What is January 17?

Ok, this is silly.

I was doing my nightly homework of watching an episode of "30-Rock" and on the show there was a scene that mentioned it was January 17, 2007. I'm thinking, wait a minute, today is January 17. That's weird. On that show, I am a combination of Liz Lemon and the office page. I am thinking of those insecure characteristics of Liz and the inappropriate enthusiasm of Kenneth blended together to make up the perfect me. And then, wait a minute, they said January 17, 2007. I had to dig up the old Care Page journal we kept when Bob's liver failed.

At the time, thanks to the luxury of employer paid family medical leave, my laptop and I took three months off of work and basically held vigil on a rocking chair next to a comatose-like Bob. We couldn't have much for visitors (mostly because of the pruitus) and the generous digital community kept us sane. We lived in student housing at the seminary in St. Paul and were anticipating the results of his next set of labs. I pretty much knew we were on the upswing. Anyway, here's what I wrote on January 17, 2007. Unedited.

January 17, 2007 at 10:59 AM CST
Our darkness is never
Darkness in your sight,
The deepest night is clear
As the daylight.
Taize’

After one overnight on the sleeper train to Calcutta, I felt one with India.
Like I had really connected. Ridiculous, actually, because it’s such a great big
diverse place and I was there for a whole ten days. Yet while others in my group
battled cockroaches or felt afraid in their bunks, for some reason the night
train worked for me. And the next morning as we exited the coach I thought to
myself, I love India and I’m having a great time.

My ticket put me in a section of the car away from my group. Not exactly a world
traveler, I was nervous. A family sat all around me who took me in like a guest
in their living room. That cool way where it’s culturally appropriate to sit
formally with bare feet crossed onto your chair. My Mom would love India.
Personal space is different, as your shoulder would linger on that of a
stranger’s with out a notice. They showed me pictures of a recent family
wedding; I showed them Amanda’s one year old portraits. She’s so cute, they
exclaimed. At official sleeper train bed time, everyone just knew what to do.
Bunks turned down and people turned in, like a slumber party on tracks. Instant
quiet ‘til the morning’s loud ‘Chai! Chai!’ guy making the rounds with tea.
Later I learned that the family was actually a collection of families who just
happened to sit in the same section of the car, like me. They didn’t know each
other either. Isn’t that silly of me – they were all Indians sitting together
and I assumed they were blood relatives. Hello, Terri, you’re in India, of
course they’re all Indians. But really, what amazed me was the way they treated
each other like family during that short time together. Just so comfortable and
friendly. I loved that.

My travel is very light compared to other [international aid agency] colleagues.
Yet I always depart with incredible angst about leaving behind my kids and security. "Why oh why
have I abandon my own children," I ask myself for the duration of the trip,
almost in despair. Yet every single time, I have been led to strangers who turn
to instant friends who protect me like mother hens; and to people who are larger
than life mythical in the way they conduct their lives. That's the privilege of
traveling with [an international aid agency]. I’ve always returned home deeply satisfied and stronger in my world view that goodness prevails on the ground.

You never know what the night brings. I never imagined ours would bring us all
of you, of whom, by the way Aidan continues to be fascinated. Today, I’m
printing out all eight pages of you so he can study your names on his top bunk
in his own time. Last night as we read your names, he would say ‘yes’ or ‘no’
depending on if he knew you. He would trick me by saying ‘yes’ for someone he
obviously did not know, and vice versa. In which case I would have to tickle
him. Over and over, like a Veggie Tale board game, as if you don’t know that
you’re going to be tricked once again.

Our night has brought us you and we’re trying to figure out how we will go about
thanking you all. My neighbor, Kathryn, knitted us the most stunning prayer
shawl you can imagine. Exquisite color and texture. A work of art with beads and
charms. May it remind us that God has known us since we were knit in our
mother’s womb, she said. We’re trying our hardest to send gratitude through our
ceilings and into their apartment. And I’m doing the same through this wireless
connection – trying my hardest to digitize the thanksgiving. I hope it reaches
you.

Today, more bloods with Nurse Nice. Maybe with results by the end of the day.
Tomorrow, consults with Berryman and Talwalker. My prognosis – I’m almost sure
the labs will show improvement. I am not afraid of this night anymore. Even if
the bilirubins go up, for which I’m trying to prepare us all. If only the
pruritus would go away for good then the recovery will push forward like a train
in the night.

*

Thanks, friends! xoxo

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart