We've got 4.5" of snow in our backyard and it's still falling! After a little breakfast, the snow clothes went on and the four oldest Ferrins headed outside. Here are a couple videos of Sarah and Caleb sledding in the driveway...
...and a little photo album of our backyard snow adventure.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise;
give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.
Psalm 100:4-5 (NIV)
Thanksgiving morning, 2002. The first day Kari and I woke up in our new house. We had waited three and a half years for that day. And it was finally here. Just us. Kari, me, and three-month-old Sarah. And we were thankful.
Thanksgiving morning 2004. Sarah was two - and running around the house as our morning entertainment. Kari nursed two-month-old Caleb. Life was full. Life was rich. And we were thankful.
Thanksgiving morning 2008. I am sitting in my living room. Alone. (I'm sure in a few minutes that will all change.) I can hear my six-year-old girl and four-year-old boy playing above me, making each other laugh. And I am thankful.
Three-month-old Hannah sleeps in her crib. She is the addition we didn't even know we wanted and now can't imagine life any other way. She smiles wide and often. Yesterday she shared her first real laugh. And I am thankful.
My bride is asleep as well. She's already been up feeding Hannah, and preparing her famous Limpa bread for a family dinner we will enjoy several hours from now. For now...she rests. She is a fantastic mother, a gifted teacher, a devoted friend, and a partner, lover, confidante, encourager, and bringer-of-joy to my life. And I am thankful.
Lord Jesus, on this Thanksgiving Day, I will enter Your gates with thanksgiving. I will enter Your courts with praise. I will give thanks to You. I will praise Your name. I will proclaim that You are good. I will declare that Your love endures forever. I will rest in Your faithfulness that continues through all generations. Amen.
Here's a pic of the Ferrin Five last Friday night. So nice that the rain held off starting about 4pm. Cousins came over. Friends came over. Aunts, Uncles, and a Mimi came over. Good times were had by all.
A kitty cat, a train conductor, and a Seahawks cheerleader (complete with pom poms). I love these guys!
"Daddy, I just wanted to let you know that I have a loose tooth. I love you. Goodnight.”
That was the voicemail Sarah left for me last night. She was so excited. At six years old, she’s already had a few friends lose some teeth. She has been waiting for the day. Longing for the day. Chomping at the bit (hee hee).
And now that day is within view. Once a tooth gets loose, there’s no turning back. It will get looser. It will fall out. And my beautiful daughter will have a smile that is a little goofier looking…but also just a little bigger than the day before.
In case you didn't know, the Hot Mama of the Ferrin Five is turning...well...that's none of your business...today. She's actually upstairs napping right now while Hannah naps. (Always a good plan.)
If you're reading this and have her email feel free to flood Kari's inbox with birthday greetings.
Okay, so Hannah and Sarah aren't the only ones with big things going on. Our Big Boy (I'd get in trouble if I called him my Little Guy) started preschool today. He's in the City Kids program at City Church, which is literally six blocks from our house. Caleb was so excited. In fact, as we pulled into our parking spot and turned off the van, he thrust his hands into the air and said, "I'm a City Kid now!!!"
I think the teachers know that this is harder on the parents than the kids, so they let us stay the first day. We headed into class, met the Teacher Susie and Teacher Monica, read a few books, played with some pretty sweet toys, and painted a "homework bag."
And what would preschool be without some "circle time." Songs were sung, hand motions were practiced, and the day ended with a stamp on the hand - or both hands if you wanted. Caleb loved every minute.
Tomorrow we have to just drop him off and let him go to school by himself. Just him. Without us. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair! And yet, somehow, it just seems right.
The bus is coming! The bus is coming!
Sure enough. There it was - heading down our street. The big, yellow bus that would change our lives forever. I'm sure the driver and the assistant she had for the first day are nice enough people, but they were there to take away my Peanut.
Seems like a blink since Sarah was as tiny as her week-old sister, 
Hannah. And there she was, climbing aboard the bus, turning toward us for the obligatory wave, yet clearly more interested in what was to come. The thud of the closing doors. The hiss of the breaks releasing. And off she went. The first day of Kindergarten.
I am proud. I am excited for her. I am sad. I am scared for what she will face. I am angry at the kid on the playground who will say something that will hurt her tender heart. I am confident she is ready for this next phase of life. I am overjoyed to see the twinkle in her eye as she talks about "her school." I am thrilled at 3:01pm when she comes through the door of her school and runs into my arms shouting "Daddy!" In my arms - right where she's supposed to be.
