“My Heart’s Beating For Two” (Story & MP3)

July 16th, 2009

(NOTE: the link to the MP3 is in the body of this story- keep reading)

I’m a bit wordy, if you haven’t noticed.  Verbosity is both my strength and my vice.  Laura always says that I use two-hundred words to say what could have been said in twenty.  She’s right . . . which reminds me of a story that you must hear.

For those of you who don’t know me very well, my “love language” is most definitely words of affirmation.  It’s how I express myself and the way that I best receive someone’s communication.  Others dabble in acts of service or are obsessed with quality time and those things are all well and good.  Me?  I much prefer to say what I’m feeling . . . or better yet, to capture my feelings through writing or music (big surprise there as you are reading this.)

Enter John, the prospective new father.  When Laura and I discovered that she was pregnant, my brain instantly went into writing mode.  Just for the sake of context, you should probably know that I wrote a song to propose to my wife and performed it for her amidst an extravagant plan of smoke and mirrors that landed me post-song on one knee “fixing” the crickety old piano bench where within her engagement ring had been strategically placed.  

If that weren’t enough, before our wedding, I had kept, organized, and had bound into an anthology every single email that Laura and I had sent to each other from the first one up to the day that she went into the hospital with her brain aneurysm.  You must understand that much of our dating relationship occurred via phone calls and email (long before the age of MySpace or Facebook) because we were four hours apart at different colleges.  

So capturing a moment is a big deal to me because I know that it only comes around once in a lifetime.  Rabbit-trail back to the days of early pregnancy and you can only imagine what schemes were being concocted in my wordy little mind.  

It didn’t take long for a song to brew within me, so I began to write it.  After a few months of secret writing, I had completed it with some help from my musically-brilliant best friend, Jonnie.  Next, the secret plan went into production mode . . . for to write a song is one thing, but to have a professionally-produced recording is far more complicated . . . I mean romantic.  

So, I began tracking the instruments in secret while Laura wasn’t around.  I was working with a new program, so it honestly took way more time than it should have . . . but my envisioned moment of playing this amazing song in the hospital for Laura after our new baby was here kept me completely focused on the task at hand.  It would so be worth it!

The song was pretty emotional . . . so even though I’m not the biggest country music fan, I knew that country would be the most appropriate genre.  So after finishing the track and editing it with my amazing production partner, Jeffrey Holland, we sought out and found an incredible country-music vocalist who agreed to lay it down for me.  When it was all said and done, the result was what I considered to be a pretty good song called, “My Heart’s Beating For Two” that chronicled our life story up to the point of our baby entering our world.  The scene was set for a tear-jerking reveal on the “big day.”

That day finally came on July 15th, 2008 when Sadie made her grand entrance.  Mommy was doing well and things were progressing as planned.  I had borrowed a portable iPod player with speakers from a friend and had prepared for the moment of all moments.  Finally, all the nurses and doctors left the room and Laura and I were left with our little bundle of joy and I pulled the trigger.  I set up the speakers and pushed play.  

Here’s the song for your pleasure . . . stop and listen, but then come back for the rest of the story.

Click on the following link to hear the MP3 (should open in Quicktime or whatever media player you are using):  \”My Heart\’s Beating For Two\”

Much to my chagrin, about halfway through the first verse, Sadie began crying hysterically.  Hmmm, hadn’t really accounted for that little possibility.  So, my “brilliantly-written” stanzas were being eclipsed by the illustrious sounds of new artist, Sadie Driver.  What happened next was nothing less than tragic . . . at that exact moment, Laura’s medication from surgery began to wear off and she turned a bright shade of green.  Sweat instantly began pouring from her forehead and I could tell that a healthy dose of vomit was fast approaching.  

I grabbed the screaming baby, found a container, and began assisting my wife as she threw up over and over again . . . all the while, my beautiful song was setting a serene mood in the background.  My elaborate, nine-month plan was finally “executed” . . . violently slaughtered, I should say.  

To be honest, it was quite amusing and when life settled a bit, Laura was finally able to hear the song . . . which she really liked.  But I’ll never forget the fact that the best laid plans of mice and John . . . well, you know the rest.

You see, we can’t account for the intricacies of what life will bring today.  Sometimes we will feel tossed and turned by an unexpected storm that blew in at an inopportune time.  That is the nature of life, yet we are surprised every time.  However, whether it is anticipated or not, you can rest assured that drastic and unexpected “turns” are coming.

Appropriately, my wife’s favorite passage casts a life preserver of hope to those of us floating in seas of unexpected difficulty.  “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21 NIV)

For me, the “turn” of Sadie’s outburst and Laura’s nausea seemingly shipwrecked my best intentions, but at the end of the day, what was important was still there.  My wife had made it through childbirth.  My little darling was healthy.  We still had many days ahead to listen to my little song, but God had sustained us with His loving voice no matter what turns had arisen.

So wherever you are and whatever you have planned, don’t let abrupt changes rob you of your security or your joy.  Listen for the voice . . . He’s still speaking . . . no matter how much screaming or throwing up may be going on around you . . . spiritually, of course.

