Happy Birthday Grandpa Roy!

We went to Missouri for the weekend to celebrate the 80th birthday of Daniel's Grandpa Roy. He told Daniel this weekend that he felt young until he turned 80; "Now I feel old!" He doesn't seem that way to us. He's left a legacy of faith for his entire family. I'm very grateful to him. Daniel's faith is, in part, the result of the faith of this man. Here's a picture (not from this weekend unfortunately! I didn't take many pictures.)

Also from the weekend:

Tim's first 4 wheeler ride (he was quite amused).

And a small photo shoot in the porch swing with the two little ones.

On Having a Child and Being a Child.

About a week ago, I was standing in the kitchen when I felt a faint tap on my rear end. I turned to find my three year old standing there with a spoon, sporting a mischievous grin.

"Ava, did you just spank me?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," she replied, unconcerned.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Because I love you!" came the reply.

Never mind that I most often tell her that I love her even though I am spanking her. She is right. I discipline her because I love her. Because I see the natural inclination of her heart, I cannot leave her to herself. God has entrusted to her to me to help illuminate her sin, to show her her heart, to call her to repentance, to remind her of (and model for her) the grace of God, and to pray earnestly that God would change her heart and grant her new birth. As precious as she is and as much good as I see in her, she is still fallen and in need of a Savior. It would not be loving of me to leave her without discipline and instruction. Because I love her, I seek her good, even when it's painful for both of us.

I feel privileged to have been called to this task. Every day, God is using me to teach her about Him and about herself. He is using me to call her unto himself. As I have begun to participate in this process though, God has impressed upon me the extent to which He is parenting me. He has given me a glimpse into His Father's heart for me, a foolish and rebellious child. Consider Hebrews 12:

³ Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. ⁴ In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. ⁵ And have you forgotten the exhortation that addresses you as sons?

"My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord,
nor be weary when reproved by him.
⁶ For the Lord disciplines the one he loves,
and chastises every son whom he receives."

⁷ It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? ⁸ If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons. ⁹ Besides this, we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them. Shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live? ¹⁰ For they disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness. ¹¹ For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

This has been a year of discipline. Simply having two kids pulling at my pant legs at all hours would have been enough to reveal much of the wickedness that still remains in my heart, but the difficulty of this season has gone far deeper than that. Life has been hard spiritually and emotionally. But the Lord has brought me to the point that I believe in my soul that as painful as this year has been (and it has been), that God has being using it all for my good and for his glory. He has been using it to show me the things that I love and rely on instead of Him. He is showing me my heart, illuminating my sin, calling me to repentance, cloaking me in His grace. Just like I do (albeit imperfectly) for Ava. Strangely enough, these trials are preaching to me the truth that I am His child. He loves me too much to leave me in the sin that seeks to kill and destroy; He is leading me to Himself and into joy. Because He's a good Dad.

15 months

Sometimes I look at you and think that you are still so little--so dependent on me, so cuddly. You still look like a baby. But then other times, when I see new babies that are tinier than you ever were, I'm struck by how grown up you seem.

This is a fun age. You still love me with an intensity only matched by your Daddy's love for me, though he has more restraint. You are very sweet; you giggle all the time, you cuddle into my neck, you climb up and sit in my lap. Not much defiance has surfaced thus far, though you have been known to try to push your sister out of my lap. You also have a penchant for yelling at me when you want something; while not shrill, it is piercing. You are nothing if not passionate.

Your second love is food. Nothing can induce said screams like me not feeding you quickly enough for your liking. We were recently at a restaurant, and the menu amused you to no end. You kept pointing at each picture, giggling, and squealing. When the waitress came, you attempted to order a margarita.

You still have very few words, really. You use "da" for a lot, but you seem to know it is specifically used for Daddy. You call me Mama when you want something (mostly food). Still, you are very expressive and communicative. And when you can't communicate what it is you want, you yell that piercing yell that makes Mama move at warp speed, offering crackers, water, and M&Ms; whatever it takes to make it stop. You also let us know where you want to go by pointing and grunting. It's pretty effective.

Perhaps this is why you refuse to walk. You are certainly strong enough and have enough balance to stand ad infinitum, but whenever Daddy tries to make you walk by holding your hands and guiding you across the room, you scream bloody murder. You weigh over 25 lbs. Mama's tired of carrying you all the time. It's time already.

But other than the fact that you don't walk and you don't talk, you're really smart. You seem to have a gift for putting things together. I'm sure that pretty soon we'll see the inverse of that, and you'll start taking things apart. You also really enjoy pretend play. Your sister has taught you to pretend to eat and to pretend to accept pretend objects. I play along too, which amuses you greatly.

Oh, how I love having you in my life, little man. You find so much joy in everything and you give so much joy to so many people (excepting the nursery workers and your doctor, who have yet to see your sweet side). I love you so much.

Mama

Strawberry Fields

Daniel just got home from India--he was gone for almost 3 weeks, and missed celebrating Father's Day. So we took yesterday as a family day drove to Lake Geneva, WI for a picnic, then up to Elkhorn for strawberry picking. Delightful summer day. And we were all together. Bliss.

