Love Remembers

The last 6 months have completely rocked my world.  Not because anything has happened to me personally, but because I have watched those that I care about, or those that I know, suffer of the greatest kind.  In it all, I have been looking for God, searching for His sovereignty and wondering where He is.  I don’t know if I found what I was looking for but by searching, watching, and listening, I have learned of the greatest love in the world.

Love comes in so many different ways and shapes and sizes, but these last few months, I have learned that love is always there.  Love remembers everything that happens, sacrifices that were made, things that were lost, hearts that were broken.  Love is always there.  If we choose love, it will remain.

Love remembers my friend Charity.  Charity and her husband, Tony, were blessed with a beautiful baby girl named Alethia Joy.  She was born on February 3, 2009 and was ushered into the safe arms of Jesus before she ever drew a breath here on earth.  In watching Charity (and Tony, but mostly Charity) deal with her grief, I know this: she doesn’t belong here.  People like Charity don’t belong on the same earth as me.  People like Charity belong in Heaven.  People like Charity bring Christ to this earth, and I look at her, and I just know that there’s something different about her.  I think it’s because she was asked to give up her one and only daughter to the Father.  Like He sacrificed His Son for us, for us to grow closer to Him, Charity gave her daughter up to Him, for Alethia’s story to find someone’s heart, so that the lost could grow closer to Jesus.  Since hearing the news late on February 2, there has not been a single day that I don’t pray for Alethia and her mom and her dad.  There’s not a single day that I don’t wish the best of God’s love, the greatest of His blessings on their family.  I sometimes look at my own beautiful daughter and wonder why I was allowed to keep her, but Charity wasn’t allowed to keep her baby, and it breaks my heart.  It’s not fair.  I pray that I never forget Alethia’s story, because her story is Charity’s story, and Charity’s story is of a human’s love for her Father, a woman who loved her Father so much that she chooses every day to give Him the glory for the life that she had to give up.

Love remembers a boy I knew in high school.  I managed the swim team, he swam backstroke.  After graduating he married (get this!) a teammate’s sister and had a beautiful baby boy.  About three years later, they were expecting their second child – a girl.  They named her Hope Elizabeth.  Shortly after they found out that the baby was a girl, they found out that Hope had a heart defect, one that would demand open heart surgery shortly after birth.  There began a campaign to get Hope to the best pediatric cardiac center in the country.  Hope was born, a full term baby, and the quest began to get her healthy enough to nurse, to thrive, to live.  Hope shocked all of her doctors by coming through surgery and making it, being stronger than anyone would have ever expected.  And then, three weeks after her birthday, Hope went into cardiac arrest and died.  But her legacy is one of a baby who fought with her whole heart.  Her parents remind everyone that only Jesus could heal Hope’s broken heart and now she was perfectly whole again.  They remind everyone of Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Love remembers a friend whose husband has had four affairs.  FOUR.  He apparently had one of these while she was bearing one of their children.  After each of these she has taken him back, forgiven him, and started over again.  They have raised a family together, but after almost twenty years and affair after affair, she’s throwing in the towel.  She’s done.  But love remembers her heart for forgiveness and gives her strength to go on.

Love will remember a little boy whose father struggles to do what is right for his son, while losing so many things that are important to him.  Love remembers the father whose own heart breaks for his boy, at the same time trying to make his own life better.  Love remembers a young man who can’t remember what it was like to be happy and who’s scared to be on his own.  He doesn’t know what it’s like to want to get up in the morning, and he can’t remember days when he would smile and laugh.  But love is there, if he would choose to believe it.

Love also remembers the husband and wife who put each other above everything else.  Love remembers the big brother who brings his little sister a cupcake from school.  Love remembers the little girl who smiles just because mommy gave her a kiss.  Love remembers best friends at school, who look forward to each morning just to see one another.  Love remembers the teacher who poured out everything she had for her students.

I think my point is this: when the people around me begin to suffer, I begin to look more for God’s love to be present.  And what I’ve found is that if I look for it, it’s there.  If we choose to look for God’s love, we will find it, but like so many other things, do we choose love?  Or do we choose something else?  I vote we choose love.  Because love remembers us and it will always remember us.

And it begins

Today is my first day of summer!  Hurrah!  This past weekend JJ and Rob, with some help from Steve, built us a new deck.  It is awesome.  And very safe.  JJ started working around 8 and didn’t get finshed until almost 10.  They did stop for meals, though.    And while that was happening, I washed and kindof detailed my car.  I didn’t get to JJ’s.  I need to, though.  Probably this weekend.

