I love 10.  There is something about it that is so even, so centered, so open

She is so curious about the world.  Most days she comes home saying, “Mama, did you know______?”  And she proceeds to tell me everything.

These are ten things that she loves:

-parks

-animals of all kinds

-sleeping in

-being barefoot

-hotels

-singing and songwriting

-cartwheels

-Colombia

-watermelon and honeydew

-crafting

She has a sense of style like no other. (Well, the closest is her Aunt Wendy)

She makes us laugh every day.

These are 10 things she does NOT love:

-bossy people

-fighting

-grapefruit

-dirty shoes

-bugs

-sweat

-people using her things

-Family Video (because of scary movie images)

-long track meets or swim meets

-dark chocolate

I hope she is able to maintain her sense of adventure, her confidence, her ability to adapt to unpredictable situations.  She was the child who invented the game “go with the flow” in Colombia.

People say she looks just like me.  I am grateful.  Most days, I wish I could be just like her.

And while she misses her friends in Colombia every day, she is gradually forming a community here.  She will always have friends because she cares so deeply about relationships.  I am not sure I remember seeing anyone express such sincere and enthusiastic gratitude for each and every one of her birthday gifts.

We love you, sweet 10 year old.  Thank you for all you add to our family!

On February 14, I started my workday early at the neighborhood coffee shop.  It was a quiet morning and I was enjoying the calm.  I had no specific plans for Valentine’s Day, except for the very large box of chocolates I bought for the kids and the red food dye I would later put into crepes for supper.

My sweet friend sent me a text asking where I was.  She needed to drop something off for me.  She arrived, embraced me warmly and put this lovely little package into my hands.

“Just a little something to show my gratitude for our friendship,”  she said, looking at me with kindness.

I felt the weight of it, and I was intrigued by the beautiful fabric and the way it was tied together with string and ribbon.  I decided that it would be too complicated to open it and re-do the beautiful package.  So, I tucked it into my bag and saved it until I got home and could take a picture of it.  As I walked from place to place throughout the day, I noticed the weight of it in my bag.

When I got home I was excited to open up this love-gift.  I reached for my camera only to see that the batteries were dead.  So, I set it on the table, plugged in the camera, and waited.

This treasure was on my mind all throughout the day.

The next morning, I woke up early and slowly opened this beautiful package.

The smooth weightyness of the stone soothed me.  I was reminded of the friendships I have had in my life that represent deep understanding, truth, and belonging.  This is one I will treasure for a long time.

The stone now lives on my desk, and when there are moments of stress and discomfort I hold it in the palm of my hand and remember the love it represents.

Coming back home has been hard on prior relationships. When they say it’s like starting over, it really is.  People move on and form new habits, rituals, and folklore without you.  This is the way life happens.  And people who have been gone come back different, strange, and sometimes hard to read.

I am truly blessed when I find genuine kindness and efforts to really understand.  I want to remember these and hold them sacred.  I will never take them for granted.

Thank you for the love, dear friend.

My dear Lydia took forever to come out.  Labor pains were strong and regular during our card game Saturday night.  I was admitted to the hospital on Sunday evening, and she did not decide to turn her head and slip into the world for two more days, arriving Tuesday, March 10, 1998.  Because the process took so much out of her, her breathing was labored and they swooped her away to special care.  From her very first moments, I worried about Lydia.  In fact, if we want to be completely honest, I think I can admit I worried about her before she was even conceived.

I am very aware that this has changed the way we parent her.  Perhaps it is the same with all first children: the newness of learning how to parent gave us immense joy and deep worry.  For the first couple years of her life she was the absolute center of our universe.  Every move we made was for her.

My girl, the on-and-off vegetarian, who requested grapefruit for her birthday breakfast.  Incidentally, she also asked for a wombat, small house in Costa Rica, St. Bernard puppy, new house, 5, 235 oreos, and a trip to Australia (among other things).

Teenagers ARE a little out-of-touch with reality.

But they are also deeply imaginative and hopeful.

She is a dreamer.  There is so much in her head and her heart, and only a very small percentage of it ever gets seen or heard by those around her.

In the very little moments we are together in the car she gives me little tidbits of the day.  Though sometimes she just says it was “terrible” and “fine” all at once, and that’s all I get.  I know there is so much more…that her mind and her heart are over-flowing with information that she ponders.

