On the Porch in the Wilderness

So it’s April 11, a nice cool day in Central Texas after a couple of unseasonably summery days. But then, the start day of summer is nebulous around here. I haven’t blogged in a long time, though I’ve had lots of profound thoughts, so for those of you in the Blob that are clamoring for another glimpse into the heartfelt, awkward world of Lindsay, Thomas, and Drew, here you go—some things that have happened in the last couple days:

1. Thomas continues to watch old Sci-Fi movies and I continue to listen to true-crime podcasts. Drew is learning the words to the songs from The Prince of Egypt, and his favorite is The Plagues, though he doesn’t know many words besides “You who I called brother” (it comes out ‘you I called you brudder’”. We watch the scene at the Red Sea together while I tear up and he says “We made it! Everybody run!”

2. Drew has had a stomach virus, and we went to the doctor on Tuesday. He didn’t want to do it, and he sat scrunched against me, crying, while the doctor checked his ears and throat. Then, when it was over, he cried out triumphantly, “So bwave! You were so bwave at the doctor! Bye Mrs. Doctor!” And then we sang the Plague song from the Prince of Egypt, which must have been very comforting to the parents of the children in the other rooms.

3. Drew is recovering just fine from the virus, but he spent today home with me. It was all about snuggles and songs and jumping off of stuff. It was also all about cheerios, toast, and applesauce, which he soon grew tired of, but who can blame him? Today we got bored of the living room and I opened the screen door. We stood on the porch as the wind whipped his hair around, framing his sky-blue eyes. “What do you see?,” he asked me, guessing my question. Then he told me everything he saw—cars, sky, birds…

4. I had some kind of sinus infection, but the medicine is doing okay.

5. I tried to learn a dance, and things went badly. I’m fine, though.

6. I haven’t cooked much for Thomas—what with the sick Drew and the sick me, and he’s been very stressed out. So tonight, I treated him to frozen peas sautéed with sesame oil and garlic, accompanied by microwaved potstickers. Yeah, we’re both still hungry.

7. Lent continues, and according to the Bishop, we have more Lent behind us than before us, but it feels like it’s stretching. And it’s not all giving up sweets, singing somber hymns, and looking forward to Easter. Lent is about our own limitations. And mine are my shallowness are impatience—among other things. Giving up candy and cookies wasn’t that big of a deal once I got away from the chocolate drawer at work, but this year I’ve seen more and more the things in my life that are disposable, that don’t matter, that don’t bring anything to the table. Giving up candy was so easy—all the other stuff, the stuff in my brain, the stuff I take part in or partake of…that stuff is harder to trash. And getting rid of it is a lifelong journey. We are supposed to meet Jesus on that journey into the wilderness, according to the priest.

8. I’m not in the wilderness. But plenty of other people are—Grace, who I wrote about a few weeks ago, continues to go through treatments, and her family continue to struggle and pray and hope. She stays strong, though she’s just a little girl; she fights tooth and nail, and she’ll be fighting for awhile. I sounded the siren and y’all heard it, thank you for praying for her. But keep going.

9. My basil plants are growing above the soil. Every time I look above the kitchen sink I see them, these little specks of brilliant green. They drink up water every evening when I sprinkle a few drops in, and eagerly devour sunlight. I also know they breathe in what I breathe out, and so maybe they’ll grow quicker if I talk to them more. I hope they absorb the conversations I have with Drew, and I hope they like them. The plants should be ready to harvest a few weeks after Easter, closer to real summer. Life goes on, this planet keeps turning, and we’re just a bunch of kids looking around. Even in this season of Lent, where it’s so much grayer than usual, may we all have the courage to look around and ask “What do you see?”

Thanks, Team.