Seriously.
Oh football season, how I've missed you!
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Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Book Review: The Last Word
Another long overdue book review. I finished this in May of 2009. Here's my thoughts from Goodreads that I'd saved as a blog post over a year ago.
Whatever you may think of his works on justification, Wright certainly has written much that benefits believers, including his more popular works such as his For Everyone commentary series. This particular book is about the authority of Scripture and is intended for the non-academic.
The Last Word: Beyond the Bible Wars to a New Understanding of the Authority of Scripture by N.T. Wright
Fantastic overview of the place of scripture in the life of the church. Wright examines the phrase "the authority of scripture" and details how it is more about the relationship of the Father as revealed in the Son working through the Spirit to communicate and complete His work in the world than it is about oft misunderstood words like inerrancy and infallibility. Wright touches on recent scholarship as well as plenty of historical context and church history. I learned that to the Reformers, a "literal" reading meant the original literary intent of the text (metaphorical, pastoral, narrative, etc.) rather than what we think of today when we speak of "reading the Bible literally" and all the negative associations. Wright encourages his readers to encounter scripture holistically, in its context and proper framework, by hearing the word proclaimed in and through the church, and encourages liturgical efforts while not downplaying the importance of personal study.
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Whatever you may think of his works on justification, Wright certainly has written much that benefits believers, including his more popular works such as his For Everyone commentary series. This particular book is about the authority of Scripture and is intended for the non-academic.
The Last Word: Beyond the Bible Wars to a New Understanding of the Authority of Scripture by N.T. WrightFantastic overview of the place of scripture in the life of the church. Wright examines the phrase "the authority of scripture" and details how it is more about the relationship of the Father as revealed in the Son working through the Spirit to communicate and complete His work in the world than it is about oft misunderstood words like inerrancy and infallibility. Wright touches on recent scholarship as well as plenty of historical context and church history. I learned that to the Reformers, a "literal" reading meant the original literary intent of the text (metaphorical, pastoral, narrative, etc.) rather than what we think of today when we speak of "reading the Bible literally" and all the negative associations. Wright encourages his readers to encounter scripture holistically, in its context and proper framework, by hearing the word proclaimed in and through the church, and encourages liturgical efforts while not downplaying the importance of personal study.
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Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hutchmoot Explained. Mostly.
This past weekend we drove to Nashville for an event called Hutchmoot.
Why? Well, let's flashback a bit. About nine years ago I had the privilege to attend a summer program at St. John's College in Oxford, England. The college just happens to be located across the street from The Eagle and Child (a.k.a. The Bird and Baby), a local pub. If you are a C.S. Lewis fan, you might recognize the name. Lewis and his friends, including J.R.R. Tolkien (a.k.a. The Inklings), would meet weekly in a back room of The Eagle and Child to discuss their writings and shared interests. The room where they met was called The Rabbit Room. (I'm going somewhere with this, trust me.)
Flash forward to the present day. Andrew Peterson, the singer/songwriter/author, has created an online community to discuss art and music and literature. In light of his appreciation for C.S. Lewis, he calls it The Rabbit Room.
A few months ago, Andrew and his brother Pete invited some people to a real-life version of what has become a thriving online community. They called it Hutchmoot -- a hutch being a place where rabbits congregate and moot an Old English word for an assembly. Hence, a gathering of folks associated with The Rabbit Room would be called a Hutchmoot*. Get it? Yeah, it's geeky. But we roll that way.
At Hutchmoot, we had good company and good conversation. We listened to exceptional music and profound thoughts from Andrew Peterson and other Square Pegs familiar 'round these parts, like Eric Peters and Randall Goodgame. We ate excellent food prepared lovingly and with care. We enjoyed humorous LOST references, The Far Side comics, discussions about the nature of art, and we basically walked around in awe all weekend that no one else thought we were in the least bit odd. We most definitely "got our nerd on" and "geeked out" --two phrases we heard oft repeated from the speakers-- over characters like Sam Gamgee and the works of an author named Walter Wangerin, Jr. We got to hear Mr. Wangerin speak. I'm still reeling from that last one.
More to come, more to come, but I need sleep to continue processing.
*A miniature robin told me that Clay Clarkson, the author, is the one who came up with the name Hutchmoot. Not only do I appreciate he and his wife's books on parenting and motherhood, but he just shot up on my coolness meter like a gazillion points. Plus, his daughter Sarah came and spoke at the event. She's a writer and a fellow kindred spirit who is a huge fan of Anne of Green Gables. I liked her already.
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Why? Well, let's flashback a bit. About nine years ago I had the privilege to attend a summer program at St. John's College in Oxford, England. The college just happens to be located across the street from The Eagle and Child (a.k.a. The Bird and Baby), a local pub. If you are a C.S. Lewis fan, you might recognize the name. Lewis and his friends, including J.R.R. Tolkien (a.k.a. The Inklings), would meet weekly in a back room of The Eagle and Child to discuss their writings and shared interests. The room where they met was called The Rabbit Room. (I'm going somewhere with this, trust me.)
Flash forward to the present day. Andrew Peterson, the singer/songwriter/author, has created an online community to discuss art and music and literature. In light of his appreciation for C.S. Lewis, he calls it The Rabbit Room.
A few months ago, Andrew and his brother Pete invited some people to a real-life version of what has become a thriving online community. They called it Hutchmoot -- a hutch being a place where rabbits congregate and moot an Old English word for an assembly. Hence, a gathering of folks associated with The Rabbit Room would be called a Hutchmoot*. Get it? Yeah, it's geeky. But we roll that way.
At Hutchmoot, we had good company and good conversation. We listened to exceptional music and profound thoughts from Andrew Peterson and other Square Pegs familiar 'round these parts, like Eric Peters and Randall Goodgame. We ate excellent food prepared lovingly and with care. We enjoyed humorous LOST references, The Far Side comics, discussions about the nature of art, and we basically walked around in awe all weekend that no one else thought we were in the least bit odd. We most definitely "got our nerd on" and "geeked out" --two phrases we heard oft repeated from the speakers-- over characters like Sam Gamgee and the works of an author named Walter Wangerin, Jr. We got to hear Mr. Wangerin speak. I'm still reeling from that last one.
More to come, more to come, but I need sleep to continue processing.
*A miniature robin told me that Clay Clarkson, the author, is the one who came up with the name Hutchmoot. Not only do I appreciate he and his wife's books on parenting and motherhood, but he just shot up on my coolness meter like a gazillion points. Plus, his daughter Sarah came and spoke at the event. She's a writer and a fellow kindred spirit who is a huge fan of Anne of Green Gables. I liked her already.
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Tuesday, July 27, 2010
What We Did This Summer
Travelers and wanderers are we, with little time to reflect. Our summer has been surprisingly busy, but I kind of like it that way. Otherwise, I might get stuck inside, trapped by a heat-induced malaise. This way was much more fun. Here's a quick rundown of some highlights from the last two months.
