Batiansila Blog. We Will Wait.

New Home

2010-10-22T12:49:00.003-05:00

I've been working on migrating this blog to a new spot, www.batiansila.com . I am sentimental about leaving this url. It's just that there's so much more for me to do at the new url...please follow me if you can.

www.batiansila.com

Motivations

2010-10-21T10:41:00.000-05:00

We just have to do it.

That thing you know you have to do, the one you promised or the one that is right. The one that takes extra time, but helps others.

You have to do it, and you have to stop waiting for the correct motivation to do it. That's the trap. The devil's in the motivations. He doesn't want you to do it.

Satan can't assail the good thing. It's good and he can't change its goodness nor its impact on who receives it.

So he sets out trying to keep you from doing it at all. Listen to the whispers today - "He only apologized because he HAD to," they whisper. "He's helping those people so he can get people to look at him."

Here's a good one: "I will do it, but I'm just not in a good place right now. I'm too (fat, tired, upset, insert MadLibs adjective here)."

When you listen to the whispers...who suffers? When you abstain from the good deed, the thing you promised, the obligation, the kindness, you suffer, and the recipient suffers. And people around them.

Worse yet, you're nowhere you're supposed to be. You were supposed to the thing, and let God do what he wanted with you and that deed. Screw the motivations. Do it.

Ethan's Birthday

2010-07-16T08:31:00.001-05:00

My Ethan turned 7 yesterday.

I'll let alot of you who know me...who know what has happened for 7/8 years...to stop and take that one in.

So I remember Ethan being born. I remember going through the tension of the birth and the tension of everything and remember holding him and thinking: I don't even know where I'm going to live in a month.

It feels like not much has changed in 7 years. Still trying to figure out where my address will be in September and living on the razor's edge.

Then again, so much has changed...so much it hurts. A lot of joy and pain. A lot of living.

Ethan is the gentlest of spirits with profound gifts. He's got big eyes that get bigger as he tells a story. He sings - oh my, he can sing - and every day, he goes and noodles on the piano, finding thirds and playing with a strange moving left hand against notes with his right.

But Ethan's greatest gift was given to him. He has a heart for Christ that is really different from any of his brothers or sisters, different from any kid I've met. He talks about Jesus all the time.

We're throwing the baseball and I keep telling him to stop flinching at the ball. And stop waiting for it. Step towards it and catch it. "Like Jesus, right dad?," Ethan offers from his "Little Visits With God" head, "we have to reach out to him and not be afraid?"

Yes Ethan. We have to.

Everything Would Not Be Better

2010-07-13T23:01:00.001-05:00

There's nothing rational about writing a note to your dad in Heaven on Facebook. I think it just shows what you're doing, which is trying to show everyone the hole in your insides so that they can...something.

Because what everyone's going to do is the only thing everyone can, and that is to tell me that hey, 77 years is a good long time. And Zoe wasn't supposed to be around too long.

These are both true statements. I'll even help with the true statements: Dad was so frail that I was afraid I'd break him when I hugged him, which was just strange. My favorite explanation of Dad's athleticism was when he assessed Andreas and me: we were better athletes. We played more sports well, had a wider muscle knowledge of lots of different things.

But, he said, he knew he could beat us in a race. Him in his prime, it wouldn't be close.

All bravado? I don't think so. I saw him run. And I also think he was being generous with his sports assessment. The point is, this was a guy who wasn't just good, he knew he was good and he was plainly unafraid-from a physical perspective-of anything.

So hugging him and feeling like I could snap his ribs wasn't right. I'll throw that in on our list of reasons it's grand Dad and Zoe are gone.. I'm of course not even mentioning how good he's got it now, and Zoe. How his heart only had to be broken for four days - four days from Zoe going home to his death.

I have no idea why I keep crying. Just all these jagged edges sticking out. Pride and pain. Missing. Dad and Zoe both had sweaty heads. So if my head sweats, I break down because I'm them and they are me and yet they are gone and I'm here and nothing is right.

Nothing would be better if they were here. I'd be sleeping less, owe a lot more. I'd be crying about their physical state.

But nothing is better now that they're gone. Not sure where to put it. Turns out the fist-sized hole in my wall was as cathartic as a Facebook post.

Help Is Hard

2010-07-13T22:51:00.000-05:00

I didn't make this up.

I got a call sometime in the last three years from a guild or something at church. The holidays coming up and all, so maybe you all would like a Thanksgiving dinner?

I'm kind of a food snob, but honestly, with Jen in the hospital and just so much going on...we were swimming in so much...I was actually interested. Sure. A holiday dinner would work. And it would be kind of comfort food.

They said to swing by on such and such a day to pick it up.

So I did and I got a frozen turkey and some boxes of stuff. Ta-da! Help!

Quickly...I don't fault the church or anyone. We were given something, and it was very nice. It was. It's just a great thought for all of you who are caught staring at a person in pain, and you're asking them if you can "do anything." "Is there anything I can do?" "If there's anything I can do."

For those paralyzed in pain, lost in shame, being specific won't come easy. You are the helper. Do your best to give something beyond a frozen bird. Love specifically. Love recklessly.

Caleb

2010-07-09T11:24:00.002-05:00

Caleb has Trisomy 18. Jen spends a lot of each day checking her Facebook and hoping he's ok. In this video, you'll see he's pretty ok.

Oh, by the way, the Social Security Administration denied Caleb's parents for Social Security. Because the SSN doesn't understand what is needed to care for a Trisomy 18 baby - he's practically dead, don't you know - they denied the application.

Cathal

2010-07-08T16:18:00.000-05:00

Jen and I have been spending a good amount of time on our laptops. We sit in bed next to each other on our laptops. We'll comment on things to each other and then on our laptops. For me, it's work. I'm handling some grassroots stuff on a volunteer basis for a friend.

Jen's staying connected to the other moms of Trisomy babies around the world.

I have to admit that I just want her to stop. It breaks her heart. It frustrates her, it drives her crazy. She reads about children being denied medical care because they have Trisomy. About an 18 year old mom who doesn't know what to do.

More than once, Jen has asked, "C'mon. Can't one live? Can't we have one?"

Mostly, the answer is no. Today, sitting at my computer and complaining silently about all of the work I'm doing while being unemployed, I witnessed the birth and death of a Trisomy 18 baby named Cathal.

I don't know Cathal from anyone. Just I know it's not fair. This isn't fair.

What's Happening

2010-06-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

Jen says I should come on here and write some kind of farewell.

I don't know if I'm done. I just don't know. I don't want to come on here and whine about how terrible, how awful, how unrelentingly painful it is to be unemployed when what you did was live out the gifts God gave you, to be filled with unrelenting passion every morning.

A few of my friends approached me, and one had no idea where I was emotionally or psychologically, and both impressed on me how I had to forgive the people for what they've done to me.

That's a tall order, and not just because the people who fired me left me with four days of health insurance and no severance at all.

It's because I will probably forever be the kid picked last. The short little runt, shortest or second shortest in his class, and when they picked me last, I said to myself, "I'm gonna make them all pay." And I did.

It's hard not to just be motivated by pure vengeance.

But it's such a terrible motivator, especially minute to minute. Especially when you're feeling so much longing and loss at other parts of your life.

So this swirled muddle is a worthless place for a blog. What do you want to know? I'm still unemployed, nearly two months later. We've reached the end of all cash flow and we're hoping something happens.

We both miss our Zoe so much that it just makes me cry. Right now, it makes me cry. And what I'd do when anything like Zoe or lose my job happens is call my Dad and he'd give me the right thing. But He's done here on Earth, and... and I don't know.

Plus...Facebook. Twitter. Facebook and Twitter for people I'm helping.

I just don't think the story is over. Even if no one reads this or anything in the future, I think I"m not done. There's still a story to tell.

Talk to you soon.

Your Favorite Baseball Player Pitchin' Like An All-Star

2010-05-17T01:03:00.000-05:00

Zoe's friend Chris Sampson, relief pitcher for the Houston Astros, is getting some huge acclaim for pitching so well. He's a better man than pitcher, all the time.

problems.

2010-05-14T12:39:00.000-05:00

I have a huge justice problem. I want justice and I want it now. I want to see people experience the pain I am. Wrestle with supporting their family like I do. I want revenge.

Maybe I just have a waiting problem. I don't want to wait to find out what's on the next page, or what's in store. Not when so much seems to be riding on now. I don't feel like my family or my creditors or my dreams can wait.

Maybe I just have an arrogance problem. I've put myself in the middle of the universe and now that I'm searching, filled with questions and pain, the whole universe is. If I'm impatient, then the universe is impatient.

In this moment I am alive and Zoe's in God's arms. And the wind outside is wafting through the lilacs. A lawnmower grinds and hums. There's not a lot of problems in this moment when I live it with Him, in Him. The moment isn't the least bit clausterphobic.

Control

2010-05-10T08:46:00.000-05:00

My dad used to play medium pitch over hand softball. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it since, but it was a good idea: you pitch overhand but you can't pitch too fast. So instead of altering your swing radically for those moonball slo-pitches, you are kind of taking batting practice.

If this means nothing to you, it's ok. It meant not much to me when I was in second grade.

But my dad was good at the sport. He could pitch overhand - his high school career included several no-no's and even a perfect game. He could throw four pitches. And, he could hit. Now that I'm bigger and older, I realize that his ability to hit was pretty profound, all desire and physics. But he could rip the ball.

By second grade, Dad had already spent a good amount of time talking to me about the correct transfer of weight synched with the swing of the bat. Eyes on ball, wrists back. Efficient and powerful. Follow through.

So, I'd go to Dad's games and I was tasked with watching his swing. After the game, Dad would get in the VW Bug and ask me about each at bat, about what I saw. It was the gateway into so many aspects of what I was taught, who Dad is, and who he wanted me to be. At second grade, he wanted me to have excellent powers of observation and critical thinking, to offer my opinion to a superior unafraid. To assess an action independent of my overwhelming emotion.

I remember telling him that I thought he was moving in the box. Rocking back, then forward. That his eyes had left the ball and looked to where he wanted to hit. Looking back, it's occurring to me as I write this that one of Dad's biggest obstacles was when what he wanted to do got in the way of what he was doing.

So it's 35 years later and I'm breaking down what was and is. Critical thinking has allowed me to get a degree and success in a variety of fields. I've gotten pretty good at it. I realize I could have worked a lot less hard at work and still have my job. That I wish I would have made my older kids work harder at what they loved. That I should never have bought that conversion van. It's a long list.

I just got back from visiting my little brother. When I asked him about his life, he gave me a shockingly uncritical response. If you had xxxx and then xxxx happened, what would you have done? I asked. His response: that didn't happen. But, I offered, if you had xxxx in the past, then of course you'd be in a different spot. True, he responded, but xxxx didn't happen.

Everything is as it should be. God has guided events so that where things are today is where He wants them to be. No amount of critical thinking of the past or future is going to improve, add, or subtract from where we are now.

Our God Is In Control

by Steven Curtis Chapman

This is not how it should be
This is not how it could be
This is how it is
Our God is in control

This is not how it will be
When we finally will see
We’ll see with our own eyes
He was always in control

And we’ll sing
Holy Holy Holy is in our God
And we will finally really understand what it means
So we’ll sing
Holy Holy Holy is in our God
While we’re waiting for that day

This is not where we planned to be
When we started this journey
This is where we are
And Our God is in control

Though this first taste is bitter
There will be sweetness forever
When we finally taste and see
That Our God is in control

And we’ll sing
Holy Holy Holy is in our God
And we will finally really understand what it means
So we’ll sing
Holy Holy Holy is in our God
While we’re waiting for that day
We’re waiting for that day
We’ll keep on waiting for that day

And we will know
Our God is in control
Holy Holy Holy
Holy Holy Holy
Our God is in control
Holy Holy Holy
Our God is in control
Holy Holy Holy

Pin Prick

2010-05-05T01:49:00.000-05:00

Izzi told me that they were testing their own blood in class. They had to stick themselves, get some blood, and then perform a series of tests on it.

She couldn't prick herself. It was too hard. So hard that she actually had to ask someone else to do it for her.

I remember experiencing the same problem when I found out my Selah had type 1 diabetes. In 48 hours, you're in a class, and the teacher is telling you you have to stick your daughter. I wasn't the only parent in tears. Why was this happening?

I'm guessing there are more than a few of you out there who aren't quite sure what I mean. It's a pin, it sticks you. It won't kill you. It won't even hurt that bad. There's only a little blood, and then it stops.

That's all I have when I think of how we'll recall our lives here on this Earth. The odds of us remembering pain will be akin in amplitude and duration to remembering a pin prick. Remember that time you pricked your finger in high school? Kind of. I remember doing it. It didn't last long. I remember being afraid.

I Know My Redeemer Lives

2010-05-04T14:29:00.000-05:00

Job 19:25 (New International Version)

²⁵ I know that my Redeemer ^[a] lives,
and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. ^[b]

Job lost it all. His wife and his kids and his riches and his health. Job lost way more than me. And when it came down to the end of himself, Job just said: I know my Redeemer lives.

And if I could help, I'd say: that's it. I know the ending. I know that I'll see my daughter in her glory and my father in his, and all of Heaven rejoicing.

