Stories of Grace

Christmas Card time

storiesofgrace — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 03:01:24 +0000

Christmas means it’s Christmas card time, AKA time to show off our daughter’s cuteness once again. That’s one of the great things about parenthood — there’s nothing wrong with being proud of your child.

Last year and this year we’ve gone with the take a photo and put it into a template Christmas card. We played with several ideas this year, but in the end we gave people what they really want to see — my daughter and my daughter alone. Fortunately, she loves when we take photos of her, especially when we bring out the black sheets to create a pseudo-studio. She knows it’s showtime then. In less than 30 minutes of pure, unadulterated cuteness, we had our Christmas card photo. There was plenty of wonderfulness left over.

Hopefully her smile brings a little Christmas cheer to those who see it this winter. I know it always adds some cheer to my day.

Christmas Grace

storiesofgrace — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 20:22:51 +0000

The other day we put up our Christmas tree. It’s the first tree that my daughter’s been old enough to actually realize its there. She played with all the boxes, the lights and especially the ornaments. She likes the red shiny ball ornaments best. She grabbed each of them and watched her mother put them on the tree.

At the end of decorating the tree, her mom gave her a small ball ornament and watched as my daughter walked over to the tree and nestled the ball in the ribbon. When it was firmly in place, she sat back, admired her work and clapped in celebration. Her mom and I clapped along with her.

This is such a neat age. She’s putting things together so quickly. Like a giant puzzle that’s coming toghether piece by piece. Later that night, my wife and I watched The Family Man, which we love. Toward the end Nicolas Cage utter’s this line. I couldn’t be think of my daughter when I heard it.

And Josh, he has your eyes. He doesn’t say much, but we know he’s smart. He’s always got his eyes open, he’s always watching us. Sometimes you can look at him and you just know he’s learning something new. It’s like witnessing a miracle.

Silent Night

storiesofgrace — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 03:46:39 +0000

This evening I pulled the Christmas decorations down from the attic and got them ready to put up Friday. To do so, I pulled the cars mostly out of the garage, but left one of the car radios playing Christmas music. After I put all the stuff in the house, I went back to the garage where a version of Silent Night was playing.

The strength of the song was amazing. Fittingly, it was a silent night in my neighborhood and the message of the song slashed through the night. The message of Christ’s birth pierced the darkness in a fitting way.

It was wonderful. I love Christmas. Is it too early to already be writing Christmas posts?

My daughter the volcano

storiesofgrace — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 03:38:00 +0000

My daughter’s been fighting what her doctor calls a stomach virus for about 5-6 days. It’s turned my sweet one-year old into an ominous volcano. The child that’s normally sweet baby talks has been transformed into a constant reminder of impending doom.

Her stomach gurgles. Next it rumbles. Then it tumbles. Sometimes she burps. Each of these incidents by themselves would be innocent enough. Together, they’re a sign the volcano could blow any moment, spewing vile material all over those standing in the vicinity. She is something to be feared.

It made for an interesting Thanksgiving. There were no eruptions today. We can only hope that the same can be said after tomorrow.

Do we have to change churches because of this?

storiesofgrace — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 15:03:34 +0000

It started out like another Sunday School gathering. Our class got together at a friend’s house to celebrate Thanksgiving. All the usual fair was there — turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, etc. We’re were laughing with friends and my daughter was being as cute as can be. She even ate a little dressing.

And that’s when the night took a wrong turn.

The dressing decided to make another appearance, as did all the milk that my daughter drank in the four hours before the party. All I could do was try to catch the vomit before it hit our friend’s beautiful table and rug. By the way, I need bigger hands because my daughter’s stomach apparently holds quite a bit.

It didn’t help that she spewed in the center room of our friend’s house where everyone could see. The table, the rug, her and me all were covered in vomit. My wife and I couldn’t clean it up fast enough. Or good enough. It felt like the entire room froze and stared.

We left shortly after. The smell may still be in our friend’s home. I know it was still there when we left, despite our best efforts.

We didn’t go to church the next day. We didn’t want her spewing there too. My wife’s calling our friends today to apologize again and volunteer to get their room cleaned.

But does this mean we’re going to have to change churches? Are we forever the people with the vomiting kid?

God’s will

storiesofgrace — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 16:19:26 +0000

It’s been a long time since I’ve written in this space. Grace’s doing great, growing more wonderful each day. She’s actually walking around now. And she’s going to be a skunk for Halloween. The cutest skunk in the world.

I heard this song this morning and I couldn’t help but think it’s a story of Grace. I hope you enjoy.

