Things cook along here. Stefan was baptized about two weeks back, and did remarkably well (and Orthodox baptism is not short, there are a lot of prayers in with the action...) We are well, generally, and life is full. Stefko goes to sleep easier (he even nodded off one evening on the foot of our bed while we read Bible - I think he is beginning to trust). He wakes up later, too, which is a relief - especially since Ana has been sick recently, and sleep is scanty on her account.
Stefan is also developing preferences, and eating somewhat slower. Except when it's a favorite, like tuna salad, then he still shovels somewhat maniacally. But oatmeal? He goes about as slowly as the other boys now, and doesn't always finish. He seems to be emerging (a little) from the never-had-enough-food frenzy. No doubt it will be a long time before that's gone, but we're thankful for progress.
Chickens in the yard
Stefko helping with an oil change
Machinii need tools
Stefko likes tools.
Yesterday marked the 4th anniversary of my dad's death. In thinking of him, his kindness, and my own failures to love, I wrote the following:
Ernie
I was maybe ten,
and maybe so was he,
though his waist was far ahead
of his mind, which seemed stuck,
as I said, around ten.
With all the gall of youth
I found him ugly
and repugnant to the nose;
his clothes were often greasy,
for he loved McDonalds
with the sincerity of his blessed simple soul.
And TV. He loved that, too,
though I did not observe,
for I never ventured in to get him
or to drop him off.
That was my father's work,
to help him out with errands,
go to church,
a bite to eat,
and something for his mom.
He had a mother - did you know?
Of course he did.
And he had been a kid,
who just, it seems,
got stuck at maybe ten.
Thank you for your prayers.
In Christ,
Papa
