Child of Grace

And This Is Goodbye

2011-07-10T13:53:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of changes I have needed to make for a while. Most of them, I'm only realizing now. Some are personal, some have to do with parenting, some are changes that Carl and I need to make together.

One of those changes, for me, involves spending less time on the internet and more time focused on other things, real life things. Much of my internet time has been a form of escape, and instead of escaping, I need to work at where and who I am, right now.

So, instead of maintaining two blogs, I am not going to be updating this one anymore. Any blogging that I do will be focused more around writing - at E Louise Bates. I also cut back on the blogs I follow - most now are writer's blogs.

I'm still on Twitter and Facebook - you can keep in touch with me that way or through my writing blog. Child of Grace, though, has served its purpose.

I have made some wonderful friends through blogging, and I am glad that I will be able to keep it up, if just with a different focus now.

Thank you for understanding, and hopefully I'll see most of you over at my other blog.

Mountain Peace

2011-06-27T08:30:00.000-04:00

The only advantage to the littles keeping each other awake until all hours of the night (seriously, I think I fell asleep before Grace last night) is that they sleep in nice and late in the morning occasionally, giving Mamma a blessed bit of time to herself. It's been an hour now since Carl left work, and I've had coffee and breakfast without either getting cold (did you know it is possible to drink an entire cup of coffee without having to reheat it? I didn't!), gone through Psalm 33, and am now going to see how much of a blog post I can get written before one or both of them comes down demanding bananas and orange-juice-and-milk (it sounds nasty, but it's the only way they will drink milk, so I don't complain).

We very heathen-ish-ly skipped church yesterday to take a long hike instead. It rained on and off all day on Saturday, and we have learned that if the littles don't get at least one full day of outdoor activity on the weekend, it makes for a much longer week. We figured God wouldn't smite us for skipping one Sunday.

Not only did he not smite us, the hike was glorious. I was not in a very happy mood during the drive (see above re. children not sleeping), mostly due to exhaustion and frustration over Joy's random and violent temper tantrums that have cropped up lately and made this last week miserable for everyone. So I had my doubts about the hike. Once we got there and started walking, things got better. The fact that the littles not only did not start clamoring to ride in the "pack-packs" (backpack carriers) immediately, but were quite insistent on walking by themselves, even climbing over slippery rocks and roots and going up steep hills without help, made it even better. Seeing the mountain laurel in bloom improved things yet again.

And when we reached the top of the mountain, and were there just the four of us, singing praises to God ... well, that just capped things off.

(The littles are now up. As I suspected, the very first word out of Gracie's mouth was "Na-na!" So while they are temporarily satiated with their bananas, I'll try to wrap this up with a point.)

We are learning firsthand, Carl and I, the difficulties of going against the grain. It's hard to talk about without sounding like we're falling into reverse snobbery - "all you little people doing what is expected, while we are SUFFERING for being DIFFERENT. And, of course, more spiritual."

But it's not like that at all. God calls all of us to different lives and different paths, and we know that there isn't one way to live that's more spiritual and/or better for everyone. It just - Carl's a structural engineer. He designs bridges. One of the best and safest jobs you can have in America right now, right? Except he's miserable. God is calling him to change direction drastically. Go back to school for theology. Get his doctorate, probably overseas. Teach at the college level, either here or in another country, we can't even think that far ahead yet. Give up engineering to train others in the knowledge and love of God.

It's awesome and exciting and scary, and while we are so ready to do this, we've been finding obstacle after obstacle thrown in our path. Sometimes it's something simple, like just being tired. Sometimes it's people, people who ought to be encouraging but instead try to make Carl feel guilty, like he's being an irresponsible husband and father by changing careers like this (psst - professors can support families, too, shockingly enough). Sometimes it's things at work being so stressful and consuming that Carl can't think beyond the office. Sometimes it's children being so trying that he can't take any time away from helping me when he's home for studying. Sometimes it's just the overwhelming hugeness and unknownness of it all.

Sunday, standing up on that mountaintop, looking over the wondrous creation God has given to his people, we found some grounding, some reassurance. His peace seeped in and gave us strength. As we hoisted the girls on our backs for the climb back down, I grinned cheekily at Carl and said "This is it, babe, our testing. If we can make it down this mountain hauling these two, we can do anything, even go to Chicago for your school. If not, we might as well give up and settle for middle-class complacency."

We made it down.

Ascribe Glory

2011-06-23T07:50:00.000-04:00

Psalm 29

1 Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings,
ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.
2 Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name;
worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness.

3 The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the Lord, over many waters.
4 The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.

5 The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars;
the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon.
6 He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,
and Sirion like a young wild ox.

7 The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.
8 The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;
the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

9 The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth
and strips the forests bare,
and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

10 The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;
the Lord sits enthroned as king forever.
11 May the Lord give strength to his people!
May the Lord bless his people with peace!

I have been studying through the Psalms for quite a while now (and by "quite a while," I mean "I study diligently for a time, then something happens and I take a couple days off, then I forget until my spiritual life gets rocky, at which point I begin the cycle over again." Just to keep it real). I read this one a few days ago, and I keep coming back to it, just to re-read and soak in its glory.

I wanted to share my notes from vv 10-11 (most specifically v 11):

The Lord, the sovereign one over all creation, also loves and protects his people. No matter how dreadful the storms of this world may seem, Yahweh powerfully and lovingly guides his children through them. In the midst of a world that can often seem overset by chaos, there is peace in the reminder of God’s glory, power, and sovereignty.

Such comfort and hope in this thought! This world is so often a sorrowful and frightening place, and knowing that there is a loving father ( if there's one thing I've learned through my Old Testament studies, it's the concept of hesed, which loosely translates to "lovingkindness" and contains the idea of the loving covenantal relationship God (always referred to as Yahweh when speaking of him in the covenantal sense) has with his people) who is not only in control over all the strange forces of this life, but who cares personally for us, covering us with his gentle protective hand, at the same time mighty to save ...

This is the one thing I cling to, the one thing that keeps me going through the many storms of life. As it says in the children's song so well:

Jesus loves me, this I know ...

The God who created and still rules over this world, he created me, specifically and purposefully, and he loves me, no matter what. I can do nothing to lose his love, just as nothing I did earned it. He gives it freely and without price. Or rather - the price has already been paid, by his Son.

What a Savior!

Story Time With Joy

2011-06-17T12:42:00.002-04:00

The story of Mr Jeremy Fisher
as told by Joy, age 3 and 1/2
Adapted from Beatrix Potter

Mamma: Once upon a time ...
Joy: There was a frog.
Mamma: What was his name?
Joy: His name was Mr Jeremy Fisher.
What did he do?
He lived in a house. With a window. He opened the window, and he went out.
What did he do then?
He went through the window back inside.
And then what happened?
He had a pink fork.
Anything else?
He had a spoon, too.
What else?
He had food.
What kind of food?
Spaghetti. A lot of spaghetti.
Then what did he do?
He ate all the spaghetti.

Was anyone with him?
No. He was all alone.
He must have been hungry!
He was!
What did he do after he was done with the spaghetti?
Nothing.
Is this the end of the story?
Yes.

Into the World, With Laughter

2011-06-13T08:46:00.000-04:00

I peeked in the kitchen as the girls were sitting at their little table, Joy with a bowl of frozen blueberries and Grace almost finished with her apple, both of them still in their jammies. I blinked, and in an instant it almost seemed like I could see them several years down the road, still sitting at that table. Grace had colored pencils and a sheaf of paper, and she was busily drawing an elaborate and intricate map of her own world; while Joy, on the other side, had a long pencil and her hair falling across her face as she scribbled down a story for that world.

I have no idea if Joy will write stories, or Grace like to draw. I don't believe this was a "true vision" at all. I do believe that the girls will continue to be best friends as they grow up, sharing dreams and ideas and projects.

And it was nice, in that moment, to be reminded that they will not always be this small, this physically exhausting. Joy didn't fall asleep until 9:30 the previous night. Grace was closer to 10:30, and then she was up by 6:30 in the morning (darn second-year molars! Though I'm utterly thankful they seem to be moving in more quickly than Joy's did, so I am trying to hold onto that to temper my frustration), cranky ever since.

These days are difficult, but they are laying a foundation for the rest of the girls' childhoods. These are the days that set the pattern. Not that things can't change, but even change is built off the beginning.

I'm glad, even with everything else that I wonder if I'm screwing up, that their foundation is friendship, love, and creativity.

And laughter. Always, lots of laughter.

Thanking God for His Grace

2011-06-09T08:45:00.000-04:00

This morning, for a change, Joy got up before Grace. And, also for a change, she didn't run right over to Grace's bed to poke her awake (the few occasions that Joy has gotten up first, she seems to think it so odd that her sister is still sleeping that she immediately must remedy the situation). Instead, she came downstairs, and since Carl had already left for work, it was just the two of us. We snuggled on the couch for a while, resting and talking over our plans for the day and weekend and occasionally giggling as Joy poked me in the throat (gently, don't worry, it was really more like a light tap with her fingertip).

It was nice. Joy has never been my snuggler, so being able to just cuddle together for a little bit this morning was really wonderful.

Then we got up, I sliced up a banana for her, started heating up some quiche for me, and we went out to the porch for breakfast. Before too long, Grace woke up and wandered out of the bedroom with her curls sticking out every which way (there are times I bitterly repent of my desire, before she was born, for a curly-haired child. I had no idea how much work those curls would be), grabbed a couple of her favorite stuffed animals, and came downstairs for her own banana.

It's been a nice, restful morning. I have changed a lot of my parenting practices these last few days, inspired by me once again breaking down this past Friday and getting too overwhelmed by it all, and then again on Monday. This has become far too frequent, and after a desperate, garbled prayer one night before falling asleep, the kind that is one giant run-on sentence with no cohesion, that only a Divine Being could understand, I finally felt some peace. And, just as important, God gave me some practical ideas about how to change, also.

(Isn't it marvelous how he works? It's not just vague peace and love without any kind of direction or anything actually useful, but neither is it just cut-and-dried instructions on how to live. God is both, and more besides. He is truly awe-inspiring.)

So things have been getting better. I'm slowly, by grace, pruning away more of the old, selfish Louise, and hopefully emerging as a better person. I've already noticed an improvement in my relationship with the girls, and I think (though it may be a hopeful delusion) seen an improvement in their behavior in general.

(Side note - Joy is helping Gracie on with her sandals, and just sternly told her not to squirrel - I think she meant squirm. And then she sweetly said "Mamma? Could you please help Grace with her shoes?" Cue the heart-melting.)

Now I'm completely distracted. Where was I going with this?

I don't remember (I also haven't been sleeping well again lately, due to heat and small children waking up early and being just in general too tired to sleep, which always seems manifestly unfair). But I do remember God's words to me, so I'll close with them:

"You are not a bad mother, wife, daughter, friend, and everything else you've been saying. You are my child, and I love you. Yes, you have made mistakes, and have been getting set into bad habits. You are human, after all. Is it pride making you want to be perfect? You will always make mistakes, but by my grace, you will be able to do better. I will help you, and you will do better. Stop fretting."

And by his grace, I am doing better.

Thank goodness for grace.

Say What?

2011-06-04T16:29:00.000-04:00

As we were walking through the park this afternoon, Joy with me and Grace with Papa, I thought I heard Joy say,

"I have to go find Papa sexy."

My head immediately whipped around to make sure nobody had heard her, and then I started wondering desperately where she had heard that - Carl and I have been SO careful in what we say around little ears ever since she got old enough to start imitating our words.

"Um, Joy?" trying to sound nonchalant. "What did you say?"

She gives me her patented disgusted stare at having to repeat herself. "I have to go find Papa and Sissy!"

My heart started beating again. Oh. Alrighty then. I let her run on ahead to catch up to Papa and, er, Sissy - and then, I confess, I burst into helpless giggles.

I mean, sure, I find him sexy, kid, but not you!

English Muffins and Love

2011-06-02T09:23:00.001-04:00

My mom makes the best English Muffins. She always toasts them just right, and loads them with butter that melts and runs down your hand when you take a bite. They are divine.

I'm sitting on the porch with my coffee, listening to the girls' Pandora station, and Grace is in my lap, bobbing her head from side to side in time to the music. Joy is in the chair next to mine, eating an English Muffin. I did my best, but it's not like Oma's.

A little while ago, I had an experience I described as "a rubber band that has been stretched to its extreme limits for six years finally snapping back into place." It hurt a little, but oh, the relief was exquisite. I finally felt like me again. It didn't come from an outside experience, either, just a frank chat between God and me. It was pretty awesome, actually.

Spending ten days with my family, especially with seeing grand old friends the first weekend, and my extended family the second, served to really root me in that grounding process that began all those weeks ago.

My parents have made incredible sacrifices for my sister and me, for over thirty years. Yet if you ask them, they wouldn't look at it as anything remarkable. That's just what parents do. Even when their kids are grown, they insist on paying for a special night out. They give up their own dreams to work a job that pays the bills so their family can have food and a roof over their heads. They drive five hours to be their daughter's patient for her dental hygiene finals. They come to visit their other daughter and spend the weekend taking care of little chores she can't do on her own. They give up their limited free time to fix our clothes so they fit us right, or adjust an outlet in the basement so we can fill the small pool for relaxing on a hot day.

They make the world's best English Muffins.

I'm not there yet. I still struggle with wanting my own thing, instead of doing what is best for my kids. I am, by nature, selfish and indolent, and always have been. It will take a major work of grace in my life to overcome that. But I'm working on it. One English Muffin at a time, one small sacrifice at a time.

It may take me thirty years, but I hope by the time my kids are grown, they are able to see my love for them shown in such tangible ways as my sister and I can see in my parents.

With their example before me, I really have no excuse for anything less.

Family Times and Ties

2011-05-31T11:40:00.000-04:00

Family reunion on Sunday = lots of tears, laughter, memories, music, and pictures. And fun, of course. That's a given when the Bates clan gets together.

Seven of the eight siblings with their dad.

The older cousins acting ever so mature with Grandpa. Most of the family pictures from our childhood feature some version of these faces.

Along with the reunion, we spent a lot of time this weekend exploring and working outdoors, having loads of fun in the sun (and even in the rain, when that happened) (which was more frequent than the sun, truth be told).

Three monkeys in a tree.

Grace had a birthday last weekend, and we loved celebrating that with the family. We had my parents, Lis and David, and my grandmother all there, and we had pizza and honey cake on the front porch, with presents and laughter and a pink fuzzy party hat for Grace (hey Mom, I think we left that at the house, by the way). She had a great time, and so did we.

Wearing her new Clarkson (Carl's alma mater) sweatshirt from Grandpa. She didn't want to take it off. I think I need to get her a SUNY Potsdam one so I don't feel jealous.

There were Oma's flowers, of course, and green grass, and little girls wearing bathing suits ("baby suits" Joy calls them) all day long so they could jump in and out of the kiddie pool ("kitty puddle") whenever they wanted. There was a sister night out on the town for Lis and me, there were David and Carl tackling big jobs at Gram's house, there were little people cracking us up with their sayings and expressions every hour of the day, there was shared meal prep and clean-up. And lilacs.

Joy enjoying the lilacs.

There was stress, too, of course, but even that was better because there was always somebody around to take the edge off. When the girls got to be too much for me, I could go upstairs and hide, and I knew someone was watching them. My mom even brought me a margarita, and Carl brought my supper up to me, so I could eat and drink all alone!

Having to clean wasn't much fun, but seeing how delighted Mom and Dad were with the sparkling house afterward, and how inspired Mom was to do some deep cleaning, made it worth it.

We all cried when we had to say goodbye.

The worst part about being part of a close-knit family is when we have to leave.

I'm already counting down until our next visit.

Because I'm Procrastinating ...

2011-05-26T11:39:00.000-04:00

I'm supposed to be vacuuming and dusting and cleaning off surfaces. I am trying to help out my parents while I'm home (and, let's face it, make it more pleasant for all of us visiting) by cleaning the house - they both work so much, by the time they get home they don't have any energy to clean. So it piles up, and then they have even less energy, and then after a while they don't even notice until their daughters come home and start tearing into things.

So that's my plan for today. But instead I'm here, tapping away on my computer, eating Mom's delicious rhubarb crunch, and trying to persuade myself that keeping my sister company while she hunts for apartments online is being productive. Never mind that she needs to clean her place, too. I think we're enabling each other to be lazy.

But it's been a busy week, and we're all tired. Lis and David have been helping my grandmother tear apart the house next door so she can live there. I have been trying to keep the girls out of the construction zone and making meals, keeping up on laundry and dishes, doing everything that needs to be done so the workers don't have to worry about it at the end of the day. Quite the vacation, eh?

Most of my dad's seven siblings, as well as assorted other relations, are coming out tomorrow for our family reunion. We're hoping the weather clears up for them, since they are all going to be camping. Carl comes back tomorrow, too. He will NOT be camping, since we luck out and get to stay with Mom and Dad.

All in all, not a great time for blogging. Which is okay, I guess, since it seems not many people are reading/commenting on blogs lately. What is up with that? Wrong phase of the moon, or just end-of-school-year-lethargy? Or is it that Blogger has been acting up? (I'm seriously considering switching to WordPress or some other blogging platform. Anybody have any recommendations? My only stipulation is that it must be free!)

Although not much blogging has been happening, there have been good conversations - with Gram on the way to and from church, with Dad before I head off to bed, with Lis last night when we had a sister night on the town, and ... not much with Mom yet, but she has tomorrow off, so I'm sure we'll get a chance for some chats then.

Family, good food eaten out on the porch, too much coffee and wine and not enough sleep, sunshine and rain and wind and everything in between (but no snow, thank goodness), long conversations and raucous laughter, construction and flowers and cows in the neighbor's pasture ... what more could you ask from a vacation?

Two Years Old

2011-05-23T07:31:00.001-04:00

Happy Birthday to my sweet, clever, charming, funny, loving, energetic, beautiful little Gracie.