Sunday morning Natalie and I made cookies.  It was my first real cooking project with Natalie, even though I have allowed her to do things like put salt in the potatoes before now.  I measured out the flour, and she scooped it and put it into the mixer.  She turned the mixer on and off.  She helped shape the cookies.  All with my help, of course.  The resulting cookies are quite good.  I was a little surprised, I have to admit.

This week’s big project, now that the deck is done, is to create Natalie a playroom.  Right now all her toys are in the living room and they’re taking over.  It’s impossible to keep that room clean because how do you explain to a one year old that EVERY toy has to be put away ALL the time?  It’s really unfair.  So we’re cleaning out the study, moving the computer upstairs to the guest room, painting it blue (I get  a blue room!) and moving her toys in.  By Sunday she should have a place to call her own.  I hope.

In other news I have officially started my half-marathon training program.  By following the schedule I’ve printed out, I’m supposedly going to be ready for a half in about September.  That gives me a little wiggle room for vacation and such.  I’m also glad that the training schedule allows me to work in some swimming and lifting.  That’s my kind of training program.  We’ll just have to see if I can stick to it.  And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll even lose a few pounds along the way.

Sunshine and summertime

I am, traditionally, not a big fan of summer.  I don’t like the heat.  I don’t like the sun.  I don’t like the heat.  I don’t like sweating.  I don’t like the heat.  But I am a HUGE fan of having the summer off.  It’s the perfect job for a full time working mom because as a teacher, I get a few weeks a year when I can just be a mom to my one daughter.  The rest of the year I take care of and pray for and teach about a dozen or so other children but for a few weeks a year, I’m just mom to one.  And that makes the heat all worth it.  We’ve already gone swimming half a dozen times, for walks by the lake where we saw turtles, a blue heron, and mallards, and played in the backyard with bubbles and the inflatable wading pool.  Next week we’re going to make bread and cookies and we’re going to read stories and paint things.  It’ll be fun.  I can’t wait.

On a slightly more … mundane note … I did something unusual today.  While we were shopping for pull-ups and toddler underwear (woohoo for potty training!), I saw a couple of cute shirts and grabbed them.  As we were getting ready to leave I put them back.  This, in and of itself, isn’t that unusual.  What’s unusual is the REASON I did it.  Why did I put those shirts back on the rack?  Because I thought I would look ugly in them.  Not because of the colors or the cut, but because I’ve come to the realization that it’s hard to enjoy the way you look in any clothes at all when you’re as frustrated with weight loss as I am.  And before you reach for your mouse to click on comments to tell me that I look great etc etc let me just point out that this is not a vanity based thing.  It is an adjustment to a life that doesn’t revolve around working out.  I know it’s been over 5 years since I had a regular workout regimen, but every day I still miss it and still wish that I had the energy for it.  I have never had a desire to be skinny per se.  But I have always wanted to prove that I can do things that others can’t, or that others wouldn’t believe I could.  But it is frustrating to do all the things that everyone says to do (I eat 5-7 servings of fruits and vegetables a day, 80% of the pasta/bread I eat is whole wheat, I drink skim milk, I rarely eat candy and dessert usually consists of an apple with peanut butter or a scoop of raspberry sorbet) when it comes to food and I went out last weekend and ran 3.5 miles.  These are not the behavior of a person who is, medically, listed in the category of obese.  I would dare anyone else my height and weight to keep up with me in the pool or run as regularly as I do.  Ergo, frustration in the extreme.  It’s the annoyance knowing that, until I drop another 30-35 pounds, I won’t even be considered for life insurance to take care of my family in case I croak, because my weight is a “risk factor.”  SO frustrating.  It’s not a vanity thing at all – it’s not a “I’m ugly, woe is me” type feeling.  It’s the frustration that comes with the fact that no doctors seem to believe me, nor can I actually prove anything since I can’t get the weight off (so it would seem).  I put those shirts back not necessarily because I didn’t think I’d look good in them – I put them back because I would FEEL ugly in them, knowing the potential I have yet to achieve here.  There is, however, an opportunity that is just waiting to be used: starting Friday afternoon I am OUT for the summer.  No school, little work (just here and there) and a little more time.  So I’m going to try and do this.  30-35 pounds OFF by Christmas.  6 months – that’s about a pound a week-ish.  I’m hoping that if I get back into a routine of it, I’ll get over the annoyance of having to “work it in” to my schedule.  We’ll just have to see.

