Confessions of an Expectant Father

On March 17, 2012 Mare Cris gave me a title I wasn’t sure I’d ever have: husband. Over five years have quickly gone by since then. We’ve seen the amazing faithfulness of God through both blessings and trials.

We decided that this year was the right time to start our family. We felt like things had settled down here in our new ministry assignment and we saw no reason to wait any longer. Neither of us is getting any younger (especially me).

We weren’t really sure what to expect. We’ve known other couples that conceived before intentionally trying to start a family. We’ve also met couples that struggled with infertility (some of whom were never able to have biological children).

Weeks turned into months. We weren’t really worried, but we were beginning to wonder if we were in for a long wait. I wrote this Scripture down in my prayer journal:

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots
around your table.

-Psalm 128:3

God graciously fulfilled this promise back in July. Mare Cris was experiencing the first telltale signs of pregnancy and used some home tests that I bought months before. The two lines were unmistakable evidence of great news: we were officially expecting a baby! My cousin (who is an OB/GYN) was the first to hear about it (she confirmed the reliability of home tests). The next day (after positive test #2) I called my dad to inform him that he would be a grandfather again. The following Sunday my wife was leading worship at our church and shared the good news with them.

The daily grind of first trimester queasiness, dizziness, and fatigue have taken a toll on Mare Cris. I’m still trying to believe this is actually happening–it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of being a father. But words can hardly express how grateful and excited both of us are.

Yesterday we were able to see our little one for the first time. Hearing the tiny heartbeat nearly brought tears to our eyes. I’m sure we would have both been sobbing if we could have gazed at the live image long enough. But it was over within a few minutes–just long enough for our technician to gather the needed information. A doctor came not long after the test to give us the age of the child (a little over 8 weeks) and tell us everything looked normal. I’m sure this is all familiar scenery for the medical staff, but Mare Cris and I were awestruck.

Soon I will have a new title: father.   The baby will be born in late March.

Thank you, Lord!

El Paso: Six Months In

I try to take the time every once in a while to write about the places I’ve called home. I shared my impressions of Angeles City back in 2011–this was a big move after spending the previous nine years in Manila. I’ve also shared what it was like to move back to the USA and experience all the reverse culture shock that comes with being back here.

I suppose I’ve been a bit of a slacker in terms of this blog–it’s just not quite as high a priority as it once was. But I do look over these old posts from time to time, and doing so always puts a smile on my face. These little digital memoirs are vivid reminders of God’s faithfulness and abundant blessings.

It’s been a little over six months since we moved to our current location. I’m reflecting on this adventure while Mare Cris cooks some longganisa and eggs for our (late) breakfast on this sunny morning. Here are a few of my thoughts (in no particular order) about the city known as El Paso.

The Franklin Mountains

The road heading to the church office.

I have the privilege of seeing God’s majestic handiwork every time I drive to the church office. The Franklin Mountains are magnificent, colossal monuments to the glory of God. These majestic ridges from His fingerprint speak volumes to all who are willing to spend just a few moments in contemplation (Psalms 19:1, Romans 1:20).

Where the Wind Blows

Each place I’ve lived has it’s own type of natural disasters. Earthquakes and typhoons were a regular part of life in the Philippines. Alabama has had more than it’s fair share of tornadoes. El Paso is generally free of these, but it does have it’s own brand of destructive (or at least disruptive) weather: straight-line winds. They can howl angrily for hours (sometimes for days) and displace anything that isn’t securely anchored to solid ground. There’s probably a sermon illustration in there somewhere.

Military

El Paso is home to Fort Bliss, a US Army post. My dad was actually stationed here back in the 60’s when he was in the Army. The military presence is pervasive–we regularly see men and women in uniform at restaurants, stores, etc. Many who have chosen to live here permanently have done so after lengthy military careers.

This military presence is reflected in the congregation I lead–most of our church members are active or retired soldiers (and their spouses/widows). It’s an honor to serve men and women who have sacrificed so much for the sake of this great nation.

Border Town

El Paso is located right on the border of Juarez, Mexico. It still feels strange to look over into another country while driving through certain parts of the city. Mare Cris and I haven’t visited Juarez yet, but maybe we will one of these days. It would be a shame to live a few miles away from  Mexico and never go visit.

Scenic Drive, overlooking El Paso, the border, and Juarez.

The demographics of El Paso have been radically influenced by its proximity to Mexico. The city is now about 80% Latino/Hispanic.

Espanol

Spanish is ubiquitous here, and a significant percentage of the population is bilingual as far as I can tell. I have occasionally encountered situations in which I’m unable to communicate with someone due to the language barrier (this is rare, but it does happen). Sometimes it reminds me of my first few months in Manila–feeling like the odd man out because I don’t speak one of most-used languages. The longer I’m here the more I want to learn Spanish. I just ordered some flash cards (this is how I began learning Tagalog), so we’ll see if I can make some headway.

To be continued . . .