Quotidian

Today, acedia staring me down, I cleaned the fridge.

"Let us remember that the life in which we ought to be interested is "daily" life." We can, each of us, only call the present time our own... Our Lord tells us to pray for today, and so he prevents us from tormenting ourselves about tomorrow. It is as if God were to say to us: 'It is I who gives you this day and will also give you what you need for this day. It is I who makes the sun to rise. It is I who scatters the darkness of night and reveals to you the rays of the sun." -Gregory of Nyssa

New Year Looming

All's quiet on this western front with the boys wandering Joshua Tree. I enjoyed our Christmas visit but, as always, found myself philosophizing, "Why once a year?" Ah, the complexities of life.

Looking at the glass half full, the jolt of our little annual gathering accentuates time travel, reminds me to value of each moment. This year, the snap shot that stands out is of Will reading the Santa Letter to our collective—three children, two teenagers, and one young adult—my mind sorting through two decades of similar snap shots, all the while David Byrne echoing, "Well, how did we get here?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1wg1DNHbNU&feature=related

I watch Hannah and Cloe venture into the realm of tradition, birth of a family sub-culture. I smiled at year two of Christmas shopping leaving our generation behind to catch up on some much needed slumber. And the fact that Taylor was invited into the fold was heartening. I imagine Liam tagging along next year, Søren and Avery in the queue. I am thankful watching this exceptional group of young people who enjoy each other, thankful for the effort that we as parents have invested challenging our children to value individuality. I pray that they will continue to stretch the shrinking boundaries of "family" imposed by our culture.

And in the midst of all of this is that bittersweet thing that I can never quite put my finger on, that melancholy that is part of growing up, part of growing old, the topic of conversations scattered between presents and prime rib.

This year, Hannah's favorite gift was a toy. Woody. I savored the seconds it took her to tear through the Disney Princess Christmas paper, waiting for eye contact. In our family it's all about the eyes. I've settled the snap shot in memory, a vivid moment, a grown up moment. I found it interesting that this moment brought to mind moments gathered with you a day earlier.

I am often contemplating "church" and I am not alone, much of our conversation through the years has swirled around this topic. Don't we all scurry, toil, for church? Don't we, each of us journey to God on our own two feet? If I'm honest, my journey began a tentative, tumultuous searching for meaning to one very specific question: "If Christianity is being redeemed, is being adopted into God's family, what is family?"

Revelations brings an eternal perspective, Colossians reminds me I have peace with God. Galatians reminds me that, in Christ, I have the full rights of inheritance. Corinthians reminds me that I am sealed with God's Holy Spirit. I know I am forgiven, holy in Christ, adopted, embraced. But what does that mean in the here and now? What is family?

When Avery opened Buzz, I saw a theme arising, chuckled knowing that his companion Woody was tucked in a corner beneath my tree a few miles away. What is family?

At the end of our Christmas visit, a few moments before we would be packing up the car, as we began to store snap shots in the archives of our mind, Brian sparked a moment's discussion of Toy Story 3 which prompted me to chatter, "I wrote about that... I'll send you the link."

As another year winds down, I am reminded of my response to Sandy's painting, my strong desire to step back from the picture, to view the larger scene. I begged God for an answer in that moment, think this morning, struggling to get my thoughts on paper to share with you all, I might be experiencing a reply. What is family?

Who knew that Sandy and Will giving Avery Buzz Lightyear scattered conversations with Tracey trying to make sense of children growing up and Brian's well timed comment about Toy Story 3 would remind me of the criticism that plagued the writers of LOST. Here are men that were slammed for never providing enough answers and when they did they were criticized for not providing "right" enough answers. Fact is, the many mysteries that they provided often frustrated viewers who wanted pat answers. Sound familiar? The scowling always reminded me of the age old criticism of our Creator. But in this instant I am seeing clearly that the writers of LOST, those fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants-follow-a-lead-creators began to shape for me an image of Christian family that I can comprehend, that I can wrap my heart around. The characters in LOST were not born into family, they were scripted to family.

I am grateful to be cast in a scene or two with each of you. Here's to another year, camera's anticipating snap shots to come.

Time Out

While the boys are away...

Hannah and I watched, well, 8 movies, one twice.

(It's a girl thing.)

Week 30

12.19.10 to 12.20.10

Five months and then some…

Evening

I am looking forward, for the first time in months and months and months, to an all day Sabbath. I am remembering Christmas baking with my grandma—fruitcake like Truman Capote writes about, macadamia banana bread, Madelines, and strawberry teacakes. I am remembering baking when the babies were, well, babies… but the time between then and now is a blur.

Five months have pa

ssed, chasing Sabbath has dulled to a crawl, came to a halt the weekend of July 17^th when I entered Summer’s Spin Out. Three conferences, a speaking engagement, a side business or two, moving my school two weeks before classes were scheduled to begin, and entering the last leg of my MFA journey, well, this mid-week Sabbath is the first time I’ve caught my breath. I am not exactly ready for a chase, but I am not ready to give up either. I am learning. Must be Mercy.

Now, time to mix up a batch of hot fudge with my boys.

Morning

I am so excited for Christian to arrive with her darling babies, Hannah and the boys have been looking forward to the visit as much as me.