Big Days and Big Hands: The Chronicles of Sadie

July 15th, 2009

It’s hard to believe, but today is the day!  One year ago today, Laura and I were in totally different circumstances.  We were thinking of totally different things and our lives were about to take a totally different turn.  One year ago today, our little Sadie was born.

Since we were having a scheduled c-section due to Laura’s medical history, our birthing experience didn’t begin as dramatically as in the movies.  There were no sudden contractions.  There was no screaming on Laura’s part (or on mine, for that matter.)  I didn’t fire up the car and screech down the road at breakneck speed while Laura huffed and puffed her lamaze breathing in the back seat.  

No, the morning was quiet.  If you know my wife, then you know that our bags had been packed for weeks.  All was ready . . . except us.  We weren’t scheduled to go in until about 11:00 am, so the morning was very strange.  We sat on the couch and waited . . . and waited.  We made what small talk we could, but mostly we waited.

Then suddenly, someone burst through the door that leads to our garage, screaming and shouting.  I almost had a coronary, but then I realized that it was only Greg, Laura’s brother.  He and Laura’s mom had arrived early for the big day and were just stopping in to say hello.  Once my pulse returned to normal, we embarked for the hospital.  It was a weird drive because I kept thinking that when I would drive back home in a few days, there would be three of us in the car instead of two.  Yikes!

After we had checked in, more waiting ensued . . . it’s sort of the hospital way.  Laura’s family and my family both showed up for a pre-baby show of support and then we were finally whisked away to the operating room.  After prepping Laura, they prepared to give her the spinal (an injection into her spinal cord that deadens her from the waist down.)  About that time, I was asking if they would give me some too . . . just for nerves.  She was a trooper, as usual.

Then, they put her on the operating table and invited me back into the room.  She was completely covered in like twenty-seven surgical blankets and was wearing a lovely surgical hat and mask.  The great part was that I got to wear the hat and mask as well . . . I was one step away from being a doctor . . . well, minus the money, knowledge, and respect of course.

Then, you’ll never guess what happened . . . we waited some more.  Our doctor kept getting caught up with other patients who were having emergencies on her way to our room and since we were more than happy to not be in an emergency situation, we passed the time talking “medical-speak” with the other nurses and assistants . . . well, Laura did most of the talking.  I remember that we were on the top floor of Centennial Women’s Hospital in Nashville and that I could clearly see all of downtown from where we were.  I also distinctly remember thinking it odd that there was a radio mounted in the wall that controlled the speakers in the ceiling.  I was allowed to choose whatever station I desired.  Again, not your typical birthing experience.

Finally, our doctor arrived and the procedure began with little pomp.  A sheet was raised up around Laura’s neck so that we couldn’t see the actual procedure, but we could see each other.  It was a very interesting experience, mainly because Laura literally couldn’t feel anything because of her spinal.  I kept asking her if she was okay, and she just smiled and talked to me as if we were watching television together at home.  She even commented that it felt a little bit like they were tickling her. 

I assured her that what was going on behind that curtain was no tickle . . . later on when the drugs wore off, she agreed.

Since we were having a c-section, Laura had warned me that Sadie might not be as pink or cry loudly like other babies since she hadn’t been through the full-birthing process.  I was emotionally prepared for a little slightly blue, quiet baby that they might have to help breathe for a while.  Sadie would have none of it . . . in a matter of minutes, she entered the world bright pink and screaming bloody murder . . . much to the delight of everyone in the room.

Because she was doing so well, the nurses even brought her back around the curtain for an extended amount of time so that Laura and I could both spend time with her.  Everyone was so relaxed that the nurses were snapping pictures for us.  It was a glorious moment.

 

But it got even better.  They allowed me to carry the little princess down the elevator and into the nursery . . . and to stay with her as all the measuring, poking, and prodding commenced.  She was perfect . . . even with her slightly misshaped head and crooked foot from being lodged against Laura’s hip bone (it’s okay, we got her ironed out over time.)  As I stood there with all of our family watching from behind the glass, my little Sadie held my finger in her hand and all was right with the world.

The rest of the day was long and full of events, but I will always remember the moment when Sadie first held my hand.  Today, she’s still holding it and one day, she’ll hold it as I walk her down an aisle to give her hand to some other, lesser-man’s hand (I joke of course . . . mostly.)

The instinct to grasp the hand of her father is a striking similarity to our ability to find the hand of our Father in the midst of every situation.  You may not understand where you are in the “hospital” of your current mindset or situation.  You may not be able to understand the words that are being spoken over you or why life keeps poking you in the foot with sharp objects (spiritually, of course.)

But what you can count on is the hand of God as described by Isaiah: “Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”  (Isaiah 41:10 NKJV)

You don’t have to understand where you are, just reach up and take hold of His hand.

On this celebrated day, I’m still holding to the hand of my Father asking Him to help me as my precious one holds to mine.

