When I was pregnant with Charis, she was almost constantly kicking and squirming around -- so much so that on the morning of her birth, it was clear to me that something was awry since she hadn't moved for more than two hours. Though I didn't film this very well, she proves in this video that she is definitely the same wiggly baby that squirmed inside of me for 8 months!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Happy Anniversary to us!
This weekend, Zach surprised me with a late overnight anniversary trip since our 1 year anniversary (August 1) was spent recovering from a C-Section with our 18 day old preemie. He had told me nothing about the trip other than that we would be spending a night away somewhere and that I should bring warm clothes for Charis and me.
After we got in the car, Zach finally told me where we were going: Parkdale, Oregon. My guess is that no one reading this blog has ever heard of Parkdale, Oregon, considering it is a rural town of about 200 people, but Zach and I had actually been to this very place previously. Two years ago, we were driving around that area of the state looking desperately for somewhere to eat, and we came upon a quaint little bed and breakfast: The Old Parkdale Inn. We stopped there to ask for directions, and we were graciously directed across the street to a tiny little pub (the only restaurant in Parkdale, I'm asssuming). Since that night, we have talked and joked about returning to Parkdale, and we have particularly discussed going back to that bed and breakfast. You can only imagine my excitement, then, when Zach told me that we had reservations at the Old Parkdale Inn for that evening.
We stopped for lunch in Eugene (at Chipotle, of course) and then headed east on Historic Highway 30 toward Hood River. Along the way, we stopped at a few waterfalls (Multnomah falls was definitely a favorite) and ate dinner in Hood River. From there it was about a 20 minute drive south into Parkdale, and around that time it began to snow. Hard. We crawled toward Parkdale in the blizzard conditions, and when we finally arrived, the quaint little town was already a winter wonderland.
After drying our shoes by the fire, we went up to our room and had a wonderful evening being spoiled by the wonderful accommodations and our very well-behaved baby. It really could not have been more perfect, and the fact that we were in Parkdale made it even more special. In the morning, we had a wonderful breakfast and took Charis on a snowy walk (much to her amazement!). We then headed back for a quick lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings (Zach's favorite) in Portland, and returned to Roseburg this evening. What a wonderful trip it was!
I can't believe we're at the Old Parkdale Inn!
The bed and breakfast from the outside
Charis was quite excited to be there, too :)
Zach and Charis in front of Mt. Hood (this is in the front yard of the Old Parkdale Inn)
This is Charis' reaction to the snow and 15 degree weather.
At beautiful Multnomah Falls
And. . . Charis' reaction to Multnomah Falls :)
Getting some loving from Mom and Dad at lunchtime.
To my love: thank you for an incredible trip! It was charmed and perfect. I love you!
After we got in the car, Zach finally told me where we were going: Parkdale, Oregon. My guess is that no one reading this blog has ever heard of Parkdale, Oregon, considering it is a rural town of about 200 people, but Zach and I had actually been to this very place previously. Two years ago, we were driving around that area of the state looking desperately for somewhere to eat, and we came upon a quaint little bed and breakfast: The Old Parkdale Inn. We stopped there to ask for directions, and we were graciously directed across the street to a tiny little pub (the only restaurant in Parkdale, I'm asssuming). Since that night, we have talked and joked about returning to Parkdale, and we have particularly discussed going back to that bed and breakfast. You can only imagine my excitement, then, when Zach told me that we had reservations at the Old Parkdale Inn for that evening.
We stopped for lunch in Eugene (at Chipotle, of course) and then headed east on Historic Highway 30 toward Hood River. Along the way, we stopped at a few waterfalls (Multnomah falls was definitely a favorite) and ate dinner in Hood River. From there it was about a 20 minute drive south into Parkdale, and around that time it began to snow. Hard. We crawled toward Parkdale in the blizzard conditions, and when we finally arrived, the quaint little town was already a winter wonderland.
After drying our shoes by the fire, we went up to our room and had a wonderful evening being spoiled by the wonderful accommodations and our very well-behaved baby. It really could not have been more perfect, and the fact that we were in Parkdale made it even more special. In the morning, we had a wonderful breakfast and took Charis on a snowy walk (much to her amazement!). We then headed back for a quick lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings (Zach's favorite) in Portland, and returned to Roseburg this evening. What a wonderful trip it was!
I can't believe we're at the Old Parkdale Inn!
The bed and breakfast from the outside
Charis was quite excited to be there, too :)
Zach and Charis in front of Mt. Hood (this is in the front yard of the Old Parkdale Inn)
This is Charis' reaction to the snow and 15 degree weather.
At beautiful Multnomah Falls
And. . . Charis' reaction to Multnomah Falls :)
Getting some loving from Mom and Dad at lunchtime.
To my love: thank you for an incredible trip! It was charmed and perfect. I love you!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
God Our Father
Since Charis has been born, the Scriptures have come alive in new ways to me through the "lens" of motherhood. A few reflections:
1. Hosea 11 has been a meaningful passage to me since my last year of college (my roommate and I had it hanging prominently on our wall), but now I read it in a new light. Speaking about his children of Israel (who had been caught in cycles of apostasy and unfaithfulness for decades), God says,
"When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. But the more I called Israel, the further they went from me. . . It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realize it was I who healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love; I lifted the yoke from their neck and bent down to feed them. . . Yet how can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel?" (Hosea 11:1-4, 8a).
First of all, the imagery here paints Yahweh as such a tender, compassionate father; imagine the God of the universe bending down to hand-feed his children with manna, or taking them gently by the hands to teach them to walk! Yes, our Father is a God of power, of justice, of omnipresence, of strength -- and yet he is simultaneously a God of love, of compassion, of mercy, and of grace. He was and is our "Abba" Father. And no matter how frustrating his children become with their constant sin and disobedience, his "compassion is aroused" (v. 8), and he consistently responds in love and forgiveness.
