Will, August 2013

I've been busy on the blog this month... But, I always have more! In keeping with the other months, here's more of what Will's August looked like:

Just hanging out in a box

 

 

Visit to Springfield to see Gma and Gpa Hardison

 

An unusually cool morning in August

 

Hey, at least I got dinner made

 

August was the month of baby-proofing

Both grandpas celebrated birthdays this month

 

Play time with friends

 

So Dad's neighbors had us all over for dinner.
I was in charge of the cake (for dad's birthday).
 This is what it looked like.

 

Ahh! Stop growing so fast!

 

Spaghetti. Yep.

 

 

 

Franklin Street. Find Will and Ryan.

Franklin Street again. Nothing like having daddy throw me around.

Doing it his way

 

My baby

  

 

The love of a grand

Or in this case a Grand and a Great-Grand. Grandpa Steve and Great Grandma Evey came for a visit this past week. Besides the wonderful meals and conversation they treated us to, we all had front-row seats to the highly energetic, highly acclaimed Will show. I thought only a mother could sit happily for hours just watching her kid play. But I wasn't thinking of the greats and grands in Will's life, who do stuff like this:

and this:

and this:

 

 

Will sure loves Grandpa Steve and GG Evey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so do we!

 





Thank you, Steve and Grams, for a wonderful visit. You came to us, but you always make it feel as if we are the guests of honor. Steve, thank you for aptly labeling Will's screams and squeals as enthusiasm. He gets that enthusiasm from you. Thank you for being our biggest fans, for encouraging us the way you do, and for loving life the way we all should. And Grams, thank you for displaying the fruits of the Spirit in all things. By God's grace, we intend to pass along to Will your faith, generosity, thoughtfulness, gentleness, and kindness. Great and grand -- that you are!
We love you both!

Grace personified

Friends are the grace of God in our lives. And how abundant His grace has been towards us! I could write a post a day about the wonderful people the Lord has brought into our lives, and I wouldn't be done a year from now.
This is Will and his "Mimi" Diane:

My family has been friends with the Youmans since I was in the single digits, when they lived down the street from us on Heartley Drive. Over the years, unique circumstances have forged an inseparable, irreplaceable bond between us.
Dave and Diane's daughter Dana and I were dear friends. We rode bikes, played with her Barbie playhouse, and raced each other to see who could eat a bowl of Rice Krispies the fastest. In His mysterious, sovereign plan, the Lord took Dana home when she was just ten years old.

Me and Dana, Halloween night

On one of our many bike rides one day not long before the Lord took her home, Dana was talking about a young boy we knew who had recently died in a car accident. "I'd hate to die young," she said, "because my parents would be so sad." It was as if the Lord had gently put death on Dana's young mind, and she responded selflessly to the thought. Little did I know that just a few years after that afternoon bike ride, I'd be babysitting for the little sisters Dana would never meet. And then 15 years after that, Dana's sisters would be babysitting for Will.
Neither did we know that just five years after that afternoon bike ride, Diane would begin caring for my mom, in the unique, special way only Diane could, after mom got the brain tumor diagnosis. Diane's friendship and care for mom were steady and constant over mom's 16-year battle. I am aware that at one point, mom asked Diane to look out for me if anything ever happened to her. What a lofty request. And one that Diane graciously took to heart.
She was with my bridesmaids and me when I got married, she threw me an awesome baby shower like only Diane could, she and Devyn kept Will several times during mom's bedside vigil, she brought me a printed copy of mom's testimony the morning mom passed, and now that the dust has settled, she still comes and keeps Will once a week so I can have some free time. (And really, that's only a small sampling of the things she has done for me!) She is Will's surrogate Grandma, "Mimi."
It goes without saying that things don't always turn out the way we expect. But this is what I take to the bank: The sovereign Lord who is in charge of those circumstances works all things out for my good. The Youmans are that "good" in my life.

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Keeping it real

From the day I found out I was pregnant, Ryan has said he doesn't want to raise a first born. He was a first born. From him came all the hand-me-downs to brothers 1 and 2. All of his occasions were a big deal. Everything was new, and he was first, and nothing was old hat. Instead of growing up to think he's somebody, Ryan wants our first born to have a second-born experience. I told him it was impossible. (Yes, I decorated a nursery for Will, and yes, I will go all out for his first birthday.)
However, we have improvised on a few things in regard to Will, so I'm writing this post for Ryan. Do these things count?

Will's baby gate:

(Because containing him shouldn't cost us holes in the wall.)

The "curtains" in his bedroom:

(Because the blinds should be enough.)


His "personalized" bottles:

(Because we haven't invested in those cute rubber band labels that everyone has. But I want.)


Our drawer locks:

(Because the real locks require holes in the wood, too.)


His toys:

(Okay, he has other, better toys that we've borrowed from Graham. But these are his choice.)


His clothes:

(Because hand-me-downs from dear friends are perfect.)

And since we're on the subject, I've put him directly in the cart at Wal-Mart from day 1. (I must be honest and admit to taking a wipe to it before putting him in.) His lunch menu at home has been the same since the day he started eating lunch: turkey and cheese. That is all. His changing pad hasn't had a cover on it since the first time he stained it and made me wash it. (What is the point of a changing pad cover?) And yesterday I let him crawl in the dirt and put bark in his mouth.

So, how am I doing at this raising-our-first-born-like-a-second-born thing? (Before you answer that, Can I buy some of those rubber band labels for his birthday?)

The best worst advice

If I thought sporting a baby bump was my ticket to free advice in public, I might as well be wearing a sign around my neck now that my adorable baby bump sits in a stroller smiling and cooing at those same all-knowing strangers. Baby on the inside or out, I have come to realize that nine times out of ten, the advice is almost always the same: Enjoy it. It goes by so fast.
Really, the Enjoy It cliché is harmless. It's even good advice. So why does it bother me so much?
I remember the first three colicky months of Will's life. I actually look back on the day we left the hospital and feel sorry for myself, completely ignorant of the road ahead. That the hospital's photographer couldn't get a tearless snap of Will should have clued me in, but no, this already-sleep-deprived mama headed home with the excitement--and naivety--common to her first-time-mom condition. I didn't sleep a wink that first night for watching that baby swing by our bed, checking whether his chest was still rising and falling and anticipating his next cry for what only I could give. My store of adrenaline surprisingly kept me going like that for the first two weeks. Ryan and I would take turns bouncing and walking and shh-ing and singing to our screaming bundle of joy. One night it went on for six hours straight. No amount of standing in a dark, quiet closet did anything to dull our boy's senses or usher in sleep. Guilt was born in my heart that night and set up shop among its already residing friends sleepy, uncertainty, and fear. All around me people were telling me to "Enjoy it because it goes by so fast." The only part of that phrase that offered me any hope at the time was the second half: It goes by so fast. Oh please let that be true! 
Besides the guilt it engendered for me, advocates of the Enjoy It advice always seems to deliver it with the same sad, guilty, regretful sentiment in their expression. It's as if every person who gives that advice has grown children who live out of the country and never call home. I admit, fear of sharing their sentiment later has driven me to really think about their advice in the first place. How can I make sure I enjoy these years so I don't have regrets later?
What's funny about this question is that I used to ask it a lot when mom was still here. I knew she wouldn't be around forever. In fact, towards the end, I wondered if each time I left her house might be the last time I saw her. Knowing my time was short drove me to wring every last drop of enjoyment I could out of every moment we shared together. Sure, a lot of what we did together was truly enjoyable, like lying on the couch, watching t.v., and eating cookies, or going to Wal-Mart to look at bandanas. But a fair amount of our time together wasn't that fun, like taking her to the bathroom and praying the whole time that she wouldn't fall because I wasn't strong enough to get her back up, or spoon feeding her cereal while half the contents of each spoonful landed in her lap instead of in her mouth. With its mix of good and bad moments, when I look back on the time I had with mom, I can honestly say I have no regrets. Our time together was so sweet.
If I can be so bold as to offer advice in a blog post about annoying advice, I'd sum it up in two words. And it's not Enjoy It. It's: Be Present. At least once in my day, I should be conscious of my state in life: I went through childbirth, my biggest fear, and now I'm mom to an adorable 11 month old who needs me to carry him everywhere and who squeals and laughs unprompted just because life is good. Thinking now about not having regrets later keeps me from having regrets later. Could it really be as simple as just being conscious on a daily basis?
I wish I had employed this philosophy during childbirth. I can say I was not mentally present for that. And I don't mean I was too drugged up on pain medicine to know what was going on. From the moment the first contraction started, my mind was a running stream of consciousness of things we'd talked about in our nine-week Preparing for Childbirth class: How far apart are the contractions? When do I go to the hospital? When can I get the epidural? Will I need a C-section? Not once did I stop and think: My first-born son is about to have a birthday.
And I haven't yet mentioned the other problem with Enjoy It: Those people for whom that advice just isn't appropriate (but of course the perfect strangers giving it don't know that): The first-time mom and friend of mine who sings hymns to her baby boy in his hospital room while he's strapped to a bed, and busy, beeping machines keep his heart beating after major heart surgery. The other first-time-mom-friend-of-mine who wonders if today will be the day when her son chokes again on breastmilk and needs yet another corrective procedure performed on his esophagus. Or the naïve first-time-mom who who tried desperately to console her screaming little boy in a small dark closet at her parents' house, while in the next room the Hospice nurse checked her mother's vitals and said it wouldn't be long. Sometimes, Enjoy It truly is too cliché.
But what does Jesus say about all of this? Because that's all that really matters. In Ecclesiastes He tells us there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity, and He says He makes everything beautiful in its time. He says when times are good, we should be happy, and when times are bad, we should consider that God has made the one as well as the other. In James He says to consider it pure joy when we face varied trials, and in Philippians He tells us to rejoice always. His perspective is eternal, and therefore His commandments are not insensitive, but absolutely right, loving, and true.
Now that my son is almost one year old and my mama has had her angel wings for almost eight months, I'm thinking about the advice I'd give a newer mom than me. This is going to sound crazy, but you know what I would say? I'd join the chorus of everyone else and tell her to Enjoy It. Stop every day to think. Rejoice always. Consider God. Realize life is fleeting. Be present, thankful, yes, even joyful, in the good and the bad of your privileged mom position.

