Prepare Ye

We are safely on the Other Side of the Mountains. We managed to travel in the perfect weather window. Today the pass is closed and snow and wind are making even travel about town very difficult. It doesn't matter now though, we are safely tucked inside our warm little house here on the other side of the state.


It's been years since we have seen this much snow at Christmastime, even on this side of the state. It's really something. Well over two feet of snow has fallen and the drifts are considerably higher. A winter wonderland is putting it mildly. It's beginning to feel a lot like the North Pole around here.


I spent the day preparing and organizing our home for the endless stream of wet shoes and clothes that will be traipsing in and out of doors over the next two weeks we are here. It is critical that an adequate and carefully planned system be in place. One cannot have wet snow boots, hats and mittens simply thrown about willy nilly. That level of anarchy will only lead to a cranky mother. Hooks have been installed, cubbies put together, and appropriate drying locations have been designated. Everyone has been initiated and schooled on Winter 101 and so hopefully there will not be any breakdowns in the system.


Preparations for Christmas are in full swing. I have been furtively wrapping whenever I have a spare moment to myself. Unwrapped presents are carefully hidden along with all of the little items that will go in their stockings. I can feel myself starting to get very excited to see their faces on Christmas morning. I confess that I do love to give my children Christmas gifts. We resist giving them many "extras" throughout the year, so this is my time to indulge them a little. It is truly a delight for me to try and think of that special something that will both surprise and thrill them Christmas morning. I think I have succeded this year.


On our drive over the mountains, I asked the boys what gifts they could bring to give everyone that weren't things. Little T was initially confused, but Big J caught my drift right away. He immediately rattled off things like, "patience", "kindness", "helpfulness". Little T, now understanding my meaning, added "generosity", "good attitude" and "being calm". I told them that those would be the very best gifts they could give me and that I would try to give the same gifts to them in return. So far, I think we are all doing pretty well.


I'm rambling.... the snow is having a quieting effect on me. It's hard not to just settle onto the couch under a blanket and plan on not moving until Christmas. But there are things to be done, snow forts to build, stories to be read, presents to wrap.... And, hopefully, somewhere in there will also be time to watch, listen, pray, and wonder at the amazing reality we celebrate at Christmastime.


For God so loved the world....


Merry Christmas... blessings to everyone, everywhere.

His moment

Someone forgot to tell someone that December in the Northwest is no longer soccer season. Someone forgot to tell Little T and the rest of his team that if they keep winning in the tournament they will still be playing soccer one week before Christmas- in the freezing cold, with the potential of snow.  Someone forgot to tell someone and so now my 10 year old is off playing in the semi-finals, in freezing temperatures, with the potential for snowfall at any given moment. Someone apparently also forgot to tell him that all of this doesn't sound fun because he left the house very, very excited.

I found him on the couch staring into space.  I couldn't help but be curious/concerned by his lack of movement and noise and inquired as to what he was doing.  He sheepishly told me he was meditating.

Meditating?  I asked, ever more curious.

Well, kind of.... I'm trying to visualize my game.  

What are you visualizing?  I asked him with a smile.

Oh... I'm picturing us scoring goals and everybody gathered together at the end of the game cheering.  He told me with a big grin.

I've never seen Little T so keyed up over an athletic event.  He is our sports-guy, and he shows admirable talent for a boy of his age, but he has always had the ability to carry the pressure of sports lightly and with a sense of humor.  Seeing his anxiousness immediately made the butterflies fly from his stomach into mine.

How do we do this?  How do we encourage and celebrate our children's triumphs without fearing their disappointments?  How do we share in their joys and sorrows without owning their joys and sorrows?

I haven't been able to go to all of Little T's games but I told him I was planning on bundling up Pumpkin and trying to catch at least some of his game.  

He blurted out, Don't do that!!

Confused, I asked him, You don't want me to come?

No, he confessed, it will just make me so much more nervouser (yes, he said nervouser).

I assured him that I didn't want to do anything to add to his nerves, so I would look forward to hearing all about it after the fact.  But I couldn't help but add that there was no one in the world more on his side than me.

No matter what happens tonight, Little T, I will think you were fabulous.

He smiled, but declared, Yeah!  Especially if we win!!

And off he went... into the frozen tundra, to slay his own dragons and learn how to hold his head high in either victory or defeat.

And I am left at home, keeping the home fires burning, pacing, watching the clock, and wondering how my little knight is faring in battle.

