Knock, Knock

Noah: Mom, let's tell knock-knock jokes.

Jeana: Okay. Um...Knock, knock.

Noah: Who is it?

Jeana: Little old lady.

Noah: Little old lady, who?

Jeana: I didn't know you could yodel! (Yuk yuk yuk!)

Noah (totally deadpan): I can't.

I cried...

...because I had no shoes. Until I met a man who had no feet.

Follow Lingling as She Gives Lymphoma a Beatdown

I don't know this family, but I am caught up in their story. Their words, expressing so much pain, so much hope, are enchanting. Like poetry. They don't mention God, or prayers...instead they ask for lovely thoughts, wishes, or even just a wink. It's a beautiful mess and when I engage myself in their story I feel like I am joining with the angels, looking down at this fragile group of humans, trying desperately to understand God's plan for them. And I don't want to experience this story alone. I don't want to treat them as a freak show, but I do want to be in awe with someone else, and to have the chance to process with someone else. Because...well, because maybe my own pain hasn't been completely processed. Maybe I need to be okay about the footless man's story in order to be okay with my own lack of shoes.

So, get a box of tissues and then click on the above link. Start with the first post and read through all the archives. (The blog was only started last month, so you'll get through them quickly.) Then read the letter to Lydia. And look at the pictures...and...well...you'll see.

Help Wanted

So...I'm gonna need a babysitter for a couple nights in July. They pay isn't that much, but the kids are real cute.

The dates and times are July 13th, probably for about 4 hours.

And July 21st--this one might be a little longer. Closer to 24 hours or so.

Let me know if you're interested!