The 4 C's of my Chrismation

Crosses, Clothing, Confession, and Communion. I know they are not the 4 horsemen of the apocolypse, but these are the things occupying virtually all of my brain - not too mention the effect they have on my anxiety level - over the next several days.

First the crosses. This one is pretty much under control now, but earlier this week, it was getting a little stressful. One of the responsibilities of our sponsors is to provide a cross for us at our baptism/chrismation. A lovely practice to be sure. However, in their efforts to be sure we are happy with the crosses we will hopefully have for a very long time as a sign of this huge committment, they invited us to help with the selection. Very thoughtful gesture, just not so great for this gal who absolutely loves a surprise and does not make decisions in any kind of a hurry. I was able to work a deal out with my godmother to just give her some ideas of what I do and do not like and let her go from there. Then I totally flaked on choosing Q and A's. When we did finally make a choice for Addie, it arrived and her godmother was nearly in tears with disappointment over the miniscule size and insisted it just wouldn't do. That was 2 days ago. What I didn't realize was that all crosses had to be given to the priest first so he could see them and bless them before our chrismations. So she was looking at a second order and overnight shipping charges. I felt terrible. The crisis was averted, though, by a quick trip to the Christian Supply store down the street from us where Adelaide selected something that was adequately "sparkly" and all was good again. It was about then that I realized that I had never gotten back to Quincy's godfather with an actual selection. I seemed to have a vague recollection of a conversation with someone, but even that was foggy. I was in a bit of a panic until I found out that it had all been taken care of and was already with Fr. George. I still feel bad for being so lazy and wishy-washy, but at least the end result is good.



Then there's the clothing. I knew this was coming. I could have taken care of it sooner. Did I? Of course not! In my small defense, it has been very busy at work never mind the daunting nature of going clothes shopping with 1 adult and 3 small children. Tell me you wouldn't procrastinate too. Anyway, our church does not do robes for baptism. The only requirement is white. This may sound picky, but in the early church they were doing this naked. Let's all be thankful they let that tradition go. So in my mind I have been taking a mental inventory of the kid's wardrobes and was pretty sure that Quincy had 1 white dress shirt and surely in the vastness of Adelaide's dresses there was at least one white one. And I seemed to remember getting something white for Milo in a bag of hand me downs. What I did not give a second thought to was what in the world Erik and I would wear. So this afternoon we are all home and this is our quest. Not to mention that we not only need something white that can get submerged in the water, but also something white to where after that for the remainder of the service. Pastels are acceptable also, but white is definitely preferred. By sundown tonight, my mission is to have all apparel secured for the entire Paschal weekend. Wish me luck.



Confession. Do I really need to explain why this is stressful? This has been one of my biggest hindrances in becoming Orthodox over the past 3 years. It absolutely terrifies me. But it has to be done. Graciously, they require all other members to complete their confessions earlier in Lent and reserve Holy Week strictly for the catechumens knowing full well, that it will likely be a lengthier process not only because of the volume of sins to confess, but also because it is a nerve wracking experience for those of us brand new to it. For those coming over from some type of liturgical experience perhaps not so much, but for folks like me . . . . . awkward to say the least. We have committed to Monday night. Erik, Quincy, and myself will be confessing individually while Milo and Adelaide get off scott free . . . for now. So that is the other thing we will be doing tonight is making our preparations for that. Again, wish us luck. Or better yet, say a prayer.



And finally, communion. Any stress regarding this stems solely from my own self centered insecurities. Most people joining the church are so eager with the anticipation of finally partaking of the Holy Mysteries, but no, not Heather. Heather is riddled with anxiety over making a mistake herself (I am a bona fide klutz) or having one of her children do so. It's not that I have problem with screwing up, I do it often enough. But when it comes to Holy Communion there are a few, uhhh, ramifications. Without opening a big bag of theological worms, I will simply say that when it comes to the bread and the wine, we Orthodox fall somewhere between the transubstantiating Catholics and the purely symbolic Evangelicals. This is waaayyy more than a commemoration, but it's not cannibalism. It's why we call the elements the "Holy Mysteries". We just can't truly explain it. However, if a crumb of bread or drop of wine falls to the floor, "technically" speaking we would have to burn that portion of the rug and cut a hole in the flooring. The priest could be suspended for a week since he is the one responsible. (We are served communion on a spoon from the priest.) We always have a cloth being held under the chalice just in case something should drop, but that's not really something one should rely on. Besides, a little cloth is not going to do the job when a 10 month old sees something shiny coming straight at him right there within his reach. Any mother out there knows exactly what I fear. That's why Erik is in charge of Milo's communion for a yet to be determined span of time. Then there's Quincy with the dining habits of a caveman. Food somehow just does not stay in his mouth. Never mind the reaction I know we're going to get from both Q and A when they taste the wine, no matter how much it is watered down. I am praying Adelaide doesn't just spit it out of her mouth. We've been building this up for awhile now, and I think the reality is that communion will lose some of it's lustre when they realize they have to take the wine with the bread. We'll cross that bridge in a few weeks. For now I just want to get through the first one.

I feel a little bad that this should be a time of excitement and anticipation and I lie awake some nights thinking where things will go wrong. Honestly I do feel an underlying joy throughout this process and I am completely thrilled to be joining this family. But the real world in which I live has all sorts of potential for disaster. So if you think of us this week say a prayer. I know many a "Lord have mercy" will be streaming from my tongue as well.

The Final Stretch

38 days down.  9 more to go.  Here is what those 9 remaining days look like.

Friday, 6:00pm -  Liturgy of the Presanctified

Saturday, 9:30am - Divine Liturgy followed by work party to get everything cleaned up for the   big sha-bang next weekend

                  5:00pm - Catechuman class

            6:00pm  - Vigil of the Palms

Sunday, 9:30am - Divine Liturgy (Palm Sunday)

Monday, 6:00pm  Vigil

Tuesday, 6:00pm   Liturgy of the Presanctified

Wednesday, 7:00pm   Vigil and Unction

Thursday, 5:00pm   Vesperal Divine Liturgy

                    7:00pm   Vigil

Friday, 2:00pm  Vespers of the Burial of Christ; Vigil at the Tomb

      7:00pm  Vigil

Saturday, 10:15am  Baptisms

                  11:00am  Vesperal Divine Liturgy and Chrismations

                  11:30pm  Paschal Vigil

Sunday,    Pascha!!  The Feast of Feasts!

                  12:00AM   Festal Matins, Divine Liturgy, Banquet

                  1:00pm   Paschal Vespers, Egg hunt, Barbecue   

I couldn't really tell you what each of those services  is for, but if I can work out a variety of childcare arrangements, I will let you know some time next month.  Some may say we go a little over the top this time of year and they may be right.  I believe one of our "cradle" orthodox members was once asked why there are so many different things observed not only during Holy Week, but even throughout the entire year.  His response was simple.  In his thick Slavic accent he replied, "bee-cose,  vee don't fordget noe-ting."  The resurrection is huge, and that's what all of this is leading to, but ya can't just jump right into it or you will certainly shortchange yourself on it's full impact.  There was a lot more going on before it happened.  Things Jesus was trying to say and show and get across to these everyday fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes, and Joe Schmoes like you and me.  Throughout Great Lent we commemorate  a variety of very specific events from history, all pointing to that glorious event, but this week we do it all.  We do our best to walk their road.  Not His, but those who were there with Him.  We may not know the sound of his human voice, the smell of his hair, or the actual touch of divinity's scarred and calloused skin, but this week we will do the best we are able to re-member ourselves with those who did.

