Getting Out

I've read that it's good to get out when you have a baby. I'm sure it is; the whole range of effort required, mental, emotional and physical, makes it more than a difficult exercise. Today, I persevered through the mental battle (should I go? should I stay home? should I take a walk instead?) and made it out to the car, Ethan in tow. We went to Goodwill, where I found nothing I wanted (who wants to pay $5.99 for someone else's old used jeans? I'd pay $1-2, thanks), and to Hobby Lobby, where I wanted just about the whole store and only bought a little miniature bubble gum dispenser for my miniatures collection because I've always wanted one. I was looking for some way to organize my crafts, but realized, as I looked at the myriad stuff to organize other stuff, that I probably have what I need at home. Nonetheless, it was a good outing.

We saw flags at half-mast, and I remembered that it's 9-11. I honestly wouldn't have otherwise. As we rounded the corner to the house, I saw a group of young peace promoters/protesters, complete with large signs and dreadlocks and Rasta-style hats. You just don't see that much in East Texas. I wanted to stop and tell them how much I am a fan of peace. I pray for peace so that I won't have to leave Ethan-boy and Matt to go defend their security and freedom, although I would be glad to do so if needed. To defend their right to express any point of view they want, even. I wanted to ask them, with all their peace posters, if they would do the same for me. Perhaps they would, but with the baby and all the effort it took to get out in the first place, I didn't have time to find out.