Anna has sky powers

Henry, Anna and the cousins are spending lots of time together this summer. Maybe it's reading Percy Jackson to Henry and the three of them playing a bit of that; maybe it's just the magic of childhood. How ever it came about, Anna, age one, has been given sky powers. According to her eldest cousin, here is how she is to turn daytime into night.

"Use your powers wisely, or else you could lose your powers. Use this power only at sunset.
Raise both Anna's hands while facing a window in which sunset can be seen.
From the light turn daytime into night!"

How to turn night into day

"Use this rhyme only at sunrise, while looking through a window where you can see the sunrise. Hold up Anna's hands and say the rhyme.
Make the light from the dark. Make the sky light just a spark!"

There's a piece of the day-to-night spell I couldn't read. I'll have to ask the spell-crafter to decode it for me.

reading week

Knowing that our every-day-some-schoolwork school year will soon be over, we principals of the Microlith School (the name Joel gave our school when we registered with the state of Kansas at the beginning of the year now that Henry is seven) have wanted to focus on reading a little more intentionally than we had in the recent past. We have called this week reading week and it has met with great success so far. Here is the first of five short stories Joel is writing for reading week. I guess we'll be putting these together to form what may become The Microlith Reader.

new life

This evening, while eating pigs-in-a-blanket (and some of the other creations I made with that quickie pizza dough I stirred up) with my family, I experienced a sudden feeling of happiness with my "new" life as an unemployed mother. The dishes have been staying washed for weeks, I'm chipping away at chores that have needed doing, I'm enjoying days at the park with homeschool friends and yard time and meals with dear neighbors. Though Henry would disagree some of the time, I think I'm generally a nice person to be with right now.

And then there was this little note from Thich Nhat Hanh (via Oprah's magazine) to me tucked away in his book (which I'm giving away) Living Buddha, Living Christ.

"People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar."

Oh yeah, my Buddhist mentor. Oh yeah.

There's a lot about my dearly-departed job that I'm missing: hanging around exceptional elders, the art of "getting things done," the many opportunities I had for singing-with, laughing-with, listening-to others, my weekly meditation given at Wednesday afternoon worship.

There's also a piece I'm not missing: working with others to figure out how to make ourselves look great while (IMHO) diverting some of our best energy away from the task of intentional, sustainable, compassionate living.

I worked for a lovely institution and I wish it and its dears well. Oh yes I do.

As I sort through my library (which I've been carrying like a giant bag of sorrows in both trunks of our cars for about a month and a half), these are some of the titles I'm keeping:

The Spiritual Life and Practical Mysticism by Evelyn Underhill
(That woman lived a great life).
Prayer, Fear, and Our Powers by Flora Slosson Wuellner
A Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser

...and lots of others. I am glad to release some of them, though, because I'm weighed down by too many books. Let go, let go, let go.

Here are some of the things I'm cherishing.

Manifest the Love of God in the Universe

That's what it's all about. Even though we here in this fine house are in major transition regarding jobs, money, livelihood, I'm holding fast to the confidence that things are coming together as we accept what is, summon and then allow the right actions to flow through us. Live and accept what is in the now without anger and then clearly see what is the next point.

How fantastic it is to wash the dishes while Anna sleeps and Henry plays with Noah on a sunny springtime day. There is a flow and we are a part of it. God's great intelligence. Any of these podcasts are wonderful. I'm enjoying part II of Tom Fox's interview with David Steindl-Rast, founder of Gratefulness.org.

I am grateful.

Peace. Peace. Peace. So be it.

Anna Kate is one!

Someone we love turned one on February 28.
To help celebrate, Aunt Libby made a keepsake birthday crown.

Grandma Baumgartner made chocolate cake with seven-minute frosting.

Grandma Ewy composed a special birthday song
(but I'm not showing you Grandma Ewy because she's making a funny face and would be cross with me if I showed it even though it's sweet).

Big brother Henry helped blow out the candle.

Anna ate the cake with unprecedented daintiness.
And Daddy stood behind the camera to take pictures.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANNA KATE!
You are one year old!