Oh yeah...and on the walk home when I asked her to tell me her three favorite things about her first day of Kindergarten, the first word out of her mouth was, "Recess!"
That's my girl.
Kari and I figured we didn't have enough craziness in our lives this week, so we decided that 24 hours (almost exactly) after leaving the hospital, we would pack our three kids (still feels wonderfully weird to type that) in our minivan and head over the mountains to Lake Chelan. Lake Chelan for Labor Day Weekend has been a decades-long tradition for Kari's family.
We headed into the road trip thinking we'd be stopping every hour to tend to our 3-day-old daughter. Instead, Hannah literally slept the entire way, even during a coffee/potty break for her parents and siblings.
Of course, we still have tomorrow's trip home for her to turn the tables on us. But for now, we're just enjoying the downtime with family - sleeping little, and eating more than we should. (But it's sooooo yummy!)
We have survived Night #2! She ate well, slept well (as well as a 2-day-old baby can sleep) and the doctor has said we can go home. As I type, the nurse is taking the IV out of Hannah's foot (ouch!) and then will prepare the discharge papers.
Thank you for following us on this journey. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for visiting us. Thank you for offering free babysitting for the next 10-12 years. (Hee hee)
I'll be adding more pictures, stories, prayer requests, and crazy happenings in the days, weeks, and years to come. So keep checking back with The Ferrin Five!
Things started out rough. From 10pm to 1pm Hannah would eat, but only for a few minutes at a time. Then she'd zonk out. Of course, we were exhausted so we were happy to wrap her up in the "baby burrito" and lay her down. Unfortunately, during those first three hours, she wouldn't lay down for more than five minutes. 
Up. Down. Feed. Wrap. Cry. Repeat.
Finally she had a really good feeding just before 2pm and then the nurse came in to check her vitals (which were perfect!). Then she said the sentence that helped turn the tide.
Hey. Things are a little slow. If you'd like me to take Hannah for an hour or two, I'd be happy to.
She took Hannah. The room went quiet. We drifted to sleep. And all of heaven rejoiced. (At least that's what I dreamed.)
About 4:45am she ate well again, and then slept in my arms in the reclining chair from 5-8am.
Sleep is a beautiful thing.
Hannah is about 15 hours old right now and doing extremely well. 
We've had heaps of visitors today and talked to lots of people on the phone. Hannah and Kari have both had their fevers disappear, so we thank you for your prayers.
Sarah and Caleb got to meet and hold their baby sister for the first time. Very fun to see their curiosity and excitement - and a hint of bewilderment.
We're hoping to have a pretty low-key evening, with some naps, uploading some more pictures - check back soon - and maybe watching a movie.
Thanks for taking this journey with us. And pray that all goes well the next couple days so we can head home on Thursday morning.
After 21 hours in the hospital Hannah GraceAnne Ferrin was born at 3:22am on Tuesday, August 26. She is a gorgeous, perfect, very big girl. Twenty one and a half inches long and – are you ready for this? – 9lb 7oz! Mommy and baby are both doing well, although they both had fevers at birth. Because of this, they want to keep us in the hospital for 48 hours, which will have us heading home – God willing – Thursday afternoon.
Thank you so much for all your prayers. We can’t wait for you to meet Hannah!
Rejoicing in the miracle of life!
Keith & Kari
Well, I guess Hannah didn't like the idea of having her birthday on the 25th. Or maybe she wanted her birthday exactly a week after her big sister. In any event, we're past midnight, so Hannah will - God willing - be born today, August 26th.
Things are moving along. Most likely this baby will be born while you were sleeping. I'm also guessing this will be the last time I use the word "sleeping" for quite a while.
ZZZzzzzzzzzzz.......
Things are progressing…just very sloooooooooowly. No need to worry, Hannah is doing well. Kari is doing well. Please just pray that Hannah comes safely – and specifically – that we can avoid a C-section.
We just can’t wait to meet this little miracle!
Waiting…and hoping…
It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the contractions have started in earnest. Kari's doing well and we're praying she goes soon so our doctor can be here for the delivery! Please pray with us...
At 7am we dropped Sarah & Caleb off at Aunt JJ's and Uncle Doug's and had JJ snap the last photo of us as a family of four! 
