Men at work #2

Andrew managed to snag a day off on his birthday, May 26. Seeing as how he works as the senior aquatics lead at a water theme park which always opens (2020 excepted) on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, I maintain that his initial birthday was poorly scheduled.

In normal years, and this year is sort of kind of semi-normal, the leaders at White Water spend the weekends in April and lots of days in May doing all the pre-season work—hiring guards and training them, cleaning hundreds of chairs, setting up and tweaking procedures, testing rides, completing lots of paperwork, conducting general and departmental orientations, scheduling guards, ATLS, and leads, cleaning pools, prepping innumerable tubes, etc.—that has to be done before opening day.

Andrew planned to spend his birthday with a friend’s family in Arkansas, leaving here around 4:00 PM on the day before. He was originally scheduled to be off on May 25 as well, but things at work were hairy, and he ended up having to work from about 7:00 AM to 1:00 PM that day. He had reminded me that even though he had to work, he’s still fulfill his commitment to Scott to mow the yard before leaving town. Gotta love that kind of diligence in a man. The problem was that by the time he got home, it was starting to rain. Ugh. Obviously the yard wouldn’t be mowed that day.

But Andrew! He made a sandwich, put on his hooded rain jacket, went out back, and proceeded to spend the next nearly two hours mowing the yard in the rain! You can’t tell in this picture that it’s raining steadily, but it is; enough that I was trying to cover my phone while taking the picture.

Mowing in the rain

Seated on a towel and driving right-handed
Not shown: sandwich in left hand = )

I was proud of Andrew on his final day of 21-ness. I’m really proud of him on all his days!

38 days

I wanted to send Josiah a gift for his birthday, hopefully something that would delight him, and I had an idea of what I’d like to do. I did some fun shopping, some creative wrapping, and some tedious packing, and then on January 12, I took the box to the Rockaway Beach post office and mailed it.

[Note: Jo has told us that at his own mailing address he can receive ONLY cards and letters. Anything else, like a box of any size, needs to be mailed to the address of a friend who can receive packages. That’s why I addressed this particular birthday box to both her and him. After a truly maddening and convoluted four-attempt delivery of an Amazon package to Josiah via said friend at Christmas, I decided that the Taiwanese postal service might be more likely to get this box to the correct address if it were addressed to the actual resident at that address (Katy Levinson), and I included Josiah’s name so she’d know it wasn’t for her.]

In addition to the above-mentioned Amazon fiasco, Christmas also involved significant delays in getting packages from Walnut Shade to Jessica and her family in Hong Kong, so, since I pride myself on learning from past experience, I decided to guarantee a my victory in this game of international shipping and receiving by mailing Josiah’s birthday box way too early. That way he’d be sure to receive it well before his birthday on February 17.

I also sent him a birthday card, although I don’t remember what day I mailed it, and on February 11, Josiah sent me this picture of the back of the card’s envelope with the comment, “That’s a very shallow root system.”

I was pleased that he really liked both the photo on the front of card and the notes we wrote on the inside. = )

And then I asked him if our package had arrived, but no, it had not. I was quite surprised and a bit disturbed. It had been mailed a month earlier. Where the heck was it?!? Well, at least it was still six days til his birthday.

I called Josiah at his midday on his birthday, and we had a long, enjoyable conversation. I really do like to get to talk with that man. And then I again asked if he had received his birthday box yet? Sadly, no, he had not. Bummer. Although I was pretty disappointed, I consoled myself and told him (and me!) that it would surely show up some day, and when it did, he’d have what I hoped would be a pleasant surprise. Alas and alack, with kids living in southeast Asia, shipping challenges just seem to be par for the course, and I’m sure a global pandemic hasn’t helped anything.

I recalled a situation with Scott’s dad many years ago. I had mailed a letter to him and Mom when they were living the COWWDNS (“Country of Which We Do Not Speak”) and they received it some five months after I’d mailed it, and on its way , it had gone to some completely other country… I don’t remember which one; maybe Cambodia? Mongolia? Russia? Anyway, I mentally settled in for Jo to be opening his birthday gift in April or May. At least the contents of that box weren’t perishable!

