Squeaky Shoes, Girly Clothes, and Red Thread

Two months ago, we dragged ourselves home and collapsed from exhaustion. A cloud of Chinese dust puffed into the air and slowly settled around us as we slept. That was okay with us. That Chinese dust gave us Carly Anne Yue Yi Russell.

Since January 26th, we have settled into our new way of life. It's a life full of remembered things like bottles and diapers, and new things like little girl clothes and squeaky shoes.

Squeaky shoes...let's think about them for just a moment.

Squeaky shoes squeak like dog toys. They squeak like your new puppy has found a favorite toy. They squeak a lot. They squeak loudly. The Chinese love squeaky shoes. They put them on their babies when they begin to learn to walk. The babies hear the squeaks and are delighted to learn that they can make more squeaks by taking more steps. The more steps they take, the more squeaks they make. The more squeaks they make, the more steps they take. It's a never-ending cycle. It can be maddening.

Squeaky shoes are sold in every cute style and every pretty color. The shopkeepers in Guangzhou know that the American parents passing through their shops have Chinese Yuans that they must spend before boarding their international flights home. The shopkeepers are wise and stock their shelves full of squeaky shoes that are cute and pretty-colored. We Americans don't leave their stores until we have thought about buying every single pair. We don't actually do that, but we consider it. They are cheap, after all, and we really do need to get rid of all of that extra Chinese currency.

The Russell Family tried to buy a pair of squeaky shoes for every possible occasion. We stuffed them into every corner of our suitcases and hoped that the airline employees didn't mistake them for suitcases full of mice. (Airline employee #1: "Did you hear a bunch of mice?" Airline employee #2: "Did I ever! We're infested! Empty the plane!")

Carly has worn squeaky shoes at home, church, family gatherings, Walmart, visits with friends, and doctor checkups. She began walking shortly after we came home, and now can walk very well. The squeaks haven't stopped, though. I'm a little worried about that.

Squeak. Squeak. Well, they do look good with all of those little girl clothes.

Carly's closet is bursting with dainty clothes in pinkish colors. They make the room glow with a girly cast of light. I feel pretty just walking by the door.

Sandy and I are very well blessed with a bunch of good friends. They must have been waiting with tensed muscles for the day they could snatch little girl clothes off of the store shelves. They have trucked them into our home faster than we could follow. Thank you to every one of you. I would name you individually, but I'm not very good at knowing who gave us what. Once the card is separated from the gift, it's like a great gulf forms in my mind. I can't connect the two. However, Sandy can quote every gift and gift-giver just like the Walmart Gift Registry computer. I don't think I can connect her to a printer, though, so please know that your generosity has touched our hearts.

Logan's heart has been completely given to Carly. He watches over her like a mother hen. She falls, he picks her up. She wants a toy, he gives it to her. She wants a Wagon Wheel (the Gerber baby treat and not the Wild West kind), he hands it to her. He has become her protector,her friend, and her family. He's her big brother. It's that simple.

Over the last two months, this new family of big brother, little sister, and mom and dad have bound themselves together. The Chinese believe that everyone is connected by a Red Thread. The Red Thread is a single piece of unbroken thread that binds your heart and soul to your family and friends.

Red Thread is strong and means that you will always have your family and friends.

What a nice idea.

Taking A Census...

I mailed our Census Form the other day. Three check marks for three white people and one for a tiny little Chinese girl. Sandy and I have just changed the demographics of Mammoth Spring, Arkansas.

I think it was for the better, don't you?