Third (Part 3)

     Once the operating room calmed and the staff regained composure, the process of prepping my wife for surgery started from the top.  It took another fifteen minutes and my wife was ready…or so everyone thought.  Then, Dr. Bryars went to make the cut in my wife’s abdomen and announced that the surgical application covering her abdomen had been taped on and applied upside-down!

     “Ahhhhhhhhh!”  I screamed silently in my head.  This was too much.  I looked at God, however one does that, and I smiled the biggest smile.  I knew he was playing with me.  At that moment I KNEW we were going to have a little girl.  Earlier, when the fly landed, I had a hunch He was up to something, but now I knew it.  He was toying with me and I loved every minute of it.  I whispered a silent thanks as I turned my attention back to my wife.

     The dressing was removed and replaced facing the proper direction.  It was the fault of an intern learning a lesson the hard way.  She was apologetic and rather embarrassed. Finally, the surgery began.

     And ten minutes later our child was pulled into this world by Dr. Bryars as he casually announced,  “It’s a girl!” 

     The words echoed in our heads and in our hearts.  My wife and I repeated them to each other.  “It’s a girl!  It’s a girl!”  We both started to cry.  ”It’s Hannah,” I said softly to her as the nurse handed our daughter to us.  “She is beautiful.  She is absolutely beautiful!”

     We had the name Hannah picked out since our first child and now she was finally here.  We could hardly believe it.  It was a moment neither of us will ever forget, a gift beyond any gift imaginable.  A little girl named Hannah was now a part of our family of five thanks to the One who works in amazing, magnificent, and memorable ways.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

There’s no man like a Snowman!

The recent chilly weather got me thinking. 

Do you remember the old classic Heinz commercial where a little boy stared into a full ketchup bottle waiting for the object of his desire to emerge on to his plate while the background music played, “Anticipation, anticipation…”  Well, for some reason that is how I feel about the upcoming winter in Alabama.  I am literally praying that we might see some of that freezing white fun they call snow sometime this winter.  For all of us in the middle portion of the state it has been years since we have seen any real accumulation.  As a matter of fact, of my three kids only the oldest can remember ever seeing snow in our yard.  Now you may think I am being selfish, but I don’t think any growing child should be deprived of the unique opportunity to pelt his or her sibling with a tightly packed ball of fresh powder.  I also think every child should have an Alabama memory of sledding full speed down a deserted wintry street past his newly created snowman and crashing headlong into a snowbank in front of the neighbor’s house.  But alas, perhaps my dreams are in vain.

The problem is this.  It has snowed here before.  As a matter of fact our last big snow was over eight inches!  (Okay you northerners…you can stop snickering, now…)  So, we have had a taste of the good life.  That is why it is so hard to deal with the current situation.  I really want to share a snow day or two with my family before they are grown.  I would love to wake up to the sound of silence in the streets and the radio declaration that, “Everything is closed!  Stay home and go crazy with your wife and your kids!”  That would be the greatest opportunity in the world for me, a blog waiting to happen!  Will it?  We’ll see.

From my desktop to yours…hopefully, it will be another Alabama memory!

Thank you, God.

I love my family.  They have been a constant throughout my life.  I still remember the day that God brought each of my children into this world.  Of course, the first is the most memorable.

It was in August of 1994 and I was about to start a new job teaching Alabama history to ninth graders at Northport Junior High School.  I had my classroom ready and was eager to prove myself in this new position.  My principal was aware of the possibility of my absence near the beginning of school, which was a good thing because sure enough, on the eve of my first day teaching, my wife went into labor.  It started as back pains, and then turned into regular back pains.  Once she was having these pains about every five minutes I took a deep breath and called the doctor.  We grabbed her bags and headed for the hospital.  We were awake all night.

Just before daybreak my wife and I were prepared for surgery.  She had pushed and sweated and given it her all.  It was time for a section.  My adrenaline was still pumping as I put on my mask and waited.  They won’t let you in the room for the spinal tap.  I was very nervous, but I wanted to be strong for my bride.  After a few minutes of waiting, I was allowed in the operating room and given instructions.  Somehow, I heard and followed them, but my attentions were more focused on my wife, flat on her back, arms spread out as Christ on the cross, somewhat relaxed for the first time all night.  I sat down and spoke to her, trying to offer continued comfort.  The whole scene was surreal.  The lights that covered her body were intense and brilliant.  The doctors and nurses worked at a steady pace.  I did not watch at first, but my curiosity soon got the best of me.  It was about that time that our son was born.

It was incredible, overwhelming, beautiful, amazing, fantastic, and unforgettable to see a new life, a new person, emerge from under those intense surgical lights.  My first thoughts were of the Creator God who formed this baby from the start.  I had nothing to do with this.  I did not place his eyes where they were.  I did not give him arms and legs and lungs to breathe.  I did not even make him a boy.  All of this was done without consenting me.  All of this was done in the silence of the womb.  It was a gift beyond gifts to be allowed to be the first to witness His creation up close and personal.  When I held my son for the first time I cried and I smiled and I prayed.  Thank you God.  Thank you. 

That is a moment I will never forget.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.