Natalie has started to talk!  Kind … of.  She has started to use about a dozen words regularly in a variety of forms.  Up, out, go, school, momma, dada, dogga (doggie), yes (or “ye”), and, yes, it’s true, Gabba.  In fact, I think that other than mom (which was what she’d called me up until this week – not mommy or mama – no, no, MOM) and dada (which was her first word) I think her first word was, in fact, Gabba.  The funny thing is, she’s lucky if she watches more than 10 minutes of TV a day.  I think she just considers it a novel treat and learned how to ask for it in a hurry. But on the other hand, she has learned to ask to snuggle when watching TV.  She’ll snuggle only at 2 times – when she’s just woken up, be that in the morning or naptime, and when we’re on the couch watching TV.  The temptation is to watch more TV because she’s definitely NOT an affectionate child by nature, but *sigh* propriety of parenthood dictates I ought to do something … useful instead like learn to hold a marker or read a book.  Such is life, but every minute is totally worth it.  A thousand times over.

Contentedness

This afternoon we had Steve and Sabrina and AJ over to grill some good food (chicken and zucchini and squash) and have the kids play in the wading pool and in the sprinklers.  As I watched my husband grilling chicken, and my beautiful daughter playing in the yard with her equally handsome friend, as I watched AJ run and squeal and laugh and Natalie giggle and tease, I realized … my life is pretty great.  And it was peaceful.  God is good.  All the time.  I know that troubles may be ahead, but for now I am grateful for my husband and my daughter, my home and my church, my friends, and the contentedness and gratitude that lies in my heart.  It might get better than this, but right now, I don’t really care.  This … all of this … is pretty good.

My special helper – an interlude in life

Natalie is my special helper.  Ever since she could crawl she’d “help” me move things around.  Now, she hands me groceries as we unpack from our shopping trip, or takes things and throws them away for me, she’s even started to help me cook.  Last weekend after I had chopped up some potatoes to make mashed potatoes, she put them in the pot.  I premeausred salt and pepper and she put them in for me.  Later I gave her a cup with milk and she poured it in.  This all sounds great, but the reality of it is that she doesn’t think of it as helping.  At least I don’t think she does.  I think she thinks of it as “doing it all by myself.”  Or “following instructions.”  This morning she’s trying to feed herself breakfast.  I made her some oatmeal with maple & brown sugar, and cut up strawberries (fresh from our strawberry picking field trip yesterday) and mixed them in.  And she’s making a mess.  A huge mess.  She’s just learning to eat from a spoon and she’s pretty good at it, but sometimes it gets frustrating and she starts to use her hands instead.  Like I said, a huge mess.  The thing is, she’s refusing to let me help her.  I got a second spoon and was starting to help feed her and she pushed me away.  So the best I can do for the moment is let her eat, and get out the firehose for later.  But she thinks she’s doing it “all by herself” so that makes it fun.

A little about a boy

Tomorrow marks my last “teaching” day for this school year.  Our last day of school is the 29th but after tomorrow, we have a lot of special activities and very little schoolwork type things left to do.  One of my students’ last day is tomorrow.  His family happens to be going on a trip this last week of school and he won’t be returning after he leaves tomorrow afternoon.  At 3 p.m. his summer will begin and I will watch him run up the sidewalk and go home, to get ready to leave on Saturday.

He’s a changed boy.  It’s imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know him well.  As a boy who suffered (and I mean really suffered) in early childhood he boasts a hard outer shell, one he keeps with his big brown eyes and winning smile, and it’s hard to break into that shell to see the inside.  I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder to win a child’s trust and love and loyalty.  But when he runs up that sidewalk tomorrow, climbs in that car, and drives away, I know in my heart he’ll return in the fall … but he won’t have forgotten me.  And I know that because I have seen how he’s changed.

One Day More

Apparently I have not blogged for quite some time.  I have been, though, rather busy.

Since the last time I blogged I have performed in 5 performances of Les Miserables at school (pit orchestra – I am not an actress!), prepared and taken a team of 3-8 graders (actually, the middle school math teacher prepared the middle school kids) to the Math Olympics where we brought home 22 of 60 awards (4 schools competed), and then gotten caught up in the middle of all of the regular end-of-the-school year things.  This coming week I have the elementary spring music concert Tuesday followed by the performance being done by the high school theatre arts class on Thursday (I’m helping with technical design and direction).  And of course on top of all this is the normal everyday life of just putting one foot in front of the other and making things go.