Then very early on my February 18 — which was the evening of his February 19 — Jo sent me this picture, which totally made my day!!!

Yes, this was the inside of that much-anticipated birthday box. It took 38 days to get there, but oh, Hooray!

And then that evening he sent a WhatsApp message to our family group saying that he was “Getting around to opening now – starting with ‘something (and round) soft’ 🤪.”

So Katie, Jessica, and I were able to video chat with him while he opened — and approved of — each item: a couple of eminently tactile dish scrubbers (which, remind me to describe his dishwashing situation), a re-packaged bag Combos (you’ve gotta save space with international shipping), a square of raspberry chocolate, two bottle stoppers, a packet of peanut butter M&Ms, and a mini-griddle. Josiah seemed quite pleased with the various items, and I was thrilled to learn that Taiwan’s 110V, 60Hz power should enable him to safely operate his mini-griddle.

So the four of us had a grand time visiting and laughing during the opening ceremonies, and there was only one minor problem.

It was about 10:30 PM Thursday evening here, 11:30 PM for Katie in Virginia, and 12:30 PM Friday in both Taipei and Hong Kong. It being midday there, while we were video chatting as Josiah opened his gifts, Jessica was hanging laundry out on their balcony. They don’t have a dryer, so everything gets hung up to dry – either out there or, when it’s rainy, inside their apartment. Ezekiel (20 months old) had been out there with her, but he was throwing things off the balcony, a BIG no-no. To punish him, she sent him back inside and closed the sliding door. But evidently she closed it too hard or something, and it latched. It locked shut. With Jess outside and Ezekiel inside alone. Now, Jessica’s not one to panic. She just said, “I’m going to have to drop off the call; I’ll get back on once I get inside.” She called Matthias who was at the base and told him he had to come home (I think it’s only a five-minute walk, perhaps less if you realize your very bright and curious toddler is suddenly wandering through the house unattended) and let her in, which he did.

Oh yes, and about Josiah and his dishes. He lives in a very nice little apartment, basically one living room/bedroom with a kitchenette and bathroom. It’s all sleek and modern and neat and clean, but get this: he has no hot water in his kitchen sink! Nothing’s broken; it just wasn’t designed that way. (Perhaps the kitchenette was an after market addition?) Not only does the kitchen have only cold running water; it also has only one sink, which can make rinsing a bit challenging. There is hot water in the bathroom sink and of course in the shower, so although the apartment is small enough that the two sinks are fairly close to each other, the whole process of washing dishes is pretty convoluted, what with trying to use hot water to rinse them before, wash them, and then rinse them after. I think Josiah sometimes does dishes in the shower!

Thankfully, his mini-griddle is non-stick, so hopefully clean up will be easy.

And thus ends the saga of Josiah’s Happy Birthday box.

Jeopardy question: What is TC5 X5J?

Answer: The license number of Andrew’s “new” 2005 Honda Accord, titled in his name!

This morning, one of Andrew’s profs allowed him to leave class early, so that Scott and I, in the Durango, could pick him up at MSU and drive to the house of Kim (the seller of said vehicle, from whom our family members have now bought a total of seven used cars) before she had to leave for work. We arrived there at noon, and by 1:00 PM, he had signed the paperwork, bought the car (with a loan from the First Familial Bank of Walnut Shade), driven to the license bureau, paid the sales tax and licensing fee, and was headed with license plates in hand to Chick-fil-A to treat us to lunch!

For one thing, if you ever want to buy a great used car in the Springfield area, go to Hughes Auto Sales. Kim buys and sells them, and Carlos fixes them up like new. They make a great team. (I had to nearly drag him to get him into this picture. He’s a superb mechanic and an all-around super nice guy.)

Andrew, Kim, & Carlos

And now I simply must tell you about the license bureau deal.

