“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” – Roy T. Bennet

Posts tagged ‘family’

Two Days in the Life of Zeke

These last two days I have been taking Ezekiel to try out new things and documenting it. He won’t ever remember, but he enjoyed them all just the same.

Day 1:

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To start things off, we went to Barnes & Noble. We walked the two miles to get there in the somewhat cooler morning before the heat hit us. His favourite thing to carry around with him is his hairbrush, which may seem rather odd, but when a baby is teething they will chew on anything.

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The wall in Barnes & Noble has a little mural on it. He kept trying to pick off the little black painted spots, confused as to why they wouldn’t come off in his hand. I attempted to read a book to him but since he wouldn’t stop trying to eat it, I gave up and put it back before I was forced to purchase it.

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We walked the two miles back home and rang up his grandma to see if she desired a hike. Off to the Forest Park trails we went, right at the hottest time of day. I lathered Ezekiel in sunscreen since he is an extremely ivory child.

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He didn’t (and doesn’t) understand the idea of a selfie, hence the look of confusion on his face. Also, it turned out that during the two-hour trek up and down and up and down the mountains, he had been carrying a load the entire time. Perhaps that is what this look is about, him having an uncomfortable warmth in his pants while he was already uncomfortably warm in the sun. The last mile was somewhat of a jog, and then I eventually had to bare all to potential hikers when he decided he was too hungry to wait until the end. Have you ever tried a brisk, midday hike with a baby latched to your chest? I have now.

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He seemed a little tired and frazzled when we went to a goodbye party for a friend. This is his grandpa (and my dad). Ezekiel found a piece of onion on the ground and did not enjoy it as much as he thought he might. To end the first day of documentation, I had to work at an obscurely late hour and came home to my baby fast asleep in his crib. His dad did well.

Day 2:

Since we had journeyed nearly eight miles the day before, we decided (I decided) to continue on our streak of keeping away from the apartment as long as possible.

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We went to KidTime, a hands-on children’s museum half a mile from where we live. Although Ezekiel is little, he enjoyed climbing up every stair and incline he could find. Someday, he will be an ultrarunner. I know it.

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(Cue the blurry photo of an active child.)

He kept trying to carry on a conversation with the other baby in the mirror. Right now he also likes to grab hands, and was slightly frustrated when he couldn’t hold hands with the baby. We spent an hour at the children’s museum and then joined a group run for a six-mile jaunt on the greenway.

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After the run, I still didn’t feel like heading home, so we took a detour to the library. Ezekiel was stealing toys from the other kids and attempting to eat books, so we didn’t meander there too long. I began to feel a little peckish, so I grabbed a sandwich while Ezekiel nursed. He wore himself out with all his thieving.

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(A baby with his bounty.)

Finally, as the heat steadily rose, we made our way back home. He is, at the moment, appreciating the luxury of a good, long nap after a nice, cool bath. On a side note, tomorrow I am running approximately twenty miles out of pure enjoyment. I hope I don’t get lost.

That Broken Harmony

People.
Have you ever noticed how different we all are? Even people that are similar have differences. We dress different, give our bodies our own flair. Celebrities try to be each other, we try to be them, and yet we cannot. Do you know why? Because we can never be the same as someone else. We are not clones cut from the same mold or the same exact ingredients. Even children are different from those who made them. There are changes in personality, changes in the way they walk, differences in what they prefer to eat. Twins, the people who are the closest to each other, are different. None of us is like another.

Still we try.
We shape our bodies and our faces to be like people we know. Mass groups are changing themselves, compromising their images to be false. Why do we do it? What have we to gain? We have so much to gain from being unique. From each person we can learn. We all have thoughts and words ready to break forth out of our lips. Our ways are our signatures, the signatures that we leave behind when we walk out of a building. They leave people wondering, wanting to know more about us. Our differences hold the interest of those we meet. They are what make friends and enemies and rumors and job offers. Without these, life is lifeless, colorless.

Can you see the sparks?
Leaping off our faces and out our eyes, surrounding our sighs with light and laughter.  Those are our desires and feelings. Those are me, drinking  my coffee without any sugar. Those are you, drinking your coffee with several spoonfuls. Those are the world, preferring one movie over another, one fabric over another, one topping over another.  Those are also the pain that each of us feels. The reason a father hurts his family and the reason a friend betrays a brother.

Without.
Without.  We are purposeless, gray matter amidst rainbows. Nothing we do can change that we are not alike. Hello, you. It’s me, a person. I am not you. You are not me. Now let us be friends in that broken harmony. 

I Can’t

My little brother Silas is spoiled. We realized a little late that it’s not always good to give a crying kid what he wants.

So now, if he doesn’t get his way, he’ll scream and throw himself on the floor, or he’ll deny himself things, thinking that, if he can’t have his own way, then everyone will sympathize and give in.

Of course, he has his moments. Sometimes, he’ll come up to me, grab my arm, and start kissing it like a crazy person.

But, he still has issues. When it comes to brushing his own teeth, he starts screaming and yelling, “I can’t, I can’t!”

He can, obviously. He’s seven years old. He can brush his teeth.

(This is going to turn into some random life metaphor, I know it.)

Another thing, when we mentioned making him go without snacks for a week, once again, he started screaming, “I can’t, I can’t!”

These words cross my mind many times, are you kidding me?

I really don’t know where I’m going with all this, but, needless to say,

My first child better be a girl.

The Paradox of our Times in History

Don’t think for a moment that I wrote this, because I didn’t, and I couldn’t. Some Reverend Moorehead did.

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers;
wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints;
we spend more, but have less;
we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
we have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgment;
more experts, but less solutions;
more medicine, but less health.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom and hate too often.
We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life;
we’ve added years to life, not life to years.

We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet our neighbor.
We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space;
we’ve done larger things, but not better things;
we’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes, but lower morale;
we’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the times of tall me, and short character;
steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the times of world peace, but domestic violence;
more leisure, but less fun;
more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are the days of two incomes, but more divorce;
of fancier houses, but broken homes.
It is a time when there is so much in the showroom window
and nothing in the stockroom.

 

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