I am, unashamedly, looking forward to the end of this school year.  I love my job and I love my kids, but the kids know the year is almost over, the kids are anticipating summer, and as well behaved as most of them are, it’s hard to keep their attention.  I find myself playing more games and giving more breaks than I would in say October or February, just to keep their interest.  It’s exhausting.  Especially since I’m not that creative!  I can also tell that all of us adults involved at the school – teachers, administrators, parents – are all getting a little weary.  We’re pushing for the end of the year and it’s taking more energy than usual.

I miss running.  I have been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to run much.  I run about 20 minutes, 3 times a week.  And do that, I have to drag myself out of bed early in the morning.  In fact, the first time it was so dark outside that I totally let my imagination run wild and imagine all things dark and creepy, and scared myself out of running at all.  But it will get better in about 2 weeks – my running shoes are getting dusty sitting in the corner!

Natalie cracks me up.  She’s just starting to use real words (as opposed to everything being “GAH!”) and sometimes she’ll mix them up.  She knows shoe, blanket, out, more, and about one out of ten times, she’ll manage something that sounds a little bit like thank you.  Even more exciting, she’s all into using the potty.  Actually, I take that back.  She’s not that into using it – although she gets really excited when she does use it.  She’s more into the idea of using it.  She likes to put her potty seat adapter on the toilet and climb up and sit on it.  She likes to nod her head when we ask her if she needs to go.  She likes to pull toilet paper from the roll.  As far as actually using the potty?  It’s about a 50-50 chance whether something will actually happen.

The last day of school is May 29.  We have 13 1/2 days of school left.  Not that I’m counting.

Stream of Consciousness Thursday night

Just random thoughts on Thursday night

- Of all the things that I do, the one that makes me feel the most “grown up” is drink coffee.  I have no idea why that is.

- Natalie has used the potty two days in a row – I think we’re about to head down the potty training train and I doubt if we can stop it.

- We had one of my all time favorite dinners tonight – Chinese Beef Noodle Soup.  Ultimate comfort food, but I made it because we had piles of beef left over from Saturday’s Easter dinner.

- A squirrel ate half a plastic Easter egg on our campus.  Wonder how he feels?  Or she, I suppose.

- One of the things I miss most about pre-mommyhood is the ability to carry a smaller purse.  I might have to migrate back in that direction.

- I miss running.  I want to get back to it.  Sadly, no time.  Strangely, plenty of energy.  Just, no time.

- If you like musicals come see Cresset’s performance of Les Miserables.  We’ve got the rotating stage and everything!  Next  Thursday-Sunday.

- I have been introduced to Trader Joe’s Peanut Butter.  I don’t think I can ever go back.  Must … use … sparingly!

- My daughter’s smile and laugh can turn my whole day around.  Never fails.  NEVER.

- For a benefit dinner and auction tomorrow night, I’ve been put on the auction block for a “Chinese Cooking Class.”  Starting value $100, for you and 3 of your friends. Who knew???

- After all my wonderful food experiences, nothing beats pizza.  Still my hands down favorite.  Is that weird?

- Except maybe fresh bagels and cream cheese.

- I never thought I’d be this happy to hear the sound of my washer running.

- I’d like to go back to the beach before it gets too hot.  Doesn’t look promising though.

- Am reading/studying Exodus.  Never realized before how really truly obstinate that Pharoah is.  Reminds me of me a long time ago.

- I do not think sleep is overrated.  People who think sleep is overrated are either not getting any or getting way too much.  Just saying.

- I wish my dog had better leash manners so I could run with her.

- Tomorrow is Friday — and I’m not all that thrilled.  The weekend is going to be way too busy.

- Bedtime.

I Remember

I remember when he was born and how I was the big sister. I remember when he was joyful and laughed.   I remember how I HATED when he cried.   I remember when we grew up and were always together.

I remember when I accidently kicked him in the head because he was playing and got in my way.  I remember when he pretended he was Superman and jumped off the top of a flight of stairs.  He had a bloody nose.  I remember when he locked me out of the house because he thought it was funny – even though it was only 14 degrees outside.  I remember he refused to crawl on the grass because it tickled his legs and I remember when this big ugly kid picked on him and I beat the other kid up.  For weeks I was known as the “aggressive girl” but I didn’t care – no one picks on my little brother.  I remember when daddy told us bedtime stories and he would fall asleep in my bed and have to be carried to his own room.  I remember one time he had an ear infection and was laying in his room screaming in pain, and I went and hid in the backyard because I couldn’t bear to listen to his pain.  I remember when we went to the same high school and he found his own niche, his own friends, and became such a gifted musician – so much better than me.  He always played better than I did.  He came to visit me while I was in college and I took him to dinner.  Only I didn’t have a car.  We had to walk, and it rained.  We got soaking wet.  And we laughed and laughed all the way home, while we were running in the rain. I remember getting the call saying that he had been accepted to Wash U – that he was coming to my school.  I was so proud.  I remember his first few weeks there, how happy he was to be out of the house and on his own.   He rowed on the crew team and started performing in the annual Chinese New Year Festival.  He’s awesome with a Chinese Yo-yo.  You should see him.

But I also remember the day that we found out he had scoliosis and had to have surgery right away.  I remember the agony of the back brace he had to wear.  I remember when he actually had the surgery and during his recovery I sat in his hospital room and played “21″ with him for hours on end.  One day we played for 6 hours.  Straight.  I never got up, and I never left.  He barely remembers it because of the pain drugs he was on, but I do because I was there.

And I also remember the day his first love broke his heart.  He had poured out everything he had to this girl, had treated her like the queen of his life that she was, had been faithful and loyal, loving and thoughtful to her, and she broke his heart because she was only 16 and he was only 17 and these things happen.  She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to, and I understood why, but he didn’t.  I remember his pain, his tears, and his discontent.  Everything changed then.  He might not remember that, but I do.  Because I was there.

And now, I’m not there anymore.  I’m here.  I have my amazing husband and incredible daughter and it’s not fair.  Because I’m happy.  I’m contented.  I have everything I could have ever wanted, everything I don’t deserve, everything that I didn’t know I wanted, and a Lord that fills the emptiest places in my heart, who fills my entire being with joy.  But he doesn’t have any of these things.  I only know what my mom tells me which is that he works part-time at his job, and spends the rest of his time playing video games.  She says he never goes out, and that he doesn’t have any friends anymore.  She says that she’s worried.  And I am, too.  Because he says he doesn’t have a reason to get up in the morning, that there’s no point to life.  How I wish he would let the God of everything carry his burden.  And I wish that he would find his way in this world, to see the beauty and compassion of people, to feel the glory of God’s creation every day.  I wish that he would understand that the taste of every bite of food is perfectly created by the Father, that the breath in his lungs is created by our Lord, that even if he doesn’t see it, God has a plan for him.  I want to remember in 20 years that he was joyful, that he found his way in this world, and found his way to Jesus.  Because I remember when he was my brother, and we were always together.

If music be the food of love

I love cooking and I love eating.  But mostly I love the smell of food being prepared (I learned yesterday of someone who hates the smell of ANY food being prepared – poor guy!) and what happens when it’s served and around the table.  Last night was a good example of that.  Some friends came over to make dinner for us (which, let’s just pause and amaze ourselves at the generosity and kindness of heart here *pause*) and it was easily the best meal that’s ever been prepared using our grill.  I should have taken pictures.

We had turkey burgers with avocado mayonnaise (spiked with lime juice and garlic) and roasted poblano chile relish (I may never ever ever use pickles again), grilled asaparagus (with garlic and balsamic), and pasta salad with tomatoes and (I think) feta cheese and chickpeas (JJ didn’t eat the chickpeas).  Oh and JJ and I scooped out boxed ice cream for dessert.  Kind of a sad ending.  I say all this not just to make your mouth water (because it really was just as good as it sounds) but also because I am now inspired to be more daring with my cooking.  What I really saw last night was bold flavors that actually tasted GOOD!  I have trouble with bold flavors – cooking with them, not eating them.  I’m always fearful that something is going to overpower the sensibilities and I hate that.  Nothing aggravates me more than over-seasoned or salty food.  But this relish and this mayonnaise?  HEAVEN.  So inspired, here’s our dinner menu for the week.  Hopefully.  If I can get my act together and get out of work by 4:30 every day.

Monday: Nonna Luna’s rice (a Giada De Laurentiis recipe involving lemon, butter, and cream – I’m going to see if I can do it with milk) with chicken and tomato and onion salad.

Tuesday: Smothered pork chops (my first venture into the world of buttermilk – I have never used buttermilk for anything before) and a simple sauteed spinach.

Wednesday: Chinese seasoned grilled chicken with cold sesame noodles and homemade cucumber pickles.

Thursday: Black bean quesadillas and avocado salad

See, my favorite people in the world are people who push me to do better things – not necessarily asking me to do them, but to be such an example that I want to do things as well as they do them.  The meal that was so graciously prepared for JJ and me last night has inspired me to be a better cook and the people that prepared it certainly push me to do better at other things as well and for that I’m grateful. I just hope my food turns out.