Over Memorial Day weekend, we dogsat for some friends. The boys LOVED playing with Sam, but we realized we are not quite ready for pet ownership yet. Too much maintenance required.
One of my good friends and fellow mom of boys, Sindhu Giedd, played a concert of some original songs at a very unique venue. I went with my friend Jessica, who originally introduced me to Sindhu, to hear her play late one Saturday evening. I was transported instantly back to my days of following indie musicians around the Southeast and going to concerts in the most random places, but this one beat them all. On the third floor of a nondescript Dunwoody office building, the owner has created an attic listening space, complete with wood-paneled ceilings, a bar area, silent "phone booths" for checking messages, and an entrance door that looks like you've stumbled upon a London underground pub. And hearing my friend pour her heart out to God through song was a great blessing. The best were her renditions of Psalms and other Scriptures set to her own original music with both classical and Indian indfluences.
The Three Mom-keteers:
Jacob attended VBS for the first time at our church back at the beginning of June. He still requests to play and sing the theme song, "God is my Hero." It's funny, though, when he sings the part that spells out "H-E-R-O," because he says "Itch-E-R-O" which we find hilarious.
He has worn this VBS shirt at least once a week since he received it:
The second weekend of June we traveled to Alabama for Gaines' family reunion. Every year we drive to McCalla and set up a picnic across the road from the family cemetery. I kid you not. Gaines says he and his cousins used to play games among the gravestones. This year I was especially proud because Gaines gave the message during the memorial service. Christ and the Gospel were loudly proclaimed. You can never hear too many talks about grace, I think. (There's a recording of it somewhere, I hope.) :) I was glad his sermon was short and to the point, as well, because it was HOT out there.
See? H-O-T.
Ethan armed himself with multiple fluids. Smart boy:
Gaines and his parents, plus Ethan. Three generations of Redds:
June was also a month of birthdays! We celebrated my 30th with a night out to see Toy Story 3 and dinner at a local Cuban place. We went to at least 3 child birthday parties that I remember, just within a week: Annabel Crane, Samuel Suber, and Scarlett Vaughan (If you ask Jacob who his girlfriend is, he answers "Scarlett," though possibly only because she's the "girl" friend we play with most often. We know a lot of boys.)
We enjoyed much cake:
Jacob spent an entire week away from us, first with Gaines' parents and then with mine down in Geneva. I know he had a blast and I'm thankful he had that time with them, but he was sorely missed. I don't know how to be a parent to only one anymore! Ethan and I got some quality time, though. And when we drove to Montgomery to pick up Jacob, my parents took me out for Chinese and Gaines' family surprised me with a cake! And a cookie in a skillet! Yum!
In between the travelling, we had playdates and picnics and mornings at various local pools. We have not been idle, though we have enjoyed our share of lazy days spent soaking our feet in a baby pool or running under a sprinkler. It's what summer should be, I think. I plan to enjoy these days as much as I can, despite the 100 degree heat indexes we've been having lately.
Splashpad! But wait, is that a diaper leak?! This photo cracks me up.
One of our favorite local parks:
On a family ice cream date:
Ethan has become adept at using a spoon:
For the fourth of July, we drove down to Montgomery again and watched the fireworks from this Seaside-like place out in the middle of some pasture land near Pike Road. They've created a little town with a post office and a town square and are building a school. It's surreal, set amidst these beautiful lakes. It was a peaceful, perfect evening with family. (I won't mention the experiences we had taking Jacob to go potty. Outside. In the dark.)
Watching "firecracks" with Uncle Mike.
Speaking of potty-going, our one big accomplishment this summer is that Jacob is now potty-trained! Completely! (Insert potty dance!) He stays dry all day in his big-boy underwear (with the rare exception) and refuses to wear a Pull-Up at night -- and he stays dry then, too! Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night, but usually he sleeps just fine and then goes in the morning.
We have a big kid now!
The boys and I took two short trips without Daddy this past month. We missed him greatly, and look forward to vacationing with him in August. Still, it was great to visit my hometown for a few days and see some old friends. Then, last week, I drove us to Birmingham for two nights to visit with Gaines' grandmother. While there, we also got to see my friend Kami and her boys (before her third arrives!) at the McWane Center. On the way back, we stopped by the home of my college friend Mary Virginia and her adorable kids. If we ever get the chance to live in Birmingham again, I'd do it in a heartbeat. It's just the right size.
This summer so far has been full of celebrations, but we were sad to say goodbye to some dear friends, the Cranes, who are moving out of the big city into small-town life in the Deeper South. I have more I wish to say devoted just to them, but for now I'll wish them well in their new life in Mississippi, and if they ever want to drop off Annabel to stay with us again, we wouldn't complain. :)
We're looking forward to a rare weekend at home and a visit from my mom. August is full of family travels, a trip to the lake, a wedding, and a most anticipated kid-free anniversary adventure in Nashville. Life is good.
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The Three Mom-keteers:
He has worn this VBS shirt at least once a week since he received it:
See? H-O-T.
Ethan armed himself with multiple fluids. Smart boy:
Gaines and his parents, plus Ethan. Three generations of Redds:
We enjoyed much cake:
Splashpad! But wait, is that a diaper leak?! This photo cracks me up.
One of our favorite local parks:
On a family ice cream date:
Ethan has become adept at using a spoon:
Watching "firecracks" with Uncle Mike.
We have a big kid now!
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Friday, July 23, 2010
World's Strongest Beer?
The "End of History" is upon us, and it's inside a stuffed squirrel.
I imagine the creative process went something like this:
110 proof beer? Check. Taxidermy? Check. Francis Fukuyama reference? Check.
Be sure to watch this video released by the brewery.
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I imagine the creative process went something like this:
110 proof beer? Check. Taxidermy? Check. Francis Fukuyama reference? Check.
Be sure to watch this video released by the brewery.
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Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Mystery
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Brothers
Both of my boys are hilarious. I love that they are close enough together to be friends and playmates. It's so funny to see their personalities as they run around and interact with each other.
Ethan likes to try new things and is never hesitant to dive into an unfamiliar situation (unless it is a strange dog who wants to be petted.) He frequently wanders off the driveway, off the sidewalk at the park toward the woods, and will quickly get away from me in public places. (This is not always a desired trait.) He is not shy, that one. At the same age Jacob was making sure all the cabinet doors were closed when we left the kitchen, Ethan is opening them up to climb inside. He laughs constantly at his older brother's antics and will eat almost anything we put in front of him, except sandwiches. He is not quite verbal yet, but he points and grunts and signs to make his will known. And he usually gets what he wants. Mostly shoes and bananas. And he has started putting his hands together when we pray or say a blessing before meals!
