"Cool Runnings", *OR* "Learning to Disconnect"

I never would have thought that forcing myself to disconnect and relax would be so difficult.

Yesterday was mine and Hillary's three year wedding anniversary. This day is extremely important to the two of us, but not in the standard "Everyone's anniversary is important to them" way. As many readers know, our wedding was not the first wedding for each of us. We'd each been put through the proverbial wringer when it came to past relationships, each having our previous marriages crumble around us despite our best efforts to keep them together.

Our relationship began with each of us in a place where we didn't know if we'd ever have back the lives we'd lost. Little did we know that God had even more in store for us, and what He was preparing us for was greater than anything we were leaving behind. After dating for less than a year I asked Hillary to marry me, and we tied the knot on July 18th, 2014.

It was a Friday, because every Saturday at the venue was booked solid for the entire summer. We rehearsed that morning in the summer sunshine, but then it rained for the rest of the day. The rain caused accidents on every major road leading to the venue, causing many guests (and even our cake) to arrive late.

But, like so many things in our lives, despite the apparent flaws on the surface, it was absolutely perfect. I won't go into much more about our wedding day now, since many readers have heard the story often. If you'd like the play-by-play of that amazing day, you can check out this post. 

Since our wedding, Hillary and I have made it a priority to take a week-long vacation every year, just the two of us. Our days consist of getting kids where they need to be, cooking for kids and adults, cleaning, work, exercise, and entertaining three kids with three very different sets of interests. With the break-neck pace of our life, Hillary and I will sometimes go days without ever having a conversation. The week-long excursion is necessary time to recharge and reconnect our marriage, to invest in each other so we can better invest in our family when we return home.

Last year, we broke our tradition of traveling to Key West, Florida, and traveled to Banff, a ski town in Alberta, Canada. It was a fantastic trip, and the cool weather and relaxed pace was exactly what Hillary needed, being seven months pregnant. It was such a fantastic experience that we decided to return to Banff this year.

And that's where I sit now, writing this post.

When we decided to return to Banff, we knew we wanted to do many of the things we weren't able to do last year, Hillary being pregnant. Even though yesterday was our first full day in Canada, we wanted to make the most of it. So we drove to Lake Louise, one of Canada's hidden treasures, and hiked the Plain of the Six Glaciers trail.

That's the Upper Victoria Glacier, front and center in the background. 

Fun fact: when something is very large, it destroys your ability to judge just how far away it is. And the series of glaciers in the background of the above photo is very, very large. It LOOKS like the Lower Victoria Glacier (the little snowy bottom of the big glacier) touches the back of the lack. In actuality, it's nearly a mile around the lake to the trailhead of the Plain of the Six Glaciers, and then nearly three more miles to the base of the Lower Victoria. Isn't "depth of field" interesting?

The hike was maybe the most difficult hike of my life. The trail was uphill the entire way (even to the base of the Glacier, which also doesn't look that high. Yay, perspective!) and covered with broken shale and rocks, which had eroded from the glaciers over the course of millennia of glacial ice melting and becoming the headwaters of the lake.

We also hiked over SNOW. Huge mounds of hard-packed snow, in the middle of summer. And it wasn't cold on the trail; the temperature was in the low 70's, and we worked up a healthy sweat over the miles. Still, snow found a way to survive.

Of course, I had to investigate. 

After neatly four miles of hiking, we finally arrived at the Plain of the Six Glaciers Tea House. Originally built in 1927 by the local railway company, the Tea House still operates to this day. It has no electricity and no running water. But to two extremely tired hikers, it was an oasis. Hillary ordered a bowl of hot vegetable soup and a cup of coffee, and I had tea with homemade biscuits. I probably would have preferred coffee, but how can you go to a 90-year-old tea house and not order tea?

Reading the story of the Teahouse from the upper patio. 

Once we were refreshed, we stretched out in my parachute hammock and took in the view of the glaciers. Soon after, we hiked a little further to get a better view, but we didn't go the entire way because we had to make the last shuttle bus down the overflow parking for Lake Louise. (Not pictures in any of the photos: the massive crowds of tourists that surround the lake area). 

The glaciers normally don't look so hazy; there are some brutal wildfires burning in British Columbia (one province to the west), and the smoke is blowing into Alberta. Everything smells like a campfire. 