   

An overdue taste of Spring

After endless days of clouds, cold temperatures, rain, (and even SNOW over spring break!), I would say we here in the NW deserved the glorious respite we received this weekend.  

An Unexpected Side Effect of Lent

The following definitely falls in the category of too much information. Proceed with caution.

Lent makes you gassy.

It seems to have subsided somewhat at this point, but for the first 2 weeks our whole family was becoming quite, how shall I say, musical as well as aromatic. (Everyone was farting a LOT.) Oddly enough, the actual, again searching for the proper words here , output? was in decline. (We were pooping less.)

I think I knew at least that when we stopped eating meat it would have some kind of impact on our digestive systems, but I really didn't have any idea exactly how. And I certainly didn't realize that it would be so smelly. In fact, I think I instead anticipated that all systems would become more, I don't know, civilized? Although, when I think a little more about it, I remember that our vegan friend Kat used to fart all over the place at work. She admitted that she regularly would drop her little bombs in the back corner of the warehouse or the sleeping bag department if she had to stay on the sales floor.

We are an 'open' family when it comes to these type of things, so it's no big deal to just let things flow when at home, but I've got to admit getting through an 8 hour shift at work . . . . well that's another story. Not for Erik so much since he has no shame . . . or maybe it's pride. Whatever.

Anyway, all that just to say if you ever consider becoming Orthodox (or just a hippie) consider all of the ramifications on your personal and social life.

Ow.

(Warning:  This post rambles.  I wrote it several weeks ago and have been trying to find time to clean it up and find an actual link to the music, but the time is not coming and now it's been over a month since my last writing.  So I'm not re-reading it and just throwing it out there instead.  My apologies.)

Forgiveness hurts.

Seriously.

Last month, the Lenten season began with the Rite of Forgiveness. This is the Sunday that comes every year when everyone in the church both gives and receives forgiveness from everyone else there. It is a beautiful and meaningful tradition. It is also a ritual that demands more than a fair amount of physical strength and stamina.

I observed the ritual 2 years ago and it moved me to tears. Last year was Erik's turn to see what it was about and this year we actually participated for the first time. Basically what happens is you move down a line of people greeting each one first with the sign of the cross. You then simultaneously say "Forgive me" (insert name or simply say "brother" or "sister") and make a bow or full prostration -- that would be taking the forehead all the way to the floor -- taking care not to bump heads as you do so. As you rise you say "May God forgive us all" and exchange the kiss of peace. That's 2 or 3 kisses to the cheek depending on ethnic background or possible just personal choice. I'm really not sure. When you get to the end of the line you simply turn then and take your place at the end until everyone has been through the process.

Are you getting the visual of that? Greet, cross, bow, kiss. In fact, you may want to take a moment and try it yourself to get a good feel for it. Be sure and do the full prostration too, because although that is not required, there is no way you are going to simply bow your head when that little 4' 10" grandma from the old country is going all the way down each time. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Now add a 20 lb weight to your body (I had Milo in a front pack) and do it about 99 more times.

Yeah. Feel the burn.

I had to remind myself midway through to switch legs when standing back up since my right one was already getting shaky. Milo went along with me quite contentedly and got lots of extra kisses along the way.

Now, aside from the physical demands of this tradition it has the potential to be equally taxing on a spiritual and emotional level. Admittedly, at this point in time there is no one in the parish that has personally offended me and to my knowledge there is no one who has taken issue with me. However, there are people in my life who I have certainly thought and spoken ill of. There are things I have said and done for which I definitely need forgiveness. As Fr. George once said, this is not just about forgiveness of personal wrongs, but overall for the "schlocky" things we have done throughout the year. But that does not exclude the fact that there will be times when we have in fact wounded our own brothers and sisters because we are sinners. And Forgiveness Sunday is your opportunity to suck it up, lay it out there, clean the slate and move on.

This includes everyone, too. I think that is one of the things that struck me so profoundly the first time I watched this. Elderly, teens, and little ones. Men and women. Clergy and laity - in fact, the priest leads off with his family first. It is truly an amazing thing to observe and be a part of.

What struck me this year, though, was the overall mood of the event. I don't even recall the music from the first time I witnessed it, but the tone just felt quite somber. Forgiveness is a serious thing and a humbling thing and remember this was the year where there was out in the open conflict going on. It seemed, though, that people were truly facing up to it. This year, though, I was surprised to find that as I watched the beginnings and then joined in myself, the tone of the whole event was actually quite jovial and it surprised me. There were smiles, hugs, and even some laughter. All the while with the choir singing one of my new favorite hymns for this season called "The Angel Cried". (I'm finding that most hymns are quite simply named after their first line.) I think it loses some of it's impact when you can't hear it, but Frederica Mathewes-Green describes it as glorious and exultant with a melody that is bright, brisk, and joyous. It reminds us that although we are just at the beginning of Lent, Jerusalem and the resurrection are where we are headed. Here are the lyrics. (Don't you just hate when people post lyrics in their blogs?) Yeah, well here they are anyway.

The angel cried to the Lady full of grace,
"Rejoice, rejoice, O pure Virgin!
Again I say, rejoice!
Your son is risen from his three days in the tomb.
With himself he has raised all the dead.
Rejoice, rejoice, O ye people!
Shine! Shine! Shine, O new Jerusalem!
The glory of the Lord has shone on you.
Exult now, exult and be glad, O Zion.
Be radiant, O pure Theotokos,
In the Resurrection,
The Resurrection of your Son."

May God forgive us all.

My name is Heather and I'm an Orthodox Christian

Sponsors. Every time I hear that, I feel like I'm joining some kind of 12 step group. They are also known as godparents which is, in my opinion, way cooler. Because, you know, one day I may need a favor . . . oh wait, it's not that kind of godparent.

I'm not sure exactly why they use the term sponsor, but my understanding of the role thus far is that they are someone who stands with you through the catechumen/chrismation process kind of holding your hand as you become Orthodox. Because we are joining at Pascha, we will walk through Great Lent leading up to it and they will journey through with us. Each Sunday during Lent there is a prayer said for the catechumens at which point our sponsors will come along side us as it is said. There is also a fairly strict fast and a wide variety of services and practices that they can kind of walk us through. As a "sponsor" they basically can answer questions and help us gain a better understanding for what is happening.

But for the rest of our lives, they will remain our "godparents', and to my understanding that role is just as it sounds -- a spiritual mother or father. There are no rules about what this relationship looks like, but we have observed a few of them and for many it does seem to be a genuine commitment on both parts. The godparents are a part of family celebrations/holidays including the newly added "name" day (commemoration of your saint name). They are also a source of prayer support and spiritual guidance. I also think they have a responsibility to bring it to our attention should we wander off our path. I certainly hope it is not a role anyone takes lightly.

