The Return of Brown Bear

 I didn't expect to have a sequel to our story, much less such a happy ending. But God has a way of surprising us with joy, particularly when it fosters our children's faith in Him.

Yesterday morning I got a call from the secretary at Clare's school.

"You were the ones who lost the bear, right?" Ms. D asked. "Have you found him?"

I told her we hadn't.

"Well, I think we may have him. When I came in this morning, there was a bear on my desk. Is your bear tan with eyes you can barely see?"

"Um, kind of. Maybe it's him! We'll come check!"

I tried to keep the kids and me grounded as we got ready to go to the school. "It may not be him," I warned. "After all, he's not really tan, more caramel." (And it's an elementary school where kids often bring their stuffed friends, and it has been a week-and-a-half...) But there was a chance! Evie and Jon discussed the pros and cons.

Eventually Jon and I arrived at the office; he dashed to the door while I followed with bated breath. We stepped inside...and there was Brown Bear, looking fit as ever, and waiting patiently for a little boy to swoop him up in a death-grip hug.

Where Brown Bear has hidden this past week is a mystery. Jon informed me that Brown Bear had come down in a space ship to Clare's school, but I haven't seen the space ship. Maybe it's hidden by an improbability field.

"Where was he while he was gone?" I asked Jon.

"At a fwend's house," Jon said.

So there you have it.

But can I just say, it's hard to find something sweeter than this:

A Boy and His Bear

Last Monday our family experienced one of those tragedies that every mother prays will never happen: the loss of a lovey. Jon's dearly-loved teddy, Brown Bear, went missing, and we have not been able to find him.


Brown Bear joined our family about ten years ago when he was given to Keren after one of her hospital visits. He was a soft, cuddly creature with a royal blue shirt from Kohl's Kids to Children's Hospital of Detroit. Over the years he sat on shelves, adorned beds, and got stuffed away in bins. Then last year, somehow, magically, like the Velveteen Rabbit, he became Jon's favorite and was dubbed "Brown Bear."

Brown Bear and Jon have had many adventures, and this is not the first time Brown Bear has performed a disappearing act. Typically, though, we've known exactly where he was and he was brought home post-haste. He's spent a day at Jon's buddy Michael's house. He's done two overnights at Grammy and Poppa's (partying with the stuffed friends there, I told Jon). His latest shenanigans involved staying at Jon's cousins' up north...though thankfully Grandma and Grandpa were returning a day later than us and could bring him home. So yes, Brown Bear is a little sneaky. But this time he pulled a trick that none of us can solve.

When we realized Monday night that Brown Bear had gone missing, I wasn't too concerned. I thought through our events of the afternoon (which, unfortunately, involved at least two outings) and tried to remember when I'd last seen our plush friend. Maybe he'd been left at Clare's school playground when we picked her up? Maybe he'd snuck into Mrs. Donna's house when we went for Clare's piano lesson? My mind was a blank. Jon, thankfully, went to bed without a problem and barely asked after his friend.

Tuesday brought no answers and I tried not to worry...and not to mention the missing bear to Jon who whiled his day away without concern. Wednesday went well, too, but no Brown Bear. It wasn't until Wednesday night that I think Jon realized something was wrong, and as I tucked him in, he started to cry for his bear. It was devastating. It didn't help that I was pretty sad about it, too. I mean, this was Brown Bear we were talking about! He'd been in the family for a decade and was one of those little things that linked Keren and Jon. He was Jon's close companion who cuddled so adorably under Jon's arm and flew so fantastically when thrown in the air. I wanted to burst into tears along with my boy, but knew I had to be strong and help him find something positive in the midst of sadness.

"I think, Jon," I said, "that Brown Bear has gone on another adventure, and this time it's a really big

one. Maybe--" I thought of Jon's favorite naptime audio stories of Winnie-the-Pooh, "Maybe Brown Bear thought that he would be like Winnie-the-Pooh and go on an expotition to the North Pole. Or maybe he's on an expotition to somewhere else exciting since Pooh has already found that."

More tears, but Clare and Ev got in on it adding their ideas as to Brown Bear's adventures. Jon eventually eased off into dreamland and I drew a ragged breath of relief. It was helpful, though, to imagine Brown Bear off on adventures, and I thought maybe I'd start writing some little letters from Brown Bear to Jon. Ideas started percolating.

I was a bit concerned the next day because every time Jon brought up Brown Bear his sisters supplied wild possibilities. Ev called out, "Jon! I got a letter from Brown Bear and he's gone away forever!" Great. Real helpful, Dear. And hey, that letter idea was mine! Clare posed the thought that perhaps he'd been stolen. Another joyful consideration. But little by little, Jon was drawn into the play and soon had Brown Bear shooting off in a space ship. Brown Bear has since joined up with Winnie-the-Pooh and is exploring the 100 Acre Wood, along with other places. The sweetest thing was what I discovered by Jon's head when I went to wake him from his nap that day. During rest time, Evie had created a little book that Brown Bear had "written" to Jon to tell him where he was and how he was doing and how he remembered his time with Jon.

So it would seem that Brown Bear has left our home to adventure out into the wide, wide world. I am thankful for imaginations and love surrounding my little ones here at home so that they can embrace his adventures that salves sore hearts. I will admit, mine still has a bit of an ache. But then I picture Brown Bear headed off to Pooh's house for some honey and sweetened condensed milk, and I can't help but smile.

Ev's Letter from Brown Bear

Three Things I Have Loved, Four Things I've Adored

Valentine’s Day has come and gone again with varying emotions… Does exhaustion count as an emotion? I’ve felt that way about Valentine’s Day at times over the past few years as my kids bring home a class list of all the valentines they need to write out, and Mom gets to help her dear ones put all of these together and make sure they get to the right place at the right time. Romance? Candlelight dinners with hubby? Not so much. Despite this, I will say there is a lot of love going around, and as crazy as school valentines get, I am thankful for a time to focus on the ones I love.

I am also thankful—so thankful—for the One who loves me most, often in spite of me. I had this paraphrase from Proverbs running through my head the other day: “Three things I have loved, four things I have adored…” In the past month, I ran into three popular ideas that are actually kind of skewed, and was reminded of four truths that I love.

