Boas

I swear...if we get another feather boa, that means two things: (1) I will be doomed to pick up the shedding remnants of them for the rest of my life, and (2) the person who gifted them hates me.


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The Madie Mobile

We made a little car out of cardboard for Madie to take to Awana's for movie night.  We waited 'til the night before like any self-respecting student would.

Snowing Again?!?!

Saturday, I snapped some shots of the girls playing our newest round of white stuff.  There's also a couple from the office on Thursday.

Estrogen Free?

Well, not quite, but Rishelle and I did get to go on a date last night in celebration of Valentine's Day.  We had to eat fast in order to make our movie...it's a good thing the girls weren't there, because Macie undoubtedly would have been left. :)  The flick for the evening was "The Blind Side".  I'd been wanting to see it since it came out in November, but since Henlie came out in October, movie-going was probably playing seventy-third fiddle.  I imagine most folks are familiar with the plot and the plight of Michael Oher, but if you're not, let's just say that Michael was dealt a hand in life that -- well, if you're writing or reading a blog online -- you probably can't even begin to wrap your head around the magnitude of the pain he had endured and at such a tender age and, in many ways, a burden shouldered alone.  Can you honestly picture your own children in his shoes (albeit much larger ones) without your heart racing your head to see which one will pound out of your body first?

Given Michael's circumstances in life, it was hard not to well up with emotion in hurting for him.  And having worked alongside many student ministers, I know there are countless other children with stories that are disturbingly similar.  The coping mechanism of forgetting the past and keeping a guarded heart seems like the reasonable plan of action to me.  Survival.

And yet, this morning I was struck by a parallel to his narrative.  I'm sure I'm not the first, but I can't help think about two of scenes in the movie, scenes that played out in real life first:

After Michael has been staying with the Tuohys for a while, Leigh Ann finally just asked him if he wanted to live there.

Michael's response?

"I don't think I want to leave."

Leigh Ann's response?

She bought him a dresser and a bed.  His first bed.  Ever.  Ever!


That's where the spiritual comparison comes in.  It isn't about exalting some family who "saved" some misfortunate boy.  This isn't about playing in  the NFL or doing your best or whatever.  But what happens if you replace the two characters in the scene above and rearrange things a bit?

God had been wooing me for a while.  I was reluctant to bare all, but His affection was indeed genuine and his love was resolutely unconditional.  It wasn't about what I brought to the table or that He needed a "project", but He - in the deepest pit of eternity - saw me in my rawest state of need and could not look away and sought to move me into His house, into His family.  And in one pivotal moment, God essentially said:

"Do you want to live here"?

No strings attached.  This offer was unilateral, meaning it was all on God.  I didn't ask for it partly because I was stunned, held captivated by this "shock and awe" concussion of selflessness (Philippians 2 comes to mind.).  In the beginning of this process, I didn't even really understand the magnitude of my need, nor that the life He desired (and still desires) for me was not about surviving, but thriving.

And, because of the consistent demonstration of His faithfulness, I knew that my only response could be:

"I don't want to leave."

And that love has to be where, in real life, the Tuohys had a aching compassion well up inside them.  This kind of thing is infectious; it's not stagnant, it's always moving forward.  It was bigger than them, bigger than you or me, and the easiest way to manage it is to - rather than try and get a handle on it alone - let it squash the next person; to absolutely overwhelm them.  It's a compassion I really want my girls to throw around unashamedly.

For some reason, I'm picturing a giant water balloon at the moment...

But aside from that, I'm also picturing myself in Michael's shoes, struggling to understand why someone would take the loving initiative like God.  It is truly amazing.  And what's more is that it plays out on an even larger scale than a great movie.  It's the greater story of God so moved by love, and it's one that finds me among its cast of characters.

So Even dads relate after Superbowl losses

There's no denying that even a logically-thinking dad such as (I'd like to consider) myself fits right in a home full of emotional girls when his beloved Colts came up short last night. It's ironic how similar a non-athletic man masquearding vicariously as one can mope around the house like a toddler who can't play with their beloved toy: 20 yrs. from now it won't matter AT ALL. So I'll take my own fatherly medicine: "Why on earth are you crying???? It's not that big a deal!"

Okay, maybe I'll take it tomorrow anyways.


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Me and the Dogs

I think sometimes Amos, our beagle, looks at me with a funny expression that says, "What is with these girl creatures???" To which I respond by casting a glance that says, "You're asking me??? What do I know?!?!"


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