Christmas Eve Morning

Welcome to the Sunshine state!

We woke up this morning and were attacked by these vicious toys! Watch out…that stuffed solider packs quite the punch!

The Christmas Spirit.

Some pictures really are worth a thousand words!

Welcome Home Lucy!

On Monday, we spontaneously decided to bring home a puppy for Emma!  She is a six week Lab mix with a very sweet demeanor.  Besides lots of cleaning, bathing, and middle of the night trips outdoors…she already feels like family.  We think this is preparation for the changes to come in May!

        

All the little stories.

It is really nice to be a part of a church that emphasizes healthy community.     We just joined a new small group, and one of the first things that groups are encouraged to do is to take the first few weeks and give everyone an opportunity to share their story…where they have come from, where they are and where they are going.  Tonight we met with our small group for the third time.

Tonight was our night to share.

Rebecca led the way and beautifully shared her side of our story, and then it was my turn.  As I began telling my story, I started noticing that the most memorable parts of my story always involved her.  My story moved on and on and on, and the whole time I was realizing that there is this whole list of little stories that involve all different kinds of people.  People that loved me, people who liked me, and people that didn’t.  There were all of these little stories, but the ones I loved telling the most revolved around my wife.  How I first noticed her, how we met, how we fell in love, how I got her number with 100 high school girls watching, how she helped me pass Greek, etc.

So my story is made up of all of these little beautiful stories and the most beautiful ones are with my wife.  Now, isn’t it amazing how God can take all of these stories and bring them together under one umbrella so that all the little stories become our story.  The story of us.

Tonight I was reminded that all of the little stories that make “me” are really no longer just mine, but they are ours.  And our story is one of the little stories that makes the story of the Kingdom of God so great and so compelling.  Now, I am ready to tell it all over again to anyone who will listen.

The Great Pumpkin

Isn’t it funny how we grow up with these preconceived notions of what it means to be great?  We all have these pictures in our minds of what greatness is, what it looks like, and what it feels like.  If you are anything like me, then you know that when we put those sometime ignorant thoughts into practice the only possible outcome is disappointment.

A couple of days ago disappointment set in big time…in the most unlikey of places.  Rebecca and I took Emma to pick out her first pumpkin (ok…so it wasn’t her first pumpkin…but it was the first pumpkin that she might remember), so of course I have this grand image in my mind of our family going to pick our first pumpkin.  In my mind’s eye, I saw the three of us all holding hands, humming a familiar tune, pa rousing through a field littered with little orange balls sitting comfortably on lush green grass.  I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and a cool breeze lapping my head.  Ahhh…memories of grand illusions are such bliss.

Well, when we finally found the time to get together and go pick our pumpkin, it was forty degrees and slightly drizzling.  If that wasn’t bad enough, our only option to get a pumpkin within fourty-five minutes was either Wal-mart or the “Pumpkin Patch.”  Now I realize that the “Pumpkin Patch” sounds like it would fit right in to my grand scheme…but it isn’t the quiet, quaint, nostalgic “Pumpkin Patch” that you are thinking of.  Instead, it sits right on one of the busiest roads in our little urban town, and it is filled with some of the biggest inflatable playground equipment that I have ever seen.  We have all been around those things before and they are anything but quiet.  If you can hear over the fifty generators, then chances are you can hear little Jimmy crying somewhere in the distance because little Johnny just laid the smack down.  I think all of the crazy parents in Central Virginia braved the wild that day, because they knew that a little bit of drizzle means a whole lot of fun when it comes to mammoth inflatable slides.

As we pulled off of the main thoroughfare Emma looked out of her window and through the excitment could only get one word out – S L I D E!!!  So now we are in this ridiculous predicament that we have put ourselves in.  Do we just rush the pumpkin thing, skip the S L I D E!!! and hope that she isn’t too old for her wants to hurt her?  Or do we own the fact that there are 500 crazy parents who brought their 1000 crazier kids to this little corner and just resign ourselves to the current reality and add one more crazy little girl to the inflatable jungle?  Now, before I get to how we responded I want you to think long and hard about what you would have done…hard decisions don’t come easily.

