My son is still 6 weeks away from making his grand appearance (Well, hopefully. Katie's been having major Braxton Hicks--that's pre-labor contractions for all the obstetrically-unaware out there.) and he's already teaching me important lessons.
Most parents are big on the naming process. We've never fought about names like some parents-to-be. We've been fortunate in that sense. Katie and I really enjoyed coming up with Eden and Avery's names, and we're pretty big on meanings. Our children are an extension of us. As parents, we feel it's vital that their names carry a spiritual significance beyond a few letters strung together.
We loved that Eden Rene's name meant "paradise reborn". Avery Kate was a bit trickier. Depending on what link you click off of Google's search you could get "pure wisdom" or more commonly "elf ruler". We like the former more than the latter. Although, if we're honest, the latter is kinda cool, too, especially when she prances around the house, donning crown and wand (sometimes a stick--whatever works).
We love the name Ari'el for our son. I know what you're thinking, "This dude's gonna name his son after the Little Mermaid!? His boy will be scarred for life." Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, too, over a bed of Sebastian's, "Under the Sea". The more Katie and I think about it, though, the more we'd like that to be his name, regardless of the stereotype.
Ari'el is spelled the same as Disney's underwater princess but the pronunciation is different. Other than the über-protective, Jamaican-accented red crab, characters in the movie pronounce Ariel with a long "a" sound (air-e-l). Ari'el is pronounced with the "r" sound (r-e-l). There's also a bit of a pause at the apostrophe. Ari--el. In Hebrew El means "God" and Ari means "lion". I love the power in my son's name. Regardless of all the rationale we've come up with, his name reflects a background we believe Ari will come to represent; it feels right to both of us.
What's more important in the long run? Ari's 3rd grade teacher mispronouncing his name and the class having a bit of laugh or Ari forever seeing his full name written and hopefully taking pride in the meaning? Besides, in 10 years "The Little Mermaid" may be so outdated no one will even remember the characters. Oh, wait, I forgot about remakes.
22 March 2012
17 March 2012
Just Dance
I've loved to dance ever since I was kid. The Michael Jackson concert-for-one memory is probably fonder for me than my mom. Now, I'm not the personality type that will start a circle at a party and show off any moves, but I love to dance with my wife at weddings or when Damien Rice finds a way to sneak his way out of our home's speakers. Lately, though, Damien and Norah Jones have been replaced by Tchaikovsky, and Eden and Avery have stolen the dance floor.
Eden was bitten by the ballet bug this past Christmas. Avery followed her big sis and now both are smitten. Sure, they were dancing before. Bob Marley and Two Door Cinema Club were favs, and we'll still throw on some hip-hop mixes every now and then, but this is different. Their passion for dance has skyrocketed to a whole other level thanks to our Russian comrade.
I'm not sure how much Swan Lake my earlobes can handle, but does it really matter? My kids' hearts (and bodies for that matter) are fired up about something wholesome, healthy, and rewarding. When I watch their little arms flail wildly or their short, skinny legs attempt a running air splits, my own heart soars and my soul rejoices. I've asked myself before, Why is dance so fulfilling--whether I'm watching my kids or even participating with them (Yes, I'll often play the part of Baryshnikov, but I don't do tights)? I think dance frees the soul from worldly inhibitions, the things kids could care less about. The worries about bills or health issues seem to lift like newly-inflated balloons. Cares of the world are drowned by the noise of laughter.
I think David, Israel's second king, understood this when he wrote his Psalms to the Lord. Music and dance were his refuge. Movement helped him to connect to God. It was his companion during those lonely years hiding from Saul in caves, fleeing for his life. And I'm sure dance stayed with him until his death as he continued to strive to please the heart of his God.
My kids remind me of this connection between dance and God every time their tiny toes hit the floor. I'm so thankful for their gift to me--the lesson that whenever I'm tired, frustrated, or filled with worry, all I have to do is ask them to dance.
Eden was bitten by the ballet bug this past Christmas. Avery followed her big sis and now both are smitten. Sure, they were dancing before. Bob Marley and Two Door Cinema Club were favs, and we'll still throw on some hip-hop mixes every now and then, but this is different. Their passion for dance has skyrocketed to a whole other level thanks to our Russian comrade.
I'm not sure how much Swan Lake my earlobes can handle, but does it really matter? My kids' hearts (and bodies for that matter) are fired up about something wholesome, healthy, and rewarding. When I watch their little arms flail wildly or their short, skinny legs attempt a running air splits, my own heart soars and my soul rejoices. I've asked myself before, Why is dance so fulfilling--whether I'm watching my kids or even participating with them (Yes, I'll often play the part of Baryshnikov, but I don't do tights)? I think dance frees the soul from worldly inhibitions, the things kids could care less about. The worries about bills or health issues seem to lift like newly-inflated balloons. Cares of the world are drowned by the noise of laughter.
