A letter

Archive for the ‘Year 2’ Category

Keeping up with the Jones’…

In Year 2 on February 26, 2013 at 12:05 am

It’s 12:48 am and for the second night in a row I am restless.  Exhausted and restless. My mind is spinning with obviously one too many things.  “What?” You might ask.  I’m not too sure. Everything and nothing all at the same time.  Or maybe it’s just that my soul hasn’t notified my mind of what is causing such a fluster beneath.  I’ve been thinking.  A lot lately, about a lot of things.  What causes stress? Well, the obvious things, such as what we shall eat, how we will pay our bills, if we will make it on time and a myriad of other similar concerns.  But in relation to those things, they are really quite simple.  We shall either eat or not eat, have money with which to pay, or not, and make it on time, or be late.  So other than the majors, what are the minors that cause such unrest.  I was talking with Elle tonight and we were discussing Facebook and all its beauties, which we discovered are few.  We also discovered, or I should say remembered that it has many uglies.  We were dying laughing over the fact that for Sol’s 1st birthday, I, in an array of frenzy, made cupcakes using my neighbors leftover Tinkerbell liners, since I didn’t have the car that day to fetch a more manly outshell.  Poor Sol.  He however didn’t seem to mind, and enjoyed the contents all the same.  This is, as you know a classic Bep.  I don’t do well at planning ahead, or making birthday’s that special.  Al always did that growing up and I was always scrambling.  Not much has changed.  Does it bother me?  Quite honestly, no.  Unless, I start to dwell on the grandios themed birthday’s and galas all my other parent friends have hosted for their child’s half birthday, and 1st-week-wearing-undies-celebrations.  Both of these are wonderful, and especially wonderful for the person who enjoys doing those types of things.  I do not enjoy doing those types of things.   It frazzles me. And, more than that frazzles me to the core attempting to be someone I am not.  I do love a party, but prefer a more spontaneous party. Ha! Keeping up with the Jones’ is so much work!  Who thought up this idea anyhow?  If  I am not wholly secure in who I am, I will spend my life’s entirety trying to make a Hulk Smash cake (so to speak) just to prove I can.  A tiring feat to strive for goals not your own: To please people who exist only in another’s life.  If I am wonderfully made, then God must have known I am a wretched present buyer and cake baker.  But he found that wonderful. Relieving.  The uglies of Facebook and the likes, are really only ugly because we let them be.  Someone posting a picture of a pie should make my heart smile, not make me depressed and despairing.  Someone’s rejoicing over running 10 miles should make me eat a handful of M&M’s and cheer them on.  (well, “make me eat M&M’s” is a strong statement, but a great excuse none the less) It could also nudge me to head to the gym and find inspiration for dropping that last 10lbs I’ve been wanting to shed for a while. We realized the plethora of things this “keeping up” suggests.  Back in the day when the actual Jones’ really existed, it was a lot simpler I think.  They were the few families that lived next door, literally.  When Mrs. Jones swept her porch, you thought about sweeping yours. If you smelled her pie baking, you went ahead and made two, one to bring to the social on Sunday.  We now all have hundreds of Jones’ that live next door.  The amount of delectable dinners and pies we must keep up with are innumerable.  There are 20 new workouts we have to try to get in shape, 1400 outfits we don’t have, 28 dates our husbands didn’t take us on, 60 coupons I didn’t clip and at least a dozen parties we weren’t invited to.  When do I stop and think, not others thoughts but my own, about my own life, and really evaluate in honesty my current state and happiness?  My own husband and kids are quite happy with their life.  I like most of my wardrobe.  I enjoy the recipes I make and love looking leisurely for new ones. (As opposed to conquering Julia Childs in one week’s time) I love thrift store shopping and hunting for things.  I just do.  Leon can count to six effectively, and then jumps to eleven consistently.  He’s just turned 4 and until I saw that another’s child can count backwards from 100 and is only 3.5, was proud of him.  Really, if we were all the Jones’, what fun would that be? What variety would the world hold? What stresses, vice grips, choke hold my joy and contentment?  Why is it so hard to just live my life, and live the one I have well, while being me.  It doesn’t mean I can’t learn, or achieve.  It doesn’t mean I can’t desire new things, or want to make a special cake for my boy.  But if it’s all to prove to someone who isn’t keeping track and doesn’t really care, and it’s draining the live right out of my veins, then what value does it have?