Jacob, unlike his brother, has a unique way of staying in the lines. He has a routine and a practiced way of doing things. Everything must be done the RIGHT way (which really just means his way). At the park, when Ethan and I will walk across the grass in the most direct route to the swings, Jacob will run "as fast as he can" on the sidewalk, following it as it curves around the playground, taking him a further distance to get to his destination. We have to get him to STOP pressing the blinking light on his toothbrush or he would still be there now, brushing away, just because he likes to brush his teeth. And wash his hands. Repeatedly. He also likes the clean a little too much, so we can't use it as punishment. Somehow, though, all these little rituals translate into an abundant imagination and creativity. At the water park, the joy and abandon he showed when he started playing was delightful! He was literally dancing and skipping through the water and making up his own games. He told me afterward that he was pretending to be a racecar in the water. And at dinner tonight, he brought along his buddies "Maff" and "Daff" (a California raisin and a miniature sock monkey) who we had not met in the flesh until this evening -- I'd always assumed they were purely inivisible friends!
Though my little guys have their moments (that whole learning to share thing is difficult right now), they can be the sweetest boys at times. When Ethan leans in to give Jacob a big kiss goodnight, or Jacob brings Ethan a diaper or a lost sippy cup or a missing toy, I just want to snatch them both up forever into a giant hug. Two of my favorite brother moments were caught by the camera the last two months, and I wanted to share them here.
Ethan's first popsicle break one hot afternoon in May:
Jacob teaching Ethan how to slide at the park on Friday afternoon:
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Ethan likes to try new things and is never hesitant to dive into an unfamiliar situation (unless it is a strange dog who wants to be petted.) He frequently wanders off the driveway, off the sidewalk at the park toward the woods, and will quickly get away from me in public places. (This is not always a desired trait.) He is not shy, that one. At the same age Jacob was making sure all the cabinet doors were closed when we left the kitchen, Ethan is opening them up to climb inside. He laughs constantly at his older brother's antics and will eat almost anything we put in front of him, except sandwiches. He is not quite verbal yet, but he points and grunts and signs to make his will known. And he usually gets what he wants. Mostly shoes and bananas. And he has started putting his hands together when we pray or say a blessing before meals!
Jacob, unlike his brother, has a unique way of staying in the lines. He has a routine and a practiced way of doing things. Everything must be done the RIGHT way (which really just means his way). At the park, when Ethan and I will walk across the grass in the most direct route to the swings, Jacob will run "as fast as he can" on the sidewalk, following it as it curves around the playground, taking him a further distance to get to his destination. We have to get him to STOP pressing the blinking light on his toothbrush or he would still be there now, brushing away, just because he likes to brush his teeth. And wash his hands. Repeatedly. He also likes the clean a little too much, so we can't use it as punishment. Somehow, though, all these little rituals translate into an abundant imagination and creativity. At the water park, the joy and abandon he showed when he started playing was delightful! He was literally dancing and skipping through the water and making up his own games. He told me afterward that he was pretending to be a racecar in the water. And at dinner tonight, he brought along his buddies "Maff" and "Daff" (a California raisin and a miniature sock monkey) who we had not met in the flesh until this evening -- I'd always assumed they were purely inivisible friends!
Though my little guys have their moments (that whole learning to share thing is difficult right now), they can be the sweetest boys at times. When Ethan leans in to give Jacob a big kiss goodnight, or Jacob brings Ethan a diaper or a lost sippy cup or a missing toy, I just want to snatch them both up forever into a giant hug. Two of my favorite brother moments were caught by the camera the last two months, and I wanted to share them here.
Ethan's first popsicle break one hot afternoon in May:
Jacob teaching Ethan how to slide at the park on Friday afternoon:
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Friday, June 25, 2010
Proofreading
Motherhood, and parenting in general, I think, is like a series of edits. You revise and reread, and revise again, always trying new tactics, new approaches to a topic. You could keep going on forever, continually revising, seeking perfection. But one day you realize that your time for making changes and forming your words into something meaningful is over. You have to let them go. Your words live on, of course, and sometimes take on a new life of their own in the hands of others. But they are still yours. And always will be.
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Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Perfect Park
For years it has eluded me. The perfect park. To be honest, we do live in an area with an abundance of parks -- we even have one at the swim/tennis center in our neighborhood, plus two that I know of within a few minutes drive. There's a park with lots of activity centers and mazes of slides and climbing structures, all relatively new. One park has a nature-ish area near a river with a small creek, though it has been under construction since last year's floods. Another park within driving distance is right beside an airport runway. Still, I never found one that I wanted to visit every day. Until now.
A nearby city publishes a weekly paper which keeps me up on happenings in the community. This week there was an article on how some of the former county parks have recently been bought by the city. And they listed a small park that is less than 2 miles away from us that I had never heard about, though I've driven by the street a million times. So, Jacob and Ethan and I went on an adventure on Wednesday and when we discovered it, we had so much fun that we came back today and brought Gaines with us.
Top Ten Reasons I Love The Perfect Park
1. It's within a reasonable driving distance. Fairly short, actually. It's even closer to us than our former first choice for a park.
2. It is SHADY. There are trees all around the playground area, a nice shaded pavilion, and very quick access to a wooded area with some walking trails. Even in the middle of a 90-degree day we never felt like we were in the blazing sun. One metal slide got hot, but the rest were plastic.
3. Nature abounds. It feels very wooded and there is no artificial ground cover. For me, that used to be a drawback, but now that my two are walking around, I love that they can get dirty and have fun. Plus, we love walking on a well-worn path through residential woods. It's not a strenuous hike, but I feel like we get some exercise and enjoy being outdoors without getting too much sun.
4. It is in a neighborhood. Even when it was just me, the boys, and a lone tennis player in the middle of the day I didn't feel like I was secluded. There are houses directly across the street and you can see them through the woods. It fits my comfort level, since I can let the boys play without hovering.
5. It's just the right size, slightly enclosed, but with an open feel. There are only two "stations" and they are close together. Ethan can climb and slide ALL BY HIMSELF on one set and I can see Jacob sliding on the big slide nearby. One of our regular parks is just too spread out -- if one kid wanders off in a different direction I feel like I might lose the other one, especially on crowded park days.
6. The park is not crowded. The days I've been there this week, we've seen maybe one or two families (some from the neighborhood--who walked there!) but not an entire horde of summer children. The park isn't flashy or well-known enough for that. It's our hidden gem!
7. One of my favorite things -- it has a zipline! (Ok, well, sort of. It has one of those metal bars that slides across while you hang from it.) Jacob loves it. And so do I! Maybe if I come enough I can get work on my arm muscles. I'm such a weakling I can't even cross the monkey bars anymore.
8. Stroller access is excellent, but not intrusive. You can bring your stroller close to the action while staying on the sideway and it doesn't get lost admid too many play areas. This is a well-designed small park.
9. The equipment is decidedly old-school. I love it! The monkey bars are high and there are wooden platforms. It's "dangerous" enough so kids can explore and climb and yet I feel like Jacob is safer there than on some of the newer configurations. Some helicopter mom might deem it unsafe, but it's just the way I like it.
