The next time we see the sun . . .
. . . it will be 2013.
I'd say spending an evening at the beach watching the sun set is a nice way to say bon voyage to 2012 and welcome to 2013.
And the boys thought so, too.
Happy New Year!
December 31, 2012
Happy New Year!
. . . it will be 2013.
I'd say spending an evening at the beach watching the sun set is a nice way to say bon voyage to 2012 and welcome to 2013.
And the boys thought so, too.
Happy New Year!
December 24, 2012
December 21, 2012
19 months
Comparing these photos of Cael to the ones from this time last year, I'm happy to say that he's grown into his head a bit more.
Still doing that thing with his toes, though.
And just as happy to pose for a picture.
And just as silly as ever. Love our little Caely.
J/K
I haven't been good at posting the photos of Kieran's weekly show-and-tell items lately. So, here's to catching up.
H was the harmonica, since he was supposed to take something that made him happy. And I was also the harmonica, since it's an instrument (apparently, a repeat from a last year).
Since I couldn't think of a way to use the harmonica again with J week, he went with a jeep. (Here's last year's J.)
And for K week, he took a kazoo (similar to but not the same as a harmonica). (Last year's K.)
And Cael decided he needed to be in the picture, too.
December 16, 2012
Remembering Eve
Perhaps it's understandable that her first-born son turned out the way he did-- she was a mother on her own. She had no access to parenting books, no ability to attend seminars on parenting given by those who had gone before. No mommy blogs to devour, no social media sites to use to network with other "in the trenches" mommies. She had no girlfriends to discuss child-rearing troubles with and no mother who patterned the right way to raise offspring. She and her husband were on their own as they raised their children. She probably made lots of mistakes as her progeny grew up.
On the other hand, there were lots of things she did well. She taught her children in the shelter of her own home. She and her family had no access to violent video games, no gratuitous-violence-filled movies to watch. They didn't even have a TV. Or a laptop on which her kids could secretly watch forbidden videos. The father wasn't a gun owner, nor was he a collector of knives (they were only just beginning to learn how to work in the metalurgic arts). She didn't have any books for her children in her home that taught them a false worldview.
Her family worked in the fields, growing organic produce and raising grass-fed cattle and sheep. Her house was free from artifical dyes and any type of processed food. Although they worked hard in those field and pastures, they weren't poor. In fact, they were the richest family around. Because they were the only family around.
She loved her husband, the father of her children. They had a stable marriage. He was the only man in her life, the only man she'd ever known, in fact. No baggage to carry over from previous relationships. There was no history of mental illness running in their family.
There were no neighbors with horrid children to keep her own kids sheltered from, no unknown bullies down the block who picked on her children, damaging their self-esteem. No outside teachers forcing false knowledge about who they were and where they came from into the minds of her children. Just her, her husband, and their ever-growing family.
In fact, you could say they lived in paradise. Or as close to paradise as anyone has ever gotten.
And yet . . . her first-born son murdered his own brother in cold blood. The world's first murder.
Cain didn't use a gun, or a knife. Maybe he used a large stick. Or perhaps some type of farm implement he'd made to work in his fields. But it's even more likely that he used his bare hands to take the life from his younger brother, Able, in a fit of rage.
How do you think Eve reacted when she heard the news that her oldest son had killed another son? Did she talk to Adam about establishing a "no sticks" policy? Did she go on an anti-farm-implement crusade? Did she threaten to keep the rest of her children home from the fields? Did she shake her fist at her Creator, crying out Why, God, why?
Although I wasn't there at the time and Adam's record of the events doesn't include her reactions to the news, I suspect that she did none of these things. Because she knew why.
She knew that she was once again being confronted with the horrific consequeces of her (and her husband's) own rebellion against the loving Creator who had made them and freely given them all things in His creation, except that tree. That tree that the all-good Creator had told them not to eat from. That one tree.
