I took Brooks and Evelyn Rose out on a walk this afternoon; today we had the first hint of Autumn crisp in the air, the sun shone bright and there was nary a cloud in a sea blue sky--a perfect afternoon for a walk with my older two, and a happy chance at distracting my cranky two year old. We stopped too many times to count along the way to admire various gardens, trees, dogs and leaves. Evelyn Rose found a spotty red maple leaf, "Look! It's pink!" she proudly declared. Brooks noticed a long brown crunchy one, fallen from a neighboring tree. "Why does it look like this, Mama?" He asked. "Because when leaves fall from trees, they dry up and die," I answered. "I am the vine, you are the branches. . ." I recited in my mind, smiling at the remembering.
Later this evening, we were singing our evening bedtime medley while the kids clapped, sang along, and jumped perilously close to the edge of the bed. After our kareoke rendition of John 3:16, (For God so loved the world, that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not die but have eternal life,) Sam took the opportunity to talk to Brooks about Jesus, and how he gives us life forever when we love him. A slight look of skepticism crossed Brook's face. "Daddy," he started, "but people do die. They do. They get old and they dry out, and then they die." I hooted at that, recognizing the dots my barely-turned four year old connected from our walk earlier.
After we got them tucked in, said our final goodnights, turned out the lights and assuaged their ever predictable tears, (how is it that they still act surprised that they have to go to sleep at the end of the day?) I sat down to read John 15:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
I couldn't miss the startling parallel to Psalm 1:1-3, the passage we were led to when God gave us Alder as the name for our son:
"Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his word he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planed by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers."
We named our son Alder in hopes that he would grow into this kind of man: a man of courage, of strength, one who loves the Lord, follows His law, and abides in His love. God, in his all knowing, all seeing goodness and mercy, has used that which we prayed over our boy to transform our own hearts, too. Abide in me, He says. Walk with me. Follow me. Love me. Bear fruit. Ask me. Receive joy.
Walking the NICU road has forever changed me; I no longer recognize the woman I was a month and a half ago. I have known more sorrow and fear than ever before, but I have also known more courage, more mercy, more beauty, and more glory. I know more of me, because I know more of Him.