Saturday, June 17, 2006


We are half way through a ten day trip visiting family - now with Jeff's side and heading to see my dad and maybe my brothers (they've been a little vague on the details) tomorrow.

It's hot here in the midwest, and muggy. I forgot that air could be like this, like water you have to swim through. But my brother-in-law's house where we're staying is air-conditioned (air conditioned! we never need THAT in Seattle!) and I find I'm not as bothered by the mugginess as you'd think.

Jeff was thrilled last night that we had a real storm with thunder and lightening. After Eli feel asleep, sat outside and watched the lightening until the rain came in big round drops. More of what we never have at home, where the rain comes down in silent mist. (At home? Isn't that funny...When we're in Seattle, we call Minnesota home. But when we're here, I guess Seattle is.)

Elijah spends every minute following his cousins around. My entire role in his life on this vacation seems to make sure he drinks enough water and doesn't eat too much sugar. He doesn't want any hugs from me and he doesnt want his cousins to see him in his pajamas.

We're talking like Minnesotas already. I can hear my "ohs" rounding more and more out. Even Eli is sounding like a little old Norwegian bachelor farmer. My sister-in-law was telling me about a big accident, which involved rolling off her bike and in front of a car that stopped just in time. Me: "Wow, did you get hurt?" Her: "Well, it wasn't as bad as it could have been." Nothing in Minnesota is ever as bad as it could have been.

I took the dog for a walk today along the little wooded trail by the house and saw a gold finch and a cardinal - those bright beautiful birds of my childhood. I thought about abundance and scarcity. There is so much room here. The sky is so big and fields spread out flat all around the house, even though we really are in town.

During the day, we have a very nice time - playing and reading, going out for pizza, laughing, worrying a little about the older relatives, watching Eli's cousin play little league, eating some more. But at night, every night since we got here, someone dies in my dreams and I spend my dream sobbing inconsolably. In my dream group back in Seattle, I've been learning that dreams are messages from God and that very intense dreams are very powerful messages.

I've prayed about it all morning, but I'm not getting any answers. What is dying? What am I grieving?

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