Walk in Paradise

This week marks three years since my dad was called home to be with the Lord.

The bright spot in the middle of the week is that my nephew, my parents' first grandchild, was baptized two years ago today.

But I still miss my dad.

A few nights ago I was singing to one of my twin girls while she tried valiantly to fall asleep in my arms. Out of the blue, I started singing a Hawaiian hymn that my father used to sing to us when we were young. When I forgot the words, I simply hummed the beautiful melody, hoping my baby would find it as soothing as I did so many years ago. Inside, I was saddened to realize that I had forgotten many of the words.

The next day, as I was going through a box of my father's things, I came across a copy of the Hawaiian lyrics that he had prepared for me. What are the odds? The Lord is merciful, even in the smallest matters.

Rather than relay the written lyrics, I found this video on YouTube, where you can also read a short explanation of the song. I only remember my dad singing the second verse in English, which began, "Let me walk in Paradise with you, Lord."

And now he is walking in Paradise. His prayer has been answered.

Un-Annoying Things

(Just to show that I am actually capable of enjoying the little things in life...)

1. The morning sun peeking through my front window blinds.

2. A freshly mopped kitchen floor.

3. Baby toots.

4. Snuggling with my husband at the end of a long day.

5. My tv-less living room.

6. Planning do-it-yourself updates to our home.

7. Interesting conversations over tasty dinners.

8. Watching my 6-month-old twins hold hands (or arm wrestle, depending on your perspective) on the living room floor.

9. Fresh flowers on the kitchen table.

10. Singing a mix of good hymns, lullabies, and silly songs to sleepy babies.

Answered Prayer

I've been out of the hospital for nearly 2 full months now. That's almost as long as I was in the hospital. I have come a long way physically, but I still have a long way to go. Few, if any, can comprehend the ordeal my husband and I have been through. There were times when we despaired for our children's lives. We even discussed what we planned to do in case the worst happened...

But the worst didn't happen. The Lord has been merciful to us.

So often we turned to the Psalms for comfort. Early on I hoped and prayed that I could celebrate with the Psalmist in what my Bible calls "Praise for Answered Prayer":

I love the LORD, because He has heard
My voice and my supplications.
Because He has inclined His ear to me,
Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live.
The pains of death surrounded me,
And the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me;
I found trouble and sorrow.
Then I called upon the name of the LORD:
"O LORD, I implore You, deliver my soul!"

Gracious is the LORD, and righteous;
Yes, our God is merciful.
The LORD preserves the simple;
I was brought low, and He saved me.
Return to your rest, O my soul,
For the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.

For You have delivered my soul from death,
My eyes from tears,
And my feet from falling.
I will walk before the LORD
In the land of the living.
I believed, therefore I spoke,
"I am greatly afflicted."
I said in my haste,
"All men are liars."

What shall I render to the LORD
For all His benefits toward me?
I will take up the cup of salvation,
And call upon the name of the LORD.
I will pay my vows to the LORD
Now in the presence of all His people.

Precious in the sight of the LORD
Is the death of His saints.

O LORD, truly I am Your servant;
I am Your servant, the son of Your maidservant;
You have loosed my bonds.
I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving,
And will call upon the name of the LORD.

I will pay my vows to the LORD
Now in the presence of all His people.
In the courts of the LORD's house,
In the midst of you, O Jerusalem.

Praise the LORD!

--Psalm 116

Not In Our Hands

We made it to the specialist on Monday. Overall, I'd say it went well, but certainly not as well as we'd like. My cervix is very short and beginning to open, and there are almost no options for us to do anything about it. There is a high risk for preterm labor, though not nearly as high as we'd feared (possibly in the 30% range). It's particularly scary right now since we have not reached the threshold of viability for the babies.

On the brighter side, the specialist says is is still possible that I can carry the pregnancy to term. He offered us an "experimental" hormone treatment that has shown some promise in reducing the risk of preterm birth, but is not yet approved by the FDA (...not that we think much of the federal government, anyway). There is no risk to the babies, so we decided to go ahead and try it. Beyond that, I try to rest as much as possible, and we pray constantly.

