He's crying again. Hard. I thought that newborn cries were supposed to be soft and cute, like little mewls. Did we just skip over that stage entirely? Where did this boy get his lungs?
I thought this over for a bit. Tried to put myself into ZJ's tiny little brain, with his gently-yet-wildly flailing limbs (with razor sharp nails) and surprisingly big, luminous eyes that at the moment were scrunched up in mid-wail. What could upset him so?
What made the most sense was that almost four weeks ago, his entire world changed.
He used to be warm, well fed, and could nap whenever he wanted while inside his mommy. Then after being violently thrust into the outside world, he had to learn to work for his food, air is super dry, clothing is itchy, and poop and pee feel really bad against the skin.
So I suppose I could understand where his tears (metaphorically, his tear ducts haven't finished developing yet) come from. His life had turned upside down.
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He's crying again. Hard. And look, now our toddler is rolling on the ground kicking his feet while screaming "No! No! No!" This is really embarrassing. And loud. It seems like any little thing not going his way can set off a tantrum. I guess this is the so-called Terrible Twos. Why do we have to deal with this right now in addition to the other one- oh great, he's woken up his little brother who is joining in the cacophony of wailing.
I thought this over for a bit. Tried to put myself in D's developing toddler brain, with his growing-yet-insufficient-to-communicate-clearly vocabulary and his surprising pot belly (based on pictures, something he inherited from me at the same age) despite not liking to eat that much. What could upset him so?
What made the most sense was that almost four weeks ago, his entire world changed.
He used to be the center of attention. Not only did he have mommy and daddy tied around his little finger (especially when he called us by name and laid his head down on our shoulder), he was lavishly doted on by grandparents and indulged by aunties and uncles. Now, mommy and daddy look tired, busy, and impatient, and Ah-ma and Ah-gong are spending some of their time holding this impostor. Simultaneously, he can't effectively tell us what he's feeling so it seems like no one understands, no one is listening.
So I suppose I could understand where his tears come from. His life had turned upside down.
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I'm tearing up. What the heck? I'm a T, not an F! I rarely, if ever, shed tears. Why am I ready to cry just because D threw his arms around me and asked for a hug, something he's done hundreds, if not thousands of times before?
Almost four weeks ago, S's contractions had just normalized and we realized that ZJ was on his way to meet us soon. We were hurriedly gathering up all our bags, cleaning up the house, packing up the car, and trying to shepherd D along to bring him to his grandparents' before we went to the hospital. I was in the midst of helping D gather up his favorite stuffed Curious George, mind whirling at the checklist of everything we needed, when I was suddenly hit like a truck with the realization that things were never going to be the same.
While D's first year of life was pretty taxing, his second year was mostly a delight as he began developing into a little person that S and I knew how to care for, play with, guide, and love. He reciprocated by letting us experience wonder through his eyes as his curiosity helped him engage the world in bigger and more complex ways.
This tidy little world of ours was going to change - it wouldn't just be the three of us anymore. And to my great surprise, I was really emotional about it. I don't know if D sensed my change in mood or read my face, but he chose that moment to throw his arms around me. It took a while to regain enough self control to finish gathering everything and getting out to the car. Unsurprisingly, S was in the middle of her own, very different turmoil.
A few hours later, our lives turned upside down again for the second time in two years.
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This has not been an easy couple of months in our community. We've seen two friends lose their mothers too early, and we grieve with them. I see the devastation and chaos at the Boston Marathon, and I am cowed at the prospect of raising a family in a world where madmen can take them away from me violently at community gatherings that are supposed to be celebrations.
The older I get, the more changes that keep happening, the more I realize that when I was young, I thought and trusted that my parents had everything under control and knew what they were doing. Now that I am one - I really don't. And maybe they didn't either. But, through hard work and some measure of grace we turned out ok.
Jesus shed tears before a huge change in his life. He didn't know if his Father had everything under control, if the plan was right. But he moved forward in faith and obedience, and laid down his life on the cross so that God's children could be reconciled to their Father.
I hope we can teach our boys to be able to be moved to tears by meaningful things, meaningful people, meaningful loss, and then to respond by laying down their lives in love and service for others.
To follow the example of the first responders who ran towards the explosions in Boston to help.
To follow the example of their grandparents, who worked so hard to build a life for their parents in a new country.
To follow the example of Jesus, who taught, healed, wept with, and suffered for others, particularly the weak and poor, and does so even today in the hearts of his people.
There is no greater love than this.
This means we have to exemplify this for them.
… I don't know how we're going to do this yet. But we'll try.
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