And there will be no tears. And this moment will be just a sliver of time.

I know that my Redeemer lives. And that's it. I don't know if I'll ever do the job I loved, or work with the people I love, or the clients I truly enjoyed. I don't know if we get to stay in this house.

I know my redeemer lives.

About Those Writing Samples

2010-05-04T08:16:00.000-05:00

Self-sabotage? I don't know what I have for writing samples. I always thought I'd be doing video, so I started to just get rid of them.

..he wrote.

The best, maybe the only, non-script I've written in the past three years I've written for you. Just not sure that's what a potential employer had in mind as he/she/they are looking for that sa-weeet web copy. Or billboard.

Right now, the goal is to scoop up whatever I can and hopefully not let my former employers do too much to Isabel's graduation, Selah's insulin, or Kellen's basketball camps.

distracted

2010-05-03T09:03:00.000-05:00

A cloudless blue sky and the sun - gone for weeks at a time through the winter - explodes through brand-new leaves and bursts through my window. Energy's 93 million mile journey ends on my skin.

Even in the spring warmth, the air of this place is harsher without my Dad. Without my daughter's smile and gurgle. Without a job.

We're pretty simple people, far less complex than we'd like to think. I heard an ad on the radio yesterday where a guy said his fiancee' had parted ways with him, and he was broken and despondent, but then she changed her mind, and he was so blessed. So thankful.

And I mocked him a little. To think our faith would be bolstered by the whim of a woman is as silly, I guess, as thinking that God is raining judgement on me through the shallow, selfish mind of my former boss. Why am I associating blessing and joy - or pain - with people's affirmation, or a few rays of sun? Am I that easily distracted?

What I've Got

2010-05-01T09:52:00.000-05:00

Woke up this morning and feel so confident that God will make this all right. I just experience spiritual and emotional decay throughout the day, as the worries and troubles mount. But for right now, I am the richest man alive. Family, brother, sisters, friends. And the cross.

And this song by my friend Robbie Seay. So lay aside the heavy doubts you bring:

Got brothers by my side | Sisters at my right | And hands that hold my own and won’t let go | Got a love that won’t subside | Leaving all my fears behind | And grace at every turn, and so I know || I am not alone | I am not alone | I will ever find that You’re my home | I am not alone ||

There’s a narrow road to walk | That’s wide enough for all | So lay aside the heavy doubts you bring | The strongest and the weak | Oldest and the meek | All meet at the cross, and we will sing ||

We are not alone | We are not alone | We will ever find that You’re our home | Oh, we are not alone | We are not alone | We will ever find that You’re our home | We are not alone ||

‘Cause You said You’d never leave us | When You came and when You freed us | You never left us for a moment, God | And You never will disown us | When we know that You are for us | You never leave us for a moment, God || The greatest and the least | Broken and redeemed | All meet at the cross, and we will sing | We will sing | We will sing | We will sing | We will sing ||

You came, and You freed us | And You will never leave us | Now we are singing, oh

What?? You haven't bought Robbie's album? What's wrong with you? If you follow this blog, then you love his ministry. And you know what he's done for this family.

Meet Me Here

2010-04-28T13:56:00.000-05:00

I'm writing this post from home, at my kitchen table.

I'm home, at my kitchen table because I was fired on Monday. And the reasons I was given were specious, and my replacement was already in the building, ready to be announced.

So, one day shy of the three month anniversary of my life's biggest tragedy, I've got a whole new one to ponder and explore.

God's promise is that he'll meet me here. So, come, Lord Jesus.

Dance In Peace, Michael Zechariah Clements

2010-04-19T23:23:00.000-05:00

On my way home January 28, Jenny told me that I really didn't want to see Zoe's frail lifeless body. She wasn't there, she told me.

So I didn't. I hang on to the last picture I took and even now, I close my eyes and try to remember what her smooth face felt against my cheek. Hear her laugh - best she could - when we played.

I think what destroys us parents is that Zoe is all better and we have to wait to see her. She can sing now, sing better than her mama, but we have to wait to hear it. That she laughs and can't stop talking like her brothers, but barring Jesus' return, we're stuck with piecing together our projection of what she looks like. And wonder if we'll know her, and she'll know us. On this earth, even after 96 weeks and 4 days, Zoe could barely lift her leg with a shoe on it.

Now her form is glorified and if you'd meet her, if you didn't know better, you'd want to bow down and worship her instead of the Glorifier inside her.

Bittersweet. Sometimes...heck, all the time, that's the best we get as parents. I raise my kids to grow up and be God followers, to love each other and work hard, and believe. Zoe did. And so do the others. But...I don't want them to go.

Bittersweet is what I'd call my relationship with my brother, Shane Clements. I found him on Twitter, a little over a year ago, asking us all for prayers for little Michael, even before Michael was born. He, unfortunately...yet fortunately...shares my torture. Minus 92 weeks and a day.

I never met Michael but I figure he's like his daddy, pressing and seeking God's heart, even right now. He's complete now, and his dad saw him broken and loved him all the same. Shane wanted Michael whole again, and Shane got his wish. After 17 days.

Michael is dancing with Zoe and he never had to know what it's like to lose, never had to learn what torture even means. Glorify. That's what he knows. Magnify.

And when God sees Shane someday, Shane's going to hear words I'll tell him now, but nowhere nearly as perfect or complete: You did it right, Shane. I'm so proud of you. Well done.

Fly Away

2010-04-15T10:23:00.000-05:00

We went to Destin almost two weeks ago. It's the last spot our entire family vacationed together, and it is, to a person, our favorite place in the world. The stretch of beach called Miramar has clear blue Gulf and powder-fine sand. When we visit, it's always idyllically warm, no bugs, just lots of suntan lotion and a day split between the beach and the pool.

Jenny walked down the beach, back to where we were last year, and as she walked, she discovered a little shell that we have all called "butterfly shell" because it looks like two wings joined almost invisibly in the middle. She brought her butterfly shell home.

A few days later, I went out at low tide. I just like it when the water's receded and sand bars protrude, as if you're there at Earth's first day, the first person to stand on a never-discovered island. I had no intention of doing anything but walking and listening to the waves, but I'm my father's son, and I saw flecks of beauty revealed in the receding water. Beautiful shells. I picked some up, and after a few steps, became selective.

That day I found some beautiful butterfly shells. Must have been the season for them. I didn't want to crush them, and being improperly prepared, I just held my shells in my right hand as I wandered down the shore.

As I returned, my hand was mostly full. Incredible colors, some intriguing fossilizations, some just perfect. I kept the butterfly shells on the top of my stack, so I wouldn't break them.

A funny thing happened.

A gust of wind would blow, and a butterfly shell would catch the breeze, and fly out of my hand. I'd stop, hustle to the shell before it was recovered by water and sand, put it gently back into my hand, and keep walking.

And it happened again. And again. And being my father's son, I laughed. Because Dad always found the appropriate amount of humor in things by imagining someone watching himself as he was doing something. Here I was, middle-aged man, walking down the beach, chasing shells flying out of my hand.

I couldn't hold the butterfly shells too tightly - they might break. And I couldn't keep them from catching the breeze. If I was going to take them back to our room, I'd have to keep chasing them.

We can't hold on to them tightly enough. We still can't. Whatever my dad and Zoe began as, they were made to fly away.

Zoe's Birthday

2010-03-22T18:50:00.000-05:00

I've started this entry three times, starting last night. And I've stopped and stared at my entry. It just wasn't good enough and I don't know. I don't know if I'm supposed to be happy or sad or if I'm supposed to miss her terribly or rejoice in her Heavenly home. I am all of those things.

But that's a lot of "I"s and that's what has made me stop writing.

This is Zoe's birthday, and from her first moment here, Zoe fought. Zoe fought and smiled while fighting. Zoe never said a word to me but I think if she could have she'd say that I'm supposed to be happy and rejoicing, and that I'm not supposed to quit. That she didn't quit. Her body was overcome by this sinful place but that, at best was a tie.

And now she wins.

I wish I could explain to you all of the things: the pressures and pain and temptations. The sadness that racks me almost instantaneously. The longing to look into her eyes. I wish I could explain how hard pressed I am at work, how Jen is staggering and stumbling - but bulling her way through her job.

But that's a lot of "I"s and it's Zoe's birthday.

Zoe lived simply and she loved completely and on her birthday, that's not a bad lesson for a mom and dad and family that are caught in a sea of stuff. Live simply and love completely. And smile.

On Zoe's birthday, she's given me a present.

He Knows

2010-03-16T12:13:00.000-05:00

God loved His Son as much as I loved Zoe. More. So the being that can create the Nile River and the Grand Canyon with a word watched as His Son died.

And He loved His son as much as I love Zoe. But for me, I yelled for someone - for God - to do something. But He didn't. Just like when His Son died.

God knows. This is something He knows. I've wrestled my whole life if God knows, really knows what it's like to be in a bad relationship like i've been or to be tempted like I am.

But this is something He unequivocally knows.

Two Things

2010-03-07T17:54:00.000-06:00

These two broadcast commercials are part of a huge on-air buy by Mr. Neumann everywhere but the Milwaukee market in Wisconsin. The commercial I shoot soon will include Milwaukee. I wrote and directed them with my team. As anyone in this industry knows....what you see isn't quite what I wrote...but close. :)

Featured: three of my kids...best friend...mother in law...nephew...

Blessed

2010-03-07T08:50:00.000-06:00

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. - Matthew 5:4

The sermon text last week was this verse, and the pastor went out of his way to explain that mourning might not just mean mourning a death, and that blessed doesn't just mean "blessed" but another word.

If you google the above verse, you'll get more sermons and thoughts from very intelligent men who say things like mourning might be if you lose a tough game.

I'm going to stick with the verse for mourn. I'm not the only man who has lost his father, and honestly, if the actuarial tables work right, many of us will lose one or both of our parents while we walk this earth. And you'll mourn.

And...losing a child - hopefully most of you will never even have to consider that loss. But you're going to find an almost larger-than-it-should-be part of our world has experienced.

So while mourn might mean a 3-2 loss, i'm good with leaving it mourning amidst death because that's where we live, you and I. In this terrible place where people leave every day. Every minute.

And I think the Bible guys got pretty close with "blessed." To me, "happy" is a frail thin shell of "blessed." To me, happiness is fleeting and non-essential. But blessed is necessary and worth seeking. "Blessed" meaning God is near. Not an emotion, just a statement of truth. "Heavy are rhinoceroses." Heavy is just what they are. We could try to figure different words to mean the same thing but we might do just as well to understand what "heavy" means.

The part where there's bigger holes in the translation is "comforted." Mostly because I'm not sure we spend any time knowing what that means. Meaning that most of us don't stop and think of how we comfort or if we know how to comfort or if the things we think are comforting are truly comforting.

Check this out: the verb is the same verb used in this verse in Matthew 18:9: "²⁹"His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.'"

The verb is the same as the part where the fellow servant begged him.

Ok, instead of "comfort", we have this verb that means to "call to one's side, beseech, to beg."

Who's doing the begging?

It says "they will be comforted." Me, the one who mourns. I am not the caller, not the one beseeching. Not the one exhorting.

This God who catches each of our tears in His palm is coming to us and kneeling in front of us and calling us to Him. He's the one who's opening his arms and gently, emotionally, with great care, calling us to Him. Please, Greg. Please come here. Please, Greg. Come here and put your head on my chest and let me enfold you with the only thing that will make sense. Come.

Sacrifice

2010-03-03T21:29:00.000-06:00

I'm using a cool iPhone app to try and read my way through the Bible. A lot stands out to me- a lot I thought I knew was slightly different than I remembered.

One of the most interesting parts is how early - by chapter 4 of the first book of the Bible - people are sacrificing to the Lord. And God's desiring it, even drawing conclusions about His people by their sacrifices. When Noah finally gets out of the Ark onto dry land, God makes his promise to never flood the Earth again - after he smells Noah's sacrifice. The way it's written, it's like God's promise was a reaction not to the severity of the flood, but to the sweetness of Noah's sacrifice.

Through all the stuff we've been through, I realize that our first reaction to tragedy is so childishly selfish, it's almost infantile. Jen called me last night. The van had a flat tire. I answered, "Oh...great." I was mad. we've had enough, haven't we? I don't want flat tires. When I found out about my father's tremendous decline, I was so angry. ANGRY. Is this the way God treats his servants? Lets them fall into terrible weakness? I was afraid. Afraid that in 30 years or so, that'd be me, and my kids would be struggling to deal with my weakness, and I'd be someone they'd be caring for.

Look, I don't want to sacrifice anything. I've been holding everything as tightly as I can. But the undeniable lesson is that what we're clutching isn't ours.

So it goes. I want Zoe back so I can hold her in her damaged body and feel her smiling face against my cheek. I want that. I want it so bad it breaks my heart. So does Nancy.

I never would have guessed life is this hard. But it's infinitely harder if we don't understand sacrifice, and how it pleases God and makes us somehow closer to the things He wants us to be.

The sacrifice He's asking for us us. To climb on to the altar and offer up our lives that we're so desperately trying to own and control. To learn the lesson that the earliest humans knew - that God loves a good sacrifice. It pleases Him. It draws Him close.

