Overtures

"My new phone has a reject call feature with text messaging." "That's cool. But I don't even know what that means."

"Like I can reject a call and the person will receive a text message. I'll have to write some automated text messages."

"Like 'Busy, banging my wife'?"

"Um, yeah. Like that."

***

I have felt utterly exhausted by the last two weeks. I've been pushing through a couple of projects that were, in themselves, behemoths. I've been stressed and cranky and waking up thinking it was Sunday, only to horrifiedly realize it was Tuesday. I've showered the absolute minimum that a first world citizen can shower without receiving deodorant samples sent anonymously to my mailbox. Yet. And I entered into a new, financially imprudent love affair with the creme brulee latte (with soy!) at Sixbucks. My lands, is that the tonic of the gods.

*** I recently discovered we have the Gospel channel. This is not your standard Jaysus channel. It has really good programming! Not just Southern evangelical preachers trying to drain your pockets. It's good! Not that I could name a single Gospel artist, but they have a lot of contempo Christian concerts. I've watched the Jars of Clay concert twice already. Excellent. Even though the lead singer is dressed like Mark from "Rent" sans the hipster glasses. I think they are a highly underrated band. Their albums are all quite different in sound but the lyrics are consistently excellent; they are good studies of the uncliched faith journey.

*** In the midst of this end-of-semester distress and the condition of what Loverpants called "living under a rock; you didn't even know Gisele and Tom had their baby two days ago?!" I have really been moved by moments of sweetness from my family. The moments with Baby Girl when she takes her little pincers to my cheeks and, pinching the Cabbage Patchy flesh of my face, says, "Cheeksies! You so cute!" The moments when I don't at all deserve a hug and Loverpants gives me several in a morning.

I have also been returning again and again to Micah 5. I never knew how explicit the birth of the Christ child was, in prescription and spirit. That He would be born in the smallest of the tribes, that He would release Israel, and that He would be their peace.

In the last two weeks of fitful sleep and ever-expanding belly, I have called upon this peace to continue to reign in my heart and mind. I think of the sweetness of holding my own baby, and just the profundity of the Lord sending His own baby to earth to be stewarded by mere mortals, and I am closer to understanding how precious is the peace that was sent here for us to hold, like a mild little infant that so needs us to be still.

Wha! December?

The month is allegedly December but I remain unconvinced. Not only was I driving around yesterday with windows rolled down but OTHER PEOPLE were, too! Usually it is just I, the hor-motional preggo, along with my usual crew of menopausal women drivers in Boston cruising with windows cracked while snowflakes fall all willy nilly around. Today was 60 degrees outside! That's considered humid and balmy in parts of Ireland!

But I am also stupefied that it is December because that means my students should know MLA citation backward and forward by now, and surely I should have my holiday cards addressed and my presents wrapped and I should actually be taking stock of the fact that my Baby Girl is going to be TWO YEARS-OLD in just over a month's time!?!

I don't know how it's the last month of 2009 Anno Domini but shoot. This year has been so much fun and the last few weeks have been a hoot and a half. I've been festivemaking and just being a busy social bumblebee of late. Here are a few snaps of the mischief:

Attended Kalev and Hannah's baptism. So proud of these kids. We have really watched them grow up, and grow up in the Lord which is indescribably sweet.

Watched Baby Girl and her gal pal Lily chase a cat up onto its perch at a holiday pahty.

Felt some faux wall grass.

Wore a pilgrim hat. Charged the camera.

Set the Thanksgiving picnic table eleventy-few times on the living room floor.

Ate some popcorn. Skimmed the catalogs. (This picture makes me melt.)

Decked the tree.

Toppled some pillow piles.

Took ourselves very seriously indeed.

Let the Children Come

I was talking to our friend Hector, the person who was most instrumental, second to Loverpants, in guiding me through my conversion experience (from US measurements to metrics, of course).  I was sharing with him how I am struggling to orient Baby Girl to the church environment.  It's difficult on many levels, especially because sabbath is a longish day experience and worship doesn't really accommodate the toddler's activity level.  I was telling Hector how frustrated I was because it seemed like No One was hearing the full message, e.g. the sermon in its entirety because Loverpants and I were working so hard to corral Baby Girl, taking turns stepping into the Cry Room and never really getting the full download. Hector reminded me that our roles have shifted now.  We are parents trying to minister to our daughter's heart, yes.  But we are also just laying the foundations for worship, for a religious experience.  He reminded me that Jesus said, "Let the children come to me."  And yet for so many months, I have been the one shushing and holding back and clotheslining my kid from coming to know church as a place that loves children.

I am so glad that Jesus loves kids in all their unadulterated whimsy.

Like this one, for example.

She loves to play shaving cream table.

And then she loves to scratch her nose.

And use her pants in lieu of paper towel.

Wait, don't touch that --

Oh how I love those shaving cream hugs.