Now, obviously Charis has not yet exhibited any sort of sin or disobedience, but I think I understand more now how such "unconditional" parental love is possible. I love her so much that I can see how forgiveness and grace will (hopefully) flow so easily once she is old enough to merit it. That is not to say that God is not a father of justice or discipline (just as I won't be a mother who does not correct); yet I pray that I can respond to Charis with the same roused compassion and unfailing love that God has for us.
2. Next, every story that I now read in the Bible that pertains to the sacrifice or loss of a child speaks to me in a completely different way than it did before Charis' birth. I can begin to understand the agony that Abraham felt laying Isaac on the altar on Mount Moriah; I can empathize with the father of the prodigal son who waited on the hilltop watching each night for his son to come home; I can hear David's heart when he mourns, "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you -- O Absalom, my son, my son!"(2 Samuel 18:33). I obviously have not been in their shoes or situations, but I can now understand the incredible love that they had for their children.
A character that particularly amazes me is Hannah, who prays diligently for a child so that she can give him back to the Lord. She has been mocked by Peninnah (who already has a houseful of children) and has pled with God to the point of weeping when God finally "remembers" her and allows Samuel to be conceived. What impresses me most about Hannah is that she is completely true to her word and gives Samuel back to the Lord as soon as he is weaned. Although she is so grateful for God's gift of Samuel ("My heart rejoices in the Lord; in the Lord my horn is lifted high. My mouth boasts over my enemies, for I delight in your deliverance..." [1 Samuel 2:1]), I cannot imagine that she also didn't feel some sadness about the fact that she wouldn't be able to watch her little boy grow up daily. She wouldn't be there to bandage the knees, to rock him to sleep, to find out his favorite foods and activities and pastimes -- and yet she sacrificed those maternal blessings in order to be faithful to God (since He had been faithful to her!). What an example!
3. Ultimately, I can testify that "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created" (James 1:17-18). Not only do I recognize that the gift of Charis' life is a "perfect" gift from above, but I also am amazed that God has chosen to adopt US as his own children. Oh, how he loves us!
And now, some recent pictures of our tiny, perfect gift: :)
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Love's Transformation
Dear Zach,
Whenever I think back to December of 2007, my heart warms as I recall those few weeks when you and I's relationship transformed from a friendship to a budding romance. I can clearly remember the moment on the evening of November 30, 2007 that the "scales were removed from my eyes" and I suddenly saw you in a completely new light - a light that you would also soon recognize that would lead to the beginning of our official dating relationship on December 31, 2007.
As most can attest, the first few weeks of any relationship are some of the most exhilarating because of the excitement and newness of the experience. I can certainly say that that was true for us in December of 2007. What I remember the most were snowy, freezing walks in the wee hours of the night all around the city of Wheaton. We wanted an excuse to be alone together, and our budding feelings for one another seemed to completely outweigh the subzero wind chills and slippery streets. I remember my stomach jumping when you would send me a text message, my heart fluttering when I would see you walking from the BGC after Hermeneutics class, my face glowing when I told my roommates you had officially asked me on our first date. I remember hours of endless conversation; the beauty of the moment you first held my hand; kicking field goals illegally on Wheaton's football field in the snow in the middle of the night; snowball fights in Memorial Park; trips to our bridge in downtown Wheaton; exam "study" sessions that accomplished almost nothing. In short, that month laid the foundation of our relationship to come, and the giddiness of our "inlikeness" was the first step to the glory of our "inloveness" that would come months later.
During our one year and eleven days of dating, we learned how to love each other. Of course I still remember the moment you first told me you loved me on the night of May 8, but that was only the beginning of actually knowing what loving each other meant. It began as the verbal profession, and it grew into a deep understanding that loving each other involved so much more than simply saying so. In those early days, loving each other looked like spending every moment we could together, sacrificing closeness in opposite sex friendships to prioritize one another, getting up at odd hours of the night to talk while in different time zones, being completely honest with one another about our pasts, and so on. Our understanding of love would grow and change and develop throughout that year and eleven days, and by January 11, 2009, we knew that this love that we shared would remain strong for the rest of our lives. You asked me to marry you that night on the same snowy bridge we had walked to so many times before, but that night was the first time we walked away knowing for certain that our love would be eternal.
On August 1, 2009, we sealed our love by professing our vows of marriage in a small, white country church on a blazing hot summer day in middle Tennessee. The day itself was perfect -- everything I as a bride could have ever wanted in a wedding day -- and yet when I look at our wedding pictures, I think my biggest smile can be seen as you are pulling me through bubbles toward our red truck at the very end of the evening. You opened my car door, settled me in despite my bulky dress, and we waved and beamed back at our wedding guests as we drove off into the moonlight. I was finally and officially yours, and our twoness had become unified into one flesh. Our love had reached a new peak once again.
Now, incredibly, we are exactly one year out from our wedding day, and I can officially say that we have had the craziest year of our lives. Our honeymoon to Mexico was immediately followed by a cross country move to Oregon in August, the beginning of our new teaching jobs in September, and the somewhat startling news that we were going to welcome a new member of our family at the beginning of December. After a somewhat calm winter and spring, though, our summer became crazy again with applications for graduate school in January, another cross-town move, a 3 week trip across the country, and, of course, the terrifying yet perfect birth of our little Charis. In some ways, I think we may look back on this year as a blur, and yet in other ways, I feel like every detail was imperative to shaping our love to exactly what God wanted it to look like.
We certainly did not choose the easy or comfortable road for our first year of marriage. We easily could have stayed in Wheaton where we were both already employed and well-connected and sailed through our first year without the added stresses that our new life in Oregon brought. Yet even though we have certainly had our ups and downs and not every moment has been easy, I don't regret our decisions in the least because 1) our life has truly been abundant and 2) ultimately, God has been good to us. Faithful. Hope-giving. Forgiving. Merciful. Good.