Update:  They lost.  It went to a Shoot Out (when the game is tied at the end of regulation time, they go to a series of five penalty kicks per team).  That's a tough way to lose.  Still, Little T has been bouncing around with his characteristic grin and sparkle.  He seems a little disappointed but, as usual, he's not letting it bring him down for long.

Because it is a double-elimination tournament, and this is their first loss, they play again tomorrow for one more chance to go to the championship.  Even if they lose, they will have finished in 3rd place, which is terrific.  That will also mean we can leave to head Over the Mountains on Saturday as planned.  So, now.... I kind of have mixed feelings on whether I want them to win tomorrow.  I guess the good news is that there will be good news either way.

First Snow

What's old is new

Many thoughts these days, few words.

Instead I will share some beautiful words I came across that have startled me with their timelessness.  I love finding words written in a completely different time and space that speak so clearly to me today.

What good is it to me

if this eternal birth of the divine Son

takes place unceasingly

but does not take place

within myself?

And,

What good is it to me

if Mary is full of grace

and if I am not also full of grace?

What good is it to me

for the Creator to give birth to the Son

if I do not also give birth to him

in my time

and my culture?

This, then,

is the fullness of time:

When the Son of God

is begotten

in us.

Meister Eckhart (1260-1329)

Looking out for the littlest

Like most young children, Pumpkin has a tendency to get on bedtime book jags.  Night after night, in spite of my attempts to entice her with all of the other lovely books on her shelf, she will select the same book from the pile.  Night after night I read the same words, with the same inflection, and try not to drift off to sleep before the exciting conclusion.  The past few nights the book of choice has been The Three Billy Goats Gruff.

The version we have of this classic story is really quite charming.  I enjoy the illustrations and it has been re-told in such a way that is very true to the original.  This particular book was also a fan favorite of each of my boys at various times and so I am quite familiar with its content.  But as we all know, familiarity can breed complacency which was why I was so delighted when Pumpkin opened my eyes anew to this well known little tale.

The other night, after the three billy goats had successfully gotten themselves to the lush meadow of green grass and daisies, I proceeded to close the book with a cheerful, The End.  Pumpkin, however, was not quite finished.

She took the book from my hands and studied its cover in silence for a moment.  She ran her small hand over the picture, pausing for a second on each of the three billy goats.  Then she slowly said, Mommy?  Her brow furrowed and her gaze became increasingly quizzical.  She said again, slowly and thoughtfully, Mommy?  Why didn't the BIG billy goat just go first?

Before I could answer (or start laughing) she said again, answering her own question, Yeah.  He should have gone first.  He was the BIGGEST.  Why did the little one go first?  He might have been EATEN!

I looked at the picture with her and said all that I could think to say,  I don't know, Pumpkin. But you're right, that would have made more sense, wouldn't it?

She nodded firmly, Yes.  The biggest one should have gone first.

I thought her new enlightened view of The Three Billy Goats Gruff might mean it would get relegated to the bottom of the pile again, but no.  We read it again tonight and she still wondered why that tiny little billy goat was sent to the wolves first when the biggest billy goat had the power to defeat the troll all along.

I guess I can take comfort in knowing there is no way Pumpkin will allow herself to be manipulated by her two older, much bigger brothers into being the first to cross any bridges occupied by trolls.

On growing up

I imagine it would surprise most people to know that Pumpkin still sleeps in a crib.  She is fast approaching four years old and I realize most children move out of the crib and into a bed long before then.  It doesn't strike me as odd mainly because I have always been one to delay the move out of the crib as long as possible.  Big J was exactly three when he was bumped from the crib in anticipation of the arrival of Little T.  And Little T also remained in the crib until he was three even though there was no one coming along after him at that point.  But Pumpkin has definitely set the record in this household.

I remember clearly Little T's move out of the crib mainly because I wasn't here for it.  When Big J was in Kindergarten, he and I went to visit friends of ours who had moved to Paris.  It was a big adventure for my little guy and I, and we left Little T and Superdad at home to fend for themselves (grandma came to take care of Little T during the day).  At some point when we were away Superdad got a wild hair and decided it was time to move Little T from the crib and into the toddler bed that Big J had previously occupied.  By the time I came home, the crib had been taken down and there was this little big boy bed in its place.  I was stunned.  In truth, I was a little angry.  How could he make such a momentous decision in my absence?  How could my baby boy not have needed his mommy to help him through this transition?  How could they both be acting like it was positively no big deal??

