Guilford Road: IloveyouI'mcrying

Star of the Week--3rd Grade

2011-10-05T06:44:00.001-05:00

Lucy's teacher will be reading this to the class today...

October 6, 2011

Dear Lucy:

I am so excited you are Star of the Week in Mrs. R.s’ class!

As you already know, of course, you were born on Saturday, June 7, 2003. Your dad and I waited 8 whole years for you, and we were so thrilled when you arrived! Our whole family was! You were the first grandchild.

We named you Lucy after the little girl in C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, because she had great faith and was brave enough to do what was right. You are a lot like her already!

You have always been fun to be around. You love to read and be read to, to swim, to do art projects, to play dress up, and to cook.

From the time you were born, we have read together. I remember a winter day when you were just a toddler—you sat and listened while I read 138 pages to you! You would have liked more, but I think my voice wore out. One of my favorite times with you was reading the book The Sixty-Eight Rooms, writing to the author, and then getting to visit the actual rooms ourselves.

I am so proud of you for working hard every week at swimming. When you started when you were 2 years old, you just wanted to play with the toys in the water. Now you can swim 500 meters and are on the swim team!

You love drawing and coloring and painting and have made a lot of art projects over the years. Your best picture was the one you drew for your Manga. You were 6 years old and had just asked Jesus into your heart. You were feeling so sad that Manga had cancer and would be leaving us soon, so you drew a picture of you and her standing on the streets of gold in heaven with Jesus and you wrote “Together Forever” on it; then we framed it. It was her favorite possession, and when she died, we put that drawing on the program cover of her memorial service. It made people there so happy to see your beautiful picture, reminding them that someday we’ll be in heaven together forever!

Lucy, besides being sweet and kind, you are very funny, too, but not always on purpose. When you were 2 ½, we were writing notes to put in Daddy’s lunch bag the next day. Your sister, Elaine, was just a baby and was swinging in her swing, screaming. I asked you, “What do you think Elaine would like to write in her note?” You said disgustedly, “Dear Daddy. I love you. I’m crying. Love, Smoochie.”

When you were 4 and Elaine was 2, she turned on the fan in the bathroom. It made a horrible noise, and she started to cry. You ran and turned it off and said to her, “You should thank me, Elaine. I hope you know I just saved your life!”

One morning when you were 5, you woke me up and said, “Mommy! I lost my tooth!” When I asked you how, you said, “I was pretending to be a dog. I bited Elaine’s foot, and my tooth came out!”

Lucy, this summer you turned 8 years old—I could hardly believe it! You are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday you were my little baby. Now you love school and music and friends and AWANA and your family. You are so enthusiastic about life and people. Dad and I are so happy that Jesus is your Savior and that you want to live for Him. I know God has great plans for your life!!! You are a wonderful daughter and an awesome big sister and a dear friend.

You may be the Star in your class this week, but you will always be the Star of my heart!

I love you!

Love,
Mom

We Also

2011-09-11T18:27:00.007-05:00

Yesterday was the Living Proof Live simulcast--I didn't make it to Lubbock, TX, to the live version, but I did attend a screening here in town, along with, I think if I had to estimate, about 500 other women.

The theme of the message was Luke, the good doctor, and his example to us. Scriptures were Luke 1:1-4, and Acts 1:1-4 (among many others).

Seven main points:
1. We were created for good company (that is, with "those who call upon the Lord from a pure heart)
2. An individual calling can only be fulfilled in a "we" context.
3. God never overlooks a single "me" in the bigger "we."
4. (my favorite point--more later on this) Jesus became a friend of sinners so we could become a friend of God.
5. We can revel in the certainty of the things we've been taught.
6. Jesus has passed us the salt also.
7. (my other favorite point) We can also be the many convincing proofs that Jesus is alive.

I probably have more notes on this Living Proof conference than any of the others I've been to.

For #4, Beth spoke about the chapter in Luke where the Pharisees accused Jesus of sitting down to table with drunkards and being the friend of sinners. She showed a picture on the screen of this tiny creature that you couldn't even tell what it was, that her sister-in-law's cat had dragged in. (It was a squirrel.) She told the backstory of that but then related it to this chapter in Luke and how right after the Pharisees accused Jesus of being the friend of sinners, Luke tells the story of the dinner with the Pharisees where the woman comes and anoints Jesus. She said that the Pharisees had no idea that actually, they were the sinners that Jesus sat down to table with. She asked us to identify ourselves in that story and then said this, which I think I will remember forever, "What's your story? Can you look at yourself and say, 'Just look at what the Lion of Judah dragged in?!'"

For the closing, #7, Beth had spoken about Luke and how he never made a big deal about himself or tried to insert his name into the gospel or the book of Acts. All of a sudden he'd be using the term "they" and would then change it to "we." She said how as Christians, we want to be the main thing and do something big for God and go where no one else has gone--except Christ has already gone there. So, we should be content to be as Luke, a "we also"--then she read many verses pertaining to the things "we also" will receive through Jesus, and "Oh, to be a blessed 'also'!"

She said that an ancient historian described Luke's death this way: "at age 84, he fell asleep in Boasha (Greece), full of the Holy Spirit." She then said, "Luke spent his life telling the story of Jesus Christ as the only One. Don't you want your story to be Luke's story, simply this: 'I love You, Jesus.'"

This last point is something I am thinking about in my own life lately, particularly with all the forms of social/personal media available to us--how much do I want this life to be my story? How often do I check my blog stats (I resolve to stop doing this any more)? Do I need to be always checking my facebook to see if anyone is noticing me and what I say? Really, just any of the countless ways I endeavor to insert myself into the story. So gross. Please let me take a page from Luke and revel in being an "also"! Let my life story be: I love You, Jesus.

And of course there was a lot of worship time during the day, which I love. This conference covered 48 states, 12 countries, 3 military bases, and 1 women's correctional center, for a total of 180,000 women (and a few brave men).

We sang this one, which, as worship leader Travis Cottrell says, "you need some elbow room for." Just imagine 180,000 people around the world, singing it together. Here in Illinois, we were singing along with women in Canada, in Guam, in South Africa, in prison--all around the globe. A little foretaste of heaven. It's one of those where, if I can't sing along with this, the rocks are going to cry out!

I've already blocked next July when Living Proof will be in Moline, IL!

Fall Still Lifes

2011-09-06T09:58:00.012-05:00

Usually we are in Memphis over Labor Day weekend, but this year we stayed home and actually labored. Darren worked on the yard, and I worked on fall cleaning inside the house. This also meant I got to do one of my favorite things, which is change all the little "still lifes" that I have scattered on various end tables, mantletops, etc. Believe me, I'm happiest doing this project when it is spring, but I can get behind fall, too.

I switched out a blue floral wreath with butterflies for this on the front door:

Got out the pumpkin sisters to go by the candlesticks on the dining room table:

This is the library table in the front hall. Now that I'm looking at them, these pictures I took are pretty crummy. Pretend they're blurry for artistic reasons.

This is the entryway table. You can't tell (because of my awesome photographic skills), but I swapped out books, such as Someset Maugham's The Painted Veil and C.S. Lewis's Letters to Children, for spookier fare, such as Charles Todd's Duty to the Dead and the classic by Shirley Jackson, The Haunting.

Autumn issues of Victoria magazine for the living room coffee table:

Fall flowers for an end table:

And here is the mantle. I exchanged my Midsummer Night's Dream teapot and some yellow chintz pieces for a more fall-themed look. Then I went upstairs and cleaned there for awhile. When I came back downstairs, there was a black cat sitting on the mantle along with the rest of the stuff. Apparently he felt we needed more of a Halloween look than I had originally designed. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of it because I made him get down.

On the coffee table of the room that is affectionately known as "The Little Room," "The Library," and most commonly, "Mom's Room," I put out this classic from Longfellow. I used to read this to Lucy when she was an infant. "Listen my children, and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere..." I wished I had a good illustrated copy of Irving's Legend of Sleepy Hollow to put out, but this will do for now. Notice the black cat's paw on the left. He is determind to be part of the decor.

Worn out from decorating with me, I find him here instead.

How about you? Do you decorate for fall? And would you like to borrow an authentic black cat?

Learning to Read

2011-08-30T11:51:00.005-05:00

Elaine has been dying to learn to read. So, we got out our trusty old copy of Dick and Jane: Fun Wherever We Are and began.

"Go. Go, go, go. Go, Jane. Go help Sally. Help Sally find Puff."

Elaine loves it and loves to climb up in the rocking chair with me and practice her reading (also, she pronounces "Puff" to rhyme with "roof," which is way too cute for me to correct her).

Then the other day, I saw her race by with her pink doll stroller--Yo-Yo seated in it with his ears back and his tail lashing from side to side.

"Mom!" she shouted over her shoulder. "It's just like I read in Dick & Jane! Animals DO love to ride in doll buggies!"

(Look how much he's enjoying it. Now whenever he hears the stroller rev up, he hightails it out of sight.)

Yesterday when I read the information in her school folder, the teacher said they were working on the words, "I am" this week and to please practice with them whenever we could. I immediately thought of Green Eggs and Ham, so last night we settled down to read that. I would read all the text, and Elaine would read whenever I pointed to the words "Sam-I-am."

"I will not eat them in a house," I read. "I will not eat them with a mouse. I will not eat them in a box. I will not eat them with a fox. I will not eat them on a train or in the rain..."

"He's rude," Elaine interrupted in an unconscious parody of me. "All he needs to say politely is, 'No, thank you. I don't care for any. Besides, I bet there are a lot of people who really do like green eggs and ham."

So in addition to newfound reading skills, she also appears to be putting critical thinking skills into practice.

Happy New Reader:

First Day of School 2011 Edition

2011-08-23T10:34:00.015-05:00

It's my annual back-to-school post. Lucy's first day of 3rd grade was yesterday. Her room theme is Route 66.

As always, we have muffins for breakfast on the first day of school, thanks to Betsy-Tacy. These are Kababayn muffins, recipe courtesy Tia Rome. Very good, or as my brother says, "Donuts in muffin form."
Miss Big Time Third Grader:
Today is Elaine's first day of kindergarten:
The annual backpack shots (Lucy's too cool to have a character backpack this year):
But kindergartners still love Hello Kitty:
New shoes, of course:
My first day of school today too--English 103, "Reading Literature and Writing Argument." Not quite as much fun as Grades 3 and K...
Dad and girls:
Elaine meets her kindgerten teacher at the door of the Rainforest Room (her coat hook has a picture of a monkey on it. She was only slightly disappointed that it wasn't a cat.)
The teacher read The Kissing Hand to everyone. After that, we said goodbye:

My baby goes to kindergarten:
Flashback 1974 (check out my rockin' threads as I stand in front of the radiator cover):

As is often the case, the flavor of the day is Bittersweet.

What's on my Fridge

2011-08-17T10:27:00.011-05:00

On my last post, my friend Sandy asked if I would post about what's hanging on my fridge. First off, I have to tell about Sandy. She's my friend who I met when I was thirteen and she was sixteen. I was a super-dork, and I thought she was so cool. We met at summer camp in Michigan, where I went every year from age 10 to 16 or 17. Anyway, we lost touch as people do, especially when one's from Illinois and one's from Ohio and your big connection was Miracle Camp (yup, that was its name). But...we found each other on facebook bazillions of years later in our 40s, so another yay for the Internet!

Here's what's weird about her request--this summer I actually wrote a mini-autobiography of myself as part of my class assignment, and it was all about what's on my fridge: how when I first got married it was completely clear, then I put on magnets from various places we travelled, then how I slowly added the photos that are there, then artwork from my eventual children, etc.

Right now there's no artwork on it because school hasn't started yet, but I took pictures of what else is there. This is for you, Sandy!

General overview:
In 2005, I heard the best missions sermon I've ever heard--and I've heard a lot--by a man named Paul Borthwick, entitled "Will You Give Jesus Your Lunch?" It was about how Christ fed the 5,000 with the little kid's lunch and how we think we have nothing to offer to the vast needs in the world when really it doesn't matter that we have next to nothing, what matters is that we place it in Jesus' hands and He does great things with it. So, in His hands you can place: 1) your past experiences, 2) your pain, and 3) your prayers. I had just heard that sermon when I read an article in the paper about AIDS orphans in South Africa and one girl in particular. For about 2 years, I did everything I could to provide her with some help. Unfortunately, it is really difficult to get aid to South Africa; however, I still pray for her regularly (she's on the right).

This is Miss Mango. Her story is here.

Here are our four Compassion daughters--from Ecuador, Bolivia, India, and the Philippines. Can I say too how Compassion International has revolutionized my prayer life? They sent me bookmarks with the girls' pictures that I keep in my Bible. On the back of the bookmarks are 31 things to pray for--one for each day of the month--things such as, "that she will always tell the truth," "that she will find joy in Jesus," "that she will hide God's Word in her heart" etc. Now, in addition to praying each request per day per girl, I pray the same thing for Darren, for Lucy and Elaine, and then for whomever else I'm praying for that day--friends, neighbors, colleagues, my pastor. Today I prayed for each "that they would make wise decisions."

I love these four girls so much. I race to the mailbox each day to see if there's a letter from one of them. Mary from India refers to herself as "your loving child." Dayana from Bolivia told me in her last letter how it is winter there and she has to wear warm clothes. Little Gleramil from the Philippines said, "I hope you will include me in your prayers that I will learn a lot about Jesus." And my dear Lizbet, 17, from Ecuador writes me the most and tells me how sad she is that her sister died but she is happy that she's in heaven, she wants to know if I'll have another baby, she sends me "kisses from the distance," and sends me "love from your best friend."

And lastly, we have our As Our Own girls. Within the last couple of weeks, two sisters--ages 12 & 13--and a 14-year-old were rescued.

I also have this magnet on my fridge, which is a great reminder to me as I pray for all these dear girls. Despite their dire conditions, they have hope and a bright future because nothing is impossible with God.

Here is a song I sing all the time to my little girls (and cry), but I also think of my adopted girls around the world whenever I hear it, too:

So, there you go--that's what's on my fridge!

What We've Done With Our Summer

2011-08-14T10:31:00.013-05:00

I had a whole post written in my head, a farewell to blogging and a thank you to all for reading (it sounded suspiciously similar to the acknowledgment page I have written for my unwritten, unpublished book). I was just so tired and flat and didn't have anything to say any more. I took all of July off from pretty much everything except being with family, going on vacation, reading mysteries, playing with my kids. I had lofty plans to watch all 15 hours of Bleak House, but instead I rerererererewatched all four seasons of thirtysomething.

Then I woke up and thought I might like to blog a little bit more. So I freshened up the look and changed the picture and the quote, and here I am.

One of the things we did a fair bit of this summer was cooking. Remember the garden we were going to try, thanks to Jamie Oliver, in spring? Well, it actually grew! A first for me. We were so completely chuffed with ourselves and sat around saying, "We.grow.our.own.food."

The first thing Elaine wanted to make was dessert. Here she is (and I can see how this is at the beginning of summer because her hair is a lot longer now) with her white chocolate-strawberry pie. Strawberries were the one item we planted that didn't grow, so these we bought at the store.

Here is Lucy with a lemon icebox pie. This is my mother-in-law's classic recipe.

One of our crops that came in wonderfully was leaf lettuce. This picture also shows how early this was in summer because if you look at our garden now, it's been overtaken by an attack of the killer tomatoes and the Rocky Horror Picture Show cucumbers.

Elaine made Asian lettuce wraps--that was a summer favorite. We made our own peanut sauce to go with them.

Lucy learned to make the classic spaghetti and meatballs and salad dinner--she used our homegrown basil in the spaghetti sauce.

We've also eaten a lot of cucumber sandwiches. I think I may plant fewer cucumbers next year.

We went on our annual beach vacation to Door County in July. We escaped the 100+ degree temperatures at home to this...

As usual, I did nothing, absolutely nothing, and it was everything I thought it would be.

Darren and Elaine, looking for fish...

Here's another growth project--I bought a big plastic shaker of zinnia seeds, fertilizer, and weed killer mixed together and sprinkled it all over a former weed patch at the side of house. I figured it couldn't get any worse, so why not give it a whirl. Darren faithfully watered it, and...ta da!

We've also done a lot of swimming and reading. We've gone to the pool twice a week and the splash park and the library and Magic Waters. In fact, the girls joined the summer reading program at the library and when they achieved their goal, they each got a free pass to Magic Waters, which is great because I refuse to pay the exorbitant ticket prices and fight all those crowds of people. The park was closed for one warm Friday evening for a party of all library people. "So, it's Nerd Night?" Darren asked. Whatever. We prefer to be known as "patrons." And we had a blast.

We also did some redecorating at our house, and maybe sometime I'll post before and after pictures.

The girls did loads of fighting, too, until finally Darren and I got completely fed up and we had a family war council. I declared to them, "Behold, your sister--and the summer you learned to love her." For awhile, the three of us would meet in their room every morning for "Sister Time." They each had to say one thing they really like about their sister--whether it was something nice she had done or something about her character. Then they could say one thing they wanted their sister to work on that day (e.g., "Stop brushing my doll's hair without asking.") Then they had (the privilege!) to pray for each other. I won't say it made everything awesome, but it did improve.

They were also serial VBS attenders and played a lot with their friends.

Oh, and this is what Yo-Yo and Tuppence did this summer.

I hope yours has been equally as productive and fun!

Summer Adventure

2011-07-05T10:32:00.017-05:00

This past winter maybe you'll recall (or not) that we read the book The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone--the adventure/mystery set in the Art Institute of Chicago's Thorne Rooms. I was recommending it left and right to people, and our friends Alysa & Maddie and Jamie & Marybeth decided to read it, too.

Here you can find Alysa and Maddie's trip to the rooms (note: Alysa = professional photographer).

Last Friday, Jamie and Marybeth and my girls and I took our trip to the Thorne Rooms.

"Mom, will we find the magic key there?" Elaine asked before we left.

We got there right before the museum opened. Here are Marybeth, Lucy, and Elaine out front, holding their copy of the book (note: Alice = extremely amateur photographer).

We entered the museum and went to the basement where the Thorne Rooms are located. Before we walked in, I overheard Marybeth say, "I'm going to remember this day forever."

The very first room (E1) is where Christina of Milan's magic book is located as well as the suit of armor Jack tried on. You can see the book on the table. This room is on the cover art of the book.

The suits of armor are alongside the fireplace.

Here is a French drawing room where Jack and Ruthie met Sophie, and you can see Sophie's diary on this desk.

The most fun part of this day for me was watching the girls run from room to room, squealing to us and each other, "Here's the balcony where Jack and Ruthie went down into Paris!" or "Come and see where they met Thomas and dodged the arrows!" "Look, here's the ship in the bottle!"etc.

In fact, they had such a great time that other museum visitors noticed what they were doing and wanted to know about the book, so Jamie did her part in passing the word. We met one family there who also had read The Sixty-Eight Rooms.

Sometimes we had to consult the text to find out where a certain scene was located.

Here is the French bedroom Ruthie got to sleep in.

I also took a couple shots of my personal favorite rooms.

A French bathroom:

A 1930s London drawing room:

Jamie's favorite was a German sitting room overlooking a lake, but unfortunately I didn't get a picture of that one.

The final room we looked at (though we went through them all twice) was the Japanese room where Jack and Ruthie hid the note in the bento box.

We had a fabuous visit, and Lucy told me, "When the sequel comes out [Stealing Magic, which will be released next January and takes Jack and Ruthie from 1937 Paris to antebellum South Carolina], we'll just have to come back!"

Do Everything

2011-06-29T10:37:00.003-05:00

This is my new favorite song for this summer. It is hitting me right where I live (plus, it's really fun to sing, too!) The album will be out in August.

Here's Steven Curtis Chapman, telling about the inspiration for the song:

And here's the song (it's so new that there aren't many videos of it on youtube yet). I think you should turn it up loud, too, of course.

Hey! It's My Birthday!

2011-06-24T07:00:00.002-05:00

I'm 42 today. I kind of skipped my birthday last year, but that is NOT happening again. My pastor did this cool thing on his birthday where he wrote a corresponding number of things he is thankful vis a vis how old he is. I'm gonna do that, too. Some are huge, some are small, some are serious, some are silly. And they certainly aren't in any order, and I also know I've got way more than 42 things for which to be thankful. Anyway, here goes.

1. Right now in my quiet time, I'm reading Warren Wiersbe's Jesus in the Present Tense. I'm thankful that Jesus is everything to me, and He never changes.

2. Darren. He's an awesome husband and father. He never says that he wanted a son. He patiently reads Nancy Drew books to the girls at bedtime. The only thing he doesn't do is fix hair.

3. My firstborn, Lucy--who, multiple times a day, throws her arms around me and says, "I love you, Mom!"

4. My spunky monkey baby, Elaine--who gives me bear hugs and cat kisses. She's kind of like a friendly dragon who just wants to say hi but ends up catching your braids on fire.

5. PG Tips tea.

6. My dishwasher.

7. Sunglasses.

8. My job--I get to talk to a captive audience about books and writing. It doesn't get better.

9. PBS--home of Masterpiece Theatre.

10. Peacocks--the most beautiful bird in the world and robins--the most cheerful bird in the world. Really, I'm thankful for birds in general. Except crows.

11. Vintage shops and courtyard gardens.

12. My two cats--Yo-Yo and Tuppence. Love those pets.

13. Lipstick.

14. Lizbet Denisse--our lovely Compassion International 17-year-old in Ecuador.

15. Mary--our beautiful Compassion 11-year-old in India.

16. Gleramil--our darling Compassion 9-year-old in the Philippines. These three girls are our extra daughters, and I love hearing my little girls pray for their "sisters" each day.

17. My crockpot.

18. My favorite stores, "the T's": TJ Maxx and Target.

19. Libraries.

20. The incredible array of Bible studies there are out there for me to do: Beth Moore. Kelly Minter. Kay Arthur. Priscilla Shirer. Anne Graham Lotz. God's Word is like a garden or like deep-sea diving (not that I've ever done that, but...)--the more you look, the more treasures you discover.

21. Flip-flops. The ultimate in footwear.

22. Ebay.

23. Cadbury caramel eggs.

24. So many good mystery novels.

25. The awesome school where my kids go.

26. The best friends in the whole world. I've still got friends I made in pre-school, grade school, high school, summer camp, college, grad school, and each job I've worked and church I've attended, and friends I keep making, including online. Plus, and here's the key thing: my friends are nice. Some people are all, "My friends are so honest! Iron sharpens iron, you know." Whatever. My friends all have the good sense to tell me what I want to hear. Can't beat that. (I'm being slightly tongue-in-cheek; I know, Proverbs and all that. Still. They're super nice.)

27. My bed.

28. Victoria magazine--a little piece of serenity that drops in my mailbox every other month.

29. Allrecipes.com.

30. My Swiffer and Lysol wipes.

31. Church. Currently we attend the Red Brick Church, and I am so thankful for it. But over the years I've attended any number of churches I've loved and that have served as bricks in my character. Wheaton Bible Church. College Church of Wheaton. Chicago Fellowship of Friends. Calvary Memorial Church of Oak Park.

32. Cool Whip.

33. Door County, WI.

34. As Our Own. Right now as my wallpaper, I have a picture from As Our Own of a group of little girls, coloring. It makes me smile every time I see it--that these tiny little ones were rescued from prostitution and are now coloring out of Hello Kitty coloring books, just as little girls should.

35. Lilacs.

36. Monical's pizza, even though you have to go downstate to get it.

37. My extended family--dad, brother, sister-in-law; a great in-law family; and cousins who are like extra siblings.

38. Netflix.

39. The Art Institute of Chicago. My happy place.

40. Keats' House. My other happy place (not that I'm there often, but still).

41. K-Love radio. We took the 30-day challenge in January and have been listening ever since. It has made a noticeable difference in our family.

42. I'm at 42 already?! I could keep going. I am thankful for this truth I discovered in my 42nd year--that when I am going through trials, Jesus prays for me. Blows my mind. Jesus Himself prays for me. I can't get over it.

So, happy birthday to me, I guess! If you are in my neighborhood, stop by and have a piece of cake. Otherwise, I will eat it all myself. Also, here is the song that is really speaking to me right now, on my birthday and this year:

Father's Day 2011

2011-06-19T20:18:00.014-05:00

This year, the girls and I decided we wanted to make something special for Father's Day. We saw this picture in Family Fun magazine: a mosaic birdbath.

What better gift for a dad who loves birds? Last week, we headed to Michael's and Lowe's to pick up supplies. We also decided that a birdbath for Daddy was not enough. We also needed a birdbath for PaPa, Packa, and Tio.

The fun part was setting out the designs and glueing the mosaic pieces.

Let me reiterate: That was the fun part.

The not fun part was grouting not one, but four, mosaic birdbaths. It was too difficult for the girls, so I did all the grouting. With a toothpick and a Q-tip. Did I mention it was not fun? I lost most of my sanctification in the process. But I did it.

Then after letting it cure for 48 hours, I put the sealant on them. Darren, Lucy, and Elaine took PaPa his birdbath on Friday.

