good things, thanksgiving things

I am thankful for...

cranberry sauce, eggnog, and stuffing (albeit not at the same time),

a home to go home to,

my chiropractor,

little, tiny, baby socks (oh-so-cute!),

turkey drumsticks (I am not ashamed to say that this is my favorite part of the turkey),

inspiring friends,

a new engine in my car,

making/shopping for gifts,

peppermint tea,

fun movies during the holidays,

and seeing people I love, love, love.

everyday spirituality

Andre Dubus is one of my favorite contemporary authors. He's probably best known for a short story called "Killings" that was adapted into the film In the Bedroom. Anyhow, I'd begun reading Dancing After Hours about a year ago, didn't finish (you know how too many books on the reading list can distract you) , and just recently picked it up again to finish what I'd started. And man, did I just fall in love with his writing all over again. He treats his characters with such grace, and seems to effortlessly be able to weave the spiritual into the ordinary...Reading him again was like food for my soul. I see God popping up all throughout his words.

The story "Out of the Snow" begins with a husband (Ted) and wife (LuAnn) getting out of bed to get ready for the day ahead of them. LuAnn wakes the kids to get them ready for school then goes to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast of cinnamon toast and oatmeal for her family. Here's a quote, one of my favorite parts of the story:

She had told Ted she must learn to be five again, before time began to mean what one could produce in passing; or be like St. Therese of Lisieux, who knew so young that the essence of life was in the simplest of tasks, and in kindness to people in your life. Watching the brown sugar bubbling in the light of the flames, smelling it and the cinnamon, and listening to her family talk about snow, she told herself that this toast and oatmeal were a sacrament, the physical form that love assumed in this moment, as last night's lovemaking was, as most of her actions were. When she was able to remember this and concentrate on it, she knew the significance of what she was doing; as now, using a pot holder, she drew the pan from the oven, then spooned oatmeal into bowls her family came from the dining room to receive from her hands (177).

The small things that we do for each other are not, in fact, small things. These visible signs of grace are anything but small! Anything done in love is a holy act because you are giving a piece of God away. I like that Dubus uses the word sacrament to describe a breakfast, and I like the priestly imagery of "her family [coming] from the dining room to receive from her hands." The great thing is, we don't have to be a priest to administer sacraments, and we don't have to wait for one day of the week to give/receive them.

Beautiful, just beautiful! I love that we have a God who has woven himself into even the minutest aspects of our lives. He is so accessible, but we can make knowing him into such a struggle.

But all we have to do is turn, and he's there.

I don't know if you can read that, but it says, "May the remembrance of Jesus be united to your breathing."

Wow. Okay, I'm not even sure I have much to say about this other than, Gollum would've been an amazing rapper. Check out his bling. I mean, he was the king of bling for awhile. He held onto that ring for hundreds of years, right? Now if only someone would fatten him up a little, give him a little home cooking...

what makes home, home?

I am homesick. It's funny because several years ago, I would've thought it was silly to want to live and settle in an area one was familiar with and that was close to family. But now that I've moved away, I find myself longing for this place called home. What is home exactly anyway? I mean, I live in community with people I love dearly, people I consider my brothers and sisters, people I consider family. I am at home with them, and yet, I keep wanting to be near the things that I'd grown accustomed to in Atlanta--family being just a short drive away, knowing my way around really well, friends who've known me since middle school, sisters with children, and a host of other things that make a geographical location near and dear to one's heart. Sometimes I think I'm being overly emotional about this, but on days like today I don't mind letting it out.

I thought growing up military had prepared me for this. I'm good at adapting. I'm good at letting go of any ties I might have (or, unfortunately, just not making them at all). Well, I guess you just never know how you're actually going to feel when the time comes.

At least we're going back for Thanksgiving. I can't wait. I've actually been dreaming about the food and being able to eat as much as I want--nausea free. I woke up in the middle of the night and said to Mike, "mango chutney," because I'd been dreaming about eating it. Oh turkey and stuffing...I'm drooling, really.

So, that's a funny note to end on, but I'm done here. Nap time.

Just Tellin' It Like It Is

Well, I think I can finally announce the news since it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who should already know...

I'm pregnant! Micah, who's known about it for several weeks now, said to me last night, "Wow. It just hasn't sunk in. You two are having a baby!"

And I guess I feel the same way. It's been hard for me to really get excited since I had some complications in the beginning, and for awhile I thought I would miscarry. It was a difficult several weeks, but now that's given way to a different kind of difficultness--the normal pregnancy woes--nausea, fatigue, and I almost hate to say this, but I do miss having a glass of wine. And my emotions are on such a roller coaster. Blame the surging hormones I guess, but I could cry just because the laundry is piled as high as my expanding waist, the dishes need to get done, and don't even get me started on the state of the rest of the house...

Then nevermind the fact that work (as in, work that will give us money in return) still needs to be done, and I never feel like cooking now so we eat out a lot (and this makes me feel bad for the baby), and oh yeah, once upon a time I was working on a novel...

You may laugh and say, "Wake up and smell the coffee sweetie. This is life," and you'd be right. I wish I could laugh at myself, but the truth is, I am so afraid.

I am afraid of having to give myself away, so completely and so totally to this little life that will be dependent on me.

I am afraid I won't get to grad school, and I'll stop writing.

I am afraid I haven't been a wife long enough to know how to be a wife and a mother.

I am afraid of being the only one of my friends that's a mom and of being in a new city where I don't know any other moms.

I am afraid of a world that will consist of messy diapers, sleepless nights, crying, spitting up, and sore breasts and bad hair for mom.

But I have been reminded that I don't have the baby yet, and once I do, that will change everything.

So in a way, I can't wait for the time to be up, and I get to meet this little person who's going to change my life.

I get to fall in love again.

That's something to be excited about.

tears

This may sound strange, but I think it's good to see other people cry. I'm not happy that their emotions are bringing them to tears, but there's just something so moving and humanizing about watching someone cry. You are catching a glimpse of their vulnerability, and the tears soften them somehow. Tears of pain can be so beautiful because they are a physical representation of someone's being, their real self open and exposed to you. I think I might sound off-kilter in a creepy, voyeuristic way, and hey--maybe I do. I just think it's a good thing to see others let their guard down (and of course it's good for me to do the same).