We've had an amazing day of hiking already, and there are still many more days of vacation in Banff left. But, even though we're having a blast, we've been toying with the idea of leaving early and returning to Kentucky. This surprises even us, because we've never considered this on an anniversary trip before. We've always been happy to be back when the trip was over, yes, but never entertained the idea of actually cutting the trip short. 

But things back in Kentucky are much different now than they've been on any of our other trips. 

HOW DID SHE GET THIS BIG ALREADY!?! Someone tell me how to slow it down!! 

I didn't take this picture. It was sent to me by my mother and father, who are watching Ellie Kate while Hillary and I are out of the country. 

Mom and Dad came to Lexington to pick up the baby last Sunday, before Hillary and I had to drive to Cincinnati to stay the night to catch our early international flight Monday morning. We hugged, we kissed, and then they left with the baby. 

Hillary and I cried for ten minutes in the car and seriously considered cancelling our trip, then and there. 

We've left Faith and Zoe for three consecutive years, for a week each, as we left on our anniversary trip. It hadn't been this hard with them, because they're older and can understand that, even though we're gone, we will be back and our life will go back to normal. They're comfortable staying with various sets of relatives. And we promised we'd bring them back some souvenirs, which sweetened the deal. 

When we'd been to Canada the summer before, we hadn't even considered the possibility that it would be this difficult leaving the baby. She's so small... how can she understand that mommy and daddy will come back? What if she doesn't sleep well? What if she gets upset that we're not there? 

What if she forgets us? 

Of course, this is all nonsense. Ellie Kate remembers people she's met after much longer than a week's separation. She's sleeping pretty good (as well as can be expected, and better every night) at my parent's house. And she's generally a happy baby. 

But when you're used to kissing those squishy, little cheeks... when you're used to hearing that infectious laugh when you toss her into the air... how can you justify leaving that, for any period of time? 

I'll never understand people who are satisfied with seeing their children for one or two days every week. I'll never understand why someone would want to barter away those scant few days for extra weekend time. For Hillary and I, the struggle isn't in forcing ourselves to spend time with our kids, but forcing ourselves to spend time AWAY from our kids: to disconnect from them long enough to make sure they're not becoming the center of our universe. 

How does anyone have a child and not be forever altered? How can you simply return to the old mindset of doing everything for yourself? 

It's more difficult than some might realize, finally having a few days of "freedom" after spending so many months having to constantly look out for the interests of a helpless little person. Hillary and I, at first, were afraid we were becoming one of those couples that finds it impossible to have a life outside their children. We quickly realized this isn't the case: we still love to talk, have adventures, share our thoughts and ideas and dreams, and enjoy each other's company. But, honestly, it took us a day or so to fully take in the fact that we weren't responsible for any little people for a while. 

We haven't rescheduled our trip home. Yet. Hillary and I recognize that this time is crucial to our relationship with each other. Christ has directions for a strong marriage, and we recognize that keeping our marriage strong is at the core of keeping our family strong. And we know our baby, who may or not remember us when we get back (joking!), is in good hands with my parents. But you can bet, when the flight back to the USA boards, she and I will be first in line. 

Until then, I guess I'll keep re-watching this video. I took it the morning before my parents picked up Ellie Kate. 

Father's Day: Introspective stuff (or, "Manning Up")

I just celebrated my fourth Father's Day, and this one was the busiest yet. Actually, the last few months have been the busiest of my life, what with the birth of Elliot Katherine Smith in October of 2016. I can count on one hand the number of full nights of sleep Hillary and I have gotten in the last eight months, but it's been the most amazing eight months of my life and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

In fact, I wouldn't trade the last four years for anything, either.

Three years ago, Hillary and I were preparing for our wedding. As such, her daughters, soon to be my daughters, needed a name to call me. They'd been calling me 'Graham' for over a year, and although that had been fine when Hillary and I had been dating, it just didn't have the feeling that any of us wanted. 'Daddy' was already taken... so Faith, and by proxy, Zoe, since at that time Zoe wanted to do whatever Faith was doing, decided I would be called "Dad."

So even before Hillary and I were married, I became Dad. I officially had kids.

