You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Life’ category.
On February 5, 1988, I was 3 1/2 years old. We had been going through the process of moving to a new house. I don’t remember much about that time period; just glimpses and flashes of memories – an empty house at 2655 Sierra Street, a mattress on the floor, a stuffed animal held tight at night.
On that night, 25 years ago, I went to the hospital with my Dad. Honestly, it might have been the day after, but for purposes of this blog we’re going to pretend it was the 5th, OK?
I was so excited! I was wearing a purple shirt. I walked into the hospital room, and saw my mom. In her arms she was holding my brand new baby brother. I walked into the corner, by the couch, and stood there until she beckoned me closer. I peeked over the edge of the bed, nervous, but excited. I saw, for the first time ever, my youngest brother.
I didn’t know then how much joy he would bring me. I didn’t know the love I would feel teaching him something new - the first thing I ever taught him was how to spell “Banana.”
I didn’t know how much I would tease him, how much he would tease me.
I didn’t know he would have the power to break my heart and yet make me feel more loved than any of my other siblings during a lot of my younger years.
I didn’t know he would love me so much, hold my pinky so fiercely, turn to me in times of need as much as he did. I didn’t know what it was to truly love another person because of who they were before he came around.
I didn’t know how he would drive my mom crazy with his mohawk, I didn’t know how he would live so close and yet so far away and drive me crazy.
I didn’t know he would be my adventure-buddy, my friend without judgement.
All I knew was that this little bundle of joy was my brother; his soft cries made me so proud.
In fact, he made me so happy that I didn’t want to leave the side of his bed, so happy in fact, that I peed in my pants, making my dad take me back home in wet britches.
HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY JAKE!
One of the joys of parenting is watching my son discover how he fits into the world.
I have, in my opinion, a highly articulate 2.5 year old. He speaks in full sentences most of the time, although his standard answer is very 2-year-old-esque: “Because I can” or “Because I can’t.” Occasionally we’re able to get better sentences out of him. He has two new things. One of them is to tell us about something he wants to do, or something he wants to happen, and then end it with, “That will be a good idea.” The other new thing is to “match” things.
For example: “I wanna go see Skye and Brian and Papa and Nanny and then play with my race cars and then pet Lucky and that will be a good idea!”
He was laying on his Nanny’s bed, watching Dumbo with her. I brought him Friend-Ent, his favorite stuffed animal, a very tired Dumbo that has been with him almost every night since his birth. He held up his stuffed animal to the TV screen. “Look Nanny, it matches!”
“I want chocolate milk. That will be a good idea, Mommy!” To really feel the genius of this one, you have to mispronounce chocolate – think “cschok-lit.” He pronounces other C-words correctly, but Cschok-lit? I’m not correcting that one until he graduates high school.
For Christmas, his cousins Teresa, James and Mandy gifted him 2 really awesome Dr. Seuss puzzles. When he unwrapped it he got very excited. We asked him what it was and he said, “It’s Dr. Whouss!” Hmm. That’s another thing I’m not correcting. He thinks Dr. Who and Dr. Seuss are the same, and who am I to argue?!
He’s already put both puzzles together and taken them apart multiple times. One of the puzzles is from his favorite book, “Oh, The Places You’ll Go!“ The night he put it together for the first time we read that book at bedtime. He paused on the page that the puzzle is inspired by and said, “Look Mommy! It matches my puzzle! Let’s go put it together. That will be a good idea.”
Some days are crazy and insane. But some days end with him snuggled in my arms, and especially on days like those I find myself unable to articulate how lucky I am to be his Mommy.
Benjamin – on a natural christmas high from getting presents and being surrounded by family and love all day long.
Various friends and family – scattered throughout the house.
Papa and Nanny bought Benjamin a fake black and decker tool set for Christmas so Benjamin could “help” Papa work on stuff. He had cycled through all of his toys at least twice already that day.
Christmas night, 9pm, at home. Benjamin is playing in his playroom, there’s several people in the kitchen baking cookies and Benjamin’s parents and Aunt Charla are in the living room standing around talking about the days events. The weather outside is, appropriately, frightful. Low 30′s with a severe wind chill.