Her disobedience--her sin--was continually before her. She no longer lived in that beautiful garden. The sweat and blisters and sore muscles Adam and her children brought home every day from their work in the fields reminded her of the curse the Creator God of the universe had pronounced after she and Adam had eaten from that tree.
The very clothing she put on each morning brought to mind those dead animals that had been killed to provide a covering for her shame. Those animals that needed to be continually offered as a sacrifice to atone for their sin. Those animals that Abel had been offering to God before he was killed.
The pain she experienced each time she gave birth reminded her of the Curse she was under. The pain she experienced as she watched her children, who had inherited their parents' now-sinful-natures, choose to disobey the commands of their Creator, just as she had done. The overwhelming, excrutiating pain she experienced when her oldest son killed his brother, taking a life that was not his to take, defacing the image of God reflected in His people.
And she was faced with the ultimate and final consequence of their sin: the death that God warned them about when He uttered His "do not eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" command.
I imagine that Eve did none of the things we find ourselves doing today when we're confronted with heart-wrenching tragedy. Because she knew that the external excuses, although important, weren't the real reason behind the atrocity. She knew that it was something inherent in her son. I imagine that she threw herself down on the ground before her Creator, weeping at the loss of her son at the hand of her first-born, and repenting at what her sin had brought about. What Adam's sin had done. . . . What Cain's sin had done . . . What my sin has done.
Eve knew that her own son was full of sin. Adam records these words:
Eve wasn't left without hope. She clung to the promise God had given her to provide a way to be saved from the final consequence of their sin--death and eternal separation from the God who had so intricately and intimately formed them with His own hands. Perhaps she even thought the baby she bore after Abel's death was the fulfillment of that promise.
We know now that the true fulfillment came 4,000 years later, when God sent His only Son to earth as a baby. Jesus, that One promised from the beginning and continually promised through the thousands of years that followed, came to earth, lived a life without sin, died in place of those who deserve to be punished for their sin, and then rose from the dead, showing that God had accepted the sacrifice of His Son on the cross. When we repent of our sin and believe that Jesus is the only Savior of the world, we can rejoice in knowing that our sins have been forgiven and we will spend eternity with our Creator after we die.
When tragedy comes my way, my heart aches for the families involved. I continually pray that the God of all comfort would pour out His grace and mercy on them and bring glory to Himself through this. But even more, these tragedies are a stark reminder of my participation in commiting high treason against the Ruler of the Universe and a call to repent of my sin and a reminder for me to share the hope of eternal life through Jesus Christ with those around me.
What if, instead of focusing exclusively on what "our nation" needs to do to stop such horrors from happening again, we each, as individuals, repented? What if we heeded Jesus's words when He was talking about those killed after the tower of Siloam fell on them: "I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish"? And then what if we shared the life-altering good news of salvation from sin through repentance and faith in Jesus with our friends and neighbors? What if . . . .?
On the other hand, there were lots of things she did well. She taught her children in the shelter of her own home. She and her family had no access to violent video games, no gratuitous-violence-filled movies to watch. They didn't even have a TV. Or a laptop on which her kids could secretly watch forbidden videos. The father wasn't a gun owner, nor was he a collector of knives (they were only just beginning to learn how to work in the metalurgic arts). She didn't have any books for her children in her home that taught them a false worldview.
Her family worked in the fields, growing organic produce and raising grass-fed cattle and sheep. Her house was free from artifical dyes and any type of processed food. Although they worked hard in those field and pastures, they weren't poor. In fact, they were the richest family around. Because they were the only family around.
She loved her husband, the father of her children. They had a stable marriage. He was the only man in her life, the only man she'd ever known, in fact. No baggage to carry over from previous relationships. There was no history of mental illness running in their family.
There were no neighbors with horrid children to keep her own kids sheltered from, no unknown bullies down the block who picked on her children, damaging their self-esteem. No outside teachers forcing false knowledge about who they were and where they came from into the minds of her children. Just her, her husband, and their ever-growing family.
In fact, you could say they lived in paradise. Or as close to paradise as anyone has ever gotten.
And yet . . . her first-born son murdered his own brother in cold blood. The world's first murder.
Cain didn't use a gun, or a knife. Maybe he used a large stick. Or perhaps some type of farm implement he'd made to work in his fields. But it's even more likely that he used his bare hands to take the life from his younger brother, Able, in a fit of rage.
How do you think Eve reacted when she heard the news that her oldest son had killed another son? Did she talk to Adam about establishing a "no sticks" policy? Did she go on an anti-farm-implement crusade? Did she threaten to keep the rest of her children home from the fields? Did she shake her fist at her Creator, crying out Why, God, why?
Although I wasn't there at the time and Adam's record of the events doesn't include her reactions to the news, I suspect that she did none of these things. Because she knew why.
She knew that she was once again being confronted with the horrific consequeces of her (and her husband's) own rebellion against the loving Creator who had made them and freely given them all things in His creation, except that tree. That tree that the all-good Creator had told them not to eat from. That one tree.
Her disobedience--her sin--was continually before her. She no longer lived in that beautiful garden. The sweat and blisters and sore muscles Adam and her children brought home every day from their work in the fields reminded her of the curse the Creator God of the universe had pronounced after she and Adam had eaten from that tree.
The very clothing she put on each morning brought to mind those dead animals that had been killed to provide a covering for her shame. Those animals that needed to be continually offered as a sacrifice to atone for their sin. Those animals that Abel had been offering to God before he was killed.
The pain she experienced each time she gave birth reminded her of the Curse she was under. The pain she experienced as she watched her children, who had inherited their parents' now-sinful-natures, choose to disobey the commands of their Creator, just as she had done. The overwhelming, excrutiating pain she experienced when her oldest son killed his brother, taking a life that was not his to take, defacing the image of God reflected in His people.
And she was faced with the ultimate and final consequence of their sin: the death that God warned them about when He uttered His "do not eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" command.
I imagine that Eve did none of the things we find ourselves doing today when we're confronted with heart-wrenching tragedy. Because she knew that the external excuses, although important, weren't the real reason behind the atrocity. She knew that it was something inherent in her son. I imagine that she threw herself down on the ground before her Creator, weeping at the loss of her son at the hand of her first-born, and repenting at what her sin had brought about. What Adam's sin had done. . . . What Cain's sin had done . . . What my sin has done.
Eve knew that her own son was full of sin. Adam records these words:
Then the Lord said to Cain, “Why are you angry? And why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it.”Sin--the rejection of the commands of God -- is crouching at the door of each of our hearts. We may see the effects of giving in to sin to a fuller measure in a mass murderer, but none of us are any better that he is. When we hate, we commit murder in our hearts. When we are unkind, tell a lie, covet another's possession, talk maliciously about a fellow image-bearer, we sin. We transgress God's law. And we need to repent of our rebellion against Him for we are all under the penalty of death.
Eve wasn't left without hope. She clung to the promise God had given her to provide a way to be saved from the final consequence of their sin--death and eternal separation from the God who had so intricately and intimately formed them with His own hands. Perhaps she even thought the baby she bore after Abel's death was the fulfillment of that promise.
We know now that the true fulfillment came 4,000 years later, when God sent His only Son to earth as a baby. Jesus, that One promised from the beginning and continually promised through the thousands of years that followed, came to earth, lived a life without sin, died in place of those who deserve to be punished for their sin, and then rose from the dead, showing that God had accepted the sacrifice of His Son on the cross. When we repent of our sin and believe that Jesus is the only Savior of the world, we can rejoice in knowing that our sins have been forgiven and we will spend eternity with our Creator after we die.
