I don't pay much attention to the other parts of the Church calendar, but for some reason I find Lent very intriguing and motivating. Forty days set aside for a kind of fasting. When I was younger it was something we made fun of, with all of our Catholic friends giving up brussels sprouts and cabbage as their act of sacrifice. But as I grew older and was introduced to some people who actually made use of the practice as a way of growing closer to God, I started to appreciate that perhaps our Church Fathers weren't as legalistically religious and as I was brought up to believe. Perhaps they saw some actual value in spending forty days with a constant physical reminder of our need for a saviour and in spending that time in closer communion with that Saviour.
And so I began the practice of giving up all sugar for Lent. I did that for three years running, and found it incredibly difficult, as I have the biggest sweet tooth known to man. I spent the first few days in agony watching every donut, every square of chocolate, every custard cream biscuit, every bit of ice cream pass through the lips of anyone around me, wanting to reach down their throats and grab it for myself. Gradually the cravings decreased until by day forty I had sworn off sugar forever since I was by then feeling full of energy, having gotten over the highs and lows of daily sugar intake. But by April I had given in to the urge for a taste, by summer ice cream was a staple in my diet, and Christmas brought a gorging on chocolates, cakes and cookies. As another Lent rolled around I vowed to give it up again, and the cycle started again. After Christmas this year I decided to pray for some self-control, having gained nearly ten pounds in America and by eating the cookies sent home by my mom and AJ. The weight is off, and for the first time in my life I feel able to eat chocolate as a once-in-a-while treat rather than as a daily indulgence. Three years of discipline followed by gluttony conclude with the grace of some answered prayer. Is that what Paul meant about working out my salvation?
This year I didn't feel the need to give up sweets, and so I struggled to think of something that would be both sacrificial and life-giving. I came up with sacrificing sleep. Not all sleep, but a little sleep in the morning. Rather than starting the day with the children dragging me out of bed despite my protests, I've decided to greet the day before the kids wake up and spend some time with God, with my own thoughts, with my iPod and running shoes. Anything to take charge of my day rather than letting it steamroll me. Here I am on day three, a bit groggy, but trusting that the Redeemer will take my small sacrifice and bring life.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tooting my own horn
I realise that this post will officially class me as a jogger, not a runner, but I don't care.
4 miles, 40 minutes. I am so proud of me.
4 miles, 40 minutes. I am so proud of me.
All my byself
Addien is actively asserting her independence as often as possible these days, and our favourite saying around the house has become, "I do it my byself!"
Contentment
According to Easton's 1897 Bible Dictionary:
CONTENTMENT
a state of mind in which one's desires are confined to his lot whatever it may be (1 Tim. 6:6; 2 Cor. 9:8). It is opposed to envy (James 3:16), avarice (Heb. 13:5), ambition (Prov. 13:10), anxiety (Matt. 6:25, 34), and repining (1 Cor. 10:10). It arises from the inward disposition, and is the offspring of humility, and of an intelligent consideration of the rectitude and benignity of divine providence (Ps. 96:1, 2; 145), the greatness of the divine promises (2 Pet. 1:4), and our own unworthiness (Gen. 32:10); as well as from the view the gospel opens up to us of rest and peace hereafter (Rom. 5:2).
According to Greta:
CONTENTMENT
a state of being okay with the fact that your greatest accomplishment today may be taking a shower. It is opposed to envying your friends who actually get days off; wanting anything for yourself, even your own breakfast; ambition for a career, or any sort of recognition for the mundane work you do every day; worrying about your children's health, safety, future, and anything else that is completely out of your control; and wishing you had been a little more careful with the birth control when you'd had the chance. It arises from deep within your soul, where you know that this is the life God chose for you, and that despite all your moaning you actually love being a mom and are in awe of the responsibility and blessing given to such an undeserving person. It comes from getting to the place where you don't need recognition because you know that you are doing Kingdom work in serving the very people Jesus said were at the center of his Kingdom (Matt 19:14).