As a parent now it’s funny to think of in light of how God might see us.  If Leon and Sol were identical, it would be strange.  I rather like that they are quite different and each hilarious in their own way.  Leon is the slowest eater on earth when it comes to anything other than sweets and Sol is the exact opposite. Sol hoovers lunch or dinner and slowly savers each M&M. Leon is a talker and Sol is a hugger.  If they were both huggers I would be dying to know what they were thinking.  If they were both talkers I would be aching for hugs.  Why the rat race to be each other then?  Why the constant striving to arrive at someone else’s address when home is perfectly built for me? Maybe its cause we fail to realize the delight of our Father in who we are.  Maybe it’s the lust of our flesh always wanting what we don’t have.  Maybe it’s lack of thankfulness for what is in front of me.

Bottom line: I am on a journey to live MY life. To be the me God created me to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I have much transforming and conforming to do, but it isn’t with the Jones’.




More than a 1000….

In Uncategorized, Year 2 on January 16, 2013 at 9:43 pm

As I begin writing on this blank page, I briefly think of all the things I must tell you that filled our lives since I last wrote.  Instead my heart presses me to write what is going on in the here and now.  This here and now moment.  Bonte’, Al and I started reading 1000 Gifts on January 1st.  I know, it sounds so poetic to begin the new year with such a task.      But, poetic or not, the deep, hidden places of my heart have been exposed and I have spent several nights with a tear streaked face, reading until the wee hours of the morning.  I’m already sad that this book might end, but only because I don’t want its content to leave me. I want it to be part of me.  I‘ve been terrible at seizing the moment this last year.  Thus the reason for the tears flowing freely.  She states many times in many ways, that life is not an emergency.  It has been for me.  I have been a gold medalist in finishing the meaningless tasks of dishes or laundry.  I’ve mastered putting the last out-of-sort item in place at the end of the day so the house is in its perfect state.  I have also missed a hug or two from my dear sweet Sol, and not told Leon a story he is dying to hear telling them, “mommy is working right now”.  But what is all this working for if not for them?  Do they care if the house is perfect?  Do they care if the dishes are clean?  She states so perfectly and yet with such precision that it cuts me to the core. “Haste makes life waste”.  I don’t want to live my life in waste anymore.  I don’t want to wish away the moments that are the very reason I am living for. Then her words pierce me even more when I read the following: “To read His message in moments, I’ll need to read His passion on the page; wear the lens of the Word to read His writing in the world.  Only the Word is the answer to rightly reading the world, because the Word has nail -scarred hands that cup our face close, wipe away the tears running down, has eyes to look deep into our brimming ache, and whisper, “I know. I know.”  The passion on the page is a Person, and the lens I wear of the Word is not abstract idea but the eyes of the God-Man who came and knows pain.  How does the Word read the world?” In this journey I find myself in, I am taking a moment to pause, many times, and be thankful for what I have.  I am praying not to miss moments right in front of me seemingly blocked by messes and stresses that don’t matter at all.  I am going to fully live this year of 2013.  I am going to fully live.

Love you dearly,



A Hurricane of Events…

In Year 2 on October 28, 2012 at 1:18 pm

I am sitting here braving the “hurricane” (storm) Sandy.  By braving, I mean I am sitting in much too warm a house, in a tanktop and jeans, watching the trees blow and the rain come down while drinking an iced, (sadly) eggnog Via latte and writing you.  If there wasn’t all this hype about this “Frankenstorm” broadcasted, we’d be outside with the kids jumping in puddles.  I love a good storm, and did just walk to the mail box.  I survived unscathed.  I did prepare for it though.  We have 4 candles to be exact, 250 matches, 2 cases of water, 2 jars of peanut butter, 8 cans of pears, one box of granola bars and two charged batteries for our industrial flashlight.  Bring it Sandy, bring it!!!

