Lame.

Lakers.
Clippers.
Dodgers.
Angels.
Ducks.
Kings.
Padres.

Does SoCal have the wussiest-named sport teams in the country or what?

DUCKS WIN! DUCKS WIN! DUCKS WIN!

Wow. What a game. Anyone who doesn't think hockey is anything interesting should really try sitting close enough to see the faces of the guys as they get squished against the glass. I enjoyed watching it before, but honestly, being that close made me want to play. It's so non-stop, so engaging, so exciting--I basically ate my way through the games when we were sitting in the nosebleed seats this past winter, but on Wednesday I barely managed to finish my pizza; I just felt like there wasn't time, there was just so much going on!

And then to see them win...I really wish I'd been a fan for longer, because then it really would have meant something to me. It was still fun, though, especially knowing only one guy on the entire team had ever been on a cup-winning team before. And when you're as sentimental as I am, it doesn't take that much for something to be really moving. This was really moving.

And Abby did pretty well sleeping at my parents' place. My mom didn't get any sleep, but Abby got about 7 hours which, while not as much as usual, is still not bad, considering she's never slept away from me before. But the big news is that she didn't try to nurse when I got her in the morning, and we didn't this morning, either...dare I say I think we're done? Granted she threw a fit when I didn't let her today, but she got over it pretty quick. I can't believe I may finally be closing that chapter of my parenting job with Abby. Definitely bittersweet.

I miss my car.

And it's going to be quite a while before I see it again. The mechanic called with the estimate (which the other guy's insurance is paying, THANK GOODNESS, because it's over $5,000!) and said it would probably be another...FOUR WEEKS. AAAAAUUUHHHGG! Although, I have to admit, the Nissan Quest we're renting drives really nicely--much more smoothly than our Odyssey. If you're thinking of getting a van, definitely test drive it.

But, regardless of how nicely it drives, I still want mine back. Besides the fact that I'm always worried when I drive a rental--what if I bust it?--it also doesn't have all the little stashes of handy stuff that we've built up in the Honda over the last year and a half. You don't think about how often you dip into those stashes until they're not there.

One good thing: Abby's learning to ride in the car without watching "Dee-dee." It's been a week and she still points to the ceiling and says, "Dee-dee?" every time we get in. I am greatly disturbed by her attachment to video. I think, when we get the Odyssey back, we'll NOT be watching it as much as we were. Though when she sees it's there and we're just not playing it, I can guarantee she'll throw a fit. Oh well. It's amazing how good I'm getting at tuning out those screams.

Go Ducks!!!

Dan is a huge hockey fan. Until we married I'd seen one hockey game in my whole life, and while I enjoyed it, I attributed it more to the fact that I was actually AT the game. But once I started watching the Colorado Avalanche with Dan, I got hooked. We've gone to a couple games this season when the Avs were playing the Ducks, and Dan's decided he's a Ducks fan, too. Well, for those of you who don't know (which, given how few people watch hockey, is probably most of you) the Ducks are in the playoffs for the Stanley Cup. This is very big. I don't think they've won it before. Tonight is game 5, and if they win, they win the cup, having already won 3 of the series games. And the best part is that WE HAVE TICKETS! And not only do we have tickets, we have AMAZING tickets: three rows from the glass, dead center on one of the blue lines. IIIEEEEE!!! My dad, being the incredible guy he is, bought them for us and surprised Dan with them after the Ducks lost the game on Monday. (The fact that they lost was actually a VERY good thing. Had they won, that would have been 4 wins, and the series would have been over. Not only would there not have been a game today, my dad wouldn't have gotten a refund. Ouch!) So if you don't have anything else to watch tonight, check out the game, and look for us! I think there's a good chance we'll get on TV, at least in quick little blips here and there; we're on the side of the ice where the penalty boxes are, and there's one fairly close to us, I think, and they always show those on TV. I'll be in a white Ducks jersey and black hat, Dan will be in an orange Ducks sweatshirt and a black hat. GO DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!

Not luck.

"God only knows the times my life was threatened just today;
A reckless car ran out of gas before it ran my way.
Near misses all around me, accidents unknown,
Though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home."

