Pictures from Mr. Squire

That (to him) basically sum up his week with Junior as I've been gone.

Hehehe.

I actually think they're pretty accurate.

Excerpt from MLK's Mountain Top Sermon

Delivered the day before he was assassinated:

Let us develop a kind of dangerous unselfishness.

One day a man came to Jesus; and he wanted to raise some questions about some vital matters in life. At points, he wanted to trick Jesus, and show him that he knew a little more than Jesus knew, and through this, throw him off base. Now that question could have easily ended up in a philosophical and theological debate. But Jesus immediately pulled that question from mid-air, and placed it on a dangerous curve between Jerusalem and Jericho. And he talked about a certain man, who fell among thieves.

You remember that a Levite and a priest passed by on the other side. They didn't stop to help him. And finally a man of another race came by. He got down from his beast, decided not to be compassionate by proxy. But with him, administered first aid, and helped the man in need. Jesus ended up saying, this was the good man, because he had the capacity to project the "I" into the "thou," and to be concerned about his brother.

Now you know, we use our imagination a great deal to try to determine why the priest and the Levite didn't stop. At times we say they were busy going to church meetings--an ecclesiastical gathering--and they had to get on down to Jerusalem so they wouldn't be late for their meeting. At other times we would speculate that there was a religious law that "One who was engaged in religious ceremonials was not to touch a human body twenty-four hours before the ceremony." And every now and then we begin to wonder whether maybe they were not going down to Jerusalem, or down to Jericho, rather to organize a "Jericho Road Improvement Association." That's a possibility. Maybe they felt that it was better to deal with the problem from the casual root, rather than to get bogged down with an individual effort.

But I'm going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It's possible that these men were afraid.

You see, the Jericho road is a dangerous road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on that road, I said to my wife, "I can see why Jesus used this as a setting for his parable." It's a winding, meandering road. It's really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about 1200 miles, or rather 1200 feet above sea level. And by the time you get down to Jericho, fifteen or twenty minutes later, you're about 2200 feet below sea level. That's a dangerous road. In the day of Jesus it came to be known as the "Bloody Pass."

And you know, it's possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it's possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure.

And so the first question that the Levite asked was, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"

Dear Junior

Dear Junior,

We are apart for the first time ever as Mommy goes on a business trip.  Ten days! We sure jumped in with both feet first on this. 

Mommy left on Monday and it is Friday evening.  What a long week it has been.  I'm so grateful that your grandparents (Mommy's parents) came to help Daddy out.  You've been having a lot of fun with them, and it has made me very relieved and happy to see you having fun in my absence.

You've been giving Mommy besos and trying to hug the iPad when we FaceTime.  It breaks my heart but warms it as well.  Thanks for not getting mad at me (yet) for leaving you.  I'll be back within a week.

In the meantime, Mommy has been learning a lot and practicing a lot of trial advocacy skills.  It's been an encouraging week; I'm learning a lot of the things I need to know to do my job well, and I've been seeing what my strengths are in the courtroom.  For the first time, I'm seeing what my gifts are in the courtroom, and I'm really experiencing the fact that God has prepared--and gifted--me for all of this. 

Daddy and I pray that for you all the time: that you would discover the gifts that God has given you and use those gifts to bless others.  It truly brings joy and meaning to life.

I miss you so, so much.  I can't wait to give you a gigantic hug, smother you with besos, and pretty much not let you go when I get home.

Have a great weekend, my little.  Mommy loves you tons.

Love to Junior,

Mommy

​

Lessons As of Late

It seems I experience spiritual growth in fits and starts as of late, and I am grateful because the last couple of days have brought bits of fits and smatterings of starts.  Some convicting, some illuminating--and all reassuring of God's love and involvement in my life.  He cares enough to speak to me, and for that I am always grateful, whether the speech brings encouragement, admonishment, warning, or direction.

