The Gospel at Bedtime

Tonight, I am extremely proud of my oldest son. And it's not because he played his best at his soccer game tonight (which we still lost 0-2), nor to the fact that he scored so well on his last science test (whereas most of his classmates did not do so well). No, I'm proud because he reflected his creator in a powerful way.

As with every soccer night, we get home and are trying to rush to get the kids in bed before 9 o'clock, (which never happens). After the kids got a bath and had their teeth brushed, we sat down to read the Bible. The kids were getting in their positions when Jay hopped back up and ran over to the books again. I told him repeatedly, “Come here first, J. Come here first.” But he would not listen. He forced my hand, and I had to tell him, “No stories tonight.” He immediately broke down in tears. I expected his mama to be anguished over her sons crocodile tears, but it was Elijah who spoke up after Bible time.

"I would rather go ahead and lose my story time and let J have his stories," he told me.

"You'll take his punishment?" I asked.

He nodded and said, "Yeah."

I confess I teared up a little as I nodded and told him, "Go ahead, Buddy."

Then I sat J down and presented him once again with the Gospel message. But this time, it was in a real-life situation where his brother, in love and out of the desire to please the father, took his place.

"That's what Jesus did for us J. Even though we did bad things and deserve to be punished, he took our punishment so that we could have Grace."

I'm pretty sure neither kid really understand what took place and what part they played in the retelling of the most beautiful story in the entire universe, but I was blessed to have he eyes to see it.

My Sweet Dreams

I'd worked very late yesterday night, so tonight I was planning on going to be early. But before I climbed into bed, and yet after the kids were suppose to be trying to go to sleep, Elijah comes out and tells us he wants to sleep on the bottom bunk, so that he can listen to The Sweetest Story Bible CD, Aubrey's new pink Bible and CD set. "I know it's for girls," he told us, "but it's still about God."

 So we conceeded, and I soon got into bed, drifting off to sleep listening to The Sweetest Story Bible CD playing from Elijah's room, and Aubrey singing Jesus loves me. That provided some sweet dreams. Thank You, Lord.

A Good Father

"Youh the meanest daddy I ev-uh saw. He's a meany head!"' I heard Aubrey say from her room, even after I closed her door.

 

I had warned her to be quiet after she continued to fuss about wanting water after I told her "no" because she disobeyed me and got out of bed while I was tucking Elijah into bed. It's become her MO to get up a few times after being tucked in. Usually it is an afterthought of needing to potty, get a drink of water, get a tissue, to "tell us something", or all of the above. So anyway...

To be honest, her response made me angry. Here I was, a loving father who provided her with a good meal earlier, water to drink, a warm bed to sleep in, a room of her own, toys to play with, and all the love I could pour out upon her, and because I withheld something good from her to teach her a more valuable lesson, she lashed out in anger and questioned my character. And at one point, I went back into her room and basically told her all that. Not sure it changed anything, but it eventually began to sink in for me.

 

How often we see God in our limited perspective and think and say horrible things about our Heavenly Father or question His character because he didn't do things the way we wanted him to. He's provided for us and given us way more than we either need or deserve. And yet the moment He withholds something from us, we question His goodness. Perhaps we don't do it directly with slanderous words towards Heaven, but when we react in anger towards circumstances that are not to our favor, we are doing the same thing. His thoughts and ways are beyond ours, and I need to do as Job and put my hand over my mouth before I say something I shouldn't.

“Indeed, my plans are not like your plans, and my deeds are not like your deeds, for just as the sky is higher than the earth, so my deeds are superior to your deeds and my plans superior to your plans."

-Isaiah 55:8,9

“Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let the person who accuses God give him an answer!” Then Job answered the Lord: “Indeed, I am completely unworthy – how could I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth to silence myself."

-Job 40:2-4

Wasted Tears

Last night for dinner, Aubrey was in a very emotional mood, whining and crying over the simplest thing. It started with the her and Elijah going at it, and her hauling off and smacking her brother, then getting sent to her room. That in itself was a small struggle, so she had to wait a little bit before coming to the dinner table. She seemed in anguish about waiting for dinner, complaining that she was so hungry that her "belly ache." But when she finally was allowed to join us for dinner, her bowl of chilli must not have been what she expected, and she decided immediately that it was (the usual), "yucky." She whinned about the "white" (sour cream), and wanted it "out." Then she wanted a napkin to wipe it off her spoon. Then she sobbed about the yucky black things (beans) and begged to have them removed. And she was almost in tears when some of the chilli fell off her spoon. At that breakdown, I brokedown myself... in laughter. The absurdity of it all just overtook me and I busted out laughing. I also couldn't help myself in imitating the ridiculous display that I was witnessing. It's probably not the pinnacle of parenthood to mock your children, but I rather enjoyed complaining about the color and of my glass and the poor choice of direction of the wind.