Unbelievable! By 7:30 we were in our room with a wonderful nurse named Karyn. Dr. Wells came by about 8am and said everything looks good and she'll check back about lunch time - unless she hears from us. :) And now we wait...
So...we just got a call from the hospital and they’ve schedule our inducement for 7:15am tomorrow (Monday)! So…we’ll be dropping off the kids with Kari’s sister and heading to the hospital bright and early.
Pray for a smooth labor and a healthy baby girl. We can’t wait – and Sarah and Caleb are so excited!
With joy and anticipation …Keith (Hannah's daddy!)
Best friends. They may drive each other crazy, but they sure do love each other. (Even when Sarah's making Caleb pretend to be a kitty cat, or Caleb's tackling Sarah for no reason.)
It happens to everyone. The death of your first pet. Today was the day for Max Ferrin. Sarah and Caleb's beloved beta fish. He's lived with us for the better part of two years. Right there on the kids' bathroom counter. Hey Max. What's up Max. Just brushing my teeth Max. Gotta go potty Max...don't watch. And now he's gone.
Right before dinner we headed out on the other side of our creek. I had shovel in hand. Sarah carried a small popcicle cross with "Max Ferrin" written upon the crossbeam. Caleb had "the deceased" inside a small box, inside a Ziploc baggy. A hole was dug. Max was placed ever so gently inside. Dirt was filled in. The cross was poked into the dirt. And we bowed to say a prayer.
Thank You Jesus for the honor of having such a wonderful pet. Max was a great fish. We hope he has fun in fish heaven. Amen.
Immediately upon the word Amen, Caleb says, So...can we get a snake pet now? To which Sarah replies, Well, maybe we should get a frog or a turtle. And thus, the end of Max's funeral.
[Heavy sigh]
No...the baby isn't here yet.
No...there haven't been many contractions.
No...we don't have a clue when she'll come.
Yes...we can't wait.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
"The little Gospel promises me personal salvation and eternal life. But the robust Gospel doesn’t stop there; it also promises a new society and a new creation.” - Scott McKnight (The Eight Marks of the Gospel - article in Christianity Today, 2/29/08)
I don't know about you, but the robust Gospel sounds a bit more appealing than the little Gospel...and a bit more like something Jesus would say...
I had a pretty cool experience last Sunday. I was speaking at a small church in Seattle that had two services - a "traditional" service, and a "contemporary" service. I've found that generally means that there is more gray hair at one than the other. My cynical hat was on nice and tight as - sure enough - I turned out to be one of the youngest people in the first service. The only people younger were the youth pastor and two boys (probably 8-12 years old) that were there with their parents.
We got a couple songs...er...I mean hymns...into the service when they took their take-a-moment-and-greet-each-other break. Being the only person in the front row, I turned around and greeted...nobody. Which was good, because it gave me time to witness something truly wonderful. As I stood there, two or three of the gray-haired worshippers made beelines to the young boys and hugged them, greeted them, and made them feel like the two most valuable people in the room. Being young boys, they tried to play it "cool," but I could see the grins (albeit cool grins) on their faces.
My cynical hat fell to the floor and my spirit lifted. The rest of the morning I sincerely and thoroughly enjoyed belting out some hymns - most of which I didn't recognize - and gazing around at people twice my age, truly enjoying each other the presence of God.
Kari and I just got back from a pretty thought-provoking event. That said, even on the way there I didn't really want to be going. It was a beautiful night...we could be out on a boat. I had spent the whole day working in the yard...my body ached and I just wanted to sit down. It was hot...I didn't want to put on "nice" clothes.
Then I got to Dance for a Cure and realized I was surrounded by people currently fighting cancer, people who lost loved ones to cancer, and people who had beaten cancer. And I stopped whining.
Dance for a Cure is a night filled with every kind of dancing you could imagine. Hip-Hop, contemporary, ballet, improvisational, modern, 50's swing, and a guy who could tap dance like no one I'd ever seen before!
Not only was the dancing a smorgasbord, but the dancers were of every age, nationality, body type, and ability. All coming together to celebrate, struggle, and fight together. Hmmm...sounds a bit like what "church" should be like...
I just got home from a meeting with one of those guys that always makes me think, challenges me, and encourages me at the same time. We were talking about life, business, effectiveness, and how we were doing in those areas when Jeff said this:
The enemy of "great" is not "bad." The enemy of great is "good."
