Flight

It has taken most of our twenty year marriage to release the icy grip of control I have had on my life and let Serge take care of me occasionally.  At an altitude of 7500 feet somewhere between Roanoke and Charlotte, the release comes and it occurs to me - for the first time in the five days - that I might have to take care of him.
If you had asked me before, I would have matter-of-factly recited to you the statistical probability that I would outlive him by 7 years and therefore, of course, at some point be his care giver.  But from a practical standpoint I never considered it.
This is the man that while (more than once) catching the throw up of our children, did not catch the viruses.  He evades most illnesses, has never had the flu, nor surgery, nor anything else on those pesky forms.  In answer to all of the hospital questions about medical history, the answers were no and no and no.
My vision of our old age was of me sitting in a wheel chair in the sun keeping him company while he constructed the handicap ramp to our front door.

One of the most grace-filled and stunning things to come out of the past two weeks is the beautiful responses of people who love us and care for us.  It has just been humbling.  Interestingly, many others felt the same things I did - "Serge? sick? no way".

However our story ends, undoubtably not as I expect, I am so, so thankful for the friends and family who love us, and the priviledge of being married to my mostly invincible husband!

Valentines

The other night Maggie made an oatmeal cake.  It was great.  When our guests left, 3/4 of the cake was gone too. 
Sometimes I think Maggie is a really gifted cook.  She is.
The fresh ground whole wheat, the eggs from our back yard chickens, the real butter, of course.....
But the biggest difference between Maggie's oatmeal cake and the one in the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook is that she actually made it.
One cake is in a picture and the other is, or was, on our table.

With one traditional exception, I am not fond of Valentine's day.
The world celebrates a day about "love" - but only the kind that fits on a Hallmark card - not the kind that sits at your kitchen table. 
Not the kind that mixes sugar and salt. 
Or that whips through hard butter and hard hearts. 
Or that stays in the fiery furnace of life to produce something edible and good.

Valentine's cards and flowers can be sweet, but Serge making me coffee every morning that he doesn't even drink, or going to work every day to provide for our family, or going to China to pick up a baby girl, that's the kind of love you can put on your table. 
The difference between the love in the card and the love in your prewarmed car in the drive way is like the difference between Maggie's cake and the BHG picture.  I'll take the real cake, even if a messy kitchen comes with it.

Serge

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord..."  Jeremiah 17:7

Serge has never been one to live life waiting for the other shoe to drop.  When we were first married I criticized that in my heart.  Only the shallow or simple would not worry I reasoned.
Now that we have a faith that calls for trust in a good God, I see it a bit differently.
"What are we going to do now?" I ask lying together in a hospital bed at 3 a.m.
"Get up and go to work in the morning." he answers with a smile.  "Only, now you'll have to drive me!"

Adoption

There will be a time to debate the pros and cons of adoption, especially international adoption.  I say that only to make clear that I know that it is not without controversy, legitmate controversy.  Just like a short-term missions trip - there are those called to go, those called to support them, and those who don't agree with the idea at all. 
We happened to have been called to adopt. 
From China. 
Or so we think, although it has been a most long time coming.  Most of my contemporaries are long done with new children, but after being suprised with Julia two years ago, all of my excuses for why we should not continue with this plan (conceived 7 years past ...) went out the window.  So here we are, with a referral, meaning we have been assigned a particular child and have a picture and a name and all of that, waiting for what is called a TA (travel approval), a document from China that essentially invites us to come to their country and pick her up. 
Elanor is 9 months younger than Julia.  We hope to go get her in February.  No doubt it will be a most difficult adjustment for ALL of us...

Jack

Friday morning at 7:30 Serge calls me to say that he has found Jack's body.  On the old, buried railroad bed below our house.  We meet with sheet and sled to move him.  He is at least a couple of days dead, but eight days missing, so despite the closure at one level, there are a hundred questions at another.

He was all dog - and never seemed to forget it.  He would do anything for food, made sure that he did not stay clean for more than 48 hours, and dragged home every interesting thing he could get his jaw around. 

I pull the sled with 110 pounds of dog in it a half mile across a wet soggy hay field while Serge makes the very steep climb back home to get the truck and meet me at the road.  It is a heavy load, but I still believe I got the better job of the two. 

We have lived a lot here, but have also buried a lot here.  Jack has been part of  it all and it seems almost wrong to look out the windows the next morning to the back yard.  He should be there barking at the deer and tormenting the squirrels.

The Delight of Praise

Maggie and James returned last night.  Their first flights ever, saving infancy.  They had visited arguably some of the most influential people ever in their lives. 
The Hillerys. 
These are the people we learned to butcher chickens with, castrated a large contingency of farm animals with, shared a LOT of food with, learned to bake bread with, shoveled a lot of manure with (literally and figuratively) and who, more than anything else, learned the fullest meaning of Grace with. 
That they were able to go and visit them in their new home was true delight to me even if I wasn't along for the trip.  Meeting them at the airport last night and hearing all of their wonderful stories was just a taste of heaven to me.  That we would be so privileged to have friends like these ... thank you Lord!  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

The sacrifice of Praise

"To bring the sacrifice of thanksgiving is to sacrifice our understanding of what's beneficial and thank God for everything  -  because He is benevolent.  A sacrifice of thanks lays down our perspective and raises hands in praise anyways - always."  A. Voskamp

Monday is Chinese New Year.  I can honestly say that this is the first year that I ever paid attention to the date, which changes each year.  We had hoped to receive our travel approval before the Chinese government shuts down for the holiday.  We did not.   That we didn't means that it will be yet longer before we get to go and pick up Ellie.

I understand fully that God "works all things together for the good of those who love Him".  I know it may very well be in our best interests in a 1000 ways for us not to travel early in February as I had hoped (most recently - there were hopes for October, November, December and January as well).  Still it is disappointing and the praise and thanksgiving I give just now is a bit of a sacrifice.  (a small one albeit)