I wish it were as easy to brave life’s storms.  The bummer about life’s storms is, they are not broadcasted, you have no way to prepare and often they last longer than you at first expected.  That is sort of how these last 10 weeks have been for me.  As I mentioned in my last letter, I have been battling headaches since August 19th, to be exact.  I feel like the last weeks have been an attempt at baking, without a recipe.  It’s not as if  this is the first time I have battled headaches.  We had a pretty great recipe figured out before and within a few weeks, I was back to my good ol’ self.  Unfortunately this time, being in a new city, without doctors, was as if life snatched my recipe for recovery and tore it to pieces.  I found a doctor, whom I love and am thankful for.  She took a lot of time with me to fully understand my history and sent me on my way to physical therapy.  I couldn’t hav e been more ready to see a physical therapist after 5 weeks of headaches than I was, and couldn’t have been more frustrated leaving.  It was a strange office and their PT practices were different than any I had been to before.  There were no private rooms, and soon found out, no massage, at all!  After two visits I decided I would switch to a different practice to look for proper care.  Frustratingly, that was THE only PT office covered by our insurance.  I was so deflated.  I was exhausted from being in constant pain for 5 weeks and just wanted to feel normal.  I had already seen chiropractors, been prescribed 2 meds that didn’t work and been doing neck release exercises daily.  After week 7, my doctor decided to send me to a neurologist.  I had prayed God would give me a thorough doctor, and was thankful for her tenacity in treating me and her search for answers for me.  I was also terrified to be going to a neurologist.  I had normally been better by now, and I had not had any relief as of yet.  We kept wondering if PT would have been better, if I would have been well already.  The day I went to the Neurologist, I found an envelope on my door mat.  Inside there was a letter full of encouragement, scripture and two hundred dollars cash.  I was overwhelmed.  Insurance had been covering PT, but not massage, thus the frustration that they wouldn’t do massage as a part of treatment.  God is so faithful.  I immediately started searching for a massage therapist.  After 3 massages in about 8 days time, I had 6 days without a headache.  I felt like a million bucks.  Since it has been up and down, and up and down, but progressively getting better.  PRAISE GOD who answers us and is faithful.

A few months back, we all went to the dentist.  I found out, I have 4 cavities in my wisdom teeth, which had already all grown in.  I have only had one cavity in my entire life and couldn’t believe that this were the case.  My dentist suggested having them out.  David (also cavity ridden) and I were both planning on having ours out in December during Christmas break so we could take turns caring for our boys.  Our plans changed when in two weeks time, several friends who had been praying for me mentioned that they had heard having wisdom teeth out could help with headache battles.  Strange!  After some research, it proved that it could be true.  Fall break was just around the corner, and we figured if I could get in now instead of then, and there was a potential of it helping, then why not.  So, I had a consult last Monday, and had my teeth out on Thursday.  This was something I have vowed never to do, and here I was, getting my teeth out.  I’m so glad I didn’t have much more time between the consult and the surgery to dream of teeth extractions.  I survived and 10 days later I am finally feeling almost normal.  Only time will tell if it will help, I’m praying it does.  I do know, that the last 2 days I have felt the best I have felt in 10 weeks.  I know for sure this is true when both bathrooms are clean, laundry is caught up, our bedroom  and closet are organized and curtains are hung.  I cannot properly explain what this feels like.  It’s a kind of happy I haven’t felt in a while.

Through it all,  God is teaching me about having grace for myself.  You know, it isn’t my easiest feat in life to do so.  I’m learning not to evaluate life when in chronic pain.  I’m learning to let the house be messy and have a peaceful heart at the same time.  I’m learning to lean on others. I am so thankful for all my girls who have watched my kids on many occasions, prayed for me, encouraged me and been there for me through this all.  A page is turning and I am thanking God for his goodness to me. Learning to have grace for myself was sort of forced this last week when I had my teeth out and I watched the entirety of both seasons of Downton Abbey.  My heart will never be the same and I will be waiting on pins and needles for the next season to start.  Grace is wonderful!

