Superlative

Monday evening, Papa called and talked to the boys, as he often does. As usual, he asked Blane about preschool (he goes Tuesday/Thursday all day) and I heard Blane say, "Yes, I'm going tomorrow. It's the best thing I've ever done."

Sonshine School is worth every penny!

Oink, Oink

Ah, it's wonderful when you find your family caught in the latest disease hype. Yes, it's true: novel H1N1 influenza virus (a.k.a., the swine flu), has hit the Harnden family, settling in on one bouncy member of our brood--Seth.

Seth woke up on Sunday with a bad headache, cough and a high fever. The flu suspicion began right away, but we confirmed it on Monday when his fever persisted and I talked to the pediatrician's office. Yes, the nurse said, it's all but sure to be H1N1 because the regular flu hasn't roused itself yet for the season. A test may or may not have confirmed it, but there didn't seem to be any point in pursuing that. We've kept him home, given him lots of fluids, and he has caught up on all his favorite cartoons. Seventy-two hours plus 24 more fever-free ones, and he can return to school. Thursday. Thursday....

Just kidding; it's all been fine. Fortunately, Scott was planning to take off Tuesday anyway (that's the day I work), so he and Seth hung out and did house stuff yesterday (mostly with Seth on the couch or resting in a chair outside). His fever was normal this morning, so he looks to be on the mend. All in all, I think he did better with the swine flu than he did with the regular flu a few years ago.

And he didn't even grow a pig snout! Heh.

Eight Years and Holding

"Your baby blues, so full of wonder
Your curly cues, your contagious smile
And as I watch, you start to grow up
All I can do is hold you tight
Knowing
Storms will rage and
Clouds will race in
But you will be safe
In my arms."

"In My Arms"
Plumb

Today is the 8th anniversary of the terrorist attack on our country. Tonight we all watched a compilation of videos shot in New York as the towers were attacked and felled. Even eight years hence, the fear was acute. It spread out from that TV and affected all of us. We want the kids to know that there is evil. We want them to know why we fight. And Scott and I remembered how we felt on that day.

We were in our rental house in Idaho. I woke up to the bright sunshine and the phone. "Turn on the TV," said Scott. "Planes flew into the World Trade Towers."

Seth was a tiny, 5 months old. I grabbed him, went to the living room and flipped on the TV. I don't know how long I sat, and really don't remember all the feelings I had right at that moment. I saw at least one, maybe both of the Towers come down. At the time, I was oblivious to how long it would take to evacuate a building of that size....really, I thought everyone was probably out. So as the tower crumbled, I thought, "There goes man's monument, crashing to the ground." There was no realization at the time that there were people trapped in there. It was Babel's Tower to me in that raw moment. Only later did I learn.

Zac couldn't understand any of it; he could barely talk at the time. So his beautiful, crystal morning continued while I watched and held my baby. I ran to get gas...I didn't know if we'd be able to get it later. I went to a shower that night for a friend. Her mother prayed, "Lord, we don't know what has happened, but we leave it in Your All-Capable Hands." The words stuck with me..."All Capable". I wanted to believe that, but it was hard.

The days that followed were eerie. We lived on one of the highest ridges or "benches", as the locals call them, on the south side of Boise proper. All flights came over our house, but the skies were silent for two weeks, as you all know. It felt like forever--missing those sounds. But I could stand out in the yard and watch the F-16s scream overhead (they really do scream) as they scrambled out of Gowen Field to our east. It was majestic and awe inspiring. I wondered if we would have to fight. I wondered if I would have to fight, for our very home. Now it seems silly, but we all know that then, it wasn't a crazy thought. None of us knew what was coming. But I decided, in those weeks, I would fight...to the death if I had to.

I wondered if my boys would go to war. How could this be solved quickly? This wasn't some country we could march in and defeat. It was nebulous and murky. There was no assurance the threat would ever go away.

So much has come and gone, and yet we live today, still free and prospering. Tonight I wondered if it was too much for the boys. "No," said Scott, "this is life. They need to know."

They do. But a child's loss of innocence, destroyed in chunks as the realities of our fallen world smashes against it, is still hard for a parent to watch. And I can't protect them completely. I can't keep them safe in my arms alone. But I am learning, slowly but steadily, He is. All-capable, all-sufficient. Above it all and utterly in control. I don't understand much at all and I doubt so often, but I cling to that hope for myself and my boys. Every day in good or bad. I hope they too will feel His arms underneath, holding them.