50 days left.

something about trusting him and coming forth as gold.

if you can say that a million times a day perhaps you will succeed.

last alb day. i told all the bad kids that if they were little angels the whole day i would make them iced coffees. now that is very forbidden. but i did it and it worked. alb day was a breeze and they all got iced coffees the next morning. done. jessi shianne does not have any more alb day. we hope this means she will never struggle with anxiety again.

my most darling little sunshine left on april 2. i cried. his skinny arms around my neck. his little kisses covering my face. someday i will tell you his name. because he was my little angel. (no pun intended)

first nursery is my heart. tiny little fist clenched and ready to conquer the world. faces staring up at me. black eyes. such a still room. the hot hair coming in the window. milk formula misted over the counter and little touches of baby puke. i sit with my feet on the window sill. soaking the early morning sun. all my tiny ones sleep long but im sure they will time it perfect and scream thier heads off all at the same time. i open the window and the intense hot sun pounds onto the tired carpet. an old honda drives by, its rusty body scraping against the burning pavement, music exploding from its open windows.. wafting down empty alleyways. the black rubber pads beneath the playground are so hot i can smell them. hot rubber. the sky is so blue. perhaps when i leave i wont be ready. perhaps i will long to stay. with the brown children. under this hot sun. where tears are sad and happy, where i am a mother to so many. where the streets are bumpy and ruined but to thier eyes they are gold. i will miss thier haunted eyes. staring into mine. falling onto the couch in mental exhaustion will forever be gone. the mental exhaustion of hurting for them. hurting because they hurt. crying because they cry. and while i sit here picturing the words i will write when i leave.. i am already lonesome. the magic that wraps around my soul is forever. may God hold it.

i am on the last leg of this journey. they call me old girl. the thought truly makes me cry. and stillness of the nursery and my thoughts are not a good combination.

a long squishy drive, on rough sandy roads. through fallen fences. the greasewood mission buildings are beautiful, low mud houses. thier lonely demeanor effects me. tacky bistro tables accompanying tired flower pots. string lights hanging all cheerful. the land stretches so far. still and hot. a deserted swingset. the volleyball net is falling towards the ground, i think one more wind and it will drop. so many scattered wild plants begging for water. the buildings so still. the whole yard seems to be in a trance. there is a beautiful authentic hogan planted in the center.

a fancy duramax drives up and an unexpected old navajo couple jumps out, her brown wrinkled skin... her gray hair. her genuine beauty.

the tiny fellowship hall is brightly decorated with easter eggs and tissue paper. missionary ladies are bustling around putting big ex's on hot cross buns.

we walk through the dusty yard, stopping to admire little cactuses bravely growing out of the sand.

the church, its outdated sanctuary excitedly embraces us. aqua curtains match an aqua clock. navajo men hobble up the aisle, and then the children. beautiful black braids winding around thier curious heads. big eyes and shy smiles. they meet my eyes and then quick to the ground. hogan hozoni staff and kids sing so cute thier innocent voices filling the little white church. the sermon is long. preached by a dark navajo. the kids fidget. my back aches. mission couples sing slow easter songs. a navajo man gets lead to the front, his blind eyes look over the crowd, sensitive hands grip the wooden pulpit. he leads us in a memory song. genuine love for his jesus i can tell. the beauty of it and a tear sneaks down my cheek.

after church we stand baking in the sun. around old whiskey barrels of dried cacti. the heat is much for my black moccasins. kids run for the lonely swingset, and now its laughter is squeaking across the yard. lunch in the bright hall, we squish in to eat an abundant easter meal.

thankyou greasewood for your enchantment. away from mud buildings and laughing children. and that little navajo church.

(dont drive home on bumpy roads squished on a bench seat with ki, tina, and bri. hair fights ect.)

SUCH a fun day with jo. we hiked church rock. which is by far my favorite thing here. the views are amazing and the wind blows the sand into even ripples. we look back at our footprints in the sand. it looks like the storybooks. odd objects randomly sticking out of the sand. and the rock so high above us, we watch it. sand hits our faces and the sun competes with the sand.

window rock. and long talks on the floor with my cho and des. love you chics.

facts. 50 days till im HOME. 35 full days of work left. old girls day off is on thursday. the plan is to go up in a hot air ballon at sunrise. so pray it works to go and pray i dont die. nobody come see me till im home. apparently iv had to much company the authorities arent happy with me. THANKS FOR COMING ALL YOU FRIENDS THOUGH. sonic has sugar free slushies that are pretty good. ok bye.