taking a look

Eden is now over two weeks old and we've finished our first "normal" week together. The only thing to add now is making our own meals, thanks to the people from our church! We have been blessed to receive dinner delivered to our door most every night, which means I've had time to take the kids out in the afternoons instead of staring blankly into my refrigerator wondering what to make. It also has saved us a good deal of grocery money, which is helpful as Pat took time off work to be home with us in the beginning. If you're reading this and helped out, THANKS!

I've been surprised by how normal life feels already. I remember experiencing a similar time with Israel -- the time when he would sleep or not sleep anywhere and everywhere and life could go on pretty much as it had been, adding in pauses for feedings and diaper changes. (Oh, and laundry...oh...laundry.) God knew what He was doing in making newborns sleep so much; it gives you time to get used to the idea of having them around. At any rate, during this same time of Israel's life, I remember going out and visiting people and feeling like I could just strap on my kid and go. I had a resolve about me to continue my adult life and to be a good "housewife," complete with clean house and dinner on the stove by 5:00. I'm in that phase now with Eden. But this time I know it is a phase that will end as soon as I fully realize I'm tired. I am not as good at doing everything as I have been this week, and I'm sure this sort of extra-good behaviour of mine is accounted for in the medical/psychological fields somewhere. I'll bask in it while I'm in it and enjoy the stacks of neatly folded laundry while they exist.

This last week has held more than its share of deja vu as I wonder often, "What did I do when Israel was this age?" and find myself doing some thing or other and realize, "Yeah, this feels familiar." Her tininess is familiar. Her eating habits are familiar. Moving the bouncy seat around the house as I work during the day is familiar. Wrapping her in a blanket is familiar, as is holding a bink in her mouth when she's overtired and trying to sleep. People have asked if I can tell anything about her personality yet, and I'm sure that I can. While much is the same, I can tell you she is different in temperament than Israel. I can't yet put words to how. I know I'll recognize the right word when I run across it, though, and then I'll share it with you. I'll think, "Yes! That's exactly the right description of her specifically!" and then I'll wait to see if God agrees with me when He gives her that white stone with her specific name on it.

She does like to keep herself busy during her waking hours, that's for sure. She grunts as if making great efforts (to do...what?) while sitting in her bouncy seat. Her vocalization has earned her the nickname "Squeaker" from me, as she will squeak and grunt for hours on end (this morning from 6:30 am to 8:00 am...) about nothing at all. She stares wide-eyed at the rings dangling in front of her. She screams for her bink so she can have an object within her control after she's been up for 15-20 minutes. She never screams for long periods of time, and that is different from her brother (thankfully!). She will let out a few squawks here and there and then sit and grunt, as if trying to take care of it herself while she waits for me to fix the situation. Her gaze is pretty intense, which is like her brother's was at this age. I don't know if that's common to all newborns or mine in particular, but I have a hard time believing any child of mine could miss inheriting some amount of intensity. Here. You can see for yourself.

(This may be a pretty accurate depiction of how she feels about bath time.
"I'm afraid to really like this....")

Now that we have solved some of our computer problems, I should be able to download pictures a bit more often, though I won't promise I'll be able to post more often from here on out!

Happy (on) St. Patrick's Day!

Happy (belated) St. Patrick's day!

Wow. That tired me right out!

St. Patrick's Day is a holiday our little family loves to celebrate. What else would you expect when the "man of the house" is named Michael Patrick McCrory? It has become a tradition of ours to make some Irish fare (usually some form of lamb, potatoes, a green vegetable, and scones or Irish soda bread) and have friends over to share the meal with us. But just because that tradition took a day off this year doesn't mean we didn't celebrate in smaller ways. The kids and I donned whatever green clothing fit us that day (which is tricky for all of us right now, as Israel suddenly outgrew all his clothes last week and Eden is still too small for most of the clothes we have for her and I'm...well...in-between sizes) and did our best to be worthy of the name McCrory on the very Irish day.

