Jim asked, “Where did you learn about eggs?”

David shrugged his shoulders.  I think I actually explained rudimentary reproduction to them over a year ago when they were homeschooled.  However, I never detailed the sperm’s journey to the egg.  I couldn’t believe he remembered but he also seemed a little young for playground reproductive talk, but you never know.

I said, “That’s actually not all that inaccurate, David.”

“But the egg doesn’t come out of the man’s mouth,” said Jim.

Then,  light seem to glow from somewhere deep inside of David.  He looked at me with that oh so clever twinkle in his eye, “Does it come from,” (dramatic pause) “this spot?” He said, indicating his penis.

Never one to shy away from the truth of reproduction, I replied, “Yes, David, that is where it comes from.”

David, the light inside him now exploding into unbounded joy said, “That is so AWESOME!!!”

“But wait, how does the egg get from there into the woman’s mouth to make the baby?”

“We’ll talk about that later, David,” said Jim.

I am most grateful for the Pixar studios attitude towards film making.  It doesn’t seem as though they are out to make blockbuster kid flicks, even though I know that is probably the ultimate goal of certain movie ventures.  Their goal, it seems to me, is to tell a good story.  And they do, again and again.

The the thing about a good story is that it appeals to everyone.  You don’t even need a lot of dialogue a la Wall-E, which my David loves.  The cartoon preview before Up has no dialogue but it’s still a good story and quite humorous.  A good story has a definitive beginning, middle and end as opposed to a long string of potty humor gags and chases.  And these stories do appeal to children.  Children don’t have to be the crass little beings it seems that a lot of kid flick companies seem to see them as.  No, maybe they won’t understand the bigger themes in certain movies, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t  be given a good story.  Ana and David could, 5 years from now watch the Up again and derive meaning greater than the sum of the parts of the story.  And that’s the other part of good story telling, each time you re-visit the story, you find something different, something else to take to heart.

As a parent, it was nice to actually be able to ask a question last night about the movie, “What did you learn from Up?”  Ana and David weren’t up to that kind of discussion, of course.  But Jim and I had a brief conversation about what we could take a way from the movie.  Hopefully, hopefully, they will learn not to take everything, including movies, at face value. 

I’m not sure I could have such a discussion about a Madagascar movie.

Thank you Pixar!!

Anyway…as we got out of the car, David looked at the trash on the ground and said, “I wish everyone in the world was Orthodox so they would take care of the earth.”  I’m not exactly sure how he came to arrive at “being Orthodox” = “taking care of the earth” but I was glad that he noticed the trash on the ground and was somewhat disgusted with it.  We, have, on many occasions, emphasized that the earth is not *ours* but is simply on loan from God and that we need to take care of it.  I think we have even tied this together with how our personal sins don’t just hurt us…they can affect people on the other side of the world.  Perhaps David’s brain is actually maturing to the point where he can synthesize old ideas and come up with something sort of novel.  Now, that’s cool!

Later in the day, Ana asked about the rice we were having for dinner: “What is it?”  I replied, “It’s a grain, kind of like wheat.”  Her Dad told her that many people in the world *only* have rice to eat because it is all they can afford.  After dinner, I happened to be perusing an issue of National Geographic which had a picture of third world hands separating good rice seed from bad.  Ana looked over my shoulder and asked what I was looking at.  All of this led to an explanation of how ultimately, all life on earth goes back to dirt, water, sunshine and air. That’s what the seeds need to grow and we eat what the seed produces or something that has itself eaten what the seed produces.  “So, you see why it’s important to take care of these things…to *not* throw trash on the ground and dirty up the earth.”  Ana nodded at me.  I don’t know if she entirely gets it because these concepts are rather big, but she is starting to ask me more mature questions and I don’t have the answers to some of them.

I’m glad the kids are looking around and realizing, at least on small levels, that they aren’t the center of the universe.

“Birds of God, joyful birds, you, too, must forgive me, because I have also sinned before you.”  None of us could understand it then, but he was weeping with joy:  “Yes,” he said, “there was so much of God’s glory around me:  birds, trees, meadows, sky, and I alone lived in shame, I alone dishonored everything, and did not notice the beauty and glory of it all.”  “You take too many sins upon yourself,” mother used to weep.  “Dear mother, my joy, I am weeping from gladness, not from grief; I want to be guilty before them, only I cannot explain it to you, for I do not even know how to love them.  Let me be sinful before everyone, but so that everyone will forgive me, and that is paradise.  Am I not in paradise now?”  Dostoevsky in The Brothers Karamazov:  Father Zossima is relating a story about his brother and the truths he came to realize on his deathbed.

