Monday, May 10, 2010


have you ever received one of those back handed compliments
like this?

"lea, you're hair looks so pretty . . ."

then, before you can say, "why, thank you very much!"

"i mean, it's not nearly as frizzy as usual !"

yep.  yesterday.

the way i see it, there are a few responses to what i call having
been "scarletted."

the first is the "respond in kind" reply and has many variations
of this:

"well, fiddle dee dee!  scarlett, i thought you were about to give
a sincere compliment for a change.  silly old me." this one is very

another tried and true reply is the "gomer pyle":

"for shame, for shame, for shame!  didn't your mama never tell
you?  'if you cain't say somethin' nice, don't say nuthin' at all!' "
this one might be fun for some, but most people don't like to be
'for shamed.'

the one i recommend though, is the one all of our mothers taught
us, taking the high road:

"oh . . ." it's important to leave a pregnant pause, because you
want scarlett to know you perceived the slight.  after all, you're
not stupid.  then follow that with:

"well, i always think your hair looks pretty."


ps. "in doing this you will heap burning coals on his (her) head."
proverbs 25:22


my water broke almost a month early with our firstborn.   my labor
was remarkably unremarkable and before we knew it, we heard our
first baby's cry.

when the nurse placed him in my arms, i said some inconsequential
mommy thing, like, "hey there, sweet boy . . ." and he immediately
grew very still and turned to me.

that he knew me was the defining moment of my life.

it seemed horribly unfair of the nurse to whisk him away again to
clean him up and do some unpleasant things to me.  i kept looking
expectantly to the door each time someone came in.  doctor, doctor,
nurse, nurse, and then my dad, who was also a doctor.

he, at least, would tell them to hurry up and give me back my baby.
but instead he was painfully somber and said, "honey, something is
wrong with the baby, and they have taken him up to the NICU."
my dad, in fact, was the first to notice our baby's shallow, panting
breathing pattern.

that was the second defining moment of my life.

what followed were terrifying talks with neo-natal doctors who told
us that our baby had a life threatening infection and they offered little
hope they could save him.  they would, however, perform surgery
and let us know how he progressed.

hans and i clung to each other and the Lord like never before and felt
Him say, "just trust Me."   we truly did not have the faith to claim a
healing or the strength to do more than lean on Him.  we named him
isaac, as we felt that we were "abraham" trusting the Lord to provide.

today isaac is 26 years old, 6'7'' tall, incredibly handsome, charming,
and kind.  he won't be able to know how much we love him, until he
has his first son.

the only thing i worry about is whether he, as a lawyer, will sue me
someday for writing this.


"sons are a heritage of the Lord."  psalm 127:3