All posts by Jeff

So virtually every day Dutch says something new that makes my jaw drop and want to run to the computer and share with the world.  So, to prevent this blog from turning into a nauseating relay of cutesy toddler stories, I’m creating a page called “A Day in the Life”, where I’ll just post fun Dutch-isms, stories, basically stuff that grandparents like but that many of you probably don’t care about.  To alert those of you who care I’ll just add a quick heads up to my normal post, K?  Ok but until then, one last quick story.

So I hope you’re not squeamish and it’s a little embarrassing to share, but I developed this odd random cyst on my face almost 3 years ago when I was pregnant with Dutch. It started really small but has grown significantly in the last year (gotta love pregnancy, ugh), and now it’s big. Really big.  And I hate it.  Thankfully the doctors finally think it’s weird enough that they’re removing it soon (yay!), but until then I have this really bizarre bump on my cheek and I know I’m vain and it shouldn’t matter, but who wants to have a weird thing growing off their face?

Anyway, I pretend like it’s not there but tonight as I was snuggling Dutch into bed, we laid there with our faces close together, and I was kissing his cheeks.  He then stopped, looked, reach up and poked at it.  “What’s that?!” He asks.  Jeff’s eyes widen (I think he thought I would burst into tears).  I smiled. “That’s mommy’s owie,” I respond. He thinks for a second, then leans up carefully and plants a soft, wet kiss right on the spot.  “All gone!” he happily exclaims.

Oh my sweet boy. Yes.  In your world owies are kissed away. “All gone!”  I love your childlike faith and joy, simplicity and exurberance.  You are a challenge, yes, but your smile and kiss make all life’s troubles all gone.  Thank you, son.

I find myself returning often to John Piper’s thoughts on Enjoyment and Idolatry.  The one that’s haunted me lately is #2:

Enjoyment is becoming idolatrous when it is disproportionate to the worth of what is desired. Great desire for non-great things is a sign that we are beginning to make those things idols.

If we all came equipped with desire-o-meters or emotion-o-meters, this would be an interesting study.  Often I am challenged by the realization that I often desire/enjoy/care for things in a pretty ridiculous proportion to their relative worth.  Or, conversely, I’m challenged when I realize how often I can be deflated/discouraged/downcast over things of relatively small value. In fact, sometimes I have to stop myself in the middle of the day and do a little self-test: “Kari, why are you frustrated or discouraged?  Oh, you think your house might not sell and you will therefore be unable to move into the new house that’s being built.  Hm.  Ok. If that happens will God still be good? Yes.  Ok. If that happens will you still have a place to live (i.e. not be homeless)? Yes. Ok.  If that happens will you still be able to flourish and serve God and raise your children, even if you had to live in an apartment for the rest of your days (oh the horror!)? Yes. Ok, then I think this is a disproportionate amount of care.”  Maybe that sounds strange and mechanical, but for me, it helps to self-talk myself into reality.

The little scenario I was just referring to obviously is in regard to our house. Yes, we are building a house, but to our surprise, our little rental home in Corvallis (which is now empty–long story), has not sold. And because it’s empty, we are now paying rent and a mortgage (=not fun).  And even though we are qualified to buy our home even if that Corvallis house doesn’t sell, we both feel that it would be financially irresponsible to take on two mortgages, so if it doesn’t sell we’ve decided we will just have to walk away from the new house (and the money we’ve already put down).  I can say without a shadow of a doubt that God led us to go forward with the building of this house, that’s one thing I know for sure. I also feel certain that He’s led us to sell the Corvallis house and I can even say for sure that we’ve taken some steps of obedience with regard to how that all came about (another long story).  However, as anyone who’s walked with the Lord any amount of time can tell you, just because you obey God and follow His leading doesn’t mean He’ll make it all go exactly as we want.  (Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble? Job 2:10)

A few weeks ago I was feeling stressed and discouraged about the house situation.  I wanted to be excited about the house, but couldn’t because I didn’t know for sure if it would happen.  So I felt anxious.  And Jeff was so good, so matter-of-fact. He simply said, “What’s the worst that can happen?  If our house doesn’t sell, we don’t get to follow through with this new house, and we lose a pretty significant amount of money. Yes, that would be painful. But it would not be the end.  We’d still have an apartment. We’d still have a job.  We’d still have eachother.  It wouldn’t be the end.”  And he was so right.  I was giving a disproportionate amount of care to this concern.  While I was spending all my prayer time talking to God about real estate, there were prayer requests on our church’s prayer chain, truly dire situations, that received no more than a cursory flare prayer up to the Lord of Hosts. Forgive me, God.  Disproportionate care.

I know nothing I’m saying is new.  We all battle it.  I spend more time praying about non-eternal things than eternal things.  Ouch.  More time praying about unsold property than unsaved family members. Ouch. And please hear me, I’m not saying that we should’nt pray about our daily needs, that we shouldn’t rejoice over little kisses from God like toilet paper on sale at Safeway (that was tonight) or a perfectly timed coincidence today that made me able to visit my friend’s new baby right after her birth. Those “little” things are big because they are from God.  But when we have “great desire for non-great things” we’ve allowed disproportionate care to creep in and steal our joy.

On the continuum of victory in this area I’m somewhere in the middle (aren’t we all).  The praise is that I can honestly say I absolutely love our little apartment, I’m happy as a clam here, and if God decides to withhold our new home from us, He will still be good and I will still be happy.  And since it is His money, He can decide who keeps it anyway.  There are some God-things about the house that I would be sad not to see come to fruition (more on that later–amazing brand-new Christian I met at church is building the house across the street!), I think God certainly thinks up the coolest stories, so I’ll let Him write it as He pleases.

The prayer is that I still allow disproportionate care into my heart on a pretty regular basis.  A grand family-picnic I planned for tonight didn’t quite pan out, and instead of shaking it off I found myself frustrated and irritated.  Why? It’s such a small thing.  Disproportionate care.  Lord help us desire and care for things only in proportion to their true worth–the worth You assign to them.  Protect us from disproportionate care, and help our joy to be found in that which can never be taken away.

Six years ago today I walked down my parents driveway and took my place beside my best friend … and I’ve been there every since.  Six years ago we kissed for the first time, beneath the scorching sun, pledging our vows to love each other above all others for as long as we both shall live.  I’m so glad I did.

Today we went and visited that same spot, otherwise known as my parents’ house.  It might seem odd to spend one’s anniversary at your parents house, but when you have a toddler and a nursing baby, this is perfect–babysitter, crib, and endless children entertainment all wrapped up on one.  Though we didn’t go out for an expensive dinner, take a grand excursion to some exotic locale, or splurge on diamonds or pearls, we did what we enjoy best–spend time together.  It reminded me of this thought on love, taken from that article I posted recently on a father’s love for his son with down syndrome:

I am writing of love not as a matter of grand passions … I am writing about love as the stuff that makes the processes of human life happen: the love that moves the sun and other stars, which is also the love that makes the toast and other snacks. Love is the most humdrum thing in life, the only thing that matters, the thing that is forever beyond the reach of human imagination.

Love that makes the toast.  Yes.  I also indulged this weekend and read a novel, just for fun, from one of my favorite series, The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith.  In it the main character, Mma Ramotswe, says “there is plenty of work for love to do.”  Yes. There is. There is always plenty of work for love to do.  These are the things that love does (a few I borrowed from a reliable source 🙂 ):

1. Love gets up in the middle of the night and sleeps with toddler when he gets scared (last night).  (I didn’t even know until I found our quilt on Dutch’s bed this morning.)

2. Love volunteers to change diapers.

3. Love is patient. (1 Cor. 13:4)

4. Love makes special playlists on the ipod so I can listen to my favorite songs when I run.

5. Love boils water for my tea before I get up.

6. Love is kind. (1 Cor. 13:4)

7. Love takes no offense, believes the best.

8. Love takes you to Old Navy for $5 t-shirts and doesn’t even balk when you buy two of the same color.

9. Love holds Heidi after an early-morning feeding so I can sleep in.

10. Love was faithful to only use flattering pictures of his wifey, when he used our wedding as a sermon illustration this morning. 🙂

11. Love plays scrabble in bed at night.

12. Love wears his shoes until he has holes in the soles (true!), but lets his wifey get the sequined flip flops.

13. Love works hard to devote himself to pastoring without neglecting his family.

14. Love always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perseveres (1 Cor. 13:7)

15. Love shares his thoughts, ideas, hopes, fears, dreams, without reservation.

16. Love prays.

17. Love fiercely guards his purity.

18. Love speaks softly, calmly, gently.

19. Love takes out the garbage and cleans that gross area at the base of the toilet.

19 1/2.  Love calmly takes over and saves the day when I thought this post got deleted and was ranting and raving and frustrated (when really I just posted it to the wrong spot).

20. Love never fails. (1 Cor. 13:8)

I’m thankful today for the things that love does.  Happy Anniversary, hon.  I love you.

I love where I live.  Today I got up and the morning was refreshingly cool after yesterday’s heat.  All the windows were open, and I pulled on a sweatshirt, boiled water, then sat in my favorite chair with my steaming hot tea, the morning sun streaming over my back through the window onto the open Bible on my lap.  I closed my eyes and had a truly perfect moment, and all I could think was, “Oh I love Oregon!”  Don’t get me wrong, other states are perfect for other people, and I’m not trying to be a state-snob.  I have family in New York, Utah, Arizona, and California, and they each love love love their own states and each one is perfect for them. But for me, oh for me Oregon is amazing.  Today we also drove halfway across the state to Bend for a short weekend visit.  Every time we make the drive, I am amazed again at the beauty. And because I’ve never taken the time to sing the praise of our state, I thought I would today.  God certainly was perfectly genius in all His creation, but I happen to think He was exceptionally praiseworthy in His crafting of this little square of green.  Why not give thanks for the ways we love where God has placed us?!

Why I love it where I live.

1. Snow is a novelty.  Everything shuts down and we have an excuse to rest and play.

2. I actually like rain. I know, weird–I was made to live here.

3. Green! Green and green and green and green. Every time I drive through our town and see the tree-lined streets and rolling green hills I can’t help but thank God.

4. Fresh air!  You don’t notice it until you don’t have it.

5. Mountains and ocean all wrapped up in one day’s drive.  What a great idea, God!

6. Seasons.  Just when I start to get tired of a season we get to move to the next one! Nothing like putting on jeans and a sweater around the end of September.

7. Portland.

8. PERFECT water. I will admit I am a water-snob.  I adore Oregon water.

To be fair, there are downfalls. We don’t have In-N-Out Burger, HOV lanes, or H&M.  With the addition of these, it’d be perfection.  Until then, I’ll take it as is and thank God for His beautiful handiwork in all of creation … and especially here.

Why do you love where you live?  List 8 things you love about your location…I’d love to hear!

Nothing earth-shattering here but just had to take a second to praise God for little things like soap and silverware.  Last Friday night we had a group of friends over from church. It was my first time hosting a group in our little “making do” apartment here, and it definitely took some creativity.   Thankfully a friend let me borrow a frying pan, so I had a frying pan and a saucepan.  We didn’t have enough glasses so a few people used mugs and water botttles, and the 8th plastic flork shattered while trying to shred the chicken, so were one utensil short.  Half of us got real plates and half used paper, and since I don’t have a cutting board I used Dutch’s placemat (which is now ruined), to chop everything for the salsa.  All in all it was a blast, and I couldn’t imagine a more easy-to-please group of people (See Rend the Heavens, right).  It was great.

And here’s an example of how God takes care of the details–I got the plastic fork prong, thank goodness. When it shattered, I had to pick the pieces of plastic fork out of the chicken. Well, I thought I got all four prongs.  Apparently I only got three.  Because while I was digging into my chicken lime soft taco all of a sudden–ouch!–I knew immediately what it was and tried to covertly fish it out of my mouth. Woops.  Thankfully no one else got plastic fork prong in their taco and everyone left with full bellies and happy hearts.  But I think to myself, “Hm, plastic forks are not that fun.”

So Sunday, Jeff and I rolled up our sleeves and thought we’d at least try to unearth some of our kitchen boxes.  I didn’t have much hope, as things are stacked ceiling high in the back of my dad’s shop, and each box has several labels on it, crossed out and labeled again because of so many moves. But guess what we found?  Silverware! AND, pots and pans. Not only do I now have my own pot, I have TWO frying pans, TWO sauce pans, and a great big spaghetti pot. Oh yeah.  This morning I ate cereal with a REAL spoon–oh glorious day!  We even have oven mitts. I know.  Lifestyles of the rich and famous.

Other little things that I’m so thankful for: soap.  Ok this is weird I know but I refuse to buy soap, like the kind you use in the shower.  It seems like we always get yummy kinds of soap or shower gel and so forth for birthdays and Christmas, so I just insist on using it up and never buying any.  Well we ran out, and our stash of gift soaps was in storage.  So Jeff had to use the cherry blossom shower gel I got for my birthday. 🙂  Well guess what else we found in a box? Soap! Yup!

I also wanted to start potty training Dutch, but the little boy potty seat we’d bought on sale was…yes, in storage. Did we find it, oh yes we did!

I’m sure this seems totally ridculous to many, but I’m so thankful for how God led us to just the right boxes. We only opened three boxes, and there are dozens and dozens that were inaccessible. But just the right ones were there, and now we’re set for the summer.  This reminds me of a story I know, about sparrows and God’s perfect provision (Matt 6).  God can situate the boxes just right so we can find what we need.  So today I’m thankful for little things, like soap and silverware.

I know I posted this link yesterday, but I wanted to post it again just in case some of you didn’t actually click and read it: 🙂  HERE. I wanted to post it again, today, on Father’s Day, because I love the author’s perspective on love, and specifically on being a father to a special need’s child.  This paragraph stood out to me:

We can imagine dramas and turmoil. People make films about them. In our own minds, we often put together the most terrific stories about thrilling or devastating events that might befall us. But what no one can imagine is the day-to-day process of living with things and getting on with the humdrum job of loving. We can imagine only the beautiful and the terrible. We are drama queens, and our imaginations are incapable of giving us any help about coping from day to day. Marriage is not the same as falling in love; nor is it an endless succession of terrible rows and monumental reconciliations: it is about a million small things: things beyond our imagining.

The human imagination can do many extraordinary things. But we can’t imagine love. Or perhaps I mean loving: love as a continuous state; one that carries on in much the same way from day to day, changing and growing with time just as people do. The great stories of literature are about meeting and falling in love, about infidelity, about passion. They are seldom about the routines of married life and having children.

So forgive the Sacredness of the Mundane enthusiast in me, but this is so true.  What I love about this article is this author’s perspective: His entire point is that he wants no sainthood, no applause, no canonization for what he views as a simply loving his son.  What’s so heroic about that?  I’m not a hero, he would say, just a Dad.

My own dad is the same way.  I am Bill Zyp’s daughter and there isn’t a man on earth I would rather have for a dad.  He, like the author of that article, seeks no applause or great recognition for simply doing what is natural for him–loving his family, loving his friends, giving of his time, resources, energy, for those around him.

I’ve never met a more giving man than my dad.  Truly open-handed with his finances, I was raised knowing that giving to the church and those in need was just what you did.  We had. We gave.

And he gave to me. Countless hours shooting free-throws, working on my left-handed lay-ups, doing ball-handling drills.  He loved me enough to teach me about working hard, letting me help him build decks and install pools (for slave wages!).  He taught me that being a woman doesn’t mean I can’t get dirty or carry heavy things.  Into my mid-20s I still would work with him occasionally, pulling my hair in a pony tail and trudging around in the mud installing a pool deck.  Sometimes we’d even get a lunch break…for 5 minutes.

He gave me his protection.  He let his intimidating presence be known to many a young man, keeping a number of would-be suiters at arm’s length. He loved me enough to scare many away. And in time, when Jeff came along, he loved me enough to give me away without reservation.

And he continues to give. Not only to Jeff and me, but to Dutch and Heidi.  A better grandfather I could never imagine.  He, as we all know, is Dutch’s favorite.  Papa is his hero.  Who else will spend countless hours on the floor playing trucks, giving rides in the old army jeep, digging around in the sand outside loading and unloading dump trucks?  Who else will read books until his voice is gone, sacrifice sleep by staying in Dutch’s room at night, share a glass of water with our 2 1/2 year old back-wash king?  Only Papa.  Who else will spend hours searching Craigslist for cheap deals on toy dump trucks and backhoes?  Who else will sit in our apartment and watch cars and trucks go by for hours, answering the continual stream of questions, “Oh what’s that truck?! Oh what’s that truck?!” Papa.

But, just as the author of that article, my dad would insist he’s nothing special.  He just thinks he does what any dad or Papa would do. He doesn’t understand that he is remarkable beyond words.  I say he is a hero in the truest sense.  I’m not a hero, he would say, just a Dad.

Today, while reflecting on John Piper’s words on enjoyment and idolatry (from yesterday’s post), I read the sickening and saddening article in the Oregonian on Deborah and Ariel Levy.  While I’d love to take time to comment on all of Piper’s points, I’d like to focus on #5:

Enjoyment is becoming idolatrous when it is starting to feel like a right, and our delight is becoming a demand. It may be that the delight is right. It may be that another person ought to give you this delight. It may be right to tell them this. But when all this rises to the level of angry demands, idolatry is rising.

Essentially, enjoyment is becoming idolatrous when it leads to entitlement.

So as you know Jeff and I are in the process of building a house, and trying to sell our small rental home in Corvallis.  While we’re still approved for our loan without our house selling, it would be financially irresponsible (in my opinion)  to go ahead with the house purchase if we still have a mortgage payment for our Corvallis house (which is vacant).  This past week, I began to feel anxious. Everyone asks if we’re so excited about our new house (which now has a roof!), and I suppose I am but more than anything I just felt anxous that our house hadn’t sold.  It was then I realized that my enjoyment of the prospect of a house had led to entitlement, “What if we don’t get this house? We’re supposed to have it!”

Secondly, while we were out running one day we walked through the new house and found that they’d framed it wrong, leaving out one bedroom and instead making it an open loft area.  Since that room is supposed to be our guest room, our space for grandparents and friends, etc. we made sure to let the builder know that it was wrong. They assured us it would be corrected.  When we checked back today it hadn’t been fixed, even though the roof was now on.  I told Jeff that if they didn’t correct it we’d need to make sure we insisted they give us our money back.  Hear it?  Entitlement.  If they don’t do it like I want they better make it right because I am entitled to have the enjoyment that I deserve.

When we got home from our run, Jeff sent me an article from the Oregonian (Read in full here).  Here’s the gist of it, suing for “wrongful life”:

In the months before their daughter was born in 2007, Deborah and Ariel Levy worried the baby might have Down syndrome. They say a doctor at the Legacy Center for Maternal-Fetal Medicine assured them that a sample of tissue taken from the placenta early in the pregnancy ruled out the developmental disability, despite the results of later testing that showed the fetus might have it. But within days of the birth of their daughter, the Southwest Portland couple learned the baby did have Down syndrome. Had they known, they say, they would have terminated the pregnancy. Now they’re suing in Multnomah County Circuit Court, seeking more than $14 million to cover the costs of raising her and providing education, medical care, and speech and physical therapy for their daughter, who turned 2 this month. The suit also seeks money to cover her life-long living expenses … In addition to seeking money for the child’s future care, the couple ask compensation for the depression and emotional distress Deborah Levy has suffered and for her inability to go back to work as a dental hygienist. Ariel Levy, a civil engineer, also seeks compensation for the effect his daughter has had on his relationship with his wife.”

Does anyone else want to throw up right now?  I read this article as I held my own precious Heidi in my arms, smelling her sweet baby neck, kissing her round cheeks moist with milk.  Of course the Christian community is up in arms that such a sick lawsuit would even be taking place.  But you know what I realized as I reflected on this sad case? We are all guilty.

This case is simply the natural progression, the natural result of a society that is infested with a sense of entitlement.  First, the guy at Burger King forgets to hold the onions on your Whopper.  You march back in and demand they make it right.  Well, of course you do, I mean you paid to have it your way, right?  I mean that’s their slogan.  So then while you’re building a house they mess up the framing and you get three bedrooms instead of four.  Well then stomp in there and demand that they fix it (I’m not saying you shouldn’t kindly alert them…please hear me here. There is a heart issue at stake here).  You demand your money back.

The Levy’s sad case is entitlement to the extreme. Yes, there are sanctity of life issues here, but I believe entitlement is the underlying theme even to the issue of who controls the giving and taking of life.  Deborah and Ariel Levy demand money for their “emotional distress” because they were unable to kill their unborn daughter.  Their sin is more extreme. But at the root, it is my sin as well.  It is the sin of idolatry.  Idolatry of one’s own happiness and comfort.

After asking God for forgiveness for my own sickening sense of entitlement and idolatry, another friend sent me a link to this story–a refreshing contrast to the Levy Down Syndrome story (Read in full here).  This father, who also has a child with Down Syndrome, insists he is no saint.  He simply loves his son. Do you see the difference?  One humbly receives a gift with joy and gratitude, insisting he is no hero.  The other receives a gift of life and shakes their fists at doctors, demanding compensation for their “heroism” in raising a handicapped child. He’s unknowingly obeying Jesus’ words in Luke 17:10, “¹⁰ So likewise you, when you have done all those things which you are commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done what was our duty to do.’” Receive with thankful hearts.  Give without applause.

Oh Jesus forgive us!  Forgive the Levy’s and draw them to yourself.  Forgive us for how we’ve allowed our enjoyment to lead to entitlement and idolatry.  Help us to simply receive from your hand that which You’ve deemed good.  Sort out all the “mistakes” that aren’t really mistakes and help us to glorify You in word and deed.  May our enjoyment be in You. Forever. Amen.

Thirty-One years ago today, the love of my life was born into this world.  The two greatest things in my life, of which I am least deserving are these:  First, to be born again into the family of God, chosen, redeemed, forgiven, and set apart. Second, to be loved by such a man.  I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would ever be loved in such a sacrificial, selfless, wholly devoted manner.  I’m so thankful to be married to Jeffrey Scott Patterson.  Here are a few reasons:

1. He is truly selfless, more selfless than any person I’ve ever met.

2. He is genuine in everything that he does.

3. No menial or humble task is beneath him.

4. He genuinely loves people for their sake, regardless of their status, without thought of his own gain.

5. He’ll eat anything, wear anything, live anywhere, do anything, and be perfectly and absolutely content.  He is the easiest person to please on earth.

6.  He devours God’s word like nothing I’ve ever seen.

7. He’s obsessed with truth, the gospel, Christ.  Obsessed.

8. He never gets offended.

9. He never loses patience with me when I get offended (or am grumpy or moody or angry or frustrated!).

10. He loves and honors his parents and mine.

11. He’s willing to take his week of vacation and spend it on a family road trip with my parents and brother’s family, riding in the backseat of his own car for 800 miles between two small children while his father-in-law drives. (I know, this one takes the cake!)

12. He never worries about money.

13. He prays.

14. He’s never spoken a harsh word to me. Never.

15. He feels deeply and is grieved by sin.

16. He never demands his own way.

17. He plays with Dutch, gives him baths, puts him to bed. He makes oatmeal every morning and boils the water for my tea.

18. He is open-handed and generous with money. (way more than me!)

19. He works hard at his job–and always has, even in the past when he hasn’t liked his jobs.

20. He brags about others’ accomplishments, like my brother’s, without feeling threatened or insecure.

21. He truly rejoices in the successes of others.

22. He’s not materialistic.

23. He changes diapers. He actually volunteers to change diapers.

24. He’s humble.

25. He loves to read.

26. He keeps our family a priority.

27. He sat through the five hours of Pride & Prejudice movie, and actually loved it.  That’s a man!

28. He waited to kiss me until our wedding day.  He’s made up for lost time every since. 🙂

29. He reads my blog.

30. He cheers me on,  promotes me, and empowers me like no one else.

31. He is a godly man, worthy of my love and respect.  I’m so thankful to be Mrs. Jeffrey Patterson.

Happy Birthday, hon.  I love you.

Indulge this mama while she shares this precious moment.  Dutch is just now really beginning to talk (at least in words that we understand), so tonight, as we were tucking him in and after we prayed for him, we asked him if he wanted to pray.  He shyly said yes. This was his prayer:

“Dada God, Kant Noo.”

Translation: Father God, Thank you.

Ok, melting heart right now.  Please Lord may this be the first of many prayers, true prayers from His heart to yours.