It’s located on the Park Central square in downtown Springfield, just a few doors from where Josiah used to live and work, and near where Andrew gets his suave hair cuts. Scott and Andrew were in Andrew’s car and I was following in the Durango. Andrew dropped Scott in front of the building and turned off the square (which is more like a circle) to find a place to park. As you probably know, parking in downtown Springfield – like parking in most downtowns – is hard to come by, but Andrew found a little lot just a block away that said “Free Customer Parking – 2 Hour Limit.” The lot was nearly full but just happened to have exactly two empty spaces, which we snagged.

We walked back to the building and found the appropriate office on the second floor. Andrew went in there while I, who on principle almost never pass up a bathroom, took care of other business before returning to the office. It was a standard, boring license bureau office: long line, no decor, one clerk, rows of folding chairs, etc. Scott and Andrew were up at the counter, no one was sitting in the chairs, and the long line (of nearly a dozen people snaking out into the hall) started back on the other side of the chairs. Feeling a bit self-conscious with all those people waiting, I walked past them and joined my handsome men at the counter, acting like I belonged there.

The clerk was nice enough, but she, Scott , and Andrew were just kind of standing around, and it seemed like something must be wrong. It turns out that Andrew was missing one of those four vital pieces of paper we all know you MUST produce in order to license a car in Missouri: title (well, he’d just signed that a few minutes before at Kim’s house, check), proof of insurance (the agent had emailed that to him and it was on his phone, check), proof of inspection (Kim had graciously had the car inspected and given Andrew that paper, check), and a paid personal property tax receipt for a year that I to this day can never figure out without looking it up. I had thought briefly about the personal property tax receipt, but since Andrew had never paid any personal property tax, he obviously wouldn’t need to produce such a receipt.

Well, I was wrong about that. Duh. You can’t just tell them you’ve never paid any personal property tax and don’t owe any; you have to prove it. Scott, brilliant man he is who thinks on his feet, thought, “Hmm, personal property tax, that’s a matter for our County Assessor,” so standing there at the counter he called Chuck Pennel! When we all get to heaven, Chuck will have extra jewels in his crown for all the times he has helped, advised, encouraged, and rescued the Roberts family. So Chuck told Scott what he’d need to do about that situation, and the clerk just calmly stood there with Scott on the phone and Andrew occasionally looking sheepishly over my head (he always looks over my head) at the long line back by the door.

The clerk said Andrew would need some certain form, and I think she – or was it Chuck? – gave Scott a number to call to have them send her the form that would prove that Andrew doesn’t owe any personal property tax. So Scott made another call, and while he was waiting for them to answer, he asked the clerk how much Andrew owed, and she told him. Young people today – and maybe all people today – only have debit cards or credit cards, and although the license bureau would take Andrew’s debit card, they would charge him a service fee, so, old school mom that I am, I whipped out my checkbook and wrote a check for the amount (which Andrew later repaid), and she handed him a receipt and two shiny license plates! Meanwhile, Scott gave whoever he was talking with on the phone all the pertinent info, and they looked Andrew up, and was he from Kansas City, and no he was not, etc. And then “they” evidently sent the required form, and just then, at that very moment, the clerk said, “Well, the internet just went down.”

I. Could. Not. Believe. It.

Not only would that mess up our own deal, what about all those people patiently standing in line on the other side of the chairs?!?

And the clerk said, “I didn’t get the form, but that’s OK, I heard you on the phone, so you’re good.” We said, “Good? Like, do we need to do anything else?”

“No, you’re all done. You can go. Have a nice day.”

And we went!

We went past all those people standing in line, and they were actually quite nice. They didn’t throw anything at us, and they didn’t say nasty things to us or about us. Some of them actually rode the elevator down with us, cheerfully joking with Andrew that it was all his fault, but nobody seemed the least bit mad or put out. It was all the favor of God!

After lunch I took this picture of The Man and His Car.

Andrew with his silver ’05 Honda Accord!

A mere 90 minutes later, he sent me this text: “the mileage is 107,344 and the license plate number is TC5 X5J. it has license plates on it, a parking pass, insurance papers in the glove box, and air fresheners on the vents. 🤪 oh and it’s registered with the University.”

That all makes for one very happy young man!

