Here Comes Baby!

OK, not really; sorry for crying wolf. But if she's going to come, now is the time because Kelly's parents finally left to go home. They've been here since Tuesday night waiting with us, but it was time they try to get back to their lives as we wait for the big arrival.

It was a blessing to have them come up, giving me the chance to slip out every once in awhile to go home, shower and get some more clothes. And it's been great to have them around for all the encouragement they provide. No joke: I have some awesome in-laws. And I'm not just saying that because I've gotten used to them hooking me up with Egg McMuffins every morning. Thanks so much, Dave and Bev!

Yesterday Dave and I were able to tour the Good Sam neo-natal ICU. The realization is sinking in that our little girl will be here at least a few weeks after Kelly gets to go home. It's a top-notch facility. It's a beautiful, high tech nursery where all the babies can be closely monitored. And the nurse giving us the tour reassured us that our baby is in great shape with her maturity and size. I don't know what it'll be like having to leave our newborn here and go home, but we're about six minutes away. Some parents with babies here live as far as two hours away, so this is another blessing for which we're thankful.

And it figures that, with everything else happening, there was trouble at the condo. Kelly's parents called last night saying that the heat wasn't working. They insisted on spending the night anyway, but it was a cold 52 degrees inside. Considering we have a brand new heat pump, I was a little hot under the collar. This morning I was able to find out that the electric line supplying the heat and our stove had ruptured in the ground. So Cinergy is coming by this afternoon to take care of it. Hopefully, by the end of the day, the heat will be on.

And still, we wait. Place your bets now.

A Room With A View

After spending the first two days at the hospital in a windowless room, I was giddy when they said they were moving us to a room with a window. Kelly really didn't care too much, but even the thought of natural light put a little jump in my step. The fabulous window view we now have:

Um, huge improvement. At least it's something.

How To Win The World For Jesus

We will debate the pagans into submission! The best part of this article is the correction that reads:

In the original version of this report, NEWSWEEK misquoted Falwell as referring to "assault ministry." In fact, Falwell was referring to "a salt ministry"—a reference to Matthew 5:13, where Jesus says "Ye are the salt of the earth." We regret the error.

Imagine that? Jerry Falwell misunderstood. He's still my hero.

Patience

When I was growing up, the bathroom at my parent's house had a slate hanging on the wall. It was from the 100 year-old building where our church met; the building was demolished about 18 years ago. The roof was tiled with these 1'X2' slates, a perfect canvas for our craft-minded neighbor to decorate. This certain slate had a sea-scape painted on it along with a quote from a book called Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Yeah, it's chick-lit, but seeing the quote every day caused it to be etched into my mind. And I can recite without hesitation: "Patience is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach— waiting for a gift from the sea."

Like almost all people, I've struggled hard with patience.

Remember when you were younger, you thought, "wouldn't it be nice if we were older?" That's the story of my life. I've always looked young for my age, so I always anticipated getting another year under my belt. Everyone was like this, but when I was twelve, I wanted to be sixteen. When I was sixteen, it was eighteen. When I was eighteen, it was twenty-one. And I also liked to round up my age, just so I could feel legitimate. I just wanted what's next. Just a note, it's funny that at thirty, I finally feel comfortable where I'm at. But my patience issues aren't all about age.

When I graduated Bible college, I was ready to preach. That's why the whole reason I wanted to go into the ministry, not because I wanted to pastor people but because I liked to preach. Think about it: a half hour every week when I talk and everybody has to listen. Are you kidding? That's like getting paid to go to therapy! But out of school, I couldn't get a preaching job; I guess I looked too young. I kept waiting and waiting, through three different jobs, for the opportunity to live out my dream [fortunately God used this time to teach me that the ministry is more than just a homily]. Honestly, if I knew I would have to wait eight years to see that dream become a reality, I might have given up and moved onto a different profession. I am Veruca Salt: I want it now.

