Name That Type

I love you. But I fear you. I know that everyone is different, and I don’t know how this will go.

But I only want you to know that I love you, nothing of the fear.

I jump into things without considering risks. Well, at least things having to do with people. I also forget to consider effects on myself.

I want you to be loved, no matter what. No matter the cost to me.

They say I draw my energy from you. Perhaps. More likely I spend more on you than I draw. But that is another thing I hide. Why be a downer? Nobody needs to know that part.

Best everyone knows only that they are valued and important; not of any ill effect to me.

Money is no object - sometimes it’s not even there. Time isn’t too much of a consideration, sometimes to the detriment of those under my responsibility. What is important is going that extra mile (or 100 miles) to demonstrate loyalty, appreciation, solidarity, availability, a dependable help in a time of need.

Or any other time. Did somebody tell me you’re moving for the 5th time? I’m there!

Sometimes I play into a trap, because it’s more important to do my best and be present for you than to discern what your purposes for my presence in your life is. At least, that’s what my nature drives me to do, even if the anxiety and uncertainty are playing out as the evidence of abuse stacks up.

But surely nobody would take advantage of me; it must be that I was not helpful enough, or giving enough, or kind enough. But it’s worth noting, so I can improve in those areas.

Bedtime is long past, but why would I ever even consider kicking you out? You’re here with a need. Or a chest full of difficult experiences to unload. Or a desire for company that supersedes petty sleep. I’d choose to give the time in a heartbeat, certainly before considering it.

The crowd coming today is intimidating, so many people, gotta bump the budget; perhaps I will get a chance to sit sometime during the event. Or not, no worries; no matter. I’ll sleep later, sometime. For now, I have to be the momentum carrier and the “perfect host.”

I am exhausted, but I don’t want you to know.

I’m stressed beyond imagining, but I don’t want you to see it.

I need to have some downtime, but I can’t imagine when it will be.

I don’t know where I will get the energy for that next gathering, but it would never enter my mind to cancel it.

Hello, I’m the extrovert, and I’m here for you. You’ll never know otherwise, and you’ll think that I thrive on your presence and have nothing the least more important than talking to and listening to you. Because I love you, whoever you are.

No matter what, I’d have it no other way.

For Mrs. Mulvey - A tribute

I can't tell you enough to do justice to the experience; my feeble representation of the events and feelings can serve only as a guide to your imagination on the topic. It was a night of unsurpassed realization of everything I had dreamed about for so many years.

Her green eyes sparkled as they locked onto mine, and as she spoke those words, my heart, body and soul were hers. I couldn't see anyone else the whole time, and time itself passed as if a dream while I watched and feared to pinch myself for what may disappear. There are no words which can describe that feeling, the overwhelming powerful urge to laugh and cry and scream and dance and jump all at the same time, all for the same reason. But it is paralyzing, as if, in my mind, I was doing all of those things, but I couldn't even bring my body to move a muscle; mesmerized.

And it didn't stop. The same feeling again, the joy, the ecstatic, the nearly lunatic happiness, came at the birth of my first daughter, Ariel. I held her in my hands, so small and fragile; such a miracle. Again, holding my breath, I was paralyzed and unable to do anything but just marvel at the gift I held before me. Who can describe that? How does one use imperfect words to describe that perfection?

Its been 58 years now since those green eyes sparkled at me across the minister's Bible, and I am every bit as lost now in her glance as I was that night. Though I may appear strange to others, I continue to admire the beauty and watch her through my own failing eyes. And I still see the same girl. Though her physical body may be changed, and not what we may call beautiful in this world, I know what is there underneath it; for I know her, and not just her beauty.

She forgot we'd moved to the small country house recently, and asked when we were going home. I think her memory may be failing her, but she still knows me; I drove her home as she requested, and she fell asleep in my arms on the bench in the front. Still so small and quiet, I remember the early days when she would fall asleep so suddenly, right in my arms where I always wanted her to be. I could tell when she was still falling asleep, and the moment she had arrived - and I would gaze down at her and admire her perfect face. She still looks the same to me, her hair a little more grey now, but still beautiful in the sunlight.