The first idea was “God never promised us a rose garden.” When I heard it, something rang wrong. It’s such a common phrase, and there’s a lot of truth in looking at life realistically and knowing it won’t all be fragrant and beautiful. Yet this time I thought, “But God has promised us a rose garden!” He’s promised us His peace, His love, and in the future, perfect happiness with Him. What’s more rosy than that? The thing is, roses have thorns, and we will experience pain, trials, stretching and suffering along with the beauty as we walk through this life. In fact, the roses are all the more beautiful because of the thorns. They are a vital part of that rose garden God has given us. I love Him for that.

Second, how often have you heard the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle”? It’s always bugged me, but I couldn’t put a finger on why.Then a facebook friend shared a note posted by a woman she knew who had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s at age 38. “Contrary to popular opinion,” the woman with Parkinson’s wrote, “I think that God quite often lets us face more than we can handle, so that when we do get through the hardship, we can say, 'Not me. I didn't do this; it was God.'” That’s it! I love that it’s not about me. It’s about letting God work so people can see His glory and come to know Him.

The third idea seems to dovetail with the other two: I read a blog post called, “The Myth of God’s Unconditional Love.” It was a catchy title, and the content was engaging, but I realized as I read that the theology was off, the author never clearly defined what God’s love was, and his examples lacked context. But I have known ones who believe that we might take one awful misstep and Christ will say, “Sorry. I said I died for you, but that’s one thing too much. You’re out.” I have a problem with this idea. Yes, God is just and sin must be judged. I would never argue that. But that was the whole purpose of Christ’s death—that we can be forgiven because the sin-price was paid. Yes, there will be consequences for sin, even for those who have accepted Christ, but we are held in His hand, sealed with His Spirit, and have the promise that once we are born into His family, He will bring us to maturity. This I love. This I can live for.

And the final thing I love? That even though I feel like the older I get, the less I seem to know, God knows me completely, and loves me. To quote a friend who blogged about this recently: “Jesus knows me, this I love.”

Happy Valentine’s Day! May the truth of these loves go with you in the year to come.

When All Else Fails, Use the Driveway for Sledding

…Though, to tell the truth, nothing actually failed. I was just too lazy to take the kids to a real sledding hill today.

“You should take the kids sledding,” Kraig said as he headed to work this morning, bravely facing a morning commute that would involve snowy roads with an underlying layer of ice that had closed schools for the day.

“Maybe…” I said noncommittally.

It’s not that I haven’t taken the kids sledding before, or that they wouldn’t have behaved well. That wasn’t my concern. We’ve had wonderful outings; just a couple weeks ago we bundled up to meet friends on a lovely, snowy day, and had the snow hill all to ourselves. I was glad we’d made the effort that day. In fact, this year we’ve gotten out more than any other year, taking advantage of real snow. Last year we barely had one snowfall. There was just enough to slide down our driveway.

But there it is. We can sled down our driveway, and today that’s all I wanted to do. It’s not a huge slant, and it makes for a slow slide, but it works when push comes to shove (and trust me, you usually have to do both to get things moving). So when the day flew by with a fairly quiet morning at home, followed by lunch with Grandma and Grandpa, then a dental appointment for Clare, it made sense to enjoy the great outdoors from the comfort of our own driveway. I don’t regret it, and as you can see, the kids didn’t either. Added to the fun was a visit with neighbors we rarely see due to vastly different schedules. Imaginations took flight, sleds slid and slushed, cheeks grew rosy and laughter rippled.

The Warnemuende sledding hill had opened for business.

The Wonder is in the Details

“This is crazy!” I laughed to a friend as we walked out of the school after dropping off our kids. The snow swirled around us and nipped at our faces; faces that had practically basked in unseasonable warmth the day before.

“I like to look at the snowflake,” Kunie said, holding her white-speckled gloves up before her.

Her words stopped me, and for a minute we checked out the individual flakes, each perfect and unique in its beauty.

When we arrived home, Jon wanted to shovel the driveway. As he plowed his way through the mounting drifts he exclaimed, “Snow is be-yew-tiful! Ice is be-yew-tiful!”

And if you really think about it, he is right. Sure it might be a pain to drive in, and its cold is bitter to the bones, but it’s a marvelous creation. I was reminded of a portion of Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl, by N. D. Wilson, where the author describes a snowstorm. “How many snowflakes are there in one storm?” he poses. “And yet God knows every single one of them. Every detail. In fact, He created each one.” To God, a snowstorm is a chance to wax eloquent. He doesn’t just say, “Snow!” and let the bounty fall. It’s more like, “Snowflake, snowflake, snowflake, snowflake!” Each one is special, and each gives Him joy.

How much more joy does each of us give Him? Think of the detail that goes into each of our bodies and minds, into the frames of our husbands and kids, of our friends and family. If we really take the time to contemplate that, it might be harder to get caught in the doldrums of hum-ho everyday life. Or worse, get angry and frustrated at those amazing creations. (Believe me, I’m not preaching at you in this. I’m part of the audience!)

Now if I can just remember this truth when I’m helping the kids get ten-zillion Valentines ready for their classmates in a couple weeks :) ….

A Life Worth Living

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying,

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

And before you were born I consecrated you;

I have appointed you a prophet to the nations."

~Jeremiah 1:4, 5 (NASB)

For You formed my inward parts;

You wove me in my mother's womb...

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;

And in Your book were all written

The days that were ordained for me,

When as yet there was not one of them."

~Psalm 139:13 & 16 (NASB)

On September 27, 2002, I became a mom to our firstborn, Keren Elyse. But on the day of her tenth birthday last fall, our celebration was one of remembrance, because it was Keren's fourth birthday in Heaven. Today marks the fourth anniversary of the day she left us. We aren't celebrating, and it's hard sometimes to know how best to handle this day. 

I am not swamped with grief today. Kraig said yesterday that the tears were close to the surface for him this weekend, and that was true for me, too. But for me, that's not debilitating grief. It's poignant, but I am thankful for it, because it means I haven't forgotten our girl. No, the grief I hate is the dead depression that hits me now and then without warning. It's bound to hit at some point in January, and this year it came right after a wonderful, but also highly stressful, Christmas. I can blame some of that on the post-Christmas blues, but it was definitely more than that. I think it was that realization that January was here...again...and I'd have to get through the 28th, along with many other days of remembrance that mark this cold, bleak month. I know God is in control of these days, and that there is beauty amidst the grief, mainly because I know that He understands our suffering and walks through it with us. He lets me pound my fists on His chest and ask, "How long? When can we be done with this broken world?" He closes me in His arms and weeps with me, and I am comforted.

