Plunges

Wyatt is incredibly adorable. That is certain. Especially now that he’s begun laughing a whole body laugh – eyes squint, limbs tremble, mouth opens and out comes crackles and the sounds a happy asthmatic might make. Plus, whenever something new grabs his attention or a new face enters his periphery, he still raises his eyebrows somewhere past his forehead and his eyes seem to be witnessing the second coming of Christ (as demonstrated in the picture above). I can’t stress enough how cute he is, and how much joy there is every new day resulting from his presence.

Yet (and I know this will probably need to be stricken from Wyatt’s psychological makeup as soon as I say it), I can’t help but think he is starting to look like Darth Vader did when Luke took off his helmet at the end of “The Return of the Jedi.” Stick with me here.

First of all, Wyatt’s hair is beginning to fall out, and although we can’t find any large clumps at the bottom of his crib we wouldn’t be surprised if some hair fairy were descending upon Wyatt in his sleep and extracting handfuls. Secondly, his head now appears quite large (like Vader’s) in relation to his overall body. And when you look at him from certain angles he appears to be 95% cheeks and forehead and 5% eyes, nose, mouth and chin, which is about how I remember Vader looking. Finally, he has delivered his first self-inflicted wound to his face via his fingernails. Although his last disfiguration is certainly to be blamed on poor parenting I plead ignorance. Whoever knew babies’ fingernails grew so fast! I have horrible visions of Wyatt ending up in some Guiness Book of World Records with his nails curling like seasoned French fries from his fingertips.

There, I’ve said it. I’m a terrible, awful, downright insensitive father. But, again, and I cannot stress this enough: Wyatt is incredibly adorable.

He – the little stinker – had a darn good time during his first church service at First Presbyterian Church of Owensboro. It began during the call to worship when he proceeded to empty his bowels and proclaim with his own toots and horns that the Lord’s Day was upon us. I didn’t hear it since I was up front as the liturgist, but Anna (who was holding Wyatt in the back pew) said many heads turned in shock and awe. He then followed his triumphant blast by speaking in tongues (and shrieks) during the sermon, which forced Anna out into the narthex of the church much to her dismay and our shared embarrassment.

Nonetheless, the church was more than glad to welcome and receive Anna, Wyatt and I, and we enjoyed a reception in our honor after the service this past Sunday. As Anna said later that day, it feels tremendous to be a part of a church family again, even if it has taken us a while to find ourselves located. For the past two weeks, members of the church have been bringing us dinner every evening, which has been a huge demonstration of their care for us. It has also provided a great opportunity to sample fourteen different varieties of green beans as that is the vegetable of choice come summer in Kentucky.

I began working at the church this past week – mostly setting up my office and conversing with the head pastor where the church has been and where it is going. A lot of my energy has been spent learning all the activities of the congregation while trying to remember names and programs and properly locate them on my mental map. It is surprisingly exhausting and difficult – especially since Sunday is really the only day to see the whole congregation in action. I keep telling myself to maintain a steady pace. It will come.

As evidenced by the lapse in blogs, our family life is just now returning to places where we can breathe again. I have found myself bouncing an image or reflection around in my mind that is appropriate for these last few months. I will share it as a way to briefly sum up many things: our move, learning to live with Wyatt, starting a new job.

The image derives itself from my time on lakes growing up. At some point I recall being out on a lake, swimming by the side of a boat. As a dare or as an act of stupidity, I was challenged to take a deep breath, submerge myself into the dark lake water, and swim under the boat - from one side to the other. (It is similar to the scene from “The Abyss” where Ed Harris is forced to travel from air pocket to air pocket to save a life.) Submersing myself beneath the boat was an act full of desperation – desperation fueled by the cost and risk. And while those above the water could not see me struggle or strain, the pressures and terror were very real. The journey from one “breathable” region to another was brief yet seemingly forever, and the angst produced from what could go wrong was what also led to such great relief at finally making it to the other side, which I thankfully always did.

In many ways, these last couple months have felt like “plunge” experiences - leaving comfortable, hospitable confines only to disappear beneath the surface of relationships and communities and then appear anew on the other side.

Thankfully, we’ve made it to the other side … or at least are well on our way to making it to the other side. The more we emerge, the more we shall breathe and exult over our safety in travels. And, hopefully, the more we shall blog …

Blessings,

Wes