On Sunday, we had lunch at our house for Packa, Tio, and Tia.
Here is Tio's finished birdbath. It does not look like the magazine picture. But it was made with lots of love. The girls chose sea glass and shells for it because Tio loves the outdoors. They also chose a flat rock for the center because he loves to skip rocks. You probably can't tell from the picture, but they spelled "Tio" in colored stones, too.

Here is Packa's. His has a sun in the middle and a cross of blue stones. I like the bright colors on this one.

Here's a side view:

And here is Daddy's. His is made with a different style of pot/saucer since, in Lucy's words, "We need something extra special for Dad."

For lunch we had pork steak, potato salad, fruit salad, Mrs. Fischer's potato chips (Darren's favorite), ice cream pie, key lime bars, chocolate chip cookies, and Arnold Palmer to drink (ice tea/lemonade for those who aren't familiar).

It was a great day to celebrate a wonderful grandpa...

a wonderful uncle...

...and a wonderful Daddy!
Happy Father's Day to all!

Riding on the Clouds

2011-06-17T10:46:00.005-05:00

One of my favorite songwriters and worship leaders, Robin Mark from northern Ireland, wrote a song about 15 years ago called "Days of Elijah." This is the song that is most requested in our car--with the girls getting out their pretend microphones, clapping, doing the hand motions, singing, and generally going bananamonkey over. And it has to be repeated at least three times, if not more. This is the song that every Sunday, Lucy and I scan the church bulletin to see if we're singing, then high five each other if we are. I've been known to take Elaine out of the nursery so she could come in and sing with us.

Robin says the idea for the song came after watching a year in review on TV--conflict in Ireland, genocide in Rwanda--and wondering what kind of days we are living in and if God is still in control. As an answer, God gave him "Days of Elijah," which he wrote in 30 minutes.

The first verse says:

These are the days of Elijah
declaring the word of the Lord
These are the days of your servant, Moses
righteousness being restored
And though these are days of great trial
of famine and darkness and sword
Still we are the voice in the desert, crying,
"Prepare ye the way of the Lord!"

And the chorus is:

Behold, He comes!
Riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun
At the trumpet call
Lift your voice!
It's the year of jubilee
And out of Zion's hill salvation comes!

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my mom's death. We all drove out the two hours to the cemetery in Wisconsin. It's a small, quiet, sweet cemetery, filled with all sorts of my ancestors and relatives, along with their friends and neighbors.

The day was almost an exact carbon copy of one year ago--sunny, warm, blue skies with puffy white clouds. Last year we stood under the canopy provided by the funeral home and gathered around my mom's casket. It was just our family, and we said a few words and sang a song or two. All the while we stood there, I didn't cry, I just kept thinking, "She's not here. She's not here." I couldn't bear to think of doing the regular tradition of throwing a handful of dirt on the coffin, so the girls and I scattered handfuls of rose petals over it instead, and as I scattered mine, I whispered: "Mama: released!"

Yesterday was much the same, though there was no tent or hearse or casket, just grass and trees and sunshine and quiet and peace. We put down flowers on Mom's gravestone, which now says "June 16, 2010" on it. Dad said, "I know these flowers won't last a day, but your mother wouldn't like anything but the real thing," and I said, "Exactly. I can hear her voice saying, 'Please don't put any artificial flowers on my grave. It's tacky!'"

We all stood around for a bit, and Dad read a short letter. Instead of putting down small white stones as is the custom for the first year, we laid white seashells on her tombstone since she loved the beach and collecting shells. As we left, with the wind rustling the grass and blowing the trees and the June cottonwood swirling around us like summer flurries, I kept hearing "She's not here. She's not here."

The girls and I walked around the cemetery for a little bit, looking at Civil War veterans and WWI and II veterans, mothers who died young, grandmas who lived into their 90s, unnamed infants, and 4-year-old children.

Lucy said, "Mom, it's hard for me to imagine how Manga's up there, with just her spirit, but not her body."

"Me too," I told her. "But when Jesus comes back, then our souls will be reunited with our bodies again."

"And we'll come busting up out of these graves!" Elaine added excitedly, hopping over a stone.

Over the past year, I will admit--I've had a hard time picturing my mom where she is now, in heaven. What is she doing? What is she thinking? Can she see us? Does she know what we're doing down here? Does she miss us?"

I have a much easier time picturing her as she was, washing up after dinner or buried in a book. I look out our guestroom window and hope to see her car in the driveway, or I open up the closet door, see her coat and purse hanging there, and imagine for a moment that she's just in the next room. I can hear her say, "Let's put the kettle on and have a cup of tea." I can picture her that way much more than as some celestial-type of being now. And I miss her. Oh, I miss her. She's not here.

However, I have no problem, especially when I'm listening to "Days of Elijah," imagining that trumpet sound and one day seeing Jesus, riding on the clouds, shining like the sun, returning in glory and getting ready to bust us out of those graves. For though I have not seen Him, I love Him, I trust Him, and I'm filled with "a glorious, inexpressible joy."

Somehow, I think that's just how my mom would want it anyhow.

Summer Movie

2011-06-13T12:15:00.001-05:00

I am so excited about this; I can't wait until August.

I still stand by the statement I made two years ago when I wrote about the book--it's the best one I've read in the last five years. And seriously--Allison Janney's in the movie? I will be there on opening day.

Lucy is 8!

2011-06-07T09:50:00.008-05:00

Eight years ago today, we got in the car at 5:00 a.m. and drove to the hospital in dense fog (stopping at Dunkin Donuts for Darren's coffee first). By the time we got there, the sun was rising, the fog was disappearing, and it was going to be a beautiful June day in the Midwest.

I was scheduled for an induction, but before they got started, my water broke right there at the hospital, which I thought was pretty considerate of my baby to do. That ushered in several hours of the most intense pain and nausea I have ever known or hope to know, until finally an angel disguised in green scrubs came with a great big needle for my spine.

"Hi, I'm Tim," he said as he jabbed me. "This pain is going to go away in just a few minutes," he added as he helped me lie back down.

"If this baby's a boy, I promise I'm naming him 'Tim'" I told him and fell asleep for the next few hours.

Somewhere in there, I think every member of the hospital staff, including the gift shop employees came to "check my progress" if you know what I mean and I think that you do, until at 4:00 in the afternoon my doctor came in and told me it was time to get to work.

And at 5:20 p.m. on Saturday, June 7, 2003, there was this:

My first born baby girl, Lucy Nan.

Here she is, less than 24 hours old with her godmother, Aunt Jennie:

And here we are at home, on Tuesday. How do I know it's Tuesday? My sister-in-law Denise gave me the cutest baby shower gift--a sleeper with The Hungry Caterpillar all over it, plus Hungry Caterpillar bibs for every day of the week (you know, "On Tuesday, he ate two strawberries...but he was still hungry). Anyway, being the new, first-time mom that I was, I made sure every time she wore the bibs that they were on the proper, matching day of the week.

Here is Darren with his new daughter. Oh, and our dog Gatsby, who I found as a stray in our yard a few months earlier. He was a wonderful dog. I know he's waiting for me at the door of my mansion in heaven.

OK, back to Darren and Lucy. Look how tiny she is!

And now it's eight years later, and I've got my grown up Lucy who wants roller skates and yellow hightops for her birthday. She loves to write in her journal, will do arts and crafts projects for hours on end, and reads Geronimo Stilton books and laughs out loud at them. She's a swimmer whose goal this summer is to beat all the boys on her team. Her favorite show is "Fetch!" on PBS--it's a game show where kids race to research different topics. She adores butterflies and peace signs, is growing her hair long for Locks of Love, and can't wait for summer to be over so she can start third grade.

For as long as I can remember, she's said she wants to be a cook when she grows up, but the girl is a born teacher for sure. Her teacher this year thinks so, too. I told Lucy the other day, "I know you always say you want to be a cook, but, man, Lucy, you would make an awesome second grade teacher! You are creative, you love learning, and you love people."

"Really?" she asked me. "A teacher?" Then she thought dreamily for a minute and said, "You know what I'd do for my classroom? I'd have an under-the-sea theme."

See what I mean?

This morning she's at VBS, and then just she and I are going out to lunch at her favorite Chinese restaurant. This afternoon we're going to have a cupcake party--just our family--and she'll open her presents. Then she and Elaine are going to watch "Tangled," which is Elaine's present to her and that she could not wait until later to give her so Lucy opened it at breakfast. Darren's going to take them out for supper and maybe to pick out an inexpensive MP3 player that Lucy is planning to spend any birthday money she gets on. (My baby is buying an MP3 player! I can't take it in.)

So, happy birthday to my darling, big-hearted, easy-going, always-smiling, loving, caring 8-year-old girl. I love you, Lucy!

Let's Light It Up!

2011-05-31T08:30:00.003-05:00

My baby, Media Writing and Techniques, is being born today. Well, tonight at 6:00 to be precise. I have no idea how many hours I have poured into this baby since December, but now I'm ready to go live. I'm teaching it at one campus, and my boss is teaching it at the other campus simultaneously, so, you know, no pressure there.

Tonight we're studying the basics of writing for media; tone, clarity, and bias (including logical fallacies); and spending a significant portion on media ethics.

The quote for the first night is (all sessions have an E.B. White quote): “I can only assume that your editorial writer tripped over the First Amendment and thought it was the office cat.”

The devotions for tonight (it's a Christian university, so we do a 10-minute devotional at the beginning of class. I've NEVER gotten to do this before!) are: God's Word is Alive and Active in Me, from Hebrews 4:12 "For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."

Because it's a media class, of course I'll be showing a lot of various clips of things. I get to show one of my all-time favorites tonight. For some weird reason, it won't let me embed, so you can see it here (it's only 1 1/2 minutes). As Jennie knows, one of the main reasons to teach is so you can share as many Office UK and West Wing clips as possible.

I've got eight students and four hours. I feel a little bit like right before my actual babies were born--nervous yet excited. Right now the trickiest part is separating my head from my Thursday night literature class. Hopefully I'll keep everything straight and not start tossing in facts and quotes from Oscar Wilde. Though a quote from Oscar Wilde could only improve the tone of well, anything.

Let's light this thing up!

Last Day

2011-05-30T13:09:00.004-05:00

Last Wednesday was Elaine's last day of Pre-K 4. I can't believe it. Last summer I spent a fair bit of time, working with her on Kipper's Big Alphabet Book and by the end of the summer she still had no idea what any letter or number was. I could show her A fifty times in a row...nothing.

Enter Mrs. H., her pre-K 4 teacher. By the end of this school year, Elaine knows her entire alphabet, capital and lowercase letters. She can spell basic words. She can count to at least 50. And those are just the little things. She has learned and grown so much. She knows about weather and bugs and money. (She can sing a song to the tune of "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" that goes "Head, Thorax, Abdomen.") She knows about shells and shapes, pumpkins and penguins. She also knows many Bible verses by heart.

So here Elaine is on Wednesday, saying goodbye to the best pre-K 4 teacher in the world. Mrs. H. read a story about a teacher with a garden (her room is garden-themed) who got a packet of seeds from the principal in the fall. She planted and watered and tended her garden all year long and now the beautiful flowers have grown and are ready to grow. Now it's time for her to put away her tools for awhile until next fall when the principal comes down the hall with a new packet of seeds. She cried while she read it, and I teared up to because I have no more little girls to send to Mrs. H. for tending and growing.

They had all made a big memory book with pictures and journals from their year. (In the previous picture, Elaine is holding Buzzy, the class mascot. Instead of Circle Time, they have Buzzy Time. You're allowed to speak only if you're the one holding Buzzy.)

Even Mrs. H. commented as Elaine said goodbye on how much progress she had made this year. So now...she's ready for kindergarten in the fall.

On Thursday, Lucy had her last day of school. This girl did not have one bad day this year. Not one. Every single day when I would pick her up, I would ask "How was second grade today?" and she would fall back in her seat with a big sigh and say, "AWESOME."

Her teacher, Mrs. S., hugged her goodbye and told her she loved her. We walked to our car, and Lucy kept her head down. I could tell she wasn't feeling great, but before we even got to the parking lot she had burst into tears.

"I don't want to end second grade, Mom," she wailed. "I don't want to not see Mrs. S. every day anymore!"

I reported this later to my brother, and we both just looked at each other. "I know," I told him. "BIZARRE. I don't get it either."

That is a testament to their school--they'd rather go there than have summer vacation. Go figure.

But now it is summer, and I started by getting out a fresh, new, little notebook and writing down a daily plan of what we're going to do. I have a whole drawer full of little notebooks that my mom wrote similar plans for summers long past in. It makes me happy to know there's continuity even if it all falls apart and I'm tearing my hair out by August, at least I started out with a plan.

One of our main rules is almost no computer time, so I'm wrapping this up and getting back to our scheduled summer activities. As I type this, Elaine is sitting next to me, pen in hand, writing her numbers in a notebook and playing dot-to-dot. Can't wait to see what kindergarten brings this girl!

unTangled

2011-05-24T08:14:00.006-05:00

This is a summary of how we all felt after this weekend. In the interest of full disclosure, shortly before I took this picture, I was right there in the bed with them.

This weekend I went to Living Proof Live while Darren and the girls hung out at a hotel and swam 8+ hours per day. I've pretty much been looking forward to this weekend more than Christmas. I'm not sure I've had a time in my life when I have felt more pulled, torn, weighted down, I don't even know what.

The first night of the conference opened with a video montage of these verses: Psalm 116:1-7 "I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live. The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came upon me; I was overcome by trouble and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: 'O LORD, save me!' The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you."

Then it ended with this photo (except with "un" in front of the title):
The next morning, the same montage was shown again at the beginning, except with these verses: Hebrews 12:1-2 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

When I saw that I knew, as Beth said, that God Himself had invited each of us personally to this event. Between Friday and Saturday there were probably 4-5 hours of speaking and 2-3 hours of worship (interspersed), so I will boil it down to the main points Beth had. There wasn't one that did not apply to me personally:

1) God can untangle us when life's about to kill us.
2) God can untangle us when we're tangled up inside.
3) God can untangle us when our motives are in tangles.
4) The Cross has already cut the ropes of entangling sin.
5) Those untangled once can be well tangled again.
6) A grudge can entangle us where we need untangled most.
7) If destruction fails to entangle us, distraction will do its best.
8) God can make a mighty soldier out of anyone willing to get untangled.
9) Whatever tries to tangle with us, tangles with God!

Each point was supported with multiple Scriptures (I had no idea there were so many verses either using the English or the Greek/Hebrew for "entangled"). My absolute favorite part was point 8: God can make a mighty soldier out of anyone willing to get untangled. This was based on 2 Timothy 2:1-4 "Timothy, my dear son, be strong through the grace that God gives you in Christ Jesus. You have heard me teach things that have been confirmed by many reliable witnesses. Now teach these truths to other trustworthy people who will be able to pass them on to others. Endure suffering along with me, as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. Soldiers don’t get tangled up in the affairs of civilian life, for then they cannot please the officer who enlisted them."

Then she showed us 1 Peter 3:3 "Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel—" The term "arranging" there in the Greek is "empleko," which is the same word used in the 2 Timothy reference "tangled up." It has the inference of intertwining. So Beth called two ladies out of the audience up on stage and did their hair. She had the brushes and the clips and everything. She said she's always wanted to be a hairdresser and have Ms. Beth's House of Hair. The first woman she braided her hair. The second woman she gave a high ponytail (not without a bit of teasing and back-combing first).

In the midst of everyone laughing and cheering, she turned them around so we could see their new hairstyles--then showed us how we can't take godliness and worldliness and braid them together and wear them in our life. To be a good soldier, we need everything pulled back into one God-ponytail. It was so fantastic (though when I tried to explain this awesome illustration and truth to Darren afterwards, he said, "Could this be done using power tools instead?" Definitely a girl thing.)
We closed on Saturday afternoon with a commissioning out of Hebrews 12: 1-2 and a final segment of worship. When we got there Friday night, Beth told us that the purpose of this weekend was not to go away and say, "I'm going to try and be a better Christian," rather to get to the heart of all our various entanglements, gain some clarity, begin to throw them off, fix our eyes on Jesus, and keep running that race.

At the ending, Travis and the worship team cranked up with this one, and if they hadn't, I think I would have had to just do it myself:

All in all, more than I could have even hoped for in this weekend. I feel energized and ready to throw off some entanglements. And throw in a nap here and there, too.

Things Fall Apart...and are put back together

2011-05-16T09:47:00.004-05:00

I just finished spring semester at community college, and on May 31 I'll be starting my university class that I call "my baby" as in "my baby is being born on May 31." More on that later, but it's a class I'll not only be teaching for the first time, but I also wrote the curriculum for it.

A week or so ago, while I was putting the finishing touches on that class, I got an email from the university saying that they didn't have anyone to teach a class called "Literature, Life, & Ideas," and would I be interested and oh also, it starts May 19? I think you can pretty much guess what my answer was.

Now I'm furiously preparing for Literature, Life, and Ideas, and the first book I will be teaching this Thursday is Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart. And of course during this time, the girls have myriad end-of-the-year activities that I have to prepare them for, then my dad both moved and wound up in intensive care. So in the midst of going back and forth to the hospital and baking treats for Lucy's class and making sure Elaine is dressed as a cat for the Pre-K 4 alphabet parade, I'm running around the world, screeching, "I have to know everything there is to know about Things Fall Apart!" And no, the poetic irony of that title does not escape me.

There is so much I could say about Things Fall Apart--which is a great book and you should read it. It's essentially the story of an African man within a tribe in Nigeria in the late 1800s whose world falls apart with the arrival of white missionaries. The two missionaries (aptly named Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown) pretty much embody all the ugly stereotypes of missionaries and imperialists.

A big part of my job at this particular university, since it's a Christian one, is to teach the students how to respond to...whatever--literature, media, etc.--as a follower of Jesus should. I have a great respect for Mr. Achebe's work and opinion, and I'm not even saying I disagree with it. A lot of ugly things have been done in the name of Christ and through mission work.

My undergraduate degree is actually in missions, so I hope I can bring some of that to the discussion on Thursday. I've had about a thousand thoughts swirling in my head over this book, recent events, and recent conversations I've had, and I hope to sort through a little of that here.

A few years ago, Darren and I read Randy Alcorn's The Treasure Principle together. It's a short, little book that contains 6 keys:
1) God owns everything. I am His money manager.
2) My heart always goes where I put God's money.
3) Heaven, not Earth, is my home.
4) I should live not for the dot but for the line. (Dot is here and now, line is eternity).
5) Giving is the only antidote to materialism.
6) God prospers me not to raise my standard of living, but to raise my standard of giving.

I think that was a starting point for us to both live and think differently. As we have gone through various financial struggles personally and along with the rest of the U.S. (here in our city, gas was $4.25 a gallon last week. In the suburbs, it was $4.45) there is one underlying truth that I keep learning over and over: We are so rich.

My brother and his wife just returned from visiting her family in the Philippines. They stayed with her family, who own farms and a school, and also at a resort, but the poverty in that country is staggering. As my brother says, "You realize that when Jesus talked about 'the rich man' He really means us."

One organization we have both been involved with for many years is Compassion International. I love this organization for so many reasons, but one of the main ones is that it is not the white people swooping in and imposing their culture and ideas, but is rather an indigenous work.

Darren and I began supporting a little girl in Ecuador a few years after we got married. I think she was 5 when we began sponsoring, now she is 17. Her name is Lizbet. And a few weeks ago, we decided as a family, to sponsor a little girl in the Philippines. Her name is Gleramil. We loved looking through all the pictures and stories on the Compassion site.

We picked Gleramil because she is 8 years old, like Lucy will be in a few weeks, and also because we have a resident Filipina in our family who can give us all sorts of inside scoop. Oh and also because in Gleramil's picture she had ponytails, and Elaine said, "I like that little girl's ponytails."

Last week, we got our first letter from Gleramil's mom. A huge part of Compassion sponsorship is correspondence. As part of their blog community, they encourage us to write letters to our kids every second Friday. The kids can write as often as they want, but they are required to write to us 3-4 times per year, which the center where they attend helps them with.

In this letter we got to find out the names of Gleramil's parents and her siblings (we showed the letter to Chuck and Rome, and I said "Check it out; all the kids' names are combos of the parents' names." They laughed and said that is the Filipino way. Rome and her siblings are all combo names. She got lucky with a pretty name. Some of them...not so much.)

We got to find out Gleramil's favorite color, that she likes to play hide-and-seek, and that her favorite food is chicken joy (that is fried chicken from a popular fast food place called Jolly B--like how American kids like Chicken McNuggets. Rome said, "They serve it with rice," and Chuck said, "Yeah, surprise, surprise.")

Her mom wrote to us: "I am so happy and I am very thankful to you and to God that my child has a sponsor and I'm also thankful she was able to join Compassion. This is a great help to her studies and to us, her parents."

In the area where they live, most adults are unemployed. Those that are employed as day-laborers make an average of $55. A month.

We pray for these kids each day and keep their pictures on our refrigerator, but it's not just us, making a difference in their lives. They are making a huge difference in ours. We have some money we can share, but they give us love and friendship and perspective and prayer. Besides praying for them every day, I ask our adopted girls to pray for their sponsor mom and dad and sisters. We need it.

At our former church, we used to say the Apostles' Creed together every Sunday. I love all the words of that, but especially, "I believe in the holy, catholic church...the communion of saints." When we do missions in a human way, things fall apart. But when we let Jesus have His church, the universal church without walls or borders, it can be a little taste of what eternity will be like.

I will leave you with two things that have rocked my world this last week (also, I would say I spend waaaaay too much time on the Compassion site, but it is so worth it). The first is a blog post you can find here, one of my top 5 favorite blog posts ever. The second is a video you can find here. I just want to give you a glimpse of how things can be and hopefully lift your heart. Advisory (learned from experience): go grab a kleenex before you start reading and/or watching.

Oh, one last thing: Compassion puts together yearly trips where sponsors can visit various countries and meet their kids. I don't know if that dream will ever come true for us, but this year's trip is to the Philippines! It begins May 29. A band of bloggers and a photographer always go on the trips, so they'll be live blogging while they're there. If you're interested, you can follow it here. I wonder if they will meet our girl?

Both Sides of the Story

2011-05-10T13:07:00.001-05:00

Here is an article I wrote recently.

For Mother's Day 2011

2011-05-04T19:27:00.024-05:00

(**All quotes taken from Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss.)

On the whole, there is nobody like one’s mother.

Other people will see your faults, but only your mother will have the courage to speak of them.

I do wonder if I shall ever really learn that Mother knows more than I do!

I realize that it is to her I owe that early, deep-seated longing to please the Lord Jesus, which I never remember as having a beginning or an ending, though it did have its fluctuations.

I don’t see how Mother can love me so, after the way I have behaved.

Dear Mother! She has gone now, where she always goes when she feels sad, straight to God. Of course she did not say so, but I know Mother.

Mother made no reply, except by a look which said about a hundred and forty different things.

I wonder if, after all, mothers are not the best friends there are!

Moral—Mothers occasionally know more than their daughters do.

I longed to have my children become old enough to fully appreciate her sanctified character.

I thought no human being was less selfish, more loving than she had been for many years, but the spirit that now took possession of her flowed into her heart and life directly from that great Heart of love, whose depths I had never even begun to sound.

It is a pleasant picture to see her with my little darlings about her, telling the old sweet story she told me so often and making God and Heaven and Christ such blissful realities.

The atmosphere in which we all lived was one which cannot be described; the love for all of us and for every living thing that flowed in Mother’s words and tones passed all knowledge.

My dear mother’s influence is always upon me. To her I owe the habit of flying to God in every emergency and of believing in prayer.

Surely the crown she has won by such a struggle must be brighter than the stars! And this crown she is, even now, while I sit here choked with tears, casting joyfully at the feet of her Savior!

My steadfast aim now is to follow in my mother’s footsteps; to imitate her cheerfulness, her benevolence, her bright inspiring ways, and never to rest till in place of my selfish nature I become as full of Christ’s love as she became.

I miss you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day! Heaven can't come soon enough now that you're there.

Lucy and Mom Day

2011-05-02T11:43:00.021-05:00

Earlier this year, both girls begged me for some personal "Mama Time" that they wouldn't have to share with their sister. They share a room and activities and lots of other things, so it's important to me that they get their own special time on their own with Mom and/or Dad.

However, work and the weather have been conspiring against us until this past weekend. I've been waiting a long time to take Lucy to this particular spot, and Saturday was the absolute perfect day to go to The Little Traveler in Geneva. Lucy had never been before and didn't know what to expect.

"I can't really describe it, but I promise you'll like it, " I told her.

We got there right about lunch time, so we headed to the Garden Cafe first.

As we got our Sierra Mists, Lucy lifted her glass, clinked it with mine, and said solemnly, "To Freedom!" (She kills me.)

The cute bathroom:

We visited almost all the rooms--candy shop, gourmet food shop, antiques, china/glassware, flower shop, the Christmas shop (a big hit especially with the many little villages there), the baby shop, stationery, jewelry, and hats.

We stopped at the toy shop twice and handled all the Madame Alexander dolls two or three times. There were Wizard of Oz dolls and Little Women dolls (complete with Amy's Paris wardrobe!), dolls from around the world, and, interestingly, Henry the VIII's wives dolls (with heads intact).

"Who's this one?" Lucy asked, picking up a black-haired doll with Renaissance-style jewelry.

