return to sender

rather than wearing something old, new, borrowed and blue for my wedding, i took the opportunity to write a letter of appreciation to each of my old, new, borrowed and blue families, each named after its representative subset. my "old" family is my church family, being represented by a group of folks i lovingly refer to as "my old people." these hoary-headed church members are simply a delight to be around, and i always look forward to sharing their company around a table for wednesday night dinners. in exchange, they shared their joy, their stories, their wisdom, their encouragement, their experience- in short, it was not a fair trade by any means. they were totally ripped off.

at some point in the past year-ish (?) our church began a more intentional push to return some blessing to our elder members, especially those who are home-bound, sick, or living alone, by setting out cards, envelopes, and a list of their names so that we could write them notes of encouragement. if we learned anything in 2020, it was how soul-deadening that level of isolation can be (and also to wash your filthy disgusting hands, but that's another soapbox… ).

anyway, i know personally several of those names, and recognized several others, so i grabbed a members list and a pile of cards, used the excuse to buy cool new pens, and i began my "experiment."  i'd try to write a set number each week, and as soon as i heard anyone was calling the church to inquire about what weirdo was stalking them with random cards, i'd stop- or at least sign someone else's name (JK!  jk….)

bunny trail: this is what enneagram 5s do. we call new ventures "experiments" so that if it turns out to be a colossal failure we don't have to blame ourselves.

it was awkward at first. because seriously, who does this anymore? what do i say to someone i haven't seen in person for months, or more, or who is decades older, who i don't have much in common with? like, "hey, how are you- i just spent an hour cleaning crayon off every surface in the living room." i doubted anyone would care very much. but maybe they'd still like to remember what it was like to chase toddlers around, or look up the Bible verse i stuck in there, or smile at the animal stamp i stuck in the corner (i just had to. these stamps are too darn cute to not be put on absolutely everything i can).

but then something weird happened. a lady i'd never, ever spoken directly to found me one sunday and said a teary-eyed thank you. the next wednesday 2 women that i did know quite well said the same- one had a mother who received a card; the second was a widow who happened to get her card around the same time of year her husband died. a 94-year old hobbled down the long children's wing to find me, tell me some of her life story and give me a hug. (and then another elderly fellow said how much he appreciated the christmas card, because now he knew who the heck had been writing these cards, so it worked!)

but then something else happened. i got an email from the church secretary saying she didn't send one of the cards because the recipient had just passed away.

and its happened twice more. my "old people" leaving me before i was quite ready to say goodbye- i'd barely said hello to one of them. i was reminded of one of my memory verses, hebrews 12:1- "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witness…" that cloud is a bit larger now, and heavy with their love, joy, and faithfulness. ms. clara- she was the first to write a letter of congratulations after my engagement, from her nursing home, no less. she had absolutely pure white hair, enabling her to wear NEON shirts and look AWESOME. mr. lynn- he came every week by the college students' pew, asking each of us if we were staying around after graduation. he was ecstatic when he found out i was. his wife, ms pat- she is getting a card this week. she sang in the choir, and smiled big enough for the entire soprano section. ms. janice took the plunge and joined facebook, tracking and commenting on my posts faithfully until covid called her heavenward. mr morris, ms sandy, ms mollie… ms pat is the only one here i can still write to.

and then this week happened.

i knew it was off to a bad start when i woke up to nik asking what to do with the kiddo who wandered into the work room covered in cute baby barf and asked for mo doos? cuppeese? (more juice? cup please?).  as i flushed away my entire day's plans, i received news that someone close to me had a possibly bad medical issue, a sister had tornado watches in effect, and that i would never be able to have that video call to my grandad i was planning.

i was nowhere near as consistent with calling him as i've been with these letters. i knew that he closely followed us on facebook, and thought of him with every post i've made, but it's not the same as a two-way conversation where he can share, too. this is more of a loss than anyone who didn't know him could understand. more than 90 years old, his mind was remarkably intact and every conversation with him brought forth more memories, stories, humorous anecdotes, and thoughts.

once the barfing baby stopped, i was able to clean (eVeRyThINg) up, sit down, and breathe. since i'd already written my week's homebound letters, i've decided to write one more, even though this one won't get mailed, either.

dear grandad,

hey- how are you? i just spent a day cleaning baby barf smell off every surface in … basically the whole house. it's a good thing your great grandkid is so cute. i remember when we first told you she was on her way, and the loss i felt when two days later my monday crumbled with news of grandmother's death. i was glad for the 4-day weekend that let us travel to you for her funeral. well, what do you know? two days after hearing about how you were doing, my monday crumbled.