I think David, Israel's second king, understood this when he wrote his Psalms to the Lord. Music and dance were his refuge. Movement helped him to connect to God. It was his companion during those lonely years hiding from Saul in caves, fleeing for his life. And I'm sure dance stayed with him until his death as he continued to strive to please the heart of his God.
My kids remind me of this connection between dance and God every time their tiny toes hit the floor. I'm so thankful for their gift to me--the lesson that whenever I'm tired, frustrated, or filled with worry, all I have to do is ask them to dance.
11 March 2012
Reckless Trust
Warmer days are approaching quickly and with them come sun-drenched afternoons lounging at the pool, except that I don't do as much "lounging" these days as I used to. Most of my poolside time is spent monitoring. Gone are the days of diving for dimes or napping on my floating island. Now I get a workout just tracking down my kids. Come April I'll have one more to keep tabs on. As a friend and fellow-father of three often says, "When we had three my wife and I had to switch from man-to-man to zone defense."
It's a bit easier now with Eden knowing how to swim, but Avery on the other hand...she has no concept of what it means to drown, so that makes watching her all the more difficult. The girl's been holding her breath underwater naturally since she was a baby. Only problem is she still sinks like a stone. You may be asking yourself, "How does he know that his child can hold her breath 'naturally'"?
As long as she could walk, Avery's had reckless trust. What I mean is that Avery has no fear. Perhaps it's because she is oblivious, but I think it's more than that. Avery is a carefree type of kid. Parents who have more than one child will know what I mean when I say there is a huge difference between the cautious, worry-wart type kid and a "the-world-is-a-bull-and-I'm-going-to-grab-it-by-the-horns" type of kid. This type of kid is so much fun to be around because they bring a great deal of joy and laughter into your life. The only problem with the "horn-grabbers" is that they easily get impaled if you're not vigilant.
Thus is the case with Avery and the pool. She'll just walk right off the ledge, not skipping a beat, and simply expect daddy to somehow transport 15 feet in a blink of an eye to scoop her up and give her more of that much-needed, life-giving element called "air". I'd pull her up expecting a choking infant, but instead was met by a smile stretched from ear to ear. If she could have talked, she probably would have said, "Can we do that again?" Instead, she simply just kept on doing it over and over again, and it used to baffle my mind. Now I simply admire her reckless trust.
I have a beautifully-staged photo of Italian actors portraying a scene of Jesus laughing at a man who looks to be hoarding his food. The man's face is stained with worry and fear. Jesus is belly-laughing because the man doesn't get it. The man's lost his sense of reckless trust. Every time I see that photo hanging in my kitchen I'm reminded that I should be like Avery: recklessly trusting and joyfully abandoned to my Heavenly Father's invitation--trust in Me; trust in My Spirit.
It's a bit easier now with Eden knowing how to swim, but Avery on the other hand...she has no concept of what it means to drown, so that makes watching her all the more difficult. The girl's been holding her breath underwater naturally since she was a baby. Only problem is she still sinks like a stone. You may be asking yourself, "How does he know that his child can hold her breath 'naturally'"?
As long as she could walk, Avery's had reckless trust. What I mean is that Avery has no fear. Perhaps it's because she is oblivious, but I think it's more than that. Avery is a carefree type of kid. Parents who have more than one child will know what I mean when I say there is a huge difference between the cautious, worry-wart type kid and a "the-world-is-a-bull-and-I'm-going-to-grab-it-by-the-horns" type of kid. This type of kid is so much fun to be around because they bring a great deal of joy and laughter into your life. The only problem with the "horn-grabbers" is that they easily get impaled if you're not vigilant.
Thus is the case with Avery and the pool. She'll just walk right off the ledge, not skipping a beat, and simply expect daddy to somehow transport 15 feet in a blink of an eye to scoop her up and give her more of that much-needed, life-giving element called "air". I'd pull her up expecting a choking infant, but instead was met by a smile stretched from ear to ear. If she could have talked, she probably would have said, "Can we do that again?" Instead, she simply just kept on doing it over and over again, and it used to baffle my mind. Now I simply admire her reckless trust.
I have a beautifully-staged photo of Italian actors portraying a scene of Jesus laughing at a man who looks to be hoarding his food. The man's face is stained with worry and fear. Jesus is belly-laughing because the man doesn't get it. The man's lost his sense of reckless trust. Every time I see that photo hanging in my kitchen I'm reminded that I should be like Avery: recklessly trusting and joyfully abandoned to my Heavenly Father's invitation--trust in Me; trust in My Spirit.
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