kindergarten wishes

A letter to my Grace on the night before kindergarten:

Tomorrow is an important day.  Tomorrow you begin down the path of a student, a role you will inhabit for many, many years to come.  Here are my prayers for you:

That you will always love meeting new people.
That you have many friends.
That you are a good friend to many.
That you will always love to learn.
That, to paraphrase the poet Carl Dennis, you suspect the world you know isn't the only world.
That you ask lots of questions, and know that when you feel you don't know quite enough, that's a pretty good sign that you are learning.
That you are cautious of people who seem to have all of the answers.  They don't.
That you are quiet sometimes, and just listen.
That you pay attention to what's happening around you.
That you write a lot.
That you keep telling stories.
That you always try to express yourself through art.
That you are willing to say yes to new experiences.
That you know how to say no.
That you are thankful.
That you have a little voice inside your head that sounds like Mommy sometimes.
That you know being tough means feeling fear but staying strong.
That you know having empathy means reaching out but not jumping in.
That you love God.
That He always protects you.
And that you will always, no matter what, forever and ever be as amazing as you are right now.

I love you more than most.  I am proud.  I am thankful.  I am so excited for your journey.

Girls on Deck

At lunch, Grace and Zara and I sat chatting.  I joked with Grace about whether she'd like a cup of coffee.  She said, "Oh, yes!"  We laughed.  I then said, "When you're older.  And when you're big, the three of us are going to sit out on the deck, drink wine, and you'll tell me about all of your problems."  Zara then chimed in, "And blow bubbles!"

It's a date, my girlies.  I am so looking forward to it ... and everything in between.

authors and pee-pee

Last night before bed Grace squeezed her eyes shut and said, "Mom, I have to tell you something."  I braced myself for something earth-shattering.  She said, "I've decided that I don't want to be a doctor anymore.  I want to be an author and illustrator instead."  I've been trying to subtly brain-wash her on the doctor thing, but apparently to no avail.  Obviously, she's keen to my tactics since she seemed to know I might take it badly.  Personally, I think Grace will be a brilliant author and illustrator!  (But, I'll continue to push med school as a plan B!).

Zara went pee-pee in the potty for the first time this morning.  She said, "Poop."  I asked, "Do you want to sit on the potty?"  She marched right over and sat down, and after a few minutes, she did it.  She received big cheers from her mommy ... and a Tootsie Pop.  Later, she said, "Want sucker."  I told her she needed to go on the potty first.  She tried, but no luck that time!

These girls make me so incredibly proud.  Tired, but proud.  So thankful...

learning grace

Today I found out that I may not have a job as of May 2014 as a result of budget cuts.  It made me realize how much I really like the work I do and I how much I enjoy working at this institution, with these colleagues and these students.  I feel a little sad about the prospect of losing my job ... but I also feel really thankful, at this point, for these past four years. 

More importantly, I'm so thankful for this feeling I have that--no matter what--it's going to be okay.  I have a good team in Jeff and the girls and a lot of faith that if this door closes, it's going to open to something just as rewarding.  I just don't know what that might be...

why i like Lent

...because it asks us as Catholics to do something in a real and physical way.  I mean, I suppose practicing any faith requires that you do stuff (for example: tithe, give thanks, love one another, etc.) but I am finding that the challenge of fasting, of sacrificing a vice and even the act of wearing ashes on my forehead on Ash Wednesday helps me to feel like I'm taking a more active role on my journey toward closeness with Jesus.  I kind of like the responsibility of having to do stuff for God.

I am thankful for the rituals that seem cRaZy!!! that have become deeply symbolic for me and help me to feel part of a community that is holy and sacred. 

the real scary stuff

I write this two days after having found out that a high school friend passed away suddenly from a "terrible virus," leaving behind a husband and two small, beautiful children.  To put it simply, the whole thing has me incredibly freaked out ... terrified, really.

Each night of late, before we settle in to read bedtime stories, Grace needs to make sure there are "no scary parts" in the books she has chosen.  If the book is a Tangled chapter book on loan from the library, she wants to be sure that Mother Gothel is not in the chapter we'll be reading.  Tonight, she considered whether the bee that flies into the rabbit's mouth in The Whispering Rabbit was scary enough to warrant a decision not to read it.

It occurred to me tonight how different the things that scare me are from the things that scare my kids. I am in awe of and incredibly thankful for the fact that Grace's biggest fears are of things that don't actually exist, like Disney villians or a grumpy neighbor in Ivy & Bean. 

I so wish I could protect them from ever having to fear anything greater.  Like real life.

Heart Without Walls

I awoke this morning to a status update from one of my Facebook friends asking for prayers for a little baby boy, Judah, who was just born with a heart defect and will be undergoing a long, difficult surgery today. Apparently, his heart has no walls.

Along with his post was a picture of the boy with his family. I looked at the mom, clearly broken but still smiling, and thought of our own bumpy beginning with Zara. To be clear, Zara had a fever, not a heart defect. Three days at Strong and she was good to go. But man, I think the pain any mom feels seeing her baby all wired and poked is both equal and boundless. When I looked at her during that period, she was so quiet and peaceful, so fragile and helpless, yet so resilient and strong. I knew that this was going to be a kid to be proud of. To see her climbing (and falling) running (and bumping), talking (and screeching), there isn't even a trace of that sick little baby. Instead, she always comes with pure joy in tow ... and a touch of wreckless abandon. And I was right. This is a kid to be proud of.

Giving thanks for my healthy kids and prayers for baby Judah and his family. Once that defect is repaired, his heart-without-walls is going to be a really beautiful thing.