Adventuring

Dear friends, won't you pardon my absence? We have been adventuring in a place where magic and wonder abound, and I am sitting at home after a long journey savoring every last memory. I will be here in this space in the coming days doing more of the same, and I do hope you will join me.

My Summer To-Do List

-plant and enjoy a vegetable garden
-take children out to play in the rain (thanks, Ben)
-buy a beautiful night gown and wear it
-go swimming in a creek
-make and eat many popsicles (thanks, Em)
-get tan lines
-oh wait, get rid of tan lines

-plant flowers in window boxes
-eat a lot of ice cream
-go to the 4-H fair
-buy as many peaches as possible and freeze them
-take a break at least once an hour to delight in my children (this is one of my favorites!)
-put up a clothes line

-dress Selma up in outrageous bandannas
-keep flowers alive in window boxes
-make pesto with our basil once a week

And my, here we find ourselves on the cusp of August. I've got to get busy! How are your summer to-do lists progressing?

Unveiled

With our faces unveiled, all of us, reflecting as in a mirror the glory of God, are being transformed from splendor to splendor.

-2 Corinthians 3:18

Unexpected Beauty

I gave her a handful of flowers, hoping it would keep her busy while I unloaded the dishes. She disappeared, quiet, entertained. I assumed I would sweep the petals off of her bedroom floor later in the morning.

I found her flowers on my way to her bedroom. I stood there for a moment, totally still, realizing that even such small hands are looking for beauty.

Fresh Figs

Soft, tender, sweet, and a little gritty, fresh figs never cease to amaze me. I still remember the first one I tried: a lone ripe fig in the garden of a family that took in and cared for pregnant teens. "Would you like to try one?" I was stunned, expecting the cloying sweetness of a dried fig and instead receiving subtle perfection. I had never tasted something as magnificent.

When we were hoping to get pregnant before Zosia was born, I held superstitious beliefs about fresh figs. All those tiny seeds, so gracefully conveyed in a single fruit. Could there be a more suited symbol of fertility? I devoured them straight from the store, my hopes and dreams for a child growing with each delicate bite.

I still eat figs with caution, nervous about the power they contain. And now, awe. Creating, sustaining such life. It takes such steadfast energy and commitment, but the fig does this with grace, imagination, charm.

I spend the year scanning the produce aisles of the grocery store, hoping for that perfect month when figs will arrive; unlike so many other fruits, there's just a tiny window that fresh figs can be purchased-- a magical midnight bloom. And yesterday was this day. And oh, I am happy.

Cleanup

I don't know which was more fun... allowing the kids to draw all over the sliding door all morning, or watching my eager Zosia spend the afternoon cleaning it up. I'm glad to know there's at least one person in this household maintaining order. There clearly is a divine purpose to different temperaments.

Homemade Bread Machine Buns

Routines have a way of soothing the spirit, and there is no routine that is more therapeutic for me than baking. The problem is, with a wee one on my hip for most of the day, baking bread has been on the back burner (no pun intended) for a while now. It was a friend of mine who reminded me of the existence of the bread machine. And wait... don't we have one in the basement, a hand-me-down from my mom who purchased it for cheap at a yard sale? And just like that, our home is filled with the aroma and taste of homemade bread, and I am reminded that often, technology is quite a nice thing.

I took a queue from my friend: throw the ingredients in the machine every day or two while the girls are eating breakfast, turn on the switch, and bread will be ready by lunch. And if you're feeling ambitious, you can even make a second batch in the afternoon, which yesterday meant homemade hamburger buns for dinner (use the dough cycle). You might even score bonus points with the husband, especially if you treat him to white flour.

Scarcity, Abundance

It has been a time of scarcity and abundance.
scarcity: sickness, fussiness (mine or my childrens', I don't know) impatience, weakness, questioning the merit, the purpose of this whole motherhood thing

and, thank God, abundance: a prayerful husband who is my foundation, clear and wise voices, a new day, a stronger commitment than ever to living the Gospel in this family of mine, and endless forgiveness

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:22,23,25)

Peace to this household

"Into whatever house you enter, first say,
'Peace to this household.'
If a peaceful person lives there,
your peace will rest on him;
but if not, it will return to you. "
Luke 10: 5-6

*Photo credit my mother-in-law

Hiking

My heart still longs for the beautiful potential of a hike: the miles under my feet, the many views in my memories, the discovery of beauty. So we snuck away, us two delinquent parents, and made a morning of it, going to our favorite hiking spot in the area, one we walked on many times as teenagers, sneaking away for kisses behind trees.

And it was all still there, just as I remembered it: the muddy path that emerges onto a beautiful stream, the big rocks that are perfect for hopping, the swimming hole, the surprising opening to the Potomac River. We spent the morning chasing each other up hills (note to self: Ben always wins), dipping our feet in cold water, and eating what could only be described as a peanut butter and jelly ball. And the trees are still just fine for sneaking kisses.

A Friday to Celebrate

We have a lot to celebrate around here: a birthday (71st!), the return of our beloved Aunt Elisabeth to the area, and some exciting changes coming up for our little family, too (don't worry! I'll fill you in as soon as I'm at liberty).

And we celebrated together on the deck with peach fizz, rosemary roasted potatoes, thinly sliced steak strips, strawberry salad, green beans, carrot cake, and sparkling wine. Ooh, what a feast! Only to be beat by the good company.

In the Kitchen

This mild weather has had me in the kitchen-- roasting chicken, baking bread, and inviting not one but two little bodies up to the counter to help: it's a bit of an initiation for Lily, who has never really successfully participated in any of our kitchen antics. And she did very well, thank you very much. After all, a little raw bread dough is good for the countenance, right? (I eventually wisened up and introduced some goldfish for the kids to snack on... even this mom has her limits.)

