imprints in the snow

I love putting Eden in other people's clothes. Well, perhaps not just anyone's clothes, though I do really appreciate our hand-me-downs. I love seeing Eden in the little blue coat I wore when I was her age. I like to look at her and remember that I was that age and toddled around in that same coat. And I instantaneously speak to her in my mind: "Someday you'll be here, too." It's like we're walking through the snow and one person's foot peels out of a print just as the next person's slides in. For a moment, it is like time bends over on itself and we intersect each other in the same physical space. Maybe I make too much of it, but something about it feels almost spiritual even though the subject matter is as physical as it gets.

Eden is exactly 18 months younger than Israel. That combined with the fact that one is a boy and the other a girl means they should probably never wear the same clothes. However, if I haven't made the point already, Eden is tiny and Israel was tall, so it turns out there is the small space in winter when they both wear/wore size 3-6 months. Eden is on the leaving-that-size as Israel was on the just-getting-into-that-size, but I'm loving the brief overlap. We didn't find out Israel's gender while pregnant, which means we have several gender-neutral things I love reusing.

So it is that I thought I'd share with you one such shared moment in space: Israel and Eden's prints in the snow.

Left: Israel December 2007
age 3 months

Right: Eden January 2010
age 10 months

Cabin fever!

Two months shy of three years ago, our church started meeting in the cabins at Heekin Park. Perhaps most churches in America would not consider it to be a very luxurious place and, well...I wouldn't argue. Not much, anyway. But at the time it was a great step up. It was the end of an Indiana winter spent meeting in an unheated garage with a salamander. (If you're not familiar with a salamander, it's a heating machine that has a long snake attachment and does *wonderful* things for the air quality. We would have it on before the meeting and then turn it off to start so we could hear the music. But then it would be cold again, so we'd fire it back up while we took a break. Then we'd have to turn it off to finish our meeting. Ah...the good ol' days!)

Moving into the cabins felt downright luxurious because they had HEAT! Our first service in the cabins was on my birthday in March. I giggled because I could feel my toes wearing only one pair of socks. It was a birthday present too wonderful for me! (Okay...maybe I felt like I deserved it.) We rented three of them: one for the service, one for nursery (birth through age 5), and one for elementary students (K-5).The big cabin had a small kitchen with a stove and small refrigerator, which seemed like such a novel idea at the time. It also had a stage area along one of the narrow walls. I laughed thinking we'd go from having someone talk from a circle of people sitting in metal chairs in a garage to having us all listen to someone speaking down to us from a stage. Turns out we never used the stage for that and we were all glad.

When we first went to the cabins, we were a handful of mostly relocators with very few children. But more people moved in, some of our neighbors started to come, lots of neighborhood kids joined us, and many, many babies were born. Neither Israel nor Eden had even been thought of (by us, anyway...) before we moved to the cabins, but both of them were dedicated to our Lord there. We have seen friends baptized in those cabins. Wedding vows were renewed outside the cabins. We grew by all means available until we started running out of room to put enough chairs in the cabin and the kids (many of whom did not exist our first Sunday there) were crazy and loud being put together in such a resonant space. Many of us were tired of making the trek from a cabin to the glorified outhouses in the heat (stinky) or the cold (the toilets were metal). It became more and more cumbersome storing all the things for sound, nursery, kids, and lunch in the trunks of our cars and the back of an old van during the week and hauling them through whatever weather to set up for what had become around 75 people a week. All the wonderful people added to us meant our church had some growing pains that couldn't be ignored while we waited to build a community center where we could also house our church.

The recent news that we had been asked to rent out the Boys' and Girls' Club was met with shouts of joy from just about all of us. It is just across the park from the cabins that have been our home. We were excited to hear that it had not two, but three classrooms and bathrooms and (gasp!) storage space...all under one roof! What glory! On Saturday, several of us gathered to check out our new, rented home. It is about what you would expect from a sort of inner-city non-profit place for kids to hang out. It needs painted. Things are old, torn, outdated, disheveled. I'll admit that my initial excitement met with some I'm-not-sure-about-this as I walked through the rooms and thought about how we would fit into the space.

We got to work cleaning off the various sorts of chairs that had been donated to us to set up for worship in the gym. We rearranged rooms for the kids. We set up tables and chairs for lunch. (We're still a few short if you have any extra long folding tables sitting around....) We found a pulpit in the back of the locker room. That's right...a pulpit. Wow. We got a folding glass wall to put around the drum set. We have room in the storage closet for a sound board and bigger speakers borrowed from a band. It took 8-10 of us a little over 3 hours to figure things out and get set up. That's a long time. Excitement met with this-is-a-lot-of-work.

