McDonnell Place

Friday, April 28, 2006

Ode to Summer

We've started traipsing over to the pool with the frequency of last Summer's ventures once again this season and can I ask for a big hallelujah to that?

I'm a Florida girl through and through. My brother may pride himself on how much this state is in his blood, but it must be the way we were raised because as much as it flows in him, it's there in me, as well. I'm warm-blooded, warm-minded, (hopefully warm-hearted) but just generally, warm-weather climatized. I actually used to cry a little walking outside on cold Chicago nights, when the negative degree wind literally knocked the air out of my chest with a pow... when I regularly found myself wondering why in the world I had leather seats in my car for those years at Wheaton- it was colder inside my car than out. And snow was fun... for a day or two, until it turned slushy and brown... or yellow which was never good. And so being back in the Sunshine state, and especially when this time of year rolls around, my spirits couldn't be higher. There's nothing I don't like about Summer. I love it all...

I love the smell of sunscreen on baby skin and wet bathing suits soaked in chlorine almost as much as I love smelling the rum in the air when we go to Bahama Breeze, (which is the decided reason that the restaurant even smells like the islands.) Shaun's observation. Yeah- it's the rum, he said casually and obviously enough.

I mean I knew I had an equal amount of affection for the sound of both lapping waves and steel drums, but never knew I had such a strong affection for rum... just like I never knew I had such a strong affection for the lizards perched on our porch screen and the tall, lean palm trees that stand relaxed and graceful at once. I love them equally as much as the oak canopied streets and the thick green blades of St. Augustine grass that carpet the Summer yards. I love white marshmallow clouds puffed like popcorn in a deep blue sky. I love the reflections that sparkle and dance in a swimming pool at noontime. I love sun-bleached hair and white toenails that stand out against dark skin, tan-lines and freckles in all their splendor. I love flip flops and tank tops, sunglasses and beach towels, shovels and pails. I love water-soaked, shriveled-up fingers and feet calloused from the bottom of the pool and walking barefoot. I love losing track of time because you're floating in a time-warped warm pool with friends, and eating lunch after you've worked up a really good appetite doing nothing really... except losing track of time...

Mostly I love that my kids are growing up that way, too. I love that it doesn't cost any money to do these things, live these things. I love that this sort of freedom is- in fact- free.

An Ode to Summer. Long live Summer! God bless Summer!

I love that when we left this morning Evan couldn't hold Madalyn from the stairs as he normally does for me- "I can't hold Madalyn's hand because I have flip flops on." He said this like I can't juggle with both my hands and my feet, so lower your expectations, Bela Karolyi. I love that after a few visits of caution they've turned into fish again... even if it does mean I have to be sure Madalyn's not jumping at me at any given moment without my looking, because if she does, she bobs in the water next to me until I find her and for some reason still hasn't learned a healthy fear. And I certainly love my little umbrella stroller that I got free at Toys R Us with a big purchase my mom made because it makes the trek to the pool doable. I love that every time Evan got in front of the stroller today he said- in a voice that was enough to melt me right there on the hot black road into a big pregnant puddle- "Excuse me mommy- oh, excuse me!"

I love that he said last night after swimming, "I hurt my bellyflop...my bellyflop hurts..." as if it's a body part just like the belly button, and how he repeatedly said in a voice that was enough to melt me into a big pregnant puddle right there on the yogurt-stained carpet, "I'm sorry, mommy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your belly," until I was able to convince him that his bellyflop didn't hurt my belly or the baby- but that I had been worried he'd hurt his belly- which he hadn't. (He rather likes belly flops.)

I love how Madalyn can barely pull herself onto the pool ledge over her baby belly. I love the unrestricted view of all her rolls on display in her purple Hawaiian-print bathing suit. I love how she says, "wannagogin" like it's all one word when she requests to swim to the steps, which is really just a long, lovely float, arms and legs spread eagle with absolutely no kicking until she arrives to the steps where she climbs out of the water like a seal. I love how slippery and strong she is in my arms when we're there in the pool; dimples and white teeth beaming, wild and loving at once, and in all seeming presence and personality a baby dolphin in my arms.

Yes, ode to Summer! Long live Summer! I love Summer.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Who Says These Kids Need a Backyard?

Monday, April 24, 2006

Happy B-day, Merry Christmas, and Happy Hanukkah to me

Yesterday we went and got the kids from the church nursery at the end of the service so they could hear the music. Evan pointed out the cross on the stage (an Easter "prop") and asked something very loudly about whether or not Jesus had wings just when things quieted. Then the pastor asked us to hold out our hands to receive the blessing and benediction before we left, if we were comfortable, and what do you know- both our babies were prompt to stick out their hands, too. Our two extended arms were flanked by plump, small ones, palms up, smiles on their faces, intently listening and participating. Ages 3 1/2 and 1 1/2, this is the closest I've come to being able to worship with them, alongside them, and I've never received such a blessing as that moment was for me.

On the way to the car Evan asked me if that was my class, and did I learn about Jesus today? I told him I did and asked him the same question. He said yes he did, too. I asked what about Jesus did he learn.

"That He died on the cross."

He also asked me if He was scared when He did that. He told me he watched a movie about Jesus.

The fact that I can even figure out what he did while I was absent is a blessing, let alone to hear that he's learning- and the most important thing he could be learning about on top of that....

Then after church we drove through the carwash because Evan likes it and because our car was, well, downright nasty. Madalyn started to get anxious about it, remembering the loud brushes from the past, and we heard Evan coaching her, "You don't need to be scared, Madalyn. You know why? You know who's with you? Jesus is always with you."

That was gift # 3, but then they kept coming because later that afternoon my mom called- right about the time when Shaun was watching The Perfect Storm on tv and Evan came in the room- which I can't resist sidetracking a moment to tell you how that went-

When Evan entered the room I shot Shaun a sharp look that said turn it off- little eyes in the room. Well he didn't turn it off, but instead shook his head and mouthed that it was ok, as in I have this under control. And then as the ship sunk and George Clooney surrendered to his death, swimming deep into it, Evan asked with eyeballs wide as saucers, "What is he doing?"

Shaun's reply: "Oh he got hungry... he's going back inside to get a sandwich."

"Back inside" being back into the sinking ship descending into the dark pit of the ocean.

The other man who managed to escape swam to the stormy surface and Evan then met a new horror in viewing the strength of the water around this guy; "Is he not scared," he asked us.

"No, he's just gonna swim on home to his mommy and daddy," said Shaun.

(Why he had to give Evan further reason to associate himself with this stranded man by giving the stranger a mommy and daddy just like Evan, I have no idea. There's a lot of Shaun's mind that utterly baffles me and that I'll never understand, and I have no idea he can say the same about me...)

But it wasn't surprising when not long after all this went down, that while I was cleaning Evan's room he came in and said to me, "I'm not scared of the storn..."

(the 'n' is not a typo- that's how he says it)

"...but I don't ever want to go there, okay?"

He's continually asked since- even today, just to be sure- "are we not ever gonna go there?" which comes as no wonder, right?

Anyway, back to while we're watching the storn, when my mom calls, when the third Sunday surprise came as she said she and Doug had to go to Leesburg and could they come on down and take us to dinner while they were at it.

Dinner? Out? No cooking? Help with the kids? What a terrible idea.

So we went to Carrabba's and had a nice dinner with surprisingly well-behaved kids who surprisingly ate their meals and charmed Honey and Poppy until well-passed sunset and bedtime.

Honey and Poppy even had their food wrapped up when the kids finished theirs before ours came, and left us to finish our meal, ALONE. So Shaun and I stayed and scarfed ours down like two Ethiopian kids who'd never tasted a hot meal before, then sat with bloated stomachs and stared at each other like people in a retirement home.

We used to say we never wanted to be the two old people who just sit quietly and stare off into space at their restaurant table. And we still don't want to be that all of the time, but I think we've also come to appreciate the fact that we're okay not talking all of the time. There is, afterall, a time for everything- and especially silence when you live with toddlers.

When we left an old woman piled high with take-out insisted on holding the door for me. "You're going to be a mommy soon," she said.

Once outside I told Shaun, "Oh I'm already a mommy- trust me."

Shaun laughed, because if anyone knows how trying things can be with these two toddlers of ours, it's him.

But to be perfectly honest, yesterday was a very good day to be Evan and Madalyn's mommy. I couldn't have felt more blessed... or less deserving. Every day it's sheer Grace that affords me that privilege, and especially the days I take it for granted.

May those days be few, Lord. Oh, make them very few!

Sunday, April 23, 2006

From Easter Sunday

Ethan

Sydney

From Saturday's Egg Hunt at Church

at my station and on duty

Thursday, April 20, 2006

A Mother's Love

In the past few weeks time, mosquitoes have invaded our home. For some reason they favor Evan's quarters and Evan's flesh. We've all gotten a few bites here and there but not like him. He looks like he has the chicken pox... 16 on his face alone I've counted. The attacks are almost entirely in the night hours. He sleeps on his tummy with his arms tucked under him- always has- so his elbows, where they stick out between the covers and his pajama shirt, also have multiple bites to match his face. Easter morning he went to church dazed and confused on Benadryl because his left ear was swollen up like the Elephant Man's. He's gone to bed the last two nights lathered up in OFF. It's a new scent, though, so at least he smells like chemical flowers instead of just plain chemicals.

