Today is the second day of spring break. Today is sunny and breezy. Today we will be given palm fronds at church and we will wave them in the air or you will try to chew on them and in this way we will remember Jesus' entrance to Jerusalem. For Jesus, today marks the beginning of the end--or perhaps the beginning of the beginning.
The mood in our house is similar, Thisbe. You woke three different times last night, crying and crying. We are trying to be good parents by not going in to touch you or feed you or comfort you. We are leaving you by the side of the road. This makes for odd remembrances of the night; I am never quite sure which cries were real and which were the ones that echo in my ears even after you have fallen asleep.
And in so many ways we seem to be between good tidings and sad tidings and tidings that have not yet...um...revealed their tiding-ness to us yet. We are trying, as much as possible, to do things that usher goodness and life in. Yesterday, a trip to the zoo. Today, our first jaunt in a (used) jogging stroller. Tomorrow, a trip to see grandparents and great grandparents and a lovely aunt and other friends.
Last night I dressed you in a striped, short-pants onesie and a floppy pink and white striped sun hat. I took you downstairs to where Daddy was gluing a tiny lamppost (not much bigger than a Q-tip) to the side of his model granary. In the dark cavern of the basement we laughed with you and tickled you and bounced you. Summer isn't here yet, and spring just barely, but we are reaching out with good faith and bare arms, we are laying down the branches so that we can get to the end of the story, so at this time next week we can begin all over again.
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