That was one of my favorite Amy Grant songs when I was a kid--"Angels Watching Over Me." I'm not really sure what I think about the whole angels thing--I think popular culture has probably overemphasized their role in our lives, but hey, there are worse ways to warp your spirituality. Anyway, I digress. The reason I've been thinking about that song so much tonight is because I had one of those guardian angel moments this evening when some kid in a fancy car took a turn at who knows how fast, jumped a median, and slammed into my van while I waited for a red light to change.

It's really weird to see a car coming at you and to know there's nothing you can do about it. The only thing I thought before he hit me was, "Oh boy, he just lost control. And now he's gonna hit me." I'll admit it, I didn't think about the fact that Abby was in the backseat. Does this make me a bad mom? Maybe that would have been the next thought, had there been time for me to have another thought. Or maybe it was part of that guardian angel thing--I wasn't scared at all. My life didn't flash before my eyes--and I've had that happen, the last time I was in an accident, though that time there was a lot of careening around on the road and slamming into stuff and airbags popping, so there was a lot more time to panic and think about what was going to happen next. But this time...I don't know, it was more like the feeling you get when you realize that, say, you're water heater burst and there's going to be a lot of mess to clean up: "Aw crap, there goes my afternoon."

We weren't hurt. The airbags didn't even go off. He wasn't coming at us at full speed, and he hit us at an angle, and on the side of the end of the car, so we didn't even get the full brunt of the impact. Abby had been crying already, annoyed that I turned off her VeggieTales music, and when we got hit she went silent for a second and then started to wail, but it was obvious it was just the shock of the impact and not from pain. When I got her into my lap and gave her my phone she was content. Given the fact that she was tired (I'd just left the house to take her out for her afternoon nap) and hungry, she was a real trooper for the hour that we were dealing with things. It's amazing how long a 17-month-old can be entertained with a cellphone and a wallet.

So now we have all sorts of fun ahead of us with our insurance and the other driver's insurance and car repairs and rentals and buying a new careseat for Abby (which just figures: that one was brand new--but California law requires that you replace a carseat that has been in a crash). Blah. And as the night's gone on my neck and back and shoulder and wrist have been aching more and more, so I'm probably in for some chiropractic visits too. But given what it could have been, this is no big deal. No big deal at all. My baby is okay, I'm okay, the car is driveable, we have insurance and so did the other guy.

Thanks, angels.

Circle of Life

Nana died last night. It was one of those things where she was breathing one second, and then she wasn't. She was sleeping at the time, too, so it was even more peaceful. We just found out Sunday that she had advanced cancer--bone, lymph nodes, liver, and lung--though the fractured vertebrae she's been dealing with since October turned out to actually be the beginning of the bone cancer, which most likely fed into the development of the others. Between then and yesterday she'd been doing sort of alright--heck, yesterday morning she had oatmeal for breakfast and was conversing with Mom--and at 5:45, when Mom was about to wake her up to introduce her to the new 24/7 hospice nurse that had just arrived, she decided enough was enough and went to Jesus.

Dad, Dan, my brother Kyle, and I had just gotten our salads at a local steakhouse when Dad's cell rang and Mom told us what had happened. We ditched dinner and went straight to Nana's house, and for the next two hours we all just hung out on the front step, waiting for the hoospice social worker to come, and then for him to do his thing. It was incredibly pleasant. Having Abby there was the perfect distraction, but no one shied away from speaking about Nana. We talked about how obvious it was that God had orchestrated things this way: Kyle and Kelli just returned Monday from Scotland, my dad had blocked off June so he doesn't have any speaking or traveling scheduled (minus a wedding he and Mom will go to in Chicago, during which he'll speak at Willow Creek's Chicago campus). It was a really lovely way to process what had happened and spend some quiet family time together.

