the many happenings of November and December

Silas turned 3! We celebrated with a family party and a trip to the zoo. He was a happy boy.

My Mom and brother Steven visited for Thanksgiving. We braved Washington D.C. and Annapolis in verrrrry coooold walking weather, and cooked a lot of comfort food. This was one of my favorite Thanksgivings so far: the boys were up early rolling out pie dough with Ricky and me, and that set the stage for a peaceful day of cooking. We even had time to walk by the lake while the turkey roasted.  

My brother Luke came home from Italy and stopped by our place for a few days. He was all traveled out, so we enjoyed a lot of cozy at-home time. He brought really good wine, and we made good food to go with it. We did venture out to see The Hobbit 2 in Imax 3-D, which very much exceeded my expectations visually. Luke, being one of those people who actually read the book, of course had some qualms about the adaptation.

Ricky's family came for Christmas (we started a new tradition a few years ago of alternating cities, and this was our turn) and we rented a big house in Annapolis so we could all stay together. It had an enormous kitchen, a fireplace, huge windows, and many other fun details--the boys' favorite being the electric fireplace in their room. 

 The grandparents stayed a few extra days, and we ventured out to see the big tree in D.C., and took Nicky ice skating at the National Sculpture Garden. It's one of my favorite spots in the city: Nicky used to take naps there when he was a toddler and we lived here for a summer, and it has an enormous fountain that doubles as a skating rink in the winter.

Ricky and I even got to take a little getaway to Philadelphia, which was truly special. We saw the Pennsylvania Ballet Company perform The Nutcracker on its final night, and visited the touristy things like Independence Hall, the "Rocky steps" at the Philadelphia Art Museum, and the Eastern State Penitentiary. And of course we sampled some cheesesteaks.

We made it back home for a quiet New Year's Eve with good food and drink, and one last night with Abuela and Yoko (there's a story behind the name; let's just say Nicky couldn't quite say Abuelo when he was little) and a farewell to them on New Year's Day.

Whoosh! We're tired but happy, and right now enjoying a big-for-us snowfall from last night. I may wrap my head around a routine again sometime soon. I hope your holidays were lovely; I don't think ours have ever been this jam-packed before! We were rich in visitors, which is really quite special when you've moved thousands of miles and don't see family too often.

On to 2014!

sentimental

Both the biggest challenge and the biggest reward of my life is to look for God in it. Here are some of the things that fill my days and nights: cyclical chores and tasks, folding still-tiny onesies and then cargo pants with a new knee-hole each week, an alarm clock that goes off at six am or two pm depending on the day, a fan in a cool room where I sit and blink it all away. I move through some days smack full of wonder. I cannot believe their eyelashes, his steadfast way with them, the way I'm so happy for them to have such a father, the overwhelming beauty of upturned dirt and baby green sprouting.

Spring always does this to me, even though this year I was starting to wonder if it would happen, after months of wind and tired. Some nights, I drive off to the hospital and make more work for myself, by choice, something I can't really explain. I hold hands and coach breathing and try to keep up: two months ago I was a snail and now I'm something like a marching ant. Cheetah is the goal, I'm pretty sure. But we're getting there. It's a dream, but it's filled with startling reality; nothing and yet everything to get sentimental about. Babies are born, and maybe I don't cry each time anymore but when a new mother wanted a picture with me it made my week.

What made my week this week: my baby girl waved and smiled at me during therapy on Monday. It just about did me in. I have memories inscribed in me of the sweet times I've spent with each of my babies, just the two of us. Now it's our turn, she and I, to sit in the grass together and speak our own little language. Something clicks and you realize how precious it all is.

I might be embarrassed about feeling so much, if it wasn't the thing that has saved me and keeps doing so.

pick up your feet

This morning I was supposed to go to work, but at 0520 learned I would be on-call. It's been an abnormally slow winter, and on top of that I scheduled myself sparely around the holidays, and on top of that The Sickness took over our house, so it's been some time since I've been in. Still, I won't complain about a stolen Saturday.

