Tag: birthday

Posted in birthday

Of course I’m going down the birthday water slide!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As we pulled up to my daughter’s house, I saw the biggest inflatable water slide I’d ever seen in a yard. They had rented a twenty-foot double slide for my grandson’s ninth birthday party. It was really cool.

Each of my grandson’s friends broke into a huge smile as they arrived, shedding their t-shirt and flip flops to scramble up the ladder to the top of the slide. Laughter and splashes filled the air as about twenty kids climbed up and slid down over and over again. Every once in a while, one or two would take a break to grab a slice of pizza, rip open a bag of chips, or (believe it or not) dip a carrot into some dip. After a quick refuel, they were back at it.

Suddenly, everyone ran across the driveway to the other side of the yard, ready for a baseball game. Inflatable bats hit plastic balls all over the yard as runners rounded the bases. Five minutes later, everyone headed back for more water slide fun.

I wore my bathing suit to the party, just in case. Maybe, just maybe, I would get to hurl myself down the slide into the pool of water at the bottom. But I waited, sitting with parents and other grandparents in the shade. Did anyone else wear a bathing suit? Maybe, but I wasn’t sure.

After a few hours, some families began to say goodbye and head home. The hoard dwindled to a few cousins and neighbors, and I saw my chance. As I took off my t-shirt, my grandson said, “You’re coming in? Alright!”

As I scrambled up the ladder, the grandsons were challenging me to a race. Before I even sat at the top of a slide, they yelled, “Three, two, one, go!” I lost every race except the ones where I yelled, “Go!” And then they all said, “You cheated!” Too bad, so sad. Life is tough. Get used to it.

I was the only grown up to go up the ladder and down the slide. I loved every descent, laughing the whole way down. It’s not easy being the big kid, though. But you better make sure no one is there at the bottom. Once you commit, there’s no way to slow down.

When people ask me, “So what are you doing in retirement?” I’m going to start answering, “Water slides!”

Posted in Life

The first one is turning thirty-eight

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My son turns thirty-eight tomorrow, and I’m trying really hard to remember life as my wife and I were about to have our first child. I didn’t start journaling until 1989, so I don’t have any written record of those moments. His birth also predates the ubiquitous phones that digitally capture every moment. So with a little help from my wife, it’s all going to have to come from memory, which thankfully, is still pretty good.

The morning before his birth, my wife and I were sitting in a rental house in Ft. Wayne, trying to come up with names for whoever would show up that afternoon. She was full term, but he didn’t get the memo. He hadn’t dropped or turned. An x-ray revealed that he as sitting upright with his legs crossed. So the doctor scheduled a caesarian section.

Our house struggled to keep out the bone-chilling Indiana winter as we talked through our short list of names. We were fans of the TV series “Spencer for Hire,” so Spencer was a possibility. In the end, Adam won out. It just sounded right. But what about a middle name? Another biblical name? There are plenty of them. Paging through the gospels we came across Nathaniel. We liked how that sounded. Done.

But what it it’s a girl? Back then, gender reveal happened on your birthday. I asked my wife if she remembered any female names we considered. She didn’t, and neither do I. We had a fifty-fifty chance of not needing one. We took our chances.

At the hospital, while the nurses prepped my wife, I put on a yellow gown, cap, and gloves. When she was ready, a nurse ushered me into surgery, pointed to a stool, and said, “Sit there.” It all happened very quickly. Surrounded by the doctor and nurses, I couldn’t see much until the nurse briefly showed me my son, and then took him to clean him up. My wife had a little trouble breathing due to the spinal anesthesia. But I had to trust they would take good care of her as they quickly ushered me out of the room.

I got to see my wife and we got to hold Adam about an hour later. My in-laws came up that night and got to see him as well. He was a little jaundiced from blood type incompatibility, so he spent the next five days basking under a UV light in a tiny bikini diaper and miniature sunglasses. My wife was able to stay at the hospital with him the whole time.

When it was time to go home, he exploded, as babies often do, ruining the only outfit we brought for him. So he made the trip home wrapped up in a bunch of blankets.