She doesn't know me now, wondered who I was and wanted to know when I would leave. I suppose I will need to get some help to see what would be best for her; I cried this morning, it broke my heart. But I still love her. I wonder what she is thinking? I wonder what goes on in that incredible mind? What does she feel? What does she need? Is she lonely? I am a little lonely now. I don't really want to eat, or do anything for that matter. Will she recognize me one more time? What will her eyes say?

I'm alone now; she lay still this morning in my arms, and I could tell she wouldn't move again. I stared blankly out the window, still holding my love in my arms. What now? Can I survive without her? What can my life mean without her? I am struck with a profound loneliness, and lean back to sleep. I don't think I'm going to like this very much. I am sad.

Its been two years since she left me, I hardly know what to do. Its always quiet around here, everyone is really respectful. I bought back the old home, you see, in her memory. But now all I can see are memories - there are so many of them, all over this house, and my heart breaks every time. I miss her, I don't want to be here anymore. Take me home Jesus, oh please take me home.

Words - by Ritika Khanal

Words words words. I love words. I know that the number million is not common, but it kind of is. There are not many people who actually have a million dollars or a million things. They just say that. But there are some things that are very important in this world and there are more than a million of them. In this world there are more than a million words. What would we do without words? Words words words, wonderful words!

Words are words and no one can take them away from the world. All the different cultures and countries all have different words. Its so amazing. Who thought of all this?

People that can not talk still know how important words are. People that cannot hear still know about words. The whole world has to go with words. If there were no words then the world would be a mess.

How would the President be making things worse? How could the President come and make people vote for him? How could the President be making the country really poor and bad? How could he do all the bad things and all the lies he is making? How could he do all these things to ruin our country without words?

How could people be on tv without words? Half the things they say are true and then throw some lies at the end. No one could do these things without words. All the money advertisers get from commercials they get by lying. But some get their money by honesty.

Wordless music is not as fun as singing. If we did not have words than we wouldn’t have singing. How could slaves survive without music? Most of all, the only reason we have music is because of words.

Even deaf people are still able to do signs with their hands and talk. How they talk is with words. Their hands are representing words.

Words are necessary work and school. People are going to work and it is because of words. How would the boss hire them and how would everything be? Now here’s the thing, how am I and all my friends going to school without words? It is all because of words. How would teachers teach? How would we make friends?

How all these things are happening is because there are words in this world. They go together really really well. They are best friends.

Just a part of being Daddy

She makes me laugh a lot. When she squeezes my finger and grins from ear to ear; when she calls out in that tiny voice so joyfully. I relish each time, and look forward to the next.

And sometimes she makes me cry. She is unaware, of course, and it's not intentional. She just wants that one thing I can't give her; something Mommy alone can provide.

Tonight is one of the latter. It breaks my heart and strongly pushes me to break down in great sobs - I can even feel them at the edges of my eyes, awaiting freedom. She is screaming. There is nothing she wants more than Mommy. There is nothing I can do to bring her smile, and she knows it. Yet here I am, holding her, desperate to find some way to hold her or cuddle that will bring me nearer to her heart; caressing and stroking her cheeks vainly in attempt to bring her solace from the sobbing and screaming.

But to no avail.

And there she comes, there is Mommy. One glimpse and there is silence, hopeful wet eyes will Mommy forward, and a smile breaks the snot-drenched lips I wish so desperately would smile for me too.

I know it is not abnormal, and I even know this won't stop here. There will always be a toy, friend, boy, or husband who will bring her more happiness than I can, and it will hurt the same every time - perhaps hundreds of times - it is just part of being Daddy.

Jaclyn

Baby is sleeping, Tiffany is sleeping. Just before slumber overtook her, though, Tiffany said "blog". And that is a good idea.

A lot has happened since the last entry here, almost a blur of memories now; so many good memories, and a few difficult.

On May 18th, 2013, I got married. I married an incredible girl. We all say that, we husbands, men who have hoped and dreamed to find "the one", and who stumble upon the discovery: "Oh my word; here she is!" And as quickly as you discover that fact, you realize that it would be death to your heart to let her get away.

When she walked down the aisle toward me, escorted by Kelley Taylor, I wasn't scared. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't worried. I was thrilled. The phrase, "there's no going back" would have hit empty space; it was obvious. I would never want to go back - this was some of God's most amazing work, the best experience He had ever granted me in the 30 years I'd been on the planet.

