It has been seven months and two weeks since Christopher, Scout and I loaded our remaining belongings into a too-small taxi, leaving only one seat in the car for both Christopher and I to sit in for the 45 minute drive to Borispyl Airport at 4:30 am.

After a month of visiting Christopher’s parents, possibly the happiest and most enthusiastic new grandparents EVER, and also seeing friends in Colorado, we landed in a suburb 45 minutes outside Atlanta “New Capital of the South” Georgia. The lure was a sweet job for Christopher, as well as his grandparent’s house and car waiting for us.

I’ve been humbled by how well we’ve been taken care of by providence, by our families and how relatively smooth the transition has been. I mean, we had three HUGE life events in a short period of time. There’s a scale of what such change means for one’s stress level and having a child, moving countries and changing jobs are high up there.

I’ve felt shocked by how difficult this new life can be at times, even given all our advantages and blessings. I’ve felt thrilled at how true all of the good clichés about having a baby are. The joy, the wonder, feeling privileged to participate in such a mundane miracle.

I still can’t believe sometimes I have a baby, even at the same time that I sometimes can’t believe my little baby is nine months old, and is already such a big boy. He can sit up and is able to sort of drag/inchworm his way around a room, can turn book pages, understands several words and loves, loves, loves his mommy and daddy.

I promised myself I’d write more frequently and this is a beginning. Scout is now laughing over the baby monitor, his newest sound that isn’t always a real laugh but is delightful nonetheless.

More specific subject will be covered in future posts.

I’ll end today’s missive with the current offering on the Toonigh Baptist Church sign (I really love Southern church billboards and the folk-wisdom they offer in their messages):

If someone is getting your goat, talk to the shepherd.