further up and further in

In lieu of an afternoon snack

2010-06-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

After a lovely morning of playing with some of our favorite friends, I waded into a difficult afternoon. My little Audrey struggles so badly with leaving friends. She wailed her way into her nap, shouting for her dear friends. Tiny Vivienne struggled to return to sleep after a too soon rest in the car on the way home. Then, I visited my prized tomatoes on the front porch who seemed to have been eaten up alive by some evil pest while we were away this morning. I love these little plants, and I began to worry for them. This string of events sent me racing to the kitchen for a some sort of food that I would take away all this afternoon angst. But, no! One month into a foray in Weight Watchers with my friends stopped me. " Sit with your anger, your worry, your overdone-ness," my friend would have said to me, had she been in my kitchen; "Feel it," I hear her say. So I sat in my nasty feelings for awhile. How do I focus on pointing my daughter to Jesus when she struggles rather than just trying to manage her and control her? How do I swallow my own pride when she resists obedience upon leaving friends' homes? How do I learn patience when my baby can't sleep, and I really, really need her to? Why does my little garden struggle? Why can't it just be easy to grow a pretty little cherry tomato? I wasn't hungry, I just wanted something to satiate my pains. I need Gospel, not cake!

I am revived now by Gospel. I can't parent in my own strength. I can't garden. But, Jesus can. And he condescends to use me, to infuse me with his strength and power. To do more than I can ask or imagine... (Jesus, I can imagine a lot...)

I feel better, but I am still really sad about my tomatoes. I think they might be dying. So, I decided to think about birthday parties. And I spent some time in a little shop on etsy called Hey Yo Yo. The name was enough to cheer me. And there were striped paper straws. Gingham cupcake papers. Adorable little things to top cakes. Not as satisfying as Gospel, but it made me forget about my tomatoes for awhile. This pretty little fan was pictured in the shop, and it gave me a smile. I like to celebrate and throw pretty little parties.

And after all, I am bound for a place where I am sure that I can grow a happy tomato and feast on it with friends as I celebrate the Creator. There will be no more crying, no more missed nap, no more running to things that can't satisfy. "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand; and cast a wishful eye; on Canaan's bright and happy land; where my possessions lie."

Dazzling glory

2010-06-21T17:18:00.000-07:00

Hold the prism of God's Word up to the light of ordinary living so it is diffused into a rich spectrum of biblical color that dazzles and shows the glory of God in ordinary life.

Tedd and Margy Tripp in Instructing a Child's Heart

A check-up

2010-05-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

These are my dreams for the year. I wanted to see how I was doing ...

cook simple, tasty meals for my family

this one is going pretty well. we started getting a CSA box which helps so much. my favorites are fava bean ricotta bruschetta and collard greens. i'm finding lots of new things I love.

wade through a couple thoughtful books on art history

umm, yeah. that is not so much happening.

linger in the stack of delicious unread novels on my bookshelf

again, no reading going on over here.

grow something that my family can eat and share with our friends

tomatoes and strawberries are in pots on our porch. growing. growing. hopefully, we will have a little harvest to share this summer.

pretend with Audrey

we cut out Little House in the Big Woods paper dolls. but we need to do way more pretending together!!

immerse myself in the gospel

i feel like I have dabbled in the gospel. i need a plunge in the deep end.

snuggle with Vivienne

daily, with pleasure

order my photos and make baby books

go to a concert with Jay

tickets for Avett Brothers, bought!

play with my friends

does joining weight watchers with my friends count? no? some room for work here.

take day trips with my girls

not enough ...

adventure in NYC with Audrey

doesn't look like this will happen, but I'm re-imagining some time in cities with my big girl. we have a plan for Chicago and San Francisco this summer.

be intentional at my work

still room for improvement.

plan my days

still feeling like life happens to us. reading a lot about simplicity. hoping and planning for a quiet simple summer.

rejoice always; pray continually

asking the Holy Spirit for a peaceful, joyful spirit.

What we look like

2010-05-11T07:16:00.000-07:00

Photographs of our family

by the wonderful katie prentiss

Audrey, 4 yrs.

Vivienne, 7 mos.

Laura, 34 yrs.

Jay, 38 yrs.

the japanese tea garden and the shakespeare garden

at golden gate park, san francisco

Consider the lilies

2010-04-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

Audrey was supposed to be in 2 weddings this summer. I ordered this dress for her to wear to the events surrounding the weddings. One wedding was postponed, and the other turned out to be pretty casual. The dress arrived today. It is so incredible. I am going to have to invent formal occasions to promote the wearing of it. I feel a formal tea for little girls in our future. It is mette by kristin rasmussen and can be found on etsy.