This was what was waiting for me when I came home from a mission trip to Guatemala that summer. Tears were shed. 

Fast forward a few years, and my life looks completely different than anything I ever planned. Hillary and I survive one miscarriage and then have Ellie Kate. She turns out to be absolutely amazing, and the cutest baby that has ever lived. Yes, I'm biased, but I am more than willing to back that statement up with independent research 

Good luck to anyone else vying for the title. This is your competition. 

I was lucky enough to spend Father's Day weekend not only with my father, but all three of my children, since other concerned parties asked to have the entire weekend free because of previously arranged engagements. More power to ME: I couldn't think of any other people I'd rather spend Father's Day weekend with.

And what commenced was a lot of swimming, playing, and all-around fun. And one big reminder that I am, without a doubt, the most blessed man on the face of the earth.

Last night, as I was feeding Ellie Kate her bedtime bottle and rocking her to sleep, I noticed a printed canvas that sat on her bookshelf. You all know the kind: there are hundred of them at Hobby Lobby, with fun and inspirational sayings printed on them. This one had been in Ellie Kate's nursery since we'd brought her home, but I don't think I'd read it until that very moment (it had been partially covered by "The Very Hungry Caterpillar"). I'm not sure when we bought this particular canvas, or if someone bought it for us, but here's what it says, in white letters on a pink field:

Read me a story 

and tuck me in tight. 

Tell me you love me 

and kiss me goodnight. 

I've shed a lot of tears over my kids already, even in the short time they've been in my life. But as I held the baby in my arms and read this, really read it, I had to bite my lip to keep the tears back as I faced a truth that I'd always known. It had been easy to ignore in the eight months since we'd brought Ellie Kate home, because of the breakneck pace that life has taken, but in that quite moment I was forced to confront it. 

I only have a short time to influence this little life before she steps into a harsh, bleak world. The world will not tell her she is loved, will not look out for her best interests, will not care whether she is happy or fed or encouraged. The world, given the chance, would chew her up and spit her out like it had millions before her. 

How long do I have? Ten years, before her friends suddenly have more influence than me? Ten years before me telling her "I love you" isn't enough for her to realize that she's beautiful, that she's amazing and special and perfect just the way she is? 

Even thinking back to the time that's already slipped away, the time I frittered away staying focused on keeping diapers clean and getting her to sleep through the night and moving her from bottles to baby food, without realizing those were moments I'd never get back... I realized I'd already lost so much time. 

And then I thought about Faith and Zoe, the older girls, and I got really horrified. 

Already, Faith is reaching the age where she'd rather spend time alone in her room with a piece of technology than with her mother and I. She's EIGHT. And if this is what she'd rather do, I have no one to blame but myself: if I want to encourage her to spend time with me now, and to foster the necessity for quality time so she'll still want me in her life when she's a teenager, I need to get off my butt and invest in her NOW. I know there are already voices from outside her, pulling her this way and that: and if you have a child around the same age and you think your kids are immune, PLEASE don't fool yourself. It starts earlier now than it did when we were kids. 

And Zoe... sweet, little Zoe... all she wants is someone to play with her. Legos. Play-Doh. Doc McStuffins. Dinosaurs. It doesn't matter to her. If you sit in her room and play with her, you're her best friend. 

How much time have I already missed with these girls? I've only been in their lives for four years, which means I'm already behind the curve. How often have they needed my time and attention, and I've simply been too hard-headed to notice and offer myself to them? It's not THEIR responsibility to seek me out for me to invest in them: It's up to ME to intentionally invest in these kids. 

Maybe I'm agonizing too much about this. After all, I don't *think* there's anything wrong with the time I spend playing video games, or watching TV, or goofing around on the Internet. I don't think too many of these opportunities have slipped through my fingers yet. But if I don't let myself become a little paranoid - if I'm not constantly on the look-out for every opportunity to make sure my kids know how loved they are - I'm going to blink, and these important moments are going to be gone. 

Ellie Kate has already moved out of the Duckling Room at daycare. Now she's a Piglet. 

Faith has seen hundred of videos on Youtube Kids, the contents of which I am completely oblivious of. 

Zoe wasn't even verbal when I met her. Now she's reading three- and four-letter words. 