Dim lights. Three adults speaking to each other in murmured conversation as they hear loud footsteps. All heads turn to see the two year old running towards them, still in Christmas best, wild sugar-fuled eyes, small pupils, a large smile, and his left arm raised into a 90 degree angle with his hand holding a small plastic hammer. The child runs through the kitchen, deftly dodging the cookie-bakers, straight at the small group of adults. At the last minute he swerves to the right, still at full speed, towards the closed back door. Without a word he flings the door open with his empty right hand and starts to push against the cold breeze. The adults watch as the cold temperature registers in his brain and he steps back, slamming the door, and turns to look at the small group of adults who up until this point have been silently watching.
JUSTIN: Benjamin, what in the world are you doing?!
The child looks at his father with the wild, excited eyes of a two year old on Christmas night.
BENJAMIN: I WANT TO BANG THINGS!
JUSTIN: Son, that feeling will never go away.
The child, unaware of why his comments are funny, turns from the adults and starts to hammer away on the closed door. The outside chill, for now, forgotten.
These will only be funny to you if you are a Dr. Who fan who happens to watch Super Readers…. but I included links so you can get the gist of it.
From bathtime tonight, two brief glimpses at life with Benjamin:
Benjamin plays with a large camouflage bucket that will fit on his head. He puts the bucket on his head so that the main bucket is over his face.
“Mommy! I got a bucket on my head!”
“Benjamin! Can you say ‘are you my mummy?‘”
So Benjamin holds the bucket over his head, looks right at me, and says (with it echoing in the bucket), “Are you my mummy?“
Benjamin and I are playing Ducky Superheros with his three duckies. I realize he keeps spitting as he laughs.
“Benjamin! Stop spitting, that’s gross.”
“I can’t stop spitting.”
“You can’t stop spitting? Why not?”
Seriously. For anyone who doesn’t have a talkative toddler yet… hang in there. These days are amazing.
Two quick toddler quotes for you, although one is dialogue so you can get the context of the ridiculous.
“I can’t go potty, I’m crying!”
“Benjamin, what do you want for dinner? Do you want some chili?”
“Yeah! I want CHILI!”
“Ok buddy, I will make it in a few minutes.”
In the meantime, he proceeds to repeatedly ask for chili. I go to the kitchen and heat up the chili.
I set the hot bowl on the counter (out of his reach).
He reaches for the hot bowl, saying “Chili!”
“Benjamin, don’t touch that, it’s hot! Mommy is going to get you your own bowl.”
I get him his own bowl, dump half of the heated up chili in to it, and turn to him, bowl in hand.
“Benjamin, do you want cheese on your chili?”
He then proceeds to start crying. I was like, do whaaaa??
“Ok. Well, then here’s your chili buddy!”
He looks in the bowl.
“That’s not chili!!!”
I’m like, do whaaa?
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not chili!!”
“Benjamin, yes, that is chili, just like we ate two days ago!”
“No, it’s not chili!” He is adamant.
“Well, then, son, what do you think it is? What is this?” I point to the chili.
“It’s Rock ‘n Roll!”
He never did admit that chili was chili, and he eventually had soup for dinner. Ahh, two year olds are awesome.
These are just some things on my radar, things that I have starred in my google reader, things that make my heart burst and make me cry in the middle of the day when no one is looking (I hope). Enjoy.
Guest Post at A Deeper Story: On Sending my Husband into Brothels.
A bold reality for some people. Such bravery, such sacrifice. Not necessarily easy reading, but the truth that is written here is beautiful.
In which he wouldn’t do anything different (and neither would I)
I love this because of the last few paragraphs, it speaks to me and my life right now.
Sarah – A Woman of Valor
I don’t know if it’s kosher for me to post it here, or hyperlink, or what, so just click and look.
A Mom’s Back to School Blues
I really like this, even though I don’t have school aged children yet. It’s a good reminder of what the future holds.
I just had to share this quote because, well, I think it needs to be read. And reread. Sarah Bessey is one of the few reasons I haven’t completely given up on reading blogs. Some days there’s too much anger and misunderstood words on the internet, and she is a peace to me in the storm. I love her writing, so let me share what she wrote about the Shikh Temple shooting.
Hard conversations are coming, perhaps legislation, around gun control, about hatred, racism, religion, about our culture’s glorification of violence, our nationalism, and the divisions between us, yes, those conversations need to happen, but not just now: now is the time for grieving, now is the time for loving, for burying, for mourning with those who mourn, for gathering humanity together, and for compassion.
I believe that it is precisely because of my Christian faith that I am sitting my heart down, mourning with those that mourn, grieving and honouring, loving and praying. Love casts out fear, and may the mouths of the faithful be filled with words of Love and hope and peace, never fear.
Thank you, Sarah, for your beautiful words.
Last week you turned the big TWO!! I was reading the letter I wrote you at 21 months and it’s amazing how much you have changed. Even over just a few months you change and grow.
You still talk and talk and talk. You love to run through the house, play with swords, and tickle Mommy and Daddy. The dogs drive you crazy (especially Frankie), and when you and Frankie are energetic and chasing each other you both drive US crazy. We’ve been swimming half a dozen times this summer and if I put you in your swim donut you can swim around the pool yelling “Kick! Kick! Kick!” as your legs frantically propel you forward. It’s a joy to watch.
We had your birthday party the day after your actual birthday. Lots of friends and family came over. I made you chocolate and vanilla cupcakes with chocolate and vanilla ice cream. You started crying when I lit the candle on your cupcake and everyone started singing. I’m not sure why – maybe the attention? Maybe the singing? However, as soon as we were done and you got to eat the cupcake, you were much better!
You got some neat toys for your birthday and love to play with them. Lots of animals and blocks and cars and trucks. Puzzles and dinosaurs and oh, my, the vehicles. Our house has become a speedway and you are the driver of racing machines darting in, out, and over the couch.
We took a trip to California almost two months ago. We were worried about how you would do in the plane, but we shouldn’t have worried. You love any kind of vehicle, planes included. Daddy sat next to you on the plane and talked about how you were going to go really, really fast, and go up, up, up! You loved it. We rode in the car for ages and ages, and you rarely fussed about it. We drove through random subdivisions in Elk Grove, and you asked if we were going to Mae Mae’s house! It was the cutest thing, and you made Mae Mae’s mom giggle about it when I told her. We went to a wedding for my best friend Amy. You love Amy, and you loved dancing at Amy and Keith’s wedding. We went to Monterey Bay Aquarium, and you had such a blast hanging out with your 3 cousins. We went camping (which you LOVED) at my old camping site in California. It was heart-wrenchingly beautiful to see you scale the same rocks I had scaled as a child. To see you in the “rock club” and down at the water’s edge was an incredible experience for me. Even though the water was freezing cold you stood in it until your feet turned to chubby little icicles, and you loved it. Watching you eat s’mores with your cousins is a memory I will treasure forever.
A few weeks ago we travelled to Senatobia, Mississippi to visit Papa’s parents. Mimi and PaPaw loved you, and we loved visiting them, and you had a good time running around their house and showing off. A mere week after that we went down to Houston for your cousin Austin’s graduation. Each road trip you demonstrated your willingness to sit still when needed, your love of movement, and your love of music. I love how you love music.
Son, I’ll be honest, because it’s my letter and I’m allowed to be: I don’t know what the future holds for you. What I do know is that you capture the attention of people – your joy, your mannerisms, and your movement. Watching you is like watching life take place – it’s like observing the best the world has to offer. Maybe you’re just like every other two-year old on the planet, I’m not sure. I hope that I can teach you to harness that attention-grabbing skill and use it to better the world around you. I know that living with you teaches me every day the meaning of slow down. Observe. Breathe. Love. Be patient.
Your Daddy and I talk about you, often, after you’ve finally given up and gone to sleep. We lay in bed, snuggled, and talk about whether or not we’re doing a good job (most days we think we’re doing OK). Recently we were talking about your exposure to television and video games. We don’t want to shelter you from the world and its issues, but we don’t want to desensitize you either. It’s tough to say “No, we won’t play this video game while Benjamin is awake, because it depicts violence too accurately,” but that’s exactly where we are at.
This world is dangerous and violent and broken, son, and you’ll have your whole life to learn that. I hope that we can teach you about the beauty of the world first, and it’s dark side later.
Eventually, Lucky will die, and you will learn grief. Eventually, you will ask where Mommy’s parents are, and you will see me cry. Eventually, you will ask why Jesus hangs on the cross, broken and beaten, and you will learn about sacrifice.
Our hope, though all of that, is to teach you about love. Love that shines through grief and brokenness, love that taught Mommy how to heal, love that makes Daddy get up even on the days when his depression beats his heart and soul, love that put Christ on the cross and love that triumphs all of the dark things in this world.
However, before you have to learn all of those things, I want you to know joy. I want to continue to see my baby boy, beautiful and full of grace and energy, running around squealing with laughter. I want to continue to love you so much it hurts. I want to see animals for the first time all over again, though your eyes. I want to continue to chase the dogs in the backyard until we collapse into fits of giggles. I want to dance with you in the living room until I’m sweaty and exhausted. I want these good and wonderful things for you so that when darkness seems to sneak in, you can remember the things from the light.
I hope you understand, one day, how hard it is trying to figure all this stuff out. I hope you have enough grace to forgive us when we mess up. I hope I have enough grace to forgive myself! But either way, we’ll muddle through this crazy adventure together. Being a Mommy is quite an amazing experience in general, but being Mommy to you – well – I think that’s my favorite job yet.
I love you son, happy 2nd birthday.
Today is my first day back to technology for almost 3 weeks. The vacation was amazing and lovely, and I came to work with 1000+ on my Google Reader and over 600 work emails. As I work through the deluge of information I came across one scripture listed two different places (here and here). I really, really, really like the scripture – which is one of the types of scriptures that you’re just going to read over until someone makes you stop and see it for the first time all over again. Here is the scripture in its entirety:
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8, NIV)
There is one other part of the bible in the New Testament that sums up what we should do:
One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:35-40, NIV)
I like how it’s worded in both portions of scripture. The second one is much more well-referenced, and for good reason since Christ says it is the greatest commandment. But the first – to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly – I think it sums up a lot of what we need to do now. But when I think about how much outrage and judgement I see on a daily basis (not just from Christians, mind you) I think that the first scripture from Micah is a good reminder that we maybe should see a bit more often. Because loving mercy is hard. Walking humbly is difficult. Acting justly – while loving mercy – now THAT is tough. If we can maintain love throughout it all I think the world would be pretty amazing.
Camping was an integral part of my childhood. We all loved the outdoors, we were never more at home than when we were in the middle of nowhere. There was one particular spot that we found when we were pretty young that became “our” spot. We always called it Cherry Lake.
That was the only year it really snowed while we were there. I remember pulling up to the campsite and hiding in the car while Alan, Mom and Dad set up the campsite. While we slept, snow fell across the campground and blanketed the world in white. This picture doesn’t do it justice.
I remember waking up when we camped there. It was always so cold in the morning, so I’d be buried deep in my sleeping bag and listen to the rustling of the tent, the songbirds, the crackle of the fire. I could hear my parents hushed voices and the occasional laugh as they shared their morning coffee. If I close my eyes I feel myself transport back to those moments, when the world was perfect and at peace.
As we visited and grew older we wandered further and further away. The following picture is the “Rock Club,” a place just far enough away from the campsite to make us feel independent. We would wander there daily, hang out on rocks and talk about life, or have adventures in between the cracks. We would climb to the top of the rocks, and look out, terrified of falling and thrilled at the prospects ahead of us.
We went there every year, sometimes twice a year. I remember being 9 years old, laying on a hot rock and contemplating the grandness of God. I remember learning to whittle sticks, and trampling through brush to find a “walking stick.” I remember seeing a water snake for the first time in the lake down the hill.
It was always the most beautiful place on earth.
I climbed up this wall once, and got all the way to the top. On the way back down I felt myself losing my grip, but something pushed me back against the wall. I believed in angels before, but that experience pretty much cinched the deal.
The last time we visited Cherry Lake it was 2002 and right before we moved to Texas.
Ten years is a long time.
Since that time, my older sisters have tried in vain to find our old campsite. They’ve combed Stanislaus Forest and driven around for hours, all to no avail. When I visited in 2010 I tried to help them find it and we were yet again unsuccessful. I told them I’d see what I could do in the future for my next visit.
So I contacted the Stanislaus National Forest Office in Groveland, since that was closest to where we thought the campsite was. I spoke with a charming lady named Gail who was willing to listen to my story and my plea for help. She gave me her email address and I sent her a bunch of pictures, and a map of the grounds (as best I could remember). Then I waited.
She called me back just a short time ago and thanked me for giving her such a fun project. She said she had some of her park rangers act as detectives – print up the pictures and try to match up the pictures while they were out driving around. She thanked me for the map I had drawn, and said we had done a good job remembering.
An old ranger, one who had lived there forever, knew exactly where we were talking about when he saw the pictures. We had always called it Cherry Lake, but the park rangers knew it as Cherry Barrow. Gail told me if we drove to the Groveland Park Ranger station she would be able to show us exactly how to get there.
I cried when she told me.
I’m going back in just over a week – I’m flying to California Monday for Amy’s wedding and after the wedding I’m heading to visit my sisters. We will go camping, hopefully at this spot, and I will once again drink in the beauty.
I can’t wait.