I really like clothes. Especially children's clothes. And very especially ones made by hand or small designers. I have been hesitant to share many of my thoughts about them because of judgement. I love people to think highly of me, and I know that there are lots of good reasons not to think about and spend money on children's clothing. But, in a small start to a lifelong effort to expunge my approval idol, I hope to share some of the beautiful things I love and why I love them. Like all things, clothes can be very good or very bad and sometimes both good and bad at the same time. And, I'll admit that sometimes I use thinking about them and buying them to cover up bad places in me that God should be filling up and fixing. But, in spite of that, let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. God provided clothing to Adam and Eve as they left the garden. It was a tender thing. To cover up their shame. To give them back a little of the freedom and dignity they once completely enjoyed in their nakedness. God likes clothes, I think. "Consider the lilies of the field," it says. Aren't they beautifully dressed? Don't worry about what you will wear. God will provide beautifully for you. I think on any budget, whether large or small, and even when using clothes shared among friends, we can make beauty. Not for its own sake, but to glorify the creator of beauty. To mirror the lilies. To show that we are beautifully provided for and given lovely dignity as his created ones.

In my remember

2010-04-19T14:24:00.001-07:00

Today when the two of us were alone in the car, Audrey said, "I keep hearing baby Lola's music in my remember." In my remember, I have been hearing my grandmother's voice, smelling the boxwood planted in the numerous gardens of the colonial American historical sites I visited while growning up, tasting the french-cut frozen green beans soaked in the syrup from the pancakes of my favorite childhood meal my dad used to make for me, and the feeling of reading a really thought-provoking academic article or coming up with some wow-idea for an essay or term paper. What is in your remember today?

Art history in action

2010-03-16T21:21:00.000-07:00

My sister-in-law sent me a link to this video for my birthday yesterday. It made me very happy. I think it proves the value of introduction to art history courses. My favorite is the recreation of Les Meninas by Velazquez. But, the reference to David's Death of Marat is fun, too.

The Codices of Childhood, a beginning

2010-03-10T13:59:00.000-08:00

If there is one thing we like around here, it is books. It is my easiest love. I like good, fresh, well-made food, but I can cave in pretty quickly for McDonald's french fries and Chipotle guacamole. I like good clothes, but the washing and ironing can make my passion run cold. But, good books... they are charming with a little dust, and I find it so simple to overlook the poor ones in exchange for the pleasure of hunting down the best ones. The only problem is where to fit them all into our little house. We could probably open a small library specializing in children's literature and early modern illustrated books with a splash of Steinbeck for a rainy morning and a taste of the Bronte sisters for a late, lonely night. (I love reading the gloomy, dark parts of Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre while I wait for Jay when he has to be out late.)

Right now, my attention is focused on our children's books. Our collection began with my own little childhood library, well-edited by my mother. I started to read to Audrey from her first night at home. Over time, I wandered through many libraries and meandered through lots of bookstores, collecting tiny gems along the way. I want a venue to share our some of the favorite books we have secreted away on our shelves, ones we turn to over and over or those that we borrow so frequently from the library that they feel that they at least in part belong to us. So on occasion, I will post entries about the contents of our collection. For fun, I think I'll call these entries The Codices of Childhood. (Codex is the Latin term for book and codices is its plural form.) Yes, I'm a nerd.

Pictured above is the cover of my favorite book from Audrey's babyhood. I found our copy at a children's clothing consignment shop for a dollar when Audrey was about one year old. I'd not heard of it before then, but it is really quite famous I think and was given a Caldecott Honor Award for its illustrations. We used to read it every night before bed as we were establishing her bedtime routine and well into her second year. It has all the elements of the best bedtime baby books: wonderful pictures, text that sounds lovely in your ear when you read it aloud, and a quality of cozy goodness. My favorite things about this book are the seashell mobile, the row of 7 shoes that make you wonder where the eighth might be (hint: watch that black cat!), and the bond between the father and little one that doesn't need to be explicit in the text or illustrations, but just oozes out in the everyday-ness of bedtime like it should in real life.

Oh, I can't wait to tell you more. About board books versus "real paper books", Goodnight Moon and Post-Impressionism, Tennyson's poetry as baby literature, wandering the children's room of the library, and more, more, more, but I have to go now and read...

Working from home

2010-03-02T15:34:00.000-08:00

I find myself snuggling with a little sleeping baby and listening to my four year old try to read to herself during her rest time while I work today. On my task list - find a sheet to cover distracting playthings in a classroom during lessons. Such ugly options at my usual shopping haunts. So I found lovely bright old sheets for sale at the same cost with cheery ferns and butterflies and sherbet-like colors. All in all a lovely day at work. And a friend came over to cook me a lunch of dumplings, noodles, and pork buns. I am enjoying a taste of the new earth today, I think.

Bedtime story

2010-01-19T22:06:00.000-08:00

Today I felt a bit like Frances.

"Well," said Frances, "things are not very good
around here anymore. No clothes to wear.
No raisins for the oatmeal.
I think maybe I'll run away."

"What time will dinner be tonight?" said Frances.
"Half past six," said Mother.
"Then I will have plenty of time to run away
after dinner," said Frances,
and she kissed her mother good-bye
and went to school.

I'd like to run away.

"Where are you running away to?" said Father.
"I think that under the dining-room table is the best place,"
said Frances. "It's cozy,
and the kitchen is near if I run out of cookies."

But not very far. And to somewhere with cookies nearby.

From our bedtime story A Baby Sister for Frances by Russell Hoban, 1964, renewed 1992.

My sense of things, Vivi ed.

2010-01-16T08:48:00.000-08:00

I see my big sister; my face breaks into a smile.

I feel the fluffy tuft of hair on my stuffed monster; it comforts me.

I smell so good.

I taste my hands; they fill me with wonder.

I listen to Emerald Road, track 10; it soothes me when I'm fussy.

JUICE and the last five years

2010-01-06T15:40:00.000-08:00

or "In which I am exposed as completely ridiculous"

Today, a sad thing happened. They took JUICE away. I don't know if I will see her again. JUICE is our 2005 red Subaru Forester, so named because her license plate includes the letters JUC, and it made me think "juice" when I first saw it. No one knew I called her JUICE, but I did.

As a bit of background, I have a long history of intimate associations with inanimate objects. On my last day of first grade, I kissed my desk goodbye. It had been a good desk. As we moved out of my house at 3504 Greenwood Avenue when I was thirteen, I kissed each mint green wall of my bedroom goodbye. It had been a good room. When I was visiting home in my early twenties, my family had an idyllic day of togetherness at Laguna Beach during which my mom bought a piece of furniture to hold CDs. When she returned it because it did not fit into the spot she intended for it, I wept. It represented the foursome I had left.

So now that we have established that I am ridiculous, let me continue telling you about JUICE.

We bought her in August 2004 shortly after we moved to California. She was the fourth car I had owned and the second new one, and I had no idea she was so important to me until today. On New Year's Eve, on our tenth anniversary, we were driving her to Berkeley to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox and eat at Chez Panisse Cafe. A sleepy driver rear-ended and side-swiped JUICE. (We are all fine, and maybe one day I will tell you more about that, but this is about JUICE.)

Today, the tow truck came to take her away to the auto body shop. Some think she will be totalled. Maybe I will never see her again.

I emptied her of most of our belongings last night. Happy Meal toys, antibacterial wipes, Purell, bandaids, tissues, extra straws, maps, the audio versions of Winnie-the-Pooh and Frog and Toad Together, a CD of Bible songs, the new Avett Bros. album, some Christmas albums that should have already been tucked away for next year, stray pacifiers, the pencils and papers I carry around for work, Jay's sunglasses. I took out the last few things this afternoon when the auto body shop told me to expect the tow truck within the hour.

The driver took her out of our garage while my daughters were sleeping. He loaded her onto his rig in front of our house while I stood on the curb alone watching. She is wounded, but still lovely to me. I grew very sad. I remembered loading my first tiny new baby into her and driving my little one home. I remember only months ago driving in the earliest morning hours to the hospital to give birth to my second child. I remembered taking a three month old Audrey on our first daytrip sans Daddy just to see if I could. I remembered all the days we girls drove into the city to see art and have adventures. I remembered how when Audrey would not fall asleep when a baby I drove her up and down 85 until she slept. (I realize this is environmentally unsound, but she had GERD, and she screamed, and this worked, and if this happened to you, you would forgive me and totally understand.) I remember how I drove an hour to Santa Cruz and back once a week for a year to teach a fifty minute art class, use my M.A., and be self-actualized. I remember how one day driving over the Santa Cruz Mountains in JUICE I realized this was not serving God or my family and came to my senses and decided to be satisfied even if I was "unactualized." Errands, trips to see family in So. Cal., JUICE was an extension of our home.

She signified to me on this grey afternoon the last five years. Good years. In which my children were born, my grandparents died, I grew up a lot, my husband lost his job, I found community, and wore a miniskirt as a bridesmaid while pregnant. Years that look a lot like JUICE does now - banged up, but beautiful to me. Years in which God has changed me, humbled me, brought me low, showed me my inadequacy, and loved me anyway, and taught me to know this.

Five years ago we moved to California for my husband's job, bought a Forester, and started a family. Now that job is gone and maybe JUICE is too. That little family we started is moving on. To what new adventures, I am not sure. But today, I paused to remember a little threesome, a mommy and daddy and a little girl driving down the road laughing and singing off key to good music. I stopped to think about the first time they rode together with their new baby. I thought about a husband and wife who giddily escaped their parental responsibilities for good food and a quiet spot to read some decent books and snuggle in the city. I smile and get a little weepy.

Goodbye last five years. Goodbye JUICE. I should have kissed you goodbye. You were a good car.

It's been a long year

2009-12-30T15:50:00.000-08:00

New year resolutions never really come true. They are lists of day dreams that we might work on for a few days or weeks until the grey, cold, drudgery of January swallows them up into reality.

But something about the end of a year and the start of a new one makes me feel hopeful. That change can happen. That I won't fall into the same behaviors that make me too busy, too tired, too chubby, too worried, too late, too overwhelmed. However, after 33 new years, I realize that on my own, even with the most well applied efforts and charting systems, I will be all these things probably before the first week of January is over.

Here are my day dreams anyway. Because it has been a long year. And a girl can dream.

In 2010, I want to

cook simple, tasty meals for my family
wade through a couple thoughtful books on art history
linger in the stack of delicious unread novels on my bookshelf
grow something that my family can eat and share with our friends
pretend with Audrey
immerse myself in the gospel
snuggle with Vivienne
order my photos and make baby books
go to a concert with Jay
play with my friends
take day trips with my girls
adventure in NYC with Audrey
be intentional at my work
plan my days
rejoice always; pray continually

My sense of things, 3rd edition

2009-12-23T14:48:00.000-08:00

I see stacks of soft pink erasers and shiny, sharpened silver pencils with dark black wood being readied for the children at our Christmas eve service. I hope they will love the magical pencils as much as I do.

I hear the heavy breathing of two little girls in afternoon naps. I wonder what they are dreaming? Is Audrey thinking about the toy washing machine she wants or her last minute request for a doll named Carver? Is Vivienne seeing the twinkly lights we drove by last night and smiling?

I taste my favorite granola, made by a friend and her girls, creamy milk, and the last bites of our Cowgirl Creamery batch 14 cheese.

I smell the faint sprucey scent of our Christmas tree lit with golden lights and frosted with candy-colored ornaments.

I feel light and happy and tired and full.

Merry Christmas to all.

(Note: I made a four hour round trip to the Cowgirl Creamery in Point Reyes Station at the start of December with a friend and 5 little girls. It was my idea, and it was a little crazy. I was a giant undertaking that meant a couple very late nights because I lost a day, and some difficult moments with tired children, but fully worth it for the treasure bag of cheese I brought home and the treasure it always is to adventure with our friends. Batch 14 was a test batch of a new hard cheese they are trying out. It was amazing, and the fact that it is the only Batch 14 I will ever be able to have made it all the more wonderful.)

Lessons and carols

2009-12-15T14:59:00.000-08:00

Yesterday had me asking a question I really never thought that I would have to ask. "What is the proper etiquette for when your baby's diaper leaks all over your friend's couch?" And not just a little leak. One of those when everything comes out of the top of the diaper. So the fluffy cushion and I are both covered in poop. Covered. And I have to say to my friend, who has kindly invited us for lunch so Audrey and her daughter can play, "Uhm, Vivienne's diaper has leaked all over your couch." And she is so gracious. And this kind of makes me want to melt into the floor even more because I would have been freaking out if it were my couch, and in fact, I am sort of panicked about her couch. So I clean up myself and Vivienne. She cleans up the couch. We have lunch. I profusely apologize. I feel sick about it.

After the playdate, I feel that I must run my errands that I didn't get to before the playdate because of course I was late. Driving down the road, I look down at my hand, and I realize that there is poop on my hand. I forgot to wash my hand after I cleaned everything. I am gross. I am out of wipes. I feel sick about it.

We stop at Babies R Us. The parking lot is full because it is attached to a Toys R Us, and it is Christmas. I spot an empty place for expectant mothers. Well, they don't really need such a close spot, I justify to myself, really, it is the moms with little babies who are now screaming and must run their errands that deserve them. I am racing in with a screaming baby and a poopy hand, dragging Audrey along, when I hear someone calling me. It is my very kind, beautiful friend who is pregnant with her first child. She is shopping with her husband and mother-in-law for her baby's things. She introduces me to her mother-in-law, who puts out her hand to shake mine. I can't, I tell her, I am covered with baby poop. Vivienne is still crying. I don't like the image I am projecting. I feel sick about it.

We leave the store with the things we need. Our friends are leaving at the same time. The pregnant lady has to help me with my cart! She sees that I am parked in an expectant mother spot! I pull out of the parking lot. We are now rushing to McDonalds because Audrey needs milk so badly. I am kind of overwhelmed. I have to run these errands. My kids are kind of done. I am not ready for Christmas! I have so much to do. What should I do? These errands for work and home? Take these kids home? When will I do my errands if I go home? I put my head in my hands at the stoplight with a little sob. I look up into my rearview mirror to see the couple from Babies R Us and the mother-in-law in the car behind me. Did they see me breakdown? Okay, now they know I am incompetent. I feel sick about it.

O little town of Bethlehem
how still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars pass by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting life.
The hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight.

I am ready for Christmas after all. I am so ready it's ridiculous. I need that baby who was sent to rescue the world and even me. That sick feeling in my belly, the fear of what others think, the ways I fail must be met by that incarnational wonder that happened in Bethlehem so long ago. And a little bit of that deep and dreamless sleep, too, to be honest.

So it’s been a long year
Every new day brings one more tear
Till there’s nothing left to cry
My, my how time flies
Like little children hiding their eyes
We’ll make it disappear
Let’s start a brand new year

Darlin’ Christmas is coming
Salvation army bells are ringing
Darlin’ Christmas is coming
Do you believe in angels singing
Darlin’ the snow is falling
Falling like forgiveness from the sky

If I could have anything
What would I want this new year to bring
Well, I’d want you here with me
Tear these thorns from my heart
Help the healing to start
Let’s set this old world free
Let’s start with you and me

Well, it has been a long year. In the space of a month, my grandfather died, my second daughter was born, and my husband unfairly lost his position at work. We will have been married ten years on New Year's Eve. I see how God has changed us. I see so many thorns made visible by the past months. Set me free. Let me feel the forgiveness fall like snow gently settling on my body bundled in the truth.

Bring me a white horse for Christmas
We’ll ride him through the town
Out into the snowy woods
Where we will both lie down
Underneath white birches
Our faces toward the sky
We will make snow angels
With our white horse standing by

Hush now baby
One day we’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Our white horse through the sky

Bring me a white horse for Christmas
We’ll ride him through the snow
All the way to Bethlehem
2000 years ago
I wanna speak with the angel
Who said do not be afraid
I wanna kneel where the oxen knelt
Where the little child was laid

Hush now baby
One day you’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Your white horse through the sky

No bridle will he be wearing
His unshod hoofs they will fly
Keep a watch out this Christmas
For that white horse in the sky

Hush now baby
One day we’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Our white horse through the sky
Hush now baby
Let every angel sing
Hush now baby
One day we’ll ride again

I want to spend this Christmas whispering such a lullaby to my little baby. To be telling my little girl about the baby God who came to make it alright. To be singing myself to sleep with a song about the day I look and behold "a white horse! And its rider had a bow, and a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering, and to conquer." (Revelation 6:2) One day when "heaven opened, and behold a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True." (Revelation 19:11) God become man, who sees my life and the world in sin and error pining, appear and "in your majesty ride out victoriously for the cause of truth and meekness and righteousness." (Psalm 45:4)

Note: Second and third carols are taken from Over the Rhine, Snow Angel. All scripture references are ESV.

Are you there, readers? It's me, Laura.

2009-12-08T16:14:00.000-08:00

I never read that book, but I always wanted to. I remember thinking as a kid that somehow it was a naughty book? I have no idea what it is really about though so I withhold judgement. But the title always intrigued me so without knowing if it is really an appropriate reference, I will use it here to inquire as to whether anyone is out there reading this anymore.

The truth is that I don't really mind. I like to keep this little blog to chronicle the goings on in my little life. The trouble is that I want it to be lovely, and perfect, and beautiful. So while I post a lot in my head, I never, ever really consider posting here because I never take good enough photographs, or have the time for the exactly right words, or even spend time doing really interesting things.

I mean if I wrote about today, I would have to tell you about the unlit and undecorated Christmas tree that stands in the middle of my library which is full of interesting books I haven't the time for right now. I could tell you how good it smells when I pass by and how surreal it is to live with a real tree in your house and how guilty I feel about not having it decorated yet and how nervous I am to put the lights on because I never get them quite right. My dad used to put them on perfectly.

I would have to tell you how even though I wanted to read her a short book and put her away in her nap because I was tired and wanted to be alone, I guiltily indulged my daughter's request for her longest library book for her before nap story time. The seemingly innocuous Here Come the Cottontails began with a story-like description of a mother cottontail and her four baby bunnies. Only three of the babies meet a sad fate by predatory birds and nasty weasels. So, in the middle of her nap, my sweet four year old calls out for me and tells me in her half awake state that she wants the bunnies to come back to their safe house of fur and leaves. I have terrorized my daughter.

I would have to tell you about how all of us, myself and two daughters are sitting around in our pajamas at four thirty in the afternoon.

I would have to tell you that I am going to an event tonight for which I am to bring a dessert, and I have absolutely no intention of bringing one.

I would have to tell you that my house is out of order even despite my best hopes for maintaining it after the birth of my little daughter in September.

And really, dear reader, if you are reading, do you want to read about that? Don't you want to hear about my well-ordered life, my to -die-for desserts, my excellent reviews of children's literature (and by the way, I fully endorse Here Come the Cottontails maybe just for older children and not before sleep), and even in my bad times, lovely essays that make you feel good at the end?

But I am tired of that. This is my real imperfect life. Where I watch soap operas in addition to actually liking opera, eat McDonald's french fries as much as organic, local produce, and have to clear my cluttered table in order to eat dinner more often than not. My fake, invented life, well-edited to create a finely crafted identity is over. So, here I am in my jammies writing about my today.

In remembrance of tomatoes yet ungrown

2009-08-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

Our dreams for a vegetable container garden did not come true this year. Here is to some hope for next summer. This book comes out in February just when I begin to tire of winter squashes and long for fresh tomatoes.

A thought to tuck away

2009-08-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

August is my favorite month. The smell of newly sharpened pencils. The rich, dark colors of sunset and night sky showing up in shops and flower beds. The succulence of dripping, ripe fruits in the markets. The tingle of coming fall and the muggy, warmth of ending summer mixing on my skin. The last days of swimming and beach and freedom. The promise of new ideas and toasty sweaters and cozy soups just around the corner. These words in a children's book we found in our library sum up August completely:

"The hazy, lazy rich
ripe taste of August."

from Harry's Song, by Lillian Hoban, New York: Greenwillow Books, 1980

My August this year feels hasty and exhausting right now as we prepare for our new little girl to arrive. I am tucking these words away for the last days of August when I hope to at last feel "ripe and lazy." Or maybe next year. Or maybe this minute I will stop to taste an in-between ,warm, muggy moment of quiet before it washes into the bustle of activity and falling leaves. Ah, I love hazy and rich and ripe.

My sense of things, second ed.

2009-04-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

I taste black english breakfast tea.

I listen to my little girl offer her stuffed friends and dolls ice cream.

I feel like I wish my spirit was stronger.

I see vibrant green leaves against a grey, gloomy sky.

I smell the old, heavy, floral perfume my grandmother gave to me that we sprayed in the room just to see what it would be like.

The examined heart

2009-04-23T23:01:00.000-07:00

Audrey was invited to a birthday party for her little friend today. We had chosen a perfect gift for the birthday girl just a few days ago. But this morning, I found Audrey walking around the house with a shopping bag asking what else we can give to Mei Mei. She had filled it with her own hair barettes, ribbons, animal cards, finger puppets...some of her little treasures.

"What else would Mei Mei like, Mama?"

"We bought her something already, Audrey. That will be enough."

"No, Mama, Mei Mei is special. She needs a special present. She will love these things."

She continued to fill her little bag. She presented these trinkets to her friend with little fanfare and true joy.

This evening, I told her that she was so nice to give some of her special things to Mei Mei.

"You have a kind heart, Audrey."

"No, Mama, sometimes my heart is unkind. I need Jesus to help me."

Her humility penetrates my own selfish heart. Her knowledge of her sin, her deep need of Jesus, that only his Spirit in us brings real kindness. Do I know so well what is true?

My sense of things, first ed.

2009-01-08T20:59:00.000-08:00

I taste handmade raspberry chocolate fudge from Z. Cioccolato in North Beach.

I listen to bon iver, for emma forever ago.

I feel cold (which is sort of rare and enjoyable in Northern California) mellowed by a soft, hand-knitted blanket from our friend.

I see boxes of old things leaving my house, leaving blank places for new chapters of life to fill.

I am about to smell some muffins cooking in my oven.

Inspired by similar posts by Nicole at the Habit of Being.

The story of Christmas past

2008-12-28T19:38:00.000-08:00

"Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself." from a paraphrase of Luke 2 in The Message

Some of the things I treasure from my Christmas --

My little girl asking over and over again to be lifted to see the lovely German Christmas pyramid in a shoppe window we often pass to look at "her little Lord Jesus."

How she called the twinkle lights in the neighbors' yards "honeybugs".

The simple little Christmas eve service at my church decorated with discarded strands of Christmas lights and filled with the sounds of two friends making lovely music.

Making glistening lemon sandwich cookies with Audrey for our friends.

A mid-December feast filled with warmth and good conversation with people who have grown very dear to me.

Wrapping and cleaning late into the night, night after night, with my husband

Now she is three

2008-12-03T19:26:00.000-08:00

Three years ago at this time, I was settling into a pancake breakfast at the hospital, and this sweet little girl, just three hours old, was putting smiles on all the faces that saw her. Today she is a big girl who wanted me to hide her birthday presents and give her clues so that she could find them. And she still puts smiles on our faces. Happy birthday, Audrey.

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-24T01:12:00.000-08:00

So much to say thank you for: a constant and patient husband, a little daughter, a naughty but dear cat, a merciful God, truth-speaking friends, some very good books, some very beautiful pictures....

I made this roasted pumpkin fondue from the November 2008 issue of Gourmet for Halloween, but if I were preparing a Thanksgiving feast, I would start with this. And perhaps end there. Oh, well, there would be my mom's pumpkin pie, too. Because it is the very best dessert I have ever had.

Instead, I am going to feast with my family - my parents, my aunties and their families, and my Granddaddy. Being together with people who are so dear to me.

Happy Thanksgiving, to those of you who read along.

