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July 8, 2008

The Kitchen Table

Right now Hannah and I are sitting at the kitchen table. Steph is sweeping the living room floor--something she thoroughly loves to do. I'm catching up on some email and updating you all about my mom. Hannah's playing with my tea accessories. You know, tea balls to brew loose leaf tea, scoops, and a Maple leaf shaped tea strainer with a stand. I know, I'm a coffee snob and a tea snob. It happens. I'm a guitar snob too. That's not the point of this post, however.

It seems that my tea balls have pulled up to a drive through (the scoop thing) and they are ordering a zipple ipple triple scooper thing. Now they are getting the dipple, dipple things. There's nothing like the high pitched play voice of my little daughter. Now they are getting camper dampers. Amazing. I wish I had time to secretly record this and post it for you. Some day, maybe.

My mom, for those of you that have been keeping us, is doing well. She's been to the doctor for bloodwork and her diabetes. It seems that her sugar, because of the meds she's on and all the stress her body has had lately, won't go down between 300. She started on insulin shots today. Hopefully she won't be on those too long.

Thank you for all the prayers the past week. My mom thanks you deeply and she asks that you continue to pray. She also is singing the praises of my father, the super nurse. Now, if you knew my father, you would chuckle at that and say, "Not Junior." You see, my dad is an old school guy. he was up at the crack of dawn and out to the factory for more than 40 years of life. He worked hard so we had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. He endured plant closings, stolen retirements because of corporate decisions, and much hard work that has worn on his body. He's the man that is as tough as nails when it comes to anything, holding back emotion because that is what you did back then. You would never picture him crawling up on the bed, looking tenderly into my mom's pained face, and asking how she's doing.

As one of his sons, its beautiful and humorous at the same time. Beautiful to see the love that we always knew was inside coming out in raging forms. Humorous in watching him try as hard as he can, sometimes bumbling along the way.

It is a beautiful thing to see those you love, loving on and caring for one another like God has called us to do. It brings new perspectives to love one another and put others needs before your own. Its things I know and live out, but because of watching my father and my mother, I'm going to try even harder to embody and live out.

Love is a beautiful thing when lived out to its fullest. . .

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