These Days

In a season of little sleep, there are some things that are just good ideas.  Don't keep too careful track of how many times you woke up with the baby.  It doesn't really matter.  Eat whatever you want, mostly.  Watch television whenever you want.  Try to see the BIG picture.  Of parenting, of nighttime.  Of babies.  It is all so fleeting.  Be gentle with yourself every minute of every day.

Some things that are These Days, that I'd like to remember:
Baby Henry:  unbelievably sweet, chubby and squishy.  his barrel chest and his handsome head of hair.  his coos and smiles.  how he looks for a painting on the wall, any painting, and smiles at it thoughtfully.
TV: 30 Rock, Bob's Burger, SNL
Food:  Red vines, Meals made for us by others with love, Peanut butter M&Ms, Miller High Life (The Champagne of Beers), Coffee, Sun Chips, Chocolate covered graham crackers
Music: Mates of State, Josh Ritter, "I See the Light" from Tangled, a playlist I made called "Come On" that is inspired by the Death Cab for Cutie song with that refrain, "Transatlanticism", Alabama Shakes, esp. "Hang Loose"
Kids playing legos, playmobil and My Little Pony
Laundry
Reading my new Bible
Fresh Haircut
Moby wrap
School drop offs and pick ups
Maggie and Lily when eating rice that they mash up with their forks call it "grice"

The Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. Amen.

Came across this in some Lent reflections.  This prayer is hard.  

Always the Heimlich

This is a picture from Disneyland in October, when Amanda and I went with the kids.  I cannot even believe that we did that, but we did.  The thought now of walking around the parks, getting on rides and such is so impossible.  But there we are.

Happens Every Day

Walking to the bus

There's a Dar Williams song that says:

"The first part of every day for me is good
I've got the bus stop in my neighborhood
Everything's on purpose, everywhere they go
Hiding in my car and running in the snow
Running with the friends they'll know for years
I've seen it all from here, from here

It happens every day, before they go to school
They play until the bus drives up beside my lawn
And there's always been a mother who waits till they are gone
Then she turns away, Happens every day"

It's strange to be the mother at the bus stop.  I love the bus, and I hate the bus.  It is so convenient and easy.  And it is so cruel...in a cliched way.  She climbs the steps that are so big for her now.  She looks at me from the window.  I wave.  It's a yellow school bus!  Years from now, just seeing one will make me pine for these days.  Or maybe not, but now, every time I watch it drive away it's a little bit awful.  And it's also so convenient and easy and I walk back home with the soon to be middle child, and it's fine.  But "the bus" is a symbol, bigger than my family or my Kindergartner   It's everybody's Kindergartner headed off to school, every child heading out alone, away from the home fire, each stop adding more to their number until they're a bus-full, buzzing and churning to get out and do all the big things they're going to do.

I've learned I can only handle all this 3 or 4 times a week, and one day, usually a Friday, I drive her to school just to avoid it all.

A Psalm of Life by Longfellow

Last night, while waiting in a crowded hallway to go into the Longfellow Winter Concert, I read the bulletin boards I could see and saw a few portions from Longfellow's poem, "A Psalm of Life".  And I looked at his portrait and I thought about these words, the closing stanza to the poem:

"Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait."

After reading a sermon on advent called "Watching" by John Henry Newman given way back in 1838, I've been thinking about this part:

"He watches for Christ who has a sensitive, eager, apprehensive mind; who is awake, alive, quick-sighted, zealous in seeking and honouring Him; who looks out for Him in all that happens, and who would not be surprised, who would not be over-agitated or overwhelmed, if he found that He was coming at once."

Wanting to live a better and more honoring life.  Honoring the value of life, honoring the value of time, opportunities, gifts.  Watching for Christ does not mean I look right over what is happening around me now, it means that I am watching for Christ in the moment and in the future.

on repeat

The song Working Titles by Damien Jurado.  I love it!

"I want you and the skyline.
These are my demands."

Ah, the nineties

I heard this song at Trader Joe's last night after church.  Shopping for fruit for school lunches.  It made me smile so much.  "Do whacha like!"

Poem for Wednesday

The Secret Sits

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
the secret sits in the middle and knows.

Robert Frost

Middle of the night Northern Exposure viewing to thank for remembering this little poem--Chris says it on the radio after his trial to see if he has to go back to West Virginia for breaking his parole.  The judge decides that it would be a hardship to the town for him to have to leave, so gives the town 3 years to find a new disc jockey.  Then he will be summoned to West Virginia, if the state remembers to do so...which was always an unsettling ending to me.  The case was built on the idea that Chris in Cicely is not the same Chris who was in prison in West Virginia.  That he is so changed, he is a different person.