a fierce love

photo © 2009 Leland Francisco (via: Wylio)
Yesterday was a hard day.  A day when I wondered what made me ever think I could be a good mom.  A day when I wondered why I ever thought living a ministry calling was a good idea.  A day when the best response I could give to "Will good triumph?" is "I hope so."  Dear God, I hope so.

Yesterday I got a lot of I-don't-love-you-anymore's and I-want-to-be-adopted's.  I tried to respond in calm and with love, but frankly, I don't know what to say to that.  I don't know what's best, anyway.  I don't know how to best parent this stubborn, intense, passionate girl who says out loud everything that comes into her head.  I don't know how to encourage both independence and compassion.  I just don't know.  What I do know is that I love her with a fierce love that brings me to my knees is dismay and fear and hope for her (and for me).

Yesterday I talked to a friend who has been hurt dreadfully by church (disclaimer: this friend is not local; I am not referring to my church).  This friend and her husband are both so kind and generous and wise and have given so much of their lives to ministry.  But now the church they have loved is tearing them down.  This isn't a new story, or even an unusual story.  Most of us who have been in the church for any amount of time have our own stories of hurt and betrayal.  Hurt and betrayal from the "body of Christ."  Hurt and betrayal from the community that is supposed to be our hope and refuge and rock to stand on.  Why is this so common?  Why?  Sure, I can give some theologically sound (in my mind, anyway) answers to this question, but ultimately, I don't know.  I just don't know.  What I do know is that I love these friends (and the Church) with a fierce love that brings me to my knees in dismay and fear and hope for them (and the Church).

Sometimes I can only fall on my knees. 

Rachel Held Evans recently wrote a blog post titled "Moms Scare Me," and one of the comments she got was from Jamie, The Very Worst Missionary (also an excellent blogger), who said "The best advice I ever received (and now the only advice I give) is this: 'You are going to make mistakes, and your children will love you anyway...Probably.'" 

Sometimes my biggest hope is in "probably."  Hope for my parenting.  Hope for my friends and family.  Hope for my community.  Hope for my church.  Probably. 

Usually that's enough.  And when it's not, I try to trust in that Fierce Love that envelops us and whispers to us, "Rise up."  "Rise up with Me; You are Loved; You are All Loved."

spiritual practice

I am not very disciplined (despite the J in my Myers-Briggs type).  I don't make to-do lists that I check off.  I don't abide by daily schedules very well.  I procrastinate. 

I am not extremely un-disciplined, either.  I am usually on time.  I get things done.  I don't often forget completely!  But I strive for more discipline in my life.  Without that striving, my fall-back position often lands me in a chair (or bed) with a book, most likely a mystery novel.  Not a bad position, of course, but not always the best position for fulfilling purpose.  Thus, many of my New Years Hopes involve being more orderly, establishing better routines and habits. 

One of my primary hopes for this year is that I will establish some better spiritual practices.  So far, I have dragged myself out of bed about 4 mornings a week to do a little yoga and prayer book time (which also includes scripture-reading).  I pick up the prayer book at other times of the day as well, but I am not disciplined about that.  I hope to gradually increase that practice.  Ultimately, I'd like to have a regular morning, midday and evening prayer time, but right now my focus is on morning prayer.  Baby steps. 

As a family, we have added a candle-lighting time to our meals together.  One of us lights a white Christ-candle and says, "Jesus is the light of the world," and the rest of us respond, "The light which no darkness shall overcome."  Then we sing our blessing prayer - the "God Our Father" blessing song, which we have taught our kids to sing, "God our Father, God our Mother...."  This is intentional, of course, because we want to emphasize that God is both father and mother to us and may be addressed as either, but it does make for some mildly awkward moments when we're with other friends or family.  I had not considered that when we started the blessing song.  Oh well, another way we're the rebel family!  But I digress....

One practice I'm just beginning to try is "praying in color."  Apparently, this idea has been around a while, but I'd never heard of it before reading about it at The Blue Room Blog.  And I love it!  Prayer - the kind of prayer that relies on me finding words - has always been a struggle.  Which is partly why I like using a prayer book.  But I love that praying in color helps me to pray for specific people/needs/praises in a way that doesn't require finding words.  It does require some time, but it's time that is active, moving, engaging.

