Weekly Links We Like to Link to - Narcissist Edition

I remember the first words that came out of my mouth when I first saw our red-fluid-covered daughter. "Oh, baby, look at her. She's beautiful!"

I'm convinced that Joss gets more cute each and every month. When she's 5, there will be no stopping her. When she's 7, we will attend her coronation as the first ever Princess of the USA. Obama will bow down before her awesome radiance. Of course, she'll give all glory to the giver of good things, the maker and redeemer and originator of all beauty, God.

You want proof? You say, you need evidence from Day 1 on?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Exhibit A: familydyegest.

Just a few images from recent history:






In August, we are going to Colombia. It's a country. It's in South America. It's about 75 degrees there all year long. We'll be working with the displaced.

Want more information? This is our Journey Journal. (It's in Wordpress, which is a different language altogether. We're still working on it.)

Daddy's Little Girl 2

I got to play with Joss this whole weekend. I usually don't get to see her during the week except a few hours collectively. And usually she's just getting up or going to sleep. Or I'm fixing her diaper (yeah, because it's broke) or something in the middle of the night and I'm not at my best and I can't really be social with her since we're trying to make her actually sleep through the night.

So, we woke up early yesterday. Or rather, she woke me up early yesterday. And we hung out while mom finally got some sleep. And then we hung out this morning (and missed church) a few short (too few short) hours after she inexplicably woke up and wouldn't go back to sleep.

This afternoon, as her sleep time was nearing, I realized that I would need to leave to run an errand before the world shut down for Sunday afternoon. As I put on my coat, she recognized that version of me. It's the daddy who's leaving and won't be back for the whole day. It's the daddy that, honestly, I know that I need to be but I don't want to be.

She started crying. Severely. Her face turned beet-red. She turned around to see me again and again as I tried to reassure her that I wasn't gone yet and that mommy was there for her. She settled down and reestablished herself with mom. I washed up (man, it really, really tears me up to leave her. Literally.) and left.

I came back in about twenty minutes with a hope bursting in my heart. I would only have another twenty minutes or so with her, but they would gain some significance for me. She's becoming daddy's little girl, all the more precious because of what little awake time we spend together (her mother is far and away her favorite person. But I still like the recognition and appreciation of these fleeting moments from the moment I enter the door and her little head dramatically turns my direction and she flashes that gorgeous little smile of hers).

But, yeah, she couldn't care less. We hung out. She was on my arm and just chilling with me. She went to bed. All nonchalant like a little girl who was more than ready to go to bed.

And as she was passing into that great threshold into the deep caverns of sleep, she gazed at me and burst out her smile for one last appearance.

She's trained too well

My wife trained our daughter to smile at the camera. And it's a wonderful, heart-melting smile. Seriously, whenever a camera - and especially our camera - is focused on her little six month old face, she beams and looks directly at the lens. It's kinda pavlovian-scary. And it works. It's not something that most little ones do.

But yesterday, in our continuing quest to independitize our baby (although not too fast), we fed her oatmeal. We've already been feeding her rice, and she took to that fairly well, but we've graduated her from little tastes to peanut-butter thick concoctions of her milk and the cereal.

I think with the oatmeal, we went too fast, too furious with it.

And now, well, I guess she cleared out her system.

All.

Day.

Long.

It was so bad that my wife couldn't go in to work today.

The little booger was making "O my god i've got lower intestine problems today" faces. And, from the way Jen described them, they were also really funny.

So Jen, being a parent of a future teenager, wants to document this for future posterity (and blogging posts) of course. "Do I need to remind you of how you look when you're upset? See this, this is what you look like, little missy. Now, quit arguing with me and put on a sweater!"

But the baby pauses from her suffering to smile for the camera. She's still flush in the cheeks, but that's the only thing that looks flush-esque about her.

God, I miss being home.

How soon we pass

My cracked fingers are dirty and splochy with all sorts of marks on them from various types of markers. As I'm writing this on the bus, I can only find a red chisel-tip Sharpie and a handful of orange notecards.

At an intersection, a man walks adjacent to the bus wearing an aqua-green plastic robe. It looks a bit like a garbage bag. Or a cheap Halloween costume. On his head lies the pastel foam crown of Lady Liberty. He is advertising criminally high-rate fast loans to the poor from a walking billboard that promises freedom.

We pass the Faith in God Nails and Hair Salon. I doubt at this moment that I'll get home in time to hold my daughter. She did not nap this afternoon. Which means that she was screaming all afternoon. Which means that she is going down early. Which means that she'll be home before my half-hour ride gets me within vicinity of her squeamishly happy hug.

On Friday I picked her up from my wife's job. My wife's boss was sad to see her leave so soon.

My wife's boss is great. Jen and the baby get to come into a downtown women's empowerment firm's office three times a week for several hours. And the baby is adored there.

Jen needed some extra time to finish some projects. I was the delivery man, bringing baby on a sling, only in style.

She wore a faux-fur coat like she was born to wear it. Her deep blue eyes and edible cheeks would only guarantee that she had to be something out of a television commercial for baby angels who don't murder furry animals for clothing.

We bounded through the State of Illinois Center. The little one is drawn to windows like a moth to the flames (the difference being that she is not burned to a crisp by windows) and stretched her little neck back. And arched her little head back all the way until she was dizzy. I waited for her to get a grasp on what she was viewing. She is amazed. I am amazed at her amazement.

She is looking at the passengers as they pass by our perch on the bench in the subway. Busy people leaving their busy offices. Still buzzing from the joy-kill that was a week spent in an office, haggling with people every work-day for five days straight about things that they do not care about, and neither do the people they are doing business with.

