"The story of any one of us is really the story of us all."
I love stories. I am so easily sucked in. So, given my pregnancy weary body and a tired brain to match, if you give me a TV remote I can easily waste precious time following someone else's story. (and, as Sweet Pea and I would say, turn my brain to mush.)
So, earlier this fall I was caught up in a TV medical drama that had a character sitting at the side of a patient whom the doctors had been unable to save. Turns out that this man was a stranger to her. She was weeping because he had stepped in front of a bus to push her out of its way. In turn, he died. So, here sat the woman at his cold body weeping at the sacrifice he had made for her. Prone to tears these days, I teared up with her. If I remember correctly, the woman had trouble moving on and stayed at the hospital still grieving what her mistake had cost another human.
The next day I found myself thinking about it. Wasn't that a small picture of what Jesus Christ has done for me? The salvation His sacrifice offered me, though, was no knee jerk heroic reaction. It was anticipated, calculated, and executed knowing the full cost to Himself. And, do I weep? Do I? Do I fully regard the price that was paid? Sometimes, yes. But, in all honesty, many times I don't. I don't want a heart moved to tears of guilt. As I know, there is NO condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. I do, however, want a heart that is easily moved to tears of gratitude. May that heart of gratitude then influence my every thought and action.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Little Me
Last week Sweet Pea and Stud had the following conversation:
Sweet Pea: Dad, what do you want for Christmas?
Stud: Tell Mom I want a 46 inch Samsung LED television.
Sweet Pea: Is that a tool?
Stud: No, it's a TV you hang on the wall.
Sweet Pea: Dad, you better have a back-up. Mom's gonna say "No."
Today at lunch Sweet Pea asks me what we're getting Dad for Christmas. I tell her I know he wants a TV you hang on the wall. She says, "I told him he needed a back-up request. We just spent a lot of money on the new van and we don't need to be spending more on something that turns your brain to mush."
Sweet Pea: Dad, what do you want for Christmas?
Stud: Tell Mom I want a 46 inch Samsung LED television.
Sweet Pea: Is that a tool?
Stud: No, it's a TV you hang on the wall.
Sweet Pea: Dad, you better have a back-up. Mom's gonna say "No."
Today at lunch Sweet Pea asks me what we're getting Dad for Christmas. I tell her I know he wants a TV you hang on the wall. She says, "I told him he needed a back-up request. We just spent a lot of money on the new van and we don't need to be spending more on something that turns your brain to mush."
Monday, November 30, 2009
Leftovers and...Communion?
Friday we had Thanksgiving leftovers at lunch. After quiet time, Sweet Pea wandered into the kitchen and said she had a question for me.
"Mom, you know how in the Bible Jesus said, before He died, that we should eat the supper again and again until He comes back? You know, it's kind of like Thanksgiving supper - eating it again and again."
"Mom, you know how in the Bible Jesus said, before He died, that we should eat the supper again and again until He comes back? You know, it's kind of like Thanksgiving supper - eating it again and again."
Friday, October 9, 2009
Sweet Pea and the Colonoscopy
Stud recently went in for a colonoscopy. A few days before the "event" I explained to Sweet Pea that they were going to stick a camera up Daddy's tushie to check and make sure everthing looked healthy and that Daddy was going to do it because he loves us so much and wants to take care of himself for us.
Stud got home from work that day and she looked at him and said, "So, Dad, are you excited about taking your pants off for people you don't know?" She thought this was hysterical and couldn't stop laughing about it. At dinner she was laughing till she cried.
The morning of the colonoscopy she asked Stud how big the camera was. He answered that it was about the size of a finger. Always the thinker, Sweet Pea paused a minute and asked, "Whose finger, yours or mine?"
At least she didn't worry about it.
(By the way, he's fine.)
Stud got home from work that day and she looked at him and said, "So, Dad, are you excited about taking your pants off for people you don't know?" She thought this was hysterical and couldn't stop laughing about it. At dinner she was laughing till she cried.
The morning of the colonoscopy she asked Stud how big the camera was. He answered that it was about the size of a finger. Always the thinker, Sweet Pea paused a minute and asked, "Whose finger, yours or mine?"
At least she didn't worry about it.
(By the way, he's fine.)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Recently Overheard at Our House
Sweet Pea is learning to swim and is making great strides. The other day she was swimming with Stud. She was so excited about a new skill she had learned. She told him, "Dad, when you see this, you're going to blow a basket!" (intending to say, I believe, "blow a gasket.")
Sweet Pea and Handsome play all sorts of interesting games that Mom doesn't understand. As long as they are happy and play nicely with each other (which they almost always do), I figure I don't need to understand. I was concerned, however, when I heard Sweet Pea say to Handsome, "Close the door, that way they won't see all the blood."
