Vacation plans

It was a busy weekend at S & H's...lots of cleaning, painting, and of course, playing with Hurricane & Tornado. It's amazing how fast they change. I'd seen them last less than a month ago, and since then they have really started playing together, and showing signs of imaginative play. They love Sesame Street and can point out most of the characters by name. They are starting to count and will repeat letters aloud. They are very affectionate and love to sit on my lap and give me kisses, which I am rather fond of myself.

We are taking our vacation a little earlier than usual this year, and by doing so, will most likely find some better deals. It seems that anything you rent in early May beats the peak season rates. Nice! We're contemplating a trip to Kentucky and came very close to booking a cabin on Lake Cumberland only to find out from another site that dinner cruises had been cancelled last year due to low lake levels from work on the dam, and the corps of engineers estimate a 1-7 year fix. Hmm....not sure a low lake would be something to see...think more research is in order.

We're hoping to combine lots of lollygagging with a trip to Mammoth Cave and a little genealogy research in Wayne County. My gg and ggggrandfathers on the O side lived there, and I'd like to be able to confirm several connections that to this point have been made based on circumstantial evidence. Genealogy connections are sometimes sketchy - for example, one of the O connections was made from census records, and sometimes census records might name an individual by initials only, or by a middle name instead of a first name...whatever name the person gave the census taker was the name that was written down. So, sometimes it is hard to know for absolutely sure you have the right person. I'm hoping that a trip to the genealogical library in Monticello and to the county courthouse will reveal some new information.

So, I'm off to look a little harder for either some more information on the condition of Lake Cumberland or another lake altogether.

Heading to Indiana

This morning, after the rush hour traffic dies down a little, I'm heading for H & S's house for my monthly grandboy fix. And, oh yeah, to see you, too, H2. :) And not a moment too soon, because while today's weather is predicted to be nice, tomorrow will be downright ugly, including snow/sleet/slush, and several inches at that.

This trip is a power-cleaning excursion with the house needing to be up on the market within the next few weeks. And I'm taking a spare bicycle for S (really, do two people NEED four bicycles?), who presumably (depending on where they find housing) will save petrol tooling around between hither and yon.

I wanted to share the transcript from yesterday's phone conversation with C, who loves to talk to GiGi, filling me in on all the latest:

C: "Shoot"

GiGi: "Are you having fun shooting your basketball in the hoop?"

C: "Nice"

Gigi: "And you're making lots of baskets! Nice!"

C: "Woo hoo!"

Gigi: "And you're very proud of yourself..."

C: "Yuh you"

Gigi: "I love you, too, and I'll see you tomorrow!"

Hurricane and Tornado

Today was a busy day at the G household (as are most with two 2-year-olds). Tornado (C) was particularly busy learning new words, exploring new technology, and mastering gymnastic vaulting techniques.

Last night, the Gs headed over to friends for an Easter supper and the boys were greeted at the door with Easter baskets. Confiscating the M&Ms right away, H2 stashed them away to be doled out in bites here and there. Today C brought his half egg to H2 for an M&M fix, and she said, "Okay, but just a couple..." Satisfied, he walked away, ate his snack, returned, held out the egg again and, for the first time ever, said, "couple!". P asked if he was rewarded with a couple more just for being cute, but I failed to ask.

Next, C had employed S to rewind to his favorite part AGAIN and AGAIN as he only likes the songs on the Thomas the Tank Engine dvd. S quickly tired of this assigned duty and after "one more time", laid down the remote and walked away. C picked up the remote and directly pressed the right button to go right to the songs. Again and again. Somebody's been paying attention...

And finally, for the coup de grace...the boys love to burn off steam by jumping in the cribs, and like it even better when they can jump in each other's. Somehow, C managed to jump/climb/catapult right out of E's crib and found the wood floor of their bedroom rather unforgiving. H2 determined he had no broken bones, consoled him and let him watch animated basketballs on the internet, and very quickly, all was right with the world.

