Life in Crazy Land

This captures my day so well

In case you hadn't heard, our lives are crazy full right now over Chez Szrama.  In addition to our own precious kiddos growing and getting into all sorts of fun, we are hosting two extras kiddos (from within my extended family) while their mama gets some stuff sorted out.  V just turned 6 and is in kindergarten, while A is 3 and a half.  I also still nanny for L, who just turned 2, 3-ish days a week.  So, what's life like with 5 kiddos underfoot?

Well, it's busy.

But I'm living my dream. :)  Since the time I was very small, I dreamed of running a house full of children, especially children who needed extra love.  As a teenager I wrote imaginary Christmas newsletters updating my future friends on all my imaginary children year to year. (Ryan still hasn't read these.  Babe, you knew I wasn't normal when you married me, sorry.)  Working with children is something the Lord keeps leading me to; I've been told I'm good at it, and it brings me great joy.  So I'm over the moon.  Having kids simultaneously napping all over our house also kind of makes me feel like I have my favorite super power of sleep-induction.  Maybe I should see a psychologist.

In all seriousness, one of my favorite Bible verses is Psalm 68:6-

"He sets the lonely within families; He leads out the prisoners with singing, but the rebellious shall live in a sun-scorched land."  

I love being a part of fulfilling that verse, whether it was by bringing home college friends for Sunday dinner, sharing the Gospel with hurting people, welcoming old friends to our family table no matter what our food budget was, or now by tucking in two more at bedtime.

Also, we knew this was something God wanted from us.  When we became aware of the girls' situation, both Ryan and I immediately wanted to say "yes."  When Ryan and I agree on anything, that's kind of a divine sign. :)  (Especially if it involves me saying "yes" to anything... Ryan's usually my "let someone ELSE say yes-- you can't do it all!" coach.)  And as countless before me have experienced, when He calls, He enables.

Even youths grow tired and weary; young men stumble and fall.  But those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength; they will rise up on wings, like eagles.  They will run & not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.  Isaiah 40

Our day to day routine starts like this:
6:45 ish- roll out of bed & into my bathrobe, get downstairs to start making V's lunch and commence breakfast.
7- rouse V and get her to start dressing herself through any manner of threat and coersion  (Of course on Saturdays this is reversed and she wakes up raring to go.  God's sense of humor is kind of sick sometimes.) As she eats, I do her hair, cook breaskfast for everyone else, make my coffee, pack her lunch, write her a little note, and review our memory verse.
7:40- Ryan takes V to school, which is mercifully 5 minutes away from us on foot.
8- the other prisoners (ie Eowyn, William & A) are allowed out of their beds and begin munching.  Usually during breakfast L gets dropped off.  (If you're wondering at what point I take my shower and get dressed... ummm, yeah... I haven't really figured out how that fits in, either.)

Since Classical Conversations is over for the school year, we are settling into a homeschool routine that we like.  I aim to do "circle time" with everyone 3 days a week, followed by a math lesson (A kind of tags along and the boys make general mischief).  I get the girls at the table to work on handwriting (E) and number/letter/color/shape recognition (A).  Wednesdays we head to dance for E, during which I get to Zumba (the other kids try it too), then library story time, then lunch at Nina (my mom)'s.  E & I do one lesson in Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons about 3-4 days a week.  E is enjoying experiments with TOPS Get a Grip math supplement... during lunch we work on Bible verses from My ABC Bible Verses.  There is a lot of playing.  E is LOVING having sisters!  The little boys absolutely adore each other and come up with games of their own invention (such as the "ow" game, where they pretend to knock their heads against a hard surface, intoning "owwww" and laughing uproariously).  Another favorite is "Jump," in which case one or both of them hauls any object-- stool, book, beanbag, anything else Mom hasn't yet confiscated-- to the middle of the floor, and they jump off of it.  Repeatedly.  We head to parks pretty often, too.

Everyone naps between 1 & 2 (well, E naps every other day or so-- the off days she picks a quiet activity and plays ALONE as long as others are sleeping).  Usually that includes me.  Ryan brings V home around 3, and she goes straight to the kitchen table for a snack and homework.  I often make us some tea to share and she's starting to learn how to tell me about her day.  Her situation has made her quite behind academically, so we started at the beginning of TYCTR and have done one lesson each school day.  Then I coach her in handwriting, drill some sight words, and if E isn't napping, we do a number or word game together.

By this point usually some of the kids are awake and if it's remotely sunny they are clamoring to go outside.  This is where my life is much easier in some ways than it used to be. THEY ALL PLAY TOGETHER!!  Outside they troupe, usually first to ride bikes/push each other in the stroller/ pull each other in the wagon, and then they transition to some form of story-play.  Last week they've been poor people looking for a home, mother birds sitting on nests, Easter bunnies hiding eggs, mommies visiting each other, or cafe vendors selling smoothies & coffee.  Liam just wants to play basketball.  I try to interact with them a bit-- reading books aloud to everyone, playing, pushing or pulling on bikes, doing sidewalk chalk art, acting out a fairy tale (we really like the Three Billy Goats Gruff).  L's mama comes around this time and whisks him away; often we chat for a while (or a long while =D).

I make dinner... I've learned to get the kids started cleaning up earlier so it's done by dinner time.  They clamor to help me set the table and I let them.  We try to eat by 6:30 but we often are late-- either I haven't gotten my act together or Ryan works late.  Dinner is chaos... between our anorexic, highchair-hating-toddler (that would be Liam), an incredibly slow eater, kids still needing various degrees of help, trying to hear about everyone's day and a sudden advent of eye-ball-popping-out and poop-related stories... dinner is not for the faint of heart.  And just about every night amidst all the craziness and me giving someone the evil eye my heart just melts and I tell Ryan "oh please, when can we have some more?"

Dinner is swiftly followed by bed time.  That is one thing that DOES take longer the more kids you have!! Right now we are preparing for Easter with our Resurrection Eggs, which I love doing with the kids.  I am amazed at how much Liam loves them!  He begs to open "eggies" throughout the day, squeals with delight as each is opened, and is a generally enthusiastic nuisance the whole time they are out.  Hopefully he's learning something.  The girls are certainly starting to grasp the narrative of Passion week, and I pray that the reality of the Atonement sinks in.