Take my sacrifice. I'm afraid I don't have much left. Make me new.

The Altar
by Nichole Nordemann

I'm at the end of myself, I just dropped out of the running
I don't recall when I last pulled the shades and said "here comes the sun, here comes the new day"
Someone remind me again that joy might show up on occasion
I'm sitting here with my hands on my head, and my eyes on the ground, wondering if I'll be found by You

Will you make me new? Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade.
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before, but I'm back on the altar

I don't believe what they say about one foot in front of the other
If my life was a map, you'd see every last step just circling around, still lost, never found by You

So will you make me new? Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade.
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before, but I'm back on the altar

Maybe last year I'd have made empty promises
Maybe last month I'd have tried to pull strings
But I don't have one single chip left to bargain with
The only thing left is me needing You to make me new

Will you take what's left of me?
I guarantee that it won't be a fair trade
Will you set me free from what's keeping me afraid?
I know I've prayed it all before
But I'm back
On the altar

Better Days

2010-02-27T08:54:00.000-06:00

I'm sure there are people out there who are pretty sure we're sleepwalking through these days. Tearful, sad. And that is true.

But then, it's also true that life didn't stop and wait for us to work through something. It hasn't stopped once when I cry. It moves on and some of it is incredible, hilarious, marvelous.

Aidan reported the other day that his butt felt better today. This was a relief, although we hadn't heard that his butt felt bad.

Last night at the dinner table Ethan was trying to break out the "made you look" that he had just learned. So he kept trying to get Selah to look behind her. He had the fundamentals down, although there were two major problems with his delivery:

1. tell someone to look at something that quite possibly could be behind you. A spider is always a good one. Ethan told Selah there was a HEDGEHOG behind her.

2. i capitalize HEDGEHOG to indicate that when Ethan said the word HEDGEHOG his eyes grew very large. He has big blue eyes, but now we would see the big blue eyes and lots of white. I was concerned I might have to pick an eyeball off of his plate.

We also have our first driver in the house. Isabel went to get her drivers license in a snowstorm. I told her as she went out that if she failed her test, and that was the worst thing that happened this week, then it'd be a good week. But she passed and now...now we don't really see her very often, but I hear that she's doing well.

Teia's been steadfastly cleaning stuff in our garage for a project she has in her sights. This is good because the project pays money and because our garage is getting cleaned. Teia is always steadfastly Teia, with both feet firmly on the ground.

Kellen's feet left the ground a few times last night while I almost lost my voice at his basketball game. I'm excited at how hard he plays and how he's beginning to understand that this life will demand so much of him. Yes, I'm one of those dads who believes athletics is a gateway to life. Would it surprise you to know that I was violently sick before a college tournament game but showed up for pregame, and coach told me to go back to my room, but i looked him square in the eyes and told him, "Coach, I'm playing." So I started and played the entire game. I remember none of it.

Selah earned a speaking part in her play, and did it incredibly well. Selah is an inspired liar. I guess it's best to describe it as "improv." She'll tell stories with so much energy and animation that you aren't sure what percentage is made up. Surely 50%. Surely she didn't stab Benny in the thigh with a pencil. But is Benny a real person? We keep listening, and she's smirking and giggling at herself mid-lie.

But there's still chats like the one I had with Elises above. And Jen, still in bed right now, clutching a little teddy bear that Zoe knew was hers. It's like the water's beautiful, inviting, warm. But there's a part that is so deep and cold.

Purple Paraments

2010-02-25T00:53:00.000-06:00

It's Lent, which is a better season than we give it credit for. There was a time, long ago, when i led a Bible study at my house, when we'd focus on the weeks and days that preceded Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. It just put my heart right, and it was always wonderful to walk with Christ...kind of understand his state of mind. If any of you out there were with me back then (i doubt it) ...i miss you.

One thing I know is that the season of Lent has 40 days, but is actually 45 days long. That's because the Sundays aren't included in Lent. Lent is a time of sacrifice, of focusing on Jesus' suffering. But on Sundays, we have to take care of business. Sundays are when we celebrate Easter.

So I was wondering if the paraments on the altar changed on Sunday. A complete Lutheran nerd question. I asked a few people and realized...as I pulled out of church...I'd just call dad.

I know that death happens to everyone and everyone who faces it runs into that moment. It happens when i come home from work, put my keys down, and turn the corner. And there's no baby. But the fact that we all share that moment of absolute loss means nothing to me. It sucks.

Anyways...let me share a song that I accidentally fumbled across on the way up to Dad's funeral. It was perfect...it still is. Bat and Zoe had the two most infectious smiles I might ever encounter. If you know what I know, you can't wipe their smile off your face.

There's A Reason
by mercyme

Now's the time
Let the redeemed celebrate
If you know what I know
You can't wipe the smile off your face
Oh people, stand up and praise

There's a reason to dance
There's a reason to sing
Of the sacred romance
With our Savior and King
We lift up our hands
We fall on our knees
To the Son of Man
The reason we are free

There's a reason

All glory to
The King of Kings, Lord of Lords
Oh the value of Your worth
No worldly treasures can afford

And we praise You forevermore

There's a reason to stand
There's a reason to shout, to shout Your name on high
So we take up our cross, there's a reason to die
Because Jesus is alive

There's a reason
You are the reason
The reason we are free

Old Pictures

2010-02-23T11:35:00.000-06:00

Teia's boss made an offer she can't refuse - sell his old stuff on eBay and Craig's List and she can keep 60%. Pretty good gig. Trouble is, our house is filled to the gills so Teia went out to our garage to make space for the boss's junk.

So, getting rid of some our junk so that she can bring some other junk in.

Teia came across a box of pictures - pictures from the old days. Pictures of other lives, houses. The kind of pictures where you have to guess what baby Dad is holding.

Kellen and Aidan could be twins. The big kids when they were the only kids. Little tiny Elise - with the big big wail. All this time passing...we're growing. We're growing old.

And I'm sure there's no time in Heaven. I'm sure that we're connected to those memories without the pictures. Connected to our praise and scars and those moments when we ministered and were left behind and found.

I'm sure that when I get there it will feel like I just entered along with the woman at the well and Dad and Zoe. And everyone will experience the joy, the flood of memory, the feel of wizened life and joyous rebirth you feel when you look at old pictures. It will make us young and old and perfect.

Something Terrible and Glorious

2010-02-19T13:43:00.000-06:00

I boarded the plane - a little one hour hop from Milwaukee to Indianapolis.

But it was the first time I've been on a plane since I was headed home and my Snoopy was gone, leaving behind a little 12 pound shell of cold beauty and sickness.

Gone.

As the plane rose above Lake Michigan, the plane banked, and through my tears I couldn't tell whether I was looking at the deep blue sky or the depths of the water. Shafts of sun made me avert my eyes. For the first time since I had left those weeks ago, I whispered something to Zoe. Maybe being a little closer to heaven and the imperceptible sky and depths I couldn't imagine made me feel closer.

When we landed I talked to Jen, who is fighting valiantly to hold on to what is true and right and peaceful in the face of all that is terrible and wrong and discordant. Writing thank you cards...that's necessary to show gratitude. But thanking people for...sharing in our grief, something we never wanted. It's all too hard. People aren't supposed to have to deal with this. Jen trying to process the outpouring of love and thank people for it while she wished it had never happened. Jen recounting her last minutes, her last months. The long lonely nights of loving our daughter. The long and lonely 25 days in the hospital in 2008.

Time will heal, we're told. But do I want to heal? How will time heal? Make us forget? Make us not remember the sound she made when she wanted to laugh? The moment she came out of surgery and I whispered to her to come back to me? Maybe I don't want to heal. Neither Jen nor I want to forget.

My friend told me today that I had gone back to work too soon, and he might have been right. But as I stretch myself out and work towards something, it helps me deal with those terrible and glorious moments, helps me find a breath to breathe.

I walk with utter peace. I laugh and joke and smile. And I breathe through tears and weep until I cannot stand. And that is what I did yesterday, and probably will today. Maybe for a long time.

My baby is gone, and she will never return. And that is terrible. God has taken her home and she knows love beyond that which everyone showed us, love beyond what I can understand, and that is glorious.

A Song For The Previous Post

2010-02-14T08:43:00.000-06:00

sift through the ashes left behind.

Beauty Will Rise
by Steven Curtis Chapman

It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed til my voice was gone
And watched through the tears as everything
Came crashing down

Slowly panic turns to pain
As we awake to what remains
And sift through the ashes
That are left behind

But buried deep beneath
All our broken dreams we have this hope

Out of these ashes beauty will rise
And we will dance among the ruins
We will see it with our own eyes
Out of these ashes beauty will rise
For we know joy is coming in the morning
In the morning, beauty will rise

So take another breath for now
And let the tears come washing down
And if you can't believe, I will believe for you

Cause I have seen the signs of spring
Just watch and see

Out of these ashes beauty will rise
And we will dance among the ruins
We will see it with our own eyes
Out of these ashes beauty will rise
For we know joy is coming in the morning
In the morning

I can hear it in the distance
And it's not too far away
It's the music and the laughter
Of a wedding and a feast
I can almost feel the hand of God
Reaching for my face to wipe the tears away
You say it's time to make everything new
Make it all new

This is our hope
This is a promise
This is our hope
This is a promise

It will take our breath away
To see the beauty that's been made
Out of the ashes, out of the ashes

It will take our breath away
To see the beauty that He's made
Out of the ashes, out of the ashes

Out of these ashes
Beauty will rise
And we will dance among the ruins
We will see it with our own eyes
Out of this darkness
New light will shine
And we'll know the joy that's coming in the morning
In the morning
Beauty will rise

Oh, beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, beauty will rise

Blogger Silence

2010-02-14T07:43:00.000-06:00

I didn't write this week not only because I am pretty sure I'd never read a blog about grieving, but because the process is stupid. If someone told you the only way to attain a goal was to undergo an intense process filled fatigue, anger, bitterness, incessant tears, doubts and loneliness....would you take on the process?

Jen and I spent a instant messenger conversation debating over who was more responsible for Zoe's death. Each of us was/is sure we are more responsible. It's a debate that will not be resolved, and frankly, since medicine will happily slap a "T18" label on her death, the very label we battled from minute one of Zoe's life....no one else will offer an opinion.

We fill our days with busywork, but there's still time to be haunted, time to long. Time to wish for less and more of the day. Time to wish I could talk to my Dad, the wise counselor who always brought me back to the cross.

Walking around the store for Valentine's day trying to figure out what to get Jen. And knowing that Jen wants nothing but Zoe. So, it's likely this stupid plant with tiny heart-shaped leaves will not suffice. No matter, my card was declined. Leave the store filled with tears and guilt and anger.

One man, trying to be kind on the way out of church, told me he, too had lost his daughter. He said after four years of anger, he was able to find peace.

Four years? This is what we get?

When you're going through this, there's a common theme...you have a good moment, a good day or night, and then you feel sickened by the thought that you actually might be "over" it. And Zoe was not something you want to be "over." So you go back to jail, do not pass go, do not collect anything. You start to associate the only way you can truly miss her ...them...is to hurt.

Not to mention that the entire grieving thing seems 100% counter to Christianity, the cross, and Heaven. Zoe being able to live and not fight for life every day in Heaven is our solace. Dad free from all that encumbered him is peace to me. This grieving seems like chains of every evil - so I catch myself living in them and begin a new spiral - feeling guilty for feeling guilty. Feeling guilty for feeling angry for feeling alone.

See? You didn't want to read this, and writing it seemed like whining. But you want in this terrible head? You got it.

Sunday Morning

2010-02-07T08:45:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning and that meant dad would be be gone already or in a room finishing up his sermon. It was the only day of the week he didn't make breakfast, and we'd hear the urgency in his footsteps, the joy-filled way he'd greet everyone as they doddered out of bed.

I was born on a Sunday, and dad wasn't there. He was in the pulpit, preaching. He had a job to do. One of the ushers told him as the offering plates were handed over.

I learned that from my dad. On the Saturday before Zoe's service, I told everyone there that this was business. Cry later. This was business and we were going to touch hearts with something worthy of my daughter. Work to do.

Zoe always had good days on Sundays. Putting clothes on meant a shirt, or a pillow...something would be close to her face, which was hilarious. Zoe's biggest grins involved face smushing.

Even though church was time from her favorite place - Mom and Dad's (her) bed under the ceiling fan, it wasn't long. And there was singing at church. Zoe always loved music.

I wish their jobs weren't done. Mine isn't. Sunday is God's day and His two servants loved it.My old pastor said "We are Easter people." Every Sunday is a celebration because Jesus is alive. Let the redeemed celebrate.

There's A Reason

by mercyme

Now's the time
Let the redeemed celebrate
If you know what I know
You can't wipe the smile off your face
Oh people, stand up and praise

There's a reason to dance
There's a reason to sing
Of the sacred romance
With our Savior and King
We lift up our hands
We fall on our knees
To the Son of Man
The reason we are free

There's a reason

All glory to 
The King of Kings, Lord of Lords
Oh the value of Your worth 
No worldly treasures can afford

And we praise You forevermore

There's a reason to stand
There's a reason to shout, to shout Your name on high
So we take up our cross, there's a reason to die
Because Jesus is alive

There's a reason
You are the reason
The reason we are free

Song and Dance

2010-02-05T10:14:00.000-06:00

Amid my anger this morning, Jen's weak stomach, the Pediasure coupon that came up with my receipt at the store, the huge snowflakes silently falling and melting on my face that mixed with my tears, this song is the only thing louder. I am trying to hear the holy rhythm. He's still giving.

