You can't always get what you want

I anticipate few people will comment on this blog entry. Or if they do, it will be my family asking me to please put more flattering pictures of Abby online than the ones above. Because this has nothing to do with something cute our daughter did, or how adorable she is, or what an adventure these last two months has been. No, this is about what I've learned about myself and my heart in my short time as a parent. It's about sin and selfishness and total depravity. Abigail is an excellent teacher, often instructing by example, and continually revealing layers of my heart that are sorely in need of cleansing.

My daughter is an excellent whiner. At its most tolerable, her crying is a pitiful whimper--a half-hearted attempt at getting our attention and getting her way. But at its worst, her wailing starts at a decibel level that should be reserved for rock concerts and shuttle launches and works itself into a high-pitched scream that I'm convinced only dogs can hear, climbing like an F-16 until it reaches its pinnacle, at which point our screaming daughter either pauses to take a breath before beginning again, or simply passes out from the effort and falls into a deep slumber.

Here she has everything she needs--shelter, nourishment--and quite a few things that she wants--warmth, love, attention--and yet she will drive herself mad trying to get her way. It's painful to watch her act this way, and only partly because it's hard to deal with. No, what bothers me most as I watch my precious daughter whine and cry and flail in a desperate attempt to have things go her way is wondering how very much like her I must seem to my Creator.

How often have I, in a fit of selfishness, demanded that God do something, and do it now? My presumption, of course, is that I know what's best for me, and that the sovereign Lord needs to be reminded that I'm waiting for Him to act. Forgetting that He does, in fact, know the plans He has for me and that His ways are higher than my ways, I lay there kicking and screaming, demanding to be appeased. Never mind that He has given me the one thing I need most, the thing that is entirely out of my reach, in calling me to Himself and atoning for my sins. No, I want something more--more comfort, more stability, more blessing, more freedom, more of what the world says I need to be happy. His grace, I'm telling Him, are simply not enough.

And what about when I'm content? What about when I realize Christ is sufficient and respond with prayers of thanksgiving? I am reminded then that even my goodness separates me from God. For all of my "righteous deeds" are filthy rags to the God of Heaven. His is a standard I can't meet, a perfection I can't attain, a holiness I'll never draw near to. Only Christ can, and only by faith can I have a place in that kingdom.

So what hope is there for me, or for my daughter? She was born a sinner into a sinful world, to two sinful parents who will fail her countless times as she grows up. The outlook seems pretty gloomy. We'll do our best to provide for her--we'll feed her, we'll keep a roof over her head, we'll make sure her basic needs are met. But I'm realizing that the best thing--the only important thing, really--that we can do for her is point her to her need for a Savior. To help her understand that she, like all of us, has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. That her heart must be changed before she can be fit for heaven, and that it is God who does the changing. That there is nothing she can do to make God love her more or less than He already does. That His grace is sufficient. And I can stop kicking and screaming, and start living like I believe that.

What is thy only comfort in life and death?
"That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him."
-- Heidelberg Catechism, question 1

Off to see the Wizard...

Abby attended her first costume party on Saturday, a Little Monsters Bash thrown by her friend Annabelle's mom.

We had searched high and low for just the right costume and had ruled out the standard newborn ensembles upon realizing that our daughter would not tolerate the headpieces associated with being a pumpkin, a pea pod, a banana or a hot dog. Since it seems that most Halloween costumes don't come in her size anyway, we went so far as to entertain the idea of a pet costume, but alas, found nothing quite right for our baby girl. (And anyway, the idea of dressing her as a prisoner or a fire hydrant just seemed...well....wrong.)

So off I went to the local fabric store to perpetuate the myth that stay-at-home moms have plenty of free time. I came home armed with red glitter paint, blue gingham and some teeny tiny ric rac--our daughter was just a few stitches away from being the most adorable little Dorothy ever.

Not bad for my first costume-making endeavor, if I do say so myself. Abby seemed pleased with it. Well, at least she didn't seem annoyed with it. She didn't spit up on it, which at this point is probably as close as I'll get to "Thanks mom! What a great costume!"

Capital Reflection Pool.... right...

Last weekend Abby, Christina and I went down to the Capital again so that Daddy Abby could see the air and space museum. Much to my surprise, SpaceShipOne was on display at the entrance to the museum. This was no fake, no model, no mock-up, this was the real-deal. What a treat. My friend Jeremy would have loved it too. We also discovered that the so-called reflection pool in front of the Capital is completely dried up, complete with dead fish.

Why I love my job

It's been almost eight weeks since I started my new job as full-time mom to adorable little Abby, so it's probably time for an evaluation.

In spite of starting work at 5:48 on a Sunday morning, I'd have to say the job is going surprisingly well overall. We fell quickly into a regular routine of eating, playing and sleeping, and the boss seems to be pleased with the quality of my work so far. She seems to be especially pleased with my handling of food service and waste management.

Abby, from the moment we were first introduced, has proven to to be a pretty demanding boss as well as a poor communicator, often crying and flailing about when she wants something. I've explained to her that if she would simply tell me clearly and concisely what it is she needs (be it a diaper change, some milk, or a nap) I would be happy to meet her demands, as this is the primary reason she hired me. My requests are met with blank stares, cooing, or the occasional wail. But the longer we work together, the better I'm getting at discerning the root cause behind much of her actions and incoherent little noises, and I'm finding that the boss is very forthcoming with praise when I figure out what she wants and respond accordingly. Not only does she now smile on occasion when I do something that meets her approval, she is also kind enough to wait until I put a clean diaper on her before she finishes pooping, instead of filling her current dirty diaper so full as to make it unmanageable.

The hours at this new job leave much to be desired, as does the pay schedule. In fact, I've been at work since August 26 and have put in over 1100 hours so far, and have yet to receive any real compensation from the management. I've talked to some other moms and it seems that the terms of my employment with Abby are standard practice. No paycheck, long hours, late nights, no paid time off, no vacations, no sick days. The dress code is pretty relaxed and the uniform changes frequently depending on the time of day and the presence of spit up. To make up for some of the less positive aspects of the job, Abby does offer a wonderful benefits package that includes smiling, play time, joy like I've never felt before and love that I could have never imagined.

I've been a babysitter, a writer of obituaries, a grocery store cashier, a newsroom clerk, a copy editor and a church secretary, but nothing compares to motherhood. This is the hardest job I've ever had, but it is by far the most rewarding. I wouldn't trade one moment of this for all the money in the world, and I count myself very blessed to be able to care for my little girl full time. Our CEO, Abby's dad, works very hard to make that possible, and I'm so thankful for the ways he provides for his girls.

Gotta run...the boss is crying again, and I'm on the clock.

Happy Birthday Charlie!

Congratulations to my cousin Julia and Chancey on the birth of their little boy, Charlie.

Born at 7:54 on October 4
8 lb, 2 oz
22 inches long

Great job Julia!!

In real life, elephants aren't purple

Welcome to Abby's jungle, the best thing we've bought for our daughter (besides diapers). She loves this thing, and gets a huge kick out of whacking these animals with her little fists. And we get a huge kick out of watching her play...