Hard-working man

During the final week of Andrew’s Christmas break, we had him do quite a lot of work around our “homestead.” It was not work he chose to do, but I was so proud of his diligence to get it all done – well and without uttering one word of complaint. At least in my presence, there were no eye rolls, no deep sighs, and no negative comments.

Now that he’s back at school, everywhere I look, inside and out, I see the results of his labor, and I think of him and smile – and sometimes cry a little. (It’s what moms do.)

We just gave him this list and told him it all needed to be done before he left for school the next week. How and when he did it was his business.

First, he thoroughly scrubbed down the outside of the grill.

Then he took down the Morning Glory vines from the mailbox and disentangled them from the green plastic mesh they climb on. That’s a much-hated task that I usually do in November or December but never got around to this year.

He also cleaned out the whole mailbox flower bed,

and the big bed around the dogwood tree. The big bed has some perennials that will benefit from a covering of mulch and leaf litter over the winter, so I asked him to just clear out the big stuff and leave me a layer of ground cover.

Next he worked with his friend, Zach, to clean out the left garage.

And when I say “clean out,” I really do mean “clean out!”

Andrew emptied out the tomato barrels,

and dumped and spread their dirt in the back bed. Ever since we relocated the iris to the big front bed many years ago, this back one has never really been a “flower” bed, but now it has potential.

He power-washed the propane tank, which had been basically brown with some white showing through. Look at it now!

And that was just the beginning of the power-washing. He power-washed the smokehouse. It was a test; we wanted to be sure the paint would stay on before he tackled more important things – like the house.

First he power-washed the back of the house,

and the area around the back door.

Then the front steps,

the front of the house on the porch,

and even the porch railing!

Everything is so bright and clean. = )

Inside, Andrew de-cobwebbed the whole house, although I don’t have photographic proof of that.

And then there was the cellar. Ah, the cellar. For 22 years, we’ve collected more and more junk down there, especially to the right and up on the ledge. I went down there with him and told him I only wanted to keep three specific things: the milk crates, the stacking plastic cubbies, and a set of canning jars. Scott added miscellaneous paint and some other things to the list, and just look at the right side now!

I didn’t even ask Andrew to deal with the ledge, but I guess he was on a roll, and here’s how it turned out, clean as a whistle!

Andrew hauled two trailer-loads of junk to the dump.

He also cleaned all the first floor windows inside and out. Now I can look out back while I’m doing dishes, and my view of the bird feeder is crystal clear.  = )

Andrew, thank you so much for all your hard work!!! I really appreciate the many messy chores you did and your cheerful attitude while doing them. The results are wonderful, and so are you!  = )

 

Three in three

That would be final shifts at three different jobs on three consecutive days.

Today Andrew did his final Rendezvous cleaning, a quick turn that he finished at 2:00 PM. He’s been cleaning that house for six and-a-half years, since he was 12, and today an era has ended. I think he told Scott he might be willing to stay on an emergency-only cleaners list, but he’s no longer a regular RVR employee.

Tomorrow he will clean the Life Christian Center church building for the last time. I think he’s been doing that job weekly for about four years. He told me today that Pastor Barb had gotten someone else to do it. I don’t know who that is, but I do know that while Andrew’s been thankful to have that steady income each week, he’s also glad to be free from that responsibility as he starts college next week.

The day after tomorrow will be his final shift of the season as a lifeguard and ATL (Assistant to Lead) at White Water. He’s worked there for the past three summers, making “a lot” of money the summer after his sophomore year, “an amazingly huge amount” of money the summer after his junior year, and “some” money this summer after graduation; the reduction being result of his grand summer of travel. Andrew really wanted to go places and have fun this summer, and he’s been to:

~  Waxhaw, NC with Scott and me to see his grandma, aunts, uncle, and cousins (5 days traveling)

~ The Barn at Maryville, MO with his Chamber Singers friends (4 days traveling)

~ Yellowstone National Park, camping with Katie, Jessica and Matthias, Josiah, Scott, and me (12 days traveling)

~ Faith Ministries Youth Camp at Bear Trap Ranch in Colorado (8 days traveling)

~ Kansas City with his friends (2 days traveling)

In addition to those trips, Andrew’s also had a lot of fun closer to home, what with lots of hanging out with friends, bowling, a couple kayak trips, and going to a St. Louis Cardinals game with Jess and Matthias. And oh yeah, he’s also had a fourth job this summer: singing and serving ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. I’m pretty sure he’s worked his final shift there, because it’s Thursday now, and following a cookout here on Sunday with his friends and a number of their moms, he’ll be moving into his dorm at MSU on Monday.

