And this is fun!

Why was this fun? I cannot say. But this provided entertainment for far longer than one would imagine.

Things we did on our weekend away: crafted, puzzled, played, roller-skated, read-aloud, snuggled, giggled, stared at fire place and chatted,ate, and swam. (And in the case of a particular toddler: Impressed life-guard staff with fit throwing stamina and volume when forced out of the pool. )

Stuff we've been doing...

Come here let me give you a big smackeroo.

Our Princess on her Throne.....I HATE potty training. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

PWhy aren't puzzles, Uno, Old Maid and Scrabble as much fun at home?

Just documenting that I too, went up to the mountains...

Leavin' on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again...

This begs the question, "Why put roller skates on a toddler?"

Cute kids. YMCAing.

Chipmunk Science Fair: that half a pig tail is M. Fabulous photography.

Mentos Explosion: E's Science Fair

Cause she's cute!

Long obedience in the same direction...

It's a book title, and a fabulous one, at that. I haven't read it; I've just "heard" about it from my cyber-friend Jennifer, but a title like that makes me want to read it.

Because don't you feel like that's what life is?

Doing the next thing, and the next, and the next. It's putting one foot in front of the other and keeping your eyes on the goal.

I'm a planner by nature, a visionary. I see how things could be, should be. It's always been a challenge for me to keep my eyes on the future, and my feet, and mind, on terra firma. Right here. Right now. In this moment. Doing what I should be doing.

It's easy to get discouraged when you look at all the obstacles in the way, and the challenges you will face. But one foot in front of the other...obedience in the same direction...I can do that. You can do that.

Fiesta Park

The kids have spring break this week, so in celebration and because we need it, we're going to the YMCA of the Rockies to rent a cabin. It's just for the weekend, but we've done this a couple of times now and we love it. The cabin is cozy and relatively cheap, and we get to sled, roller-skate, swim, and do crafts for free too. Good times.

So Bub is in a hurry to go, but something got lost in the translation. "When are we going to Fiesta Park?", he asks. Ah, that would be "Estes Park".

But "Fiesta Park" works too.

Wish us God Speed and superior traction as we load up the Suburban and and hed out into snow.

Dry Bones and a baby on the streets.

I'm not sure I have words for this; it's too raw, too new. But somebody should say something. Someone should.



Yesterday my cell group from church went downtown to serve the homeless youth of Denver a homecooked meal. It was fun, and novel. And TERRIBLE.



So much of the time I wear my rose-tinted suburbia glasses. I forget there is another world out there, one where the grit of poverty has worked itself into fabric of every part of life.



Homeless youth. Kids 14-21ish. Homeless. They've aged out of foster care, or been kicked out of residential programs. They've been abused, and neglected. They suffer from addiction and mental illness.



But they're just kids really.



Kids.



They were courteous and funny. They were clean, and filthy. One wore a cat on his backpack, and another looked like he worked at REI. Just kids. Just people.



I was enjoying myself until I got a kick in the gut. On the outskirts of the gathering was a girl with a bundle in her arms. A baby. And they just kept trickling in...these kids with babies and toddlers. You could tell that, just like any momma, these girls loved their babies. But they were on the streets. How's a girl on the streets, who's only ever known the armpit of life, supposed to raisee a baby?



Where do they sleep at night, these girls and their babies? Under a bridge? On a sofa? In a shelter?



That 12 month old baby I held shouldn't have been so little. She should have had better muscle tone...12 month old babies don't flop when you hold them. They shouldn't, anyway. But baby Elizabeth's momma loved her. She mixed up a bottle watered-down formula, and tucked her in with another ratty blanket when the air got chilly.



What box does that fit in? How can a homeless girl with a baby in a relatviely affluent city make sense. And despite what she says...Elizabeth's momma got kicked onto the streets by her family for a good reason. There are no innocents here, except that baby.



The baby...



growing up on the streets...



the baby...



who drinks watered-down formula from a semi-clean bottle...



the baby...

who doesn't know that some babies are going to sleep tonight in cribs,

where it's warm,

and their tummies are full.

Attachment Disorder

This is what a meant when I said that kids who age out of system have a lot to overcome. This is what I meant when I said we have failed these kids. And this is what I meant when I said healing doesn't come easy.

Teens emancipated from foster care.

On Thursday evening Eddie and I (along with our cell group) are heading to downtown Denver to provide a home-cooked meal homeless youth, Street Kids, as they call themselves. I'm looking forward to it, but it's got me thinking.

