She was a woman of priorities. Nancy was willing to set aside a blossoming career so she could raise her children as she saw fit. I didn’t have the privilege of knowing her at that time, but I’ve certainly seen its effect on the lives on her children. It’s a legacy of making time for the important things that will live on with Mat and is already living on with Jessica, the mother of my son.

She was a woman of hospitality. In fact, I can honestly say I would not be here today if it were not for Nancy’s hospitality. I was a single (rather miserable) teacher at Northern Dutchess Christian School where Nancy was serving on the board and I had almost an hour drive each day coming in. So Nancy, in her typical giving way, offered their home to me if I couldn’t make the drive home and told me “make yourself at home”. It was through this offer that I grew close to the Clum family; and no—there were no ulterior motives. I actually grew to love Dave and Nancy long before before I had even met Jessica.

Nancy was a woman of strength. I think everyone who knew her at some point has heard the words: “So… here’s the plan”. From her role in getting the Northern Dutchess Christian high school started to her ministry involvement in countless churches around the Hudson Valley, she was not afraid to take action. Anyone who knew her could attest to Nancy’s great strength and determination, but she was not a hard woman.

Nancy was a woman of love. Looking back through all the pictures as we prepared the photo board for her wake, one recurring theme became evident: she brought people together (and fed them!) There were pictures of people crammed together on the couch, on the deck, in the car, in the yard. I can’t tell you the number of people who said to me at the wake: “I think I remember you from that large gathering at the Clum’s house.” Less then a week before she passed away though she was very weak, Nancy still wanted to sit on the couch in the middle of all the commotion; she said she loved the laughter.

Nancy was a woman of joy. This was a woman who helped me fool my wife into believing I hadn’t asked them for permission to marry Jessica; so much so that when I did finally pop the question, her response was “Wait, did you ask my parents?” Just a few days before she passed away, Dave and I were adjusting her in her bed; but she didn’t want be adjusted. And she let us know that by jokingly reminding her husband that she still had enough strength to karate chop him in the head.

But most importantly, Nancy was a woman of faith—and not just any faith. Nancy was driven by an intense desire to bring glory to her Savior Jesus Christ, whether it was through her life or through her death. In fact, just two weeks ago Nancy and I were talking about the future and she spoke with great confidence about heading to heaven, but her concern was with glorifying God as she passed through the valley of the shadow of death. That’s why we tried to make her funeral service a time of tearful celebration full of songs and rejoicing; the hard part is passed. And now that she’s gone through death’s doorway, she is in a place of eternal joy, a place where as Revelation 21 says: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, Behold, I am making all things new. Write this down, for these words are faithful and true.”

Nancy would have been the first one to admit her shortcomings, yet she found confidence in the gospel. Christ’s death burial and resurrection applied to her, not because of all the meaningful things said about her at her funeral, but simply because our God is a God of mercy and grace—qualities that Nancy herself lived her life trying to emulate.

Read Nancy’s obituary or visit her memorialized Facebook page.

For he that sees the serpent trodden under foot, specially knowing his former fierceness, no longer doubts that he is dead and has quite lost his strength, unless his is perverted in mind and has not even his bodily senses sound. For who that sees a lion, either, made sport of by children, fails to see that he is either dead or has lost all his power? Just as, then, it is possible to see with the eyes the truth of all this, so now that death is made sport of and despised by believers in Christ, let none any longer doubt, nor any prove incredulous, of death having been brought to nought by Christ, and the corruption of death destroyed and stayed.”

—Athanasius, Selections from The Incarnation of the Word

We did so much during the week that I could ramble on and on about all the details, but instead I’ll touch on the highlights:

Listen to the sermon:

Part 1
Part 2

1. Evangelism is not about winning an argument, it’s about preaching the gospel.

The word evangelism literally means to bring the good message. Paul made it clear in 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 that preaching the gospel is not about intellectual superiority, it’s about Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Despite the fact that he was an extremely learned man, Paul’s method of evangelism was weakness, fear and much trembling, not persuasive words; every act of evangelism is meant to be a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, not our own eloquence.

Something most parents wont tell you is that you don’t love your children as much when they’re first born as when you’ve spent some time with them. Oh, it’s still love, but it doesn’t have nearly the same depth. The newborn is a stranger, an alien to your family—you welcome him and feel a sense of care and duty; but as with any relationship, time makes that relationship grow, gives it depth and value.