While to a certain extent we are able to choose our godparents, they do have to be run by our priest first and of course they have to be willing to accept. I don't know that it is required throught all churches to involve the priest in the choice, but the reason for it here is primarily to be sure for one thing, that no one is overburdened with too many god children thereby making it very difficult for them to give adequate attention to each. Our priests wife, a terribly sweet and caring lady, has about 14. No one is allowed to request her anymore. More importantly, though, Fr. George knows his people. He has been with this parish for many years and he knows a LOT that we don't such as their spiritual condition and their ability to set an adequate example and be a true "parent".

Finding female options has not been a problem. (Each family member is to have 1 same gender godparent.) I have been attending pretty regularly for at least 2 years and have gotten to know at least a handful of different women. Figuring out men to ask turned out to be a little more difficult, but we managed to come up with 4 men and 4 women to run by Fr. George. I think he took one off of each of our lists and was open to discuss his reasons for it, which we appreciated. We trust him a lot - which, on a side note is actually quite surprising as there was a point in my life I was pretty certain I would never again trust any type of pastor/church leader type - so we were cool with his opinion. So that leaves us with 3 men to ask and we have 3 men in the family so that has now become a matter of matching up and then asking. Adelaide was the easy one. "Miss Lori" has been acting as a godparent in her life almost since the day we met, so that was just a matter of getting Fr. Georges okay which was no problem at all. That means I am now trying to determine which of the final 2 women would be best for me.

So we got that far in the process about 3 weeks ago and I have been at a standstill ever since. Really, what are the things one needs or should look for when making this choice? I have long desired and hoped for some type of "spiritual mother" in my life and it just has never happened. Now I have the opportunity to actually choose one, but it's not for a 6 week mentoring program or "Secret Sister" event. It's the rest of my life. Choose wisely, right? What I have come down to in this process is now this. The young mother/peer or the older, perhaps less personally connected woman. One is the wife of our Deacon (who we are planning to ask to be godfather of one of our boys), has 2 young children, and I believe is a convert as well. I would guess her to be in her early 30's, but really am not certain. She was the first person to make me feel welcome in the church by offering me and the kids some blessed bread on our first visit there. The other woman, in contrast, I have only known a very short time, but have been terribly impressed by her devotion to worship as well as her pursuit of wisdom and understanding. She is the kid's new Sunday School teacher and does an absolutely fantastic job with them. Her own kids are grown and she is also a convert. So part of me wants to ask the young mom, because we seem to be at the same stage in life and she could potentially help me walk through the raising of my kids in this faith tradition that is as new to me as it is to them. I guess I am hoping that there would be a friendship in addition to the spiritual relationship. With the other I envision the older, wiser, experienced mentor type person who has been where I am and can speak from so much experience. Also, without kids at home, maybe she would actually have more time for me since I know I will eternally have questions. Selfish, I know, but I call it like I see it.

I love that this is a part of the process and that the church has set things up this way. I just have to get past my fear of screwing things up.

Say hello to "spud"

 I don't know that I have posted many pics of Milo, but for those who knew my 2 older children in their infancy, we are in a whole new league with this one. I'll just say this -- 8 months, 20 pounds. Holy flippin' cow. And as you can tell, the hair has a mind of it's own.

     

I must be doing something right

If my family is willing to buy me new fancy pants cookware, I can only guess that means some of the meals over the past few months have been worthwhile. (Of course, according to my kids it's all thanks to Rachael Ray) Who would ever have thought this day would come where not only would I be cooking decent food, but that I would be thrilled to receive a spankin' new pan for my birthday.

For what it's worth

Your Candy Heart Says "Get Real"

You're a bit of a cynic when it comes to love. You don't lose your head, and hardly anyone penetrates your heart. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: is all about the person you're seeing (with no mentions of v-day!) Your flirting style: honest and even slightly sarcastic What turns you off: romantic expectations and "greeting card" holidays Why you're hot: you don't just play hard to get - you are hard to get

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

Hmmm. . .

Three days ago I bought a pair of (dirt cheap) cross country skis. I wonder if this means that subliminally I'm pulling for Wisconsin in the race of where do we go next? Can't imagine they'll get much use in Arizona.

What's in a name?

So one of our first orders of business for this Chrismation business is "Christian" names for nearly all of us. This is to be the name of an Orthodox saint and it is what will always be used when receiving Holy Communion. (You also will then have a "name" day at which time you may receive cards, well wishes, or a special lunch, but that's just a bonus.) For those who are born Orthodox, the name is given at that time but for us converts, well, we get to choose our own which is kinda cool, I think. Technically, I don't need one because my middle name is Ruth and short of someone like Jezebel, if it's in scripture you are good to go. However, I feel like I want to explore what options are out there and see if there might be someone that suits me better.

There are no hard and fast rules on the criteria for choosing a saint name. Many of the "cradle orthodox" names given at birth are chosen simply because they are the ones commemorated on or near the child's birth date. Quincy's friend Nikki has a birthday in December and the St. Nicholas feast day is Dec. 6th. Or one could choose a name based on meaning much like we already do when choosing birth names. It could be someone you feel some sort of kindred connection to or perhaps admire or aspire to emulate. Lots to consider.

The boys names are coming along nicely. Erik is drawn to a few of the Alaskan saints after completing his Masters thesis on the Orthodox missions there. Quincy has shown a certain propensity towards academic pursuits, so I think we are going to let him choose from a short list of early church fathers/theologians. Milo's middle name is Jude which was actually chosen
for the saint so he has been all set since birth. Which brings us to me and Adelaide. Instead of narrowing down the choices, the list just seems to be growing longer each day. I've been digging all over the internet and brought home 3 or 4 books from church today. My hope is to find someone who either I identify with on a personal level or aspire to. The desert mothers are impressive, but the whole hermit/reclusive live in a cave type doesn't really resonate with me nor suit my daughter's personality. I'm also weird about martyrs. Not totally against it, but I would just like for there to be more to the story than that. I mean no disrespect. And of course my totally lame considerations would be when their feast day is and what the icon looks like. I'm just being honest.

Here's what we have so far. Feel free to weigh in.

Helen - my maternal grandmother's name that I sometimes regret not using when Adelaide was born. Saint wise, there are more than one, but the most commonly known is Helena, the mother of Constantine who was a fairly strong woman known for building many churches in the Roman empire as well as seeking out the relics of the "true" cross. Feast day is May 21 and shared with her son.

Brigid - a.) she's Irish. I may not have the red hair and porcelain skin, but there is a fair amount of Irish in my family tree so that is meaningful to me. b.) she was incredibly generous which is a trait I can respect and aspire to. c.) she's got her own cross -- shallow reason, I know, but ya gotta admit it's pretty cool especially since I have a small collection of cross pendants as well as several on our dining room wall. Feast day is Feb. 1.

Hilda -- also Irish and known throughout western Europe for her wisdom. Started a well known monastery for both monks and nuns. Died peacefully. She comes across to me as strong, bold, yet humble and gracious at the same time. Then again, do I really want to hear the name Hilda every Sunday? Feast day is Nov. 17.