Ok, times up.  I made the wise choice, the one that I think every parent should make, the one that shows an honest love of family, and compassion for our children’s deepest desires…we rushed the pumpkin thing and we are still hoping that she isn’t old enough for her “wants to hurt her.”  I know what some of you are thinking…”why didn’t they guy just cave in and fork over the seven bucks give the poor girl the joy of riding down a soaking wet slide at 100mph?”  Here comes the saddest part…I was wet, tired, and miffed by all of the chaos going on around me so I decided to take the high road :*).   I have no good excuse.

In about fifteen minutes, we had inspected every pumpkin in the patch, let Emma watch the “big kids” ride the slides, and we even let her ride a big pumpkin (there is nothing like safe free entertainment, but I must admit it did make me feel a bit like Marlin from Finding Nemo – click here).

After we had picked our pumpkin we got back in our car, and Emma talked about picking a pumpkin for the rest of the car ride, the rest of the evening, and for the rest of the week.  Being with her family, it was the best pumpkin picking experience that she could remember.  So I guess, my notions of great parenting should maybe back off of hoping for picturesque moments and focus on being fully present with my family under whatever circumstances that may be presented.  And maybe, just maybe the disappointment that comes with missed grandeur really is self inflicted after all.

The Great Pumpkin Carving

This afternoon, I took some time to sit down and teach my daughter the art of pumpkin carving.  With the help of a cheap stencil and some cheaper tools, we were underway.  So, I thought I would share a few pictures from this afternoon.

Believe it or not, she dove right in.  You can see her here with pretty much her entire arm in the belly of the pumpkin.  While she didn’t mind touching the slimey, gooey guts of the melon, she made it very clear that she wasn’t planning on eating it.

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Here is the finished product.  It is amazing what a two year old can do when you give her a few sharp utensils and some time.  And she still even has a few limbs left.  You saw the pictures yourself, this is solely the work of a two year old with only the encouragement of her father…that is why she will win the science fair in kindergarten too!

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Here is one for the road!  Thanks for stopping in!  Check back again next week as I already have an idea for my next post.

Down on the Farm

Ahhh…the smell of hay on a trailer, pumpkins on the ground, and fall in the air.  It is too hard to pass up and it is way too hard not to love the changing of the seasons.  Last Saturday, we all piled into the car and headed off to a local farm to experience the best of the beginning of autumn with the good ‘ole boys and country girls of Bedford county.

I must admit that the thought of spending a Saturday on a bonefide farm complete with cow train, corn maze, corn box, and pumpkin canon was appealing from the get go.  I mean, who doesn’t want to shoot a five pound pumpkin 250 yards to see it explode on impact?  The sound of a canon and the sight of a skyward bound pumpkin is far more entertaining than even the greatest moments of American Idol.  

 

Last weekend we gave in to that feeling that we all have, that is, to get out of the routine of our lives and slow down to a lazier pace…and it was a beautiful thing.  

 

 

One of the highlights of the day was the “cornundrum,” which was a huge sand box without the sand.  In place of it was pounds upon pounds of loose corn kernels.  Who knew a “corn box” could be so much fun?  Emma  could have sat in there and played with all of that corn on Rebecca’s lap all day.

While Emma may have lost the last battle with the sand in the Bahamas, she made up for it in her victory over the corn on the farm

 

 

 

 

The road was long, but it ended up being a great day filled with laughter, long walks through the corn, and plenty of love.  The corn maze was the perfect venue to neander through long and lonley roads and it called for us to remember that love is much deeper than the holler, stronger than the rivers, higher than the pine trees growin’ tall upon the hill.  Purer than the snowflakes that fall in late December, honest as a robin on a springtime window sill…and longer than the song of a whipporwill.

There is something about Randy Travis that just goes hand in hand with moments like these  

 

 

Then there was the cow train…and what a train it was.  A train of seven cows riding on two wheels with flailing legs in the breeze is a site that everyone needs to see at least once in a lifetime.   We threw a saddle on old bessie, wrastled up some doggies, and we were ready to head’em off at the pass!

 

 

 

This is our shot of the day and one that we plan on hanging up the wall for the long haul.  All in all, our time down on the farm proved to be a time of deep connection and deep reflection…one that we will not soon forget.

Bahama Montage

Blue Eyes, Blue Water, Blue Fun

Smiling for the Camera.