Once eggs are opened and closed, Ryan takes over.  He supervises teeth-brushing, PJs & final potty-ing, and then reads them a Bible story.  We are into the NT in The Jesus Story Book Bible.  He sings & prays with them.  Meanwhile, I take Liam & get him into his PJs and we have our own little bedtime routine.  He asks for "che-che" and "Bobo" and I tell him "no!  Che che is yuck!"  He laughs and says "no!  che che is NUMMM!!!" (his version of "yum), or he will tell me "Mama, che-che is yuck" and then laugh and correct himself.  Once he's all dressed and holding as many lovies as he can cram into his arms, I settle into our glider to rock and nurse him to sleep.  I love the chance to snuggle him and smell that sweet little-boy smell.  He is getting so big and I know these days are numbered.

Once he's drowsy or asleep, I plop him in bed (well.... sometimes I might read an extra article online or comment on FB...) and make the rounds of kissing the girls & tucking them all in. Usually they're all waiting up for me.  E usually has some minor medical emergency like a hangnail or toeache or scratch requiring a band-aid...

That's pretty much how it goes!

they played "Doggy" in their self-made "cage" for hours

Don't get me wrong; there are times when I basically just tell everyone to sit down and stop talking... when I tell them that the next person who tattles gets to live outside... when I realize I've been ignoring "Mom! Mom! Mom!" for about 10 minutes... when I realize it's been a week since I opened my Bible... when I just want to be by myself for a whole 5 minutes... when I call my sister and add a topic to our "Least Favorite Ways to Spend My Time" list... when I lose it and shout and sin against my children... when I realize I've made the wrong call and need to backtrack... But overall, this is a good life.  It's a busy season, but it's one I'm enjoying.

We are being blessed by so many others, too.  Our extended family helps with the kids in countless ways; pitching in to get them to and fro, keeping them overnight so Ryan & I can get some us-time, bringing us meals, helping with chores.  We also have been so well-served by our brothers & sisters in Christ -- for the first three weeks after we got the girls, my cooking consisted of re-heating meals others had made.  People have brought over bags of hand-me-downs, given us bikes & toys, welcomed us with all our craziness, and come over and helped us clean.  It's so cool to be at the center of God's plan for His people to serve women & children in need ("widows & orphans")... you get a lot of tangential blessings, to put it geometrically. =D

And let me close with a "plug" for the Daddy of this crazy family.  If our family "tone" is of welcome and friendship, it's because he leads in it.  He excels at entering into people's stories and loving them in them.  He's also been amazing at doing lots of dishes and making sure I don't go insane.  I married a keeper.  =D

Cleaning What Will Be Dirty Again Tomorrow

I just posted a simple status to Facebook that has sparked some very encouraging conversation... so here it is:

At 9:05 pm, contemplating the food still out, the dishes piled unwashed, the baby crying to be fed, the baby toys scattered, the laundry in the dryer/on the line/in the washer/needing folding (we have a lot of laundry right now)... I quipped: "and now to try and summon the energy to clean what will only get redirty tomorrow..."

This struck a chord, probably with all my fellow home-makers pondering similar tasks at this late hour, with similar energy levels... postponing the inevitable with "one last Facebook peek."  My friend (and former Sunday School teacher!!) Holli replied: "My mom used to say we spend our lives rearranging generations of recycled dirt. She was sure she was sweeping out the same dirt Martha Washington had swept."  Another laughed: "Welcome to the life of a mother :)"  Another, "I've heard it said that cleaning house when there are toddlers around is like trying to brush your teeth while eating Oreos." Yet another posted a quote from Brooke Foss Wescott (1875): "Great thoughts go best with common duties. Whatever, therefore, may be your office, regard it as a fragment of an immeasurable ministry of love", and commented "At least in doing the rote thing over and over, since you do it automatically, you can think greater thoughts than how to do it. I still like hot dishwater and sweeping the floor last thing at night. It's a lot easier without the toddlers, but I miss having those rascals too."

I once heard housekeeping/motherhood described as a "sisyphean task" (Sisyphus being the Greek dude condemned to push the same rock up a hill every day only to have it roll down during the night, until the end of time)... so true.

Isn't pretty much any job like this at some level?  We do the same things over and over, because no matter what we do, it's never enough, or the last word, or the final answer... whether we are counselors, farmers, fishermen, social workers, policemen, teachers, engineers, or bankers.  As Sara Groves puts it:

"Everyone, everywhere, somewhere, somehow, is setting up the pins for knocking 'em down!  

you can find joy in the fertile ground, setting up the pins and knocking em down, [or] 

you can try to fight it till you're anger-drowned, setting up the pins." --"Setting Up the Pins"

My friend Mary mentioned her husband Matt's sermon series through Ecclesiastes. Ecclesiastes is one of my all-time favorite books. Such a great antidote to our overly pie-in-the-sky-leave-the-temporal-behind-and-dwell-only-on-the-spiritual-Reformed tendencies.  I guess I'd call it Redeemed Hopeful Cynicism.  (Yes, I know that's an oxymoron.)  It's hard to think God only cares about your "quiet time" with verses like "Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life..."  He cares about everything because it's ALL prayer-- or at least, proof that we aren't praying to the Right God!  I think I will be listening to Matt's sermons as I clean.  :)

I'm just glad that no matter how "unproductive" it seems (because I'm doing it all tomorrow again), I KNOW that it actually doing at least three things:  It is producing greater Christ-likeness in me,  It is fighting the Curse and bringing a little bit more chaos into Beauty (for a few minutes, anyway). And it serves people who will one day (I pray!) be so glorious that I would be tempted to worship them if I met them in my current state (as CS Lewis put it-- there are no ordinary people).  The Sisyphean task of motherhood would surely crush me, were it not for the even greater weight of glory pulling me onward.


But still... it is so tiring. I think that's why I like to do crafts-- at least at the end of my labor there I can hold up a cute dress or quilt or fairy slippers and say "TA DA!"

"my grandmother had a working song
hummed it low all day long
sing for the beauty that's to be found
in setting up the pins for knocking em down"

Hopefully I can remember to sing for the beauty of comforting a congested little soul wanting his mama in about 3 hours... :)
 So Blessed,
-- Christina

The Shadows Prove the Sunlight

Yesterday I packed a snack and water cup for my two-year-old daughter, dressed her in a pink sundress and pigtails, and dropped her off at the church nursery.  I sat next to my husband and held his hand as we sang hymns, shared a electronic Bible with him, and poked him when he made funny comments during the sermon.  It was a very normal, happy day for our little family.

Across the continent, my friends were crying.  Their baby girl had just died in their arms.  After 9 months of expectation, of waiting, of doing everything just right, after a labor and delivery that seemed absolutely perfect, they spent 24 hours wondering why their baby girl wouldn't breathe on her own... and then held her as she was welcomed home to her Father in Heaven.

A few states north of me, another friend was also grieving.  A year ago she was excitedly telling me about her and her newly-wed husband's plans to move West and start their dream life.  Then, all of a sudden, I saw on Facebook that he had cancer.  Just like that, their plans all changed.  We all prayed for healing and for persevering grace.  Yesterday, the Lord answered those prayers by bringing her husband into a perfect body that will never suffer again, and His grace has shone through her testimony (and his) throughout this entire trial.

It hit me that they both just lost the things I most treasure on this earth.  I mean, what would it be like to make that post to Facebook: "my husband is with Jesus now."  Or "Thank you for all your prayers; we'll need them even more as we head home from the hospital with empty arms"?  I can imagine all too well.  It would tear my heart to shreds.

And at the same time, the Lord is bringing other thoughts to mind.  Their shadow has opened my eyes to the light I am enjoying.  Shadows are supposed to do that-- to draw our eyes in search of the Light casting them.

And yet I complain to my Father in Heaven that my husband didn't help with the dishes again, that I'm so tired of being woken up to take a toddler "potty" again, that my marriage isn't the easy companionship it is "supposed" to be every day, that my daughter has those days where she tests every single limit in our home (including my sanity).  I complain, and I whine "this isn't what I asked for!  I've obeyed You so well-- can't I get the perfect happy life I "deserve?"" (hah!)

This has been such a reminder of just how happy my life is;  of just how much the Lord has given me in plain, undeserved kindness.  If and when He calls me to go through the trials of loss (someday, I will lose everything I love to death), I know He will give me His Joy and Peace even then.  But in the mean time, really, why do I complain?

Not only do I have the eternal blessings of Holy Spirit to comfort, guide & convict, of a Savior's love so deep it went to Calvary for me and constantly pleads my case in front of God, of a Father who looks at me with pure affection and pride because He only sees His perfect Son when He looks at me-- as if that wasn't enough, I also have a beautiful, safe home in a peaceful country, with a hard-working husband who makes me laugh, and a baby girl whose preciousness only grows every day.  That's just the important stuff-- there are so many other blessings that are gifts I forget about.  As someone once said, "Anything short of Hell is Grace."  And anything on top of that?  I guess it's just extravagance.

May I always treat my Father as an extravagant Giver instead of a stingy kill-joy.  No matter what hardships He ordains for me, I know they are temporary, and are intended to make me happier-- infinitely happy!-- later on.

“For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

  

Soul, then know thy full salvation-
Rise o’er sin and fear and care
Joy to find in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
What a Father’s smiles are thine,
  What a Savior died to win thee--
Child of heaven, canst thou repine? 
(-"Jesus, I my Cross Have Taken")

  

Seeking to walk as one who knows that Beauty and feels that Smile everyday,

~Christina

The Fine Line Between Complaint and Grief

I recently heard a talk that left me wondering "is there a difference between complaining and grieving?"  The speaker was sharing both how the Lord had brought her through very difficult trials (which was a real blessing to hear), and also how we as fellow Christians could minister and be mindful of the trials of another.  The second part was what led to my questions, my musings, and what (I hope) the Lord is teaching me. Here goes... they kind of build on each other, but are interrelated.  Hopefully it is somewhat coherent. :)

1. Grief is real.  It's a part of this life, sure as breathing.  For Christians, suffering is guaranteed, even escalated, because of our faith.  But it's also redeemed, given purpose, given a Presence.  We are comforted in our suffering by the One who knows us best and loves us most, we are assured that this suffering is doing wonderful things in us, and that it will make us happier in the long (eternal) run.  Our Savior picked up every bit of leftover bread when He fed the multitudes-- would He ever waste our sufferings?

2. We are commanded to share each other's joys and griefs.  That is, there will be times when someone else is crying when we feel like laughing, and we are supposed to put aside our desire to whoop and holler and try to enter into their grief, as if it were our own.  There will be other times when our pain is so deep that we wonder how anyone anywhere could even smile.  In those times, we are to give thanks for another's blessings, and rejoice with them.  WOW!! I remember reading something that Richard Wurmbrand, who was tortured for 14 years in Soviet Romania for his confession of Christ and continued preaching of Him, wrote-- something along the lines of "I remembered that somewhere, some believer was full, some believer had his children around him, some believer was worshiping God freely, and so I could rejoice for them, with them, even in my prison cell." (Read his description of the priest who taught him this here.)  Talk about humbling. 

3. The Biblical command to 'do all things without complaining' is not a gag order on grief.  We CAN grieve without complaining, but we have to watch ourselves!  Picture this:  an obviously-pregnant woman enters a room, sweating in the July heat, ankles swollen and face tired.  She immediately begins bemoaning how uncomfortable she is, how hard being pregnant is, how she just wishes the baby would hurry up and be born.  That's complaining, and it probably isn't exactly "helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it might benefit those who listen." (Eph. 4:29)  As my mom often chided us, "That's the sort of talk that got Israel wandering in the desert for 40 years!"  Picture another scenario, though:  the same obviously- pregnant woman comes into the room, and at the question "how are you?" she says, quite seriously "I am having such a hard time being pregnant right now.  I really could use your prayer-- everything hurts and I haven't slept a solid night for 5 months now."  That's not complaining, that's grieving (at least as I see it), and any one who hears that-- man, woman without kids, woman with 5 kids, woman wishing she had kids-- can and should acknowledge that her grief is real, and do what they can to ease it, whether it be with encouraging words from Scripture, with reminders that something beautiful will come of this pain, prayer, a glass of cool water, or a big hug. But expressing our pain, our emotion, our questions, our confusion, can be a part of grief, an asking for burden-sharing, even of worship-- just check the Psalms!-- and doesn't need a Phil 2:14 "do all things without complaining!" slapped onto it.

4. Different kinds of grief are... different, but all potentially equally painful.  Suffering naturally turns us inward and make us so selfish.  When I hurt deeply, it is all too easy to let that pain become the lens through which I interpret everything around me.   "How could she share her struggles? Can't she see that MY pain is the worst? How dare he laugh around me?  Doesn't he know I'm suffering?"  You get the idea.  But that's just not Biblical.  If I'm a Christian with a chronically painful back, and my sister in Christ is crying because she didn't get accepted into the study program she wanted so badly, we can both validate each other's grief.   We can put our arms around each other and say "we're both hurting-- let's take our pain to Jesus together."

Two areas I've felt this and seen this at my stage of life are singleness v. marriage and infertility v. child-rearing.  I've heard things like "Don't complain about how hard your marriage is to your single friends.  They don't want to hear it."  Similarly, I've heard "If you're having a hard time being pregnant, only talk about it with people who are 'like you' (as in, people who are not infertile)."  I think both of those are dead wrong. Of course, I don't think that complaining is ever right, especially not about one's husband, whom we have vowed to honor and are commanded to respect (Eph. 5:33), BUT to say that one can only share one's sufferings with one who has suffered the same sorrow kind of defeats the point of verses like "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the Law of Christ" (Gal. 6:2).  It doesn't say anything about only sharing burdens like the ones we already carry.   That would imply that our pain is more valid than another's. Honestly, I think it's very helpful for singles -- who so often are tempted to make an idol of marriage-- to hear the struggles and heart-aches that marriage can bring.  Similarly, it is a good reminder to the one who is overwhelmed and weary from day-and-night childcare to hear that others would give anything to have a child.  And the converses are true.  Other griefs act as great perspective checks.

5.  It seems the best way to share grief is to first just listen, probably hug, too, and then offer to pray (possibly right then & there).  However, hearing a litany of "what not to say" is only so helpful.  If we rather start at the point that everyone has hurt, and probably means to comfort, we'll be way better off-- less offended for sure-- than expecting everyone to walk around eggshells around me because "I'm suffering."

So back to the beginning, and also the conclusion... everyone has hurt.  I read Proverbs 14:10 as a depressed and confused 6th grader and was struck by its truth "Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy."  We are all the walking wounded, despite the smile and clean clothes.  For some, the hurt is clear and public, perhaps painfully obvious:  the broken engagement, the death of a child, the sudden loss of a job.  Their grief is easy to spot, so easy that these grieving are likely to crave anonymity instead of sympathy.  For others, the pain is buried deep, darkly shrouded, the despair so often borne alone:  the spouse addicted to pornography, the dream that must be buried yet again, the secret hope so long deferred, a long loneliness that wears down the soul.  Talk to anyone long enough, though, and you will find a fellow sufferer.  Our challenge in Christ is to extend a hand, then put our own shoulder gently under the other's burden, and together face the Light. I like how the ESV puts that verse-- "The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy."  Let us not be strangers!

I guess the one-liner swirling through my mind after typing and thinking and praying a bit on this is: let's SHARE our burdens, without complaining, yet without guilt.  What are your thoughts?  Anything to add or share?

Did Video Kill the Radio Star? Trying to Figure Out my Lately-Lacking-Luster Blogging

Or, in my case... did facebooking kill the blogger?  Looking at my older blogposts, I'm surprised at how much every-day life found its way into my blog.  I wrote about friends and church, places I'd seen and funny things I'd heard.  I quoted books and poetry, I talked a lot about music.  I was a lot more open about my feelings and my questions.

Granted, my life is busier in many ways now-- with a toddler to tend all day and a family to feed and enjoy in the evenings (and a body dying for sleep by about 9 pm), I don't have as much leisure time to just plain ol' write.  My journaling has suffered terribly-- whereas before I filled in around 4 journals a year (in tiny writing!), now it's more like 4 years per journal... I think a lot; stuff percolates, but I'm more likely to talk it out with Ryan while we walk, or spill to my sister or Val on the phone while I cook or clean than to spend half an hour putting it on paper.  It's harder to set aside the scant time I have to myself to muse and ponder when I could read a story or complete a project; both feel easier after a day of giving of myself non-stop. I'm also more guarded about my thoughts and feelings.  There is a husband to honor and three sets of families to consider, instead of just me and my lone college self, back when my blog was read by around 6 people on a good day. :)

But I think the biggest reason my blog has cheapened is that now I have facebook.  Whereas before I piled up the mundane, sifting and sorting it until a pattern of beauty emerged; a bit of Meaning I would rejoice to portray here, now... I just throw up a two-line snippet on FB and forget about it.  No layering, no piling up, just single tosses.

It's not that I'm lacking material to mine:  I've been attacking my pile of books with renewed vigor.  I've been doing more household projects than ever, have been learning more about relationships and their sweet tangle.  The Lord has brought old memories to mind as new sermons have been preached. Every day my daughter's capacity to communicate and think grows,  and with it my delight in her and my job as a mommy... and right along with them new challenges and questions and frustrations.  I would much rather pound and meld those into blog-posts than throw them out piecemeal... if I can.

Over and over, though I think of Sally Clarkson's words to us at the Relevant conference.  "Until you are committed to glorifying God by loving your husband and your children as well as you can- when no one ever sees,- you will have nothing to share with others.  You won't have anything worth blogging about."  I've been trying very hard to hold those words close to my heart.  I came home with an armload of bargain books from the Christian Book Nook yesterday, among them When God Writes your Love Story by Eric & Leslie Ludy, and underlined this section "Leslie, don't try to build Me into your life anymore...instead build your life around Me. [...] He was not the central focus of my daily life.  In reality I was only giving Him a few minutes of scattered attention here and there." (p. 61)  Is that my problem?

Well, faithful readers, I don't even know if I succeeded at what I set out to do... but at least I did set out to do... something?  I thank the Lord for this blog; for the people it has encouraged, for the help it's been to me in my own thinking.  More is surely to come.

Gardeners-in-Training

Today we planted a garden. Nothing much; two raised beds criss-crossed with twine, layered with peat moss, leaves, vermiculite, compost & manure... Ryan did all the heavy work- as I've been sick in bed for most of the past 3 days, he barely let me lift a shovel to spread the peatmoss. But I sketched out what each square foot is to hold, read up on how to build the beds and layer the soil, did some light mixing & spreading, and then carefully pressed seeds, tubers, seed potatoes and rhizomes into their freshly-made beds. (We're doing a combination of Lasagna Gardening and Square-foot Gardening this year-- both quite new to us!)