I’m really proud of that man. It’s not just anybody who can wrap up three jobs in three days, but Andrew’s definitely not just anybody. He’s my son.  = )

 

We’ve got an ATL!

What exactly, you may ask, does ATL stand for? And is it something we want to have? The short answers would be, respectively, “I don’t know,” and “Yes, absolutely.”

Andrew, who started last year as a Life Guard One (LG1) at White Water and has since been raised to Life Guard Two (LG2), recently applied to be an ATL. It’s a step above LG2 and a step below Lead, and it involves some level of oversight of other guards, several more responsibilities, and a pay raise. All good things. Details I don’t yet know include:

• the particulars of other guard oversight (although I know ATL’s help train guards, make sure guards are doing their jobs properly, and confront/correct/instruct them when they’re not)
• an ATL’s specific additional responsibilities (although I know they clear the pools when needed – like in a rescue situation or when there’s lightning, and they are the ones who clean up “spills” – like when a guest poops or pukes in a pool)
• pay rates for LG1’s, LG2’s, or ATL’s

I do know that ATL’s serve as assistant managers to the “Leads,” so I’m guessing that ATL might stand for something like “Assistant to Lead” or “Always Too Lucid” or “Able To Laugh.” I also know that Andrew felt that his interview went “pretty well,” and he was quite pleased to have gotten the job. Today was his first shift as an ATL,and he was scheduled to work 10:20 AM to 10:30 PM. I suspect he will sleep pretty well tonight.

Two saves, one assist

No, these are not baseball statistics. They are SON statistics!

This is Andrew’s second summer working as a lifeguard at White Water, our local water theme park. All the guards receive extensive initial training (which they pay for) and then weekly on-going training that includes practice in rescuing people and dealing with all kinds of emergencies. Last year, Andrew worked all summer without having to personally handle any crisis situations.

One month into this summer, it’s been a different story.

First of all, he got the highest possible grade on his Ellis audit. Ellis is the organization that trains and certifies the White Water lifeguards, and they show up occasionally (incognito) and audit a guard. That is, they watch him carefully to see how he’s doing his job, and sometimes they do or create some situation to see how the guard responds. Generally, guards don’t know who is being audited; they only find out after the fact when they are told by their supervisor what grade they got.

Andrew is certified as an LG2 (he began his lifeguarding “career” as an LG1 last summer), which means he can work the wave pool in addition to all the other rides and slides. The wave pool is huge and six feet deep at one end. It’s the setting in which more serious incidents are more likely to occur, so some additional training and experience is required for those guards. I think there are four to six guards on the wave pool at a time.

One day a few weeks ago, Andrew was working the wave pool, when a male guest hollered at him, “This lady’s having a seizure!” Andrew immediately stopped the wave machine and jumped in. The woman was quite large (350+ pounds), on an inner tube, and completely unconscious. Andrew got her to the side of the pool, and then it took some six guards and/or guests working together to get her out of the pool and onto a backboard. An ambulance was called, and she was beginning to come around by the time the EMTs arrived.

Andrew was taken into the office and told he could go home, but he didn’t want to. The management questioned him to make sure he was OK emotionally and able to continue doing his job, and he was fine. But I will say that when he got home that night and shared what had happened, he was a pretty somber fellow. I think the fragility of life really hit him.

