Simplicity Soup

The Most Important Work

October 6, 2009

This is what I do now. I teach my son. He wakes up, we pray together. We pray for Julius from Kenya, our Compassion friend. We pray for the people we love, and we pray for love for one another. We eat breakfast; every single day he wants pancakes.

Every single day, he makes me grit my teeth and he makes me laugh, sometimes really hard.

He has grown beyond an afternoon nap. So we spend the hours together and I don’t read or write so much anymore. A little, but not as much.

But I build beautiful villages from colorful wooden blocks. Building villages is my favorite thing to play, with forests and animals too. We need some people for our villages. I think I will give him some for Christmas.

We search for acorns, gather them up, put them in little bowls in the house to mark the beginning of autumn. Today we emptied the bowls, acorns rotting in the bottom, full of (live!) grubs. Won’t ever do that again. He learns a new term from me: Heebie Jeebies.

And so I know you’ll forgive if I never write again, because I am doing the most important work. Chances are, if you’re like most readers of this blog, you’re involved in doing the most important work too, with your own, or someone else’s. I think about all of the problems in the world, the ones that stem from the darkness in our hearts (is there any other kind of problem?), and I wonder what will happen if I teach my child to love and think and embrace and live a radical life. What will happen if you do the same?

Maybe we will end up like Mary, watching our son give unto death. Maybe we will end up with giggling grandchildren around our full tables or with volumes of stories of lives influenced abroad and hearts filled with light. Regardless of the way it plays out here, we will move into eternity knowing that our lives on earth were not wasted. We are mothers. And we gave up our selves and loved and taught our children well. It is the most important work.

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Birthday

August 28, 2009

Before Chad left for China, he suggested that we read a book of the Bible together while we were apart. We agreed on Hebrews. We both read through Hebrews last year and were greatly enriched by it.

I woke up on the morning of my birthday a little before 7am, hearing the neighbor’s rooster through my open window. Oliver was with my parents, so I had the day all to myself. The first thing I did was grab my Bible from the nightstand, slip on some shoes, and take a lawn chair out to the east side of the house to watch the sun rise.

As I was sitting there, I opened my Bible to the day’s chapter in Hebrews, Chapter 12, and here is the first thing I read:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

What an fantastic way to begin a new trip around the sun! I consider Chapter 12 to be the Bring It On Home chapter in Hebrews (bringing resolution to the crescendo and tension created in Chapter 11), and verses 22-24 are among my favorite verses in the entire Bible. So I thought it was fitting that this chapter reading would fall on my birthday.

My Aunt Molly read a great deal out of Hebrews at my Pops’ funeral in April, including these verses. Apparently he liked this book too. It was my first birthday without Pops.

Chad managed to get an email through to me on my birthday, which was a welcome blessing. I hadn’t heard a word from him for ten days. He is alive and well, and will be back in Shanghai today (Friday) at noon, for an eight-hour layover. Then back on an airplane and back on Indiana soil a little after 1pm tomorrow. We will be waiting.

The rest of my birthday was a delightful solo shopping spree. I tried 15 different dresses at Anthropologie and found one that I deemed suitable for airport picking-up. (Most of the others were also quite nice, but fit me like a pillowcase.) I stopped shopping long enough to eat a granola bar in the car in the parking lot at 3pm, and then made it back home in time to have a dinner at my aunt’s (not in my honor– it just happened to be a family gathering planned for Wednesday) and to pick up Oliver, who had a marvelous day with my parents.

After putting Oliver to bed (after giving him a tiny nibble of the delectable brownies someone left in my mailbox), I tried on all of my clothes in front of the mirror (with the mirror tilted away from the wall, to make me look much, much taller– try it!), including a new hat, which I don’t know if I have the confidence to pull off in real life, but I loved it in the store.

But I guess I’m 26 now. Why not start wearing hats?

Posted in Rachel | 8 Comments »

On the Way to Lexington

August 22, 2009

Here is what happened on the way to Lexington.

I had four tires replaced on Monday morning, and some assorted other car repairs. To make sure the car was suitable for the road, you see. It was supposed to take one and a half hours, worst case scenario.

And when I finally got on the road five hours later, everything seemed fine. We went through some slow construction for a bit, but then got on the interstate toward Kentucky and Oliver fell asleep and I was listening to the radio and the car began to vibrate.

I thought it was a bumpy road, but then the car began to really vibrate, like when I try to wash a load of jeans in my washing machine and it gets off balance in the spin cycle. So I pulled over on the interstate. Got out, looked at my tires for signs of, I don’t know, missing tires. Got back on the interstate. Took an exit at Seymour, stopped at a gas station, did the next thing any reasonable girl would do:

I called my dad. He asked about the lug nuts. I said, I don’t know about the lug nuts, but these bolts holding the hub caps on are loose; I can tighten them with my hands. Dad suggested I find a Wal-Mart and have them check it out.