One last practice that I'm just beginning is a one-sentence journal for each child.  I tried to start a hand-written journal for each of them last year, but once I started the blog, most of my writing went here.  And I have a very hard time making myself write with pen or pencil!  But writing just one sentence a day (idea also taken from Blue Room Blog) - that seems more doable.  It's a way to capture a bit of our lives together in a more personal way than the blog.  Though not a spiritual practice exactly, this helps me to reflect and be an intentional parent.  And I hope it will some day be a nice gift for them. 

Do you have any suggestions for incorporating spiritual practices into daily routines?  Any ideas for better including children in this?  What has been meaningful for you? 

facebook round-up

In reverse chrological order:

• Argh, Bruno Mars! You with your creepy, stalker-y song that's so dang catchy, I can't get it out of my head.
• I want to learn to knit. Because I don't have enough projects to do?! I think I might be crazy.
• I love C's creative vision. I do not love the breakdown that ensues when she can't figure out how to make the creative vision work.
• I've lost the crafting mojo. I was so motivated for a while, and now ... nothin'.
• I wish telemarketers would get to the point instead of trying to chat with me. Just tell me what you want, already!
• At work WITH my girl due to snow day. Wonder how long that'll last! We have food, leapster and paper. Maybe that'll buy me 30 minutes?!
• J: What's Santa's nickname? Me: I don't think he has a nickname. J: Yes he does! What's his nickname?! Me: Oh - St. Nick? J: Yes! His Nick-name! Silly mommy.
• Snow, snow, go AWAY!!!
• Oh, JOY Club (senior adult group), you make such tasty food, but you totally screw with my plan to eat better in the new year!
• Happy Epiphany! May the Light shine in and through us all.
• After eating fresh chocolate-covered pretzels and licking the bowl, C says, "This is the best day ever! Except when I got my name moved for talking. But that's OK [usually this induces hysterical crying] because time-out with A and A was fun! We pretended we were watching a TV show." Mrs. B could be in trouble now that she's realized there's no incentive not to talk!
• Even better than C's good report: The doctors were able to remove ALL of M's tumor (this was unexpected) - yay!!! Prayers continue for her recovery.
• C's hip is OK. Still a little inward-facing (she can move her legs to crazy angles), but nothing that requires intervention, and it will probably improve with age. We'll check again in a couple more years. Thanks for the prayers!
• We're taking Claire to UVA today to have her hip check-up. It should be routine, but I'm ridiculously nervous. Would appreciate prayers for that, too.
• ‎3-year-old M is having surgery this morning to remove an abdominal neuroblastoma following 6 rounds of chemo. Please pray for her and her mom and dad, J and Mo. (Brian and I went to seminary with Mo.)
• B told the kids that they needed to clean up the playroom because Santa doesn't like to trip over toys - now it's spotless! Too bad Santa doesn't come at least once a week. And yes, I know Santa visited most of you on the 25th, but since we were out-of-town, we asked him to come to our house on the 30th, and he was very obliging.
• One more morning of work and then the travel begins. Woohoo!!! So excited to see S tonight (now, if only she were on facebook and could read that), but sorry we'll miss N :(.
• Wow, sometimes it is really hard being 3.
• At the office while everyone else is at home. It's gonna be a long morning.
• Snow. *sigh*
• I have officially withdrawn from classes for next semester. Oh well, no tests and papers and lectures for me - woohoo!
• The internet can be a ridiculous time-sucker and distraction, but it can also be a lifeline. Today, I am thankful for it.
• So glad this weekend is almost over. Thinking maybe I'd better go to bed right now rather than give it anymore chances to screw with me.
• J update: other than the fact that he looks like someone punched him in the mouth and he sounds a little funny, he's doing just fine this morning. Acting like his normal little self and making me nervous bashing about.
• J is eating cookies and milk for dinner. Since we just spent 3 hours in the ER and he now has 6 stitches in his lip (there was an inch-wide slash all the way through it - ewww), I'm going to call this good parenting.
• Wondering if it's worth braving Kroger to get egg nog.
• Got 6 zhu-zhu pets for $7.34! Score! I feel proud, and I don't even like zhu-zhu pets (really, how ridiculous are they? almost as bad as squinkies).
• C has been asking about what it means to be Jewish. I tried to explain it in a simple, respectful, affirming way that she could understand. Then a few days later she says to me, "When I was a baby, I was a little bit Jewish because I knew the One True God but I didn't know about Jesus." Apparently, my explanation was lacking.
• Finding it hard to limit TV-watching when we're cooped up inside. Bad mom.
• Gearing myself up to be a Scrooge widow this week.
• I went to my first ever Christmas parade last night (yes, ever). Despite the fact that I thought my toes would fall off, I'm glad it was last night and not tonight! Snow already - sheesh.
• One good thing about caring very little about my hair: When the stylist cuts it a good 3 inches shorter than I expected, it's no big deal.
• I drove to work today in front on someone talking on the phone while smoking while driving. Impressive or scary?
• C is singing her homework story today. Butterflies have never been so exciting. No boring homework around here!
• The microwave popcorn industry is diabolically genius. Turns out, all you gotta do is put kernels in a paper bag (with whatever seasoning you want), tape it, and microwave it. I might actually eat popcorn now!
• Some Christmas elves and busy, busy, busy at our house! The question is, will they get it all done in time??

