Yes we in Moscow are still alive and chuggin' along. We've been busily packing, cleaning, and finishing up school (yay Keith is done!). At this moment, every room in the house has at least one packed box. Actually, we've worked a little too hard, and are now coasting along waiting to pack more. Because, as Keith pointed out, if we pack anymore, we won't be able to live here!
Charlie's been a peach. He really has been pretty patient as I've been running to and fro, scrubbing this, boxing that and just generally appearing very unorganized.
For those of you reading who might not be aware, we're moving to Spokane next Saturday. New house, new friends, new church, new job, new town. Oh my. Even a new state! God's provision in giving Keith a job, providing us with renters for our house here and planting us in a new rented home up there has been abundantly evident and we are grateful.
Well, I hope that's caught you up. I'll leave you with a story about Charlie, because really, that's why you read this blog anyway, right?
The other night, after finishing up dinner with my aunt and uncle, we all sat chatting around the table while Charlie played in the other room. At one point, he tripped and fell. From the beginning we could clearly see this was no big deal and encouraged Charlie to "be tough." He lay, fake crying and said "Mama picks you up!"
"You want me to pick you up?"
"Yeah!"
"Ok, I'll hold you if you come here."
So, he gets up, comes over to my chair, lays down on the floor in the same position, and asks me to "picks you up." What could I do? I picked him up amidst tears of laughter!
