Nathaniel is nestled in a make shift bed for a late nap and I thought rather than spend time answering all the texts and emails asking how we were doing, I would try to get a post up here. Thank you to those taking time to connect with me, letting me know you are praying, and asking how we are doing.

We arrived safely in Cincinnati last night. Emily, an homeschool senior in high school, is our travel companion. Emily spent about ten hours with us last week learning how to monitor Nathaniel for airway emergencies and how to suction. She and Nathaniel did great together in the backseat yesterday.

I had to leave the ranch by six this morning and am in Denver waiting at the gate for my flight. I know life will be full speed ahead when I get home so I am hoping to post these last photos before they start boarding. I think for the sake of time I might just put all the remaining photos in a gallery. There will be some extras from earlier days and a few I took of Andrew's leather work on Sunday. I was especially captivated by Andrew's hands this visit. They can lay a gentle rein to a horse's neck, force the weight of a trailer onto a hitch, and create beautiful works of purposeful art. It is a special gift to have been able to come and see him in his environment and doing the things he loves. We talked some this weekend about the fact that he lives so far away. The sadness of that truth is lightened by knowing he is happy.

Andrew was out of the house and in the saddle by six this morning. They had to move one hundred and twenty mares and their foals to a new pasture. He was back at the house around nine, we had breakfast, and then left for Cheyenne. It was go to town day.

I was awake and out of the house before sunrise, and I was over an hour late. Andrew and his boss, Jed, had saddled five horses, taken them by trailer to the arena, rounded up about fifteen leased yearly Corriente steers from the pasture, and already run a few through the shoot by the time I arrived. The cowboys had forgotten to tell the insects the day had started; the grasshoppers and cicadas were still singing the night songs as the blue of dawn was just fading.

By four o'clock, my lips were stinging chapped and every time I put my teeth together, I crunched dirt. The water we got from the red pump in the back pasture was almost gone. It was warm. I was hot. And there was more work to do.

Having now experienced daily life on a Wyoming ranch leads me to suspect there is always more work to do.

Our son, Andrew, works as a cowboy at the Bartlett Ranch in southeastern Wyoming. The ranch breeds and sells quarter horses. Andrew "rides the rough ones and ropes the wild ones." I flew to Denver last night and drove up to the ranch to spend time with him for the holiday weekend. It has been a year and a half since I've seen Andrew. It is good to be with him.

I had planned my next blog post to be about our new homeschool year. Getting home from Cincinnati tumbled into a very busy week of adjustment to a new school routine, learning our way around some new curriculum, and merging the role of teacher with mom again.

To celebrate the completion of our first school week, we spent a beautiful Saturday morning playing and walking at the park. One of our new adventures this school year is to have a primary communication partner wear Nathaniel's talker so it is available to model his express language at all times. Rich continues to amaze me. He is fifty-five years old, raised seven kids, and could be spending his Saturday morning doing so many other things. But he was at a playground, learning a second language, and proving with his whole being how much he believes Nathaniel can live a normal life. In our adoption interview, Rich told everyone that he expects to someday do a backpack trip at Philmont High Adventure Ranch with Nathaniel. Many had expressions of doubt. What I don't think they realized was that Rich would help Nathaniel train for that outing from the beginning. Because you don't wake up fifteen years down the road and tell a kid his disabilities shouldn't stop him. You get on your hands and knees day after day and show him.

The outside door from the bedroom to a patio is open and I am watching fog roll off a pond just beyond the patio. Cool Ohio morning air is coming through the door requiring me to stay snuggled under the comforter. Our week at Cincinnati Children's Hospital for Nathaniel's evaluation by the Aerodigestive Clinic is over; we are spending the weekend at a friends' home before heading back to St. Louis. It was a good decision to come here and gradually re-enter real life. Generous hospitality and peaceful settings have a unique way of setting things back on course and calming chaos. I am thankful for this place to linger, to reflect, and to write this morning.

It was twenty-three years ago this month that Rich and I started watching the cattle report.

I was attending a weekly women's bible study that summer and had shared with the group in July about a mole on Rich's leg. I had nagged and nagged him to go to a doctor to have it removed and checked for cancer. I had made multiple appointments for him. For most of spring he had refused to take the time off work to go and had cancelled the appointments. The women agreed to pray with me that Rich would make an appointment and have the mole looked at. Within a few days of our prayers, Rich made an appointment and had the mole removed. That answer to prayer was a lesson for me on how God can work when I step out of the way.

I have been a bit lost about what to write this week. No. I have been a bit lost about what to feel this week. My head and heart are already in Cincinnati; it is hard to think and write about life here and now. Perhaps that is why I left a bag of groceries at the check out today. Sigh.