Friday, September 30, 2011

FYI – a new blog


I just wanted to share with the readers of this blog that I’ve started another blog called Growing younger on the inside. I will definitely still be writing about Celebrating Life, right here. It’s just that I’ve had a desire to write more, and more often, about faith and life issues that don’t necessarily revolve around my boys, and I kind of want to keep the integrity of this blog. That is, I want this blog to be a gift, one day, for Cam and Scott – an archive of their early years. I want this blog to be about celebrating the peaks and valleys of life as a mom – celebrating my sons and celebrating God’s glory which I see draped over their lives every day. This other blog is a platform, I suppose, for me to explore and share thoughts about my personal journey, and the journeys of others, in the hope that some of it might be relevant to those who can’t relate to my musings about snot and jumping castles. This other blog will be about celebrating the fact that as we walk with Jesus, striving to grow ‘in wisdom and in stature and in favour with God and all the people’ (Luke 2:52), to his glory, ‘our spirits are being renewed every day.’ (2 Corinthians 4:16)

Feel free to check it out. 

Monday, September 26, 2011

Guest post by Sarah Adam


I am the card-carrying, banner-waving, founding member and chairperson of the Cameron and Scott Reyburn Fan Club. But I do actually love meeting other kids, too. The past few weeks I’ve been visiting a bunch of different schools, moderating Matric English orals for the IEB. Last week I had the privilege of going to our sister school, St Mary’s DSG. I was really moved by the prepared speech of a particular young lady, Sarah Adam, because she seemed to understand all about celebrating life. I asked her if she’d mind me posting an excerpt of her speech here:  

Stars. Those twinkling celestial bodies embedded deep within the night sky have always held a certain fascination for me. They seem so magical and untouchable and this is probably the reason for them being so often mused upon. It was Lord Byron who said, “Ye stars! Which are the poetry of heaven.” He has not been the only one inspired by stars as I, too, along with countless others, have drawn stimulation from them. However, my inspiration has not culminated in poetry, songs or paintings but rather into symbolism and life lessons learnt from these sparkling astral bodies.

The stars are always glittering above us, whether visible to our eyes or not. Come day, night or even clouds, they are there. One great lesson I’ve learnt from this is that there are certain things in life that are always constant and, as such, need to be accepted. Time is an infinite constant and will always pass. At no point does it ever speed up or stop, and this reminder has gotten me through a lot. When I feel that everything in my life is changing and irregular and nothing is steady, the stars remind me that things like wind and traffic are ever-present constants in life and, although it may feel like the whole world is spinning in a different direction, it isn’t, and much of life is still the same.

It may sound ironic but gazing at the stars keeps me grounded and down-to-earth. I find myself elevating my issues and the things I need to do constantly. My stress levels increase at a rapid pace and I feel as though I’m so highly strung I can’t even touch the ground, but once I remember that, like the stars, there are bigger things beyond my tiny little world, I can calm down and focus. Looking out towards the colossal stars in the great expanse of sky puts it into my mind that I, in comparison to the rest of the world, am very small and there are greater and more important things, beyond my Science Practicals or English Moderation, which will affect my life and the lives of others. In this way, the stars allow me to gain perspective in life and not let small things faze me. … …

Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, “The stars hang bright above, silent, as if they watched the sleeping earth.” And from this, I’ve realised that sometimes it’s better to be a silent observer than someone who always has something to say about everything. Just like the stars, who appear to be all-seeing “And yet with neither love nor hate”, as Robert Frost would put it, pass no comment or judgement, I think it would be beneficial for me to do the same.

My lessons from the stars may be clichéd, and my star gazing and the conclusions I’ve drawn from this may seem a bit of a stretch, but I feel they are creating positivity out of something that is taken for granted and that has been deemed as perfectly ordinary. There is nothing wrong with looking from a different perspective, as Oscar Wilde informed us when saying, “We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
J

‘When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
the moon and the stars you set in place—
what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
human beings that you should care for them?’
– Psalm 8:3-4

Sunday, September 25, 2011

More haikus, in alphabetical order


Aftermath prayer

God, I’m bruised from weeks
Of snot, fever, and no sleep.
Slowly, life settles.

Cameron on his phone

Sophisticated.
Pause. Bossy: ‘I’m afraid so.’  
Then: ‘Ok cheers bye.’

