A Long Week

It’s been a long week. I guess it kind of started out long – if that’s even possible. And I guess, technically, this week is no longer than any other I’ve ever lived. But you know how it is. Some weeks just seem to drag on forever. Especially when they start out rough.

Emry hasn’t been feeling very well. It’s hard to tell exactly what has been bothering our little peanut. She can’t very well say how she feels or what hurts. You just know she’s not at all herself. She doesn’t smile as much, she’s fussy, and I’ve spent three nights up with her for an hour or more, trying to coax her back to sleep. This from the girl who has slept through the night since she was six weeks old!

Mostly it seems to be her teeth. Her gums are sharp enough to chew food, but not one pearly white has peeped through yet. Meanwhile, she pulls at her ears, and chews on everything and it can really hurt to feed her! And people tell stories of their kids teething. The son of a guy I work with had nine – NINE – come in at once! I can’t imagine that, but sometimes I believe Emry might be in enough pain for nine…

Then she started running a fever on Saturday. I thought it might be related to the teeth. Now I’m not so sure. It was a little frightening, holding our little peanut while she burned like she was on fire. I was ready to call the doctor Monday morning, but the fever broke Sunday morning. By that afternoon, she was much more herself. Except she woke up that night at one in the morning, screaming. It was a long night…

The teething seemed to continue, but on Monday afternoon she started getting a rash. At first I thought it was just the warm water in her bath, but by Tuesday morning, it was all over her chest, belly and face. I called Ed at work, and he said he had noticed it, too. Except that she continued to be fussy (but was that the teeth?), the rash didn’t seem to bother her. So, we decided to wait it out before we called the doctor. (Since she has an appointment on Monday anyhow…) I looked online just to see what it might be. I know you shouldn’t diagnose from Google, but everything I could find pointed to a thing called Roseola, which is a virus that has a fever and then a rash that doesn’t seem to bother them although it might cause them to be fussier than the fever. There’s no antibiotics to treat it, it goes away once it runs its course in a week or less and if the child has it, she’ll be immune forever. Meanwhile, we had another long night…

Sure enough, by Wednesday morning the rash was clearing up. I gave her a warm water bath (no soap, except to wash her hair because it needs it every couple of days) and by that afternoon, there was just a few spots on her chest that cleared up by the evening. She was happier, more her playful self and I picked up a natural teething rub to try to help with that little problem. That night, she woke up for about fifteen minutes, but she wasn’t screaming. I rubbed her little, sharp gums and put her back in bed where she promptly fell asleep.

Thursday morning we awoke with a smile – not screams. We played happily, took a good nap, tried yogurt, made all the noises Papa is teaching us and Mama hopes we sleep through the night completely tonight! But whether we do or not, it is an answer to prayer to have our happy, smiling, little girl back well and healthy – even if we still don’t have any teeth showing!

Celebrating Death?

This morning, Emry and I went on a run. It’s been nearly a week since we’ve been on a good run. She’s had a cold and I didn’t want her out in the cold, frosty mornings. But this morning wasn’t as cold, she’s better and we were both glad to be out in the fresh air.

I think autumn is my favorite time to run. It’s cool and crisp. I can see the puffs of my breath. And the leaves are lovely to look at as they change colors every day. However, the beauty of God’s colored creation is somewhat marred as we run up and down neighborhoods, admiring the reds and oranges and,,,oh! The inflatable spiders, skeletons hanging in trees and makeshift tombstones with creepy faces and spider webs covering them.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed that recent years have sparked more and more décor for Halloween. I’m even beginning to think that more “decoration” is put out for this holiday than for Christmas. Which is more than a little disturbing. I don’t really like those huge inflatable things people tie down in their yards (especially when some yards in Pittsburgh are hardly big enough to hold one), but I’ll take a cute polar bear in a Santa hat over creepy black widow spiders any day.

