So it's been a while since I've blogged. Life with two little boys is fun, crazy, and an adventure always...but it hasn't always helped me find time for writing. There have a been a lot of great things that have happened with us in the last few months, not least of which is the birth of a new little boy Elison. I also had my book published, Sacred Hope.
My good friend Stephen is going to be trying to blog once a week, and I thought that would be a good, and healthy goal for me too. I have a lot of things that I'd like to write about as a way of processing thoughts, and I thought that by writing regularly, it would be a really good discipline and way to cultivate those thoughts. I will try to be brief and playful at times, but more than anything, I just need to write.
This week have had two special moments for me with my oldest son Rowan. One happened today, I took him with me to get a haircut, his first done done at the hands of a professional instead of Shey. I didn't know what to expect, but he did a really great job, didn't cry, and was super excited for his slurpee prize afterward! At one point I look down and realize as he's sitting in the chair, how much he's grown, and crazy it is to be a father. Rowan is my son. My SON. As I watched him squirm with the clippers and give his hair stylist a high five when it was all done, I just kept thinking about how fast he is growing up and how humbling it is to be a part of helping him grow up.
The other thing that happened with Rowan, was that while I was giving Eli a bottle one day this week, Rowan sat on the couch and we watched an episode of Clifford the Big Red Dog together. During the episode one of the dogs had a best friend that moved away and was coming back for a visit. And for a while, the show centered around the two dogs being friends, and all the great things they did together, and ways they played. Then, one of the dogs moved away. And I look over, and my two-and-a-half year old has tears running down his cheeks. And as the show continues and the dog friends reunite, his tears continue to roll down. It was a beautiful moment to watch him learn and feel empathy for others. It broke my heart to see him recognize that kind of life lesson, but it brought tears to my eyes to witness his response of kindness, empathy, and joy when the friends were reunited.
This parenting thing is certainly one of the most humbling endeavors I have ever been on, but it is also one of the most insightful times of my life as well. I hope that I can find the strength to help Rowan grow up well, and help him live in that space of hopeful empathy and love for others, especially when he sees others hurting.
Showing posts with label rowan joshua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rowan joshua. Show all posts
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Sunday, January 10, 2010
bumps and bruises
Rowan took his first spill tonight where he got a good bump and bruise on his head, plus a good cut with some blood. No fun. He actually didn't freak out very much; I think Shey and I were probably more surprised and worried to see his response than he was himself. But we didn't make any loud or surprising gasps at the sight of blood, and he calmed down in less time than a temper tantrum.
I've spent a good part of the last few months thinking about hope, in both preparing to write and in writing the book on sacred hope for students. It forced me to take a look at some of the bumps and bruises of the last couple of years, and some of the deeper wounds that are still healing from years past. Rowan is going to have a bump for a couple of weeks probably, and will have a little mark for probably months. All from climbing up on his play kitchen, slipping, and then bumping his head on the corner of our buffet.
I am just finally able to start talking about in any meaningful way about some of the traumatic experiences of the last year and a half, and yet we already have some new challenges that have arisen while finishing the book. I keep looking for a pause button somewhere; a place or time where I can catch my breath, slow down, and recharge, but so far we haven't found that place yet.
I suppose it is like advent: the waiting, the anticipation, the longing. Anticipation is a difficult emotion and means of life. It necessitates a hope in the present while also implying a hope in the future. It is really hard to live in those tensions. Not to mention the bumps and bruises along the way. Sometimes the bumps and bruises are actually cuts much deeper though, and take much longer to heal than I want to admit. I know that I haven't wanted to admit the pain still exists and affects me. In some ways, I'm just learning how to speak again.
I hope this means that I will figure out how to be a better husband and dad, to find a rigorous hope that helps me to live into the present with greater awareness of the future. The bumps and bruises are always scary at first, but they heal quickly; it is learning how to gain feeling back into the places where there were deep wounds and gashes that take time, silence, and perseverance.
I've spent a good part of the last few months thinking about hope, in both preparing to write and in writing the book on sacred hope for students. It forced me to take a look at some of the bumps and bruises of the last couple of years, and some of the deeper wounds that are still healing from years past. Rowan is going to have a bump for a couple of weeks probably, and will have a little mark for probably months. All from climbing up on his play kitchen, slipping, and then bumping his head on the corner of our buffet.
I am just finally able to start talking about in any meaningful way about some of the traumatic experiences of the last year and a half, and yet we already have some new challenges that have arisen while finishing the book. I keep looking for a pause button somewhere; a place or time where I can catch my breath, slow down, and recharge, but so far we haven't found that place yet.
I suppose it is like advent: the waiting, the anticipation, the longing. Anticipation is a difficult emotion and means of life. It necessitates a hope in the present while also implying a hope in the future. It is really hard to live in those tensions. Not to mention the bumps and bruises along the way. Sometimes the bumps and bruises are actually cuts much deeper though, and take much longer to heal than I want to admit. I know that I haven't wanted to admit the pain still exists and affects me. In some ways, I'm just learning how to speak again.
I hope this means that I will figure out how to be a better husband and dad, to find a rigorous hope that helps me to live into the present with greater awareness of the future. The bumps and bruises are always scary at first, but they heal quickly; it is learning how to gain feeling back into the places where there were deep wounds and gashes that take time, silence, and perseverance.
Monday, July 13, 2009
hope in suffering
I have been thinking about hope a lot lately, for a lot of reasons, namely that my son Rowan just turned one about a month ago, and that I was recently asked to write a book for students on hope in the near future with a cool publishing house out in Kansas City (more on all this when some of the details get worked out, and it becomes official). But mostly because this past year saw some difficult experiences that have taken a long time for me to spend time sitting in, reflecting on, and let change me. I can't begin to describe the amount of hours that Shey and I have spent in conversation, tears, prayer, silence, and even yelling as the pressure that suffering caused erupted into our lives.
When Rowan was born June 10, 2008, Shey had already been in the hospital for over a week with intense back pain that the doctors had been attributing to Rowan pressing on Shey's sciatic nerve, but actually was the fruition of an infection developed in the bone of her spine which was also causing severe inflammation in the muscles near the infection and dramatic pain. Watching and being with Shey as the pain intensified for over a month prior to Rowan's birth, and especially right before and after his birth...all while the doctors tried to figure out just what was actually happening, were some of the most difficult days of my short life. And then, when Rowan was born with pneumonia and air trapped outside of his lungs causing him to breathe poorly along with being premature and a few other issues, the suffering intensified into new heights. Not to mention that for the first four days of Rowan's life, Shey and Rowan were in different hospitals, literally forcing me to choose between the two of them as they took up residence 1 1/2 hours apart. After three weeks in hospitals, both Shey and Rowan would come home: Shey, barely able to move on her own, with months of slow therapy, and a lot of medicinal treatment to go; Rowan, as good as new, and a toughness to complement his easy-going personality.
There were many other hardships during those three weeks at the hospital, and certainly plenty when we made it back home, but I am not writing tonight to try to spell out all of the suffering or to make anyone have pity for me or our situation at that time. In fact, Shey has known plenty of other suffering with her only sister suffering the traumatic effects of a brain injury suffered in a car accident nearing 10 years ago. I've stood at the bedside of a student with her parents as she breathed a final breath after a battle with brain cancer at only 16. We've got close friends whose newborn has already had multiple heart surgeries, and have been greatly encouraged and impressed with their tenacity, hope, and resilience. All this to say: both Shey and I know that everyone has or will experience suffering in their life. We aren't special, we don't have any claim to fame, or even believe that we handle things like this perfectly.
But I process and reflect through writing. And I have been shying away from writing about this for a long time. Not because I haven't wanted to...but because I wanted to let the experience of last year to sink in. To try to desperately to hear the still, quiet voice of God in the suffering and hardships of the past year. To let the silence fill my heart. To let my silence give room to hear the community of people around me, and to spend my time processing things deeply with the close family and friends who gave ears to listen, and wisdom to share. And I wanted to spend this past year with my new family. Shey and I have been together for a long time now, and there was a lot we wanted to process together, and enjoy together with the new addition to our family. Not to mention, for the last three years, I had been going to seminary full time plus working full time at the church, so I wanted to take a year to slow down, enjoy living out in the country, spend time with Shey and Rowan, and heal up a bit.
I'd like to post some thoughts on hope in suffering, and how I've worked through some of the dark periods of my life, not really for any other reason than that it is time, it is time for me to speak about it out loud to others, so as to name the suffering and reflect upon the hope found in suffering. Not hope because of suffering, not hope caused or brought on by suffering, but hope in suffering. Maybe later I will unpack all that theologically. But not right now.
I was reading over an email recently I sent to two close friends at a pinnacle of the hospital stay, as it was one of those emails that just comes out, like when you have to throw-up whether you want to or not...and I can remember a couple of words from the email, and weeping as I wrote. I wept because I had nothing to give, nothing that I was holding back, and I knew these two guys would be there and had already been there to listen. To hear me. To give ears, hearts, hands, and knees to the pain they both were watching me and my family experience, and go through with us too, as they shared in depths of the darkness with us. And the next morning, when I finally talked to and/or saw those guys, I experienced in a new way why Jesus necessarily had to come to earth. Why Jesus had to be a person, a living breathing, blood-in-the-veins, scraped hands, dirty feet, smelly of a person: namely, because hope is always embodied. Hope takes shape. Hope in some distant place isn't the grandest hope to me, hope found in others helps to give life meaning and possibility when suffering seems to be closing every door. And those two guys in numerous ways embodied hope and made it real, being living light in the stormy clouds of life's grey shadows.
And hope took shape when our families surrounded us, or my parents hopped on a plane the moment I called them for help. Or when moms, friends, kind nurses, or family stayed with Shey or with Rowan when I couldn't be with one of them. Hope embodied is the best hope of all. It is the perfect blend of hope that changes the present and the future. Hope embodied in voices singing to my son when I couldn't hold his hand, hope embodied in friends who helped Shey to laugh when tears had been the only words spoken, or friends who let the silence speak...and simply were present with us in that silence that speaks a thousand words without a sound ever being made. Or kind emails, voicemails, hospital visits, flowers, all signs, markers, reminders of a hope made real. This isn't some pie-in-the-sky hope. This isn't some "well one day things will be better hope." This is hope eternal changing the present reality. This is embodied hope that changed me. That gave hope in suffering, because it was embodied in others, when I couldn't find it in myself, or have the eyes to see it.
Does this mean that there isn't hope for the future, or that embodied hope is the only kind of hope? Surely not. But the embodied hope of today, is a marker, a sign, a cosmos-altering way of being in the world that actually makes a difference. As Jesus says so beautifully in teaching us to pray, "May God's will be done on earth as in heaven," amen. Amen. Hope embodied is hope that can illuminate the darkness of suffering. It doesn't remove the pain of suffering, or make anything easy. But it is real. And it is present.
When Rowan was born June 10, 2008, Shey had already been in the hospital for over a week with intense back pain that the doctors had been attributing to Rowan pressing on Shey's sciatic nerve, but actually was the fruition of an infection developed in the bone of her spine which was also causing severe inflammation in the muscles near the infection and dramatic pain. Watching and being with Shey as the pain intensified for over a month prior to Rowan's birth, and especially right before and after his birth...all while the doctors tried to figure out just what was actually happening, were some of the most difficult days of my short life. And then, when Rowan was born with pneumonia and air trapped outside of his lungs causing him to breathe poorly along with being premature and a few other issues, the suffering intensified into new heights. Not to mention that for the first four days of Rowan's life, Shey and Rowan were in different hospitals, literally forcing me to choose between the two of them as they took up residence 1 1/2 hours apart. After three weeks in hospitals, both Shey and Rowan would come home: Shey, barely able to move on her own, with months of slow therapy, and a lot of medicinal treatment to go; Rowan, as good as new, and a toughness to complement his easy-going personality.
There were many other hardships during those three weeks at the hospital, and certainly plenty when we made it back home, but I am not writing tonight to try to spell out all of the suffering or to make anyone have pity for me or our situation at that time. In fact, Shey has known plenty of other suffering with her only sister suffering the traumatic effects of a brain injury suffered in a car accident nearing 10 years ago. I've stood at the bedside of a student with her parents as she breathed a final breath after a battle with brain cancer at only 16. We've got close friends whose newborn has already had multiple heart surgeries, and have been greatly encouraged and impressed with their tenacity, hope, and resilience. All this to say: both Shey and I know that everyone has or will experience suffering in their life. We aren't special, we don't have any claim to fame, or even believe that we handle things like this perfectly.
But I process and reflect through writing. And I have been shying away from writing about this for a long time. Not because I haven't wanted to...but because I wanted to let the experience of last year to sink in. To try to desperately to hear the still, quiet voice of God in the suffering and hardships of the past year. To let the silence fill my heart. To let my silence give room to hear the community of people around me, and to spend my time processing things deeply with the close family and friends who gave ears to listen, and wisdom to share. And I wanted to spend this past year with my new family. Shey and I have been together for a long time now, and there was a lot we wanted to process together, and enjoy together with the new addition to our family. Not to mention, for the last three years, I had been going to seminary full time plus working full time at the church, so I wanted to take a year to slow down, enjoy living out in the country, spend time with Shey and Rowan, and heal up a bit.
I'd like to post some thoughts on hope in suffering, and how I've worked through some of the dark periods of my life, not really for any other reason than that it is time, it is time for me to speak about it out loud to others, so as to name the suffering and reflect upon the hope found in suffering. Not hope because of suffering, not hope caused or brought on by suffering, but hope in suffering. Maybe later I will unpack all that theologically. But not right now.
I was reading over an email recently I sent to two close friends at a pinnacle of the hospital stay, as it was one of those emails that just comes out, like when you have to throw-up whether you want to or not...and I can remember a couple of words from the email, and weeping as I wrote. I wept because I had nothing to give, nothing that I was holding back, and I knew these two guys would be there and had already been there to listen. To hear me. To give ears, hearts, hands, and knees to the pain they both were watching me and my family experience, and go through with us too, as they shared in depths of the darkness with us. And the next morning, when I finally talked to and/or saw those guys, I experienced in a new way why Jesus necessarily had to come to earth. Why Jesus had to be a person, a living breathing, blood-in-the-veins, scraped hands, dirty feet, smelly of a person: namely, because hope is always embodied. Hope takes shape. Hope in some distant place isn't the grandest hope to me, hope found in others helps to give life meaning and possibility when suffering seems to be closing every door. And those two guys in numerous ways embodied hope and made it real, being living light in the stormy clouds of life's grey shadows.
And hope took shape when our families surrounded us, or my parents hopped on a plane the moment I called them for help. Or when moms, friends, kind nurses, or family stayed with Shey or with Rowan when I couldn't be with one of them. Hope embodied is the best hope of all. It is the perfect blend of hope that changes the present and the future. Hope embodied in voices singing to my son when I couldn't hold his hand, hope embodied in friends who helped Shey to laugh when tears had been the only words spoken, or friends who let the silence speak...and simply were present with us in that silence that speaks a thousand words without a sound ever being made. Or kind emails, voicemails, hospital visits, flowers, all signs, markers, reminders of a hope made real. This isn't some pie-in-the-sky hope. This isn't some "well one day things will be better hope." This is hope eternal changing the present reality. This is embodied hope that changed me. That gave hope in suffering, because it was embodied in others, when I couldn't find it in myself, or have the eyes to see it.
Does this mean that there isn't hope for the future, or that embodied hope is the only kind of hope? Surely not. But the embodied hope of today, is a marker, a sign, a cosmos-altering way of being in the world that actually makes a difference. As Jesus says so beautifully in teaching us to pray, "May God's will be done on earth as in heaven," amen. Amen. Hope embodied is hope that can illuminate the darkness of suffering. It doesn't remove the pain of suffering, or make anything easy. But it is real. And it is present.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
excited
So I am sitting in the office waiting for someone to arrive at the church office to replace the broken windshield on the church van, watching cnn.com live. So much has happened and changed for my family in this past year, that it has been hard to slow down and process the amount of good and also difficult things that have taken place. But sitting here this morning, in the quiet office, listening to the radio and watching things online, seeing the excitement of people on the mall, or hearing the stories of folks traveling hundreds or thousands of miles to be at the inauguration has been powerful for me. I heard a story on NPR this morning of an African-American woman who is 105 years old, who has seen so much change, experienced so much discrimination, and who would stop at nothing to make her way to DC with the help of some folks to witness with her own eyes, an event that she never thought she would live to see. And on one hand I am struck by the enormity of this situation, of the significance of an event today that perhaps stretches beyond words, and exemplifies a tide of change and restored hope in the power of goodness, kindness and service towards others. But on the other hand, I am amazed at the simplicity and innate importance of relationships and life stories. To even stop for a second this morning and reflect on the life experiences that this woman had in her 105 years of life, and how those experiences have shaped her and formed her into the person she is today, is humbling and simply inspiring.
Recently, as my son Rowan is starting to watch the movements of his mom and I more closely, and interact in ways that try to elicit a response from us, I realize that Rowan will be growing up in a world that is different than mine. One in which race, sexuality, religion, and hyper-connectivity will be or will continue to be issues to be worked out in the global village...but I have some newfound hope for him today. That perhaps differences can actually be overcome. That perhaps race will not divide us as it once has in this country. That the world and life experiences which form him, will not be steeped in as much ignorance as the generations before him. A world in which the relationships and life stories of the women, children, and men whose lives were often ignored or cast aside as the losers of history, or purposely forgotten for the sake of progress, that these life stories will rise to the surface and help remind us all of our shared humanity and need for humility.
I know that Rowan is not aware of what is happening on an intellectual level today, but I am excited for him, and I hope that he can feel the excitement and hope in his mom and I today as we rejoice over this moment of history. And I look forward to Rowan growing up in light of the hopeful change that is taking place today at the inauguration of our new president. May the grace of God be with Obama and his family, and may we each do our part, not to make America great, but to unite in our shared humanity, to celebrate both the beauty and significance of this day, while also do our best to listen to the stories of those who had once been discriminated, left out, and ignored so that we may not repeat the mistakes of the past or leave untold the stories of those who are most easily forgotten.
Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.
Recently, as my son Rowan is starting to watch the movements of his mom and I more closely, and interact in ways that try to elicit a response from us, I realize that Rowan will be growing up in a world that is different than mine. One in which race, sexuality, religion, and hyper-connectivity will be or will continue to be issues to be worked out in the global village...but I have some newfound hope for him today. That perhaps differences can actually be overcome. That perhaps race will not divide us as it once has in this country. That the world and life experiences which form him, will not be steeped in as much ignorance as the generations before him. A world in which the relationships and life stories of the women, children, and men whose lives were often ignored or cast aside as the losers of history, or purposely forgotten for the sake of progress, that these life stories will rise to the surface and help remind us all of our shared humanity and need for humility.
I know that Rowan is not aware of what is happening on an intellectual level today, but I am excited for him, and I hope that he can feel the excitement and hope in his mom and I today as we rejoice over this moment of history. And I look forward to Rowan growing up in light of the hopeful change that is taking place today at the inauguration of our new president. May the grace of God be with Obama and his family, and may we each do our part, not to make America great, but to unite in our shared humanity, to celebrate both the beauty and significance of this day, while also do our best to listen to the stories of those who had once been discriminated, left out, and ignored so that we may not repeat the mistakes of the past or leave untold the stories of those who are most easily forgotten.
Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
4 years
Happy 4 years of marriage to my wonderful wife and best friend. I love you Shey! Here's to the new adventure of parenthood together. I couldn't imagine doing this without you. Thanks for loving me so well.
Monday, August 11, 2008
i can still cash in
Well, so its been a while. Those of you who are close to the Hayden's know that it has been a crazy couple of months for us, including the expansion of our family, bouts with terrible infections, extended hospital visits, graduating from seminary, and overall just plain old business. For those who may be reading from afar, both literally or figuratively, or following along from my family blog which I write and share with Shey my wife, or have no idea what I am talking about...check out the family blog...it is a looong story, with a lot of drama, and there is no need to rewrite everything here. I'll share a couple of things, but otherwise, for more details and lots of great pictures, check out our family blog.
First off, Shey and I are so thankful to have a new member of our family, Rowan Joshua Hayden, born on June 10, 2008. As of my previous post, I was giving my Master's Sermon on June 3. After preaching (and passing!) my master's sermon, I went home to Shey who was having severe back pain and spasms. After not sleeping, we called for an ambulance to take Shey to the hospital, upon which we would be staying in either Fauquier or UVA Hospital for the next 3 weeks. To make a long story short, Shey ended up having osteomyelitis, being the second or third reported case of osteomyelitis occurring in a pregnant woman that has been recorded. Not a great way to be special! Rowan was born at Fauquier Hospital, and then transferred to UVA, where he stayed for two weeks receiving various treatments for a variety of issues. Thankfully Rowan has had a full and great recovery and is home and doing well. Shey's recovery was quite a bit longer, but thankfully, she too is doing a lot better and we are all home together. I'm glossing over some of the most difficult times in my married life (and life as a whole) that tore my insides out at times, but maybe later I'll unpack more of that experience here, but right now, just the basics.
Shey is one of the most amazing people I know. For sure I am biased, but she is so much tougher than me. Shey is so strong, kind, and courageous, and I couldn't have been more proud of being married to anyone in my life. And Rowan, not only is he cute, but he's got the strong spirit of his mom, and he too is a fighter and so very strong. The family has expanded to include this new little man, and I couldn't be happier than to have them both in my life!
On another completely different note: the Hayden's have also bought their first Macbook (the first we both have had together, and the first we've each had since we were kids). In fact, this is my first post from the new black macbook we bought, and so far, I couldn't be happier with our new computer. We still have some learning curves but each day gets a little easier in learning how to use our new computer. If anyone has any good tips or advice on how to get to know our macbook better, let me know!
Lastly, it is exciting to know that as little as I've posted i can still cash in on my blog and stir up some bitterness even without posting. (Glad you are back safely from Germany Seth!) I really do hope folks are well and am looking forward to getting back into the swing of posting. For the most part, I will probably keep most of the family stuff on the family blog, but I'm sure there will be some overlap, well, b/c they are my family.
So what have I missed? How are folks doing? And of course, meet Rowan:
First off, Shey and I are so thankful to have a new member of our family, Rowan Joshua Hayden, born on June 10, 2008. As of my previous post, I was giving my Master's Sermon on June 3. After preaching (and passing!) my master's sermon, I went home to Shey who was having severe back pain and spasms. After not sleeping, we called for an ambulance to take Shey to the hospital, upon which we would be staying in either Fauquier or UVA Hospital for the next 3 weeks. To make a long story short, Shey ended up having osteomyelitis, being the second or third reported case of osteomyelitis occurring in a pregnant woman that has been recorded. Not a great way to be special! Rowan was born at Fauquier Hospital, and then transferred to UVA, where he stayed for two weeks receiving various treatments for a variety of issues. Thankfully Rowan has had a full and great recovery and is home and doing well. Shey's recovery was quite a bit longer, but thankfully, she too is doing a lot better and we are all home together. I'm glossing over some of the most difficult times in my married life (and life as a whole) that tore my insides out at times, but maybe later I'll unpack more of that experience here, but right now, just the basics.
Shey is one of the most amazing people I know. For sure I am biased, but she is so much tougher than me. Shey is so strong, kind, and courageous, and I couldn't have been more proud of being married to anyone in my life. And Rowan, not only is he cute, but he's got the strong spirit of his mom, and he too is a fighter and so very strong. The family has expanded to include this new little man, and I couldn't be happier than to have them both in my life!
On another completely different note: the Hayden's have also bought their first Macbook (the first we both have had together, and the first we've each had since we were kids). In fact, this is my first post from the new black macbook we bought, and so far, I couldn't be happier with our new computer. We still have some learning curves but each day gets a little easier in learning how to use our new computer. If anyone has any good tips or advice on how to get to know our macbook better, let me know!
Lastly, it is exciting to know that as little as I've posted i can still cash in on my blog and stir up some bitterness even without posting. (Glad you are back safely from Germany Seth!) I really do hope folks are well and am looking forward to getting back into the swing of posting. For the most part, I will probably keep most of the family stuff on the family blog, but I'm sure there will be some overlap, well, b/c they are my family.
So what have I missed? How are folks doing? And of course, meet Rowan:
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