One could go on and on forever talking about anything, but I'll just touch on it here.

Friday, June 27, 2014

Action Compassion

I am not a compassionate person.

Stop. This is not the time to elevate my ego by piling on the comments on my blog saying, "Annie, what are you talking about? You are so kind, sweet, etc." You weren't planning on doing that? OK. Cool. I'll go back to trying to be humble.

This morning I read a couple of posts about compassion, and it reminded me that for most of my life I have ached to be compassionate and put it as number one each day. And I fail and fail and fail. Or I do something selfless and feel great about it (feeling great is OK; just so you know I do believe that but it totally smashes all thoughts of humility!) and then go back to wanting to slap all the idiots out there.

Alright, stop again. I had to—even though I just read these beautifully expressed articles about what compassion is—look up the dictionary definition. Merriam-Webster online: "sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it." Right, so I guess I am compassionate. But I don't want to just have a "consciousness of others' distress." I want, what the articles talked about, action compassion. I want to put the desire into action. So let me start over.

I am not an action-compassionate person.

If I truly were then I would live it not just talk about it or maybe do nice things once in awhile. Compassion would ooze out of me. And if it did, then my son would sense it and just know about compassion because he would see me live it, speak it, know that I must think it. And that is the way, as I agree with what I read this morning, to help my son grow as an action-compassionate person.

What does it look like? I believe it needs to start with God because I'm too selfish on my own. God can show me when and where and how. Then I don't have to move to Africa, join the Peace Corps, or send Geddy on as many mission trips as possible before he graduates high school—unless they are God-led actions.

Sigh, but how do I know what God is calling me to do? Maybe he isn't calling. Maybe, as my husband was recently reminding me, I need to open up and look and listen for where God is working and join in.

So that's the new outlook I'm striving for. Look, listen, and leap, and put compassion into action.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Birthday One

All those words people say: cherish these moments, babies grow quickly; time flies; you blink and he's grown; someday soon you will long for those sleepless nights by his crib. Now our baby boy is one, and I do agree that time has a warped sense of humor. However, this sleepy mommy is also wondering why she's running on empty just like the first few weeks of the baby's life.

Ah, Geddy, you are one! One whole year of life and it feels like ten years or only five minutes, all in the same breath! I read back over all my journal entries and scribbled notes from this year and look at all those pictures I took of you and think about all those minutes and hours of your precious life and I sit and sigh and say, "Wow."

My notebook is full of details on nursing—how often, for how long each time—and numbers of wet and poopy diapers per day plus descriptions of color and quantity! Baby books are written in and dog eared, showing what I looked up and poured over daily. Then there are the words about when you smiled, giggled, held a toy, rolled over, ate solid food, stood up, and got a tooth.

As I type this I also reflect on the countless hours spent/wasted/worried scanning web sites and blogs with all sorts of questions I had about baby sleep, poop, illness, and temperament. This while you nursed, slept in your bassinet, or slept on me. But I learned best by watching you and getting to know you every minute.

You've gone from sleeping most of the day and lying around on the floor to throwing fits to go outside and crawl in the gravel and lick rocks, chase ants, and pick flowers. You used to fall asleep regularly on walks and now you sing and kick your feet and get excited about straws at Starbucks.

Your first bath at home was difficult as we tried to hold you up in the sink and wash around your healing belly button. Now bath time includes Rubber Ducky, lots of splashing, and sometimes wailing when you have to get out because you are turning into a prune.

Some not too distant months ago I could bring you into bed between your daddy and me and you would nurse and then fall back asleep. Lately you make us into your jungle gym and will not cuddle and sleep or rest because 6 AM is GET UP! time.

As a tiny tot you would stay put in the middle of the floor while your daddy played guitar and you kicked your legs and danced with all your might. Now you try to play the guitar, too, and go after all the cords and wires and pedals, changing the sounds and the volume.

When you first tried solid foods you made faces, but for your birthday you tried to devour your cinnamon roll in one bite. You also put peas in your hair and try to feed me your squishy banana bits.

Every day you become more you.

Year two, here's to walking, talking, and getting into mischief. Here's to playgrounds, camping, and the beach. Here's to reading, dancing, and playing with friends. Here's to Geddy.