From the Workshop

Authors Bill and Kathy Peel were guest orators at a workshop at our church last night. Sponsored by The Vow, Vanguard's Couples Ministry, the event focused on the plight of busy couples - an American hallmark if ever I've seen one - and, as senior directors of said ministry, we had the pleasure of dual-serving as co-collaborators and attendees.

For a quick overview, you can check out a review at Pikes Peak Parent.com.

A few points struck me as key for my life, and I'll certainly be passing those along in future posts. But, for now, let me just share this quote Bill offered as one he first received from a mentor long ago:

"If your output exceeds your input, the upkeep will be your downfall."

Don't know who said it, but BOY...ain't that the truth.

The Grass Really Is Greener

I despise lawn in Colorado. But, then, I despise total xeriscaping even more - something about rocks and cacti seem to make the abode shout, "I'm sterile!" Lawns, however, pose a whole other set of problems; in fact, these very worriments inspire us to fuel a 40 billion (can you BELIEVE it???) dollar industry with its tantalizing promise of sod Nirvana. In American Green: The Obsessive Quest for the Perfect Lawn (2006), author and historian Ted Steinberg notes that's approximately equivalent to "the gross domestic product of the entire nation of Vietnam." Say WHAT???!!!

Of course, this should be less of an "Eeek!" moment and more of a "Figures" one since Americans stand outside at least three months of the year with hose and fertilizer cart in hand poking in dismay at the barren tundra we wish was plush canopy.

What's that you say? YOU'RE one of those dismayed pokers? Well, don't be too dismal: I am, too. Or, rather, my husband is. Was. Probably will always be. But this year was different, see, because Craig is a "putt-putter" (a term of endearment generally referring to the guy who picks a bit at most everything as a form of stress-release) whose annual battle with the lawn reached epic proportions this year. Come about May, he was stalking inside more and more mumbling something about feed, seed, water..."third dimension of hell" might have been in there somewhere...and I decided this was a no-go. No more grass stress for my plot tender!

So, off to the research banks I go...and what do I find? An array of web chronicles so diverse as to be heir-apparent to the literary Canon: I mean, are you kidding me?? But I was not to be deterred and, days and many coffee cups later, I'd decided on the crown gem of products: pre-milled corn gluten. Yep, for just $27 for a 40 pound bag (pricey, yes, but WAY cheaper than a corporate buyout of Scotts and Ortho) and a few easy applications, we were fast on our way. Now, I also patched some spots with Easy Seed - yes, it really does work - and re-orchestrated watering times (thanks, Jason Bowles) but, all in all, the corn gluten was magic fairy lawn dust.

And Craig (yes, Craig) took pictures of the final product one summer evening.

Okay, so it's grass...big deal, right? Even if you factor in the joint effort it took to make it so lush and...well....green, it's still just a photosynthetic product of dirt, seed, and science, huh? Well, like most mind-bending encounters, grass may seem pedestrian at first glance. But then I got to thinking: blade for blade, that's a lot of photosynthetic product of dirt, seed, and science coming together to create a blanket as soft to the soles as it is pleasing to the eye. And it smells good. Looks good. And if, as Steinberg suggests, our lawns are extensions of our living rooms, then I want ours to stand up and shout, "Hello, gorgeous! This land is fertile and vital and all-around welcoming - come on in and sit for a spell!" Or, put another way, thanks to the co-labor of marriage and a fairy dust gluten, the grass really is greener on our side of the fence.

And we didn't even have to purchase Vietnam.

En arche en ho logos...

...is the last line of the poem "LOVE" written by Franz Wright, a Pulitzer-Prize winning American poet and son of James Arlington Wright - also a Pulitzer-Prize winning poet. (By the way, they're the only father and son to hold that honor in the same category).

Franz Wright is also the author of a poetry collection I'm currently reading entitled
God's Silence.

"LOVE" is tapered. Clean. Has good bones.
And hit me strongly.

Here's the poem, in its entirety, for your perusal...

"While they were considering whether to stone her -
and why not? - he knelt
and with his finger wrote
something in the dust. We are
as you know made from
dust, and the unknown
word
was, therefore, and is
and forever will be
written in our flesh
in gray folds of
memory's
flesh. En
arche en ho logos.

Go ahead and read it again.
I'll wait.

Now would it interest you to know that "en arche en ho logos" is Greek for "In the beginning was the Word?"

His Turn

I'm living in a new land of nice called "Just One Child at Home." Each of my children prior took a turn living in this land with me. Because our children are spaced farther apart, I've been afforded the luxury to indulge in one-on-one time with them - which bears the invaluable fruit of observation, understanding, and appreciation of the finer things in life...while they're still a mere two feet tall.

One of my favorite daily times with them have been walks to school. First, it was just Grace. Then came Elijah's turn last year when, thanks to the many advantages of half-day kindergarten, I got to stroll with just him every mid-day. Now, I walk them both every morning with our last little duck straggling behind or clutching my forefinger, slapping through puddles and pointing out every bird with his customary "Tweet tweet" proclamation. Sometimes, we walk backwards. Others, on piggyback. He cries, "Ush! Ush!" when it's time to open the garage door remote and takes great joy in collecting "jetters": those "treasures" he finds streetside along the way. On this day, it was a fallen leaf and a dropped quarter discovered at the base of his favorite slide.

Yes, on the way, there are three.
But, on the way back, it's him and me.
Hand in hand.
His turn.