The crib had been taken down and remained so for a long time after.  We were hoping for another child, we were trying for another child, but another child remained an illusion.  

We lost the twins before we had even had a chance to set that crib back up again.  We had started discussions of buying a second crib but had decided in the early weeks they could sleep together in one crib.  After they died, I gave the crib away.  I gave a lot of things away, in fact. All of those boxes of baby clothes and pieces of furniture felt far too hopeful.  They represented a faith in something that I couldn't muster at the time and I needed them to go away.

My sister helped me sort through the mounds of baby clothes I had left over from the boys.  She encouraged me to keep several of my favorites and then she bagged up the rest and took them over the mountains to share with her sister in law, who was in need of baby boy clothes.  

Superdad watched my sorrowful, maniacal purge with patience.  He let me give it all away, even driving the crib himself to the Catholic church down the street who would be able to give it to a young mother in need.  A friend, who helped arrange for the crib donation, asked me gently, are you sure?  I simply said, yes.  

When I became pregnant again, and all throughout those long 40 weeks, Superdad never once said anything to the effect of, we never should have given all that away.  Never once.  He let me set my own timeline as to when and how to plan for this new life, and never said a word about the dollars that were spent to replace items we had previously owned.

My mother and father bought Pumpkin a new crib.  A few weeks before she was due to be born Superdad and I set it up in her freshly painted nursery.  Neither one of us spoke of the optimism being expressed in those spring green walls, upholstered rocking chair and flowery crib bumpers.  In the end, we could no longer speak of our fears, or our hopes, we just forged ahead.

Once the crib was set up, I remember sitting for a long time in the rocking chair looking around her room.  With my eyes wide open I began to picture her in every corner of that room.  I could see her in her crib.  I could feel her in my arms.  I imagined her twirling before her closet trying to decide what to wear.  I could see her.  Everything in me felt that if I could imagine her vividly enough, I could will her into existence.

Last night, Pumpkin complained again that she was ready to sleep in her big bed.  It's already there.  She has always had a twin bed in her room, left over from when that room was Little T's room.  But it has been only recently that she has begun to understand that bed is her bed, and available to be slept in.  Once again I promised her that we would get a rail for the bed soon and she would be able to sleep in it.  I reminded her that she doesn't want to fall out of the bed and so we need to wait until we have a rail for it.  

A pink rail, she reminds me.  

Yes, a pink rail, I tell her. 

I imagined the empty space that will be left when the crib is taken down in this house for the last time.  And then I imagined all of the moments and memories that will come along to fill that space.  She is here, just as I pictured.  And the last thing I should wish for is for time to stand still.  

Advent, expectation and hope

Yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent.  In keeping my promise to myself that our family would become more aware of, and centered in, the calendar of our faith, I gathered my brood together in the evening for some "Advent time."  They dutifully made their way to the living room and I am pleased to say there was not a single grumble.  Big J did inquire as to what exactly we were going to be doing, and how long might it take?  But he did so politely and didn't really seem all that bothered having claimed a comfy corner position on the couch.

Pumpkin scrambled into the middle spot on the couch, delighted to be seated between her beloved eldest brother and her mama.  I only had to admonish Big J once to be a good example to his sister rather than encouraging her to be silly and disruptive.  They responded by looking at each other and giggling.

Because it was Sunday, we had two reflections to cover.  The lighting of the Advent candles, along with a short litany I had prepared, and the daily devotion for our Jesse Tree.  Neither one is long or involved, I am not stupid, but the boys still managed to be moderately annoying and unfocused.  Nevertheless, they did obediently participate and I think they might actually be able to explain the meaning behind the Jesse Tree.  Maybe.

Pumpkin begged to be the candle lighter and we all obliged her for the first lighting of the first candle of Advent.  However, I am well aware that Little T will not be interested in being so accommodating every evening and so I have a feeling we will have some tears, or multiple candle lightings, over the next few nights.  It will be easier when there are at least two candles to light.  

At the end of it all, it felt more like an exercise in gritted teeth patience, then the atmosphere of quiet expectation I had fantasized about.  But as Superdad assured me, there is no way our kids are growing up without understanding what we value and believe.  What they do with these traditions someday will be their own choice.  Ultimately, their faith will be between them and God.  But, in the meantime, I can continue to plant seeds, fertilize the soil, and pray for all of our efforts to bear fruit.  

The first candle of Advent is the Candle of Hope.  Indeed.