Thanksgiving 2019

Does anyone care that I haven't written much of anything, and that I didn't do my traditional Thanksgiving post last year? No. And yet, I mention it, precisely for that reason; this is more of a journal than a blog. And my journals growing up were always 25% noting the fact that I hadn't written in a long time or as I had intended.

The few posts I've done since Marie was born give me a glimpse, suddenly putting me back, only a year or two, but they seem so long ago. How much has changed, especially in me!

I am thankful, and happy, this Thanksgiving. As Pastor David said in a recent sermon, those who know Christ should be happy. Not just "joyful". I think there is a valid distinction between the two, and we should always be joyful - but we should normally be characterized by happiness as well.

And although we are certain to have ups and downs (I really wanted to say undulate but I'm afraid it's pretentious), I am thankful that Parker and I have been learning this. But here is my official list...

1. I am so thankful for Parker. I could make a list full of just the ways I'm thankful for him. I appreciate him more continually. Every time I am discouraged in some way about him, God works in him and I am amazed.

2. Marie - she is such a joy. And a challenge - pushing me to grow. She's thoughtful and smart and loves babies and helping, and reminds me how much I need God's help to be the mother I should be.

3. Jed - sometimes Parker and I just sit and marvel at how hilarious he is. He's the goofiest little boy I've ever seen. Totally confident in himself, he does everything with his own silly twist, even when he's (constantly) trying to imitate Marie.

4. Gravenor - I am so thankful to have my happy little boy back. He's just about the smiliest baby ever, even more than Jed was. I am thankful for formula that makes this possible, even if it's stinky and messy and not as fun as nursing! I am thankful that he just loves his family, and is probably going to be another boy who prefers his grandpas over just about everyone.

5. Baby! This little one first tried to make its presence known by stealing all of little big brother's food. :) What fun to think of another little one already, to wonder what Gravenor's relationship will be, hardly a year older than little sibling.

6.  Ultrasounds! If it weren't for ultrasounds, I'd still be wondering whether this baby is due in April or in August!

7. Parker working at the church. This new job has been a great blessing to us in many ways, not the least of which is how late he leaves for work in the morning! We love that he gets to see the kids in the morning.

8. We also love...days off! He worked a half day yesterday and doesn't work tomorrow, and we get two weeks of vacation, not including church trips.

9. Books! I finally have set a goal I've kept up with all year, and I'm almost done with my book for November, having read over a book a month. It's been years, if I've ever done this. Certainly there's been years I've read more than 12, but not necessarily at least one per month. It has really been a blessing, and I've read some great books.

10. Baked oatmeal. We loved baked oatmeal around here. I love how easy it is and that the kids love to eat it.

11. Rebekah. After multiple attempts over the years, I've finally found a prayer partnership that's stuck. We've gotten to the point that even if we miss a week or two, we'll still get going again. It's simple, but we have faith it will be powerful, and it's good for our relationship.

12. A little baby boy! After multiple miscarriages and years of praying for another child, my friend is halfway through her pregnancy, and we are thankful.

13. Rosina! I've been waiting for a niece a long while, and I couldn't have asked for a sweeter one.

14. Cornwell Camera. I've had some fun photo sessions this year and grown in my photography a lot.

15. Marcus and Jasmine. What a joy to see this sweet friend of mine and her now husband seeking to obey God and grow! I am excited to see what He does in their lives.

16. Egg nog. My kids discovered this recently, and can't get enough "egg nog milk". This perhaps comes from the fact that I think eggnog is too strong (and expensive) and weaken it with milk...

17. My husband who figures out technology for me. I am so going to be that old lady who doesn't get how stuff works, even if I am comfortable with older technology.

And that seems like a good number to end on, symbolically - I could go on forever, so at some point, I just have to randomly stop.

What are you thankful for?

More than Understanding

Food is a struggle with my going-on-two-year-old. Usually she begs "eat, eat" all day long...until she's sitting at her high chair with five bites of her food gone, asking to get "owk."

"Are you going to eat your food?" I ask.

"Es, es," Marie says, nodding her blond head seriously.

I wait a moment while she stares at me. "Marie, eat your food." She continues staring. "Marie. Eat your food. Obey mama." (Here's where I would put the period after every word if I didn't strongly dislike the practice.)

She continues staring.

"Do you understand me?" I ask.

"Es, es," she says, nodding.

"Then eat!" More staring.

"Marie. Pick up your food. Put it in your mouth."

She picks out a kernel of corn and looks at it. Looking back at me, she puts it back on her plate. 