But I also realize that I actually do this in reality. I complain about things that must seem absurd to our Heavenly Father. With such a limited perspective, it's easy to get tunnel vision and just see the tragedy of our food slipping off our spoon and think that the end is near. We fail to see how often our tears are wasted on unworthy issues... well, I know mine are. If only I would see things from my Father's perspective, then I could more accurately navigate through life and emotionally respond more appropriately to life's circumstances.

And for the record, Aubrey did finally eat her chilli in order to receive some precious fruit (some slices of pear and apple).

Lighting of the Christmas Tree 2014

True to “tradition” (I use that term loosely), we decorated for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. This year I wised up and put the tree up several days earlier, then spent the several nights getting all the lights on (and then straightening our leaning tree by using twine to anchor it to the wall). It was far less stressful this way, and we got to actually decorate the whole day, and the tree was done in relative quick timing. We all enjoyed some eggnog pancakes (in the traditional Rudolph presentation), pulled out the Christmas books the kids excitedly looked through, played some of our favorite Christmas CDs, and ended the day with a movie with the kids. We watched The Polar Express, and the kids loved it.

However, I can’t help but scoff at the exaltation of the generic virtue of “believe,” as if belief or even faith is some pinnacle of existence. “It doesn’t matter where the train is going, but whether you get on.” Really? Should we just blindly trust without supporting evidence to its reliability? Is it wise to walk upon an iced lake without a knowledge of its foundational depth? Perhaps I don't have to know "where the train is going" if I can trust the conductor, but I'm not sure a strange man who sounds like every other adult and claims his trackless train is headed to the uninhabitable “North Pole” qualifies.

Comer Fair, 2014

This year’s Comer Fair was a little different this… you know, out of the three years total we’ve gone. We thought we might just go as a family and had picked the best day for us to go (Tuesday-the cheapest). But when I got home, I got a bad report in regards to my children’s behavior. Elijah was kicking the large purple ball around and knocked off a ceramic plate off the mantel. It of course broke in several pieces, to which his mother informed him he would have to pay for it. He got angry, and it escalated as it often did, even to the point of him kicking at his mother and calling her names like “stupid.” Aubrey had a little back talking of her own that day, but nothing quite so severe. I got home, and then had to make a tough decision. I even phoned my parents for some additional opinions. Do we still go to the fair? Do we just let Aubrey go? Do we just call off the whole thing?

Well, in the end I realized that Aubrey deserved a spank, but her privilege to go would never even be at risk if it had not been for Elijah’s behavior. So I was just going to take her, and let Elijah stay at home and learn a tough lesson. But when I informed him that Aubrey was going to go, and he was going to miss the Fair completely this year, he became irate, and so I just decided to send the girls out, and the boys would turn in early, despite all the screaming and yelling.

Aubrey had a wonderful evening with her mom. They stayed out pretty late, until around 9:30 (it closed at 10) when Aubrey informed her mother, “I’m ti-uhd, Mama.” When they got home, Aubrey came in with a giant smile and a half-eaten bag of cotton candy. Stephanie then told me a few cute things about the evening. She really enjoyed the Ferris Wheel and the long slide. She also seemed to really enjoy the bigger rides (the ones where she was just tall enough to go on). Last year when Elijah rode those rides, he stuck his tongue out and distorted his face like he was going to throw up. This year, the younger Aubrey held a big smile the whole night. On one particular one of these rides (where they also play all the inappropriate music), Aubrey noticed a teenage girl in front of her pointing her finger and pumping her arm in the air to the music. Perhaps believing this was an expected activity while riding, she did the same. Too cute.

And back on the home front, I spent the next hour enduring some angry words and disrespectful behavior… for a while, hoping to let Elijah vent some of his anger. In the end, I made sure he had a very unpleasant evening. We received confirmation the next week that the tough decision indeed made an impression. Elijah’s class at school read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day, and then answered the question, “What was your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day?” I’ll give you one guess what his answer was.

