I've gained things from Kung Fu Panda 2 that I doubt anyone else ever shall. It teaches basic truths that deserve remembering:
The greatest thing that can be said of a parent is that they never failed to love their child.
One of the greatest sufferings a man can face is to lose his parents. One of the greatest sufferings parents can face is to lose their child. More worse is to know they did not love you.
When you receive great suffering, you must still go on. Whether the scar fades or not, who you chose to be is what really defines the joy or sadness of your life.
The laughter and cries of a child strike harshest blows against a parent who knows he may never hear his own child.
I've suffered many things in my life. Fears concerning my relationships, my occupation, my financial success, my home, my wedding, my marriage, my faith. But fear is nothing compared to knowledge. Fear is a flighty emotion that will come and go. Knowledge brings suffering, true scars.
My child has been diagnosed with ancelphaly. She never grew a brain in the womb, has a 50% chance of making it to birth, and will die within 2 hours of being born. We are scarred by this fact, but we will not lose faith. We will bring this child to term and spend those minutes with our daughter, if God wills it. I love my daughter, even though she is a little melon in my wife's womb. And on the day I meet her in heaven, I hope she can honestly say that I never failed to love her.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
One Day
Light streams lazily through the openings in window shade. Little motes of dust dance and twirl, seemingly unbound by the laws of gravity. They are free, truly free. Just as I am.
The batter smokes slightly as little bubbles rise to the surface. Far from traditional chef attire, I choose to cook in my ratty old T-shirt today. The clothe feels familiar against my body as I whistle some tune. I'm happy, so immeasurably happy. My chest feels light and my lips can't help but turn up into a smile. Praises to God form in my mind and are called out. "Thank you, Lord God, for all you have given me. For your Son, who died for me. For this day, where I feel so greatly blessed." The world seems to burst forth in a glorious display, even though I am in so common a place as my kitchen. The drawers seem a deep, earthy shade of brown. The tabletop's cream color makes me think of finest marble. The stainless steel silverware and ceramic plates, though they are nothing special, matter more to me than crystal goblets and gold platters. Not because they are mine. Because they are ours.
You walk into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes slightly. Your hair is a little disheveled and you have no makeup or fine attire. Then again, the pajamas and T-shirt fit you better than any crown and robe ever could. I catch your movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn around, spatula in hand, and give you a deep bow. "Fair morning, my queen." Your natural beauty dominates my mind. You respond, smirking slightly, "Your pancakes are burning." Even in the morning, you're a better eye for reality than me. Luckily, I save them before they become too charred.
I place them on a larger plate, one on top of the other, and set it in the middle of the table, with syrup and butter on the side. I serve you first, asking you how many you'd like, and using a fork to move them to your plate. I serve myself and we say grace. Every once in a while, I look up from my breakfast and stare into your beautiful face. Half the time, I see your bright eyes staring back, a look of serene contentment on your face. We talk a little about our plans for the day, but most of the meal is spend in silent adoration. We love each other more than words could say.
I dress smartly for my class. By this I mean, I put on jeans instead of my pajamas. You don't have work today, so you choose to wear yours for a while longer. "You'll come home early, remember? Tonight's our date night. We'll be making Indian food together and then a Bollywood flick." I smack my head. "Of course! I knew I asked for a sub today for a good reason. Thank you for reminding me, beloved." You peck me on the check and say, "You'd be a lost puppy without me, you know that?" I smile knowingly. I would, too. Before I go to leave, you take my arm and say, "Wait, the baby wants to say goodbye."
With tender care, I lift your shirt and place my head and hand against your belly. Within seconds, I feel a kick! Happiness flows through my body. This will never get old. Not if I felt it a thousand times. I hug you tightly around the waist and whisper, "I love you. I love you. I love you." You ask, "Are you talking to me or her?" "Her?", I respond, "I didn't know we figured out her sex." "We didn't. I'm just teasing with you, silly bean."
"Well, if she is a her, then I'm talking to the two most wonderful women in my whole life." And I mean it. Someday, Jessica, we can have this together. Just wait, and it'll be ours.
