Is that a bullwhip?

Outside my living room window, I just caught sight of my husband ascending a ladder perched against the side of the house, carrying a bullwhip. That in itself could elicit many comments, especially if I told you the whip hangs in the garage next to his Indiana Jones hat, but the fact of the matter is there is a creature scrambling madly within the walls of our house. Unnerving enough, it is appears to be contained within our bedroom wall. Thus, this morning I awoke not to the smell of coffee wafting up the stairs from the kitchen but instead to the scurrying of something Other. Unnerving. Rather than watch the confrontation between said creature and my husband as he is suspended fifteen feet above the ground (His weapon of choice is really a bullwhip?), I have chosen to blog, the last thing I should be doing. (Isn't there laundry to be put away? a floor to sweep? children to mind?) But I am exhausted, weary, drained and have not the needed energy to assert my will power and resist boring you with my thoughts.  And it is only Tuesday. All I really want is for the lovelies to be all snug in their beds dreaming of sugar plums and fairies and Cheetos while I curl up on the couch with my husband and watch a Woody Allen movie - one of his funny ones, like Play it Again Sam or Manhattan Murder Mystery - with a bowl egregiously filled with heavily buttered popcorn smothered in Parmesan cheese and a real Coke.  Nonetheless, I will share with you (aren't you terribly lucky?) a few things which I have gleaned over the past years from others much wiser than myself, things which I regard to be invaluable parenting advice:

The child who is annoying you the most and causing you to want to put your head through a wall is the child which you should hug, kiss, and love on most even if you don't feel like it and are unable to conjure up a good emotion, fake it - smile, kiss, whisper sweet nothings into these tiny ears even when you want to do the exact opposite - because as my dear husband once yelled down the stairwell of our two-flat in Chicago, "sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do!"

Baking soda is an absolute necessity within any household. Not only does it help combat and eliminate those nasty odors that linger and stink up your house and serve as a critical baking aid, when mixed with water, the paste will erase any blue or black ink marks that may mysteriously appear on your white wooden doors or cabinets. (Of course my children have never scrawled on anything they shouldn't.)

Finally, a glass of red wine or a bottle of beer at five o'clock (PM) is always a good idea.

Peace and goodness dear ones. Our camera is in the process of being fixed, so soon there will be less of my blather and more of my sweet ones' faces.

PS - Jared successfully rescued our disturber of the peace: It was a bird. It crawled up the bullwhip, out of its hole, and flew away. My husband is Indiana Jones!

Just some thoughts on a rainy afternoon

Just received this in an email. Thank you Father James!

"God never forces His will on us, which is exactly what He would be doing if He revealed it in lavish detail every day. Instead, He allows us the freedom to discover His will through our being open to the people and situations that He brings into our lives daily. God does not want slaves whose only choice is to obey Him or incur His wrath. He wants us to become a people of open hearts, willing to love and to serve and to go that extra mile with others, even when it is inconvenient for us to do so. Make no mistake, it is often inconvenient to love and to serve and to be open to the many unplanned and unexpected things that come our way. This is where the conflict with our own personal 'rules' is frequently encountered. We do like our day to go a certain predictable way, and we dislike interruptions to our routine or unusual demands by others. As such, we are not generally very open to the will of God intruding into our lives. We like order--I’m afraid mostly our order--and aren’t keen on anything that threatens this. What I’m suggesting here is that anyone who would follow Christ simply cannot afford to live this way. If we insist on life going according to our rules, we will always miss the will of God and the many little miracles that might change the course of our lives, directing them toward heaven. It would be good for us to adopt the prayer of Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow which says in part, 'O Lord, grant me to greet the coming day in peace. […] Bless my dealings with all who surround me. Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul and with firm conviction that thy will governs all. In all my deeds and words guide my thoughts and feelings. In unforeseen events let me not forget that all are sent by thee.' There is a bit more but this gives us the general idea. The good archbishop reminds us that the will of God is revealed to us every day, but seldom forcefully or directly as if on tablets of stone. More often it is gently revealed through the people and the situations that God allows the day to bring. If our eyes are closed to this revelation, our hearts will likewise be closed to the will of God. We will never see the presence of Christ in any difficult person or inconvenient situation. We will only see the difficulty, and will fight against it. This is where the brilliance of the little monastic rule shines through. Whenever someone asks you to do something for them (And we might add, whenever some circumstance or burden is placed upon you) make every effort to do it or see it through even if you don’t want to, for in this way we often find ourselves doing God’s will instead of our own. Notice that this little rule doesn’t require us to possess the insight of a saint, just an open mind and heart, and a willingness to comply more than complain. This is hard enough for us, but no one ever said that being a disciple of Christ would be easy. It is assumed that we must wrestle with our own will a bit in order to follow Christ actively. If we look through the scriptures we can easily find countless examples of people--from Abraham to Moses to Jonah to Simon Peter himself--who discovered the will of God only by doing what they did not want to do. Why should it be any different for us? Is our life more precious, our routine more sacred that we simply can’t afford to be inconvenienced by Jesus? I would suggest that we can’t afford not to be! This life is simply too short for us to focus all of our attention and energy onto it. We must serve our God while we can that we might find life everlasting in Him. +To the glory of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."