"Lucretia Borgia," I read off the tag (I thought she was supposed to blond?). "She was a poisoner," I added.

"Like, she killed people with poison?" Lucy asked.

"Mmm-hmmm," I said.

She digested that historical tidbit for a moment. "Well, I really like her outfit," she said magnanimously.

We, of course, visited the tea shop, where we got an end-of-the-year gift for Lucy's teacher. They had a special Wedding blend (but it was decaffeinated aka pointless).

After we'd exhausted all the shops, we strolled around town, chatting, taking pictures, and enjoying one of the only nice days of spring we've had here in Illinois.

St Mark's...

Pretty houses and flowers...

Bluebells!

This was Lucy's favorite because it was both yellow and had a balcony, her dream house:

I liked this one, and it was for sale! though sadly out of my price range (actually, it's lower than I thought it would be--hard economic times and all). (Also, I'm realizing as I add this picture that it looks a lot like the house we already have. No wonder I like it.)

After our walk, we stopped by A Moveable Feast for dessert and ate it outside on a bench in the sunshine.

We drove home, and Lucy borrowed my phone so she could call Elaine and tell her all about it.

"Didn't we have the best day, Mom?" she sighed when we got home.

Yes, we certainly did!

(Watch for "Elaine and Mom Day" coming soon!)

The Long-Awaited Day

2011-04-29T10:17:00.017-05:00

Aunt Julie arriving yesterday evening. She drove up I-90 in her tiara.

We got up at 4:00 a.m. Coverage started at 3 here, but we figured we could easily look up the Queen's proclamation on what their titles would be online.

Slightly sleepy but excited:

Appropriate snacks and England's No. 1 tea:

Special wedding cookies sent by Julie's mom:

The sun is now up, and Yo-Yo is worn out from the festivities:

All week long I've endured people's snarky comments and FB status updates on what a silly waste of time this wedding is and how they don't care. I've bitten my tongue, even though most of them are the same people of whom I have to read their constant inane updates about overgrown, overpaid boys, playing incomprehensible sports games. Are there royal weddings every week? I think not. Hey, you--get off of my cloud.

On the radio the other day, they had people call in and say why they cared about the royal wedding and of course there were the women who said, "It's because every girl and woman wants to be a princess!"

Um, no.

It's because this is an historic event--seeing the future King William married in the same abbey where William the Conqueror was coronated.

It's also because, for whatever reason, since I've been a child this family has fascinated me. I got up while it was still nighttime 30 years ago to watch Diana and Charles's wedding. I watched the public announcement of William's birth. And of course I watched the heartbreaking ordeal of two teenage boys, walking down the streets of London behind their mother's coffin--with a little handwritten card, saying "Mummy" on their flowers for her.

I watched for the chance to see them all make that same procession but for a happier occasion today. As Julie said, "We needed to see him come through the streets, but happy now."

Finally, for all the naysayers, isn't it just nice for a change for the world to pause for a moment and watch something joyous rather than some hideous catastrophe?

And, of course, there was also this (breathtaking!):

Yay!

Congratulations to the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge!

Now back to your regularly-scheduled cynicism.

A Fallen Hero

2011-04-28T08:20:00.003-05:00

In the midst of tornadoes all over the South and lots of excitement (at our house anyway) about the royal wedding tomorrow, I woke up this morning to hear that one of my heroes, David Wilkerson, died in a car accident yesterday. He is the author of The Cross & the Switchblade, a book that greatly affected me, along with Run Baby Run, written by Nicky Cruz, and Second Chance by Israel Narvaez. Both Cruz and Narvaez were friends of David Wilkerson and some of his early converts.

According to his bio, David Wilkerson was an Assemblies of God preacher in a little country church, who left to minister to gang members on the streets of New York. His work there eventually grew into Teen Challenge, a ministry that is still thriving today. On their website, they say: "The family of Teen Challenge USA is immeasurably saddened today at the loss of our founder, Rev. David Wilkerson. Rev. Wilkerson was killed in a car accident in which his wife, Gwen, was also injured and is in serious condition. “Brother Dave” was used by God in 1958 to reach out to gang members in New York City. Through that singular act of obedience, tens of thousands of those bound by drug, alcohol and other addictions have found freedom through Jesus Christ–there are 233 centers in the US, and 1187 total worldwide, providing help to as many as 25,000 people needing deliverance through the power of God."

Though I never met him or heard him speak, I was greatly influenced by this man's life and ministry--he is a big part of why I went to Moody Bible Institute and hold a degree in Urban Ministries.

I'm thrilled he's in heaven now and pray for his wife and family. Here is David Wilkerson's last blog post, dated yesterday.

Lifted Up

2011-04-18T09:47:00.004-05:00

Last night I slept badly, I woke up early this morning without the aid of my alarm--fortunately, because I discovered also that it's broken--and I looked out the window this mid-April day to see grey skies and snow on the ground.

Add to that that this is the girls' spring break and I had hoped to do all sorts of fun things involving the outside with them, and it's supposed to be cold and rainy the whole time. Plus, I can't help but think of this time last year when everything started its downward spiral, and that fills me with anxiety, and combined with a bunch of other things, I just felt low and discouraged to start this Monday.

I wanted to log in to the Scripture memory site I'm in (memorizing one verse every two weeks) because I was a few days late in entering my verse for April 15. I got out my 3 x 5 card spiral where I write all my verses, and as I flipped them over to get to a fresh card, I found this little surprise:

If you can't read that photo, it says in Lucy's best, newly learned cursive:

"For my mom: I love you're [sic] verses! Keep up the good work! I love you! Do you love me? I know you'll say yes."

And my verse for this two weeks is:

Psalm 3:3 "But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."

For some reason, today that verse sounds a lot like me saying--For God: I love You! Do You love me? I know You'll say yes!"

Then on the way to work, I listened to this song. I listen to the version by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, but here's the original. By the time I got to the stoplight at Spring Brook and Alpine, I was doing my best caucasian interpretation of Calvin Hunt (soloist), no doubt noted by the policeman who pulled up next to me.

So, if you're feeling discouraged today, I hope this lifts your head like it lifts mine:

Beverly's Birthday

2011-04-12T09:35:00.005-05:00

Today is children's author Beverly Cleary's 95th birthday. Here is a nice article in the NY Times, profiling her.

I began to read Beverly's books as soon as I could read. My first was Ramona the Pest. Ramona's kindergarten room was just like mine; I grew up on Blanchard Street, which could have doubled for Klickitat Street, and my brother was kind of a dead ringer for Henry Huggins, a smaller, beleaguered boy with good ideas that didn't quite come through and a paper route.

I adored Beverly's pre-teen and teen books (so innocent! so funny!): Fifteen, The Luckiest Girl, Jean and Johnny, and my favorite, Sister of the Bride. I can remember standing at the library shelves, looking at the many, many Beverly Cleary titles and deciding which one I was going to read (or rerererereread).

I own many of them now, and my girls can't get enough of them either. Of course, they ARE Beezus and Ramona--Lucy, the smart, serious, long-suffering big sister, and Elaine, the pesky, vocal younger sister who thinks she's a cat in curlers. Recently when Lucy had to pick one of the 50 states to write about, she chose Oregon. When her teacher asked why, Lucy said, "Because that's where Beverly Cleary is from," (and added to me later: "Mrs. Shockey knows I'm all about the books, Mom.")

So far, I think their favorites are Mitch and Amy (loooove it) and one you don't hear of much, Emily's Runaway Imagination. That one is a little departure from the contemporary, middle class American dramas and is set at the beginning of the 20th century, but it is a hoot. The chapter where Emily gets the pigs drunk at the Ladies' Aid Society meeting is worth the price of the book. I also have to give a special shout-out to the 50th Anniversary audio version of Henry Huggins, read by Neil Patrick Harris, who is brilliant. He does all the voices, and no matter how many times I hear the chapter "The Green Christmas," I laugh out loud.

Despite how times have changed and the influx of junk there is out there for kids, I love how in the NY Times article, a librarian says she still can't keep Beverly's books on the shelves. She is an author whom I never have to pre-read before I read to my kids.

Happy 95th birthday, Beverly Cleary!

Which are your favs?

To Read and To Watch

2011-04-07T10:18:00.007-05:00

First off, I have become hopelessly addicted to these books. I have no control. I keep telling myself that I need to pace myself; I'll want some great mysteries to read for summer, but I keep going to the library and checking them out, three at a time, charging through them, then going back for three more. I highly recommend them, and, while I bet it would be nice to read them in order, it doesn't seem necessary.

Then, there is this coming up, beginning on Sunday night. I.am.so.pumped.

I was really little when the first Upstairs, Downstairs came on, but I've spent some of this winter trying to catch up via Netflix. It's an interesting exercise. The first episodes were shot in black and white, which was kind of distracting. It's all extremely low budget, and the actors seem to be overacting (and speaking extra loudly) as if they were on stage instead of on film. However, it is one of, if not, the most-loved Masterpiece series of all time. Over one billion people have seen it. That kind of blows my mind. So I am completely excited that they've decided on an updated version, yet still starring Jean Marsh and (the incomparable) Eileen Atkins, the original co-creators of the show. The script is written by Heidi Thomas who wrote my beloved "Cranford."

There's been a bit of competition between this and Downton Abbey, which has sort of a similar theme--the lives of the wealthy family upstairs and the servants downstairs. Jean Marsh got a bit squiffy about it in an interview, saying Downton is a poor imitation of Upstairs, Downstairs, so Hugh Bonneville (Lord Grantham from Downton) tweeted: "I thought Jean Marsh was bigger than that - running down Downton while bigging up Upstairs? Downton never downed Up when upping Down." Then Eileen Atkins volleyed back, "In the music hall, you have a warm-up act and then you have a star turn. I feel that Downton has been a fantastic warm-up." Whatever, I'm thrilled about them both and can't wait to watch the new Upstairs, Downstairs, which will be airing April 10, 17, and 24. You can read more about it here.

Lastly, we're going out on a limb this week and watching some network TV. (I basically have sworn off network TV for most of this past year, with the exception of one season of Dancing with the Stars solely because of this and this, which I am embarrassed of, but there you go.) But this Tuesday starts the second season of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. We didn't watch the first season where he went to Huntington, VA, which is the unhealthiest city in America, and helped revamp their school lunch program. In this second season, he's heading to Los Angeles. In the new issue of Better Homes and Gardens, they feature Jamie, some of his healthy, kid-friendly recipes, and an easy guide to planting your own small vegetable garden. Darren agreed to dig us the garden, and I ordered the seeds that Jamie said to (Darren said, "You know you can buy seeds at Farm-n-Fleet, Alice.") Jamie claims that anyone can grow vegetables, that if you just put a seed in the ground and give it water and sunlight, 8 1/2 times out of 10 it will grow. Those of you who know my plant-growing odds, I could certainly be in the 1 1/2 failure group, but the girls and I are going to give it a whirl. In fact, that's my blog plan for the summer--showing you a step-by-step of our garden plan and planting, any harvesting (I'm thinking positive!), and then our healthy cooking we'll be doing.

I told Lucy, "Food Revolution starts this Tuesday, and I'll let you stay up an extra hour to watch it. I will tell you that it's reality TV and Jamie Oliver is known to say inappropriate words, so we may end up not watching it and just seeing small clips and reading his articles."

Lucy said, "Inappropriate words like the s-word and the d-word?"

Me: "Um, I think sooooo" (frantically thinking, "how does she know the s-word and d-word already?") until she said softly, "You know, Mom: S-T-U-P-I-D and D-U-M-B."

Here's a clip of Food Revolution (I am all about the clips today!)

There you go--plenty to read and watch for this spring!

The Results Are In!

2011-04-01T16:04:00.004-05:00

I must say, I could do without another week like this one ever again. Sometime in the night on Sunday, I got sick. I taught my class on Monday morning, then came home and crawled back in bed, not to get out again until Wednesday night when I had promised to sub for a friend (both Wednesday AND Thursday nights).

I took my big jug of lemonade with me and took cautious sips the whole time. That and three Archway windmill cookies are what I've had to eat this week. "Mama threw up in the shower," Elaine helpfully reported to the rest of the family, so it's better this way. Right now I'm at the point where food seems like a nice concept that I'm sure I'll embrace again at some point in life, but...not today.

And in the midst of it all, Darren has been Mr. Mom (and doing a great job), and Lucy has been reading, reading, reading. This morning before school I tallied everything she'd done (and I know I've probably missed some things) over the last eight days, and here is the total:

2,009 pages!!

We are so proud of her. She did not win (humph!) individually in the second grade, but her class beat the other second grades out for the most pages read, so they do get either a pizza or ice cream party (see? That sounds kind of good...but not good enough to try it)--their choice.

Today was the big Read-a-thon assembly day where all the students and teachers dress up as book characters, and the prizes were awarded.

Here is our girl aka Nancy Drew. Now you know she did have absolutely the cutest costume:

Besides the magnifying glass (borrowed from my dad), she also had a small notebook marked "Clues," in which she wrote down what everyone else's costumes were so she could come home and tell me about it. She said that when the winning second grade was announced, her class screamed louder than any of the others in the school, their teacher included.

Lucy does get some other prizes, including a gift certificate to a mini-golf place and a free meal at Sonic, which...nope. Doesn't sound good yet.

So, that was Read-a-thon 2011, and she is already planning for reading domination next year, plus what costume she will wear.

Normally I'd have a celebration dinner for her, but...

A Challenge for You

2011-03-28T09:59:00.001-05:00

One of the many things I enjoy about having two girls is how completely different and unique they are. On Thursday and Friday, I went to their parent/teacher conferences. I spent about 25 minutes with each teacher, reviewing both Lucy and Elaine's work and the progress they've made this year. Each teacher had a lot to say about each girl, and I've devised a little quiz below. Your job is to select the correct girl for each teacher comment.

2011 Parent/Teacher Conference Quiz

1. She is bright and creative.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

2. She loves to write.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

3. She is strong in language arts.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

4. She could use some extra work in math.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

5. She is extremely social aka talks too much.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

6. She is easily distracted by others (and talking) and consequently is the last to finish her work.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

7. She chats at inappropriate times.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

8. She is very kind and loving.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

9. She is a friend to everyone.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

10. She needs to focus better.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

11. She is ready for third grade.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

12. She is ready for kindergarten.

a) Lucy
b) Elaine
c) Both

Answer Key
1-10: C
11: A
12: B

Honestly, except for the last two items I could have just gone to one conference.

Also? I love my girls.

Read-a-Thon 2011

2011-03-25T09:10:00.003-05:00

Yesterday when Lucy's teacher brought Lucy out to the car after school, they both hand-delivered me a packet. "It's the Read-a-Thon stuff, Mom!" said Lucy, and her teacher said, "Yes, and we're counting on Lucy, our class reader, to lead us to the victory pizza party!"

I flipped through the packet and saw that a pizza party was the least of our concerns. There were prize baskets, a weekend package to the Wisconsin Dells, a Nook (!!!), and other various gift certificates to be won. There were prizes for the best reader in a particular grade, readers who read over 500 pages, the best reader in the school, etc.

I turned the car toward the public library and began my sweet, motherly pep talk about just having fun and doing our best except it sounded a lot more like Coach Boone in Remember the Titans.

"Lucy, you are a great reader. If you focus, you have it in you to go all the way. You get your game face on, girl, and you beat the pants off everyone in the second grade!" She looked a little startled, and I stopped just short of saying if she fumbled the ball I'd break my foot off in her John Brown hindparts.

"You can WIN, Lucy!" chirped Elaine.

We discussed our strategy of reading at about her mid-level: absolutely no unfair advantage reading books that are too easy, but don't read at the very top of her level either because that would slow her down. So we headed into the library, and she loaded up on 10 books, with her ultimate goal being to read 1,000 pages in this 8-day Read-a-Thon.

I toned down the rhetoric slightly at the check-out. "You're gonna do a great job, Luce, and if you do your absolute best then everything else will fall into place. You just focus on getting Mama that e-reader, OK?"

She dived into her books last night, and today there is no school because of parent/teacher conferences. Here she is this morning:

Next Friday everyone goes to school dressed as a favorite character in a book, and the prizes are distributed. I will keep you posted.

A Purim Birthday

2011-03-21T16:12:00.018-05:00

This past Saturday we celebrated both Purim and a birthday, but they were completely unrelated to each other. In the morning we got up and listened to the story of Esther while we made hamantaschen together. Then we took some over to my dad's and had tea with him.

But before we left, a family member had a birthday that needed celebrating--his first, in fact. That would be Yo-Yo. I thought it would be cool if our Yo-Yo had the same birthday as the original Yo-Yo, but I googled his and it's in October.

We hugged our Yo-Yo and sang Happy Birthday (cha cha cha) to him and gave him a lovely bowl of tuna. He seemed to take his big day in stride. He is quite the sweetest cat ever. I call him "the golden retriever in a cat's body." He's gentle and lovable and playful but not annoying. He patiently lets the girls cart him all around. Joseph says, "There's something wrong with that cat. He doesn't seem to have a self-preservation instinct," which is quite possibly true since one day I caught him with his tail hanging over a lit candle, blissfully unaware that it was being singed.

His favorite activities are: eating, playing with what we call a Mardi Gras stick--a colorful cat toy courtesy Aunt Julie, sleeping, eating, watching birds out the window, eating, and trying to figure out that funny noise in the sink that happens while the dishwasher is running.

So, in honor of Yo-Yo, here are a few pictures. I'll have you know that I did not pose any of these; I just had the camera fortuitously nearby.

Here are Tuppence and Yo-Yo, also nicknamed Birdie-Boy and Sissy, also nicknamed Pick-n-Punch (because she picks on him, and he punches her). They are quite excited here that the patio door was open for the first time this year so they can watch the birds and squirrels not only in living color but also in surround sound. I nicknamed him Birdie-Boy because he loves to watch the birds but also because he doesn't ever meow; instead he makes a little chirping noise that sounds like a bird.

(Please ignore the bag of trash waiting to be taken out):

Here he is wedged between the glass and screen doors...

Clean laundry...

Under the kitchen sink behind the garbage can...

What a cutie...

Ready for tea...

And here he is enjoying his birthday tuna...

I could have taken a lot more--in the linen cupboard, inside the lazy Susan, on the windowsill, the hamper--He gets around.

Happy first birthday, Yo-Yo!

The Only Bracket I Can Understand

2011-03-20T22:07:00.004-05:00

Darren's into March Madness especially because he's a big Illinois fan, which means I just retreat to our room to watch PBS. Now THEY have the kind of bracket I can get behind--Masterpiece Madness.

The four main categories are: Sleuths, Cops, & Justice Seekers; Women of Inferior Birth, Lesser Marriages, and the Working Class; Men Who Toil, Serve, and Ne'er Do Well; and The Peerage, Aristocracy, and Well-to-Do.

Here are my picks so far:

Meeting of the Unknown Heiresses: Amy Dorrit of Little Dorrit (vs Esther Summerson of Bleak House)

Clash of the Dreamers and Schemers: Francis Urquardt of House of Cards (vs Will Ladislaw of Middlemarch)

Battle of the Blond Sidekicks (this was slightly confusing because you weren't voting for the sidekicks themselves but rather the lead detectives who have the blond sidekicks): Robbie Lewis Lewis (vs Kurt Wallender)

Struggle of the Sad Spouses: Mr. Rochester of Jane Eyre (vs Irene Heron of The Forsyte Saga)

So far it hasn't been too heated, but just wait until Lady Violet goes up against Emma Woodhouse or Jane Tennison goes up against Inspector Morse.

If you are a huge dork and want to play too, just "like" PBS on Facebook. Voting on each is open for 24 hours.

My $.02 On A Controversial Book

2011-03-18T05:00:00.002-05:00

I'm interested in this huge controversy taking place via the Internet about Rob Bell's (a pastor from Michigan) new book, Love Wins. It's a book that apparently poses radical questions about Christianity and where people will spend eternity.

Let me say straight up, this isn't a book review because I haven't read the book and honestly don't plan to either. There are a lot of new mysteries and Tori Spelling memoirs out there that need my attention. They're not going to read themselves, people.

I'm mostly interested by how this thing has gone viral--from being posted about on a theological news blog (which got something like 250,000 hits over one weekend about it) to CNN to the NY Times to the Washington Post to MSNBC.

Because of my media class, I find it worthy of noting on that front. When I click over to the Huffington Post for the daily Charlie Sheen news (yet another media ethics question) and see something about Rob Bell's book, I take a look.

I'm also interested as a Christian by the quotes I've read from Love Wins and what people, both supporters and critics, are saying about it. The following are a few quotes:

Liberals have striven to make the gospel relevant to “the cultured despisers” of religion. For liberals, the sensibilities of the age trump biblical revelation.

What the first Christians did was look around them and put the Jesus story in language their listeners would understand.

Ordinary believers are waiting for a new comprehensible interpretation of Christianity, which relate to the lives they're living right now.

Let's start by flinging religion into the melting pot and recasting our beliefs in a bold, creative, dynamic style that's thoroughly attuned to our day and age.

[The author] has been led to ask some radical questions about his faith...no question can be too radical....

Here's what's fascinating to me--the first two quotes above are about or from Love Wins. The other three quotes are about or from a book written close to 50 years ago called Honest to God by John Robinson, Bishop of Woolwich. It caused every bit as big a controversy back in 1963 as this book is causing in 2011.

As usual, it seems like nothing is new. I love this quote from the debate back then surrounding Honest to God:

Where will the ravages end? The Devil and Hell went long ago; the position of the Blessed Virgin has been seriously undermined; God who until last week was invulnerable, is now distinctly on the defensive. What will ultimately be left except a belief in the need for bishops, if only to give evidence in trials about obscenity and to talk to pop singers on television?

Rob Bell's book is already #4 on the NY Times bestseller list this week, and I've seen some of my friends on facebook asking others, "Have you read this book? What do you think? Should I?"

What I'm really thankful for in all this is that my parents, teachers, and pastors have always encouraged me to not just accept what someone tells me about the Bible but to open it up and read it for myself.

I think just like the Honest to God debate melted away in the 1960s, the Love Wins controversy will melt away, too, though unfortunately, now just as then, it will take some people who don't read and understand for themselves away with it.

A minister who was asked where he stood on the Honest to God debate summed it up thusly:

"God is very much greater than a little book like Honest to God [or Love Wins]. Where do I stand? I stand beyond it. I think that beyond all the words lies the Word that dwarfs them all."

You Know What Day It Is

2011-03-17T08:16:00.010-05:00

We were awakened by loud music playing in the kitchen. Loud Irish music.

Oh yeah. He was here.

Trashing the place as usual.

Dividing up the loot. Hey, one of those is mine.

Ready to go tell everyone at school what happened.

My parents have been playing Irish music since I was a toddler. It's one of my earliest, fondest memories. That music is imprinted on me. We started with the Irish Rovers, added the Chieftains (of course), Eileen Ivers, newer artists such as Gaelic Storm, and many more. When Darren and I were in Ireland, a cab driver told us, "You in America. You're up at 5 to go to work and go to bed so early so you can get up and work again. Ireland's not like that. We have fun, go out. Not you Americans--no fun. No jiggy jiggy!"

So this is for you today and it's playing at our house, too. Get your jiggy-jiggy on. And I'll leave you with the sweet Irish blessing I learned as a pre-schooler: "May you be half an hour in heaven before the devil knows you're dead!"

Hymn Playlist

2011-03-15T15:27:00.006-05:00

I am on Spring Break this week, but I'm taking my free time to get ready for my summer class. It's a lot of work, fun work, but it's not leaving me much time to write anything else, so this is what I'm cobbling together.

I think Christianity Today put out a list of the top 27 or so hymns of all time last week, and now I see Travis Cottrell and others out there asking "What's Your Favorite Hymn?" I love hymns so, so much, and it's hard to give a comprehensive list--but here are some of my favorites. (A side note: I like all the musical renditions in these youtube versions I'm putting up, but the artwork/slideshows...maybe not so much. I guess just...close your eyes!)

Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah.
I couldn't find a rendition on youtube that I liked of this. I love Robin Mark's version on his "All For Jesus: Songs & Hymns" album. My favorite verse is the last: "When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside. Death of death and hell's destruction, land me safe on Canaan's side."

I Stand Amazed.
If I heard my mom standing at the kitchen sink, singing this one once, I heard her a thousand times. I love this, especially at around the 4:45 mark--and knowing that she is singing it face-to-face now. I can't wait!

Come Thou Fount.
This one has seen me through some rocky times.

He Leadeth Me.
Ditto on this one.

Be Thou My Vision.
Sung at our wedding and my brother's wedding, now known as "The Wedding Song" in our family.

Great is Thy Faithfulness.
This is the Moody Bible Institute hymn, so I pretty much heard this every single Sunday morning of my childhood on WMBI, then sang it all the time in college. But I never really heard it until it came on while I was rocking my first-born baby, the one I had waited 8 years to arrive.

Precious Lord.
I couldn't make a hymn list without at least one of the black gospel hymns that has shaped my existence. Here is really the first one written, plus another hymn I heard my mom sing a million times around the house.

Oh Happy Day.
Here is another gospel favorite. I sang this so many times at the little black church I went to in college. I know this is from a movie, but man. Great version. It really starts around 1:30.