I was drawn to the family sitting in the booth in front of us where a grandmother, mom and tiny baby were eating lunch.  It was the grandmother who first caught my attention.  She was wearing what my grandmother would’ve called a “duster,” a kind of “house dress,” loose fitting with snaps up the front.  She had snow white hair, curly like mine but the curls were brushed out, longish and pulled up in pony tail.  The front of her hair was cut into bangs and kind of floated above her head like a cloud.  She had fair skin and her forehead was high, also like mine with a few horizontal lines.  She reminded me of the women I met during my time in Appalachia and, to me, she had a rare, raw beauty.

I tried several times to catch her voice to see if I would hear that beautiful Appalachian lilt in her speech, but never quite heard enough to know for sure.  Her daughter, who looked something like her mom, with black sleek hair, was quite deferential to her mother.  At one point, the daughter placed the baby (and revealed it’s sex by the pink clothing) in the grandmother’s arms while she went off to rinse out the baby bottle and refill her mom’s drink.  Grandmother and granddaugther sat together, the little one exploring the world with new eyes, the older clinging just so to the younger and brushing her older cheek against what I knew was the softest sweetest thing in the world to her at that moment.

Grandmother began to sing in a soft voice to her granddaughter, and I couldn’t help it.  I cried. Sacred moments can happen just about anywhere, if we just keep our eyes open…

The other morning I nearly cried when I stepped out of bed.  I think they reason the hurt so badly that morning was because I had spent the previous afternoon at the 6th grade dance at school, mostly on my feet. A dance, at school, you ask?  Allow me to explain…the 7th graders went to the DC zoo, the 8th graders went to New York City so the 6th graders got to have a dance.  Still doesn’t make sense?  Well, not to me either, but I guess I just don’t have that administrative gene…

I decided to go with my favorite class, the self contained special ed classroom.  These kids are the light of my world, honestly, mostly because they let an approaching middle age nerdy lady hang out with them.  And they like me.  They even danced with me.  We took turns twirling each other.  Unfortunately, the music didn’t really lend itself to traditional ballroom twirling.  And here’s another tale of aging.  I didn’t know *any* of the music.  Not one song.  Now, I have to say that all of the music was from the urban genre, which is not one that I follow, well, ever.  But in my younger days I did at least no *some* songs with an urban beat.  The other day, I knew none of them.  And the music was too loud.  There you go…I’m definitely beginning to get crotchety around the edges.

Now, I did get to hear one song that was really cool, the “Cha, Cha Slide.”  Apparently, it has been around for a while and even has a recently released “volume two,” but of course, being a little crotchety around the edges I had never heard of it.  But I wasn’t too crotchety to enjoy listening to it and wish that I had worn different shoes so I could dance a little more vigorously with the kids.  The speech therapist in me thought, “what a great song for enhancing receptive language skills.”  I couldn’t help thinking it.

So, after all that time on my feet, they hurt pretty badly the next morning.  Enough for me to look up Danskos on Zappos.com, send the link to my husband and ask which of the choices were the least old ladyish looking.  Once I start my new job, (with full benefits, Yay!  No more $1200 a month COBRA payments) I will find a podiatrist and figure out exactly what this is.  I’ve heard terrible stories about bone spurs. 

There I go again…talking about my aches and pains.  *sigh*  Well, as my dad always said:  getting older is better than the alternative.

Over, (but not out)

So, that’s what’s up at the moment.  Thursday is my last day, and then I’m on to new adventures.  Pray for me.  I’m about to get stretched in multitudinous ways!!

Forgive me, dear readers, for engaging in a bit of cheese. My family, after having been deserters for the last 6 seasons, became entangled in the American Idol web this season. Jim, happened to watch the audition of one of the contestants, then the unknown, Adam Lambert. His comment to me was something to the effect of, “That guy can really sing.”

I brushed it off a bit, thinking, American Idol, come on! And then, I watched him sing…and…dude could really sing! Adam is, to my mind at least, an amazing talent. The whole family was sucked into to the vortex that is AI and watched faithfully (the kids via DVR) every week.