Nana was 86. She lost a fiance in WWII, and married my grandfather, who she'd met when he was stationed in her hometown of Glasgow, Scotland, at the end of the war. Her wedding cake was cobbled together from rations borrowed from various Navy officials with whom she worked--she was a "WREN", which was the women's arm of Great Britain's Royal Navy. She came to America on the Queen Mary, lived awhile with her in-laws (picture Marie and Frank Barone minus the comic relief), and after many years, at 32, was finally able to conceive a baby girl. They raised her on a gracery cashier's and a barber's incomes in the suburbs of Chicago, which got increasingly more difficult in the long-haired 60's and 70's.

They retired to Sun City, Arizona before I was born, and came to visit every fall--September to me as a child always meant the beginning of school and two weeks with Nana and Papa at our house. Nana smoked from the time she was 15; one of my fondest memories will always be sitting on the back porch of our house, doing my homework at the table there while she had a cigarette. To this day, the smell of Marlboros instantly conjures Nana's face in my mind.

She and Papa moved here to California, just 5 minutes from where Dan and I now live, in 2001. Papa had a stroke quite soon after their move, and Nana was widowed that April. (Another one of God's provision: moving her out here before that happened.) In 2002 she and I took a cruise to Alaska, something she'd always wanted to do and never thought she'd get the chance to try. I'm so grateful to have been able to set that up for her; she was still talking about that trip a couple months ago. That autumn she suffered a fall that seemed to trigger a series of problems that eventually led to her losing the sight in one eye and being unable to lie down flat because of the vertigo that would always strike. The last five years have been progressinvely more and more frustrating for her as her health seemed to slowly slip away from her. Two events took her mind off those things: a trip back to Scotland in 2004, when Dan and I were her escorts, and the birth of Abigail, who brought her constant joy and entertainment.

She was an avid reader, a crossword puzzle expert, and, in her younger years, a skilled bowler--she still has a small trophy from who-knows-when sitting on her bookshelf. She loved rummage sales when social security provided most of their retired income, and in her later years, when an inheritance from her husband's sister brought her more money than she'd ever had in her entire life, she discovered the joys of retail therapy; Chico's, Talbot's, and Coldwater Creek can thank her for keeping them afloat for the last 5 years. (Oh, and how could I forget: QVC jewelry!) After fifty years in this country her voice still had a Scottish lilt.

Life goes on. Abby's whining at my feet, my stomach is growling, and there's a load of laundry that needs to be folded. But between demands on my brainpower I will think of cups of tea shared in the evenings after supper, sitting on the porch with wisps of smoke curling through the air above my history notebook, and hands of contract rummy between Nana, Mom, and me after holiday meals.

Bye, Nana. See you in heaven.

Snitch by Rene Gutteridge

I just put up a post on my other blog about Snitch, the newest release from Rene Gutteridge in her "Occupational Hazards" series. I read the first book in this series a while back and LOVED it. Anyway, check it out.

8 Things

Okay, so I was tagged for this meme, like, three weeks ago, and I've just been so busy I haven't had time to post it. So here goes: 8 Things You Don't Know About Me. (I don't think, anyway.)

1. I was a roleplaying game addict in college. True! I had a character on Shadowrun, a jazz-singing elf who managed to befriend the head of the Yakuza AND the Ancients. (Trust me, that's impressive.) The writer in me loved it because it was like writing a story where all the characters wrote their own part of the plot, and the shy-in-real-life, lousy-at-conversationalist in me loved that I could type everything instead of having to talk--I'm so much wittier and eloquent when I'm behind a keyboard. I'd log on as soon as I got home from class and stay on until I went to bed; my roommate actually got to the point where she had trouble falling asleep if I wasn't typing. :)

2. Dan and I not only met on eHarmony.com, but we're in some of their commercials, both on TV and the radio. When they first started doing commercials, we were on all the time, but now you don't see them as much.

3. I wrote my first novel in junior high. I used to write during my other classes, two lines of text per line on the notebook paper so I could squeeze more in and not go through paper so fast, and at lunch my friends would pass around the pages I'd completed and keep up with the story. It was really melodramatic--surprise, surprise, given I was in seventh grade--and until 2002 it was the longest piece of writing I'd ever done (and the only book I'd ever finished).

4. I sang in the Black Choir in college. That's what it was actually called, the Black Choir, which tells you just how much I stuck out.

