Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

I've been surprised by the response of people as they hear about our baby.  It's a different kind of situation.  One most people don't ever go through themselves or alongside friends.  People constantly want to know how we are doing or they don't ask at all.  Both are fine, neither is wrong or right.  I appreciate those who want to know.  I appreciate those who allow us to live life as normal.  It's actually a good balance.

Two responses that stand out to me have been 1. when people say we're brave, and 2. when people say why you guys again?

To the first, it makes me laugh because I don't entirely know what people mean when they say this. Bravery to me is facing something you're scared of, it's a choice you make and we certainly didn't choose this, we just keep moving forward.  We love this baby whether he is born "normal" or healthy or not, whether he is born alive at all.  He is ours.  God has graciously bestowed another soul on us to parent whether only from the womb or beyond.  To us there is no choice.  And it is ironic because "a choice" was the first thing we were offered by our doctor upon Baby's initial diagnosis (missing part of his leg, cystic areas in his intestines - both together point to more problems to come; we are not hopeful he'll survive to term). Quickly we told the doctor that no we don't have that choice.  She was a bit taken aback but has been very compassionate and happy to oblige us.  Maybe people mean that we are brave to tell of baby's problems at all.  But this confuses me because why hide it?  If he is born alive, any problems will be apparent, and if God chooses to heal him, more glory to God the more people know!   And in the mean time,  let's pray for a miracle!

To the second response, the Lord has given me so much peace in this area right away.  My theology is not that each human gets his equal share of suffering.  That is more than obvious when you look at all of the starving children around the world.  But I do think that in first world countries we still tend to hang onto this false hope.  We lost our first baby, so the rest are safe.  God won't cause us to suffer anymore than he already has.  It's someone else's turn. No.  God doesn't dole out suffering in equal measure.  He does it specifically, individually for our sanctification. For our GOOD.  I believe that.  I am not mad at Him.  I know it is for my good, for our family's good, and ultimately for this baby's good to be enduring this trial and that God is using it to make us more ready for Heaven.  To make us more like Him.  To make us more ready for Him.  And His nearness is our good. So while we don't invite or ask for suffering, we count it as joy and pray that it produces steadfastness in us.

Right now, we are walking proof that God does grant peace that passes understanding.  We are not anxious, we are hopeful.

We have Hope.

Do you?

Therefore since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through Him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put is to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Romans 5:1-5

I hope I'm not painting this perfect picture like we are doing things all right.  It's hard.  It hurts. But we have a Savior who knows our hurt and will redeem our hurt.  All we know now is that this baby has been fearfully and wonderfully made, and God has a plan for him.

For you formed my inward parts;

    you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

14 

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.[a]

Wonderful are your works;

    my soul knows it very well.

15 

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

16 

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

    the days that were formed for me,

    when as yet there was none of them.

Psalm 139:13-16

Homage to Hummus

Seth is a full contact eater.  I LOVE watching him eat.  Cleaning him up afterwards is a different story.

During meal times, we have been working on baby sign language inspired by my sis-in-law who did this with her girls and put in to practice thanks to Andrej and Sarah who loaned us some how-to DVDs. Seth loves "Signing Time with Alex and Leah" and has become a pro at:

"All done"

"More"

"Milk"

And by pro I mean, Taylor and I and sometimes Sarah understand him.

We are currently working on please and thank you, but he can basically say please already so he just says it (sometimes) instead. "Pees!"

My one beef so far with American sign language is "all done."  Food caked hands encouraged to go near clean hair = bad idea jeans.

Seth's new favorite food is hummus.  Encouraged by my friend, Kara, to give it to him in a bowl so that he can practice using a spoon, I gathered up my courage and tried it yesterday.  Finally.  (She told me about this back in April.) I had been wrestling through it because:

A) I didn't want to "spoon feed" Seth too long so I knew it needed to be tried soon, but...

B) I didn't want to clean up a huge mess

I don't know about the rest of you moms out there, but isn't this a central struggle in child-rearing -  doing what's easy over what's best?  Now,  I realize that letting Seth practice using a spoon is hardly a big character building exercise for him, but I was surprised to find that it was for me.  I like control.  I like things my way.  I like to avoid doing things that I don't like to do (ie cleaning the already clean kitchen floor, again.) But the Lord has gently been teaching me to let go (read Susannah's amazing post on letting go here)  and not be afraid of the mess.