Song and Dance
by andrew peterson

David's on his throne at sundown
His paper and his pen are in his hand
He's waiting on a song at sundown
As he gazes out across his holy land

And he thinks of old Goliath and he smiles
He can barely keep from laughing
He says, "great is the Lord and greatly to be praised"
He can hear the rivers clapping
Well, they're still clapping
To the same old song and dance

Well the cadence of the sea is just as steady
And the chorus of the hills is just as strong
And the faithfulness of God is just as mighty as it was
When the shepherd slew the giant with a stone

You can close your eyes and listen to the sea
You can feel the holy rhythm
Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised
For the mercy he has given
Well, he's still giving
It's the same old song and dance

I can hear creation singing his praise
That his love is everlasting
It's the same as it was a million years ago
I can still hear David laughing
And the rivers are still clapping
It's the same old song and dance

A Little Bat Ink

2010-02-05T09:43:00.001-06:00

The Green Bay Press Gazette did a little feature on dad. Very nice.

Next Gen

2010-02-05T09:21:00.000-06:00

(left to right) Piera Christiansen, Minte Christiansen, Izzi, Alexis Schaefer, Allana Randall, Teia

Zoe's sisters and cousins - the next generation of Batiansila girls. All met, hugged and laughed with both Zoe and Bat.

She's Still Touching Lives

2010-02-05T07:09:00.000-06:00

Zoe made the front page of the local paper, featuring the picture you see to the right. A woman caught me after Kellen's game and told me she had read the article and was so moved.

Meanwhile, Astros.com featured this article.

A Week Later

2010-02-03T22:52:00.000-06:00

The cycle is complete. Dad's death interrupted the peace from Zoe's memorial. Remembering Zoe's loss just a week ago interrupts the peace from Dad's magnificent funeral.

Hopefully some days with fewer losses and funerals.

Remember Bat

2010-02-02T18:38:00.001-06:00

The previous link only worked some of the time.....if you miss Bat as much as me, click play. And bang! He's right there.

Fly To Jesus

2010-02-01T07:29:00.000-06:00

The service sending Zoe home was everything I'd hoped. So many people showing love and care and wonderful music.

During "Shout To The Lord," Jen stood up and asked those around her to, and then everyone did. She told me later she did it because she was so proud of Zoe. So proud of her.

It was a joyful, tearful triumph in the resurrection. We have this hope because we believe everything God's promised us is true.

After the service, I had to kinda walk it off like I had just run a marathon. I was walking around and spending time with each table, and my family learned that my father - too frail to make the memorial - had taken a bad turn. The family headed up. At 8:45 CST, we learned that my Dad had gone home.

There's not much in my life that wasn't influenced by my Dad. I'd be a better person if I could be more like him. He taught me how to tie a tie, to stir batter, to open a book, to pick out fruit, to sign my name.

In each one of these lessons, it wasn't simply a "how-to": it was a thorough step-by-step and reasoning. For my signature, Dad called me into his office and said he'd been looking at my signature on my confirmation papers. It was sloppy. And he was thinking of some options that might be neater and more unique. He showed me some different ways he had thought of signing my name. He was right. I've signed my way that way ever since.

To pick out fruit: You look under fruit, inspecting each one. Often the ones on the top are concealing a flaw. Find the biggest, most beautiful one. "That's for mom," he'd say. Putting her first was the point.

An elite athlete, a world-class artist (his art as a TEEN won national competition), a thoughtful teacher. All were amazing facets of his character. But all paled to his love and devotion to serving the Lord. It was the way he befriended, then witnessed to the breadstore lady. The manager at Cub Foods. The mechanic who the congregation had left behind because of his sin, that's the one Dad went to. It was the way he patiently guided sheep.

It was the way he drew his cartoon-simple images for confirmation. The means of Grace were a funnel. Jesus, in one parable, was an island. God was always depicted by a huge heart.

And now he's home, returned the the heart, the source of all love, reunited with his facilities and all beyond that Heaven crowns, and a laughing, hyper, always-praising girl named Zoe who can't stop talking for all the time the world held her silent.

I'm jealous. I can't wait to see you both.

One Bright Morning

2010-01-31T08:58:00.000-06:00

Today let's sing. Let's lift the roof of this place and let my beautiful Zoe Bean fly away.

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away (oh glory)
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Some bright morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away
To a land on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone, I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls, I’ll fly, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Oh how glad and happy when we meet, I'll fly away
No more cold, iron shackles on my feet, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away
To a land where joy will never end, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away (oh glory)
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away (oh glory)
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

I'll fly away.... I'll fly away..... I'll fly away

The Zoe Effect

2010-01-30T22:25:00.000-06:00

From Iceland to Saudi Arabia to Chile and 37 other countries, people are visiting this blog. I'm honored.

Lift up your head. That's what your prayers, properly funneled through the Maker of the Universe and into my often-dull head, have said. So, I'm stumbling along and trying.

Do not be fooled - your prayers do more than bless me. They bless you, too, as you become part of this story. They lift our heads. They give US strength.

Tomorrow I hope to see as many of you as I can, and to feel the light and heat and warmth of your presence as we honor my beautiful Zoe.

Thank you everyone. See you tomorrow.

one more time

2010-01-29T19:42:00.001-06:00

I know that I personally do not want to read a blog about mourning. I never could identify with it, there's no way I could. And so I never tried, and I didn't.

But we're mourning.

Kirin, Caleb, and Allana are here, and boys playing Wii. Jen asked, "How can the house be so busy and noisy and be so quiet?"

Gosh, just one more time to feel her cheek against mine. To hold her in the air and watch her smile as I threw (yes, I threw her and mommy worried) her in the air and caught her. Big smile. Flying. Awesome. One more time and then you can have her. Maybe i can tickle her and listen to her gurgle and coo.

Where's my little girl? I will meet you again...in 50 years? sigh.

I was going through music for the service tonight with Josh - I can't call it a funeral - and I just lost it. At a weird time, not where you think. Lost it. Josh hugged me and then Teia hugged me. "I just want this to be good enough for her," I whispered.

Father, let me find a place for Zoe where she is still my prize but where I can breathe. Let Jen find a place for her where she is still her pickles but where Jen can still lift her head.

after the last tear falls
by andrew peterson

After the last tear falls
After the last secret's told
After the last bullet tears through flesh and bone
After the last child starves
And the last girl walks the boulevard
After the last year that's just too hard

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

After the last disgrace
After the last lie to save some face
After the last brutal jab from a poison tongue
After the last dirty politician
After the last meal down at the mission
After the last lonely night in prison

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales

'Cause after the last plan fails
After the last siren wails
After the last young husband sails off to join the war
After the last 'this marriage is over'
After the last young girl's innocence is stolen
After the last years of silence that won't let a heart open

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales

'Cause after the last tear falls
There is love

Zoe's Memorial Service

2010-01-29T18:33:00.001-06:00

We're going to celebrate Zoe's life at a service on Sunday, January 31.
There will be visitation at 4:00, the service at 5:00, and a luncheon to follow.

St. Pauls Lutheran Church
701 Washington Street
Grafton, WI 53024
262-377-4659

Our home address is W64N447 westlawn ave, Cedarburg, WI 53012.

Zoe Goes Home

2010-01-28T07:45:00.000-06:00

I was sitting in a restaurant in Pascagoula, Mississippi and Jen called. Zoe had taken a turn for the worse, she said. Heart rate was till 200 and they couldn't calm her down. I went out into the night and talked and started to pray and cry.

We went back to the hotel and I sat there kind of dumbfounded. My dear friends at the shoot and their spouses came up with a plan - drive to Mobile, bus to Atlanta, plane to Milwaukee, car to Children's, to Zoe.

We drove to the Mobile bus station for the 1135 bus. I hugged my friends - generous and kind beyond measure - and waited the hour for the bus. I talked to my sister and Pastor Rafferty and Pastor Navurskis. Then I boarded the bus.

As the driver was just closing the door, Jen called and told me that Zoe had gone home. She said her little body couldn't handle this world anymore and she didn't suffer. I yelped and yelled. I asked to get off the bus. I fell to my knees on the lot outside and begged them for my luggage. I needed to go to Milwaukee now, not after five hours of driving. The driver told me it was 1130...this was the only way. Get back on the bus.

My little snoopy. No. No. No.

No. Jenny - who God gave in that moment so much rich wisdom and peace and a friend in Pastor Navurskis - kept telling me that Zoe wasn't hurting and she was home.

I called Pastor Rafferty, broke the news to him and then asked him to share the news with my oldest three kids. He called from outside the door. I talked to them on the phone.

One hour or so into the trip my phone went dead. The battery keeps dying. I was able to call most of my family and friends and talk to Jen a few times.

I wish I could tell you that I came to some deep spiritual or wise truth on the bus, in the silence, at the squalid Montgomery bus station at 330 am. That the fierce red lights in the predawn traffic at Atlanta that matched the glorious sunrise taught me a truth.

Nothing new. Nothing new that you haven't heard me say on this blog over and over. There is a God who loves us and He has a plan. And the plan is that we end up in His arms. We don't end up in a walker or hospital bed. We don't end up 12 pounds and 12 ounces. We end up in His arms.

And to begrudge Zoe that ending or God for calling her to His arms is selfish. Zoe's Home.

It turns out this blog was not about my dear sweet girl. It's been about an often frustrated, ever-confused, always-confident-and-mostly-wrong man. With deep flaws and great riches.

In the economy of friendship, I am the richest man you know. There is no one with friends touched by the Spirit (whether they know truly His voice or not) who are, have, and will minister to me. In the economy of family, I am wildly rich. A saint of a wife who has loved me when it didn't make sense to love me. Children, sisters, my brother. A stately father who is a man of God. A sweet, dear, talented mom who loves Jesus.

In the economy of grace, I am rich to have known my daughter, my Snoopy, my daddy's girl who would move her huge blue eyes to find my voice.

You did not leave without teaching us all a thing or two. You did not leave without changing our lives. And, even as you left this wretched place, you touched me. All of us. Goodbye my sweet baby girl. I will see you soon. At the end.

please pray

2010-01-27T20:48:00.001-06:00

for my little snoopy, zoe.

Pneumonia

2010-01-27T14:01:00.000-06:00

Zoe has been admitted to Children's because her pneumonia is worse. Please pray. This has to turn around, and doctors are hoping intravenous meds will turn the tide.

Color's Back

2010-01-26T03:03:00.000-06:00

Zoe went to the doctor today and she couldn't get her sat levels up. Usually the trying time is when she sleeps. But today, while awake she was in the 70's with oxygen. Jen brought her home and later last night - just a few hours ago - she actually woke up instead of a slit-eyed consciousness. Not her silly smiley self, but we did get the hand held high in the light.

Now she's snoring with 02 on....just pray hard, folks. If she's not better by Wednesday, they're going to find a place at Children's for her and try to find out why her sat levels are so miserable.

Dad

2010-01-25T23:00:00.000-06:00

My dad is doing worse and the only way I've found peace with it is to stop asking God why it has to go this way. Because God has an answer: this part of our life - the end - is much less important than we think it is.

I went to the emergency room yesterday with Zoe. She's got pneumonia and an ear infection, and was feverish and dehydrated. And I cried the whole way down to the hospital, a pathetic cry because I just didn't want to go. I don't want to go to Children's Hospital any more and I don't want my little girl to die.

Zoe is so much more a daddy's girl than ever before. Right now she's whining because I'm ignoring her. And I don't want her to die when she's not even 2. Or 2. Or 3. She cried when I leave and she knows my voice. And I want a vote in how or when she dies. And I want it to be better than an infection at 22 months.

And I want my dad to get the Enoch treatment, not this.

But God wants me and you to know that whether you were in a Space Shuttle accident, climbing on to Normandy, shooting a 3 and telling people you were feeling great, or I guess just waking every day to fight until there is no more fight - whether you're 2 or 77, God has his eyes on it all -that moment and eternity. That pain and the unspeakable love. And one is a blink, and the other is forever. We are too easily pleased...we are too easily disappointed.

If we consider the unblushing promises of

reward and the staggering nature of the

rewards promised in the Gospels, it seem

that our Lord finds our desires not too

strong, but too more weak. We are

half-hearted creatures, fooling about with

drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy

is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants

to go on making mud pies in a slum because he

cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a

holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

confession

2010-01-11T00:38:00.000-06:00

Most nights when I'm up with Zoe late I hold her tight and I beg God to heal her. I know it's ridiculous to think that every cell could be reconfigured and healed. But He can. And He won't.

Aging Gracefully

2010-01-08T21:46:00.000-06:00

[scrippet]
INT. FORD MINIVAN - 8:30 PM
ETHAN has just finished practice and GREG is driving home. It's one of those winter nights when it feels like 2 in the morning to every human but it's only 8:30.

