In case you’ve forgotten who we are…
Glenda Fern
We haven’t yet met Glenda, but she has kept us up the most of all our children this year. All my life, I’ve heard of people saying that a pregnancy was a surprise to them, and in sixteen years of marriage, I never understood that concept—but Glenda came when we least expected. It has been a turbulent and frightening pregnancy so far, the most frightening of all Steph’s our pregnancies. But God has been with us.
Earlier in the pregnancy, Steph was diagnosed with placenta previa. With her hemmorhaging with the last delivery, her age, and the placement of the placenta, it was a life-threatening diagnosis. The doctor said if the placenta were to move enough, he would consider it high risk, but he did not have high expectations and our research showed it to be highly unlikely. However, the placenta did move twice as much as the minimum required a month after the diagnosis, and at our checkup last week, the doctor said the placenta has moved completely out of the way, and he is looking forward to a normal delivery. We praise the Lord for His miracle!
We are looking forward to an early December delivery, Lord willing. Robyn should be on hand to help, and my sister China and her husband Konrad hope to arrive November 25. They should be here until December 17, which should allow China to be a help around the birth and afterward. We are very grateful that they are able and willing to come help.
Daisy
Daisy is by far the fairest of them all. She has the lightest hair, the brightest eyes, and the most hugs of all our babies. She will usually go around the table after breakfast each morning and hug every person at least once and say, “Ma-moo.” Daisy loves to talk, but almost all her words are based around her favorite word: Mama. Water is “mamau,” food is “mami,” up is “mom,” no is “MAAAAAAH!” She does say a few other words, like “primo” (that means cousin, and is what we call Tanner) and “Daddy.” So, she has all the most important words figured out.
Her favorite word of all besides “Mama” is “mira,” which means Look! Daisy finds life astonishing and is constantly gasping and saying, “Mira!” about all the things that delight her. She has a mouth full of teeth—that help protect her from older brothers and sisters, unfortunately. Another of her latest words is “bebé,” which she says lovingly as she pats Steph’s tummy. In January, it will be two years since she came into the world, and it seemed Steph had left it for a short while. I often think of angels and miracles when I see her bright blonde hair.
Willow
Willow is both the quietest and loudest of our children, I think. Only very recently has she begun speaking to me with a full voice. She turned three in June, and so far, she has always spoken to me in a whisper, but she speaks to Steph and her siblings normally. The loud part comes in her laugh, which I say sounds like a walrus. I have never heard such a small person have such a boisterous laugh.
No one will accuse Willow of being the sharpest cookie in the crayon box (as my former coworker used to say). For example, I was starting a small fire to roast hotdogs. Willow was beside me just as I got the fire to catch on the large pile of cardboard. I had been steadily saying, “Willow, sit back. The fire is ouchy. It will burn you.” But she wanted to see it and had leaned far in. As the flames began licking at her hair, she just sat there and quietly said, “Ow. Ow. Ow,” until I tossed her back and away. Her hair and eyebrows were singed, but she didn’t complain.
Walter
Walter is Primo Tanner’s constant shadow. I think he’s going to miss Primo pretty badly come October; they do everything together: watering trees, welding projects in the barn, riding the moto up to school—wherever Primo is, Walter wants to be.
Walter is going to be Big this week because he turns five on Friday. He has been seriously debating with Seth what sort of cake he should choose for a few weeks now. He’s glad to be turning Big and five on Friday, but he’s sad he won’t be starting school this year. He misses his brothers while they’re gone all day. He visits school every chance he gets.
Seth
Seth is advancing spledindly in school. I was worried about how it would be to teach a leftie and a first-grader, but I’ve actually enjoyed it. Seth is doing both English and Spanish at the same time, and I’ve been surprised at how easily he shifts between the languages. It helps him if we speak only Spanish during a Spanish class and only English during an English class. He is reading fluidly in both languages now.
Seth is the one that I worry the most about making it to adulthood in one piece. His poor body has gone through plenty of bumps and breaks and cuts so far—I’m thankful for butterfly stitches and super glue! Though Walter thinks he’ll be big turning five this week, in just two weeks, Seth turns seven, which based on how far out his chest puffs when he talks about it, is about as big as could be hoped for.
Shawn (aka Juanito)
It is rare that we don’t call Shawn “Juanito.” His Spanish name makes it easy to differentiate between us. Juanito is bright and loves to serve others; in fact, he is never happier than when he is doing some task for someone else. But doing his own tasks—well, that’s his Achilles’ heel. I am not sure how many prayers for patience the school teacher (ahem…) has frantically prayed this year. If you know how to motivate someone to do his own tasks on his own, please send me your secret.
But what Juanito costs me in lost patience, he makes up for in sweetness and thoughtfulness. (If only I could get him to see that finishing his tasks on time is doing something nice for me…) He is quiet and tender at eight years old and loves to entertain the little ones and is never cruel. That’s worth a lot.
