october 31

this is halloween. this is halloween. someone around here really likes to decorate. martha would approve.


and carve pumpkins. (hint: I was sick all week, so it wasn't me.)


this boy can't think of a better holiday. you get to dress up as your favorite character, run around the neighborhood ringing people's doorbells and get handed free candy. pure bliss.


"hey, I didn't even sit on the potty and I'm getting whole bags of this stuff. something crazy is going on here."


"argh! as much as I want to go on, 30 houses is my limit. must find blankie."

how many ways can you wear a paper plate?

:: antenna


:: wings


:: yarmulke


:: ventilator


:: nose


:: eyebrows


:: facepatch


:: jowls


:: muzzle


:: ears


:: mouth

Thanks to my good friend Tammy Caltagirone for being in the moment and capturing these awesome shots of my son creatively entertaining himself with a paper plate during his dad's student recital.

I married a difference maker

Around 3 a.m. this morning Elliott woke up. I tried twice to soothe him and put him back to bed, but he wouldn't have it. At 4 a.m. Andrew went in and the crying stopped for good. I went back to sleep. In the morning Andrew remarked that he would have preferred not to get up early, but he sure loved how Elliott burrowed into his chest and went back to sleep, arms hugging his dad, snoring peacefully. Andrew stayed with Elliott until he woke at 7:30. I would have complained. Andrew relished the experience. This is just one of the thousands of reasons I love my husband.

Nine years ago today Andrew and I got married. He was a foreigner (literally and figuratively) to my family. A Brit who moved here to marry me. Tattooed. Long haired. Guitar playing. Not an evangelical. My family loves me and were welcoming and gracious, but I don't doubt that many wondered if I knew what I was doing. Some probably still do.

Two years ago I wrote a list of ten things I love about Andrew. I think it's a sign of a great marriage that the list continues to grow. And he never stops surprising me. Here are some of this year's examples:

:: He is a stickler for not being taken advantage of by people who try to bend the rules but he is incredibly generous to those who don't ask for anything.
:: He is an active part of our church's mission committee, plays with the worship team almost every Sunday, helps run the Friday night movie series and has found many of his dearest friends among that body even though he has never been or would ever think of himself as "a church person."
:: He doesn't own anything that he wouldn't happily part with, including his hair.
:: He has never exercised or played a sport and he is more than halfway to a black belt.
:: He is the world's best Mr. Mom.
:: He has never ridden a school bus and will for the first time with Liam tomorrow when they go on a field trip to the zoo.
:: He does laundry. Very well.
:: He understands that everything he has is a gift.
:: He cares for people on the outskirts, those who are marginalized, underrepresented and misunderstood. He is a friend to the friendless. I absolutely love this about him.
:: He is blunt and direct and funny in ways that not everyone understands. But he is who he is and he'll never be anyone different.
:: He dreamt up, organized and pulled off a guitar recital and silent auction that raised over $2,000 for a playground for our sister church and orphanage in Lithuania.
:: He thinks I am beautiful all the time.

My husband always challenges me to look beyond the surface to see what's really essential. He is not, by any means, an appearance person. He looks far deeper than that. It's too bad that some don't extend him that same grace. They are missing out on knowing a great difference maker. But I thank God that I do. I am so lucky to be married to him.

now I lay me down to sleep

Over the last two weeks Liam has crawled into our bed because of nightmares at least three times. Each time he tells me in a pitiful little voice that he had a bad dream and then earnestly begs, "Will you pray for me?"

Every time, in that middle-of-the-night stupor, I feel simultaneously heartbroken that I cannot control my son's dreams and make his sleep peaceful, anxious that a prayer won't make any difference and grateful that praying is something we do. More than ever, I find that prayer is both complicated and simple, confusing and profound, seemingly worthless and absolutely essential.

Since Liam was born we pray together every night. Sometimes, especially lately, he will pray a short prayer before I do, usually focused entirely on not having bad dreams. Most of the time, it's just me who prays, often for five minutes or more. And occasionally Liam's asleep before I say "amen."

We pray for all of our family members by name, for struggles they're having, for happy things they're celebrating. We say thank you for school, neighborhood, friends - many by name - and church. We pray for the kids we support in other countries. We ask for safety for people traveling. We ask for help with problems. We ask to be filled with God's love and to behave like his children ought to. We acknowledge how great and awesome God is and thank him that he cares about us. Every night, pretty much the same stuff, over and over. On the rare night praying slips my mind, Liam's voice will call in panic, "Mom, you forgot to pray!"

