a small world afterall

I've been meaning to write about a wonderful coincidence that happened several weeks ago when school began, but I keep getting sidetracked. Let me just begin by saying that it really is a small, small world. Here's the story.

At kindergarten orientation this summer I signed up to help with Art Volunteers in the Classroom, which is an exciting elementary school program in our district that enables parents with a background or interest in art to go into the classroom to teach. Very cool. Anyway, at the start of the school year I went to a meeting at the coordinator's house. It was a cute farmhouse-like home just a few blocks from mine and although I had never seen it before or met the woman hosting the meeting, I had an odd sense of familiarity. It was strange, but I had the feeling that I had seen the inside of this house before.

After dropping our kids off for kindergarten that afternoon, I chatted with the woman in whose home I had been. I discovered that she was an artist and then asked her if she liked to visit blogs. After a few moments, we realized that not only did we visit many of the same blogs, we had visited each other's blogs! In fact, I often visited her blog and, in pictures, had seen glimpses of the inside of her house. But I had no idea that she - Emily - lived anywhere near me. (I do, however, remember my friend Ann telling me about Emily's blog and saying that she thought Emily might live in my town. I just figured, what are the chances of that? And how would I even find her if she did?)

Most of what I knew about Emily was that she was an excellent knitter and that she dyed yarn (gorgeous yarn) and sold it in her Etsy shop. But a few days later, upon further investigation of her blog, I discovered that she also sews art quilts, incredible ones. As I perused Emily's art quilt website, I began to get that familiar feeling again. I knew I had seen these quilts before, and I had! Emily was one of the featured quilters on a PBS special I had watched on DVD called The Art of Quilting. How crazy is that?

I, wannabe quilter and aspiring excellent knitter, get to loiter on the school grounds waiting for the dismissal bell with this gem of a woman who is every bit as down to earth as she is talented. Every day I look forward to seeing her and talking to her. I guess you could say I had a blog crush that completely unexpectedly is becoming a real life friendship. Lucky me.

i think you should read this

It's a radical, convicting, beautiful statement of faith. It's in Esquire magazine. I think you should read it. That's all I'm going to say.

why my kids have a church family

Tonight was our church's second ever Third Tuesday Supper. Brought to life by a few visionary members, this event is - in my humble opinion - the greatest thing our church has done. Every third Tuesday of the month, tables are beautifully set, a delicious dinner is prepared, and from 5-7 pm the doors are open - to absolutely anyone. No charge. No strings attached. There is no donation basket, no soup kitchen atmosphere. This is a communal supper, shared by all. Both nights so far, we have served over 200 guests - probably an equal mix of people who attend our church and people from the community, young and old.

Liam and Elliott and I arrived at 5 pm and ate with a single mom and her teenage boy and an older woman who was clearly stretching her pennies and couldn't get over that the meal was free. After talking about high school and gardening and how fast kids grow, we excused ourselves and got to work. Aprons and name tags donned, Liam and I set about clearing plates, refilling water pitchers and visiting with friends and strangers, while Elliott worked the room and got showered with attention from the 5th and 6th grade girls who love him so.

My favorite part of the night was watching Liam approach people who had finished eating. "May I take your plate, sir?" "May I take your plate, ma'am," he'd say. It was the sweetest thing, and impressive, considering my only real instruction to him was to "use good manners."

I love that my five year old is serving people, especially people who are not used to being served. I love that my two year old is free to entertain, especially in a room of people who don't normally get greeted by an enthusiastic toddler. I love that elementary and middle school kids not only know my kids by name, but that they sweep them into a huge embrace every time they see them. I love that at this place, with these people, we can be the hands and feet of Jesus. I love that we not only feel at home, we are home. This is why my kids have a church family.

to the friendliest boy in town

Dear Elliott,

This morning I had errands to run and daddy thought I should take you with me (mostly because you were crying to go), but I was in a hurry and I wanted to run around alone. I sighed, and I took you. Because here's the thing, even with the extra time of strapping the car seat and towing you along by the hand, being with you in a public place makes my day. How many mamas of two-and-a-half-year-old boys can say that?

