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Ramona

Ana snuggled up on the couch this weekend and asked me, “Mama, what does ‘crestfallen’ mean?”  

“Well, ‘crestfallen’ is kind of like being really sad and disappointed about something.  Where did you hear that word?”

“I didn’t hear it.  I read it.  You know like, ‘Ramona was crestfallen.’”

The much loved copy of Ramona from my childhood was laying on the couch.  Ana’s questions made much more sense now.  She’s in the “advanced” track at school, but even so, none of her spelling or vocabulary words are quite so picturesque as “crestfallen.”

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During this past blizzard, we found ourselves tired of shoveling and playing in the snow.  This necessarily left us with plenty of time to sit on the couch and stare at each other.  No really, we don’t like to depend on TV overmuch, so we are left with playing games, reading, arts and crafts and just generally trying not to get on each other’s nerves.

Around Christmas time, Ana began to show an interest in crochet, long a hobby of mine, and asked that one of her presents be her own supplies.  We found her a basket with several balls of yarn, a crochet hook and a set of knitting needles.  To my surprise, she was actually thrilled with this present!  I started off by teaching Ana the chain stitch, careful to show her how to position her hands correctly so that she wouldn’t have to re-learn the skill, as I did.

In between blizzards, I received my yarn crafter’s email newsletter from Lion Brand Yarn.  It contained a crochet pattern for a flower pot with happy little flowers growing.  I decided there was no better time to start such a project and searched my yarn stash for leftovers that would work in the pattern.  Ana, squirrely beyond belief, decided to join me on the couch.

She had been practicing the chain stitch for so long that it was time to move on.  We worked on single crochets and double crochets.  Often, I would get Ana started, crocheting a solid foundation row for her and then she would take over.  Eventually, Ana learned to start from the ground up, stitching her own chain and starting a row of single or double crochets.  Once she got to that place of independence, I said, “That’s it.  You know all I know.  Everything else is more or less a combination of those stitches.”

And, it’s funny how much of parenting is just like that, building a solid foundation of prayer and sweat equity.  Everything else is bits and pieces knotted together to form patterns from the foundation up.  Our children learn from us how to pray and work, and those bits and pieces that make up the rest.  One day, they go off and start their own foundation, somewhat apart from ours, though I’m selfish enough to hope my children don’t travel too far from me.  Moreover, I hope I’m teaching them how to build that firm foundation and make those bits and pieces into something beautiful.

Blessings on your day, friends.

On Sunday evening, our family attended Forgiveness Vespers at our parish.  Orthodox Christians begin this season of Lent by asking forgiveness of those whom they may have offended by thought, word or deed, consciously or unconsciously.  It is, for me, a very meaningful service and I find myself feeling almost joyful at being relieved of so many burdens.  Of course, it is immeasurably difficult to look someone in the eye and ask their forgiveness when you know, without a doubt, that you have hurt or neglected him or had some unkind thoughts about him.  Grown men and their teenage sons sobbing on each others shoulders is not an unusual sight, and yet we all manage to remain respectful and non-gawkish.  It doesn’t feel forced or phony, but very real.  I think we are particularly blessed to have a smaller parish for this very reason.  You usually know the person you are asking for forgiveness.

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Yes, there are mounds of what look like glacial ice in my front and back yards.  Frankly, I don’t want to talk about it.  I’ve never seen so much snow in my life and I spent three years of it living in Maine.  In fact, if I never saw a snowflake again, I’d be happy.  My poor children actually want to go back to school.  And they have Monday off for President’s Day.  I suppose it would take a constitutional amendment to send them on Monday, regardless of a scheduled day off.  Anyway, enough of that.

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A writer’s tale, there and back again.

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