Eden had quite the social day, beginning with an 8:30 am visit to the pediatrician to be weighed. I have been telling people she eats "like a champ," but the doctor (who is not our normal doctor) seemed to really believe me when they saw that she has gained 5 oz. in the last three days -- enough to already surpass her birth weight. No more questions about her eating habits! Woo hoo! From there, we went to visit Mabrey, our midwife, so she could see the fruits of her (my) labor. We went to visit the law office (my former place of employment) that afternoon. It's always fun to introduce a new baby to friends and we had a good time making some rounds.

That evening, I took advantage of having both Pat and my mom aroung to help with the kids to do something normal, like make dinner. Pat had Israel outside (which is now his favorite place, with the recent good weather...) to work in what will be our garden and mom and I made a scaled-down Irish meal: shepherd's pie and your choice of root beer or ginger ale. We all had fun getting our hands dirty -- some of us had "dirt"ier hands than others -- and we all sat around the table together for dinner. Afterwards, we went on a walk in, you guessed it, our DOUBLE STROLLER. Israel really liked it as long as it was moving and Eden thought it was comfortable enough to sleep in. (Okay, that's not saying much.)


It was a good day: outdoors, visiting friends, making a holiday meal, wearing my favorite color. I doubt every day from here on out will feel quite as relaxed as this one, but I am greatly enjoying having no commitments other than those I make "the day of." Why do I have to give birth to have relaxed time commitments? It seems to me that people should be able to call a family holiday for other occasions or no occasion at all -- something of a mini-sabatical so that they can rest and remember who they are and build family memories together. I'm doing my best to enjoy it now, because, as I know somewhat first-hand and as friends and strangers further down this path constantly tell me, times like these are

going,

going...

...gone.

small things and big deals

I am emerging from the "What day is it, again?" fog that falls over the days just following giving birth. Things have settled down a bit from the initial excitement (not that we're not still excited...) and craze and we're setting about getting to know each other. We get to know the little details about ourselves we did not know before -- things like when is the best time to change a diaper and how Israel can not feel powerless when Eden cries and what words are best for Pat and I to use when there is not space for discussion "away" from the situation. Of course, most of this revolves around Eden, who has discovered about herself that she can, indeed, scream. Thankfully, she limits herself to 1-3 loud screams at a time (cranking it to 11 rather suddenly and diminishing almost as fast) and only when she's being taught how to put herself to sleep for the most part. Israel no longer insists on touching her every moment of the day and, for my part, I'm glad that aspect of her novelty has worn off; he is an aggressive lover. He also sleeps straight through her "I'm waking up...waking up...food.... FOOD!" in the middle of the night. I'm grateful for that as well. I just was able to put both kiddos down for a nap and the house is quiet. I've not gone insane yet and am catching up on sleep. (Don't look at me, though. It's nearly 1:00 and I'm still in my PJ's.) I'm starting to get a feel for how things may go once my mom leaves and it's just the four of us here (or the three of us during the day). It involves the house looking abandoned in the short-term, I think, and me putting my multi-tasking skills to work during all waking hours.

I am strangely anxious to do more as a family now that we are four. Perhaps it's because I'm from a family of four that now we feel more like an official family or maybe it's because we now constitute full vehicle all on our own. Regardless, I am finding myself a bit excited about the challenges of doing small things together -- going grocery shopping, to the park, etc. We went on a little trip to the park down the street yesterday to take advantage of the nice weather. The three adults took turns with Israel, Eden, and the dog. A good time was had by all, I think...especially Israel and the dog, who is contentedly napping on the floor for the first time in weeks.

When I was a kid, I remember something like going to the park being a BIG deal. Not that we were deprived of outdoor activity the rest of our days, but a day involving the park was quite a treat. I watched Israel running around the equipment yesterday and Eden taking in the sunlight and the light breeze and thought about what a big place the little park must seem to them and how different and special it is compared to the strip of grass we call our back yard. Being there is no small thing for me, too, now that I'm somewhat in charge of the whole activity. It takes arranging of naps and packing of all kinds of diapers and blankets and a drink and...well..those of you who take care of kids know. But when I get outside and feel the sun on my clothes and see my kids enjoying themselves, it's a big deal -- for them and for me.