I’m not here to get on a soapbox and say Christians should avoid Halloween like a black plague. They shouldn’t take their kids trick-or-treating. If trick-or-treaters come to their house, they should shoo them away anyway possible. They shouldn’t let their kids dress up and should write letters to their teachers explaining why their kids don’t celebrate Halloween and how evil it is. Instead, we should celebrate the Reformation, and memorize the 95 Theses, and have an extra prayer night for all those evil people out there (other Christians not as holy as we included) who are out dressed as a princess getting candy in a sack. Since Emry is far too young to be dressing up and doesn’t even know what candy is, the questions that arise with Halloween are not a bridge we have to cross yet. I know people I admire and respect on all sides of the Halloween coin. So, I will leave such decisions up to Christian parents who truly want to glorify God and respect them for the conclusions they prayerfully come to. Just as I do about other things like clothing, schooling, vaccinations and eating organic food.

However, there is one thing I want to say. As Emry and I were out this morning, we passed a small yard decorated (can you even call it that?) as a graveyard. Of course, it was one of those silly ones versus scary ones – one that had funny names on the “tombstones” like I.B. Dead. Still, it got me to thinking about death.

Honestly, graveyards don’t scare me. I find them interesting, reading names and epitaphs and wondering who those people were and what sort of life they lived. But I would still never put one in my yard. Why? Because, to me, it feels like you’re trying to celebrate death.

But don’t Christians celebrate death? I asked myself. I mean, when a fellow Christian dies, we rejoice that they have gone to Heaven to be with our Savior.

Exactly. We’re not celebrating their death – we are celebrating their life. Their eternal life.

We as Christians honor, respect and preserve life. That is why abortion is so evil. Why euthanasia is so horrible. Why suicides are sad and murders so hateful. Life is precious. God Himself created life. He breathed it into Adam and Eve. And He desired to preserve it…until sin entered the world and brought death. Heinous sin seeks to snuff life out. It wants to destroy what God has created. And so, God gives eternal life to those He has chosen. Death’s victory is destroyed. When a Christian dies, he simply discards the shadowy life he held precious on earth for the glorious life with his Savior. And that is worth celebrating.

So, regardless of where you stand in the mix of Halloween, I hope you will step back and remember what we should celebrate: life. Life here on earth, yes, but more especially our future life in Heaven. I can’t wait.

Another First

A lot of times, I tend to think of Emry having firsts as something good. She rolled over for the first time. Tried bananas for the first time. Sat up by herself for the first time. And soon she will have her first Thanksgiving, first Christmas and first New Year. All kinds of fun things to watch and enjoy with her. But there are certainly other firsts to be had.

At the end of last week, Emry had her first cold. We think Ed brought the germs home. After all, he works with lots of people in a big store with lots of customers. But he didn’t get it too bad. I was the one who went through a whole box of tissues, and nearly lost my voice, and tried to keep the house clean by wiping down everything and putting the hand sanitizer in an easy-to-reach place. I’m not usually so OCD about germs. After all, the cold will pass in it’s own time and who have I got to share it with? Except now I have Emry.

In the back of my mind, I knew the little girl didn’t stand a chance. For the choice is easy: stay away so she doesn’t get the cold and let her starve or feed her. Needless to say, I chose the latter – although I was very careful to wash my hands, and not sneeze on her, and even try not to breathe too close to her. But she awoke Thursday morning with some sniffles. And by Friday, I had to get the nose-bubble-thingy out and persecute her as I tried to clear her nasal passages. It’s just a good thing we don’t remember what are parents do to us as infants…

She’s still waking up a bit congested in the morning, but all-in-all she has survived her first cold with very little trouble. (And since she’s also teething, sometimes I couldn’t pin down if her moments of fussiness were her cold or her teeth). We’ve been keeping warm, and have our humidifier on, and even having our nose cleaned out isn’t as bad as it was the first day.

A first cold is inevitable (as is a second, and third, and who knows how many a person has in their lifetime). And even though she was worn out the first day, I would not call our little girl miserable at any moment. Somehow, this little girl always finds a reason to smile and be happy. And best of all, she actually wanted to cuddle a little. A rarity I treasured for a few hours!

The Truck: In Conclusion

When I was born, my dad had a truck. It was a red truck. It had leather seats that were very hot to sit on after an afternoon at the pool. And I can remember camping in the back of it. Aside from that, I don’t have any clue what year it was, or what model, or how many miles it had on it. But I do know from stories it was a stick shift and did not have power steering.