Why settle for this? Because it's apartment living. The golf course next to us is switching ownership and is not at all maintained right now, so we figure these pests are breeding by the thousands over on the 18th hole just below our back porch (thank the Lord it's screened.) We've called- (we'll call her Tiffany- the Barbie doll at the complex office,) but Tiffany has never once carried out a maintenance request of mine. In fact whenever I talk to her about anything she always seems confused, cocking her head at me like a puppy dog, and not because she's really a ditz but because she doesn't like me and goes out of her way to make me feel like I speak an alien language. We used to deal with Gwen, but wouldn't it figure that Gwen left this job just in time for our crisis. So Tiffany told me she'd get on it in a few days- hopefully by the end of the week. Then Shaun called. The experts came the next morning, and all Shaun had to do was ask Tiffany nicely to please get someone out that day.

Clearly, Tiffany hates women.

And children. But that's another story.

So this morning I found a few dead mosquitoes on Madalyn's window sill (which is probably from the stench of the sour milk in the carpet under her crib because the experts still haven't actually sprayed but only assessed the "situation") and then I noticed a live one on the window pane. And this is how fed-up I am with these things feasting on the tender flesh of my children- I killed it... WITH MY BARE HAND. Leaving guts and blood on the glass and scrunched up legs and crushed carcas on my palm. And what's more... it didn't phase me- ME! The bugaphobic. (Which why should it bother me when it was probably my very own blood in that thing's swollen belly that was now splattered on my skin.)

So- you'd be so proud- I just went to the kids' bathroom and washed that disease-carrying invader right off my hand and down the drain with a bar of rubber duck soap. I've learned not to mess around with trying to find something to kill them with- they're too fast for that. They're too hard to spot. And so from now on, it's all-out, unarmored war. The blood is on my hands!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

One-Liners From Evan

At breakfast the other morning, when Evan was talking like Madalyn using baby words:

Shaun: "Evan, you want to talk like a big boy because babies, babies can’t do a lot... they have to go to bed early and they cry and whine, and sometimes mommies and daddies ignore them. So you don’t want to be a baby."

Evan: "Nore-them? What color is nore-them?"

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The other morning after Evan had eaten a banana slathered in peanut butter he stood by our bed trying to talk to Shaun, so I encouraged him to go ahead and climb up because they could talk better. He protested and pulled away as I tried to help.

"What's wrong," I asked him.

"Well sweetie, I might get sticky things on the bed!”

Monday, April 17, 2006

Easter Reflections

I'm not sure if it was the service itself this year, or the state of my heart that made this the best Easter to date. I may be 26 years old, but I'm only now undergoing my biggest growth spurt, and it's been an all-year happening... spiritual blessings and moldings springing forth in leaps and bounds month after month. There's a story here but not the one I want to share today.

Today, after I've just finished picking up cracked plastic eggs from around our house and trashing many foil wrappers, after reading the blogs of friends and reflecting on our own Sunday, I feel the gratitude and joy of yesterday's worship wash over me again...

Our pastor's sermon was powerful and Spirit-filled, focusing on 2 Corinthians 5: 21- "God made Him in who had no sin to be sin for us so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God." He spoke of the canyon climber you may have heard of- Aron Ralston- who cut off his own arm (trapped under a 900 lb boulder) with a pocket knife to be separated from the death-trap of his dying arm so that he could rise and live.

I can't imagine cutting through the skin, muscle, nerves, and arteries of my own arm, bit by bit. I can't imagine using my weight and the rock to snap my radius and ulna in half. I can't imagine wanting to live that badly... having that sort of will. Our pastor called it "man's will."

He asked the congregation what we felt trapped by, pinned-in by; finances, a relationship, addictions, circumstances- his examples of these traps were more piercingly specific than I can recall and distinctly Spirit-led. He spoke of Christ's work and achievement on the cross, on how the cross separates us from that death trap of our dead appendage (= our sin.) Just as what Aron did demonstrated the strength of man's will, what Christ did on the cross demonstrated God's will toward man. He separated us from the wages of death through the power of the cross in the way Aron separated himself from his arm- Aron was pinned by a rock and we're pinned by our sin. Praise Him who rolled away the stone, and with it our sin!

