A Birthday Boy and Lessons From God

As of 7:01 am it's a Happy birthday to the sweetest 8 year old boy in the whole wide world. It took a castor oil cocktail to get him out, but it worked. Sometimes I wish I would have let him camp out in my uterus a little longer so he could stay younger for at least another week. I know, it's all psychological, but I wish I could just freeze time right now... for many reasons.

I never knew how sweet and cute a little boy could be until I laid eyes on him. I had no idea how much a boy could love and show love until he grew and turned into the boy his is today. 

Jack routinely pops into our bed after everyone else is tucked in just to talk for a few minutes. He tells me how much he loves to talk to me at night. It's funny because I used to do the same to my mom. I talked about which boy I thought was so cute, or about getting a pony or talking about how awesome Heaven would be. Jack talks about the latest animal documentary he's watched, or the latest intriguing Bible story he's read. He's especially amazed that God could choose a little boy his age to be a king.

When I am having the worst days, he finds me just to pray with me. He wraps his little adventurous hands around mine and prays. He always thanks God first and then tells God of our needs. I am always amazed at the depth of spirit of such a little boy.

Sometimes I worried that he could literally spend hours filling the front grill of the minivan with pea gravel or poke sticks at the wheels. By age 4, he got a hold of my little power drill and changed the bit to a phillips head screw driver so that he could disassemble and reassemble the door knobs. Last year when Ava wanted to learn how to ride with no training wheels, he walked through the living room with a variety of wrenches. About a half hour later, the training wheels were off. He's like a little miniature of his dad.

Yesterday, Jack and Gabriel were riding around the first floor. Gabriel has a battery powered four wheeler. Jack was riding a tricycle behind him. I had the basement door shut, but somewhere in the busyness, it was opened and left ajar. Gabriel has recently developed a fear of descending steps but yesterday, he went right for them. We heard Jack scream "STOP GABRIEL!!! STOP!!!" Jack ran after him. It was too late. Amos ran. I was oblivious as we had been working all morning on insurance issues and hospital bills. It was pure stress. Nothing compared to what we saw next. 

Gabriel had tumbled end over end down the basement steps. He was limp. His eyes rolled back in his head. Amos was screaming his name. I called 911. The dispatcher could get nothing out of me because all I could do was say "OH MY GOD, HELP!" over and over again. I kept looking for blood in Gabriel's ears. Nothing. His nose was bleeding, but no blood in his ears. Amos ran out the door and headed to Children's. Jack grabbed his shoes and jumped into the van. He wasn't going let his brother go alone. For a few hellish moments, we thought we were going to lose Gabriel. I dropped on my knees and just prayed. I just kept crying "Oh! MY GOD! MY GOD! Please help Gabriel!" "Why did you let us keep him for almost three years just to take him now?!"

Pretty soon, they returned. Other than a few bruises, Gabriel is okay. He is having a tough time breathing through his nose because of the swelling. I'm so thankful for the carpeted steps. I'm so thankful for God's protective hand on him. I'm so thankful that Gabriel soon requested french fries and to resume his game of chase on the four wheeler. We knew then that he was his little defiant, stubborn and sweet self again. And even though we all walked around in a weepy daze yesterday, we had once again learned how fleeting life is and how uncertain is every single day on this earth.

It was a ripple effect through the family. Our hearts were torn over Jack's reaction because he blamed himself for not stopping Gabriel in time. Amos held him in his arms and told him over and over again that he was doing more than we could ask; being a great big brother to Gabriel. Playing with him and always finding something that they can both do together. 

Just last week, Jack was lugging Gabriel in his arms. I watched as he lovingly carried his brother up the hill in our back yard to the house. Not an easy task, even for me. I watched as Jack kissed Gabriel's cheeks and forehead all the way. So sweet and cheerful... until he tripped and fell. They tumbled. Gabriel took an angry swing at Jack when the dust settled. Jack was crying because he was worried about Gabriel, plus he bumped his knee. They were both fine. They hugged and kissed. Best buddies as usual. 

Thank God for the gift of these children. For the lessons we learn about God through being parents. For the endless and sometimes irritating chatter and arguments in the back seat of the van. For the noisiness around our kitchen table. For sticky hand rails and toilet paper on the ceilings. For tripping on toys in the dark. For late night chats even when I just want to stare at the back of my eyelids. For buckets full of snakes and toads and turtles. For jars of butterflies and my good pillowcase holding a bird. For wondering if that chipmunk or mouse or snake is going to give my son rabies after they bite him. 