At one year, Anna is standing by herself; refraining from eating pennies and dimes that she shakes out of Henry's bank and puts back in the correct slot; saying all sorts of words like, "ball," "uh-oh," "dog," "Boy Blue" (says Grandpa Baumgartner), clock, and other new words every day. She is sociable, persistent and adoring. She has begun calling Henry "Heh," and celebrates her new accomplishments with smiles of satisfaction. She seemed bewildered as she opened all those presents. What was all that paper stuff on the floor in front of her? The next day, though, she woke up acting older, as if she knew something special and transformative had happened.

This year has flown by. We are so very glad she is here with us.

Lots to post, birthday, etc., but time for a breather

Caring is the greatest thing, caring matters most.
--Friedrich von Hugel, last words, 1925

from The Quiet Eye: A Way of Looking at Pictures

February 14

homemade geoboard

After reading about this in the lab sheet annotations for Henry's Miquon workbook, I decided I could whip up a geoboard myself. And so I did. Made it in the wrong dimensions, but it's still fun.

eleven months

At eleven months (on 1/28), Anna Kate is competent with her fingers, opinionated in her likes and dislikes, fond of calling everything and everyone "di," a great admirer of her brother, sweet as ever, almost one year old!

purification

I celebrated Candlemas with women friends last Sunday. One of the words we contemplated was purification, a concept I haven't historically been overly fond of. The whole pure/impure dichotomy has tended to leave me feeling flat. Who is pure? Who is impure? Aren't we always a little of both?

Jesus talked a lot about that sort of thing. Wheat and chaff. His mother and father went to the temple 40 days after he was born, when Mary was once again, "pure," so they could receive a blessing for their son.

Candlemas is an observance of the purification of Mary, among other things. How are we like her? How am I like her? She has been important to me for a long time now, even though I can't articulate exactly why. Doesn't matter. It's deep, limbic stuff that I'm happy to feel and not explain.

So, when I sang this verse from Fred Pratt Green's "Whom shall I send?" in church this morning, I took it as a divine sign that everything's gonna be all right...one way or another.

Those who are called God purifies,
and daily gives us strength to bend
our thoughts, our skills, our energies
and life itself to this one end.

I'm losing my job, my lovely 1/4 time job, in three weeks. In painfully diplomatic language, I was told I could apply for the position full-time or say good-bye. My dear co-worker and I are electing to say good-bye. Neither one of us could take it on full time. Nor could the third dear chaplain who joined us after my Anna was born.

I pray for God to give me daily strength to bend my thoughts, my skills, my energies, my life itself, to the end of work/life balance.

Full-time chaplaincy while mothering small children has not provided that kind of balance for our family.

Here's my trusting surrender to what is to come. Light a candle. Say a prayer for our family. We have options and ideas, but the future is unlit. Thank you!

recent developments

Sometimes you want what you can't have.When you're eleven months old, though,
Mommy can usually make it better...eventually.

Christmas, good bye

I loved that tree. I love keeping Advent and Christmas. I love it that it is (reportedly) Henry's favorite time of year. I love it that there's a squared circle on the book on the piano in this photo. Did you notice it? I loved decorating our tree. I loved venturing out in the cold to get it. I loved it that Joel spotted it right off. I loved watching him saw it down and carry it away. I loved singing the little I could remember of "O Tannenbaum" while he sawed it. I loved watching Henry and Noah hike around the hill while we searched. I loved celebrating winter solstice by laying a spiral with cedar boughs that same evening.

If only I loved the rest of winter as much as I love Christmas. Now is the hard part. The days are getting longer, but I'm tired of layering up to go outside. Putting Anna in all her gear; making sure Henry has clothing that he hasn't thought to bring, but might want later.

But, now is the time we have. Now is the time I have. I can be thankful for it.

ten months

Someone else turned ten months old the next day, December 28, on Aunt Libby's birthday. What an adorable age.

Happy Birthday, Henry!

Our bouncing, not-so-baby boy turned seven December 27. Here he is trying out Anna's restraining :) device. At seven, Henry is...

• exuberant as ever
• loving his Legos, especially the Lego Star Wars items
• writing out his thoughts more and more (He wrote "Grrr, I'm mad" in the car window condensation Sunday on the way home from Wichita.)
• loving his sister
  

• wowing me with the breadth and depth of things he wants to talk about
• caring for friends with phone calls, reflective listening, patient problem-solving
• our dear boy!