…well, it’s like nothing else. Nothing at all. I am amazed, overjoyed, humbled, anxious, scared and excited–often all at the same time–every single day.

My Son, whom I immortalized here holding a Spurs foam finger In Utero and who, pictured above, at 8 days old is already skilled at the Satrom-Heck Art of Fist Bumping (SHAFB), was born at St. Francis Medical Center in Colorado Springs, CO on March 20th at 4:25 p.m.

The delivery didn’t exactly go to our birth plan, but, considering the circumstances that lead to the need for a c-section, we couldn’t be happier that His birth plan was the one that won out.

While mom was in recovery, I got to give the little guy a salon-quality shampoo, complete with scalp massage and follicle wax.

Emotionally, I’m floored. I’m picking myself up each day before being dropped again by the seven pound thief of mine and Sarah’s heart(s).

I’m floored by the courage of my beautiful and amazing wife as she spent the last nine months preparing for motherhood like no one I’ve ever seen. We had a Cheers-like relationship with the instructors at St. Francis, but it’s all been amazing preparation, especially in dealing with the unexpected and scary environment of diversions from a normal labor and delivery. She’s going to be a great mother and will more than make up for my bumbling attempts at parenthood.

I’m also floored by the family and friends who have prayed for us for months, if not years, and have extended their congratulations and compliments on our beautiful son. Thank you to everyone, we feel blessed and loved.

I’m floored by the love of our families, and the tireless assistance that they have provided us, both before the birth and now, when sleep comes in bursts and chores seem like “luxuries” for people with “free time.”

  

But mostly, I’m floored that God would choose to bless me twice over in this life well beyond that I have and will ever deserve. When He brought Sarah into my life, I experienced how the gifts of a gracious God can bring one to tears.

With Benjamin, Sarah and I have both experienced how the gifs of a gracious God can bring one to one’s knees.

I plan on staying there for a while.

He’s a quick study, what can I say?

I couldn’t resist…

Yesterday, Sarah and I had THE ultrasound. The one where we find out the sex of the baby.

So, not only are we having a boy¹ but the little guy already has his competitive spirit about him if the above photo is any indication.

Just put a Spurs foam finger on that bad boy and we’ll be ready to go.

We’re counting down to March and I can’t wait to meet my son! It’s gonna be great.

Possible names include:

• Dirk Funk Satrom
• Atreyu Bilbo Satrom
• Skeletor Satrom
• Joe the Plumber Satrom
• Larry Bird Satrom/ David Robinson Satrom/ Tim Duncan Satrom

Other suggestions are welcome…

1. and we’re both quite excited, let me tell you

Today that issue is poverty.

For my post on this blog, I’ve chosen to re-post a story I wrote for the Compassion Blog about the first time I met Ana Maria, a little girl from the Dominican Republic who I met while leading a men’s retreat with friends.

We sponsor Ana through Compassion International, a global child development ministry with the mission of releasing children from poverty in Jesus’ name.

The truth is that while poverty affects millions across the world, it is the children who are often the most helpless and the most harmed. As you navigate through posts on poverty, and as you feel the call to do something about poverty in this world, please consider what you can do to help those who cannot help themselves.

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I knew that she was a sweet little girl, but it wasn’t her face that told me so. Her face had a hard look, as if smiling was an indulgence; something reserved for close friends and family only. But the hardness in her face wasn’t a frown. It wasn’t unhappiness I saw there. It might have simply been shyness and uncertainty.

After all, who was I? Some American who swooped in to pass around the good feelings before returning to vast shelters of wood, composite and stone? Someone who wanted to “do a little good” and make himself feel better before returning home to his consumer Christianity?

It’s possible all of this was on her face and in her four-year-old mind. Children are, after all, very perceptive.

But maybe I was projecting. Maybe my mind was simply painting my own guilt on her stoic face.

I stood in the courtyard playground of that child development center in Bonao, hours outside of Santo Domingo and less than a day after arriving in the Dominican Republic (DR), and the sun’s heat felt more like that given off by an interrogation lamp than life-giving warmth.

Why was I really here anyway?