And that brings me to right now. 4am in a hospital room striving to be patient. I know we're most likely just beginning this waiting process for our baby, but my stoicism runs thin. But I have a some patience incentive. Now it's not about me getting what I want when I want it. I want so bad to see this little girl's face, to finally hold her in my arms. But I know that my need for instant gratification works against the health of our child. For that, my friends, I'll do all I can to get patient . . . as quickly as possible.

Phillipians 4:4-7 says it best:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Now, I can wait. Thanks, God, for getting me here.

Survivor Is Back

I'm not really an addict, but what else is there to do? Watching The Survivor premier, two quick thoughts from the first segments: 1) What's the big deal about Exile Island? There are crew members all over the island. So it's not like the people are alone. I love them trying to show how lonely it is via a camera man doing a nice fade-out.

2) When I see a huge dead turtle on a beach, I don't think of mother earth or that North America was once called the Turtle Island [What the ?????]. I think, "Man, I'd love to poke it with a stick."

48 Hours

As we reach a full two days of hospital time, with both wife and baby healthy, and still waiting on the big event, I focus my thoughts on some little observations from the past two days. Try this one on for size. Printed on every television in this hospital [or at least the two rooms we've had so far] is the following announcement:

"Local Phone/TV Service is $7.50 per day"

Now I have definite issues here. Call the doctor because I feel a rant coming on.

First I ask, why lump these two services together? Since when do phones and TV go hand in hand? Of course you could say that Time Warner Cable now provides phone service so "shut-it, Steve," but you don't have to get those services together. With cell phones, we have little use for the room line- and don't get on me about not using cell phones in the hospital, because EVERYONE HERE is doing it!

You might think that the substantial price for the services would mean they have high-tech gadgets to use. You would be wrong. We're watching a Zenith 16-inch television that won't show the entire screen. Watching the Kentucky game last night, we could only see half of the score. A game is a lot less interesting when you have no idea who's winning. And there's no "push-button" remote so, to change the channels, you have to go through every channel along the way. If you're want to watch channel 43 and you accidentally hit the button and go past that channel, you have to start again at channel one and start all over. Oh, and the phone is nothing to write home about either.

Finally do the math here. If you factor this out over the course of a month, which is how long we could possibly be here. That would be $225. Normally telephone and cable would cost about $70 per month. I think I could buy a TV and phone for the remaining $155. This is a racket if I've ever seen one. No wonder the hospital can afford this huge expansion.

With so much downtime on our hands this is a service that I refuse to do without. We'll see just how good our health insurance is [the sign also says that the charges will show up on our home telephone bill. Seeing as we don't use Cincinnati Bell, this might be difficult for the hospital]. We have to have television to watch so now I'm using the phone all the time, randomly calling people around the city. The dialogue goes something like this: "Hey, it's Steve here. My wife's having a baby at Good Sam hospital. We're paying for this phone call. So what do you want to talk about?"

Gotta go. It's time for Survivor . . .

Didn't I post this yesterday?

We've been a tad preoccupied the past couple days, so I apologize if others have already said this. But today is groundhog day and the groundhog saw his shadow and we get six more weeks of winter. This winter is on record as one of the mildest winters in a century. Is anyone really disappointed if we get six more weeks of this?

30 Hours Later

OK, here's where we are: Kelly did better today, better than the doctors predicted. Apparently they really thought she could have the baby last night [but they were wise and didn't tell us]. She only had about five contractions today and was only in mild discomfort. Plus, she was able to eat some food. Hospital food is a drag, but she really enjoyed the Jello; Bill Cosby would be proud.

While time stands still in our world right now, every day that passes is another day our little girl can grow stronger. They're continuing giving Kel magnesium in hopes of keeping things where they are. We're unsure how long she'll be able to hold it; it could happen tomorrow or it could happen in weeks. All we know is that by March 1st we'll have a baby; and Kelly is stuck in the hospital until it happens.