For some reason this year it has hit me more forcefully than usual how close the day of Keren's death is to the date of Roe vs. Wade. It seems fitting to remember how precious her life was, and how much she taught us about what "quality of life" truly means in light of that day that now marks more than 50,000,000 deaths to children who never got a chance for life. I know Kraig and I are counter-cultural. Why in the world would we have wanted a child who could do nothing for herself? Who would never contribute to society, and if anything be a drain on that society? Why would we want to give up our dreams and goals to give her life? But we did. Because it was the only right thing to do. If we believed God and took Him at His word, then there was no gray. Our choice was black and white. Each life, no matter how long it exists, is one formed by God and set into place with purpose. It is not for us to end it.

Keren had six years, four months and a day. That was longer than we'd been led to expect, and shorter than we had hoped. But they were the exact number of days that God had ordained, and her life had and has eternal effect. For one thing, she taught us that even those who will never be independent can teach us much about unconditional love. She forced us, simply by being, to look beyond our own dreams and let God guide us--and we have lived with that principle since. Her death has helped us understand others' grieving in loss, and so we can encourage each other and lift each other up as a result. Sometimes I wonder if I'm able to relate well enough to others because for the most part my life has charged on and I don't burst into tears every time I hear of another death. God is stretching our family and growing us in new ways, teaching us new things. But then I talk with a friend who has lost someone close, and I realize that I can relate and in my own way grieve with her. I am still learning how all that works--that strange dance of grief and joy.

So how do I remember Keren today? With this post, for what it's worth. It is a word cast out into the world to affirm life, to affirm Christ and His work, and to affirm my trust that God has His hand on each day of my life and of the lives of those around me.

Treasures for the Senses and Soul

 Last summer Kraig and I got to take our kids to one of our favorite places on earth, Michigan's Upper Peninsula Pictured Rocks Lakeshore. It was a glorious week, to say the least. But one thing that added to the joy was we were able to connect with Mike and Suzanne who live in that neck of the woods. Suzanne and I had "met" in The Rabbit Room, and were both headed to the Room's conference, Hutchmoot, at the end of September.

It was going to be both of our first conference, and while we were excited, we were nervous about the unknown aspects of the adventure. After all, we only knew everyone digitally. How helpful it was to meet each other in person ahead of time, knowing that there would be at least one familiar face when we got to Nashville. In fact, God in His perfect timing arranged it so that Suzanne was outside when I arrived at the conference, and so made my entrance that much less stressful! Not only that, but Mike was available to pick my sister up at the airport when her flight was delayed. Thanks to him, I didn't have to miss dinner to go get her (And considering the food at Hutchmoot, it was something I was selfishly not wanting to miss!). Since the conference, we've had to follow each other online again, but the friendship has been formed, and we're looking forward to seeing them once more in person.

This year, The Rabbit Room proprietors hosted a Secret Santa, where names could be entered and then handed out randomly. We could reveal ourselves or not as desired, but the fun was in sending a gift to one perhaps not well-known, but very likely of similar tastes due to the nature of the group. I put together my gift and sent it off with a little fear and trembling, then waited excitedly for what might appear on my doorstep.

And then the box came...and amazingly my Secret Santa lived in Michigan! Not only that, the address was surprisingly close to--wait--Pictured Rocks!? I couldn't believe it! Suzanne realized, too, that her identity wouldn't be hidden, and while she didn't technically give me her name, her gift had the UP written all over it. I love the way God wove the pieces. Check out the gifts on the left. The "stone" soap brings back memories of our families tossing and skipping rocks in and on Lake Superior (you never run out of rocks there). The pottery and bracelet (the latter made of local stones) reflect the colors found in that beautiful part of the world.

It is truly a gift from a friend, one like so many I have met now online and in person through the Rabbit Room. God keeps bringing our lives together, and I can't wait to see what the future holds.

The Magic Life

I spent the last four days in a place of magic. It was a place where song and laughter flowed as freely as spring rain, where words and wit flipped and tripped and eyes sparkled, where food was art that enriched all the senses. It was a place where the Spirit of the Great Magician hovered, warming us with His presence.

It was a place I entered with trepidation. The dark magic of fear and self-focus taunted me with lies: "You won't fit in like you think you will. That anticipation you feel now? It's just headed for a crash." I had to draw the Sword of Truth to fight off this darkness and to remember that I was loved by the Great Magician no matter what I discovered in this place. I knew that most of all I wanted to experience the magic the He had for me, not concoct some mediocre potion of my own dreams. And Truth won, and dark magic was defeated, and joy reigned.

And then it was time to come home.

But the magic did not disappear.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Why do I think the Great Magician only holds sway in one lovely corner of the world? There is magic wherever I go. There was magic in the conversation I had with a college student on the plane ride home—a fellow Truth-follower who saw with clarity the joy of trusting the Great Magician. There was magic in the simple joy of opening the back of our minivan and seeing the glowing smiles and golden hair of my daughters, in the thrill of my son’s squeal of delight, and in the richness of my husband’s kiss. There was magic when I learned that though my sister’s flight home was delayed she dined with new friends, and didn't sit alone for all of those hours.

This morning I still saw the magic. I could see the Magician’s touch in my response to a cranky son who didn’t know what to do with Mommy now that she had come home. I relished the beauty of our walk to school with the windswept sky that stretched wide over a green field, and I reveled in the brisk air that tickled my nose. The magic of a tractor mower enchanted my son, while my girls and I breathed deep the scent of mown grass. There were friends to greet, and the world was overflowing.

It was harder to find the magic this evening. Tempers flared—including mine—but I was still able to step back and remember. The Great Magician hadn’t left. I could still see His work if I looked. I held out my hand to my kids and asked, “What is this made of?” Distraction, wonder. The Magician was still speaking and we lived and breathed.

I am sure that in the days to come I will have many moments when I forget that I live amidst this good, good magic. I hope that in those moments I will take the time to step back and look and really see.

And if all else fails, my children will remind me that a dinosaur named Henley lives in the creek by the school, the evil giant Chompchucks lurks in our neighborhood, and if I’m not careful, the lava between the sidewalk cracks may explode on me.

After the magic I saw last weekend I wouldn’t be surprised if even this were true.

Problems, Solutions...Or Something New?

Early this summer I picked up a book that I'd seen recommended a number of times: The Mind of the Maker, by Dorothy L. Sayers. I'm an old fan of Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey mystery novels, but I hadn't forged past those to read her other writings, many that highlight her insights into living for Christ. The Mind of the Maker seemed a good place to start, and when a blog friend of mine started an online discussion of the book within weeks of my venture, it proved to be the perfect summer read. Not to mention, having a group discussion helped me pace it and push on through the heavier bits.

And what a journey it has been! I can definitely say that I loved Sayers' writing as much in this book as I always have in her novels. I wish I could think like her; she lays ideas out, elaborates, focuses in, and zings with her final points. She's a master of logical arguments. Kraig could probably keep pace with her, but for me it's a slow process. But her work is as beautiful as a perfect geometry theorem (and from a non-math-person like me, that's a huge complement). My favorite part of the book was chapter seven, "Maker of All Things--Maker of Ill Things," in which Sayers lays out an argument for why evil exists and the part God plays in it. I won't even attempt to detail it here because I would completely botch her argument, so you'll just have to go read it yourself. There is this point with which she concludes the chapter, though, that goes with what I'm getting to:

"The Fall had taken place and Evil had been called into active existence; the only way to transmute Evil into Good was to redeem it by creation. But, the Evil having been experienced, it could be redeemed only within the medium of experience--that is, by an incarnation in which experience was fully and freely in accordance with the Idea [God]." (p. 107)

So the Creator God gave us Christ, and through Christ, we (and all of His creation) can be redeemed, bought back, rescued.

In the final chapter, Chapter 11, "Problem Picture," Sayers fleshes out this concept of redemption. She targets a cultural tendency that thinks of everything in terms of problems and solutions. Think of how we approach everything: Here is the problem (e.g. "I am sick") and here is the solution ("I will follow such-and-such procedure and I will be cured."). Unfortunately, reality is not that cut and dry. We don't have neat little problems, Sayers points out, like a detective novel that can be solved with all the pieces tied up.

For many people, the fact that the problems of life can't be neatly solved is horrible. What kind of God would make a world that can't be fixed? But the whole point is, that isn't how God works! He doesn't "solve" the "problem" by what we think of as "fixing it". If that were the case, when Adam and Eve admitted to eating the fruit, He would have simply restored Eden to its innocence, knocked Satan out of the picture forever, and that would have been that. Nice idea, but within the construct of His creation it doesn't work. Innocence was lost, Evil was active, and the knowledge of good and evil had entered into the human soul. The only true solution was redemption. A price had to be paid in order to buy us back. All things could only be made new through Christ's sacrifice.

Sayers takes this concept of making things new into our human realm, for her theory is that as God is the Creator, his creation reflects Him; therefore, humans have a desire to create--we have the mind of a maker :) . Humans desire to make something new out of what we have. Obviously we reflect God dimly, particularly because of sin, but the image is there and now and then shines out (more so as we let Christ live through us). So with that perspective, how do we deal with the problems of life? We don't try to "solve" them and restore things to what they were before the problem existed; that's impossible. The person who successfully fights off cancer will never be restored to the same state of health he was in previous to the illness. He will never be that same person mentally or spiritually, either. He has been made new. His life is now a new creation.

"If, therefore, we are to deal with our 'problems' in 'a creative way,' we must deal with them along the artist's lines: not expecting to 'solve' them by a detective trick, but to 'make something of them,' even when they are, strictly speaking, insoluble." (p. 193)

 I realized that this has been how I've looked at problems for a long time. When Keren died, what put my feelings into words for me was Steve Saint's article, "God's Purpose In Our Suffering." I believed God was in control and that Keren's death wasn't some pointless tragedy. But when I read how this man came to see that God had purposed a tragedy in his family's life to bring others to Christ and bring God glory I saw hope. Keren's life and death was not in vain. Even our grief in losing her wasn't pointless. There was no need to try to "solve" our "problem" of grief. God could take it all, would take it all, and make it something more beautiful than I could ever imagine. And in the past three-and-a-half years I've seen flashes of that truth, and I have no doubt I will continue to see it. Kraig and I are still figuring out what all this means for our future.


Our pastor recently started a series on Nehemiah, and has been focusing on how the rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem is similar to ways our church is trying to rebuild after a number of years of upheaval. Sunday he spoke on chapter four and "Dealing with the Inevitable." In other words, when you are in the midst of doing something big for God, it is inevitable that obstacles will arise. It is easy to get discouraged and sidetracked: "It will never be the way it was! There are too many problems, we can't fix them!" The truth is that of course things won't be the way they were, and that there are problems. But that's not the whole truth. God's truth is that He can use us, and work through us to create something new and mighty and beautiful, and that we will be strengthened through the problems we face, and the world will see His glory.

It hit me this morning that another area where this applies for me is with our mom's group at church, REAL moms, of which I'm the coordinator. In the past number of years we have watched our numbers and resources shrink considerably. There are many factors as to why this is, but I've often fought discouragement concerning this. After all, we were such a great outreach program for the church, and we still have many amazing resources for moms of young kids. Why can't we still be that? What can we do to go back to that? Thankfully I've had a mentor and a team who have encouraged me to see what God is doing now in a new way. Last year, though our group was small, it became a place where women could come and share things that were going on in their lives, things they may not have been comfortable to share in a bigger group. Our team saw that our role was one of equipping and challenging each mom to go out into her own community and live Christ daily. It became a place of discipleship more than evangelism, which is awesome, particularly if each person is then becoming a light in her own neighborhood. I'm excited to see how God will continue to use each of us in the group.

I realized that I've got to act on this perspective of making things "new creations". I'm not going to look for simple 1-2-3 solutions to restore things to how they were. I won't expect to see things wrapped up in a nice little package with a bow on top. No, I will look to see how God is making things new, and I will strive to work in God's creation to make something of what He has given me. And to Him be the glory, forever!
 

Goodbyes

This morning our friends the Heathcocks moved away. It's been coming for the past few months, but today was IT, and they are off to new worlds and new adventures. Those whom they've left behind are thrilled for them, because it's a great move, but today there is a big hole. We've been friends for a long time, and in the past four years we've been neighbors. It's not like we hung out a lot; in fact, usually our schedules were so different that we'd only manage brief greetings at church. But I knew they were there. More than that, I knew we could depend on them, trust them, connect with them on deep levels. There was history. There was faith. There was family. Time together wasn't a requirement.