gratitude

I have never been a "stuff" kinda girl.  I've never cared too much about clothes or shoes or gadgets or the latest toy.  I was always more of a saver than a spender, even as a kid.  I almost never spent my allowance or my baby-sitting money.  And I always considered how much something cost.  But this wasn't something I was taught, at least not overtly.  It was just ingrained in me somehow. 

My Girl, though, she's a "stuff" kinda girl.  She loves new fancy clothes and new fun toys and new anything.  She's never asked for big, fancy stuff.  She is genuinely happy with small stuff.  But she likes stuff and has recently discovered the joy of having the same stuff as other kids.  Oh my. 

But she's also started to realize we don't have as much stuff as some others in our community.  Now, we have enough.  More than enough.  But we don't have the latest gadgets or go on the coolest trips or have the most fad toys.  And this is OK with me, but it's not-so-OK with her.  The other day she broke down in tears because she was worried that if kids went to someone else's house (with cooler stuff) then they wouldn't want to come to her house.  Oh my.

It was a wake-up call for me.  My Girl has a loud, in-your-face kind of personality, and it's sometimes easy to assume that means she's confident and self-assured.  But she's not.  She's worried about fitting in (something that is hard for her).  She's worried about not being good enough (schoolwork is sometimes a struggle).  And she's worried about being different.  And in her 6-year-old, concrete little mind, having the right stuff helps with all of that.

I wonder if I have inadvertently contributed to her worry about having stuff.  I try to be content with simple, but I worry about bills.  I worry about going out to eat or shopping or buying anything, really.  I worry about money.  And I wonder if my worry has seeped into her little heart. 

I'm not sure, but I know that I haven't been good at modeling gratitude to her.  Often I haven't modeled it because I haven't felt it.  And that's just not right.  Because I have so very much.  And even if I didn't, I have breath and life and love and beauty.  I am sustained.  More than sustained.  I am lifted up. 

And so I am going to work on gratitude.  In more than a haphazard, occasionally listing my blessings kind of way.  I am going to seek to breathe in and out gratitude with every breath.  And I am going to be grateful with my children and my husband.

My Girl and I have started a list.  "1000 gifts" (pictured above).  The idea was taken from Ann Voskamp, who started it as a blog practice, I think (she's into the 2000s).  But we have hung our list in our dining room where we can see it, and where we will be reminded to look for the gifts.  Small ones and big ones. 

ISFJ?

My Myers-Briggs personality type is ISFJ.  Sort of.  The S and the J both fluctuate a little with the particular test or time of my life.  So none of the personality-types describes me exactly, but a combination of ISFJ and INFJ describe me pretty well.  So when I saw this post from Landon Whitsitt on ISFJ-ers, I had to laugh a little.  And cry a little.

My favorite quote: "They are often taken for granted and occasionally taken advantage of.  Their tendency to find themselves in situations where they are overburdened often results in ISFJs succumbing to a rash of psychosomatic illnesses."  Great.  That's just great.  At least now I know why I tend toward crazy :)!  Inside my head, at least.  People who don't know me well often mistakenly think I that I am calm.  If only they knew!

