God Bless America

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I voted tonight. It was kind of a last-minute deal brought on by peer pressure. It wasn't that I'd planned not to vote, I just had better things to do. Things like working to effect real change beyond what the people I didn't vote for will be able to do (none of my guys made it). But I'll get to that in a minute.

I won't say that voting wasn't worth it. They gave everyone a Kit Kat at the end.

I managed to vote for one Democrat, one Republican, and one Libertarian. The Democrat was because his Republican foe is screwing up the university where I work by making everything about customer satisfaction, and eroding the academic culture he doesn't understand in favor of a business culture (which maybe he does understand, I don't know). The Libertarian was because his Republican foe didn't know where he stood on the very issues he was running on. Perhaps if his campaign manager had been running for office, I'd have voted for him. The Republican was because he was a judge that I know, and also because there was no one running against him.

The rest, I didn't know anything about. Maybe I was lazy and didn't brush up on all the candidates and where they stand on the issues. That's partly true. For the other part, I was too busy living a life of real change, beyond the empty rhetoric of those ascending to and descending from Washington. Not that my track record is squeaky-clean or honestly even that impressive. But it does exist. It exists in the form of building a family life on the foundation of new possibilities. It exists in the form of building a communal life on the foundation of ultimate hope, showing up now in tangible ways. It exists, but even more, it thrives.

And the fleeting hope of American politics pales in comparison to that kind of change. Tonight we swung the balance of power in the House of Representatives based on voter discontent. Come to think of it, we founded our country based on the same spirit of discontent: "We won't stand for x!" Just how far can you get on discontent? Even if you get pretty far, aren't you miserable the whole way? Don't you get wherever you're going by repeating vicious cycle after vicious cycle?

I heard someone describe one of the candidates who got elected as a breath of fresh air. We Americans get like this near election days. By "like this", I mean we get selective memories and forget the hundreds of times we've turned on the very people we looked to for change because the old discontent set in. How long before we're ready to skewer this most recent batch of elected representatives?

Where I work, I have a small window in on some of the less glamorous inner workings of government. I wouldn't say that affords me any power, just perspective. And while I see some buffoons, I don't see any more than I saw anywhere else I worked. What I do see is people who work very hard to make a very hostile system work. We Americans love to build massive machines to do our work for us, and think that if we can keep them running then everything will work out okay. Some of the politicians who we scorn the most have taken up the job of working in the sweatiest, most jerry-rigged parts of these unwieldy machines (or at least, they have aides who do), finding a way to keep things from grinding to a screeching halt, and it really is thankless work. It's not all schemes and power plays and conspiracies forged in secret - some of it is just plain dull, like everyone's job is.

So God bless these guys I didn't vote for. Their jobs are sure to suck, and we're sure to give them crap for doing those jobs no matter how well they do them - that's the kind of people we've been and are becoming. I hope some of them even get crap for doing the right thing, because Jesus said those people are blessed in his upside-down Kingdom. And God bless those who are making real change in whatever spheres of influence they have, however small, however imperfectly, and however unnoticed it goes. God bless us, discontent and cynical as we are. God bless America.

Making Do

If there's some do to be made, you can bet I'll make it. While there's nothing awesome about missing Kathryn and Ewan while they're away in San Antonio, there might just be something nearly awesome about this:

My Dinner

Spamwich: pan-seared Spam on toasted oatmeal bread, with olive oil-sauteed Roma tomatoes and sliced avocado. Oh, and mayonnaise, plenty of mayonnaise.

Top that off with only the finest glass of box wine, and my friends, you have a bacheloresque meal worthy of setting before the King of Texas himself.

And as luck would have it, I've still got two-thirds of my can of Spam left. Any suggestions?

Prayer and Profundity

Today my thoughts are with friends and family affected by unexplained/untreatable illness. I hope doctors can step up and find a cause, but if not, what else can we do but entrust ourselves to Jesus who has absolute authority over any and all disease? So that's what I'm doing today, for a fairly large number of people. May we be like the crowd, piling in together just to try and touch Jesus.