There are eight children (well, okay my Hannah is 21, but she is my adult child) and two adults in the house and the calm is loveliness. The kitchen smells of Christmas—Madelines, Christmas sprinkle cookies, almond shortbread, chocolate peppermint drops, and the boys’ favorite, chocolate and vanilla mice cookies!

The time was gloriously slow paced, the conversation distracted by darling chirping children, was rich. The day for me was salve.

Evening

At the end of a merciful day, I take time to listen to the rain, remember something I once read, Shakespeare, I think, “The quality of mercy is not strained… it is a gentle rain,” and am thankful.

Week 28

07.10.10 to 07.11.10

The drive alone to San Luis Obispo was Sabbath… (thankfully) forced upon me once again.

The traffic would not give us a break, then there were the accidents, the ones that looked thankfully minor—two of them—that slowed traffic to a halt so drivers could take a little peek.

We talked about fearing God & what we learned about faith from LOST.

We talked which composers favored texture, which favored rhythm, which favored melody, and which harmony, and then we listened.

We talked about creative goals.

We talked about how much we love our drives.

Morning

The morning goes by in a wink—there is a celebration at hand! Evelyn is graduating...

I watched Sara (and helped where I could) set the stage:

A feast of color, the Impressionists would be proud!

The Girls got ready:

And then Sara made me cry with that yellow pad again:

And we all cheered for Evelyn, in threes of course— Hip Hip Hurrah!

Evening

Tonight I realize it’s taken me years to comprehend, but today was a family gathering.

Week 27

07.03.10 to 07.04.10

Much time off… with a little help from our friends.

Evening

Dinner and a DVD, Film Noir, no less, that was how the weekend of the Fourth.

Morning

Fourth of July morning always begins gathered

round the table with family, friends, pancakes, bacon, and a bowl of fresh fruit. After breakfast the children scattered, enjoyed some playtime while the adults shot off some after breakfast fireworks in the form of a heated political debate. But don’t get me wrong, I love a good respectful thought provoking debate.

Mid-morning the dads scooped up the children minus one and drove off to the local firecracker stand for sparklers and then some. And while they did that I took Taylor to perform his original composition for piano, "Industrial Animation" at an awards ceremony... Taylor won a state wide competition... again!

Evening

Yes, there was the traditional BBQ—chicken, salad, corn-on-the-cob, and garlic bread. Yum. After dinner and before homemade cookies, the boys dug into the firecracker purchases from earlier in the day, and began the annual tradition of unwrapping an entire package of Poppets each and crafted the innards to a monster Poppet.

As soon as they had completed their mission, it was time the group headed over to a secret location where fireworks from several locations in the city can be spied on simultaneously.

After that? Well, that was when the backyard fun began.

More Goodbyes

Hannah took the boys to see Toy Story 3 during my Residency. This was a long anticipated event, I was sorry I could not participate.

“Mom you will LOVE this movie, when can we go?”

Being preoccupied with poems and paperwork, “…ummm, soon.”

“No, you will really LOVE it… I cried mom… so when can we go?”

“Soon, really, I just need to check these responsibilities off my list.”

That was that. I trust my daughter’s judgment. She is a deep thinker with her finger on the pulse of pop culture, knows when something needs this artist’s complete attention. Some of my favorite movies have been at her suggestion, Henry Poole was Here, Lars and the Real Girl. But Toy Story 3, really? You want me to add that one to the list?

About a week later she cornered me in the bathroom to read a review from Entertainment Weekly that began: “At a screening of Toy Story 3, I was sitting between a couple of colleagues—a pleasant situation that, by the end, turned just a little uncomfortable when I realized how hard I was working to conceal my tears. I’m not just talking about shedding a tear or two, or having that Brian’s Song lump in your throat. I’m talking about that soppy awkward thing where you make sounds.” I laughed tears and listened on. Phrases like, “beautiful transition ending for Andy’s childhood” and “beautiful full-circle ending” make me slightly verklempt. When Hannah read aloud, “The spirit of imagination hasn’t gone out of our world,” I felt my the throat swell, the tears release. I actually cried listening to an article written by a man trying to comprehend his own Toy Story tears.

“Okay, we’ll go the Tuesday after the 4^th of July.”

And we did.

So I’m sitting next to my 20-year-old daughter watching a movie about Andy who is getting ready to go off to college remembering the day we first met him in the theater back when she was 6. The story is touching, but I’m fine… fine until Buzz looks into Cowgirl Jesse’s eyes and reaches for her plastic hand as they head toward flames, then Jesse reaches for Bull’s Eye, then Rex reaches one of his little ineffective arms for Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, and Slinky is reaching for someone in the mix. When Woody finally reaches to close the circle, well, that's when I too am desperately muffling sounds.

What was that?!!!

After 24 hours to catch my breath I’ve decided it was LOST. Yes, that’s right, LOST. Again, Hannah the muse clipped an article from EW, left it on her mother the poet’s desk, just the right fodder: “LOST passed into the good night of television history on May 23 with an emotional and mystical series capper that divided fans into camps of eye-weepy love and eye-rolling loathe.” I suppose I fell into the first camp and must admit the tears were, well, they were cathartic, the very same cathartic tears that rolled for Woody.

Bottom line, LOST was television that dared me to think deeply, emotionally... spiritually. The Toy Story Trilogy dares me to do the same. I mean, think about it… Jack… Woody… introspection, letting go, sacrifice, redemption...

...best movie of the summer, Sabbath for sure.