Why I Don't Get Tired of Christmas Music

I love Christmastime, and I'm thankful for it. Not because I like shopping (I hate it) or coming up with gifts (I've never been very good at it and the selection process makes me terribly insecure). I like decorating for Christmas, but that's just because the colors and sparkles are beautiful and it's hard to mess it up. Christmas treats are a short-lived joy, because they are amazing but always end with a sugar crash.

No, my favorite thing about Christmas is the Christmas music. I like many of the sentimental, ambience- and tradition-minded songs, including "White Christmas" and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." But the songs that I love most are the old Christmas hymns that are full of Gospel truths and constantly being re-interpreted by various artists and played everywhere at Christmastime.

Even though my secular, consumption-minded culture has usurped much of the holiday, you can catch glimmers of its original meaning in those Christmas songs played on the radio. They may just be a holiday tradition for some people, but if you pay attention, really pay attention, to the lyrics, it's like you're hearing the best, most poetic sermons set to music, played everywhere. You can be driving in your car or walking around the store, getting groceries or toilet paper or gifts, and in the background your hear Biblical truths about Jesus and His Kingdom:

• The miracle of the Incarnation ("Veiled in flesh the Godhead see" "See within a manger laid Jesus, Lord of heaven and earth!" )
• The identity of Jesus (King and God and Sacrifice, symbolized in the Wise Men's three gifts) ("Born a King on Bethlehem's plain; gold I bring to crown Him again" "Frankincense to offer have I; incense owns a Deity nigh" "Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom. / Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.")
• Jesus took the punishment our sins earn us ("with His blood mankind hath bought.")
• Jesus gives us a relationship with God ("God and sinners reconciled!")
• Jesus restores us back to God's original design ("No more let sin and sorrow grow, nor thorns infest the ground. / He comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found...")
• Jesus frees us from the sin and struggles within us ("Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day / To save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray.")
• Jesus teaches us how we are to love others ("His gospel is peace. / Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother / and in His name, all oppression shall cease.")
• Jesus prays for us ("...for sinners here the Silent Word is pleading.")
• Jesus is the Way to the Kingdom of God, both now and in the future ("He has opened heaven's door and man is blessed forevermore")

These songs are replete with truth and hope, which is something I always need; even when I don't realize that I am drained, hearing the Good News is the best refreshment for a weary soul and the best reminder of what's really important in life. And if you get tired of a particular musical interpretation, there are always new versions coming out, once again making these truths sound as enjoyable and remarkable as they actually are.

And it's everywhere at Christmastime. Listen for it.

Pumpkin Walnut Scones Recipe

I love the pumpkin scones from Starbucks. Love, love, love them. And this fall, it seems like I cannot get enough pumpkin.

However, I can't afford to go to Starbucks that often, and I'm trying to eliminate most sugar from my diet. I had made some whole-wheat vegan scones before, but they were always a little dry, even if I substituted butter for the applesauce or whole milk for the almond milk. They never satisfied my craving for a sweet, Starbucks-like pumpkin scone. So I decided to play around with recipes I had and see if I could achieve something that would be pumpkin-y and sweet without actually having a lot of sugar.

Voilà! Success! I've made these scones twice now and they came out amazing both times. They are soft and delicious and moist (as much as I hate that word, it's accurate here, in the good way). They are also pretty healthy, considering they're scones. I think the difference was made by using spelt flour instead of regular whole-wheat flour, and also having the walnuts ground into the flour.

Also, they are quickly-made, especially if you have a food processor. I supposed it would be possible to make them if you had a pastry cutter and some kind of spice grinder for the walnuts, but the food processor makes it quick and easy.

So, without further ado, here's the recipe:

1) Into your food processor, dump the following dry, spice, and fat ingredients:

• 1 cup whole-wheat spelt flour
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 2-3 tablespoons brown sugar (they are good both ways, just a touch sweeter with 3 tablespoons)
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• A sprinkle of ginger and nutmeg each
• A tiny pinch of cloves 

• 4 tablespoons butter, cold and cut into small cubes
• 1/2 cup walnuts (I've been cooking with raw sprouted walnuts; they may not have to be sprouted, but I would definitely use raw walnuts)

2) Run the food processor for about twenty seconds, or until the walnuts and butter have been well-ground into the dry ingredients and the whole mixture looks a little like wet sand.