The boys are about as cute as can be.  Sol is trying to communicate with everything in his being.  We finally can understand some things he is saying.  When we repeat what he says, asking if it is right and it is, he responds with a “yeee—-aaaaahhhh”, full of the biggest smile and loads of enthusiastic emotion.  I just want to squish him all day long.  Leon is growing like a week and looking like a real boy instead of  a chubby toddler.  He sneaks into bed with us almost every night.  He’s too adorable to resist and I think he misses his dad.  Anytime it’s remotely cold, at least to him, he thinks Christmas must be coming (as in tomorrow or the next day).  Two things, one, he has no idea what cold is, and two, Christmas is going to feel like years of waiting to his almost 4 year old mind.

I have fallen into selling shoes and other items on Ebay.  I have various sources which include my love of thrifting.  It’s been a supper fun hobby and is a wonderful use of time while David finishes school.  If you ever want to browse, our ebay seller name is Engelhardtswin. You can blame David for that one, but I do agree with the name.  We do win!

David is powering through this semester with incredible strength and stamina.  He’s been amazing through the last few months and I know with me being pain ridden it wasn’t exactly an easy time.  He has also been sick 3 times, and I mean SICK.  He is currently weathering 2 storms; one, a huge paper that is due Monday, and this crazy Sandy.  It’s been a crazy few months on all fronts.  We have weathered it though, and are ready for this next season.

I cannot wait for sweater, scarf, and boot weather.  I pray it comes soon. I do have Christmas candles out and hope that helps with my holiday mood.  I miss you friend.  Sorry it’s been so long since I have written.  I promise it won’t be this way forever.  Love you so much.


Mountains and valleys…

In Year 2 on September 13, 2012 at 8:19 pm

Well friend, if I don’t sit down now to write you, I may never catch you up. Even if I do sit down now, which I am, you may not feel caught up completely, but at least you will feel clued in a bit.

Life this summer was like a pressure cooker. And we were the items being cooked. David’s summer schooling and simultaneous internship, followed by another internship were not exactly the break and breather we had in mind.  Thus far, I am not sure the words break, breather and law school can be in the same sentence without an argument.  I did survive my first whole summer in Virginia Beach and it was survival.  When I walked out at 7:40 to bring David to school the other day and 60 degree air kissed my face, I felt as if a piece of heaven dropped down to earth just for me.  As you know, heat and humidity are not friends of Finish people, and particularly not fond of my Finish skin.

The past few months physically have been difficult to say the least.  My hands flared up the worst they had ever been since being married.  I kept recalling Pastor Bob’s sermon on leaning.  The words,  “His rod and His staff, they comfort me” rolled through my head daily.  It was a time when all I could do was lean on Him, and family and friends.  Through a the power of God and a crazy series of events, my blistered, and cracked hands improved 50% in two weeks time while not on any medication.  This was a first time EVER this has happened in my life.   Our God is truly miraculous.  My healing process started during my 6 weeks wait to get into a dermatologist.  God’s timing is perfect.  The last two weeks before my appointment I discovered three things that can help heal my condition.  In all my twelve years of dealing with this same skin issue, I had never heard about any of them.  I am still amazed by this.  I also had been praying for a dermatologist who would be aggressive in treatment.  God answered my prayer.  This last month, I have watched my hands be restored.  I find myself constantly rubbing my hands together feeling their smooth skin.  For the first time in 8 years, I have almost normal hands!  You have no idea what a relief that is.  I cannot fully express it!

We had a wonderful two weeks together as a family doing hardly anything at all before fall semester started.   It was needed in ways we were not even aware of.  I’m pretty sure we napped every day but one, those two weeks.  All our feelings of angst and weariness slowly melted away and we felt peace settle in for the first time in a long while.  I felt God gave us the refreshing we had been craving when we moved last spring.  It was the first chance we really had to fully let down since Sol got sick last April.  I had grace to let the house go wild.  And by wild, I mean WILD.  You may not have recognized our abode those few weeks.  I didn’t recognize it.  I somehow let myself run wild too and didn’t really care.  When I went to clean the bathroom after school started, I realized fully just how carefree I really was those few weeks.  Unfortunately, the house didn’t have any pity on me, and remained in its state,  un-bothered  until I got motivated again.  I’m still catching up and it’s 3 weeks later.

