Making A Getaway

She finally figured out what the presents under the tree were about. We're going to wait until husbands working over christmas arrive to open most of them; we'll see if that works..

Contentment

My heart is not proud, Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.
- Psalm 131

Thus I have become in his eyes like one bringing contentment. – Song of Solomon 8:10

This year I am thinking about contentment. I am thinking about how easy it is to want things. Material things, like a new dress or designer bag; simple things, like not having to work twelve-hour hospital shifts on Christmas day away from family. Deep things, like a second child. Reasonable things, like knowing where we will be living next year.

To some degree I feel entitled to these things. I feel I need them; I feel if God were good he would give them to me. But none of that is true. I am not entitled to anything. I do not need them to be content. God’s goodness is not conditional, his sovereignty nothing less than complete. To believe otherwise is to lose perspective in light of my selfishness, to place faith in myself rather than in God.

If anyone had right to feel entitled, it would have been God coming into our world. But he was born to an ordinary girl in a stable. I read E these Christmas books, where the sheep smile down at the manger, the doves coo and the donkeys pull a warm blanket over the baby, and I think, what a load of hogwash. The stable probably smelled of manure, was drafty and definitely unhygienic. The hay was scratchy and the manger soaked with dirty water and horse saliva. It would be the equivalent of giving birth in a garage or parking lot.

I look at my sister’s baby lying on her chest. I think about E lying her head on my shoulder. And I think, God, give me a heart that is not proud and does not try to understand more than I can. Give me rest in contentment. He gives us the strength to be content, because he understands our deepest desires, our unspoken sorrows; he sustains us and gives us hope. He has shown us how, even from the beginning.

Then we can become like one who brings contentment, to friends and patients and those closest to us. And that would be a wonderful gift.

Hair

I don’t know what to do with her hair. Around six months she was developing a mullet so I trimmed the bottom. Then I was so anti-bowl-cut that for a while she didn’t have any cut at all, which meant she looked like Justin Bieber on good hair days, and Ashton Kutcher on bad ones. Sometimes after a long nap she would develop a small afro. I finally gave in and trimmed her bangs, and most days I try to clip up the sides or tie ponytails, but she’ll only tolerate that for so long before pulling it out—though she’s always very good about holding on to the ties and giving them back to me. She tries to pull my hairclips out as well as a favor. And she looks so innocent.

Journal Excerpt

Seeing E with her newborn cousin definitely amps things up to a whole new level of cuteness. It’s like taking a newborn kitten, tying a ribbon around its neck, putting it next to a puppy, then watching them cuddle in front of a mountain stream. Sometimes I find myself having to look away.

She likes to go up to him whenever he’s in the room, stick her face right in front of his, and make this excited smiling sound while scrunching up her face into a big grin. She walks around with that expression plastered on her face for minutes afterwards. She likes to rock the chair he sits in up and down, rather vigorously. She pushes the buttons on it for him and wiggles her butt to the music. She likes to point to his nose and feet. She likes to lay her head down next to him when he lies on the floor.

She is surprisingly gentle. I like to think this is because of the million times I have repeated GENTLE- GENTLE to her while she pets the cats, but it probably has nothing to do with that.

Today she brought over a diaper while he was lying on the floor, opened it and tried to stick it on his bottom. She also likes to give him desitin and baby wipes. Why don’t you work on changing your own diaper first, I tell her.

Security Blanket

This is a pillowcase from Ikea she slept on and liked to bunch around her face when she was a newborn. Now she drags it everywhere around the house. She points to it about fifty times a day so we can remind her what it's called (bae-bae in chinese). D bought a whole bedding set just so we'd have an extra one in case she loses it, though we've been careful not to let her see both at the same time, because the universe might just explode if that happened.