10. Family friendly. Today, since Gaines had the day off from both work and school, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch near a guy who was working "from home" with a laptop. A dad from the neighborhood walked his two kids to the park while we were there. And when we took our short hike on the nature trail, we left our cooler on the picnic table bench. It was still there when we returned, of course.
There might be one drawback -- no facilities. The first day we were there we met a mom and her young son leaving for that very reason. (That's not a problem for Jacob, though, apparently, since there are an abundance of trees not far off the wooded path(!), but I can see how if you don't plan well it could be an issue for little girls or pregnant women. Or me, if I drink too much water.)
One thing I didn't understand, though. Why did the house directly across the street have this giant new modern jungle gym in their backyard that was VISIBLE from the park?! I mean, seriously, is the public park not good enough for your little darlings? They can't cross the street to play? They might get too dirty? Now, I would love to have something like that in my own backyard, of course, but if I lived directly across the street from a place like this? I just don't know. I understand the desire to have a place to play that you can see from the kitchen window and that is completely enclosed and private. Still, I defend "my newly discovered park" as the perfect public play area. And if I lived in that house across the street, (once my kids were old enough) I'd send them across the street to play, invite some neighborhood kids, and watch from my front window. Pretty soon you'll be calling me a "free range parent". Perhaps I'm just an old-fashioned park lover.
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A nearby city publishes a weekly paper which keeps me up on happenings in the community. This week there was an article on how some of the former county parks have recently been bought by the city. And they listed a small park that is less than 2 miles away from us that I had never heard about, though I've driven by the street a million times. So, Jacob and Ethan and I went on an adventure on Wednesday and when we discovered it, we had so much fun that we came back today and brought Gaines with us.
Top Ten Reasons I Love The Perfect Park
1. It's within a reasonable driving distance. Fairly short, actually. It's even closer to us than our former first choice for a park.
2. It is SHADY. There are trees all around the playground area, a nice shaded pavilion, and very quick access to a wooded area with some walking trails. Even in the middle of a 90-degree day we never felt like we were in the blazing sun. One metal slide got hot, but the rest were plastic.
3. Nature abounds. It feels very wooded and there is no artificial ground cover. For me, that used to be a drawback, but now that my two are walking around, I love that they can get dirty and have fun. Plus, we love walking on a well-worn path through residential woods. It's not a strenuous hike, but I feel like we get some exercise and enjoy being outdoors without getting too much sun.
4. It is in a neighborhood. Even when it was just me, the boys, and a lone tennis player in the middle of the day I didn't feel like I was secluded. There are houses directly across the street and you can see them through the woods. It fits my comfort level, since I can let the boys play without hovering.
5. It's just the right size, slightly enclosed, but with an open feel. There are only two "stations" and they are close together. Ethan can climb and slide ALL BY HIMSELF on one set and I can see Jacob sliding on the big slide nearby. One of our regular parks is just too spread out -- if one kid wanders off in a different direction I feel like I might lose the other one, especially on crowded park days.
6. The park is not crowded. The days I've been there this week, we've seen maybe one or two families (some from the neighborhood--who walked there!) but not an entire horde of summer children. The park isn't flashy or well-known enough for that. It's our hidden gem!
7. One of my favorite things -- it has a zipline! (Ok, well, sort of. It has one of those metal bars that slides across while you hang from it.) Jacob loves it. And so do I! Maybe if I come enough I can get work on my arm muscles. I'm such a weakling I can't even cross the monkey bars anymore.
8. Stroller access is excellent, but not intrusive. You can bring your stroller close to the action while staying on the sideway and it doesn't get lost admid too many play areas. This is a well-designed small park.
9. The equipment is decidedly old-school. I love it! The monkey bars are high and there are wooden platforms. It's "dangerous" enough so kids can explore and climb and yet I feel like Jacob is safer there than on some of the newer configurations. Some helicopter mom might deem it unsafe, but it's just the way I like it.
10. Family friendly. Today, since Gaines had the day off from both work and school, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch near a guy who was working "from home" with a laptop. A dad from the neighborhood walked his two kids to the park while we were there. And when we took our short hike on the nature trail, we left our cooler on the picnic table bench. It was still there when we returned, of course.
There might be one drawback -- no facilities. The first day we were there we met a mom and her young son leaving for that very reason. (That's not a problem for Jacob, though, apparently, since there are an abundance of trees not far off the wooded path(!), but I can see how if you don't plan well it could be an issue for little girls or pregnant women. Or me, if I drink too much water.)
One thing I didn't understand, though. Why did the house directly across the street have this giant new modern jungle gym in their backyard that was VISIBLE from the park?! I mean, seriously, is the public park not good enough for your little darlings? They can't cross the street to play? They might get too dirty? Now, I would love to have something like that in my own backyard, of course, but if I lived directly across the street from a place like this? I just don't know. I understand the desire to have a place to play that you can see from the kitchen window and that is completely enclosed and private. Still, I defend "my newly discovered park" as the perfect public play area. And if I lived in that house across the street, (once my kids were old enough) I'd send them across the street to play, invite some neighborhood kids, and watch from my front window. Pretty soon you'll be calling me a "free range parent". Perhaps I'm just an old-fashioned park lover.
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Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Grape Juice
The following involves frugality, theology, and good music. Not a bad combination, eh?
My task for today was to buy grape juice for Sunday's communion at church. Communion at our church happens quarterly and monthly (depending on the service), though we wouldn't mind one bit if we celebrated every week. :) Since Gaines' current elder duties include Worship Committee, that means planning for communion, which means checking the supply of bread and wine*, which means buying more, and as the shopper in the household, the task really fell to me. Though you should know by now that I actually had fun.
*Yeah, yeah, so it's just grape juice. I have no problem with wine, myself. But that's a conversation for another day.
With a little extra effort on my part, I picked up a 64oz bottle of Welch's for all of nine cents. Here's how I did it:
1. Check the sale pages. Brand name grape juice 2/$6 at CVS.
2. Print out a coupon from the Welch's website for $1 off.
3. Take along 2 kids and 2 Extra Care Bucks (I just happened to have).
4. Buy grape juice and only grape juice. No snacks, toys, or sunglasses!
5. Combine coupon and ECB's and pay only 9 cents out of my pocketbook.
6. Get an extra $1 ECB back because I've been using my Green Bag Tag. Woot!
The anticipation of the Lord's Supper has gotten me thinking about my favorite songs and hymns concerning the Eucharist. Either these are songs appropriate to sing after partaking (it is a celebration, after all!) or songs perhaps not fit for worship, but the lyrics still speak to some aspect of the supper.
Take to the World
Arise, My Soul, Arise (Indelible Grace Version)
A New Law
Both of Us'll Feel The Blast
These are some of my favorites. What are yours?
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My task for today was to buy grape juice for Sunday's communion at church. Communion at our church happens quarterly and monthly (depending on the service), though we wouldn't mind one bit if we celebrated every week. :) Since Gaines' current elder duties include Worship Committee, that means planning for communion, which means checking the supply of bread and wine*, which means buying more, and as the shopper in the household, the task really fell to me. Though you should know by now that I actually had fun.
