A Beautiful, Funny Life

Radical Acceptance

2012-01-19T07:23:00.000-06:00

So many people have made comments to me about how strong I am for the way I am dealing with Nathaniel’s illnesses (his hemophilia and lung problems). They’ve said the same things to Lesley. The difference is, though, that she really is strong. Me? Well…
I’m just too weak to fight with it.

Nathaniel is very sick. Even as I type this, he’s back in the hospital due to his heavy congestion. Maybe he’s not quite over the cold that sent him to the hospital last week. When we catch a cold, our lungs produce mucus that we expel to push the virus causing the cold out of our bodies. Nathaniel’s lungs, for whatever reason, are not expelling that mucus. The mucus builds up and builds up and builds up and slowly causes his lungs not to work in keeping his blood oxygen saturation at a healthy level. Dealing with this is not strength.

I’ve stuck Nathaniel on 2 different occasions, and plan on doing so again soon. I mean that I’ve put the needle into the subcutaneous port in order to infuse the blood clotting factor. I did the whole process from wiping the counter down with Clorox disinfecting wipes to make the area sterile to putting on the band aid to throwing everything away when we’re done. This is not strength, either.

I’ve had to explain to Jacob and Caitlin on many different occasions why they cannot jump on the bed or on the floor or on the couch next to him. If they were to trip and fall on him, it could cause an internal bleed that could kill him. Not strength.

What is it then?

I think I call it acceptance. This is what we do now. We take Nathaniel to the hospital when he can’t breathe. That’s just what we do. We give him his blood clotting factor. It’s a shot 3 times a week. We balance keeping him safe from his very active brother and sister with trying to make sure they know that they can touch him, love on him, and have fun with him. That’s our daily lives.

It doesn’t take strength, unless it’s the strength of acceptance. But really, accepting reality doesn’t take a heck of a lot of strength either. I’ve always found fighting reality is a lot harder than accepting it. This is kind of my approach to exercise really. I know the dumbbell’s heavy. I can accept that and move on. I don’t need to lift it to know it’s going to be hard to lift. Lifting it takes strength. I’m a very weak, out of shape person, but I accept that.

I know that it’s going to be hard to cope with Nathaniel’s illnesses. Fighting with illness takes more strength than accepting that it’s going to be hard. So often we compound our own difficulties by thinking that life should not be difficult, or wondering why this is happening to me, or grumbling about the fact that life is unfair.

Life is hard enough without making it worse by feeling bad about the fact that it’s hard. Getting angry about the fact that life is hard won’t really help the situation, either. The first of the four noble truths of Buddhism is that life is suffering. Once we accept that, life gets a little easier; because we stop fighting so much when suffering comes. Actually, it’s one of the first things Christians know about being a fallen human in a fallen world. God told Eve, in pain she would bring forth children. And to Adam, the Lord said, “By the sweat of your brow shall you get bread to eat.” Life isn’t paradise in the garden anymore. We and the world are fallen from that perfect state of creation, so we suffer.

The real trick is to accept suffering. It’s an incontrovertible consequence of our fallen state. We suffer because of original sin. What makes so much conflict in our lives is that we don’t want to accept suffering. That doesn’t mean that if I get sick I should just lay down and die. When I get a headache, I take Advil. I also know that until the Advil really kicks in, my head is going to hurt. Getting upset about that and irritable with those around me is not going to make my head hurt any less.

If I were to get cancer, I would get treatment. I would also accept the fact that I’m probably going to feel like crap from the cancer and the treatment. That’s part of the process. I would also, if it were to come to that eventually, accept the fact that all treatment has been done and there is nothing left to do. I would accept the inevitability of my own death, and make preparations. Getting mad about it; getting sad about it; being a jerk about it is not going to help the situation.

Nathaniel has hemophilia. We accept that. That doesn’t mean we let it go and hope for the best. We provide him the necessary assistance to manage it so that it will be as unobtrusive to his life as possible. We accept that, too. Nathaniel’s lungs are weak. He cannot expel the mucus that builds up in them if he catches a cold. What can I do about that? Getting mad doesn’t change the reality that this dumbbell is heavy to lift. I accept it. Jacob has to wear a patch over his eye for at least 8 weeks. I hope to teach him to accept reality as it is. We do what we have to do to manage reality. Getting mad, embarrassed, shy, sad, or upset is not going to change the fact that this is what we have to do.

In a lot of ways, Nike had it right.

Just do it.

In the end, it brings me back to Job. After losing his children, his livestock, his servants, and everything he had, the Lord then allowed Satan to strike him with an illness causing severe boils. His wife told him that he should just “Curse God and die!” (Man, I’ve wanted to say that to a few people in my time.)

“But he said to her, ‘You speak as foolish women do. We accept good things from God; should we not accept evil?’ Through all this, Job did not sin in what he said.” Job 2:10.

Ultimately, it is not strength that helps me bear up under trials. It is acceptance.

Perfect Love Drives Out Fear

2012-01-07T22:16:00.002-06:00

I’ve been thinking of 1 John 4:18 a lot lately. A lot of people are familiar with part of this verse, “Perfect love drives out fear.” That’s not the entire verse, though.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love.”

Too often, when things happen like what has happened with my family and Nathaniel, it gets interpreted as a punishment. It was a question that I know has crossed both Lesley’s and my mind, “What did we do to deserve this?” The question, “Why is God doing this to us?” is much like it, often asked out of a sense that God is heaping troubles on us because we did something, even unknowingly, to deserve it. Even the question, "Why would God let this happen?" suggests the idea that God, although passively, has something to do with the cause of our suffering. Many people have that image of God as the punisher, wreaking vengeance for everything in our lives we’ve done that’s wrong.

If we believe that God’s love is perfect, this is unacceptable. In an earlier post, I discuss the biblical Truth that all suffering is a result of original sin. Nathaniel’s hemophilia and lung problems are due to the fact that we are separated from God while we live in this world. They are not punishments from God.

I have no need to fear, because I am doing the best I can to remain in right relationship with the God who loves me. Is my love perfect, as 1 John 4:18 requires? No, but God’s love is. I’ve moved past the being angry at God phase of all that's happened over the last six months. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been angry with Him. In faith, though, I know that He is the source of everything good that has kept Nathaniel alive. How can I be angry with a God who has been so active, even before Nathaniel was born, in giving us what we’ve needed to enjoy him in our lives?

It wasn't easy moving beyond the anger I felt for what God allowed to happen to my little boy. It took a great deal of faith and reflection. God's permissive will allows suffering, because for him to remove suffering would be for him to rescind his gift of free will. God passively allows suffering, because it is the result of original sin, the consequence of humanity's choice as a whole to separate ourselves from Him. God actively works to be there with us through our suffering, though, so that we can lean on Him for wisdom, awe, reverence, strength, understanding courage and knowledge. (Get that, the gifts of the Holy Spirit). God joins us in our suffering so that we can experience "the peace that surpasses understanding" (Phillipians 4:7).

God has not left us in our pain. God joins us in our suffering. That's the meaning of the cross of Jesus Christ.

Hemophilia is not a punishment. Nathaniel, certainly, is not.

One of the most important things I know as a parent is that my children’s self-concept is formed by my belief in them. If I think of my children as cursed, as their hardships as punishments, their needs as awkward, their quirks as weird, however you want to put it, that’s what they are going to think of themselves. Children do not know what to think about themselves. Whether it’s something as simple as Jacob needing to wear a “pirate patch” because he has anisometropia and anisometropic amblyopia (the doctors' fancy way of saying his left eye sees better than his right eye), or something as complex as managing Nathaniel’s hemophilia, they will form their thoughts about it according to the way Lesley and I think about it.

If we make out that it’s weird and awkward that Jacob has to wear a patch for a few weeks to correct his vision, he’s going to believe that HE IS weird and awkward. I prefer to think of it as kind of cool. He’s got a doctor’s order to be a pirate for the next 2 months. If truth be told, I'm a little bit jealous.

If we think of ourselves or Nathaniel as being punished by God because Nathaniel has hemophilia, even if I never say a word about it to him, he’s going to develop a sense that HE IS a punishment to us, a curse to us. I prefer to think of him as a gift. That’s what he really is.

God gave him to us, and… “If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him” (Matthew 7:11). Nathaniel is our “gift from God.”

And so are Jacob and Caitlin.

Perfect love casts out fear, because I don’t need to be afraid of being punished. I don’t love my God perfectly, but I believe in His perfect love. And I believe in His desire to help my love for Him to grow. After all, “God is love” (1 John 4:8). So while I cannot trust that a gene on an X chromosome won't mutate to cause a life long, difficult to manage illness in an infant, I can trust that God will be there next to me and Lesley and, more importantly, next to Nathaniel, for as long as he has to manage it. I can't trust that Nathaniel's lungs will ever be healed, but I can trust that God's breath of life will lift him up for eternity.

Parenting a "Normal" Sibling of a Special Needs Child

2011-12-28T13:54:00.000-06:00

Jacob had his kindergarten check-up a couple of weeks ago. Healthy as a horse, of course. He had to get his 5 year old vaccinations, but no big deal. Lesley said he was a real trooper and didn’t even cry. Except a couple of days later when he went up to Lesley and announced, “Mom, I think I caught hemophilia from my shots.”

Jacob has put together shots with hemophilia, because “shots” is the word that we have been using to describe the thrice weekly infusions that Nathaniel needs to receive.

The word “thrice” should be used more often.

It seems to me a very natural connection in the mind of a 5 year old. “Getting shots” is the treatment for hemophilia. If Jacob received shots, he must have hemophilia, too. Since he didn’t have it before he got the shots, but he got shots anyway, then he must have gotten it from the shots. Makes perfect sense.

Jacob’s been the victim of another illness that we’ve called “Hezafaken Syndrome.” The symptoms are being able to breathe out, but not in, itchy spots under his feet, ear wax effusing from the ears, and being so sick that he cannot even muster the energy to run a fever. He’s had this and several other variants on multiple occasions over the last month or so.

Jacob has been more and more protesting that he is sick or that he has some other malady that demands immediate attention.

Caitlin has been showing some interesting behaviors, too. She used to be highly independent. She did not want us to help her do anything. Now, she wants to be carried through the store, sit on our laps at dinner time, drink out of “sippy cups,” and she has been exhibiting all kinds of physical injuries for which she needs band aids, Dora or Disney Princess preferred, thank you very much.

We’ve spent so much time over Nathaniel: the hospitalization, the subsequent pulmonary problems, the bleeds (averaging 2 per week in November) that required all of those hospital visits, the surgery earlier this month and the hospital check-ups since then, and now the thrice weekly (there it is again) visits from April, our home health nurse, to give him the infusions of blood clotting factor.

Jacob actually confessed at one point that he was feeling left out of our family.

I think I know the source of Hezafaken Syndrome. I don’t think it’s hard to figure out Caitlin’s new found clinginess.

Nathaniel’s physical health needs have demanded so much attention from both Lesley and me that Jacob and Caitlin are responding by “being sick,” being needy, reverting to what could be considered a younger stage of development when they are with us. They are increasing their need for us.

Lesley and I have tried to keep them involved. We want them to be around when Nathaniel’s receiving his infusions and breathing treatments. Caring for Nathaniel’s physical health will be a normal part of our lives, and we want Jacob and Caitlin to experience it as just what we do. We’ve even employed them to help out, especially with the breathing treatments where keeping things sterile is not as important (compared to the sterile environment necessary for the infusions). We ask them to help with Nathaniel’s bath time and changing diapers as a means of keeping them involved.

I’ve realized that’s a cop out.

The fact is if we ask them to help us give Nathaniel a breathing treatment or change a diaper or give a bath, we’re still focusing the attention on Nathaniel, not them. We praise Jacob and Caitlin for helping, giving them all kinds of affirmation about what a good big brother and big sister they are. But even that’s about Nathaniel. They’re good because they’re a good provider for Nathaniel. That doesn’t make them good in their own right, good just for being themselves.

That’s not to say we don’t want them involved in these things. We want them to be a good big brother and big sister. We cannot replace the attention they require, however, by only including them in activities involving Nathaniel. One thing we were told when we first learned that Nathaniel has hemophilia is that our lives should not revolve around his illness. It’s very hard not to let that happen, even in the way we parent our other children.

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been taking Jacob out, just him and me once a week. He’s usually satisfied with going to McDonald’s for supper and then running an errand. We did some Christmas shopping the last time we went out. One on one, just the two of us. Interestingly, his symptoms seem to be abating a bit. We’ve switched his Wii day to the days when April comes. Usually, he can get so focused on the game he’s playing, that we can take care of the infusion and he hardly notices that April is there.

I’ve been spending more time with Caitlin, too. She has preferred my company lately to Lesley’s, becoming something of a daddy’s girl much to Lesley’s chagrin. She wants me to cuddle with her as she goes to sleep at night, wants to sit on my lap during supper, and wants to play Candy Land and Shoots and Ladders with me. I give her as much attention as I can.

Lesley, likewise, has been making more of an effort to meet with and be with Jacob and Caitlin in their own right. This is something about which Lesley and I have talked a lot. We are trying to let Jacob be Jacob, and to know that is pretty awesome. We want Caitlin to be Caitlin, and to know that she is beautiful and good because she is Caitlin.

I want Jacob and Caitlin to know that they are good in and of themselves, not only in their relationship with Nathaniel. Lesley and I want Jacob and Caitlin to know that they are important to us because they are important to us. Lesley and I want Jacob and Caitlin to know that we love them deeply, just as much as we love Nathaniel, not because of what they do for Nathaniel.

I don’t want Jacob and Caitlin growing up with resentment towards their brother because he got all the attention, or believing that they need to be sick in order to get attention themselves.

So, Nathaniel demands A LOT of attention. And we have 2 other beautiful children who need attention, too. And it is very easy to let the 2 other beautiful children “take care of themselves” in favor of Nathaniel’s immediate needs.

This is not an easy problem to solve. It’s one of those that demands moment by moment awareness. It’s one that requires that we as parents be in tune with the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) cues our children give us. It’s one that requires faith.

I go back to what I wrote in an earlier post. I’m becoming more and more aware of my own inadequacy as a parent. I don’t know what my children need all the time. So I walk by faith. I believe that God will guide Lesley and me. I believe that God has given us all 3 of our children as beautiful gifts. I believe He will not abandon us to walk this road alone.

Lesley and I know that we need to address Jacob and Caitlin as Jacob and Caitlin, not merely as Nathaniel’s big brother and big sister. Doing that, with Nathaniel’s special health needs, is very hard, time consuming, and sometimes exhausting. Jacob and Caitlin are worth the effort, though.

I mean, they’re a couple of pretty freakin’ awesome kids.

I Never Want To Go Through That Again

2011-12-14T10:17:00.000-06:00

During Nathaniel’s hospital stay, we had a very frank conversation with Dr. Acton, Nathaniel’s pulmonologist, about the possibility of Nathaniel having Cystic Fibrosis. The symptoms of CF are: 1. very salty tasting skin, 2. persistent coughing at times producing phlegm, 3. frequent lung infections like pneumonia or bronchitis, 4. wheezing or shortness of breath, 5. poor growth/weight gain in spite of good appetite, 6. frequent greasy or bulky stools, or difficulty with bowel movements, and 7. small growths in the nose called fleshy polyps.

Of those 7 symptoms, Nathaniel has 5. When he exerts himself, he sweats profusely, and his sweat is so salty that when it dries, it actually leaves a filmy residue on his skin. Salty skin. He coughs incessantly. He has had lung infections, considering the severe pneumonia he had a couple of weeks after his birth that caused his lung to collapse and the ongoing breathing issues with which he’s struggled. His wheezing sometimes is so loud that it can be heard from another room in the house. He’s a tank, so number 5 is ruled out. He doesn’t have so much the greasy, bulky stools, but he has very difficult bowel movements, and at times will go up to a week without pooping.

When we had the conversation with Dr. Acton, I could see the concern on his face, especially after I mentioned to him that his sweat seemed excessively salty to me. He told us that he would be tested the following morning with the golden measure “sweat test.” If Nathaniel’s sweat were excessively salty, that would be a positive test result.

I went home that night and researched CF. Nothing I read filled me with a lot of confidence. By 11:30 pm that night, I was so worried about this that I was literally physically sick. I went into the bathroom, threw up, and then I wrote the following:

I guess I'm preparing for the worst. Not really hoping for the best. I will not be surprised if the test comes back positive.

There was a time when a person with CF would not be expected to make it to kindergarten. Medical advances and better treatments have extended CF patients' lives into their 30's, sometimes early 40's. It depends on the severity level. Today, 45% of all people with CF are 18 years old or older. These statistics and information all came from the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation's website.

I'm beginning to think about what it will be like to have to bury my son. It might not happen for 40 years, but there is a level of certainty that comes from my gut that I will watch my son die.

After that last sentence, I could not write anymore.

Needless to say: I was a wreck that night.

I never want to go through that again.

But the reality is Nathaniel has severe hemophilia. Even with the factor infusions that he’s going to receive, there is no guarantee. A trauma (like a minor car accident) that might just mildly injure someone could cause in him a bleed severe enough to kill him. Teething could cause severe bleeds. He’s got 2 very active older siblings, with whom he’s going to try to keep up as they climb and jump and fall and sword fight with baseball bats. One good whack to the head could do him in.

There’s still a good chance just with the hemophilia that I will watch my son die.

I could say, “Been there, done that.” The night of July 3 to the morning of July 4. I have no doubt that night that Nathaniel could see the angels gathering around him to welcome him to heaven. We got to the ER before midnight, and it was 4:30 or 5 in the morning before we were told that our little boy was going to live. I’ve had nightmares about that night.

The Sunday immediately after that night, there was a baptism at Church. I dreamed that night that the baby that was baptized at Church was dead.

I have nightmares about it still.

I never want to go through that again, either.

But what do I do with this ongoing fear that Nathaniel will die before I do?

Why is it so different than the knowledge that my grandfather has terminal cancer? When I think about my Papa going to meet the Lord, I’m hurt, but I’m at peace. I’ve said all the things that I feel like I’ve needed to say. Our relationship is fulfilled. He knows that I love him and I’m at peace with his journey.

Maybe it’s the fear of the loss of the possibilities. Nathaniel’s life could be gone in 80 years, or it could be gone tomorrow. That doesn’t make him all that different than anybody else, really. Nathaniel forces me to look at the reality that life is fragile.

We, all of us, hang by a thread to things that could be gone to us in the blink of an eye. How empty the pursuit of these earthly things seems to me. How futile. What a monumental waste of time to spend our efforts and energy on anything other than that which will endure for eternity. “Do not store for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy, and thieves can break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” Matthew 6:19-21.

And yet, I’m confronted by the practicality of living this life. If I give up the useless phone conferences at work over the changes they want to make in our client documentation computer program, I’d lose my job. Useless to the pursuit of the spiritual and eternal, but necessary if I’m going to put food on the table for my family. Providing for my family, though, is spiritual and eternal. I’m fulfilling the vocation to which God has called me as a husband and father.

In this context, the mundane, seemingly useless things in life become highly important. I sacrifice out of love for the greater good of my family this time and these efforts on activities that are mundane, useless, boring. By making this sacrifice, I provide for my family, and thus fulfill my spiritual calling.

It is in what we sacrifice here on earth that we store up our treasure in heaven.

Odds are that I am going to have to bury my son someday. God, please, if that time comes, please help me to offer him in a spirit of sacrifice, so that he will be among my treasures when I enter into eternity.

But, God, honestly, I never want to go through that again.

How Government Intrusion Hurts Small Businesses, Consumers: A Case Study

2011-12-08T07:14:00.000-06:00

I don't know if it's really a case study, but it's a catchy title.

I've been noticing a lot more gas stations and other places putting up signs that say things like, "$0.35 charge on all debit/credit card purchases under [a specified amount]." I've also seen, "Cash only for purchases under [again, a specified amount]." I've been wondering what the heck's happening. Well, I got some information that makes it all clear.

Earlier this year, the government passed legislation aimed at "levelizing the playing field" regarding Visa and Mastercard. Basically, the law, which took effect on October 1, 2011, capped the amount of money that Visa and Mastercard are allowed to charge businesses for the use of their product, the credit and debit cards we have all come to know and love. The idea was "to protect" businesses from being gauged by Visa and Mastercard.

Well, Visa and Mastercard responded. These companies had been in the habit of giving discounted rates to small businesses like quick stop gas stations and coffee shops, beauty salons, privately owned restaurants, etc. When Visa and Mastercard could no longer charge the amount to big businesses like Walmart and McDonald's that they had been charging, they needed to make up the lost revenue to maintain their operating costs, so they discontinued the discounts they offered to small businesses. Now every business, whether it's a small coffee shop or McDonald's McCafe, Walmart or the local family owned grocer, have to pay the same percentage on every purchase.

Small businesses are now being forced to pay more to Visa and Mastercard than they were paying prior to this law taking effect. So the small businesses have to adjust in order to make up their lost revenue (the extra money they are now having to pay) to maintain their operating costs. So the small businesses are passing along this cost to the consumer, either by charging a fee or only accepting cash for small purchases.

Consumers don't like this. I don't like it. Why should I have to pay more money to use my money? So consumers are not going to small businesses anymore. They are going to McDonald's for their latte's (which you know is a desperate thing because McDonald's lattes suck). They are going to the big grocery stores when they just need to pick up that gallon of milk. They are going to big businesses, who can afford the loss on the credit or debit card purchase.

This is a perfect example of how government intrusion into the free market actually hurts small businesses and, ultimately, you and me as consumers. We seriously need to think about where our government is going, and who we vote into leadership. I'm becoming more and more libertarian.

I'm also standing more and more firmly with Henry David Thoreau:

"I HEARTILY ACCEPT the motto, — 'That government is best which governs least'; and I should like to see it acted up to more rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this, which also I believe, — 'That government is best which governs not at all'; and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have."

The less government intrudes in our lives, the better we will all be.

Treatment Is A Partnership

2011-11-30T08:28:00.002-06:00

If you’ve followed on facebook, you know of my experience at the urgent care facility. Nathaniel was having a pretty severe leg bleed, and our hemophilia doc decided he really needed multiple infusions over a couple of days. He received his first on Saturday. Once again, shout out to our dear friend Erin for her support that day.

Nathaniel is a hard stick, as far as IV’s go. The poor kid has been pricked and poked and punctured so much, that finding a vein that isn’t scarred or doesn’t collapse when they get the needle in is very difficult. This means that he usually needs to be poked multiple times in multiple veins before they get an IV that’s usable. Once he gets the IV, it’s usually a pretty quick process. It takes longer to find a vein and get him stuck than it does to give him the clotting factor.

So he gets the clotting factor on Saturday, which we were able to do at home (barely). The bleed didn’t get larger, but by Monday morning, it hadn’t shown any signs of reducing in size either, which is the indicator that the bleed has actually stopped. This isn’t unusual. Depending on the severity of the particular bleed, sometimes it takes multiple doses of the clotting factor to stop it.

By Monday, late afternoon, Lesley and the hemophilia treatment team decided another dose would be beneficial. By then, it was too late to get Nathaniel into the Hemophilia Treatment Center (HTC, for short), so she needed to take him to the urgent care at the Women’s and Children’s hospital. No problem.

She drives up. They admit him. It takes a few sticks, but they finally get the IV in a vein. They give him the clotting factor. Lesley and Nathaniel come home. It really should be that simple.

Tuesday, Lesley is in communication with the hemophilia treatment team. The bleed in his leg seems to be getting better, but not much progress, so they decide one more infusion. Once again, by the time they make the decision, it is too late to get him into the HTC, so back to the urgent care we go.

I called on my way, stating that the hemophilia doc wanted an IV run so that he could get another dose of the clotting factor. “We’re expecting you,” they said, “your wife called earlier saying you were bringing him.” Cool, this should go pretty easily.

We get there around 5:30. It took 4 sticks in 4 different veins, but on the 4th stick they got him in a vein in his ankle around 5:40. They taped it up. It was actually time for Nathaniel to receive one of his breathing treatments, so the urgent care doc took a listen to his lungs, agreed he needed one, and gave it to him. Wow. That was easy. We were waiting for them to come in and give him the factor. I mentioned to the nurse that Nathaniel has a history of digging out his IV’s, especially the ones in his feet and ankles, by rubbing his other foot against them until they come out. I told her that we needed to give him the clotting factor fairly quickly before he got it out.

“Oh,” she said, “it’s taped up too well. He won’t get it out.” That was at 6:00.

The doc came in to check on us. I told him that Nathaniel in the past has gotten his IV’s out by rubbing his feet together, and that we needed to get the clotting factor in quickly before he dug out the IV.

“He won’t dig it out,” the doc said, “it’s all taped up.” That was at 6:30.

Let me interrupt for a moment by describing Nathaniel’s desire to get his IV’s out of his skin. We went to the HTC when Nathaniel was having his thigh bleed. He was going to need multiple infusions for that one, so they decided to leave the IV in overnight. They taped all the way around his foot, where the IV was, then wrapped wash cloths around it, and taped those around it, as well. It was basically a cast on his leg.

The little bugger dug his feet together, kicked his leg like a horse, and dug his feet together some more, until sometime in the night while we were sleeping, he had gotten through the taped wash cloths, through the taped gauze, and through the tape around the IV, and dug the thing out of his foot.

He doesn’t like having IV’s in his body.

The doc at the urgent care told me he wasn’t particularly convinced that Nathaniel needed the factor, and that he wanted to confer with Dr. Gruner (the hemophilia doc) before giving it to him.

HE HAS THE IV!!! WHAT THE HELL?!!!

Let me explain: Giving clotting factor to a hemophiliac is not going to hurt him. As a matter of fact, if it isn’t needed to stop a bleed, then it actually works as a proactive preventative measure.

Give him the freakin’ factor so we can go home.

So we’ve been there an hour at this point with a needle in my boy’s ankle. The doc doesn’t want to give him the factor because he’s not sure it’s necessary. I wanted to ask the doctor how often he has to manage a hemophiliac’s healthcare, because I have to do it daily. While I know the doc has a heck of a lot of knowledge that I don’t have, this is one area where I think I may actually know more than the doc.

Another nurse comes in the room. Same exchange. Me: We need to do this quickly, blah, blah, blah. Nurse: He won’t dig it out, blah, blah, blah. This was at 7:20.

7:30, we’ve been there 2 hours, 1 hour and 50 minutes of which Nathaniel’s had a needle in his ankle. I had covered him with a blanket to keep him warm. He gives a nice hard kick and…

Blood everywhere.

I swore as I swung open the door, then I yelled down the hallway because there wasn’t anybody in sight, “He got his IV out and there’s blood all over everything.” Then I went back to Nathaniel and grabbed the blanket to hold pressure on the IV site to try stop the bleeding.

A nurse came running, one of the ones I had told earlier about him digging it out if we didn’t act quickly. Not an apology. Not an, “I’m an arrogant butthead who doesn’t listen to my patients.” Nothing. She goes to work cleaning him up as I continue to hold pressure on the IV site. The dose of clotting factor he had gotten the day before was apparently working, because after several long minutes of pressure, the bleeding at the IV site finally stopped.

They called back the nurse who had gotten the vein 2 hours ago. I told him I was pissed. I told him that I had warned them that he would dig it out if we didn’t give him the factor quickly. He didn’t really say anything.

3 more attempts at a vein somewhere on the little guy’s body, and on the 3rd try they got him in the hand. They got the IV in, gave him the factor, and told us we were ok to go home now. From when the nurse came in to stick him again to when they told us we could leave took about 15 minutes.

Unbelievable.

I work in the mental health/substance abuse side of health care. I know that there are many times that patients don’t know what they really need to make them better. That’s why we seek out health professionals. Sometimes, we don’t have the knowledge or the insight to know what really might be wrong with us or how to fix it.

But sometimes we do.

Treatment, all treatment whether it’s physical health, mental health, or substance abuse, all treatment is a cooperation between the one receiving treatment and the one providing treatment. That means we need to listen to each other. There is a real arrogance in the health treatment field among providers. Some providers believe that they have all of the answers and the patient needs to sit there and take what is given. This is a bunch of crap.

In Nathaniel’s case, we know what is wrong, and we know how to fix it. We just need someone to run an IV for us. Lesley and I have even been shown how to mix up the factor, get it into the syringe, and administer ourselves. We just need an IV to do it.

If they had listened to me last night, Nathaniel would not have been stuck an extra 3 times. Their arrogance cost Nathaniel the pain of being punctured again, and cost my family valuable time together.

We were warned that we would have to battle with medical personnel about what our son needs when we take him to seek medical help. I thought, “Oh, it can’t be that bad.” But it is. It’s frustrating. It’s painful (for Nathaniel especially, but for the rest of the family, as well, who are going through this with him.) And sometimes, it’s humiliating.

Being a provider of mental health/substance abuse services, I have resolved to be on constant guard against this arrogance in my own approach to my clients. Being a receiver of health services, I have resolved to confront it directly whenever I experience it from my providers, especially when it involves my children.

The Cloud of Uncertainty

2011-11-07T20:51:00.000-06:00

I've always been of the opinion that babies were easy. If a baby's upset, it's basically one of three things: either the diaper needs to be changed, the belly's hungry, or the kid is tired. Anytime the baby's upset, you address these three things in order, and you have what is basically a happy baby. Fevers and rashes are the exception, in which case you usually seek medical attention by calling your pediatrician. No big deal, a quick visit to the doctor, administer some meds, and bottaboom-bottabang, you're back to the basic three.

Nathaniel has been a whole other ball of wax.