Dane
Dane turned ten this year, signalling that he was big enough to use more power tools, including things that can cut and mangle. He loves working in the shop, and he does try to be careful, but I think I understand why some men go gray about the time their boys start getting bigger. I can hear the tools in the shop from my office, and I often pray for his safety as I work at my desk.
Dane’s love for work makes it easy to take advantage of him. He’s never happier than when he’s working unless it’s when he’s sitting with Daddy. I think his younger brothers too clearly understand that if they drag their feet just a bit, Dane will already have the work done before they have to do too much. Dane was baptized earlier this year and is diligent in his time with God each morning, which is a blessing to me. He is our songleader at church; he has to lead by standing on a stool, but he does it enthusiastically.
Abbey
Abbey turned twelve this month. She is developing into quite the young lady though it is hard for her to not be able to do all that Anne is allowed to do. Recently, she has been taking up more sewing projects, making baby blankets and other small things. Steph wanted to wait to teach her to do her own dresses for a bit yet while Anne was learning. Abbey was happy that Miss Evelina taught her how to braid a rug.
Abbey likes things that are soft and purple and smell good. She shrieks for Anne to come kill the spider that was THIS BIG, and loves nothing better than holding Daisy. She and her mother do not lock horns nearly so much as before, which is a comfort to us all. There is no one so highly esteemed in her eyes as Stephanie, but she sometimes fails to convey that when she is tired or hungry. If she’s every grumpy, just give her something scrumptious to eat, and she turns into a cherub.
Anne
Anne entered her teenage season the beginning of this year, marching us into the next chapter of life. It has been remarkable at how she has flipped the page from childhood to adolescence so abruptly. Yes, there are still frequent childish moments in her (and I daresay in myself), but it is a joy to see a young woman taking responsibility more and more. While Abbey is holding her skirts high around the barn, Anne is giving her heart to every living creature, no matter how many legs it possesses. She recently said that she is determined to hate her next pet because every pet she ever loves dies, so she will say she hates it, even if she has to love it deeply on the inside.
She has mostly mastered the art of dressmaking, having made the last few almost entirely on her own. She has also almost mastered the art of pulling out stitches since her method of sewing is to go like house o’ fire until it’s all put together, then to take it to her mom to have pointed out which sections must be pulled and redone, only to hit it again at full speed. She loves sewing and cooking and caring for animals and babies—she prefers taking care of animals, but she loves tickling babies until they cannot breathe.
Stephanie
A little over sixteen years ago, I asked a bishop friend of mine if he had advice for me before my wedding. He did, and I still replay that advice from time to time in my mind. He said a number of things like, “You will never be too poor to get your wife flowers,” and “Your wife should be your best friend.” One thing he said then stuck out to me, “You think that you love your wife-to-be as much as you possibly could, but you will learn that if you work at it, you can love her more and more each passing year.” That is certainly true for me.
I watch my wife develop with the passing years into a more refined gem, and I grow to value her and love her more. I remember as a teen scoffing at an author who said he loved his wife so much it hurt, but I’m afraid I understand him now. If I am any more like Jesus today than I was sixteen years ago, I’m sure much of my own refinement can be attributed to my wife.
Okay, this isn’t a love letter. I don’t want to make anyone gag. Steph is healthy and happy, but she’s sometimes anxious about the coming birth. One doesn’t walk through the valley of the shadow without death’s cool touch marking her. She doesn’t look forward to December for that, but she’s also eager to have another baby in her arms. Please pray for her as you think of her.
Help! -Piglet (me)
Steph and I are both thirty-seven this year. Someone recently told me that I am probably about halfway through life, assuming that I will live to be seventy-five. I had to sit down to catch my breath at the thought of another whole lifetime ahead of me. I’m pretty sure one of my hairs turned gray at the thought. Sometimes I feel positively ancient as it is, then other times, my wife is gasping for me to stop tickling her or else cleaning up the blankets where the boys and I had made a fort in the living room.
My last year seemed to fly by. I have had sundry Momentous Things happen this year past, and sometimes, my spirit feels tired. If I live another whole lifetime, I fear I shall be tired indeed and will spend my time in sighings (when I’m not tickling someone). Anne and I were recently talking about something Momentous in her life, and how she wants to grow spiritually, to please the Lord, to be the woman she’s supposed to be, and I felt a bit helpless, at a loss for what to say because I feel the same way—except for the woman part. Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived a long life, then I feel anxious that I’ll never grow up! Ach wel!
My motto at school this year has been “Doing the right thing at the wrong time is just doing the wrong thing—so do the right thing right now.” (I’m pretty sure Juanito might have nightmares about that motto.) What my students may not know is that every time I say that motto to them, I’m reminding myself.
Juan David 