Any birth is miraculous. Holding a new life in your arms is powerful, especially when it’s your child. But the other miracle is that we didn’t have to pay a penny out of pocket for anything related to his birth. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Our seminary-sponsored health insurance cost us $100 a month and covered everything.

So to the best of our recollection, that’s the story of our oldest child’s birth. He’s married with four kids of his own. We’ve got hundreds of pictures of those little ones!

Posted in Life, Moments of grace

What’s the deal with birthdays?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

A granddaughter will turn two in a few days. In preparation, my daughter (her aunt) called my son (the dad) to let him know a present was on the way. The birthday gift overheard the conversation, smiled and said, “I wait for present!”

First birthday? You’re oblivious. Mom and dad will have a party, but you won’t understand or remember it. A year later you’ll be up to speed. For the past month or so, everyone’s been reminding you, “It’s almost your birthday!” They’ve been asking, “How old will you be? Grown-ups have helped you master the art of hold up two fingers and proudly saying, “Two.” And somehow you’ve caught on to the reality that there will be presents. You’ve become a little consumer.

Big birthday celebrations every year for every child are common now. Some people spend a whole week observing their birthday. When did birthday celebrations begin?

To my surprise, the birthday celebration is a recent idea in the United States, from the mid-nineteenth century.1 Before that, birthdays were for the rich or the nobility. Everyone knew when George Washington’s birthday was. For everyone else, the day passed unnoticed.

The change came with industrialization. With clocks on the wall and watches in their pockets, people became more aware of time. Trains and streetcars ran on schedules and workers punched in and out of their factory shifts. Sensitive to the passage of time, students were separated by grades. Doctors treated older patients differently. Talk of being on time, ahead of time, and behind the times entered our conversations. Age – and birthdays – became significant.

Cake dates back to the Roman empire. Candles are a German tradition. Birthday gifts grew out of old fashioned western capitalism.

It’s a mixed bag. Little ones can’t wait for their next birthday. Some adults stop celebrating as if ignoring the date will prevent aging. My birthday is clustered with a daughter and two granddaughters in July, so it’s always fun. Giant cake for four? Sweet! Four cakes? Even sweeter.

1https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/11/history-birthday-celebrations/620585/

Posted in advent, Advent devotions, Devotions

2020 Advent devotion: She gave birth

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Live and in person” Advent devotion for December 19, 2020. Read Luke 2:7 and Psalm 84.

“She gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).

This is it. It’s the big moment. After a stunning annunciation, nine months of pregnancy and a trip to Bethlehem, Mary gives birth to the Spirit-filled Son of God, who is destined to assume the throne of David, reigning over a kingdom that will no end. Mary has contractions, her water breaks, the head appears, a baby cries, the cord is cut, the infant is cleaned up and swaddled. Just like so many other babies, Christ the Savior is born.

There are so many things that can go wrong throughout pregnancy and birth. In our world, it involves prenatal vitamins, doctor appointments, ultrasounds, blood tests and heart-rate monitoring. High-risk pregnancy? There’s even more.

A lot of things go right, too. A tiny heart begins to beat. Internal organs develop. Tiny fingers and toes grow, including unique fingerprints and footprints. Hair grows. The unborn child moves and stretches, impatiently awaiting a birthday! Knit together in a mother’s womb, each child is fearfully and wonderfully made!

That tiny voice once spoke the universe into existence. Those tiny hands once formed the man from the dust. Those tiny feet would soon leave footprints everywhere from Galilee to Calvary. Those little fingers would one day open eyes to see, ears to hear and mouths to speak. So many lives will be changed because Mary gave birth to her firstborn son, Jesus the Christ.

This year, Christmas seems to be the destination. Liturgically, we reach the end of four weeks of Advent. Commercially, we’re wrapping up a longer-than-ever two-months of decorating and shopping. Physically we are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel of a long year of distancing and quarantine.

Don’t forget that Christmas is actually the beginning. Soon, people would begin to hear Jesus teach with authority. They would begin to see his power as he commanded the demons, the wind and the waves. They would begin to witness his compassion for the harassed and hurting. They would begin to understand that he came to die and rise again. Christmas would indeed be the beginning of a new creation for all who embraced Jesus as the Christ.

