Poor little David…. We’d only been at the Jersey shore for a day or two when we realized that he wasn’t feeling well. A trip to a local pediatrician confirmed our fears: he’d somehow picked up both an ear infection and pink eye. Although there wasn’t a Meijer (with its free antibiotics for kids!) within several hundred miles, at least there was a local Wal-Mart where we could get them for $4. Almost as importantly, I guess it’s a good thing Aunt Becca got him these cool sunglasses!
Almost twenty years ago, an artist named Michael McLean wrote a beautiful song called From God’s Arms to My Arms to Yours. The song is sung from the perspective of a birthmother preparing to place her little boy with his Eternal family. The song has always made Daddy cry, every single time, but now it’s even more poignant. Each time he hears it, he has in his mind’s eye our own little girl’s birthmother, with that beautiful voice of hers singing this incomparable song to us, the parents of the child she bore.
So anyway, this morning, little Leah was out in the driveway with her cousins Caleb and Sam, running around and playing. She was wearing a dress (which was our first mistake), so when she fell down, there was damage. Both knees were skinned and the tears came freely. As Daddy picked her up, immediately to his mind came a line from the bridge of the aforementioned song: “Now I know you don’t have to do this, but could you kiss him once for me / The first time that he ties his shoes or falls and skins his knee?” (Seriously, even just typing this, Daddy’s sobbing uncontrollably.)
So now, here it was: “the first time that [s]he … f[e]ll and skin[ned] her knee.” As Daddy held his daughter close, he gave her not two but three kisses through the tears: one from himself, one from Danny, and one from Auntie Kellie. It’s really the very least he could do for these wonderful angels, the people that gave us our little Leah. And as Michael states is the intent of the song, we hope and pray that Leah always knows—even across the miles—how much her birthparents really do love her.
Finally, as for us—we that have been entrusted with her care—we can only pray for the ability to “give this baby both [her] mothers’ love”—and both her fathers’, as well.
(Oh, the by the way…. If you check the Photos page, you’ll see that once we added Band-Aids to the boo-boos, Leah was good as new!) ☺
Well, it’s official: David has eaten a little bit of solid food! Granted, his oatmeal didn’t go down that well: unaccustomed to such an intrusion into his little system, he gleefully spit out a lot of it. Still, for a first effort, he did a great job!
Well, it’s official: David has eaten a little bit of solid food! Granted, his oatmeal didn’t go down that well: unaccustomed to such an intrusion into his little system, he gleefully spit out a lot of it. Still, for a first effort, he did a great job!
This rather long entry is copied from Daddy’s personal journal.
First of all, a moment of silence for my beloved grandfather, “Cort” Drake, who passed away twelve years ago today.
Now… you’re probably wondering what the heck I’m doing up at 2:30 in the morning, writing in my journal. Well, my daughter just taught me a very important lesson, and I wanted to record it for always:
A little while ago, Leah woke up and was calling for me, as she generally does when she wakes up: Daaaa-ddy! Daaaa-ddy! Daaaa-ddy! (She’s so freaking cute!) Anyway, I went into her room to find her standing there (as usual). What I usually do, in such a situation, is part the curtains, part the blinds, and show her that it’s dark outside, encouraging her by saying something to the effect of “See? It’s dark outside. Sleepy time.” This time, however, it didn’t work: “Drink,” she told me (although it’s actually just “kə,” but we know what it means. We have started trying to get her to say the full word, though, and she is learning).
Now, everybody knows that when a child wants to stay up a little later, they stereotypically ask for a drink, so I picked her up, kissed her, rocked her a little, and tucked her back into bed. As per usual, I told her, “I love you. Get some sleep. See you in the morning” on my way out, but as I closed the door, she was immediately standing up and crying. It occurred to me that I, myself, had been very thirsty before bed—Mommy, Leah, and I had shared a black cherry shake at Steak ’n’ Shake, the sugar content of which may account for this—but I dismissed the thought, went back into her room, repeated the routine, and all seemed well. Still, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, Leah really was just thirsty, just as I had been before downing a couple of glasses of water, right before bed. I went downstairs, washed a sippy cup, filled it about halfway with fresh water, and brought it back up with me, placing it on the ledge for easy access. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I was about to get back into bed when I heard her crying again.
Now, at this point, I had set myself up for what I obviously needed to do. I picked up the sippy, opened her door, and walked around to the side of her crib. I handed her the drink, which she immediately grabbed and started sucking it down. I leaned over, both forearms on the side of the crib, and apologized to her: “I’m so sorry, Sweetie. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a drink, the first time.”
