Wednesday, April 20, 2011

A Letter to our Son

(Written for Caleb's baby dedication on May 15th):

Dear Caleb,

In Hebrew, the name "Caleb" means "faithful, devoted, whole-hearted." The Caleb for whom you were named was a warrior with a heart for God. As spies in the land of Canaan, only Caleb and Joshua trusted God's promises to the Israelites. Caleb was loyal to God when others ran in fear; he was fearless in the face of overwhelming odds.

When we gave you this name, we had no idea how well it would fit you. You certainly have embraced life whole-heartedly and you are fearless in exploring your world. You have your own set of overwhelming odds that you don't understand yet but, at 15 months, you already shoulder the daily burden with a resilience that amazes and humbles us. Through your eyes we get to experience the wonder of God's creation as you discover new things every day. You have brought so much joy to our lives; we cannot imagine our family without your precious smile and infectious laugh.

You are a gift, Caleb. God created you exactly as you are for a very special purpose. As your parents, our greatest hope is that you will come to love the Lord with all of your heart and you will devote yourself to seeking His will for your life. God has entrusted your upbringing to us and we soberly accept the responsibility of guiding you into adulthood. We pray that you will strive to bring glory to God in all you do; as your parents, we commit to bring you up in a home that seeks the Lord above all else.

To that end, we promise to show you with our own lives what it means to have an intimate relationship with our Savior, Jesus Christ. You will see your parents "bring the full tithe into the storehouse" with joy and thanksgiving for God's provision. You will see your parents praying and reading our Bibles. You will know by our actions that we love and respect each other, and that we put our faith and trust in God alone. You will attend church regularly and will be involved in Bible study as you get older. And you will have our support and encouragement in whatever God calls you to when you are a man.

We love you as only parents can, and we pray for you without ceasing. We trust that your story will be one of faith in God and whole-hearted devotion to his call. We commit ourselves to raise you with the hopeful expectation that the Lord will accomplish mighty things in and through your life.

With love,

Your Parents

Jeremiah 17:7-8:

"But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A Typical Morning

A recent post on one of my favorite blogs (dooce.com - parental advisory - contains many, many curse words) inspired me to blog about a typical morning in the Sprinkle household. The only reason I have the stamina to even think about this is because we are currently on spring break.

So, a typical day starts at 5:00am. This is what one refers to as an "ungodly hour." No human being should ever get up at this time of day. I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the shower, hoping that Darrell is almost finished (he gets up 10 minutes before me, the poor man). Shower, blow dry, apply makeup, get dressed - all the while hoping, praying, and keeping everything crossed that Caleb does not wake up. Because if Caleb wakes up, all bets are off.

Next comes 10 precious minutes of quiet. If I have properly prepared the night before, I can pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee (thank you auto-brew feature) and do a little facebook stalking. Then I get Caleb's breathing treatment ready, everything plugged in, and cartoons turned on. Caleb usually gets up without too much fuss, and if I play my cards right, I can get him strapped into his vest and hooked up and both machines going before he's fully awake. If he gets fully awake before all of this happens, again, all bets are off.

Thirty minutes later, treatments are done. Bags and lunches go in the car, and then it's upstairs to get Joshua out of bed and dressed. I (probably stupidly) leave Caleb downstairs during this process. By the time Joshua and I make it back downstairs, it looks like a tornado hit the living room. It's like Caleb knows he only has a limited amount of time to do as much damage as possible - and he is very talented at multitasking.

Now comes the putting on of jackets and shoes. For those of you who do not have young children, you don't realize the sheer amount of willpower it takes to put a jacket on a 14 month old and not succumb to the temptation to do violence. All the while Joshua is bemoaning the fact that "the sun is not up, why am I?" I don't have a good answer to that question because, as I mentioned before, this time of morning is just impossible.

Everyone into the car and buckled; remaining coffee re-heated and in the car (as opposed to on top of the car, which has happened on more than one occasion. Joshua now reminds me, "Mom, did you get your coffee off the roof of the car?") and we're off to Miss Jamie's.

It takes five to ten minutes to get both kids into our wonderful babysitter's house. She allows me to come a little before her regular drop off time because I would never make it to work on time otherwise. A couple of minutes sharing pertinent information (last time Caleb ate - generally sometime around 1:00 or 2:00am) and not-so-important information (the state of our sinuses given the latest pollen count), and I'm back in the car headed to work.

If all has gone well, I am pulling out of Miss Jamie's driveway no later than 7:02. Any later than that, and I have no prayer of making it to work by 7:30. I drive through something like 124 traffic lights on my way to work (see previous post about the nimrods who don't know how to drive on a four-lane highway) and I inevitably get stopped at every light if I'm running even two minutes late.

You can imagine how I look when I finally arrive at work. Disheveled doesn't even begin to cover it. If it weren't for a constant stream of coffee, I would not even be coherent. Close my eyes, take a deep breath, say a little prayer, and... wait, is that the bell ringing? Oh crap.....


Thankful

Dear Senator Collins (and McCain), My seven year old son Caleb has cystic fibrosis and I want to THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for...