Jul 12, 2011 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
The evening’s not quite over when he cries awake again. He has been stirring and unsettled, night after night for the past few, a tiny chest congested and a tiny nose running. We hear him through the monitor and I hurry to the room.
I fumble in, in the dark, slow slow tip-toe, hands in front of me like one who cannot see. Groping between blankets and pillows for a pacifier that has fallen from the tiny, slightly parted lips of the precious little soul half asleep and all upset in my bed.
No matter how many times he cries, we go back. With shushing and resettling, rocking and encouraging. Checking he’s not too warm or cold or hungry, his bottom isn’t dirty or wet.
I remember lying in a bathtub in the hospital, less than a day after giving birth to him. He was down the hall, being weighed and checked by the nurses. And though there may have been a dozen other newborns in the maternity ward, and I’d heard lots of cries, I heard his cry — my whole being knew it. I knew his cry, because he was mine.
And we who are privileged with the gift of this tiny life return to his bedside when his little chest sounds gruff in its breathing and his coughs wake him. No matter how many times He needs us, we go.
I ruminate as the fumbling continues, rearranging blankets and snuggling him in — isn’t the Lord that Good Father who hears every cry of His children?
Ever present, isn’t He always there? All-knowing, isn’t He sure of what’s best in every situation?
I am His and He hears me.
Back in our neighbourhood in Gordon’s Bay, I heard the sweet chirping of chicks on a walk one day, and spotted a guinea fowl with her young. She — uncomfortable with my presence — drew her chicks up under her fluffy feathers. Once they were all drawn underneath her, she lowered herself to cover them and their sweet chirps went silent.
They were covered, and comforted — they were safe.
How sweet it is to serve and know a God who can always cover me. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without Him knowing — and aren’t I of more value than many sparrows?
He shall cover you with His feathers, And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. {Psalm 91: 4, NKJV}
Whatever you’re facing, may you find refuge under His wings.
xCC
{Sorry we aren’t Travelling this Tuesday…taking care of a little one and taking extra time to help the Bear transition!}
Jul 6, 2011 | The Parenthood
Lil’ Note: I wrote this post while we were still in our place in Gordon’s Bay.
I‘m constantly taking snapshots with my mind these days, savouring these last few moments in this special place…this home where three became four, where words became sentences, where diapers became potty-trained just in time for more diapers.
He wakes up later these days, warm and cozy and sometimes grumpy. He still cries for us to come get him, even though he’s in a big-boy bed. Occasionally all we hear is a loud, “Hey! I wake!” He’s never quite sure about breakfast…no Pwo-Nutwo … no yoghurt … yes Pwo-Nutwo. Yes Yoghurt. I want deez, deez deez!!
{First week in Gordon’s Bay}
Something clicked funny in the “May I please…” training, so when he is prompted to ask for something properly, he quickly rattles out:
May I please get down, yes, may, youuuuuuuu.
That’s been the story for a month and half and he’s sticking with it.
At breakfast one morning, we held hands and I decided to pray with my own special rendition of a Veggie Tales song:
Thank you, God, for this day, for the food in our bowls…
but before I could get to the second line of my special song he interrupted with a loud
NOPE NOPE NOOOOOPE!
And before I could finish saying, “I can pray how I want…” he interrupted again with an assertive
“Pway Ploperly, Mama. Do it ploperly.”
I could only laugh in response.
The baby that learned to walk and to talk, to dance and to run right here, is now a little boy. Full of life, and spunk and personality, and so different from the toothless wonder that arrived in ’09.
I pause listening to him speak as he uses the ‘a’ from ‘Father’ in words like fast and dance. In my American accent I ask “Are you dancing, Bear?” {with the a sound like the word ‘an’} and he replies, “No. I dancing.” with the ‘a’ sound from the word ‘father’ again.
How soon will that bit of South Africa fade? I wonder.
{near the end of our time in Gordon’s Bay}
***
Now here we are in Bloemfontein, those days have passed, and the last two months of calling South Africa home are upon us. I’m reminded to slow down, and to be thankful for this day.
Whichever they are, these days pass by so quickly. Kiss your family. Hug your kids. Slow down and be thankful for today.
