Celebrating The Arrival of #TeamWilliams Newest Member: Sylvia Ann

On October 21^st at 2055 EDT, (8:55PM) our lovely daughter, Sylvia Ann, entered into this world, wide-eyed and alert. She weighed seven pounds two ounces and was nineteen and three-quarters inches long. She is beautiful, and we are so very grateful to finally meet her. Jamie and I are incredibly excited to have her in our lives, and I feel like we have been sharing tears and joyful smiles with this little miracle from the moment we first laid eyes on her.

We are so impressed and grateful for all of the staff at MonGeneral—they have gone above and beyond in every way!l! One of our dear friends, Abby Hills, who is also a nurse on the floor, stopped in to visit us yesterday morning before traveling out of town to celebrate her dad’s birthday, and our midwives (Rhonda Conley and Stephanie Lowe) were incredibly supportive and offered sage wisdom and counsel throughout Jamie’s pregnancy, and they were both patient and encouraging as Jamie moved through the stages of labor.

Our first nurse, Jennifer Bender, stayed with us over two hours extra to make sure we were all set and this little bundle of joy made it out with no problems!!! It meant so much to us to have such strong professional support and encouragement all the way through Jamie’s labor. It was an added bonus to have Jennifer present because she also taught Jamie’s lactation class this summer. Providentially, we had previously met and spent time with the entire team who were walking Jamie and Sylvia through the home stretch. Throughout the time they all brought a superior level of care and encouragement, and they were as excited as we were to find out whether Sylvia was a boy or a girl upon her arrival!!!

And the team who have taken us through our stay have been incredible as well. Kylie, our nurse through the night, has just recently come back to work, and she really did an awesome job coaching Jamie through breast-feeding fundamentals. Sylvia was able to enjoy her first meal from Mom just a few hours into her arrival. And this morning, Nurse Stephanie Smith, took the baton from Kylie and has carried our training to another level. She’s teaching us the ropes around swaddling, using a Boppy pillow, and (for me) how to change a poopy diaper.

This whole journey has been absolutely incredible, and as of my writing of this post, Sylvia has only been outsider her mom’s womb for a few hours. She has been so curious and taking in this whole new world with fresh eyes. She is already teaching me so much!

And Jamie, she is such a warrior! She went through the whole process of labor completely focused and calm. I know a lot of people compare running a marathon to giving birth, but as an outside observer who has done one and will never do the other, the consistent thread between each of them that I have witnessed in Jamie’s life is this. Each of us are capable of far more than we realize, and when I think about Jamie’s labor and delivery (and her first marathon), I feel like I am witnessing a deeper awareness and awakening of all that she is capable of.

And as I pray for my daughter and her journey on this earth, I pray that God will awaken that same deep understanding of what is possible for her, and that He will guide me and Jamie with the wisdom and the discipline to nurture the development those gifts and possibilities.

Jamie and I are overcome by a rich sense of gratitude for this entire journey together, and we are excited for this next chapter of our lives with Sylvia. We are grateful for the prayers and support of so many friends—they have truly sustained us, and we know those prayers are a gift. My first words, before the traditional announcement of, “It’s a girl!” were “She’s beautiful!” I pray that she will always have a deep abiding since of how beautiful and loved she is.

Sylvia is beginning a life that, God willing, will see her grow to be a compassionate servant leader, a faithful steward of resources, and caring and considerate follower of the way of Jesus. We have found ourselves praying often for her to know God and to bring glory to His name, that she would go so much farther than we have in our own faith journeys, and that others would be blessed through the life this she leads. As we continue this journey forward we pray that just as we have prayed over the course of our marriage and relationship, that God would give us the discipline and wisdom we need to steward the gifts He has given. May we all faithfully and graciously walk together in the path that Love has set before us.

Reflection: Rend Collective Concert, Joy, And Music

Last Thursday, Jamie and I took an impromptu trip to Chestnut Ridge Church in Morgantown, West Virginia to see a band that our good friend Hallé had told us about a few years back, Rend Collective. Little did we realize when Hallé told us about this Irish folk band that their music was already a regular part of our weekly worship gatherings among our local faith community. 

As we arrived, I found myself thinking about how music has changed over the last hundred years, and even over the last ten years. Thanks to apps like Spotify, Pandora, and Apple Music we can stream a wide array of music on our computers and mobile devices wherever we go. I remember when I acquired my first Mac, I was so impressed that I could take all of my compact discs and place them on my computer. I remember as a small child being tremendously excited about listening to eight-tracks with my parents at home, and by the time I was in junior high, I was able to listen to cassettes with my Walkman as I walked around the neighborhood, or even around the house. Mine was one with the ability to record, play radio music, and cassettes, and I can remember having a ton of fun listening to tunes.

But this wasn't always the way music was available. It's kind of hard to fathom because nowadays our favorite artists' music is readily accessible. But there was once a time when music could only be experienced live--our only way to experience music was to go to a concert, or to make it ourselves. As I listened to the band, they invited us to join in singing, clapping, snapping fingers and dancing. They were inviting us to experience the joy of music. Music is quite the gift!