I came to the DR to lead a men’s retreat with three others. Two other Compassion employees and one elder of a local church. Our host was an employee of the DR country office. The next day, we were to begin speaking at his church and leading what we hoped would be a revival for the men of Santo Domingo.

So I was there to speak. To challenge, encourage and uplift.

But even more, I discovered that I was there to listen. And to be challenged, encouraged and uplifted myself.

Our first day in the country was a Compassion day. A chance for three of us to see, for the first time, the results of the work of thousands around the globe working to further the cause of Christ.

It was a holiday in the Dominican Republic, so we didn’t receive the 300-child welcoming party I’d heard is often customary when visiting a Compassion child development center.

Instead, we were greeted by a handful of children. Several boys and, as I remember it, one little girl with a hard face, but who radiated sweetness nonetheless.

But from where? I wonder now what drew me so strongly to this sweet child, only present that day because her mother, Rosa, is their volunteer cook.

Perhaps it was the English.

Shortly after meeting Ana Maria, I knelt down to speak with her, with our friend and translator, David, at my right.

“Hello Ana. My name is Brandon.”

And before David could translate, she spoke.

“Hello,” she said, in English. There was a softness in her voice, one that smoothed her features and melted my heart.

“God bless you, Ana,” I said.

“God bless you,” she replied, again without waiting for David to translate. The center facilitator, who was sitting nearby, smiled.

“She wants to learn English.”

“That’s wonderful.” I looked back at Ana Maria and smiled at her.

She didn’t smile back, but the hardness I had seen at first was gone. Better yet, the image of hardness I projected on her face at the first was replaced with hope.

Cautious hope. And a desire to smile, but maybe not just yet.

Ana didn’t have a sponsor before that day. But by the time I left, she did.

I wonder sometimes if she remembers meeting me. If she recalls meeting an American man who would return home in days and slide unwittingly back into Western and indulgent living, but who now had a lifeline to need, reality and truth. A lifeline that somehow sustains both the giver and receiver.

I hope she does remember. Two years from now, my wife and I plan to return to the DR to visit Ana Maria and her mother. My wife will meet them for the first time, and I will see them once again. We’ll hug, pray, play and speak English and Spanish to each other.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll smile.

So you already knew that Sarah and I are having a baby in March of next year.¹

That’s one.

If we’re not friends on Facebook or Twitter, or if you use both of these far less than I do, you might not know that I just changed jobs. Just as in Friday was my last day at Compassion and Monday was my first day at Thought Ascent, my new company. If you want more details on the change, click on over to my other blog.

That’s two.

Surely you didn’t know that Sarah and I plan to move back to Texas in the spring of next year?

That’s three.

And I’m certain you think us crazy. How many life changes can we pile on, right?

The good news is that they’re all related.

The baby led to our desire to move back to Texas and the new job will provide the means to get there.

Or at least that’s our plan. God appears to agree so far, but we’ll follow wherever he leads whenever he wants us to go.

In the meantime, we just like to shake things up as much as possible every 5 years or so.

That’s just how we roll.

1. We find out the sex next Monday… don’t worry, we’ll tell

In the meantime, how about a whirlwind tour of what’s new with me and (mostly with) Sarah?

For starters, Sarah and I are having a baby! It’s our first, due in March next year.¹

We couldn’t be more excited. Sarah and I are amazed at how God has blessed us over the last five-and-a-half years and we can’t wait to meet the newest member of our clan.

What’s more, thanks to the unbelievably strong genes in the Liles family (Sarah’s side), I can give you an idea of what the baby will look like, should we have a girl:

For the record, that’s my niece, but I’m not kidding. I’ve seen the photographic evidence. You wait…

On the other hand, if it’s a boy, I expect that the also-strong Satrom genes will rule the day:

Anyhow, we couldn’t be happier. Please keep Sarah and the baby in your prayers. Both are doing great so far. Me? I’m just trying to be helpful…

Of course, all other news pales in comparison, so if you’re still reading, I thank you.

Sarah and I recently did a photo shoot with a friend who is getting a side business off the ground.

He’s pretty good, no?