How Firm a Foundation.
I couldn't find a rendition of this online that I liked, but I have sung this in the dark many times.

Blessed Assurance.
This is my story, this is my song.

Well, those are some of mine. I could probably make a list of 40 or more, but I'll stop there. What are your favorites?

I Missed Read-Across-America Day

2011-03-07T10:14:00.007-06:00

I'm trying to blog once a week at least. I think I used to have a lot more time in my schedule for it, but it's still not something I'm wanting to give up. Normally I would have blogged about Read-Across-America Day (March 2), but I just couldn't fit it in that day.

If you don't know already, it's on Theodor Geisel aka Dr. Seuss's birthday. Now I will say upfront, of course I love Dr. Seuss. I love his droll artwork and nonsensical words and his subversive little plots about love, life, happiness, and nuclear war. But I will also say as a mom, I got so sleepy and borderline irritated, reading his books aloud. For crying in a bucket, Sam-I-am, just try the dumb green eggs and ham already so we can close this book and get to bed.

I used to sit and hold both babies on my lap and read to them. Then when Lucy got a little bigger, she sat next to me, and Elaine sat on my lap. Now there's not room for all three of us in the rocking chair, so every night they crawl in their twin beds while I sit and read a chapter (or two or three) from whichever book we're reading.

Since Elaine turned 5 on her birthday, I decided it was time for both girls to hear the book from which Elaine got her name. When I was a little girl, both my parents read aloud to us all the time, but my dad read two books in particular that really shaped my personality and thinking for the rest of my life. One, of course, was Lewis's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, from which Lucy got her name. The other is a much lesser known book, Rainbow Garden by Patricia St. John, and that's where we got Elaine's name.

It's about a young girl, Elaine, in London whose mother takes a job in Paris so Elaine is sent to North Wales to live with a minister, his wife, and their six children. Elaine is lonely and unhappy, but eventually she opens her heart first, to the Welsh countryside, to the Owen family, and eventually to Jesus Christ. Of course, being a children's book, there is plenty of adventure, a robbery, and an exciting conclusion, too.

My mom made story quilts of both Lucy and Elaine's books, and one of my good memories from last summer at the hospice was the last day or so my mom was alive, I brought both girls' quilts and spread them out in her room. Everyone who worked there came in at some point during the day to admire the beautiful quilts, and they touched my mom's unconscious face and held her hands and told her what an artist she was.
Both girls loved hearing Rainbow Garden, but if you decide to read it, make sure you get an unabridged version. Around the year 2000, Moody Press released new versions of St. John's books since many of them had gone out of print; however, they "updated" and abridged them to sad results. For example, one of the best scenes from Rainbow Garden is Elaine's first Easter morning in Wales. I don't have an exact quote from the new version, but it's basically, "They all went to church and stood in the Easter sunlight, singing and joyful." Whereas the original version goes like this (I remember this even from when I was a little kid): "The church was overflowing with people and full of Easter flowers. the communion Table was a mass of huge daffodil trumpets, white blossom, and tulips, and the choir and congregation rose to their feet and sang as only the Welsh can sing--Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!

We finished Rainbow Garden last week and have started on a completely different book.

I have my old, old, old copy that my mom read to my brother and me when we were little. We would crawl in her bed with her, and she would read to us while my dad was out teaching night classes. My dad worked all day and then taught at Wheaton College in the evenings to pay for our schooling. At the time, I thought he just did it because he enjoyed it.

Anyway, we would pile in with Mom, and she would read all manner of books, but this is one of the ones I remember and love the most. When this book was first published in England (in 1958), it was released under the title The Chimneys of Green Knowe. It's the second book in the Green Knowe series (I think there are at least five books). Despite the new cover art and this alternate title, the contents of the books have been kept the same.

This is the story of Tolly Oldknow, a boy in boarding school who spends his vacations with his great-grandmother at their family estate. He discovers as he stays there, that there are "others" inhabiting the house also--his ancestors. Other than that, I don't want to give away much of the story.

Last fall, in the UK, there was a movie called "From Time to Time" (it was just released on DVD) that is based on this book. The script was written by Julian Fellowes, who wrote Gosford Park and my winter addiction, Downton Abbey. It stars Alex Etel as Tolly, Maggie Smith as his great-grandmother Oldknow, and Hugh Bonneville as Captain Oldknow (one of the "others").

We haven't seen the movie yet because we want to finish the book first, but I've watched a couple of clips. I know it will be somewhat different, so I'm going to try and judge the book and film as separate entities. (Already, Alex Etel is much older than Tolly in the book.)

Here's a preview:

So, that's our Read-Across-America. I highly recommend both these books and am always looking for more good new things to read--so give me your ideas!

A New Start, Slightly Delayed

2011-02-28T10:05:00.009-06:00

I've noticed lately that I have some really bad habits. Here's a little sample of how an average day for me goes.

Get up while it's dark and moan, "I am soooooo tired." Get ready and get the people in my care ready, skip breakfast because I'm not really that hungry but make a huge mug of strong black tea with milk and sugar, head out the door to work/school. Come home mid-morning, starving, but because I don't eat breakfast, grab a handful of chocolate-covered raisins or gummy worms or both. Pick up Elaine from school, grabbing a spoonful of Nutella on the way out the door. One of my friends says this is the mom's equivalent of a little sanity nip of whiskey during the day. Come home and fix Elaine lunch and cobble something together for myself--yogurt? chips and dip? spoonfuls of peanut butter and jelly? whatever and another mug of black tea with milk and sugar. The afternoon looks pretty much the same, then eat something kind of normal for dinner (which I am starving for at that point).

Consequently, I am exhausted all the time and grouchy. I'm always saying things like, "I wish I was one of our cats," because then I could look like this:

Or this:

I didn't used to be this way. I was a healthy eater. It may shock you to learn that I've never been athletic, but I did love to work out. I worked out 5-6 days a week for years. I worked out daily through both pregnancies, including a 45-minute workout the morning Elaine was born. Actually, the last time I worked out was that morning Elaine was born, so if you're doing the math, that is slightly over five years ago.

Not working out makes your healthy eating habits slip, which makes you lethargic and tired and not want to work out. So when I went to my doctor in January, who always thought I was awesome for being Pregnant Workout Mom, told me I need to pick up the pace again because I will feel so much better.

I thought about what works for me and my life. I have friends who belong to gyms and go to personal trainers and all that, but that has never worked for me. I'm a home workout person. I also don't like fancy equipment or anything that makes me motivate myself. I am, at heart, a slacker in this area, so I want somebody else motivating me.

I started looking into different workout DVDs: Zumba (too uncoordinated for that), Hip-Hop Abs (ditto, and I would feel stupid--I secretly like some hip-hop, but have you ever met anyone as UNhip-hop as me?), and various other options I discarded as too hard, too easy, too cringe-worthy.

Lots of people swear by Jillian Michaels and The Shred, but she scares me. I'm not going to pay someone to be mean to me, I can get that for free at the post office or DMV. So, I went back to the first person I ever worked out with, the person I credit for the good habits I used to have but have discarded:

Now I know Denise gets a lot of flak for being too cheerleaderish and perky and whatnot, but I love her. Instead of yelling at you and berating you, she gently lifts the Cadbury egg from your hand while replacing it with an avocado and telling you how wonderful you are. She also has lots of great meal ideas and plans and general healthy living advice. Also? She's in her 50s. LOOK AT HER.

I planned to start my new workout and eating habits last week when for the first time in a couple years, I got so sick. Just laid out flat. I described it to a friend like this in an email:

"The first night I was sick, Darren was gone late at his office and I picked up the girls from school practically in delirium. I said, 'Mommy's sick; you're on your own' when we got home. So, Lucy was such a good girl and watched PBS Kids until practically bedtime and got herself a snack and took her own shower and put her pajamas on, and Elaine was EVER SO WICKED.

She took down the scissors (forbidden) and cut up paper into confetti and scattered it everywhere and pulled out everything and put on her boots and stomped all over the house singing "I may never march in the infantry..." (by the way? my major symptom at that point was migraine and nausea. Every sound, even the tiniest, was torture. I could have probably heard a mouse tinkling on cotton, so a 42-lb child in boots singing loudly...oh, the humanity. But I was powerless to do anything!) Then she ate an entire box, our only box I might add, of Tagalongs (chocolate peanut butter patties). The whole box. Didn't miss a one. And didn't even get sick as her punishment, the little sniper.

Finally Darren called because he was going to take his Indian colleagues out to dinner (his office is about 1 hour 45 minutes from here), and I just started to sob, "helpmeI'mdyingIwantmymama" so he came right home like the good man he is. He found a disastrous house, one good girl in her bed, and one extremely naughty little girl curled up next to me in my bed, snoring. "

So that basically took care of last week. We'll forget about that. THIS week is the new start. I'm beginning by eating healthier, more energy-inducing foods. Here's a sampling: (breakfast) half a cup of oatmeal with skim milk and a sprinkle of brown sugar. (lunch) (I got this one from Denise) Two cooked egg whites with salsa, avocado, and a slice of whole grain toast. (snack) a quarter cup of raw almonds. (supper--what we're trying tonight) Baked fish, rice, sugar snap peas. Amazingly, I am not starving throughout the day. Since I've been sick, I've wanted to sleep a lot, but I'm sure I'll notice more energy soon.

I'm starting to work out 3-4 days a week and will hopefully work back up to my 5-6. I also hope to add a couple more workouts in so I can vary things.

One thing I'm not giving up so far is the big mugs of strong black tea with the milk and sugar. My mom started giving me that at about 18 months old and now I'm 40-something so for you math whizzes, that's kind of a long time. I don't think I'm going to break that habit. But I am cutting back on a lot of the other sugar I keep shoveling in my pie hole.

There's the plan. Hold me to it! And let me know if you have any great energy-increasing tips. Or have favorite workout routines. Or know any good hip-hop songs.

The Museum & Martin

2011-02-21T10:13:00.014-06:00

Last week was an annual event at the girls' school called Night at the Museum. Elaine's class did not take part in this because they have an event called Razzmatazz, which is science-based. That was a couple of weeks ago. Night at the Museum is science, social studies, and art projects combined. Each grade is assigned a different theme.

Darren was trying to make it back from his office to attend so the girls and I went ahead without him. We arrived two minutes after the start and had to park three blocks away. It's kind of a big deal. Elaine wasn't feeling well, so I just brought her in her pajamas (and bedhead if you're wondering why she looks a little rough in these pictures).

The theme for second grade this year was China. This is the first year that Mandarin is being taught at school. The students begin Spanish in pre-school and now Mandarin Chinese and Latin in first grade. They continue all three languages until high school at which point they become electives.

Here's Luce and Hathead outside the second grade corridor (oh, and Lucy is wearing the Chinese hat she made and the second grade t-shirt that says "China" in calligraphy:
Here is Lucy's classroom. There are three second grade rooms, and they each did different things about China. Lucy's class focused on things invented by the Chinese.

Here is their tea display:

This is their counting display; Lucy did 14 cups of tea:

They made paper! Also, outside the classroom, they did the Chinese flag out of their homemade paper, but unfortunately I didn't get a picture of that.

This was my favorite exhibit. Lucy told us how when Chinese emperors died, their palace guards were buried alive with them. (Nice.) However, Emperor Chin took pity on his soldiers and had substitutes made of terracotta that were buried with him. The class made this terracotta soldier display (they each made a soldier):
Here is their tangram display:

And here is their display of various Chinese inventions.

After visiting all the second grade rooms, we visited first grade, who did ants, bees, and spiders; kindergarten, who did sharks, whales, and dolphins; third grade, who did a wax museum of historical figures--each child dressed as a different character, and when you pressed a button on his or her hand, would give you some facts about that person. Fourth grade did space, and fifth grade did the Civil War, complete with handmade paddle boats that raced each other on a recreated Mississippi River.

All the kids (and teachers!) worked so hard on their various exhibits. It was a great night.

On Friday, Lucy came home with Martin the Moose. Again. Remember Martin the Moose? I thought we had seen the last of him, but apparently not.

We had no trips anywhere planned, so I foresaw a mundane weekend at our house for him. Then I remembered we were going to a wedding on Saturday. Martin could go as our guest. Lucy was excited about this idea until we actually got to the church.

"I'm too embarrassed to carry Martin in to the wedding," she whispered.

"I'll carry him," offered Elaine, but by the time we got in the doors, she decided she was too embarrassed, too. They tried to pass him off to me, but I'm not carrying a stuffed moose as an accessory. Dad, good sport that he is, got Martin.

He also got the camera after the ceremony and set about getting Martin's photo ops.

Here is Martin with the bride and groom (who were extremely good sports to pose with the stupid moose).

Here is Martin at the punch bowl:

And Martin with the cake. At this point, the girls AND I were mortified, so we walked away and pretended we didn't know Darren. Or the moose. But of course we're grateful to him for getting these shots we were too embarrassed to get for ourselves.

So, that was our week/weekend. And congrats to Jon and Michele. We wish you many happy years together!

My Funny Valentines

2011-02-14T09:44:00.010-06:00

We are not just having Valentines Day, we have had an extended Valentines weekend. Actually, I'm not that into this Hallmark holiday, and when Darren asked me a couple of weeks ago what I wanted for Valentines Day, I said, "Nothing. I really don't need anything; it's no big deal. Just make sure you never forget my birthday though, dawg." (He never has.)

But with little kids, V-Day is a huge ol' deal as I remember all too well, and the first event was last Thursday, Lucy's Brownie troupe had a Mother/Daughter Valentine tea party. I don't have pictures of it, but it was so sweet. They had set up tables and made placecards with their pictures on them and served us tea or lemonade, grapes, cupcakes, and Girl Scout cookies. Then the Brownies sang, "Skinny-ma-rink-a-dinky-dink" (you know what song I'm talking about) to their moms or grandmas. After that, they gave us hand massages with lotion and back massages. Hello, that needs to be a feature at all future tea parties.

Then on Friday night was the first ever Dad-Daughter Valentine Dance for grades 1 through 5.

Dad and daughter. I wish you could see Darren's second grade pictures. He and Lucy could be fraternal twins.

Here is Dad with both his girls. Elaine and I planned to go out that night so she could have something nice to do, too. I let her pick--she said she wanted to go to Perkins for chicken noodle soup, then come home and make Valentines together, then put on our pajamas and watch "That Darn Cat" in my bed. I even conceded to playing her Kindermusik CD in the car on the way to the restaurant. It's so precious to hear her sing along, but after a few hundred times of "Hammer and Saw" or "Peanut Butter and Jelly," I want to remove my eardrums with one of those serrated grapefruit spoons.

Darren and Lucy went to India House for dinner (her pick) and then to the dance, which she said later was the most wonderful ball she'd ever been to. Also, she and Daddy did the Chicken Dance, of which unfortunately, I have no pictures.

Saturday was the day we'd been waiting for for ages. Every year my dad takes all of us out for lunch on Valentine's Day, and we exchange cards. We went to Wildwood in Geneva, and then we went to a performance of what, if you've read this blog for any length of time, you know is our family obsession--Riverdance. Here is an account of when we went previously.

Though I still did not have gum this time around, Rome did so everyone was set before the show even started. Elaine sat on my lap (and bounced and tapped her feet) through the whole thing, but at one point she whispered to me, "I dropped my gum." Oddly enough, I saw her chewing it again later on, but I didn't research into that too much.

Sunday we spent all afternoon, cutting and pasting and coloring, because the girls decided they wanted to make all their Valentines this year instead of buying them. Kill me. But we did it and finished about 45 homemade cards.

This morning, Lucy woke up extra early for the big day and because she couldn't wait to give me what she'd made for me.

Elaine had made me a Valentine at Cubbies last week, and she showed me right away but then ordered, "Now, you forget you ever saw that so I can give it to you again on Valentines Day." I promised to forget, and she hid it. I don't have a picture of it because in fact, while I was writing this post, she produced it from where she'd stashed it--one of the cat's beds. I also dropped by her school party this morning. Yes, she insisted on wearing her tutu to school today.

Then, when I got home from teaching this morning, this is what I found. Even though I told him I didn't need or want anything, after almost 20 years he's still a smooth operator.

Last of all, I heard this song on the radio this morning, which I think is the ultimate Valentine anyone could ever give. I got tears in my eyes just listening to it. At about the 2:18 mark is where it really gets cooking.

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Sixty-Eight Rooms

2011-02-08T09:26:00.003-06:00

Every year for Christmas, our girls get a liberal supply of books. They're usually eclipsed by the dolls and toys and clothes for the initial opening time, but when the long, cold winter marches on and the other gifts are forgotten, the books come to life.

This year I gave Lucy a recently published book called The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone. I swear to you, I had the idea for this book myself years ago, but apparently Marianne Malone stopped blogging and got off facebook and actually wrote the thing.

It caught my eye on my amazon recommendations because it's a children's fantasy that takes place in the Thorne Rooms. If you're from Chicago, you know the Rooms. They're miniature recreations of rooms from varying historical periods, housed in the basement of the Art Institute of Chicago. I could write a lot about them, but I'll just shorten it to say: they are Made of Awesome. You can see them online here, but it is nothing to seeing them in person.

The Sixty-Eight Rooms is about two sixth-graders named Jack and Ruthie who discover a magic key that allows them to shrink down to five inches so they can get in the Rooms and investigate. Not only can they check out the contents, when they are in a room they are actually transported back to that time in history as well. In the book, they travel to the 1500s, the time of Christina of Denmark; the 1600s in Massachusetts during the Salem Witch Trials; and the 1700s in Paris, right before the French Revolution.

The book tips its hat to E.L. Konigsburg's From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, which, I think pretty much anyone around my age regards as The Precious from childhood, but it's not derivative. Besides the storylines going on in the Rooms, Jack and Ruthie have mysteries they're trying to solve in real life, which eventually become intertwined with their miniature adventures.

The only quibble I have with the book might not even be a problem for a lot of readers. But to me, a lot of time was spent on the logistics--where did the magic originate, but moreso how to enter the museum, how to access the rooms, whether or not the historic figures could see the rooms, etc. Now to me, I grew up on L.M. Boston fantasies or better yet, E.B. White's work. As in, meet the Little family. They have two sons: one is a boy and one is a mouse. Now let's get on with the story. But I am almost always willing to suspend any disbelief, and also, I would believe anything Mr. E.B. White told me.

However, what is one man's floor is another man's ceiling. If you've got a kid who constantly interrupts your reading to ask, "Wait a minute. Now how did they get from here to..." then all of the explanation in The Sixty-Eight Rooms is perfect. Actually, one of my kids IS like that, so there you go.

I thought just Lucy would be interested in this story, since it's billed for ages 8 and up. But I was surprised that Elaine entered in just as much and would beg to hear more every night. There is one part where Jack and Ruthie have to fight off a cockroach, and both girls wanted to look at the picture. When I showed them the two 5-inch children battling the enormous roach, they both started squealing and pulled the covers over their head. But the next day, Elaine kept picking up the book and turning back to see the picture of "that big bug." I am also planning a special trip with our friends Jamie and MaryBeth (they're reading the book, too) to show Lucy the rooms, but as soon as Elaine heard about it she was all in. She will not be left behind.

One night while reading, she interrupted me to ask, "Mama? When we go to visit those Rooms, are we going to be our regular size? Or are we going to get small like Jack and Ruthie?"

After we finished the book, I told them both something really important to me. When you read or hear or see something that touches you or you especially enjoy, if possible, write a letter to the author or creator of it and tell them. They were totally on board with that and couldn't wait to write to Ms. Marianne Malone. We checked her site, and the way to contact her was right there.

First I asked them to tell me their favorite parts.

Here is Lucy's answer: "Ohhhhh. I loved when they read Christina's book and when they met Sophie in Paris and also Thomas and I loved the descriptions of the rooms and that canopy bed and the part about the bento box and going into the Japanese room."

Here is Elaine's answer: "I liked that big bug."

So, here is the letter that they sent:

Dear Ms. Malone,

We just finished reading your book with our mom. We loved it! Our favorite parts were when you described what the rooms looked like and when Jack and Ruthie met Sophie and Monsieur Lesueur in Paris. We also liked when they had to fight the cockroach!

Our mom grew up near Chicago and has been to the Thorne Rooms lots and lots of times. She always wondered if they might have some magic. She is going to take us there soon, so we can see all the things we read about.

Are you going to write any more adventures in the rooms? Will someone find the note in the bento box? We hope so!

Your friends,
Lucy (7)
Elaine (5)

The next day, Ms. Marianne Malone wrote back! They were so excited. Here is her answer:

Dear Lucy and Elaine,

Thank you so much for your email! I love hearing from people who have read my book and enjoyed it. Your favorite parts are some of my favorites, too! Tell your mother that I have met many grown ups who have fond memories of seeing the Thorne Rooms when they were young, and still love them today. I know I do!

There will be a sequel to The Sixty-Eight Rooms and it will be published about a year from now, so you will have to be patient. But it is all about Ruthie and Jack having more adventures in the Rooms. I hope you will enjoy the next one as much as the first.

Have a great time when you go to see the Rooms. The Art Institute is a wonderful museum

Warmly,
Marianne Malone

Is that cool or what? Lucy took the letter to school yesterday, and her teacher had her read it to the class and tell about the book.

Whether you have kids or not, The Sixty-Eight Rooms is a fun read. And if you live anywhere within driving distance of the Thorne Rooms, you should certainly check them out. You never know what might happen!

I Can't Take It Anymore!

2011-02-05T15:19:00.008-06:00

Back in late November, I changed my desktop wallpaper to a snowy picture of Salisbury Cathedral. It was so lovely and festive and in-the-bleak-midwinter with bare, black branches silouhetted against it. I am totally over it now.

Last night I started doing what I do every single beginning-of-February: started looking at gardening websites. Never mind that I am the worst, most inept gardener in the world. Every year, I promise that this is going to be my year.

I take comfort in my friend's mom--she has the most lovely garden imaginable with a gazebo, and she has her friends over and serves them tea and trifle there.

"That's my ambition," I tell my friend. "To serve tea and trifle in my garden gazebo."

And then she tells me that her mom's garden has only looked this way since she and her brother grew up--when they were kids, there was a mound of dirt in the backyard with a stick in it.

There is hope for me! I have several dreams, including the tea-and-trifle-in-the-gazebo. One is an English walled garden, a courtyard one, like they have at the Chicago Botanic Gardens. My other dream, since I've been a little girl, is having a Japanese garden, one that is almost fulfilled by living down the road from the third-highest rated Japanese garden in the country.

Someday, I vow, my yard will be more than weeds and dirt with sticks in it.

In the meantime, I changed my desktop to this:

Ahhhh. Much better. And here are some more for your viewing pleasure.

Sigh. Spring, come quickly! I think I'll go watch Enchanted April.

Classics in a Minute

2011-02-03T10:47:00.002-06:00

OK, if you are like me, right about now you're tired of being stuck indoors and need a new site to look at. Was everyone in the world on facebook and Webkinz yesterday? Webkinz took forever to load, and if one more person posted a picture of their snowy backyard on FB, my laptop was going to blow.

Well, I read a number of book sites when I can, but for the first time yesterday I stumbled across Book-A-Minute Classics. Oh man, funny, funny stuff. You've got to check it out--whether you love the classics or hate them. It's just what it sounds like, summarizing the classics in a minute or less. Of course I first had to look up books I hate. Here are a couple:

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway:

An old man catches a fish that's too big for his boat. The fish gets eaten by sharks. Then he goes home and DIES.

THE END

or

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Ishmael: Call me Ishmael.

Captain Ahab: Crew, we will seek the white whale and kill it, because I am insane.

Crew: Alas, your destructive obsession will be our undoing.

(They almost find the white whale. Then they almost find the white whale. Then they find it.)

Captain Ahab: I stab at thee. I stab at thee.

(Everybody dies except Ishmael, although this is no surprise, because it was foreshadowed CONTINUALLY from the BEGINNING.)

THE END.

or

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Holden Caulfield: Angst angst angst swear curse swear crazy crazy angst swear curse, society sucks, and I'm a stupid jerk.

THE END.

I'll just give you one more because you need to check it out for yourself (there are lots of books on there). This is definitely not a book I hate, it's a book I love and am struck by its brilliance every time I read it, but I fell down laughing reading its synopsis.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Gatsby: Daisy, I made all this money for you because I love you.

Daisy: I cannot reciprocate because I represent the American Dream.

Gatsby: Now I must die because I also represent the American Dream.

(Gatsby DIES.)

Nick: I hate New Yorkers.

THE END

Check it out!

For a Long Winter's Evening

2011-02-02T15:23:00.015-06:00

Darren told me the other day that he heard or read on the news that TV viewing is way up now, which seems like kind of a "duh" item to me. We just survived the blizzard of 2011 this week, and yes, what helps us through the long, dark, cold evenings when we have no desire to go out is TV. Not just any TV though, because neither one of us can deal with sitcoms or reality shows and have only limited tolerance for the endless crime/police/forensics shows on. We are story junkies. Give us a good story, and we'll watch for hours.

I've long been a proponent for Masterpiece Theatre, since that's what my parents watched when I was little. MT is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year, so, in the interest of that, and if you're looking for something to get hooked on and while away a winter evening, I thought I'd post some of my favorites over the years.

