Did you know?

Alexander the Great set up multiple Alexandrias as he conquered nation after nation across Europe and Asia. Alexandria, Egypt is the most famous of them, obviously, and I'm living in a knock-off Alexandria (no, he didn't make it to America, no matter how great he was). I recently learned, however, that the farthest away Alexandria that Alexander the Great founded was in Afghanistan. That Alexandria is now the sight of an American Air Force base...where my husband is currently stationed.

So how cool is it that I'm in Alexandria and the Man is in Alexandria and we just had a son named Alexander (stalkers ignore this reference to Little's name)?

Mary and Me, Part Two

My earlier Mary thoughts continued on through the taking of Communion. The symbolism of the bread and the wine, body and blood, while my son was growing within me, was especially poignant. Now that he's here in the flesh and I can see for myself his skin, his hair, his fingernails, it's that much more telling.

I think about Mary at the foot of the cross. What would it have been like to have the memories of your tiny baby boy as you watched him, now grown, die a horrible, painful death, knowing that, in part, that death was because of your sin? I can't imagine. I grow emotional at the thought of putting my son through the casting, and possibly surgery, necessary for his own physical development--and that's not even because of something I did wrong. How would I have felt knowing that my son had to experience pain because of me, because of my mistakes, my sins? It would've pretty much killed me.

Why don't I think about Christ's death this way more often? If I could just put myself in Mary's shoes and live with that emotional impact, I think that my life would be so much more purposeful. Because he died for me, for me, and he was more innocent even than my own child is now, shouldn't that affect change in my life? My sin put him on that cross. It just gave me a lot to think about.

So. Worth. It.

Introducing: the Little Man born 7 January 2010 at 7.31am. 8lbs, 15 oz. 20.7 inches. Status: ridiculously cute.

I think I'll keep him...

Bringing in the New Year...in some ways, unexpectedly

A year ago yesterday:

Hmm, so much for our ten year plan. My New Year's Resolution is to Push. This. Baby. Out.

Come on, Baby Friz! You know you want to come out to play!

early new years--just in case

I really wanted to wait and post this on New Years, but then I realized that I could be stuck in a hospital then, so I should probably just go ahead and post. So here is my fortune cookie thought for the New Year.

How would you feel if in one fortune cookie you received two fortunes, and the first one said:

-You will maintain good health and enjoy life

and then the second one said:

-Your luck has been completely changed today

Do you worry that your luck has been completely changed AFTER the first fortune? Should I be worried that I'm no longer going to maintain good health and enjoy life? I just need to know... How do you balance out the reading of two different fortunes? that arrived in one fortune cookie! And, most importantly, will this effect my new year at all?

What a relief that I don't really believe in fortune cookies and their ability to change the course of a woman's life.

Five Years

Today I wanted to write about the 2004 tsunami...to remember...but I find that there aren't enough words right now. I spent my entire senior year of college trying to process it and put it in some kind of written form, and so now the idea of sitting down and writing something brief and pithy about the depth of grief and devastation that was brought about on December 26th five years ago is just overwhelming. There were so many stories. Even now, it's hard to know what to do with all the stories. I was only there for a week, six months after the tsunami, to help with relief work, but I heard enough stories to write a book. Stories of survival. Stories of grief. Stories of complete and abject loss. A few have especially stuck with me: the young boy who somehow managed to swim to safety but lost his entire family, the woman who had to be tied down at night to keep her from going down to the shore to look for her only daughter who had drowned in the waves, the music professor who thought that if he could only have a piano everything with be okay. I know that they haven't forgotten, so neither will I. I continue to pray for them and tell their stories, and it may not be much, but it's something.

Mary and Me

As Christmas is closing in, I've been thinking a lot about Mary. Thinking about what it must've been like to be her at the birth of her son Who was going to turn out to be so much more than who she ever thought He'd be. I've found that I have a different way of looking at the Christmas story this year than before. Sure, you say, it's because she's nine months pregnant and getting ready to explode with child. And yes, that's some of it. But it's a little bit more.

Mary didn't have her perfect pregnancy. Growing up in her culture, giving birth to her firstborn son was probably something she'd looked forward to her whole life. Yet because she submitted to God's will, all her dreams for how it should be were taken from her. She didn't have her family around her to support her. She didn't have a nice place to give birth. She didn't get to help pick the name of the child. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. More than anything, I think about how what should've been an occasion for joy would have been tainted by the shame that others were projecting on her. Think how it must've looked to everyone. Think how it must've felt to not even be able to tell her friends for fear of what they would think.

I know I don't have anything on Mary, but I know what it's like to not have your perfect pregnancy. I may not be without family during this time, but I don't have my husband. I may not be giving birth in a stable, but I'm delivering on an Air Force base (not anywhere I'd ever planned for). I may not have been given the name of our child by God, but I'm filling out the birth certificate on my own--and if it's a girl, I don't know what we're going to do! And while I don't have the cultural shame of being pregnant before I got married, I do have the current cultural shame of getting pregnant my first year of marriage when I "could've done so much more with my life."

I think I'm very glad that God knew best, in my case and definitely in Mary's. My little guy is going to be such a gift to our family, and every time I look at him and see his dad's face, I'm going to give thanks...and it'll make our time of separation go by so much more quickly. As for Mary, her baby turned out to be a gift not just for her, but for the whole world. And every time we look at Him and see His Dad's face, we can give thanks...and be glad that we're no longer separated from God because of our sin.