The Steve Miller Band lied. Time doesn't keep 'slipping' into the future. Time screams into the future like a meteor entering the atmosphere, and only when you take a look around do you realize how much time has passed and how old you really are. 

I know one thing for certain, though: without God's help, I'm never going to be able to make the most of my time with my three girls. If I focus too hard on them, make them the center of my life instead of Him, I'll end up elevating them to a place they were never supposed to be: as the center of my life. And, while this sounds appealing while they're small and sweet and cute and cuddly, I have to remember that I'm the one they're looking up to, and what I teach them matters. If I teach them that earthly relationships are what we should strive for, that it's okay to make another person a god in your life, that's the kind of relationships they're going to look for. 

And if I'm afraid now of having my hands full when they're teenagers... I'll really have my work cut out for me if the girls make every little boy they fall in love with the centers of their universes. 

One day, the girls are going to be grown. And the things I teach them now, when they're young, are going to matter. While it's vitally important that I show them love and affection and caring that only their daddy can provide, it's even more dire that I teach them there's Someone who loves them on a level that I could never even approach. That, no matter how much someone on earth says they love them, that Another loved them so much that He sacrificed everything to be with them.

They need to learn that there is such a thing as love that can never be taken away, love that never fails, that never grows old, that always fulfills. 

There's no way to slow down the rate at which the girls are growing up. The two older ones have already been through so much in their young lives. If I want to make sure I'm not royally screwing up this Daddy business, I'm going to have to keep my head on straight and keep my eyes on Jesus. We, as parents, are the first line of defense against the forces that do, and will forever, assail our children. 

Time to man up. 

"Bun In the Oven", OR "Back-Up Plans"

So now, the world knows.

Hillary and I have known for almost two months, now. Our closest relatives and friends have known for a month, maybe longer. But, for the most part, we've managed to keep it a secret from the rest of the world until earlier this week.

In case you missed it, this was Hillary's Facebook post earlier this week.

It took some people a little longer to get it than others. But pretty much everyone realized the news. Hillary and I expecting a baby this October. 

We waiting so long to tell everyone because we wanted to make sure everything was okay. We got our first ultrasound a few weeks ago, and everything looked fine. But we wanted further testing, just to be safe. 

He/She is the little gray lump inside the dark gray lump. 

Last week we finally got back the blood tests that eased our fears. All the possible genetic abnormalities that could be detected by blood test were pretty much out of the question. Whether boy or girl, we're hopeful for a healthy baby. 

This is a triumph, for Hillary and I. For years, even before we were married, we discussed the possibility of having a child together. We decided the time was right to try, what with both of us already in our thirties. And, last March, signs began to point to the truth that God had blessed us. 

It was the best possible news. But it was bittersweet, because this wasn't the first time we'd gotten our hopes up. 

Last September, Hillary and I also though we'd succeeded in getting pregnant. Like this time, all the signed pointed toward the blessing we thought we were ready for. 

A few weeks passed. The date of Hillary's first ultrasound approached. She wanted me to go with her, because she was nervous. She said that she felt uneasy, nervous; like something wasn't right. I chocked it up to the nerves of a newly pregnant woman.  

I should have listened. 

There was simply nothing there. No baby. We didn't have a viable pregnancy, after all. 

(If this comes as a shock, it should. Hillary and I didn't tell very many people about it. In fact, only a select few of our closest friends and relatives even knew we were pregnant in September/October.)

The timing for a baby would have been perfect. Hillary would have been due at the first of June. I wouldn't have had to spend any sick days to spend all the time I wanted at home with her and the baby. Our baby would have been born within a month of my cousin, Cory Rayborn, and his wife Lindsay's daughter. The two would have been able to grow up together, nearly the same age. Hillary wouldn't have to spend her summer pregnant. 

Everything was perfect. All was as it should have been. 

Except that it was not meant to be. 

The following weeks and months were a roller coaster of emotions for the two of us. They were met with lots of questioning, anger, and confusion. God knew our situation. He knew our lives. He knew our willingness to have a child, to lace our family together. Why would he do this? And why, in this way? Was God cruel enough to dangle what we desired in front of us, only to pull it from our grasp like some cosmic game of keep-away?  