That's Just Who He Is

Judsen is a charming little boy: he'll woo you by
shyly flirting then reward your pursuit with fist bumps, high faves, and
(if you're really tenacious) a hug and sloppy kiss. He could
play all day (and has, now that I mention it) with his buddy, Ben, and
is grouchy as all get-out if you wake him from a deep sleep. His
favorite exclamation appears to be - currently, anyway - "Idoit!" Don't
let the spelling trick you: that's toddler squish-it-together for "I do
it"...as opposed to the mind's fix of "idiot." Still, it says the first
like he means the second, so...

And these are his favorite shoes:

Now, you may call these "flip flops" but, at our
address, that's blasphemy. For, if you've ever encountered Judd in these
shoes, you know he quickly corrects you by thrusting a forefinger
downward giggling, "Blip blops!" Yeessss, blip blops are the foot fare
of order these days. Well, all summer actually. Elijah refused to even
slip his foot into such folly, but Judsen...he's the rebel, after all.
They once had a strap attached to the back but, when one got loose and
began irritating him, he carried it to Daddy who, seeing a kindred
spirit in eradicating all the textures and teases that annoy you,
promptly cut the back ties.

And a podiatric love affair began.

Now, sandals are a "maybe" and only on Sundays while socks quickly give
rise to wailing and gnashing of teeth. After some talking, explaining,
and asserting of overall power in the house (mine, mind you, not his) we
now have an understanding: its blip blops until the weather changes
summer waves us goodbye. Then its socks as Old Man Winter moves in.

No doubt, he'll stage a coup when this time arrives. But I'll bet he's laughing while he does it.

That's just the way he is.

It's Never How You Imagined It In Your Head

I like Kevin Costner. Yes, yes - he's made some stinkers that were pretty bizarre besides (think The Postman). Yet, there are whole movies from his repertoire high on my playlist (Field of Dreams, for one -cuz I'm from Iowa and, of course, as the line goes, you can confuse us with heaven...but only when trippin', I'd add), and others which have scenes atop my charts...like one in For Love of the Game (1999).

Costner plays Billy Campbell, pro baseball player who rescues damsel in distress Jane Aubrey (Kelly Preston), an everyday, run-of-the-mill pedestrian who's romantically challenged with a big heart. To say the least, their affair is complicated, but it takes a turn toward raw honesty when Billy calls from Florida to ask New Yorker Jane to come visit him at training camp. In the interest of self-preservation, she's hesitant to commit, rendering the conversation open-ended and a bit unresolved. Still, Jane musters her courage and takes a risk by boarding a plane and arriving at his door carrying nothing but "my toothbrush and a bathing suit I bought at the airport." Billy doesn't look pleased, though; this prompts Jane to doubt herself, confessing "I'm an idiot."

Then it gets really interesting.

Billy: No, I'm an idiot. Jane, listen to me. No matter what happens in the next five minutes, I want you to know that when I opened this door I was so happy to see you that my heart leapt. It leapt in my chest.

Then the gal in her underwear (saw her coming from a mile away, right?) comes skipping down the stairs and, of course, Jane makes a speedy exit. When Billy chases her down, they have a heated exchange that ends with him telling Jane he "doesn't even want that girl."

Jane: Then why is she here?
Billy: Well. I like her. She's my massage therapist.
Jane: It's never how you imagined it in your head.

And that's what strikes me.

It never is how you play it out: not the proposal or the breakup, or the birth or the death, or the good or the bad, or any of the in-between. Life still leaves me baffled, standing on the street after witnessing what I didn't see coming noting, "It's never how you imagined it in your head."

Since you clearly can't predict nearly any of it, seems to me it's the coping that counts - the standing in delivery or hanging the hat in defeat; the riding high in bliss or bending low in grief. It's the knowing what's good for you and grabbing hold or, like Jane does, getting in the car and driving off.

But no matter how you look at it, any way you cope with it...well, it never really is how you imagined it in your head.

I Only Had a Day...

...to find childcare for three small children.

Two were only one day into the start of a new school year. One needed care requiring meals, snacks, a nap, and the ability to forebear a toddler. Ideally, we wanted to keep them in their environments since school's a block away, and Judsen does better sleeping in his own room.

Yep.

Peace talks might require less organization than that. And I had a mere day to do it.

The resulting "plan" brings this Scripture to mind:

"A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." Proverbs 17:17

And this sentiment, too:

"My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don't know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him."
- Emily Dickinson

So I placed four calls.

Then I was done.

In a detailed but expertly-greased hub of cogs and levers, all three children were balanced, loved, distracted, and tended. A friend, neighbor, and fellow mom from school took Grace and Elijah home from school on Friday and Monday until Craig's mom got off from work. Mom then took over for the weekend until Bee stepped in. Now she had a tough job: she spent Sunday and Monday night, feeding them, tucking them in, waking them, and shuttling them to school and Zee's house - who added Judsen to her flock of five...yes, 5!...for 2 days whole.

Upon our arrival in Iowa, my stepdad asked, "Who's taking care of the kids?" After giving him the skinny, he replied, "Wow. Now that's some kind of friends, isn't it?"

Indeed.

Thank you, Ashley, Mom, Zee, Bee, and all your families who went into the deep end to help keep our family afloat: you demonstrated true friendship, and I am full of thanks.

I can count on you and know you are more than empty words.
You came to the rescue

...when I only had a day.