When I wrote this post, almost a year and a half ago, our granddaughter was two. But I find it still rings true, although the exact details have changed. I could write a new post to reflect the perils of trying to write something substantive while parenting a three-and-a-half year old…(substitute “Go, Diego, Go” for “Kipper the Dog” and chocolate protein bars for goldfish)…but I’ve been soothing nightmare fears since 4:30 AM, and now it’s nearly 6:00 and I haven’t made my coffee yet (see steps 1 and 2, below).
So while I continue to ponder self-discipline, and the parallels between our relationships with our children and with Our Father, I think I’ll just let you read this.
FIRST PUBLISHED ON APRIL 17, 2013:
Step 1: Set your clock for a bit earlier than usual, so that you can write your first draft before the two-year-old wakes up. Then hit snooze until the German Shepherd sticks his cold nose in your face and wills you to let-him-out-for-pete’s-sake-what’s-wrong-with-you.
Step 2: Brew a large cup of coffee and decide to check your email while the coffee is brewing. 30 minutes later …when you’ve answered three emails, deleted 12 others, caught up on Facebook (including taking your turn in Words with Friends) and checked the weather… your coffee is cold, and the toddler is stirring.
I came across this thought while re-reading an old journal this week. It struck me as appropriate in honor of Father’s Day, and in observance of the imminent official start of summer, to look at our Heavenly Father as described by the sons of Korah:
The Lord God is both sun and shield. He will give grace and glory.” Psalm 84:11
“Was the psalmist being clever?” I wondered. Is this a contradiction? Or a paradox? How can God be both my light and shade? Both tanning bed and sunscreen? Both sun roof and umbrella? Continue reading
Ric Runestad is a resident of Fort Wayne and an occasional guest editorial writer for our evening paper, the News-Sentinel. I opened to the editorial page on Thursday and read a remarkable piece of apologetic–a really fresh response to the timeless question of “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
You can read the entire piece by following the link. I’ve reprinted a slightly abridged version, along with a follow-up thought I had about it.
[Not knowing how to contact Mr. Runestad directly, I can only hope that he won’t mind.]
The young couple sat holding their newborn baby as the stranger entered the hospital room…
Without preamble he began. “I represent a company that wishes to make you an offer. A ‘bargain’ we will call it. This new child of yours is just what we are needing for an experiment.
In my humble opinion, this is still one of the all-time best comedy bits, ever.
Growing up, we kept our LPs*** stored in a new (at the time) GE Stereophonic Console in the living room, and as a kid I went through them all: Henry Mancini, Sing Along with Mitch Miller!, dozens of sundry Christmas albums, Bill Cosby, ….and Bob Newhart.
Below is probably the very first comedy routine I ever heard, and the parent album won a Grammy Award back in 1961. Yet it’s a testament to its simple brilliance that it still works perfectly 50+ years later.
Motherhood: a great gift, a great responsibility. The real “oldest profession,” an amazing, exhausting, unending, uplifting assignment which women have been bravely taking on for all of recorded time.
Nine months of miraculous but uncomfortable growth, a few hours of often agonizing pain, and a lifetime of caring, teaching, loving, worrying over and praying for the life one has brought into the world.
And yet, the National Organization of Women (NOW) thinks that it would be a good idea to thank the mothers among us who have stood up for legalized abortion. Somehow, making it optional to actually care, teach, love, worry and pray for a child one has conceived, is seen as noble and progressive?
Notice the banner down in the right-hand corner: …was marching for safe and legal abortion really the best thing that YOUR mother did for you?