the youngest in the family is seven.
and said tonight: mom, you know that means i’m almost eight, right?
i’m floating in the fog of baby images…and grounded in the awareness of how eliza has been treasured by her older siblings. this surprise of a baby was such a treat for us all.
happy birthday, sweet girl.
it hardly seems possible.
my world view is caving in and expanding all at the same blessed time.
the bounty is great.
well, that was good times. good valentimes.
valentine’s day. an excuse to make cards, tie ribbons, work in the kitchen, we turned into a valentine factory again…though this time only two of the kids and me. all the while watching a valentine episode of cake boss on line. i may as well be 6 years old again. i remember the feeling during the mass production of cards or treats: satisfaction and excitement.
and let me say that if eliza ever finds herself in a place in life where repetitive tasks are helpful, she will thrive. that girl whipped out her valentines and pleaded for micah to let her finish his. he said no. she went back and added another layer of stickers to hers.
micah’s were simple and tidy and almost more work than he wanted. but cute.
thanks to pinterest, i found a tag to alter for my preschool valentine. i loved having a reason to finger knit. ever since i fell off the real-knitting wagon, finger knitting is all i do…but there are only so many lengths of knotted yarn one can have.
we made homemade sea salt caramels for the walton school staff. it was my second time making them. i think there will be a third. we don’t have a candy thermometer, but i’m learning about this whole hard ball stage in the cup of cold water thing.
i got fancy for preschool in more red and pink than i usually wear. now it’s all tucked away for next year.
{and oh yeah, that’s pink heart double knit…thank you newton et cetera shop!}
on the actual day, the animals shared a meal (why and how and what?!?!?), four of us joined nana and papa for supper at a favorite mexican restaurant and naomi went to gymnastics. it’s a good thing she loves it.
and there is so much to love. tonight we head into this season of lent and i cling more to the determination to keep perspective. to let go when needed, to look in the eyes of my children, to recognize true joy. our friend, gordon, preached not long ago on a passage from luke. the phrase that hasn’t left me yet…choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life.
what a balancing act this life is. love and lent.
if i’d had my camera with me, i would have taken pictures of the 13 little bodies following me down the slushy sidewalk. having just left the chaos of passing out valentines, we were airing out.
if i had my camera, i would have taken pictures of them walking balance beam style on the parking lot curb behind me, arms out to balance themselves.
if i had my camera, i would have taken pictures of the 2 inch deep handprints we could make in that slushy goodness.
if i had my camera, i would have taken pictures of the ridiculously cooperative feat of making a snow baby. she’s sleeping in the freezer now.
but the picture i want most is of the moment we paused in the sun. that winter sun that is so penetrating it seems to dull all other noises. i closed my eyes and whispered gratitude for it. with the 13 little ones close enough that i could hear them breathing and that their feet were still, i kept my eyes closed for a moment longer.
then i opened my eyes to see many of their eyes closed too, red cheeked faces turned towards the sun, in a small town, in the middle of it all.
that’s what i wish i had a picture of.
preschool enrollment, painted nails, thrift store finds, cooking, valentine making…
some joys of these days.
happy valentine’s day eve.
in sorting through photos to add to the girls’ birthday scrapbooks
(to be completed in a mere couple of weeks!),
i scan my flickr account…
and how odd that all my christmas photos are gone.
hmmmm.
odd until i check iphoto and realize that
I NEVER DID ANYTHING WITH THEM.
so, maybe quite fitting
as we approach valentine’s day
that i once again honor these people and places i love so much.
christmas started at home with regifting and giggles and new robes.
then we load up and head to the farm.
where the smells of what we knew we’d eat
meet us at the door,
warm drinks simmer all day,
we cram a year of love into a day.
then it’s off to chicago,
a drive that can feel like a year
until we arrive to the joyous embraces of family.
with food we count on eating,
sheets that smell just right,
love for the children pouring over.
and then home again to a house
still acting like december 1.
tree and lights and garland
that would last three more weeks.
all tucked away now,
i think it’s fitting to showcase this ornament…
i made it for jerry.
when we were dating.
in honor of our time fishing at the schmidt place.
in 1991.
jerry and micah were just out there today.
the whole thing seems like all kinds of crazy.
so, this post of cake pops and big oranges with a few photos of the food we’ve been eating has stopped me in my tracks. i look at that child of mine and it doesn’t make sense that she is mine. it doesn’t make sense that i am that old. i don’t think i care about getting older, it just doesn’t make sense.
is my longing for them when they were little simply connected to a longing for myself back then (and actually, i was littler then). i see younger mamas bring their babies to preschool and i see myself getting farther and farther away. oh time, what a weird thing.
but my bigger and wiser babies are able to do things like……make cake pops!
in making these, i realized i’d never actually eaten a cake pop. i’d seen then and swooned over their cuteness. but i never ate one.
they are cake, crumbled up , frosting mixed in, shaped into balls, frozen and dipped in melted chocolate…suh-uh-uh-uh-weet and quite a bit of work! but oh, they are cute.
eliza made her own cupcake display in honor of “people should all get along no matter what they look like and that would make peace and dr king’s dream come true.” true, baby.
so, super sweet treats,
big oranges (and when combined with grapefruit, micah will easily eat five a day),
food that tastes better when fried for just a moment in a cast iron skillet with a bit of butter,
claiming this getting older,
some things will remain the same.
tender mercies.
many of you remember this day ten years ago. many of us stood together. many of us hugged. many of you held my baby. it’s a tender set of memories. not until i saw the photos again did i remember the magnitude of losing it all. amazing. so, ten years later…a movie and some thoughts i shared at church last sunday…
{thoughts on the church fire of january 31, 2002}
ten years ago i was most likely tucked away in our old rosewood street house. naomi was four years old and micah was just over 2 months old. my mom was with us helping me through the darkest and brightest weeks of my life. i had waved my white flag of surrender in the days following christmas 2001. tired of the neck tingling anxiety, tired of my stomach churning while i tried to fall asleep, tired of having to make myself eat, tired of convincing myself that my children were okay, tired of trying to feel happy, simply tired, i came clean. later described as “moderate depression and significant anxiety due to complicated compounded bereavement” associated with the mystery of micah’s birth in contrast to a lifetime of perfectionist issues, a miscarriage that knocked me to my knees, the terror of the 9/11 attacks and a general sense of not being able to do it all, i was in a time of healing.
sleeping on freshly laundered sheets, with cards from friends and flowers from church nearby, early morning light coming in, my mom woke me. her seriousness like a rock on the corner of my bed.
“kristin. there was a call from church. there was a fire. a fire in the basement.”
the next moments are vague. but i do remember a sudden sense of purpose. a bit of relief in there being something tangible to work with. i remember getting dressed and going over to church. i remember waiting outside a while. i remember the smell of hot wire and smoke. i remember jeanne saying to me, “nothing like a kick in the teeth when you’re already down, huh?”
and i remember feeling primed. ready. i had been through weeks of facing my greatest fears (failure, incompetence, loss of perspective, irrational thoughts, inability to sleep, lack of appetite, shame, embarrassment, dreams shattered…) and the fire in the basement offered an odd balm.
in the first moments of wandering through the burned classroom and wondering what could be saved or what should be saved, george said, “let it go. it all has to go.”
after weeks of being encouraged to move away from my “all or nothing” thinking, his words were like the drug i had been missing. i was truly relieved to let it all go. everything could and would be replaced.
the first task i had was to make a list of every item lost. that may have been the most therapeutic piece of the process. i sat at the computer drinking tea and remembered every corner of the basement. everything was named.
our old preschool classroom had shelves built with cinder blocks and stray boards. our cubbies were old alco display cases. our thrifted tables were once big tables cut down to child size. most of our toys were plastic. there were dozens of juice lids and toilet paper rolls. we had books from the 70s and 60 aprons made by hand. we had operated for over 7 years like that and i prided us for it. i boasted that it doesn’t take a fancy space to make a good program.
and it is because of the fire that we have what we have now.
maple cubbies with rounded edges, hardwood trucks, cars and blocks, anatomically correct baby dolls, matching chairs and tables, rugs that are sturdy enough so they don’t need to be duct taped down, windows that open, puzzles with all the pieces, banners and pretty shelves, and children’s books from today’s top authors…
tangible reminders of the mystery of god’s grace and mercy.
i know what i’m doing. i have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.
jeremiah 29:11
there’s a group of people we get together with about once a month…or every other month. adults are outnumbered by kids and when we all show up we total 22 people. we’re loud and obnoxious. we’re messy and often tired. we aren’t a very small small group.
personally, i’ve had some amazing revelations sitting around with this bunch of people. in the midst of parenting and getting more to eat, checking on the youngest ones and hearing a guitar being played, there are rich conversations.
after our last gathering, my kids expressed their happiness with small group. asking why, one said, “because the grown ups actually like to be with the kids.”
manna for my soul, man. that’s it. done. i’m in.
she is our tree.
{and side note: why she? there is no way our tree was a he. but why was she a she? at preschool i very intentionally refer to the random animal or baby doll as “she” and i love seeing kids’ heads snap my way in surprise. ahhh, yes.}
but she, our tree, is finally down. well, moved to the front porch. free of adornment and lights, out of the house. not until a few days ago did i feel really ready to take it all down. i’m not sure why. usually i can’t wait to clear the corners of the cluttered joy, the reminder of plenty.
there are layers to it, i’m sure, mixed with a dabble of plain laziness maybe. but one thing is that i did almost nothing to set this tree up. the kids decorated it. with their own box of ornaments and then a family box, the tree was dressed while i sat by with our traditional foods and drinks.
and it was pretty. dillons, our local grocery store, you did us well. a cheap and beautiful fir tree.
and perhaps mostly, the tree coming down means the end of this season. and in the words of our pastor and friend, [with the end of christmas] we move from a season of waiting to a season of action.
i like the short days, the cold weather which pushed us to use the oven more, light candles more, wear layers of clothes more. i like the built in “something to look forward to,” where the world around us suggests we should be excited for what is coming.
maybe the season of lent can be that for me. after all, if i want to be motivated by built-in joy and the mystery of the old stories, then easter seems like the one to go for. and there is plenty in this world to get fired up and active about.
i’ll work on that.
