Have you ever thought about how different types of cheese are credited to different countries. For us as Americans...our cheese is unnaturally orange, covered in plastic, and contains the least amount of nutritional value of all the cheeses. What does that say about us as Americans?
Yep. It's gonna be a random one today.
It was absolutely blissful all week being home. I am feeling caught up on laundry and grocery shopping and meal planning and bill paying and check book balancing and post office running and doctors appointment making, and home school schooling. The coupon cutting and organizing...not so much.
Eli had his appointment with the Duke cranio-facial surgeon this morning. (Thank you Sheri for letting Ella and Ezra come play!)We have a lot to think about and decide on in the next few weeks. Our next step is to meet with a Duke social worker to talk through the implications of surgery on Eli and the best way to prepare him (and all of us) for it. Then another appointment with the surgeon. Then we will probably go ahead and schedule the surgery. As those who know me well know...I don't handle sickness and medical issues very well. It is my Achilles heel if you will. It is a good thing I have Jeremiah because he is awesome about those things. Surprise reason # 72 why I am glad I married him. I know I will be stretched and that the Lord will be equipping and sustaining me to get through this.
I made a discovery this week that just might revolutionize my life. Or at least the frustrations stemming from Ezra and his shoes. You see, Ezra has gotten really particular about his feet. Really particular. He will only wear crocs (happily) but would get frustrated numerous (very numerous) times when a little rock or piece of mulch or dirt or leaf or stick would get into this shoe. Seeing how his shoe of choice is one with holes in it...this was a major problem for him. And consequently...a major problem for me. Therefore, I present the solution:
Yes. I know he looks a little nerdy. But I am willing to sacrifice his vanity for my sanity. Or maybe my vanity for his sanity?
I am reading through the biography of Mother Teresa this week and was struck by the simplicity of this aphorism she used to write on the back of her "business cards":
The fruit of silence is prayer;
the fruit of prayer is faith;
the fruit of faith is love;
the fruit of love is service,
the fruit of service is peace.
This simple saying places silence as the departure point of prayer, faith, love, service, and ultimately peace. Yet Mother Teresa, who spent most of her life in large and overcrowded cities certainly didn't have an abundance of physical silence. She must have (obviously) learned to internally quiet her mind and heart.
Socks with crocs.
I warned you it was going to be a random one.