You, Mr. E, are an uplifter. You are a greeter, a welcomer, the friendliest boy in town. Every single person you see, you greet. "Hi!" you shout to the cart collector. "Hello!" you bellow to the old lady passing us in the parking lot. "Hi, hi, hi, hi," you repeat to the grumpy man who wouldn't typically give any child the time of day. Every person within shouting distance gets blessed by your friendliness. And nearly every one looks pleased to be noticed. A few stop to talk. Most say "hi" back. At the very least, we get a smile. There are times, like this morning, when I get teary eyed carrying you around. I get to be the proud mama of the blessing boy. It is a beautiful privilege indeed.



In addition to being gregarious and kind, you love to be silly. You wear funny things. Wigs and sunglasses are your favorites.

Yesterday you had to wear a little hospital gown and hospital socks. It wasn't so silly. You needed a procedure to check your tummy and mama and daddy dreaded it, but you were incredible. I will never forget the ache I felt looking at you on the scale with your little gown on and then watching you be wheeled away on the gurney. It is the worst moment for a parent, knowing that your little boy's care is completely out of your hands. It is in those moments when we have to have the most faith, knowing God's hands are underneath it all.

I also will never forget how much and how dearly I got to snuggle you yesterday. Even when I am an old, old lady, I will remember how your hair smelled and your warm little body felt all nestled into mine. A friend recently asked if it was really worth it to have kids. If for nothing more than than the snuggles, I give a resounding "yes"!

But there is so much more.

We always think that we have a lot to teach you - letters and numbers, not to bite, how to eat with a fork, the list goes on. But truly, you are teaching us, sweet boy. You are teaching us to be friendlier, to be curious, to be awed, to be silly, to be affectionate, to really love life. Without you, Elliott, we would miss so much.

Whenever we are out somewhere and you say hello to a couple people, you turn to me, look me in the eye and say sweetly, "I said 'hi.'" For a while I thought you were looking for approval or affirmation. But now I think you are encouraging me to step it up. "Look, mom," you're telling me, "I'm not hiding my light under a bushel. I'm out there. I'm brightening people's days. You can, too."

Elliott, you make me want to be a better person. Now, if that's not the sign of a remarkable child, I don't know what is.

Thank you, my friendly boy. You are a treasure.

Love,
Mama

doctored-up pumpkin bread

I love the day when the cans of organic pumpkin puree hit the shelves at Trader Joes. No other brand out there compares. This fall, I stocked the pantry and started pulling out our favorites, including Southwestern Pumpkin Soup and the deadly Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Squares. This weekend, though, I really wanted to make a pumpkin bread as a nice reward after umpteen million hours of yard work. The thing is, I am wary of pumpkin bread recipes because I have never found a good one. They are either too spongy or too spicy or too blah. Figuring I didn't have a lot to lose, I made up my own version. I think we found a winner.

Coconut Pumpkin Bread
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup applesauce
2 eggs
1/3 cup coconut milk
1 cup (1/2 can) pumpkin puree
1 3/4 flour
1 t baking soda
1 t salt
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t ginger
1/4 t nutmeg
1/4 t cardamom
1/2 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Mix together sugars, oil, applesauce, eggs and cocnut milk. Stir in pumpkin. Stir or sift together dry ingredients and fold into wet mixture. Stir in coconut and nuts (if using). Pour into greased loaf pan. Bake at 350 for an hour.

(This recipe would probably work without the white sugar if the brown was increased a bit. It would also work just using 1/2 cup of oil and no applesauce, and vice versa. And, as for spice, use ones that you like. Just be sure to get a good pumpkin puree, if you can.)

surviving sick days

Since Sunday Andrew has been holed up in bed with a bad case of man flu. (I say that only semi-jokingly since he was really quite sick.) The boys and I have been taking advantage of the library, the close proximity of grandparents and the beautiful yet fleeting days of autumn. In spite of loads of client work that is mostly getting done in the late evening hours, sleeping on the not-so-comfortable couch to try and stay well, and the herculean effort needed to stay on top of the dishes and laundry, we have faired okay being minus one for the week. (Thankfully daddy is on the road to recovery. Alleluia.)