CONTENTMENT
a state of mind in which one's desires are confined to his lot whatever it may be (1 Tim. 6:6; 2 Cor. 9:8). It is opposed to envy (James 3:16), avarice (Heb. 13:5), ambition (Prov. 13:10), anxiety (Matt. 6:25, 34), and repining (1 Cor. 10:10). It arises from the inward disposition, and is the offspring of humility, and of an intelligent consideration of the rectitude and benignity of divine providence (Ps. 96:1, 2; 145), the greatness of the divine promises (2 Pet. 1:4), and our own unworthiness (Gen. 32:10); as well as from the view the gospel opens up to us of rest and peace hereafter (Rom. 5:2).
According to Greta:
CONTENTMENT
a state of being okay with the fact that your greatest accomplishment today may be taking a shower. It is opposed to envying your friends who actually get days off; wanting anything for yourself, even your own breakfast; ambition for a career, or any sort of recognition for the mundane work you do every day; worrying about your children's health, safety, future, and anything else that is completely out of your control; and wishing you had been a little more careful with the birth control when you'd had the chance. It arises from deep within your soul, where you know that this is the life God chose for you, and that despite all your moaning you actually love being a mom and are in awe of the responsibility and blessing given to such an undeserving person. It comes from getting to the place where you don't need recognition because you know that you are doing Kingdom work in serving the very people Jesus said were at the center of his Kingdom (Matt 19:14).
Sleep
I miss the comfort of your sweet embrace
as my head hits the pillow and I surrender to your spell.
I miss the feeling of waking in the morning having rested in your arms through the night
in such a deep trance that not even dreams can wrest me from you.
You tease me with your company for a while,
but you keep leaving me when I need you most.
Dear friend, would you introduce yourself to my Macy?
Would you woo her as you have wooed me?
Would you be a friend to her as you have been to me?
For the better acquainted she becomes with you, the more you and I can be together.
And what a happy day that will be
when once again I wake in the morning
to find that you and I have made it through a night
with nothing separating us from each other.
And I can cheerfully say goodbye to you until night
instead of tearfully clinging to you as my children shoo you away.
as my head hits the pillow and I surrender to your spell.
I miss the feeling of waking in the morning having rested in your arms through the night
in such a deep trance that not even dreams can wrest me from you.
You tease me with your company for a while,
but you keep leaving me when I need you most.
Dear friend, would you introduce yourself to my Macy?
Would you woo her as you have wooed me?
Would you be a friend to her as you have been to me?
For the better acquainted she becomes with you, the more you and I can be together.
And what a happy day that will be
when once again I wake in the morning
to find that you and I have made it through a night
with nothing separating us from each other.
And I can cheerfully say goodbye to you until night
instead of tearfully clinging to you as my children shoo you away.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
New Year's Breakfast
This was my version of a French Toast Strata. Another one for you, Mrs.
1 loaf (1 kg.) Panettone, cubed
8 oz Wensleydale with cranberries
8 eggs
2 1/2 cups whole milk
6 T butter, melted (if you can find Cointreau butter, even better)
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
1. Grease a 3-quart rectangular baking dish. Place half of the bread cubes in the dish. Top with crumbled Wensleydale and remaining bread cubes.
2. Combine remaining ingredients and pour evenly over bread and cheese. Slightly press layers down to moisten, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 to 24 hours.
3. Bake, uncovered, in a 325 degree oven for 35 to 40 minutes or until the center appears set and the edges are lightly golden. Let stand about 10 minutes before serving. Serve with a dollop of mascarpone and maple syrup if you're feeling extra-indulgent, but it's pretty rich as is. Makes 6 to 8 servings.
Oh, so good. Mmm.
1 loaf (1 kg.) Panettone, cubed
8 oz Wensleydale with cranberries
8 eggs
2 1/2 cups whole milk
6 T butter, melted (if you can find Cointreau butter, even better)
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
1. Grease a 3-quart rectangular baking dish. Place half of the bread cubes in the dish. Top with crumbled Wensleydale and remaining bread cubes.
2. Combine remaining ingredients and pour evenly over bread and cheese. Slightly press layers down to moisten, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 to 24 hours.
