The Presidents: Mr. Jefferson I presume

Next on my quest for the Presidents was Mr. Jefferson, the 3rd President and possibly better known as the pen behind the Declaration of Independence. The book, Thomas Jefferson: American Sphinx, an interesting and very apt title!

The highlights of the Jeffersonian presidency in Jefferson's eyes were two fold. First the Louisiana purchase which doubled the size of the US overnight for a mere $15,000,000. Possibly the beginnings of America's love hate relationship with dictators, thanks Napoleon! The second was the retiring of the national debt while implementing the reduction of "big" government (the embryonic seeds of the Republican party).

Jefferson was a Deist who declared himself, "a Unitarian by myself." His self written epitaph states, "HERE WAS BURIED THOMAS JEFFERSON AUTHOR OF THE DECLARATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE OF THE STATUTE OF VIRGINIA FOR RELIGIOUS FREEDOM AND FATHER OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA."

Jefferson was a model figure of the Enlightenment which helped to define Jefferson's aspired values but often did not seem to inform his realized practice. Jefferson championed the ideals of liberty and justice, but had a row of slave quarters outside his estate at Monticello and was the driving catalyst of the removal of the native Indians from their lands. Jefferson hated debt, but died penniless because of his lavish lifestyle. Jefferson a great friend and admirer of the French upper class, condoned the butchery of the French mob as he thought it similar to the revolutionary spirit of "1776." Jefferson believed that working the land was the highest call and was suspicious of industrialization, yet Jefferson ran a nail making factory on his farm to subsidize his income. Jefferson cherished above all the ideal of family, but he isolated himself for a better part of his life from his children and ordered his life in such a fashion that he was rumored to have had sexual relations with a slave, Sally Hemings, whose children lived in slavery on Jefferson's plantation. Jefferson idealized Cicero's withdraw from politics into private life, but in the later years of his life Jefferson was consumed with writing his own biography to better reflect (and nuance his position in light of historical development) his personal political position to the eye of history.

JFK once quipped at a reception of 47 Nobel prize winners, "I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered at the White House - with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone." In light of Jefferson's political and intellectual brilliance, his life (and possibly character) are marked by inconsistency; for all of Jefferson's historical fame and glory, his personal life seems to have been marred by a lack of joy or happiness!

The Presidents: Mr. Adams

Having left the fertile fields of seminary, I have made it my ambition to read a book on every President in order to keep "the little gray cells" from falling dormant. My first subject to this end was David McCullough's John Adams. McCullough paints Adams in a very positive light and I found it easy to come to like the hearty New Englander.

[A painting of President John Adams (1735-1826), 2nd president of the United States, by Asher B. Durand (1767-1845)]

Five things you should know about John Adams:
1. While Jefferson was the pen behind the Declaration of Independence, Adams was the voice and juggernaut in the Continental Congress which drove the Declaration to be crafted
2. George Washington was nominated as the commander in chief of the colonial armies by Adams - a stroke of political genius as Washington was from the prominent state of Virginia
3. Adams was largely responsible for the bi-cameral government - Congress & House of Representatives
4. Adams was a great proponent of the Supreme Court - nominated John Marshal for Chief Justice
5. Politically Adams should probably be considered the father of the American Navy

Four Good Quotes:
Concerning study Adams cautioning J. Quincy Adams,

"The small of the midnight lamp is very unwholesome. Never defraud yourself of sleep, nor your walk. You need not now be in a hurry."

Concerning mystery,

"Admire and adore the Author of the telescopic universe, love and esteem the work, do all in your power to lesson ill, and increase good," he wrote in the margin of one of his books, "but never assume to comprehend."

Ever an optimist Adams (who was not popular in politics and buried several full grown children) wrote,

"Griefs upon griefs! Disappointments upon disappointments. what then? This is a gay, merry world notwithstanding."

Adam's fundamental creed,

"He who love the Workman and his work, and does what he can to preserve and improve it, shall be accepted of Him."

Three things worth emulating:

• Adams was a prolific reader and writer - his correspondence with T. Jefferson was published as a book

• Adams loved to walk and work outside on his farm - rose early to walk easily 3 miles a day

• Adams did not cow to popular opinion -

  "Popularity was never my mistress, nor was I ever, or shall I ever be a popular man."

