"I am, among all people, most richly blessed."

Arthur is four months old and we haven't looked back! It's starting to feel like a distant memory of unimportant events... all the "events" of his early days.

We've been meaning to share about his name here on the blog -- and it seems a good time to finally post about that. And pictures...always a good time for sharing his cuteness (scroll down if you just want to see pictures...I included several at the end).

He is named for my maternal Grandfather, Arthur Creel Yutzy (Dec. 24, 1916 - Nov. 27 1985). He is named for my husbands family, specifically Henry Kirkland Carpenter, Myers' youngest brother who carries the "Kirkland" name. He is named for Winship, in full: Joseph Winship Carpenter, Myers' brother whom we carry in our hearts, whom we tragically lost in 2010.

Happy baby with his daddy. He LOVES his daddy, let me tell ya!

 I think it quite lovely that he shares the "24th" day of the month for his birthday with my grandfather. We chose Arthur as his name even as my "Pop Pop" actually went by his middle name - he answered to "Creel."  Oh the questions you wish you thought to ask when your grandparents are living - I'd love to know where that name is from and why he went by it. But, it never seemed an odd name to me - he was always Creel, my Pop Pop and I thought he was a pretty cool guy. However, I didn't feel I could name my child "Creel" - so "Arthur" it was. Turns out Arthur is also my maternal great-grandfather's name too, so it's a double name's sake.

I was young when my "Pop pop" passed away, but my memories are clear and I got to know him well enough. I can still remember my brother and I both climbing up on his lap in the large brown leather chair in our living room. He was warm-hearted, the type who's eyes twinkled. We'd take his comb out of his shirt pocket and comb back his grey hair - which was so funny to us because he had so little... we thought it was a good joke, I guess. I remember that he had an extra thumb on one of his hands - it was so interesting to me - didn't seem gross or weird - just made him more cool. He could tickle you like no one else!

The COLD winter days are here. Time to
bundle up babies before you take 'em out!

He drove a beer truck for a living. Pretty simple man. But what stands out to me, is what he did when he retired - when I knew him. I remember watching him with his lead and colored glass pieces at our kitchen table when he'd come to visit. I remember feeling so proud of the stained-glass unicorn he made just for me that hung in my window. Later, after he passed away, I learned that he also dabbled in Calligraphy. My mom framed a poem he chose to copy and it hung in our house for years. It felt almost like a personal "note" from my grandfather - something left behind for us to reflect and hopefully gain wisdom from. It was so "him" to me because, for my whole life anyway, he had only one leg. He got around on crutches after having complications from a clot I believe. It wasn't an easy way to live out your golden years. But he managed and made it look easy, at least from what I recall. It actually never occurred to me how hard it had to be, because he just seemed so fine about it.

So, the poem. The one he wrote in Calligraphy. I found it even more meaningful when Gwen was born. Then Arthur - whom we prayed for before he was born, almost believing he deserved a special exemption from any type of medical problem. 

Now, it speaks to me as we absorb another tough diagnosis in the family - the other name sake of Arthur, his uncle Henry. He is currently dealing with an awful, nightmarish and rare type of gastritis... and needs prayers. Please, if you will, keep him in your prayers. Unexpected blessings seem impossible in this case, but I pray for them to be there...somehow....

Here is the poem:

My Pop Pop's Calligraphy.

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things.
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy.
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life.
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for but got everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am, among all people, most richly blessed.

So finally, we are sharing about his name - all three names - and yet this is a melancholy post. We are so glad, we are thrilled to know we are done with routine CBC's for Arthur, but truly we are worn down a bit - tired hearts; we are still missing Gwen, missing Marie, and missing Winship and struggling with each loss. Just as we are feeling peace about Arthur we are desperately praying for the health of our much-loved Henry...

"Beyond the Mountains are Mountains again."

Kinda sums it up, doesn't it?

That's what's hanging on my wall at home. It's been there since before Gwen, maybe even before Lil, I can't remember (although now looking back I can't guess what I thought was a mountain then...). But to me it spoke about knowing this moment, even in it's struggles and hardships, it is life; therefore good - and that it's not about getting trough this, beyond this, past this - because sure enough, there will be a new "this" - so it sounds pessimistic, but really, it's about holding fast to an imperfect today "as is" - and well, that leads to another favorite quote I've found since - one that seems to "answer" the other so perfectly, using the same metaphor:

Watch your way then, as a cautious traveller; and don't be gazing at that mountain or river in the distance, and saying, 'How shall I ever get over them?' but keep to the present little inch that is before you, and accomplish that in the little moment that belongs to it. The mountain and the river can only be passed in the same way; and, when you come to them, you will come to the light and strength that belong to them.

That's probably the largest bit of wisdom I've gained through "all this" - life can only be lived and taken one day at a time and you must go on Faith that you will find the light and strength that belong to the impossible moments you see ahead...

...and it happens, by God, by Grace or by the mere fact that really, you don't have a choice...you find the strength and the light - the favorite quote we pass around the "heart mom" world is; "you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have."

Grace meets you in the act of "being strong" - and the light and strength are there for you... of course, there no mention of "easy" .. no rose gardens...

but you get through...but it is exhausting none-the-less.

But, in all this - I still feel "most richly blessed" - beaten down and tired of life, but I find it even easier to know and feel how blessed we are... just to have the memories I do of my Pop Pop and to hold a little boy who shares his name...that's a blessing I hold. It is the small things, the tiny moments, the unplanned and mundane parts of life that end up creating the rich and deep blessings, that, and the "unanswered prayers" -- it is often despite ourselves that we are blessed; and even as rough a place as this world is...

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

-Max Ehrmann, Desiderata: A Poem for a Way of Life

Arthur loves his feet. He pulls them by his socks and then eats is socks...

Lillian pretty much adores him, but she is not often still - so moments like this are rare...and to see him, the way he looks at her and tries to catch her eye while she runs circles around him busy in her imaginary play world (alternate universe really)...the adoring gaze, the smile that awaits return smile, the way he lights up when she actually does take a moment to return his outpouring of love... heart-meltingly sweet. The moon, she hung the moon as far as Arthur's is concerned.

Our little family at Christmastime. Dr. Sock Monkey was made for Gwen by my friend Alisha. So, he's there to represent for sweet Gwen.

Just being cute eating his hands.