Different But Good: August 2016

This is David. The pan of delectable deliciousness he is holding is called pani popo. It’s basically Hawaiian sweet rolls swimming in homemade coconut sauce and it is out of this world. Here is a list of miracles that made this pan of luscious delight possible:

David drove our van to forage for the coconuts to make the sauce. He has the coordination to drive safely, the memory to remember where he saw brown coconuts, the directional ability to find his way to them, the visual acuity to spot them, the access to past experience to assess which ones are good and which ones are not.
He collected and carried the coconuts back to the van, probably while holding T in the baby carrier and keeping an eye on the other two kids (let’s be honest, doing ANYTHING remotely productive while wrangling 3 kids is a feat of epic proportion)
He husked, cracked, shredded and milked the coconuts, a process that involves a pick axe, a sharp metal shredder, a blender and some cheesecloth, in addition to considerable patience, coordination and upper body strength.
He used the computer to look up a recipe, wrote the recipe onto a piece of paper and followed it step by step. There is a whole slew of executive function skills involved in this one seemingly simple thing that would be boring to list here, but trust me, this is miraculous.
He safely used the stove to cook the sauce, and remembered to turn it off afterwards (to be honest, I forget to turn the stove off more than he does these days)
He used a *gasp* sharp knife to cut the sweet rolls in half. Nobody I know cuts the rolls in half when they make pani popo. He came up with that all on his own to increase the surface area available for the rolls to soak up the coconut sauce. Again, executive function. Again, miraculous.

This kind of thing happens every day. Not the delicious soggy sweet roll thing, but the miracle thing. As life becomes more and more normal I’ve been worried that in the sheer volume of small miracles the awe and the amazement might start to wear off. I am pleased to report that it hasn’t. Each time I see David doing something. . . . normal. . . . I am warmed from the inside with gratitude and love and incredulity at his miraculous recovery.

I have a deep conviction that this life is not the end, and that after this life our bodies will be changed and become perfected. I am so, so glad that David and I have been given this gift of being able to continue on in this life in a state of, if not perfection, at least normalcy. That we have not been required to wait until some future time to continue our relationship full of love, joy and daily miracles.

Other noteworthy occurrences since January:

We attended a recognition ceremony for the two courageous, amazing men who helped administer First Aid to David at the scene of the accident. It was fantastic to reconnect with them and with the angel who took care of J and Z that day as well.