except not really. it shook a bit, but stayed upright. this 4-day weekend won't let me come say the "official" goodbye, but i feel like we've sent those same thoughts back and forth already. i treasure the picture of you meeting bugaboo for the first time, and the joy on both of your faces. that "hello" memory is so much better than any "goodbye" memory i could get now at your funeral.

i kinda knew. i'm bummed, but not surprised. in fact, my first instinctive reaction was, "finally" (wait before you judge me)! my second was, "i still had that one question for him."

i won't get an answer, but i may as well ask anyway. besides, i already have a couple new ones for you.

first, of course, is "how is grandmother?" i already know the first place you ran to was that heavenly throne and the One who sits upon it. there is no way for you to describe Him, which is why i'm not asking about it. the apostle john did his best, and we all see how that turned out; i doubt even as good a storyteller as you could do better. there aren't words to express the emotions you must have gone through when your faith became sight and your immortal eyes were hit with that blaze of Glory. i imagine that's where you found her. i want so badly to know how she looks and how she's been spending this first part of eternity. was she able to watch you join a heavenly music band for a song or two? did you share a laugh about ditching that walker you both used, before you ran hand in hand down some heavenly sidewalk?

tell me about your "mansion," would you? when i said goodbye to your old home last april, i remember wondering at how small it was- practically a cottage, really. in all my memories it's several times larger! i could hear in every word you spoke that the house was getting smaller and smaller to you, too. just like my "old people," i watched you live out your faith day by day, making excellent use of your time on earth, but increasingly eager to leave it. once grandmother left, no place on earth would ever be "home." that little house was practically a mansion to us- mostly because of the enormous amount of love you and grandmother cram-jammed into it, and i'm just curious what i'll see when i finally get to visit you again.

of much less importance, but still: i have GOT to hear the story behind that freakishly gigantic safety pin on your little shelf of knick-knacks. we'd talked about you telling me about each one as i asked over calls or texts… but somehow we never got around to those. i'm having one of those cliché "ah, what i wouldn't give for one more conversation" moments. i just loved basically every story you ever told (especially the medical ones), and even small or simple every day moments had shades of legend when you told them. and let's be real- a 5 inch safety pin is not an everyday item; i refuse to believe the background story is anything less than hysterical. it's my fault for not just asking ages ago.

as long as i'm asking imaginary questions in an imaginary letter, i'll toss this one in, too: ARE THERE DINOSAURS UP THERE?!? no, but really!! if there's a new heaven and a new earth, and the first one was perfect (at least for a few verses), i'm hoping the new perfect earth has them as well. and if there are dinosaurs, are there cats- cats that look like the ones we've known here? maybe only the ones we liked…. i know animals don't have souls, and there will be perfect joy and peace in heaven, Jesus is all we need… but man, having a pet dinosaur to ride in heaven would be basically the coolest thing ever.

don't judge me. okay, maybe judge me a little bit.

i've got a bunch of your day lilies planted here. there are some on each side of the house, to maximize my chances of not killing most of them. now i just need to put some kind of garden border around them, to maximize the lawn guy's chances of not killing the rest. so far, most of them grew back, even after being mowed down a few times. i'm hoping, hoping it works out, and that they will be a reminder for many, many years to come.

a reminder to ask questions, write letters, learn from and listen to the people close to us, because we are never guaranteed another day to do so.

a reminder that every day is precious and we are called to be good stewards of our time and relationships.

a reminder that beyond this life is another one, a far better one, a life where the day lilies last as long as, well, that never-ending day.

a reminder to "lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely," so i can "run the race set before [me], looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of [my] faith," to someday join my "no-longer-old people" at the finish line.

a reminder that in the midst of that "great cloud of witnesses" there is now yet another one: one i miss seeing here a little, but look forward to seeing again a lot. once i spend a few thousand years with Jesus, i'm gonna take my pet dino for a walk past your mansion and we'll have eternity to catch up.

tell grandmother i say "hello." 

learning to help, helping to learn

my child is The Worst Helper in the World. she's my favorite helper hands down, but also just the worst. for most chores or household tasks, i would suggest asking assistance of almost any other human being, and possibly a few woodland animals, before asking her. at least, if your goal was to have that chore or task completed in a neat, timely, and organized manner. we knew the likely outcome of our short time volunteering at the local food pantry and thrift store, but we also knew that we have been called to serve others and not wait 18 years and so she would have to come along- and we wanted to bring her. thus, we all bundled into the car last saturday morning, put on our "volunteer" lanyards, and were put to work stocking the thrift store side with shopping carts loaded with hygiene items, scarves, and kitchen appliances, and also getting stuff price tagged in the warehouse side. for the first 15 minutes she sat in a cart and played with some hats and soap bars. that was beautiful. the rest of the time i helped nik for 20 seconds at a time in between chasing her down, feeding her, and watching her wander the aisles to smile and wave at other volunteers.