Oliver and I walked into the gas station, got the directions to the Wal-Mart down the road. A short little yellow-vested guy desperately trying to grow a mustache came out and listened as I explained the problem.

Apparently, there hadn’t been much holding our tires on for three hours on the interstate (except for the hand of God, which turned out to be quite sufficient). Only one tire had all lug nuts tightened, and the rest had only one or two tightened.

Oliver and I sat in the waiting area at the Wal-Mart Tire and Lube center on blue plastic chairs. Oliver played with the car stereo system display and I tried to tell him a lame-o made up story while listening and watching what was happening with our car.

They tightened everything for free. Kept saying how lucky I was in a way that really said, “You’re lucky you and your cute little boy over there didn’t die out there on the road.” I tried to act like I had it together and wasn’t going to weep uncontrollably once I got out of the parking lot.

The rest of our trip passed without incident. God made all ways smooth and opened up spots for me to enter and exit and merge as needed and navigate over that forever long bridge between Indiana and Kentucky. We even had a successful stop at a gas station, where Oliver used the toilet like a pro. To celebrate our first road trip, we shared a Kit Kat bar, after which Oliver asked if that chocolate had kitty cats in it. (I am thinking– and you still ate it even though you thought it was made out of cats?)

So anyway, I thanked God for Wal-Mart that day, and for the guy with the dustache and the for mechanic who reminded me of my next door neighbor. I thanked him for showing me that he is always with me and he is faithful to watch over us, that with him all things are possible, and that, since we didn’t leave the earth on Monday, there must be more to accomplish here, according to his will and purpose.

Posted in Events | 10 Comments »

Like I Drink Water

August 22, 2009

Chad is in China. Which you might think I could have mentioned sooner, but if you know me you probably already know. The reason he is in China is a story I will tell you: we have friends who are planning to move to China in 18 months or so. The husband friend was planning to go on an observation trip by himself because the wife friend felt he should do this without her, but it was advised that the husband friend travel with someone. Someone=Chad. The opportunity seemed completely out of the blue, but God worked everything out, so Chad is in China for two weeks. He will return August 29th. I am planning to buy a pretty dress to wear when we pick him up from the airport.

I need to add that the city he is visiting has disabled the use of the internet and long distance phone calls (due to, um, some violent/deadly riots a month ago), so I haven’t heard from him since Shanghai on the 16th. And won’t hear from him again until the day he leaves. Up to this point in our marriage, we’ve only spent three nights apart, so this is all very new to me.

What’s really quite strange about all this is being unable to communicate with Chad at all. I normally call him every morning to tell him that Oliver and I are awake. I don’t have the opportunity now to tell him even the deepest stirrings of my heart. When he called from Shanghai to tell me he had arrived, I had written down what I wanted to say (since it was going to be quite in the middle of the night when he called). I told him, I love you. I am praying for you like I drink water. (Which is my fancy way of saying “a lot”.)

Oliver and I are living on the wings of the prayers offered up for us by the Body while Chad is gone. I received four encouraging notes in the mail this week. We spent a few days visiting friends in Lexington and family in Louisville and it only cost me one tank of gas and $1.80 for a box of organic cereal from Big Lots for car snacks. Our weekend is full of more time with assorted family and friends. God is being especially good to us. He is probably always this good to us and I just haven’t noticed.

So if you think about it, send us some love, lift us up, come over for tea. It’s just Oliver and Mama this week, givin’ up the nap (no!), turning 26 (Wednesday!), and looking forward to seeing the most important man in our lives again next Saturday.

Posted in Marriage | 6 Comments »

How’s Potty Training?

July 21, 2009

Oliver: I have to pee pee!

Rachel (in the shower): You can use the little potty under the sink. Use the little blue (Bjorn) potty. It’s under the sink.

– a few moments pass –

Oliver: I like to pee in the sink!

Rachel peeks out of shower, sees Oliver has climbed onto counter, is scooted up to the sink and, I assume, has just finished urinating into it.) Oliver! We don’t pee in the sink! The potty is UNDER the sink.

Oliver: (Gets it now.) Oh. (Smiles enthusiastically) I like to pee in the sink! (Thoughtfully) Need to wash my feet now.

Posted in Oliver | 4 Comments »

Welcome to Three

July 21, 2009

The birthday was perfect. I woke up at 5:30 and was upstairs reading my Bible when I heard Oliver opening his bedroom door. I quietly came down as he walked out of his room and whispered Happy Birthday to him, and held him for a bit. I glanced at the clock: 6:10. He was born at 6:08 three years ago. I became his mother at 6:08, three years ago.