Note: Adams religious background was congregationalist turned Unitarian, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_adams - religious views.

I'd Retire Here, if I ever Planned on Retiring

The second most preserved city in the world (Rome is the 1st), Charleston, South Carolina is an amazing visit! An ideal travel destination for honeymooners, lovers of architecture, and history buffs (it is one of the few cities to boast both revolutionary and civil war history), Charleston is a delightful city!

When you visit Charleston you can't go wrong lodging in the historical district of the town which is more conducive to walking or biking than to driving, as parking is a bear unless you are independently wealthy and like traversing narrow streets with lots of pedestrian. For maximal enjoyment you will want to find a bed and breakfast or hotel that is south of Calhoun Street. We stayed in the Francis Marion hotel, a quaint hotel built in 1924 (Charleston Place and the Vendue Inn are others I'd recommend looking into, may be pricey). The downside of this hotel is its lack of pool and the ease with which sound transmits in the halls. The upside is the character, the rooms that end with 08 & 28 are furnished with two bathrooms! Other positives are the hotel's location by Marion Park, Starbucks, and the cigar shop next door!

When in Rome do as the Romans and when in Charleston you should take in:
1. Fort Sumter - the 1st 'shots' of the civil war
2. White Point Gardens - "battery park"
3. The Market - an open air market with crafts and local wares
4. Rainbow Lane -
5. The churches of Charleston - can be toured during hours open to the public
6. The grave yards of Charleston - from which comes the terms dead ringer, saved by the bell, and grave yard shift
7. Tour by horse drawn carriage (The Old South Carriage Co) - day
8. Tour of the city jail (Bull Dog Tours) - night
9. Farmers market - Saturday mornings
10. Tour a plantation or a historic home
11. Visit 1 of 6 Charleston museums
12. Bicycle - tour the city on rented bikes
13. Stroll the historic district admiring the wrought iron fences and picturesque homes.

Recommended restaurants:
1. Virginia's - southern cooking ($20)
2. Sticky Fingers - bar-be-cue ($12)
3. Hyman's - seafood ($15)
4. Fleet Landing ($22)
5. Sweet Water Cafe - burgers and sandwiches ($10)

Note: the weather is hot, but the morning and evenings are not. If you decide to run, bike, or tour, run early and stroll late.

Final Thought: if I were to retire in Charleston, I would become a tour guide because they can make things up and no one know the differences. I would also take up photography while being an interim pastor at one of the local churches. Ever the capitalist I could sell my photography at the Farmers Market the proceeds of which would allow me to by a multimillion dollar historic home located on the peninsula where I would run a bed and breakfast (for missionaries on furlough and over-worked pastors of course, how else could I justify the purchase?!)

Let Your Words Be Few

This Thanksgiving is the first to my recollection that has been bookended by heavy news. Two days before Thanksgiving I found myself navigating the corridors of the hospital to spend time with friends who were trying to digest that their two day old son had a high chance of having trisomy-18 (a chromosomal defect which is not compatible with life).

As I watched the well wishers come and go, I was struck by the fact that while all sincerely care, most do not know how to respond to the suffering of others. They try to comfort with words. They talk about God, His goodness, and not needing to know why? They try to relate by telling stories of their own suffering and loss.

Sadly, the breaking human heart is not very receptive to words. Words, apart from prayers, are not very practical when grief is palatable. In the midst of pain, it is often not the spoken word that is the most comforting. Instead it is time spent in a hospital room, a long hug that lets someone know you care, or being intentional to meet an immediate need like a meal. "When grief is the freshest, words should be the fewest!"

Picture Perfect

As Luke and I drove down the unusually quiet street on Thanksgiving morning to buy our plump Thanksgiving day paper, I began to reminisce of memories from Thanksgivings past. They were consistent to say the least, but just like cranberry sauce and gravy run into all the fixings on the Thanksgiving plate so do my Thanksgiving memories. Some can remember specific Thanksgivings, usually because of something out of the ordinary. While, I can't remember specific Thanksgivings, I remember the consistency of the holiday. Instead of vivid memories, I have snap shots.