Who wouldn't enjoy that face?

To the GGs!

This past weekend we went to visit Grandma and Grandpa Hardison in Virginia. (See Monday's post From generation to generation.)

 

From generation to generation

Although I don't fully understand it all, I've always loved the language in the Bible about generations, children, children's children, heritage, and so on. When I was pregnant with Will, I clung to promises like Luke 1:50: "His mercy extends to those who fear Him, from generation to generation." And Psalm 112:1&2: "Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who finds great delight in His commands. His children will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed." And I put Psalm 102:2 in the banner of this blog: "The Lord's renown endures through all generations." Even in the New Testament, in response to the jailer's question about what he must do to be saved, Paul and Silas said: "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved -- you and your household" (Acts 16:31).

I think all of this is on my mind this morning for a couple of reasons: In Daily Light today, the Lord led me to a passage in Isaiah that I have clung to in the past: "O afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted, I will build you with stones of turquoise, your foundations with sapphires" (54:11). I remember clinging to this verse during singlehood, and then in the midst of mom's struggles, and then again in the midst of infertility. I know this verse is speaking about Heaven, and I truly can't describe the awe I feel now that one of my most cherished loved ones is there. The Lord has also used this verse to encourage me in the present, kind of in the same way He has used 1 Peter 5:6: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time." In my recent past, the Holy Spirit has used these verses to confirm to me that although I was struggling at the time, beauty was coming. This morning, I noticed verse 12 in Isaiah 54, immediately following the sapphires verse: "All your sons will be taught by the Lord, and great will be your children's peace."

I don't want to promote in my own mind an unstudied theology when it comes to these verses. Scripture substantiates again and again that salvation is personal, individual, and a matter of the heart. When I cling to these verses, I am believing that the Lord still works in families and that my faith, personal as it is, matters mysteriously not just for me, but for Will, too. I am stepping out in faith to trust Him with my child's salvation, and I hope that if He has spread His wings over me, He will mercifully do the same for my children. If somehow my clinging in faith and prayer to these verses impacts Will's knowledge of the Lord one day, then cling away I will.

The second reason all of this is on my mind is because we went to visit my grandparents this weekend. My grandfather has been weaving a legacy of faithfulness and service to the Lord and others for 97 years. My grandmother has done the same for 96. I am awed by the obvious reciprocity of faithfulness between them and the Lord for literally almost 100 years.

I guess it's this fascination with and faith in heritage and ancestry that motivated Ryan and me to name Will after our grandfathers. We don't believe in reinventing the wheel. What the Lord revealed to our forefathers, they passed down to us and so it has gone since, right down to our generation and now to Will's. Thankfully, our grandfathers passed down a heritage of faith in Christ. We honor them for that, and we hope and pray, with affirming Scriptures in our hearts, that Will doesn't just carry on their names, but their faith as well.  

August 11, 2013

Who knew? (on the loo)

Thank you, child, I did not even know that existed.

Occupation: Mom

I've officially been a stay-at-home mom now for four weeks. I have to remind myself of the burden I don't have of my IBM job. Isn't that the way life is? Although it's hard to grasp the full sweetness of my new position, it has most definitely still been sweet.
The first couple of weeks were a transition. I was physically exhausted at the end of the day, but mentally ready to run a marathon. As time goes on, I am adjusting and adapting, and now both my body and mind are ready for rest when night falls. I think the adjusting--changing is the better word--is the one thing that has impacted--haunted is the better word--me the most this year. Starting with mom's passing and then losing my job and now the joy of becoming a full-time, stay-at-home mom, I feel like I am watching my life happen before my eyes. The events of this past year are among the handful of defining moments in life. Like it or not, they've happened. Those mile markers have been nailed in the ground.
At our farewell get-together for work, a coworker told me that she had learned from experience that our capacity shrinks or expands to match the responsibilities we have on our plate. I've been thinking about that, and I must admit I've been thinking I'm shrinking. I mentioned above that my mind is now tired at the end of the day, even though I've hardly exerted it much. Nobody wants to feel like she's shrinking, so there's got to be another way of looking at it.
When I found out I was pregnant, a different coworker told me about the challenges she faced as a working mom: She never felt like she could do either job as well as each deserved. She could devote half of her time to IBM and the other half of her time to her kids. Her full-time colleagues were always accomplishing more than she was, while her full-time mommy friends were excelling in motherhood more than she was. She was used to excelling in whatever she did, and now she had to be okay with just being okay.
If both coworkers are right (and I think they are), then I think this must be the healthy way of looking at the recent change in my life: I am not shrinking. I am expanding to really excel at the one job that matters most: Raising another worshipper of Christ.
Whatever I have on my plate, Lord, let me do it well.
Occupation: Mom.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord.

Two bedheads going out for a run