I can feel that I'm getting in a little over my head in some ways, bringing this little girl home. But I can also feel that things like both kids going down easily for their naps and a warm shower in the middle of the day and successfully leaving the house and being outside for an hour or so can become great gifts, not unlike breathing through your nose. (...Which I have been able to do since Eden has stopped sharing my body. Woo hoo!) God has certainly done more for me than I would've asked already. But I think that being thankful and content with small, normal things is both an art and a discipline I should not lose sight of as I start down this new road of parenting. Being able to do normal things is, on its own, a big deal. Thank you, God!

Welcome, Eden!

If you know us well enough to check our blog, chances are you know that we are now the proud parents of two great kids! Eden Elizabeth was born on what felt like Tuesday night, but was actually about 1:30 Wednesday morning. She is a tiny little thing -- 6 lbs. 4 oz. and just 19 inches long.

In my last post, I talked about how I was hesitant to hope for a "wonderful" delivery. But I got just that. By the time I decided I might actually be in for the real thing and Granna and Papaw made a quick four-hour drive from Kentucky to stay with Israel for the night, we just barely made it to the hospital in time. The labor was much easier than Israel's and when we arrived at the hospital sometime after midnight, she and I were completely prepared for her to come out right then! I would not mind at all telling you about the experience, but for public display, I'll just say the nurse attending said I held the record for fastest delivery that day.

...Which normally wouldn't be much of a comment on the speed of a birth, except that half of Muncie decided to give birth that day, too. (I will never think that full moons inducing labor is merely an old wives' tale.) We were placed in the LAST bed available in the mother/baby unit, which was a bed a few feet from someone else's bed. It was cramped quarters, to say the least, as a line of beds spanned the room: Pat's, mine, Eden's, curtain; curtain, baby boy's bed, mom's bed, dad's bed. Four adults and two newborns in one hospital room. (And their extended families most of the next day.... Argh.) It was a frustrating situation, leading me to fight hard to get outta there early, which we did. I know that is a tremendous blessing to be able to do. We were only in the hospital for 37 hours. Total. Including delivery.

And now we're home. Israel is loving his little sister so far, which has brought us to tears a couple of times. He loves to kiss her and "hug" her, and asks to hold her. When she cries, he immediately goes to help her and offers a "cry" of his own for her. It's more than I could expect from him. It may be a little early to tell, but if the last two days have been any sort of indicator, he will be a great big brother.

Thus far, the transition is going well. Israel was well cared-for by Granna and Papaw in our absence, making the whole thing feel pretty...normal. Eden is a good baby thus far and is eating and sleeping well. She has a very soft cry, even when at her angriest, earning her the nickname "Squeaker" from me. She seems pretty easy-going and peaceful and even sleeps in longer stretches at night! (Sticking to the pattern and keeping my fingers crossed.)


Here are a few more pictures and many more are to come, I'm sure. More pictures are available for viewing on our facebook account, here. Check back!

birthday distortions

So I am now 28 years old. The funny thing is that I have been telling people I am 28 for quite some time and missed most of my more youthful-sounding 27th year. They say forgetfulness comes with the getting older.

Historically, I make a big deal about my birthday. I want my cake. I want a party and presents to unwrap. This year, however, my wish list was stranger: I wanted to breathe through my nose, not be in labor, and to sleep whenever I wanted. I got two and a half of those. Not bad. Plus, Pat bought me a dishwasher with some of our tax money for my birthday. I think I *smiled* with excitement. These last several days (weeks?) have seen me with little energy to do...anything, including being very excited about a dishwasher. Getting a load of laundry through on a given day feels like a great accomplishment. (Speaking of which...the sheets are in the washer! There goes going to bed when I want. I'm glad I blog...so I can remember what's really important!) I am glad to have the dishwasher, though, and I think Pat is able to correctly interpret my smile as what would normally be me jumping up and down and clapping my hands.

