The first year

I am thankful for my daughter’s first year of life, for it was blessed and it was good – it was a gift from God. It was love, and it was light. It was more than I could have imagined. It flew by faster than I cared, like with the blink of an eye. It made me happier and more worried, excited and more emotional than I’ve ever been. It’s been amazing.

Children change so much in their first year. They go from little lumps who lay almost perfectly still all the time, to almost-talking, toddling tiny people terrorizing your living rooms and bathtubs. Through 52 weeks, you wait and watch for every milestone – the first time they hold their head up during tummy time, and the first time they roll over; the first time they sit up without support, and the first teeth breaking through their gums; the first time they crawl, then stand, then walk; their first words. Waiting  and recording these milestones makes the time pass so quickly, it’s hard to believe. But of course, it’s what we all do. We grow up.

But for now, after this first year of parenthood, I pray that time may slow down. That I may not miss a minute; that I may cherish every moment. That I may enjoy my daughter’s childhood, and that she may enjoy it even more. That she continue to learn and expand her mind; that she continue to explore in safe environments. That her innocence may be protected, and that her personality may grow even more defined and more vibrant.

And most of all, I pray for her continued health and happiness. I am so thankful that the common ailments in infants has eluded my daughter’s health in her first year of life – she had no ear infections, no colds, not even a bit of diaper rash. I’m thankful even more – after hearing of so many stories from first-time moms – that we’ve never had to take her to the ER for any type of emergency. I’m grateful for I know my daughter is kept safe in God’s hands, always.

And as for her happiness, in this, we have also been blessed. Everyone always comments on how our daughter constantly smiles, and how they never see her cry. God has blessed us tremendously with a happy baby. She never cries when someone new picks her up; in fact, she tugs at their ankles like she’s known them all along. Already she is personable. She laughs when we laugh, as if she knows exactly what is going on. And I am amazed by her. I understand that she is only 1, so she isn’t aware of things that should put a frown on her face; but still, I am amazed. She has a smile on her face all the time, and it is something I would like to learn from her. She may only be 1, but she teaches me so much every day.

Thank you, Father, for our precious daughter, whom you blessed us with one year ago. Thank you for allowing us to celebrate her life, and help us in the years to come to teach her to celebrate Yours.

Every good and perfect gift is from above

- James 1:17

A romantic night out

They asked him if we’d care to join them on their evening out in town. I overheard him say, “No, I’ve got something special planned for her.”

It caught my attention because my husband rarely plans romantic evenings out for the two of us. He’s not much of a planner – always going on a whim. And being on an island with a baby where we don’t have anyone to babysit for us, we’re always a party of 3 instead of 2. We love it that way, but when we visited my parents for the holidays, we did take advantage of their offers to take care of the little one.

So to hear that my husband planned a romantic night out for just the two of us intrigued me, to say the least.

We drove away, and images of fancy dinner settings and a starlit beach immediately flooded my mind. What will we do? Where will we go? Somewhere new, somewhere familiar?

Somewhere I did not expect: the local Asian market.

Confusion and the smell of fish sauce hit me as we walked into the store, perusing our way through persimmons and jackfruit, champagne mangoes and lychee jellies. We made our way to the fresh seafood – rows and rows of fresh fish lay on ice, staring up at us with cold, dead stares.

Romantic, huh?

My husband could see the consternation on my face. He turned to me, wrapped his arms around me and said, “How about a nice seafood dinner?”

He began to pick things for our dinner, and somewhere between the oysters and the crawfish, I raised an eyebrow and said slowly, “So… this is it? This is our romantic night out? We finally have a night out without the baby, and we’re just gonna go back home… and cook?”

He scoffed at my skepticism. He stood up straight, and looking into my eyes he said, “Yes. This is our romantic night out. If we’re gonna be spending a lifetime together, these are the things that have to be romantic. Us in the kitchen, cooking together like we do all the time – that’s romantic to me.”

I smiled, feeling tiny tears form behind my eyes, and I just kissed him. I kissed him because I didn’t know what else to say. I’d been so caught up in the excitement of finally being out, just the two of us, anticipating a date night like we hadn’t had in a long time… when all along, my husband has considered every night with me a date night. Even when we do nothing but sit on the couch and watch TV; even when my hair is a mess and I have no makeup on; even when he’s home late from work and we only have an hour or two together until the baby is up – every night is a date night. Every moment is romantic. And I’m thankful to have a partner who feels that way because that is what’s going to keep our romance going for years to come.

Romance isn’t found in a fancy restaurant or somewhere secluded under the stars. It’s in us. The romance is in us.

2011 I’m In Love, a review by WP

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,900 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 32 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Please, Thank you, I’m sorry

I stepped inside the McDonald’s and quickly realized why the old man wanted to meet here so early on a weekday morning to discuss our rental agreement. Every seat was occupied by elderly folk, eating breakfast over newspapers and conversation in different languages. I’d seen a similar view at the park back home, where all the elderly would gather early in the morning for walks and soothing sessions of Tai Chi.