Before I say what I am going to say next, I need to say the enemy is one large, giant poop!  The day before David started school, I woke up with a severe headache and I have had a headache almost daily since then.  It has been discouraging to say the least, and debilitating at times.  I tell you what, I am going to have some hefty leg muscles climbing all these mountains, and keep thinking of all the scriptures that talk about standing firm etc.  I found myself in the same situation, not having seen a doctor since moving here, a new patient.  Being a new patient, it takes weeks to get in to see a doctor.  Thankfully in my waiting period, my friend Kayla graciously worked on my neck multiple times trying to get my muscles to give up.  She was a life saver, and a huge help in halting the snowball effect of a tension headache cycle.  I finally was able to see the doctor and began physical therapy this week.  I feel blessed that our insurance covers PT, and am attempting to look on the bright side.  The bright side is, we live in a country with resources such as physical therapy.  I have a car with wich to drive to PT.  I have kind and loving friends who are watching my children several times a week for me while I go to PT.  I have muscle relaxers, newly prescribed headache medicine, and a brand new neck pillow my parents just sent me in the mail.  God is faithful. He is strong.  His resurrection power, that raised my Jesus from the grave, lives inside of me.  I am being healed, and my faith is strong. Though some days I feel weak, I know who I am leaning on.  His history is unmatched.  He’s never been late before.  He is just on time.  His stripes were enough for my healing.  And, until it comes I will wait.

In my waiting, I have an amazing husband, who is rocking his 2nd year of law school and the most adorable boys ever.  They would absolutely crack you up.  Sol walks around saying “Hulk smeeaaaash”, in the most nasal, nose pinching way, while pounding the floor.  Leon is constantly wondering about who he or other various people will marry. His first choice is always, me, and second Aunt Bonte.  Once those are rulled out, a girl teacher is the next in line.  I love how his brain works.  The other day I told him I loved him to pieces.  He responded by saying, “I love you to weapons”.  For him, especially now, I think that might be the biggest love he can offer, as weapons are of utmost importance to him.  It’s a good reminder of how I want to love Jesus.

There…you feel caught up? I don’t.  I feel there are a thousand more things I need to tell you, but my eyes are slowly shutting.  I’ll try to write more soon. I miss you.  I wish you were here to wake up super early with me tomorrow.  Then we could sip on a cup of coffee before groaning through my pilates class together.  Maybe one day. To fitness and beyond…

Love you, Bep

I have a husband…

In Year 2 on August 16, 2012 at 7:38 pm

I sort of feel bad that I haven’t written in so long, but not that bad.  First off, I know you understand.  Second, priorities must be in order.   I got my husband back the last few months; and since I don’t really see him much of the year, he has been top priority, happily.  I’m about to send him off to the land of Law again on Monday.  I can write you a novel starting then.  I have so much to tell you about.  It really  may be a novel once I sit down to actually write you.  I miss you and can’t wait to catch up.


A ten year tribute…

In Year 2 on July 11, 2012 at 10:01 pm

June, 28th, 2012
Ten years ago today, in NY City a tall, dark, and handsome man walked into my life, and since that day, he’s never left.  David Michael Engelhardt’s his name and I’m still madly in love with him.  Actually, quite a bit more. I’m sitting here now, in Margaretville, NY at dad and mom’s writing you while the kids and Cousin Alexis watch Narnia.  Its almost unfathomable to me that ten years have gone by since I first experienced Margaretville and first laid eyes on the man who would change my life forever.  It was June 2002, exactly ten years ago, that I was sitting in a hotel lobby in downtown Manhattan, doing who knows what?  My buddy, (A Jr. High girl who was my pal throughout our NY City trip for “The Call”) was not feeling well, and instead of working in the projects that day, I was stuck at the hotel, while she slept in our room.  I’m not sure I could have been more bummed about not going.  Hind sight, I’m not sure I could be happier about it.  Who knew that staying back, was the very thing that would shape my life forever.  All I remember was turning my head and seeing the most gorgeous man I had ever seen walk through the revolving doors of the hotel.  Instantly a voice inside my head said, “that’s the guy your going to marry”.  I didn’t fight it, or try to disagree, I was sold.  Of course I wanted to marry him.  David was wearing jeans,  an army green cut off shirt, and had a duffel bag slung across his body.  His arms were chiseled and he was a bronzed as I have ever seen him.  He had been pool-side at his parents for 6 weeks prior to the day we met, and  I was smitten.  Three days later us chaperones, were heading on the train, upstate to hang with David and his family, and do a youth service at David’s parents church.  I was meeting the family already, but no one could know.  I had to act like nothing was going on.  As you know, that was not the easiest task I have ever been assigned.  Being the one who wears her emotions on her sleeve, acting non-chalaunt was like trying to fit a camel through the eye of a needle.  I did my best.  Everything was perfect. Three years later, just shy of a few weeks, we said our “I do’s” and spent the best two-plus-weeks of our lives honeymooning in Maui.  I love this man, I do.  Our life has been a tale full of adventure, laced with joy and tears.  We have shook hands with contentment, and restlessness.  We’ve said many hellos, and plenty of good byes.  We’ve lost a pound and gained back ten.  We may have tripped a time or two, but we always get back up.  We’ve learned to love more, and live better.  Jesus gave us two gifts too, a talker, Leon, and a hugger, Solomon.  We are richly blessed!  I hate to say it, but despite getting older, (which I have feared) these ten years, have proven to me that truly the best is always around the corner and I have nothing to fear.