3) Dump the flour mixture into a bowl and add the following:

• 1/4 cup almond milk
• 3/4 cup pumpkin

4) Mix wet ingredients into dry ones. (I've found a couple stirs with a spoon help get things started, and then I use my hands to really get the pumpkin to absorb.)

5) Shape the dough into a circle about a half-inch thick, then place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Cut the circle into eight triangles. Your uncooked scones should look like this, except a little darker because this was an attempt where I forgot the spices and had to sprinkle cinnamon over the top later:

6) Bake for 10-12 minutes at 450 degrees (I set my oven to 440, because it always runs a bit hot).

7) Let rest on the cookie sheet for five to ten minutes before serving.

Unfortunately, I do not have food styling skills, so the pictures I tried to take of the finished product didn't look that good. The scones did, however, taste VERY good, so if you're craving pumpkin, try the recipe... Let me know what you think and whether you make any adjustments of your own to increase the tastiness!

Thankful for Thankfulness

This will be my first year participating in the "30 Days of Thankfulness" tradition on Facebook. I am starting a day late, having spent yesterday debating whether or not I would participate. This is no surprise to those of you who know how indecisive I am and how much I hate commitment.

But I decided to participate after all, for two reasons: first, I am going to try to use a lot of pictures instead of descriptions. I tend to get wordy with descriptions, and when I get wordy then I always self-edit, and when I know there will be editing involved I procrastinate, because I am a perfectionist.

Second, there are simply a lot of things for which I am truly thankful these days.

Gratefulness is not my heart's state as often as I would like. Too many times busy-ness makes me forget to feel grateful, or the routine of life makes me take good things for granted, or my inner, entitled ideal of what my life should be likes makes me focus on what I don't have and the little things going wrong, rather than the many things that are going well.

But over the last month, God has been working on my heart. I have been studying grace and growing in my appreciation for it, and I have been studying Jesus and growing in my love for Him. These are things I am grateful for, and somehow in the midst of them, God has been helping me to feel more thankful for a variety of things.

I have been feeling that inner peace and thankfulness that you can't fake or drum up. Prayer and reflection can lead to gratefulness, but with the two baby girls, I don't have as much time as I would like for those disciplines. I can't sit and read my Bible for an hour, and journal my way to gratefulness; many times, all I have is a few minutes to pray for my family and ask God both for gratefulness and to be reminded to pray throughout the day. Over the last month, God has been faithful to answer my prayers for a thankful heart. It's not natural to me, and it's not something I can earn. I still have many stressed, angry, irritable, ungrateful, entitled, selfish moments throughout the day, but the Holy Spirit keeps speaking truth to me, which gives me perspective and reminds me of God's goodness to me.

This grateful feeling is a gift from Him, and I am truly joyful that He is helping me see how much of a gift it is. So, for day one, I am thankful that God is making me thankful.

The Golden Age of Babyhood

Kaitlyn is now seven months old, a month into what I've thought of as "the golden age of babyhood" since Alexandra went through it.

I love my babies at this age; they are so fascinating and just... enjoyable between six and twelve months. (In case there's any doubt, I love my babies all the time. But some ages are more fun than others.)

She's becoming much more independent than she was; her attention lasts longer, and she will spend several minutes playing with toys. She loves reading and has favorite books.

She's curious about everything and wants to grab anything in sight, from toys that she can manipulate to large objects that she scratches at to her sister's hair. When she finally grasps the objects she's reaching for, she loves turning them over in her chubby little hands to examine them, taste them, give them a good shake, and whack them against things to see what happens.

She experiments to figure things out; when she sits on the table in her Bumbo while I prepare lunch, she smacks the soles of her feet against the wood, enjoying the sounds. She'll grip a toy with both hands, raise it above her head, and try with all her might to pull it apart. When she discovers that she can get a new view of something by rolling from her back to her side, she rolls back and forth several times just to practice.

She's on the verge of exciting physical accomplishments. In two weeks, she went from not being able to sit up at all to sitting up by herself for several minutes while playing. She loves to grasp my fingers and pull herself up to standing, especially if her big sister is standing right next to her. She gets up on her hands and knees and rocks back and forth, eventually stretching out on her tummy to reach whatever it is that she wants. And she has three teeth coming in, all at once!