We meet and all professional matters were quickly discussed, and then he asked about my husband and how my pregnancy came along thus far. I told him we’d been married just months prior, and he told me he has been happily married to his wife for 60 years.

“There are three things you should know for a happy marriage,” he said in a slow drawl. “Three phrases. Do you want to know what they are?” I told him to please do.

“‘Please’, ‘Thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’.”

I smiled. I smiled for his sentiment and his wisdom, and I smiled because my husband and I already knew the power of these three simple phrases. Early in our relationship, I’d established how important saying “please” and “thank you” was to me, as a sign of respect, not only to each other but to anyone. And we’ve had our share of arguments, big and small, to understand the power of “I’m sorry.”

“Every morning, I always ask my wife to ‘please’ bring me my coffee. For 60 years, always please. And I always say ‘thank you’ when she does,” he recounted for me. “And as the husband, I’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ a lot. It’s good to say you’re sorry even when you think you’re not at fault, and especially when she thinks it’s your fault!” He laughed. “When you love each other, you shouldn’t waste time on fighting.”

I understood what he meant. Often people think that to apologize first is to give in, especially if you’re not “at fault.” But maybe instead, sometimes we apologize first because we care more about the relationship than our ego.

I left the old man afterward, feeling content and uplifted. Praying for him and his wife, that they may have more blissful years of marriage. And I prayed for my own marriage – that my husband and I would continue on the road we’d so strongly established.

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. – Ephesians 4:32

As he sleeps…

As he sleeps, I whisper words of “I love you” into his ear. A slumbering smile emerges on his face, his dimple appearing easily. It makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter like the first dawn of our love, and as I giggle, his smile gives way to a soft laugh.

He turns his body toward mine and pulls me closer into him, intoxicating me with his warmth. Our legs dance together beneath the sheets, and he snuggles his head into the crook of my neck, like a kitten cuddling into a pillow. When he feels my face so close to his, he brings his lips to mine for one sweet kiss as we pass from dream to dream. He whispers my name before he settles into the unconscious once again.

And in these wordless exchanges of the night is where I feel his love the most. The romance exudes from him even as he sleeps. Subconscious affection. Instinctive tenderness. A passionate reflex of love.

In every matter, whether in consciousness or in sleep, he assures me that I am adored. Cherished. Loved. Every hour, every day and every night.

 

(Originally posted August 22, 2010)

A Rose by any other name

A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet…

She had many names. Rose, Mom, Grandma, Great-Grandma, Aunt, Sister, Daughter, Wife. But no matter what we called her, she symbolized the same thing to all of us – Love.

In a room filled with people who love her, every person speaks of how much she meant to them. They mention stories of the past, trickled with laughter. They speak of what they feel now, sodden with tears. Eyes strain as memories swim. Hearts break remembering her love.

From the day I met her, she did more than make me feel like I was part of the family. She made me part of the family. We’d talk for hours, and I loved how her eyes would light up depending on what we conversed about.

But what I’ll remember most about her was how she made me feel. She always gave me the sense that I was doing good. That I was doing right… By her, by the family. Because every time I was with her, she would look at me. She would look right into my eyes without saying anything for a while, and then she would say, “I am so happy he’s with you.”

It made my heart want to cry each time she said it.

She said she could see how happy I make her grandson, and how happy she was to see him that way. She constantly spoke of how proud she was of him and of our life together. I could always see the genuine admiration in her eyes, and I became elated that she welcomed me this way.

She made me feel special. And I know that I am not the only one affected in this way by her. She made us all feel special. She nurtured us, supported us, mothered us, loved us.

And I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say… I am truly blessed to have been loved by her.

We miss you dearly, Grandma Rose. Though you weren’t able to meet your great-granddaughter, she will get to know you through all of us. We will show her the same love you showered on us, and you will never be forgotten. We love you.

It’s in the way we love

It’s in the way a few days feel like a lifetime.

It’s in the way he picks up on the small things, and how he remembers the things I’ve mentioned only once before.

It’s in the way he always looks at me when he says he loves me.

It’s in the way we always say “please” and “thank you” because we know how these simple phrases shape a lifetime of respect.

It’s in the way I’ll say something out loud that he’d just been thinking.

It’s in the way he always reaches out to me, be it with his hand or with his heart.

It’s in the way I breathe him in, and how his scent is familiar and new, all the same.

It’s in the way we hold each other and mold perfectly into the other, like I literally melt into his arms and he wholly covers me with all his warmth.

It’s in the way we make each other laugh, and how we can laugh at each other without offense.

It’s in the way we are real with each other because that’s the only way we know how to be with one another – absolutely real: beauty and blemishes, without masks, without makeup, without wonder. It’s in the way we see the flaws as a part of our fulfillment.

It’s in the way he looks for my smile, and how he makes sure I stay smiling all day.