Crayons

So versatile! They
Write on windows and floors and
They are edible!

Dish cloths and dreams

At teatime today  
Lawrence of Arabia
Graced us with himself.

Sandpit

Sunday pseudo-beach
Shade. Quiet, in his nappy,
Happy, just playing.


Scott, you’re ONE!

We celebrate you!
Despite your raging fever
We eat ice-cream cake.

Sincerity

‘Dad, do you think you’ll
Manage or can I help you?’
He’s getting so big.


 And some more photos from the week that's been...



















Praise the Lord!
Let all that I am praise the Lord.
I will praise the Lord as long as I live.
I will sing praises to my God with my dying breath.
Don’t put your confidence in powerful people;
there is no help for you there.
When they breathe their last, they return to the earth,
and all their plans die with them.
But joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper,
whose hope is in the Lord their God.
He made heaven and earth,
the sea, and everything in them.
He keeps every promise forever.
He gives justice to the oppressed
and food to the hungry.
The Lord frees the prisoners.
The Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are weighed down.
The Lord loves the godly.
The Lord protects the foreigners among us.
He cares for the orphans and widows,
but he frustrates the plans of the wicked.
The Lord will reign forever.
He will be your God, O Jerusalem, throughout the generations.
Praise the Lord! – Psalm 146

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Celebrating selectively


My penchant to celebrate life in big ways and little ways has been seriously put to the test. If the past thirty-six hours could be framed in a collage, these would be the startling motifs:

A torn contact lens, a burst eardrum, fever, flu, diarrhoea and more diarrhoea, a paediatrician and several other doctors, a broken Volkswagen being towed away, a Subaru making several trips to two different hospitals and various places of work and schooling, dead camera batteries on the morning of a first birthday (though these had been checked the night before), miserable un-Septemberish weather, minimal – and intermittent – sleep, a cancelled swimming lesson and the ensuing misery, an alarm going off continually and the arrival of well-meaning ADT officers, a laptop hanging in the middle of teaching a class of sixty boys, and a Matric – five weeks away from Finals – asking for an explanation of finite verbs…

This is not a patchwork of colour. This is a bleak, melodramatic depiction of angst, panic and a sense of overwhelming failure (interspersed with self-pity).

Scotty did enjoy playing with his wrapping paper this morning, but besides that I haven’t felt as if there has been a whole lot to celebrate. Murray and I read Habakkuk 3:17-19 again last night (in bed, with tea and Myprodol), and it struck me that sometimes there just isn’t anything to celebrate, in terms of the stuff of life, but that always – always – we can rest in, and celebrate, God.

‘Even though the fig trees have no blossoms,
And there are no grapes on the vines;
Even though the olive crop fails,
And the fields lie empty and barren;
Even though the flocks die in the fields,
And the cattle barns are empty,
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!
The Sovereign Lord is my strength!
He makes me as surefooted as a deer,
Able to tread upon the heights.’

My friend and colleague, Bruce Collins, also just sent me this amazing link (http://catalystconference.com/):

Stop. Pay Attention. Focus. Where Are You?
Where is your heart? Where is your soul?
In a million different places. Mind on a million different things.
Distressed. What needs to be done? Will you finish that project?
Who won the game? Fretting over a to do list that is unfinished.
Talking on the phone. Checking twitter. Updating your status.
Wondering what "they" are doing. What's going on "out there."
Will I ever get ahead? The past. The future. Distracted. Out of Control.
Be still and know that I am God.
Take a deep breath. Rest in Him. Be rooted. Immersed.
Get comfortable with silence. Listen. Find your true voice.
Who and what is right in front of you? See things you didn't see.
Feel things you didn't feel. Now engage in this moment.
Be. Here. Now.
Be Present.

Happy birthday, my Scott-Scott. J

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Scott’s first birthday letter


My Scott,

On Tuesday, 20 September, you will be a whole year old!

I like to write letters to mark events that carry weight in my heart, and your first birthday is most definitely one of those heavy, happy things.

I’ve just gone back a year in my journal to see what I was writing about, and what I was reading, around the time of your birth. A few days before you arrive I describe how excited, exhausted, hope-filled and uncomfortable I am… Then there’s the account of the day of your birth… Then I skip to Wednesday 22 September 2010 – you’re two days old. All I’ve written is:

‘What a wonder.’