3. Bake, uncovered, in a 325 degree oven for 35 to 40 minutes or until the center appears set and the edges are lightly golden. Let stand about 10 minutes before serving. Serve with a dollop of mascarpone and maple syrup if you're feeling extra-indulgent, but it's pretty rich as is. Makes 6 to 8 servings.
Oh, so good. Mmm.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Peace, Fruitfulness, and Passion
Looking back on 2007, I came across the three words I used to describe what I hoped 2007 would be.
It was a year of peace. Tim and I got along so well this year. I feel like we really hit a stride in our communication. We lived in a peaceful neighborhood. We enjoyed peaceful sleep with a baby who started sleeping through the night at 12 weeks.
It was also a year of war. We fought depression. We fought fear and worry with Macy's hernia. Tim had stress at work.
It was a year of fruitfulness. Our third child was born. Elliottyoung grossed record revenues. The children grew. Addien learned to talk, Macy learned to move, and Cerys started preschool.
It was also a year of want. Tim worked too hard and wasn't home enough. I missed my friends and family in America. We spent too much time watching tv and not enough time working on our to-do lists. My stint with Creative Memories came to an end.
And passion. We celebrated our five year anniversary. I feel more in love with my husband every day. I was passionate about finding God in my everyday life. I was passionate about being a good mom.
I had lots of days that were just hum-drum as well. I struggled with feeling stuck in my life, feeling like everything is on hold until my kids are a bit older. I don't know where a lot my days went--they seemed to fly by without my participation.
I guess that's life. Full of light and dark, good and evil. That's what I learned in 2007. I learned to let some of my boxes go, to let some color into my black and white viewpoints. I found peace amidst turmoil, joy through sorrow, passion in mundanity.
For 2008 I hope for more of the same. I'd like to see my boundaries of faith, love, and grace pushed further open and to be challenged in those areas. I want to grow as a mom and develop my skills as a leader and teacher. I want to find one new thing to explore, either cooking or writing, I haven't decided. And I want to have joy. Much, much joy.
It was a year of peace. Tim and I got along so well this year. I feel like we really hit a stride in our communication. We lived in a peaceful neighborhood. We enjoyed peaceful sleep with a baby who started sleeping through the night at 12 weeks.
It was also a year of war. We fought depression. We fought fear and worry with Macy's hernia. Tim had stress at work.
It was a year of fruitfulness. Our third child was born. Elliottyoung grossed record revenues. The children grew. Addien learned to talk, Macy learned to move, and Cerys started preschool.
It was also a year of want. Tim worked too hard and wasn't home enough. I missed my friends and family in America. We spent too much time watching tv and not enough time working on our to-do lists. My stint with Creative Memories came to an end.
And passion. We celebrated our five year anniversary. I feel more in love with my husband every day. I was passionate about finding God in my everyday life. I was passionate about being a good mom.
I had lots of days that were just hum-drum as well. I struggled with feeling stuck in my life, feeling like everything is on hold until my kids are a bit older. I don't know where a lot my days went--they seemed to fly by without my participation.
I guess that's life. Full of light and dark, good and evil. That's what I learned in 2007. I learned to let some of my boxes go, to let some color into my black and white viewpoints. I found peace amidst turmoil, joy through sorrow, passion in mundanity.
For 2008 I hope for more of the same. I'd like to see my boundaries of faith, love, and grace pushed further open and to be challenged in those areas. I want to grow as a mom and develop my skills as a leader and teacher. I want to find one new thing to explore, either cooking or writing, I haven't decided. And I want to have joy. Much, much joy.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas!
We have had a lovely Christmas, and wish you all a merry one as well, whether you are celebrating the birth of our Lord or abstaining from the pagan celebration of the winter solstice, I hope you've had a wonderful day.