ETHAN
(from the recesses of the van)
Dad, they're working all day and all night on the apartments by school.

GREG
Yeah. I think they're almost done building them. They're going to be for older people.

ETHAN
Yeah. Aaron can go but I can't. He's seven. I'm six.

GREG
No I think they're for old grammas and grandpas.

ETHAN
...oh. Like you. How old are you?

GREG
41.

ETHAN
That's almost very old. That's very old.

GREG
(nods as he comes to a stoplight. Tired.)

ETHAN
Because after 41, it's 42. Then it's 43.

The van pulls away from the stoplight. GREG contemplates stopping for beer.

ETHAN
...Then it's 44. Then 45, 46, 47. Then 48. 49. 50....then 60.

GREG realizes he has no money for beer.

ETHAN
...Then 70. Then 80. Then 90. Then you turn 100 and you blow up and go to heaven.

GREG smiles and checks back into the rearview mirror.

ETHAN
...Dad?

GREG
What, E?

ETHAN
I'm going to miss you when you're in Heaven.

FADE OUT

[/scrippet]

A God Is Great Zoe Home Makeover

2010-01-08T13:18:00.000-06:00

My mother is world-famous for making connections. She's savant-level at connecting people to people and their moms. And their churches. And their pastors. And the seminaries the pastor went to. And perhaps a professor at that seminary.

Mom: Oh, so you go to St. Paul Lutheran? That was Pastor Keefe's old church.
Target: Yes. Pastor Keefe. He baptized my Linda.
Mom: Keefe baptized my Erin's second grade teacher. Good man. Went to St. Louis Seminary, I think. The Holy City.

That's how it works.

So Mom will appreciate this:
Warning - deep history to ensue:

I was going to drive to Chicago for a shoot and decided that, despite how broke we were, I'd download an album and listen to it. I went to Amazon.com and downloaded a single mp3 of a song I had heard part of on the radio. Loved the guy's voice.

I downloaded the wrong song so I went to download the right song while listening to the wrong song. I loved them both. Decided to download the whole album.

A week or so later, I'm addicted and listening to it as I go to get my pregnant wife's sonogram. They told us my daugher had a heart defect, which would require surgery. I drove back to work listening to a song from the album: Shine Your Light, singing over and over again, Oh My God, Shine Your Light on her, that she might live. I was crying.

I wrote the artist, Robbie Seay, on his blog. I told him thank you for the song, that it was all I had.

Five months later, Zoe was born and God let her live. Her condition, this world's tilting to sin and destruction sought to claim her cells but God wanted her alive. We were told she'd die. Soon.

I wrote Robbie again. I told him thank you for his music because now it truly was sustaining me. Robbie wrote back. He gave me love and support and prayers.

My friends at work became the most profound hands of God I've ever seen. They brought food, they offered help, money, love. They were amazing.

My friend at work, Brooke, had a friend she grew up with, Heather. Heather is married to a pitcher for the Houston Astros. Heather came to work and visited with me and became determined to do something for Zoe.

My friends at work asked Robbie Seay to come give a benefit concert for Zoe. He said he would. And, on her 108th birthday, he performed in Brookfield. We talked and met and prayed.

As a thankyou, Brooke and Heather set up a special treat for Robbie - field-level seats for his favorite team, the Houston Astros. And...a thank you on the scoreboard. And...a meet and greet with the Astros. And...a feature on Fox Sports Net about Zoe and Robbie and Heather's husband, Chris.

Robbie went to the game, and took his brother and a family - the Beach family. The Beaches are adopted and have special needs and are being lifted up by Robbie and Chris's church, Ecclesia. I was so excited that Robbie would get something special from all of us. It sounded like they had a good time. I wrote about it.

A blog reader in Houston read my entry and decided to help the Beach family. She and members of her church gave gifts and support. "Barb read about a family that had reached out to Robbie Seay that needed help. It was a huge family that took in foster children and orphans and lost everything in the hurricane. Barb's efforts allowed her to donate 4 boxes of clothes and $200 in Wal Mart gift cards."

(The "Barb" mentioned above is St. Mipps' sister, Barb. That's for you Mom connection types.)

Barb has continued to support the Beaches. In fact, she nominated them for ABC's "Extreme Home Makeover." Here's Barb's explanation: "Robbie Seay's wife Liz was helping them out and I read about them on Zoe's blog . . . then we decided to help them out . . . so I contacted Liz and it was a done deal. They have 15 kids that they've adopted and foster, all with special needs. Their house was damaged and they were living in side-by-side trailers. They are all at Disney World this week as that crew comes in to makeover their home!

After the fact, I believe he even blogged about how we'd made that connection because of Zoe."

So Robbie Seay is on Extreme Home Makeover. It's filming now, in Houston, and will be on in March.

Jen says, "I've decided. They will no longer be referred to as "special needs" children, but as "special agents." Their mission? To give us unconditional love, to show us God's grace in all things, and to help make us better people. I think we are the ones with greater needs in this world. God bless all of you special agents out there, and thank you for all that you do for us!"

Catching Up Video I

2010-01-05T23:47:00.000-06:00

Robbie Seay says hi to Zoe...15 months after his concert for her.

Citizen Christa

2010-01-05T12:41:00.001-06:00

On January 21, Christa Batiansila will be sworn in and become a citizen of the United States. For us, this is a remarkable moment - and a surprising one. No one understands the tenets of freedom, hard work, rugged individualism, and love for this nation better than Christa.

We're preparing for an special time.

TRIBE

2010-01-04T23:51:00.000-06:00

Something I wrote for Ironman's cause...reprinted from his blog.

TRI-BE
Across the globe, there’s a forgotten and lost tribe of people. They’re the children and families of children who have Trisomy 13 and 18. Their children have been given a death sentence. This tribe is hurt and mostly alone, waking up to face death and the fear of death.
For those in this tribe, they learn not to live in the past or the future, but in the now. They learn how to be. They must be.

Their motto can be summed up in 3 “B” words: (tri be). Battle. Breathe. Believe.

Battle – against pain, fear, death, against the very cells in a body. Against anger. Against ignorance.

Breathe – trisomy babies are supposed to forget how to breathe and die. As a parent, you never take a breath for granted. And as a parent, you learn to just breathe. You keep thinking you can do something – you can’t. In fact, you can do nothing. So, as Robbie Seay the singer says: breathe out and breathe again/know that life is hard, but it’s worth breathing.

Believe – is all we can do and the best we can do. Believe that life is precious. Believe that today is a gift. Believe that there is eternal life for the redeemed. Believe that I have a Savior friend who will see me through this. Believe that there is strength in Him.

Our TRI-BE theme was created by a dad living with a trisomy 18 daughter, Zoe.

Zoe's Happy Birthday

2009-12-22T21:08:00.000-06:00

Zoe and Cousin Anna hanging out.

21 things we've learned about Zoe through 21 months:

1. No idea that people sleep at night and are awake during the day.
2. Steadily improving with therapy.
3. Is at a 5-6 month old level in development.
4. She can reach for and pick up a toy.
5. Grasp things longer.
6. Working hard on rolling over.
7. Practicing sitting up.
8. She'll push a button to activate a toy when she figures it out.
9. Intentionally waving hi and bye-bye.
10. Working hard to form her mouth into speaking.
11. Loves Pediasure.
12. Daddy's girl (but loves her momma).
13. Loves loves music. It makes her smile.
14. Likes to use her foot as a feeler.
15. She'll run her feeler foot on people and things to feel texture.
16. She especially likes running her feeler foot on keyboards of laptops.
17. Is still taking Captopril twice daily.
18. Isn't a fan of fruit baby food. Prefers baby food with meat in it.
19. Breaks into a huge this-is-hysterical smile when her face is smushed against something.
20. Still loves looking at her hands.
21. Since Daddy took an hour nap and drank coffee to stay up with her tonight...has fallen asleep.

The Now And The Not Yet

2009-12-20T10:43:00.000-06:00

It struck me driving up to Kohl's Department Store yesterday. It was Saturday at 2 pm and there was a really light snow falling. I pulled up behind the store - back by the dumpsters - and saw...

...cars. And people parking their cars and hustling in. I guess it was the contrarian in me that drove around to the front to see if there was any spaces, and there weren't. At all. Between the snow that has fallen and this, the last Saturday before Christmas, the lot was full.

And inside the store was full. I found some 80% off gifts, but when I saw the line for checking out, I just put my stuff down and left.

And that's in West Bend, which, by last count, is suffering from an almost-historic high unemployment rate of 12 percent.

It was the end of a week where we've been putting together a video for the Dohmen Foundation. Watching the footage from Sudan and Haiti - of the abject poverty, of the huge eyes of children who have seen more than any of us would want them to see - absolutely broke my heart. Goodhearted people like the BloodWater Mission, Dohmen Foundation, IMA World Health, MAP International, Vitamin Angels, are trying their hardest to fight a tide of poverty and sickness and pain.

And as I pulled into the parking lot, I was in tears. Not about the five year old Haitian girl infested with intestinal worms, and not because I had to wait in line with others suffering under this economy. But because perhaps the most vibrant life force I've known, the best athlete I've ever seen, the most demanding and exceptional artist, easily the finest worker in the God's field could no longer lift his cup to his mouth. My Dad was being placed under hospice care.

If anyone can describe to me a circumstance as terrible as watching someone who prided himself on the food he consumed, who worked out with fervor reserved for the elite, to be decimated by this world....keep it to yourself. I've had enough of this place.

This morning has me running low on hope, low on peace. Low on faithfulness.

The problem is I'm so mired in this world as if it's anything but a torn and broken place. And I've spent no time thinking about Heaven. And yet, that's where I'm supposed to be focused. And Dad spent His whole life trying to get me and everyone else to focus our gaze there.

The missing solace for me is Heaven. It's a lesson I should have learned looking at that footage this week. Kids living in squalor, undernourished. Living in huts with no clean water...and yet, singing, beautifully, loudly, dancing for their Savior. A gathering of village people holding hands in a circle praying "...in Jesus' name." What possible reason did these children and adults have to believe? To sing? To have joy or hope? They were not receiving joy from their surroundings or current condition.

"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." - Colossians 3:1-2

Heaven. When I hug him there, I won't be afraid I'll break him. Where he'll be back to singing loudly, whistling. Heaven, where the artist meets the Artist. Heaven to tell stories of grace, and they'll laugh, and he'll laugh telling them. Heaven, where he'll see the thousands whose lives were changed by God's work through him. Heaven, where he'll experience completion beyond any moment he's had here.

I know what I want. But what I want, I have, and will have again. Just not today.

Winter Snow.

2009-12-09T16:31:00.000-06:00

Wow this song is incredible. Merry Christmas.

Winter Snow

Could've come like a mighty storm
With all the strength of a hurricane
You could've come like a forest fire
With the power of heaven in Your flame

But You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

You could've swept in like a tidal wave
Or an ocean to ravish our hearts
You could have come through like a roaring flood
To wipe away the things we've scarred

But You came like a winter snow
(Yes, You did)
You were quiet
You were soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Oh, no, Your voice wasn't in a bush burning
No, Your voice wasn't in a rushing wind
It was still
It was small
It was hidden

You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Falling
(Oh, yeah)
To the earth below
You came falling
From the sky in the night
To the earth below

The Weary World Rejoices, Or Why We Are Dangerous

2009-12-09T09:52:00.000-06:00

I've spent my share of time these past few blog entries telling you my heart about the trials and travails of this world. It's good, cathartic, it beats a shrink, and to hear that it has struck a chord with you all is nice.

But there's one other thing you have to know: I hope.

Do you?

I hope. This world beats me down, and then maybe I cry or I whine on this blog, and then you get up and you hope. You hope.

There are times that our hope is as preposterous as our sin and failure. To me, it's the thing the devil can do nothing about, except to try and exhaust you and convince you it's gone. But it's not. There is no Godforsaken place.

Our ability to hope is what makes us dangerous to the world and to the Devil. "Let Zoe die gracefully," we were told over a year ago by her pediatrician. If we didn't we were selfish. Letting her die is safe; fighting for her life is dangerous.

I think instead, I will hope Zoe can say "Daddy." There are medical professionals who, based on the data, do not share that hope.

I hope my children are loving and caring husbands, wives, and parents. There are many who, based on their dire predictions of their lives, do not share that hope.

When I act in strength, with the confidence of hope, my soul feels its worth.

Long lay the world In sin and error pining,
'Til He appear'd And the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope The weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks A new and glorious morn.

Below is what Louie Giglio shared at the Chris Tomlin "Glory In The Highest" concert on Sunday in Milwaukee. I know it's long. But if you want God to touch you, if you want God to clean the crap out of your heart this season, find some time and listen.

Love, GB

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

This Moment

2009-12-07T00:29:00.000-06:00

It's the Holidays and that means a lot of emotion for me. I used to sing, and when our group sang best was around now. Our Thanksgiving Eve service was...was just one of those moments when you can't feel your fingertips. There was this one Christmas service once that we did that was the best thing I've ever been a part of. We did so much. So much good for others and each other.

I don't sing anymore, and so this season comes with a deep longing. And now even more longing.