Then just a day or two later, he was not working and went to White Water as a guest to hang out with friends. As he was walking by the wave pool, there was an emergency. A female guard had jumped in to save a kid who was drowning. She had followed protocol;  first turning off the wave machine and notifying the office of the emergency, which should have brought immediate assistance. She had jumped in and – alone – gotten him out of the pool. Now she was working on the kid alone, performing CPR with a crowd of guests around, but STILL no help had arrived, and Andrew was appalled. He stepped up, took charge, ordered the crowd to back away and give them space, and maintained control of the situation till more help arrived. He was obviously not in uniform, and when a belligerent guest asked him who he thought he was, Andrew said (very firmly), “An off-duty guard. Get over it.” The guest dropped his ‘tude, the boy recovered, and management commended Andrew for his stepping in to assist as he did.

White Water guards wear lanyards with their whistles on them, and when they save someone in some way, they are issued a bead to display on their lanyard. Andrew received a bead for his rescue of the woman who had the seizure.

A couple weeks ago, he was again on stand at the wave pool in the afternoon. He’d been treated rudely by some guests, and he was pretty fed up with the antics of a group of young people who obviously couldn’t swim and were clowning around, pretending that they were drowning and hollering at him. I’m sure it’s difficult to stay calm when you’re being provoked like that, you can’t retaliate, and you have to discern who is and who isn’t really in danger. The guards at the wave pool have to scan their assigned area every ten seconds, and on one of Andrew’s scans, he saw a young lady (who clearly couldn’t swim) fall out of her tube and begin to go down. It was like the boy who cried wolf. The guy with her was trying to save her, but he was actually drowning both of them, so Andrew and another guard, Haley, both jumped in and did a two-man rescue. Both guests were OK.

Andrew later asked his head boss about a bead for that “save,” and John told him he’d take care of it “tonight.” Afterwards, Andrew felt bad about having asked about it, and he texted John. Here’s a copy of their conversation:

A: Hey John, I’m sorry about asking for the bead so soon after everything happened. That was selfish of me. If you choose not to give me one, I understand.

J: Ha! It wasn’t selfish at all. Well deserved my friend. The only reason I said “tonight” was because I figured you’d jump at the chance to go home. I’m super proud of you. You have handled yourself so incredibly well in some very pressure-filled situations. You’ll get it tomorrow if you’re here.  = )

A: Okay, haha. Thank you! I just didn’t want you thinking that a bead was my main motivation for saving someone.  = {

J: Andrew… You’re one of my favorites and one of the best and most exceptional kids I know. You’re an incredible lifeguard, but you’re a better young man. I know beads don’t motivate you to save people. Maybe free food, but not beads.  = )

A: I’m not going to say that I cried, but I came pretty close [referring to when he read John’s comment previous comment]. That means a whole heck of a lot to me and I appreciate you and everything you do for us lifeguards probably more than you’ll ever know. Thanks for making me look forward to coming into work every day.  = )

Wow! How’s that for an atta-boy?!? I’m so proud of our exceptional, incredible son that if I were wearing a dress shirt, my buttons would pop!

Labor Day

It’s supposed to be a day off for workers. At least that’s what I think it’s supposed to be. I guess I should have done some research before starting this post. But for the gainfully employed member of our resident family, it’s been not only a full day of work (9:50 AM to something beyond 7:30 PM), but the final day of work at his current job.

At 6:30 PM today, White Water closes for the season. Overall, it’s been a great experience for Andrew. He did all the legwork to get the job totally on his own. Entirely on his own initiative, he applied, was interviewed, attended multiple orientation(s), and training(s), and has been diligent to faithfully discharge his responsibilities as a a White Water Lifeguard 2 (qualified to guard the wave pool) for lo, these past three-plus months.

He’s made new friends, gotten a great tan, and learned quite a bit about customers (“guests”), bosses, co-workers, expectations, audits, scheduling, and the value of a good work ethic – not to mention the problems caused when some people are lacking in that department. He also knows what to do if a person is drowning, choking, having a seizure or heart attack, experiencing heat exhaustion or heat stroke, or has sustained a head trauma or broken bone. I feel safe with Andrew around!

After spending the summer working 40 hours a week at White Water, plus working an average of 10 hours a week cleaning our vacation rental home, plus working 2 hours a week cleaning the church building, I think Andrew has gained a substantial amount of work experience in the past few months, all of which will stand him in good stead as a young man.