However, Adam seemed to be more than just a great voice. For starters, it was apparent from the interviews and his reactions at comments from the judges, that Adam was a nice guy and truly surprised by and grateful for the praise he received. And secondly, one of his comments illustrated his long road from obscurity to stardom: This is to all the kids out there who think that they’re weird, people make fun of them and they feel that they’re different and they’re outcast. … You can do something with your life.  One can’t help but wonder what Adam’s formative years might have been.

As someone who has always felt herself to be a bit of an outsider, it’s hard not to want to cheer for the guy. Let’s face it, most of us who felt marginalized, remain so, peeking out at the rest of the world from the safe side of the red line. If you are one of those people, you might identify with the loneliness and the fear of showing your true colors. It’s good to see someone who was bold enough to step over the line, and shine.

Shine on!

The only time in my life I’ve ever truly wanted to commit murder was because of Ana.  I took her in for her 2 week appointment at the pediatrician and they, of course, wanted to draw some blood.  A routine heel stick, right?  No big deal.  Except that Ana wasn’t bleeding, and the nurse kept stabbing her with the lancet, Ana was screaming and I seriously wanted to kill the nurse who was hurting my baby.  Since then, I’ve learned to temper my mothering instincts. 

Ana has grown into a beautiful young lady.  As I told someone at church, I sometimes have to remind myself that she’s only 8.  You can have an almost adult conversation with Ana.  She likes to read (and still likes to be read to) and thus, has a pretty good vocabulary for an 8 year old.  She’s a dependable girl and I know I can count on her to lend me a hand.  Lately, she’s been creeping into the kitchen to help me make dinner, unasked, of course.

What I love most about Ana, though, is her great big heart.  She really cares for people, animals, whoever needs love.  And she’s willing to pour out that love, pretty much unconditionally.  Even her little brother, with whom she can become quite exasperated, she manages to love quite thoroughly.  He threatened to run away after a heated argument with Ana one day.  She came to me in tears, “Mama, I don’t want David to run away.”  I hope she always holds on to that God given ability to love the unlovely.  The world needs more people like her right now.

Blessings!

I guess maybe it is.  But why?  Have we been conditioned by the final kiss in the movies?  You know what I’m talking about.  The girl finally gets the guy, or vice versa, we see them kiss and then the credits roll.  What we rarely get to see is the dirty laundry, mortgage payments and day to day drudgery of marriage.  Have we come to expect that marriage is a continual flight of fancy and when we don’t get our  misty eyed “fix”on a daily basis, we should move on to the next adventure?

Somewhere between years 7 and 11, I realized, even though I may have verbalized it in the past, that love is not just some flight of fancy…a feeling that lets you float along and sustains you through tough times.  Love is an action.  Love is a race to be endured.  Love is putting up with your lover even when he/she drives you crazy.  Love is sticking around when you feel like leaving.  Love takes lots of sweat equity and prayer.

I, think, like a lot of people that I married with the idea that my husband and I would always be on the same wavelength (read *my* wavelength) and that we would sail through our marriage,  up born by some mystical current of “love.”  Yes, I was shocked to discover that my husband couldn’t read my mind nor could I read his.  We had to talk.  We had to fight.  It got messy sometimes.

That being said, 11 years later, I can’t imagine a different marriage.  No it hasn’t always been an easy marriage, but I don’t know of any that are.  And there is something to be said for keeping on keeping on.  Once the years pile up behind you in marriage, you begin to feel that foundation beneath the two of you…two becoming one… 

Keeping that foundation intact becomes important. To keep shoring it up with the sweat equity of resolving differences, accepting the other as he or she is, rather than trying to change him or her and appreciating the rare duty of surviving the dirty laundry, mortgage payments and sick babies screaming in the night.  Abandonment seems foolish, as though part of you would be ripped away in the process.  I’ve yet to see a movie tackle *that* kind of love…

Happy (late) anniversary, Jim.  Thanks for building with me!

I suppose it’s rather obvious that I took a blogging hiatus. I can’t even remember the impetus. Maybe I was sick back in February? Once I hadn’t updated for a week or two, we were into Lent and I thought, “maybe it’s best if I just shut up for a while.” There was a time when spewing my garbage into the void seemed like a good idea. Now, I’m not so sure it’s always for the best. I’ve always struggled with the dichotomies between portrait I paint for the world to see and the one that exists inside myself. What you see is not always what you get with me. I’m not qualified to decide if that’s a personality trait or a negative anomaly, but there it is. At any rate, for those few weeks of Lent, I decided to be quiet in order to study my inner portrait.