I have snap shots of eating too many Hawaiian rolls, being teased by my uncle by the lack of food on my plate (I was a picky eater, aside from Hawaiian rolls), and hopelessly trying to find a good football game in my grandparents basement which barely got TV reception or eat. For the record the Lions have always been a losing team and I still don't have an affinity for the Cowboys.

We climbed back in the car with our monstrous paper and a hunk of free bread from the bakery for Luke, I decided that I wouldn't trade my snap shots of Thanksgiving for anything and began to wonder how I could give my kids their own snap shots. Maybe the routine of going to the grocery to buy a paper in order to spend time with Luke. Maybe getting an early morning Latte with Ava Marie when she is old enough to appreciate the love behind buying overpriced coffee. Or maybe some day they will laugh over the pictures of them sitting in Turkey pans. I don't know what their memories will be, but I hope that some day they will have a fabulous collection of snap shots like me.

A Bias against Turkey

Last week, I worked 10 hours straight tutoring statistics. In honor of my subject, in lieu of the upcoming Holiday, and to help break the monotony, I decided to take a Thanksgiving poll. I asked each of my students what their favorite Thanksgiving dish. To my chagrin, only one said Turkey! Stuffing took the top prize (4) followed by mashed potatoes (2), sweet potato's w/ toppings (1) , and various desserts.

I have a theory on why people are biased toward turkey. I believe people are biased toward turkey because of the proportion of turkey that is left over compared with that of the traditional sides and desserts. No one likes Turkey because the majority of the leftovers is the bird. Solution, either those that raise turkey need to make smaller birds to create a greater demand (but this would be an economic theory and I don't tutor economics) or everyone should learn to enjoy my favorite part of the Thanksgiving milieux, left over Turkey meat (white), lightly salted, on white bread smothered with sharp cheddar cheese!

Does God Drink Coffee?

I woke up the other day with a strange, possibly sacrilegious thought in my head . . . Does God drink coffee? Apart from social settings and an occasional holiday mug, I have never been a coffee drinker. I survived high school without coffee. I have heard that caffeine can stunt growth. I endured college without coffee. I actually considered Starbucks to be at the top of the axis of evil that is taking over the world. I plowed through seminary without coffee. Even though I did not have to sign off on it to attend seminary like I did alcohol and tobacco products. I didn't even need coffee with the advent of my first born and he didn't arrive till 1 am. But somehow with the arrival of my second child, I have found myself being very intentional to add 5 minutes to my morning to brew a pot of coffee. Sadly, I find that coffee makes me happy which is either a reflection of the state of my life or a sign of my growing dependence on the caffeine. Don't get me wrong, I am still annoyed with coffee. It stains your teeth and it breeds dependency, but it seems to be a necessary evil to keep up with a life with two kids.

Which brings me back to my original question . . .Does God drink coffee? Which arose from me wondering how God keeps up with His children because I need coffee to keep up with life now that I have two. My lack of practical understanding of omniscience (the characteristic of being all knowing) and omnipresence (the characteristic of being everywhere at once) is obviously becoming apparent.

As a student of theology (theos - "God" and ology - "I paid a lot of money and invested a lot of time studying a certain topic") First, I know that God is immutable. Unlike me, he never changes. So if God hasn't been drink coffee from eternity past, He sure isn't drinking it now! Second, I also know that God neither slumbers nor sleeps (Ps 124:1) and that he is omnipotent (all powerful) so He has no need of the extra stimulant. Third, God doesn't associate with evil. Unless you take into account Job 2 where Satan comes before God. (There is a theological quagmire for you). Therefore theologically, I have concluded that God doesn't drink coffee and that Starbucks should begin to marketing campaign with drinks called "the omnipresent," "the omnipotent," and "the omniscient." Whoa! The caffeine seems to be causing my business background to cross with my theological training. . . and I only drink decaf, scary!

Two Sounds Reasonable

So I haven't blogged for two months. This is probably due to the fact that I have two kids under two and two part time jobs. The number two does not appear to be conducive for writing. For those who read my blog my having two kids may be a blessing in disguise as my last post had 16 installments consisting of several paragraphs a piece. My beautiful bride informs me that a good blog post should be no longer than two paragraphs.

