Halloween

However controversial, we are going to be ‘celebrating’ Halloween this year, again. Matt grew up with fond and warm memories of Halloween—running around safe neighborhoods, receiving safe candy, not dealing with the theological implications of celebrating Halloween and ignoring All Saints. I, for understandable reasons, never celebrated Halloween or All Saints Day—the one because it was too close to the occult for a Baptist Boarding School and the other because it was too Catholic. Both days always passed carefully unmarked. Although, my senior year, in June, a group of us put on interesting hats and glasses and hit all the Staff Houses up for candy and money. Strangely, we did not get in trouble for this defiance, but we didn’t get much candy either because no one expected us.

So, in the tradition of Matt, for the last five years our kiddos started out their first Halloween as a Chili Pepper, moving from there to a Bee (at age one or two) and from thence on to something of their choice. Last year A was a sort of construction working person and E was a princess. This year A will either be Spiderman or a Knight in Shining Armor (he still can’t decide) and E will be a ballerina. We look forward to R’s stepping into our third time round of an Angry Angry Bee.

And last night we carved a pumpkin in classical mode.

As Matt wielded skillfully his knife and spoon, E drew on her small pumpkin and said, sing songingly, ‘People who celebrate Halloween worship Satan. That’s us.’
Matt and I and Nonni all began quietly freaking out.
‘Where did you hear that, E?’ Matt asked.
‘In school. From my friends.’
‘All your friends?’ I asked.
‘No, just J—‘ said E.
We all launched into a discussion of how its really about All Saints’ Day and how we are Not worshiping Satan, and how that would be Very Bad. E seemed unmoved and concentrated on her pumpkin.

I’m not completely surprised by this. We’ve chosen a school for her that we were pretty sure would Not be having Halloween Parties. I have no idea what E is telling the other children. It’s probably a jumble, all of them half understanding what we, their parents, believe. And, while I wish other Christian parents wouldn’t make blanket catastrophic statements like ‘all people who celebrate Halloween worship Satan’ I can understand where they’re coming from. It is an increasingly difficult ‘holiday’ to deal with—another occasion the culture at large has embraced the dark night of shadow and rejected the clear lighted day of rejoicing. It’s been particularly interesting to consider this cultural drive given that Matt in his Sunday morning Adult Ed has been covering Contemporary Neo-Paganism, particularly Wicca. More and more of us ordinary Christians are running into this developing religious/cultural affiliation, especially those near college campuses. On our evening walks with the dog, we pass a house that appears to have a sort of celtic/pagan shrine or offering for or on the occasion of (?) Samhain.

So that’s why I have ‘celebrate’ in scare quotes. Because I approach it with caution, delighted for my children to step into the clothes and shoes of other kinds of people for the evening, and for them to run around this safe practically old fashioned neighborhood, in the way that Matt remembers so fondly, eliciting candy of all things, from the neighbors, but cautious of the darkness. I look forward to the light and joy of the next day, of spending time considering those saints who have clarified and illuminated the Narrow Way for me personally.

More Sitting Not Thinking

I’m sitting here in the sun, watching siding being put up on the neighbors’ house. All these years they’ve had bright green siding. I thought they liked it and had put it up on purpose. Turns out they’ve always hated it and suffered through a decent number of years until it was reasonable to tare it off and do something nicer. This new siding is tan. It’s very nice, but I thought the bright green was garishly endearing. I think I will probably miss it.

A is copying out the alphabet. He drew an airplane this morning, far better than any airplane I have ever drawn. I see now that I really need to get him into some kind of art class. Haven’t been able to find one, though, that takes three year olds. And, despite the mess, I should really dig out the paints and let him go at it. Sigh. So much of this house is already covered in paint.

Baby is enveloped in pink—pink blanket on top, pink blanket underneath, pink sweater, pink skin. Despite all this pink, she still looks like both her brothers. Poor child.

R is taking a second morning nap. We are getting better about calling him R. But mostly we say ‘Baby’ and then have to clarify which one.

So, it’s a calm Monday morning off. We do have to run out and buy a pumpkin to carve, and we probably should take a walk.

What I've been Doing instead of Blogging

I’m sorry for the lack of posting. Every day I get up and turn on my computer and think, ‘I should really blog about something today.’ And then I stare blankly at the wall and think nothing at all. And then life sort of happens for the rest of the day.

I’ve been slowly reflecting on my hospital stay, in a vague way. For instance, it occurred to me after coming home, that the reason I was in such a rotten mood leading up to labor and delivery was not because of all the wretched hormones, but rather because I was really honestly and truly afraid of the experience I was facing. The first baby, of course, represents the unknown, and one has every right to be nervous and afraid of that which one knows not. But I was surprised to be experiencing fear in advance of this fourth time. But really, its more justifiable, I think, to be afraid of that which one knows. I was dreading, terribly, the machines, those bands around one’s tummy to monitor the baby, the weird and uncomfortable bed, the blood pressure machine. All of it combines to set you in a twilight of space, not anything like normal life.

Most particularly not like normal life because of, essentially, the partial loss of control over one’s own body and circumstance. Of course, it’s not a total loss—one can say what one wants and doesn’t want, one can call for the doctor. But one, that’s me, doesn’t. I don’t generally call out. I go along quietly and don’t ask enough questions, all the while boiling inside at the relaxed and calm manner of the nurses. I’d rather they weren’t calm. If I’m freaking out, I’d like them to freak out with me. The calm soothing tone, voice, body language all drove me to distraction.

In advance, I feel sorry for the people who will have to drag me to a hospital if I’m ever really sick.

But mostly I’ve been feeding the baby, running around in the car to a thousand appointments and errands, cooking lunch for a hundred visitors come to see the baby, and soothing the fragile tempers and feelings of all my little children who love their sister very much but are having to reorder their lives and routine to make space for her.

And I’ve been praying quietly about this whole unknown concept of ‘maternity leave’. I think I needed it Before giving birth, when I was so anxious and wanting to hide under my bed and not face anyone. Now, tired but happy, I probably still need time off, but I don’t want it. I want to get back into the thick of things and sort out the Christmas Pageant, seriously catch up on making Materials for the Atrium, reorganize the church office, and read a book without falling asleep.

Rain and Running this morning. The last few days have been taken up with luncheon engagements-friend from college, friends of my mom's. Today is One Week Well Baby amongst other things, as well as checking back with people who want to come meet baby. Haven't been able to get to the computer to read, let alone write.

Press On

I'm surprised by the sheer number of children in motion in this house. I shouldn't be, I guess, I've acquired them over time. But I'm amazed at how many of them there are now, and that they all belong to me. Last night I made a line up of Sunday clothes, and it goes all across the spare room bed. I know 4 isn't that many, but still, I'm experiencing an element of surprise.

This morning we're going to gather ourselves together and go off for a full morning-8am (no music), 9:15 Education for Everyone, 10:30 (music). And then coffee hour full of lots of little pieces of paper for me from various parishioners reminding of things I've got to do, like order toner. And then we'll come home and collapse.

I think, for me, this morning will be like climbing a mountain, sore as I am. But, as with all the Sundays these last few months, I won't be climbing on my own.

His thoughts said, The coil of circumstances is beyond anything I ever experienced before.
His Father said, All this assemblage of complicated circumstances is the massif of the mountains thou must climb. There is a way among the boulders of the moraine, between the seracs of the glaciers, over the snow-bridges that cross the crevasses, round the overhanging snow-fields and up the precipices and long aretes. There is a way through the deep shadows that will seem to bar thy path at times. Press on, press on to the summit.

His thoughts said...His Father said...

Amy Carmichael

Not a Blogging Fiend Right Now

Have acquired our first throwing up baby. Have never had one before. At this point, the most valuable baby thing I own are all my Malian panya cloths. Ordinary American baby blankets have nothing on this cloth. Right now Gwendolyn is wrapped in an old Christmas one-blue with pictures of Jesus ringed in 'Je suis l'Alpha et l'Omega' and 'Moi, Je suis le Pain de Vie'. I guess it was Christmas 2000. Everyone wore this cloth to church that year, made into various outfits. If I ever locate my camera I'll post a picture of it. I must say, its not Baby's best color, although, I don't know that she has a best color yet.

The last few days, as you can imagine, have been a tunnel (for me) of feeding this baby and trying to get beyond that to connect with the other kiddos. Today I have to come out of that small world to do the bulletin and think about Sunday School.

And I've been reading The Pickwick Papers and this awful thread over on Stand Firm. Its an interesting juxtaposition. And then, to satisfy myself, I hunted up a very tiny envelope for E's lunch money this morning. She is profiting mightily from this baby by getting to buy lunch more than is good or right or proper. Hopefully all that will come to a grinding halt on Monday, when I sleep All Night on Sunday (ha).

