Object Permanance

When babies are very small so is their world. It consists of what they can see, and hear, taste and smell. To a baby’s way of thinking if he cannot see his mother she is simply not there, though she may very well be only feet away. But as a baby matures his world grows. He learns that even if he cannot see something it still exists. Peek-a-boo becomes hours of entertainment because the baby gets the joke; he knows that what he cannot see still is. It’s called object permanence.

Here’s the thing: sometimes I think that object permanence is a lesson we forget as we age. Just like when we were young, we think that our world is only what we can see. I know that is my tendency.

I live in suburbia.
Yards are well manicured.
People are well dressed, and most families have two cars, at least.

My world is absurdly affluent.

I forget that my world is NOT the norm. Most people don’t live as I do.

This road trip has been an excellent reminder. My husband is from New Mexico (yes, that is a part of the union). But the culture here is very different than the one I inhabit in Colorado’s frontrange. It is heavily influenced by Mexican and Native American culture. We’ve driven hours upon hours through rural New Mexico and Arizona, and in so doing crossed lands reserved for indigenous people.

The two story homes that I am used to driving by have been replaced by old trailer homes with tin roofs. The roofs are littered with old tires. I was puzzled by this, but my husband explained they were there to secure the roof against the stiff winds of the Southwest, and to muffle the sound of rain on tin. Yards, become dumping grounds for abandoned cars. And it is not uncommon to see multiple trailers on one lot – extended families live together and keep costs down. And if a second trailer cannot be afforded then an old school bus or Airstream will do to expand the living space.

I love to trespass. It’s a quirk. Somehow, “Do Not Enter” reads like an invitation to me. Abandoned buildings fascinate me and the romantic in me wants the walls to speak. I just know there is a story to be told. Eddie has finally accepted this and will sometimes accompany on my illegal expeditions. He even offered to show me an old abandoned barn not far from his parent’s home. On the way I saw an old run down house. “Can we go check out that one?”, I asked.

“That one? I think someone lives there.”, Eddie replied. That one? For real? Here in the United States? I am stunned.

My first encounter with poverty was as a teenager on a missions trip to Jarez, Mexico, and later West Africa. It’s a thing that changed me; expanded my world. Now, again, I am realizing that the poverty is not so far away from home. It is just beyond my line of sight. And like a baby, sometimes I think the things I cannot see do not exist.

My world is expanding.

So as we drove through the Navajo Nation I began to think about my daughter’s native heritage. I wonder what it’s like to grow up on a reservation. So, because I’m a rich girl, I pull out my fancy phone and Wikipedia, “Sioux Reservations”. While we travel through arid land marked by poverty I read about another land, further North. It is a Sioux Reservation. I am floored:

-70% unemployment

-Rampant alcoholism, depression and domestic violence.

-STDs

-High infant mortality, and pathetic healthcare.

HERE – IN THIS COUNTRY. Poverty...the soul sucking kind.

And those children, they look like mine.

My world is expanding…and I do not like what I see, what I know. I can return to infancy. I can pretend my world is healthclubs, two story houses, and SUV’s. Or, I can grow-up. What will that mean, I wonder? What if I live in such a way that acknowledges that what I have is so much more than most? What if my neighbors live in trailer houses with tires on the roof? And what if their babies’ die because of lack of health care?

If I pray, “thy kingdom come” am I willing to be a part of it? Can I say that I know Jesus, love him, at all if my heart does not break for the things that break his heart?

Culture Shock

So my husband's parents own a home in the sticks - The WAY - sticks. The first time I visited rural New Mexico I experienced culture shock. Now, Eddie is fully acclimated to suburbia and he sees his old haunts with new eyes. These words actually came out of my husbands mouth, "They don't even sell Starbucks coffee here..." He said those words on our way back from the "grocery store". If memory serves that was right before we passed PETE'S DRIVE-THRU BAR. Yep, you read that correctly; it's a drive thru bar.

Merry Christmas!

I can't stop

I'm going through our pics and found this one. I love it. I'll try to stop posting this pictures one at a time, but I'm not sure I can do it.....

Not on the Christmas Card

Ah, this one didn't make the Christmas Card. Note fiesty one year old is wacking annoying 5 year old brother in the noggen. Befuddled father looks on with dismay, while mother pastes on her "happy family" smile. It is unclear whether 5 year old sustained brain injury.

An attempt

This is my dad's attempt of getting a picture of all the grand kids. I LOVE IT!!!

We're in AGAIN....for real.

So you'll remember that we had planned on putting the kids in school come spring semester 2009. And then the cash presumably dried up...and private school ain't cheap. So we nixed tht plan. We re-adjusted our attitudes and planned on continuing to homeschool. But then this is what happened within 24 hours.

A) Eddie got a bonus

B) I got a call from the school that they were offering our family 1/2 price tuition

so...

I called the school and said that we'd re-evaluated, and I wanted to enroll the my kids. The receptionist started to cry...on the phone...which was kinda weird. She said that they had been praying everyday for the last 2 weeks that God would provide a way for our family to be a part of their school.

Prayer answered.

And so our lives are going to change. But I am certain, absolutely certain, that this is where our family needs to be for this season. And that is a good thing.

Aren't we cute?

Merry Christmas

I try to do only one family picture a year because, let's face it, getting 4 kids to look one direction and smile is a relatively impossible feat. In fact, I think they might take family pictures in hell because, in my experience, family photo shoots are a little taste of hell on earth.

My dad graciously took this for us. We have some fabulous pictures of the kids that will get posted when I have more than 30 seconds. So, ah, consider this your Christmas card from us this year. I MIGHT get around to emailing one out, but it would not be good for your health to hold your breath until you receive a Christmas greeting in the mail.

On Safety

This is the second year that our family has incorporated Adorenaments into our Christmas Tradition. Adorenaments are ornaments with pictures of the names of Jesus. There are 12, and each of the 12 days before Christmas we hang an ornament and read a little about that particular name of Jesus. It's a good tradition. The kids like to fight about who's turn it is to hang the ornament, and it does shift our focus away from present and to the Christ in Christmas.

Yesterday, Bub hung an ornament with a picture of a door on our Charlie Brown Tree. Jesus is the Door...He is our Way to the Father and no one comes to God except through Christ. The book that accompanies our Adorenaments pointed out that the shepherds of Jesus' day would herd the sheep into a fold each night and lie across the opening. They would become a literal door, and would protect their flock against wild animals and enemies.

I love that image of safety.

I am of the school of thought that locking ones doors is just an illusion of safety. All it does is keep the good people out. Legitimate bad guys are not deterred by a $50 Home Depot lock. But Jesus as my door seems like a legitimate defense. Real safety.

Given my cynical nature about security you'd think that safety wasn't a big deal to me. But you'd be wrong. Safety is a big deal. In fact, it's one of the reasons I fell in love with my husband. I know it's supposed to be more romantic than that. But, in the end, security is one of the things that drew me to him.

When I met my husband I was working and going to school at CU. At that time there had been a number of rapes on campus...of the "jump out of the bushes and grab you" variety. This had women on edge. I was used to carrying pepper spray and a whistle and going places with a buddy. But sometimes I did walk across campus in the dark, by myself. It was scary.

Eddie always hated that I did that.

I liked that he hated it.

He always had me call when I got home so he knew I'd gotten there safely. He walked me to my car. He opened doors for me. He put oil in my car when I, ah, couldn't figure out what all the banging in my engine was about. (Apparently, pistons make that noise when there is almost no oil in the engine). He showed up early. He followed through with commitments. He walked on the street side of the sidewalk. He was trustworthy. He was safe. Still is; and I love him for it.

I think I love Jesus because he's safe too. When, as they say, " the fit hits the shan" (and it invariably does) Jesus is the same. He is mighty to save. He is victorious, and good. And when the temporal just sucks I know that there is an eternity that is different. And it began with a baby in a manger. But I think, this Christmas, it is important to remember that baby Jesus , meek and mild is not the only image we need to have of the Christ.

He is the door. Strong. Mighty. And a sure defense.

Little Children

True confession: I subscribe to Rainbow Kids waiting children e-mail update. Everyday my in-box is filled with several children who've been added to a list of children who are waiting for homes. Sometimes I cannot bear to open the emails and read the profiles of these kids. I hit delete and shoot a quick pray that these little people will find families soon.

Some days, I do read the profiles, and look at the pictures. And I am reminded that that the orphan crisis is not an abstraction. These are real children, with names, and needs, and sometimes siblings. And they NEED homes.

I want to adopt them all, which is a ridiculous impossibility.

The other day Eddie came home and saw my laptop was opened to an Ethiopian adoption blog. He said, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!" He remembers what happened last time I started reading adoption blogs. Here's a hint: it has resulted in the purchase of a Suburban and countless Cheerios on our dining room floor.