5. I've seen the musical Les Miserables 7 times.

6. In 2002 I went on an Alaskan cruise, and the ship had a piano bar where you could do karaoke with live accompaniment. The piano guy could play pretty much anything, and he'd play whatever he felt like until someone made a request, and when you requested something he'd let you sing it if you wanted, microphone and everything. So one night I went and requested a song and sang along, and then people started giving me requests. I ended up singing for two hours, and at the end of it we'd packed the bar. I sang every night for the rest of the cruise, and one night someone asked if I knew anything from Les Miz. Ha! I can sing practically the entire libretto! So we did, like, four songs from that, and the next day I had two people ask me who I'd been when I'd toured with the musical!

7. I've only read three of my dad's books--and none of them was The Case for Christ.

8. I hate being outside.

Upon reviewing this list, I have to say I am probably one of them most uninteresting people on the Internet.

I know I'm supposed to tag 8 other people or something like that, but I think everyone I'd usually tag for this kind of thing has already done it in the last month or so. Sorry I'm breaking the chain--I'm not gonna have bad luck for the next 8 years or anything, am I?

Wean-y, whiny, woe!

Hell hath no fury like Abby when she's told she can't nurse. WOW. Last night was the first night I didn't nurse her at all once she fell asleep. Up until now, I've been cutting her off after 30 seconds and making her go back to sleep wit her paci and not, um, me. She was doing pretty well, with just the occasional crying bout that was more plaintive and tired than actually mad, and I could usually get her back to sleep with some gentle shushing and back-rubbing. The last two nights I've gotten her to bed in the first place by nursing her for a few minutes and then giving her the paci; she hasn't gone straight to sleep but she hasn't been as roly-poly and crazy as she used to be, either, so last night I decided to take the leap and cut her off after that initial nurse. She slept for about 2.5 hours and then woke up, which is par for her, and I went in and cuddled her and shushed her and told her that the milk went night-night.

Enter screaming banshee.

I've never seen Abby that kind of upset before. She was screaming a new kind of scream, and kicking me, and alternately slapping and grabbing at my chest. I'd try to pick her up and she'd throw herself out of my arms. I couldn't help but laugh, which I know sounds totally heartless and cruel, but honestly, it was like she was possessed or something, and all I could think was, "Holy overreaction, Batman! It's just thirty seconds of milk!"

This lasted for about 10 minutes before she managed to worm her hand under my shirt and, um, grab me. And then--silence. I'd been stopping her from putting her hands up my shirt because I was afraid she'd be like, "Hey, they're here, let me at 'em!" But apparently the skin contact was the only comfort she needed. She was pretty worked up, so it took her awhile to fall asleep, but other than the hiccuppy leftovers from crying, she was quiet. The rest of the times she woke up she'd start getting upset, but I'd just shove her hand up my shirt and she's calm down pretty quickly. Go figure. Whatever works, eh?

We have our tickets for our flight to Dallas in July, so I've been pretty motivated to make sure she's fully weaned and used to not nursing anymore to sleep so that when my parents take her for that weekend she'll be okay. After we get the nights down pat (or close) we'll start working on the daytime naps. With the price of gas going the way it is, it's getting awfully expensive to drive her around twice a day...

Putting one foot in front of the other

Metamorpha Chapter 2 Blogmap: Talk about what it might look like to climb toward what you wish were true (but isn't yet) about your life.

I think that I knew in my head that I needed to change, that I was not the person God wanted me to be, but it wasn't clear exactly how I needed to change until I got married and became a mom. Marriage was a mirror for me; suddenly I could see, quite clearly, just how selfish and independent (to a fault, that is--independence in and of itself isn't a bad thing) I was. I think that over the last three (four in August!) years I've improved in those areas. But then I had Abby and realized that, yes, I had improved, but I'd not gotten anywhere near where I needed to be. If marriage was a mirror, then motherhood was a big booming voice from heaven.

