Actually, I still do.

If you’re a parent you probably know what I’m talking about: It’s about two hours after they have made their entrance. You’re making googly with the baby. Touching their hand, touching their face, cooing at them, kissing your wife, etc.

Cell phone calls, text messages, updates to waiting relatives, nurses checking IV’s and patient status (“…please sign this….”). Doctors poking and prodding.  It isn’t until later there is time to reflect. Time to process all that has happened. 

As each of my children grow, I get to enjoy a new stage of development; in them and in me. But it’s that first year of life. that helpless, sleepless first year of each of them that is my constant companion.

With Jasmine it was carrots and laughter. We fed her so many carrots her nose started to turn orange. With Pink Pixie it was colic and tickling. she loved to be tickled. Actually she still does.Monkey boy, there was making sure the equipment was covered while you changed him. You risked a shower if you didn’t.Boys have an under developed sense of aim at that age if you know what I mean.

Here’s my list; by no means exhaustive:

After 17 years, Gem still loves me. Our house (which would make George Bailey proud) Even though they are 7 & 8, pink pixie and jasmine still want to hold my hand.

Carseats. Coffee. Jasmine in a batman costume. (very funny). Pink pixie & monkey boy still want to sit on my lap. Our new baby who is almost here.

-my country…

-…and the men and women who defend it… The freedom I enjoy to write this post. My job. My extended family. The gifts and talents God gave me. My relationship with him. Friends.

Ugh!

I keep writing, and it occurs to me I’m thankful for it all. The good and the bad. I think one of the benefits of a list is to remind us, in specific ways,  about what we’ve been given and how we have been blessed.

Not a particularly deep or provocative thought, and I’m sure you already know that. And yet, we spend so much time focusing on the bad stuff.

Not that we shouldn’t but that’s only part of the picture. The tapestry of life is is an interwoven lattice of pain and joy. Good times and bad. Failures and successes. But you already know that too.

From Psalm 42:4–

These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God, with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng…

The Psalmist goes on:

Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God…

I wonder if this guy ever made a list? I imagine he had to. My list has helped me to remember that things, as bad as they are sometimes, are still filled with moments of blessing. That the realistic picture is one of stress and pleasure. The colors of the tapestry are both gray and vivid.

And even in the face of suffering, loss, or failure, I am still the richest man in the world.

Squid

….a couple weeks ago….

….and swears the last time she had it she was in the van….

So why did I find it under the back seat IN MY TRUCK??

She blames it on pregnant brain. I’m not so sure. I mean she’s never lost one of the kids. Never forgotten where she lives. Eats regularly. Remembers her name and mine.

All while being great with child. I never lose anything. Of course that’s because she’s usually carrying it in her purse. But at least I know where my stuff is!

OK if it sounds like I’m poking fun at her expense, I am. It’s just that I rarely get the chance.

I feel so used…

Squid

Coma, broken body, bandages, infections,

…the devastating news…

One of her good friends sends me the occasional short update. Nothing specific, just asks me to pray.   “…She’s really suffering today; please say a special prayer for her…” 

You bet I will!

How do you describe…? How do you survive? For that matter how do you be after this?? I pride myself as something of a wordsmith but this?!…

Words fail me.

As I write this its 2:00 in the morning. My son just woke up; A little whimper and some calling out for mommy. Let me tell you I have a whole new perspective on those sounds….

…and still, words fail me…

Tell you what, let’s use hers.  

She writes: “… I’m praying from my pit this very second, God, please lead me. Help me. Guide me. Lift me out of this scary pit. Just get me through today. Get me through this very minute. Step by step. Day by Day. Your Grace IS sufficient, even if I don’t feel it…”

Wait a minute; I think I have a word:

Courage.

Raw, unyielding, unrelenting, tough, uncompromising courage.

Here is someone climbing the inside of the spiritual, emotional, and psychological equivalent of a 100 foot abandoned well, inch by bloody, dirty inch. No reliable foothold, with a seventy pound weight on her back. Climbing toward a blurry speck of light; a pinpoint of hope….

….and I continue to pray that she will continue to climb; but could we honestly blame her if she didn’t? After all, what’s left? How many of us would have the courage to continue on as she has?

How many of us have ever faced what she has? I’m sure a lot of people out there have.

I haven’t, and I pray I never do.  

“….I spent yesterday knelt by the graveside of those I love most: my precious baby girls. I’ll admit-I cried, actually I sobbed, I stomped my feet and got angry with God-and then I realized that wasn’t bringing my babies back. I realized that though I’m far worse than I ever thought possible, God’s Grace is still greater that I can imagine. Of course, it doesn’t take away the hurt of having my babies no longer with me. I still have a lot to deal with-most of it I’ve been “putting-off” for a day when I can really let loose and cry it out..” 