*Yeah, yeah, so it's just grape juice. I have no problem with wine, myself. But that's a conversation for another day.
With a little extra effort on my part, I picked up a 64oz bottle of Welch's for all of nine cents. Here's how I did it:
1. Check the sale pages. Brand name grape juice 2/$6 at CVS.
2. Print out a coupon from the Welch's website for $1 off.
3. Take along 2 kids and 2 Extra Care Bucks (I just happened to have).
4. Buy grape juice and only grape juice. No snacks, toys, or sunglasses!
5. Combine coupon and ECB's and pay only 9 cents out of my pocketbook.
6. Get an extra $1 ECB back because I've been using my Green Bag Tag. Woot!
The anticipation of the Lord's Supper has gotten me thinking about my favorite songs and hymns concerning the Eucharist. Either these are songs appropriate to sing after partaking (it is a celebration, after all!) or songs perhaps not fit for worship, but the lyrics still speak to some aspect of the supper.
"Go in peace to love and to serve
Let your ears ring long with what you have heard
May the bread on your tongue
Leave a trail of crumbs
To lead the hungry back to the place that you are from"
"Arise, my soul, arise,
shake off your guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice,
in my behalf appears;
Before the throne my Surety stands,
Before the throne my Surety stands,
My name is written on His hands."
"I don’t wanna know if the answers aren’t easy
So just bring it down from the mountain to me
I want a new law
I want a new law
Just give me that new law
And don’t teach me about moderation and liberty
I prefer a shot of grape juice
And don’t teach me about loving my enemies
And don’t teach me how to listen to the Spirit
No, just give me a new law."
"I hope we sit together when Jesus serves the wine
So I can look into your eyes when I taste it the first time
And I know there's no secrets when you're sitting at that table
But I believe we'll smile real knowingly when we read the label
And it says "passion sacrificed to keep from going crazy."
We'll tip our glasses to the Host who used to look so hazy
And drink it down all sweet and slow and slip inside His mind
And realize as it goes down- this is communion wine."
These are some of my favorites. What are yours?
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Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion
A childhood friend of mine (who posts hilarious things about her twin girls) is having a contest with a buddy to blog something every day during the summer. Since yesterday was the first day of summer, I sort of missed out on that. But I do like the idea of blogging more regularly, so let's see if I can go most of the summer blogging every day.
Here's something I learned about this afternoon (again, I'm late to the game): Rayovac has a giveaway for 30 days this summer where you can win great prizes like gift cards and camping gear. Full disclosure: "The first 99 bloggers to promote the Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion won a prize package from Rayovac."
So, I'm going for a prize package. But hey, I figure you, our half-dozen loyal readers might appreciate the chance to enter as well!
You just visit the Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion site each day and answer a question.
Today's was: "13 millions Americans go camping each year. What is your camping style? Backyard, adventurous, roughing it?"
The actual entry is limited to 25 words, but I thought I would indulge here and give you a short history of my relationship with camping.
As a kid, I'm not sure we ever went camping as a family. Fishing, yes. Trips to the beach, yes. There was an old cabin down by the bay where the "boys" used to stay when we went to Phillips Inlet, but I don't remember if I actually spent the night there. The women and we kids would always stay across the water at a condo. (Cheaters!)
I remember setting up a tent in the backyard once or twice, and I of course had access to woods and a creek behind our house. I might have spent the night in my tree house on one occasion (though I could be making that up). I vaguely remember sleeping in my oversized outdoor dollhouse. But it had electricity and insulation, so that seems like it wouldn't count. (I'll tell you about that someday. It was cool!)
As a young adult, I still loved the outdoors. In college, I worked at a camp for two summers, but of course the bunks did have electricity and running water. I remember actually going camping once or twice with some friends in places around Birmingham and once out in Texas. Though camping in a field in December in below freezing temperatures was not wise. We should've stayed in the barn.
Here's proof that I once camped out and slept under the night sky:
I've often wondered what became of that tent -- it's probably in storage somewhere along with my parents' things.
Even if I didn't get to go camping often, I always liked the idea. I enjoyed rapelling and hiking whenever I got the chance. When we got married, we registered for a few camping items. We ended up with a lantern, a gas camping stove, and some camping pillows. No sleeping bags. And, like I mentioned before, we had no idea what had happened to my tent. So, our plans languished. We got busy with apartment events and other activities and never made time for the great outdoors. I get jealous reading Kami's posts about their family camping trips.
Now, though, we have two boys and I would love to take them camping. Gaines was a boy scout, I enjoy being outdoors. This is plausible. We don't have much (read: any) gear, though. I think I sold or gave away the camping pillows a few moves back. I'm selling the camping stove on Craigslist as I type. At least we still have the lantern. So, if we win this contest at least we'll be ahead of the game with some supplies.
We do have one tent, featurning none other than Lightning McQueen, but so far it has only been set up indoors. I am getting to be really good at setting it up bleary-eyed at 7am, though.
Remember, you can enter the promotion that inspired my ramblings here: Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion
Faithful readers, what are your camping experiences like? I'm curious!
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Here's something I learned about this afternoon (again, I'm late to the game): Rayovac has a giveaway for 30 days this summer where you can win great prizes like gift cards and camping gear. Full disclosure: "The first 99 bloggers to promote the Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion won a prize package from Rayovac."
So, I'm going for a prize package. But hey, I figure you, our half-dozen loyal readers might appreciate the chance to enter as well!
You just visit the Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion site each day and answer a question.
Today's was: "13 millions Americans go camping each year. What is your camping style? Backyard, adventurous, roughing it?"
The actual entry is limited to 25 words, but I thought I would indulge here and give you a short history of my relationship with camping.
As a kid, I'm not sure we ever went camping as a family. Fishing, yes. Trips to the beach, yes. There was an old cabin down by the bay where the "boys" used to stay when we went to Phillips Inlet, but I don't remember if I actually spent the night there. The women and we kids would always stay across the water at a condo. (Cheaters!)
I remember setting up a tent in the backyard once or twice, and I of course had access to woods and a creek behind our house. I might have spent the night in my tree house on one occasion (though I could be making that up). I vaguely remember sleeping in my oversized outdoor dollhouse. But it had electricity and insulation, so that seems like it wouldn't count. (I'll tell you about that someday. It was cool!)
As a young adult, I still loved the outdoors. In college, I worked at a camp for two summers, but of course the bunks did have electricity and running water. I remember actually going camping once or twice with some friends in places around Birmingham and once out in Texas. Though camping in a field in December in below freezing temperatures was not wise. We should've stayed in the barn.
Here's proof that I once camped out and slept under the night sky:
I've often wondered what became of that tent -- it's probably in storage somewhere along with my parents' things.