The Sleeping Miracle: The Chronicles of Sadie

July 14th, 2009

The first few weeks at home with a newborn are a seismic shift in attitude, emotion, and most noticeably, schedule.  Your “old” life of television-watching, meal-eating, casual talks on the veranda (okay, so we don’t actually have a veranda), and impromptu trips to go fetch ice cream or rent movies happens in very short segments called nap times.  

It’s really quite amusing, but the moment that the delicate space-time continuum is appeased yet again . . . as those little eye lids begrudgingly agree to shut . . . as Mommy and Daddy tiptoe gingerly through her room after laying her down, careful not to inadvertently step on a stuffed animal or toy and thus disrupt the fragile equilibrium of nap time and send “crying arrows” flying from the crib like the first scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark . . . yeah, that’s what your downtime is now like.

Okay, so maybe I exaggerate just a bit . . . there are no arrows; but you get the point.  Nap time is the only semblance left of the old way of living.  And come on, it’s really only a figurehead of what used to exist.  We didn’t have to whisper in the old days . . . or lie down in exhaustion because we hadn’t had a full-night’s sleep in four weeks . . . or clean dried spit-up off the floor.  Truth be told, the nap time return to normalcy is all an illusion . . . a moment of self-deception that tries to relive the glory days.

Of course I jest because these are the best glory days.  For all you would-be parents out there who quiver at the horror stories of babydom, don’t listen to the critics . . . it’s a piece of cake (wink, wink.)  

Okay, so it may not all be simple, but life around the Driver house did experience a sizable emotional upswing in Sadie’s fifth week of life “on the outside.”  Up to that point, we were accustomed to having Sadie down around 8:00 pm.  In the first week or so, you could count on being awakened by about 11:00 pm for a much-needed feeding and then again somewhere around 2:00 or 3:00 am.  Then, you could plan on enjoying three or maybe even four luxurious hours of uninterrupted snoozing before the 6:00 or 7:00 am feeding.  Sounds awesome, doesn’t it.

Enter five-week-old Sadie, stage center . . . the only place on our stage she’s ever been.  Laura and I collapsed . . . I mean lay down to sleep as usual.  By this point, it was not unusual for Sadie to skip the 11:00 pm feeding and sleep on through til about 3:00 or 4:00 am.  This was already feeling like heaven!  If you played your cards right and completely sacrificed your personal and social time, you might snag a whole five hours of sleep.  Anyhoo, so we lay down one night when low and behold, the middle of the night feeding cry never came.  Sadie slept all the way through the night!

Laura and I danced through the hallways like children on Christmas morning.  Sadie was showered with accolades and kisses of thanksgiving . . . to which she responded with a hearty spit-up . . . an obvious gesture of appreciation.  We called everyone we knew to brag on our little “big” girl.  Mostly, we tried not to jinx it for we knew that if the trend did not continue, we had tasted the promised land and returning to the Egypt of sleepless nights would now no longer suffice.  Sadie had either prepared us for new seasons of joy or she had tempted our taste buds and consigned us to utter disappointment.

Time did tell.  The miracle continued.  A family was changed forever.  

For the most part, our little Sadie Bell slept all the way through the night from there on out, pending sickness or extreme circumstances.  I could credit our attempts to regulate her schedule or my sublime skills as a parent.  Mostly, I just credit the mercy of God on our sleepless selves.  Whatever the reason, sleep was restored and the universe took on a slightly more manageable hew.  

A good night’s rest is a reflection of serenity.  In the day and age where millions can’t seem to achieve this most basic human necessity without medication, sleep is nothing less than a prized commodity.  To rest means that one’s mind, body, and consciousness have all collectively agreed to remove the guard-on-duty and let the fields of oneself lie fallow for a short season.  You can’t be productive in sleep.  You can’t get work done.  You can’t guard yourself or your family.  Sleep is a moment of utter vulnerability . . . and yet it is also a moment of complete trust that someone who is awake is taking care of things.

The Psalmist, David, knew some things about sleepless nights.  A man of war.  A man pursued by his enemies who was forced to hide out in caves and run for his life.  Yet, he said this: “In peace I will lie down and sleep,for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.”  (Psalm 4: 8 NLT)

I know that Sadie slept through the night because her little body had grown to the point that she could sustain her own blood sugar levels for that long and that she was eating enough food to not wake up hungry.  But also, she felt safe.  She wasn’t concerned with her safety or whether or not the world would continue spinning if her eyes were to shut.

Sometimes, we tend to think that if our heads ever stop spinning, so will the world.  Maybe it’s time to find rest in the only One who actually holds the world in His hands.  A full-night’s rest may be closer than you think . . . it may be just a matter of filling your mind and spirit with His nutrition and feeling comfortable that He can handle whatever arises as you slumber away.

Just like Sadie, your rest is a big deal to your Father . . . and to the rest of us as well.

The Changing Table: The Chronicles of Sadie

July 9th, 2009

I don’t necessarily remember that exact time that it happened, but when Sadie began turning on the smiles, life changed around the Driver household . . . yet again.  That little toothless grin turned me into Daddy-fondue . . . cheesy, melted, and ready for finger-wrapping.  

