Love Is A Choice

If last week God was reminding me that life is not about easy, this weekend He was hammering home that I need to appreciate the difficult.

I'm almost done reading Elizabeth Prentiss's classic Stepping Heavenward. In it, the heroine (Katy) finds herself suddenly forced to live with people who do not agree with or understand her. She grieves that they tempt her to sin, that they sully the atmosphere. She hopes and prays they will leave. Until she realizes that God has brought them into her home for a reason. They may need her, but more certainly, her character needs the refining they inadvertently provide.

Yesterday our Sunday school teacher talked about King David's selfless decision to love Mephibosheth, the only man who could rightfully challenge David's kingship, and a stranger who had every right to be bitter and jealous of David. In other words, David invited someone who could be very problematic for him to take up permanent residence in his house.

In both cases, it would be easy to focus on getting rid of these "problems." Katy could have campaigned to oust her unwanted relatives. David's followers would gladly have eliminated Mephibosheth (as they had other challengers to the throne). And the world would -- does -- tell me to cut out people I find difficult: If they don't make me feel good, I don't need them. I need to have boundaries. I need to protect myself. I need...

But frankly, I don't really know what I need, and I often don't like what's good for me. I'd rather try to fix you (who I can't control) than fix me (who I can).

Rachel Jankovic likes to say she was a much better Christian before she had children. What she means is that it was easier to act like a Christian before she had someone constantly testing her character, challenging her to grow, exposing the sin hidden in her heart. As our pastor said Sunday, if we want the character of Job, we need the experience of Job: "I can live a charmed and comfortable, cozy life, but it's going to cost me. I will be shallow, superficial, and self-centered. Character is formed--character is forged--through hardship." It is the difficulties that can soften, strengthen, and mold us to be more like Christ.

My life is cushy and my family is ridiculously easy to get along with, so I felt pretty good about myself when I first started thinking about this. Then I remembered the things that bug me, the pet peeves that fester, the issues that make me feel superior or condescending to others. I have a loooong way to go.

Rather than being dismissive or nagging, trying to conform others to my expectations, perhaps it's time I sat back and thought more about Why has God brought this person or issue into my life? What is He trying to teach me? What sin is it revealing in my heart? How does He want me to respond?

NOTE: I'm sure it's no coincidence that our pastor has recently preached on "God Loves Inappropriate People," "God Loves People Who Are Not Like Us" and today "God Loves Sufferers." Someday, I'll get the message... ;)

Just As They Are

There are few things parents worry about more than development. When should they...crawl? eat? talk? walk? go to kindergarten? see a movie? have a sleepover? pay rent? ;)

We have felt incredibly fortunate that both of our boys arrived healthy and beautiful. They have ridden the very bottom of the weight curve and the end of the motor curve, but they're bright and social and adaptable and developing visibly before our eyes. We know their "normalness" has made our lives--and their lives--easier.

But I am in the process of learning an important lesson about that. It probably started a couple years ago when Bryan Chapell preached at our church. From what I remember, he said that when his wife was pregnant, lots of folks wished them "a healthy baby!" I catch myself saying we don't care about the gender "so long as it's healthy!" But Chapell wondered, "Why the prejudice toward health? What if it's not healthy? Aren't we still going to love and cherish this child and do everything we can for it?"

Life is easier without illness or obstacles. But since when has life been about easier? I don't have kids to make my life easier (trust me!). I have kids because life is a blessing from God. And that has nothing to do with how healthy or talented or beautiful we are. I love my children as God made them. Period.

So why do I forget this when I look at other families and see a child with Downs or Aspergers or any other challenge? Until recently, I'm not sure I ever really thought through what it must be like to parent a child with obvious disabilities. Not the extra work or difficulty - I thought plenty about that. But to feel the same love and joy in the precious life God has put into your care regardless of how that child "performs."

As usual, God has been teaching me this lesson very gently. Last fall, we started noticing that Aaron was not keeping pace with the verbal milestones set for 2-year-olds. By December, I decided to call Tennessee Early Intervention Services for an evaluation. In January, he qualified for therapy which began in February and has continued twice weekly ever since.

I've been very hesitant to write about this, because I don't want to give the impression that Aaron is any less bright and social and vibrant than he is. If you've spent any time with him, you know this already. And I have been very thankful to be told again and again that where he is delayed, he will catch up soon, and there should not be any long-lasting issues. Speech therapy is incredibly common and one couldn't pick out the recipients in a kindergarten class, let alone in college.

But between Aaron's early evaluations and our early pregnancy tests, I have glimpsed the possibility of parenting a child with long-term disabilities in a more intimate way than I ever had before -- without having to face the reality of it (all the tests for both came back clear of any serious diagnoses). That peek into another reality has helped me see that I believe we would love our kids just as much regardless of the outcome. Their value to us is not in their utility or performance. We just want them to be who God made them to be. Nothing more. Nothing less.