God is wise to give us cute helpless looking babies. If they came out at any other stage of life, I'm convinced nobody would want to be parents. If we knew the heart ache we'd face, I'm not sure any of us would take it on. We truly never know what a day will hold for us. Each of our children has had one or more near death experiences and you wonder how anyone can possibly stay alive. And sometimes those we love don't get to stay alive for as long as we'd like.

People like to say "God will never give you more than you can handle." That's not true. We live in a fallen world. We are routinely allowed to experience things too great for us. That's the whole point. We want to give our burdens to someone who can carry the burden for us. That's how we are drawn to God and His awesome power. 

That verse, by the way, is pertaining to temptation. God will provide a way of escape. ESCAPE. Think about that word. Again. ESCAPE. To draw a parallel, my dad and his brothers escaped from war. Forever changed. Forever scarred. Nonetheless, they PURSUED and found freedom. They didn't just magically end up here. It was life threatening all the way here. They made it to America. A place completely foreign and somewhere that could only exist in their imaginations until that point. On earth, we aren't just going to be delivered from trials just because we misuse a Bible verse. Sometimes the escape process is painful and leaves deep scars. Sometimes it's harrowing. However, we escape to a refuge in Jesus Christ. 

To be real honest, I didn't believe that with all my heart until this current trial. God used a program on the radio called "Unshackled" to change my mind and my heart. I had been on something like a spiritual Weight Watchers diet. You know, keeping track of points but wondering why I wasn't seeing any benefits. When it all "hits the fan" and you start listing off all the ways you thought you'd been faithful to God and all the while wondering how on earth he could let this happen to you. I'd only been faithful to my own desires and lusts for this world. I have routinely white washed my tomb. I have shamed the name of Jesus over and over again through my own selfish and sinful life. I have maintained my "form of godliness but denied the power of God." I truly believe in my heart now that the only righteousness that I claim is through Jesus Christ. Just as God passed over the Hebrews in Egypt when he saw the blood on the door posts, he sees the same when he looks at me. Before Jesus, I was a non believer with no protective covering. Just huddling like a terrified heap as death came to my door. I'm still a quivering heap of sin, but God provided a way for me to be acceptable to him. He made the perfect sacrifice so that he could bring me to him. He made himself suffer so that ultimately, we can be free. God becomes real in trials. Our culture teaches us that we can usually buy our way out of trouble or somehow fix problems that we face. How untrue. We can never be healed until we treat the sickness instead of the symptoms of sin. 

If you believe nothing in the Bible, but are open minded, give Jesus a try. What have you got to lose? If you believe you're a believer, (like me) God will reveal to you the depth or lack of your faith. Cling to the word of God. Don't just read books about God or human perceptions of God. Read the book written BY GOD. The Bible. It's a mirror. The ugliness you will see will startle and offend you. Don't stop looking though. Let God give you a makeover, and don't be discouraged by the fact that it won't be complete until we meet him face to face and are made perfect in eternity.

So... happy birthday to Jack. Thank You God for another year with our precious boy and for the lessons you've taught us. Thank you for the harrowing and painful experiences of life to draw us out of our delusion of our culture of wealth and prosperity. Thank God for His perfect gift Jesus Christ. Our refuge and our strength.

Ring the Bells

Gabriel and I went grocery shopping. I found a great little battery-operated four-wheeler at Wal-Mart. Gabriel of course picked out the red one since that’s what color Amos has. I have just wanted something for him to be able to keep up with the other kids outside. So, we picked the red quad and off we went. I set it in the grocery cart and set Gabriel on top. Every time I pushed the cart into motion, Gabriel rode like the wind. He would hold the handlebars and stand up just like Amos does. He soaked up all the female attention he could get and he reveled in all his male coolness. It doesn’t matter what size the wheels are, guys think they’re pretty cool when they’ve got new ones. It was a shopping trip that I didn’t want to end. Gabriel was so content. It was incredible.