I know this because as a young child she came to me saying she could not sleep because her head was too full.  I gave her a pencil and told her to empty it onto paper.  After 8 pages front and back, there was still more coming.

She is so deeply connected to things that most people do not see, feel, or notice.  We get to experience her reality only when we are very lucky.

For some reason (I don’t remember why) some of her friends call her Dory.  Maybe because the internalness of her makes her appear spacey sometimes often.  Because of her, Abby wrote in her spelling sentences “There is a lot of clumsiness in our house.”

She is grumpy and ridiculous at times.  Aren’t we all?

Here at this table, as I listened to her laugh with friends, enjoying exotic flavors and big flames, I realized that maybe I can finally let go of that worry.

I felt a deep spiritual understanding that all. will. be. well.

Aaron and I already feel her separating from us, coming to her own understanding of God and the universe.  We are ready to know her as she moves into adulthood, humbled by what we could have done differently and grateful for the opportunity to try again.

Thank you, my sweet girl, for small but bright windows into your world, for your quiet brilliance, and for making us laugh.  Fifteen is going to be very good, I am sure of it.

When Andy was three years old, he put on his cowboy hat and stood up to sing a song in front of our church.  The song went like this,

“If you got trouble, and you need a helping hand, if you got trouble, and you need a helping hand, if you got trouble, and you need a helping hand, come to me, I will be your friend.”

From the very beginning, this boy knew what “got trouble” meant.  I don’t know whether to say something went wrong or something went right with the development of his limbic system, but he feels everything, for everyone, all the time.   And it wears him out.

So we try to find good channels for him to express this emotion, instead of aggression and shutting down.  One of these is music.  And he is full of it.

It also seems to be something that is just inside of him.  We didn’t put it there, and we don’t do much, if anything to make it come out.

Thirteen is hard.  So tender.  And when you are someone that feels it all, it can be paralyzing as well.

I am proud of the way he uses his body to work through it, on the field, in the classroom, through the strings, brass, or snare drum.  He is finding his own way.

Thank you, Andy, for all you teach us about being human.  You are the real-est person I know, and I am in love with all thirteen years of your existence.

One of the books on my “recently-read” list is Happier at Home by Gretchen Rubin.  I was prompted to read more about happiness after watching the documentary, Happy.  I wrote down her list of recommendations for increasing personal happiness to remember when there are less-than-happy times in our household.  Here is her list:

1. Act the way I want to feel.

2.  Create adventures.

3.  Embrace here.

4.  Enter into the interests of others.

5.  Pay Attention.

6.  Remember now.

7.  Stay calm.

8.  Create a threshold ritual.

9.  Find a true simplicity.

10. Give warm greetings and farewells.

11.  Dig deep.

I am grateful to be cared for as an “alumni” of Mennonite Central Committee.  Grateful for supportive processing, worship, and the sharing of bread and tears with others who have been transplanted from one part of the world to another.  

So often we feel like we are spinning with memories, grief, identity-confusion, and wonder.

We shared with others, recognizing our pain, and challenging each other to move forward:

“What gifts did you discover during your time away? What do you feel a burden for?  In what ways have you been wounded?  

What work do you need to do to find God’s healing? What is your greatest hope?”

While the participants had been spread out all over the world, we held hands, laughed, and looked each other in the eye:

“I know you, and I don’t even know you.”

The learning and the struggle is steep, on-going, and so hard to understand.

And while we carry so much, and it feels like tremendous work, the kids reminded us all of Hildegard of Bingen with the mantra they learned in their work with the facilitators:

“I, too, am like a feather, carried by the breathe of God.”

This work; these relationships; This understanding of the expansiveness of God’s kingdom;  This is why we did it.

     Once again, I am reminded of all who have mentored my children along the way.  I am convinced that they are different people now, because of these relationships.  They will carry inspiration, hope, and faith that they learned from all of our friends in MCC.

We all will.

“I beg assistance, God of my Journey, to recognize the pilgrim part of my heart; to treasure all that is gift and blessing; to hold all of life in open hands.”

(Joyce Rupp)

 “I, too, am like a feather, carried on the breathe of God.”