It’s in the way he tries to change certain habits I dislike, and how I can only sigh with a smile when he reverts back a few days later.

It’s in the way he learns my favorite songs on the guitar.

It’s in the way we’ve never had to think about how to be with each other, how to act or what to say. It’s in the way we let it happen, and how it happens every day. Naturally, like we’ve been doing it forever.

It’s in the way we can see the long road ahead, and how we know it will not be a boring journey.

It’s in the way we’ve never asked how long we think we’ll be together or if we’ll last. It’s in the way we’ve always talked about growing old together.

We just know. It wasn’t like a light bulb turning on or a thought hitting us like a train. It was like once we started, we remembered that we knew all along. We’ve just always known. As if we’ve always been. And that’s how I know we always will be.

How she says “I love you”

She likes to stare. A piercing, unwavering stare. With hardly a blink, she takes it all in with her almond-shaped eyes. Eyes that run over our faces, looking at every feature – forehead, eyes, nose, mouth.

And then she raises both of her hands and touches them to our cheeks. Not just with the tips of her fingers – she opens her hands wide and gently places her palms on her faces. The first time, I thought she was just being cute. By the tenth time I knew, this is how she says, “I love you.”

She coos as she holds our faces in her hands. She smiles spontaneously, and I marvel at her. I stare right back into her dark eyes, and months ago, I might have wondered what she was thinking in these moments. But now, after she’s grown for six months, I know that she knows who she’s staring at. She knows who I am; she knows who her father is. And she lets us know by touching our faces in her own unique way.

With her tiny hand resting against my cheek, all I can do is look at her in awe. I lightly run a finger against the smooth skin of her cheek, and I whisper to her, ”I love you, too.”

Snuggle Sunday

There’s something about Sunday that just makes us stay in bed long after we’ve woken up. We open our eyes peacefully, content with however much or little sleep we’ve had. We separate just enough to look into the others’ eyes and say “Good morning,” and then we turn back into each other, snuggling gently into each other’s warmth.

Just as it was when it was the two of us, so it is now with our little one. Morning is her favorite time of day – always, she wakes up with her biggest and brightest smiles. It’s as if she’s so excited for whatever the day shall bring. And though the days of a five-month-old are all relatively the same, her excitement never ceases.

Every morning, I look over to her crib and I’ll see her, awake and happy, cooing softly to the pictures on the wall. Saturdays, we let Daddy sleep in. But Sundays, he wakes with us and he always points to the middle of the bed and says, “Bring her here.”

I place her between us and we marvel at her, talking and playing with her and cherishing her morning smiles. We snuggle as close as we can, our cheeks on her cheeks, and she reaches up to touch our faces. It’s her way of saying, “I love you,” and it warms my heart every time.

These are some of the moments I will cherish forever. These snuggle Sundays with my little family God has blessed me with. The last five months have seemed to have gone by so fast, while at the same time feeling like a whole lifetime. Most days, I feel like my heart might soon burst with all this goodness and grace. And then I thank God for these Sundays - and every other day - for I know this isn’t simply the start of a new week. It’s the beginning of a whole new life.

***

My apologies for my lack of consistency in posting new stories every Sunday. New motherhood has filled my days with round-the-clock caregiving, whether they be necessary (feeding, changing, soothing baby) or unnecessary (playing with her nonstop because I just can’t get enough!) (which could be argued as also being very necessary). I don’t believe God wants me to totally abandon my writing, so I promise to write when I can. And as always, thank you for reading. May God bless you!

To be there and be theirs

The first time I was hospitalized, I was 5 years old. I remember my mom helping me drink from my glass of milk, and my father feeding me chicken noodle soup. I remember how one of them always stayed with me through the night, and how I’d cry when I awoke alone. I remember crying, thinking I was dying, and them soothing me with assurances that I would get better soon.

When I was 21, my cousin helped me nurse a fever. I had been in my room all day, sweating it out, when she came to my room with a towel, a bowl, and some movies. She turned on one movie before climbing into bed with me, dipping the towel into the bowl, which I now could see was full of ice water. She lay the cold compress onto my forehead until my temperature went down.

Now whenever I am sick, my husband cares for me. He tucks me into the warmest blankets when I have chills. He makes sure I have the best medicine. He buys the most expensive and organic juices so that I have the best fluids flushing my body of sickness.

And most of all, he prays for me. He lays hands on me and prays. And that is the very best way he cares for me.

There is something very humbling and wonderful when people other than your parents care for you. When they take time out of their day to devote themselves to you, be it in minutes or hours. Or, as in a marriage, a lifetime. A lifetime of caring for someone, more for them than anyone else, including yourself.

Would you be there for your friend, your cousin, your loved one without them having to ask? Would you hold their hand and feed them soup? Would you help them break a fever or just sit with them as they rest? Would you go the extra mile to help someone feel better, simply because for a while, you’ve made them yours? Yours to care for. And in that same moment, you’ve given yourself to them. For a little while or for a lifetime, would you be theirs?