Happy Birthday Asa!

We put Asa's highchair in the attic this weekend.  The mornings of wheeling my little guy over to the counter for breakfast have passed and now it's his birthday.  Proof that he's not my baby, but he is two. 
 Two means he can climb up onto the barstool without needing "Asa's stool" anymore.  He can find his way outside by himself and gets lost in the joy of sifting in the dirt.  And in his mind, two means he no longer needs to drink from a sippy cup.

We celebrated Asa with plenty of "rawrs", trucks, and a dinosaur cake. His excitement reached a level so high I must say it had to have been the best day of his life. 

Screeches of "ruck!" and even more "rawrs" came out of the mouth of my little boy who usually refuses to speak. He forgot himself and literally jumped up and around.


I love the excitement of two.
I love my Buddy Boo.
Happy Birthday Asa!

Thoughts on Boston

I used to be a runner. Two times I crossed the finish line of the Chicago Marathon. Both times I ran slow.  Slower than the 4:09:44 time shown on the finish line clock of the Boston Marathon that I keep seeing over and over in the news pictures.  The finishing time of around 4 hours means the elite winners had long ago crossed that line and were likely relaxing in hotel rooms relishing in their victories. Runners crossing the line at four hours of the Boston Marathon were not the professional athletes, but the moms, office workers, programmers, the average person who was completing an extraordinary accomplishment.  To run Boston is a dream, an aspiration, a category of elite to admire.

So when I watch the videos of the horrible events of yesterday I see very ordinary runners who were fulfilling their dreams and as the running cliche goes, it was the victory lap to all of the grueling training they had completed.  Not only were the runners fulfilling their dreams, but their families and supporters were completing their part.  They also sacrificed to help their runner loved ones live out their goals.

Something so aspirational turned absolutely tragic.

At this point of not knowing who or why or maybe even what I just feel anger.  Anger and a bit of defiance. 

Do you feel like me sometimes in a big crowd?  When I go to a big mall, stadium, or really any event where a large number of people are gathered I now fight back the thoughts of terror attacks, bombs, and crazed shooters.  These fears are exactly the ones the perpetrators want us to be filled with.  I imagine a big agenda item for a terrorist is to create terror. To create a sense of uncertainty and cause people to live with a spirit of underlying fear and maybe even to make that fear so overwhelming that people change their behavior - stop attending concerts, stop pursuing an education, stop gathering together, stop crossing finish lines in essence to stop life and hunker down at home.

The organizer of the Boston Marathon was interviewed on the news last night.  The words of his interview stick with me and remind me today that we must continue to pursue life if not simply to defy those who attempt to make us change our lives because of fear.

The interviewer asked if the Boston Marathon would be run again next year and the director described how the marathon has now run for 117 years.  This has taken the race through 2 World Wars, through the years immediately after 9/11.  While not being oblivious to the changes of the world, this race symbolizes life and pursuit of dreams that continue even in the middle of tragedy.

Will the Boston Marathon be run again next year the interviewer asked?  Fred Treseler responded, "I am quite sure there will be a Boston Marathon next year. But for certain the Boston Marathon has been changed forever."

Changed forever?
Yes.

Changed towards a spirit of determination to pursue dreams in spite of even more opposition.
Changed to defy those who attempt to take away life.
Changed to prove evil can not win and Good will be what crosses the finish line as the winner.




 

Gawk!

"Gawk!" "Gawk!"
My little baby (ok he's not a baby, he's almost two!) sounds like a squawking bird whenever I pull the car into a parking lot.  In his limited vocabulary, Asa wants me to know he does NOT want to be carried, but wants to walk.

Walk in the parking lot, walk in Target, walk Amelie in to preschool.

The boy who was the slowest to walk can't get enough of walking now.

And so life has slowed waaaay down.  When I have my companion along we don't rush in and out of a store.  Appropriately, we "gawk."

Gawk in the dollar section of Target.
Gawk at the Elmo cards when picking out a card.
Gawk at the snacks spilled onto the ground (and then grab them and eat before mommy can pick them up - ewww).
Gawk in the woods.

Over spring break we visited dear friends in Tennessee.  They led us on a couple of beautiful hikes and proved patience with our family as Asa insisted on gawking for as much of the hike as possible.  We did notice more leaves, bugs, interesting trees, and birds but we also took quite a bit longer to complete the hike than ever before.

Life slowed down is rare for me.  I like to conquer the world as quick as possible - whether shopping or hiking, I'm a let's get it done kind of girl.

Occasionally God sends something into my life to slow me down for a season.  Accepting the slowness drives me crazy at first and then I notice more, enjoy more, even feel more.  I'm working to accept this slowing down as God's message to me that life needs to more savouring.

Thanks to Asa's insistence that we gawk.