The Darkness has Not Overcome

Fear is sneaky.

Most days, especially when the sun is shining, I can function normally and leave the rest to God.

But then there are the times when the days have been gloomy and the girls have been testy and night falls and I'm left feeling like the locomotive of COVID-19 is barreling down the tracks toward my family and it's only a matter of time til it hits and all I can do is hunker down and wait.

On one such night last week, I actually did something right about my emotions. I talked to my husband (who's been a voice of calm in the insanity of the last few weeks) and then went up to bed and opened my Bible.

(I'm working my way through "The Story," an adaptation of the NIV that presents the words of Scripture, while in selections, as one continuous story. Reading it is much like reading any other book, with breaks for chapters rather than separate books with chapters and verses. While there are brief editorial breaks to explain themes or summarize missing sections, it's largely simply the Biblical text, and it's been a nice way for me to get a new perspective on passages that otherwise have become rote.)

I opened to my bookmark, and this is the first thing that met my eyes.

That's where the stirring of the Holy Spirit stopped me, and what I believe He impressed on my heart was exactly what I needed at that moment. I'd like to share it with you, in the hope that you may be encouraged, too. It's maybe not completely cohesive, but hopefully it's coherent!

In the beginning - As God was speaking planets and molecules into existence, He already knew that the year AD 2020 would find a pandemic sweeping the globe.

He knew it all: the beginning of COVID-19 in China; Italy's anguish; that hospitals would be unprepared; the steady creep of the disease from our continent's coasts toward its interior. He already knew every detail of what was coming, including the ones we don't know yet.

He isn't surprised; He isn't less good; He isn't less in control.

the Word - Jesus, "the Word," is the sum total of God's message to humanity. He's the culmination of everything God had said before the New Testament, everything God has promised to say to His people, and everything God is ever going to say. Think of it! All this embodied in one 33-year life on planet Earth. (Spoiler alert: His life and teaching still have ramifications for us today!)

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. - Seventh grade science tells us humans are made when an egg and sperm fuse to become a zygote. This mono-cellular carrier of a complete genetic code has all the information necessary to bring into being a fully functioning adult man or woman.

John, the writer of the above passage, tells us that it is actually an egg, a sperm, and God who make each person (although maybe not in that order...).

Psalms says God knitted my children together within my womb.

This is an issue of personal workmanship!

If I take pains that the frisky cat not claw up the afghan I crocheted - if I delight in the art and craftsmanship of my hand and my husband's and our friends' - if I hang these things on my walls and store them gently when they're not on display - how much more does my God care for the two miraculous lives He designed, built, and brought to life? We're not guaranteed a pass on suffering or even on infection, but He knows. He understands. My fear, my attempt to trust, my weakness in the face of the unknown, all of it.

And He loves my daughters more fiercely even than their mommy and daddy do, and He will work all things to good. They are safe in the hands that made them. (And while I still pray that my husband and I will be allowed to raise our children to adulthood, I also thank God for allowing us to raise them this day.)

life/light - In this time of disease, we understand our need for life much like we understand our need for light only when in a dark room in the middle of a power outage. Jesus possessed the life that was the light of all mankind.

And we killed it.

The darkness in you and the darkness in me rose up and extinguished Him. (We spend a lot of time talking about the good in everyone, but why would we put so much effort into proclaiming our goodness if there wasn't actually darkness - sin - there, too?)

He was dead.

Gone.
Kaput.
Laid in a grave.

(Have you been to a funeral? Looked in a casket? Seen it prepared to be lowered into the ground? How many of those people do you see walking down the sidewalk a week or two later?)

And for two days, it looked like the darkness had overcome.

But.

But then?

Then came Easter morning.

Clocks, Cursive, and Dinosaurs

I came across an interesting Facebook post a while back. Someone was lauding a decision by a British school to no longer teach children to read analog clocks. He compared it to American public schools removing cursive from their curriculum and celebrated both decisions as education removing archaic burdens that no longer have a place in our technological century. I disagreed, but looking at the comments, realized that it had become a collection of long arguments. I wasn't about to engage in that, since I was primarily on Facebook for 3 minutes of entertainment and not to enter into a debate with adults subtly calling each other dumb. Besides, I hadn't fully formulated my reasons for disagreeing with the person's conclusions. (Plus, Facebook is a poor forum for debate or objective analysis . . .)

A week or more later though, I was having trouble falling back to sleep after a nighttime feeding for Baby, and I found my mind cycling through the cons to the school's decision. That's when I realized that I did care.

First, I decided, it's hard to call any morally-neutral learning useless.

One fairly well-known analogy for understanding the brain is the brain as a muscle. Researchers have seen it light up on scans when learning occurs, and we know that new learning prepares it for more learning. Memorization, new skills, new knowledge, aid in brain plasticity, which creates a healthy brain environment. Seriously, if people can make an argument for learning Latin, a dead language, surely knowing how to read a clock face - something that is still present in nearly every life setting - could be a good life skill. (Yes, practically everyone has a cell phone in their pocket now to aid them should they not be able to read the time, but do we really want our children to be MORE dependent on their phones?)