Two years ago you came into this world after only five hours of labor (a nice change from your sister's twenty, even if it did mean I didn't get to have the water birth I'd wanted because you came too soon after we got to the birthing center). With big blue eyes, a forehead that wrinkled just like your papa's when you were thinking, a tiny little rosebud mouth, the nose passed down from your great-great-grandfather, and lungs of iron (the nurses at the birthing center had never heard a newborn that could scream as loudly as you), you were instantly and forever your own person, a joy and delight.

You made us into a family of four, completed us, and started making your mark on this world from Day 1.

Less than an hour after birth

Post-nursing snuggles

Sister kisses. This picture still makes me melt, after two years!

Wide awake and inspecting the world

Today you are a curly-haired imp, full of mischief and fun, with a wicked twinkle (also inherited from your great-great-grandfather, if the stories are to be believed) in those still-gorgeous blueberry eyes, still my snuggle-bug, still with iron lungs, and still making a mark on this world. Your vocabulary is slowly growing, but you have very few difficulties getting your point across just with your expressions and the few words at your command.

I love you so much, and can't wait to see what the next year brings. I know no matter what, it will be challenging and exciting, and, most of all, fun!

Happy Birthday, darling girl.

Being Serious About Silliness

2011-05-18T10:32:00.002-04:00

Taking a page from Adrienne's book (or blog) today, and posting a link to a site I discovered through her: Stuff Christians Like.

Now, this blog has been around for a while, so obviously I'm behind on the times (what else is new?). But yesterday, reading the irreverent, hysterical, and often convicting posts, I laughed so hard I cried, something that hasn't happened in far too long.

I get so easily frustrated at blogs and the like that attempt to infuse spirituality into every single little everyday chore - maybe there are those who can find hanging out the laundry a deep spiritual activity, but that is not me, and constantly reading about those who do ends up leaving me feeling frustrated and uneasily wondering if I'm doing something wrong. I, you see, instead of inserting the reverent into the ordinary, tend to infuse the solemn with irreverence. To paraphrase the Barenaked Ladies, I'm the kinda gal who laughs at a funeral (though as yet I do not have a history of losing my shirt).

Not that I can't be reverent at times, but I do look for the humor in every situation, and so I thoroughly enjoyed finding a blog that did the same with topics many people get WAY too serious over.

Then, because I am also the kind of person who thinks things over too much, I wondered why I found this site so refreshing when I get so enraged at other blogs that mock certain aspects of the church. And I concluded that it is because most of what I've found around the internet tends to be pointing the finger - "Look at how stupid YOU people are. WE are the Christians who have it right." This guy, though, is poking fun at himself as much as anyone else. He's saying more "Hey guys! Look at how silly we all are, aren't we funny and fun!" One of my favorite posts that I read yesterday was his hilarious account of meeting Michael W Smith, and how he totally fangirled all over the place. Nothing in it about "how idiotic people who react in this way are," just admitting to thinking and acting the way most of us do, if we are honest enough to admit it.

It's somewhat like, if I may be allowed a skating analogy here, the difference between people who don't skate or know anything about what hard work it is criticizing the sport and/or the athletes for the sequins, the opera music, the outrageous costumes, anything that could be taken as ridiculous (all while refusing to admit that there are aspects of every sport that could be taken as ridiculous - hello, football, anyone?), and people like Scott Hamilton and Ryan Bradley doing skating routines that rip on the same thing. They aren't putting anyone down, they're poking fun at themselves and their own sport, and not only accepting that there are aspects that are nonsense, but making those very aspects fun.

That was a long sentence. Sorry. (How very AA Milne-ish of me!)

My point, simply, is that it is good to be able to have a sense of humor about yourself and the things you do and ways you think. After all, our God is a God of laughter and joy as well as solemnity and gravity, and I believe he wants us to embrace the ridiculous as well as the sublime. Not to mock it in others, but to keep ourselves humble. And because sometimes, honestly, it's just good to be silly!

To Preschool or Not, That is the Question (Sorta)

2011-05-16T08:30:00.002-04:00

I saw this article on the NY Times today, and it got me thinking. The article (for those who don't feel like clicking on the link) discusses Kumon preschool centers, and quotes many experts who say that such extensive prepping of young children for school does not, in fact, help them at all, and may in fact hinder them.

And I am torn. In principle, I agree with everything in the article.

Yet, I have a set of Kumon preschool workbooks that I am going through with Joy right now.

I feel somewhat of a hypocrite, when I put it down in words like that.

My reasons are all sound, though, and I think the problem comes in when we start to go by numbers and statistics, and forget that each child is different and has different learning methods.

The article emphasizes a few times how much better it is to let kids play, to let them play in the sandbox and play with mixing bowls, and explore outdoors, and stare at ants for hours, to develop their imagination ... and my heart cries "Yes!"

The weird thing is, though, that Joy's imagination has developed more since we started doing preschool workbooks. Her confidence has risen, too. Her timidity is getting better under control. We don't have a sandbox, or access to one. We don't have an outdoors to explore. I hand her mixing bowls, and she stares at me in confusion.

Some kids, I believe, develop better with at least some form of structure, even if it's loose. Some kids gets nervous when everything is absolutely unfettered and free. The amount of options overwhelm them, and they can't focus on anything. Joy is one of those kids. I hand her a crayon box and tell her to pick anything, and she starts to get upset. I pick out all the shades of green and let her choose one of those, and she's a happy and smiling kid, ready to color in her picture.

I would not enroll her in a Kumon preschool. That is, I think, carrying things too far. But for some kids, I think workbooks and some form of structure can actually assist their imagination to develop, give them more freedom to explore their world. Joy is one of those kids. Carl, actually, was one (and he certainly isn't boxed in - goodness, he's giving up one of the safest careers in American today to pursue a crazy dream). My sister was one (she also doesn't have a stunted imagination). Trying to force a kid like that to "just be free" might actually stunt their imaginative freedom more than providing them with a loose structure.

Grace, now, I might not ever do workbooks with. She is a completely different personality than Joy. I will probably go ahead and start trying to teach her to read early, because I think that the earlier a kid can read to him or herself, the better for them. But if she doesn't catch on right away, I'm not going to make a big deal of it.

And if, at any time, Joy acts like she is getting frustrated by the books, or it seems they are holding her back or fencing her in, I'll start looking for different options. Certainly the entire week we were at my parents the books didn't make an appearance at all - we took full advantage of being able to be outdoors almost every day, and there was no need to have to sit down and start practicing cutting and pasting and lines.

In all things moderation, right? I think what is more important than following studies, or trying to figure out the one sure-fire plan to make a kid happy and successful in life, is to know your kid, and learn how he or she thinks and feels, and work from there. What works with one won't always work with another. Success and happiness might look different in one than in another. Maybe we should stop looking at everyone else, and trying to figure out how we can imitate them, and start just living our own lives to the best of our ability.

Butterflies and Birds

2011-05-10T16:23:00.000-04:00

While we were in MA visiting Carl's mother this weekend, we went to Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory. I had been there with some friends several years ago (before Carl and I were even dating!), and his mom had been there even longer ago than that, but nobody else had been. It was one of the things on our "do before we leave the Northeast" list, and after Carl's trip to Chicago, we decided it was better to do it sooner rather than later, especially now that the girls are both old enough to really enjoy it.

And enjoy it they did. Joy was a little nervous with all the creatures flying about - she doesn't like unexpected movement, from people, animals, vehicles, or bugs. But after a couple landed on Mamma and Grandma and crawled around, then flew away without anyone doing more than giggling helplessly because they tickled (Mamma, not Grandma), she calmed down enough to have a blast, even if she did flinch every time one flew too close.

Grace was in ecstasies of delight from the moment we walked in. She burst into joyous laughter as soon as she saw the colorful creatures swooping about, and didn't stop until we left. It was the best almost-birthday-present for our almost-two-year-old we could have conceived.

Not only did they have butterflies, but they had a few exotic birds as well. Grace loved those even more than the butterflies, especially the parrot. She shrieked back every time it shrieked (sounding remarkably similar), and then laughed and laughed. She liked them so much that I'm thinking I want to do a bird theme for her birthday party we're having in two weeks. Any suggestions for that? It's just going to be something simple: my parents, my grandmother, my sister and brother-in-law, and the four of us, so I don't need anything really "party-ish." Just maybe a few ideas to make it really special.

This dark blue butterfly was Joy's favorite, and I think mine too. I told her that I would print out the picture, frame it, and we could hang it on her bedroom wall if she wanted. She beamed in response, so I think she's okay with that idea.

The girls came away so happy, and Carl and I came away marveling at the beauty of God's creation. He didn't need to make butterflies so incredible - but he did. Just to make the world more lovely. What a good God he is!

Jumble Sale

2011-05-06T08:31:00.001-04:00

To celebrate Cinco de Mayo yesterday, I decided to try my hand at flan for dessert. I ruined two batched of caramel sauce, and then Carl tried and had success, but never having made caramel sauce before he cooked it just a hair too long so that it started to harden as soon as we poured it into the baking dish. It came out mostly all right, and tasted fine (just a little bit rubbery on the bottom), but it didn't exactly look beautiful.

Oh well. It was an adventure. I told Carl that if everything had gone smoothly, we would never remember this particular Cinco de Mayo, but now, we will never forget the first time we ever made flan.

(And can I say how awesome my husband is? When I, nearly in tears of frustration, told him the second batch hadn't worked either, he put away his Hebrew without a word and came down to give me a break while he tried. And he never complained once.)

These two pictures are mostly for my sister, who has asked repeatedly to see pictures of Joy's new bob with bangs. Yes, they really are that crooked, but usually she's moving fast enough, or has brushed them awry anyway that it's not noticeable. I'm still not crazy about the overall look, but it keeps her hair out of her eyes, which is far, far more important than Mamma loving the look of a stacked bob without bangs. Plus I watched how they were cut, so I think I'll be able to keep them trimmed myself. Hopefully not so crooked, and hopefully to a longer length than they were originally. I really hated how short they were at first!

One thing I did while at my parents' house last week was go through some of my old boxes of stuffed animals, dolls, and doll clothes. The girls were beyond thrilled, thinking I was unearthing all these treasures for their benefit alone (well, it mostly was for their benefit, but there were a few things I snatched out of their grasping claws - my old and beloved Snuggle Bear is MINE ALL MINE NOT FOR ANYONE ELSE TO TOUCH).

Grace found an old doll bonnet in one box, and promptly put it on her head. She wore it the rest of the time we were at Mom and Dad's. Forward or backward, it didn't matter to her in the slightest. She is the funniest kid ever.

Joy fell in love with most of my old dolls. In this picture she's holding one of my baby dolls (Little Ann, Lis!), wrapped up in a dolly blanket. Gracie has an old Easter basket I didn't even know I'd saved, and the bonnet, of course. Backward. Joy was so careful and sweet with all the dolls; I definitely know what she's getting for her birthday in November. It was really fun to see my girls playing with toys I loved so well as a child.

And that's my hodgepodge for this week! We're off to my mother-in-law's tomorrow, to celebrate Mother's Day with her. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, wherever you are and whatever you do!

Rejoicing

2011-05-03T08:51:00.001-04:00

I must confess to feeling some mild irritation at a number of my acquaintances (none of you guys, of course!). You see, many of them seem to want to suck the joy out of everyone else. They sneer at those who suggest it is a Good Thing a madman terrorist who murdered people for sport is no longer in this world. They also mocked those who whole-heartedly rejoiced with William and Kate during the wedding.

So, let me get this straight. We can't be glad when someone evil dies, but we also can't be happy when an entire nation comes together to celebrate two young people promising to love and honour each other? So when do we get to rejoice?

I mentioned this to Carl last night, and he laughed and said "We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn." (That's from Matthew 11, by the way - Jesus' appraisal of the current generation, who refused to be satisfied with any answer to the promises.)

The end of that passage concludes: "Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds." I do not want to fall into the trap of appropriating Scripture for my own ends, but in an attempt to be wise, I am going to share some Good Things happening in the world recently that have, in fact, filled me with hope and encouragement.

How beautiful was their wedding? I was supposed to be packing on Friday morning so we could come back home, but instead Dad, the littles, and I sat and watched this for a couple hours. The littles liked the horses the best. Me, I was touched by it all. I think the most moving moment for me was when Kate stepped out onto the balcony and saw the sea of people roaring with happiness. She looked utterly stunned, and I couldn't get over how amazing it was to see so many people united in joy for two people starting their life together. Would that we could all celebrate every marriage so hopefully! (There's wisdom for you, eh?)

I'm not ashamed to admit I cried with joy when I found out that David and White (SPOILER if for some reason you haven't heard the results of the Worlds yet) had won the World Figure Skating Championships. I wanted them to win the Olympics so, so badly, and I am still frustrated that they only got the silver. No American team has ever won the Worlds, and Davis and White earned it. I watched the interview with them afterward, and they said that this gold medal was not just for them, but for all the Americans teams before them, who never received the recognition they deserved. Yes! Such a lovely team.

Another lovely team? This brother-and-sister team, who are absolutely adorable, and never have any moments in any of their routines that make you go "Ewww, they're related." Unlike most brother-sister ice dance teams. No tears for these two, just pure happiness.

No other Americans made out so well at the Worlds, though Alissa Czisny had a personal triumph by coming in fifth, and Yankowskas and Coughlin scored higher than any American pairs in ages at sixth place. But the ice dance redeemed the Worlds for me. Who would have thought, ten or even five years ago, that our only medals would be in dance! We have come a long way.

And in final happy news, this morning as I gave Joy a hug and whispered "I love you," she hugged me back and spontaneously said "I love you too, Mamma." First time she's ever said that without prompting!

What has made you rejoice lately?

Thank You

2011-05-02T07:32:00.001-04:00

I had a few blog posts in mind for today - on the World Figure Skating Championships, just ended; on Carl's trip to Chicago; a picture post from our jaunt to the playground this weekend; even just raving about how much I admire the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge ...

But. On this morning, when I woke up to news that the world has shaken (due to our crazy week, we all went to bed early last night, thus missing possibly the most historic broadcast in ten years), there is really only one thing that is appropriate to say. And so I say it.

Thank you, men and women of our military.

Thank you for all your sacrifices, for voluntarily giving up everything so that we can be safe. Thank for doing what you do even when nobody notices. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way, not just for our country, but to make the world a better place.

Today I am thinking of all the people I know in the military - those who have left families, missed the birth of their children, lost limbs, lost lives, lost hope ...

For what you do, for what you have done, for what you continue to do:

Thank you.

(Also, I realize this isn't going to be a popular opinion, but, I would also like to thank President Bush. Others reaped the reward, but you set all this in motion. You guided this country through an unprecedented tragedy, and there would be no good news from yesterday were it not for everything that you put in place.

And this is not meant to be a partisan statement. I'm registered Independent, folks - neither Republican nor Democrat!)

Home Again

2011-04-26T08:38:00.000-04:00

We spent Easter mostly on the road. Left our house at 7:40 (it was supposed to be 7:00, but Gracie waking up at 4:00 again meant that we all overslept), met Mom, Lis, and David at Cracker Barrel at 9:30, and by 11:30 Carl had left for Chicago; Lis and David were on their way back to Buffalo; and Mom, the littles, and I were coming up north for the week.

The girls tumbled out of the car, ready to play outside, just about as soon as we pulled into the driveway. They spent nearly all day yesterday outside, reveling in the sunshine and freedom to run. I sat on the porch with a book, doing some reveling myself, and ended the day with a sunburn. In April. In northern New York, of all places!

It's raining today (surprise, surprise), but Joy and I have appointments to get our hair cut this afternoon anyway, so a rainy day isn't too much of a problem. It'll probably be easier to get them in the car and to the hairdresser than if it was beautiful sunshine out!

Aside from Grace not sleeping well at night (which means I don't sleep well either, since we're all three in the same room), we're having a marvelous time. Which means there probably won't be much blogging this week.

We'll be too busy having fun. For a change.

Season of Joy

2011-04-19T09:55:00.001-04:00

This top picture was taken by my dad (through the glass, hence the blurriness) the first time we took Joy skating. I think her feet were actually on the ice twice. Of those two times, only once were said feet moving.

Oh, and she also refused to let Uncle David carry her at all. Only Mamma or Auntie Lis. Our arms were sore by the time we were done!

That was in early November. This bottom picture was taken (by me, on the ice with her, hence the no blurriness) this past Saturday, our final trip to the rink until next season.

The white on the front of her vest? From falling. On purpose. And getting herself back up again. She hops in place, sometimes falling, sometimes actually staying on her feet. She strokes, not just steps, across the ice. She loves to glide with me pulling her fast. She likes to go fast by herself. She tried sculling on Saturday (we need single-bladed skates for that - her feet went out just fine, but they don't go in so well with the double blades!), and she also tried skating backward. That also doesn't go so well with the double blades; she ended up just turning 'round and 'round in small circles. "Back spin!" I crowed triumphantly (back spins - or any spin, really - having always been my nemesis).

I'm not going to lie. I love that she loves this sport that means so much to me. But I would be thrilled even if these were two pictures of tennis, or baseball, or ballet, or gymnastics, or anything that showed such a remarkable growth and achievement in five months. To go from being too scared to even put her feet on the ice, to showing off for the camera, and not being scared of anything ice-related ...

Well. I had a few moments on Saturday where my throat tightened and my eyes pricked. It was one of those times where the parenting thing was actually really, really great.

These warmer months, we'll spend at the park learning how to kick a soccer ball. Come next fall, though, armed with single-bladed skates, we'll head back to the rink.

I can't wait to see how she takes off then!

Speaking of taking off ...

She really loves to hop!

(And if, next year, she decides she'd rather do something else, I'm good with that, too. Just so you're not concerned.)