The batter smokes slightly as little bubbles rise to the surface. Far from traditional chef attire, I choose to cook in my ratty old T-shirt today. The clothe feels familiar against my body as I whistle some tune. I'm happy, so immeasurably happy. My chest feels light and my lips can't help but turn up into a smile. Praises to God form in my mind and are called out. "Thank you, Lord God, for all you have given me. For your Son, who died for me. For this day, where I feel so greatly blessed." The world seems to burst forth in a glorious display, even though I am in so common a place as my kitchen. The drawers seem a deep, earthy shade of brown. The tabletop's cream color makes me think of finest marble. The stainless steel silverware and ceramic plates, though they are nothing special, matter more to me than crystal goblets and gold platters. Not because they are mine. Because they are ours.
You walk into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes slightly. Your hair is a little disheveled and you have no makeup or fine attire. Then again, the pajamas and T-shirt fit you better than any crown and robe ever could. I catch your movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn around, spatula in hand, and give you a deep bow. "Fair morning, my queen." Your natural beauty dominates my mind. You respond, smirking slightly, "Your pancakes are burning." Even in the morning, you're a better eye for reality than me. Luckily, I save them before they become too charred.
I place them on a larger plate, one on top of the other, and set it in the middle of the table, with syrup and butter on the side. I serve you first, asking you how many you'd like, and using a fork to move them to your plate. I serve myself and we say grace. Every once in a while, I look up from my breakfast and stare into your beautiful face. Half the time, I see your bright eyes staring back, a look of serene contentment on your face. We talk a little about our plans for the day, but most of the meal is spend in silent adoration. We love each other more than words could say.
I dress smartly for my class. By this I mean, I put on jeans instead of my pajamas. You don't have work today, so you choose to wear yours for a while longer. "You'll come home early, remember? Tonight's our date night. We'll be making Indian food together and then a Bollywood flick." I smack my head. "Of course! I knew I asked for a sub today for a good reason. Thank you for reminding me, beloved." You peck me on the check and say, "You'd be a lost puppy without me, you know that?" I smile knowingly. I would, too. Before I go to leave, you take my arm and say, "Wait, the baby wants to say goodbye."
With tender care, I lift your shirt and place my head and hand against your belly. Within seconds, I feel a kick! Happiness flows through my body. This will never get old. Not if I felt it a thousand times. I hug you tightly around the waist and whisper, "I love you. I love you. I love you." You ask, "Are you talking to me or her?" "Her?", I respond, "I didn't know we figured out her sex." "We didn't. I'm just teasing with you, silly bean."
"Well, if she is a her, then I'm talking to the two most wonderful women in my whole life." And I mean it. Someday, Jessica, we can have this together. Just wait, and it'll be ours.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Savior
Lightning streaks across the black, stormy skies, swiftly followed by a thunderous roar. The world illuminates for a brief moment, only to plunge back into darkness, indeed, worse darkness than before. Light only shows the shadows that surround and pervade the landscape this night. It shimmers off the cruel rain and hail that pelt me as I lie there shivering, weak, and helpless.
I don't know why I ran away. Actually, I never ran, I console myself. I just stayed while my brothers and sisters moved on. I delighted in the grass that surrounded me, the gorgeous sunset amplified by the grand puffy clouds. I was entranced in the beauty of my world. Had I not right to be so immersed in God's glory? I had no idea I would be out here, cold and alone. I walked about, sure of myself, trotted and pranced even. But the night drew on and the cold rain fell. I panicked and ran. Worse, I ran off a cliff and fell, spraining my ankle. I found myself on a ledge over an even deeper canyon; the only solace I have that God is watching me. If I fell the whole way, I would surely not be here now, cold and alone. But that solace does not bring me peace now. I huddle in a small ball, trying to fight against the elements, but without much success.
A sound! Scrabbling of rocks and the brush-brush of feet through grass. No, paws, surely they are paws moving above me. Oh, how my mother would tell me stories of the predatory creatures which roam here: the sly wolves and coyotes, the mighty bears and lions. Am I to see these fairy tales come to life? With teeth and claws they come, hungering for my meat, desiring to rend me and tear me, to make me nought. I am lost! Lost I say!