Two paragraphs sounds reasonable to me. The next time I feel the need to write a blog of 16 installments it won't be necessary to take a two month break or blame my absence from the blogging world on my two kids!

Confusion Concerning Divorce and Remarriage

This last week in Sunday school class some questions arose concerning divorce and remarriage. We were studying 1 Corinthians 7, a seminal and often confusing passage on marriage. A concise document outlining what I believe to be a biblical view on this subject can be found at http://docs.google.com/View?id=dhr7h65p_34dz6zszcm.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 16

The rest of the morning went quickly; it was a busy one for Ava. She had her first guest, Jerry (her soon-to-be uncle), her first breakfast, her first look at her brother, and her first blood draw. Jerry and Suz ran to Café Brazil for our breakfast, Mommy provided Ava with her first breakfast, Luke came down and met Ava, and dad got the unfortunate task of holding Ava while she was first pricked on the heel and then poked and prodded until enough blood had been collected to send back to the lab.

By eleven o’clock we were packing to go home. Katherine had labored for two and a half hours. We had been at the birthing center for five hours. As we drove away, Katherine and I began to process about the morning. In the course of our conversation, I used the term “kids,” which caused me to pause. “That’s weird,” said Katherine. “It is,” I replied. Fifteen minutes later we arrived home to begin our new adventure as the parents of two.

The next day I would take Ava to meet her pediatrician. The following day would bring reinforcements. First one set then another set of grandparents would make the trip to come and love on our growing family. Ten days later, we would all return to the birth center to leave Ava’s “mark.” Every baby that is born leaves an inked foot print at their ten day check-up on the walls of the birth center.

Ava was unique as she left two prints. She left her first tiny, little footprint under her big brother’s mark on the stairwell of the old Victorian house that had been built about the time her great-great grandmother was born. The second footprint was placed all by itself, alone just as her two parents had felt during the early morning hours of August 26 when she had decided to make her entrance. This tiny marker in the middle of the front porch of the birthing center seemed fitting as it would proudly proclaim to those who come and go the story of a special little girl who made a front porch entrance.

I love you, Belle!

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 15

The night before I had begun to think again about the name Ava Marie again. I liked the meanings of both names. I had commented to Katherine that I liked the name because its meaning was derived from the Greek. I felt that this would help to balance and close out our seminary career, Luke (also a pseudonym) being a name that I came to appreciate in Hebrew and the name Ava Marie would coincide with all the Greek that I had taken. I also loved the middle name as it met my desired condition of royalty and would provide a future nickname for my little girl, “Belle.”

After twenty minutes of indecisiveness during which I repeated both names numerous times out-loud and come no closer to a decision as I liked both names equally well, I decided to take the advice that I give the students when preparing them for a multiple choice test. ‘When in doubt between two options, always go with your gut reaction as it is more likely to be right due to the mind’s intuition.’ “Her name will be Ava Marie!”

While the nurses bustled about taking blood, temperatures, and making sure Katherine and Ava Marie were comfortable, Katherine sat and recited the verse that I had picked out for Ava Marie. Along with meaningful names, I enjoy picking out a passage that I can specifically pray for each child. Luke’s was Proverbs 3:2-3. I greatly desire that he be a man of both kindness and truth. Ava Marie’s passage was chosen from one of the passages that Katherine and I had memorized during the spring. The beautiful benediction found in Jude 24-25 states,

“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to make you stand in the presence of His glory, blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior through Jesus Christ our Lord be glory, majesty, honor, and authority, before all time now and forever, Amen.”

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 14

I turned and walked back inside. Upon returning to Katherine’s side, the three of us plus one baby offered up a quick prayer of thanksgiving. The baby’s entrance while dramatic and been smooth despite the chord being wrapped around the neck and Katherine had had no tearing. Opening my eyes from my brief prayer, I realized that we still did not have a name for this little girl.

