Blessings

Marija and I were back at the Lutheran church again tonight, where we are becoming regulars on Wednesdays. But the pastor was a different one this time, an older one with a longer beard. He came up to meet me before church and suggested I bring Marija up for a children's blessing during Communion, and I said I would, and when it was time he called everyone up to pray and invited us again specially, "And bring Mary up for her blessing!" (She is Mary to most English-speakers around here.)

The blessing I'd never heard before, something about four angels standing at her bedposts and watching over her... I suppose the blessing will work even if she does not really have bedposts? And even if she will not necessarily be spending all night in her own bed?

This road

It's Good Friday today, so mothers' group won't be meeting in the basement of the Catholic church, where a handful of mothers and their older children usually pray the Rosary as I meditate quietly and the young ones play.

Last week, though, a mother had printed booklets with the Stations of the Cross and led everyone in meditations on Christ's journey to Cavalry. We weren't sure we would get past the beginning, since there was a sudden restless surge as children fidgeted or moped or fled completely, but we voted to press on. And things settled as we went through the stations: Christ taking up his cross, walking the streets of Jerusalem, taking the nails in his hands and feet -- and then the mother leading saw that her newborn had finished nursing and she needed to change him.

Marija was restless, so I walked with her, and a older baby went to climb the stairs. Meanwhile, the baby being changed cried a bit, but another mother led us further, describing Christ dying on the cross and then, as tradition goes, being taken down and placed in Mary's arms -- but then the mother leading let out a sob and had to stop. She looked embarrassed as she wept a bit and wiped her eyes and her son took over, and we got through Christ's burial in the tomb, the end of these pre-Easter meditations -- and then it was all talk of new pregnancies and diapers and whether our dear sweet babies are sleeping through the night.

Some things

Things Joe and I are currently managing just fine: cooking/eating, taking care of Marija, laundry, dishes, taking things in from the garden (a handful of raspberries every other day!), occasional walks, even sleeping (well enough most days).

Things we often don't manage nowadays: keeping the house clean, watering the plants and most other things.

Times I have been able to sit through church since Marija was born: 3 out of like 12. Those are the times she slept through it; more often, I end up walking her back and forth outside the sanctuary or finding a place to feed her.

I guess this is all in about the range of what I expected, but it is a little different to live it in real life than in imaginings. It is hard to imagine it has been just eight weeks since she was born; life without her in my arms seems long ago. People said everything would change, and many things did -- but it feels surprisingly like part of the same life as before, and it is.

Times when I'm sitting with the baby in my lap are good for prayer, but not as good as the head-swirling opportunities in the middle of the night, when everyone is quiet and I can really think.

Have had two nights of quiet dreams after a string of bad ones - tornadoes, lightning, deep cold water. Am feeling peaceful after times of imagining all kinds of bad things that could happen but probably won't. Maybe stories used to soak up the excess imagination, but lately my thoughts turn mainly to daily life and the people I love instead of the stories I used to breathe by.

I am trying to rely on the Lord

but trying harder some days than others.

I am weak

but He is strong.

This is something I need to remember.

Parenting III

The inside of our church, Sacred Heart in La Plata

Sometimes when I'm in church, I think of the love I get from Joe, or from Rose, or from some other friend or family member. There are some people who love so well that their love is sweet to receive even when you don't deserve it, even when you wish you could love them back better than you know how. And when I think on that human love, it seems easier to make sense of the vast love and attention of a perfect and loving God.

I pray I am a mother who loves her child with this kind of love.

Conversation of the day

At the doctor's office...

Me: "I don't mind if the baby holds on a little longer. I'm sewing something for it."

Doctor: "How far along are you?"

Me: "About halfway."

Doctor: "...You might want to work on it tonight!"

I am living in suspense. Certain signs point to labor coming soon and quickly, and I am glad I packed the hospital bag this weekend. But even aside from that, it is so strange not knowing when this life-changing event will take place.

Also, a woman at church told me that I look "too cute for words" today. Which is neat, cause I've outgrown my biggest T-shirts (am wearing one of Joe's instead) and I do not feel cute as a button.

Hymn time

I don't usually know the songs the nuns sing at church in the morning, but I knew this one!

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

Created summer

There was mist on the way to church and geese in the field along the way. The windows at the monastery chapel are open when it's hot, to let some air in, so you can hear the nuns and the cicadas singing at the same time.

I'm back before 8:15 a.m., already feeling hot and craving lemonade.

Parenting I

Joe and I were at my parents' house on Saturday, taking care of the dog and my grandmother while everyone else was gone. Joe played his guitar while my grandmother listened and I played my kokle, and Vecmamma even played a little herself, just picking at the strings.

In the evening, we went to  Mass near there, like we used to. A tiny little baby was being baptized, and after it received the holy water and the holy oil and the priest was talking about how wonderful it all was, the baby broke out into the most radiant little grin! Those nearby let out little squeals of laughter.