One of these days, I’ll post those pics to Flickr and pass the link around. In the meantime, here’s a link to Jacob’s Flickr page, and the set from this shoot.

Okay, now for the least important stuff: writing news.

1. Upcoming work – The Futuristic Motherhood anthology, which includes my story “A Person of No Consequence” is coming this month. I’ll post a teaser to my story and other details soon. In the meantime, you can order the book here. I’m really excited about this anthology and this story, so stay tuned for more info.
2. Out in the wild – I have three stories out making the rounds as we speak. I expect responses any day on a couple, and expect to wait a while on another. I’m also realizing that I can’t seem to settle on a genre, and I honestly don’t plan to any time soon. Between the three stories out and the one currently being printed, I have 1 sci-fi story, 1 literary piece, 1 crime story and 1 speculative story. Perhaps it’s good to focus, and one day I will, but for now I’m just having fun writing anything and everything.²
3. Short works in progress – On the in progress front, I am working on one more short story that I hope to finish this month or next. This will be likely be the final short story I work on in 2008.
4. The next novel – Why? Because NaNoWriMo is just around the corner…

Well, not exactly, but I’ve already started planning, plotting and outlining my next novel. My plan is to use all of September and October to outline the crap out of this thing, and then spend all of November and December, with NaNoWriMo as the jumping off point, to write the first draft.

So far, I’m pretty excited about the novel I’ve got here. Not at all what I expected to do this year, but that’s what’s making it so exciting!

I also plan to blog a daily chronicle of NaNo this year, so expect the once-a-week blogging to turn into once-a-day for the month of November.

You stay classy, internet.

1. If you follow me on Twitter, you might already know this, so sorry for the repeat
2. In addition to these four stories, I do have two others, but they shall remain apocryphal and unpublished, hopefully forever

It’s an identity crisis

I do not know what to do

Grow dreads or sport a bald head.

- Pigeon John, “Identity Crisis” Pigeon John is Dating Your Sister

I have a problem.

And for some reason, I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I lay it out.

One the one hand, I’m a pretty insecure guy (Exhibit A). I find that this confession often comes as a shock to people, but believe me when I say I’m great at the self doubt. Ask Sarah. She hates it because she can’t stand to see me acting Richard Lewis neurotic. I hate it too. More when I feel like I can’t help it, which is too often. It’s a bad habit, like biting your nails, or habitually kicking your cat¹.

On the other hand, I’m a very, very opinionated guy (Exhibit B). If you’ve spent any amount of time with me, this is probably more self-evident than exhibit A. Given time, you’d probably discover that I have an opinion on just about any topic, even if I know next to nothing about it. My initials seem to be more than a coincidence. Again, ask Sarah. She has the distinct pleasure of listening to me rant and rave about everything from politics and faith to the inanity of reality television all without pausing to breathe or, at times, to think.

Now, being the perceptive individual that you are, it should be obvious to see how these two things are linked. Do the math:

Insecurity = Need to be liked, praised, appreciated, applauded, etc. (let’s call all of this being “The Man”)

The Man = Smart + Funny + Observant + Authoritative

Though the math is quite faulty, I assume you see where this is going. Mr. Opinionated Expert on Everything² just wants to be liked.

And I know I’m being too hard on myself. See Exhibit A.

And I know I’m being dramatic. See Exhibit B.

But there is a genuine problem here.

Neither of these is really me. The real me.

Consider this:

Opinionated guy wants to write with (perceived) honesty and abandon. To “be real.” To lay my opinions on the table.

I gotta be me, right?

So let’s say I do that, and maybe I even have before. All fine and good, and I’ve said my peace.

But then insecure guys goes nuts, convinced that I’ve offended everyone at every turn. He thinks I might as well give up writing because I’ve burned bridges before I even wrote anything worth reading.

“It’s all over now,” insecure guy says. He sounds kinda like mix between Tim Conway and Gilligan.³

One guy is a jerk, and the other guy is a wuss. I mean Opinionated Guy and Insecure Guy, not Tim Conway and Gilligan…

And if I’m not either of them, who am I then?

