Years ago when we were still living in the seminary apartments women all over campus were getting pregnant. This was an "anomaly" that happened every couple of years and was always explained with "it's in the water." When my turns came with Kessedi, Emmet, and Karissa people said, "it must be in the water." Water must be a wonderful thing to make a child conceive! (No folks, this is not going where you think it is.)
Lately, we've been closely monitoring our children's development. Each month we weigh and measure the children ourselves and keep track of their progress on developmental charts. From the time he turned 2 until January, Emmet had not grown much - to the point of worrying his pediatrician and he uncle-pediatrician. Since moving here, Emmet has grown out of his 2T size pants and has nearly grown into his 4T pants - almost 2 inches! People say, "it's in the water." Maybe it is in the water. After all, we are living in what many call, "the land of giants." A lot of people here are tall. Perhaps some fertilizer is in the water?
Today we had the pleasure of entertaining friends from church for lunch. After eating we were visiting in the living room area. Along bobs a little brown-haired head with a pink and purple frame. Karissa took 5 steps without holding onto anything. She has since done this several times getting up to 6 steps in before she chickens out and goes down to her knees to crawl or gets so excited about her ability to walk that she starts to cry "yeah!", clap her hands, and lose her balance. I told my friend that some people won't believe it if I tell them she walked today. I told her they would think it was far too advanced for a 10 1/2 month old baby. (If you don't believe it, Robin said you can call her, just let me know and I will give you her number.) She explained this anomaly with, "it's in the water."
Wow. Water can make children conceive, boys grow and babies walk. That makes me thirsty.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Spring Has Arrived
We may yet get some snow, but it seems that spring may have actually arrived. Not only can we see grass, but some of it is now actually green. After worship yesterday, a friend brought to me a blade of grass that Kessedi had handed to him. He said she had been passing them out as gifts, excitedly explaining, "It's grass! Just like in Mississippi!"
And in honor of spring (or more just to do something different for ten minutes), I've updated the family website.
And in honor of spring (or more just to do something different for ten minutes), I've updated the family website.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Karissa's new signs
Karissa can now sign "diaper" and "milk" - she does them both the same, but definitely thinks she is signing different things when she does them. She comes to me when hungry and signs milk, then signs it while drinking. She also signs diaper and tries to say diaper while getting diaper changes.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Karissa loves me.
It was a moment of quietness. A baby previously fussy got her belly full and, although I thought she was tired before the bottle, I realized she was as awake as she could be. She, full and happy, starts to give me slobbery baby kisses on my cheek. I take my turn of course. Then out of the silence comes a sweet baby doll voice say, "die dove you." I looked at her, a little puzzled by the baby language, having not understood what she said, then repeated her words back to her and heard it for myself - "die dove you, oh you said I love you." She got a big grin and we snuggled some more, exchanging excited kisses.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Learning to Be a Better Son
The sensation of the afghan being stretched across my shoulder was a little unusual. The little hands that were doing it most certainly did not belong to my dear wife. When she blankets me, she has this delightful way of flinging the covering in the air and allowing it to settle just where its whims take it. No, this wasn't she.
There was care involved, but labored care, the care of one for whom stretching something over me, laying as I was on my side on the oversized couch, required the employment of tiny tiptoes. Afghan number one having been arranged as well as possible under those difficult conditions, some calculating must have occurred in a small brain near me, because the procedure was now repeated for my legs with afghan number two.
Even in my near unconsciousness, I noted that there was a square inch here or there that wasn't quite covered, but my sheer exhaustion wasn't the only thing that kept me from making any adjustments. After such monumental effort, could I really risk doing anything that might be heard or seen as "that wasn't good enough"?
My reward, far better than the most perfect coverage in the history of blanketing, was a hushed, almost whispered, newly-four-year old voice, "there you go, dad." The warmth of affection, the delight in having had an opportunity to serve me, from my son Emmet could have kept me warm if that forty-mile-per-hour Iowa wind had been on this side of the family room windows.
Do I view my heavenly Father like that? Does joy fill me when I recognize an opportunity to serve Him? Do my mind and body strain to perform that service as well as I can? Am I willing to spare everything--even my second blanket--in the process? Does my heart swell with satisfaction when the job is done, and I have given Him my very best?
I don't know if I have ever loved and served and delighted in my heavenly Father as well as my earthly son did me on that day.
It took four men and a specially constructed dolly to get the old, 56" upright piano into the garage, over the little bumps, through doorways, and around corners on its way to its new home in the rec room of our basement. One four year-old brain was perplexed by the inefficiency of it all. As we began the process, he announced to the one whom he perceived to be in charge, "Daddy could lift that whole piano all by himself!" Knowing that evidence must be marshalled for claims to such superhuman strength, Emmet punctuated his incontrovertible proof with a dismissive gesture of the hands,"When we get stuck in the snow, he just pushes the whole van just like that." Certainly, it would be evident that it was as easy for daddy to push a five thousand pound minivan as it was for him to push air.