One of the saddest parts of foster care, one of its most glaring failures, are the kids that are emancipated without ever finding permanent homes. They are very likely to end up homeless, or poverty stricken. They often have mental illnesses, or end up in jail. For them the phrase "independent living" is an oxymoron. To live independently, to live without a family or community, isn't really living at all.

Permanancy is part of the solution. Kids NEED families. But already there are a bunch of street kids who's lives, statistically speaking, are headed exactly no where. They've been screwed by the system. They've failed-out, or aged-out of every program under the sun. Their families have forsaken them. Many have mental illnesses or attachment disorders. Many have learned street skills to survive, street skills that are useful on the streets, but don't help in the least when they are looking for employment.

I look at all the statistics, and I am tempted to throw in the towel. How does a situation like that get healed? Is there a road that leads to wholeness?

There is; I've got to believe there is.

But I'd say it's almost impossible without Christ.

Suburban Chicken "Farm"

Even the Denver Post has something to say about raising chickens. Apparently, it's all the rage. Click here to read more about it. (Thanks, Song, for the link)

I have yet to convince my husbandthat we should raise chickens , but my kids are so on board. I'm allergic to almost all pets, so they bemoan their pet-free existence frequently. Chickens, I think, would make nice outdoor pets. The kids concur.

I've been tossing around name ideas. So far we've got Jennifer, Esther, and Sue.

Eddie doesn't think you should name chickens those type of names.

I wonder, would he prefer, Bambie, Lassie and Charlotte.

It's this or productivity

So my house needs to be cleaned, and I don't want to do it. I decided to blog instead. My brain is a jumbled mess right now. You get what you get, and don't say I didn't warn you.

-We took Baby off of dairy after a doctor at Children's suggested allergies might be causing the coughing, wheezing and general snottiness. I think it's helping, but I'm kinda annoyed that we can't even adopt a kid without food issues. What's up with that?

-Our basement finish is coming along. Slowly. Because we have a life which includes 4 children and all the stuff that that entails.

-My husband continues to impress me with his general manliness. The guy can frame, rough in electrical and do plumbing. He also can pull off wearing Wranglers and cowboy boots without looking completely ridiculous. I bet your husband can't do that .

-Our church took several hours today to serve our community. My team did trash clean-up in an open space park. It was fun, and successful, and if you litter ---- S.T.O.P.! I mean it. It looks really crappy and it's totally irresponsible.

How was that for sensitivity?

-I am considering raising chickens. For real. Now you can decide if you still want to be my friend.

-I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, that when you're approaching what you weighed when you were 9 months pregnant with your first child and YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT... your weight may be a smidge out of control.

It's possible that it is my medication. It is also possible that it is my heart. My cholesterol is fine, but I think I might love food too much.

I was filling out a job application for a christian school. It asked, "Do you use alcohol?" I was amused. I do DRINK alcohol; I don't use it. Cookies, on the other hand, are a different story. I have been known to use cookies, and bread, and muffins.... okay carbohydrates in general...

Lucky for me they didn't ask about that on the application.

-That reminds me, Lemon Jello Pudding is really yummy. You should try it.

-I let my kids wear their jeans 2 times before I wash them. It extends the life of the jeans and cuts down on laundry. It's green. Don't you think it would be more environmentally friendly if I let my kids wear jeans 5 days in a row? It could be gross, true. But think of the laundry it'd save.

-There are still some people out there who look at me and think I have it all together. I find this vastly amusing. I have no idea how I project that image, because it is laughably absurd; just ask my family.

Some People (the same ones who think I have it together) think I'm being coy, or cute when I say I am terrible at administrative tasks. I am just being honest. Seriously, just trying to find matching socks nearly puts me over the edge.

-My bulbs are waking up and my phlox has a bloom. I saw a robin the other day and a tree with litte green buds. Spring is in the air, and it's time to start planning my garden.

Organic Church

I don't buy organic produce unless it's on sale.

I'm too cheap.

But there is this notion of organic church out there that I do buy into. I'm not sure how to concisely explain it, because it's smooshy, and messy and not everyone who likes the idea of organic church agrees on what an organic church looks like.

Here's what I think it is:

-Organic church isn't about a building or an infrastructure or a program; it's about people living in community.
-Organic church grows naturally out real life and real relationships; it isn't a thing we do; it's who we are.
-Organic church is missional. It's a group of people committed to each other and committed to impacting the world with the LOVE that has changed them.

-Organic church is Jesus with Hands and Feet. It's in the public schools tutoring. It's serving the homeless and the poor. The organic church knows the poor, and the "least of these", sometimes it is "the least of these."

-Organic church flourishes under pressure, because it needs little overhead to survive.

