My little brother, Elliott, was supposed to come be with us on mommy's birthday, April 29th. But he couldn't wait that long. He came four weeks early, but I think he didn't realize that his lungs were not ready so he had to stay in the hospital for a week. But now he is home, and boy has everything changed.
I no longer have mommy and daddy's undivided attention. They seem to want to spend time with Elliott that they used to spend with me, especially mommy. I have decided to respond by randomly shrieking loudly as well as being reticent to do anything they ask of me that is not something I particularly want to do. I hope things get back to normal soon.
Elliott won't even play with me. He just sleeps and eats. I don't understand why they even want to spend so much time with him. I was so excited for nine months for Elliott to come out and play with me. What a letdown. Mommy and daddy keep telling me that I am going to have to teach him all I know. Well I'm trying and I guess I will continue to do so. But he sure isn't very coachable.
But I am very thankful God has given me a little brother. It is nearing my bedtime. Time to get really upset and try to get mommy to read me fifteen books. :)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Sunday, February 7, 2010
year and a half
I'm 18 months old tomorrow. At what point does my age begin being counted in years? I guess when mama and dada begin to say it that way.
You may be wondering how many words I know at this point. Well, hundreds. But the problem is my family seems to be a lot less intelligent than I thought they were! It is so frustrating for them to not be able to understand me when I am trying to communicate with them. I guess I am going to have to speak a lot more slowly and conform to their limited vocabulary. I have already compromised on their names (mama, dada, nana, CC, etc). I like to say "all better" when they wipe my nose or change my diaper because I think it is cute that they say it. I have to put my palms in the air and say "ished" in order for them to grasp that I am not hungry anymore. I figured that would translate considering they ask me if I'm finished an average of 50 times a meal.
I am also fighting back in the kissing category. I have received no fewer than 1 billion kisses in 18 months. Therefore, you cannot tell me good-bye without receiving at least 3 open mouth kisses. I'm not putting up with it anymore. Nobody should have to put up with so many kisses so my goal is to prove that by showing you what it is like.
But I feel like I need to try to make a few amends (this does not mean I will discontinue doing these things, I just feel the need to divulge that I am aware I do them). I know that it is not ideal that I like to take everything out of the kitchen cabinets and leave them in the kitchen floor. I am sorry that I have figured out how to get up on your bed. God has given me the ability to climb. I know that you do not love it when I participate in throwing a tantrum. I am really not that sensitive, it is just so effective. Maybe you shouldn't pick me up EVERY time I ask.
I do have a few questions though. I loved that place with all the huge animals I learned about in my books. Can we go back soon? How about all that snow? Can we get that more often? I love going to daddy's ball ball games. Can we do that more often? Thanks so much CC and Papa B for my ball ball goal. Do y'all think it is time for my first golf club? Should it be left handed? That guy that daddy loves to watch plays left handed.
A few things I absolutely love: Family hugs. Mrs. Sarah and Mrs. Terri. The slide at the Green Hills Y. The slide at Granddaddy and Nana's house. Ricky. Tiger. Phil. The blinds next to my bed. My house shoes (soosh). Cookies. Juice. Daddy's shoes in his closet. The pine cones next to mama's bathtub. Wrestling with dada. Safari's with granddaddy. Reading with Nana and CC. Goodnight Moon. If Mom had 3 arms. My Bible. Baby Jesus (I pitched a fit when we put Baby Jesus back in the attic. Mama said we would get him back out next year).
Overall, I am so thankful for my 18 months. I love living! And everybody seems to love me. Dada tells me this will not always be the case, but I have to love those people anyway. I guess I will grow into that because it sure doesn't make any sense at this point. I do have a couple of goals I would like to reach: getting a brother or sister and learning to use the potty. Wonder which will come first? Bye for now.
H
You may be wondering how many words I know at this point. Well, hundreds. But the problem is my family seems to be a lot less intelligent than I thought they were! It is so frustrating for them to not be able to understand me when I am trying to communicate with them. I guess I am going to have to speak a lot more slowly and conform to their limited vocabulary. I have already compromised on their names (mama, dada, nana, CC, etc). I like to say "all better" when they wipe my nose or change my diaper because I think it is cute that they say it. I have to put my palms in the air and say "ished" in order for them to grasp that I am not hungry anymore. I figured that would translate considering they ask me if I'm finished an average of 50 times a meal.