One caveat: Masterpiece Theatre has always been an adult show, and it's coming from the UK where they don't have the FCC guidelines we do here. I've noticed any number of complaints from amazon reviewers about how they couldn't show some of these to their kids or grandkids or whatever. For years, MT didn't even start until 9 p.m. I wasn't ever allowed to watch the show with my parents until I got to fifth grade because a) it was past my bedtime and b) most of the programs were too mature for children. The reason I got to watch in fifth grade was because that was the first time the BBC did Pride & Prejudice. I'm really picky about what my kids watch, and I'm picky about what I watch as well.

So, with each show, I'll try to give some sort of rating as well, and we'll all leave things up to the dictates of our own conscience. Here we go!
Downton Abbey just finished this past Sunday, but all the eps are available on the Masterpiece Theatre site to view until February 22nd. I absolutely loved this, and apparently it had a record 11.8 million viewers in the UK, so it's already in production for both a second season and a Christmas special. Watch out, it's addictive. I would say that young teens and up could watch this. There are two brief scenes I wouldn't want my little kids to see, and other than that I think they'd be kind of bored.

This is my favorite piece of television of all time. All TIME. It is completely family-friendly and suitable for anyone, but I think it will be a couple of years before my kids will be interested in this one. It's everything rolled into one: fantastic storylines (multiple), drama, hilarity, valor, it's got it all. Get the Kleenex before you watch.

This series is based on the books by John Galsworthy. Darren and I spent one winter a couple years ago glued to this every night. I think Irene is miscast, but other than that, it's wonderful. Part II is below. I would probably rate this PG-13.
This is another family-friendly one, based on the novel by Elizabeth Gaskell. I watched this a number of times with my mom, and we loved it.

I know it's cliche to love this, but really. It's the definitive version. My girls adore this and actually bring it along on long car trips to watch. You've probably seen it, but if you haven't, you've got to.
There have been so many movie versions of Jane Eyre (and I've seen them all), but in my opinion, this is by far, by FAR, the best. Ruth Wilson is a wonderful Jane, and Toby Stephens (son of Maggie Smith) is the perfect Mr. Rochester. I'd rate this PG.
This is a classic. I thought the first episode or two were a little slow, but after that I was hooked in for the remainder of the 15 hours. If you are at all interested in British-Indian history, this is the series for you...but honestly, it's a fascinating story even if you're not. I think I would rate it PG-13, due to violence and some mature themes.
Darren and I just watched the House of Cards trilogy last fall. It's an inside look at a dastardly British prime minister in the 1980s. Mesmerizing, but I would say adults only for this one.

"The Last Enemy" is a look at future, but not too distant future, Britain--when all citizens must have an identity chip and there are surveillance cameras wherever you go. This is a good thriller, and I'd rate it PG (I think? Hopefully there's not some scene I'm forgetting. Maybe...PG-12 just to be safe.) I bet some junior high or high school kid will have to do a paper on government involvement or Big Brother or something, and this would be some good (and fun) research material for them.

This is one of my favorite minis of all time. It's the story of two seemingly unrelated murders, corruption in Whitehall, and journalistic integrity. It's interesting to see how much the newspaper business has changed just since 2002-2003 when this was made, but the story still stands up. It's one of those when you plan to just watch one episode from 9 to 10, then you find yourself still watching at 2 a.m. It's the mini-series that the American/Russell Crowe movie from a few years ago was based on, and I don't know how they could have crammed these six hours into two, so I never bothered to watch that. Bill Nighy won a BAFTA for this, and his performance alone is worth watching, but everyone is great. I would say, kind of unfortunately, this one's for adults only.

Lastly, these are series that are in my personal queue to see. I hear this is the definitive version:

And this is a story of the pre-WWI years as told through the eyes of Johnny, the son of Queen Mary and George V, who was kept hidden away because of his epilepsy seizures and other idiosyncratic behavior.

I've actually got more if you're still reading this and have already seen all these, but I figure this should be enough for now. What are some of your favorites?

Stopping at the Stop Signs

2011-01-31T09:54:00.011-06:00

A few years ago, I was driving home from work within a residential area, before I got to the highway. Suddenly, I saw the dreaded lights flashing in my rearview mirror. And you know in a residential area, it's pretty much you they're stopping, not racing aside to get to someone else.

I pulled over, and an officer came over to my window.

"Did you know you just completely blew off that stop sign back there?" he asked.

"No, I didn't, I'm really sorry," I told him.

"I mean, you just blew through it," he said. "You didn't even slow down."

"I'm so, so sorry," I said again. "I honestly didn't see it." I was too ashamed and too smart to add that I had been driving through this residential area twice a day on work days for the past several years.

He looked in the back of my car where my two babies were and said, "I'll let you off this time, but try to watch what you're doing." He leaned his head in and said to Lucy, who was about 2, "Don't tell Daddy that Mommy got stopped by the policeman, OK?"

A couple of weeks ago, we started the spring semester women's Bible study at our church. Here's what we're doing:

The challenge for the next 9-10 weeks is to step up our faith, to not just believe in God, but flat out believe Him. Believe He is who He says He is and that He'll do what He says He'll do. In the first session, we learned that the Israelites were asked to wear blue tassels on their garments to set them apart and to show that they believed God. For at least the length of our study (I have a feeling I'll do it much longer), I'll be wearing this--a specially-made Believing God bracelet--as a reminder to me that I'm asking for my faith to be stretched and increased.

There is homework for each day during the week, and then there is one portion to save for the end of the day called "GodStops." This is a time to write down all the ways that day that, according to the book, "any means by which God seems to go out of His way during your day to make Himself known to you." Stop stands for "Savoring the Observable Presence."

The book goes on to say, "Don't be discouraged if you don't observe evidence of His presence every day. Some days are so hectic that we don't look up enough to notice that the world is still turning--let alone notice the One who is turning it!"

As soon as I read that, I sighed in relief. "That's me," I thought. "I know I really won't have many or any GodStops because I am just kind of freaking out right now. Every day I look at my calendar, and it's filled. All I want to do at the end of the day is turn out the light and fall asleep because I know I'm just back on the treadmill tomorrow. So...GodStops will just be off my radar for this study."

Fortunately, God stopped me right there and reminded me that this is exactly what the study is about. Increasing my faith. Believing Him. And maybe I'm cruising around so fast that there are GodStops all the time, and I'm just blowing through them without noticing. So, that became my prayer for this study: "God, show me the stop signs because I'm just not seeing them without you, and I know they're there."

All of a sudden, they're everywhere. They're in something I previously would have said was a coincidence. They're in something I previously would have taken credit for myself (ouch). They're in the birds that stop at the feeder outside my kitchen window or when I got up the other morning and stood outside Lucy and Elaine's bedroom door. Usually in the mornings they get along about as well as Sylvester and Tweety, but there they were, laying in bed in the dark and singing Chris Tomlin's "How Great is Our God" together.

Then last week the phone rang, and it was the hospital. Somehow when you see their name on the caller ID, it's never a good sign. Either you owe a big bill or you're going to owe one. They were calling because they found something in the mammogram I had done the week before, so I would need to come to the breast cancer center to get a more extensive mammogram and an ultrasound.

I'll tell you now that if you get that call, the majority of cases turn out to be nothing--overlapping tissue, a calcium deposit, whatever. But for me, it feels like my aggressive genetics are stopping by to say hello.

You know that poem, "Snake" by Emily Dickinson?

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

"Zero at the bone" about covers it.

So I drove the hour and a half to the breast cancer center, which was next door the building where I used to go so happily every month, then every week for my pre-natal appointments. I checked in and sat down and looked around. There were women of varying ages in the waiting room, no one spoke, and we were surrounded by pamphlets: pamphlets of information, pamphlets of smiling women in headscarves, and I kept thinking, "He knows how scary it is to be us."

I had my exam and then was moved to another waiting room. Time seemed to slow down to slow motion. I noticed everything around me: the stirrers at the coffee station. The box of Kleenex and the money plant on the table. The fact that the other woman in the waiting room was reading a David Baldacci book, but the dust jacket was upside down.

They called me in for the ultrasound and gave me a warm blanket because the room was so cold. The ultrasound took a long time. The technician and I were both quiet, intent on the images on the screen, until I said, "The last ultrasound I had was for my second daughter. It was two days before she was born, and all of a sudden, she gave us a big smile. The technician caught that shot, and we have that picture. She's been smiling at us ever since."

Finally she was done and left the room, telling me that eventually a doctor would come in to talk with me. I laid there in that cold room, the blanket no longer warm, and thought, "I will accept this God, without murmuring, if this is what You have for me to do." Then I tried to go through a mental list of my index cards with my verses on them. I fingered the blue beads on my bracelet. After awhile, and I'm not sure if it was a long time or if it just seemed like a long time, my mind fell back on the old standbys I know so well they're imprinted on my heart--the 23rd Psalm. The Lord's Prayer. The Apostles' Creed. And I was went through them, images kept clicking through my mind.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear, for Thou are with me...
...Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...

I believe in the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting...

Finally the door opened, and the doctor came in.

"Mrs. Daniels?" he said, with an Indian accent. "You are clear. I do not find anything. You are free to go until next year."

Heart stop.

You are free to go.

GodStop.

As I drove home (and you know I had the praise music cranked), my mind was full of the day and the verses and the thought of seeing my husband and my girls when I got home. I knew that though I was by myself in that hospital, I had never been alone, not even for a second. I knew that whatever the outcome had been, it still would have been a GodStop moment. I knew that at a different time in life, I might receive a different verdict. I knew that while I was on that exam table, I had savored the Observable Presence.

The Land of Make Believe

2011-01-24T11:26:00.004-06:00

Last week was a big black hole with regard to blogging, for me anyway. We had the holiday on Monday (hopefully more about that, with pictures, another day), I taught a workshop on Tuesday, my first class on Wednesday, tried to clean the house and do all the laundry and grocery shopping Thursday, started a new Bible study on Friday morning (more about that later), and then went to an all-afternoon series of doctor appointments, which Jennie calls "being violated in about fifteen different ways." Let's not speak of it anymore. On Friday evening, I came home and got into bed.

Saturday I needed to reconnect with my family again in some form, so I set out something that I got probably six years ago when Lucy was still a baby.

But...let me back up. Here's a dilemma I think a lot of parents are faced with. You want to encourage imaginative play with your kids, yet you don't want to a) lie to them and/or b) cause them not to be able to differentiate reality from fantasy. (Not that I personally think that's a big problem. I'll take fantasy any day. It pretty much works for me.)

Now the first problem that probably pops into all our minds is...Santa Claus. I'll just give you my personal take on Santa, and honestly, I don't care a whit about what other people do with their kids. Absolutely no judgement from me either way. But when my mom was a little girl, she believed in Santa until she was around 6 or so when the big girls on the school bus told her, "You know Santa's not real." She said she was shocked, and her first thought was, "Then I bet God's not real either."

So what we do at our house is tell Lucy and Elaine that Santa was a real person who lived long ago, but now he's just fun to pretend about. Lucy learned about Christmas around the world this year at school, and in Germany, in addition to Santa, there's a naughty elf named Hans. She came home and told us at dinner that "Even though Santa is pretend, Hans is definitely real because we saw a picture of him on our computers." Well, if it's on the Internet, it must be true.

Our big challenge is to impress on the girls that not everyone thinks the way we do, and it's incredibly rude to spoil anyone else's fun. So if you meet someone who believes in Santa, just go with it and don't tell him you think he's not real. That's easy for Lucy, who'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings, but it's Elaine's personal mission to make sure truth is known so she's, as it's known at our house, a "blurter."

I guess she blurted out something about Santa to her cousins at Christmas (which Lucy valiantly tried to cover), so one night before lights out, I rerererere-had the discussion with them about not ruining things for people.

Lucy said, "Elaine, how would you feel if someone came up to you and said, 'The Naughty Leprechaun is not real!'"

Elaine sat bolt upright in bed and said, "That's different. The Naughty Leprechaun IS real! He messes up our kitchen and gives us gold coins and everything!" [Implied "duh" there.]

I'm still caught in the dilemma because I love make-believe, and that brings me back to this weekend (finally). When I was at my previous job, we created diagnostic tests for kids and some of them involved manipulatives. A few years ago, they were revamping the tests, and we could take our pick of the manipulatives from the old tests. As I perused the tables, something caught my eye--boxes of miniature people figures, the tallest about five inches high.

Do you remember that old show from the 70s on CBS--Captain Kangaroo? With Bob Keeshan? That is what I watched every single day when I was a little kid. I adored it. Forget Sesame Street or the Electric Company or anything else (if you decide to watch that linked clip above, I get the hugest wave of joy nostalgia when I see it). With the Captain, you didn't have to figure out problems or practice your alphabet or do anything overtly academic. It was just fun and using your imagination, and at the close of each show he would say, "Moms and dads, please read to your kids today!"

One of the features I loved on that show was called the People in the Bookcase. Behind the books on the Captain's bookshelf were little people who had adventures (do you see where this is going?) So when I saw those miniature people on the manipulatives table at work I thought, "People in the bookcase! Lucy will love it when she's older!" Then I stored them in the back of my closet and forgot about them...until Saturday.

I got the people out to see what I've got--a Caucasian family, an African American family, some elderly people, and a dog. I wish I had an Asian family too, bummer. Then while the girls were busy, I went to the basement to our large bookcase--sidenote: a sentimental piece of furniture for me because, while extremely ugly, it's the first piece of furniture I ever bought in my life, at Kohler's junkyard in Lombard, IL, which has since burned down due to all the junk stored there. I might have spent $15 on it. Anyway, it's a big, deep case, perfect for storing either multiple layers of books or one layer of books and some miniature people behind them.

At first I thought I should have furnishings to go with, but then I thought better of that and decided it would be much more fun for the girls to make their own.

So, on the ground floor I installed the Caucasian family, named the Thibedauds. On the second floor is the African American family, the Nelsons. On the third floor, I separated it (with books) into two apartments--one with Mr. Philips and his son Jed, and the second with two elderly ladies who are the Nachman sisters, Patricia Anne and Mary Alice.

Then I took Lucy and Elaine to the basement and showed them the people in the bookcase. They were thrilled.

"How could they move into this apartment building without any furniture?" Lucy asked.

"These are hard economic times," I said. "They knew this was a nice building with two girls who might help them furnish their apartments."

They spent all afternoon on Saturday and all afternoon on Sunday finding things to make beds and tables and chairs and bathtubs, etc. for the new families and also decided on more first names, since there were mothers and fathers and children in both the Thibedaud and Nelson families.

At night I went in to check on them; Elaine was already asleep, but Lucy was still awake.

"Mom, this was just the funnest time ever. I'm soooooo glad we have people in the bookcase. But...I have to tell you something horrible. I was looking at Mr. Philips and guess what it said on his leg?" She lowered her voice to a horrified whisper. "It said, 'Made in China.' It just ruined all my fun when I saw that. Did you put those people there?"

"Oh, Lucy," I said, sidestepping onto the parental slippery slope. "That probably just means his pants are made in China. I bet our pants are made in China, too. Pretty much everything is."

She looked relieved. "Good," she whispered, "because I tucked them all in bed tonight, but I think they're planning to have a party after we go to sleep to celebrate being in their new home."

I'd honestly love to know what other parents do in these kinds of situations. I feel that imaginative play is crucial to a child's development. I think if you don't allow kids to develop quality inner resources, they'll fill that space with meaningless junk instead. Plus, it's so much fun.

There you have it. People in the bookcase. Come over and play with us sometime. And don't let anyone tell you they're not real.

A New Experience

2011-01-14T08:33:00.003-06:00

The January book for the book club I belong to was Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski. It's a memoir of two college guys who, with the support of their families and churches, became homeless for five months--in various cities--in order to get a close-up view of that world.

I began Under the Overpass one evening and put it down before I went to sleep; however, I woke up around 2 a.m. and knew I still had an appointment with that book. I went downstairs to the couch to read until I fell asleep again--I didn't until I had finished the entire book.

Before the book even begins, the forward is written by Francis Chan, author of Crazy Love, a book that swept the evangelical world a year or two ago. Darren just read it and said, "This is one of those books that I need to reread every month or so."

I wasn't too sure what to expect when I began Under the Overpass, but what I didn't expect was the quality writing, the humor, and the depth of spiritual insight these college kids had. Yankoski takes us through their world--the fear, discomfort, humiliation, anger, frustration, helplessness, yet peace and even joy that they experienced on the streets.

He dealt with the nitty-gritty (very gritty) details of how they found food and water, where they slept, how they went to the bathroom, and how they handled physical ailments. In the midst of all of it, he journaled their experience: all that they felt and thought, how they fought with each other, and what God was teaching them through all of this.

There were too many anecdotes and moments that staggered me in this book to write even a fraction of them here. Reading it was a powerful wake-up call to me personally that I have completely ignored this important people group, people who are image-bearers of God Himself: the homeless.

One of my favorite moments in the book was when Mike and his partner in this journey, Sam, went into a breakfast place to sit and rest. They sat on a couch while a couple at a table nearby received their breakfast: pancakes heaped with butter, syrup, Nutella, bananas, the works. The customers were so disturbed and disgusted that two homeless guys were sitting near them, that they took a bite or two of their food, then got up and left. Mike and Sam politely asked the restaurant server if they could have the abandoned food, which they did. As Mike said, they were the best pancakes they had ever eaten, and he immediately thought of Psalm 23:5 "You prepare a table [of pancakes!] before me in the presence of my enemies."

There were a couple of moments in the book where I felt the guys' passion got in the way of their clarity, and I don't feel that they dealt enough (they did discuss it some) with the fact that a high percentage of homeless people are mentally ill--and all of the additional complications that factor brings. There was also a time or two when they were a bit disingenuous--they were pretty hard on church people, and rightly so, but he pointed out at least once when they came to church, people left a pretty wide berth around them rather than sitting by them. Dude. It's because you hadn't showered for five weeks.

Overall though, it is an incredible memoir.

There's a song I currently hear on the radio a lot, by Matthew West called "My Own Little World." Each time it comes on, especially after reading this book, I listen carefully to the words.

In my own little world it hardly ever rains
I’ve never gone hungry, always felt safe
I got some money in my pocket, shoes on my feet
In my own little world
Population: me

There were two key things that stuck out to me from the book, and that is the first one--how population: Me I can be most of the time. As I spent that night reading the book, I became acutely aware of soft my couch is. How at regular intervals, the heat kicked on. How, if I were thirsty, I could walk into the kitchen and pick from an array of beverages and not have to walk for two miles just to get some lukewarm water.

That is something I will change in my life. Instead of grumbling about my car, which each day seems to have some new malfunction light come on (Darren and I now joke about it--"Let's count all the things that are wrong with our car!"), I will appreciate that I have a (semi) reliable vehicle that gets me where I need to go, has heat, (even heated seats!), airbags, etc. Instead of inwardly groaning about the expense of taking Elaine to the doctor again--Lucy asked this morning, "Is every Friday now Elaine's ear doctor day?" Well, yes. It kind of is.--I will give thanks for medical insurance and good doctors who are trying to help us.

I will also stop praying the basic "rub-a-dub-dub-thanks-for-the-grub-yay-God" rattle-through prayers before I eat, and truly thank Him for the good food He's given me and that I haven't had to either a) dumpster dive for it, b) eat some stranger's leftovers, or c) stood for 2 hours outside a shelter only to be told they've run out of food.

As Mike Yankoski says in the one line that grabbed me more than all the others in the book (and there were many) "Be ever-suspicious of your comfortable lifestyle."

The other main takeaway from the book for me was: what does God want me to do about this?

I love these lines from the Matthew West song:

Father, break my heart for what breaks Yours
Give me open hands and open doors
and put Your Light in my eyes and let me see
That my own little world is not about me

So, last night, for the first time, I had the opportunity to go with a group from our church and serve dinner at the homeless women and children's shelter here in our city.

As I stood behind a long table, serving salad, I kept thinking about what Mike said in the book: "Look at people in the eye. Smile at them. Remind them (and you) that they are worth something in God's eyes." Looking at people in the eye and smiling at them is not always easy for this introvert to do. Some of the ladies looked back at me and smiled, but some hung their heads and never met my eyes. I prayed for them--that they would see their worth to Him; and I prayed for myself and my girls--that God will break our heart for what breaks His.

If you choose to read this book, no doubt it will change you, too, though maybe not in the same ways it has changed me. God doesn't aspire for all of us to be identical and do the same work. But both of these--the book and the song--have brought me to the verse that I'll be memorizing this second half of January:

Ephesians 5:10 "Figure out what will please Christ, and then do it."

A Second Chance

2011-01-11T09:20:00.008-06:00

A number of years ago (like, maybe a decade now?) I was offered the opportunity to teach writing and literature in the adult studies program of a university. I was coming fresh out of graduate school, and I had a lot of leeway in designing and shaping the curriculum I taught. For the most part, I had good students who wanted to work and learn and came to class ready to discuss. There were a few bad apples, but overall, it was a great and positive experience.

I employed a fair bit of creativity in my classes, and my mantra to the students was that you'll never learn how to write unless you learn how to read--and read a lot. So, I assigned loads of extra reading, and I had students asking me to make up reading lists for them; one who wrote on my evaluation how much he enjoyed the close because he had "never read a hole [sic] book before;" another who wrote me a lovely recommendation and said that because of my class, he was going to start reading a book a month.

Eventually I stopped teaching because I was also working full-time in publishing and I had Lucy, but I was flushed with my success and had a good opinion of my own teaching skills. I knew how to teach, I knew how to write curriculum, students were successful...it was all just so awesome.

Oh Proverbs, why was I not reading you on a daily basis? Say it with me now, "Pride goes before a fall," or I absolutely love how the Message says it: "First, pride--then the crash."

In 2009, I decided that with the girls a little bit older, I was ready to get back into teaching again. I applied at our local community college, and they were happy to give me a class: Composition 101. I'd taught Comp 101 AND designed it, even though they hired me on Friday and the class started on Monday, why, what a walk in the park! Bring it! I could do this in my sleep!

As Louis the Alligator says succinctly in "The Princess and the Frog,": It didn't go well.

And for those of you who like visuals, here's basically what it looked like:

Do you need another one?
All of my creative ideas did not work. None of them. Not one. The students looked at me with blank faces. I couldn't figure them out--what made them tick, how to help them learn. I could tell from their papers that I wasn't doing an effective job. I had two learning disabled students in class, and I was not equipped to handle the one in particular. Not only was she learning disabled, she was socially disabled and she disrupted the class every single session (oh, and she never missed class either). I didn't know how to handle her outbursts and her needs vis a vis the rest of the class.

I remember trying to get the class to read a story, a funny story written on a 9th-grade level, out loud. It was so awful, I can't even begin to tell you how awful it was. It was one of those moments where you sit there, feeling the muscles in your neck tighten, the blood rush to your face, and your whole body become rigid with shame. And disgrace. The kind where you just imagine yourself as being anywhere but where you are right now: Hawaii. Bed, Bath, & Beyond. Whatever, as long as you're not here. Seriously. So. Bad.

After the seemingly never-ending semester was finally over, I vowed I would never do that again. I was resentful of the students and the school and teaching and everything about it. No way.

But now, here I am, a year and a half later, and circumstances have brought me both to a new university and...back to the community college, the scene of my epic fail.

At Thanksgiving, Darren and Joseph and I went to the movies, and here's a sampling of our dialog during the previews. A commercial came on for the DVD of that Julia Roberts' movie "Eat, Pray, Love." The voiceover said something like, "Do you have the courage to look in the mirror and face some hard truths about yourself?"

Joseph said, "I am so glad I escaped ever having to see this movie."

I said, "Why in the world would I want to do that? Isn't that what marriage is for--having someone else always pointing out hard truths about yourself? When's Harry Potter coming on anyway?"

Even though I didn't bother to rent that movie, it is time to look in the mirror and face some hard truths about myself. I've got so much to learn. I was way too confident in my abilities. I don't know even a tiny fraction of everything. I need to start from scratch and work from the ground up.

So for the past month or so, I've been working hard on two different curricula I'll be teaching--one starting in January, one in June. I looked at everything that went wrong before and designed things differently. Nothing fancy--just solid, basic elements they can hopefully use and remember. I talked to the director of the program at the community college so I could find out about the students there. She told me that they're coming from our pretty much awful public school system where they aren't even allowed to take their books home from school. They don't know how to write.

I attended a workshop on Saturday to learn how to be a writing coach in the writing center. There were a number of people a lot younger than I am with maybe fewer years of teaching, but I presented myself as a novice and asked for their help. They kindly gave it, and I got a lot of great tips--things I can use to actually help people. I've had to learn two new online systems, too.

I know things this second time around won't be perfect, but it has all been a great lesson in humility for me. I hope I'm becoming a better listener. I hope I'm becoming a better learner.

A good teacher should be a good student, too, I guess. And hopefully this time, instead of a Proverbs "first, pride--then the crash," experience, it will be a more James 4 experience: "God sets Himself against the proud, but He gives grace to the humble."

I need it!

A New Look

2011-01-09T19:45:00.008-06:00

The following pictures were taken by Lucy. She was so excited that I asked her to do this little photographic project, since she's not ever allowed to touch the camera.