New Baby

G...thirty minutes old
Here's another
R, sitting on bed, not entirely happy...other siblings quite pleased

The Lord giveth...

Its very quiet now, and a twilight 'grey dark' as A might say. Everyone has gone home and I am propped up in some hospital contraption bed with new baby G. So far she is not a delicate wilting rose flower. She has kind of a thick neck and lots of dark hair and an expression of entitlement. I can see why. Rowan, when visiting this afternoon, climbed on the bed and tried first to sit on her, and then to kick her, and then to poke her, each time thwarted, each time enraged.

Its going to be a loud week, I can tell, when I get home. Everyone shouting and trying to get a word in and be noticed AND assimilate this new interesting creature into our lives.

As for me, I'm very tired. But that's ok. Its something I'm used to.
Matt is very tired too. He has been busy all afternoon trying to arrange a funeral for someone we never got to meet. He called the funeral home,

'hello, Yes, I need to speak with a gentleman who passed away this morning, I can't remember his name.'
Silence on the other end of the phone. I shout the name quietly in Matt's ear.
'Oh yes, with ________________.'
Silence on the other end of the phone.
'Oh no, I mean, I need to speak with someone about ________ who passed away this morning.'

He, Matt, tried then to tell me he would sleep in this uncomfortable chair next to my bed tonight, but I told him he was ridiculous and sent him home. We all need a quiet night in a proper bed. Tomorrow there will be plenty of time to get to know this interesting little person.

As for me, I thank you all Very Much for your prayers over the last 24 hours. At 7 and some centimeters, as I wimped out and requested an epidural, and then burst into tears and had a good solid cry of fear while a very nice doctor put it in, I was profoundly buoyed by the love and grace and mercy of Jesus, and by my husband and mother who held my hands and told me that I was not, in fact, a wimp, and that I was going to be ok. And I know also that your prayers sustained me. Thank you.

Counting down

This is the famous ME who occasionally comments -- Anne's mom. I'm a few feet away from the end of the birthing bed, and I'm very omfortable thank you, in a rocking chair with my coffee at hand, and Anne's computer for light-hearted entertainment.
Matt is in another soft, pleasant chair, typing fiendishly on his computer. Anne is counting her way through intensifying contractions, and the baby's heartbeat is adding a soft undertone to the quiet hum of this birthing room.
So nice. So different from the day Anne was born to me in "The Shrubbery" (a maternity home in High Wycombe, in Buckinghamshire). So different because then, I could hear another woman wailing down the hall, and the midwife kept stepping out for a cigarette. Here, all is quiet and peaceful. We're only waiting for the wail of a baby.
When I heard the first wail of tiny baby Anne, all other crying stopped, and the August wind stirred the curtains at the windows, and all the roses bloomed brighter in the garden outside. "One lump of sugar, or two?" asked the lady with the teacart.
On the way over to the hospital this morning, I caught the tail end of "The Writer's Almanac". "It's the birthday," said Garrison Keillor, "of P.G. Wodehouse.
Oh! We have moved from four to seven centimeters in a very short space of time!
ME

Normal Life

We're waiting for the rain, and waiting for this baby, and waiting for Jesus to come back. I'm not a betting person, but I did finally bet my mother today-coffee and bagels at Panera that this baby doesn't come until a week from tomorrow, Wednesday the 17th, the day of Good Shepherd's 106th Harvest Dinner, during the dinner. I'm not sure how to work out odds, but I've read The Great Sermon Handicap twice in the last week trying to figure out how it all works.

Meanwhile, A has acquired a Helmet and tunic sort of thing to go with his sword. 'I', he said to me this afternoon, 'am the knight of the world'. The helmet is enormous but very satisfying.

R has been playing the piano.


E bought lunch in the school cafeteria for the first time, to her own immense satisfaction.

So basically we're all fussing along in our own quiet ways.

Jumbles

Well, life continues a hodge podge. I've read through most of 1 Chronicles in an effort to go into labor, wading laboriously through the names and trying not to skip any-surprisingly difficult to do in the middle of some heavy duty contractions.

And I've totally cleaned and reorganized my desk again.

And I've learned from A that babies are 'silly mooses'.
'Are what?'
'Silly mooses.'
'Are you a silly moose?'
'No! Baby is a silly moose.'
'Oh.'

And I watched R, always the problem solver, stand at the top of the stairs and fling a large toy dump truck down, come down carefully after it, proceed to sit in it and try to ride it around the living room. Sensible child, not carrying it down and hurting himself.

Oh, and I've cut everyone's hair, except R. Matt and I are in a battle over the curls on the sides of his head. So far they remain intact, praise be.

OH, and tomorrow is Matt's Birthday. We're all so excited, except him. He has all kinds of gray on his head to show his age and wisdom. In celebration we will be indulging in Nigella's Chocolate Cloud Cake AND Nigella's Chocolate Pots.

Oh, and R has learned to say 'hi'. Its really his one word. If you were to come over, he would say it to you.

OR, the baby could look like this

(Picture taken by my mother in Grand Place, Brussels. Notice the cigarette, amongst other things, like the size of the baby.)

Good Sized Baby Daily Getting Larger

Baby flipped to head down, as ultrasound verified yesterday. Relieved and basically very uncomfortable. So, still waiting and the temperature has gone back up to 80, of all things. Really long to go into confinement. Think it would be better for everyone. Instead of have cleaned Matt's closet, made an apple spice cake, cauliflower soup and read some more of Uncle Fred in the Springtime (that was yesterday). Today I'm going to pay all my bills, make bread and reorganize my spice and baking situation. Basically too hot to think about anything else interesting. Have begun to worry that baby will have bright red hair.

One mind, One heart

I'm off in a minute to do Matt's Tuesday Night Bible Study. He's out of town for the night to some meeting or other. His Bible Studies are always very gracious, but I can tell they're secretly disappointed when Matt can't make it. This one, I believe, is reading through Proverbs, a good activity for us all.

E and A are on opposite sides of the couch instructed to not speak, to each other or to anyone else, for a few minutes. They cannot, for whatever, get along, and I will not have them constantly tattling on each other.

R is wandering around moaning because his teeth hurt. He has a large curl sticking out wildly from the side of his head.

Nonni is making spaghetti and meatballs.

Just in case you were all wondering what we are all doing.
I've been getting bins down from the attic and sorting throw clothes by age, gender and season-bins and bins and bins.

I don't have anything to say about anything, EXCEPT, its been bugging me on some back burner of my mind, that the HOB statement from New Orleans contained the phrase (or something like it)
though we are not of one mind, we strive to be of one heart
That, to me, seems a huge neon sign of the problem we're in. Precisely because we are not of one mind, we cannot be of one heart. Its irrational and schizophrenic (or something) to 'strive' for such a thing. The heart and the mind should not be divided from each other. More, perhaps, on this later, as it continues to niggle at the back of my mind.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAWN!!!

We forgot and we feel terrible and we love you very much!
Here is a picture from E and one from A wishing you Happy Birthday!

I did the weekly article, instead of Matt, for Good Shepherd

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

I had the splendid and joyful opportunity to be with the Finch family in the hospital as they awaited the arrival of the latest baby Finch. First off, it was a real pleasure to be in those nice delivery rooms, Not as the person who is in the uncomfortable position of giving birth, but as an encouraging spectator. They are really nice rooms. Second, I was able to witness in another person something profound that I have experienced myself, namely, setting oneself in motion to bring another life into the world. This decision for life is a sacrificial and overpowering task. At its most basic point, you, as the person bringing another life into the world, have to make the decision to go ahead and do it. However much you may long for the child, however much it is inevitable, at that point, to give birth, a moment of decision arrives—I’m going to do this, even though I am anxious, even though its going to be difficult, even though its probably not going to happen the way I want it to, for the sake of another person, I’m going to do this, and I’m going to do this now. The decision has to be made.

I remember this vividly when it arrived for me. And I saw it in Liz’s face this morning at the crucial moment.

For those of us who are Christian, when this moment of decision comes, and we choose to go ahead and do the difficult thing in front of us, two important things happen: one, the grace and love and power of God comes in and gives us what we need to do the job, and two, we get to see what it is that God did and does for us on the cross.

The first part—the grace, love and power of God giving you what you need to do the job—is called Providence. God promises, when we put ourselves in his hands and trust in him, to meet our needs. I was getting ready to pray for someone this week and they said, ‘Oh, I don’t like to pray for myself. I don’t want to be selfish.’ This stance of self reliance is actually an extra hassle for God. He went to the trouble to make you. He knows you inside and out—when you lie down, when you stand up, when you go out of your house, when you come in, when you think, when you rest, when you work. He’s more than equipped and willing to meet your needs. You do yourself a great disservice when you try to solve your problems yourself without consulting God. More than likely you will mess things up and then have to call on God anyway to fix it.

