Sunday, October 10, 2010

To Our Children

NOTE: No, I am NOT pregnant. So quit squealing and read on (mmm hmmm, Mom).

Dearest Little Bit,

It's been just over three years since we first learned of your existence, and it is just short of three years since we learned that meeting you in person was not to be. How hard that was! How we grieved. We miss you still, but this year for the month of October--Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month--the grief is less sharp and our joy is less shaky. It would have been so amazing to see your chubby arms and legs, to play with your wee toes and fingers, even to fumble through clouds of exhaustion to change your diapers. I don't think we realized just how much we had lost until your sibling came along. The first Christmas that we hung your ornament on the tree, our arms were still so empty and aching. Yet it was a different type of ache when we looked at little Annabel and hung your tiny ornament from the tree two years later. Realizing what we had lost, that you should have been hovering over your baby sister, showing her the shiny tree that We Do Not Touch.

I think the Christmas before we had felt an unspoken guilt over our excitement at your sibling growing in my belly, the way you never could. Perhaps this year at Christmas we will feel yet another emotion as we watch Annabel's distinct personality continue to emerge. An awareness that Annabel is, and never could be, your replacement, but rather that she could have been a complement to you. It's that "could have been" that still stings--the cry of our hearts that things aren't the way that they're supposed to be, that primal realization that all is not right with the world.

Yet what precious joy you did bring us for those couple of months and what precious grace we received from those around us after we lost you. (Thank you, dear friends, for carrying us in prayer and tangibly helping us during that time!) I still marvel at how having to learn to let you go has made me a better mother for your sister as I strive daily to trust her to God's care. And what bittersweet joy I have found in being able to step through that place of continual healing to minister to others as the consequences of a fallen world wreak havoc on us all. Is it blasphemy or merely desperation to thank God that at least you were spared all that? Perhaps both... yet God is big enough to handle it all.

So on the 15th, we'll light a candle for you. Are you swinging on heaven's gates? Perhaps. Maybe you are just resting, waiting with all the saints for the triumphant return of Christ. Either way, we send our love to you and thank God for your precious little life.

Love, Mommy & Daddy


Dearest Annabel,

How you melt our hearts with all the sweet things you do! How much you crack us up at your antics--even the ones that showcase just how sinful man can be. What joy we've had over the past 16 months (Happy Birthday, darling) of getting to know you more. We ask God's blessings over your little life and are breathless with gratitude for your presence in our lives. Rest well, sweetheart--you have a full day tomorrow of playing and eating and testing our patience and melting our hearts all over again.

Love,
Mommoo and Daddoo


Precious Future Children,

Some of you are probably still that proverbial "twinkle in the eye," so we pray for God's providence in bringing you into our lives eventually. Perhaps some of you are already born, or will be born not with us, and adoption paperwork will bring you to us. If so, we pray now for your protection, your guidance, your childlike awareness of a good God. For all of you, we pray that God will continue to grow us in our parenting skills (poor guinea pig Annabel!) that we might be better equipped to help you grow and to soothe hurts and bring about healing where needed.

Perhaps you will come to us broken by the world, or with poor health, or perhaps, like wee Little Bit, we will know you for only a short time. We pray that will not be the case with any of you. Regardless, we ask God's blessing over your souls--that he has known since before the foundation of time--and rejoice to know that he loves you more than we ever could. And we believe in him for your lives and growth, and ask him to help our unbelief. So get ready, wee ones. You are going to have some kooky parents that love you wholeheartedly.

Much love,
Mom & Dad


And a note to the Father--thank you for making us your children, your heirs. Grant us the patience and the grace to show your love to our children and to point the way to you. And... thank you for the couple of hours each night between Annabel's bedtime and ours! It is awfully nice to talk as adults and not be preoccupied with what she's sticking in her mouth, what she's doing to the cat or what we can do to not go insane reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear for the millionth time...

Gratefully,
Two of Your Children

Monday, September 27, 2010

To Our New Home State

Dear Mississippi,

Well, here we are, two months later. It's been a blur since we first saw that "WELCOME TO MISSISSIPPI" sign and realized that it was welcoming us as residents, not visitors. But I have to say that I really do like you, Mississippi, and I'm glad we're here. If it couldn't be Atlanta, GA, I'm glad it's you.

