Fall

I adore Autumn. I love the bleached long grass against the evergreen coniferous trees next to the changing leaves of the deciduous as low fog clings to the earth and the sunlight peeks through the still full branches. I love the dark grey of the sky as it threatens to rain, the cool mornings and heated afternoons. I love the sunflowers just visible over all the fences and the apples and pears adorning each bushy fruit tree. I love the spices and the want of a warm fire and hot chocolate as you snuggle up next to your sweetheart in your favorite sweater while reading a good book. I love all the rich food featuring spectacular colors as well as every kind of squash imaginable and this wonderous time when orange, yellow, green, and brown can all come together without being a terrible 70's throwback. I adore Autumn.

I could wax on and on about how enamored I am with the season. I like Spring when all the green comes out and Summer is lovely with all it's sunshine and water fun and a true Winter with lots of snow is always appreciated. But there is nothing like Autumn. It's a time to be busy, a time for family, a time to appreciate all you have as you come back to earth after a selfish Summer. I love every piece of it. And I love that this is the first real season Rory is getting to experience. I think he looks so handsome in his long-sleeved onsies, pants, and shoe-looking socks. I would put him in a scarf if I thought he wouldn't try to eat it and get fuzzies in his mouth.

My sweet little boy is beginning to laugh. He likes when you kiss him while his mouth open and it makes that echoing noise or when we rustle the comforter above his head. But mostly he laughs at himself when he is alone on a mat while we are occupied elsewhere. Apparently, he thinks he's hilarious. He fuses for appropriate reasons; hungry, sleepy, full diaper. He makes funny faces and likes to pretend that he is Popeye. He will look for Mark or I when he hears our voices. He would rather sleep in our bed with us, but does alright in his hammock. He loves practicing holding his head up on his own and when we help him stand or sit up. He entertains himself alright, unless, of course, he wants to be held - then you better damn well hold him. His cries have become distinct for what he needs. And he loves to snuggle.

Rory Heleuma

I am watching the hair on his head grow. It's funny, you never really see yourself growing, you just look in the mirror one day and you've changed. It's almost startling. But with a baby, you are watching them grow each and every moment of everyday. That moment Rory holds his head up on his own for a minute or so, when he laughs at something we do, when he turns his head to look for where the sound is coming from, when he is officially too long for all of his newborn clothes and we have to think about putting them away. These are the moments that make up a life. The moments you remember you have zero control and all that control you pretend you have is really just that - pretend.

Mark lost his job last week without notice, "bad economy and all." Imaginary control lost. This has become an excellent opportunity to put our trust in God, an excellent and terrifying opportunity. Too often we rely on ourselves and say "Don't worry about it, God, I've got this one." But that isn't what He wants. He wants us to come to Him in all things, not just the things we think we need help with at this particular moment in time. One paycheck is an excellent reminder of how the control we think we have is entirely pretense. That isn't to say we should just sit back and let God do all the work. We should take every opportunity to seek out purpose and work, but by faith - not merely works. This morning I went out to the car to discover a dew soaked envelope with cash inside. We have no idea where or who it came from. But thank you, whoever you are. A great reminder of the kindness of others and the providence of God.

My husband continues to be the sunlight to my Superman. He builds me up and rejuvenates my spirit. He takes shifts in the night, diaper changes, snuggles, and burping with Rory. He talks me down from my self deprecating high horse and tells me I'm beautiful. I only half believe him and only half of the time. I want my body back and I want it back now. I feel awkward and uncomfortable and just generally awful about myself - I'm not fishing for compliments, but feel free to leave any you feel led to! Marko is an unbelievable source of strength and relief. He is such a loyal husband, I really have no idea what I would do without him. He speaks into my life like no one else.

Quelle suprise!

I have recently learned to type with a sleeping baby in my arms (the trick is to sit him upright in your lap and lean him against your elbow). This is by far the task I am most proud of accomplishing with Rory, though my favorite is that I can make coffee in the early morning with him on my arm - coffee always wins out. It's nice having him in my arms while I type though, his sweet face angled up at me as he brings my core temperature up so a sweater is unnecessary. I've been freezing ever since giving birth - so holding him evens me out again. People always used to tell me, "Wait until you have kids, then you'll understand." But I'm not sure I do. I love my son, he is the most wonderful gift. But it's not a love greater than any I've ever known. My first love is always going to be God - overwhelming and all-consuming, it always should be. My second love is Mark. He is my husband, made for me as I am made for him and if he is not my second, how will my son ever grow up knowing or treasuring romantic love? Rory is solidly third. My love for him is beautiful and deep, but it's not something I suddenly understand now that I have him. I have always known I would have him, therefore he has always been my third. He surprises me, for sure, and I enjoy every fleeting moment! But becoming a parent has not changed the way I view the world. Maybe that's just me, because I've always "had kids." Not my own, but I cherished them as such and perhaps Rory is an exemplification of each of them. Then again, maybe I just still don't understand.

We've been in fairly consistent contact with the ECC and so far, it looks good for us. Missionary life, here we come (hopefully)! I have no doubt we'll go, but I am praying we have finally found the avenue to get there. The issue has recently arisen about whether or not it is responsible to take our 7 week old son into the mission field. The answer to that question is that it is far more irresponsible not to. We are giving our child unprecedented opportunity to grow up with a world view not dictated by "the American dream" or western media, while still having those things available to him. We are giving him a global education and a multi-cultural upbringing so that he might have a better understanding for the rest of the world. He has the benefit of having western medicine and education along with that of the third world (which can be equally as valuable). We are never going to intentionally put him in immediate danger abroad, just as we would never put him in immediate danger here in the US (walking through Belltown after a certain hour, taking him to a violent 99% rally, getting into a vehicle with an inebriated driver, etc.). We aren't taking our son to a war ridden corner of the world where genocide runs rampant and caucasians are discriminated against. - But even if we were... there are children in those corners of the world. And don't we want to teach our son true equality? Don't we want to teach him that he is of the same value as those children and to help them in anyway we can? Isn't that the responsible thing to do? To teach him compassion and love for all peoples, even those in violent places? I'm not saying everyone is called to what we are called to, I'm just saying that my call is just as important as yours so please don't make it seem less or less responsible than the choices you made/make. They are just different. As they should be.

My baby is awake, so I am going to go snuggle with him and my husband. Because I love them more than you... I'm not sorry about it! But I love you also, dearly and deeply. Find your call, dear reader, and follow it to the furtherest part of your heart and back again. Don't let anyone tell you it isn't as important as theirs, because they're wrong. Live your own dreams and let those around you live theirs!