Also at this age, she's at her most social. She can distinguish between her family and friends and strangers. Mommy is still her favorite, but she adores her big sister and has a special smile just for Daddy. She's always been a pretty cheerful baby and likes to smile at almost anyone who smiles at her. Just don't make her mad, because there are certain triggers (such as not feeding her RIGHT NOW when she's hungry after a long nap) that turn her from easygoing to enraged, from smiling to tearful and red-faced.

It was surprising to me how many differences I could see between my girls' personalities, right from the first weeks of their lives. Now those personality differences are more obvious. Kaitlyn has always been my cuddle-bug, my little Mommy's girl, the one who likes silence like me, whereas Alexandra was fairly independent right away and likes background noise like her daddy. Kaitlyn loves interesting textures and would rather be constantly on the move, touching and tasting things, while Alexandra always wanted to sit back and observe.

It is so exciting to watch babies gain new skills and abilities, and it astounds me how much you can know about these little beings who can't talk, just by observing them and interacting with them. I'm so looking forward to the next few months of the Golden Age.

What Is This Freedom, and Where Do I Get It, and Who Gets the Glory? How Galatians Is Transforming My Idea of "God's Way"

My friend recently wrote a blog post entitled, "Why I Won't Be 'Growing My Kids God's Way.'" I agreed with her post, as I'm not a fan of what I know about the program. What really hit home for me, though, was her follow-up post, written because some readers were wondering why she was so opposed to that particular program. After all, most parently ideologies and programs have strengths and weaknesses; why not take in the good and leave out of the bad? For her, it all came down to the idea of God's grace: the Growing Kids God's Way program has a very strong emphasis on external behavior.

Katie wrote, "It is because I come out of a works-based, earning, “getting it right” culture of Christianity…but am conversely learning the everyday reality and expression of grace…that I am so passionate about exposing programs, habits, and expressions of any works-based version of Christianity." This statement resonated strongly with me, as I only realized relatively recently how ingrained a works-based Christianity was in my soul, and I find myself more and more aware of all the subtleties of works-based "Christianity" that are present in the American church (not to pick on Americans only, but I am not very familiar with other countries' church cultures).

A culture of works-based Christianity is a lot like slavery. You can't imagine the pride and arrogance that fill your heart (which you try not to express, because that would expose you) when you are keeping the rules. You can't imagine the devastation and alienation from God you feel when you mess up. You can't imagine the incongruity between an outer world where people talk about how good you are, a shining light and example, and your inner world full of doubts, struggles, bitterness, anger, and pride (that you can't ever get help with, because then everyone would know you weren't as good as you seemed).

Growing up in the church, I was very much aware of the enslavements of sin. I wasn't aware of the enslavement of religion. I knew what things I should and shouldn't do. My personality naturally wants to please people, and the esteem of authority figures feeds my pride, so being good was easy for me. I LIKED following rules, because following rules was a sure way to earn the approval of parents, teachers, and other adults in my life. I was able to figure out the "rules" of getting along in the kid world and obtain the approval of kids around me.

I didn't realize until I was older that I applied the same logic to my relationship with God. It was easy: I would and wouldn't do certain things to keep God happy. Principles about loving God and people were difficult to manage, because they were not measurable; rules and measureables I liked, because I could check them off my list.

But things started to change as I got older. I doubted my salvation, because I kept finding sin in myself. I knew that God loved me because He loves everybody - that's just what He does - but I had trouble believing He loved me individually. I kept hearing people talk about grace and Jesus's love and freedom, and I became more and more frustrated because I didn't know what those things felt like. I knew what I should believe and what I should do, but I wasn't sure I had this relationship that everyone kept talking about. I would read books about grace and passages throughout the New Testament, but I could never really believe that grace was for me.

Deep down inside, I truly believed what an LDS friend of mine once expressed: you have to work hard and earn God's love and approval, and Jesus takes care of the rest. That is, it's mostly up to you to try to be good, and the Cross is for the leftovers. I would never say it when talking about my beliefs or theology, but my heart and behavior revealed my true belief: Jesus would only do His part if I was working hard to do mine. And I was afraid of Him, because I knew that I was not working as hard as I could. And if I were to work as hard as I could... I would probably die, or at the very least, hate God.