Love,
Those Crazy Yankees in Clinton


Dear Michael,

I love that you were our unofficial welcoming committee. I love that you came up with the abandon of a 10 year-old to tell us that you used to live here and that Jayden, who lives next door, is your best friend 'cause you've known each other "like forever." I love that you are white and Jayden is black and that's not an issue. I kept hearing about the brutal past of Mississippi--and I know it's true--but as you grow and learn about yourself and your state, I hope you see just how awesome your friendship is. How important and right it is, and how much it means to see two little boys judging each other not by the "color of their skin but by the content of their character" and pronouncing the other to be friend and brother. Love love love it. So come over and play in our yard anytime. Come visit and say hello to Annabel. And thanks for welcoming us in so many ways.

Love,
Those folks with the cute baby that live in your old house which is really different now, gosh, it's really nice and did you know about riding bikes and selling cookie dough and...


Dear Toni,

So you read my first post, eh? Hee hee hee--that's a reminder and a reality check that this thing is actually available to the world via the interwebs (and not just in my head). So I'm glad I told the truth in that first post, which is that Pentimento rocks and is a great "third place." You asked me how we're doing--that now we've been here awhile, what hasn't lived up to expectations, where is the bloom off the rose? Honestly, nowhere. (Except perhaps the worst of the summer weather.) We've been welcomed by and plugged into this community so much already and we love it. So thanks for asking, which is just proof of how great this place is. See you next week!

Much love,
The Bibliophiles in Huntcliff


Dear Redeemer Presbyterian,

Home. We're home. A vibrant, multi-ethnic community that has welcomed us with open arms. Amazing preaching. Unbelievable music. Great nursery. There is one problem, though. I tend to idolize churches. It's a bad habit of mine. So if you could not be quite so awesome, that would be great. No? Dang. Okay, then. God's grace is big enough to help me stay focused on him.

Thanks be to God,
Right side, 10th row back (we're creatures of habit)


Dear Walker's Drive-In, Sal & Mookie's, The Pizza Shack, Julep, etc.,

Yum yum yum. I see that it won't be much easier here to stay on budget with eating out. So much goodness for the taking. We look forward to discovering more local delights!

Thanks,
The couple who tips well because their cute baby throws food all over the floor.


Dear The Orange Peel,

Oh, consignment store goodness. I love my new dress--I feel so Julia Roberts at the racetrack in Pretty Woman in it. I think I need a matching hat. Perhaps next time I come in? And the name, I love the store name. Fondren is such a cool section of town. Thanks for being there.

Whoo hoo!
Ch


Dear Mississippi College, Jackson State, University Medical Center, etc.,

Well, here I am. Send me your poor, your tired, your over-educated masses. I'm ready to serve!

Thank you,
Chandra Crane
Campus Staff, Graduate & Faculty Ministries
InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA
Associate Staff, Christian Legal Society
Jackson Metro Area


Dear Dr. Crane,

Well, here we are. Big, roomy, clean apartment. A little more money to spare. Time to spend with each other. We've come a long way in the past couple of months, eh? How God has provided for us since I last wrote. Thanks for bringing us here. We love you and it's so so true that Home Is Where the Heart Is.

Love Always,
Chandra and your Borgleboo
Clinton, Mississippi (who knew?)


Tuesday, June 29, 2010

To the Bels

Dearest Annabel,

I meant to write you while I was pregnant, but I was too busy talking to my belly and sleeping a lot. I meant to write you while you were a newborn, but I was too busy realizing I was in over my head and not sleeping much at all. I meant to write you on your 6 month birthday, but got distracted playing airplane with you. I meant to write you on your first birthday, but things were too nuts with your Daddoo's PhD and your birthday party.

So, I figure--heck, why not? I'll write you on your 12 month, 2 week, 5 day birthday. I did manage to peg the time, anyway. 9:41 pm--not something I'll ever forget, although the hours following sure were a blur!

So what do I want to say to my sweet daughter who is so adorable that you give me an ice cream headache of cuteness? My thoughts drift to your (long) upcoming teenage years... blergh. I have high hopes that we will have a good relationship, but I realize there are times you won't like your parents (and me especially!) very much. You'll be fairly sure that we're idiots and are only out to ruin your fun. When that happens, I hope a part of your hormone-riddled brain can process some important things:

1. We do love you, but we are idiots. It's true. You thought I was going to say that we're not idiots? It's only God's grace that helps us to parent you. However, we are less of idiots than you are, since we've seen more of life and made more mistakes. So we get to be in charge. Sorry. If you really can't stand us, maybe there's some other nice family out there who will take you in until you're 18?