My other thought will hopefully put a smile on your face. I've also been thinking lately on the coming fullness of the now-and-coming Kingdom. Specifically, the anticipation of when the Lord does this:

He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.

In light of this, I suggest we all give tanks to the Lord.

Part Two, Kindness Crash-Course

Admit it. When I said last time that I'd be back in a couple of days to end the cliffhanger, you expected something more like a couple of weeks or months. I'll own it - go ahead and admit it.

So I had mentioned that I had two blogworthy adventure-experiences this past weekend. The second happened on our way back to Bryan from Houston. We'd made the first leg of the trip through Houston and were close to turning off 290 when Ewan made it clear he'd like a break from his carseat. So we stopped here (caution: the website contains background music). Frazier's was a nice place - lots of neat fountains, concrete, and such. After about 30 minutes, we decided it was time to get on the road if we were going to make it back to church in time (hint: a quick scroll down the page to see how long this post is ought to clue you in on whether or not we made it back in time... but hey, read it all - it's good stuff!).

We loaded up in the car, and were just about to pull out of the parking lot when I noticed a car with a flat right front tire, that had two ladies in the front seat. Thinking they were about to drive away not knowing they had a flat, I went up to point this out to them. Upon speaking with them, I realized a few things:

1) They were, in fact, aware of the tire, and had been since about noon. (The time now was about 3:05 p.m.)

2) There was actually a third person in the car, a little lady about 3 months old.

3) These poor ladies were in some deep doodoo.

There were the grandmother, the mom, and the baby. (I actually mistook the grandmother for the baby's mom - she couldn't have been older than her early forties - let's hope she took it as a compliment.) They had been calling all the tire places in Hempstead and having no luck finding a place open. The G-ma had called her sister, who lives in Round Rock, to come and help, but the sister was stuck in traffic in an accident in Elgin at the time I arrived on the scene (we later found out she had also gotten lost - which only makes sense... remember what kind of story I said this was?). So they were effectively stuck unless they could make it to Brenham, where the Wal-mart was still open and had a tire shop, unlike its counterpart in Hempstead.

But wait, there was another store in Hempstead, and the G-ma got on the phone and managed to speak to a person after having connected to the fax line all afternoon, and that person said that yes, they were open! If only we could get to the tire shop, they could get the tire and have the guys there put on the new one. If only. As it were, the ladies were without a lug wrench. At this point, my task seemed simple: find a lug wrench, put the spare tire on, and send the ladies on their way to the tire shop to get the new tire. Okay - first, find a lug wrench.

They didn't have one. Hm. Let me check my trunk. Oops, let me unpack it first. Nope, we don't have one either. Hm. Oh, maybe that guy - he's just sitting in his SUV watching his dogs and browsing his smartphone. Oh, you'd have to unpack your trunk? Never mind, wouldn't want to trouble you. What's that? Yes, I suppose I'm dog-friendly - I can watch them while you check for your lug wrench. Ah, you found one? Okay, I'll be right back - let me see if it works. (Time passes.) Nope, it didn't work. Thanks for trying, though. Oh, maybe those guys - they are leaving, but maybe since they're college guys they'll have a sense of service or adventure or something. Ah, so you are about to head out? But you wouldn't mind checking anyway? That'd be great. Oh, so you've now decided for the heading out. Okay. Thanks for the "good luck anyway", I'm sure that will come in handy at some point in the next couple of hours. Oh, maybe this Indian couple, they're just pulling up. (Awkward space where it's obvious I'm waiting for them to get out of their car so I can hit them up for something.) Sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you have a lug wrench? You'll check? Great, thanks! Aww, you don't have one? Well, thanks for looking. Well, hm. I could try the store owner. (I try the store owner. He left it in his trailer at home.) Hm.

Okay, new plan. If we can clear enough space in my car to take the G-ma up to the tire shop, we can ask them to borrow their lug wrench, go back to Frazier's, change the tire out for the spare, and drive back to the tire shop to put the tire on and return the lug wrench. So we make our way for the tire shop. Our conversation on the way:

G-ma: Thank you so much for helping. Do you know how many people we've talked to today who haven't done anything to help?