Baby-smiling isn’t as simple of a concept as you might think.  An untested parent, such as myself, will assume that once said baby has the ability to smile that she will commence with said smiling at any and all opportune times.  Ah, my friend, nothing could be further from the truth!  Babies are the masters of their own smiling universes and the domain is tightly controlled by their fickle little whims.

But don’t tell me that!  I’m Daddy and I am more stubborn than any baby can ever be!  Thus, the first days of smiling turned me into Ray Ray, The Idiot Circus Boy.  I made every face, expression, and noise possible in attempts to induce a grin from Sadie.  No amount of contortion . . . no unnatural movement of my facial features . . . no number of belly-blowings or “zerberts” were too much for me.  Smiles became my drug and I awkwardly danced around like Pinocchio to get my fix.

But there were plenty of times that my efforts were completely fruitless and Sadie would withhold her treasures of expression from us no matter how ridiculously stupid Daddy looked or sounded at the moment.  There are moments in life when you step outside yourself and take a look at the big picture only to realize that you’re hopping on one foot while sticking your thumbs in your ears while smacking yourself in the face with your remaining free fingers while making raspberry noises with your mouth . . . and your baby is looking at you exactly the way you deserve to be looked at . . . like you’re an idiot.

At these unexpected moments of parental actualization, one must ponder the question: who is really in charge here?  The baby who refuses to smile or the parent who is dancing around like a wild banshee?  

However, I did find one particular variable early on that seemed to do the trick as far as getting smiles from the munchkin: the changing table.  Before I was a parent, I really didn’t think about the idea that you needed a special piece of furniture as a location to change diapers, put on lotion, brush little hairs, or put on clothes.  The changing table is a furniture addition exclusive to the households that have children.

For whatever reason, Sadie loved being laid down on the changing table.  Her eyes would light up and the smiles would be dispensed liberally with very little “stupid-trick” currency required.  In fact, there were days that Laura and I would stay at the changing table for twenty or thirty minutes at a time just because Sadie seemed to enjoy her time there so much.

I suppose it had to do with positioning or a decrease in outside distractions.  Maybe it was a pavlovian effect from the fact that she always felt cleaner and more refreshed when she left the changing table than when she was first laid down there.  Who knows?  All I know is that table became a favorite destination for us in the early days of infancy.

Later on, Sadie became less fond of lying on the changing table.  In fact, sometimes she would cry just walking towards it.  This only happened after she was more mobile and was interested in exploring every minute facet of our home . . . especially the dog’s food and water bowls.  I lamented losing our time there, but I suppose that’s the way it goes.

I think that we’re the same way with our heavenly Father.  In the infancy of our faith, we are delighted to be “changed” by Him.  In all reality, what happens at the changing table is messy and gross.  It’s the caretaker cleaning up the one who can’t care for herself.  However, the parent is more than overjoyed to do it and the baby is more than overjoyed to simply allow herself to be cleaned and cared for.

But as we get older, we become less fond of our time on the table.  We have too many other things pulling at us and clamoring for our attention.  We forget that we still have things that need to be cleansed, but we’re so busy exploring the boundaries of our little worlds that we resent stopping for just a few moments to again allow the Father to make us clean and ready.

Romans 12: 2 (NLT) reveals these truths, “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.”  (emphasis mine) 

Good.  Pleasing.  Perfect.  Sounds like an enjoyable experience to me.

The place of allowing God to change us should be a location of utter joy in our lives.  I pray that I may become childlike again in this respect . . . that I may again anticipate and even long for the moments when the distractions of my life’s pursuits are paused and my Father tends to changes that are needed in me.  It should be a daily occurrence . . . if not an hour-by-hour necessity of life.  Only He can change us, but only we can offer ourselves to His table.

Father, take me back to the changing table because it is my delight to be with You and to be transformed by You.

Hey, try smiling the next time that God reaches for you.  The gross part is His; you have nothing to lose but nastiness.

Skype Seasons: The Chronicles of Sadie

July 7th, 2009

Youth Ministry has been an interesting environment where within to parent an infant.   Our ministry has always been very active and very mobile.  Trips and events are usually constants and are constantly filled with change and adventure.  These features of our life as a couple are some of the main reasons that Laura and I were glad we waited almost eight years to have Sadie.

But life didn’t suddenly simplify the moment Sadie made her grandiose entrance.  As they say, the show must go on.  In our case, the show “went” to the National Fine Arts Festival in Charlotte, North Carolina only three weeks after Sadie was born.  Now, this was quite the undertaking for several reasons.  First of all, Daddy had grown just a bit fond . . . well, and attached to seeing baby-girl any time he wanted to . . . well, and even sometimes in the middle of the night when he didn’t want to so much.  For me, as much as I love taking my students all over the country for the next adventure, three weeks into fatherhood was not my ideal timing for such a trip.