A long time ago, in 2001, I found out my father had cancer over Thanksgiving. And for the postceding months, I believed him to be going or gone. I walked alone at night around the streets of my little town begging God for his life.

And..for the past few years I've been telling my troupe of kids that we should look around the table and be grateful for who's here, because when the kids grow up, who knows where they'll be. Next year, God willing, two will be in college and my heart will miss them. Longing.

I look in the mirror at a tired 41 year old man. If I live as long as my grandfathers, I am more than halfway done. I long for sleep, for health, for a few more moments with my kids - but the kids who giggled in the tub. For my dad - but the dad who plotted out his practical jokes very seriously. For my singing days - but the days when the biggest fight was how long to hold a note.

All this longing. Today we drove by the big Nativity scene outside a church here in Cedarburg and Selah wondered why there was no baby out. I told her it was likely the church wanted people to ask that, to wonder where the baby was, when it would come.

Me too. Come quickly, Lord. Fill my longing with a song again. My father with peace. My children with enough to be strong in you. Fill this season because I need you.

One eighteen

2009-12-03T08:33:00.000-06:00

My dad could throw a knuckleball. Overhand, underhand. If you ever seen someone throw a knuckleball, ever seen one up close, floating by you when you've got a bat in your hand, it's pretty mesmerizing.

When he threw it, his eyes were huge - Mike Singletary-like, for those of you who know the reference. Being a perfectionist, Dad worked hard to conceal the pitch, to keep his motion consistent. But a knuckler looks like a knuckler coming off the pitcher's hand. And knowing the pitch is a knuckler won't help you hit it, anyway.

It made me realize - I think most of us realize - that Dad was letting us hit pitches. That if he wanted to, he could have dug out the huge sweeping curve too and kept us at bay for as long as he wanted.

He's not going to throw a knuckler anymore. It sucks. Kellen will never see it, and I guess it's to me to explain in reverence so he understands what an amazing, dominating athlete Bat was. Ridculously fast. Incredible hands. Mercury quick.

I sat across the table from Dad on Tuesday and told him that we all have to quit wishing. Wishing for the past, for the days of the knuckler, for a batch of waffles prepared while dad was whistling to the stero.

And we have to quit wishing for the future. Today is today and it's all we have. And today is the only place where God is waiting for us. For Bat, all 118 pounds of him.

What I'm Talking About

2009-12-01T23:38:00.000-06:00

The detractors of Christian music might not have failed on such a grand scale as me. But for me it's the confluence of gifted musicianship, profound lyrics, my sin and God's glory.

You Are On Our Side
by Bethany Dillon

The orphan clings to Your hand
Singing the song of how he was found
The widow rejoices
For her oppressors are silenced now

You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore
When You could just be silent and leave us here to die
Still, You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side

The runaway falls at Your feet
You are what he has searched for
The rich man is broken
When he stands beneath a sky full of stars

You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore
When You could just be silent and leave us here to die
Still, You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side

You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore
When You could just be silent and leave us here to die
Still, You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side

Still, You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side

Because Journalism Is Dead But Jesus Isn't: The "Side-hug" Smear Part II

2009-12-01T02:37:00.000-06:00

In Part I, I talked about a video I found through a friend on Facebook.

The video bugged me. I'm kind of a Christian music geek and I can think of two songs that have the word "Christian" in them. Neither are contemporary: The carol "Good Christian Men Rejoice", and "They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love."

Besides, if the side-hug was a legitimate concern of a group of hard-core Christians, they'd be banging on their pipe organ, not trying to emulate rap.

So I contacted the church that submitted the video. Here's my interview:

1. Let’s legitimize our interview by having you introduce yourself and role at TFH. How did you come to work there?

My name is Tim Bittle. I am not "employed" by TFH but I am an associate youth pastor. I am a bi-vocational pastor (meaning that I work a secular job for income and pastor at the church for free). My wife and I have been working with the youth for about 3 years now.

2. Did you all ever have a clue that this video would get the views its getting?

Not at all! As of last night, we we're over 500k including all sources (youtube, vimeo, and other video websites). We never intended the video to be anything other than a nostalgic memory for those that were in attendance at the 2009 EG conference.

3. Did Huffington Post contact you before it put it on its blog?

Never once! Which makes the claims of the videos legitimacy all that more hilarious!

4. Everyone who watches this video is struck by the high level of organization, sound design and choreography involved in this song. For detractors, it’s proof that it’s a professional group trying to legitimately promote a Christian ideal to Christian youth. For people like me, it’s proof that these are a group that if they’re going to spoof something, they’re going all the way. Which is it?

This video / performance was never intended to be taken seriously. The "rap" was written by myself, an actor and a full time janitor at the church (we are all good friends). We are about as far off from being "rappers" or even aspiring "rappers" as one can be.

When we put on these events, we get tired of standing in front of 1000 people and rattling off a bunch of rules (don't bring food or drink into the sanctuary, turn your cell phones to silent so you don't disrupt the service, etc...). This rap was created to spice things up a bit. At the opening scene, you notice that the screens are all fuzzy. That's because the rules video had just cut out and we came on stage to make the rules a bit more fun.

When we do something like this at our church, we always do it with a ton of energy and what we believe to be excellence! You can see evidence of this in the other videos posted to the TFH account on youtube.

5. There are clues this is a spoof. It’s posted on a Youtube channel that has only rap spoofs. It is tagged under “comedy.” You can hear peals of laughter throughout the video, starting at :40 seconds. Why do you think people didn’t get the clues?

Beat's me. The best answer I can give is that they didn't want to. Much of the response, as you can see, has been negative. It is generally aimed at demeaning Christians and not necessarily us a individuals in the video.

I think much of the controversy has been stirred by peoples desire to share their opinions about how much they despise organized religion and those that would be "shallow minded" enough to believe it. At the end of the day, we are not offended at all but it was a bit of an eye-opener about outsiders views of the church.

6. Are you all going to do anything to address that it is a spoof?

We have purposely not responded online or posted a response video. Partially because we think it's funny that something this hilarious turned into such a big deal but also partially because we have been surprised to see how quickly information gets twisted. Many of the mainstream media websites posted that "we have verified that this is a legitimate rap group".

The fact that none of us had been contacted to verify this information is alarming! How many people are just buying into whatever garbage they are told online, on the news or by what they deem to be reliable sources. It just supports the thought that journalism today is not what it should be. This is one of many interviews we have done with those who want the truth behind the video. I think after a short period of time, the spoof will just sort of address itself.

7. My father’s a pastor and I’ve been a Christian all my life. I honestly have never heard of the “side hug” before the rap. Is it a part of your church’s beliefs? Is it part of any of the “rapper’s” beliefs?

Not at all! We are all totally fine with hugging. This was just some self-depreciating humor working itself in song :).

8. I am amazed that the stories of Christians having an impact on this world are rarely ever told, but slams on Christians like this spread like wildfire. Something tells me you wish a different video, story or website would have gotten as much notice. Is there a story, video or website you would like to tell me about that tells more of who you all are and what you do?

I would love to recommend that anyone interested download the TFH podcast / videocast. We have a great church with an amazing senior pastor. It's a relevant church with amazing worship and practical teaching.

I guess my advice would be "don't knock it till you've tried it". All of us in the video were living pretty colorful lives before we became christians and began attending this church.

I can honestly say that without it, we may have all found ourselves in much less desirable place in life. Any info you would want about our church, our campuses, our internship, our beliefs, etc, can all be found at TFH.org. Thanks!

Because Journalism Is Dead But Jesus Isn't: The "Side-hug" Smear

2009-11-30T11:58:00.000-06:00

It started for me when a friend I work with posted this on Facebook:

The link was to a blog post a blog called "The Huffington Post", believed by many to be the most influential, if not the most influential, blog on the internet.

The post, reprinted here in its entirety, was written with a sneering tone that bugged me. Oh, did I tell you that The Huffington Post is a haven for bad reporting and liberals?

The post:
"Christian youth groups finally have an alternative to normal, aka "front," hugs. As we all know, face to face embraces run the horrific risk of a clothed crotch graze. The Christian Side-Hug (or the CSH, as the kids call it) rids us of sin, as the only below the belt contact will be some good old-fashioned hip on hip action.

To help the side-hug fad sweep the nation, let us present this hardcore rap song. Yup, side-hugging has hit the streets. The group has as many emcees as the Wu-Tang Clan and as much power as a barbershop quartet.

Look out for the ominous sirens blasting on the track. Clearly, these are gangsters on the run from the law - probably from side-hugging up a storm! One emcee (wearing his bandanna 2pac-style no less) admits to taking part in the forbidden front-hug. But don't worry, God. He's married.

At the end, they all simulate getting shot and dying. We can only hope there are side-hugs in heaven. "

Honestly, I couldn't make out all of the lyrics, so I googled the name of the video, and got this:

Entry after entry, page after page, of bloggers commenting on the video. And literally all of the entries for the first several pages were people ripping Christians and Christian music.

From "The Sexist":

The Sexist: Sex and Gender in the District
Beyond DC
The Christian Side-Hug: “Front Hugs Be Too Sinful”

Posted by Amanda Hess on Nov. 23, 2009, at 9:56 am

"Attention, Christian kids: If you like not having sex, not speaking the Lord’s name in vain, and not being gay, then you’ll love the newest trend in policing typical adolescent behaviors in the name of God. It’s called the The Christian Side-Hug, and it’s here to help the devout avoid the temptation of full frontal hugging. Don’t worry—it’s cool, because they made a “rap” song about it.

According to Stuff Christians Like, there’s no “exact scripture reference” banning normal hugging. But the Side-Hug does significantly lower the “risk of two crotches touching,” which has got to be in the Bible somewhere. Here’s how you do it:

Instead of face to face, you go side to side, putting your arm around the person and your hip against their’s. Still having a hard time mastering it? Pretend you’re taking a photo and you’re both looking at the camera together. The side hug, or A frame as it is also called, is safe for the whole family, friendly and above all holy.

The Christian Side-Hug strikes me as almost skeezily chaste—I’d much rather have a brief normal embrace with a stranger than a hip-tap from a person who I know sexualizes even the most mundane forms of human contact. But the Side-Hug itself is slightly less offensive than the medium being used to promote it: An appropriated version of “rap music” performed by a bunch of white youth pastors who think that mixing in some gang-ish hand signals, tying on a bandana, and securing some fake bling will bring the youth to God.

The Christian Side-Hug rap comes courtesy of the Encounter Generation Conference, an annual Christian youth gathering which hopes to “bring the power, authenticity, and relevance of Jesus Christ to their culture.” I’m afraid that this potent combination of absurd chastity and mock hip-hop will be more likely to bring the power of a school-yard beat-down to these kids’ faces."

Commenters on blogs like this had about as awful - to significantly worse - things to say. Most ripped Christians and Christianity and Jesus. Some called this "Christian rap."

It was early Thanksgiving Morning. But I was incensed, a little defensive. Christian music has saved my life. And, I think I can comment to some degree as a professional who works in a media industry: the music and the musicians are largely gifted people. The comments were so scathing...and the video itself was too...odd.

I put my headphones on and listened. It was then that I heard the audience laughing pretty much throughout the video.

I decided to commit a FLAGRANT ACT OF JOURNALISM.

Thanksgiving in Teia's Eyes

2009-11-28T21:33:00.000-06:00

Great, amazing pictures.

Thanksgiving 2009

GT

2009-11-28T06:53:00.000-06:00

A long, long time - some 30 years ago, I was friends with a guy named GT. George Theodore Ballance, a big kid with a round face. GT played on the offensive line for our flag football team, truly found himself in the play, and knew how to pray with great fervor.

I said goodbye to GT midway through our 8th grade year when I moved away. We reconnected on Facebook a few months ago when I found a "GT Ballance Jr" online. We exchanged pleasantries, and then he told me his dad actually was on Facebook using his wrestling name. Seemed like GT had continued to be an athlete and dynamic performer.

GT and talked and shared via messages about his son and life and beautiful wife. Just a few weeks after we started talking, his wife was killed in a car accident. Age 32. She loved the Lord, and her husband, and now I see him walking a life of faith and tears. Yesterday's trip to the mall with Jr. ended up with some fun and three breakdowns. Pretty good for him, he commented.

GT can mean something to you and me. Give Thanks. For the remarkable blessing we have that we EXPECT - the time spent with those we love. Please don't waste a moment today. Tell those you love you love them. GT.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-28T06:39:00.000-06:00

We traveled home this Thanksgiving for the first time in years.

A year ago, Jen and I were holed up in a room in Children's, praying for Zoe. This year, we were able to show her both her mom and Dad's families. At Jen's Thanksgiving, Terry, Josh and Jen acted out scenes from "A Christmas Carol" with great vigor. The food was marvelous and better still was this family, who through it all, has insisted on being a family.

We then drove up north to Bat and Christa's. I don't think it would surprise you to know that there were three floors of activity and conversation, waves of eating. I think the two most interesting dynamics are the huge number of grandchildren who play and talk and interact without thinking of the uniqueness of their relationship; and the fact that we're all old now. I'm not. But Erin is. Also, Heidi just revealed that she is only seven years younger than David Hasselhoff, which set off a chain of comparisons.