But on Sunday, everything felt great. The kids, who are already quite familiar with the building, felt right at home and got right down to playing pool and Dance Dance Revolution. There are bugs to work out, to be sure, but the space felt warm and inviting. In spite of all the needed improvements, seeing each other's familiar faces there felt a little like seeing your spouse of years and years dressed up for a date.

Right now I am in the throes of potty training Israel while Eden is pulling on me to help her walk across the room. It actually takes up a lot more of my time teaching Israel to pull his pants and underwear up and down, get situated for the big event, follow through, and wash his hands. It's slower for me to hold Eden's hand while she walks than it is for me to carry her to her destination. Growing up is hard work -- and no less so for those given the task of helping the process along.

Moving to the next stage requires a new commitment to the harder work of doing something new.

Eden's dedication

This past weekend, we had Eden's dedication service. Much seemed to be going against it, with Israel crouping up suddenly the day before, fever and all. I started coming down with the yuck as well. Going in to church that morning, I found out that we were moved to the smaller cabin, which was bad news since our growing group has been scrunching into the larger cabin. I had invited friends and family for the service -- which would mean more people than usual in less space. But it was precisely because I had people planning to come that I did not cancel.

We were so blessed by those who were able to be with us that day. My family came up for the weekend and Pat's dad and step-mom were at the service as well. Sue and Matt and their kids were there. It was wonderful to be able to worship with our blood family and to have them giving their smiles to the occasion.

Eldon and Louise Morehouse came as well. I'm not quite sure what words would best describe how humbled and honored we felt to have them there. They are older and wiser than most anyone else we know and their presence carries a weight that others' does not. We know them mostly from our time at Muncie Alliance, so in some way, they bring with them a blessing from our parent church.

But for some reason I can't quite articulate, I was most honored by the presence of our friends and neighbors who do not typically come inside a church. In the past, perhaps I would have been most glad to give them a reason to come to a church. Or maybe I would have spent the service hoping something would make them want to keep coming. But this time, (though I certainly want for them all the richness that Jesus gives to me...) I was more just happy for what I was receiving from them. They don't go to church, but they came for us. I am sure one man in particular was quite uncomfortable, as he really has a bad taste in his mouth when it comes to church, but he came. And because he came, I know he loves us. Our neighbors love us! What a huge blessing! They were willing to set aside their schedule and be uncomfortable in a way that the rest of our friends and family didn't have to be just for us. We feel so honored by their friendship -- so honored and grateful.

As we did with Israel, we had people come up and pray over Eden. Beautiful people prayed beautiful things over her. They thanked Jesus for her. They affirmed the peace and the quiet joy about her. Eldon prayed that she would love "the least of these." I cannot think of a more beautiful gift that could be given to her or to those around her. If my daughter lives a peaceful, quiet, joyful life characterized by a love of "the least of these," I will be one proud (in the good way), grateful mom!

Israel in words and moving pictures

This month there has been much to record in the lives of my children. It's becoming harder and harder to capture them in pictures. And as for Israel, the rule that observing things changes them certainly applies; if you are seeing him, he has most likely changed into someone else. He is easily overwhelmed by people. So I thought I would share the little boy I spend my days with with you.

Israel is in many ways still the infant I knew over two years ago. He's still very determined and easily made "mad" over things not going exactly according to his plan. He does not do things half-way. He likes things to be just so. But he is also very loving and tender and spontaneous in his own way. He speaks pretty well for himself these days, so here are a few stories from his life this month to let you in on what a great kid he is to have around.

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After he had been misbehaving (being mean in word and deed toward our very patient dog), I was talking to him about what I expect of him:
"I want you to be a kind and gentle person," I said.
"No, I not," Israel said.
"Israel, I want you to be a kind and gentle person."
"No. I not a person."
"Yes, you are a person. All people are persons."
"No, I not person."
"Israel, all people are persons. If you are a people, you are a person. You're a people; you're a person. I'm a person, Daddy's a person...all people are persons." I was baffled because Israel correctly uses the word "people" all the time. Did he think I was calling him a name? What in the world was so bad about being called a person?
He got loud and emphatic: "No, I not!" He pointed at my purse hanging on the back of a chair. "I not a purse-on!"
I can't argue with that.
"I want you to be kind and gentle."
"I not a purse-on."

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He is learning the colors red and green while we drive around town these days. I was recently stopped at a light, waiting to turn left. The arrow turned green. I pushed the gas and could almost anticipate what came next.
Israel started, "You ha' tuh 'top."
"It was green, Israel. I know you might not have seen it."
"We ha' tuh 'top."
"I know. The big light was red, but the little arrow was green, so it's okay. Green means go."
"We ha' tuh 'top, Mommy. We ha' tuh 'top."
I was glad when we saw the next red light. "This one is red, so we can stop now, Israel."
Everything as it should be.