Who do I wish I was? Well, all sorts of things, but for practicality's sake, I'll limit my desires to those I can actually attain. I wish I was more selfless. I tend to keep score in my head, though I never actually voice that score to the person against whom I'm counting. I wish I could be more generous and sacrificial and not think, "Score one for me--now how are you going to repay me?" I've been really convicted lately by some of my friends--not that they know they were being convicting. They're just being, well, generous and sacrificial and selfless. Compared to them I live with an embarrassment of riches, and yet they give of their time and goods and energy without a second though.

I wish I was more disciplined. I'm getting better, but it's like my brain can only handle so many "must-do's" before it shuts down. I look at my mom and see how disciplined she is, how every single day she's doing things she definitely doesn't want to do, but does them faithfully anyway. I wouldn't last for a week living as she does. I'm such a marshmallow.

I wish I had a more intimate relationship with God. I'm trying, I really am, but I feel like I've been trying my whole life and haven't gotten any closer--like living on a hamster wheel. I think changing my entire approach and perception of what it means to live the Christian life is going to help, and Metamorpha is key in that change. When I think about Abby and what I want to model for her, I realize that at this point the whole lesson would be "Don't do it this way." And that's wrong.

I want to be bolder. I want to be braver. I want to be less fearful of messing up and more willing to take risks. I want to be able to speak my mind--nicely, mind you, but honestly, too--and not censor myself just because someone might not agree with me--or, worse, because someone might get angry with me.

So those are the things I wish were true about my life. But the question asked what it would look like to turn those wishes into reality. I think I'm afraid to fully consider that question, because I know a major chunk of the answer is going to be: work. Another major chunk is going to be: pray. Work is hard. Work hurts. Work gives me bruises and strains my muscles and makes me sweat. I don't mind the work when it's external--working on my writing, working on the laundry, the house--but when it's working on myself....ouch. And despite the fact that I'm going on 26 years of being a Christian, I still suck at praying. And that right there is a testament to the fact that I need to do some work.

So...*deep breath*...it's going to look like:

letting go of things and giving as freely as God has given to me

letting go of my obsession with comfort in order to look back in a couple years and see that yes, I am different, but in a good way

taking one day at a time and saying that today I will do X, and Y, and Z, not because I want to but because I need to--and not thinking, "How will I ever last doing X and Y and Z every day for the rest of my life?" so that I get overwhelmed and give it all up

rooting my self-worth in my Maker and not the acceptance and love of people

opening my hands, my head, and my heart to God and praying the most dangerous prayer known to man: Father, change me.

Almost couldn't type that last one. It's too scary. Do you have any idea what God does to people who pray that earnestly? He does it! And that's what scares me. Because it's not a matter of slapping on a new coat of paint or glue-gunning some trim around the edges or rearranging the furniture. It's about dismantling the house--board by board, nail by nail--and allowing a whole new structure to be built. Lots of sweat. Lots of blood. Lots of splinters, and mis-swung hammers, and flat-out pain. But if I believe God to be who I think he is, and I believe that his Son has come that I may live life to the full, then what else can I do but take him up on the offer of a remodel?

deep breath

Father?

Change me.

Mother's Day

My mother's day got an early start when Abby woke up vomiting at 6 this morning. Poor kid. Spent the morning watching "dee-dee" (a.k.a. TV--I am SO SAD she has a word for TV, but oh well), throwing up, and sleeping on her tummy on the floor, arms and legs cocked like a little frog. It was adorable, or would have been, anyway, if I hadn't known she was wiped out from puking. :( But she stopped throwing up just as quickly as she'd started, and by 8:30 she seemed fine, and other than being far more cuddly than she usually is, she's been fine ever since. Thank heavens!

It's been forever since I blogged--and forever since I did anything remotely connected to writing or studying. Why is it I keep thinking I'm finally going to get to start writing again and then I just don't? Grrr. Although the one day last week that I did get to write I got myself unstuck from a scene that was going nowhere, so that was encouraging. So close to finishing this chapter, and then I get to edit! I've never been excited about editing before, but this time I am. I think editing makes me feel like a Real Live Writer, even more than writing does--because anyone can write, right? It's the people who are willing to take time to comb through what they've written and redo it and analyze it and scrutinize it that are writers. Or something. I don't know, just kinda pulling that outta my imagination, really. :)

I started weaning Abby four nights ago. I'm shocked to be able to say it's actually working. Every night she's gone longer and longer without nursing--last night she slept for two four-hour stretches and only nursed once! Long may it last.

