Do It Again!

In recent Cranford baby news, Eli has learned the logistics of "peekaboo," and Michael and I find it hysterical. He will cover his own face, wait for me to ask, "Where's Eli?!", then swiftly pull the blanket away and with huge eyes, wait for me to say, "There he is!!" I'm fascinated that he has discovered the predictability of it all, and I'm even more fascinated that it never gets old. If I had the patience, he would be thrilled to play the game from morning to evening.

This is why the following quote from G.K. Chesterton hit home with me this afternoon as I meditated on our human nature. While human depravity is sometimes quite overt in our little ones--as seen in the bathtub when great whining ensues after I take the washcloth from Eli--how much greater is that depravity evident in us as parents in the way we respond to our children. As many mothers (including me) struggle with the tedious nature of raising little ones, G.K. Chesterton reminded me of the great privilege of being a parent and seeing in my child a bit of the nature of God. What a beautiful image!

"Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."

A Hot Day in June.

Now that I'm a mom, I have to weigh my decisions very carefully. A short stop in the mall could have effects well into the evening, if Eli decides not to cooperate. "Skipping" a nap could mean terribly unfortunate consequences for our family--like right now, in fact. Eli has been out all day and is currently laying on the floor, not a care in the world, crying for mommy to come play with him. His day is off kilter because we've been out and about in the big city. BUT, he is learning to be flexible, and that's never a bad thing.

Where were we, you might ask? Well, this morning we had the distinct privilege of visiting the Billy Graham Library in order to get Louis Zamperini (yes... the subject of my previous post) to sign the book Unbroken. At 94 years old, he spent two hours straight signing books. I was accompanied by a dear friend and coworker, and all three of us waited in line for 1.5 hours, hoping he would still be signing books by the time we reached the front of the line. Dripping with sweat, holding an umbrella to shield us from the sweltering heat, pushing a stroller, and holding Eli, I began to question my sanity in deciding to venture out this way.

All was well in the end and we are glad we went, despite the discomfort of the aforementioned. Unfortunately, the "photographer" who snapped the photos above was in a hurry and clearly not keeping my best interest at heart, which was to manage a photo with all four of us in it: me, Jane, Louis, and Eli. Oh well... I'm thankful for both the opportunity to meet Louis and to read the story that God chose to tell through his life.

Now back to managing my day!

What stays with you latest and deepest?

I am not an animal person. While I won't condemn those of you who are pet lovers, I will say that I don't understand you. :-) Of all the intrinsically valuable things I can think of, domestic animals would never cross my mind. Puppies and kittens are cute, but only if they aren't mine. Once they become my responsibility to care for, feed, groom, and yes... LOVE... I give up.

If you just gasped out loud at my ice cold heart, you can keep reading. This post actually has nothing to do with pets, but my aversion to domestic animals is what kept me from reading Laura Hillenbrand's famous novel Seabiscuit. Shamefully, I had little interest in reading a story about a horse. Maybe that's why I never enjoyed Black Beauty?

I did not, however, pass up the opportunity to read her NEWEST novel, Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. Published and released last October, the book details the life of Olympic runner Louis Zamperini, who enters WWII as a bombadier, wholly ignorant to the tumultous future ahead of him. Growing up, he was, as Hillenbrand says, a "one-man insurgency," wreaking havoc on his community and constantly shaming his parents. Once he enters the Air Force, his life is forever changed as he comes dangerously close to death on countless occasions. His experiences, like so many others during the war, are horrifying and difficult to fathom.

Hillenbrand spent nearly a decade researching, interviewing, studying, and writing in preparation for this novel, despite a chronic illness that keeps her confined predominantly to her bedroom or office. She tells the story as if it's fiction, making each event, person, and place come alive on the page. Not only that, but her tone is appropriately somber and respectful in all the right places.

Like David, Solomon, or Abraham, who encountered both gross sin and abundant grace throughout their own lives, Zamperini bucks against the authority of God and is met with miraculous provision. If ever a person seemed to have reason to doubt the existence of a loving Creator, Louis did. If ever a person seemed to have reason to become embittered, broken, and self-consumed, Louis did. But God in His sovereignty knew better.

To say that I enjoyed this book is an understatement. I was awed, humbled, and convicted in so many ways, and after a conversation with a colleague of mine, I came away agreeing with her. Every American should read this book. Maybe even twice.