We stopped in at Buehler’s on the way home. On the way in, I noticed my favorite Salvation Army bell ringer. A tiny frail woman all bundled up in a blue jacked and a red scarf wrapped around her head. Her weathered skin says she’s in her eighties or nineties but her eyes remain as clear and sharp as in her youth. Cool and blue, they jump out at you as if to remind you that she knows a thing or two and doesn’t spend her spare time baking cookies. I am always intrigued by the bell-ringers. They give up hours of time to sit in the cold on a hard chair. Your first thought may be that they’re retired and have nothing better to do. They could be playing euchre or bridge somewhere. But, they’re not. They care about something so deeply that they pull themselves out of comfort to sit in the cold for weeks on end. Quite frankly, it amazes me.

We bought our milk and on the way out, Gabriel got Ms. Salvation-Army-Volunteer’s attention. No surprise there. We quickly learned that she has a keen eye for handsome men. I mean, even in her 90’s she’s a girl who can’t resist cute. So began our conversation. I didn’t think any exchange would last long. Then again, I hadn’t counted on such openness and depth. Eventually, I pulled up a chair and settled in. It’s a conversation I’ll never forget.

From the moment I saw her, I painted a mental picture of her in my mind that looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. You know, pearl earrings coiffed hair and a stylish dress draped over with a chic apron. In my mind’s eye, she’s holding a plate of fresh baked cookies and a platter of ham and potatoes sits on the table in the background. She’s smiling contentedly while fresh and clean Dick and Jane and Sally wait for father. It sounds far fetched, but once she started unfolding her life’s story to me, I realized that I probably wasn’t too far off.

She started by describing her controlling and jealous husband whom she feared. Nonetheless, she loved him and said that she stayed because she didn’t want to hurt her children. She recounted the way she would watch for him at the window and tried to have everything just as he wanted when he came in. “I tried to obey him.” She said. She recounted how she went to counseling without him because he didn’t want to go. She was desperate to make it better. It never came.

After she talked about her marriage, she naturally moved on to her three children. “I had two girls and a boy. “ she began. Something about the way she said “had” two girls and a boy gave me a sick feeling, but I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and just figured she was just using past tense. She told me that one of her daughters had an abusive husband. The old woman’s time worn face suddenly grimaced. Her eyes were stark and cool. They were still young and crisp and showed the pain she still felt for her daughter. “She took her own life.” She told me. “She pulled into her garage one day after work before the kids came home from school. She never turned off the car... The kids found her.” Her face twisted in pain, her eyes became red as she tried to stop her tears. “She didn’t know how much she hurt her mother, her sister and brother, her children…” Her voice broke. “What a selfish thing to do,” she said. “But her pain must have been so bad that I couldn’t even understand.” At that moment, I wanted to pick her up and hold her like a little child. I just wanted to comfort her. She actually comforted me. Despite her deep pain, joy returned to her countenance. You see, she puts her hope in Jesus Christ. She knows that one day soon, Jesus will pick her up and restore her. He will wipe away all her tears.

Hurried shoppers continued to pass through the cold corridor during our exchange. She would pause during the most painful parts of her story just to tell complete strangers that Jesus loves them. “I should be more bold” she said, “I don’t know why I’m not, but I don’t want to shout at people.” For what it’s worth, I thought she was bold.

Mostly, people just ignored her. Which is probably why she said some pretty funny things as they passed. A fifty-ish ruggedly handsome man dropped some coins in her red, worn tin. “Thank you,” she called after him. “Jesus loves you… handsome.” A businesswoman in a sharp suit also passed through “Merry Christmas! Jesus loves you.” Then she added, “don’t you look pretty.” I could hardly stop myself from laughing.

One minute I wanted to laugh and the next I wanted to cry. She went back to her story and all the pain returned to her face. She told me about her grand daughter that lives with her. “She got mixed up in drugs and had a baby. They live in my basement… sometimes a lot of her friends live with me too and I feel like I’m running a homeless shelter, but I’m glad they’re with me and not out on the street.” Just when I think this woman could not possibly endure any more she added, “I was adopted and I figure that if people loved me enough to take me in and change my life, I ought to do the same for others.” I was kind of amazed that she opened up to me. Sometimes I feel like the young and older generations sort of just disregard each other respectively. Like we just assume the other party is completely clueless or disinterested, so we just remain disconnected. God taught me a lot of lessons during this encounter and He used her faith to strengthen mine. She has suffered so greatly and still works joyfully for God. Which is to lovingly serve others.