I am also fighting back in the kissing category. I have received no fewer than 1 billion kisses in 18 months. Therefore, you cannot tell me good-bye without receiving at least 3 open mouth kisses. I'm not putting up with it anymore. Nobody should have to put up with so many kisses so my goal is to prove that by showing you what it is like.
But I feel like I need to try to make a few amends (this does not mean I will discontinue doing these things, I just feel the need to divulge that I am aware I do them). I know that it is not ideal that I like to take everything out of the kitchen cabinets and leave them in the kitchen floor. I am sorry that I have figured out how to get up on your bed. God has given me the ability to climb. I know that you do not love it when I participate in throwing a tantrum. I am really not that sensitive, it is just so effective. Maybe you shouldn't pick me up EVERY time I ask.
I do have a few questions though. I loved that place with all the huge animals I learned about in my books. Can we go back soon? How about all that snow? Can we get that more often? I love going to daddy's ball ball games. Can we do that more often? Thanks so much CC and Papa B for my ball ball goal. Do y'all think it is time for my first golf club? Should it be left handed? That guy that daddy loves to watch plays left handed.
A few things I absolutely love: Family hugs. Mrs. Sarah and Mrs. Terri. The slide at the Green Hills Y. The slide at Granddaddy and Nana's house. Ricky. Tiger. Phil. The blinds next to my bed. My house shoes (soosh). Cookies. Juice. Daddy's shoes in his closet. The pine cones next to mama's bathtub. Wrestling with dada. Safari's with granddaddy. Reading with Nana and CC. Goodnight Moon. If Mom had 3 arms. My Bible. Baby Jesus (I pitched a fit when we put Baby Jesus back in the attic. Mama said we would get him back out next year).
Overall, I am so thankful for my 18 months. I love living! And everybody seems to love me. Dada tells me this will not always be the case, but I have to love those people anyway. I guess I will grow into that because it sure doesn't make any sense at this point. I do have a couple of goals I would like to reach: getting a brother or sister and learning to use the potty. Wonder which will come first? Bye for now.
H
Monday, October 12, 2009
Story
I had heard of narrative theology before this summer. However, I became acquainted with narrative theology during a missional strategies course I took. It was here that I began to understand that life (the story we are in) does not just have meaning; it has purpose. And it was here that I began to understand what Victor Frankel spent years trying to convince despondent prisoners of; that it does not matter what we expect from life, but rather what life expects from us.
I think Israel divided shortly after Solomon's death for many reasons. However, all those reasons can probably be deduced to one; the Hebrews did not understand what Frankel did. They were chosen for responsibility, not privilege.
It is sadly common that marriages tend to struggle when the nest becomes empty. I am sure there are a thousand reasons this is the case. However, I have come across at least one that Lesley Ann and I are determined not to fall victim to. The story of our life together is not going to be our children. That may sound harsh but I believe it has the potential to make all the difference. God-willing, Howell (and hopefully others) will not glean from his parents that he is the center of the universe.
Does the story that I am writing with my life reflect the Grand Narrative? Is my family's story one that will invite Howell in as well as encourage him to write a great story of his own? And in the end, is what we are writing jiving with God's Mission? I sure hope so because I know God is still at work.
I think Israel divided shortly after Solomon's death for many reasons. However, all those reasons can probably be deduced to one; the Hebrews did not understand what Frankel did. They were chosen for responsibility, not privilege.
It is sadly common that marriages tend to struggle when the nest becomes empty. I am sure there are a thousand reasons this is the case. However, I have come across at least one that Lesley Ann and I are determined not to fall victim to. The story of our life together is not going to be our children. That may sound harsh but I believe it has the potential to make all the difference. God-willing, Howell (and hopefully others) will not glean from his parents that he is the center of the universe.
Does the story that I am writing with my life reflect the Grand Narrative? Is my family's story one that will invite Howell in as well as encourage him to write a great story of his own? And in the end, is what we are writing jiving with God's Mission? I sure hope so because I know God is still at work.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
10 months old
This is Howell!! I will be 10 months old on Monday. My mom and dad have been gone the last two nights. They haven't been home to tuck me in. It's cool though because my Gran-C and Grandmother Peggy were here both nights. They get the job done. And mom and dad have been there in the morning when I wake up.