Lightning shoots across the horizen, and I search around frantically, wishing to see my hunter, yet also hoping no one hunts me. A movement! A flash of muscle and hair, coming over the cliff, coming towards me. Doomed! Doomed am I! How foolish I was, and my folly will find its end in this dark night. I cry out, summoning the tiny strength I have left, barely enough to scramble my limbs in a clumsy hurry-flurry. I am touched! A claw has found home, surely! A maw, grim and fierce grasps my hind legs and holds me against my will. Surely, this is the end.
But lo, a voice speaks behind me. "Little lamb, my child, my loved, soothe your fears. Hush hush hush, I am here, your shepherd, the one who raised you through weal and woe, though health and disease, green pasture and dry scrub." At once my soul sings in relief. My master! My lord! I bleat and baa, in tired rejoicing. My hooves cease their scurrying as his hands wrap around me. He hangs me over his shoulder and carries me up off my ledge, up to freedom and open plains again, away from the deep pit below. The rain still batters against my soaked and soggy fleece, but I feel it hardly at all. I am back again with my shepherd, my guide, my only hope in this dark time. I am his lamb and he my master. May I never leave him nor forsake him as long as I shall live.
I don't know why I ran away. Actually, I never ran, I console myself. I just stayed while my brothers and sisters moved on. I delighted in the grass that surrounded me, the gorgeous sunset amplified by the grand puffy clouds. I was entranced in the beauty of my world. Had I not right to be so immersed in God's glory? I had no idea I would be out here, cold and alone. I walked about, sure of myself, trotted and pranced even. But the night drew on and the cold rain fell. I panicked and ran. Worse, I ran off a cliff and fell, spraining my ankle. I found myself on a ledge over an even deeper canyon; the only solace I have that God is watching me. If I fell the whole way, I would surely not be here now, cold and alone. But that solace does not bring me peace now. I huddle in a small ball, trying to fight against the elements, but without much success.
A sound! Scrabbling of rocks and the brush-brush of feet through grass. No, paws, surely they are paws moving above me. Oh, how my mother would tell me stories of the predatory creatures which roam here: the sly wolves and coyotes, the mighty bears and lions. Am I to see these fairy tales come to life? With teeth and claws they come, hungering for my meat, desiring to rend me and tear me, to make me nought. I am lost! Lost I say!
Lightning shoots across the horizen, and I search around frantically, wishing to see my hunter, yet also hoping no one hunts me. A movement! A flash of muscle and hair, coming over the cliff, coming towards me. Doomed! Doomed am I! How foolish I was, and my folly will find its end in this dark night. I cry out, summoning the tiny strength I have left, barely enough to scramble my limbs in a clumsy hurry-flurry. I am touched! A claw has found home, surely! A maw, grim and fierce grasps my hind legs and holds me against my will. Surely, this is the end.
But lo, a voice speaks behind me. "Little lamb, my child, my loved, soothe your fears. Hush hush hush, I am here, your shepherd, the one who raised you through weal and woe, though health and disease, green pasture and dry scrub." At once my soul sings in relief. My master! My lord! I bleat and baa, in tired rejoicing. My hooves cease their scurrying as his hands wrap around me. He hangs me over his shoulder and carries me up off my ledge, up to freedom and open plains again, away from the deep pit below. The rain still batters against my soaked and soggy fleece, but I feel it hardly at all. I am back again with my shepherd, my guide, my only hope in this dark time. I am his lamb and he my master. May I never leave him nor forsake him as long as I shall live.
Monday, March 2, 2009
This I Offer To You
My Jessica, you told me that stories are the way to your heart. I knew this, even before you said it. To be completely honest with you, the day I asked you for romantic pictures you liked, I was looking for pictures to use as the main header for this blog. This is a gift to you, out of the depths of my heart. From time to time, I will put up stories that come to my mind. Not all of them will be about us, but they will all be stories that flow from my heart, and all gifts to please you and interest you. Enjoy, my heart. I wish you well, during our time apart.
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