I've been meaning to write here a lot lately. In fact, I've pulled up this screen several times of the past few days. But it all seems so trite.
I want to write about everything.
I want to savor each funny story and silly saying.
I want to include inside jokes that sadly I've already forgotten.
I want to brag on L to future L and let him know how simply amazing he is.
I want to hide it all and not write a thing and personally, selfishly hold on to every moment.
Today marks the 167th day of our life together.
167 days of silliness, learning, and creating.
167 days of grumpy pants, Farty McFarts, tickle fights, those perfect preschool laughs, and those heart breaking cries.
I hurt him today. His first "serious" injury since moving in and I did it. (Before you get too worried the "serious" pain ended up lasting only about 20 minutes and it is nothing a pack of frozen peas, a band aid, and a caramel apple couldn't fix.)
We were driving home from Aldi around 7:30. It was late but I'd picked up Taco Bell. that should have been an omen. The sun had gone down and the autumn chill was taking a hold. He had his window down. We had been talking about this off and on for the 15 minute journey home.
"I'm starting to get chilly. Can you please roll up your window?"
"I'm not chilly."
"Yes, but I am. Can you please roll it up?"
We were about 2 blocks from home, I glanced back and I rolled up his window. Oh, the joys of electric windows. He immediately got mad and started to roll it back down. "Why did you roll it up? I'm not ready for it to be up?"
"We are almost home. Just leave it up. Leave it alone." I shot back as I hit the child window lock (I've learned to do this to protect my window from going on a carousal ride, as this is an argument that is often had) and rolled the window back up.
I didn't look back.
I just rolled up the window.
I didn't know he had stuck his finger out in that split second!
Now, obviously this isn't the worst thing I could do to the poor kid. I didn't shut his fingers in the door. I didn't... I didn't... (I don't even want to think/talk about other options.) I have friends who had terrible things happen to their children. Sadly, sometimes even at their own (accidental) hands. And I know we had nothing close to that.
But we did have blood. And tears. And that silence right before the big wail. And me wondering if I was a bad parent for driving the rest of the block instead of immediately stopping and looking at the damage. And me parking, jumping out of the car, grabbing the freshly bought frozen chicken nuggets and wrapping the package around his precious finger as I quickly escorted him inside.
In 167 days I have not once questioned the existence God. I have thanked Him. I have been amazed by Him. I have praised Him. I have pleaded with Him. But not once have I really wondered if He was there. (I suppose this now makes you wonder if I did before. Of course, I did. I'm human. I struggled with this particular topic immensely while living in Chicago.) The Lord is my Rock, on which I depend. I cry out and He answers. Our needs have been miraculously met.
On nights like this, I'm left again in awe of God's timing in all of this. Not in the finger smash. that's silly. in ALL of THIS.
I have L at a time when I am surrounded by my friends. I barely see my friends, but they have me surrounded. The best example of that is the family I share my house with. They have the downstairs apartment. We are up. It just so happens I've known them for almost a decade. They are some of my closest friends. They also have a daughter. They also have had a lot of stupid parent errors. They also have had a lot of stupid human errors. In fact, the husband of the family recently smashed his finger. I mean SMASHED his finger. badly. Four months later and he still doesn't have full feeling.
They were home when I crashed through their door this evening with a wailing child. Deryck knew how to make L feel better. "It's going to hurt but you will be okay. Look at mine..." He knew how to make me feel better, "It's not broken. a car window isn't strong enough to break through bone. It's just nerves."
God is good.
He knew what I needed. He knows what I need.
And for 167 days I've had it.
For 167 days I've been a parent.
And I am so glad this adventure gets to continue.
I am so in love with this life.
I am so in love with this boy.
I am so in love with this God.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
I think of this blog quite frequently. (Obviously more than the sporadic posts let on.) However, I must admit that I often get overwhelmed when I think of writing here. This was my blog to allow the world to follow my crazy SuperTrip adventure. It was focus on a life in a 2003 Ford Focus. It focused on a girl seeing as much of the world as she could and then trying to find her place in it. She thought she would find her place during that adventure. When she, I, didn't, it was sort of hard to continue writing here. Who wants to read the daring adventures of the (wo)man-child who lives at her mother's and watching MeTV all day? no one.
If you've continued to read past the SuperTrip, it becomes pretty evident that I couldn't find my footing after the trip. I don't mean in life (well, of course, I mean in life, but not only in life), but here in the blog. I went from to posting about awesome sights and crazy side trips to getting political to becoming obsessed with Pinterest and trying to create a DIY blog. (For record, my mom is so NOT a fan of the DIY blogs.)
So where does that leave us?
I considered a name change. But "Nomad No More" was taken by a guy who hasn't written since 2005. bummer.
I considered shutting down this blog completely. Uh. no.
And then tonight, after months (and months and months) of consideration, it hit me: I'm still a nomad.
Though God has blessed me with an incredible city, an incredible apartment, an incredible job, and an incredible, incredible, incredible circle of friends, to the point that I feel stable, secure, and (though it makes this commitaphobe shiver a little) even settled, I've been realizing that my adventure isn't over.
God has an amazing sense of humor and timing.
Just when things were getting boring and routine, I got a phone call.
Long story very, very short: I now am the legal guardian of a 4 year old little boy until August 19th.
The words "boring," "routine," and even "dull" never get used around my charming apartment anymore. Instead I wake up and have no idea what is going to happen each day. And I LOVE it!
God is good.
The nomadic life returns.
This blog will continue to follow my nomadic journey, it just might be more kid centric for the next few months. :)
After all this world isn't my home anyway, I'm still just a traveler, stopping here and there, following my Leader doing what He tells me to do.