 

but, as you know, finding yourself responsible for keeping a small person safe, happy and healthy takes all your everythings and turns them wonky. so this new reality is to be expected, and hopefully enjoyed as much as possible. it usually involves a lot of *not crying over spilled [any container's contents. any of them- all- will get dumped]* and focusing on finding the humor in any unforeseen mishap short of blatant sin. for instance, when i check the temp of the shower water and discover that my small person has stockpiled 2 months' worth of toilet paper behind the curtain before her nap, well. there's not much else to do except be glad it's not still on national back-order like 3 years ago.

 

so now my goal is much less often to do *anything* in a neat, timely and organized manner. if you know anything at all about the whole enneagram concept, you will recognize that for a 5, this is … a "growing opportunity." (read: "she is often annoyed to the point of seizure-like spasms.") but grow i must, because i've got a small person following me- literally and metaphorically.

 

this does not mean that my goal is to do things in a haphazard, sloppy, time-consuming way. it does mean that my goal now has nothing to do with time or neatness. my goal is to teach this small person behind me- and not just how to do tasks like cleaning, cooking, weeding, grocery shopping. that's relatively easy. but teaching how to be kind, honest, loving, joyful, patient? quite a different story.

 

and that's mostly because small people learn 'doing' and 'having' by example, and showcasing my kindness, honesty, service, joy and patience gets really difficult on days when i'm running on fumes and don't have much to display. teaching kindness means i have to be kind, even/especially when she can only answer questions by shrieking or smiling, or when she hides my hairbrush in a basket of tea bags in kentucky, or defiantly rejects her juice sippy cup in favor of a jar of dirt. teaching honesty means i have to be honest, even/especially when it's a billion times easier to dodge the truth, like when i make a mistake and have to admit it (and yes, even if she's not talking yet, it is indeed much harder to apologize in front of her). teaching service often means serving with her there, even/especially when it's inconvenient, awkward, "dirty," time-wasting, or possibly "risky." she did absolutely nothing of tangible value at the food pantry/thrift store. in fact, she cut our productivity by at least 45%.

 

bunny trail: no, i am not saying a toddler comes with me absolutely everywhere. but she came with us to RiFA and waved hi to several other volunteers and customers, and she comes on most visits to neighbors and friends, regardless of their race, gender, living situation or socioeconomic status. just because there 'might be risks' on the other side of town does not let me exclude her from "helping" us serve at the homeless food pantry.

 

we decided months ago that there are some things that we want her to have ingrained in her by the time her brain is actually creating memories. we do not want her to learn her abc's before she has at least an inkling of the value of ministry. we would be thrilled if she never knew a life that did not include sacrificial giving or meeting needs of others whenever possible (not 'convenient.'). we are probably less "useful" to God than bugaboo is to us, but as we learn love and service by following Him, we are tasked with leading her in that direction also. the spiritual fruit He grows in us is far more valuable than any paycheck, donation, or tax return.

 

our secondary desire is that as she follows and learns great qualities like patience, joy, honesty and all that good stuff, she also happens to learn how to actually be a help rather than the delightful force of chaos that she is now. and when the time comes that she notices a calling towards a particular area of service, i hope that i then respond by encouraging her to use her gifts to their fullest extent- again, even if it is inconvenient to me. so she sits on the vacuum head when i clean, she pokes and swats flowers when i weed, she puts all of her clean, folded laundry in her ball pit, and simply can't handle having any sandwich bag left behind in the cabinet. every day is another 500 or so chances to live out both the character traits and physical tasks we desire her to take in and cultivate. as she learns to help me, i help her to learn. it's not an even swap- not by a long shot. but since it's the way God taught, i know it's far better for both of us.

 

so i'll help her learn (hopefully). and she'll learn to help (hopefully).  and God's math means that He can take my significantly decreased productivity levels and do wonders, as bugaboo follows me following Him, day by day, chore by chore, step by step.

the wonder

 there are some things you "know."

and then there are things that you know.

and things that you "know" that you don't know yet, but will.

 

quintessential example: parenthood

it's no duh that suddenly having a new tiny person in the household changes everything. absolutely everything. there is zero percent of your life that is untouched by this status change. now, I "knew" this before march.

but then march came, and with it, the wonder that is called parenthood. that's when I knew. 

