returning a virtue?

Odd how the creative power at once brings the whole universe to order.
~Virginia Woolf

One. Two. My sneakers, getting worse for wear these days, slid tight into their appointed places in the closet shoe hanger. I'd thrown them behind the door, but with a little effort it was one less thing on the floor. "Don't be lazy," I said to myself. "Put them where they go." One. Two.

Maybe I've become a little OCD with age. My mother used to pile the clutter on my room into a huge burial mound in an attempt to visually and physically force me to clean up. That would be me now, throwing Star Wars figures, G.I. Joe soldiers, random cars, trucks, and space vehicles along with bits of hardened Play Dough and model pieces into a pyre taken straight out of the Island of Misfit Toys meets cultural revolution. Yes, somewhere along the way, a virtue popped up in some unnoticeable corner (doubtless nurtured with good diligence by my wife) called: The Virtue of Putting Things Back Where They Go.

One. Two. Two steps up the ladder of divine ascent, or in this case, the clean, crisp stairway of the same. It feels so good to put things back in their places. So orderly. So satisfying and even sacred. Virtue or not, there is a holiness to it.

There seems a direct correlation between this kind of action and a practical, no-nonsense eschatology of a sort that Martha would have gladly written into the cookbook between stout soup and a satisfying casserole. Doesn't the triune God have an economy: an ordering of the home, albeit this great universe bound in time and space? Isn't redemption itself a kind of putting things back into place. "Damn creation has gone all out of sorts, time to pull it all out onto the floor and go about the business of putting it back together." The angels go to work seperating it out into heaps: soldiers, kings, theives, harlots, Wall Street sophists, lovers, vicars, and out-of-work editors.

It is such a small act, putting things back. A little extra work--and isn't that what virtues are, just a little effort more than the minimum? Hang up that jacket you just threw into the closet. Put your glasses where they go. Wash a dish. And isn't the result a kind of cleanliness of space and of mind?

I love the clean lines and open surfaces of a space where things are meant to be. And how characteristic is the love to so much of what we human beings do on a daily basis. She designes relational databases. He runs a forklift. She replants her garden in the Spring. He checks the weather forecast and chooses to wear a thicker coat. She checks the notes for a presentation to persuade others.

Ask yourself what changes this simple virtue could make applied to just the space of a room or two of your home? To your car? To your wallet or purse? Our surroundings shape us, shape our expectations, and shape what possibilities are available to our hopes in subtle ways. Is it easier to pursue virtue when everything has a place? Is orderliness--or, to make it a noun--"returning" a fundamental virtue?

A Few Precious Christmas Moments

As I'm typing this I'm sitting in the kitchen. From here I can smell the pumpkin bread baking in the oven, I can feel the clutter of Christmas wrappings, and I can see Thom and Kara sitting at the dining room table showing Thom's grandmother all of the latest sites on the Internet. She's now had Lessons in Facebook, LinkedIn, Hulu.com, Twitter and Webkinz world. Thom is as gentle with her as if he were teaching a small child and she's soaking it all in and asking good question. It's very sweet, but not the first sweet moment of today.


Just a few minutes ago Kara and I were sitting together in our new "big chair" in the living room. It's the kind of chair that a grown-up can sit in and a kid can sit across you resting their legs on the big, round arms of the chair. Kara and I were having a very serious conversation. Over the years Kara has often inquired the answer to the question "are we poor?" For a while this was based on our residence in an apartment rather than a house. Sometimes this related to some random comment about whether or not we could afford something, sometimes it just seemed the question itself was random. Either way it has been a recurrent theme for her. So, today we were again revisiting this question. She had a wonderful Christmas, but overheard a bit of conversation that concerned her, so we were having a serious Mommy-Daughter talk. I remembered that although I had talked with quite a few adults about my recent feelings on staying steadfast in trusting in the Lord, I had not really talked with Kara about this. Here was my chance. We talked about the challenges this year had presented. We talked about James Chapter 1 and we talked about what it means to be steadfast in our trust of the Lord for all things. The conversation concluded with me saying I was not planning on losing hope in God and as long as we had hope in God, we would not ever be truly poor. So, I asked her, are you planning on losing hope in God? And she answered me with the look of a true believer and said "would I ever do that?" and hopped off my lap secure in her hope in the Lord.


Ok, one more sweet Christmas story. For weeks now the only Christmas wish from Caleb has been for a vacuum cleaner. And not just any vacuum cleaner. He wanted the toy Hoover Windtunnel Upright with attachments. To the best of my knowledge it hasn't been in a store since 2006 and only one has been on eBay in the last two months. Look it up -- it's over $100 on Amazon and that's if they have one. So, first we tried to convince him any vacuum would do just fine. He didn't buy that. One night, about three weeks ago, we were sitting at the dinner table talking with Caleb about Jesus and Santa -- who was real, who do we worship, etc. So, I asked Caleb -- "What has Jesus done for you?" -- of course I was hoping for the words "He died on the cross for my sins." -- nope, I get "Jesus has a vacuum cleaner?" It was all Thom and I could do to keep from laughing ! After this we began seriously thinking --- we need to find this boy the vacuum of his dreams! So, we sent a note out on Twitter -- to the whole free world and some of the not-so-free world. We got back one response -- from very close friends at our church!!! Sure enough Jesus had a vacuum cleaner for Caleb -- it just happened to visit our friend's house for a few years first.