But one more important aspect of the evening. Elijah and I had a good talk about the importance of respect and obedience, and the reason these consequences are a loving thing. Because the real problem isn’t the “stupid” comment, the kick, or even the broken plate, the real problem is the condition of his heart. He was willing to calm down a little and be respectful until he found out he wasn’t going to get what he wanted, and then he had a decision to make. Do I trust that my father is good (with all the many good things around me to assure me of this truth), and that he knows what’s best for me, or am I going to decide he’s a bad father who is withholding good things from me that will bring me joy? The same decision we constantly face in regards to our Heavenly Father. Because as much as I’m now an adult and father, I’m still His child.

Aslan

"'They say Aslan is on the move--perhaps he has already landed.'

"And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different."


One morning last week, my alarm went off to the Narnia battle music from the movie soundtrack. Elijah was in the room at the time and asked to hear it again. I selected the song from my library on the iPhone so that he could hear the entire song. And it was there that a magical interest began in the mind of that boy. He sat staring at the picture from the cover of that album, inquiring of the characters and scenes that he saw, and especially of the majestic lion in the center. For the rest of the day he kept inquiring of the lion and the music, so I let him borrow the whole soundtrack, which he played continuously. So I pulled out some of my books, and opened up The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe to read to him.

And so for the past week plus, we've been reading a chapter every evening. This evening we arrived at Chapter 12, Peter's First Battle, and experienced the children's (including Elijah's) first encounter with Aslan. And as I read the words, "Aslan stood in the center..." Elijah lit up with excitement, his eyes shinning, his mouth open wide, absolutely enthralled in the story and this majestic character. How fascinating and exciting to experience such an imaginative and meaningful story through his eyes. He's going to flip when he sees the movie.

And yet, this great lion is but a mere shadow of what He represents. For HE is no mere character in a story, or fictional hero who vanquishes a make-believe evil, or the creator of a fairy tale land. Rather, HE is the author of life, the glorious Creator of the real Universe and its ever expansive space, the sovereign designer who orchestrates the path of every electron and sub-atomic particle, the Lord that holds all matter together, the originator of all knowledge, the source of everything good, the substance of love, the essence of justice, the redeemer of mankind.

May I feel the weight of the story when I pick up HIS Book every morning. And may I marvel and feel the faith and excitement of a child at the mere mention of HIS name.

Such A Content Little Child

Patti Smith said Monday, "Aubrey is such a content little child."

She wouldn't have said that tonight if she had witnessed the tantrum she threw. I think it all started after we finished up the Curious George episode and told her we were going to get a bath. She asked for chocolate milk and Stephanie told her it was gone (I drank the rest as I was cleaning off the table... there wasn't much left... but I'm the human garbage disposal and I dispatch whatever my children have left on their plate... well, once they surpass the spitting food out of their mouth stage).

Well, the news that her chocolate milk was gone sent her over and she started screaming and throwing a fit. I picked her up, got her clothes off as she kicked around on the floor, and put her in the bath. It was a short one as she screamed about not wanting a bath until I pulled her out to dry her off. Then she screamed about wanting to get back in. It was a short bedtime routine with a quick tooth brushing, a short Bible story, and no story time. All the while she continued to throw a fit. I kissed her goodnight and told her to stay in bed. After a few defiant escapes and desperate refusals to assert her will, she resorted to loud screams. I warned her and the systematically removed her animals from her bed until she stopped and went to sleep.

I guess we're all like this though. We can be content as long as things go our way. But disrupt my will, and I'll throw a fit... or punch you in the face. Whichever I can get away with.

Repentance

Today after school, Elijah informed his mother, "Yellow's not bad." She wa a bit confused if he meant the shirt he wore that day was the wrong shade for color day. It wasn't until he clarified, "It's not red or the other colors," that she started realizing what he was referring to: his behavior rating.

Green, his consistent color, is the one for good behavior. Yellow is when they had to be warned, the come red, blue, and black respectively. So apparently he was reprimanded and warned by a teacher.

Elijah teared up when he told his mama and explained that he got in trouble for talking to one of the girls at his table, even after he was told to be quiet.

Were we disappointed? Actually, no, not at all. I was quite proud tht my son showed signs of repentant. Whether is emotional sorrow that is merely regretful of getting caught pr whether is true spiritual tepentance that leads to life change is yet to be seen. But I do know that tgis is what God wants from us: to mourn over our disobedience, our rebellious sin, and turn away towards The Father.