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Israel is deliberate. He does not leave things up to chance. While this can be frustrating or funny, it makes the way he loves that much more meaningful.

As I said, observing Israel most often changes him a lot. He clams up and tells me he "don't ha' tuh say, 'hi,'" to you or just leaves his response at, "No!" upon seeing you. It's a shame and I haven't quite figured out what to do yet. Sometimes I think he's afraid; sometimes it seems he's just being contrary for no good reason; sometimes I think he's just painfully shy. There have been only a handful of people Israel has taken to right away and he met one of those precious few this month: Ange. (He was too little to remember the last time he saw her.) She was the rare exception and it made my heart happy to see. Many of you likely remember Ange from our wedding at least, as she was my maid of honor. She's across the ocean these days, but I tell my kids to call her "aunt" so they'll know they're close to her, even if they hardly see her. She is not overwhelming in any respect, apparently. Israel was himself and played with her right away. Here's Israel's first piano duet with Aunt Ange.

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Israel and I often play the "guess what" game these days. It's always playful. I started it by asking "Guess what?" before I said, "I love you." That evolved to Israel asking "Guess what, Mom. Guess what," and being entirely confused when I would answer, "What?" Now, he just anticipates my first answer for the most part and says either, "Mommy love Izzo," or "I love Mommy." But then he suddenly made it his own. I said, "Israel, guess who I like." He smiled.

"Israel, guess who I like."
"I like zou." (Zou = you)
"You like me? ...I like you!"
" I like zou, Mommy. I like zou," and he reached out to hug my face. He put his hands on my cheeks and played with my hair like I often do to him. "I like zou."
I almost cried. "I like you, too, Israel."

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And tonight he came to me after I changed his sheets and made his bed and said, "Thank you...for make-ih my bed, Mommy. It...it...it make me happy you make my bed."

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He loves his books. He chooses the story of David and Goliath and reminds himself, "I no need be 'cared (scared)." He reads to his animals. He asked me to take this picture of him with his animals. These are his "special" ones: lion and bear. And his blanket. These are the things he loves. Before I took this picture, he had been reading to Lion and Bear. He takes care of Bear and often asks to clean his ears out for him or insists that, though he himself does not need to be sung to, I need to sing to Bear and kiss Bear goodnight. It's tender.

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I thought I would let him read a book to you. I quickly realized we couldn't read the whole book in the 60 seconds allotted by the camera, but you get the idea. He's memorized nearly the whole thing!

Israel has also become quite the chef these days. Here he is, hard at work in his pajamas, making a splendid side dish to accompany the turkey that was in the "big" oven.

a mountain becoming a mole hill

I realize I am past due for a blog for the grandparents. Sorry. Wait just a little longer.... :)

I'm still processing CCDA. Still. It's nearly a month later. It's funny how when you actually start trying to put into practice something new you've learned, you continue to think about it for a long time. It certainly helps that we returned from the conference to find ourselves studying the book of James in the Bible. For those unfamiliar with it, an over-simplified description is that it's the book in the New Testament that says, "Hey. Do those things you believe you should be doing."

There are two related beliefs I have that I'm trying to practice. (Perhaps I would more correctly say that I am "practicing"them. Sesame Street says that to practice means to try...and try.) The first was put into one of the songs we sang at the conference.

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. - Micah 6:8

That walking humbly part does not come naturally, but it sure does help when trying to do justice and love mercy. It seems to me that most of the time in the Bible, when God talks about justice, it is mostly in the context of making sure those at a disadvantage in society (the poor, the orphan, and the widow) are taken care of. But when I think about justice, I mostly think about how other people -- even those at a disadvantage -- don't deserve better because they have bad habits x, y, and z. Now, I'm all for applying wisdom in helping others and am definitely in favor of empowering and against enabling, but I also am aware that I am missing out on the heart of God lots of times because of those neat-o terms I like to use.

You see, I like to judge. Sometimes I put my judging others under the name of other things that are good to do, such as "exercising judgment" or "walking the line between this and that" or "being careful," but really, it's just me reading only part of the verse. "I'll be good at the 'acting justly' part and someone else can be good at the 'loving mercy' part," I think. "I play this role in the Body of Jesus and you can play that one." Not judging someone just didn't seem like it was even an option to me. I automatically judge people all the time. "Well, it's probably okay that this bad thing happened to so-and-so. Maybe she'll learn not to do that thing she always does." "I'll give this thing to so-and-so, but I'll keep this thing to myself, because I don't want to encourage that bad habit in him." "It's okay for me to not go the extra mile for so-and-so's kids...they don't really care if their kids have this opportunity anyway." You understand. Maybe you're like me. Maybe you're not. (If you're not, don't tell me.)