Fast forward to last night. It's 10pm and the little guy COULD not fall asleep. Armed with a green crayon and a piece of paper he snatched from his sister, he wanted to write a letter to Santa. Evidently the voices of his friends and teachers are just as loud as Mommy & Daddy and Santa-lore lives on. Ok, we'll write him a letter. After some scribbly attempts on his own, I offered to take dicatation. He told me line by line : "Dear Santa, I want a vacuum cleaner for Christmas. Mommy and Daddy love you. Grandma and Papa love you. I love my friends Ben and Greyson." He paused and looked at me.

"Mommy, what about Jesus?" he asked.
"What about Jesus, Caleb?"
"We forgot Jesus." he said.
"What did we forget about Jesus, Caleb?"
"We forgot to write Jesus."
"Do you want me to write something about Jesus."
"We need to write Jesus."
"Caleb, do you want this letter to GO to Jesus."
"Yes, Mommy!!"
"Ok, can we cross out Santa and write Jesus instead."
"Oh, yes, Mommy!"

So, I drew a big green X through Santa and wrote Jesus up above. And re-read the letter.

"Dear Jesus, I want a vacuum cleaner for Christmas. Mommy and Daddy love you. Grandma and Papa love you. I love my friends Ben and Greyson. I love you, too. Caleb."

Then we had to draw a picture of the vacuum cleaner on the back and Caleb slept holding this piece of paper.

6:45 AM -- Caleb is up the stairs and heading to the presents. When he saw the vacuum cleaner, his mouth fell open and he announced "What in the world?! It's a vacuum cleaner!!"

About two hours later we were sitting eating breakfast in the kitchen. Caleb leaned over to me and said:

"Mommy, I'm yucky."
"No, you're not Caleb. You're yummy."
"No, Mommy, I'm yucky."
"Caleb, what part of you is yucky?"
"No, Mommy, I'm yuck-y" He said slowly and I got it!
"Oh, Caleb, do you mean you're Lucky?!"
"Yes, Mommy. I'm yucky."
"Why are you lucky Caleb?"

He hopped up from the table and ran from the room. A minute or two later he came back in holding his letter to Jesus. "See Mommy. I'm yucky."

I was astounded. How many three year olds do you know who feel fortunate or blessed or lucky? It seems in this day and age, most kids feel entitled, sometimes even disappointed. I feel lucky that my little guy feels lucky today. I pray that all of our prayers could be answered as simply as Caleb's little vacuum cleaner. And if not, I pray that all of us could have Kara's confidence that she will never have a time in her life where she would give up on trusting in God.

Remember to enjoy the Gift of Christmas every day of your life. Christmas is supposed to be a Holy-Day, not just a holiday and it is here to remind us that the truth of Jesus is true every day. May 2009 be a blessing in your life!

So, what's been going on...

It used to seem easy to just hop online and write up a new post for the family blog. It was like grabbing the journal or diary on my nightstand and jotting down the events of the day, but lately it's been more like climbing Mount Everest.

When we started this blog our life was a 1,000 -- a million -- miles away from what it is now. In 2005 we wrote more than 250 posts, more than in all the years since then. And it's not that our lives have gotten less interesting, if anything it's exactly the opposite -- our lives are so full, we forget to take time to jot anything down. When Kara was a new baby I had completed two full journals about her life by the time she was three -- with Caleb, I'm still on the same journal as the week he was born!

So, why am I writing this? Well, it IS NOT to say that we're giving up on the blog. If anything, it's more like a New Year's Resolution. On the other hand, for those of you on Facebook, you're more likely to get a Twitter-length note from me than a the well-thought-out post on here.

So... here's a little time-capsule sort of update for what is going on Dec. 2008-- before any more time passes....

Since I usually save myself for last or forget to write anything about me at all, I'll start with me--- I've been very consistant with my writing this year. I've written five biographical articles each month this year, except for July -- due to my Grandmother's illness and passing. I have learned and forgotten more biographical facts about individuals whose names I know cannot remember than I ever thought possible. I am WAY, WAY behind in my scrapbooking -- my scrapbooks don't even know that the world made it to 2008, but I'm hoping to get a little more caught up in the New Year -- again with the pseudo-resolutions. For those of you who haven't seen me in a while, my hair has gotten seriously long, down to the middle of my back. For those of you who see me all the time -- that's how long it is when I take it down out of the clips I usually wear! :-) Again with the resolutions -- I've put on a few unwelcome pounds this year and I'm planning on losing them regardless of the date on the calendar. I just need to do that for me. My parents have gifted us their stationary bike and I plan on making the most of that, as soon as the garage is cleaner and the site of it doesn't give me heart palpatations and shortness of breath. Enough about me.