But I think I paid more attention to the  young couple in front of us. Both their toddlers were pretty squirmy, and they kept handing them board books and snacks to try to keep them calm and quiet. The little girl piped up when everyone else was singing, but her "la la la!"s were not nearly on tune as the liturgy, and she kept going even after everyone else was quiet. The father's attempts to shush her were in vain. The mother told their boy to be "quiet as a mouse!" but he didn't really listen, either. Then the boy threw up in the pew and the parents made a hasty cleanup and exit. 

(Note to self: when we go to church with kids, we should bring along something to absorb bodily fluids so we don't have to catch them with our hands.)

I don't really remember the sermon. But I really had a lot to ponder about parenthood, and the baby was kicking besides.

Joe made me stand up with the other mothers to receive a special blessing for Mother's Day coming up. On the way out we got little flowers -- marigolds! Mine is so pretty. I already planted it in a pot outside.

Maybe late, or maybe not

The Lord has indeed risen, Alleluia! Glory and kingship be His forever. 

It seems like everyone else has so many good things to say about Christ's resurrection this time of year, but I feel oddly incapable of joining in. Joe and I went to church Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and then for the Easter service Sunday morning, and even as I sang from the pews or the chairs in the Friendship Room, I was probably soaking up more than I was bursting forth.

Big in my thoughts lately has been the ways we are blessed beyond measure, even though my human pettiness sometimes seems bigger when I have colds and hard moments. But there is still this great sense of gifts undeserved, especially the one tapping me from time to time from inside my belly. 

And to have the goodness of this loving Lord reigning alive always, not only over this growing child, but over sinful me? Offering to wash us clean? To guide us in bright paths? To be with us beyond the end of the world and this life and everything? 

It was all so concrete back those centuries ago -- the Son who was whipped and mocked and lifted up to die, the folded burial cloths left once he rose to life again, the message of the Savior to his confused and frightened friends. And the bigness of what it all means becomes concrete here, too, though the scenes are not as dramatic. If only I knew how to see and share it better.

In the meantime, there is so much goodness to rest in. 

World waking up

At the monastery on weekdays, there are daffodils and cherry blossoms, and it is shawl weather again. Today Sandy was wearing something light red with sparkles.

At Mass on Sunday, we noticed a number of little girls in new pink jackets, and a few older women, too!

Spur-of-the-moment

The priest came by for a few minutes yesterday to bless the house yesterday. The was holy water EVERYWHERE.

(I say that with a grin, but Joe was a little shocked!)

Plus, we had a nice conversation about straw.

Early-morning surprise

I had nodded off in the pew before church at the monastery this morning when one of the women there came up to Joe and me, wished us a Merry Christmas (startling me awake) and then gave us a beautifully wrapped present! 

It took me a few seconds to recover from the shock. Joe, a little more collected, thanked her.

We both puzzled over what it might be and then opened it as soon as we left. A Christmas ornament! 

Some lettering on Minnie's skirt reads "1st Christmas together." The lettering on the package reads "2006," hehe.

I'm touched.

New folks

After Mass was over, someone announced that it was Friendship Sunday and there would be snacks and a chance to meet people downstairs. So we went and got donuts and juice and agreed on a mission: to meet someone.

I tried complimenting a girl on her hairstyle, but she looked distracted. Everyone was in little bunches. We went and sat next to some people at the edge of the room, and though they were talking, we eventually broke in to trade names. It turns out that one of the women lives right in our neighborhood, so we gave her a ride home, talking about crime and the weather and the way the town is repainting the water tower.

Success! 

Look, Orion

When we leave the house now to go to the monastery for Mass, we can see the stars as we get in the car, and when we get out again, the chapel is chilly.

Some days I wonder if it is worth going, especially on days when I sleep through much of Mass. But I never wonder on the mornings when we have the harp to accompany us. We can't see it, since it is back with the nuns, but it is sweet to hear and makes everything seem so lovely.

The blessings I get vary from day to day and from priest to priest. Today it was: "May the dear Lord bless you -- always." On the way back to our pew, we can see a cross shape in the stained glass over the door.

Christ's way seems so bright some days.

Early days

Joe goes to 7:15 Mass at a nearby Carmelite monastery every morning before work. I've taken to keeping his schedule -- early asleep and early arise -- and I've come a few times now. The nuns are behind a grille to one side, mostly out of sight, and you wouldn't know they were there at first if you didn't hear them singing.

I don't know the name of this nun and her guitar, but at least one of the nuns behind the grille plays guitar, too. There is also the sound of a keyboards as they things their songs, modern and sometimes familiar ones, the 1970s compositions found in the Catholic hymnals. 

The nuns do the Scripture readings as well. Tuesday's reader almost chanted as she intoned Paul's warning against Christians who seek lawsuits instead of reconciliation. Her voice was clear and soft and lovely, allowing admonitions and warnings to flow into praise as we laypeople in the pews sat and listened.

Thirty or so people come for the Mass, that they are like a family, gathering in bunches afterwards to joke about altar-server Dan and his love for Hawaiian shirts or to ask Joe about our honeymoon.