Sweet Pea and Handsome play all sorts of interesting games that Mom doesn't understand. As long as they are happy and play nicely with each other (which they almost always do), I figure I don't need to understand. I was concerned, however, when I heard Sweet Pea say to Handsome, "Close the door, that way they won't see all the blood."
Monday, May 25, 2009
A Good Read
I recently read Chasing Fireflies by Charles Martin. (My apologies to my eighth grade English teacher - I can't for the life of me figure out how to underline while in blogspot here.) I enjoyed this book so very much. Here is an excerpt:
A few minutes later, Unc walked up next to me and hung his arms across the fence railing. In his hand he held an empty mason jar with holes punched in the lid. He stood there a long time turning the jar. Inside, a single lightning bug fluttered off the sides of the glass. Every five or six seconds, he’d light his lantern. Unc turned the jar in his hand. “Scientists say these things evolved this way over millions of years.” He shook his head. “That’s a bunch of bunk. I don’t think an animal can just all-of-a-sudden decide it wants to make light grow out its butt. What kind of nonsense is that? Animals don’t make light.” He pointed to the stars. “God does that. I don’t know why or how, but I’m pretty sure it’s not chance. It’s not some haphazard thing he does in his spare time.”
He looked at me, and his expression changed from one of wonder to seriousness, to absolute conviction. “Chase, I don’t believe in chance.” He held up the jar. “This is not chance, neither are the stars.”
I was hurting inside, and the streaks shining on my face didn’t scratch the surface at telling how much.
He tapped me gently on the chest. “And neither are you. So, if your mind is telling you that God slipped up and might have made one giant mistake when it comes to you, remember the firefly’s butt.”
The laughter walked up behind me, wrapped around my tummy, and tickled my ribs, finally bubbling out of my mouth - taking the hurt parts with it. That’s something Unc was good at. He gave me his laughter and took my pain.
A few minutes later, Unc walked up next to me and hung his arms across the fence railing. In his hand he held an empty mason jar with holes punched in the lid. He stood there a long time turning the jar. Inside, a single lightning bug fluttered off the sides of the glass. Every five or six seconds, he’d light his lantern. Unc turned the jar in his hand. “Scientists say these things evolved this way over millions of years.” He shook his head. “That’s a bunch of bunk. I don’t think an animal can just all-of-a-sudden decide it wants to make light grow out its butt. What kind of nonsense is that? Animals don’t make light.” He pointed to the stars. “God does that. I don’t know why or how, but I’m pretty sure it’s not chance. It’s not some haphazard thing he does in his spare time.”
He looked at me, and his expression changed from one of wonder to seriousness, to absolute conviction. “Chase, I don’t believe in chance.” He held up the jar. “This is not chance, neither are the stars.”
I was hurting inside, and the streaks shining on my face didn’t scratch the surface at telling how much.
He tapped me gently on the chest. “And neither are you. So, if your mind is telling you that God slipped up and might have made one giant mistake when it comes to you, remember the firefly’s butt.”
The laughter walked up behind me, wrapped around my tummy, and tickled my ribs, finally bubbling out of my mouth - taking the hurt parts with it. That’s something Unc was good at. He gave me his laughter and took my pain.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Two Years Ago Today
Two years ago today Handsome was admitted to the hospital. He was 19 days old and wasn't growing and gaining weight like he should have. We had been monitoring his weight gain (or the lack thereof) with our pediatrician. I've never been called an optimist, but I wouldn't even allow myself to consider that his slow start might mean something serious. That night Stud and I sat in a quiet hospital room with Handsome. In the hours prior a variety of physicians had been in and out of the room, poking and prodding my little boy. We were left in silence that night to process what they wanted to rule out: metabolic disorder, undetected Down's, brain tumor.
My mom says that when something like that happens, your world gets very small. It did. I sat there in the room praying, pouring my heart out to God, begging that my son would live. The next day a feeding tube was put in my little man. Stud tried to reframe it for me and told me to pretend that he looked like a little hockey player.
Today my little man really looks like a little hockey player. He clearly has no weight gain problems now. God answered my prayers for my son. Both that I would have a second child after Sweet Pea and then that he would be brought back to full health and have life abundantly.
If you've spent anytime with my son, you'd know that whatever he does, he does it heartily.
Thank You, precious Lord, for Handsome!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Trusting the Tooth Fairy...
Sweet Pea is very eager to lose her first tooth. More specifically, she's excited about getting money from the Tooth Fairy. The other day she asked me, "Tell me again, Mama, how this Tooth Fairy thing works." I explained that once a tooth falls out she will put it under her pillow and then, in the night, the Tooth Fairy will take the tooth and leave money for her. Sweet Pea then asked, "Mama, where does the Tooth Fairy get the money?" A little distracted by Handsome I didn't bother coming up with a creative answer, I simply told her I didn't know where the Tooth Fairy got her money. Sweet Pea was quiet for a minute and then said, "Mama, I am going to hide my piggy bank in the closet."
