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Being on a four-day vacation from my sister’s renovation is granting me space to contemplate the comings and goings in my own everyday life.

Last night, I helped my youngest son pack for an 8-week stint in southeast Asia.  Had I not insisted, the packing would have been put off to this evening — too late for my stress level as he leaves tomorrow.  Kyle is so hard to settle down; he always plays before he works.

Kyle’s view about work reminds me of Jesus’ view on “the poor”:  we will always have both, no matter what we do;  the poor and our work will always be waiting for our helping hand.  It strikes me that Kyle’s travels will place him at the intersection of work and the poor.   Writing  this thought leaves me unsettled, as Kyle’s leaving will create a gap in my everyday world.  And though it helps to remind myself that 8 weeks is not so terribly long, the ache in my chest isn’t  buying into the rationalization; my eyes tear up at the mere thought of his departure.

It helps that when one goes, another comes.  Around a couple of pizzas last night, my husband and I talked with Bryan and Amy about the new apartment they are hoping to land.  Pending approval of their leasing application, Bryan and Amy will be moving closer to us, just a little south of Mesta Park.  Like kids that can’t wait for Christmas, we all drove over to their new apartment last night, which is really not new at all.  The building dates back to the days of early statehood, when all apartment buildings carried their name proudly etched in stone above the entry.   This one is all fresh and renovated, just blocks from Bryan’s new job, making the location perfect.  And to the extent they want my help, I’ll be there to settle them in.

For now, my oldest and her husband live the most settled existence.   Their four children keep them grounded.  But if not for these, I think Kate and Glen would be jetting off hither and yon to see the world.  They both have an incurable case of the travel bug; when they aren’t traveling themselves, they travel vicariously by settling down in front of their television set to watch The Travel Channel.  Even their wedding was held on location.  I wish I could travel with such ease.

My youngest daughter Kara  — the one who lives just north of us  — surprised me with good news on Mother’s Day:  God willing, come next January, I’ll have five ‘grands’ instead off four.  You’re the first I’ve told, because I wished to give Kara time to tell her own good news.  But it feels so wonderful to finally share the good news, especially in the midst of the trail of words I’ve written about Daddy.

New life comes.  And it’s always unsettling.  And this new baby is a reminder that there is joy amidst sadness, and somehow, between all the comings and goings, we float on hope that everyday life will make perfect sense in the end.

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