"I can do this because Dad's working and Snoggy [one of Elaine's many nicknames] is too little. It's because I'm the OAFM."

"What's an O-A-F-M?" I asked.

"Oldest Available Family Member," she answered.

So, my dear little OAFM took this before picture of me. With starting a new job next week, I was sick of the hairstyle I've been wearing for at least the last four years. Here it is (on the particularly bad day you have when you visit the hairstylist in desperation).

Elaine wanted to be part of the picture taking, too, and started crying because I wouldn't let her. It was the type of crying for which Darren has coined the term "Wally Boolie." (If you need the exact pronunciation, just call him.) It means "fake crying." When it's especially ridiculous, he calls it "trumped-up wally boolie."

So, here we both are with our trumped-up wally boolie faces (she looks more satisfied that she weasled her way into the picture taking).

And now, ta da! My new cut and color. Now of course at some point in life I've had this haircut before. But it's been about 10 years. If you have short hair, you know you just shuffle through a handful of hairstyles every few years.
And here we are happy. No wally-boolie!

When I came home from the salon, the girls wanted to touch and smell my new haircut (they always do), and Lucy said, "Mom, you even look taller with your new hair!"

There you go--new look for a new year!

Why I Have the Praise Music Turned Up Loud Today

2011-01-06T11:47:00.005-06:00

Remember my post on As Our Own from a couple weeks ago? Shortly before Christmas, they posted on facebook to please pray for two little girls they were attempting to rescue from India's red light district--hopefully to be done by the new year.

On December 29, they posted that one little girl had been rescued, and today they posted the second little girl was just rescued also.

Awesome. Just...awesome.

Happy tears.

God answers our prayers!

If you think of it, keep praying for these little girls as they adjust to their new life with As Our Own, and also those who risk great personal danger to retrieve them.

So...you know I've got Travis turned way up today--or this one, too!

Who Is Going to Watch This With Me?

2011-01-05T09:49:00.003-06:00

I learned that this was upcoming last fall, and it is basically the only thing that can make January palatable for me.

The only little blot on my happiness is this article from The Daily Mail, which claims that two hours have been cut from the production because we Americans are too dumb to understand it in its entirety. Now, I am the first person to admit that 95% of American TV is trash, but that's just rood. AND, they negelected to add that the production is shown here on PBS, which has no ads, while it ran on ITV in Britain and had two hours of ads. And also that PBS viewers are SMART and can follow a British serial, no problemo.

Here's a rebuttal article.

Anyway, I hope you watch this too so it can be the bright spot in all of our January. "Downton Abbey" will air on Sunday nights--January 9th, 16th, 23rd, and 30th.

New

2011-01-03T08:57:00.004-06:00

I like things that are old. I like old houses, old books, old clothes, old movies, old friends. I'm not crazy about new situations or meeting new people or trying new things. I'm not into spontaneity or stretching myself.

The new year is something I don't have much of a choice about though. Time is moving on, and I'm required to move with it. Most blogs are talking about new year's resolutions or goals for the new year. I'm tempted to find some really attainable goal for myself, something like, "I will not let it bother me when I don't tear off a big enough piece of dental floss and have to start over again."

I got my new calendar/planner the other day, and I sat down with my old calendar and the new one, side by side, to flip back through what had happened in 2010 and write down things for 2011. I wanted to see what date the girls had their pediatrician check-up so I would schedule it for the right time according to our insurance, and I saw that they had gone the morning of June 16, the day my mom died. I had written "Mom" on that date, and "Mom" on the date we buried her, and "Mom" on the date we had her memorial service, and as I read the dates I felt as I have felt so much of 2010--paralyzed.

Here's the thing--I know that losing your parents is the natural order of things. My mom lived a wonderful, beautiful long life, and I will always miss her--she's my mom. But she was so much more than a mom to me--she was my mentor, my spiritual director. When I needed help, when I needed clarity, when I needed direction, I could ask my mom. And now that she's gone, I feel unsure a lot of times; I try this tactic and that tactic, then, when clearly none of the tactics are working, I think, "How can I go on without her? What am I going to do? Help me, Jesus!"

Before Christmas I decided to bake, for the first time, my mom's secret recipe Christmas cookies. She had written out the recipe for me, and I followed it to the letter (I'm not very good at following directions to the letter, but I wanted these to be perfect--exactly like she would make them). Then next thing I knew, I had a lump of something that was harder and stronger than cement. I have no idea what went wrong, but it was awful and became a concrete-like metaphor for the missing ingredient in my life--Mom. I went down to the laundry room (because no one in our family goes to the laundry room--trust me on that), fell to my knees in the middle of the unfolded laundry, and cried and cried.

There's this poem that I memorized years ago that has somehow stayed etched in my memory--"Funeral Blues" by W H Auden--and the last stanza says:

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

That pretty much says it for me. I used the word "paralyzed" above, and that's how I have felt inside--while all of life has moved on, I'm still kneeling beside her grave, thinking, "How can I go on? What is there for me? I could have half my left life still, and what is the point of it all? Who will tell me where I belong and what I should be doing?"

But as I knelt down in the laundry and as I filled out this new year's calendar, I have heard His still, small voice saying, "It's time to get up now. I've got plans for a future and hope for you. I'm still here. I'm not leaving. The 'help me, Jesus' tactic is the best one, anyway."

Some people, instead of choosing resolutions or goals for the new year, choose a word. One word, something they focus on for the whole year in a variety of ways--once they choose the word it seems to permeate whatever they do. I didn't choose a word for myself this year, but it seems as though God has chosen one for me.

New.

It's going to be a year of new experiences, new people, new things--that stretch me and challenge me and pull me up and cause me to call out, "Help me, Jesus!" I can dread them and I can fight them, I can stay curled up in the laundry room where no one wants to be, or I can consider Abraham, who didn't know the next direction his feet were supposed to step, but he kept stepping and believed the Lord so it was counted to him as righteousness.

My first new thing for the new year is to join the LPM blog's Scripture memory team. We learn two verses a month, of our choosing. We check in on the 1st and 15th with our name, city, and verse--and it is so phenomenal to see over 6,000 verses come streaming down through the comments. Beth's instructions are to keep it simple and keep it personal, or as she says, "try to refrain from memorizing Scriptures that you think your spouse or your children need to learn. Memorize what you need to learn. That means do your best to avoid jotting your verse on a stick note and planting it on your bathroom mirror where your man can see it and repent of his sins. He probably won’t because he’s got your game. I bet you can guess how I know that."

I know I'll have other new things this year to share with you--I've got some I already know about, but I know some will be complete surprises to me. Feel free to hold me accountable as to whether I'm dragging my feet on them or stepping like Abraham. I'll share my verses every two weeks here, too.

Here is mine for January 1, 2011:

Jeremiah 31:22b "God will create a new thing in this land: A transformed woman will embrace the transforming God!"

New.

New.

Stuff for a New Year

2010-12-31T10:25:00.016-06:00

Here are some items on both my reading and listening queue for the new year. I'm feeling lazy and about to take the girls to the movies, so I'm just posting pictures and titles.

First, a few books:

Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski

The Space Between Us by Thrity Umrigar
A Duty to the Dead by Charles Todd

Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxes

It's No Secret by Rachel Olsen

And, some music:

"All This Time" Sting

"American Songs" Josephine Cameron (thanks, Melanie!!!)
"Year of Grace" Robin Mark
"Music for Compline" Various
"Yours Truly" Natalie MacMaster
I'll have another post later about what to watch this year because I'm too excited about it just to tack it on the end here. However, PBS is rerunning this on Sunday night, which, if you haven't already seen it I can only ask: why not? Start the year with quality viewing. For me.

See you in the new year!

Holiday Things

2010-12-28T13:37:00.002-06:00

This is one of those, if you care please read and if not feel free to skip posts. Sometimes reading people's blogs is like peering in their front windows, which I love to do in a nosey, yet non-creepy way but if that's not your thing, I totally get that. So, with that, here's what our holiday weekend looked like.

On Thursday the 23rd, I had to take Elaine to her ENT appointment in the afternoon because her eardrum ruptured for the second time in two months, and now she was crying about her other ear, too. We got there and I had to fill out all that paperwork that you do, and three of the worst-behaved little boys (all in the same family) I have ever seen in my life came in. The whole waiting room was in an uproar, and even one of the nurses stepped in and told one of them to knock off whatever mayhem he was causing. One of them took Elaine's Bitty Baby, and when she politely asked for it back, he dropped it on the floor after spitting on it. (We scrubbed her with a Lysol wipe when we got home).

Finally the nurse called Elaine's name, and we virtually ran out of the waiting room. The doctor looked in her ears and throat and told her to say "ahhhhh," which she never does because I think she feels stupid doing it and secretly I can't blame her, though while she's refusing I'm always giving her the stank eye to just.do.it. Finally the doctor said, "I'm going to tell Santa on you," and when he left the room she looked at me and said, "That guy doesn't know Santa."

On Christmas Eve, I felt horrible for some reason, but we were hosting Christmas the next day so I followed my mom's timeless advice to just "work it off" and pushed on through. Darren took the girls to the Christmas Eve church service in the afternoon, and when they got home I found Elaine, sitting by herself in the living room and crying silently because her ear hurt so bad.

But we pulled it together and had our traditional Christmas Eve picnic of eggs, bacon, and monkey bread in front of the fireplace while the girls debated whether or not Dad is actually Santa and if he's been down our fireplace before or not. Not if you don't say "ahh" at the doctor, I guess. We hustled them off to bed and, remarkably, they fell asleep right away while Darren wrapped the presents he bought them. I wrapped mine ages ago, but he works better under pressure. We watched "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 34th Street" until I fell asleep and then Elaine came in to my bed at midnight, crying about her ear. Darren hadn't even come to bed yet, so when he did I told him, "If you want any rest at all tonight, I recommend the guest room." That was sage advice because she kicked and thrashed and moaned and woke up at least every hour, crying with pain. It was kind of awful.

We woke up for good around 6:30, and she spent the day walking around with her head tilted to one side. The girls ran down to see what was in their stockings, and my family started arriving around 10:00. As soon as the cars pulled in the driveway, the girls were all, "Can we open the big presents now?"

So for the next 30 minutes or so, it was happy chaos, I'm sure just like where you live, especially if you've got little kids. There were dolls and and E-Z Bake Oven and a Strawberry Shortcake remote control car and books and clothes and, their favorite present of all--they each got their own diary from Darren. Lucy's even has a lock and a little key. She ran away to write in it immediately, then showed it to all of us because it was all about how she, Lucy, had been holding Tuppence, and Elaine started her new Dora motorized toothbrush and startled Tuppence so that she jumped out of Lucy's arms, scratching her in the process, and now Christmas Day was essentially ruined because of Elaine. And the flyleaf to the whole book is inscribed, "Elaine is mean."

After everyone left and we got the girls in bed, Darren and I dismantled the Christmas tree and put it out on the curb while watching a documentary on John Gotti. It was a precious holiday moment together.

The next day we travelled to Darren's family. We met for dinner at this place called Fairview Farms, which serves food family style--food as in fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn fritters, and chicken noodles (those are just in the winter time. I like the noodles as an accompaniment to mashed potatoes). As Darren always says, it was a "strap on the feedbag" moment.

When we went back to their house, it was another present opening time--this time Skechers for both girls (their favorite present there), more clothes, a whiteboard, lots of Polly Pockets, and I can't even keep track of what all. They had a blast playing with their cousins--Drew (10), Ryne (9), and Joseph (4). I love those guys--it's just a whole new world for me, being around boys and everything Star Wars. I like to call Joseph "Ruff Ruffman" for the sole pleasure of hearing him say, "My name's not Wuff Wuffman!"

We got all the kids to bed late, but that didn't stop my girls from being up before 5:00 a.m. until the Swift Hand of Justice aka Dad visited their room. Then they were quiet until 7:00.

We came home by Sunday evening and all the Christmas decorations and junk that were still out was driving me crazy, so I pulled everything down, boxed it up, and put out all my regular books and china and candles and such. I created a minor firestorm on facebook proclaiming my achievements because I guess a lot of people don't believe in doing that before New Year's. I would go mental if I had to wait that long. It's over, people. Let it go.

Now we're home and on winter break. The girls are playing with all their toys and watching their new movies. I'm going to organize their bookcase and mine, and I have the lofty goal of trying to teach Elaine to read. She's dying to begin because every where we go and every conversation we have is punctuated with things such as, "Mom, what does E-X-I-T spell?" etc.

Later this week I'll try to post some lists of things I'm planning to read, watch, and listen to in the new year.

Hope your holiday was lovely, too!

Christmas Quiz

2010-12-23T17:52:00.002-06:00

1.What is your one favorite dish to see on the table at Christmas dinner?

The stuffed celery my dad makes or the strawberry-pretzel jello salad my mother-in-law makes

2.Do you have a Nativity scene? How many pieces does it have?

We bought two and combined a bunch of the pieces so we could have extra animals and an angel (which didn't come with one of them). So, in previous years it was 15 pieces, but this year we found a tiny, fuzzy black cat that Elaine put near the manger. I guess one of Yo-Yo's ancestors is representing.

3.What is your favorite Christmas movie?

"The Shop Around the Corner" (with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan)

4.If you and your family could spend this Christmas in another country, where would you go?

Barbados. Kind of like England, except warm!

5.Have you ever gone out of the house wearing a reindeer headband? What about a Santa hat?

Anyone who knows me knows the answer to this is "no."

6.Do you usually make or buy your Christmas gifts?

I buy them. I'm not good at making things. Except this year, I made the cookies that my mom has made every single year since we were babies, and I'm giving a tin of them to my brother for Christmas.

7.When do you set up your Christmas decorations? When do you take them down?

The day after Thanksgiving, and I would take them down Christmas afternoon if I could, but usually it's the 26th or 27th that they actually come down. A friend of mine got mad at her husband on Christmas Eve one year and pitched the tree out over the balcony. Now THAT'S what I call undecorating early.

8.Which of the Gospels gives your favorite account of the Christmas story?

Most everyone says Luke, but mine is John. That's what my dad read to us every year, and now I would be disappointed if he didn't. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father--full of grace and truth." Awesome!

9.Do you buy Christmas presents for your pets?

This is kind of sickeningly American and I feel guilt about it, but...yes. Not anything extravagant though.

10.What is your favorite Christmas tradition?

On Christmas Eve, the girls and I make monkey bread together. Then for dinner we have omelettes, bacon, and monkey bread as a picnic on the floor in the living room in front of the fireplace. Then when they go to bed, Darren and I watch all the Christmas concerts on PBS while we wrap presents.

11. What is your favorite Christmas carol?

"In the Bleak Midwinter," by Christina Rossetti

Merry Christmas from Guilford Road to you, my dear Readers!

My Best Books of 2010

2010-12-22T05:22:00.001-06:00

My new year's resolution for 2010 was to write down every book I read, which I kept up through about March or April maybe. So, I'll be lowering the bar on any resolutions I make for 2011. I estimate I read 90-100 books per year, and I can't remember what they all are for the life of me. However, here are a few of the best, those that stood out for me, not in any particular order.

1. The Broken Teaglass by Emily Arsenault
Combination mystery/coming-of-age story set at a lexicographer's. I really loved this.

2. The Ghost at the Table by Suzanne Berne
Family drama interwoven with facts and anecdotes about the Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) family.

3. Scars and Stilettos by Harmony Dust
The subtitle of this is "the transformation of an exotic dancer," and that's what it is. Fantastic book; I could not put it down.

4. Across Five Aprils by Irene Hunt
I've been meaning to read this book for years but never have until this summer. What I was missing! The true story of five years in the life of a young boy living in Illinois during the Civil War. Two of his brothers went to fight--one for the Union side, the other for the Confederacy. The incredible things that happen make you think this is fiction, but the book was carefully reconstructed from the journals of the author's great-grandfather. Keep the Kleenex by you while you read.

5. Mrs. Bridge by Evan Connell
I have to steal this bit from an amazon reviewer: "When I finished this book I started raving about it to all my friends. 'What's it about?' they asked. 'Um, this housewife in Kansas City.' 'Yeah, but what happens?' 'Er... nothing really. She gets married and has kids and they grow up.' But trying to summarize Mrs. Bridge cannot evoke the brilliance and heartbreak of this novel." Yup. What he said.

6. Salvation on Sand Mountain: Snake Handling and Redemption in Southern Appalachia by Dennis Covington
I wrote a whole blog post about how much I loved this book, in case you missed it.

7. Out of My Bone: The Letters of Joy Davidman by Don King (editor)
Collection of Joy Davidman's (aka Mrs. C.S. Lewis) letters. As I was reading, I kept thinking I would turn out the light and go to sleep but would then say to myself, "Just one more letter!" Besides being fascinating, I identified so much with Joy. Can't wait to meet her someday!

8. Solitary by Travis Thrasher
Wrote about it here.

9. While We're Far Apart by Lynn Austin
I got this book in the mail, and from the back cover it sounds like a love story, so I was all, "Meh," but it's also set during World War II, so at least part of me was like, "yay!" so I took a chance and read it and am so.glad I did. I guess there's somewhat of a love story, but really it's a story of family and loyalty and of how God is working all the time, even when we're not seeing it.

10. Too Small to Ignore: Why the Least of These Matters Most by Wess Stafford
I saved the best for last. Honestly, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, just typing the title. If you haven't already, please, please read this incredible memoir by the founder and CEO of Compassion, Int'l. One amazon reviewer writes, "This book is a marvel of leading one up the garden path, at the end of which is an uncaged tiger." So true. I cried with both pain and joy at this. It is one of the most amazing stories of forgiveness and redemption I've ever read. I'm giving it to my dad for Christmas (he doesn't read this blog!) I wish every pastor, every teacher, every Sunday School worker, every missionary, every parent, every adult, everyone who's ever been hurt, everyone who ever needed to forgive someone, everyone who's ever felt overwhelmed by suffering, everyone who has ever been disappointed with God, everyone everyone everyone would read this. If you read any book in 2011, let it be this one.

There's my list. I've got a stack of books already that I'm planning to read in the coming year, but I'd love some recommendations, too. What were some of your favorite books this year?

Do you see a resemblance? I DON'T.

2010-12-21T11:13:00.007-06:00

First, here's your "Where's Yo-Yo?" moment for today. Besides climbing in a box of presents, he also climbed into the drawer where I keep tablecloths.

The girls woke up on this second day of Christmas break and said, "Mom, won't you play with us today? We haven't had any Mama Time lately."

I said, "Yes. The first thing we will play is called 'Clean the Basement.'" They were less enthused about that than you would think. Huh. But we played that for awhile, and when it was clean I helped them make sock puppets out of the kit my dad gave Elaine for her birthday. We celebrated her birthday again this past Sunday with my family, and now each morning she thinks she's going to get more presents.

Then, since I had given Elaine both her and my favorite Disney cartoon for her birthday, "The Princess and the Frog," and we've been watching it a lot, they wanted to play that.

"Who do you want to be, Mom?" asked Lucy.

"Tiana," I said promptly, because she is the smartest, sassiest, hardest-working Disney princess ever.

"Noooooo," she said, "Pick somebody else." Clearly the role of Tiana was taken.

"Then I want to be Charlotte LeBoeff. She's cute and funny," I said. (She's the blonde on the right.)

"No," Lucy said again. I guess Charlotte was also taken.

"You get to be Mama Odie!" she said excitedly, clearly trying to sell me on the idea.

Are you kidding me?

Sigh. So, I better get back down to the hopefully-still-clean basement and assume my role.

At least she didn't make me be Ray.

What Is Underneath My Christmas Tree?

2010-12-17T08:35:00.002-06:00

As Our Own

2010-12-14T08:17:00.004-06:00

A few years ago, I was driving home from work and listening to the radio. The host was interviewing a gentleman named Ralph Borde about the organization he founded in India, called Charasia (I've posted about them before). Their mission is to rescue little girls (as young as 6. Six. The age of my own girls.) from prostitution. Since that day I heard Ralph on the radio, it has been our family's joy to support this organization in prayer and now financially, also.

This past week, Charasia had an exciting announcement--they are changing their name to "As Our Own," because it is their mission to love these precious girls and treat them just as our own.

I was going to do a whole post about it because I am so pumped about this organization, but a new member of the board of directors, Amanda Jones, wrote a much better one here. On hers, you can see a picture of the beautiful little girls, too.

It's difficult to read about As Our Own and not want to be a part of it. If you're on facebook or Twitter, you can join their page and get updates and see videos of this fantastic ministry (here is one, and there's another one on their page). Even if you're supporting other organizations or are strapped financially now, Ralph, all the staff of As Our Own, and the children can use your prayers. I've added their site to my blog roll, too.

Each year for Christmas, we give a donation in each of Lucy and Elaine's teachers' names. We've given to Samaritan's Purse, World Relief, etc. This year, our donation for each will be to As Our Own--to let others have the joy in sharing in a part of these precious girls' futures along with us.

And I have to throw in that Ralph is a graduate of a great school. I won't mention the name. But it's the one with the highest percentage of graduates in ministry. You know, that one I graduated from. C'mon, you know you want to sing the song with me now (Juliet, Ann-Marie, Alysa, Kacie, et al): "God bless the school that D. L. Moody founded..."!

Birthday Weekend

2010-12-13T10:46:00.017-06:00

Since Elaine talks about her birthday every day, I asked her a month or so ago what she would like to do for a party. Normally, we have a family party and maybe something special--like go to a movie with a friend--rather than a big "friend" party. But on certain years, such as when you turn 5, you get to have a party.

"Well," she told me, "I want Mrs. Hogan, Ms. Deb, Ms. Kittie, Mrs. Pope and Derek and Dylan, Mrs. Brauns and Mary Beth, Lily and Keelyn, Jack and Andrew, and all the Villacortas." That's quite a list there, with a lot of adults thrown in, when I was expecting her to just list a few friends from school. So I decided that we'd have an open house, and the kids could decorate cookies and make cards while the adults mingled and did crowd control.

The morning of the party, Elaine woke up with a bad attitude. I gave her a little attitude adjustment, but then she came into the bathroom where I was getting ready, holding Catty close to her and laid down on the bathroom floor. OK. This is not surprising. Every time there is some sort of big event, somebody gets sick. She didn't seem too bad though, so I gave her some Motrin and went ahead.

At 2 o'clock, her friends started arriving. The party started out quietly at first. Here are children, decorating cookies.

This little doll is Elaine's friend Keelyn, from school.
These are her cookies. I bet her parents were real happy when they got her home after the party.

Here are my future sons-in-law, Jack and Andrew. Their mom and I have a deal, except she told me that some little girl had the temerity this week to say she's going to marry Jack. I said, "Oh, we will take her down." Dibs on these boys.
When the party started, it was pouring rain, which then turned to snow. But then more people started to arrive, and kids abandoned all sedate activities and just ran around the house.

Here is our dear friend Kathi and her two boys, Derek and Dylan. Kathi was Lucy's first Sunday School teacher and babysitter. Derek loves to eat...anything. At the party, he ate two handfuls of cat food.
Here's Elaine and her beloved Ms. Kittie (Kay Lynne):
Elaine and Mrs. Brauns, who pretends to be a cat with her:

Elaine and Mrs. Villacorta, who E has adopted as her second mom:
Elaine and Lucy with Sarah, Stephen, Isabella, Andrew, and Lucho. Elaine made me call them two times to make sure they were coming:
Her teacher, Mrs. Hogan, and her Sunday School teacher, Ms. Deb, couldn't make it, but they both called her to wish her a happy birthday.

I just love that she has had these wonderful adults in her life who have reached out to her--especially in this year that's been hard for her--and that she wanted to invite them all for her birthday. It was a great party, and afterward, my in-laws drove through the snow, just to deliver her presents--clothes and a pink Barbie VW Beetle with doll to drive it.

Sunday, which was her actual birthday, Elaine was pretty wiped out. She woke up with an earache, a scratchy throat, and a low grade fever (I'm sure all the party guests are loving me for exposing them to this).

It was snowing and blowing and a lot of roads were closed, so we spent a quiet day at home. Darren made everybody pancakes, and we gave Elaine our presents. We had planned a family party for the day but called it off the night before. We'll try again next week for that.

Lucy gave Elaine a Bitty Baby that we found on ebay. They currently fight all the time over Lucy's Bitty Baby, so it was time she got one of her own.

Some practical things and her favorite movie from Mommy:

A silver cat necklace from Daddy, and this is what the rest of the day looked like:

Somewhere on the day of turning 5, Elaine also discovered that she has her first loose tooth, which she now tells us about approximately every 15 minutes. She is home from school today with me, but she's at that annoying stage where she's probably not well enough to be there, but she's tired of being stuck here--birthday toys notwithstanding.

Then she told me this morning, "I think I need to have another birthday party, you know, since I was sick on my birthday." I told we are having another party soon. It's called Christmas.

I meant to write a birthday post for her with baby pictures through current pictures, but with getting ready for the party then getting up in the night to rock a sick little girl, it just didn't happen. Maybe later this week. But now...my baby is 5! AND HAS A LOOSE TOOTH!

Light in the Dark

2010-12-08T12:48:00.005-06:00

If you have read this blog for any length of time, you know we love to celebrate Jewish holidays mixed in with our Christian ones. If you want, you can read more about what we do here and here and here.