We had a great time as friends and family visited today. We had no idea how many people cared! This was both relieving and exhausting to Kelly. The medical staff here have some concerns with the volume of visitors we've had and asked that we limit the number of people who come to visit. Wanting to respect their request, and wanting what's best for the baby and Kelly, we're going to ask that only our families visit during the next few days. And instead of calling the hospital room to check on us, please call my cell or send me an email [they have Wi-Fi here]. Thanks for understanding our needs.

We deeply appreciate everyone's concern and care. I promise I'll get updates along when things happen. Your prayers have been a blessing.

Soon to be a papa, steve

Change of Plans

I'm writing this post from Good Samaritan hospital. Yesterday afternoon Kelly called me from her doctor's appointment with some startling news: she had gone into labor. I rushed over [understatement] to meet her at the hospital. The lifesquad brought her here. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, let me give the details.

Kelly just hit thirty weeks at midnight. The little girl is healthy enough that, if born now, she'd most likely be OK. Still, she's better off inside Kelly as long as possible, to allow her lungs some time to develop. They have her on magnesium which makes her whole body limp, but it proved successful. She won't leave the hospital until the baby comes, so sometime in the next couple of weeks the baby will be here. Could be today, could be tomorrow, could be next week. We'll find out more later this morning as her doctors do some consultation.

Of course, this was all quite the surprise. We thought we had a couple more months [at least a few weeks] to prepare. Kelly started having contractions yesterday morning and thought it was a stomach ache. Her doctor said that if she hadn't had her appointment yesterday that I would have delivered her baby last night. There's a scary thought.

Quick blessings: Kelly is doing an awesome job. Apparently the doctors say she has a high threshold of pain [she married me, didn't she?].

Good Sam is one of the top prenatal hospitals in the world. The staff has been great; our nurse last night was wonderful. We even managed to sneak in some sleep here and there.

Kelly's parents were able to come up last night. It was a relief for Kelly to have them here, plus it gave me the chance to run home a pack the proverbial "baby suitcase."

I'll let you know how things are going. Prayers are definitely appreciated.

Where Were You?

Pearl Harbor and JFK's Assassination- two "generational moments" that touched America. Moments that cause people to remember exactly where they were or what they were doing when they first heard about them. Unfortunately, my generation has had two such moments. Obviously the terrorist attacks on America are unforgettable but the first moment was the space shuttle Challenger. This weekend marked twenty years since the Challenger disaster. On January 28, 1986 I was in Mrs Smith's fourth grade class at John Foster Dulles elementary school. We weren't among the students watching the launch on live TV because our lunch period occurred at that time. I remember someone coming up to our table saying that the shuttle had exploded, and we thinking it was a joke. I can remember exactly where I was sitting in the cafeteria. We spent the rest of the day glued to the television watching the disastrous news come in. For years I thought that would be our generation's moment in time.

Last night A&E had a special about on about the World Trade Center bombings. Whenever these 9/11 programs come on, I feel obligated to watch. On September 11, 2001 I was working at Cincinnati Bible College in the admissions office. Evan's wife called to tell us to turn on the television. We watched intently as the smoke bellowed from the north tower. But the moment the south tower suddenly burst into flames, and we all recognized that this wasn't an accident, everything changed. I remember how numb I felt in that moment. I was coach of the school's women's soccer team and I cancelled practice that day. I stayed up that night until 3am watching the news. I couldn't believe what had happened.

A crazy thing about being human: we can feel the pain of losing someone we've never met. I didn't personally know any of the people who perished in either of those accidents yet I felt [and still feel] this connection with them. Perhaps it's because we're forced to reflect on our own humanity. Churches in this country were never as full the weekend after September 11th; and everyone was praying. These moments make us realize how frail life is, that we're not invincible, and that we should cherish all the days we have on earth.

Maybe that's why I feel the need to watch every program about these disasters. I need to constantly be reminded of how precious and fleeting my own existence is. It gives me another piece of motivation to carpe diem and make a difference in this world. My mortality should affect the way I carry myself in life, and seeing the sudden deaths of others puts that into perspective.

I don't know if that's it or not, but I keep coming back to these moments in time. I am the only one, or do these moments stir you as well?