I know I've said before that I hate change. And I hate goodbyes. Yesterday we said goodbye, and it was the same day we said goodbye to Clare's teacher who will probably be moved to a different school in the fall, and to classmates who may or may not be in Clare's class next year. Too many goodbyes for one day. This morning it hit me like a flood when I walked over to Heathcocks' house and saw the door and garage shut, and listened to the moving truck purring in the driveway. "This chapter is done," it droned. It's not just that this goodbye is hard; it's that truth that this is not the first or the last goodbye in my life. It is a goodbye in an ever-increasing list.

Yesterday morning at breakfast Clare and Ev asked again, rather pragmatically, "Why do the Heathcocks have to move?" They are losing a playmate; the Heathcocks' youngest son fit nicely between our Clare and Ev, and often popped over to play, or the girls would ask to go see "if Matthew was available." Jon was starting to refer to him by name, starting to look up to him as an older brother. He was an extra kid, as fun and frustrating as my own. Despite this loss, my kids aren't heartbroken. In some ways it's because the reality that Matthew will not be available hasn't sunk in. However, it's also because they live in the now and so far change hasn't bothered them much.

We talked about why Heathcocks were moving, and how it was such a great thing for their family. "I don't ever want to move," Clare said. "Yeh," I answered, "but if God wants you to move then it's so much better to go than to stay. You'll only be unhappy if you aren't doing what God wants you to do." And I knew as I spoke that I was reminding myself of this as much as telling my daughter. "If we do what God wants us to do, then He can use us to touch the most people possible so they might come to know Him. And that's the best thing of all, really, isn't it?" Clare nodded, though at almost seven she's not grasping the full weight of all of that. For that matter, I'm still trying to grasp this truth.

And so, today I am saying goodbye with a heavy heart. I know in my head that there will be new hellos tomorrow, and new adventures for our own family. But I can't help but look forward to my Heaven-home when there will be no more goodbyes.

"Basic" Chili

A couple months ago I decided it was time to branch out in my cooking and try a new red chili recipe. Up to this point, when I wanted to do a red one I threw a few cans of beans into the crock pot along with sauteed ground beef (or turkey) and onion, a can of diced tomatoes, taco seasoning and maybe some garlic. It was good, and it worked, particularly with babies on hand. But the babies are growing, and I have a little extra time to try more elaborate recipes. In addition to that, a friend of mine keeps including amazing crock pot recipes in our REAL moms newsletter, all of which originate at the blog A Year of Slow Cooking, by Stephanie O'Dea. Another friend handed me one of O'Dea's cookbooks, and I fell completely in love and have been trying recipes right and left since. Of all of them, though, I think the supreme find has been her "Basic Chili," which, while easy, is anything but basic when it comes to flavor.

I'd say that if you wanted to try this you could just go to O'Dea's site and follow her recipe (and it would be amazing), but since I did a little tweaking, I decided to post the whole recipe here, the way I made it. I'll leave you to determine your own results!

Ingredients:
1 lb. ground turkey
1 diced onion
4 15 oz. cans beans, rinsed & drained (I usually use dark red kidney beans & some black beans)
8 garlic cloves, minced
2 15 oz. cans diced tomatoes (these can be drained)
1 15 oz. can tomato sauce
3 T chili powder*
2 t cumin
1 t black pepper
salt to taste
1 T Frank's Hot Sauce
jalepeno pepper slices (you decide how much!)

Directions:
Saute the onion and ground turkey till the turkey is browned. Dump into a large crock pot with all other ingredients. Stir contents and set to cook: Low heat for a good six hours (you can go longer--it doesn't hurt) or high for four.

* The second time I went to make this I realized I was all out of chili powder. I've been wondering what goes into chili powder, and had a suspicion I had all of the necessary spices. So I googled "chili powder" and came up with a lovely assortment of recipes, ranging from a simple mix of spices to ones made completely from scratch. Someday when the kids are grown I might try it from scratch. For now, I'll stick with mixing store-bought spices!

All that to say, though, I love the homemade chili powder. I think it adds great taste to the chili. The whole this is what Kraig describes as "bright." Here's the chili powder mix if you'd like to try it:

Mix the following:
2 T smoked paprika
2 t oregano
1 1/4 t cumin
1 1/4 t garlic powder
1 1/4 t cayenne pepper
3/4 t onion powder

This makes a little over the 3 tablespoons needed for the chili. You could probably dump the whole batch into the chili and it would just improve it. I think I might try that next time!

So there you have it. Basic chili at its finest. And to be even more basic, I have no photo to go along with this. I obviously am not used to food-blogging :) .

The Hardest Choice

My dear daughter Clare is a little--um--strong-willed. In many ways this is a blessing. I know where she stands on things, and she knows what she believes and isn't interested in following the latest trends. She's bright and boisterous, golden-haired and glorious. I never dreamed how she would so truly live up to the meaning of her name: "Brilliant light." There are many times I'm blinded by her (or sideswiped, befuddled, flabbergasted--those are other good descriptors).

So, yes, strong-willed. Unfortunately, a strong will out of control can be like a bolt of lightning, burning everything it touches. And while Clare has rained down her bolts off and on over the years, we've lately had an increase in them, and as a result she makes herself and everyone around her miserable. We think we've hit on a way to work with this, but it's one of those tricky discipline things. On the one hand, the behavior must stop--it's not acceptable--and Clare needs to be given the tools and structure to help it stop. On the other hand, we don't want a behavior change to be merely external. If her heart hasn't changed, no outward appearance is going to be worth beans down the road. We don't want our daughter to appear to be a "good little Christian" who has a heart full of rebellion. So that change is not something we can force on her. It has to be a decision made between her and the God she loves with all of her fiery heart.

That's what makes our ongoing conversations so frustrating every time we see a potential lightning storm. They often sound like this: 

"Clare, you have a choice. You can choose to throw a tantrum about this, or you can choose to accept it." 

"Urggh!!! You're making me angry!" 

"No Clare, you're choosing to be angry. I don't have control over that, you do." 

(Groan, mumble, complain.) 

"Clare, you can ask Jesus to help you make the right choice. He wants to help you, but he can't unless you ask him." 

(More stomping of feet and gnashing of teeth.)

To tell the truth, I just want to shake her or hold her tightly or something and yell, "Why are you making this so difficult??? Don't you know you would be so much happier if you would just accept this with grace and move on? Why are you trying to be miserable and drag everyone down with you?"