I am super busy this week, getting ready for Elaine's 5th birthday weekend, but I have still wanted to get our Hanukkah celebration in here. We missed the first night, and then Darren was going from Thursday through Saturday, so I decided we'd do it the final night.

We also prepared by reading some Hanukkah books--this was a fun one that Elaine loved. If it has animals, she's all over it. She likes animals better than people. Many days I can't argue with that sentiment either.

This is cute, by Stephen Kroll.
This next one is excellent. I'm sorry the cover art isn't coming out better, but it is titled The Christmas Menorahs by Janice Kohn.

It is based on a true story that happened in 1994 in Billings, Montana. Some white supremacist groups were harassing various people groups there, including throwing rocks through windows that had menorahs in them. This book in particular is about a young boy named Isaac who got a rock through his bedroom window. The story also contains some great history about Hanukkah and also how Danish Christians helped Jews during WWII.

The girls and I had some good talks about what it would feel like if someone threw a rock through our window, just because we had a Christmas tree or what it would be like to go to our church and see our nativity scene trashed and ugly words spray painted on the side of the building. That really brought the reality of it to them. Then I told them that these things didn't just happen in the past, that last year, someone painted hateful things on the Jewish synagogue on our very street.

The books ends with what some churches and citizens in Billings did to resist hate in their city, and I encourage you to have some Kleenex nearby while you read.

Then last night, we had our Hanukkah dinner--roast chicken and latkes. Those latkes did not stay on the platter very long, and Lucy asked for the leftover two in her lunch today. While we ate, we listened to the audio version of "Festival of Lights" from More All-of-a-Kind Family.

When we first started this last year, I wanted to make an even bigger deal out of this night--invite friends over, play dreidl games, etc., but it is really hard to cram one more big thing into December! Maybe someday though. This year I just enjoyed the moments of quiet and light with our little family.

Happy Hanukkah from us to you!

Let the Festivities Begin

2010-12-05T16:25:00.008-06:00

Saturday morning we woke up to the first snow of the year--the perfect setting for our big activity of the day. We were going to see Rome and have tea with some of her friends and their daughters, then go to "The Nutcracker" together.

I have loved ballet since I was a little girl, and I remember the first time I saw "The Nutcracker"--I was 12 years old. My grandpa died that November, and my parents found amongst his things tickets for all of us to see the big holiday production of it in Chicago. I got to invite my friend Anna too (my ballet buddy), and we spent the intermission autographing our programs with the signatures of the dancers playing Clara and Sugar Plum. (Chuck, a 14-year-old at the time, dragged along to see "The Nutcracker" with his giggly jr. high sister and her friend, autographed his program "Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.")

It was a magical night, and here I am, almost 30 years later, taking my own girls to see "The Nutcracker."

First though, we had tea at Tia's house. She is on the left, with her friend Rona on the right, and Rona's little girl, Naomi. It's Rona's first winter here from the Philippines. Poor Rona.

Then some of her other friends arrived with their little girls--Kristin and Sasha, and Nora and Aletha. It's Nora and Aletha's first winter here, too. Nora got worried because when she went outside, she couldn't feel her legs anymore. Poor Nora.

Here are all the little girls...

The mommies and the daughters and the wonderful aunt, ready to have tea...

Then we headed out to see the ballet. It's kind of like herding cats, but we all got to the theater.

My girls made sure I knew that they wanted to sit with Aletha and Sasha and Naomi instead of MOM, so all the littles sat together in a line next to all the adults.

They absolutely loved the ballet. We had great seats, and they were mesmerized by the costumes and dancing. When we came home, they couldn't wait to tell Darren and Chuck all about it. We asked them what part they liked best, and Lucy said, "I loved Clara and her beautiful purple dress and the party and the tree and oh, her mom was sooooo pretty too, and I liked those snowflake dancers and when that lady's big skirt came up and all the little kids danced out and the Arabian dancers and Sugarplum."

Elaine said, "I liked those mousies. I liked when the Mouse King skooched his tail over and shook his booty at that Nutcracker and those toys."

Darren said, "And there you have our kids' personalities in a nutshell."

It was nighttime by then, so I put the girls in their pajamas for the ride home. Lucy twirled around and sighed, "Wasn't this just the best day EVER?"

This was what we saw in the backseat as we pulled in the driveway.
So, yes. Definitely a best day!

Some Happy Friday Stuff

2010-12-03T09:54:00.002-06:00

We've got lots of Christmas music playing at our house, and of course our favorites are the actual carols--the hymns celebrating the Incarnation. We are all over Handel's Messiah too; we've got the Chicago Symphony version and my favorite, the London Symphony and Chorus conducted by Sir Adrian Boult.

I feel like I have to put that disclaimer first so you don't think we're infidels dancing around the Christmas tree to John Mellencamp singing "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" (though OK, we really like that one), because, in addition to all the beautiful Christmas carols, we have to admit we like the fun, silly stuff, too.

A year or two ago, there was a youtube video that went viral and got millions of hits. It was of an a cappella group from Indiana University. They were planning a 10-year reunion and put some of their footage from college up on youtube for the group members to see before getting together again. Then everyone saw it and they got a record deal from Atlantic and were asked to do a PBS Christmas special last year, which is now on DVD in a boxed set with two of their Christmas CDs. I bought it a week or so ago, and we can't.stop.playing.it.

These guys are fantastic, and the girls, instead of watching Charlie Brown Christmas or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer now ask to watch "those boys singing together so we can dance." I've had a few moments of "What have I done here?" since their favorite is "Hey Santa," and not the Wilson Phillips' "If we could make believe/if everyone would care a little more/there'd be harmony" one. No...this version has "Santa, don't bring me any toys/just bring my baby and a bottle of joy/maybe just a taste for Uncle Roy/'cause we all know Santa's a good ol' boy."

I just remind myself of all the Irish music my parents let us listen to growing up, and how my mom would make us skip the song on the record called "Nancy Whiskey," blissfully unaware that pretty much every song on the record had to do with whiskey or infidelity or infidelity because of too much whiskey. And we still turned out OK, right? Don't answer that.

Anyway, if you are looking for some fun holiday music with an incredible talent, you should definitely check them out. They really are fantastic. I'll leave you with the video that went all crazy on youtube, which you've probably already seen anyway, but watch it again because it can't fail to put you in a happy mood. (Of course, my favorite part starts about 2 minutes in.) Below the original, I put "Hey Santa" and one from the PBS special (to convince you that you need to get this). While I was looking for these on youtube, Elaine came in and said, "Can you turn that off your computer now and put it on TV?"

So, I give you: Straight No Chaser. Happy Friday!

Looking the Other Way

2010-11-30T15:49:00.005-06:00

The other day, I was going through my mom's desk, and I found a small box. When I opened it, I found all sorts of little figures made out of clothespins, dressed in costumes. It was a nativity scene that Mom had made with Lucy a couple of years ago. She would take care of the girls while I was at work, and one December, she and Lucy crafted a different figure or two each day that she came over.

We've also been listening to the music for the school Christmas program in the car, and I keep remembering last year--how my dad drove my mom over early in the morning, and she went to Elaine's program, though she had a hard time sitting up for very long. Then she came back to our house and laid on the couch the rest of the day until it was time to go to Lucy's program in the evening. Her face looked gray and ill, but I know she knew these were the last Christmas programs she'd see. It must have cost her every bit of strength she had to make it through that day.

There's a verse in 2 Kings that to me is one of the hardest verses in the Bible: "Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord." As in, "He loved God, and he died."

There's a phrase that is not allowed at our house (well, besides "shut up"), and it's: "That's not fair." I don't let my kids say that, ever. But in my own heart lately, I've been thinking about how Elaine's 5th birthday is coming up and the Christmas programs at church and school are coming and a little voice (mine) is saying, "She should be here. I wanted her to see them grow up. She loved God, and she died. It's not fair."

When I was growing up, my parents had this wonderful group of friends, mostly from their Sunday School class. I remember so many gatherings in each other's homes--Sunday nights after church, New Year's Day, 4th of July--seeing my mom and dad and their friends love each other and their families and love God. They would pray together and sit around the table and sing together, lots of laughing mixed in. When someone got sick, they would all rally around and bring meals for the family.

Two years before my mom died, I had a gathering of her old friends, just the women, to celebrate her 75th birthday. At the end, they all sat in a big circle and talked about old times--good times and hard times--and one of the ladies, Alice Dauchy, said, "Sometimes I didn't know how we were going to make it through. But Jesus led us all the way." And all the other ladies assented.

Mrs. Dauchy's in heaven now; she died of cancer six months before my mom.

Another friend, Muriel Holsteen, talked about how her son had met a girl in Germany and they came back here to get married. The girl didn't know a soul, and my mom threw her a wedding shower. My mom said, "Oh Muriel, I don't even remember that!" and Mrs. Holsteen said through her tears, "We have never forgotten it."

Mrs. Holsteen's husband, who was one of the ushers at our church for years and years, died a couple months after my mom.

Another good friend of my parents, Mr. Jim Stone, was our Sunday School superintendent when I was a little girl. Even in his 80s, he still taught Sunday School and took classes at a nearby seminary. He died of cancer a few weeks ago.

Last night I saw on the Moody Alumni Association that another of my parents' friends, who was also our church organist--Dr. Gil Mead--died over Thanksgiving weekend. Darren and I actually met in his Intro to Music class. A few years later, when we were planning our wedding, we asked Mr. Mead to play the organ for the ceremony. He said he didn't normally do weddings but, in his words, "I had a hand in this one!" so he made an exception.

Now, two more of my family's close friends, Annette Anderson and Larry Brown, are nearing the end of their life--cancer again. My mom and Mrs. Anderson were always on the phone and in and out of each other's houses, raising their kids together. Mrs. Anderson's son Dave works at my brother's company and is one of his best friends.

The Browns have been part of the fabric of our life for as long as I can remember. Their son Bill is a good friend of both my brother and me. My parents had a party years ago where everyone brought whatever white elephant items were lying around their house, my mom passed out Monopoly money, and she appointed Mr. Brown the auctioneer because he is the funniest--and they auctioned off their junk to each other. Yet besides his great sense of humor, something I'll remember always about him was the first time my mom had cancer, he came to the pre-op room to pray with her before she went in.

So many good friends and good memories.

"Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord."

My heart is aching for Bill and Dave, all the kids--my contemporaries--because I know now what it feels like. Nobody loves you like your parent. Nobody takes care of you like your mom. Nobody has got your back like your dad. Nobody can give you wise counsel or pray for you or love your kids like your parents can. I'm praying for them through the hurt I know they're feeling.

But I also keep thinking about all these awesome, godly people I've had the privilege to know. Alice Dauchy. Darrell Holsteen. Jim Stone. Gil Mead. Annette Anderson. Larry Brown. Lois Nichols. And lots more, too. What a treasure they have been and leave for the rest of us.

As my mom's best friend Nita wrote to me, "Heaven can't come soon enough now that Lois is there," or as another friend, Gordy, says, "The receiving line there looks a lot better than the send-off line here."

Our pastor is big on Scripture memory or as he says, "Rinsing your mind with Scripture." It's an area I haven't done well in in a long time, so it's been a good thing for me. Rinsing your mind with Scripture helps rewrite the soundtrack from "It's not fair." I write verses on 3x5 cards and either keep them on my kitchen counter or carry them around in my purse, continuing to go over them throughout the day. Get this--Mr. Holsteen did this throughout his life, and at his memorial service, his grandchildren got up and read the verses off his 3x5 cards.

So, in honor of these righteous people I love and am so honored to have known, these are the verses I've been carrying around with me lately.

Numbers 23:10
"Who can count Jacob's descendants, as numerous as dust? Who can count even a fourth of Israel's people? Let me die like the righteous; let my life end like theirs."

2 Peter 3:11-13
"Since everything here today might well be gone tomorrow, do you see how essential it is to live a holy life? Daily expect the day of God, eager for its arrival. The galaxies will burn up and the elements melt down that day--but we'll hardly notice. We'll be looking the other way, ready for the promised new heavens and promised new earth, all landscaped with righteousness."

Lather, rinse, repeat!

With Thankful Heart

2010-11-29T12:19:00.003-06:00

It's officially the Christmas season! The following piece is part of the November/December issue of Significant Living. However, because this is a value-added blog, while you read it, you can listen to the song that inspired it here. It's pretty much the most beautiful Christmas carol I've ever heard.

The trifecta of awesomeness performing it--Alison Krauss, Natalie McMaster, and Yo-Yo (the cellist, not the cat)--of course, helps. So here's the carol, and below it, the article.

---
With Thankful Heart

When the only verse of the Christmas story you identify with is “They came with haste,” it’s time to reevaluate the season.

My youngest daughter has the dubious pleasure of a December birthday. She’ll be turning 5 this year, so she is certainly at the age where it’s all about the presents. Whenever we are out somewhere and she sees something that catches her eye, she asks, “Can I have that for my birthday?” or “Can I have that for Christmas?” I have heard about either her birthday or Christmas every single day since last December 12 and December 25, respectively.

One recent Sunday on the way to church, she piped up and said, “Mom? You know how Jesus was all growed up but first He was a baby? Well, how did He get here?” A friend of ours had just recently had a baby, so I think she was trying to piece this together, since she knows Jesus is God, and wondering if He arrived in the same fashion. I gave her a suitably simple reply, she seemed satisfied with, and we went on.

With all her talk of Christmas and Jesus’ birth, though, I’m reminded of the celebrations from my childhood. We had, what seems to me, idyllic Christmases. We baked Christmas cookies with my mom; picked out the tree with my dad; decorated the house with ornaments and treasured mementos; opened our home for neighborhood and church parties; and sat around the fire, listening to my dad read us Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. We prepared certain holiday foods and recipes, listened to non-stop Christmas music—Handel’s Messiah and carols performed by the Percy Faith orchestra—and, every Christmas Eve we went to church at midnight for a candlelight service.

I know when many people think of Christmas, they think “family,” “joy,” “togetherness,” or “peace,” and, with that kind of past, I should, too. But now that I am an adult, when I think of Christmas, the first thing that comes to mind is stress.

As the season approaches, I sit at my kitchen island and begin to make lists. I have my calendar on one side to coordinate our schedule of cookie exchanges, my daughters’ Christmas programs and practices, parties, and family events (with that December birthday in the mix). On my other side, there are stacks of recipes for goodies I need to make and bring to neighbors and friends. The dining-room table is piled with my address book, cards to be written and addressed, and a stack of mail from wonderful organizations, reminding me that Christmas is the time to give and remember those in need. When I look at those, I fret about whether I’m emphasizing the importance of this enough to my children.

I’m also making lists of presents—ideas for my immediate family, our extended family, and for gift exchanges. I’m writing this list right next to our bank statement, which produces more stress! I feel trapped wanting to recreate for my children the wonderful Christmases of my youth. I want to give them the gifts they long for and the memories they will treasure. I want to go back to that place, too, where everything seemed bathed in candlelight, joy, security, and love. I can identify with F. Scott Fitzgerald’s comment about revisiting where he lived as a boy: “I realized it wasn’t the town I was longing for; it was the boyhood.”

I’ve got Christmas music playing in the background to put me in the holiday spirit, but I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. Then, suddenly, I register the lyrics of the song that is on:

Good people all, this Christmas time,
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done,
In sending His beloved Son.

I am lost in the haunting melody and beauty of the words. When was the last time I simply sat and considered “what our good God for us has done”? When was the last time I pondered that God wrapped Himself in frail, human flesh, and entered our cosmos in order to rescue us and reconcile us to Him?

“Take your son, your one and only son, the son whom you love...”

He didn’t send a military general, great warrior, or political leader. Rather, one heretofore unremarkable night, God Himself rent space and time, tearing a giant hole in the fabric of the universe while all fell silent except for the cry of an infant’s voice—the same voice that cried out “It is finished!” years later, rending the curtain that separated us and God.

God arrived in person.

The carol ends with the words, “. . .with thankful heart and joyful mind.” And, as I sit here, looking around at the lists, the recipes, the calendar, the bank statement, and the responsibilities, I picture God looking down at a pitiful world with kindness and love, a mother looking down at her newborn baby with adoration, and myself looking at my own children with tenderness of all that I want to give them. As their mother, the greatest gift I can give them is this precious truth—what God has done for us—the Gospel.

Oh, my sweet little girls—I can tell you how He got here!

Of Weddings and Feasts and Cats

2010-11-22T09:22:00.007-06:00

I've been a bad blogger lately, so this post will be an amalgamation of a bunch of stuff we've been doing.

First off, I've been out getting a job(s) as it were. My career keeps taking new turns and new directions and reinventing itself, and that's good. 2010 is the year I took to be completely engaged with my family and especially my mom; I'll never forget it. It shaped me like no other year has. 2011 will look different (not that I'm taking off from my family or anything) with regard to work. I'll be moving more into the higher education field--both teaching and coaching writing at a community college as well as developing and teaching Media Writing courses at a university. I'll be gone either in the mornings while the girls are at school or at night while they're asleep. And I'll still keep my freelance writing and editing contracts, too.

Then, there's this, that we are so, so excited about (sorry, Laura!)

When I met with Lucy's teacher at the end of October, she gave Lucy a new reading goal for the quarter. By week two, Lucy had completed 215% of her reading goal. Oh-kay. Her teacher said that she should get to read whatever she wants for fun, but we need higher level books and non-fiction. So imagine our excitement when a royal wedding is announced, and she and I can do an entire reading project together on royal weddings and CLOTHES and customs and jewelry and SHOES and traditions and CLOTHES and history and SHOES. Not to mention, I can now retrieve from my attic my exhaustive library on Princess Diana (see! Kate has her ring! Excited squeal!) Then we will both get up at some ridiculously early hour the day of the wedding and watch coverage of it for hours and hours, just like I did in July, 1981.

I'm not positive that's what her teacher had in mind when she said non-fiction, but it works for us.

Then there's more cat news. Bear with me. Remember Miss Cleo Marple, our unsocial Siamese who hated us? Alas, she is with us no more. Don't worry--she's in a good home, not a cage, where there are no children or other cats. Her behavior just got too awful, and I started referring to her as Mrs. Rochester, since she was like our insane first wife who stayed locked in an upper room. Lucy didn't even object to her leaving, since we have Yo-Yo. Darren was sad (keep remembering this is the person who never wanted a cat in the first place) and wanted me to contact the shelter where Yo-Yo came from to see if they had another nice cat we could get to replace her. So now in addition to Yo-Yo, whom we adore, we have a little stripey tiger tabby named Tuppence (after another of Agatha Christie's girl detectives, natch). I would post a picture of her if I could ever get her to sit still long enough. She zooms around and plays hide-and-seek with Yo-Yo and washes his face for him and stands at the top of the stairs and mews until he comes up, just like a domineering little sister.

Lastly, there's Elaine who had a pow-wow at school and a Thanksgiving feast. Her class all dressed as Indians and invited the other junior kindergarten class who dressed like pilgrims. My friend Kay Lynn and I went to the pow-wow to see them play their tom-toms and sing their harvest songs. Each child had an Indian name they picked themselves, and they were then introduced to the audience. All the little girls had names like, "Princess Sparkle Rainbow" and "Princess Blooming Flower."

But here is MY girl:
Here is Princess Fuzzy Cat with her best buddy Kay Lynn, aka "Miss Kittie." See how they are wearing matching leopard print, too. (And isn't Miss Kittie a dead ringer for Beth Moore? Just saying.)

Those have been a few of our doings lately. Tomorrow Joseph flies in from Tennessee, and I made the mistake of telling the girls last week that he was coming. Now I get to hear every few hours of every day, "Is it today that Uncle Joseph is coming?"

I have written about three different endings to this post, and nothing works. Obviously I better brush up on my cyclical writing skills before I start teaching them to others in January. But our household is a little more stream-of-consciousness than cyclical, so there you go, not to mention I need to ditch my computer and get going on the holiday/guest-arriving-imminently cleaning. I'll just end this with: The End (for now).

Happiness Is...

2010-11-16T08:20:00.002-06:00

...a warm cat and the funny papers. (And yes. That cat is at my breakfast table. At least he is not ON my breakfast table.)

Rich

2010-11-06T07:56:00.004-05:00

I think, at least I am hoping this is true, that when I have some distance from this particular season of our lives I'll look back and think, "Wow. That was really hard." I mean, I hope I don't look back and think, "I had no idea how easy that was in comparison to now." Because things have been difficult lately. This has been a rough year on a lot of fronts. One of the things about a blog is that, while you share stuff about your life, if you're smart and wise and value privacy, you actually won't share all that much. So when I tell you about some hard things we've had, maybe you're thinking, "That's IT? That's what you're groaning about? What a panty-waist. You've never seen trouble," but rest assured, I'm probably giving you only the tip of the iceberg.

Here are just a few things. I'm struggling a bit emotionally with the whole issue of my parents. I consider it a joy and a privilege to do anything I can to help them as they get older, and in my mom's case of course, die. But when you have great parents like mine, it's frightening to watch and daunting because they're my security. They take care of me, not the other way around. As I said to my brother, "I don't think I'm ready for this elder care stuff. You may not realize it, but I'm actually only 22 years old." He just laughed at me and said something along the lines of, "Suck it up," which is a good word for me to hear.

Here's another thing--the huge financial crash our country has gone through has not left our family unscathed. Did you ever read that short story by D.H. Lawrence called "The Rocking Horse Winner" about the house that kept whispering, "There must be more money, there must be more money"? Yeah. Sometimes I just stand and think, "You know what will be great about heaven? No money worries."

Another problem we've been having is Elaine. She's been having both emotional and physical difficulties, and I kind of think that one's causing the other but I don't know which, and it's all just a vicious cycle. Her latest issue that took us to urgent care this week is a UTI. I looked up some of the symptoms in children, and it said, "Irrational, uncontrollable behavior and a refusal to listen." And that's different from every other recent day how...?

I know part of her problem too was that she was scared about my dad. One morning on the way to church, she asked, out of nowhere, "Is Packa going to die?"

"I'm pretty sure he's not going to die right now, hon," I told her. "He's in the hospital, getting better."

"But we took Manga to the hospital, and then she died," she said softly.

All these things and more have been pressing down on us as a family. Our tempers are frayed, our patience is thin, our graciousness toward each other is non-existent at times. We find ourselves yelling at our kids and having gritted-teeth conversations with each other. It's all so discouraging.

I was in the basement recently and came across some CDs I haven't played in awhile--by Rich Mullins. I don't have words for how much I've been impacted by that man's life and music (but you know I'll try to find some, don't you?) I don't know how many times I've read An Arrow Pointing to Heaven. Rich Mullins, if you're not familiar with him, was a poet/songwriter and musician. At one point, he was one of the most commercially successful Christian musicians in Nashville, along with people such as Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith. His album, "A Liturgy, A Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band," was listed #3 in The 100 Greatest Albums in Christian Music.

Despite this, Rich Mullins chose to live in financial poverty. An accountant handled all of Rich's money, giving him a stipend to live on (in the '90s he was living on 23,000 a year). He lived in a hogan (yup, with a dirt floor) in Kansas where he taught music to Native American kids. He would run across someone who needed help, call up his accountant, tell him about the situation, and ask, "Do I have $3,000 I can give?" upon which his accountant would say, "Yes. Yes, you do have $3,000!"

I got the CDs out and began playing them again because it's been awhile, and his music has always helped me during times of trouble and here's another time of trouble so let's give it a whirl. When most people think of Rich, they think of "Awesome God," but that was actually one of his lesser favorite songs. In an interview, someone asked him which of his songs he thought was good, and he said "Bound to Come Some Trouble," one of my personal favorites.

But Darren and I have been listening to one in particular about which Darren said, "We should just start every single morning by listening to this song." Here are a few of the words:

"Everybody I know says they need just one thing
And what they really mean is that they need just one thing more
And everybody seems to think they've got it coming
Well I know that I don't deserve You
Still I want to love and serve You more and more
You're my one thing.

Who have I in Heaven but You, Jesus?
And what better could I hope to find down here on earth?
I could cross the most distant reaches
Of this world, but I'd just be wasting my time
'Cause I'm certain already, I'm sure I'd find
You're my one thing."

Listening to that song makes me ashamed. Ashamed of how I've been acting and thinking lately. Ashamed of how ungrateful and grasping for a better life I've been. Ashamed of how I've continually just wanted that one more thing that I think will make me happy and content.

Elaine and I were in the car, listening to the music the other day, and she asked me, "When I die, do I get to come back to Rockford?" She's been praying lately that God will help my mom to get better soon and send her back from heaven so she can live with us again.

We're used to having these kinds of conversations with Lucy. She's been wondering about death and God and heaven since before she was two. Elaine's never seem particularly interested until lately and is much more inclined to break in at any serious moment with, "CAN'T WE HAVE POPSICLES NOW?"

"No," I told her. "You won't come back to Rockford. You won't even want to. Heaven is the most wonderful place there is. It's so beautiful and fun and happy. Jesus is there, and Manga's there, too. She's not going to come back to us, Elaine, she's not. We're going to go to her. We don't know when, but we do know it's true."