Hurricane, on the other hand, is the strong silent type, listening to his brother say new words and sometimes copying, sometimes not. He is content to play, not needing to watch the same Thomas songs 583 times in a row. And while jumping in the crib is fun, he does not feel the need to set any distance records and is certainly not interested in pain.

In Tornado's other latest twospeak, "...oh well...".

Yikes!

H & S considered coming up for a quick respite, but for several reasons, decided against it. And is was a wise decision, given that there is a good TWELVE inches of snow on the driveway. See below pictures of the driveway and the picnic table:





We went in to church for a while this morning, to take care of some Good Friday preparations, and by the time we left, after at least 500 phone calls, it had been decided to cancel the service. Many other churches had already come to the same conclusion. There were more cars on the road than one might have expected, but given it is MARCH 21, I think people are thumbing their noses at winter and heading out no matter what. Nonetheless, it seemed the prudent thing to do to cancel the service. I feel the worst for the choir, who has spent the past three months rehearsing for tonight, only to not be able to perform.

Happy first day of spring...

Well, when I looked out my bedroom window this morning, this is what I saw:





The only person really happy about this turn of events is the weatherman, who gets more face time on tv and must be trying for a Pullitzer, or at least some "best coverage on a springtime snowstorm" award, going by the urgency and the drama in his voice. P summed up how the rest of us feel with this commentary: "I doth protest this offense to my sensibilities." Well said, well said.

The bad news is it's going to get worse before it gets better. (What? Did he just say TEN inches???) The good news is it's spring, at least according to the calendar, and technically speaking, it shouldn't hang around for too long.

And all things considered, it does seem rather poignant to look out the window on Good Friday - the day our Savior took our sins upon Himself, making our forgiveness both possible and complete - and see a fresh, clean blanket of pure white snow.

Maundy Thursday

P is preaching both tonight and tomorrow night as the apostle John. The costume that my mom and I worked on for him years ago somehow disappeared from the costume closet at church. He tried several others on and summarily pronounced, "I look like a dork," which obviously would not help the angst he already felt about a first person message. For a simple trip to the fabric store and an evening of sewing, tonight he will be a new man. And can I just say here that sewing is NOT cheap…when I returned to church with the fabric and notions, I stuck my head into his office and said, "How much is it worth to you to not look like a dork?" To which he replied, "How much is this going to cost?" I then (kiddingly) invited Pastor B to step into the room so we could avoid bloodshed, to which he replied, "I wouldn't miss this for anything…it's just getting good!" I then explained the charges, what was on sale, and what wasn't, watched the color drain from P's face as I got to the bottom line ($71), and listened to Pastor B save the day, "oh really…that's not so bad…and besides, you can write it off…". All was good in the end, and if I do say so myself, the new robe, belt and piece that slings over his shoulder really does look smashing. And for as little sewing as I do, I really enjoyed it.

So much happened on Maundy Thursday - the washing of the disciples' feet with the lesson on servant leadership, the first communion (which sadly was also the disciples' last with Jesus); tons of last minute teaching by Jesus on everything from heaven to the Holy Spirit to abiding in the vine to persecution to what was about to happen; the prediction of the denial of all of the disciples on this night; a prayer vigil in the garden; and the betrayal by Judas Iscariot. I am thankful that today, with so much to ponder, I'm able to spend the bulk of it at home, being quiet.

Another head scratcher

Just a quick comment...I'm not sure what bothers me more...the recently revealed sermons of Obama's pastor or Obama's speech today disavowing said pastor. To continue going to TUCC for twenty years while patently disagreeing with the teaching/politics of his pastor (and in the black church, there's not much difference between the two) is puzzling. To be aligned with a church implies agreement with the positions of the church. To, for the sake of damage control, suddenly have a change of heart and turn your back on your church is, in my mind anyway, almost as troubling as the rhetoric that came from it in the first place. Frankly, I'm surprised it took this long for this "revelation" to hit the media. The first time I saw TUCC's website before Obama announced his candidacy, it made me a little nervous. A church with a nationalist agenda (no matter what color you are) does not strike me as the place I'd want my president to attend. I'd hope he'd have the best for all Americans at heart, rather than his top priority being the advancement of Africa.

