"Transition"

Tonight I am home alone with no TV. We haven't had a TV for almost two years now. I rarely miss it. I do tonight. I don't have the physical energy to do the dishes, nor the mental energy to read one of the books I'm in the middle of (mostly books about parenting or faith, or both). I don't have any fiction to pick up and devour. I can't go for a drive because Bright is asleep in his room and Daniel is up at Heritage preparing for tomorrow's sermon. I don't have the peace of mind to go to sleep. I don't have the emotional energy to journal or work on my book. I haven't the room in my very pregnant stomach to eat. I don't even have anything to say in a blog (though blogging is what I've finally conceded to do, after listening to K-Love radio and crying my way through a few songs. Every pregnant woman needs a good cry now and then). Daniel and I have realized that we are in the middle of a test, or rather he is, and I am being tested at my ability to support him, come heck or high water. Our dream - the one we've been chasing for six years - seems to be constantly eluding us. We find ourselves yet again in another "transition," waiting on the next step. Waiting on our REAL life to begin. Meanwhile, life is happening, and we are at a great risk of missing it. Will we ever be what we thought we would be, back in college when I was planning our wedding and Daniel was planning our part in changing the world? Maybe. But I have a feeling we are going to have to learn about changing ourselves first. And that is the test we are taking now, the test I am taking tonight, in this tiny apartment, alone. Wish me luck.

It is well with my soul

Today there was a guest speaker at Heritage. A man who's tiny son died this winter after falling into a frozen pond. You may have heard about it. The story made the national news. The amazing thing was, the boy was under the ice for a good part of the day. When he was finally found, his body temperature had dropped so low that his life had been preserved, even though he hadn't taken a breath in hours. He was rushed to the hospital where he was later pronounced dead...but then he took two breaths on his own! He had come alive again. He would only live for two more weeks.

The story is gut-wrenching. I could barely stand to listen to it on the news. And there, in front of me, was the boy's father, talking about the sovereignty of the Father and how trustworthy He is in our darkest hours. I realized how stupid I've been of late - complaining about this and that, wondering what the next step is for us and why He doesn't seem to be talking to us right now. As I listened to this man speak this morning, my own tiny son played happily in the nursery down the hall.
When the service was over, the worship team took the stage. I bowed my head and sang along, feeling like a single grain of sand on the beaches of humanity. Isn't that, after all, what I am? Then why do I spend so much time concerned about this single grain? We sang, "My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the L0rd, praise the L0rd, O my soul! It is well, with my soul, It is well, with my soul, It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Reflections on Pneumonia

Pneumonia, it's really just an infection in your lungs, but it makes one think. Much coughing is not good for a man. Neither is too much time spent on the couch. As I sit here, age 27, in the prime of my life, possibly in the best health I've ever been in, I'm confronted with the reality that my body really is more fragile than I would like to believe.

Yesterday, my son, who will undoubtedly someday think of himself as invincible as well, stood in the doorway of my quarantined room and said, "Daddy sick. P'ay for him." He promptly clasped his hands and bowing my head, I followed suit. You see when we adults bow our heads, most of the time we don't really think anything will happen. But when a two year old boldly approaches the throne he expects answers.

Often before or after a prayer, Bright will remind us of the time "He healed the car." On our way to our first family vacation, the Olds started acting up (surprise, surprise...) and we didn't know if we should turn around or not. We pulled over and we all prayed that He would heal the car. He did, and Bright has not forgotten.

One of our many fun destinations on "Family 'cation!", as Bright called it.

So... from across the room, with hands firmly clasped, and his little head nodding in affirmation, I hear my little man say, "Please make Daddy feel better."

Daddy's Boy

I can't believe it but my son is now (well actually tomorrow) 2 years old! He really is turning into a big boy. He says full sentences. He has his own opinions. He would like to do very specific things: "Ready go hunting, momma stay home." "Go outside, throw rocks in the creek." Or, like we heard over the monitor last night around 10 pm, in a deeply distressed voice "Wanna cookie... Wanna cookie..." He can hoot like an owl, cut like a turkey, and if you ask him to "Keep your eyes out for deer" he will blink very frequently and with great focus lean his head forward as if by straining the deer will be forced to appear. He wears his big boy backpack that he got at his birthday party. It's filled with all the things a young man needs at his disposal: multiple bulldozers, race cars, helicopters, trains, and balls.

Like in Wilmore, we have a train that just about goes through our living room every day. Therefore, he loves trains. A couple of weeks ago, Kayla took him to the zoo and after a day of seeing exotic animals from all over the world the one thing he remembered was riding the kiddy train around the park.


I can't imagine what it will be like to have two boys. Camping, hunting, hiking, throwing all kinds of things, burning all kinds of things, killing and eating all kinds of things. Basically, I love being a father. I'd love to have a daughter one day if He wills. But, if all I ever recieve is little boys, I will enjoy every day of watching and helping them become men. Someday, I hope that they will become Oaks of righteousness. But for now, it is just the beginning of Spring and we have two little seedlings on our hands.

A man's world

It just dawned on me the other day that I will soon be living in a house of men. How funny to be the only female in a family of four. At first, perhaps, it won't strike me much. Two of those men, after all, will still need to be tucked into diapers. But what will it be like in 13 years when I am cooking for three men? How will I keep the bathroom toilet clean? I still remember the smell of my brothers' bedroom growing up. No matter how hard Mom tried, she couldn't keep the dirty socks, pitted-out T-shirts, and sweaty football pads from making their presence known. But truthfully, I am thrilled about having two sons. I can't wait to make them their favorite dinner when they've had a bad day, or write them little notes and tuck them under their pillows. I can't wait to run my fingers through their shaggy, teenage hair when they're sick on the couch. I've already been restrained by Daniel when I've reached for Bright after he's fallen down. It's so hard to let him hurt, but I can see that overmothering him would hurt him worse in the long run. I'm so thankful they will have a dad to keep me from unwrapping too many bandaids and telling-off too many ex-girlfriends. Daniel is an amazing dad. I will count myself blessed to share my home and my life with these three men.