Surprise

[reposting as I read blog posts to my Mamaw at the hospital]. A couple of weekends ago I spent a quick weekend in St. Louis, my teenage hometown and the city where my brother and sister-in-law have firmly planted their roots. They're expecting their first child and we traveled south to celebrate the baby shower, ooh and aah over tiny, pink baby clothes, and hug the soon-to-be-parents one more time before their world wonderfully rearranges.

After a long day in the car, we trekked to Busch Stadium, all three siblings cheering on the team we were raised to root for, knowing the next time we were all in those stands, we'd likely be rotating laps for a red-clad, chubby-cheeked little girl. We cheered for seven innings, leaving early, we thought, to satisfy my dad's sweet tooth and another family tradition of capping off happiness with a frozen custard indulgence.  While in line at Ted Drewes, a familiar voice sparkled in the darkness.  When I turned around, my brother was hugging our Uncle Buck, freshly flown in from North Carolina, grinning at the squeals of joy emitted by my sister and I as we realized we'd been gloriously duped.

To say my uncle has had a rough year would be putting it very mildly.  He has had the type of year that sucks the joy out of most people, the type of year to which I have no ability to relate.  To be forced into a season of weakness and dependence in a life characterized by the opposite of those adjectives has been difficult to hear of, to occasionally watch, but that's nothing compared to what it would mean to live through it.  But all that being said, he has never stopped being our Uncle Buck.  While he likely felt weakened to the point of being someone else entirely, he has remained the unconquerable, the smiling, the loving, the mountain-of-a-soul man we've grown up adoring.  So, to see him in his of-course-Uncle-Buck-is-surprising-us glory, my dad grinning beside him in brotherly hoodwinkery, makes my eyes fill to remember.

That kind of gut-busting joy, the kind born of prayers and phone calls, hopes and praises, is what awaits this new little wonder. She will be born into a family that often messes life up, often asks forgiveness, often argues about irrational things, often eats too much, often pushes too far too fast, often demands too much, often exhausts the Scrabble dictionary with pleas for word affirmation. But she'll also be born into a family that loves deeply, buys plane tickets to surprise unsuspecting loved ones, finds infant cheerleader outfits for family sports teams, prays before road trips, wipes away tears with phone calls after bad news, gives hugs that could crush weak ribs, stops for fireworks, builds a great fire, knows a good rocking chair, plants gardens, teaches every child how to fish, loves the Lord, and roots for the Cardinals.

She's a lucky little lady, my soon-to-be niece.