Here's what I've been hearing lately:

Lesson of the Hi-Chew (taken from an email I wrote recently)

Yesterday Junior had a big bag of Hi-Chews and was taking all of the candies out and putting them back in.  She toddled around the room and when I asked her to share some with me, she did.  Then Daddy asked her to give Mommy a beso (since she has been refusing to do so lately; she just shakes her head), and instead she gave me three Hi-Chews.  She did that, like, three times.  :-p  So I ended up with a handful of Hi-Chews and no beso.  I told Batty that this was a good object lesson for our relationship with God.  God says He doesn't want our gifts and sacrifices; he wants our love and affection and heart.  He doesn't want the Hi-Chews; He wants the beso.

Easier to see now that I'm in the parent role how hurtful it is to God when I attempt to do stuff for Him, but don't also spend time and give Him my love and heart.  Doing stuff for God is great--but only with the heart there too.  Of course, I know Batty loves Mommy; I'd be a lot more stressed about this beso thing if she didn't cry out 3 times a night for me to hug her, and if she wasn't uber-clingy all the time on the weekends.  Haha.  But the Hi-Chew/beso thing made me think.

The Chaff and the Wheat, the Wicked and the Righteous

I've been listening to Matthew 13 in my slow slog through the Gospel of Matthew. I feel like I've been working on getting through Matthew for what seems like forever.  I don't advertise this, but in many ways the Old Testament is easier for me to understand than the New Testament because I often feel like I don't "get" Jesus.  I don't really understand the magnitude of what He did on the cross.  Like, I "know" that I'm a sinner and I need a Savior, and I know He died on the cross and rose again to conquer death, and because I believe that His death and resurrection paid for my sins, so I can have a right relationship with God, but... so often I don't feel that I really know what that means.

So then I read things like the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13, and freak out a little bit in my soul when I hear about the fact that weeds and wheat are permitted to grow together, and it's only in the end times that Jesus will sift through them and pick one apart from the other in judgment.  I freak out because the judgment is so severe:  the chaff will be raised together with the good stuff, but cast away into the fire.  But I freak out only a little because Jesus talks about the wicked versus the righteous and when I think about whether I'm more wicked than righteous, mmm...I tend to think of myself as tipping on the scale of righteous more than wicked.

Ah, but WRONG! Last night (and yes, it was just last night that this clicked) I had an epiphany. And like many of my revelations about Jesus, they are late in coming and seemingly elementary to many of you. But they are relieving and dear to me because while I feel I have a strong grasp on the Father and the Holy Spirit, King Jesus just seems so elusive most of the time.

So the epiphany went essentially like this:  The references to the wicked and the righteous have nothing (directly) to do with my deeds here on earth (i.e. the metric by which I measure my own "more righteous than not" status).  They have purely to do with the state of my soul as tainted by sin, or not.  And Jesus's work on the cross and his subsequent resurrection took the dead, twisted, rotted weed of my soul and covered it with the likeness and newness of fruitful wheat--ripe for the final harvest.  He made me righteous, and not by anything I have done, but only through what He has done.  On the cross.

Simple, I know.  And why it took me so long to arrive at this, ...not sure.  It's one of my great spiritual struggles. There you have it.  I'm glad to have that piece resolved.

Notes from Today's Sermon

• God doesn't call us to remain within our community, just taking care of our own. He called us to do what He did: go out to others who do not believe, and find them, and seek them, and get them.  Intercede for them, invest in their lives, and invite them to join the community and ultimately to believe in Jesus.

