Brandt

Enough about the wonder of HAVING children and a little more detail ABOUT them, you say? Introducing Brandt, our firstborn--and he won't let you forget it... Brandt turned nine in November--as though we needed a reminder that our days of grand and exclusive influence in his life are now on the wane rather than on the rise. Not that I expect the teenage years to be a nightmare--rather this past birthday has been a gentle reminder that we're halfway to raising an 18-year-old who could, in theory, support himself with a job, go to college, be drafted, or trot off to Europe with a backpack on his own dime! I am so thankful that our situation in life allows us to homeschool Brandt so that the next nine years with him are ones that we will see, enjoy, and respond to with our own eyes and ears.

Brandt entered the world with a piercing scream and an extreme sensitivity to all stimuli but has gradually learned to accommodate the rigors of the 21st century. He started out as an easily irritated toddler who nevertheless had an enormously accommodating heart for a (very) select group of friends, parents, and grandparents. He has retained the generous heart, remains fiercely loyal to that original group of friends & family, and has lost more than a little of the irritation. Nevertheless, he still likes to know The Master Plan at all times, which, in a family of six with a fighter pilot for a father, is more easily expected than delivered. By the grace of God, he will learn to trust Providence a little more. I have great faith for I am personally familiar with this strength which so easily turns into occasion to sin!

This year has seen a huge change in Brandt's heart. For years we were faithless and therefore hopeless in our observation of what seemed to us a coldness toward the things of God--even skepticism. That's right, I said "skepticism"--from a three-year-old. And then from a four-year old and a five-year old. But over the past three years, God has used His word, His discipline, and even our failures & confessions to continually soften our son's heart and to cause him to TRUST. This past year we noticed a sincere desire to repent of sin when he was confronted and a longing to know more of the things of God. Brandt started asking us about the Lord's Supper and about the blessings of being in the family of God. On the day he made his profession of faith at Covenant in Florida, you should have heard the booming voice with which he answered the Book of Church Order! And the excitement on his face when he first tasted the sacraments: you might have actually guessed it was spiritual food for our souls...

Brandt is constantly thinking of kindnesses he can deliver to anyone in his circle. His "acts of charity" fund is constantly sapped whereas his "spending" fund grows and grows while he considers the perfect use for it--PERFECTION being a major driver in our little boy's psyche. Nevertheless, he is growing much more patient with himself--and sweet and tender with his little brother Seth and his sister Eva. Brian and I have both observed him counseling his sister with God's word and holding her little hand gently when she is in the midst of some impetuous leap into sin. And although Brandt swore eternal enmity with our second born, Gresham, the week after he was born, he has now learned to value him as the greatest and best friend a boy could have. The two are inseparable and have sworn undying loyalty to each other I think, whether we're talking football, legos, street hockey, soccer, roller blades, drawing, paper airplanes, wrestling, or bedtime stories.

One of Brandt's favorites is anything--and I mean ANYTHING--to do with college football. Although we don't have a television, he and Gresham would spend every moment of their Autumn Saturday in front of the game tracker on our computer if, well, you know what Nazis we are with Media! Somehow that teeny little box of graphics-only plays on a computer screen has managed to teach him every intricacy of the game--a game which, despite the four males in our family, continues to elude me as to its rules or its meaning. Something to do with "on the fields of friendly strife" I think? Leave it to me to think of a poem when I ought to be thinking about goals--er, touchdowns?

That's Brandt, in a nutshell. I could go on for hours. I'm so humbled by the fact that a little man with great promise has been allowed into my lost little life. He brought us purpose toward God when we needed that kick in the pants. And now he is turning into a straight, strong arrow in our quiver.

A Funny Story

Last night my Bosch mixer literally stopped dead in the middle of blending some bean dip for dinner!!! Oh sad sad day--but even sadder little Seth! When it died, I looked down and put my hands around it and said "Oh.... It DIED!" And he, whose only experience with death happened 6 weeks ago when Troy died, looked at me in abject terror with chin quivering. I leaned down to hug him and tried to explain to him that the Bosch wasn't a REAL part of our family--only a small kitchen appliance--that everyone was okay and that we could replace the Bosch, etc. etc. etc. but he just started to sob and sob. Reality check for Cara. I still had what really mattered.

A short history of the above Bosch machine: my sister-in-law's mother, sweet woman whom I've known for years, bought it at a garage sale a long time ago. Its age has never been determined but I suppose that now might be the time to pull out my carbon dating equipment--if I actually believed in the concept of carbon dating! Nevertheless I know that this Bosch mixer lived a long and honorable life. It sat in Shauna's kitchen (sister-in-law) and then in a box in their garage for years before it ever came my way. Even if it had only served faithfully in our family for the six years we'd had it, it would have paid for itself a few times over. Never mind that: I forgot it was free. Even better! I'd always wondered how long it could last with the abusive food experiments I'd heaped upon it--barley bread being a very memorable one. This time I'm going to get the new and improved cookie beaters (been through several pairs of those)...

Book Meme

I have no idea what a "meme" is but I know that one of my best friends in the whole world tagged me to do it--so here goes...