Trusting in God’s providence means going to the source of all things Right Away, without waiting. When you’re facing something difficult, go to God first in prayer, lay out the trouble, ask him for strength and courage and the skills and resources to do the job in front of you.

The clearest most powerful example of God’s providence in our lives is the cross. When we mess things up, when we sin, when we rebel against God, it is the providential work of Jesus on the cross that saves us and makes it possible for us to live, be healed, forgiven and whole. This providence is, of course, first and foremost available to us when we accept, by faith, the work of Jesus and accept him into our lives and hearts to rule and transform us into his own image. But as you live as a Christian, the depth and richness of the cross will continue to provide and to nourish.

One way this happens is through the experience of suffering. Suffering, pain, difficulty, trials, all are ways to enter into and see what kind of sacrifice it was that Jesus made. Essentially, he put his whole self aside for the sake of you. He laid down his glory, as the Son of God, his Authority, his power, and his own body, so that you might come into his family and have a relationship with his Father. Any time you experience suffering, you can take that to the foot of the cross and lay it next to the suffering of Jesus, and in so doing, you get to see what Jesus is like and what his work means.

The cross is essentially life-giving. Jesus did not just die, the way we die—to no purpose and effect, our bodies in the ground, our spirits with God or in Sheol. His death, his dying in his body and his soul to himself, for the world, was a life giving event, for the sake of another, in order to give you life.

Another way to enter more deeply into work of Jesus is, as the writer of last week’s collect (Sunday prayer) says, ‘to love things heavenly’ and ‘to hold fast to those things that shall endure’. This is completely contrary to the way American culture currently orients itself. As we go about our daily lives, there is very little that tells us to fix our minds on the things of God. When I bustle through the grocery store and try to think what on earth I am going to put in Emma’s lunch box day after day, there is very little that orients me towards God. I’m not generally thinking about what God wants or what he is doing in the world. But by allowing myself to be distracted, by not grounding myself daily in the presence of God, I do not maintain a heavenly perspective. I become limited in my vision and scope and I miss what God is doing in the world and in my own life. This lack of vision and focus allows me to believe the lie that I am in charge of my own life and can provide for myself, that I do not need God’s providence.

One practical way, however, to begin to develop a mind and heart focused on heaven, on things that last forever rather than fade away, is to find, in your morning reading of scripture, one short line that you will keep for yourself, and say it over and over again as you work and run and keep up with life. My one line, lately, has been, from 1 Kings 17:12-16, the story about Elijah the prophet and the Widow of Zerephath. This woman was destitute and there was a famine in the land where she lived. The day Elijah met her she was gathering a few sticks together to make a fire, and then she was planning to go home and cook the last of her food—flour and oil to make a small cake or bread—which she and her son would then eat and then wait to die of starvation. At precisely this moment, when from a worldly perspective all seems lost, Elijah come to her and performs a miracle. Instead of eating the last bit of food herself, she gave it to Elijah, and then, for the whole time there was famine in the land her ‘jar of flour did not run dry’ and her ‘jar of oil did not run out’. These two lines I say to myself often as I go about my business. However busy I get, through God’s providence and mercy, I will not run out of time for the things that are most important, my time jar will have enough in it to get me through. However tired I am, I will not run out of energy for the things God wants me to do, my energy jar will have enough. However poor I feel, I will not run out of money and resources for the things that are most important, God always puts enough money in my money jar. By saying these lines over to myself throughout the day, I am able to know and be reminded that it is God who provides and cares for me, not me who provides and cares for myself. It might be a different line of scripture for you, but I encourage you to find one, for today, and carry it with you.

The key in all things is to keep God, and his work in Jesus, front and center as you work and rest and live your life. In other words, to love things heavenly, to hold onto the things that last forever, to trust in Jesus’ work on the cross, and to seek God’s will in all things.

Down to Weekly Dr.'s Appointments

Baby transverse and stubborn. Only has a few weeks to turn. Please pray.

On my way to get Matt at the airport

You can't have a minority report if you voted yes. So, maybe Bennison could put out a minority report. Heh.

E joins TEC's House of Bishops

Nonni: Well, E, did you have chapel today?
E: Yeah, we did.
Nonni: What did you do in chapel? Did you sing songs?
E: I guess so. I forget. We had a story about three things … a girl stole stuff, and then she died.
Nonni: She died!
E: Yeah. You know what? When I get home I’m gonna’ hide all my stuff.
Nonni: Who are you gonna’ hide it from?
E: From the Big Bad Wolf! I’m gonna’ put my stuff in my suitcase.
Nonni: Is your suitcase big enough for all your stuff?
E: Yeah. ALL my stuff. The Big Bad Wolf lives in the woods, and he stole my brown bunny. But someday, he’s gonna’ go on a trip FAR AWAY, and then we’re gonna’ go up to his door, and go in, and get our stuff back. And my brown bunny too.
Nonni: Are you sure your brown bunny isn’t at Tatchi’s house.
E: No. The Big Bad Wolf has it. And when he’s gone, we’re gonna’ go to his house and take HIS stuff.
Nonni: But wouldn’t that be wrong? To steal his stuff?
E: No. God telled me to do it.

Anne's New Comment Policy-don't worry, its not as bad as Stand Firm, although possibly more ticked off

I've been lying here on the couch, trying to sleep a few seconds longer (A got in my bed at 3 am, E at 5 and Baby sometime after that, each causing me to sin in my thoughts and prayers to God) and have finally been wrenched back awake by three phone calls, the dog wanting out, and trying to pick over the news online.

Matt pointed out to me last night, about 10:30, that I'd been linked from T19 (thank you so much!) and that's why so many of you, besides my mother, have been reading me today (There's no way I got 200 hits out of her alone). And I'm gathering, from a couple of comments, that some of you are on the opposite side of this ecclesiastical divide. To you I say Welcome! Glad you're hear reading.

Please leave the condescension behind, though, if you comment. Lots will be going on today. I'm sure we'll be trolling around for news and information. Lots of ridiculous and unbelievable things will happen. You probably won't agree with what I have to say about them, and I welcome such disagreement. Please offer your thoughts. But if you condescend to me, I will pitch over the edge today, which will be another source of sin in my life, which I don't need.

So, that's the rule for today, maybe tomorrow will be different, we'll see.
Bring on the News from New Orleans!

Communion Chaos

I have just learned today, for the first time, that my calm, older, beginning to be rational child is now gone a chunk of the day, leaving me with two not yet rational, hyper, beginning to be competitive children of a gender I don't understand (namely male). That two such small bodies should be able to generate so much noise is astounding.

One has been shouting all morning to listen to Balafon music on youtube.
'I want to hear the balafon, with the picture.'
'In a minute, A, I have to read this first.'
This being the next set of remarks from the HOB meeting this morning. And now the comments.

R is just shouting. He may be trying to say something, but Lord knows what it is.

Anyway, first, here is Matt's telephone call to E last night, more on the subject of Adam and Eve.
Matt: How was Church?
E: Adam and Eve ate from the tree and then they had to hide and then they had to find leaves because they were bears and didn't want Jesus to see them.
Incredulity on the other end of the line (couldn't hear what Matt was saying).
E:Yeah, they were hiding and then they knew a baby was going to be born and be Jesus, like us.
Silence, probably Matt asking some clarifying question.
E: Because, she becided it!

I'm dying to know what is going on in E's head to make sense of all this. So fascinating, the study of scripture.

Second, it occurs to me, after these many months and years of Anglican Conflict, that while all of us have been taking this seriously-pouring over documents, trying to understand the Windsor Report, the Dromontine Communique, the Dar Communique, various letters from Rowan Williams, Camp Allen Statements, and now resolutions in the HOB-these Bishops HAVE NEVER TAKEN THIS SERIOUSLY. If they've read any of the necessary documents, they haven't bothered to understand them. If they've listened to advice and counsel from Primates and others, they bothered to HEAR. In other words, this has never been a real engagement. They've never been serious about the communion. Even this morning, after Matt's careful study of Howe's Proposal, and we, reading carefully and considering and praying for God's will, these Bishop's Never Considered the option before them.

I don't know why I didn't notice before. I guess, if you can't take the time to take the Scriptures seriously, why would you take the Communion seriously.

I leave you with my two Favorites from the meeting. These I am tucking away for the sake of generations to come.