Your friend,


Father Dad…

In Year 2 on June 10, 2012 at 9:01 pm

My very own father is turning 60.  I’m flooded with memories, emotions and stunned by the reality that I could have a dad who is 60.  I remember when I was a kid, that I thought 40 was old.  Oh, how things have changed.  I guess now I would say, you’re not really old until you reach one-hundred.  Even then, I think oldness has to do with the young-at-heart-ness factor.  I now get why parents say they feel like they are still 20.  I sort of still feel like I am the ripe old age of about 7.  I hope my young-at-heart-ness always stays young.

Anyhow, back to dad.  I’m not sure I have the ability to say what I want to about dad.  Father-Dad, it’s what I called him when I was little.  He called me daughter-Bep.  Oh how this man has shaped my life.  If I let my mind go there, I am reminded of being just a chubby munchkin, putting my two paws on his face and telling him he had lots of slivers (whiskers).  I remember dad playing the airplane game with us, him lying on his back feet in the air, us tummy on his feet flying through the air while holding his hands.  That was the best.  It never got old.  I wish there were a large enough human for me to do it today, though the awe of it may be locked away in my inner-child’s-mind. I remember dad yelling through the empty sanctuary after church (since he was almost always the last one left, other than the usher) “Annie-Bep”, to which both me and Al always responded, “we’re right here dad”.  It was our dual name, and we both responded always, since we were almost always together.  I remember dad telling me I was the best “nine”, or whichever age I happened to be at the time, in the whole world.  I believed it, and though now, I know that that was dad’s way of making sure he could have lots of bests (all his kids), I believed it and knew he meant it through and through.  I remember lots of fun family vacations, vacations for which dad would spend days digging through the garage and closets finding all the fun water toys, rain gear, or whatever that type of vacation called for.  Though, we may have had 4 boxes of books, which dad may have only read several of during the vacation, I loved knowing that if I wanted to read a good book, dad for sure had one or  fifty along.  Dad just never wanted the risk being without what you might want or need.  I got my packing skills from him.   I will have to thank him for that. Young childhood memories, branded in my mind forever, days back at our old house when dad would lay on our floor in the dark at night and “read” (say) scriptures to us.  Looking back I realize that in order for him to “read” scripture to us in the dark required him having them memorized which is far more amazing than I once knew.  I can still hear the sound of his deep voice reciting various Psalms to us as we fell asleep.  Dad loved mom well, and showed us what a husband aught to be.  Dad has shaped how I love people.  No one was ever a burden, or an inconvenience, or too unlovely to love.  Dad is a lover of people and has always been.  I hope to love like dad has loved his whole life.  What a beautiful picture of Jesus.  I remember, countless young men, from the neighborhood eating meals with us, or dad playing hoops with them out on the street.  I remember dad inviting a single mom and her boy home for Christmas Eve one year.  I remember dad crying over kids who didn’t have a dad, he still does to this day.   Dad has been an example of forgiveness and humility.  Dad has displayed courage, and obedience.  He has unwavering dedication and does not tire or loose heart.  He has shown me how to be a lover of God, and a lover of people.  He believes in me, encourages me, and still tells me I am beautiful.  How did I get so lucky, I ask myself?  How did I get so lucky? For my dad, 60 displays what youthful zeal and wisdom look like after hanging out together for a really long time.  It’s a beautiful picture, and I’m glad it is mine to look at.  I guess, finally, you could say I got my sentimentality from him and am thankful I did.  I feel sad for the folks who don’t miss, or reminisce, or feel the twinge of happy-sadness from time to time when recalling the past.  I think I got a rather large dose of this quality and though it hurts at times to bear such a sentimental soul, I feel richly blessed to have it.  I should thank him for that too.  I love him dearly, and admire him immensely.  He is my hero, that he is.

