Made By God

Posted on September 19, 2012 by thisnest

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He’s a handful, no doubt, but in this particular moment he was a lap and armful – cuddled up with me in a rare moment of ceased activity. I gently ran my fingers through his soft, dark-brown curls while kissing and smelling, yes smelling (you mamas out there know what I’m talking about), the top of his four-year-old head.

I began to tell him just how perfect his little head was – asking him where he got that beautiful head…

“God made it” he explained, and then matter-of-factly followed up his explanation…

“It’s what He finished me with!”

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Never Forget

Posted on September 11, 2012 by thisnest

When I was fifteen, my mother shared with me her story of the day JFK was assassinated. Her junior high classroom, the shock of a school full of teachers and students, tears streaming down the faces of almost everyone around her. Her audible recollection did a few things for me; it allowed me to visualize my own mother at an age younger than I was (the very first time I had ever even thought of her life before me), and it made me feel a connection with her as I came to terms with almost the same scenario in my own life. Not an assassination, but rather the mid-launch explosion of the space shuttle Challenger that claimed the lives of all on board – including a teacher, which was why all the TV’s in the school were on as we watched this all play out on live television.

Many years later, on a sunny Tuesday morning, another much graver scenario was also playing out on live television. As I sat there, frozen in shock and glued to each and every scene taking place thousands of miles from me, and still right in front of my eyes, I remember thinking…this is my JFK story. Like the generation before my mother had their Pearl Harbor story, and my mom had hers…this was mine. I will never forget. I will remember the sun creeping in through the windows as it settled on the day, the utter nausea I felt knowing there were babies on those planes and parents who were helpless to defend them, the fear with which we decided to keep all of our children out of school until we knew more about the attacks, the warmth of the September morning on my face existing simultaneously with the coldness in my heart toward the monsters who claimed so much innocence that day…I will rememer it all.

Today, I choose to honor the lost with my LIFE. I represent the dead by LIVING. We will pay tribute to the families who lost fathers, mothers, and children that terrible day – by loving and laughing as a father, mother, and children on this glorious day. When the day comes that my children have the unfortunate experience that defines their time and gives them their own story to tell…I pray God will see them safely through it. Then, I will share my story about that sunny Tuesday morning just like my mother did for me.

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Wordless Wednesday…”Back To School”

Posted on September 5, 2012 by thisnest

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Little Man

Posted on September 5, 2012 by thisnest

Little League Days

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First contraction, early Spring morning. Bags packed, ready to go. Labor and delivery, first time. Finally laid my eyes upon your beautiful self. It’s a boy. Little Man…my joy.

First smile, just gas. Eye contact. Kisses as I caressed your new face. Caresses as I kissed your new face. First real smile, not gas this time. Little Man, my heart.

First tooth, pearly white. First word – Daddy, not fair. First step, quickly running. Running quickly…through your life. Slow down, Little Man. Please.

First birthday, crying right before midnight. Me, not you. You were asleep. I was standing guard, helpless to stop the tick tick tickin’ of time. My Little Man’s very first year…over. Gone.

First day of kindergarten, crying again. Me, not you. You were excited. Such a Little Man. Hair braided, handsome. You so ready to be without me…me not ready to be without you.

First swing at bat. First touchdown dance. First three point shot. First pinning of your opponent on that mat. Getting big, Little Man. Getting strong too. I’ll ask you one more time…slow down?

First day of middle school. First kiss, Elizabeth. First house party, showing off your moves. Little Man dancing through your life. I love my front row seat…but I’d like to call a time out. Would that be ok?

First day of high school, more crying. Me, not you. You were so ready. Too ready. Leaving me behind in the land of UNready. Little Man spreading his Sparrow wings, not quite ready to fly…but getting closer.

First whisker, voice cracking. First homecoming. First prom, lookin’ good, Son. Just like your daddy. Frantically grabbing the moments and commiting them to memory…memories of my Little Man.

First day of senior year. Tomorrow. Crying again. Me, not you. You’re asleep, probably dreaming about getting out of here. My nightmare. In my heart, many boxes. Each containing smaller versions of my little man. In my eyes, just one you. My son, my first-born…

Little Man.

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Thankful For My Stress

Posted on August 29, 2012 by thisnest

 

The Sparrow Kids

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In the middle of today’s blessed chaos, as I hustled past the patio door with a pile of dirty laundry toward the washing machine, I caught a glimpse of my two maniac midgets squatting in the Summer sun, deep into their little action figures and their wild imaginations. I blew the messy strands of hair off of my sweaty forehead and stopped in my tracks, lowering the load of dirty laundry several feet short of its destination.

“Stop. Be still. Look at this.” I heard HIM say

On our messy patio, butt-naked with their clothes tossed in a pile of mud and bark-dust, two tiny brothers playing the day away in the sunshine…completely shielded from the stresses of life. An involuntary smile crept across my face and I felt their stress armor beginning to cover me as well. Lord knows I needed it – what with Dee Dee’s volleyball tryouts, Boo Boo sneaking out the other night, D’Lo being so dang grumpy from all this prednisone, and the pressure of back-to-school expenses.

“Stop. Be still. Look at ALL of this.” I heard HIM say again

And it was clear. How grateful am I to be here – in this time, in this country, in this neighborhood, in these schools…with this family? So, so very thankful. The clarity is that my stress isn’t really…well…stress. Dee Dee will either make the varsity team or she’ll make the JV team – but I don’t have the everyday concern about her genitals being mutilated or having her education denied her due to her sex. Boo Boo may be pressing his luck and definitely disrespecting us as he tries to spread his little wings – but this young Sparrow of ours will never have to fear being turned into a child soldier who has to kill his own parents during a war on his own country’s soil. D’Lo may be grumpy from this prednisone – but he has medicine and doctors who make him smile…and water, and food, and healthy parents to wrap him in their protection. While my worries are many that hair, clothes, backpacks, and shoes won’t be just right for the first day of school – I am aware of the little ones who don’t have any of those things…or even a school.

No civil war, no genocide, no famine, no watching my children die because simple and everyday medicines aren’t available in my area, no homelessness, and no walking thirty miles to get my kids one drink of water and having to bury one along the way.

No constant concern for the mere survival of my family.

I stopped. I stood still. I looked at all of this…

And I was all of a sudden thanking HIM for my stress.

 

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