So, then, the question remains -- have we achieved our goal of falling more deeply in love with each other with every passing year? While the answer in my mind is certainly a yes, I must admit that our love for each other looks much different now than it ever has. Today on our anniversary it looks like changing dirty diapers at 2 in the morning, sacrificing sleep to be able to spend moments with just the two of us, leaving love notes on my pillow, running to the store when I don't feel like getting off of the couch. It might not be as giddy or glamorous as it once was, and yet it is deeper, truer, more real. I love you with all my heart, baby. I can't wait for this journey of marriage, of parenthood, and of love to continue forever.
Happy 1 year anniversary!
Whenever I think back to December of 2007, my heart warms as I recall those few weeks when you and I's relationship transformed from a friendship to a budding romance. I can clearly remember the moment on the evening of November 30, 2007 that the "scales were removed from my eyes" and I suddenly saw you in a completely new light - a light that you would also soon recognize that would lead to the beginning of our official dating relationship on December 31, 2007.
As most can attest, the first few weeks of any relationship are some of the most exhilarating because of the excitement and newness of the experience. I can certainly say that that was true for us in December of 2007. What I remember the most were snowy, freezing walks in the wee hours of the night all around the city of Wheaton. We wanted an excuse to be alone together, and our budding feelings for one another seemed to completely outweigh the subzero wind chills and slippery streets. I remember my stomach jumping when you would send me a text message, my heart fluttering when I would see you walking from the BGC after Hermeneutics class, my face glowing when I told my roommates you had officially asked me on our first date. I remember hours of endless conversation; the beauty of the moment you first held my hand; kicking field goals illegally on Wheaton's football field in the snow in the middle of the night; snowball fights in Memorial Park; trips to our bridge in downtown Wheaton; exam "study" sessions that accomplished almost nothing. In short, that month laid the foundation of our relationship to come, and the giddiness of our "inlikeness" was the first step to the glory of our "inloveness" that would come months later.
During our one year and eleven days of dating, we learned how to love each other. Of course I still remember the moment you first told me you loved me on the night of May 8, but that was only the beginning of actually knowing what loving each other meant. It began as the verbal profession, and it grew into a deep understanding that loving each other involved so much more than simply saying so. In those early days, loving each other looked like spending every moment we could together, sacrificing closeness in opposite sex friendships to prioritize one another, getting up at odd hours of the night to talk while in different time zones, being completely honest with one another about our pasts, and so on. Our understanding of love would grow and change and develop throughout that year and eleven days, and by January 11, 2009, we knew that this love that we shared would remain strong for the rest of our lives. You asked me to marry you that night on the same snowy bridge we had walked to so many times before, but that night was the first time we walked away knowing for certain that our love would be eternal.
On August 1, 2009, we sealed our love by professing our vows of marriage in a small, white country church on a blazing hot summer day in middle Tennessee. The day itself was perfect -- everything I as a bride could have ever wanted in a wedding day -- and yet when I look at our wedding pictures, I think my biggest smile can be seen as you are pulling me through bubbles toward our red truck at the very end of the evening. You opened my car door, settled me in despite my bulky dress, and we waved and beamed back at our wedding guests as we drove off into the moonlight. I was finally and officially yours, and our twoness had become unified into one flesh. Our love had reached a new peak once again.
Now, incredibly, we are exactly one year out from our wedding day, and I can officially say that we have had the craziest year of our lives. Our honeymoon to Mexico was immediately followed by a cross country move to Oregon in August, the beginning of our new teaching jobs in September, and the somewhat startling news that we were going to welcome a new member of our family at the beginning of December. After a somewhat calm winter and spring, though, our summer became crazy again with applications for graduate school in January, another cross-town move, a 3 week trip across the country, and, of course, the terrifying yet perfect birth of our little Charis. In some ways, I think we may look back on this year as a blur, and yet in other ways, I feel like every detail was imperative to shaping our love to exactly what God wanted it to look like.
We certainly did not choose the easy or comfortable road for our first year of marriage. We easily could have stayed in Wheaton where we were both already employed and well-connected and sailed through our first year without the added stresses that our new life in Oregon brought. Yet even though we have certainly had our ups and downs and not every moment has been easy, I don't regret our decisions in the least because 1) our life has truly been abundant and 2) ultimately, God has been good to us. Faithful. Hope-giving. Forgiving. Merciful. Good.
So, then, the question remains -- have we achieved our goal of falling more deeply in love with each other with every passing year? While the answer in my mind is certainly a yes, I must admit that our love for each other looks much different now than it ever has. Today on our anniversary it looks like changing dirty diapers at 2 in the morning, sacrificing sleep to be able to spend moments with just the two of us, leaving love notes on my pillow, running to the store when I don't feel like getting off of the couch. It might not be as giddy or glamorous as it once was, and yet it is deeper, truer, more real. I love you with all my heart, baby. I can't wait for this journey of marriage, of parenthood, and of love to continue forever.
Happy 1 year anniversary!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Some Reflections at 6 Days Old
Yesterday afternoon, our little family of three finally made it home from the hospital, and despite Zach and I's exhaustion, I cannot even express how thankful we are to finally be here. Now that we've had a few days to get to know Charis and to reflect back on the scary events of last Wednesday, I've been able to process the day a little more than I did in the whirlwind of her birth. Here are some random thoughts and emotions that we've shared over the past few days. . .
1. A few nights ago I asked Zach how far he had let his mind go before Charis' birth in terms of dealing with the reality that we might actually lose her. Both of us admitted that in those few hours of uncertainty, we had both thought about that possibility seriously, even though it was obviously difficult to even fathom what that would mean in our lives. Questions came in my mind like, "What will I do in the fall since I have no job?" or "Would we have a funeral or memorial service for her?" or "What would we do with all of her baby shower presents?" and most fearfullly, "How would we have the strength to cope with such a loss in our lives?" As much as I didn't want to think about these questions, the reality was that losing her was a very definitive possibility. As I laid on the operating table, I called to mind Psalm 139 where I thanked the Lord for creating little Charis perfectly in my womb. The part of that passage that really caught my attention in that moment was the verse that says, " You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed" (Psalm 139:16). I tried to give her back again to the Lord and trust that each moment of her life had been ordained for a purpose - even if it were to end in the next few hours. From the beginning of time, God knew his plans for little Charis, and I tried to force myself to trust and rest in that knowledge as fear and emotion gripped my heart, as well. As I was trying to cling to those verses during the operation, Zach said that the Lord had given him the verses from Job 1: "You give and take away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." He knew Charis was not necessarily our own, but a gift given to us by the Lord for a specific reason. If it were her time to be taken back home to be with Jesus, he wanted to be able to still stand on that verse and hopefully live it if she were to not make it through the operation.
