"Why do you think the people in line were calling each other names?" Jane queries, knitting sprawled on her lap in the backseat.
I shift the car to park. The night cold and moist, we hesitate for a moment. "I don't know. I didn't really notice," I say. "What were they calling each other?"
"Well," she see-saws, "things like fatty and, and -- um, like I-don't-like-you." She gropes for an approximation.
I glance at the house, porch light incandescent, the evening sky obsidian. "Some people think that's ok," I pause. The words lop out like a pile of logs. "I think it's disrespectful to God," I add, "'cause He made us."
"Oh." We let this set for examination. She knits to the end of the row. I make a note in my journal.
And then, as if on cue, she winds scarf and yarn down into a ball, spears it with the knitting needles. I tug a bag from the passenger seat, socks and leggings a lump at the bottom. We trundle into the oatmeal and cinnamon breath of home, a little more knowledge added to the collection.
3709. "There's a little thing in Pastor Will's class that when you put money in, it makes it go up into Africa," Lucy tells me.
3710. "Everything in the Bible is REAL," she says.
3711. "It's hard to break colored pencils," she confesses later, "but I can break crayons."
3712. My mother sends updates from Kenya each day. I am humbled, down-on-my-knees awestruck by the power and love of Jesus to save. Thousands come to the Crusade. More than a thousand turn to Jesus.
3713. A sister-in-law joins me for laundry and coffee. We look over her beautiful photos and share art and life.
3714. A new friend comes for granola and tea. I am blessed by the sweetness of her love for the Bible, the reverence, the joy.
3715. My dad parses out what he's learning while Mom's away in Kenya and shares it with me.
3716. I worry all week over a doctor appointment that goes well.
3717. I dread visiting the dentist to have a crown re-done. Suddenly it's over, and I'm grateful for the good care.
3718. Jack scrambles to clear his breakfast dishes when I mention it need to be done.
3719. "Boogers, boogers," Myra croons at my elbow, "I like boogers."
3720. We attend a birthday party of where friends feel like family.
3721. Craig's mom drops by to say hi.
3722. My dad calls for tips on pie making.
3723. Jane and I take a date. I try to be more fun.
3724. We enjoy Sunday lunch with new friends.
3725. "So you think that this trouble would all go away if I just tried to be more fun?" I clatter down the stairs and poke my head around the corner. Craig nods. I grin. Ok.
3726. Another week skitters to motion, and I get to start by being more fun.
***We just received word that the youngest son of a dear friend in Kenya has died of Malaria. Please join us in prayer for them.