I’m both, minus the jerk and the wuss. I think what’s left is someone who can actually separate truth from bias. Someone who isn’t afraid to speak that truth, but who also doesn’t feel a constant need to wield truth like a broadsword when a scalpel will do. Someone who cares for others, but who knows when not to care what others think. Someone who’s sense of security is anything but earthly.

And I think the key to my becoming the man, the writer, the husband, the father⁴ and the Follower of Christ that God intends me to be lies within an ability to embrace that truth.

Too personal? Probably. But I don’t care what you think.

P.S. To harken back to Pigeon John’s lyrics, neither dreads nor a bald head would work for me. I already know I have an odd-shaped skull, and don’t need a midday shadow as additional proof. As for dreads, I think that Jason Castro (see below) has the market cornered on white-guy dreads right now. I only know this because Sarah watches American Idol. I merely sit next to her on the couch, glued to the Mac while I pretend to not listen and not love it.

1. I struggle with one of these two things
2. I’m talking about me here
3. Opinionated guy sounds like Hulk Hogan, by the way.
4. not yet mom

Want this button?

It’s time once again for Pensieve’s Poetic License, a monthly poetry carnival to stretch the mind and hone that poetic voice in all of us. This is my third month of participation and, I must say, I absolutely love that Robin does this. If you don’t already, head over to Robin’s page and click the links to read some great poems. You’ll find equal parts moving and amusing poetry. Laugh a bit. Have your heart warmed a little. So check it out. Read some poems and leave a comment or two to let folks know you liked their hard work.

This month’s theme is Haiku, a Japanese poetic form which, in Western application, consists of three lines with five, seven and five syllables, respectively. Key ideas are brevity and word economy.

Needless to say, I am at a marked disadvantage when brevity and word economy are on the list of rules. Regular readers know this well. My longer posts are best consumed over holidays and while in long lines at the post office. Which reminds me, why aren’t you a regular reader? Yes, I am talking to you… click here and subscribe to my blog in your feed reader. Or, if you just asked yourself, “what’s a feed reader?” click here are subscribe to my blog via email. I promise that you won’t be consistently disappointed.

See what I mean about word economy?

In any case, I’m not one to back away from a challenge (as evidenced by my insistence on writing a Limerick with a pounding head), so I sat down this morning to craft a few Spring-themed Haiku¹.

I wrote my first yesterday about the weather in Colorado (where we live. It was snowing.) and in Texas (where we are visiting this week. It was 88-degrees.)

Winter out west, and

Summer down south, really is

No such thing as Spring.

After creating that one, I felt it was important to write another expressing the vast well of emotion Sarah and I are feeling towards American Airlines this week, as we were just two of the nearly 300,000 people with canceled flights. We made it to Texas on the day we were supposed to, ten hours later than planned.

As such, we missed out on Tex-Mex. Nevermind that we had some last night. Last night should have been Tex-Mex meal number two, not number one.

So, here’s to you AA!

A reservation?

No matter. Our planes, wonky.

Fly with us again?

Finally. In a departure from my exclusively comedic approach towards these poems the last few months, I wrote a real Spring Haiku.

Thaw this sheet of ice

Warm me head and hand to toe.

Spring. New body, soul.

So there you have it. I’m not a connoisseur of Haiku, so I don’t know if these are any good. But they were fun to write, and maybe I learned some brevity along the way.

Now go read others.

1. Yes, I actually checked for the correct tense

Here are the rules:

1. Write about the Strangest Job I Ever Had and tell what I learned from it.

2. Link to other “Lessons from Odd Jobs” posts.

3. Tag my post “Lessons from Odd Jobs”.

4. Tag other bloggers, in or out of the HC network.

5. Link back to the Lessons from Odd Jobs page and and email this month’s host at “Marcus AT highcallingblogs DOT com”.

When Sarah and I first read the rules for this meme, my thought was actually quite similar to L.L.’s:

I haven’t really had an odd job.

At least not like my friend Paul, who worked as a Canadian Gravedigger.¹ Or my lovely wife, who worked on the closed ward of a mental hospital right after college.

I certainly was never a magician’s assistant or an employee at a mall kiosk. I also never sacrificed myself for the good of science.

