year

At 8.48p at this time last year the world as my family knew it had changed. Q was born just over 2lbs and about 12 weeks before he was expected. It was unreal the ups and downs and how many people showered him and my sister and brother-in-law in prayer.

Q's first outfit, just days after he was born.

Q's first birthday party (a day late, since he was sick on his actual birthday)

This year, the little man who stole our hearts was sick and missed his own celebration. As guests came to our house just to say quick hellos, a moment stood out to me. My dad's best friend had come to drop off a card and wish the little man a happy one year of crawling around the earth. It was a simple conversation - if you can even call it that. As they stood in the doorway, my dad took Q in his arms and said, "Quinton, this is Eric." I wish I had a video of that moment in time, my dad so proud of his first little grandson. Words can't capture the sweetness of the moment. Which I realize is not so conducive to a blog, but it's my blog so I do what I want. Just take my word for it, it was tender and awesome.

It's pretty incredible and humbling to think that God, in the middle of running the world and keeping things together, had time and concern for this little life that's so important and precious to us and so far removed from presidents or kings or anyone that gets assigned "real" value. But He did. And a year later, even though he keeps me from sleeping anytime I get to come back to visit him, I'm so glad this little life continues ...and cries... and laughs ...and does his bodily functions wherever he wants. Because baby.

what I post every year

My parents met my boyfriend's parents for the first time a few months ago. After dinner, his mom texted me, "You definitely got the gift of gab from your mom!"

And I thought, oh no.

these are my parents. we don't look alike.

I clearly didn't get my genes from my parents, but they did give me a lot.

Family - for a very basic start. They loved this little girl that they saw pictures of at a rest stop in upstate New York and then met in a New York City airport. Enough that they let her into their world for a whole lifetime.

Jesus - It amazes me when I actually take the time to stop and think that of all the kids that were adopted and all of the families, I ended up in this one. One that went to church and encouraged me to follow God and set me up to figure out what it looks like to live life with Him.

Personality - which is somewhat scary, but also somewhat awesome. My mom cares about everyone. She tells me all the time that I'm too busy and I tell her this story about a pot and a kettle. She is instantly welcoming in any situation and so unbelievably good with names and faces that she knew every kid for 20 years that walked through her school doors - and their parents. My dad is brilliant, logical and always figuring out something in his head. He studies hard and works hard for as long as it takes to do something right. They showed me what it meant to love people and work for what I wanted.

Support - I'm still not 100% sure how much either of my parents really know or understand about figure skating, basketball or volleyball, but they drove hours to and from (and sometimes to and from again for my forgotten skates) games and competitions. They sat through endless high school plays and choir concerts - which I'm beginning to appreciate more and more now that I go to a lot of those myself.

Not to mention a host of other more tangible things like shelter and food and tamogatchi electronic pets and light up sneakers and all of the other things that kids from the 90's wanted.

Every year on this day, they've celebrated me and I think this might be the first year that I realized (yes, I'm a bit slow) that truly, I should be celebrating them.

celebration

I got baptized as a 9-ish year old kid (I have a terrible memory when it comes to dates). I remember going through class about what it meant to be a Christian and part of my church and what baptism was. I was the youngest person in my class by about 15 years, except for Claude. Claude was an 8-ish year old kid.

When I climbed into the giant baptismal (that made for an AWESOME hiding place as a kid), I was barely tall enough to be seen by the rest of the congregation. I was nervous - partially because I'm not a very good swimmer and partially because I wasn't sure if I was going to get water up my nose (I know, totally logical). I was totally focused on how I was going to breathe and starting to feel ready. The pastor asked me, "Do you have a special verse that you want to share with the congregation?"

WHOA. Not ready for that curveball, Pastor. You should have warned me if you wanted me to say anything. "No." Is what I squeaked out. (Claude, one year my younger, rattled off John 3.16 which my mom later told me is that I should have done at least. Claude could also probably swim better and wasn't afraid of having to be saved from drowning in 2 feet of water.) The pastor smiled and held my nose (*whew*) and pushed me under water demonstrating my belief in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. As I came out of the water, the rest of the church said a hearty, "amen."

Fast forward nearly 20 years - I have the awesome opportunity to be a part of the baptism service at my church. It's trouble really, because I have a hard enough time keeping back the flood of emotions just watching people get dunked in inflatable hot tubs and jump out of the water, arms in the air, droplets going everywhere. They're so proud and so excited to show the world their love for Jesus and desire for a better way to live.

a picture I took from the last baptism I got to watch

It looks a lot different than the way I was baptized. My partner (because I weigh about 112 pounds soaking wet and have the muscle mass of a tree squirrel) and I introduce ourselves to the people who climb into the inflatable hot tub (it's... like a baptistry).  We ask if they believe in the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior and on their affirmation, we baptize them in His name. People cheer and clap and raise their hands in excitement, running up to hug their soaking wet friend or child or parent.

And in this spectacle of an event, people plunge under water, unafraid of freezing temperatures and who is watching. They're celebrating.

And they should. Because they get to celebrate the real, awesome life that they found in Jesus.