Passover Thoughts

2011-04-18T08:27:00.000-04:00

Today marks the start of Passover, the Jewish celebration of God's salvation of their people from Egypt, and more specifically from the angel of death that struck down the first-born of all the Egyptians, and passed over the Israelites because of the blood of the lamb on their doorways.

Exodus 12 details the instructions to the Israelites for keeping Passover.

Jesus Christ was sacrificed for our sins during the Passover festival (Matthew 26:2). He was the Lamb without blemish, whose blood shed for us causes the Lord to pass over our sins (John 1:29). He is the bread of life, in whom there is no leaven of sin (John 6:4, 31-35). I haven't the time to list all the Passover elements right now, but even a quick Google (!) search will give you an idea of how Christ fulfills each one.

As Christians, we are under no obligation to celebrate Passover in the way the Jews did. When Christ died and rose again, he fulfilled all the prophecies, all the laws, and all the feasts and festivals. All pointed to him. We celebrate Christ now, in our everyday life and through the Lord's Supper, through baptism, through group and individual worship, through prayer and praise.

Having said that, there is no harm in looking at him through the Passover. Carl and I are hoping, when the girls are old enough to have an understanding of what we are doing, to do a Seder feast, where we take each element and, through Scripture, show how it pointed to Christ. I participated in one such when I was a kid, and while what I mainly remember is being completely grossed out by the fact that I had to eat horseradish, I also do remember being fascinated by seeing how everything came together in Christ. It helps, sometimes, to have that reminder.

So, whether you choose to celebrate Passover or not, I hope you are able this week to think about Christ our sacrifice, and to dwell on what our Savior has done for us. In him we live and move and have our being!

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.

Potty-Training Update

2011-04-16T21:14:00.001-04:00

A brief scene from any day this past week:

Grace: "Yay!"

Mamma: "Hm, mm - wait, what? Grace, did you say yay? Do you have to go potty?"

Grace: "No. No, no. Nononononono."

Mamma: "No? Are you sure?'

Grace: "Yay!"

Mamma (Now completely confused, because yay is what Grace has been saying whenever she has to go): "Well, which is it?"

Grace: "AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

Mamma: "Okay then, potty time."

Grace (on the potty): "AUGHHHHHHHH - yay! - AUGHHHHHHH - yay! Augh."

Joy (hovering in the background): "She's doing it all in the potty! That's a great job, Grace! Big girl! Wow!"

Grace: "AUGHHHHH. YAY."

Mamma: "All done? Good job! See, that wasn't so bad. Would you like a treat?"

Grace (sounding less like Santa Claus and more like a maniacal dictator giving a deep, eerie chuckle): "Ho, ho ho."

End scene.

I hate potty-training. But I love this kid. She cracks me up every single day.

First-Borns

2011-04-14T09:26:00.000-04:00

Poor Joy.

As I am now in the throes of potty-training Grace (her idea, I swear - I would have put it off for at least four more months, if not six. If not twelve), I am realizing anew how lousy first-borns have it.

As a second- (and final) born, I never believed all that hype about first-borns suffering through so much. Yeah right. They get to do everything first, and by the time you're old enough to do it, it's no longer cool.

However, as a mom, I'm now seeing the downside to doing everything first. You have to suffer through your parents' uncertainties and stress. "No, she stopped nursing a month early, we have to give her formula or she'll be stunted! No matter that she hates it, force it down!" Potty-training involved many tears, screams, frustrations, and trauma with Joy. As I'm sure many of you remember from my desperate posts back then. We're still struggling with consistently doing bowel movements in the potty (I know, TMI), even all these months later.

Grace? I'm more along the lines of, "oh look, you peed on the floor again. Oh well. You'll get it eventually."

As a result (well, ok, and due to her personality), she's already starting to get the hang of going in the potty. We started this on Monday. Admittedly, she still screams every time she has to pee, and makes a HUGE song-and-dance over actually going in the potty, but she's getting there.

It probably also helps that I'm much more generous with treats this time around. "You only got half down your legs, and a trickle went in the potty! Yay, you get a treat!"

Poor Joy. But in case you're feeling too badly for her, know that whenever Grace gets an animal cracker for sitting on the potty, I give Joy one too. Just because.

So maybe first-borns don't have it too bad, after all. Plus, she will be able to get her ears pierced a whole year and a half before Grace.

Hmph. Darn older sisters. They get all the fun.

Larks at Parks

2011-04-11T11:20:00.001-04:00

This weekend finally felt like spring. It was in the mid-sixties, sunny, with a bit of a breeze but not a cold one. Perfect.

Saturday, we were going to run our weekly errands, get me the pair of Birkenstocks Carl promised me for my birthday, and then visit the park. The first store that we visited for the Birkenstocks was closed. As in, had been out of business for a year. Not that they'd bothered to update their website or anything ...

So we changed our plans and visited the other semi-local store, all the while wishing we lived in California or Arizona or someplace where Birks are popular and common. Since this store was about a half-hour drive, we decided to check out the park in the middle of town while we were there, so we wouldn't miss out on our playtime.

This store was open, and carried Birkenstocks, but not my size, and they didn't think they could order them in my size, and they were in general so snooty and unhelpful that we didn't really feel inclined to give them our business anyway. So the entire shoe-shopping expedition was a bust.

The park, though, was great.

We've been going out for walks ever since early March, and Carl and the girls have made it to the park once or twice, but this was the first really nice weather trip, where they could run and play to their heart's content without worrying about mud or patches of snow or getting bogged down because they are still wearing boots and coats, hats and gloves.

It was glorious.

&&&&&

We decided to be true Sabbatarians on Sunday, and stayed home from church to rest. It proved to be so effective that we were able to make it out to our usual park in the afternoon, where the girls (and Carl) had great fun with balls.

This was the first time Joy really took to kicking the ball, and it was great fun for Carl to see her loving a sport that he enjoyed so much when he was younger. Kind of like how great it was for me to see her take off on ice skates. We don't plan to push the girls into any sports, so long as they are able to find some way to stay active as they grow, but it really is great to see them enjoying something that has meaning to us, too.

Joy's not so good at stopping the ball when it comes to her, but she's actually a pretty decent kicker! Grace is still more interested in picking the ball up and carrying it around with her, but I'm sure eventually she'll learn.

All in all, it was a wonderful weekend. Especially when I found an online size chart to measure my feet, and discovered that I could order Birkenstocks directly from the company w/o it costing anything for shipping, AND with free returns if they don't fit. Hurray!

Today is cloudy but supposed to get into the seventies, which is pretty well unheard of in April. I'll take it, though! I do so love me some spring.

These Mothering Days

2011-04-07T09:19:00.002-04:00

Joy is currently cuddled in the big recliner with her soft white blankie, Bo the hippo, orange milk, and a bowl of Cheerios, while watching a Beatrix Potter video.

Grace is tearing around the house, stopping long enough to take handfuls of Joy’s Cheerios and drop them into her own bowl, and scatter a few on the floor like so much largesse before going back to bang on the toy piano, run the little car up and down the stairs, and otherwise spread chaos.

Both girls are sick with spring colds.

So am I, actually, and mine has been made worse by “sleeping” in the recliner two nights ago. Grace had enough mucus build-up that she started coughing it up in her sleep, so I brought her down to sleep on the couch so she wouldn’t wake Joy up, and I curled up in the recliner so I could help her if she woke up again hacking out junk.

It was not a comfortable night.

On the bright side, despite being sick and exhausted, I have been keeping my temper and patience with the girls (for the most part). The house, which I have been keeping immaculate lately, is now falling to wrack and ruin, but out of the two I would rather be a serene wife and mother than a perfect housekeeper. I have been struggling with my patience (or rather, impatience) for months, and seeing that I have been maintaining some level of sanity at this point in time gives me hope that eventually, when the girls are older and hopefully not waking up at 5:30 every morning, or are at least old enough to take care of themselves for an hour until I’m up if they are still waking up that early, I’ll be the fun, Lorelai Gilmore-type mom who is able to enjoy my kids and enjoy spending time with them like I’ve always wanted.

Because, to be perfectly honest? Being a mom is so not fun right now. And I know that life is not all about having fun, but the thought of drudgery for the next sixteen years just made me want to weep. And the thought of being relieved to see my girls grow up and move out? Made me want to weep even more.

I see status updates from my mother-friends on Facebook all the time that say things like “I love being a mother so much” or “I would never want to do anything else” and it makes me feel so horribly guilty, because I don’t love being a mother, not always, and there are lots of things I would rather do.

But two nights ago, after my almost-two-year-old hacked up mucus all over my pajamas, and then proceeded to fall soundly asleep on my chest, weighing so much more than she did when she was a baby, to the point where drawing a deep breath eventually became impossible, and then later, when I felt it was safe enough for her to sleep by herself and I tried to figure out why I used to think, when I was a teenager, that recliners were comfortable for sleep, I realized that I didn’t feel resentful or frustrated. Even knowing that I was losing a full night’s sleep and would still have to take care of the girls the next day.

Instead, I felt calm. At peace, even. And I realized, thankfully, that I don’t hate being a mother. I don’t like the drudgery of day-in, day-out, lonely and solitary child-rearing, knowing that around every corner somebody is ready to judge me, and around every other corner somebody else is ready to ignore my very existence. That, I hate. I hate feeling trapped.

I don’t necessarily love being a mother, in the abstract. But I love my children, my Joy and my Grace. And that is enough.

(And, truth be told, I also really love the fact that in a couple of weeks I will be spending a week with my parents, and my grandmother for part of the time, and will have lots and lots of love help, and support. I think stay-at-home parents in general would have an easier time of it with a wider support group!)

(Oh, and now Grace has shoved Joy’s flower girl basket from last summer on her head and is wearing it like a hat. This girl does not slow down for anything, not sickness nor lack of sleep nor Mamma’s weariness!)

Joy in the Rain

2011-04-05T08:30:00.003-04:00

The girls and I are planning a trip to Mom and Dad's at the end of this month. Carl will be heading out to Chicago to look at schools, and rather than stay here for a week with no car, husband, or anything, we are heading home!

In preparation for the trip, I ordered Joy some rain gear. It's usually nice up north by the end of April, but seeing as how every time we visited last year, we hit nasty unseasonable weather (snow on Mother's Day, anyone?), I decided to be prepared for wet and mud.

Joy helped me order the things (she picked out exactly everything she wanted - I would have gone for different colored boots, but she insisted on the blue), and waited so impatiently for them to come in the mail.

They came in separate packages, but I hid them all as they came, so that I could give them to her all at once. The last piece of the ensemble arrived on Saturday, and she had so much fun trying them all out inside. When we found out it was supposed to rain all day on Monday, one little girl, at least, was very excited.

She had the best time jumping and splashing in the puddles. And I had the best time watching her have fun!

I could not get over how grown-up she looked at times out there, even when she was in the throes of childish glee. Joy has always had a mature face - the kind where, even as a baby we could see how she would look when she was older - but at times I caught my breath with just how old she seemed. My baby is growing up!

And yes, Mamma got new boots too. Can't let my girls have all the fun! (Gracie has boots and a raincoat, too, if you're concerned, but she doesn't like the rain, so we came out to play while she was napping.) It does not take much to make a child happy, really, does it?

The rain is falling all around,

It falls on field and tree,

It falls on the umbrellas here,

And on the ships at sea.

-RL Stevenson

To My Sister, On Her Birthday

2011-04-04T08:14:00.000-04:00

It's hard to believe, these days, that we used to fight as kids. I can only reconcile it to how close we are now - and were all through our teen years - by attributing it to peer pressure. Sisters weren't supposed to like each other, so I was a pest and Lis was superior.

Even then, though, I mostly remember the times of closeness: playing paper dolls in her bedroom, listening to "forbidden" pop music on the radio, quickly muffling it if Mom came by; Lis dressing up to portray the horrible, hideous Old Woman of the Woods my friend Leah and I made up when we were kids; staying up too late at night giggling together in bed; those awful one-minute bedtime stories she used to insist on reading to me while I would throw my pillow at her; going out and about places just us after she got her license; when I finally started listening to her fashion advice (!) (for the record, Lis, I am not planning on letting either of my girls dress for public the way Mom let me, so you don't have to worry about that); when she came swooping over to defend me from the bullies at skating lessons; the many, many boys who befriended me in hopes of catching her eye ...

Thanks for being my best friend ever since we were kids, Sis. And thanks for the two-hour phone conversations we still have these days, for letting me vent about everything. Thanks also for pushing me when I need it, and giving me a metaphorical slap upside the head when I need it, the way only a sister can! Love you, and hopefully we'll get to hang out together again soon! Do you suppose the boys would let us go shopping?

Happy Birthday!

Quilts for Japan

2011-03-29T08:11:00.000-04:00

A few days after the tsunami in Japan, I started praying for ways to help. I felt incredibly helpless, but I had to do something. I've rarely, if ever, had a tragedy strike me so personally, and I still don't know why this particular one should grieve me beyond any other, but it has.

It occurred to me then that there are many people - especially children - who have lost everything, and are homeless now. While Japan does a marvelous job of taking care of their own, what better way to show those people love than with handmade quilts?

Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get quilts to Japan, or even how many I could make. I am a very slow quilter (though I'm hoping with the new foot I just ordered for my sewing machine to be able to start quilting a bit more expeditiously!), and one person alone, even a very fast quilter, couldn't do much.

Then this morning I found the perfect place to send quilts through - they are collecting quilts from all over, so it's not just one person, and they have connections in Japan, so the quilts will have a local distribution center.

http://www.quiltersnewsletter.com/blogs/insideqn/2011/03/18/call-for-quilts-for-japan/

For my Canadian friends, if you don't want to have to ship to the US, I also found a Canadian group doing much the same thing.

http://www.quiltsforjapan.ca/home

If you are a quilter, and you've been looking for a more personal way to help Japan than just sending money, here's a great opportunity! They need the quilts by the end of April, so don't delay too long. I just bought fabric this weekend to start a spring quilt for Gracie, but I think that project will have to way just a little bit longer. She has a nice comforter on her bed already - the need in Japan is a bit more pressing.

Thankfully I have lots of scraps for quilt tops, and reams of fleece to use for backing (which also eliminates the need for batting - nice), so I shouldn't have too much difficulty in putting together one or two by the deadline.

Hopefully some of you will join me!

If You're Boring And You Know It ...

2011-03-25T10:35:00.000-04:00

Wow, between my last three posts I've managed to garner one comment. I must be getting really boring. Sorry, guys!

The thing is, this week has been really terrible for me. I've felt like dirt for most of it. Unloved, unlovable, even unlikeable. None of which makes for really compelling blogging, you know? (And also, I thought I had outgrown the whole angst thing in my teens. Guess it was just lurking in the corners, darn angst. At least it should make good fresh reference points for my next YA novel.)

The good news is, I'm getting out of it. I did a ferocious pre-spring-cleaning cleaning on Wednesday and Thursday, which included moving the girls back into the same bedroom and turning Grace's room back into the playroom (and might I mention that in order to move her bed I had to take the mattress and box springs off the frame, turn each piece on its side, shove and haul it through one narrow doorway, across the hall, through another narrow doorway, and then set it all back up, all while trying to avoid two little "helpers"? I only mention this because accomplishing all that went a long way toward boosting my sense of self-worth). This was all good, but also not compelling blogging.

I'm also working on polishing up my query letter (and I DID blog about that, but on my writing blog, not here), which is taking up my sparse amount of free time.

So, boring life = boring blog posts, and I do apologize. Hopefully next week will be better!

Enjoy The Ride

2011-03-21T11:32:00.000-04:00

We went back to our favorite state park this weekend. My uncle was visiting, so we all went up to run around, play, and look more at the waterfalls. In just one week, the water had increased so they were roaring even more, ever fuller, water always pouring and never stopping.

Isn't it like grace? God pours it down upon us, just cascades it down. Out of his fullness he gives us grace for grace, as John writes.

There has been much happening recently that makes my heart ache, that can seem overwhelming. Japan, obviously, for one. The adoption situation in Ethiopia, for another. Personal frustrations, little tiny things that pile up and seem insurmountable.

And yet. There are rocks and trees and heart-stopping drops along the way, but it only makes God's grace in our lives all the more powerful and impressive. Without the obstacles, our lives would just be calm rivers or streams, meandering along.

With more difficulty comes more grace, and a life lived in the knowledge of grace. It's easy to be complacent when you're a sluggish stream. When God grabs you and jumps over the edge with you (shouting "Wa-hoooo!" as we go) ...

That, my friends, is the opposite of complacent.

And personally, I would rather know God's power, his mercy, his love, and his grace, then slip along in a lifelong stupor.

Let's jump in and enjoy the ride! Our Guide is one who never fails!

The Promised Pictures

2011-03-15T08:49:00.001-04:00

While we were collecting the pussy willows, we startled a pair of wild ducks, who took off and flew out of the marsh. Two proofs of spring, right there!

This picture makes me think of an AA Milne moment!

It is so nice to be able to walk with our girls and have both of them walk (or run, as the case may be). They both still ask to be carried once in a while, but it's not constant, which makes it so much more fun for all of us.

These girls LOVE their Papa!

Without hopping over the fence and balancing precariously on a cliff (which I might have tried had I not had two small children and a husband watching me) this was the best shot I could get of this waterfall. It was far more impressive in real life - Joy couldn't stop talking about it after we got home.

Two in May - my baby's growing up! She is one amazing kid.

Such a nice, nice day. I hope all my birthday celebrations can be so pleasant!

Almost-Birthday Thoughts

2011-03-13T20:44:00.001-04:00

Gracie is snuggled up on my lap. I'm supposed to be delivering her to the bathroom so Papa can help her brush her teeth, but I'm procrastinating. We're all delightfully full from a delicious day-before-my-birthday dinner, and something about cuddling with a snuggly baby who is holding her sister's stuffed kitty and meowing to it is too precious to disturb.

Although her head is getting heavy on my arm!