This scenario happens frequently. And it's not just Marie who does it. I think, especially as women (and men too, I suppose, but my experience is with the women) who have known spiritual things for years, we can be just like Marie is with me with God.

We hear God's Word and we say we know what it means. But anyone who sees what's going on is confused by the disconnect between what we agree we should do in Bible study and what we actually do in our lives.

How many Bible study questions have you answered with pray? When you are anxious, what should you do? Pray. How should you respond when there's a situation beyond your control? Pray. What do you need to do to become closer to God? Pray. But how many times has answering that application question made a significant change in your prayers?

Prayer is just the situation that is on my heart. Yours may be different. Still, isn't there something you've studied and know, but despite all your resolutions to otherwise, still aren't doing anything about?

Do you hear God asking you, "Child, do you understand?"

And we say, "Yes, God. I need to pray."

God pauses, and then, ever so patient, knowing our hearts, asks, "Are you going to?"

"Yes," we reply. Like the disobedient son, we say we are going. And if we're doing better than usual, the next day we sit down to pray until we remember that we need to do the dishes and we hear the baby crying.

Thankfully God is more patient with us than I am with Marie. Yet I am just like her. "Yes, Father, I understand. I am going to pray." But any intention I have of following through doesn't show fruit.

Marie, I think, understands. But she doesn't want to obey. She knows she's not supposed to say no to Mom, so she says yes. But she has no intention of eating her food. Sometimes I am merciful and put the food in her mouth for her. Other times, I make her do it herself.

Praise God that He doesn't stop urging us to obey. We say we understand. After all, His Law is written in our hearts.

But will we act?

Dear Rebekah

Now I write to you on your wedding day, my friend.

I've been waiting for this day, curious and excited, as you have been, for years, though you are young. I do forget how young sometimes. But don't be offended as I've started forgetting my own age sometimes. I just realize how little it matters anymore. Age does not mean maturity, nor youth ignorance. As I've told you before, I think of you as older than myself sometimes. You are the more mature. At least when it comes to going to bed at a decent hour.

And yet, I am looking forward to you learning the things that I have learned in early, young years of marriage. Like how little I do know and how much I have to learn.

People will say just wait. Those honeymoon feelings will wear off. Some days you'll wonder why you married this person. Some times you'll argue and wish you could go back home.

And on your first anniversary, you wonder if there's any significant truth to the words, when you can't pin-point an argument you've had and haven't found marriage all that difficult, when you actually love this man you married so much more than when you married him. Then you think that only those who don't understand what a godly marriage is like would say such things.

But, as time goes on, suddenly, in small ways, your sin smacks you in the face. Those small things build up, and slowly what you know you should do isn't enough to gloss over your selfishness and make you think you're doing well, and some little thing that Zach says irritates you inexplicably.

And you don't go to counseling or wonder if your marriage will last. You look at Zach and realize that you are unreasonable, even as you go on being unreasonable. But as you plop on the bed and lay down, careful not to touch, you hope he will put his arm around you and put a kiss in your hair, and he will. You won't be able to explain exactly what happened, but you know all is forgiven and you will go on loving him even if this happens three thousand times more.

And the significance of marriage will sink into your soul slowly, slowly, after the first confusion when this year doesn't seem all that different than last, really. And every year you think you learned something, loved each other, changed a lot - you'll only learn the next year that you didn't know what you were talking about.

As Eric Ludy says, you've only taken one step into an endless frontier. Next year you'll take another, but still it's endless before you.

This may seem like weird things to say on a wedding day. But they're not. (They are. That's the way I roll.) You see, we make too much of days. Sure, weddings are important. But they are important as they are set amid a marriage and an engagement. It's those days in between the ones we look forward to that determine what your marriage will be like. And when you get to those days, often they seem so much less significant than you'd thought they would be.

You were a beautiful bride, child. Everything was lovely, as I knew it would be.

Now you have the more difficult, less fun, and more rewarding work of being a beautiful wife. And I look forward to seeing that.

Love,
Jeannette

The Old Man

I haven't written poetry much since we got married, hardly any since Marie, and none at all since Jed. Several times I was in one of those wish-I-was-inspired-because-I-feel-like-writing-poetry sort of moods. But I didn't work to get inspired long enough to actually write any.

Then my husband had this incredible nightmarish dream, of the sort that changes lives. Inspiration. I did not do it justice, by any means, especially conveying the terror, but I think it is a powerful poem still. At least it could be if I felt like editing it...

I know I didn't post last week, but I thought that since I posted three times the previous week and worked on two new posts, I'd let it go.

Here it is.