All other ground is sinking sand

2008-11-18T23:04:00.000-08:00

This evening I learned that something I particularly love is going away. A gift given to me a time of emptiness. I knew I treasured it, but I was suprised when my eyes welled with tears. Certainty is not promised us. Water and rest on a journey are to be enjoyed and then memories of them packed up as reminders of provision. We go on. Another place of plenty will be given again when we need it. We go on without the certainty in peace because we trust. Not in the provision, but in the provider. So, I travel on with a remembrance of sustanance to tuck away in my heart. Knowing I will have enough.

Conspiring for a new sort of Christmas

2008-11-13T23:08:00.000-08:00

I saw this today as I was thinking about how to shape our family's Christmas celebration.

A celebration that begins with worship.
A celebration that is relational.
A celebration that pours out life rather than stifles and snuffs out.
God sent Jesus that we might have life and have it abundantly.

In the coming weeks, I will share as we conspire to celebrate with worship, presence, and giving.

"It begins with worship..."

Who among the gods is like you, O LORD ? Who is like you— majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders? ... In your unfailing love you will lead the people you have redeemed. In your strength you will guide them to your holy dwelling. Exodus 15:11 and 13 (NIV)

Something simple and lovely to look at

2008-10-13T14:58:00.000-07:00

Two of my favorite artists, Camilla Engman and Elisabeth Dunker, have formed Studio Violet. This photo is from their website. I love the simplicity of their aesthetics and the magic of what they create together. You can see more of their work at http://www.studioviolet.se/. It is a nice spot to take a visual vacation during these chaotic times.

Autumn reading

2008-10-03T15:15:00.000-07:00

I never thought about the challenges of teaching seasons to a preschooler in the San Francisco Bay Area. Even though it is October, the air is still warm. Snow never falls. And in summer, you need a sweater to protect you from the chilly evenings. You have to use your imagination to conjure up the impressive colors of changing leaves or the frosty wonderlands of winter. Now, I am not complaining. I would not exchange the near perfection of my microclimate for real life teaching examples in my own neighborhood. It is okay that we will have to drive up to Tahoe to see snow and travel back East to show her the display of autumn color which I remember. In the meantime, though, we are reading about seasons. According to Audrey, it is fall time and the leaves are fallin'. And even though they are crunchy and brown, we jumped through them on our way to the library to get some books that show us how fall is supposed to look.

Lois Lenski, Now It's Fall
Tasha Tudor, Pumpkin Moonshine
Cynthia Rylant, In November
Margaret Wise Brown, The Little Scarecrow Boy
Judith Rawlinson, Fletcher and the Falling Leaves
Anne Rockwell, Apples and Pumpkins
Nancy Elizabeth Wallace, Apples, Apples, Apples

And on seasons, in general

Alice and Martin Provensen, The Year at Maple Hill Farm
Tasha Tudor, Around the Year
Brian Wildsmith, Animal Seasons
Tasha Tudor, Five Senses
Charlotte Zolotow, Over and Over

And a true sign fall is here in Northern California, it looks like rain. We are waiting anxiously for it.

Hope blows in

2008-10-01T14:35:00.000-07:00

In our family, we have a tradition of going to the beach on the third weekend of September. It started rather haphazardly when we scheduled with a photographer to have family photographs taken at the beach when our daughter was nine months old. It turned out to be such a happy day, that we repeated it last year. Everyone was very happy for this year's 'so long, summer' beach day. Suddenly, my husband had to work, and the day was cancelled.

But, you don't promise a beach day lightly to a little girl who is almost three and has a memory like an elephant. So in response to her crestfallen expression when I told her that we weren't going, I packed up our car for the beach anyway. She was 'so excited', but it felt hollow to me.

We sat on the beach surrounded by fog, steep clffs, and ice-cold ocean. We ate our lunch of cheese and apples. We even had chocolate. But, I felt so empty.

Then I remembered a day a long time ago. I was a child on vacation with my parents and brother. We passed through Monterey , California, getting out of our car at this chilly, dark, stony beach. We lived in a blue-collar suburb of Philadelphia. But, I decided that day that when I grew up, I was going find home near this foggy, grey, sea-breezed place. I was going to sip a hot drink, wrap myself in a warm sweater, and read good books there. The cozy melancholy drew me.

Sitting on the beach this late September, watching my little girl play, I realized for the first time: I am here. I can go any day to the grey, sea-breezed ocean cliffs. And just then, the fog started to blow off the water, and the sun warmed us.

I have been sad lately. There is suffering and brokenness about. And things are not right. And I struggle as I did on this day to find deep contentment.

Once in awhile, though, the fog blows off, and sun peeks in. Yes, the heavy grey will roll back in tomorrow, but it blows away enough each day for me to see that the hand of God is present.

The breezes of the ocean seem to be whispering the words of Job: "No plan of yours can be thwarted...Surely, I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know...My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have see you."

I don't think as a child, I knew what I was asking for. But, God has given me a gloomy, rocky place I do not pretend to understand, made beautiful by trust in things too wonderful for me to know. And, in the melacholy, my deepest longings are being satisfied through glimpses of almighty glory that warm me like the sun.