So as I'm interacting with other children, I want to think that way. I want to remember that they are each precious, that God has a unique plan for each of them, and I am free to love them just as they are. No comparisons, just appreciation.

"But what happens when we live God's way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart...Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original." -- Galatians 5:22-26 (excerpts from The Message)

Charleston Babymoon

London was our last big hurrah before baby #3...until we realized we could squeeze in one more getaway before our domestic commitments multiply this summer. So we hopped on SWA's cheap, direct flights for a long weekend in Charleston. And really--looking at these pictures--who needs an excuse anyway?

Like with any romanticized city, it takes me a little while to see past the cracked sidewalks and "citiness" of the place, but as you can see, I found Charleston's charm lurking "south of Broad:" 5ft-wide garden alleys, colorful 18th-c colonials, greco-roman churches, hedges of honeysuckle, grassy swamps... It all gave the historic district a distinctive flavor -- one that reminded me of New Orleans (without the sense of humor).

As with any good babymoon, our trip involved lots of good food for this pregnant momma. Insider tips from Josh's parents led us to Jestine's Kitchen (a cozy meat & 3 with a line down the block), The Wreck of the Richard & Charlene (hidden in a neighborhood with barely a front door but awesome food & views of the harbor), and Hominy Grill (chic Southern comfort).

Yes, we ate all of this and then some. Best scallops and friend green tomatoes (Wreck), shrimp & grits and mashed sweet potatoes (Hominy), and cornbread and coca-cola cake (Jestine's) I've ever had. Though I must admit, I was grateful for cereal each morning and craving a simple salad by the time we left (a craving which sadly didn't last very long - hello big-bellied sweet tooth!).

Between meals, we visited the 24,000-sq-ft Calhoun mansion for a tour. They don't allow interior pictures anymore, so I grabbed a few off Google -- all of which are a few years old for good reason. The current owners are "collectors" (read "hoarders") and have filled every square inch of the house (where they somehow manage to live when strangers aren't touring their bedrooms) with Victorian stuff of every shape and size. It's ornate, impressive, gaudy, overwhelming, and worth a large fortune, I'm sure. Josh and I both came away thankful to live in our house.

Our new house! Just kidding. But seriously, we saw this unique design all over the peninsula so I grabbed a few examples with my camera. Big porches that run the length of the side of the house? A front door that opens onto a porch? They're beautiful but in their own, odd, Lemony-Snickety way.

As you may have guessed, we left our picky little eaters behind to play with their friend Jack and his momma. But don't feel sorry for them. They'd take Chick-fil-a over Charleston's best fare any day. It was definitely a win-win weekend.

Spring Break 2012

We're not in the habit of planning "spring break" trips yet, since we don't plan around the minimalist preschool calendar. But this year, the week leading up to Easter gradually turned into a precious week away for our family.

It all started with my pregnancy. Getting to my parents' house in Florida with two little boys is no small task, but it's about to get a lot harder in July. So months ago, we booked a trip to see Mom and Dad in March. Soon several conflicts arose, and we decided to bump it back to the only other option: Easter weekend (April 4-8).

Then, March came and the news of Mom's breast cancer, followed by her surgery date: Monday, April 2nd. I am convinced God postponed our trip so it would coincide with this unexpected development. I was able to fly down April 1st and be with my parents during the surgery and recovery. Then, Josh and the boys joined us later in the week.

It worked out beautifully. First and foremost, Mom is doing great. So many of you have asked, prayed, and encouraged us over the past few weeks, and we all appreciate it. We don't yet know the results of the surgery (if they got it all, if the cancer has spread, if she'll need chemo), but we are so thankful that she was at an excellent center and her recovery has been uneventful.

It was also freeing to see this diagnosis is not dominating their lives right now. We had great conversations over good food while I was alone with them, and then a fun-filled visit once the boys came. We all took full advantage of their FL habitat, Mom let me unleash some of my nesting energies on her house, and we ended the week with one of my favorite holidays, celebrating the hope we have in Christ. A few snapshots from the week...

A giant sandbox with water, shells, and snacks? Noah was in heaven. Aaron was fascinated people-watching, and given the menagerie at the beach, I don't blame him.

The Imaginarium Hands-On Museum and Aquarium was perfect for our boys: touching reptiles, panning for gold, shooting pirates, exploring a bee hive, reporting from the moon...Noah started asking to go back before we left the building.