Other notable quotes:

• "ISFJs can be found in all communities of faith in the roles that require and encourage service."
• These are definitely the roles I lean toward, though I don't have so many of those roles here - I've held back more in Roanoke, for good or bad.
• "The chances of finding an ISFJ in a larger church would likely be rare because their opportunities to be 'needed' would be fewer."
• This would probably be true of me, though I never thought of it in terms of needing to be needed, if I weren't married to an associate pastor.
• "No one should ever be worried about an ISFJ sacrificing for others – it’s built into the fabric of their self-understanding. What is imperative for the ISFJ to learn, however, is the value of the perspectives of others’ worldviews. Due to their highly developed internal sense of what is proper and good, the ISFJ can cut themselves off from other to such a degree that they begin living in such a way as to constantly reinforce their own senses of safety and certainty."
• This point bothered me at first, and is one point where I don't quite fit the profile because I am pretty good at being a mediator or peacemaker when placed in that role.  BUT, while I recognize and accept differences, I do have a rather strong sense of what is good, even when I don't live up to it.  And I do desire safety and security, often to an unhealthy degree.  So this point is a good reminder to me to be careful that I don't allow my inward sense of rightness to overshadow the value in others (or myself).
•  "ISFJs ... possess strong feeling of inadequacy."
• Yep.

From PersonalityDesk:

Famous ISFJs include Mother Teresa, Barbara Bush, Kristy Yamaguchi, Robert E. Lee (?!), Queen Elizabeth II, and Louisa May Alcott.

Interesting facts about the ISFJ:

■On personality trait measures, score as Conservative, Conventional, Guarded, and Reserved
■Among types most likely to believe in a higher spiritual power
■More likely than average to experience chronic pain
■Among types most likely to suffer heart disease
■Second most common type among education majors in college
■More likely than other types to watch more than 3 hours of television per day
■Personal values include Happy family, Health and Spirituality
■Overrepresented among MBA students and male small business owners
■Among three types with the lowest income
■Commonly found in education, health care, and religious occupations

So apparently I am prone to illness.  And inadequacy.  And business? - definitely not. 

Personality inventories can be fun.  And enlightening.  But they must also be taken a little lightly.  Because my Self cannot be contained in one page geared toward describing 14% of the population.  So I will not worry about my proclivities toward disease, but I will be honest about my tendency toward over-burdening myself (often by dwelling on conflict or sadness or frustration rather than by accepting too many tasks).  And I will be honest about my tendency to live inside my head, making it hard to know me.

And I will be thankful - thankful that God made me to be loving and loyal and compassionate.  Thankful that God has led me toward a job that doesn't stress me out, even when I long for more (what a gift - I can see that I am in a good place, even when it's not the place I would've chosen).  Thankful that I am nurturing and practical and happy to work behind the scenes.  Thankful for my own Self and for the Selves around me who nurture me and challenge me and live out community with me. 

May we love one another, recognizing the divine in ourselves and in each one we meet, no matter how different.

"fight" for what you believe?

I have thought and thought and thought about this blog post.  I had one almost completely written and then scrapped it.  There's both so much I want to say and no words to say it.  Others have spoken much more eloquently and meaningfully and thoughtfully than I can.  But for my children, I write this:

Earlier this week, a madman killed 6 people and wounded 20 others, including Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, in Tucson, Arizona.  President Obama led a memorial service for the victims on Wednesday.  I turned on the TV to watch "Modern Family."  I didn't turn off the TV because your dad was there and he wanted to see.  He is braver than me.  I only watched part of it because I made it through Obama's tribute to each of the 6 who died, and then couldn't see through my tears and decided for my own sake to walk out of the room.  But maybe I should have stayed.  I've read about some of the moments that I missed.  Moments when kindness and bravery and hope shone in the midst of the sadness. 

For this is a great, great sadness.  My heart has felt heavy all week.  It is most heavy for the victims, for the lives that are irreparably changed. 

But the heaviness that was already carried in my gut and has only been increased by this tragedy, is the heaviness that our nation is so angry and bitter and violent toward one another.  Not just with guns, but with speech.  This tragedy has only further hightlighted how diveded we are.  We use words as weapons.  And though words did not shoot anyone, and words may not be directly (or even indirectly) responsible for a madman, they do foster an environment in which it becomes OK to degrade, to tear down, to demonize, to hate. 

Paul Krugman asserts in an opinion piece in the NY Times that there is little hope for a middle ground in our country right now, for the two sides (right and left) have such fundamentally different morality.  So Obama's call to "expand our moral imagination, to listen to each other more carefully" (from the memorial service) is doomed to failure.  Krugman says we need to discuss how to speak our differences within bounds and within the rule of law, but he does not expect us to understand one another or compromise with one another.  We're just too different.