Furthermore, Laura and I have always been an inseparable team in marriage, ministry, and whatever stage of life we find ourselves in.  These trips are always tag-team efforts; but in Charlotte, I was going without my partner who was at home not only still recovering from a c-section, but also taking care of our little needy darling.  Thankfully, she had the help of some amazing grandparents, but nevertheless we were still each doing crucial life things apart  . . . things that we always do together.

I’ve always had an affinity for travel, especially in my younger days.  My parents often half-joke that the day I drove out of the driveway to go to college that they never saw me again.  I just like moving and viewing the world from different vantage points.  I’ve traveled from the extreme northern regions of Iceland to the intense southern reaches of Bolivia and numerous destinations in between . . . and I hope to expand my travel journal in the future.

However, traveling under these “new father” conditions curbed my appetite for geographic adventure.  The trip to Charlotte was one of the better Fine Arts trips that we have ever taken.  The students were mostly well-behaved.  The city was a nice place to visit.  We performed well.  We ate well.  We were safe and all things were enjoyable.

Except that I was missing my wife and daughter.

The story would end sappy and sad if not for the advent of a crucial piece of technology: Skype.  Skype is a free online video chat program that allows you to see and speak with someone on the other side of the world via a simple webcam.  I will never forget logging in and seeing Laura holding Sadie . . . fresh out of her bath time and into her jammies.  Sadie was obviously too young to spend much time looking at the screen, but it did seem that she reacted to my voice . . . and that meant a lot to me at the time.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve repeated it thousands of times . . . yet it’s still true.  One who desires to find the greatest joy in life must become a student of seasons.  Life changes often and those who refuse to accept the present moment because it seems drastically dissimilar from yesterday are destined to dwell in constant disappointment.  Life will change.  Seasons do shift.  It’s not a matter of “if”, but “when.”

And when they do shift, here’s the best part: God always has a connection open.  We can “Skype” Him in any and every season.  Though our surroundings may be unfamiliar and our present condition may be non-preferable, our God is never unreachable.  

David seemed to understand this when he wrote: “I can never escape from your Spirit!  I can never get away from your presence!  If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there . . . I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night— but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.”  (Psalm 139: 7-9; 10-12 NLT)

So what’s your “even in . . . ”  Even in temptation, He is there.  Even in depression, He is there.  Even in confusion, He is there.  Even in new seasons, He is there.  Even in Charlotte, He is there.  

What wonderment we have received just to think that our God never closes the lines of communication no matter how distant we feel, how lost we are, or how drastically our seasons seemed to have shifted.  Just like Sadie, we may not necessarily see Him from where we are, but we are assured that we can always hear His voice.

Are you far away in some strange season?  Try Skyping God . . . spiritually, of course . . . His availability is as constant as the changing seasons of life . . . more so, in fact.

Fragile Expectations: The Chronicles of Sadie

July 6th, 2009

Someone this past weekend commented to me in good fun that they are enjoying my musings over fatherhood and Sadie, but that they are also looking forward to our return to Proverbs.  All in good time, my friends!  I guarantee that we shall continue that sojourn soon; but again, I can’t help but take the next few days to reflect upon my little near-toddler treasure as the countdown has begun to her first birthday.

My next anecdote concerns an experience that honestly in the pre-baby days, terrified me: bath time.  I’ve never been afraid of babies; in fact, I’m probably more comfortable than most men with them.  I’m kind of a ham with the baby-talk and affection and what not . . . it’s just who I am.

However, I did carry a certain anxiety concerning little babies; you know, newborns.  They just seemed so tiny.  Fragile.  Breakable.  Ugh, I shudder even at the thought.  To most guys, that miniscule little bundle of soft, cooing humanity might as well be an egg who’s shell threatens to shatter at the slightest hint of movement.  I think that we anticipate that little head just rolling right off the shoulders!  I know, I know . . . it’s horrible . . . but it’s high-time someone tell the truth about the male anxiety regarding newborns.

Couple that with the imagined experience of getting that little horrifyingly fragile person wet, slippery, and even more droppable, well . . . you’ve got the makings of a nice ulcer.  Just ask a few guys who’s wives are pregnant with their first child.  I’m not making this stuff up.

So when that little “Sadie Burrito” (see previous blogs for explanation) was finally laid in my arms, emotional security began to build that she wouldn’t just crumble to pieces at any moment.  In fact, she seemed quite resilient . . . within reason.  I began to learn that babies are quite flexible . . . even malleable.  They are like little bundles of cartilage whose heads and limbs change shapes and positions for months to come.  Sadie no longer seemed nearly as fragile . . . she seemed more like a little elastic superhero!

Thus, my anxiety lessened concerning the upcoming maiden voyage of the bath boat.  Laura and I had heard that babies love baths . . . that they were soothing and relaxing for all parties involved.  Yeah, that sounded nice!  

So, after the first few days at home, we prepared ourselves for the magical experience by putting the little “newborn bathing tub” over the sink and gathering the assortment of camomile and lavender baby shampoos and lotions for nothing less than a day at the baby spa.  My mother-in-law even got the camera ready so that we could capture this mystical moment for all time.