When tragedy comes my way, my heart aches for the families involved. I continually pray that the God of all comfort would pour out His grace and mercy on them and bring glory to Himself through this. But even more, these tragedies are a stark reminder of my participation in commiting high treason against the Ruler of the Universe and a call to repent of my sin and a reminder for me to share the hope of eternal life through Jesus Christ with those around me.
What if, instead of focusing exclusively on what "our nation" needs to do to stop such horrors from happening again, we each, as individuals, repented? What if we heeded Jesus's words when He was talking about those killed after the tower of Siloam fell on them: "I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish"? And then what if we shared the life-altering good news of salvation from sin through repentance and faith in Jesus with our friends and neighbors? What if . . . .?
December 3, 2012
On being "different"
Mike was a guy in the singles class I attended at a church many years ago before Seth entered the picture. He was the unofficial class greeter -- the first to shake your hand when you came in and the first to remember the name of anyone new. He worked at a greeter at a local Walmart. I was kind to Mike, but I found it difficult to really relate to him beyond the compulsory, "Hey, Mike." I expected Mike to be more like me, but since he wasn't, since he was different, I didn't know how to get to know him better.
When I first began working for one of my previous bosses, I found it difficult to relate to him. He was different from me and it felt like we were continually butting heads, for some unknown reason. And then one day, for a reason I can't remember, we sat down together and he told me his life story--about his past, where he'd come from, what his life had been like. And after that, after getting to know him, we clicked and I enjoyed working for him and with him from that time on.
I was reminded about Mike and my previous boss a few weeks ago. We took Kieran for his yearly visit to the Williams syndrome specialist last week, and I was filling out all the evaluation forms they sent before we went. Several of the questions were about his interactions with peers, so I asked his preschool teacher to share her insight. One of those questions was, "Do his peers ever think his behavior is odd or weird?" She (kindly, truthfully, and without malice) answered with the "Sometimes this is true" box.
That stung a bit.
Sure, I can look around and see that Kieran is different from other children. Most kids his age don't keep their hands over their ears because the noise level in everyday situations is too intense for them (a condition called hyperacusis). Most four-year-olds don't burst into tears at the sight of something that makes a noise they don't like (the blender, the vacuum cleaner). Most kids don't have difficulty sitting still for short periods of time or paying attention to the task at hand. Most of his peers don't have trouble tracing a line, drawing a circle, cutting along a straight line, coloring a picture, or building something out of blocks. Most kids don't have difficulty initiating and sustaining a conversation or playing games with other children. Most children don't go around giving hugs to everyone they see.
But he is Kieran. And he is different.
And here's the thing about being different: It's okay.
It's okay because God, Kieran's Creator and the Creator of each one of us, likes variety. And He fearfully and wonderfully created Kieran in His image just the way He wanted him to be.
I don't find Kieran odd or weird. I enjoy being with him, talking with him, and playing with him . . . on his terms (which often include weedwackers). I know him well (I should since I'm his mother, right?), and I know what he's like as an individual, not measured against everyone else.
I know that he's funny, likes reading books, enjoys being around people, and loves playing his harmonica. And while we're working with him to minimize some of the "differences" in areas such as conversation and fine motor skills, we also love him just the way he is.
Whether we know it or not, we expect people to be like we are, and when we find out they're not, we may label them as different, or weird, or odd. I'm fairly sure, looking back now, that Mike had Williams syndrome. His overfriendliness, good memory of faces and names, distinctive facial features, and slow shuffling walk fit the profile of a syndrome that has become part of our lives. But does it matter whether someone has a "diagnosis" or a storied past that helps explain current behavior? It shouldn't--we should be kind to everyone, receiving each as an individual created in God's image for His glory. But sometimes understanding what makes a person different from me can help me embrace those differences a bit more easily.
If you expect Kieran to act like other typically developing four-year-olds, you may find his behavior odd or different. But if you expect him to act like Kieran and take the time to get to know him as Kieran and allow him to be Kieran, I suspect you'll find that he'll bring you a great amount of joy, as he does to us.