From the Bishop of N. Carolina: "Also, shouldn't we quote scripture somewhere in this text?"
And
"Roskam: I would hope that we will make mention of these extraordinary stoles that we have been given and that maybe we should have a separate document for this purpose"

Sunday Conversations

Anne: So, E, what did you in Sunday School today?
A: We sang, 'If your name is E, stand up. If your name is Jesus, stand up.'
E: 'If your name is Nonni, stand up.'
Anne: What did you talk about in Children's Chapel?
E: We learned about Adam and Eve.
Anne: Oh, that's good. What did you learn about them?
A: They were obedient.
E: No A, they were disobedient.
A: Yes, they ate fruit from trees.
E: And they had to go out of the Garden.
Anne: The Garden?
E: The Garden of AEDAN.

On a descriptive note, I celebrated for the first time in several months, today. Not the most practical time to get back to work, given then I only have 2 or 3 weeks left before baby. I didn't fit any of my vestments, and I wasn't able to breathe particularly well, BUT, I was totally delighted to look out at the congregation and see E and A, bolt upright in the third pew from the front on the right, books open. They sat through, with the exception of children's church, all the service and came up for communion together, by themselves. And they sang loudly throughout. I haven't been able to dislodge them from the nursery, not that I have tried very hard. But they really have needed to start coming to church, particularly as the nursery is about to be filled up with babies this fall (one coming this week-not mine), and because children ought to be in church.

E Going To School

E shouting from the back seat of the car as Nonni drives her to school:
E: I need you not to talk. I need to you pay attention.
We’re all gonna die. We really, really don’ wanna die, but we hafta die because … because our mommies and our daddies are sinners.
Pause
I’m talking about dying a lot today aren’t I, Nonni.
Nonni. Yes you sure are.
E: (laughs) I’m jus betending I’m a speacher.

Qualifying note from me (Anne): The child, in general, gains an understanding of death between ages 4 and 5, which puts E exactly on target. This is why, in Catechesis, some key parables that are presented are the Grain of Wheat and The Good Shepherd (who lays down his life for the sheep).

More from the Home Front

Well, we've all helpfully gotten sick, since Matt is gone. Actually grateful he left in time to escape it or he would be having a miserable week.

Baby is unhappy and looking at us like its our fault, his nose running and his eyes red. Emma insists she is not sick AND, may the Lord be praised, comes home every day from school to write letters on the board (we have a chalk board in the living room, just in case) and tell us what they are. Aedan finally ate his broccoli this morning and then had a banana and some mango cobbler and a cookie and a number of other things. Decided to forgo the broccoli battle this evening and we all had pancakes. Just seemed like the necessary thing in the middle of a cold and the disintegration of the World Wide Anglican Communion.

I've been hitting refresh at Stand Firm and calling Matt trying to get him to tell me stuff. But so far there hasn't been anything to tell. What's the point of being married to someone THERE if you can't get news a few minutes earlier? I imagine they must be frustrated, trying to track down bishops and news and having everything be so managed. Just speculating, though, don't have any inside information At ALL.

Finally stopped hitting refresh and climbed into the attic to seek out baby clothes. Was able to find most all of E's beautiful pristine baby dresses, except the very smallest size, which is what I was looking for, along with a large ugly grey woolen pregnant dress which, unfortunately, I will probably have time to wear before giving birth.

I am surprised by one thing. I'm probably about 3 weeks out from having this baby, and for the first time out of four, I'm not impatient at all. This is not the right moment for a baby, and I'm basically sure I will know the right moment. This is a curious experience for me. All the other times, six weeks out I just wanted the sucker out (I'm not a very tall person, six weeks out there's usually just no more room). This time, I feel pretty good. I'm horribly uncomfortable and large and my feet are swollen, but for whatever reason, I'm also perfectly content. I don't want this baby to arrive before its supposed to. I don't want to rush anything. I am basically happy to keep plugging along until everything is in order.

I wish I could transfer this new calm to my feelings about the Communion and the Church and all that is going on in these coming days. If God is really in charge, which he is, than everything will happen as its supposed to. Its so easy to write that down and so ridiculously impossible to believe it. However, I am trying. We (my mother, me, my kids) have stopped and prayed several times today that God's will will be done.

This morning we also read about Cain and Abel (I have been trying to read about Jesus, but Emma has been wanting to hear about Adam and Eve, so we continued on from yesterday's disastrous events in the Garden of Eden).
'Why didn't Cain bring what God wanted him to?' E wanted to know.
'I'm not sure' I said, 'I think he probably didn't stop to find out what God wanted. But what could Cain have done, when God wasn't happy with his gift, instead of killing his brother?'
'Well,' said E,'He could have brought something else. If Jesus wants to borrow my bunny, I will lend it to him.'
'That's very nice,' said Nonni (my mother), 'I'm glad to hear you'd be willing to share your bunny'.
'Time to go to school,' I said.

And now, its time for me to stop hitting refresh and go to bed. It will all still be here in the morning.

The Home Front

Matt got off safely this morning, and arrived safely mid afternoon, in New Orleans, despite my usual horrifying night before dreams about air travel and whether or not it is really safe. I've spoken to him sternly three times already about the lack of news so far. I have been reading various threads all day but am longing to hear something real rather than speculative.

My mom and I are doing our best to hold things together here. We discovered, today, that a household really needs a man. All the children are in out and out rebellion, testing everything to see if the rules still apply.

After having eaten broccoli without any fuss many times before, this evening, faced with ONE small broccoli tree each, they gagged and whined and wanted to go to the bathroom, and fussed and then A finally decided to have his for breakfast. It was perfectly ridiculous. Hopefully, having won tonight, tomorrow will be a bright new and happy day.

So, we are hitting refresh at Stand Firm but will probably go to bed early and try to regain some sanity.

Oh, and Matt, I walked Maggie AND brushed her, and gave her her pill and patted her, and she still is looking at me like I am a Bad Thing. Also, I couldn't get her leash/collar off. I had to loosen it and pull it over her head. Does it always jam so badly? I hope you will have plenty of interesting news up in the morning.

Catechesis and its Arrangements Generally

Yesterday was the official launch of Catechesis of the Good Shepherd for the year. As usual I'm running desperately to keep up. For those of you who aren't doing a lot with children or aren't doing this program, the two posts below will not be that interesting. Right at this moment I'm trying to put my albums back together. I picked them up and ALL my pages fell out and got mixed up, so now I have to piece them all laboriously back together. Then I'm hoping to set out a good solid plan for the fall so that if I should, horrors, give birth over a weekend and miss a Sunday, someone will be able to fill in.

I miss the atrium over the summer. It was very restful and rejuvinating to be back into that life. I look forward to a fruitful and interesting year with all the kids

Catechesis and its Arrangments Two

This is the prayer table and Level Two area. I'm still filling in a lot of materials, but there's a lot of room to put things, so as I get them I'll have a place to put them. We ended up doing prayer together between the two groups this Sunday which didn't work that well, so that part is going to need some tweaking. As you can see, I have yet to put together my Blue Strip, so I have some serious work ahead of me.




This is a sort of shared bookshelf supply area that is shared.


This space is reserved for my older/junior high class. Techincally this ought to be Level Three, although they're a touch too old. But I haven't been trained yet and so essentially I'm doing an Old Testament survey. I only have girls in this group, so far, and they love to paint and make books, so they have each had to pick a person from the OT (they all picked women) to do a project on (make a book, sculpt something, do a box like they did over the summer etc). They will have half the class to work, and the other half we will cover some event or person, hopefully hitting all the main highlights over the course of the year. My class has no knowledge of the Bible and wasn't in Catechesis that long, so I'm basically starting from scratch. At Christmas and Easter we will take a break and cover those major events. Plus, I'll probably have them do some of the timeline work that Level Two will be doing, since they haven't had it.


Here is our plant/practical life area.

Catechesis and its Arrangements One

Here, as promised, are pictures of my atriums. This is the Level One Atrium. I used to have my Level Two in this room. We had a minimal amount of materials and mostly borrowed from Level One and also shared work space with them. But now I am doing two groups in the larger space, so the little ones are in this tiny postage stamp room. However, it has a lot of light and is very serene. Pictures of Level Two will be in another post above.

Counting Things Out

One Vat Peanut Sauce for supper
(one jar creamy no addatives peanut butter,
one package chicken,
5 fresh tomatoes,
3 inches tomato paste,
1 inch fresh grated ginger,
one large onion,
2 cloves garlic,
1 tub home made stock,
simmered together for an hour, plus rice)

Seven chocolate covered strawberries

One crying boy not wanting to share the final banana (I wanted the whole banana. I wanted the last bite. I don't E to have any banana-at least he's perfectly honest.)

One wiggly girl twirling and making up poems-long, long, long complicated poems.

One frustrated baby, unable to leave the computers alone, even knowing he will constantly be in trouble, weeping, smacking the keyboard-a poignant and desperate picture of the compulsive sin nature we all fight against, or should be.

