Oh, hey there Day 3.
If you are just now joining us, well, then... a plague on both your houses. No, I'm kidding. Welcome. For your convenience, here are Days 1 and 2 so you can catch up.
No seriously, read those posts. We'll wait.
Okay, great. Now that we're all caught up and on the same page, let's talk Day 3.
As I mentioned, Marlie and I are out of town for her coming of age chats. We have discussed all the necessary topics and early reports suggest that she is experiencing "pure disgust." I think my job here is done. #momfail
In addition to our planned act of kindness for the day, a couple also fell into our lap. Maybe "fell" into our lap isn't the right expression. These ones waddled across our path. Despite the road rage behind me, I came to a complete stop to allow approximately all of the brown peacock babies in North America to safely cross the road. It took a while because they kept coming, but I considered it an act of kindness. (And a bit of the adult version of my passive aggression I displayed in 8th Grade Earth Science.)
If those birds waddled into our path, this one fell. Or more accurately flew. Into the window. And then died.
I would normally pretend I didn't see the tiny bird corpse because I wouldn't want to touch it, but after all my internal preaching to the guy with the road rage about how birds deserve kindness too, I felt obligated to give this poor little thing a proper burial. Plus, our friends were so gracious and generous to let us stay in their cabin, that I really felt terrible leaving dead things around.
Once I got close enough to pick it up for it's proper burial, I panicked and just sort of flung it off the deck with a toilet paper tube. It was truly my personal best, though I can understand why that seems hard to believe. It was really gross and I am pretty sure I got the bird flu from the whole interaction. But I did technically remove the bird. So I am giving myself at least one point for that.
Our friend Joe (who allowed us to stay here) and his new fiance, Katie, are very dear friends of ours. They literally got engaged a week ago, and we failed in a major way in the engagement gift department. But Joe and Katie wouldn't even want gifts. They care more about quality time and good conversation. So, we thought that a fun way to bless them would be to make a Date Night jar (which is filled with creative ideas for dates) and a Deep Thoughts jar (which is filled with questions they can ask each other to grow them closer together.) This might sound cheesy, but trust me, it is right up their alley.
Marlie brought a lot to the table with her date night suggestions...
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Ahh yes, knitting. A beloved dating favorite!
And just to be as obnoxious as possible at all times, I threw in a few twists... like letting Joe's youngest son select their date attire. It should keep their relationship interesting!
When I was a little girl, my brother would put me in a figure four and would force me to say "I love you Uncle Adam." I don't know why he always said Uncle Adam, because he was just my brother not my uncle... but he would demand that I say exactly that. I would giggle and say "Okay, okay I will say it!" and I would proceed to say "I love you..." (insert dramatic, giggly pause) "...AUNT Adam!" And he would yell "ehhhh, wrong answer!" right in my ear, then straighten his leg causing me to laugh even harder, partly in pain, and fear that my femur would snap, but mostly in sheer delight at our little game.
As I sat with Marlie tonight, writing down silly things and deep things and all the things in between, I told her how much her Uncle Adam loved games and being silly and how he would have loved this. And I caught myself...
Uncle Adam.
You would think it would feel strange saying Uncle Adam because he never got to meet a single one of his 13 nieces and nephews. But it's not. Because even as a 15, 16, 17 year old kid... he went by Uncle Adam. And it breaks my heart a little every time they say "Uncle Adam" because they won't ever know their Uncle, but it is such a sweet gift to have heard him say it, to call himself by that name so many times. It's those small things that I remember, and it really is the small acts of kindness and silliness that he would have loved.
It's okay if these #AdamsActs are small or silly. It's okay if it's just a friendly smile or a good old fashioned, out-loud compliment... It's okay if it turns out that you can't do the proper bird burial. Sometimes just a toilet paper tube and some ice breaker questions are enough for now. I think that sometimes it's the littlest things that matter.
"I love you Uncle Adam..."
The littlest things do matter. UNCLE Adam will always be remembered by your kids.
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