2. I must admit that my post-partum emotions have been a bit out of control, and there have been a few times already where I have literally gone from crying to laughing hysterically back to crying in the matter of about 3 minutes. One of those times (well, okay, at least just a "crying" time) happened last night when I was singing to Charis as I fed her. I began to sing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" (yes, I know, I probably should have seen the tears coming), but this song that I've sung hundreds of times throughout life hit me in an entirely new way in that moment.
"Great is thy faithfulness,
Great is thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see."
The phrase "morning by morning" hit me hard as I considered the morning of her birthday when God mercifully allowed me to sense that something was wrong with her movements and act on the apprehension immediately. Our doctor told us more than once that if we would have come into to the hospital sometime in the evening of that day rather than the morning, we would have lost her. Morning by morning new mercies I see. What mercy we saw on the morning of July 14 in the life of our little girl.
As if that wasn't poignant enough, I continued on to verse three:
"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside."
The last two lines caught my attention as I thanked the Lord for giving me enough strength for each day (even when feeding every 2-3 hours is admittedly daunting), but it was the last line that finally did me in. I cannot even begin to express how blessed we feel to have made it through such harrowing circumstances and come out with a beautiful, perfect daughter on the other side. Not only that, but the prayer support we've received, as well as the literal help we've been given (receiving meals, friends helping with airport runs, housecleaning, moving, etc.) has been overwhelming. I could only wipe tears from my face as I thanked the Lord for what feels like at least "ten thousand" blessings.
3. Speaking of blessings in my life, my husband has been absolutely incredible through this whole experience. He has served me, supported me, loved me, pampered me, changed way more dirty diapers than me, stayed by my side through the whole process, comforted me, held me, prayed for and with me. . . and he is also completely smitten with Charis, which is one of the sweetest parts to watch. As we prepare to celebrate just one year of marriage on August 1, I feel more in love with my wonderful husband than ever. I cannot wait to walk this journey of parenthood with him for the rest of our lives.
Charis is beginning to stir beside me, so it looks like the feeding/diaper changing festivities are about to begin again. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing of new life.
1. A few nights ago I asked Zach how far he had let his mind go before Charis' birth in terms of dealing with the reality that we might actually lose her. Both of us admitted that in those few hours of uncertainty, we had both thought about that possibility seriously, even though it was obviously difficult to even fathom what that would mean in our lives. Questions came in my mind like, "What will I do in the fall since I have no job?" or "Would we have a funeral or memorial service for her?" or "What would we do with all of her baby shower presents?" and most fearfullly, "How would we have the strength to cope with such a loss in our lives?" As much as I didn't want to think about these questions, the reality was that losing her was a very definitive possibility. As I laid on the operating table, I called to mind Psalm 139 where I thanked the Lord for creating little Charis perfectly in my womb. The part of that passage that really caught my attention in that moment was the verse that says, " You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed" (Psalm 139:16). I tried to give her back again to the Lord and trust that each moment of her life had been ordained for a purpose - even if it were to end in the next few hours. From the beginning of time, God knew his plans for little Charis, and I tried to force myself to trust and rest in that knowledge as fear and emotion gripped my heart, as well. As I was trying to cling to those verses during the operation, Zach said that the Lord had given him the verses from Job 1: "You give and take away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." He knew Charis was not necessarily our own, but a gift given to us by the Lord for a specific reason. If it were her time to be taken back home to be with Jesus, he wanted to be able to still stand on that verse and hopefully live it if she were to not make it through the operation.
2. I must admit that my post-partum emotions have been a bit out of control, and there have been a few times already where I have literally gone from crying to laughing hysterically back to crying in the matter of about 3 minutes. One of those times (well, okay, at least just a "crying" time) happened last night when I was singing to Charis as I fed her. I began to sing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" (yes, I know, I probably should have seen the tears coming), but this song that I've sung hundreds of times throughout life hit me in an entirely new way in that moment.
"Great is thy faithfulness,
Great is thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see."
The phrase "morning by morning" hit me hard as I considered the morning of her birthday when God mercifully allowed me to sense that something was wrong with her movements and act on the apprehension immediately. Our doctor told us more than once that if we would have come into to the hospital sometime in the evening of that day rather than the morning, we would have lost her. Morning by morning new mercies I see. What mercy we saw on the morning of July 14 in the life of our little girl.
As if that wasn't poignant enough, I continued on to verse three:
"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside."
The last two lines caught my attention as I thanked the Lord for giving me enough strength for each day (even when feeding every 2-3 hours is admittedly daunting), but it was the last line that finally did me in. I cannot even begin to express how blessed we feel to have made it through such harrowing circumstances and come out with a beautiful, perfect daughter on the other side. Not only that, but the prayer support we've received, as well as the literal help we've been given (receiving meals, friends helping with airport runs, housecleaning, moving, etc.) has been overwhelming. I could only wipe tears from my face as I thanked the Lord for what feels like at least "ten thousand" blessings.
3. Speaking of blessings in my life, my husband has been absolutely incredible through this whole experience. He has served me, supported me, loved me, pampered me, changed way more dirty diapers than me, stayed by my side through the whole process, comforted me, held me, prayed for and with me. . . and he is also completely smitten with Charis, which is one of the sweetest parts to watch. As we prepare to celebrate just one year of marriage on August 1, I feel more in love with my wonderful husband than ever. I cannot wait to walk this journey of parenthood with him for the rest of our lives.