The warm water was ready and the room was enchanted with the alluring aromas.  We undressed Sadie and placed her in the tub when much to our surprise, she began to scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs.  We thought she might get used to it after a few moments . . . we were wrong . . . terribly wrong!  

Sadie became so upset that her little naked body turned beet red as her cries rose into the night sky . . . awakening the heavens with her bloodcurdling tortuous shrieks of horror.  I later theorized that in her little mind, she was being made to return to the confines of the womb and she was not going quietly again into that still night.  It made for a nice photo (see below).  The moment we anticipated . . . a moment of rest and beauty . . . quickly morphed into the speediest sponge bath in history.  We almost called Guinness!

Sometimes . . . well, all the time . . . what we expect is completely different from what we experience.  Expectation and experience are cousins that speak different languages  and live on different sides of the world.  Are they related?  You bet!  Do they even remotely resemble each other?  Maybe only in some obscure physical features.

No other example is more readily observable than in our daily walk with Jesus.  What we expect is usually different from what we experience.  It isn’t all idealistic comfort, excitement, and restfulness . . . no, it’s better!  It’s a real life experience!  

Maybe that’s why James says, “Dear brothers and sisters,when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.  For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” (James 1: 1-4 NLT).

In other words, when the “baby” you expected to “coo” suddenly becomes possessed with infant ire, realize that you’re living real faith in a real life . . . spiritually, of course.  Trouble doesn’t necessarily mean that something is wrong; it may mean that something is right!  

That initial bath moment wasn’t what we were expecting, but it became a memory of great joy.  And it’s okay because later on, Sadie became a huge fan of baths . . . of which I will write more in the future.  Simply put, we mustn’t let unrealistic expectations rob us of the joy of our actual experience.  As Oswald Chambers said, “Let God be as unique with you as He is with everybody else.”  Sometimes the moment you least expect will become the memory you most greatly cherish.

Treasures and Strollers: The Chronicles of Sadie

June 30th, 2009

It has been many moons since I have sojourned with you all here in the world of The Daily Thread.  That’s summer, I suppose.  Heading to camp with the a huge number of the greatest students in the world.  A week with my whole family at the beach.  A varied multiplicity of other writing projects that have required my attention.  Life in general nearing the edge of insanity.

So, I pause from the madness to finally post a new blog.  It is my hope that the Thread will soon return to some semblance of normalcy (which wasn’t a real word until Warren G. Harding coined it back around 1920– check out my blog history for more tantalizing information).

Over the past year, I have written about many, many things.  However, as we coast through yet another summer, my heart is turned towards one of the dearest topics of my life: my little girl, Sadie.  It was almost one year ago that she made her grand entrance into our home and hearts.  In the beginning, I wrote fifteen or twenty Threads in honor of her and the changes in our little family.  As we approach her first birthday, I would like to again reflect for a season upon my little darling and what amazing things concerning life, love, and God I have learned from her unknowing tutelage.

When Sadie had been home about a week, we ventured outside the confines of our house.  All you “non-parents” out there may or may not realize that bringing home a baby is all about settling as quickly as possible into a routine . . . or at least it was for us.  Learning where the extra wipes and diapers are so you can find them in the middle of the night.  Planning moments of sanity where you plan to watch an hour of television together just to do something besides baby stuff.  Trying to standardize feeding and sleeping times for everybody’s sanity.

Most of the routine occurs inside the domain of “home.”  And for the first six weeks or so, we tried not to take her out to too many public places where she might be exposed to more germs than her little immune system was ready to repel.  Hence, the inside of the house became our constant . . . for better or for worse.  It was mostly better, but needless to say it didn’t take long to get more than a bit stir-crazy . . . especially for Laura.

Thus, we loaded up our little treasure into her car seat, snapping it into the handy-dandy stroller (one of those brilliantly-designed strollers made to fit the car seat so that you’re not transferring baby from seat to seat.)  With hands shielding our eyes from the blinding rays of the sun, we emerged from the front door like cave-dwellers facing the outside world for the first time.

Laura dressed Sadie to the hilt . . . because come on, a walk around the block produced the possibility that someone out there would probably see our darling. (see attached image)  I have to say that our first walk was one of my most special memories.  Sadie seemed to enjoy the change even though she was mostly unaware of her surroundings.  Of course, she was little enough that she eventually fell asleep . . . which provided Mommy and Daddy some nice time just to talk and enjoy the moment.

It was a walk I will never forget . . . a perfect illustration of the newness, anxiety, and unbridled excitement that we faced together as a family.  Our fragile little treasure finally outside with us.  Everything was wide-open to endless possibilities and we would face them together through all the drooling, crying, and pooping . . . not to mention what Sadie would be doing.

I suppose that as I walk through this life as a father and as a pastor, I find a similar theme among those who have met Jesus.  Just like my new parenthood, there are seasons of faith that are scary, exciting, and even nerve-racking.  