I think my dad got his truck when he was eighteen. I don’t know how much he paid for it, but I do know it was less that he paid for the lawn mower he presently owns. He sold it when I was eight years old because there was no way it was going to make it all the way from Tennessee to New Hampshire. I will always remember that truck.

Last week, we officially said good-bye to Ed’s truck. He’s had his 2000 Ford Ranger for as long as I have known him. All told, he had it for twelve years and 214,000 miles. I never did drive it. (It was too special for that…namely, just getting it in gear took a special touch very few had.) But I did ride in it and so did Emry. So, we made sure we took a picture of it so Emry will know what the truck Papa had when she was born looked like.

Getting rid of it has been a long process. I can’t even remember when it started – a couple of months ago? We took it to the shop to see what it would take to get it fixed. The mechanics only managed to make it worse. So, after a long evening of going to get it, it not starting, giving up and going home…Ed decided we were done with it. Our best bet? We’d salvage it. We thought we’d get nearly $150 for that, which is better than nothing. But Ed had misplaced the title. That took a couple of weeks and $51, so we thought we’d get a $100 for it. Then a guy Ed works with said he could do better than that because it is registered through March and not in real bad shape. We actually got quite a few bites posting it on Craigslist, but we needed to get it towed back to the house. One afternoon, Ed went across town (which, in Pittsburgh is no easy feat – you might as well drive to Ohio which takes about the same amount of time) to meet the tow truck to get it back to our house where we then had one week to get rid of it before it would need to be moved for the weekly street cleaners in order to avoid a parking ticket. (When you park on the street, your cars have to be moved to the other side one day a week for a few hours so the street cleaners can – or cannot since they don’t clean every week – get by. Otherwise, you get a nice parking ticket.) But when Ed went to get it, a guy at the shop offered him $450 for it. Ed knew he might be able to do better than that, but if he took this offer he wouldn’t have to worry about tow trucks, street cleaners or parking tickets. So, he took it.

It’s taken a few weeks for the guy to get the money and all parties to get back from vacations, but this past week we officially signed over the title, dropped the insurance and collected the payment. And feel very blessed to have gotten much more from it than we expected. God is good.

Friends

Having moved about my entire life, I learned not to put a whole lot of stock in friendships. They come and go far too easily. And having good friends only to leave them hurts so much that I went through more than one cycle of simply trying not to make friends because I was only going to move away anyhow. I found books instead. Imaginations I could scribble down and take with me. Admittedly, I became a bit cynical about friendships…to the point where I thought I could just live without. Thankfully, God is above cynicism.

No matter where I lived, I made friends. God brought other girls into my life, and we couldn’t help but be friends. Most of these girls came for a season and departed when I moved away. But several have lasted through many moves. I am even one of those very blessed people that has those one or two really good friends that time doesn’t pale. We can pick right back up where we started every time we’re together.

So, despite years of cynicism I am here to state that friends are very special, and they are something God gives us to enrich our lives. How do I know that? Well, because I am at a place in life where I don’t have any friends. I mean, I don’t have any friends in the place where I live. I have women I know. I have people I work with. I even have a church family who has blessed me in many ways. But I don’t have any friends. I don’t have anywhere nearby I can sit down with for coffee and discuss just about anything. I don’t have another’s home to visit, or neighborhood to walk, or bookstore to wander about. It’s just me. And it’s very lonely.

Of course, I don’t mean I am alone by any means. I have Ed, who is my best friend. And I always have Emry. But since moving to Pittsburgh, I have realized that for the past many years my friends have been my family. In Texas. In Minnesota. God blessed me with friends both new and old who were very important pieces of not just my life but who I was. I had such rich friendships that several of these young women I am still in touch with very often and we exchange e-mails, phone calls or even texts that are full of laughter, tears, prayers, joys and sorrows. They are the relationships that continue to boost my life…only, they are hundreds of miles away.