For example, our latest stint in the hospital. We decided it would be easier to have Nathaniel receive his 4 month vaccinations while in the hospital. He was in the hospital due to the compromised condtion of his lungs. Jacob brought home a cold several weeks ago, and Nathaniel picked it up. We were pretty sure he was over the cold, but he continued to be congested. The congestion was getting worse and worse, and when we realized that his breathing would actually stop at night due to the congestion, we knew it was time to seek a greater level of medical care.

We took him to the pulmonologist who wanted to stress to us that he was not hospitalizing Nathaniel due to a failure of ours. No, he was hospitalizing Nathaniel because Nathaniel needed a greater level of care than we could provide, not because we had not provided the greatest level of care that we could.

So they did round the clock breathing treatments every two hours and gave him steroids (prednazone) through an IV. 2 days later he was back to the boy we knew. He was smiling, laughing, playing, and interacting, and most importantly, breathing like normal, or at least normal for him. We decided it would be easier to make sure Nathaniel got his 4 month vaccinations and a shot of Synagis (which protects from RSV) before he left the hospital. The resident physician declined to give him a shot of the blood clotting factor prior to giving him the 5 shots in his thighs. When we asked the doctor about giving clotting, the doctor responded that he didn't need it if he wasn't bleeding.

We went home Saturday night with what we thought was a healthy baby with a sore leg (due to the injections). His right leg started to swell. And swell. And swell.

By Sunday morning, the skin around his thigh was taut. Lesley called the hemophilia treatment center nurses, who told her that it was probably a reaction to the injections. Not to worry, they told us, it would go away in a couple of days.

That didn't feel right to us, but what do we know?

We called again later because nothing we did seemed to help or comfort him. Same response.

Lesley decided to go the ER. When she arrived at the ER, Nathaniel had calmed down (read "quit screaming") during the car ride from Jefferson City to the Women's and Children's hospital in Columbia. There were so many people in the ER waiting room that they were literally seeing people in the hallway. Rather than check him in, Lesley pulled a fast one. She called the hospital and asked to speak with the on-call pediatrician. She spoke via the phone and described the situation.

The pediatrician told Lesley that the swelling was a normal reaction in infants to the 4 month vaccinations. Not to worry, go home, if it doesn't get better in a couple of days, then you have something to worry about. Lesley came home, but it still didn't feel right.

But what do we know?

Monday morning, the swelling was worse. Lesley contacted the Hemophilia Treatment Center nurses and made arrangements to have Nathaniel seen at 11:00 am. I met her at the doctor's office. It was a brief examination. Muscle bleed in the right thigh causing severe swelling. Nathaniel was given an IV in the left foot, a shot of clotting factor, and had to have an ultrasound done in order to make sure that blood was flowing through the swolen part of his leg to the lower leg. The danger of prolonged swelling like Nathaniel was experiencing is a condition called compartment syndrome, which (simplistically put) is when the swelling causes compression damage to the nerves in the leg, which could lead to long term problems.

Well, the blood was still flowing, which rules out the possibility of compartment syndrome for now. The doctor wants to see Nathaniel again on Tuesday to make sure that his swelling has gone down and he is actually out of danger of compartment syndrome.

Put all that on the back burner for a minute.

There is a book that was written in the middle ages on contemplative prayer called "The Cloud of Unknowing." The basic idea of the book is that when we enter true contemplative prayer, we enter a space (for lack of a better word) in which "knowing" is impossible, and actually futile. It's pure experience of the presence of God. God overwhelms our senses so that we do not "know" anything anymore. All we are left with is an overhwelming sense of the presence of God.

That's where I'm at with Nathaniel and his illness and all the possibilities of things that could happen as a result of his hemophilia.

I have experienced a greater degree of self-doubt and uncertainty about what I've known as a father since the day I saw Jacob's little face when he was born. Everything I thought I knew about being a dad, and frankly has worked fairly well up to this point (judging by the feedback we get on how good our children are) is out the window.

Is Nathaniel's swelling a normal reaction to his 4 month injections, as the doctors and nurses (even the hemophilia specialists) told us? Or is it an internal bleed like my gut was telling me that could lead to serious, long-term physical problems?

Is Nathaniel fussy because he's colicky? Or is he bleeding somewhere in his body that I can't tell?

Is he drifting off to sleep because he's tired? Or because he's having a brain bleed?

Is Nathaniel's breathing getting worse because he's contracted a cold? Or is he suffocating on his fluids because he's bleeding into the lungs or as a residual effect of the injury to his lungs he suffered when he was just 2 days old?

I'm overwhelmed by how little I know, and I live in a constant state of fear that my child is going to die because I guessed wrong. I'm really, really scared of guessing wrong.

Terrified, actually.

I hate that old cliche that "God never gives us anything more than we can handle."

At this point, that ranks right up there with, "Everything happens for a reason." And if you want to know how I feel about that one, see my earlier post.

And don't go quoting to me 1 Corinthians 10:13 either. That doesn't say God won't give me anything I can't handle. It says that whatever God sends our way, he gives us a way out of it. And I know what that way out of it is:

It's Him.

In raising Nathaniel (and Jacob and Caitlin, despite my strong sense of self-sufficiency and delusional belief that I had this parenting thing figured out), I am completely and totally and utterly dependent on Him. That's all I'm left with in my "cloud of uncertainty": the experience of my own powerlessness, lack of knowledge, strength, wisdom. In my cloud of uncertainty where I do not know what is the right thing to do for my child TO KEEP HIM ALIVE, I can only depend completely on my God. I have no knowledge, no insight, no wisdom, nothing that I need to care for this child (or Jacob or Caitlin). I am naked in the cold and the dark with not even the vaguest sense of where the light is.

In my cloud of uncertainty, I have nothing except the experience of my utter dependence on God.

I am completely dependent on my God.

That's where I should have known I've always been in the first place.

5 Years Later

2011-10-21T09:07:00.000-05:00

I was eating lunch recently with my two counselors in the treatment center. They both know that I was a priest and am now a counselor, but do not know the circumstances that led to my transition. After nearly 10 months of working together, one of them finally had the courage to ask, “So how did someone who was a Catholic priest end up as a substance abuse treatment counselor?”

I responded, “I knocked up the organist.”

The other counselor spit out her food laughing so hard and the one who asked the question sat up, straightened her skirt, and said, “Ok.”
She didn’t ask me anymore about it, which honestly surprised me.

I’ve been away from the priesthood for over 5 years now. It’s been a while since I reflected on the fact that I was a priest, and now am not. (At least, in a practical way. I understand that once a man is ordained, it is for eternity, an “indelible mark.” I am not active in ministry as a priest at this time). Maybe it’s time I returned to the subject.

I knew, prior to getting ordained, that I should not get ordained. I can say that with as much certainty as I can say that I’m sitting in this chair. There was that still, quiet voice in my conscience letting me know that I was doing something I shouldn’t have done. So if I had this dictate of conscience, why did I get ordained?

Approval. Affirmation. There’s any number of ways to describe the fundamental motive. I got ordained because I felt by doing that people would like me. They would really, really like me.

I spent a great majority of my life seeking the approval of others. I wanted to be liked, loved. The time I spent in seminary studying to be a priest was when I felt the most affirmed, the most loved. Of course this desire to be affirmed showed itself in a lot of ways. I did some things very well. I wanted to be affirmed, so I was the best at whatever I needed to do. You needed me to preach, I was a good preacher. You needed me to be reverent, I was the holiest looking dude there. I was fairly well organized, so I was efficient; people knew they could come to me get things done. I was good.

This desire to be affirmed also meant that I did some things foolishly, even sinfully. I avoided confrontation, so I was never one to enforce the rules. I loved being the advocate, because I was able to be on your side, as long as you didn’t know that I really wasn’t advocating (because sometimes advocating meant confrontation, and I wouldn’t do that). This also meant that I was seeking affirmation in relationships in which I should not have been. And I hurt, betrayed, and confused a lot of people. I know it. The faces of the people that I hurt still float sometimes in and out of my consciousness.

When I left the priesthood, I sought counseling. I was talking with the counselor about this need for affirmation, and he said to me, “You had congregations, multiple congregations, which was hundreds or maybe thousands of people who loved you? Why didn’t you feel like that was ever good enough?”

It was one of those moments. You know the kind, the moments that hit us with clarity and change who we are. From the depth of my being, I heard my own voice cry out inside of me, “Because they’re not my father.”

My biological father abandoned my family when I was in kindergarten. My step-father’s love was always very conditional. I wanted the approval of a father, and I was seeking it everywhere else. The problem was, no matter how I sought it or from whom I sought it, it was never good enough, because it wasn’t his. This is not a psychobabble-blaming, poor me kind of thing. This was a real insight into a sub-conscious motivation into my aberrant behavior. When I gained this insight, it shed light on so much of what I had been struggling. It's not a blaming of my past or anyone in my past for my mistakes, but a consciousness and acknowledgement of a weakness in my personality that I need to guard against even to this day.

My desire for my father’s affirmation and seeking it from everywhere else made me a chameleon. I could change my colors and fit right in. I could be whoever I thought you wanted me to be in order to get you to like me.

That’s why I got ordained. I felt supported, affirmed, liked, and loved while studying in the seminary in a way that I never felt while I was not in seminary. This carried over into my priesthood. Needless to say, my house was built on sand. The desire for affirmation was not enough to be able to sustain my ministry or keep me faithful.

My relationship with Lesley was different. She was different. I’m not sure what happened. No matter what face I tried to put out there, she saw through it. She was the first person that I had met who could see through me. At least, I thought she was. She saw through the masks I wore, and she was the first person that I ever felt truly loved me for me, which was weird. I felt (wrongly because of my own “issues”) that others would only love or like the “me” I presented. The weird thing was, people did only like or love the “me” I presented, because I would not present the real me. It was a cyclic thing. I was frustrated because I didn’t feel anyone really liked or loved the real me. I never let the real me out there for people to like or love.

For whatever reason, I knew that Lesley loved me, the real me. This is why I loved spending time with her. I couldn’t pretend when I was around her. I had to be me, because she saw through all the pretense.

Our feelings for each other deepened. It sounds immature and cliché, but we fell in love. Being in love is not immature, though. It cannot replace the commitment of actually loving someone. What I’ve known for a long time is that while the feelings of “being in love” intensify and dissipate with the phases of the moon or whatever other influence is happening in my life, I choose to love her. Being “in love” is the romantic, warm fuzzy feelings. Loving someone is the committed choice to be for another. I make that choice whether I am “in love” with her at a particular moment or not. The times when I look at her and am swept away with that romantic feeling are icing on the cake. The commitment to share my life with her is the cake. Both are good by themselves. They are awesome when they are together.

Anyway, our feelings for each other deepened and we acted foolishly and sinfully. I had a conversation with someone shortly after I left the priesthood. This person was asking intimate and extremely personal questions about the sexual relationship I had with Lesley. This person wasn’t the only one who wanted details, but was the only one who came right out and asked me. I found that both Lesley and I became the centerpiece for gossip in Jefferson City, the (gossip) capitol of Missouri.

For some reason, people felt they had a right to know that information, and when they couldn’t get it from the source, they made it up. It’s no secret that our relationship was sexual. Lesley conceived Jacob. I can’t really hide that fact. Don’t expect to get any tawdry details of it though. If you’re reading this for that kind of info, you’re going to be as disappointed as if you had picked up Augustine’s “Confessions” thinking it would read like a true crime novel.

It’s been five years since I left the priesthood, but I honestly don’t think of it as “leaving the priesthood.” It’s been five years since I committed myself to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. It’s been five years since I started a life of authenticity. I’ve decided that my life shouldn’t be about moving from something, leaving something. Life is about moving toward something. It’s directed and purposeful.

I don’t feel like there is anything I need to hide anymore, nothing I’m leaving in the dark. Over the past 5 years, I’ve been learning to live authentically. Lesley and my kids force me to do that. Lesley always challenges me not to hide things from her. I still have that inclination at times. It’s deeply engrained into my being from my years growing up. That’s really more than I care to get into at this time. Suffice it to say, hiding the whole truth was so deeply engrained into my behavior patterns from my experience as a child that whenever I am in a stressful situation now as an adult, I default into that mode. I have to confront consciously, even to this day, the temptation “to forget” certain details whenever I have to admit that I’m not exactly the way I want to be, or have done something hurtful. Some wounds take a very long time to heal.

Through it all, Lesley and I have held fast to our faith. What else can we do? The Eucharist is the source and summit of the Christian Life. I was with someone on Holy Thursday this past year, and the person asked me why I continue to attend the Catholic Church when I can’t receive communion. I responded, “I know in the depth of my heart that this bread and wine become the real and true body and blood of Jesus Christ. While I may not be able to receive communion at this time, I still want to be in His real and true sacramental presence.” I believe in the sacraments, even though at this time I cannot participate in them. I believe in them completely and fully, having experienced the power of their grace not only in my own life, but in the lives of those to whom I ministered them. The sacraments are why I am Catholic.

I still cling to some of the ideals that I tried to live as a priest. For example, occasionally you will still see me dressed in all black clothing. The clerical garb of the priest, the “blacks,” was originally a sign of priestly poverty. Priests did not get paid for being priests. The only income they received was the yearly Christmas collection. Many priests were poor because of this, so they would buy the cheapest kind of cloth they could afford to make their clothing. The cheapest kind of cloth happened to be black wool, so they dressed in black. They would often wear white, linen undergarments because the wool was so scratchy, and would pull the white linen up through the collar so as not to get chaffed necks. Wearing black became a symbol of detachment from the things of this world. I still wear all black, occasionally, because I am a Johnny Cash fan, but more importantly, because of its symbolic representation of detachment from this world, of spiritual poverty.

One of the most annoying things about being “an ex-priest” are the people who think they’ve found an ally in Catholic bashing. It happens explicitly and subtly. Most recently, we had a social worker come to our house to discuss financial options for managing Nathaniel’s illness. He came with the nurse from the Hemophilia Treatment Center. He began the conversation by clarifying that I am the one who used to be the priest. Then he explained that he had studied in Catholic seminary once upon a time in preparation for becoming a priest. Then he proceeded to tell me that he left the seminary when the Church began clarifying its position against the use of artificial means of contraception. He stated that after studying the matter closely, he could not be ordained a representative of a group who had such a “foolish belief” as this. The arrogance of these statements always amazes me. Somehow this dude thought that his “study” made him wiser than the Church’s 2,000 years of experience of human nature and behavior, and smarter than the greatest theological minds that have lived for the past 2 millennia.

What bothered me the most is the expectation he had that I would jump right in to start talking about how wrong the Church is for this teaching. I stared at him when he brought this up. I refuse to respond to this bait.

There are so many people who, as soon as they hear I’ve left the ministry of the priesthood, think they can start Catholic bashing and I’m going to agree. So allow me to clarify:

I believe in One God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived of the Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. On the third day, he rose again in fulfilmment of the scriptures. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. From thence he shall come again to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, which most fully subsists within the Catholic Church, but that finds manifestations among all Christian faiths, and that consists of all people baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

I believe that the scriptures are the inerrant Word of God and should be held up in estimation as equal to the Eucharist, the real and true sacramental presence of Jesus Christ in our midst.

I believe in the Eucharist, Reconciliation, and all of the Sacraments of the Church. I believe that while God has bound salvation to the sacraments (specifically baptism), God is not bound by that, and can save whomever he wishes to save by whatever means he wishes to save them.

I believe in an all-male, celibate priesthood.

I believe in being prolife from natural conception to natural death, and that artificial contraception is an affront to God’s will for human sexual behavior.

I believe in the College of Bishops and the Primacy of the Pope. I believe the pope, when speaking from "The Chair of Peter" is able to pronounce infallible teachings on matters of faith and morality.

I am Catholic to the core, despite the fact that I cannot at this time fully participate in the sacraments. My personal situation and my sin, which places me out of union with my Church at this time does not make what my Church teaches false. I will continue to defend her teachings, because no matter what situation in which I am, Truth does not change. I believe in the teachings of my Church, and I want to be reconciled with her.

I am working on that, as well. I’ve applied for laicization, which is to be released from the promises I made at the time of my ordination. I made those promises and committed the sin of blasphemy in them. I’m asking for forgiveness and reconciliation. In my heart of hearts, I am Catholic. I know that there is scandal in my situation, and am seeking to be reunited with my Church. It’s a waiting period now. My request for laicization has been submitted to the proper authorities. Now all I can do is wait for the approval or rejection. Lesley and I will have our marriage sacramentalized in the Church as soon as possible.

So there it is, 5 years out of the active ministry in a nutshell.

I don’t at this time want to hide the fact that I was ordained and served the Church as a priest. I am ashamed of some of the things I did during my ministry. I am sorry to and for the large number of people that I hurt and confused. I ask forgiveness from them and from my Church as a whole.

I want nothing more than to be reconciled so that Lesley and I can again receive communion. We were married because we decided that the stability of even a civil marriage was better than having Jacob grow up with parents who were not married.

In my heart of hearts I know that I can stand before God and say that I have acted rightly within the dictates of my conscience since leaving the priesthood, which is more than I could have said while I was active in ministry.

For the past 5 years, I’ve been living with greater integrity and authenticity than at any other time in my life. And, because of this, I’m happier now than at any other time in my life.

That’s where I am 5 years later.

Anonymous Comments

2011-10-11T08:07:00.000-05:00

I recently had someone, despite the disclaimer on the side of my blog that I would not post anonymous comments, post 2 comments anonymously (At least, I assume it was the same person, as they were left on the same article at nearly the same time). I will not post them on my blog. I want to review, however, why.

I will not post anonymous comments for one main reason. I have an expectation that people take responsibility for what they say. The person commented that it seems contrary "to what blogging is about" that I should not allow anonymous comments. I guess that depends on what you think a blog is. For me, a blog is my way to communicate with others. If you want to communicate back, feel free, but take responsibility for what you say. I've had a really, really bad experience in the past with people being able to leave anonymous comments that were insulting, degrading, and downright mean. By commenting anonymously, they can say whatever they want to say and pretend everywhere else to be nice. I have no interest in allowing that kind of interchange on my blog. Respect is my number 1 rule. And it's MY blog, so I'll do with it what I want. If you want your comment posted, attach your name.

The person ended the critique of my decision not to allow anonymous comments with "Weak." I'm of the exact opposite opinion. Weakness is hiding behind anonymity so that you cannot be held accountable for what you say. Real strength is saying what you have to say and letting others know that you have said it.

I can only assume that it was the same person that left the suggestion that I blog about why I'm not a priest anymore. Suggestion noted. I'm not saying I will blog about that, but it is something on which I have not reflected in a long time. I've now been away from the active ministry as a priest for 5 years. Perhaps it's time to return to the subject with 5 years of family experience behind me.

Any thoughts (non-anonymously offered) are appreciated.

10 Decisions That Have Made Me a Happier Person (More or Less)

2011-09-28T14:19:00.001-05:00

10. I've decided to buy a lawn mower.

9. I've decided to be one of those die hard St. Louis Cardinals Fans that paints his face and says, "Well, we're in a rebuilding season," whenever they suck.

8. I've decided to carry an air pump in the back of whatever vehicle in which I happen to be. I'm sure Lesley and friends with whom I ride will be annoyed, but I figure an air pump is like a gun: It's better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it.

7. I've decided to keep a "to do" list. It will be a piece of paper folded into 4 quadrants. Quadrant 1 are things that are important and emergent. Quadrant 2 are things that are important, but not emergent. Quadrant 3 are things that are not important, but emergent. Quadrant 4 is a list of names of people out of whom I would like to beat the living crap.

6. I've decided that under no circumstances will I ever again end a sentence with a preposition.

5. I've decided to get one of those support yard signs that says, "SUPPORT YARD SIGNS!" The exclamation point is important.

4. I've decided that exclamation points are important. That one just came to me.

3. I've decided to be a pessimist. That way I will spend my days in a pleasant state of surprise that things aren't nearly as bad as I thought they would be.

2. All of those emails I get in which people tell me about what offensive thing this person has done and how this group or company is about to screw me: I used to reply only to the sender with the appropriate http://www.snopes.com/ article debunking the particular myth or falsehood the email perpetuates. I've decided to start hitting "reply all." This serves 2 purposes: 1) It lets everyone else who received the email know it's a bunch of crap, and 2) It embarrasses the sender (hopefully enough to stop including me on those stupid emails).

1. Apparently there a lot of people who don't know when I'm joking with them and when I'm being serious. I've decided to stop telling them. This gives me a sadistic kind of pleasure.

My Novena Begins

2011-09-21T07:20:00.000-05:00

In the Catholic Church, we have these weird things like novenas and octaves. For example, Christmas and Easter are considered such high holy days that the celebration cannot be limited to a 24 hour period, so we celebrate them as an octave. Each day of the octave, including the actual day of celebration and the next 7 days after (for a total of 8 days), is given the same honor as the main date of celebration. December 26, for the Catholic Church, is as much Christmas Day (at least liturgically speaking) as December 25. And so is December 30. The Wednesday after Easter is as much "Easter Sunday" as...well...Easter Sunday.

A novena traditionally has been used as a means of preparation. We normally celebrate novenas the 9 days prior to a special event. At Kenrick-Glennon Seminary, we celebrated the Christmas Novena during Advent, which were 9 days of special prayers and "para-liturgy" with music, scriptures, and spiritual reflections in preparation for Christmas. Carmelite convents often celebrate a novena the 9 days prior to the feast of St. Theresa of Avila, the great mystic and reformer of the Carmelite order.

Today, September 21, the novena in preparation of my birthday begins. September 21-29, I celebrate in preparation of the fact that I was born on September 30. Then September 30-October 7 is the Octave of My Birth. This may seem a little bit narcissistic and self-aggrandizing...ok, it seems a lot narcissistic and self-aggrandizing, but let me explain.

I did not have to be born.

First, God did not have to see fit in his infinite wisdom that I exist at all. I could not have done anything prior to my birth that made me deserve this special gift of God that is life. I can guarantee that I have not done anything since I was born to deserve it (and sometimes I think I've done things that should have forfeited it). God created me out of the pure gift of His Love. That's it. Bottom line. End of story. I am alive because God loves me. So my celebration is not so much about me as it is a way for me to call to mind the incredible gift of my God's love.

Second, Roe Vs. Wade was adjudicated in January of 1973. I was born in September of 1973. That means that my mother could have chosen to abort me. I don't believe for a second that the thought ever even crossed her mind. Well, maybe for one second when my 10 and a half pound carcass came squeezing through, she may have thought, "Why the hell did I let this happen?" But I doubt it. But the fact remains that she was legally allowed to make that choice, and she didn't. That, too, was a gift of love. Having seen my own wife go through pregnancy has given me a new appreciation for what a gift of love a mother gives during those 9 months, and the years following. So I celebrate my mother's love.

Third, everything in my life is a gift. So I spend the Novena preparing for and Octave of My Birth remembering the gifts I have been given, life, Lesley, my kids, my home, my next breath, by giving gifts. I try each day of the Octave to give something to someone. I make a conscious effort to find an opportunity to make some small contribution to another person's life. It can be something as insignificant as springing for a diet coke. Each day, I try to stay mindfully aware of the opportunities I have to give to another. "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8b).

So here it is: The Novena in Preparation of My Birth has begun.

I love the gift of my life.

Obama's Latest Failure Plan

2011-09-15T11:04:00.000-05:00

Someone made the comment after hearing Obama's "Jobs Plan" speech to the joint congress, "Why didn't he give that speech 2 years ago?"

I said, "He did."

Obama's stimulus package when he first took office was 800 BILLION dollars to be dispersed for building of infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy. That was when unemployment was still at 8%. By making these "investments," he promised to put people back to work.

Well, 2 years later, unemployment is over 9%, which his administration has said should be the new expected normal. He wants to throw 450 BILLION dollars at what? Oh yeah, infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy companies. I wonder if it will be the same kinds of companies like the one being investigated now for defrauding the government out of 500 million dollars by cooking its books. (And Obama's administration's blaming of Bush's administration since the application was originally received during Bush's term is so characteristic it's become cliche.)

Obama gave this speech 2 years ago, and his 800 BILLION dollar "investment" didn't pay off. Unemployment rose. Congress had to increase the debt ceiling to keep us from going into default on the 16 TRILLION dollar deficit. And the economy is less stable now than it was when he took office.

What makes him think throwing 450 BILLION dollars more at it will help?

Obama is a fool in the biblical sense of the word.

And, frankly, I'm tired of his lies. "It's paid for," he says. Then charges the "supercommittee" overseeing budget reform to figure out how. I want an iPad. I'm currently trying to figure out how to pay for it.Why? Because I don't have it paid for. If I had it paid for already, I'd have it already! Does this make anybody else mad? I mean, seriously. Why do I feel so alone in being outraged?

I hate to say this, but I had this impression 2 years ago. Obama considers money like many of the mentally ill clients I have worked with through the years. One of the basic principles of budgeting that I tried to teach my clients in community support work:

When creating a budget, you don't start by listing all of the things you WANT, and then try to figure out how to pay for it. You start with the amount of money you HAVE, and then figure out what you can afford.

I don't blame Obama solely for this. The government has been practicing this ack-bass-words way of budgeting since FDR. But at some point, the cycle has to stop. The government in general is driving this nation over a cliff. Obama is the latest in a long history of irresponsible managers. I will state Obama's has been the most agregious. He was blaming Bush when he came to office for the deficit Bush created in 8 years of office. Obama then created the same amount as Bush in 2 and a half years.

Obama's answer to the "revenue shortfall," increasing "government revenue." That means higher taxes, folks. Right now, the poorest 50% of people in the United States pay NO taxes. The top 10% pay over 80% of taxes. Obama wants to tax the rich.

Here's a simple question: How much out of every dollar that you make do you think you deserve to keep?

Follow up question: Why should that amount be any different for any other person?

I heard a statement recently that made sense to me: In the United States, the government is a collaborative work of the people. The government does the work the people have decided needs to be done. That requires the people to pay for that work. So I think we should take a step back from the debate about "cutting spending vs. raising taxes" and have a more fundamental discussion:

What do WE THE PEOPLE define as the work of government?

That's a question for another blog post that I will write soon. But for now, I can tell you this: the answer was adopted on September 17, 1787.

What's In a Name

2011-09-09T22:41:00.001-05:00

I work in the mental health and substance abuse/addiction field. Over the last several years, there has developed a new awareness of labels. Instead of "schizophrenic," we're supposed to say "a person with schizophrenia." Instead of "addict," we're supposed to say "a person with addiction," or "a person with substance abuse/dependence." Instead of calling a person a "borderline," we're supposed to say, "a person with borderline personality disorder."

You get the idea.

The purpose for this is to avoid a label which identifies a person as one thing, and one thing only. To call a person with schizophrenia a "schizophrenic" suggests, according to the argument, that the person is defined by his or her schizophrenia, and that is the sum total of what they are. Of course a person with schizophrenia is multifaceted. Many work, have families, enjoy hobbies, and are active in their churches and communities. The proponents of the label awareness group state that because that is not all a person is, we should not define them by that. They should be thought of as a person with an illness, rather than the illness itself. Another reason is that so many of these mental health and substance use illnesses have stigma attached, it's a way of combating the stigma.

I'm not much for political correctness anyway, but this is another example of the perceptions of some dictating the reality for all.

Let me reframe this: I can say pretty confidently that I am a husband. Does that suggest in any way that this is the sum total of my identity? I am a father. Is that all I am? I don't have to say that I am a person who is married or a person with children, to understand that while these are essential features of what make me who I am, they are not the sum total of my identity. I am Catholic. That's not all I am. That religious label leaves out the idea that I am male, that I am married, that I have children, that I'm a counselor, and that I ride a motorcycle. I don't have a problem saying I'm Catholic, though. It's part of me.

Nathaniel is a hemophiliac. It doesn't matter whether I call him "a hemophiliac" or "a person with hemophilia." What I call him has no power over who he is or over his conditon. Do I want Nathaniel to be defined solely by his illness? Of course not. But calling him a hemophiliac no more defines him than calling him a Catholic. They are both important pieces of his identity, but neither name him as the sum total of who he is.

Some would say that the stigma about being married, having children, being a male or being Catholic is not like the stigma attached to mental health diagnoses. I would argue that anybody that thinks there's not a stigma attached to being Catholic is kidding himself. And if you think I'm not stigmatized when I tell people that I'm a biker in a motorcycle club, well...you are more open minded than most.

Seriously, the real issue is not what we call people. The idea that a name gives to a thing its essential quality is called nominalism. This is a strain of philosophy that states (simplistically put) that we assign a thing its essence by naming it. We all know that what I call a thing has nothing to do with the thing's essence. It's just a word that identifies it. "What's in a name?" quipped Shakespeare's Juliet, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." What we call something has no power either to define or to change a thing's essence. If we perceive schizophrenia or addiction or hemophilia or down's syndrome or Catholic or Baptist or Republican or Democrat as negative, calling it something else is not going to change what we perceive to be the negative qualities of that condition.

The real problem is the attitudes of some towards those with mental health diagnoses, or physical disability, or mental handicap, or differing religious or political views. I do not believe we can change a person's mind by changing the language that we use to talk about it. I've seen it too often: the look that glazes over some people's faces when I talk about addicts. It doesn't matter to these people whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction." No matter what I call it, the negative response is the same. Whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction", they hear someone with weak will power who should just be able to quit. It even exists within circles of the same group. For example, I work specifically in methadone assisted treatment with opioid addicts. As soon as I say that, other addicts get a look on their faces like I'm a drug pusher helping an opioid addict stay addicted, just switching the heroin for methadone. Stigma exist. Changing our language is not going to help confront the stigma.