Love you, Bep

The world of Skype and itchy butts….

In Year 2 on May 11, 2012 at 7:41 am

We did it.  We survived finals and our 1st year of law school.  I am thrilled.  We had a wonderful 10 days off together, including several trips to the Zoo (David’s favorite), several trips to the beach, and one big trip to see Bonte’ and Lee.  We had a ball.  I think we gained several pounds each just being at their house with all the good food we ate.  Well worth every lb though.  At least I thought so at the time.  My absolute favorite thing of the 10 days, other than seeing my man, was seeing bub’s band play at a festival.  I was in heaven.  I couldn’t have been more proud, more happy, or had a better time.  He is a machine of a drummer.  It made me miss playing with him, but not in a sad way.  The only thing that would have made break better was if we could have actually hung out  with bub. I miss him. Leon has been histerical as usual.  We were listening to The Paper Tongues last night and I stepped out of the room for a minute and heard the following; “I miss you Aswan”.  I about died to find him hand-over-heart area, saying, “I really miss you Aswan”.  Then we were watching their daily studio video, in which Uncle is talking, and upon seeing him began jumping up and down waving his hand shouting…”hi Uncle, hi!” He thought it was Skype.  Unreal.  You know we live in the century we do when a 3 year old automatically thinks seeing someone you know on a video means you are Skyping. It was too cute.  We really do miss Uncle and many others too.

We have been doing an advent calendar counting down the days first to Aunt Bonte’s and Uncle Lee’s, which has now come and gone and then to Grammy and Pee-Paw’s.  I have been trying to explain the concept of counting down sleeps.  I’m not sure he quite get’s the concept.  He’ll point to random boxes on the calendar and say, “these are my sleeps, and those are yours”.  Oh well, it was worth a try. He is very very concerned aobut Hobes no longer having toys for him to play with.  Speaking of Skype, every time we do with anyone at Mom and Dad’s he wants to talk to Hobes and asks if he can see Hobes room and his guys.  The other day in the car he matter of fact-ly said that maybe Hobes could turn into a little boy again so that he could have toys for him.  Brilliant idea and hilarious train of thought.  He also said that Sol should go to Baby school so that he could turn into a tiny, tiny baby like Daniel (our friends 2 month old baby).  We love that he knows school is for learning, and that if someone needs to learn something, be it turning back into a baby, or learning to be a ninja, that school is the answer.

Sol hardly says a word but gives as many snuggles as Leon’s words if you were to add them up.  He finally said Mama the other day.  We are frequently trying to get him to say things.  The other day we were asking if he could say “bird”. After several times of trying to get him to say it, Leon said, “Sol, can you say Pter0dactyl?” He is un-real.  At Uncle Lee’s after days of crawling on hard wood floors, and cement, Sol’s knees were bruised. He can walk, he just hasn’t fully connected the dots.  So, rather than walking, he resorted to butt scooting.  It looks hilarious.  What was equally hilarious is that Uncle Lee thought his butt must itch.  I laughed so hard.  Too funny. It is a logical thought, but I think bruised knees was the problem rather than an itching butt.  I will keep it in mind though, if in the future it is ever a problem.

I feel blessed and a have felt a new wave of grace this last week as well.  It has been the first week of our summer schedule.  David’s schedule is a whopper for him, and I am daily praying for grace for these 6 weeks for him.  I am thankful that it has been less difficult than I had imagined.

Miss you as always.  All my love,


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