One week down, one to go...

The big "Eggstravaganza" was a success, with lots of people and each of the activities pulled off without a hitch. Whew!

Now Holy Week has begun, and with it, the countdown to the agony in the garden, the horror of the crucifixion, and the glory of the Lord's victory over sin and death. My devotional guide suggests the following prayer for the days of Holy Week:

O Holy Jesus, eternal and immortal Son of God and yet partaker of our flesh and blood, become like unto us in all things except sin, merciful and faithful high priest and captain of our salvation, made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, fill our hearts and minds with the constant remembrance of Your redeeming love, for we make this prayer in Your precious and most sacred name and by the boldness of Your Holy Spirit, with whom and the Father You live and reign, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

I think that next year, in preparation for this holiest of weeks, I want to learn more about and then practice the disciplines of Lent. I think that Holy Week is sort of ignored by many Protestants, and I have been guilty, too. While I have tried to be more "prepared" this year, I think I have allowed the preparations for our Eggstravaganza event (and even the worship services to come) to overwhelm the depth of personal preparation I had desired.

Today marks the day that Jesus cleansed the temple, exemplifying the mounting tension between Him and those who were plotting His death. In contemplation of the events of Holy Week, I think today's remembrance calls us to the purification of our own "temples" (I Cor. 3:16) that the richness of the rest of this week might be fully received.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Of all the things I have had the privilege to enjoy in this life - from living in a free country to having everything I ever needed - all of these pale in light of one of the greater gifts I have been blessed to receive: the undying love and devotion of my mother, who celebrates her 78th birthday today. Mom, this one's for you.

My mother has always been there for me. Having been raised in the 60's/70's when most moms were at home, this was our experience, and our mom was the consumate June Cleaver. Having been a home-ec major in college, and being one of the hardest working people I've ever known, she did it all. She cooked, cleaned, sewed, chauffered, nursed our wounds and our hurt feelings, and more. She didn't baby us or talk down to us, but treated us with respect.

I look back and have several fond memories...coming home from school to find a snack and a glass of milk on a placemat on the dining room table...I remember my mom ALWAYS being home when we got home from school. In fact, so memorable were the times she wasn't there I can count them on a couple of fingers...my mom devoting the first half hour of Dad's homecoming after work to him alone, hearing about his day...after our first move to California, Mom hemmed every skirt from the middle of my kneecap (midwest conservatism) to about 4" above (west coast progressiveness)...we were not babied, but encouraged to be independent and make our own fun.

Even now, I know my mom believes in me, supports me in every way, and is one person I can always count on.

I love you, Mom!

New read

I'm finding Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction to be a fascinating read. He comes from a different spiritual tradition and has a different vocabulary, but I think that only serves to deepen the meaning for me, rather than detract from it. I'm trying to take the time to process and really think about the questions at the end of each chapter. I found this one particularly thought provoking:

What moments in your spiritual life stand out as crucial? Describe these moments succinctly and indicate their main intellectual, emotional and spiritual significance. I believe the first time I thought about a "spiritual" life was when I was five years old. I recognized that other people in our congregation had reached some sort of rite of passage that I had not achieved. They took the Lord's Supper, and I did not, and I felt left out. In conversation with my mother, and subsequently with the pastor, I learned that the other people had articulated at some point their belief in God and their desire to follow Him, and this articulation was all that was required for me to be able to participate. I did articulate my belief in Jesus (and in Peter, John and all those other guys, too). As much as it was possible for a five-year-old to have a spiritual starting point, it was such for me. I have looked back on this many times and have wondered if it is wrong to encourage faith steps in a young child (like baptism and communion) before he is able to understand their significance. In the evolution of my faith life, I have revisited the commitment made early on and have affirmed it along the way. On the one hand, I question the validity of a decision made by a child before that magical "age of accountability", but on the other hand, taking a child seriously and affirming the value of faith steps (as opposed to pooh-poohing them until they're older) encourages the spiritual walk. I am thankful that nobody told me I was too young to believe and that by baptizing me and encouraging my participation in communion, my desire for a faith walk (though perhaps not completely understood yet) was acknowledged and affirmed.

