Today we took the light rail from the medical center to the museum district then visited the Tot-Spot at the Children’s Museum. Lots of under 3 year olds running all over!  We sat and talked with some other parents about all sorts of things.  Everyone thought you were the cutest. You were hungry right on time then went into quiet alert mode, looking and listening to everything.  That must have been quite stimulating because you have slept hard all the way home.

Fed – Check
Changed – Check
Sleeping – Check
Dishes – Next

Today we finally arrived in Houston after one insane week of packing and three long days on the road. It even got to the point on day two that you didn’t want to be in your car seat any more and you usually love car rides. In the next few days, our tiny apartment should be transformed from a mish-mash pile of boxes to something that resembles the home you have known. All you will know if that there will be a lot of activity and time in Grandpa Tom’s arms.

Tonight was your first experience of a strong Midwest thunderstorm. About 8:30 pm, the lights flashed out then back on at home as Mom and Dad were moving boxes and Holly, who also babysat you last night, was holding you. A strong storm blew in very soon thereafter and made Mom nervous enough that we all went to hang out in the basement (which is now almost completely packed, by the way). We hung out there until about 10 when the severe weather warning expired and you were done with your bottle. Now back upstairs where Mom is very behind on sleep.

Note to self: strong storms are one of the few surefire ways to get Dad to turn off his computers.

Today, an adopted grandma from church, Linda, came over to hold, feed, play with and watch you all morning and afternoon so that Mom could pack some boxes in the kitchen. Your fingernails were really long and sharp, and Mom was laying in wait for a good quiet moment to cut them. In the meantime, Mom put these awesome little sock gloves on your hands that we got from the hospital to keep you from scratching things. They look like miniature white, fuzzy boxing gloves. When you wave your arms around while waking up, it looks like you are training for the ultra-ultra-ultra featherweight title.

Today we went to the funeral of a young girl who recently succumbed to her fight with cancer. I want you to know it’s ok to be sad, it’s ok to be angry; these emotions are in us for a reason. We never got to know Julia, her likes and dislikes, as well as her parents and brother did, but it is ok for us to mourn her loss and cry along side them. We are sad for all the connections with others that could have been and now will not. We are angry because her death does not feel fair.

In contrast, we can also feel reassured that, when our lives come to a halt, no matter how long we have been on this earth, no matter how many or few connections we have made,  others will stand along side our families to mourn with them. This is called community.

Julia was part of our community, specifically our church community. In this age of high-tech gizmo’s, facebook, and texting, community: the physical, emotional, and spiritual connection between people, should not be overlooked.

To connect with a person is to invest yourself in them. Invest both wisely, and with great abandon, dig deep, but love broadly.

Grandma Carol is headed home today.  It was truly great that she was here.  She helped hold things together while you were in the hospital. She was here at just the right time.  The whole hospital thing made her visit go awful fast. Next time we will see her you will have doubled in size! You’ll be a big boy!  We’ll have to make sure to take lots of pictures, otherwise we (mom and dad) will be in trouble.

Hold still here comes the Flash!