What does help confront and resolve the stigma is honest conversation. We do not have to work at word games. When I experience stigma against my opioid addicts because they are receiving methadone assisted treatment, I meet it squarely. I open up the conversation and give accurate information. So often the reason for stigma against something is because those with stigma are uninformed. Accurate information does more to dissipate stigma than any word games we can play.

How do I keep Nathaniel's hemophilia from being the sole factor of his identity? I put it in perspective. I do not deny that he has hemophilia, and I'm willing to talk to anyone about it who doesn't understand it (giving information about it). I also will not allow him to define himself by it. As he grows, Lesley and I will give him information about it. I like Dirty Harry's idea, "A man's gotta know his limitations." As Nathaniel grows, I will encourage him to define his own boundaries, his own identity. He will, slowly and in age appropriate ways, decide what his hemophilia means to him, and how it will affect his behaviors. My job will be to give him age appropriate information about what hemophilia is and what consequences his behaviors may produce. He will be free age-appropriately to choose what to do and what no to do, and he will be responsible for the consequences.

I'm already fighting the fight against stigma with some family members about hypothetical situations in his life. On what playground equipment should he be allowed to play? Should he be allowed to ride a bicycle? In what sports activities should he participate? They all want to define these according to his hemophilia. I prefer that he should define these according to him.

In the end, we cannot be defined by one thing, no matter how essential that thing is to us. I would not be who I am if I were not Lesley's husband or Jacob, Caitlin and Nathaniel's father. These are essential to my identity. They are interrelated. I would not be Jacob, Caitlin or Nathaniel's father if it weren't for me first being Lesley's husband. Neither of these labels, however, define me exclusively. If anything were to happen, God forbid, to Lesley, I would still be my children's father. The same is true of being Lesley's husbad if we had no children. One label is not the sum total of who I am. Nathaniel's label of hemophilia is not the sum total of who he is. A person's addiction, mental health impairment, handicap, religious or political affiliation is not the sole criteria of the person's being. So suggesting that using label to describe a person necessarily excludes all other possiblities of the person's identity is inauthentic.

In the end, if I don't like a label, maybe what I should be changing is my own attitude toward those with that label. It's a lot easier to change myself than it is to change an entire language. And maybe by changing myself, I might be able to help others change, too.

Wyman's Place in My Poem

2011-09-01T11:23:00.001-05:00

Edited: The parts in italics below I added prior to going through my prepared remarks:

I wrote out what I wanted to say today and showed it to my wife. She told me I was remiss in not mentioning one of her favorite stories about Wyman that I told her. I forget where we were, but Wyman and I were at a public gathering of some kind, and someone that hadn't seen her in years walked up to her and made the remark, "You haven't changed a bit." Wyman was very gracious to her, and when the lady walked away, Wyman turned to me and said, "I hate it when people say that, because it means I looked older than dirt 10 years ago."

I remember the first time I met Dr. Wyman. I was a transfer student in to Lincoln and told her I wanted to study English Literature. She asked me what my favorite poem was. I told her Good Friday Riding Westward 1613 by John Donne. She responded, "Ooh, I'm going to like you."

I can’t tell you how honored I am that I was asked to speak today. I continued to call Dr. Wyman “Dr. Wyman” after I graduated from Lincoln. She and I were eating lunch together one day, and she asked me about that. I told her that it was kind of awkward for me to call her Linda, but I knew that “Dr. Wyman” was too formal. She said, “When you think of me in your head, what do you call me?” I said, “Usually just Wyman.” She said, “Well then, you should call me just Wyman.”

You’ll have to forgive me, that’s still the way I think of her in my head.

Wyman had a love for T.S. Eliot. That’s no secret to any one here. I can’t help but think of an image that T.S. Eliot used when he discussed the great literature of the ages. He used the image of a book shelf, in which a great work of literature takes its place. Of course, when you add a book to a book shelf, all of the other books in the book shelf need to be adjusted. The great works of literature do not stand alone, but stand with every other great work through out history, and affect our experience of all of those great works that came before and will come after.

Another image Eliot uses is a “sentence that is right, (where every word is at home, taking its place to support the others).” A word is just a word, but in the context of a sentence, it creates a commerce with all of the other words that both receives its beauty from them, and contributes beauty to them, until they all become poetry.

That is Wyman. Wyman’s life is a great work of literature among the lives of others.

Wyman is one of the” words” of my life that has contributed to the beauty of my life. I hope in some way I was able to contribute to the poetry of hers.

She dedicated her life to shedding light on the great writers and people that had come before her, and has had an impact on all of those who entered her wake and followed her. I know that she changed my life. She introduced me to Dylan Thomas and Ezra Pound and to her beloved T.S. Eliot. She helped me understand Gerard Manley Hopkins. Funny story about that. We were in the Modern Poetry Class reading Gerard Manley Hopkins. There was a young student in the class who considered himself enlightened. He offered a veiled criticism of Hopkins’s religious themes in his poetry one day by saying, “I love what he does with the language of his poetry. It’s sad that the focus of his writing was so narrow.” To which Wyman responded, “God, man, the universe, that’s pretty narrow.”

It wasn’t just by introducing me to literature that my life was changed. My life was changed by her very presence. She was there for me when a lot of other folks weren’t, or probably more accurately, she found a way in when I wouldn’t let a lot of other folks be there for me. She touched my life more deeply than I have words to express. She was one of those types of friends that we could go long periods without seeing each other, but when we would see each other, it was like we had never been apart. After one of our lunches together, I went home and wrote a poem that I dedicated to her. I hope you will indulge me if I read it to you. It’s called “Being: For LW.”

In the little restaurant
At the intersection of Smith and Grace
The clock on the far wall was broken.
We appreciated each other's company
By choosing to fall
Into a comfortable silence;
To stare out the window
Which allowed the breeze
To threaten our napkins;
To admire how wise the sky
For being blue,
The trees for being green,
The poets for using rhyme
(Or not).
When we did speak, we spoke nothing.
We worked our lunch about our plates,
But that was the extent of it.
The smell of fried chicken still takes me there,
Like incense reminding a monk of prayer.

I wrote that poem after that lunch that day and brought it to her. She said to me, "Wow, that turned into poetry fast." I said, "Wyman, it was poetry all along." She nodded her head and said, "Wasn't it though?"
The restaurant at which we ate that day really was on the corner of Smith Street and Grace Street. That’s one of those” coincidences” that seemed to follow Wyman everywhere she went.

I was asked if I would close with a prayer today. I will, but first I would like to read in a spirit of prayer the 5th segment of Little Gidding, which is Number 4 of T.S. Eliot’s 4 quartets:

“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.”

Let us Pray: Eternal rest grant unto her, Oh Lord. And let perpetual shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.

Besides this, the only other prayer I can offer is one of thanksgiving that I was blessed to know her: Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to get to know this humble, beautiful woman. Thank you, God. Amen.

Freedom Isn't Free

2011-08-27T09:53:00.002-05:00

I've heard people say, "Freedom isn't free," in reference to the idea that we must make sacrifices in order to maintain our freedom. It's true. Freedom and responsibility are two sides of the same coin. In order to be free, we must be responsible. We must be willing to make sacrifices to meet our responsibilities in order to maintain our freedom. We cannot have freedom without responsibility.

The nurse who will be working with us from the Hemophilia Treatment Center came over the other night and brought a social worker with her. The purpose of the visit was for the social worker to discuss with us the various possibilities for financial assistance in paying for Nathaniel's treatment.

Nathaniel has severe type hemophilia, which means he will be receiving the blood clotting factor infusions 3 times weekly starting at about 9 months of age and lasting the rest of his life. As a baby and through early childhood, the factor infusions will cost about $600 per week. Lesley's insurance will cover the majority of that cost. At this time, and the numbers may be revised in the future, Lesley's insurance will cover nearly all but the copays. I believe at this time, our out of pocket expenses for Nathaniel's infusions will be a little over $100 per week, once he starts receiving the infusions. This cost includes the amount of copays for the prescription and office visits. As he grows into adolescence and adulthood, his treatment costs will increase, because he will need more of the blood clotting factor per infusion (prescription cost goes up). As he reaches adulthood, the cost of his infusions could reach $6,000.00 per week. Again, insurance will cover the majority of that cost, leaving us with copays, which will increase due to the increased prescription cost.

We thought the social worker was going to come with grant or scholarship information.

Nope. Not so much.

He explained to us that Nathaniel's level of severity of hemophilia could qualify him for Social Security Disability, which in turn would qualify him for Medicaid/Medicare. Then he encouraged us to quit our jobs. Well, not really. Not both of us. He told us that if one of us quit work, our income would drop below the limits for social security. We could draw Social Security Income (SSI) on Nathaniel, around $500.00 monthly. Due to our low income level, Jacob and Caitlin would qualify for Medicaid, as well. We would also qualify for EBT card (colloquially known as "food stamps") and also qualify for other government assistance programs.

So basically, his solution to the financial responsibility that Nathaniel's hemophilia imposes on us is to become dependent on the government for income, health insurance, and food.

Lesley and I discussed this...briefly...very briefly.

Allow me to repeat: We can't have freedom without responsibility. They are two sides of the same coin. When we lose one, we necessarily give up the other.

Lesley and I didn't see the option this social worker presented to us as a means of managing the financial responsibility Nathaniel's treatment imposes. We saw his solution as an abdication of that responsibility. If one of us were to quit work so as to qualify for social security income, Medicaid, and EBT, we would lose the freedom of making decisions about Nathaniel's health care (and in turn Jacob's and Caitlin's). We would also lose the freedom to choose the type of housing in which we live, as we would no longer be able to afford our home. We would also lose the freedom of choosing what types of food we would like to eat. EBT only covers certain types of foods, and with reduced income we would not be able to afford our choices. By giving over responsibility to the government, we lose freedom.

I want to be understood here. In no way is this a criticism of those who truly need government assistance. I've worked in the social services field for several years now, and have helped people obtain Social Security Income (SSI), Social Security Disability Income (SSDI), housing assistance, food stamps, and Medicaid/Medicare. I did it willingly and diligently. After my brother's motorcycle accident, I knew he would not be able to work for an extended period of time, and I helped him get SSDI. I was glad when it was awarded, because I knew he truly needed it.

One thing needs to be understood about these programs, though. Those who utilize these government assistance programs lose a certain level of their freedom. For example, I've seen Medicaid turn down my clients for Hepatitis C treatments because they were over a certain age. By relying on government to pay for their healthcare, they lost the freedom to choose which treatments they received. With housing assistance, I worked with a gentleman who was not able to move into a fairly nice house simply because the house had 3 bedrooms rather than 2. The gentleman moved into a 2 bedroom apartment for the same cost as the 3 bedroom house, and housing authority ended up paying the same amount. The man lost his freedom to choose where he wanted to live because he needed the government to help him with the responsibility of paying for his rent. I worked with people who were put on restrictive diets by their doctors for chronic health conditions like diabetes and high blood pressure. They could not, however, afford the food the diets dictated, because they relied on EBT cards and food pantries for their groceries. The costs of the healthy foods the diets dictated far outstretched the meager amount they were awarded on their EBT card, and the food pantries, which do wonderful service, give out mostly processed foods high in sugar, salt, and other preservatives. They lost the freedom to obtain the types of food that would be good for them because they needed assistance with the responsibility of paying for their groceries.

These clients that I worked with legitimately needed help with meeting their needs for healthcare, shelter and food. The government took the responsibility of helping to provide for these needs, but also took from them the freedom to make choices concerning their healthcare, shelter and food.

Freedom and responsibility: if we give up one, we necessarily give up the other.

What the social worker who visited us proposed was not to help us obtain assistance that we needed. What he proposed was that we put ourselves deliberately into a situation where we need assistance. Then we were to hand the responsibility of meeting our needs over to the government. Lesley and I are not willing to sacrifice that freedom, even if it means taking on more responsibility.

The fact is, Lesley and I are blessed. I have no qualms about admitting that we have done well financially with our work. We are by no stretch of the imagination rich. But we're comfortable. We will need to make some lifestyle changes due to the cost of Nathaniel's treatment. I won't be buying that Harley Davidson by the time I turn 40. I will stop going out to lunch as often as I've been in the habit of doing. Lesley just might need to start buying a few more generic items at the grocery store. With her insurance (which is very good), with our incomes, and with a few minor lifestyle changes, the cost of Nathaniel's treatment will be manageable. We have the FREEDOM TO CHOOSE what sacrifices to make to meet our responsibilities. We won't have a third party (like the government) making the choices for us. We will not need to lose the freedoms we have because we aren't able to afford the responsibility.

Should our situation change in the future, we may need government assistance. Right now, we don't. To put ourselves deliberately into a situation where we would need government assistance would be a violation of my conscience, an abdication of freedom, and immoral.

We are going to apply for disability for Nathaniel, but not because we have to. We are going to apply, knowing that we will not qualify for disability income for him. But that's ok. We don't need it. We will apply in the hopes that he will be granted Medicaid, but, again, not because we need it. Medicaid, in this circumstance, will act as a secondary insurance to our primary insurance policy. It will also give us peace of mind. If anything happens to one of us, and we need Medicaid to become his primary insurance, he will already have been approved. There will not be a lapse in his ongoing treatment.

Lesley and I enjoy the freedoms we have. We know they come with a responsibility, but "Freedom isn't free."

NBFFNB

2011-08-25T22:27:00.000-05:00

The first Motorcycle Clubs were founded in the late 1940’s by veterans returning from World War II. They were men who had been in combat. They had seen things and done things and experienced things that only other veterans understood. Those listening in from the outside could hear the stories, picture the images, and maybe catch some vague glimpse of emotion from these men. Those listening from the outside, however, could not in the fullest sense share the experience these men had. Only other veterans could do that.

These Motorcycle Clubs were founded by veterans who had tasted the thrill and horror of combat. They had something of a wild side, which was bred into them through their military training and experiences in war. It was hard for them to return to the mundane after what they had gone through. They needed something to fill that void of adrenaline rush that they had tasted in combat. So they rode motorcycles, raced them, got together for parties and weekend runs. They just wanted to be with other men who had shared this common experience of war and wanted to have some fun.

The idea of the “outlaw” motorcycle club was not a tag that was put on these groups by the police. It was put on them by the American Motorcycle Association (AMA). These veteran bikers would participate in and hold races that were not sanctioned by the AMA. Admittedly, they tended to be a little more rowdy in their activities than the AMA preferred, but, hey, they had just fought in war and seen their friends die to preserve our freedom. Who could blame them for wanting to blow off some steam? Their parties consisted of riding motorcycles, racing motorcycles, and alcohol consumption. It was bound to get a little rowdy.

The AMA, who didn’t like the fact that these clubs would organize races outside of their “authority,” quipped that most motorcyclists were good, honest, law-abiding citizens, but it was the one percent of motorcyclists who weren’t that gave the rest a bad name. Thus the “1%ers” were born. The “Outlaws.” Hollywood, beginning with Marlon Brando and “The Wild One,” ran with it. The image of the American Biker as an outlaw, someone outside of main stream, run of the mill, white-picket-fence-and-car-in-the-garage-America was born. And these veteran bikers loved it.

Society saw a ragtag band of bearded, unbathed, and uncouth men with bad manners and worse behavior. For the bikers, "the outlaw" meant freedom, the very thing they had fought and their brothers had died for. They became Robin Hood's fighting the oppressor; the Pirates sailing beyond the horizons; the Crusaders who would fight for freedom and wouldn't be bound by society's narrow limits and laws.

The original clubs were for men who had common experience surviving the horrors of war and earning the freedom just to have a good time. They got together with each other in that bond of brotherhood and had some fun. Nothing more.

That’s what New Breed Motorcycle Club means to me. I’m a prospect with New Breed Motorcycle Club, and I’m proud to be one. These men have invited me to get to know me, and let me get to know them, with the possibility that I can join them wearing the full patch someday. New Breed Motorcycle Club is a Clean and Sober Club, meaning that the members are in recovery from alcohol and drug addiction. That’s why they came together in the first place. Recovery first.

One can understand recovery by thinking of it as a program of self-improvement, but don’t let that analogy diminish what recovery means. For those in recovery, self-improvement is not a hobby, or a book written in pop-psychology that people read, get a couple of good ideas on how to reorganize their cabinets since the last book they read, and then put on a shelf. For those in recovery from addiction, this self-improvement means life or death. If they stop their program of recovery, they will eventually die. In addiction, there is no sitting still and being satisfied. There is only the daily work of moving forward and getting better…or relapse to death. These men are together because they need each other to save each other’s lives. They support one another’s recovery.

This common experience of having survived the loss of nearly everything (including their lives) (and sometimes multiple times), has drawn them together into a brotherhood. Their recovery means putting each other first. The reason they are club is because it gives them some ability to guard who comes into their brotherhood. They will only allow in and tolerate those who will participate in their recovery with them.

The men of New Breed MC have survived their addictions, bonded together to make sure they are all working their recoveries, and they want to have fun. They want to ride motorcycles, go to rallies, participate in activities, and do it clean and sober. They help each other do that. They help each other have clean and sober fun.

And I’m honored that they’ve invited me to be a part of it.

We are the “New Breed” of bikers, but really, our story isn’t that different than the story of those who have gone before us.

NBFFNB

I Forgot How Fun It Can Be

2011-08-22T11:27:00.001-05:00

Parenting, that is.

Everyone who keeps up on facebook and the blog here knows the ongoing saga with trying to get sensor probes for the pulsox monitor that both fit Nathaniel and stay put once we get them on. I keep telling the company that it's the sensor probes, not the monitor, that is the problem. They keep telling us that they can bring us a new monitor.

Well, this weekend, on Saturday, we finally ran out of sensor probes. We turned his oxygen level to 1 notch higher than the bare minimum we had been keeping it. We turned the monitor completely off. That was Saturday afternoon. When Sunday morning finally came, we woke up to find an alert, smiling, goofy little boy waving his arms and "ah-goo"ing. He was so happy. I'm not a medical person, but I believe the 10 hours of having the oxygen set and maintained at a steady level without concern of desaturation of blood oxygen content and being messed with and stressed out by having uncomfortable sensor probes sticking to him made a WORLD of difference.

And not just for him.

We all had a really good time with him on Sunday. We had some balloons from a welcome home present that Lesley's cousin gave us. We put the strings in his hands and he bounced those balloons around and laughed. We tried putting a balloon in each hand. Not good. A little over stimulation. But the look of absolute terror on his face when both of those balloons were bouncing overhead was HILARIOUS. We picked him up without worrying about knocking probes loose. He and I danced to the Hemophilia Rock song we made up for him. (We don't have it written down yet, so don't ask for the words or music.)

Jacob and Caitlin weren't getting shooshed away everytime they wanted to stroke his head and give him a hug. At one point, Nathaniel was laying on the couch, and Jacob had climbed up the back of the couch and was precariously perched back there. I told Jacob to be careful not to fall on Nathaniel. "Because he's so sick, Daddy?" Jacob asked.

"No," I replied, "because he's a baby." It was nice telling Jacob that his little brother was a baby, and not a sick baby. Made me feel kind of normal, you know?

Over the last 7 weeks, I've been so worried about Nathaniel, first whether or not he was going to live to see the next day, about whether we were just prolonging his inevitable death, about whether he is ever going to get off this oxygen, about whether the pulsox readings are right or not, that I forgot what I love most about being a dad.

It's just fun.

I went to Mass yesterday morning, and I cried in Church. I was at my wit's end with the whole thing. I prayed from that deep place, you know, "Deep is calling on deep in the roar of waters." (Psalm 42:8) I prayed for Nathaniel's healing. That prayer was answered. He still has hemophilia. He's still on oxygen. The healing I got was what existed between me and Nathaniel.

Yesterday I was able to stop looking at him as this sick little baby, and I looked at him as my son. I had fun with him. We laughed together. We danced together. We played with his balloons together. We teased mommy together. We even ate an ice cream cone together (well, I did most of the eating, ok, all of the eating, but he was there with me).

It was fun being his daddy yesterday. I had forgotten just how fun it can be.

Being a parent is "wonderful," "beautiful," "miraculous," and all of those other fluffy adjectives. It's also just fun.

I remember that now, and I suspect THAT healing is what will help Nathaniel more than anything else.

Missing the Trees for the Forest

2011-08-16T08:26:00.001-05:00

We've all heard that old saying, "He missed the forest for the trees." It's supposed to challenge us to keep big picture in mind, rather than getting so focused on the little things that we miss the grand scheme.

It's become painfully clear to me that if I am a "grand scheme person" in my spiritual life, I am spiritually blind. I can't see the trees for the forest. More importantly, if I'm busy looking at the forest, I can't see the path through the trees.

The wisdom literature in the scriptures present different concepts of wisdom. One of those scriptural concepts of wisdom that I have found meaningful and practical in my day-to-day life is that the wise person knows what is the right thing to do and the right time to do it. "For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. He has made everything beautiful in its time; also he has put eternity into man's mind, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." (Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 11)

It's always foolish to do the wrong thing. It is possible, also, to do the right thing at the wrong time. This is equally foolish. The wise person is able to understand that there is:

"a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace." (Ecclesiastes 3:2-8)

The wise person is able to find the right thing to do at the right time.

This frees me in a way that I have never experienced freedom. I don't have to worry about the big picture. My vision needs to be on the here and now. After all, that's all God sees.

God is the eternal now. Let that sink in for a moment. God has no future and no past. "He is who is." That's why God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. The difference between God's vision and mine is that for God every moment in history is happening right now. For me, only this moment is happening right now, but that's ok, because all I need to be concerned about is right now.

This may seem sheets to the wind, and a poor plan for future security, but there are certain things that I would like us to consider, like the lilies of the field.

"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, `What shall we eat?' or `What shall we drink?' or `What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day." (Matthew 6:25-34)

This sets me free, because I know that all I need to do is what is right for today. I need to seek the kingdom now. By laying the brick in my hand, I make way for the next one to be laid. If all my attention is focused on the next one, however, I'll screw up the one I'm working on now.

I don't have to worry about what is the right thing to do tomorrow. I don't have to worry about what is the right thing to do next year. I don't have to worry about who's going to get elected in 2012. I don't have to worry about if the stock market crashes, and what will happen to my retirement account.

If I am in touch with the Holy Spirit who guides me in my moment to moment decisions, then in 10 years, I will find that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing, with exactly what I need to do it. God, who sees 10 years from now as now, is preparing now for what I cannot see. "...he has put eternity into man's mind, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." (Ecclesiastes 3: 11b)

Here's a great mistake I made in my life. When I was discerning whether or not to become a priest, I had a still, small voice inside of me telling me that I should not get ordained. I spent so much time thinking about the future, and what ministry would be like, and where I would be 10 years, 20 years, 30 years from where I was, that I didn't listen to what that still, small voice was saying to me AT THAT MOMENT. If I had known then what I know now, I would not have asked for ordination. It was not God's will for me. I got so blinded by the forest, that I missed the details of the trees, which have a beauty all their own.

Right now, I am not called to see the forest. That's a vision that I will have someday in heaven. Right now, I'm called to keep my vision squarely on the path that I am walking today.

Practically, this is how it works. What do I do with my money today? I pray about it. That's always first. I ask God what is his will for me to do with my money today. God will guide me to divide it up between tithing, bills, insurance payments, retirement accounts, fun money. He will guide me into the amount given to each. Strangely enough, when I instituted this practice into my financial management, I've always had enough for everything.

I have a dear friend who takes issue with the list of priorities, "God first, something second, something else third." You can fill in the blanks. His issue is, "Why should I go beyond saying, 'God first'?" If God is first, and I am seeking what is his will for me now, God will tell me WHAT should be second and WHEN "fill in the blank" should be second. Because sometimes, "fill in the blank" will be third. "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well." (Matthew 6: 33)

I have to monitor myself constantly, because I want to know what the future will be for me and for my children. That's not mine to know. When I'm suffering, I want to know what great purpose this suffering may serve. That's not mine to know either. What is mine is to seek God's will for me now, and to believe "He has made everything beautiful in it's time."

I know that if I'm doing God's will now, He will make it all beautiful IN ITS TIME.

Rolling the Dice with My Son's Life

2011-08-10T09:13:00.002-05:00

Those of you who have been following on facebook know that Nathaniel was discharged from the hospital last Friday, August 5. When he was discharged, he was on 50 milliliters (ml) of oxygen support, and doing very well on it. The oxygen support runs in 25 ml increments, so ideally, we should have been able to wean him down to 25 ml, and then remove the oxygen support in a short amount of time, a few days to a week.

We left the hospital around 3:45 pm on Friday, with a portable oxygen tank and a pulsox machine (which is used for reading his blood saturation level known as the "sat" and his pulse rate). Around 6:30 the big oxygen tank delivery dude shows up with the oxygen concentrator for use at home. We hook up the oxygen concentrator, get everything going, and finally connect the sensors to the pulsox to get a read on how his sats are. For Nathaniel, sat numbers above 90 are considered normal. We couldn't get him to sat over 85. We messed with it for about 45 minutes to an hour, and decided to call the on-call numbers.

First we were given the Friday evening on-call run around. If you've ever tried to reach somebody who's supposed to be on-call on a Friday evening, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Finally, we got a hold of the doctor Dr. Sarah Smitherman (whom we have come to love) who was the chief resident on the pediatric floor at the Women's and Children's Hospital in Columbia that night. She told us that she suspected the problem was with the pulsox machine, and not with Nathaniel, so to come up to the hospital and bring the pulsox with us. We called Lesley's mom and dad to come watch Jacob and Caitlin and headed up to the hospital.

Dr. Smitherman hooked up the hospital pulsox to one foot, and our pulsox to his other foot. There was a 10 point difference in their readings. The hospital pulsox was reading around 94-96. Ours was not reading over 85. Dr. Smitherman got in touch with the home health company who gave us the pulsox. The guy from the home health service showed up and examined the machine. I expressed to him at that time that I honestly didn't believe it was the monitor, but rather the sensors that weren't reading him properly. He said he understood what I was saying, but that he didn't have the expertise to make that distinction. He gave us a new monitor, and several of the same sensors that we had to begin with, and sent us home.

All weekend, we watched Nathaniel's numbers bounce around. He would be 92, 94, then drop to 73, then climb back up to 89, then drop to 84, then climb back up to 92, then drop to...you get the picture. The whole time, all of the indicators that would signal that the machine was getting a bad read were pretty quiet. I kept thinking, "How could his readings be so inconsistent but the machine be picking him up properly?"

On Monday about noon, one of the respiratory therapists (RT) who works for the home health group came out to the house. They tried several different placements of the sensors on Nathaniel, but none of them were giving a consistent reading. The RT tried placing the sensor on herself and on Lesley. Inconsistent readings. She said, "Well, we could try ordering another machine, a completely different type, and see if that helps." Lesley told the RT that she would discuss it with me, and we would get back to her.

On Monday afternoon, we went to our family pediatrician, Dr. Weiss, for a scheduled hospital discharge follow up for Nathaniel. We explained to him that we couldn't get a good consistent reading from the pulsox. He believed us; that's why we love him. He offered to call the home health group himself, but we didn't have the number on us. We told him we would call as soon as we got home.

We left Dr. Weiss's office, picked up Jacob and Caitlin, went home, and Lesley called the home health group again. She expressed to them on the phone that we believed that the sensors were the problem. The guy came out, super nice, very kind, obviously concerned for us and our situation. He brought another of the same kind of monitors. I told him the same thing that Lesley and I had been saying for the past 4 days, "I don't think it's the monitor. The sensors are not picking him up." The guy, very nice, said, "I hear what you're saying, but I don't know how to get better sensors than the ones that came with the machine. I'm kind of just the delivery guy." He offered to leave us with a new monitor.

AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

He left.

At this point, it was Monday evening, and Nathaniel was starting to look pretty tuckered out. He didn't want to eat. He was pretty lethargic. I tickled him in the ribs, shook him (gently to wake him) and tried getting him roused. He just did not want to wake up. The whole time, his pulsox sat was bouncing between 92 and 81. Remember, below 90 is bad. Lesley called again the on-call number. We spoke to a pulmonologist. The doctor asked lots of questions, and asked us to pinch his fingernail. If you pinch your fingernail, it will turn palish gray, and then turn pink again fairly quickly. If it does not, there's a problem. Nathaniel's didn't seem to turn pink again. She asked if his fingers and toes were cold. Yep. She told us that the lethargy, the fact he wasn't eating his normal amount, the "fingernail" test, and the coldness in his fingers and toes made her think there was a "blood profusion" problem. She asked what his pulsox number was. I responded, "Which one, the one now, or the one 5 seconds ago." I tried to explain to her that the pulsox was giving us inconsistent readings, and we honestly have never had a good sense of what his sat was since we brought him home.

The doctor at this point responded to me, "Well, we may be blaming the machine when actually he is getting sicker." I wanted to reach through the phone and smack her. She hadn't been living with the uncertainty about how our son was responding to his oxygen for 4 days. And she has the nerve to say that to me.

To me, her response bespeaks an incredible level of arrogance. There are some, not all, but some doctors who rely so heavily on their equipment, that they stop trusting the parents and caregivers to know their children.

She advised us to go to the hospital because she believed he was anemic. We packed up Jacob and Caitlin and took them to Mima and Papa's. We made the trip up to Columbia. When we arrived at the hospital, we were ushered to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, where they hooked him up to a pulsox monitor. His oxygen supply level was set at 125 ml.