As much as I enjoy listening to music of various genres, I tend to believe that music is best rendered as something we experience. I believe it was John Cage who said that once we record it, it ceases to be music--it is not able to be experienced in the same way as when it is live. It is the energy of a past moment that may be powerful as a memory, but it is a far different experience than making or creating music in the moment. 

As we enjoyed the evening with the band's performance, and as the members of the band switched rapidly among instruments that even included garbage cans, they were encouraging us to enter into the joy of song, singing praises to the Creator of the universe, and not allowing our cynic or our inner critic to rob us of laughter and joy. At one point in one of their songs, the lights went out and they were wearing panda heads. Later that evening they talked about how the Bible references both fruit of the Spirit and gifts of the Spirit and that seriousness does not make an appearance in either list. Making music invites us into the realm of joy, and they felt that panda heads while performing were a good reminder to the people who joined them at the concert to not fill their lives with seriousness. 

Growing up, even though I don't remember either of my parents playing an instrument, they encouraged us to sing, to play music, and to be joyful. It was never a command from them, it was more of a simple way of life for all of us. At some point in time before I was born, my dad and one of my uncles used to drive a garbage truck. They would regularly find treasures along the side of the road that people were ridding themselves of. One of those treasures was an electric organ. I have many vivid memories of plugging that organ in, and listening to a fan begin to spin; the keys on the organ forced the air through to create notes of music. Dad had also acquired a couple of song books for this organ that were numerically coded, so I could follow the numbers to play songs. This was before the advent of synthesizers and keyboards in the 80s. I don't believe anyone in our family ever became a piano player, but I can remember playing Christmas carols and other songs as Dad made home-made pizzas or Mom was making some meal for us all to enjoy. 

Even on my tribal grounds, we never really listened to recorded music. We made music. Our tribal drum was like a heart beat. Our ancient songs connected us with past generations, and brought forth traditions to a new generation. Every gathering had a time for music and a time for folks to circle around a fire as drumming and singing would begin and carry on often late into the evenings. Even during times of sadness, singing, drumming, and dancing, listening and creating music that echoed through the hills had (and still has) a power to move us toward deep joy, peace, and hope. 

Lots of memories came to my mind thanks to the experience of a concert with Rend Collective for sure. Music is such a huge gift, and, while Jamie and I definitely enjoy listening to music as we go through our days, there's nothing quite like experiencing it live with others, or creating music of our own. Even as I write this, I feel a tug toward spending a little more time during my daily and weekly rhythm singing, dancing, and playing guitar. Nothing like a little live tune amid the rhythm of life!

As we go about our days, our weeks, and our years, may we each take time to make music and invite others to join us in joy-filled songs. May we create, build, and share in the gift the King of the universe has given us in living amid music! 

Weeping With Tears of Joy

You know, sometimes one can get so overwhelmed with emotion that words don't fully express. I wonder if tears are some type of biological response to being so saturated with emotion that it leaks out in salt water drops from one's eyes. Maybe tears are liquid emotion.

So lately I've found myself weeping a lot with gratitude. I look around me and I see blessings that are unfathomable, and I'm speechless. Even as I've started writing this little post, I've been weeping.

You see, I've been so privileged to be able to do work that I love, and to do this work together with my friends. And it's happened for years. My friends are so special and so precious to me, and I love it when we can do things together.

The photo above was taken three weeks ago when a group of friends gathered together to assemble and mail out packages to the many people who have begun financially supporting the work of Nuru. We had a full evening of hard work, joy, and laughter, and I treasure times like that.  I also think about what is happening as a result of nights like that. Literally thousands of people's lives have been changed forever.

My friend Jake was talking with a group of people about tears too. Jake had recently shown a video from Nuru called "I AM NURU" to a group of Kenyan leaders in Kuria. As the video was playing, tears began to well up in the eyes of the Kenyan staff. Jake apologized to Philip Mohochi, the chairman of the Community Develop Community for the video because he was afraid it had upset these Kenyan leaders.

Philip looked at Jake and said, "There's no need to be sorry. We are not crying because we are sad. We are crying because we are in awe that so many people who live half-way around the world care this much about us here in Kuria!"

It is a beautiful thing indeed when people give of their time, talents, and resources to care for others.

And here I am in Morgantown, WV weeping with tears of joy for the opportunity I've been given with my friends to be hope, to be light, and to be Nuru.

Blurred, Filled With Challenges, But . . .

Rolling across I70 from Morgantown to Columbus, I took this photo near dusk. I was a little frustrated with the way it turned out, but then I considered it a good reflection on much of the day. This post is a mixed bag of frustration from daily challenges, applause for great service, and some perspective that has been flooding my mind.

This morning I woke up slightly before 6AM (which has been pretty typical as of late). My good friend Derek and I had a pretty busy day so I felt it was imperative to get started early. Looking back on our lofty goals for the day, we were trying to do too much (probably the anthem of my life), and it took its toll a bit. Looking back, the day feels like a blur, but after a few hours on the road, I feel like I'm seeing a little more clearly. (Sometimes life is like that).