Anyway, I am so close to walking. Yesterday I learned to walk while having only one of my hands held. Forget crawling. I don't think I'm gonna even bother learning that. Some people say that crawling is a crucial part of my development. I'm not worried about it though. It just seems like a complete waste of time for me (nothing against anyone who enjoys crawling). I am just so excited about figuring out how to walk on my own. There are so many places I am eager to go that mom and dad won't take me (like those holes in the wall near the floor, or any of those ropes connected to the things that light up, or the room that it rains in).
I also have recently grown some things that really make it easier to eat. And I am getting all kinds of new food! I cannot have whole milk yet, but my dad seems really excited for me to get to that point (I think mom makes them get skim).
Papa Fowler died last week. Mom and dad said he would be so excited to see Mimi. He lived for about a year after Mimi died. I never met Mimi, but mom tells me Papa loved her so much. Mom spoke at the memorial service on behalf of the grandchildren. I would have spoken on behalf of the great-grandchildren, but all I can say thus far is da-da-da-da-da-da. It is frustrating to have all of these thoughts with no way to verbalize them. If I could have spoken I would have told everyone how much I loved it when Papa held me. I would have told them how I could tell that he was an extremely strong, kind and loving man. He would whisper things to me. I believe that I brought him joy just by being in his arms. I am not sure why I did because I can't really do much yet, but he sure did make me feel loved. Mom and dad say I will see him again someday. I am glad.
I am going to go to bed now with my giraffe (that mom calls a lovie and dad does not), my bunny and my pacifier. I love my bed, but I sure do seem closer to the floor now. Come to think of it, that happened the same night I started sleeping in my pack-and-play in the guest room while dad was acting extremely frustrated in my room. That next morning I woke up in my bed a lot closer to the floor than normal. It is kinda frustrating because I was beginning to be able to see over the side.
Anway, until next time. Good night.
H
Anyway, I am so close to walking. Yesterday I learned to walk while having only one of my hands held. Forget crawling. I don't think I'm gonna even bother learning that. Some people say that crawling is a crucial part of my development. I'm not worried about it though. It just seems like a complete waste of time for me (nothing against anyone who enjoys crawling). I am just so excited about figuring out how to walk on my own. There are so many places I am eager to go that mom and dad won't take me (like those holes in the wall near the floor, or any of those ropes connected to the things that light up, or the room that it rains in).
I also have recently grown some things that really make it easier to eat. And I am getting all kinds of new food! I cannot have whole milk yet, but my dad seems really excited for me to get to that point (I think mom makes them get skim).
Papa Fowler died last week. Mom and dad said he would be so excited to see Mimi. He lived for about a year after Mimi died. I never met Mimi, but mom tells me Papa loved her so much. Mom spoke at the memorial service on behalf of the grandchildren. I would have spoken on behalf of the great-grandchildren, but all I can say thus far is da-da-da-da-da-da. It is frustrating to have all of these thoughts with no way to verbalize them. If I could have spoken I would have told everyone how much I loved it when Papa held me. I would have told them how I could tell that he was an extremely strong, kind and loving man. He would whisper things to me. I believe that I brought him joy just by being in his arms. I am not sure why I did because I can't really do much yet, but he sure did make me feel loved. Mom and dad say I will see him again someday. I am glad.
I am going to go to bed now with my giraffe (that mom calls a lovie and dad does not), my bunny and my pacifier. I love my bed, but I sure do seem closer to the floor now. Come to think of it, that happened the same night I started sleeping in my pack-and-play in the guest room while dad was acting extremely frustrated in my room. That next morning I woke up in my bed a lot closer to the floor than normal. It is kinda frustrating because I was beginning to be able to see over the side.
Anway, until next time. Good night.
H
Monday, May 4, 2009
Prayer
Jesus left that place and went to the vicinity of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an evil spirit came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter.
Is it heretical to suggest prayer is a bit fickle? Maybe so, but I would be lying if I said I understand how God hears and responds to my prayers. Does God have the cosmos rolling in a way that leaves us as mere actors in a play that has been written long ago (either billions of years or about 5000)? Or is God more like an author who only writes those books we read as children where when coming upon a pivotal point in the storyline you could choose which direction you would like the story to go and turn to that particular page? Or maybe God is a painter who has been working on a masterpiece since time began, and now he has handed us the brush (maybe we always had the brush). We are not going to know the answers to such questions until we stand before our Maker. Until then, I will continue to pray.
Oswald Chambers said that "prayer does not necessarily change things, prayer changes me, then I change things."