Jim and I have also been in the midst of a flip flop (along with many families today. The wife more often has the degree where the jobs are, health care and education and is taking the greater on the role of financial supporter) for the last 18 months since he lost his job. Slowly, but surely, I have been assuming “the breadwinner” title in our family. He will be the primary caregiver for the children over the summer while I work. Neither of us ever pictured this happening. I wanted to stay home and he was willing to make that happen. It would not do well for us to complain considering the number of people in the world today who are losing their homes and standing in lines at food pantries.

That being said, neither Jim or I like change and change is all we’ve had since November 2007.  First, I worked part time and homeschooled the kids. Then the kids went to school and I added about 5 hours of work to my week. Then I started working full time, thinking I’d be able to stay home with the kids this summer, which isn’t going to happen for financial reasons, so I’m looking for yet another job for the summer. Change again.

Normally, I’m a mess in situations like this. For the most part, I like things cut and dried, but that just can’t be the case here. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, unsure of what I might step in, but “onward” seems the better choice over “retreat.” Prayers have been asked for and they must be going up because I’m not freaking out. However, I am realizing the truth of the old axiom, “life happens while you are making other plans.” No we didn’t plan it this way, but here it is.  Anyway, the better choice is to county my blessings. A loving husband, beautiful (and healthy) children and friends/family who love, endure and pray with us.

It’s not “all good,” in the worldly sense, but it is “all blessed.”

Blessings to you, readers, if there are any of you left out there…

I did find a poem today which sort of describes my feeling about, but the language is rather indelicate and some may find it offensive.  Ezra Pound’s, “Song” now occupies space in my “Poem’s I Like” document. 

(What?  You don’t have one of those? Maybe you should.)

If you’re feeling adventurous, try googling…but you’ve been forewarned.

At any rate…I am ready for spring….

from my back porch.

Bright cherry red, perched

in a tree.

He stood out against the muddy red bricks

of the row home behind him.

I thought of spring.

And then,

a flock of pigeons flew from

a neighboring yard,

and chased my hope away…

Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee

Memory Verse: Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ” Matthew 11:29

Gospel Text: Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, `God, I thank thee that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, `God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted. Luke 18:10-14

The Lenten Triodion service book is venerated At Saturday Vespers the night before the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee. From now on, we will use its special prayers and texts. Lent is now three weeks away, but the church in its grace wisely begins preparing us for the journey we will soon take.

The story of the Publican and the Pharisee is the Gospel text for the Divine Liturgy on Sunday morning. In it, we hear the prayer of the Pharisee who thanks God that he is not like “other men” and then begins to tell God all the “good things” he does. The Pharisee’s prayer is not a good example of humility because he has reduced his worship of God into a set of actions, fasting, tithing, which he feels make him worthy before God. In a way, the Pharisee is “showing off” before God, and his prayer not only shows a lack of humility but he also separates himself from other men.

The Publican or tax collector is also praying in the temple, but his prayer is very different from the Pharisee’s. We read that he is “beating his breast” and asking God to be merciful to him, calling himself a sinner. The Publican is not showing off for God; he is instead humbling himself, and knows that nothing he does could justify him before God. It is important that we learn to be humble as the Pharisee was, because humility is a divine trait. God himself is humble, because He is perfect and does not need to “show off.” Anyone who stays close to God takes in some of His humility and becomes more beautiful. The Virgin Mary and all the saints are good examples of those who have become truly humble by staying close to God.

Jesus himself said: “Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:29). This would be a good verse to memorize and think about as we begin Lent. Humility or being “lowly in heart” is the foundation for Lent and is its fruit.

This week, in preparation for Lent, we will not fast so that we will not look at our actions as something to make us look good before God. As we prepare for Lent, we need to look at our lives and the ways in which we “show off” before God and our fellow men. We must remember the lesson the Publican and the Pharisee teach us. This lesson is illustrated beautifully by the Kontakion for The Publican and the Pharisee:

Kontakion of the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee 

Let us flee the bragging of the Pharisee,
and learn the humility of the Publican,
while crying out unto the Savior with groanings:
Be gracious unto us, O Thou Who alone dost already forgive.