He Can't Handle The Truth

The heat was too much.

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about James Frey, whose non-fiction best-seller A Million Little Pieces was found to be full of lies. Book sales were jettisoned by being in Oprah's book club. For awhile the media queen denied that this was a big deal, but she finally came to terms and brought James Frey back on her show. [Correction: NY Times pulled the transcript, but their coverage is here.]

It's hilarious that Frey's still trying to live in the false reality he's created. He said, "I mean, what was true is there was that person. Every one of the people in the book existed. I altered things about all of them." Plus, while I'm adding things, I finally saw some of the video on the news this morning and, "DANG!" That was one ticked-off billionaire! And Frey was just a deer in the headlights as Oprah tore him a new one. I wonder if he was even aware why Oprah asked him back on the show]

Oprah has withdrawn her support of Frey and his book.

La Pequena Chica

First off, El Rancho Grande is still the best restaurant ever.

Had to get that out of the way.

A trip to El Rancho was my treat for participating in the arduous task known as "registering for baby shower." We were an hour and a half at Babies 'R' Us this evening, neck deep in pastels [which even makes Kelly gag]. Don't worry; I made it out alive.

I remember eight years ago when we were registering for our wedding. Now that was a good time. I wielded that price gun like Doc Holiday on the streets of Tombstone ["I'm your Huckleberry"]. It was the same task today, with a different purpose. The estrogen levels were awfully high. All the men in the place, accompanying their pregnant partners looked like they were being held hostage with no ransom in sight.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm so excited about the little girl. I can't wait 'till she gets here. I'm looking forward to all the things fatherhood has to offer. But I don't care what color her sheets are, or what kind of sippie cups she'll use. But I guess it's stuff other people are going to get us. So I'll shut up now. Because I'm an idiot.

Did I mention we ate at El Rancho Grande tonight?

God Bless Hooters!

Wait! Don't get all judgemental! I didn't say that. He did.

The head Catholic priest for the Greater Waco area blessed the new Hooters restaurant in town.

Monsignor Isidore Rozycki is quoted as saying, “Blessings are part of the Catholic tradition. You bless the building so it will be a safe haven, so that the families that enter will be blessed, so the employees will be blessed as they support their families."

OK then.

If this works, he should expect more calls.

"Monsignor, Larry Flint on line one."

Ten minutes to Wapner . . .

[Insert People's Court Music here. If typed out it looks like: DA! D'DUM! DUM!]

I've always been fascinated by the law; before my preaching desires kicked in, I always thought I would be a lawyer. It seemed such a cool profession, on LA Law and in the movies [My Cousin Vinnie, anyone?], why wouldn't I want to be a lawyer?

I became a friend with Kevin while on staff at Christ's Church. Kevin is a defense lawyer up in Lebanon who sometimes tries appeals cases before the United States Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals. He always offered to let me watch and we finally made it happen this afternoon.

First off, no one tried on a bloody glove and there was no opportunity for me to yell, "No Justice, No Peace!" After getting over that disappointment, it was an interesting time. The room in the Courthouse was gorgeous, cherry wood everywhere with a Gold Eagle carved above the judges' bench. There are three judges that cases are brought before, and lawyers. At this point in the appeals process, it's all about arguments over the laws themselves.

As a defense lawyer Kevin is forced to represent scum, but he'll only argue what he believes in. Today it was an argument concerning the way a judge sentenced a drug dealer. There was no denying the guilt of the defendent, but the judge took some leeway in how he came up with the sentence; he used hearsay evidence to come up with the sentence. Kevin argued to the appeals court that it was a violation of the sixth amendment [still not sure what women voting had to do with this]. The judges get a month or so to come up with a decision but, despite already winning one of his points, you could tell that his argument wasn't going to fly.

After listening to about an hour of legaleze, I went away with one thing on my mind:

I'm glad I didn't become a lawyer.

Sure it's exciting when you're before a judge, but with all the research you have to do just to get in court, it's like being stuck in term-paper hell. You research rulings and cases to come up with arguments so you can go back and research some more. That is unless you're an ambulance chaser and then . . . well, Duebber can fill in the blanks.