I knew this was wrong, but couldn't get it into my heart. Speaking to others about this, I even felt a little mystified by my mom's definition: "Here's how I feel His grace: Imagine lying on your back, floating in a pool. Every part of your body is relaxed, the water holds you up, the sun is warm on your face.... Ah, ...grace. God does all the work." It was a foreign concept.

Since I knew that Galatians talked a lot about grace, I decided to read Galatians. Over and over. Until what Paul said about Jesus and grace became second nature to me, rather than glimpses of hope in my rule-bound world.

That was when I learned something interesting about my rule-keeping.

Even though I knew I was in a spiritual prison of sorts, I had never realized that my rule-keeping was evil. I always assumed there were a few levels of evil, of worldliness. The lowest, of course, was enslavement to worldliness, to obvious sins like adultery, murder, greed, etc. Wanting to follow rules and earn salvation, though not the way to salvation, of course, was at least better, because you were wanting to please God. Surely that desire counted for something. I did not see a difference between obeying God so that He would love me and obeying God because He loved me.

And then, as I was reading through Galatians the second or third or fourth time, I'm not sure when, I was hit by something as a lightening bolt. Galatians 2:20 said, "I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose."

Hmmm. I think that's when it began to sink in.

I would never, ever say to Jesus, "Sorry, Your grace means nothing." Nor would I say, "Your death on the cross was pretty much insufficient. You can't save me. Only I can save me." Yet that was what I was doing every time I felt like my good deeds were giving God a helping hand. Trying to be good to earn my salvation wasn't okay because "at least I was trying." I was convicted of my own arrogance. As Martin Luther said in his commentary on Galatians, "What awful presumption to imagine that there is any work good enough to pacify God, when to pacify God required the invaluable price of the death and blood of His own and only Son?... To keep the Law in order to be justified means to reject grace, to deny Christ, to despise His sacrifice, and to be lost."

Then, I read another verse. Galatians 4:3 said, "So also we, while we were children, were held in bondage under the elemental things of the world." Growing up in a particular denomination of the church, I had always read this verse as being about bondage to the sins that related to "being bad," not "being good." Drinking, premarital sex, murder, hatred... those were the worldly things that enslaved people. But as I studied Galatians, I realized that the "elemental things of the world" were actually the religious systems apart from Christ's death and resurrection. Trying to earn heaven by following rules, as good as I had thought it, was actually a form of worldliness, an effort that Paul described as "weak and worthless elemental things." (Gal. 4:9) In thinking that I would earn God's love by avoiding worldliness and darkness, I was living under a different kind of worldliness and darkness.

As Martin Luther expressed it, "[The Law] may restrain evil, but it does not deliver from sin." I had assumed that restraining my sin would deliver me from evil. Yet my inner life proved otherwise, and my awareness of the inner life (and its overflow into my outer life) led me to despair and be angry with God. Why would He ask me to be good and make it so hard? Why would He give me a desire to please Him along with an inability to do so? And as it began to really sink in that I could not save myself, that the attempt to do so would just add to my pride and list of sins, it was then that I began to trust in Christ's effort alone to save me. In all my straining to obey the American Church version of the Law and my studying of the Gospel over and over, they worked together as God intended. When I finally reached the hopelessness that anyone who pursues the Law eventually finds, I arrived at the hope revealed in the Gospel. Once again, Luther expressed perfectly what was in my heart:

    "Men fast, pray, watch, suffer. They intend to appease the wrath of God and to deserve     God's grace by their exertions. But there is no glory in it for God, because by their exertions these workers pronounce God an unmerciful slave driver, an unfaithful and angry Judge. They despise God, make a liar out of Him, snub Christ and all His benefits; in short they pull God from His throne and perch themselves on it. 

    "Faith truly honors God. And because faith honors God, God counts faith for righteousness.

    "Christian righteousness is the confidence of the heart in God through Christ Jesus."

My attempts at self-salvation are worthless and worldly. So what do I do? How do I respond? I am learning to be wary of any response that involves ME trying or my effort. All I can do is ask Jesus to change me from the inside out, to give me faith because I can't muster it up or fake it, and choose to believe that He will deliver me. And here, in this spot, I am finally loving God not only because I know He is just and powerful and terrifyingly worthy of awe, but also because He is showing me how loving and gracious He is. "Do not fear, do not worry about your salvation," He says, "because I was willing to give up My own Son for your righteousness, and I am saving you."