Susanna - one of the Myrrh-bearing women - those who were present at the cross. I have grown to love the fact that as my friend Lyn always said, "women were the last at the cross and the first at the tomb". There is very little info available about Susanna, but I have great admiration for all of these women and just can't bring myself to choose "Mary". Feast day is second Sunday after Pascha.

Sophia - the name means "wisdom" which is something I desperately need every day of my life. Again, as with many of these names there are more than one. Today I was reading about Sophia "Our Holy Mother" and here are a few things that really caught my attention. "Sophia lived the busy life of an ordinary woman. She was the mistress of a household, a wife, and the mother of six children. . . . Nevertheless, the noise and confusion of the world around Sophia did not prevent her from living a life which was 'pleasing to God'. Hers was at the same time an ordinary life and holy." Although she was widowed and saw all of her children die, she went on to become an incredibly generous woman. Feast day is June 4.

I'm sure I will find more as I read through some books over the next few days. Say a prayer for clarity of mind as I muddle through this over the next few days/weeks.

Diving in

Well, after 3 years of should we or shouldn't we, we have finally made the decision to officially convert to Orthodoxy. So this year our Lenten/Pascha (Easter) season will end with our entire family being baptized, chrismated, and received into holy communion at St. Nicholas Orthodox Church where we have been "inquirers" since shortly after our arrival here in Portland. It is truly a beautiful community of people who we have grown to love and appreciate. They have brought healing to our hearts without even knowing that we needed it. It just seemed right this year that we become a full part of this community even though we may be leaving come fall.

There are a number of little things to be done along the way so stay tuned. I promise to do my very best at keeping this more updated. First up - saints and sponsors. More to come . . . .

It Is Finished . . . sort of

When we began this journey to the MA, it was actually an MDiv and it was at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, TX. Erik was a full time associate pastor, and I was an event coordinator at an office building downtown. Shortly after enrolling, we found out that we were pregnant with our 2nd child. About the same time we learned that I was about to be laid off. Fortunately, I was able to line something else up right away so we did not miss a paycheck beat. Unfortunately, while I was on maternity leave they decided they did not want me back. We tightened the belt strap and soldiered on. At the beginning of the new year, Erik's job - how shall we say - went away. School was put on hold. We dragged our sorry butts back to retail and began to explore our options outside of Texas which landed us in our current location. And then we had another kid. So 2 pregnancies, 5 jobs, and 1 relocation later, we finally have degree in hand. Until I looked back, I didn't really realize what a long road this has been. Can't wait to see what happens in the course of the next one.

Sorry the picture is sideways. I'll have to sort that one out later.

Greetings from Illinois

Ahhhh, here we are vacationing in scenic Kankakee, IL. It just doesn't get more exotic than that, does it? Yes, I know you are fighting a jealous rage right now, but try to gain some control. Actually, we are in Bourbonnais, but Kankakee is just down the road and it's much more fun to say. And just in case it matters, that is about 60 miles south of Chicago.

The purpose of our stay here is a.) to visit the grandparents who returned to this city of my husband's birth after 20 some odd years away and 2.) it happens to be homecoming at Olivet Nazarene University where Erik graduated from in '94. Not a reunion year for him, but hopefully we will run into a few old friends while here.
The bonus is that this is also where Erik and I actually met so it actually holds a good amount of sentimentality for me as well. Yesterday we took the kids to the mall and into the store where I was the manager and Erik was one of my first employees. We drove by what used to be "John's Pub", the dive where we would shoot pool many a night while Erik slowly worked up the nerve to share his true feelings for me. Then over to the house on Monroe Street to show the kids where Daddy lived when he was their age and down to the river where he would ride his bike and go exploring all day long in a more innocent time. And of course to the University where Dad and Grandma and Grandpa all graduated. The weather has been gorgeous and it has been a lovely time so far.

I told Erik yesterday that I really am grateful to have our families in such wonderful places to take our kids to visit. My parents, of course, have the farm in Arkansas. While I wouldn't consider my kids 'city' by any means, true farm life is not something that many of their friends will ever experience or understand. I'm glad that my children get a chance to know a much slower pace and visit somewhere where they can go outside first thing in the morning and not have to tell me where they are going, what they'll be doing, or when they will be back. They don't need to look at a clock because there is no schedule or agenda.

When my in-laws were still in Dallas, we did not go back to visit at all. And to be honest, I can't imagine my kids having nearly as much fun there. As we walked down the trail that begins practically from my in-laws back deck and winds through a meadow by the river and to a little playground, I told Erik I feel like I'm in a John Mellencamp video. The houses in the neighborhood are older but incredibly well kept. Most of the people are unpretentious with a style that has hints of late 80's and early 90's. At the same time there is a good sized University just down the street so it's not like some back woods intellectual black hole or anything. In fact, I feel like it is just what one would think of when we reference a "good Midwestern upbringing". There is a comfort that I feel here that I didn't really expect, but think I deeply needed.

Perhaps in some ways, you actually can go back.

HELP!

Okay all of you professionally trained elementary educators, and mothers of small children who are older than mine. I have a 6 year old who can not tie his shoes and I have no idea where to even begin. I am soliciting any and all tips, tricks, rhymes, songs, whatever you've got to help us accomplish this goal.

Baby cryin'. Gotta go.

Like winning the freakin' lottery . . .

That's pretty much how I feel every time I go grocery shopping these days. I go to any grocery store I please. If I'm doing the full blown shopping, (including my fancy pants Rachael Ray ingredients)I head to New Seasons where they specialize in not only organic products, but local as well. If it's a short list or I just don't have much time, I head just down the street to Safeway. Or if I want to just grab something I can just heat up at home, we swing by Trader Joesfor something like Buffalo Burgers. I don't give more than a fleeting thought to price, and I honestly can't remember my last trip to Winco. Almost everything is organic, from potatoes to cereal to packaged taco seasoning. This weekend I purchased a 2lb. flank steak for about $25.00. Holy cow!! I feel so gashed darn high falutin'.

And then it's time to pay. With as much confidence as I can muster I present my "Oregon Trail" card . . . . which is what food stamps look like these days. It kind of allows you to maintain some sort of dignity since it processes like a credit card. But you do have to specify to the cashier how you are paying so they can push their special little button so I always feel just a little bit awkward. And then I am often overcome with this urge to start explaining. First, I think I should explain/defend my clothing. I wonder if people think I am cheating the system because they see that I have a Timbuk2 diaper bag, Prana clothing, and Chaco sandals. I feel like I should explain that I'm able to score some massive deals where I work and that I promise I didn't pay anywhere near full price for any of it. I want to tell them that I do have a job as does my husband (while a full time grad student) and that I promise I did not have this child to get more money. I want to explain that this is temporary and that sometimes we all just need a little help. Most of the time I hope they respect my choice to spend my "government handout" on healthier choices for me and my family. I had no control over what our monthly amount to spend would be and it can only be spent on food. Because it affords me the opportunity to frequent the higher end grocers does that mean that we have been awarded too much? Or does it mean that everyone should at least have the option to make these choices? I want to explain so much even though I know I don't have to just like no one has to explain themselves to me.