Maybe he's right.  I hope he's wrong. 

I hope that at least now we will be more careful with our words, more careful about how we portray the opposition, whoever that might be.  And I hope that we will listen to one another.  We may not come to agreement, but I do believe that listening to the "other" can shift our hearts, away from anger and rancor to respect (even begrudging) and actual liking.  I can like people who believe differently.  I don't have to fight them.  I can stand up for what I believe without tearing down those who disagree.  


From a reader of Andrew Sullivan's blog at The Atlantic on "The View from Tucson:"

I was at Rep. Giffords' office late last night. I wanted to get a few photos to help me deal with what happened, and there were still people there well past midnight. The FOX News crew was packing up, and it was cold (40s with a dry breeze). The news crew seemed friendly enough, but nobody talked much - whether the crowd was 300 (at 6pm) people or 10 (at midnight). There was still too much weight to speak.

Ten years ago, Tucson seemed to be home to a range of opinions, from the Greens to the Libertarians to the Dems and Republicans. Even the University of Arizona logo is red and blue. Now Tucson feels blue or red - a mix of only two sides. But this is belied by the mix of homages at her office: Mexican Catholic votives and rosaries, Jewish symbols, Vets for Gabby placards, University of Arizona mascots, private religious school posters (with hundreds of well-wishes or signatures), childrens' stuffed animals. They were placed by the hundreds of yuppies, grandparents, rednecks, and kids standing around with candles and pizza that were donated by local businesses.

The change from shades to bichromatic happened within 10 years; perhaps it will change again.

Let it be. Dear God, let it be.

new ventures for a new year

I already posted about some of my hopes for the new year.  Not even 2 weeks into the new year, and I'm already behind on some of them (cleaning as I go - hah!), but I'm still hopeful!  I ran across a blog post by Ann Voskamp in which she describes making a 100 Days Calendar (described here, pdf here) of 3 small goals every day that she checks off for each day for 100 days.  It's a visual reminder and a small sense of accomplishment when that check is made.  I'm considering trying that with a few of my hopes for the year.  But I'm not much of a list-maker.  I'm still considering.

I have a couple of new projects for this year.  First, a friend and I are dreaming/working toward a project in conjunction with her church that has me very excited.  I won't divulge more details until we have more of the nuts and bolts hammered out, but this thinking and dreaming stage is a lot of fun - particularly since I'm not immediately responsible for the initial details that need to be decided!

I've also taken up a new blogging-type challenge.  Bruce Reyes-Chow (the one who originally inspired me to begin a blog) has challenged his readers to post a picture a day of their lives.  I've really enjoyed keeping up with his pictures and a few others involved in this, so I've decided to try it myself (though I'm not going to link in with the group - I still hold back from some of this online world, for better or worse).  I'm hoping it will be another tool to help me pay attention to this bright life and notice the details (my husband can tell you how bad I am at that!).  So if you're interested in joining me on that journey, I've started posting the daily photos at http://thisbrightlife.posterous.com/.  I don't expect to keep up with a picture every day, but maybe a few a week?  We'll see.  I'm trying to hold all of this lightly.

So despite a couple of set-backs last week, I'm still feeling excited and hopeful for this new year.  And grateful for the community I have which encourages me on our journey.

light

Yesterday was Epiphany.  January 6 - the 12th day of Christmas.  I didn't grow up in a liturgical church tradition, so Epiphany was not something I'd ever heard of until I was an adult.  And then I thought it was just the day to remember the Wise Men.  Which it is, but there are lots of other remembrances and traditions also associated with the day (I checked Wikipedia - oh, my - my low church brain is spinning).  My favorite tradition listed: The Great Fruitcake Toss! 

Though we're relatively new to this liturgical stuff, especially as parents, My Man and I are trying to follow the church calendar as much as we can in our home.  We're learning as we go.  He particularly appreciates Kimberlee Conway Ireton's book The Circle of Seasons as a family resource.  I have yet to read it, but it's on my to-read list!