*****

(an hour and a half later)

Girls are in bed, with teeth brushed, stories read, songs sung, and prayers spoken. And lots and lots of kisses and giggles, of course. I finished washing up the dishes from supper and am taking advantage of the warm-ish night to run my oven's self-cleaner, since the baked sweet potatoes decided to leak out their skins all over the bottom of the oven. Next time, I'm baking them in the microwave!

It's been a good weekend, albeit with a thread of sorrow running through everything whenever we think of the tsunami - which is almost constantly. I am amazed at how many people seem to have just taken this in stride, and I would worry about being over-sensitive except that Carl has been just as shaken by it as I am. I have to confess, it troubles me greatly at how it seems the world has been quicker and more heartfelt in its response than the Christian church at large - if there was ever a time for Christians to show themselves as loving and compassionate children of God, THIS WOULD BE IT.

Were it not for that, however, this weekend would have been almost perfectly lovely. The four inches of water in our basement yesterday morning due to the sump pump not working properly provide the "almost" in that statement! Even that, however, didn't seem so bad in light of Japan (kind of hard to complain about a wet basement with no damage when you look at even one of the pictures from the tsunami's aftermath).

The nice thing, I've decided, about having a birthday on Monday, is that you have a legitimate excuse to drag your celebration out all weekend. So yesterday, after getting the sump pump working again, we went to Panera for breakfast, followed by a pussy willow hunt and a walk in the state park later in the afternoon. There was still snow up on the mountain, but there was no wind, and it was warm enough that even without mittens none of us felt cold while we walked.

Well, until Gracie tripped and fell and caught herself with her hands, at which point she let her indignation at how we could be so cruel as to trick her into walking in snow made known quite plainly. But even then she stuck her thumb in her mouth and forgot about it until the next snowy patch, at which point she demanded to be carried.

It was a nice walk. And I was so, so pleased to find the pussy willows - that's always been a harbinger of spring for me, finding the pussy willows, and I've never been able to find them anyplace we've lived since we've been married. This year, though, we finally tracked them down, and now I have those lovely grey-starred branches delighting my eye (and fingers) every time I pass through the dining room.

We didn't do much beyond church today, but it's still been nice. I enjoyed trying my hand at these cupcakes (part of my birthday dessert tomorrow) this afternoon. They turned out a little squashed, and a little heavier than proper angel food should be, but not too bad for my first-ever attempt. Next time I'll get the cake flour and see if that makes them lighter (I adapted my all-purpose flour, but I still think the actual cake flour might be better). Since they are going to get torn up and used in trifle, though, I don't think the heaviness of them will be too much of a problem this time around!

I will be twenty-nine this year - the last year of my twenties. Sounds impossibly old for me! Carl reminded me that this is the age everyone older than me wants to still be - so it must have something going for it.

I've enjoyed twenty-eight, but I think I will enjoy twenty-nine even more. We'll have to see!

I took a bunch of pictures during our walk yesterday, but I haven't had a chance to get them on the computer yet. Maybe tomorrow!

Trying Not To Fret

2011-03-10T14:21:00.001-05:00

Guys, I need some reassurance.

Gracie is 21 months (she'll be two at the end of May). She babbles all the time, but hardly any of it is intelligible to anyone else. For example:

Louise: "Grace, do you want some crackers?"

Grace: "Eh! Ah-ya-yo-do-yo-do" (while nodding emphatically).

Now, I know through past experience that this means yes (and the nodding is a good clue). Sometimes she can be persuaded to make the letter sound ("C-c-c" when we ask about crackers, for example), and of late she has become very good about always saying "Mu-mu-mu" when she wants more of something. There are times even when we think we can figure out what she is saying by cadence and number of syllables - just now, for example, she came over and I asked her if she wanted to get up in my lap.

"Eh. Ah ooh ah uh."

I'm pretty that meant "Yes. I would like that."

She will always say "bu-bu" for Grandpa, and usually "Pa-pa" for Papa, and she does most animal sounds very well (her owl chuckle is the cutest thing I've ever heard). She will not say Mamma, and Joy's name only occasionally. Other relatives/friends get the babble.

She almost always gets her point across by non-verbal cues, which might be one of the reasons she's so slow to speak. She has the most expressive face! She is also very stubborn, and trying to persuade her to do something is usually a sure way to make her decide not to do it (yes, I am worried about this next year, when she is two).

She also loves to sit and hold a book and babble throughout the pages - pausing as she turns each page, taking a deep breath before the next one - she just rarely says anything that goes along with the book itself (well, except for the Owl Babies book, where she "who-whos" on every page).

So, my question is, should I be concerned about her slow speech development, or is this perfectly natural? Joy doesn't do much talking for her - like I said, she is very capable of making her point on her own - so it's not typical second-child syndrome, where they don't talk because the older one does all the talking for them.

She does have more sounds that are understandable (she recently started saying "ee" when she's hungry, for "eat"), so she has been developing in her speech over the last few months. Just very slowly.

Joy started saying Mamma and Papa around ten months, and her speech just took off from there (which I know is very early, so I'm trying not to compare the two). Of course, she didn't walk until sixteen or seventeen months, while Grace has been running and climbing for what seems like forever. I know that each kid is different, but it would be nice to have some basis of comparison.

I hate to be a paranoid mom. But I also hate to ignore a problem when we should be doing something about it.

What do you guys think?

Also, see what I mean about expressive?

Please Pray

2011-03-09T18:26:00.000-05:00

My good friend Jo just posted this link on Facebook. She and her husband are in the process of adopting a little girl from Ethiopia, and this new ruling could drastically delay things. If you have a moment, could you stop and pray for them and for all the others who are trying to adopt from Ethiopia? Thank you so much.

Call to Love

2011-03-07T08:12:00.001-05:00

I’ve written on this before, but I’ve been reading articles and blogs recently that make me feel the need to repeat it.

If I had one wish for the church today, it would be that we could stop being so unkind to each other. Not even so much that we would stop dividing ourselves, but that, if we must have divisions, that we don’t treat those as excuses for cruelty and judgement.

This started back a few days ago, when I read a couple articles by Reformed pastors/teachers on Rob Bell’s probable stance on Hell. The general gist was, if he believes what we think he believes, we’re done with him. No dialogue. No loving concern. No allowance for the fact that he is asking reasonable questions, and that possibly his answer might have some validity (since the book in question wasn’t even published when these articles were written, they couldn’t, in fact, respond to his answers, just their assumptions of his answers, in light of the questions he was asking). And much of their criticism came, not from the Bible (some did, but not much), but from a position of Orthodoxy and church tradition.

Growing up in a Reformed church that put tradition above the Scriptures (and they did this openly and unapologetically), that is the sort of thing that raises my hackles.

And yet, yesterday morning when I read some more liberal Christian blogs, and they were sneering at the “Fundies” (Oh, how I’ve come to loathe that condescending name!) for tossing Rob Bell out for daring to go against tradition, my hackles went up again, this time on the other side.

My poor confused hackles.

These bloggers were also openly and without shame judging some people who raised concern with language used in Ann Voskamp’s new book. I read the initial post that they were criticizing, and while I think the writer was overly sensitive, I did not think she was unkind or personally attacking Ann, just stating her concerns with the book. Maybe she was unkind later in the comments; I didn’t read all those. But though her viewpoint might justly be called slightly stuffy, she has a right to her opinion, doesn’t she?

Apparently not. Apparently, whether you are Reformed or Liberal, it is perfectly acceptable to rip a person to shreds for having an opinion that differs from yours. We can show love to those outside the church, sure, but those inside, just on the other side, are fair game.

I do not have a problem with writing about your disagreements with other Christians (if I did, I obviously would not be writing this post). But do you know what word keeps coming to my mind when I read all these various pieces?

Cruel.

Cruel, malicious, hurtful, arrogant … not exactly words I wish to think of when I think of my fellows brothers and sisters in Christ.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22.

In the verses immediately prior to this one, Paul lists some of the works of the flesh - the antithesis of the fruit of the Spirit. Among them are enmity, strife, fits of anger, dissensions, and divisions.

I am not sure how anyone can think, from an honest and humble reading of the Scripture, that it is acceptable to the Lord to use mockery, cruelty, and judgementalism in speaking (or writing) to or about other Christians.

“But Paul used sarcasm!” someone might say. Or “Jesus spoke vehemently against the Pharisees and hypocrites!”

To the first point: yes, Paul occasionally used sarcasm to drive home a point. It was an accepted and common form of argument in those days, and was not meant, nor would have been taken, personally. Also, I believe he used plain speaking and loving rebuke with far more frequency than he resorted to sarcasm. And if you must use sarcasm today, I would refer you to men such as DA Carson or Anthony Thiselton, who wield it as a rapier to make a point, not a bludgeon to beat somebody over the head.

To the second point: Jesus used hard words where they were necessary. Yes. He was never cruel. He did not disguise meanness or pettiness as humor. He never said “Judge not … unless you are judging a judgmental person. Then it’s ok.” Or “Love one another as I have loved you … except for other of my followers who are being unloving. Them it’s ok to hate on.”

We are not to alter our actions or our attitude based on how others live. If others are being judgmental or harsh, isn’t it far more of a rebuke to them if we respond in loving-kindness and compassion? If we stoop to their level, or even, as so many seem to do, go down to a level below that, don’t we appear to justify to them their scorn for us?

Disagree, by all means. If you think someone is living or acting in a manner unworthy of Christ’s name, of course you must speak up, or live with a very uncomfortable conscience (or maybe that’s just me). But do so respectfully. Kindly, even. Humbly, acknowledging that God’s love is bigger than the most liberal Christian can comprehend, his wrath more powerful than the most Reformed of all can think, and above all, his holiness greater than anything we can ever hope to achieve or understand, and that these things being so, it is folly to assume we are absolutely right and our brother or sister absolutely wrong.

God is bigger than all of us, and his ways far above our understanding. For the most part, we are all just trying to live the best we can in accordance with the small part of his will we can understand. If we remember that, I think we might be able to be just a little bit more understanding to each other.

At least, that is my hope.

Note: I deliberately did not link to any of the posts I mentioned as having read. Frankly, I don't want to inflict them on others. I wish I hadn't read them.

When I Look In The Mirror ...

2011-03-04T08:55:00.001-05:00

I see specks of toothpaste and smears from little hands reaching out to touch their reflections. Here and there are bigger smears, from Grace trying to kiss her doppelganger (which is positively adorable, by the way, and something I've never been able to capture on camera, though I wish so much I could).

Oh wait. That's looking at the mirror, not in it. When I look in the mirror, what do I see?

Goofy faces, usually, since I've never been able to resist the lure of making faces in the mirror - fake model poses, different exaggerated expressions, that sort of thing. It always makes me laugh.

So, I guess, unlike for a lot of women, the mirror is always my friend. Because the last thing I always see in it, before I turn away and get back to reality, is a laughing face.

I haven't done Five-Minute Friday for a while, but this prompt seemed like something I could work with. Come check out the rest of the posts over at The Gypsy Mama! Also, true story: I actually did this in FOUR minutes, but it seemed like such a good place to stop, I couldn't see blathering for another minute just for the sake of writing. Look, I'm learning moderation!

Learning to Trust

2011-03-03T08:33:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning to finding out more sad news about another friend. Seems like this sort of thing is getting more frequent the older I get.

I turn twenty-nine in a little over a week. I don't feel that close to thirty, but I have been thinking more recently about what it means to be "grown-up."

I was around ten when tragedy first struck close to home - my six-year-old cousin was diagnosed with leukemia. It is a horrifying thing, to be a little kid and realize that someone even younger, someone you love, might die. When your great-grandparents die ... well, it's sad, but they are old, and it's not quite so chilling. But another kid ... it's hard to comprehend.

By God's grace, my cousin survived, and is now the beautiful mama to one sweet little boy born just a week before my Grace, with another expected to arrive this summer. I cried when I first saw the pictures of her little man, partly because I was a hundred weeks pregnant myself, but mostly because I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude over what God had done in her life.

As a kid and teenager, the first question that always came to mind when tragedy struck was "Why them?" I knew that it was the wrong question - Job was one of the first books of the Bible I had ever read all the way through - but that was still the instinctive initial reaction.

Now I'm an adult (scary). Tragedies and hardships are happening more and more frequently to people I love. I guess that's just part of growing up. Miscarriages, illness, death, divorce, financial disaster ... and not all of them with the happy ending God gave my cousin.

Now my instinctive response has shifted, just subtly. Instead of asking "Why them," my first response is a heartfelt, "O Lord, I do not know why I should be spared this." I don't know why some people my age should get cancer while the worst thing I am suffering these days is chronic lack of sleep and tennis elbow. I don't know why I should have had two healthy (albeit miserable) pregnancies, and two uneventful deliveries. I don't know.

But I know it is not because God loves me more than them. I know it's not because I've lived a better life and so am more blessed. I only know that God loves all his children enough to die for them, and that no matter what happens to a person, he is there. Holding them. Using these circumstances to shape them into becoming the very best person they could be.

For whatever reason - and sometimes I suspect I know what it is - he has determined that I need little, constant pinpricks and small trials to form me, instead of big tragedies. And I think it's because it is easier for me to handle a major crisis than it is to maintain joy and peace throughout a series of tiny but unending frustrations. So this is what he gives to me, in order that I might learn best how to die to myself and become more like him.

And so for me, part of growing up means that instead of asking "why them" when I see another hard thing hitting a friend, I pause, thank God for all he has given me, pray for strength and mercy for those who are suffering, and ask him once again to let me never forget how much he loves us all.

I don't have all the answers to human suffering. But I don't need them. For me, it is enough that I know and am known by the good God who does have all the answers.

I am learning to trust in him in all things, small and great.

Tennis Elbow and Teeth

2011-02-28T08:30:00.000-05:00

When my sister was a teenager, she gave herself shin splints from playing the piano (over-enthusiasm with the sustain pedal). I guess I can't pick on her about that anymore, because this week I gave myself tennis elbow.

From typing. And chopping vegetables.

So I am wearing a brace specifically for tennis elbow (the kind that goes on your forearm and provides a counter-balance - and it works beautifully), and trying very very hard to not use my right arm more than is absolutely necessary.

Which is very difficult for someone who is so overwhelmingly right-handed as I am. Even typing with my left hand alone is driving me crazy. I am, however, very thankful for keyboards, because as awkward as it is to type left-handed, I CANNOT write with my left hand. My handwriting comes close enough to illegible even with my dominant hand - it looks like chicken scratches with my left! So I'm glad I don't have to worry about that.

And, in even happier news, we are all currently on the mend, and nobody is yet showing any signs of new sickness. Plus Gracie's second canine broke through, which means she only has two more canines and her second-year molars left, hurrah and hurray.

And now I'm off to figure out which of my usual daily activities I can still do!

Do you suppose I can quilt with tennis elbow?

Changes

2011-02-25T11:03:00.001-05:00

I took the top picture last February, right around Gracie's nine-month birthday. The bottom picture I took just the other day, one of the few days we've had where the sun has shone brightly enough to warm up our porch so we could play out there.

She has changed so much in just one year! I am excited and nervous to get to her second birthday this May. I don't know if this is true for all kids, but for mine, they change the most between their first and second birthdays. First birthday: they still look like babies. Not newborns, of course, but still babies. But somewhere between the one-year mark and the two-year mark, they change from babies to little people. And with Joy, at least, all that's happened between year two and year three has been that she's stretched out and her features have taken on more distinction. She doesn't look like a completely different kid, not like she did between one and two.

See?

Joy: First Birthday (with me only in my first trimester and already puffy!)

Joy: Second Birthday (thrilled to pieces about her balloons)

Joy: Third Birthday

She certainly changed considerably from two to three, but nothing like she did from one to two.

This was Grace on her first birthday:

Making her opinion known, as usual.

Can't wait to see what she looks like three months from now!

(Also? Can't wait for it to be warm enough to be outside in a short-sleeved dress and bare feet. It's snowing again here today. Heavily.)

My girls may keep changing, but one thing is sure. They also keep getting more and more fun, each year they get older.

Tents

2011-02-23T16:43:00.000-05:00

The other day I built a tent for the girls out of a fleece blanket, couch cushions, and the coffee table. As you can see, they loved it. (Note: Fleece will cause static in the hair, especially baby hair!)

Still Here, But Barely

2011-02-23T08:31:00.001-05:00

My nose resembles a radish. The pile of tissues in the trash grows precariously higher. I have drunk more tea and hot lemon and honey this past week than I have in the previous month - and you all know what an avid tea drinker I am.

Carl and I figured out that we haven't had all four of us healthy for more than two days in a row since November.

This winter is trying to kill us.

And we're looking to move to Chicago within the next year and a half, where the weather is even more severe?

O Lord, give grace!

(I hope to post something remotely interesting soon, but right now my brain is mush. I am so very tired of getting sick!)

The Magic in Riverdance (on Ice)

2011-02-20T14:46:00.002-05:00

Riverdance on Ice aired yesterday. You might remember that I was there when it was performed. My mother-in-law was out this weekend (to watch the girls so Carl and I could go see Rise on Thursday night, except they sold out of tickets ONE HOUR before we got there, so we ended up coming home and eating chocolate mousse, drinking white wine, and watching Brother Cadfael instead), so instead of watching it all right then, I taped it to watch in full later, and only caught bits and pieces while it was airing.

The little bit that I did see, however, aside from reminding me again what an amazing choreographer Steven Cousins is (seriously - fantastic job), and how much I love to watch Todd Eldredge skate, and how impossibly fast Padraic Moyles' feet are, brought back the same feeling I had after seeing the show live. Only then, I was still too - well, I've been sitting here for five minutes trying to think of a good word, and the best description I can come up with is too whoosh-ed to really articulate it. Seeing it on television gives me a little perspective.