One Micah
One Great Aunt Katherine
One blogging husband
One organized and energetic mother
Five computers (4 laptops)
Three large hot cats
One dog
Bed, there will I be, if you need anything.

as one too tired to blog, and yet, I keep blogging

Have got to have some kind of morning nap.

A is sticking letter stickers on Percival, the Knight in Shining Armour (Veritas Press' Phonics Museum). We just read the story, the Museum Quest and A was far less interested in the letters than who Percival was prepared to fight and when his horse would appear. He also really desperately wants a cookie. He can't believe that I'm not passing out cookies before 10am, my internal decision that the breakfast hour is officially over. He still has an hour to wait. Its been hard for him, the last few days, without E. The baby takes long naps and so he has to just be with me.

I still have to finish up these cupboards, do the bulletin and make up a bed for my Beloved Great Aunt Katherine who is coming to spend the weekend. My mother is actually going to drive down to NJ to get her and bring her back.

I need to pull myself away from the computer, but I'm obsessively checking Stand Firm and T19. Matt has gone into the Tunnel of News before any big event (that Big Event being the House of Bishops Meeting next week in New Orleans, for those of you who aren't following Anglican Communion News). Every now and then I'll get an IM from him asking if I've read such and such, which, of course, usually I haven't. So now that I'm here, planted in front of this machine, I'm loath to get up and walk away for fear of missing something. Matt and I don't usually speak to each other when something big is on the horizon. We IM and email mostly. And then Sunday afternoons we have a talking binge after church.

Anyway, enough blogging. A is weeping that the letter stickers are hurting him. I don't know how on earth such a thing would be possible. But if there's a way to be hurt by something, A will be the one to find it. Yesterday I caught Baby (I really need to start calling him R) smacking A and taking his toys. A was weeping instead of defending himself. This surprised me, given that A is twice the size of R. But what do I know. So many find babies intimidating and scary, I guess A falls into that category. Maybe I should send R to New Orleans with Matt. I'm sure a punch and a bite from him will show KJS and the ABC how things ought to be . Honestly, someone stop me, this could go on for hours!

Pizza, then later the House of Bishops

Pizza for Supper, I should have taken a picture.

I made one regular pizza dough (Joy of Cooking Basic Pizza Dough) with tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni—not something I would usually do, but we were cooking for people in the church. And then for us I substituted one cup white flour for whole wheat and, having run out of tomato sauce made a béchamel with the left over cheese and topped it with feta, basil, fresh thyme, some of the rest of the pepperoni and a little bit of cheddar. My main fault was getting tired and using all the whole wheat dough on one pizza. Should have done two, but other than that it was (I thought) delicious. My mother keeps insisting its not really pizza with a béchamel instead of tomato but I’m sure someone in Italy, at some moment in time has done what I just did, surely (even though I’m not Italian at all).

Managed also to move baby out of the nursery in with the other two kids by entirely taking apart the crib and putting it back together. They’re all in there together shouting happily. Hope they decide to sleep. This allows me a dedicated nursery for the next baby to scream it out in, when that auspicious moment arrives.

So now, I’m sitting here trying to decide whether to go to bed (its 8 o’clock and would really be a good idea) or whether to read more comments on Stand Firm, or start work on this Sunday’s bulletin, or keep shoving things in cupboards, or read some sort of news or politics online.

It occurs to me that no amount of reading or speculating quietly to myself will have any impact on the House of Bishops Meeting next week. None. What a depressing thought. I could pray about it.

complaint

I'm cleaning out my cupboards. I'm sickened by the amount of stuff we've managed to jam into this house in a short 5 years. We have so much furniture you can barely walk through the house, and every closet and cupboard is jammed. I have three enormous bags of paper I'm throwing, and there are bags and bags of clothes I want to get rid of, and really, I'm ready to start putting the furniture out on the curb to be taken on garbage day.

There are all kinds of spiritual conclusions I could draw from this, and I invite you to go ahead and draw them.

I am going to have a cup of hot milk and go to bed. Perhaps in the morning all this stuff will look different and I will long to keep it all.

Vanity, thy name is

I was staring at my little profile picture last night and it was making me irritated. Its a good picture (if I do say so myself), one of my best, which, of course, is why I picked it. But I'm 8 and something months pregnant and I don't look that thin right now and so looking at me all skinny day after day is starting to get on my nerves. The picture now there is of Blenheim Castle. I believe I was 10 when I visited it with my parents and we had our picture taken out front. Rather think it looks like we own the place. Much more restful to look at (for me). We'll see how long that lasts.

Now, what is the gospel about?

Matt posted this morning on Stand Firm an excellent articulation of the Gospel, made all the more timely by this very telling (heh) quote from Elizabeth Kaeton at Telling Secrets (hat tip Matt via Captain Yips)

“If Christ Jesus wasn’t crucified because he was being true to his authentic self, so that we, like him, might be able to live our lives with integrity, then I have completely misunderstood the message of Jesus and I have no right to call myself a Christian, much less an Episcopalian in the Anglican tradition.”

Well, yes, absolutely. Couldn't have said it better myself. I commend Matt's article to Ms. Kaeton and hope that it will clear up her various misunderstandings.

More Conversation with E

On the way home from school

E:Today I went to art class.
Nonni:You did? What did you make?
E:I made a picture and I had to fill up the whole page. The WHOLE PAGE.
Nonni:What colors did you use?
E:Blue, and red, and yellow.
Nonni:Aha! The primary colors.
E:Why are they PRIMARY?
Nonni:Because if you’ve got red and blue, you can make purple; and if you’ve got red and yellow you can make orange, and if you’ve got blue and yellow you can make green. So with three primary colors you can make three more.
E:Oh. I didn’t finish making a present for your daughter.
Nonni:You didn’t? Who’s my daughter?
E:MOMMY! She’s your daughter! Didn’t you know that?
Nonni:I knew that. I was just checking to make sure we were both on the same page.

A Small Remembering

Matt and I had been married exactly one month six years ago today. Generally we got up and turned on the news and got ready for classes at Virginia Theological Seminary, where we were both studying (about 5 minutes from our townhouse in Alexandria). I remember looking in the mirror, one month after fitting into my gorgeous and tiny wedding dress, and thinking 'wow, I'm really thin, this is really great' or something like that, and shoving myself into a pair of tiny trousers and a periwinkle colored blouse and feeling fabulous. Anyway, we didn't turn on the news. We just got ready to go and got in the car and started driving in towards DC to the Dominican House where we had a class that morning. We'd been in the car maybe 55 seconds when I turned on the news and we heard the live reporting from NYC. Two or three minutes later, once we were actually on 395, we heard the Pentagon get hit and then all the aftershocks (thought the whole city was being bombed) and were immediately routed off onto Quaker Lane. We wended our way back to the seminary and watched TV for the rest of the day. Late afternoon there was a service in the chapel, at which the dean and some student only wore black cassocks. Weeks after there was arguing over whether or not they should have worn white surpluses over the cassocks. Wanted to scream every time I heard this discussion going on.

I think a lot changed immediately. The seminary, already divided politically and theologically became polarized. Matt and I spent more and more time together in our apartment studying. And we decided to have a baby right away, which was a shock and horror to the seminary community as well. And since that morning I try always to listen to or read the news before leaving the house. One never knows.

Morning Thought From E

Getting in the Car to go to school

E: I’m not coming home tonight.
Matt: Why?
E: I’m staying over (at school)all night.
Matt: Well, I think it’s a regular day. I think you’re coming home tonight.
E: That’s not quite what I was expecting.

Growing Up

Well, we're officially parents. I know this news probably doesn't shock many of you, given that we're about to have our fourth child. But it has come as a shock to me. We went to the first Parent's Open House at E's school this evening. She's been in school nearly a whole week and has been coming home day after day in a complete fog.

'How was school, E?' I say every day.
'Good' she says.
'What did you learn?
'I learned to read and write.'
'Oh, well, that's wonderful' I say. But beyond that she hasn't been able to tell me anything (it is a LONG day-8am to 2:30pm). So we've been kind of in a cloud of unknowing, wondering what she does all day and hoping its what we signed up for.

But it turns out that all is well. She is learning many things and will over the course of the year.

She has a wonderful teacher, a Mrs. Rising, but we really know her best as Miss Wising. And a nice colorful class room full of mostly girls and only three boys (Caleb, Caleb and Giovanni-I can't wait to meet this young men, what a wonderful gift, Caleb, Caleb and Giovanni). And, for me, a whole new set of responsibilities-the blue school shirt for chapel day, the gym clothes for gym days, the Friday packet and homework, the lunch each morning, the upcoming parties for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Valentines' Day, and a lot of things I've already forgotten.