2. Sarcasm can indeed be a love language. It's also a coping mechanism. It can also be a bit much... and it's a fine line between funny and harsh. Sorry. If you really can't stand the lovingly sarcastic environment, may I suggest that you watch an episode of "Leave It to Beaver?"

3. About us being out to ruin your fun--actually, we are. It's payback for the sleepless nights, the poo-splosions, no longer having a life, the drain on our finances and the unholy amount of soggy Cheerios I've had to pick up off the floor. Sorry. If it really makes you mad, hold out for when we get old and you can get your own payback by putting us in a low-rent nursing home.

4. For all that we can be no-fun, lame duck parents, I hope you've had some fun over the years. I see these years, where a funny face is all that it takes to crack you up, slipping away all-too-quickly and am both afraid and looking forward to the challenge of finding new ways to make you smile (after I've made you cry with my responsible disciplinary measures). I know we've said "no" a lot--perhaps more than we've said "yes." Sorry. If you can just hold on, soon you'll be all grown up and we can all have fun again squabbling over how you never call and we send noisy toys to the grandkids.

Hang on a second--there's sarcasm dripping down the computer screen and I need to clean it up. I'll be right back.

Okay, sweet Annabel--borgleboo, child of mine, preciousness, monkeybuns (and all the other ridiculous things I call you)--as it says in your Sandra Boynton book:

I love you and love you.

And love you and love you.

And love you and love you.

No matter how sarcastic I get, how hectic life is, or how aggravated you are with me, never doubt that.
Love,
Your Mommoo

Friday, May 28, 2010

To a my Newest Westside Find

Dear Hankook Taqueria,

Well, now you've gone and done it. You've joined the ranks of Octane and Gato Bizco by being so delicious and fantastic that my head exploded. The Bulgogi taco... the sesame fries... the bibimbop...!

Why is this a problem, you ask? Well, sweet hole-in-the wall purveyor of Korean-fusion goodness, thanks to you, I'm going to have to stage a protest--a "live-in," if you will. I'm going to chain myself to a tree in Piedmont Park, and I AM NOT LEAVING. I will stay here in Atlanta, chained to that tree, so that I may enjoy your culinary offerings whenever I...

Crap. There appears to be a flaw in my plan. Namely, the whole "chained to a tree" part. Hm...

I've got it! Take two:

I'm going to chain myself to a tree on wheels (bwa ha!) And I AM NOT LEAVING. Yes, yes, that should solve the problem. Excellent. Rain or shine! In the most humid of summers and bitterest of winters, I will stay here in this city I love. No matter the weather...

Dang. There's still the whole "living under a tree" aspect. Hmm...

Are you interested in expanding your new empire and opening a location in Clinton, MS?

Love and Kimchee,
Me and my stomach.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

To My Coworker

Dear Future Staff at Emory,

(Whoever you are)

My loss is your gain, friend. I am so excited for you to receive this--is it too cocky to say?--inheritance of the fruit of my labor over the past 5+ years. I wish I could pass on all of the students and faculty I've had the privilege of working with, but many of them have gone on to bigger and better things. It's funny to realize that they don't all know each other, except through me. I often forget that some of them haven't overlapped with each other in their time at Emory--it just feels like one big family, to me.

It is my family, which is why it's hard to leave. These faculty and students are my co-laborers in seeing God's kingdom come (on earth as it is in heaven), as well as my accomplices in crime. We've prayed, eaten, laughed, studied, wept, eaten some more, and shared life with each other, and that leaves a mark that doesn't fade away. You are inheriting some great people.

So, fellow staff worker, as much as it will hurt (and perhaps be slightly weird) to think of things continuing after my departure, that is, of course, what I am praying and hoping for--and I expect a full report each year at our national staff conference. I want to rejoice with you about what spiritual breakthrough that such-and-such has had. I want to laugh uproariously about what you-know-who said. I want to weep with you--as I have wept with them--over the heartache in their lives and wait expectantly with you to see God's redemption. I want the bittersweet joy of hearing great things about the GFM work at Emory that I am not there to take part in.