-Organic church can meet a the bar, or the coffeehouse, or in a living room. It can meet in a school or a rec center, but there probably is no steeple to proclaim it's presence.

-Organic church is NOT "McChurch, would you like fries like that?" It's more like the Army Rangers, or the Marines. Frontlines. Incognito. Willing to take "one" for the team.

-Organic church is people on a mission - War Buddies, after all, make the best of friends.

-Organic church embraces the traditions of the past that enhance worship, but is quick to dismiss the ones that are no longer relevant to their place and time.

-Organic church isn't hierarchical. It's smooshy, with ebb and flow. Jesus is the head, and everyone is part of the priesthood.

-Organic church is sort of intentionally not flashy - purposefully unimpressive.

-Organic church is perfect for our time.

What do you think? Could this idea take wings, or is it too idealistic? Can it work everywhere, or is it culture specific (China, but not here. Inner-city, but not suburbia) How would you manage the growth of a organic church? Or would growth be a non-issue because something so structureless is doomed to failure? What would be lost if the traditional "program" oriented church went extinct?

Blogger Template Trouble

I wanted a new look. Is that so wrong? I downloaded a free template and now I've got an obnoxious bit of code hidden there...hence the annoying banner thingy at the top. HELP ME, oh people with cool blogger templates that don't have dumb banners....HELP!!! Where did you get yours?How can I get the dumb banner off mine?

Oh and I want my widgets back.

Especially the Red Letter Campaign one.

GRRRR....

On Becoming Baby Wise

There are very few books I want to burn. As a general rule I love books. But "Babywise" is one that I would very much like to set aflame. I saw an ad on a blog, that pretty much captures it for me.

Babywise is basically a book on how to get your baby to sleep through the night and get on a schedule - "BIBLICALLY". It sounds inocuous enough. But I take issue...

1) My babies never read the book. They didn't know they were only supposed to be hungry every 4 hours and sleep through the night at 12 weeks. They got hungry when they were hungry, which was almost always around 2.5-3 hours.

Any book that makes a mom feel guilty about feeding her hungry baby is DUMB! Mom's are supposed to feed there babies when they're hungry, they're supposed to watch for cues, and get in tune with the needs of their child. It's in the definintion of motherhood somewhere, I'm sure of it.

2) Making a little baby cry herself to sleep goes against a mom's instincts and is totally impractical. Baby's are supposed to learn how to self soothe. Some are ready to learn at an earlier age than others. Crying hysterically until one is too exhausted to keep his eyes open is NOT self-soothing. In fact, (according to my crunchy sister) studies are showing that babies fall asleep to prevent BRAIN DAMAGE. Being left alone to cry is traumatic to a baby. Plus, if you've got more than one kid then the baby keeps the whole house awake. This makes for very grumpy mammas and toddlers.

3) Ezzo (the author) suggests in American Culture we need to teach our babies to be independent. Hello? They are babies. They are dependent, by nature, and by design. First, we need to know our world is safe, and secure. We need to be taught that when we cry some one will help us. Secure attachment (basically believing the world is safe, and people can be trusted) makes kids feel better about taking risks. There is a time for risk taking (and it is not infancy). But I doubt seriously, if there is every a time for independence. We are a people designed for relationship, for intamacy. That should first be modeled in the family. Independence is an American ideal, not a Biblical one.

4)Babywise also suggests babies should be kept awake to play after a feeding. Chemically speaking, that's just DUMB too! Breastmilk has tryptophan (sp) the stuff in turkey that makes us sleepy after Thanksgiving. Tryptophan is the precursor to Seretonin, the neurotransmitter that gives us a feeling of well being. I don't know about you, but if I was warm and snuggly, and my tummy was full, if my system was flooded with a chemical that made me feel good and sleepy, I'd be ready for a nap.

When my breastfed babies were very small Eddie always feet sort of helpless when I left them with him. Oh, he's a rockstar calibar dad, but he doesn't have boobs (thank the good Lord). And to a small baby, nursing brings comfort. Eddie knew this intuitively, and I think that is how God made it.

Of all the books on the planet that have been damaging to me as a mother this one tops the list. I was a youngish mom, totally insecure in my ability to parent, this book gave me a "method" to follow, and when it didn't work I felt like a failure. Only, I wasn't. I was doing it right. I was watching my baby's cues, nurturing and loving, and feeling guilty about it the whole time.

Truth is, parenting a newborn is pretty much a roll-with-the-punches ordeal. It is far more art than science. It's intuitive and relational and exhausting and not. not. not. a formula.

Our adoption training reinforced for me how DUMB this notion of infant independence is. Babies need to be held and nurtured and fed and responded to immediately. It's how they develop a sense of self and safety. Kids who don't have that end with serious issues. Serious.