So as I contemplated handing over the literal and proverbial spoon (and bowl - the major source of potential mess making), I realized that the decision was about choosing what is easier in the short run for me or what is better in the long run for Seth.  I mean, I can't send him to school one day without being able to use utensils, right? I'm so thankful to the Lord that He helps us with the letting go of control in little ways so that when I have to really let go 17 years from now when he heads off to college, I've had some {heart} practice.  I want to be a good mom and being a good mom doesn't mean doing everything for him his whole life especially when it's done out of avoiding a potential (or even probable) mess for me.  And right now, it's time for him to learn to use a spoon.  He was happy to oblige and to my surprise and delight, he was pretty good at it.  That is until he realized that he was much more efficient at shoveling the hummus in in larger more satisfying quantities by using his hands instead.

Rome wasn't built in a day, eh?

Here is his progress and a really yummy hummus recipe:

Spoon is discarded before I even have time to snap a photo

What Mom?  This is waaay easier.

Don't I look cute with hummus all over my face?

You know you think so

Look! I'm using an oat cake as my spoon!

You gotta try this stuff Mom.  It's delish!
I may also be excited about the monkey I just found at the bottom of my bowl.

So thanks to Pottery Barn Kids, a mess was avoided because even though the bowl ended up on the floor 3 times, all hummus stayed affixed to the bottom of the bottom heavy bowl that landed upright. Oh the wonders of modern baby paraphernalia.

Michael's Hummus
*This recipe comes via Susannah slightly adapted (by me) from the Mom-a-Licious cookbook by Domenica Catelli. Did you follow that? This cookbook gives great healthy eating recipes for kids - I love every recipe I've tried! Her kale recipe is to die for (spoken from a picky vegetable eater) and it's fast and easy!  Commercial over - no I was not paid for hyping this book.

Serves 6 (or 2 if Seth and I are involved)

1 can chickpeas, drained
1/4 c lemon juice
1 T tahini
2 cloves garlic
1/2 t cumin
1/3-1/2 c extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
1 t salt

Place ingredients in food processor or blender.  Pour EVOO thru top of food processor/blender while it's on high. Stop processing when it reaches desired consistency.

In the words of Seth, "Mmmmmmmmm!"

I thought I'd change it up a bit and show you that we do actually let him out of his high chair since many of my photos lately don't depict that crucial fact. And, how cute are those shoes?!

This Will Hurt Me More Than it Hurts You

**Sorry - wrote this post a million years ago and by million I mean 4 months.  Anyway, Seth recently had his next round of immunizations which reminded me that I had written this post but never published it.  Mommy Brain.**

Last week the dreaded 4 month "jabs" were upon us.  The term jabs or as our health visitor calls them, "jags" is apparently slang for shots according to my trustworthy and academic research on Wikipedia. "Jags," however, is Glaswegian (how someone from Glasgow would say it).  Boy I am getting quite the education over here - Taylor is getting a PhD, and I am learning English.  

Funny being that I am an English teacher.  But that's worth a whole post to itself.

Our first experience in getting Seth immunised was at 2 months (did you catch that British touch?  I recently asked a Brit why they hated "Zs" so much to which I was promptly corrected, "it's pronounced 'zed.'" Ahem.) Having heard lots of controversy over them (immunisations not zeds), I did my research (not on Wikipedia), we prayed a lot, and we ultimately felt it was more responsible to go ahead and get all of them seeing that Seth would be on many trans-Atlantic flights for the first 4 years of his life (if not his whole life - sorry Mom.)

Going into that 2 month appointment I experienced for the first time as a parent the reality of . . .

This will hurt me more than it hurts you.

This phrase used to make me mad as child when about to receive a spanking.  How could this possibly hurt you, Dad? I would wonder incredulously. Or I would sassily respond, "then don't do it!"  Needless to say, I got lots of spankings growing up. Spare the rod spoil the child, right?  Good thing we got out of California by the time I was 2.