I had a lot of normal jobs. I mowed lawns, served coffee at Starbucks, served coffee at Barnes & Noble, and was a youth pastor at a tiny Methodist church in Mexia, Texas. Since college, I’ve posed as a programmer, web developer, IT consultant and, most recently, an Enterprise Architect.

However, I forgot one. And right as we read the rules of this meme, Sarah said:

“You should write about dropping chicken at Bill Miller Bar-B-Q.”

Ah yes, Bill Miller.

• Cleaning the bathrooms
• Dropping chicken

The second is actually better than it sounds. I never actually dropped chicken on the floor or anything like that², but what I did have to do was get a pan full of raw chicken from the kitchen fridge³, coat each piece of chicken with flour and drop it in the fryer.

The first is only odd when one considers the health implications of a person asked to scrub linoleum surfaces with industrial strength chemicals, and then handle raw chicken.

What made it even more odd, in my mind, was the fact that the busboy was one of about fifteen people working in this restaurant at any one time. No one else found it odd that the busboy, who spent his day handling chemicals and dirty dishes, was also the one preparing the fried chicken? Notice what menu item is permanently displayed on the sign above? This was the very thing most people were coming in for.

But I digress. I think I’m also supposed to talk about what I learned from this job. So here we go:

1. There are good people everywhere. I suppose this goes without saying, but I’ve been blessed to meet and work with some pretty amazing people over the years, starting with folks at Bill Miller. I learned then that the people you work with are always more important that what you are doing, and good people make any job seem better. Not only has that encouraged me to look for good people to work with, as I do now, but also to try and be that good person.
2. There is no job above or beneath us. This, I suppose, is my “value of hard” work point. I learned a lot about hard work from that job⁴, but the most important thing I learned is that any work we are called to do has value, even if we feel like doing something else. The job we’re in may not be tied directly to a calling, but everything God calls us to do either points to or moves us toward that calling.
3. Restaurant management is hard. I don’t actually know this for a fact, but I figure it has to be. How else would one end up in a situation where the bathroom cleaner is handling raw food?

Okay, enough of that.

Now to pass the meme along to Brian Houghtaling, Russ Debenport, Jeff Caylor and Heather Goodman.

While these fine individuals are preparing to wow us with their odd jobs, check out more entries here. You can also tell me about your odd job(s) in the comments below.

Update: I’d also like to invite my friend and new blogger Jim Garland into the mix!

Technorati Tag: lessons from odd jobs

1. He is both Canadian and dug graves for other Canadians, or post-Canadians I suppose. Neither is really noteworthy, except that I think “Canadian Gravedigger” sounds more odd than “Gravedigger.” Plus, it would make a great band name…
2. as far as you know
3. It was right next to the giant vats of “Chopped Beef,” which was actually a congealed mess of spare parts and leftovers from other restaurant fare. Always reminded me of something Dan Aykroyd said in The Great Outdoors. Let’s just say that my dad doesn’t eat them anymore.
4. and from mowing lawns with my dad

I want to wish you all a Happy Valentine’s Day. But I especially want to wish Sarah, my wonderful wife, a very Happy Valentine’s Day.

A few days ago, I wrote in a post that I crave Sarah’s praise like the very air I breathe. One friend read that and seemed to take it as though Sarah withholds praise from me, creating a seller’s market of sorts in our marriage.

Not true. Not at all. While my statement was a bit overblown, (hi, I’m Brandon. Nice to meet you) it is intended speak to how deeply I care for and cherish the love, support and appreciation I receive from my wife. There is air aplenty for me to take in, but that doesn’t diminish my need to breathe. In the same way, my wife is the most supportive, caring and wonderful person I know¹ and she often tells me that I’m a great guy too. What’s more, she has been more supportive of my journey into writing than I could have imagined. I wouldn’t still be writing if it weren’t for her.

So here’s to you Sarah! Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you with all my heart. You are a perpetual blessing and a constant reminder of how much I am loved. Thank you for your love and your support! Keep it coming!

Now, what can I make you for dinner tonight?

- B

1. She’s also absolutely gorgeous, by the way