But most of all, I'm profoundly grateful that E is in a nice school where she will actually learn something, rather than at home with me, the two of us struggling day after day over letters
('What's this letter, E?'
'A' says E
'What sound does it make?'
'Pppp' says E
'E, seriously, you think this A makes a Pppp sound?'
'Hah, no, it says Ahhh'
'E, do you understand why you would want to know what this letter says?'
'Oh yes, so that I can read. But I already can read, so we don't need to do this.'
And other such conversations).

I've come to view the schooling of my children much like child birth. The main thing is to make a lot of plans and figure out how best it ought to happen, and then as soon as you get into the thick of it, chuck all the plans and do something that's really going to work. And then, having chucked the plans and had things go very differently than you intended, rejoice and give thanks for a healthy child, or a child learning to read, or whatever it is, and not feel guilty about it. That's what I'm doing tonight. And hopefully I'll still be doing it in the morning when I wake up at the despairing hour of 6 o'clock to make sure there's a lunch packed and a decent breakfast and launch into the battle of E having to wear the ugly blue chapel shirt instead of the nice pink blouse with the creamy buttons and the tucked sleeves. God help us all.

Rearranging the Furniture

I'm flipping my atriums.

I mean, I'm not buying a cheep atrium and fixing it up and selling it expensively, heh. I'm moving the 3 to 6s into the small room and the 6 to 9s into the big room. And of course, its like a sauna bath up there, the third floor of the church. I have two amazing and wonderful catechists who are there EVERY Sunday and who put up with my controlling and managerial attitude. So the three of us, and my mother, shoved book shelves and parables and infancy narratives around and I coerced my mother into looking at all the materials I've made over the last couple of years.

I'm deeply frustrated that my feet are so swollen so that I cannot run around and do all the shoving of furniture myself. So, both to comfort myself, and to become more holy, I'm going to start reading my mother's lovingly worn copy of Gold By Moonlight by Amy Carmichael.

Update on Change of Plans

Well, I'm really too hot and tired to blog. The computer is too hot. Everything is too hot and sticky. We're waiting for another storm to roll in and while we wait I continue to sin against God and my neighbors in the vast area of having a very very short temper and being less and less able to cope with any adversity at all. I've been reading other women post about how gracious God has been in giving them patience in the care and nurture of their children, but even just reading posts about patience puts me in a bad temper.

So, thank heaven's! my mother arrived safe and sound, just in the nick of time. She's exhausted with jet lag and surprised also by the heat, I think, but full of patience and all good things, including chocolate, and small wooden Swedish horses and a real genuine Malian Balafon for A (pictures forth coming-I know I keep promising that).

All I want to say tonight, is THANK YOU, all of you who prayed for our friend. He was released from the hospital today, in tact, better even, than before, with a long road of recovery ahead of him, but SAFE and Sound. Thank you. Part of the reason I haven't posted all week is because Matt and I have been over to see him a few times and have been fielding calls of inquiry about his well being. God is good and we're so grateful.

So now, really, this keyboard is too hot for words. I'm going to shove away this large furry cat (Seriously, Micah, come get your cat, four hot cats is TOO MANY) and go lie in front of the fan.

a change of plans

We've been trying to clean this wretched house all day. Its been hot, and we had to go out and get groceries (blessings of blessings, Matt pushed the cart all over the store and got everything while I leaned on it and wondered whether the baby was just going to drop out of me or not), and we're tired as we always are on Mondays, and well, we just haven't been able to pick up and clean.

And then, around 4 pm, just when we thought we might really get up and do it, we went instead to pray for a beloved friend and parishioner who is facing a serious surgery tomorrow morning and to bring him communion and just hang out for a bit. We prayed and talked and got to see his wife and baby and just be there. And then we got back in the car and realized that there are a lot more important things than a clean house. And that rather than going home and cleaning we should go and pray some more and talk to our kids and pray some more, and if we go through the week with a messy house, well, so what.

I hope you will join us in prayer tonight for this man, our friend, his family, his wife and baby and for our whole church. God is good. He will make all things well. We pray this tonight, with our whole heart and soul.

Threads and Loose Ends

Today and tomorrow are my last days to sleep in, probably ever. E starts school on Wednesday and has to be there early, seemingly the crack of dawn (8am), and its far away. So I will begin a long year of waking up early to get her there in tact and prepared. I don't know how its going to work out, obviously only by the grace of God.

Some of you know that I tried to do 'some preschool' with E at home last year as a testing of the waters of homeschooling. I'm deeply grateful to God that I tried this out because it turns out that E and I drive each other crazy and that the chances of her learning anything at home, let alone reading, writing, arithmetic, and the love and grace of God, are very very very low. So she is very excited to go off and has clothes for it, and supplies for it, and a lunch box and can't wait. And I am grieving and wishing she weren't already 5, and digging out my books to try my experiment again with A, who seems to be a very different little person than E.

So this week everything changes for us, even as the march toward Baby # Four drives relentlessly on. I was so tired after church yesterday, Matt got in the car and looked at me and said, 'wow, you're really pregnant,' in an amused way. Wanted to hit him but didn't have the energy. Which brings me to the real reason I was going to post this morning, and that is to link his sermon, which he has helpfully posted himself on Stand Firm. I've been trying not to constantly link to SF on the assumption that all of you who read me read there first anyway, but I was planning to post his sermon and he beat me to it.

The last few weeks, as I've mentioned before, I have been moved and fed by Matt's sermons-a surprising happenstance, especially when I've read the sermon ahead of time, as I did this week. I'm posting this one because many threads came inexorably together as I was listening to him, winding themselves into the firm tight Point that it is now time, more than ever, for me to Count the Cost. I've been counting the cost in vague and disorganized way. I go about my life at church and home knowing on some level that things in the wider church are getting hotter and messier, but basically not worrying about it too much.

But yesterday as I listened to Matt I was thoroughly bowled over by reality. This isn't going to get better, right away any way. The communion stands to be unraveled. The American church is on the edge of dissolution and destruction. Good Shepherd has been and will be affected. Me, I am in this mess also. I've written these things down before, but today, somehow, they seem real.

So, we're going to clean the house seriously today. And get some groceries in. And get my mother's room ready for her. And make sure E has everything she needs. But also, today, as I do all these routine things, I'm going to seriously count the cost, and ask God to show me what is required, what I must do, how I must be, even as he judges the church and my own small heart.

HAPPY Birthday!

I want to wish my dad a very Happy Birthday today. I think he's still gallavanting around Europe with my mom, getting in some nice holiday before school starts in Nairobe in a few days. I've been reflecting all day on what, if anything, my father has taught me and have concluded that 1. he has taught me a whole lot and 2. the most important of which is to try always and in everything to have as good a time as possible. So I hope he is having a very good time today, and I also miss him very much and wish he would opt for a good time, cut class, and come back to Binghamton with my mom. Happy Birthday!

A Little Something

I've been lurking around the myriad of Catholic Mothers out there Blogging, many of them having lots of babies, many of them homeschooling, all of them very pious and holy. And the great fad seems to be this widget baby thing you can post up showing how big your baby is getting, day by day, and how many days to go. So, in honor of the very nice person who encouraged me to 'keep gestating', I thought I'd put one up myself, even though I'm not catholic, nor that pious. Enjoy.

Children in Conversation

E (with doll stuffed in shirt): Come on Spiderman. Its time to go to the hospital and have a baby.
A: Ok, Cinderalla, let's go.

Later...

A: Tomorrow we will go on a bear hunt.
E: That will be scary. I will take a doll.
A: Yeah. I will have to bring a sword. Bears are everywhere...If I kill the bear, the bear will be killed, right?
K (friend of us all): That's right.
...
E: You know who is really strong? God. Even Mommy. And I can take care of my dolls.
A: I can take care of the bears.
E: I think that's God's job.
A: I want to take care of the bears.
E: Well, maybe God needs a helper.
A: I can kill all the bears.
E: No, that's too much of a job.

Gathering Storm

It feels like its a hundred degrees, even though apparently it is only 80 something. We're waiting for a storm to come in but it seems to be taking its own sweet time. We're all at angles and corners. A spit part of his lunch out and so, in consequence, is sitting in front of his bowl, still. He could have gotten up without eating it all but the spitting ruined that option for him. He is moaning. E carefully hid our nice Alphabet Flash Cards, presumably for some game or other, and so she is not doing anything fun this afternoon, but is wandering around looking for the last five.

'Look in the places where you hid them' I've said 36 times.
'Oh' she says each time.

If she finds them maybe she'll have some chocolate milk, but at this rate it will be tomorrow before that happens.
And the baby is hot and cranky. He's crawling around, his hair completely on end, exhausted because he woke up at 2am and then his nap was interrupted by his siblings shouting about something.

In all this moaning and shouting, I've been keeping a distracted glance on the Anglican TV live stream of the consecrations in Kenya. I've seen pictures of the cathedral from my mother who has gotten to sing there on occasion. My parents don't go often, I think, because traffic and crime are prohibitive (its no accident that the litany included something or other about safe driving).