So for Epiphany this year, we took up the House Blessing tradition.  Using the liturgy from our new prayer book, we said a prayer for each room or area of our home.  The kiddoes began the blessing with us.  C started us off by writing 20CMB11 in chalk outside our front door (commemorating the year and the Wise Men - CMB being the initials of their traditional names).  Both kids stuck with us through the blessings of their own rooms, but then wandered off to their own pursuits while B and I finished.  I think this is something we'll try to make a family tradition.  Dedicating our home for purposes of hospitality and peace and rest and good work.  People who come to our front door may wonder about the grafitti, but it's a good reminder to us!

One other thing I did was to make a white paper star.  Then, using a modified idea from The Blue Room Blog, I wrote 12 words on pieces of paper.  Words like faith, community, radiance.  And after a brief prayer, I randomly picked one word and taped it to the star.  I plan to pick a new word each month.  My hope is that I will carry that word before me as I go, reminding me, challenging me, encouraging me.  My word for this month is "joy."  Perfect. 

As we enter this season of Epiphany, remembering the beginning of Jesus' life, the gifts given to him and the gifts he prepared to give, may we remember that the Light shines in and through us, and may we magnify that light.  Amen.

letting go

Do you ever feel like God is f*&%ing with you.  Blasphemous, perhaps.  But honestly, that's how it feels sometimes.  It may not be true, but it's how it feels.  Just after posting that hopeful new year's post yesterday, a series of events came down on my head, blowing that hope out of the water, and ending with me crying in a fetal position on my bathroom floor (drama queen? at least now I know where C gets it).  And really, none of the events was very major.  Just a series of WTF moments that make me want to bang my head against the wall. 

But they're just moments.  Small moments (well, except for the ID theft thing, but even that can be taken care of).  Moments that are frustrating, but not life-determining.  And this is where I falter a good bit.  I tend to have a fight-or-flight reaction to these things, and since I'm more of a peacemaker than a fighter, my first response is often "well, f*&% this, let's just drop it and run."  But that's not healthy.  I recognize.  At least, it's not healthy to automatically run without taking time to calm down and consider.  Taking time to realize, this isn't that big a deal.  Let it go. 

Sometimes it is right to drop things and move on.  After all, that's one of my biggest frustrations with the institutional church - it's inability (oftentimes, not always) to drop that which is no longer serving any good purpose.  And sometimes it's right for me, personally, to drop a particular direction or idea or dream or even relationship.  Sometimes it's right for me to run.  But not always, or even usually.  I have this inkling that we are more often supposed to stay, to work, to struggle, to hope.  I am at the very least supposed to prayerfully consider jumping or running before actually jumping or running.

But honestly, jumping and running can be easier.  I can move at the drop of a hat if necessary (though I pray to God it won't be necessary!).  I can grab hold of a new direction with a tight grasp, if only it will shove the current difficulty out of my brain.  Because emotionally letting go - that I have a problem with.  Letting go of events out of my control.  Letting go of drama that isn't serving any purpose.  Letting go of dreams that don't quite work out. 

Letting go of the obsessive chatter in my head.  I'm always a little jealous of those who seem to let things roll right over them.  I want that ability!  Desperately!  But that's not how I'm wired.  I stay awake at night, going over and over and over whatever it is that bothers me.  So last night after my crying jag on the bathroom floor, I figured I was in for a long night.  But I got out the prayer book and sat in my ghetto recliner to do evening prayer.  And guess what - it helped!  Who'd'a thunk it?!  *sigh*

I don't think prayer is a magical cure for all ills.  I've certainly prayed often enough without feeling like I was getting anywhere.  But last night, for that moment, praying the prayer book (which means I don't have to think really hard about what words to say - a plus for me) set all that drama in my head in its place.  It cleared out the chatter and re-filled the void with some hope.  And I slept.  Yes, I actually slept.  And I even got up at 5:30 this morning! 

God is good, and God's light shines, circumstances notwithstanding.  There is a place for us.  There are dreams for us.  There is a community for us, and there is good work for us.  The Light shines.  A good remembrance for today, Epiphany.

a new year

There's been lots of online chatter about new year's resolutions and anti-resolutions.  The chatter I've seen seems to lean toward the anti-resolution:  there's no point in making resolutions because we always fail so why bother.  I get this, and lean toward this myself most years, but there's something rejuvenating about hanging up a new calendar and imagining the possibilities for a new year.  It's a time of hopefulness, and that's something I want to hold onto.  The end of 2010 was a bit dark.  Not horrendously so, but there was a general feeling of tiredness and frustration and emotional exhaustion at our house.  There were bright moments, too - always there are bright moments - but the time as a whole was a bit dreary. 

