Goodnight

He's sleeping now. A few minutes ago, I tucked him in with our usual ritual: a kiss on the forehead, traced over by the sign of the cross. I'm hoping that God's perfection will cover my imperfections as a parent... and praying that he has a safe and healthy night.

...

It's ironic, that prayer on this night. This is the day most Christians remember the Son of God suffering, dying. I stare at Kaden's sleeping face, thinking about all the nights I've come to watch him breathe, to reassure myself that he's fine. I wonder how often Mary did the same.

...

Deep down, I know that our faith in God won't necessarily prevent any suffering or sickness or death. Today that reality is all around me, daring me to just look at his own Son, the one who "couldn't save himself" and whom God didn't save from this destruction. I know, in my head and my heart, that the cross is a symbol not of God's protection, but of God's *presence* with us. Whatever life brings, whatever sorrow comes unbidden and unwelcome, whatever awful things that I can't even bear to think about happening... we are not alone.

...

There are nights Kaden wakes crying, always desperately, always in what seems to be the darkest hour of the night. I am continually surprised that my simply holding him quiets the storm inside so completely that he is able to drop back into a deep sleep within minutes.

...

On those nights- on this night- having Someone around is enough.

...

another anniversary

Well, here I was, thinking of a blog entry on spring... when the clock hit midnight and now, it's an anniversary. Not just another one, and not really a happy one... it was ten years ago that Dad died. Today, I wonder how it could be a decade? I can remember so many things about his last days... when the date "March 26" comes up, they flood back. This post couldn't begin to hold them all.

Fortunately for us, and even more so for Dad (!), it was a mostly peaceful journey, even a happy one. He had resigned himself to dying. Not like resigning from a job you'd rather keep, but like resigning to refresh yourself before taking on a new, better opportunity. Even when you don't know what that better thing is, exactly.

One day around our last Christmas together, I mentioned something about us going to Arizona for one of his life dreams. He said, "No, I'm not going to see the Grand Canyon." I started that talk, the one most family-members-of-a-cancer-patient start: Don't talk that way. Be positive. If we... maybe.. He interuppted me. "No, Kristi, it's okay. I'm okay with it. I had my talk with Jesus, and we're good. I'm ready."

He was. He might've been the only one in the family truly ready. I know I was taken by suprise a few months later. Our spring break visit didn't include the beach and a wedding, but hospitals and hospice. He spent the last few weeks at home, acting more and more like a little kid. In the joyful, carefree way of a child who only wants to be surrounded by people who love him. Just to... love. To... be.

Every morning, he'd ask Mom where each family member was: Steve. Mark, Theresa. Kristi, Jim. He couldn't nap until he knew where each of us was, what we were doing. He included friends who were like family, asking to see them.

~~~

These days, Kaden reminds has a similar routine: Nana? Daddy? Mama? Nick? Lexi?

I wonder, of course, what my dad would be like as his grandpa. I know he would love him, as surely and quietly as he loved the Dodson boys. But what about the specifics? Would he want to be called Grandpa? or Pop? Would he be hands off, or down on the floor? How would he talk to him about football? let him take part in gardening? learn woodworking in the garage?

Ten years later, I still wonder. When things are new, or "especially special", I think of him. I wonder, and remember. And today, I'll tell Kaden stories over pancakes that spell out c.a.r.l... maybe drive down to swing through the Arby's near the airport... and if we're lucky, visit the island lighthouse where we thought we said our last goodbye.

"Saints of God, come to his aid! Come to meet him, angels of the Lord!

May Christ call you to himself... Grant him eternal rest, O Lord,

and may your light shine on him forever."

This is how we roll

Farm Boy

There's a really neat place near us... a working research farm whose mission is to end hunger. They work on all sorts of cool things... training missionaries for third world assignments... appropriate technologies (i.e. how to build a water pump from stuff you find in the junk yard)- most of those are human powered. They look into stuff for different areas: rainforest, semi-tropic, urban rooftops... It was a favorite place of my Dad's way back in the day. It's still one of our favorites.

Today, ECHO had their annual FARM DAY celebration. A few bucks gets us in, and then.. WOW. Tons of demonstrations on how to grow food, how to use/ re-use the non-edible parts. And... all sorts of way cool edible samples. Turns out Kaden likes Lemongrass Ice Tea better than Orange or Sugarcane Juice (which is straight juice squeezed out of the cane... and no where near as sweet as as it sounds!). Coconuts and tangelos were a hit, but fresh roasted peanut butter and purple yams were tasted and passed on.

One of the best parts of the day? the animals! Bunnies: set up in a hutch where the roof grows veggies, they live in the middle (about eye level) and down below catches their "fertilizer". Goats! Ducks in a pond that also has Tilapia! Chickens- set up in either movable coops or within perennials so they can eat the bugs and fertilize the crops. The friendly chicken was the absolute best... check out our little farmer, with a small smile and a tiny hand wrapped around those feathers:

Right after this, the chicken flapped his wings a bit. The whole crowd flinched- not Kade. But he was done holding the chicken and content to just pet it! The photo is thanks to Tasha- a great childhood buddy I was able to reconnect with today (one of the redeeming features of facebook).