...but Asher's not, so I gotta wait him out before I hit the sheets.
The man is away in London right now at the NFL game. I'm glad he got to go, but I hate being alone in the house at night. Ever since I walked into my mother's empty house (aged 18) at 3 am in the morning minutes after it had been ransacked by thieves, I just don't do well home alone in the dark. I mean, I really really hate it. Which just goes to show you how much I love him. :)
So when the man's away, I try to stay up as late as possible until I can't keep my eyes open any longer and then no longer have the wits about me to be too afraid to sleep. I do this one of two ways: by watching movies and tv shows downloaded from iTunes, or playing on the internet. Tonight is internet night and I have found myself completely drawn into the world of a baby boy who died three years ago.
I'm not quite sure what it is about this story that intrigues me. I mean, there's the God component. I saw the family on Oprah a few weeks ago and I knew just from the sound of the story that they were believers. Then there's the fact that I just gave birth to my own son, who for some twist of fate or luck or providence is totally, completely healthy. (I always wonder at the supposed randomness of God's works. I mean, I know it's not random, but I really do wonder why He chose me to be the mother of healthy children and yet He chose others... well... it's too hard a question for me, I guess).
And then there's that the baby's name is Eliot. This was the name we chose for the baby we lost in 2005. I've never told anyone that, that that was the name, anyway.
Even though I only discovered this story now, years after the fact, I desperately wanted their Eliot to live. I am completely enraptured by this story, by the pictures, by the faith, by the grief. I really don't know why. I do know one thing, though. This family knows God in a way I don't yet know Him. For that, I long...