Coming out of hiding...

...at least that's what it feels like. You know how it is when everyone gets sick, and you're hunkered down at home under a pile of tissues and laundry and Alka Seltzer Cold Plus wrappers, and you only venture out for more tissues or groceries? That was us. But I'm feeling so much better (she says after a huge sneezing fit); Abby and I even walked to the park this morning. And Dan just finished his term paper tonight, which means--drumroll--I get to start writing again!

I've been sort of stuck at this one part, and the last couple times I've written I've spent most of the time staring at this one paragraph, trying to figure out what it's supposed to do. It dawned on me the other night (as I lie waiting for the Alka Seltzer to kick in--man, I love that stuff) that there was a whole avenue I'd left unexplored with this character, and it really needed to be explored before I got to this paragraph. Ah-ha! Suddenly the knot was untangled in my mind and I knew exactly what to do once I got to start writing again. I love it when that happens.

I just realized the clock on the mantel is dying again; I thought it was 10:55 PM but it's already 11:15! This little clock is coming up on 10 years old; I love it but it's getting all temperamental and stopping now and then for no reason, even when the batteries are fresh. Then one day you notice it's going again. Whatevs. Anyway, guess I better hit the sheets. Tomorrow I get to go speak to a book club that read Violette BEtween this past month--I LOVE doing that!

Lesson of the day

File this one under "learned the hard way:"

Just because a cold medicine doesn't list a specific "will put you to sleep" ingredient in its nighttime version doesn't mean it won't still put you to sleep if you take it at 10 in the morning.

:P

We're all sick here. Abby started it with a high fever over the weekend; she also stopped eating much during the day and was nursing like mad at night to make up for it. Now Dan and I (and my mom) have wicked colds--the same stupid cold we all had back in March. Bah! I haven't had time to write all week because Abby's been such a handful, and now my head is so full of snot I don't think there's any room for creative words. Haven't had a chance to read the next chapter of Metamorpha either, but as soon as I do I'll post my blogs about it and a new message on the Metamorpha.com community board.

Hope you're all having a better week than I....

Change in plans

Hey, if you'd like to join me in reading and studying Metamorpha: Jesus as a Way of Life (see the post from yesterday for more details) then join the thread on the Metamorpha.com discussion board that I started today. Go to Metamorpha.com, become a member if you aren't one yet (it's free), click on Community, then on "the individual in formation", then on the general folder, then look for the "Reading through Metamorpha" thread. I figure this will be easier than trying to discuss the book through comments on blogs. And don't forget to let me know if you'll be posting on your blog about what you're reading in the book so I can add you to my Metamorpha list.

Where did I get that idea?

Metamorpha Chapter 1 Blogmap: Try to pinpoint the traits, both good and bad, that come from the religious tradition you grew up with or are currently in.

I belong to the first generation of people who grew up in a seeker church. For those of you who've never heard that term, a "seeker church" is a church that is geared towards reaching non-Christians. Now, every Christian is charged with the great commission--spreading the gospel--but seeker churches take it a step further by programming their entire service around making non-Christians feel welcome through the kind of music and media used (and the kinds of overtly religious symbolism they leave out) and by teaching entry-level lessons on the faith.

Thinking back to how that experience shaped my spiritual beliefs, I realize that the concept of spiritual formation wasn't addressed much at all. The emphasis was on what Christianity is, what it believes, and why people should be Christians--which makes sense, given the expected audience. The sermons focused on living in a Christian way and how that manifests itself in your relationships, marriage, financial practices, etc. As a result, I know a lot about the application of the faith, but very little on the development of it.

There are a lot of things I learned through my seeker-church years that I don't really believe anymore. I came to believe that the more traditional forms of worship--singing hymns, reciting creeds, praying prayers that were written out by someone else (like in a prayer book)--were either insufficient (though for what, I don't know), ineffective, or just plain wrong. No one ever said this, but I think the fact that they were omitted completely was enough of a lesson. I came to believe that there must be a specific day to which a Christian can point and say, "That's when I became a Christian." I also came to believe that church is a place where people come to become Christians, and not just a place where Christians come to grow and be taught. It's hard to admit that I think I was mistaught; I don't like to shed a poor light on a movement that led to my entire family being Christian today. But every movement has its faults.