Charis is beginning to stir beside me, so it looks like the feeding/diaper changing festivities are about to begin again. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing of new life.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Our Dearest Charis
Dear Charis,
Two days ago, you made a rather dramatic entrance into the world, and I must say that it was probably both the best and worst day of Daddy and I’s lives. Now that you are here, though, we love you so much and could not be more thankful that you (ultimately) arrived safely!
I woke up on July 14 around 7:15 am, and I noticed that you weren’t being much of a wiggleworm during breakfast (when you are usually pretty active). The thought lingered in the back of my mind, and as more time passed, I started to get a little apprehensive about your lack of movement. I know that most babies your age move at least 10 different times over a period of two hours, and once two hours had passed, I was sure I hadn’t felt you wiggle at all. I told Daddy about it, and we decided to call Dr. Sewell at around 9:15 am. We were cleaning our Callahan Drive house because we had to move out the next day.
After I called the doctor, they called me back around 9:50 and told me to go drink a tall glass of ice water quickly; usually that prompts babies to wiggle around because of the cold shock to their system. She said that if I still didn’t feel you move I should call back and get in for an exam immediately. Daddy and I drove through Wendy’s, I downed a large glass of water, and unfortunately you still did not respond. It was at this point that we began to fear the worst for you, especially when the nurse told us to get to the hospital immediately.
We went to the Mercy Hospital Birthing Ward, and a nice English nurse brought us back to listen to your heart beat. She found your heart beat immediately, and Daddy and I literally cried with relief; we really weren’t sure if your heart beat was still there at all. Unfortunately, though, as she monitored your progress, she noticed that your heart rate was too consistent; most babies your age have big fluctuations in their heart rates because they are wiggling around, but yours stayed right between 151-154 BPM over a period of about 20 minutes. Not only that, but she also tried to stimulate you with a loud buzz right on my tummy. Still, no response from you. The nurse voiced her concern and called Dr. Sewell to come have a look at what should be done.
The last test they did on you was an ultrasound that lasted about 25 minutes. We couldn’t read the doctor’s facial expression very well, but once he began discussing the results of the ultra sound with Dr. Sewell, we knew something was very wrong. He mentioned that you hadn’t moved the entire time and that he possibly saw part of the placenta floating separately from the rest of it. Dr. Sewell informed us that you were at a very high risk and needed to be delivered immediately. She even suggested that we be life-flighted to Eugene because of the serious circumstances (and because you were only 35 weeks, 6 days old), but she did not think we even had time to do that. You were in too much danger, and you needed to be delivered immediately.
Within ten or fifteen minutes of that conversation, Daddy and I were terrified and were signing all sorts of documents to prepare me for an emergency C-Section. As they put me in a wheelchair to bring me to the O.R., I had probably the most intense emotional breakdown of my life -- I collapsed in Daddy’s arms in tearful sobs because I was so scared for your life and felt so powerless to help you. The nurse held us both, as well, and tried to encourage us as much as possible as she wheeled me to the OR. Unfortunately, our emotions only became more dramatic because they wouldn’t let Daddy come in the room for a few minutes as they gave me my anesthesia and prepared me for the surgery. He also had a really difficult time as he waited out in the hall, but in God’s providence a friend who happened to be walking by stopped and prayed for him. I was also blessed because Dr. Sewell held me and prayed for me on the operating table as I was receiving my spinal tap. Both of these experiences helped calm us down a bit, although we were both still scared to death and had no idea what to expect.
They finally let Daddy back in the OR, and within minutes they were ready to bring you into the world. You came out without too much trouble at 12:44 p.m., and Daddy and I’s tears flowed again when you immediately cried after they delivered you. Dr. Sewell was VERY pleasantly surprised at how good you looked and sounded right after delivery; Daddy even got to hold you for a few minutes before they whisked you back to the nursery. The doctors sewed me back up and took me over to one hour of solitary recovery while Daddy got to spend some time looking at you and holding your hand in the nursery. You immediately had a few small issues - low blood sugar, low white blood cell count, etc. -- but miraculously you were SO much healthier than originally thought. They decided immediately that you wouldn’t have to be life-flighted to Eugene and that they expected you to make a full recovery. We could not have been more thrilled!
Shortly after you were born, Daddy called your grandparents to let them know that you were doing well and had made it through the whole ordeal with such unexpected strength. One of the most emotional moments was when he called Mimi Tunney and finally verbalized that both you and I were doing well; both Daddy and Mimi began crying all over again in total gratefulness for the fact that you were okay. You are such a fighter, and God's grace (charis) was sufficient for us.
The last two days have been spent traveling down to visit you in the nursery with ever-increasing frequency as you have become stronger and more stable. It looks like you will even get to spend the night with us in our room tonight, and we can’t wait! You have also had many visitors who love you so much and are dying to see you, as well as tons of relatives who are in love with you already. No one loves you more than your mommy and daddy, though; you will always be our incredible little miracle baby girl.
We love you so much!!
Daddy and Mommy
Two days ago, you made a rather dramatic entrance into the world, and I must say that it was probably both the best and worst day of Daddy and I’s lives. Now that you are here, though, we love you so much and could not be more thankful that you (ultimately) arrived safely!
I woke up on July 14 around 7:15 am, and I noticed that you weren’t being much of a wiggleworm during breakfast (when you are usually pretty active). The thought lingered in the back of my mind, and as more time passed, I started to get a little apprehensive about your lack of movement. I know that most babies your age move at least 10 different times over a period of two hours, and once two hours had passed, I was sure I hadn’t felt you wiggle at all. I told Daddy about it, and we decided to call Dr. Sewell at around 9:15 am. We were cleaning our Callahan Drive house because we had to move out the next day.
After I called the doctor, they called me back around 9:50 and told me to go drink a tall glass of ice water quickly; usually that prompts babies to wiggle around because of the cold shock to their system. She said that if I still didn’t feel you move I should call back and get in for an exam immediately. Daddy and I drove through Wendy’s, I downed a large glass of water, and unfortunately you still did not respond. It was at this point that we began to fear the worst for you, especially when the nurse told us to get to the hospital immediately.
