Thursday September 20th, 2007
There is Hope and there is Grace in my home.
Naomi is Naomi Grace and she truly fills this name. She came after a rebirth in our family, after the heart-pain and the soul-aches.
Since she’s been with us, I’ve walked in GRACE. When I carried her inside me, I prayed for her and asked God what we should name her…Grace…Beautiful Grace.
Grace is receiving that which I do not deserve, and in my second daughter, I know this is true. I surely do not deserve this amazing, affectionate child who climbs into my lap and wants me to read. I don’t deserve this this bubbly baby who says “hello” and “goodbye” to the airplane and giggles as I push her on the swing. Nothing in me warrants my daughter, with an old-soul look in her eyes, throwing her baby-arms around my leg wanting a kiss, a hug and simple reassurance I am here.
I walk in GRACE, yet I do not deserve it. She sleeps calmly and safely upstairs in her room right now, and I can’t help but feel that I don’t deserve her love. Yet, GRACE gives this love freely. And MY Grace gives her love gently and wholly and perfectly.
Written at 6:36 am · (15) Comments ·
Wednesday September 19th, 2007
Naomi means “beauty” or “
delight“, and Hope means…”hope”. Simply and openly. Her name means exactly what it says, just like the transparent truth and openness I see in her face everyday.
She asks me if her name is in the Bible, because she recognizes that Naomi’s is in the story of Ruth. I tell her that her name is all over the Bible. I tell her that her name means, “Something good is about to happen.” Something great is right around the corner. Something beautiful, something grand, something wonderful, something perfect…
I came across a proverb: Were it not for HOPE the heart would break.
Mine would have. Hope was not quite two years old when our marriage hit a wall at 70 miles an hour, and almost died. She was there. I knew that something wonderful would happen. And something did: something perfect…
I had walked away and HOPE helped me find my home again. Not only did something beautiful happen, but I was found, inside my broken heart. Something grand was able to happen.
I stand here to say that HOPE is never lost, it is never gone. Even in despair, friend, HOPE is forever close, eternally near.
And MY Hope, she is here and beautiful and a constant reminder to me that HOPE is always just around the corner. She shows me that life is good and grand.
Written at 7:39 am · (15) Comments ·
Tuesday September 18th, 2007
I have to live knowing that in the region I call home, I will never see the fire-blaze of orange and red autumn trees. But I can pretend.
In Southern California, I take what I can get. Maybe we are the converse of Alaskans wearing shorts and bathing suits when the mercury hits 50 degrees or above. I’m not sure. But I like to pretend a little. We turn the heaters on in our cars when we feel the bite in the air.
I can close the windows and doors (because when I got up Monday, it WAS truly chilly). I can burn the cinnamon candle and steep the tea in now-darker afternoon. I can pull out my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts, and my cold-weather running jerseys. I can pretend a little.
I can panic because I don’t have any sweaters for the baby, because who wants to buy bulky things in the 105 degree heatwave of a couple weeks ago. But really, there is no reason to panic; it hardly ever dips below 60 in September. And I look for boots on sale.
I can hang the fall wreath and take the kids to the pumpkin patch the weekend it opens. Unlike my celebration of summer (which is born out of necessity), I can celebrate this season out of sheer desire and joy.
Yesterday was the first day that I could feel the crispness of the fall approach, and I love it. I know that to some it is merely the precursor to the Christmas holiday, but to me, autumn is something to be enjoyed by itself.
I know all of you snow-shovellers are lauging at me right now. And I guess technically the autumn equniox isn’t for a few more days. So, for today, I will drink my tea and light my candle, and pretend.
Written at 7:18 am · (13) Comments ·
Monday September 17th, 2007
“You are so much SUNSHINE to the square inch!” (Walt Whitman)
Naomi is sunshine – even on a cloudy day. Her eyes speak it and her voice sings it. Her laugh, it giggles sunshine. I hope that when her storms do come someday, they are momentary, only long enough for her to understand what life is like without the sun. Until then and even then, she is my sunshine.
Written at 5:50 am · (7) Comments ·
Sunday September 16th, 2007
Naomi is so tolerant. I know we are really on the cusp of a potential future of sisterhood-abuses, however, Hope likes to use Naomi constantly in her endless imaginary games. In these, Naomi usually ends up being a horse (hence the saddle picture – I didn’t do this; Hope got her to sit still for the saddling by herself) or a “student” in any of a number of different “schools” or “camps” she cooks up.
