It's nearly one o'clock and by now two thunderstorms have rolled through. No doing laundry today. It wouldn't dry fast enough.

Jube threw up twice today and is now sleeping on a foam on the dining room floor. He was so tired the novelty of not sleeping in his own bed didn't even keep him awake.

Dru asked for cookies a while ago and I can't even make him any because my stove ran out of gas yesterday morning right in the middle of baking muffins for breakfast.

I should go do my dishes and clean my house while both babies sleep.

I read Esta's blog, found it by means of traveling about other people's blogs, and no, I don't know her personally. Anyway, she made me homesick for wilderness. Even if my Wisconsin wilderness isn't anything like her Canada wilderness.

Wilderness. My family is in the wilderness of Minnesota this week. Just being family. Vacation they call it. What is that?

A bit more randomness: How do I capture these moments? This little girl sleeping in my arms. Her sweetness? How do I hold on to it so it will never get away? Ever. The little boy "helping"in the kitchen. His Thai/English/babytalk? His beautiful hair. How can I freeze this moment in time so it will always be with me?

And how can I, even as I long to capture these moments, be looking forward to the grandchildren stage? The days when the children are grown and I can minister with my husband like I did the first year of marriage before they were here.

Subject change again: Dru and I seem to be on the verge of change again. I could be fearful, but I'm strangely peaceful about it all. So much uncertainty. Big decisions. Where will this take us? Yet it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because we're not alone. We have a church behind us in the States, who, when the money barely covers their own needs, let alone ours, they're still praying. Praying. I don't care how much money you give the missionaries, it's not going to answer questions like we're facing now. We are so thankful for prayers.

Furthermore, I used to worry about leaving Thailand, if we were ever called to do so--specifically, leaving Mae Wahn. But somehow, now that she's committed to Jesus, it would be okay if we had to move on. Not that it wouldn't be hard. Just okay. Ouch. Maybe. Right now it seems like it might be pretty hard. But somehow, still, there would be peace. I can't explain it.

The rain has stopped. Jube has scooted off of his mattress, and just now crawled back on. His eyes are closed again. The fan buzzes, birds scold. Havilah stretches. It's time to do dishes.

Goodbye.