Heart Change

These past few days have been a battle with Elijah. He wrecked his room, and rather than stay up late and have him clean it, we just left it until the next day. However, he spent the next day making an even bigger mess. Then a bigger one the next day. So when I came home on Thursday, it was a disaster. Earlier on he simply begged for help, and we told him (the more recent strategy) to clean up a few sets of toys ("Put your Veggietales in the box, your tools in the toolbox, and stack up your books") and then we would offer to help. He would start, but then soon get distracted. We even told him if he cleaned his room up, he could have his next Veggietales CD. But all this to no avail. The room continued to be a wreck. And if it were just for that, I might have just taken some toys, because he obviously had too many to keep his room clean. But his defiant attitude swelled, and he flat out refused to obey.

Perhaps I'm a little vindictive, but I want to make sure he feels the consequences. So I went right for the jugular: I took his CD player. And then the true battle began.

Through tearful yells he begged to be able to clean up his room for himself, and professed continual empty apologies of, "I'm sorry, Daddy," (Which he always says when he knows he's getting in trouble). However, the greater the tantrum, the more I took. I cleared out about half his toys as he fought me every step of the way. And not just verbally, he kept trying to grab stuff out of my hand and throw things at me. Of course I would just take the toy, and then he would beg and plead for me to not take that object (whether it be figure, playset, umbrella, or chair... yes, chair). I guess it was all a desperate attempt to get me to stop. I know he was just lashing out in pure helpless frustration, but his behavior stepped way over the line. I just couldn't get him to calm down. Near the end of this first pickup, I told him to just go and eat dinner. He left, then came back in to throw a wood placemat at me.

We finally ate dinner, and we got him ready for bed early. He fell asleep as I was reading the Bible and praying (needless to say there were no bedtime stories), but he kept waking up (five or six times) throughout the night whining and crying about the loss of his toys.

The next day while I was at work, Stephanie informed me of his continual trouble. He proceeded to pull out most of the rest of his toys all over his floor. He pulled out more of his clothes, cleared out his desk drawers of papers onto the floor, got out his bunk bed ladder (which we put away because Aubrey keeps climbing it), and climbed up into his closet again and pulled down some of the toys I had taken the night before. He had also gotten into the kitchen cabinets, stripped our bed of its sheets, and climbed up our shelves in our closet to get his Penguin humidifier. He then filled the tank and placed it on its base without the plug. Needless to stay Stephanie had to soak up a lot of water off the floor.

When I got home, we calmly encouraged him to clean his room again. He refused, so we placed him in his room and commanded that he clean up. So after further defiance and his continual refusal to even begin the process, justice was enacted again. I cleared out most of the rest of his toys and he repeated the tantrum/demonic behavior that we experienced the night before. I had to continually push him away and dodge projectiles so I could even gather his toys together. Needless to say he also received several spankings... but still his anger did not abate.

At one point, I had him twisted around on his bed, trying to get him pinned enough to spank him. His head and torso started to slide off the edge and he started pleading with me, "Daddy, I can't fly. Daddy, I can't fly. I'm not a bird." It was all I could do not to just bust out laughing. I know there was a giant grin on my face as I found the whole scene quite humorous, and quite ridiculous. How God must feel at our reactions to His discipline.

The incredible ending to this story came after leaving him in his room for a while, and him still not really calming down, but choosing to lay down in front of his door and kick it repeatedly. Spanking did not discourage this or his other outbursts of anger towards being confined to his room (among other things). So I calmly went into his room and picked him up. His immediate response was the usual panic, "What are you going to do, Daddy?" I didn't say a word but just sat down in the floor, placed him in front of me and wrapped my arms gently around him. Then I leaned into him and prayed over him. Immediately his whole countenance changed, and once I finished he responded, "I'm happy now, Daddy." Not sure if it was happiness, but he complied to play quietly in his room by himself (with the few toys he had left) while I fixed dinner. And from that point on, he was calm and obedient the rest of the night... and all the next day.

This was a reminder that I am helpless to change the behavior of my child. I might be able to encourage him to respond a certain way, or help him to learn that he can manipulate certain situations in his favor. But true heart change can only come from God. May I never forget God's power over my children, and the importance and necessity of prayer.