Anyway... that's the long version. All this to say, I know where my friend is coming from in her visceral reactions against any parenting program that encourages our human tendency to rely on behavior as a measure of righteousness while downplaying the heart. Once you are rescued from that place, you never want to go back, and you certainly don't want people you love to end up there. 

"If you have died with Christ to the elementary principles of the world, why, as if you were living in the world, do you submit to [external] decrees.... These matters which have, to be sure, the appearance of wisdom in self-made religion and self-abasement and severe treatment of the body, but are of no value against fleshly indulgence." -Colossians 2:20, 23

You cannot promote man's efforts to be good as "God's way."

Why I Write, Part 2: Fiction

I've always loved stories. I loved reading as soon as I learned how; I wrote my first stories when I was five or six years old. I would write and illustrate my own books, populating them with numerous characters and drawing the illustrations and completing them by stapling all the papers together. As I grew older, both the stories I read and the ones I wrote grew longer. Some of my best childhood memories are of moving around the country with Laura Ingalls Wilder, exploring the Mississippi (and avoiding getting caught) with Huck Finn, and enjoying all the quirks and oddities of humanity with Anne of Green Gables and Emily of New Moon. I remember reflecting on Laura's way of dealing with mean girls, Emily's struggles to please her family, and Huck's wrestling with his own conceptions of race and those that his authorities were proclaiming as truth.

These memories reflect why I like to write fiction: 1) I am greedy for new experiences and 2) For me and many people, fiction is a powerful way to learn about the world and work out problems.

I honestly get bored with the sameness of me, the sameness of my life. I love to meet different people, travel to new places, and learn about things I've never experienced. I never had a sister, so I am curious to know what that would be like. I came from a happy, stable family, so I wonder how my life would be different if I had come from an unhappy family. I grew up in the West; I have no idea what it's like to live on the East Coast. Whenever I hear about anyone's problems, I always wonder, "How would I react? What would I do?" Sometimes I get frustrated with my own personality. I have weaknesses and shortcomings, and it's fun to imagine that I am someone different. Sure, if I had a different personality I would have other weaknesses. But at least when I invent a whole new personality, I can take a break from mine for a while.

And humans! Human beings are endlessly fascinating to me. Every single person ever born has been unique, yet we share so many similar traits. Myers-Briggs can break most people down into sixteen basic personality types, yet no two people are exactly the same. Humans have weaknesses that turn out to be strengths, a tendency to self-destruct, and blindnesses about themselves that are somehow obvious to everyone else.

It's this endless curiosity that leads me to read and eventually, to write. When I want new experiences, I can read, but sometimes my mind begins exploring questions about people and experiences before I think to look for a particular book. That's where stories come from, and once they're inside, I have to write them out.

Also, writing stories enables me to work out problems, both ones feared or imagined and ones experienced, in a meaningful way. I have a hard time talking about my feelings, and the straightforward answer to an issue, conflict, or difficult experience can often satisfy my mind, but not always my heart. And when I work out something intellectually without really working it out in my heart, eventually I will once again struggle with the problem.

The most clarity comes when I explore problems or conflicts through fiction. Approaching a problem through a fictional world gives me enough distance to be a little more objective, yet living through the characters keeps it close enough to my heart that when I have finished writing, I feel a peace and understanding that won't come simply through a rational process.

These new experiences and methods of problem-solving make writing fiction a joy for me. It's a difficult joy, one that only come after a lot of staring at a blank page and what seems to be wasted time imagining paths that never work out in the story. But I think that the most lasting and deep joys only come through difficulties, so it's worth the time and energy.

That's why I write fiction.

Why I Write: Part 1

I'm not really sure how many installments it's going to take to explain why I like to write so much. I know there will be at least one more post about why I write fiction, and another one about writing nonfiction. Clearly planning is not my forte as a blogger. But after you read today's post, I hope you will understand why I'm not sure how long it will take to explain why I like to write.

Here's why I write. 

My brain feels scattered, and writing is my way of organizing all my mental objects. Thoughts that that are crowding around in my mind move too fast and are too tangled and interconnected for me to ever make sense of them; they exist as a collection of images, feelings, words, memories, and information. They are not arranged linearly or pictorially or in categories. As far as I can tell, they are not arranged at all, and try as I might, I cannot organize them by just sitting around and thinking. 