But Naomi truly is tolerant, and her memory is short. She’s also probably too little to fight back yet (I’m sure that will change). If her sister becomes mean, pushes her over, or doesn’t let her ride the One-Eared-Puppy-boat (don’t ask), she squawks for a minute, then moves on to something else. In their playing together, I’ve seen Naomi squirt in the face with a garden hose, closed up in a cardboard box to play “closet”, tripped, chased to exhuastion, moved over, moved out, and more.
Naomi usually doesn’t react, and if her feelings are truly hurt, she usually forgets after half-a-minute.
As I am scrubbing the sink this morning, I am watching them play “boat” that Hope has named the One Eared Puppy, and as they are rowing across the dining room floor, I am witnessing sisterhood (or Relationship) in action: Hope has her imaginary world in mind (WATCH OUT FOR THE FEROCIOUS CROCODILES!), and is rowing her sister to safety. Naomi apparently does not want to be saved, just free, but no hard feelings: she just gets out and does something else. No one is upset, and everyone understands this exchange. Its normal.
I want an open heart, a forgiving soul and a short memory. If someone hurts me (as inevitably life will do this), I want to openly forgive, and quickly forget, for good. If Naomi were to carry around every sister-abuse that has befallen her, she would buckle under the pressure. She forgets. How often do I carry even smallish things around with me, and allow them to rule. My prayer this morning is that I may forget quickly and forgive always.
Written at 8:08 am · (12) Comments ·
Saturday September 15th, 2007
Whatever you want to call AYSO U6 Girl’s Soccer, it is less soccer, and much more like watching eight-short-multicolored-little-bees around a hive. Watching their coordinating hair bows flapping in the wind, and their no more than 2 inches of knees running around the field (because the XS soccer shorts are big and long on their little legs) is extremely rewarding after a long week.
This season is Hope’s second (she is the oldest and tallest on her team) and Chad’s first for coaching. After a rough first practice a couple weeks ago, he coached his first game on Saturday. They are the Dragonflies, complete with orange smiles at halftime.
At this level, there is no score kept and no real referee…just 8 little girls who can sometimes kick the ball, but more often kick each other. There are no goalies, and no positions played. Swarm-ball, Bumblebee-ball, whatever name fits best, this is it. The coaches can actually be on the field, and there are many times-out for shoe-tying, high-fiving, and gentle reminders of which way they are going. It usually takes a full quarter after the goal switch at halftime for the girls to remember which goal is theirs.
But a lot can happen in a year. Last year, we called Hope a Twirley-Bird (she liked more to pick the clover on the field and dance in a circle than chase the ball). This year, (without even a spring ball season) she is fast, strong and possibly the most focused player on our team. She made our team’s only goal this morning. I am proud of her young athleticism, something I was unable to be a part of when I was young. She might even be overcoming the whole dad/coach confusion issue as well.
And, today she had a good day: obedient, affectionate and cooperative. Maybe it was due in part to the fact that she played well and felt successful. But she is still our Hopey: this afternoon as I was showing her pictures of the game played just hours before, I pointed to one with her teammates. “Look Hopey, there you all are!”. She looks at me and says,
“What’s her name again?” Oh boy.
Written at 7:57 pm · (6) Comments ·
Friday September 14th, 2007
This week really kicked my butt.
It was the first full week of all-things-Kindergarten (including the 90 minutes I spent in the classroom on Monday helping) and many-things-toddler. I won’t go into the details because painful memories can be hard for everyone.
Friday morning I was in a frenzy – a whipped-up, frothy mother running around with drippy hair, making lunches, stuffing breakfasts in little mouths, hair-brushes (SCREAMS!!!), socks on, diaper changed…trip to the car (did the baby walk out the door too? Uh…where is she? Found her, strap her in…) Full-blown frenzy. The funny thing is, I AM a planner (I lay out clothes and pack bags the night before), but somehow the morning craziness usually ensues. It made me tired just thinking about all that I had to get done. Me…Me…Me…Hmm.
As I was trying to get everyone in their proper places and everything in the car for my mighty day of who-knows-what, I used my scary-mommy voice on Hope. She begins to cry, a little whimper, and I knew. She says to me, crying,
“Mama, I can’t hold all your words in!”
Ouch. Wow. I closed my mouth and my heart changed immediately (as did my focus). Children can say things so wisely. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I love you and I’m done talking. Let’s go to school.”
