Tag: son

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

A happy ending? Not yet.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Juri Gianfrancesco on Unsplash

“Hey, Bill!”

I turned my head and saw a young man coming out of the coffee shop behind me. My face must have announced, “Who are you?” so he called out, “It’s J.”

I’m good with names and don’t forget faces, but he looked a lot different than the last time I saw him. His head was shaved and his beard was about three inches long. Was it his eyes? Or his smile? Suddenly I recognized him. It had been at least two years since I had talked with him and his wife.

“Wow,” I said, “How have you been?”

He kept smiling but I could tell from the look in his eyes that it was going to be tough to answer that question.

“Well,” he began, “J. (his wife) and I had a son. His name is Josiah. He is amazing.”

He paused and I had the feeling his story was about to take a turn for the worse.

“After Josiah was born, J. had postpartum depression. She was in the hospital for a month. Then she had a really bad day, and she took her life.”

J.’s words hung in the air. I had no words. All I could do was look into his eyes, listening, trying to imagine how much strength it took to speak about that loss.

I thought about the young couple who had wandered into our church one Sunday morning. I remembered their hospitality when they invited me to their apartment for supper. I thought about the baby who would never know his mother. I wondered how J. was dealing with a life no one envisions.

I asked, “So, how are you?”

It had been six months since her death. J.’s chiropractic practice was doing well. He was working out at the gym two times a day six times a week. He had a strong network of doctors and pastors who were walking with him through this chapter of his life. At least for that moment, he was doing well.

Then he said, “Oh, and I have to tell you. If you have a chance, try the egg, ham, and gouda breakfast sandwich here. It’s is amazing.”

I know, a bit off topic. But I was still in shock, so I went with it. “Does that fit in with your nutritional guidance?” J. was bit into holistic health, especially eating right.

He chuckled and said, “Well, my bodybuilding workouts require 4,500 calories a day. This might not be the best, but it helps me towards that goal.”

I want to reach out to J. and learn more about his journey as a mourning husband and single father. I’ve written a few hundred words here. But he could write a whole book, right?

A happy ending? Not yet. But you never know.

Posted in Grace, Life, Ministry

My son’s first sermon

Posted on by William Douthwaite

This past Sunday my son Adam preached his first sermon at our church. He just finished his first year of classes at the seminary, so he’s getting some experience in front of a live audience. We’ve been here in Palm Coast for 14 years, so this is basically the church he’s grown up in. I had hoped that preaching in front of friendly faces, who have been supporting and praying for him would make for a positive start. I was right. And I was impressed. I had read his sermon ahead of time and given a few suggestions, and the final product was excellent (check it out here). He was poised, relaxed, confident and well-spoken. All this in a room where the AC and the sound system weren’t working since the power in the neighborhood went out the second he began preaching!

As a parent, I may have been more nervous than he was. I wanted him to have an enjoyable, positive first experience in the pulpit (even though he didn’t actually use the pulpit). I wanted him to be himself, not feel pressured to be like me. I wanted him to relax knowing that God’s work never returns void, always accomplishing what he intends. By the grace of God, all my parent prayers were answered. The only thing is, now I have a hard act to follow this Sunday!

I’ve searched my mind for memories of preaching my first sermon. No luck so far. I know where I was: Messiah Lutheran Church in Wolcottville, IN, my second-year field work congregation. And I believe I have the manuscript of that sermon. And I know I survived the experience. But I fear the memory has faded, and there is no recording. I suspect I didn’t do nearly as well as Adam did, though.

One memory I do have comes from my early years of ministry in Connecticut. I clearly remember Adam, age 4 and his sister, age 3, sitting at the dining room table one day, each with an open Bible and a page filled with scribbling. When I asked what they were doing, they replied, “We’re writing our sermons.” We may even have a photo of that moment.

I hope those present realized they were getting a chance to see the next generation of pastors being prepared by our seminaries. Our professors are doing a great job! But I also hope they see that they play a big part in preparing the next generation of church workers, too. God certainly uses the many years of prayer, encouragement, grace, example, and teaching of a Christian congregation to prepare and send out workers into his harvest fields. It certainly is a privilege — as a parent, a pastor, and a member — to be a part of that process.