So that's where we are.

By the way...we have been calling the girls Lillian and Pearl. I think the names will probably stick. :)

Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him,

on those who hope in His steadfast love,

that He may deliver their soul from death

and keep them alive in famine.

Our soul waits for the LORD;

He is our help and our shield.

For our heart is glad in Him,

because we trust in His holy name.

Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us,

even as we hope in you.

--Ps. 33:18-22

A Double Portion!

After nearly 5 years of marriage, the Lord has blessed us with twin girls, due March 2nd.

Aren't they beautiful?

Unfortunately, complications have developed, and now I'm on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. We are seeing a maternal-fetal medicine specialist on Monday.

May God be merciful to us and our children for the sake of His Son, Jesus.

On this, his birthday...

My dad would have been 56 today.

If things had turned out differently, we might have had a party. My mom might have cooked his favorite: prime rib. I might have unearthed my old (and very limited) cake decorating supplies to bake him a chocolate cake with chocolate icing to eat with chocolate ice cream topped with chocolate fudge. The family might have chipped in to buy him a special gift. I might have been sitting at my usual spot at the kitchen table next to him while we talked theology until well after midnight.

But things didn't turn out differently. Instead, I am having a glass of his favorite scotch (Balvenie) in honor of his memory. It was actually his bottle, come to think of it. Thanks, Dad.

In those turbulent high school years I saw my dad as my rock, my steady anchor and support in that raging sea of stereotypical teenage angst. I could tell him anything, ask him anything, and he would drop what he was doing to be what a father should be. Now he is gone, and try as I might, sometimes I can't help but feel alone. It doesn't make sense. I have a wonderful husband, a caring family, and supportive Christian friends. But that connection - that deep understanding I shared with my dad and no one else - that is gone.

A friend and mentor explained to me recently that the Lord sometimes takes our idols away from us. Perhaps that is what God has done here for me. Now my dad is with Jesus, and my heart and mind are more frequently drawn to Him than they ever were.

That is, I believe, what my dad would want. The cross was his life. He constantly pointed others to Christ. In his death, I am reminded that the Gospel gives life. My dad is forgiven, and so am I. When the Lord calls me home, what a happy reunion it will be.

Here's to you, Dad.

Auntie Time

Guess what I did during last week's snow days...

How could anyone not fall for this handsome little guy?

It was a good break.

Four years ago today.

Distraction

I was ready for school to start. It's exciting to be working with older students. Even though it's more difficult, I find that reading about the political intrigues of the Italian Renaissance is much more enjoyable than figuring out how to teach 7-year-olds what sounds "th" makes.

But there is a different way in which I was looking forward to school. It provides me with a built-in distraction from so many burdens. I don't mean to complain because, yes, things could be a lot worse and, yes, despite my cares I am still immensely blessed. Yet to acknowledge that doesn't flip a magical switch and remove the sadness that I carry.

The story is that when Martin Luther was depressed, he threw himself into his work. I definitely think it's more desirable to do that than to sit around and wallow in self-pity. If I'm focusing on something worthwhile, something immediate, and something emotionally neutral, then I'm NOT focusing on sorrow, and pain, and loss. How can that be a bad thing?

A couple of nights ago as I was falling asleep, I was thinking about what happens when I stop and step back from my work. Where has my distraction led me? I take my head out of the sand and the crosses I bear are as real as ever. What's worse is that in using my job as a set of blinders to take my eyes off of the hurt I risk blinding myself to the good things in life. A long walk in cool twilight. New songs on the radio. Enjoying a drink and cigar on the deck with my husband. The pleasure of rambling about whatever strikes my fancy at my computer. Picking garden ripe tomatoes. The joy of decorating my house. A thoughtful gift from a good friend.

Yes, I was looking forward to school for its value as a distraction. I'm sure it will remain a temptation for me to treat it as one. But I need to remind myself that it's not worth taking my eyes off of what is important.