Though Emmet's grasp of the limits of my power may be poor, I believe that on principle it's a very good thing for him to have such an opinion of his father. But I wonder, do I have such an opinion of my heavenly Father?
When I view some task as difficult, almost undoable, am I not failing to realize the strength of the One who is with me? If I had the faith of a good son, I could just do whatever my duty is and trust that the result is in the hands of a Father whose limitless power can do impossible things more easily than I can push air.
It's been interesting, being a human father. I had hoped that over time, being a father would teach me how to be a better father. I hadn't understood that one of the best parts of being a father would be...
learning to be a better son.
There was care involved, but labored care, the care of one for whom stretching something over me, laying as I was on my side on the oversized couch, required the employment of tiny tiptoes. Afghan number one having been arranged as well as possible under those difficult conditions, some calculating must have occurred in a small brain near me, because the procedure was now repeated for my legs with afghan number two.
Even in my near unconsciousness, I noted that there was a square inch here or there that wasn't quite covered, but my sheer exhaustion wasn't the only thing that kept me from making any adjustments. After such monumental effort, could I really risk doing anything that might be heard or seen as "that wasn't good enough"?
My reward, far better than the most perfect coverage in the history of blanketing, was a hushed, almost whispered, newly-four-year old voice, "there you go, dad." The warmth of affection, the delight in having had an opportunity to serve me, from my son Emmet could have kept me warm if that forty-mile-per-hour Iowa wind had been on this side of the family room windows.
Do I view my heavenly Father like that? Does joy fill me when I recognize an opportunity to serve Him? Do my mind and body strain to perform that service as well as I can? Am I willing to spare everything--even my second blanket--in the process? Does my heart swell with satisfaction when the job is done, and I have given Him my very best?
I don't know if I have ever loved and served and delighted in my heavenly Father as well as my earthly son did me on that day.
It took four men and a specially constructed dolly to get the old, 56" upright piano into the garage, over the little bumps, through doorways, and around corners on its way to its new home in the rec room of our basement. One four year-old brain was perplexed by the inefficiency of it all. As we began the process, he announced to the one whom he perceived to be in charge, "Daddy could lift that whole piano all by himself!" Knowing that evidence must be marshalled for claims to such superhuman strength, Emmet punctuated his incontrovertible proof with a dismissive gesture of the hands,"When we get stuck in the snow, he just pushes the whole van just like that." Certainly, it would be evident that it was as easy for daddy to push a five thousand pound minivan as it was for him to push air.
Though Emmet's grasp of the limits of my power may be poor, I believe that on principle it's a very good thing for him to have such an opinion of his father. But I wonder, do I have such an opinion of my heavenly Father?
When I view some task as difficult, almost undoable, am I not failing to realize the strength of the One who is with me? If I had the faith of a good son, I could just do whatever my duty is and trust that the result is in the hands of a Father whose limitless power can do impossible things more easily than I can push air.
It's been interesting, being a human father. I had hoped that over time, being a father would teach me how to be a better father. I hadn't understood that one of the best parts of being a father would be...
learning to be a better son.
5APR08 What's New With...
... James. I just got back from Twin Lakes. Had a great week. More tired than usual on Saturday and wary of this choir thing that I agreed to permit after the fellowship meal tomorrow afternoon. Excited about both sermons, pleading with God that He would both enable me to keep the day tomorrow sacred and bless to me the keeping of it with refreshment and renewal of body and soul. There's supposed to be an article about me in this morning's Northwest Iowa Review; I haven't yet been out to pick up a copy to see/read it. There will be one next week in the Sioux County Capital Democrat.
... Heather. She seems well, has had a headache regularly, recently. Survived nicely without me this week. I think it's good for her--body and soul--that spring finally decided to arrive yesterday. There will be some ups and downs the next couple weeks, but some sun is good for her.
... Kessedi. Doing well in school. Has mastered the calendar and the clock; plugging along in reading and writing. She's about to begin learning to play the piano. Thanks to the diligence of a wonderful (not because he can locate pianos but for many better and eternal reasons) gentleman in the congregation, we have a new (very old and very good) piano. Kes is excited about that. We wanted her in youth soccer, but I think we missed the registration. I wish we lived in a neighborhood with sidewalks; we would all benefit from a catechism walk after supper every evening. She had her first haircut recently; much came off, but she still has a head-full of stunning locks. God grant her a gentle, quiet spirit to adorn her far above any physical beauty. Although quite the sinner (she gets that from me), one of my joys has been to watch the tenderness of her heart and care for and interest in others increase. If God spares her, I have some hope that she will be quite a woman of grace some day.
... Emmet. Doing very well in school. Definitely not learning like a four year old. One of my great challenges in life will be to disciple his affections and his will at the rate that his little brain is developing. Emmet is healthy, strong as an ox, active as a hummingbird. Praise God. This little one (Kessedi too) loves to serve me. Any time he recognizes something he can do for me, he leaps to do it. Oh that I would be with my heavenly Father the way that he is with his earthly one! Yesterday, when we were moving the piano in, Emmet stopped one of the gentlemen and said "Dad can life the whole piano all by himself! When we get stuck in the snow, he just pushes the whole van just like that" (and he gave a dismissive flick of his hands). Now, I think it's good for him to have such a high opinion of his father, even though he doesn't quite grasp the limits of my (to him) immense power. Again, would that I would have such an opinion of my Father in heaven, to whose power there actually are no limits!
... Karissa. Four teeth now. Knows all sorts of sign language and speaks several words and phrases intelligibly. It's almost as if she wanted to make sure I would know just how much I miss if I'm gone for three days. By the time I got back, she was signing "shoes" "diaper" "more" "milk" "cereal." I think I've caught her walking, but I'm not sure. At this point, when she's alone, she prefers to crawl. But she has this habit of standing, waiting for someone to walk by, then catching a ride: grabbing onto pants, or a hand, or whatever she can and walking along. She continues to be just about the happiest baby I've ever met. It's almost disappointing--our children have been so 'easy' that I almost feel as if God is saying that we couldn't really handle anything more difficult at this point. Truly, though, thanks be to God for His mercy to us and to her. There are so many challenges in knowing what's going on in her soul, not the least of which is that she can't really tell me yet. What an exciting, important time in her life.
... Heather. She seems well, has had a headache regularly, recently. Survived nicely without me this week. I think it's good for her--body and soul--that spring finally decided to arrive yesterday. There will be some ups and downs the next couple weeks, but some sun is good for her.
... Kessedi. Doing well in school. Has mastered the calendar and the clock; plugging along in reading and writing. She's about to begin learning to play the piano. Thanks to the diligence of a wonderful (not because he can locate pianos but for many better and eternal reasons) gentleman in the congregation, we have a new (very old and very good) piano. Kes is excited about that. We wanted her in youth soccer, but I think we missed the registration. I wish we lived in a neighborhood with sidewalks; we would all benefit from a catechism walk after supper every evening. She had her first haircut recently; much came off, but she still has a head-full of stunning locks. God grant her a gentle, quiet spirit to adorn her far above any physical beauty. Although quite the sinner (she gets that from me), one of my joys has been to watch the tenderness of her heart and care for and interest in others increase. If God spares her, I have some hope that she will be quite a woman of grace some day.
... Emmet. Doing very well in school. Definitely not learning like a four year old. One of my great challenges in life will be to disciple his affections and his will at the rate that his little brain is developing. Emmet is healthy, strong as an ox, active as a hummingbird. Praise God. This little one (Kessedi too) loves to serve me. Any time he recognizes something he can do for me, he leaps to do it. Oh that I would be with my heavenly Father the way that he is with his earthly one! Yesterday, when we were moving the piano in, Emmet stopped one of the gentlemen and said "Dad can life the whole piano all by himself! When we get stuck in the snow, he just pushes the whole van just like that" (and he gave a dismissive flick of his hands). Now, I think it's good for him to have such a high opinion of his father, even though he doesn't quite grasp the limits of my (to him) immense power. Again, would that I would have such an opinion of my Father in heaven, to whose power there actually are no limits!
... Karissa. Four teeth now. Knows all sorts of sign language and speaks several words and phrases intelligibly. It's almost as if she wanted to make sure I would know just how much I miss if I'm gone for three days. By the time I got back, she was signing "shoes" "diaper" "more" "milk" "cereal." I think I've caught her walking, but I'm not sure. At this point, when she's alone, she prefers to crawl. But she has this habit of standing, waiting for someone to walk by, then catching a ride: grabbing onto pants, or a hand, or whatever she can and walking along. She continues to be just about the happiest baby I've ever met. It's almost disappointing--our children have been so 'easy' that I almost feel as if God is saying that we couldn't really handle anything more difficult at this point. Truly, though, thanks be to God for His mercy to us and to her. There are so many challenges in knowing what's going on in her soul, not the least of which is that she can't really tell me yet. What an exciting, important time in her life.
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