Me: No problem, glad I can help. (Then silence - I assumed this last one was a rhetorical question.)

G-ma: You're the 21st person.

Me: 21 people?

G-ma: That's right, and it's been really difficult with the baby - we're trying to keep her from getting too hot in that car.

Me: Yeah, and it's hot inside Frazier's (they only had A/C in the bathrooms). What's the baby's name?

G-ma: Serenity.

Me: That's a beautiful name.

G-ma: Thank you.

Me: So I don't know exactly where I'm driving - you said to go 290 towards Houston? I think I should take this first exit here.

After a couple more lucky turns on my part, we spotted the tire shop. I get out of the car, walk up to the door, and it doesn't budge. I check the sign in the window: OPEN, COME IN. I try the door again, and it continues not to budge. I walk around to the garage side. The gate is closed. As G-ma and I are starting to feel this sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs, a truck pulls up with a guy making signs to us that they are closed. He gets out of the car and confirms this. G-ma, as you might imagine, is not going to concede so easily. Without flipping her lid, she begins passionately explaining how the arc of her day has led her to this particular point in time, shortly after the point in time when she had called and they had said, "yes, we're open", and why at this particular point in time it was rather critical for her, her daughter, and her 3-month old granddaughter that they get the tire they need now, and not in a couple of days (if you'll remember last weekend, Monday was Labor Day - can you imagine how many places in Hempstead are likely to open on Labor Day? Neither can I.). To his credit, the guy agrees to take a look at the tire.

If you're hoping that this is the turning point in the story for the fortunes of the three ladies, I won't lead you on. They didn't have a tire, used or new, that would fit their car. Despite G-ma's attempt over the next 5 minutes to clarify this truth into some kind of communication gap, it remained a truth and not a misunderstanding. Hm.

We made our way back to Frazier's, though after making absolutely certain that all the tire shops on the main drag were also closed. By this time it was about 4:45. Having run out of options in Hempstead, and since her sister still wasn't close to arriving, I had to decide whether I would be able to continue helping by driving her to Brenham to pick up a tire at the Wal-mart there (which was probably going to be another hour round-trip), or if Kathryn and baby were going to be too worn out and sweaty and needing to get home before they reached their limit.

Unfortunately for the ladies, once I got back and talked to Kathryn, we decided we couldn't push Ewan past the couple of hours we'd already done. He'd gone for way too long without a nap, and the only place we could effectively make that happen for him would be at home. Upon talking with the ladies, I asked if there was some place in town I could take them where they could be in the cool air and not stuck in a car that wasn't cool enough. They said the Wal-mart would actually be a good place, since they were running out of diapers. We had a bunch of diapers with us that were the next size up from what they used, but I handed a few over just in case.

So I drove the ladies in town and dropped them off at the Wal-mart. They were grateful for the help we were able to give, but we were still sad that after all that, leaving them at Wal-mart was the best we could do.

If you think that's rough, I haven't even mentioned what Kathryn experienced during all that time. For a couple of hours, she'd been sitting on a bench outside of the store, with a baby in her arms, and next to a pile of some of our luggage (which we'd removed from the car to make room to transport the ladies-in-distress). Wanna take a wild guess how many people spoke to her and asked her if she was okay? For several of them, this involved walking by her twice - on their way in and out of the store. It included a couple with crosses hung around their necks, large enough for Kathryn to spot while they were still in the parking lot - they managed to look away at the last second and pass right by Kathryn. At least the woman from the Indian couple smiled at Kathryn as she went by.

That's right, in two hours, noone checked to make sure Kathryn and Ewan were okay. Maybe she didn't look distressed enough, I don't know. But I can't imagine the 2 women with the baby didn't at least look distressed enough for 20 people to do more than offer their sympathy.

It still amazes and troubles me. Let's hope they eventually got the help they needed.

