Nutmeg's Birthday

For Nutmeg's birthday this year I think I'll just share a poem that Pixie wrote about her sister last month. Here it is:








My Sister

My sister [Nutmeg] is as
cute as a small
kitten. When she
cracks a smile
it is like water
bursting out of

a rock on a hot
day. She is as
stubborn as the
ocean, whose
waves bever
stop coming in
and falling
back. She is one 
of a kind. Her hair
and eyes, the color
of bison fur. Those
eyes are full of 
fire, yet they sparkle
like ice, too. She
wants her own
way, to do what
she wants. Like
a star in the universe,
She is beautiful.

The Pickle Tree--or, What's Next?

On a dark rainy night in Santa Barbara (it must be winter!) the Pickle Tree on campus was lit.

I finished teaching Spanish for the fall term.

We hosted our community group for dinner, and it was chili instead of our usual pasta variation because

J took the kids to the pickle tree lighting.

There is singing. Cookies. Cider. and SANTA!

 (Featuring Nutmeg's favorite lovey, and here's a hint--it's NOT Santa).

I wasn't there, as I was home with our community group, so I'm extra grateful for the photo. Nutmeg's suspicious attitude toward Santa is captured just as J's words painted it ten days ago.

I should be washing dishes right now

or working on those last two homemade Christmas presents that got decided-but-not-done before Advent

or sleeping

(Ok, probably not that, the kids are up and watching a movie in the next room)

because I am home on a date night with two kids with the stomach flu while J fulfills our rsvp commitment elsewhere.

Our hot water heater gave up the fight today, and my hair was already dirty. At some point I'll have to brave the icy water. 

Today I delivered 30 individual-sized portions of flan to a room full of second graders, made from my great-grandmother's recipe. I cannot explain how rewarding it was to sit next to Bud's desk during the Heritage Feast with my greasy hair and his huge smile. I had been concerned that I wouldn't make it back from Wombles' doctor appointment in time.

Acceptance letters to students were sent today, welcoming the community of people with whom we plan to traipse around Europe next fall. So that part of that planning is done, and there should be very few late nights left poring over application files.

One of our favorite TV series of all time is "The West Wing." In many episodes, at the end when the crisis has passed, the President always asked: "What's Next?", and the crew got bustling again, which always put the former crisis into perspective. There was only looking ahead. That hullabaloo had been an important hullabaloo, but it was over and there was the next one to tackle.

We are now into Advent, and this one is sliding along too quickly and I feel like I am "What's Next?"-ing before I am done with the task at hand. And so in spite of the fact the we can't find the skirt Pixie needs for her "uniform" tomorrow morning I am sitting for a minute to try, I guess, to step out of the noise. To try to remember:

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
    in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

But it goes on:

"But you were unwilling."

 ^{(Isaiah 30:15-16)}

^{Unlike the West Wing crew, we do not only look forward. We also have the gift of looking back: to promises made and kept, feeding the hope in those promises-made-and-not-yet seen. And so as I walk steadily and falteringly forward in our remembrance of Christ's first coming and our hope of his return, I long to lean on verse 15. And to lean into salvation not by to-do lists checked off, or hours of missed sleep or showers of hot water but in the faithful love of a Savior.}

^{Alleluia! Come, Lord Jesus.}

 

 

Happy Advent!

My time preparing for Advent this year has been very rich; and I am glad that today we are finally here. I look forward to sharing a bit more about that soon. For tonight, though, I'll share this quick video of Nutmeg.

Any time Nutmeg sees candles or cake she calls out, "Happy Birthday!" in Margaretese. So today when she saw the advent wreath with all of the candles, she was at it again. She's somewhere between singing and chanting in the video, and the birthday is for Jesus.

 

Along with Nutmeg I am also looking forward to celebrating the Incarnation. As we said together in church this morning,

"God remembered his promise
to reconcile the world to himself;
He has come among us in Jesus Christ,
the eternal word made flesh.
He is the long-awaited Savior,
fully human and fully divine,
conceived by the spirit of God
and born of the virgin Mary."

The whiteboard on the side of our refrigerator has changed from counting down to Advent to counting down to CHRISTMAS! I let it rest today but it's all set for tomorrow. Twenty-two days!

May you know the joy of waiting in hope and with patience,
H

Another Saturday Night

Well, it's Saturday night. I have a Saturday night tradition, and it's working out lesson plans for Spanish classes for the coming week and folding four or five or eight loads of laundry. The laundry's wending its way to me and I'm a third of the way through what I need to do for Spanish. Our special fall Saturday tradition also includes football, and I still have a wee bit of an adrenaline glow from the spectacular heights and depths of college football this evening--which propel Notre Dame to number one in the rankings and put the SEC back on the path to play for the national championship. 

YOWZA! **high kicks**

ahem.

As I work, I have a litany running through my head over and over again, and sometimes through my ears. We're singing it for our confession of faith tomorrow morning at church. I'm singing it every hour. 
 