Practically perfect in every way

Arms thrust resolutely backward, her tiny body quakes in fury; from her mouth, enormous with rage, a wail of defiance spews forth. Looking down upon her, it is difficult not to be amused at such an outburst of righteous indignation by such a small person. Out of respect, I suppress a smile.

Arms clutched tight around my neck, her willowy body melting into my own, familiar words emerge in a whisper from her pursed lips and together we offer the night our song. Back and forth we rock, merging into one, quelling the bustle of the day, seeking rest. Her head nuzzled against my shoulder lifts in search of my ear, in the stillness, a secret to share, "I love you Stinky Face," her voice quavers. And then a smile and a giggle.

Our whimsical beauty turned two last Wednesday. We celebrated the following evening in a rather subdued manner; no party, just a dinner. "Beautiful," she stated when she saw the dinner table fresh with the cloth and napkins purchased at the leper hospital in Addis Ababa. Slight stains left over from last year's birthday wot were quickly covered with plates and glasses as we gathered around the table to celebrate this little girl, our Ethiopian princess, our delight. "What is your name?" I quiz here for the hundredth time, not because she doesn't know but because I like to hear it roll off her tongue. "Lucia." "Yes?" "Ethiopia." "And then little one?" "Kebedech." Happy Birthday to you, little two-year-old Lucia Ethiopia Kebedech. May you grow in wisdom and strength. And may your light always shine brightly in the world, revealing the beauty all around us.

And because you know how we feel about Mary Poppins, we thought we'd share Lu's rendition of "Spoonful of Sugar."

Distant Time

Distant Time
Rabindranath Tagore

I know not from what distant time

thou art ever coming nearer to meet me.

Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.

In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard

and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

I know not only why today my life is all astir,

and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

It is as if the time were come to wind up my work,

and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.

Poetry Wednesday

A Prayer for September 11th

O Lord our God, Who art Thyself, the Hope of the hopeless, the Help of the helpless, the Savior of the storm-tossed, the Haven of the voyager, the Physician of the sick; be all things to our land which ten years ago on this date was devastated by the cowardly and hateful acts of false martyrs; who imitated wicked Herod in his slaughter of 14,000 innocents, whose only crime was to be born at the time of Thine incarnation. For those who lost loved ones, grant the comfort you imparted to the Mary and Martha before you raised Lazarus and care for them as Thou didst care for Thy Mother from the Cross, putting her in the care of the Apostle John. For the survivors, grant them healing in every sense, as you strengthened and healed the confessors. For those related to and aiding the survivors and the families of the fallen, grant the strength and compassion Thou didst instill in Thy foster father Joseph, who was Thy guardian in Thine earthly youth. For those who died, grant them remission of their every sin in Thy great compassion; both those who like the wise servant and the wise virgins, constantly prepared themselves to enter the heavenly banquet at any hour; and those who emulated the Rich Fool, preferring to enjoy earthly pursuits and ignore heavenly ones. To the rest of us, instill in us the knowledge that while the devil still manipulates our Divinely-given free will to his own ends in this world, his power is fleeting and ultimately void, as Thou hast already crushed his dominion, leaving to him only those who freely choose him. Remind us that, while evil at times seems to win, and the death of the innocent seems to signal the destruction of goodness, the innocent are at peace; and while the God-fearing will endure a period of torment, those who choose evil shall endure eternal torment. For those who hate us, speak to their hearts as St. Procla sought to speak to her husband Pilate concerning Thee, and as Thou didst speak to Pharoah concerning the Hebrews, to soften the hearts of those who seek our destruction. Spare us O Lord, from all hatred of the murderers, and from prejudice toward those whose only crime is to be of their ethnicity and/or religion. Spare us, O Lord, from paranoia and rash acts by which we trample each other like rabid beasts. Spare, O Lord, those who protect us, those who serve in our government, armed forces, law enforcement agencies and all first responders, from despondency, disillusionment, and all things which would undermine their righteous calling to protect us in the manner of our Guardian Angels, and care for us in the manner of the Good Samaritan. All this we ask of Thee our all-powerful and all-loving Saviour, together with Thine unorginate Father, and Thine all-holy and good and life-giving Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