The Old Man

I drew the soft and midnight blue
up to my arms and cuddled down
beside my wife and chubby babe
the creaking bed the only sound.
I thought of child asleep in bed,
her tiny bum stuck in the air,
I had checked on her a bit before,
peeking in the bedroom atop the stair.
Laying the babe in his round blue bed
beneath the layers, five at least,
my darling turned with a quiet smile,
and we silently waited while the warmth increased.

She ran her fingers through my beard,
Curled and thick and brown,
"You're warm," she whispered. I didn't look,
but heard the smile in her sound.
The weekend had gone much too fast,
But I was too tired to say.
So I thought of wife and children and home
As I quietly drifted away.

The light flashed through the walls
Piercing my dreams,
And I woke in a cold, hard sweat.
But the room was dark
and the sheets were cold
in the empty space where my wife had been.
The sound of drums
shaking the house
merged with the hiccuping pound of my heart
And my quivering eyes
peered over the edge
and the state of abandoned baby quilts
suddenly emptied that heart.

The motion light in the neighbor's yard
beat like something possessed,
And through the crooked bedroom door,
I could see that light was matched by the rest.

Somewhere some music was pounding a beat
I never had heard before,
And something was out there,
and then my feet hit the icy floor.
My fingers wrapped around the hard white edge
and yanked vainly on the crooked door,
And tears rolled as I bit my lip,
But when I lifted my hand,
my cheeks were dry as before.

My steps on the fake wood floor
matched my still-beating heart,
back to the cavernous closet deep
where my guns stood like stalagmites
in black shadows
till my anger began to seep.

My fingers hit the slimy walls,
and my knees banged to the ground.
No rifle barrel
No bullet box
Only a scratching sound.

I grasped the iron leg of my bed
Felt for the solid cord,
But the black metal house of my pistol
never met where my fingers explored.

I jumped to my feet,
gritting my teeth,
fingernails digging my skin,
banged open the door,
ignoring the lights,
and the music that withered me in.

My hand seemed to flow
through the wooden post
as I bounded up the stair,
plunging into the deep dark,
killed when I found
what I knew would not be there.

My finger dug the pack'n'play walls
in my silent anguished scream,
and the gray carpet seemed to crawl
Slimy and black and green.

Her doll house lay
like a murder scene
I felt tiny fingers down my back.
I desperately looked for anything
I could use for my attack.

I thought of the post,
but when I got to the stairway,
it was gone
and all the while there beat on a tune
like a world-ending song.

My feet knew the way around the corner
up the single kitchen stair
but straight ahead the backroom loomed
with black hole darkness
and I knew that he was there.

The flowery curls of the calendar
mocked me on the bloody wall.
I blinked; it was no longer there.
It faded to a rack of blades
that returned my angry stare.
I grasped a machete, heavy, stout,
and stepped
ahead.
My t-shirt had gained another hole,
I hadn't noticed when.
The pulse came from that room,
and the smoke, it billowed out.
And now I must summon my voice
cowering inside
with a fear-inspiring shout.

"I'll kill you!" I cried
before the wall
of smoke and menacing sound.
And I saw the slithering shadow,
and thought of my darling,
and stood my ground.

That monster had stolen my children, my life,
behind that opening without a door,
And my face stood strong
though my insides shook till they were sore.

"Come out, you fiend!" I cried,
machete above my head,
and I pictured his limbs writhing about
until I crushed him dead.

He advanced through the fog
as I prepared to strike
any monster I could see,
till the darkness faded
and the pounding stopped,
and the monster,
it was me.

"I'll kill you!" I cried,
facing myself,
gritting terror and tears,
I looked in my eyes
and saw all I had done,
and advanced despite my fears.

A Cleaning Plan

A specification of one of my New Year's "resolutions" occurred to me as I was sweeping today. My goal this year is to keep the house clean. I have a vision of what this will be like, but I am wary of goals without plans. How am I going to keep up with it? Will the memory of how nice it was at New Year's Eve to see the clean gray floor and feel comfortable with anyone going in any room (except the office...) be enough? Seems unlikely.

But as I swept the carpet (urgently, before Marie scattered any more toys than she already had in the few minutes since she had come down after her nap), a plan seemed to come to mind.

For this month, January, I will keep the living room clean. 

Every day, I will pick everything up. Even toys that will be soon scattered again will be corralled, and Bible studies that will again be scattered on the couch will be properly shelved. That's actually harder than the toys...I may need to work on finding proper, regular places for things.

I will also sweep regularly. This I have found to be particularly helpful in getting rooms clean. Also, it's amazing how much cleaner they feel even if you didn't notice them being dirty before the sweeping. The feeling is very conducive to keeping up the habit.

I think I will add to this making sure the dishes are done, completely, every day. This is becoming easier to do as Jed isn't as demanding at night. The first two months it was difficult to get much accomplished during the evenings, and if I got behind it took two cleaning sessions to get the dishes done, so it was hard to catch up.

Hopefully after a month of focusing on this, living room and dish upkeep will be a habit. Then next month, I will add keeping the kitchen cleaned (aided by my already established habit of doing the dishes) and swept daily.

So, each month, I will add a cleaning habit. Perhaps if I am struggling to upkeep all of them, I'll have a catch-up month where I won't add any.

I'm excited, aren't you?

And this is why I don't share my blog...

Jedidiah Mark

Dear Jedidiah Mark,

When I think about your name I get a little scared sometimes.  

I don't mean Jedidiah; that means beloved of the Lord, and I take comfort in knowing that is what you are. But then there's Mark. Mark, after your grandfather...which is also not why I am afraid, in case you were wondering... and John Mark. John Mark, who caused division between Paul and Barnabas, two of my favorite men in Scripture. 

Here is Barnabas, the great encourager, and the great Apostle Paul, one of the most prolific writers of Scripture. And then there's John Mark, the young man who turned back. I never liked this story. It made me feel awkward, and it's sad that they divided. Although God used it to reach more people, I never like when people I respect have flaws. But that happens, Jed, and you have to be prepared for it. All men are sinners.

So here is John Mark, causing division and abandoning the work. Barnabas the encourager wants to give him another chance, but Paul is not about to take the one who turned back. So they go, each their own way. You wonder what John Mark is thinking as he follows Barnabas out, if he hangs his head or even tells Barnabas to leave him and stay with Paul. And that is the end of the combined ministry of Paul and Barnabas.

But then hidden in one of Paul's letters is a tiny little verse, almost like an offhand comment, as if he didn't want to make too big of a deal about it or it was obvious. My favorite little verse: bring John Mark with you, for he is useful to me for ministry.

It almost always makes me feel a little bit like I could cry. We didn't have to be told that he was useful. He wouldn't have asked Timothy to bring him if he wasn't. He didn't need to add that, but he did. The John Mark that had betrayed him in ministry, that he had so opposed coming back before, he now found useful for ministry. 

Like my pastor Bayly's brother Tim once said in a message at Friday Night, "useful, be useful," and there is nothing more that a Christian can ask than God finds them to be useful in ministry. 

Perhaps Paul was getting letters and reports of Barnabas and John Mark's work and was impressed by the young man and his diligence after failure. For some reason he trusts him now, and what a blessed thing that is!

And that is why I fear for you, my son. I fear that like your father did you will learn obedience and usefulness through failure. It's silly, since of course we all do, if we learn at all. But I do not want to hear how you turned back from the work and how the Pauls of today reject you as their helper. 

But if you have failed and a Barnabas comes alongside you, and you return to the work and prove useful to the apostle Pauls in your life that I pray that you will have, then I can ask no more for you. The great men are not the ones who did not sin; they are the ones who after failure continue to serve all the more. I pray that you early learn the sinfulness of men - particularly yourself - and are not shaken by it as many are, but rather are moved by the love and forgiveness of God to serve.

With my mother's heart, I shrink from the thought; and yet, I hope for failure for you, Jedidiah, that humbles you and gives you wisdom. Don't be above failure, my son. Be quick to admit it and to turn back wholeheartedly to the work.

I love you.

Love,

Mom

Purposeful New Year

Every year I marvel at the changes since last. I am always interested and amazed at how different and the unexpected changes.

A year ago, after coming back from my family's New Year's Eve party in the wee hours we sat in our white apartment with our friend who last-minute spent the night with us, telling us about how she tried not to like this guy so-unlike her imagined man but couldn't help it, while I was either wondering if I was pregnant or a bit sad that the (one of way too many according to my husband) pregnancy test I took said I wasn't.

This New Year's Eve, we sat in our white living room (we were surprised how much painting it white made it feel like home) with our family and our soon-to-be-three-month-old baby in a quiet party (the next pregnancy test said that this time my wonderings were right), while I missed our friend but happily thought about her spending New Year's Eve with her fiance's family.

Some things, like my love for long sentences and Marie staying up later than about any other baby I know, never change.

This year, as always, I want to do many things. I decided to get a planner in hopes that keeping it will help me be organized. I am excited.

Focused.

Purposeful.

