Names and Irony Part 1

 My husband James and I really enjoyed picking our children's names. Their names and meanings were significant to us, and carefully chosen with purpose.

We named our first son James Ethan. James, after my husband, and Ethan, which means "strong, firm, and enduring". We liked that it was a strong Biblical name. Ethan was also the second wisest man in the Bible next to Solomon, so that, too, was a boon. We prayed that no matter what, this child would grow up to stand firm for God. I read somewhere else that the word "impetuous" was also inferred, but we didn't name him after that version of the name.

James and I chose to name our second son Elias Iry. We chose "Elias" because it was the Greek form of Elijah, and it means "mouthpiece of God". Because James and I were growing stronger in our own faith, we wanted this one to truly be a spokesperson for God. We chose his middle name- Iry, in honor of James' great grandfather, a godly man.

Our daughter came along and we chose Lillian Grace, to symbolize the beautiful Lily flower, and encapsulate the imagery of the poetry in the Old Testament: Lily of the Valley. Grace, because that is such a wonderful part of God that we love-- His Grace.

Our fourth and final came along, our son Jack Waylan. Jack is named after C. S. Lewis, one of the greatest Christian apologist of the last century, a favorite author, who chose to be called "Jack" by all those closest to him. Waylan, a wild sounding adventurous name, was inspired by a very dry, witty professor back in our college days. Jack fully lives up to it.

     So, of all the things to happen, the least expected happens. An emergency tracheostomy was performed, near Halloween day 1998, in a hospital in Charlotte NC, on our second son when he was 6 months old. The Dr who performed it said his esophagus was 80% blocked by a subglotic hemangioma, which is fancy for growth in the throat that blocks your airway and ability to breath. Oh, and he would not be able to speak until much later on, because the trach was below his larynx, and air needs to pass over it to make sound.

Ironically, the child we name "mouthpiece of God" is stricken before he is one with a tumor that prohibits speech. It felt like the devil wanted to nip this one in the bud, literally.

To be continued...

Finding Lost Things

     Here is my next Ebenezer stone, and we have many of these. I say "we" for I have to include my family on this, because they are gathering their own stones on this particular topic.
     We lose things. We lose a lot of things. Toys. Keys. Cell phones. Nintendo DS's. Library books. Food. Files. Jump drives. IRS tax documents. Resumes. Buttons. Bills. Glasses. Tweezers. Passwords. Bug spray. I frequently leave that somewhere. Oh, and toe nail clippers. Don't forget those. You name it. We've probably lost it.
    Quite a few years ago, however, we got into the habit of praying to find things. It probably started out of desperation over the fear of astronomical library late fees, but regardless, pray we did. We would ask Jesus to please help us remember where _____ was, and thank Him ahead of time for helping to show us or bring it to our memory. "If you have faith like a child..." You know?
     I always thought it was really cool that our subconscious minds purportedly remember everything, including all our senses, from every moment of our lives. So, if something is lost, simply because our conscious minds happen to "forget" where it is, then theoretically somewhere in that lovely subconscious is the object, immortalized and standing there, right under our proverbial souls' nose, if you will...That delighted me, and so employing my child-like faith, I delight to ask Our Father where the object is. How He shows us is sometimes very funny. I love irony, and I do believe God employs that majestically in these cases as well.

     My husband and children employ the strategy, with great results. I love to hear about the items found. The jump drive remembered. The DS, suddenly discovered after weeks of being lost, turns up in the trunk of the car and Mario *Jack* Andretti Cart is once again gleefully played. Lost allowance was the latest refound item: after almost 2 days of not being able to find a months' worth of allowance, and praying to find it, our daughter discovered her little pink key chain change keeper, attached to her sandals in our entry way closet, of all places, while she was looking for sandals. Who would have thought? We give thanks to Christ, for all the little things, because those little things add up to a big faith when one takes stock of all the times He has cared for even the tiniest of needs.
   
     So, I have to share my favorite lost and found story, because it is just the most comical and the longest item lost. I can't say that I didn't give up hope we would ever find this.
     It's the story of the lost library book.
     Being home schoolers, we rely heavily on the county library system. We are quite the regulars, are familiar with the library workers, and love to inter-library loan. I can find all sorts of gems through the electronic card catalog, and we enjoy utilizing it to fulfill reading lists.
     Hence, a notorious book was lost. Can't remember the name, but it was nonfiction, to explore some historical aspect of the curriculum we were studying. It was discovered to be lost, however, on the due date, even though I swore I collected all the books (even counting them to compare to the number online that the library said I had checked out), and could have been sure I turned it in with the others days before.
     So, I did what any sane person in that predicament would do. I "checked it out" again, by renewing it online. Simple click of a button, and there you have it: 3 more weeks time are bought, and you hope you find it in the mean time.
     But something in the back of my head nagged me, that I had turned it in, along with all the other books, originally. Anyhow, I prayed and searched for the book, and waited.
     The book did not show up. I repeated this process for almost 6 months, growing more frustrated and more frustrated. I begged the kids to find it. I scoured the house. I tried to bribe them with money. I tried everything, including searching obscure ridiculous locations everywhere, for the lost nonfiction juvenile book. All to no avail.
     Eventually I gave up the hunt, and asked how much it would cost to pay the lost item fee. It was definitely not ideal, but that book was not showing up, so I figured it was time to face the music.
     It was during my last round of "renewing" the book online, that the children and I were in a small town on the other side of the county that we used to frequent when we lived on that side of town. While we were there, we decided to go back and visit our old library and see one of our favorite librarians who had always been so kind. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to check out a few books, notorious late book loser that I was.
     We saw the librarian and enjoyed catching up, then began to peruse the books. Our boys love comic book collections, so we went into the adult book section and walking leisurely around when behold, a book was sticking out of a shelf obtrusively. I will put it this way: if my hair had been in my face like it so often is, I could have run into it at eye level. I stopped to peer at the book and then adjust it back onto the shelf, and discovered shockingly that it was the famous book. The long lost book. There it was, shelved incorrectly at the library across town from the library it was obtained from, and just as ill-placed as it could be. Directly in front of me.
     I burst out laughing. Almost a belly laugh. I turned it over and over, and held it up in the air like the Holy Grail. I called the boys to come over and see, that yes indeed, it was the correct book. Gathering them and the baby at the time, we marched triumphantly over to the desk, and politely asked if we could check on the book's status. The librarian obliged and commented that it was still checked out, and I immediately said I would like to check it back in, barely containing the hilarity. I could not help but wonder aloud how that could have all happened, but gathering from speculation, we surmised that someone must have thought they checked the book in and was mistaken. That it was still placed on the shelf, in the wrong library no less, but I just happened to choose to visit that day, was epic.
     At that point, I didn't really care for vindication or anything; I was just glad to see it come and very shortly go. The irony was exceedingly amusing: I couldn't believe that of all places, it was actually back at a library, all that time. The great book hunt was over. I was cleared, and I apologized to the kids for harassing them to find a book that was not in our possession.
     I have probably lost things and not been able to find them, but for the life of me I can't recall anything of significance.
     The experience of almost 6 months of the case of the missing library book taught me that no matter how lost something is, God can make it show up, to the right person at the right time, in unbelievable ways. He is simply amazing. He cares about even the smallest of things. I won't ever forget, and if I do, I hope and pray the boys will remind me. We still giggle about it because we have an inconvenient experience over book returns, that in the end, still makes us pause to glorify God Himself. I like to think that He was setting that book apart for the work He had planned, to simply bring me to consider. If He would go to that much trouble to help me find a library book, how much does that demonstrate the vastness of Our Father's love?

You're right, Jon Acuff. Just Start.

There is no day like today to begin. After revealing to my daughter that she could be anything in the world that she wanted to be, I gathered my courage and explained I'd always wanted to be a published writer since I was young. The hypocrisy of my predictable, static life hit me.
How can I tell her something like that when I haven't done it myself?

So here goes.
This will be the first of many written Ebenezer stones I've gathered over the years, heart keepsakes from a child collecting souvenirs of interactions with the Divine.

It generally starts off with a problem.

This is a humble place that I live in. We are weak creatures. Perhaps not many will be able to identify with us- my dear Moshe and I. But the few who will, I hope you will be blessed, quickened, and encouraged to begin your own journey of collecting Ebenezer stones.

It's all for God's glory, to be sure. I wish simply to observe, and share, what He is doing on a personal level with us, and hopefully be a blessing to others on this sometimes hard journey of life we all share.

One of the first times it hit me~ Gods' sheer kindness, was in the Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte, NC. It was during the week after Halloween, 1998. The Charlotte Hornets still existed. Our second son was about 8 months old, and he had just been given an emergency tracheostomy due to a tumor in his windpipe that had blocked his airway about 80%. The news hit my husband and I like a wall of cement blocks. 3-5 years of laser surgeries every six months or so, and we could hope that the tumor would be reduced, but until then, our son, named Elias to be "the mouthpiece of God", would have a trach and not talk without special decices, and speech therapy was the least of our problems.
They pumped him full of medications, and after an emergency tracheostomy, he spent days in Pediatric ICU. Then we were left with him on the regular ward with nurses coming by checking on him to see that he recovered from the surgery.
My husband and I had to take shifts to watch over him. He had to work still, and thankfully, my in-laws came and took our older son to their home to visit during our time of crisis.
The dust from the shock settled.
I was left alone, watching our small child lay, strapped to a hospital bed to prevent movement that would damage his new tracheostomy, and my soul collapsed within me with grief and I wept on his bedside.
In that brief moment in time, between quiet sobs (I didn't want to wake our baby), I didn't have much real conscious thought. Just a clear, agonizing sorrow for our child, and the whole scary scenario of what if's.
After a while, the tears slowed. Suddenly and oddly, more than anything in the world, like a little child myself, I simply craved a piece of Chocolate. A small Kit-Kat, to be exact.
Within a few moments, there was a hustling down the hallway. Apparently, someone important was on the floor.
I peaked my head out the door, and noticed men in costumes walking down the hall and going into rooms. Myself being very shy, I dreaded the thought of visitors in my blubbery state, and quickly withdrew my head.
I sat back down beside my sons' bed, but hadn't very long till the visitors came into the room.
The nurse accompanying them smiled big as she introduced them. They were someone important from the local basketball team--manager or owner of the Charlotte Hornets, and one was short and one was tall, and the short one was wearing a Superman outfit. They were passing out candy to the children on the pediatric wing of the hospital.
Like an idiot, I said my baby was too young for candy, and he was on liquids anyway.
They smiled and spoke briefly, then gave me the candy instead.


I thanked them, embarrassed and blustery because I knew my eyes were swollen, and they parted.

After they left, I sat there and thought the whole thing was nice but kind of surreal, and then looked at the pieces of candy in my hand. Tragedy and irony danced inside my heart.
There was a small Kit-Kat. Just like I had pictured in my heart moments before.
In that moment, time was suspended, and I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that God Almighty saw me in the hospital room: alone, tired, scared and weak. Fragile. But He knew exactly what to do, and how to move Heaven and earth to show me He was and is very much there, Almighty, powerful, and bursting with Love. Perfect Love.
I opened that Kit Kat, like Charlie discovering the wrapper of gold, and knew that no matter what, God was there with me, and my tiny mustard seed of faith emboldened and began to grow.