Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Grace Triumphant 002
March 1, 2005
Just got a letter from Cinnabar. She has so many blocking agents on her computer that she still prints off snail mails to me and sends them via post:
Cinnabar, herself a survivor of the Sonrise homes, has blossomed in a way very different from Amy Carmichael. I hear from Amy Carmichael only infrequently now. Amy Carmichael and Jim live in Northern Pennsylvania, up in hilly country where people still leave their doors unlocked at night. I got a letter from her this past Christmas, updating me on the children. They have four boys and one girl, and their oldest son, James Junior, is 15 years old! I feel so old when I realize that my roommate from my senior year has a child who will get his driver's license next year.
They sent out a family photo: Jim and all his sons in navy blue suits, white shirts, and dark ties, and Amy Carmichael and little Rose Sharon in matching dresses. Amy Carmichael still has the wide-eyed beauty she had in school, but after five children she is rounder, her hair simply pulled back in a loose pony tail that flatters her face but is just as simple as anything she wore back at GIBC.
We're the same age, but I can still fit into the jeans I wore ten years ago. I have my hair cut and styled by "Jenisse," and I own more shoes than I should. The Christmas letter that Amy Carmichael and Jim sent out was a form letter, but she wrote in ink at the bottom, "I miss you and our cheerful phone conversations. There is never enough time. Our love to Greg and the children."
Greg and I used to drive up to Pennsylvania once a year to see Amy Carmichael and Jim. I'll mention it to him. Benjamin and Rachel are old enough to not need constant care, and I would like to see my old friends again. After all, Jim gave me away at my wedding!
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Just got a letter from Cinnabar. She has so many blocking agents on her computer that she still prints off snail mails to me and sends them via post:
Dear Grace,
Here are snaps of my two sunbeams, Josh and Joy. Joy Grace has taken her first steps. Doug holds her up by her hands and starts her off, and she staggers towards me, laughing as I encourage her, and shakily making each step in her sturdy white shoes. She can go about six steps before plopping down. Sometimes she claps her hands together as I encourage her to come to me.
I am just like you now! I pray for the children as I fold their laundry. Doug and I are using the manipulative toys to teach little Josh the foundations of arithmetic. We let him go at his own pace, playing with the cardboard pie pieces or arranging the plastic "popsicle sticks". But yesterday he showed us how to go from a hexagon to an octagon. He didn't bother with a seven-sided figure in between. Doug says he understands symmetry. His mind sees an order of progression in the symmetrical figures and discards the others. I've given birth to a geometrist! I can't believe he'll be five next month.
On the more practical front, Josh wants to know when he will be big enough to ride a bicycle, and he wants a cap gun. Do you let Benjamin play with toy guns?
I go in to the office for about ten hours a week and work the rest from home. They wanted me to become a project manager, but I said no. In fact, I wanted to resign and just be a full time mother, but Doug said he and I both have a responsibility to our country. We hate this war, but our work contributes to the safety of the American public as a nation. It is amazing how people with very low resources can find new means to distort signals so that our satellites misinterpret or miss information.
It wouldn't be right for me to bail out on this project just because I find Josh and little Joy to be far more rewarding than these endless algorithmic calculations.
I never get to see missiles launched or lasers directed at targets. All I ever see are curves on a grid. Calculus and Physics really are not the hilarious party that most people think they are!
Love,
Cinn
Cinnabar, herself a survivor of the Sonrise homes, has blossomed in a way very different from Amy Carmichael. I hear from Amy Carmichael only infrequently now. Amy Carmichael and Jim live in Northern Pennsylvania, up in hilly country where people still leave their doors unlocked at night. I got a letter from her this past Christmas, updating me on the children. They have four boys and one girl, and their oldest son, James Junior, is 15 years old! I feel so old when I realize that my roommate from my senior year has a child who will get his driver's license next year.
They sent out a family photo: Jim and all his sons in navy blue suits, white shirts, and dark ties, and Amy Carmichael and little Rose Sharon in matching dresses. Amy Carmichael still has the wide-eyed beauty she had in school, but after five children she is rounder, her hair simply pulled back in a loose pony tail that flatters her face but is just as simple as anything she wore back at GIBC.
We're the same age, but I can still fit into the jeans I wore ten years ago. I have my hair cut and styled by "Jenisse," and I own more shoes than I should. The Christmas letter that Amy Carmichael and Jim sent out was a form letter, but she wrote in ink at the bottom, "I miss you and our cheerful phone conversations. There is never enough time. Our love to Greg and the children."
Greg and I used to drive up to Pennsylvania once a year to see Amy Carmichael and Jim. I'll mention it to him. Benjamin and Rachel are old enough to not need constant care, and I would like to see my old friends again. After all, Jim gave me away at my wedding!