Wreaths

I grew up celebrating Wianki; the Festival of Wreaths. Every summer solstice, Polish people gather, dance, eat, and create beautiful flowered wreaths. Candles are placed on the wreaths, the wreaths are placed on water, sent to sail. I've heard different stories about the meaning and origin of the ceremony; my favorite that maidens would send out their unique wreaths out onto the nearest lake, and the man who found their wreath across the river could claim their hand in marriage. But it is an amazing ritual of beauty, creation, and release-- mimicking the extravagance of the season we now find ourselves in.

I celebrated it once with some beloved friends at a lake in Canada (photo above). We picked wildflowers, read some prayers, sent out our wreaths onto a still and majestic sunset. And I hope my children will grow up with memories of their own wianki, which brings me to Saturday night.

We loaded the car with our children and picnic blankets, headed into the city for the highly anticipated night. We found our way to the spot where Polish people in this area celebrate wianki, a reflecting pool right at the foot of the capitol.

But as we parked our car and got out, we were astonished to find that the basin had been drained-- bone dry, with some mud at the bottom, but not a drop of water.

And I know I'm an adult, I shouldn't let such things get to me. As you can tell, the kids didn't seem to mind one bit. But where was the water? How could we set our wreaths sailing in a dry basin? Ben and I laughed out loud. There were people, wreaths, beautiful traditional polish costumes and dancing, but no water.

My unease lingered. And only with time did I realize the meaning of the whole thing. Because how can you set anything to sail without deep, ample water? How often has my own spirit been bone-dry, parched, empty? Longing for living water and yet trying to set hopes and ideas to sail in vain?

I certainly hope to have many memorable wiankis-- beautiful ceremonies with song, dance, magnificent sunsets, and beautifully lit wreaths. But I also hope I will remember this one. The dry basin, our beautiful wreaths, and a thirst for water.

Two Pigtails

Pigtails feel like a rite of passage around here. As I go through baby pictures, pigtails are a benchmark. There's bald, then fuzzy, then some short hair and then there are pigtails. They appear right around the time that personality forms, that individuality is asserted, right around the time that babies become mobile and self-assured and independent. They may be there in one picture and mysteriously missing in the next-- a mark of an emerging toddler that has developed some aesthetic preferences. Or there's the single "poof" pigtail, a compromise that seemed to please mother and baby alike-- not quite your conventional pigtails, but a step in that direction.

Well, as with most things, I have found that with this second precious child in our home I am much less eager to reach those milestones. I am happy to savor those sweet baby curls that are growing down her back; shudder to think of altering something so beautiful and delicate.

But that second baby of mine has sharp eyes and a keen sense of what defines toddlerhood. She watches her sister with eagle eyes, and mimics perfectly; climbing to the dinner table and drinking from an adult cup, pushing a stroller with a baby in it, wiping her ice-cream covered face with a napkin just like sister. And so when she saw Zosia climb up on top of the toilet for me to fix her hair, she followed suit, going as far as taking two hair elastics and pushing them into my hand, emphatically gesturing towards her head with a few grunts.

And so somehow, we have arrived here. Fourteen months, two pigtails, and one proud baby.

Tomato Season...

is coming! I'm quite excited, having been out of the home-grown-tomato circuit for a couple of years now. With tomatoes growing, it must truly be summer (this 95 degree heat certainly has me thinking so, too).

How are your garden adventures going?

Elephant

This is Zosia's rendition of an elephant. And her first depiction of an animal form. I suppose when you're not yet three you see the world in such shapes. I love everything about it: the circles for feet, the colored in oval for a body, the long spindly trunk. Oh, I just look at it and beam.

A Father's Love

I couldn't help but share this picture: which is what I found when I walked into my living room yesterday afternoon. I hope all the father's out there had a wonderful weekend-- and that our gratitude will spill over into the rest of the year, too.

Peace Rituals

Whew! Has it really been almost a week since I've been in this space? Summer has a way of bringing in all sorts of currents of energy-- outdoor energy, creative energy, the energy of change (not to mention barbecuing energy, swimming energy, playing energy) . And I can sometimes get swept away by it all and find myself feeling absolutely pooped at week's end.

I have been trying to cultivate a sense of peace and presence amid such activity (above, my new morning ritual, complete with cup of coffee), and am finding myself yearning to create new grounding practices. I remember one summer, when I was newly in love with Ben, sitting outside at each dusk and drinking a cup of peppermint tea-- it was just the perfect way to breathe and return to center.

Now how will I do it today?

Or, better yet, how did you do it today?

This Saturday: the people

What's so amazing to me about each time that we get together with our families is the sheer quantity of love that exists in that gathering.

There's grandma love (one of the world's most powerful loves, I have learned)...

which can come from a grandma or those that are like a grandma:

Kissy-kissy love (discovered by our two year old at the pool yesterday, I'll have you know. Kissing a three year old named Angelo. Can you believe it?):

Daddy and Mommy love:

Aunt and Uncle love:

(that's my Aunt Basia, celebrating 60 tears of joy and life)

Sister love (my mom busting a gut laughing... a classic sight in our family):

Make that many generations of sister love (not even counting the budding love between Zosia and Lily):

And then the sheer love of life. That's Basia dancing...

to this (a gentleman who has played wine glasses in Alexandria since Ben and I were children):

And Zosia pretending to be a pirate. Pretty scary, don't you think?


Being surrounded by such love: what a joy.