Part 7:

Normal. That is what I really want as I wake on Thursday. I know people climb mountains, go white water rafting and jump out of perfectly good airplanes for a rush. I have done these things. They are a rush. I need normal. The adrenaline/stress of the incident (my 7 year old calls it that) has my face breaking out and canker sores in my mouth. Just some normal please.

Today I am going back to work. I have finally slept and I need to get out of the house. My first stop every morning is the Crystal Flash near my office for the much needed Diet Coke. A must anyday. As I walk in, both gals behind the counter recognize me right away and I can tell in an instant they saw the paper or news and realized that was me. As I pay, all she says is how glad she is that me and my family are ok. Me too.

Walking into the office, heading down the hall, getting my computer on, normal. I have to tell the story three or four more times and that is ok. These people see me everyday. They crave information. As I work in sales for a construction company, I am ready for the abuse. Buttocks jokes are expected. Actually, they are going to give me some heal time before they really let me have it. I am sure there is plenty to come but this day, smiles, nods and from a few of the women in the office, a hug.

Sitting at my desk I begin to reenter the world. Answer some work related emails. Check calendars for things I was going to have done earlier in the week. But is is very hard. How to make work matter when the most important things in your life to do matter were so much in harms way? Needless to say, not my best day. But closer to normal.

That night everyone is back in the swing of things and school is the topic at dinner, not carjacking or bullet holes or even buttocks.

Friday is not unlike Thursday. A little more normal. Friday is usually movie night, especially for the boys. Often they are up stairs with a Star Wars or Disney movie and we are downstairs with some TiVo from earlier in the week. Not this movie night. We all enjoy the movie together.

Saturday we are planning a 'normal' Saturday. That means haircuts, grocery, bank, a few other stops and home for a nap and then something on the grill for dinner. The day goes well.

We have gone to the same barber shop for the boy's entire life so they all know us and I am certain that when we walk in they will start talking about it. I pray that they do not. We have agreed to not talk about it all day. Deal.

Entering, they all stop and look, smiles of concern and happiness that we are ok but no words. Another of God's provisions. As each boy climbs into their seat for their turn, I casually walk up to talk about what kind of haircut we need, which is the same every time, and whisper that we are not talking about it today we are just having a normal day. They all understand. As we leave, the boys and my wife are heading out when a few approach me quietly telling me how much they had been praying for us and how glad they are the we are ok. I could feel the prayers I tell them as our normal day continues.

At the grocery the boys are in one of those grocery carts that are like a race car and when we get out to look at the lobsters my oldest leans back in and tells me he is taking out the keys so nobody will carjack the cart. He says in a way that is so adult in his understanding yet childlike in its meaning. As we leave for the car they pretend that people are shooting at them and then one gets shot but he is ok since it was just in his buttocks.

Tom and I talk that night and agree that there is no way to not talk about what has happened. We have 90 adults and 130 kids in our church (I think). EVERYONE knows. We agree that there is no way to tell the story but rather to talk about how we are doing and to give some thanks for all of the prayers, meals, cards, etc. I am prepared to be emotional so my only request is a box of tissue on the stage.

I take a little longer than I planned and held together better than I thought. Zero tissues. This is when I also give the address for the blog. I have the event written and Tom and I agree that people will be able to get some closure and answers by reading what I have to say.

Now the service starts and my interview from Davenport makes it in the sermon. So do some other things from our event. Then the emotions hit my wife and I. Two tissues. Some of the worship songs are so touching. More tissue. I cannot sit so I am in the back when some says something about how the boys must have felt in the car. Give me the box of tissue. Kylene goes and grabs a few handful for her, my wife and me. Total tissue count: A lot.

After service there are hugs. Mom's coming up crying to give me a hug, no words exchanged. Dad's doing the same. Even a few of the older kids. I am, at this point, mercifully, out of tears. Smiles and hugs.

We are home and safe at 1:45 Sunday this week. The time comes and the time goes. Sunday goes on like a regular Sunday. Naps. Prepare for group. Read some of the paper. Normalish.

Group on Sunday is great. I dominate the study time talking about everything that has happened. There are still more questions, which is good. It will help us all move on. For those not in Cross Pointe, group is a weekly gathering of friends to share a meal and Bible Study.

By the time I sleep on Sunday, a full week has now past and I am able to close my eyes and have the normal things running through my head again. What do I have to do in the morning, who do I owe a call, etc. Still bits and pieces flash in my mind but now I feel better able to control them instead of the other way around.

As I drift off to sleep, I feel a warmth through my body. I feel ... normal.