I won't bore you with the details of all of the challenges, I'm sure your day was filled with challenges too. One of the biggest for me happened around 11:45. I was cutting paper with one of those big paper cutters, and I let my left thumb hang absently over the guard. I swung down, and cut half-way thru my thumb and nail. I'm so thankful that I reacted quickly enough that I didn't finish the swing of the cutter or I might be severely disadvantaged if I ever needed to hitchhike. I'm not sure anybody fully realized what happened when I said I cut my thumb. As I saw the size of the cut, I thought, NOW my day has challenges. I had deadlines to meet and a long drive ahead, and my thumb was cut. Great!

Another friend sprayed the cut with Saline, I threw some tissues on it, and hopped in the car and drove to the local urgent care center. The receptionist was understanding, and filled out my patient information sheet for me. My biggest challenge was signing paperwork because I'm left handed, and it was my left thumb I had cut. Amazingly, I was able to stay focused throughout the time. It was as though I had been given a supernatural acumen for sharing the details of my injury and the concerns aroused when I saw what I had done to myself.

When the physician came in, he very quickly assessed the fastest and most pain-free approach to sealing the cut. Because it was cut into the nail bed and not completely through it, he was able to use steri-strips instead of stitches (which would have been very painful) to hold my thumb together. WHat was most amazing is that I was out of the place in less than forty-five minutes. The physican was Dr. David Anderson, and he and the staff of Cheat Lake Urgent Care did an incredible job getting me taken care of and back out quickly. I thought I would be spending my afternoon being treated, but instead I was able to be back at it quickly thanks to their quality work.

ANd that brings me to perspective. Today at times I felt overwhelmed, stretched too thin, and up against the wall with accomplishing a litany of tasks. It was strange how the feelings of self-doubt, frustration at cutting my thumb, and a number of other small set-backs that felt significant seemed to eat at me.

And yet, as I consider my lot and my challenges, they really pale in comparison to so many in our world. They pale in comparison to the people more numerous than I can count who spent today suffering in desperate hunger. They pale in comparison to the millions of women and children who have no idea what the word freedom means because they are slaves who are bought and sold for less than the cost of a tank of gas. They pale in comparison to the multitudes who are fighting a battle against an uncontrolled growth of mutated cells in their body, and who are ingesting poison in hopes of killing those cells.

When I think about how good I have it, it makes me wonder how I could ever get so frustrated. But I think that comes about when our lives become blurry. When we allow our life to become blurry, we lose perspective, molehills become mountains, and minor inconveniences become grave injustices.

I don't know what your day was like, but I hope these words may provide some salve to soothe, heal, and refresh you in your journey.

Life is much better than we might realize in our blurred and challenging moments, and even when it seems filled with challenges, there is joy to be found.

Remembering Mom Three Years Later

My best friend in the whole world, Willie wrote and recorded this song on youtube to honor my mom shortly after she went to be with Jesus on June 6, 2007. It's hard to believe it's been three years since she laughed with us, or told stories about our family and our heritage, hugged us, or shared her wisdom.

This morning I went through some old blog posts and journals because sometimes time seems to take the vividness out of focus. As I began reading and watching Willie's video I wept. I wept because of the brokenness we experience in this world, and the sense of loss that we all feel on this side of the veil when a loved one leaves this world.

It's good to take time to remember. I remember two years ago, on the one year anniversary of my mom's leaving of this world to be with Jesus that I made the decision to cut my hair, and leave it short. I remember also taking a day to be away and remember, reflect, grieve, and rejoice. Rejoicing at someone's death could seem a bit morbid, hateful, or sadistic. I don't rejoice my mom's death in the sense that many think of it. I rejoice that she is free from cancer, from diabetes, from arthritis, and from pain. I rejoice that she is in the presence of Jesus, the One who loves her (and us) with a love deeper than we can even imagine on this earth.

I still grieve too. At relay for life this year, I found myself choking down tears when I saw her luminaries. They were just some candles in paper bags with my mom's name written on them, but they elicited so much emotion from me. When I saw her name and in memory, I think every memory I had of her flooded my mind all at once. I think it started with the relay for life in 2007 for which my sister and I organized a team. My mind went to the hopes we had back then that my mom would beat cancer, and that she would walk a lap as a survivor in 2008 like my uncles and my sister were able to do. Then I found myself confronted with the reality that I will never see her again in this life, and that made me sad. Not only because she is my mother, but because she is also one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever known.

As I sit here reflecting, I can't help but be filled with hope as well. My mom, will be better than I could ever remember her when I see her again. She will be more beautiful, more loving, and more filled with joy. But that day is not now.

And so now, I strive to imitate the qualities I saw in her and loved while in this world. And it's ironic, because even those qualities were just shadows of the fullness that we find in God himself. My friend Trey once said something like this--when we see or experience something that gives us great joy, it's like we are seeing the handiwork of God, and that God is shining through that thing.

Aa the writer of the book of Hebrews reminds us, "Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith."

May we all cherish the opportunities that are given to us on this earth to allow God to shine through us, to bring others joy, and to love deeply.