And they notice the little girl with the big blue eyes gazing at them. And just as they pass, for an instant and just for an instant, they smile back. A warm, inviting smile. A smile that seems to transport them to another time, another place, another season, another mood. They are in the woods. They are walking their child. They are kissing their lovers. They are breathing deep. Their hair is being run through by the wind, or by a loved one's fingers. Their steps are lighter. They have the ability to say anything. They have the power to say nothing. They are gorgeous and bright and the world is happy.

And as Joss arches her back and her neck and lifts up her legs to continue her glancing at them while they pass, they move on. They correct themselves. They are grown-ups, living in a grown-up world.

So, uh, what's going on?

Thanks for asking, Peter. Let's see:

• After this weekend, not only am I going back to work, but so is the Mrs. And she's taking the baby along with her.
• I finally hung up some shelves for our micro-kitchenette.
• My wife and I have been sharing a computer for over half a year now. First mine went ka-put, then hers. She should be getting hers back in about a week. Thank God. The A/C chord on my machine is acting all loosey goosey.
• My brother's 28th birthday is today. His girlfriend has been planning a surprise party for him for well-over a month. She told him about it several weeks ago.
• Joss is teething. Bad. And the usual suspects (including Baby Orajel) aren't working, or at least not for any measurable moment of time. But we found that the Baby Einstein videos do work. And I know that I've criticized them in the past (lack of vocab for viewers, according to a study), but we try to watch it with her and interact with her when we can.
• And it's only until this horrendous period passes, right?
• And it'll pass any moment now, right?
• I'm leading Bible study for our small group on Monday for the next three weeks. We'll be talking about Jesus and the Kingdom. Gospel of Matthew.
• The CEO of my district is coming in on Monday. I just found out today. I am so scared.
• I'm trying to get at least a post up each day. So that way, I can soon have an audience in the millions like Scot McKnight has. And then I can sell books too.
• I got some work done on my memoir/collection of essays that I've been working on & off with since the summer. I feel good about it. I may post some stuff soon. Especially if I can't think of anything else to post.
• We moved Joss to the other bedroom. There's a monitor in our room. This way, we won't bother her when we go to bed. Unfortunately, she can still bother us.
• My computer's AC adapter is broken. New one coming by the end of the week (hopefully). So this kind of delays my plans to write a new piece every day.
  

Everyday Radiance

Why don't I have this novel yet?

It has seemed to me sometimes as though the Lord breathes on this poor gray ember of Creation and it turns to radiance -- for a moment or a year or the span of a life. And then it sinks back into itself again, and to look at it no one would know it had anything to do with fire, or light. That is what I said in the Pentecost sermon. I have reflected on that sermon, and there is some truth in it. But the Lord is more constant and far more extravagant than it seems to imply. Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don't have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see. Only, who could have the courage to see it?
-- Marilynne Robinson, from Gilead

h/t to Andy Whitman

At this moment, I'm holding my daughter as she's struggling to comprehend and eat her Christmas toys. She is the cutest thing (click here if you want proof) and soft and cuddly to boot. And her smile, when she smiles, is a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. It's a sunset over the ocean, with the salty breeze blowing just hard enough to smell it. It's Pentecost.

But sometimes when I'm away from her and my wife, I get saddened that I am not with them. It's a sort of every-day letdown. A feeling that I've come down from the mountaintop and that life is somehow more dreary, somehow less vivid, and I am less alive. Where's the sun, I ask in this classroom or that hallway or office? Where's the sweet sprinkle of sea water?

But, much like Moses only seeing God while on the mountain, much like the one reassuring vision that MLK had, the mountaintop experiences validate - and should not replace - the dessert years. That grace is recognizing the glory in our everyday lives. That I work for my Lord - as well as for my daughter and my wife. And, well, my own sanity.

Let's Play Catch-Up!

• Apparently, Ol' Bessie (aka, Cheap Acer - the term-of-no-endearment Mrs. jasdye gave her) was running on empty. The old hard drive just ain't what it used to be. An expensive inpatient stay at the Geek Squad informed me of that. Now I have to try to figure if I want to spend another couple bills fixing her or just start from scratch and buy a more reliable machine. Which I may or may not take with me to work (why should I endanger my machine for their work?, I keep asking myself. To no avail. I make a lousy conversationalist). In any case, I'm really concerned about my iTunes. Can I transfer all those tunes via my iPod into another computer? How does that work with the DRM's? Does anybody know? Stupid, stupid, stupid. I need to back everything up from now on out eight times over.
• I also lost my phone. I'm turning into Homer Simpson in things digital. Funny thing is, I haven't stored most of the numbers there anywhere else and I barely remember my own number. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I'm such a block-head.
• Mrs. jasdye and I have been looking for a new church now for a bit. Which has been hard for me, since my old church is like family. Old family, in quite a few cases. But, we're both really liking this church. It's about a mile from our house, it's multi-cultural (in some ways more so than our last - which is hard to find in the Evangelical tradition), has a congregation that is social/economically-mixed (also like our last church - with a mixture of homeless, yuppies, college students, hipsters, etc.), is laid back but mixes high-church liturgy (which is a mix that I'm pretty comfortable with and have been trying to get my old church to embrace), and speaks our language in terms of the redemptive work of God in the whole of the world through Jesus' death and resurrection. The one weak spot that we've noticed is that we would be considered in the older end of the church's spectrum, that being a very small window for the most part. But, like ourselves, it seems like the church is also booming out some babies and young'uns. So, we'll see and try to keep posted.