It is not
uncommon for my bedside table and office desk to be covered with homemade cards
and drawings of animals. The illustrator of these gifts is my daughter Faith
Elizabeth Piva, born two years after Micah.
When I think of creativity and imagination I think of
Faith. A number of my memories with Faith include building things together. We
are either putting together small wooden furniture for her toy mice, making a
model house, figuring out how to produce bouncy balls from a craft kit or
working on a puzzle. For example, one time Faith took a piece of paper, taped
it shut with a caterpillar stuffy in it and hung it in her room as a cocoon. A
few days later she came into my bedroom as I was waking up and, holding a
butterfly stuffy, said, “Dad, the cocoon cracked!”
Faith loves animals. She’s even told me that she
is only a human in real life, but a puppy in her imagination. She loves reading
stories about animals, pretending to be a vet and playing with our cat Sophie
(although she says that she would trade our cat for a dog if she could). On
bike rides she says that she is actually riding a black horse.
On one occasion Faith’s gift-giving, craftiness and love
for animals all came together beautifully. It was when our neighbour’s dog Abby
died. Faith had a picture of Abby on her camera and decided to use it to put
together a booklet. With drawings, photographs and a write up that said, “Abby
was my favorite dog. I love Abby”, Faith presented this book to our neighbours.
They were so touched by it they came by later with a stuffed dog that was Abby’s
favorite toy and gave it to Faith. Faith named the stuffy Abby and it is still her
favorite stuffy that she sleeps with every night.
Faith’s creativity comes out in the activities she puts
together for the family. She once invited us all to a graduation ceremony for
her stuffed animals, complete with grad hats, diplomas and walks across the
stage. Another time she turned her bedroom into a carnival, gave us each a
stuffy to go to the carnival with, and there we could win prizes, get tickets
for new games and go on a zip-line. She has also put together a number of skits
for the family. Faith keeps us well entertained. Who needs a TV!?
One of
the things that Faith and I used to do before she went to bed was act out a
number of “silly songs” that we invented. These usually woke her up more than
helped her get sleepy, but I couldn’t resist. Often they were not “songs” but
goofy scenarios we would play out. In one of them I would pretend to put her to
bed and leave the room. I would then come back as an elephant or a lion and
jump on her bed and attack her with tickles. When she would call out for her “dad”
to help her, the “lion” would disappear and “dad” would reappear asking what
was wrong. Faith would explain to me that a lion had attacked her. For that she
would “get in trouble” for making up stories and not going to bed. I would then
turn her over and pretend to spank her by lightly patting her on the butt.
In another scenario we’d I would enter her room as a
zombie that would only turn into her dad if she kissed me. If she kissed me while
I was her dad however, I would turn back into a zombie. One other that definitely
wasn’t a sleep inducing game was called “potty”. I would lie on my back with my
knees up. Faith would sit on my knees as if she was sitting on the potty and suddenly
I would open up my legs and she would fall down into the potty and get flushed
away. We loved these games and would giggle and play them until we got in
trouble by Mom.
Faith is strong minded and quite talkative. (Actually,
everyone in our family is talkative, which can make van rides and board games
quite loud). Having two older brothers has developed some tomboy characteristics
in Faith. She holds her own in wrestling on the trampoline and hates wearing
skirts and dresses. She enjoys going on her “day out with dad”, but refuses to
call them a date.
Discuss: If you are a last born tell us a story about what it is like being the last born. If you are a parent, tell us a story about your last born.
Sanctification
ReplyDelete“Fire scorches
against me
burning my stains
leaving nothing but
holes ready to be
filled with You”
She was eleven years old when she wrote that little poem. My youngest child,
that sickly baby that cried in endless nights for six months, until doctors realized she had multiple allergies.
Her fight for independence, begun early in her life from wanting to feed herself, even when eye/hand coordination wasn’t all there and -she ended up feeding the floor more than herself -to overseas missions as a teen, she wanted to do it all and all on her own!
She spent her earlier teen years, dressed in vintage clothes, having her hair purple and begging us to let her pierce her eyebrows. Vintage clothes and purple hair is one thing but piercing? So we remained in the battle field until thankfully she got tired of asking and began expressing herself through art, song writing and music became her passion.
She took piano lessons since she was five and wanted to abandon the lessons a few times, but her dad’s German tenaciousness ,helped her through those rough patches and she continued with piano ,now that she is a piano teacher she is so thankful her dad didn’t allowed her to quit ! She has being doing worship music since her early teens and was her, who taught me to appreciate worship music beyond the traditional/contemporary styles and pray for the music leaders of the church.
We pray for our children but there is always one that keeps us on bended knee, my youngest child was and still is that “one”!
It is not because she was or is a problem child, not at all! But she is the one who always “pushed the envelope” extended her soul a little further the one with wings, and the one whose kite tickled the sky…
She met her American husband in Thailand as both were doing missions there. She married and lived in Michigan for five years. They gave us a grandson, Asher is the most handsome boy! Now they are in the process of adopting a child from Ethiopia and here is grandma praying, I can’t wait until that other grandchild arrives and grandma will keep praying. A fragment of my daughter’s poem from 1995
“…but through your grace
Your bountiful love
Your unceasing mercy
I am made lovely
I am made pure
And you whisper to me
-You are my child-
Alicia