It was an enjoyable experience all around; an afternoon I'll probably always look back on as a precious photograph of our life at this stage. The weather was gentle and pleasant. Ryan and I worked together- sometimes talking, regularly conferring, helping each other, and often lapsing into companionable silence. Eowyn woke from her nap about half-way through the process, and the real fun began. I can still taste the sweetness of watching her watch me, and trying to do just what I did. No matter that Mommy had a spade and she had only hands-- she can take that brown stuff out of the sack and put it in the wooden box, too! Oh for the heart of a child, to be so content with the simple gifts our Father daily gives; the cool crumbliness of dirt; the thrill of alternately creating chaos and order with sticks and bucket; the music of seeds in paper packets; the confidence that a tiny voice pleading a tiny word- "Up!" will be answered by a Father; and, most precious to me today, the delight found in imitating those whose love we treasure and whom we deem "Great."

We laughed as she repeated the last word of each of Daddy's phone-conversation phrases "cool!" "okay." "ba-bye" We smiled as she wanted a turn to hold the tools we used. Our hearts warmed as they usually do when she wanted to be near us, to be with us, to be as near our hearts as possible (in our arms). It also made me catch my breath She's watching you-- all the time! Be careful what you say and do-- or even when you sigh or frown. Woah.  As I think about it now, though, the realization is pressing me a different way: My daughter loves to be near me. With me. More-- she wants to be like me. If watching her try to be like me is such a delight... how much does the Lord long for His children to be like Him?

And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God [...] Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.  Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.  Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Eph. 4:30-5:2, NIV)

This passage came to my mind, and as I read it I realized just how many nuances there are to it... The Spirit of our Father can be grieved by our conduct; when we don't imitate the elder Brother (Jesus) who loved us, gave Himself up for us, and bought our ultimate, never-ending, pure-joy forgiveness from God our Father.  We're supposed to imitate Him.  Why? How?  Because we're dearly loved children; it seems like that's the answer to both questions:  we should imitate as beloved sons & daughters do, and we should imitate because we are God's children, and so should have the family trait of dying-to-self-love.  Doing this is "fragrant" -pleasing, pleasant- to our Daddy, just as our elder Brother's sacrificial death was to God.


I guess I'm spiritually gardening in both directions, trying both to model and to imitate.   I'm trying to plant seeds in my daughter's life by providing an GOOD example to follow.  At the same time, I'm trying to cultivate imitation in my own heart-- imitation of my Father & my Brother.  Both are done only in the Power of the Helper, the Promised Holy Spirit, because both will be nothing short of miraculous.

Not by might, not by power, but by Thy Spirit!  (Zechariah 4:6)

(Note the dirt on her face: she was quite filthy, as every healthy child should be on a lovely day, I think!... =D)

Beautiful, Oops!

Just a note on this post:  you might start out wondering why it's here, instead of at my book-review blog (www.mamaszrama.com), because it does start off being about a really cool new children's book.  But bear with me, because it's not actually about this book, cool as it is.

This little book has recently captured my fancy.  Called Beautiful, Oops!, it is a whole new type of pop-up book, celebrating the potential in every "mistake."  The book itself is a study in creativity-- totally thinking "outside the box."  This would be a GREAT way to start a discussion with your children on God as Redeemer; One who reclaims for Himself what is captive, ugly and wrong, making it beautiful, holy and right by His very presence.  Watch a video of it here.

Our culture prefers the word "mistake."  It's somehow easier to say than "sin."  It doesn't imply evil, just misunderstanding or poor judgement.  Maybe even accidental action or inaction.  And we make a lot of those (I know I do).  Several times I've heard friends try to pass off a serious hurtful sin as "one mistake" lately.  Well, it was a mistake... and it was also a sin.  Bearing this in mind, that labeling something a "mistake" doesn't let us off the hook where repentance is concerned, this little book contains a lot of truth.  The first way to go about seeing something beautiful come from a sinful mistake always must be repentance; an admission of guilt, an apology, an asking for forgiveness from the offended party AND from God, and a resolve to turn from that sin and do the opposite. With our pride gone and forgiveness granted we are free to be amazed at how God weaves our mistake, our weakness, our sin, into a glorious tapestry of grace and joy.

This has got me thinking...thinking about a blog post written by a friend of mine who just found out that his youngest adopted son, whom he will soon bring home from Ethiopia, was conceived in rape.  Woah.  Talk about sobering.  By my friend's account, the girl was quite young-- some might still call her a little girl-- and she was violently assaulted, violated by a sick man's lust, never to be innocent again.  Talk about a "mistake." That doesn't even do it justice-- that wasn't a mistake; it was sin; despicable, awful, terrible, harmful, the stench of death.  Yet, out of that terror-inducing, evil, agonizing violence God brought a beautiful thing:  someone made in His Own Image.  Wow.  From one man's wicked act God brought life, and in His mercy the girl bearing that life prized it above her own comfort.  She carried her son, gave birth, and then did everything in her power to see that her son --the baby she never asked for from a man she had every right to hate-- was cared for.  And she went away happy. That girl -so young, so poor, so far away- whose name I do not know has become one of my heroes as a mother.

What did God bring out of an evil, disgusting sin?  First of all, a baby boy, fearfully and wonderfully made.  Secondly, the joy of a desperately poor young Ethiopian mother, who has peace in her heart and on her face in knowing that she sacrificed herself for her son.  Thirdly, the delight of my friends, who have a son to love and hold and teach.  Fourthly, the enrichment of his brother and two sisters, who will now grow up sharing all their memories with him.  Think of the aunts, the uncles, the cousins, the grandparents, the friends, the school teachers, the doctors, the nurses whom he will touch... The list will go on and on as this child grows.  His parents are bound to Cameroon to translate Scripture there; it could be that he will save the lives-- physical or spiritual-- of thousands there; time only will tell.

Joseph said to them, "Don't be afraid. Am I in the place of God?  You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." (Genesis 50:20)

You can read even more "Beautiful Oops" stories here, as 4 adoptive parents recount the miracles that brought their precious children into their arms.  I love the pictures of these smiling babies that are beside each story (I have held and changed several of the children featured!).  One of the most striking paragraphs to me:

Shortly after our son Isaiah was born, he was abandoned in a high school.  He was found sobbing and with the umbilical cord still attached by a man named Teshome.  We will forever be thankful for his kindness in saving our son’s life!  He took Isaiah to the police, and from there he was sent to an orphanage.  We are often brought to tears thinking about how close Isaiah came to death.  He is such a happy, curious, strong boy and brings us so much joy and delight.  We praise the Lord for protecting his life and allowing us to be his parents!

Contrast that with this view of mistakes:


Oh Lord, keep us from the arrogance that would make us judges of the effects of sin-- either our own or one inflicted upon us. Give us hearts dedicated to Redemption; determined and expectant to see You work unimaginable beauty from our ashes!

"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified." (Isaiah 61:3)

New Years Resolves

I grew up doing these, and always feel like I'm missing out on a great opportunity if I let a new year slip by without some purposed changes coming along.  So... here I go making these public, now that I've had a week to let them stew, and to talk to Ryan about them...

1. Spiritual-  read through the Bible using the Plan for Shirkers & Slackers (explained a bit here).  My buddy Val is teaming up with me on this one all the way from Toronto! Ryan & I are reading through Moments With You, a couple's devotional by Dennis & Barbara Rainey, every night together. So far we've made it a week straight and are enjoying it and finding it helpful!! :) (thanks for the wedding gift, Uncle Jeff & Aunt Karen!)
2. Spiritual- keep more of a liturgical year by celebrating Advent & Lent both personally and as a family, as well as the 12 Days of Christmas (between Christmas Eve & Epiphany/Three Kings Day)
3. Physical- exercise at least 4 days a week (using DVDs, gardening & walking, and that new iPod insert for my shoe Ryan gave me for Christmas), with the goal of running a 10-mile or half-marathon race this summer
4. Physical- continue to cook seasonally, with an expanded garden grown from seeds this summer (the "from seeds" part is what really freaks me out), and canning/preserving as much as I can
5. Intellectual- keep on reading, reviewing one book per week on my children's book review blog.
6. Intellectual- keep on blogging, streamlining my blog to reflect my passion for equipping others to fully use the brains God has given us by thinking critically about what we eat, read, and do.


TA-DA!

What about you?  Have you done any formal (or informal) resolves for this year?

Why I Read About Heroes

My mind has been impressed with variations on a theme from my readings lately. I've been noticing over and over that "heroes" are just ordinary people who keep doing what is set before them to do, even when it's hard and when it's not what they want, nor what they would naturally do.  Sometimes I think we should just assign chapters in great fiction in counseling. :)

"The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo:  adventures, as I used to call them.  I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say.  But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind.  Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually-- their paths were laid that way... But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't.  And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten."  (The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 8 "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol," J.R.R. Tolkien)

"Piper's dad had called him a hero earlier.  And Leo couldn't believe some of the things he'd done-- smacking around Cyclopes, disarming exploding doorbells, battling six-armed ogres with construction equipment.  They seemed like they had happened to another person.  He was just Leo Valdez, an orphaned kid from Houston. He'd spent his life running away, and part of him still wanted to run.  What was he thinking, flying toward a cursed mansion to fight more evil monsters?"  (The Lost Hero, Chapter 47, Rick Riordan)

"Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for His body's sake." Colossians 1:24 [...] " This call has nothing to do with personal sanctification, but with being made broken bread and poured-out wine. God can never make us wine if we object to the fingers He uses to crush us with. If God would only use His own fingers, and make me broken bread and poured-out wine in a special way! But when He uses someone whom we dislike, or some set of circumstances to which we said we would never submit, and makes those the crushers, we object. We must never choose the scene of our own martyrdom.   (My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers,  September 30th)

I think the Holy Spirit's helping me to be strengthened through the examples of others, to be reached and motivated at the "heart level" rather than the intellectual.

We don't get to choose our own adventures, usually.  We just get to choose whether or not to turn back.

Sign Me Up to Go Down Swinging

I had this string of realization as I ran through a vibrantly autumnal local park.  I like to be efficient.  Put forth the minimum effort required to achieve desired goal.  Then, more resources are available for doing more.

Hmmm... spiritually, that bites me.  Well, it bites me when I'm trying to move too quickly and I ram into corners and low gates -ow.  This is totally against the heroic maxim "If I must die, I will at least take as many foul enemies with me as I can!"  My heart would rather say "if I'm going to die anyway, what's the use avoiding it a bit?  Sounds useless and tiring-- not to mention messy."  Go down swinging, why?

Right now, I'm in hermit mode:  don't want to talk, think, or make the spiritual/mental effort to deal with certain things.  I'm sad, hurt, ashamed, struggling to trust.  I tell myself, "I don't have the energy to fight-- what's the point, anyway?  If I'm just going to lapse back into this rut, may as well plod along in it, right?"


Lord, please give me a determination, the resolve to at least "go down swinging."  

It's what the Ents did.  And Frodo, and Sam.

"Of course, it is likely enough, my friends," he said slowly, "likely enough that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. That thought has long been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now at least the last march of the Ents may be worth a song. Aye," he sighed, "we may help the other peoples before we pass away." (The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien)

It's what Dumbledore explained to Harry once:  

"It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated." [not eradicated by human strength, in this Age, he means] (Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince-- aka HP 6) ~JK Rowling

Oh for such a high view of Truth & Beauty & its Creator and a low of view of ourselves that we might be glad to fight for holiness, with every bit of strength we- I- have.  Yes, even our last breath-- my last breath.

Most inefficient.

But most worthwhile, I think.

Guardians of the Vulnerable-- in three links

My esteemed fellow Hutchmooter, S. D. Smith, has posted 3 posts on his blog recently that sort of tie together.  Two are interviews with Greg Lucas, author of Wrestling with an Angel, whose blog I've mentioned here before. One teaser, then I'm done and you should go read the interview:  Greg & his wife are actively caring for the vulnerable, and it is transforming them.  As S. D. Smith put it,

 "He and his wife, Kim, have a household where art is on display. It is a gallery of love, with portraits of mercy and sculptures of grace filling every space." 

Read  Part 1 and Part 2.