Mad props to all you hard-working law school grads, but I'll stick with the preaching gig, thank you very much. No one objects to my sermons . . . well, at least not while I'm giving them.

Can't you hear Doug Llewellyn wrapping up this post? He says something like this:

"This is Doug Llewellyn reminding you that when you're too lazy to actually go to law school, you have little ambition and think you can skate through life by going to Bible College and becoming a minister, don't take the law into your own hands- go to court . . . for an afternoon."

[Insert ending People's Court theme here: DA! D'DUM! DUM! followed by the wicked drum solo.]

Oh, Kanye . . .

Why couldn't he just let Jesus Walk and leave it at that?

Delicates- Low Heat

Problem: I hate wrinkled clothes.

Additional Problem: I hate ironing.

Ultimate solution: the dryer.

Does it remind you of this Seinfeld episode:

Kramer: Feel this. Yeah! It's piquing hot. It's fresh out of the dryer. Hey Elaine you have to feel my pants . Elaine: I'll see you later. Kramer: Oh. All right. You don't know what your missing. I'm loving this, Jerry! I am never putting on another piece of clothing unless it's straight out of the dryer.

Hijinks ensue when Kramer gets the calzone place to put his pants in their oven.

I used to do this all the time when I was growing up. My room was in the basement, as was the laundry room, so it was easy access to the dryer. I don't think I ever ironed then. I had to go without in college [no way was I going to run down four flights of stairs and pay 75 cents]. Same thing in our apartment days. I started using the dryer again in our last house, but only sparingly.

My in-laws have one of those steamers that they let me use when we were there over the holidays. In my first attempt using it I burned my hand. That's all I needed to know. I've never been burned by my trusty, reliable dryer.

Today was the first time I reinstituted the time-honored tradition at the condo. I had absolutely no desire to iron so I threw my jeans and sweater in the dryer. One has to be careful not to leave the clothes in too long, lest they end up shrinking. About four minutes gets the job done. I nailed the timing on it. And then I was able to enjoy a few extra minutes of added warmth. Friends, can life get any better than this?

We have really bad static in the house, so a dryer sheet is a must. My jeans felt like plastic-wrap on my legs for a few minutes.

Like Cosmo, I might never put on another piece of clothing unless it's straight out of the dryer.

The Only Thing We Have To Fear . . .

From Seth Godin's blog:

"The enemy of creativity is fear.

The enemy of fear, in the short run anyway, is not creativity. It's the fetal position.

The fetal position doesn't work. It feels like it ought to, but it just gives you more room for your fear."

'Tis true.

SNL- Better When It's Not Live

A tribute to the Young Chuck Norris.


HT: Blurred Brain

A Whale of A Time

I don't know much, but the little I do know could've prove helpful to people in London yesterday.

People in England sprang to action as a bottlenose whale was swimming in the Thames River, a body of water not known for it's whale population. They dispatched help to try to get the whale back to the ocean. Unfortunately, the whale didn't survive the trip and died. Shocker.

Growing up with animals, I understood that they didn't like to hang around the house to die. Both cats and dogs alike would wander off into the woods, returning to the wild to meet their end. As Kelly and I watched the scene unfold we asked the same question: does anyone think it went down-river to die?

Hmmmm, I guess we were right. Whale dies. Thousands of dollars wasted.

BTW, forget about the Thames or Moby Dick, this is still the best whale story ever.

What time is it?

Just flipping through channels, we came across the new VH1 reality show featuring Public Enemy Rapper Flavor Flav; Flavor [as his friends call him] is famous for two things: 1) saying "YEEE-AH BOYZ!!!!" and 2) wearing large clocks around his neck. This reality show is a Bachelor-like dating show where he picks from a large group of girls to find his love match.

But instead of giving the girls roses, what does he give to the ladies? Oh yes: large clocks to wear around their neck. How is this not the greatest show on television?

Bring the noise. Fight the power.