Isaiah's admonitions to the Israelites to live more righteous lives did not always fall on deaf ears. King Hezekiah was a tough, good leader who loved God and his people. As Hezekiah was about to die, he feared what would happen to his people without his leadership. He feared that he was about to die when there was so much work left to be done. He expressed this to Isaiah when Isaiah came to tell him that his time was up. As Isaiah left Hezekiah, God quickly turned him around to deliver a different message. Hezekiah had 15 more years to live.
Maybe everything is already planned out. But if you are not so sure. If you think that God heard Hezekiah and in a wave of emotion decided to let him live, you will not hear criticism from me.
"First let the children eat all they want," he told her, "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to their dogs."
"Yes, Lord," she replied, "but even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
Then he told her, "For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter."
She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone (Mark 7:24-30).
I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for why Jesus seems to liken this gentile woman to a dog. I could probably even postulate a guess. However, I am not sure any guess would make this exchange seem appropriate. But unless John is misremembering the details a bit, I am faced with dealing with it. The most interesting thing to me about this story is that it seems that the woman's faith changes Jesus' mind. No offense, Father Luther.
Is it heretical to suggest prayer is a bit fickle? Maybe so, but I would be lying if I said I understand how God hears and responds to my prayers. Does God have the cosmos rolling in a way that leaves us as mere actors in a play that has been written long ago (either billions of years or about 5000)? Or is God more like an author who only writes those books we read as children where when coming upon a pivotal point in the storyline you could choose which direction you would like the story to go and turn to that particular page? Or maybe God is a painter who has been working on a masterpiece since time began, and now he has handed us the brush (maybe we always had the brush). We are not going to know the answers to such questions until we stand before our Maker. Until then, I will continue to pray.
Oswald Chambers said that "prayer does not necessarily change things, prayer changes me, then I change things."
Isaiah's admonitions to the Israelites to live more righteous lives did not always fall on deaf ears. King Hezekiah was a tough, good leader who loved God and his people. As Hezekiah was about to die, he feared what would happen to his people without his leadership. He feared that he was about to die when there was so much work left to be done. He expressed this to Isaiah when Isaiah came to tell him that his time was up. As Isaiah left Hezekiah, God quickly turned him around to deliver a different message. Hezekiah had 15 more years to live.
Maybe everything is already planned out. But if you are not so sure. If you think that God heard Hezekiah and in a wave of emotion decided to let him live, you will not hear criticism from me.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Living
This is Brandon.
Lesley Ann and I watched Grey's Anatomy tonight. I think we still watch it just because we have up to this point. We are invested in the story. And it is getting pretty good again. However, tonight was tough to watch. I would not have cried like that before Howell.
So we are going to try to be consistent with posts to this blog. It really could be a cool thing for Howell to read and maybe even continue when he is old enough.
We are still waiting on the little guy to get a tooth or crawl. Not sure which will happen first, but each is eminent. While on his belly, he can only turn himself in a circle. He has yet to figure out how to push himself up or scoot. So he tries for a moment, realizes his efforts are in vain and begins to cry. What does it say about us that we can't help but laugh when he does this. We do feel bad for him, but it is just so darn funny. I hope he will forgive us for that someday.
We are in our sixth month after moving into our renovated house. We are very blessed to have a house that we love. It was already home before construction, but now it is home to us three. Much like the rock that Jacob slept upon and then used to declare that place holy, our home is holy. It is where we first meet God each and every day. It is where we pray, where we eat, where we make small talk as well as tell stories, where we cry, where we laugh and where we rest. Our home is where we have learned so much about each other and will continue to; it is where we live. And I sure hope we are really living. For God has chosen to place our son here with us. A loan entrusted to us for not only safe keeping, but for instruction as to how he should live. All the things that we do at home, Howell will soon do them as well (he already has mastered the laughing and crying!). I guess we will get a pretty good look into who we are as we watch who he becomes.
Oh Lord, please be revealed through us. Those beautiful eyes (when awake) seem to always be upon us.
Lesley Ann and I watched Grey's Anatomy tonight. I think we still watch it just because we have up to this point. We are invested in the story. And it is getting pretty good again. However, tonight was tough to watch. I would not have cried like that before Howell.
So we are going to try to be consistent with posts to this blog. It really could be a cool thing for Howell to read and maybe even continue when he is old enough.