It immediately read 96. We watched it for about 15 minutes. It never went below 92. They turned it down to 100. It dropped for a second to 91, and then started reading consistently 94-95. We dropped him to 75. The pulsox number dropped to 89 for a second, and then went back up and stayed consistently at 92-93. We dropped the oxygen to 50 ml. The pulsox dropped to 88, and then went to 92. We dropped the oxygen to 25 ml, and Nathaniel dropped to 88-89, and kind of camped there. So now we know. 50 ml of oxygen is the real amount that he needs in order to keep his sat level above 90. That means for the past 4 days, we have been giving him more than twice the amount of oxygen that he needs. For the past 4 days, we have been terrified to drop his level of oxygen support because the machine was not reading him correctly. For the past 4 days, we've been telling people that what we are doing right now is not working, not that Nathaniel is getting worse, but that we are afraid to do what we were told to do because we can't tell if he's getting worse.

I want to go back to that on-call doctor that we spoke to last night and rub her freakin' face in it. "Can we blame the machine now?" and probably throw in an expletive or two. Doctors who dismiss their patients experiences because they are trusting a machine get zero respect from me.

One of Lesley's relatives, I think it was her grandmother, was born very premature way back in the early 1900's, before incubators, breathing tubes, pulsox monitors. Her parents kept her alive by putting her in a shoe box on the door of the wood stove. Her parents knew instinctively what to do for that child.

I'd like to think Lesley and I know what to do for ours, but I have to admit I've bought into this self-doubt that the machines will tell us something that we don't know. I know these machines' value. The doctors, using these very same machines, saved my son's life. But I also know when the machine is not giving me information that is consistent with what I see in my son. At what point do I stop trusting the machine and just go with my gut as a parent? Man, that's a gamble. Do I really want to roll the dice when my son's life could be at stake? Do I want to take the gamble in trusting a doctor who puts her faith in a machine that I know isn't working?

Anyway, Dr. Gruner, our hematologist who will be helping us manage Nathaniel's hemophilia, is going to go to bat for us. She told us we will be leaving the hospital today, but not until we get a machine that is giving us accurate information. This is twice that we've had to rush to the hospital, not because Nathaniel's health was in danger, but because the machines that we have been told to rely on as a guide for his improvement aren't working.

The most important thing in the end is that Nathaniel is fine. Blood counts came back normal. No anemia. Chest xrays came back clear. No fluid build up on the lungs. Oxygen level was moved up to 75 ml when he got mad when he pooped, which is ok. It'll get turned back down to 50 ml in a little while when he calms down. Sat levels are staying in 91-95 range. That's his normal for now.

And above all, when I look at him, I can tell he's feeling frisky. I know in my gut that he's ok. That's where I'll place my bets for now.

I Am In Recovery

2011-08-06T23:09:00.002-05:00

My brother has been CLEAN AND SOBER for over 3 years. I thank God for that. We've grown to a place in our relationship where I don't feel like I have to protect myself from him, emotionally, physically, financially, you name it. I truly thank God that I have my brother back.

He was at the house yesterday and was talking with me and Lesley. I can't remember the question Lesley asked, but my brother's response struck me: "No, I was an addict a long time before I started using drugs."

I've been thinking about that a lot since he said that.

I realized that I was, too, despite the fact that I've never been addicted to drugs or alcohol.

God diddles in our lives. No doubt about that. He puts people and events in our lives that protect us, inspire us, move us, affirm us, and strengthen us along the way. I believe this: God knew that if I had started down the road of drugs and alcohol, there probably would not have been "recovery" for me. I've always been a "balls to the wall or nothing at all" kind of guy. If God had not intervened and protected me, I would not be alive today. I know I'm not strong enough to go through what I see recoverying alcoholics and addicts go through to stay alive.

Addiction is a terminal illness. If left untreated, it will kill the addict. That's the bottom line. A lot of addicts don't get serious about their recovery until they've come to that painful awareness. They have a terminal illness. They will die from it. But treatment leads to recovery, and recovery leads to life.

I believe that God knows my weakness. I believe that he put people, places and events in my life to keep me from going down that road. There were plenty of times when I had opportunity to use, but something interfered.

An example: I spent the entire spring semester of my junior year in college seminary drunk. That was the semester my great-grandfather died, and I felt incredibly betrayed by God. That was the semester where I really confronted my fears that if God existed at all, I thought he was an abusive, manipulative, asshole who enjoyed setting me up for failure to get his kicks. (I have of course come to understand Him very differently since then, but there's no doubt my image of God the Father was formed by my step-father.)

One morning towards the end of that semester, I was nursing a hang over and a cup of coffee, thinking about when I was going to go into town to buy another bottle of cheap scotch for that night. A guy who I knew was connected with AA came over to me.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He asked.

I grunted.

"You know how to turn a cucumber into a pickle?" He persisted.

"No, I don't know how to turn a cucumber into a pickle." I was trying to let him know I also didn't really care at the moment.

"You soak it in vinegar," he said. "There's a long time where you can pull that cucumber out of that vinegar, and it will still be a cucumber. But once it turns into a pickle, it'll never be a cucumber again. And you don't know when that moment will be."

"Very enlightening," I said.

"You know how to make a guy an alcoholic?" He asked. I didn't really like where this was going. "You soak him in alcohol," he continued. "There's a long time where if a guy stops drinking, he won't be an alcoholic. But at the moment he flips that switch and becomes an alcoholic, there will never be a time for the rest of his life where he will not be an alcoholic again, and you don't know when that moment will be either." I didn't say anything to this. "I hope you think about that," he said as he got up from the table.

I didn't go buy that scotch that night. I didn't drink any alcohol again for probably 2 years. I can say that I've only actually been drunk 2 times since that conversation in 1995.

God put that guy in my life at that time to keep me from going down that road. I praise God that he also put the grace in me to listen to him. God also put dozens, maybe hundreds of people in my life that I may never even know about, who stepped in at various moments to keep me from going down a path from which I would never have RECOVERED.

What makes an alcoholic an alcoholic? It's not just soaking him in alcohol. There's a whole lot of other things that go into the thinking, attitudes and behaviors that alcoholics and addicts have. It's in their core, in their hearts and personalities. I believe I have those wounds, tendencies, weaknesses, "defects of character" in me. I believe God has protected me from drugs and alcohol, although my defects have come out in other ways in my life. I begin to recognize those defects of character more and more as I maneuver my meandering way through life.

So I believe (I hope that those who are in recovery from drugs and alcohol don't get offended by this) that while I have never been addicted to drugs or alcohol, I am in recovery. I am trying to work on those defects of character that have wounded so many people in my past, more people than I can possibly count, honestly. I know that I have left behind me a wake of wounded people. I am in recovery. Even the Alcoholics Anonymous big book (and my brother could tell you the page number) says that most people are sick, and only some express that sickness through addiction to alcohol and/or drugs.

I claim that recovery.

There's a myth out there that a lot of addicts join in as a way to keep them from having to work with "straight" counselors. The myth is that "If my counselor has not been an addict, he/she can't really understand what I'm going through, so there's nothing he/she can teach me." Unfortunately, that's a myth that many counselors have bought into, too.

With this myth in mind, many of my clients ask me if I'm in recovery. I've always wanted to say yes, but wasn't quite able to give that answer without feeling disingenuous. I claim my own recovery, now. Yes, I'm in recovery. Was I addicted to drugs and alcohol? No. Do I have defects of character that make me vulnerable to addiction and lead me to hurt people in my life? Absolutely, I do. And that's why I'm in recovery.

Observations on Infancy

2011-08-02T09:31:00.000-05:00

I am amazed that life exists.

I mean, seriously, it's a wonder we survive past infancy.

We've heard, "Well, Nathaniel's bone marrow, because he is a baby, isn't quite fully functional, so he's not making enough of his own blood at this time anyway, and then with the extreme blood loss he suffered..."

We've heard, "Well, Nathaniel's lungs are immature because he is a baby, and then to have an injury to them like he sustained, ..."

We've heard, "Well, Nathaniel's an infant, so the soft tissue around his heart and lungs isn't quite firmed up yet, so we think that..."

Throughout this whole ordeal with Nathaniel, I've lost count of how many times I've heard, "Well, first of all he's a baby so his (fill in the blank) is not fully developed/functional/firm/..."

It's no wonder the infant mortality rate up until recent history was so high. If so many of our bodily functions are not completely up to par when we're born, it's a wonder more babies aren't lost each year. And by "bodily functions," I'm talking about things that are kind of important, like, oh, breathing, heart beating, and, I don't know, making blood.

The ancient Romans would not name their children when they were born. The first born would be called "Number 1," the second born, "Number 2," and so on. They didn't expect their children to live past being toddlers, so they didn't bother naming them until they were pretty sure the child was going to live into adolescence. True story.

So, this past month (Nathaniel is now over 1 month old), I've been reflecting on how fragile human life is from the very beginning. As far as we can tell, his hemophilia was caused by a random gene mutation on the X chromosome. Weird. Something so little can cause such a response in the human body.

Life is fragile. This wonderful, amazing, undeserved gift hangs by a thread. I am filled with wonder and awe that it can even exist at all. Pretty amazing.

Observations From a Hospital Room

2011-07-26T21:44:00.002-05:00

1. Hospital time is not the same as time everywhere else on earth. 60 seconds do not make a minute, and, "Oh, about 15 minutes," actually could mean any amount of time between 37 seconds to 2 hours, 49 minutes (give or take).

2. I wonder if there is a reason the hospital room toilet seat looks like the silhouette of a cartoonish clown face:

3. There are certain people, not many, but some, who cannot get beyond themselves and their own feelings to offer real support. They turn the whole situation around so that you end up comforting and supporting them through your difficulties. I wish there were a way to tell those people to bug off.

4. It's really, really, really important to remember the power of choice. For example, I wailed in a previous post about how my family has not eaten a meal at home together in 22 days. It begins to feel like we have to be at the hospital with Nathaniel. The fact is, we don't. A nurse told Lesley that she had to inform a married couple that their child had a severe illness, and would be in the ICU for at least 2 weeks. The nurse said that married couple then went on vacation for 2 weeks. They left contact numbers where they could be reached, but were out of state for the majority of their child's hospitalization. The fact is, we're at the hospital so much because we choose to take on that responsibility. I don't think anybody would consider us bad parents if we decided just "to take a night off" so that we could both be home together for a night. Nathaniel is important enough for us to make those sacrifices. Knowing it is my choice actually does make it easier to carry the burden.

5. In the hospital, boredom makes even the worst movies tolerable:

6. It was a really, really good idea to put a Wii in every room.

7. People do one of two things on elevators: 1) completely ignore you, or 2) talk to you as if you've been friends for years. (I'm not sure there is a middle ground between those two extremes.)

8. It's a lot easier to say that you believe God is taking care of you than to really, deep down, believe He is.

9. In those fleeting moments when you experience that deep down belief that God is taking care of you, there is "peace that surpasses understanding."

10. Staying overnight at the hospital with a loved one who is sick allows one to take a vacation from the reality of one's own powerlessness over the situation.

11. Hospital food really isn't that bad.

12. Sick people have touched the elevator buttons, too.

That's it for now. I may have more observations later. It looks like we may still be here for a while.

I Wonder If We're Capable of Making Any Other Type

2011-07-22T18:43:00.000-05:00

Jacob at 1 week old:

Caitlin at about 6 weeks:

Nathaniel at 2 weeks:

A Gutteral Howl

2011-07-22T08:04:00.001-05:00

I lost it the other night.

We had been told that Nathaniel would be able to come home with us on Thursday, 7/19. He had been recovering from the pneumonia that had wracked his little body since Thursday, 7/7, when his lung collapsed. They had reinflated the lung, but by Wednesday, 7/13, he had not made any progress in being able to wean down from the breathing machine.

They also noted that he had been losing blood due to natural attrition. Blood cells die after a period of time. He was not making enough blood cells to keep up with what is lost due to the natural blood cell life cycle.

They started a round of steroid treatments on Thursday, 7/14, that were to "kick start" his breathing and blood production. It worked. On Sunday, 7/17, the doctors told us that his breathing was sufficient to pull the breathing tube. His blood production picked up. Tuesday, 7/19, they told us he was looking so good that he would be able to go home on Thursday, 7/21.

Wednesday morning, 7/20, he developed an inguinal hernia. We were told no problem, fairly common in infants, docs had to deal with these all the time in newborns. He will be scheduled for surgery in 2 weeks. Hemophilia doc told us he would receive factor 8 (the blood clotting factor his little body doesn't make) infusions for 7 days prior to the surgery, and there wouldn't be any complications. We could still take him home.

On Wednesday afternoon, he spiked a fever. They took blood draws and realized he had a bacterial infection in his blood. The bacterial infection was caused by having been pricked, poked and IV'd so much that a bacteria got in. It is unrelated to the hemophilia, the pneumonia, and the hernia. The doctors came in around 9:00pm to tell Lesley what they had found, and to inform her that the treatment would be a minimum 7 day round of antibiotics given IV, which means that we would not be taking him home on Thursday. Lesley called me to tell me, because I was home with Jacob and Caitlin. We told each other that we loved each other and that we would make it through this, no matter what. We hung up.

Then I lost it.

My heart screamed at God. Inside, I was screaming things that I will never repeat in polite company. Anger. Frustration. Exhaustion. Loneliness. It all came out. A gutteral howl of pain.

About 1:00 in the morning, I wept myself to sleep.

The anger is still there. Deep down inside, I still feel it. I'm trying not to take it out on people, like lightening strikes. I find myself feeling angry everytime I pull into the hospital parking lot. I find myself wanting to blame people, the doctor who did the circumcision, the urologist who sent us home that first Sunday, the ER physicians who were trying to save his life but didn't even recognize that he needed blood, the doctors and nurses at the PICU, who have been nothing but excellent and supportive, but allowed my son to get an infection.

I find myself getting angry at the wonderful family and friends who want to support us. I want to howl, "LEAVE ME ALONE!!! You cannot possibly understand what this is like." I find myself wanting to howl at people who want to say comforting things that only sound hollow to me.

I'm just angry.

Is this grief?

I've lost the last 22 days of having my family together. I appreciate people trying to comfort me by telling me that my family is together in my heart. Bullshit. I want my family together in my home. My wife and I have not slept in the same house for 22 nights. We have not eaten supper together as a family for 22 days. We have not prayed together as a family for 22 days. We have not chilled in the living room watching Strawberry Shortcake while Jacob plays basketball on the fireplace for 22 days. I go 36 to 48 hours regularly without seeing my beautiful Jacob or Caitlin.

I'm tired. And I'm angry.

And right now, that's the best I can be.

Harry Potter: How the Movie Missed It

2011-07-18T21:00:00.001-05:00

Spoiler Alert: if you haven't read the Harry Potter books or seen the last of the movies, I'll give away the endinng.

I'd like to begin by saying I love the Harry Potter series, the movies and the books.

I have to say, though, that I felt disappointed in the last movie. I felt they really missed the point. I don't really blame them. I think it's easy to get so focused on the idea that either Voldemort or Harry was going to need to die, that the true point was easily missed.

This is my disappointment.

At the end of the 7th book, Harry walks into the dark forest to sacrifice himself willingly and deliberately for his friends. Voldemort then has Hagrid carry the body out, where the final confrontation takes place. Before the final fight seen, Voldemort attempts to silence the crowds several times with a silencing charm, but for some reason, the charm just doesn't hold. Voldemort attempts to torture Neville Longbottom for his loyalty to Harry, but cannot harm him, even when he sets the sorting hat on fire on top of Neville's head.

Why were Voldemort's charms unable to hold the crowd or harm Neville?

Harry knows. Harry's mother sacrificed herself out of love for Harry, thus providing him with the protection that kept Voldemort from being able to harm him as an infant. Harry's willing and deliberate self-sacrifice out of love for his friends provided them the same protection. Because Harry died out of love for his friends, Voldemort's power was broken.

Ultimately, it became irrelevant whether Voldemort died or not. He could no longer harm those for whom Harry died. I wish this had been brought out in the film.

The Dark Lord's power was not broken because he died. The Dark Lord's power was broken because Harry died...for his friends...out of love.

I really wish that had been reflected in the movie.

I Believe God is Good

2011-07-14T20:02:00.004-05:00

I'm not one of those Polly Anna a-holes who believes "everything happens for a reason." People like to say, God is letting this happen for a reason. If you believe that, please keep it to yourself. In the state I'm in right now, I might just punch you in the face.

People say, "Everything happens for a reason," in a feeble attempt to ascribe to God the crap that happens to them in their lives so they can feel better about getting crapped on by life. I don't really want to be the disciple of a God who gives little kids hemophilia and nearly causes them to bleed to death.

No. Sometimes, shit just happens.

So what do I believe about the goodness of God?

I believe that God knows everything, and since he knows everything, he is able to put things into place that make us able to get through anything, "without men's every discovering, from beginning to end, the work which God has done" (Ecclesiastes 3:11b).

For example, the night we had to rush Nathaniel to the hospital, Lesley was completely exhausted, but "something" inside of her kept nudging her to keep her from falling asleep.

For example, Lesley and I found out that the team leader of the transport team (who was the first to recognize that Nathaniel needed blood) was the most experienced, most qualified, and most respected member of the entire transport staff.

For example, years ago, Lesley was taken by her family to a general practictioner, who eventually became our children's doctor. He will be Nathaniel's primary care doctor, too. This family doctor, our family doctor, has hemophilia.

For example, God has surrounded me and Lesley with family, friends, coworkers, club brothers, and a host of other people who offer so much support and kindness to us.

God didn't want Nathaniel to get hemophilia. God didn't want Nathaniel to bleed almost to death literally. God didn't want Nathaniel to get pneumonia. If you have to ascribe a reason for Nathaniel's illness, then the reason is original sin. All of these are the result of that original sin that separates all humanity from God. If we were in perfect union with God, Nathaniel would not be sick.

Nathaniel's illness is a result of the original sin. All of the good things we have experienced since finding out about Nathaniel's illness are gifts from God to help us through Nathaniel's illness. God was at work, even years ago when Lesley was still a child, putting things in place that will help see us through this. That's the goodness of God.

God cannot take away the cross. Suffering in this life is the result of original sin. So what He did instead was even more wonderful. He made the cross, suffering, our doorway to unity with Him, where there will be no more suffering. And he puts those people in place, the women of Jerusalem who comfort us, the Simon of Cyrene's who help us carry the burdens, and the Roman centurion's and the good thieves who tell us that they believe in us, to help us through the cross to the resurrection that awaits us on the other side.

It's Good Friday right now. It's hard. It's very hard.

I'm comforted by two things:

I am not alone. God is there, and so are those whom He has placed.

And I know Easter Sunday is coming.

In Sickness and In Health

2011-07-12T16:08:00.002-05:00

Jacob can be so funny.

Last night he was eating some waffles as a mid-evening snack (I am in the running for the Father-Of-The-Year award, and I'm pretty sure it's determined by the vote of the children?). Mouthful of waffle, he looks up at me and says, "Dad, I just don't know very much about you and mom's wedding."

I said, "Well, you were there. Don't you remember it?" He was nine months old.

"No, not really," he said, "maybe a little bit but not very much".

"I think we have a DVD around here somewhere of our wedding. Do you want to watch it?" I asked.

"I think I'd like that," he said, wrinkling his brow, thinking about it deeply. So we dug around until we found the DVD Lesley's aunt made for us, and watched it before bedtime last night.

I had forgotten that on our wedding day, I was sick. I had one of the worst cold's of my life. My voice was scratchy and crackly. I had difficulty breathing. Lesley gave it to me as an early wedding present.

It occurred to me as I watched myself say those words, "I promise to be true to you in sickness and in health," that the wedding vows really don't stipulate specifically who is sick.

I think often we hear those words (or speak those words) and interpret them to mean that we will care for our spouses whether whether they are sick or healthy. We are called to be just as true to them when we are the sick ones. What if it were Lesley's mother or father, or my mother? My vow is no less in force.

I'm sitting in the hospital room with Nathaniel, who is up and down. I am called to love my wife through his sickness, too.

I'm not sure exactly what that means right now, because I don't know how Lesley is going to need to be loved through Nathaniel's illness.

Isn't that part of the adventure? What an act of faith! Lesley believed me when I told her I would love and honor her all the days of my life. It's a good thing she didn't know on that day that I don't have the slightest clue how to do that. The other fact is, I'm very lucky, because Lesley is pretty good at letting me know how.

Ultimately, marriage is the beginning of the grand adventure. When husband and wife pledge those vows that day, they don't know what the future is going to bring. There's absolutely no way that I could have predicted having a child be as sick as Nathaniel is. But that's ok. My promise holds, and so does Lesley's. We will be true to each other, love and honor each other, in good times and in bad, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of our lives. We will teach each other how to love each other for the rest of our lives, and through anything that this beautiful, funny life might throw at us.

And that's very comforting to me.

The Whole Story

2011-07-09T20:18:00.003-05:00

This is more for my benefit than anyone else's. I've often found writing things out to be therapeutic.

Day 1: Thursday, June 30, 2011
Lesley said she had been having contractions nearly all afternoon, but didn't make a big deal of them. She actually saw our Ob/Gyn (who coincidentally is the wife of the doctor who would circumcise Nathaniel a few days later). Lesley told me that the Ob/Gyn was going to check on any dilation in the cervix, but stated that the cervix hadn't dropped at all, and so didn't bother.

After the appointment with the Ob/Gyn, Lesley and I went to pick up the kids. We went home, changed clothes, and took the Jacob to his swimming lesson. Before the swimming lesson, we ate supper at the Pizza Haus on McCarty. Swimming lessons over, we went home, gave the kids baths, and got ready for bed.

First I put Jacob down to bed. He goes to sleep by himself, but I usually lay with him for 5 or 10 minutes before letting him drift off. We small talk about the day and whatever is on his mind.

While I'm laying down with Jacob, Lesley usually lays down with Caitlin, doing the same. Girl talk and lots of giggling come from Caitlin's room. I went to bed and fell asleep by about 9:45pm. Lesley came in and I felt her get in bed with me about 10:10. 10:15, she rolls over at taps me on the shoulder, "Honey?"

"Yeah," I respond.

"My water just broke."

Race was on. Lesley got up and got herself and her stuff together. I went and got Jacob out of bed. I told him that we needed to go the hospital because Baby Squirt was about to be born. Jacob asked what was going to happen. I told him that Mima and Papa were going to meet us at the hospital and be with him and Caitlin, while Daddy and Mommy brought Baby Squirt into the world. He started rocking back and forth in his car seat, squeezing his hands into fists and kicking his legs. "I'm so excited," he said, "I get to see Mima and Papa."

Caitlin slept through it.

We got the hospital and Mima and Papa arrived. My mom, whom the kids call Mammy, came, too. They took Jacob and Caitlin out into the waiting room.

Lesley's Ob/Gyn came in, shocked that we were there since Lesley had just seen her earlier that day. The doc asked if we were ready to have a baby. I said, "Ready or not, here we go." Lesley asked if we could wait until July 1. The doctor just stared at her. Lesley explained that one of her best friends' birthday is July 1, and she would like to wait, if she could, so that the baby would be born on her friend's birthday. I explained that Lesley just really wanted the child's birthstone to be a ruby. Lesley stated this was an added benefit, but not her primary motivation. Well, the docs and nurses took their time, and eventually came and got Lesley to take her to the Operating Room.

I eventually got called into the operating room, where they had Lesley laid out like Jesus on the Cross, arms out stretched. They hung a curtain up across her mid-section. At 12:01, they asked, "Would dad like to tell everyone the sex?" I figured this meant they already had the kid extricated from Lesley's innards.

Nope.

I peaked over the curtain and the kids was shoulder deep in my wife. I got to see something that was slightly traumatizing, my child being pulled out of my wife. I quickly shouted, "It's a boy," and sat back down before I fainted.

Nathaniel was born at 12:01 am, July 1, 2011. By all outward appearances, he seemd perfect. When they took him to the nursery, I followed him as they stitched Lesley back up. In the nursery, the doctor and the nurse did the preliminary examination. "Perfect," the nurse stated. "Crap," I responded, "If he's already perfect, he's got nowhere to go but down." I was joking when I said that. Now it seems strangely prescient.

We finally got back to the room around 1:30 in the morning. Lesley's mom and dad took our kids with them to their house. My mom went home. Everything was awesome.

Caitlin slept through it.

Day 2: Friday, July 1, 2011
Nathaniel was perfect. We had a few visitors. People were very kind to wait to visit after Lesley had just had major surgery and needed rest. Uneventful, perfect first day with our son.

Day 3: Saturday, July 2, 2011. Started out wondefully.

Jacob and Caitlin and I spent the morning at the hospital. Around lunch time I took them out to get them something to eat and let them blow off some of their young, restless energy. While I was gone, about 12:15, the doctor came to get little Nathaniel for his cirumcision. About 45 minutes go by, and Lesley asked the nurse how things went. "The doctor will be coming to see you in a bit," was the only response she received. Of course, that set her mother's intuition into high gear.

1:30, still no response from the nurses.

2:30, no response.

About 3:00, Lesley goes into the nursery, and demands to be told what's going on. The doctor informed her that he had circumcised Nathaniel, but wasn't able to get him to stop bleeding from the circumcision site. They had decided to call the Women's and Children's Hospital in Columbia, and have him transported there where there would be pediatric specialists who would be able to manage the situation more competently than the they could.

Lesley called me. I had just returned and was pulling into the St. Mary's parking garage when the phone started ringing. She told me what was going on. We called, once again, her parents to come and get our children.

Lesley demanded that she should be discharged so that she could go with Nathaniel to the hospital in Columbia. They discharged her. However, the transport from Columbia would not allow her to ride in the ambulance with Nathaniel, so Lesley and I followed in the van, sometimes at speeds around 100 mph, in order to be there when they took him off.

They took him to the Emergency Room rather than the pediatric unit. A urologist arrived, who I have come to distrust inherently. She put stitches into his penis where the circumcision site was, and the initial evaluation showed that the doctor who did the circumcision had knicked a vascular gland. Because the head of the penis is such a vascular area, it caused excessive amounts of bleeding. The uroligist was ready to discharge us that evening.

Providence intervened. (That happens a lot during this story.) Lesley had tested Group B Strep positive, and the normal treatment for children who are born to mothers who are GBS positive is to observe them for a full 48 hours after birth. Well, because 48 hours would not be up until 12:01 am, July 3, they decided to keep him over night. They continued to repack the gauze, but never gave him a transfusion. They said they had slowed the bleeding to the point where it was no longer a threat to him. They sent us to a floor on the pediatric unit where we spent a very peaceful evening.

Day 4: Sunday, July 3, 2011

The morning was uneventful. We were told about 10:30 that Nathaniel would be discharged and we could take him home about noon. Noon came and went, and there we sat. The nurses continued primary care of him, but taught Lesley and I how to apply the vaseline seal and wrap him in the diaper to minimize the ongoing bleeding. Finally, at 3:30 in the afternoon, we walked out of the Children's hospital.

We arrived at Lesley's mom and dad's house to pick up Jacob and Caitlin. We changed Nathaniel's diaper about 4:30. There was some blood, but we were told to expect that. Mima held him after the diaper change. About 5:00, we decided to head home. When Lesley took him from her mother, Nathaniel had bled through his diaper, clothes, and basically covered the front of Mima's shirt with blood.

We didn't know what to make of it. My guess was that he peed, and because there was some blood, his pee had turned red because of the blood. Nathaniel's color was still good. He was still responsive. We changed his diaper, packed the vaseline gauze the way were told, and went home.

About 7:30, another diaper change. More blood. We packed the vaseline gauze the way were taught.

About 10:30, another diaper change. More blood. Except now Nathaniel was feeling cold to the touch and looking a little pale. We packed the vaseline gauze, put warmer clothes on him, and wrapped him tight in a warm blanket. Jacob was mis behaving pretty badly, so he had to go to be by himself that night. No daddy to lay there with him. Instead, I laid down with Caitlin and Lesley, who was totally, physically exhausted, laid down with Nathaniel.

I fell asleep in Caitlin's room with her.

Lesley, despite being totally exhausted, just couldn't seem to fall asleep. Another moment of divine meddling.

At midnight, Lesley came and woke me. "Will you come and look at Nate?" she asked, "Something's wrong." I went and looked at him.

Terror.

I've been with people as they were dying. I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my son was dying. His skin had turned snow white. His breaths were shallow and rattling. He was non-responsive, even to a pinch, and his eyes seemed to role into the back of his head when I would force them open. I knew my son was dying.

We called the emergency number we had been given for Women's and Children's Hospital. The nurse who I spoke to the first time told me to call the pediatric unit, and gave me the number. So I called that number, and got an automated answering machine. I cursed, and called the emergency number again. A different nurse spoke to me this time and I described Nathaniel's condition. She only confirmed what I already knew. We needed to get to the ER as quickly as possible.

I told Lesley to call her parents to come to the house to take care of Jacob and Caitlin and to get her things together. While she did this, I took Nathaniel into the bathroom and baptized him. I didn't want Lesley to know that I knew our son was dying, so I didn't tell her what I was doing. When we came out of the bathroom, Lesley asked what I was doing in there. I told her, "I baptized him." I gave him to her to hold at that moment. (For my reasoning behind having his mother hold him, see my blog below, Song of Songs 8:6.)

Lesley nearly fell down she began crying so hard. Lesley's parents arrived shortly after. Lesley asked if we should put him in his car seat. I said, "No, you hold him." Again, see my earlier post about that.

We rushed to the hospital, again, I was driving easily close to a 100 mph to get there. We arrived and the receptionist began walking us through the process of registering. At that point, a nurse peaked through and saw Nathaniel. She walked out, felt him, searched for his pulse, and said, very calmly, "We can finish this later, you come with me."

We went to the ER and within 15 seconds there were about 20 medical people gathered around our son. One of the nurses stepped back to us and asked us if we would like them to call pastoral care.

I cannot describe in words the stress of that night. I'm not even going to try.

