Children

Recovering from Vacation

Although the trip was wonderful, I’ve been somewhat comatose today: a headache and a kick-up of my eustachian tube troubles. I’m none-too-fascinating therefore, but here are a few little things to share about our Homecoming on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

On the drive home yesterday, The Princess said, “I think I might like to be a minister when I grow up.” I pointed out that when I was her age, it had never occured to me that a woman could *be* a minister. She suggested this meant she could get started at it sooner than I did!

#2 Son’s adventures with my new knives have made us the number one search for “Cutco” on Blogpulse. This does not mean that I want anyone else in the house to cut himself or herself.

I am thankful for having a husband who has shown his appreciation in a number of breathtaking ways since I returned. It’s exciting to be over 40 and in love with your spouse.

And I am also thankful for the air-conditioned attic room the boys share and their willingness to let The Princess come up and play GameCube there with them, allowing for the privacy the adults in the house craved so desperately. Not as inventive as jo(e)’s techniques (scroll down for “Sex on the Beach”), but effective nevertheless.

Finally, it’s good to be back in City By the Sea, to begin thinking about the coming year at church and school, to give thanks for this community that is largely welcoming and affirming to all. I got an earful of exclusivist, if not racist, talk on the trip. My sister-in-law complained about Salvadoran kids in the school system, and my college friends raved about schools that keep the “bright” (read “white”) kids separate from the rest of the population. (Read more about the school in question at Angry Pregnant Lawyer‘s place.) It is a relief to know that my kids are growing up in a different environment. As #1 Son said last night, “Yes, school needs to prepare you academically for college, but the more important things you learn are about working and living with other people.” Or as #2 Son put it, “We’re white, but we’re not ‘white.'”

O for a world where everyone respects each other’s ways,
Where love is lived and all is done with justice and with praise.
Miriam Therese Winter

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