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July 16, 2003

Kitties

Alrighty, I've been compiling this for the past couple days, so bear with me again.

I can say with a certainty that I'm glad to be back in Flagstaff. I thought Oklahoma was hot? Hah. Phoenix was the broiler and I was the cheese crisp. Yikes.

Despite the heat, we really enjoyed the convention--at least the parts that didn't involve wrestling with the kids. One part of the program was an interview with a couple from Malawi who ministered to the congregations there. I don't recall their names, but the wife was wearing what I suppose is a more traditional African garb. And I was thinking, you know, if people in the Desert Southwest would adopt some form of African attire, dressing-up in the 118 degree heat might not be so miserable. Very cool, very loose. Anyway, as is usual when somebody from a non-English speaking country is visiting, they hold a short conversation in that country's native tongue. And whereas the Navajo language sounds a bit like an old Ford truck with a broken clutch trying to pop into second gear--which is cool in it's own way--the Chichewa language is fast, smooth as silk, and loaded with soft consonants, like ripples on a gurgling stream. It was beautiful.

Another part on the program revolved around the prophet Amos. You know, one of the books between Daniel and Matthew that you have to use tweezers to find. I really appreciate the situations that people like Amos found themselves in. He wasn't raised in the temple, or educated by prophets or scholars. He was 'a herdsman and a nipper of figs'. Which is how I feel sometimes when I'm sharing in the ministry. I'm a 'typer of keys and a clicker of mouse buttons'. What business do I have trying to share the good news with people? There are so many people more qualified to do this than me. But considering that even Christ's apostles were considered to be 'men unlettered and ordinary' helps me feel a bit less apprehensive. It's hard for me. You know, Mister Fluster. But I do count it a privilege, even with the usual smattering of angry folk, there's always the delight of finding people that are mild-tempered and a delight to talk to. I could learn a lot from their demeanor.

As any trip involving a hotel would dictate, the kids strongly requested a trip to the pool. The small pool. The small, cloudy pool. The small, cloudy, tepid pool. The small, cloudy, tepid pool chock full of splashing vacationers and clots of hair. When I reach down to pull out an undulating bird's-nest of hair to keep it from sticking to me, I know I'm ready to hop out, crying kids & all and splat splat splat back to the room. In fact, I think that was the very night that we had to do a major booger operation on Harrison.

Unlike Giselle, who is constantly digging the debris out of her nose, Harrison's nose gets bogged down with rubble if you don't keep an eye on it. And he gets really sensitive about any efforts to extract the calcified hangers-on. Well anyway, I heard all this screaming, and ran into the bathroom to see Amanda in the process of trying to start an extraction. So I jogged over and helped hold him still while analyzing the predicament. The clots were in there really good. A simple, downward nose-smooshing was not going to work. I tried loosening it with a tissue wound into a unicorn point, but it did nothing but tickle and irritate him more. So I asked Amanda for a bobby-pin, and she directed me to a hair clip with an appropriately shaped loop on one end.

Harrison's eyes goggled down at me like a horse rearing up from a rattlesnake, but I talked soothingly like a doctor doing a biopsy. "Now Harrison, we're going to see what we can find up there. Okay? Alright, I'm going to go verrry slowly. Now. See there. Okay I'm going to see what this thing is over here. Hmmm, it's holding on pretty tight. What do you think it is?" And with a steady reaming motion, I pulled out a magnificent, resinous marble that I displayed proudly before him. "Look! It's a refrigerator! Wow, a big one too!" He liked that. Mom used to play that game with me when I was a little kid. Now I see why. He let me go in for a second pass. I swirled about on the other side, and pulled out a smaller fossil. "Look! It's a kitty litter box!" And a teensy bit of wiping later, we were done. Well I guess I made more of an impression than I thought. Because now he's been calling his boogers "Kitties". Heheheh. He mentioned something about the kitties in his nose in front of our next door neighbor and got her cracking up.

While we were down there, we got to see Jennifer, Jessica, Atticus and Ophelia for a short while. Not enough to give them time for the kids to really get down to some serious playing. So we're going to cruise back down next weekend when we're not so rushed and worn out. I will be wearing my foil mumu and hat.

Oh gosh, and we finally got to see Dave (my cousin, in case you don't know) and Julie and their almost-two-year-old daughter Eva, who we haven't had a chance to see since she was born. They waited to start their family until their late thirties, and it's just incredible to see them with a little critter of their own.

And then there's Bill and Carol Free and John and Carol Wensel, who all look like they've gotten younger since the last time I saw them...which has been at least a couple years if not longer. I'm sure they were looking at me thinking my gosh, he looks more and more like a troll every time we see him. It's the haircut. I'm tellin ya.

Posted by Jeremy at July 16, 2003 3:46 PM