He Ran for me

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed. Hebrews 12:11-13

I'm not going to lie, these last three months have been really hard. I'm glad that Elodie is doing well, but if we were to post as many pictures of us on the blog as we do for Elodie, you would not be seeing smiles as cute as hers.

Olivier has expressed his challenges as a new father a few times. So now it's my turn. My challenges have surprised me. It's hard to transition from working in a full-time creative environment to a mundane, simple life of motherhood. I have found hidden sins in my heart that I didn't know existed. My "spiritual knees" are wobly and I can barely keep myself up some days.

It became apparent to me very quickly that I needed spiritual support. At the same time of that realization, my church offered a bible study for women. It's on Monday nights at 7. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem for me. But...with a baby it seemed impossible. Olivier normally gets home at 7 and I hated to leave him with a baby after a long day. After much thought, we decided that we could make it work--even if I was late. I was desperate.

This Monday the commute was a little different. Olivier has been taking the train to work and riding his bike from the station to work. The train leaves every hour and as he sped to the station, he went over a pot hole and blew out his tire. Because he didn't want me to be late, he ran in his biking shoes to the station. BTW--biking shoes are like ski boots. He barely made the train and I was on time.

I am so humbled by my husband. My desperation became his desperation. Olivier knew that I needed to meet with God and he made it his priority. This act has spoken more to me than anything I have encountered lately. It's such a picture of God's love. It makes me think of how I want to live my life. If everyday I only try to exist, I don't want that. But, if every day I could be desperate to meet with God, desperate to love my daughter, desperate to love Olivier--just so that they can meet with the Living God...I think that is a life well lived.

Thank you Olivier for running for me. Thank you for caring for me and loving me.

those mitten things...

Everybody tells you, "being a parent teaches you so much about God!" It seems to be this wonderful journey of how God is a father to you and takes care of your every need--every time you cry he just swoopes you right up and comforts you and he would drop everything the moment you needed him . . . nice, it's all very nice and true. The other side of that, for me at least, is that usually when you are learning something about God it's because you are finally coming to terms with more of who you are and as a result you have to turn to him for grace.

So I give you the mittens . . . those little thumbless pouches that you cram the babies hand into. How annoyed and squirmy does she get when we are trying to put them on! She flays her arms about and stretches her fingers out so they won't go on. Half the time she shakes them right off and they get tossed aside and ignored. She thinks she's found her freedom and can finally enjoy an open hand. But we know that she'll go right ahead and scratch her face up. And it's not like she hasn't done it before, she's given herself quite a few marks, she should learn by now. In fact I don't even think she's old enough to have hands yet, she should be growing them in a year or so when she's learned to control them. But we know, we know that for her own good we should limit her freedom and put them on her hands. It's not the most comfortable of things, but in the long run it's to protect her from herself. But just like a typical child, she doesn't know the good we want for her, and she rebelliously shakes them off and goes about scratching her face up....

And at every instance we get, even though it's our care that she's spurned, we'll comfort her, and then gently try to put them on again. Someday hopefully she will learn to surrender to the limitations we put on her and reside in the mercy and grace of her loving parents.

Thriving in the desert.

What a strange, alluring neighborhood... There is one particular girl here who Colleen and I have known for almost five years, initially came off as a kid who didn't have any respect or willingness to learn. We first got to know her on the soccer field, then a couple years later she joined Starfish, and recently she is one of the girls who has been stopping by our house with her friends. Well tonight, I pulled her tooth out for her!

A friend in urban ministry who has been a mentor to me always says that "you know you are starting to have an impact when a kid's parents call at three in morning with a crisis concerning their child and needing your help." Well a reluctant kid who is fearful of pulling a tooth out is hardly a crisis worthy of a three am phone call. But I just thought how interesting it was that over the years it has come to a place where Colleen and I and a group of kids can be huddled in front of the mirror laughing as we are pulling teeth out together. It's never happened in other places.

I recently meet a couple down the street who were holding a young baby out on their porch. I chit chatted... then the great grandmother walks up behind and says hello to Elodie "she is so beautiful!" she goes on about how wonderful children are and how lucky I am to be a dad... I reach my hand out to shake hers.. she becomes embarassed because she reaveals a pack of smokes and lighter, and almost forgetting what is in her other hand she holds it out only to show two strips of crispy bacon in it, so she quickly puts it in her mouth, and extends her hand back out. Laughing she realizes her manners when she sees her greasy fingers, so finally with a big toothless grin she turns her elbow to me and I shake it with a smile.

Looking out the window we saw kids having a dance off in the intersection where they just installed a Chicago Police blue light. Seriously, a dance off!

There are the deaf people across the street who are always signing over to me, I don't understand but the countenance is always so good...

There is this kid who every single day walks by at the same time in the morning with his white collared shirt and navy pants, with his little brother in tow...

There is a rogue garage behind us with ten or so shirtless guys who, serving as the mechanics, charge you the rate of "well what do you wanna pay?"

The Pastor in a head to toe red zuit suite who promises to give me a copy of his gospel album when it comes out, any day now...

The fact that this is the first time since my youth, that the person who delivers our mail knows us by name, and even asks about Elodie...

Even the boarded up houses. The one that was just torn down... the other one where they took out half and patched up the side to where you can see where the stairs used to be... the trash and litter, the empty lots... They play stick ball on those empty lots, I saw it with my own eyes.

Even the gun shots are a celebration of the lives that are thriving despite the circumstance...

They somehow create a vibrance and beauty all it's own that isn't available in the pristine cut lawns and cleaned streets of other areas.

It amazes me how resilient humans are...

That girl who's tooth I pulled, now she could be a leader, she's learned so much and grown so much...

Tonight, Colleen completely filled with the spirit, had the girls blushing at the prospect of someone who desperately wanted to marry them. She introduced them to a Lord and Savior who calls them his bride. We stood in a circle hand-in-hand. Elodie was in my arms, as Colleen prayed for the girls. I felt the Lord's presence. At that time, I thought that there is no better place to raise this child than right here in the midst of all this beauty....

Elodie takes Chicago

speechless

A good friend just sent this photo to us...it was taken in 2001. It was my first year in Chicago and that was when I still had the guts to throw a "thriftstore formal" party. This is what resulted from that. It cracks me up. Olive can really pull off the pink!

cat lady

This picture made me laugh for a long time.