Before seeing the glimpses of Riverdance on Ice, I wrote a post on my writing blog (have I told you guys about my writing blog? I just started it a few months ago, and I'm really enjoying it - there's a link at the top of my sidebar, if you want to check it out) about the influence Edward Eager and E Nesbit have been on my writing and on my life.

One of the best things I took away from their books was the sense that magic was possibly lurking right around the next corner. You didn't have to be an extraordinary person, or travel to a distant land, to experience magic and adventure. That coin you pick up on the sidewalk might be a magical talisman! The carpet that your mother brings home for your floor might be a flying carpet, with a Phoenix egg tucked inside! That old red book you borrow from the library might be capable of sending you into any literary adventure you wish!

The world is full of possibilities. Anything might happen.

At least, that's how I felt as a kid. Not so much as an adult. Yet, watching Riverdance on Ice, seeing that combination of dance and ice skating, hearing that incredible music, feeling the impossible energy swirling through the building ... I felt that again.

Anything is possible.

For a little while, it makes me forget that I live a rather humdrum life as a stay-at-home mom, where my days are mostly filled with diapers and dishes and discipline. I can forget that I am the behind-the-scenes person, making sure things run smoothly for others. I can forget that I have very little discernible talent for much of anything.

For a little while, magic is real again, and it could happen to me.

I'm almost nervous to watch all of Riverdance on Ice now. I don't want to lose that magic by seeing it too frequently. Maybe I'll save it for a day when I'm feeling at my lowest, when life is discouraging and I'm starting to think that it'll never be anything different.

That will be the time I need that sense of adventure, that rekindled zest for living. So I'll dip into again, and start peeking around all the corners of life, waiting to see which one holds the magic.

If you missed seeing Riverdance on Ice yesterday, and want to get a sense of the magic I'm speaking of, it will be aired on Hallmark, March 15 and 21. Check for times.)

Family Recipes

2011-02-16T10:20:00.001-05:00

My uncle has been posting a lot of old family pictures on Facebook lately - pictures of my grandparents, great-aunts and -uncles, and my dad and his siblings and cousins as kids. It's been great.

This is my current favorite, of one of my grandmother's brothers as a boy, my favorite for one simple reason:

Look like anyone else?

I also like this one - my grandmother as a little girl:

This is my dad as a baby:

And, oh fine, here's one of me when I was about two or three, in front of Grandma's flowers:

I love seeing family resemblance, the traits that pass down from generation to generation, the threads that tie us all together. Looking at all these pictures my uncle is sharing gives me the same sensation I get whenever I use a recipe that came from someone in the family. My sister has started typing up and printing out the old recipes, marking on them who they came from originally, so that she can save the old hand-written memories from becoming illegible with spilt ingredients. I need to start doing that! I love the idea of someday passing down to my girls a recipe binder full of recipes from everyone in the family, including relatives they've never met. What a wonderful way to bring about that feeling of belonging, of being part of a long-stretching chain whose links go back before they can remember.

My grandmother was a wonderful cook. My dad tells me I've inherited her knack. Certainly cooking runs in his family. (I have a very fun memory of one of my uncles calling me up one day - when I was still a teenager, living at home - asking me for a recipe from my sister's "Cookies for Kids" book. I read it to him exactly as printed: "With the help of an adult, carefully crack two eggs into the bowl, checking for any stray pieces of shell," I read solemnly. "Two eggs," he wrote dispassionately. "What next?") Every time I make something, whether it's an old family recipe or not, I feel connected to my past, especially to Grandma.

My sister and I call each other up and talk about recipes for hours. We scour the internet and send each other links to great food blogs. When we're all home, we tend to hang out in the kitchen, and plan our visits around our meals.

As many of you who visit this blog regularly know, my grandmother is in the final stages of Alzheimer's. It is a disease that runs rampant in her family (something that scares me not a little, I might add, and selfishly contributes to my passion for supporting research into how to prevent and slow this disease). We don't get to hear stories from Grandma anymore about when she was younger, like we did when we were kids. We don't get to connect to her personally.

But when I bake a batch of bread, or make an apple pie, or prepare a meal from ingenuity and pantry scrapings, I feel that old connection again. And I know that Grandma will never really be gone, because her legacy has passed to so many.

As my daughters are now starting to enjoy helping me in the kitchen, I know that I am passing Grandma's legacy down to yet another generation, and that those ties that bind are showing themselves in ways beyond just the same nose and eyes.

Even beyond the same stubborn chin and mischievous twinkle in the eye!

Bruises and Blessings

2011-02-14T10:58:00.000-05:00

You want to hear something ironic?

Joy and I were on the ice for an hour on Saturday, and the only falls I took were on purpose and controlled (teaching Joy the right way to fall).

Sunday morning, getting into the car to go to church, I slipped on the ice in our parking lot and am now so bruised and sore that I can barely move my right side.

Ha Ha, universe.

In happier news, it is 40 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside right now. The girls and I went for a twenty-minute walk this morning, and the birds were singing like mad, and I kept gulping in the fresh air. It's supposed to rain later.

Rain in February is, in and of itself, an ugly, bleak, colorless thing. But to me, it always seems sparkly and fresh, the promise of spring. I know the cold weather will roll back in before spring truly arrives, and that we will most likely get more snow, but at least we have a promise, today, of warmer weather to come.

Hurrah.

We are not celebrating Valentine's Day today, though after lunch the girls and I will probably make some cards for the grandparents. I used to be violently opposed to Valentine's Day, but lately I'm more just amused and tolerant toward it. I think it's foolish, but if other people want to celebrate it, am I really going to be superior and snotty?

Besides, I am rarely able to resist doing something special for Carl around this time. And I have to say it is nice to have an excuse for a fun celebration in the middle of hideous February. So, tomorrow, on the day after Valentine's Day, we'll make a nice steak dinner for the two of us (girls will eat earlier), and then just enjoy spending the evening together, just because.

After a truly horrible week last week, this week is promising to be better, even if I am bruised from tip to toe and limping around the house. I'm so thankful.

2011 Nationals: Men

2011-02-12T13:03:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I did nothing but alternate taking care of children with lying on the couch watching the four final episodes of Downton Abbey. I think it did the trick, though, because my illness seems to have been reduced a throbbing sinuses and general weariness, both of which are not uncommon for February anyway.

But it did mean that I missed posting on the men yesterday.

So I'll do it today.

I got so excited watching the first part of the men's long. Every skater was better or at least as good as the previous. I kept thinking, wow, if the first flight is this good, the final flight is going to blow the roof off the building!

Ha very ha.

My personal favorite from the entire evening - aside from Ryan Bradley, naturally - was Richard Dornbush. He skated to Sherlock Holmes, and he owned it. His technical ability was fantastic, but his showmanship was even better. He pretty much had me from the first few moments, when he was puffing his pipe and holding the magnifying glass to his eye. AWESOME. Don't get me wrong, I like Evan Lysacek, but sometimes drama drama drama gets a little old, and you just want to see something fun.

I'm a fan of Adam Rippon. Not only is he from Clarks Summit, PA (which is right next door to where we used to live), he is also loaded with talent to his fingertips. He didn't perform as well as he might have this year, but keep an eye on this kid. He's going places.

I also really enjoyed watched Armin Mahbanoozadeh. He's another I think we're going to see much more of in the next few years. Just a beautiful, beautiful skater.

I really wasn't sure about Ross Miner at first. He was skating to Casablanca, which is so iconically tied to Kurt Browning that I really wasn't sure he could do it justice. To my surprise, though, he nailed it. Mind, I've never actually seen Casablanca, so I can't say whether he was a good Bogie or not, but he interpreted the music beautifully, and his technical levels were impressive. So in the end, it was a win for me.

Then came the top flight, and they FELL APART. Brandon Mroz dropped all the way to seventh. I don't even remember the other men in the top flight except Jeremy Abbott and Ryan Bradley. That's how bad they all were.

And Jeremy. Oh, how I want to shake that boy. He is so, so incredibly talented. And he has the hardest time putting together two clean programs. Ever. He had a strong short program, and just stumbled his way through his long. Even worse than the jumps was the dead, wooden expression. That program needs to be full of life and joy, and Jeremy was just going through the motions.

Jeremy? Get your head together, please! You are an amazing skater! You just need to start letting your head match your feet!

(And also? Please explain to me the significance of the half-coat you wear in your short program. I don't get it, and it just looks silly to me. And very distracting from your brilliant skating.)

And then there was Ryan.

Closing out the night, of course. (Never say skating doesn't provide the drama!)

He had two quads planned, and he didn't execute either of them cleanly. My heart started to sink, but he got stronger and stronger as the program continued, drawing energy from the crowd and giving them everything he had in return.

It wasn't the "dream" comeback, of a perfect routine after everyone had written him off, as it was for Alissa Czisny. But it was good. And it was enough.

(And the backflip he did before leaving the ice, his final "gift" to the crowd? Perfect.)

And when he saw his scores afterward, and realized that he won, I got all teary-eyed again. If anyone deserved to win, he did.

It was all somehow very fitting - Ryan Bradley and John Coughlin were best friends from childhood, and Coughlin's mom encouraged both of them to keep skating right before she died. And they won their titles in the same year.

Alissa was another comeback story, another skater everyone believed was done after last season, another skater who defied the odds.

Meryl and Charlie, everyone believed would win, and yet this season has been a triumph for them as well, a definite throwing down of the gauntlet, letting the world know that they are, in fact, a force to be reckoned with.

Overall, some disappointments, but a strong championships. As we build toward Sochi in 2014, I think the US team is already showing signs of being very, very strong.

Next up, the Worlds!

US Nationals 2011: Ladies

2011-02-10T10:54:00.000-05:00

I stayed up late so I could watch the ladies' long program live. Anyone who even skims this blog knows how much I like Alissa Czisny, and how much I wanted her to win. After she won the Grand Prix Final (against the Japanese, no less!), I knew she had a really good shot at the title again this year, and I wanted to see how it all went down, live.

Of course, I also really like the other two top US ladies - Rachael Flatt doesn't get enough credit, if you ask me, and Mirai Nagasu is just adorable.

None of the lower-grade skaters really stood out to me and made me say "HEY there's someone who's going to be a force in a couple of years." Even Agnes Zawadski, whom the commentators adored, just made me shrug. Yeah, she was good, but to me, she looked like every other newcomer-impressive-energetic-big tricks-blah blah blah skater that we've seen over the years. Most of whom fizzle after a couple seasons, and never really live up to their potential.

But I could be wrong. It's happened once or twice. So when she becomes the next Olympic star, you all can point to this post and snicker.

Then there's Mirai. Sweet, energetic, bubbly Mirai Nagasu.

Get a different coach.

Look, I know Frank Carroll is one of the best coaches in the world, Michelle Kwan and Evan Lysacek and all that, but every time I see him interact with Mirai, or hear him talk about her, I want to slap him.I would so love to see her with a coach who will encourage her and build her up, instead of browbeating her all the time. Carroll's "tough love" approach may be effective with some, but after watching Mirai skate for the last several years, and seeing how she still struggles with confidence, I think it's safe to say that his approach is not the best for her. I would really love to see her with someone like Brian Orser (who coached Kim Yu-Na to Olympic gold), or Yuka Sato and Jason Dunjen (who have helped Alissa Czisny turn her career around).

She's a beautiful skater, and a beautiful person, and I want to see her believe in her own beauty and talent.

My sister and I have a theory about why more people, both fans and judges, don't like Rachael Flatt.

She is built like a real human being.

Like the Hughes' sisters, Rachael is not a porcelain doll, not a tiny little dainty fairy. She has muscles.

She also (again, like both Sarah and Emily Hughes) has a life outside of figure skating. She is a top student. She's planning on attending college. She has a vibrant social life and is extremely well-balanced.

In other words, she doesn't fit the female skating stereotype. And I think, whether people realize it or not, they don't like that.

And so she never gets the full credit she deserves for being the amazing skater that she is.

It doesn't help that her music and outfits never really complement her ability. As others have pointed out, her dresses always serve to make her look chunky and clunky, neither of which she really is. Plus they are very generic-skating-dress types, the sort you automatically conjure up in your brain when you think about skating. Nothing unique, to make them wholly Rachael's.

And the music is the same. My absolute favorite exhibition piece she's ever done was a number to Alison Krauss's "Simple Gifts." The music was strong and simple, and it suited Rachael's skating perfectly.

I only saw her skate it a couple times that season. Then she replaced it with R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Aretha Franklin.

Everyone and their sister has skated to that song ohmygoodness could we please just ban Aretha Franklin's music from figure skating for the next fifty years thank you very much.

I thoroughly enjoyed Rachael's short program. Despite Michelle Kwan's iconic short program to the same piece of music (East of Eden), I thought Rachael owned it. She skated with more passion than I'm used to seeing from her. I was so happy, because I felt like she was finally showing the world something real, instead of just "upbeat perky strong American skater."

Her dress was terrible. The yellow made her look bilious, at least on camera. The cut was dreadful for her. Everything about it sent a completely opposite message to the passion and strength of the routine. I am not an expert on skating outfits, but I would love to see her wear something very, very simple and subdued, to make Rachael's personality really shine all the more. Like, navy blue with some silver detailing. Sleeveless, with a high neck. A longer, symmetrical skirt.

Her long program was back to being just bland. Nothing wrong with it, but nothing really spectacular. If there's one thing I hope for Rachael before Sochi, it's that she finally brings her presentation up to her technical abilities. After all, Nancy Kerrigan was not exactly small and dainty, either. And look at how beloved she was!

And now ...

Alissa Czisny.

What can I say about Alissa that I haven't already? She is my ideal skater: strong; graceful; musical; and elegant. She is Audrey Hepburn on skates. I have been hoping for years that she would be able to learn to control her nerves, and this year, she finally has.

She has truly come into her own this season, and I am so, so happy.

I cried at the end of her long program. What more can I say?

I was going to do the men in this post as well, but seeing as how it took me forever just to write this much, I think the men will have to wait until tomorrow.

(In the meantime, and on a different note, would you pray for me today if I cross your mind? I've been sick this week, and the girls are going absolutely nuts with being stuck inside with no outlet for their energy aside from running in circles around the coffee table, destroying books, squabbling with each other, and ignoring me. Plus the household work is piling up ... and Carl's not sleeping well and out of energy, too. So we're all grumpy right now, and nerves are fraying. Or frayed, in my case.)

US Nationals, Pairs and Dance

2011-02-08T09:57:00.002-05:00

I meant to do this post ages ago, but other things kept coming up. However, here, at last, is Part 1 of Louise's recap of the US Figure Skating Championships.

(I am assuming, in this post, that you either already know the outcome or don't care about finding out. So I am not going to be avoiding talking about the results. Just to forewarn you.)

Pairs:

Ever since Meno and Sand turned professional, I haven't cared so much about US pairs. Pairs in general is my least favorite out of all the divisions. However, last year I thought Denney and Barrett showed a lot of potential, and I really did enjoy watching Evora and Ladwig. So I was willing to watch just to see how those two teams would do.

Denney and Barrett still need some work, but I think they might be able to make a good showing at Sochi, if they continue as they've begun. Evora and Ladwig did really well, and I hope they stick with it until Sochi as well.

Photos courtesy Getty Images

I was, as many people were, thoroughly creeped out by Rockne Brubaker and his new partner, Mary-Beth Marley. The age gap shouldn't be that big of a deal, except - okay, truth? It reminds me of Mr. Rochester and a more excitable Jane Eyre. Rockne is all brooding and dark and intense, and then there's this little girl bopping alongside him, hugely grinning and completely naive.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

And then. I'd heard about everything with John Coughlin and Caitlin Yankowskas, about how his mother died last year, and their routine this year was a tribute to her. I knew it was going to be emotional watching them skate. I just wasn't prepared for how emotional.

I sat there and sobbed through the entire routine. The choreography was impeccable, revealing the story of his grief, her comfort, and their journey together toward healing. It was one of those routines that completely transcends sport or art or anything definable, and just becomes - something more. As Scott Hamilton said (after the routine, when he could finally speak again), they just took all the air out of the building.

"Hug your mom today," Coughlin Tweeted before the event.

In the end, there was no question who had won the title. Although Evora and Ladwig skated a routine that would have won almost any other year, the night was all about Yankowskas and Coughlin. They seemed stunned when they saw that they won, but I think they were the only ones surprised. For everyone else, it was the only possible result.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

Dance:

Of course Meryl Davis and Charlie White were going to win. About the only way they wouldn't would be if they went out there and just stood still. Or, alternately, fell all over the place.

I have to confess that I was in a pretty bad mood when I watched the ice dance competition. The girls were having a bad day, I was tired, and instead of skating cheering me up, I imported my bad mood onto the competition. Plus, I was a little disappointed that Emily Samuelson and Evan Bates weren't there. They've been out all season with an injury, so I wasn't expecting them, but I was still sorry not to see them skate. I have no idea if Evan really is a distant connection or if we just share the same last name, but in any case, I like to claim that he's my "cousin," and I always, always enjoy watching them skate.

In any case, I was not terribly impressed with the dance teams, either (except David and White. Naturally). It didn't help that Tracy Wilson was doing the commentary for the dance, instead of the much better team of Sandra Bezic and Scott Hamilton. I used to like Tracy, back when she was still doing commentary for CBS (ah, how I've just dated myself), but it seems in late years that she's fallen prone to that most horrible disease of all commentators - talking too much, and showing off knowledge instead of helping the viewers appreciate what they're seeing more. At least she hasn't started announcing halfway through the program whether they've won it or blown it (I'm talking to you, Barb Underhill). She's even succumbed to the Bad Commentator Hair. Fight it, Tracy! Grow a ponytail!

Ahem. Anyway.