In closing, our pastor explained that because of this, we are given the opportunity to rise and live... why would we dwell in the death-tomb of our sin any longer? It would be the same as cutting our arm off and sitting there by it afterwards, to die in the canyon when we are free to rise and walk. We've been freed from the guilt, so why tarry in the tomb of materialism or pornography or jealously, he asked us. Why sit next to our dead appendage when there's life and the fullness of joy awaiting? When we could be walking with One Who loves and frees us and experiencing the fullness of joy, receiving the desires of our heart that can be met in Him alone?

I could go on, but it would be ridiculous as I can do such a message very little justice in these few paragraphs... but if you're interested in hearing the sermon yourself, visit here and click the top sermon choice. I'd (obviously) highly recommend it.

When he finished the sermon, the first words out of our music minister's mouth were, "Why do you look for the living among the dead," quoting Luke 24: 5, followed by Keith Green's amazing and moving Easter Song.

On the rest of the music- it was equally as powerful and Spirit-filled through the entirety of the service. We also sang Christ the Lord is Risen today, Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble, The Day of Resurrection, and In Christ Alone (with Apostles Creed.)

We sang Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble before the sermon and I must've sung that song hundreds of times in perhaps a dozen different locations of worship, and yet it hit me with a freshness I can't describe... though you know me, and I'll try anyway-

Did you feel the mountains tremble?
Did you hear the oceans roar?
When the people rose to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

Did you feel the people tremble?
Did you hear the singers roar?
When the lost began to sing of
Jesus Christ the risen one

And we can see that God you're moving
A mighty river through the nations
And young and old will turn to Jesus
Fling wide your heavenly gates
Prepare the way of the risen Lord

As we were singing these familiar words and I looked around and saw the shared joy and like-minded belief that He has risen indeed, and it occurred to me- was seared into my mind- an image, sense of reality of what it must have been like to live there in Jerusalem on that day. To be part of a body of his followers mourning his death and begin to hear the rumors come in- He is alive, just as plainly as if it had happened right there amongst our own body...

To have been there and trembled along with creation at this, the climax of history, of all past and present- and for it to have been as real as it was to stand there and sing it all these years later... no, I was right- I can't explain it as it was for me yesterday...

Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring your hope
Songs that bring your peace
Dancers who dance upon injustice

And then this, that gave me chills up my spine and made me want to break out in dance:

Did you feel the darkness tremble?
When all the saints join in one song
And all the streams flow as one river
To wash away our brokenness

Oh, praise Him!

For the benediction we repeated thrice, as we often do, "Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again." And the third time we said it, that third sentence hit me with another piercing reality, like a nail in the palm of my hand- "Christ will come again."

As surely as He lived and died and rose from the depths of hell, He's coming back. Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia!!

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Happy Resurrection Day!!

This is what happens when I ask Evan to smile

DOH!

Friday, April 14, 2006

Good Friday

Thoroughly enjoying Oswald Chambers, three excerpts from My Utmost for His Highest:

April 9th, Have I Seen Him?

"12Afterward Jesus appeared in a different form to two of them while they were walking in the country."

Mark 16

Being saved and seeing Jesus are not the same thing. Many are partakers of God's grace who have never seen Jesus. When once you have seen Jesus, you can never be the same, other things do not appeal as they used to do.

Always distinguish between what you see Jesus to be, and what He has done for you. If you only know what He has done for you, you have not a big enough God; but if you have had a vision of Jesus as He is, experiences can come and go you will endure as "seeing Him Who is invisible." The man blind from his birth did not know who Jesus was until He appeared and revealed Himself to him. Jesus appears to those for whom He has done something; but we cannot dictate when He will come. "Now I see Him!"

Jesus must appear to your friend as well as you; no one can see Jesus with your eyes. Severance takes place where one and not the other has seen Jesus. You cannot bring your friend unless God brings him. Have you seen Jesus? Then you will want other to see Him too. "And they went and told it unto the residue, neither believed they them." You must tell although they do not believe.

O could I tell, ye surely would believe it!
O could I only say what I've seen!
How should I tell or how can ye receive it,
How, till He bringeth you where I have been?

April 10th, Moral Decision About Sin

"6For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with,[a] that we should no longer be slaves to sin— 7because anyone who has died has been freed from sin." -Romans 6

Co-Crucifixion. Have I made this decision about sin-- that it must be killed right out in me? It takes a long time to come to a moral decision about sin, but it is the great moment in my life when I do decide that just as Jesus Christ died for the sin of the world, so sin must die out in me, not be curbed or suppressed or counteracted, but crucified. No one can bring anyone else to this decision. We may be earnestly convinced, and religiously convinced, but what we need to do is come to the decision Paul forces here.
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