This means that processing information, or processing my thoughts and feelings, is difficult for me. So, I write to process. Otherwise, all those thoughts are lying around in pieces, never quite connecting and forming a unified whole. Unlike linear and logical people, I have no innate mental schema for organizing thoughts. I have one friend who only wrote one draft of every paper she wrote in college (and she got good grades). That’s right: she could formulate an argument and come to a conclusion all in one draft, writing her paper from start to finish, from introduction to logical conclusion. I, however, cannot tell a story from beginning to end. My brain doesn’t work that way. When I start writing, I have some idea of what I'll include and where I'm going, but it's never complete. I have to edit and reorganize as I go.

Here’s how I picture it: Some people's brains are like a new 64-pack of crayons, with each crayon of a particular color representing a complete idea and its sub-ideas. These people's thoughts are neatly separated, whole entities, still in their fresh wrappers, and sorted by color from lightest to darkest. These are the people who are logical and linear; they have administrative and organizational gifts. When they encounter new information, it's often easy for them to know where that new information fits in. Simple! Just find the crayons of most similar color and make a space for the new crayon in between.

On the other hand, my mind is like a 64-pack where all of the crayons have been broken into multiple pieces. In fact, the pack itself was destroyed and thrown away long ago, so now all the crayons are kept in a big jumble in a plastic bowl, and there are no wrappers to speak of. If two pieces of the same color happen to be touching, it’s only by coincidence. When thoughts get long and complicated, there's no way I can find any kind of conclusion, because I don't know where all the pieces of that crayon are. Throw in new information, and it just sits in the bowl on top of the pile.

Writing for me is like sorting the big bowl of crayons according to color. I don’t pick through the crayons and try to find every single piece of red all at once, moving on to every single piece of blue, pink, etc. Writing is the process of getting all the crayons out of the bowl and sorting through them so I can put like colors together. It allows me to lay everything out at once that seems to be even remotely related, then select the truly relevant details and thoughts. I can piece them together and see what kind of whole they form (putting the same color pieces together to make a crayon), and I can throw the irrelevant pieces (the other colors) back in the bowl. When I write, it puts the words, images, feelings, memories outside of me and allows me to organize them.

This is my brain. This is why I need to write. 

Someone Prayed for Me

Monday morning when I woke up, I turned off the alarm on my phone and instantly went to Facebook, something that I've found helps me wake up mentally and actually get out of bed, instead of just going back to sleep. And I found out that someone was praying for me.

I don't know this woman very well. I know her through Facebook updates; she goes to our church; I had taught her daughter in a small Spanish class I did for a homeschool co-op a couple years ago. But she had tagged me in her status update, saying that she had woken up early and was praying for me and a few other people who have been hurt by some recent events.

It was humbling and, of course, encouraging. I felt so grateful that while I've been feeling very alone in my struggles, someone was praying for me. This made me stop and pray for her family as well.

Then I started thinking about the other people for whom she was praying, and I prayed for them too. Then, I remembered some other friends who were going through difficult times or who were about to do something out of the ordinary, so I prayed for them too. A few other people came into my mind, so I prayed for them too.

Then I started thinking about the nature of prayer, and how much we need it, and how little I do it. I thought about how merciful God is to me, and how He saved me, and how much He and His Son sacrificed to save me. I thought about the nature of God.

And all this before breakfast!

I cannot pray and contemplate God for long without feeling peace come over me. It makes me forget the little troubles and feel grateful for what I have. It reminds me that I don't have to be stressed about controlling all the little details in my life, because Someone who loves me with perfect wisdom is controlling them for me. I start thinking about how I can love others, instead of how I can get them to love me.

God worked through her prayers. The morning was wonderful because a woman stopped and prayed for me, and let me know she was praying for me. This made me more determined to stop and pray for others, and let them know about it as well. I truly thank Him for her.

Having a Baby (the Second Time Around)

A little over two months ago, little baby Kaitlyn was born. Having our second daughter was very different for me from when the first was born (in a good way), and I wanted to share my experience....

The second time around, the wonder of holding your baby for the first time is greater, because not only are you thrilled by the present, but you also have tasted the joy of some of the wonderful moments to come. You know that even in difficult or painful moments, it will be worth it for this little human.

