Baby Ivy

Well, obviously I do not have a true blogger's heart because I've totally left you all out in the cold, as far as updating regularly goes. But perhaps the unexpectedness of my blog posts are what really keep you coming back for more anyway.

I'm feeling a little retrospective tonight, a little melancholy, and I'm tempted to write a rambling post all about my feelings. How horrifying is that prospect? But before you move onto a more interesting, less angst-filled blog, let me assure that that is not going to happen, at least not tonight. Tonight I've decided to introduce you to one of my new favorite people, Ivy.

Ive is my niece, and she made her debut six weeks ago tomorrow. Her birth was a much anticipated, much lauded event. We were at the hospital almost twenty-four hours waiting for her to arrive and it was worth every boring waiting room minute.

At seven on Sunday morning we were awakened by a phone call that alerted us to the emanate arrival and so the mom and littlest sister, Maggie, went with Jessie and Rich to the hospital, and Sarah and I followed a few hours later loaded down with reinforcements in the form of breakfast sandwiches and coffee (Starbucks, obviously).

We spent all day waiting around for Ivy and then as the sun set and other families vacated the waiting room we began the really long wait, the wait until dawn. It was rough. I vaguely remember a trip to a 24-Hour McDonald's for chicken nuggets and fries since we were all starving by the wee hours of the morning. After food we were sleepy.



But we did not sleep because we were too busy watching this door for Grandma (or Mamie as she is currently being referred to) to bust through and tell us that Ivy was finally here.



But no such luck and so about 3am things really started to get interesting. After various rides on the elevator, a trip to the nursery to see all the babies, and exhausting all the reading material to be had in the waiting room, we got creative. We plugged in our various iPods and MP3 players and got our dance on.

Public dancing? No problem for the Hulme clan, we are well-versed in public spectacle, believe me. So, we danced.



And laughed.



And watched for the nurses so they didn't catch us...and then danced some more.



Finally a few hours later Mamie did bust through those doors and we gathered around her camera to see pictures of newborn Ivy. And then a little while later we got to actually meet her in person.



I've never been more proud of my sister in my life. Birth is an amazing, painful process, and as the British would say, she was a real brick. My brother-in-law was also fantastic, even standing up to a not-so-nice doctor in the final stages of labor. Well done both of you.

This is Ivy today.



Fantastic, right (mad props to my friend Melanie Andrich for taking the above photograph. Love it!)? She is a bundle of kissable cheeks and big sometimes blue, sometimes green eyes. It is a pleasure to hold her and pray for her and love her. I am thankful for this good gift to my family, and can't wait for all those "firsts" that come along with the first grand baby, and of course, that ultimate first, when she meets Jesus as her Savior. I've been praying for that day since before she was born and I will continue to pray that our good God will one day answer that prayer and draw her to Himself. Amazing love, how can it be?

Auntie Jeanne loves you, Ivy.

Well, so a bit of a tear-jerker, right? Ah yes, the best of both worlds. And, of course, that's why you read my blog anyway... :)

I Miss...

I miss this...

...and this...

...and this and this...

...and this...

...and this...

...and this...

...and this...

...and yes, even this.

I am missing them all so, so much today! I can't wait to see them (and a few others) in a few weeks. God has given me such a tremendous gift in the shape of these nine people.

The Older Brother

I'm teaching the parable of the Prodigal Son in 5-Day Club today. I love to study and teach this beautiful story and it seems each time I go back to it, God impresses a new truth on my heart.

Today reading through the story I approached the end and came to the bit about the older brother. Why does this wonderful story of redemption end on such a bitter note? Verse 29 and 30 hit me hard as I read:

"So he answered and said to his father, "Lo, these many years I have been serving you; I have never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him."

"Who has devoured your livelihood with harlots" - yeah, that's me. I have wasted God's good gifts on my own ends. My hands have shaped idols. But I am also the older brother. "I have never transgressed your commandment at any time" - I try to earn the forgiveness and love of God by my works, as if they are anything but filthy rags. Why this flurry of activity, when God calls me to rest?

What gets me about this story is that the older and younger brother both wanted their father's things, but tried to achieve them in different ways. Was there any real love for the father in the older brother's heart, even though he stayed? I don't think so, and that scares me. I am more likely to be the older brother in this story, than the younger. Trying so desperately to earn God's favor by my works, instead of looking to the finished work of Christ.

I am clothed in His righteousness, but I still try to pull on those filthy rags. Enough striving, it only produces frustration. Instead, let me fall on the grace that is in Christ Jesus and rest, "dressed in His righteousness alone, faultless to stand before the throne".

Lies

God is teaching me many lessons here in Little Rock. Lately, He's been teaching me a lesson I didn't know I needed to learn.