We very much have a family bed by the wee hours of the morning. Only Little Miss prefers her own bed, for now anyway. So I took some time to just listen to their breathing, and smiled in the dark as Silas and Nicky took turns throwing their arms up, stretching, turning, and breathing back into a pattern. Moments when I can think beyond being tired and just enjoy their presence: what a treasure.

To listen to their breathing, notice the curvature of their faces, tuck them in again, to say yes to going outside, to say yes more in general: all good decisions. Expand, make yourself small, then find yourself again. It's an odd but beautiful daily lesson.

Enjoy. There are days when I have to fight to fit the word in, somehow. That's my goal though. Not only the fight, but the long attempt to change my thinking. Life is beautiful, and oh so hard, when you have these melancholy tendencies. When you go easily to the dark side, I like to say and laugh, but oh---it is dark. Sludgy, tedious.

Distance is a daunting thing to me lately. How am I going to get there? When I used to run, a coach once gave me some excellent advice. He said that when you get tired and want to slow down, pick up your feet. Smaller, quicker steps can help you to keep going, and you may even go faster. So I'm trying to stop thinking about the distance and keep looking around, keep giving thanks, and just pick up my feet. The idea is not to strive endlessly I suppose, but to make small, love-filled choices and one day realize you've gotten somewhere.

.

what works

I'm blogging through Kathy Escobar's fantastic series, Rebuilding after Deconstructing, in an effort to clarify some things for myself, to share my story, and to encourage forward motion. This is so not about whining or placing blame, or picking on any person or institution.  Just the story of God and me, up to now... abridged. 

See also Deconstruction, the wall and the journey inward: part I, the wall and the journey inward: part II, loss, and what remains.

An important part of this journey for me has been finding ways to run to God instead of from God, even when I'm not too sure what's what. Like I mentioned before, I truly believe this process has been mostly about re-defining who God is to a soul that's become sad and cynical over time (yup, that's me.) One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Psalm 27:13--I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

In order to have an authentic belief in God as a good being; I've needed to somehow disconnect Him from some negative associations. I've found that this sort of thing takes a lot of time, intention, and space.

Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts has been hugely influential for me. The beauty of her prose, the raw-ness of her story, and her desire to be well all resonated with me. I found comfort and inspiration in her words. I started keeping my own gratitude lists; noticing the beauty right in front of me. The thing that's really special about what Ann proposes though, is choosing to see all of the beautiful little details as gifts from God. It's brave, really, to choose to see a sunset or an unexpected surprise or the expression on your child's face while he sleeps as gifts from a loving God--it's brave when you're torn apart about whether or not He's good, anyway. It's a bold declaration of faith in what you're not quite sure of.

So that has really helped. My thank-you's began as tentative whispers, but I can see now how thanking God for the small things has made Him bigger in my life. He's in the bedtime stories, the garden planting, the momentarily clean kitchen, the coffee outside in the morning, the much-needed conversation. He's here; and I'm starting to like him again. He's starting to feel like a friend again. It's actually a little weird to say again, because in a way this all feels pretty new.

What else worked/works?

• giving up dutiful Bible reading (the kind that stems from obligation, not love)
• practicing stillness, being quiet, listening
• getting honest on this blog; being braver in my conversations
• books about spirituality
• day to day things with my kids--I've found space in my days for prayer and contemplation, for meeting with God while I go about my routines. Also, the times when I feel overwhelmed as a parent have become points of connection with God. I'm asking for help more, and trusting that he will help me more. 
• my job--because it's mentally and physically challenging, and I miss my family when I'm gone, and I often see my children in my patients. Because it gets me out of my head. Because it helps me to remember Jesus, the least of these, and what this is all about.
• working through some issues in my marriage
• pursuing the dream of foster adoption (another step of faith)
• honoring the creative spark, making space for it

Those are the big things that come to mind. Everything is spiritual; I believe that. A healthy mind, marriage, home atmosphere, nurturing of dreams, silliness, laughter--all of those things are spiritual, so putting those things in order help me to be in tune with the divine. I feel a new steadiness because of it.

what remains

I'm blogging through Kathy Escobar's fantastic series, Rebuilding after Deconstructing, in an effort to clarify some things for myself, to share my story, and to encourage forward motion. This is so not about whining or placing blame, or picking on any person or institution.  Just the story of God and me, up to now... abridged. 