So many of us spend too much time living in the "good enough," when God longs for us to live in the "great." To truly be doing, being, and living all that He created us to do, be, and live. When we settle for "good enough," we've automatically accepted less than the life more abundantly Jesus spoke of as the reason He came.
Thanks Jeff. I needed that.
What would you sacrifice to help someone else? This is one of those sports stories that just needs to be told - whether you like sports or not.
"With two runners on base and a strike against her, Sara Tucholsky of Western Oregon University uncorked her best swing and did something she had never done, in high school or college. Her first home run cleared the center-field fence.
"But it appeared to be the shortest of dreams come true when she missed first base, started back to tag it and collapsed with a knee injury.
"She crawled back to first but could do no more. The first-base coach said she would be called out if her teammates tried to help her. Or, the umpire said, a pinch runner could be called in, and the homer would count as a single.
"Then, members of the Central Washington University softball team stunned spectators by carrying Tucholsky around the bases Saturday so the three-run homer would count - an act that contributed to their own elimination from the playoffs."
Read the whole thing here. (courtesy of msn.foxsports.com) or watch a video about it here.I'm sitting in the Denver Airport, halfway home from a weekend with some amazing people. I was doing a weekend training at the annual staff conference for a ministry called Student Mobilization. Most people there were between 18-35. They have a passion for seeing college students become disciples of Jesus and then turn their faith outward and head overseas. Their primary focus is India, and as I sat in the session last night where they unveiled their 3-year strategic plan, on both walls were project - via Skype - their two long-term teams that are in Delhi and Hyderabad (sp?). So sweet to see people connecting from around the world with a common mission of surrendering their lives to Jesus in the hope that many would come to walk with Him. The phrase they used all night long was "Great visions require great sacrifice." Hmmm...how much am I sacrificing?
I was reading an excerpt from French Jesuit Jean-Pierre de Caussade and came across this quote: "All we need to know is how to recognize God's will in the present moment."
Jean-Pierre speaks in almost all his writings about "the duty of the present." What a concept. To be fully present. Fully engaged with the person in front of us. Fully alive to the moving of God and His Spirit today, right now, in this circumstance, no matter how painful or exhilarating.
Sounds a lot like Jesus...
It helps, now and then, to step back
and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection...
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
Knowing they hold future promise.
we lay foundations that will need further development.
We cannot do everything
And there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to try to do it well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results...
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Thanks to Debbie Hancock for sharing this in your article.
"I lost hope a long time ago."
I can't get his words out of my head. Ninety minutes ago I was sitting across the table from Daniel and that's what he said to me. Part of me wanted to cry. Part of me didn't know what to say. Part of me wanted to say, "What are you talking about? You're 14 years old. You don't even have a 'long time ago.'"
The conversation started innocently enough...
"What's your favorite band right now?"
"You wouldn't know it."
"I can look it up."
"You wouldn't like it. It's death metal. You like death metal?"
"No, not really. But I like people. And music is important to people, so I like to hear what they like."
"I like Emmure. And that's a good band." (pointing to his friend's Suicide Silence T-shirt - then continues...) "I'm not really religious."
"Neither am I. I just love Jesus."
Silence...so I continued...
"Jesus made a habit of pissing off religious people."
More silence. (But I think I saw a slight grin in there.)
"Well, I don't really believe in God at all. I lost hope a long time ago. Too much has happened."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No. Not really."
"Okay. That's fine."
I can't stop thinking about Daniel. I want to know what happened that made him lose hope. And I don't want to know. I want to forget about him and get back to my comfortable life. And I want to seek him out, hang out with him, look him square in the eye and say, "That God you don't believe in thinks your valuable. You might not. But He does. Not just sort of valuable - but worth-dying-for valuable."
I don't know if I helped Daniel at all. Maybe that's not the point. Maybe God's point tonight was to break my heart a little bit. (He did.) Maybe God wanted to remind me to be fully present when I'm talking to someone. Maybe He wanted to open my eyes a little wider to the truth that many of His children lost hope a long time ago. Maybe part of God's answer to my prayer "Your Kingdom come..." is to make myself available as a bringer of hope - even if it's only through a short conversation about death metal.
Nope - I can't stop thinking about Daniel. And what scares me the most is that I might wake up tomorrow and not be thinking about Daniel. May it not be so...
