:: St. Stephen's Musings ::

:: Wednesday, February 02, 2005 ::

An Extended Sabbatical

"Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went abroad; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last one night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise..."

The destruction of the Ring of Power did for Frodo what Kirsten's birth is doing for me. I am only now beginning to understand how truly revolutionary are the ramifications.

As I get older my admiration has increased for those like Frodo--souls who, to quote St. Maximus the Confessor, "understand the created essence of things" and because of this illumination know that, as Ecclesiastes notes, God "has made everything beautiful in its time yet He also has put eternity into man's mind."

There is an important "both/and" at work here. There are many places, such as the Shire, where good friends, stimulating discussion and community can be found. Yet there comes a point where, in spite of (and, paradoxically, because of) these things, one must leave for "white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise..."

It is this philosophy that forms the foundation for my decision to take an extended sabbatical from St. Stephen's Musings.

Since November of 2002, I have spent countless hours constructing posts, expressing ideas, and responding to comments. For the most part, I have found blogging a very positive experience. Some of my best writing can be found in the archives of this blog. I've been able to wrestle with the topics of the masthead in ways I would have never been able to otherwise. I've corresponded with and met amazing, talented, and insightful people because of blogging and my life would be impoverished without them.

For quite some time, all that is good about blogging was persuasive enough to stave off what I always knew to be inevitable. But life beyond the Middle Earth we call "the blogosphere" always beckons, and the intensity of this call has grown to the point where I can neither ignore nor postpone action any longer. Kirsten's birth, in some ways, is merely the catalyst.

There is a life of deeper prayer to develop, battles with passions to more fully engage, a growing list of books to read, a university degree to hopefully finish, Latin students to teach, long walks to take...and, of course, a wife and newborn daughter to love and cherish. At this point I am faced with the hard truth that I am unable to give my best to these endeavors and vocations while simultaneously meeting the demands facing me as the man behind St. Stephen's Musings.

I'll still be regularly reading many of the blogs on my roll, and you'll no doubt see me in the commenting threads from time to time. Chances are, I'll be back blogging regularly again in the near future.

But for now, I must bid you farewell.

It is time.

:: Karl Thienes :: 7:39:00 AM [Link] ::

We Are Home

All of Kirsten's vital signs, blood work, and lab results came back and there was nothing but good news to report! She and mom were discharged from the hospital Saturday afternoon and have both taken to breast-feeding perfectly. We are all tired but handling this parenthood thing pretty well so far!

Many of you may have seen the letter I sent out, but here it is in an expanded and edited format:

Kirsten Anysia Ioanna Thienes, was born Tuesday evening at 5:20pm by emergency cesarean under truly miraculous circumstances. Truly, God was glorified!

Even though she was born post-term, Kirsten was a tiny 5 lbs/ 6 oz and 18 inches at birth. When Kirsten was born:

a) she had a non-functioning and discolored umbilical cord that was half the size it should have been
b) the umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her neck twice, her shoulder, and her abdomen
c) she had a fully expired placenta
d) she emerged from the womb so covered and full of meconium that the two chief doctor's at the birth (with 45 combined years of experience in high-risk, emergency births) said without a doubt it was the most dire meconium situation they had ever seen

Not only was our little girl not a still-birth, but she was healthy beyond all scientific explanation. The staff who saw the birth and those who have seen her file since have told us, many in tears, that they are convinced this birth was a miracle.

The chief surgeon pulled me aside after the birth and said, "I don't know if you're religious or not, but we don't have answers for you. I hope your faith does."

I was there as Kirsten was delivered, and I was allowed to follow her into the adjacent NICU where her Apcar score (the measurement of a baby's response to birth and life outside of the womb that is taken one to five minutes after birth) went from "1" (basically dead) to an "8" in less than 3 minutes with no oxygen, IV, or other medical treatment. The NICU respiratory specialist who worked on her said it was literally "impossible" that her blood-oxygen levels could have been that good since the meconium was fully impacted below her vocal cords and her placenta had already died.

I truly believe she was resurrected from the dead in front of my eyes.

We are also convinced God richly poured out His mercy and love through the prayers of St. John Maximovitch (whose oil was used to anoint Carrie during the pregnancy and whose relics were placed on Carrie minutes before the surgery). We thus have given Kirsten a second middle name, Ioanna, in honor of St. John. May his intercessions continue to bless those, who in faith, seek to emulate his love for Christ.

Glory to God for all things!

Update: I have pictures I can send you if you email me.

Update 2: Seraphim says it well: "Oftentimes it seems that miracles are connected to our own fragility. The fragility of spiritual *and* physical vulnerabilty and need...in spite of the development of the human race into a people that has 'conquered' and discovered so much...we are still left open mouthed, awe struck, on our knees with gratitude."

Update 3: Owen writes a stunning post about having a newborn daughter.

Update 4: "Faith in God pulls down divine power, overturns all human conclusions, works miracles, resurrects the dead and leaves science astounded."---Elder Piasos, "Epistles" pg 215

:: Karl Thienes :: 1:16:00 PM [Link] ::