'Hood

If you want to beam me Judy Jetson-like over to your house, you should text me multiple times while I'm at church petitioning me, "Can you be my hero? Huge favor!" and then call me and ask me to come over to watch your daughters while you go bring something to your neighbor who is in the hospital. That's what my dear friend and sweet neighbor Sierra did last weekend.

She asked me to come over by 3:45 p.m.

I was riding so fast with Baby Girl on the toddler seat of my bike, you could hear da-dump-da-dump-da-DAH-DUN, I was Mrs. Gulch pedaling fiercely against the din of reggaetone over to Sierra's. I reached her driveway by 3:42 p.m.

When I arrived, the scene was not at all as I expected.

Her daughter C was riding her trike. Sierra was totally at ease, like I had just arrived at a backyard party.

Oh wait.

Why is my friend Anna and her family following me up the driveway? Did Sierra frantically call everyone she could just to come help her with this neighbor hospital errand help thing?

Oh, wai--time out. Wait, what? WHAT?

Oh.

I seriously have the bestest friends.

***

The next four hours was a curtain call. Assorted cast members from This Is Your Life: Boston entered from stage left and stage right. Many wonderful cameos by many wonderful people.

Mid-way through the night, the following photo was taken:

The gravity of this moment, in an e-mail to Sierra, et. al.

As I stood in the backyard of my friend Sierra's last night, stooping down for a picture with all the neighborhood kids, there was another crowd that seemed to be posing for a picture. So many of my Boston friends converged in that same backyard looking back at the kids. Like two Red Rover lines Care Bear staring one another down. My young friends, my golden friends, friends who have seen me on my darkest days. Friends who brought me homemade food when I was wearing a veritable diaper in the hospital after having a turkey lifted out of my womb, friends who prayed for me, friends for whom I prayed, friends whose children I would run into a burning house to save like they are my own.

If you've made it this far, bless you. In short, I thank you for your love for me and for my family. I am so much poorer than that girl who had cab fare in 2002, but infinitely richer in love, laughter, and indomitable spirit. I hold you all close to my heart, tucked under a pink feather boa. I am honored to call you my friends.

UnFun-eral

I went to a funeral this past weekend. I took Little Man. It was in Chicago. I have various thoughts on the trip:

1.) The MidWest: Sometimes I find oppressing the nasal vowels and overcompensating friendliness of the MidWest. Not this time. I was all about O'Hare gate agents asking for my boarding payaaaaaaasssssss. When you travel with a wee one, the heaping helping of neighborliness is welcome.

2.) Twizzlers Pull n' Peel: It is possible, in case you were hazarding a guess, to inhale nearly a whole bag of these whilst contending with grief and elder Koreans telling you to change your shoes because you look tired. The?

3.) Bigheaded Assurance: In case there was any doubt in my own mind, as in, Ohhhhahaha, maybe I'm just exaggerating because I look at him everyday, my son does indeed have an enormous head with an immense forehead, rendering him a genius, of which, at last count, every other elder Korean at the funeral did not hesitate to inform me.

4.) Burden: I have attended two funerals in the last two years for men who have passed away in their fifties, who have left behind loving wives and loving sons in their twenties. Men nearing middle age, please please see your doctor regularly. And please heed your doctor's counsel.

5.) Absentia: Just over 24 hours away from Baby Girl was enough of an interlude for her to cloak herself in a whole new lovely layer of sweetness. When she awoke at 3 a.m. this morning, it was apparently due to the fact that, "Let me just give you a hug. Night."

6.) Last solo flight: I think this was the fourth roundtrip flight I have made as one parent traveling with 1-2 children. I think I overheard my lap say, "Annnd, scene! That's a wrap!" this last trip. I hope I don't have to fly sans Loverpants anytime soon. Or again. Ever.

7.) It's good to be back to this:

Lucky #7

This story doesn't begin here, but my version of it does. Sort of. Around Valentine's Day, I was trolling etsy for cutenesses and this card gave me a twinkle in my eye.  I just had to have it and I didn't know why.  I'm an Austenphile, for certain. But something was tugging at my heart that I needed to buy this card for someone.

I traded e-mails with the designer of the card.  She was selling it in sets for Valentine's Day, and I just couldn't spring for an eleventy four dollar stationery at the time.  So I waited.

I waited until about a month ago. When I saw that she was selling individual cards.

I bought one.  Turns out the designer is from my hometown. She lives right up the street from where my father and his wife used to live.

I kept that card, the "Mr. Darcy" card in my Important Things Box. I kept it until I knew for certain the person for whom it was intended.

*** I have a dear friend MC.  We met on the internets.  She is the kind of person who knows your favorite things and remembers them.  The kind of lady who always has company, who is always making lunch plans with old friends and new friends.  The kind of teacher that students remember and thank for putting them on the right course. The kind of friend that shares her heart and encourages your own.

MC and her husband have been adoptive parents-in-waiting since I first came to know them.  That was in 2007.  I have read their adoption profile so many times; it's written and compiled with so much intention and love, it should actually be core curriculum for everyone even contemplating the act of parenting.  The act of nurturing another life in this beautiful, broken world.

MC and her husband have had their adoption profile reviewed seven times.  That means that they have gone through the emotional acrobatics of having their candidacy as parents reviewed SEVEN TIMES. They have waited seven times, their lives hanging in the balance, wondering if they were going to bring a son or daughter home.

***

I must have lost the Mr. Darcy card in a recent cleaning fit in preparation for a prospective tenant.

***

Last month, MC asked us to pray for the family of a baby girl reviewing her candidacy.

***

I had this feeling, though, that MC's Mr. Darcy was still out there.

***

Soon MC will meet her little Mr. Darcy.  Lucky #7.  I will be praying that their first meeting is sweet, that Mr. Darcy will be healthy and ready to come home and that MC will enjoy every moment with the new little love in her life.

*** Whomever, whatever your Mr. Darcy might be--let MC's story encourage you to keep the faith.