Wanted

I am dismayed to report that the kids have just finished dinner and they have not eaten a single vegetable today. Which wouldn't be AS shocking if they weren't vegan. (They did watch Veggie Tales today, but I don't think that counts). A more apt label for us this time of year would be "fruit-an" or "grainarian" or perhaps, "pastafarian," because we eat plenty of that. But not even so much as a baby carrot this day. They each had a banana for breakfast, split an enormous mango at lunch, an apple for a snack and a pear at dinner. I cut off the ends and give Helena the core to gnaw on, an experience she heartily enjoys. We had a little something called "lunch for dinner" tonight which basically means I couldn't think of anything to make so I used a really excited voice and we had almond butter sandwiches and I pretended it's a big treat and not just something we eat for lunch approximately 6 days a week.

We took two long walks today because the weather is sublime. Hudson rode his bike and I pulled the girls in the wagon. Sasha did not join us because she has a special gift for entangling her leash in everything, thus making walks involving wheels a special torture for her and me.

I went to Anthropologie yesterday and got two shirts and what may be the most comfortable pair of pants I have ever owned that aren't pajama pants. I have written before about my conflicted relationship with Anthropologie. Which explains why I ended up back there today to return one of the shirts. I just didn't like it as much as I needed to in order to justify the expense. Anyway, just down from Anthropologie an animal rescue organization was having an adoption weekend. I didn't want to go in, then I caught a glimpse of some puppies and I couldn't help myself. I was walking around reading each dog's story (this particular rescue group gets dogs and cats from shelters, then fosters them before finding permanent homes for them) and yes, I did start crying. And then this one dog made eye contact with me. He did. Sustained eye contact, and he told me with his beautiful brown eyes that he had heard about Sasha and he thought we probably had room for another dog at our house. And so I left. And then I got in the car and listened to one of Robbie Seay's new songs called "Kingdom and a King" and I cried some more and I could not stop thinking about those dogs. And then I started crying about foster kids. And orphans. And heaven. And how the Bible doesn't give us many details about it. And how theologians have supposed that perhaps it's because if we knew too much about the glory that awaits, that we, upon conversion, would do something drastic to get there before we were finished with what we are supposed to do here. So there is not much about heaven I am willing to be sure about. But of this I feel certain:

There will be no strays.

No stray dogs. No stray kids. No Father MacKenzie darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there. None forgotten or abandoned or neglected. We will belong. We will belong. For eternity. Just think of it. Until then we are Orphan Annie, clinging to our stray dog and singing "Maybe" in the window, dreaming about what it is going to be like when we are finally home.