Dogs and Death

I guess you can't expect tough questions to come at convenient times... although at home on a normal day is as good as time as any. Yesterday, Stephanie was going through an old sketch book and showed Elijah one particular work of art. "Look, Squeeze. It's my old dog Shafer."

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Well, Buddy. Shafer died."

"Died?"

"Yeah. None of us live forever. One day our puppies are going to die."

Elijah's face sagged as he displayed a giant frown. "Oh, no. I'm not going to see Beans and Peno?"

Stephanie tried to explain a little about death and what happens when people die. I guess it made an impression, because a while later when on the phone with his grandmother, he said, "Granmommy, you're going to die one day."

Nice.

Stephanie did explain a little to my mom why her grandson wanted to discuss the fragile reality of her mortal state. Then again at dinner tonight, he brought it all up again. He wanted to know if we would ever see our house after we die, and where would we sleep in heaven, and where would the bad people go who put Jesus on the cross, and would he be put on a cross.... Man, I felt a little over my head. How much can a four year old handle? How much of this stuff do I try and explain?

Stephanie even got to cover Jesus' humanity when Elijah asked, "Mama, did Jesus have poop in his body?" I guess that's a four year old boy's way of pondering the Person of Christ, 100% man yet 100% God.

Will Climb for Cake

This evening, while Stephanie was cleaning out the fridge after dinner, Elijah took the chocolate cake (from Father's Day) and placed it on the table. Not sure why. We've pretty much stopped asking why things are moved around our house. The answer is never satisfactory.

Anyway, Stephanie had pretty much cleaned everything else up, and looked over to see our daughter on top of the table, helping herself to some chocolate cake with a fork.

It's interesting how diligent we were with what our first child ate. Elijah didn't eat any sweets until after he was one, and even then we highly limited them until he was two. But that next child... those resolves start to, well, dissolve. It seems like so much of parenting takes full focus, and once that attention is divided, things slip through the cracks. I used to think that no matter what, we would try and parent each child the same. But that's a pretty foolish idea considering that we change as people. We're not even the same person day after day, much less the several year gap between kids. There's lessons that we learn along the way, and circumstances that are entirely different with each new child. Elijah didn't have an older sibling to compete with (or to take advantage of his or her distractions). I still believe its important to be diligent and intentional, but it sure alleviates a lot of stress when we realize that we CAN'T parent the same with every child.

Hmmm... that also makes me rethink how I may have even viewed my own upbringing. There's a reason my siblings were not treated the same as I was. And in light of a loving and sovereign Father in Heaven, I can only conclude that it was all for my good.

Monster

Bilbo, in Lord of the Rings, when His desire for the ring shows its true colors.

So after a weekend of fun watching movies, visiting the Renassiance Festival, and being overall "spoiled rotten" by his Grandadio and Grandmamio, Elijah returned home with us on Sunday afternoon. We were so happy for him to have this weekend, and we are so thankful to Steve and Kimberly for loving on him so much. He had a great time, and came back exhausted with a pirate's loot (figuratively and literally). And perhaps its that exhausted part that drives the rest of this story.

We went by Walmart on our way home to pick up a few things, and Elijah just seemed a little hyped up, touching everything, not really listening when we told him to come with us. I'm often surprised how he doesn't usually ask for many things in the store; and when he does, he seems okay with the answer (which is 99% of the time, a "no"). But this time, he seemed to have his heart on a new Toy Story plate since Stephanie bought a few new sippy cups for Aubrey. Not a big deal, but he did go boneless on me a few times as I tried to pull him along by the hand.

Anyway, we got the kids home, got dinner fixed, and sat down to dinner. Elijah has now entered that stage where he thinks its funny to pass gas (he gets it from his mother's side... and you all know I'm not kidding), eat food like a dog off the table, and generally test the patience of his parents with things such as putting his foot on the table. Well, my patience was wearing thin. I would tell him to stop doing one thing, only to have him move on to the next. But once he started licking the table and kept doing it after I told him not do--dinner was over. I took his plate up, and he lost desert and any chance of more food for the evening.

