My little Emanuel

His name is David. He is my son, and he is my Emmanuel.

After seven years of trying, and I mean trying everything; including sleeping with ice-packs between my legs (ouch) ; my wife and I were about to give up and adopt. But as it turned out, Cathy wasn't ready to give up just yet. One night, at our bible study, Cathy made the impossible leap. This beautifully devout Catholic girl, stepped outside the boundaries of her religion, and asked us, a protestant group to pray for her womb to open. May I be damned if I lie, but three nights from that night, Cathy was pregnant. I learned a very valuable lesson from this experience. At first I wondered if it was us, the collective of God-loving friends, who prayed for her and won God's ears. But soon I realized that itt wasn't us who won the heart of God. It was Cathy.

That sweet angel had more love for God, in one breath, than I could wish for in a day. She bypassed everyone and everything and went straight to God, and placed herself before Him. So God gave her a miracle. He gave her a son. Cathy knew that getting pregnant could kill her, and that this was by no means going to be a joy-ride for her. But she was unconcerned. While the rest of us were killing ourselves with worrying about her health and her child's health, Cathy was enjoying her pregnancy, knowing that God was not stupid enough to give her a son, and not give her the ability to carry him full-term!

Cathy loved the name David, and David it was. After all, she risked her life to give me a son; so it was only fair for her to choose our baby's first name. Moving on, David is the only grandson to my father, Ali. So Ali was of course my choice for his middle name.

I have no regrets, but still, knowing where he came from, there was one name that I wished I could have given my little boy, the name of the miracle maker who was a miracle himself, Emmanuel. As it happens, we have a beautiful tradition in Iran, which allows for a father to whisper his wish-name into the ear of his little boy or girl. The first time I got to hold my son in my arms, I looked into his beautiful eyes, fell in love with him, blessed him, welcomed him into my life, and whispered in his ear, "You are Emmanuel-- God is with us."

David, you were born of love, and you are the gift that has never stopped giving. I love you dearly.

A true man of God

When I was young, I would see my father bring home bags of rice, cans of oil, and bags of non perishable beans and kind; twice a year; and for days My Mom, Dad, Sister and I would fill bag after bag with all these goodies. We were allowed to talk about anything we wanted, except for one thing. We could never ask what he was going to do with the bags. I asked once. "None of your business" was his reply. As each bag was filled, he would put a crisp brand new 100 Tooman bill (equivalent to $100); which he had ordered specially through the bank for this purpose; in the bag and close it. We would then place all these bags in the trunk of his car, and the next day he would take them to places unknown to us.

When I was 15, he asked me if I wanted to go with him. I was of course dying to know what he did with all these bags, so I gladly accepted. As it turned out, he had a network of friends who would search the city throughout the year for those who had true needs, and he would drive these bags of goods to each of the houses of these people. As we stopped at each house, my job was to take a bag out of the trunk, place it by the door and ring the bell or knock, and then run back to the car as fast as I could.

Being 15, I was dying to see the faces of the grateful people, as they were faced with this benevolent gift of charity; so I took my sweet time at one of the stops. I heard my father screame: "YAHYA, Bepar too machine (get in the car NOW.)" As we drove away, he explained to me that these were gifts from God, and that we, the servants, were never to steal God's Glory from Him. "If they see you" he said, "they will have you to thank, but if they see no one, then they will have to give thanks to God." I have been a student of religions for nearly forty years, and I have yet to experience anything that has impacted my faith as much as this experience has.

For many people in this world, a band of terrorists are the only representatives of Islam they will ever meet. To me, however, my father is still the man who truly represents my God. My father was just one man among thousands upon thousands of men who serve God daily, in truth and honor, but they are rarely known; for what they do they do in silence, for the glory of God and not for man. Regardless of their religion, men like my father are the true men of God, and my source of inspiration.

May God bless you Baba-Jon. I miss you dearly.

My New Year Resolution

I did a good-do-bee tonight!! (Tonight is Memorial Day, 2011.) There was such a nice breeze outside that I decided to take a walk around my new neighborhood (we just moved). The place is gorgeous. Anyway, towards the end of my walk, I saw a family; dad, daughter and son; slowly walking towards the community grill with Burgers on a tray. I don't know why, but I felt compelled to walk towards them and talk to them.

Hello. Are you by chance a veteran?

Yes. As a matter of fact I am.

Well, I am sure you won't hear too many of us (Middle-Masterns) say this, so may I say thank you? He didn't know what to say. He saw my hand reaching. He took and shook my hand as I told him, thank you and God bless you".

It felt good to see the smile on that man's face, and even better to see them on his children's faces. My new-years resolution was to make a difference, and tonight I think I did.

My beautiful American family and friends. Chances are that you won't hear too many of us, Iranians, say this to you, so please make this one count. May God bless you, and may God bless America,

Yahya

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