*Sources for this reflection and those to follow:

Allen, Joseph. Reflections on the Issue of Fasting in Great Lent. Retrieved 8/2006 from: http://www.antiochian.org/1105801760?keywords=Great%20Lent

Hopko, Tom. (1981). The Orthodox Faith. Retrieved 8/2006 from: http://www.oca.org/OCorthfaith.asp?SID=2

Mastrantonis, George. The Great Lent: A Week by Week Meaning. Retrieved 8/2006 from: http://www.goarch.org/en/ourfaith/articles/article8126.asp

Schmemann, A. (1969). Great Lent. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.

Steenburg, M.C. (2001). Not Like Other Men, Reflections on the Sunday of the Publi-can and the Pharisee. Retrieved 8/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Sunday_of_the_Publican_and_Pharisee

Steenburg, M.C. (2001). All to No Purpose I Have Left True Home, Reflections on the Sunday of the Prodigal Son. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Sunday_of_the_Prodigal_Son

Steenburg, M.C. (2001). Sunday of the Last Judgement, Reflections on the Christian Fear of God. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Sunday_of_Last_Judgement

Steenburg, M.C. (2003). At the Threshold of the Fast, Reflections on the Sunday of Forgiveness. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Forgiveness_Sunday

Steenburg, M.C. (2006). John Klimakos: On Repentance That Leads to Joy. Retrieved 11/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/John_Klimakos:_On_Repentance_that_Leads_to_Joy

Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Andrew_of_Crete%2C_Great_Canon_of_Repentance

The Sermon of St. Tikhon on the Sunday of the Triumph of Orthodoxy. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Tikhon%2C_Metropolitan_of_Moscow:_Homily_on_the_Triumph_of_Orthodoxy

Gregory Palamas, On Holy Icons. Retrieved 9/2006 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Gregory_Palamas%2C_On_the_Holy_Icons

Seventh Ecumenical Council. (2006). Retrieved 10/2006 from: http://orthodoxwiki.org/Seventh_Ecumenical_Council

Gregory Palamas. (2006). Retrieved 10/2006 from: http://orthodoxwiki.org/Gregory_Palamas

St. Gregory Palamas The Archbishop of Thessalonica (2006). Retrieved 11/2006 from: http://ocafs.oca.org/FeastSaintsLife.asp?FSID=103303

John Climacus. (2006). Retrieved 11/2006 from: http://orthodoxwiki.org/John_Climacus

Mary of Egypt: Festal Hymns and Introductory Notes. (2006). Retrieved 1/2007 from: http://www.monachos.net/library/Mary_of_Egypt%2C_Festal_Hymns_and_introductory_notes

Mary of Egypt. (2006). Retrieved 1/2007 from: http://orthodoxwiki.org/Mary_of_Egypt

The Legend of the Dogwood. Retrieved 1/2007 from: http://www.the4cs.com/~cathy/Photography/dogwood.html

All Biblical Quotations: Revised Standard Version taken from: http://etext.virginia.edu/rsv.browse.html

I’m sure I should post something of deep spiritual significance, with Lent being just around the corner, but, I’m not.  Instead, I’m going to confess one of my guilty pleasures.  I really enjoy reading the “gossip” pages of British tabloids. 

There, I said it. Why?  I’m not sure.  I’ve always been a secret celebrity watcher.  In general, I enjoy watching people.  I can take a book to a public park with the intention of reading, but more often than not, I end up ignoring the book and watching the people.  We are such curious creatures.  Reading the gossip pages allows me to “watch” a particular subset of people who often have very peculiar habits.

One subject has been in the headlines since, oh, last week.  Did you know that Jessica Simpson ate a cookie?  Yup, she probably had two or three.  And now, instead of looking as if she might snap in two at any moment, she looks quite healthy.  In fact, I think she looks fantastic.  Of course, the Hollywood hounds have been all over her, declaring her “fat.”

While I would never hold Jessica (or any other Hollywood starlet) as a paean of virtue for my daughter to emulate, I would prefer that the rest of the Hollywood set she is bombarded with (a la the High School musical merchandise she sees at school) have women that look like Jessica rather than the typical stick figure with hair.  Ana already worries about being fat.  If you’ve ever seen my daughter, you know how ridiculous her feelings are.

Of course, it’s easy for me to celebrate Jessica’s new found curves, being a “fuller figured” woman myself.  However, It would be really nice to see more “role models” (I use the term loosely) for girls who looked like Jessica, instead of the scrawny little things to which we are usually subjected.