I know most people really, really liked the Shibutanis, and I could recognize that they are a very good team (and cute! I just want to pat their heads), but I just couldn't get into their program, or even really like them at all. I'm blaming it on the misery of a teething toddler, and I'll reserve judgment until the Worlds.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

I did not, at all, like the other brother-sister team, the Hubbells, for the simple reason that I get thoroughly squicked out by brothers and sisters being all sexy - WITH EACH OTHER. I know they're just acting, but hey, it IS possible to do great ice dance without resorting to looking like you're about to produce some six-toed kids. Seriously, people. Ick.

Sorry, no photo for these two. My eyes!

The bronze medalists, Chock and Zuerlein, were fine, I guess. I'll blame the fact that they looked really creepy to me on Grace's teeth, too.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

I did quite enjoy the fifth-place team, Kriengkrairut and Giulietti-Schmitt, and I had hopes that they would take the bronze - until they fell. I am going to be keeping my eye on them over the next three years. Maybe I'll even learn how to pronounce their names.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

Meryl and Charlie were stunning, of course, and their free dance is breathtaking. If they don't win the Worlds, I will be furious. I still haven't quite forgiven the Canadians for beating them at the Olympics. They were robbed. (And don't get me started on the Russians getting the bronze instead of Belbin and Agosto. That disgusting Original - sorry, Short Dance? And their lame FD? No way, even with the Compulsories, that they should have placed higher than Tanith and Ben. No way.) If they couldn't win the first-ever Olympic gold for US ice dance, they should at least earn the first-ever World gold for US ice dance.

Photo courtesy Getty Images

So, those are my thoughts for the Pairs and Dance. Next up, the singles!

Farewell, Brian Jacques

2011-02-07T10:28:00.002-05:00

Once again, double posting from my writing blog, because I want to pay him as much honor as I can:

I just barely saw the news - not five minutes ago - that Brian Jacques died after a heart attack this weekend.

I am crying and still don't quite believe it. The man who created Martin, Mariel, Gonff, and all the rest, gone? It seems impossible. He should be immortal.

And in a way, he is. He lives on through his books, his beloved characters. His stories about tiny little creatures fighting for justice, freedom, and love against larger, more ferocious adversaries will ring true in the hearts of all who love such ideals, for as long as books endure. His legacy is a great one, indeed.

Less well known than Redwall, but just as good (in my opinion) was his Flying Dutchman series, featuring a boy named Ben and his faithful dog Ned, traveling the world as immortal creatures, righting wrongs and comforting those without hope wherever and whenever they went.

I will miss, terribly, anticipating a new book from him every year. Yet I am so thankful for all the books that he did write, that we are left with. There have been many writers who have tried to imitate his style, but none can match him. The world is a sadder place with this Weaver of Tales gone, but thankfully the tales themselves live on.

May your adventures in the next world be as grand as they were here, sir. And I know that wherever you journey through the Dark Forest, you will be accompanied by a grand troupe of mice, moles, hedgehogs, badgers, hares, squirrels, and otters, all laughing, valiant, and hungry.

You will be missed.

Prayer for Egypt

2011-02-04T09:31:00.000-05:00

I have been fascinated by Egypt ever since I was a very young child. As with most cultures, the mythology hooked me first. I remember reading The Egypt Game, borrowing it from the library simply by virtue of the name, and being equally enthralled and creeped out (but in a good way - you know how books can do that). Mom, being the good homeschooling mother she was, encouraged this interest by doing a series of unit studies on Egypt, until my interest in that waned and we moved on to Medieval Europe.

I've forgotten much of what I learned then, although reading Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody series, and, more recently, Rick Riordan's The Red Pyramid, has helped rekindle my fascination. Still, I've kept a fondness for the nation, and I've always hoped to someday visit, see all those amazing archeological sites for myself.

All of which goes toward explaining why my heart has been so heavy for Egypt lately. The violence happening there would be tragic no matter where it happened, but it might not have such a personal impact on me. As it is, I can only read few of the news articles on Egypt right now, because too much and I just want to weep.

And while I have many thoughts on the effectiveness of a revolution of this sort, and whether, despite my sympathies for the protestors, justice and peace can ever truly be achieved through violence and force, and while I wonder where the line ought to be drawn between standing up against corruption and descending to anarchy ...

Ultimately, I just ache for the many people who have suffered so greatly over the centuries, who are still suffering, and who just want something better. And I ache for the innocents who are always the ones hurt the worst in anything like this.

And so that is my main prayer for Egypt. Not just that justice and freedom would come. Not just that the US would focus more on cleaning up our own mess before interfering with others' business. But that the Lord would bring comfort and hope to the people who are suffering and afraid.

Because all the protests, all the revolutions, all the changes in regimes, cannot bring the peace that comes only from him.

Keeping Secrets

2011-02-02T09:23:00.000-05:00

We are getting hit with another snowstorm. Another thick layer added to this blanket of white, freshening up the slightly grimy undertones.

Flowers that Carl and Joy brought home to me on Sunday are brightening up the inside, but looking out our windows, it seems impossible to believe that spring, and flowers, will ever come again. One tends to think that there will be snow, and ice, and cold, forever and ever, world without end.

Yet life still exists beneath that frozen ground. Not yet, but soon enough, the snow will start to vanish, and growing things will begin to stir beneath the surface, ever-so-slowly pushing their way to the top.

Spring comes, every year.

For now, though, this white blanket wraps our world soundly, holding the promise and hope of spring safe within its embrace, whispering promises of new life coming forth in our ears, keeping the secret well until the proper time for its revealing.

(This post is part of the Madhouse. Come join us!)

Passion Re-Ignited

2011-01-31T15:42:00.001-05:00

I wrote this post: Early Morning Thoughts (Alternate title: Living With Passion) last March, and I found it earlier this month when I was putting together my favorite posts of 2010. Re-reading it made me both smile and sigh - smile, because I still believe so strongly in the idea I began there; and sigh because I don't think I've done a very good job of living up to that goal of living my life with passion, of freeing myself of fear - fear of failure, fear of scorn, fear of judgement.

(Part of the problem, honestly? I'm so tired. It's hard to be a passionate person when what excites you more than anything else is the thought of sleep. The months from May to December were crazy, and with two little ones I am still exhausted. All. The. Time.)

However, I've been thinking about passion again lately. And about how I want my girls to live. Whether I want them to pursue their dreams or live a life of safe normalcy. And about how I've always sold myself short, never believed that I really could accomplish great things.

I was talking to a friend this week, and told her that I've always, ever since a little girl, been able to keep my imagination from taking over my life, by keeping my two worlds strictly separate. There's my dream world, where anything and everything is possible. Then there's reality. And I can live quite happily in reality, without expecting it to be anything more than what it is, because I have my dream world too.

In some ways, I think that's a good, healthy outlook. But, thinking it over, I also wonder if keeping those two so strictly separated didn't cripple me a bit, because I wouldn't go after my dream in reality, always assuming that I would fail.

Why didn't I stick with figure skating once I discovered that I not only loved but was good at ice dance? Because I knew I was too old to have a competitive career? Partially, but also because I was afraid that before long I wouldn't be good at it anymore. Because it was really hard being almost ten years older than all the other kids in my skill bracket. Because I was too afraid to pursue my dream.

Why didn't I keep up with voice lessons after a few years? Because I thought it was ridiculous to dream about actually doing anything with my voice, and I figured I had gone far enough for someone who only wanted it as a hobby.

I don't push myself enough. I never have. I didn't get my driver's license until my permit had almost expired and I had to get it. Even now I won't drive unless I have to. I still don't know how to ride a bike - I didn't care enough to ask someone to help me learn when I was younger, and since then I just got too embarrassed, being as old as I was and not knowing how to ride.

My parents, maybe, ought to have pushed me more. But they didn't. They paid me the honor of respecting my desires and allowing me to make my own choices about what I wanted to chase and what I didn't.

(Plus, I was - and still am - pretty darn stubborn, and usually when someone (Elisabeth) pushed me to do something, I would dig my heels in and be more determined than ever to not do it. The curse of being a younger sister to a very charismatic and decisive older sister, I guess.)

I'm an adult now, and old enough to not be worried about what people think. I'm also at a place where I am thinking about how I want my girls to grow up, and what sort of an example I want to set for them.

I've been taking Joy skating these last few weekends, and my love for it has blossomed fresh. Watching the Nationals this past weekend (I'll do a recap post later this week), especially seeing Alissa Czisny and Ryan Bradley come back and do what no one - not even themselves - thought possible, has inspired me even more.

I looked into it, and the options aren't great around here, even if I could work it around the girls. But - I'm saying it here on my blog so you guys can help keep me honest -

When we move to Chicago and our lives have settled a bit -

I'm taking ice dance lessons again.

Not because I think I can be competitive at my age and skill level. But because I love it. And I am - or was, at least - good at it. And I want to go as far as I can with it. Just because.

I was working on my pre-bronze dances when I quit before. Do I think I can make it all the way up to a gold level?

I don't know. But I'm going to find out.

I'm not going to let fear of anything stifle my passion.

Not anymore.

What are some things that maybe you have always wanted to do but have held back on? What has held you back? Do you think you'll ever try to go for them? Do you live with passion or prudence, and why?

(And I apologize for any typos or unconnected thoughts - I just typed this and published it, no chance for second-guessing myself. So it's not exactly polished.)

This Is My Life

2011-01-28T11:57:00.000-05:00

So.

I wrote out a basic schedule.

It was a nice schedule. It worked really well for the first two days.

Then.

Gracie started waking up around 4 every morning, which meant she started sleeping later in the morning.

Which seems like a good thing.

Except that now she's refusing to sleep during her morning nap and apparently wants to take after-lunch naps instead.

Which completely throws off the schedule.

(And also, incidentally, might mean that I no longer have an excuse to skip church because of her naps - which also might seem like a good thing, but for the fact that those few hours of alone time at the start of each week do more for my spiritual and mental health than the best sermons in the world. I know. I'm so unspiritual.)

And I have this nagging feeling that if I switch the schedule all around to accommodate an afternoon nap instead of a morning nap ...

She'll go back to waking up at 5:30 and wanting to nap by 10.

I'm starting to remember why I never used to bother with a schedule.

Just Doing Our Best

2011-01-26T09:01:00.007-05:00

Gracie (whose latest nickname around here is Bundle, given that she can be a bundle of sweetness, misery, or mischief at any given moment, depending on her whim, and which I find amusingly appropriate, reminding me as it does of Lady Eileen “Bundle” Brent, from two of Agatha Christie’s Superintendent Battle books) is snuggling in my lap right now, thumb in her mouth, brown curls brushing my chin. Every once in a while she pops up enough to toss a Cheerio in her mouth or sing along with the music on my laptop.

She’s not sick, even if she did sleep two hours later than usual this morning (7:30 instead of 5:30 - oh how I rejoiced!). She’s just always extra snuggly when she’s teething. Except for the fact that this means I can’t get any work done while she’s awake, I love it. Joy is only snuggly when she’s very tired or a little sick, and she always was that way, right from a baby. I’m thankful one of my children is a cuddler.

Speaking of Joy, she’s - ahem - testing right now. I tell her she needs to not play with her fingers until she’s done eating (she gets so caught up in making her fingers “skate” along the table or her legs that she forgets to eat), so she mostly stops, and just waves them gently - not quite disobeying, but seeing how far she can push before I say something. Now she’s trying to skate with them under the table or behind her back - apparently hoping I won’t notice.

I wouldn’t mind it so much except for two things: One, when she does this, like I mentioned, she forgets to eat and it takes her two hours to eat a piece of toast and half a banana. Two, now that we’ve started telling her to wait to play with her fingers until her food is all gone (unless it’s snack time, because that’s just fun time anyway), she does it deliberately, trying to see what she can get away with.

I took some sharp criticism from someone this week for the fact that I am constantly getting after the girls for the need to obey, to have a good attitude. She felt I was far too harsh with them. I wish she had spoken to me openly about it, instead of sending an email after leaving early because she was so upset. I would have tried to explain that if I let something go even once, it becomes a major issue and requires an enormous amount of work to deal with later on (from experience). I wish she could have seen how happy Joy is right now, having finished eating promptly, due to my constant reminders to focus on her food instead of her fingers, and being able to get down and play instead of sitting in her chair for another hour. I wish she had paid equal amounts of attention to the praise and positive reinforcement both Carl and I try to give the girls, more than the negative most of the time.

(In fact, she specifically mentioned that she didn’t like that I was always telling them they had a bad attitude. Maybe I was just off that day, but I hardly ever tell the girls they are having bad attitudes. Most of the time I tell them that they need to have a good attitude, which of course implies that they are not, but is still giving them a positive to focus on instead of a negative. I think maybe she put a more negative interpretation on it, although, like I said, I might have been having an off day and used “bad attitude” more than usual then.)

I’m not anything close to a perfect mom. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I, like most mothers I know, constantly struggle with feeling like I’ve failed, with wondering if I’m not doing enough.

Right now, though, Gracie is off my lap and the girls have just barely stopped dancing together to the music, and are playing with toys. Without me even there in the room with them, I can hear Joy saying, “Would you like this one, Gracie? May I have the strawberry? Thank you!”

That sort of interaction doesn’t come naturally. Sharing, asking, being kind - those come through training. And maybe my training isn’t the best it could be, and certainly the girls aren’t always so sweet with each other, but by God’s grace they are learning.

I’m not writing this as a defense of my parenting abilities. Well, maybe I am a little, but that’s not the main reason. The best comfort I got after reading that email was the numerous “mom blogs” I read that all mentioned something about just doing the best we can, about loving on our kids, about making mistakes and moving past them … etc.

So really, I am mainly writing this in hopes that perhaps some other wounded spirit might read this and take some comfort from it.

You are not perfect. I am not perfect. But we love our kids, and love, my friends, covers a multitude of sins, and an even greater number of mistakes.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go gently remind my three-year-old that poop goes in the potty, not her underwear. Again.

And then give her a kiss.

ETA: Here's a list of links to the most helpful posts I found these last few days ... hope they will give you a boost, too.

For No Reason Because sometimes, you are a rockstar, you really are.

Would You Believe ... Proof that training them when they are young really does have good results.

And They Walk With Me ... I read this before the Debacle Visit, but I reminded myself of it afterward. This is why I train, so we can have this sort of relationship in ten years.

Whatever you Do, Don't Lose Hope I'm not the only one who feels I'm spinning out of control sometimes!

Three Down Because no matter what else we mess up at, we will always do anything to keep our children safe and loved.

(There were more, I know ... but of course I can't find them now. Life!)

To Watch Her Grow

2011-01-24T10:44:00.002-05:00

We started out the same way we had done it two weeks ago - Joy secured between my knees, and both hands grasped tightly in mine. Then she started to look around. She saw the other kids skating, holding on with only one hand.

So she moved away from me, and skated holding on to one hand alone. I had to catch her free hand a few times, because she lost her balance quite a bit at first ...

But it didn't take long before she gained confidence and balance, and could go for quite a few strokes without holding on with two hands. She was actually-truly stroking, too - not just walking on her blades, but pushing with them like you're supposed to.

("She's so cute," gushed the teenage girls skating past us. Then, as they noticed her double-bladed skates - "I want skates like that!" Teenagers - especially girls - crack me up.)

We'd been on the ice for about fifteen minutes when I heard Joy trying to tell me something. I bent over, thinking she was going to say that she needed to go potty or wanted me to hold both her hands again.

"Mamma," she said, all serious eyes and earnest face. "I think I would like to skate all by myself now."

So she did.

All by herself, without holding on to the boards or my hands or anything. She had to grab me a couple times to keep from falling, and she went down and landed on her bottom once, but came back up giggling.

After a bit, she got tired, but she didn't want to get off. No, she wanted me to hold her between my knees again and go fast. So we sped around the ice, her giggles rising above the wind of our passing, and then she went on her own again, until we were done.

I am proud. And humbled, because I have neither the skill nor the courage to do what she did. And excited, because with her determination and mindset, she has so much potential to do anything, anything at all that she wants.

The skating is fun, is a real joy for me to be able to share this sport I love so dearly with my girl. But it's not just about the skating, or even the exercise. The real thrill, for me, comes from watching her grow and blossom, before my eyes, and seeing all the possibilities for her life roll out like a scroll.

Getting to parent this girl as she grows us? It's going to be a fun, fun ride. I am privileged to be her mamma.

Torvill and Dean, we are not.

Sunday Rest

2011-01-23T09:00:00.000-05:00

It is cold here today.

After a busy Friday and Saturday (including another trip to the ice rink, this time with pictures, which I'll try to include in a post on Monday), today seems a good day to cuddle down with blankets and books, to rest and be still, to snuggle in with toys and find a quiet nook all your own.

To drink tea, and delve into the Word, and talk with family on the phone.

To work on a quilt, to listen to classical music, to watch the skating show you taped yesterday.

In short, a good day to be restful and at peace.

I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday, my friends.

Thank You, and Skating

2011-01-20T13:09:00.003-05:00

Thank you all for your suggestions and tips on surviving. I did draw up a very basic, very loose schedule, and I'm incorporating many of your ideas, and I think we're going to get through. And as I said before, I know these days won't last forever - or even much longer, really - and on those days when I feel like my two leeches are going to drive me crazy, I just remind myself of that. Over and over again.

Anyway. To show my appreciation (I am nothing if not giving!), I make this public service announcement:

The US National Figure Skating Championships start tomorrow (novice and junior first - seniors start on Thursday). NBC starts showing free skates on the the 29th. For my Canadian readers, your Nationals start tomorrow, and I have no idea when and on what channel they'll be shown, but probably much sooner and in much greater detail than we get. (Um, yes, that was me pouting.)

I'm eager to see how the men's field shapes up - a lot of talent there. In dance, Davis and White are practically guaranteed the gold (and they deserve it! I still haven't watched the Free Dance portion of the Olympics from last year because I'm still so upset they didn't win gold), and I'm sad to say pairs don't interest me too much these days.

But the ladies - ah well, I am a big fan of both Rachael Flatt and Mirai Nagasu, but I am cheering unashamedly for Alissa Czisny. She is my current favorite skater, and has made my fairly short list of all-time favorites.