There were no baby showers. No gender reveal celebrations. No cute nursery decorations. No car seat to install. No maternity (or paternity) leave.

Just a birth. Just a son. But what a gift! And what a Savior!

Lord, don’t ever let me forget the miracle and wonder of birth and especially your birth. Amen.

Posted in church, Connecticut, Ministry

Thirty-three

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My son turns thirty-three next week. What do I remember about being thirty-three?

Wow, it’s a stretch. That was 1990. We were living in Connecticut, where I had received my first call as pastor of a small rural church, Prince of Peace, in Coventry, about an hour east of Hartford. Our kids, four and three, were attending the preschool. We had two labs, Gabriel and Rachel, yellow and chocolate, respectively. A big parsonage, probably 3,000 sq. ft. on four acres of land next door to the church. No AC. Only really got hot about 2 weeks each summer. I’m sure my wife had started her nursing classes at UConn by then.

The world wide web was brand new in 1990. No internet for us. No cell phones. No cable TV. We got all our news from TV and the Hartford Courant. Other than the bible, I only had a books I accumulated at seminary for my sermon and bible class preparation. What a contrast with the almost infinite resources available to me now!

I had a computer that I used for word processing, with a 5-1/4″ floppy drive, that I got from my brother, I think. I had a dot matrix printer, too. The church had a stencil duplicator to make weekly worship folders and monthly newsletters. We didn’t have to make too many though. About seventy gathered for worship each week.

I remember getting up very early on a Sunday morning and walking across the yard to the church, where I would practice my sermon a number of times. I would then come back home to help get everyone ready for church at 9:00, followed by bible class and Sunday School at 10:30. I think I taught a midweek bible class, too, but I can’t remember.

It was a very stable community. Not too many people moved to Coventry. Occasional visitors at church. New families joined from time to time. I still remember many of the families who welcomed us and helped me learn how to be a pastor those first few years: Jeram, Sans, Thurber, Garay, Dollock, Ausberger, Hamernik.

I still did quite a bit of running back then, but didn’t race much. I remember hitting softballs out into the yard for the labs to chase. I always wore out before they did. We let them run wherever. When I whistled in the evening, you could see them coming through the field from a half mile away. We had two cats for a while, Fred and Ginger, who also spent a lot of time outside. I’d yell, “Kittykittykittykittykittykitty” and they would come scrambling in from a tree.

We burned a lot of wood in a wood burning stove in the winter. I’d get people to bring over parts of fallen oak trees, and I would split and stack it in the summer time. I absolutely loved swinging the axe through those logs.

The kids and I would often walk down the road where a very small farm had goats and horses near the fence that we could pet. A short drive would bring us to the UConn barns, where we would walk through and visit cows, goats, sheep and horses.

I don’t know if I have any journals from back then. I have to rummage through the box of notebooks I have at church. I don’t even remember if or how much I was journaling at that time. Not as much as I do now. The memories are mostly in my head and in our photographs. But if I find some, I’ll let you know.

Posted in Grace, Life

Happy birthday, Dad!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Just got off the phone with my dad, who turned 86 today. He’s doing great, the snow’s all melted in Philadelphia, his crocuses are up and beautiful, and baseball season is just around the corner. Life is good.

The problem with living that long is that you outlive a lot of people. My mom’s already been gone for five years, he’s outlived all his brothers and sisters, many of his good friends from church and a lot of neighbors. He’s still got a good church family, a few of my cousins to keep an eye on him, and the Phillies who have been very worth watching these last few years.

My brother and I send him sermons and he really likes that. When you have a CD to listen to, you can go back and listen to the parts you didn’t understand the first time. He never got to hear me preach that much over the years, so this is something he really enjoys. Adam is taking his first preaching class at the seminary, so I’ll have him preach this summer, and then my dad can hear yet another generation in the pulpit. That will be cool. Not just because I can get a day off, but because I have a feeling Adam is going to be very good in the pulpit. That’s my unbiased, objective opinion, of course.