Thursday morning, Molly died. That evening resulted in a 911 call, a home loan rejection and three sad little faces.
Friday, a little boy that plays with Drew was attacked by a dog.
Tonight, my neighbor went into have her baby after we BBQ’d as a block… after having our morning coffee together and after the mail man told my neighbor he though I hated him (I don’t, I actually love him).
It’s been a crazy weekend. One where the neighborhood felt scary then, just like home. We don’t all get a long very well, or at all sometimes. Everyone thinks I’m mean. Even the mailman apparently but after the craziness of the little boy, it was like we had been friends all our life and the scary was gone and maybe it’s OK that this is gonna be home for a little while longer. At least a year, because what’s the point of moving twice if we don’t have to? And despite my lack of faith this last couple of years, I am trying to look at the rejection and the coming together, though crazy and not very well thought out by the big Guy, as a sign from God, that this is home. Maybe for the next year or more. It’s not the ghetto and yes we have trouble but it’s a beautiful yard with lotsa friends who have come to each others aid a lot faster and friendlier then I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe we are suppose to be here on Wacco road… I mean what else could he be showing us?