• Our world favors the following hierarchy in terms of prioritizing our time: financial (earning a lot of money), intellectual (knowing a lot of stuff), physical (how we present ourselves to others), relational (how we relate to others), spiritual (how we relate to God).  And while all such endeavors have their own level of importance, perhaps the better order of priority for our counterculture as Christians should be the inverse:  first spiritual, then relational.  Then physical, then intellectual, then financial.   I don't have a lot of free time these days, with Junior on our hands and a job that is more manageable but still time-consuming (especially with my first trial coming up!).  And now that I've stepped away from private practice and am doing the work I felt God had always called me to do, the financial aspect has gone away a lot.  And I do feel that I've placed a much greater emphasis on spending time with people.  But in listening to the sermon, I was convicted by this concept of the temporal versus the eternal.  I've always had a dream of owning a magazine-looking house. Not a big one, but a very cozy one that is inviting and nice to be in.  One that will make people want to visit, and feel welcome when they do visit, and one that will provide great memories for our kids....But that's the thing:  it's not the house that makes the memories, nor is it the nice-looking decor that makes people want to visit.  I want to think that the slick kitchen backsplash, six-burner gas range, stainless steel appliances (seriously, where did these wishes come from--HGTV?!?!), the shiny wooden floors, the tall ceilings, the modern arches, the bright and airy layout, the cozy throw over that perfectly placed corner chair, the minimalist-but-sophisticated decor, the plantation shutters (ha!), the granite countertops (that never seemed to matter to me before I knew about them), you get my drift... I want to think that all that stuff is necessary to the making of a welcoming, inviting, cozy, good-memory home.  And it's not.  In fact, I could have all that stuff and have just that: stuff.  Without a home at all.   And there's the rub: true life is found in the spiritual and relational.  Not the temporal stuff.  So all this time I spend (and it's not that much, but it's still a waste) on Pinterest fantasizing over this stuff is...wasteful.  It's not where true life is found.  That is time I could and should be using on spiritual things:  writing an email of encouragement.  Praying for the needs of brothers and sisters.  Interceding for the salvation of friends and family.  Reading the Bible.  Meditating on it.  Being still and knowing that He is God.  

• The Gospel should drive us to spend our time, talent, and treasure on God's mission, for His glory.  Amen!

Dear Junior

Dear Junior,

Oftentimes I go through our days together as if I'm watching a magic show.  A magic show with lots of "crayons stay on table, please" and "not in your mouth, please" and "can you please share with Mommy?  No? Okay..." and wiping up seemingly endless yellow snot and the occasional poopy diaper (though Daddy takes care of 95% of those).  But magical all the same.  And I wonder if every mom feels as lucky as I do.

You make so many moments special, particularly when you flash your winning grin--with your teeth showing and your face all scrunched up and a giggle gurgling from the back of your throat.  You give me this face when I come get you in the morning.  When we lie down to nurse.  When you see me enter the room.  When you walk, because you realize that you're actually walking.  

You reach out for Mommy all the time.  Still in your clingy stage, and Daddy tries to reduce the amount of time Mommy holds you to alleviate my foot pain, but I keep telling him--I don't mind.  That's right; Mommy doesn't mind.  These years will be short, my little.  So very short. And soon you'll be too big for me to ergo to sleep at church and too heavy for me to carry to and fro.  So no, I don't mind at all.  Let me carry you whenever you reach for me, and joyfully and with gladness and gratitude.

And you're just plain busy.  It's often fun just to sit back and watch you do your thing:  pick up the poker chips and put them on the couch.  Then bring them to the table. Then bring them to and from a cardboard box on the floor in the living room.  Grab your baton and walk about as you carry on with the rest of your many tasks.  Visit the stuffies--Birdie, JJ, Froggy, Bunny Blanket, and Sleepy Sheepy continue to be your favorites.  You grab them with great excitement, then pat them lovingly on the back.  Then you carry them in one arm and continue on your merry way.  You like the bigger stuffies--ones that are half your size--so you look funny as you amble about with your treasured fuzzy friends.  Mommy can't get enough of it.

You do a funny thing with books: you just flip the pages back and forth with extreme interest.  And you attempt to write, but always with the wrong side facing the paper.  You shake your head no vigorously when we ask you questions.  Sometimes your no means no.  Sometimes it actually means yes, we think.  

I continue to watch with great amusement when you drink out of your straw cup.  It feels like such an achievement to have had you skip the sippy cup altogether (to avoid dental problems). Now I need to figure out how and when to wean you from sucking your thumb.  Oh, your left thumb.  That will not be easy.  You and it have been such close friends for almost an entire year now...