I met God’s Will on a Halloween night
He was dressed as a bag of leaves
It hid the braces on his legs at first

His smile was as bright as the August sun
When he looked at me
As he struggled down the driveway, it almost
Made me hurt

Will don’t walk too good
Will don’t talk too good
He won’t do the things that the other kids do,
In our neighborhood

[Chorus:]
I’ve been searchin’, wonderin’, thinkin’
Lost and lookin’ all my life
I’ve been wounded, jaded, loved and hated
I’ve wrestled wrong and right
He was a boy without a father
And his mother’s miracle
I’ve been readin’, writin’, prayin’, fightin’
I guess I would be still
Yeah, that was until
I knew God’s Will

Will’s mom had to work two jobs
We’d watch him when she had to work late
And we’d all laugh like I hadn’t laughed
Since I don’t know when

Hey Jude was his favorite song
At dinner he’d ask to pray
And then he’d pray for everybody in the world but him

[Chorus]

Before they moved to California
His mother said, they didn’t think he’d live
And she said each day that I have him, well it’s just
another gift
And I never got to tell her, that the boy
Showed me the truth
In crayon red, on notebook paper, he’d written
Me and God love you

I’ve been searchin’, prayin’, wounded, jaded
I guess I would be still
Yeah that was until…
I met God’s Will on a Halloween night
He was dressed as a bag of leaves

A break in the clouds

storiesofgrace — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 17:27:03 +0000

For the past 6 six weeks or so, it has rained nearly every day here. Then the clouds broke, the sun’s rays came spewing through and people hit the sidewalks, roads and lakes to enjoy the weather.

My daughter’s surgery was a lot like that. A lot of tension and worry followed by overflowing joy. The doctor removed three lymphnodes and a cyst and indicated none of them were anything to worry about. He sent them off for tests, but believes the swollen lymphnodes are the result of an infection of some sort.

My wife and I are overjoyed. We have had such a blast with our daughter this week that I haven’t had a chance to write in this space. My wife and daughter are wonderful.

Thank each of you who prayed for her.

A doctor’s visit I’ll never forget

storiesofgrace — Fri, 06 Jul 2007 03:44:11 +0000

This is the fourth time I’ve tried to write this post. I’ve made a committment to myself to post whatever I write tonight. I don’t expect this post to come out eloquent or smooth.

Last week, my wife and I took our daughter to a specialist so he could examine her. A few months ago she developed a lump about the size of a marble on her neck. We were told it was a swollen lymphnode and it would go away. So we kept watching it. One swollen lymphnode turned into two. Now there’s a third lump in her chest and the specialist is going to operate on my daughter to remove the lumps and test them.

The doctor says he’s 99 percent sure the lumps are swollen lymphnodes that are trying to fight off an infection. But that still leaves a one percent chance the lumps could be something else, something else real bad. And that one percent scares me tremendously.

What’s worse, there’s nothing I can do to fight that one percent. I can’t change what’s going on with my daughter. I can’t take the lumps on myself. If I could, I would.

So I do what I can. I hold her a little longer. Cherish every smile she flashes a little more. Spend a little more time with my daughter. I find myself drifting off a bit more as I think of her during the day.

I find it difficult to talk about my daughter’s situation with anyone for fear of breaking down. When I think no one’s looking, tears sometimes fall.

And I pray a bit more. I pray with all my heart, with all my being. And I trust God as much as I can. I know He can take away my daughter if He wants. I just pray He doesn’t.

My daughter has surgery July 10. If you read this, I’d appreciate if you’d pray for her as well. Members of our Sunday School class have committed to pray for her. Our pastor called today and did the same. But I’d appreciate every prayer that goes up for my daughter.

Trouble’s a brewin’

storiesofgrace — Sun, 24 Jun 2007 02:41:08 +0000

Keeping my daughter out of trouble just got a lot tougher. This week she started getting up on her knees to crawl around. Soon she will be moving faster than ever and grabbing things that were previously out of reach.

She’s also started pushing herself up into a sitting position all by herself.

But the scariest news in the short term is that she learned to open drawers by herself. She slides them open and closed all the time. She hasn’t tried to grab anything in them yet, but it’s just a matter of time.

She’s too cute.

On being young

storiesofgrace — Sat, 23 Jun 2007 17:22:07 +0000

It’s wonderful watching my daughter move around the house. She believes there’s nothing she can’t do if she tries hard enough. She can reach something if she stretches a little further. She can get what she wants if she smiles a little bigger.

She never appears to think that she can’t do something.

The other day she heard my wife moving around on the other side of the house, and I saw the gears in her head begin moving. I wonder what mom’s doing? I wonder if I can help. I think I’m going to find out. And of she went, dragging her body across the floor with her hands and arms. She stopped a few times to let out a frustrated yell, but then she started right back on her journey. She nearly made it across the house when my wife came out the room she was in and found her and picked her up. My daughter was so happy.

Another dream fulfilled. There’s nothing she can’t do.