Right now, life is happening more quickly than I could possibly write about it.
For example, we went camping on Tuesday and only came back yesterday in time for Fritz's appointment. Some amusing things happened, as always, but I just don't have time to write about them. We visited the Luray Caverns, the kids went fishing with Dad, we loved seeing the mountain view every day. It was nice.
Oh, this one I have to remember:
It was Wednesday morning. I got up, brewed the coffee (electric coffee pot, I admit) and lit a fire. I had bacon sizzling and eggs scrambling. I was pretty proud of my acomplishments. I could hear Bill getting up, putting on his clothes. I thought he'd be impressed at what his suburbanite, soccer-mom wife had managed to do in a half hour. He came out of the tent, looked at the scene of domestic outdoor bliss unfolding before his eyes and said,
"You're still in your pajamas?"
He keeps me humble, that man.
But yes, he was really impressed. So impressed that he was speechless about all those wonderful things. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Last night, a neighbor called me. Another neighbor had called her. The MPs (Military Police) were going door to door a few streets over and telling people to keep their kids inside, that they were looking for a sexual predator in the area. I called another neighbor and asked if her son (age 11) was inside or out. He was out. I relayed the info.
Later, neighbor #1 called back and said her husband had called the station and that they gave vague answers about how kids should stay in their yards and not talk to strangers, and that they weren't looking for someone in particular. But neighbor #2 ran an errand and saw a half dozens MPs at the gate near us and at another gate asked if they had caught the person. The guard at the gate said he didn't know, went and asked another person, returned and said that they hadn't heard anything on their radio. But he seemed to act as though they were looking for a particular person.
So, Bill's assignment for today is to get some answers. At issue is and always has been the security of our neighborhood which is just off Route 1 and doesn't have a fence or other barrier to indicate that it's a private road. A bit down Route 1 is a homeless shelter which multiple sex offenders have listed as their residence.
Our new neighborhood is just like two other new housing areas on post. All the backyards are surrounded by 5' tall fences which are easily climbed. Every house has a garage - some are attached (like mine), but most are detached. The other housing areas have had a serious problem with theft - and the MO has been that the thief climbs the fence and enters the garage through an unlocked door. It's very easy to be careless about an "interior" door. If your garage is detached, the theft is confined to the contents of your garage. If your garage is attached and you also left the door to your house unlocked, the theft could spread to anything in the house.
Until recently, Bill and I theorized that these thefts were likely being done by teenagers who lived on post, likely in the neighborhoods being robbed. But last week, there was an innocent article in our local paper about the K9 unit on post. It was all about the dogs and their training. In the article, it said that a dog was called in for an ongoing breaking and entering the previous week, and the dog chased the scent of the perpetrator to Route 1 which is about a mile from this neighborhood. I think a neighborhood teen would run to another part of post, not to Route 1. But that's just a guess.
I suppose any neighborhood, on or off post, is potentially dangerous or could attract bad elements. I remember a few years ago there was a rash of B&Es in the town where we lived in NJ. For several months, we followed the police blotter published in the paper to see what streets were hit and gossiped about who had the inside scoop from what cop. But the closest victim was over a mile from my home and the thief hit two or three houses a month. Here, all the victims are within a few miles of my house and the thief (or thieves) are going into 5 or 6 homes all in one night, usually every week.
Did I mention we'll be getting a dog soon? Seriously. A few weeks ago, we put in to adopt a dog from a German Shepherd rescue. We're waiting for them to tell us which dog has a good temperment for our family.
And, of course, you must realize that all this focus on a "bad guy" in the neighborhood is meant to be a distraction from the huge weight on my shoulders - Fritz's biopsy. I get sick to my stomach when I think about it.
Last night, after the kids were asleep, Bill and I talked about it. I had to tell him about the guilt I feel. Does any mother ever not feel responsible for her child's health - even if it's unreasonable? There are so many things that bother me.
The doctor pointed out to Bill that you can see how his jaw is bulging. His chin, on his right side, is more pronounced than on his left. You can see it. We didn't see it. I looked at a photo of him from over a year ago, and I can see it there too. We didn't see it.
He went to the dentist when he was 4, but I hadn't taken him since. His teeth are fine. He, and my other kids thus far, are like me. I go to the dentist once every 3 or 4 years. I brush my teeth twice a day. I floss twice a month. And every time, the oral hygenist is shocked at how great my teeth are. But my kids are not me. I should have taken him to the dentist. Maybe they would have seen this sooner.
I will flog myself for the rest of my life over this. Even if he's fine. Even if it all works out in the end.
But, in all things, I see the hand of God. My wonderful husband, who notices my pajamas and not his breakfast over a campfire, helped me to see it last night. I was in so much need of comfort that he just could not provide. But God, through him, gave it to me.
"We should have been in Fort Leavenworth right now. But we're not. We're here, with some of the best doctors in the country."
I needed to hear that. I needed to know that God is right here actively taking care of us. Yes, Bill's job stinks. Yes, we should have been enjoying a year in Kansas with loads of free time to do family stuff, and instead he's working horrible hours. But, no, we needed to be here. Even if it means a tough job for now. Even if it means he doesn't go to school next year either: both the orthodontist and the oral surgeon have asked "How long will you be in the area?" That's just not good. But it's OK. My guilt is not assuaged, but my soul is comforted.
It will be a rough road.
But we're not alone.