House Hunting

We have begun house hunting -- casually. What we hope to find is a small miracle, a steal of a house we can float on (with a few more square feet than we have) in this market of sink holes...

Today was the first day of actually walking inside houses. This, of course, involved Silas and Eden in tow (the realtor walked over to my car as she saw me open the back door and said, "Who do you have with you today?" -- peered inside -- "Oh...both of them." She'll learn that most all of the time that's who I have with me today).

Since our outing bucked against the end of nap, Silas was in needy-mode extraordinaire. This is his MO -- he, like his father, is a slow waker. So walking around house #1, the realtor ended up carrying Eden, so that I could carry giant crying Silas. Awesome.

House #2, which began with a walkway between cracked white plastic pots of fake crumpled flowers, one of which had a VHS tape box stuck in it called something like, "Finding God." ... The owners were home, and I wish you could have seen them. Two thin, curly haired, 70's-mustached, SNL-sketch type guys. Except they were serious. And the house matched them. It became clear that the potted video, along with many other choice items, was placed to tell all that they are Jehovah's Witnesses. And did they ever know how to decorate. The kitchen cabinets were painted yelling dandelion yellow. There were long ribbons and strings of beads over windows and random patches of walls and in doorways. There were clustered piles of pink and white grey silky stuffed animals. A tiger bedspread. Fluffy curtains framing bathroom doors. A giant telescope. ?

House #3 was a completely different experience all together; it was the first visual I've had since this economic crisis began of the desperate sadness people are facing. There was nothing in the house except a couch, a love seat and an empty hutch, a couple of boxes of cereal on the counter. I figured the people had moved out. Then I opened the door to the master bedroom. The scene was a perfect illustration of "depression." The room was dark and black fabric was taped over the windows. There was a mattress on the floor with rumpled bedding. Trash and clothes were piled on either side. The only light was the blue light of the DVD icon screen saver bouncing around the television, also on the floor. I have no idea what the master bathroom looks like because I didn't go in. I couldn't. The realtor didn't bat an eye: "oh this is really common," she said. "When it's really bad is when the kids have written notes on the walls or you find a school picture."

And then in that house of ghosts, we sat down in the bare living room on the single couch and talked about the potential of the space and the lofts we could build.

End day 1.

Old Boxes

Ben and I spent an hour or so digging through a cupboard at my parents' house for Ben's old journal. I poked through boxes of my favorite childhood books, papers I wrote in college, my old sticker book, a handful of stuffed animals, paintings Ben and I made each other while dating, my journal from kindergarten, dolls, wedding notes and plans, photos and letters from high school. And for a few minutes we are 16 again, pink-faced in the snow on a winter retreat, in flannel shirts, running around Washington in easy familiarity, in early love --

Back downstairs, I hear Ben at the piano picking out songs like he used to, and my thoughts are drenched with so many comings and goings, summers in this house and late nights, the friends who still fill and empty it. A daughter on the rug smiling and flapping her arms calls me back to the room and to the task of packing. In the morning we'll leave this house again, not for college but for home, Ben and I and these two children we call our own.

some of that cousin love

and Eden-

At the end of the trip

Finally, on day 10 of our trip east, both chillins are on their usual schedule and are napping at the same time. We are slowly gathering the gifts and socks and books and sweatshirts we have strewn about the house over the last 10 days and heaping them into a pile on the floor. I've bought bread, eggs, milk and peanut butter, to replenish some of the staples we devoured while in town. Ben is getting air in one of Kaia Joye's tires and her oil changed to thank her for letting us use her car as our own. There are many little things to say thank you for and many quiet goodbyes. (and really loud ones, if you are Silas giving them).

I can't imagine how Silas will ease back into our life and routine. In fact, i think there will be no easing but more of a thunking. For the last month he's been swept into a frenzy of non-stop celebration -- birthday parties (why so many birthdays in December??) with moon bounces, pinatas, train rides, chuck0-e-cheese's! There have been visits to Santa, first cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream, plane rides, train rides, cousins, aunts & uncles, god-sisters, more cousins, grandparents, gifts and gifts and gifts, train sets, more aunts and uncles, LOTS of sugar, ice cream, cake, candy galore, guns to play with (I have a lot to say about this, and have bit my tongue so far...), movies, on and on. (exhausting, isn't it?) For a while there, each time he climbed into bed he'd ask "what will we do after THIS nap?" And even if I could delay it, I couldn't really temper his excitement because there always was a next thing.

Tomorrow we will be home. The days will be l o n g because of the time change. The sugar will be gone. The cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles (some of them) will be gone (SOB!). The DC friends will be gone and the constant adoring audience. The anticipation will be met with no firework-events, and we will settle back into home.

I've never had to manage the post-holiday time for a child before. And I've never felt the jolting gear-shift quite so jarringly. I already feel the withdrawal of leaving the busy visiting/playing/running/buzzing. And also the relief of leaving it behind us for a while. Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

The sun is out today. The breeze is quiet and chilly, and the sky is flat-blue, no clouds. Cleansing weather. A New Year lies ahead. I am ready to fly across the country, to detach from all locations and move through an overview for a few hours. I am grateful for a new year, that there is day we stop and look around and within, evaluate whom we are choosing to be and how we are shaping our lives.

I am ready now to unwind, to leave packing and gathering for later and to go stroll under the wintered trees.

Christmas

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Chris was born.

Truly he taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His Gospel is peace.
Chains He shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

O night, divine!

People over Program

One things I learned when I worked on high school staff with Jim Byrne is "people over program." (Jim had a way of boiling concepts into catchy phrases that I haven't been able to shake that still pop into my mind at opportune times -- people over program, lead from within, if you're not 5 minutes early you're late...). People over program means just that -- when it comes down to it, the people are more important than whatever great thing you are planning or working on.

This is the season when my DO tendencies are off the charts. True for a lot of us. The little Christmas-season voice pipes up incessantly: MAKE Christmas cards! FIND ribbon! START packing! RETURN those t-shirts! RUN to See's chocolates! BUY stamps! WRITE a grocery list, a gift list, a card list! MAIL presents! CALL a babysitter! GET ONLINE and order books, or toys, or etsy gifts!

The problem -- and great fun -- is listening to that voice and GOING! It's chilly. We are wearing sweaters. We stop for coffees. We fill up on cheap gas. We jump start the economy with all of our buying. We cross things off our lists. We, the people, are going!

And the problem -- and great fun -- is that I have two wee children who are interfering in all this going. I find -- as so many people have found before me -- that when I turn the focus of my day away from them and to myself, without fail the day becomes wildly bumpy and my patience instantly paper-thin.

So my true task is to boil down the fluffy-marshmallow-Christmas-excitement and sip what's really important: Silas and Eden (and the Christmas cards and present-buying -- see? this is hard to let go of). But I know The cards will get written and sent. I will finish gathering presents. My giant suitcase will be stuffed. Realistically I can hammer each of these out in a focused hour or two. What I can't do is rewind the month to refocus on Silas and Eden.

The quiet pressing fact is that Silas won't always ask me to play with him on the rug. Eden won't always be a smiling, squealing baby banging toys on the floor. They are actually what is fleeting; the season will come back around next year.

And so, once again I'm reminded to put my people over my programs.
[Thanks, Jim.]

New PICS

Here are some pictures from the last month: