The God of Missing Purses

Nana and Grandpa came to DC for a conservative voters conference and Jen and Jon took the opportunity to bring Kate down for her first trip to DC. While waiting for them in the lobby of the DC Hilton, it was clear that Kate needed to be fed. Everyone tried to back into a corner and melt into the background, shielded by a stroller, receiving blanket, and a large potted plant. It was an uncomfortable experience for all involved. But if you're going to have to breastfeed in the lobby of a four-star hotel, at least you can do it where there are several hundred social conservatives around who tend not to frown on that sort of thing. After a half-hour, Nana and Grandpa arrived. There were hugs, kisses and rapid stowage of paraphernalia. A few minutes later, we all traipsed up to the hotel room to relax for an hour before Nana and Grandpa had to leave for a swanky dinner. It was a great chance for Kate to catch up with Nana and Grandpa.

When we were getting ready to head home, we made the gut wrenching discovery that Jen's purse was missing. Frantic searches of the hotel room, diaper bag, and stroller were unsuccessful. We returned to the hotel lobby and found nothing. The front desk and hotel security hadn't seen anything. We ran back to the parking garage to check in the car and with the parking attendant. Still nothing. Since Jen had taken out her purse to pay for parking, we knew it had come to DC with us, but it had been nearly three hours since we'd last seen it. The obvious conclusion was that it had been left somewhere and then taken by someone. By then it was also time to feed Kate again, so we went back up to the Minnery's hotel room. As we ran down the list of items in her purse they included credit & debit cards, all three social security numbers (including Kate's unsigned social security card), Jen's military ID and diver's license, several gift cards and a number of other mementos. Jen fed Kate while I began a flurry of phone calls to credit card companies, banks, and credit bureaus. Eventually, there was nothing else to do. Kate was full, but very cranky. I'd called every relevant agency we could thing of, and neither of us had eaten dinner. We all piled in the car and begin the drive back to Herndon.

On the way home we remember a story our pastor told a few weeks ago about when he'd been driving around with his family one day, unable to find a parking space at the mall. They stopped to pray to the "God of all parking spaces" that He would open something up for them. As expected, we all laughed. He then challenged us to remember that we should be in constant communion with God and not be afraid to ask for little things as well as big things. He then told us how they prayed that God would show His glory by finding them a parking space. He further promised that whenever they told the story, the would give Him the glory for this seemingly little, but undeniable demonstration of His power. Sure enough, a car backed out right in front of them, and our pastor has been zealously sharing the story ever since.

Now Jen and I had been praying already, but this time we prayed in earnest that the situation was beyond our control and that we too would give God the glory if he would somehow reunite us with Jen's purse. On the way home we drove through McDonald's, hoping that maybe we would get some winning game pieces in the Monopoly game. No such luck. They even forgot to include the pieces with Jon's dinner. A few minutes later, Jen anxiously gazed at our front porch as we pulled into the drive way, hoping that perhaps someone had been kind enough (or guilty enough) to drop it off. Again, no such luck.

Heading upstairs I noticed our voicemail light was blinking. Caller ID listed the the DC Hilton. It was the hotel concierge. She had Jen's purse from almost the moment we left it! She hadn't told the front desk or hotel security because she thought it would be safer to try and contact us directly. She ended up having to get our number from information since it wasn't anywhere in Jen's purse. I immediately left on the hour-long trek back to DC while Jen (you guessed it) started to feed Kate again. When I finally got to the hotel, I thanked the concierge for being an answer to prayer. I think we walked by her desk a half-a-dozen times looking for the purse that she'd had all along. So praise the God of missing purses! He answered our prayer in a small (ok at least medium) sized situation that seemed hopeless, and we give Him the glory for it.

Saving the day

Have I mentioned lately how fabulously multi-talented my husband is? By day he's a Ph.D working with radar, by night he's a plumber. Our kitchen faucet has been leaking and the parents noticed it when they were here during the birthday weekend. So we jerry-rigged a small tupperware bowl and a cafeteria tray under the sink to catch the drips. Well, the temporary fix just didn't work. Now, what does Jon do? Does he succumb to the temptation to call a plumber? Of course not! He hops on the internet, finds the faucet schematics, pulls that bad boy apart and, with engineer-preciseness, finds the problem. His handy-dandy sidekicks run to the plumbing parts store, pick up what our hero needs and Voila! Triumph! Seriously, you should see how many parts there are to this faucet--I think it requires at least a Ph.D to put it back together correctly. Hurray--the kitchen faucet works again and the sidekick doesn't have to wash dishes in the bathroom!

But does our hero stop with the success of one vanquished faucet? Oh no! He charges up the stairs, pulls apart this bathroom drain we've always had problems with, uses the parts his sidekick hands him and yet again, Voila! It's fixed!

The Air Force better be careful--if Jon gets tired of radar, he can always fall back on his new-found night job.

What is that?

I love this picture of Jon and his woolly-worm. Actually, I had never heard of woolly-worms until we moved to Ohio. And now, in Virginia, I've seen a blonde one! Have you ever seen a blonde woolly-worm? In my limited understanding, I thought they were dark, like overgrown eyebrows. Hmmm--is it that obvious I was raised in the West? At least I can look out at the Blue Ridge and call them mountains instead of hills. That's a start.

Gram is the Greatest!

What a great week we had visiting with Gram Luminati. It was wonderful to have her here--her servant's heart and desire to be helpful permeates everything she does. She even emptied the Diaper Champ more than once! And Sunday afternoon while Jon and I prepared to go on a date, I caught her mopping the kitchen floor. And boy, was it nice not to have to make my bed for a whole week! Alas, those fun days are over and Kate and I are learning to deal with our own conversation again. Gram always has a song or a story to tell to her granddaughter and boy does Kate love listening to her. Both enjoyed baths, naps, diaper changes, and even a trip to the Shenandoahs. (Side note--feeding a newborn while sitting on a picnic blanket, trying to keep covered up while shooing away the bugs is NOT recommended.) But what a great week we had and we are so thankful for all Gram's great meals, babysitting, cleaning, and just being the joyful person she is. Next time, bring Pops and the visit will be perfect!

The Family Room

One would think that "getting Kate successfully to church" means physically being there on time, carrying an extra clean diaper just in case. However, one must take into consideration the feeding issue. And my sister Beth put it well recently when she stated, "Gosh, breastfeeding certainly seems to take over your life." Well, it's true--at least for now!

So we thought we found the solution for this dilemma--physically feeding Kate and spiritually feeding Jen--by using the family room that's off the main sanctuary. Great idea! We got there early last Sunday and were the first ones in the room. It was pretty big, dark and cool, had a great view of the sanctuary, and had semi-comfortable chairs. Alright! The chairs were squashed together in close rows, but no big deal--we were the first ones there and had our pick of seats. We sat down, I arranged the diaper bag (which is the traveling Boppy) and off Kate went. We settled down to hear the sermon.

Fast forward twenty-five minutes. Almost EVERY seat is full. Children of every age are roaming to and fro. Babies are squalling. Adults are talking. Someone is adjusting the volume of the sermon in the room so it's VERY loud. (Jon turns it back down.) The child in front of us tries to take the receiving blanket off of Kate (while I'm feeding her)--it's a game. We say (gently) no, no, don't do that. Mom turns around and says "No--don't do that." Five minutes later she tries to do it again. And again. The cachophony throws us into sensory overload. Even Kate, who is a great eater (when she's awake) is tossing and turning and fretting from the clamor. Jon and I keep looking at each other praying LET US OUT OF THIS MADHOUSE. But of course, we are squashed right next to the wall with two other families and a host of baby paraphernalia between us and the exit.

Thankfully, someone comes in and tells the whole room "We have a new family who needs to be able to see the sign language interpreter." We jump up with the chance to offer our seats (though we're in the fifth or sixth row.) We climb over children, parents, blankets, car seats, strollers and chairs to the exit row, lunge for the door and...AHHHHHHHH. The calmness of being outside the family room. Two nice ushers find us empty seats in the sanctuary (oddly enough) right in front of the family room window. Kate has had enough food so she's hanging out contentedly in her seat. Someone is banging on the family room window behind us, a constant reminder of the craziness we left behind and we think Thank you Lord, for getting us out of that place.