We went to the Mercy Hospital Birthing Ward, and a nice English nurse brought us back to listen to your heart beat. She found your heart beat immediately, and Daddy and I literally cried with relief; we really weren’t sure if your heart beat was still there at all. Unfortunately, though, as she monitored your progress, she noticed that your heart rate was too consistent; most babies your age have big fluctuations in their heart rates because they are wiggling around, but yours stayed right between 151-154 BPM over a period of about 20 minutes. Not only that, but she also tried to stimulate you with a loud buzz right on my tummy. Still, no response from you. The nurse voiced her concern and called Dr. Sewell to come have a look at what should be done.
The last test they did on you was an ultrasound that lasted about 25 minutes. We couldn’t read the doctor’s facial expression very well, but once he began discussing the results of the ultra sound with Dr. Sewell, we knew something was very wrong. He mentioned that you hadn’t moved the entire time and that he possibly saw part of the placenta floating separately from the rest of it. Dr. Sewell informed us that you were at a very high risk and needed to be delivered immediately. She even suggested that we be life-flighted to Eugene because of the serious circumstances (and because you were only 35 weeks, 6 days old), but she did not think we even had time to do that. You were in too much danger, and you needed to be delivered immediately.
Within ten or fifteen minutes of that conversation, Daddy and I were terrified and were signing all sorts of documents to prepare me for an emergency C-Section. As they put me in a wheelchair to bring me to the O.R., I had probably the most intense emotional breakdown of my life -- I collapsed in Daddy’s arms in tearful sobs because I was so scared for your life and felt so powerless to help you. The nurse held us both, as well, and tried to encourage us as much as possible as she wheeled me to the OR. Unfortunately, our emotions only became more dramatic because they wouldn’t let Daddy come in the room for a few minutes as they gave me my anesthesia and prepared me for the surgery. He also had a really difficult time as he waited out in the hall, but in God’s providence a friend who happened to be walking by stopped and prayed for him. I was also blessed because Dr. Sewell held me and prayed for me on the operating table as I was receiving my spinal tap. Both of these experiences helped calm us down a bit, although we were both still scared to death and had no idea what to expect.
They finally let Daddy back in the OR, and within minutes they were ready to bring you into the world. You came out without too much trouble at 12:44 p.m., and Daddy and I’s tears flowed again when you immediately cried after they delivered you. Dr. Sewell was VERY pleasantly surprised at how good you looked and sounded right after delivery; Daddy even got to hold you for a few minutes before they whisked you back to the nursery. The doctors sewed me back up and took me over to one hour of solitary recovery while Daddy got to spend some time looking at you and holding your hand in the nursery. You immediately had a few small issues - low blood sugar, low white blood cell count, etc. -- but miraculously you were SO much healthier than originally thought. They decided immediately that you wouldn’t have to be life-flighted to Eugene and that they expected you to make a full recovery. We could not have been more thrilled!
Shortly after you were born, Daddy called your grandparents to let them know that you were doing well and had made it through the whole ordeal with such unexpected strength. One of the most emotional moments was when he called Mimi Tunney and finally verbalized that both you and I were doing well; both Daddy and Mimi began crying all over again in total gratefulness for the fact that you were okay. You are such a fighter, and God's grace (charis) was sufficient for us.
The last two days have been spent traveling down to visit you in the nursery with ever-increasing frequency as you have become stronger and more stable. It looks like you will even get to spend the night with us in our room tonight, and we can’t wait! You have also had many visitors who love you so much and are dying to see you, as well as tons of relatives who are in love with you already. No one loves you more than your mommy and daddy, though; you will always be our incredible little miracle baby girl.
We love you so much!!
Daddy and Mommy
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Infant Holy, Infant Lowly
Zach has often told me that whenever he has the chance to preach his first sermon, it will most certainly be entitled, "Jesus Is Not My Home-Dawg." Why, you ask? He wants to focus on the fact that modern evangelicalism often tries to make Jesus cool, hip, or trendy, when in reality he was just the opposite. He never made it a point to maintain a good reputation with the high-falutin, the wealthy, or the influential; rather, he spent time with the prostitutes, the poor, the lame, the weak, and the outcasts of society. In short, Jesus was REAL in every imaginable sense -- no facades, no ploys for status, no attempts to be "cool" or "popular" in his culture.
In light of that, we were thinking last night about how fitting and pertinent it is that Jesus came as a tiny baby into our world. Admittedly, we often sing Christmas carols like "Silent Night" and picture a serene, pastoral scene with the new family smiling happily as little baby Jesus coos peacefully in his warm, snug blanket. Yet how different must this event have been! They were in a dirty stable surrounded by filthy animals; Mary was probably exhausted from traveling, being turned away from the inn, and giving birth completely naturally; Joseph probably still had blood on his hands from the messy delivery and could have been feeling unsure about his relationship with the new boy, considering he wasn't his own; and I assume Jesus was doing his fair share of crying and screaming. In essence, that manger scene that we peacefully portray in nativity scenes probably wasn't quite as glamorous as we would like to think, and yet the realness -- and the rawness -- of it is a reflection of Jesus' true character from the very beginning of his existence in this world.
As we prepare for the birth of our first little baby, we realize that while babies are certainly adorable and are a complete joy to a family, they are neither easy nor predictable. They scream, they poop, they cry, they spit up, they pee, and they are ultimately completely reliant on their parents for EVERY need to be met. Attempts to always keep the house clean, to always stick to a specific schedule, or to always have them under control are fruitless. While that (in some ways) goes against my type-A nature, it is also very enticing on many levels because it reminds me of Jesus. I think Jesus likes the messiness and disorder of our lives because it is in that place that He feels most welcome. When we think we have everything under control, we have no need for Him to come in and be our peace, our order, or our joy.
Jesus, may you allow us to learn to let go of the need for perfection in our lives and to continually invite you into even the rawest, messiest details, knowing that you take great joy in knowing us intimately.