A crash course (or two) in kindness

Adventures often seem to happen when you least expect them. Maybe that's part of what makes adventures what they are - but I don't think I've always known that about them. I would have probably thought adventures were 'started out on' or 'begun' in some intentional kind of way. Not mine. They tend to have humble beginnings in a subtle "oh, crap" moment, then gain a bit of momentum into the realization that "this is more of a mess than I first realized", moving right into the 'heat of battle' where there's no time for realizations, before finding some kind of resolution and a feeling somewhere between "that was awesome!" and "I had hoped never to have to learn that, but oh well".

As it were, I found myself on two such adventures just this past weekend. And both situations, it turns out, became studies in kindness: humanity at its best, and humanity preoccupied.

Our first adventure began Friday night, upon arriving in Houston at my sister's house for my mom's nth birthday party, to be held the following night (the party was to be Oscar Night themed, and Kathryn had gone to great lengths to make a Hollywood star for my mom): that was when we realized we'd left the star at home. We made an email to our friends and posted on Facebook, hoping there was a slight chance someone would be coming from Bryan to Houston Saturday - no luck.

We discussed our options. Although the four hours it would take to go back home and get it weren't feasible, we definitely both thought about it. There was the possibility of just making a new one, but we had a lot of preparations to make for the party that night. I thought, I'll try a last ditch effort and post on myBCS to see if we can connect with someone that way. So I did, but by this time, it's Saturday morning.

Fast-forward two hours - I've had two calls from people reading my post online, who are coming to Houston. The first one was coming with her family to the Houston Children's Museum, near downtown - which wasn't super close to Pasadena, but was certainly doable. This thing was going to turn out okay! The lady who called could drop by our house, and our housemate Sarah could put it out on the porch, then they'd pick it up, make their way to Houston, and finally I would meet them at the museum.

And that's what happened! People who we'd never met before made space in their busy schedule to help out someone in need. Think about your family dynamic when you are packing for a trip, or getting ready to head out the door. For most of us, it's probably not the time to think about what else we can fit in, unless it's our own stuff, and it's critical stuff that has to happen before leaving town for a few days (pick up prescriptions, take out the trash, etc.). But someone else's stuff? Bravo to our neighbor who was sensitive enough to life's unpredictability that she was ready and able to help a person in need. There's a term for that - it's called spiritual discipline. That, and it's also called kindness.

I wish I could say our other story painted as bright a picture of humanity at its best, looking out for the needs of others. In one sense it does, but it's at the same time more saddening. Don't get me wrong, it's a good story, but it's got its sad moments.

I'll try to get on here and tell it in the next couple of days. For now, I bid you good night. May you be blessed to give and receive kindness.

...but hopefully not at the same time

That's what I'm thinking after reading this on my bag of dried figs:

"Delicious paired with cheese and chocolate"

Happy Monday morning, everyone.

Debt-free.

As of today, Kathryn and I have paid off the last of our student loans. This marks the end to a long period of paying way more for our schooling than the initial price tag. It also marks the first time since my freshman year of college that I haven't had any consumer debt (okay, so technically we have a mortgage right now, but that's different enough).

But anyways. Debt-free! It's astounding to look back over the past year and think about all the Lord's done:

-Brought us Ewan when that should have been impossible

-Brought me a raise at just the right time

-Brought us out from under the weight of debt at just the right time

This certainly has been a "year of the Lord's favor".

And that's just the short list. There's more I hope to be sharing soon. But for now, we want to celebrate this. With a party. You're invited.

The View from Six and a Half Weeks

I've been leaving it up to this lovely lady to be the prolific blogger of the family for the past couple of months, but I think I'd be remiss to go much longer before sharing the inside scoop on some of what's been going on in my brain as we've begun experiencing the joy of parenthood for the first time.

I'll start shortly after where I left off last time. I'll start with...

Labor

It's actually a good place to start, because I don't think Kathryn mentioned much about it in her blog. Can't say I blame her, it was hard. Correction - labor was crazy. We did the Bradley method and took the class, so we were prepared, but we sure weren't ready, if there's a makeable distinction there. I think God's set birth up so that you're never quite ready - he's wrapped up the risks and wonders so tightly in there that new parents can't help but have an experience that will forever be deeply imprinted on their brains and hearts.