In my 20s, I didn't pray much, other than the urgent "I'm sorry - get me out of this mess!" pleas. In my 30s, I began a more focused and consistent prayer life. Then my cousin's husband and my neighbor's son both became seriously ill and I prayed with everything I had. A dear neighbor and I began to meet together every week to pray for these and other concerns. Yet even with the prayers of many faithful people, both of these precious people died. Why didn't God answer the prayers of all these passionate people? Does praying make any difference? Can it save a person from dying?

I have friends and acquaintances who believe that with enough faith God can work through prayer to heal people. I'm not so sure. It's not that I doubt God can heal. I doubt what "enough faith" looks like. I doubt that this is what our praying is about.

At the beginning of the school year Liam would come home and tell me about another boy who would taunt him during recess, pinning his arms down so he couldn't get up. No one ever saw it apparently and he didn't want to tell the teacher. The second and third time it happened it occurred to me that we should pray for the boy those nights. We prayed that Liam would find good words to use in the situation and that the boy would have a change of heart and be kind. The next day I asked Liam about recess and whether the boy bothered him. "No," he shrugged. "He was really nice to me today."

I asked Liam what he thought happened. He didn't know but thought maybe the boy's mom had started praying with him. I love that perspective. God didn't just step in and make a kid nice because we asked him (which I still don't doubt he could do); he worked in a kid's heart because the kid's mom prayed with him and asked God to help her son be kind and loving and a good friend.

As a parent, I have so little control over what happens to my kids. I could let that terrify me and break my heart. Instead, I give those worries and troubles to God. I pray over them and for them and with them. I know that doesn't guaranty they won't get sick or hurt or picked on. It doesn't ensure they'll make wise choices or stay out of trouble. It doesn't promise good dreams. But I know that I have done the best and the most I can do. I have trusted them to one I believe loves them even more than me. I have shown them where to leave their troubles and who to send their thanks. And I'll do it again and again every day no matter what. Because how prayer works, I have no idea. I just know it does.

If you don't pray with your kids and are curious about it, I highly recommend the NPR radio program The Spirituality of Parenting. Awesome insights into children and why prayer is so important for them.

a little girl and some pj pants

When I was young and single, I spent many a weekend with my cousin Kathryn. Since I lived in a flat in her town, with two kittens and a closet full of extremely cool dress-up clothes (or so she thought), and she lived with three older brothers and zero kittens, she happily came for sleepovers whenever she could. Being that I am the eldest of 20 cousins and she is the youngest, one might imagine that I could have given birth to this girl. And one would be right. There were days when I wished I had. In fact, I loved to take Kathryn out to eat or to the video store and imagine that people thought she was my daughter. She was adorable and funny and I was quite sure that I must have been the absolute coolest mom in town.

Now, incredibly, 12 years later, I have a six year old of my own and little Kathryn has graduated high school and is off on grand grown-up adventures. This weekend she leaves for a 9-month stint working with street kids in Cape Town, South Africa, getting a way broader view of the world and God's love in action. In addition to adorable and funny, she is now incredibly awesome. I am very proud of my pseudo-daughter.

For Kathryn's high school graduation I wanted to make her something special that she could take with her on her trip. Earlier this year when our grandma died - the grandma that she and I both spent countless hours with, including many nights of sleepovers - I took a small pile of sheets when my aunts and I cleaned out her closet. Instead of using the sheets for their intended purpose, I had an idea of a couple ways I could remake them. One was as pajama pants.


I found a pattern with a wide-bottom leg (McCall's 5989) and cut into the pair that we granddaughters remember so well from our cherished nights in the guest room. I left the groovy wide, white top edge of these funky blue sheets as the bottom of the legs, which made them extra cute. I've already duplicated the idea with two other top sheets for another special cousin and my sister. Someday maybe I'll make some for myself.

For the next nine months, though, I'll be thinking about the little girl with the blue pj pants. I'll be praying that she always remembers where she came from, how much love goes with her and what a cool thing it is to be original. Although I'd still find it amazing to be her mom, I feel lucky just to be her friend. Sweet dreams, Kathryn. We'll miss you!