We also know that skills we learn when younger stay with us longer and integrate into a level of naturalness better than those learned later in life. Examples from my life of things I learned early and used often: tying shoes, playing piano, writing papers, cooking, cleaning, typing, and gardening. On the other hand, later in my life, I've attempted to learn to play the guitar, speak Spanish, write in italics, and format a paper in the APA style, with varying degrees of success. I can adapt the first list to my needs now, even if they're not used strictly in the exact nature in which it was taught (I don't write papers anymore, I blog; I don't often sit at a computer and type, but I'm familiar with the keyboard on my phone screen for texting; I don't always wear shoes with laces, but I can make a lovely bow when decorating gifts or craft projects). The things I wasn't taught when I was young aren't available to me in the same enriching way. Just because the application of a skill (like writing in cursive or reading an analog clock) may be elusive, it doesn't mean we need to send it the way of the dinosaurs.

Secondly, kids don't need a dumbed-down environment; they need a healthy one.

When I say this, I don't mean Lysol wipes and rubber mats. (Did you know that there is a recent trend to make playgrounds less "safe"?) Even the church has fallen prey to this one. Sunday school and youth group is plagued by curriculum filled with bite-sized theology. We pull kids out of the large group in the church service and send them off to children's church. (If you think I'm getting away from the morally-neutral premise of the first point, I'm not. How are kids going to learn to sit and pay attention in a world of sound bites and flashing screens if we don't ask it of them? How are they going to see themselves as part of a whole culture if they're only ever sequestered with those of their own age group? How are they going to learn to value other perspectives if they are only given one? How are they going to understand where they came from if they never interact with those who have gone before? How are they going to get good at thinking about things if we do all their thinking for them?)

No, what kids need is someplace they won't be preyed upon because they're weaker, where manners and how to apologize are modeled, where they know they're loved enough that it's ok to make mistakes and maybe even (gasp!) fail. They need someone who requires them to persevere in the face of obstacles. They need encouragement to do things that are hard at first.

If schools aren't going to be a place like that, maybe our kids shouldn't be there.

"I Had No Idea"

We've all had those life experiences we look back upon and say, "I had no clue what I was getting into."

Two-year-olds (like N this morning) may learn that Mom and Dad tell them not to touch an electrical outlet for a reason.

Middle school kids often find that friendship drama is more than they bargained for.

A teen may find college harder to navigate, more work, or even more enjoyable, than they thought going into the experience.

Adults have their own versions of being irreversibly over their heads: a new job, owning a home, marriage, parenting. And it seems, no matter what sort of measures we take to be prepared going into it, there are just some things in life you have to experience to really grasp what it's like.

And then, of course, there are the life events we hardly comprehend to prepare ourselves for.

Our two-year-old is coming up on one such event, and try as we might to prepare her, she honestly has no idea what's in store for her. But, she'll figure it out sometime in January.

All In

If I thought I didn't post very often before a child landed smack-dab in the middle of my life, I had another thought coming.

I wish I had posts niggling away in the back of my mind, just itching to run through my fingers into the computer keys, but I don't. It's as if I've not only lost the time but also the contemplative power to post.

Is my mind too full of to-dos and what-ifs to ponder anything beyond/above myself and my day? Or maybe I've allowed my mind to snack on diversions rather than dig into a feast of actual thought.

Or maybe this parenting thing is just completely all-encompassing.

Parenting isn't something a body can do halfway. A person really has to be all in - or not at all. Good parenting, bad parenting, that's another topic entirely; but if you're going to raise a little ankle-biter, it's going to completely revamp your life.

After N was born, someone told us that having a child was the most unselfish decision a couple could make. I'm still thinking having the SECOND child is least selfish, because then you have an idea of what you're giving up:
the right to your own glass and plate;
the ability to do a task from beginning to finish without interruption;
the possession of your own bed;
the luxury of using the bathroom by yourself;
the chance to sleep through the night;
the pursuit of hobbies, reading, and other interests;
and on and on and on . . .

N and I were at the town kiddie pool yesterday. It's a little wading area set off from the main pool, starts at 0" and gets to 1' 6" at the "deep" end. It comes complete with nine little fountains of water, three sets of three, spraying, bubbling, and shooting in their respective places. A favorite activity of the young patrons is to step on one of the fountains in a set, causing the others to spray further than normal.

N, taking everything in as she does, saw the "big" kids doing this and decided she would get in on that action.

She pulled herself out of the 4" section, hurried her way to the deep end, and flopped her toes down on the first fountain she came to.

Surprise!

The water shot between her toes and, rerouted by her interference, squirted right up into her face!

Shocked and a utterly perplexed, she backed up, furiously wiping water from her eyes. I wanted to laugh, but instead put on my compassionate face and helped her dry her face.

"Did the water squirt you?" I asked.

"Uh-uh," she answered with quivering lip.

"Here, use your whole foot, like this," I demonstrated.