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Handsome...
Okay. If you know Handsome, you know that one picture can't capture him. Sweet Pea? Yes - she is always sweet. Sure, there's the occasional goofy face, but she is just, as I tell her, "sweetness wrapped in skin."
Handsome? He's sweet, too. Charming, in fact. But one picture can't give you Handsome in a nutshell. So, here are a few.
Handsome? He's sweet, too. Charming, in fact. But one picture can't give you Handsome in a nutshell. So, here are a few.
Christmas Picture
I had a request for a picture of Handsome. I'm still looking for one that captures him perfectly.
Until then, here's our family Christmas shot.
Blood
Handsome hurt his foot yesterday. He came hopping into the room where I was and left puddles of blood. I picked him up and carried him to the kitchen sink, dripping big drops of blood through the house.
Sweet Pea offered to clean up the blood. I thanked her and was relieved. I thought she might freak out hearing her brother cry and seeing all the blood.
A few minutes later she came in and proudly told me that she had taken pictures of the blood with her digital camera.
hmm.
Is she collecting evidence against me?
Sweet Pea offered to clean up the blood. I thanked her and was relieved. I thought she might freak out hearing her brother cry and seeing all the blood.
A few minutes later she came in and proudly told me that she had taken pictures of the blood with her digital camera.
hmm.
Is she collecting evidence against me?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Knitting
I want to learn to knit. I have told myself that I will learn once I have taken care of printing out and scrapbooking the pictures I have taken of my kids.
The problem is that I haven't really printed out any pictures since Sweet Pea was born. We take a picture of the kids on the 7th of each month. They sit in the same chair. We watch them grow. I HAVE been faithful with this. But they all sit in my Shutterfly account.
Wanting to learn to knit has been a motivator to take care of this. (That, and a fear that I will die before they get printed out and Stud will then never find the password and my children will wonder forever what they looked like when they were young.) So, over the course of 10 days after Christmas I sized, categorized, and edited 1383 pictures on my Shutterfly account. I grouped them into folders like Handsome's Monthly Pictures, Sweet Pea's Monthly Pictures, Pregnancy with Sweet Pea, and Trip to Chicago August 2008. I finished much more quickly than I thought I would. (I even allowed myself to think about what color dishrag I would knit first.) I forked over a great deal of money to have my pictures developed, comforting myself with the thought that I had saved us a great deal of money in not having much of anything printed the first 5 years of Sweet Pea's life.
On Thursday my pictures arrived in a large box. Excitedly, I opened the first batch to see the results of my careful online editing and cataloging.
Sigh. Shutterfly doesn't print the pictures in the groupings one designates. I now have all 1383 pictures. The problem is that they aren't in their neat little groups. They've been shuffled. There's a picture of me pregnant with Sweet Pea followed by a picture of Sweet Pea on her 5th birthday followed by a picture of Handsome in the hospital.
Maybe I'll learn to knit in time to make Sweet Pea a blanket for her first baby.
The problem is that I haven't really printed out any pictures since Sweet Pea was born. We take a picture of the kids on the 7th of each month. They sit in the same chair. We watch them grow. I HAVE been faithful with this. But they all sit in my Shutterfly account.
Wanting to learn to knit has been a motivator to take care of this. (That, and a fear that I will die before they get printed out and Stud will then never find the password and my children will wonder forever what they looked like when they were young.) So, over the course of 10 days after Christmas I sized, categorized, and edited 1383 pictures on my Shutterfly account. I grouped them into folders like Handsome's Monthly Pictures, Sweet Pea's Monthly Pictures, Pregnancy with Sweet Pea, and Trip to Chicago August 2008. I finished much more quickly than I thought I would. (I even allowed myself to think about what color dishrag I would knit first.) I forked over a great deal of money to have my pictures developed, comforting myself with the thought that I had saved us a great deal of money in not having much of anything printed the first 5 years of Sweet Pea's life.
On Thursday my pictures arrived in a large box. Excitedly, I opened the first batch to see the results of my careful online editing and cataloging.
Sigh. Shutterfly doesn't print the pictures in the groupings one designates. I now have all 1383 pictures. The problem is that they aren't in their neat little groups. They've been shuffled. There's a picture of me pregnant with Sweet Pea followed by a picture of Sweet Pea on her 5th birthday followed by a picture of Handsome in the hospital.
Maybe I'll learn to knit in time to make Sweet Pea a blanket for her first baby.
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