I will say this, the normal body temperature is 98.6 degrees. Fatal body temperature usually is considered around 86 degrees (that' when the brain starts shutting down). Nathaniel's was 90 degrees. A hemoglobin count measures the number of hemoglobin proteins in your body that carry oxygen. A normal count will be above 10. 6-8 is considered critical. Less than 6 is considered fatal. Nathaniel's was 3.9. Hematicrit measures the amount of oxygen actually in your blood. A normal range is 31-55. 31-26 is considered critical. Less than 26 is considered fatal. Nathaniel's was 10.

By the numbers, Nathaniel should be dead.

Eventually, the transport arrived. The leader of the transport team, Louise, whom they called, "Weezie," took 1 look at Nathaniel, and in a kind of a "Well, duh," tone said, "This kid needs blood."

They gave him a transfusion of 25 cc's of O negative blood there at St. Mary's. It was like magic. His color turned pink. His eyes opened and he looked around with a "What the hell's going on now?" kind of look. He became responsive to pain.

They wrapped him in cellophane (I kid you not) to preserve his body heat, the little he had. His temperature at the ER was 90 degrees. We were rushed to pediatric ICU at Women's and children's, and arrived there right about 12 hours from the time we were discharged.

They gave him another 25 cc's of blood (which is the appropriate "unit" of blood for a baby of his weight). They continued to work on him until about 5:30 in the morning. They finally turned to us and said, "He's going to make it." I immediately offered, from the deepest part of my being, a prayer of thanks to God for sparing my son, and sparing me the sacrifice I thought he was calling me to make (blog: A Father's Love).

Day 5: Monday, July 4, 2011.

Lesley and I slept for about 2 hours. We awoke to find him receiving another 25 cc's of blood. He was intubated at this time. The doctor's stated that all indicators pointed to the fact that he had a blood disorder, possibly hemophilia.

We spent a lot of time that day praying, watching, waiting, doing nothing.

It was about 7:00 pm that evening when the Pediatric Resident physician came and confirmed to us that Nathaniel did have hemophilia.

He asked if we had any questions.

I couldn't help but laugh. Questions. Where do I start? Maybe with, "Why the hell did you people discharge him on Sunday when you knew that his blood count was off and there were some screwy numbers in his indicators?"

I sat there stunned.

Day 6: Tuesday July 5, 2011

Nathaniel received his first infusion of "Factor 8", the clotting factor that his little body does not make.

When a healthy person gets a cut, a series of dominoes get knocked over. Each of those dominoes is called a "Factor". When they have all fallen, the blood clots, a scab forms, and the person stops bleeding and has a protective, natural "bandaid" over the wound.

Nathaniel's body does not produce (or if less severe does not produce enough) of the 8th of those dominoes. That means when he gets a cut or a bruise or a high impact injury, the clotting process starts. When it reaches the 8th domino, however, the process stops, because he is missing Factor 8. Nathaniel's hemophilia does not cause him to bleed faster than anyone else, but because his blood does not clot to form the scab, he doesn't stop bleeding. As the events of Saturday and Sunday attest, he will eventually bleed out and die, unless some kind of intervention is provided.

The wonder of science is that they have been able to isolate each of the dominoes, each of the factors, and can give Nathaniel infusions of the specific factor his body is missing, which in turn allows the process to continue.

This day was pretty uneventful. Adjusting to the knowledge that Nathaniel has hemophilia was easier for me than it was for Lesley. My attitude was, now that we know, we can plan. It was the not knowing that was so painful to me. I knew, even before the hemophilia specialists told us in our first visit, that it would be important to help Nathaniel lead as normal a life as any other child. Protecting him in a bubble would only hurt him worse than the hemophilia in the long run. I made a lot of jokes about him not being able to ride a motorcycle, get tattoos or body piercings someday. Lesley took to those ideas fairly easily.

We met the hemotologist with whom we will be working through the Hemophilia Treatment Center, heard about the different types of hemophilia and different severity levels. We learned that it would be a month before they would run tests to determine Nathaniel's severity level, because he had the transfusions. It's necessary to make sure that he has processed the blood that is not his and it is out of his system before running tests. If we're going to know the severity of his blood disorder, we have to make sure that we're testing his blood.

Day 7: Wednesday, July 6, 2011

More adjustment and learning. Pretty uneventful. The doctor was even discussing the possibility of moving Nathaniel to the regular pediatric unit the next morning.

Day 8: Thursday, July 7, 2011

Early in the morning, before dawn, Nathaniel started to struggle. His blood oxygen saturation number was dropping regularly. It would drop; the nurses would come in, and give him a higher percentage of oxygen in his air. He would improve for a little bit, then it would drop again and the cycle would repeat.

They decided mid-morning to give him a a stronger air support, so they put him on what was called a high flow with a long pronged cpap. It helped. For a while. The cycle continued, and pretty soon he was up again to receiving 100% oxygen through the cpap. The doctor came in around noon to tell us that Nathaniel had developed a bad pneumonia, and that his right lung had collapsed. The collapse of his lung had created a vacuum in his chest, which caused his heart to shift to the right side of his chest, rather than center left. The doctor also explained that Nathaniel's heart rate, due to the stress of breathing and the shift, had spiked several times, which led to the fear that he may have a cranial hemorrhage, or bleeding on the brain. This is common in severe cases of hemophilia when the hemophiliac is under high physical stress, as Nathaniel was.

Worried sick.

The doctor said that they were going to reintubate him with a tracheal tube into his lungs, and that they would begin a process that would take several days of sucking out the mucus and fluid (affectionately known as gunk) and reinflating his right lung. The doctor said that by reinflating the lung, the heart would move back into the correct position.

When the process was over of reintubation and the first gunk extraction, they did both a head ultrasound and a chest ultrasound. The chest ultrasound came back fairly quickly. Strong heart, no internal bleeding. It would be ok once the lung was reinflated.

Lesley's parents were there, and we played cards in a feeble attempt to get our minds off the possibilities. Finally, around 7:00 pm, the doctor came in and told us that there was no bleeding in the brain. Thank you, God, again.

We went to bed that night knowing that, IF NATHANIEL SURVIVED THE PNEUMONIA, there would be no permanent brain or cardial damage.

Day 9: Friday, July 8, 2011
More watching and waiting and learning. Learning about hemophilia. Watching Nathaniel's progress in very small increments to a healthier lung. And waiting for his little body to do what they wanted it to do.

And here we are, at the end of day 10, Saturday, July 9, 2011. And we are still waiting and watching. This is the mode we will be in for the forseeable future. Nathaniel has to determine the progress at this point. He is out of the woods. He is not currently in danger of death, but that doesn't mean that he won't be if the pneumonia strikes back. His lung is looking for more clear each day. We saw an X-ray of his chest, and his heart has moved back to the center left position. Please no political jokes about that.

It is a miracle that Nathaniel is even still alive. I know that it is due to all the prayer warriors out there who have been storming heaven on our behalf. The doctors and nurses at Women's and Children's have been so kind to us. They keep saying, "Now I know there are other places you'd rather be."

I respond, "Maybe, but I would rather NOT be at my son's funeral."

Anyway, there's the whole story. Thanks, it helps getting it off of my chest.

A Father's Love

2011-07-06T21:57:00.002-05:00

I hope that no one took my words wrong in my previous post, believing that I was suggestng that as a father, I am not bonded to my children, or worse, that a father does not love his children. Nothing could be further from the Truth.

The Truth is, I cannot love my children the same way as their mother. But I'm not supposed to.

If a father's love and a mother's love were the same, then God would not have "created them male and female." We would all be the same gender. No, instead God created us "in his image, male and female he created" us. The father plays an essential, complimentary, and no less important role to the mother.

As a father, I will always be the outsider, the other in the trinity of the divine institution of the family, Father, Mother, Child. That's because God is the Other. The father is the image of God the Transcendent, who is outside of us, watching over us, protecting us, looking at the big picture.

A mother, on the other hand, is the image of God the Intimate, who comforts us, holds us, is within us, and nourishes us.

In the events that took place this last Sunday evening with Nathaniel, as a father, I had a very important role to play. As I held my son under the baptismal waters, I was Abraham sacrificially giving my son back to God. (Thank God, like Abraham, God spared me that sacrifiice.) As I drove to the hospital, as Lesley was holding my son (and I believe holding his soul bound to hers), I was praying, "Lord, into your hands I commend his spirit." Because I am father, I am the one called to give him up in sacrifice, or at least be prepared to.

Please don't take these words in the sense that I did not want my son to live. King David prayed through fasting and sacrifice for the life of his son. The child died anyway. King David rose from his prayer, bathed, and ate. When asked why he acted this way, he replied that God had seen fit not to answer his prayer, so what more should he do? This seems callous, but it's actually an image of a father who accepted the will of almighty God. That is my love as a father: to always be willing to obey God even to the point of sacrificing that which I hold most precious to me. Joseph, the husband of Mary, sacrificed his ancestral home, his livelihood, his own security for the sake of Jesus.

Another role I have as a father is to sacrifice myself for my wife, so that Lesley can fulfill her very special role of being the image of God the Intimate. What I wrote earlier was a celebration of that special vocation of hers as Mother. If I approach her relationship with jealousy over her place in my children's lives, I poison myself, my relationship with her, and my relationship with my children. So instead I celebrate her intimate, nourishing, life-gving bond with our children.

In the same token, Lesley should and does sacrifice herself for me so that I can perform my role as a father in the image of God the Transcendant. And believe me, she celebrates my transcendant, protective, life-giving role in our children's lives.

In the whole thing that went down Sunday night, Lesley and I each did our part as the image of God to which we are called by our vocation in marriage, equally, complimentarily, generously, stressfully, and most importantly, faithfully.

Song of Songs 8:6

2011-07-06T06:30:00.003-05:00

A hemoglobin count measures the number of hemoglobin proteins in your blood that carry oxygen. Normally, a hemoglobin count of 6 means death. On Sunday night when we arrived at the ER, Nathaniel's was 3.9.

His body temperature was 90 degrees.

The doctors told us that bascially he had bled out so much that the only parts of his body that had oxygenated blood were his brain, his lungs and his heart.

When I was a priest, I was with people when they died. I know what death looks like. When Lesley came and got me on Sunday night and asked me to look at Nathaniel, I knew he was dying. I knew it with as much conviction as I know that I'm sitting here typing this. I honestly believed he would not survive the ride the 5 miles from our house to the emergency room.

We called Lesley's parents to come and watch our children, and Lesley began to prepare things to take to the hospital. While she was doing that, I took Nathaniel into the bathroom, and I baptized him. When I came out, I gave him to his mother to hold him.

Lesley's parents arrived. As we were getting into the car, Lesley asked if she should put him in his car seat. I said, "No, you hold him." She held him all the way to the hospital.

In my heart, I know that is what is saved his life.

Song of Songs 8:6

Set me as a seal on your heart,
as a seal on your arm;
For stern as death is love,
relentless as the nether world is devotion;
its flames are a blazing fire.

There is a bond that exists between a mother and her child, a love that grows between them and within them just as real as the body that grows in the mother's womb. This bond of love is strong as death, relentless as the netherworld.

I think Lesley, by holding her son, kept his soul in this world.

The love that a mother and her child have for each other is a spiritual reality. It cannot be comprehended cognitively. It cannot be touched or understood empirically. It can't even be felt emotionally. It is a spiritual reality, too deep for our feeble human senses to comphrehend.

I believe that Nathaniel could see the Angel of Death beckoning him on Sunday night. I also believe that between them was a force, stern as death, just as powerful, that kept Nathaniel from heeding that call, Lesley's love for him and his for her.

My son is alive because of his mother's love.

Why Glenn Beck Is Always Right

2011-04-27T19:29:00.002-05:00

I’ve been listening to a lot of talk radio lately, liberal and conservative. I’ve decided that “talk” radio is actually a misnomer. I think “shout” radio would be a much better name. Anyway, the trip from Jefferson City to Columbia and back again provides ample time to hear what people have to shout about.

It always amazes me when I hear the pundits, liberal and conservative, defending their positions against callers and guests who would challenge the agendas they promote on their shows. They’re never defeated in an argument. They never concede a point. Glenn Beck is always right. So is Sean Hannity. And all the conservatives on 93.9 The Eagle. But equally so are Joy Behar, Rosie O’Donnell, and all the liberals who display their wears on 89.9 KOPN. They’re never wrong. Ever.

What I’ve found is a microcosm of our government. We’ve got the conservatives, the liberals, and those fewer and fewer in the middle. We’ve got gridlock threatening “government shutdown.” We’ve got absolutely nothing getting accomplished (which admittedly, I normally prefer as the government’s modus operandi, but with the fiscal crisis in which our country is currently, inaction does not bode well at this time). Why is there so much gridlock, not just in the government, but on talk radio? Why aren’t these pundits ever wrong?

I decided to listen more carefully, not to the subject matter of the argument, but to the actual manner of argument. I made an interesting discovery.

A presupposition is defined by 2 main characteristics. 1) A presupposition is something that you assume to be true, but that cannot be proven by tangible, observable data. 2) A presupposition is the foundation upon which you build your arguments.

Why is it important to understand what a presupposition is? Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Joy Behar, Katie Couric, and all the other pundits out there, conservative and liberal, argue from presuppositions. They do not allow their presuppositions to be challenged, and because they do not allow their presuppositions to be challenged, they cannot lose an argument.

This is the way it works.

I accuse you of hitting your spouse. You say, “I don’t hit my spouse.” I say, “Well, when did you stop hitting your spouse.” You start to say that you have never hit your spouse, but I interrupt you and demand that you answer a simple question, “When did you stop hitting your spouse? Answer the question. Give me a date.” You continue to attempt to inform me that you have never hit your spouse, but I continue to interrupt you, “Look, it’s a simple question. When did you stop hitting your spouse? Either you’ve stopped hitting your spouse, or you haven’t. I’ll make it even simpler, have you stopped hitting your spouse? Yes or no.” Now you can’t answer, so I call you a spouse abuser and refuse to talk to you further because I don’t waste my time talking to people who abuse their spouses.

My presupposition is that you hit your spouse, and I do not allow you to challenge my presupposition. During the course of the argument, I only ask questions that, no matter what answer you give, require you to accept my basic presupposition. You cannot win that argument against me.

That’s why Glenn Beck is always right. That’s why Joy Behar is always right. That’s why Bill O’Reilly never loses and argument. That’s why Rosie O’Donnell cannot lose an argument. They all argue in such a way that they force those with whom they argue to accept their basic presuppositions, without ever allowing their presuppositions to be challenged.

On a practical level, why is this important?

Our presuppositions form the basis of how we interpret our experiences on a fundamental, moral level. They guide our beliefs about what is right and what is wrong. For example, if your fundamental belief is that one is personally responsible for him or herself under all circumstances, the concept of the government providing health care will be repugnant to you. If, however, you believe that society has a responsibility to assist those who, for whatever reason, cannot provide for themselves, then you would believe that the government has not only the right, but the obligation to provide healthcare for those whom it governs. Another example: if you believe that one’s gender is an essential element in one’s personhood, then you would reason that marriage should be defined as only existing between a man and a woman, because only in that complementarity of the genders can a true marriage bond exist. If you believe, on the other hand, that one’s gender is inconsequential to the person’s fundamental identity, then you would believe that marriage can be defined as existing between any two people, no matter what their gender happens to be.

These core beliefs are presuppositions. They cannot be proven by tangible, observable date. They form the foundation of a line of argument that governs our actions and thoughts.

Our presuppositions govern our actions on a very practical level. The problem comes when we, like those pundits in the media, refuse to allow our presuppositions to be challenged. They are fundamental beliefs to us. We don’t like having them challenged. Just because they are beliefs, though, does not mean that they are correct.

I see bumper stickers that say, “Question Authority.” I hear it talked about, how we should “fight the power.” I rarely hear anyone talk about questioning the self. Are we as willing to put our own beliefs under the scalpel as we are everyone else’s?
One way of doing this is to find a basic presupposition we hold, and carry it out to its logical conclusion. If the line of reasoning leads to chaos, the chance is that our basic presupposition or belief is incorrect. For example, a presupposition that I’ve heard over and over is, “The government cannot legislate morality.” This is normally stated in more libertarian circles regarding illegal drugs, prostitution, the adult sex industry and other types of similar activities. The government should stay out of people’s personal lives. It cannot legislate morality.

Let’s follow that out. Morality is that system or code which tells me what I ought to do and what I ought not to do. If something is moral, it is something that I ought to do. If something is immoral, then it is something that I ought not to do. So to say that the government cannot legislate morality is to say that the government cannot tell me that there are things that I ought to do, and things that I ought not to do.

Well, the government tells me that I ought not to drive over 70 miles per hour. By legislating that, it has become an issue of morality. Someone decided for me that I should not ride my motorcycle 98 miles per hour up highway 63. I have personal health insurance. I wear a helmet. I have enough life insurance that my wife and children would be very comfortable if I were to die. It’s my life. Who is the government to tell me that I ought not to do this?

What’s more, there are certain people that I think would be just better off dead. Or at least, I would be better off if they were dead. Who is the government to tell me that killing people is something I ought not to do? If someone gets mad at me for killing his cousin, who’s the government to say that dude shouldn’t come to kill me? After all, the government cannot legislate morality.

The fact is that any act of legislation is ultimately a legislation of morality. The government is telling me that there are things that I ought to do (pay taxes, drive a certain speed) and things that I ought not to do (drive without insurance, yell, “Fire!” in a crowded movie theater). So the basic presupposition, “The government cannot legislate morality,” is an erroneous belief. If it were to be fully implemented, there would be chaos. The question then is not, “Can the government legislate morality?” but rather, “Since every act of legislation is a moral matter, what should be the moral standard by which the government legislates?”

The bottom line is this. If we are to ever get anywhere in this mixed up government, religion, you name it, we need to be willing to have our fundamental beliefs, those pesky presuppositions, questioned.

I believe in truth. Not my presuppositions. If my presuppositions are true, then carried out logically they will lead to harmony, (true) diversity, peace, and joy. You will know a tree by its fruits. If my presuppositions are erroneous, I would want someone to correct them, because what is not true will only lead to chaos and self-defeat. So from now on, I invite you with me, before we decide to dismiss Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Joy Behar, Rosie O’Donnell, Pope Benedict, Bill Maher, Sarah Palin, Barack Obama or whoever we find irritates us the most, to question the self. I’ll question my own presuppositions. You question yours. Let’s see whose presuppositions lead to the greater good. It might not be mine, but it might not be yours either.

Selling Indulgences and Buying Ministry

2011-02-05T07:38:00.002-06:00

Allow me to set the stage.

Sin brings punishment (actually sin is its own punishment). Jesus Christ paid the ultimate price for our sins, and gave us the grace of forgiveness. In doing penitential acts like fasting, prayer and almsgiving, we unite our sufferings to the suffering of Christ, and therefore “in [our] flesh [we are] filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ…” (Colossians 1:24). Christ’s suffering was complete to win us salvation. I cannot receive the grace from this sacrifice of his suffering, however, if I am not united to it. What is lacking in the suffering of Christ is my union with him. Sin breaks that union. Penance is an act in which we ask that our unity with him be restored. In Catholic teaching, “indulgence” is the word that we use to designate the grace that I receive from doing an act of penance. An “indulgence” is a fancy word for the grace of forgiveness that I receive when I have done penance for my sin. Penance can take many forms.

St. Paul describes that within the unity of the Church, when one member suffers, the entire body suffers with it, and when one is honored, the whole body is honored (1 Corinthians 12:26). There is a sharing of grace and suffering. This means that one member of the Church can do penance for another. This does not exonerate another from doing his or her own penitential act of prayer, fasting or almsgiving. If I sin, I have to ask for forgiveness. It is a recognition, however, that we can benefit from others’ prayers. We all share in the suffering of one member’s sin, so we can all share in the honor of one member’s penance.

Ok. So penance is my way of asking Jesus to bring me back into unity with him, thereby washing away (the indulgence) the punishment of sin, which is the disunion my sin created.

In the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance, such acts of penance were done by different means, like participating in building a church, making a pilgrimage to a holy site, or fasting. When one performed a penitential act of fasting or prayer or almsgiving, the grace of reunion with the Lord was recognized. So how did it come about that indulgences, that grace of reunion, were sold?

There was this thing that was becoming widespread during this period of history called money. Prior to this period of history, most commerce was done through a barter system. If I wanted my hut’s roof thatched, I would barter my trade, perhaps metal working, with a thatcher, and we would trade our labor. With the advent of money, goods and services were no longer bartered. This affected almsgiving, as well. In the Middle Ages, almsgiving was not necessarily the giving of money. Usually when people brought their tithe to Church or gave to the poor, they gave produce or livestock. Perhaps a metal worker would make a plow and donate the plow to the local monastery so the monks could work the land to raise their own crops. A thatcher could donate the material and work of putting a roof on a church building or parsonage. With the increase of money, people could pay for goods and services. Money began to equal the good or service for which a person paid. A certain amount of money equaled a certain amount of goods. A certain amount of money equaled a certain amount of labor.

So this is where indulgences got twisted. If I’m a rich man in 14th century Europe and I commit a sin, I don’t need to do the act of penance myself. I can pay someone else to do it for me. I’m not necessarily doing the act of penance, but because of the unity within the Church, I can benefit from another doing it. The act is being done, the benefit of the grace is received. My money equaled the other’s act, so I “bought the indulgence”.

That’s why you would often see things like a “180 day indulgence.” That did not mean that if I paid the amount, I got 180 days off my “sentence of punishment” (which is what it came to mean over time). 180 days indulgence meant that I paid the amount to have someone do the act, work on a Cathedral, go on a pilgrimage, fast, for 180 days. Then, because money equaled labor, I got the grace as if I had done it.

Like I said, the concept of doing penance as a means of asking to be reunited to Christ got twisted with the advent of money. Little known to most people, the Church had taken steps to correct these practices in the Council of Toledo nearly 40 years prior to Martin Luther nailing his complaints to the cathedral door. The corrections had not spread to the areas of Germany, northern France, nor the Netherlands yet.

So that’s how the selling of indulgences became a practice. Money equaled action, and so by paying the money, I didn’t actually have to do the act.

How is this related as I suggest in the title to “Buying Our Ministries”? I think we can begin to fall into the same trap as those in the Middle Ages. There are many services out there of which we as Christians can be a part. These services need monetary donations, no doubt. These services need, just as much, volunteers to work in them. It can be a very easy thing to throw money at these services and call it a “ministry.” I think this is done in good conscience. I don’t think anyone is trying to get out of ministry. As a matter of fact, I think it is because we are overcommitted that we begin to supplant ministry with money.

This is the way I see it happening:

Christian (that’s the name of our hypothetical and faith-filled friend) has a family, and of course this is his first commitment to ministry. Working to feed his children, provide a roof over their head, and kissing their boo-boos, is as much feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, and comforting the afflicted as working in a soup kitchen. On top of this, he has a job. He goes to his home Church at least 2 times per week, and belongs to a prayer group because he knows that this small group of fellowship is also necessary for his spiritual growth. He volunteers to help with parish activities like chili suppers, pancake breakfasts, and other activities that come up. He’s thinking about a run for the church council position that’s opening up later this year. He also goes to the prison once a month to help his pastor with services. He’s involved.

So when Christian’s approached about volunteering once a month at the local food pantry or homeless shelter, he realizes he just doesn’t have time. Christian decides instead, that he’s going to donate $100.00 and let that be it. What’s the problem here? I don’t think there is one, until Christian begins to think donating the Franklin equals doing ministry. What Christian is doing is offering a tithe in almsgiving, which is also a penitential act. But it’s not ministry. Tithing and almsgiving are necessary; we are called to do them by our Lord. Tithing and almsgiving are not ministry.

This is the catch. It’s very easy to become complacent in our Christian lives. It’s very easy to say, “I’m too busy to volunteer at…” It’s very easy to think, “Someone else will shovel the snow out of my elderly neighbor’s driveway.” It’s also very easy to say, “I gave $100.00 to the Samaritan Center.” Jesus didn’t call us to do what’s easy. Jesus didn’t call us to stay in our comfort zone. Donating $100.00 to the local soup kitchen is necessary. It’s a tithe, an act of almsgiving, and goodness knows they need it. It’s not the same thing as pouring a bowl of soup while looking into a homeless man’s eyes. Giving money to St. Jude Children’s Hospital is necessary for our spiritual benefit (tithing) and for their work. It’s not the same thing as volunteering at the hospital to visit the sick or a local nursing home to visit an elderly person who has no one else who visits.

It’s important that we not begin to think that we can “do ministry” by offering a donation. Let’s keep that line clear. Both are necessary. We are called to tithe. We are called to give alms so that others can have food, clothing, shelter, medical care. We are also called to get out of our comfort zones so that we can be the one who feeds, shelters, clothes, and comforts our Lord in the least of these, his brothers.

Faith and Service

2010-10-03T20:49:00.005-05:00

The thing that is most important to remember about the request posed by the disciples in today's gospel is this: FAITH FOR A DISCIPLE OF CHRIST IS A LIVING RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD.

I'm tempted in this reflection to start this next paragraph with the words, "Faith is not...", and then list all of the things that easily get confused with faith. I've decided not to go there. It's simple really: Faith is our living relationship with God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

If we have this understanding of faith, a lot of things begin to make sense. This is why faith is a gift. We cannot earn this relationship with God, because God is so far beyond us that we cannot bridge the distance. God must cross the distance and initiate this relationship with us. God has done this. Time and time again, God has done this. The relationship that we have with Father, Son and Holy Spirit is gift. Faith is a gift.

Think about Abraham for a second, "For what does the scripture say, 'Abraham had faith, and it was credited to him as righteousness." (Romans 4:3). Abraham had a living relationship with God. They walked and talked together, and this relationship with God, that God invited Abraham to know him intimately, and they spent time together, was what made Abraham righteous. God bridged the distance, and Abraham showed up.

For the Christian, this gift of relationship with God comes through Jesus. Jesus is the way for us to enter that relationship. He is the total revelation of God. So while God bridges the gap to all humanity, one can only enter into the deepest relationship with him, to know him fully, through Jesus.

So the disciples request, "Increase our faith." What they're really asking, although it's unlikely that they knew this at the time, is for Jesus to bring them into a deeper relationship with himself, and ultimately with the fullness of the Trinitarian God.

Jesus's response is unique to Luke. This request is recorded several times throughout all the gospels. But this particular response is unique to Luke. And what is the response:

Be of service to one another. Jesus speaks of the servant who comes in from the field after working all day, and then has to serve more when the master requests his work. This is our role, service to one another. Jesus tells the disciples (us) that if our faith is to be increased, that we should enter into the role of servant.

He adds something very hard, though: Do not ask for anything in return. Serve unselfishly because that is who you are as my disciple. Do not expect any reward, extra pay, "overtime." He might as well have said, "You are my disciples. I expect you to serve." Oh wait, he did: "This is how all will know that you are my disciples, that you love one another." (John 13:35). And when the service is done, we say, "We only did what Jesus asked us to do."

Christian faith is increased through service. Here's the trick, we don't need to look at national unrest or international catastrophes to find challenges to faith. We don't need to look at personal tragedies, like the loss of a job or the foreclosure of a home. No. To find challenges to faith we need only to look at the mundane, more subtle, more insidious challenges that we face everyday, and usually when things are at their best. I'm a firm believer that people have the deepest faith when they are faced with hardship. At least, that's when they pray the most.

It is the times when things are going well that we become complacent in our faith. "Everything's going great, God, so I don't really need you right now." If faith is a living relationship with God, it is not based on need or convenience. So, how do we increase our faith when everything is going well?

Service.

I saw an example of that today at the St. Andrew Parish fall festival in Holts Summit. I spent 4 hours in the kitchen making mashed potatoes. Everyone working in the kitchen was volunteering, as well as everyone serving the food and working the games outside. They were serving any who came for a meal. And everyone of them did it with a smile. They increased my faith by their service, and I joined in with the friendship and the laughter and the fellowship and the service and the faith building.

Here's my challenge, find a service project. If you want to deepen your faith and experience a relationship with Jesus that is alive and powerful, find a way to serve "the least of these." And don't go all wimpy by saying, "My family will be my service project."

I believe that service should first and foremost start in the family. But it's a cop-out if that's all you do. How about this, find a project for your family to do together. Volunteer at the Samaritan Center or Salvation Army. Volunteer at your Church. Get involved in Cursillo, Christ Renews His Parish, TEC, highway clean up, United Way, ... the list goes on and on. Look outside your normal circle of influence. The possibilities to be of service are really endless.

Serve, and do it as a Christian. Pray before you start; pray when you're done. Offer it as a living sacrifice to God the Father. Pause several times during the activity to bring to mind that you are serving because you are a disciple of Christ.

I'm going to find one. Let's hold each other accountable to be of Christian service. I promise, it will deepen your faith.

I'm posting the link to this reflection on my facebook page. If you want to join me as an accountability partner for service, comment on this link in facebook. Join me in Christian service. Let's take the Lord at his word. Let's deepen our faith through service. Let's do what he says to do so that our relationship with him will be alive in the Spirit who binds us together.

Are you with me?

Some Thoughts on Prayer and my GPS

2010-07-25T06:23:00.003-05:00

We read things like this in the Gospel according to Luke: "And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives, and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in Heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?" Luke 11: 9-13.

When we read things like this, sometimes we can't help but think: "Yeah, right." For example, Lesley and I have been praying nearly two years that our house would sell. Ask and you will receive? How many unanswered prayers are out there. Desperate mothers praying for their children who are lost in the world of drugs and alcohol? People praying for a miracle to heal them from cancer? And in these economic times, how many unanswered prayers are out there for work?