She smiled, knowing that she was giving me chills just by flashing her gorgeous eyes in my direction. Of course her entire stunning appearance increased those chills. How has God been so gracious to this poor stupid sinner? Surely I could be no happier than this moment; surely this was an overdose of bliss prepared by God for those He blesses, deserving or undeserving. (For those questioning the deserving vs undeserving statement, there is a single deserving man of God's blessings, named Jesus; the rest of us fall under the other category. But God has blessed us all despite the disparity in our natures.)

Then we were wed, and the people clapped and cheered; and God was there, binding us by our own vows until the end of our lives on earth - as long as law can bind a man or a woman.

The reception was gorgeous. My mom and dad spent months of time, a fortune in money, and ten years' worth of engineering work into the entire experience, and it showed. Volunteers came from everywhere to help out, including our ushers and groomsmen, and it came together better than we had dreamed. We walked in, announced, and again to cheers, and we knew we were loved by so many. And God was there, so it was good.

Marriage isn't the easiest relationship, and it doesn't guarantee happiness. It doesn't guarantee sweet romance, and it doesn't guarantee beauty in every experience. That all takes work. Without the work, marriage is simply an enormous pain, an unwanted commitment, made, perhaps, in haste, and an unfruitful event. Or perhaps there is even rotted fruit.

There is happiness in my marriage relationship; there is beauty, there is romance. And there is work. God is good, and He reminds me often of the laziness in my life which will with certainty bear poor fruit, hurt my Tiffany, and grieve Him, the Lord. I always regret when I bow to Sin, and my greatest desire is to be perfect, in thoughts and actions and in love.

But Tiffany is a marvel. I keep watching her, and always I am amazed at the seeming ease with which she works on her side of this relationship. She is loving and kind, and respectful. She is sweet, and strong, and able to follow. She concerns herself with my welfare and needs, and with the Lord's will. She doesn't always know the Lord's will, but she ALWAYS desires to know. I am humbled by the love my wife has for me, and greatly encouraged to give the love that God provides to her.

Tiffany is the type of wife who, by simply doing what she knows is right and good from her knowledge of God, humbles anyone who may dare to think they fully understand marriage. There's no wavering, no regret, and no fear.

In July of 2013, we found ourselves pregnant with our first baby. I began to prepare and realized almost immediately that all the preparation I could do would likely find me still missing most of what I needed when the time came; I needed to let God prepare my heart. I have struggled with this for some time, and I struggled with it again. How do you prepare for such a changed life?

Don't get me wrong, I love being married, and serving Tiffany is one of my all-time favorite things to do, more so every day. But I am a selfish and prideful creature, bred in the image of Sin, and gravitating toward self-gratification, superiority, and a miserly attitude concerning my precious time. This does not go well together with a servant's attitude, which is not only what I am called to have according to God's definition of Marriage, but also according to God's laws concerning my fellow man!

This brings me to some great changes that are cracking the foundations of my being. My intellect, my knowledge, my spiritual understanding, my understanding of Love, my very life itself, these are changing.

Romans 8:22-23 speaks of all of Creation, and even we as those who hold the promise of redemption, groan for the return of Jesus and the manifestation of our greatest joys -- the adoption into the sonship to God Himself, with Jesus our brother, the first fruit of God's divine plan. It is quoted below:

"22 For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. 23 And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body."

The greatest thing I have learned since marrying Tiffany, amongst other truly great things of God, is this: to groan for the redemption of my sinful body! In this, I cease to fear death, but welcome it - and death becomes entirely changed. Death must occur here and now, every moment, and it must take every one of my sinful indulgences; indeed, it must consume my entire sinful nature. My flesh - that of me which desires sin, which is lazy, which is egotistical, which is arrogant, which is self-focused, and which decries publicly that I am chained to evil - must be executed through the nails driven into Jesus' hands and feet, and banished by His Words stating that my debt had been paid. For what debtor who has been released from his debts wishes to pretend he still owes on them?

