And, what is the nature of your visit?

Our park abuts a backyard in which five naked children used to play in the summer. Obviously renters; they're gone now. And obviously not Americans. For one, their children were always naked. But they also spoke another language and had the blondest hair I've ever seen. Such a peculiar thing to miss, but I do miss it. That would have been so interesting to anticipate at the end of every winter. Unbridled childhood in a different language.
I realize what causes me to pause, though, is losing another thing I expected to count on. (Mind you, this is no self-pity. It's just a matter of fact about our life in the city we love so much. Plus a little dose of self-discovery.)
We lost another peculiar-thing-to-miss this year. Our old neighbor, Bob. He bought his house back in '67 or '77--I should know, because every time he saw us he would introduce himself as Bob, the Catholic deacon who bought this house back in 19__ for $14,000 and raised my five children here. Four girls. One boy. My son always says he was raised in a den of lions. Is your husband good to you? He helps you with the kids? He was a staple. Every day, every week, every season I could look out our window and see what Bob was up to--it was always the same thing. Tending his spotless house, car, and yard. This winter he sold it for what it's now worth--over $400,000. He wanted so badly to sell it to our family, but for obvious reasons, we couldn't swing it. And now strangers live there.
I've gotten used to our family coming in and out of our lives--and perhaps back in again. I expect it. We live in a transient city. People don't usually move here to live. We're a stop along the way. I've accepted the role we will play in 70% of the lives of the people we will grow to love. We will love them and let them go. A new friend of mine asked me if this has caused me to attach more easily. What a strange question. I asked her to repeat it. Then to my surprise I realized, yes, I am much more willing to latch on to a person now than I was six years ago. I have no idea how much time I have with Friend A or Friend B, and I know how it feels once they're gone. I never wished they'd just left me alone. I always wish I had been a better friend to them.
But outside of our family, I guess I never considered that the "fixtures" of our neighborhood would change. So when something I assumed would never change, does in fact change, well, I'm taken aback.
Thankfully, this isn't causing me to shut down and shut out. (Not this time, at least.) Instead I'm reminded anew to love what we have while we have it. I appreciate even more seeing the same little boy named Ethan at the park for the third year in a row--the lilac bushes that grow on the edge of our park (because I can swipe them and get free lilacs on our table!)--the crazy, old neighbors we still have left--the gardeners who grow the same flowers every spring.
And not too seldom at all, God sets a diamond in our hands and it feels like He's saying, "Here. You can have another."

One of our friends dripping wet with love and grace after Stacey baptized her. Oh, what a beautiful story she has.

My baby daddy and Ladybug with Clint at the baptism.

Wonderful friends to love and appreciate!

By summer time we will have three of these family members still with us. Our others are moving on--one at the end of grad school, one at the beginning.