Inevitably at this point, though, a still small Voice nudges me and asks kindly, but wryly, "Sounds kind of familiar, huh?"

In John 14:15 Jesus says, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments." He's not laying down the law in a high-and-mighty "I'm God and you had better obey me" way. He's stating a simple fact that is one of the hardest of all things for me to internalize. When you truly love someone who is put in authority over you (like God, or parents) you want to be like them. The way to be like them is to do what they instruct as the way to live.

I want to be like Christ. Really. I can't imagine anything more amazing than loving like him, having his wisdom, and kindness, and compassion. I want to live in complete obedience to God like Christ did, to the point where he was willing to lay down his own life because he knew it was the only way to save us. He faced the biggest fears anyone could face, the fears of persecution and death, with grace and humility. And God was glorified. I want my life to be like that!!!

But when I dive into my daily routine I find that I'm not faced with dramatic choices of life or death. I don't have opportunities to exhibit epic heroism for Christ. Instead, I have to get three children out the door so we get to school on time. I have to make sure that they are fed and hopefully dressed by then, and that their hair is at least brushed (forget fancy hairdos). I need to be sure that my family is fed, so there are grocery runs and meals to make. I want my husband to feel somewhat relaxed when he arrives home from an exhausting work day, so it's helpful if the house looks slightly picked-up. These are just a few parts of the routine. Add to that the non-stop interactions with the kids which range from the joyful and hilarious to the grating, frustrating and angering.

When the frustration starts to boil I know I'm walking a line and I have a choice to make. I can go my way and let the temper overflow. Doesn't it feel great to blow up now and then? And after all, the kids have deliberately pushed my buttons. They made me angry, right? So in a way they deserve my anger that can spew and roll over them like lava. We'll all just wash it off later. No lingering effects. Right....

 

My other choice is to step back and pray. To take my hands off and say, "Lord, I can't do this. My attitude sucks right now and any love, patience, kindness, and self-control here is going to have to come from you. I choose to obey you and let you work."

How does this play out? The few times when I've truly done this, the results have been shocking, but not because they were supernaturally miraculous. Rather, they seemed completely natural. I was still in the midst of the situation with my kids, but my perspective changed and I wasn't boiling with anger any more. I hadn't done anything to change my attitude, and so it wasn't till later that I realized there had been a change...and that change could only have happened supernaturally.

It seems so simple and obvious that the best choice is to obey. And yet over and over again I am fighting it. And the reason I am is because if I step back and let God take the reins I am giving up control and I don't know what the result will be. If I hold onto my anger, I can guarantee the result: the kids will be upset and I'll be kicking myself for the day with my guilty conscience. But hey! I got to keep control over that situation!

So as we talk with Clare about making the right choice, I find I'm talking to myself over and over again. And I'm praying more that my words will not just be for show, and that my desire for her obedience won't be so that I'll be the great Mom-in-control. I'm praying that she'll learn how to make this difficult choice now when she's young so she isn't fighting it so hard when she gets to be my age. Who knows how many marvelous things God will be able to do in her life as a result!

Since Valentine's Day Was Last Week....

Valentine's Day is not a big deal at our house for a few reasons, but in recent years, this year particularly, it brought little to no pleasure for me. I'm not a Valentine's Day hater or anything; in fact, I give it more weight than most "Hallmark Holidays" because it actually has a history that dates back to Roman times and the early Christians. For this reason, I'm letting it stand on our calendar.

But there a few reasons why we don't make it a big deal. I could blame it on my Dearly Beloved, who is not a romantic. I'm not being sarcastic when I call him "Dearly Beloved," because Kraig really is that. I am blessed with a husband who I can trust with my life, who loves me despite all my foibles, and who does everything he can to support our family and be a great dad. More than that, he deeply desires to do God's will in everything, which gives him first place in my view. But romance and special occasions are not his forte. Once in a long while he blows me away with something amazing, but after almost seventeen years of marriage, and three years of dating prior to that, I've come to expect that as the exception, not the rule.

Really, though, that's not the only factor. As much as I'd like to think I'm a romantic, I'm not. Practicality always wins out. Yes, Kraig could by me flowers, or chocolate, or a lovely card, but then what? I'd like the flowers, but they'll wilt and have to be thrown away. The chocolate would be yummy (and he'd know to get good, dark chocolate, too). But do I really want more candy kicking around the house? And the card would be a lovely sentiment, but do I keep it forever to add to my ever-growing pile of papers, or do I toss it? I won't even mention a costly dinner out with a babysitter and what that would do to the budget.... Yep, don't like that thought.

But then this year there was one more thing that just about put me over the edge: the valentines needed for my kids and their programs. We had five occasions that required valentines this year, and two of those also required a covered shoebox, one fully-decorated. Clare and Ev, for educational purposes, had to address and sign their valentines. This is good practice, but it meant a week of little stickers and valentines that had to be brought out and then put away until all were done and put in little bags to be sent to school. Then, once the class parties were over, there was the question of what to do with all those not-so-dear valentines brought home that, heaven forbid, we throw out! I won't even go into the fact that this also meant more candy coming home which then has to be dealt with.

Sigh! Cynical, aren't I?

To say the least, I knew when February 14 rolled around this past week, I'd better come up with something special for us to do or I'd wallow in self-pity and loathing for the whole day.

So Evie, Jon and I made a cake. Cake-making, in this house, is a special treat. I like to make cakes that taste good, and I think those who have had them would agree I typically succeed. Ev loves to help (and Jon thinks he does), so it's a great chance to help them learn things like mixing and measuring. There's also the added benefit of licking spoons and bowls afterward, which Clare got home in time to take part in :) .

While I can make a truly delicious cake, decorating is not my strength. We started with a delicious buttercream frosting, so no problems there. Color and design, though, always are a problem. Ev and I first thought we'd work with a palate of pink, red, and white, but then we saw raspberry on the back of our food coloring box and decided to try that. The result was rather more purple than we expected, which put a damper on creating red hearts for decoration. So we made our red into a darker purple...with limited success. The bright green helped a bit, but you'll have to judge the results:

I can assure you, though, that it tasted marvelous. The fact that I added an extra ounce of chocolate to the batter didn't hurt either.

The kids approved the whole process, and my Dearly Beloved and I have enjoyed the results this week, too.

So while I'm still a Valentine's Day cynic, at least we had something that made this week a treat.

