Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Desert Photos
Took the kids out romping in the desert today. We mostly stayed in the truck, but I did snap a few shots. Here they are...
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Layla Grace
I just read a blog about a little two-year-old girl that died earlier this month from neuroblastoma, an aggressive form of childhood cancer. Her name is Layla and she was absolutely beautiful.
Layla's death was slow and agonizing, an allergy to morphine making it difficult to manage her pain effectively. For her last several weeks of life, her parents brought her home to make her as comfortable as possible. Day and night, they watched their daughter deteriorate before their eyes. Watched as she grew too weak to eat, drink, speak, or move.
They lived through every parent's worst nightmare, lived through the wretched suffering of their little girl. They understood what it meant to be impotent, utterly helpless.
But not hopeless.
Until the very end, these people prayed for a miracle. They never lost their faith, but grew in it, depended on it. Even when they cried out in anger and grief, it was still to the Almighty God. And now they know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that little Layla Grace is being cradled in the gentle arms of her Savior.
Reading Layla's story has been an awakening for me. How easy it is to get caught up in this life, to become fixated on the trivial, the temporal.
I was worried about money a few weeks ago while a baby girl lay dying in her parent's arms. I was stressing over laundry while she struggled and failed to raise her head. I was yelling at my kids while she was crying out in agony. I was fighting, lying, coveting and gossiping. I was jealous, frustrated, short-tempered and ungrateful. All while this little angel took her final shuddering breaths and closed her tired eyes.
I am so ashamed. And so humbled by this child's life, her courage. I am awed at a faith that I can't even begin to imagine, a faith that her parent's found strength in. Strength to see them through what must have been the most difficult ordeal of their lives. Of anyone's life.
I want a faith like that. I want a faith that is more than an idea, more than a belief.
More than a lifestyle.
I want a faith that is all-consuming, overpowering, breathtaking. I want Jesus to be more than a vending machine, more than a friend. I want to be made low so I can see how big He is.
I looked at my children tonight and really saw them. I saw their arms and legs, fingers and toes. I saw skin that was clear, heard breath that was easy, stroked hair that was soft and full.
Tomorrow, they will play together, fight together and make huge messes together. Tomorrow they will be normal, healthy children.
Layla's mom is still finding her daughter's clothes in the laundry, seeing her toys scattered about the house. Layla's mom is wishing for just one more minute of time with her daughter, wishing for one more tantrum, one more chance to comfort. One more smile.
What a privilege it is to watch my children grow. What a blessing to see the laundry continue to pile up day after day, to see those toys get played with and spread all over creation in a matter of seconds.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for my children. Thank you for their health, their happiness. Thank you for the messes and the tantrums, for the sloppy kisses and the accidental head-bonks. Thank you for the gift, the blessing of having one more day with them. One more day that not everyone gets.
Please help me to cherish Luke and Evie, Father. Remind me every day of your grace, your majesty, your goodness. Give me new eyes to see, new ears to listen. Help me to appreciate this blessed life, not search for the injustice in it. Humble me, Lord. Use me. Renew me.
Make me Yours.
Amen.
____________
Layla's death was slow and agonizing, an allergy to morphine making it difficult to manage her pain effectively. For her last several weeks of life, her parents brought her home to make her as comfortable as possible. Day and night, they watched their daughter deteriorate before their eyes. Watched as she grew too weak to eat, drink, speak, or move.
They lived through every parent's worst nightmare, lived through the wretched suffering of their little girl. They understood what it meant to be impotent, utterly helpless.
But not hopeless.
Until the very end, these people prayed for a miracle. They never lost their faith, but grew in it, depended on it. Even when they cried out in anger and grief, it was still to the Almighty God. And now they know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that little Layla Grace is being cradled in the gentle arms of her Savior.
Reading Layla's story has been an awakening for me. How easy it is to get caught up in this life, to become fixated on the trivial, the temporal.
I was worried about money a few weeks ago while a baby girl lay dying in her parent's arms. I was stressing over laundry while she struggled and failed to raise her head. I was yelling at my kids while she was crying out in agony. I was fighting, lying, coveting and gossiping. I was jealous, frustrated, short-tempered and ungrateful. All while this little angel took her final shuddering breaths and closed her tired eyes.
I am so ashamed. And so humbled by this child's life, her courage. I am awed at a faith that I can't even begin to imagine, a faith that her parent's found strength in. Strength to see them through what must have been the most difficult ordeal of their lives. Of anyone's life.
I want a faith like that. I want a faith that is more than an idea, more than a belief.
More than a lifestyle.
I want a faith that is all-consuming, overpowering, breathtaking. I want Jesus to be more than a vending machine, more than a friend. I want to be made low so I can see how big He is.
I looked at my children tonight and really saw them. I saw their arms and legs, fingers and toes. I saw skin that was clear, heard breath that was easy, stroked hair that was soft and full.
