So I wrote most of the wasp story by hand while we were camping. I started typing it here this morning, but had to quit to have school with the girls. About lunch time they were swept away by a friend for an overnight and I went over to GrammaJ's to observe the very exciting (We're talking I don't know if she'll be able to sleep tonight exciting) finishing of the screening in of her back porch.
She has always wanted a screened in porch, but after the hornet incident, screening became an obsession. The poor woman was so traumatized by that one sting that she would only go out back to hang laundry on her porch if she was wearing a hat, gloves, long-sleeved coat and BIG ole sunglasses. In 90ºF weather. And that, after the nest had been destroyed.
Finally, today her dream came true. Halleluiah! However, her dream took up almos 6 hours of my day. You know, lots of ooooing and ahhhing and cleaning and painting and moving of plants and lawn furniture. The builder (a friend from church) did a fabulous job and my mom is ecstatic. So I feel it was time well spent.
I came home around 6 pm fully intending to use the rest of my quiet evening to wax poetic about wasps. Unfortunately, there was a sad message on my phone's answering machine. Some dear friends of ours - who are already going through some hefty trials - just got word that their son was killed in Afghanistan.
Somehow a light-hearted blip about wasps seemed inappropriate.
Somehow, the fact that my own son will be home from Iraq on leave THIS WEEK (God willing) becomes a thousand times more precious.
Somehow, the unexpected e-newsletter I got with an essay and pic of Scout in it seems priceless.
Somehow, Funsocksgirl's 26th birthday (she's our eldest), seems like an extraordinary blessing.
God, have mercy on those who are grieving...