The Letter B. As in...

BoyOhBoyOhBoy (and NOT in a good way, 'neither)
Head's up: **Coffee and a doughnut post**

While we were still sniffling over Sarabear's departure, DD said she wanted to spend a couple of nights at D's house. This was a friend of hers from [her] church, but someone I had not yet met (bear in mind that she was 22 years old and out of college, so I didn't exactly grill her over it). If nothing else, it seemed a nice distraction for her from the Sarabear blues we all had. After the first few days, however, DD stopped texting which made me a little nervous - we talk all the time throughout the day - but I figured she just got busy and I opted to give her some space. After more than a week passed without a word I was getting scared, and by the end of almost three weeks with no response at all to my [increasingly frantic] texts, I was rapidly becoming a basket case. Kicking myself for not finding out specifically where she went - but who predicts this kind of thing with a good kid? - I nearly wore out my knees in prayer and finally managed to come up with a message that I was pretty sure would get her attention and generate a rapid response:

Come home RIGHT NOW or I will cut off your phone.

Well, DD came home that same evening and looked at me as if I were a half a bubble off when I asked her WHAT was going on and where on earth she had been. She rolled her eyes, sighed in exasperation and said, "Remember Mom? I've moved out." Shaking my head, I blinked several times and stuck a finger to my ear and wiggled it around. Maybe she wasn't the only one with the hearing loss. Maybe I'd just lost mine. Huh? Wait. What?? Rewind please - and stay calm Jennifer - you can handle this. Actually, I don't believe I can. Nope, not at all. My right eye started to twitch.
"DO WHAT?!?" I roared. Calm? Calm? Kiss my big toe, I'll show you calm (but it is NOT gonna to be today).

Now I don't know about you, but my rendition of "moving out" had a completely different sequence to it. I remember distinctly that the announcing came BEFORE the leaving. Did yours go in that order too or am I nuts? I believe there was a distinct difference in the overall definition as well. Moving entailed the acquisition of many boxes followed closely by the packing and hauling off of large quantities of stuff within said boxes, leaving Mom lots of room to hide er, I mean store her surplus of craft items. DD's room was just as it had been the month before; crammed slam full of her things. I explained all of this to her quite thoroughly and even pointed out that Mr. Webster and I both viewed her actions in the same light:

²runaway

adjective —used to describe a person who has left home without permission
I scratched my head as she continued to exhort her emancipation via adulthood. Although I did not (and still don't) feel that she was ready for the world, she was adamant about being on her own.  My pleas for her to wait until she had saved some money and I could help her become better equipped for the big, bad world fell on deaf ears (both literally AND figuratively). What was I gonna do? Pray, obviously and turn her over to the Lord; that was all I could do. I'll admit to the sudden overwhelming urge to ground her until she was 50, but I was pretty sure that wasn't gonna fly...
Not long after her sudden decision to move the first time, we learned that she was suffering from severe depression (which probably played a pivotal role in her overly impulsive decision-making tendencies). It has been a long, hard year for all of us with a second disappearance, multiple unknown addresses, and several other prayerful and scary times.  Although DD has moved several times, she has finally landed in a safe place where she can get her feet under her (I hope) and thankfully, I know exactly where she is (renting a room from a close friend of mine). 

DD has now improved to the degree that she was finally able to stop taking all those frightening meds for depression (which were making her suicidal and disturbingly vacuous). Honestly, they seemed to hinder more than help her progress. Scary stuff. She has been discharged from counseling, and she now comes home for regular visits. Thank You, Lord! WOO! :o)  In the midst of it all, DD was combing rescue shelters daily in search of a canine companion. Although she has always wanted a Rottweiler, God had a better plan. Doesn't He always? Funny how that works. DD was hoping like crazy that she would find a Rottie in need of rescue and I was hoping like crazy she wouldn't. I prayed instead that God would find a way to make it work for her and He did. Now don't get me wrong, I wanted DD to have a dog, it's just that a Rottie is a LOT of dog and [consequently] a large financial responsibility and her meager income just wasn't up for it. She was SO obsessed, that at one point she was even talking to a breeder in Tampa. He had a lovely selection of registered championship Rottweilers: DD could have her pick of the litter for the bargain price of $3,000. Oh, and we'd have to go 400 miles to pick it up, too (do you need to guess who she asked for that particular favor?). Have you lost your tiny mind O child of mine? *faceplam* Must. Pray. Harder.

Well, it seemed that one of her former roommates (one of many that mom was rather leery of) could no longer keep her little dog and had decided to turn it over to a kill shelter. Yikes. Diamond was a cute 10 month old Chihuahua/Terrier mix who had the misfortune to belong to a [very irresponsible] girl - disguised as a grownup. Said girl is now, of course, a former friend of DD's (huh, Mom was right after all - well wonders never cease). It happened that this same little dog had been very dear to DD while she was living there; she talked about her furry friend Diamond constantly and had even sent me several pictures of her. The two of them seemed to have a relationship built on mutual adoration and Cassandra missed Diamond terribly when she moved. Anyhoo, it was DD to the rescue and apparently just in time as her owner had basically stopped feeding her (poor little thing was alarmingly thin). Seems the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree either because when DD took her new best friend to the vet to have her checked out, given shots, wormed, given a flea treatment and spayed - NONE of which had been taken care of by her previous owner - the following conversation took place:
Vet: Well she looks fine - just needs fattening up, but I'm afraid I can't do much for her right now.
DD: Why? What's wrong?
Vet: Nothing's wrong, I just can't spay her until after she has her puppies.
DD: PUPPIES????????????

I wasn't with her, but I did get a frantic S.O.S. text message about 10 seconds after their conversation ended. Seems we didn't credit her previous owner with enough stupidity; a puppy having puppies. *sigh*  We hoped and prayed for a healthy but tiny litter - just one or two, please? Well, Diamond gave birth to six absolutely adorable (and thankfully healthy) puppies. Oh my. It was a wonderful blessing for DD to watch their births - she kept me posted throughout with excited texts and photos. So, DD still comes to visit us but now it's with a tail-wagging entourage. I've been playing puppy grandma and helping out as much as I am able to with their care until she can find them all homes. We've found homes for two so far; four left. DD is - and we are - doing much better and though my knees do seem to be developing callouses I'm still praying away for God to keep her safe. Aren't they just adorable?

Thank you for reading my rambles, and have a blessed week everyone!