Wordless Wednesday

Ring that new year

Our latest science project involves a well-sealed cage of stinging red harvester ants in the school room.  They rush around building tunnels in the dirt and hoarding up crumbs of food.


I've repeatedly warned my own children, as well as every adult and child who has slept over on our school room futon, not to bump the ant cage, lest they escape and bite us all.  Caleb in particular has had *multiple* admonishments to stay back.  They will bite you and it will hurt!  Don't touch!


After weeks of self-control from guest and resident children, guess who knocked over the ant cage?


{Hint:  Jason's dad said this person would have been his 5th guess.}


Mercifully, I was wearing long pants and shoes at the time of this unfortunate incident.  Much screaming and yelling and frantic lethal stomping occurred.  Brave Jeddy--who was not wearing long pants or shoes--ran in to help.


At the end of the incident, Jeddy had sustained a bite on his knee and our ant population was reduced by half--but the surviving ants were safely resealed and my new Apple watch registered 2 minutes of physical exercise, as measured by elevated heart rate.


Caleb was quite upset with me.  He tearfully told me, "That wasn't a good idea."


He also crawled trembling into my arms and whimpered, "If you do that again I'll spank you."

It happened something like this, but not quite.

Making thank-you cards

After this we gathered, shaken but safe, around the table.  Halfway through lunch, Caleb noticed a dead fly floating in the milk jug that everyone was drinking from.


!!!


More yelling and running ensued.  The milk was dumped, Caleb was praised, and the lid of the new milk jug came off only for merest seconds before being emphatically replaced.

Such ended our 2015:  a banner year.


In January last year our house was only half-built, and we observed our first annual Halfway Day.


I spent last February toilet shopping and making endless trips to Lowe's.


In March we started packing to move.


Jeddy began his Little League career in April, and we moved.


In May I was diagnosed with Lyme disease and started daily hospital treatments.


In June I regained the ability to walk and we went to the beach.


We started a new school year in August:  5th grade, 2nd grade, pre-K and preschool.


In October I completed a 31-day blogging challenge.

May your New Year bring robust health, joyous family time, and a distinct lack of disease-carrying, biting little critters.

Christmas 2015

My present matches my sweater!

Caleb received 57 new vehicles.

What really happened is that Santa's sleigh crash-landed through our house and spilled all its contents.  After the reindeer thrashed around in the fallout for a while and Santa offloaded his year's supply of candy for his entire elf staff into our kitchen, he took off with a sinister "ho, ho, ho."

Waiting for shalom

Shalom, noun:  Completeness, soundness, welfare, peace.

- Strong's Concordance

It's that elusive season when we sing about peace on earth, goodwill to men; yet our loved ones still get on our nerves, and something spills in a most inconvenient spot, and the toilet starts acting funny, and the holiday goodies don't agree with our stomach.

I finally called the doctor about Caleb's nighttime screaming.  I've heard small children crying and screaming before, but this was screaming.  Blood-curdling, alarming, terror-stricken screaming; not normal.  After hearing my concerns, the doctor said it sounded like night terrors.  

Night terrors are not to be confused with nightmares.  Nightmares happen during REM sleep, often wake the sufferer completely, and are usually distinctly memorable.  Night terrors happen during the transition from stage 3 to stage 4 non-REM sleep.  The sufferer seems to be awake but isn't actually, and typically has no memory of the experience in the morning.  

{The parents and siblings of the sufferer are typically traumatized and haggard in the morning, retaining a very distinct memory of the experience.}

Anyhoo, the doctor directed us to give Caleb Benadryl right before bed every night for a week.  The idea is to sedate him so he reaches deep sleep quickly and seamlessly, bypassing the transition stage that was tripping him up.  Presumably a week would be enough to reset his rhythm so his body would know how to sleep without freaking out.

Well, the Benadryl worked a miracle 7 nights in a row.  The silence it produced was very addictive for me.  

Tonight is the second night attempting to sleep drug-free; last night he didn't sleep well--but he didn't scream.  This was your run-of-the-mill crying.  He woke up today with a runny, stuffy nose, and you can hardly blame a child for crying at night when he can't breathe.  Hopefully we'll get some sleep tonight.  So far I've heard only repetitive singing of "The Little Drummer Boy" from his room.

Rum-pa-pa-pum, rum-pa-pa-pum, rum-pa-pa-pum.....

And still we sing about a silent night, when all was calm, and about the infant Word of God pleading silently for sinners.  

Our house isn't silent.  We have crying, and screaming, and aggrieved siblings, and frustrated parents, and snappish words. 