I have learned a lot over the past few years about what "poverty" can look like (according to the federal government I live in it although I am still not convinced) and that you truly never know what anyone's situation is despite outward appearances. Maybe someday I will actually learn see the world around me the way I hope that they see me.

Hello First Grade

Wow. A first grader. Wierd.

I have to admit this year was actually harder than Kindergarten last year, at least for me. Although Quincy is having challenges of his own since Oregon is one of the few states I believe who still offer half day kindergarten. That means that this is our first year of being at school all day. Quincy is not that thrilled with that fact as it is really cutting into his playin' around time.

It's been hard on mom because the last few weeks have been a little bumpy for Q and I. It would seem that I am already losing my little boy and I'm just not ready for that. But that's not what this post is about. It's about my boy's brave first day in the first grade.

We had an orientation night the week before so he had already met his teacher, knew where the classroom was as well as his desk. Once he got his jacket off, backpack put away and started on his coloring, he looked up and with a wave said "bye mom, see ya later". He has never been one to cling too much although he is usually nervous in new situations. At the end of the day, we went with our neighbor Izzy - who just started Kindergarten - to Cold Stone Creamery for some first day celebratory ice cream.

All in all, a pretty good start.

Here are a few obligatory photos.

Farewell Summer

I like living in a place where school starts after Labor Day. I also like living in a place that experiences 4 distinct seasons that largely correspond with their start and end dates on the calendar. There seems to be this large communal deep breath as we all take in the last bits of summer over Labor Day weekend. Even the folks without kids are winding down their summer travels, camping trips, etc. And those of us with (school age) kids are of course enjoying our last hurrah before going back to that educational grind. The days here are growing a little milder and a little breezier and a lot shorter. Some of the leaves are even starting to change. So instead of just one more sweltering day, Labor Day was actually a perfect day for a family trip to the zoo. The only condition we imposed on ourselves was that we would go first thing in the morning since lots of other people would have the same idea. We arrived around 9:15am and had a really nice time. By 12:30 or 1:00, the kids had had their fill and we headed out just as it began to really get crowded and a little warmer. The timing really was perfect.

Here are some pics to commemorate the Young family's last 'unofficial' day of summer 2007.




The sea lions and sea otters at "Stellar Cove" are a mandatory stop for me.





Betcha didn't know how important it is to keep your volcanic peaks adequately hydrated.






Yeah, when the kids faces look like that, it's time to go.






It's an eagle's nest. Get it? They're being eagles. Humor them.

Triple Onion Soup with Triple Cheese Toast

I adore French Onion soup, so I was anxious to try this one. At least until I read through the ingredients list and discovered leeks and shallots. I'm guessing I can find these things in produce, but outside of that I have no clue. Fortunately, Erik did the shopping that day and he was able to track them down.

I have accepted the fact that I can not do what Rachael Ray does in 30 minutes, which is how long every recipe in this book is supposed to take including all the slicing and dicing. Whatever. I began chopping at 5:00. I believe we sat down to eat around 6:45.

What Rachael fails to take into consideration is how many times the 4 year old will stand outside your 2nd floor apartment window calling out "mo-om!" or how many times the baby will drop his plug out of his mouth and begin wailing in distress.

I did not get off to a good start when I thought it would be fine to just go ahead and drop the butter into the soup pot first. As my butter began to burn, I realized that she actually had a reason for telling me to put the olive oil in first and then "add" the butter. Point taken.

And then there were the leeks. I have begun to allow additional time to look up further info on the internet and this was one of those times. The instructions said simply to cut into "half moons", wash, and drain. Huh???? I tried to find pictures or further instruction online but to no avail. I will say this in hindsight. It would be fine without the silly leeks. Double onion is just fine with me.

Oh yeah, the prep time was also extended when I realized that my crusty bread purchased a few days ago had become far too crusty and my husband had eaten most of it anyway, so I had to place a quick call to him at work that he would be dashing out to the store for more bread as soon as he got home.

So overall, not what one would call smooth, but it did taste pretty good even with the 2 extra cups of broth I added. I won't even go into that.

Just thought I'd share a little bit of the comic stylings of Heather in the kitchen. Believe it or not, I'm making progress.

When God was handing out taste in feminine literature, I must have gone to pee. . . .

I have a confession to make. I am not proud of it and must admit it makes me feel somewhat incomplete as a woman.

I have never read a Jane Austen novel.

I haven't even seen any of the movies. I tried to once in my mid 20's but honestly I can't even remember which book it was. That's how disinterested I was. I just feel so inadequate and just generally unhip whenever people start talking all Mr. Darcy and Emma and whatnot.

But recently while at our public library, I actually left the children's area and wandered into adult fiction where I stumbled across Miss Jane's portion of the shelf. I thought to myself that perhaps I should give it another go, but I really don't know where to start.

This is where you come in dear readers. I know there aren't many of you, but I do know that you are primarily well read women. Where should a Jane Austen virgin begin? Maybe something without too many characters to keep up with? Should I brush up on English propriety of that era? (See, I don't even know what era she wrote in.) Or have I passed my Jane Austen prime now that I am solidly in my late 30's and rapidly approaching the next decade?

Any and all comments/advice are appreciated.

p.s. I did come home with an Elizabeth Berg tome, so I am not completely hopeless. Just lacking when it comes to the classics.

My new friend . . . and future enemy

Since being on maternity leave (not vacation as some of my co-workers believe) I have indulged a bit in one of my guilty pleasures. Daytime TV. I believe it was with my first child that I discovered "Trading Spaces" and with my second there was my afternoon getaway with Samantha Brown on "Great Hotels". Now we are back to basic cable so my options have been a bit limited. But I decided to give this little Rachael Ray gal a go and see what the big deal was and if she could help at all with my, ummmm, disorder. Well, I was sucked in enough to track down one of her cookbooks at the library and let me tell you, it has been quite a good time. I have prepared a meal for my family at least twice and sometimes 3 times a week. Even had friends over to join us. Erik has even taken seconds of a few things, which is one of my measures of true success.

I think what I like is that Rachael comes the closest to presenting a recipe in a manner that doesn't make me start twitching before it's all done. She does throw in random ingredients that I have no idea what they actually are, much less where to find them. (I have yet to locate a can of smoked paprika anywhere.) She also tends to rather high end ingredients. I think I've made 3 recipes with Gruyere cheese, which I do love, but it does not come cheap. The good news is that our grocery budget has recently been expanded - I may do a separate post about that - but it is a temporary situation. Eventually, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin and I won't be able to afford her anymore, which means I will have no option but to hate her.

But until then, we're eatin' gooooood!

Prayer and perspective

Sometimes, folks will ask what is so different about Orthodoxy or what it is that I get out of it. I often find myself using the word "perspective". It is not that it has changed my beliefs, but rather has taken me on this walk to view and experience my faith from a different angle. I have this mental picture of actually walking around the perimeter of something and then stopping to look and realizing that from that particular vantage point the same thing looks very different. The object doesn't change, but my perspective does.