These are my sheep, fellow staff worker, and so my first instinct is to say that you had better take good care of them (or else!). But I realize that attitude doesn't allow room for you to love and shepherd them as I have. That attitude doesn't let go of them, as I must; nor does it allow you to take on the primary role of staff worker/shepherd in their lives. I must not try to lead them by proxy through you. It's your turn now, to learn all about them, to become fiercely loyal to and protective of them.

It's also time for me to be reminded that things will look very different under your leadership. I have to remember that your care for these students and faculty will most likely not be as gregarious as mine, and that not only is that "okay," it's the way it should be. You have things to offer them that I don't, so I am grateful for them to receive those gifts and guidance from you.

I will throw a few tidbits of advice your way--take 'em or leave 'em:

1. Food, food & more food. But I think that goes without saying. I apologize for getting them spoiled to expect munchies!

2. You don't have to do your "office hours" at Octane in the Village... but please don't stoop to doing Starbucks. Blegth!

3. You can't avoid these topics during discussions: politics, evolution, vaccines, women in combat. But you can be prepared for some entertaining fireworks.

4. Did I mention food?

and finally,

5. Take the students and faculty up on their offers to help--not just with the campus work, but in life. They are a good bunch, and they love to serve.

Enjoy this wonderful, zany, unpredictable, fabulous group. Welcome to the family.

Much love,
Chandra Crane
(for now) Campus Staff Member, Emory University
Chapter Planting Cohort v. 2.0
bringer of snacks and the Word


Saturday, March 27, 2010

To Our Home... for now

Dear Atlanta,

We are going to miss you. Bwagh! It is going to be hard to leave. But we are determined to enjoy the time we have left here, and wanted to let our friends know what we've got going on in the coming months, both for purposes of prayer, as well as planning:

Mid-may: Chandra finishes the semester at Emory and prepares to set up for summer and then leave in June.

Late May or early June: Kennan finishes writing his dissertation and defends his PhD

June 12th: Annabel's First Birthday Party! More details to come.

Late June: we move to Clinton, MS

August 7th: we'll be back in town as Kennan walks at GT Graduation and we'll be having a party to celebrate that evening at (where else?) Octane Coffee

Okay, Atlanta. We've got just a few months left, but we know you won't disappoint. Bring it on!

Much love,
Those Crazy Cranes in Midtown
Ch, Kennan & AnNaBeL

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

To Our Coaches

Dear Coach Hewitt,

I have to agree with the new Coke Zero (should I put a TM or somesuch in here so I don't get sued? Probably.) ads that proclaim "nothing but taste." Indeed, sir. You are a classy man. I'm sorry that we're such slacker fans--it's not that we don't love you or college basketball; it's that football is easier to keep track of due to the more consistent schedule (and fewer games overall). So we're not fairweather fans, just lazy ones.

Well, good luck at the Big Dance! We believe in you.

Love,
a Yellow Jacket family whose wee daughter is dressed in White & Gold


Dear Coach Johnson,

What do you mean it's not football season yet? Could you work on that? Oh, and can you bless our baby? Hat-tip to Sam for the priceless video. If only we were so cool.

We're excited for the upcoming season, when we will be coming back into town from MS on many a Saturday. And this, dear Coach, this is the year when we break the bowl game curse. We believe in you!

Love,
a Yellow Jacket family whose wee daughter cheers the Brave & Bold (or improves the ratio, either way!)


Sunday, February 28, 2010

To Clinton, Mississippi

Dear Clinton,

I'm sorry I dismissed you, in high urban snobbery, as being a suburb that we didn't want to live in. I'm sorry I thought Vicksburg, in all its urban chic, would be the place we'd want to live. (It isn't, and we don't.) Turns out Vicksburg is neither the bustling metropolis I had hoped for (ha!) nor is it even a comfortable suburb with all the amenities, but rather an aged woman snoozing on a front porch in widow's weeds while the floorboards decay around her.

Ah, yes--drama. Nothing like a day inside the car to increase my sense of hyperbole. But, I digress.

So, Clinton--I understand now why most of the lab folks like to call you home. Spookily enough, someone took our hometown, cloned it, doubled its size, and then plopped it down in Mississippi... and there you are. Possibly our future home for quite awhile. So it's time to roll up our sleeves, grab a rake & hoe, and get back to our roots.