Now, though, we've had a long holiday break, time with family and friends, time for fun and frivolity.  So as we begin this new year, I feel more ready to embrace it.  More hope.  And even though I never make New Year's Resolutions, this year I am going to set down some New Year's Hopes. 

My hopes for 2011:

• that I will get up at 5:30 every morning (OK, not every morning, but maybe a few mornings a week) for prayer, scripture and yoga.  I began the yoga in 2010 but was a major slacker at the end of the year.  And this year My Man bought us a new prayer book (Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals) which I like very much, so I hope that the prayer/scripture aspect of the morning will improve greatly.
• that I will pray and read scripture more with my children, and that I will encourage their creativity and independence.
• that I will pursue a dream with a friend, without letting pessimism derail it.  Steps, baby, steps.
• that I will work to build community where I can, and not be sad about lack of community other places.
• that I will intentionally connect with far-away friends more regularly.  Pick up the phone, sister!
• that I will organize the dining room and playroom so that they are more user friendly for us all (moving a craft/writing table into the playroom and reserving the dining room for more messy stuff). 
• that I will clean as I go (hah! I know that hope is doomed).
• that I will turn off the TV or put down the book or close the computer, and create more often.
• that I will spend more time with my husband (sans kiddoes!).
• that I will stop and notice the brightness all around.
• that I will be a positive presence, less withdrawn, more open.  And along those lines, that I will speak out loud what I'm thinking more often.

OK, that's enough.  I could go on, I'm sure, but let's get a little real!  Happy 2011!

four christmases ?!

Yes, we had four - FOUR! - Christmases.  This is not out-of-the-ordinary for me.  I grew up expecting three (one at home and one with each set of grandparents).  This, though, is the first year my own little family has had so many.  I like it.  It spreads out the holiday madness some, allowing special time for each set of gifts, and helps the kids know exactly what came from who. 

Christmas #1

Our first Christmas was with My Man's parents, who are local to us.  Since we were going to be traveling for the 25th, we got together the previous Saturday.  We began the day with a trip to the movie theater - J's very first! - to see Tangled.  I ignored my conflicted feelings about Disney princesses, and we all had a good time.  It was a fun movie, and both kids enjoyed it.  This was only C's second movie theater movie, and it was a much better choice than the first (The Princess and the Frog - which is a good movie, but is freaky and not as fun).  C got the first present she asked for here: a unicorn pillow pet!
















Christmas #2

Our second Christmas was in Oklahoma with my parents.  Aside from the madness of airline travel with small kids, the week was very relaxing - a real break - just the 6 of us chillin' together.  Except for the brief episode on Christmas afternoon of J vomiting all over the place for 2 hours.  But then he was fine.  C got the second present she asked for here:  zhu-zhu pets.  That was all she asked for, a pillow pet and zhu-zhu pet.  They may be silly, but I appreciate that she's happy with small things!




















Christmas #3

Our third Christmas was our at-home Christmas.  This was the one that involved Santa (who only brings one present each in our household - we've asked Santa to hold back) and our own presents to the kids and each other.  B and I worked to make this particular Christmas a handmade Christmas as much as possible, knowing that the other Christmases would still be filled with bright and shiny store-bought goodness.

Play tents and felt boards:

A puppet theater:

Pixie Hollow (Santa present for C):

Blocks and Snot Rod (Santa presents for J - yes, there are 2, but Snot Rod was so little, and the only thing J asked for, that Santa threw in a second present for good measure):

And apron for Daddy (with matching ones for each kiddo):


Christmas #4

Our final Christmas was actually the same day as Christmas #3, just later in the afternoon.  This one was back at B's parents' home with his sister, Aunt Anita. 



It was a good Christmas season.  And technically it's still going.  The 12 Days of Christmas end on Thursday with Epiphany.  So our decorations are still up, and we're planning a house blessing on Epiphany to mark the day.  We've never done that before, so I'll let you know how it goes.  We just finished up our Jesse tree yesterday since we were out-of-town for so long during the end of Advent.  It's still hanging in our dining room and is a nice reminder of the many characters God worked in and through to prepare us for the coming of the Christ-child. 

Merry Christmas!