In light of that, we were thinking last night about how fitting and pertinent it is that Jesus came as a tiny baby into our world. Admittedly, we often sing Christmas carols like "Silent Night" and picture a serene, pastoral scene with the new family smiling happily as little baby Jesus coos peacefully in his warm, snug blanket. Yet how different must this event have been! They were in a dirty stable surrounded by filthy animals; Mary was probably exhausted from traveling, being turned away from the inn, and giving birth completely naturally; Joseph probably still had blood on his hands from the messy delivery and could have been feeling unsure about his relationship with the new boy, considering he wasn't his own; and I assume Jesus was doing his fair share of crying and screaming. In essence, that manger scene that we peacefully portray in nativity scenes probably wasn't quite as glamorous as we would like to think, and yet the realness -- and the rawness -- of it is a reflection of Jesus' true character from the very beginning of his existence in this world.
As we prepare for the birth of our first little baby, we realize that while babies are certainly adorable and are a complete joy to a family, they are neither easy nor predictable. They scream, they poop, they cry, they spit up, they pee, and they are ultimately completely reliant on their parents for EVERY need to be met. Attempts to always keep the house clean, to always stick to a specific schedule, or to always have them under control are fruitless. While that (in some ways) goes against my type-A nature, it is also very enticing on many levels because it reminds me of Jesus. I think Jesus likes the messiness and disorder of our lives because it is in that place that He feels most welcome. When we think we have everything under control, we have no need for Him to come in and be our peace, our order, or our joy.
Jesus, may you allow us to learn to let go of the need for perfection in our lives and to continually invite you into even the rawest, messiest details, knowing that you take great joy in knowing us intimately.
Monday, December 14, 2009
A New Spin on Mary
Each Christmas, I ask the Lord to give me a "fresh" perspective on the Christmas story because it can become such a repetitive, rattle-it-off-without-thinking part of the whole Christmas experience. Each year, though, God answers this prayer in a new way, and this year is no different. I have been spending much time of late thinking about the attitude and character of Mary because I am now in her shoes for the very first time -- young and pregnant. (Yes, in case you didn't know, Zach and I found out last week that we are expecting our first little baby in August. We are absolutely THRILLED. :)
I have read Luke 1:26-38 several times over the past few days and have marveled at Mary's grace and composure in an admittedly harrowing situation. Mary's status as a "virgin" is continually repeated throughout this passage ("a virgin pledged to be married" [vs. 27]; "I am a virgin" [vs. 34]; and "the virgin's name..." [vs. 27]), and yet still she is going to give birth to a son who will be called the Son of God (without any help from her fiance, Joseph). Can we talk about some shocking news? I still remember vividly the moment that Zach and I walked into our bathroom to find out the results of the pregnancy test I had just taken. Hearts pounding, hand sweating, minds racing, we only had to glance down briefly to notice the prominent plus sign glaring back at us. That moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced -- though not necessarily in a bad way -- because you realize that the entire course of your life will be changed forever. Forever! Even in our moment of shock, though, there were absolute tears of joy; for though we are young, we both feel absolute peace about welcoming a new member or family; and though the news will change our employment situation (and maybe location), we know God has opened the womb for such a time as this.
That in itself is the prominent difference between Mary and I. While Zach and I were thrilled by our news, I can't imagine Mary was initially ecstatic about the angel's announcement. She was probably thinking about how she would tell or explain the news to Joseph, whether he would still love her, what her family might think, how she would be looked at in society, why it was happening to her, how she was going to raise and care for the Son of God, and so on, and so on, and so on. I can only imagine that her mind was racing with fears and questions and quandaries.
And yet despite the circumstances, we must look at the nature of her speech in the passage. She first asks, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?" and finishes the story by peacefully stating, "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said." Talk about the peace of God which transcends all understanding! Her response here is nothing short of incredible as she gracefully gives the situation back to the Lord without angry questioning or a confused demand to "know all." She is content in His will, even when she does not necessarily understand His purposes behind it.
Shortly after this passage, we read "Mary's Song" which further exemplifies her absolute peace and trust in a potentially treacherous situation. May her song also be ours during this Christmas season:
"My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me -- holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation... He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers." -Luke 1:46-55
I have read Luke 1:26-38 several times over the past few days and have marveled at Mary's grace and composure in an admittedly harrowing situation. Mary's status as a "virgin" is continually repeated throughout this passage ("a virgin pledged to be married" [vs. 27]; "I am a virgin" [vs. 34]; and "the virgin's name..." [vs. 27]), and yet still she is going to give birth to a son who will be called the Son of God (without any help from her fiance, Joseph). Can we talk about some shocking news? I still remember vividly the moment that Zach and I walked into our bathroom to find out the results of the pregnancy test I had just taken. Hearts pounding, hand sweating, minds racing, we only had to glance down briefly to notice the prominent plus sign glaring back at us. That moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced -- though not necessarily in a bad way -- because you realize that the entire course of your life will be changed forever. Forever! Even in our moment of shock, though, there were absolute tears of joy; for though we are young, we both feel absolute peace about welcoming a new member or family; and though the news will change our employment situation (and maybe location), we know God has opened the womb for such a time as this.
That in itself is the prominent difference between Mary and I. While Zach and I were thrilled by our news, I can't imagine Mary was initially ecstatic about the angel's announcement. She was probably thinking about how she would tell or explain the news to Joseph, whether he would still love her, what her family might think, how she would be looked at in society, why it was happening to her, how she was going to raise and care for the Son of God, and so on, and so on, and so on. I can only imagine that her mind was racing with fears and questions and quandaries.
And yet despite the circumstances, we must look at the nature of her speech in the passage. She first asks, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?" and finishes the story by peacefully stating, "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said." Talk about the peace of God which transcends all understanding! Her response here is nothing short of incredible as she gracefully gives the situation back to the Lord without angry questioning or a confused demand to "know all." She is content in His will, even when she does not necessarily understand His purposes behind it.