You may not pass this way again.
xCC
Jul 1, 2011 | Stories, The Parenthood
Although yesterday was was a little on the hectic side, we made it through a crazy morning of last minute errands, the new folks arriving to move in promptly at nine a.m., me discovering a gabillion things I forgot to make a plan about…and the Hubs having to pack and repack Mr. Potato Head to fit everything in. (With the Bear balancing something on his head.)
HH was almost close to throwing one box in the trash without even checking to see what was inside. Good thing he didn’t — there was half a bag of Ghiradelli (too tired to check on how to spell that, forgive me magical chocolate people) dark chocolate chips, the prescriptions he’d just paid about 50 bucks (US!) for, the stuff that he makes our morning lattes with, and coffee grounds, and a bunch of other important stuff inside. Shew, that was a close one.
We are now safely in lovely Hermanus, having spent the night with some dear friends after getting away from Gordon’s Bay after lunch yesterday.
Last night as we lay the Bear down in the bed we eventually ended up all sharing for the evening (because the Bear kept falling off the mattress on the floor!) he said he wanted to go sleep in his bed at home.
It made my heart sore a little.
The four of us were together on the bed, and the Hubs said “Home is right here. Wherever we are, altogether, that’s home. We’re home.”
Sometimes it feels like home in Gordon’s Bay was where we became a family. But I trust that family can be home for a while.
Tomorrow we’ll take off for Bloemfontein and hopefully it will be a relaxed two-day journey getting us there on Sunday evening.
I’m hoping for some peaceful car time with both boys sleeping so that I can write my way through the whirlwind of emotions that was this past week. What do you think my chances are?
Thanks for your prayers, friends. I think the hard part’s over, even though this adventure is just beginning.
xCC
Jun 24, 2011 | The Parenthood
The last time we made a transcontinental move, this little guy
was this little guy.
{First African bath, in the sink of our short-term rental! Age 1}
His previous affinity for suitcases
turned into a feeling more akin to … um…
extreme dislike.
And now that he sees the boxes, the suitcases, and the occasional disappearance of toys…he finds it all a little…unsettling. So please say a little prayer for the little Bear.
He also seems to have picked up a wee cold/runny nose/grumpy attitude/sore throat in this wet and wintry Cape weather. And so have his Mom and Dad. (The Tank seems strong in that department no surprise there…but still a little fussier than usual with a very wee cold.) So perhaps while you’re saying that little Bear prayer, say one for the rest of the Collie Clan, too.
The mountain of laundry {which needs to be climbed before packing} is becoming a molehill. <|: – ) {See the party hat guy?} And the shippers arrive on Tuesday. If I had the time, I could write a bucket-load of sentimentalities about this transition. They’ll probably arrive once we’re over this molehill. My heart wanders just pondering it all…
Blessings and thanks for the encouragement in the meantime!
xCC
Jun 19, 2011 | The Parenthood
Happy Father’s Day…
To the father who’s always been there, whom I love so much, and who saw the gift of words in me before I saw it myself…
And to the second father I’m privileged to have been blessed with, who is one-of-a-kind and wonderful:
And to the father of my children who loves our boys so much.
The world is full of children, and adults, in desperate need of a good father,
not a perfect one, but one at least willing to show up.
One willing to love, to guide, to gently lead,
and to reflect the Father heart of God.
And, in this life, I’m privileged enough to have three.
From the bottom of my heart, and from these precious boys,
who, I pray, will be good fathers some day,
thank you.
To all the Dads aiming to reflect the Father’s heart every day, I wish you a Happy Father’s Day.
xCC
Jun 12, 2011 | The Parenthood
Just a reminder…
Unless you’re in Britain, in which case, the date might be different.
Or maybe that’s just Mother’s Day because I know that one’s different.
But Father’s Day could be different, too, I suppose. In which case, if you’re in Britain, you better just check. But I suppose sending Dad a card on another country’s Father’s Day wouldn’t be all bad.
Just in case.
Otherwise, consider yourself reminded.
{NB: I think Shutterfly’s discount might end in a couple of hours!}
xCC
P.S. I promise you’re getting a real card and not just a picture of one, Dad! Love ya!
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