Troy

As we've been thinking about our future and ministry in Haiti, Troy and I have both been doing personal inventory and considering our collective talents. Together we're a decent team.

I need him for balance, reassurance, strength, and the occasional "Get it together woman!!" speech. And he needs me for .... uh, hum ... he needs me for .... ahem ... er, think Tara, think!
Oh yeah, he needs me for details. I am his detail assistant. And, I also change diapers.

I am good at details and consider myself relational. (Still selectively social - but relational.) Last night I was doing something that I do often. I was filling him in on the people he might meet in Cap Haitian. I was telling him which kids are being adopted to people we know and which names match up with certain ministries. I can keep dates, stories, relationship connections, details, etc. fairly straight. This is not Troy's strength. After about six different sentences that started with, "Now remember" and then went "so and so is from Minnesota - had a baby - and they know our friends so and so ...."

Finally Troy said, "Stop! They are all getting mixed up in my head. I am going to get up there and ask the wrong person about their daughter who works with your friend and give condolences on the death of the baby to the one who just found out they are pregnant. STOP!"

So, if you are in Cap Haitian and you run into Troy between now and Sunday I think you should mess with him and tell him he got you mixed up with someone else, even if he got it right. Maybe even act offended or hurt. Cry if you want.

All of the "ladies" in this house (as Isaac calls us - he'll say, "well hello ladies" when he walks in) decided that Troy wears his clothes too big and a few shirts are too ugly to be seen. We all hate the new yellow shirt he got. He wears it at least once a week, maybe twice. The last time we were folding we collectively decided it should disappear. I don't know *who* ended up putting it down in Phoebe's dresser, but someone did. (Read: Paige) As Troy packed for his trip he kept saying, "I can't find that yellow shirt." This morning, the guilt got to me and I innocently suggested he check the kids' dressers. Jen, Tess, Paige and I all agree - it is a shirt that only a 70 year old man should wear. In 37 years we can re-think it. But, because I could not bear to watch him search for it any longer, Troy is headed to Cap Haitian in the ugliest shirt you've ever seen. It has a stinking place to put a fishing pole people, really, it does.

I *would* post a photo of the shirt. But I care too much about you.

Apart from all this teasing, (that I know Troy will read tonight) I should note that I love Troy- I love him soooo much. I am lucky. I am constantly in awe of the ways he has grown. He might still like ugly clothes and he might not be able to keep everyone and their life story straight --- but he is truly one of the kindest people I know. He is calm, loving, funny, smart, and a fearless leader of our family.

I will miss you this weekend honey! (But not your shirt.) Have a fun time and be safe - or relatively safe.