We started our celebrations yesterday at 4:00 by attending the local Anglican church's Crib Service. The girls were entertained by a very sweet reenactment of the birth of Jesus, which they joined by barging onto the stage to sit with the angels, and Addien managed to lead several other toddlers in an impromptu performance of pushing the manger halfway across the stage. About three-quarters of the way through Cerys loudly announced that she was hungry and ready to go home, so we bundled up and made our way outside. As we strolled through the town centre, the girls oohed and aahed at the lights, and Macy slept in my arms. We arrived home to a brilliant feast of cheese, salami, peking duck spring rolls, and various other vittles laid out by Katy. After a quick bath, we came down to open our Christmas Eve pajamas, and tried to settle in to A Muppet's Christmas Carol, but quickly realised that that's a few years on for the girls and so settled for a game of Simon Says. After settling the girls down for the night, we enjoyed Raider's of the Lost Ark and decided we were too tired to make it to the midnight carol service and headed for bed. (Well, I did--Katy and Tim stayed up until the wee hours of morn watching Bleak House and searching the internet for cheap housing options.)
This morning we slept until 8, opened some small gifts, and feasted on pancakes and sausage while discussing the finer points of Jesus' birth (Jesus was born in a barn, not a field, in Bethlehem, not Bedford). The morning was spent napping, bathing, and gorging our eyes on Chitty Chitty, Bang Bang and countless episodes of Charlie and Lola, both gifts for the girls. After an Indian takeaway at 1:30, we all headed for the park to burn off a few calories and tire out the girls so the grown-ups can enjoy an early night. The early evening saw puzzles, more naps, and mugs of hot vanilla. Somewhere in there Katy cleaned the kitchen and got in a load of muddy laundry. And now we are catching the last few minutes of The Polar Express while Macy practices her army crawl.
A very merry Christmas, indeed.
We started our celebrations yesterday at 4:00 by attending the local Anglican church's Crib Service. The girls were entertained by a very sweet reenactment of the birth of Jesus, which they joined by barging onto the stage to sit with the angels, and Addien managed to lead several other toddlers in an impromptu performance of pushing the manger halfway across the stage. About three-quarters of the way through Cerys loudly announced that she was hungry and ready to go home, so we bundled up and made our way outside. As we strolled through the town centre, the girls oohed and aahed at the lights, and Macy slept in my arms. We arrived home to a brilliant feast of cheese, salami, peking duck spring rolls, and various other vittles laid out by Katy. After a quick bath, we came down to open our Christmas Eve pajamas, and tried to settle in to A Muppet's Christmas Carol, but quickly realised that that's a few years on for the girls and so settled for a game of Simon Says. After settling the girls down for the night, we enjoyed Raider's of the Lost Ark and decided we were too tired to make it to the midnight carol service and headed for bed. (Well, I did--Katy and Tim stayed up until the wee hours of morn watching Bleak House and searching the internet for cheap housing options.)
This morning we slept until 8, opened some small gifts, and feasted on pancakes and sausage while discussing the finer points of Jesus' birth (Jesus was born in a barn, not a field, in Bethlehem, not Bedford). The morning was spent napping, bathing, and gorging our eyes on Chitty Chitty, Bang Bang and countless episodes of Charlie and Lola, both gifts for the girls. After an Indian takeaway at 1:30, we all headed for the park to burn off a few calories and tire out the girls so the grown-ups can enjoy an early night. The early evening saw puzzles, more naps, and mugs of hot vanilla. Somewhere in there Katy cleaned the kitchen and got in a load of muddy laundry. And now we are catching the last few minutes of The Polar Express while Macy practices her army crawl.
A very merry Christmas, indeed.
Monday, December 24, 2007
A Guest Appearance
My sister Katy is here visiting for the month, and I thought her first letter home was worth posting:
Hello everyone!
I've arrived safely in the UK, having experienced only minor turbulence during the 11 hour flight over, mostly due to the tossing and turning of my nieces as they tried to find a comfortable position for sleeping in my lap. I am proud to say that I only had to ask Greta to hold my hand once while on the plane, during takeoff, and not again for the duration of the flight. Every good thing anyone has ever told me about Virgin Atlantic is true: free alcohol, free movies on demand, and unbelievably courteous flight attendants who are willing to hold an infant while you're dealing with the two toddlers in your party. I'm really looking forward to watching Superbad (and Pirates 3 and Harry Potter 5 and a bunch of angst-ridden Indie films) and drinking a bottle of wine on the way home, but while chaperoning three little girls on the trip over, 8 episodes of Dora the Explorer and loads of spilled orange juice were as close as I got to taking advantage of the amenities on board the plane. <> We lost an entire day in transit, leaving from LAX in the night and arriving the following evening in Bedford, with three tired little girls and 12 million pieces of luggage in tow...Greta and I have only now gotten around to putting our arms back in their sockets.