Three years ago on my birthday, I had Bell's Palsy, which paralyzes half of your face. My smile then was a very strange-looking occurrence, with one side of my mouth curling upward and the other side was merely strung along for the ride. My face looked like this:
when I really meant for it to look like this:
It was rather embarrassing to get excited at that time and I remember trying to just keep a straight face about everything, knowing I looked a bit scary when I attempted a show of emotion. It was very strange not wanting to smile and I felt like a significant part of me had been taken away. I didn't even want to laugh at my own bad puns! There are no guarantees with Bell's Palsy. Sometimes your face returns to normal and other times it's just gonna stay that way. When you get it, you don't know which part of the population you will be. Your face's every expression could be distorted for the rest of your life and you just have to wait and see. Obviously, I was blessed to be part of the you-get-your-face-back group and every now and then I remember just how nice it is to be able to smile like a normal person and recognize my face as a gift.

I would've been so excited to have a day like today for my birthday as a kid. The weather is NICE, (about 60 degrees and sunny) and I can remember only once as a kid being able to go outside in just a jacket on my birthday. This is truly a rare occasion. Also rare is being able to stay home with Pat on a weekday, which I got to do today as well. Give me that combination on a typical day and I will fill the day with all kinds of things to do. However, this year I find myself "keeping a straight face" again and not wanting to do anything particularly grand. This is because I am a wimp. I have had the same whiny cold for over three weeks now and am tired from being pregnant. So when presented with a day on which I could do whatever I wanted, I opted to sleep. I slept in a bit. I took a nice nap. I hope to go to bed early.

I feel like a little part of me has been taken away and I hope to get it back. Of course, this isn't like Bell's Palsy. I know that my condition won't last the rest of my life. I mean, a cold can't REALLY last forever and I'm actually praying that my pregnancy will last at least until next week, even if it means I lose a few hours of wake-time every day until it's over. But since when do I decline birthday cake on my birthday due to a weird-feeling stomach and since when is sleeping on a beautiful day the most enjoyable activity I can think of? I have tried to think of this as going back to my roots; I slept a lot and didn't eat cake on my actual birth-day, after all. But really, it's just not quite like me. It makes me just yearn to feel "normal" again and causes a strange contentment with something small -- like a nice nap.

It's kind of like the day after you have a cold, when inhaling seems like a miracle. (Can't wait for that!)

But in matters greater than my physical state, I have been keenly aware that, as with Bell's Palsy, there are no guarantees in life and people often are presented with conditions that don't just go away. This past week, some friends and I got together for a little prayer time. Our church group has had several problems related to children in the last year or so, ranging from infertility to an infant who died to a couple who had a miscarriage just last week. One of my friends, as a result, wanted to specifically pray for my child to be protected. It was a strange prayer time. Mostly, the three of us there confessed to not being entirely sure what the point of such prayer is. One of the friends praying for me is the friend whose daughter died this year. I have struggled this whole pregnancy with asking God for anything, since so much has been denied my friends. What right do I have to ask God for anything? When I look around me at the terrible and difficult things that have happened to my friends, I just become speechless before God and prayer gets added to the list of things that would take too much energy to do in earnest. I've already fought it out with God once and I really don't have the energy to do it again now. Besides, I know the "answers." So I mutter prayers like, "God, you know what I would want and I know you'll do whatever you want to do anyway, so I'm gonna try not to be anxious about it and trust you." It's a prayer that says, "I trust your Sovereignty in the short term and your Goodness only in the scope of eternity." And it's not entirely like me to be that way -- not in practice. It's me trying to keep a straight face and take a lot of naps.

After choir practice this evening, we had a brief time of prayer for various ones of us in the group. I asked for prayer (because what could it hurt?) that I will not go into labor this weekend while the midwife is away and that I could stop worrying about it. (I don't feel like worrying about it.) One of my friends there prayed for Pat and me, asking that we would have a wonderful labor. It was a simple, short prayer and it made me cry a little. I cried, I think, because I don't have the faith to pray like that right now, but I'm glad someone does. Having just a normal delivery sounds like more of a blessing than I could ask for at this point. I think a part of me would feel guilty if I had one that was anything close to "wonderful." I know not one of my friends who has had difficulty would wish anything but the best for me and my children, but when neither good nor bad seems fair, it seems easier to opt for nothing noteworthy. Of course, I have my wish list for a time frame for labor and for Israel and me to be well and for my mom to have time to get here and for Eden to be healthy and not have colic like Israel did and for nursing to be easy and for enough money to cover the expenses associated with another child and, and, and.... But for now I am hoping I'm not just selling God short in trying to be grateful for nasal spray and Kleenex with lotion.