Dear Clinton Visitor's Center,

What a first impression! You had friendly volunteers, fun crafts, interesting displays and local folks pickin' & grinnin' at one of the Olde Time Music Jam Sessions--bluegrass as it's meant to be! It will be hard to leave our home here in Atlanta, but if we move to Clinton, I know we can make a new home here.


Dear Clinton School District,

You group all your schools by age, not location--just like our hometown. I love that. I love that the kids are together all through their elementary and secondary years, and especially that there isn't a poor school on the other side of the tracks across from the rich school. Which all-too-often translates into a black school and a white school, when all's said and done. I love knowing that Annabel's classmates would come from a variety of backgrounds, ethnicities, socio-economic status, educational backgrounds, etc. (It may be too much to hope for more variety of political leanings, but we'll see.) Not utopia, and there are certainly cliques, but it's a great start.

And the High School colors are red, black & white? They're not the Rams (rather, the Arrows, so I'm curious what the mascot looks like!), but it's still a wild coincidence...


Dear cups (an espresso cafe'),

Hallelujah! There's hope! You're a chain, and your espresso machines are set to automatic, much to Kennan's disappointment. BUT--you well understand that THERE IS NO X IN ESPRESSO and I'll forgive your whipped cream cans for the fact that you do have high chairs (and I'm guessing, though I didn't check, a changing table in the bathroom). Even the best coffee shop in the world--still always first in our hearts--doesn't have that. Ahem.

So I could spend many a day enjoying your free wifi and quirky atmosphere. Meanwhile, Kennan has informed me that he's going to ask the baristas at Octane to teach him their ways... which will require, at some point, the purchase of an espresso machine that is not set to automatic. I've told him that is fine as long as I get my digital SLR and time with Kate & Bobbi Jo to learn the secrets of their ways. But I apologize for putting an innocent coffee shop in the middle of friendly marital negotiations.

We'll be back, little coffee shop! I hope you have frequent customer cards.


Dear Pentimento,

Fabulous! I love used book stores, and am quite enjoying my Greg Bear find, thank you. I love the story behind your name, the framed quotes scattered about the place, the squooshy arm chairs, and even the eerie cat curled up on one of those arm chairs (I suspected taxidermy, but was too afraid to ask).

Nice Owner Lady, it was so great to meet you and talk about books and churches and babies and art and towns (large & small) and all sorts of other good things. Thank you for your friendly manner and interest. And thank you for being yet another awesome example of racial reconciliation as it is clear that your cross-cultural friendship with the Nice Lady from Chicago is both real and deep. I hope I get to see you again soon and buy more books that I don't quite need!


Dear Newk's Express Cafe,

You're a fun little chain. Your chicken gumbo was fabulous, I thoroughly enjoyed the shrimp po'boy, and maybe someday I'll get up the nerve to order the pimento cheese sandwich. Maybe.


Dear Mississippi College,

You look nice. I hope I get to meet students and faculty on your hallowed grounds and really dig into their lives and be a help to them, even if just volunteering a few hours a week. I am impressed that although your sign proudly proclaims that you are "STILL UNDER BAPTIST CONTROL," you were the first co-ed college in America to grant degrees to women. "STILL UNDER BAPTIST CONTROL," really? That cracks me up. Back to our roots, indeed.


Dear Lily's Asian Emporium,

Awesome. If we move to Clinton, it's nice to know that we can still get our fish sauce and curry paste. And the fact that your Nice Owner Lady was born and raised in the Hunan Province, relocated to Clinton (culture shock!), then went to Singapore but decided to move back, says something about Clinton as a community.


Dear Dave Ramsey,

Yes, you were in Clinton, MS. You followed us there. And although you can be harsh and I don't necessarily agree with your political leanings (nor some of your theology), I do see that we don't need to run out and buy a house just because Kennan will finally have the decent salary he deserves. We will save up for a good down payment, dagnabbity. But the apartment complexes in Clinton have tested my resolve for sure. I guess the college students don't mind a little funk and there just aren't enough young professionals to warrant a higher level of apartments. Sigh.

Well, God will provide something that Annabel can crawl around in without being attacked by bugs or rodents too much and hopefully we'll get to know our neighbors.