Bat and I talked briefly at how impactful the five short years we spent in New Orleans were. All of us recall those years as foundational and a true part of our personality. And the people all recall us and Bat with love. He told me that he's just honored to have been used by God.

To be able to spend time with my dad and to fight Zoe all night. To have beautiful, remarkable young ladies who are kids like Iz and Teia. To see Kellen towering over the group, quietly iTouching. To make a mindless bunch of jokes with my brother. Christa offering 10 pies after dinner. Selah and Elise free to play with cousins. Goofing around and cutting down a 20.00 tree at the ol' tree farm. A very, very Happy Thanksgiving.

Heroes

2009-11-12T06:48:00.000-06:00

I nominate for heroes - true saints - anyone who has turned their life, their dreams, their gifts, their time, their marriage, their relationships, their hobbies, their desires over, abandoned them so that they can care for another person.

For the first time in months I accidentally spied this blog's traffic. It's down a ton, and that's because I'm not writing anything.

There are two reasons: if I write something, that means someone can use it against me. "I thought you said in your blog Ethan had fever," said one reader. "Why don't you just write about this in your blog," sneered another about a year ago.

The other reason is that I'm spent. I'm working and working and working. My work is fighting for survival in a tough economy, and I receive a lot of pressure to succeed, to bill lots of time, to acquire new business. So I do. I left work last night at 8:30 pm and left for work at 5:20 am. My reward for working that hard is that I get to keep my job.

But when I got home last night after stopping at the drugstore for medicine for my poor Aidan who's sick, my sainted wife was exhausted from her long day of holding serve with 8 children, one of whom is a special needs kid which by herself is a 24/7 job. A special needs kid who has an undetermined future, an undetermined group of future needs. Who may or may not talk. Or sign. Or walk. Or live.

The others - the older three, for example - have needs. Kellen has both of his toes worked on and needs a permanent solution applied there somewhere during the hoops season. Isabel just had three teeth removed and next week her final stages of braces. Eventually, she'll need another four teeth removed. Teia wants to get to Green Bay to meet with cousins. Those are typical, average, everyday needs.

And it means that when Jen is concerned about how she's in day 3 of a headache that includes her neck and back, she knows she can't afford a co-pay, not this year. Maybe January. For now, the co-pays go for Kellen's feet, Izzi's teeth, and to the urgent care for little Aidan, who had 103 fever last night.

1:30 Jen begged for three hours of sleep. I tried. At hour 2.5 I had drifted off, and Zoe threw up all over the bed, herself. Everybody up, everybody out. Clean off the bed, lay something on it. I'm looking anxiously at the clock knowing I have to be up at 5.

3:30 Jen's up and angry, emotional. She left the baby wipes in the car and has to go out in the 20 degree weather for them. She's slamming things and flops on the bed and I stir. I'll be up in 1.5 hours.

5:00 Zoe is still up. She's crying. Not sure why, maybe because it's the end of her nocturnal day. Maybe something else. She can't communicate like any other 19 month old so we wonder if she's hungry? Empty stomach from evacuating it hours before? Are we even awake and rational enough to decide?

7:00 I'm here at work and have been for an hour. I have three projects due today. Tonight will be no different, except Jen works, then comes home. This will never end. We hope it doesn't, because if it does, then something happened to Zoe.

We are nothing special. We're just burned out and tired and there's honestly no hope. Date night? Why? We're so tired and broke. We are poorer than we ever have been. I work so many hours I can't take on another job. I will not get a bonus from an employer that's struggling to stay afloat.

And I know I'm not the only parent or child like this. There are so many heroes out there. I wish I could hug you all. Jen and I both wish and hope we'll win a lottery so we can help you all. Your sacrifice, heroes, goes unnoticed, I think, even by yourself. I pray for you. Pray for your strength. A glimmer of hope somewhere, somehow. Maybe some sleep.

Song of Hope

2009-11-09T13:07:00.000-06:00

Our whole family had a wonderful time at the concert last night. Robbie was warm and wonderful to everyone. We received some huge, warm hugs from him and he mentioned what we noticed...that when he saw Zoe during the show, he was really moved.

Zoe slept through Caleb and Will Franklin Chapman, and Bethany Dillon. Robbie was last, loudest, and had the most lights, so she woke to a wonderworld of lights and sound. And didn't make a peep. Maybe she recognized the music.

I have a wonderful video of Bethany singing my absolutely favorite Bethany song. I do not have a similar video of Robbie because I was crying during that song.

2009-11-08T20:20:00.001-06:00

Bethany Dillon=amazing. Just brilliant. Video to follow.

2009-11-08T19:19:00.001-06:00

Will and Caleb Chapman=real deal. Impressive. Really mature sound.

2009-11-08T18:54:00.001-06:00

So excited. Robbie Seay concert! Gave him a hug this morning. Both of Steven Curtis Chapman's sons are here, too.

Noodles

2009-11-03T23:17:00.000-06:00

The water is raging boiling and I pour a couple of cups of rotini into the bowl. Seven minutes it will be perfect, maybe with a touch of oil. It wasn't until I stirred the pot with my fork in a way I've heard before - hundreds of times. I'm eating my dad's meal.

I'm instantly proud. And longing to call him and tell him that maybe I'm a little like him. I did learn something. First thing tomorrow.

Crystal Clear

2009-11-03T18:32:00.001-06:00

Zoe visited the doc today and a chest x-ray showed her lungs clearer than in August. Now we can all take a sigh of relief.

Jen and I are just worried about how quickly the flu can overtake s little one like Z. It makes for sleepless nights and tension...Jen was worried that Z was receiving the correct amount of meds. You wear it all inside and it wears you.

Ding! Sparkly x-rays tend to get you out of the funk.

FLU

2009-11-03T10:21:00.000-06:00

Two weeks ago, I stood in 40 degree temperatures with hundreds - by my estimation, over a thousand people - waiting for an H1N1 flu shot. It's that important to our house, to Zoe. Selah, too is considered high risk.

The flu came anyway. Ethan, now Aidan. Izzi was coughing and ill. Zoe had fever on Friday but the doctors told us her respiratory sounded clear. It didn't this morning.

It's a helpless feeling. We've dropped lots of money on the hand gel and lots of the air/surface disinfectant. We quarantined the sick kids to rooms far from the general living area. We're pretty sure that exposure is happening outside our homes - maybe even at the site of the flu shots.

Add that to the list of things - money and health lead the list - of things I'm helpless to correct or heal in my house. It's easy to lose hope.

Robbie's BAAACK!

2009-10-29T22:44:00.001-05:00

Robbie Seay is going to be playing in the area on November 8 free for nothin'. I'm so excited to see him again and he's performing with Bethany Dillon, who is really fun, too.

Please join us out there if you can.

Robbie'd love to see you, too.

"come out..bring friends..help us spread the word..and of course BRING ZOE!!!!! would be a thrill to see friends
blessings
robbie"

Another Round

2009-10-29T16:03:00.000-05:00

Bat's fighting hard. Weight gain has dropped off and he's struggling to keep food down since Sunday. Please, God, continue to give him days.

oh! happiness

2009-10-27T10:03:00.000-05:00

Jen graciously got me tickets to see David Crowder* Band on Saturday. We drove a piece in the noisy mufflermobile but the concert was spectacular.

David Crowder, you see, is equal bits jester and genius. He's odd and profound. His concert was zackly like him.

Best of all, I was able to meet DC after the show and confirm that yes, Robbie Seay's account of him meeting Richard Simmons in the airport was true. Robbie Seay says this was the meeting of the two strangest men in the world.

How To Wake Up On Your Birthday

2009-10-27T09:54:00.000-05:00

Hear Zoe crying. Realize she slept for almost 4 hours in a row. Go make her a bottle. Play.

Shadow of Death Part II

2009-10-20T13:34:00.000-05:00

A friend of Jen's family, TC, an aspiring actor and artist, was shot last week in California. Please keep him in your prayers.

The Shadow of Death

2009-10-20T13:32:00.000-05:00

Pray for Little Chloe and her dad. One of the blog readers - and St. Mipps' sister - worked with Chloe's mom.

The Eye of a Needle

2009-10-19T09:18:00.000-05:00

We had the rich man/eye of a needle sermon yesterday. I struggle with the sermon because the verse doesn't seem to say it's hard for a rich man to go to heaven - it seems to say it's impossible.

I had heard from my Religion teacher in 11th Grade religion that the "eye of the needle" was a gate in Jerusalem. This apparently is not true. That even seems tougher on me. I had found a nice place where entry to heaven, while hard, was somewhat possible for a rich man.

It sounds like the verse is actually using Hebraic hyperbole to explain the difficulty. And, come to think of it, Christ did say a tree was sticking out of the guy's eye in the previous verse. I was okay with that. Shows my inconsistency.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jmaa/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

ZOE (string)BEAN

2009-10-19T09:04:00.000-05:00

Zoe had a run in over the last few weeks with a possible infection. I'm sorry, folks...but the last few weeks have rivaled any in my life in terms of being busy but Zoe became very upset and in those instances, our medical position is to treat an infection - even before there is hard evidence of one.

In this case, Zoe received a series of shots in her legs over three days. By the middle of day 2, she was returning from being really uncomfortable. She still has the little scar/bruises on her legs now.

BUT...the big news is that she is up to 12 pounds, 14 ounces. A long, too-skinny, but GROWING stringbean.

BEHOLD

2009-10-13T12:44:00.000-05:00

In honor of Bat's progress, I present this guy and his incredible range:

Go Bat, Goooooo

2009-10-13T09:31:00.000-05:00

Bat has his bad days and his good days. Just recently, he followed up a bad day with a markedly good day. Christa asked him what happened. He told her he had changed his underwear. I think clean underwear therapy is a direction medicine should look into.

...and then there's great days. Yesterday, Bat's doctor said he is cleared to drive. Gentle reader, I know you've heard me explaining Bat's terrible, terrible condition and his "Final Approach": the Pilot has spoken. Landing has been delayed.

Don't Call It A Comeback

2009-10-07T09:42:00.001-05:00

Talked to Bat on the phone the other day and...I'll call him and get a recording up here soon. He's doing really well. Put on three pounds. He's joking around and back to being one of the smartest guys in the room.

Kirin says he has his off days. I bet. I might have off weeks. But it's wonderful to hear a voice you never thought you'd hear telling you he loves you. Not a bad October Surprise.

Elise's Birthday

2009-10-07T09:38:00.000-05:00

Today is Elise's birthday. It's amazing to see kids slowly becoming who they are. Just when you think Elise's big sister Selah is silly, you see Elise pull of a wacky voice or a goofy laugh and dance.

Elise loves being here with her brothers and sisters. It's here she gets to be both a big sister and a little sister, and it's obvious she relishes both.

Aidan will always politely ask, "Dad, tonight, can i sweep wif Lisey?"

Something tells me Lisey and he tell stories and scratch each other's backs like Erin and I did 35 years ago. (Yes Erin, we're that old.)

Happy birthday, sweet girl.

Love Never Fails

2009-09-28T11:21:00.002-05:00

Guess why my former church allowed the following song to be sung at a wedding:

1. Because it beautifully proclaims the very words of the oft-used 1 Corinthians 13.
2. Because it reminds us of "whatever is true, noble, right and pure."
3. It wasn't, because it does not point people to the cross. And then, begrudgingly, it was allowed to be sung, but only because some other wedding had errantly been allowed to sing it.

Love is not proud
Love does not boast
Love after all
Matters the most

Love does not run
Love does not hide
Love does not keep
Locked inside

Love is the river that flows through
Love never fails you

Love will sustain
Love will provide
Love will not cease
At the end of time

Love will protect
Love always hopes
Love still believes
When you don’t

Love is the arms that are holding you
Love never fails you

When my heart won’t make a sound
When I can’t turn back around
When the sky is falling down
Nothing is greater than this
Greater than this

Love is right here
Love is alive
Love is the way
The truth the life

Love is the river than flows through
Love is the arms that are holding you
Love is the place you will fly to
Love never fails you

vessel

2009-09-28T11:21:00.001-05:00

Maybe we should all stop trying to predict what God is going to do with our life.

Mo' Missy Black : Interview Part 2

2009-09-24T23:27:00.000-05:00

Q: You made a decision to do something to support Trisomy and raise awareness. What did you decide to do, and why?

MBB: After I got home from Ironman Wisconsin 2008 I emailed Michael Hennesy and he gave me his website. I read everything on there and then goggled Trisomy 13 and 18 and read as much as I could. I bookmarked all the blogs I found, all the websites and read as much as I could.

My heart was deeply touched. With each child I read about, each family I read about. A little bit about my history here. I lost a baby sister when she was just 5 days old. She did not have Trisomy, but anencephaly. She was born without her brain. It was the hardest thing I went through as a child. I so wanted a baby sister and finally had one and we lost her 5 days later. This helped me relate to the families who were losing their babies to Trisomy shortly after birth.

I also had a little friend Aimee. She was not "normal" in the world's eyes. Most would have said she was not compatible with life. When we were out people would stare as I pushed her wheel chair. They would stare terribly. Aimee lost her battle with life when she was 14. I knew Aimee almost her whole life and wouldn't trade any of those moments for anything. She touched everyone's life that she came in contact with. She was incredible.

