More of this same good stuff

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city."

Hebrews 11:13-16

Full days

My days are full lately. Some days my heart is singing at all the wonder in this house and around it. Some days I want to call Joe on the phone just to say "help!" Many days I want to sing and call "help" both, though not usually at the same time.

I needed someplace to put this, so here it is:

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful."

Hebrews 10:19-23

Ahh, Marija's up!

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.

Little flowers

Good things are growing here -- in me, though not of my making.

Each season puts things in a better order.

Little flowers can bloom here.

I don't have easy words to share it, but that might be okay...

Six stockings

I have been worrying a bit lately about my stockpile of stuff. It is on a shelf in our home, where I've lined up our very favorite shampoos and toothpastes and things bought for free with coupons -- or sometimes I was even paid to buy them! And it is nice to have things on hand so I know we won't run out before the next sale. But I have been thinking of things like sufficiency in Christ, the Christ who told us to give our things away, and I have been wondering whether I trust too much in my pile of things, even if they are very useful things I got for free.

This time of year gets me excited, though. At our church they set up a few giving trees, with stockings underneath you can fill with needy children and ornaments that tell you what you could buy for people at the local nursing home. Some of the gift requests were so simple, asking for toothpaste or nail polish remover. I got a few things and put them under the tree last weekend, with more than a week to go before the deadline.

Some of the stockings for the kids hadn't been taken when we went to church, though. I thought someone might take them at one of the later Masses, but I asked Joe to look to see if there were any left. I figured I could fill them with some extra CVS bucks I have... it sounded like fun. But I didn't expect Joe to bring home six stockings! (I definitely didn't tell him that, well, I was thinking he could just choose one or two.) So now we have stockings for one medium-size girl and five medium-to-big boys.

And to fill that many, we raided our stockpile. Toothpaste was on the list of suggested items! And oh, we had lots -- and toothbrushes, and sweet vanilla lotion for the girl, and lots of gum I'd bought during my chewing-gum-all-the-time days, and some candy. And with the last of the CVS bucks and a handy coupon that just arrived from JCPenney, there were a few toys for the younger boys and hats or gloves. Some really cool and hats and gloves! And a few dollars went to getting a good hat for the teenage boy.

It is confusing, living this life. Though I know some nuns who really do rely on providence to meet all their daily needs, and I admire their radical trust in God, I don't think that's quite how I'm supposed to do things myself, especially now that I have a husband and a little girl. But how am I supposed to do it? I know there is no such thing as guaranteed security in life, but being more secure some ways helps you be more giving in others... if I save money on toothpaste, I can put it toward better things. But seeking security on this earth isn't the point, and it is easy to get distracted by it. I wouldn't mind hearing anyone else's thoughts on these things.

I am glad to give the toothpaste away, though I know I will feel strange if I run out before the next sale and have to pay for more. I haven't paid for toothpaste in a long time!

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.

Marija Kristina

Marija Kristina, born September 7 at 4:34 a.m.

Asleep

The birth went well -- and very quickly. We have had many jokes about our Labor Day labor. And in the days since, people have shown her and us so much love... it's amazing.

I love her

Things are going really well. She and I have been learning a lot, I think. Joe, too. I knew he'd be a great dad, but I'm still awed as I watch him with his little girl.

A kiss from her Tētīts

She keeps us pretty busy... I'm able to post now only because Joe is changing her diaper and then starting dinner downstairs. And though she's brought me to tears once or twice when she wouldn't let us put her down to sleep, these first weeks have been pretty wonderful.

Praise God for His many blessings.

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.

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!

I know I shouldn't be afraid

Last night I had a tornado dream. They have come often since at least early high school, when I started keeping track. But this was truly one of the worst, with a sudden bad ending in a building without a basement, the kind of ending that leaves me lying awake with my heart beating hard. The feelings of the dream followed me a way into the morning, as sometimes happens.

Now I hear the area's under a tornado watch 'til 10. And I know tornado watches aren't a big deal. And I know God is in control and meeting Him isn't something I should need to fear. But I still think about how my house doesn't have a basement, and neither does the church for Bible study.

So I guess I am praying for fearlessness. And I am remembering all of our jokes about how, since tornadoes only hit La Plata every 74 years or so, Joe and I should really be okay.

Does anyone have a cure for bad dreams? I have had three in the last week or so, on a variety of bothersome themes, though I probably have even less need to fear phantom killers in the mountains of Afghanistan than I do hypothetical tornadoes.

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. 

Doing less

I've tried to live very prayerfully these last few months, more like the way I've always wanted to live. Even with a flexible schedule, it has been difficult. 

This is partly because I pray very slowly. This is partly because I fall asleep very easily, especially at some of the more standard prayer times -- early morning, late evening -- as well as after lunch. And this is partly because I do too many other things. 

This woman's thoughts about choosing what is best reminded me of these things I already knew. She (and the author she quotes) so perfectly describe my tendency to distract myself with fun and useful things, causing me to miss out on God-time, which is so vital and so much better. 

Ahh. I've been living life for 25 years now, but I'm still not very good at it!