This is a picture of Louis examining the flak from his beloved B-24.

As Summer Begins...

How, I've often wondered, does Ecclesiastes complement the rest of Scripture? How can Solomon offer such profound wisdom found in Proverbs and also speak so disparagingly about the vanity of life found in Ecclesiastes? This particular book of the Bible has always bewildered me, coercing me to do what many Christians do in the face of puzzlement and confusion: ignore it, like we ignore the space behind the microwave or the cobwebs in sundry corners of our house.

Much of the book finally made sense after reading Doug Wilson's book Joy at the End of the Tether. In it, he states:

"Under the sun, vanity is God's scepter. For those who fear Him, He gives the gift of being able to actually enjoy this great big marching band of futility--the tubas of vanity bringing up the rear. God gives to a wise man the gift of watching, with a pious and grateful chuckle, one damn thing after another. All things considered, the furious activity of this world is about as meaningful as the half-time frenzy at the Super Bowl. But a wise man can be there and enjoy himself. This is the gift of God."

So much of this world is swimming in vanity, but God again, as He has done all throughout history, sovereignly allows His people to observe and even participate in the futility with the knowledge that He is the King of all--even the trivial, mundane in our lives. We have the unique permission to laugh about it all, just as God does (Psalms 2:4).

As we have attended two graduations over the last two weeks, I have spent time reflecting on the seasons of our lives (not to be confused with Days of Our Lives...) How they come and go, bringing blessings and cursings with each of them. How they can provoke sadness or nostalgia, bitterness or grief, and how too much time spent in such remembrance is unhealthy to the effect that we forget the present. As I am in the midst of an entirely new, exciting phase of my life--motherhood--I have simultaneously said goodbye to my high school years when the only stresses I experienced were the Latin test I had to take and whether I would sit beside "the boy." I have said goodbye to the Saturdays in college when I would sleep until 11 or 12, have brunch in the caf, and waste away the day by the pool. Do I miss those days? YES. Simplicity characterized my life then in so many ways. I treasure every moment of those phases in my life because of the people I met, the places I went, and what each of those contributed to the person I am today.

Nonetheless, I am reminded to be content with and enjoy the season of life I am in. Each season has its gifts, and lest I wake one day to grieve over the realization that I didn't redeem my time then, I pray daily that God would give me joy during this season--even if it's characterized by the following "changes:"

• The urgent need to be home by seven due to little man's bedtime.
• The severe anxiety brought on by post-sevenPM (aka Eli's bedtime) thunderstorms.
• Folding so many clothes on a daily basis. So many.
• Weighing the pros and cons of a breezy stop at the gas station to get a drink. (Is it REALLY worth it?)

I also pray that with each season that arrives, I glory in it. Not because I didn't enjoy the one that came before, but because God, in His perfect, orderly creation, has seen fit to sustain, bless, and protect me whether I'm at senior prom, sitting in a college classroom, or pureeing the fifteenth helping of carrots for our little man.

Six months later...

At merely days old, Eli was met with nurses ready to prick his feet at every turn in order to check his bili#*&^! levels (the word is still an expletive in our house). Perhaps because I was a new new mommy then, or perhaps because I couldn't internalize the true humanity of our little boy, but the pricks didn't hurt me so much then. I had a strong desire to comfort him and make it all better, but something changed between then and yesterday.

Eli had his six month check up yesterday--yes, read: more shots. Somehow and for some reason, more painful for me than all the others combined. There he lay, chewing contentedly on his *favorite* toy (refer to picture above), and out of nowhere the nurse rocks his world... then applies the first band-aid. Then she rocks his world all over again, in the other leg! This was painful for me, folks. He had no idea what was coming, and it was like the entire universe wronged him. This experience has forced me to begin preparations for when I might actually have to restrain him before a shot...

On a positive note, his growth is wonderful. At a whopping 17lbs 6 oz, he's loving life. The pediatrician said he could see the small beginnings of a tooth, so we're readying ourselves to deal with that experience. He's learning to sit up unassisted, and we're near the point of proverbially throwing in the towel on the whole "rolling over" thing. Still nothing from our little man, but the pediatrician doesn't seem to be worried. We keep reminding him that he has a very active cousin to keep up with, but he pays no attention.

