The Big Questions

If you are a female who has been to even one women-only church event in your life, 100% chance you have talked about the Martha and Mary story.  (Summary for the menfolk who may not have heard this a thousand times:  Jesus is at their house, Mary sits and listens to him, Martha works in the kitchen and gets annoyed that Mary isn’t helping her, Jesus tells them that Mary did the right thing by listening to him.)  It’s the same questions every time.  Are you more of a Martha or a Mary?  How can we take time out of our busy lives to be less like Martha and more like Mary?  All I can ever think about is how all those people were going to want to eat anyway; someone has to turn on the coffee pot.

Here’s another question:  Are you more of a Laura or a Mary? 

Do you keep your sunbonnet on your head with the straps tied and keep your stitches tiny and even as you embroider a handkerchief?  Or do you throw your sunbonnet off so it hangs down your back as you secretly help your pa gather straw, subsequently keeping your family alive through a winter of relentless blizzards?

I like to think we’re all a little of both.  We’ll see which way Holly swings this summer.  The sunbonnet pattern is courtesy of The Purl Bee.  Thank God all my Little House books are previously out on loan, because I have a million books on my to-read list, but this sunbonnet would have sent me right back into that series again.

The most meaningful insight I’ve ever had from the Martha and Mary story came from a conversation with my [noted Luke theologian] sister Casey, sitting on the couch in my living room.  She said ignore the headings in the bible that divide stories and read them in context.  Mary and Martha comes right after the story of the Good Samaritan, and the stories go together.  The Good Samaritan is about how you should act with people, the Martha and Mary is how you should act with God.  So put that in your back pocket. 

Ninja Turtle Dog, Ninja Turtle Dog, What Do You See?

While our home is full of craft supplies and tools and there are typically projects in progress on any blank surface, I’m not great at sitting down with my kids to walk them through a project.  More often I have something I want to work on, so I’ll just get a pile of supplies for the boys and gather at the kitchen table so they can create something while I work on my thing.  Great for learning to be creative, not great for learning any specific technique. 

Recently, Rush has really be into art.  During what would have been naptime yesterday, I found him on the floor with felt, elastic, pinking shears, and glue, making a butterfly.  He appears to have a creative process similar to mine, which includes sitting on the floor in the middle of a big pile of glue sticks and paper or fabric, and seeing what comes together.  I’m so proud of him for being so creative, yet also feeling a little guilty for not sitting down with him to work on making butterflies (or whatever) together.

So while Holly was on her late afternoon nap, we all headed for the kitchen table.  Rush had asked questions about the pictures in a library book earlier in the week, so we sat down to make Eric Carle inspired art.

Rush loved making a “Ninja Turtle Dog”; Tate lost interest pretty quickly.

As Rush moved on to his flower, the situation, like all fun times, rapidly deteriorated into tears and shoving.  I started sweating (note to self- don’t make coffee in the afternoon when it’s hot outside) and getting annoyed that the bickering and cutting popcorn with scissors was keeping me from finishing my own project, which I had gradually started making instead of focusing all my attention on their projects.  Then, as it always goes when a box of crayons comes out, I outlasted both of them and sat by myself to finish up.

Structure is just another reason that school is a good thing.

Firsts

Holly tried her first “solid” food the other day.

It went well, but after trying again for the next two days and having her push it out of her mouth to suck on her fingers, we’re going to backtrack and wait until she seems more into it.

Holly also recently had her first visit to the zoo.  She decided to stay awake for most of the trip.

It was our second time to go to the zoo on a rainy day, and it’s not too shabby. 

I’m having trouble thinking in paragraphs right now.  Holly was the only one who napped today, so….time to post these pictures and move on.

Alleluia, Alleluia

The baptisms of my children are some of the most important days in my life.  And probably because I in some way grasp that, they are also slightly overwhelming.  I will cry through every single baptism I go to, even the ones where I don’t even know the people, maybe especially those because of the understanding of our connection in the Body of Christ.  But for my own children, there is so much going on (Did Tate really just jump right in front of the altar and rip his jacket off?) and as a parent or godparent, so many important vows to make (Will you be responsible for seeing that the child you present is brought up in the Christian faith and life?  I will, with God’s help) that I can’t seem to really let it soak in fully, in the moment.  I’m so grateful that every baptism includes a renewal of our own baptismal covenant, so that when I celebrate my nephew’s baptism next weekend, or the baptism of any child at any service, these baptisms tie to my children’s baptisms…and to my own baptism, and to all baptisms.  Alleluia, Alleluia.

In the wake of preparation and a full weekend, I’ve been rereading the service for Holy Baptism in the Book of Common Prayer-

We thank you, Father, for the water of Baptism.  In it we are buried with Christ in his death.  By it we share in his resurrection.  Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.  Therefore in joyful obedience to your Son, we bring into his fellowship those who come to him in faith, baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Somehow each of our children’s set of godparents has seemed to be a perfect match for that child.  For Holly, her godparents are both people we met in our early days at Palmer and who have been friends to us from the beginning.  We ask a lot of godparents-

Will you by your prayers and witness help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ? 
I will, with God’s help.

I’m ever thankful for our children’s godparents for agreeing to take that on with us.   Helping a child grow into the full stature of Christ is way beyond the skill set of parents alone.  I’m thankful that everyone in the service vows to do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ.   

Family and godparents came over early in the day for brunch before we headed to the Easter Vigil service that evening.   I need to offer hearty and enthusiastic thanks for all the help in making the day possible. 

To my mom for making fabulous sugar cookie favors, to Trent’s mom for making her world famous sock-it-to-me cakes, to Kim for making extremely festive and cute cupcakes, to Kelley for being the Harry Winston of the family and keeping Holly in accessories, to Hunter, who I could hand a recipe to and say “please make this”, to Trent’s dad for hand washing all our dishes, to all our family for travelling and celebrating with us and supporting us in countless ways:  thank you!

One prayer from the service stood out-

Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of you and wonder in all your works. 

Is there anything better than praying that for Holly, and for Rush and Tate, at their baptisms?  I’m thankful that was prayed for me at my own baptism.  I want to pray that every day, for everyone.  (When I say, “I want to pray that every day” don’t get the wrong idea that I’m actually doing it.  I would like to, yet historically I will forget.  The courage to will and to persevere?  Indeed.)

We could pretty much go through every part of the service and every part would be my favorite part.  Because what about this moment-

Let us welcome the newly baptized.  This is the point when people get overly excited and start clapping, forgetting that we welcome the newly baptized by first saying –and this makes me tear up every time-

We receive you into the household of God.  Confess the faith of Christ crucified, proclaim his resurrection, and share with us in his eternal priesthood.

Then clap and give the peace.  The world needs more of this kind of joy.

I finally got why people will reach out to touch the Pope or travel hundreds of miles to see some earthly item.  Even today when the oil has long since soaked into her skin, I keep smelling Holly’s forehead, trying to inhale something sacred.  We just want to experience something holy.  It was a glorious Easter Sunday to smell the oil from her baptism each time I gave her a kiss.

Easter morning was as joyful as ever.  It was also a major miracle to me that we were able to make it to church on time and all the kids made it through the service.  I was laying awake at 4:30 in the morning in that odd mode of being too tired to sleep, fretting because getting everyone up and ready and to the service seemed impossible, but it all worked out.  After church, Tate really let loose holding Holly’s hands and dancing in the pews to the organ postlude.  Getting home and taking pictures with jackets, ties, and smiles, was honestly just too much to ask.  I’ll take making it to church over the photograph any day.

Two-A-Days

It was 6:50 this morning when Rush and Tate were told to put on their shoes and then sent into the backyard to run laps.  If they want to get up with the sun and use their muscles and voices, I might just plant crops for them to harvest.  They can greet the morning with a basket of grain and a hearty spiritual. 

If I had one wish, it would be for all of God’s creation to live together in justice, harmony, and peace.  If I had two wishes, the first would be for all of God’s creation to live together in justice, harmony, and peace, and the second would be for someone to come to my house and give me a haircut while I eat Taco Bell and watch reruns of Wife Swap on tv.  If the person cutting my hair is an actual cosmetologist, I would like to pay $25 for the haircut, plus whatever he or she wants from Taco Bell.  If the person cutting my hair is just someone who wants to give it a try, I will pay you in whatever you want from Taco Bell.

The second wish sounds attainable, if elusive.  The first…sigh.  I already find myself using this refrain with the boys:  You can’t control what other people do, but you can control what you do.  That’s going to be said a lot over the next, oh, rest of my life as a parent.  Doing what I can, plus a fat dose of prayer (I happened upon these Prayers of the People today) and I can at least work on my part for Wish #1.  Let us remember the poor, take care of those in distress, stop fantasizing about tacos and haircuts and do the work of the gospel!

If Trent and I are doing nothing else right as parents, we have this:  Rush has talked about foot washing* with great excitement and anticipation more times this week than he has about Easter eggs.  He’s counting down the days to Holly’s baptism and to seeing extended family.  He’ll get pumped for candy, but it’s not his priority right now.  Amen and Amen.

 

*Foot washing always seems so very un-Episcopalian, yet here we are again.  My favorite foot washing experience was last year’s Maundy Thursday service, when I washed my children’s feet, then sat down only to have them look at me like, “Hey lady, no way.  We’re done here.”  That sounds about right.

That’s the Way We Do Proud Mary

It’s Holy Week, also known as Answer Intense Theological Questions Week.  Holly will be baptized this weekend at the Easter Vigil service, so that plays into the questioning as well.  A seemingly simple question rapidly becomes a test of not only knowing exactly what you believe, but knowing it well enough to articulate it.  You have to UNDERSTAND something to be able to explain it to a 3 or 5 year old.  And these are 3 and 5 year old Episcopalians, so they want real information.  And it’s 6:45 in the morning and the coffee is still brewing.

Rush and Tate have been baptizing each other by getting their fingers wet and making the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads.  They baptized Holly while she was taking a bath the other day and Tate baptized me today with condensation from the window.  It’s very holy and sacramental around here when it’s not off the walls bonkers crazy.

Back in the days before anyone had heard about Keeping Calm and Carrying On, before any dude in a truck could have a Keep Calm and Eat Bacon bumper sticker, my BFF Kate had the poster, probably pulled straight out of that couple’s shop basement in London.  It’s so annoying to have something unique and then everyone else gets it.  So noted:  Kate started it.

Keeping calm, is that a thing?  Mwahahaha..that’s the sound of Rush and Tate’s laughter.  It was raining and chilly (what?) today, so we were stuck inside for most of the day.  Included in the festivities were no naps, lots of crying, someone getting hit with a shovel, someone trying to scale the fridge, someone trying to saw our new carpet with a cake server, screaming, screaming, screaming, Tate wearing boxer shorts instead of pants because Monday is laundry day and somehow last week he wore every single pair of shorts and pants in his drawer, and the glory of everything.

Last week we went to register Rush for Kindergarten (!) and the night before I was telling Trent that I hoped it would go well with keeping Rush and Tate quiet and contained and Holly happy while I accurately filled out important paperwork.  He started trying to figure out a plan for us, maybe a way I could go with less than three kids with me, but I stopped him.  That’s just the way we do things around here, the new standard.  You see, we never ever do nothing nice and easy.  We always do it nice and rough.

Yummers

Holly just entered the super drooly phase of being a baby.  She found her hands and wants to EAT THEM.  Trent made a very sweet little wooden bird teething ring for her and we’re trying to get her to chew on that at least sometimes. Not that she’s teething just yet- just very, very chewy.

We pry open her little fingers, wrap them around the ring, then direct it to her mouth.

Within seconds, the ring falls onto her wrist like a bracelet.

Then we help her prop it back into her mouth.

Holly is modeling a dress that I made for her that is so short, it was actually more of a shirt.  Luckily the line between skirt and shirt is blurred for babies.  She was pulling the bottom up to chew on it, but alas we couldn’t get her to recreate that moment to capture on film. 

Ultimately, her favorite things to chew on are her fingers.

The New Phonebooks Are Here!!!

Surprisingly, we weren’t the only ones outside cheering when our new, *big* recycling bin was delivered.  It feels so fancy.

It’s Not Like Picking Pumpkins

Strawberry picking is a great yearly event for us, excluding that moment when I realize I’ve voluntarily put myself in a field with buckets to pick berries with 2 children and a baby strapped to my chest. 

Then I feel the breeze, look up at the sky, and think, this is my job.  Holy cow, life is good.

Realization:  Based on Holly’s strawberry picking outfit, it could be the case that I’ve trained my children to want to wear costumes every day.  We’re participators.

Later that afternoon, when we were all stuffed with strawberries, I noticed the box of vegetables that we picked up at Froberg’s and executed an overly dramatic hair flip while saying, “oh I have to get a picture of this for our blog.” 

I felt so hip (insert high schooler rolling her eyes- “if you have to say it’s hip, it’s not hip”) with a box of locally grown veggies in the kitchen, yet much less so while eating turnips for dinner.