Thom is plugging along through the job hunt. As I'm pretty sure everyone knows, he has been home since being let go from Thomas Nelson on November 12. The official word was - lay-offs. He got some severance, some COBRA coverage and help from an outplacement services firm that helps corporate types plan out their job hunt. So far so good. Thom has become a networking guru! He signed up on LinkedIn and appears to be pretty well linked. He's got some great references and has seen a bit of forward movement on three possible job leads. The most promising one may pan out in the first month or so of the new year. It would be an excellent opportunity for him to use his past contacts through Gordon-Conwell and his work in publishing to help a publishing house expand their evangelical author base. We are quite hopeful that this is the plan God has for us. Until then he is keeping busy with freelance proofing projects from Thomas Nelson. He is also getting a much better understanding of why I often have called him toward the end of the day wondering how soon he'll be home! -- the kids can drive you crazy sometimes just being kids.

As for the kids --- Caleb is FULL OF HIMSELF lately! Since trying to munch on the light bulb he has gotten in trouble for trying to clean the bathtub with Comet -- a project he took on while Daddy and I were downstairs cleaning up Kara's room for no more than ten minutes. He's also had the less than stellar experience of biting another child and drawing blood -- this happened at school. AND, he's developing a talent for altering the truth. This last one he's really not so good at. He tells the truth until he gets in trouble and then suddenly and, quite dramatically, he announces that no, in fact, the opposite is true. An example of this came up when the full story of the biting came out. Apparently the other child had brought a panda to school for Share Time (show & tell) when I called Caleb down particularly for not taking someone else's Share toy he listened long enough to figure out that was the problem and then stretched out both arms for emphasis and announced "It was not a share toy." Busted! Now he had biten a boy AND lied. We're working on that! On the more positive side, he loves to perform. He needs a stage -- a blanket, a chair, whatever works. Oh yeah, and he needs a microphone, but not a tiny little Lego-built microphone -- "That one's too small." Once it's all set he usually makes it about four words into the song before dejectedly wandering off-stage dissappointed in his own performance. Soon after, he'll return, only to leave again after the same four words.

Kara is an eight-year-old enigma. She is doing great in school, but acts like she hates homework, but then wants to stay up late practicing her spelling words. She hates hearing people scream about anything, but can't seem to get her personal volume control set lower than the SCREECH setting. She reacts to a stubbed toe like she's Jamie Lee Curtis from Halloween. She doesn't want to get her good school sneakers dirty so she never wears them anywhere except school, but I'm perpetually having to remind her to pull up the back of her pants. Some days she'll eat everything on her plate like she's never seen food before and other days I'm not sure how she grows. She loves Legos, and baby dolls, and Star Wars, and Barbie Dolls, and Star Wars Legos, and Pollypockets and Webkinz and computer games, but when you ask her what she wants for Christmas she doesn't know. She's a mostly happy girl, I think, she is compliant about her braces and enjoys picking out new colors for her bracket holders, but if you ask her if she likes going to the dentist she gives you a vague look like "seriously?" She has glasses, we know this because we find them on every flat surface in the house except for her face. But if she leaves them at home, she'll go to the school office and call to have me bring them to her. A friend once said that eight-year old girls go through some sort of early round of hormones -- I'm thinking she was right!

Well, this is our life. If you get our Christmas letter, it'll read a little prettier, but this isn't a Christmas letter, just blog -- web-log, diary entry, Star Date December 16, 2008. --- that's for any fellow closet Trekkies out there.

PLEASE Make it stop....

no, not all the gushing about Obama. 2008 -- I'm serious, I am calling for an Early New Year! If you're not keeping up, go and read the post down below. Tonight after dinner we had today's "crisis."

Caleb tried to eat a flashlight lightbulb. Yes, you read that right! Crunch! Spit! Spew! Spit some more. The next thing you know I'm trying to reassemble pieces of a flashlight lightbulb to see if anything went South before the spitting started. Pretty soon it was obvious that it was time to call for backup and head over to the ER. I'm pretty sure we'd be on a first name basis with them if they joined up with Poison Control and cut their co-pays down a hair. So far this is only our second actual visit with Caleb, but I've called Poison Control too many times to count. He's just so FAST and quiet with the mischief!

In tonight's story he was playing in the corner of the living room with a flashlight and then the next thing you know Thom hears the crunch and the spitting. That fast it went from everthing's fine to we're all freaking out.

Status Update: no glass or metal showed up on the X-Ray and we'll be closely observing him and his poop tomorrow.

Interesting tidbits: Caleb was fascinated by the X-ray and wanted to know what everything was.

Good thing, too... cause we're going to need him to grow up and become a doctor just to help cover the cost of all of these ER trips during his childhood!!

Please God, can tomorrow be totally un-interesting!

Happy Halloween!

 

Ready for '09 !!

Ok, so, I'm not actually a supersticious person, but if I were I would say I am ready for 2008 to be OVER. 2009 has got to be better than this!!