Great news!

This morning, the three of us went to visit Mabrey, our midwife. I knew it was going to be a good visit when I stepped on the scale and had LOST a pound. The visit got even better when we were told that Eden's abdomen is right in line with her other measurements at this point and Mabrey said, "All that worry for nothing!" I already gave the statistics from the ultrasound earlier this week, but to see Mabrey nothing but light-hearted during our visit as a result was great. If you do not want the intimate details of what's going on in my "belly," by all means, stop reading after this paragraph and know that a presumably healthy Eden will be on her way within the next few weeks and I'm apparently gearing up for it. If you like hearing measurements and all that, keep reading.

More good news is that I have tested beta-strep negative. This is good. Very good. My friend's baby was positive for this and it was a difficult beginning for a very sick baby. Mabrey tested me early last week, I think, just in case I would have to be induced early if Eden were not to be growing in there. One less thing to worry about.

Mabrey also asked if I would like to be examined to see how things are going in there. I'm pretty curious, so we went ahead and did it, even though she said it was not necessary at this point. (It was nice that she really didn't seem to think it was important to do at all.) The findings: I am already almost 2 cm. dilated and about 40% effaced. Eden is at a -2 position out of a +4. (Babies start out at -4. At +4, people start saying, "Look! I can see the baby!") These things are not indicators of how quickly I will go into labor -- I was at 2 cm. with Israel for weeks -- but it's good to know that things are lining up in there and are ready to go when it's time. Mabrey also said I seemed to have a Braxton-Hicks contraction while she was measuring my belly. I didn't even notice. I must shrug all of them off as Eden getting into a strange postion. That's pretty cool.

While we've been working under the assumption that everything was indeed fine with Eden, even though she measured small, I feel like a weight has been lifted today. I've been riding high from this appointment all afternoon. It's quite a relief to me that Mabrey is no longer tempering her statements about how she's sure everything is fine with promises to follow up, "just to be sure." I guess I had been letting her do my worrying for me and am glad that no one feels a need to worry for me now (that I know of). I don't have to talk about how "...there's this one issue, but we're pretty sure everything's fine." Now, I can just say everything looks good -- great, in fact! Thank you, God!

When our children ask why.

As Pat shared, we recently celebrated our dedication of Israel. Dedication anniversaries are an opportunity to light a candle and have your kids ask, "Why do you do that?" We talk about how we want to use that day in his life to share with him who we see him to be. Part of that is talking about the meaning his name has to us. Pat and I had Israel's name chosen before we ever met each other. For several reasons, I feel God gave us the name. I remember the moment when I knew that I would name my first-born Israel. A pastor was talking to me about how God honors struggle, as is evidenced by the name he gave to His children. It was the summer after my freshman year of college, when I was trying to be an atheist. When God has called us His children, not even our worst behaviour can change it. I envision sharing this with Israel over and over again.

In thinking about eventually sharing this tradition with Eden, though, we weren't sure we would be able to share anything really meaningful with her about her name. And what a let-down that would be year after year, to hear this great story about your brother's name and then, when it is your turn, your parents say, "Umm...your name means delight." I don't want my son to have a meaningful name and my daughter to have one that is merely pretty. I feel like girls get the shaft like that a lot. I want my daughter's name to have some sort of intensity and depth, too.

Before much discussion with Pat, I was dead-set on naming her Lydia. I like the character Lydia in the New Testament. She seems spunky to me -- she doesn't mess around. I like that about a person. But Pat wasn't too keen on the name, and when he once said he thought he might be alright with it, it gave me second thoughts. So we held the two names in limbo for awhile (along with a third name we knew we probably wouldn't use, but liked). Then Pat's mom addressed all the Christmas presents for the little girl we then called "Peanut" to "Eden" and I started leaning toward the name, even though I have a fear of becoming one of those crazy families whose kids all have Bible names. (I feel like those families always have a lot of kids, and I don't want a lot of kids; it would make me crazy!) Once you give your second kid a Bible name, it puts you into that category and even if you have another kid, you can't name him Billy to get out of it...it just wouldn't be right.