The months of questioning stretched into 2016. 

As soon as Hillary and I were able, we started trying again. Hillary went to her doctor often, to see what more we could do to increase our chances.  All the while, we wondered why it simply hadn't "taken" the first time. 

One night in January, Hillary and I had to drive separately to a church function. I'm not sure what it was, or why we had to drive our own vehicles. What I do remember is how hard our seemingly fruitless attempt to conceive again was weighing on her. And as I drove home that night, I thought about my wife, and what she'd personally been through over the last few months. And I said a desperate prayer, aloud, as I drove on the Bluegrass Parkway back to our house. 

God, if Hillary and I are meant to have a child together, let us have that child soon. If we aren't, then ease mine - and especially my wife's - hearts about the subject, and instead show us how to focus our energies on you and how much you've already given us. 

I wish I could say that it only took me saying the prayer once to believe that God heard it, but I must have repeated the prayer three or four times before I got home. I told Hillary about it, because I believe there is not only power in prayer, but power in prayer shared with others. 

A few weeks later, while the two of us were volunteering at our church's Wednesday night youth Bible study, the topic was raised of the annual Guys/Girls Retreat. Sarah Bailie, the youth minister, announced the dates of the trip, and asked for adult volunteers to serve as chaperones. 

The Guys/Girls retreat is one of mine and Hillary's favorite retreats. We had never missed it. But the dates fell upon the weekend in March in which Hillary had calculated as our prime conception time. If we missed those dates, we'd have to wait until April to try again. 

At this time, it was late January. We'd already missed our opportunity for the month. February was coming up. And if nothing happened in February, waiting until April to try again felt out of the question. 

We hem-hawed around the topic. I prayed about it, unsure of what I'd hear. Yes, youth retreats are extremely important in the spiritual development of the youth of our church, and could impact a student's life in ways I can't understand. But was there anything wrong with missing it just this once, to try for what our hearts had desired for so long (and had already been denied once)? 

The response to the prayer was pretty immediate. 

For some context, God did not grant me with an abundance of discernment. In fact, when it comes down to it, my skill at discerning the will of The Spirit is downright anemic. So when God spoke, he must have known that a nearly-audible voice was what I need. 

Believe I AM capable of this. 

Of course, this was ridiculous. I believed God was capable of helping Hillary and I conceive again. 

But did I believe He would come through? 

Faith is a weird thing. The Bible continually says that not only is Faith believing that God has the power to do what He says He'll do, but living our lives as though He WILL do the things He says He'll do.  Jesus himself said that, even with a tiny speck of faith, we can tell a mountain to throw itself into the sea, and it'll be done. 

Jesus doesn't say that we have to simply believe God can throw a mountain into the sea. It requires action on our part. We must change our words, thoughts, and actions to reflect the reality that God not only CAN do what He says he will, or WILL do what He says He will, but that He has ALREADY GONE BEFORE US, HAS ALREADY DONE WHAT HE SAYS HE WILL DO. 

Hillary and I were trying everything we possibly could to fulfill our dream. But if we really believed we served a God who was powerful enough to do what we had prayed of Him, why were we constantly making contingency plans as though He wasn't going to come through? 

In real faith, there is no room for, "If God does this, great, but if He DOESN'T, then I have a back-up plan." 

So I told Hillary that I thought we should sign up for the Guys/Girls retreat. 

And, before we left for the retreat in March, pregnancy tests started coming up with the little blue line. 

Of course, God owes us nothing. There is nothing I could do that could put God in my debt. And I'm not saying that God is like a slot machine, guaranteed to "pay out" the longer you pull His arm. But even Jesus knew the power of true faith, of faith that doesn't ask, 'What if God doesn't come through?' but instead, 'God has already gone before me; there is no need of a back-up plan'. 

Hillary and I didn't deserve this blessing. We hadn't earned it. And I don't believe my faith made it magically happen when it did. That's the real mystery of faith, I guess. God's got a whole lot going on up there; things that I will never be able to understand. He's still not provided Hillary and I with an explanation why things happened the way they did in October. God owes me no explanation. But he has still promised me, and everyone else, that all we have to do is believe that He is capable of the things He says He is. 

And then to live our lives as if we believe it.