To spare you too much unpleasant detail, I'll just give you a representative sampling of some of what was going through my head throughout it all, in some semblance of chronological order:

-"I sure hope she lets me sleep a little longer, I've sure got a massive headache."

-"She says this is it, and she's in way more pain than Saturday... hmm, this is probably it."

-"I hate running around the house so much in the 2 minute window we have between the end of one contraction and the start of another, but I've got to get all this stuff ready."

-"All she wants me to do is rub this one spot on her back. What about this part of her back, doesn't it... okay, okay, I'm rubbing that spot!"

-"The timing's there, the intensity's there - let's get to the hospital."

-"You want me to park the car now?"

-"So is this our nurse? Couldn't we find one a little friendlier?"

-"6 cm - that's it?"

-time passes

-"6 cm still? Okay doc, if you have to break the water artificially to help us, I suppose that's what should happen."

-"Should Kathryn really be running around the room right now? Maybe this is transition."

-"Wow, her back has been hurting non-stop. This is a mess."

-"I'm sure glad my headache is gone, otherwise I'd be a mess."

-"Okay, good - 9 cm. After how hard that last hour's been, I don't think she could take much more of this."

-"Wow, she wants to push. Is this happening already?"

-"Damn it, nurse, stop playing with your scanner gun and check her again!"

-"Yes, she wants to be checked, just like I told you three times already."

-"It's pushing time!"

-"Still pushing!"

-"Lots of pushing..."

-"Poor Kathryn, she's working so hard and baby's still not that close."

-"We can see a little of the head!"

-"Hmm, we've been seeing that much of his head for a while now."

-"Good grief, this is so much blood. How did none of those horrible videos show this much blood?"

-"Doc's cutting her. This sucks. But I guess it's that or something much worse."

-"You can do it Kathryn, you're so close!"

-"Oh my gosh, there he is!"

-"Sorry, let me try cutting that cord again, it's so rubbery!"

-"Wow, Ewan calmed down just from my voice!"

-"Ah, finally Kathryn gets to hold him. Too bad she can only see a little out of one eye."

The first night

It was wonderful holding Ewan the first day. At the end of it, after a good bit of passing him around to all the grandparents, uncles and aunts of various generations, Kathryn and I were afforded time alone in the recovery room, just us and our baby. Having gotten a caffeine boost late in the afternoon, I was able to hold him while Kathryn caught some well-earned shuteye. Joseph wept. I just sat there and basked in the feeling that the Lord was just washing away old dust and dirt and making a new start. Not just was Ewan experiencing new life, I was a full recipient of it, too. And it was one of those rare moments in life where my feeling of it initiated my knowing of it. Usually I let my brain or my body take the lead, but this time it was my heart. So I cried. It was wonderful.

Who's afraid of a little poop?

Everywhere?

Not I, at least, not any longer. Despite the very large number of our friends with young children, and our regular rotation through the church nursery, I had managed to remain a novice at diapering. I wouldn't claim the title of expert just yet, but I've got the hang of it for sure now. And I have most certainly been initiated into the ranks of those who can say, with absolute candor: who's afraid of a little poop? Or: oh that? just a little poop, no big deal - it'll wash out. At times I'm even a little excited about poop, but just at the times when poop means Ewan's tummy is no longer hurting him.

Kathryn loves her Ewan

This might be one of the greatest joys of new parenthood, seeing my wife fall in love with our baby. It's both surprising and not at all surprising at the same time to me. I had every confidence in her that she'd be a wonderful mommy, but I really had no idea what she would look like in that role. She consistently remarks about how cute he is, and the sincerity of her affection isn't mitigated by her fatigue or headaches. She's head over heels, and what can I say? She's got great taste in babies.