Simply living

When I started college, my plan was to take off some year to be a missionary, spreading love and help and perhaps even the peace of Christ someplace it was desperately needed. But my grandmother got sick, and I realized that I -- not just anyone, but I, Daina -- was needed at home. I stayed, taught Latvian school religion class, and looked for a job in the area instead. It was all much less of a leap, but perhaps a better fit for my God-given talents.

I thought that I might someday live in a commune, but instead God led me to marry Joe, who is not the commune type at all. So we live in our own house, though we hope to have all kinds of people in an out of it in time. (We are still working on this.)

I always thought that I would live in a house of mis-matching silverware, but Joe really likes the matching stuff, and we got a set for Christmas. It looks very nice. We gave away most of what I had before, though I kept a few of the most beautiful pieces, the old ones decorated with hearts or stars or curlicues, for when I have lunch by myself. Joe and I hope to get much use out of what we have.

I am trying to live the life God would have me live, one based on prayer and good works. I fail miserably sometimes, but in many ways things are going in the direction they should. But I never cease to be amazed at how different this life is than the lives I have at times envisioned.

This article in the Washington Post Magazine, A Not-So-Simple Life, was really interesting to me, and not just because the main subject once thought of becoming a nun but didn't.  She too wants to pour herself out, but has taken the route I once thought I  might, instead of the route I have taken now. 

The online chat that followed the article was perhaps even more interesting for me. The members of The Simple House talk there about something I first read about in the words of Mother Theresa. The lovely old woman who did so much for the poor of Calcutta and the world noted that in the United States, a rich country, the need for material things is often eclipsed by a need for love, especially among the loneliest of the elderly people, those who cannot leave their rooms and have few visitors. But this need is everywhere, in every neighborhood. It inspires me to read about people stepping out to address that poverty of love.

By the way, I've hung out with the nuns mentioned in the article -- on a Friday, pizza night. They're a lot of fun!

Hymning

It seems like a good day to sing songs out of that little patriotic section in the back of the hymnal. Here is a song I found not long ago in a 1965 edition I bought at a thrift store. It is now one of my favorites among the national tunes. 

The tune my hymnal suggests is Hyfrydol, but Austria (as at this website, which will cause your computer to sing) may go with it even better. Fittingly, the song's inspiration came in Chicago.

Not alone for mighty empire, stretching far over land and sea,
Not alone for bounteous harvests, lift we up our hearts to Thee.
Standing in the living present, memory and hope between,
Lord, we would with deep thanksgiving, praise Thee more for things unseen.

Not for battleships and fortress, not for conquests of the sword,
But for conquests of the spirit give we thanks to Thee, O Lord;
For the priceless gift of freedom, for the home, the church, the school,
For the open door to manhood, in a land the people rule.

For the armies of the faithful, souls that passed and left no name;
For the glory that illumines patriot lives of deathless fame.
For our prophets and apostles, loyal to the living Word,
For all heroes of the spirit, give we thanks to Thee, O Lord.

God of justice, save the people from the clash of race and creed,
From the strife of class and faction, make our nation free indeed;
Keep her faith in simple manhood strong as when her life began,
Till it find its full fruition in the brotherhood of man!

By William Pierson Merrill

I have the gold and the incense...

In a typical night-before-Latvian-school scramble, I'm trying to figure out what item, already located in my own house, most resembles myrrh, which Wikipedia describes as a reddish-brown resinous material once used for embalming.

Quite a gift for an infant, eh?

Christ passing by

After dark on Christmas Eve, Joe and I were driving from church to my parents' house to celebrate when an older woman crossed in front of us at a stoplight. I was the only one who saw her as she passed, walking like she had a ways to go and pushing a metal cart, like homeless people sometimes do.

I didn't know if she had a home or anyone to celebrate with, but she was Christ passing by, in a way, and I suddenly wondered if there was anything I could do for her. Ask her to dinner? (But would she want to hop into my car for a 15-minute ride with a pair of strangers?) Give her a present? (But what could I offer?) It didn't seem right to just stick my head out the window to wish her a merry Christmas after she had already started to go, if I didn't know how merry her Christmas would really  be... 

So the light changed, and I drove away.

She has been on my mind. I hope her Christmas was happy. I wish I had parked and jumped out. I remember now that I had a loaf of banana bread in the backseat... 

Love came down...

Blessed Christmas, everyone.

Advent

For almost two weeks now, Joseph and Mary have been alone in the nativity scene with the animals. The Christ-child will appear on Christmas, and so will the angel to proclaim His birth. There will be shepherds -- okay, well, our nativity set did not come with any shepherds -- and wise men from the East to offer reverence.

Things are quieter and simpler in the meantime. There is no manger with a baby lying in it, but Joseph and Mary have each other. I like to peek into the nativity scene now, because Joseph and Mary look like they are waiting, but also content. They look like they are in love.

This time of year, I sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" a lot. I always seem to mess things up in December, and it is a good song for crying out. It is a good time to remember that redemption is near indeed.

O, come! O, come, Emmanuel

and ransom captive Israel

that mourns in lonely exile here

until the Son of God appears.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

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.