Reflections: Children...

Today's post is prompted by Corrin's new list of Reflections.

Children: Who is the most important child in your life and what have you learned from them? If you have your own children, is it everything you thought it would be? What do you want to teach them in 2011?

Unless you happened to stumble onto this blog out of "the cloud", you knowthat 2010 brought about the birth of our son, Jude. So the obvious answer to the first part ofthis question is that our son is now the most important child in our life.Laura and I are still processing those things that we are learning from him and parenthood in general. When I first saw him, and sometimes even now, I am absolutely amazed that in some sense, we made this person (though we confess that it was the Lord who knit him in the womb).

Several people have told me that the first thing they did was to count the fingers and toes of their children (some say by instinct). This is not the first thing I did. In fact, I don't recall a time where I began numbering my child's appendages. For me, the first thing that happened was a flood of emotion and the overwhelming reality that my wife and I were now parents. I try to say this without sounding superficially religious... but there was a real sense of the presence of God during that time. More specifically, I felt that I knew his fatherliness in a way that I had not before.

In October 2009, we lost our first baby due to miscarriage. She was only 9 weeks along, but it was a really difficult thing for us. I say "she," as testing after Laura's operation proved that the baby probably had what is called, "Turner's Syndrome."

That was a time where Laura and I cried a lot together.

There were complications with this pregnancy too. I remember driving to the hospital with Laura for one of her regular check-ups. I remember not wanting to pray - not wanting to be let down by a God who I felt did not listen very often. I remember thinking "Please...please...please," while also believing that once the ultrasound was performed, we would see another lifeless fetus.

I remember that our sadness was thick.
Much of our ride to Pennsylvania hospital was in silence.

In waiting room of the lab where they do the first trimester ultrasounds, we sat. We were given a room and we waited.

The technician came in and pressed the cold machine to my wife's belly. At first, nothing. Then, a flutter. Then... the familiar sound of a heartbeat and the mentioning of, "looks like you have a healthy baby."

I am learning, through this experience and the birth of my son just how completely fickle my faith can be. Jude's birth did not affirm that, "If you pray, God will listen and answer." While I think prayer has been better for me, I think it is still something I am working through.

No, Jude's birth gave me a glimpse (I think) into the heart of God. I loved my son in a way much different than I love my wife and it affected me in a great way to think that there is a fatherly love for me from the Lord as well. At the time, I was also working through a class in Reformation Church History. One thing continually sticks out to me from the writings of Martin Luther (and this is a summary) in that God takes that which is unlovable and makes it lovable. There is (as my professor said) no good analogy that we can make that compares our own love with our understanding of God's love for his people.

It hit me squarely that I love Jude because he is very lovable. He came out with a full head of hair, a generally wonderful disposition and a smile that is indescribable. When I hear him cry, I want to go to him because he is lovable.

I, on the other hand, am not lovable. My heart is laid bear before the one by whom all things are made, and yet he still comes to me when I cry out to him.

He has made that which is unlovable lovable.

I don't say this lightly... Jude reminded me that God does love his people... that perhaps there is even love for me. He is teaching me that the patience of a father is not even a shadow of the depth of the patience of my Father. These are difficult lessons; while I know my dad loved me I also grew up under circumstances that were not often ideal. Our home was tumultuous and there was not (and even now, even almost six years after his death) a lot of love that came out of the place I was raised (this, perhaps is a topic for another time - and don't get me wrong, my mother is a very loving woman). All to say, Laura and I want Jude to grow up in a home where there is real forgiveness.

We want a home of openness without holding grudges or of judgment behind smiles.
We want a home of graciousness rather than argumentation and bitterness behind yelling matches.
We want a home where life, peace and completion overcomes the curse of death.
We want a home where Jesus is central... where He is more... where we are less.

And we are still learning how to make it there.