See also Deconstruction, the wall and the journey inward: part I, the wall and the journey inward: part II, and loss

I talk more about what I don't know than what I know. You know? :) Honestly, it's a lot easier to tear down than to build up. This is where the building up begins.

Today, I'm thinking about what I do know; what I haven't lost. Here's what I think remains for me:

• prayer. I can't imagine a day without it. Not really a structured kind, more of a meditative, talk-to-your-heart, listen, breathe kind of thing. Some of the prayers I say often are I will not live with anger in my heart, I will not be afraid of what people think of me, I will not hide my face from you, Oh God, and most recently just I am here. God is here. And then just naming who God is to me, who I know him to be. He brings clarity. He comforts. He understands. He is freshness and light and newness. I'm less likely to give him credit for the bad stuff these days. I'm redefining to my fickle, distrusting, wounded heart who my God really is. That's actually what I think my whole process of deconstruction has been about.

• words. This one just occurred to me. I still have the gift of words. I have beautiful old songs that speak to me, and poetry, and there are passages of Scripture that don't make my heart hurt. (One day I hope that none of them will, we'll see.) But I have a huge collection of words that soothe, heal and inspire.

• community. I have dear people in my life that I can be real with. That is no small thing.

• a sense of awe. It's not gone. When I hear stories of restoration, when I see beautiful things, when I talk about my experience with the divine and see that spark of recognition in another person's eyes--I am full of awe. God is bigger than I can make sense of.

• Jesus. I have had moments where I'm full of doubt and fear, where I go to church and feel like I don't speak the language anymore and what was once familiar is now bizarre, but I love Jesus, and I continue to feel his kindness. I get to hold onto that.

often, we think it’s all gone because it feels that way.  but if we dig down deep, we discover that there are remnants of our faith left.  parts that still are alive.  parts that can’t be taken away.

-Kathy Escobar 

29 gifts

• waking up to the sound of baby feet headed my way, and little boy whispers and Papa directing.
• my sweet husband who seriously spoiled me today--with lovely presents, birthday pancakes and coffee, and a whole day together....and he spent a good chunk of time outside in the cold wind cutting boards for the play kitchen  I'm making we're making for the kiddos. 
• the way he makes me feel so, so loved.
• the way he plays with our kids.
• my new iPad (wow!) that's on it's way (seriously spoiled here).
• the fun of opening up facebook and seeing lots of sweet, funny and encouraging messages (remember birthdays before facebook?)
• this song I heard this morning. I am so grateful for God's perfect peace. I feel it in my marrow lately.
• my church community
• this post and specifically Isaiah 50:4-10. To know the word that sustains the weary. So, so beautiful. 
• color when I look out the window
• Nicky, who thanked God for doors (so when we go places we can go in) and napkins, and for the food, and for "everything" when he prayed for dinner tonight. Actually, his prayers in general are a gift--he always thanks God for whatever little thing is on his mind. I told him he already knows some pretty important stuff about life.
• Another Nicky thing--on Sunday he helped one of our friends clean up her classroom after church, without being asked (and actually I didn't know where he was), after an illustrated sermon that was largely about being a servant like Jesus. Coincidence, or maybe he "got it"....either way I'm a proud mama.
• laughter
• gardens, potential
• one more year of being twenty-something, because I'm a bit more aware of my mortality these days.
• soul-stirrings and dreams
• Nicky putting a pillow under my feet before he went to bed so I'll be "comf-ter-ble"
• baby curls and soft after-bath skin
• Silas, blowing kisses and waving goodbye, head-butting and laughing, burying his face in the dog and marching around like he owns the place, asking for mas and laying his head on my shoulder. I'm a mama of a toddler again, and I kind of love it (mostly. you know.)
• Ricky helping me paint the back door blue. I love how it turned out.
• Springtime and energy, even if it does include the darn wind. 
• text messages from my mom
• a group of people to meet with each week and talk about the deeper things--it's been awhile since we made time for a small group and it's so nice to be part of one again. 
• finally deciding on the script/design for my tattoo--hopefully getting it soon!
• courage to tell the truth, and also to listen
• heavy burdens being lifted
• the big piece of tiramisu I'm about to share with Ricky
• stillness.
• knowing that no matter what day it is, my favorite thing is just to be with my little family

open

There is color everywhere. Speckled eggs on a dish, a new can of slate blue paint for the back door, my toenails, more rose and yellow and pale blue in the laundry pile. We leave the back door open; the kids and the dog meander in and out. This I remember especially to enjoy, because it will be too hot soon enough. Right now it's all open windows and fresh air and potential.