But what I was shown was that, in my very act of thinking those thoughts, I became just as awful as "those people." Just as much in need of a Savior. I was missing out on the "show mercy" part of loving God just as much as other people may miss out on the "take care of your body" (and I only say that because "don't do drugs" is not explicitly in the Bible...) part. We're all missing out on the "make Jesus the Lord of your whole life" part. I am no exception. Me. I am no exception. What was that verse I memorized in Mrs. McKnight's kindergarten class? "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Sorry, Mrs. McKnight. I forgot which verse that was in Acts.) "All" includes me just like it includes the person next to me.

There's also that verse about how every valley will be exalted and every mountain will be made low and we all will see our Maker together. I'm learning to love that verse. Include me as a mountain being brought down. I'm learning to rejoice when I see the valleys rising up beside me. I'm learning that we're all on the same level when it comes to Jesus appearing in our lives. We will all see him together. And then I remember what John Perkins said, "Something about when God shows up, you do not feel overqualified."

That brings me to my second belief: we should love other people. Love. That's it. We like to put a whole bunch of "yeah, but's" after being told to love someone else. At least I do. God tells us to love people, but when I go to apply that to a particular person, I often have a "yeah, but..." and then some reason why it doesn't really matter. But it matters. Even if it doesn't matter to the other person, it certainly matters to the condition of my heart.

Bart Campolo spoke at the last night I was at the conference. He said several things that were a bit uncomfortable to hear, but most of what he said I tend to find true in practice. He talked about people whose "cards were punched" a long time ago. He talked about people who are like some of the people I know. Maybe they've been on drugs for a long time. Maybe they were so abused for years that they have hardly a mind left. Maybe they're just part of a family that has passed down the same bad habits generation after generation such that it's no surprise to find the youngest generation acting just like their parents. Maybe you know someone whose card was punched a long time ago. They are messed up. They probably won't change. You can give and give and give and their situation will stay the same. Loving them might not change a thing about them, but we are to love them anyway.

Love them. It sounds really hard, but it's not really...not if God gives you the gift of Himself. Loving them doesn't mean to change them. It doesn't mean to make sure they become moral. It doesn't mean to make sure they get their driver's license and a car. It means to treat them as your fellow human beings and to give them dignity, to listen to them and spend time with them. It means not considering yourself above them. We know what love means.

I have a hard time thinking that my love won't change people. And I think it's dangerous to walk too close to losing hope for people. But perhaps we have wrong expectations.

I mean, I know a guy who was a drunk for years. He'll tell you if you ever come meet him. He was abused as a kid -- hit in the head with a hammer -- and then drank for something like...oh, I don't know...say 40 years. And then Jesus saved him. He became sober. He's been sober for over 2 years now. It's a miracle. And we call them miracles for a reason, is what Bart said. Most people I have met in the neighborhood are more or less the same as they were when I first got here. If dramatic life changes happened all the time, they would be normal and natural. But they're not; they are miracles. Bart said they're miracles, even for God. I think he said it for shock value, but he then offered this explanation that helped me see his point: It is so rare that I actually obey and do the will of God. It is rare that you obey and do the will of God. But then for some reason we think that, when we put all of us rarely doing the will of God together, that suddenly the big picture is the will of God. We think that putting a bunch of people thwarting the will of God together equals God always getting what He wants. Well now, that does seem silly. People are truly messed up and disobedient. Of course God doesn't want that. But sometimes -- rarely -- we do the will of God. Sometimes we obey and sometimes we actually love. And that is a miracle.

If I put these trains of thought together, I come to the conclusion that me loving my neighbor is no more or less miraculous than my friend Jack being sober right now. It's no less miraculous than if we have young black boys growing up to be college graduates instead of inmates or girls realizing their value doesn't come from how they look or drug addicts becoming of sound mind. If the only thing that changes because I moved into this neighborhood is that Lezlie McCrory learns to love other people, well then, I'll be able to write about a miracle.

While Israel is big boy enough for a three day, three night trip to Deeja and Papaw's, Eden stayed with us at the CCDA conference. She did an amazing job and we did not have to miss a single breakout session on her account. She napped in the ergo baby carrier, played quietly during the big group sessions, etc. She was the only baby-in-tow at the conference as her friends were old enough to go to the babysitters and since most everyone else in the group left their children behind for the conference, she was everyone's baby for the weekend. She liked being held by all kinds of people (though we all have our limits). Josh (pictured here) seemed to have a particular fondness for her and she enjoyed his airplane rides when she'd had enough of sitting still. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, I'd say. He got some I-miss-my-baby time and she got some "Something different, please," fun. Most of the time during the sessions, she was either strapped to me or Pat or playing with Josh.