The lesson is about how I view myself. This past week I've realized that I don't often view myself through God's eyes, that is rightly, but instead I view myself through my dad's eyes.

My biological dad died when I was five. My mom remarried when I was seven and her husband adopted me and my brother and sister when I was nine. He was really the only dad I ever knew.

The way he viewed me was as a burden. As too loud, too blunt, too truthful. I soon learned to keep out of his way. I never felt accepted by him. As I entered my teenage years, our relationship remained tumultuous. But I never wanted to be a victim, and when I was nineteen God granted me the grace to forgive him. I mean, really forgive him.

However, lately I've realized that there is still some hurt there, wounds that God needs to heal. I don't really want to address them. I'd rather ignore them, and go on with my life. I don't want to dwell.

In the past several years, since my mom and dad divorced due to his continued emotional and mental abuse and infidelity, my mom has reminded me about certain ways he abused me. I can't even remember them. Could I really have blocked out so much?

I figured it would be best for those memories to stay buried. I don't want to re-hash the past, but recently they've kept me from experiencing the fullness I have in Christ. I can't accept other people's acceptance of me, as strange as that sounds, because I am quite suspicious of it for one thing, and for another, I don't feel like I could possible deserve it.

Not that I do. Not that I deserve anything, however, I know that in Christ I am accepted, regardless of what I do or don't do. What? That is so strange to me. I've been trying to earn love all of my life.

I think God wants to heal my heart, but it's painful to face the lies I've been believing for so many years. And yet, I'm asking that God heals my heart and continues to replace all those lies with His truth about who I am in Christ: accepted, loved, forgiven, welcomed. I want to be able to give and (more difficult for me) accept love.

Isn't it funny how easily we believe lies about God, and consequently, ourselves? What lies are you believing? And how does what God has done in Christ Jesus combat those lies? How does the gospel make a difference in your life?

The Love of God, A Prayer

Our Father, which art in heaven, we Thy children are often troubled in mind, hearing within us at once the affirmations of faith and the accusations of conscience. We are sure that there is in us nothing that could attract the love of the One as holy and as just as Thou art. Yet Thou hast declared Thine unchanging love for us in Christ Jesus. If nothing in us can win Thy love, nothing in the universe can prevent Thee from loving us. Thy love is uncaused and undeserved.

Thou art Thyself the reason for the love wherewith we are loved. Help us to believe the intensity, the eternity of the love that has found us. Then love will cast out fear; and our troubled hearts will be ar peace, trusting not in what we are but in what Thou hast declared Thyself to be. Amen.

A.W. Tozer, 1897-1963

A Hulme Family Story

I spent last weekend with my family in Springfield.

We convened there in order to celebrate my little sister, Sarah's, birthday. I drove into Springfield tired and worn after my week in Little Rock and was met by my family who had already been there for several hours. My other little sister, Jessie, and her husband, the ever-accommodating Rich, recently moved to Springfield after their June wedding, and this was the first time we had all been there together. We had a great time of hanging out, eating delicious food, laughing, watching movies, and just being with each other, which is usually enough for all of us. We slept in late and then had brunch. After brunch, Rich suggested we all go to the park and play Ultimate Frisbee.

We stared at him in disbelief as one collective body of uncoordinated individuals.

My poor brother-in-law. He's such a great guy, very patient and loving and considerate, but he doesn't seem to know the Hulme family secret: we don't DO sports. Ever. I spoke up and said what a great idea, and let's do it! I, of course, was the last one ready to walk out the door. But walk out the door we did, armed with various frisbees and with our "game face" on.

As we pulled up to the park, we all noticed the playground. Swings!

Although our excitement for the game was momentarily overshadowed by the playground, we soon grew tired of that activity and began the game, which lasted for about ten minutes. I think the problem consisted in the fact that we didn't know how to play the game; "we" being the females of the family. Earlier, we had insisted that the game consist of boys against girls, and because the boys ultimately had no choice, that's how it ended up. Me, Jessie, Sarah, and Maggie, against Rich, Joel, Sam, and Joseph. I think another reason the game was so short-lived was because Rich is about two hundred feet taller than the rest of us. At one point I heard him say to Sam, "oh, let's just give them the point", this after the boys had scored three points and the girls still weren't sure which goal was ours.

It would have been funny if it weren't so sad.

The girls were the first to abandon ship. We straggled over to a tall tree and sprawled in it's plentiful shade. Rich and Sam (the most athletic Hulme) continued to toss the frisbee back and forth for a little while, but ultimately joined us, as did my mom and the dog, who had been off exploring the park grounds together. Jessie asked Rich if he was disappointed that we didn't play the game for very long (or very well, for that matter). Rich just smiled and said "I would have been disappointed if I had expected you to play".

Well, there you go.




The Hulme family, in all of our un-athletic glory. I still love us.