Friday, January 28, 2011

Happy Birthday!


To the Delight of My Heart,
you have brought more joy than one could imagine. Everyday I fall deeper in love with you and your enjoyment of life. You wake happy and happily rested. Even when you feel terrible with sickness you cannot pass up a moment to dance. From the moment of your birth you had a song to sing. You are the most easy going, carefree, "everything is great or will be momentarily" little guy I know. Even your newborn cry seemed to only request, never demand. You have taught me to smile more, dance more and to relish every little cuddle. You are the purest joy this side of heaven. You are truly sensitive to the mysterious of Faith, with your first word being Jesus and asking to venerate the cross not long after.
It is bittersweet, My Angel, to let you grow up. I pray you will always keep a joyful soul and will continue to spread joy.

I love you!







Happy Birthday, Avery Robert!


Thursday, January 27, 2011

Big Boy!

Paul Thomas is stubborn! Yes this might surprise some of you that my child could be stubborn, but he is. He likes new things to be his idea not the suggestion of a mere parent. I have learned that once he decides to do something he is all in. "Potty Training" was like that. I talked it up for six months and even tried a handful of times, but only made it to the threshold of two accidents a day. Then one day he announced he was ready for big boy underwear and was dry day and night for the first week with only two accidents! Getting dressed has been the same. I know he is old enough and capable of at least helping, but he has refused. So I patiently, and sometimes not so patiently, get him dressed. Today he needed no help.



Even with socks!


He even helped Avery put socks on his cold feet.


I didn't have the heart to tell him he put his head on backwards.

 

Big Brothers are awesome!
Posted by Picasa

Friday, January 21, 2011

Friday Photo Favorites

A Hero's Tale


Brought to you by Uncle Stephen's awesome gifts.


There once was a knight, who got pulled over for galloping too fast.


As Officer Blaxton fiddled with his handcuffs who should sneak up, but a...


ROARing dragon.


A knight must always be prepared!
And for the extra insurance, stick out your tongue in spite or concentration.


Ummm...slayed dragons usually don't smile.


Much better, Dragon.


Our Hero.


Thursday, January 20, 2011

Shopping Spree?

We had our first sonogram on Friday to determine the age of the baby. (NFP strikes again and accurately pin-pointed the due-date even in the midst of a crazy nursing cycle, much to the dismay of the nurses and doctors who think they are the only ones who have knowledge of my body! Thus the sonogram.)  Now, on to the post. Our little one looks a lot more like a sister than a brother. That said, hold off on getting too attached or loosening those purse strings. We are only at 16 weeks and, well, there is still a bit of development left. If another sonogram is in order we will let everyone know. (I am pulling for a girl because all our baby boy clothes are at the very bottom, farthest corner of our storage unit. "Girl" means shopping, not digging!)

I was initially trying to withhold this information as a means to guard my heart. I really thought that Avery was Adelaide and it took a moment to lose her in order to gain him.  But like most joys it is just too hard not to share.  I am looking forward to mothering little giggly girls, but understand that God is always in charge.

We are excited to welcome O.A. around June 30.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Friday Photo Favorites



Combines harvesting corn.


Posted by Picasa

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Raising Catholic Children

Over heard by Gia:

Avery, "Wine!"

Paul Thomas, "Oh, that's wine?!"

Avery, "Wine."

Paul Thomas, "Oh is that wine for Mass or is that wine to drink with dinner?"



Friday, January 7, 2011

Friday Photo Favorites

Bucking umm...Duck and Seahorse?


Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Why Government Matters

The following post is intended to disparage only those political ideologies explicitly identified and any extrapolations to the current political landscape, except those of the most general kind concerning the nature of the governance of humans, are the responsibility of the reader solely.

For the past 4 years, I've been engrossed, to the greatest practical extent, in the writings of a man who, humanly speaking, is my hero. Alexandr Solzhenitsyn's magnus opus is The GULAG Archipelago in which he examines every facet of the behemoth prison system of the Soviet Union from 1918 to 1954. His sources are 270-plus first-hand accounts from his fellow prisoners; his style blurs the distinction between the horrible and the ridiculous. Yet, despite the terror of the content, Solzhenitsyn is able to maintain an air of divine hopefulness and even humor.

In the chapter entitled The Dogs' Service, in the fourth of seven books, Solzhenitsyn paints the portrait of the relationship between the prisoners and the camp guards. The convoy guards, responsible for the prisoners marching to, from and while at the work-site outside of the camp grounds exercised a special level of tyranny:

"Convoy service...was like front-line service. The convoy had nothing to fear from any investigation, and did not have to give any explanations. Every convoy guard who fired his rifle was right. Every prisoner killed was guilty....
At the gatehouse, a zek [abbreviation of the Russian term for prisoner] ran up to a guard with a release document (he was going to be released the next day) and asked: "Let me through, I am going to the laundry. I'll only be a minute!" "You can't." "But tomorrow I'm going to be free, fool!" The guard shot him dead. Killed. And there wasn't even a trial.
And how easy it was for a prisoner not to notice in the heat of his work those blazes on the trees which constituted an imaginary dotted line, a forest cordon instead of barbed wire. For example, Solovyov cut down a fir tree and, moving backward, was cleaning the branches off it. He saw only his felled tree. And the convoy guard squinted and waited. He wouldn't call out to the zek, "Watch out!" He just waited, and Solovyov, not noticing, crossed the line of the work zone, continuing to back his way down the tree trunk. A shot! An explosive bullet and a lung was blown apart. Solovyov was killed and the Tonshayevo [camp guard] was given a hundred ruble prize."

Solzhenitsyn's primary goal here is not to evoke feelings of pity or even sympathy for the innumerable innocent Russians sent to labor camps for being "politically hostile." No, the 1975 Nobel Literature Prize winner is concerned for the guard and what kind of person his "service" has made him. He writes,

"The absoluteness in the relations between the convoy and the prisoners, this continual right of the guards to use a bullet instead of a word, could not fail to influence the character of the VOKhR officers and enlisted men as well. The lives of the prisoners were given into their power, though not for the whole day, yet totally and profoundly."

How can a man who spent 10 years in the GULAG prison system and 20 more in exile from his home be concerned for the spiritual well-being of those brutal "wolves," as he calls the camp guards?

His point is that the 60 million zeks who lost their lives in the camps were not the only victims of the totalitarian Communist Stalinist regime. Even the lowly guards who were "doing the work of the State" came to loose all sense of humanity, whether it be that of a zek or even their own. The loss of human life in Soviet Russia is staggering, but the loss of human souls is perhaps an even greater tragedy.

Is the state responsible for its citizens' souls? Yes--insofar as government is constituted by men. Why should those in positions of political power be any less concerned with their constituents' well-being--be it economic, physical or spiritual--than one's next-door neighbor? Obviously, the role of the Church ought not to be usurped by civil authority, but can anyone doubt that Josif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili (Stalin's birth name) will answer for the soul of those young convoy guards?

Pray for our leaders.