During one of the group sessions in particular, though, Eden seemed bound and determined to interact with the stranger behind us. No matter where I sat her down to play or what toy I used to entice her to sit still, she kept crawling around or under my chair to get to whoever was sitting behind us. (I didn't want to turn around and make eye contact because it felt like an awkward situation keeping my kid away from someone she obviously wanted to see.) Finally, I heard a lady's voice say, "I can take her." It was the lady behind me...who I don't know at all. With a little bit of I'm-not-sure-this-is-really-okay grin, I handed her my kid. I tend to think small children have a sense about who is good and who is not. It's as though they have an ability to see spiritual realities we lose as we practice judging based on use of our five primary senses. I hope I'm not just naive for wanting to trust that in my kids. And I want to trust other people, even though most of the time I don't. There was that, and I figured most everyone at the conference was someone trying to be good and living the same sort of life I try to live, right? Besides, I wouldn't really know the "official" sitters for the conference either, right? Sometimes you just have to trust your kid to a stranger, right?

So there went Eden. I tried to check back behind me not so often as not to make whoever it was feel like they weren't trusted but enough to let them know I don't just expect them to be in charge of my kid for the duration. Every time I looked back, Eden was sitting perfectly happily in the lady's lap, leaned back with a big smile, looking into the woman's face. And the lady and the whole row of people sitting with her were smiling back at Eden. It seemed a perfect arrangement. I could listen to the speaker because Eden had all she wanted and so, it seemed, did the row of people behind me.

When the session was over, I turned around to meet the miracle lady who had so enchanted my Eden. Her name was Judy and she had a warm smile. When I thanked her for caring for my kid, she said, "I'm a grandma." Obviously, Eden could tell. But I'm sure Eden meets tons of grandmas in a given day and she has not ever -- before or in the weeks since -- so pursued a particular person. So we dubbed the lady Grandma Judy.

We were often late to the gatherings and did not sit in the same close-to-the-front seats during the next large session. And we didn't see Grandma Judy. But the following meeting, we were able to get our previous seats and found her there again, sitting right behind us. I said a quiet hello and she said, "I missed you the last time!" Eden quickly went to her again.

I have waited a bit to post this entry, both for lack of time and for want of thought. This little relationship was so short and strange and wonderful. It is such a beautiful thing when someone loves your kid -- I mean, really loves them. I felt totally loved by this woman because of how she loved my daughter.

And then it hit me: I bet God feels the same way about us when we love His kids. He feels loved when we love our brothers and sisters. I understood suddenly why loving God and loving your neighbor go so hand-in-hand. And I want to be good at loving my brothers and sisters, whether I know them well or not. I want people to be able to sense that about me -- to sense God's love in me -- and to be drawn to it despite all other distractions. I want to be like Grandma Judy.

simple.

This weekend, a group from my church (Urban Light) and our partner church (Deliverance Temple, a.k.a. the DT) went to the CCDA (Christian Community Development Association) conference in Cincinnati. (How's that for parentheticals in the first sentence?) I will admit that we all had been seeming a bit weary in doing good before we left. As for myself, I was down to either giving up on doing the good thing or, if I did it, all about making sure everyone knew I had done it and knew that it was not convenient for me. Sick.

I remember, as a weary teenager, going to Christian camps and the like and feeling like, when I came home, there was no way to communicate what had gone on while I was there. I wanted everyone to be as pumped up as I was. I was always disappointed and decided that adults either just didn't get it or that "mountain top" experiences, as Christians tend to call them, were something everyone expects you'll grow out of. At the first mass meeting of the conference, I kept thinking, "Why is it that all these adults are trying to do that thing that I did as a teenager? I think I may be too old for this. Except I was among the younger people there. This weekend let me know that this sort of experience is not something to grow out of, but something to mature into. When I see a bunch of people in a room, just itchin' for God to show up, I become cynical. I don't usually expect to see God, but perhaps that's because I so rarely really go trying to see Him.