I talk too much, I realize. And I’m not really a talker. I am not the talk-on-the-phone-for-hours girl, and never have been. I married a talker so I didn’t really have to, but with my little girl, I was using way too many words and using them harshly. I SAY a lot and often don’t allow her adequate time to answer. I get scared just thinking about my scary-mommy voice and I know that they must hate it too. The frenzy, I may not be able to change (hopefully we will get into a better rhythm), but I can change my attitude and my voice. While remaining firm, I know I can use soft words to my girls. And on top of it all, I had been so focused on the DOING of it all, I pretty much forgot the WHY – for these beautiful girls.
Written at 7:39 pm · (8) Comments ·
Friday September 14th, 2007
Keeping up a discipline of writing each day has affected me.
It has caused me to search out the lyric in my daughters’ words. It has helped me to see their hearts and glance past mistakes. I find myself watching for their amazement at something (the carousel), and try not to allow my vision to glaze over at all. I want to see it all. And I want to write about it. Writing has caused me to look for the depth in all parts of life, look for the INSIDE of things that rumble just underneath the surface. I’ve realized that there is music in all of the sound and there is poetry in all of the overlapping-words.
I look at the girls’ faces, at the faces of my friends, of my sister and I look for the poem. Because there is one – in everyone. In everything. I look for it and hope I find it – I desperately hope I can see them, see the person they each know they are.
Writing is not merely a way to put into words the phrases that bounce around in my head hourly and the emotions that (sometimes) burst from my heart. I do that…now keeping little journals and scraps of paper in purses, diaper bags and pockets. This discipline of writing is actually depositing words and poems IN me, giving existence to the life that swirls around me, the lives of my children, my husband and everyone I love.
Written at 12:34 pm · (9) Comments ·
Wednesday September 12th, 2007
Needless to say, Hope is a firecracker. She has her own way of doing just about everything, so one can only imagine (even after 2 years of part-time preschool), Kindergarten is an adjustment for her.
Friday she was “talked to”, and Monday had a Kindergarten Discipline Notice sent home to be signed….BIG SIGH by me. I knew this would happen, just wasn’t quite sure when. She is a complex little girl and even I have difficulty understanding her. And I pray, and I pray and pray, for her and her willingness and desire to obey. And I pray for her teacher and the classroom… It seems like I am in constant prayer about this lately.
I know its only a week into school, and there is transition, and adjustment and finding your place and getting to know everyone, but I know her. I know how she operates. This might be a hard year.
It is interesting being on the other side of the parent/teacher coin now. I understand what it is to be a teacher, and all of the pressure there is in that role. Now, I am just a humble parent, with my ultimate prayer that Hope’s teacher see her, and see past the emotional meltdowns, and love her.
I hate it when Hope misbehaves because I hate to discipline her. But I know I must. I really want her to hit a home run so that I can reward her, take her to frozen yogurt and let her choose the rainbow sprinkles. I know I can’t do this on days she acts out in class, on the days she is “talked to”. I can’t applaud her misbehavior by allowing her a treat.
When she feels successful in her world, by listening and controlling her 5 year old self, everyone at our house is a little happier. Her self-control at school breeds more obedience at home, and so goes the cycle. So, to sum it up, I now pray for rainbow-sprinkle-days, days that she obeys her teachers and me, because these are they days that are all-around good.
Written at 8:04 am · (10) Comments ·
Wednesday September 12th, 2007
It makes me laugh that, because I can’t find a pen in my house to save my life, I usually write my market lists in peach or grey crayon. But somehow my toddler can find the wide-tipped-RED-sharpie right before church…
It makes me laugh, that the “game” Hope plays at Kindergarten recess she’s dubbed DR-TWO-BRAINS. Really. I didn’t teach her that. Whatever that is…I think it involves three girls chasing one (lucky) boy they name Dr. Two Brains.
It makes me laugh that my dining room table is piled with all the different projects’ paperwork, both for household and church, but I somehow keep it all straight in my mind. I’m really not a piler, but I think I learned it from my dad. (this laugh is more of an ironic laugh)
It makes me laugh that often, when Chad and I are both working on the laptops after the kids have gone to bed, we will sometimes communicate by instant messaging. This is how I know we are both nerds, just of a different sort!
I laugh because although our toddler has actually a very large vocabulary for a child her age, her favorite word is “COOOOKIE”….all the time, she’s looking for a “COOOOKIE” everywhere she goes.
I have to laugh that Chad is Hope’s soccer coach. Just thinking about watching him try to wrangle 5 four and five year olds for an hour-long practice makes me giggle. Welcome to my life.
God seriously has a sense of humor and I see this everyday.
Written at 7:41 am · (12) Comments ·
There is Hope and there is Grace in my home.
