Of Butterflies and Such

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My dearest brand-new two-year-old,

Spring - two years ago. I hadn't really thought about the date other than how wonderful it was to be pregnant during the cold months rather than the hot ones.

Now I see how perfect the date is. Spring is the season of new life. Baby lambs romping through the fields. Trees blossoming. Daffodils bursting through. And butterflies spreading brand new wings.

The first year was a blur of changes for us. Moving from Oregon to Mozambique and starting new jobs in the first two months. And getting you properly trained as an African mama by the end of your first year.

If anything, time has gone even faster this last year. And you've grown beautifully.

You are joyful. Your smile and your exuberance make everyone around you smile. Kids are drawn to you; adults love watching you.

You are intense. You stay focused on the action. Sometimes you just watch and observe what is going on around you. You're not an actress; it's hard to get a pose out of you for the camera because you are so engaged in what you are doing or what is happening around you.

You are flexible. It takes about two minutes in a new setting for you to act right at home. Though it may take you a little longer to fall asleep due to all the excitement. You're a great traveler and not too perturbed at changes in scenery and toys and things. And this attribute is oh so helpful at this point in our lives!

You've become more cautious this past year. You're careful going up and down things; not so eager to jump in the pool or off the bed.

You've become more independent, too. "Esmé do it!" is the oft-heard refrain. And you ARE doing it, better and better all the time.

And you know all about possession. "My dolly!" "Esmé's chair!" Or sometimes it's Pappa's plate, or Mommy's shirt.

You are stubborn, too. Or perhaps determined. You can hold an argument with the best of them. You and Pappa were just debating about M and W shapes last night, and there was no way you were going to back down.

Perhaps one of your most challenging attributes right now is your impatience. You know what you want, when you want it, and you want it RIGHT NOW! I talk about going to the airport to see airplanes sometime this week, and you're headed for the door immediately. I go to the kitchen to start making lunch, and you're suddenly there on my toes, demanding to be fed right away.

My bright, growing little girl, I know God has a special purpose for you. His work isn't always immediate, though. Usually it takes time. Usually you have to wait a little while. Sometimes the waiting is painful. And the results aren't always what you expect.

This season of birthdays, this season of spring, I want you to remember this: "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls a butterfly." (Richard Bach)
You are a challenge, and you are a joy. It is such a privilege to watch you grow and flutter those wings a little more every day. May you always keep looking to the future with anticipation for what the Master has in store for you.
Love,
Your mommy

Butterfly Bob

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I really need to move my scrapbooking supplies if I actually want to use them for scrapbooking. They are much too accessible to Esmé in their spot in our craft room.

But I digress. Recently Esmé was going through it all and became enamored by a butterfly sticker. I’d forgotten all about it, but it brings back some good memories.

I was being admitted for Esmé’s delivery when Butterfly Bob pitched up in my hospital room. He came with all the vampire paraphernalia of a typical phlebotomist. Friendly without being annoyingly cheerful, he went about his task of drawing my blood. As he was leaving, he handed me this beautiful sticker. On the backside was stamped, “You’ve been kissed by a butterfly.”

Don’t you love the imagery? Not stabbed by a needle, but kissed by a butterfly.

If you like making people happy in your job, phlebotomy would be one of the last occupations I’d recommend. Yet Butterfly Bob has found a way to bring smiles in what can be stressful, pain-filled situations.

In Mozambique, cash is the main method of doing business, and I require employees to turn in a LOT of petty cash reports. Every time people complain about how painful it is to create those reports and reconcile their petty cash accounts, I feel like responding, “Try my shoes on and see how painful it is to work with the sometimes illegible, poorly-detailed reports and receipts that get turned in. At least YOU were there when the money was spent and have an idea of what it was for. I have to guess half of the time.”

I wonder if there is some way I can make butterfly kisses out of petty cash reports. Hmmm . . .