Her name was Lola

2008-09-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

And yes, she is a showgirl.

Audrey has an imaginary friend named Lola. She moved in during the first weeks of July. She just appeared one day, announcing to Audrey she needed some food at dinner time, and "some pink milk, please." She does bear a resemblance to the character of the same name from the BBC program Charlie and Lola.

She goes with us regularly to the store, prefering to ride in the cart, rather than walk, since, of course, "she is very small." She keeps Audrey up at night from time to time with her giggling. And, once we left her at the farmer's market. Fortunately, the vegetable man took care of her for us. Then, there was the scare when she got lost in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Mostly, though, she just plays. She joins Audrey for living room picnics and swims in the bath.

I rather like Lola, and I hope she stays with us for some time to come. She certainly relieves my anxieties about my choice to let Audrey watch a bit of television. Even if she does seem to cause a bit of trouble now and then, she makes for a good playmate.

Vacationing in my dreams

2008-08-20T22:36:00.001-07:00

We just returned from a lovely vacation to my in-law's farm in Illinois. It has been very hard to return home. I miss being in the middle of nowhere with only playing and reading and daydreaming filling my to do list. In my dreams, I am still there breathing in the fresh, sticky air filled with butterflies by day and fireflies at night.

A book project

2008-08-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

ASSEMBLY a collaborative book project from Maine artist Karen Gelardi has captured my imagination. Of course, I love her drawings and the fact that this installation will be comprised of books, but I am intrigued by her involvement of collectors as collaborators and curators and her goal of sustainable funding for installation art. You can purchase a book that will be part of the artwork, and it will be shipped to you following the installation. More information can be found at www.karengelardi.com. [Photograph is from the artist's website.]

A curse is lifted

2008-07-13T17:47:00.001-07:00

Today, I realized that I can read.

This warm Sunday afternoon, I found myself in bed with a particularly interesting text on the psychological meanings of picture books, and I thought excitedly to myself, "I am reading a book on the psychological meaning of picture books. How can this be?"

I learned to read sometime during the first grade. I hardly remember a time in my life that was not shaped by books. I even went to graduate school to study them. I was always reading something and surrounded by stacks of volumes just waiting for me. But one rainy December day, my books all fell shut and seemed to lock me out.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, a baby girl was born. Though she filled her home with joy and beauty, a powerful curse accompanied her. Grown-ups could not finish their books no matter how hard they tried. Countless hours were spent pouring over picture books with the tiny girl. She took her mommy on many happy literary adventures with bunnies and owls. Yet, as the mommy openned books written just for her, her eyes grew very heavy, and she fell fast asleep. As the little girl grew, her liveliness and laughter made her mommy so glad, but still, she could not open the books she longed to read.

Then, suddenly, the good fairies of imaginary friends and pretend play came to their little home and lifted the spell on the household. The little girl's mommy could read books meant just for her. They were glad, indeed.

Mei Mei hair

2008-07-10T00:09:00.001-07:00

Audrey's friend Mei Mei often wears her hair in ponytails. Her head is covered with lovely, thick, dark hair, and she has a sweet mother who is interested in styling it. I confess to my incompentence and lack of enthusiasm with regard to hair. (I am willing to invest in good cut, but not daily updos.) Audrey, however, has convinced me to try out Mei Mei hair on several occasions. Apparently, it is all the rage among the toddler set. It must be painful because she has to hold her bunny's hand to endure it. (Again, I am not good at hair.) It must be worth the suffering, though, because she is so pleased with the result. Yesterday, she insisted that I photograph her hairstyle so that she can show Mei Mei.

A steadfast heart

2008-07-08T16:50:00.000-07:00

"My heart is firmly fixed, O God, my heart is fixed;
I will sing and make melody."

from Psalm 57 in The Book of Common Prayer according to the use of The Episcopal Church

Goodbye, Happy Hollow

2008-07-08T16:28:00.000-07:00

One of our favorite little haunts, Happy Hollow, is closing today for renovations. Audrey and I will miss the happy times we had here. We are so excited to see what it becomes when it reopens next September.

Marvelous and strange

2008-07-03T14:56:00.000-07:00

Life has been a bit strange lately. And I am beginning to understand that it is always marvelous.

Quiet darkness

2007-11-05T17:35:00.000-08:00

It is only half past five, but it is like midnight outside. It is empty and still all around, and my daughter is lingering in her afternoon nap. I am startled today by early darkness. I did not properly notice its coming yesterday when we set the clocks back. Perhaps because I am alone, I have given it the chance to envelope me with a forgotten but familiar quietness. In this warm autumn, it is the first sign of coming winter. The hustle and blur of September and October seem to have floated to a soft landing in this gentle blackness.

This gentle blackness - a space for thinking and remembering and hoping and longing and being.

So, in this space I set out to begin to this little journal. A place for my thinking and remembering. A logbook of my hopes and longings. A record of my being.