In the Southern Baptist tradition, the outer expression of the articulation of a belief (in the form of baptism) is the most important faith step there is. I think that the weak point of this tradition is that many view baptism as an end unto itself, rather than the beginning of a spiritual life. It is a destination instead of an embarking point. It is taking me a long time to figure this out, and to realize that the spiritual life is more than going to church, even more than reading the Bible and saying prayers. Realizing and articulating that there is a God who is bigger than me, who created all life is one thing. Knowing what to do with that articulation is another kettle of fish. Learning how to live a spiritual life through which this God becomes more than words on a page or words spoken from a pulpit is something else altogether. And it is taking a lifetime. There have been many touchstones along the way…times when I realized a deeper need to connect with this invisible God, times when something I'd heard a thousand times took on new meaning, times when I watched God intervene in my life in some way, only possible by supernatural means. The spiritual life is so much more than a moment of faith articulation. It is a journey of monumental significance through which the God of the universe becomes more than a belief system or a set of values…more than a place to turn when times are tough…more than the small image of him that fits inside the box I have created for him to stay in until I really need him. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the creator and sustainer. He is everywhere and in everything and when I take Him out of the box when I need Him and put Him back when I am finished with Him, I reduce Him to a manageable size, getting a bit confused about who is God and who is not. When I see Him for who He is, and realize that HE wants to be known by me, I am astounded. HE has provided everything I need for this journey, and HE wants to walk by my side through every moment of it. "Who I am, that you are mindful of me, that you hear me when I call? Is it true that you are thinking of me? That you love me? It's AMAZING, so amazing - I am a friend of God…He calls me friend." (Israel Houghton) Learning how to live this truly amazing truth is the most important endeavor of my life.

Good friends are the best

We had overnight company. Our dear friends D & C came through on their way to Michigan. This is parents' weekend at Hillsdale College and their two youngest daughters are students there. Hillsdale strikes me as a most unique place. When H2 was in college I don't ever remember being invited to her campus for a weekend, nor do I remember ever feeling like parents were welcome in any way, good for check writing but not much else. At Hillsdale, parents can meet with professors, sit in on classes, participate in activities...and they are welcomed by the school, and more amazingly, by the students.

D & C's oldest daughter (who graduated from Hillsdale last year)is now working at the Woodstock School in India as a houseparent. Her FIANCEE (who also graduated from Hillsdale last year) is teaching ESL in Taiwan, and popped the question when T visited him there over winter break. And I thought wedding planning halfway across the country was a challenge - they are halfway around the world! One thing they've figured out - she will have her dress made by the local tailor and will bring back sari fabric for her bridesmaids.

Catching up on all the news was great fun. But even better than that was the level of comfort in conversation with good friends, with whom is no need to impress. And meaningful conversation...the ability to cut to the chase and share what is important without having to warm up to it.

Yes, good friends are the best.

Astonishing, in more ways than one

Saturday night found me and my good friend LB heading downtown to a beautiful theatre for a much anticipated concert. Performing were The 5 Browns, five 20-something siblings who are all piano virtuosos. I had never heard of them, but the concert was advertised on NPR and after visiting their website, decided they were a must-hear. If it's not amazing enough to ponder five phenoms playing everything from Rachmaninoff to Gershwin, imagine hearing them play together. At.The.Same.Time. There were two 9-foot grand pianos facing one another at the front of the stage and three more baby grands right behind them, fanned out, facing the audience. They played several pieces all together (yes...all 5 of them), then other solos, duets, and our favorite of the evening...Clair de Lune, played by the three sisters on one piano. It was like listening to a dance - they moved with such grace, swaying in concert, arms gently gliding between one another, playing as one, with sounds that left us breathless.