I began to discuss this with Katherine and Suzanne. “So do you think Gabrielle Victoria or Ava Marie (this is a pseudonym). I could tell that Suzanne liked Ava Marie, but she wisely withheld her opinion. I asked Katherine, “Which name do you like the best.” She replied very contentedly as she held our little girl, “I don’t care, you decide.” This caught me off guard: my usually opinionated wife didn’t have an opinion! The final decision was going to be totally up to me. Surprisingly, I found this to be the most overwhelming part of the entire morning as the bestowing of names is extremely important to me and I was not prepared to make a final decision.

I decided to call our parents and our other sister Rebecca (Julie and Sherwin were out of the country). I called each of them and gave them an abbreviated run down of the last three minutes. My dad asked, “What’s her name?” I said, “I don’t know…” He then said, “Today is Nanny’s birthday.” Nanny is my great grandmother, our daughter’s great-great grandmother who was turning 99 years old.

I then went back to agonizing over the name. We had been leaning toward Gabrielle but had not come to a conclusion about the middle name. I had decided that I liked middle names that connoted royalty or possibly the name of an English battleship from when England was at the height of its power and ruled the seas. Names such as Repulse, Bellerophon, Hercules, and Audacious somehow just did not seem appropriate though I liked the name Victoria which matched the criteria for both battleship and royalty.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 13

I hustled out of the room to help Suz set up the pack-in-play so Luke could sleep upstairs. I then began to unload all of the bags that we had packed for our expected extended labor which was over in five minutes. I came back inside excited and then remembered the advice that a kind seminary professor had given me when Luke was born. “Michael,” he said, “When Luke is born go outside and take a mental snap shot of what you see so that you can relive the moment for the rest of your life.” I had followed his advice and a couple minutes after Luke had arrived I had gone through the front doors of the old Victorian house where he had been born and taken a mental “snapshot” of the late October early morning. The almost-full moon had been draped in the horizon and the quiet cool night air had caused the leaves in the trees located in the park next door to merrily dance. It was a perfect picture.

I headed to find my mental picture for my daughter, but as I again stepped out of the old Victorian house, I realized that the mental image that would be forever etched into my mind would be me standing over Katherine as she labored alone on the front porch while we waited for help to arrive. This memory would not be replaced.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 12

“There’s the head,” Cherie observed. I looked down; everything was moving too fast to distinguish a head. Katherine cried out again and gave a powerful push. The baby shot out. The torpid shaped little body looked strangely un-human. Katherine’s entire body sagged. Cherie lifted up the tiny little bundle and handed the baby to Katherine to be held. The baby whimpered.

“I’m going inside to get the precept cart,” Cherie announced. We were alone again on the porch. I stared down at my wife holding my second child in her arms. We didn’t even know the gender. The baby looked a pale blue and wet. I wondered if it was breathing. Cherie returned to cut the chord. “We don’t even know the gender,” I said. She said, “I already felt (the gender).” I asked, “Is it a boy?” She said, “Do you want to know?” My statement now seemed silly as we stood on the porch. I hesitated, “Sure.” Cherie examined the baby, “You have a girl.”

Another car pulled up. I saw Suz coming up the steps. Cherie began to cut the chord. Cherie turned to Suz who was now standing on the porch and ordered her inside to strip the bed. Katherine was to be moved inside. Cherie tried to move the baby, but the chord was caught in the blanket wrapped around the baby. She worked some more and then turned to hand me the baby. I stood there clutching my newborn daughter. I took a closer look. Her eyes were closed. Her entire body was blue and her little face was a dark purple. She was not moving and I again wondered if she was breathing. Everyone was now inside and I followed them in holding my precious cargo determined to give her back to Cherie so that she could work on the baby.

Katherine was climbing into the massive king bed assisted by Cherie as I entered the room. I stood there in the middle of the room holding the baby. Cherie came to me and took the baby saying that she needed to be warmed. I watched as she carried her over to the giant armoire which contained the resuscitation unit. At that point, I looked down and saw blood all over my white t-shirt from the severed umbilical chord.

Cherie flicked on the heat lamps and began to snake a small tube with a suction bulb on the end into the baby's mouth. I assumed that she was clearing any fluid out of the baby’s airway. Again, I wondered if she had been breathing. It had been several minutes since birth and I was concerned. Thoughts of close friends who have had trouble with their daughters nagged in the back of my mind. The baby began to cry and kick her legs. I breathed a sigh of relief and moved over to Katherine's side as she lay in the bed. “Way to go, babe! You did it! We have a little girl . . . a little girl . . .”