Case in point, prayer. Most of the praying I have known in my life involved claiming God's promises, speaking boldly (and sometimes loudly)about your requests and needs as well as your worship and adoration. It wasn't necessarily greedy self-centered prayers just very direct and audible and "me" based.

Now for a little different perspective. These are some excerpts from a series of books by Fr. Thomas Hopko entitled "The Orthodox Faith" specifically regarding prayer.
"Sometimes prayer is defined as a dialogue with God."

So far so good. This is just what I have always been taught and believed. But it goes on with the following.

"This definition is sufficient if we remember that it is a dialogue of silence, carried on in the silence of our hearts."

Whoah, there's a twist. A couple of paragraphs later it even says that

"Saying prayers is not the same as praying. Prayer should be done secretly, briefly, regularly, without many words, with trust in God that he hears, and with the willingness to do what God shows us to do."

Now that is almost a world apart from what I have known . . . up to now at least. But the thing is, it's still prayer as communicating with God, but it is a different way to look at the purpose and practice of it. I don't feel like it invalidates what I have known in the past, but it does fill out and give a much broader meaning to what prayer is. Here is the really tough part that to me truly alters the perspective of my motivation to pray. Quite frankly, it rings true in my heart while scaring the bujeezers out of me.

"The purpose of prayer is to have communion with God and to be capable of accomplishing His will. Christians pray to enable themselves to know God and to do His commandments. Unless a person is willing to change himself and to conform himself to Christ in the fulfillment of his commandments, he has no reason or purpose to pray. According to the saints, it is even spiritually dangerous to pray to God without the intention of responding and moving along the path that prayer will take us."

See it? Prayer becomes about changing me and not the world around me. It becomes about what I can be transformed to, by and for God and not what He can make happen.

Perspective is a good thing.

Sweet Oregon goodness

It is that time of year again. I have said it before and I'll say it again. If you have never had an Oregon berry of any sort then you have no idea what that humble little fruit is capable of. Not to mention how many freaking varieties there are. Aside from your basic straw, rasp, and blue, we've got your marion, logan, tay, huckle, sylvan, olallie . . . the list goes on and on.



Now you have to understand that I grew up in Arkansas, where narry a berry ever crossed my lips. While it is an agricultural area and we had a large garden for many years, I guess the climate and such is not conducive to fruit as much as veggies and I just wasn't interested in the stuff from the produce department much less in a can. My mom and sister were always quite passionate about strawberries, but I could never figure out why they always added about 2 cups of sugar to a bowl of them to get them down. Even though I wasn't a fan, that still seemed like some sort of desecration to me. Until 2 years ago, I thought all strawberries were quite firm and always white in the center. And then I moved here. Holy flippin cow.





And the very best thing is that almost anywhere you live here in the Portland area, you can get to a "pick your own" farm in about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, the strawberry season is a short one, so both this year and last we were only able to make one trip. These pictures were taken the week before I went into labor when I still thought I had a month left in my pregnancy. In the 3 weeks it took me to recover, the strawberries disappeared.












After the strawberries are gone it's time for raspberries, blackberries and all of their relatives. This week was about marionberries, and no we're not talking about the former mayor of Washington D.C. It's a blackberry hybrid that I have been told you can only get in this area, but I'm not convinced that is true. This here bucket o' berries cost us all of 5 bucks. Oh, did I mention that at U-pick farms, the prices run about $1.25 a pound. And are you catching the blackness of these blackberries? You are looking at a big bucket of YUM! We made a crisp that night and the rest are frozen for smoothies and ice cream toppings and so on. Ah yes, it's one of those things that make all that rain worth it.

Thank you SSA

Well, thanks to those stellar employees at the Social Security Administration, my new son has a new middle name. For those who may not know, we chose "Jude". The U.S. government, however, felt this would be more appropriate.

A new record

I actually prepared an evening meal for my family 3 nights in a row. AAANND, they were all edible. Didn't have to order emergency pizza or anything. One of the recipes was even worth saving for future use. You may laugh, but for me that is pure success. There may be a homemaker in me yet.

Stupid Upgrade

Yeah, so I finally upgraded my template so I could take advantage of all the wonderful improvements since Google took over Blogger. Now my name doesn't fit in the "about me" portion and my widgets are gone and for all its simplicity I can't figure out how to get them back. Not that any of you care about what is in my personal library, but it makes me happy and now it's gone. Oh, and I hate the font of my header, but I have absolutely no idea how to change that. Grrrr.....

I'll try to blog something of more note soon.

The Perfect Storm

On May 30th Erik received an email from a prof at George Fox who was looking to hire a student or 2 for a project he would be working on in southern Oregon for about 4-5 days. It is work that Erik has done before with this prof and he enjoys it. To get paid for it would be a bonus particularly considering it would be about the same amount that he would make in a month of work at REI. Seems like a no brainer, right? Here's the catch. The trip is to take place June 10 - 14. I believe it was just the day before when Erik and I had been discussing how huge my belly was and how neither of believed I would make it to week 40. When we agreed to select a date, he actually chose the 13th. I went more conservative with the 17th thinking how charming it would be to give birth on Father's Day. The overall point being, we both were confident the baby would come early, so how much of a risk would we be taking with him being gone for 5 days this late in the game. But we also knew that if he didn't go, and the baby did not arrive we would totally be kicking ourselves for passing up the opportunity not to mention the $$ right before I start maternity leave. So we discuss and agree that he will take the trip and if the baby comes, it comes and lots of fathers miss it, but life goes on.

The following week on June 4th, I have my regular weekly appointment and when the nurse takes my blood pressure, she looks at me and says "you're not usually high, are you?" To which I promptly reply "no, never". She takes it again and again I am in the 140/90 range which is not horrible, but for someone who hangs around the 120/60 area, it puts up this big waving red flag. Great. So in a nutshell, they send me home with this jug to collect a 24 hour urine sample, tell me to take the next 2 days off of work and come back on Wednesday the 6th to check the bp again. I have never missed a day of work for anything pregnancy related so I don't like this one bit, but I follow the orders. Let me just say though, how difficulat it is to go home with the instruction that 'we have some concerns, so we need you to go home and relax'. Sure, no problem. I'll just relax. Go back on Wednesday and the bp is now 167 or 176 over something ridiculous. They take it again and it drops down to 158 over something - still too high. Oh yeah, I failed to mention that Erik also had a retreat coming up on Friday and Saturday for the class he had been teaching. Not as far away as the other trip, but 2 full days of class regardless. So I of course then burst into tears over the fact that we have one day until he is gone for a full week and I am now considered a moderate to high risk pregnancy. I have never been any risk, in fact, I tend to be a downright boring pregnancy! This is not right at all! They start talking preeclampsia and induction and all kinds things that terrify me. Ultimately, the decision made was to admit me for 24 hours of monitering and then determine what the risk factor truly is at this point. I'm a little relieved though none too happy about spending the night in the hospital. They get me all set up in my room and Erik goes to make arrangements for the kids and work and such so he can spend the night with me. Meanwhile, they hook me up to the monitor to take my bp every 10 minutes and lo and behold it begins to drop down to the 130's range. Amidst the variety of folks talking to me we go from checking to see if I am "favorable" for an induction to the possibilty of being sent home. Finally, I was discharged with instruction to once again 'take it easy', no more work, and twice a week visits to the clinic for bp and urine checks. I promise Erik that I get the message and I will not worry one bit about any of the dishes in the kitchen or laundry to be done. I will absolutely chill out until he gets back from his trip, and then I will breathe a huge sigh of relief and probably have the baby soon after he gets home once all the stress is gone.

