A Time to Laugh

I can’t stop laughing at this. I think I busted something.

• He asked for a hat. We tried khaki. “No, RED!” We tried orange. “No! RED!!!” The boy wants red. He got red. He loves it.
• He actually used the little potty. It’s now his favorite activity before and after his bath. Nothing actually happened except that first time.
• We got him a watch. He was fascinated with ours, so I splurged. It has a basketball, a soccer ball, and a baseball for a second hand. He loves it. He looks at it and grins GREAT big.

Well, I learned something about myself. Money is not a good motivator for me. I’m downright bad at doing something for money. Especially sewing. I think that’s why I’ve been so cranky lately. I have this thing hanging over my head that I have to get done for nothing but cold, hard cash. Hmph.

By tomorrow morning. I hope I have the energy for it today.

See — I can tell. I’ve got this nifty gizmo installed here that lets me know who’s out there. I can tell how they found me, what their ISP address is, what “business” is attached to that ISP, how long they spend, what city they live in, what browser they use, how long they spend, what’s in their coffee while they are viewing it.

And so I know. I don’t know WHY, but I know.

So I’m cleaning my office today. I found my overflowing drawer of cards and notes that I thought were unimportant. So it would be an easy job, right?

Wow. Everything from thank-yous for memorial dresses I’ve made to congrats for Isaac’s birth. I found silly birthday cards from my friends, flowery ones from my mom and dad, and a romantic one from my true love. I found a stack of sympathy cards from everyone. Even Joyce Parks and Elizabeth Edwards — my hoary-headed teachers now in Heaven telling those citizens to color their verbs and gesture with their whole arms. A tiny note from Dr. Bob mourning with us over our third loss. Little notes from my students saying they were thankful, saying they were praying, saying they were crying with us. Carefully colored original designs from my nieces to “cheer me up” when I was sad.

Wow. I didn’t expect all that.

While Mommy sews 

Elise’s Fourth Birthday Dress 

I’ve written this letter:

July, 2005

My dear friend,

I just want you to know how sorry I am. I’ve been praying for you for over a month now as I made this little dress for you and your daughter. I’ve been praying that you would have a blissful pregnancy with lots of happy memories of your daughter, that you would have an easy birth, and that you would feel God drawing very close to you right now. I promise to keep praying for you.

I know how confused and overwhelmed you are and how much you just wish you could hear your baby cry and see her kick and wriggle. I know how much your heart aches. And my heart is aching with you too. I’m so sorry. I know you miss her so much.

Our daughter Elise was born to Heaven four years ago this month, and we still miss her terribly. One of the hardest things about what you and I have endured is finding memories to comfort us. We’ve had such a short time with our girls. But maybe this little dress will help. A volunteer made a dress for my Elise, and I still treasure that little outfit. As I was making this dress for you and your daughter, I thought it looked so girly, all pink with roses and pearls. Every little girl needs to wear a string of pearls!

While I still cry very easily and still miss my Elise very much, it’s so encouraging to imagine the joy that your daughter and mine are relishing in a perfect place that has no tears. I know that God will someday wipe away all these tears, and I’ll be praying that you find your hope and comfort in His gracious kindness.

I’d love to talk sometime if you wish. But even if you would rather not, please know that I’m remembering you.

Camille K. Lewis
cklewis@alumni.indiana.edu
Für Elise Chapter
Threads of Love

We were finishing dinner, and Isaac was busying himself in the kitchen — throwing away trash and identifying things in the pantry.

He said next to the vacuum “scared [of] vacuum.”

Huh? What did you say?

“Scared [of] vacuum. Scared [of] Roomba.”

No way! My son is expressing emotions. All that reflecting feelings is sinking in.

Isaac creates a pants-optional work of art.