The Butterfly Effect

There is a part of me that never forgets this day of the year and always dreads it. A part of me that would rather it didn't sit there on the calendar, waiting, reminding. And yet this morning it was only as an afterthought I realized that the time during which I made breakfast and ate it with my family was the same time of day my eldest daughter died three years ago.

Oh such great significance her life and death that it's only as an afterthought I think of those final moments, right?

Oddly enough this is a thought that's been niggling at me for a while. How does Keren's life and death play out in the grand scheme of things?

Clarification: I have no doubt that her existence was fully planned and intended by God. I also have no question that she was a gift to us, and not only us, but many around us. Her life shaped Kraig and me in ways we never expected, and God grew us in ways I would never exchange. I know, too, that her death was in God's hand, and it happened exactly when it was supposed to. I was reminded of this twice this past week with Jesus' words in Revelation 1:16, "'I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.'" Death has no power without Christ's permission. All these are truths I know, and I rejoice in them.

And yet, six-and-a-half years of life. What are those in the vast timeline of mankind? I've almost hit forty, my grandmother is 93 and I've got a great-aunt who's a cracking 97. And yet even our lives are so short on the line. So 6 1/2 years? What is that?

 I suppose if I sat down and started listing things out I would see how much her short life has changed mine and my family's. I would see the myriad ways God has taught me more about unconditional love, the value of all lives no matter how fragile, His sovereignty and centrality of every part of my life. I know these are effects of having known Keren. But on the other hand, nothing huge has shifted. While she lived, Kraig and my world included multiple doctors, therapists, special education teachers, fellow parents. In the three years since then our tie to this world has grown thin. We still know some and stay connected in a way, but that is no longer our world. I regret that at times, but at the same time, I don't feel that God is calling us to try to keep close to this world. We will never forget it, and we value it much more than we ever could have without Keren, but it is not our world now. I don't know exactly where and what He is taking us into, but at the moment, I know it's not back into that world. Does that lessen the significance of Keren's life? Obviously no, but I can't see the big picture and so I wonder.

I suppose that one thing I have realized through Keren's brief life is how important every life is, no matter how short. Every life impacts another...and another...and so on. The ripples continue. My grandmother, for instance, has six sons, fourteen grandchildren, and numerous great-grandchildren who have watched her for years and have been blessed by her humble, godly spirit. That doesn't even begin to touch the hundreds of other lives she has touched. On the other hand, a life snuffed out deliberately, even before birth, affects others by its very absence. I've read some interesting discussions recently as to how the world would be different if Steve Jobs' biological mother had aborted him. Makes one think! The two miscarriages Kraig and I had before Keren deeply affected us. For one, if either had continued full-term, Keren would not have been conceived. For another, the very loss of them vastly changed our perspective on Keren's life when we knew prenatally she might have Trisomy 18. We knew we wanted her, longed for her, no matter what. We wanted her to live! And she did, longer than we had dared to hope. And the lives she touched go on to touch other lives, and so on. The individual timeline might be brief, but each life impacts a life.

A butterfly flaps its wings, clouds collide, tempests rage, floods rise, rainbows of promise appear.

"How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures." ~Psalm 104:24

I just wish I could see it all from God's perspective. But as I am not able to, I will continue to live here through the storms and floods and wait in confidence for His rainbows.

Learning to Love Round Tables

I hate change.

I've said it before. I'll probably say it again.

I have always hated it, though now that I'm "grown up" I hate it differently than when I was, say, four and threw a temper tantrum when my parents exchanged our rectangular dinner table for a round one. I have matured greatly, and I know now that fits over table changes is pretty juvenile, particularly when the rectangular one was a cheap temporary table my parents got when they were married, while the round one was an heirloom that still graces my parents' dining room and will be passed through generations. How silly I was!

No, now I just hate change with bursts of internal self-pity and outbursts of woe directed toward patient ears of trusted family and friends. There are also extended railings that go on toward God. See how much more mature I am?

Okay, enough sarcasm. In reality, I know God has helped me grow a lot regarding change. I've gotten much better at accepting it, and even my railing and venting is part of my processing, the moving of my heart to the same place of acceptance that my head is. Because I do know that God is so much bigger, and has a much better grasp on all of my circumstances than I ever could. It is He who will make everything beautiful in its time, and when I willingly let Him do that work, my heart changes and I see that the round table is ten times better than the rectangular one.

Still, I try not to be a proponent of change. I will accept it passively, but I tend to avoid doing things that will change my routine or life. As Christmas approached this past year I contemplated Mary and her circumstances in those nine months before Jesus' birth. She was faced with change immeasurably more than any I could imagine, but it was all external. She didn't cause it to happen. And she accepted it with grace, faith, and obedience. I want to be like that. But I don't want to start the ball rolling. Of course, that's sort of silly to think, too, because it's always God who is going to roll the ball (that lovely antinomy of sovereignty vs. free will). I guess what I'm saying is I don't initiate risks to my routine...unless I know that God wants me to.

And there's the rub. About four months ago it became very clear that I had to give Kraig the freedom to start looking into something that could lead to a major change in our family. Hopefully brief overview: When Kraig and I got married, we fully intended to head into work overseas, whether missions or otherwise. Kraig wanted to teach, and with that in mind he pursued a PhD in Civil Engineering. I got a Masters in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. On September 27, 2002, our lives took a huge, amazing detour when Keren was born. Suddenly overseas work was put on the back burner, and we learned a whole new world of special needs. And our hearts grew in ways we could never have imagined. On January 28, 2009, Keren died, and in an instant we were left with a huge question: Are we back to where we were before our detour? Obviously life had changed for us, and at that point we weren't considering any drastic shifts other than adjusting to our new world without Keren. That was enough. And God used even that to show us grace and beauty. But over the past few years, God has been teaching me more and more about surrendering to Him, and letting Him work through me in whatever way. I want Him to shine, and the only way I can do that is to give up my little whims, because really, they don't make me happy anyway. I had to give Kraig the opportunity to look.

All that to say no change is occurring in our family at the moment. There is absolutely nothing definite except the fact that the possibility is there. That's the funny thing, too. What I'm dreading is the change that may come. I have no idea what form it will take, or even if it will occur, but I am dreading it. That in and of itself actually frustrates me because I know from experience that God can and will work out the details, including the state of my heart. I just don't want to let Him do it because it means change.