I wrapped Oliver in a blanket and slipped on some shoes. I carried him outside, and we thanked God for the beautiful sunrise he had sent in honor of Oliver’s birthday. We walked a bit. I showed Oliver the stump where his Papaw sat all night when I was in labor, listening to two owls hoot to each other. “A little boy is born– whoooo whooo.”

We picked three stems of tiger lilies from the yard, just as Chad did for me when Oliver was born. Oliver clutched the orange flowers in his hands and rushed through the house to set them on his father’s pillow, waking him. The rain and thunder started as we came inside.

We had a stack of pancakes with birthday candles with a new little mug full of orange juice. (Half is the standard around here– don’t let him convince you otherwise.) We chose to let him open his gift in the morning so he could play with it all the rainy day. He opened his toy wooden front end loader and loved it. All three of us got down on the floor to see how it worked, turning this knob and that.

Chad left for work and Oliver and I went about our day together. We baked his birthday cake– he had requested a “sugar cake” which means nothing except that he knows sugar is something he likes and so he wanted that kind of a cake. We played with his new loader and other toys. Some men came to install our new bedroom door, so he sat in the living room and watched them work. There were many phone calls with well wishes, a lovely surprise gift left at our mailbox by good friends, and Finding Nemo at lunchtime with almond butter and jelly sandwiches.

When Chad came home, we prepared supper together: corn on the cob, grilled chicken breasts with a soy sauce & honey glaze, a fruit salad with nectarines, plums, peaches and strawberries, and bread with a basil and garlic dipping oil. I spread the red and white tablecloth and we used the matching linen napkins. We took turns telling Oliver things we liked and appreciated about him during the meal.

We cleared the table together. Oliver put the napkins in the dirty linen basket and brought the dishes to the sink. And then we turned out the lights and put three candles in the cake and we sang to him and enjoyed our dessert together.

He chose a couple of library books to read for bedtime, then we talked to him about the morning he was born, and all the people who came to see him, about how everybody thought he was going to be a girl, but surprise– he was a boy! Finally it was time to say the Lord’s Prayer (which we’ve been saying each night to teach him). He wanted me to hold him, so Chad told him goodnight and we sat in the chair and I held him on my lap and he started grinning at me with the goofiest grin I’ve ever seen. I tried to be quiet and serious, but he made me laugh, so we laughed and laughed at each other and giggled and grinned. I finally tucked him in and kissed his forehead and said, as I do every night, “I love you with all my heart and always will, no matter what. God loves you too, and always will, no matter what.”

And he went right to sleep.

Welcome to three.

Posted in Oliver | 7 Comments »

Summer

July 7, 2009

There have been two great pleasures this summer.

Outside my back door there are a few potted plants and a garden box, in which things actually grow and in which there are no weeds. This seems like a grand enough accomplishment itself around here, but the great pleasure I take in these plants is the delicious smell of their leaves: tomato leaves next to basil. Cilantro. Lemon Verbena, German Chamomile, Lavender and Thyme. All warmed by the sun, as I am when I sit on my back step.

The second great pleasure of my summer is, oddly, Oliver. Oddly, because he is the most trying person in my life. This is just the way it is with some children though, I think. This morning, I woke up before he did (a work of the Lord I may have to write about later, if it continues) and was already working in the house when he came out of his room. I held him in my lap for a bit and we spoke quietly about the morning. Then he said, abruptly, looking around the room, “I smell tea.”

Which he did, because I had a half-warm quart of peppermint tea in the next room. It is not the first time he has smelled something like this– it is usually when Chad or I are eating a snack after he’s gone to bed, then he calls us back for something unrelated and says suddenly– “I smell chocolate,” or “I smell crackers.” “You eating crackers?” This makes me wonder if he’s a super smeller– you know, like there are people who are super tasters? Of course he smells it on our breath, and he is very attuned to the presence of food, so perhaps he is not so super, only normal. I love him still.

There are in reality many good things God has given me this summer, perhaps too numerous to mention each, so two is a mere sampling. There are others that might be shared in brief.

Letters: in my mailbox from new friends and old, and from my husband, who, for our 5th anniversary bought a journal in which he writes a letter to me nearly every morning before he leaves for work.
Watching things grow: my husband and marriage, my son, raspberries changing color, pawpaws on the tree, tomatoes on the vine, sunflowers in the sky, my love for God
Seeing my writing room take shape upstairs. One wall is painted (the rest are waiting patiently– maybe forever), there is an comfortable futon mattress in the inviting window seat, the large table is ready for whatever “craft” Oliver feels like that day, and I’ve finally found a place in the house that gets good sirius-xm radio reception!
The sweet days when Oliver is accident-free. More and more frequent.