If I were to write a "let's be real, here" Christmas letter, it might sound something like this ... "The first three months of the year we worried about my grandmother's cancer while she went through chemo and got sicker and sicker. Ten the doctor gave her three months to live and we all sat by her bedside and watched her get weaker and weaker until she finally passed away in July. Shortly thereafter I learned I needed surgery and I got to worry about whether or not I had ovarian cancer for a couple of months. In early October, I had surgery and spent two weeks recovering. Then I learned that my daughter's principal's wife has been charged with statuatory rape and on the same day my mother had a cardiac catheterization and my mother-in-law learned she has a malignant melanoma. The following week I had, not one, but TWO fender benders. Yes, two, in one week! I haven't had a car accident since 1992 and then twice in the same week! The day of the second accident I began coming down with the kids' cold. Now we're all sick. Today I heard back from the doctor's office regarding my x-ray from the accident where I was rear-ended and I learned I have mild scoliosis. And tomorrow is the election... I'm ready for 2009!"

So, for all of you readers who are also on our Christmas card list, rest assured I'll spin it a little better than this by Christmas! I just have to!!

In the day to day... did I mention that today I actually LOST Caleb at Walmart? Not just for a moment, but for minutes! It was enough of a situation to actually warrant getting the whole place looking for him. We were in the toy department and when I thought he was going to the next aisle, he disappeared down through electronics and shoes and poof he was gone! He runs pretty fast, and up until now I've always caught up with him whenever he's done something like this. Today I had the panicked feeling of having no idea where my child was. Ultimately a clerk found him in the meat department. He had ran Forrest Gump style up and down the aisles of the food section. We we were reunited by the Walmart employees I fell to my knees and squeezed him hard before giving him the "you-scared-Mommy-half-to-death" speech.

I'm ready for an end of 2008 countdown! So, how's your year going?

Worrying Vicariously through My Kids

Well, ok, this title is a little wrong. If it were actually literally true, it would be my kids worrying and me sitting around feeling relaxed about life and playing video games. What I really mean is a bit of turn on the old "living vicariously through our children." Rather than "living" through mine, I feel I am so often worrying on their behalf.

Today's examples

Case #1: Caleb has a fever, chills, congestion, and, well, let's just say I'm REALLY glad he can sit on the potty now! The little guy is not feeling well, AT ALL. Meanwhile, I can't actually know what he's feeling. Does he know the difference between his throat and his neck. He told me earlier that his tongue hurts and he's been sticking his finger down his throat. Could it be Strep? When he had chills this evening his hands and feet were cold and his body looked sort of splotchy, but in a weird sort of circulatory system checking-in kind of way. Hmm, viral or bacterial? He's on Benadryl and I went ahead and got the Amoxicillan prescription filled tonight. In the end, I just want to ask him -- "Does it hurt when you bend your head to your neck?" The ol' let's rule out meningitis test. I feel like I'm worrying and don't have the foggiest idea what's going on in his little body. I give him the meds, put him to bed and pray that his fever doesn't spike in the night.

Case #2: Here's the real motivator for this particular post: Kara and school. When I was growing up, as soon as I knew how to do averages, I would keep track of all of my grades and figure out my own averages all throughout the quarter so that I would know exactly what I was getting come report card time. This does not come as a suprise to most of you. I'm uptight. We know that. I've even been known to ask the teacher if I could copy down all of my grades that were in her grade book just to be sure I hadn't missed anything. I've also been known to configure things in different ways, ie. 10 homework grades averaged together as one grade plus 2 test grades averaged divided by two to weight the tests vs. 12 grades divided by 12. If you haven't given up yet on what I'm saying, maybe you're as nuts about this as I am, or maybe you're just wondering where I'm going with all of this.

So, here I am as a parent. Last year my first born had spent the better portion of the quarter failing spelling and muddling through math. Along comes report card time and she's genuinely suprised to see a B and a C on her report card. I honestly believe that she just figured the teacher pulled out the reports cards, scratched her head, sized up each kid and bam that'ss where the grades came from. As if her teacher were not assessing her abilities and skills, but rather summing up her person in a couple of letters. Here's the kicker, Kara did not actually care about the grades themselves. She was deeply bothered because she had heard that Krispy Kreme gives free donuts for A's and she didn't have any!

Fast forward to today. Today was the last day of the first six weeks. When I learned this I immediately pulled out all of Kara's graded papers and came up with a letter grade for each subject based on all known grades. I was thrilled. It looks like we might be looking at two A's, a B and two C's or possibly two A's, two B's and a C. Either way I'm thinking this is pretty good considering some of Kara's struggles last year. Meanwhile, here I am calculating her grades as if they were my own and in many ways more concerned about them than she is!

Parents Say the Darndest Things

Over the last eight years I've heard myself say some pretty ridiculous things, but this past Sunday was the best, of late.

We were driving home from church. We had run through McDonald's on the way home. I turned around to check on the kids when I caught myself saying this gem:

"Caleb, Don't put the chicken nugget in your sock!!"

It never ceases to amaze me what the kids will come up with. In fact, as I'm writing this, Caleb came running in from the living room saying "I've made a big mess. Come Mommy. Come fix it. I've made a BIG mess." Imagining a blueberry breakfast bar speared into the carpet I proactively approached the situation with a wet paper towel only to discover all of my clean folded laundry inverted onto the floor. "See Mommy I've made a BIG mess." "Caleb, don't play in the laundry." This is what I said to him as I put it all back into the laundry basket, during which time he says "Can I play in it now?" Like somehow I'm going to say "Sure, jump on in. I don't know why I clean this stuff anyhow?" " No, Caleb, you cannot play in the laundry."

A friend of mine without children recently described to me how she handles bedtime when she babysits for her nieces and nephews. She has an abundance of comforters she has purchased over the years and she basically lays them all over her living room floor. Each kid gets a pillow and a blanket to sleep under and they refer to the whole thing as making a nest.

That's what I want. Forget furniture. Forget carpets. I'm going to throw down every blanket I can find and give up. We'll eat there. We'll sleep there and whenever anyone comes over we'll shove the whole thing into the shower behind the shower curtain. And I'll come up with something witty to say without even thinking.

Like "Don't use the shower, our beds are in there." And it'll all make sense!

No New Catastrophes to Report

Believe it or not, things are going pretty well at the moment. Our delightful little boy appears to have been returned to us from the powers that be and he is mastering the art of toilet usage quite well. I can report that it has been days since I have had to change a messy diaper and he is quite proud of himself for knowing when he needs to use the bathroom. The beauty in this is that he will be able to attend the class for three-year-olds at his preschool program and that was the goal all along. As for his general attitude, we are getting mostly hugs and kisses and not so much meanness.

Kara is our shining star 3rd Grader. After a pretty rough 2nd Grade year where we were less than thrilled with her attitude and her teacher's attentiveness, this year seems to be getting off to a great start. Our biggest praise is in the area of self-motivation. On Friday evening after a week of practicing her spelling words she asked if the teacher had sent home this next week's words yet, because she wanted to study them before bed. Can I say "WOW!!" Although her teacher had not sent them home, I was able to find another teacher within the school district who had posted them on his class website. Hot off the presses -- next week's spelling words!! Self-motivation will get you everywhere with me! I wrote them out for her on index cards, as I've done each week and she took it upon herself to do one of her weekly spelling assignments. She wrote each of the first ten words five times before laying her notebook aside and falling asleep. Last night she worked on the other ten words, again completely of her own motivation. I'm loving this!!! Even if the grades aren't perfect yet, her attitude is far better than it has ever been before and the grades will eventually come with practice. And, yes, we are praising her considerably for all her efforts!

I had planned to write more, but it appears I am out of writing time for a bit. So, I will end here and leave you all wondering what other exciting happenings are going on in our little lives...

Lost & Found

MISSING: One sweet, loving, generally well-behaved blonde two-year-old boy.
FOUND: One strong-willed, smart-mouthed, full-of-himself blonde three-year-old boy!

MISSING: One brown-haired, blue-eyed, soft-spoken, bad-spelling 2nd Grader.
FOUND: One bright-eyed, brown-haired, energetic, smart, school-loving 3rd Grader!

Beggars can't be choosers. While we're working through things with the little munchkin, we're thrilled to death to see Kara excited about school. Yesterday she brought home her Science book to show us and was so excited to learn all about the vocabulary words that she would learn and the topics that she would be studying this first year of science. She has spent some time each evening this week working on her spelling words without too much complaining and they actually seem to be sinking in a little. We're working on that, but it's going well!

Her teacher is an absolute answer to prayer. I had decided a few weeks ago to volunteer to be the room mom and I've been praying that it would be a good partnership this year to help Kara succeed in Third Grade. Those are EXACTLY the words her teacher spoke to me pesonally on orientation day! Praise God! There are 17 kids in her class versus the 25 kids from last year and she is in a portable classroom, so the room seems fresh and new and private. It's a very large room and it's carpeted and the kids will have their own mini-fridge for snacks. Kara was thrilled to write her name in cursive this week and seems to be loving everything about school for the first time since Pre-K.

As for that three-year-old that showed up recently. Well, at least he can poop in the potty now, and someday he'll turn four and snap out this!

More Rain

Today I discovered rain in Kara's room. Nope -- not a metaphor this time!! It was literally raining in Kara's room!!! It was about 6:00pm and I had just gotten off the phone with Thom who was about two exits away from being home. I walked downstairs to clean up a few things in Kara's room. As I descended the stairs I heard a strange continual plunking coming from her room. Typically these sorts of sounds come from toys left to fend for themselves as more interesting play prospects beckon from other parts of the house. This is perpetually true with battery operated trains. I frequently find them sadly embanked against walls behind dressers or under the bed. At any rate, this sound was a little different and I very quickly discovered the source. It was the sound of a dripping ceiling plunking dime-sized water pellets onto a plastic surface!

AHHHHHAAAHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! OK -- I don't think I screamed, but I was thinking it!!!!!

I flew up the stairs to determine what bathroom catastrophe might be causing this much water!

CAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Again I don't think I actually said this, but I thought it REALLY LOUD!!!

Upon arriving at the door to my bedroom I could see the water pooling on the carpet outside the master bathroom. After fumbling with the child safety lock (don't ask!) I flung open the bathroom door to something out of a bad movie. Standing water on the floor, water pouring over the edge of the counter and the sink on full blast both plugged and blocked by a water glass!!!!

Did I mention? CAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEBBBBBBBBB!!!!

Bill Cosby once did a routine on parents with one child and how they aren't really parents because they always know who did it. Well, sometimes even parents with two children KNOW who did it. As some of you might know we have been full swing ahead in potty training for the last week. It's going great, except obviously that child safety lock hasn't been in full use lately. As a "big boy" he's had full access to the bathroom and has taken himself to the potty a number of times. Little did I know what mischief he was accomplishing today!

About two minutes after I discover this disaster I see Thom's car in the drive. I quickly threw open the front door to yelp -- HELP, MAJOR DISASTER COME QUICK -- as I paused on the landing before returning to the torrential downpour in my daughter's room.

The story gets kind of boring and long here, but you get the jist of it. We banished Caleb to his room for the evening after showing him what he had done, partly to promote remorse and partly to get him out of the way. He was appropriately sorry, though seemed to have a better grasp on why it was wrong to feed the turtle ALL of the turtle food. That was an offense from earlier today!

We were pleased that we hadn't returned my parents carpet cleaner and we worked hard to make sure our home might someday return to it's normal look and smell.

Now I'm just searching for a nice rain cliche to finish this off... something about rainbows or silver linings or something. I can't think of one, guess you'll have to take a raincheck :-)

Interior decorators in the 70s were onto something

Thick, brown and orange shag carpeting hides a multitude of sins -- particularly those created by juice boxes and sippy cups.

Giant orange flowered wall paper in the kitchen -- hides the marks made when you use the wall as a backboard for the three pointer of landing something in the trashcan.

All white kitchens vs. warm Tuscan colors -- means it actually looks clean when you've cleaned it! Don't anyone move -- I found the countertops!

Avocado green toilets -- I'm potty training Caleb -- do I really need to explain this one!

70s here we come!!!

Craziness of Grief

For those of you who may not know my Grandmother passed away on Wednesday, July 16th. She lived more than a week longer than the hospice nurse had expected on Monday the 7th. Before her passing everyone in the family was able to say their goodbyes as was she and by the time she left us we were all ready to see her released from her suffering.

The weekend of the funeral was especially chaotic for my immediate family as we had planned Caleb's birthday party for the morning of the 19th. As God, the fates, luck and the funeral home would have it that turned out to be the same day as the funeral. Thanks to many wonderful friends I was able to plan and be present for everything necesary in the days leading up to the family events. On Friday the 18th we had visitation from 3pm to 8pm. It was a constant stream of family and friends paying their respects. My grandmother was one of nine children and most of them had a few children of their own. Add in grandchildren and some great-grandchildren and it was a full house all day.

Saturday morning from 10-12 we held Caleb's Thomas the Tank Engine birthday party in our church fellowship. I felt blessed to have with us two of my oldest and dearest friends and their kids and two of my closest new friends as well as a new friend in our neighborhood. The kids all seemed to have a great time, despite the fact that I was about to turn around and attend my grandmother's funeral. For Caleb it was a success because he had the "Thomas cake" that he was expecting for his birthday, for me it was a wonderful, joyous success in the midst of sadness.

So, a few friends watched my kids while Thom and I went back to the funeral home for two more hours of visitation and then the funeral and graveside service. Quite a few of us stayed to watch the men from the funeral home actually lower the casket into the ground and cover it. It was sad, but supremely true. It was one of the truest moments I have ever experienced. While as a Christian I believe that my grandmother's soul, which I will call, her personality - is in heaven with Jesus, her body is most definitely at that specific spot on the earth until Christ returns. Having moved a lot in my life most of my grieving has been over saying goodbye and knowing that life continues on without me in a place and with people I'm leaving behind. Not so with death. She is gone from the places she has always been. Her presence in our lives is gone and left only with a void. She is exactly where she was placed on the day of her funeral -- and at the same time rejoicing with God. A difficult and perplexing thought that easily leads me to understand why God cautioned against communicating with the dead. On the one hand it seems utterly futile and on the other hand they have an enviable perspective that we cannot gain this side of death.

Meanwhile on that Saturday, we came home and got the kids and ate dinner with the rest of the family at a meal that was provided by my grandmother's church. After the meal Mom & Dad, Thom and I, the kids and my brother and sister-in-law all returned to my parents house. We were the epitomy of exhausted. We were literally collapsing in various corners of the house too tired to entertain or even be entertained.

Sunday came with the need to go to church and say some words of thanksgiving to those who had helped me through the week and taken the time to come to the visitation. Sunday was also my sister-in-law's birthday and my brother's birthday had been on the 16th -- the day my grandmother had died. So, we had planned to celebrate on the 20th and celebrate we would. We all gathered at John & Sara's house with gifts and food and smiles and tried our best to relax. John played a great collection of 80s music and all was good, so long as none of us thought about it all very much.

It's been a little over a week since then. We have all spent time trying to get our feet back on the ground -- catching up on laundry, dusting, potty-training, 3rd grade spelling, etc.

I'm exhausted, but recovering.

Timeless Words

There are moment in conversations we remember for years and years to come. I had one of those moments yesterday. But the story doesn't really start there.

It might start 27 years ago when my brother was born. Or maybe it started about four years ago when a male friend of mine asked how old I was. After nearly dying from embarrassment, and considering the words "Smart enough to sit alone, old enough to know better." a favorite quote of my grandmother's, I opted for the honest truth. "31, I'll be 32 in July." Upon further questioning my friend ultimately answered that he was curious because I was so "young and fun and all." Yep, at the ripe old age of 31, nearly 32, it was some sort of miracle, that I, the mother of a then four-year-old could be considered "young and fun and all." I'm not likely to forget these words anytime soon, but a conversation yesterday sort of served as some kind of karmic restitution for my friend's words.

I was sitting on a patio chair in my brother's back yard, a sort of English garden off the back door of his enormous house when his neighbor stopped by. It was my sister-in-law's birthday and he was there to visit and wish her well. This gentleman is significantly older than my brother and sister-in-law who are now 27 and 26 respectively and they are good friends within the neighborhood. So, you can imagine my surprise when he asked the question, from clear across the table, of birth-order between my brother and I having PRESUMED than John was older!

Ahh!! It was a glorious moment!

Grinning I replied, "Do you really think John is older? Do you know how old John is?" I was clearly assuming the man thought more of John's receding hairline than of his birth certificate. Nope. He knew exactly how old John was! OK- then. Now I'm in the "You're kidding right?" Nope. He genuinely thought I was younger than my brother!!! I politely said. "No, I'm the older sister. In fact, I'm nine years older." He nearly jumped out of his chair! He was shocked! He made a nice comment about my skin and the conversation moved on.

I remember when Thom proposed and when they handed me my babies. Those were the best moments of my life. Yesterday's comment about my age may very well be my next favorite moment!

The Longest Two Days

On Monday a week ago the hospice nurse told my family that my grandmother had one to two days left. That was a week ago. The nurse has been scheduled to come twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays. Last Thursday she said she was surprised to be visiting my grandmother again, having believed that she would have passed away already. Imagine her surprise at visiting her again this morning.

You can not imagine how long these "two days" have been.

When someone in the medical field has told you that a loved one has two to three months to live, you sort of believe them, but you know that some people die sooner and some live longer. Everyone has heard those stories of people living months, even years, longer than expected and you know that no one knows for sure when it's someone's time to go. The days and weeks go by and you see good days and bad and the illness progresses. When someone says your loved one is down to the last couple of weeks, you understand that the time is short, but you remember that no one knows these things for certain. When someone starts saying it's a day or two, you know they really mean it could happen at any moment, so everyone should be prepared, right? You certainly don't think they're off by a week or more!!

Last week was the longest "day or two" any of us have ever had. It was the weeklong vigil for the coming end that didn't come. By the end of the week we were all running out of words. We've said our "I love yous," our goodbyes, and our plans for how we will make it when she does leave us. Even her pastor came over on Thursday to sort of, well, send her off. Friday morning we thought we were entering the final stage of her borrowed time when SHE told my Aunt to call "the boys" (my dad and uncle) because it was time for her to go. -- her words!! We gathered. We laughed. We cried. We sat in silence watching her breathing for an interminable amount of time, and then, well, nothing. She didn't die. Someone broke the vigil and got up. Someone else went to the bathroom. Eventually my grandmother asked to be moved from the hospital bed to her own bed. OK! Here we go. We all have notions about dying in our own beds, maybe that was what was holding her back. So, we moved her. We cried some more. We prayed. We hugged each other. We waited for her to sleep, to rest, to drift away. She finally fell asleep with my dad reading the Bible to her.

But it still isn't over. She awoke on Saturday. She talked with her daughter about the new shopping district in town. She wanted some coffee. My cousins took her outside onto her patio in her wheel chair. Still not the end yet.

Sunday and Monday brought more sleeping and more painful unrest, but still death waits.

It's been the longest two days.

It Really Is Raining Today

I awoke this morning around 7am to the sound of rain crashing into the side of our house. It was a terrible and beautiful sound. The powerful crackle of thunder and the torrential downpour were a welcome sound this morning. My last thoughts last night had been of my grandmother and of the need to wake early and water my garden. One of my great aunts had mumbled something yesterday about watering in the morning rather than in the evening and my plan was to heed her wisdom. So, the thought of God watering the grass and the vegetables for me was a welcomed "Good morning."

These last few weeks have been full and wonderful and terrible. Despite any of the daily successes in our little lives the looming knowledge that my grandmother is still with us yet mostly gone and certainly going has been the dark cloud on the horizon, the looming knowledge that our party could be rained out at any moment.

Last week was especially like this. My aunt and my grandmother on my mom's side came down from Indiana to spend the week with us. A few days before their arrival my grandmother here took a turn for the worse. Sunday a week ago we thought we were going to lose her. The family gathered and she pulled through. She is bed-ridden now, on oxygen and mostly non-responsive. Each day since then has been progressively worse. While my aunt and grandmother were visiting we tried to focus on the celebrations we had planned -- a surprise 50th party for my aunt, my own birthday, 4th of July and seeing Kara off to spend a week in Indiana with them--her own private summer vacation. All the while, the knowledge of my grandmother's worsening condition loomed heavy on everyone's hearts.

On Monday of the this week the hospice nurse came. She performed all of the requisite medical tasks and concluded that my grandmother has maybe a day or two left. That was Monday. This is Wednesday. Her breathing is shallow. Her body is jaundiced. She sleeps, a lot. The family gathered yesterday and will likely gather again today. It is uncomfortable and quiet. The sound of the oxygen machine. The look of the living room with the hospital bed where the couch used to be. Everyone watching and listening comfortable with the deep, congested snoring, nervous when she skips a breath. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Great aunts. Women gathering around her bedside holding her hand. Men silently supporting their wives on lounge chairs in front of the TV and on lawn chairs in the garage. The sons sitting with their mother and assuring her that she has raised them well. The family vigil, a cultural phenomenon. Intended as comfort, yet uncomfortable at best.

Today is Wednesday. It's been two days since the nurse said it would be two days and it's raining this morning.

Kara & Friends in Our Backyard!

 

gotta check the lawn

It has been raining a long time. I was glad when it started. Fresh on the heels of several days of sun, I was ready to see the fledgling green shoots of grass in the back yard get a nice cool bath. Perhaps more will be encouraged to join in. Maybe some of the bare patches here and there will be overgrown by a thick knot of fescue and bluegrass.

I spend a lot of time thinking about grass these days. I get up in the morning and look at it. I wander around the back yard peering at corners and guaging the topsoil, squinting at rock, snarling at weeds—and sometimes pulling them altogether. I keep hoping that with enough effort and care, I’ll pull a smooth green lawn out of the lumpy clay square that we bought two months ago. There goes Caleb chasing a soccer ball, and there is Kara throwing a frisbee. There they are in my imagination. But that’s probably not going to happen this year. This year is just pulling suburban hope out of the stubby ground in lumps.

Owning a home should be enjoined by everyone who can, if only for the conversational opportunities. Every man within earshot has opinions aplenty about every aspect of house maintenance and upkeep. And if you can’t find a passerby or the family isn’t answering their cell, then Lowes and Home Depot employ people who would be happy to spend twenty minutes dissecting the merits or demerits of Brazilian versus Italian tile. Owning a home is like paying a fee to relieve awkward silences for the rest of your life. It has been a tremendous relief for me. And, even better, the conversation you’ve purchased isn’t useless small-talk, you actually learn something to boot! Owning a home and buying an iPod: I recommend them both for value per dollar spent.

Braces seem like they might offer the same deal. Financial outlay now for minute-by-minute returns, good returns. A straight investment—even beautiful. Kara got some just this morning, and makes them look absolutely adorable.

One final bit of housecleaning. A recent discovery of bkkeepr.com has got me twittering, so you’ll see my feed on the left hand side. I twitter under the name socialtrinity, same as the LibraryThing account.

It's raining...

well, not really, but you know that expression "when it rains, it pours" today I realized I had taken about us much sadness as I could for one week and it just seems to keep on raining.

after days of holding it together and being ok with this or that prayer request or concern or situation, tonight I just feel like crying. My grandmother...is very likely losing a battle with cancer. She has been sick for about a year, but was only diagnosed a few months ago. She wants to get better, but her body is weak and her mind is growing weaker. She is thin, so thin and so quiet. She is not the person of strength that she has always been. She is frail rather than focused. She is having trouble talking rather than asserting her opinions. She is slipping away in front of us and it is not easy.

meanwhile....one of my best friends is struggling with a very sick little boy who has had a high fever for close to a weak with an unknown cause.... another friend gave birth early, and at home, with virtually no warning and her little one is in the NICU at the hospital... and another friend called me yesterday to tell catch me up on the last year of her life, during which time she has battled with Hodgkin's disease and, praise the Lord -- is in remission... and today, the last straw was finding out that my son's 25-year-old, pregnant day school teacher was just informed that she has cancer.

in the midst of this week, Thom came home one day only to inform me that 10% of Thomas Nelson had been let go that day, and while we thanked God that Thom was not among that 10 percent, the day was hard for everyone as it is difficult to feel for so many people experiencing such shocking news all at once.

so, although I know the adage that when it rains it pours, I'm really wishing for an umbrella or at least an awning under which to shield myself for a while.

Easter Picture

 


After about 10 different attempts, our pastor's wife, Anna, was able to get both the kids smiling at the same time! The only bad thing was that I wasn't able to get my hair trimmed before Easter! Better picture next time!