We were not disappointed. Not by the music, anyway...

For reasons completely unrelated to The 5 Browns, though, our special evening was astonishingly interupted by a extraordinarily rude patron who, along with her husband and four children, marched in after the concert had begun and informed us (and the couple sitting next to us) that we were in their seats and we would have to move forthwith. (Editorial comment: while the architecture at the Pabst was incredible, the atmosphere was less decorous than, say, the symphony. If you arrive late to the symphony, you are out of luck until intermission.) After we were ushered to our seats (which was a touch confusing in itself, requiring several attempts to determine where we were supposed to be), we felt like President Lincoln, sitting in our box, and joked that we hoped we fared better than him in the end. After the second number, however, in walked John Wilkes Booth and family, threatening to kill the evening altogether. She insisted we move, we informed her we had been told to sit where we were by ushers. She insisted we extract our tickets for evaluation, and we told her that had already been checked. She insisted they be checked again, and mercifully, someone several rows ahead of us turned around and shouted, "QUIET!", at which point she, after reminding us again that there were six of them and four of us and six seats in our row and four empty seats behind us and it was our responsibility to move, said, "Fine. We'll move during intermission."

Being rather non-confrontational by nature, I was dreading intermission. Much of the first half of the concert was dedicated to the formation of a sensible and prudent argument through which I wanted to inform this woman in a polite and civil way what a JERK she was being. As we talked about it later, my friend LB was also composing comebacks in her head and had we been pushed, we would have been ready.

Fortunately, we were able to avoid a duel. As the first half wound to a close, an usher started to pass by in front of our box. Seizing the moment, I leaned forward in my seat and quietly said, "This woman is convinced we are in her seats and no amount of explanation will change that. Would you please move us to another section?" "Of course," replied the usher, "..we have several sections with open seats." Even as we were gathering our things and leaving, our antagonist continued her diatribe, arguing her case even though it no longer mattered. We could hear her going ON and ON as we were shown to our new (and might I say, much improved) seats. We had a better view of the stage, and when we looked up, right there in full view was the biggest and most beautiful chandelier I had ever seen. We could see statues of Beethoven and Wagner previously unseen. There were statues at the ceiling above the stage of angels playing harps and singing praises. And even as were being seated, John Wilkes Booth was still chewing out the usher, complaining that we now had better seats than her.

Simply astonishing.

Much more relaxed, and in awe of what we could now see, we thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of the concert, enraptured by the sounds of Steinways filling the air. We left the theater walking on air, scratching our heads over the first half, reliving the magic of the second half, and ever so thankful for the opportunity to experience such an astonishing performance.

Load 'em, load 'em, load 'em

Dear Grandboys,

Who knew it could take so long to upload ONE little choo-choo video? Tell your mom that I FINALLY got Blogger to upload it, and that one day she'll have to teach me the faster way to get this job done. I have a second video, but think we'll let one suffice for now, as long as THAT took.

PaPa took this video just for you, and we hope you enjoy it!

Love you,
GiGi and PaPa


Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing - Photo Books

Winter pick-me-up

Well, it's not quite spring, but it is March, and spring can't be too far away, can it? Yesterday, P and I went to the Domes, where we enjoyed the same train exhibit I took the grandboys to a couple of weeks ago. And of course, we saw the tropical and arid habitats as well. There is nothing like fresh blooming flowers in every direction, green grass, and warm, moist air to lift one out of this seemingly eternal winter.

So, for you orchid lovers, here is a treat:

I wish I could have gotten pictures of the boys when we were there together, mesmerized by the trains, but my camera batteries chose our arrival at the Domes as the precise moment to poop out on me. I did get a video that I hope to post, as soon as I can figure out how to do it.

Tonight, for another pick-me-up, a friend and I are heading downtown for a "5 Browns" concert. The 5 Browns are 20-something siblings that all play the piano, and all at the same time. Wow!