Very soon—next week in fact, I’ll get to talk to my far away boy for Christmas. When people hear that he only has six months left they ALWAYS say, “Wow, the time has gone by so fast.”
Well, not to me…
He sent us these pictures and truthfully they remind me of so many things we have to be thankful for this holiday season.
Here is the paper clip star on top of his tiny pretend Christmas tree.
Here he is with Elder Newman at a place called the Hill of Crosses. The people in Lithuania have left millions of crosses here for over 600 years in defiance of foreign invasion. Dane sent post cards from this monument as well. It is an amazing place.
Here is the Barbie sized Christmas tree that sits on their table.
He sent this one especially for me. This is a game we used to play on hot summer days. He’d actually lay on the floor and let me “try” to pour water directly in his mouth without nearly drowning him. Why he loved it I’ll never know–but apparently he’s carrying on without me.
Silly dude…
Since the string of lights is bigger than his whole tree–he put it here with a picture of the Savior. Very pretty–I’d say.
Here they are…The men in black–looking all brave and scary. But we know who they really are…
Elder Porter, Elder Cook and my Daney-boy–in their true forms–crazy people in a foreign land. Please note the matching ties. Yikes…
What better place could there be for Sir Dane, than to be surrounded by ancient castles and motes and bridges? He is really happy in this place.
He’s still in Lithuania but he’s been transferred to a village called Siauliai. I know…I know. No idea how you pronounce that one. He said it was like being taken to the Hobbit Shire, in Middle Earth.
He was asked to speak in the business school in town. They wanted to hear an “actual American” speaking “proper English.” If you knew Dane before he left and ever heard his fake foreign or his own personal slang–you’d know funny that is.
My sweet boy has been gone for 1 year and 5 months—which means, he will be home in about 7 months! Wahooo!
Just in time for the bald kid—our baby, to step up.