But we like the name. We like that it's earthy-sounding, alludes to something beautiful, is easy to pronounce, unique but not strange, and means "delight." Also, it's both the name of a person in the Bible (albeit some obscure man...) as well as a geographical location, just like Israel's name is. So we talked about it a little and decided to name her Eden. Usually our talks about "the name" came at the end of a long day, though, and not much was discussed about why we were choosing Eden over something else. The conversation went, basically, like this:
"I think I'm okay with Eden. What do you think?"
"I'm fine with it; I like it."
"So...Eden it is?"
"Sure."
"'Sure,' like, that's her name and we can tell people that's her name?"
"Uh...I guess so. Yeah, I think that's fine."
Nothing earth-shattering. Kind of anti-climactic, even. And very much a decision we made. I didn't like that about it; I wanted both my kids' names to be given to me by God. I know God uses our minds and works through our decisions...it's just that He's a lot harder to discern that way. (This is why I hardly ever say God speaks to me, I've discovered. Even if I think something is completely right and exactly what God wants, if I feel like I have enough reason to back up my choice without bringing in divine intervention, I am not comfortable saying, "God told me so." This is for better or for worse. It makes me a failed mystic.)

All the same, though, the name really grew on me. I remember Sue, Pat's sister, asking why we had picked that name shortly after we did. I gave her the reasons I outlined above, and added, "Besides, it has a lot of potential for good and for evil." Now, what was THAT supposed to mean? And since when is that obviously a good thing about a name? But that is how I answered her, and my words just kind of fell to her hardwood floor, where the four kids running through our conversation trampled on them before I could think about what I had meant to convey. I was left with the feeling that I had given her a really awkward, confused answer. And my answer was not any clearer to me until Saturday, on a long drive with Pat.

The potential for good and for evil is something I like about Israel's name. It worries me, too, though. I mean, what if he just struggles his whole life in his relationship with God? What will that do to him and to us? "Wrestles with God" could go either way. But God chose Israel to be His so that others could know the perfect God through His interaction with His imperfect child. In a similar way, Eden is something God chose to set apart as a perfect gift for his new creation...to be a delight to them. But He put into Eden these two trees, leaving the potential for greatness and for a very difficult path through life. In both cases, God's choice was that people would take the more simple way of having a great relationship with Him. But in both cases, people chose to make things difficult and yet He is still working the consequences of those decisions into a perfect plan for all humanity. In both cases, God's choice in initiating a relationship with His creation is purely good, but it leaves itself vulnerable; it is dangerous.

I realize I think that there are a lot of things that are truly good, yet part of what makes them so good is that they are dangerous. Good and dangerous often go hand-in-hand. Fire is like that. Sex is like that. Adventure is like that. Relationships of all kinds are like that. If you are to have a good relationship with God, with a friend, with a spouse, with your child, you are going to be close enough for that person to really be able to do you significant harm if ever they are so inclined. And I want my children to be truly good. Being able to be truly good so often seems to mean having potential to be truly terrible. Yet it is a risk that God considered worth taking and it is one I consider worth taking, too.

The intertwining of goodness and danger is a work of beauty in my mind. I'm sure someone out there has a full theory written out about danger in aesthetics and that person is not me. For now, it's another of those vague senses I have about things. The meaning of Eden's name, however, is no longer a vague sense to me. It is a recognition that she is a good gift from God. (This, though I have never hesitated to recognize that her existence was God's decision.) God's good gifts are full of potential for both joy and pain. We do not expect mediocrity from our children; we believe they have great potential and this cuts both ways. So we embark yet again on this dangerous adventure of being intimately connected to another unfolding life. We go into this with both a confidence and a whispered prayer that this life will be beautiful in the full sense of the word and a delight to all who know her.