But I really was overwhelmed and pained by the sense of this is going to hurt him, and he is going to wonder why I am letting someone hurt him.  I couldn't explain to him why it had to be done.  It just had to be done. For his good.  And so we went ahead with it.

The actual injections rendered some tears, but nothing too traumatic for baby or momma.  Hours later proved a much different story.  Disaster.  Nightmare.  Worst experience in parenting to date.  Our pediatrician had advised us not to give him Baby Tylenol*, so being the rule follower that I am, we didn't give him Baby Tylenol.

Said disaster ensued.

He shrieked uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity (so yeah, like 45 minutes).  My blood pressure was off of the charts, our good friends, Kimy and Richmond, who were over for dinner were probably scarred for life (good thing Kimy was already pregnant at this point! :)), and Taylor was driving all over town to get Baby Tylenol.

10 minutes after Seth's first dose (and yes, we called the doctor first - who heartily agreed it was a necessary measure after hearing the screaming in the background), he had calmed down and resumed his normal placid self.  Crisis averted.   Well at least until his next round.

Fast forward 2 months (actually 3 months. Socialized medicine much?)  The morning of his 4 month jabs, I awoke to happy baby gurgling noises.  I went to get Seth out of his crib, and he beamed up at me with that adorable toothless grin seeming to convey with those bright wide eyes, This is going to be a great day!

Little did he know that round two of his immunisations were scheduled for a few short hours away.  

Seth is normally a happy baby, but this morning he was extra delightful.  Dagger to my heart.  I kept looking at him looking at me with such love and trust in his eyes and feeling guilty about what I was about to subject him to.  After talking it over with Taylor, who reassured me that this is what's best for him even though it involves pain and confusion since he is too young to understand why, it dawned on me of how this is a picture of a greater Truth.  This newest lesson the Lord was teaching me (for the millionth time) is life here on Earth.  It hurts, but that hurt is not wasted by Him.  I am constantly praying that the Lord would reveal Himself to me more, that I would never stop getting to know Him better and better.  And He answered that prayer through this dreaded responsibility I have as a parent.  How often does the Lord use pain in our lives for good?  Every time.  Even though we don't always see it right away.  He uses the pain to cut away the sin in our lives and that hurts like heck, but without it we remain the same. 

We can trust Him because we serve a God that lived,

this will hurt me more than it hurts you

on the cross.

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 1 Peter 2:24

Seth came out great from this last round.  He didn't even cry during the injections.  10 pm - different story, but the Baby Tylenol was on hand so the crying only lasted 15 minutes this time.

*We realize that Baby Tylenol was recalled.  We actually used the Walgreens version instead.  Please restrain yourself from commenting on the evils of modern day medicine; I mean Baby Tylenol and immunizing children.

A Lesson in Forgiveness

**Taylor hacked into my computer (OK not really.  He was actually supposed to be editing my grammar.) and couldn't help but add some of his own comments that I decided not to delete because he's so funny, and this post is seriously lacking in the funny department.**

This year I have been doing the Siesta Scripture Memory Team and it has been the biggest blessing of 2011 so far (excepting the daily experience of living with my amazing husband).  I had been looking forward to February 1st for at least a week because that meant it was time to move on to memory verse #3. Due to the time difference between Edinburgh and Houston (6 hours), I didn't actually change verses until that afternoon, so I had one last quiet time with verse #2.

Here is a quick run-down of that fateful morning of February 1st:

7 am - I wake up (correction: my husband wakes me up), and do my normal routine: stumble out of bed, make Seth's bottle, rescue that smiling guy from his crib (one of my favorite things!), feed him, change him, plop him in the jumperoo while I unload the dishwasher, make his breakfast which this particular morning he was not very interested in, clean him up, play with him, and by 8:30 put him back down for his morning nap.  This gives me a 2 hour window to drink my coffee without a little hand trying to grab it and have time with the Lord.  Thank You, Lord for a really good sleeper!

This kid can sleep anywhere!  

This particular morning I was tempted to get back in bed (but then I thought of my husband hard at work at New College and decided to get tough and stay up - sorry Taylor, this is not what happened!).  As I was setting my alarm clock, our home phone rang.  Trying not to worry (and praying it wouldn't wake the baby), I rushed to the phone.  Relieved to see an 808 area code, I excitedly answered the phone to hear my brother, Mark, at the other end.  You see, we have a Houston phone number, so with the time difference, that put most of our family at 2:35 am.  No good calls come at 2:35 am.  On Maui, however, it was only 10:35 pm.