The founder of CCDA is a man named Dr. John Perkins (pictured here). He is a 79 year old man from Mississippi who says things such as "she have" instead of "she has." When he talks, he has as his main points things like, "Love Jesus," and, "Love your neighbor, " and, "Read your Bible," and, "Listen to God," and, "Obey God." I have heard him speak several times in my life. The first time, I could barely get much past his horrible grammar. In later times, I listened and thought, "He is a simple-minded man. It is really sweet for Him to tell me all these things I already know." Later still, I thought, "Wow. This man has an amazing story to share and has done some great things. I have respect for that man." This time, though, I thought, "Love Jesus and my neighbor? Read my Bible? Listen to God? Obey Him? REVOLUTIONARY! I don't think I can even do it!" Hearing him talk, I felt God giving me the gift of being humble for awhile. I found myself wanting to sit and listen to these reminders all day long. I felt profoundly thankful for being told to love Jesus and to read my Bible and to do what it says. There was nothing intellectual about his talk. He had no new ideas. He offered no pats on the back for asking profound questions or looking for new insight into what the Bible really says. Instead, he said that the truth is we often ask questions looking for a way not to obey what we can tell very well what the Bible says. In the past, being the philosophy major that I am, I bristled at such talk. How dare anyone tell me not to use my intellect! However, now I find that I don't even care to try to understand any more about God. I have way too much to do trying to live according to what I understand of Him already.

He presented what has become almost a new idea to me: I am a sinner who needs to confess my sin and be forgiven of it. Ugh. Really? Me? I can be so judgmental of everyone else. I am SO GOOD at finding what is wrong with things and people. I am SO GOOD at finding what is right about myself. So good that I had almost convinced myself that there wasn't anything wrong with me. I was right not to care about the mom who doesn't dress her child properly or spend time with her, but spends her time and money to sit around and smoke weed (or whatever). I was right that I need not waste my time on her. In fact, it was wise for me to not waste time like that. I could just clothe the kid and that was enough. Right? ...Right? Alright, well, I'll just take her a cookie. That'll cover over my bad attitude, if I ever had one in the first place. My attitude was probably just righteous anger anyway.

But Dr. Perkins said that we can't just bury our sins or do something to kind of make it better. Like how his wife makes him a good meal when really she just needs to confess. And why is confession such a big deal, anyway? He said, "It's really just us telling the other person what they already know." I laughed knowingly about that. It's so easy for me to see when Pat just needs to apologize. "Hey, sorry for being such a jerk." Well, I already knew he had been a jerk. Him saying so actually made it easier to just move on. Why is it I think I should take the long way around, inch my inch convincing myself and others that I am never a jerk and that, if you think about it, I really am in the right?

Confession: telling someone else what they already know is the case. (And if they didn't already know about that bad attitude, they certainly aren't going to be mad about it after you confess and ask them to forgive you for it.) Kind of takes all that scare right out of it.

And then he did an altar call. I hate altar calls. So superficial. So something I did as a kid. So something people do just because they get emotional or something. So something that wears off after a few days. So something I really needed to do. I went up. I cried a little. I really felt sorry for my pride. I asked for words that speak life to other people instead of words that make me better than them. I admitted that I can't even talk right on my own. I asked for pity. I was made right with God...not because I had been able to explain to Him why I was right, but because I told Him what He already knew about why I was wrong. Why I am wrong. Why I will keep being wrong unless He changes me.

I am a sinner in need of a savior. So there.

There. Let's not move past that point for a bit. I have so much more to process about this weekend, but let's stop there for now. Let's revisit it over and over so we don't forget it. Remind me of it. Remind me like a simple-minded person. We will laugh and cry together about our foolishness. We'll cry because we are to be pitied. We will laugh because being called out on these matters lets us know we are known. Like I know when Pat is coming because of that annoying way he scoots his feet. God knows when I'm coming because of that annoying way I come explaining things to Him. "Lezlie, you're doing that again." "Oh, I almost didn't notice. Thanks. Sorry. Tell me if I do it again."Ad infinitum.

Among my betters

There are so many times I get discouraged living in our neighborhood. I see parents neglecting their children or abusing them. I see intelligent kids put into special ed. classes or on medication for no good reason. I see kids steal and bully. I see kids who have a horrible self-image and even worse self-esteem. So many problems we encounter every day here hinge on parents and education (not to imply that those two things should be in distinct categories). It can be a real head-scratcher trying to figure out how to do what is best for the kids while, at the same time, doing what is best for the parents.

Along these lines, however, there is now reason to rejoice in our neighborhood, thanks to the hard work and talents of many people.

Last year, a new charter school called the Hoosier Academy opened up in Muncie. It is an experimental model, set up as a hybrid between a brick-and-mortar school and an online school for students from kindergarten through 8th grade. The kids do online classes Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with their parents or learning coaches on a computer provided for them for free. Tuesdays and Thursdays, all the kids meet in graded classes and have school just like any other traditional school.

