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The divine miss m is going ballistic upstairs for reasons passing understanding. We’ve fortified her with Motrin, and R is trying a bottle, but this doesn’t bode well. I leave Thursday morning for a continuing ed thing with the staff and I think tonight’s events are giving us all a bit of a sinking feeling. Everyone comments on M’s remarkable 8 teeth at 9 months, and I was really hoping that the next ones—the molars—would wait until the more typical 13-month mark to wreak their agony, but she’s been chewing on her fingers waaay back in her mouth for a couple of days now. Sweet Lord.
When she's not crying for reasons that mystify us, M's favorite game is "Bonk." I'll sit her on my lap and gently bump my forehead to hers and say "Bonk." Then she'll nod her head forward to do her own "Bonk". We got to where she'd nod forward just with the word "Bonk." Much laughter ensues.
Yesterday was a great day. Our doula practice had a picnic for all their clients over the past year, and it was fun to have some time with the woman who helped M make her way into the world. Truth be told, K didn’t do much for the big event—remember that I went from sound asleep to babe-in-arms in 2 1/2 hours. But she did help keep me sane for the intermittent prelabor I was having for almost two weeks beforehand. (Remember that joy? Go back to December 2005 if you don’t.)

They had a cheesy clown/magician which C totally loved—from a reserved distance—and she also got into the moon bounce, after a long time of being freaked by such things. M also went on a swing for the first time, so both girls had some deep-dimple fun.
I got a little nostalgic at the picnic. There were 29 candles on two birthday cakes, one for every birth the doulas attended this year. As I pushed M on the swing and watched C bounce, I was so thankful for these two little women in my life, and in each other’s lives. And I felt grateful that K, and our doula for C’s birth, helped make those experiences relatively smooth and very meaningful. I tell R from time to time that if and when ministry gets too boring that I want to become a doula and childbirth educator. He responded that I adore sleep too much to enjoy a job that gets me up in the middle of the night.
Last night we went out with Semi-Famous Blogger, her spouse, and a fellow graduate of Crusty-ol Theological that was in town preaching at SFB’s church. What a great, hilarious evening. Between that and the picnic I was almost able to forget that I work on weekends. This must be what normal people do! I thought.
World Communion was pretty nice. We do some neat things in the service that newcomers always find very refreshing, though it’s the same every year, and I think it could use some freshening up.
There’s an old bit about a pastor who always prayed before worship, “Please God, let something happen that’s not in the bulletin today.” That prayer was answered in the form of a little cricket that hopped around under the communion table during the sermon. I feared he would be smooshed as people came and went from the table. During the offertory a 5th grade girl who babysat C and M this summer crept forward, very discreetly. After a couple of misses she managed to catch the cricket in her cupped hands. She glanced back towards her family, face aglow as she mouthed, “I got him!” Her dad helped open the back door of the meeting house as she opened her hands and let him go.
At the second service we honored our custodian, a man from Ghana who became a citizen on May 22. B was presented with an American flag that was flown over the Capitol building that day. As I saw this reserved, dignified man twinkle with tears I remembered that his paperwork had been tied up for a long time with the judge.

In addition to his job at church, he also works as a tech at a local hospital. He is a genius at drawing blood. Seriously. He has said that it is a gift God has given him. Nurses will call him at home in the middle of the night asking whether he can come draw some blood and he always finds the vein, always.

One day he was called in to help with an elderly woman. She turned out to be the mother of his immigration judge. B made a little small talk with him and said, “I think I know you from somewhere." The judge hedged, feigned ignorance, but a week later B’s paperwork sailed through.

For the swearing-in ceremony he was allowed one guest, and he invited Senior Pastor to accompany him. As they walked around beforehand he said to her, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

That’s really quite cool.

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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (7) Share on Facebook		2006-10-01 10:40 PM sunday/monday dots The divine miss m is going ballistic upstairs for reasons passing understanding. We’ve fortified her with Motrin, and R is trying a bottle, but this doesn’t bode well. I leave Thursday morning for a continuing ed thing with the staff and I think tonight’s events are giving us all a bit of a sinking feeling. Everyone comments on M’s remarkable 8 teeth at 9 months, and I was really hoping that the next ones—the molars—would wait until the more typical 13-month mark to wreak their agony, but she’s been chewing on her fingers waaay back in her mouth for a couple of days now. Sweet Lord. When she's not crying for reasons that mystify us, M's favorite game is "Bonk." I'll sit her on my lap and gently bump my forehead to hers and say "Bonk." Then she'll nod her head forward to do her own "Bonk". We got to where she'd nod forward just with the word "Bonk." Much laughter ensues. Yesterday was a great day. Our doula practice had a picnic for all their clients over the past year, and it was fun to have some time with the woman who helped M make her way into the world. Truth be told, K didn’t do much for the big event—remember that I went from sound asleep to babe-in-arms in 2 1/2 hours. But she did help keep me sane for the intermittent prelabor I was having for almost two weeks beforehand. (Remember that joy? Go back to December 2005 if you don’t.) They had a cheesy clown/magician which C totally loved—from a reserved distance—and she also got into the moon bounce, after a long time of being freaked by such things. M also went on a swing for the first time, so both girls had some deep-dimple fun. I got a little nostalgic at the picnic. There were 29 candles on two birthday cakes, one for every birth the doulas attended this year. As I pushed M on the swing and watched C bounce, I was so thankful for these two little women in my life, and in each other’s lives. And I felt grateful that K, and our doula for C’s birth, helped make those experiences relatively smooth and very meaningful. I tell R from time to time that if and when ministry gets too boring that I want to become a doula and childbirth educator. He responded that I adore sleep too much to enjoy a job that gets me up in the middle of the night. Last night we went out with Semi-Famous Blogger, her spouse, and a fellow graduate of Crusty-ol Theological that was in town preaching at SFB’s church. What a great, hilarious evening. Between that and the picnic I was almost able to forget that I work on weekends. This must be what normal people do! I thought. World Communion was pretty nice. We do some neat things in the service that newcomers always find very refreshing, though it’s the same every year, and I think it could use some freshening up. There’s an old bit about a pastor who always prayed before worship, “Please God, let something happen that’s not in the bulletin today.” That prayer was answered in the form of a little cricket that hopped around under the communion table during the sermon. I feared he would be smooshed as people came and went from the table. During the offertory a 5th grade girl who babysat C and M this summer crept forward, very discreetly. After a couple of misses she managed to catch the cricket in her cupped hands. She glanced back towards her family, face aglow as she mouthed, “I got him!” Her dad helped open the back door of the meeting house as she opened her hands and let him go. At the second service we honored our custodian, a man from Ghana who became a citizen on May 22. B was presented with an American flag that was flown over the Capitol building that day. As I saw this reserved, dignified man twinkle with tears I remembered that his paperwork had been tied up for a long time with the judge. In addition to his job at church, he also works as a tech at a local hospital. He is a genius at drawing blood. Seriously. He has said that it is a gift God has given him. Nurses will call him at home in the middle of the night asking whether he can come draw some blood and he always finds the vein, always. One day he was called in to help with an elderly woman. She turned out to be the mother of his immigration judge. B made a little small talk with him and said, “I think I know you from somewhere." The judge hedged, feigned ignorance, but a week later B’s paperwork sailed through. For the swearing-in ceremony he was allowed one guest, and he invited Senior Pastor to accompany him. As they walked around beforehand he said to her, “This is the happiest day of my life.” That’s really quite cool. Read/Post Comments (7) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top