Calculating time differences - one of the joys of living abroad (and another way of hurting my math-challenged brain!).

It's always great to hear Mark's voice.  The night before I had been particularly missing him and talked Taylor's ear off with stories from our childhood.  Mark is such a great brother!  He is patient, loving, gentle, genuine, and very adventurous (almost as much so as Taylor).  Life is always fun and never lacks for music when Mark is around.  He provides the soundtrack for life when we're all together - especially on family vacations ("Oooahoooahooo baby please don't go...").  After college, Mark set out for Maui to pursue becoming a boat captain.  When we visited in 2008, it was such a blessing to see him in his element and to watch him with his best friend (now wife!).  They are two of my favorite people ever!

Craig and Mark on our vacation to Maui

Sis-in-law: Saray, Mom, Kait, Me

Well, during the course of our conversation, Mark told me that a family member of ours had sent out a vicious email to the entire family (minus Mark, my parents, and me - surprise, surprise), pitting Mark as the villain of her fabricated plot-line.  I mentioned recently my strong sense of justice, so as you can imagine, I was not a happy camper.  The proverbial claws were ready to come out. We talked about the best way to handle it and decided that he needed to sleep on it before responding.

We hung up,  and I decided it would be better to have coffee and my quiet time instead of a nap.  I prayed that the Lord would give me focus because all I wanted to do was call up this family member and give her a piece of my mind. 

After prayer, I started to write out my memory verse.  As I did, I began to laugh. Here is memory verse #2:

"For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh.  For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds.  We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ." 2 Cor 10:3-5

Isn't His Word so good?  Isn't His timing perfect?

It doesn't stop there; my daily reading/study plan had me digging in and meditating on Psalm 32, tagline - "Blessed are the Forgiven."  So Lord, you want me to forgive her?  Even though she wasn't asking?  Even though she doesn't deserve it?  Who would do that?  Oh, wait.  That's what you've done for me...

"But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

What a divine opportunity to practice forgiveness.  Because isn't true forgiveness letting go with no strings attached?

Right after my quiet time, the phone rang again.  Mark couldn't sleep.  After telling him what the Lord was teaching me, we talked about the best solution.  Does this mean that we roll over, and pretend it didn't happen?

Answer: NO!

He didn't say not to wage war, but not to do it according to the flesh.  Responding to a tough situation while remembering my status in Christ sure does change my attitude and way of going about things.


Be blessed today:

"Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.  Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit." Psalm 32:1-2

I love you Mark (and so does Seth (and Taylor!)).

Love,
robs

PS - New blog design reveal is just days away!!! Stay tuned...

What Goes Up...

I am not a hiker. I didn't know this until 3 hours into my first real hike.

Nightmare.

When what was supposed to be a fairly easy 4 hour hike in picturesque Hallstatt, Austria turned out to be a 10 hour one, Taylor feared I was ruined for hiking forever.

I grew up going to the beach. Vacation to my family was synonymous with relaxing in the sun not self exertion (unless it involved strapping boards to your feet and flying down a mountain - for this they make an exception). The Inces on the other hand went toe to toe with Mother Nature.

And liked it.

Enjoying Mother Nature to the Kellams meant taking a dip in emerald colored water 30 feet away from a freezer full of popsicles, a lounge chair, and a NY Times bestseller.

For the Inces it meant driving to Colorado in the middle of summer, the heat blasting in the Suburban (aka Nathanael's Revenge),  camping, and of course hiking.

So when we started talking about moving to Scotland, I dreaded all of the hiking in my near future. Taylor assured me that it was more like hill-walking and that I would definitely enjoy it.