He told me he’ll be both glad and sad when his White Water shift is over today, but he says he wants to do it again next summer.

I’m so proud of that guy!

 

Guess who I just saw?!?

ANDREW!!!

This is a rare occurrence.

Monday he came home for a while after school before going to volleyball at 6:00 PM.

Tuesday he went straight from school to the Rendezvous for cleaning. He then met us at the Branson High School open house, which he only attended because we required him to.

Wednesday he went straight from school to continue cleaning the Rendezvous to youth group at 7:00 PM.

Thursday he went straight from school to finish cleaning the Rendezvous to volleyball at 6:30 PM.

Friday he went straight from school to cleaning the church to a Branson High football game.

Saturday he worked White Water 8:30 AM to 6:30 PM, then came home long enough to clean his bathroom (which hadn’t been cleaned since – ahem – mid-July!) and eat supper before going to a youth group movie night at 8:00 PM.

And today he worked white Water 9:40 AM to 6:30 PM and went straight to a Bible study led by a couple with whom he plays volleyball. He asked me to make mac for him, which I did, and he came home at 9:30 PM.

The guy who walked in the door did look vaguely familiar, albeit darker (compliments of life guarding all summer). I was pretty sure I had seen him somewhere before.

It’s not supposed to be this hard

Josiah moved out yesterday. I knew it was coming. His rental agreement with us was through April, and he didn’t ask to extend it. It’s best for him and for us that he live on his own, so it’s a good thing, but it was not easy to load him up with groceries and household stuff and haul cords and monitors out of his room and look at him and love him and miss him before he even left.

I’m not sure what led into it, but he spent quite a while on my computer looking at aerial shots of various parts of Niger on google earth and showing me where he’d been and who lived where. It was neat to see. Ever the philosopher, he also talked about the importance of remembering what we’ve been through and who we are. How it’s good to look back even at difficult and painful experiences; to not lose hold of what we’ve gained. I agree.

It was nearly 9:00 PM when he drove away.

And I cried.

But only for three minutes, because just then Andrew walked in with a dental injury that needed to be attended to, so crying had to be postponed.

Then today, I decided to brave his room. I just needed to get it over with. To Josiah’s credit, he really had emptied it. All that was left was Scott’s desk, the trunk that holds our photo albums, a cheap flimsy dresser that desperately needs to be put out by the road while modeling a FREE sign, and a little TV stand-type thing on wheels. He took his bed and bedding. Said it’s really comfortable.

I loosened the screens and brushed out the thousands of dead ladybugs. I dusted the few pieces of furniture. I used a whisk broom to get all the crud (and more thousands of dead ladybugs) out from along the baseboards and then I vacuumed. The vacuuming was hard because as I worked my way around the room, I saw all kind of things: the brown crayon writing on the baseboard from when he was a little kid, the AIM paper plates on the wall, the picture of him at the Great Wall – so young, so fresh, so innocent, so happy; I remember those days. The days before his heart hurt so much and before everything started changing. Tears. His Loveland trail map. The cross with the nails. More tears. And the “Resolution” document. The one he and Scott and Dave Brown signed. Rivers of tears. I just couldn’t leave it hanging there to mock me. It hurt way too much, so I took it down and put it in the trunk with our photo albums. Maybe that will be my hope chest.

I cried awfully hard. Maybe sobbed is the word.

I went to my desk and decided to do something productive. I wrote a Niger update that I think was pretty good. It helped. I checked with some other folks to see how they’re doing. That helped. I did a bit of research on some possible source material for a project I’m working on. It helped some.

Later in the afternoon I was pretty OK, except that I had to keep tilting my head up to see my screen clearly. I finally figured out that my glasses were dirty. When I took them off, I saw the problem clearly: they were splattered with dried tears.

Today it’s really hard for me to see the Llama’s stall, all clean and empty, but I know these words ring true: “Take courage, O, my heart! He’s sure to come back soon because he forgot to take his panini press!!!”