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 11

“I can feel the head,” Katherine shouted again. I glanced at Katherine and then anxiously looked down the street. The lone runner was now directly across the street from the house. Katherine moaned. I wishfully pleaded in my mind that Katherine would not have a contraction as the runner might take notice of the half-naked woman kneeling on the porch with a man bending over her. Immediately a contraction began and Katherine moaned loudly, the runner took no notice. I rubbed Katherine’s back while straining for head-lights.

“I have to push,” Katherine gasped. “I can feel the head.” I reached down to see if things were really that progressed. I jerked my hand back. We were going to have a baby, now. I began wondering if I should go get Luke’s blanket to place under Katherine. Katherine was now forcefully pushing while clutching the bench.

I saw headlights speeding down the road toward us. Katherine screamed. I tried to encourage her. “Cherie is here, hold on!” I watched as the little VW Bug coasted to a stop. I looked back down to see my wife, oblivious to the world, seconds away from giving birth to our second child.

At that moment it was like everything went into slow motion, like the scenes in Face Off or The Matrix. I moved back to Katherine’s side as Cherie leapt up the steps. “I’m going to have you lay down on your back,” she said to Katherine. I moved in to help Cherie move Katherine, who was in mid-contraction and pushing, shift from her kneeling to laying on her back.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 10

Katherine staggered around the porch like a drunk woman as my adrenaline-flushed mind tried to calmly take in my options. I encouraged Katherine to kneel down next to the ornate wrought iron bench on the porch. I threw my shirt down on top of the bench and helped Katherine to her knees. I stood there for what seemed like an hour, but in reality it was only seconds. I strained to see headlights coming down the street. The street was dark and only a lonely jogger could be seen about a quarter of a mile down the street. It was about five thirty.

My mind whirled, “I could break the glass pane of the front door and open the door from the outside. Should I call 9-1-1?” Katherine wailed in pain. I reached for my cell phone and scrolled through my numbers hunting for the mid-wife’s cell. There were two numbers stored in my phone. I wasn’t sure which I should use as Katherine had been making the prior phone calls. I bent over Katherine and touched her shoulder to try to get her attention. “Which number is it?” I asked.

I hit the send button and the phone began to ring. “Pick up, PICK UP,” I thought. No answer. I snapped the phone shut. “Should I call 9-1-1,” I wondered again. I looked down at Katherine, “The baby is coming,” she yelled, “Help me take my pants off!” At that moment, I smelled a strong pungent smell. I realized with horror that Katherine’s water had just broken! She was struggling to get her pants off. I helped her remove her pants which were already half way down her legs. The thought of my wife kneeling on the porch half naked briefly crossed my mind, but the thought vanished as it seemed of little concern in the immediacy of the moment.

Another contraction hit as Katherine continued to push. “I can feel the head,” she screamed. I hit the send button on my phone. “PICK UP!” my mind screamed. The phone ring and then the other end picked up. “I’m four blocks away,” the voice on the end said. “Hurry,” I begged. “Katherine’s water just broke and she says that she can feel the head.” “I’ll be there in a minute,” the phone went dead.

I stroked Katherine’s head, “She is almost here,” I comforted her. “The baby is coming,” Katherine responded with her voice pleading for me to do something, anything to help the situation. I called Suz. I didn’t wait for a hello. “Suz, the baby is coming. When you get here, I am going to toss you the keys and let you take care of Luke. He’s in the car, strapped in his car seat.”

“I’m leaving now,” she said.

Preservatives Anyone?

A little history lesson. Herod the Great loved his second wife, but he didn't trust her. For that reason he had her killed and then preserved her body in a vat of honey. He kept her in his bedroom and from time to time would bring her out so that he could spend some quality time with her.

My wife informs me that my lists are boring (I think they annoy her). So in honor of 9/9/09 (a "lucky number" in China) I have decided to move all of my lists to this date for the sake of the order of my blog and the sanity of my wife.

I love you honey!