It's gradual

Seeing as my last blog post was about anticipating how much life would change and how far upside-down my world would flip, what strikes me more about this period in my life is less how different it feels than how gradual monumental change can be. Sure, some monumental change can happen overnight, but surprisingly, having a baby doesn't feel that way to me. We've been eased into it to a large degree. It's when I start thinking about what having my own son will ultimately mean that I get overwhelmed at the thought of all that has to happen and how unready I am for all of it. But he can't read yet - so I don't have to worry about schooling. He can't run yet, so I don't have to worry about sporting. He hasn't even really realized he has arms yet - so we've got time. I'm sure some personalities are such that some people would use this time to figure all that stuff out, but for now, it just seems right to take one thing at a time and make the most of this sweet time in Ewan's life.

Even the disciples who swiftly and suddenly left their day-jobs and everything else that was their security at the time still had to follow Jesus the same way anyone else would - by putting one foot in front of the other. Not to put the how of following him on some kind of pedestal above the why or the who, but sometimes it's God's grace to provide me the realization that all that's going to be required of me isn't necessarily required of me all at once. And not that I'm holding anything back from him about how I might follow him in raising my son, but he'll provide it when I need it.

More to come

I'll try not to be such a stranger, interwebs and loyal reader(s). Since this is by no means a near-complete representation of even the highlights of being a daddy so far, I'll leave it to another time to give you more of the "inside poop", as one book we've received lately refers to it. As I sign off, I'll leave you with a fatherly blessing, which you can interpret into your life as you can reasonably metaphorically justify:

May all your diapers be snug, and may all your pacifiers be clean.

Changes

Any day now, our little boy will make his way into the world and turn it upside down for us.

From what I've heard.

And I don't have any reason to doubt those who tell me I have no idea how different, how new my life will be once the baby makes that big transition from fairly low-maintenance to ultra high-maintenance. Indeed, it's already starting to become that different.

I'm not sure that I handle transitions so smoothly - kind of like an engine low on transmission fluid. Even just the shift the past week or two from the frenzy of finishing house projects to the relative calm before the storm (a quick Google image search of "baby in a tornado" didn't net me anything useful to link to here) has been weird. We bought our house two years ago and never really finished construction on it or unpacking boxes into it until more or less now, and so coming down off of months of always having too much to do and trying to settle into a less busy pace is just ... not easy. We've got a little more time for a few days, but soon we won't. Crazy.

A month or so ago, after a stressful morning at work in which I was feeling the squeeze from work in addition to all the other life stuff stressing me out, I went to pick up Kathryn from her job so we could get lunch. After venting a little to her, she asked me, "Do we need to go to China King for lunch?" What a wonderful woman. That much at least will never change.

For everything else, though, I don't try to maintain any illusions that I'll recognize my life even as soon as a week from now. When I hold my son for the first time (and sob), endure my first week of sleep-deficient nights (sobbing), drive for the first time with an infant in the back seat (sweating), and whatever else the super-near future entails, I undoubtedly will feel like an alien in my own skin, but a happy one at that, like the ones that come and vacation on Earth and return to their home planets without leaving a credible piece of evidence that while they were really here, they weren't really from here. You know, that feeling.

Whether or not I recognize my life at that point isn't so important, though. Because it will be awesome. And I'll be the proudest dad there ever was, and we'll have the cutest baby boy there ever was, and Mommy will have had the easiest labor there ever was (a dude can dream), and we'll realize more deeply than ever the goodness of the Lord to us in giving this little person into our care.

I'll keep you posted. From the underside of the world.

The big push before the big push

I've noticed over the past eight months or so the way that expecting a baby can reorder life. I'd noticed it in other people before myself. In some men, though I wouldn't have called them irresponsible before, there's a marked difference in the seriousness with which they begin to approach life, and they really turn into good husbands and dads. As far as I can tell, at least - but it's hard to chock it all up to appearances when their kids are turning out so well, and I see firsthand (even if only once in a while) how they interact with their wives and kids. (In case you're the type of reader who likes to reread sentences in your head and make things sound weird, I should clarify that last sentence by saying that I don't personally know any polygamists.)