Tonight I washed and packed away our little Indian boy costume. Both boys have worn it. I think I have a soft spot for boys in head dresses and fringe. We've also been packing away the homemade bread and granola and new smoothie concoctions, jammed with as many antioxidants and flu- and cold-busting foods as possible. Sometime they drink them and some days, when there's just too much raw broccoli, not so much. Secretly, I have been dreaming of cookies and loving Gourmet's favorite cookie recipes 1941-2008. I'm kind of obsessing over this one.

I have also been thinking a lot about my sewing machine, maybe because sitting at it this week is a sheer impossibility. So many projects started and ideas in mind, but I keep coming back to this project on Craft Hope, which is basically to make a quilt for a homeless child. The quilts are due November 15. I have never made a quilt or anything close. But it's on my mind. A lot. If my immune system holds up and I can catch up on my paying jobs, just maybe.


Despite the crazy smoothies and vitamin enrichment, Liam succumbed to a fever yesterday, too. I knew he was really feeling ill when he didn't fight staying home from school. In the late morning, however, he got a second wind and did some drawing. On his own initiative he made this for his teacher Mrs. McCloud. I love five. Just so darn cute.

there is no greater compliment

Every day I look forward to seeing if there is anything special in Liam's backpack after school. Today was sweet, indeed.

a destination story

Friday night I went with a friend to hear Donald Miller, an author I love, speak about his newest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. He said big, provocative, daring stuff. My favorite being that the idea of a blessed existence comes from commercialization. Because, in a nutshell, we are not here to be fulfilled or blessed or even part of some special plan. If you look at it from a global perspective, those are American ideas, not Biblical ones. Ultimately, said Don, we are here to write a story.

As a storyteller of sorts, I like the concept, but swallowing it goes against what most of us strive for - comfort, calm, security, safety, abundance. Because if a story consists of a character wanting something and having to overcome conflict to get it (consider every great story you've known and see if this isn't true), then writing a great story just sets a person up for pain and difficulty, not the stuff we usually go after (and think we deserve, are promised, etc.). And, it presupposes that one might actually want something other than new carpet, more sleep and the checks to come on time.

On Friday, Don told about his rude awakening when a couple screenwriters wanted to create a movie based on his first book, Blue Like Jazz, which is basically a collection of essays, and he realized that his life didn't make a very good story. It was boring and pretty uninspiring. It didn't have the elements of a great story. As a result, he started The Mentoring Project to address the lack of support and role models for fatherless boys. Taking on the project was scary and overwhelming. It takes time and money and energy to keep it going. But, as a fatherless boy himself, Don wants to see these kids loved and helped, and now he's going to overcome any conflict to do it.

The message in church this morning echoed so much of what Don said. I love when that happens. Feeling you are in all the right places at the right time, hearing things that are meant for you to hear. But it's not easy stuff. It would be simple to just nod, sign up to make some more lunches for the local homeless shelter and call it a day. I don't want conflict in my life any more than the next guy. But I think God does.

Think how we are with our children. We want to protect them. We try to keep them from difficulty and painful situations. But aren't we coddling them when we do this? If they don't experience pain and heartache and conflict, how can they ever be an empathetic friend to someone else? How can they ever understand the value of something? How can they ever grow? It pains us to see our children suffer but would we really want them to live a sterile, pain-free existence? I doubt it. And so, I believe, God feels this way for us.

He knows that it's the conflict that makes the difference between a lame story and a great one. But he also knows that it's hope that makes it possible to start writing. Hope like this:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
And the list goes on.

We don't have to be shaped by our past, whatever it is. Instead we can be formed by God's future, where there is justice and mercy and unconditional love. We can do big things, scary things, great story things, when we have this kind of hope and future.

The way I see it, God gave us a destination and he gave us a pen. Come what may, the rest is up to us.