This prayer was posted in 2010 by the Right Reverend Bishop BASIL, Diocese of Wichita and Mid-America, Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America.

Memory eternal Paul and all those who died on that day and all those who have died as a result of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, especially the handmaiden of the Lord Adriana

It is Mary that we love

Standing at the counter, I feel a tug at my pajama pant leg. It is Lu. She has a request. "Mary Poppins.  Please?" From the living room, her oldest brother groans. Oh yes, little ones, momma will cue up the record player. Ready yourselves to dance to "Spoonful of Sugar." You may even hear me belting out "Jolly Holiday." After all, it is just so catchy. Beautiful, peaceful weekend to you all.

Practically Perfect In Every Way

Please pay special attention to the umbrella

As an aside, but one that cannot be overlooked for posterity sake, Thomas, Jared, and I have also been reading through the first Mary Poppins book (did you even know there were books?) and in homage to Miss Poppins, Jared wears my mother's vintage orange straw hat with pink flowers. You don't get much more manly than that.

Today you are seven

I hope that you have met good parents and that you will have a good life. I wish for you a beautiful life, with a beautiful face and a beautiful heart. Think of your life as precious, because you are a beautiful flower.... You will remain in my heart forever.... --from I Wish for You a Beautiful Life: Letters from the Korean Birth Mothers of Ae Ran Won to Their Children

From my kitchen window I watch him swing, his legs and bare, dirty feet flung carelessly up in air. Back and forth, my son, my first-begotten, in his stained, Korean football "Be the Reds" shirt flies under the late summer sun. Surrounded by mixing bowls with the remnants of crusted cheesecake batter, and graham cracker crumbs, broken egg shells, and the left over apple sauce from lunch (that I am hurriedly trying to rinse off and stash into the dishwasher before the tinies awake) I cannot help but ache and cry a little at the image before me: My baby; the child I never thought possible; the promised one; tomorrow he will turn seven.

Tears are probably a bit much. After all, it is only seven, still a child, still dependent on me, his mother. But we are on the cusp of a change, perhaps for now it is only subtle, but the shift has commenced and we can only move forward. I know it. I want it. It is what we strive for as parents. Still he asks to have me lie in his bed and curls his growing self into the curve of my body like he did as an infant. But for how much longer? Still he asks me to play Star Wars guys and Legos but I believe he prefers his friend Meredith from across the street. Still he throws his arms around my neck and says that his sister and I are his favorite girls. But the hugs are more reserved, more coaxed than impetuous and kissing his mother on the lips, well that is beginning to lack in appeal.

Tonight I will open up the cabinet that holds within its steel jaws the limited pieces of my son's early life and will again digest its contents in full so that tomorrow we can together begin to tell anew the story of the little boy Jung-hyun, the boy who seven months after his birth in a Seoul hospital was held tightly in my arms as Thomas, my son. Tonight I will be distracted as my heart is transported to the land of the morning calm, to a faceless Korean woman, whose visage must surely bear resemblance to that of her son, and wonder which features are hers. For now, I can only imagine. I will pray for those people, my son's family in Korea, and will ache and cry for them as well because I am not the only mother thinking of her child on this memorable day. So swing on, my little one with head tilted back, jet black hair hanging long on your ears. Swing high and free, unhindered, and without worry. Swing recklessly, with vigor and zest for life. Laugh and scream. Run and play. Live joyously. Happy Birthday to you my beautiful one. Today you are seven.