Then the meltdown started, and once one discipline was enacted, his reaction would necessitate more. He was told to go to his room, and he defiantly insisted, "NO!" I picked him up and put him in his room. He became irate, kicking the door, banging on walls (not to say he hasn't done this before), behaving like an all out wild monster. I told him this, which initiated a tearful response, "I'm not a monster, I'm a boy." Your heart might go out to such a pitiful plea, but this "sweet boy" lashed out by spitting (with tongue out) and swinging wildly at me. I even tried holding him tight to calm him down, but he fought hard and would throw his head back and spit on my arms. In his anger, things like "phowey" and "I don't like you, Daddy" turned especially venomous when he finally told me, "I wish you were dead." Wow, where did that come from?

A wicked and sinful heart, that's where.

It's amazing to see how quickly children can turn from sweet little innocent children who warm the heart and make a parent proud, to becoming a wild beast that causes his progenitors to question every bit of their parenting skills. Its almost shocking to see how irate he can become when his will is blocked. And yet, it shouldn't surprise me at all. He is my son. And I'm prone to do the same thing. I often put my immediate comfort and desires above the relationship and trust of my Heavenly Father. Which also begs the question, are there times that I've told God, "I wish you were dead?" Even if not in those words, have my actions communicated this message? Hmmmmm....

Another Shot

In thinking about Stephanie's adventure at the clinic, I thought about how Elijah got upset when he heard he wasn't getting his shots that day. However, one of the clinic workers did give him a sticker. How often do we cry, beg, and plead with God to give us what we want, but we know not what we ask. He knows, yet we don't trust Him to look out for our good. Sometimes he takes us through painful things (like shots) because he knows whats best for us. Then other times, he withholds things that would cause us pain (the kind that doesn't benefit us or make us stronger), even when we kick and scream. And perhaps their are even times he may pinch us if we complain too much, just to give us a dose of reality.

Thankful for Bad Days

I admit it, I'm a bit frustrated tonight. I know its more than just all this (it's just added stress), but this preschooler is getting the better of me. It's like he's trying to annoy me and do everything he can to frustrate me. As soon as I get home, he locks me out of the house (as Stephanie drives away). I had a key, but that's not the point. I put him in his room, and he proceeds to do the usual playing with the doorknob and opening and shutting the door routine. A little while later I discover a domino he took from my parents house (because he wanted it... that's called stealing, son), while I catch him drawing with a crayon on a random envelope he pulled from Stephanie's desk. Again, turned out not to be a big deal, but still. At dinner he proceeds to play with his cup and spill his water (again). Then he's pulling Aubrey around, and taking her toys, and pulling out Stephanie's craft stuff. "No, son. You can't use that." He wants to take a bath, which I let him. But instead of playing in the tub, he proceeds to drop articles of clothing in the water, and unroll all the toilet paper, and mess with every item in the bathroom. I discover all this as I'm trying to get Aubrey into bed and emptying a dirty cloth diaper in the toilet (as well as another that I found in the trash can) while trying to now simultaneously run the diapers into the laundry room while keeping our little toddler from playing in the toilet or getting into something else she's not suppose to. I'll confess, I lost my cool (for a second time tonight). But the nights not over yet. Once I do get Aubrey into bed, I discover a cluttered bookshelf (he pulled half his books out again) and a damaged desk (part of his bunk bed--given to us by my wonderful brother), where he apparently spilled some water on a Lego magazine and left it. I was able to get most of the ink up (although ruining a white wash cloth in the process). We read our Bible, read stories, and I apologized for getting angry and losing my cool. I prayed for a while, even after Elijah fell asleep. Then I go into the kitchen to discover his kid scissors and a small pile of tags where apparently he cut off ALL the tags off one of Aubrey's new stuffed animals. And I'm pretty sure I've left some stuff out... but right now, I just want to go to bed... but, in all this frustration, I feel compelled to share my prayer (said slowly and through tears as my son quickly drifted off to sleep), which went roughly something like this:

"Oh, great God. Thank you for this day. We thank you for the good days, which give us just a taste of the joy that we will one day feel when we enter your presence. And thank you also for those days like today, when we experience your great forgiveness, and grace, and mercy, and a greater understanding of the depth of your love. Father, you created this massive planet that dwarfs in comparison to our enormous Sun, that is only one of a billion in our vast Solar System which is just a speck in our infinite universe. Yet you fashioned this unfathomable cosmos with your fingers, and you hold it all in your hands. Yet you still made us—tiny, insignificant, us—in your image. Yet we have marred that image, chose to rebel and not trusted in You. Yet you love us anyway, certainly not because we are anything special, because I know that I am certainly nothing in this world and its history. But because you are that big, that great, You choose to care about the smallest things in your creation. Lord, thank you for loving us when we least deserve it. Help me be a better example of a Godly Man. Help me be patient with my children, and to teach them who you are and to speak boldly to them and others about the great things you have done. Help us point to you in all things. Amen."