Obviously I learned things there that I am grateful for having been taught. For example, I am pretty well-versed in the defense of the faith. I know the basic doctrine. I know the support for the Bible that allows us to be confident in its truth and teaching. I know how to integrate my faith into my everyday life and not compartmentalize my faith.

It's interesting, now, being a mom and being in charge of facilitating the spiritual development of another person. I'm much more aware of how the way I approach my faith will permanently impact my child. I think of the things I was raised to believe, the traditions we held or did not hold, the ways my parents demonstrated their faith, and I think about how Dan and I will do things the same or differently from them. And it hits me just how immense the responsibility is. The responsibility for churches is uthe same: immense. Guess that's why the Bible has that passage about leaders and teachers being held to a higher standard.

Metamorpha

On the days that I write, I spend the first hour of my "writing time" studying. I'm going through four different books at the moment: The Portable Seminary, Following Jesus by N.T. Wright, The Bible, and my brother's first book, Metamorpha. I started Metamorpha today, even though I edited the whole thing last summer, because reading for editing and reading for edification are two very different things. Back then I read for grammar and cohesion and organization; today I read because I've known for so many years that my spiritual life is anemic and whithering and I just didn't know why.

One sentence stuck out to me and really hit home: "The Christian life is not living out how we already see; it is a journey of redemption." It's not about walking through the door of conversion and being done. It's not about simply turning our back on certain beliefs and actions. It's about constant, unending, Spirit-led change: a journey that ends only when we go Home. You're not done when you pray the sinner's prayer; you're just starting.

On one level I have always known this. Of course there's more to it than just that quick prayer--there's the daily struggle against the flesh, against sin, blah blah blah. But if there's supposed to be a relationship with God, then there should be more than just struggle, right? A life of nothing but fighting can't be all the Christian life is supposed to be.

Having read Metamorpha already, I know what's coming up, and I know that reading it is going to change me--thank heavens, it's about time! But I don't want to do it alone. I'm inviting you to join me.

Kyle has written a curriculum that is available--free!--from the book's website. (Click on "dowloads" at the top.) I'm going to read a chapter a week and go through the curriculum, and then post to the blog about what I've read. (Part of each lesson actually includes blog ideas--how cool is that?) If you'd like to do the same, let me know and I'll set up a whole new list of links to every participating blog, so we can all read each other's repsonses and leave comments of insight and encouragement for each other. (A leader's guide is also available, so if you're in a small group that is looking for a new study, point your leader to Metamorpha!)

I really hope some of you will come along with me on this journey. Roadtrips are always more fun with a crowd. :) And I pray that God uses this book and this experience to renew your spiritual life and breath fresh air into your relationship with him.

Time to read...and morph!

A Bigger Life

Even though my official blog is temporarily out of order, I'm still posting the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance posts there because...well, because I am, so there. Anywayhttp://www2.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif, I wanted to direct your attention to the post I put up there today on this week's selection, A Bigger Life by Annette Smith. I haven't been reading the books for CFBA lately because I just don't have the time, but I'd heard from my agent that this was a really good one, so I took the opportunity for a free book--and boy am I glad I did! A really great story--devoured it in two days and wept at the end. Always a good sign, if you ask me. :)

Band geek? Choir snob? Primadonna ballerina? The possibilities are endless!

We've known since she was tiny that Abby enjoyed music, but to see a talent for it emerging when she's still so young has been really amusing. Three cases in point:

She "sings" now and then in this high breathy voice without a lot of enunciation, and lately she's started to actually mimic musical patterns, albeit just two notes in a row, but still. She's been spot-on with pitch a couple times, too. And she's got rhythm, I think, anyway-she's been clapping along with songs lately.