And she did! She was so proud! Stepping on the fountain like the big kids!

She just had to go all in.

I Must Be a Mom

Why?

Because . . .

I describe sleeping in four-hour increments as a "good night's rest."
The phrases "That was a good burp," and "You can do it! Fill that diaper!" have crossed my lips more times than I care to know.
Bodily excretions - even flying ones - no longer phase me.
I am more likely to catch vomit in my hand and then be pleased so little hit the carpet than be grossed out by it.
I lost my heart at the same time I lost my mind.
I eat like there is a deadline - because there usually is.
I am never so happy as when N finally goes to sleep . . . except when she wakes again.
My living room looks remarkably tidy when it is not clotted with waiting laundry baskets.
I am beginning to realize the virtues of a "mom hair cut."
I spend hours staring at one little face and it never gets old.
I smile when I see a crusty patch of dried drool on my chest because it marks the spot where my daughter slept.
People are extremely understanding when I arrive late or early with an explanation beginning, "The baby . . . "
I feel that knowing look come into my eyes when women start whipping out labor stories.
I speak in a high-pitched voice and refer to myself in the third person . . . a lot.
An exceptionally productive day means the dishes and laundry got done and I have a plan for supper.
I think the morning sunlight streaming through my bedroom window is put to shame by the brilliance of one little girl's smile.

36 Weeks

I decided it is time for a lighter post, and, in anticipation of hitting the eight month mark later this week, thought to go through a bunch of old wives' tales regarding the baby's gender. Time will tell which are correct!

1. Sweet vs salty cravings? Sweet = girl
2. Morning sickness? No = boy
3. Glow or no? No = girl
4. Daddy's weight? Gaining = girl
5. Moody vs mellow? Mellow = boy
6.  Baby's heart rate? Above 140 = girl
7. Legs swelling? Yes = boy
8. Eat ends of bread? Yes = boy
9. Chinese calendar = girl
10. Mom's complexion? Acne = girl
11. Dreams? Both (more boy dreams earlier in the pregnancy, more girl dreams recently)
12. Clumsy vs graceful? Clumsy = boy
13. Toddlers' interest? Yes = girl
14. Preferred side to rest on? Left = boy
15. Showing hands? I showed the tops = boy
16. Crave protein? No = girl
17. Temperature of feet? Warm = girl
18. Hair on legs? Not growing quickly = girl
19. Nose appear to be growing or widening? Yes = boy
20. Headaches? No = girl
21. Picking baby names? Picking a girl's name came easier = girl
22. Carrying height? High = girl
23. Carrying in front or on sides? In front = boy
24. Shape of mom's face? Rounder = girl
25. Key test? I pick up keys by the large end = boy
26. Mayan calendar = boy

So, there you go! Out of 26 tests, 14 claim we're having a girl, 11 say it's a boy, and one is inconclusive.

Oh! And I haven't struggled with heartburn, so our baby is bald (but I could have told you that anyway . . . ).

Practically science.

Settling for My Dream

Four years ago, I was a junior in college, signing up to take the GRE, starting to think about grad schools for my master's, enjoying life. Looked forward four years from then, I saw myself finishing my master's this spring, looking for jobs, ready to go out and pay off student debt, find a place of my own - maybe Boston or San Diego, travel (eventually) to Italy and Greece.

I didn't always want to be a career woman.

Once upon a time, my sole goal in life (other than being a missionary to China like Gladys Aylward or a horse rancher) was to be a wife and mother. The problem with my dream was that high school ended, and no requisite husband showed up.
I took a year off of school to become a licensed piano teacher.
Still no applicant for husband.
Then I took two years of college while dating a young man.
That didn't work, so I got a job for a year.
Still no man.
So I went off to school again. "Plan A didn't pan out," I thought, so I moved on to Plan B.

Then, life blew up (quite literally) three and a half years ago, catapulting me back to Plan A.

Now, here I am, preparing for my hugely anticipated promotion to the position of mother.

From the outside, it might look as if I've settled.

Instead of looking for promising career opportunities, I am looking for new recipes for supper.
Instead of driving to classes or a job every day, I walk a few blocks to a part-time job that doesn't pay much above minimum wage and busily page through books of prenatal and postnatal information in my down time.
Instead of writing research papers and reading peer-reviewed journal articles, I am writing grocery lists and researching the best way to contain dirty diapers until they can be washed.

Yeah, that might look like settling.

But to me, it's living my dream!

Lemonade

Before you read today's post, I would like you to watch this video.

I appreciate how Chris Rice takes an old adage, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," and turns it into a song of appreciation for all that God gives. As another year swings around, I am reminded of our daily blessings - blessings far more abundant than I have any right to expect. Gift after gift rolls to mind with only a few minutes' contemplation.

But, beyond the goodness of a lemonade-giving God, I am not even drinking it alone. I get to share a glass with a man who also thanks God for it as he drinks deeply of our life together.

And God isn't even finished yet.

We are announcing that we are going to need another straw!