As I celebrated my first Mother's Day, I was reminded again of God's faithful provision in our lives. He has sustained us through Eli's first six months and we cannot wait to see what the next six months holds--even if it doesn't include Eli rolling across the room to reach his wanted destination.

We love food!

Of all the things to address in my effort to catch up on blogging, the open-faced tuna melt is the only thing that comes to mind. Yum. Yum. Yum. Using a Taste of Home Healthy Style Cookbook, I've been selecting affordable, delicious, and low calorie recipes to try out. I feel like a poor man's Julia Child, but Michael hasn't complained too much about our recent dinners, especially not the tuna melt! Here's the recipe if you're interested. One serving is only 276 calories!

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup fat-free mayonnaise
• 2 tablespoons chopped green pepper
• 1-1/2 teaspoons chopped onion
• 1-1/2 teaspoons chopped celery
• 1-1/2 teaspoons prepared mustard
• 1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1 can (6 ounces) tuna, drained and flaked
• 2 hamburger buns, split and toasted
• 4 slices tomato
• 2 tablespoons shredded reduced-fat cheddar cheese

Directions

• In a small bowl, combine the first six ingredients; stir in tuna.
• Spread over each bun half; top with a tomato slice. Sprinkle with
• cheese. Place on a baking sheet. Broil 3-4 in. from the heat for 3-5
• minutes or until lightly browned and cheese is melted.
  
• Yield: 2 servings.

Nutrition Facts: 2 sandwich halves equals equals 276 calories, 5 g fat (2 g saturated fat), 34 mg cholesterol, 833 mg sodium, 28 g carbohydrate, 2 g fiber, 28 g protein.

An update from our world...

HELLLOOOOO!
Eli's baptism!

Eli is 20 weeks old today, and yes I am still counting his age in terms of weeks. My maternal nature is in full swing as I can’t imagine my life without our little man. Admittedly, I spent the first six weeks of Eli’s life with extreme anxiety, trying to adjust to having this little soul in the house with us, requiring my full attention, constant care, and all my waking hours. 20 weeks later, Michael and I are sleeping at least eight hours at night (that’s more than we were getting before Eli’s arrival!), I have proven that I CAN cook, clean, and fold laundry while Eli is awake. Sometimes he’s quiet and will watch me do any number of those things. In particular, Eli loves sitting in his Bumbo on the counter while I cook dinner and wait for daddy to come home!

At his four month well check, Eli weighed 14 lbs 13 oz, only six ounces less than his six month old cousin Claire! He smiles constantly and laughs to himself when we put him in the exersaucer. I can rest him on my hip without the threat of his head bobbing backwards weakly. He has rolled over a record of three times, and that was two weeks ago. We’ve gotten nothing since then. I’m not convinced he can’t do it, but his temperament indicates that he probably just doesn’t care at this point. He is very observant and studies strangers closely with his tiny brows furrowed in suspicion. We’ve been increasingly aware of his need for interaction, which isn’t altogether a bad thing. If I lay him down on the blanket, it takes only minutes before he realizes I’m not there and will start to fuss. We’re working on this.

Eli is napping terribly but I’m crossing my fingers with the desperate hope that he is not like his daddy in this regard. Michael cringes at the very suggestion of taking a nap, but I refuse to give up my efforts of making Eli into a good napper. The past month or so, I can set my watch to the minute… He will only sleep around 40 minutes. Every. Single. Nap. This is crazy to me, considering that he went through a spell of sleeping 2-2 ½ hours at a time. We’re also working on this.

Studies show that younger children absorb and retain more information than those older than them. This might be true, but I feel like I have learned more about myself, marriage, children, and perhaps most of all, the character of Christ than I ever understood as a child. As we had Eli baptized on March 13^th, Michael and I felt the weight of responsibility being placed on us to raise Eli up in a consistently godly household. That means being holy in the solitude and quietness of our home. It also means confessing our sin often, to one another and to God, so that Eli grows up witnessing and imitating the faith that has been required of us by a gracious, merciful God. We feel undeserving of God’s bountiful care for us but take great pleasure in all He has given us and look forward to watching Eli grow in his faith.

And on those days that Eli wakes up 30 minutes into his nap, interrupting mommy’s reading time, I *must* remind myself that there’s a much larger tapestry being woven than the small piece of thread I’m grumbling about—even I can’t see it!