I was tagged by Christina for this book meme. (It's kind of like an online game of tag. Someone posts questions and answers them, then "tags" the next person who is "it".) Here's what you're supposed to do.

1) Grab the book closest to you
2) Open to page 123, go down to the fourth sentence
3) Post the text of the following 3 sentences
4) Name the author and book title
5) Tag three people to do the same

"And there is nothing that is deformed with any natural or moral deformity; but everything is beauteous to behold, and amiable and excellent in itself... All the persons that belong to the blessed society of heaven are lovely. The Father of the family is lovely, and so are all his children; the head of the body is lovely, and so are all the members..."

This quote is from a book that I bought Brian for Christmas called "Heaven on Earth: Capturing Jonathan Edwards's Vision of Living In Between" by Stephen J. Nichols. Nichols is a professor at Lancaster Bible College and Grad School. In the book he explores the idea that Jonathan Edwards espoused that we ought not to be always looking ONLY to our eternal end (i.e. heaven) but we should, in this life, be considering how God's kingdom has come and is coming through Christ for the here and now. Anything that challenges us to think beyond the Wednesday-night-and-Sunday-morning-ministry mentality is always intriguing to me. As Brian so aptly put it last week (when I was in Phoenix helping Ginger and he was here in Oregon homeschooling all the children for the entire week) "If you didn't believe that your daily routine and responsibilities with the children were your spiritual act of worship, I can see how you'd really wonder about the whole point of your life."

I tag Shonda, Kristi, and Marie to do the next book meme; but I have no idea how to link their names to their blog; so if any of you savvy bloggers are reading this, please enlighten me soon!

Also a confession, "Heaven on Earth" was not the nearest book to me. The nearest one also happened to be "The Valley of Vision"--but since Christina already "memed" it (whatever that means), I thought I'd give you something new to contemplate. I'm so glad that Valley of Vision got a plug though, because next to the Bible, that book of prayers has been the single most instrumental tool that God has used in my life to draw me nearer to Him.

Oh, and P.S. I'm really trying to post some blogs of each of our children in the coming weeks. I didn't do a Christmas letter this year but the children have nevertheless grown and changed significantly.

Marveling

Over the past month as we've tumbled together emotions and events to contemplate both Troy's death and Christ's birth, I'm continually struck by two contrasting thoughts:

1. Grief and its threats always temper even our happiest moments and yet
2. Joy always cuts a rough valley through pain

The kids and Brian and I began memorizing Luke 2 long before we started eating turkey and, as with anything you do or see day after day, you begin to notice all sorts of minutia that previously escaped your notice. In a passage that we tend to associate with great news and great joy, there is also great fear and sorrow. The shepherds feared the angels. They didn't just "reverence" them in our postmodern way of dumbing down the word "fear." No, they were pee-in-their-pants AFRAID. Then Simeon turned around from his beautiful prayer of blessing the Savior and "blessed" Mary and Joseph with the news that a sword would pierce Mary's soul "that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." And then Jesus had the audacity to leave his parents for three days. Have you ever thought you'd lost your child for even 15 minutes? We have--TWICE--and both instances leave me panic-stricken in the remembering. It seems that after the "Glory to God in the highest and, on earth, peace, goodwill toward men" there's not much left but numb terror and disasters of the spirit--and Luke isn't even the one mentioning "Rachel weeping for her children" because every Jewish boy under the age of two was cut down.

Yet in the midst of their palpable fear and pain, Luke tells us that the shepherds were glorifying and praising God. He says that everyone who heard of Jesus' birth from the shepherds MARVELED. He tells us that Mary and Joseph MARVELED when Simeon blessed them. He tells us that the people who heard Jesus were ASTONISHED and that his parents were AMAZED when they heard their son speaking in the temple. Luke says twice that Mary "kept all these things and pondered them in her heart."

I'm not sure what to say about this past month. We are still hurting in the loss of Troy and in our compassion for Ginger and the kids. Troy's funeral was perhaps the hardest thing we've ever done--not only because we were dealing with death but because we were dealing with shock at the same time. We miss our friend and some days it seems that the memories will never fade enough to alleviate the pain. To be certain, Troy's death tempered all of the exquisite joy and warmth that belongs to Christians at Christmas; but I was most especially aware, in most coherent moments, of God's incredible ability to comfort. I watched Ginger go through a memorial service attended by 1800 people and a beautiful but remarkably public funeral with the utmost grace and courage. We moved through week after week marveling at the "realness" of God's presence and pondering much in our hearts. There was so much more joy in the turn of our daughter's curls, in Gresham's snaggletooth grin, in Seth's precocious looks ("you and I are in this joke together, Mom"), in Brandt's deadpan imitation of Luigi, in the glory of a new little Bergeron--Sophia Faith, in the fact that Brian was with us in person at Christmas. "Marvel" is the only word to describe the mix of thoughts that continually ran through our minds. There really are no guarantees in this life--except the one that brings more pure joy than any other ... "and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age. Amen." (Matthew 28:20)