You're mostly obedient, though you do like to cry out when you don't get what you want sometimes.  That always makes me uneasy, but thankfully you settle down pretty quickly, and Mommy and Daddy encourage each other not to give in.  We remind ourselves that you need us to provide the structure that you don't know how to create, and creating that structure will give you boundaries that make you feel like life is safe and predictable.

You have an extensive palate.  Right now I think the only food you really shun is corn. Yellow corn. Poor, poor yellow corn.  You'll eat everything from dried seaweed to roasted mushrooms, roasted sweet potatoes (including the purple, white, Chinese, North Carolina medium, and North Carolina jumbo varieties we tried this weekend), green beans, spicy tofu, garlic anything, brown rice, avocado, yogurt, carrots, and all kinds of fruit.  But not yellow corn.    Oh well, more for Daddy!

You bring us endless delight, my little.  I treasure each day with you and am so thankful I get to be your mommy.  

Lots of love to Bathands,

Mommy

Let's Be Real...

Life is good here in Palmtreeville.  Mostly.  

I still pinch myself most days, tickled and shocked at the fact that I'm finally living out my dream at work.  Unbelievable.  

My wonderful baby girl and her dad are fantastic (albeit exhausting) housemates.  This evening, Daddy was trying to build a tower taller than Junior with her new wooden blocks, and Junior was toddling over and knocking it over like Godzilla.  Good times had by all.  These are the moments that make life magical.

And ridiculously hot weather aside, it is beautiful here.  Flowers, trees, puffy clouds, a beautiful sky, and a piercing sunset every evening as I leave the office.  The fact that I leave at a time at which I can still see the sun is a shocker.

So...life is good here in Palmtreeville.  Mostly.

Today at lunch, I took a walk (yes, I took my lunch hour! Again, a shocker), and walked round and round the nearby lake, passing hoards of sandpipers, herons, swans, and geese.  

It was nice.  But I was lonely.

My mind was in New York... on the grimy, nasty streets of New York.  On the crowded, bustling sidewalks of New York.  On the beautiful, beloved faces of my friends-like-family in New York.  I kept thinking (as I often do these days) that I can't wait to go back to visit.  Surely, it won't be the same--and that will be a mixed blessing--but I still can't wait to go back and see the faces that I love, and the City that I was too busy to learn to love.

Reminded of our call to remain grateful in all things, and reminded of the tremendous abundance of life that God has given me here and there and everywhere, I tried to pray.  I really did.  But not much came out.  Some praise, some thanks, and then I fell silent.

And I decided that it was probably okay for me to just be still and know that He is God.  (Always my excuse when I don't have prayers readily on my lips.)  And that He was walking with me, mourning with me a while, encouraging me to be glad, and helping me remember my prior life with thanksgiving and some sorrow.

The Struggle is Real, And Grace Is, Too

I've been reading a fantastic book called "Have a Little Faith," by Mitch Albom (who is not a Christian).  I read last night a section when Mitch went to an old dilapidated church in Detroit and got to know the pastor there.  The pastor (a former drug addict and dealer) mentioned that sometimes his parishioners came to church all high on drugs, and Mitch said, "Really? Don't you mind?"  And the pastor's response was this:

"I don't care if you're drunk, or you just left the drug house, I don't care.  When I'm sick, I go to the emergency room.  And if the problem continues, I go again.  So whatever's ailing you, let this church be your emergency room.  Until you get the healing, don't stop comng." 

That response reminded me of Jesus saying that He came to heal the sick, not the well.  And it convicted me, because I spend a lot of time trying to be "well" -- or at least do things that make me look like I'm "well."  But God knows the truth, and deep down, I do too.  I am sick and I need help.  And in addition to mourning this and repenting, I need to also REJOICE! Because Jesus is our emergency room, and he invites us to come to him for healing... over and over...and over... and over.  Until we get the healing, He says, we are still welcome--don't stop coming.  How wonderful!