Life Is Battlefield

Life is a battle!

How often do we face that reality in a single day?

Even the best days of my life have been tainted by the ups and downs of emotions, relationship, weather, money, and anything else that can be colored by good and bad.

One of the reasons that there haven't been a lot of recent pictures of Padraig has been the battle that is revealed on his surface.  I didn't realize that I had pulled back from taking pictures until we were doing our evening ritual of lotions, oils and hydration tonight.  His cheeks and head are looking a lot better and I started to think of all of the pictures we should take before he ceases to be a baby and becomes the little boy that is right around the corner.

I say that the battle is worn on his face, because of an habitual wake up ritual that began about a month ago.  We de-swaddle our son and immediately his hands would go to his face.  At first it was cute to watch him have control enough to rub his eyes and stretch and itch.  It stopped being cute when I picked him up and kissed his damp cheek.

I thought to myself, "He wasn't crying"

When I left our room to let Joy sleep I discovered his bloody cheek which he had rubbed raw.  Since then he has scratched and gouged and more often than not worn socks on his hands to lessen the damage.

The current lesson that my son is teaching me is one of wisdom and discipline.  He is not yet able to connect his actions to consequences, but I am.  I say that life is a battle, but how often do I stand my ground and fight?  It seems too regular that I am reactionary or instinctive rather than patient and faithful in the wisdom that I am given.

Our new camera lens arrives in just a couple of days.  We will be posting pictures from Ireland and home as soon as we have them.  I will seek to share intentional shots that portray victory and beauty in a world that is distressed by the waves of bitterness and pride.

We invite you to take a moment and pray what it would mean for you to be patient and faithful.  Please share your stories of hope.  I believe more than ever that this world and the events of our lives are not neutral and I would like to be a soldier amidst an army.

Until then, I will seek to fight humbly for justice and mercy.

Shout out to James

We have a dear friend named James Nixon.

He decided that he did not like us anymore, and moved back to the land down under.

We miss him.

Alot!

Christmas always will remind us of James.  He would cook a series of amazing meals during the holiday season, each accompanied with beautiful place settings, fine wine and the best conversation.  

Sidenote - in Ireland, the art of conversation is called crack.  James has the best crack.

We have an "Ode to James" section of our house to remind us of James.  It includes a series of light up present boxes that he gave us, as well as a signed inflatable kangaroo.  I know not everyone has one of these blow-up treasures, and therefore would have difficulty picturing what such a creature.  See below.

Who doesn't want an inflatable kangaroo?  Well we have one, and we refuse to give it up.

James, this is a reminder that you have a family in Colorado who values the role you have played and continue to play in our lives.  We miss you dearly! 

If you ever want to move back, our loft is always available. 

So sweet!

New Album 1/15/09 10:58 PM

God must really like me

There are some mornings when I wake up feeling like the day was made just for me.  Today was one of those days.  The clouds crept down the flatirons this morning, and as I watched our street be overcome by the fog, I knew it - God must really like me.  For some, the sun is a source of happiness, but I often have an opposite reaction.  I love cloudy, rainy days.  I love that the fog makes everything seem mysterious.  Leaf-bare trees and plain buildings become romanticized when they are covered by the mist.  This is the weather of my people.  It was a pity that I had to go to work today, since I would have much rather sat at home and watched a movie or read a book.  I had to work today, since I have taken a few days to be sick this week.  Bobby has been very kind while I have laid on he couch doing nothing for quite some time.

Sidenote - Bobby can make really good chicken noodle soup from scratch!  Who knew?

So today I am thankful for a number of things

1. My little boy and hubby have not taken on any of my illness...yet

2. I enjoy Bobby's soup much more than the canned variety

3. God really likes me

Ouch!

We're back.  Thanks to those who encouraged me to keep signing in.  To be honest being able to put thoughts into words is therapeutic and I am often in need of...wait a minute.

I apologize if my pondering become too deep.  Padge wanted to chime in and he is a pretty deep guy.

Last night marked the first game of the "B League" Internationals.  Our soccer team is going places and Padge plans to ride our coat tails to the top.  Anyway, we lost 11-10.  It was a bummer, but the bigger pain came with about 7 minutes left when the other teams goalie intentionally stepped on my knee.  Yikes!

My first response was to tell him about the love of Jesus in his native tongue. (I think that it was French?)

I woke up to a limp and a lot of soreness.  During the replays in my mind my constant response was vengeance.  I couldn't figure it out.  He said sorry after the game.  Our team scored as a direct result to my true reaction which was to get entangled with him as I stood up.  Finally my leg is sore, but in about 5 years time it shouldn't hurt anymore.  (That's a correct estimate for a 30 year old's body to heal, right?)

I am blown away by the reality of grace and redemption.  Last night was a reminder that my personal reaction to blatant disregard concerning self and my well being by others is neither of those.  Thank goodness that I am not in charge of much in life.

The Point: I was pondering the frustration that I encounter at 4:01, 4:09, 4:13, ... in the morning when my son chooses to play rather than sleep.  It is a lot more similar to having my knee stepped on by a stranger than I would like to admit.  I have rights!  I should be respected!  I know how things should work! (These things really do scream in my subconscious)

The truth is, and I am guessing that fatherhood will reveal many more lessons like this one, that when I recognize the giver of grace and redemption those arguments are laid to rest.  Sure, sleep is nice and walking convenient, but I did not create the need or ability for either.  With a smile and a coo our son is teaching me how to be thankful in the midst of both pleasant and trying circumstances.  

He still needs to learn to sleep, but the giver of all things deserves recognition and praise!

PS.  If you are curious about how I respond to the goalie my knee should be healed by March 15th when we play their team next.  You are more than welcome to join us.

Too Long

I am not sure that anyone even checks this blog anymore.  I do apologize for the tardiness of the posting.

Today I spoke with a dad that is going in for his second ultrasound tommorrow.  He and his wife went to their first ultrasound a few months ago only to discover the absence of their baby's heart beat.  Today is a day that he is anticipating, and for all intents and purposes excited about.  I celebrate his choice to find hope in the midst of potentially scary circumstances.

Too often I choose to look at a singular instance and forget the magnificence of the Big Picture.  I value that we live before a God of justice, though I don't always understand the difference between justice and fairness.  More than that I am thankful that we live as the result of a loving God whose intended design is "very good".  

Too often we are reminded of the brokenness of this world which is contrary to what I believe to be God's revealed and intended design.  A common result is a projection of fear, rather than hopeful anticipation of the newness of each day.  My friend faces today with hope, but it is a choice to see this day as new and different than the harder ones that have gone before it.

Joy and I see this tension between hope and brokenness each day as parents of our son, Padraig.  When he wakes it is a day of new possibilities.  His smiles, his ability to track, sitting up (not on his own).  Right now his whole body is revealing the brokenness.  His skin is flaky, his face is scratched and more often than not he has poop in his pants, his stomach is empty and he is tired.

The lesson that I am learning from my son is to choose to return to the innocence that he possesses.  Each time we pick him up from a nap he stretches, rubs his eyes and looks into the eyes of those who care for him and smiles.  Today, along with my son and my friend who are discovering life in new and dynamic ways, I choose hope.