Even if I didn't get to go camping often, I always liked the idea. I enjoyed rapelling and hiking whenever I got the chance. When we got married, we registered for a few camping items. We ended up with a lantern, a gas camping stove, and some camping pillows. No sleeping bags. And, like I mentioned before, we had no idea what had happened to my tent. So, our plans languished. We got busy with apartment events and other activities and never made time for the great outdoors. I get jealous reading Kami's posts about their family camping trips.
Now, though, we have two boys and I would love to take them camping. Gaines was a boy scout, I enjoy being outdoors. This is plausible. We don't have much (read: any) gear, though. I think I sold or gave away the camping pillows a few moves back. I'm selling the camping stove on Craigslist as I type. At least we still have the lantern. So, if we win this contest at least we'll be ahead of the game with some supplies.
We do have one tent, featurning none other than Lightning McQueen, but so far it has only been set up indoors. I am getting to be really good at setting it up bleary-eyed at 7am, though.
Remember, you can enter the promotion that inspired my ramblings here: Rayovac Powers Your Summer Promotion
Faithful readers, what are your camping experiences like? I'm curious!
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Friday, June 18, 2010
Thirty Years Ago Today
I was born.
Now, birth's always a miracle, but for me it was a special kind of miracle. You see, I was born early. Way early. Which makes it ironic that I am always late to things.
Here I am as a baby. (I'm not sure when this picture was taken, but since I was alow to crawl compared to normal timelines I'm going to guess about 10 months.)
I've heard the stories, of course, since even though I lived this miracle I wasn't self aware enough to remember all the details. So if I get some things mixed up, please excuse me. But I am sure of one thing: God has been at work in my life since he knit me together in my mother's womb. And he had tiny knitting needles.
My mom was put on bed rest about the time most moms find out the sex of the baby, around 20 weeks. Then, after two months of book reading and watching soap operas, her blood pressure suddenly spiked. She was at 28 weeks. Combine the preeclampsia with placenta previa, and off she went to the emergency room. My mom tells a better story of how they rushed her in an ambulance three hours to Birmingham from south Alabama on June 17th. All I know is that the next day, probably very early in the morning, they performed an emergency c-section and I came into the world on Wednesday, June 18, 1980. I was born at UAB hospital weighing only 1 pound, 8 ounces and was only eleven inches long, like a hefty sheet of paper.
My favorite photograph after my birth probably still sits on my dad's desk. It is a picture of his hand (or someone else's, I don't know), holding me, while I was connected to all manner of tubes and machines. My head is cradled in his fingers and my miniscule feet barely grace his wrist. Every time I see it, I'm reminded of the God who holds us in the palm of His hands.
The doctor who performed the surgery at the moment of my birth didn't believe that I would live. So it amazed him, a week later, when he came by to visit me and I was thriving and off oxygen. My mom still keeps in touch with him. Perhaps it was the first time he'd ever believed in a miracle.
I am ever grateful for all the things people did and reminded me of throughout my life. The prayers and tiny knitted caps and the doctors and nurses that helped sutain me. They say that the preemie girls are fighters. I know I must've been. Mostly, though, I've realized that it was God's grace that abounded and kept me alive. He upholds all life and His glory is revealed in His good Creation. Especially babies. I know this because now I have two of my own.
When our friends came to stay in my little hometown on the eve of our wedding, the hotel keeper remarked, "You here for the Miracle Baby's wedding?" Yep, that's me. The Miracle Baby. And I'm proud of it.
The picture below was taken when I was about four months old. After months in the neonatal unit in Birmingham and then intensive care in Dothan, I had finally come home. I think I weighed about 6 pounds. Maybe I was unhappy because I wanted clothes on.
Here I am a few years later, no worse for the wear. At that point, I was catching up to my peers. I imagine I was a pretty normal toddler. Don't you see that mischievousness behind the smile? I probably was thinking about how fast I could get that dress off so I could go climb a tree.
Happy birthday to me. God is good! All the time. And I am grateful.
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Now, birth's always a miracle, but for me it was a special kind of miracle. You see, I was born early. Way early. Which makes it ironic that I am always late to things.
Here I am as a baby. (I'm not sure when this picture was taken, but since I was alow to crawl compared to normal timelines I'm going to guess about 10 months.)
I've heard the stories, of course, since even though I lived this miracle I wasn't self aware enough to remember all the details. So if I get some things mixed up, please excuse me. But I am sure of one thing: God has been at work in my life since he knit me together in my mother's womb. And he had tiny knitting needles.
My mom was put on bed rest about the time most moms find out the sex of the baby, around 20 weeks. Then, after two months of book reading and watching soap operas, her blood pressure suddenly spiked. She was at 28 weeks. Combine the preeclampsia with placenta previa, and off she went to the emergency room. My mom tells a better story of how they rushed her in an ambulance three hours to Birmingham from south Alabama on June 17th. All I know is that the next day, probably very early in the morning, they performed an emergency c-section and I came into the world on Wednesday, June 18, 1980. I was born at UAB hospital weighing only 1 pound, 8 ounces and was only eleven inches long, like a hefty sheet of paper.
My favorite photograph after my birth probably still sits on my dad's desk. It is a picture of his hand (or someone else's, I don't know), holding me, while I was connected to all manner of tubes and machines. My head is cradled in his fingers and my miniscule feet barely grace his wrist. Every time I see it, I'm reminded of the God who holds us in the palm of His hands.
The doctor who performed the surgery at the moment of my birth didn't believe that I would live. So it amazed him, a week later, when he came by to visit me and I was thriving and off oxygen. My mom still keeps in touch with him. Perhaps it was the first time he'd ever believed in a miracle.
I am ever grateful for all the things people did and reminded me of throughout my life. The prayers and tiny knitted caps and the doctors and nurses that helped sutain me. They say that the preemie girls are fighters. I know I must've been. Mostly, though, I've realized that it was God's grace that abounded and kept me alive. He upholds all life and His glory is revealed in His good Creation. Especially babies. I know this because now I have two of my own.
When our friends came to stay in my little hometown on the eve of our wedding, the hotel keeper remarked, "You here for the Miracle Baby's wedding?" Yep, that's me. The Miracle Baby. And I'm proud of it.
The picture below was taken when I was about four months old. After months in the neonatal unit in Birmingham and then intensive care in Dothan, I had finally come home. I think I weighed about 6 pounds. Maybe I was unhappy because I wanted clothes on.
Here I am a few years later, no worse for the wear. At that point, I was catching up to my peers. I imagine I was a pretty normal toddler. Don't you see that mischievousness behind the smile? I probably was thinking about how fast I could get that dress off so I could go climb a tree.
Happy birthday to me. God is good! All the time. And I am grateful.
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Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Not-so-mundane moments in May
May was mostly wet, with splashes of sunshine and a hot day or two reminding us that summer is near. We enjoyed our attic fan. We read stacks of books. Sometimes we went without TV for a day. Gaines finished another semester of graduate school. Hooray! And every now and then I remembered to grab the camera. As you can see, life around here is anything but boring.