We poke seeds into the ground: spinach and lettuce and wildflowers, and I keep finding so much happiness in little things. Watching an indie film while the floor dries. Folding whites, wiping away dust. Naptime, sadness, the luxury of mindfulness because it means there is space in the day. Scribbling with chalk on warm concrete. Weather that warrants ice cream and trips to the park and skirts and dinner outside. I feel the sort of elation and then calm that comes after you take a leap of faith. When you look around, and it's enough, and it's also okay to dream, and the deepest-rooted thing I know comes back to me:

everything is spiritual; every day is a gift. There is the seen and the unseen. I let all this swirl, lift it back up, say

thank
you

once
again.

scenes from Thanksgiving

Grandma and Nicky make pies the night before

brothers play drums underfoot

turkey beware

breakfast pie

prepping the bird

table set

late afternoon light

Menu: turkey, apple cranberry stuffing, steamed green beans, orange zested cranberry sauce, black olives, mixed mashed potatoes, gravy, and maple roasted butternut squash.

time to dig in.

I think next time we'll need a bigger table.

good things

All week I've been taking pictures of food. It just strikes me as such a pretty thing lately, especially with summer in full bloom and all of it's vibrant offerings. For me, this is a way to remember to be grateful, and to make it special, like I wrote about before. It really is the little things that make the day.

Here are a few recipes we really enjoyed this week:

1. I Ain't Chicken Chicken with Watermelon, Feta, and Arugula Salad. Eaten outside, with cold iced tea, watching the clouds roll in, enjoying a little break from the heat wave. The chicken might make a little more sense for fall, since it had to be roasted in a very hot oven, and smelled like Thanksgiving. It was so, so good though.

Nicky's version. One of these days I will get this boy to eat salad.

2. Toasted nine grain bread with melted mozzarella, green peppers (from the garden, yay!), roasted red peppers, and dijon mustard, with this cranberry walnut coleslaw. One of those last minute dinners that came together well. Love when that happens.

3. the breakfast Ricky made for us on Saturday morning. I love Saturdays with him. We had such a nice day, starting with this lovely meal, then school supply shopping for Nicky, Hawaiian food for lunch, a trip to the theater to see Cars 2 (I spent the last half in the truck driving Silas around so he could go to sleep). It was our last Saturday all together before Nicky starts kindergarten.

Nicky and I made these cute Angry Birds pom-poms. I love that he has just as much fun throwing them at a stack of cups as he does when he plays the game on our phones.

3. Harvest from Saturday morning. The first real butternut squash. I'm thinking of ways to use these this week.

4. Carnitas and Mexican Coke. The crock pot is such a good friend to me. 

More and more I'm thanking God for the little things in life. Days with a lot of space in them are good. There needs to be room to spare in my life. I need to pause more, not less. Spending time preparing food really helps me with that. It's one of those everyday, sometimes mundane tasks that is so spiritual for me if I choose for it to be. I'm starting to see how domestic tasks really lend themselves to contemplation, meditation, prayer (all the same thing perhaps, at the end of the day)....I want more of that. More of the simple joys.

welcome home

My brother came home from war. He saw things that most of us will not, and did a great deal of good. He disposes of bombs, usually by blowing them up, so that they don't blow up people. It was hard to hear some of his stories. There are things about the human condition that I don't have to confront very often, that others confront every single day.

Luke has a quiet, dry sense of humor. He's quick and witty. He's still waters. He's twenty-one years old. I'm so, so glad he's home and safe, with his whole life ahead of him.