Nearly a year ago we had Ada checked out for a lump above her eye.  In recent months the one lump has turned into many lumps across one side of her forehead.  Instead of sending us to repeat the unpleasant experience at the eye doctor, the pediatrician sent us to..... a plastic surgeon.  

This is my eight-year-old daughter.  

The plastic surgeon is here in town.  He gave us a diagnosis that he's "80% sure" about--that they are benign cysts with no needed treatment--but since he 20% has no idea what they are, he's sending us to an even specialer specialist: a pediatric craniofacial plastic surgeon.  This one is 2 hours away--twice as far as the eye specialist and every other specialist we've seen for big scary stuff.  

And yet we sing that we need not fear, that nothing shall us affright, about angels telling us to "fear not."

The Incarnation introduced us to our Savior.  This Baby is the One who will make all things right.  He will not only end but reverse the curse.  He will completely remake all the brokenness that makes tummies hurt and toilets not work and children cry and unidentified lumps grow.  

Hebrew speakers have a better word than our typical translation, "peace."  Shalom is more than mere peace.  It is restoration.  It is wholeness.  It is everything made right.  It is what our souls long for.

The manger brought us closer than we'd ever been to shalom, but the newborn Christ was only the face of the promise.  The promise was accomplished 33 years later at an empty tomb near a Roman cross.

It is accomplished, yet our hearts are still crying out for shalom.  This is why it still takes faith to sing the glory of this sleeping newborn.  The nativity was the dawn of redeeming grace, not the accomplishment of it.  The cross is our sure hope, but not redemption fully realized.  It's already done, but not yet.  We're still at the dawn, waiting eagerly for the Sunrise.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

School's out, and sleeping too

We finished school last week for Christmas break.

The weather's been unseasonably warm, so we've had some park time.

I needed to do a bunch of baking, so I used my preschoolers as child labor on the last day of school.  Measuring + counting = math lesson.

We've all been sleep deprived since Caleb's brain apparently learned how to create nightmares.  He screams at all hours of the night, plus naptime, and then either acts out of control or like a zombie during the day, as below:

This is a phase.  This is a phase.  This is a phase.

John Milton, tell us what Christmas is all about

Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?

-Charlie Brown

Linus starts his explanation with shepherds keeping watch by night, but John Milton starts a bit further back--with God's creation of a pristine world populated by two beloved and perfect human beings.  These two infamously defied the command of God, ate the forbidden fruit, and thereby plunged the world into sin and suffering. 

God had warned that the fruit carried the penalty of death.  Thus, as imagined in Milton's Paradise Lost, God declares of man:

Die he or justice must; unless for him

Some other able, and as willing, pay

The rigid satisfaction, death for death.

Say, heavenly Powers, where shall we find such love?

Which of you will be mortal, to redeem

Man's mortal crime, and just the unjust to save?

Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?

Man committed the capital crime; someone must die.  It will be man, unless someone innocent volunteers to take the guilty's place.  Any takers?

And silence was in Heaven: on man's behalf

He asked, but all the heavenly quire stood mute,

Patron or intercessor none appeared, 

Much less that durst upon his own head draw

The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.

And now without redemption all mankind

Must have been lost, adjudged to Death and Hell

By doom severe

Silence in heaven.  The doom severe shall fall on guilty man.  The angels stand in silence at God's justice.  Man has rejected God's rule, and is now sealed under His righteous judgement. 

All is lost.

But now!  Up stands Jesus, God the Son; eternally beloved and one with the Father, Lord of angels, King of heaven and earth, perfectly untarnished and holy.  And He says:

Behold me then: me for him, life for life

I offer: on me let thine anger fall;

Account me Man; I for his sake will leave

Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee

Freely put off, and for him lastly die

Well pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage.

This, then, is what Christmas is all about.  This is why the angels sang to those shepherds.

And the angels filled the sky

All of heaven wondered why

Why their King would choose to be

Be a baby born to die

-Bebo Norman, Born to Die

We had lost everything:  paradise, happiness, friendship with God and each other, safety, beauty, hope.  Until one volunteered for us.  One who had paradise, who was willing to exchange paradise for frailty and cold and loneliness, who came to offer Himself in the guilty's place.  

Tidings of joy, indeed.  Hallelujah! what a Savior.

Then like a hero who takes the stage when

We're on the edge of our seats saying, "It's too late"

Well let me introduce you to grace, grace

God's grace

-Mercy Me, Flawless

Wordless Wednesday