So we decide to leave Q and A at the neighbors place overnight so we can just get a good night's rest. The next morning I get up and decide to do a little of my prenatal yoga to help me start the day nice and relaxed. It was working just fine until my water broke. And we're off again! Only this time we know we will not leave the hospital again without a baby. What I did not expect was that my labor would never really get started on it's own despite the water breaking. I called the midwife just to let her know we would probably be in sometime, but she quickly corrected me and let me know that under my current circumstances they wanted me to head right in to the hospital so I could be monitored there. Lovely. Again we do as we're told all the while waiting for some kind of regular contractions to kick in which they never do. That monster Pitocin is there just around the corner lying in wait for me, I just know it. My midwife checks in with me, we talk again of what some of the risks are that we are looking at with my water already broken and my bp still running on the high end of the spectrum. She said she would give it about 12 hours before she really starts getting pushy about moving things along. After she leaves, Erik and I talk and agree that if we end up with Pitocin, we really don't want to start the process at 8:00pm just as I'm really starting to get tired. So we set 2:00pm as the deadline.
Again, because of the stupid bp, I have to be - at the very least - hooked up to a fetal monitor along with periodic bp checks so I am not allowed to leave the room and wander the halls in an effort to get things moving.



They were kind enough to let me have some kind of wireless fetal monitor so I could at least pace around my room and we did have windows with a halfway decent view. Still nothing. 2:00 comes and goes. Around 2:30 Maggie - my midwife - and her student show up to discuss. It still takes me awhile, but Erik and I both know this is what needs to happen. We all have our vision of what our birth experience should look like, but I really did not want to be foolish either. So we give the green light to get the pit drip started. It takes awhile to actually get all that stuff going I guess, so it was actually around 4:30pm when they actually got me hooked up and they did still allow me to have some mobility instead of making me stay in the bed. I have to give a big kudos also to my L&D nurse whose name actually escapes me now, or Maggie who wrote the orders, but the Pitocin was not nearly as horrible as I had prepared myself for it to be. For the most part I still got breaks to rest a little in between contractions and to be honest the pain of my first 2 kids is lost in the fog of the past so I can not really say that the pain of these was significantly worse. Labor is labor. It hurts. Period. Finally, though, at 9:17pm, our second son was born.

So all of that to say we are pleased to introduce you to Milo Jude Young.




After a few minor issues that kept him in the NICU for about 4-5 hours we were finally all together by about 3:00am on Friday morning.

It truly did feel like one of those situations where a lot of undesirable factors and events came together all at once just to make things more complicated to navigate, but ultimately it worked out for the best as it removed the stress of trying to spend a week NOT having a baby. Erik did miss the first day of the retreat, but was able to be there on Saturday to wrap up as well as make the trip to southern Oregon and earn some money. Yeah, it wasn't entirely easy to be home without him, but I definitely felt far more confident doing that than the thought of going through the whole delivery without him there especially with the various decisions to be made. It is so true that every birth experience is just completely different, but it just helps to remind me that so are each of my children. I can't wait to see what new dynamic and joy and surprise Milo will bring to our family. Stay tuned . . . .

Awwww . . . . .

In case you can't quite make it out, that very succinct title is "Missionary Schools and the Enlightenment of the Alaskan Natives: A Theological and Sociological Survey of Russian Orthodox and Protestant Missionary Efforts Among the Natives of the Aleutian Islands and Southeastern Alaska". Yes, I know it may not be the Great American Novel, but to me it is one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written.

Some would say that our decision to move out here was absolutely crazy and if I were being honest I would probably have to admit there are some days they may be right. The last year has been particularly stressful as Erik spent much of it buried in this thesis business. But in March he turned in the final draft and in April he successfully defended it. It wasn't until all was said and done and it had already been turned in for binding that he showed me the dedication page. (Who knew a thesis had a dedication page?) Anyway, it won't mean much to anyone else who may read it, but it means the world to me.

You want me to do WHAT???

So I hit the 36 week mark of my pregnancy and went in for the first of my now weekly checkups. Being that this is my 3rd time around I knew that we would be doing the Group B strep test which means the end of external only exams. I've had 2 kids already so it's not like I'm particularly modest or uncomfortable when it comes to this point. What I did not expect, though, was that I would be asked to do the test MYSELF! I mean, come on, just because I prefer a natural approach to birth (which by the way I find to be a bit of a misnomer because in my opinion, unless the child comes out your nostril, it is a "natural" birth) does not mean that I am really that in touch with my body and would prefer to just do all of the work myself. I won't go into graphic detail, but suffice it to say that this is not a blood test. It involves a rather long q-tip looking thing and the nurse actually used the words "swish it around".

Now, I have actually been strip searched at a South American border crossing before and I would say that this was almost as awkward a moment in my life. And aside from the "do I really want to get to know myself this well?" factor, let me draw your attention back to the first sentence. 36 weeks. That's 9 months kids. My ever expanding belly is at a point where even my husband has told me it looks fake. Just managing to catch the urine sample each visit is getting a little dicey much less a feat like this. I'm still not sure I even did it right, but we'll just trust all will be fine at the delivery.

I am actually very happy to be with this particular practice and I specifically chose this hospital because of its' great reputation. I guess I'll just say that I never realized prenatal care would vary so significantly from one state to another and it's been a bit of an adjustment. Hopefully, there won't be too many more surprises.

Fear of Change

Strangely, this is not like me at all. My basic personality is one that rolls with, embraces, sometimes even thrives on change. But this whole blogger update has me hesitating. They would have me believe that blogging will be even easier and I'll have more flexibility and be able to do lots of new cool tricks. But the problem is that I just really like my template. When I set this whole thing up, I knew that was the one (like ya know with a good melon). ; ) And now I'm just afraid that if I take the plunge and update to the new blogger I will lose my template forever. Silly, I know but I'm just telling you how I feel. Weird where we sometimes find security.

Sisterly love

Not too long ago Erik and Quincy were talking a bit of trash to one another about how their wrestling match planned for the next day was going to go. At one point Erik says, "well, maybe I'll string you up by your toes like a pinata". To which Adelaide - who had been sitting quietly on Erik's lap the whole time - pipes up with "YEAH! And get some CANDY out of him!!

Nice to know the girl has her priorities straight.