Hugging a headstone is an awful substitute for holding your little one who needs their diaper changed…

“….I want OUT of these dark days. The days where I can’t imagine things ever being different. These days where my Faith is cold, when God is silent. The days when I forget what that hope looks like and all I can do is cry…not even able to pray. God, remind me daily what a mighty fortress you are!..”

Courage. And I think something else.

It occurs to me this is someone with an authentic relationship with God. Not just the sweetness and light, but the anguish, the misery and the pain.

There is a mood of truth and an honesty in her words. It’s as if she is reaching out to help us understand what is happening in these holy moments. Allowing us to glimpse her soul now enveloped in a complex mix of sorrow, despair, hope, and divine presence.

No sugar coating. No soft chewy center…

…but no retreat or surrender either.

“….I have been in a really scary pit lately, clawing to survive-but thank you God for sending people into my life who have been willing to hop into the pit with me and hold me until I’m able to see that Jesus is in the pit with us both and will eventually redeem me from this pit-maybe not today or tomorrow, but in his perfect timing….”

I believe we are simultaneously blessed and admonished by her testimony; the taste of which is so palpable it stings the back of your throat. And it occurs to me that I’ve been praying more for my own benefit than for hers; that the hope she seeks will be there for her in her moment of greatest need. And that her hope is MY hope. Please God, do not abandon her…don’t abandon me!

Which brings me to my last word: Knowledge.

Her tragedy has revealed something to her, or rather brought it more clearly into focus. She knows, not in a see-through-the-glass-darkly sort of way, but in a doubting Thomas, all-the-way-to-your-bones-till-they-hurt way.

And while part of me bolts for the door at the sight of her suffering, another part of me covets, ever so slightly, the knowledge she now enjoys. Knowledge she couldn’t deny if she tried. Knowledge she so eloquently explains.

And so I leave you with her words:

“…I do know God and I’m known by him and as hard as this is for me to say and it makes tears well up in my eyes right now…I know that whatever my lot-even at first, I cry…it IS well, it is well with my soul. …

…I believe in GRACE because I’ve seen it…

…I believe in PEACE because I’ve felt it…

…and I believe in FORGIVENESS because I’ve needed it….”

Squid 

“Power over me” Mr. Mister (go on… @1987)

It’s about to happen again. 60 days to go. Here it  comes! No place to hide.

How do you stand against the waves? Big or small, fast or slow they always wash over you and leave their mark on the beach of your life. You are left with the effects of their power and influence. Scanning the beach, you search for any semblance of what was there a short time ago….

…nope, all gone.

It’s happened before. The first time it was a surprise. The second time was sooner than expected. The third time, planned for and knew it was coming. The fourth time…well the fourth time didn’t happen.

“….this is the power over me. I’m rendered helpless. You’ve got me on my knees….”

The wave is about to crest. Wet, blue, undulating curve and white foam. I know what’s coming next: I end up soaked and toes over nose. No choice but to go with it. Even if I were to somehow figure out a way to resist, It would still knock me over.

Doesn’t hurt though. Never has. After scooping me up, there’s this sweet floating sensation, almost like a cradle or hammock. Then, I’m gently laid out on the beach as the wave subsides.

And when it’s over, I start breathing again; there’s this burst of joy. I sob like a baby. I cry until I can’t cry anymore.

“…I sit and watch you sleep, as you dream your dangerous dreams. I feel the healing heat, as the inner voices scream….”

It’s a little girl. And she’s due November 30th. I haven’t met her yet. But I’m drawn to her and can’t look away. And it was this way with the other three too. 

 I think it goes without saying that having children means changes. But watching your wife give birth, to me that’s profound.

From the moment she says:”…I think that was a contraction…” through the check-in at the hospital, the ice chips and the IV’s, the ever increasing intensity of labor, the sweat, pain and tears,

…to the the moment you see your baby for the first time…

I remember the moment each one of my children first drew breath. I was there. I saw it happen.

CRASH!!

The wave hits me. I’m toes over nose. Soaked in the moment, holding my breath…

…breathe baby girl…

…breathe Squid….

…breathe baby girl….

…breathe Squid….

….breathe baby boy…

….breathe Squid….

Everything’s fine. APGAR score is normal; they’re pink and warm. OK, the wave has subsided, now I can breathe.

One note here for female readers: I don’t pretend to equate what happens in me through this process with what you go through.

As emotionally intense as watching my wife give birth is for me, my moments for release have always come after.  My personality has always made me good in emergency and intense situations. I can usually process through the event(s) after the fact. I think I get that from my mother.

When I know things are OK with Gem and the baby, that’s my moment.

Wave’s gone now, beach is somehow different. It looks cleaner and messier at the same time. The sun is shining and the breeze is beginning to dry me off….

…and I can’t stop crying…

Next time, I want a surfboard!

Squid

Squid

Thanks mom, check’s in the mail….

Squid

Good Grief how they look like her!

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to attend my funeral. She was supposed to sit beside my family. After all, I’m older than she is.

It’s all upside down.

