
The Iraqi refugee family that we have been waiting for has finally arrived. Welcome Samira, Yahya, & Mirhan. They have already been teaching us how to speak Arabic, how to cook Iraqi food, and how to enjoy life even in difficult circumstances.
Last night I drove these children to the hospital where their Mom and their Pastor was waiting to tell them that their Father had died suddenly. Last they knew he had been taken to the hospital because of a bad cold, sore throat and fever. The doctors still don't really know what happened. Some how this sweet, sweet, man survived war and violence in Burundi only to die in America of some strange unexplainable infection. The refugee community in Aurora has lost a great man and these children have lost a great father. A whole parade of mourners showed up at the hospital last night to pay their respects.
Please remember this family in your prayers. They relied heavily on their father's income, so not only will their emotional road ahead be difficult, their financial situation will be uncertain. Luckily they have a great church family at St. David's Episcopal in Aurora.
For the past two and a half months the fifteen year old boy in this family has been working for us at Bryan House shoveling snow. I've been feeling so ready for winter to be done, but in light of this situation maybe a few more good snow days would be okay.


Winter is beginning to wear on me this year. Something about the cold seems deeper and more penetrating than usual. Getting out of bed in the morning is harder than I remember it being in the past. Maybe I'm just imagining things. Maybe it's always been like this. Maybe I'm just more fixated on it this year for some reason. Or maybe it has something to do with getting older. Whatever the cause, I find myself nursing an intense desire to hibernate, to just stay bundled up inside my house and not come out until Spring comes back again. A warm little den of rest sounds so nice right now. I have a craving for an extended period of quiet. A chance to slow down and breath and read and think and soak up the silence. I've had some writing ideas swirling in my mind lately. I'm thirsty for a little space and time to stir them and spill them into the page. The few snatched away minutes I have now is never enough time to do them any justice, so I don't bother to entertain them at all. But when I ignore them they seem to grow louder and more demanding, like neglected children. Maybe it's the noise from the thoughts themselves that is wearing me out. I find myself in a weird place, wishing either for Spring come immediately or for a month of terrible snow days all in a row which force me to stay inside. Both are silly, impractical wishes. So all I can do is try to weather the weather, and somehow shake myself loose from the grip of the gray and the cold. Lent comes before Easter.