This is an obvious answer to many, including myself. But saying that it is good and true and necessary is a wholly separate thing from making it so. The more I permit myself to truly see how wretched my soul is, buried in years (decades!) of Sin, which I do not want to address but keep hidden deep down inside, the more I cry for freedom and regret those habits I built from years preceding.

But hope is present at all times while my soul is focused on Jesus, my guide and redeemer, so I do not lose it, but gain more hope each and every day as slowly this burden is lifted and I am freed from its power.

Tiffany provides the perfect place of application for this process, and she also encourages me through it. It is a truly joyful moment every time I discover where I may love her more and with Jesus' love instead of my own - and sometimes she never even knows it. It can be as simple as a change in vehicular driving habits. Or it can be as large as an anger management problem. Whatever it is, the more of these sinful diseases Jesus clears away, the more I am freed to love Jesus. And by loving Jesus, I love Tiffany.

And then Jaclyn Rose was born.

We hadn't fully decided on the middle name just yet, though we often talked about it and considered many names while we lay in bed, waiting for the contractions to start in earnest.

One such occasion was the evening of April 24th, 2014. Although Tiffany had definitely felt several notable contractions since the previous couple of weeks, when the midwife had first pointed out a contraction in progress during a prenatal appointment, they weren't like these. We began to get excited, and Tiffany timed them until she feel asleep. They were not as sporadic as previously, but also were not consistent enough to take her into labor. I went to sleep listening to Tiffany count the contractions and time them out. She's always so organized, it amazes me.

At 2:00AM, Tiffany woke me up by pointing out that the contractions were becoming very regular, and lasting quite a while each. We began to time them, I half asleep and barely able to concentrate on the single large button I was to hit on her phone for each contraction she had. They started out between 5 and 7 minutes apart, and we knew we were watching to see them be 4 minutes apart, lasting a minute each, and repeating this pattern for an hour. By 2:52AM, we were tracking very consistent contractions that were often below 4 minutes apart, so we called the midwife to check in. She listened to Tiffany a bit and then said to call back when the contractions were all 4 minutes or less apart and when Tiffany was beginning to really work at them.

By 6:00AM, Tiffany had been groaning with a new urgency and the contractions had narrowed to 4 minutes or less apart, so we called again and the midwife said to come in. Packing last minute items, we left to meet at the birth center at 7:15AM. I made brief calls to close family and friends who had requested to know when the labor was beginning, and then went to watch a miracle unfold.

Like I mentioned earlier, all the classes, other peoples' experiences, guessing, studying, reading, etc. that a guy can do beforehand cannot prepare him for the event. It was certainly true for me. In many ways, Tiffany was a changed person during the labor; her calm collected and easygoing mannerisms were replaced by strong and pleading expressions, often of desperation, resulting from the pain of contractions. She wanted baby out, and she wanted it now! Throughout the day there were requests and hopeful suggestions such as, "They offer nitris oxide!", or "Could you run over to Evergreen to maybe get me an epidural?", and even "Cut it out, just cut it out!!!! I can't do this!!"

But I knew this was not her. Quite honestly, I knew she would be in enormous pain, but I did not realize just how much pain I could feel watching her agonizing response to her uterus' tightening and preparation for birth. But God was good, and neither Tiffany nor I fainted.

About 8:00AM, Tiffany's mom's, Mary Jo's, arrival was announced to us, so a little later we invited her in. Tiffany had always wanted her mom present for her labor, and this was yet another answer to prayers sent up from each of us, each of my family members, and quite a few other close friends and family. Again, God is very good. I believe Mom's presence there was a great source of calm for Tiffany; and to me, she was a great help and support. We are both very thankful to her.

From early on, and all the way to 3PM, Tiffany's dilation went from 3cm up to 6cm; but the pain was strong enough to where Tiffany, at each check and subsequent pronouncement of one or two more cm widening, was greatly distressed, having expected significantly more widening based on the work she was putting into it. Poor gal; and I was powerless to help her.

After around 6-8 different positions, including a couple in the jacuzzi which the birth center provided, and 18 hours of labor, we realized the baby was still posterior, and needed to spin around to position for optimal birth. We had known about this, and were working through the positions to make the spin happen, but it was slow grueling work, and Tiffany was becoming desperate and exhausted.

