On: Knitting, Prayer, Giving a Name and The Most Beautiful Smile I've Ever Seen

I'm going to keep sharing these stories as long as they're fresh in my mind. 

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In the final days of Robin's pregnancy she was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute. As her husband, it became increasingly difficult to watch her in this state of body and mind. Especially knowing that I was powerless to mitigate her discomforts.  On one particular evening, a day or two before Hattie was born, Robin asked me to pray for her.

Like many areas of my life I usually come out of the gates quickly and with little thought, but then as the gravity of my words (or actions) becomes more apparent I slow down and become more thoughtful. This prayer was no different. I don't know exactly how the prayer started, but I came to a place where I wanted to ask the Great Searcher of Human Hearts [1] to send us our child. But I couldn't finish the sentence. It seemed wrong.

Our child, was still being created. Knit together. Fashioned. Who was I to ask the Giver of Life to hurry things up. Even in the midst of my wife's discomfort? I couldn't ask for that.

"You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb." Psalm 139:13

I thought of my child - and how, if I already knew him or her I would tell them to enjoy these final moments before their birth. Enjoy the time with their creator. What awaited him or her was a world filled with so many opportunities to be well acquainted with evil and hurt. Take your time getting here little one.

Something miraculous happens in those moments when a child comes into this world. I watched every second of Hattie's birth. I can remember seeing her head, full of hair, for the first time. And as Robin labored to be delivered, Hattie came closer and closer to birth. Her head would appear a little bigger and a little bigger with each contraction. For about 25 minutes I though Hattie's head was about the size of a racket ball. Its all I could see, and I wasn't exactly familiar with how large a newborn's head was supposed to be. So I deduced then and there that she was just really tiny. And, I couldn't figure out why with a head so small she wasn't fitting out. Hattie is a tiny girl, but her head was actually the size of a large grapefruit, not a racket ball. I'll spare the details of what Hattie's head was doing in order to fit out, and why I thought it was so much smaller.

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From the moment Robin asked me if I could confirm what the pregnancy test was revealing that verse above (Psalm 139) never left my mind. I thought of it almost every time I thought of our baby. Jealous at times. Longing for that personal touch from God. 

Obviously (and many of our friends and family, as well as any parent, can attest) there have been so many moments over the last 10 days where we have felt so incapable of parenting our little child. Most of the nights since her birth have included a several hour "papa/daughter" session where I try to remind Hattie of how tired she is. And she always persists that she's not tired at all, and the land where she comes from its really 2 in the afternoon, not 2 in the morning.

I often turn to prayer in these hours. And nearly every time I pray. Whether prayer for Hattie, for myself, or Robin, Hattie's demeanor noticeably changes. So many times when I've started to pray Hattie starts to grin, smile and even chuckle (out loud) some times. I know it sounds crazy. I wouldn't believe it myself if it hadn't happened countless times.

Its amazing how intimately Hattie must know the One she has spent the last 9 months being fashioned by. Again, I'm jealous.

Throughout the pregnancy I prayed and asked the God to share with me what he called Hattie, during their time together in the womb. I'm not here to say that she was or was not called Hattie. Only that I know he has a name for my daughter. He knows how to bring a smile to her face.

Eventually things will transition and I'll be the one who brings a smile to her face. First with a tickle on the bottom of her foot. Then through funny stories. Leading to ironic and witty humor. Eventually, as she laughs at how old fashioned her papa is :)

I don't know if these smiles will be the same as those I've seen in these first days. The pureness of them has yet to know pain. The genuiness of them has yet to know cynicism. The joy they represent couldn't possibly be more authentic.

Best part is: they're contagious. I never fail to stop in my tracks and smile too. They are the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen. Photos don't do them justice.

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[1] George Washington used this phrase to refer to our One God. I've loved it ever since I heard it.

Pedestrians in Kindness

Two men walking home along a road outside of Jerusalem. The events of the few days prior loomed in their minds and burdened their hearts. Then, out of nowhere, a lone pilgrim joined them in there travels. They greeted him cordially and all three of them walked together.

It didn't take long for the new traveler to realize these two other men were solemn and burdened. He inquired of their demeanor.

"Have you not heard?" they replied. "Of events that have passed in these recent days?" And they proceeded to tell him how a man, whom everyone had thought would be their Saving Grace, had been put to death at the hands of the local authorities.

The man listened to their tale and when they had finished he told them his take on things. Only it wasn't exactly his take. He simply reminded them of all the stories from days gone by. Stories of an innocent man who was willing to die for all those whom he would call brethren. A man who would come from God and dwell among men. His stories went on for hours.

It was about that time the two men had reached their destination and the lone traveler prepared to continue on his way. But they insisted that he stay the night, for it had grown late. He entered their home and when the three of them sat down to share a meal, the guest took bread gave thanks, and broke the bread. It was at this very moment that he vanished before their very eyes. They realized their traveling companion was their Saving Grace. And their hearts burned within them.

A friend once asked me, "If you knew you had been walking with your Saving Grace all along, don't you think you would have walked a little slower?"

St. Cuthbert

I haven't been doing much writing on the blog lately. Its not writers block. More like: writers "wet feet." Let me explain: whenever I write or say something the words take a stand in one direction or another. Whether I mean them to or not.  My friend Justin was recently explaining to me that he was really starting to appreciate being selective with his words. I share his sentiment.

But then there are stories and photographs. A perspective and a message that invoke a response. An invitation to the hearer, or viewer, to engage their mind and heart and find truth for themselves.

The king gave St. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne a beautiful horse because he was limp and aging. As Cuthbert rode the horse down the road he saw a ragged beggar, and gave him the horse. Word soon got back to the king and he was angry with Cuthbert. "I gave you a magnificent horse and you squandered it on a worthless beggar," screamed the king, "I should have given you a sorry old mare."

"Ah, my beloved king," says Cuthbert, "you value the son of a thoroughbred more than you value a son of God." [story borrowed and adapted from a Brennan Manning book]