I'm strengthened and encouraged by what I've seen, even the Kum Ba Ya (heh-reminds me of the strange experience of hearing a fancy Ivorian choir sing 'Allelu, Allelu, Allelu, Alleluia, Gloire au Seigneur'-Praise ye the Lord, fully expected them to stand up and sit down, but they just stood, at the Basilica in Yamasoukro, but that's another story). The storm continues to build ahead of September 30, and Lambeth and beyond, but these men (and women, shocked to see so many women clergy) are walking headlong into the thunder and lightning, their faces set.

I'm encouraged to keep going myself. I will admit. I've been anxious. I don't want the whole communion to come unglued. I don't want, potentially, to have to walk away from our church building, this house, this neighborhood (God willing, we won't have to). I don't want to deal, any more, with an apostate and heretical "church" flinging itself headlong into spiritual death. But I've got to keep walking forward, into the storm, even though I don't want to. I've got to and I can, with God's help. That Africa, and other parts of the world, in the face of slander, racism, condescension and loss should continue to chart a way forward, should continue to trust in God and do the hard work of spreading the gospel, should be able to stand up to the west and its lies, well, I can pull it together and stop moaning myself. God is in charge. He has a solution to this whole mess. He is on the other side of the storm. For heaven's sake, he is in the storm.

Not in anyway to get away from the subject of preaching, but I've been wanting to post about my Summer Sunday School project for some time and I've finally got the pictures off my camera, so I wanted to put them up and describe a little bit of what we did. For those of you who missed the post way back in June, we have serious Sunday School ALL summer, for adults and children. This arose in part because Matt just kept teaching the first year, and we had so many new people in the church that it didn't occur to them to take the summer off. And of course, all the adults having educations meant that the children had to have something as well. I've been insistent that Catechesis of the Good Shepherd not go on all year-everyone needs a break-and so every summer we cast about in a panic about what to do with the kids. One year we read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe outloud. Another year we sat around in a hot room and read the book of Judges. This year, in a fit of exasperation, I prayed about it (imagine! Prayer!) and then went to AC Moore to think about what might be interesting. And within an hour I had filled my cart with every manner of good things and concocted (although I suppose that would have to be God) an idea to go with it.

The first week they got a box to paint. Here is one.

And mine


The week after they got a little wooden booklet sort of thing to paint. I took the flimsy paper out and cut nice thick paper down to size. Each Sunday they got an object to paint or draw or glue and a verse to go with it. They had to copy the verses themselves into their little books.
Here is the outside of my book. As you can see, I had a theme going.


The verses they got to go with that first week were Hebrews 4:12; Psalm 119:105; Psalm 119:11; and John 1:1.
After that we did the Law with Deuteronomy 6:4-6 and they got a little wooden heart to paint.
Then the Cross, 1 Corinthians 15:3-4, and a cross to paint.
Then Light and Salt, Matthew 5:14-16. This was a favorite. They got a candle holder, a candle and a little jar which they themselves filled with salt. I had thought they would just paint the candle holder but they painted everything-candle, holder, salt jar, cork, everything.
For Communion, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, I found little cups and plates which they took out and sprayed gold and then some painted on top of the gold. These also turned out beautifully, and the business of going out and spraying gold paint everywhere was a huge success.
For the True Vine, John 15, they got little pots and glued little mosaic pieces onto to them (or painted them) and then a packet of seeds. I had thought to hand out dirt, but didn't in the end, and it was just as well. The glue was fairly messy.
The Good Shepherd, John 10:11-14, was little boards onto which they drew or copied a Good Shepherd icon picture. I had a bunch they could choose from. Some where really detailed, others more plain, but all turned out well.
That was a lot of scripture so then they got a book mark on which to illuminate their favorite verse from the summer. Last week was a puzzle/synthesis. And this coming week they will get get small cards and envelopes to write something to God, a final note to put in the box and then they can take the lot with them.
Then I have a week off before Catechesis kicks off again for the fall. Gasp.
So, here are two of my favorites. These two rarely missed a sunday and spent plenty of time on detail. They will both get a prize for a full box, and should they (or anyone else) choose to memorize the verses, they will get an enormously special and huge prize. I have two that have set out to do this, so we shall see.
Here is one full set (up to this last Sunday).

And another.


I'm going to post this as it is and put more pictures in another post for fear of loosing what I've got. Anyway, it was a fun project that kids responded VERY well. It was exactly the right age for this sort of hands on work (6 to 12). If you're casting about for something to do, I recommend this highly. Smearing paint around and dwelling over some important scripture can't be beat.

preach something real, for heaven's sake

Matt pointed out to me last night that I haven't written anything interesting in ages, other than vignettes of family life and vacation and this and that. Point well taken. I haven't really had much of a mind for anything lately. At his, Matt's, behest I have tried to lay aside the endless stacks of PG Wodehouse novels (to which I have been devoting myself utterly and completely) and read a book on preaching, expository preaching to be exact. It is actually an excellent book, when I can read more than three lines without falling asleep. So far it varies from my seminary education in one major way-namely, that the preacher's exegetical work should stick out in the text of the sermon, so that everyone can see it, rather than being worked seamlessly into the sermon's own 'narrative'. The author (hang it all, I can't remember his name, and I'm too pudgy to get off the couch at this particular moment and find the book; I'll try and post it later) believes that the hearer of the sermon, over time, should be trained to be able to test and evaluate the preacher's exegesis themselves, because it is evident in the sermon itself. This approach does move the sermon over and out of the camp of 'experiencing a narrative moment' (what I have heard called "The Preach Moment" (if this doesn't alarm you, nothing else I can say will) and into one of 'teaching', which is, frankly, not at all a bad thing given the state of most Episcopal churches in America today. Every Sunday an empty experience that makes the hearer feel like they've been fed, when, in fact, there was nothing there. On the whole I agree entirely and am even determined to finish the book.

However, it saddens me that things have gotten so bad in the church that I would have to let go of my beloved narrative poetical sermon style. I'm good at it, I'll be honest. I love the process of study and writing and the narrative that emerges. I was considered a fantastic preacher in seminary and my ego grew accordingly. It can be a beautiful experience, both to write and to hear a narrative style sermon and I've been fed by the real substantial narrative preaching of some Episcopal priests who were good at this model. However, it really doesn't work in the ordinary life of the parish. Its too wispy. I've become wispy, I think, in my preaching. It can't all be blamed on the style, of course, I keep having babies instead of doing good solid exegesis, but that is certainly part of it. The church needs more substance, and needs to be able to check the preacher's work against the Scriptures, and needs to be involved in the process of the sermon itself. It has reached, practically, crisis proportions.

Never the less, letting that go and moving onto the greater and weightier task of expository preaching, in the wake of Matt who is, frankly, getting to be excellent at it, will be my task once I have regained some serious lung space and gotten some good sleep. I will keep you posted as to how it goes.

Happy Anniversary Again!

Happy 40th Anniversary to Matt's parents, Doug and Shawn Kennedy! Matt informed me today that they have been an exemplary model of a good marriage for him, and he is abundantly grateful for their witness and life together. I have heard that they celebrated at the very restaurant at which Matt pleaded with me to marry him. I agreed, of course, only to put him out of his own misery (just kidding). Anyway, I had quail that night. I think Matt had duck. I am longing to know what Shawn and Doug had. May the next 40 years be even happier than the last!

Happy Anniversary!

I would like to wish my mom and dad a Very Happy 33rd (I think) Wedding Anniversary! They, I am jealous to report, are have a nice few days in Brussels next to the Grand Place and are eating a lot of nice things-Moules, frites, muscadet, chocolate-everything, indeed, that I long for. In honor of them I have just made two loaves of brown bread, one full loaf of white, two small mini loaves and a pan of buns and a large bundt of Monkey Bread. May the next 30 years be even happier than the last!

Babies and Cake

In honor of my birthday, and because I'm really only a few weeks away from delivering this baby, we lugged all the children to the doctor this morning to see the ultra sound. I generally try to go alone to the doctor because I don't like to scare first time mothers with a lot of children. You can see their eyes widening when you walk in with a whole bunch and imagine what they must be thinking--same thing I thought when I was on Baby #1, 'boy, that woman has a lot of kids, she must be exhausted, hope I'm never that tired'. But today we braved it and were duly rewarded by some great shots of this baby's face, chubby cheeks and all, and an excellent looking spine, and all the limbs in the right place. God is so good. And then A, in awe and wonder, taking his finger out of his mouth and gasping, 'I love G so much'. Even R was swept up in the moment, shouting loudly and unintelligibly.

