a faith observed: Pink firetrucks.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Pink firetrucks.

Excitement is in the air. Simon starts "school" on Monday three days a week. He'll be going to Harmony Montessori Children's House Monday, Wednesday, and Thursdays and we think it is going to be great for us all! Andrew is on Easter holiday for two weeks so we figure now is a good time to start as it will allow us more time to get him nice and settled in.

So, to celebrate the momentous occasion, we decided to throw a party. After weeks of deliberating over what to make, we settled on a firetruck. Thanks Betty Crocker for your you tube how to make a firetruck cake video which helped us along the way and gave Simon a good week of pleasure. Our firetruck ended up being pink, however, as we couldn't find all of the necessary ingredients (what is gel food dye?) that BC called for. Perfect, however, since Simon's favorite color is pink. I felt pretty proud of the finished product, as my frosting was rather running after pouring way too much beetroot liquid into it to try to make it as naturally red as possible.

Also great that Sam and Reuben could join us for the party and a sleepover too! How cute are the four blondies? and reading bed time stories together?

Happy going to school, Simon and best wishes for Monday!

1 comment:

Rachel said...: That's an amazing truck -- and I love that it's pink! Congrats on school -- hope it goes well. Miss you guys. xoxo; April 11, 2011 at 2:22 AM

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This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.