home on the range, where the squirrels and the geese they do play...

(Why on earth the layout of this post is CRAZY is beyond me. Hopefully it's not so visually distracting you're not able to read it!)

For the first time all year I'm pleased about being back in the States. Coming back has been great, not in the least because my parents surprised me with a "new" 1995 Accord ("champagne") which is a replacement for my old, white, 1991 model. This is a really generous gift, given the fact that I'll be taking a rather largish road-trip in a couple of weeks and I need something reliable to drive, but also because they bought it off of our family friends, who gave us a fantastic deal. My other car (in case there are some of you wondering if you can buy it) has an irredeemable suspension, apparently, and some major cosmetic issues. It did have a great personality, though. But I'm happy to move on to something more low-maintenance. 

Besides that, it's nice to catch up on the Office and episodes of the West Wing that I didn't get a chance to watch over Christmas (I got seasons 3-5 from my family in December). I know all this sounds terribly lazy, but in the meantime I'm running around, doing silly errands like making sure I have health insurance. I'm still battling jet lag a little bit and at the moment feel very sleepy (it's 6:30 pm), but I'm glad to have some time to rest. 

My friend Lila put a poem on her blog, written by Scott Cairns. I really appreciated it and so I'm re-printing it here, but you can get more information on her blog. 

Possible Answers to Prayer

Your petitions- though they continue to bear

just the one signature- have been duly recorded.

Your anxieties- despite their constant,

relatively narrow scope and inadvertent 

entertainment value- nonetheless serve

to bring your person vividly to mind. 

Your repentance- all but obscured beneath

a burgeoning, yellow fog of frankly more

conspicuous resentment- is sufficient.

Your intermittent concern for the sick,

the suffering, the needy poor is sometimes

recognizable to me, if not to them.

Your angers, your zeal, your lipsmackingly 

righteous indignation toward the many

whose habits and sympathies offend you-

these must burn away before you'll apprehend

how near I am, with what fervor I adore

precisely these, the several who rouse your passions. 

I'll have more to say at some point, but now I'll just mention that despite the long night outside the airport infirmary in Geneva (we slept on cardboard and three small chairs), I made it back to Chicago in one piece and without incident. I have a lot to be grateful for and lots of good things to look forward to. Thanks for reading along and for your prayers.