Last ultrasound

We have returned from what will likely be our last ultrasound of Eden. She was in perfect picture-taking position while the tech did all the measurements. The tech said everything was measuring at just about 35 weeks, which is great, since I am 36 weeks along today. One week small is no big deal. I measured 3 weeks small in our appointment with Mabrey on Tuesday, which is border-line, but the tech said today that the fluid and placenta look good. Eden weighs about 5 lbs. 11 oz right now. Her brother was only 6lbs. 3oz. so it sounds right to me that she's just about done in there.

When the tech switched to the 4-D imaging wand, Eden did an about-face and was no longer in any sort of position to have a very good picture taken. She had smooshed her face against my belly, making her nose look like a big hole in the middle of her face. We were able to get a little profile shot and a picture of a fist and a foot...all of which are down by her face. It was pretty cool to sit and talk with the tech about where everything is again. She is in a kind of pike-positioned splits in there: head down, butt up, one leg sticking straight down by her face, and the other leg sticking straight out up by my ribcage on the right. This explains the crazy sideways expansion that happens from time to time when she really kicks her leg out: sharp buldge on the right, BIG bulge on the left from the foot and butt, respectively. I first felt Eden move at 14 weeks and am starting to feel as if I've known her a very long time at this point. Except for when it's time for pictures, she makes herself well-known in there.


In just a few short weeks (about 4...) we'll get to have all kinds of exciting pictures of this new little face in the world! We still can't believe it, but there she is and here she comes!

Dedication

This evening Lezlie and I lit the dedication candle to remember dedicating Israel to God last February 10th. These were my thoughts that day last year.

Dedication
2-10-2008


Some time ago, when I was young in Christ, I read through the life and adventures of David. Of course many of the stories struck me, but one of them comes to memory today, one I'd not heard before, and I haven't heard of since. I don't remember exactly where this story was, and in my cursory look back I wasn't able to find it, but I'll just tell it to you how I remember it.

David and his men were in the midst of battle. They were surrounded by a greater force, and it seems to my memory that they were backed into a cave, or surrounded in some city or something. After hours (or maybe even days) of fighting David called out saying “Oh! What I would do to have just a drink from [a certain] well!” Two of his loyal men heard him and decided that they would get their leader the drink the he so desired. So these two men risked their lives and fought through the enemy ranks. Escaping out into the open they ran as fast as they could to the well David had mentioned, drew a bowl full of water, and ran it back to the place of battle. Then after fighting their way back into the thick of the battle they found their beloved leader and presented him with his request.
David was flabbergasted. He was so overwhelmed with the honor and the extent to which these men had gone that he could not receive the gift. The greatness of the gift was too much for him to keep for himself. So instead of draining this bowl David poured it out as a drink offering to God.
After reading this story as a young man I was shook. What a crazy response! Here these guys risked their lives to get him this drink, and he goes and pours it out on the ground. On the other hand I understand it. How could he drink it? This gift was too much of an honor for any man to accept for himself. In that respect it was perfectly fitting for him to give this offering to God, and not keep it to himself.
So Lezlie and I have been planning this baby dedication for our child, Israel for a few weeks now. When Z first came to me with the idea I agreed to it, but not because I was into it, only because I felt like I should, and because this is one of the things that we do in this certain churchy culture that we're in. I felt like this is just what we do so that we don't have to say that we've baptized our children, so that we can feel superior to other parts of the Church.
So I thought about it some. “Why are we doing this?” I thought.

Then the other day as I was working I realized what this dedication is. It is my pouring out the bowl of water that is just too great of an offering for me to accept. It is my wife and my choice to give this wonderful gift back the the giver, knowing that we cannot raise him correctly, but also that our Creator can raise him correctly. To that end this dedication is also an invitation, permission, for God to work through his body: the Church, to hold us to this pouring out of our gift to God.
We do this because this gift is so great. We do this because we can't do it ourselves. We do this in thanks and humility recognizing our own limits, and God's limitlessness. We do this dedication as an act of community within the body of Christ.

Amen and amen.