Here, Emma and I have been basking in the sun all afternoon and we decided to take a dip in cool Caribbean waters to put all of our hard core sun bathing to rest. The water here is absolutely beautiful, one day it will be more clear that the clearest swimming pool you can imagine and the next it will be a bit mirky as it is here. But either way it feels like bathwater and brings me back to those fond memories of my first steps in the warm salt waters of Myrtle Beach.

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Under Grand Bahama

Deep beneath the island of Grand Bahama lurks two beautiful women, and the elusive, slightly balding americanus patriotius virginioni.

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Hermit Crab.

Umm…Crab.

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Anniversary on the Island

Our anniversary surprised more than ever this year, and it did so in Paradise. The friends that we were vacationing with were kind enough to babysit for us one afternoon which gave us several hours to explore some of the greatest untouched parts of the island. Our first stop was in the remote Fortune Bay. We laughed, we played, and we enjoyed an entire afternoon remembering, celebrating and embracing the depth of what marriage has brought us. She was beautiful as always and I was honored to be called husband by her for another year.

Sandals on the Beach

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Sandals on the Beach.

Beautiful.

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Beauties on the Beach

This is where we spent most days on the beach basking in the hot Bahama sun.

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In the water

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Blue Water, Blue Sky, Blue eyes.

I just had to add this one because it is probably my favorite of the trip her this trip.

Sand

We started this trip knowing that there were going to be some traumatic experiences with our youngest daughter and her obsession with sand. It wasn’t long after she was born that we realized that one of the more questionable tendencies that she inherited from her father was an unusual compulsion to remain clean at all costs. Even on her first birthday, she refused to dive into that juicy, moist, mouth watering angel food cake that my wife had prepared. One urge that most toddlers aren’t going to object to easily. She passed on an opportunity to smear whipped icing all over arms, legs, hands and hair. I am not even sure that I could have passed that up .

The story of Emma and sand goes all the way back to a trip that we took home to Tampa where we went to Clearwater beach for a few days. She made it really clear that she had no intention of even touching the sand. The way that she responded when I tried to let her play in the sand, you would have thought the floor of the beach was some flesh eating acid or worse an alligator infested swamp that she was trying to escape from. It made the water fun, and the sand challenging.

Fast-foward one year…her hatred of the sand has only grown with time and it seems that there is no relief in sight. Our first week here on the beach and the score is sand-five, Emma zero. But then on one faithful day there is a turn. All of a sudden we see her watching the three older children that we are vacationing with playing in the sand. Rebecca and I share this moment where we can see light in the midst of miles of sand, and we watch as our daughter step into victory.

As she stands, there is look on her face of complete uncertainty but determination. You can see from the picture on the right that determination and and uncertainty don’t look that much different than the “get me off of this gritty, nasty sand” look on the face of a two year old.

Hands in the Sand.

Slowly, step by baby step her preconceived notions of what sand is and how it gets in your swim suit begin to breakdown and she begins to see the joy that comes with deep blue surf, real friends, bright sunshine, and bleach white sand. Over the course of the next hour she would experience accomplishment like she never had before, and we could see that joy written all over her face. Now, we are waiting with baited breath to get a glimpse of that fleeting moment one more time. We are told what it happens from time to time and it is in those moments that God gives us small visible expressions of his grace.

The day after, we woke up, prepared for the beach, and fought the sand all over again. Now the score is sand – ten, Emma – one. But who’s counting?

Grand Bahama Island

Four days in and we could not have been more unwound. We are living in the paradise of Grand Bahama Island for the next few days and everything could not be better. The sun is strong, the water is warm, and freedom of vacation is plentiful.

It only took 13 hours to get here from our home in the states, but the trip was definitely worth it. We traveled with some close friends, and the trip only made us closer. Our two year old was hilarious…she woke up to start the trip at 12:30am and never really went back to sleep until the last leg of the trip. Rebecca and I couldn’t believe that she was so persistent.

When we finally arrived in GBI we knew the coming days would bring more adventure than we could have ever asked for. For the first week we really took advantage the pool and the short walk to the beach, and one night we all went over to the Our Lucaya and soaked in some live Bahamian entertainment complete with “Bahamianized” covers from Bob Marley, Bobby McFerrin, and even a little Jimmy Hendrix.

Life is beautiful in the Bahamas!

More to come.