During meetings about the opening of the school, it seemed to draw mostly home-schoolish parents from as far as an hour away. And that is mostly who attended the school during its first year: white, middle-class kids. But my friends (and pastor) Andrew and Leslie Draper saw great potential for the kids in our neighborhood. One courageous, African-American 7th grader from our neighborhood decided to enroll that first year. He was the only black person in the school. Leslie Draper committed to being his learning coach, which meant that he would be at her house, receiving one-on-one instruction, transportation, and lunch every day he was with her. (Did I mention she and Andrew have a preschooler and a toddler?) Her dining room turned into a classroom. He tested into a 5th grade level for reading and math that year, even though he had been passed through to 7th grade in his previous schools. So he took science, history, and the like with 7th graders and went to the 5th grade class for reading and math. They worked very hard to get him caught up to his grade level. He endured no small number of jokes and racial slurs -- from whites and blacks, family and friends, adults and children -- for his decision. When I told him he was courageous, he said, "Everyone tells me that. I don't know why." When I tell Leslie she is a brave (and/or crazy) woman, she says, "Meh," smiles, shrugs her shoulders. Geesh.

This year, the young man, having graduated 7th grade, made what was undoubtedly a difficult decision to continue the Academy through 8th grade. So Leslie committed to being his learning coach again. But during the summer, our neighborhood elementary school (the oldest in Muncie) was closed in order to avoid being taken over by the state under No Child Left Behind. This opened the "how do we educate our children" question wide open. We, as a community, have a value for being fully part of the neighborhood and, as such, many of us had committed to sending our children to the neighborhood school. But when the neighborhood school shuts down, then what? Many parents in the neighborhood must've had the same question, because this year there are eight kids in grades K-8 who signed up for the Academy with Leslie as their learning coach!

Needless to say, there was much scrambling around to find a place to meet and people to help out, but when the dust settled recently, it seems we are left with a sustainable model for our new sort of neighborhood school that is great for the students, the parents, and the teachers. Leslie acts as principal/teacher in the building that used to house the office where Pat's company was based. The owner of the building, who is part of our church, is donating it for use as a one-room school three days a week. (Okay, so it has three small rooms, but who's counting?) Parents are required to volunteer at least one hour a week to help teach and some are doing even more than that! Other people from our community are volunteering as well and the students (at least on MWF) get to see people of various races, ages, genders, and education levels working together to bring them up. Other of us (including one of the parents) prepare and bring lunch for the kids and workers once a week. I am excited to do this on Wednesdays and have been tickled that the healthy food I make gets gobbled up. It is so gratifying to feed young minds the food they deserve!

This has brought out so much good in so many people (with room for more to come) and I am sure I know only the first hint of it. I see the Drapers sacrifice, a young man endure hardship, parents step up, break stereotypes, and boldly try something new. I see my peers come alongside to volunteer to tutor and to make meals and help tie up loose ends. A friend recently quoted C.S. Lewis in her matron-of-honor speech at my brother's wedding, and it certainly bears application here. In this endeavor, I feel a though I am among my betters.

Not the school kids, but another group of kids those courageous Drapers took on a trip to

Ohio

*So many great ideas (giving kids a good education, empowering parents to educate their children, providing proper nutrition, modeling diversity, etc.) have been able to come together in this little learning center that I just have to share them! I hope this model can provide a great education for our neighborhood kids (which includes the McCrorys) as well as kids in other neighborhoods and in other cities and towns. Please get in touch with me if you want to learn more and I'll do my best to find answers to any questions you may have.

keeping current

I have a journal for each of my kids that I will give them when they are grown. I hope they are able to look back at their life through it and appreciate who they are then and how they became themselves. A couple of days ago, I wrote a little letter to Eden in her book and was amazed. I know from experience that things change quickly in the life of an infant, but Eden is moving from infant to toddler at a ridiculous speed and some days it feels to me that she has changed into an entirely different person overnight. In the last 20 days, the following things have happened:

- Eden learned to sit up straight by herself.
- Eden began sitting in a high chair and eating meals. (Thus far, they have included rice, oatmeal, pears, peaches, avocado, and green beans. She likes them all.)
- Eden's first two teeth broke through. She now has two little pointy ridges in the bottom of her mouth.
- Eden turned six months old.
- Eden learned to REALLY crawl and goes anywhere she wants.
- Eden was told "no" for the first time. (Okay, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but it was the first time I told her that in a pre-meditated way and not just because she had accidentally grabbed my hair or because I really meant to say, "Israel.")
- Eden was found crying, standing up in her pack'n'play; she had pulled herself up.
- Eden took her first big-girl bath.
- Eden started saying her first syllables: "Ba, ba" and "Ma, ma." (In addition to her laughs, gurgles, squeals, etc.)