The second time around, you know that you CAN get your baby dressed without breaking her, even with that wobbly little head and the iron grip needed to stretch out her arms and legs.

The second time around, instead of staying awake the entire first night because you are convinced your baby will stop breathing if you dare to not be conscious of her for even a second, you remember that her next breath comes from God, not from your willpower and attention. You even take baby into your hospital bed with you and let her sleep in the crook of your arm (in spite of all the warnings you've heard against the hazards of co-sleeping), because you know that both of you will sleep better together.

The second time around, when you get home from the hospital and break down in a tearful panic, thinking to yourself, "Who keeps letting me come home with tiny helpless people?" you don't succumb fully to the terror, because you know that you are exhausted and hormonal and that things will probably be okay.

The second time around, you let yourself sleep when the baby sleeps, even though you're not getting anything done. After all, last time the world didn't stop when you slept and didn't wash any dishes, and your husband or mom is watching the toddler. Sanity is more important than accomplishment!

The second time around, you are not shocked at the amount of exhaustion you feel or surprised by the lack of sleep. You are simply exhausted, but it's okay because you know that A), you'll get used to functioning even while tired and B), someday you'll get to sleep again.

The second time around, you have to make more of an effort to treasure all the time spent holding your baby, because your toddler also needs your love and attention. But you make that effort, even when it means sacrificing your own time, because in three months you will look at your sweet chubby baby and wonder, "Where did my newborn go?"

This Will Not Last

Alexandra and I spend so much time together that there are moments when it feels like being toddler mommy to her is all I will ever do. Sometimes this feeling comes with delight, and other times it comes with despair. But there were a few times this week when the impermanence of my current reality struck me.

1) Alexandra was outgrowing her toddler shoes, so we got a new pair. These new shoes are so noticeably bigger than her first pair of "real" shoes that I can't help but be astounded at how much she's grown in such a short period of time. When I look at those new shoes, I realize that change and growth are an inevitable part of my life with her. Physically she is quite different from six months ago, and incredibly different from a year ago, and these changes will keep happening. She is not going to be my little girl forever.

2) I also notice changes as she becomes more expressive of her personality and desires. When she was younger, happiness was wherever Mommy was. This week, she got to spend several hours with each set of grandparents, and at the end of those times, the announcement that we were leaving their houses caused brief tears. She recovered fairly quickly, but it's a simple reminder that this stage of life is so impermanent. Right now she occasionally prefers the fun and undivided attention she gets at her grandparents' houses to cuddling with mommy (something that was unthinkable only a few months ago!). Later on, she will sometimes prefer toys, hobbies, and friends to me; mostly likely she will one day move out and start her own life, maybe getting married and forming a new family.

I can't know what the future holds for our family, but if all goes well, if all goes as we usually expect life to go, then this time of being mommy to some very dependent human beings will be over before I know it. I am so glad when God reminds me of the brevity of this stage.

It reminds me to really enjoy this time, because someday I will miss it.

Justice, the Kingdom, a Toddler, and What Could Have Been a Bad Day

One day last week, I was exhausted. The night before we had Bible study, so we were up later than normal, and since Alexandra was at childcare, she was up quite a bit later than normal. She's been waking up at 6:30 every morning, but I assumed that since she went to bed late, she would sleep in a little.

But that didn't happen. A little before 6:30, I heard her start calling: "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?"

Now, I've never been a morning person. No matter what time I wake up, it takes me a little bit (and usually some coffee and shower) before I feel ready to face the day or talk to anyone else. Most days Ian takes her downstairs and plays with her for a bit so I can read my Bible and write in my journal, two things that help me prepare for the day mentally and spiritually. But that day he had to leave really early and work late, so I knew that most of the day, it would be just me and Alexandra.

She wakes up full of gusto and energy, so even though I brought her into my bed, we didn't snuggle and doze together like in her pre-toddler days. She wiggled, jumped, kicked, and talked nonstop in one-word sentences about everything she did the day before and everything she wanted to do that day.

I made coffee and took a shower, but it didn't help. I still felt exhausted, and on top of that, grumpy and sulky and heavily pregnant (pun intended). The stretch of four or five hours until she (and I) would take a nap seemed like an eternity of doing little, unimportant things that I could not face.