How, then, do we understand these words?

The apostle James, gives us some insight: "You ask, but do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions." James 4:3. I have to admit, with Lesley and I and the house situation, we have been looking for a house that is within the credit range that we can afford, but that is much more house than we need. There's a great line in the movie "Shadowlands." The movie is about C.S. Lewis and his wife, who died of cancer. A friend of C.S. Lewis is talking to him about turning to God in prayer, and Anthony Hopkins, who plays C.S. Lewis, responds, "We do not pray to change God's mind, but our own."

There's another way to think about this. Allow me to be so bold as to paraphrase Jesus. "Which of you would give your son a venomous snake, if he asks for one?" Sometimes we don't give our children what they ask for because we know it wouldn't be good for them. They're asking for the wrong thing. Sometimes, God doesn't answer our prayers just as we pray them because we're praying for something that ultimately would be bad for us. God knows what is best. If we can hold on to our faith, we believe that God will answer our prayers in a way that is better than anything we could possibly wish for ourselves.

I'd like to put this discussion in a larger context. This thought came to me several years ago, and I've found it to be more and more true since then. I think God's answer to prayers is something like using a GPS. God knows the destination and the route. We're asking for directions, even when we don't quite know what the destination is. We have an idea. I know that Lesley and I want to provide an appropriate home for our children to grow up that will allow us to provide for them a Catholic education and an occasional vacation. God knows exactly where that place is. So I pray, listening for directions for God to position us in a place where He will be glorified in our family life. God doesn't give me the entire route at once. He gives me turn by turn directions. I have to listen for those directions, step by step.

Lesley and I were going to look at an open house one day, and we plugged the address in to our GPS. The GPS led us to the 179 and Missouri Blvd interchange that's closed down. We couldn't take the directions the GPS gave. That happens with God's directions, too, although it's usually not that we can't do what God asks. We just don't. (That's called sin.) If we're faithful, however, and return to listening to God, He says like that GPS system, "You are now off course. Recalculating route." And God gives us turn by turn directions to get us back to the right place.

Prayer then, becomes asking for directions, not asking for things. Instead of praying, "Lord, heal my loved one." We begin to pray, "Lord, show me how to bring Your healing to my loved one." Very different. My prayer has changed. Instead of praying, "Lord, give us a house." I've started praying, "Lord, lead us to the house that you want us to have, and lead the one to this house whom you want to buy it." Very different prayers.

Ultimately, Jesus gives the answer in the gospel. "If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in Heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask?" What we should be praying for is the Holy Spirit. "Seek ye first the kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added." Matthew 6:33. If we seek the Holy Spirit, pray for the Holy spirit, and listen for the Holy Spirit, every other prayer will be answered, although it may be in ways we didn't expect.

GPS: God's Positioning Spirit.

Mary and Martha

2010-07-18T06:54:00.002-05:00

St. Augustine used the story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42) as an example of how the contemplative life was superior to the active life. Well, I don't want to take on St. Augustine, but I have often thought that this interpretation is one way to look at it.

I think another way to see this story is that Mary and Martha are actually two sides of one person. I'm not saying that Mary and Martha are make believe characters that are symbolic. I believe that they were two, very real sisters. I believe that their juxtaposition, however, demonstrates a dual reality that exists in all of us.

Martha was so busy serving the Lord, that she forgot to listen to him.

How many of us have done that? We get so busy serving the Lord in our work, family, church, community, that we forget to take time to just sit still at his feet and hear him speak to us. We take St. Paul's injunction to "pray without ceasing" (1 Thessalonians 5:17) as an excuse to never sit down with scripture, meditation, spiritual reading, and make time to listen to the Lord. We say that we "pray at every moment of the day even when we're doing other things." We should be doing that, but let me ask you this. If every time you wanted to have a serious, heart-to-heart conversation with someone you love, that person said, "Sure, we can talk while I'm at work (or doing laundry or fixing supper or watching TV or ministering or fill in the blank with any other activity), how that would that make you feel?

Jesus wants to speak to our hearts. He wants us to set aside the activity, even the ministry activities in which we participate, to have some time to just sit with him, at his feet.

Here's what Mary knew that Martha didn't. Jesus was a cool guest. When it was time to help fix supper, he would have said, "Hey, what can I do to help?" When it was time to clean up afterwards, he would have said, "Here, let me bring the dishes to the sink for you." When it was time to be involved in the activity, he would have been there, hands on, side by side with Mary and Martha. It wasn't time. It was time for Martha to set aside her active service of the Lord to be still in his presence for a while.

Jesus wants to spend time with us. The Lord of the Universe wants to be with us. Can you imagine that? We are important enough to him that he emptied himself to be with us. Is he important enough to us to set aside time to be with him, to have our attention solely focused on him, for just a little while each day?

The Good Samaritan

2010-07-11T05:56:00.002-05:00

Somehow, for some people, "the man going from Jerusalem to Jericho" has been thought of as a Jewish man. Scriptures give us no indication, however, that the man sat upon by robbers was Jewish. Instead, he is just "a man." He could have been Roman, Greek, Egyptian, or any other ethnicity. Jesus begins right away to challenge us in this story. He completely ignores any divisions that may occur, and rather presents a human being in need of help.

Another thing I think unfortunate is that the priest and the levite who pass by the man have been impuned with cowardice. It's often explained that perhaps they were afraid that they, too, would be harmed if they helped this man. That may be, but it surprises me that it is so rarely mentioned that the priest and levite were actually following the Jewish law.

The man was beaten and left for dead. There must have been blood on the man. If they had helped the man, they would have violated the Jewish law concerning contact with blood, and would have themselves become ritually unclean. With this, they would have been ostracized from their communities and unable even to enter the temple or synagogues until they had completed the ceremonial purification acts, which as described in Jewish law, took an extended period of time.

They didn't help the man because they were obeying the law: a fact that would not have been missed by the "scholar of the law" to whom Jesus told this story.

It took someone who was already ostracized, a Samaritan, to ignore the "legal" consequences of contact with blood and to obey the more important law of God, "to love your neighbor as yourself." How often have we not helped someone who was in need because of fear thar we ourselves would be ostracized by others? I wonder if I have walked by on the other side of the road because I'm afraid of what others may think. When have we not done the right thing, because doing the right thing might mean being made fun of, losing status, or losing a friend? Or how often have we not helped others in need because we consider ourselves to be holy, and do not want to be "defiled" or made "unclean"?

We are called to love our neighbor as ourself. Jesus does not make a distinction about whom our neighbor is, any human being in need is our neighbor. Jesus does not make a distinction about what the need is, any person who is suffering. Jesus does not care about how righteous we think we are, the law of love is the supreme law. Jesus, the Son of God, who was eternally perfect and holy, emptied himself, took the form of a slave, and died on a cross in order to help us.

Now he gives us a very simple command, "Go, and do likewise."

The Pilgrim Church

2010-06-27T06:04:00.002-05:00

Deacon Ramsay (St. Andrew Parish, Holts Summit) in his homily last night used this wonderful image (that he credited to his wife) of the Church as a caravan. There are those billions who have gone before us, untold numbers who will come after us, and here we are at our time and place in this great parade, or caravan. We rely on each other in fellowship, and follow the path that has been tread by so many before us, following Jesus Christ. With this image, one cannot help but think of the ancient Israelites in the wilderness.

They were brought from the land of Egypt through the waters of the Red Sea into their own pilgrimage, and moved as a great caravan across the wilderness. We were brought from our slavery to sin and anguish through the waters of Baptism into this caravan of the Church, and we move toward the Promised Land, which is far better than the land promised to the Israelites. When we reach our Promised Land, "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away." Revelation 21:4. Truly, "if for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most to be pitied." 1 Corinthians 15:19. That would be like the Israelites hoping that the wilderness would provide all that they needed to be happy.

There's the key!

That would be like the Israelites hoping that THE WILDERNESS would provide all that they needed to be happy...

...Rather than relying on God to provide what they needed.

How often are we hurt because we want THIS LIFE, which is our wilderness, to provide our happiness, rather than relying on God? So many things have converged on me. At our meeting for Road Riders for Jesus, and in several other areas, Pastor Gary Berhns, the pastor of Christian Fellowship here in Jefferson City, MO, has challenged me to think about why it is so difficult to trust in God. This is my response...because too often I simply forget, and put my trust in the wilderness.

But what a lesson in the pilgrim caravan of the ancient Israelites. "There is no food." "There is no water." "We don't have meat." God provided it all, not the wilderness. They wanted their needs met, and looked in all the wrong places, rather than trusting that God would provide. How often have I wanted my needs met, and looked to people, places and things of this earth to meet my needs! And how often have I been disappointed in this?

Every time I turn my gaze from my God and expect a person, place, or thing here on this earth to meet my needs, I am disappointed. "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ..."

But, really, honestly, in this great caravan of the Church, we stand on the mountain overlooking the Jordan to the promised land (Deuteronomy 34:1-3). We are at the cusp. Our lives, really, are so very short compared to the span of time of the world, and even less compared to God's eternity. We are so close to the end of our pilgrimage. And on this mountain top, I have seen glimpses of the promised land. And I look through the prisms of the signs of the sacraments of my Church, and I receive food for the journey in the fellowship of the caravan, every time we gather to receive the food that Christ himself provided in the wilderness (John 6).

And I am grateful, Lord, at how wonderfully you have provided for me. You have already given all that I need before I even ask (Matthew 6:8). All the people, places and things in my life are gifts from you to nourish me in this pilgrimage. Help me, Lord, to be for others, what you have allowed them to be for me. And thank you, Lord. Thank you for allowing me to walk this pilgrim journey with you. Thank you.

Pentecost Sunday

2010-05-23T05:58:00.002-05:00

This is the holy day that brings to a close the Easter Season; the day we celebrate the presence of the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit that drove those 11 scared men out of that locked upper room into the streets of Jerusalem, preaching to all the world in each person's language (Acts 2:1-11) is still driving the Church throughout the world today. That same Holy Spirit is inspring the Church to proclaim today in every language the gospel of Jesus Christ. This is the reversal of the curse of the Tower of Babel. A people once divided has now become one again.

Isn't this what we pray for in every Eucharistic Prayer? In the Spirit and in the sharing of the one bread and one cup, that we may all be one.

Evangelization takes on a level of reconciliation then. This is the gift of the Holy Spirit as it is given in John's gospel, "He breathed on them, saying, "Receive the Holy Spirit, whose sins you forgive are forgiven; whose sins you retain are retained." The Holy Spirit is given to the Church for evangelization and reconciliation. In unity and fellowship, we proclaim the message of Christ. As a matter fact, the unity of our fellowship, the love we show one another, can be as powerful a witness as anything we preach. "See how they love one another," was the comment that so many pagans made in the time of Tertullian, the 3rd century bishop.

The Holy Spirit was given to equip the Church to empower the Church to complete it's mission of making disciples of all the world. But the Holy Spirit is also given to each of us individually. It is a restoration of that gift of creation. Adam did not become a living man until the Holy Spirit was breathed into him at that moment of creation (Genesis 2:7). That original unity with God, for which we were created in the first place, is restored.

We have the Spirit of God living within us when we accept Jesus Christ as our Lord. These aren't just words. God has invited us into a living relationship with him so intimate that he comes to dwell within our very being. The Holy Spirit lives within us, and guides us (John 14:26). My favorite image of the Holy Spirit within us is that the Holy Spirit is like a tuning fork, and we are the instruments. The Holy Spirit resonates within us at all times. When we make time in prayer to listen to the Holy Spirit, there is harmony in our lives, serenity, "the peace that surpasses understanding" (Phillipians 4:7). When we are not in union with the Spirit of God that indwells our hearts, there is dissonance, a troubled conscience, fear, hatred, anger, hopelessness.

Being in union with the Spirit means the original unity for which we were created is restored, but it also means the original unity we were to have with each other is restored as well. This is what Paul refers to in using the image of the body (1 Corinthians 12: 12, 13). We are all one in the Spirit, "So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any incentive of love, ANY PARTICIPATION IN THE SPIRIT, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the love, being in full accord and of one mind" (Phillipians 2:1, 2). Imagine an orchestra in which every person's instrument is out of tune and every individual member is playing his own song.

If each of us makes a point to listen to that Holy Spirit, while each of us may have a different instrument and be playing different notes, we will all be in tune with each other and the differences between us will create an amazing harmony in the world. "Let us make a joyful noice unto the Lord" (Psalm 95:1, Psalm 100:1). Or, as Paul puts it, let us be one body with many parts.

The Holy Spirit makes it possible to have peace when there is suffering, love when there is hatred, courage when there is fear, hope when there is darkness, and forgiveness when there is betrayal. The Holy Spirit is the Presence of God in the world, in our Church, and in our hearts.

"Come, Holy Spirit. Fill the hearts of your faithful. Enkindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, Lord, and we shal be created. And you will renew the face of the earth.

"O God, who buy the light of the Holy Spirit instructs the hearts of the faithful, grant that by that same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever rejoice in His consolations, through Christ our Lord."

AMEN!!!

The Holy Spirit's Coming: Let's Get Ready

2010-05-09T05:54:00.002-05:00

The Church is nearing the feast of Pentecost. We can tell because the readings for each Sunday are becoming more explicit in their mention of the Holy Spirit. Jesus is preparing to leave his disciples to return to his father. This great discourse in John's gospel that we've been meditating on for the last several weeks is leading us now to focus our reflection on the presence of the Holy Spirit.

In today's gospel, we hear the promise of Jesus to his 11 disciples (Judas had left by now). "The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I told you" (John 14:26). This promise takes on two layers of reality in the Church, or two levels of interaction. First, we cannot forget the context in which Jesus is saying these words. He is speaking directly to the 11 here, not to the entire community of disciples. These are his final words to those who would be leading his Church once he ascends to the Father.

These 11 were given this teaching authority. It's throughout the gospels. Jesus gave the authority to teach to these disciples whom he called (Mark 3:13-19). He sent them out over and over again as his representatives, in his person (In Persona Christi). They are the ones especially endowed with the gift to teach his message without error. These readings that we are hearing are the foundation for the teaching of the infallibility of the Pope and College of Bishops. The Apostles were given the authority to teach infallibly the message of our Lord. We see this acted out in a very real way in the first reading today from the Acts of the Apostles. The reading today is an edited version of the story we've been hearing in the daily readings for Mass throughout this week.

The argument arose in the early Church about whether the Gentile converts had to be circumcised and follow the Mosaic law in order to be Christian. As you can imagine, the Gentiles weren't crazy about this idea! The Apostles came together, and through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, gave the teaching that Gentile Christians only had to abstain from illicit marriage, not eat meat that had been sacrficed to idols, and avoid eating meat with blood in it.

The authority of the apostles was handed on to those who would come after them. There is passage after passage in the letters of Paul and James and Peter that describe the passing on of full Apostolic Authority to the Successors of the Apostles, including the authority to teach infallibly. This infallibility must be properly understood, however.

It's actually a misnomer to call it the "Infallibility of the Pope and College of Bishops." It is not the pope and college of bishops who are infallible. It is the teaching they offer that is infallible. The teaching is what is without error, not the teachers. The second thing to remember is that this gift of infallibility is contained to teachings of faith and morality. This why the Galileo debaucle happened. The pope and bishops attempted to impose their teaching on a matter of science. That's outside of their realm of infallibility, and it was proven. We see, however, throughout the history of the Church, that no matter how corrupt the pope or hierarchy may have been, we've never seen them pronounce a teaching of heresy. This is how we account for terrible things like the priest sex abuse scandal. The movement of these priests was not a matter of faith or morality, but an administrative decision. The pope and college of bishops can be in error adminstratively and scientifically. When acting in concert with one another, however, as the Successors of the Apostles, their teachings in matters of faith and morality are infallible.

This is the first level of this gospel reading: the authority of the Apostles (and their Successors) to teach infallibly.

The second layer is this: the promise and gift of the Holy Spirit is given to each of us individually, to guide us in our own private lives. You are temple of the Holy Spirit. Ultimately the presence of the Holy Spirit is a return to the original order of creation, when the Spirit of God was breathed into the first man, and brought him to life. More on this on Pentecost Sunday.

The Holy Spirit is coming! Actually, the Holy Spirit is already with us. We're going to begin a series over the next few Sundays reflecting on the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives. It is very important, however, not to lose the importance of the role of the Holy Spirit in the Church. We follow the teachings of faith and morality of the Pope and the College of Bishops. Preparing for the Holy Spirit's presence in our personal lives means also recognizing the power of the Holy Spirit in those who lead us in faith.

Suffering in the Kingdom of God

2010-05-01T21:03:00.004-05:00

The Dalai Lama, in his book The Art of Happiness makes a very interesting comment. He says so many people, when suffering comes, ask the question, “Why me?” A better question, the Dalai Lama says, would be to ask, “Why not me? What great thing have I done that I deserve not to suffer?”

Here’s the fact: Jesus Christ, the only human being that has ever existed who was perfect by his own merit, suffered…and died…on a cross. What makes me think, when suffering comes, that I deserve anything less than He? St. Paul “strengthened the spirits of the disciples and exhorted them to persevere in the faith, saying ‘It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22).

Suffering comes to us. In this life, it is unavoidable. We suffer because of that original sin, which is passed on to us, and separates us from God. That original sin is the source of all suffering. So many times people ask, “If God is all-powerful, why does he allow suffering?” And, frankly, it’s offensive to me when people ascribe to God the cause of suffering. That happens in a lot of ways. The fact is that we suffer because we are separated from God, and that was not by God’s doing. Humanity as a whole chose to be separated from God, a choice that is symbolized in the story of Adam and Eve and that forbidden fruit. We, as a whole, have chosen not to obey God’s word of life to us. Suffering is the consequence of that separation from Him.

Here’s the good news. Our God did not and does not leave us in our suffering. Instead, through Jesus Christ’s suffering and death, God transformed what was the consequence of our separation from Him into the doorway through which we are united to him eternally in bliss. “I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them as their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.’ The One who sat on the throne, said, ‘Behold, I make all things new’” (Revelation 21: 3-5).

“It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God.” Why? First of all, because it’s unavoidable. Suffering comes whether we want it to or not. It’s the consequence of humanity’s choice to separate ourselves from God. Some might think, “I’ve never wanted to be separated from God.” Honestly, which one of us has never sinned?

But secondly, because it is through suffering that we are united to Jesus on the cross. When we unite our pain and suffering to the suffering of Christ, then we go through the suffering and deaths that we experience in life and are raised with him. “The saying is sure: If we have died with him, we shall also live with him” (2 Timothy 2:11).

How do we do that? The 100 billion dollar question, isn’t it? I know saying the answer is a lot hard than doing the answer,

We unite our suffering to the suffering of Christ first by the grace of acceptance. We accept that in this life, we are going to suffer. I think that a lot of sin that we commit is committed because we are trying to avoid suffering in some way. We lie because we see the suffering the consequences of telling the truth. We gossip because if we don’t, we might suffer by not being included with the ones who doing the gossiping. We hold on to resentments because we have suffered, and it makes us feel a little bit better to hate the ones who have caused us pain. I think it’s natural to avoid suffering. Some suffering cannot be avoided. I think the hardship of being faithful is a source of a lot of our unfaithfulness. When we make the commitment to prayer, how often do we hit the snooze button? How often have we missed church on vacation because making time to worship with the community would interfere with our good time? There's a grace that comes with spiritual maturity: the grace of acceptance of suffering, the grace of meeting life's on life's terms, not on ours.

In this, I’m not saying that if we get sick, we should say, “Oh, well, I can’t avoid it so I’m just going to lay here at let the sickness get worse.” That would be dumb.

When we get a headache, we can say, “I’m going to take aspirin to get rid of this, but until it goes away, I’m going to accept it and not let it make me grumpy towards my family.” My grandfather was recently diagnosed with cancer. His attitude is one of total acceptance, even while undergoing treatment. “This isn’t going to kill me,” he said, “and if it does, my number’s up. What can I do?” He’s undergoing treatment for it, and understands that the treatment is going to hurt. He has accepted this, too. If only we can accept that we are going to suffer, I think the suffering gets a little easier to bear because we stop fighting the suffering.

After we accept in grace that suffering exists, we can make a conscious decision to love in our suffering as Christ loved. Like I said, I may take aspirin to get rid of a headache, or chemo to try and get rid of cancer. While I’m waiting for my suffering to end, I will act in love toward those around me, rather than taking my suffering out on them. I will love as Christ loved on the cross, when he prayed for those who nailed him there.

And we can say a prayer in our suffering. “Lord, I really want our home to sell, so that I can provide a more appropriate place for my growing family. It’s not. Help me to endure with patience this situation over which I have no power, and unite it to your suffering for the good of my family.” Our suffering can become a prayer in itself, when we consciously make it so.

Our suffering, which was originally the result of our separation from God, can be the doorway by which we are more fully united with Him in His Kingdom. I know “the saying is sure: if we have died with him; we also shall live with him.” And “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.” He has made all things, including our suffering, new.

Enjoying the Ride Called Life

2010-04-22T21:03:00.001-05:00

Check out Pastor Ron's new blog "Enjoying the Ride Called Life."

Good stuff.

You can get to it over at the links section.

A Couple of Poems I Wrote

2010-04-18T20:26:00.002-05:00

Here are a couple of poems I wrote.

A Biker’s Sonnet

I know why Columbus[1] saw the sea’s tide,
And where the world drops off the other side,
And thought, “Ol’ boy, that’s where you need to go.”
I know why Neil and Buzz[2] walked on the moon
And why Michael[3] went along for the ride.

Polo, Cortez, Lindbergh[4] all had it, too:
That obsession to see the journey through.
It pulsed in and pushed and called them to know
Like how the desert beckoned Benjamin[5].
Each step along the way is ever new.

There’re things out there the map can never show.
Those in their cages never really know.

But it’s in my blood, that calling to roam.
If you come with me, RIDE HARD OR STAY HOME!

[1] Christopher Columbus, of course.
[2] Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, of the Apollo 11 Mission, the first two men to walk on the moon.
[3] Michael Collins was also on the Apollo 11 mission, but did not walk on the moon because he had to stay aboard the command module that remained in orbit to ensure the others’ safety.
[4] Marco Polo, who explored a path to China from Europe; Cortez, who explored and conquered Central America; Charles Lindbergh, who was the first to fly solo across the Atlantic.
[5] Benjamin of Tudela, a 12th century European who explored a path to Asia from Europe, then crossed the Sahara Desert in Northern Africa.

and

Grace

I now accept the road and all it sends,
Its rocks and sand, its potholes and its bends.
I now receive the sun and rain and winds.
Reluctantly, I, too, embrace its ends.
I put my faith in this machine I ride.
On these two wheels, there is no place to hide.
It lives in me, and I in it abide.
In bolts and gears, rod and shaft I confide.
I know me, like a too familiar song.
I know just how far I can ride, how long.
I know all the places I can go wrong.
I know myself, where I am weak and strong.
When road, the ride, and rider become one
Are Peace and Grace and then the trip’s begun.

As you can see, there is a theme in my writing lately. I hope you're able to read between the lines on the second. Here are some hints: 1) The road isn't really about the road; 2) abide is a biblical word; 3) "rod" is an antiquated word used to refer to an instrument of execution, and "rod and shaft" sounds an awful lot like "rod and..."

2009-05-25T10:03:00.003-05:00

There are things they (you know who "they" are) don't tell you when you become a parent. I don't know how they would actually. I've heard people say they wished there was instruction manual on parenting.

If there were, there would need to be a different manual on every child, and probably a different manual for every stage of every child. Being a parent is hard. How do you know what to do at each moment of your child's life? I've pretty much resigned myself to the idea that no matter what I do, my children are probably going to need therapy when they get older. That's actually a very freeing concept.

I've been thinking more of the quote from Rilke I put earlier in the blog, like much earlier since I tend not to write as often as some people would like. For the quote, see the link to the side.

The questions in my heart are so many. What do I do when Jacob is so annoying and needy and my nerves are just about shot? What do I do when I've had one of the worst days in the history of the world and Caitlin decides it would be a good night to stay up and want to play? What do I do with my children?

I could be worrying about the economy, North Korea's nuclear threat, Iran's crazy dictator, America's crazy dictators, or how to convince people that global warming really is a myth. The fact is, I have enough in my home to think about.

AA has a saying, "Do the next right thing."

That pretty sums it up. I don't know what the right thing to do is tomorrow; I haven't really even dealt with this afternoon's. But I need to do the next right thing with what's in front of me. That makes life easier to deal with, because if I do the next right thing, I don't have to deal with life. Only the next right thing.

2009-05-05T22:04:00.003-05:00

Aren't they beautiful?

And funny?

Isn't that life?

4 MORE YEARS?

2008-09-21T11:20:00.007-05:00

One of Obama’s arguments, and a new mantra for his supporters is that they don’t want 4 more years of Bush’s legacy, which they think McCain will carry on. My question has become: 4 more years of what?

Let’s look at the economy first.

When President Bush took office in January of 2001, gas prices were $1.42, less than half of what they are now. In January of 2005 when Bush was sworn for his second term, gas prices were $1.71 for a net gain of $0.29 over a 4 year period (a period that included 9/11 and the invasion of Iraq). In September of 2005, gas prices had spiked to $3.00 per gallon. What happened? Hurricanes Katrina and Rita had ravished oil refineries in the gulf coast. By the end of the year, however, gas prices had dropped to $2.30 per gallon. 2006 saw a hug increase in gas prices, which the FTC attributed to oil speculators driving up the cost because of the threat of more hurricanes. In June of 2006, gas prices were once again over $3.00 per gallon. With the threat of hurricanes over, however, gas prices had dropped in October of 2006 to $2.22 per gallon. Gas prices in January of 2007 were $2.28 per gallon. A climb started now. By June of 2007, gas prices were $2.94 per gallon. A climb of $0.66 per gallon in 6 months. In January of 2008, gas prices averaged $3.00 per gallon. By June of 2008, gas prices were $4.00 per gallon on average. I write this on September 21, 2008, and gas prices today are $3.39 per gallon.

Between 2001 and 2006, and despite terror attacks, a war, and natural disasters that are unparalleled in U.S. history, gas prices went up only about $.50 per gallon. Between January 2007 and September 2008, a period of 1 year, 9 months, gas prices have risen nearly $2.00 per gallon. What’s the difference between these two time periods? A democratic congress was elected in late 2006. Why did gas prices see a sharp decline between June and September of this year? President Bush announced that he would lift the executive branch moratorium on offshore drilling and challenged congress to lift their ban on drilling in the coast. Immediately after that announcement and challenge, gas prices started their decline. Do I want 4 more years of controlled gas prices? You bet.

A footnote, the above gas prices are all average gas prices for regular grade gasoline in the Midwest. The numbers would be a little different for the east and west coast.

What about the housing crisis?

Over the last year and a half, we have seen more people lose their homes and major banking and investment firms go bankrupt, get bought out, or get bailed out. Where did this start? In 1994, President Clinton and the democratic congress enacted legislation that allowed the mess to begin. What we are seeing is not so much a fallout from failed Bush administration economic policies, but a tradition of government turning a blind eye to the dealings of greedy CEO’s. It appears that the former CEO of Freddie Mac was warned as early as 2003 that the housing bubble was about to burst. In 2001, the Federal Reserve governor Edward Gramlich issued warnings about sub-prime mortgages. In 2005, a senator stood up and warned congress that if some oversight were not imposed, Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae would explode and cause severe economic problems for the taxpayers.

Who was that senator?

John McCain.

Is the current economic crisis Bush’s fault? Yes. Is it all his fault? No. This is something for which both parties are responsible. Both parties need to work on reform of this system.

Do I want 4 more years of bad supervision over Wall Street? Not after the past 20 years have left us in this mess.

But let’s look at the economy overall. A recession is defined by economists as 2 consecutive quarters of negative economic growth. This means that for 6 consecutive months there needs to be a shrinking of the overall American economy. This has not happened. As a matter of fact, from 2001 to 2006, there was unparalleled economic growth in the United States. We had not seen such economic growth in our history. Since 2006, despite increase in fuel prices, the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage industry, and the collapse of major banking firms, there has still been consistent economic growth, although it has slowed. Slowed growth is not negative growth. Slowed growth means it has not been growing as fast as it has in the past. Negative growth means the economy is shrinking. There has been consistent, but slowed, growth of the economy.

What happened in 2006 that caused the slowed growth in the economy? The democrats took control of congress. Do I want 4 more years of decline in growth, until there really is a recession? Nope. That’s why I’m not voting democrat this year.

What about the war in Iraq? Saddam Hussein was not responsible for nor did he participate in any way in the events of 9/11. It was proven that despite what the American intelligence offices believed, he did not have weapons of mass destruction, although it has been discovered that he did have the means of producing them. We attacked Iraq for spurious reasons. I’m not going to argue that.

We are in Iraq, however, and we must deal with the situation. The question for me is: Who has the best judgment to ensure U.S. success in Iraq? John McCain was saying as early as 2004 that the means of fighting the war in Iraq were insufficient. He was calling for a change in U.S. strategy that early. Barak Obama was saying pull out. In 2007, John McCain supported the troop surge. Barak Obama was saying pull out. In 2008, we’ve seen a significant decline in violence, a government in Iraq more prepared for leadership, and a conversion of former anti-American insurgents fighting alongside our soldiers. Barak Obama is saying pull out.

Do I want 4 more years of a winning strategy in Iraq securing national interests? You bet.

What about foreign policy in general? Barak Obama does not know what he’s doing. It’s that simple. While Obama was saying that Iran was a small country that does not pose a significant threat to the U.S., John McCain was warning the administration to be watchful of Russia. This was months before the Russians invaded Georgia.