I've even thought some about my dad lately, and the good examples he sets. He would always drive the older (at times junkier) car and let mom drive the better or newer one. He would go out of his way to set up activities where he could spend quality time with me - including such things as building uneven bars for me in the backyard when I was in gymnastics, or pouring a concrete slab in the backyard and putting up a basketball goal when I was in basketball, or coaching my YMCA soccer team, though I'm pretty sure he'd never played soccer before, and I can only speculate as to whether he'd ever even seen a match prior to hanging the whistle around his neck. Probably, but who knows? He's also always gone to great lengths to engage me spiritually, and teach me the importance of knowing the Lord and making that central to everything that I do.

Is Kathryn's and my first child having the same impact on me? It's hard to tell - change for me usually tends to happen so gradually as to be difficult to notice on my own (maybe others can see it more clearly). All I know is that there hasn't been an abundance of time lately to sort all these things out. I would have strongly preferred to have all the major work on the house done months ago and spent most of 2010 reading and thinking deeply about the upcoming change to our family. As it stands now, cosmic diaphragms are starting to get sore for all the laughter at my naiveté for thinking that, amid all the things that we decided we needed to get done in the last several months, somehow we could have completed them in a more timely fashion than all the other do-it-ourselves endeavors.

Does God laugh at us the same way we laugh at children? Since I'm pretty much always laughing at them, I think I'm a more likely candidate than some to be a source of heavenly amusement.

I think this will be the perspective to help me be a good sport about achieving the following in the next few weeks:

-Planting six raised garden beds

-Installing window blinds throughout the house

-Finishing baseboards and trim

-Organizing a very unorganized house

-Finishing dining room table and chairs

-Having gutters installed (thankfully not something I'm doing myself)

-Refinancing the house

-Doing taxes

-Setting up a baby room

I'm sure there's plenty I'm leaving out, but that hits most of the big stuff. It's funny to think that a little baby could inspire such a frenzy of activity, that we begin to suddenly realign our whole lives in anticipation of something we know is coming, but isn't fully here yet in the sense that we know it will be soon enough. Yes, it's pretty obvious I'm going somewhere with this, which is here. Pretty amazing the way God has knit together all the kinds of new life he brings. It comes subtly, but surely (though, ask my wife, and she would say there's nothing especially subtle about the active little boy in her belly); hidden for now, but with signs, and the anticipation of a glorious breaking-in to the world. This is comforting for those of us who find difficulty living in the reality of a kingdom that we can't see by looking at life as it's packaged and sold by an eager world. Despite appearances to the contrary, I can say this with confidence, and in more ways than one:

He's coming. And I'll be ready.

Close Call on Crappy Coffee

A little over a week ago I nearly sold myself out for recognition and compensation. These guys were doing a jingle contest and I attempted to enter, only to be denied at the last minute by the contest website (yes, I waited until the last minute to try and submit my entry, but it was a very busy weekend).

That "SERIOUSLY?!" moment was quite a long time in the making. At first, I was hoping to do the contest with this guy, until we found out he makes too much of his money as a professional musician. Oh, well. Then I thought this guy would be fun to put a jingle together with, but it turned out to be not a good time for him. Oh, well. But all was not yet lost - we have no shortage of musical talent among our comrades, so I gave this guy a call, and he returned an enthused, "let's do it!" Only, schedules didn't jive, I think some illnesses got in the way (oh, well), and long story short, it's February 27th and I've got less than 48 hours to put my song and video together.

So I decide to go solo (well, sort of - I know I can talk my lovely wife into putting something amazing together for the video in a very short amount of time, and she certainly did, as you'll soon see). Oh, and this is the weekend that we're working on the house, have both sets of family in, have our first baby shower, and meet and chat with our future housemate for the first time - but no big deal, we'll squeeze in cutting a music video, somehow.

The deadline is 11:00 PM (midnight Eastern Standard Time), February 28th. Wouldn't you know, we get to about 9:00 PM and I'm still finalizing the song, no video shot yet. We get to about 10:00 and we're just getting the camera rolling. 10:30, Kathryn's editing the video on our low-end laptop (PSA: don't edit video on low-end laptops). 10:48, the video file is exporting. 10:53, I'm furiously typing on the first of three screens on the contest website, hoping to get my personal info and the video submitted in the next 7 minutes. 10:56, the website malfunctions and won't take me to the screen to upload my video.