Galatians 5:25 (NKJV) says, “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.”  Where we live is the place that opens the door to where we walk.  Having a new baby was the prerequisite for strolling her through our neighborhood for the first time.  Knowing Jesus is the prerequisite for a Christian walk . . . ugh, please don’t zone out on these terms . . . think “non-Christianeze.”  

I think that we often face our “walk” with God more in fear of stumbling than in the hope and joy of the newness we have experienced and continue to experience with each passing day.  Sure, both are present, but on that first day in the neighborhood, the joy of my little treasure trumped all the anxieties of the new experience.  Similarly, the best treatment for a stagnant and fearful faith is to load up and walk with Jesus where you live.  

So, I pray today that you will take that which is most precious . . . the love and relationship you have with Jesus . . . and walk in your neighborhood with it.  I would say “with Him”, but I think that in this scenario, we are more likely the ones in the stroller instead of the ones pushing it.

As for Sadie, Laura and I will never forget the joy of taking our treasure out into the place where we walk.  It was the beginning of many, many more walks to come.

Action, Reaction, Principles, & Math

June 3rd, 2009

Focus Passage: Proverbs 14: 14 (NLT)

 ¹⁴ Backsliders get what they deserve;
      good people receive their reward. 

 

Stop Here and Reflect Before Reading Ahead

No one likes to think about it, but it affects us all each and everyday.  The “it” in question?  That would be the direct correlation between our actions and life’s subsequent reactions.  Action and reaction are abundantly found in every aspect of creation and living.

Close your eyes while sprinting through the woods . . . find yourself sitting in the emergency room.  Ignore that pesky fuel light on your dashboard . . . take a walk down the interstate in the rain.  Put money aside every week for thirty years . . . retire a millionaire earlier than you expected.  Ask a police officer to borrow his gun . . . wake up in the county lock-up with a headache and a rap sheet.

It’s truly remarkable how this principle plays out in every aspect of life.  I say “principle” because, as Andy Stanley says, a principle is true whether you realize it or not.  In other words, a host of humanity is seemingly oblivious to the fact that their actions directly cause other actions to be directed back toward them . . . yet the principle continues to occur.

Hey, feed my daughter a full bottle without burping her and then hold her above your head and play the “throw you up in the air” game . . . in this case, the “throw up” will produce “throw up.”  Don’t turn away in reader’s disgust at my use of this illustration; this principle often produces unfortunate results that are altogether repulsive.

The consequences (oooh, I’ve been trying to avoid that word) of our actions will always make their appearance.  Plant tomato seeds; reap tomatoes.  Plant apple seeds; reap apples.  Plant forgiveness; reap forgiveness.  Plant a lack of self-control; reap uncontrollable trouble upon yourself.  Plant the refusal to forgive others; reap a refusal to be forgiven.

Some would just call it simple math.  As a former math teacher, I can attest to the beauty of an algebraic equation.  The beauty comes from the fact that every time a value is correctly plugged into an equation, a predictable solution will emerge.  Sure, there are variables . . . but the standards are what keep everything . . . well, standard.

Consequences are standard too, and not just the negative ones.  Exercise produces better fitness.  Communication produces healthier marriages.  Self-discipline produces fatter wallets and thinner waistlines.

As this passage points out, “Backsliders get what they deserve; good people receive their reward.”  Yikes!  A “not-so-fun” proverbial aphorism at first glance.  However, we mustn’t judge scripture for being judgmental when it simply points out a principle that is played out in seemingly every facet of daily life.  

We shouldn’t get mad; we should get wise!  If we “slide backward” away from what we know to be true, then we leave the positives that were directly in front of us before.  Sliding back moves us away from our previous position . . . rocket science?   Maybe on Planet Moron, but not here on earth.

Similarly, being rewarded for doing good is also a predictable consequence.  You can’t always predict the “when” of this reward, but the “what” is a sure thing.  It’s coming; just keep planting.

Actions.  Reactions.  Principles.  Consequences.  It’s just all simple math . . . spiritually, of course.

Laugh Lines and Lifelines

June 1st, 2009

 Focus Text: Proverbs 14:13 (NLT)

¹³ Laughter can conceal a heavy heart,
      but when the laughter ends, the grief remains.

 

Stop Here and Reflect Before Reading Ahead

At first glance, this particular passage can be a bit unnerving.  Why?  Because we love to champion the verses of scripture that deal with the medicinal properties of a “merry heart.”  In this particular journey, those passages are just a few chapters ahead of where we are.  But for now, the author takes us down a preliminary path of understanding concerning this most mysterious and vital human particular.

I say human particular because you cannot find one other creature in all of creation who laughs.  Sure, you can finagle a dog’s bark to sound like laughter or even phrases such as “I Ruv Rou!”  But as my best friend and comedian Jonnie Wethington (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jonnie-W/76816021515) says, they’re probably tazing the poor animal off camera to get this response.  Simply put, humans are the only living creatures that have the ability to laugh.