(Here it is)

So grateful that even in the midst of happy excitement over something so changeable and unreliable as BCS standings there is a firm bedrock of continuity and faithfulness. 

Happy Sunday to you,
H

Full of Good Things

On Sunday Mornings, at the end of our worship service, we receive the benediction. A blessing. I often hold out my hands in a posture of receptivity. If my fingers are not tightly cupped together, Bud will reach over and squeeze them together, whispering, "Don't let any of the blessing slip through!"

Yesterday, while Bud was picking out ukelele chords in class and Wombles was spinning wildly on some playground contraption, I stood talking with other mothers of young musician/playground reveler types. One of these women is due quite soon to add a fourth child to their family--and she was wishing aloud for just the right reply to those comments one tends to hear in public when one is pregnant with three children in two. Perhaps you don't know those comments. Perhaps you've made them. In any case, a common one is, "You sure have your hands full."

To this one I always responded, "Yes! Full of good things."

Well, I haven't been pregnant for nearly two years, and I yet I find myself using this phrase in modified form all of the time. Our days are full--"but full of good things!" My schedule is full--perhaps overflowing--"but full of good things!" And it is true. And I rejoice in the old and in the new: hosting our community group for weekly dinner and study; teaching Spanish; homeschooling; doing life with friends at our weekly supper swap; joining the liturgy team at church; and being mom to two public-school students this year, as well. These are all good things.

And yet other parts of life are falling through the cracks, literally slipping through the fingers of these hands that are overflowing.Thank-you notes written and never mailed, phone calls never made, conversations never enjoyed (or struggled through). Bills paid late. Car keys lost. And so, as good as good is, we know we need to make some changes. We won't have time for THAT conversation until mid-December; I'll let you know.

Another thing falling through the cracks is time to think, reflect, and consider. Hence this blog post, scrawled initially via spiral-bound notebook with a sharp Ticonderoga while I finish off Wednesday night's enchiladas. As it turns out, there are only 24 hours in a day; trying to squeeze out more by staying up late doesn't actually work (*news flash*). I just wake up tired. I recently explained to someone that if time were money, we would be living hand-to-mouth (but remember! So many good things). Upon closer inspection, however, I find I am frittering some away on the mental dietary equivalent of Tic-Tacs and peanut butter cups. Arguably tasty, but not healthy enough to warrant the expense.

I am not even going to go back and count metaphors in this post. What I mean is that as we get ready for Advent, I will be walking away from Facebook. And I will be checking e-mail much less frequently. I would love to be in touch, though...maybe we could talk on the phone. Or you could stop by!

When you do, I may be scraping crayon off of the table or folding laundry, practicing Italian or bribing my kids to please, PLEASE find my car keys...but I hope to be holding what good things I can carefully, fingers tightly together so as not to let any goodness drip through.

Tuesday

I had a super productive day on Tuesday. Nutmeg slept pretty much the entire time Wombles was at school, which meant I had almost three hours of get-it-done time. I even blogged!

And apparently deleted it. Oh, well. I'm not letting it get me down! Here are some photos that capture a small slice of our fall.

 Pixie has joined a soccer team. It's fun, and even though it is consuming more of our Saturdays than I'm comfortable with there IS something lovely about being forced to sit in the Santa Barbara sunshine and do nothing except chat, feel the breeze, and watch the sweeties run around.

I have not yet gotten a photo of Bud playing soccer, but I have managed to find a photo of him in his soccer uniform:

Preaching. He built this pulpit himself and delivered Isaiah 23 (and 24, and 25...) straight-up. He even invited someone from church to come and hear him preach. She remembered. And came last week. He was thrilled.

Wombles had a birthday. And turned five. More on that later.

He had friends over for a crazy water party.

 Nutmeg and her buddy A. got to play together at the park. On this day they were ridiculously proud that they could climb onto the table and run around in circles all by themselves. They are pretty cute together, even if much of their play involves running and screeching at each other.

Please don't judge her hairdo. It was an accident. But yes, I have started wearing jams and Reebok high-tops...why do you ask?

Nutmeg has in fact gotten so good at climbing that several times this fall she has been able to climb up onto the table before I've realized. Several glasses have paid the price:

Never at a good time. On this particular day I finished getting kids ready for school, took them there and came home before I even thought about cleaning this up. I'm becoming a master of the sidestep even as I yearn to face life head-on.

Hope you are well: enjoying crisp air, sunshine, and smiles from people who truly know you.

Warmly,
H

First Day of School!

Well, we have finished our summer and started school with lots of "firsts." Pixie and Bud are in public school, Wombles is doing a charter school/homeschool combination, and everyone is loving it. As Wombles says to anyone who asks, Nutmeg is "wreaking havoc."

All three of my school-age children had their first day of school on the same day. Talk about an emotional time!

He's growing up so fast! And he looks so much like Bud, no?

My beautiful fourth grader

Nutmeg wouldn't get out of his shot!

 All of them are loving it, and I am confident the new routine will be good for all of us...this year, anyway.

Happy September!