Enjoying breakfast casserole with Mr. Eric Peters. Our Captain Adorable is his biggest fan in the preschool crowd.
Meeting Clifford "The Big Red Dog" at storytime. (Two celebrities in one month! He's going to be star-struck!)
Jacob's favorite rainy-day attire. He chose this ensemble himself, right down to the "lellow" boots that matched his "lellow" shirt.
While comparing prices for VBS crafts at Michael's, I suddenly discovered a swamp thing in my aisle.
Making a wish in the fountain at the Forum on a drizzly day. I hope it came true.
Ethan enjoying his first taste of pork ribs. One of our friends from church made some of THE BEST ribs we've ever eaten. Mmmmm. Carnivorous.
Jacob being a tiger. WROAR!
He went a little overboard with his tiger "costume". I had too many art supplies out in reach this month...
Ethan mows the driveway regularly.
One of our many tricycle excursions.
Front porch sitting is good for the soul. We like to greet EVERYONE who walks by. "Hello! My name is Jacob. I'm three years old!" At least our neigbors are friendly.
See you real soon! More memorable highlights coming up shortly. Plus, an elusive "book review" post or two are in the works!
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See you real soon! More memorable highlights coming up shortly. Plus, an elusive "book review" post or two are in the works!
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Friday, June 04, 2010
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
LOST -- End and Beginning
So ... I thought about posting my take on the LOST finale, but here we are, a week and a half later, with nothing to show. Like Allison, I thought the finale was well done and a fitting end to the series. Other folks were disappointed. And that's cool. I've kind of burned out on reading the various pro and con assessments, so I'm just going to say I loved it and leave it at that. Even with its faults (both with the episode and as a finale to the series), "The End" held up well to a second viewing. In fact, it left us wanting to re-visit the entire series, though probably not anytime soon. We did re-watch the pilot, though, and it was pretty cool to see how well these two bookends held together.
Which brings me to the main thing I wanted to mention:
Mark T. aka the Foolish Sage has some great thoughts as part of a LOST Retrospective. The best part is that he actually is re-watching the series from the start, and providing comments with the entire series in mind. Should be good. He's got three episodes done already, and I think it really shows how well the show coheres from start to end. Do check it out.
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Which brings me to the main thing I wanted to mention:
Mark T. aka the Foolish Sage has some great thoughts as part of a LOST Retrospective. The best part is that he actually is re-watching the series from the start, and providing comments with the entire series in mind. Should be good. He's got three episodes done already, and I think it really shows how well the show coheres from start to end. Do check it out.
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Sunday, May 23, 2010
LOST Finale Quick Thoughts
1. Jacob & the Man in Black really weren't the focus of the show after all -- it really was all about the characters we know and love.
2. The writers are postmodern Lewis fans: The Great Divorce without the "divorce" part.
3. "Live together; die alone." It is ultimately a show about caring for and helping those you love and the people around you, and then letting go.
Well done, LOST. Well done. Thanks for a fun ride.
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2. The writers are postmodern Lewis fans: The Great Divorce without the "divorce" part.
3. "Live together; die alone." It is ultimately a show about caring for and helping those you love and the people around you, and then letting go.
Well done, LOST. Well done. Thanks for a fun ride.
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Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Bringer of Shoes and the Face Maker
Sometimes I get discouraged in this motherhood. I sleep very little. Sickness sets in. The television stays on too long. The simple task of sitting at a table together and eating a meal becomes nigh impossible. Afternoon naps? What are those? Cleaning up potty "accidents" becomes tiresome. The laundry overflows. I get on the computer to do something important but can't for the life of me remember what it was. I regret my tone of voice.
And yet, despite all those things (which all happen to be ongoing at this moment), my boys are growing up around me. And there are little signs of grace. Those moments that make you laugh or realize that God is working in their lives in unexpected ways.
On Sunday morning, after Jacob woke me up to this quip: "Mommy, your breath smells. Come see the card I made you! In the kitchen!" He returned with only an open glue stick. Uh-oh. I bolted for the den. There was a card his dad had helped him make the day before. He is his mother's child because IT WASN'T QUITE FINISHED. Not yet. It wasn't perfect. He needed to "add some more shapes." So, I helped him. At a bleary 6:30 a.m. on Mother's Day I supervised the gluing of pieces of yellow construction paper to my very own card. There. All done! And we proudly displayed it next to a vase full of roses and daisies. Some of the shapes were too big and weren't glued down so we folded them. "A pop-up card!"
Before we left for church, Ethan brought me a pair of sandals. This is his latest gift, the shoe-bringing. He understands simple and some complex commands for a fifteen-month old, but this part of the getting-out-the-door process doesn't need one. At all times of day he will surprise me with offerings of my discarded footwear or Jacob's rain boots or Gaines' tennis shoes. When someone even whispers the word "outside," there goes Ethan toddling through the house, returning with his little white loafers. He sits, obediently, with a large grin and a giggle waiting for you to put them on. He claps, expectantly. And as soon as you fasten the straps, he bolts for the door. More than just the shoes themselves, they are his key to exploring the world outside. If only I could learn from his pleasure in small things. I love that boy.
At the restaurant on Mother's Day, we came prepared with a backpack full of playthings, including a small wallet for Jacob that I picked up at an outlet last month. We filled it with pretend cards decorated with stickers and one lone American Express fake card received with the junk mail. He found it while we were waiting to be seated and decided that HE was going to pay for dinner. He called it his "honey-dollar bill." (Where has he heard about a $100 bill? Oh, wait, TV.) He proudly showed it to the hostess, asking her to take it. We told him to wait until after the meal, and thought he had forgotten. He didn't. He was crestfallen when the waitress took Daddy's Visa instead and when the card holder returned, he put his card inside. "When is she coming back?" he asked. My little gentleman, so chivalrous. Don't worry. One day, dear boy, you will be old enough to buy my lunch. Just not yet.
Tonight, as I was putting Jacob to bed, bringing him a cup of water despite our previous forbidding of a nighttime drink, I was hoping to find him asleep. He's been cranky and sick and desperately needs the rest since naps are non-existent right now. Some nights it is so easy and other times he stalls. He often wants me to lie down with him. "Sleep with me! Not somebody small, like Ethan. I want somebody big!" Neither imaginary friends not stuffed animals will do. When I entered his room tonight, I discovered him drawing on a MagnaDoodle. "Look, Mommy!" And he had created the most amazing collection of circles and dots and lines. "They are faces!" (They really were wonderful faces. I took a picture of it before it got erased. To be uploaded...eventually.) And then the kicker, after handing me his drawing: "One of them is sad because he misses his Momma." Oh, my. I love that boy.
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And yet, despite all those things (which all happen to be ongoing at this moment), my boys are growing up around me. And there are little signs of grace. Those moments that make you laugh or realize that God is working in their lives in unexpected ways.