I am learning not to take friendships for granted. The truth is, in time I may come across a friend here in Pittsburgh. I’m not taking any bets on that, but one can’t help but to hope. Meanwhile, I treasure all the more a brief day spent at Allyson’s, or an hour long phone call with Andrea, or an e-mail from Karen or Anna, or a text from Tirzah. Because friends are not a dime a dozen – they are one in a million. And I thank God for every single one of them and the time they take to be my friend.

Six Months

Today we are six months old – a whole half a year! As you can see, we have grown quite a bit since arriving in April. And yet, our little peanut remains just that. We are guessing she is somewhere around ten and a half pounds now. She still wears some newborn clothes, but is mostly around the 3-month size. Six month clothes are definitely a little large, but we wear them sometimes just because that’s what most of our fall and winter clothes are (since we are six months…). We eat “real” food now – having tried bananas, carrots, animal crackers and applesauce. We love to squeal, roll over and sit up with help. Just this week, rolling over has become a mode of transportation to get just about anywhere we wish to go! Doubtless, crawling everywhere is soon to come…

Six months old!

Starting to sit up.

Do you like my Sock Monkey?

More Firsts

Our trip to New Hampshire was a tornado of firsts for our little Emry. Some of them (like first time out of her birth state) were obviously going to occur. Others were not planned, but when your nearly-six-month-old starts waking up hungry at 4:30 in the morning and wants to eat more often than ever, well…it’s time to start real food! (Either that or spend half your day feeding her and getting less sleep than you did when she was born!) Here’s a list of some of her wonderful firsts:

• ·      First time out of Pennsylvania, her birth state. We drove through or visited the states of New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Jersey. Funny enough, she has visited more states in her five months of life than some people do their entire lives – including all the New England states but Rhode Island. (Which we had planned to visit, but sadly did not.)
• ·      First time at the beach and putting her feet in the ocean. It was a little cold, but she didn’t seem to mind until a slightly large wave caught us by surprise.
• ·      First time meeting dogs up close. My sister has two: a five-year-old Labradoodle named Coda and a ten-week-old German Shepherd named Chloe. I wasn’t sure how she would respond, but she didn’t mind them coming up and licking her on the face. She would just scrunch up her face in preparation and then put out her hands to pet them afterwards.
• ·      First time playing the piano. Aunt Jenny gave her a very short lesson one morning.
• ·      First time eating bananas. They are a hit and she knew exactly what to do, although she would very much like to feed herself.
• ·      First animal crackers. We weren’t sure what to do with the first one, but we are an animal cracker eating champ now.
• ·      First nickname (besides Peanut). Cousin Jay somehow transposed Emry into “Aggie”.
• ·      First time around lots of kids. Of course, her cousin Jay kept her very occupied, wanting to build houses with “Aggie” every day. He would even pull his blanket from his bed so she could lie on his bedroom floor and “play” with him. We also visited my dearest friend Allyson and her fast-growing seven children. As well as that house full, Allyson’s sister Charity stopped by with her three kids. Let’s just say our little place is very quiet and dull…
• ·      First time apple picking. Well, she didn’t exactly pick…
• ·      First tumble – and bruise. Sitting among pumpkins can be dangerous…especially when you don’t sit up on your own very well yet. Of course, that was the first of many tumbles yet to come.
• ·      First time screaming most of a Sunday church service. Not sure this is a first I want to remember, but she worked herself up so much she couldn’t settle down. We spent half of the service walking around outside, but she’s very hard to settle because she simply doesn’t want to be held and soothed. So much for being the sweet, quiet angel everyone thought she was when meeting her before the service!
• ·      First pair of shoes. Grandma sent her her first pair of shoes and we did put them on Sunday morning. They didn’t last long…
• ·      First visit to “Boston in the fall”. My favorite city! Pittsburgh can take a back seat. And she enjoyed the cool, brisk, somewhat drizzly day all bundled up in her stroller. We got her picture with “Make Way for Ducklings” and she fell fast asleep.
• ·      First Patriots gear. Papa would rather we not mention this…  And, don’t worry, our little Pittsburgher has lots of Steelers gear.
• ·      First taste of lemon. Between Papa and Uncle Scott…funny enough, she rather enjoyed it. She did make one face when Ed took it from her and the sourness hit, but I think she enjoyed it because it felt good on her gums.