We live close to a "mountain" here in Edinburgh. You can even see it out of our kitchen window if you are over 6 feet tall and stand in exactly the right spot. And believe it or not, I optimistically looked forward to getting "into" hiking despite my previous bad experience which included me crying as I sat down in the middle of the path refusing to go on, Taylor pushing me in the back with his Bible as he read the Psalms aloud and pleaded with God that I wouldn't be so wimpy, and Nathanael finally silently throwing his hands up in the air and sprinting ahead of us (literally) so that he could actually see the summit of the mountain since I made it clear that I wasn't going past the rest stop. To my credit, we had been hiking for 6 hours already and still had to go back down. And going down ended up being almost as hard as going up. . .

Our hike up to Arthur's Seat proved the same.


Call me naive, but I didn't even have second thoughts about going in the first place.  It was even my idea to take advantage of the small window of sunlight Edinburgh had to offer one Tuesday afternoon lest we miss our chance and Edinburgh turn to grey once more.  Taylor of course readily agreed and dropped his studies (knowing he should take advantage of this rare opportunity before I could change my mind no doubt).


What I hadn't anticipated was taking Seth.


I had been given many accounts of hiking up to Arthur's Seat from various people around the city (ok, let's be honest, I drilled anyone I knew or randomly overheard discussing it on the street), and their answers were always the same.


"It's easy.  It took us 45 minutes up and back. No problem."


Yada, yada, yada.


I believed them.  And they were probably telling the truth.  I just forgot the minute detail of bringing a four month old with us.  No, I didn't forget to bring Seth.  I just didn't mentally prepare how I'd handle a hike with him strapped to my fearless hiker-happy husband.



Our trip up the hill was a little steep, but for the most part, the path was wide and grassy - maybe I should have caught on and stopped right there.  Anxious to see the vista of our new city from the top and wanting to show my husband I could enjoy hiking with him, I pressed on.

We reached the top of the first hill and the view was spectacular,






but Arthur's Seat was blocking the best part of the city.  We carried on but not until after running into a septuagenarian Scotsman hiking alone in his loafers, shorts, and not without his walking sticks of course!  He merrily recounted the time he and his wife took their 4 month old son up to the Pentland Hills, and how his wife got quite irritated with him when the baby started turning blue from the cold.  Thanks.



We could see lots of people on top of Arthur's Seat,

and I scurried to keep up with Taylor as he strode up the side of the hill.  This one, however, was rocky and even steeper than the first.

Forget worrying about my own footing. What are we doing up here with a 4 month old (who is totally asleep at this point)?!

I kept looking left and right to see if people were giving us, are you crazy? expressions.  They weren't. So I let that console me and tried not to think about it. We picked our way past elementary school children, teenagers, parents, grandparents, and shortly made it to the top.  The view made me forget my misgivings instantly.

But they quickly came back as we made our way back down.

Taylor spotted some stone steps that led down the mountain on the side closer to our flat (the opposite side from where we climbed up).  The only problem was that we were here.

Not at the top of the actual stairs.  I was scared. Again my head swiveled from side to side to check out those around us to see if people were looking at us incredulously.  Taylor was standing in front of a "trail head." More like a footprint here and there made by some large rabbit and maybe a daring teenager.

"See.  Here is a trail marked out.  I will get us to the stairs," he promised confidently.  I wasn't buying it and began to balk, backing up and tripping over my feet.  Before I had the chance to protest, Taylor pulled me up on my feet, stopped me in my tracks,  and said,

"Do you trust me?" He didn't wait for a response.

"Am I the experienced hiker or are you?" Again not waiting for a response.

"Robin you've got to trust me even though you can't see where you are going."

He wasn't trying to be pastor-y or profound, but the weight of his statement silenced me instantly.  It hit me how that is such a picture of my walk with Christ.  I balk when I reach a trail head that I don't recognize, but I have to trust Him.  Trust that He knows the way better than I do and even though it may be hard, it is good.  It can even lead to an easier way down in the end.



So I decided that I would resist the urge to argue with my husband, and trust that he knew what he was doing better than I did.  And you know what?  We made it to the stairs.  And easily walked down the rest of the way.

A few steps into our descent, Taylor pointed to some colorful dots in a sheer crevice in the rock face.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on me that those were some of the people we had seen up at the top.



"Aren't you glad I didn't take us down that way?" Taylor laughed.

Yes, yes I am.

Don't worry. They made it.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.  He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought for it never ceasing bearing fruit."  Jeremiah 17:7-8