Pascha

I don't know that I will ever be able to successfully capture the experience that is Pascha (Orthodox Easter). For one, you can't just jump in to Pascha without prefacing with the entire season of Great Lent and the journey that that is. This is only our second time around and while we did not participate to the same extent as we did last year - specifically in the area of fasting, but also with the myriad other services that take place - it was still an impactful (is that a word?) experience. At the very least, the kids were content to go and sleep in the parish hall during the Divine Liturgy allowing us to take more of it in. By the time it was over some of the the older kids had joined them so all were actually awake and a bit giddy with anticipation of the banquet to come as well as the fact that it was the middle of the night and they were in their sleeping bags in their Sunday School classroom. If that is all they take from it, it's actually fine with me because at least they got some sense of the excitement and joy that surrounds this holiday. The transition to the Orthodox Church has been kind of rough on them because they are not "entertained" as was the case in most other churches we have attended. This was exciting and different and I believe it is something they will look forward to with eagerness next year.

Soooo, since I am not willing to take the necessary time to describe the whole thing I will just say that it is all just dripping with tradition and symbolism and a sense of eternal community. And regardlesss of your faith tradition, if you have never taken part in Lent (Eastern or Western) I would highly recommend it. Most of my life it always seemed that Easter just kind of snuck up on me, but that is no longer the case. Try it out next year and see if I don't speak the truth.

Finally, what post about Easter would be complete without at least a couple of pictures of kids hunting eggs. Unfortunately, mine were so intent on the search, I couldn't seem to catch a photo with them looking at ME. They most certainly were not interested in the distraction of mom with her camera and posterity and what not. Till next year . . . . Christ is Risen!

For my friend Cori (the climber)

Maybe if they made this kind of harness for grown ups, you would feel braver . . . . or maybe not. If it's any consolation, I'm certain that you made it much higher than Adelaide and that she would be terribly envious of the matching pink hat and belt. = )
Oh yeah, and be glad Chuck doesn't work for REI because this was at our Christmas party.

Spring Break

Fortunately, Erik and Quincy's spring breaks fell on the same week so, miracle of miracles, we had one day where none of us had to be anywhere. So we took off for the coast, this time to Astoria. For you movie folks, this is the charming seaside community that was the location for 2 80's favorites, "Goonies" and "Short Circuit". We didn't spend much time actually in town except to eat lunch, but Erik did promise that next time we go he will be doing the 'Truffle Shuffle' in front of the Goonies house. But for this visit we headed out to Ft. Stevens to play in the sand and taunt the sea. I look forward to the time when we can spend more days like this . . . . .

Another year older . . . times 2

And then we had birthdays. The kids are 2 years and 12 days apart and this is the first year that we did a joint birthday party. I kind of hate to do that, but there were circumstances - one being duplicate guest lists - that made it seem just more practical. I gave them the option, and after a little thought they decided it was okay to have one shared party. Fortunately, since the advent of Belleville Lego sets, they were also able to agree on a single "theme".

I hesitate to post pictures just in case Gayla still checks in here. My efforts seem just a little less than pitiful when compared to the pirate extravaganza she put together. Oh well, we all work with the skills we have right? The kids seemed to have fun.

So here's a little bit of what it looked like . . . .



The kids hung the streamers themselves.










And yes, I know he needs a haircut. . . . .

pictorial catch up

Back in March, we were able to go in with 2 other families on a cabin at Lake Odell in the Cascade mountains for a couple of days of playing in the snow. I actually was a little stressed with work and Erik was probably a lot stressed with his thesis, but we still had a really good time. And we were actually able to get the rare photo of all 4 (or technically 5 as you can tell by my bulging belly) of us together.



The night before we left we decided to go ahead and buy a sled. Huge hit! The only drawback was that after they experienced the sled, we couldn't get them to go more than 30 yards on the snowshoes and forget the skis. Maybe next year. It was still a ball to watch their faces as they sped down the hill again and again.

I'm Ba-ack

So yeah, it's been ohhhh . . . 3 1/2 months since I last posted. So long in fact, that my blog account was taken over by Google and I didn't even know it and besides that I could not remember the proper username and password to log in anyway. But my kids are at the neighbors house and my husband is at work and I decided I would sit down and figure this darn thing out. I have to admit, I'm also embarrassed that the last thing I did actually post was a silly rant. So hopefully I haven't lost the few readers that I did have and I will be providing something for your perusal soon. That doesn't mean it will be good, but it'll be something with which to waste a few moments of your day.

A long overdue rant

www.traveltheroad.com (Yeah, I still don't know how to post links, but in this case it's just as well, since I don't actually recommend this website or the program.)

Sorry, but these guys really annoy me. I have only seen this show a handful of times, but for some reason I keep coming across the same episode and it absolutely makes me crazy! They visit Tibet and witness a sky burial and their portrayal of it is one of the most culturally insensitive, not to mention completely ignorant, things I have ever seen. They know nothing of the Tibetan culture nor the Bhuddist religion. Two things one would think they would have researched just the tiniest bit before heading out to bring the 'light of Jesus' to these seemingly 'hopeless barbarians'. Not to mention educating yourself on something as simple as the weather. No lie, they head for the mountains of Tibet with nothing more than a lightweight rain jacket. I was appalled both as a Christian and as an REI employee.

Oh and the drama of the narraration. It's just ridiculous. And besides all that, what truly called and compassionate missionary takes a camera man with them as they flit through various volatile locations for, oh I don't know, 3-5 days at a time? Now that's certainly making an impact (she said rolling her eyes). I suppose I should watch the series for a while to truly give them a fair shake, but I find it just far too painful and it always puts me in this cranky state. And I don't like being cranky with folks who deep down probably believe the same core things that I do.

You would think I would have learned by now to stay away from TBN. I'm far happier with Globetrekker on OPB.

Rant complete . . . for now.

Something I still miss

Okay, so I have been attending an Orthodox Church fairly regularly for almost a year now and there is much that I love about it. Many of my lifelong paradigms - yeah, I hate that word too, but it's all I could think of - have been altered and many things I held tightly over the years have been released. I don't think there is anything I would change about the way they express their faith. But I have to admit there is one thing that I miss. For lack of a better term, it is contemporary worship. But not just any upbeat guitar and drums with pretty back up singers and a state of the art sound system. And not a bunch of 'Jesus is my boyfriend/girlfriend' type lyrics.

There are a few folks who read this who have had the opportunity to participate in a time of worship with Bob Thomas leading. Bob is one of those rare finds -- talented and humble with this amazing desire to just find and then rest in God's presence. If you would like to come along, he's glad to have you join him. I miss that. I miss the occasional unstructured time in a small group just rolling with wherever the worship takes you. And now that I think a little more about it, I don't think it's necessarily being in the Orthodox church that makes me miss it. I visited other churches when I first moved here that were closer to what I was accustomed to and even they left me feeling a little . . . . I don't know . . . unfulfilled. I know, I know, it is not the purpose of a Sunday service to fulfill me. I just have this little selfish desire inside to find some place or group that gathers maybe once a month or a quarter or something and just goes with it.

It's interesting to me how we all have different ways of being drawn into the presence of God or maybe just sensing that closeness that happens every so often. For some it can only be found in the classical styles of traditional or liturgical churches and this contemporary worship band stuff is just silliness while others feel quite the opposite. I guess there is really no right or wrong. I've tried to convince myself that the whole modernization of the worship was a bad idea, but then I remember a quiet Saturday night in Plano, TX singing "Resting" or "I Love Your Presence" or "I Receive" and I really miss it. I really, really do.