Dear old Rabbie Burns

Many thanks to the Mother of all Jurries, who alerted me that yesterday was the birthday of Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland, and therefore the holiday known the world round as Burns night. Unfortunately the Birns did not have a traditional Burns dinner, though if we had...

We would have dined in style on cock-a-leekie soup, haggis, tatties and neeps (mashed potatoes and rutabagas), clootie dumpling pudding, and other such Scottish delicacies. All of this washed down with adequate amounts of the "water of life" (Scotch whiskey, naturally). We would have read the Address to a Haggis, with appropriate amounts of irony and humor, of course.

A time of "immortal memory" would have followed, with reminiscences of Burn's life and works expounded on at length. Steve would've proposed a toast to the lassy who had prepared the meal, along with sharing his views on womankind. I would then return the favor, with a toast to the laddy and a general ruminating on the shortcomings of men. This done, we'd have read our favorite Burns poems, sung our favorite Burns songs, and danced the Highland Fling. Festivities over, we'd have sung Auld Lang Syne, and called it a night.

Sadly, we didn't do any of this. I did make shortbread for prayer meeting though. It was good.

Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat and cannot eat.
Some cannot eat that want it:
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.

Finally!

At long last I get around to putting the ultrasound pictures. We're so glad that our son seems to be healthy and well. He certainly is an active boy, with an apparent enthusiasm (and corresponding lack of talent) for dancing, particularly (but not limited to) between 2 and 4 in the morning. This dancing of course stops as I want to have Steve feel the baby's movements. A very stubborn boy, our Stuart.

Early this morning while the baby danced himself silly, I laid awake thinking big, ponderous thoughts. Well, honestly, most of my thoughts were of how much I wanted to be sleeping, but I did have some good thoughts. And the thing that strikes me about the middle of the night is how it's a perfect time for prayer. There are none of the distractions (well, besides rhythm-impaired infants) that exist during the day. No chores to be done, no blogs to be checked (it's been 2 minutes - there might be something new!), no errands to run, no calls to be made, no barking and dissenting dogs to discipline, no pretty, sparkly, brightly colored objects to be distracted by. It's 2 in the morning, it's dark, the bed is comfy and therefore a better alternative to being up, and things are generally pretty peaceful.

I won't say all that I prayed for, except to say that there were very fervent thanks to God for the man who invented Tums (I'm very grateful to this man, whomever he might be). I will say that I am very grateful to God for all His blessings in my life, including unborn white boys who can't dance. :-)