However, our pastor has been preaching on the kingdom of God at church, and you can sign up for text messages that send reminders, verses, and mini-devotionals every couple of days. Of course I would like to live out the kingdom of God here on earth. I like to picture myself as a defender of the weak, voice of the voiceless, fighter for justice, generous giver, loving toward all mankind, etc. After I got out of the shower and tried to think of ways to survive until nap time, the last thing on my mind was how I could cheerfully serve and mentally engage with my toddler by doing the menial tasks of a stay-at-home wife and mom.

And then I got the text, which said, "In the Kingdom, the least find justice. How can you care for the least today? How does that change your thinking?"

That text, especially the second question, changed everything. Often, because Alexandra is so young and the things I do for her feel menial and repetitive, her demands and problems so simple, that I feel like I'm not accomplishing much. I love her, but I don't love all the things that I have to do to care for her and our home. But the idea of caring for the least implies doing even simple things, because it is those basic things that "the least" can't do for themselves. I recently read an article by Tim Keller in which he talked about the idea of Biblical justice simply as giving equitably to everyone in society, including the least powerful and most vulnerable, their due, "whether punishment or protection or care."

In God's eyes, everyone and their needs are equally important, and if your calling for the day is to provide for one person's simple needs, in God's value system, that is every bit as important as the person whose calling for the day might be doing tasks that seem more important, or who is serving several people instead of just one.

I realized that my tasks for that morning didn't have to be menial, and I was able to repent of my bad attitude and selfish focus. Staying at home with one baby girl was a chance to live out the Kingdom of God on earth. I could care for her and offer justice by providing for her the needs that she could not provide for herself.

(Click here to read "What Is Biblical Justice?" by Tim Keller.)

Potty Training...

The plan was to attempt to potty-train Alexandra after Christmas. I had no idea how successful she would be, because she is only nineteen months old. But she showed some signs of being ready, such as being very aware of her bodily functions and telling me while or after they were happening. I wasn't sure if she would be ready for the next step of anticipating them, but I figured that we could try and if she wasn't ready, we'd put it on hold for a few months. On the plus side, if she did get potty-trained, even just daytime potty-trained, that would mean fewer diapers, a real bonus when you think about her little sister arriving in just two months.

I made a plan, involving lots of praise, maybe some M&Ms, and trips to the potty every half-hour or so. I also prepared myself mentally for the fact that she might be too young. I would put in a lot of effort, but if she wasn't ready I would be fine and not frustrated, I told myself.

However, once Christmas was over, I found I kept putting it off. At first, I would just forget. Half-hours go by so fast when you have a toddler! When I would remember, it would be immediately before lunchtime. That was no good, because a hungry toddler can be cranky and desperate, and so can a hungry pregnant woman. Or it would be immediately before her (or these days, our) nap time, also a desperate time for a pregnant woman.

I thought it would be best to start potty-training when I would have several days in a row where I could be at home so it wouldn't be inconsistent. But we wanted to take advantage of end-of-the-year sales and Ian's time off to do some shopping for Alexandra's new "big-girl" bedroom. So even when I started remembering that I wanted to potty-train her, I really didn't want to have to rush Alexandra into public restrooms every half-hour.

And then, there was just the matter of being tired. After December (end of the semester, finals, grading, Christmas, New Year's, etc.) I was exhausted. There were times when I just couldn't bear the thought of going upstairs, as I hadn't set up her potty seat downstairs yet. Ian had a week off between Christmas and New Year's, and I discovered that what I really wanted to do was rest, or do fun things while we were at home as a family. In my mind, nothing that involves being on a strict time schedule is fun.

And I began to realize that even if she was ready to be potty-trained, I wasn't ready to potty-train her. I think for something like potty-training to work, especially this early, you've got to be on top of things. You've got to be dedicated and stick to it no matter how you're feeling, even if it's right before lunchtime or nap time. But I was so tired I couldn't even stand the thought of climbing the stairs to take her to her potty chair.

So... I gave up on the thought that I was going to potty-train my daughter in the first few weeks of January. And I was okay with it. Now that the hectic-ness of the holidays is over and we're getting back into a routine, we may try to potty-train her before KPB (her little sister) is born. But this time, I will take into consideration whether or not we're BOTH ready.