When you really break it down, laughter is a funny thing . . . no pun intended.  It is a direct reflection of our cognitive and emotional selves, as opposed to just our physical or biological selves.  Sure, you can instigate laughter through the physical act of tickling, but even this is still tied to emotions.  How do I know?  Try tickling your spouse to get them to laugh on the middle of a heated argument . . . yeah, let me know how that one works out for you.  Trust me, laughter is cognitive and emotional.

This verse is not contradictory to the other passages about the intrinsic value of laughter to the condition of one’s heart and health.  No, in my opinion, it simply sets up the conditional truth that will make those passages make sense.  ”Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains.”  In other words, laughter is not a permanent solution to deeper issues of the heart.

Our culture is desperate to laugh . . . and rightfully so.  The issues of life weigh heavy upon our generation.  Entertainment has become an emotional escape . . . like a digital tickle that produces some relief in the form of laughter.  Hey, I want to laugh as much as anyone else.  I love a good comedy or a funny television series.  In my world, I’m surrounded by humorous people and situations.  Laughter is wonderful gift from the Creator.

But take note that eventually, the TV must be turned off.  At that point, as this scripture points out, the realities of life set back in.  Entertainment should be just that . . . entertainment.  Temporary moments of mental disengagement can be freeing and enjoyable, but we must not avoid the truth that what lies deep within us must be dealt with in deep ways.  Shallow escapes cannot repair deep wounds.

The goal is to laugh and enjoy the moment, yet still possess the peace, perspective, and presence of heart to know where true healing is found.  So laugh as often as possible, but don’t forget to deal with the heavy heart by allowing laughter’s Creator to perform His spiritual, surgical tickle down deep where it counts.  That way, moments of temporary joy might produce laugh lines on our faces, but they won’t be lifelines to our heart.  

There’s only one lifeline that works.

Paths and Principles

May 24th, 2009

Focus Passage: Proverbs 14: 12 (NLT)

¹² There is a path before each person that seems right,
      but it ends in death. 

 

Stop Here and Reflect Before Reading Ahead

Paths are a bit of a theme for me recently; in fact, it’s pretty strange how often this topic is raising its head in my life.  First of all, in my preparation to speak on Sunday, I felt inspired to dwell upon Proverbs 3:5-6 . . . which ends with the promise that when we trust in God, He will direct our “paths.”  Next, I happened to be reading a book by Andy Stanley called “The Principle of the Path.”  (I highly recommend it.) As I was reading this past weekend, the chapter in particular I was in happened to be based completely upon Proverbs 3:5-6– the exact verses of my topic for Sunday!

And now this!  Okay, I get it!  I need to think about paths.  Come, think with me.

I think that the most striking feature of this study of paths is the realization that the existence of paths is not optional; the only option is which one we will choose.  In other words, the question isn’t whether or not we are on a path, but rather which one we are on.  As Andy Stanley puts it, I’m not trying to get on a path in my finances . . . I’m on one already.  Same is true for our relationships, attitudes, fitness, and every other area of life.

This passage is a resounding reinforcement of this truth: “There is a path before each person that seems right, but it ends in death.”  Sounds kind of morbid, I know.  But don’t get caught up in the feeling of this passage; instead get caught up in the truth of it.  There is a path before each person . . . everyone from grannies to grocery store employees to prison inmates to pastors to destitute children living in trash heaps to doctors making six figures a year.  We all have paths.

It’s not a question of “if,” but of “which one.”  You’re not simply looking for a path to relationship; you’re on one!  You may have not met your future love yet, but they exist and your road is either leading you closer to them, or away from them.  You are on a path concerning your finances.  You are on a path concerning your relationship with God.  Even a heart of apathy, laziness, or a lack of concern is a path.

If I take Interstate Highway 40 East from Nashville, then I shouldn’t be surprised when I arrive in Knoxville.  Why?  Because that’s where the road leads to.  Such is true of every other part of life.  The road we are on is leading somewhere.

So, as this passage states, there are roads before us all that end in death.  Death of relationships.  Death of dreams.  Death of our bodies.  Death isn’t random as we assume it to be.  It takes us by surprise, but truth be told it is very predictable . . . the unpredictable part is when and where it will happen.  

We are all on a path that will eventually lead to physical death, but even that path can be drastically altered by our choices concerning fitness and health.  In other words, the journey towards death can take a different turn depending on which path we choose.

Concerning the death of the other things mentioned, it doesn’t necessarily have to happen every time like physical death– we have more choices.  That path that “seems right” is the one that we feel with our heart, yet may be the wrong choice.  That old heart can be deceptive, you know.  But he’s so cute!  Who cares if we don’t share the same spiritual maturity or even the same beliefs.  Ah, that’s a path that seems right at the outset, but will lead somewhere you don’t want to end up at.

It’s just one credit card!  Everyone else has them!  Again, the pathway to seemingly unrecoverable debt begins with a single step down the wrong path.

So, think about what paths you’re on and which ones you’d like to be on.  Remember that what seems like it could feel right doesn’t necessarily end where you want it to.  Get a map.  Ask directions.  Seek the wisdom of someone who has actually traveled a path you’d like to be on.