We are still waiting on the little guy to get a tooth or crawl. Not sure which will happen first, but each is eminent. While on his belly, he can only turn himself in a circle. He has yet to figure out how to push himself up or scoot. So he tries for a moment, realizes his efforts are in vain and begins to cry. What does it say about us that we can't help but laugh when he does this. We do feel bad for him, but it is just so darn funny. I hope he will forgive us for that someday.
We are in our sixth month after moving into our renovated house. We are very blessed to have a house that we love. It was already home before construction, but now it is home to us three. Much like the rock that Jacob slept upon and then used to declare that place holy, our home is holy. It is where we first meet God each and every day. It is where we pray, where we eat, where we make small talk as well as tell stories, where we cry, where we laugh and where we rest. Our home is where we have learned so much about each other and will continue to; it is where we live. And I sure hope we are really living. For God has chosen to place our son here with us. A loan entrusted to us for not only safe keeping, but for instruction as to how he should live. All the things that we do at home, Howell will soon do them as well (he already has mastered the laughing and crying!). I guess we will get a pretty good look into who we are as we watch who he becomes.
Oh Lord, please be revealed through us. Those beautiful eyes (when awake) seem to always be upon us.
Friday, April 17, 2009
8 months old
This is my first post. I'm posting from LA (lower Alabama). Gulf Shores to be exact. Granddaddy grew up down here. They have kept a beachhouse all these years, and this is already my 2nd trip down! I may be only 8 months old, but that is old enough to know it is super cool to have a beachhouse in the family.
Mom is at some luncheon. At least that is what she said. Someone she knows is getting married tomorrow (that is why we are down here), and although I don't know who it is, my mom tells me that they love me. Come to think of it, everybody I meet seems to love me before they even have a chance to get to know me. Especially Jesus. Mom and dad are always telling me how much Jesus loves me. I think whoever that is loves me as much as mom and dad do. I haven't met Jesus yet.
I have been hanging out with my daddy all day long! We read books and sang songs and played with my toys. We put our matching sunglasses on and went down to the beach, but it was so windy we had to come inside. Sand was getting all over us. I ate squash, chicken and corn and then had some strawberries and bananas. But it is strange because mom and dad don't eat their strawberries and bananas with a spoon. Hmmm?
I am currently fighting against naptime, but I always lose this battle. I get so sleepy. But it is very painful to give in and fall asleep. I just feel like I am missing so much.
Anyway, I am learning little things here and there about this Jesus. My dad and I were listening to this preacher earlier and he was talking about Jesus. He was saying that Jesus was a Rabbi who had twelve disciples that followed him everywhere he went. He said that this guy Mark was trying to teach me about Jesus by teaching me how Jesus interacted with his disciples. Disciple means "learner." From the preacher I learned that I am not supposed to simply learn from what Jesus says or does although those things are very important. What is most important is that I learn who Jesus is. I am anxious to do this. I sure hope I meet him soon.
Well I am going to give up my fight now. Naptime. See you soon.
H
Mom is at some luncheon. At least that is what she said. Someone she knows is getting married tomorrow (that is why we are down here), and although I don't know who it is, my mom tells me that they love me. Come to think of it, everybody I meet seems to love me before they even have a chance to get to know me. Especially Jesus. Mom and dad are always telling me how much Jesus loves me. I think whoever that is loves me as much as mom and dad do. I haven't met Jesus yet.
I have been hanging out with my daddy all day long! We read books and sang songs and played with my toys. We put our matching sunglasses on and went down to the beach, but it was so windy we had to come inside. Sand was getting all over us. I ate squash, chicken and corn and then had some strawberries and bananas. But it is strange because mom and dad don't eat their strawberries and bananas with a spoon. Hmmm?
I am currently fighting against naptime, but I always lose this battle. I get so sleepy. But it is very painful to give in and fall asleep. I just feel like I am missing so much.
Anyway, I am learning little things here and there about this Jesus. My dad and I were listening to this preacher earlier and he was talking about Jesus. He was saying that Jesus was a Rabbi who had twelve disciples that followed him everywhere he went. He said that this guy Mark was trying to teach me about Jesus by teaching me how Jesus interacted with his disciples. Disciple means "learner." From the preacher I learned that I am not supposed to simply learn from what Jesus says or does although those things are very important. What is most important is that I learn who Jesus is. I am anxious to do this. I sure hope I meet him soon.
Well I am going to give up my fight now. Naptime. See you soon.
H
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