The third post is actually a movie review...a kid's movie about warrior owls.  Sound like a perfect date night?  Well, it might!  The movie sounds amazing to a fantasy nut like me, and every review I've read is glowing.  It sounds like this movie goes beyond cool effects and a good storyline.  It has Echoes of The Story all over it, about the strong laying down their lives for the weak; about mockable faith turning to glorious sight; about treasuring the weak things of the world instead of boasting in the strong. Yeah.  I think I'm gonna have to go see that one.

Earthy Spirituality, Spiritual Earthiness

I love the Old Testament.  I love the stories, the crazy old kooks and unlikelys that God uses to work heroism and rescues...  I love how the nuggets of everything you need to know as a Christian is hidden in all the Old Covenants in "seed" form, like all the clues to solve every good mystery are there right in the opening chapters.  Once you know the end, you turn back and there they are, plain as day, and you wonder why you didn't figure it out!  I love the raw emotion of the Psalms, the proof that every situation in which we might find ourselves is worth bringing before the Lord and talking to Him about.  Not just one on one, but in public, accompanied by music and shouts, hand-raisings, claps and dancing.  The hard, the exuberant, the completely baffling, it's all supposed to come in His presence, ready for His answer, singing yourself into a humble, thankful state, or at least a wanting-to-trust one. I'm so thankful for that handbook to human emotion and prayer given to us.

Right now, though, I'm finding a new love for the "wisdom literature" --Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon.  I love how often I want to say "duh" after reading quips or quotes from these books.  I love how they describe the homey relations and trappings which are now so obviously my life:  husbands, wives, children, food, sex, friends, homes, houses, money, savings, gardens, jobs, love, hope and despair.  It keeps me grounded, reminding me that I am a soul WITH a body; a citizen of Heaven living very happily here on earth.  It teaches me to whole-heartedly enjoy "the husband of my youth," glasses of good wine, sweat in the garden, and making my home beautiful, even as I long for a Home I haven't yet reached.

My circle of friends tends towards the over-spiritualization end of the spectrum.  Sometimes we wonder if we shouldn't live with the absolute minimum in order to give more away, or whether it's ok to save some of your salary for your retirement (is that trusting God?)... Whether fasting and praying isn't more holy than romancing your husband, or enjoying really good food.  (And I'm not saying we shouldn't buck our culture in those ways, to a degree, we should!  And some are called to live even more radically than others)

But amidst all that wondering and feelings of guilt, I remember these books of the Bible, and it all slides back into perspective.  Yep, your life is brief, the Spirit tells me,-- so enjoy it!  Enjoy it in a way that leaves you ready for its end.  If you aren't ready to meet the Maker, you won't enjoy life fully, anyway.

Work hard; this brings glory to God, joy to you, gives you plenty to give, and allows you to keep blessing your children long after you are dust.  Make friends, especially the kind who will tell you the truth when you don't want to hear it.  Love your wife.  Wear nice clothes, or rather, wear your clothes nicely.  Have a dignity that robes you no matter what you wear.  Make enough to give away.  Treasure the right things, like harmony and familial love, not hoarded wealth.  Don't nag your husband.  Meaning in life isn't to be found in indulgence, asceticism, scholarship, or hedonism, but in knowing your Maker...and if you know Him, you'll truly enjoy everything He's given to the fullest.

When we get "over-spiritual," we really have gotten too narrow a vision, not too Heavenly a one.  We've stopped remembering that we serve the Lord who made the stars sing for joy at their making, who made the sun "like a strong man finishing his race with joy!", that our Savior is the Lord of the Wine who promises to throw a feast like time has never seen before.  He's present with His children in homemaking as much as in Bible translation; in disciplining rebellious toddlers as in risking your health for the heathen.  We forget that it is the very word of His power that holds this "merely" physical world together, every atom, every cell.

Far from making my worship flippant or easy, though, this lends weight to every moment.  I have the calling, the joy, the duty, of seeking the Lord in every thing, in remembering and being concsious of His presence and company in every phone call made, book read, coffee drunk, dish cooked, or diaper changed.  I've got to rely on His sustaining grace and be as open to His direction here as I would be in the jungles of Thailand. This sort of living gives everything more weight.  The weight of glory.

May we never forget that every action holds a parable, if we know the Story-teller.

HutchMoot 2010

Last night around 11 pm, Ryan, Mark T. (a friend from church & neighbor), Eowyn & I got home from the first-ever Hutchmoot, a Christian Creativity conference (I don't really know how else to explain it) I probably should wait a few days to let everything percolate before posting about such a packed weekend...

(This was begun 3 weeks ago, and never finished...blame Paris & Copenhagen for the delay.)

The Hutchmoot began as the brain-child of Pete & Andrew Peterson, growing out of another of their brain children, the Rabbit Room, which is an online community of Storytellers-- artists of all stripes, be they culinary, literary, musical or visual. It in turn is modeled after the room where the Inklings (GK Chesterton, CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, and other folks with real names instead of initials) met, a little room called "The Rabbit Room" at the Oxford pub, "The Eagle & Child."  Andrew Peterson beautifully tells the story of his trip to Oxford & London here.  I love that post because it resonates with me.  I, too, have walked the streets of Oxford, thinking of Aslan, and Harry Potter, and Luthien dancing for Beren, and of God's Severe Mercy in my life and everyone's... I've longed for artistic community, too.  I've felt the whispers of 1000 thoughts seep out of every cobbled stone as I walked the crooked High Street and listened to dozens of bells. 

And then I've come home, gotten married, had a baby, and felt every bit of poetry seep out of my bones.  Well, not every bit-- there are those moments, when I see my baby's glowing grin upon learning a new trick, when I feel the unspeakable Joy that is the precursor to every good poem-- and there certainly have been days of dark greyness, the deep Mourning of which is another heartbeat to True poetry.  Before I met Ryan, I wrote poems all the time.

I remember walking across campus as golden leaves danced in the wind, and feeling words building themselves to poetry in my mind.  I remember laughing with delight at the thought that God had ordained those very leaves to bring ME joy!  I think I lived more Coram Deo then (consciously before the face of God).  I remember using rhythm and rhyme to describe what I couldn't put into mere words; worship, youthful romance, truths teased and wrestled out of Scripture, desperate Hope in dark times, experiences and pleadings with various friends, especially one dearest to me.  Then, my junior year of college, my world imploded.  I have never known darker days, nor do I ever want to.  The Lord brought me through; He carried me, sad poetry and all.