List Making: Bane or Blessing - Part 2

Having observed this bane, blessing phenomenon. I have decided that I will begin to post my lists. I do this for three reasons.

1) Warning: If you are not a list maker you should probably jump ahead to reason number two. If you are a list maker you understand the very real danger of "lists chaos" - a bunch of lists that just float around in your head and life which for the sake of sanity need to be organized, sorted, and accessible. If you don't do lists and you just read that, I'm sorry, but I warned you.

2) Non-list makers greatly benefit from the structure of the lists of others . . . at least this is what I observe from my wife who only makes lists or invokes me to bring order to her events and circumstances (a strength of the list maker) when she is so stressed and overwhelmed that she is close to shutting down

3) Transcribing my lists onto this blog has been on my list of things to do for a week and it must get done today or I will have a bad day

So brace yourself because on 8/23 at 4:30pm my blog will post the most random litany of lists you have ever seen! Please feel free to comment with additions to my lists.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 9

We could now see Baylor hospital, the birthing center was located right next door. Katherine moaned loudly as another contraction racked her body, “I need to push!” “Hold on babe, we are almost there,” I assured her. As we turned onto Swiss Avenue, I could now see the birth-center. My heart sank, there were no lights on in the house and no headlights in the street. We had beat the mid-wife to the birth-center. As we sped toward the house Katherine gasped in pain and again pleaded with me to hurry.

I pulled up to the curb in front of the house and very intentionally put the car into park. As I was trying to decide what we should do, Katherine made up my mind for me, “I have to get out,” she almost shouted. Quicker then I thought possible she scooted out of the car. “She must be about to throw-up,” I thought. Vomiting is a common part of transition in labor, as the body does it’s best to empty itself before birth. When Katherine had thrown-up during her first labor with Luke, it had caught me of guard, but I had remembered this and had been waiting for this sign all night.

But Katherine didn’t pause and I was surprised to notice her rapidly moving up the two flights of steps to the front porch. The engine was still running and Luke was still strapped in his car seat. I had the presence of mind to roll down the back window next to Luke before turning of the engine and leaping out of the car to follow Katherine up the front steps to the porch where she was trying the door handle which I knew would be locked.

It was one of those weird moments during the labor process when you realize that your wife’s mind is on auto pilot. She has enough presence of mind to make decisions, but not enough awareness to take in all the details. I had experienced this during the car ride as Katherine had adjured me twenty times in four miles to hurry while I had been running red lights and flying through school zones.

A Front Porch Entrance: The Birth of my Belle Part 8

Katherine’s last contraction had dissipated. She turned to me with a panicked look on her face and with the calmest voice possible after having just finished a 60 second contraction said, “We need to get there – fast!” “I know,” I said, “I’m going as fast as I can.” Another contraction began to grip Katherine as I hit a straight section in the road and punched the accelerator. The engine revved and I looked at the speedometer. I was going 45 mph through the neighborhood school zone.

About halfway to the birth-center (a 15 minute trip) we hit our first red light on Lemon Avenue. Surprisingly there was a car waiting next to us at the light. I looked past this early morning traveler’s vehicle down the one-way intersecting street to see if any cars were coming. “Should I run it?” I half asked myself and half asked Katherine, she nodded as she was in the middle of another contraction. I buried the accelerator to the floor. I mean, common how many times do you get a valid excuse to run a red light? The back tires peeled out! My two-year old responded with a “Vrrm Vrrm” from the back seat. Katherine urged me on, “Go faster, run the lights,” she said as she half-coherently nodded her approval more to herself then to anyone else.

As I ran the light, I wondered about the neighboring car that had just witnessed my flagrant violation of traffic code. “I sure hope that they aren’t a rule follower,” I thought to myself. “If they are they are probably hopping mad.” I then began to wonder how fast I was driving. Having been told in between every contraction that we needed to hurry, I realized that my inhibitions might be a little low and that caution may indeed be the better part of valor.

I glanced down again at the speedometer; I was doing fifty miles per hour in a thirty mile an hour speed zone. Fortunately, the multiple intersections mandated that I slow down a little. I decided that this was probably for the best as an accident at this point would have me delivering the baby not to mention put my car back in the shop.