Want to know why? Here:

And here:

(Every time we watch her skate, I nudge Joy and whisper "If you do ever take up figure skating competitively, skate like her." And then she grins at me.)

(Oh, and Sunrise, just so you know, I haven't forgotten about the skating program you were asking about a few months ago. Unfortunately, I put all my skating tapes from those years onto DVD's recently, and even more unfortunately, my DVD player broke before I could finalize them, so they are unwatchable until I get the software I need for finalizing. Once I get that, I anticipate many happy hours quilting and perusing old routines to find the right one.)

The Impossible Dream

2011-01-19T10:40:00.002-05:00

I really need to start scheduling my days differently.

Maybe I just need to start scheduling my days, period.

I don't like strict schedules, which tend to make me dull-eyed and drab. But something needs to change.

What brought this about?

(I'm so glad you asked!)

I didn't eat breakfast today until 10:00. Again. Part of it was forgetfulness, part of it was just that I couldn't take the time with the girls needing me.

Grace wakes up early. She gets up with Carl (around 6) and cuddles with me in bed until he's done with his shower, at which point we get up and I get her juice and we get started. Joy wakes up anywhere between 6:30 and 7. And from them until their naps at 9:30, I'm on call. Since Joy doesn't sleep during naptime anymore, I'm actually technically still on call for her during naptime, to help her go potty or remind her that quiet play means playing quietly.

She gets up around 11. Depending on her teeth, and how quickly she fell asleep, Grace is up between 11:30 and 1.

And that's it. They are both in the wonderful and maddening stage of wanting to be attached to me All The Time. My dishes have a nasty tendency these days to pile up, because I can't even wash them while the girls are awake.

Carl gets home around 4, but he always, always has to do studying. That's part of the whole preparing-for-seminary deal, and there's no way around it. Besides, when Grace's teeth are really hurting, she doesn't even want Papa, it's only Mamma who will do (which makes fixing supper quite the challenge, let me tell you).

The littles are in bed by 7:30, and at that point I am so very tired that about all I manage to do is collapse in the chair or on the couch and either read a fluff book or wander aimlessly around the internet until I fall asleep around 9. The brain and the body, they can only take so much?

I spend too much time on this internet business, but it's the only thing I can do while the littles are awake, really. I can hold them on my lap and check Facebook and Twitter, remind myself of the world outside these four walls. I can't do my Renaissance research, I certainly can't study the Bible, I can't write ... I can't even really clean well because they are Always There. The only way I manage to get a shower most days is by resorting to putting in a video for them to watch while I'm in the bathroom - and even then, Gracie usually starts crying after ten minutes.

I am not (despite being a female) a multi-tasker. One thing at a time is the way I've always had to work. Can't do fifty - or even five - things at once without me going crazy and nothing getting done properly. I just can't do it.

I'm not whining. Really. I know this is just a normal part of life. I know, because it happened with Joy, that eventually Grace will get all her teeth and not need me so much. I know, because I'm seeing it already, that Joy will become more and more independent and not insist on being glued to my side every moment of the day. So I'm not complaining about these days.

But I do need to be able to, you know, get clean and eat food once in a while. And maybe have enough energy left at the end of the day to carry on a conversation with my husband. I also need - spiritually if not physically - to be able to study the Bible regularly.

And I think, if those things happened, I would be able to focus more on the girls during our day, to actually play with them and interact with them, instead of just being a policeman making sure they don't kill themselves or each other.

I'm just not sure how to make it happen.

More experienced mothers out there? Any advice? Survival tips for those years before your children turn five?

Or should I just give up on the idea of having anything in my life except children right now? I hate to do that, but if that's my only option, I would rather know it and deal with it than keep struggling to find balance.

I just know that this constant battle to take care of my needs, my husband's needs, my home's needs, and my children's needs, is wearing me to a shoestring, and something Must Be Done!

Seeking Balance

2011-01-17T07:50:00.002-05:00

My parents always taught my sister and me that it was best to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was a hard lesson, and still is. It goes against the grain to believe the best motives of people, when you know that they might really be intending ill. It’s natural to want to be protecting ourselves, to believe the worst so we won’t be taken in.

And yet, how many times do we assign ill-intent where none is meant? And what good does it do us, as Mom and Dad always reminded Lis and me, to think the worst, even if it’s true? Say somebody does say something unkind with intent to hurt. Which is going to better serve their purposes, for us to recognize that and be hurt, or for us to assume they didn’t really mean it, and turn it aside with a smile and laugh?

Obviously, their sails are going to be rather more deflated by us taking the high road.

I’ve been thinking about this in life lately, thinking of how easy it is to assume that we got the lousy deal out of life, that our life stinks compared to other people’s.

My parents have had what many people would call a hard life. Family, work, church, friends … tragedies and/or difficulties in every corner.

And yet, I never thought of our life as hard as a kid. It’s only been since being an adult, looking back, that I’ve been able to realize how difficult it must have been. Mom and Dad, they just took whatever came, occasionally ranted and fumed over it, and moved on. They handled - handle - trouble with grace and humor, not with bitterness and anger.

Sure, they aren’t perfect. Mom is very open about her struggles with depression when Lis and I were really little. She and Dad had to work to bring themselves to a place where they could say, Life is never going to be as great as we would like it; we need to find our contentment in God, rather than our circumstances.

They worked to give life the benefit of the doubt, as well as people. And I want to do the same. I am tired of grousing over my circumstances. I am ready to take the high road.

I would rather "dupe" myself into believing my life is and has been okay - even good! - than get trapped in a mindset of bitterness, depression, and/or self-pity. I would rather look at this life God has given me as a crazy, wondrous adventure than a scary, hurtful prison sentence.

I could choose to dwell on the bad things in my past and present. Too often I do. Sometimes I let myself think I have an extraordinarily difficult and miserable life, that nobody else in the whole world has it as bad as I do or did. Sometimes I tot up all the things that could be considered tragedies in my life.

But honestly, who benefits by that? Does that make my life any easier, thinking about how rotten it all is or was or could have been? Does it make me happier? Does it make me more pleasant to be around?

Sometimes things get so bad they overwhelm you. I get that. And I’m not saying everyone should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps, put on a happy face, grin and bear it, blah blah blah. I don’t know your life, or what has happened to you, or anything about that. Many people have suffered real tragedies, events that make my small troubles look - well - small. I am not speaking to how anyone else should live, just trying to detail some conclusions I have reached for my own life, my own mindset. All I know is me.

I know how God has dealt with me. And I know how he could have dealt with me.

And when I think about his grace, suddenly, all those life circumstances don’t really seem so bad after all.

I can choose to interpret them poorly. Or I can look at them with humor and common sense and the knowledge that everything is going toward molding me more in my Lord’s image, to making me more like him.

I don’t have to be Pollyanna. But I needn’t be Eeyore, either.

I can just be human. Delightfully, gloriously, flawed-but-getting-better, humanly, Louise. Taking life as it comes, seeking the good and accepting the bad, and looking for God’s face through it all.

Double Post From My Writing Blog

2011-01-16T10:06:00.001-05:00

I am double-posting here something I just put up on my writing blog, because I want as many people to see it as possible, and I know more people read this than read the other:

I have just discovered that a blog calling itself movie-ozone has linked me as one of its blogging partners. I am in NO WAY connected to this blog. I have reported them as spam, and if no action is taken against them, I will have to consider shutting this blog down and starting one with a different server. I like blogspot, but I do not like not being able to protect myself against people falsely claiming a connection with me (admittedly, I could go private, but I prefer to keep my blogs public - if I go private, I might as well not bother blogging at all).

Anyone who is visiting this blog from movie-ozone, I am very sorry you were misled. Again, I had never even heard of this blog until today, when I discovered they claimed I was connected with them. I am not, and their thoughts and opinions are in no way representative of mine.

Blogspot, please take action against this blog! With a quick Google search, I found that I am not the only one to have this problem - I think every blog they've linked on their site has been linked without permission!

Mountains and Valleys

2011-01-14T07:25:00.000-05:00

I go to the woods to breathe.

I don't know where I first heard that quote, or who said it originally, but I've always liked it.

Except, I don't go to the woods to breathe. I go to the woods for solemn stillness, for reverent wonder. When I need to breathe I go to the mountains.

People who live out west might snort at the Adirondacks. Certainly they are not as impressive as some. But oh, I do love them. They are home to me. And is anything in all the world more beautiful than a mountain with a lake at its base? In winter, rimmed with ice; in spring and summer, lined with green; in fall, covered with the flaming glories of year's end?

I love all mountains. I feel freer there than anywhere else. The sea reminds me of how small I am; the woods alike, but the mountains make me stretch out my arms to the sky, reaching for the heavens.

I go to the mountains to breathe. And when I come back to the valleys, I carry some of the mountains with me.

This post is part of a new idea called Five-Minute Fridays at The Gypsy Mama's blog. Definitely fun!

Winter's Day

2011-01-13T10:36:00.001-05:00

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. -Robert Frost

This Is Me

2011-01-11T09:59:00.000-05:00

Last night after the girls were in bed, I sat down to study Genesis 1 (because we're starting a Bible Study on Genesis TONIGHT, and I don't like to leave things to the last minute at all).

I realized that I have no more small notebooks. How can I be expected to study something without a notebook? For my personal studies, I can keep notes on the computer, but I'm not bringing my laptop to a Bible Study at someone else's house (for one thing, I'd be too tempted to check Facebook and Twitter if the discussion got at all boring).

I don't like bringing big notebooks to Bible Studies either. Too bulky and awkward. So I figured I could just fold some lined paper in half and stitch it together.

Or was there something online that would look nicer?

An hour later, I had this:

I won't try to take a better picture, because then you'd see that the pages are uneven, the stitching atrocious (the holes took forever, several implements, and much frustration), and it is altogether not worthy of such a long time spent on it.

Oh well. It was done. I happily, if a bit sheepishly, opened Genesis, and in moments my new little notebook was getting filled with writing.

It's never simple, being me (or being married to me, Carl might add). But at least it's all good blog fodder.

Sprouting Wings

2011-01-10T10:59:00.001-05:00

Ever since her first attempt at ice skating, Joy has been talking about going again. Considering that she insisted on being carried around the ice that time, and cried every time I tried to set her down, I was skeptical of how much she really wanted to try again, and how much was connected to the beautiful figures she watches on tv with me.

But she kept talking, and kept talking, so last week I promised her we would try to go on Saturday - as long as she promised me she would try to skate by herself. I would hold her hands, and carry her some if she needed, but she had to at least try to skate on her own.

She promised. And talked about going skating every single day last week. Every. Single. Day.

So, on Saturday, we first took the girls sledding, and then quick dropped off our snow clothes here at the house before heading to the rink. Joy was quivering with excitement as we went in and got our skates on. She danced beside me all the way to the ice.

And then, the instant our feet touched that gleaming surface, she clung to me and demanded I carry her. I picked her up and skated slowly, reminding her that she promised Mamma she would try. I would carry her some, I said again, but she had to at least try.

We stopped at the other end of the ice. I set her down and sandwiched her firmly between my legs while holding her hands. We'll stand here until you feel comfortable, I said.

We waited. Once I felt her body start to relax, I moved my feet back and forth, gliding in place. Startled at first, Joy quickly decided that was okay. Then I began to glide forward slowly, ever so slowly. She went along. We did a round of the ice like that, and she started to smile.

(My arms and shoulders were starting to scream already, but it was worth it!)

Then I suggested she step with her feet, demonstrating how to do it. Before long, she was prancing along on the ice, occasionally just resting her feet and letting me drag her, but most often stepping, sometimes even trying to push like Mamma was doing. She got her skates tangled in mine once or twice, but that was all right, I just reminded her that she needed to keep her feet under her body, not mine, or we'd both go down.

We had to take a break to go potty, and she practically ran back to the ice afterward, and hopped on without even waiting for me, bracing herself against the boards while I got on, taking my hands with confidence once I was behind her again.

I'm so proud of you, I told her over and over. So very proud. Prouder than if she'd just won an Olympic medal.

It wasn't just about the skating. It was my naturally cautious, hesitant girl, stepping outside her comfort zone, overcoming her timidity and fears to do something that she really wanted to do, something she ended up loving. It was watching her take a huge step toward maturity, right before my eyes.

"We go skating tomorrow?" she asked me Saturday night as I kissed her good-night.

Not tomorrow, but soon, sweet girl. We'll go skating again soon, and before long, you'll have wings on your feet to fly around that ice.

Fly on, brave dreamer.

Friday Flickerings

2011-01-07T15:11:00.000-05:00

I just sent the girls upstairs for a second quiet time today. First quiet time (an actual nap for Gracie) comes mid-morning, and that's usually it for the day. Both today and yesterday, though, around 2:30 or 3 I've found myself ushering them back into their beds for another time of books and quiet play.

Mercy, we've only made it through the first week of January, and already we're all going stir-crazy.

Or maybe it's just reaction against the busyness of the holidays. Even though we've done nothing this week, I wake up every morning so weary I can barely lift my head off the pillow. Last night I went to bed at 8:30, and I still woke up this morning feeling like I could use another few hours of sleep. I'm guessing, from the willingness with which the girls are going for their quiet time, and the way Joy starts asking if it's bedtime as soon as supper is over, that they are feeling just as wiped out.

It was a great Christmas with my family, and a very nice New Year's with Carl's mom, but after this holiday season I am looking forward even more to the time when we Do Not Travel over the holidays, and people come to us!

I've been too tired to even keep up with my research these days, which is disappointing, because I really, really want to get started on my newest story project (working title Starsong) and I can't until I get at least the basics of this research out of the way. I also need to rework my query letter for The Eldest Sister just a bit (got another rejection from another agent this week) to make it the best I can, and I haven't had the energy for that, either.

However. It's Friday. Carl's coming home in an hour, and then we'll have a nice relaxing weekend. I promised Joy we'd try to go skating tomorrow, and she's promised me she'll actually try to skate this time, instead of insisting on being carried the whole time. Both of the girls are happy upstairs right now (Gracie is reading in her crib with only the occasional peep, and Joy is singing in bed to her animals), and as soon as I am done with this I am going to make myself a mug of hot chocolate and read another chapter or two in Tamora Pierce's Bloodhound. I borrowed the Beka Cooper books from the library this week, and I'm thoroughly enjoying them. Out of all Pierce's books that I've read, I like the Trickster duology the best, but the Beka Cooper books are coming in a close second. I love finding new books that I enjoy!

It's snowing out, and everything is pretty and white. We're having leftovers for supper, so all I have to do for that is grate some cheese to sprinkle on top.

Not such a bad afternoon, even if I am tired.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, whether it be snowy or not!

One Word: Peace

2011-01-04T10:26:00.003-05:00

I've read a great deal about people choosing one word for a year-long focus each January. I've never even remotely considered joining in, because, well, my hatred of the cliche or trendy could almost be characterized as cliche itself.

But enough about my peculiarities. I have seen this "one word" idea this past month from enough people who aren't cliche or trendy to start mulling it over. Then I got to the point where I said "Well, if I were to do this (but I'm not), ____ would be my word."

Which led to thinking about that word, and looking up Bible verses on it, and thinking what good verses they would be to memorize ...

Guess what? I'm doing One Word for 2011!

My word? As I have looked over all the stress and fretting and worrying I (I, who believe so firmly in God's sovereignty!) have done in the last few years, at how far I have come from my pre-marriage serenity (not Carl's fault, I hasten to add - just from starting a new life), at how far I am from the kind of Christianity I seek, I chose:

Peace.

(As soon as I mentioned this to Carl, he suggested a list of other "P" words, including perspicuous and pulchritudinous. I asked him if pompous was going to be his word for the year!)

I wrote down a list of verses that mention "peace" that I want to memorize this year, as a help to achieving a peaceful mindset and quiet heart. Here are a few of my favorites off the list:

“Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” Psalm 34:14 I love the idea of pursuing peace - not just being passive, which is something a lot of people associate with peace, but actively setting out after it.

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3 Trusting in God and keeping one's mind stayed on him produces perfect peace. Beautiful!

“And the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.” Isaiah 32:17 So, so lovely. This just might become one of my new favorite verses out of all Scripture. The effect of righteousness is peace, and the result of righteousness is quietness and trust.

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” Romans 14:17 To me, this verse says: Let's not get all caught up in the minutiae of squabbling over little details. Small differences in doctrine is not what God's kingdom is about! It is about righteous living, and dwelling in the Holy Spirit with peace and joy, in God and in each other.

“Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.” Hebrews 12:14 And this verse says to me, Yes, we will live peaceably with each other, and instead of judging our brothers and sisters, we will strive for personal holiness in our own lives, so that we may please God. We will not turn a blind eye to sin in the name of peace, but we will not seek to wound our fellow Christians, either.

“But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” James 3:17-18 - "And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace." Notice how righteousness and peace are connected in so many of these passages? Something to ponder ...

So. Peace is the concept I'm pursuing this year. Peace in my own heart (which comes of a deeper trust in and love for God), peace with others, and peace with where God has placed me right now.

At this moment, the house is tidy (except for the dishes from last night's dinner with friends piled on the kitchen counter, but I'm pretending they don't exist right now), Grace is sleeping, Joy is reading and singing in bed, and I am getting ready to (finally!) study Psalm 19, one of my very favorite Psalms, and something I've been anticipating since starting my study of the Psalms at all.

There is quietness. There is peace. This is what I want to capture, even when my outside life is chaotic. This feeling, in my heart and mind, no matter what.

This is my goal for 2011.

Do you do One Word? Do you make resolutions each year, or set new goals? If there was one word or one concept you would want your life to exemplify in the coming year, what would it be?

Summing Up

2010-12-31T11:52:00.000-05:00

For this final post of 2010, I thought about linking to my goal list from last January, and crossing off each goal accomplished. Then I got looking at it, and realized how very, very few of those goals were in fact accomplished, and decided to do something else.