Picnic

"So what you're telling me is..."

"We're going on a strawberry hunt. We're going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We're not scared!" (Actually heard Ava singing this to herself).

Cutie

Roaming down the rows. Eating strawberries as he goes.

"There's food everywhere! Best. Activity. Ever."

#1 Strawberry picker. Picked the biggest two of the day.

This is when I knocked over the box. After Ava stepped in it.

Beaucoup strawberries (That's French for a lot. Everything in French sounds fancy.)

Paris

We found out a few months ago that Daniel would have to travel to India again over his 30th birthday. This just didn't sit well with me; it's been a rough year in a number of ways. Having to spend such a monumental birthday alone just didn't seem right. I began plotting to meet him in India, until someone mentioned meeting halfway. In Paris. Seemed wiser--no hundred plus degree heat, monsoons, risk of malaria or dysentery. Daniel's mom very graciously agreed to keep the kids for four days so we could have a little getaway (They did fine, but she was happy to see me on Monday!).

Can't tell you how much fun we had. It was restorative for our spirits and our marriage. We had fun exploring, walking everywhere, eating french bread, taking naps, trying new foods. A beautiful, beautiful weekend. We are so blessed.

Our first night out--walked to the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomph. Saw a disco bus with people dancing under ultraviolet light. Ah, Paris.

The Champs Elysees
Notre Dame



The little market we found in the Latin Quarter. Favorite.

Who's gluten free? Not me....

Pont Neuf--I think.

Hotel des Invalides.

At the Musee Rodin.

The Thinker

A little home away from home

Picnic at the Eiffel Tower for dinner--cheese and bread and raspberries.

The Louvre--Saw it's first lady, the Mona Lisa, took a really bad picture of her. If you want to know what she looks like, here you go. We also saw the Venus de Milo (but I'll spare you the nudity) and the Winged Victory of Samothrace (which is actually really cool, but I didn't take a picture).

I think statues are my favorite kind of art.

To the Father of my Children,

I knew you would be a wonderful Daddy. One of my most vivid memories of the night you proposed is walking across that bridge in Austin, dreaming of our children and our children's children. I was thankful to know that you didn't just love me then, when our romantic feelings did not have to be accompanied by sacrifice, but were looking forward to all of the blessings that marriage would bring.

We couldn't have imagined the blessing they would be, could we? Ava, with her giggles, her sass and her precociousness, her fiery curls and personality to match. Timothy, with his giggles and his sweetness, his big brown eyes and mischievous grin. Our Heavenly Father gives us good gifts.

And He has given them a good gift in you. I see how you delight in Ava, how you ferociously guard your times snuggling with her before bed. You take her on dates, listen to her, teach her about Jesus Christ and his gospel as you teach and discipline her, and just have fun with her. She will grow up knowing that you love and cherish her. That is so important for a little girl. I love seeing you give her what I was given.

I see how you play with Timmy--laugh with him, toss him around, wrestle. I enjoyed watching him play as you installed our dishwasher; I'm looking forward to watching him follow you around with tools in the years to come. From you, I know he'll learn what is to be a godly man--full of integrity, wisdom, a gentle strength, and a love for his Savior. I want him to be like you.

Most of all, love, I am thankful that when our kids encounter the truth that God is their Heavenly Father, they will have an earthly example pointing to the Higher Truth. They will know gracious, protective, faithful, unbreaking love, because they have seen it in you.

I love you more than I can express. So do they.

And though you're thousands of miles away, Happy Father's Day.

Jilly

A Father's Day Tale

(Fair warning: do not read at meal times or if you have a weak stomach)

Today I sit alone on the wrong side of the world. But I was not alone two years ago on Father’s Day.

Jill, Ava, and I had arrived the previous evening at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, a few days into our epic road trip across the American West. We drove towards the chasm in the late afternoon, when the sun’s rays shine at that perfect angle and life is all radiance. Arriving just before the sun sank over the horizon, we saw the canyon’s grandeur in the light of an impressive sunset, and all was right with the world.

When the light left, we found our hotel in nearby Tusayan and proceeded to seek sustenance. There were very few options between fast food and overpriced steak, so we settled for a middle-priced buffet at a neighboring hotel, the Best Western Country Squire. The food was third-rate. Jill had the shrimp.

The next morning, Father’s Day, I awoke to the sound of Jill becoming sick in the hotel bathroom. The next few hours saw no improvement in her condition, although Ava was her normal bubbly self. Check-out time approached, and Jill was still near-comatose on the bed. Then came a knock at the door and an overweight middle-aged man appeared, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he informed us that we had to leave. He accepted no excuses, and so, thinking that Jill could lay in the car as well as she could lay here, I helped her as far as the hotel side exit, where she lost more of the previous evening’s meal.