This is a true story.

10:59 - 11:01ish, Kathryn pulls up the correct screen on the other computer, I throw the video on our jump drive like a mad man, rush to the other room, and get it uploading.

Shortly after that, we get a failure message from the website - they obviously shut it off at 11:00.

No problem, I'll just email the company, explain the issue their website caused, and hope that someone will have the consideration to let me send in my video still, somehow. Two days later I receive a CYA response, with the applicable portion of the contest rules copied and pasted into the email. I was actually impressed how many scenarios they'd thought of beforehand, that they did have actual control over, for which they found a way to excuse themselves of any liability or responsibility.

Oh, well. I suppose the bright side has two parts to it:

1) I don't have to endorse coffee I would never drink, and

2) I have a fun song and video to share with you today*!

*Video does not constitute an actual endorsement for any products it may seem to be actually endorsing. JoeZone and its affiliates are in no way responsible for any dissatisfaction, bad tastes in mouths, vomiting, regrets, wasting of a few dollars or more, or yuckiness of any sort that are in any way connected to you seeing the preceding video and finding yourself unable to control the urge to go out and purchase the coffee advertised in the video.

Quick stats for ya

I'll leave it to Kathryn to give you the exciting updates on our near-finished marathon bathroom remodel.

I, on the other hand, will provide you with some exceptionally illuminating statistics:

17 - the number of months we've been in our work-in-progress house.
17 - the number of months it's taken me to figure out that caulking is my absolute least favorite thing ever when it comes to working on a house.
17 - the number of times last night, while caulking, that I considered packing our bags and moving us to a state park or Alaska or something so we could just live in a tent.
17 - the number of minutes it took me to scrub and scrape the dried caulk off my fingers after getting less than half the remaining caulking done in the bathroom.

Last, but not least:
17 - seventeen more than the number of people who are likely to want to return to my blog anytime soon after reading this post.

Hospitals and horse races

Nearly a week ago today, I almost lost my Dad. He frantically woke my mother up just after midnight Monday morning, barely able to breathe, much less get out the words for Mom to take him to the hospital.

6 days later, he's still in ICU, but has finally recovered to the point that they no longer keep him sedated (he threw a couple of nurses out the window for all the poking and prodding, I think), and they're steadily weaning him off the ventilator, which he was totally dependent on for breathing just days ago.

Our God is powerful and loving, and he has heard our cries.

Dad has self-published a couple of books now, and is working on a third. His published stuff has been about spirituality, and the third book he's working on is about the glory of God. He's been approaching the book from the perspective that he has a lot to learn before he feels like he can complete it and do it justice.

On a related note, one that my Dad will undoubtedly be thrilled that I've shared, I may have seen Dad truly weep for the first time in my life (and consequently the second, third, and so on). Some people would have probably kept better track of such a thing - all I can say is I don't remember any particularly weepy emotional outbursts (or even out-trickles) from my Dad. He said this, just after Kathryn and I (and baby) walked into the hospital ICU room Friday, and just before the waterworks began, "You are a beautiful sight. I forgot you were coming. You three are a beautiful sight." As you might suspect, Kathryn was also crying within seconds. While I only got misty, don't worry about me - if you're around me enough, you'll know that I cry fairly often during worship and Toy Story movies. I think, in addition to the humbling circumstances of being in the hospital (and ICU on top of that), the overwhelming display of love of so many family and friends really touched him. (We really packed out that room and the waiting room all week.) Dad, I think you've learned something about the glory of God. I think we all have.

We've also enjoyed some of your unfiltered, slightly drug-induced moments. I'll leave you all for now with something my Dad doesn't remember saying to my Aunt Lorna (his sister).

"I'm challenging you to a horse race. You and me. I bet you five dollars I can win."

We love you Dad. We trust the Lord for your recovery and restoration. And we all look forward to seeing you on that horse.