Holy Saturday

" . . . . . then immediately he and all his family were baptized."  Acts 16:33

Nervous

Tomorrow morning at approximately 10:15am our family will be baptized, chrismated and received into the Orthodox Church.  A short while after that we will take our first communion in about 3 years.  Aside from all of the petty little logistics that I allow to rattle around in my mind and how things can go "technically" wrong, I am chewing on the profoundness of this moment.  It may sound strange to someone outside of this, but for me this is an event near to that of a wedding.  Even though I have been a practicing Christian for most of my life, this is what I believe I will look at as my conversion.  The commitment is huge, not only to Christ but also to this specific body of believers who have opened their arms to us.  Much like my wedding day, I just want to let go of the details and let the day take it's course whether Milo screams through his baptism or one of the older 2 resist putting their heads under the water or I just do something stupid.  I want to take in every moment so it's not just a big blur when I look back on it.  I want to honor those who have gone before me by not taking a single step or prayer lightly and embracing every second.  

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.