In the meantime, I'm watching as He's shifting some things around me that mean inevitable change in the lives of some close friends, and as a result in Kraig's and mine and our kids' lives. It makes me wonder if God is shifting those pieces first to get my heart in shape. On the one hand, it strikes me as perfect because it's not me triggering the change; I'm the passive recipient. Just what I prefer. However, once again I dread these changes. I want my rectangular table!

My fears make me want to scream sometimes. I hate being bound by them. I hate fearing change, because I know it's one more thing that separates me from the full joy and peace of a relationship with Christ. And yet there is something in this that is apparently a part of my make-up. God made me with this bent. It doesn't mean I should wallow in it and take it as it is, though. Rather, I need to seek Him, and continually give my fear and frustration to Him--over and over again. And perhaps when I am old and gray I will have grown to the point where I can immediately rejoice in the round table. And perhaps it will take till I get to heaven. In any case, it keeps me leaning on Him, and that, when it all boils down to it, is the best position to be in.

Understanding the Big Picture

I love stories. I love seeing my kids’ eyes light up when they listen to good stories. And the best stories, I think, are the ones that give a glimmer of something more than. It doesn’t have to be laid out like Aesop’s Fables, “And the moral of the story is...,” but the best stories are definitely the ones that have more to them than a plot-line.

And the greatest story of all is, no question, the story of God’s Big Rescue Plan. Most of us know something of this story, and we hear a good bit about it around Christmas. But usually we only hear one part: Jesus, God’s Son, is born on a starry night and laid in a feeding trough. If we’re more knowledgeable, we know that this baby grows up to do all kinds of wonderful miracles and tell marvelous stories himself, but in the end he’s horribly murdered—for us!—and then, beyond comprehension, rises again!

So if that’s the main story of God’s Big Rescue Plan, what does the rest of the Bible have to do with it? Are the other stories in the Bible just there to give us guidance in how to live our lives (or how not to, as the case often is)? Most children’s books and videos that portray these stories seem to imply this. Two newer contributions to the wealth of kids’ books and videos, though, go a major step beyond the norm and bring out the full beauty and wealth of the greatest story out there.

First off is The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name, by Sally Lloyd-Jones. We were introduced to this book in the fall of 2007, and I’ve lost count of how many times our family has read it through since. Colorful illustrations catch the eye of littlest ones, and the creative storytelling grasps the imaginations of kids as young as three or four…and as old as 90 or 100 J . Lloyd-Jones skillfully weaves the truth of Jesus and God’s Big Rescue Plan from Adam & Eve through Revelation. Not every part of the Bible is covered, of course, but each story included shows a connection to Christ. The way she puts things has grabbed my heart more times than I can say. It has deeply affected how my kids see Jesus and heaven, and their place in the big picture. You can find this book at Family Christian Stores, though I’ve found it’s cheaper through Amazon.

Secondly, a new video series, What’s In the Bible?, has been a huge hit at our house this year. The creator of this series is Phil Vischer, otherwise known as “Bob the Tomato” of VeggieTales fame. In these new videos, you don’t have talking vegetables, but rather an eclectic cast of puppets who dig into the Bible and pull out some fascinating stuff. It’s full of the type of humor you find in VeggieTales, along with fun, catchy songs and silly cartoons. At the same time, it lays the Bible out clearly without ignoring some of the tough questions like “What is salvation?” “What is the Trinity?” “Why does God tell the Israelites to kill people? Isn’t He the God of love?” And once again, woven through is God’s Big Rescue Plan. So far six videos have been put out in this series, and they’ve made it through 1 & 2 Chronicles in the Old Testament. It looks like there will be about thirteen videos in the end, and they’re coming out quickly. If you want to find out more about this series, or watch other videos with the characters, check out http://www.jellytelly.com/ and http://whatsinthebible.com/. I just discovered, too, that there’s a new stand-alone video called Buck Denver asks Why Do We Call It Christmas? I want to see it!!!

 

So there you have it! Quality stuff to check out for the Christmas season. Your kids will love it, and you’ll probably enjoy it as well!

It's Here! It's Here!

I'm a sucker for good kids' music, and when I say "good" I mean music that has great songs for the kids to enjoy, but also has things I enjoy. So yes, good is very subjective! ...But really, you can't go wrong with Slugs &Bugs, and I'm thrilled that the new album, Slugs & Bugs Under Where? is now out.

I've been trying to find the right word to sum up why I like the Slugs & Bugs music as much as I do...and there's no one word. The songs are whimsical, catchy, hilarious, lovely, thought-provoking, simple, deep--any of these words will describe one or more of the songs. There's a childlike innocence that permeates the songs, but there are truths that pop out and whop this "grown up" over the head. Random silliness is set beside moments of eye-opening truth, just like my everyday life with my kids. My kids love the tunes, and we all can sing them, elaborate on them, etc. In the past year since discovering Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies, I've happily spread it around to infect friends' and family's children. I apologize if you've been a recipient (well, actually, I don't!).

One of the things I've loved about both the first album, and even more the newest, is the broad spectrum of musical styles. I like variety, and appreciate it, though unfortunately I'm not educated enough to define all of it--I just know it's well done. In Slugs & Bugs Under Where? Randy Goodgame, along with a host of talented artists, incorporates (to name a few) New Orleans street jazz, Asian themes, African themes, classical, klezmer, Beach Boys, arena rock and Queen. And some of those are all in one song, "Mexican Rhapsody," that you can listen to here.

The touch is light. Don't expect the glitz and rock of Go Fish, which, speaking of, my kids and I like. Their lyrics are great, and we love to bop around to it now and then. But their tag line, "Great music for kids that won't drive parents bonkers," just doesn't apply to me. After one listen-through of an album, I'm done or I will go bonkers. It's just not my style. On the other hand, the deceptive simplicity of Slugs & Bugs keeps me, my husband, and my kids coming back for more. The other day my four-year-old wanted to hear Go Fish, so we had an album on for a run-through. I couldn't help but smile later, though, when she trotted around repeatedly singing, not a Go Fish lyric, but "Rooster, rooster, rooster, you're a cockadoodle-dooster," from Slugs & Bugs "Mexican Rhapsody." Tonight it was "I am very, very capable of anger.... Tell it to Jesus, he already knows. Tell it to Jesus, before it grows." ...I think I've mentioned in a previous post that I'm fully in favor of brainwashing my children....

So if you're looking for a treat for your kids (and whole family) for Christmas, these are some albums worth getting.