It's good for me to remember why we did that. May it be so.

feeling rich

Sometimes it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Sometimes I get a lot anyway. Then I'm REALLY happy. We've been significantly blessed lately with...stuff. Good stuff. And I'm feeling particularly grateful for it, so here are some of the things that I have been oh-so-happy to receive recently.

- Buying a crockpot. Not just any crockpot. A big, bronze one with a lid that locks on for transport and a spoon that locks into the lid handle and a carrying case. We use it every Sunday for the carry-in at church. It means not having to make breakfast and lunch on Sunday mornings while getting ready and packing up chilren's Sunday school supplies and Israel's stuff. We wake up to the smell of whatever that has been cooking all night. Lovely.
- Israel's bedding. We got it on sale for 1/3 of its original price. When my parents were here this weekend, we put the twin bed (that was given to us years ago) in the kids' room and covered it in the new green sheets and down comforter and new feather pillows that we bought with gift money. It's the most posh bed I've ever seen for a toddler -- and all machine washable!

- The return of our home phone. This is actually an expense-saver, but it feels nice to have a phone in my dining room again.
- Meat in our freezer. We were given a gift certificate to a local farmer's store for Christmas and used the whole of it to buy good meat. We hardly ever have meat, because the kind we feel good about buying is so expensive it's easier not to bother. Right after we bought this meat (which wasn't a lot, pound-wise, but should make a few good meals), we were given as much or more again in venison that our friend's family member hunted. Meat-eating makes me smile.
- Two dressers in the kids' room that are organized and full. And I have bought hardly any of it. And I didn't have to organize it by myself.
- A tax return that is more than we actually paid in taxes. (We double-checked and it's legit!) I can't even tell you the plans we have and being able to dream about things makes me feel rich, too. I don't like to dream about things that I don't think are in my reach, so this tax return is actually acting as a sort of dream-machine for the time being. We'll have a garden and another bathroom and a wall on that part of the house and time off work when Eden is born and....
- A new (to us) car! My parents brought it up from Kentucky this weekend. It was my mom's car. We took it on a short drive around town last night and I recalled a certain feeling of euphoria that I had driving Myrtle (my old car) for the first time after we put a CD player in her. We were giddy about so many small things that I'll list them separately.
- Push-button unlocking and trunk "popping." No more holding Israel on my hip, using the key to unlock the front door, opening the door, reaching in back, pulling up the lock, shutting the front door, and opening the back door to put him in. Life suddenly seems so SIMPLE! I was sad that Pat unlocked the car this morning before I had a chance. I like pushing the button.
- A functioning CD player and radio. Myrtle had hers stolen quite some time ago and it was...quiet.
- Speakers that all WORK! My hearing has apparently adjusted to the lack of a sound system in our cars. I kept turning the music down when we were on our drive last night. Pat turned on the Beastie Boys and the bass seemed loud. I went to turn it down, only to find that it was already set to zero.
- A moon roof. Israel kept flashing his hands and saying, "light!" as we drove under the street lights last night. Cool.

- A back seat that is actually big enough to really fit two car seats.
- A car that does not have any significant body damage. We had one of these until a couple of weeks ago, when Forest got hit by a red car while sitting in front of our house. (The car left part of itself behind and on Forest's behind.) Ah...a nice-looking car!


We felt so rich last night, sitting on the bed in Israel's room on the new stuff, looking at the newly-arranged room after my parents left that we felt giddy. And we had to celebrate. And we wanted to go on a drive. So we found a friend who was free at the last minute to go out to dinner (which also makes us feel rich). And celebrating makes you feel rich, too.

Pat says we are rich, and I know what he means. Of course we are...just by virtue of being in America at this time. Plus, I have so much more than many people I know. We live in this huge (though unfinished) house, which I appreciated anew as my parents and I were remembering the size of the house my dad grew up in. I have the fondest memories of my Grandma and Papaw's house in Lynch, Kentucky, but realized as I was describing it to Pat that the whole house (with four kids) could've fit in our front four rooms!

We have all kinds of riches, both tangible and not, that we could not have earned. So yes, we are rich. Sometimes, though, it's nice to feel that way, too. Add to my list of dreams making someone else feel rich. That also will make you feel rich.