On Sunday morning, after Jacob woke me up to this quip: "Mommy, your breath smells. Come see the card I made you! In the kitchen!" He returned with only an open glue stick. Uh-oh. I bolted for the den. There was a card his dad had helped him make the day before. He is his mother's child because IT WASN'T QUITE FINISHED. Not yet. It wasn't perfect. He needed to "add some more shapes." So, I helped him. At a bleary 6:30 a.m. on Mother's Day I supervised the gluing of pieces of yellow construction paper to my very own card. There. All done! And we proudly displayed it next to a vase full of roses and daisies. Some of the shapes were too big and weren't glued down so we folded them. "A pop-up card!"
Before we left for church, Ethan brought me a pair of sandals. This is his latest gift, the shoe-bringing. He understands simple and some complex commands for a fifteen-month old, but this part of the getting-out-the-door process doesn't need one. At all times of day he will surprise me with offerings of my discarded footwear or Jacob's rain boots or Gaines' tennis shoes. When someone even whispers the word "outside," there goes Ethan toddling through the house, returning with his little white loafers. He sits, obediently, with a large grin and a giggle waiting for you to put them on. He claps, expectantly. And as soon as you fasten the straps, he bolts for the door. More than just the shoes themselves, they are his key to exploring the world outside. If only I could learn from his pleasure in small things. I love that boy.
At the restaurant on Mother's Day, we came prepared with a backpack full of playthings, including a small wallet for Jacob that I picked up at an outlet last month. We filled it with pretend cards decorated with stickers and one lone American Express fake card received with the junk mail. He found it while we were waiting to be seated and decided that HE was going to pay for dinner. He called it his "honey-dollar bill." (Where has he heard about a $100 bill? Oh, wait, TV.) He proudly showed it to the hostess, asking her to take it. We told him to wait until after the meal, and thought he had forgotten. He didn't. He was crestfallen when the waitress took Daddy's Visa instead and when the card holder returned, he put his card inside. "When is she coming back?" he asked. My little gentleman, so chivalrous. Don't worry. One day, dear boy, you will be old enough to buy my lunch. Just not yet.
Tonight, as I was putting Jacob to bed, bringing him a cup of water despite our previous forbidding of a nighttime drink, I was hoping to find him asleep. He's been cranky and sick and desperately needs the rest since naps are non-existent right now. Some nights it is so easy and other times he stalls. He often wants me to lie down with him. "Sleep with me! Not somebody small, like Ethan. I want somebody big!" Neither imaginary friends not stuffed animals will do. When I entered his room tonight, I discovered him drawing on a MagnaDoodle. "Look, Mommy!" And he had created the most amazing collection of circles and dots and lines. "They are faces!" (They really were wonderful faces. I took a picture of it before it got erased. To be uploaded...eventually.) And then the kicker, after handing me his drawing: "One of them is sad because he misses his Momma." Oh, my. I love that boy.
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Saturday, May 08, 2010
A Perfectly Cromulent Evening with Eric Peters
When I think of Eric Peters, a few things come to mind.
Geolly Chester and the revenge of the birds
"A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."
the most outrageous homemade nachos this side of the Mississip
a Mr. Rogers sweater, a coin purse, and cheat sheets
chili cheese Fritos and bean dip from the QT
a Snoopy diary from the 1980's
and a collection of profound songs that stir my heart and encourage my soul
If you have no idea what anything in the list above is referring to, that is okay. Usually I am not sure myself. But on that last one, I will enlighten you.
Yesterday our friend Eric drove the four hours from Nashville to Atlanta. He left his amazing wife Danielle at home with their two boys, Eliis and Monroe (so close in age to our own two young sons). He does this often, leaving behind home and family to play in odd corners of our country and sleep on couches and rack up miles on their Honda Odyssey instead of his beloved Karmann Ghia. All for a chance to share his songs, returning with a few dollars in his pocket, a few CD's sold, another connection made.
Last night we had the privilege of seeing him play his heart out in front of a local Atlanta audience. In his songs I constantly discovered grace -- whether in the silliness of a misguided thoroughbred, the forlorn longing of a forgotten bicycle, the lament of an incarcerated lover, the anguish and honesty of a reality that bites. Somehow, despite hard years and hard words and hard earth, he keeps plowing songs from the rough ground. For that, I am thankful.
I racked my brain all week to come up with a song request. Something new, something old? At the last minute, I came up with "These Hands," a song about a man named Wilton Reeves. I cannot listen to it without remembering a little spot on the Georgia Tech campus where a certain engineer/theologian used to serenade me by playing that and other Peters tunes on his guitar. And hearing that song in a room filled with friends who knew us then was remarkable. We now have kids and careers and bedtimes, but still Eric's music meets us where we are.
(The Peters and the Redds. Pre-kids. But just barely.)
It's true that not everyone can be a top-40 artist or a CNN anchor or a Fortune 500 CEO or play a doctor on TV or be a Supreme Court Justice or a Pulitzer-winning author or be a household name for whatever reason fame and prestige come one's way. But you can do something you love and do it well. Like Eric.
If you have never heard of Eric Peters and would like to check out his music, please let us know. We have CD's and we know how to share them.
Thanks again, Eric. We shall try to do it again soon.
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If you have no idea what anything in the list above is referring to, that is okay. Usually I am not sure myself. But on that last one, I will enlighten you.
Yesterday our friend Eric drove the four hours from Nashville to Atlanta. He left his amazing wife Danielle at home with their two boys, Eliis and Monroe (so close in age to our own two young sons). He does this often, leaving behind home and family to play in odd corners of our country and sleep on couches and rack up miles on their Honda Odyssey instead of his beloved Karmann Ghia. All for a chance to share his songs, returning with a few dollars in his pocket, a few CD's sold, another connection made.
Last night we had the privilege of seeing him play his heart out in front of a local Atlanta audience. In his songs I constantly discovered grace -- whether in the silliness of a misguided thoroughbred, the forlorn longing of a forgotten bicycle, the lament of an incarcerated lover, the anguish and honesty of a reality that bites. Somehow, despite hard years and hard words and hard earth, he keeps plowing songs from the rough ground. For that, I am thankful.
I racked my brain all week to come up with a song request. Something new, something old? At the last minute, I came up with "These Hands," a song about a man named Wilton Reeves. I cannot listen to it without remembering a little spot on the Georgia Tech campus where a certain engineer/theologian used to serenade me by playing that and other Peters tunes on his guitar. And hearing that song in a room filled with friends who knew us then was remarkable. We now have kids and careers and bedtimes, but still Eric's music meets us where we are.
(The Peters and the Redds. Pre-kids. But just barely.)
It's true that not everyone can be a top-40 artist or a CNN anchor or a Fortune 500 CEO or play a doctor on TV or be a Supreme Court Justice or a Pulitzer-winning author or be a household name for whatever reason fame and prestige come one's way. But you can do something you love and do it well. Like Eric.
If you have never heard of Eric Peters and would like to check out his music, please let us know. We have CD's and we know how to share them.
Thanks again, Eric. We shall try to do it again soon.
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