At this point, we asked all the people in the room to leave so we could talk; it was time to break Tiffany's water sack.

For background, the water sac contains the amniotic fluid which cushions the baby against their surroundings. The fluid is actually baby's expressed urine during gestation. Part of the cushioning includes below the baby's head at the pelvic bone. Unfortunately, it also greatly slows baby's movement down into the mother's pelvis. When the sac is broken and the fluid drains, it removes the cushioning and encourages movement downward toward birth.

Fearfully, Tiffany was also aware that breaking the amniotic sac would greatly increase the intensity of the contractions, which already racked her body. This was something she had feared long before labor began, and with her state of mind as it was, it was in her vision as an incredible terror.

With the midwives, students, and family outside, Tiffany and I chatted about labor, breaking waters, what we wanted and expected. She already knew that it was going to be a wise idea, and that it would greatly reduce the time until the issue of our baby, but the terror was thick and she was scared. But once we talked about it, we came up with a few reasonable questions, and requested the midwife and students return to answer them.

It is worth noting that the midwives' birth clinic does not offer pain medications. This is primarily due to the dangers of the anesthesia and the oft required accelerants such as Pitocin. Instead, they offer nitrous oxide. Instead of removing the pain response of the body, like an epidural, nitrous oxide (also known as "laughing gas") instead encourages the mind to "forget" the pain. In this way, the contractions are not changed, and labor/birth continues as naturally as possible.

After our few quick questions, we concluded that it would be best to break Tiffany's amniotic sac, and I secretly resolved at what point I would ask the midwives to bring the nitrous oxide, if at all.

As it turns out, Tiffany pronounced the operation of breaking her water the least offensive procedure of the morning, and was able to relax a bit just from that small encouragement. Unfortunately, the next position she was asked to use caused an unreasonably elevated pain level due to cord cramping. However, once she moved back to the jacuzzi, it seemed to me that her energy was greatly revived, and she worked through each contraction, even as they became more and more intense, with great endurance and vigor.

This was an answer to the prayers I had been offering for those past 20 hours, hoping God would see fit to relieve her pain long enough to give her the needed energy.

We had others praying too; not only many friends and family, but several close family members who hung out in the waiting room the entire day -- even without getting to join us in the birth room. These were our heroes, running to get us food, supplies, or anything for which we asked. My mom and dad, Pete and Julie, my brother and his wife, Robin and Staci, and their two little girls, Tiara and Violet, all waited for 20+ hours for us.

We are most certainly loved, and very thankful!

About an hour and a half after the midwives broke Tiffany's water, they explained to her that at some point, when her body began to encourage pushing. as opposed to just enduring the contractions, they explained, it was good to go with the feeling and allow her body to actually push the baby as it felt right.

After another hour, or 64 minutes, to be precise, she began feeling that very urge, and began pushing.

I suddenly realized it was happening - these were those few moments before my life would change forever. My baby was coming!! At this point, we asked my mom to come into the room as well, to witness the birth of her granddaughter.

The midwife turned to me and, knowing it was in our plan for me to catch the baby, said she would be making sure the head was in good position when it emerged, then I could catch the rest of the baby as Tiffany pushed.

Then we saw it. A very small protrusion showed a dark hairy head, and I was fooled into an idea of how small it must be.

During the previous portions of the labor, while baby was posterior (facing forward), baby's head was shaped differently than if baby had been anterior. The shaping appeared to elongate baby's head via the forehead, and this gave the appearance, as it emerged, that it was a very small head.

And then, all of a sudden, not only had the full real (and significantly larger than I had expected) head appeared, but the entire baby was born in an instant, before I could even get my hands down to catch; and in the next instant, the midwife had scooped up the baby and placed baby carefully on mommy's chest for immediate skin to skin contact.

My baby was there in front of me! When someone asked if it was a boy or girl, Tiffany and I looked together. She was a girl. She was Jaclyn. A beautiful girl. All of the previous experiences of the day were forgotten, and mommy, daddy, and baby bonded. When they moved Tiffany to the bed, they gave Jackie to me to hold while they checked heartbeat, breathing and a few other vitals on her. I was, once again, in paradise, and didn't want to let go.