The bottom line of America’s foreign policy right now is the same bottom line as the American economy: OIL.

As long as the U.S. is dependent on foreign oil, the U.S. is vulnerable in all areas. When gas prices begin to drop, OPEC slows production to drive them back up again. OPEC is centered in the middle east where there is sympathy for those who would attack and kill thousands of innocent civilians, and use children to do so. So what do we need to do?

Drill, drill, drill. This is a short term solution, to be sure, but necessary to end our dependence on foreign oil as soon as possible. While we are drilling and decreasing our need for foreign oil, we pump money into technologies that get us off of our oil dependence altogether. Whose plan is this? John McCain’s.

One last issue that I consider to be more important than any of the others is Pro-Life. John McCain has promised to nominate judges who will not legislate from the bench and who will interpret the constitution according to what is actually written in the document, and not what they believe is “the spirit” of the document. This is very important. If those were the kind of judges on the bench in 1973, Roe v. Wade would have had a very different outcome.

I cannot in good conscience vote for Barak Obama who voted against legislation to provide medical care for infants born alive after botched abortions. Twice. The Born Alive Infants Protection Act would have required that medical assistance be given to infants born alive after abortions that were unsuccessful. The practice had been to take these children, who were alive, and put them in closets, on shelves, or in trash cans while still alive and let them die. That’s not abortion anymore, that’s infanticide. And Barak Obama supports it.

Anyway, I know there are as many opinions as there are people, but what I’ve presented are facts that are there for the finding. My opinion, formed by these facts, is pretty obvious. I’m voting for McCain/Palin.

4 more years? I'm hoping for 8.

New Pictures

2008-08-02T08:44:00.007-05:00

We took Jacob to Sears and got his 20 month pictures taken.

I Found Something to Say

2008-02-13T22:19:00.002-06:00

I only wish it were my words. Alas, Rainer Maria Rilke said it first:

". . . have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

This is from Letter 4, in the book "Letters to a Young Poet" by Rilke.

I just felt something that beautiful expressed that beautifully deserved to be shared.

I know haven't blogged for a while (two months actually). Sorry, I'll try to do better.

And the Two Shall Become One

2007-12-12T19:56:00.000-06:00

Jacob has recently started doing something interesting.

If Lesley's in the living room with him playing and I'm in the kitchen cooking supper, Jacob will take her hands, stand up, and "walk" her into the kitchen to be next to me.

Or, in the morning if I'm playing with him in the bedroom and Lesley is in the bathroom brushing her teeth getting ready for work, he will crawl to the bathroom door, open it, and sit on the threshhold so that he can see both of us.

Or, at night when we have Jacob in bed with us, he will get upset if he doesn't have one hand holding Lesley's and one hand holding mine. Holding just Lesley's or just mine isn't good enough. He has to be holding both before he settles down.

Jacob expresses in these moments a profound truth. For him, Lesley and I are not two separate people, but one. He becomes distressed when we give the appearance of separation or disunity.

I believe babies can see things adults forget to see. It's nice to have him around to remind me of the things that I should see.

Happy Birthday!!!

2007-12-03T21:28:00.000-06:00

Now, here's a kid who knows how to eat a cake!

Before:

During:

After:

Seriously, both hands...one bite...it was over. And Jacob has discovered his favorite food. He loves it. He can't get enough of it. And the best part is, two hours after his sugar overload, he's out cold for a nice long nap. Now I know what to do when I want to take a nap but he won't settle down.

I'm joking, of course.

He got some great toys. A toy telephone, which he apparently already knows how to use. The first thing he did when we got it out of the box was hold it up to his ear. He got a ride on/walk behind toy, which he loves. A mizzou tiger with a tee shirt so that he'll be ready for New Year's Day and the Cotton Bowl. A fire truck, which he dances to. A ball popper, which we found is as much fun for his 12 year old cousin as it is for him. Spider Spud, not from dad, but dad is good with it. He got an aquadoodle, not aquadots. And from Grandma and Grandpa, beer money for college.

All in all, I'd say he had a pretty good birthday. Mom agrees.

Is It Early or Late?

2007-11-30T03:46:00.000-06:00

Here I am and the clock on the computer says that's it 3:47 am. Jacob woke up about a quarter after 2. Lesley was kind enough to get him out of his room, lay him in bed with us and feed him a bottle. After chugging his bottle, he decided to lay in bed with us and discuss his day's itinerary. He's got a lot going on today; the kid would not be quiet.

He should have a lot going on today. It's the day before his first birthday.

He said he was really excited about going to school today because they're going to have his birthday party. He said he hopes he gets lots of presents from his classmates. I told him that I didn't think his classmates were going to bring him any presents. I said it would more likely be just a cupcake party with some good music. He thought for a minute, and then said that would be all right. He said he's already gotten some good presents from some friends and he'll get enough from the family party this weekend.

I speak fluent baby.

He finally fell back asleep around 3:00, but by then I was so awake from listening to his babble and having him slobber on my face that I couldn't go back to sleep. So, here I am drinking some orange juice and reflecting on how a little ball of fat and bones can so easily take over my bed and my life.

One year old.

Tomorrow.

Amazing.

I will never be the same as I was on November 30, 2006. On December 1, "all was changed, changed utterly. A terrible beauty was born."

Terrible in the sense that my heart will never, ever be inside my body again. I have become so completely vulnerable. I now fear what is worse than death; a living death without my son.

I don't need to explain the beauty of it. I mean, look at him:

Anyway, I just got the low battery warning on the laptop, so that's it for now. Besides, I really don't know that I can say much more than what I've said.

Not Much Going On

2007-11-15T21:00:00.000-06:00

So here's some recent pictures:

Some time ago I realized the truth in the fact that the only real problem I have in my life is me. Once I figured that out, honest to God, my stress disappeared.

Something to think about.

Poem of the Week: for Veteran's Day

2007-11-12T14:49:00.000-06:00

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae
Written in 1915

Show 'Em You're a Tiger

2007-11-05T21:30:00.000-06:00

Poem of the Week

2007-10-24T21:12:00.001-05:00

The poem of the week is coming a little late. Sorry. Just been crazy busy. I was feeling a bit romantic, so one would think I would turn to the Romantic Poets of the 18 and 19th centuries. No. Unfortunately, "Romantic" in that sense has a very different meaning. A hint for any guys out there: if you want a poem to woo a lady, you need to look for the Cavalier poets of the 17th century. That's where you'll find the good stuff.

IX: Song: To Celia

by Ben Johnson

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup,

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honoring thee

As giving it a hope that there

It could not withered be.

But thou thereon didst only breathe

And sentst it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,

Not of itself, but thee.

I need to come up with stuff like this, because I say really stupid things once in a while. A while back, an e-Harmony commercial came on television. I told Lesley we should send our profiles in to see if it would match us up. She asked about what if it wouldn't. I responded, "Well, we haven't been married so long to get that strong of an attachment." WRONG!!!!!

It's times like these when knowing about the Cavalier poets of the 17th century comes in handy.

Poem of the Week

2007-10-14T21:15:00.001-05:00

Ode on Solitude
Alexander Pope

Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest! who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed; sweet recreation
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Pictures

2007-10-11T20:59:00.000-05:00

I know the reason most people check out the blog is to find out how we're doing and to see pictures of the cutest baby ever. Sorry about the recent rants. I just had some stuff I had to get off my chest.

Anyway, here's some pictures. I'm trying to give a perspective of how much Jacob has grown. The pictures above are Jacob with daddy when he was 1 month old (top) and 6 months old (bottom). It's really hard to remember how small he was when we brought him home. The pictures give a perspective, but to think about holding that little guy in my hands is really difficult.

Below are three pictures. The first one is from when Jacob was 2 months old. To get a perspective on his size, we took his picture next to a piece of looseleaf paper. The next two pictures are of him when he was 2 months old (think looseleaf paper) and his 10 month picture next to the same door.

Yep, he's standing on his own now. All he needs is a hand to hold and he's pulling himself up to look around. He can step his way down the edge of the couch now, too, so we figure walking isn't too far away.

It's just hard to believe that the little bundle of fat and bones we brought home from the hospital that didn't weigh 5 pounds is getting ready to start walking. Amazing really. And fun. I love being a daddy. And being a mother has made Lesley even more beautiful than she was before, which was hard to top. Lesley is the love of my life. Jacob is the fun of my life.

Poem of the Week: Sonnet 116

2007-10-06T22:32:00.000-05:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

William Shakespeare

Gossip City, The Capitol of Missouri

2007-09-28T21:53:00.000-05:00

There's a game I think people should play at parties. It's one that's used a lot in youth groups to teach an important lesson.

You pick three members of your group and send them away. The remaining members make up a story. It could be a story about anything. It doesn't matter. Be imaginitive.

You bring those sent away back one at a time. The first one to come back hears the story from one of the members of the group who made it up. This person who is hearing the story then has to relate the story from memory to the second one to return to the group. The second hearer becomes the next story-teller to the third one sent away, who then has to repeat the story to the original group.

Normally, by the time the story gets back to the original group, it's unrecognizable. It's become so twisted and so many details forgotten, and other "details" filled in, that it's a completely different tale.

This game usually takes about 15 to 20 minutes to play. If this can happen in the space of 20 minutes, with the story only being related to 3 different people, it's no wonder that I've heard rumors about Lesley and I getting married that are completely wrong after they've been through the rumor mill of Jefferson City throughout the last week.

I had dinner with a friend the other night, who informed me that the rumors are that Lesley and I got married in Columbia by Rev. John Prenger and that our reception was at the Capital Plaza Hotel.

The only thing about this that's true is that Lesley and I did get married in Columbia last weekend. Not that it's anybody's business.

I also heard a rumor several weeks ago that I was working at KMart in Jefferson City and am completely miserable. Nothing about that is true. For the record, I'm actually happier now than I can ever remember being in my entire life. And, nothing against KMart, but I don't work there.

Frankly, it surprises and saddens me.

It surprises me because people know the lesson of the story exercise I described above. And yet, no matter how many times the gossip mill of Jefferson City proves to be wrong, people still believe what they hear.

Which leads me to why it saddens me: the reason people still believe what they hear is because they want to believe it. People want "to know." I don't know why. Perhaps people want "to know" because they sincerely care about Lesley and Jacob and me. Or perhaps, for some, people want "to know" for less generous motives. Or perhaps people want "to know" simply because they get some sense of importance out of being able to pass on information that someone else might not know. Whether that information is true or not is completely irrelevant.

In the end, I've decided that it's just not worth me spending a lot of time on. Admittedly, I've spent more time than I should have being angry about all the rumors that have followed me for more than a year now. I guess people are always just going to talk. I hope, though, that people will realize that they shouldn't believe everything they hear. As a matter of fact, people should believe nothing of what they hear, and only half of what they see.

St. Francis de Sales once took a woman who had confessed the sin of gossip up a mountain. Once they were at the top, he opened a feather pillow and allowed the wind to scatter the feathers from the pillow all across the countryside. He then instructed the woman to collect all the feathers. When she responded that she couldn't possibly re-gather all the feathers, he told her that neither could she possibly restore the damage that she had done by her gossiping.

10 Things You Should Never Say to a Woman

2007-09-18T20:49:00.000-05:00

I've learned so much from Lesley since we started sharing our lives together.

For example, I've definitely learned that there are certain things I should never say again.

For any budding romantics, please take this advice:

10) "You're not fat, you're pregnant." You see, while this seems like you're trying to affirm her, all it really does is cause some really awkward questions about how you've noticed her figure change.

9) "What difference does it make? Do you like the jeans?" She asked the ever fatal question, "Do these make my butt look big?" This was my response...once.

8) Any reference whatsoever to a woman passing gas. For the record, Lesley never passes gas.

7) "Well, you're the one growing thorns on your legs." Lesley wanted to cuddle right up until I said this.

6) I've learned that after you make a stupid comment like the one in number 7, you should never, ever, ever back it up with something like, "Oh, I see you've pulled the weeds," after she's shaved.

5)I've learned, in no uncertain terms, that men do not have the responsibility of making suggestions about breast feeding.

4) It's not that I shouldn't say anything about decorating any room in the house, but that the only thing I need to say is, "Yes, dear." Any more than that is received with one of those gracious smiles and nods of the head.

3) "But I like that shirt. I've had it for like 18 years." It's not that this is necessarily wrong to say, just useless.

2) "Will you marry me?" while she's coming out of the bathroom. Trust me, just don't.

And the number one thing you should never, ever say to a woman (especially your wife)...

1) "No." Need I explain?

Poem of the Week: Magic

2007-09-16T08:55:00.000-05:00

To go along with my blog below, I've decided to go with this poem, again by Shel Silverstein, again from the book Where the Sidewalk Ends.

Sandra's seen a leprechaun,

Eddie touched a troll,

Laurie danced with witches once,

Charlie found some goblin's gold.

Donald heard a mermaid sing,

Suzie spied an elf,

But all the magic I have known,

I've had to make myself.

My Magic Wand

2007-09-15T06:21:00.000-05:00

I found a magic wand the other day. No kidding!

Anyway, this wand, with a wave, turns anything into exactly what I want it to be. Seriously!

The computer at work was running really slow the other day. A wave of the wand and, zap! it was running even more slow.

Now, I initially thought that I wanted the computer to run more quickly, but it didn't. So I thought to myself, "Well, if I waved my wand, and the computer started running more slowly, that must mean I wanted the computer to go more slowly." So I had to ask myself, "Why would I want the computer to run more slowly?"

"It must be," I said to myself, "because I want to go down the hall and visit with Brince (one of our office support staff)." So I went down the hall and had a great talk with Brince about a movie I had just seen on racism in my class at Lincoln. Brince had some great insight into the subject and we had one of the best discussions I've ever had on the subject of racism.

Another example, I waved my magic wand at the ATM machine at my bank in order to fill my bank account with millions of dollars. When I looked at my receipt checking on my balance, there was not millions of dollars in my account. So, again, I said to myself, "I waved my wand to make my bank account have exactly the amount of money that I want in there. Why would I want to have only this amount?"

"Maybe," I answered myself, "I want to have this amount in order to practice self-discipline through budgeting, a skill that can then be utilized in other places in my life." So while I didn't get millions of dollars in my account, I did get exactly what I wanted on a deeper level.

So you see, the way the wand works is: If I wave it in order to change something, and the thing doesn't change, then I must want whatever it is to be exactly the way it is. So then I have to deepen my understanding of myself about why whatever it is I want to change is actually exactly the way it's supposed to be, the best of all possibilities. And that makes me happy with things just the way they are.

I like my magic wand. There are times in my life I've gotten what I asked for, but not what I really wanted. With my magic wand, I will always get exactly what I want, even if it's not what I ask for.

So what it comes down to is faith in the magic that even though things on the surface might not be the way I would like them to be, they are the way they should be for me at this time in my life. Then, after faith, it takes understanding why these things really are the way they should be, and I learn to be happy with them for what they are.

I'm going to wave my wand now so that everyone can have a magic wand just like mine; so that everyone can make things exactly the way they want them to be, even if things are not the way they would ask them to be.

New Feature: Poem of the Week: Hug O' War

2007-09-09T01:00:00.000-05:00

I will not play at tug o' war.

I'd rather play at hug o' war,

where everone hugs

instead of tugs,

Where everyone giggles

and rolls on the rug,

Where everyone kisses,

And everyone grins,

And everyone cuddles,

and everyone wins.

By: Shel Silverstein

From: Where the Sidewalk Ends

Sometimes I Wonder

2007-09-07T05:25:00.000-05:00

There are a few things that have me flabbergasted.

Some of them seem to stand out.

I had to go to the DMV in Columbia this week. I went on Tuesday, stopping by during a break at work. 50 people standing in line; 1 person working behind the counter. I waited 45 minutes until I had to go back to work. Admittedly, it was lunch time. So I thought I would go back during a break in the middle of the afternoon thinking that the line would have thinned because of people like me getting back to work.

Nope.

Two and a half hours later, there were 60 people in line; 1 person working at the counter.

I decided to skip out of work 10 minutes early so I could get there right before they closed. Nothing doing. They closed 5 minutes early.

So I went back the next morning, deciding to call in late for work so that I could get everything done. The doors opened with about 10 people waiting outside. 4 people working behind the counter.

Where were all these DMV empoyees Tuesday?

And how do people in Columbia get anything done? No offense my Columbia readers, but I mean, geeze. Seriously, how do you people get anything done?

I told my tale of woe to a coworker who lives in Columbia. This person said to me, "Oh yeah, whenever I need to do anything with the DMV, I take the day off work."

Wow.

That's all I can say about that.

To be honest, Jefferson City's ain't all that much better.

So, one of the things that most amazes me is the DMV.

Anyway, I had to go to the DMV because I bought a motorcycle.

2007-09-03T12:51:00.000-05:00

I'm a little bit twisted. I'll admit it.

I do things to Jacob just to see how he reacts.

For example, there is a little, yellow, rubber ducky that he loves to play with and chew on in the bathtub. I'll take it away from him and set it across the little child's tub he sits in just to see what he does. He gets so mad and starts splashing water everywhere.

The even more twisted part is, I think it's funny.

Jacob is starting to focus on things, not only visually, but mentally as well. For example, the other day he was wanting to chew on the cable from the controller to the Playstation. Lesley and I spent about five minutes trying to distract him from it. We presented him other toys, carried him across the room, and tried to hold him and cuddle him to get him to leave the cable alone.

He wanted that cable, by golly, and he was gonna get it. No matter what we did, he fought it. He would take the toy and toss it aside. We would carry him across the room; he would crawl right back. We tried to cuddle him in a different room; he would twist and squirm until we let him down. And then he started to crawl back to the living room! He wanted that cable!

That's a very good sign of development. It's called "permanence of memory." It means that he's beginning to create mental images of what he wants instead of just wanting whatever happens to be in front of him.

Anyway, there isn't much activity on the homefront. We just keep plugging away at life.

Healthy Baby

2007-08-25T06:51:00.000-05:00

Jacob had a regular doctor's visit this week. He's a healthy little guy. The doctor's words were something to the order of: "I'm really impressed with how well he's doing."

The low-down is basically this: Jacob is 8 months old. He was 7 weeks early. His adjusted age is only 6 1/2 months old then. The doctor said that he is doing things that 9 month olds usually do.

Can you tell I'm a proud daddy?

He is amazing. A long time ago, Lesley and I were visiting some friends. The mom in the family told us, "You know, you hear people talk about having a kid as 'miraculous', 'life changing', 'fulfilling', 'amazing'. The fact is having a kid is fun." She was dead on.

Oh, and by the way, the doctor said one more ear infection and he's getting tubes. Doc asked which color would we like. He was serious.

I've Been Thinking...

2007-08-20T19:39:00.000-05:00

Lesley and I were talking the other day about God's omniscience and human free will. You know, the kind of thing most people talk about on the way to the grocery store.

Anyway, we were discussing how human free will works with God being omniscient, and it occurred to me that God is like a GPS tracker.

When we were on vacation in San Diego, we rented a car and got a GPS computer to show us around San Diego. The GPS guided us through San Diego. "In 1 mile, turn right," it would say. Or, "In .2 miles, stay left." Or, "In 1 mile, turn right and arrive at destination." (This last part was usually pronounced in a very smug voice, as if this little box were very proud of itself fro having guided us correctly.)

Every once in a while, because of traffic or maybe because there was something up ahead that looked interesting, we weren't able or chose not to follow the directions of the GPS. Then the machine would flash, "Revising Route." It would then change the directions it would give us in order to guide us back to where we were supposed to be.

That's a lot like how God's omniscience and human free will work. God knows the way we are supposed to go, and is constantly giving us directions because he sees the whole path we are supposed to take. We, however, are driving the vehicle, and so we have control over whether we follow God's directions. If we can't, or more often, choose not to follow God's lead, he revises our route, and faithfully begins to give us new directions to get us back on track.

God is faithful, and will always be there to guide us, even when we take turns, or refuse to turn, when he tells us to do something else.

GPS: God's Positioning System.

Anyway, here's pictures of the baby:

Sick Again

2007-08-16T20:46:00.001-05:00

Little guy is sick again. He's been running a fever and screaming at night. It's not very fun. But he's still really cute.

See:

It's Official

2007-08-10T21:41:00.001-05:00

Jacob is crawling. Not just the scooching, lunging, rolling that he's been doing. He got up on all fours and moved his little arms and legs.

Watching him develop is the most amazing thing.

Being a parent is just fun.

Everything Is Good

2007-08-08T20:41:00.000-05:00

As Shannon pointed out in the comments, everything is good in our world. Life is pretty routine these days.

There is a great line in the Simpson's episode "A Milhouse Divided". This is the episode in which Milhouse's parents get a divorce. Homer is talking to Milhouse's dad, who is warning Homer not to take his marriage to Marge for granted. Homer responds completely confident in his relationship with Marge, "Marge and I have one thing that can never be broken: a strong marriage built on a solid foundation of routine."

That's pretty much our life right now. We're going to work, coming home, spending our evenings together, visiting friends occasionally, and pretty much following the routine.We're trying hard to keep Jacob on a schedule, but when we think we've got it down (he's going to bed at 8:30 pretty regularly), he goes and decides to stay up and play until 11:00. He's kind of funny that way. We keep working with him, to regularize his schedule. It's actually kind of fun.

Speaking of The Simpson's, I loved the movie. Oh man, I laughed for an hour and a half.

Anyway, that's it from Jamie, Lesley and Jacob-land.

I put a disclaimer about placing comments on the blog over in the side bar. If you want to leave a comment, make sure you see that first.

The Best Vacation Ever

2007-07-15T07:50:00.000-05:00

We went on vacation to beautiful San Diego, CA. It was great. We spent a couple of days with Lesley's cousin Matt who is just an all-around great guy.

Then we went to the San Diego Zoo and got to see pandas, lions, bears, lots of birds, camels, pigs (The female pigs were much more exciting than the male pigs. I mean, the male pigs were just a bunch of real boars!) and Lesley's favorites, the giraffe.

The next day, we went to Sea World San Diego, which was really cool. Daddy fed some dolphins and mommy actually got to pet one, too. That was really cool. We saw baluga whales, polar bears, penguins, sharks, and got splashed by Shamu.

We left Matt's place, and went to Coronado Island, where we spent the rest of our vacation. We stayed at the lavish Hotel Del Coronado, which is amazing. It overlooks the Pacific Ocean, and Jacob even got to sit in the ocean for a little bit.

It was a great time. I don't know what else to say. It was just a great time.

Still Sick

2007-06-14T19:19:00.000-05:00

We've been giving Jacob his antiobotics for a week now, and he just didn't seem to be getting any better.

Lesley took him back to the doctor today, who said that now he has an ear infection. We had been giving him a pretty low dose of amoxycillin. We've also noticed that he's had some diarrhea and a rash. We kind of expected the diarrhea. Antibiotics can do that. But the rash makes us think that he's probably allergic to the amoxycillin. He would get that from daddy.

I'm allergic to penicillin, and the differing variations thereof. We're going to let the doc know about the rash to see what he thinks.

Anyway, the doc gave him a prescription for azithromycin, "Super-Antibiotic." Hopefully, this will take care of him. The poor little guy is so miserable right now. You can see it in his eyes.

Mommy, Daddy doesn't feel very good.

2007-06-13T06:13:00.000-05:00

Big man is sick.

We're trying to teach Jacob the importance of sharing. You can never start that kind of thing too young.

In an effort to show us just how much he's learned, he's decided to give daddy his cold and sinus infection. So now we're both sick, and Lesley is taking good care of us. Poor girl.

Probably had something to do with him sucking on his hands and then sticking his hands into daddy's mouth. Just a theory.

Anyway, our house is now like the Simpon's episode, where the whole town of Springfield orders these juicers from Japan, and the "Osaka Flu" gets sent over. Everyone gets sick except Marge, who gets put in jail because while stressed out, she accidently shoplifts a bottle of bourbon for Grandpa Simpson. Lesley hasn't been caught stealing though, at least not yet.

Anyway, Jacob and I are doing a lot of father and son types of activites, now, like sneezing out thick green mucus, snorting as we try to breathe, and taking our daily antibiotics. It's a real family affair.

Daddy, I don't feel very good.

2007-06-10T05:22:00.000-05:00

Little man is sick.

He started day care Friday, June 1. By Tuesday, he was up in the middle of the night screaming his little head off. Lesley took him to the doctor, and it turns that he had gotten a cold that turned into a sinus infection.

He's all boogers, snot, and this goopy green stuff coming out of the corner of his eyes now.

We can see an improvement in him. He's sleeping through the night again now, at least as much as ever did. He'll fall asleep about 8:30, 9:00. Then wake up between 4:30 and 5:00 in the morning. We usually feed him, and he falls back to sleep while we are getting ready for the day.

Everybody keeps saying, "Well, this is good. He's gotta build his immune system."

They weren't the ones up with him while he was screaming for two hours in the middle of the night because his throat was sore. It's not that I don't want him not to build up his immune system. I do want him to do that. But isn't there like a vitamin C supplement we could give him?

Anyway, he's still really cute. Even when he's got snot running out of both nostrils into his mouth.

Everything I need to know in life...

2007-06-01T18:10:00.000-05:00

I learned from my 6 month old.

Jacob is six months old today, and to celebrate, I've been thinking about some of the things he has taught me so far in his short, but wisdom-filled life.

1. People want to do things for me when I smile. When I scream, people might move faster, but they don't necessarily move more willingly.

2. All I really need to be happy is some clean britches and a full belly.

3. I can communicate more love with a smile than with a million words.

4. Mommies are, generally speaking, more interesting than daddies.

5. There's nothing like a good burp to make a person feel better.

6. Farts can be cute.

7. Just because I can roll over, doesn't necessarily mean I should.

8. Mommies often walk a tightrope between giving attention to baby and giving attention to daddy.

9. It is possible to produce over 10 gallons of drool in a 24 hour period.

10. There really are only three things that I should ever get upset about: A) When I'm hungry; B) When I'm tired; C) When I should change my pants as quickly as possible.

11. There's no more comfortable place than in the arms of someone who loves you more than life.

12. Adults are often too rational to understand really what is going on.

13. Swinging is fun.

14. I don't have to worry about anything because I know that no matter how tired their arms may get, I will have someone to hold me up.

15. Taking a nap whenever and wherever I feel like is not such a bad idea.

16. The most pressing question I have whenever I experience something new is, "Will it fit in my mouth?"

17. Everything is fascinating.

Jacob's head is growing faster than the rest of him, proportionally speaking. "Nothing to worry about," the doctor says. I never thought it would be something to worry about. To me, it's just a sign that he's got a really big brain, and based on the life lessons he's taught me so far, there can be no denying it. Jacob is one smart cookie.

Pictures of My Musical Muse

2007-02-20T21:32:00.000-06:00

Singing a New Song

2007-02-18T14:33:00.000-06:00

Having a baby has brought some new talents in me that I didn't know I had. For example, when the little guy is grumpy, I find myself making up songs. Some are songs that are completely original, like "I've Got the Baby Bath Blues":

Well, my name is Jacob.
And I've got the blues.
I said my name is Jacob.
And I've got the blues.
Cuz I hate being naked.
It's the baby bath blues.

Well, now mommy,
She treats me right.
And my daddy,
always by my side.
But when it's bathtime,
Two worlds collide.

I start to screamin'
Pitch quite a fit.
I start to squirmin'
to get out of it.
I hate that bath.
I hate it bad.
Please let me go,
Won't ya, mom and dad.

My name is Jacob.
I've got the blues.
I said my name is Jacob.
I've got the blues.
I hate bein' naked.
Right down to my shoes.
My name is Jacob
And I've got the baby bath blues.

Oh yeah.

Then there are songs I make up the tune of other songs. This one can be sung to the melody of the Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash.

Well, I have a poop a comin'.
It's comin' round the bend.
And I've been a pushin'
out my rear end.
But it just ain't a happenin'.
No, I just can't poop.
I know when it gets here
it's gonna be like soup.

Well, I am just a baby,
my momma tells me, "Son,
I get so worried when
Your poop won't come."
I really am a tryin'.
Trust me mom and dad.
I really am a pushin'.
I want to poop so bad.

Oh man there it comes,
No, I won't stop now.
Boy I filled that diaper, and
I need a new one now.
Change my dirty diaper.
Make me fresh and clean.
You said you wanted poop.
Aren't you proud of me?

These songs probably aren't grammy material, but they sure get him to stop crying. Jacob loves music. Whenever he starts hollering, we start singing and he gets quiet and listens so intently that you think he would sing along.

I wonder if that's going to be a sign of something later.

Anyway, that's all the news. There will be pictures coming soon. I promise.

Time, Time, Time

2007-02-02T21:47:00.000-06:00

See what's become of me?

You know. You go to work.

You come home.

You go to school.

You stop by the store.

You change a diaper.

You eat a Reese's Peanut Cup.

You do some homework.

You hold your baby.

You take out the trash.

You find a dime on the ground.

You drink a cup of tea.

You stop by McDonald's.

You gas up your car and wash the windshield while you're there.

You wait in line.

Everywhere.

Your lips get chapped because of the cold.

You sleep.

You get some laundry done.

And scrub your tub.

And get old.

And the tic, tic, toc of the clock doesn't slow or speed up.

Relentless, the unstoppable object.

And it's been two weeks since you've blogged,

or checked your email,

or phoned the people who are closest to you.

The Game is Afoot!

2007-01-19T08:03:00.000-06:00

It's become a game really. Like playing chess with a master champion.

You see, it began with a simple scream. We would change his diaper. End of game. We win.