Tomorrow, they will play together, fight together and make huge messes together. Tomorrow they will be normal, healthy children.
Layla's mom is still finding her daughter's clothes in the laundry, seeing her toys scattered about the house. Layla's mom is wishing for just one more minute of time with her daughter, wishing for one more tantrum, one more chance to comfort. One more smile.
What a privilege it is to watch my children grow. What a blessing to see the laundry continue to pile up day after day, to see those toys get played with and spread all over creation in a matter of seconds.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for my children. Thank you for their health, their happiness. Thank you for the messes and the tantrums, for the sloppy kisses and the accidental head-bonks. Thank you for the gift, the blessing of having one more day with them. One more day that not everyone gets.
Please help me to cherish Luke and Evie, Father. Remind me every day of your grace, your majesty, your goodness. Give me new eyes to see, new ears to listen. Help me to appreciate this blessed life, not search for the injustice in it. Humble me, Lord. Use me. Renew me.
Make me Yours.
Amen.
____________
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Two for one
Luke was in bed tonight, cuddling with his stuffed sheep. Chris was tucking him in...
"Daddy, I love my sheep."
"I like your sheep too, Luke."
"Does Jesus love sheep?"
"Yes, and Jesus loves you too."
"Jesus takes care of me, and I take care of my sheep."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Does Jesus love babies?"
"Yes, He loves all the babies."
"Does Jesus have little Jesus babies?"
....
......
".......No, Jesus doesn't have babies, but He makes the babies. He made you when you were a baby and gave you to mommy and daddy."
And so, Chris got presented with the first Quick Thinking Award of 2010.
Which almost made up for the conversation he had with Luke about 30 minutes earlier...
Mythbusters was on and they were laying out some raw chickens (heads and feet still attached) on a tanning booth to see if they would actually start to cook after prolonged exposure. Which they didn't, incidentally.
Now, Luke has seen me carve a whole chicken before. And of course, he has seen actual, live chickens. But what Luke hasn't seen is a raw chicken (that he associates with food) looking quite so much like a live chicken (that he associates with farms and petting zoos and various animated features).
"Those chickens are dead?"
"Yes, Luke, they're dead."
"We eat 'em?"
"Yes, we eat them."
"We don't eat chickens!"
"Yes we do. Chicken sandwich, chicken nuggets..."
"No! Chickens are nice! Chickens are animals!"
Chris looks to me for help, but I just arch a brow...expecting him to come up with something clever to get out of the hole he dug and calm our now visibly upset four year old.
Instead, I hear:
"Well, Luke...sometimes, we eat animals..."
"NO!" I'm screaming from across the room before I can stop myself, and both of them look up at me in shock. I give Chris a significant look and he silently acknowledges that perhaps Luke is a little too young to be able to accept this concept with anything less than pure, unadulterated horror.
Besides, chicken is a major staple in this house and we'd be in trouble if the kids suddenly refused to eat the stuff.
Fortunately, Luke let the subject drop there.
Thank God for miracles, great and small.
________
"Daddy, I love my sheep."
"I like your sheep too, Luke."
"Does Jesus love sheep?"
"Yes, and Jesus loves you too."
"Jesus takes care of me, and I take care of my sheep."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Does Jesus love babies?"
"Yes, He loves all the babies."
"Does Jesus have little Jesus babies?"
....
......
".......No, Jesus doesn't have babies, but He makes the babies. He made you when you were a baby and gave you to mommy and daddy."
And so, Chris got presented with the first Quick Thinking Award of 2010.
Which almost made up for the conversation he had with Luke about 30 minutes earlier...
Mythbusters was on and they were laying out some raw chickens (heads and feet still attached) on a tanning booth to see if they would actually start to cook after prolonged exposure. Which they didn't, incidentally.
Now, Luke has seen me carve a whole chicken before. And of course, he has seen actual, live chickens. But what Luke hasn't seen is a raw chicken (that he associates with food) looking quite so much like a live chicken (that he associates with farms and petting zoos and various animated features).
"Those chickens are dead?"
"Yes, Luke, they're dead."
"We eat 'em?"
"Yes, we eat them."
"We don't eat chickens!"
"Yes we do. Chicken sandwich, chicken nuggets..."
"No! Chickens are nice! Chickens are animals!"
Chris looks to me for help, but I just arch a brow...expecting him to come up with something clever to get out of the hole he dug and calm our now visibly upset four year old.
Instead, I hear:
"Well, Luke...sometimes, we eat animals..."
"NO!" I'm screaming from across the room before I can stop myself, and both of them look up at me in shock. I give Chris a significant look and he silently acknowledges that perhaps Luke is a little too young to be able to accept this concept with anything less than pure, unadulterated horror.
Besides, chicken is a major staple in this house and we'd be in trouble if the kids suddenly refused to eat the stuff.
Fortunately, Luke let the subject drop there.
Thank God for miracles, great and small.
________