Making Light of Things

December 2007 Archives

Man Enough

The scans confirmed that number 2 going to be a boy. Faith and I are a little overwhelmed at the thought - we’ve only ever had sisters and a daughter. I’ve always been a little harder on guys. I notice that while taking care of the kids in church.

Although girls engage in frivolous stuff like painting their nails and brushing their hair, boys do genuinely stupid things that result in people (mostly themselves) getting hurt. They’ll be climbing, kicking, punching, making a lot of noise, high from the nail-polish fumes coming from the girls’ corner.

The only experience I have bringing up a boy is my own childhood, and it’s the furthest thing I’d recommend to any parent of a boy. I fought my way through primary school, never did any homework and even wrote hate notes to my mother. They weren’t exactly “I hate you”, but snippets of 80s song lyrics that expressed my melodramatic oh-so-hurt inner child.

I wouldn’t know how to deal with me, and that scares me silly.


She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that ‘s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

- Lord Byron

Faith got a haircut yesterday. She looks stunning.

Full Rack

We just got home from the Children’s hospital. Anne started shivering badly (not epileptic fits) at about 2 in the morning. Upon arrival at the hospital she registered a 40.1 degree fever. We spent the next hour and a half putting cold compresses on her forehead and neck, much to her disagreement, which she made known to all in the waiting area.

The temperature subsided and she was back to her normal self. This little girl was jumping, skipping and chatting non-stop. Oddly enough, a few other children were too. The hospital, often a last resort for parents, doesn’t always tell the full story: the agonising few hours before the parents decide to go to the hospital. Oftentimes the children get well on the way there, and many get the shuteye they needed while waiting to see the doctor.

Our ordeal tonight looks to be over for the most part. Thank God she’s fine.


One of the most difficult things to explain about the Christian faith has to do with Jesus being the Son of God, while at the same time God Himself. To be quite honest, I don’t get the whole mechanics of it. Had a small revelation tonight as I was washing poop out of Anne’s PJs.

Anne has had a problem with constipation, and it’s gotten worse since our return from New Zealand. The last time she pooped she cried, and we found a bit of blood. She had probably gone too long without pooping.

Tonight she kept telling us that she was scared. We initially thought it was the television show she was referring to, though both of us weren’t sure American Inventor fell under horror, unless Anne meant the terrible “suspense” music. We then realised she was terrified that she had to poop.

It totally wracks your heart to see the little two year old girl walk around listlessly, rubbing her tummy, constantly coming to you for a hug and telling you she’s scared. She didn’t want to sit on the potty, so we let her stay in our bedroom. She told us to wait outside. When we turned American Inventor down we could hear her whimpering in the bedroom, but everytime we popped our head in, she told us to wait a while more.

“I love you,” I told her.

She tilted her head to the side, holding back tears, and said “I love you” back.

My baby. My daughter. My love.

She’s now sleeping. The poop did eventually make it way out, down her left pant leg and unto the floor, but we’re thankful that there was no blood. She returned to her normal self soon after. Faith read her her bedtime story while I did the necessary laundry.

The revelation? I never understood why Jesus had to be “God’s Son”, but I’ve always known that Jesus came to earth to show us the extremes God would go to bring us back to Him. It would have been one thing for God to suffer on the cross; it would have been infinitely more painful for Him to helplessly watch His Son suffer and die.

Just so we’d know how much.

Data Tables Fixed

There has been so much I wanted to post - about the trip, about coming back, about growing up.

To spare you the details, problems popped up with, but they’ve been fixed. Will resume posting.

Bicycle Built for Two

The trip to New Zealand was good for us. It was our first trip out as a family. Faith and I aren’t exactly very adventurous, so venturing outside of our comfort zone brought about a little trepidation initially. We took it step by step, hoping to survive the plane ride, then day one, and so on.

We all took turns to battle the flu bug. By God’s grace, we survived.


We spent the last few days in Cook Beach, on the Coromandel Peninsula. We rented a beach house, known in these parts as a bach, off the internet. The drive from Auckland to Cook Beach would take a little over 2 hours, according to Google Maps. What Google Maps didn’t account for was the mountainous region we’d be traversing over. It took us around 4 hours to get to the bach. A good portion of the trip was windy and winding, great for drivers seeking a World Rally Championship experience but sucky for a pregnant woman and 2 year old daughter. Oh, and for the husband who made their comfort his sole priority.

The bach was beautiful. The whole gang had a whale of a time, culminating into an all-out New Zealander-styled BBQ. But somehow the holiday home experience felt so hollow to me. Many bachs along the same stretch were unoccupied. It seemed that all of Cook Beach - its dairy, hamburger joint and drinks store - existed only to serve holiday makers. It wasn’t a town that subsisted on its own. It seemed to lack a soul.

I’m not sure why, but I felt like I needed to connect with a real, living community. I was looking for Stars Hollow. The lack of internet access, street lights and human noise was a little unsettling. It made me glad to have a family to huddle up with.

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