I started babysitting
at a very young age.
I kept the church
nursery when I was 12
(and unofficially
before then).
I was a daycare
worker while in college.
I am an elementary
school teacher and taught school until Anna was born.
I had a home day care
when Anna was a baby, providing care for 5 babies very close in age.
I had to learn how to calm and care for 5
babies at the same time.
It was like having
quintuplets for 10 hours a day.
When Luke was born, I
was almost 35 years old.
I had lots of experience
with children by that time.
And Luke was my
youngest.
So I thought I had
this infant thing down pat.
But from the very
first moment Luke was born,
I found out that I
had no idea.
I very soon realized
that I had a lot of learning to do
and a lot of “just
getting through it” to come.
Luke came into the
world crying loudly and he did not stop.
During his very first
night in our world,
Rob and I looked at
each other in wonderment at this new baby son of ours.
We were so thankful
and felt so very blessed!
Born healthy at
almost 10 pounds (9 lbs. 12 ounces to be exact),
Luke was nursing well.
Luke was nursing well.
He had all 10 fingers
and all 10 toes.
Everything was as it
was supposed to be.
He was just perfect!
And we were beyond thrilled!
And we were beyond thrilled!
But he would NOT stop
crying.
He did stop the loud
crying unless he was hungry or hurting
but the fuss/crying kept on.
For almost a year!
On that very first
night, I looked over at Rob after the first few hours and said,
“Pretty sure this
one’s going to be different.”
And how right I was!
Luke cried all of the
time.
Or what seemed like
all of the time.
He was not happy with
just being held.
Unless someone was
holding him
AND
actively engaging with
him,
he cried and fussed.
He was only satisfied
when he held our attention...
…our UNDIVIDED
attention!
Which was difficult
since I was homeschooling Anna (1st grade)
and Wesley was only 2
½.
(Side note here is that even though it was so very difficult,
I now look on those days as the good old days
and I treasure the memories).
(Side note here is that even though it was so very difficult,
I now look on those days as the good old days
and I treasure the memories).
During those first
few months of Luke’s infancy, we tried everything.
Swaddling, not
swaddling.
Nursing on demand,
nursing more on a schedule.
Altering my diet to
remove any foods that might be upsetting his stomach.
Gas drops.
Swings, car rides,
bouncy seats, stroller rides.
Comforting him when
he cried, letting him cry it out some.
And on and on and on.
All while in a
constant state of prayer.
But nothing seemed to
work.
So we buckled down
for the long haul.
Learned to live
without sleep.
We loved our boy.
We adapted.
And we sang.
It’s the one thing
that would somewhat calm his fussing.
So we latched onto
that and worked it to the utmost of our ability!
While holding Luke, we
were constantly singing and humming and walking around
bouncing up and down to
try and soothe our son.
Maybe we were even trying to soothe ourselves.
We did sing songs
that were already written but the vast majority of them were “sing-songy” songs
made up on the spot – full of nonsense phrases or what we would normally be
just saying to each other or to the older children.
There’s one song
that’s famous in our little family that I made up one day when I just felt like
I could not take it any more. I was in
our parsonage living room trying to get Luke to stop crying.
I had been walking around with him but had
given up and just sat down.
I was tired. So very tired.
I was tired. So very tired.
I looked out of the window, saw a tree, and
made up this song:
“Mercy, mercy me. I think I’ll
climb a tree.
I think I’ll climb up high to see what I can see.
Mercy, mercy me. I think I’ll
climb a tree.
I think I’ll climb up high to see what I can see.”
Anna later added
another verse to this song and
it is now a family
classic anytime we are feeling nostalgic or stressed!
Last night, though,
there was a song that Rob made up for Luke that came to mind when I got an
email from our preacher and that song, as it always has, made me smile.
The preacher was
sending an email about Luke’s confirmation class today.
He was informing us
that they (among other activities) are taking a field trip to
This certainly isn’t
Luke’s first trip to Duke. We’ve been
there many times. But it has been over 6 years since we've been and it is his first
time there since his dad died. Luke
would have been around 7 years old the last time we went so he doesn’t remember
much about it.
In the crying days of
Luke’s infancy,
there was a song that
Rob made up about his years in seminary
at Duke Divinity
School
The song had so many
versions and verses about papers and tests and sermons and commuting and focus
groups and professors and graduation weekend
that there’s no way
for me to remember them all.
Truthfully, the
verses were never the same.
What did stick,
though, and what was always the same was the chorus:
“Luke, Luke,
son of the man from Duke.
Luke, Luke,
son of the man from Duke.
Luke, Luke,
son of the man from Duke.
Luke, Luke, Luke,
son of the man from Duke.”
I certainly picked up
on this song and sang it to Luke too.
Because original
material and rights of ownership
had no meaning at all
when it came to
getting Luke to stop crying!
And I loved both the son and the man from Duke!
And I loved both the son and the man from Duke!
But this song.
It was really their
thing.
Rob’s and Luke’s.
And I loved hearing it!
And I loved hearing it!
And that was my first thought yesterday when I got the email from our preacher.
My Luke, the son of
the man from Duke, was going to visit his dad’s alma mater.
Luke thought of it
too.
Since he knew he had to get up early today, he got everything
together last night.
He even got his
clothes together.
But this morning, exactly one
minute before walking out of the door,
he ran back to his
room and changed shirts.
He was wearing one of
his dad’s shirts.
And as wrinkled as that
shirt was, I just grinned and took some photos.
Luke was very excited
to be going to Duke today.
And this time, he
will remember it.
This time, the first
time there since Rob’s death, it will mean even more.
Today, my boy gets to
go for a short visit to a beautiful college which holds so much of our
Methodist tradition and history.
He gets to be with
the other members of his confirmation class as they learn more about Duke. They get to walk around the Divinity School
and maybe even go to Duke
Gardens
But for my Luke,
who has a hard time
remembering his dad since he was so young when his dad died,
today is also about
walking the paths and hallways that his father walked
and being in a place
that holds so much of his father’s tradition and history.
And,
even though Luke has
proven from the very first moment he was alive
that he will be his
own person who marches to the beat of his own drum,
today will be a
pilgrimage of sorts into his dad’s past
and
touching base with
what it felt like to be his son.
After all, he is
“Luke, Luke,
the son of the man from Duke.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luke sent me all of these photos today so what follows is Luke's view of his day at Duke!
I love it!
