any day a beautiful change

A Time to Tear Down and a Time to Build Up: A Post in Three Parts

2012-01-26T23:24:00.001-06:00

The July 2010 issue of O Magazine encouraged readers to "ignore memoirs by people who have barely cracked their 30s."

I read the article two weeks before I turned thirty, on the first day of a writing retreat. I was there to work on my memoir.

Katelyn Beaty recently introduced her review of Lauren Winner's new book with a nod to the issue of youthful memoirists. "Yes, our self-absorbed society is glutted with [memoirs]; yes, many 30-somethings lack the wisdom and experience to say much worth sharing. But the spiritual autobiography—a narrative account of God's gracious movement in the believer's life—is central to the church canon."

Time and reviews will tell if I have the wisdom and experience to say much worth sharing, but I'm grateful Ms. Beaty gives young writers the benefit of the doubt.

There is still a pendulum that swings inside of me sometimes.
You have nothing to say.
You have something to say.
You have nothing to say.

But then I remember: God moved graciously in my life.
I have something to say.
I have something to say.
I have something to say.

II.

Last October, Richard Ford told the Guardian, "For a writer, children make life needlessly hard."

In her lovely essay, Writing with Children, Jessica Francis Kane quoted Elizabeth McCracken's response to Ford's generalization. "We all write with everything we have, and for some of us that includes children, and for some it doesn't." Kane went on to speculate why people are so fascinated by the "conjunction of motherhood and writing." She wrote, "Perhaps it's because they're both considered all-consuming, and people are generally skeptical of someone being consumed by more than one thing."

All I could think (other than: thank you, Ms. Kane, for nailing it): yes, and add ministry to the fire, too.

III.

About ministry. What's with the unexpected reprise of the anti-female clergy song and dance? Lately I've been hearing far too many troubling stories. And far too much about the misogynistic theology of that bully preacher from the Pacific Northwest.

But I'm not too worried, and neither is Rachel Held Evans. "Most of the time, when I am discouraged about the state of Christianity, it’s because I have forgotten the end of the story.We are part of a living, growing Kingdom in which the last will be first and the first will be last, in which the peacemakers and the merciful and the meek will be blessed, in which the tiny seeds we plant today will grow into great trees where the birds of the air will nest, in which a crucified savior is King, and in which all things will be reconciled to God in love. Control is not the end of the story. Power is not the end of the story. Violence is not the end of the story. Inequality is not the end of the story. Jesus is. Those who preach the gospel of power will come and go; they will flourish and then fade."

Amen.

Someone's Been Using My iPad

2012-01-18T20:31:00.003-06:00

I certainly didn't upload this to our iPhoto library.

That gorilla kind of scares me. But apparently he made Juliette feel happy.

(Pretty sure this was some sort of image capture from the Electric Company App.)

Love Your Body

2012-01-17T22:26:00.003-06:00

I've been loving my friend Suzanne's creative project for 2012; she posts photographs of hand drawn/painted wisdom for each day.

image :: suzanne l. vinson

I am grateful every time one of her images comes up in my photo feed, delivering heartfelt, authentic wisdom.

The other night I was scrolling through pictures on Instagram, and one of her daily posts came up. Juliette was with me. She asked me what it said.

image :: suzanne l. vinson

Love your body, I told her.

I would love to believe that Juliette hasn't yet encountered any forces that tell her not to love her body, but I'm not that naive. That message is everywhere.

We talked about all the wonderful things we can do with our bodies: run, dance, hug, eat delicious food.

I thought the conversation was over, as Juliette was quiet. But then she patted me on the arm and said, "I love your body, Mama."

"I love your body, too, Juliette."

Love your body, and love the bodies of the people you love.

That's wisdom.

Umpteenth Post About Back Pain

2012-01-14T15:57:00.001-06:00

I am not having the day I was supposed to have today.

I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch and a tour of Two Brothers, a local brewery. It was one of the big ticket events on my Make January More Joyful tour.

And then, while I was making breakfast (cranberry scones and bacon), I had to sneeze.

I turned my head away from the food, sneezed my usual five-to-seven times, and turned back.

And my entire upper back was suddenly seized by severe pain, akin to the kind of pain you get when you get a foot cramp, only it doesn't go away after thirty seconds. I went from being fine to being not fine and hardly able to move.

I canceled the lunch plans and made an appointment for a deep tissue massage.

I burned the scones.

After a mediocre ninety-minute massage, I have a little bit more mobility. And I have a lot of self pity.

Have I really become the kind of person who can throw her back out by sneezing?

I have been dealing with bouts of back pain for about twenty years now. I was still in elementary school the first time I woke up with a head that wouldn't turn. When I was twenty-two a chiropractor took one look at my x-ray and told me I had the neck of a middle-aged man. I've sprained my back by carrying a speaker and lifting a canoe. I've suffered through postpartum back spasms that were infinitely worse than actual childbirth. I've seen physical therapists and pain specialists, gotten massages and and an MRI. I've swallowed painkillers so strong I couldn't hold them down, and learned to avail myself of demerol shots (though not when I'm nursing).

And it just seems like it's getting worse. This is the third time since Genevieve was born that I've had back pain acute enough to affect our whole family. The last time was just a couple weeks ago, when I sprained my lower back doing balance ball exercises that were supposed to strengthen my back so that it's more protected against pain and injury.

The fruitlessness of this pain is what gets to me the most. Maybe labor really was worse than the back pain ten days later, but there was an enormous difference: the labor pains were going to end with a baby.

I totally get why people need pain to mean something.

Barbara Brown Taylor, from An Altar in the World:

I hope that the antidote to unreality makes me more compassionate toward all the other folks enduring this peculiar experience of being human.

(At least once I can move enough to crawl out of my pit of self-pity.)

In this place of pain, further than any thinking, I give thanks for reality, and cool water, and the someones in my house.

Well, the someones who were in my house, until they left a bit ago at my encouragement to hang out with friends. Just before she walked out the door, Juliette (who is a terrifically sympathetic little girl) said, "I'm glad of you, Mama. That means I love you."

And with that, back to the couch.

Take Twelve 2012: January

2012-01-12T20:55:00.001-06:00

view from my study

still life with beard

home for lunch

genevieve, juliette, and the twins

juliette

genevieve

ben's lunch

winter wreath

woman's society chapter meeting

maiden voyage of the snow wolf

view from my study, nighttime

kemper library before bible study

The Greatest Willis Sister Crazy Consumer Gene Story Ever (So Far)

2012-01-11T20:45:00.001-06:00

The Willis sisters, as we all know, have a Crazy Consumer Gene. (Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C, Exhibit D, Exhibit I Can't Link to Facebook but Marie Will Never Shop at K-Mart Again on Account of a Cancelled Fairy Doll Order.)

Today, the Crazy Consumer Gene saga reached a whole new level. It's as though the universe folded in on itself. It's the equivalent of, like, time traveling and encountering your own mother.

Okay, here goes.

Last night, I ordered my Take Twelve Guided Inspiration Kit. I used PayPal because I was too lazy to stand up and walk across the room to fetch my credit card. After I paid I noticed that the transaction was still pending and that my files weren't available to download yet.

This afternoon, I tried to download again, but I was still getting the "pending" message. So, I used the Ella Publishing "contact us" form to dash off a quick plea for assistance. Only when I tried to submit it, I got a message saying I'd input the CAPTCHA (anti-spam verification) letters wrong. So I tried again. And again.

I got a new mail ping - an automatic response confirming that my email had been received and that Ella Publishing would follow up promptly.

And then I got four more pings. Oops. Guess it was going through each time after all.

Not ten minutes later, the phone rings. It's Elizabeth.

At first I think something is seriously wrong. It sounds like she's crying.

Nope. Laughing.

As it turns out, Elizabeth has a new job helping out with tech support at, you guessed it, Ella Publishing. She was on the phone with Angie, i.e, THE FOUNDER, PRESIDENT, AND CEO OF ELLA PUBLISHING, when all of a sudden Angie started cutting out. Elizabeth's phone was vibrating wildly on account of the five requests for tech support from, you guessed it, me.

Elizabeth, kind of dumbfounded, explains this to Angie. And Angie, knowing us, replies, "Willis sister Crazy Consumer Gene?"

This evening I received this fine example of excellent customer service from the Ella Publishing Tech Support Trainee:

(And lest you think it was Ella [or Elizabeth's] fault I couldn't download my files at first, it was not. I apparently have my PayPal account set up some weird way that requires 3-5 days to clear.)

The end.

p.s. The kit is lovely. I'm super excited to start taking pictures tomorrow!

Take Twelve

2012-01-10T20:43:00.000-06:00

I'm going to try really, really hard to participate in the Take Twelve 2012 project. Elizabeth was instrumental in putting together the inspiration kit, which is on sale for 12% off at Ella Publishing until January 12th. The whole idea is that you take twelve photos on the twelfth of each month. I'm jazzed about the reminder emails, because I can totally see myself getting really irked at myself on the thirteenth of each month without the benefit of a heads up.

Elizabeth shared a great list of reasons to participate.

One Word 365

2012-01-06T21:26:00.001-06:00

For several years, Marie has chosen one word to be her word of the year. I love the idea. I love words. Why have I not done this before?

My word came to me so quickly, so decisively. I have been thinking about it for days but have hesitated to share it. It seems, um, a little bit hokey.

Here goes: INSPIRE.

Inspire.

I long to be inspired: by God, by my family and friends, by my church, by the things I read and see and eat and learn.

And I hope, in turn, to inspire.

On a recent Sunday, after I had preached during worship, a man pulled me aside to thank me for the sermon. In the course of the conversation, he told me that I inspire him. It was a lovely thing to hear, but also a humbling thing to hear. I am more aware than ever that my sermons are not my own. Not in the plagiarism way - I don't go there, believe me - in the inspiration way. I can only inspire if I have been inspired. And I do believe that the ground of inspiration is the Holy Spirit.

Ultimately, this word is about openness. It's about a willingness to be patient, to wait for the right moment, to have courage, to trust.

Inspire 2012.

Epiphany Sunset

2012-01-06T20:52:00.001-06:00

On the way home from church this afternoon I saw one of most breathtaking sunsets I've ever seen. It was so lovely I decided to go home by another way so that I could take some pictures at Spring Rock Park. It looked like a fire on the horizon.

What an extraordinary world.

Wednesday Miscellany

2012-01-04T22:15:00.002-06:00

1. Ben is into this new app he has on his iPod that streams radio stations from all over the world. In the last five minutes I have heard snippets of blues, polka, and birdsong. Did you know there's a radio station that plays nothing but birdsong?

2. January is not my favorite month, and this January seems to be particularly less than stellar.

3. Except for Juliette's fourth birthday. That will definitely be stellar. We are thinking we'll invite a couple girls over for another tea party, and play dress up. We like super simple, very small birthday parties around here.

4. We moved our furniture around last weekend, and in the process discovered that neither of us like our leather Ikea chairs at all. They are several years old and look brand new because we never sit in them. They aren't very comfortable, and they look out of place in our 1920s home. But, after having poked around in a few furniture stores, we resigned ourselves to keeping them around for the foreseeable future. Good chairs are expensive. And it is nearly impossible to find something that is as aesthetically pleasing as it is comfortable. There is a part of me that really wants a big poufy recliner - holy cow are those things comfortable - but there is another part of me that rages against the frump.

5. I have fully descended into the Pinterest vortex. My favorite boards to curate are Manual of Style (Chicago-related things) and Sacramental Life. And my food board.

6. How can it have been nearly a year since I finished writing my manuscript? For the next few days I will be scouring the copyedited version - the penultimate step before printing. Gulp.

7. I'm pretty sure I know what my second book is going to be. I've been writing the proposal in my head, which is kind of exciting, but also a little inconvenient. The same thing happened when I was up to my ears in the Christmas pageant - suddenly I was inundated with ideas for next year's service.

8. I am not only going to buy the Take Twelve Guided Inspiration kit that Elizabeth coordinated, I'm going to do it. The gist is that you take twelve photos on the twelfth of each month, and this gives you ideas for photos and what to do with them. I'm a little freaked out by how close to becoming a scrapbooker I am. Who would have thought!

9. I have an early date with an elliptical and a friend, so nighty night.

Fantastic Sweet Potato Sausage Soup

2012-01-03T19:53:00.001-06:00

I had pork sausage and leftover sweet potato puree in my freezer, and learned from good old Google that sweet potato + sausage soup is a standard. I didn't exactly follow any recipe, as most of the ones I came across online called for seasoned sausage (chorizo or Portuguese linquica), and mine was plain. I did not measure everything, but seasoned to taste. This was probably the best soup I've ever made.

Okay, this is what you need, more or less:

2-4 cups sweet potato puree
.5 pound sausage
1-2 boxes chicken stock
1 chopped onion
1-3 cloves minced garlic
frozen veggies (I used half a bag of mixed carrots, beans, peas, and corn as well as a half bag of corn; you could also saute fresh veggies)
beans (I used white kidney)
2-4 tablespoons of minced fresh parsley
paprika
garlic powder
hot pepper flakes and/or cayenne

And this is what you do, more or less:

Combine sweet potato puree and stock in large stock pot. The ratio of puree to stock will determine how thick or thin your soup will be - combine accordingly. I thought mine was a little too thick at first, so opened the second box of stock and kept adding more until it seemed right.

Heat the puree/stock on medium.

Meanwhile, saute sausage, onion, and garlic in a skillet.

Add browned sausage, onion, garlic, beans (rinsed and drained if canned), and frozen veggies to stock pot; bring to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer.

Add parsley and seasonings until it tastes good... which is to say, add seasonings until it no longer tastes like baby food with sausage in it! I think I used roughly a teaspoon of paprika, a half teaspoon of garlic powder, and several shakes of hot pepper flakes. I think cayenne, used sparingly or not, depending on preferences, would work better than hot pepper flakes.

Serve piping hot, with fresh warm bread. Hearty and healthy and very, very tasty.

Book Review: The Sometimes Daughter

2012-01-02T20:53:00.001-06:00

The Sometimes Daughter by Sherri Wood Emmons
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I was lucky to receive an advance copy of Sherri Wood Emmons' second novel from the author; we are acquaintances, as I wrote a couple articles for her when she edited the sadly defunct Disciples World.

I probably read this far too quickly for review purposes, but I couldn't put it down. I've had little patience for novels that aren't engrossing lately - no problem here. The book's central story is about the relationship between Judy (given name: Sweet Judy Blue Eyes) and her mother, Cassie, a deeply flawed character. But, like many of my favorite novels, the story is told parallel to recent history, with the fictional family's narrative woven into major cultural and current events.

The novel unfolds over many years, from Judy's earliest memories of her mother to her high school tribulations. At first I struggled with the narrator's voice; it felt simple to the point of simplistic, and I wanted elements of the story to be unpacked with more sophistication. That initial struggle dissolved when I realized that Judy's narrative perspective matures with her. Childhood memories that were observed and left unresolved were explored by an older Judy as she sorted through the chaos caused by her mother's instability. I ultimately liked the ever-changing narrative voice; it seemed like an organic way to tell a coming-of-age story such as this.

The book is worth reading if only for the extended character sketch of Judy's mother. At first glance it seems like she might just be a stereotypically irresponsible flower child of the 60s, but Emmons instead provides a complicated woman who means well yet fails her daughter (and herself, and seemingly anyone close to her) repeatedly.

I wouldn't exactly call it my "favorite" part, but the part of the story that deals with Cassie's involvement with Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple was utterly fascinating. Emmons worked on the issue of Disciples World Magazine that covered the Jonestown tragedy in depth (as did I - Emmons edited my cover article for the issue). Her knowledge about the historical events is matched only by her compassion for the people involved with it. I thought she handled what could have been a sensationalized storyline extremely well. In fact, part of me wanted the book to stay there, and just be about the aftermath of the horrific event from the perspective of a family affected by it. But Emmons' approach - to let the events be a significant and traumatizing but not defining moment in the narrator's life - was effective.

Another particularly well-done element of the novel, in addition to its strong sense of history, was its wonderful sense of place. I don't know Indianapolis all that well, but appreciated how grounded the narrative was in its landscape and customs.

Overall: good story, great characters (Judy's father is every bit as well-drawn as Cassie), compelling narration, complex relationships.

View all my reviews

Resolutions or Repentance

2012-01-01T14:11:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Lee told a story I haven’t quite stopped giggling about. She was up in the wee small hours of the morning with her baby. She fed him, changed him, swaddled him, and placed him back in his crib – all the while feeling as though something was a little bit off. As though she was a little bit off. Everything seemed kind of fuzzy, but that’s to be expected when you’re completely exhausted by the demands of a newborn. Only when Lee caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror did she figure out what the problem was.

"[She]was wearing her sunglasses. In [her] pajamas. In the middle of the night. While feeding and diapering [her] baby."

Like I said, I haven’t quite stopped giggling ever since I first imagined the sight in my mind’s eye.

I love this story, and not only because I find it incredibly funny. I love it because it’s a decent metaphor for the practical and spiritual work we tend to do around the turning of the year. Now is the time to take a good look at ourselves in the symbolic mirror, to take stock of who we are and what we’re doing. And, if we find something amiss, now is the time to change, to free ourselves from whatever is preventing us from being fully alive.

Lee’s tale of midnight sunglasses reminds me of the story of Paul’s conversion.* Before he became Paul, the apostle and author of much of the New Testament, Paul was called Saul, and he was a terrible man. He loved nothing more than persecuting the early Christians. Yet one day, on the road to Damascus, Saul was blinded by a light from God. His blindness lasted for three days, during which he prayed in despair and confusion and total darkness. Finally, God sent a man named Ananias to Saul’s bedside. “Brother Saul,” he explained. “The Lord sent me—Jesus, who appeared to you on the way as you were coming here. He sent me so that you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And with that, the scales fell from Saul’s eyes and he could see the truth: not only about himself, but about the God whom he had rejected. Saul was immediately baptized into the very faith and fellowship he had gleefully oppressed.

Yes, New Years Day is a wonderful time to reflect, a great day to remove the shades, see clearly, and act accordingly. And what better way to act accordingly than to make New Years resolutions?
Maybe you love them, maybe you hate them. Maybe you make them, maybe you don’t. Maybe you finally quit smoking on account of a successful New Years Resolution. Maybe you’ve learned the hard way that you’re not the kind of person who can drastically change course just because you tacked a new calendar to the wall. Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of New Years Resolutions – which is pretty astonishing if you consider the seriousness with which I undertook them when I was a kid.

A couple years ago, while poking around in my parents’ basement, I found an old journal that contains my New Years Resolutions for 1992. I can date the chart quite precisely to that year, since I mentioned the boy I had a crush on at the time. I resolved to stop thinking about him all the time. I also resolved to stop biting my nails, pray more, learn how to do my hair so it looked good, get out of my sisters’ shadows, and find out why boys were such jerks. Note that this is a far from comprehensive list; the list contains twenty different resolutions. It also contains a chart for monitoring my progress; I drew the chart by hand with a ruler, and made check marks each month if I determined that I had improved in that area. You’ll be happy to know I did in fact figure out why boys were such jerks in March of that year, though I regret that I didn’t write down my answer. I’m still not sure that I’ve figured out how to do my hair so it looks good.

I had a good laugh when I found this chart. There’s a bar in New York City that hosts Cringe Nights, where people stand up and read old diary entries to great hilarity. This thing would be an excellent contribution to the fun - I didn’t even go into the complicated longhand mathematics I did in the margins to determine what percentage of my resolutions I had kept each month. But, I also felt a great pang of empathy for the earnest and self-conscious girl I used to be. I want to go back and tell her to calm down, that she doesn’t need this ill-fated plan for self-improvement. I want to go back and tell her she’s good enough.

And maybe that’s why I don’t care for most talk about New Years Resolutions. They have a tendency to prey on our insecurities. They promise change without giving us any tools beyond the strength of our own willpower, which, if you’re anything like me, isn’t always very strong. They set us up to fail – how many people don’t even remember what their resolutions were last year? New Years Resolutions are often like trying to change while we’re still wearing sunglasses at midnight. They don’t show us the truth about who we are, or the truth about the God who made us.
I’m beginning to think that we’re better off skipping the resolutions and trying out something a bit more biblical: repentance.

Repentance is one of those big, heavy theological words that are often cut out of the contemporary Christian vocabulary. But our faith is impoverished without it. We don’t need self-improvement goals destined to trick us into believing we will never be good enough. We need forgiveness from a God who loves us so much he was born in a stable in Bethlehem to save us. When the scales fell from Paul’s eyes and he saw the truth, he didn’t see that he needed to lose five pounds. He saw that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. He saw that he was deeply wrong about the world. He saw that he had terribly mistreated God’s children. And in that moment, he was transformed. He became a new creation: dead to the sin that had previously defined him, alive in Christ.

Paul would later write letters to the church he founded in Corinth. He would write hard words, words of judgment. If we want to keep that sunglasses metaphor going, his letter was like a mirror, reflecting truth back to them. Occasionally his harsh words injured the recipients of his letters. Who likes to be judged, even righteously? Yet in the epistle we read today, Paul writes, “Even though my letter hurt you, I don’t regret it. Well—I did regret it just a bit because I see that that letter made you sad, though only for a short time. Now I’m glad—not because you were sad but because you were made sad enough to change your hearts and lives. You felt godly sadness so that no one was harmed by us in any way. Godly sadness produces a changed heart and life that leads to salvation and leaves no regrets, but sorrow under the influence of the world produces death. Look at what this very experience of godly sadness has produced in you: such enthusiasm, what a desire to clear yourselves of blame, such indignation, what fear, what purpose, such concern, what justice!”

I don’t mean to diminish the importance of losing those five pounds. God knows, our good health matters a great deal. But I do think that Christians should not let ourselves be defined by that extra weight, or that messy desk, or that rising debt, or even that one who broke our heart. We must let God define who we are. If we give into what Paul calls “sorrow under the influence of the world” – well, it’s true: we will never be handsome or rich or successful or well-liked enough to make ourselves truly happy.

We must believe the gospel when it proclaims God loves us so much that he sent his son to save us. If we aren’t living each moment of our lives as a response to that amazing grace, then maybe we are blind. Maybe we need to feel that pang of godly sadness, awakening us to the truth. Let the scales fall from our eyes. Let us repent of our sins, those things we have left undone that we should have done, and those things that we have done that we didn’t have any business doing. Let us rejoice in the gift of forgiveness, watching the divine alchemy that wrests godly joy from godly sadness. And then let’s get on with it already, boldly continuing our journey in the brilliant light of Christ.

*This is in no way to imply that poor exhausted Lee is equivalent to pre-conversion Saul. Don't look too hard at the metaphor or it will dissolve. ;-)

Reading Challenge 2011/ Reading Challenge 2012

2011-12-31T20:23:00.001-06:00

My GoodReads Reading Challenge for 2011 was to read 50 books.

I really wanted to reach that goal, but a combination of factors thwarted me. The biggest one was definitely my iPad, between reading the NY Times and blogs and, of course, general time wasting. I also started several books this year that just didn't do it for me. I slogged through a couple, and stopped reading others altogether. A few more I reread in part (Consider the Lobster, for instance.) And then there was that one Michael Chabon book Ben didn't know I was done with and lent to a friend. (Hmph!)

Oh, and I wrote a book, too. That probably had some bearing. I did count reading the manuscript as one of my books, which might be cheating, but I read the dang thing about 23 times, so I say it counts.

Unless I finish the last couple chapters of The Pastor as Minor Poet tonight, my grand total will be 45 books. Not bad.

My reading goal for 2012 is at once way more and way less ambitious. I intend to read (at least) one book, but a particular one: Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.

Happy New Year!

A Year in First Lines

2011-12-30T11:40:00.000-06:00

Time for the annual year-in-review: first sentence of the first post of each month.

January: Jackson Henry Taylor was born yesterday morning!

February: I submitted my manuscript to Chalice Press on January 30th... two whole days before deadline.

March: When I see this picture, taken just a few moments before Ben and I walked down the aisle, hand in hand, to be married, several thoughts immediately come to mind.

April: Later this month, we close on the purchase of our first home, thanks to financing assistance from the church.

May: I've had writing friends for nearly as long as I've been writing.

June: I experienced two strong symptoms when the temperature passed the 90 degree mark: the misplacement of my ankle bones, and a fierce desire to chop my hair off.

July: Juliette has said some funny things lately that I don't want to forget.

August: At first I was afraid to say it out loud, thinking it would immediately jinx the situation.

September: My last blog post began with the observation that I was one-third of the way through my maternity leave.

October: I'm back to work.

November: A terrible thing happened nearby last week.

December: Not just any coat.

What a year. What a year.

Remember December

2011-12-29T22:56:00.001-06:00

The pageant and the baptisms definitely loomed large in our Christmas celebrations, but there were quite a few memorable moments during the last month. Here are a few caught on Instagram, in no particular order.

1. Maddie wrote a wonderful poem to go with a shot of Juliette playing hopscotch taken by my father-in-law that I ran through instagram, and Elizabeth framed it beautifully.

2. With Grandpa in town, Juliette got to hear the original Willis family version of T'was the Night Before Christmas.

3. Juliette was not shy about meeting Santa in the parlor during preschool.

4. One of my all-time favorite ornaments. Oh, how I want to make some new felt ornaments!

5. This was the third year our tree has been topped by a hand drawn star - made by Juliette at her Montessori school in California.

6. It's hard to see here, but Juliette was holding an imaginary hamster for most of her preschool singalong. The teacher finally asked her to put it down, and she did, but spent the rest of the concert giving the girl behind her threatening looks - like, "Don't you DARE step on my hamster." We were in hysterics.

7. A completely spontaneous show of affection between darling little ballerinas.

8. Christmas glowsticks were a big hit.

9. Juliette gave Genevieve a sock monkey for Christmas.

10. Juliette loves the little birdie in a cage from her Aunt Marie.

A Perfectly Imperfect Christmas Pageant

2011-12-28T22:50:00.000-06:00

In October I shared the Christmas pageant I wrote last spring. Given that it was fairly rough, and that it had several contextual jokes, I licensed it through Creative Commons with a liberal permissions policy - free to use/adapt with original credit. It has been so much fun to hear about other churches who produced the pageant. I know of two in California, one in Wyoming, one in North Carolina, and another somewhere in the Midwest. And that's just the people who contacted me to tell me they were using it. I certainly think there's a place for paid content, and I wouldn't want to undermine the writers who are trying to eek out a living selling scripts and rights. But, I also think there's a place for resource sharing, for open source generosity.

At one point during one of our two pageant services on Christmas Eve, I thought about how much larger the cast actually was - that there wasn't just one sheep in our flock, but several more scattered throughout other churches. Just as our Mary "forgot" the baby, so did the handful of other Marys who rehearsed the part. What a daunting thought for a first time play writer/director.

I was extremely nervous before the first service. Our family services are very, very full. Again with the daunting thoughts: how many folks produce their first script before upwards of 500 people? But our version of the pageant was just right. The girls who played the leads did great. The kids remembered all their cues. The animals who were supposed to pop up and sing off-key were delightfully terrible. The dads were once again brilliant sports about dressing up in full kingly regalia. The band lead the carols without missing a beat. And the congregation was wonderfully responsive, laughing and singing and, I hope, worshiping the Christ child.

I admit, when I first learned that the pageant would be on my docket at my new church, I was a teensy bit unenthusiastic. Now? I have enough ideas to last us to the Second Advent.

Dear Genevieve,

2011-12-27T22:16:00.000-06:00

On Christmas Eve, in between hours of cooking and the big pageant, I took a break from my work to give you and your sister baths. We have our system down pat: you wait patiently in your chair while I start with Juliette, and then we set your baby tub on the bathtub so she can keep you company while I bathe you. I didn't used to like giving baths, and I still sometimes complain about the ache that settles in my lower back when I do. But I treasure washing you up. You gaze at me while I scrub and sing and try to make you smile. You are such a gazer, your big brown eyes all calm and bemused.

During your Christmas Eve bath, as I squeezed the warm water over your belly, I thought about how I was going to baptize you the next morning. I thought about how natural it seems for the same one who birthed you and nurses you and listens for your breath and immerses you in soapy water would be the same one to touch your forehead and speak words of blessing.

But then, everything about you seems natural. I told your father the other day that my love for you is uncomplicated, while my love for your sister was complicated when she was a baby. Don't you (or Juliette) ever think one was better or worse than the other; your Mama's love is fierce and good with or without complications. The fact of the matter is this: you were born into a family with a redemption story, and you showed up after the hard part. We will try our best to let you become who you are to become, but for now we can't help but think of you as our sweet and fairly unexpected gift. You delight us, and we all love taking turns delighting you.

On Christmas morning, we dressed you in a silver brocade dress that was just enough alike - and just enough different - from your sister's gold brocade dress. You won't remember anything about your first Christmas, but you will have a few snapshots, and stories from your sister, and a keepsake dress. And you will have a whole community of faith reminding you of your baptism, and teaching you what it means.

Genevieve Laverne, I baptized you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I called you what you are: a child of God, disciple of Christ, and member of the church. I kissed your cheek and set you back in the arms of your father, filled with wonder and humility and grace upon grace.

Your life is now the subject of a sacred covenant, one you will have an opportunity to confirm when you are older. I can tell you from personal experience that it is always a gift and sometimes a challenge to live in sacred covenant, and that I wouldn't want it any other way.

Genevieve Laverne, my daughter, my sister in Christ.

Love,
Mama

Dear Juliette,

2011-12-26T23:39:00.001-06:00

On the day of your baptism, you woke up knowing that it was Christmas morning, and that Santa might have been by and maybe might have even brought you those roller skates you so consistently requested whenever asked. And yet, you didn't leap out of bed and down the stairs. You snuggled with Genevieve for so long we had to encourage you to get a move on. You opened your skates, pure delight, and delighted just as much in watching the rest of us open our little gifts.

And then it was time to slip into your beautiful gold brocade dress, and leave behind all the rest of those enticing presents for later. Lucky for all of us, it isn't hard to convince you to go to church. It continues to be your favorite place: safe and fun and filled with people you know and love.

We decided to invite two people you really know and love to be your baptismal sponsors. You adore them and their children so much. As soon as the L. family arrived at church, you dashed out of your pew and into theirs, and spent most of the service drawing on attendance papers and bulletins with your dearest neighbor/church friends. I think we all had a moment where we thought: oh, shouldn't she sit with her family? But we all concurred that you were just right where you belonged. Quite the confirmation that we selected an appropriate family to sponsor you and your sister.

When it was time to come forward for the sacrament, I held my breath a bit, worried you might have one of your rare but strong moments of bashfulness. But you were fine. At one point, while Rev. Stiffler was talking about Jesus welconing the little children, you peeked your head around the baptistry and waved to your friends in the front pew.

After promises were made and prayers lifted, I lifted you onto my hip and dipped my hand in the font. I glanced at your face before I touched the water to your forehead. Your brow was furrowed. I think you were concerned about how wet you were going to get, and accordingly, I shook off the excess water into the font before I proceeded.

But it dawns on me now: you looked just like I did in the picture taken during my ordination, when my community was laying its hands on me and calling upon the power of the Holy Spirit. My brow was furrowed, too. I remember thinking I didn't really know what I was getting into, or whether I would experience what I was supposed to experience, or if I was really worthy of the honor bestowed on me that day. I was, in my own way, concerned about how wet I was going to get.

Juliette Louise, I baptized you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I called you what you are: a child of God, disciple of Christ, and member of the church. I kissed your cheek and set you down again, filled with wonder and humility and grace upon grace.

Your life is now the subject of a sacred covenant, one you will have an opportunity to confirm when you are older. I can tell you from personal experience that it is always a gift and sometimes a challenge to live in sacred covenant, and that I wouldn't want it any other way.

Juliette Louise, my daughter, my sister in Christ.

Love,
Mama

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T21:08:00.001-06:00

I think I'm going to try a 12 days of Christmas blog spree, mainly because there's been so much going on lately that I haven't taken time to blog much, and I feel like too many memories are slipping away into the ether. This Christmas was full of joy and generosity and sacraments and pretty dresses and roller skates and creativity. I cooked my first full turkey dinner in the same 24 hour period in which I directed my first original Christmas pageant (twice!) and baptized our girls, though somehow I mananged to convince myself that I was not approaching the holidays overly ambitiously. Ha!I want to write about all of it. But this Christmas was so full that I am about as exhausted as I've ever been. So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. More soon.

Christmas Day Baptisms

2011-12-21T22:41:00.001-06:00

On Christmas Day, our girls will be baptized.

I contributed a post to the Christian Century blog last month about our discernment process - To Bless or to Baptize. As I explained in the reflection, I'm ordained in a tradition that baptizes adults, yet am serving what is intended to be a long term associate pastorate in a tradition that baptizes babies. I wrote about our lean toward imminent baptisms, "Neither aesthetics nor theology sway the decision.Both ways are beautiful, and both ways - to borrow a quip of WilliamWillimon's - "work." What it comes down to is the matter of community."

A few comments on the post gave me pause. One critiqued my "confusion" about baptism, from someone who seemed like they might have fairly particular opinions about the proper and improper ways to go about it. A couple others seemed stunned that anyone cares about this stuff anymore; one went so far as to say "rites don't matter."

After giving this all a bit of thought and prayer, I realize that I partially concur with the person who found me confused. I am confused about baptism. But I'm embracing my confusion. According to the etymology dictionary, "Latin confusus was the pp. of confundere "to pour together, mix, mingle; to join together;" hence, figuratively, "to throw into disorder; to trouble, disturb, upset."

(Wade in the water... God's gonna trouble the water.)

I think baptism is one of the most confusing elements of the Christian faith.

But wait: even as I typed that, I thought: well, it certainly isn't any more confusing than the Eucharist. (This is my body, broken for you, take and eat?!) Communion mixes up biblical narrative and sacrificial offerings and family meals and hospitality and grace and the vision of a Messianic banquet and King's Hawaiian brand bread (at least in California).

And baptism, well, baptism certainly troubles the water. It dramatizes the radical notion that we participate in the death and resurrection of Christ. The drama is considerably more vivid with adult baptism by immersion; you literally go under. The sprinkling seems like a much friendlier welcome, but have no doubt: the child baptized is welcomed into a community that confesses the path to everlasting life is inextricably linked to the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Really, both the central sacraments are deeply, classically confusing. They pour together things seen and unseen. They mix flesh and Spirit. They mingle things ordinary (in this case, beautiful matching brocade dresses) and profound. They join together life and death in a manner that radically rejects the possibility that you live, you die, and that's it.

They are as simple as bread and juice and water, and they are means of grace.

Last spring, Erica wrote of her son's baptism, "I believe that his baptism today is the single most important event in Abram’s life. Not his life so far, but his whole life."

Rites - sacraments - matter. I realize now that I have absolutely no idea what it means to say that baptism "works," only that I believe this story, and want to live it, and want to usher our children into this extravagant covenant of love established between God and his children. Before God and the congregation, together with Ben and the children's sponsors - a dear family who are exemplars of faith and hospitality - I want to vow to raise these children in the way of Christ.

I'm going to baptize them myself. (We probably don't even need to fill the font that day, as I will surely generate enough tears to do the trick.)

The funny thing about baptizing an almost-four-year-old is that she is neither a baby nor a young adult. She might actually remember this, and certainly needs some explanation, though we don't expect her to understand it.

(I love that we do not expect her to understand it. I wish we didn't expect people to understand mysteries more often.)

Tonight, during our Advent wreath devotions, we read a book to her, Water, Come Down! by Walter Wangerin. It's a lovely book. She perked up at the picture of the baptism itself; she was concerned that it looked like the minister was pouring quite a bit of water on the child's brow. Juliette does not like to get wet - another irony for the daughter of this immerser! I have promised her I will be more sparing.

But what will never be sparing is our love for Juliette and Genevieve, and God's love for Juliette and Genevieve.

Signed and sealed in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Two Beautiful Girls

2011-12-19T20:02:00.002-06:00

Genevieve Laverne at five months

Juliette Louise at nearly four

World Vision

2011-12-08T14:42:00.001-06:00

Last night I finally did something I've been meaning to do for a long time.

I signed our family up to sponsor a little girl in Haiti through World Vision.

I chose Haiti because Heather Hendrick's blog about her family's missionary work in Haiti has affected me just about as deeply as anything I've ever read. I have a shelf on GoodReads for "life-changing books," and if her blog was a book, it would be on that shelf.

I chose Sendline because she shares the same birthday as Juliette. We're planning to "introduce" Juliette to Sendline on her birthday in January. They can be pen pals.

The reason I did this last night was fairly self-interested. Sandra McCracken, one of my all-time favorite singer-songwriters, offered via Facebook to send handwritten lyrics to "Justice Will Roll Down" to the first ten people to sign up for a new child sponsorship.

I love that song. It was on my playlist for The Reverend Rocks radio show.

Sometimes it just takes a little "push." That little piece of artwork - which I will definitely frame and hang in our living room - will cost us $35/month for the foreseeable future, all for the benefit of a little girl a world away.

I don't have the same kind of following as Sandra McCracken, but I still want to shift my weight and add to the "push." If you've been on the fence about sponsoring a child, do it. I will send a signed copy of Any Day a Beautiful Change to the first ten people to email me with the name of their newly sponsored child. (Email me at katherinepershey at gmail dot com; books will ship in early April.)

It will cost you way more to get your copy this way, but it will help justice roll down.

The Coat

2011-12-06T20:30:00.001-06:00

Not just any coat.

I found it on a clearance rack at a store in Washington DC about eleven years ago, and I wanted it so badly I... well, I wanted it so badly I bought it.

Even at the time I thought it was kind of ridiculous. I think it's beautiful, but in a ridiculous way.

(I'm fairly sure "beautiful in a ridiculous way" is one of the better definitions for "gaudy.")

It wasn't very "me." Maybe it was just a purely aspirational buy. I wanted to be the kind of girl who wore that kind of coat, and for 75% off I could be her.

But if it started out as an aspirational buy, it became something more.

I vividly remember showing it off to Lauren, the campus minister who lead the organization visiting DC over spring break. She knew that I had been going through a rough time, and I will never forget what she said.

"Katherine, that is not a coat for mourning."

Suddenly my ridiculously beautiful coat meant something.

And, in the same moment, the vocation of ministry meant something new.

I hadn't before realized that one of the things ministers might get to do would be to reframe the impulse purchases of melancholy girls, to turn a faux fur trimmed coat into a means of grace and healing.

Together, we decided it was my technicolor dream coat. Together, we grafted my story onto the biblical story (though thankfully, me and my coat did not meet the same fate as Joseph and the original TDC).

It's taken me years to realize that the coat, and the conversation about the coat, are a piece of my call to ministry. There are so many pieces to that mosaic, and it's a gift to discover one every so often.

The reason I discovered this one is that I'm wearing it again, for the first time in years. I rarely, if ever, wore it in California. It didn't get cold enough, and besides, as a seminarian and brand new pastor I think I was too sheepish about gold threaded embroidery. It spent seasons in the back of my closet, unworn.

But now that I'm in the Midwest, now that I'm a little more in touch with the facet of my aesthetic that is all about ridiculous beauty, now that I'm in another post-mourning season, it's back in the rotation.

It fits perfectly. It's warm. It was one of those decisions I made as a very young adult that only becomes more right as I become a not-so-very-young adult.

God called Johnny Cash to be the man in black, and God called me to be the woman in the gaudy coat.

Thanks be to God.

An Advent Wail

2011-11-30T15:43:00.001-06:00

I revised and adapted one of my very favorite sermons from SBCC to preach at FCCWS last Sunday. (Thanks, Fred Craddock, for saying that if a sermon isn't good enough to preach a second time, it wasn't good enough to preach the first time.) I heard a bit of grumbling on FB last week about the wacky lectionary scriptures for the first Sunday of Advent, but I love that stuff. We can't let the billboard people be the only ones talking about eschatology, right?

Without further adieu:

An Advent Wail

Isaiah 64:1-9

Mark 13:24-37

Afew weeks ago – I think it was the morning of our Family Service – the childrenin worship were really loud. We expect that, of course. Welcoming children intoworship means welcoming their frequent whispers and their wiggling – as well astheir occasional shouts and stomps. Before long the dull roar quieted, as eventhe squirmiest children were either engaged in worship or off to childcare.

Thankfully,we hear children not just on family service days but most every Sunday. There’sthe bustle of First Steps and the exodus to Sunday School. And, we almostalways hear at least one nice big holler from one of our babies, letting usknow, in no uncertain terms, that they need some attention. I think I speakpretty confidently on behalf of all the parents of young children that we arereally, really grateful that this is not the kind of church where you get dirtylooks when your baby fusses.

And the capacity for a young child to wail is anawesome thing. We tend to think that grown-ups have the corner on self-expression.After all, we have words. We can be as precise in our meanings as ourvocabularies will allow. We can go on for paragraphs about how we feel on aparticular subject. When we’re angry, we can say, “I’m angry.” When we’rehungry, we can say, “When’s lunch?” A baby communicates without words, whichleaves parents with some guesswork. That being said, I’ve never mistaken diapercry for separation anxiety cry. The screaming panic of a baby who isexperiencing the normal developmental stage of separation anxiety is enough tosend the mountains quaking.

As we grow up, we’re taught to speak politely. Nointerrupting, no public weeping, and certainly no breaking the solemn quiet ofworship. If anybody but a baby made such a ruckus during worship, we’d have prettysignificant concern for that person.

Kirsten Linklater, a voice and acting teacher,explains the transformation like this. One day your two year old runs into theroom and hollers, in his biggest outdoor voice, “I want a cookie!” You tell himhe can have a cookie when he asks for it nicely. So he runs in again, and saysin a slightly unnatural sounding voice, “May I have a cookie please?” Hereceives praise; he learned to say the right words and use the right tone.

But the reason he sounded a little unnatural isbecause it was a little unnatural; he’s in the process of being socialized.Which isn’t a bad thing. Most parents consider it a very good thing when theirchildren develop good language and etiquette.

So what do we lose in the process? There’s atrade-off, for sure. We gain a lot – the capacity to have conversations andexpress ourselves with greater clarity. In turn, our freedom to haul off andwail is history. We clip the full range of our voices to whatever isconsidered socially acceptable.

But what about when we need what we’ve lost? Whatabout when we need to express joy, sorrow, or longing that is beyond oursocially acceptable range of expression? I wonder if it’s even possible toreclaim the outer reaches of the voice we were born with, to weep and rejoiceas completely as children do.

In this year’s lectionary cycle, Advent season beginswith a wail. Isaiah weeps, and even though he uses words to give voice to hislonging, the sentiment he shares is certainly past what is socially acceptablefor the holiday season. “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down,that the mountains would tremble before you!”, he howls.

“As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water toboil, come down to make your name known to your enemies and cause the nationsto quake before you!”

You see, Isaiah and his people were wracked withseparation anxiety. Like an infant panicking when her father leaves the room,the Israelites keened in the absence of their Father. They knew the stories ofGod’s providential care, unrelenting mercy, and awesome deeds. But they knewthe stories only by hearsay. They had not seen this God for themselves. Theyrecognized that they had sinned against God. They had broken their covenantwith him. And in turn, God had hidden his face from them.

Or maybe it was the other way around. Isaiah can’tseem to think straight here. Was it God’s absence that drove the people to sin,or the peoples’ sin that chased God away? All he knows is sheer despair. All hewants is for God to come and save his people, to wrap them in his mercifulembrace, to replace their filthy rags with robes of righteousness, to make itokay again.

It isn’t a polite speech. Our Advent prophet is fedup and freaked out. Our reading stopped at verse nine, perhaps to spare us fromthe worst of his rant. Eugene Peterson translates the climax of Isaiah’sdiatribe like this: “In the face of all this, are you going to sit thereunmoved, God? Aren't you going to say something? Haven't you made us miserablelong enough?”

It’s just not the kind of thing you can say in yourindoor voice.

The words of Jesus we heard today, though profoundlydifferent than the words of Isaiah, share his fever pitch. Where Isaiah isconsumed by God’s absence, Jesus embodies the presence of God. Isaiah longedfor God to tear open the heavens and come down; well, here you go. In theflesh. And just as the mountains quaked at the presence of God in times past,the words of Jesus here could easily ignite fires and boil water.

Our beloved soft-spoken healer is more like an alarmclock here, imploring us with the refrain: Keep awake, keep awake, keep awake.

And for what must we keep awake? For what does Jesusbid us watch, at the start of this Advent season? His glorious return.

So let’sget this straight. On this first Sunday of Advent, the season in which weprepare our hearts to celebrate the birth of Christ, we begin with the cries oftwo impassioned, impolite prophets. One begs for the presence of God. Hisyearning would be sharpened into prayers for the Messiah, the anointed one ofGod who would bring reconciliation and restoration to Israel. The secondprophecy is spoken by the One whom we believe is that Messiah. Yet he points toanother time of separation, another period of waiting and hoping, andultimately, at a day and hour no one knows, a second Advent.

If you’re wondering, as I have wondered, why thisseason begins with such jarring cries, consider the words of a wise preacher:“if the church cannot proclaim and look forward to the second Advent of Christ,then in all honesty there is precious little sense in making much ado about hisfirst advent in Bethlehem". What began at that blessed nativity, when thehopes and fears of all of the years found a home in a squalling baby boy, isnot yet finished.

The words of Isaiah remind us how desperately we needour savior. And the words of Christ remind us that the work of salvation is yetunfolding.

The Advent work of waiting and watching is not forthe faint-hearted. It means confessing with brutal honesty just how badly weneed God. It means uncovering our shame and doubt and failures. It even means,sometimes, railing against a God who refuses to operate according to our ficklewhims and wills.
Our throats may go hoarse if we pray in the feverpitch of Isaiah’s prayers, yet I wonder if there is any other way to do it.

But take heart, you who long to be ready for Christwhen he comes. Though we may need the fullness of our voices now to express thedepth of our longing and lamentation, there will be a time, soon and very soon,to shout praises and alleluias with a fervor we’ve never before experienced.

We will give voice to a purer joy than we’ve everknown. We will tell it on the mountaintops and whisper it in our babies’ ears and we willsing, and we will sing, and we will sing. May we lose our voices and give our lives for the onewho will restore light and life to a darkened, dying world. Amen.

Family, Afar

2011-11-26T20:59:00.001-06:00

We just got back from a week in Arizona, visiting Ben's side of the family for Thanksgiving. Juliette was pretty excited to see her "big kid cousins" for the first time since early spring 2010.

Who knew that big kid cousins could be as fun as little kid cousins?

It was a wonderful visit.

Those big kid cousins were so great with their little kid cousins.

Supposedly Juliette even beat Austin once during their post-Thanksgiving feast arcade extravaganza.

Meanwhile, Genevieve chatted about politics with the grown-ups.

(Doesn't it look like that's what she's doing?)

After having seen most of our immediate family within the last few months, I'm grateful but also a little bit sad.

Maybe even more than a little bit sad.

Sometimes we go well over a year without seeing family members. We try to keep up, through phone calls and video chats and blog posts and Facebook (one of the cool things about having big kid nephews and niece - though, really, the older two aren't even big kids anymore. They're in college!).

But it isn't the same as seeing them in person. At this stage, even a few months means a whole lot of change, at least in the little kids. They are moving targets - no sooner do you get to know them on one visit, but time swoops in and transforms them into something new by the next visit.

It's a darn good thing we always manage to just pick up where we left off.

Ten on Tuesday

2011-11-15T20:28:00.001-06:00

1. Shhh, don't tell G**gle, but I made a G+ account the other day and I cannot figure out the flow of that site for the life of me. Every so often a web thing comes along that is over my head. Like Twitter. I haven't the foggiest idea how a hashtag works, #excepttohavefiguredoutpeoplemakeupfakeones.

2. I ate sloppy joes yesterday for the first time in probably twenty years. Before I started working with people who are quite into them, I had nearly forgotten they even existed. I had to admit they were pretty tasty. Our ministry team has decided to have them for lunch on a quarterly basis; I volunteered to make the next batch from scratch. Supposedly you can't beat the can, but I'm boldly taking the manwichmafia on.

3. How fun is it that I work with people who make long-term plans involving sloppy joes? And if that weren't enough, we've been dipping into some leftover ice cream and root beer in the church kitchen to make root beer floats.

4. Juliette and Ben have been getting into all kinds of papercrafting lately; they are destined to be the team to beat in the World Kirigami Competition in 2016, if there is such a thing. And, Juliette's drawing has exploded. She draws all kinds of things that look like the things they are supposed to be.

Exhibit A, Rapunzel:

Exhibit B, Tiger:

5. Five or six years ago, my mother-in-law gave me a pair of lavender pajamas with scotty dogs printed all over them. Reader, I did not know I wanted such unusual pajamas until they landed in my lap one fateful Christmas morning. I have worn those flannel lovelies into the ground. Today Ben surprised me with red and white polka dot replacements. They aren't scotty dogs, but they'll do!

6. I love this baby. She is just so sweet.

So, so sweet.

7. This morning I mixed up a new batch of my face cleanser, which is 1/2 cup of olive oil and 1/2 cup of castor oil. Oh, and a few drops of Tea Tree oil, but that's totally optional. It took me about a year to use up the first batch. I absolutely adore the Oil Cleansing Method for face washing: cheap, natural, effective, pleasant.

8. I planned our worship service for the first Sunday of Advent this afternoon, and I felt all giddy just thinking about the purple paraments and greens and Advent candles. I love Advent, and the first Sunday of Advent is the one Sunday you really get to go all-out on Advent without the Christmassy stuff starting to sneak in.

9. I've been rereading Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace for my book group. He was such a brilliant, exuberant writer. I still grieve his death as a casual fan of his writing, and also as someone who knows people who knew and loved him personally, not as "David Foster Wallace" but as Dave.

10. Perhaps it's a bit late to be posting the Halloween photos, but I only just got around to taking them off my camera. Juliette was a fantastic Fancy Nancy, and Genevieve borrowed a Dillow costume to be an utterly bewitching witch.

Happy Tuesday!

Nametag, etc.

2011-11-12T20:30:00.001-06:00

I am in danger of becoming one of those people who talks about how busy they are all the time. I have been so busy lately.

One of the things I've been working on happened today, a half day retreat for the Moms in Faith group at church. It was really, really good. Especially the Christian Yoga experience and the collage-nametag making experience.

(Which were, incidentally, the two things I didn't have anything to do with planning or leading.)

Here's my nametag, front and back:

There's bricks for our new house, the ocean for the bit of California that still resides in me, books for, well, books, and a peacock feather. Peacock feathers have become a symbol of friendship for me... they remind me of dear Allison, who wore a peacock feather in her hair when I did her wedding to dear Anthony. And dear Allison is such a quintessential friend she reminds me of friendship in general, if that makes sense.

So, from now on, as far as I'm concerned, peacock feathers = friendship. Sadly, that piece was the aspirational aspect of my collage, as somehow regular contact with my friends has been all but squeezed out of my calendar these days.

(See, there I go talking about The Busyness again.)

The backside, the heart-side, is all about peace and beauty and family and rootedness. And a sea turtle. I learned while researching a chapter for my book that turtles are a symbol of motherhood and wisdom.

I like the juxtaposition of the sea turtle and the state of Illinois. Just like I liked the front size juxtaposition of the bricks and the ocean. It makes a lot of sense to me that California is a place I yearned for, a place I went, and a place I left.

It's a place I miss, but a place I do not want to live again.

I didn't expect this to be about California.

But it is.

But, it's even more so about home. And as much as I love, love, love the people I met in California - including a certain Juliette, who is 100% Californian - it was never home.

I'm home.

Book (And Snow Wolf) Update

2011-11-08T15:55:00.001-06:00

Remember how Ben suggested one might purchase a copy of my book along with a Snow Wolf when ordering from Amazon? Guess what comes up on the bottom of the book listing, thanks to Amazon's algorithms?

"Customers who viewed this item also viewed the Snow Wolf."

I laughed out loud. It reminded me of a totally inane algorithmic suggestion back in the early days of Amazon selling things other than books; I think it was for a Friedrich Schleiermacher book, and the customers were also viewing underwear.

I don't think I will ever stop thinking things like that are funny.

Anyway, the really big news is that we finally have our cover. Marie took the photograph, and Elizabeth did a mock-up of the design to help me convey my vision to the folks at Chalice. Fitting for a book about family, eh?

Here it is:

I love it. I love that it's us, but that you can't actually see any of our faces. (Especially since I really disliked my haircut at the time.)

In other news, the Snow Wolf is now shipping for free! Two weeks ago it was $17. You know you want one...

All Those Ribbons

2011-11-02T23:06:00.000-05:00

A terrible thing happened nearby last week. This post is cross-published on my local Patch blog.

Last week I happened upon a quote I immediately recognized as a near-perfect reflection of my philosophy of life: “It’s a beautiful heartbreaking imperfect world. And it’s a gift to be alive in it."

The next day the gift of life was violently stolen from Kelli Joy O’Laughlin, and the world abruptly became that much more heartbreaking and imperfect. Not just the world; the neighborhood.

We have all been deeply affected by her tragic and senseless murder. We mourn for the death of a beloved child of God, ache for her devastated family, and shudder at the nearness of the crime. We ask harrowing questions: How can humanity be so vile? How can God let such things happen?

We weep, and double check the locks on our doors, and hug our children too tightly.

I was out of town over the weekend, and returned home at dusk on Tuesday night to behold tree after tree marked with white ribbons. The sight of all those ribbons is devastating and moving. Each one evokes the memory of a girl named Kelli Joy. Each one bears testimony to our shared horror at her death. Each one cries out for justice to be done. And each one silently proclaims that this community refuses to let fear and violence prevail.

We will be a hopeful community, despite our grief. A trusting community, despite the loss of our innocence. A loving community, despite our rage. We will not forsake this beautiful heartbreaking imperfect world, or let the incursion of evil convince us that life is anything but a profoundly sacred gift.

Each one of those ribbons pledges we will be neighbors.

The Benefits of Living in an Imperfect Family

2011-10-26T23:22:00.002-05:00

I frequently hear reports about Juliette's Sunday School exploits. Oftentimes it's about her dancing. (How much do I love that her Sunday School class regularly includes dancing?!) That one time it was about how she had shared at length during their joys and concerns time about the temper tantrum she'd had that morning. And then the other day one of her teachers shared that they were making a list of ways they could help God - helping others, listening to their parents, picking up litter, etc. Juliette piped up that even when they didn't do the right thing, God forgives us and loves us anyway.

They were so impressed they had her repeat it. When we don't do the right thing, God forgives and loves us anyway.

The presumption, I presume, is that Juliette is a classic PK, the recipient of a rigorous religious education. And to some extent she is. We read Big Momma and pray together and tonight she watched the "God show" on my iPad (the Tommy Nelson Bible story app). But I can't help but think that the reason this kid knows about forgiveness is that we seek it so often in this family. "I'm sorry" is one of our top ten phrases.

Maybe top five.

Okay, fine, top three.

And I'm okay with that. We are imperfect. But we forgive one another and love one another anyway. And, from the mouth of my child: God forgives us and loves us anyway.

Update the Christmas List, Kids

2011-10-25T20:51:00.003-05:00

I was a little giddy this morning when I found out that my book is available for pre-sale on Amazon. And then I was a lot giddy when Ben pointed out that one could purchase it in tandem with the Snow Wolf (the snow shovel formerly known as the SnoWovel).

I mean, what could possibly be better than that?!

The Best Story: An Imperfect Christmas Eve Pageant

2011-10-20T10:22:00.000-05:00

In June, I started working on a script for our Christmas Eve Pageant. I've revised it several times since, taking into account some great feedback from other writers as well as a theater professional.

That said, I have no experience writing plays. Well, that's not true. I write one act plays for Father's Day that have never been produced and have only been read by Ben. How's that for credentials! This has never been staged. It might be a disaster!

Having issued that disclaimer, I'm making this available for anyone who wants to use it. I've licensed it with Creative Commons with a license that allows for adaptation so long as it includes the original attribution. Here's that info:

The Best Story: An Imperfect Christmas Eve Pageant by Katherine Willis Pershey is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.

Basically: have at it. If it seems like parts of it would work for your church, go for it. There are definitely parts of this that are written very specifically for my context. Change it however you see fit. Pass it along. Have fun. I'm super excited to get started on the production piece of this in the weeks to come, and hope it works on the stage.

Merry Early Christmas!

The Best Story: An Imperfect Christmas Eve PageantEDITED TO ADD: I would love to know if your church or school is producing this. Leave me a comment or send me an email, please. :) katherinepershey at gmail dot com.

Midweek Miscellany

2011-10-19T20:49:00.004-05:00

1. I am not going to reach my goal of reading 50 books this year. I've encountered an unusual number of books I just can't seem to finish this year, and also seem to spend more and more time reading the New York Times. I'm pretty much obsessed with the NYT Magazine. I learned so much about piracy in the Indian Ocean last week, and about food the week before, and about Mindy Kaling the week before that. It's good reading. So, as much as I hate to fall short of a goal, I'm going to have to just say: oh well.

2. Speaking of the New York Times, "Notes from a Dragon Mom" was a devastating and beautiful reflection that I highly recommend reading, but only if you have tissues on hand.

3. I finally took Ben to Egg Harbor Cafe for lunch today. It's a place that's only open for breakfast and lunch and is insanely busy on the weekends, so the previous iteration of our life didn't make it easy for Ben to eat there. Lawd, it's good food. I get the same thing every time - chilaquiles with eggs poached hard. Ben has historically been extremely leery about me ordering eggs poached hard, as they so often show up on the table looking like they are training for the Boston Marathon. Ew. I cannot. stand. runny. eggs. But Egg Harbor manages to get it right every time, and today the waitress even told me to check and make sure they were cooked enough before she left. Be still my hard-egg-yolk-loving heart!

4. I was feeling some momentary melancholy this afternoon as I started nursing Genevieve; having gone from spending nearly every waking moment with her to seeing her a few times throughout the workday for feedings, I fretted that she might start thinking of me as the milk machine. But then in the middle of eating she stopped, looked up at me, broke into an enormous grin that sent milk streaming out of her mouth and down her cheek, and then only after a moment of lovey gazing went back to her meal. Oh, sweet Genevieve.

5. And really, how amazing is it that I work full time yet rarely miss a feeding? Between living so very close and Juliette going to preschool at church, we've discovered that it's remarkably easy for me to nurse throughout the day. I think it's been over a week since she's had a bottle, which means I need to toss that one in the back of the fridge...

6. Juliette announced today that she intends to become a pastor. A few weeks ago she wanted to be a teacher, so we'll see. I could see her becoming either. I will be surprised if she doesn't end up in some sort of helping/healing profession.

7. I think the only television show I have loved as much as Parenthood was Six Feet Under. (Peter Krause wins!) I thought Six Feet Under made me a better pastor, and I think Parenthood makes me a better mother.

8. It looks as though I have finally scored my personal trifecta: I have a writing group, a book club, and a racquetball partner. That said, I did miss a meeting of my book club today on account of my post-maternity leave craziness.

9. Speaking of my writing group - holy cow, did we get brilliant news this week. Our panel discussion, "The Beloved Writing Community," was accepted for the Calvin College Festival of Faith and Writing (April 19-21). Dude, MARILYNNE ROBINSON is going to be there. Among so many other writers I deeply admire. Given that I started working on my part of our application on July 17th - that would be during the early hours of my labor - and we had to have it all in by August 1st - that would be when I had a two-week-old-baby - I'm tickled pink.

10. Ben painted Juliette's face on Saturday morning - no particular reason, just for fun. I'd say Juliette's shirt - which reads "My Dad Rocks" - is right on.

I'm thinking I'm all in for this "midweek miscellany" thing. No pressure to have ten items, no pressure to post on Tuesday... works for me.

Book Review: Bless Her Heart

2011-10-18T20:27:00.001-05:00

Bless Her Heart: Life as a Young Clergy Woman by Ashley-Anne Masters
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Wow.

I hoped this would be good. I expected it to be good. But I didn't expect it to be this good.

First of all, I have to admit that there was another book in my mind as I started reading this - "A Church of Her Own" by Sarah Sentilles. I was deeply troubled by that book. I completely trusted the veracity of the difficult experiences the women Sentilles interviewed. No doubt about it, terrible things happen in the church. But I struggled with the one-sidedness of the critique. The anger of the critique. Sentilles has little love for the church, and it shows on every page of her book. I was disappointed that "A Church of Her Own" did not reflect my experience in ministry, and deeply hoped that "Bless Her Heart" would.

Oh, does it ever.

That's the first thing I loved about this book. The vast majority of it resonated with me, or with stories I have heard from friends. I loved that the authors spoke in the first person plural; at first I thought it was just a matter of their co-authorship, but then I realized that it accomplished a great feat: helping young clergy women understand that they are not alone. They are part of a great "we".

Several times they had me so pegged I had to laugh. I was completely weepy at the end of the chapter called "Pregnant in the Pulpit", and turned the page only to discover through tear-filled eyes that the next chapter was called "Jesus Wept: The Role and Power of Emotions." Of course, by the end of that chapter I was in tears again. Don't be fooled by the seemingly "light" quality of this book, what with its chapters on pedicures and hemlines. It delves right into the heart of what it means to be a minister - just, as it so happens, a minister in lipstick.

But the most wonderful element of this book is how saturated it is in scriptures. Nearly every page includes biblical allusions or metaphors or illustrations. Many if not most young clergy women have had their calls questioned by people using scripture "against" us. To read such a profoundly biblical understanding of women in ministry was so empowering.

By no means does this book paint a rosy picture of ministry; rather, the narratives reveal a complicated but ultimately blessed way of life. And, the authors gently encourage a vision and practice of ministry that keeps love for God and community at the center. The closing narrative captures this perfectly; "I am aware of the sacrifices I have made of this ministry... But, for me, I love this church, and feel blessed to be a part of the lives of the members of the congregation. It has been quite the challenge, but I am glad that God has given me the strength and wisdom to enjoy this ministry."

Thank you so much to Ashley-Anne Masters and Stacy Smith. I only wish you'd written this ten years ago!

View all my reviews

Exponentially Juliette

2011-10-16T19:42:00.001-05:00

I don't know how else to put it: Juliette just seemed especially Juliette today. Like, exponentially Juliette. A few Sunday snapshots:

1. After a fairly rough morning, Juliette was a charmer at church. When I whispered to her that we were going to pray, she immediately folded her hands together and bowed her head. And then, when we had to dash out after worship to make it to the harvest festival an hour away - I was in possession of the worship bulletins, plus had to get there in time to issue the call to worship - she allowed herself to be ushered past the post-service treats without stopping to get a piece. She didn't so much as whine about it.

2. This is the doorknob hanger she made during Sunday school:

I think it is possible that I might overemphasize the "be careful with breakable stuff" principle. It does seem to work. Of course, by saying this I will completely jinx it, but Juliette has been using her Royal Dalton nursery dishes that are quite breakable for over a year now, without so much as a chip.

3. This is one of my all-time favorite Juliette moments. I could not stop laughing. After the worship service at the harvest festival, we were eating lunch with some of the folks from the other church. Juliette says to the woman across from us, "I like your hand toenails." Ohmygoodness, I just started giggling again. The woman did have very pretty polish on her hand toenails, otherwise known as fingernails. I think I just pulled my spleen.

4. After we got back from the festival, I was feeling the need to work off the four desserts I consumed (banana cake with cream cheese frosting, peach pie, apple pie, and half of Juliette's peanut butter-chocolate rice crispie treat). I went running and Juliette came along on her bike. She made for a great running partner; my running pace is precisely that of a preschooler on training wheels. She was quite encouraging, "Go! Go! You can do it!" until she decided it was time to go to the park. I tricked her into running drills with me - racing back and forth across the soccer field - until she decided it was time to be chased, fling herself on the ground, and wait for me to tickle her. We had so much fun. And I got an even better workout than I did yesterday when "Americano" came on at just the moment I was flagging.

5. I'm fairly sure Juliette has coined the next big phrase. When we were playing at the park, she kept exclaiming, "That's so kick!" You heard it here first.

6. I'm cheating: this one was from yesterday. But still in the same twenty-four-hour period. I was telling Juliette about how she could have some hot chocolate this winter, and asking her if she thought she'd like that, and as she went to answer in the affirmative, a big long strand of drool fell out of her mouth, completely accidentally. We guffawed. Methinks Juliette has a serious thing for chocolate.

7. Finally: Juliette still loves the hokey children's bible. She wanted to read the stories to Genevieve tonight. She did such a nice job of telling this one I had her retell it for the camera. Did you know the Three Wise Men went sailing with Jesus? Sure 'nuff.

That Juliette. She's just so... Juliette.

Three Pictures of Genevieve

2011-10-15T17:14:00.003-05:00

Just because.

Really Good Recipe

2011-10-11T20:37:00.003-05:00

I've tried two recipes from my Pinterest food board, and the first one was a forgettable flop. Literally... I can't even remember what it was. But oh, the broccoli-quinoa casserole? Insanely good. Before you roll your eyes and get back to what you're supposed to be doing right now, know that Ben was utterly convinced that he would dislike this, and he liked it a lot.

The original recipe is here. But I did a couple things that I think played a part in its awesomeness. I left out the splenda - not only do we not have splenda, but I was a little eeked out at the thought of adding sweetness to a savory dish. No thanks. I forgot to add the nutmeg. I used the Trader Joe's Cream of Shitake Mushroom soup (condensed and boxed), which I think is a little tastier than regular condensed soups. And finally I added about a half a package of diced tofu. It was a great addition, because it added a good amount of protein, and blended into the casserole so seamlessly you couldn't even tell it was there. (I'm fine with the presence of tofu, but certain others in the household were glad it was a well-behaved stowaway.)

Juliette did not eat the finished project, but ate her weight in tofu cubes, broccoli, and cheese while she was helping make it.

Really, really good main dish.

Monday Miscellany

2011-10-10T20:37:00.000-05:00

1. Last week was, as the kids say, a humdinger. (Actually, I don't think the kids say that. I think only my mother says that.) I kind of remember thinking I might be packing too much in to my first week back when I decided to start not one but two new programs. But I'm so pleased with how they both went. Our new weekly Bible study totally got the giggles over a very funny difference in translation, and we had ten people at our new monthly writing group.

2. Speaking of things mothers say, the other day I said, "What the...?" about something or another. And Juliette piped up, "Heck!" It was pointed out to me that "heck" is a lot better than some of the alternatives. Part of me feels kind of sheepish that I use the phrase "what the heck" enough that it can be a call-and-response with the three-year-old, but on the other hand, I can imagine my children recalling their mama's quaint syntax when they are adults, and that will surely be on the list.

3. "What the heck" reminds me of a related phrase that is apparently popular in Utah: "oh my heck." Which reminds me how much I miss my dear friend Charise, who introduced it to me. I once had a mug custom-emblazoned with that phrase for her. I hope she thinks about me when she uses it.

4. When I was little, we used to take first day of school photographs on a rock in our neighbors' yard. Juliette clambered onto this rock downtown the other day, and instead of harping at her to keep walking, I had a big wave of nostalgia and had to document it with another Instagram shot.

5. For the last four years I've written one-act plays for Ben for Father's Day, and now I'm expanding my drama-writing repertoire. I'm working on revisions for an original script for our family Christmas Eve pageant. It's pretty funny. At least, I laughed out loud while I was typing certain lines.

6. I loved this article by Carey Wallace about the discipline of creativity. I like that it is equally intimidating and inspiring, as I've always needed a bit of intimidation to access the fullness of my creativity.

7. This man adores his daughters, and they adore him right back:

8. On Friday night, I designed a website and I wrote an entire sermon in one sitting. Upon reporting this to both of my sisters and asking, "Why do I do things like that??", they both answered: because you're related to me. Being a Willis girl definitely entails hobbling away from creative projects, sore from hours of hunching over your work. We were wondering from whence this came, and I'm remembering a story about my grandmother in which broke her leg - it had fallen asleep while she was sitting, and it gave out when she stood up. How much do you want to bet she had been doing needlepoint?

9. Speaking of that website... my fancy new author website, compliments of Blogger: voila!

As Different as Could Be

2011-10-08T14:07:00.000-05:00

They look a bit a like, don't they?

Genevieve, almost three months


Juliette, three months

But from day one, they are just so different. Of course they are both sweet and adorable and perfect in my eyes. But at birth, Genevieve was sleepy and mellow, whereas Juliette was fitful and, to be blunt, kind of angry. But Juliette luxuriated in our arms. She loved to be held, and was totally at rest when she had skin-to-skin contact. She couldn't get to sleep unless she was being nursed or rocked or carried around. Ben used to pace for hours to get her to go to sleep. We could set her down without waking her up, but Lord have mercy if she did wake up, because she would be irate to discover that she was in her crib. We ended up becoming attachment parents because we had an attachment baby; I can't even imagine what it would have been like around here if we hadn't adjusted our parenting style to her very clearly communicated needs.

Genevieve, on the other hand, is not an attachment baby. She gets upset if she's tired and you don't get her settled into her crib quickly enough. She likes a tight swaddle and a clean pacifier, maybe a little white noise, and she's good to go. Although she sleeps for stretches as long as six or seven hours at night, she rarely goes to sleep in our arms. When she's done with her milk, she's done nursing. Sometimes I misread her cues and tick her off by offering to nurse instead of her beloved pacifier. She always wakes up if we have to move her. And we discovered another difference this week, while dog sitting. She is incredibly reactive to sound. The dog's bark has scared her a few times, and for a few moments she's completely inconsolable. Juliette did not so much as wince when the puggle barked during her newlycome days.

I'm realizing that these are more than just personality differences. They have different physiologies, it seems. I marvel at this, since after all they have the same set of parents.

Somehow having two makes it all the more clear that there is something within them that is more than the sum of their nurture and nature, that they are more than just a mashup of our DNA and a product of our culture. Somehow having two makes me all the more mindful that these two little girls have been outfitted with unique and lovely souls, a spark that is wholly divine. And just as it's our responsibility to figure out what our girls need to sleep and feel safe and loved, we also have the responsibility of tending those altogether unique sparks.

What a gift this all is.

Thank You, Steve Jobs.

2011-10-05T20:06:00.001-05:00

I remember when the guy from the Apple store came to our house to set up our Apple IIGS. I spent hours on that computer, playing Oregon Trail and Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?. I typed out the manuscript of the mystery novel I wrote in the fourth grade on it.

I wrote poem after poem after poem on the Grape iMac I bought during my sophomore year of college.

Okay, I wasn't pleased when I lost all of our European vacation pictures due to a "Sad Mac" episode on the MacBook.

I wrote the vast majority of my book on this iMac desktop, and it is the primary tool with which I archive our family's life. My camera is useless without it.

Earlier this week, I wished my grandmother a happy 93rd birthday over FaceTime. I haven't seen her in over nine years, and while an image on a screen is no substitute for flesh and blood, I was grateful that our pixelated connection hid the tears in my eyes.

And tonight, I was FaceTiming with Lara when her husband called to say that Steve Jobs had passed away, during the height of apple season.

To say that Steve Jobs has had a profound effect on my life - all our lives - what an understatement.

Thank you, Steve Jobs.

Forty-Three Pages Better Than Splendid

2011-10-04T15:40:00.002-05:00

Chalice Press just started taking pre-orders for my book, Any Day a Beautiful Change: A Story of Faith and Family. The books will ship in February 2012; won't that be a nice midwinter pick-me-up?

Here's the official description:

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the minister with the baby carriage. In this collection of interrelated personal essays, Katherine Willis Pershey chronicles the story of her life as a young pastor, mother, and wife. At turns hilarious and harrowing, deeply moving and gently instructive, Pershey’s reflections will strike a chord with anyone who has ever rocked a newborn, loved an alcoholic, prayed for the redemption of a troubled relationship, or groped in the dark for the living God.

I worked so hard on this thing. Dude, I turned in forty-three pages of revisions after Chalice had said it was fine. Actually, they said it was "splendid." Which technically makes this forty-three pages better than splendid. Forgive me for being so direct, but pretty please won't you pre-order your copy today?

Sunday Night Miscellany

2011-10-02T21:39:00.000-05:00

1. I'm back to work. And surprisingly, I didn't even need a nap after church. Everything went really well, except for Juliette's megatantrum after worship. And that wasn't specific to me going back to work, but Juliette just being Juliette. That kid has the most amazing energy, and we can thank our lucky stars that she uses it constructively most of the time.

2. Yesterday Genevieve and I spent the morning at a workshop at the Loyola University Museum of Art - "Theology, Art, and the Imagination: The Saint John's Bible." I sure do love the Saint John's Bible. They have an extremely nifty new teaching tool that leads you through a process of "visio divina" - like "lectio divina," only with the added dimension of images.

3. We are splitting a meat CSA share with our new next door neighbors. This makes me very happy on so many levels.

4. I admit that my favorite part of the New York Times is the Magazine; it's just so good, especially the Mark Bittman essays. Case in point: "Cooking makes you care about nourishment, family meals, relaxation, skills, control, health, the environment, culture and the earth. And it leads your kids to care about these things, too." Of course he goes on to say that's not enough, that we need a return to sustainability. See #3 above...

5. Juliette wants to be a ballerina for Halloween. I'm hoping she changes her mind, because it's pretty hard to trick-or-treat in a leotard. Brrr. We're trying to convince her that it would be really cool to be a gorilla in a tutu. Much warmer.

6. I'm thinking I should probably establish some sort of simple author website, with links to online booksellers, a bio, reviews, etc. If you have any advice about this, I would gladly accept it. I don't really want to turn this blog into book marketing central, y'know? I want it to be what it's always been: an ever-evolving space for writing practice and memory keeping.

7. But speaking of my book: word has it from Chalice Press that it's going to be available for pre-order within the next few weeks. I continue to be equally excited and terrified about this whole thing.

8. Last week my writing group spent two days in Western Michigan, in a borrowed cottage by the lake. I cannot overstate how magnificent it was. Oh, did I mention we pooled resources to bring a nanny along? Yeah, that's how to do it.

9. My most recent Instagram favorite, from our lazy Saturday afternoon:

Juliette continues to be utterly in love with her sister.

10. And, lest you think I never use my real camera anymore:

11. Last but not least, we are all beyond excited to be dog sitting this week! Tomorrow we welcome little Odo for a week of Camp Pershey.

Celebrating Success

2011-09-30T15:02:00.001-05:00

There are some people you'd love to see succeed. And then there are some people you'd really love to see succeed. Thanks to the FB age, for the last year, I've been following the amazing career of my old friend Matthew Zink. Last I'd heard, he had taken the Kent State University Fashion Department by storm, and scored an internship with in New York City with Carolina Herrera.

Matt was a great friend in high school. We were show choir buddies. He helped me pass chemistry. He took me to a dance when my college boyfriend was over the high school social scene. And with apologies to all my other dance dates, Matt kinda blew them out of the water. Granted, we didn't have the whole angsty "boyfriend/girlfriend" vibe working against us, but the night I spent dancing like a fool in the Stow High Commons with my dear friend Matt was all kinds of fun. We really, really wanted him to come to my girls-only sixteenth birthday party, so much so that we devised a plan that he would help me scrub all the patio windows to convince my mother he should be granted a waiver. Windows were washed, but the request for waiver was not granted. (My mother has since admitted that she totally should have let him come.)

So, my friend Matt is wildly successful at what he does, and what he does is design clothes. After working for the Victoria's Secret swimwear line for a while, he launched his own Charlie by Matthew Zink line. (Ben likes that I actively encourage him to check out girls in bikinis when Matt launches a new season.) His work is gorgeous, and is the darling of celebrities and upscale boutiques. I got so excited about seeing one of his swimsuits in a magazine at the obstetrician's office that I had to show the nurse before she took my blood pressure. It looks like Matt will be doing full collections before too long, and I can't wait to celebrate that stage of his career as well. It's just so wonderful to watch someone so creative and smart and good-hearted do so well.


Matt modeling a suit in Esquire Magazine


Jennifer Love Hewitt in one of Matt's designs

Instafam

2011-09-28T19:53:00.003-05:00

When I was in Ohio on the last minute licketysplit road trip - gosh, that was over a month ago now! - I walked around waving my iPad in peoples' faces so that I could have matching Instagram photos of everyone present. I love the Big Huge Labs mosaic I made with the snapshots (thanks to Elizabeth, who sent me a tutorial). Though it does make me awfully sad all over again that Ben couldn't come.

Behold, it is Instafam:

Get in Shape, Girl

2011-09-24T19:57:00.000-05:00

(Title of this post borrowed from the brand of exercise toys I had in the late 1980s.)

Having gestated, birthed, and nursed two babies now, I can see there's a definite pattern.I get pretty darn big by the end of the nine months, gaining quite a bit more weight than you're supposed to. And then the vast majority of it melts away by the time the newborn can hold her own head up. I don't actively try to lose it. I eat a lot of really healthy stuff - I swear, I spent half the summer with a knife in hand, cutting up vegetables. And then I eat enormous bowls of ice cream. Sometimes two in one day.

Granted, nothing is as it was before the pregnancy. Even though I currently weigh about five pounds more than my normal weight, very few of my clothes actually fit. This may be a bit of a problem, to be honest. The maternity stuff is almost completely boxed up, but the fall/winter wardrobe I invested in last year - after having run myself into the best shape I've ever been in my life last summer - is Not Gonna Happen. But I don't want to buy too much new stuff, because I'm fairly confident I'm going to be back in those jeans before Thanksgiving.

I ran today for the first time since the day I found out I was pregnant. (I ran four miles that day in November, wondering the entire time why I felt like I was going to keel over.) I was extremely active throughout this pregnancy - walking, mowing the lawn, etc. But I never worked hard enough to generate sweat or endorphins. And oh, did that first hit of endorphins feel good. I think I'm an endorphins junkie. I feel them, and I just want more. Which is how I ended up rollerblading a couple hours later - albeit slowly, since Juliette was along on her new scooter, and on account of my rusty balance.

I've come to the place where the point isn't how I look, but how I feel. (Believe me when I say I was not always at this point. Anyone else remember how jittery ephedra made you feel?)

But now, I'm just so excited to feel strong again, to feel energetic and powerful and healthy. And if there was any doubt that this is how I think - and therefore talk - about my exercise regimen, when I was getting ready to go to the gym last night, Juliette excitedly told me that when she grows up, she's going to go to the gym with me so she can be strong and healthy. Only it was more like: so I can be strong! and healthy!!

I hope and pray that the girls in this house keep up the pursuit of strength and health, of energy and, well, practically speaking, pants that fit. And that we steer our stationery bikes far, far away from some of the other reasons girls can get really fixated on working out.

Here's to strong and healthy. (And enormous bowls of ice cream.)

Countdown

2011-09-24T14:30:00.000-05:00

The countdown to my return to work is fast approaching - T minus eight days. I preach on World Communion Sunday and the following week, and kick off a new weekly Bible Study and monthly Writing Group in the same two week span. My calendar is perhaps a little ambitious, but I think I did enough planning before I left in July to not completely lose my mind in October. For the last few weeks I've been easing back in - I'm fully engaged in the moms group, and will spend much of the next week planning worship and writing my sermon. (Sans childcare, you know, but we'll figure it out.)

I'm happy to be going back, especially since Ben will be coming home. I know there will be plenty of moments when I feel stretched in one direction or the other (or both, most likely), but I'm also confident that both my church and my family will give me grace. Everything will be okay, so long as I live my moments faithfully: love on my family, work hard, eat good food, and get as much sleep and exercise as I can. (And write. And manage the household clutter. And keep in touch with my friends. And read the Sunday New York Times before the next Sunday New York Times arrives on our driveway, let alone the fifty books I challenged myself to read in 2011. And finally, for the love of God, finish writing my thank you cards. But there I am with the ambition again.) I'm acutely aware of a common pitfall, an almost kneejerk reaction to the pressures of working motherhood: believing that time is a commodity to be organized, an enemy to be conquered, that if you could only hoard enough of it you could finally cross out the dregs of your to do list.

For the first time I got a little weepy today, thinking about how when I return to work, a great deal of my energy will be flung toward Christmas Eve preparations - revising the pageant script, casting the play, sorting the costumes, creating the Powerpoint, picking the hymns. And how, on Christmas Eve, Genevieve will be nearing six months old. The difference between a ten-week-old baby and a twenty-three-week-old baby is astonishing. It's as though time collapses in on itself, or as though someone has set the record on the wrong speed. But only if you don't pay attention, if you let it sweep past you in a blur.

I don't expect to get everything done. I don't expect to capture every photograph I wish I could. I will probably forget something important, or be called away from a meeting because a child needs me. But, oh, I hope I pay attention to at least most of the moments.

Ten on the Day After Tuesday

2011-09-14T19:33:00.002-05:00

1. It is 6:44 and both of my children are in bed. Juliette is in the throes of giving up her nap again; she was done with it last spring, but the heat and fun of summer meant we had a nap reprise. On days she naps she can't fall asleep until after ten (boo!), but on days she doesn't she can hardly stay away for dinner. Exhibit A:

Tonight she fell asleep on the couch in her tights, leotard, and long-sleeved turtlenecked dance cover-up. It is not easy to remove such a getup to get pajamas on a sleeping child.

2. Elizabeth gave me the heads up about this recently released study about aggression in nursing mothers. It is a fascinating - and funny - article, and you should totally read it. I love that there is scientific proof that I am not to be trifled with.

3. Which reminds me of a recent incident in which I was, in a manner, trifled with. A very distinguished dean of a very distinguished divinity school quoted the interview I did in the Christian Century, in a fairly critical way. (It had to do with the bit where I cast aspersions on academic biblical studies, implying that scholarly study alone isn't sufficient preparation for pastoral ministry, but that ministers need to learn how to read the bible in the context of the faith community as well.) Thanks to the beauty of the internet, I heard about the sermon the day of, watched it online the day after, and sent off a cordial but ever-so-slightly-ruffled response by weekend's end. The distinguished dean was super nice in his return email. I'm pretty sure he fell of his chair that his comments were virtually overheard so swiftly.

4. Speaking of the Christian Century, I wrote about the Back to Church Sunday video for their blog last week.

5. Juliette is not yet allowed to use our home computer, but she loves playing on the library computer. I shot this video last week, proof that she is always and ever Little Miss Giggles:

6. I was called a mean mama for not letting Juliette touch the computer or iPad. Not by Juliette, but by a certain older sister. (The one who had apparently never been on a treadmill until yesterday.) So, I rectified the situation by downloading Drawing Pad.

7. The older sister who has been around the treadmill a few times needs to update her Photo 365 already. Chop chop.

8. We have a smiler. Oh, do I adore baby Genevieve. We have gazing contests.

9. Having heard from Erica about her experiences trying to shop for some Missoni gear at her Chicago Target, I decided I was going to check things out at the very suburban Target near us. I was 100% confident that the Missoni frenzy wouldn't have hit the 'burbs. Believe me when I say there was precisely one tube top remaining in the women's clothing section. I did find a few things scattered throughout the store, but most of the cupboards were bare. The Missoni stuff is cute, but I'm more of a Liberty of London girl myself.

10. It's official: Ben is once again going to be a stay-at-home father. He turned in his notice last week and will be home as of October, when my maternity leave comes to a close. It worked for us last time, and I think it's going to work even better for us this time. Juliette and Genevieve and I are some lucky girls.

Hopscotch

2011-09-12T23:45:00.000-05:00

I'm mildly obsessed with Instagram. For the most part, I use it to turn crummy, low-lighted, out of focus pictures into funky, visually appealing pop art. It's quick and easy, and even though there is a very good chance the future is already going "What were you thinking??", I like it.

But this, this is my favorite. This is leaps and bounds above my average Instagram shots - largely because I didn't actually take it. My father-in-law did. I loved the original, but I knew as soon as I saw it that it would make an Instagram masterpiece. It takes me back to the morning Juliette was outside with her Grandpa and Monica (Ben's step-mother), having the time of her life playing hopscotch.

p.s. These shoes, purple crocs, have since been taken out with the trash. Having been worn by the Dillow girls before they were passed on and worn hard by Juliette all summer long, they were so done.

Juliette the Great

2011-09-07T23:11:00.000-05:00

This is Juliette on the first day of school. Since she started attending preschool at nineteen months, this is the third time she's posed for a first day shot. I love this picture; it's so Juliette. The brilliant smile, the tilted head, the mismatched outfit. The beauty.

She's had a rough go of it lately, as a scary high fever (105.7!) last week threw off her sleep and her mood. We went days and days without temper tantrums this summer, but we're in one of those spells where we're lucky to go hours between fits. I don't always handle it well, and we seem to know how to push each other's buttons.

While I'm sure the advent of her sister is an element of the emotional mix, Juliette has yet to give Genevieve so much as a wayward glance. She absolutely adores the baby. This afternoon, in between kite flying at the park and ballet class, we were sitting on the front steps eating granola bars. I was holding Genevieve in my lap, and Juliette scootched over to us, pressed her cheek against mine, put one arm around my neck and one arm around the baby, and cooed, "Oh, Genevieve, we love you so much!"

We're trying really hard to give her the skills she needs to handle the big emotions she inherited from her parents. If we succeed, I think she's going to be a person of significant emotional intelligence and depth. And embodiment. She already has a charming maturity about her displays of affection; she pats me on the arm like a grandmother sometimes. She requires a lot of snuggling, which is no surprise, since she didn't ever want to be set down as a baby. She regularly asks for "mama time" after dinner - to sit on my lap and cuddle - and her worst temper tantrums don't end until she curls herself into my lap.

And the gratitude. If she hears the postman deliver the mail, she'll dash over to the screen door, fling it open, and shout "Thank you!!"

I worry that it's off-putting to gush about my kid like this. I know every parent thinks their kid is exceptional, as well they should. Every kid is exceptional, in his or her own way. The fun part is paying attention to what makes them so.

Like that morning a few weeks ago when Juliette showed up in our bedroom at five, crawled under the covers, asked if the dishes in the dishwasher were clean, and promptly fell asleep. She's exceptional all, right. Exceptionally weird.

Now is Now

2011-09-05T22:29:00.000-05:00

My last blog post began with the observation that I was one-third of the way through my maternity leave.

And now: two-thirds.

If the calendar can't convince me, the temperature will. It's chilly enough to close the windows tonight. And Juliette starts preschool tomorrow. Summer is almost over.

The last month has been a whirlwind of activity. I'm kicking myself for not making the time to write things down, but the whirlwind just went so quickly. We entertained friends, visited with grandparents, read books, fed the ice cream maker (and, in turn, ourselves) an entire gallon of heavy cream, washed diapers, harvested tomatoes, hung out with neighbors, visited the zoo, took train trips to the city, hosted houseguests (five Dillows for one night, and one Lara for five nights), and put the already outgrown newborn clothes away. Oh, and the girls and I took an entirely unplanned road trip to Ohio, where all the cousins on the Willis side were united. (You can't really say reunited, as two of them didn't exist the last time we were all in my parents' backyard.) Then, just when I thought things might start slowing down, I received my book manuscript from Chalice and have been stealing moments here and there to work on revisions.

I may not have captured all the details before they faded away, but I take solace in the knowledge that I have been deeply present during this season, and so grateful for the gifts of time, food, friends, and family. Several times I've thought of this passage by Laura Ingalls Wilder:

"When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, "What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?"
"They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said. "Go to sleep, now."
But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods,…
She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago."

Now is now.

Genevieve at one month old, in my Pa's lap

Ten on Tuesday

2011-08-08T19:21:00.009-05:00

1.What can I say? I just have a lot to write about these days. And, well, I'm a third of a way into this wonderful stretch of maternity leave. I'm feeling a little bit like a stay-at-home-mama, and really enjoying it. Which isn't to say I won't be ready and happy to go back to work when the time comes. Just that this is nice. Really nice.

2. We went to church on Sunday. Juliette learned about Namaan during Sunday School, and Genevieve slept in my arms throughout the whole service. When I received communion, I touched the bread to her lips before I ate it, and kissed her on the forehead after I drank the juice. Welcome to the table, little one.

3. I love cloth diapers; there's just something so sweet about wrapping a clean rectangle of cotton around a baby's bum. We unsuccessfully tried to use borrowed all-in-ones for the early newborn days, but we had a lot of leaks and a hard time getting the nubby fabrics clean. So we're back with cheap, simple prefolds and proraps. And man, the nifty washable bag for dirty diapers makes laundry even easier. If you're on the market for diapers, I highly recommend ordering from Dy-Dee, the diaper service we briefly used in California. Their diapers and wraps are way cheaper than most.

4. How about some *riveting* footage of a sleeping newborn? You have to turn up your sound to get the full effect.

5. I love summertime meals. Juliette and I brought our plates out to our new front steps yesterday.The blurry light green stuff on my plate is a salad of local cabbage, a cucumber from a friend's garden, a can of garbanzo beans, and a dressing of olive oil, lemon, and garlic. It's a variation of a Molly Wizenberg recipe, and super yummy.

6. I've been using cloth napkins since I moved in with Lisa in 2001, and only just thought of a solution to the Which Napkin Was Mine Again? conundrum: napkin rings. Now we can reuse our still-clean-enough napkins without wondering if those were our toast crumbs. Those were the least gaudy napkin rings at Pier One, where the napkin rings spectrum goes from Gaudy to Super Special Extreme Gaudy with Sequins On Top.

7. During my last back outtage, I got a massage at the local chain. I signed up for the discount monthly plan, which means that for the next year I will get one massage a month. Given my history of back issues, I'm feeling like it's high time I start getting proactive. I will be counting down the days until the 28th, when I'm eligible for my next massage.

8. We had a locksmith come by today to add a deadbolt, and he was so good with Juliette, who peppered him with a zillion questions. He told her how great it was she asked questions, how lucky she was to have a sister, how she could be a locksmith if she wanted to when she grows up, and how she was so smart she might also think about being a doctor or lawyer. (This, after we'd been at the park earlier and I overheard a mother chide her son for wanting to play with Juliette's doll stroller, "Boys don't play with strollers!") As it turns out, the friendly locksmith has five daughters of his own, two of whom grew up to be farmers who drive big tractors and know how to weld. This man clearly knows how to empower girls.

9. Best ice cream recipe yet: mix 2/3 cup sugar with 1 cup peanut butter. Add one cup whole milk, one cup heavy cream, and one teaspoon vanilla. Pour it into the ice cream maker and run until it's frozen. I seriously said "wow" after every single bite. (I just found out that they sell heavy cream in bulk at Costco. Never thought I'd be the sort of person to buy heavy cream in bulk. And now we know why they were selling the ice cream makers for so cheap!)

10. I was interviewed in the most recent issue of the Christian Century. I'm really pleased with how it turned out; I got to give props to many of the people and organizations that have been so important to my ministry. And, I nearly had a conniption when I read another article in the same issue, about the recent Wild Goose Festival - it quotes Karin Bergquist from Over the Rhine. As if it weren't enough to be in my favorite magazine, to be in my favorite magazine with my favorite band!

The Big Kid, the Baby, and the Book

2011-08-07T16:46:00.005-05:00

Other than the recounting of our jaunt with jaundice (gee, what a phrase!), things have been peachy around here. On my blog, and "in real life," as they say.

To say that things weren't entirely peachy in the first weeks of Juliette's life is an understatement. She was lovely - don't get me wrong. Yes, she screamed. (A lot.) She didn't sleep. (At all.) She has, in every way, been a marvel in our lives, from day one to day one thousand.

Though you might not have detected it from the fairly cheerful blog posts I kept up during that era, I was kind of a train wreck.

Motherhood hit me hard. In retrospect, I was clearly experiencing postpartum depression. I was obsessed with what went wrong during Juliette's birth, just profoundly disappointed that I hadn't had the beautiful childbirth experience I'd hoped for. Nursing was painful and frustrating. My anxiety that something could happen to the baby was debilitating. When my back went out, I plumb near lost my mind. I remember bawling my eyes out for what seemed like hours, bewildered by how much pain I was in, how foreign my body looked and felt, how much I loved and feared the child at my breast, how I was convinced that I would never recognize my life or my self again.

This time, I made ice cream on the second day home from the hospital. Ice cream! I did the dishes while I was in labor. I threw my back out again, as I dreaded but expected, because when my three-year-old landed head first on a hard tile floor, nothing in the whole wide world could have stopped me from scooping her into my arms.

The fact is this: I don't recognize my life or self anymore. This motherhood gig has changed me in such profound ways my pre-parenting persona would just stand there dumbfounded if she happened to encounter the mother of Juliette and Genevieve.

(Conversely, I wouldn't step foot in my college apartment kitchen; my younger self barely washed dishes at all, let alone in between bursts of pain.)

That feeling I had that my life was over wasn't entirely false. Life as I knew it was over, and thank God for that. In the three and a half years since Juliette's birth, I've lurched and lunged into an infinitely more fulfilling existence. And I don't just mean the emergence of my latent domestic side or even the expansion of my capacity to take care of others, though those are significant. My marriage, which once seemed plagued with a sickness unto death, was restored to a far greater health than we had ever known. My faith, which once sounded like a hollow wall if you knocked on it, crumbled, and on those broken pieces a lasting foundation was finally constructed.

Oh, and: I wrote a book about it.

I've been a little panicky about the publication of Any Day a Beautiful Change: A Story of Faith and Family. Though the book shares the same name as my blog, it's not a repackaging of blog posts. The manuscript addresses stuff I haven't touched on the internet. I'm not used to feeling so vulnerable. But in these last few weeks, I've thought about the book quite a bit, and it dawned on me: that book is partially why I'm doing so well right now. It put the hard-learned lessons and God-given graces into writing. I can't forsake the changes or deny the truth; I have written proof.

There's a distinction I want to make. The process of writing is therapeutic to many people. I won't go so far as to say that writing isn't therapeutic for me. It is, though the healing factor is abated by how hard I work to string words together, and how keenly aware of the audience those strings of words might reach. (There's a reason I'm a blogger, not a keeper of private journals.)

Here's the distinction: what seems so helpful to me all of a sudden about the book I wrote last year isn't that I wrote it; it's what I wrote. There are observations about childbirth that help me chill out when - once again - things didn't go exactly as I'd hoped. There are reflections about anxiety that remind me to Be Still and Know That God Is God. And last night, when lack of sleep and stress were starting to wear away at our capacity to love one another well, a soon-to-be-published manuscript compelled me to walk downstairs and apologize.

If what I wrote about the beautiful changes in my life - in our lives - continues to help me... maybe it will help other people, too.

That would be great. Downright peachy, in fact.

~ ~ ~

How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news,
who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’ (Isaiah 52:7)

A Tale of Two Blankets

2011-08-06T16:40:00.004-05:00

There's nothing quite like a blanket homemade by someone who loves you.

This week, Genevieve was the lucky recipient of two extremely special blankets.

The first came from Florida. My grandmother - who was a serious professional knitter in her day - knit it, and my Aunt Dee Dee sent it along. It's just lovely.
And then the second one follows in the tradition of Juliette's Nikki McClure-themed quilt, and was made by our friends from SBCC, Karen and her niece Codyanne.

(It is totally fitting that Genevieve's quilt is inspired by Awake to Nap, because she actually sleeps.)
Oh, Genevieve Love... you are loved.

About Borders

2011-08-05T22:26:00.002-05:00

This morning the Pershey girls spent an hour or so at Borders. (We also went to the pediatrician, car wash, and grocery store. I was proud of all three of us for handling all those errands so swimmingly.) I'm sad about Borders closing down, though I've always been fairly ambivalent about it, having been sad about the bookstores Borders helped run out of business.

A few thoughts... Jumbled, as usual:

My family was entranced by Borders when the first one near us opened. It was far enough away that we didn't go often, but when we did it was a total Event. I remember reading all of Weetzie Bat by Francesca Lia Block at Borders, probably when I was about 12 years old, and being amazed that no one was stopping me.

One of the reasons I took the girls to Borders today was that I thought it would be a good place to nurse Genevieve. You know, on account all those comfy chairs they put out to enable people to read the merchandise. The chairs had been removed. Borders as a destination, a hangout, is already gone.

Ben and I went to Borders the night Deacon died, because we couldn't bear to be in the house. Milling about the books was exactly what we needed.

The saddest part was seeing all the employees dutifully reorganizing the shrinking inventory. By all accounts, people liked working at Borders. And even those that didn't, now they are losing their jobs, and in the interim have to put up with all these bargain shoppers trolling the 30% off racks.

I have never, in the many years I've been purchasing books from Amazon, seen nor spoken to an Amazon employee.

When I paid for our selections, I stopped myself from saying anything to the woman at the counter, beyond the usual niceties. I would imagine she has heard the earnest lamentations of far too many customers.

I bought several children's books for gifts, as well as two books for myself: The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure, and I Is an Other by James Geary. The first is all Little House on the Prairie geekery, and the second is about the way metaphor influences the way we think and function. I had heard of one, thanks to Goodreads, but probably wouldn't have happened upon the other without perusing the shelves of the local bookstore.

Which we no longer have.

Unlikely to Forget: Jaundice

2011-08-01T20:43:00.005-05:00

At first I was afraid to say it out loud, thinking it would immediately jinx the situation. But it's true, at least this far: the transition from one to two children has been infinitely easier than the transition from none to one. Our parental temperaments are completely different this time around, and Juliette's temperament - which was, let's face it, a little tough as a baby - has been downright extraordinary.

That said, we've had two issues that are totally minor in the grand scheme of issues. I'm still recovering from my back pain, but before that there was the jaundice.

Genevieve's bilirubin count was high the second night of our hospital stay. By morning, it was high enough to merit twenty-four hours under the phototherapy lights. Upon hearing this news I cried, of course. It's just not what you want to hear. You don't want anything to be wrong, not even some little thing that can be fixed by fancy lightbulbs. And you want to go home. Like crazy.

Just the thought of her having to be in the nursery did me in. I swear, the whole time we were at the hospital I practically had to fight off the nurses who would come and try to convince me she should be wheeled off to the nursery. This child has been living inside of me for nine months; how can I just blithely wave goodbye for a few hours? But when she started her phototherapy, I only got 30 minutes with her every two hours, just long enough to nurse. I intentionally did not take a picture of her in the incubator, wearing the protective foam sunglasses. I didn't want to remember it, though I do.

So there was an initial upset that we had to stay, but it was clear fairly quickly that jaundice is common and the lights weren't terrible, and again, in the grand scheme of things, all was well.

And then I had to be discharged.

They explained that I could stay at the hospital, just not on the busy maternity floor. A nurse wheeled me down to my new room, in a bustling recovery unit. It was loud. But not just normal loud. More like: oh, there's a hospital renovation construction zone on the other side of my window loud. Really, really loud. But, whatever, they'll pack up and leave at five, right?

I immediately headed back up to the maternity ward, so I could sit vigil by the incubator until it was time to nurse Genevieve again. Only, the elevator we'd taken to the new floor inexplicably required a security clearance. I asked the lady at the desk, and she pointed me down the hall - way down the hall - to the guest elevator. The one we'd taken was for medical personnel only. (Not that anyone told me that; I hadn't realized it was my responsibility to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back out of the woods.) I started walking, which, you may recall, isn't the most comfortable activity for a woman who's only just given birth to an eight and a half pound baby less than forty-eight hours before.

Halfway to the elevator - I'm really not kidding, it was a long way away - the postpartum hormones kicked in. I tried to compose myself in a bathroom, but all I could think was: how am I going to do this every two hours, all night long? By the time I was buzzed in to the maternity ward, I was a weepy wreck. I solemnly promise that I did not intend to make a scene, but I'm happy to report that it worked. They let me move back into my room on the maternity floor, with the understanding that if a lot of babies were born I might be ousted in the night.

So: happy ending. I was near enough to nurse as often as she needed without having anymore nervous breakdowns, and we went home in the morning.

And here's Genevieve, perfectly pale at two weeks old. I didn't realize how much the bilirubin had discolored her skin until it fully cleared up.So grateful, so blessed.

Before I Forget, Part II

2011-07-31T21:37:00.005-05:00

I'd meant to ask Ben to call me when they were on the way to the maternity ward. Several people told me how important it is to not have the baby in your arms when the big sibling comes into the hospital room; that way they can hug you and/or not feel replaced. As it turns out, Genevieve actually deigns to be set down every once in a while - unlike her sister before her, who pretty much screamed bloody murder any time we dared set her in the bassinet. But my open arms were irrelevant. Juliette only had eyes for the baby."Mama, she's so nice!"She said this over and over again. She's so nice. We told her the name - and hearing Juliette repeat Genevieve made me all weepy.We set Juliette up with the pillows to hold the baby, a task she approached with great care, enthusiasm, and tenderness. And, well, possessiveness. Poor Grandma had waited patiently for her turn to hold the baby, and when she finally went to take her turn, Juliette said, "Don't touch her! She's my baby!"And that's how it's been, from the start. She speaks of Genevieve as my baby, our baby. It won't always be that way. The novelty will wear off. There will be jealousy at some point, and rivalry. There will be spats over toys, and eventually clothes. But these girls have had a wonderful start to their relationship.I'll have to post the footage of Juliette singing the song we made up:
Juliette and Genevieve are sisters
Juliette and Genevieve are sisters
Juliette loves Genevieve
and Genevieve loves Juliette
'Cause Juliette and Genevieve are sistersIt is strange, but lovely, to have known one of my daughters for three-and-half years, and the other for two weeks.Love.

Interlude: Help Heartline

2011-07-29T12:50:00.002-05:00

I wanted to continue the story, before I forget. But the same back pain that descended upon me after Juliette's birth settled in a few days ago, and I'm not quite functional again yet.

So, in the meantime: an interlude, and request. For all my frustrations with medicalized childbirth, I'm extremely grateful to have given birth in a safe and clean environment. Childbirth can be dangerous for mamas and babies, a fact that is easy for us to forget in our cushy labor and delivery units.

Heather Hendrick, the brilliant and funny blogger I wrote about for the Christian Century blog, is returning to Haiti after a summer in Texas to continue working with Heartline Ministries. Among other things, Heartline helps women by providing pre-natal, maternity, and breastfeeding support. They are currently raising funds to build a maternity center. You can read about the plans here, or you can just go straight to this grant site and cast your vote to fund their incredibly important mission.

You don't even have to register for the site; just click/click. That simple. But you might also try click/click/give, or click/click/pray. I hear that helps, too.

Before I Forget, Part One

2011-07-26T20:59:00.004-05:00

There's so much I want to remember about Genevieve's first hours and days, and my primary mode of memory is writing. And I've barely written a word. Pardon me if this is a jumbled, rambling mess; this is the archive.

I said it would be the 17th all along, though that was partially just an attempt at reverse psychology. By the time the 17th actually rolled around, I was mighty antsy. The last days of a pregnancy are slow like molasses, and the prospect of having to be induced did not appeal. So, after walking to and from church, I decided to get serious. A couple weeks ago I peeked behind our garage for the first time to discover a strip of ugly weeds. Weeds we never see, but that lined the meticulously-kept backyard of our neighbors. I decided that I was going to weed my way into labor. With help from my mom, we cleared out the whole patch in a half an hour. It was the beginning of the heat wave, but thankfully we were in the shade of the garage. Shortly after I cleaned up, the power went out. We'd been expecting it, what with the three ComEd trucks in front of our house. My mom and Juliette and I set up chairs in the front lawn to watch the workers fix the line. Around 4:00pm I started to feel a teensy bit of pain with the contractions I'd been having for weeks. By the time I went in to make dinner for everyone, it was more than a teensy bit of pain. Still, I made dinner, did the dishes, took out the compost, and otherwise continued with all my ordinary domestic activities. Then I repacked my bag, which had slowly gotten unpacked over the course of the many weeks it wasn't needed. I just kept going, and I have to say that those first few hours of labor were actually quite lovely. There's a story in Birthing from Within about an Amish woman who was painting her rocking chair when the midwife arrived to deliver her baby. The midwife assumed the woman was probably dilated just three or four centimeters. She was nine, and just about ready to push.

I took a moment to go into Juliette's room and look at her sleeping, and take in her last night of being our only child.

When we left for the hospital at nine 'o clock, I thought we were heading out a little early. On the way over I even sang along heartily to that new Taylor Swift song I can never get out of my head ("Why you gotta be so mean?") I really wanted the majority of my labor to be worked out at home. As it turns out, it was time: I was six centimeters.

By the time they got us into the labor and delivery room, I wasn't singing pop country songs or cheerfully offering to do the dishes. When I wrote about labor with Juliette, I referred to "a few moments that were frightening and unpleasant." That was probably an understatement. This time, there were more or less two hours that were frightening and unpleasant. Or, more precisely: excruciatingly painful. I was a little on the fence about an epidural this time; I was super grateful to have had one with Juliette since it was entirely back labor, and felt like the decision to have the epidural against my original intentions was an extremely good one. This time, the decision to get one was a huge mistake. They made Ben leave, and only told me that he would have to leave right when they were ready to do it (he didn't have to leave with Juliette). What had been a quick and relatively painless procedure last time was long and awful and smack dab in the middle of transition. I swear the anesthesiologist must have tried twelve times to get the thing in properly. And as it turns out, it wasn't in properly. It only worked on my right side, which is to say it was a total waste. One might think that half an epidural means half as much pain, but it doesn't work that way. Fortunately, it was time to push almost immediately after Ben was allowed back in the room. The time frame makes me even more frustrated, because if I'd known it was going to be so quick, I think I would have powered through sans-drugs. Especially since the drugs were not a peanut butter sundae this time.

But this is the part of the story where all of that becomes water under the bridge. Because this is the part of the story where all of my weaknesses and disappointments and frustrations about my childbirth experiences - and even the excruciating pain itself - are displaced by the sound of a newborn's first cry.

Genevieve Laverne.

I couldn't stop asking if she was okay. She was.

Juliette emerged wide-eyed and screaming. Genevieve was quiet. Easily comforted. Sleepy.

After the basics were attended to, the nurses and doctor left the three of us in the room, blessedly alone. The beauty of the second time around: I knew how to nurse her. And like her sister, she knew how to nurse.

Breastfeeding is my favorite and my best. Breastfeeding is my thing. Maybe what I lack in the capacity to handle the pain of childbirth gracefully I make up for in my unwavering love for making milk.

Juliette meeting Genevieve deserves a post all its own.

Genevieve Laverne

2011-07-24T21:18:00.003-05:00

...is here, and a truly lovely baby. Much more soon, but at the very least I wanted to update the basics. After all, she's already a whole week old.

born July 17th at 11:39pm
8lb, 8oz
extremely proud big sisterI realized the other day that a wonderful pet name for Genevieve Laverne is Genevieve Love. And love her we do.

31/9

2011-07-11T21:34:00.003-05:00

We celebrated our anniversary and my birthday tonight, since I might be having a baby on the actual date (July 13th). Lucky us, the uber-fancy restaurant in town was participating in Yelp's 1/2 off restaurant week. We had a feast.

Thirty-one years old, nine years of marriage... and I'm pretty sure this was the happiest one yet.

Nesting

2011-07-07T19:53:00.006-05:00

Moving into a new house + preparing for a new baby = Mondo Nesting Extravaganza.

We don't have much by way of foyer space, and if I don't have specific places to put things when I enter the house, it's one big cluttery disaster. So, we needed organizational solutions(!!!). As it turns out, I have been hiding a latent organizational solutions(!!!) gene. Behold:The shoe bench is crucial. Almost as crucial as the mail spot. When we enter the house, we can dump our shoes in this handy bench. At least, when they aren't snow-covered boots.

I was originally thinking we'd have a mail/keys/etc. spot in the dining room, but then we happened upon this aesthetically and functionally perfect bureau at good ole TJ Maxx. To be completely honest, it was a little over budget. I'm usually the naysayer about not-entirely-necessary purchases, but I lobbied hard. I figure that we're going to be here for a long time, and my general happiness level is remarkably dependent on my general clutter level. It even has his and hers sides - organizational solution(!!!).

Don't mind the Over the Rhine poster that has not yet been hung in what will be the Over the Rhine-themed dining room. Two records and two Clinton Reno posters will eventually be on display.Poor guy, just trying to eat his watermelon. And don't mind the wrinkly tablecloth; I don't. Life is too short to iron tablecloths, eh?

Moving on up the stairs...
We asked the previous owners to leave the nails in the walls because I wanted to have our pictures hung before 2014.

Here, I'll help you get your bearings. This is what you see from the landing on the stairs:Hello, shoe bench and little green cabinet of organizational solutions(!!!). Thanks for holding down the fort.

Oh, about that railing. Totally not safe for kiddos. I mean, you could probably shove an entire side of beef through those gaping holes. But if you look closely you can see that the previous owners sealed it off to the floor with a handy transparent barrier. It may not be the classiest trick, but safety solutions(!!!) are even more important than their organizational cousins.

Alrighty. This is the entrance to the back bedroom, from inside the bedroom.Built-ins. Be still my heart.

This is our poetry collection.In addition to being the guest and reading room, this is where the rocking chair fits, so it may also be the nursing room.It has a pretty view of the backyard.It also has an entrance onto the flat roof, which does not have a safety railing. Whoa, nelly. We didn't like that, and the insurance company really didn't like that. While we'd eventually like to turn it into a second floor porch, for the time being we'll be adding a deadbolt to the two locks that are currently in place.

I really love our house.

Scratch That

2011-07-07T15:56:00.002-05:00

You know everything I said here?

Scratch that. I'm ready to have this baby already.

Waiting (Patiently) for Baby

2011-07-04T13:49:00.003-05:00

If you read my blog in January 2008, you might remember that I was wildly impatient about Juliette's arrival. I was convinced she was coming early, so she felt tardy even before her due date. When she showed up about a week late, I was close to losing my mind. That was in part because I'd started my maternity leave too early, and so was scheduled to return to work four weeks from her birth day (my church gave me an extra week). I was also physically uncomfortable; I remember my hips ached terribly. And emotionally I was a big anxious mess.

This time around, I'm feeling remarkably patient. Even with the heat and humidity, I'm not remotely as big and uncomfortable as I was last time. There will certainly be a learning curve for baby #2, but I'm not experiencing the same abject fear about becoming a mother. I'm actually sort of trying to honor and enjoy these last few days of having an only child. And, since I have twelve glorious weeks of maternity leave, it will be perfectly okay to spend the first two resting and nesting. If that's the case, I'll still have twice as long as I did last time to recuperate.

So, I'm going into this one with patience and gratitude and confidence. Which is lovely, though probably not as fun as impatient haikus and limericks.

The due date is July 12th. Ben and Juliette both independently guessed July 5th. I'm saying July 17th - especially since, like Juliette, this one dropped really low but recently popped back up again. We'll keep you posted...

House Love

2011-07-02T20:06:00.004-05:00

Two things happened this week to increase my love for this house exponentially. First, we have a new roof. We decided to go with green, to offset the brick work. Here's a shot of the back of the house, which is just so charming I can hardly bear it.I had assumed that the room on stilts is an addition, but it's original. (Thankfully, it's not solely dependent on stilts, but rests on the attached garage.) It's the extra bedroom/ reading room with the built in bookshelves. I haven't gotten a good photograph of them yet. The poetry and young adult books are shelved there.

So this morning, a woman who grew up in the house stopped by with her husband. I recognized her name; I'd heard about the family who had lived here for many, many years. Her mother was a teacher at the local elementary school. They were really nice and grateful that I was willing to let them come in and take a tour. I think it was just as cool for me as it was for her; we got to hear about the way the house used to be before the renovations - I learned all about the breakfast nook that's been replaced by a pantry, the indoor/outdoor green carpet in the kitchen, the wood paneling in the dining room, where they kept their linens in the linen closet-free house. But the very coolest part was when she introduced herself to Juliette, and asked her how old she was, and they talked about how they both moved into this house at age three. She was thrilled that a family is here; I'm pretty sure the whole visit made her day. I sent her on her way with a photo of her in front of the house, taken under the condition that when she shows it to her mother she has to pass along our promise to fix the steps.

Julietteisms

2011-07-01T11:05:00.003-05:00

Juliette has said some funny things lately that I don't want to forget.

1. She went to the dentist last week for the first time. It was a really, really good experience - she was super excited to be there and get her teeth cleaned, and the only traumatic part was when she tasted the mint on the dental floss. (I'm fairly sure Juliette's two least favorite things in the world are mint and movie theaters.) So, we went to the bathroom as soon as we got to the dentist's office. She asked, "Do I have to pee in a cup?" Why yes, Juliette has accompanied me to the OB.

2. We went to the village hymn sing last Sunday night, which was followed by an ice cream social. After consuming chocolate ice cream, Juliette got a little hyper. She was running around the water tower with friends, hooting and hollering like you wouldn't believe. I was in the middle of a conversation with someone when she raced up to me and shouted "Mama! I'm acting CRAZY!!!" Indeed.

3. We were in the front yard the other day and one of the friendly neighborhood girls waved as she passed. Juliette turned to me and said, "Mama, she's so beautiful. I love her." She also stopped walking on the way home from church a couple weeks ago, gasped at some flowers, and exclaimed, "These flowers are GORGEOUS!!"

4. We take turns saying grace before dinner, and Juliette is always an eager volunteer. Her prayers tend to be fairly comprehensive and not at all self-conscious. She recently prayed something to the effect of: "Thank you for eating our dinner, and eating our lunch, and our friends... wait, we don't eat our friends!! And thank you for everything. Amen." Glad we cleared that up.

1989, 2011

2011-06-28T18:36:00.003-05:00

We met for lunch again. And this time I remembered my camera. :)

It Takes a Village

2011-06-22T22:25:00.005-05:00

Last Friday - my first full Friday off in a long time - I joined a group of moms and kids from church on a fairly high-effort outing to the city to catch a Wiggleworms show at Millennium Park. Most of us took the train, and decided it would be easier to huff it to the park from Union Station rather than cram five strollers and eleven children onto a city bus. The trip was a smashing success, as far as I'm concerned; we had fun, and everyone was accounted for at the end of the day. One of the biggest factors in the smooth sailing was the ease with which the various mothers care for each others' kids. There was a lot of "Okay, you've got so-and-so" and "She's with me, we'll meet you by the elevators." And, when Juliette started having a meltdown on the ride home, one of the other mamas swooped in with an exceedingly helpful intervention that effectively terminated what could have been a full-fledged fit on a full train car.

We had a really tough morning today. The new school thing is still iffy, and Juliette had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I spent a good twenty minutes in the school parking lot, helpless to stop the full-fledged fit unfolding in the Honda Fit. Instead of hoping we wouldn't see anyone we know, I found myself sort of wishing one of those other mamas would happen by.

I think that's one measure of a healthy parenting village, don't you?

Ten on Tuesday

2011-06-21T17:16:00.003-05:00

1. We're officially full term. I'm actually feeling really good, a million times better than I did a month ago. The two biggest factors in the turnaround: being mostly moved in, and getting back to the pool a couple times a week. Oh, how I love to swim.

2. I've also been mowing the lawn with our push reel mower. I can tell that half the people walking by think I'm crazy - the general perception is that the lack of motor means that it's harder work. But the mower is so light it's a great, gentle workout. I'm holding out hope that that the push reel mower revolution is growing. Our mailman stopped by while I was out the other day, complimented our mower selection, and said how glad he is that he's seeing more and more out in the neighborhoods.

3. Juliette just brought me a photo of our wedding day. "Mama, look it! You got married!"

4. I've downloaded some really good music from Noisetrade recently, especially this one by the Civil Wars. Sometimes live albums aren't the best introduction to a new band, but this is a great recording.

5. We are now in possession of an ice cream maker. I cannot wait to get started. It was only $30 at Costco and highly recommended by a friend, and I'm thinking we're going to get some pretty good use out of it.

6. Juliette is doing the reading program at the library this summer. She reads so much these days - by herself and with us - it feels funny to suddenly add prizes to the mix; she really doesn't need the incentive of free pizzas and silly bands. Might as well reap the rewards, though, even if she'd be doing it anyway.

7. I had a great pastoral care moment today. I was talking to a woman whose elderly husband has taken off on a great bucket list adventure. I exclaimed that he was really "plucky" to do so. She was so enamored of that description that she wrote it down and said that's how she's going to refer to it from now on, instead of the other slightly-less-than-supportive ways she could refer to it. It made me feel so confirmed in my call, like: yes, there is a place for a lover of words in pastoral ministry, and not just in the pulpit. And likewise confirmed in my belief that the right words can be a gift.

8. We didn't think we were going to swing a garden this year, but last week we were gifted a wagon full of tomato plants. So we bartered with our neighbors - a raised bed box for a night of babysitting. And now it sounds like we're going to pick up a few more plants as our industrious gardener friends are culling their overgrown beds. Looks like we'll have a harvest after all!

9. I started a blog at the local Patch site; my hope is that it will be a place for locally-flavored ruminations on faith and spirituality. My first post was about the prayer flags at church.

10. The new Nikki McClure book is delightful.

Review: Ultimate Allegiance by Robert D. Cornwall

2011-06-15T10:36:00.002-05:00

I was lucky enough to receive a review copy of Ultimate Allegiance: The Subversive Nature of the Lord's Prayer by Robert D. Cornwall - or Bob, as I know him from our days as colleagues in the Pacific Southwest Region of the CC(DoC). Bob's blog has always been an exemplar of the "blogging pastor" genre; he is a prolific and thoughtful writer who addresses all kinds of important cultural and theological issues. (Meanwhile, I blog about my pregnant lady heartburn. There's room for everyone on the internet, right?) Needless to say, I was excited to read his new book.

Bob reveals in the preface that the genesis of the book was actually a six-part Lenten sermon series addressing each of the petitions of the Lord's Prayer. Still, the chapters did not read like sermons. This is not just a hastily dashed together sermon collection reprinted in book form, but a well-organized, lucidly written, and in-depth study of scripture. I loved knowing that the book originated as a sermon series, because it highlights what I think is one of the book's overriding strengths: it is as deeply pastoral as it is scholarly. It engages the scriptures associated with the Lord's Prayer with both exegetical and practical attention, and is actually quite conversant in the whole of the Bible, drawing from a host of passages to place the prayer in scriptural context.

It isn't always easy to find materials to use in the church that are theologically sound and accessible. Jason Byassee has a blurb on the back cover, and I concur wholeheartedly with his sentiment: "It's a beautiful thing to watch a pastor teaching her or his people with wisdom and grace." This is the kind of book that empowers other pastors to do the same. One minor disappointment was the lack of study questions at the end of the chapters; I can see this as being a good resource for a bible study at church, and that's always a nice addition. But I guess I shouldn't make Bob do all of my homework. And besides, I'm betting his other book published by Energion, Ephesians: A Participatory Study, does have the bonus of discussion questions.

A few things I wrote in the margins:

author takes the gendered language issue seriously but without losing perspective
he doesn't tame the prayer - allows it to be as radical as it is, even as he puts it in conversation with politics, culture, history, biblical criticism
starred passage: "God's name is made holy, not just in our words, but in our very lives."
starred passage: "The way of deliverance involves our committing our lives and futures into the hands of the good and gracious God revealed to us in Jesus Christ." This is in the midst of a nuanced discussion of what kind of evil we're asking to be delivered from.
starred passage: "This prayer becomes culturally and socially subversive when it becomes the foundation for discernment."
starred passage: "Jesus may very well have told his audience to give to Caesar that which is Caesar's, but what belongs to Caesar does not include our ultimate allegiance."
loved the definition of the kingdom: "The kingdom of God is visible, but it isn't one and the same with any human government or society. It is instead a parallel culture, where those who embrace kingdom values live life differently."

That notion of the kingdom of God as a parallel culture really struck me. At first glance it seems that "culture" is a fairly weak element, but it really isn't. Culture is huge. It is often the thing in which we unthinkingly live and move and have our being.

Highly recommended! Thanks for the chance to read your work, Bob.

Ten on Tuesday: Monday Night Heartburn Edition

2011-06-14T00:16:00.002-05:00

1. This is the Monday Night Heartburn Edition because, you guessed it, my pregnant lady heartburn is keeping me up past midnight. I don't have this particular symptom very often, but when it hits, it hits hard.

2. Juliette seemed totally content when I picked her up from school this afternoon. Apparently, the only time she got upset was when she was the only kid without a toothbrush after lunch; her other school didn't brush teeth midday. Problem solved with a quick after school trip to Target for a new Dora toothbrush. That said, I was less than thrilled to discover that because the administration hadn't transferred her files yet, they didn't have any contact or medical information on hand all day. Grr.

3. First day of school, last day of school.Her shirt doesn't say "Bye Bye Butt," by the way. I accidentally cropped out the "erfly."

4. There was a Groupon for Blurb this week. (That sentence sounds like a bunch of gibberish.) I printed the first two volumes of my blog way back in 2009; the second one ended just before I announced my first pregnancy. I have a lot of catching up to do. I started on the next one tonight. If you aren't familiar with Blurb, it "slurps" your blog into a very easy to edit book format, photos and all.

5. We saw Water for Elephants on Saturday. The book was a solid three stars for me, and I probably liked the movie even more. Even if the kid from Twilight is kind of an awkward actor. I feel like that's a Keanu Reeves All Over Again kind of situation.

6. We'll have a new roof within the next week, and new front steps by the end of next month. I wish the steps could be done sooner. Preferably yesterday. I've already tripped on them once and they get worse every day. I may have subconsciously thrust my baby belly out a little further when the contractor came over with the contract. Okay, consciously. But it didn't make any difference - the spring has been terrible for construction and they're booked. I suppose it is fairer to complete jobs in order of contracts signed, anyway...

7. I've been reading a great study about the Lord's Prayer by my Disciple colleague Bob Cornwall... review to follow by the end of the week.

8. Our yard has beautiful landscaping. I need to get some photos of the explosive pink rose bushes, and within a few days the hydrangea bushes are going to go wild. I'm still a little sad that we didn't get a proper garden planted. It looks like one of two pie pumpkin seeds Juliette and I planted has a sturdy sprout, but I accidentally mowed over the one sunflower that escaped the birds' appetite. I did pick up two pitiful looking seedlings on clearance at the grocery store today... will be interesting to see if Charlie Brown Strawberry Plant and Charlie Brown Tomato Plant thrive.

9. Juliette took her first ballet class today (also compliments of a Groupon). I don't think there's anything cuter than a gaggle of three- and four-year-old girls prancing around in pink leotards. She loved it.

10. Heartburn, you can go away now. Really.

A Rare Rant

2011-06-13T08:44:00.002-05:00

I figure it's a blogger's prerogative to use her space to rant every so often. Consider yourself duly warned.

This morning - about thirty minutes ago - I dropped Juliette off at her new school. It's the fourth school she's attended in her life, and is the sister school to the one she has attended two days a week for the last year. She's always been a super social kid, so even though there have been some tough mornings here and there, she invariably reports that her favorite part of her day is the time she's spent at school.

This school, or collection of schools, is not my favorite. We loved her small and wonderful Montessori school in California, and consider ourselves incredibly blessed that she gets to attend the church preschool down the hall for a few more years. But we need an option for some full days and summertime, and this one she's been attending more or less fits the bill. We did decide, however, to switch her to the one in our town (as opposed to the one the next town over) because her classroom situation has been so chaotic and loud ever since she moved up to the three-year-old room. This one is also closer, within walking distance. We decided to make the switch now, when the school is transitioning into its summer program, and a month before the baby is slated to appear.

Okay, transitions are tough for three-year-olds. I fully expected Juliette to have a little difficulty getting her bearings this morning. But I also expected her new teacher to introduce herself and enthusiastically welcome Juliette into her new classroom. Maybe even introduce the other kids. We did arrive, after all, during the morning open playtime, not in the middle of a lesson. But that's not what happened. After bumbling around to find someone to let us past the security-coded door and to figure out which classroom she was supposed to be in, we entered the room with barely a glance and mumbled "hello" from the teacher. I had to ask her what her name was, because she just sort of nodded when I told her ours. She continued prepping paint for their mid-morning craft. I get it; you've got things to do to keep your classroom going. But don't you think it's in your best interest - let alone your new student's - to make the kid feel a little welcomed? I walked Juliette around the classroom and tried to help her meet the kids (some of whom were considerably more hospitable than their teacher). But I really can't blame her for clinging and repeatedly saying she didn't want to stay. I wouldn't have wanted to stay. I don't know if she cried after I left, but I sure did.

Miscellany

2011-06-09T15:04:00.006-05:00

1. I experienced two strong symptoms when the temperature passed the 90 degree mark: the misplacement of my ankle bones, and a fierce desire to chop my hair off. I probably won't see my ankle bones again until late July, but the hair is gone.
2. It's currently 54 degrees. It was in the mid 90s yesterday. Whatever, Illinois.

3. I love this picture of my ruggedly handsome husband, taken on the pedestrian bridge between Millennium Park and the Art Institute.
4. We took a quick trip to Ohio last week. One afternoon Juliette and I moseyed around Kent. It was fun and even a little surreal to explore my college town with my three-year-old. She loved the Cuyahoga River.
She took to our friend Maj immediately. This was taken about five minutes after they met (for the first time since she was a baby, that is).
Juliette loves her Grandpa.
And her Aunt Lisa, who was a really good sport about running all over the yard at the end of a long day.
Lisa's hidden talent is natural-materials millinery. Isn't this hat divine?
That was right before Lisa accused me of having the purse contents of a junior high girl. Who says 30-year-old professionals can't carry Grape Bubblicious and oversized Cherry Lipsmackers in their camera bags?

5. I'm slowly recovering from writing my book, and have published a couple pieces recently. I wrote about a completely inappropriate approach to remembering 9/11 in the Century Blog, and observed the one-year anniversary of having moved to Illinois in Fidelia's Sisters. We flew out of Long Beach to Chicago exactly one year ago today.

6. And finally, the lovely family photo our new friend Adam took.

Ten on Tuesday: Photo Edition

2011-05-31T21:01:00.005-05:00

This has not been a year of extensive photography. I noted on Facebook the other day that I need to get a photo of myself pregnant before I'm not pregnant anymore... to which a clever friend pondered, "How does one get a photo pregnant?" Har har. Fortunately it just so happened that we had a (lovely!) Memorial Day BBQ with an extremely talented photographer; unfortunately we didn't know that going in, so I was bereft of eyeliner (don't judge) and Ben had a bad case of hat hair. Oh well... at least we're keepin' it real. I can't wait to see the fruits of the photoshoot.

In the meantime, I have taken quite a few photos in the last few days. Here goes.

1. Ben and I spent the weekend in Chicago the week before last, thanks to the excellent childcare provided by my dear Mama. It was the first time we'd ever been away from Juliette at night, ever. And it went just fine. We had a great time in the city, though it was a lot of walking for a pregnant lady (we were car-free for the weekend). At one point we were taking a breather in the Member Lounge of the Art Institute, and I fell asleep for a little bit, as in: open-mouthed drooling public slumber. And when I woke up, obviously not fully awake, I said to Ben a little bit too loudly, "I'd like a cookie now." Because I'm, like, an adult.

But anyway, downtown Chicago is full of the most beautiful flower planters. These went on for nearly a whole block:
2. It never gets old. Never.
3. Oh, do I ever love our new kitchen, even if it does have funky lighting for food photography. You don't even want to know the unnatural tricks I played in iPhoto to make the spinach look remotely green.
4. I scandalized a lot of people on FB by gushing about my love of spinach in smoothies. A close up just for the apparent gross-out factor:Yum.

5. We set out for a walk around our new neighborhood after the big rain on Saturday. Ben is strategically placed in front of our embarrassingly decrepit front steps, and our aging roof is mercifully washed out. We're working on getting them fixed.
6. One of my great loves is the smell of the world after a good spring rain. And a girl who is so spunky she's even spunky from behind.
7. I meant to take a picture of Juliette with the pretty flowers behind her, but I couldn't help but lean in close for the full cuteness effect. What a cheese.
8. They really were pretty flowers. Does anyone know what this is?
9. We had a truly great Memorial Day. In addition to the aforementioned BBQ (which was, in fact, the eagerly-awaited follow-up to The Great Meat Pickup of 2011), we also attended the short but sweet Memorial Day Parade in Western Springs. I have to admit the best part was my relief that they didn't sound all the sirens when the police cars and fire trucks passed by. That, and the sight of Juliette and her friends delighting in every little thing. (Well, especially the candy.)
10. And then, last but not least, the best of the bunch. What more does a girl need than a pretty sundress, a pink ribbon, a basket of books, and the morning sun on her toes?

Congregational Resource Guide Podcast

2011-05-27T13:58:00.003-05:00

This week I participated in a round table podcast conversation hosted by the Congregational Resource Guide. (I was super nervous? And you can tell by the way I ended a lot of my sentences with an unnecessary question mark inflection?)

Listen to internet radio with CR Radio on Blog Talk Radio

The White Elephant

2011-05-26T14:23:00.006-05:00

There's this woman at church, Mary, whom everyone just adores. She's smart and funny and wise and generous. She's moving away at the end of next month, and we're all so sad about it.

Today she left us a housewarming gift on the doorknob of my church study: a white elephant. Literally. It's a little pitcher shaped like an elephant. The accompanying card explained that when her kids were little, she let them use it to pour their milk into their cereal.

We were so excited about it Juliette had to have granola for lunch.

Prayer Flags

2011-05-25T22:58:00.007-05:00

The Christian Ventures committee at my church organized a lovely all-church project this spring: prayer flags. For several weeks during Lent, members were able to write and draw on brightly-colored squares of cloth, which the committee members sewed into six strands of prayers and hung up for Palm Sunday.

They are gorgeous.

This is how they looked on Palm Sunday, with the magnolias all in bloom.My office window is just behind that bench, and it's been wonderful to see the flags blow in the wind, and to watch people stop and marvel beneath them.A thunderstorm knocked one of the strands down earlier this week, which gave me a chance to take a few close-ups.One of the intercessions requests "slow squirrels for my dog." It's just about everybody's favorite flag.

I think there is something deeply blessed about playing in the dirt beneath the shadow of a hundred prayers.I thought I'd lost all my copies, digital and otherwise, of Prayer Flags, a poem I wrote in 2003. I found it tonight.

In Provincetown, the flags stay up
through the June rains: strung like laundry
across narrow roads. We walk underneath
the colors, point out the countries we recognize.

Maj says that all flags are prayer flags.
I usually believe what he says. I do want the wind
to lift prayers from these drenched banners,
but only if the wind is blind to their spangled loyalties.

Some months later, Ben and I buy a quilt
patterned with flags. Their colors are inverted,
rendered unrecognizable. I dream well under the weight
of orange crescent moons, greens stripes, pink stars.

The wind doesn’t reach this quilt; its prayers go unnoticed.
Soon, I’ll wash it, hang it on the clothesline to dry,
wait for the wind to clutch and shake the dormant flags.
Their prayers will scatter: brilliant, haphazard, loving.

Amen.

Book Title!!!

2011-05-22T19:20:00.005-05:00

I am so very excited to announce that the title of my book shall be:

Any Day a Beautiful Change:
A Story of Faith and Family

It only seems right to share the news here.

I picked that title for my blog back in July 2004. Just as the blog itself was a whim, so was the title. I'd been listening to Befriended by The Innocence Mission nonstop that summer and especially loved the song "Beautiful Change." I couldn't imagine at the time how much that phrase would come to mean to me. Receiving Karen Peris's blessing to borrow it for the book title just makes me overjoyed.

For the record, even though the book will have the same title as my blog, there isn't a whole lot from here that will be there. I think just two posts were extended into full chapters. That said, this archive was an invaluable extension of my memory.

So, just one more time for kicks:

Any Day a Beautiful Change: A Story of Faith and Family
(forthcoming from Chalice Press early 2012)

There is exciting news about the cover art, too, but I'm going to savor each bit separately. Thank you for reading, and for celebrating with me, and stay tuned...

Ten on Tuesday

2011-05-17T13:28:00.006-05:00

1. I'm 32 weeks pregnant and have been so busy I'm only vaguely aware of that fact, mainly on account of the various third-trimester aches and pains. With Juliette, I was obsessed with being pregnant and becoming a mother. At some point between now and July, I hope I have a chance to do a little emotional and spiritual preparation for childbirth and welcoming a new baby into the family.

2. I certainly have the nesting thing down. No choice, really, as one must nest when one is moving into a new house. We have so much work to do yet - not the least of which, the less-than-fun stuff of getting a new roof and repairing the crumbling front steps. But we're getting there, little by little. So is the little bird who literally nested on our porch light all day Saturday. I'm fine with him living there as long as he doesn't try any funny business: no flying in my face when I open the door, buster.

3. The hanging pots and pans storage was one of the selling points of this house for me. I think it's that scene from The Princess Bride. I'm going to try an experiment tonight, and see what happens if I call Ben over and ask him to fetch the colander for me. "Farm Boy..."
4. Juliette and I walked to church from our new house today. I like that our route takes us through downtown Western Springs. Though really, it could be dangerous to walk past Kirschbaum's Bakery and Oberweiss Dairy as frequently as we will.

5. It's kind of hard to tell from this picture, but to get to the guest bedroom you walk up the stairs and then back down a short flight of stairs; it's a room on stilts that partially rests on the attached garage. The other two bedrooms and the one (1) bathroom are at the top of the rest of the stairs. It's a funky layout, but I love it.

6. Erica suggested we make this an annual picture. Someone may need to remind me next May...
7. I scored a pretty significant consumer victory the other day. To make a long and headache-inducing story short, I was so angered by a particular communications utility that I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau. Within days, someone from the company's executive office contacted me, cut us an excellent deal on our phone and internet for the next twelve months, and best of all confirmed that the customer service/ sales rep had committed fraud. I've been irritated with companies before but this was the first time I can remember being flagrantly mislead and lied to. I don't revel in getting someone in trouble - and I'm fairly sure that rep is in Trouble - but I'm grateful that organizations like the BBB exist to keep companies on the straight and narrow.

8. Juliette "read" aloud from a Bible story book this morning while she waited in my office for preschool to start. I'd planned to knock a few items off my to-do list, but ended up taking dictation of her lovely narration of the pictures. My favorites: "If you're sick, you have to say: God, help me from heaven. Feel me better... Jesus tells all the people how to say God helps you." She also explained that Jesus had a lot of children.

9. I didn't have it in me to do a thorough cleaning of our rental house before we turned the keys over last weekend, so I obtained paid housecleaning services for the first time in my life. Oh my stars. I was practically in tears when I walked through afterward, and I don't even live there anymore. The cleaning service offers a big discount for your second cleaning, and I'm thinking I don't want to put it to waste, especially given how dirty the floors get during the move-in process. I must tread carefully, though, as one can't get too used to such a luxury.

10. And here's Juliette: sweet, feisty, independent, snuggly, surprisingly flexible, vegetable-loving Juliette.

Almost There

2011-05-11T07:52:00.004-05:00

We're in the new house. Which is lovely. The problem is that we're still in the old house, too. I keep wondering how moving five blocks could be so much harder than moving 2021 miles. There is the possibility that the section of my mind that I lost during that move contained the memory of just how complicated and difficult it was. Or maybe I was just so distracted by the grief of leaving California and the excitement of arriving in Illinois.

At any rate, even though we didn't have to meticulously ensconce all our breakables in bubble wrap or figure out how to ship our vehicle: Lord, have mercy. The dribble of stuff from there to here is crazymaking enough, and when you combine it with busy work schedules and third trimester pregnancy and a three-year-old who decided that her first bath in the new house would be an emergency, must-break-the-104-degree-fever bath, again I say: Lord, have mercy.

Nevertheless, we're hanging in there. And it is delightful to be actively transforming this house into our home. As I wander around, figuring out where things go and such, I am reminded again and again of my grandmother's house in Massillon, Ohio. It doesn't look like it; it feels like it. I think it has something to do with the street it's on (even though there is not a People's Drug Store or a candy shop at the end of the road). And the height of the trees in the neighborhood. And something that I can't articulate yet pulls at my heartstrings like you wouldn't believe. All I know is that this house is unexpectedly and powerfully blessed by my Grandma Watson, and I can't think of a better confirmation that we're in the right place.

Public Transit

2011-05-04T21:17:00.006-05:00

Five years ago I wrote A Little Essay About Freeways, Which Also Functions as a Metaphor for Pastoral Ministry. I never explicitly mentioned ministry itself, and can't really recall what I thought the connection was. I think I mostly just wanted to brag about having finally figured out how to drive in Los Angeles, after several years of hyperventilating at the sight of fourteen lanes of traffic.

Today I took the Metra and L into into downtown Chicago and back, by myself. Last summer I traveled by Metra a couple times with Ben as guide and companion, but I hadn't ventured to the city alone. I had a meeting on Michigan Avenue in the middle of the day, and happily seized the opportunity to bring a book (two, in fact: Grace Based Parenting and Pollyanna) and take an adventure. I was a little nervous about the transfers, and admit that I called Ben in an addlepated panic because I didn't know which direction to take the Pink line. If you know Chicago you know this is funny because the lines only go in one direction.

I adore Chicago. I only know it in brief and broad strokes at this point, given that I spend most of my days tucked away in our little village suburb. But it just resonates with me. We're compatible (except for WXRT's insistence on playing far too many Counting Crows songs). And I'm downright enchanted by the public transportation system.

It's funny: I was convinced that my little essay about driving around the freeways of LA was really about ministry. But driving around in a car alone? That isn't really an accurate depiction of life in the church. Except for one dimension: life in the church as a solo pastor, on the lonely days.

I wasn't driving today. I didn't have any control over the schedule, and couldn't do anything about it when my inbound train was running late. But what you give up in autonomy you gain in freedom, when it comes to trains, and perhaps also associate ministry. The burden of responsibility is not solely on my shoulders; otherwise I could never have read Pollyanna while hurtling toward Union Station. Still, I got there. And I wasn't alone, but with a congregation of travelers all going the same direction, their heads bobbing in unison over their newspapers and novels.

(And now I have Mr. Jones and Me in my head.)

My Brilliant Friends

2011-05-03T16:30:00.000-05:00

I've had writing friends for nearly as long as I've been writing. My friend Lara was a crucial collaborator in the creation of No Way Out, the mystery novella I penned in the fourth grade. My writing circle really exploded in the eighth grade, when I made it onto my school's Power of the Pen team. By the time college came around I understood the writing community to be every bit as important to the writing process as writing itself. I still treasure my Kent writer friends: Maj, David, Carly, Amanda, Dan, Bryan, Paul, DM, and of course the red-headed one I married. The wisdom I gleaned from their writing and our friendships is invaluable to me.

Lately I've been especially bowled away by my friends' writerly brilliance. Amanda founded an incredible food literary journal, From Plate to Palate. I was not at all surprised at the news of another friend's acceptance to a fantastic MFA program; I read her portfolio, and it rocked. Erica's letter to her children and Heidi's piece on Fidelia's about the news of Osama Bin Laden's death impressed and moved me to no end. I'd barely scanned the headlines before they turned out remarkably thoughtful and faithful responses. I can't wait for Lee's contribution to Day1 to air, because I'll finally get to hear the words of her beautiful sermon embodied. Meanwhile Bromleigh published yet another thoughtful and practical piece, this one about biblical literacy (and illiteracy, as the case often is). MaryAnn manages to run a great blog even while under contract for what will undoubtedly be a must-read book about Sabbath. And my friend Suzie just contributed her first guest post to [in]courage; I hope many more will follow.

That isn't an exhaustive list.

Your friendship is a gift. Your words are a gift. Thank you.

Monday Miscellany

2011-04-25T22:09:00.001-05:00

1. I was going to write a real post, but then I got caught up in reading old blog archives. There's an awful lot of really funny stuff here that I totally would have forgotten about if it hadn't been for the blog.

2. That reminds me, I'm supposed to be working on the next few volumes of my Blurb blog books. I only completed the first two; Juliette hadn't even been born yet.

3. That project will have to wait a bit longer. We close on the house this week, and will be moving within the next three weeks. Today we signed the financing paperwork with the church in preparation for our final closing. Juliette was along, and was being very shy until the very end, when she addressed all the adults in the room in a loud and clear voice: "We're buying a new house!" Indeed.

4. Another Juliette quote from today:

Juliette: "I have a stomach ache."
Mama: "How long have you had a stomach ache?"
Juliette: "Umm... forty minutes."

5. If you are my friend on Facebook or if you have encountered me In Real Life, you know that I've been sick with a respiratory infection for over a week. I started to get better toward the end of last week and then it came back with a vengeance, just in time for Easter. To quote my most recent status update: I cried uncle. Praise the Lord and pass the antibiotics.

6. Juliette and I wandered through the Container Store last week, and I made an impulse purchase: two bottles from Life Factory. They are glass encased in a silicone sleeve. I got a big one for me and a little one for Juliette.Lo and behold, upon visiting their website, I learned that they also make glass baby bottles. Um, sign me up. The plastic baby bottles in the basement are almost certainly not BPA-free. Behold: They make sippy cups, too. I'm smitten. (Now here's hoping kid #2 doesn't reject bottles of breastmilk the way her sister did.)

7. Despite the waves of illnesses crashing through the Pershey household, Juliette managed to look pretty dapper on Easter morning:Yay for hand-me-downs! Erica made the lovely sweater, which we will be carefully returning for permanent safekeeping in Zora's hope chest.

8. Good thing it isn't Tuesday, and I have no contractual requirement to reach 10 items. Goodnight. :)

The Reverend Rocks Playlist

2011-04-16T10:49:00.000-05:00

The radio show experience was fantastic. Truly. I didn't say much, but that wasn't the point. I mostly just sat in the glassed-in studio (making sure the computer monitor blocked the horror movie showing in the lounge on the other side of the glass), listening to the songs being piped out over the radio waves. So very cool.

Here's my playlist:

I Don't Wanna Waste Your Time ~ Over The Rhine
Hallelujah ~ Ryan Adams
Words We Never Use ~ Ron Sexsmith
Man In Black ~ Johnny Cash
The Spirit vs. The Kick Drum ~ Derek Webb
Beautiful Change ~ The Innocence Mission
Goodbye California ~ Jolie Holland
State of Mind ~ Matt Thompson
The King Knows How ~ Over the Rhine
If I Can Dream ~ Elvis Presley
Justice Will Roll Down ~ Sandra McCracken
The Weight ~ The Staple Singers
Breathless ~ Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
For The Weary ~ Allison Sattinger
All My Favorite People ~ Over the Rhine
By and By ~ Dan Zanes & Friends

I'm pretty predictable, aren't I? Save for that Elvis Presley song. Bet you didn't see that coming. But it was a perfect follow-up to The King Knows How, and it's a great song.

After By and By, a Bare Naked Ladies song came on next. (Perhaps the clearest possible sign that my hour was over.)

Here's a link to the playlist on iTunes.

The Reverend Rocks

2011-04-11T12:58:00.000-05:00

i radio heaven

i get mixed signals
i move the antenna
i switch the channels
i lie in this bed
my satellite dish
is there room in the universe
for one last wish
(i say)

do you read me
over
you wanna come
over

("I Radio Heaven," Over the Rhine)

My radio debut, "The Reverend Rocks," airs live tonight at 7pm Central Time, streaming at wltl.net. I'm equal parts nervous and excited. The whole concept of speaking into a microphone that takes the sound elsewhere, out into the universe, where I can't see who or how many are listening, is terrifying. But the opportunity to craft that perfect playlist is absolutely exhilarating. I've written a few music reviews through the years, and I used to write that blog series called Music Mondays. But really, when it comes down to it, what I want to do even more than write about the music I love is get people to listen to the music I love. And that's what I get to do, for an entire hour. Tune in, won't you?

The Great Meat Pickup of 2011

2011-04-09T19:29:00.000-05:00

So, Over the Rhine was in town last night. Great show, of course. Up until the day of I was uncharacteristically planning to sit this one out - you know, save a few bucks for the move and all. But then I started getting twitchy. As it turns out, it takes a much more compelling reason than the desire to save $25 to keep me from an Over the Rhine show. Problem was, I'd waffled so much my potential date (Erica) had understandably made other plans. I am totally fine with many solo activities, from eating out alone to going to movies alone, but I'm not really game for driving to Lincoln Park for a late show alone. Besides, everything is more fun with a friend.

Enter: Heidi. Heidi is my brand new friend. We've seen each other precisely twice, once at a continuing ed thing (she's an Episcopal priest) and then once for lunch. I knew she liked Over the Rhine, and as it turns out she's been listening to them longer than I have, since 1997, when I was still a high school junior rocking out to Tori Amos.

I sent her an email asking if she might be interested in going with me. She responded to say that she'd love to, except that she couldn't. She had to pick up her meat from the CSA at 7pm.

If I didn't know how Community Supported Agriculture works, I would have totally thought she was searching for an excuse slightly better than having to stay home to wash her hair. But I do know how CSAs work, how you have to show up at a particular time and place to get your goods.

I mentioned the conundrum to Ben. He immediately offered to pick up Heidi's meat for her, despite the fairly long round trip it would entail. (How nice is my husband??) A perfect solution: he would drop me at her place, and as we took off for downtown Chicago he'd head over to the meat pickup and deliver it to the freezer in her garage.

Only, as I was starting to write an email to Heidi, my brand new friend, suggesting the plan, Ben noted how incredibly desperate and not a little weird this might sound to Heidi, my brand new friend. I mean, shouldn't I at least attempt to ration the crazy?

But, we're talking about Over the Rhine. I don't really dole out any of my crazy all that slowly, and especially not my Over the Rhine crazy. It just falls out all over the place, despite my best attempts. So I sent the email, all the while laughing so hard I could barely type, and to my delight Heidi was game. The night unfolded without a hitch: the meat made it to Heidi's freezer and we made it to the concert.

Ben did note during dinner tonight that he never actually met Heidi, or even saw her. He suggested the possibility that I might have had a hot date last night and that he unwittingly picked up the hot date's CSA order. But I will soon prove Heidi's existence: assuming I haven't yet scared her away, the plan is that she and her husband are going to have a BBQ with Ben and me. After all, they do have a lot of meat in their freezer.

Stories of Mistreated Royals

2011-04-07T18:16:00.001-05:00

I've watched two movies in the last week: The King's Speech and Tangled. (Spoilers ahead.)

I liked them both. I expected to like The King's Speech, given that everybody and their second cousin (plus The Academy) did. I didn't expect to like Tangled quite as much as I did, but that scene in the dive bar where all the tough guys were singing about their dreams was enough to push it from four to five stars. That, and Mandy Moore. I do like me some Mandy Moore.

That said, I also thought there were some disturbing undercurrents in Tangled. As well there should be; it is, after all, a fairy tale, and those fairy tales can be very dark. The evil fake mother, with all her creepy psychological tricks, is absolutely horrifying. The movie references the agony Rapunzel feels when she disobeys her mother through a humorous lens, as she swings between poles of exhilaration and despair. But the movie doesn't address the extremely complicated grief Rapunzel would experience upon realizing that her mother is not her mother, mere moments before the woman simultaneously hyper-ages and plummets to her death. It's not like I expected the movie to do so. Animated Disney movies are supposed to end with the obligatory happily ever after.

In reality, Tangled could have segued right into The King's Speech, a movie in which a royal figure grapples with the consequences of familial mistreatment and abuse. Decidedly not a fairy tale, the disturbing undercurrent in The Kings Speech is the unfolding of World War II. But The King's Speech can inspire where Tangled can (only?) enchant, because The King's Speech puts the wounded royal in the hands of a healer, not a myth. That Lionel Logue and his non-anxious caregiving made me so grateful for all the varied healers - therapists and doctors and nurses and pastors - who help people move toward wholeness.

That said, Tangled inspires in another way, with its story of sacrificial love and resurrection. I just hope that poor girl got some help, too.

Homeowners

2011-04-01T18:46:00.000-05:00

Later this month, we close on the purchase of our first home, thanks to financing assistance from the church.

It looks like this:Isn't it charming? It's a Dutch Colonial, built in 1929. It's small; even though it has three bedrooms, it's less square feet than the two bedroom house we're currently renting. We're okay with small. Less to heat, less to clean. And we've learned from having lived in bigger houses that we tend to congregate in the same rooms. We will have to come to terms with the 1929-sized closets, which are so tiny the hangers have to be hung sideways. We will simply have less stuff, and that's just fine. Preferable, really.

The house is within easy walking distance from the train station, the post office, the bakery, the dairy, the meat market, library, the hardware store, the elementary and middle schools, and several parks.

We probably could have bought a bigger house several miles away. But the trade-off wouldn't have been worth it for us. This was an amazing opportunity to discern what matters most to us, and we discerned that living - and walking - in this community was worth tiny closets.

Oh, and a tiny kitchen. (The dishwasher looks like someone ran it through the dryer.) But it's adorable! And I'm daydreaming about all the meals I'm going to cook up in this lovely little space.
So yeah, another move. Another transition in this year of so much change. But it feels good to make a move that is intended to last.

No: great. It feels great.

Ten on Tuesday

2011-03-29T13:14:00.000-05:00

1. These pink shoes are the same pink shoes I used to nonverbally announce the girlness of baby #1. I would have been thrilled to have a boy, I'm sure, but I'll admit that the thought of another daughter makes me very, very, very happy.

2. We thought we had a name all picked out, a lovely first-and-middle name combo. And then I googled it. I don't think it's possible for a search result to have been more sullying than the search result it generated. Nothing wrong with the name itself, but the icky actions of a person who has it did it in. I think we've come up with an even better alternative.

3. I gave up on the hair donation project. It wasn't so much a desire to have short hair again - though there was that - as a realization that I do not have the kind of hair that can grow long. It was splitting off like crazy, and never would have been strong enough to be woven into a wig. Sadly in my haste to hack it off I didn't take a picture; it was really long, for me. Now it's nice and short.

4. A couple weeks ago I lead a youth study on Glee, based on a curriculum downloaded from The Thoughtful Christian. We watched some clips and read some scripture passages, and discussed them in relation. It went really well. No boys showed up, but the girls' observations were thoughtful and mature. I continue to be so impressed with The Thoughtful Christian resources.

5. I just read Pillars of the Earth in a week and a half. I could barely put it down while I was reading it, it's so engrossingly soap operatic.

6. There are a lot more "serious" books on my list I intend to tackle, but I still haven't quite regained full brain function since finishing my book. One of these days...

7. On Sunday afternoon we decided to head downtown to The Magnificent Mile, the stretch of Michigan Avenue that is lined with stores. I had been under the impression that a Gap is a Gap is a Gap, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I nearly cried when I saw the vastness of the Maternity section. For whatever reason, a lot of the maternity clothes in my stash do not fit me very well this time around, even some of the staples I wore all the time when I was pregnant with Juliette. I got a handful of clearance clothes that will hopefully fill in the wardrobe gaps. (Particularly the gap in the general area of my lower back.)

8. We dared take Juliette into the American Girl Place store. She immediately kicked into a gear we've never before witnessed; normally, if she goes to a toy store, she finds a favored section and methodically and meticulously studies the toys therein. But at the AGP, she speedwalked through all the aisles, circling and weaving and completely wearing her parents out as we tried to chase after her. Thankfully, we managed to escape without a full-fledged tantrum. I'm fairly sure I would have thrown a fit large enough to merit law enforcement intervention had I been asked to leave such a doll store empty-handed at her age.

9. I will have twelve weeks of paid maternity leave.

That was a moment of silence as I pondered how extremely grateful I am to have been given such a great maternity leave policy.

10. My fantasy career is to be a radio deejay. And, thanks to a church member whose daughter is a student manager at the local (award-winning) high school radio station, I'm going to have my chance. On April 11th from 7-8pm Central Time, I'll be the guest DJ on WLTL 88.1. You can stream it here. My radio show title? The Reverend Rocks. Though it should probably be mentioned that I'm using the word "Rocks" rather generously. It's probably going to be a little more countrified than that. I'm super nervous but so very excited.

Chicken Escapades

2011-03-26T18:21:00.000-05:00

Juliette and I just got back from a quick but wonderful two-day jaunt to visit friends south of Indianapolis. Most of our time was spent with Anna, Ben, Mia, and Jed. Their backyard has become one of my very favorite places on earth. We decided to lay low all day yesterday, eating homemade Pad Thai (among other homemade delicacies), hanging out by the campfire, and, of course, watching the chickens.The last time we were there, we witnessed some Seriously Cute Toddler Flirting between Juliette and Jed.
I suppose what unfolded this time was merely the natural progression.

Jed is a really good driver. Like, not even just for a four year old. He's better than a lot of drivers I've encountered in Chicago. Juliette was thoroughly enjoying her ride.But then trouble brewed. Mind you, I'm not remotely making up the following dialogue exchange. It really happened.

As they turned the corner, we heard Juliette shout, "We're going to get stuck!""No we're not," Jed said, in an ever-so-slightly hen-pecked tone of voice."We're fine." End of conversation.
The grown-ups laughed so hard we nearly fell off our chairs.

Juliette has just as much love for Mia; her only full-fledged meltdown of the trip was on account of having to part from Mia last night.

Truly, the only thing better than spending time with some of my oldest and dearest friends is knowing that we're totally setting our kids up to be oldest and dearest friends, too.

Sigh

2011-03-17T22:30:00.000-05:00

I've been sighing a lot lately. Sighing is such a biological marvel: the deep exhalation that can convey so many emotions. Lamentation. Frustration. Exhaustion. Contentment.

I feel like it was just yesterday we were compulsively checking for updates about oil spewing into the Gulf, and the day before that following the immediate aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti. Now it's uncontainable radiation, another earthquake. Another tsunami. Such a devastating combination of natural and human disasters.

And, as always, there's the life that goes on in your own home, in between readings of the New York Times and prayers for those who are suffering. Last summer my concern for the Gulf was often overshadowed by our cross-country move; if I remember correctly, the oil started leaking just days before we boarded the plane. I think I will always associate the news of recent days with this spate of mind-boggling temper tantrums Juliette's been throwing several times a day. (Unless, of course, these mind-boggling temper tantrums continue for weeks/months/years to come. I'm not ready to go there.)

I've never been the type to push the comparative gratitude thing; i.e., the "there are people who are hungry, so be glad you have broccoli on your plate" thing. The whole project of meditating on other peoples' misfortunes or sufferings to make oneself feel better is off-putting to me. And yet, so many times this week I've found myself at my wit's end (pregnancy greatly reduces the length of my wit), only to remember the mothers and three-year-old daughters who have endured not only a massive earthquake (one of my deepest fears), an unfathomable tsunami, and now the fear of toxic radiation.

And worse, the mothers and three-year-old daughters who did not endure, who did not survive.

And I sigh.

:::

2011-03-07T15:40:00.001-06:00

Short Letters to Inanimate Objects

2011-03-06T19:00:00.001-06:00

Elizabeth has a wonderful series on her blog entitled Short Letters to Famous People. (You can read the latest installment here.) In the same spirit I present: Short Letters to Inanimate Objects.

***
Dear Puttanesca Sauce,

How did I live so long without experiencing your utter fabulousness? While reading Belong to Me by Marisa de los Santos, I fell in love with the idea of you. The character Cornelia explains, "truth be told, spaghetti alla puttanesca is a wee bit indecent, a rather lowly dish. Life-alteringly, soul-healingly scrumptious, but lowly. In fact, for reasons best left obscure, 'puttanesca' derives from the Italian word for 'whore.'" Full of olives and capers and - gasp - anchovies - I wasn't sure you'd be family-friendly enough for the Persheys. But as it turned out, we had a jar of you in our pantry, from a Christmas basket full of Ohio-grown delicacies. Having polished that jar off, we've moved on to the more readily-available Trader Joe's version. Life-alteringly, soul-healingly scrumptious, indeed.

***
Dear Honda Fit,

We felt pretty good about you when we bought you last September. Having done our homework, we knew you had a reputation for reliability and safety. I quickly learned you are marvelously manuverable. Dude, I can even parallel park behind your wheel. And then in December, my friend Allison was in a bad car accident in her Honda Fit. The car was destroyed. She was fine. Now she shows strangers pictures of her mangled old Honda Fit when they ask her if she likes her new Honda Fit.

So, thanks. Really. From the bottom of my heart: thanks.

***

Dear Swimming Pool at LA Fitness,

Thank you for being full of warm water, and mostly empty of people. When I was pregnant with Juliette what I wanted to do more than anything - anything - was swim, but I didn't have access to a pool. I only manage to visit you once or twice a week, but you're making me feel so much happier and healthier. You are not, on the other hand, making my hair very happy or healthy...

***

Dear Hair,

So, you are nowhere near as long as you must be before I can cut you off and send you off to Locks of Love. But I'm seriously wondering if you have it in you to get there. Even before the reintroduction of swimming into my fitness routine, you were taking this length experiment pretty lousily. Now your ends are snapping off like sugar peas.

***

Dear Liz Lange Dress,

I am so, so, so glad I bought you, even if I had to pay full price to make you mine. Even though you're a little faded this time around, you're still perfect: the funky gray flowers growing on a dark teal background, and that golden ribbon! It ain't easy being pregnant, and super cute maternity clothes make all the difference in the world. Even though I can't wear you bare-legged and -armed like I did during the summer in California, with a cardigan and tights you can even make an appearance during winter in Illinois.

Funky Wedding Dresses

2011-03-01T20:53:00.001-06:00

When I see this picture, taken just a few moments before Ben and I walked down the aisle, hand in hand, to be married, several thoughts immediately come to mind.In no particular order:
Why hadn't anyone told me about eyebrow pencils?
We look so young.
There is such a thing as too blond.
So glad we took the leap.
I adore that pink dress in retrospect every bit as much as I did on July 13th, 2002.

I struggled to find a dress. I knew I didn't want to spend a lot of money, and that I didn't really want to wear white. White is not my color. I'm sure if I had walked into a decent bridal store - something I never once did during our engagement - a salesperson well-versed in the infinite shades of white could have come up with just the right ivory hue, but I just wasn't into it.

I still have wedding dress #1, purchased at Bebe in Hollywood when I was on my seminary visitation weekend. It was champagne-colored lace, and altogether too short. Not like, "oops, my ankles are showing" short. Short. I only just started wearing it last fall, thanks to the addition of leggings in my wardrobe.

On to wedding dress #2. Light pink. Delia*s. Fifty bucks. I loved it. Loved it. The dress itself, and the fabulously low price tag.

A couple months ago I received a marketing email from Anthropologie about their new wedding dress line. I'm not especially into fashion these days. I did do a bit of shopping last fall when I realized I did not really have a lot of professional Midwestern clothes in my closet, and I do love a good Anthropologie sweater clearance.

I did not expect to be utterly transported by a wedding dress line. I, who never so much as read a wedding magazine in the public library.

But, oh, BHLDN is so lovely.

Their catalog isn't as cheap as my bridal gown, but $50 is admittedly hard to beat. Especially almost nine years later. But they're moderately reasonable, probably in the same ballpark as the gowns at David's Bridal. And they have so much spunk.

I think I would have picked this one, had it been an option.
And this one... um, if I ever officiate a wedding and the bride is wearing this, I might be the one to pass out.
Their bridesmaid dresses are fab, too. So maybe there's still hope for me yet...

Ten on Tuesday: Still Here Edition

2011-02-22T20:16:00.001-06:00

1. We're still here. There are just some seasons of life that preclude much blogging, and this has been one of them. I'm absolutely gobsmacked that we're nearing the end of February.

2. I'm experimenting with red lipstick. I know that there are many more important things going on in the world right now, but there it is: red lipstick.

3. Juliette has been to a number of great playdates lately. It is so fun to be in a community where somebody always seems to have an extra sandwich/carseat/spot in their playroom for your kid.

4. Speaking of our kid: she received a great evaluation from her church preschool teachers today. They think she's smart, funny, has a great laugh, and plays equally well with girls and boys. They also explained that the reason she never brings home much artwork is because the project table is optional, and she isn't into it. She's been coloring more lately, but much prefers books and games.

5. She is also into - very, very into - connect-the-dots writing. In addition to practicing her name, "Mama," and "Daddy," she recently requested me to dot "Dear Daddy, I love you!" for her to fill in. This was a project they did at her other school, and she's hooked.
6. I preached on Sunday for the first time in a long time - since the beginning of January. It was so good to have a break while I was finishing up (and recovering from) the book, but it was also good to be back. I realized that this associate ministry gig is a great one for me because I love preaching... and I love not preaching. Can't lose.

7. One of the women in my fabulous writing group was recently quoted in Politics Daily, along with The Young Clergy Women Project. I felt like a stage mother.

8. I'm beginning to look pretty darn pregnant. Originally we were going to find out the gender tomorrow, but it turns out that our insurance doesn't cover the "level two low risk" ultrasound. I rescheduled to have one in the office (which I'd considered doing in the first place), but they can't fit me in for a couple more weeks.

9. Boy or girl? We're pretty sure we have names for both.

10. We took a wonderful winter hike in the local Forest Preserve on Saturday morning. It was crisp and muddy and a whole lot of fun. Juliette saw this trunk and exclaimed "that looks like a fox!"Sure enough, it does. She's a clever one, our girl.

Snow Day

2011-02-02T14:22:00.000-06:00

They really weren't kidding this time; the snowfall measurement topped out at 20.2 inches, third only to the major blizzards of '67 and '99. It was eerily quiet this morning. Normally, since we live on a busy street, we're awakened by the rush hour traffic. This morning there wasn't a peep. In addition to the heavy snowfall, there was also a lot of wind, and therefore huge snowdrifts.
There's an entire kid-sized picnic table under there somewhere.

Ben helped shovel our next door neighbors' drive first - they have a snowblower, but it didn't really work very well in the driveway entrance. They had to get their driveway cleared as she's a doctor on call.

After a break, we all bundled up to go outside. The sun came out, and it was just lovely. Ben had his work cut out for him:What you can't see in this picture is the other neighbor behind me, who came over with his mega blower to help dig out our driveway entrance.

Juliette and I had a blast. Ben wouldn't let me shovel much (that one-two punch of baby + bad back really gets me out of certain activities), but I helped Juliette make snow angels and swing. I had to raise the swing about a foot to make it high enough. I made as many snow angels as Juliette, only I don't have a fancy snowsuit, so I ended up with a lot of snow up my back.

Here's Juliette standing on the buried chair:
Ben had just gone in to take another break when two more neighbors drove up with shovels in the trunk - my Senior Pastor and another church member, making the Good Neighbor rounds. They knocked out the rest of the driveway in less than a half an hour:I think the biggest and best memory of this day will always be what wonderful neighbors we have.

any day a beautiful change

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Someone's Been Using My iPad

Love Your Body

Umpteenth Post About Back Pain

Take Twelve 2012: January

The Greatest Willis Sister Crazy Consumer Gene Story Ever (So Far)

Take Twelve

One Word 365

Epiphany Sunset

Wednesday Miscellany

Fantastic Sweet Potato Sausage Soup

Book Review: The Sometimes Daughter

Resolutions or Repentance

Reading Challenge 2011/ Reading Challenge 2012

A Year in First Lines

Remember December

A Perfectly Imperfect Christmas Pageant

Dear Genevieve,

Dear Juliette,

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Day Baptisms

Two Beautiful Girls

World Vision

The Coat

An Advent Wail

Family, Afar

Ten on Tuesday

Nametag, etc.

Book (And Snow Wolf) Update

All Those Ribbons

The Benefits of Living in an Imperfect Family

Update the Christmas List, Kids

The Best Story: An Imperfect Christmas Eve Pageant

Midweek Miscellany

Book Review: Bless Her Heart

Exponentially Juliette

Three Pictures of Genevieve

*Really* Good Recipe

Monday Miscellany

As Different as Could Be

Thank You, Steve Jobs.

Forty-Three Pages Better Than Splendid

Sunday Night Miscellany

Celebrating Success

Instafam

Get in Shape, Girl

Countdown

Ten on the Day After Tuesday

Hopscotch

Juliette the Great

Now is Now

Ten on Tuesday

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A Tale of Two Blankets

About Borders

Unlikely to Forget: Jaundice

Before I Forget, Part II

Interlude: Help Heartline

Before I Forget, Part One

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31/9

Nesting

Scratch That

Waiting (Patiently) for Baby

House Love

Julietteisms

1989, 2011

It Takes a Village

Ten on Tuesday

Review: Ultimate Allegiance by Robert D. Cornwall

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A Rare Rant

Miscellany

Ten on Tuesday: Photo Edition

Congregational Resource Guide Podcast

The White Elephant

Prayer Flags

Book Title!!!

Ten on Tuesday

Really Good Recipe