Graced.

Two tiny smiley face stamps.  One planted deliberately in the center of my right palm and one in my left.  Given to me at the end of an hour spent with a new kindergarten age friend.  This little person had been entrusted to my care for the purpose of understanding why the sudden changes in behavior.  The parts of the story that were being entrusted to me through words and pictures were linked together by grief.

I really try not to take for granted the privilege that it is to bear witness to another's grief. Particularly grief that is expressed from the littlest among us.  The kind of grief that brings a lump to my throat as I attend to the story.  The kind of grief that makes me want to come home to my little boy and wake him from a nap just to hold him for a while.  A nap into which his daddy has just spent an hour settling him.

And I struggle to be reminded that grief is sacred.  I cannot take on or take away another's grief.  I can enter into the process where I am invited, but I cannot and should not take it as my own.

So, at the end of our time together, these two smiley faces were given to me to carry home.  Such good and not necessarily deserved gifts to me.

Like little marks of grace.

Dinner at Denny's

One evening this past week, we found ourselves cruising up the road to a town about twenty minutes away underneath a brilliantly clear starry sky.  Our destination?  Denny's.  My husband, my son and I were taking a little road trip to find some supper and a little solace.

We opted for the two lane highway rather than the freeway.  Longer drive time.  Less traffic.  More peaceful.  More of a chance for Buster to settle down a bit and be soothed by the movement of the car.  It had been a rough afternoon.  Sometimes, when you're almost five months old, you have rough afternoons.  It happens.

We were seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant.  Perfect.  My husband and I both settled on the Grand Slam.  Somehow, the option to put together a breakfast-for-dinner combination of our choosing was just what our slightly frazzled nerves needed.  I chose fruit as one of my combo options.  I think that fruit always tastes better when someone else has washed and cut it for me.  Even at Denny's.

We ate, both of us taking turns distracting and entertaining Buster.  Then we packed up, got back in the car and drove home.  And on the drive home, with our little guy finally settled and sleeping in the backseat, it struck me.  We are becoming a family. I know that we are technically already a family:  a mom, a dad, and a baby.  But, at the same time, we are becoming a family.  We are developing a shared history of simple moments and struggles; car rides and meals at Denny's.

The adventurous part of my spirit delights in the process and prospect of becoming and I couldn't ask for better travel companions.

Big Box Stores and Belly Laughs

Lest you judge, I'm just going to be straightforward and blunt about this.  I shop at Wal-Mart.  There, I said it. 

I have my own qualms about all the issues related to big box stores and all the ways in which these stores are not the prettiest reflection of our culture.  I also don't feel great about how this particular store has been cited for less than supportive employment practices.  But, the fact is, I still shop there, or perhaps the better description of what I do at Wal-Mart is wander.  

I've never really been a big "shopper" in general, but when I used to live in an area where there were malls, I would, on occasion, wander around a mall.  I now live in an area where there are no malls, but there is a Wal-Mart about twenty minutes up the road.  And there are days, particularly this winter as of late, when it simply isn't reasonable to go outside for a walk with Buster.  We get to about 3pm and he's already made the rounds of a couple naps, lots of indoor playtime (including baby flashcards, by the way, for those of you who still might be judging me) and we are in desperate need of a change of venue.  So, I load up my baby boy and we head to Wal-Mart.

Our little trip serves a variety of purposes.  One is that Buster really doesn't nap well the later in the day it gets, although he is clearly tired.  So a little car ride is a sure-fire way to get him to snooze a bit.  Another purpose is that, at this age, seated in his carseat while riding in a shopping cart and looking around at all sorts of things like lights, boxes, colors, people, etc. truly seems entertaining to Buster.  He's usually mesmerized by the experience. 

A final purpose is related to a quest that I'm on.  It's the quest for the belly laugh.  I've heard it a couple times, and I have to say that I feel like an addict of sorts.  That first belly laugh was so rewarding that I find myself just wanting more.  I'm a baby belly laugh junkie, and Wal-Mart has the makings for my fix:  Hoops and Yoyo greeting cards.  Buster finds these guys VERY funny.

So, after we've made a couple wandering laps around the various departments, we settle on Greeting Cards.  And I show him card after audio card of Hoops and Yoyo.  I laugh in an exaggerated way hoping to encourage the elusive but oh-so-worth-it belly laugh from my tiny Wal-Mart companion.  And, my bet is that I sound like a raving lunatic.  In fact, there may even be secret footage of me on someone's cell phone that they are intending to send into that website called People of Wal-Mart or Wal-Mart People or something like that.  But, quite frankly, I don't care, its worth it to me.


The temperature when we got up this morning was -12F.   I have a feeling its just that kind of day.  Hoops and Yoyo, here we come.