What a busy month for a little one! It has all happened so quickly that I feel I am not able to reflect on it. I just keep playing catch-up to where she is. ("Oh! She is ready to do this." "Oh! She doesn't need that baby thing anymore.") I am re-finding all the places crawlers shouldn't go in the house. I am trying to remember the easy ways to make my own baby food. I'm trying to find time to sit and read books to just Eden by herself, because she is VERY interested in them at this age and can't really grab them when we're trying to share them with Israel. It is so different with a second child. With Israel, I was always reading the books, aware of what developmental step came next. With Eden, it's more of a, "Huh. She's doing THAT now. Is it time for that, yet?" It doesn't help that the little thing looks like she's about half her real age. She weighs in at a whopping 13 lbs., 13 oz. and is about 25 inches long. I had just started to be concerned that she was not growing last week when I put an outfit on her and realized I had been putting that outfit on her since she was a month old. The doctor says she's fine, that she's small, and that she acts like a nine-month-old! What a strange combination of looking young and acting old (well, for a baby). She does mind tricks on me all the time. Should she be able to handle all this toppling over when she's so little and delicate-looking? Do I think that because she's small or because she's a girl...?

Luckily, for her and for me, there is not much time for this over-analyzing. I don't even have time to remember to look for my book on child development! We're caught up in a current that is carrying us both toward more-completed versions of ourselves and I'm just trying to keep my eyes open to discover all there is to learn along the way.

these are the days

Oh, does life get fuller than this? My last post said I need more time, and I suppose that has proven to be true, as evidenced by how much time has passed between entries.

So much has happened. Life does not stop...for anything. Israel is now two years old; he is two in every sense of the word. I have decided that whining and throwing fits just happens and hope parenting can at least control the duration of the phase. We're about one week in and so far everyone is alive, if no better than that. These are the days that feel long and the days I have to remind myself why I love my job. To illustrate, here are a couple conversant moments from recent days:

First thing in the morning:
Me: Israel, who do I like? (I ask questions like this all the time and Israel usually answers, "Izoo!")
Israel: No. I NOT...like...Mommy.

First thing another morning:
Israel: [climbs onto my lap] I hnuggle.
Me: You want to snuggle me?
Israel: Yes!

Emotions are tough things to learn about and master. Staying home with your two-year-old teaches you that we don't necessarily get much better at it as we get older. He messes up and has melt-downs. I mess up and have melt-downs (of a different sort, thankfully!). Israel and I have to apologize to each other sometimes. Here come a lot of lessons in self-control and patience for us both!

On the positive end (as though learning self-control and patience was not a good thing in the end), Israel seems to be fairly generous for a two-year-old. We have had several friends' birthdays lately and he enjoys giving presents to people. He voluntarily shares his toys with Eden. Of course, he also claims, "Mines!" about things here and there, but seems to be more naturally inclined not to be "stingy." If I'm having a hard time getting the house clean, I can enlist his help by asking him to help make Daddy happy when he comes home. He loves that idea. Israel also seems inclined to do what is polite (with the exceptions of hugging people and saying hello to someone's face rather than after they're gone). He often says, "Thank you," without being prompted. He compliments food he likes by saying, "Thank you, Mommy. It good! Very nice! I like it!" On his birthday, I told him the polite thing to do when people tell him "Happy Birthday," is to say, "Thank you." He went around all day, saying, "I tell people...Thank you!" It is fun to watch virtues emerge. There are flowers among those thorns!

As for Eden, she continues to be sweet as can be. She can fully sit up on her own (though I am happy to report that she still also does the "senior portrait" sitting-up pose often) and is eating solid food. Thus far, she has liked everything: rice cereal, oatmeal cereal, avacado, and pears. On Israel's second birthday, she turned six months old. On that very day, she began to crawl in earnest and now can make her way from the front of the house to the back of it if she is so inclined. There was almost no teaching her these things. My girl can do whatever she puts her mind to doing.

As she becomes more mobile, I get to see new areas of her personality developing. There is much toppling over these days and, while she can sometimes handle it just fine, she seems pretty sensitive over some little things. When she reaches a small barrier or feels she may be stuck in any way, she cries as though the world would end that moment. Her cries are some of the saddest, "Why is this happening to me?" cries I have ever heard. While Israel's cries nearly always came off as mad, Eden's nearly always come off as heart-broken. Those of you who have seen it can testify: She'll break your heart.

I do not cease to be amazed by how very different my two children are from each other. I enjoy watching their two personalities interact and wonder how they will shape each other as they grow. I think they will be good foils for each other.

That said, here are a few pieces of eye-candy for you.

Israel last year


Israel this year

Israel and Judah did their best to break the paper-mache pinata I made. Remarkably, no children were injured in the making of this video.

Eden showing a little bit of a crawl. She can really go quite a bit faster, but I haven't captured it...yet.