 

comparison: remember that one time senator walsh put her foot in her mouth and implied that nurses sit around and play cards all day? yeah. the myriad memes that arose from that comment caused millions of people to chuckle who knew that nurses also probably do work sometimes, but brought an uproar of bellowing laughter from nurses because they knew what they spent their shift doing. 

 

I'm on the second side of all the parenting memes now. can't say I don't enjoy it though. it's not only been encouraging, but also enlightening. and also a little embarrassing. I've heard a billion times (because it's true) that your kid will reveal to you all kinds of things you didn't know about yourself. what I didn't hear is that this unfortunate behavior starts MUCH earlier than I thought, like by 6 months. can't walk, can't talk, can't feed or dress herself, but lil' bugaboo is now thoroughly convinced that there is no book, toy, song, food, or animal that compares to the flat, black rectangle I carry around with me. I know this is only the beginning, but that definitely shamed me into spending less time on my phone when she is around. 

 

more positively, I have also regained a sense of simple wonder. how would I define "wonder"? well, now I would describe wonder as everything expressed by a baby encountering grass for the first time. she could not take her eyes off the long green blades all around her. she held her hands in front of her and kept running them through those tiny leaves, so fascinated that she was oblivious to me, even as I was holding her. and it was grass- GRASS, for pete's sake! but it's incredible to watch, because it gives me an excuse to get down on her level- literally- and be excited about things like spoons, flower petals, bath water splashes, and toes. 

 

at some point she's going to get all mature and boring and just walk on through the fallen leaves without slowing down. it might be another 30 years before she remembers how cool grass is. 

 

I'm guessing that it will get harder every year, but there are some things I don't ever want her to lose her wonder at- christmas, for example. how incredible is it: an omnipotent Deity who is larger than time, confines Himself to a human body. He reduces Himself to the humblest of all persons and spends His first night in a box full of goat food, because Airbnb wasn't a thing yet. (even if it had been, joseph wasn't made of denarii. he ain't affording all those charges!!) the sky over sheep-filled fields exploded with heavenly beings who sent a pile of shepherds- humans created in the image of God- to gaze in wonder at God, who had just been born in the image of man. God made good on His ancient promise to deliver humanity from the soul-crushing weight of sin.

 

we grow up "knowing" about life on this world, until we come to know true Life that continues in heaven for eternity. God, Who knows everything, chose to limit Himself for a time to "knowing," experiencing in a physical body things like scraped knees, stomach bugs, wrestling matches with brothers, hugs from a mother, family vacations, homework, splinters, bullies… 

 

I want this kid of mine to only grow more amazed at this miracle. the look of quiet, happy awe that she had when she saw her fake little christmas tree is the look I want her to give to Jesus when she comes to know Him. and I want that to be soon. I want her to only "know" things I came to know in my circuitous route to Him. 

 

dear bugaboo, that promise God made to adam and eve just after the first screw-up has been fulfilled, so that His second promise to you could come true as well. that's why we celebrate christmas. look at those twinkle lights on that fake little tree and know that the True Light is here to draw you to Himself. open the presents and remember that the eternal Presence is with you, just for the asking. so ask, that you may receive! keep your wonder- feed it, care for it, and let it grow unrestrained at this marvel. 

 

know about christmas, know Christ, and celebrate accordingly, with the same joy as the angels. 

 

 

glory in mediocrity

naps are simply wasted on babies.

they don't like them; they don't use them. and worst of all, there is no way for them to give them to their parents, who would truly appreciate even a 30-minute nap and pay the infant's weight in gold for the ability to redeem a ruined naptime.

 

while mourning the loss of my ability to take a nap when i want, this strange fact of reality has meant that i have also had to develop what i only know to call "glory in the mediocrity." glory meaning that just as plants glorify God by growing, planets glorify Him by spinning through the empty void of space a million miles an hour, and cats glorify Him by running into walls (ours, anyway), so i glorify God by weeding the garden.

 

ha ha- you know that's a bald-faced lie. i weeded half the garden. and by "weeded" i mean, "i at least removed half of the weeds visible from space."

 

if it's not too bold of me to say, i glorified Him by using those 14 minutes as best i could, and yesterday that meant weeding. and He multiplied my minutes x2, because by some fluke the lil boss accidentally slept for about 28 minutes instead of her usual 9.

 

it is not even close to the best half-done-weeding job. i was tempted to leave some of those plants because they clearly wanted to be in the garden waaaay more than i did. one of them was simply massive, and even had some lame-o blue flowers to try to fit in with the flower bush i actually wanted there. to be honest, i was tempted to leave every last one of the weeds there, because i knew i wouldn't have time to do it all- giving me the perfect excuse to wait until i had 3 hours (which would be never). but at least as far as the garden goes, God didn't want me to do the whole thing- but He wanted me to do something.

 

this 3-month old reality of mine means i will probably never do anything at all again without at least 4 interruptions. in fact, she herself WAS a major life interruption. even a bathroom trip requires more strategy than it would at work on a 13-hour shift. the idea of a complete nap or a bubble bath or reading a complete chapter of a book is laughable. my drawing will possibly be done when bugaboo is school-age, at this rate. as will her baby book.  and because we are gluttons for self-inflicted punishment, we are about to take this cute little life interruption on a several-hundred-mile-long road trip. i can't wait to see how this goes.

 

but it will go. not sure how well, but it will go. we are going to try to do however much or little we can with each day He gives us. He's not looking for perfection; that's His job. He's looking for those who trust and obey, who go step by step in faith. for those who point to our mediocre flower garden like a toddler holding up a crayon picture to show his parents, knowing that they will stick it to their fridge and treasure it- not because it's beautiful (because it is not. objectively, there is less value in the picture than a fresh sheet of paper has), but because they treasure the one who did it.

 

so far, i have found zero parables in which the one Jesus finds favor with is perfect. prodigal son? nope. not by a long shot. but he did finally come home. "son #2"? nope. but he did finally go and do the work he said he wouldn't bother doing. good samaritan? he probably could have done more… but he was the one who did something.  the latest group of vineyard workers? they only worked for, like, an hour.  but they did work that hour.

 

none of these say Jesus thinks laziness is a virtue. but they do say He thinks it glorifies Him when we do what we can, when we can, for Him. not sure when He wants me to work on the other half of the garden (maybe before the first half is overgrown again?), but i do know when He wants me to take care of lil' miss interruption, and when to focus on Him, and when to rejoice in every tiny nap He provides. 

 

confessions of a horrible "southern housewife"

 it's that time of year again: yep, the beginning. 

 

new year resolutions are a common conversation starter, self-help and diet books fly off shelves, and [dozens of] gyms see a brief spike in attendance. the joy and charity of the christmas season come to a screeching halt, to be replaced by a period of intense frustration, busy-ness and criticism that is somehow spun as a good thing. the "acceptable" standards of beauty, wealth, education, fashion, health, politics- you name it- are literally broadcast across the nation by which each individual "should" judge themselves. if it's a thing you "should" have, it'll be on sale. if it's a belief you should have, the book is released this week. if you "need" to change or do anything, you will see commercials, ads, billboards and people you know telling you just how far you are "behind the Joneses." we, as a collective, have become trained to find every deficiency in ourselves possible, and somehow choose only the worst 2 or 3 to "fix" in a calendar year. and we all do this, each knowing in the back of his mind that there's a slim chance any true change will occur; we will be the same messed up "failures" in december that we are in january (and don't you dare ask a friend how their resolutions are coming any point after valentine's day at the latest).

 

i've seen more than enough hgtv shows to know that i do not, nor ever will, meet anyone's standards for a stereotypical "southern" housewife. i know there's a pretty high chance i could work my way up to that level, were it demanded of me, but it would take ages, and i would *not* be fit for society with how tired and bitter i would have become.

i also know that my application to Southern Housewife School would be laughed at if a gpa were replaced with dusting frequency or a pot roast recipe. dust bunnies? let's try dust giraffes or dust mastodons. it's been on my to-do list for such a long time that i don't even write it down anymore, because i know myself too well.

and that's just one standard i "fail" to live up to. i haven't even gotten to the standards for beauty, savings account, car model, political knowledge, citizenship, or marriage. i can now add parenting standards to the list, in case i wasn't tempted to feel bad enough about who i am.

 

so what's a person to do?!? well, there's good news and bad news. 

the good news is that the answer is crazy-easy.   

the bad news is that the answer is so easy it's nearly impossible.

to sum up in an easy-to-remember way: "make like a tree and leaf."  yup. that's it. be like a tree. a little tree- a vine, even.

 

to explain:

 

i had a friend who went through a period of substantial change in her life- physically, financially, mentally. it was excellent for her. near the end of that period, i saw her reading a self-help book; it was apparently not as good as the last one she'd read that left her similarly disappointed and un-self-helped. so i referred her to one of my own favorite "self-help" books, and to one small section in particular.

 

this particular small section tells the anecdote of another single-ish woman who is very familiar with every new year's resolution-er.  she knows because she has failed at…. dern near everything by this point, truly. her life sucks. she's lonely, she can't keep a relationship, is not flush with cash, and meets nobody's standards of anything ever.

as she is running an errand one hot day, she meets a stranger hanging out who is oddly conversational.

 

stranger: hey- wanna sit and have a drink with Me?

her: sure- let's talk about religion and politics and let me go about my day.

stranger: I'd rather talk about all of your failed new year resolutions and how exhausted you are by your life that's as worn out as your shoes. clearly, promising yourself to "exercise more" every year is not working, and you can't even get a decent guy to date.

her: … no but really, religion and politics is way less embarrassing. and why would you remind me of those resolutions? it's april...

stranger: but what if I told you that I could fix every last one of those "failures" and make your tattered life look and feel more like brand-new and never-ending, and that all you had to do was ask me?

her: keep talking….

(refer to John 4)

 

you have to read a couple more chapters before this stranger spills more of His secret to a few other unpopular societal embarrassments. what is the secret? "make like a vine and leaf."

He even says, "you are a vine. act like it."

(refer to John 15)

 

what does a vine do? well, not much.  it's attached to the ground, so it can't travel to the gym or organic food section in kroger. it's attached to its little fence or trellis so it can't maneuver toward the sunshine, flash its expensive new gadget in your face, or flex muscles to squeeze out its little grapes or berries.  it might be able to compare itself to other vines nearby, but whatever standards of height, branch length, leaf green-ness, fruit size or hydration levels this poor vine does/doesn't meet… there's zilch it can do about it. this vine is utterly dependent on God- for everything.

the vine just… is. the roots go down, the vine goes up, and the leaves go out.

 

am i saying that we shouldn’t care about anything? nope. 

or that we ignore to-do lists and familial or societal responsibilities? not at all. 

do we never consider our lives and if there are adjustments or maybe even radical changes we should make? no.

 

but what i am saying is that those changes shouldn't be in response to comparing ourselves to others, or others' ideas of what our own lives should look like. if we make changes, they should be toward the True Vine's example.  the standards we are judged by are those of the Vinedresser- *not* the other vines. those standards are related to the fruit each vine produces.  and we all know that a vine can't even decide to do that- it's up to the Vinedresser to make sure each vine gets enough water and sunshine and space and nutrients.

as soon as we recognize our utter inability to "fix" ourselves, we realize that we have been given the freedom to… live. we live and grow as best we can with the circumstances God places us in, and then…. we live.

 

the stranger, who is Jesus (surprise!) tells that poor, exhausted, lonely, sinful woman that her only requirement is to ask. if she asks Him to provide, renew, change, sanctify her life, He will. that's literally all He tells her.and it's all He tell us. when we look to Him, and say, "fix it... i just can't," He does!

it takes longer than 12 months, but it also lasts a hekuvalot longer than the 3 weeks i foresee my gym 's parking lot being so full.

 

it is also heaps less depressing.

because i know already that me and my sanity don't and can't survive the scrutiny of the multitudes of excellent proper southern housewives. i admire their abilities- to the point of envy, sometimes. but i also know that my Vinedresser has given me other standards and conditions. He saw fit to bring a baby into this household with dust monsters on the ceiling fans and crazy cats on the floors. He provided our budget and house and neighborhood and diets and health situations, and He wants us to use those as best we can. He's super not-concerned with how we would handle anyone else's life, or how they would handle ours. and if He's not worrying about it, neither should we.

 

if we abide ('live") in Him, He will make sure that we bear fruit that meets all of His standards- no self-contempt necessary!

 

make this the year you stop the self-flagellation and grow in God's sunshine- let Him grow some amazing, eternal changes in your life.  replace the dreary weariness with a peace that surpasses understanding, and praise the God who loves us complete failures so much that He "fixes" us into His own glorious image. now that's something I can celebrate every year!

"mary, did you kn-" yes. she did.

 a few weeks ago i was finally able to see my bestie again, for the first time in an embarrassingly long time. as in, long enough to grow half a person. i think it was near the beginning of our 7.5 hour-long lunch date that she asked me what hopes and dreams nik and i had for that unexpected half-a-person. if the kid ever reads this, i hope she takes this the right way, because i said i really had no idea at all. partly because i don't do well with open-ended questions like that. partly because even that many weeks later i had not fully recovered from the reality of the situation, which turns out to not have been medically impossible.