It wasn’t supposed to be cancer. She took care of herself. And she was a health professional; She knew the signs and would have done something about them. She did do something about them.

Rewind 25 years.

Church parking lot. Mid fall, Sunday night after services. The breeze has that crisp feeling that makes you feel alive without feeling frozen. Rustling leaves and car headlights.

And there she is……

Most of the church youth group are headed to her house to hang out. Her folks are doing a fire in the fire place. Hot chocolate and cider.

“You want to come over? You really should come over.”

“Sure. How do I get there?”

“Well, I can draw you a map or you can ride with me”

And that’s how I met Brenda.

We never dated. Weren’t girlfriend & boyfriend. That wasn’t who we were with each other. She actually dated and almost married my roomate G-dog.

But the three of us: Brenda, G-dog, and I hung out alot. And for the next 9 years we were in each other’s lives on a daily basis. She, her mom & dad helped me through some pretty hard times in that stretch. When she was accepted to Harding University, G-dog, by now her steady boyfriend, went as well. I followed a year and a half later.

College friendships are the best. There’s time to sit & savor. Between football games, social club events and late night study sessions, there’s the hanging out.

Moments to laugh. Moments to prank. Moments to talk. Moments to just be…..

Moments frozen in time.

And I shared alot of those moments with Brenda & G-dog. You almost get the feeling it will never end.

Graduation. Spring, 1990. G-dog’s headed back to Michigan. He has a computer programming job there. I have another year and a half to go. And I’m getting married in September.

Brenda’s going to be around the university for awhile. She’s met somebody. He’s career army….

As often happens, life takes us in different directions. We talk occasionally over the years. The yearly Christmas letters. Her husband’s been stationed to a new post so time to move again. Pics of her and the family. I see her and her husband again at her sister’s wedding. It’s the last time I see her alive.

Fastforward to last Wednesday.

Her husband calls. Brenda died this morning. He’ll call later with funeral arrangements, but wanted us to know.Saturday G-dog and I make the trip from Michigan to Kentucky. Six and a half hours each way. We catch up. Reminisce. Remember. At the funeral, we see old friends. More like extended family really.

…And we say our goodbyes….

Her favorite hymns and praise songs. Prayer, video and encouraging words.

Joy and grief at the same time.

I guess this is a eulogy. A memorial to someone who was more than a friend. She had a way of reminding you who you were and whose you were and encouraging you at the same time. She had an unshakable faith. And she backed it up with action. She was always on the move. Making plans and following through. She was tireless.

I could go on. But I can hear her saying “Oh pu-LEEZ! Shut up already!”

I hate saying goodbye. See you again will have to do.

Squid

While you’re at it check out Shoutlife. It’s social networking site much like myspace, but with a distinctly different vibe. (read: positive, Christian) I’ve met some interesting people on Shoutlife (including Marty & his wife, Trina) had some interesting conversations with people from all over the country, and been able to pray with and for some of them.

And of course, there’s the music. Artists of every stripe with music to share. If you’re looking for a place to network online without a lot of crap, I recommend Shoutlife. My wife and I have enjoyed it.

Squid

God has blessed in so many ways.

First: If you haven’t seen the blue stick on Jema’s blog, well yeah…she’s pregnant.

Again.

It’s a girl and we’re thinking of naming her Fiona Colleen.

Yeah, I can already hear the Shrek jokes. Guess what…DON’T CARE! I like the name.  

Second: I’ve been working 2 jobs. Yes, that’s a blessing. With so many people facing layoffs and downsizing in Michigan right now, I have 2 avenues of income. We’re keeping the house, keeping the lights on and food on the table. Yeah, God has blessed.

Thank you God!!

Third : the appraisal on our house went better than we expected or hoped. We spent about 2 weeks prepping the house and praying over the process. The appraisal came in 9 ½ % higher than we thought.

Fourth: My situation at WDIV has changed for the better; at least for now. One of our technicians recently retired and that opened up some potential full time slots.

While I enjoy a certain amount of freedom as a contractor for the best darn TV station in Michigan, the draw of a consistent schedule and 40 hours a week is VERY appealing. The GM of WDIV has to sign off on the deal. Please pray that he does.

In retrospect, I believe God has heard the prayers of His people for me. If that includes you, thank you….from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know where I would be right now if not for your intercession on our behalf.

I think that qualifies as blessing #5.

My good preacher friend Mark sends out a daily Bible reading email.

This is the post for today: 

From Psalm 94:18-19:

18 When I said, “My foot is slipping,”
       your love, O LORD, supported me.

19 When anxiety was great within me,
       your consolation brought joy to my soul.

Right now I am enjoying a cup of coffee with Jema and writing this post. My son is thumbing through a Spiderman book he got from the library. He’s telling me about all the “villains and bad guys”.

Absolutely wonderful…..

I am enjoying a moment created by the providence of God and resting in his concern for me.  

Thank you God…..from the bottom of my heart.

Squid