It seemed kind of strange when it occurred to me; life repeating itself through the family. It really doesn’t mean anything special, or important, it’s just a little ironic that’s all. Paula and I spent Sunday with Miranda, and Ranger. Chad was out of town, and we had stayed the night with Miranda, and Ranger, and then gone to worship with them. After worship we went back to the house and started watching the Olympics. As we sat watching the Gold Medal Hockey game it dawned on me how little I watch Hockey. I’ve been to two Stars games, I watched the finals a few years ago when the Stars won the Stanley Cup, and I watched the “Miracle on Ice” back in 1980. That’s about it.
Sunday, Paula was doing her best to keep up with Ranger, while Miranda and I watched the game between Canada and USA. Somewhere during the game it hit me. When Paula and I had sat in our “Trailer House,” as it was known back then, and watched the “Miracle on Ice” she was, ever how you want to say it, “with child,” “expecting,” “carrying,” “in a motherly way,” “had a bun in the oven,” or “knocked up.” Our second “bundle of joy” was due in September, and her name would be Miranda Darice Smith. Sunday I sat on the couch and cheered with, moaned with, and held my breath with Miranda, as she sat on the couch watching Team USA play for the gold, with a slightly protruding belly that is the home of her second child that is due in September.
Like I said, it doesn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of life, but it was kind of neat to think about.
Till next time,
Grump