 

Swimming, playing with new toys, eating favorite foods, swimming, watching golf with Papa, sleeping, drinking juice, hunting Easter eggs, swimming some more -- both boys were sad to leave. Then again, so were Josh and I. May have to give it a shot with an infant after all. :)

Spring Training

Judging from Noah's energy level this winter (and the resulting state of our couch cushions), I knew it was time for him to pick up a sport, so we enrolled him in spring baseball. The 4-5-yr-old league meets 1 hour/week: 3 weeks of practice followed by 8 weeks of games (where they don't keep score). It's a great learning experience for him - and entertainment for us.

The coach started the season walking the cluster of boys from plate to plate ("This is home plate...This is first base"). It was a nice effort, but the best part was seeing that whenever someone actually hit the ball, the rest of the team was ready to run in random directions. And did. Unless they were playing in the dirt at the time. At one point, the basemen all started running to the next base when the batter made a hit. Such great intentions. You just gotta love it. Since then they've made admirable progress, leading up to the first big game today...

Right field was Daddy's position too!

Coach pitches 4 times, then they bat off the T

And he's off!

The 1:1 parent-player ratio on the field (displayed above) did not always prevent the hitters from running straight to 3rd or carrying the bat from base to base, thank goodness.

Relaxing in the shade of the dugout (while the parents and siblings sweltered in the sun, and it's only March!?)

Go Astros!

And the real reason we came. If there were no juice, there would be no baseball in my son's world.

I found out this morning that Josh's great grandpa was a starting pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds. Right now, Noah's just focused on playing till he's six, as he desperately wants them to "use a scoreboard" so he can win. He wasn't buying any of my "you've won if you did your best." Today they played a team in purple, so he told me that he doesn't like purple and they were probably the British (his perpetual bad guys ever since he discovered the revolutionary war). Sounds like sportsmanship (and diplomacy?) will be another lesson in our future. Go team!

Spring Update: The A-Man

At two-and-a-half, Aaron is as playful, cuddly, and fun-loving as ever. He loves to "read," sit together, play with cars and trucks, watch "Pooh Bear!", tell elaborate stories with inflections and hand motions (none of which we understand), swing outside, wear outrageous hats, dance to the radio, mimic his big brother, and get his own way. He is a joy in our home. Especially when he's getting his way. Here are a few snapshots from his spring...

Aaron's 2-yr-old spring program = standing on stage while music is played. He did it so well.

My favorite moment. Aaron's the one looking up. Can't you just imagine him hoping E.T. is gonna take him home?

I moved utensils down a drawer so the boys can get their own...

Taking Pooh to church (apparently he really needs it).

The things a dad will do for love...

Our little redneck, riding in the back of a pickup.

If he likes it, he could eat a house, that boy. Wednesday night at church, he ate his spaghetti, my spaghetti, and some of Daddy's. The church ladies gave me more for free out of sympathy and amusement (they couldn't stop talking about the 2-yr-old who ate 3 plates. 3 plates!).

My pea in a pod - or at least one of them.

Pointing out every step and door and grate as we walk through town. Very helpful.

They're stuck! (at the nose)

Best. Purchase. Ever.

Sleep Out #1

Noah has been dreaming of a "sleep out" for months.  He talks about the food campers eat, the tools they need, "pinching tents," and the ninjas/pirates/porcupines which may or may not be involved.

The weather had finally leveled off at warm evening temperatures, and Josh was back home this weekend after what felt like weeks of travel, so Noah and I spent last week preparing for the big night: we bought a fire pit, real wood (at the grocery store - we only take authenticity so far), and s'mores ingredients and borrowed a tent from neighbors. The forecast predicted 60's and sunny.

Saturday dawned in the 50s and rainy. Then it cleared. Then it stormed. It was an emotional roller-coaster for our little (un)happy camper. By nightfall, it was clear and cold (for the first time in weeks!), so we plowed ahead.

Some of our favorite people joined us to kick off the big event - my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews (who Noah worships). We lit our first backyard fire, tried to convince Aaron it's not just pretty, and roasted marshmallows. Once sufficiently pumped full of sugar and wreaking of wood smoke, we sent the beloved cousins home. It was the moment of truth. My sweet husband and the mighty camper changed into warm, comfy clothes and marched out to their 5' x 6' tent (which bore a startling resemblance to a 3' x 4' igloo). They read Peter Rabbit by flashlight, and then curled up--literally--to sleep.

Until 2am, when Noah said, "I'm cold. I want to go in." Minutes later, as he groggily climbed into bed, he told Josh, "I'm only happy in my bed."

But the next morning, he was already talking about how his cool cousin Wesley has camped far away, in the woods. I suppose it's a good thing that his love for all things Wesley trumps his love for a warm bed...

Either way, I'm thankful this baby bump and chauvinistic historical stereotypes give me excellent excuses to let Daddy take the lead on this and all future "sleep outs" - as I'm guessing there will be many.