There are big gaps in my journal in that period. Actually, there have been big gaps in my journal ever since. Early mornings with God, a pen and my moleskin are rare treasures these days, but I’m not complaining, because I know he is still with me in the very early mornings when you are wide awake and my moleskin lies closed with pages un-inked.J

When I think of you, and this first year of your life, one word keeps coming to mind:

Luminous.

From the moment you opened your eyes in that delivery room, you were luminous, and the incandescence that shimmers on your little self seems only to gleam more brightly as you grow. When Dad looks at you, he’s luminous, too, and I’m so grateful for that. I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it often to you, but your gentle, cheerful, chortling disposition has brought me healing that I actually can’t describe. If another good thing never happens to me for as long as I live – well, I guess that would actually suck – but really, I’d be ok with it, because you were the outpouring that overflowed an already full-to-the-brim life.

You are a glowing gift to your big brother, too, and he adores you. (Today, Dad found you yelling in frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Cam had you in his vice-like clutches, heroically preventing you from climbing the stairs – which you love doing – because he knew you would be in danger of falling down. You should probably thank him. J)

Your health hasn’t been great over the past two months or so, and we have really been praying for you. But the ups and downs of viruses and new teeth haven’t thwarted your resolve. If I take my eyes off you for a second, you invariably unpack a bookshelf, lick Lola or eat something dodgy. I think you desperately want to walk, and every now and then you take a tentative, collapsing kind of step.

My baby who is nearly not a baby: thank you for the radiance you have stirred into our lives, and for the deep things you have stirred in our hearts.

Two verses Dad and I want to share with you as you turn 1:

‘But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives…’ – Job 19:25

‘…be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord you God is with you wherever you go.’ – Joshua 1:9

All my love,

Mom

xx




Wednesday, September 14, 2011

'Voor op die wa' but seriously cute



‘So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up…’ – 1 Peter 5:6

We are currently walking the precarious parental tightrope of teaching humility while nurturing confidence… 

I was going to be out for most of Saturday, and so on Saturday morning Murray was excitedly telling Cam about all the cool boy stuff he had planned for them for the day. Fun! Adventure! Cam listened for a while and then said, ‘No Dad. You keep quiet now and let me do the talking.’


When Uncle Andy saw Cam with his new glasses the other day, he made a big fuss with something like, ‘Hey, who’s this smart looking guy with the new glasses, etc.’ Cam bounded into the room and yelled, ‘That would be me!’

‘Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it.’ – Proverbs 22:6

* Voor op die wa is an Afrikaans expression meaning precocious or ‘too big for your boots’

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Living inside a miracle

I think sometimes when you’re living inside a miracle, you forget to notice its beauty and magnificence.

It was yesterday three years ago – 10 September 2008 – that Cameron had his first cataract operation, on his right eye. On Friday afternoon we were eating lemon creams on the lawn, and scrutinizing his tea time bowl he said to me, ‘Mom, look at these letters on my biscuit!’ He was born blind. Three years ago the miracle began and today he can see the Bakerman’s markings on a lemon cream. It left me filled with quiet awe.

I forget, too, that we are living inside an even greater miracle because God was eager to give up his splendour and become like us. He was strung up to die because his love for us was that enormous. And now every day we are free.






Friday, September 9, 2011

God’s power and goodness in 6 haikus

Healing

The wonder of it:
Little body recovered
Sparkling eyes again

Imagination

‘Going on a trip
In our favourite rocket ship!’
Cam creates whole worlds…

Language

Scott is saying words –
Miraculous pathways form
In his brain: ‘Doggy.’

Genetics

We recognise us
In DNA outworkings
Of our little ones

Weakness

Being a parent
Equals knowing I will fail.
I just keep praying.

Garden

Hours spent: green shade,
Sun, sky. Swing! Slide! Laughter! Juice…
Memory-making

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

God’s glory in sweat, sickness and specs

Sweat

I have a Jillian Michaels DVD – my best option at the moment in terms of exercise. The workouts are quick, I don’t have to leave the house or find a babysitter, I can do them any time, and I can pause in the middle to change a nappy. However, it’s not often that I get through a whole – wait for it – twenty minute workout. Today, for example, Scott dropped my dumbbells on his feet and howled inconsolably. Then, midway through push-ups, I had Cam climbing on top of me to lie across my back. He also needed help finding a lost puzzle piece. Once the piece was found, Scott needed help not to eat it. So I got through circuit one (of three) and gave up and lay on the carpet and they climbed on me some more and I thought, ‘For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3:1) A time to be ripped and gorgeous; and a time to have toddlers climbing on you.’

It was a moment of happy surrender to love and inevitability.

Sickness

Scotty is still sick – but we pray and trust and cuddle him a ridiculous amount. And we are thankful for antibiotics and rehydrate sachets and Granny (who has been looking after him and recording the number of dirty nappies).

Specs

Almost daily Cam leaves me flabbergasted – seriously – with how perceptive and observant he is. Today he started wearing his new (near vision) bifocals, over his (far vision) contact lenses, and they are making a difference already. Ever since his last EUA he has been super excited to get them. We told him this morning there was a special surprise for him. Murray produced the glasses case – in which he had put not only the new specs but also some chocolate eggs. Cunning. It was a gift to see that Cam felt so handsome J He was immediately comfortable and confident. And he cleaned the glasses a lot with his ‘glasses cloth’. They are very clean.

‘For you are the fountain of life, the light by which we see.’ – Psalm 36:9

*Note to Cam for when you read this one day: just wanted to let you know that you had a lousy incident at school today, and Dad and I laid hands on you and prayed for you tonight, while you were sleeping. Gosh, I’m so thankful for the peace that comes from knowing you are in the Father’s hands, and that he is mighty to protect and strengthen and establish you. Remind me and I’ll tell you all about it.




The boys just love this tea cosy…


Kitchen gloves… or shoes…







Who says Spiderman doesn't enjoy a bit of Milo at bedtime…?

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Scrum

Touch

I had one of those freeze-forever moments with Scott this week. I put on a Watershed CD and we danced in the lounge, just sommer. It was pretty appropriate. ‘I see your blue eyes; they shine on me…’ He gets deliriously happy when we dance and spin and rock and the blue eyes get shinier and shinier and the award-winning flirtatious glances all the more melting. J

Pause

Scotty is still in the doldrums of diarrhoea – so much so that we had to push pause on his (early) birthday party, which we’d planned for today. He’s pretty cheerful, all things considered, and must be on the mend because this morning there was a microcosm of rugby happening on our bed at 6:00am. Two boys scrumming, squealing, squirming, flailing arms and legs and mashing digestive biscuits into our duvet.

I’ve been reminded this week, amidst my inner grimaces of frustration at being sick, of Elizabeth Elliot’s injunction not to say ‘laid aside by illness’, but rather ‘called aside to stillness’. Shoo. The discipline just to pause.

‘Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him.’ – Psalm 25:5

Engage

Wednesday was a real victory for Cammy in terms of engagement. We met Leigh and her little Rebekah (2 ½ ) at Irene Dairy for coffee and a play date. Cam was ecstatic about playing on the tractor and the jungle gym, but when we got there he hovered around on his own, talking to himself and moving aimlessly from foot to foot, not unhappy but not quite sure where to go and feigning nonchalance. Leigh had encouraged Rebekah to fetch Cam and take him to where she was playing. Cam said, ‘Where’s Rebekah? She hasn’t fetched me.’ Rebekah trotted up to Cam, grabbed his hand and led him to the jungle gym. He beamed enormously, ‘Thank you, Rebekah!’ It was awesome! He needed help because he couldn’t see where to go or what she was doing. He asked. She came. They jungle-gymed happily. Thank God for the way he is growing Cam in these social signals that normally rely so much on vision.

Earlier in the week, Cam engaged with Scott less constructively. I found him in the garden with Scott and the hosepipe – drenched and drenching, respectively. Scott was yelling and bedraggled. Cam was guilty and apologetic and trying to talk me out of imminent punishment. I was trying very hard not to laugh.

Other good engagements this week: the iLead Conference, prayer, lunch with a St Alban’s old boy, coffee with my boss, a lot of time in bed watching Jungle Book on my laptop with Cam, tea with friends, the help of family, the advice of a paediatrician, the love of my husband.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

We all have gastro.

That is all I have to say.

More news, celebrations of life, and poignant moments filled with an awareness of God’s glory when I am feeling human and able to stay vertical for longer than ten minutes.

Cool (and applicable) blog post by someone else (who doesn’t have gastro): Motherhood is application

And some pre-gastro photies…