No, I didn’t save the sticker for scrapbooking. It was meant to be enjoyed. And I’ve got my memories, not just of that hospital event, but also of Esmé smiling with her butterfly.

Nine Months with The Incredibles

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I’m far more likely to have a supervillain name than a superhero one. It would be something along the lines of "Guilt Complex Queen." I have an overdeveloped guilt complex. You name it, it’s my fault.

• Baby’s diaper is wet? My bad.
• Husband comes down with the flu? I haven’t been feeding him enough orange and green veggies.
• Our Mozambique building project is out of cash? Guilty, your honor. I haven’t reconciled petty cash yet.
• People feel unloved and alone in the world? Guilty again. I love you all, but I have 400 emails and 89 blog comments I haven’t responded to, and I haven’t sent out Christmas cards in two years.
• Government’s budget doesn’t balance? Oops! I haven’t filed our 2007 taxes yet.
• World hunger still exists? I forgot to leave change in my car for beggars. Plus I left the beans out overnight and they spoiled, so I had to throw them away. Think how many people could have been fed.
• Global warming? I drive with the air conditioner on.
• People killing people for political reasons in Zimbabwe? I haven’t figured out the connection yet, but I’m sure it’s my fault somehow.

If it weren’t for God’s Magic Eraser, I don’t think I could live with myself.
But every time I look at baby Esmé, I am reminded that I WAS Wonder Woman. For nine months. Two years ago, my body did this amazing thing. A baby was conceived, and my body became its incubator.
It provided the right amount of padding, fluid, and nutrients. Even when all I could eat during the morning sickness phase were frozen macaroni and cheese dinners, baby survived. And even though I didn’t do my Kegels and never once got through the prenatal exercise DVDs I bought, baby thrived. When I ate doughnuts the morning of my glucose tolerance test and got a false positive, baby did a sugar dance and moved on.
And when D-Day arrived, my body performed exactly as designed. Six and a half pain-filled hours after membrane rupture, little miss Esmé worked her way through into the birthing tub and took her first breath. No pills, no drugs, no interventions, just my body and hers working in harmony. She was PERFECT. All 7 lb, 7 oz, 20 inches of her.
Every woman has her own Wonder Woman story. Esmé is mine.
I am Woman; hear me ROAR!

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This post has been entered into Scribbit's Write Away contest.

Hola from Mozambique!

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I am FOUR months old today, and I think it's about time to get started blogging. Mommy will have to help me type, of course - I can hit the mouse pretty good (especially when Mommy's reading the online books too slow and I want to move to the next page), but my spelling is not so good yet.

So, where do I start? Well, who am I? We sing in the mirror every morning: "Who am I? I am Esme'. I am special to Jesus." I really like mirrors - sometimes they make me giggle. And then Mommy and Daddy giggle, too. Today Mommy and I had several giggle sessions; they were so much fun Mommy is going to add them to my daily checklist. We'll have to talk about the daily checklist later.

But I digress. Back to who I am. I was born April 3, 2007 at 1:06 a.m. in Roseburg, Oregon, and I weighed 7 lb 7 oz. My parents' names are Mommy and Daddy, and they are the BEST parents in the WORLD. (I have to say that, since I would have a hard time making a living right now if I got kicked out of the house.) They are also VERY OLD. Daddy just turned 38!

Just before I turned 6 weeks old, we got on a plane and started flying to South Africa. It was a LONG trip, but I did really well, and only one plane was delayed while Mommy changed my VERY POOPY diaper. She calls me a world class traveler.

After spending a few days with Daddy's family there, we flew to Maputo in Mozambique, where we live now. We are working with Maranatha on building 1,000 churches here, and I am the youngest worker. If you want to keep tabs on this project, check out Auntie Susan's blog.
And now, a lifetime later, I am much bigger. Last week at 16 weeks, I weighed 16 lb 12 oz (7.6 kg).

Well, I have lots more to say, but it is past my bedtime now, so check in again later!