I met Ryan the following summer, and began our fairy-tale-perfect courtship.  I remember sitting in my oh-so-picturesque apartment on St. James Ct, and trying to write a poem describing my journey from stubborn-trust-in-despair to amazed, thankful joy... and I couldn't. It was like I couldn't bear to write of happiness like I had written of grief... like I didn't want to put Ryan in the same category as those who had broken my heart. I put the pen down, and never picked it up again.  In 4 years I haven't written a single poem.  Nor a story... I've voraciously devoured good Stories, but never had the urge to write one.  Deep down, I still felt that I could write, but that I just didn't have any good Story to add.  I prayed "Lord, if you want me to write again, give me a Story or the drive to find one."  In the meantime, I was content using my story-telling ability to make the Testaments come to life for my preschoolers, SS class, VBS and middle school girls' Bible study.

Slowly, though, I've begun to miss written Storytelling.  As my daughter gets older, as my marriage gets both easier and harder, I want to leave a legacy of Story to carry others walking a similar road.  Lately, I've wanted to have a story to write, instead of just realizing I didn't have one.

Ryan writes stories like some people doodle.  He has all sorts of story-ideas, good ones too!, and he writes a character study here, a scene there, and that's it.  He's got fabulous ideas, and notebooks full of bits and pieces of tales I'd love to read... but nothing finished.  Oh, except the fairytale he wrote to ask me to marry him.  I guess he was a little more motivated to finish that one, seeing as how The Question was the ending.  It worked. ;)

We sure love Andrew Peterson, and all the original Rabbit Roomers (the Inklings).  We like to journal and blog, to talk and hear good stories.  Faith & imagination are the topics which first drew me to Ryan. We love reading and music and art fairs and thinking movies and hearing people's stories.  I'd been craving a bit of direction for my one remaining authorial outlet-- this blog-- and maybe this would provide some of that?  Besides, it would be something to do together, and that is usually a good thing.  And the Hutchmoot just sounded SO COOL!!  So we signed up to attend the Hutchmoot, and drove down to Nashville, literally still asking each other why exactly we were here while stuck in traffic on the Nashville turnpike.

After our first amazing meal, I felt like Charlie in Mr Wonka's chocolate factory (we'd just watched Johnny Depp's version the night before), as Mr. Wonka goes down the line of children, describing each one's claim to fame "And you're the little buggar who cracked the system!... You're the one who... You're the one that..."  Then he gets to Charlie: "And you're just lucky to be here, aren't you?"  Swallow.  Yup, that's me.  AP kept referring to us as "Rabbit Roomers" and most of the people we met were authors or aspiring ones, artists or movie critics... every one of THEIR blogs was cool and well-thought-out... and mine... does it even have a point?  And Ryan & I would just look at each other, and tend the baby.

This feeling continued throughout the weekend, but instead of feeling excluded, I felt completely inspired.  These people were people who felt, who appreciated so many of the same things that I do!  "Oh the joy of meeting one who knows the same poems as you!" I was reminded of so many stories I'd forgotten, and amazingly, every one of them brought to mind a friend (or myself) struggling with something.  Maybe in our counseling we should use more stories!!

I'll share the biggest "aha!" moment, then close this rambling tome...hopefully before Eowyn wakes up from her morning nap. :)  SD Smith, Travis Prinzi, and Pete Peterson did a session on struggle and imperfection as part of our characters called "Perfected in Weakness."  I believe it was Travis Prinzi (I'll check once I can get my notes from upstairs...after said baby awakes) who drove home the point that good outcomes ALWAYS come from mercy-God's mercy-, not our merit.  I tend to think that I just have to do the right thing, that when it really counts, I've GOT to obey, or else the gig is up. I tend to despair when I fail... again.  He brought up Lord of the Rings' ending.  Sam and Frodo have been so faithful, so obedient, and have brought the Ring through impossible hardship to the very brink of destruction.  Then, at the moment when obedience really matters-- when Frodo stands to cast it into the fires of Mt. Doom-- he fails.  Instead of casting it in, he negates his whole prior obedience by cradling it to himself, counting it more precious than the whole world and all its good. Gollum shows up and the two begin a fight to the death, as Travis put it, "that's my evil!" "no, MY evil!" "No, MY EVIL!" Great... lots of righteousness going on here... But then, Gollum-- his life spared by Mr. Bilbo out of sheer mercy-- saves them all.  By God's will, he slips and falls, clutching the Ring, into the fire, and both are destroyed.  Mercy, God's mercy, Mr. Bilbo's mercy, saved them all, not Frodo's obedience.  Wow.  Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it.

So I want to write now.  I remember that I don't have to have a great story-- just something that reflects The Story.  I don't have to have it all figured out.  I don't even have to obey perfectly (which is good because I don't)... I do have to cling to Mercy...though even then, It is clinging to me.

As you can see, we came home with LOTS of  new books, and I'm resolved to read with even more intentionality.  I'm starting up my old quote journal!  Ryan & I have been drawn closer by discussion of these things we both love. We've started to read together more, and to talk about our stories.  I keep hoping he'll post on how the Hutchmoot affected him. (nudge, nudge, honey) I've gotten several more great blogs on my BlogReader and they inspire me. I've also been inspired to seek beauty in all my work, even in little blog posts.  So I hope you will see more "every-day musing" style posts up here, and probably more organization in when I post on more topical...topics =D (i.e. Tuesdays- Theological Musings, or something of that sort), or at the very least better tags... We're motivated to get http://MamaSzrama.com/books up (that book review site I've mentioned) & running ASAP.I'm also even more excited about attending the Relevant 2010 Blogging conference!! I guess biggest of all, for both Ryan & I, is the desire to be more of a part of the amazing creative communit(ies) available to us.  I want to maximize our marriage's potential for creative community, maximize our Louisvillian surroundings and the similarly-inclined friends we already have here (you know who you are), and I want to be more available to the online communities I have- Rabbit Room, Relevant, and even this little webcorner, Eowyn's Heir.  I guess that's kind of why I went into so much background info, so that all of you reading this, from wherever you are, might know me a little more.  That's a scary thought... but I think it's part of every good story.  The protagonist has to be known, right?