Yes, we have the cutest baby. I’ve added more photos to the week 1 photo set.
We’re doing much better. Kathleen and I are starting to get into a rhythm. My throat feels better. Kathleen is still in pain but isn’t coughing as much. We’re getting used to the sleep. After our fun start last Sunday, any sleep feels heavenly, so one hour here and one hour there isn’t so bad.
Charlie is … weep … wonderful. What a gift! On Friday I taught him Life Lesson #1: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline.” (Proverbs 1:7) And some of you may be saying “whah?” Fear? In a way, yes, fear is a little part of it, but in the same sense that you would fear Mount Everest as you climbed it. You’re not running away from it and cowering waiting to be struck down. At the same time you have a healthy respect for something so grand and majestic and dangerous. The word used in this instance is the Hebrew word Yirah, which means “reverence for the Lord.” I want Charlie to know that, above all, we stand in awe of our God who gave us life and chose not to spare his own. That kind of love is terrifying.
Lesson #2 was doing his multiplication tables, which he memorized.
Cheers.
Only Maya Angelou can use this metaphor to discuss life and pull it off without sounding like an elementary school student. It was her inspirational theme while speaking to a large Seattle crowd last week, an event I was able to partake off due to a lovely collision of Harry’s thoughtfulness and my birthday! Think of every adjective to describe someone who is larger than life, and it would describe Maya. She was truly the phenomenal woman about whom she has written.
Of course, I am biased. I have read her works with awe and gratitude since high school, one of the few authors whom I sought for that long without obligation from teachers. I even deferred admission to Wake Forest, where she’s on faculty, hoping that someday I could learn directly from her. That still makes me shiver, but meeting Harry, going to Siberia, meeting my college friends, and allowing my dad’s retirement to occur before 80 certainly outweigh that scant possibility.
Anyways, her voice and message were rich. She alternated between sharing her own life experiences and reading poetry (both her own and others) to encourage us to believe in our unique gifts, see our potential to be rainbow amidst others’ clouds, and be thankful for those who have done so for us. She shared that without rainbows in our clouds, none of us could say “Good morning” everyday. None of us could continue through life keeping our heads high. At the end of the night, the woman sitting next to me, who came by herself, tearfully told me she really needed to hear Maya’s messsage. I could see in her eyes that she had been in a desperate place and was leaving it. I may never cross paths with this woman again, but she blessed me that night through her vulnerability. I believe she left changed, encouraged, and renewed. I believe this was the case for most of the audience. What incredible work.
This is what I want to remember to strive for: to be like Maya was for the audience, so that each person I encounter may know they are loved, unique, and special. In the midst of the daily grind, it is hard to remember that this is so important. Not only for our loved ones, but for strangers. For those whom a simple “Good morning” could make their day.
After much weeping and gnashing of teeth, I have separated the sheep from the goats in my very imperfect, non-What-Would-Jesus-Design way. And so, HarryLove.org is now open for public lambasting. Just don’t ask me what it’s for.
I realize it’s not a unique experience, but the course of how it happened was wonderful. I happened to view a site this morning that I usually only check on weekends (it’s about Seattle events and my weekdays tend to be eventful enough). Delightfully spying Anne’s name, I discovered that she was in Seattle tonight at 7pm. Given that my work schedule usually occupies me until 8, I was bummed but not distraught, thinking, I’ll catch her the next time. But my boss cheerfully gave me permission to see if my last client could come a different time, and she could! Hooray!!! After years of reading her books I could finally hear Anne’s voice! And she definitely did not disappoint. Staying true to her written expression, and I suppose, ultimately who she is, her responses to audience questions exemplified the gifts I savor in her storytelling: genuine faith and all its complications, humor, honesty, courage. Many times she had the audience roaring with laughter.
Due to arthritic hands, Anne refrained from personalizing books afterwards and only signed them with her name (although, after being asked to do so, I watched her graciously write a message for one woman which I imagine she did many times over). She joked that we could write our own messages if we wanted, so I took her at her word. Harry suggested, “Kathleen, you’re awesome! Love, …”, so I went with it. I imagine she must’ve seen my fifth grade yearbook message and thought either a) good thing she’s not an author, b) she’s full of herself, or c) interesting choice… Either way, I’m glad I personalized her latest book to myself. Thanks to my mom’s gifts of two signed books several years back, my collection is growing. Let me know if you want to borrow any of them…
I feel like this sometimes.