10 things

Over the last few days school has been out, hours have been unstructured, family time has been intentional and fun, and I have heard Liam declare more than once, "This is the best day of my life!" Each time it's given me pause to think about how the simplest, everyday things make our lives the richest. We just have to be present for them. Here are 10 things that have made these past few days some of the best days of our lives.


10. Watching the cement truck pour our new front steps.

9. Apple cake, applesauce, apple quesadilla and a slice of the world's best apple pie.


8. Time to practice more than piano.

7. Two hours of the funniest and most adorable game of 20 questions, keeping car time from becoming boring time.


6. Yummy little boy necks.


5. Picking out pumpkins before eating warm apple cider donuts.

4. Sibling and cousin love. How easily and abundantly it flows.


3. Proudly displaying original LEGO designs after having uninterrupted time to build them.


2. The lake at every season. And the thrill it brings every time we see it.

1. Adding our first nephew/boy cousin and getting to hold him just hours after his arrival. Luke Torrey, we're so glad you're here!

weekday morning muffins

I have struggled with the breakfast battle for months. The "What do you want to eat?" question leads to frustration for my eaters who usually want something I am not prepared to offer. So lately I haven't been giving a choice, which sometimes gets grumbles, but is so much easier and quicker for all. One of the weekly specials includes muffins, which I can whip up blind in just over 20 minutes start to finish (with only 5 minutes or so of hands-on time). They are adapted from the Mountain Biker's Banana Muffins recipe from Simply Colorado, a healthy cookbook that once belonged to my ever-nutritious grandma. Add a side of homemade applesauce and this fresh-baked breakfast would make her proud.

Quick and Healthy Banana Blueberry Muffins

3/4 c. unbleached white flour
3/4 c. whole wheat flour
1 t. baking soda
1/4 t. salt
1/3 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. almond milk (or cow's)
1/3 c. olive oil
1 t. vanilla
1 egg
1 large banana, mashed
1/2 c. fresh or frozen blueberries

Stir together dry ingredients in mixing bowl. In small bowl or large measuring cup, whisk milk, oil, vanilla and egg. Add wet ingredients to dry along with banana. Stir until just mixed. Gently stir in blueberries. Cook in sprayed muffin tins at 375 for 15 minutes. (Also great topped with maple nut granola as last step before baking.) Makes 12 smallish muffins, which will probably be polished off in less time than it takes to make them.

a good thing isn't necessarily a right thing

At a baby shower this afternoon my cousin did a little reflection for the mom-to-be on the top ten things she has learned in her 13 years of mothering. It was both funny and poignant and, quite honestly, I needed to hear a lot of it. One item that stood out was how there are so many good things we and our kids can be doing, but that doesn't mean they are the right things.

This last month I have been doing a lot of good things. I have been working like crazy to help make money for my family. I have been volunteering for things at school and at church. I have been running my Elliott to preschool and therapy after therapy. I have been making gifts and planning events. It's all good and yet I'm disappointing people I love. I'm putting a whole bunch of busyness and stuff before the things that really matter to me: my writing, my mental health, my friends, my family and God.

So, I'm going to start dumping some good things by giving up a big job, which is a big thing for me. I'm good at it and I like the team I work with and the money. But it sucks up my time and my energy and swallows my life. It's a painful release for a girl who never says no. I just need to keep reminding myself what I'm missing:

:: Long Monopoly games with a six year old
:: A bigger glimpse of fall than what I can see out the coffee shop or car window
:: Trips to the park with a thrilled three year old
:: A somewhat tidier house
:: A longer time to read than one minute before falling to sleep at midnight
:: Bread baking in the oven (oh, how I miss this!)
:: Progress on a year-old sweater project that I so want to wear this winter
:: Yoga
:: Deep thoughts in a quiet mind
:: Date nights and long conversation with the guy who picks up the slack
:: The ability to keep commitments with friends who still forgive me for canceling
:: Time to write
:: Time to pray

Another cousin of mine who is also on a mission to stop trying to do it all, linked me to this great piece by Anne Lamott about finding time to create a rich life. How incredibly ironic that I run around filling up my time in order to live richly when, in fact, a rich life requires empty hours of quiet time. It's going to be difficult, but it's high time I found some.