This is what happens when you're the parent of a toddler: gone is spontaneity; carpe diem is out, routine is in. (Frankly, as fun as spontaneity is, I love routine.) So it is Saturday morning again, Mr. Squire is at basketball (after letting me sleep in until 10 AM - GLORIOUS!) and Junior is napping.
And so much happened this week. SO much. Sigh.
Let's start with the single mom living with us. We had a big talk with her last Sunday evening, and--thanks be to God--it went really, really well. She was pretty receptive to everything we were saying, we set out our goals for her (she's cooking her first dinner tonight!), and generally gave her what I would call tough-but-loving encouragement. And I think God really gave especially Mr. Squire (who was doing the bulk of the talking) a special patience and love that wasn't nearly as present during our private discussions beforehand. God heard our prayers :) So all that's good.
* * *
Then the rest of what happened last week happened... the Voice singer, the Orlando attack, the toddler and the alligator...oh. my. goodness.
We were not directly affected by any of these events, yet they loomed large in our everyday lives. They weighed on our souls so heavily, and we trudged through the week feeling like we were carrying enormous burdens, but we weren't quite sure why. Of course, I've been incredibly affected by the attack at work; everything has changed about everything at the office--from what we are doing, to when we are doing it, to who is doing what, and to who is covering for the whos that are doing what, and when.
But the hardest thing has been just the sheer weight of collective grief in the community and region. I will note that there has been tremendous comfort and encouragement in seeing the community come together, but there is still this corporate shock and mourning that is still raw and palpable from day to day. I'm usually the bright and sunny, chipper lets-do-this worker bee at work... but this week, I was just so tired, and each day I thought it was later in the week than it actually was. I seriously thought Tuesday was Thursday--the week just seemed to stretch forever. And then I slept 11 hours last night. Because seriously: it was that kind of week.
It's hard to explain this situation to Junior, though I try, because she needs to know and we cannot (nor should we) hide the realities of evil in this world from our child. I explain to her that there are sometimes people who hurt others in a big way, and sometimes even in the name of God, but that's not who our God is. When she sees beauty, and order, and harmony, and compassion, and peace, and joy, and community--those are indicative of who our God is. And when she sees discord, and grudges, and evil acts against others, and fighting, and shaming--those are indicative of the enemy. And our job is to believe in God, and hope in Him, and reflect the things that show who He is. (And also know that we all contribute to the evil in this world, and need Jesus to help us.) It was a good teaching opportunity... but what a horrifically sad occasion to have a teaching opportunity arise.
The thing I've craved most this week is human connection. Usually I bring my lunch to work and work through lunch so I can get home sooner, and my co-workers have to drag me out to lunch once in a while (or I have to commit to myself that I will go hang out with them). But this week, I found myself trolling the halls, looking for a lunch partner, every single day. I just wanted to talk to someone, and process everything that was going on, and ... I don't know... feel better.
And then I missed, more than ever, our friends from our heart-home of New York. I received a few sweet and thoughtful emails over the course of the week, which I appreciated so much. I was actually surprised at how few people reached out; maybe they thought that because the attack took place in a gay Latino nightclub that we were wholly unaffected. But the grief is widespread, and I don't know how else to explain it, but when something like this happens so close to home, it's just different.
Anyway, I miss my friends. I miss my family. We have a wonderful life here, and it would be perfect, except for the big missing piece of our beloved community. And we are building community--and have been blessed in that respect--but it's just not quite the same.
Alas.
* * *
Father's Day is tomorrow. Yay for fathers, and for those of us who have fathers in our lives who are worth celebrating.
I bought a card for Mr. Squire that features a big bear on a bicycle with a little bear in the bicycle basket. It is so appropriate (SO appropriate!) because he always takes her to and from school on the bike, and she sits in a seat directly in front of him. Everyone in our neighborhood recognizes the baby in the green helmet on the bike with her daddy.
And she is, indeed, so so lucky to have Mr. Squire as a dad.
He changes all her diapers without complaint.
He makes her laugh when she is sad. And when she is not sad.
He prepares her lunch, cutting all those mushrooms, beans, strawberries, oranges, and pieces of chicken without fail.
He packs her lunch, making sure to include 2 cups (milk and water), 2 containers (fruit and lunch), and a half piece of whole wheat bread in her bee bag.
He plays with her after school for 3 hours each day until Mommy comes home--taking her to the playground, chasing her around the house, helping her perfect the art of lounging, feeding and cajoling her into finishing the remainder of her lunch (while bribing with cheese and goldfish), helping her water Mommy's airplants, etc.
He constantly studies her behavior in an attempt to understand her better. He knows that when she is not feeling well, she wants to sit in our lap and read "God Bless You and Good Night" (her book from Auntie Cze-Ja).
He cares for her so deeply and lovingly.
He teaches her new things constantly.
He shows love to her mommy.
He's the best daddy ever. You're welcome, Junior. Mommy picked a good one. (Okay, okay -- time to be humble... you're welcome, Junior. Mommy can't take any credit: God gave BOTH OF US a good one.)
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. We love you so much.
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