My Stuff

After church today, I noticed Elijah was dragging my Falcons blanket around the living room. "Hey, don't go taking my blanket," I said, half-way joking with him.

Elijah then proceeded to explain to me that I let him use it in the morning when he gets up. When I'm at home and we're in the living room in the morning, I usually put it over him as he sits quietly on the couch and watches a Fabuland video on my iPhone. I guess he thinks this means that its now his.

I tried to explain to him that just because I let him use it, doesn't mean that I've given it to him. "It's still mine," I said. "And you should always ask before playing with it."

That could preach. Everything is God's. He may be letting us use it, but its still not really ours. We should be seeking His wishes before using, selling, giving, etc. And not just assuming it's ours to do with whatever we want. Yet how often I waste and misuse His great blessings because I start assuming its mine.

Differences

So since I'm learning that our children's little personalities are being revealed even at such a young age, I turn to my daughter who is so precious with her mop of hair and toothy smile. Yet she rarely laughs and seems rather moody a lot of the time lately: like every time she's not being feed fast enough, or when she's being changed, or when she's pooped, or bumped her head, or waking from a nap, or when Mama leaves the room, or when she's tired of standing, or tired of sitting, or tired of me giving her goofy grins, and when she was newborn she would cry every time I gave her a kiss (I guess she didn't like my beard). I could chalk it up to her being a girl, to which most women might cry fowl (and the others nod their heads in agreement), but I guess its just a phase, and perhaps different personalities.

Aubrey is not the tough guy Elijah is. She cries at every little bump. She's not the giggle box, but she gives the most precious toothy grin and silents laughs, with the occasional giggle cough. The Jumparoo was short lived for her, but she's hasn't even mastered crawling before pulling up on the activity tables and having a blast with all the sounds and musical scores. She loved vegetables from the start, but found fruits disgusting at first. However, she's still been a good eater and she enjoys the child carrier back pack just as much as Elijah did, although hanging out sideways.

Still Mr. Mischievous

So looking back to compare and contrast out two children, I came across this video. Even after over two years, this little boy is all smiles and giggles, full of energy and a mischievous mind. He still possesses that same contagious laugh, even just today as we played the "I'll race you to that Frisbee and try to pick it up as you do" game that we've played ever since he could run (which was about a month after he learned how to walk ;-). It's fun to look back and see that their little personalities were coming out even at that young age.

Sleeping Beauty?

When we first brought our little girl home, she was quite the snoozer. It seemed like she stayed in a perpetual comatose state. Perhaps that's the norm for newborns, I apparently have already forgotten much of our previous experience. However, as this magic dust started to wear off, it wore off it in the wrong direction--thus Aubrey became a nocturnal creature for a period of time. During the day we  would try certain tricks like blowing on her, rubbing wet hands on her face, shaking the bouncy seat, and tummy time, yet she wanted to remain in slumber land. Then night came and she became alert and wanted to cry for lack of attention.

But all things are for only a season. It wasn't long before she got into a pattern and started sleeping through the night. However, at eight months now, she still sleeps only around 8-9 hours. Every morning, usually around 5:30 (with a bedtime around 8:30-9:00), the beauty awakens and demands food.

I know, many of you simply want to vomit in disgust. 9 hours seems like a dream for many. I guess we just got spoiled with Elijah. Mr. 12 hours during the night with another 2-3 hour nap during the day at six months. Even now at three and a half years the kid sleeps a solid 10-12 hours at night (That's where he gets his extra energy from, his nightly hibernation).

Sorry, now I've really made you nauseous. In fact, some of you may just want to call in sick to work tomorrow I have so disgusted you.

In truth, we have been blessed immensely and I should stop whining when I have trouble napping on a Sunday afternoon (which was my complaint today). I've heard horror stories of kids not sleeping through the night for the first two years. I've heard about colic babies who cried for three hours solid. Seriously, what do I have to complain about? Now I'm wondering why I even started this post... it's starting to sound like bragging. Oh, well. Sorry.

All joking aside, God is a good God, and I am thankful that he has blessed me with a wonderful wife who is a rockin mom to my two beautiful, healthy, happy children who love to laugh, play, eat, and even sleep.