Incensed at the behavior of the hotel employee, I carried Jill as far as the car, then stormed the front desk, not leaving until the room was comped and a hotel stay was arranged at a different hotel for that evening (it was clear by this time that we would not be hours down the road by dusk). Jill thought she was a little better, and so we moseyed up the road to the Rim, where I left Jill nursing a Gatorade while Ava and I took in the views.

It was only a few minutes before I got a call. “Come” was the only word spoken, and I obeyed. I found Jill slumped at the curb, her Gatorade on the pavement. At this point I knew I had been foolish for pressing ahead with the sightseeing and corrected course toward the emergency clinic.

After the obligatory wait and some form-filling, they took Jill to a little room, leaving me with Ava. Some time later they called me back to visit Jill. She was propped up in bed, sipping ice chips, and seemed fine although a little weak. I was asked to help move her to a sitting position, which I did, and as we did so, she became limp and slumped down, seeming to me stop breathing. I did not know how to react, and the extreme calm of the doctor did little to assure me that there was not something very wrong. In the moment, the thought struck me that Jill was dying. Everything moved in slow motion and the doctor’s assurances were unheard, as though I were deaf. In the next few moments, I did nothing rash, no doubt frozen. And then Jill came to, and my world started turning again.

Once my pulse receded to its normal rate and my ears opened and I knew that Jill was okay for the moment, I realized that the nurses who had kindly agreed to watch Ava for a moment probably needed relief. I made sure Jill was comfortable and truly alive, then headed out with a still-healthy Ava to grab some food, for somehow it had gotten to be mid-afternoon and neither of us had eaten a thing yet that day. We found the nearby McDonalds, and just as I pulled away from the drive-through, I looked back and my heart sank: Ava was losing her entire evening meal all over herself and her brand-new carseat. I did what any young dad would do: I panicked. At least internally. Ava was crying in a manner that told me exactly how bad she felt. I had nothing with me to clean up the very large mess other than a few baby wipes. I was alone with her among strangers, who all seemed to be rapidly walking away. I briefly thought of yelling for help, but nixed that idea; I thought of going inside to grab paper towels, but couldn’t because I would have had to leave Ava alone. So I simply pulled her out of her seat, took off her sodden clothes, and cleaned her up as best I could. A small miracle appeared in the form of her old car seat, still in the back of the van. I installed it, installed another outfit on her, dropped her in the seat, and headed back to the clinic.

No sooner had we hit the road then I once again looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that same awful sight. Ava had actually not emptied her stomach earlier and was finishing the job fully, this time in the other car seat. There was little to do besides hurry to the clinic and beg for help there. Our second patient was graciously accepted by the kind nurses, who no doubt recognized the panic and confusion on my face. A few minutes later she was comfortably resting in a room near her sleeping mother.

Knowing they were both well-cared for at the moment, I devoted the next hour to disassembling both car seats completely and washing them out. As it happens, the only sink available was in the emergency room of the clinic, so that’s where I was. Before the job was finished, Jill had joined me in the room, still in a semi-comatose state, her condition having not improved dramatically despite the four liters of fluid they had injected into her. Soon the staff was speaking in low voices to me about a possible ambulance trip to the nearest hospital, and I was making frantic calls to our insurance company trying to determine if that would steal our house downpayment. Thankfully, Jill rallied enough to qualify for parole just before closing time, and she leaned on me heavily as we staggered to the car.

That night in the hotel room, Jill had energy enough only to moan once in a while from the bed. Ava, on the other hand, had made a miraculous recovery and was dashing about the room in very high spirits. The only remnant of her sickness was the occasional pause followed by a dramatic dirtying of her diaper, the likes of which I have not seen before or since. Amongst all the day’s unpleasantness, the moment I came nearest to joining the festivities was on the changing of that diaper. But grace was sufficient and I finished the job with only olfactory discomfort.

Not too long later, both of them were sound asleep and I was wearily eating my first food of the day: an eight-hour-old McDonalds Southern-style chicken sandwich. I ate it with as much thanksgiving as I have any meal, watching my girls, thankful that they were alive and with me.

Skit Night

So, we did a skit night on vacation. And it was fun. Here's some videos.

Ode to Horn Creek

Psalm 121



Old Time Photos



Anything You Can Do



Who is the new leader of China?



Texas Facts



I Like to Move It, Move It.




Night at the Museum



Timmy's Standup Routine




There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea



Night at the Museum, Part 2



If I had a Million Dollars

This Clan is Your Clan



After Party

My family is fun. The end.

Crickets

If it has seemed a little quiet around here, it's because we were on vacation last week. We went to Pagosa Springs, CO and did lots of hiking, driving, and star gazing (okay, we went one night, but we saw lots). Colorado was where Daniel and I fell in love, and we still do have a deep affection for its big skies, its mountains, its general grandness. Here's some pics from the trip.

Daddy and Tim

Where Ava could be found most of the week.

Pack mules

Ice Caves

Playing King of the Hill with Daniel. I lost.

San Juan Mountains? I think?

Durango-Silverton Train

Aspens. I love aspens.

Family Photo.

5 months of winter and she still wants to play in the snow. Must be related to Daniel.