Don't those words just look right?  They look what they mean. I just wrote them to see what they looked like and how they struck me, but now I see that it says I am focused. I am purposeful. That may not be very true, but that is my goal for this year. Perhaps the biggest thing I learned last year was that I need to be purposeful. Being flexible is good, but I need to have a vision and work and make things happen, not just ride the waves.

Perhaps one of my goals will help with that: writing a blog again. Writing, at least a personal, blog sort of writing, always makes me think about what I'm doing and why. And evaluation is essential for being purposeful.

So, because I know that I need specific, measurable goals:

1. I will write at least one blog post per week. Posting on Monday.

Ha. I already know that isn't going to happen. But I am okay with that. Goals help me grow. They are not an end in themselves. Striving for every week and missing it half the time is still more than saying I'll do it once a month.

2. I will check my planner every day (except maybe Sundays) and do a major preview/fill-in each month.

This I do mean to maintain.

I have other goals, of course, and since I haven't made them specific enough yet, maybe I shall now.

3. Exercise...

Never mind. That will be made more specific later. I need my husband's drive for that one. Hmm...but maybe a contest...because last time if he didn't exercise I lost my motivation to. And he didn't think having ice cream as a reward every time I exercised was a good idea.

4. This is a fun goal: to do a mini session day for Cornwell Camera. I really want to do this. And now I'm thinking about doing a snow one. That might be the only way I can convince people to do a snow session, and taking pictures in the snow is really great.

5. Keep the house clean and organized.

I'm not sure how to make this specific. But these past few days, after making sure (almost) the whole house was clean and presentable, I (and Parker!) have been loving the feeling and look and peacefulness of having an orderly home. So I want to remember this feeling to give me motivation to keep up on things. 

And I think that is key. Once I get behind, I give up. So my goal is to maintain orderliness, and gradually add to it (the backroom, the office area, the garage, the closets...). So I perhaps need to add something I've realized (as Parker points it out). Small decisions. So put away my mug when I'm done. Wipe up Marie's tray after every meal. Put the clothes away right away. No laziness and putting things off. PROMPTNESS.

6. Never be late.

Woah. That would be impressive. I just added that on a whim after writing prompt in all caps. So...plan ahead, crunch time numbers, add more and more and more built-in flex time, lay out clothes the night before, make food early and let it cool off if necessary.

I'll let you know how that one goes.

7. Never say interesting.

Ouch. That may be the hardest one yet. Maybe even more than not being late and exercising and keeping the house.

Or, maybe not.

Anyway, I like to use interesting. People always think it's negative when I don't mean it to be. "Thanks for the shirt," I might say. "It's interesting." They hear, "Thanks for the shirt [sarcastic voice]. It is strange and I don't like it." But interesting merely means arousing curiosity or catching attention, and that can be a good thing. I like interesting things.

I will admit there are times when Parker will say, "What do you think of that song?" and I'll say, "It's interesting," and that will mean, I like thinking about it, but not enough to desire to hear it again.

But that isn't why I want to stop using interesting. The reason is this: it's lazy and, well, as illustrated above, it can mean just about anything and thus means nothing. A "non-word," as my father-in-law recently informed me.

If I don't tell Parker that the movie he wanted to watch was interesting, I have to think of a real description. And I might say that I didn't like it because it made me feel sad even though the story line about the dad betraying his daughter did interest me. And that might lead to an....in-depth...conversation (it's already so hard!) and we might end up understanding each other better. And that is a very good thing.

Perhaps very should go next.

That is an excellent thing. A profitable thing. A beneficial thing.

8. Make something from my new cookbook, Extending the Table,, at least once a week.

I think this will be a good way of expanding my cooking abilities and our interests in general, as it is a multicultural book; it also is generally cheap cooking, which is good. Perhaps there is a blog post about it in my future.

9. Teach Marie verses.

Marie will repeat almost anything you tell her, though it will sound exactly the same as something else you tell her to, and she knows m, o, and a. This year she will turn 2. So I want to starting teaching her verses. I need to look into what ones would be good for first verses to memorize.

10. Read books.

I have hardly read a book outside of Bible studies in a few years. I am not sure what a good goal is. Every choice to do something is a choice not to do other things, so I'm not sure how much this is a priority. One per month? I don't think I would come close to a higher goal. Perhaps that would be good. I will write the book that I want to read each month on that page in my planner.

I could keep going on forever. However, eventually I would come to 1259. Be disciplined in going to bed. Actually that would probably be more like 19. I was going to say thus ends the first day of 2018, but it's already the beginning of the second. I'm not sure if that is an auspicious start or not.