Dear Kennan Crane,

You were in Clinton, MS, and thus Annabel and I were, too. We love you, and we're proud of you, and since home is where the heart is, we'll make a home with you wherever we end up!

I still want my digital SLR out of your first paycheck.


Love,
(the future) Mrs. Dr. Kennan Crane

Friday, February 26, 2010

To Vicksburg, Mississippi

(I know it's been literally years since I last wrote. But if we move to Vicksburg, I may have a heck of a lot more time on my hands to blog. Although not as much to blog about...)


Dear Burger Village,

Fabulous. So fun to see all the pictures with famous folks such as Frankie Valli and LL Cool J. The burger was indeed delicious and seeing a sweet old black man working alongside a young white woman does my heart good and gives me hope for race relations in this area. Maybe my (mixed couple) parents can come visit here without (too many) stares.

And as the kid at the counter said, $4.90 for a cheeseburger and fries is ridiculously cheap. Thank you, Burger Village--I'm glad you were my first impression of Vicksburg!


Dear Fredericks,

What a crazy small world. Seriously, Nice Owner Lady, your cousin owns George's in the Highlands? How fun is that. Thanks for appreciating Annabel's cuteness. When she is old enough to need shoes, if we're living here, we will indeed be back to shop your store. Although I know that seeing you will make me homesick for the ViHi area, at least for awhile. (sigh) And I doubt I'll ever be Southern enough to purchase a camo pillow dress! "Great for baby showers" indeed.


Dear Cinnamon Tree,

Well, I've found my Swoozies. I mean, you've got it all--Vera Bradley, Trumpette, even MudPie (not that I can really afford any of it...). Fun stuff. And THE BUNNY SLIPPERS. Oh, the Bunny Slippers. If we live here when Annabel's feet get big enough, we are soooo stocking up. And if a tragic accident ever happens to my feet and shrinks them to child's size 10/12, ohhhhh my. What a happy day that will be. Your 50% off selection rocks, and Annabel loves her new book. Maybe I can do Southern Preppy, after all. Katherine will be proud.


Dear Highway 61 Coffeehouse,

I know, I know--I'm a big city snob. I would have sneered at me, too, had the situation been reversed. I'm just in pre-emptory mourning for Octane, that's all. I had such high hopes for you when I saw the Batdorf & Bronson and Dancing Goats coffee signs. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the grinder and I got positively in a tizzy when I heard the classic CLACK CLACK CLACK that has often lulled Annabel to sleep. But then I asked about french pressed coffee and you asked me about whipped cream, and it all went down hill from there.

I know we won't find anything of Octane's caliber no matter where we end up, but COME ON. THERE IS NO X IN ESPRESSO! The words "french" and "press" put together shouldn't confuse you (I had mercy and didn't even inquire about Chemex). And what did you put in my mocha (sans whip) that made you call your coworker over to see before you handed it to me with an evil smile? I probably don't want to know.

Alright, this city slicker is headed back to Atlanta soon. But I might be back. And this time, I'll keep my mouth shut... but keep an eye out while you make my coffee, just in case.


Dear Biedenharn Candy Company and Museum of Coca Cola Memorabilia,

Well, the Coke Museum in Atlanta you are not. But at $3 for admission, as opposed to the exorbitant rates at the Coke Museum, hey--I'll take it! Oh, and thanks for letting me know NOT TO GO PAST THE COUNTERS UNTIL I'VE PAID ADMISSION. I might have missed the 15 signs. Southern Hospitality meets Capitalist Necessity.


Dear Salvation Army Thrift Store of Vicksburg,

Tragic. I think if we move here, my thrift store days are over. I mean, of course you're not as fabulous as Nearly New or even the SA Thrift Store near Tech. But dark and dingy are just not working for you. Neither are quiet and grumpy. At least I got to drop off the giveaway crap that's been in our trunk for quite awhile now! The patron saint of getting lost still appears to be with me.


Dear Emory University (Vicksburg campus) and ChristChurch Vicksburg,

Crap. Nevermind.


Okay, Vicksburg. It's been interesting. Your historic downtown reminds me of Galveston, but the rest of you reminds me of Clovis, NM (sadly, minus Joe's Boot Shop). Soooo... we'll see what God does. I trust in his providence for our family and hope that Kennan's interview went well today.

EDIT: I forgot to sign off! So...

Love,
The Snobby City Slicker in the beat up Toyota Corolla