She loves playing the musical toys we have: drum and tambourine and pianos. And Dan just got Guitar Hero for his Xbox, and she actually drags the guitar over to him when he's not playing so that he'll start, and she pushes the buttons and claps along with the songs. Sometimes he puts the guitar on her and they "play" the game together--I'll have to get my camera out next time he plays in case they do it again and she holds still; it's so cute to see her with the guitar on!

Dan also got Dance Dance Revolution. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, go to this video and check it out before reading the rest of this so you appreciate just how adorable this was. (The screen on the right is what comes up on the TV; you step on the arrows on the pad that correspond with the arrows on the TV as they reach the top row. This little boy in the video, by the way, is about a hundred times better than I am. I'm not sure which is sadder: that a 5-year-old is more coordinated than me, or that a 5-year-old has spent that much time in front of a TV. At least he's not sedentary.) I was playing it and Dan and Abby were hanging out. Abby kept walking around the pad and watching me. Then she went to Dan's bookshelf, pulled out a large workbook, placed it on the ground behind me, then stood on it and began stomping her feet around as she watched me.

So, which one will she go for in the end, I wonder? Instruments, which we hope to start her on early, either violin or piano, or singing, which she'll certainly get exposed to a lot thanks to my inability to hear a song I know and not sing along, or dancing, which I'd also like to get her involved in eventually? I'll have to make a guess and record it in her baby book and see in ten years which way she leans...

Coming up for air

I can't tell you how many thousands of pages I've read over the last month. I just finished another book--let's see, that makes...*counting*...5 books since the beginning of March? No, forgot Jane Eyre--6 books. And three of them had over 800 pages. Egads. Anyway, I'm taking a breather before diving into another book (that Outlander series has me SO addicted--I swear they must dust the covers with crack or something) to do a little blog updating. I know you're thrilled.

In the Abby department:
At her 15 month well-check the doctor said Abby's verbal development is in the 18-24 month range, which doesn't much surprise me. Apparently the 18 month well-check is mostly a language screening, so she said we could skip it and just come in for her 24 month. I was so proud--it felt like having your kid's teacher tell you she can skip the next grade. :)

She has discovered the joy of shrieking. 'Nuff said.

New words include "more" (which she's been signing for months but she now signs and says) and "aw-riiiight!", which is REALLY cute. She does "wow' sometimes, too, in this breathless voice that sounds like she's truly awed. She also says "ff, ff" when you ask what dogs say--not quite right, I know, but I see why she'd say that and it works for me.

In the writing department:
I've started chapter 4 in my current WIP and have to say I am quite pleased with my progress so far. I have a group of friends who offered to be my test market for the first 3 chapters, and the feedback so far has been helpful and encouraging. All the reading I've been doing has been paying off, too; I can tell the voices from some of the characters I've been reading and the styles of some of the authors are rubbing off on me, in a good way. Don't forget, all you wannabe writers: READ READ READ!!!

All my Rita award stuff is in, and Dan and I have decided to go to the award ceremony in Dallas this July. This means Abby will be staying with my parents for the weekend we're gone--my stomach is already in knots. It also means we'll need to have her night-weaned by then. Having just done the day-weaning and feeling like we're finally good in that department, I've gotta say I'm nervous about this next step. Partly because I know it's not gonna happen without tears, and not just regular tears but nighttime while-everyone-is-trying-to-sleep tears, which means we're in for some rough nights. But also because, as much as it annoys me sometimes, I love nursing Abby. I love the connection. I love that I can give her something no one else can. I love that she's comforted by it--I know now why she's never attached to a "lovie", it's because *I* am her lovie! Well, a specific part of me, in reality, but still, it's kind of a package deal, and I'd like to think that the rest of me gives her comfort, too. And once we stop, that's it with her, that connection is gone forever. It's breaking my heart, but I know it has to be done, and not just because of the trip, but because I don't want to nurse when I'm pregnant and we're hoping that will be a reality soon, too; the trip is just giving us a more definite deadline. *sigh* Okay, so that wasn't really writing-related, I got a little carried away, sorry.

Well, Abby's at my feet begging for "uppie!" so I'm off to be a mom. And then read some more. I'm already feeling the withdrawal....