So, the days are flying by, and I have been admonished by the doctor not to imagine that I will make it all the way to the 14th of October, but to plan on the arrival of this baby rather sooner. No complacency for me. So Matt had better high tail it home from the HOB meeting the end of September-It will be such an exciting week for So Many Reasons.

Also, in honor of me, he (Matt) baked his first ever cake. He has mastered food of every kind, but never ventured into baking. He turned out, after much thought and consideration, Nigella Lawson's Dense Chocolate Loaf, covered in whipped cream and baked to absolute perfection. Honestly, the heavenly host of angels probably wishes they could eat this cake. This after setting out sausages and mashed potatoes and peas for dinner (hey, its my favorite, I was born in England). All that was missing was a packet of brown sauce.

And, I was given a sleek new camera, so here is a picture of the cake.

Joy Cometh in the Morning, Blast It

In honor of my birthday tomorrow, I waddled down to the DMV to renew my driver's license. I could have sent in the form a month ago after having had an eye test, but I lost the eye test form and forgot about the date and completely mucked it up. So it occured to me that going in person Before the day it expired might be a good thing, which I did.

I found an out of the way little known DMV in a tiny room of a large city office building inhabited by one extremely competent DMV person and a short line of people. I lumbered in and stood in line for a second and then sat in one of the two available chairs.

A nice friendly gentleman asked me when I was due.
'Mid October' I said.
'You're first?'
'No, this will be my fourth'
He staggered backwards. 'You have more courage than me' he said.
Then another large pregnant woman came in (such a lot of pregnant ladies for such a small space) who there upon made me feel like a wimp by standing while I sat.
Anyway, when it was my turn in line, it took me a total of THREE Minutes to renew my licence! Amazing. I got away in 25 after having paid 2 hours for parking because I figured it would take that long. Happy Birthday to Me!

Which brings me to my first deep Blog reflection about having a birthday. I know, we all have them. For Matt, his birthday is the best day of the year, aside from Christmas. Apparently, in his youth, he ate ice cream all day and opened presents and was perfectly happy (this is his own account of the past). I have never been able to live up to this kind of happiness.

My birthday was always and consistently the day I had to report back to boarding school. Even if I didn't make it back to school on that exact day, it was always within the week, looming like a black depressing cloud over the whole business of getting older. As time went by, I became antagonistic towards the day of my birth and felt that it was the one day, sent by God, to teach me that life is a veil of tears and all flesh is grass and we are but dust and to dust we shall return.

Later, in college, I tried to reclaim a sense of joy about being alive and getting older by celebrating my birthday for the whole month of August, so that the one day wouldn't be the focus of any attention, happy or unhappy.

This practice, however, of celebrating myself for several weeks rather than being distraught for one day, runs contrary to every fiber of the Kennedy being. Matt, his mother, probably all of his sister and his cousins and his aunts, expect that one's birthday is a cause for joy and happiness.

Matt, just now, leaning over, inquired what I would like for breakfast on my birthday. Well, according to my sin nature, I ought to eat oatmeal and then work really hard for the up building of the kingdom. I refuse to get all expectant and happy, no matter what.

However, reviewing the situation from afar, objectively, as it were. I do have every cause to celebrate. I've done an awful lot in a relatively short time. I'm about to have my fourth child. I have two degrees. I am happily married. I have a interesting and rewarding job in the church. I know how to cook and bake. I'm not sick. I have too much stuff. I have lots of family and friends. And, apparently, I'll be having a nice breakfast in the morning. Oh, and my roses are still blooming. And my mother is coming in two weeks. And my cat has forgiven me for going away. And I don't have to share a computer with Matt. Wow, the blessings are wildly abundant.
Anyone want to guess how old I'm going to be?

smatterings

The children are cold, or feigning coldness. After complaining about being too hot for three weeks, they are now too cold in 70 something degree weather. E has dug out an ancient and tiny coat she used to wear (it was her favorite then and appears to be her favorite now) and is wearing it over her sundress. Matt is mowing the lawn in a dedicated and devoted way. I'm supposed to be unpacking, but I can only work for about 10 minutes before I have to sit down and rest for 15. So far I've put away my toothpaste and shampoo, jammed some flowers into a jar, changed all the children's bedding, and read every conceivable blog I can get to. Its going to take me all week to get things put away, sigh.

However, that is really my only unhappiness. We came back to an energized and enthusiastic church yesterday. Amazingly, for the first time in this job, no crises arose in our absence and people did Ministry! Not just keeping the floors clean and toilet paper stocked, they've taken spiritual care of each other and various visitors and guests who came each week. So encouraging. And there are a plethora of ideas floating around for the fall. Along with unpacking this week I'm going to have to sit down and sort through all the options and plan what all we can do.

And our garden grew. So surprising. I've heard that if you put seeds in the ground they come up, but I've never experienced if first hand. I've got to figure out a way to take pictures.

Home Again. Home Again. Jiggidy....

Its nearly 10pm.
We're home in Binghamton. I had no intention of taking such a long break from blogging. My last post was from San Antonio and I had thought to post again the next day in Corpus, but the wireless options were highly limited, such that if I wanted to pilfer a connection from the neighbors I would have had to perch in an odd position in the bathroom-awkward for me in my present physical condition, and awkward for anyone who wanted to be in that particular room. So after a day or so I accepted my wireless computerless fate as one inflicted by God and did other things.

It amazes me that life goes on without the Internet. Amazes Me! I didn't even miss it as much as I thought I would. There were lots of other things to do. I spent some good solid lovely time with Matt's Mom and then later his sister and her kids. We went to the beach for a couple of days. We went on Sunday to a very fine Reformed Episcopal Church (I have notes of the sermon which will be forth coming in a day or so). We went shopping for school clothes and supplies. We watched the baby FINALLY walk (August 13th, 4pm in the afternoon). We watched E and her cousin, J, and A play with Transformers, Super Heroes and a large luxurious doll house all at the same time. And we watched cousin C lustily call for food and help. C, by the way, loves to eat, which is a great gratification for those of us who love to cook.

I would happily sit here and tell you all about it right now, but tomorrow is Sunday, and that means Church, which means getting up early and doing all the work that God has given me to do. So, I will not indulge myself. I will go to bed and tell you all about it tomorrow.

Children and their Shoes

So I've swung from being up far too early to being up far too late. I really can't think straight. I'm sitting in a fabulously comfy chair in my sister in law's house watching these amazing pictures of the bridge in Minnesota going down. Various people are being interviewed about where they were and how they got out. Interesting the number of times I've heard the words 'luck' and 'coincidence'.

While the residents of Minneapolis were coping with this amazing happenstance today, we (by that I mean Matt's Mom, Shawn, and sister, Megan and all the children excepting Rowan who was left miserably home with Matt for the day, since no one really wanted to lug him around) went School Shoe Shopping.

Quite far from luck, really more in the category of Divine Providence, was the playground directly in front of the shoe shop. So we took the kids in one by one to try on shoes instead of everyone going in together spreading chaos and mayhem abroad. And then lunch, and then ice cream, and then home to recover. I was interested in the process of trying on shoes. A went first and was weepingly dubious about having his feet measured. But then recovered and solemnly (the child could have been at the altar rail for all his piety) tried on three pairs of shoes, walking around in each one, finally picking the first pair. All, essentially, without words. E was next and requested to try on all the pink shoes, ended up not liking any of them and finally settled On Her Own on a pair of plain blue sensible Mary Jane type shoes. When asked why she wanted those ones, she replied that she liked them, 'because they are A's favorite color'. Very curious. Then she helped me pick out baby shoes for Rowan-sensible blue.

So now, given that they are all in bed and asleep, and my eyelids are sliding together, and I don't want to see any more of these pictures but would rather go and pray for all those who work or watch or weep this night, I will put this aside and go to bed.

On the Road Again

Meant to get up at 5 to pack so that we could be on the road by 8am. But its now 6:37 and I'm still basically comotose, working through a tepid cup of tea. Really, let's be honest, I blame Matt. For some reason, since a horrible moment in Nashville when the handle broke off one of our two mugs, Matt has felt that I am to have this broken mug every morning, while he has the one with the handle, rather than trading off every other morning. So, at 5 am, when be brought me the broken handle mug full of tea (and let's be honest about that too--I ran out of good tea when we got to Dallas and I've been drinking something that vaguely tastes like dishwater ever since), I just couldn't cope and rolled over and went back to sleep. So, I don't imagine that we will be leaving by 8, particularly since before actually getting up, I have to confess my sins AGAIN and try to be a better person. Of course, I could be grateful that Matt brings me tea at all, but since when is gratitude one's first response in the morning, if we're going to be perfectly honest about it? If its yours, at least wait until this afternoon to let me know, when I'm awake and and holy.

More from San Antonio!