And a couple of things I wouldn’t consider “good” but I’m sure God has a plan somewhere:

Poison ivy around my neck and on my wrist and arm. I’m not wearing it like leafy jewelry– that’s just where it’s decided to settle and make me miserable.
Grass and weeds in the garden. Not really a garden, actually: it’s more like– “Hey– someone planted a row of tomato plants in our yard!” Chad mowed it yesterday. I spent some time out there with the hoe. Still looks terrible. We’re almost to the give-up point, which generally comes later in the summer.

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »

Brought to you by the Letter P

June 30, 2009

I am a forward-hater. If you send me something because you think you’re going to get good luck, or you’re afraid Jesus will think you don’t love him if you don’t send it, I will delete that sucker faster than anything. I’m just one of those people.

But the other day my friend sent something interesting that I had to pass on, because it involved 1)people emailing me back while 2) saying (presumably) nice things about me. Who could resist?

All I had to do was email the person who sent it to me with one word describing them. Then forward it and people would do the same thing. And so forth.

So the first one I got back was “Intelligent”.

Which starts with I.

But then:
Precious
Pixie
Persevering
Poetic
Passionate

Which is kind of funny, don’t you think? Or am I just being Persnickety?

Posted in Rachel | 4 Comments »

Almost Three

June 28, 2009

Oliver will be three years old in two and a half weeks (July 15th).

I think I’ve finally decided that I’m going to keep him. He seems to be getting a little easier to take care of, and we’re having real conversations now– many beginning with, “I have a quession.” So those other mothers weren’t lying when they said it would get easier eventually, though I did have my doubts.

Here are some of the things Oliver does now…

He makes his own toast in the toaster oven. Actually a lot of the time, he makes some “for everybody!” (Whether everybody wants some or not.)

He flips pancakes over in the skillet with little to no help.

He plays with tractors for a really long time by himself, making some sort of noise the entire time that I cannot duplicate.

We’re working on letters and numbers, but not with too much diligence. I’m taking this a lot more casually than I would have guessed.

And before you think the above photo was some kind of weird birthday session in the yard, it was just a normal part of a normal day. I don’t use that pot for canning (its intended purpose) so I thought it might make a good bath. Turns out, bathing in a big pot in the yard is way better than boring old bathtub stuff.

Just a glimpse of my life with an almost three year old.

Posted in Oliver | 5 Comments »

In Charge

June 28, 2009

As keeper of husband, child, and home, I’m normally in charge around here. Will we eat supper? Are there clothes to wear? Should Oliver take a bath tonight? Can we eat out? Should we buy the red sofa and love seat? These are all pretty much in my jurisdiction. I manage the finances, the shopping, gift-giving, the naps, the sicknesses, the calendar. Chad is in charge of vision & direction, nourishing & cherishing, income, outside stuff, power-tool stuff, and helping me. (I help him by doing the aforementioned.) The lines aren’t really drawn that clearly, but those are basic areas, and I’m getting more comfortable in them after five years.

So it’s weird to be in a situation where I am not in charge and don’t know what I should be doing.

Like today. I had a manicure, pedicure, and one-hour massage, courtesy of my mother. I met new people and underwent new procedures (manicure newbie here), all in a new environment. (A local spa and salon.) Nothing was weird or scary– it was all very pleasant. But as I was sitting there, painted, separated toes dangling from the manicure chair, I felt like such a child again, having to be led around and instructed at each new step.

I always need to know what to do, where to go, how to sit. As a firstborn, I am painfully conscious of the rules, whether I am doing things the “right way”, etc. I can’t stand getting into trouble. It bothers me–a lot–when people talk to me when we’re supposed to be listening (during a sermon, a wedding, or in class). For me, being in charge is equated with following the rules, for whatever reason.

So anyway. Today I experienced some feelings of not quite being in charge. And I did okay. I tried to relax and enjoy myself (usually hard to do when one is so in charge of everything), and I talked to the girl doing my nails and tried to get to know her a little bit. I mistakenly tried to put my head in the head-holder on the massage table while I was on my back. (That is not comfortable…I was like, who is this table made for, Mr. Balloon Head?) I put my feet in the pedicure bath before I was supposed to. I didn’t realize I had to dip my hand three times into the paraffin wax, and I was nervous as all get out about it because she kept warning me that it was really hot. I was expecting boiling oil so I did it really fast and the paraffin was all uneven. I dropped my keys on the floor as I was leaving, and I asked about ten times if my nails were dry enough yet to start using my hands. Some decidedly non-in charge behavior.

So what’s the moral lesson here? Not much, except I tried something new without knowing exactly what to do and it turned out pretty well. This is a big step for me. I’m growing! Maybe God will help me grow in this area more. Nothing too crazy, I hope…

Posted in Rachel | 3 Comments »

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