For as long as I’ve known Cool Mum, she’s enjoyed figuring out who people look like. Once in a while, it makes for an awkward exchange when she asks someone, “Do you know who you look like?” That’s as loaded a question to be asked as any. The response could damage a friendship, especially if it involved a cartoon character. Well, Jessica Rabbit being an exception, I would think.
The other day, CM proclaimed that she knew who the new baby looked like. I cringed a little.
“The guy from the Dharma videos!”
She’s talking about the TV show Lost and its enigmatic doctor of Asian origin who appeared in several 1970s training videos. Me being a Lost nerd, immediately provided a name: “Pierre Chang?”
Whatcha think – do you see a little Pierre Chang in the new Cool Baby? (Dr. Chang is the bottom if you’re not familiar with Lost. Or human infants in general.)
The Lord works in mysterious ways, and we are Exhibit A. We have so many things going against us being cool.
- Both in our thirties. Cool Mum is 30, and I’m the oldest that Jesus ever got, 33.
- Have a toddler and are expecting our second bouncing, pooping baby boy in the near future.
- My latest attempt at redefining myself with a cool hairstyle ended like my attempt to pass the ‘skipping’ portion of the kindergarten curriculum: a miserable failure. (I was told that I was ‘galloping’. Well, sorry that I really looked up to horses when I was younger. Mr. Ed had a profound impact on my life.)
- We feel that the purchase of new underwear is cause for celebration.
But despite the mountain of evidence against us, we feel the coolest yet. Much like the redemptive qualities of The Island on LOST, Manhattan is redeeming our past offences against coolhood. In a city known for rude neighbors and service with a scowl, we are reaching new levels of coolness (as least in our minds).
Since moving to the Cool Duplex, we’ve been able to connect with people more than we ever have. Each week, our place hosts a rhythm of family dinners, playgroups, bible studies, spontaneous meals with friends, and LOST-watching parties, all with a refreshing variety of New Yorkers: established residents, newbies, singles, marrieds, all hailing from various parts of America and the world.
Many churches preach about community and many of us desire it. We feel blessed and pretty cool to be living in the middle of it. Thank you, Lord.
And even if we’re not any cooler than before, or even less so, there’s no denying that this is so cool, it’s ridiculous:
Sunglasses, plus cap from another country worn sideways, equals a strollerful of cool
This is the story of an island.
It was almost an accident that they ended up on The Island, but it was no accident. It was the machinations of an intricate plan with ancient roots.
Each of them were lacking direction of a sort, tossed about by the waves. Stripped of the comforts of home, wandering the jungle, they were scared, misplaced, doubtful, but alive with hope.
This is because The Island is special. It transforms and it hones. It offers mysteries and histories deeper than the waters that surround it. Somehow, on The Island, they found their way.
But some of them left. And some were left behind. Turmoil ensued. Maybe they were never supposed to leave. But maybe they were.
This week, we begin the next chapter in the story about The Island. And the story will go to lengths more extreme than we could have ever fantasized.
But the story is real.
The Island is Manhattan. Cool Mum and Cool Baby left weeks ago, but now they come back. Our future will be chaotic. Questions loom like skyscrapers and statues; answers may lie in their shadows.
Our story is landing somewhere, but we don’t know where. Our hope is secure, though sometimes we can’t help but feel lost. But we’re ready for the next chapter. Cool Mum is pregnant.