 

bunny trail: this is now the second time a doctor has looked at my face and told it that the current situation was medically impossible, with a second doctor affirming. not sure what to do with that, but…

 

i'm guessing mary might have recognized the feelings, at least somewhat. she had a few more weeks' head's up notice than me, but that wouldn't have really helped her out much. her situation being even more assuredly impossible than mine, i don't envy her that conversation with her parents. i hope that maybe an angel was on hand then, too. even if nazareth was as busy and diverse as some texts state, as soon as she started showing she became "that girl" to every "good" jew in the area. roman rule claimed sole authority over capital punishment (the penalty for adultery under the mosaic law), but nothing said a radical bunch of jews couldn't arrange an accident to avoid a public scandal, or at least disown her and chuck her to the curb. it's doubtful anyone sat down with her and asked all about her hopes and dreams for the future.  and if by chance she did get to chat, the conversation probs didn't last much past, "oh yeah- He's gonna save the world from sin and His Father is God in heaven. an angel said so."

 

that's a shame, because she would have had -quite literally- the best answer in the universe to that question, and she didn't even have to come up with it on the fly. the song "mary did you know?" must be rhetorical, because she did know. even if she was unaware of a number of particulars, she got the gist of it. and the gist was delivered to her in person, straight from the mouth of a heavenly angel. the words of that gist carried her through several months of tiredness, sickness, heartburn, mocking, tears, loneliness, and hurt. oh yes, and moving in with her new husband who nearly ended their engagement over this "impossibility." so, no pressure, girl. i can't do much more than imagine, but every kick and somersault she felt probably reminded her of those words, equally stunning and reassuring.

 

i'm twice the age she was, and every bit as unprepared. i am under no delusion that i have even a fraction of this under control. bugaboo will probably be at least 2 before she realizes she's not a cat like her older "siblings," and stops trying to lick them clean, drink from their water fountain or chew on the houseplants. mary didn't have to worry about things like vaccine schedules or each year's new car seat regulations. but she did have to worry about being the earthly parent to a Deity (and then at least 6 of the Deity's siblings…).  *gives the District 12 salute*

 

this little bugaboo has developed her own daily routine which includes a morning and evening round of calisthenics and at least one period of wind sprints and tai kwon do. as of 8 days ago, these high kicks are now visible.  nik is hoping for a future soccer player, and from all appearances, his wish has been granted.

yeah, it's a lot easier when the pressure's off us. it's not like bugaboo is gonna turn the world on its ear and change the entire course of humanity.

 

dear bugaboo, nope, i don't have any promises or guarantees. no messages from shining angelic messengers. no legends or portents or prophecies. but this advent season as i watch our charlie brown christmas tree twinkle, crinkle, and wither away before my eyes, here are a couple hopes and dreams for your future:

 

i hope you grow up always hearing more and more about this other completely unexpected baby and who He grew up to be.

 

i hope you come to understand what He did and why He did it. i hope you understand it in such a deep and personal way that you are knocked to your knees before Him in praise and awe.

 

i hope you don't hate me for not being whatever kind of saint that mary is pictured as being, because i for sure am not, and i want to prepare you for the all-but-inevitable possibility that i will screw up at least as much as she did, and then some.

 

i hope you grow in stature, in wisdom, and in favor with God and man.

 

i hope that even when your earthly parents royally screw up, we still direct your heart toward your heavenly Father, who has never, ever screwed up, and in His divine wisdom put you under our care for a time.

 

i hope that once you start walking, wherever your very (very) active and kick-y feet take you, people there sense the presence of the One who gave you to us, that we pray dwells in you forever.

 

i hope that once you start talking, your mouth is full of praise and that you communicate daily with your Creator God.

 

i hope that once you start school, you hang out with normal people, lonely people, "ugly" people, simple people- all kinds of people- and help them to know and feel that they are loved, by you but especially by Jesus.

 

i hope that each year as you break ornaments higher and higher on the christmas tree, the meaning of advent becomes a bit more real and true for you. 

 

merry christmas, bugaboo

a good and faithful servant

 

apparently i have too much time on my hands, because i really did just google search how many 'world’s best grandmother' mugs are sold each year. turns out google doesn't know everything, or at least it doesn't hang on to irrelevant data like that. so i didn't get an answer, but i do know that more than 1 grandmother has that mug of status, and that mine did not. i can only conclude that all of the mugs are lying to their owners.

i know that the majority of grandmothers are indeed wonderful women who have played a crucial role in the lives of their families. far be it from me to scorn anyone who has achieved the rank of "Grandmother." however, it’s not only the things she did, but the traits of hers that they demonstrate, that serve as evidence of her enduring greatness.

 

she was reliable, diligent, strong - she did whatever needed to be done. returning from a toy story trip during one of her new york visits, we found ourselves locked out. at least as it goes in my memory, without missing a beat or batting an eye, she took a rock and broke the window to reach through and unlock the door. the title "Grandmother" reached new levels of awe. i was sick in a hospital outside NYC on "the" 9/11. every eye in the country was glued to the nearest tv- except mine when Grandmother walked into my room for her pre-arranged visit, right when she said she'd be there, with a gift in hand. she had family members she felt called to minister to, and nobody was going to shut down the subways until she reached her destination. i don't ever remember getting a birthday or valentine's day card late- including 2008, which was the year my alma mater was flattened by an F4 tornado. i stayed in town for the extra 2-week break and grabbed the few envelopes from my mailbox on the way out of the main building, not recognizing that it was valentine's day. i looked up and saw a backhoe depositing a dorm's remains into a giant dumpster, and looked down to see Grandmother's card in my hand. with all the thanksgiving dinners and church suppers she's pulled off, i shouldn't have been surprised.  

 

she was protective, loyal- she drew her boundaries, and woe betide the soul that trespassed onto her territory. her family was solidly under that protective banner; whoever dared to mess with one of her grandkids would live to regret it, and probably apologize for it as well. during the aforementioned hospital visit, there were at least two instances where a doctor or technician forgot their place. luckily for them, Grandmother was right there, ready and willing to point them in the right direction. she saw a need of mine and became my advocate to make sure that need was met. then she got some pound cake from the hospital cafeteria for us to share. it tasted like victory. if terrorists and tornadoes can't divert her plans, i'm not sure why a mere radiologist would expect to stand a chance.

 

she was generous, self-sacrificial, unassuming- the things that came out of that sewing room are legendary (or at least they should be). it's not like i ever heard people singing her praise in the streets, but every time we visited i'd hear another story of someone she helped, encouraged, or gave a handmade gift to. i don't know how many dolls she sewed dresses for, but i do know of at least a dozen barbies that boasted a very full wardrobe, including indian costumes, colonial garb, wedding dresses, play clothes, and at least one very yellow one-piece pantsuit outfit i couldn't ever figure out the purpose for. the indian and colonial clothes came with life-size duplicates for me and my sister to wear. i wish i knew her final fabric yardage count, or how many miles of thread she turned into blessings for other people.

 anya and i spent hours by the christmas tree one year, performing every test possible without actually picking up the matching boxes- wondering if they could possibly contain the american girl dolls we'd asked for. they did.

at least once every school year, in addition to birthdays and holidays, we'd get a big old box from richmond.  we'd find outfits, or books and toys relating to our school studies, or bags of candy we could all share each night the next potty-training kid had a successful day.

 

she was practical, humble, faithful- even in her generosity, she didn't waste things like time, little moments, socks. visits with her included experiences like my first plane ride, my first train ride, after-dinner bingo competitions with lifesavers as prizes, feeding the geese at the park (back before everybody learned just how bad bread is for them…oops.), and watching disney movies before bed. she'd rescue our favorite pants by making cute little patches out of unmatched socks to cover the holes. she made us eat our cottage cheese by serving it with fruit, but we knew there was always dessert. she made us go to bed at a halfway decent hour, but sometimes we could sleep downstairs under the dining table (back before the time i woke up once and saw the scariest face of all history that is carved into that chair in the living room; no offense to the chair or its maker, but it's downright creepy). she knew wax paper was just what you needed to make gumdrop cookies. she also knew wax paper was perfect for making kids go airborne as they shoot off the huge metal slide at the playground (back before everybody realized kids were fragile and helpless and eliminated all the good playground equipment). she made time for us, and she didn't waste it. every little interaction has the opportunity to be a positive or negative experience. she did her best to make them all positive.

 

it's because of a life like this- filled to the brim with an active multi-faceted love- that Grandmother earns a spot among the elite. if she's not the best, she at least ranks with the finalists. i won't know til i get there what she's doing up in heaven now, but i can't help but assume her life up there is only a fuller and brighter expression of these, and many other, qualities that composed her life down here. i'm convinced she's up there making sure the whole Second Coming celebration goes without a hitch. every saint's robe is going to fit perfectly- maybe trimmed with ribbon… or a sock…- and every course of the feast will be worth another song of praise to the Savior she served daily. and it's a life i want to emulate- one deserving of the highest compliment a human could dream of: "well done, good and faithful servant. you have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. enter into the joy of your Master."