Mother Teresa once said “We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”  I like that image, that the whole ocean in all its vastness is still essentially composed of drops.

I’m also reminded of a line or two in a song from the musical Into The Woods which says “Oh, if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad one! But if life were only moments, then you’d never know you had one.”  I like that too.

And with those two notions at the forefront of my mind, I thought it would be good to write a quick summary of how Samuel has progressed since his birth, charting some of the highlights and milestones of the past 12 weeks.  I guess this is for posterity.  Or reference.  Or guidance.  Or amusement.  Or indeed just to pass the time.

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This post could also easily have been entitled “Why I’ve had nursery rhymes going round and round in my head for the last few days”.  But that’s a bit of a long title.  And it has nothing to do with television.

At the weekend we found ourselves in Paignton, staying overnight with my parents.  It’s not the house I grew up in, but it’s a home from home I’ve learned to love.  ‘Home’, for me, will always be Watcombe Park, in that cosy little 3 bedroom house with the back garden that flooded when it rained and the front garden with the rose bush at the end of the path (but that’s another story).  A great many happy memories were generated in that house, from my earliest childhood memories through to leaving home for university.  And now, nearly 25 years on, with a youngun growing fast, I’m conscious that everything we do has an impact in some way, even if he is only 11 weeks old.  Memories are being made, and as a father I have a duty to ensure that they are good memories.

And so, on this somewhat spontaneous visit, I decided it would be a good opportunity to reclaim a few cassette tapes from my youth, to give Samuel something to listen to.  Or, as the case may be, for me to sing along to until such a time as he can join in.

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I like to think of myself as a Driver.  Not just someone who happens to drive, mind you, an actual Driver.  With a capital D.  I see a car not as an object or a tool to be controlled, but as an extension of my own body.  The wheels are my limbs, gripping to the road and telling me all about the road surface.  The engine is a muscle, delivering power when and how I determine, and which needs rest and exercise to operate properly.  And the driver’s seat, the steering wheel, the pedals, the gear stick, are all part of my central nervous system, delivering the impulses from my brain to the respective parts of the extended body.  Driving, for me, is not about getting from A to B – it’s about living life in an augmented reality.

And the A303 is a fantastic road to experience that reality.  I’ve been driving on it a lot recently, and each journey has built upon the last my love and appreciation for what, for many, is just a road.  You see, the A303 isn’t like a motorway.  It’s slower, certainly, but it’s more scenic, more interesting to drive, and requires more skill to navigate effectively.  Now, I’m not saying that you have to be a qualified driver to make it all the way down the road, it’s not exactly precarious, but being a Driver means I can appreciate and embrace all the twists and turns, the adverse cambers, the ever-changing gradients, the varying speed limits, the wavering lane widths, the unpredictable surface quality.  For someone trying to get from A to B, the A303 is an inefficient pain in the neck that urgently needs resurfacing and making dual-carriageway the entire length of it.  And that’s why I love it so.

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This is a post I’ve been wanting to write for a while.  Marching determinedly around the nursery at unearthly hours of the morning I have developed a reasonably accurate way of measuring the state of sleep of our son, Samuel, allowing me to more reliably tell whether it is safe to put him down or whether I need to keep on marching.  So I thought I’d share it with you, in case there are any other parents tearing their hair out looking for answers.

I must point out, of course, that this is not a magic solution.  Every baby is different, and what works for us may not work for you.  But feel free to try it, and see if it helps.

Introduction

First, let me explain how I came by this revelation.  When Samuel was born, getting him to sleep was a bit hit and miss.  Sometimes he would seem dead to the world, but if we moved him even slightly he would wake up and start crying again.  We’d read about the ‘limp limb test’, where you raise one of his arms a couple of inches and drop it, and if he doesn’t stir then it’s safe to move him.  That didn’t work.  Samuel wouldn’t bat an eyelid at having his arm moved, but change his position and he’d complain.

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Further to my previous post, I’m afraid to say that my blog is still feeling a little under the weather at the moment.  I’ve Googled, I’ve prodded and poked, I’ve FTPed and upgraded, and all to no avail.  So, for now at least, I’ve given up.  One day when I have time I’ll look into it again, but for now I’m going to rely on other ways to update my blog.  My previous post came courtesy of the built-in blog editor in Flock.  This one is being written in ScribeFire, a Firefox plugin.

