Jamie, Ean, and I decided to wake Spencer up this morning with a light-hearted rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Maybe it was the three different keys or maybe the massive volume, but Spencer didn’t like it very much. While most parent’s choose to take their 3 year-old to McDonald’s or Chuck E. Cheese or some place where they can deplete their energy, we decided to take him to my parent’s house. He does love his Poppa and Baybeth, but the main reason we had it their is because they just finished their basement and it pretty much ridiculous for us not to throw every party we are thinking of having over there. Seriously, why don’t I have a house with a basement? The party was nice. We had been planning a small, intimate Superman party for a Friday night, but ended up having it on Thursday so both sets of grandparents could be there. As Superman as it was, about 90% of the gifts were Pixar Cars related – so we may want to plan better next year.
Now here is the deal: Friday night worked for everyone except my dad and he is the reason it got moved to Thursday. Thursday nights are the night I practice with the Oak Leaf band. My wife knows that but assumed I could cancel. She made that assumption without letting me know she had changed the date and already sent out the invitations. It was tough, but I was able to get it all worked out. Ironically, it is usually me who is begging for her to change her plans to help me out. And it got me thinking, has anyone every thought about making some kind of spousal calendar contraption that is always in sync with its counterpart. That would be nice.
Spencer Turns 3!
Choose Life
My boys are growing up fast. I pray every day for wisdom on how to raise them in a way that pleases and honors God. My oldest son is 4 and is just beginning to understand the concept of “do good and good things happen, do bad and bad things happen.” We haven’t been able to get much deeper than that, but we’re working on it. Truth is, that simple, fundamental principle is Biblical lesson. Deuteronomy 30:15-20 basically says, “worship God and you will be blessed, don’t worship God and you will be cursed.”
Our future rests in the choices we make today. The sooner I can get my son to understand that, the sooner I can stop giving him my long, sermon-like lectures. I like to think he enjoys sitting still and hearing me use words that are not yet a part of his vocabulary. Of course, his constant squirming and interruptions to point out spots on the wall seem to contend otherwise.
Choose to love God, worship Him, walk in His ways, and obey His commandments, and He will give you life.
Sick Child Needs Healing Father
Around 6:00 AM this morning, I hear my son yelling “Daddy!” from behind his bedroom door. Immediately, I put down what I am doing and go to check on him. I tell myself at the same time I speak aloud the half-awake reasoning through the two layers of luaun, “It’s just a bad dream, Ean. You can go back to bed.” Another plea for “daddy” and I am broken. The door feels weighted down as the body of my 2 year-old leans against it asleep. As I wrap my seemingly enormous hands around his sides and elevate him to my chest, instinct tells me something is wrong. The excessive heat pouring out from his body could be felt through his pajamas. 101.7 was the read out on the hand-me-down thermometer. We try another one hoping it is more accurate, but the results are the same. It was real. Though Ean has not had a history of illness, this is the worst on record.
There were several important tasks I needed to get done this morning before I headed off to my second day at seminary. The moment I realized why my son was calling my name, everything else in life immediately seemed petty and peripheral. My morning routine became solely focused around the needs of my son and his well-being. Jamie and I laid him in our bed, stroked his back and head, and doted on him with countless variations of I love you and you will feel better soon. Promises to play his favorite movies or let him watch hours of TV became the parenting method of choice. Today was Eans day in our quaint and humble home. All other priorities were put on hold.
Several hours later, as Ean was now asleep again hovering around 101, I was rushing off to my classes trying desperately not to be late. The weather, a result from the devastating hurricane Katrina about that time knocking on New Orleans door, caused many drivers to run into each other creating even more delays for my already pressed-for-time commute to downtown Atlanta. During the stand-stills, I had plenty of time to wonder if my son was feeling better, think about what made him sick, and wonder what else I can do to help him feel better sooner. I began to see a parallel to my desire to comfort my hurting son and Gods desire to comfort his children.
2 Corinthians 1:3-6 says, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. If I desire nothing more than to provide love and comfort to my son when he is hurting, how much more does our Father in heaven desire to carry us and heal our hearts when we are despondent? Lyrics to an old Wayne Watson song come to mind:
Jesus, He meets you where you are
Jesus, He heals your secret scars
All the love you’re longing for is
Jesus, The friend of a wounded heart
When the pain of our failings hit home and we find ourselves crumpled in the corner by a door using the last once of strength to shout. Daddy, Daddy, we will soon hear the sweet sound of footsteps arriving. The door will open. Lifting us up in our most vulnerable moments will be the warmth of comfort, wrapping His arms around his child whispering, I love you over and over again.
