Lauren was unloading the dishwasher and noticed it had done a less-than-stellar job getting all those pesky food bits off of the plates.

Sam: I ALWAYS rinse my plate all the way off before I put it in.

Me: Hmm.  Sometimes I do but sometimes I don't. It seems like the dishwasher should be able to handle a little food, though.

Sam: I always do.  I guess my standards of cleanliness are just higher than most people.

{widespread bursting of laughter throughout the kitchen}

Ring-ring!  Hello? Oh, Sam! It's your room. It's calling to BEG TO DIFFER on the standards of cleanliness.

But thank you for the laugh.

Over the summer we replaced our hardy old minivan Ruby (~200,000 miles!) with a brand new family mobile.  This was a long-awaited event and, as we cleared out the flotsam and jetsam from the trusty but stained Ruby, G extracted a promise from each of us:

No food in the new car.

The kids tried different techniques to test the paternal rule resolve.  They sneaked snacks aboard in their pockets, for one.  Oh, the folly of youth. These things are always discovered and woe!WOE! unto the child who sneakily munches in the back seat.  By their crumbs they are judged.

Eventually we all got used to the new reign of foodlessness and all was well.  We took 6-hour summer trips where water was the only allowed substance to touch our lips while inside the new vehicle.  If sometimes I brought a therapeutic can of Diet Coke into the car, I claimed parental exemption and crossed my fingers.

So imagine my horror when I got into the car recently and found that the gear shift between the two front seats was verrrry difficult to move.  It stuck and was almost impossible to shift into reverse or drive, especially first thing in the morning.  Like something had been spilled nearby.  I was pretty sure I hadn't spilled my soda. Had I? HAD I?!  Looking closer, I noticed several sticky spots on and around and in(!) the shifter.

I scrambled into the house to get something to wipe up the evidence.  

G: (casually) What are you doing? 

A: (slamming cupboards and rushing around) oh...I just noticed something needed to be wiped up in the car

G: (his interest piqued) Oh? What?

A: Um.  Well.  I just tried to shift the car into reverse and--I don't know how this happened--it seems like there's something spilled and sticky.

G: What?!

A: Yeah. I can't figure it out because we really haven't had anything in the car like that.

G: (Silence)

A: And it's REALLY sticky.  So, you know, I don't even think it would be...a drink...or anything.

G: Hmm.

A: (still getting towels and water)

G: So...it is sticky like honey?

A: Yeah! That's exactly what it's like.  I even tasted it and it's sweet. Why?

G: Hmm.

A: What?

G: I had a peanut butter and honey sandwich in the car.

A: (laughing) YOU did?

G: (meekly laughing) Yes...I didn't have time to eat before soccer practice so I grabbed a sandwich. 

A: (still laughing) Okay Mr. No Food in the Car!  A peanut butter and honey sandwich?!

And so it is that every morning when I get in the car, I wrestle the somewhat sticky gearshift into reverse and chuckle a little that it was G who was the first to usher the new car into "broken in" status.

. . .

Thankful for: my funny (+ honest!) G, the 10 a.m. schedule at church, great car conversations with my kids.

I was talking with a friend who has been undergoing treatment for cancer.  She commented that it's been hard to reconcile the polarity that everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. Everything--her perspective, her sense of herself, of security, the new focus on healing--has changed.  Yet she looks out her window and kids are still going to school, the seasons change as always, life goes on. Living with both realities, she said, is difficult but comforting.

She said it reminded her of "an old midrash [a rabbinic story...she's Jewish] about a sage who always kept two notes -- both quotes from scripture -- on his person...one in each of his coat pockets.  The first one reminded him that "the world was created for you" -- God set this glorious table of creation, all the wonders of the world, just for humans to experience and enjoy.  

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop and look fear in the face...do the thing you think you cannot do."

Last night, 7:30 p.m.