(I feel the need to add this disclaimer, which seems silly because this blog is just for friends and family, but I do want to be clear that I'm not talking about tolerating moral differences or tossing aside the clearly delineated moral commands given in the absolute standard of God's Word in favor of accepting any type of behavior. We are teaching Kieran to be kind, to share his toys, to obey those in authority, and to follow God's Word. Nor am I advocating accepting the "all roads lead to heaven" approach (Jesus clearly said that He is the only way to heaven). So, there. Disclaimer ended.)
When I first began working for one of my previous bosses, I found it difficult to relate to him. He was different from me and it felt like we were continually butting heads, for some unknown reason. And then one day, for a reason I can't remember, we sat down together and he told me his life story--about his past, where he'd come from, what his life had been like. And after that, after getting to know him, we clicked and I enjoyed working for him and with him from that time on.
I was reminded about Mike and my previous boss a few weeks ago. We took Kieran for his yearly visit to the Williams syndrome specialist last week, and I was filling out all the evaluation forms they sent before we went. Several of the questions were about his interactions with peers, so I asked his preschool teacher to share her insight. One of those questions was, "Do his peers ever think his behavior is odd or weird?" She (kindly, truthfully, and without malice) answered with the "Sometimes this is true" box.
That stung a bit.
Sure, I can look around and see that Kieran is different from other children. Most kids his age don't keep their hands over their ears because the noise level in everyday situations is too intense for them (a condition called hyperacusis). Most four-year-olds don't burst into tears at the sight of something that makes a noise they don't like (the blender, the vacuum cleaner). Most kids don't have difficulty sitting still for short periods of time or paying attention to the task at hand. Most of his peers don't have trouble tracing a line, drawing a circle, cutting along a straight line, coloring a picture, or building something out of blocks. Most kids don't have difficulty initiating and sustaining a conversation or playing games with other children. Most children don't go around giving hugs to everyone they see.
But he is Kieran. And he is different.
And here's the thing about being different: It's okay.
It's okay because God, Kieran's Creator and the Creator of each one of us, likes variety. And He fearfully and wonderfully created Kieran in His image just the way He wanted him to be.
I don't find Kieran odd or weird. I enjoy being with him, talking with him, and playing with him . . . on his terms (which often include weedwackers). I know him well (I should since I'm his mother, right?), and I know what he's like as an individual, not measured against everyone else.
I know that he's funny, likes reading books, enjoys being around people, and loves playing his harmonica. And while we're working with him to minimize some of the "differences" in areas such as conversation and fine motor skills, we also love him just the way he is.
Whether we know it or not, we expect people to be like we are, and when we find out they're not, we may label them as different, or weird, or odd. I'm fairly sure, looking back now, that Mike had Williams syndrome. His overfriendliness, good memory of faces and names, distinctive facial features, and slow shuffling walk fit the profile of a syndrome that has become part of our lives. But does it matter whether someone has a "diagnosis" or a storied past that helps explain current behavior? It shouldn't--we should be kind to everyone, receiving each as an individual created in God's image for His glory. But sometimes understanding what makes a person different from me can help me embrace those differences a bit more easily.
If you expect Kieran to act like other typically developing four-year-olds, you may find his behavior odd or different. But if you expect him to act like Kieran and take the time to get to know him as Kieran and allow him to be Kieran, I suspect you'll find that he'll bring you a great amount of joy, as he does to us.
(I feel the need to add this disclaimer, which seems silly because this blog is just for friends and family, but I do want to be clear that I'm not talking about tolerating moral differences or tossing aside the clearly delineated moral commands given in the absolute standard of God's Word in favor of accepting any type of behavior. We are teaching Kieran to be kind, to share his toys, to obey those in authority, and to follow God's Word. Nor am I advocating accepting the "all roads lead to heaven" approach (Jesus clearly said that He is the only way to heaven). So, there. Disclaimer ended.)
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