But then he adapted.

Scream. Go to change his diaper. Get peed on. One for him.

We adapted. We started waiting a minute while he finished his business.

He's really smart though.

Scream. Wait a little. Diaper's wet, good. Change him. Then he would poop while his diaper was off. One for him.

We changed our tactics. We would wait for the familiar sounds that let us know there was more in the diaper than the liquid gold. We were winning again.

He truly is really smart though.

He screams. We wait for the sounds that tell us his own special little gift for us has arrived. We go to change him, but he holds on to just enough to make a mess while the diaper was off again.

How do I know he's doing this on purpose as a little game? That he's really that smart?

Because he never does this at Grandma's house.

Don't let the pretty face fool you. There's a mastermind lurking underneath that innocent exterior.

Nothing New, But Good News

2007-01-11T20:17:00.000-06:00

I've had a few people lately comment on how there hasn't been any blogging for a bit. That's true. I've been pretty busy with stuff at work. And this is just a catch-up to what's been going on in our lives.

I'm gearing up for my next semester at school. Forging ahead with the academic work I need to complete so that I can eventually be a licensed counselor. Work is going on as usual. I love working with the kids. Teenagers are just cool.

Lesley is dreading her return to work next week. Other than that, she just continues to amaze me with what a good mommy she is.

Jacob is, well, awake more now. We're trying to get his night and day rhythms worked out, but it might be a while yet. As of today, he's still "negative one week old." That's the way we were told to think about him developmentally. He smiles a lot though, probably just as much as he screams. He's a little chatter box, too. Of course, most of his chatter is just grunts and grimaces.

We're doing fine. Everyone is still healthy, which is a real blessing considering how much cold and flu has gone through our families over the holidays.

And that's all the news. When I can, I'll put up some more pictures and maybe some top ten's and maybe even a few pick-up lines.

Lessons Learned

2006-12-30T18:28:00.000-06:00

I've had my child in the world now a whole month, and there are some really cool things about being a dad. I know that this list is not exhaustive in any way. I also know that there are great things yet to come, but I thought I would share

THE TOP 10 COOLEST THINGS ABOUT BEING A DAD:

10. Being able to talk about poop and pee and farts in public places without being considered rude. This is a privilege only parents have.

9. Sometimes, when I'm holding Jacob, I look at his little face and can't help but laugh. He makes the funniest little faces. See:

8. A very cool thing has been watching Lesley with him. She used to get freaked out at the thought of poop and vomit. I actually watched him pee on her when she was bathing him. I guess the warm water relaxed him enough to erupt. She reached down with her hand and blocked the natural spring from getting all over the floor. She is amazing.

7. Watching his development, from a grey blob on an ultrasound to a miniature me with Lesley's eyes. Modern medicine is amazing.

6. Not being able to get a darn thing done. This is only my 4th in the countdown, but I've already had to get up and move away from this blog 6 times. And I'm about to take another break to feed him. Now, one could either get really annoyed by this, or one can decide that it is actually pretty cool just to be there for him. I've decided that it is actually pretty cool.

5. 3 words: Homer. Simpson. Slippers. Every dad wants 'em; every dad needs 'em.

4. The goodness of people is a very cool thing. It's something I've always known, but ever since Jacob came along, people have been acting like saints to Lesley and me. People are so good.

3. Getting the very best Christmas present this year than I have ever gotten in my life:

2. Staying up all night with a cranky baby. You know what: people might not think this is so cool, but the alternative is that Jacob is not here. It is very cool that he is here, even if he is cranky all night. I'd rather have him cranky than not have him at all.

1. The number one coolest thing about being a dad after just one month of experience: The profound sense of gratitude that swells up inside of me every time I look at him and Lesley. I have so much to be thankful for. I don't deserve anything. I have not earned the love that God has shown me. I am unworthy of the trust that he has placed in me, asking me to steward this little family. But here I am, challenged to live out a deeper integrity than I have ever lived before, and grateful for every second of my life, every friend, every kind word and generous act, and grateful for the life that I have been given. I wake up every morning grateful for the new grace that awaits me. I wake up every morning grateful.

So, there they are, the 10 coolest things about being a dad so far. One of the coolest things that should be on this list probably is the great gift of friendship that so many have offered. Thank you, my friends.

Thank you.

I'm Holding Him Now

2006-12-24T01:33:00.000-06:00

As I type this sitting in our living room in the middle of the night because of a burst of activity in his diaper, I'm holding him close to me.

He's home.

It's 1:35 in the morning. I changed his diaper, but he only ate a little while ago, so I haven't fed him anything. I'm awake. He's floating somewhere between conscious and bliss (which consists of a pacifier, tightly swaddled blanket, and a clean diaper). I'm awake.

He's home.

He and I had a nap earlier today after getting home from the hospital. Lesley thougt it would be cute to get a picture of that. I have never been so tired, or so happy in my life.

He's home.

He looks so tiny in his bed. But he's in HIS bed.

He's home.

Thank you all for your prayers and support. I don't know what else to say.

My son is home.

HE'S COMING HOME!!!

2006-12-21T21:52:00.000-06:00

Maybe.

All of the nurses told us that a little guy like Jacob could be struggling and struggling and struggling, and then all of a sudden just decide, "OK, I'll eat now."

That's what Jacob did. My last update was written in near despair. He was having such a hard time catching his breath. We left that Monday night with heavy hearts. We went back on Tuesday and the little booger had been taken off his oxygen completely, was eating more, and more quickly than he had ever eaten, and was still just as cute as ever.

I can't help but think that his primary nurse, Erin, had something to do with it. She's the one I mentioned in my blog from Sunday, when I said leaving him there was more like leaving him in the care of a dear friend than the hands of a bunch of strangers. I'm going to start calling her "The Baby Whisperer."

He just decided he wanted to come home after all.

So here's the deal, if he does really well overnight tonight, (Thursday, 12/21), then tomorrow night we spend the night in the hospital with him in a special "Care by Parent" room, and we bring home Saturday morning.

Lesley's had some fun with him. He went off like Old Faithful while she was changing his diaper. We didn't get any pictures, though. Thankfully, he's as regular as Old Faithful is, too. But I don't think we'll have the camera ready.

He's so funny, and we can't wait until everyone gets to meet him. There are a few things we need to say up front, though. The nurses have told us that we are bringing him home in the middle of cold and flu season. While a cold or flu can be dangerous to a baby born at term, it can be deadly to a premie. So if you're sick, or if you've been sick, please be patient. He's not going anywhere for at least 18 years, so everyone will be able to meet him.

Also, we've been told that premies shouldn't be overstimulated. They're just not ready for a lot of googling and playing "Pass the Baby." We were told that too much stimulation can actually wear them down so much that they forget to breathe. So for the first couple of months we're going to keep his visitors per day down to a minimum, and of course, family always have first crack at him.

We've learned some interesting things about premies. Jacob was nearly 2 months early. That means that his development will actually seem like he is doing everything 2 months later than it feels like he should be. As far as he is concerned, from his birthday, he still had 2 months to do nothing but sleep and make mommy nauseous. He will crawl, get teeth, pretty much everything, later than it feels like he should, because his developmental age is 2 months younger than his actual age. I thought that was really interesting, but it makes sense.

Anyway, YOUR, OUR prayers have worked. We may have that special Christmas Present under the tree Christmas morning.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

He's not home yet. So keep praying. And even after he is home, you could say a few, too.

Thank you all.

Quick Update

2006-12-18T20:30:00.000-06:00

Jacob is still on his oxygen support. The oxygen content in his blood bounces, especially after he's been active, had a lot of visitors, or has just eaten. By being active we mean after he has screamed bloody murder while having his diaper changed. He lay there so quiet and passive for so long, that I'm actually happy when I hear him scream now. That sounds really cruel, and it probably kind of is. But we talk him through this most traumatic event, and he settles down pretty quickly.

He's receiving oral feedings every other time now. The other feedings he receives through the tube that runs in his nose down to his stomach. They have increased the amount he's getting now to 40 cc's, or 1 and 1/3 ounces. That's good news.

Other than that, there's really no news. We're beginning to come to terms with the fact that he may not be home with us on Christmas. We keep praying though, and we know you will, too. There's still a week left.

We just miss our little boy. We want him home.

Sunday Sermon

2006-12-17T07:31:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking a lot about a question Lesley and I get asked pretty frequently, "Why was Jacob born so early?"

The doctors and nurses have repeated the same thing to us. It comes down to we don't know. In most cases, one nurse even gave us the number of 90%, no reason is found for premature births.

I know the reason: Original Sin.

That may sound harsh at first, but let's review for a second what Original Sin is. Original sin is not sin by personal fault. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that Original Sin is "sin" only by analogy. Original Sin is that state of being into which we are born that is a fundamental lack of unity, unity with God, with our neighbor and our world, and with ourselves. This lack of unity causes suffering. Original Sin is the source of all suffering. Every bad thing that has ever happened finds its source in Original Sin.

We see the result of Original Sin in the physical world through such things as sickness, when the body is in disunity with itself. Some foreign element, such as a virus, causes the harmony naturally found within the body to become unbalanced. Or perhaps the body itself, such as in the case of cancer, is fighting against itself. These are no one's fault. It just happens. If humanity as a whole did not suffer Original Sin, there would be no colds, there would be no cancer.

In the birth of my son, we see the result of Original Sin in the fact that he was born premature. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't Lesley's fault. The doctors and nurses continue to say, "It's just something that happens sometimes, and we may never know why."

So this leads us to the next question, "Why would God allow these things to happen? Doesn't he have the power to stop them?"

Original Sin is the result of human choice. Humanity as a whole decided to separate ourselves from God. Which of us has not personally sinned? Except for Jesus, no one has deserved by his or her own merit to be free from the consequence of sin. Only Jesus has deserved this, which is why the ultimate consequences of Original Sin, suffering and death, could not bind him. He broke through suffering and death by the choices he made throughout his life on earth to obey completely the will of his Father. It was not only by his suffering and death that we were saved, but by his entire life as well. Just as all humanity chooses to be against God in the sin of one man, Adam, so all humanity has chosen to be with God in the obedience of one man, Christ.

Original Sin is the consequence of human choice, then. When God created us with free will, he bound his own power. He chose not to use his power to trump our free will. If God were to remove the consequences of our choice, in effect, he would remove the choice itself. What is a choice without consequences? It's not a choice at all.

So bad things happen as a result of that original human choice in Original Sin, and God permits these consequences to play out because he bound himself not to violate our freedom. God did not abandon us, though. Here is the real meaning of all of this.

God works in mysterious ways, so that the consequences of Original Sin do not have to devastate us as much as they could.

Years ago, God arranged that I would develop a friendship with a family who has all-wheel drive vehicles so that Lesley and I could get to the hospital after the worst snow storm in 10 years. God gave us friends that would suffer great personal risk to help us.

The worst snow storm in 10 years occurred the day before my son was born. I was scheduled to work from 4 to midnight that Friday evening. Am I saying God sent the snow storm? No. But it's interesting to me how every street and every driveway had been plowed clean that Friday morning, every street and every driveway except our street and our driveway. Why did those who were responsible for cleaning our subdivision not clean ours? I couldn't get Lesley's 4-wheel-drive SUV out of the driveway to go to work, because whoever was responsible for clearing our street and driveway didn't do it. Who knows what might have happened if I had gone to work that day?

God has surrounded us with friends years ago who can, despite our sin, still love us and be incredibly generous to us, supporting us through prayer and gifts for Jacob, opening their homes to us in Columbia, preparing meals for us so that we can eat when we are home without needing to put much effort into preparing our meals. We are not alone as we suffer through the hospitalization of our son because of the friends God has placed in our lives long ago.

God placed a family in my life, one of whom works as a nurse at the NICU at Columbia Regional, so that leaving Jacob there doesn't feel like we are leaving him in the hands of strangers, but rather in the care of a dear friend.

God allowed Lesley and I to be born into families who are able to love us despite our sin, to forgive us and welcome us as members of each other's families. He did that years ago, before we were even conscious of his love.

God has been working throughout our lives to make sure that Lesley and I are capable of handling this situation, surrounding us with family and friends who love us so that we do not have to be alone in this struggle.

God, because of his choice to bind his own power, could not stop the premature birth of our son. God can, because of his all knowing and all powerful love, ease the suffering by working for us, even years ago, in ways that we could not comprehend.

This is how God works, "He has made everything beautiful in its time."

Not Much To Report

2006-12-14T21:49:00.000-06:00

That pretty much says it all.

Jacob's continuing to improve. He's still on oxygen support, although we think the fluid in his lungs is nearly completely gone. What caused the concern is that his oxygen levels would bounce if he got really active and immediately after he ate. Through the bouncing, though, he would maintain a good pink color (no turning blue or anything like that).

He's been out of his heated bed since yesterday, and continues to keep his body temperature up in the normal range. They've gone to feeding him every other time with the bottle. They've increased his food amount. When he first started bottle feeding last week he would take only 6 cc's of milk. When we left him today, he was up to 35. Just so you know, 30 cc's equals 1 ounce. Basically, right now, he's eating a little over an ounce of food every three hours.

His weight dropped a little, but that was because of the medicine they gave him to get the fluid out of his lungs. The medicine is meant to dehydrate him so that his body will pull the fluid from his little lungs itself. In doing so, however, he lost some water weight.

There's still some really good hope that he'll be home by Christmas. This week's attending physician (they switch the lead doctor weekly) seemed pretty positive today. "He's doing really well," she said, "and there's still 10 days before Christmas."

So, we keep praying, we know you keep praying for him and us. Thank you all so much for that.

3 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back

2006-12-13T21:16:00.000-06:00

Jacob has made some serious progress forward. He is taking his bottle at every other feeding now. That's awesome. He's been taken out of his isolette and is kept warm and cozy, wrapped up in blankets. This means he's been maintaining his body temperature well. He's had the IV in his arm taken out. These are all really positive steps.

He's taken a small step backwards. He had some fluid on his lungs. They had to put him back on his oxygen support. They've given him some medication to bring the fluid out of his lungs, and hopefully he will be able to go back to breathing room air tomorrow (Thursday 12/14).

Over all, really great positive steps, and one minor misstep. We're still hoping he will be home by Christmas.

Thanks for all the support you've shown us. Thanks especially for your prayers.

An Over-Exciting Day

2006-12-10T09:04:00.000-06:00

Jacob had a big day yesterday. Some family was alowed in to see him, and he pooped!

He had pooped a couple of times early in his hospital stay, but hadn't dumped for about a week. Yesterday, the nurse described it as "explosive." Good for him. He got that from mommy!

He had some visitors from Lesley's family. Right now, family is really all that is allowed in to see him. A lot of folks have asked if they could stop by for a visit. One of the things that they told us about premies is that they're really not supposed to be over-stimulated. A lot of handling and oohing and aahing will zap their energy.

So all that was going on yesterday with his visitors, but he hung on a like a champ. As soon as we can, we will let people know when they can come and see him. It might be when he gets home, in which case we'll be inviting people over for dinner.

They have reduced his bottle feeds to one a day, which is a minor set-back from how he was doing. Again, they said that's not all that uncommon. Before they feed him, they pull the food contents from his stomach up through the tube running down his nose, just to see how much of it he has digested. We need him to digest a little more, but he's actually doing pretty good.

Thanks for the prayers. They really are working. Please keep them up so we can have a special present under the tree Christmas morning.

A Popular Name for A Popular Baby

2006-12-07T16:50:00.000-06:00

A recent MSN article relates the top 10 baby names picked in 2006. Coming in at a whopping number 2 is "Jacob."

Jacob is actually a Hebrew name from which the name James is derived. It means "usurper" or "supplanter."

We gave him the middle name Marion because that is my grandfather's name, and my Papa is the closest thing to a real father I've had since my biological father left when I was in kindergarten. I wanted to honor him and thank him for his influence on me.

Update!

He's off his supplemental oxygen. He's got that unicorn horn of an IV tube out of his forehead. He got to eat today! Now we are watching his temperature to make sure that he can maintain it on his own. And we are going to begin looking for consistent weight gain.

Thanks for the prayers. Their working. Please, keep them up.

Frequently Asked Question

2006-12-05T21:55:00.000-06:00

We've had some Frequently Asked Questions, and so I've decided to put the answers here.

The number one question we get asked is: Do we need anything?

NO CLOTHES!!!!

The boy's not even a week old and he's got more clothes than Lesley!

We do need prayers for Jacob for a speedy strengthening. To answer another FAQ, "When will we get to bring him home?" We honestly don't know. We've been told everything from, "It could be a minimum of two weeks," to "He'll be there until his due date (January 18)."

We desperately want him home for Christmas. You know what they say, "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

We hope he will wake up with us on Christmas morning. The worst in our case is that he will be there until mid-January. We will not bring him home early just to be with us; that would be selfish. We know it is better for him to be strong when he comes home. We continue to hope, though.

If you could pray that he gets strong quickly, that's what we need more than anything.

Another question that we've been asked is "Why was he born premature?" We've asked that question ourselves. The answer is, we do not know why he was born so premature. The doctors and nurses have told us that in the majority of premature births, a reason is never discovered. It's just something that happens sometimes.

We want to reiterate our thanks to everyone. Once again, we really don't need anything except your prayers and friendship, which we know we already have. Thank you all so much for all that you have already done for us.

And the last frequently asked question, "How is he doing?"

He's been moved to the lowest level of oxygen support, and will soon be taken off of it.

Tomorrow (Thursday 12/7) he will have another ultrasound of his heart to make sure the hole is closed. If it is, then he will begin to eat tomorrow, which means they can begin to look for weight gain soon.

Mommy was with him almost all day today, and got to hold him pretty much the whole time they were together. We thought it would be several days before we would get to hold him, considering the jaundice and all. The entire time he was out of the isolette (his special heated bed), his temperature maintained a consistent 98.6. That's very good news. He was wrapped up in blankets the whole time, so he was pretty cozy. The only thing that does is make me jealous. I wish I could spend all day wrapped up nice and cozy in my blankets.

Admit it, you do, too.

He had an IV tube inserted into the vein in his forward. You know, the one that pulses when he gets mad. They said that would be removed either tonight (Wednesday 12/6) or tomorrow morning. They were using it to administer his medication.

Well, that's all the news from Lake Woebegone, you know, where all the children are above average.

We love you all.

An Update

2006-12-05T21:19:00.000-06:00

Jacob is doing fine.

One of the doctors made the comment that he was very pleased with how quickly Jacob was able to come off the ventilator.

It was a bit of shock seeing him yesterday. He was on an oxygen tube to help sustain the oxygen in his blood. It was a small thing that wrapped around his head and was inserted into the nose. When we went to see him yesterday, they had removed the small tube and replaced it with a huge monstrosity of a thing that has to be held in place by a cap that he wears. When I expressed my shock, they said it is actually a step up from what he was on before. I've noticed it myself. The first, smaller oxygen tube was held firmly in place. This larger one is much more loose, so that it easily falls out. The good thing is that when it falls out of his nose, his oxygen levels remain consistent for a good period of time.

They did find a "hole" in Jacob's heart. This "hole" is part of an unborn baby's normal circulatory system. For children who are born at term, it closes either right before birth, or right after. Because Jacob is so premature, they have administered a medicine to tell his body to close this hole. This hole allowed un-oxygenated blood to circulate back into his body. When it closes, all un-oxygenated blood will go to the lungs to receive oxygen, and then it will go back through the heart. This will also help him maintain his blood oxygen levels.

I mentioned earlier that he had blood in his urine, and that this is also normal for children who are born premature. Well, all blood is gone out of his urine now. However, as long as he is on the medicine closing the hole in his heart, he will continue to receive his nutrients intravenously. The hope is that he will be able to start eating within a couple of days, possibly Thursday or Friday.

He is continuing to maintain his body temperature with the help of a heat lamp. He won't be able to do this independently until he can eat, and put a little meat on his body, some fat to help insulate himself. His birthweight was 4 pounds, 7 ounces. He has actually lost weight at the moment. This is normal, as well. When born, his little body was saturated with fluid from being in the womb. As that fluid has been excreted through the bowels or evaporated from his skin, he lost fluid weight, but not essential weight. As I said, hopefully, he will be able to start eating on Thursday or Friday, and begin gaining fat weight, which is necessary and very cute.

You know it, we all love fat babies.

He is jaundiced right now, which is very common even for term babies. He gets to spend his days underneath a specialized "tanning lamp." It gives him all the good light of the sun without any of the harmful rays. So he really won't be tan when he's done, but he will be less yellow.

We got to hold him the other day, but only for a brief time. Until the jaundice is relieved, we won't be able to hold him again, but hopefully by then he will be off the supplemental oxygen as well, and able to eat.

Now, here's what you've all been waiting for:

A Bit of a Surprise

2006-12-03T21:05:00.000-06:00

We had a bit of a surprise this weekend. About 3:00 Friday afternoon, Lesley started having contractions. We called the doctor, who was not too concerned. She advised Lesley to take a couple of Tylenol and a hot bath, drink some water, and relax. If the contractions were still happening in a couple of hours, we should come to the hospital.

5:00 rolls around and Lesley is still having contractions, except now they are 3 minutes apart and intensely painful. We call the doctor who tells us to come to the hospital as soon as possible.

Problem: Our street had not been cleared of snow from the worst snow storm in ten years, and we couldn't get our car out of the driveway. We called our good friends Paul and Becki Rockers, who owned an all-wheel drive vehicle, and Paul braved the icy streets to come to pick us up. Lesley and I walked through the snow to an area of our subdivision, about 50 yards, to a place where the street had been cleared, where Paul picked us up and took us to St. Mary's.

When we described what was happening, the nurse's began to move a little more quickly. They examined Lesley, and told us that she was indeed in real labor and that we would be having a baby that evening.

And so it was.

For the guys, Jacob Marion Smith was born. Pictures are attached.

For the ladies, he was 4 pounds, 7 ounces, with a thin layer of dark hair. Our doctor was Dr. Dodson. He was delivered through c-section because he was breech. Lesley should be released Monday (12/4) from St. Mary's. Jacob was transported up to Columbia Regional's Newborn Intensive Care Unit, where he will have to stay for a minimum of 2 weeks, and possibly until his due date of January 18. All of the nurses have said that 4.7 is a good weight for a 33 week premie. There are four things he will need to do before he can come home with us. He has to be able to maintain his own body temperature, which they said he is doing fairly well, but some improvement will be good. They said he needs to be able to eat, about which they also said that it wouldn't be a problem because he is sucking on his pacifier like a champ. They said he needs to be able to sustain consistent weight gain. We don't know about that yet because they haven't fed him yet as a there was blood in his urine. The amount of blood in his urine has been steadily decreasing, and we can begin feeding him as soon as the blood is gone. The blood, they said, was a normal consequence of the physical trauma that he endured, being born so premature. Lastly, he needs to be able to maintain a healthy amount of oxygen in his blood, which is the number one thing they are watching right now. They said he seems to be doing well with that, but again, they are hoping for consistent improvement there.

Thank you all for your love and support. Thanks especially to Paul and Becki, without whom we wouldn't have gotten to the hospital. Thanks to our Columbia friends, who have invited us into their homes to ease the commute for us. Thanks to all of you for your prayers and support. Please keep praying. Jacob isn't in any immediate, severe danger, but he needs your prayers to make it through this difficult strengthening period.

Tuesday Tidbits

2006-10-24T07:44:00.000-05:00

As election day approaches, here are some interesting facts for you:

The first black U.S. Senator was Hiram Revels, elected to his position in1870. In the state in which Mr. Revels lived, election to the United States Senate was not done by popular vote at the time, but rather those in the State congress elected a member of the State congress to represent them at the national level. Mr. Revels was elected to the State Senate, where he was at one time asked to lead the Senate in its opening prayer. The prayer was so eloquent and so moving that his colleagues decided to elect him to represent them on the national level. What state was he from? Mississippi, the Confederacy stronghold. Mr. Revels took the seat that once belonged to Jefferson Davis, who had abandoned it less than 10 years earlier to become the president of the Confederacy.

The first popularly elected black person into national office was Jefferson Long, a freed slave. Elected in 1870 to represent the people of the state of Georgia, which still held bitter sentiment about losing the Civil War. He served in Conress a short 3 months, fulfilling the term of a white colleague who had been forced to resign.

Isn't it interesting that the first two African Americans to fill national office were both from southern states?
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"I have come to the conclusion that politics is much to serious a matter to be left to the politicians."

Charled De Gaulle
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"The reason there are so few female politicians is because it is far too much trouble to put make-up on two faces."

Maureen Murphy
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What do the Chicago Cubs and the St. Louis Cardinals have in common?

Neither have won a World Series in their new ball parks.

Go Cards!!!

Stumping Saturdays

2006-10-21T09:00:00.000-05:00

I've decided on Saturdays, I'm going to stump for some particular issue. It might be funny; it might not. But this is my blog, so I'll do what I want. Expect an unpaid advertisement of some sort every Saturday.

That being said, I think I'm freakin' weird.

One of my favorite things to do is to read Miss Manners. I love it. She's so flippin' funny. And I learn all kinds of things.

For example, did you know that when somebody belches, even if it is just a little burp, one is supposed to say, "Excuse me." If one farts, however, even if it is something that the U.N. would consider levying sanctions against as a weapon of mass destruction, courtesy demands that everyone at ground zero pretend it did not happen.

At any rate, responding to anyone who says, "Excuse me," with, "You're excused," is considered rude. It is imperial, and assumes that you have the power not to excuse the person in question if you wish. In other words, by saying, "You're excused," you are assuming power over the person that you do not have.

The thing I enjoy most about Miss Manners is her way of killing people with kindness. For example, let's say that someone is a one-upper. No matter how many sets of twins in your family you may have, this person has that many and 3 sets of triplets. When she begins to one-up you, you can "up hers" by being extremely, kindly interested in her triplets names and birthdates, with sincere interest in to whom they belong, asking for addresses because you want to contact the families to see if there is anything you can do to help because having that many children must be extremely difficult. Kill 'em with kindness.

How about that person that always has a trite, slightly condescending remark to make upon hearing your profession? You simply stare at them when they make their remarks for only a couple of seconds. Don't smile. Don't respond. Then ask them what they do for a living, and make no comment at all about their profession.

I love it. You just stare at them! That's awesome. And it's polite.

Sneezing into a handkerchief: that's ok only if you are going to sneeze one time. If you feel a fit of multiple sneezes ready to attack, however, a tissue is what courtesy demands, for the simple reason that you don't have to put a soaked handkerchief back into your pocket. Ewwww!

The word courtesy, which is often related to "politeness" comes from the same root word as "court," and actually descends from the "courtesans" who attended the king and queen in the court. So, to be courteous is to be courtly. To be courteous is to demonstrate one's own dignity, and to respect the dignity of others. To be courteous puts us in the presence of kings and queens, and makes us noble.

So I think everyone should read Miss Manners on a regular basis. It might make us just a little more courtly to one another.

Flummadiddle For Your Friday

2006-10-19T15:18:00.000-05:00

Famous last words:

“Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.” Oscar Wilde, d. November 30, 1900
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An old superstition: If you want to keep an unpleasant guest from returning, sweep out the room in which the guest stayed immediately after they leave.

I’ve personally found that following them with the broom, sweeping wherever they happen to walk while they're still there is much more effective.
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Did you know that Attila the Hun died of a nosebleed on his wedding night?
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Speaking of which, with the world series getting underway (Go Cards!!!), there has only been one baseball player ever killed in the course of a game. In 1920, Raymond Johnson Chapman who played for the Cleveland Indians was hit in the head by a wild pitch. He was immediately taken to a hospital where he died one day later.
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Did you hear about the invisible man who married the invisible woman. The kids were nothing to look at either.
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Top 10 Things That Sound Dirty in Golf But Aren’t

10. Nuts, my shaft is bent.
9. After 18 holes I can barely walk.
8. You really whacked the heck out of that sucker.
7. Look at the size of his driver.
6. Keep your head down and spread your legs a bit more.
5. Mind if I join your threesome?
4. Stand with your back turned and drop it.
3. My hands are so sweaty I can’t get a good grip.
2. Nice stroke, but your follow through has a lot to be desired.
1. Hold up…I need to wash my balls first.
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And finally, here’s my tip for the day:

If every morning when you wake up, the first thing you do is eat one live toad, then nothing worse will happen to you for the rest of the day.

I promise.

Thoughts for Thursday

2006-10-19T10:13:00.000-05:00

Does what we do define who we are? Or does who we are define what we do?

The question, honestly, isn't an either/or situation.

We do good things because within us, part of our identity, is good. We are good, and so we do good things.

We do evil, bad things, however, because within us, part of our identity, is evil. We are evil, and so we do evil things.

Psalm 139 recognizes, "How wonderfully, beautifully you made me." Psalm 51 equally recognizes, "Oh see, in guilt I was born. A sinner I was conceived." Only by seeing both do we have an honest view of the human person.

We will never have integrity until we can recognize with honesty that there is something within us that inspires us to do things that are hurtful, not only to others but to ourselves. In the same light, we must recognize our own goodness.

Our choices can deepen our tendencies, however. As a person, we can choose to do evil or to do good. One choice, however, does not define us. No matter how extraordinarily good a particular, single choice may be, it is not enough to make us a good person. No matter how extraordinarily evil a particular, single choice may be, this choice does not make us an evil person.

In the end, it is our habitual choices that finally determine whether the good or the evil within us wins. We are, so we do, and the more we do, the more we become what we are. As Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher once wrote, "We are what we repeatedly do."

If we want to be good, then, we must make a consistent habit of doing the good. We must make it a habit of choosing moment-by-moment the good. If we do otherwise, we are evil.