The look on her face was not to be forgotten. It’s amazing to see a look of shocked comprehension and compassion on the face of a 19-month-old, but that’s exactly what it was. It’s not like I’ve never apologized to Leah before—I do, whenever the situation warrants—but this time, there was an understanding in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. She lowered her sippy, walked across the crib to where I was leaning, and planted a kiss right on my lips. With the pure innocence only a little child can muster, my daughter had immediately and completely forgiven me.
So wherein lies the lesson? Well, we hear the words of Christ many, many times: “[Y]e must … become as a little child, or ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God” (3 Nephi 11:38). While most people have at least a logical understanding of what that means, it takes on a new intensity of understanding when you see a little child, in all her innocence, express pure love and forgiveness toward an errant, imperfect parent. My sweet, little Leah is growing up, and she’s teaching me, every step of the way.
This rather long entry is copied from Daddy’s personal journal.
First of all, a moment of silence for my beloved grandfather, “Cort” Drake, who passed away twelve years ago today.
Now… you’re probably wondering what the heck I’m doing up at 2:30 in the morning, writing in my journal. Well, my daughter just taught me a very important lesson, and I wanted to record it for always:
A little while ago, Leah woke up and was calling for me, as she generally does when she wakes up: Daaaa-ddy! Daaaa-ddy! Daaaa-ddy! (She’s so freaking cute!) Anyway, I went into her room to find her standing there (as usual). What I usually do, in such a situation, is part the curtains, part the blinds, and show her that it’s dark outside, encouraging her by saying something to the effect of “See? It’s dark outside. Sleepy time.” This time, however, it didn’t work: “Drink,” she told me (although it’s actually just “kə,” but we know what it means. We have started trying to get her to say the full word, though, and she is learning).
Now, everybody knows that when a child wants to stay up a little later, they stereotypically ask for a drink, so I picked her up, kissed her, rocked her a little, and tucked her back into bed. As per usual, I told her, “I love you. Get some sleep. See you in the morning” on my way out, but as I closed the door, she was immediately standing up and crying. It occurred to me that I, myself, had been very thirsty before bed—Mommy, Leah, and I had shared a black cherry shake at Steak ’n’ Shake, the sugar content of which may account for this—but I dismissed the thought, went back into her room, repeated the routine, and all seemed well. Still, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, Leah really was just thirsty, just as I had been before downing a couple of glasses of water, right before bed. I went downstairs, washed a sippy cup, filled it about halfway with fresh water, and brought it back up with me, placing it on the ledge for easy access. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I was about to get back into bed when I heard her crying again.
Now, at this point, I had set myself up for what I obviously needed to do. I picked up the sippy, opened her door, and walked around to the side of her crib. I handed her the drink, which she immediately grabbed and started sucking it down. I leaned over, both forearms on the side of the crib, and apologized to her: “I’m so sorry, Sweetie. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a drink, the first time.”
The look on her face was not to be forgotten. It’s amazing to see a look of shocked comprehension and compassion on the face of a 19-month-old, but that’s exactly what it was. It’s not like I’ve never apologized to Leah before—I do, whenever the situation warrants—but this time, there was an understanding in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. She lowered her sippy, walked across the crib to where I was leaning, and planted a kiss right on my lips. With the pure innocence only a little child can muster, my daughter had immediately and completely forgiven me.
So wherein lies the lesson? Well, we hear the words of Christ many, many times: “[Y]e must … become as a little child, or ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God” (3 Nephi 11:38). While most people have at least a logical understanding of what that means, it takes on a new intensity of understanding when you see a little child, in all her innocence, express pure love and forgiveness toward an errant, imperfect parent. My sweet, little Leah is growing up, and she’s teaching me, every step of the way.
Okay, never mind the weeds in the front yard; that happens when a home’s been empty for a couple of months. What you’re seeing here is one of the first shots of our new home in Lafayette! To be frank, we were actually planning on getting a different house—a new build, one block over from this one. However, Heavenly Father has different plans for us, and even though we’d already put down our earnest money and signed a contract to hold that one, He made Himself very clear that this—a two-year-old, nearly identical floor plan that’s missing a few of the nicer upgrades but has extra storage, a fifth bedroom, and a $20,000 lower price tag(!)—is definitely the one we should buy. Our offer has been accepted, we expect to close in the next couple of weeks, and we plan to make the big move back to Lafayette, on July 28th.
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