Here, for your reading pleasure this weekend, are my favorite posts from each month of last year. Some are deep, some are contemplative, some are just fun. I guess there's something there for everyone!

Happy New Year, my friends. I hope 2011 is a blessed twelve months for all of us.

January: Riches

February: Stitched Together

March: Kitchen Heart

April: Subverting a Wedding

May: Tulips and Ducklings

June: Turning of the Wheel

July: Just a Mom

August: Up

September: Journey Toward Grace

October: Riverdance on Ice

November: Theology and Love

December: Plea for Kindness

First Memory

2010-12-29T18:53:00.000-05:00

My very earliest memory is from when I was very small. I was in a strange crib, and the sheets had duckies and chickies on them. It was very dark, and very cold, and a bright light was shining from the hallway, so I could just see shadows as they passed the doorway. Then one shadow stopped, and I heard a strange man's voice, and I was scared and started to cry, and then my mother was right there beside me. And it was all right.

When I asked my parents, at one point in my childhood, where my sheets were with the duckies and chickies, they told me we never had crib sheets like those. After talking it over, we realized that I was remembering from when I was in the hospital with pneumonia, when I was two. (I don't remember if I ever told them I was scared of the doctor. Probably not.)

I fretted for a little while over what my children's first memories were going to be. I remember reading in one of the "Anne" books about how Diana was determined to have her child's first memory of her be sweet. Well, that sounded good to me, but how could I ensure that for my child? How could I be certain they wouldn't, by some trick of the mind, remember a well-deserved discipline instead, or even something completely different, like being in the hospital with pneumonia? I can't really control what my child's earliest memory will be.

But even though my first memory is somewhat bland, my overall emotion when I think back to my entire childhood is contentment. Not fear, not worry, not stress, but happiness, love, and peace.

In the end, it isn't, I think, so much about what your first memory is, as it is about what story your memories overall tell. And I hope for my children, as it was for me, that story is one of love and happiness.

No matter what their very first memory might be.

(This is part of the Madhouse carnival. Check out what others have to say about first memories!)

Joy and Comfort

2010-12-26T10:08:00.000-05:00

Happy Boxing Day, everyone.

I don't have my camera cord here at Mom and Dad's with me, so no Christmas pictures yet, but rest assured we had a lovely day. There were lots and lots of tears: good ones, as when Mom gave Dad the small milk bottle from his grandparents' old dairy - something he has been searching for for years, and has never been able to find; or when Mom opened the beautiful sweater and necklace Lis helped Dad find for her, after they had decided they weren't going to buy any presents for each other this year because they had bought a house. There were also some sad tears, when we all went to visit Grandpa in the nursing home (first time since I can remember that he hasn't been able to come to our house for Christmas morning), and when we all went to see Grandma. I'm not quite sure there's anything harder than seeing your Dad cry, unless it's seeing your Dad and your uncle cry.

Then there were the tears of laughter, of enjoying being with each other so much, of Uncle Andy's bad jokes that had Carl wheezing for air and wiping his streaming eyes.

There was the phone call from the Australian uncle, who is planning a trip home in the spring, talking to him for the first time in twelve years. There was Gracie spending the entire day attached to her new stuffed kitty. There was Joy finally warming up (again) to Uncle David and playing tea party with him. There was our "third sister" teasing Carl unmercifully about the card game they were losing against Lis and Andy.

There was Mom's split pea soup and famous meatballs (along with way more food than I could even get to!). There was the wrong present that Williams-Sonoma had shipped from Lis to David. There was the present that Mom dropped nearly on Dad's foot ("It JUMPED!") and thankfully didn't break. There was wine and coffee and people enjoying the cookies I spent so much time making.

There was family and love and light.

It was a good Christmas.

Ho, Ho, Ho

2010-12-24T09:46:00.000-05:00

I hope all my readers who celebrate Christmas have a wonderful, joy-filled weekend. And to those who don't celebrate this particular holiday, I hope this winter weekend (and whatever days you do celebrate) is wondrous as well. We are home with my family, all together and ready for fun.

Good food, good wine, family and laugher ... the presents are just an extra bonus!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my friends.

Grace

2010-12-22T07:49:00.002-05:00

This week's Madhouse entry is remarkably appropriate for me, given the title of my blog! And as I don't think I've ever given the backstory to my title, well, here you go.

I am not, by nature, a graceful person. I think one reason I love figure skating so much is that I long for that kind of effortless grace in movement, that simple elegance.

(I want to be Alissa Czisny when I grow up.)

Alas, the most my years of skating lessons did was teach me how to walk with a straight back - which is something, I suppose, given the number of people I see slumping around the place. I will never be Audrey Hepburn, or Grace Kelly, or Katia Gordeeva.

"Graceful" is not the first word that comes to people's minds when describing me.

I may not be able to achieve gracefulness in this lifetime (my husband will tell you that he never believed it possible for a person to be as naturally clumsy as I am), but graciousness ... well, that's another matter.

You see, by nature, I am not a gracious person, either. But that is something I can strive for in this life. Unspeakable grace has been poured out on me, the least I can do is show it in my own life.

I chose "Child of Grace" for my blog title, however many years ago, because I do want grace - not the physical kind - to be the first thing that comes to people's mind when they think of me. I want to live a life marked by grace. I am very much my parents' child - in appearance, I take after my mother; in personality, my father. "Oh yeah," people back home tell me all the time, "You're your father's daughter," or "You're so much like your mother!"

I want my writing, and my life, to be so characterized by grace that people have no question whose child I am - that they know without a doubt I belong to the King of Grace.

I'm not there yet. But it's a goal.

And, I think, a worthy one.

Monday Musings

2010-12-20T09:06:00.000-05:00

It's Monday morning, and my mind is a big, blank canvas. That might sound like the perfect recipe for creativity, but no, it's really blank. I couldn't even come up with a semi-interesting status update for Facebook!

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Carl and I saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader on Saturday. I enjoyed it - especially Eustace, and I hope they do make Silver Chair, because he deserves his own movie and I think everyone who has seen Dawn Treader loved him and would go see him in another movie - but it was not up to the level of The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. Better than Prince Caspian, but not as good as the first. And most of the changes that they made to the book, to make it a more cohesive movie, just came out looking (to me) silly.

I did like Caspian's quiet heroism, and I thought Simon Pegg did a better job as Reepicheep (I totally choked up when he said he would give up his sword for the chance to go to Aslan's Country, because ... just wow), and the ship itself looked perfect. The movie overall felt very rushed to me, though, and I'm afraid that this is going to be it for the Narnia films this time around, because the quality keeps getting poorer and poorer, and the numbers keep dropping accordingly. WHEN will Hollywood learn that you don't have to make all sorts of changes to supposedly "improve" a story, when the original story is beautiful in itself? How do you suppose the Chronicles have remained beloved for so long, without an editor to update them and make them more modern?

Because the heart of the stories is timeless - honor, courage, sacrifice, love. Those themes never grow old.

Maybe in another ten-twenty years, someone else will tackle the Chronicles, deal faithfully with them, and manage to make all seven.

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Also on Saturday, I gave away my childhood copy of Betsy-Tacy and Tib. I have a lovely hardcover copy now, and it seems selfish to hold onto the paperback version as well. So I gave it away to our pastor's eight-year-old daughter, and told her that I loved, and still love, the Betsy-Tacy books. She has never read them, so I'm so excited to think that maybe I'm introducing someone else to a lifelong friendship with the Deep Valley gang. She's a voracious reader and a sweetheart, so I have no fear that she will unthinkingly dismiss Betsy just because she's old-fashioned. Again, they may be old-fashioned, but the themes of friendship and family are timeless!

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Christmas is in five days. We leave for my parents' on Thursday. I kinda wish it were Thursday already. I am ready to be celebrating with the family! I have plenty of baking planned to fill the intervening days, though - molasses cookies, peanut-butter blossoms, toffee chip cookies, cardamom bread. I'm cleaning my oven this morning in preparation for all the baking!

Running out of thoughts. Oh! Can you believe that I have no holiday clothes? I do have a pair of black velvet pants, but I own nothing in red or green, nothing to go with the pants to make it festive. Not even a red sweater. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with me, especially when I love red. Like Sara Stanley, I always feel cleverer in red than any other color.

I feel sophisticated in white or black, sexy in purple, chic in green, comfortable in blue or brown, and juvenile in yellow. Which probably explains why I have so much blue and brown in my wardrobe.

We're doing better with Joy these days. She still has her days of pushing the boundaries, testing her independence, striving to assert her will over ours, but it's settled into a more manageable rhythm now. I think three is going to be her "testing" year, as opposed to two for so many kids! All I've heard from other parents who found three a more difficult year than two, though, is that as long as you are consistent, it gets better by four. I'm clinging to that on those more-than-usually-difficult days!

Happy Monday, my friends!

Pumpkin Scones and Togetherness

2010-12-17T09:09:00.000-05:00

There's not a whole lot of my creative hobbies I can do with the girls right now. If I try to sew with them around, I worry about pins and scissors and Gracie running off with my pattern pieces. Knitting, well, let's just say they are both like cats when it comes to yarn. Scrapbooking - forget it! Glue, stickers, photos, little pieces of colored paper ... they just can't help but make a mess.

But baking? That we can do together. And so, yesterday, when I felt at my wits end with Joy (O the defiance of a three-year-old whose world is stretching!) and when Gracie would not stop fussing, I pulled out the flour and sugar and aprons, and we set to work.

Gracie, who is my mischief-maker and always into everything, was happy in the high chair with some (tightly closed) spice bottles and my extra set of measuring cups and spoons. Joy got right up to the counter and helped me stir and mix everything together. We ended with a delicious double batch of pumpkin scones, and everyone feeling better. As an extra bonus, I was actually able to eat breakfast food this morning, instead of resorting to hummus and pita chips, as I had to do yesterday when I suddenly realized there was no food for me to eat for breakfast!

I think we'll bake cookies today. Tomorrow I'll make sure to stock up on baking supplies (I'm out of nutmeg and running dangerously low on eggs), and then we can bake every day from Monday to Wednesday, if we want!

I hope Oma and Grandpa, and Uncle David and Aunt Lizzie, are in the mood for baked goods, because I suspect we will arrive on Thursday loaded down with them!

Pumpkin Scones:

1 1/2 C all-purpose flour

1/2 C whole wheat flour

1/4 C packed brown sugar

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp cloves

1/4 tsp allspice

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/2 C cold butter

1 egg

3/4 C pumpkin puree (NOT pumpkin pie filling!)

1/3 C milk

Mix dry ingredient together in a large bowl. Cut in butter. In a separate bowl, mix egg, pumpkin puree, and milk. Add wet ingredients to the flour mixture. Stir just until moistened. Knead ten times. Pat into circle and cut into wedge-shaped scones, place on floured baking sheet. OR scoop out scones with ice-cream scoop and drop onto floured baking sheet. Bake at 400F for 15 minutes or until golden brown. Best served warm with butter!

(You can also add chocolate chips to the scones, but Carl's not a big chocolate fan, so we tend to leave chocolate out of any recipes we want him to enjoy. Plus, without the chocolate chips you can enjoy it for breakfast without guilt!)

Pondering

2010-12-15T07:56:00.001-05:00

I almost decided to give up this blog yesterday. I have started a blog specifically devoted to writing (see sidebar), and I had serious thoughts of just focusing on that from now on.

Part of that was discouragement that my more in-depth, spiritually-minded posts rarely (if ever) get comments, while the frivolous ones (like when I talk about my new hairstyle) get plenty. I don't really want to be a fluff blogger, you see.

Part of it was fear that, as my life has been fairly discouraging of late, I would slide back into writing mainly posts about how discouraged I am, and that's not really what I want my niche to be, either. ("Hey, come visit Child of Grace - she whines all the time!")

Part of it was wondering if this blog really does any good to anyone anyway - do people come away from reading my posts encouraged, edified, challenged? Or is it just something to peruse whilst sipping one's morning coffee, only to be forgotten as soon as one's day really begins?

Part of it is wondering if blogging takes me too much away from my children - if their attitude problems of late are because I'm not spending enough time interacting with them. Even as I type this, I am at the dining room table amidst the remnants of our breakfast, while they are upstairs in the playroom. I can hear them, and have no problem stopping this to go to them if they need me - but I'm not up there playing with them.

As you can see, the blog is still here, and I'm still writing posts. But they might be more sporadic for a while, as I try to figure out whether this blog is an unnecessary self-indulgence, or if it really does serve a good purpose. I think it's going to require a lot of prayer, and a bit of perspective, both of which simply take time.

So I thank you in advance for your patience, and for bearing with me. And hey, if you're really desperate to see more posts by me, I do have a few up on the writing blog!

A Plea for Kindness

2010-12-13T09:27:00.000-05:00

I am tired.

Not just physically, although the restless night I had last night, combined with someone waking up at 5:00 am and deciding today would be a good day for some more battles of the will, are certainly making me more than happy to see my coffee cup today.

But mostly, I am tired of smug superiority. I am tired of mockery. I am tired of cruelty disguised as humor.

I am really tired of seeing all this practiced by those who call themselves Christians, aimed at other Christians.

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13: 34-35)

"Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes." (1 John 2: 9-11)

"And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross." (Colossians 1: 17-20)

My friends, if we share in the cross of Christ, if we are reconciled to God through his blood, why can't we be reconciled to each other? I understand that we will have our differences. I know that there are those who abuse the name of Christ for their own twisted ends, and I stand with you in condemning them. But really, must we paint everyone with whom we disagree with the same brush? Why are we so quick to point the finger of mockery and indictment at those whose doctrine differs?

Liberals use vicious humor to discredit the fundamentalists. Fundamentalists denounce liberals as heretics.

And the world scorns us all because of our strife.

Again, I am not saying that we all have to agree. But please, can't we be respectful in our disagreements? Maybe we should all take a step or two back and ask ourselves what our motive is behind this attitude: are we speaking thus because we truly believe this is the best way to handle such disagreement, or are we taking cheap shots at our opponents because it's easy and makes us feel superior? Are we practicing humility and love, or indulging in arrogance and pride?

As with so many areas, it comes down to this:

Where are our hearts?

Many of you know that Dr. Roger Nicole died this weekend. He was a man who, though he knew more than even most scholars, practiced humility and graciousness, even against those he debated. May we all strive to emulate men such as that in our dealings with each other.

Maybe then the world can see the church as it is meant to be, and start seeing Christ in us, instead of our own sinful hearts.

Funny How These Things Happen

2010-12-11T17:08:00.000-05:00

So, I've been craving caramel sauce lately. I have a partially-eaten container of vanilla frozen yogurt in the freezer just needing something to make it special, plus I always love adding a dollop of caramel sauce to hot chocolate.

So today I decided to take advantage of Carl playing with the girls to try a batch. The last batch I made got burnt just a little, but even a little burnt can make caramel fairly inedible in my opinion, so I was super-careful this time.

The first batch never caramelized, just crystallized. Still not sure what went wrong there.

I was so afraid of the same thing happening to the second batch that I added the butter too soon, before the sugar had truly caramelized, and so I ended up with butter-sugar sauce.

Frustrated, I was debating whether to try a third batch or just call it a day and go back to my research on the Classic Maya. Then I decided to taste a little bit of the butter-sugar sauce, and thought: Hm, that's not bad. Not something I'd put in my hot cocoa, or over my frozen yogurt, but I bet I could use it for something. It almost tastes like it would be good for ...

Caramel popcorn. That's another treat I've been craving lately, and it seems nearly impossible to find recipes for it that don't involve corn syrup, which I don't keep on hand and prefer not to use at all if possible.

Well, the sauce wasn't doing anybody any good just sitting there, and if I was wrong, I'd only be out an extra 1/2 cup of popcorn. Why not try it? I popped up a batch of popcorn on the stove, saved out a few pieces for the girls (who inherited my love for the snack), and poured half the butter-sugar sauce, which had thickened up nicely while sitting on the counter, over the rest. I mixed it up, spread it on a baking sheet, and popped it in the oven.

After about fifteen minutes, I tried a piece.

O yum.

Just about the best caramel popcorn I've ever had. The lighter flavor of the butter-sugar (which I'm now calling light caramel) sauce worked perfectly with the popcorn instead of overwhelming my mouth with CARAMEL! I might have baked it a wee bit too long, but nothing got burned, it's just a little crispier than I like it usually.

But still, it's incredibly addictive, and it's taking all my will-power to not eat it all NOW instead of waiting until we've had our healthy supper of beans and rice and the girls are in bed.

Nice to see that sometimes even a mistake in cooking can turn out so delicious!

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Caramel Popcorn:

Pop 1 C popcorn in air popper or on the stove. Discard any un-popped pieces. Set aside in a large bowl.

Light Caramel Sauce:

1 C sugar

1/4 C water

6 TBS butter

1/2 C heavy cream

Whisk water and sugar together. As soon as it is combined, STOP stirring. Let come to a boil, swirling pot occasionally. After 5-7 minutes, once sugar is golden but NOT yet caramel in color, add butter and stir.

Remove from heat. Add cream and stir. Your sauce should be a rich golden color - NOT caramel.

Let cool slightly, then pour over popcorn and mix well.

Spread popcorn on foil-lined and greased baking sheet. Bake at 300F for 10-15 minutes. Serve and enjoy!

Store popcorn in an airtight plastic container.

Christmas Time is Coming

2010-12-10T08:43:00.002-05:00

I am so, so thankful for my beautiful, wonderful, amazing family.

For little Gracie with her mischievous eyes and sweet smile.

For my firstborn Joy, so bright and tender-hearted.

For Carl, my husband and best friend.

Thank you, Lord, for these marvelous blessings, and a special time of year which always causes me to pause and think about them. To me, this is the true meaning of Christmas, and always has been.

Family.

And love.