Truth is, it makes me nervous too! I'm sorta maxed out; adoption seems absurd. But I cannot help that my heart breaks for these little people. So here's the thing: if this blog tempts you to check out an adoption blog, or go see all the waiting children photolisted on Rainbow Kids, DO IT! If there is room in your heart, or your house, or your car for one of the least of these....consider adoption. It has been one of the scariest, most costly, incredible blessings of our life.

Oh Christmas Tree

It's becoming family tradition to go Christmas tree hunting in the outback of the Colorado's wilderness. Okay, not exactly "outback", but close enough. This year it took us 6 hours, 6 HOURS!!!!!! to cut down a very unattractive au natural tree.

Baby was not convinced that this is, in fact, a good family tradition.

It is an unattractive tree.

It was cold.

We did blow an entire day in the hunting.

BUT

We have our obligatory photo with Smokey the Bear and the kids seem to forget all the unpleasant parts of the experience and beg to go cut a tree year after year.

Hey, guess what! I got a new toy...but I wonder whe n I will get my toy from Christmas...Oh, I know when it's Christmas. I wonder what

Cyber-stalking

Recently, I did a little cyber-stalking. Don't tell me it's never occurred to you. It's so easy; just type in the name of an ex-boyfriend, or long lost friend in some search engine and see what pops up.

Give it a try. But I warn you: you must be prepared for what you discover.

I wasn't.

I discovered a long, lost ex-boyfriend was doing post doctoral research at Yale. I always knew he was smart, so I wasn't totally shocked. What surprised me was the bout of insecurity I felt at the discovery.

I thought to myself..."I wonder if my ex has ever cyber-stalked me?" If he has he won't discover my name in the byline of any academic journals. He won't discover that I matriculated from a fancy pants university or two. He might, perhaps, discover this blog. Then he would find that I am a stay-at-home mom of 4 children.

Impressive, no?

When I shared my discovery and the resulting insecurity to my baby sister she had these words of wisdom to impart: "Don't be stupid. It's not like you got knocked-up when you were 15 and kept popping out babies. You chose this life. It's good. You're a good mom, and you have a good marriage. What you do is important."

PREACH IT SISTER!!!!!!

Because I need to hear it. I need to hear that what I do matters. That, in the end, it's not about grocery shopping, and diaper changing. It's about serving, and in so doing ministering the love of Christ to my family.

By the world's standards there is little remarkable about what I do. But eternity uses a different economy; it is one where servanthood is valued. And in eternity the only ones to gain their life are the ones who are willing it lose it.

So everyday I have a choice, a choice to pursue my own agenda, or to lay down my life. I can live for the accolades of the world, or I can live in the service of a the Most High King. And, by the way, that can be done while conducting post-doctoral research at an ivy league institution, or in while scrubbing dishes at the kitchen sink

So for me, for today, I will chose to believe that my calling is high, and my reward is great. I will serve the people God has called me to serve, and in the end, that is what matters.

My Portion

I am learning how to live in the present, to live fully today.

I've always been a "head in the clouds" kind of girl. I'm a dreamer. This is who God made me to be, and it's a good thing. The problem is that sometimes I can put my hope in what could be instead of enjoying what is.

What "is" is always less glamourous, and romantic than my idealized version of life. In real life there are mosquito bites, and runny noses. In real life I will never ever be caught up with my laundry. In real life I have 15 pounds to lose and gray hair that refuses to stay colored. And real life is good. In real life I have four small children. In real life I must bake gluten free. In real life I wake up early and don't stop working until my head hits the pillow. In real life I go to the bathroom with a 1 year old knocking on the door. My real life is not all that suited to my introversion - I am rarely alone.

But in my real life I am married to a man whom I deeply love and treats me better than I deserve. In real life I make green eggs and ham for breakfast in honor of Dr. Suess. My house is always warm, and I always have food in the pantry to feed my children. I get time to cuddle on the couch and read stories. And I have all that laundry because all 6 of us have all the clothes we need. I have better, and deeper friendships than most people even dream of. And Jesus loves me.

This is my cup; my portion. It is more sweet than bitter. He has given me this man, these children, this home. He has given me these talents, and these struggles. He has given me this amount of money, not more, not less. I will swirl it around and take in the aroma. I'll note the aftertaste and the complexity of flavors. This is my cup; portion. I will accept it and taste it's fullness today.