Shortly after this passage, we read "Mary's Song" which further exemplifies her absolute peace and trust in a potentially treacherous situation. May her song also be ours during this Christmas season:
"My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me -- holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation... He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers." -Luke 1:46-55
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Epic of Gilgamesh
My sophomores are studying ancient Eastern literature, and over the past few days we have read and discussed the Epic of Gilgamesh. If you're not familiar with it, it is one of the oldest pieces of literature that is still around today and was written shortly after the Flood in the Mesopotamian land of Sumer. Although it's a long and somewhat fragmentary work, we studied small sections of it and particularly focused in on its portrayal of the "Sumerian Flood Story."
In the Epic of Gilgamesh, a huge flood comes and destroys the whole world, but there is one man (and his family) who are able to survive. This man is named Upnatishtim (though we just called him Tim in class :). After the flood waters pass, he sends out a bird from the huge boat he has been living on and, upon disembarking, offers sacrifices to his gods. Sound familiar?
It should sound quite similar to the story of Noah in Genesis, though there are a few key differences. First, the length of the floods are a bit different, and the purpose of the two floods are also dissimilar; whereas God sent the Biblical flood to destroy corrupted mankind, the Sumerian gods simply sent this flood because they were bored. Despite these seemingly minor constrasts, however, the truth remains that there are still quite a few similarities between the two tales. My question, then, was this: Does this undermine or endanger our Christian faith in any way?
Such a discussion brought me back to my first semester at Wheaton in the fall of 2005. When I was in high school, I definitely knew the Lord and felt like I really was walking with Him daily. My faith -- even then -- was my own, and not only that of my parents. When I entered Wheaton that fall, I expected that all of my Bible classes would only contirbute to strengthening my faith in this sort of feel-good sermon/ church camp way, but that was NOT the case my first semester. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 11:15, my faith was tested -- and often broken -- by my Old Testament Archaeology class. Our professor, Dr. Master, wasn't necessarily seeking to destroy our faith, but he was certainly throwing out some difficult questions: "If you believe in the fall of Jericho, why aren't there any archaeological remains that prove that it actually happened?" or "If you believe in the Creation narrative in Genesis, why do you take that as truth over the Enuma Elish, the Babylonian Creation narrative that was written about the same time? Couldn't the writer of Genesis have simply made up his own story using the Enuma Elish as his primary source?" Tough questions. Questions that I had never even considered answering before. Questions that were slowly breaking my faith and causing me to question the very foundation of my belief system.
I was essentially asking my sophomores a similar question today, though I (hopefully) wasn't quite as "no-nonsense" about it as my archaeology professor was. It actually didn't seem to bother most of them, and to be honest, it probably would not have bothered me that much when I was 15, either. What I was thankful for, though, was that hearing those questions asked over again didn't phase me this time around. After truly wrestling with the Lord that first semester, I finally came to terms with the fact that our religion is called the "Christian FAITH" for a reason -- that is, it requires much faith to believe! We will never have every answer, and not every detail of history or of the Bible will ever be completely reconciled. The beauty of it, though, is that it doesn't have to be for our faith to continue.
While I am thankful that period of doubt in my life is over, I never want to stop being fascinated by the mystery of who God is. My prayer is that I will not be frustrated by what I don't know, yet I will also not be satisfied with what I already DO know. May we all seek to continually understand the complexity and mystery of our great Savior.
In the Epic of Gilgamesh, a huge flood comes and destroys the whole world, but there is one man (and his family) who are able to survive. This man is named Upnatishtim (though we just called him Tim in class :). After the flood waters pass, he sends out a bird from the huge boat he has been living on and, upon disembarking, offers sacrifices to his gods. Sound familiar?
It should sound quite similar to the story of Noah in Genesis, though there are a few key differences. First, the length of the floods are a bit different, and the purpose of the two floods are also dissimilar; whereas God sent the Biblical flood to destroy corrupted mankind, the Sumerian gods simply sent this flood because they were bored. Despite these seemingly minor constrasts, however, the truth remains that there are still quite a few similarities between the two tales. My question, then, was this: Does this undermine or endanger our Christian faith in any way?
Such a discussion brought me back to my first semester at Wheaton in the fall of 2005. When I was in high school, I definitely knew the Lord and felt like I really was walking with Him daily. My faith -- even then -- was my own, and not only that of my parents. When I entered Wheaton that fall, I expected that all of my Bible classes would only contirbute to strengthening my faith in this sort of feel-good sermon/ church camp way, but that was NOT the case my first semester. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 11:15, my faith was tested -- and often broken -- by my Old Testament Archaeology class. Our professor, Dr. Master, wasn't necessarily seeking to destroy our faith, but he was certainly throwing out some difficult questions: "If you believe in the fall of Jericho, why aren't there any archaeological remains that prove that it actually happened?" or "If you believe in the Creation narrative in Genesis, why do you take that as truth over the Enuma Elish, the Babylonian Creation narrative that was written about the same time? Couldn't the writer of Genesis have simply made up his own story using the Enuma Elish as his primary source?" Tough questions. Questions that I had never even considered answering before. Questions that were slowly breaking my faith and causing me to question the very foundation of my belief system.
I was essentially asking my sophomores a similar question today, though I (hopefully) wasn't quite as "no-nonsense" about it as my archaeology professor was. It actually didn't seem to bother most of them, and to be honest, it probably would not have bothered me that much when I was 15, either. What I was thankful for, though, was that hearing those questions asked over again didn't phase me this time around. After truly wrestling with the Lord that first semester, I finally came to terms with the fact that our religion is called the "Christian FAITH" for a reason -- that is, it requires much faith to believe! We will never have every answer, and not every detail of history or of the Bible will ever be completely reconciled. The beauty of it, though, is that it doesn't have to be for our faith to continue.
While I am thankful that period of doubt in my life is over, I never want to stop being fascinated by the mystery of who God is. My prayer is that I will not be frustrated by what I don't know, yet I will also not be satisfied with what I already DO know. May we all seek to continually understand the complexity and mystery of our great Savior.
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