I bring this up because it may help explain why understanding the concept of parenthood is so elusive for non-parents. Yes, there is a deep, mystical bond between parent and child; but I don’t think that’s the ultimate strength of parenthood. The power of parenthood comes as the relationship grows and matures.

There is a bittersweetness to this growth. Jessica and I celebrate tiny milestones in Ethan’s independence: the first time he rolled over by himself, the first time he sat up by himself, the time he learned to entertain himself with a toy; but as he grows, he needs us less and less. This is good and natural, but it is the bitter part of parenthood. Soon he won’t need us at all and we can watch with tears and with rejoicing as he makes his way into the wide world.

That is not this moment, however; this moment he is very dependent. He is a helpless tangle of cord and blankets, his face swollen from the fluids being pumped into him. Those piercing blue eyes, full of simplicity, seem to ask: “how could you let them do this to me?” He knows enough to recognize his pain, but not enough to understand the long term benefits just yet.

And the real irony is my own dependence: placing him in the arms of a person I’ve only just met and letting him cut my child’s face to pieces, while I look on helplessly, dependent on doctors, nurses, God.

But that dependency is not a weakness, it is an important part of reality. And that reminds me of the most important lesson I’ve learned about parenting: it is not an exact science. Children are analog, not digital

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Looking for some crazy fun games to play when you’ve got a bunch of people over? Here are a few time-tested gems from our family’s game trove.

This past Tuesday he asked me to join him.

Of course, I’m “off” for Christmas, so my initial reaction was no. The inertia of lying around on the couch is hard to overcome! But I reminded myself that life is less about being comfortable and more about making a difference; so I said yes and accompanied him to jail on Tuesday night, guitar in hand, ready to sing.

See, my dad taught the guys there a song I wrote called Immanuel, and he thought they’d enjoy hearing the author of the song sing it. Little did they realize that it would be the other way around: I can’t begin to tell you how amazing it was to hear the song I wrote about God’s grace being sung—and sung enthusiastically—by a group of inmates just days before Christmas.

Going to a Bible study in jail can be a real challenge to your thinking. There are obviously a lot of stereotypes you bring with you, mental assumptions that begin to surface from the first moment you hear the buzz of the door being unlocked for you. Going exactly where the guards tell you, watching the guys file in and size you up—I don’t even need to tell you exactly what some of the thoughts that were racing through my brain were, I’m sure you’re already imagining some of them.

So imagine my surprise when this group of twenty or so guys begin singing praise to God and lifting up their hands. I was humbled: inmates, people I had never met before, began to ask me about my son’s surgery, many of them telling me that they’ve been praying for him for months now. I was amazed: criminals, people accused of some pretty rotten things, praying out loud with more boldness and zeal than most church folks in a Sunday night service and taking an interest in me, someone they’d never even met before. Maybe some of our church congregations should take a field trip…

Don’t get me wrong, these are some needy people; but they had a refreshing honesty, an undisguised frankness that might be mistaken for coarseness. It wasn’t very hard for these guys to understand what the Bible means when it says “you shall call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins.” These guys understood their need for a Savior and weren’t afraid to admit it. In fact, one of the guys trusted Christ as his Savior that same night.

Then I considered myself: free to go where I want, when I want, unshackled and untethered, yet I take nowhere near as much joy in the reality that my sins are forgiven and my soul is set free? My friends, these things ought not be so.

Ever feel like this before?

Remember those days of playing in the snow when everyone else was tired and went inside, and you were left trying to pick fights with no one in particular?

(Hand drawn, traced in Illustrator, colored in Photoshop.)

I’m posting a quick update via my blog since I’ve been severly limited in my ability to connect while here at Children’s Hospital of Philidelphia. I don’t have cell service to update Twitter or upload pics via Flickr, and their hospital network is blocking both Facebook and Twitter.

We got checked in pretty quickly and Ethan was so well behaved before they took him in to surgery. Leaving him was very difficult, but the doctors were fantastic here and our pastor, Pastor Dan, joined us in the waiting room for most of the surgery until the inlaws arrived.