And it’s high time for an update, I’m sure you’ll agree.  A certain person has been on my case for days, if not weeks, asking for a photo of a smiling baby that I’d promised her.  I had intended on putting it on my blog, but that wasn’t working, so I emailed it to her in the end.  But, for those of you who are not Sarah, a photo of my darling son is in this post – the first I managed to capture of him smiling.

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Just a quick message here to say that my blog isn’t letting me in.  WordPress has failed me.  I can’t log in to add new posts, because when I enter my login details it just redirects me back to the login page rather than taking me to the admin panel.  And yes, I have tried disabling all my plugins.  And yes, I have tried upgrading to the latest version of WordPress.  And yes, it is amazing how I can still post to my blog if I can’t access it (I’m using Flock instead, hopefully this will work in the meantime).

So apologies for the lack of content here lately, when I get it all back up and running again I hope things will return to normal, with posts planned about how I get Samuel to sleep, video editing, rants about Google Buzz, revelations about split infinitives, and so on and so forth.

I’ve been doing a lot of driving recently.  This past week I drove from Somerset to Essex for a meeting in Chelmsford, and then back again.  The previous week I did almost the same journey for a meeting in Maldon.  Both times I went up the night before and stayed overnight in Colchester with some friends (thank you again, Phill and Phil, the accommodation and ironing service was much appreciated).  In case you’ve never done that journey before, at best it’s a 4 hour drive in each direction.  If there’s traffic on the M25 or A12 it can be a lot longer.

Now, I see myself as a very level-headed person.  I don’t get stressed, I don’t get angry, I don’t judge people.  Until I get into a car, apparently.  While on the roads recently I’ve noticed just how much I judge the other road users, mentally criticising their driving abilities and in some cases even their choice of car.  It came as a bit of a surprise, actually, that I would so easily fall into this habit of judgement.  So I thought I’d share with you what form this judgement takes.

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This is a song I began to write at Spring Harvest last year.  On Sunday I included it in the worship songs and taught it to the congregation, as it seemed to fit well with the theme, and it seemed to go down well!  It was actually the first time anyone had heard it, my wife included, so it was good to get it out at last and being useful.  I even had a lady ring me up this evening asking for the words, because she’d found it really inspiring!  That’s such a huge encouragement for a songwriter.  Not that I seek attention or praise, but that God is working through my offering and allowing my gift to bear fruit.  Halleluia!

So, here are the words to the song, “Jesus your name is higher”.  I don’t have the music written out yet, but when I do I’ll try and make sure that finds its way onto here too.   (more…)

For those who don’t know, I have a brother.  That’s not entirely accurate, I actually have two brothers, but for the purpose of this paragraph I want to stress one in particular.  And for those who still don’t know, he’ll soon be adding to the Dawkins family tree.  If you’re reading this and you’re confused, allow me to get specific: my brother Christopher is engaged.  Yes, yes, I could have just said that, but then I wouldn’t feel clever.

On Saturday we drove up to Bristol to see lots of people – Christopher’s fiancee’s parents were playing host to my parents for the day, with a view to providing an opportunity for Christopher and Sarah to show their respective parents around the wedding venues.  And it was a good excuse to all meet up and eat food.  There was no particular wedding-related reason for our presence, I think Sarah just wanted to see Samuel.

So, up to Bristol we drove.  And, to add to my excitement, I got to drive underneath the Clifton Suspension Bridge, which I have never had cause to do before (I’ve been over it a few times, but never under).  Little pleasures.  Samuel slept pretty much all the way, as he tends to do whenever we’re travelling at more than 30mph – he seems to be a human speedometer, letting us know quite noisily if we’re not going fast enough.

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At the weekend, which for some reason began on Thursday, we had visitors.  Not just any run-of-the-mill, common or garden, everyday type visitors.  Oh no.  These were special.  Anne-Marie and Sarah are our best friends from Colchester.  I lived with one of them for two years, Ellie lived with the other for two years, and they’re now living together in what used to be my house.  It’s all rather confusion really.  We’ve been through a great deal, the four of us, the good and the bad, the ordinary and the random, the practical and the spontaneous.  So close is our relationship that they no longer fit into the category of ‘friends’ – they have managed to transcend that definition and become more like family.  They are the sisters I never had.  And I love them both very much.

Anyway, enough of this mushy stuff, back to the story.

AM and Sarah came to visit on Thursday, having made the journey in Sarah’s little blue Fiesta all the way from Colchester (a good 4 hour drive, not including loo stops), and arrived on our doorstep laden with hugs and presents for Samuel.  Both their presence and their presents were very much appreciated (see what I did there?).

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