At 11 p.m., we arrived home from the airport to Greta’s tiny house (everything seems to be in miniature here…the average refrigerator for a family of 5 is the size of my dorm-room mini-fridge). I finally got my glass of wine, fell asleep on the first page of a new book and woke up at noon on Tuesday. The first order of business was to reunite my nieces with their playmates, so we spent the day drinking highly caffeinated tea and visiting with Greta's friend Emma and her two children, Kate and Isaac, who delighted me with their cockney accents, which are even thicker than those of my nieces. My brother-in-law opened a bottle of my favourite (this version of WORD keeps denying my attempts to spell the word ‘favorite’) wine with dinner (a dish the Brits call 'Bubble and Squeak'), which made the experience of waiting for the jet-lagged girls to tire themselves out and fall asleep a bit mellower.
Yesterday, I became ecstatic at hearing about a proper coffee shop in Bedford and demanded that my sister drive me there. So, we packed up the girls and two hours later, after getting dressed and having a snack and putting on coats and mittens and taking them all off again to go wee and putting them all on again and buckling the girls into their car seats, were on our way. Once there, we ordered our drinks and let the girls flirt with the barista, who happened to be a really good-looking Frenchman. We settled into a table outside, and before I had taken my first sip, Greta downed her latte in a single gulp and started packing up the kids again. I’m learning more and more on this trip that sitting and sipping are luxuries not to be had when you’re the mother of three.
Today we froze our bums off at the town square, which is an enormous outside mall/market closed off to vehicular traffic. I learned about ordering in grams and paying in pound notes, and watched my nieces eat bangers wrapped in puff pastry…hmmm…Everyone was crying by the time we left the square; the girls were too cold and too jet-lagged to walk another step, so once we got home, they went upstairs for a nap while Greta and I delved into the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice for perhaps the 27th time since we’ve been sisters and enjoyed yet another cup of tea.
It’s been so nice getting to hang out with my sister, who lives altogether too far from home; though, it’s quite something to see Greta at work in her own home. She is absolutely tireless in her enthusiasm for taking care of her girls, and my brother-in-law is the same, coming home from work every night to have a dance-a-thon with Cerys, Addien and Macy before ever sitting down to rest.
I’m really looking forward to going to London in the near future to view the Tate Modern, which comes highly recommended, and hopefully meeting up with some of the Brits I met over the semester…We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to loads of email correspondence to remind me that there are conversations to be had revolving around topics other than Winnie the Pooh. I miss you all and hope you’re having a fantastic holiday back home! That said, I’ve just been notified that it’s time for another ABBA-accompanied dance extravaganza with the nieces…
Cheers,
Katy
Hello everyone!
I've arrived safely in the UK, having experienced only minor turbulence during the 11 hour flight over, mostly due to the tossing and turning of my nieces as they tried to find a comfortable position for sleeping in my lap. I am proud to say that I only had to ask Greta to hold my hand once while on the plane, during takeoff, and not again for the duration of the flight. Every good thing anyone has ever told me about Virgin Atlantic is true: free alcohol, free movies on demand, and unbelievably courteous flight attendants who are willing to hold an infant while you're dealing with the two toddlers in your party. I'm really looking forward to watching Superbad (and Pirates 3 and Harry Potter 5 and a bunch of angst-ridden Indie films) and drinking a bottle of wine on the way home, but while chaperoning three little girls on the trip over, 8 episodes of Dora the Explorer and loads of spilled orange juice were as close as I got to taking advantage of the amenities on board the plane. <
At 11 p.m., we arrived home from the airport to Greta’s tiny house (everything seems to be in miniature here…the average refrigerator for a family of 5 is the size of my dorm-room mini-fridge). I finally got my glass of wine, fell asleep on the first page of a new book and woke up at noon on Tuesday. The first order of business was to reunite my nieces with their playmates, so we spent the day drinking highly caffeinated tea and visiting with Greta's friend Emma and her two children, Kate and Isaac, who delighted me with their cockney accents, which are even thicker than those of my nieces. My brother-in-law opened a bottle of my favourite (this version of WORD keeps denying my attempts to spell the word ‘favorite’) wine with dinner (a dish the Brits call 'Bubble and Squeak'), which made the experience of waiting for the jet-lagged girls to tire themselves out and fall asleep a bit mellower.
Yesterday, I became ecstatic at hearing about a proper coffee shop in Bedford and demanded that my sister drive me there. So, we packed up the girls and two hours later, after getting dressed and having a snack and putting on coats and mittens and taking them all off again to go wee and putting them all on again and buckling the girls into their car seats, were on our way. Once there, we ordered our drinks and let the girls flirt with the barista, who happened to be a really good-looking Frenchman. We settled into a table outside, and before I had taken my first sip, Greta downed her latte in a single gulp and started packing up the kids again. I’m learning more and more on this trip that sitting and sipping are luxuries not to be had when you’re the mother of three.
Today we froze our bums off at the town square, which is an enormous outside mall/market closed off to vehicular traffic. I learned about ordering in grams and paying in pound notes, and watched my nieces eat bangers wrapped in puff pastry…hmmm…Everyone was crying by the time we left the square; the girls were too cold and too jet-lagged to walk another step, so once we got home, they went upstairs for a nap while Greta and I delved into the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice for perhaps the 27th time since we’ve been sisters and enjoyed yet another cup of tea.
It’s been so nice getting to hang out with my sister, who lives altogether too far from home; though, it’s quite something to see Greta at work in her own home. She is absolutely tireless in her enthusiasm for taking care of her girls, and my brother-in-law is the same, coming home from work every night to have a dance-a-thon with Cerys, Addien and Macy before ever sitting down to rest.
I’m really looking forward to going to London in the near future to view the Tate Modern, which comes highly recommended, and hopefully meeting up with some of the Brits I met over the semester…We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to loads of email correspondence to remind me that there are conversations to be had revolving around topics other than Winnie the Pooh. I miss you all and hope you’re having a fantastic holiday back home! That said, I’ve just been notified that it’s time for another ABBA-accompanied dance extravaganza with the nieces…
Cheers,
Katy
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Norman Rockwell at Sears
We tried to get our pictures taken two days after arriving. Don't ever try to take three kids under four to have their pictures taken when they're trying to get over an 8-hour time difference. You might end up with your picture on the front of the Saturday Evening Post, which is where this one belongs.
Friday, November 02, 2007
On Fear, Trembling, and Anxiety
I thought I got it. I thought I'd managed to survive a personal tragedy without shaking my fist at God. I smugly thought I was okay, reconciled, far from bitter. Until a mini-crisis arose, and all the niggling fears and lies came wriggling to the surface like so many maggots feasting on rotting food.
What I realised this week as I listened to this preach and tried to pray for my baby girl who is about to go through quite a simple operation is this: My paradigm shift that came as I tried to reconcile a God who is good who also allows babies to die became a new world where God is far away. He is good, but only concerned with the bigger picture of preparing a Church fit to be his (metaphorical) Bride. He's not interested in the little things like babies' surgeries and mothers' worries, and so as I tried to pray, tried to release her into His grip, the thought that wouldn't go away was, "This is pointless. He just doesn't care."
My new God is good. He is loving and kind, but these little details are too small for him. He has bigger fish to fry, and afterall, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. And if it does kill us, there's always eternity.
I'm not really sure how to come back to reality. Or is it possible that this is reality? I can't believe that this new God is an accurate portrayal of the God described by so many as a friend, a comfort, a refuge, a shepherd who looks for his one lost sheep. And yet deep in the recesses of my heart, and bubbling out onto the surface, I am cold and scared and feeling I must be too insignificant to grasp the attention of the Almighty when I ask him to take care of my baby girl.
God, forgive me for my smugness. Forgive me for trying to gloss over, rather than walk through, pain. Keep teaching me who you are, and never let me think I've got you figured out. You're too big for that. But as Nichole eloquently prays, Great God, be small enough to hear me now.
What I realised this week as I listened to this preach and tried to pray for my baby girl who is about to go through quite a simple operation is this: My paradigm shift that came as I tried to reconcile a God who is good who also allows babies to die became a new world where God is far away. He is good, but only concerned with the bigger picture of preparing a Church fit to be his (metaphorical) Bride. He's not interested in the little things like babies' surgeries and mothers' worries, and so as I tried to pray, tried to release her into His grip, the thought that wouldn't go away was, "This is pointless. He just doesn't care."
My new God is good. He is loving and kind, but these little details are too small for him. He has bigger fish to fry, and afterall, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. And if it does kill us, there's always eternity.
I'm not really sure how to come back to reality. Or is it possible that this is reality? I can't believe that this new God is an accurate portrayal of the God described by so many as a friend, a comfort, a refuge, a shepherd who looks for his one lost sheep. And yet deep in the recesses of my heart, and bubbling out onto the surface, I am cold and scared and feeling I must be too insignificant to grasp the attention of the Almighty when I ask him to take care of my baby girl.
God, forgive me for my smugness. Forgive me for trying to gloss over, rather than walk through, pain. Keep teaching me who you are, and never let me think I've got you figured out. You're too big for that. But as Nichole eloquently prays, Great God, be small enough to hear me now.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Another Cake Decorating Feat
I set myself a high bar with the last birthday, and I don't think I was on the same par this time. Still, I was quite pleased, and so was my beautiful princess. Not that you can tell by the look on her face, but she was smiling on the inside.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Macy rolls over
My blog is turning into an arena for showing off my kids. Not at all what I initially intended, but one more step in accepting the fact that I am a full-time mom, and that means that for the time being kids are what I have to talk about. So, this is Macy rolling over for the first time. Hooray for Macy!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Theology
My theology these days is murky at best. I don't know if I believe in hell (or some other form of punishment) or complete redemption for all mankind (whether they like it or not). I don't know if I think it's important for all Christians to go to church every week. I don't really care if people use the f-bomb to express their emotion. And I really don't think it's that important to know what I believe about creation and inerrancy. No, I've decided to go with Bill Johnson on these and say "I don't have dogs in those fights." Rather, I'm trying to cope with the everyday demands of three little ones and gleaning what I can from those interactions.
I've recently rediscovered a cd that I bought for the girls, and we've been listening to it in the car. One of the songs asks, "Mr. Cow, how do you say to the Lord, 'I love you'?" To which he replies, "Well, I stand around in the field all day and it gives me plenty of time to say, 'Moo, moo, moo.'" It may sound funny, but that song gives me a lot of hope. Because I don't get much time to "spend with the Lord" these days. I'm too busy answering cries for Mommy to get much time at all (see dramatic decrease in blog posts since Macy was born as corroborating evidence). This song reminds me that I am worshipping God every time I do my normal tasks that he's assigned me. Changing the world one diaper at a time.
Another favourite points me to creation. "When I look at the trees blowing in the breeze, ooh ooh I praise You, Ooh ooh I praise you. When I see a bird up high, swooping in the sky, Ooh ooh I praise you, Ooh ooh I praise you. It's a wonderful world for boys and girls, such a wonderful world for boys and girls and we praise you Creator God." I love to watch my kids marvel at caterpillars and get excited about ants and squeal with delight at pigeons. God has indeed made a wonderful world for boys and girls.
I am content with this as my theology: God is good. A lot of stuff is bad, but God is good, and my job is to love Him and everyone who comes across my path. Selah.
I've recently rediscovered a cd that I bought for the girls, and we've been listening to it in the car. One of the songs asks, "Mr. Cow, how do you say to the Lord, 'I love you'?" To which he replies, "Well, I stand around in the field all day and it gives me plenty of time to say, 'Moo, moo, moo.'" It may sound funny, but that song gives me a lot of hope. Because I don't get much time to "spend with the Lord" these days. I'm too busy answering cries for Mommy to get much time at all (see dramatic decrease in blog posts since Macy was born as corroborating evidence). This song reminds me that I am worshipping God every time I do my normal tasks that he's assigned me. Changing the world one diaper at a time.
Another favourite points me to creation. "When I look at the trees blowing in the breeze, ooh ooh I praise You, Ooh ooh I praise you. When I see a bird up high, swooping in the sky, Ooh ooh I praise you, Ooh ooh I praise you. It's a wonderful world for boys and girls, such a wonderful world for boys and girls and we praise you Creator God." I love to watch my kids marvel at caterpillars and get excited about ants and squeal with delight at pigeons. God has indeed made a wonderful world for boys and girls.
I am content with this as my theology: God is good. A lot of stuff is bad, but God is good, and my job is to love Him and everyone who comes across my path. Selah.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Life after Will
It's been a year and a day since I got the e-mail that changed my life. "He died at 3:11 this morning. I'm overcome." As I sobbed like I've never sobbed before, as my heart broke for one of the dearest, sweetest friends I've ever had, as my faith for miracles crumbled and my joy in life momentarily vanished, my world shook. Months of prayer and hope seemed fruitless and empty. I still don't get it, I don't understand why, I hate that it happened the way it did. I want to see Will grow up, and even more I want to see my friends enjoying their son.
At the same time, I am grateful for Will.
Because of Will I learned to pray. I learned to believe that God is good, even when I cannot see his goodness, and to praise God even when I don't feel like it. I learned what it means to be desperate for a miracle, and to continue to hope after bitter disappointment. I learned to love, as I watched his parents give so selflessly during his life, and as I walked with them in their grief. I learned to battle through fear and doubt, anger and pain. And I learned to long for God's Kingdom to come in full.
When I think about my cloud of witnesses, who have gone before me and who spur me on to faith, Will is there at the front, cheering me on, cheering on his mom and dad and sister and everyone else who loved him, and telling us not to give up. Telling us that life is full of beauty that we need to look for, telling us that there is wisdom far beyond our understanding, and that there is love that will wipe away all of our tears.
At the same time, I am grateful for Will.
Because of Will I learned to pray. I learned to believe that God is good, even when I cannot see his goodness, and to praise God even when I don't feel like it. I learned what it means to be desperate for a miracle, and to continue to hope after bitter disappointment. I learned to love, as I watched his parents give so selflessly during his life, and as I walked with them in their grief. I learned to battle through fear and doubt, anger and pain. And I learned to long for God's Kingdom to come in full.
When I think about my cloud of witnesses, who have gone before me and who spur me on to faith, Will is there at the front, cheering me on, cheering on his mom and dad and sister and everyone else who loved him, and telling us not to give up. Telling us that life is full of beauty that we need to look for, telling us that there is wisdom far beyond our understanding, and that there is love that will wipe away all of our tears.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Busy, busy, busy
I've never been so busy in all my life. College was nothing, the fast pace of DC living was a breeze compared to the never-ending demands of three under-fours! I'm not complaining, just stating the facts. Almost every day an idea for a post creeps into my thoughts and is quickly forced out again by a cry for milk, juice, diaper change, crayons, playdoh, story, song, ad nauseum. I went through a severe bout of post-natal depression, was miraculously healed, would love to write about it, but haven't found the time. I tried a half-dozen times to upload video to YouTube before realizing I needed to compress the file before I could do that, so much time was wasted there. Started running again and was amazed at how much it easier it is now that my pelvis doesn't feel like it's breaking in two. Went to the beach in Wales and had a marvellous time experimenting with living in community. And hundreds of other events and thoughts have occurred in the past month or so, but that's all I have time for at present. The blog is a bit of a catch 22 for me. I love writing, but don't feel like I have the time, but if I don't take the time, I feel frustrated. Oh the horror!
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