As I read about all Trisomy and these families and all they go through I thought of my sister, Blessing, and my friend Aimee. What would my life had been like if I had never known them? My life was made so much better because of them.

I knew right then and there that I needed to do something to help raise awareness for these Trisomy children and their families. I was very touched by Michael Hennessey and his passion for these children and loved that he was incorporting Ironman into his cause.

At t his point I had been doing sprint triathlons and knew that I wanted to do an Ironman someday. At that point it was just SOMEDAY. I still had well over 100 pounds to lose and really wasn't motivated. I was becoming motivated as I read about these babies. Doctors tell these parents that their children are incompatible with life. My sister was incompatible with life, yet we shared 5 wonderful days with her. My friend Aimee, in the world's eyes was incompatible with life, but we shared 14 wonderful years with her.

My question became who should get to decide who is or isn't compatible with life? I shouldn't get to decide that, the medical profession shouldn't get to decided that, the church shouldn't decide that, America shouldn't decided that. My hope in raising awareness for Trisomy is to help parents have all the options given to them. They should not feel that doctors, nurses, and people have given up on their baby, but should feel that people want to help them bring this baby into the world and do all that they can to help this baby. Even if the baby is only here and hour, a day, a year, or 19 years. These children deserve every chance to live as much as my children did.

I contacted Michael and told him that I would like to join Team Trisomy and do what I could to help raise awareness for these children and their families. I have done 5k's in their honor and triathlons. Every race I have someone's name written on my arm, a picture of them, or something to draw attention to the Trisomy cause.

In 2012 I will do Ironman Wisconsin to not only complete my weight loss journey, but to also raise awareness for Trisomy 13 and 18. If these babies can fight for their lives every day, I can fight for them through my weight loss battle on my way to becoming an Ironman.

It is an honor to be part of Team Trisomy and I look forward to my Ironman journey.

Principal Yurk

2009-09-24T20:01:00.000-05:00

[scrippet]

ETHAN
(pushes his head through the door with a big smile)
Hey, Dad...When you grow up, do you want to be a principal?

GREG
(wondering why the boys are still not in the bathtub)
Why would I want to be a principal?

ETHAN
Because principals own the whole church and school.

GREG
Oh, wow.

ETHAN
My friend Aaron's dad is a principal.

GREG
What does he do?

ETHAN
He talks to people when they're bad. And helps them.

GREG
Are you bad at school?

ETHAN
His name is Principal Yurk. He owns the whole school.

[/scrippet]

Honey Breakdown

2009-09-24T08:23:00.000-05:00

Dan provides an important graph regarding the honey demo.

How Do You Thrive?

2009-09-23T13:21:00.001-05:00

While at the hospital, a discharge person was filling out forms for a program for Zoe. There were boxes to check for her "condition" to see if she qualifies. She was quickly filling out the top, "mental delay, check. physical delay, check, medications, check, special food diet, check. failure to thrive, check..."

Wait.

Thrive?

Happy 18 month birthday, Zoe! We're not sure how you got to 18 months without, as Dictionary.com defines: "prospering; being fortunate or successful."

Talk about thriving: my sister has a friend who just had a baby with Trisomy 18 last week. The baby was born at St. Joseph's in Milwaukee. The medical professionals there released mom and baby the day after she was born, telling the parents to hug and hold her, and...thanks for coming. See you.

It's a week later.

The baby's still alive.

Is she thriving? Check the box. What are we going to check for you?

An Interview With Melissa Bastian Black

2009-09-22T11:37:00.000-05:00

God sends you friends. Melissa Bastian Black and I have talked over the past months trading blog comments and Facebook encouragements. Recently, she sent me this:

Hey Greg and the Batiansila Family. I'm doing a 5k this morning and I'm running in honor of Zoe. I want you to know that I am inspired by your family and your little girl. Right now I am battling my weight and have a goal of doing an Iro...nman in 2012. My battle is nothing compared to your little Zoe's and she and other children keep me going. If they can do it and battle every day of their young lives then I can do it and swim, bike, and run in their honor.

Then, she followed up with this:

Hey Batiansilas. I just ran my best 5k ever. I have never been able to do it in under 50 minutes and I did today. I did it in 47:19. Zoe helped me especially in the last mile. Give that little girl a hug and kiss for me. I couldn't have done it without her.

Which made me think. We all need to know more about Melissa Bastian Black. Here's part one of that interview.

Q: I had never heard of Trisomy before we had Zoe. How did you become aware of Trisomy?

MBB: My trisomy journey started on September 6th, 2008. I have been doing sprint triathlons and had decided that I wanted to eventually do an Ironman, so I decided that I would volunteer at Ironman Wisconsin.

The Saturday before the race I volunteered at gear check. I got to meet so many of the athletes and help them check in their gear. In walks this Cowboy with the biggest grin on his face. I helped him put his gear where it needed to go and noticed his hat. It said, "tri-ing for trisomy." I asked him what trisomy was and that is when I first learned about it.

He told me all about this precious children and their families. He told me that most doctors and medical professionals consider these children non-compatible with life and a lot of couples are encouraged to abort their babies. A lot of these children don't live long after they are born or don't make it to their first birthday, but he told me about kids who are making it past their first birthday and beyond. He was so passionate when he told me these things.

He told me how he was racing his Ironman races to raise awareness and was heading to break a world record. I believe Ironman Wisconsin was his 13th race that year and when I made a comment about that he would not let the conversation turn to him, but rather back to these children and their families. This conversation really touched my heart and I knew that day that my heart had been changed forever.

Q: How long have you known Michael Hennessey and how did you come to know him?

MBB: I met this Cowboy at Ironman Wisconsin 2008. When I asked him his name he told me that it was Michael Hennessey. After we talked I asked him how to get in touch with him after IMWI. I believe he gave me a card. I put that card away, we finished talking, and he left to finish his Ironman journey that weekend.

I got to see Michael on the run of the Ironman the next day. He was smiling as he ran through the aid station and I was able to cheer him on, even got a hug. I was working the finish line when he crossed it. He still had that smile on his face. I don't think he ever stopped smiling. That really left an impression on me. I cheered for him when he crossed the finish line.

I might have even given him his finisher's medal. Then he gave me the BIGGEST HUG ever. I didn't know if he would let go. It was not only the BIGGEST hug, but also the Sweatiest hug. I'll never forget it. I was so happy I had met him the day before, so happy to be part of his race day, and I knew during that hug that I had met someone very special with a wonderful cause.

I stayed and worked the finish line until the race ended at midnight. I cheered in the last runner, headed to my car, and then back to my hotel. I emptied my pockets onto the night stand and there was his business card all crumpled up. Before falling into bed I remember that I knew I had to contact this man. I believe I emailed him the next day.

We have been friends now for a little over a year. I am forever changed for the better from meeting Michael Hennessey.

Q: How did you find out about Zoe?

MBB: Michael Hennessey has a blog on his website www.ironmanforkids.com and he had asked people to pray for this baby named Zoe. I read about her and was very touched by her valiant fight. My kids and I started praying for her. I bookmarked your blog and follow her journey there and on facebook now. I like to call her my Zoe girl or just Zoe girl. She has captured my heart and I love her very much.

Q: How do you think Trisomy is handled and accepted in the U.S. today?

MBB: The fact that I was 34 and had never heard of Trisomy shows me that this is not a priority in this country. I was surprised to learn that Down Syndrome was Trisomy. The only people I have come in contact with that knew what Trisomy was when I talked to them, were families that I know with Down Syndrome children.

The fact that the doctors and nurses, in general, think these children are incompatible with life and never even give these children a chance in their minds shows me that this country is not accepting of children with Trisomy.
These families are not given any hope.

These doctors get to decide who is compatible with life and if it doesn't fit their definition then there is no reason to keep or even give birth to that child. (side note: I know families affected by trisomy that have had great doctors and nurses, so I want to give a shout out to the doctors and nurses who care and who give these little ones a chance.)

It's a shame that in 2009 that there is still so much prejudice in this country. People are prejudice based on race, wealth, and health and so much more. It's time to come together as a country and not judge people just because they are different then you.

The Honey Demographic

2009-09-21T06:42:00.000-05:00

[scrippet]

GREG is lying on the bed, watching "Shanghai Knights" with ZOE lying comfortably on his chest. JEN watches more intently. You see, Chan choreographed all of his stunts in this one.

ETHAN enters holding a bottle of HONEY.

ETHAN
Can I have some honey?

GREG
On what?

ETHAN
(not understanding)
Can I have some honey?

GREG
What are you going to eat it with?

ETHAN
Just honey.

GREG
Just honey?

ETHAN
Just honey, in a bowl, with a spoon.

GREG
You want to- no! Who eats honey like that.

ETHAN
I do.

GREG
Who else?

ETHAN
Selah and Lisey.

GREG
No they don't.

ETHAN
(giggles)
Chinese guys.

GREG
Chinese guys eat honey in bowls with spoons?

ETHAN
...and farmers.
(giggles)
...can I?

[/scrippet]

Zoe's Fall Visit To Children's Ends

2009-09-21T06:28:00.000-05:00

Apologies. Zoe and Jen made it home around 7 pm on Wednesday night. The delay was centered on a number of issues, not the least of which was the discovery that for the previous week, Zoe had been receiving the wrong amount of blood pressure medication twice a day.

Which explained the high blood pressure they measured while she was in the hospital.

Insert rant here. We continue to be grateful to Children's Hospital - Wisconsin. We are also amazed that they are the third best hospital in the world. What does the seventh best do?

Now that she's home, Zoe receives oxygen while she sleeps, which helps to reduce stress on her heart. Outside of that, the whole "why does she stay up for the majority of the night" issue has gone unresolved. On the other hand, if you've wondered what it might be like to sleep next to Darth Vader, I might be able to answer.

Right back into the maelstrom - I handled a long shoot Thursday followed by a shoot Friday, and Jen out to handle auditions for a few casts at a production in Hartford - which hopefully better explains the digital silence.

...and just home and some level of normal. Maybe some wine.

Special thanks to the Popes and Deirdre, who picked up the picking up while we were down a driver; Chris Pope for the taco stuff, perfect on audition night; Ben and Rebekah, who gave us pizzas and stuff that we're still plowing through; Avicom and everyone for putting up with crazy, Pastor Wendorf, a special reminder that sometimes, churches do care.

Way Past Big Speech Time

2009-09-16T11:46:00.000-05:00

Zoe's Out

2009-09-15T10:58:00.000-05:00

No breathing tube, she saw her mom in the hallway and tried to yell for her mom. She has cotton balls in her ears (team 2 put tiny little tubes in her eardrums). Relocated to the fifth floor. Jen's going to be with her.

First Team Through

2009-09-15T10:23:00.000-05:00

First team has found that it is neither Zoe's tonsils or adenoids, but a sagging part of her breathing area. We'll keep you all posted as to what that means.

September 15: Convergence

2009-09-14T23:23:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow three teams of doctors will tend to Zoe and hopefully give us some answers as to what's taxing her breathing while she sleeps.

At the same time, Zoe's big sister will get braces put on...and then in the coming weeks, seven teeth extracted.

Later tomorrow, three of Zoe's older brothers and sisters will try out for a play - two of the three for the first time.

It's funny because in years past, the third of these three statements would have led to quite a stressful night before.

Then again, the three who are auditioning did bring you work like "The Life of a Carrot." I think they'll be fine.

The song that's carrying me through is "This Is Our God" performed by Chris Tomlin and David Crowder*. (Alas, all I can find on YouTube is the non-Crowder version). Peace to our madness.

A refuge for the poor, a shelter from the storm
This is our God
He will wipe away your tears and return your
wasted years
This is our God
Oh... this is our God
A father to the orphan, a healer to the broken
This is our God
And he brings peace to our madness and comfort
in our sadness
This is our God
Oh... this is our God
this is the one we have waited for
Oh... this is our God
A fountain for the thirsty, a lover for the lonely
This is our God
He brings glory to the humble and crowns for the
faithful
This is our God

My Next Breath

2009-09-13T07:55:00.000-05:00

Morning breaks before this eleventh floor. It looks like no one is awake, that the city below is lifeless. That it could be me here in room 1105 and everyone else left.

Zoe's sats have been good. Better - while sleeping - when she's got some o2 flowing by her. Heard last night that Bat is wrestling hiccups for 30 hours, battling to breathe. Along with Zoe, Jen and me.

Where is the next dollar going to come from? Or the next breath? For me, where will the next idea come from? Where will the next time when I'm in the same room with my wife come from? When will the next time my family be together come from? Does God see what I'm going through? What I'm carrying? That I can't take another step? And what is he going to do about it?

Louis Giglio talks about Isaiah 40. He says the answer is a question. Have you not heard? The Lord is an everlasting God. His understanding...no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary. Power to the weak. Those who stand right in the midst of the craziness, in the midst of the pain, dealing in the middle of the chaos, will receive renewed strength.

Zoe Receives A Threat

2009-09-12T16:30:00.000-05:00

A sweet, sweet friend of Zoe's has threatened her: