Departure of the Parents

Yesterday morning my parents left, on their way to Saskatchewan for a class reunion. There's something morbidly appealing to me about this combination of the two least exciting things I can think of at this moment, but that's just me and it will not be discussed here.

It was a fun weekend. Toby showed off all his latest tricks for his grandparents, from dancing in circles to climbing sofas to passing olives through his digestive system virtually unscathed. We went to Victor's BBQ on Saturday, Plymouth Covenant Church on Sunday, and Mom pulled out the season finale of 24 for Monday night. I've only seen a few episodes, and almost all of them were better than that one.

Dan Johnson is the pastor of Plymouth Cov, and he was the pastor of the church I grew up in in Melfort, Saskatchewan. That he moved to Minnesota about two years after I did is either a pretty cool coincidence or mildly disturbing. He's a nice guy and a pretty good basketball player, so I'm going with the former. My mom and dad really enjoyed hearing him preach again. He's a feel-good kinda preacher, not the kind that tells you what you want to hear, but the kind that makes you feel like you actually can do better.

We skipped Solomon's Porch, sorry to all. It was too stupidly hot to feel like getting in the car again. Funny how you feel like once you've gone to one church in the morning, going again in the evening would be redundant, as if Plymouth Covenant Church and Solomon's Porch weren't as different as, let's say, quadratic equations and cheese. Lately it's hard for me not to slip into my cynical mode when I'm in another church. I find myself noticing how all the songs and a non-negligible percentage of the language is focused around me, my relationship with God, how God has a wonderful plan for my life. I've become accustomed more to talking about we, us, and how God has a plan, period, and amazingly enough we can be a part of it. Now if I could only find a church that, just once in a while, simply focuses on God.

Moving on. Summer school has started and Michelle is teaching evenings, two nights a week. Except this week another teacher is away and she's subbing for another two nights. So this was the third straight night that I put Toby to bed, which I love. I read him stories, tuck him in, whisper a prayer, then sit by his crib for a few minutes while he settles down. Then I slip out quietly. All is quiet.

Two minutes later is usually when he starts screaming.

I wait a few minutes, then go in and pick him up. He lays on my shoulder and calms down. Soon he's ready to go to sleep for real. I tuck him in again and watch him until his breathing slows. I love this. I didn't even like kids before Toby came, but now I love him more than I can conceive (no pun intended).

Now he's sleeping for real. Time to go write a blog entry.