The time came for the first feeding, more vitals checks, measurements, weights, and paperwork. We gratefully ate the food Tiffany's mom had left for us, and prepared for the short trip home with our newest family member. I was given the privilege of dressing Jaclyn and getting her set into her car seat for the first time. She didn't make a sound; she was as exhausted as her parents.

When we arrived home, we went pretty much straight to bed. Our hearts brimmed with excitement and anticipation, even as our bodies relaxed, finally, into the soft comfortable bed.

We were next to our new little one. Our greatest adventure yet, and the most precious person we have ever met. Welcome Jaclyn Rose, we love you; you have been greatly anticipated, and you are more wonderful and beautiful than we could have dreamed.

Wisdom

Oh Lord, may this truly be the cry of my heart!

The perfect wisdom of our God, Revealed in all the universe: All things created by His hand, And held together at His command. He knows the mysteries of the seas, The secrets of the stars are His; He guides the planets on their way, And turns the earth through another day.

The matchless wisdom of His ways, That mark the path of righteousness; His word a lamp unto my feet, His Spirit teaching and guiding me. And oh, the mystery of the cross, That God should suffer for the lost So that the fool might shame the wise, And all the glory might go to Christ!

Oh grant me wisdom from above, To pray for peace and cling to love, And teach me humbly to receive The sun and rain of Your sovereignty. Each strand of sorrow has a place Within this tapestry of grace; So through the trials I choose to say: “Your perfect will in your perfect way.”

Hint of Bliss

"How do you envision the future?" I asked, after carefully studying her face for a few minutes.

"As a bunch of big girly dreams." she answered evenly.

"May I make one of those dreams come true tonight?" I asked.

It had been a great lump of crazy excitement getting up to this point, and my mind was in a whirlwind; only the two nights before I had decided to get the Promise Ring and make things official. I was so done with undefined relationships.

Tuesday evening I had gone to Fred Meyer jewelers to pick out the prize I would hand to her, only a few hurdles remained. When I got home, I called Steve, her step-dad, and asked his permission to give the ring to her.

I had text-messaged Steve requesting permission to call and have a private conversation with him, he said yes.

"Took you long enough." he said, answering the call moments after I had received permission to make it.

"Hello sir," I began, "I bought a promise ring and would like to ask your permission, as the man she considers her dad, to give it to her. It is my sign that I have found the girl in whom I see the character of a wife and would heretofore like to focus on building up my relationship with her. May I give it to her with these intentions?"

His response was simple. "Ok."

I could barely believe my ears. He trusted me that much already? No grilling or twenty questions? Shocked, I thanked him profusely and began to plan how I would present it to her. It would be at Olive Garden, but how to get her there in this already-packed week. The only day I could see working was the next day - Wednesday.

I messaged her and asked if she would join me for dinner that next evening. She responded with an emphatic. "Yes!" I refused to tell her where we would go. This was likely her first clue to what was happening.

The next day I sent constant count-downs to the minute I would see her, and she began to play along, likely not knowing the significance of the day just yet. As the time got closer, I became giddy, but refused to show it. When I arrived to get her I was as calm and collected as I could manage to be.

I found out later that, as I walked up past the front window, her mom told her I was wearing a "nicer" shirt and Tiffany went running up to change into something nicer herself.

When we pulled up into the parking lot for Olive Garden, she admitted that, from an earlier comment I had made, that she should be hungry, she had suspected this was the place to which we were headed.

I had set up a ruse in order to get not only the ring in its box into the restaurant, but the entire bag. It worked and she had no idea.

As she grinned at my hopes, she said that yes, I could make a dream come true tonight. I pulled out the bag, admitting my ruse, and set it before her. Near disbelief covered her face as she began to pull the small box out and a tangible glow spread across her countenance as she opened it; I explained what the ring was and what it meant. She grinned a grin that would not leave her face for at least a month.

After dinner, we drove down to Mukilteo beach and sat on a dock until long after dark, watching the boats and the water together, hearts full of unspoken dreams and excitement enough to make us both glow in the dark.

Here begins a new journey, and here closes an old tattered chapter of my life. I welcome this new adventure God has set before me wholeheartedly, it's so good to be in His will for once.

And I couldn't be happier.