Poo Happens!

Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my! This past Friday saw the Neal family making a two hour trek to Zoo Atlanta to enjoy the sights and sounds of the wild. We were able to secure our tickets through our local library. We simply had to check out a DVD on the history of Zoo Atlanta and return it for a signed receipt good for a family pass for four. Be forewarned, however, though it held both Billy and my attention our little preschooler dubbed it "boring." So one enthusiastic thumb down from Squeeze.

So we packed up our car, AKA our Safari Land Cruiser. Okay, so maybe it's just our Toyota Camry. However, it has battled the wilds of nature by hitting a deer and me hitting an indigenous pine tree. Needless to say, it was up for the challenge to haul our clan southward.

We arrived at the zoo around lunchtime unscathed by midday Atlanta traffic. Immediately, we took to eating our homemade lunch; because despite the care that the zoo keepers give to the dietary needs of its animals, it surely lacks the same care for those of the homo sapiens species. Elephants and Pandas get bamboo, snakes get their rats, and people get deep fried chicken strips, sodas, and candy vending machines. So this Mama made PB&J sandwiches which were lovingly emblazoned with Sharpie marker illustrations labeled: "Lion Lunch, Monkey Grub, and Elephant Yummies." It sure made our little guy smile and that's more than I can say for a greasy piece of pizza.

Our beginning route saw us making it around to see flamingos, elephants, , giraffes, etc. Elijah and Daddy made it into the Boundless Budgies Parakeet Adventure--a large open habitat for birds to fly freely overhead. So Aubrey and I stayed safely outside because this Mama has an irrational fear of all things that fly. Birds, bees, and yes, even butterflies. Okay, quit laughing, I can hear you snickering.

We went on to see lions and other assorted animals. Then we saw the most frightening animal of all. Screeching that could make your skin crawl, teeth bared and body shaking. Yes, we saw the likes of Preschooleous Fitteous Maximus. Our sweet, little blond-haired blue-eyed boy went into a fit of rage upon being restrained into his Graco tandem stroller by his trainer(Daddy). He was unable to follow direction so he as forced into immobility. When Billy was buckling him in and while he was thrashing about he let out these fateful words, "Somebody help me!" Really? Oh yes, really. Thankfully the couple that was the closest to the wild child let out a small chuckle upon hearing this. No doubt they had kids too.

So one more fit saw us repeating this whole episode. And it was remarked by this Mama that he was "Acting like a baboon's backside." I wanted to be educational and effective at the same time. When he finally calmed down Daddy wanted to go back and see the House of Reptiles. Yea! (Wish you could sense the sarcasm I say while writing that). Lucky, us we were just in time for feedings too. Double Yea!

We finished off the day with the kangaroos, the petting zoo, and the playground--which was remarked as Elijah's favorite part of the day. Awesome, had we known that we would have gone to one of our own stinkin' parks.

As the car made its way out of the stone exits in the wrong direction we explored the likes of another wild area, south Atlanta. Frustration mounting we finally spotted the familiar signage for 75/85. Mistake number two, navigate the main arteries of Atlanta at rush hour on FRIDAY!!! We were stopped multiple times for congestion on our way home and were intermittently accompanied by the cries of Aubrey and the return of Preschooleous Fitteous Maximus.

Finally, we stopped for sustenance and ate dinner with Billy's parents. We needed a break from driving and crying. As we made our way back home we unloaded our car, dropped the kids in bed, and Billy and I talked over an adult beverage about our adventure for the day. Having experienced this wonder I had to ask myself "Why would anyone want to go to Disneyworld and deal with this crap?"

Friggin family zoo memory--check! Despite the frustration, I still realize that this indeed will be a fond memory to look back on. As we commiserated about how annoying it was that you go through so much heartache and sacrifice to do things for your children just to have them be ungrateful, I had an epiphany. Billy and I were doing the same things ourselves. Here we were given free tickets, lunch to enjoy, and arrived safely both there and back and we complained because our kid threw a tantrum, that we got lost, that we were inconvenienced by traffic. All the while not realizing how much God gave us in this day and everyday. I'm extremely blessed by my Father in Heaven to have these two little 'beasts' to care for. And if you're wondering about the status of Preschooleous Fitteous Maximus it unfortunately is quite common in the wild. So watch out!