Speaking of....I have a little person who needs my attention.

Because I like it...

Joy, not grit, is the hallmark of holy obedience. We need to be light-hearted in what we do to avoid taking ourselves too seriously. It is a cheerful revolt against self and pride. Our work is jubilant, carefree, merry. Utter abandonment to God is done freely and with celebration. And so I urge you to enjoy this ministry of self-surrender. Don't push too hard. Hold this work lightly, joyfully. The saints throughout the ages have witnessed to this reality.... You know, of course, that they are not speaking of a silly, superficial, bubbly kind of joy like that flaunted in modern society. No, this is a deep, resonant joy that has been shaped and tempered by the fires of suffering and sorrow; joy through the cross, joy because of the cross. ~Richard J. Foster

(thanx Angela)

Science Fair Scandal

There is a little boy in M's class who has a crush on her. She pretends to be annoyed by this, but is, actually, quite flattered. The other day M came home from school nearly crushed by grief. "Why?", you ask. Gatlin (the lovestruck 1st grader) chose to do his science fair project on the Red Fox which is the PREDATOR of a chipmunk. How could he? He knew that M chose to do a science fair on a chipmunk. Foxes eat chipmunks. M feels so betrayed.

As if that weren't enough drama my dear daughter got a five dollar gift certificate from her grandpa for Valentines Day. Very exciting! Neopets were on clearance for $5. This was clearly provision directly from the hand of God. But oh, the drama that ensued. Should it be the polka-dotted lime green unicorn? But the googly eyed bunny is so cute... How is a girl to decide? There were tears (many) and 10 minutes of heart wrenching drama in the middle of Wal-mart. So what did she decide? Ultimately, M decided on the orange and purple tiger, and second guessed herself all the way to the check-out line.

I should so totally win some kind of patient parent award.

Just one more M story.

So I bought the real "grown-up" version of UNO. The kids adore UNO. But had, up till yesterday, only played the kiddy Curious George version. The real UNO has Wild Draw 4, and Reverse, and Draw 2. This is a delightful turn of events for my cut-throat competitors. M was giddy. Literally, she was dancing on her chair (after we told her to get off the table). She stockpiled all the "mean" cards to play on her brother. She knows the point of the game is to get rid off all her cards, but she couldn't help herself. Could. Not. Help. It. She giggled and plotted, and collected, and then doled out "mean" cards at every turn. Never was a girl so happy to lose.

My M tries my patience, probably more than any other kid. I think it is because she is so invested in the moment. Her heart is tender, and volatile. She is imaginative, and talkative, and delightful. She is happy to serve, and quick to help. I love her. And I PRAY for the man who will some day fall head-over-heels for her for real.

He will have his hands full.

Chipmunks etc.

Can I just say this? I need to get it off my chest. My kids are doing this science fair project for school. The 1st graders are doing their projects on animals. My daughter chose a chipmunk. This being a Christian school and all, the kids are supposed to come up with a spiritual applications for their science fair. This seems to be ahhh...a bit contrived.

We're talking a chipmunk here...a chipmunk and a 6 year old.

I do not know what kind of deep meaningful spiritual epiphany they are expecting.

I have spent far too much time racking my brain for some sort of spiritual meaning in cheek pouches and chattering in small mammals.

Oh fellow cyber friends, the rebel in me SO wants to plaster some smart remark all over my daughter's display board. But, alas, I cannot, in good conscience, do it.

HELP!!!!!

Here's to life...

So I'm publishing the program for our little church now. I've got 1 weeks experience under my belt. I'd like to say I was an amazing success. I'd like to say that, but it wouldn't be true. The program/newsletter thingy was fair to middlin', at best. I don't like doing that kind of work. It's embarrassing. Because, after all, it IS all about me, and how I feel, right?

I know I can do it well. It just wasn't. I wasn't. And that is humbling. I could make excuses like a sinus infection, and hormones and the kid's school stuff. But the bottom line is that I didn't live up to my own standards.

Anytime I do something new, try something I haven't done, I'm overcome with suffocating insecurity. It's a stiffiling shroud. I hate it. I fight it. And it remains.

But I'm not giving up. I will keep doing new things, keep serving, and keep putting myself "out there". I will likely fail at somethings, and I am very uncomfortable with failure. I will likely get hurt. I'm sure I'll disappoint people. I hate disappointing people.

I'll do it anyway, because the alternative is no alternative at all. To stop risking is to become stagnant, to atrophe. And that is not the life I want.

So here's to life. And here's to risk. And damn it all, that church newsletter is gonna be great one of these days. :)