So let me lay down in this field
And stare up at the sky
I hope the days and clouds
Turn into something
As they pass us by
And maybe you could settle
For a skyline faded blue
I hope that you might settle
For this love I have for you
—taken from "These Ordinary Days" by Jars of Clay.
It's been just another ordinary day today. I am hoping God makes something of them as they keep adding up. Kylee has been dead now for almost 10 months. It feels like 10 years and 10 minutes sometimes in the same day. Helen and I are having a baby and he or she is due in August. I'm stunned at the notion of becoming a father in just over half a year. I keep thinking of how awesome it would be to tell my sister that she's going to be an aunt. She never was able to be an aunt—not officially. A friend recently told me that I can tell my sister—that somehow she can hear me in the heaven/earth crossover. I suppose it's possible. I have told her, actually, though telling the quiet night air that you're having a baby can be rather sad.
I guess I lied when I said it was an ordinary day today. I was on a national radio show today, for almost 10 minutes. As I was driving this afternoon delivering flowers, I was listening to some random catholic radio station here in south Florida. The show host was talking about infant baptism and a number of other things on the show and I decided to call in and ask him his opinion about the subject. To he completely honest, I didn't care to know what his opinion was—I just wanted to be on the radio show. Didn't think I'd get on, but as luck has it, I did. It was a nice brush with fame for me. I told that to Kylee too.