We talked for a little bit about what heaven might be like--if there will be animals and candy there. If we can touch Jesus when we get there. And if Manga will be waiting for us to arrive.

"She is waiting for you," I promised her. "She can't wait to see her Sweet Pea again."

"I'm gonna wear my shirt that says, 'Sweet Pea' on it so I'm all ready for her!" Elaine told me.

She was quiet for a little bit, and then she said, "Mom?"

I caught her eye in the mirror and saw her little face, that's been so frustrated and frightened and irrational and angry lately--wreathed with smiles. Then she said something that even when I'm an old, old lady I'll always remember, and it's something I'm going to hang on to throughout all these days here now.

"What?" I replied.

"Mom, when I die, I don't want Rockford," she said. "I want Jesus."

Halloween Weekend, Part II: Oh, For Pete's Sake

2010-11-02T09:37:00.006-05:00

OK, I promised I'd tell you about the biggest thing that happened this week. But first you need a little background information. Really. You do.

Remember this post, where I told you about our new addition to the family, a Siamese cat named Miss (Cleo) Marple? Well, we've had her now for three months and have come to the following conclusion:

She hates us.

Specifically, she hates Lucy and Elaine and doesn't like me much either. She allows Darren to pick her up and pet her. That's about it. She runs away when we come into a room where she is. She slinks around low to the floor and hopes we won't notice her. She hisses. She bites. In short, she's the snootiest, rudest cat ever and is completely ungrateful that we rescued her from certain demise.

A few weeks ago, I had had it.

"We're giving this cat back," I told Darren (before you freak out, her foster home said they would accept her back at any time). "She's obviously not the right cat for us. She needs to be in a quiet, one-person home with no kids."

He said, "Can't we give her some more time? I bet she'll get better; just give her a few more months."

"I want instant gratification," I told him. "I just want a nice, decent cat who likes us. Is that too much to ask?"

I broached the subject with the girls. "We really need to give Miss Cleo Marple back," I told them gently. "She's frightened of us, and she's not nice to you girls. I promise we'll find you a gentle cat who loves little kids."

Lucy fell to the floor, weeping. To the floor, Readers, to the FLOOR. "Moooooommmmmm," she wailed. "You can't! You can't give Miss Cleo Marple away! It's soooooo crrrruuuuueeelll! We promise we love her even if she doesn't like us! Don't give her awaaaaayyyyy! She's had a hard life, and she neeeeeeeds us!" Sobbing ensued.

Elaine, on the other hand, marched up to Cleo. "We're giving you back to Ms Hillery," she informed her. Then she bounced into our room where Darren was. "Dad, we're giving your cat back. And we're getting a nice cat who doesn't bite me and I'm naming her Dolly Bantry." (Dolly Bantry is Miss Marple's best friend, dontcha know.)

Sigh. The drama in our house. It was ratcheted up even more than usual, and yours truly was in the Cruella DeVille role.

Finally, Darren said, "What about...if we had two cats?" Oh, for Pete's sake.

Now when we first got Miss Marple, Joseph told me, "What you really need is Hercule Poirot to keep her company," and I told him to bite his tongue.

But...I live to please these people, so I got back to work with petfinder.com, trying to find another cat whose qualifications basically were now: declawed, housebroken, and adores children and doesn't mind being loved to death and dressed up in doll clothes.

Numerous shelters told me the same thing: have you ever considered a male cat? They all said that neutered male cats were much sweeter, friendlier, and laid-back than female cats. One woman said, "Boy cats are the most loving by far. You know how needy men are."

So, a boy cat it is, though I had to do a little convincing to the girls. Meet the newest member of our family, just arrived Saturday night:

He's 7 months old. Isn't he sweet?

The girls decided to name him Yo-Yo. After the cellist, not the toy, because they love Yo-Yo Ma and also, his hair is black, just like this cat. Please insert all "Yo-Yo Meow" jokes here and get it out of your system.

Since his arrival, he's made himself at home. When you get a new cat, you're supposed to keep them confined to one room for about three days in order for them to get used to the sounds and smells of a new environment. Miss Marple took about 14 days. Well, 14 days and 3 months and still counting. Yo-Yo took about 3 minutes.

He now confidently roams the house. He jumps up on our laps and takes his naps in a chair with us. He allows himself to be utterly manhandled and carted about and hugged and kissed by two spirited little girls. Of course, he is sometimes the cause of bitter custody battles between them, and I have to intervene because at least once he was in danger of being pulled in half. When they get too much for him, he retreats to his covered litter box, which I think is the equivalent of a man taking his newspaper and hiding out in the bathroom.

He scampers around, leaping on windowsills and furniture (OK, we're gonna put a stop to that). He purrs and rubs against your legs, wanting to be picked up, and head butts you if you've stopped petting him.

In short, he's a total love monkey and ideal for us. In fact, here he is as I sit, blogging:

He also loves to sit in the kitchen, looking out the patio door because we have birdfeeders set up on the patio. His tail twitches back and forth as all the birds come. I think it's like some awesome plasma Bird TV for him.

I figure we've done enough good deeds to last us for awhile. First, did you know that of all cats, black cats are the least likely to get adopted? In fact, they have a 50% less chance of being adopted than any other cat. I guess people a) are superstitious and b) don't think they're cute enough. Yo-Yo begs to differ. (I just can't stop saying "Yo-Yo." It's too fun.) Second, we've still got Miss Snooty Marple and allow her to co-exist with us.

So there was our entire Halloween weekend, complete with the adoption of a little black Halloween cat. Named Yo-Yo.

See? Can't stop saying it.

Halloween Weekend, Part I

2010-11-01T08:27:00.009-05:00

November 1st is here, so this morning I replaced the ceramic pumpkin and ghost on the kitchen table with the ceramic turkey, and later today I'll get out our little pilgrim figures. More importantly, I scooped up most of the Halloween leftovers and put them in the freezer. This is a little mental trick I like to play on myself. They're out of sight and hopefully out of my mind, then I'll stumble across them in February or March when cleaning out the freezer (optimistically) and think, "Halloween leftovers...goodbye!"

We do what we have to do.

We had one of those weekends that was jam-packed with activities and every sentence ended with, "...and then we had candy." Elaine woke me up at 6:00 one of these mornings and asked if she could have candy. [Picture a 4-year-old tapping on my cheek relentlessly.]

On Saturday, the girls had a birthday party to go to. It was a fancy tea party at a country club, which went from 11 until 2. I had to go to the rehab hospital to pick up my dad and bring him home, but I got them as ready as possible before I left. I helped them with their showers and did their hair and told them wear their robes until it was time to get dressed. Darren said, "I don't think I can handle dressing them. Can't you put their dresses on before you go? Then they can just sit on the couch for an hour."

"Have you met our girls?" I asked him. I then reiterated to them that, for all of Daddy's wonderful qualities, he doesn't do hair, so to please not run around until it was time to leave.

Here they are--didn't he do a great job? The man had to navigate tights and shoe buckles as well as dresses.

Here is Lucy, looking so grown up and poised it takes my breath away. Where did that chubby-cheeked baby go?

When we all got home, they told me all about the tea party. I wish you could hear it in Lucy's voice, which sounds like an odd cross between mine and a Valley Girl, complete with dramatic facial expressions and hand gestures.

"MOM. It was sooooo fun. We decorated our treat bags and played a sugar cube relay and played musical chairs and I met this really nice girl named Alex but I bet her real name is Alexandra," she said, all in one breath.

"AND WE HAD A PINATA THAT LOOKED LIKE AN ICE CREAM CONE," broke in Elaine, at top volume.

"Then, GET THIS," Lucy added, "You would just DIE, Mom. We had this fancy tea with little sandwiches and blueberry scones that were sooooo yummy and cake and ice cream and the cake was pink with flowers and the ice cream was golden and looked kind of like pumpkin ice cream but it didn't taste like pumpkin ice cream and we had THREE drinks--I had all three--water, lemonade and tea but at first the tea wasn't sweet but then they passed around sugar and I took one of those little blue packets and added then and then it was sooooo sweet and tasted really good." Also all in one breath.

The next day was Halloween, and I tried to get them to settle down in the afternoon but you know that was a completely lost cause. At 5:30 (we had weird hours this year: 5:30 to 7:30), they were dressed and ready to go. Since the day after Halloween last year, Lucy has been saying she wanted to be an American Indian. Elaine wanted to be Fancy Nancy until a few weeks ago when she adamantly changed her mind and decided to be Raggedy Ann. She adores Raggedy Ann. I ordered her costume, and it just got here on Friday.

On Thursday, Katie and I took all the kids in their costumes to visit my dad in rehab, so I threw together a Fancy Nancy outfit for her then. But she was relieved that her Raggedy costume arrived in time for trick-or-treat.

Here is the back view so you can see the papoose tied to Lucy's back. (We don't have an Native American dolls. How negligent of us. So, we just used her Bitty Baby.)

And here is my dear little Raggedy Ann.

They ran around in the cold to all our neighbors and got more candy to add to their Trunk-or-Treat stash from Wednesday and the pinata stash from Saturday.

However, the most exciting part of the weekend happened Saturday night, but I'll leave you hanging until tomorrow.

I'll give you a hint though: Meow.

Scraps of Things

2010-10-27T09:03:00.003-05:00

First, I'll tell you about a new tween series I just stumbled upon at the library: The Mother-Daughter Book Club series by Heather Vogel Frederick. Currently, there are four books, the most recent just came out last month--about a group of mothers and daughters in Concord, Massachusetts, who, against the daughters' will, are forced into a book club together. Among the daughters we have Emma, the chubby bookworm; Jess, the introverted farm girl; Megan, the snobby fashionista; and Cassidy, the hockey player.

The first book runs in tandem with Little Women; the second, Much Ado About Anne, with Anne of Green Gables; the third, Dear Pen Pal, with Daddy Long-Legs; and the latest, Pies and Prejudice, with...well, I'm sure you can figure that one out. The books deal with all sorts of contemporary pre-teen issues: bullying, trying to fit in at school, loss of a parent, getting a step-parent, getting a new sibling, being embarrassed of your mom, trying to balance different types of friendship, romance, etc. vis a vis the heroines of literature and seeing how they had to deal with the same situations.

Here is a Library Journal Review of Pies and Prejudice:

"With four effervescent heroines, several budding romances, an ambitious cooking venture, and a hefty pinch of drama, Pies has instant teen appeal, even more so if readers are Anglophiles. When Emma's family announces they are moving to England for a year, the book club selects Pride & Prejudice in honor of their adventure and keeps up regular meetings via webcam. Austen fans will appreciate the character nods: Emma deflects the advances of a Mr. Collins-like oaf, Megan falls for the amiable Simon Berkeley (aka Mr. Bingley), and Cassidy spends much energy detesting Tristan Berkeley, the obvious but nonetheless enjoyable Mr. Darcy character. For teens who may not recognize these parallels, the author makes them clear with quotes at the head of each chapter, as well as pointed comparisons made by the characters themselves. With interesting facts about Austen interspersed throughout, and a visit to relevant sites in England incorporated, this book makes an excellent introduction to one of the most masterful–and popular–writers of all time. Don't be surprised if 12-year-olds start checking out Pride & Prejudice after reading this teen-tailored adaptation."

In short, the books are sweet and funny (and clean) and I wish I had written them, but my hat's off to Heather, who also has a really fun blog. I would say the books are perfect for 9 to 12-year-olds, but I bet 13- and 14-year-olds would enjoy them, too. Also 41-year-olds.

In other news, today is the last day of school for this week because tomorrow are Parent-Teacher conferences, and Friday is a teacher in-service, which is the brilliant way our school escapes the drama of Halloween every year.

I got Lucy's first quarter report card the other day, which is what we'll be discussing at the P/T conference. This is my girl who every day, when I ask, "How was second grade today?" without fail answers, "AWESOME!" I'm not worried. At the beginning of the year at the parents' open house, her teacher told us that at least in the first report card, she does not give grades above "3" (Consistently achieves the standard) or "S" (Satisfactorily meets expectations). The highest grades are 4 and E. Lucy got one 4, for her independent reading goal, and one E--in art. The rest were mostly 3s and S's.

Here was her teacher's comment: "Lucy has adjusted well to 2nd grade. She is a fun-loving and creative child. Her skills are solid at this time. She loves chatting--often at inappropriate times, which I hope to help her curb. She is delightful!"

I dunno--does this lady get my daughter, or what? I think we will have fun, "chatting" together tomorrow.

Oh and just to add--the other day, Lucy came home and said, "Mom! We rearranged our seats at school and now I'm next to Lily and Tomas so we can chat as much as we want to!" I put that as my status on facebook, and my friend Tom said, "Somehow I'm seeing Lily as Ethel and Tomas as Ricky."

Lastly, tonight is Trunk or Treat at AWANA, and the girls are supposed to come dressed as their favorite Bible character. This was their conversation coming home from church last week:

Lucy: I want to dress up as either Queen Esther or that Egyptian princess who got Moses out of the water.

Elaine: I'm gonna dress up as Eve.

Lucy: ELAINE! That means you would go to AWANA without any clothes on. Not even your UNDERWEAR.

Elaine: Oh. I do not get that at all.

I told them that I had already bought the Halloween costumes they wanted (that have nothing to do with the Bible) and I don't know how to sew, so unless they want to wrap themselves in my pashminas and be Mary and Martha, they can just wear their playclothes like always since it will be dark out in the parking lot and no one will notice anyway.

There's only so much a mom can do, can I get an amen? To go along with that, I'll leave you with this great post by my friend Alysa. Now, knowing her, she probably would whip up Bible costumes on a moment's notice...but she'd never make you feel bad that you didn't! Love you, girl!

Somebody's Knocking at Your Door

2010-10-24T21:17:00.002-05:00

A couple weeks ago, the doorbell rang. Usually when that happens, the UPS man has dropped off a box from amazon, so I went to the door to get it. Instead, it was a lady from the Jehovah Witnesses. I opened the door and listened to her talk; she read me some verses out of the Bible and gave me some literature…and promised she would come back again soon to talk with me.

When I closed the door and went back to the living room, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t said anything about what I believe. I just listened and nodded my head. I just remember growing up, whenever we saw the JWs or the Mormons canvassing the street, my mom would say, “Quick! Lie down on the floor until they go away!” I wasn’t prepared for that lady—I thought she was an amazon box. I would have lain down on the floor and waited until she went away if I had known.

Recently, a friend of mine posted something on facebook about Christopher Hitchens. I commented on his post because, wait for it, I kind of like Christopher Hitchens. If you’re unfamiliar with him, he’s one of the most famous atheists in the world today. While I disagree with many of his premises and his life philosophy, I don’t disagree with him on everything, and frankly, he’s a great writer and I enjoy reading him.

My comment on my friend’s post led to a small interchange, which led to an extensive correspondence that we took to email—because my friend is a dedicated atheist as well. Hitchens is one of his heroes.

My friend and I ended up discussing and examining each other’s viewpoints on God. We've been asking each other questions and listening to the answers. We've been having what Os Guiness calls, “civil discourse in the public square,” except it's not that public.

During our correspondence, which has been pretty extensive, my friend has been nothing but gracious and courteous, genuinely interested in what I have to say. Also—he is far better read, more intelligent, and much better at asserting his views than I am. I’m thinking if you were on the fence and you read our letters, you’d probably end up siding with him.

He has read the Bible from cover to cover. He’s also read Lewis, Chesterton, Augustine, Aquinas, Tillich, Buber, and more. Kierkegaard is one of his favorites. During the course of our letters, I felt utterly inadequate. I don’t say that for people to come around and pat me on the back and say I did a good job. I kept thinking of the verse from I Peter: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” I tried to do that, but as I said, my friend could give a much better defense for his viewpoints and beliefs than I could for mine. Honestly, I was still metaphorically lying on the floor, waiting for the doorbell to stop ringing.

At one point, he asked me this question, in lieu of my acknowledging my own occasional doubts: “But if you've had an intimate relationship with Creator of the universe, why would you ever again have reason to doubt His reality? (I know that once I've met someone, I no longer question whether that person exists.)”

Here is my reply:
-----

Yes, I do doubt sometimes. Because I am just a weak human being with an average intellect. I look around at people and think, "Am I the only person here who believes this stuff? What if I am totally deluded? Other people seem to be doing just fine without God."

Even though I have felt and known God's presence and love and goodness, I get exhausted with life and tired and wonder if it's all just some big cosmic joke.

You mentioned that you don't think the world is an awful place. I agree that this world is beautiful and is filled with wondrous things and places and people and relationships. Watching the leaves change, hearing my kids laugh, enjoying a great meal with friends...it is good, and I try to be conscious of all the good things and be thankful for them.

But two hours ago, I stood at the curb in a small town and watched as a motorcade went down the street, followed by a hearse, carrying a 19-year-old Marine who was just killed in Afghanistan. He had been there only 3 weeks. Someone handed me an American flag to hold, but I had a hard time thinking about duty and honor and freedom, when all I could think about was that young boy’s—because really that's all he was—that young boy's mom. I kept having that Kipling poem run through my head:

Have you news of my boy Jack?”
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Has any one else had word of him?”
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind —
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!

Yes. I do think this world is an awful place and though I know and love God, sometimes I wonder where He is and what He's doing and why. Also, I can't see Him.

But when I doubt, I go back to what His Word has said, as in Hebrews 4:16 "Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

Or I go to one of my favorite statements, written by St. Paul "Nevertheless, I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto him against that day."

For me, the reassuring reality is not in the strength of my grip on God. It's the strength of His grip on me.”
-----

This conversation has been challenging me to think a lot this past week. I have taken numerous courses in evangelism, systematic theology, hermeneutics, and apologetics. I don’t know if they’ve helped me much at all—not because they weren’t good classes, they were—but because they were a long time ago; I’ve forgotten a lot; and in the meantime, life has taken over, I’ve had two little kids, and I read a lot of Kipper the Dog books these days, instead of philosophy and theology to sharpen my mind and defend my faith.

But the whole interchange with my friend has brought to my mind the great 20th-century theologian, Karl Barth, who spoke and taught and wrote so eloquently and at such length, particularly on the transcendence of God. Yet when someone asked him to sum up his theology and the millions of words he had written, he answered simply this:

“Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

I don’t know how to say it any better than that.

Questions

2010-10-22T08:18:00.003-05:00

I had this blog post written in my head, all about the stress of life, and then I realized, why would you want to read about the stress of our life? I'm sure you have enough of your own. Then I saw on Anne-Marie's blog that she did some fun question thing that she was tagged for, so I'm just going to lift that idea, without being tagged. And maybe I'll change some of the questions too. So, here you go:

Given a plane ticket to anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I would go either to Cornwall, England, or to Japan. I've always been fascinated with Japan, ever since I did my country report on it in 6th grade. I'd want to tour a lot of Japanese gardens and check out lots of Japanese dolls.

Besides the Bible, what is your favorite book and why?

My favorite book (say it with me now) is Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss. I go to it for comfort or advice or inspiration. If I ever write a book, I keep thinking of it as a modern Stepping Heavenward, then I get intimidated since that's like saying writing a modern Pilgrim's Progress or something. It has so many favorite quotes of mine, but one I think of on a near-daily basis is this: "Suppose, then, you content yourself for the present with doing in a faithful, quiet, persistent way all the little, homely tasks that return with each returning day, each one as unto God, and perhaps by and by you will thus have gained strength for a more heroic life."

My other favorite book (among many of course) is L.M. Montgomery's The Blue Castle. Just because I love it. But someone needs to design a new cover for it.

Do you re-read favorite books? If so, which ones?

I'm a huge re-reader because if you have books, you have friends, and who wouldn't want to hang out with your friends over and over again? Basically, if I enjoy a book, I'll reread it again at some point. There are some I make a point to re-read every year, such as Little Women and Jane Eyre. I recently reread The Great Gatsby (pure brilliance). Some I haven't read for awhile and want to read again soon: Graham Greene's The Quiet American. Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited.

What is the biggest difference (other than gender) between you and your husband?

We're very different from each other, but probably the biggest difference is that he's an extrovert and I'm an introvert. We've both come each other's way somewhat over the last 15 years, but it still is interesting sometimes.

What is your favorite soup?

Definitely my mom's minestrone in first place, but in second place is Italian wedding soup. I have a great recipe for it that I got from my cousin's husband, Yang. I always say I learned how to make great Italian soup from a Korean guy.

If calories, weight gain or health were no object, what food would you eat all you wanted of?

Oh, you know, flax. Or alfalfa sprouts.

Actually, cake. Chocolate eclair cake. Carrot cake with that cream cheese frosting. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Poppyseed cake with caramel frosting. Cake in almost any form.

I think that's all for now, and that was much less stressful than my original post, so aren't we all thankful? I won't tag anyone to do this, but feel free to steal if you're running dry on blog topics!

School Pictures

2010-10-19T10:14:00.002-05:00

First, an update about my dad: The surgery went very well. He was in the OR from 1:30 until around 6:00, the doctor came to talk to us. He was pleased with how it went, though it will be a fairly long road to recovery. We finally got to see Dad around 8:30 at night, but of course he was completely out of it. I'll see him later today; he'll be in the hospital for a week and then in a rehab facility.

Next, here are the girls' school pictures. Forgive the poor quality--I took a picture of a picture, and not very well. I haven't figured out how to work our scanner yet, so pictures of pictures it is.

Here is Lucy Nan, 2nd grader:

And here's Elaine Frances, Jr. Kindergartner:

Both of them decked out in bows by Bowture, of course!

Belated Birthday

2010-10-18T10:02:00.003-05:00

Last Monday was Darren's birthday, but we were on our way back from Door County so we didn't make a big deal of it. And let's face it, he is not like me. He doesn't really want anyone to make a big deal for his birthday anyway. But I think he should still succumb to our ministrations and let us sing to him and buy him presents and make him a birthday dinner.

So, that's what we did yesterday evening. We all decided to meet at my dad's house because today he'll be going into the hospital for a reconstruction of his spine. I packed up the food--Italian beef, pasta salad, Mrs. Fischer's potato chips (evil, evil, addictive food item)--and the cake: orange crunch cake decorated with salted pecans to look like Miss Cleo Marple the cat, who hates all of us except Darren. More on that later. Oh, so much more.

Chuck and Rome came too, and Rome brought cinnamon rolls like my mom always made for birthdays and also apple-parsnip soup, which was made on her show this week.

We all gathered around that table for the first time since my mom has been gone. While I was setting it, I wasn't sure what to do with her place. Should I sit there? Should I leave it empty? I ended up rearranging everything so that it just wasn't there anymore. But it was OK.

After dinner, the girls were so excited for Darren to open his presents. Before we left this afternoon, Lucy had written poems on typing paper and taped them all over the patio door for him. At dinner she had a card she picked out herself at Target and written her own message. The girls and my dad all gave Darren different types of bird feeders and bird food, because that's what he wanted--basically, my dad has turned us all into bird-watcher nuts.

Elaine was doing a little dance of impatience beside him because she couldn't contain the secret of her card any longer. First, she had actually written "Daddy" on the envelop and "Elaine" on the inside all by herself. But the real reason was that when Daddy opened the card (which she did for him) it played, "Who Let the Dogs Out?" This was also something she picked out at Target. Actually, she first picked out a cat in a tutu that when you opened it, it played "Dancing Queen," but I convinced her that she probably liked that a lot more than Dad would. So, "Who Let the Dogs Out?" it is.

The rest of the evening, she would sneak up on Chuck with the card and play it because he couldn't stop singing it either. While we were doing the dishes he said, "Now I'll have that stupid song in my head forever. I just got rid of 'The Entertainer.'"

I said, "The Scott Joplin song? How did you get that stuck there?" and he said, "No, Billy Joel's 'The Entertainer,'" which called for us to belt out together:

I am the entertainer,
I come to do my show.
You've heard my latest record,
It's been on the radio.
Ah, it took me years to write it,
They were the best years of my life.
It was a beautiful song.
But it ran too long.
If you're gonna have a hit,
You gotta make it fit--
So they cut it down to 3:05.

Then we took some turns playing on the piano, and the girls begged Darren to play "Heart and Soul" with me, which he's supposed to play the plain, boring bottom part, but he always showboats and tries to steal the limelight from my showy top part.

When we got home and I tucked the girls in bed, Lucy said, "Mom, I have to tell you something I just want you to hear. You know, I think people are like llamas."

I wanted to burst out laughing because it was so random, but she was very serious so I kept it in check.

She went on, "You know how when llamas get married and one llama dies, the other one is so sad. People are like that, too. We're just better together, aren't we?"

"Yup, Luce," I told her. "People are better together."

Then Elaine piped up from her bed, "Mom, why is Packa going in the hospital tomorrow?" and I explained to her, "You know how Packa took such good care of Manga while she was sick? Well, now his back is all worn out, and he needs to get it fixed. Like when you make a tall, straight tower out of blocks, but then you knock it over? That's what Packa's back is like. And the doctors are going to make a nice, straight tower out of it again for him."

"Do we get to keep any of the pieces?" she asked.

So today, Chuck and Rome and I will be at the hospital with my dad while Darren holds down the fort here. The surgery will take about four and a half hours they say, so if you think of it, prayers are appreciated.

At least we'll all be together--we know we're better that way. And if you hear anyone singing "Who Let the Dogs Out?" you'll know why.