The surgery was successful, they finished the lip adhesion and put tubes in his ears. In fact, the ENT doctor told us that he had a massive amount of fluid built up behind his eardrums, which was ironic since it really hadn’t seemed to bother him. Must be so strange to be able to hear things clearly for the first time (he’s been jumping at any sudden high-pitch sounds).

The hardest part of the day was seeing him for the first time after the surgery. Neither one of us had really prepared for how different he would look; not sure what we were expecting, but the combination of the bruising and scars along with the big change in his face was harder on us than we thought it would be. His skin reacted badly to some of the surgical tape which also made him more swollen and red than usual.

He’s been eating fairly well (as best he can) though trying to learn a whole new pattern of sucking is frustrating for him. He also has a lot of fluid and mucus build-up in his nose and throat, making it difficult to swallow.

He’s such a strong little guy… he kicked the IV out of his foot and they had to reinsert it into his hand (after several tearful tries in both arms). Recovery is going to take a while, but at least he’s sleeping better this evening. Jess and I will be staying at CHOP overnight, and hopefully we’ll be able to bring him home tomorrow.

Thanks so much to everyone for your thoughts and prayers, emails, text messages and calls. They’ve really encouraged us.

Last night’s dream was particularly vivid.

I was seated in the very front row of a large yet intimate theater. The lights were still up and I sensed that we were waiting for the show to begin. To my right was what appeared to be a gigantic inverted bowl suspended in midair. It seemed to be made of the same material as a cheap plastic cup, and because of its size, it wobbled when I touched it.

On stage, there were all sorts of odd contraptions: several bikes with large flat pieces of metal welded to their frames, a rusted swingset, a PVC pipe large enough for a man to walk through standing up (to name just a few).

The show must have been late because a murmur began to grow in the audience and soon people began shouting for the performers to come out. Finally, a man appeared at the back door and announced to the crowd in an unnerving flat voice that the art was, in fact, how the audience would respond to the items on stage. It was a study, said the man in the back, of the absurd and of how people respond to the absurd.

Everyone sat in silence for a moment.

Then I jumped up out of my seat, mounted one of the more interesting bikes and rode out the stage exit door and into off into the night.

In the name of art, of course.

In that spirit, I present the Ethan Cam!

If you don’t follow me on Twitter, and haven’t heard about it yet, here’s what you’re missing:

Oh and the burps!

When do we broadcast? HA! That’s like asking, “What nights will Ethan sleep all the way through?” Good luck in finding out when, you’ll just have to either follow me on Twitter or get lucky. The good news is that even if we’re not live, it’ll loop through old clips I’ve saved.

Jessica and I put together a brief list of things that we either didn’t know or didn’t realize about having a newborn baby. It’s not exhaustive (though we are exhausted) and it’s probably not even 100% correct, but hopefully it could be of some use to those with a little one on the way.

1. Newborns eat anywhere from 1-3 ounces every two to three hours.

2. Sometimes newborns have their days and their nights mixed up.

3. You don’t get to see your baby very much the day he’s born (they keep him in the nursery for several hours for cleanup, measuring, and warmup).

4. Newborn babies usually fall asleep when eating, so you have to keep them awake by changing their diaper, shifting positions, etc.

5. Poop suddenly becomes a cause for celebration.

6. You can get eight hours of sleep and still be miserable because it’s broken up into tiny segments.

7. Sometimes you don’t just get up in the night, sometimes you actually stay up all night for several days at a time.

8. Figure the car seat out before it’s time to leave the hospital. Also, neck stabilizers are good for newborns and car seats.

9. Edible arrangements make great gifts in the hospital. (You can share it with visitors.)

10. Breast milk can take three or four days to come in. Until that, it’s just a little bit of a clear liquid called colostrum.

11. When all else fails, get them moving.

12. Quick cure for gas: lay him down across your legs and pat his back, wrap a warm towel around his belly and gently flex his legs.

13. The only housework that will get done in the first week is the stuff your visiting family does.

14. Babies aren’t supposed to sleep on their stomach but you can get foam wedges that let them sleep on their side.

15. Keep them awake as often as you can during the day so they’ll sleep at night.

Oh and the most important thing I’ve learned about parenting: you know nothing.

I’m pulling the plug on IHeartHuckabee.com.

It was a lot of fun to put together (as most pet projects are) but I figure since he’s no longer in the running it’s time for it to come down. Anyone interested in either browsing the source code or purchasing the domain name, let me know.