and then there were four

Some of you may remember that having a baby takes time for me... lots, and lots, of time.  So, when I felt a few easy contractions start up this time, I disciplined myself to stay relaxed and try to rest early.  It was a little before midnight on Friday evening and realistically, and I knew we'd be lucky to meet our little girl before the end of the weekend.  Still, I text-messaged my midwife to let her know that maybe, just maybe, this was really the beginning of labor.  She wisely reminded me to get some rest and keep her posted.  I settled next to my slumbering husband and tried to go to sleep.

A bit over an hour later, my mind was filling with "to do's" - things I wanted to make sure were wrapped up around the house before we left have a baby.  In spite of wisdom calling me to stay in bed, I got up, convinced that I could settle my mind in a warm, steamy shower.  Contractions continued, seemingly "organizing" a bit into an evenly spaced, hardly noticeable rhythm of labor.  Still over 15 minutes apart, I knew this was (at best) very early labor, and so I enjoyed a leisurely shower.  Long, hot showers are a bit of a luxury when your "career" is full-time mama of little boys.  So, wee hours of morning or not, I really enjoyed it.

As I left the downstairs bathroom, I noticed a few large containers of blueberries.  We had just picked about 25 lbs the day before, and I had not gotten them into bags (and the freezer).  Realizing that if labor actually progressed overnight, I wouldn't be able to finish that project, I stopped and began bagging blueberries.  (Yes, it was a little before 2 AM.  Yes, this made sense to me at the time.  Rest, schmest.)  As I began organizing ziploc bags, however, I noticed that the contractions felt a little uncomfortable and seemed a little closer together.  

I headed upstairs to time things, and found contractions, though still mild were now around 10 minutes apart and maybe - just maybe - this labor would not take all weekend.  I decided that I should have Mr. Kenobi call his mom, who lives about an hour & a half away, to let her know we could need her to come stay with the boys before they got up in the morning.  When I woke him, I also asked him to send a message to the midwife to let her know I was predicting we'd want to head to the birth center within the next few hours, as I didn't want to labor too long at home and have to get in the car when things were difficult.

He called both his mom and the midwife.  Everyone would be ready for us within an hour or so, and we could speed up the timeline if I wanted.  At this point, I noticed that stacked in neat piles, around the border of our bedroom, were stacks of clean laundry.  I had spent much of the prior day purging  maternity clothes and larger-sized diapers from their places, making space for the infant-sized diapers in the changing station and (hopefully) smaller-sized, normal clothes for me.  Since it was still over a week to my due date, I had not packed much into the small bag I planned to take to the birth center.  I decided to find the baby's "going home" outfit and a few things for myself.  In the process, contractions actually started to get uncomfortable, a good sign that things were moving along.

Before I had found my shampoo and a couple blankets for the bag, however, I decided that I'd rather get to the birth center than stay around the house much longer.  The contractions seemed closer together and I was certain this was progressing into "real" labor.  I asked Mr. Kenobi to call the midwife back and ask her to meet us earlier, and call our neighbor to stay with the boys until his mom arrived.  While he felt I was probably overly excited, he obliged.  My midwife asked if he'd prefer she come to us, in case we felt labor was really progressing quickly.  He asked me, and we both assured her that we really wanted (and were able) to get to the birth center for the more difficult stages of labor.  Our neighbor said he'd be there within 10 minutes, and Mr. Kenobi told him it would take us at least that long to get the car loaded and ready to leave.  This was around 2:45 am.  Our three Obis slept soundly in their room down the short hallway from our bedroom.

I headed to the bathroom while Mr. Kenobi tried to help finish my bag-packing task.  As I rounded the doorway back into our room, I told him that this was starting to get hard to handle.  Labor was progressing faster than I'd ever experienced - after all, it was only a couple hours from the first sign of contractions, and I was feeling like these were coming quite quickly and getting painful.  He calmly reassured me, and softly advised me to breathe deeply and relax; we'd get to the birth center soon and I'd have a wonderful, beautiful birth.  He also dialed our midwife to give an update.  "Let's go downstairs and get in the car, honey.  We're not far and Mr. L (our neighbor) will be her in a minute."  He took my hand to help steady me and I was reminded how much I can rely on his wise, strong, calm presence at all times, but especially in moments like this.

As he spoke, my heart and mind calmed but my body launched into a massive contraction.  I stood by my bed, and tried to remain focused through it.  Suddenly, I looked at my husband in surprise and said, "I think this baby is coming quickly!  I can't go get in the car!  I don't want to ride anywhere."  

My husband spoke calmly and deliberately: "it's okay, sweetie.  You're doing great and you've got time.  Just take a breath in - nice, deep breath."  He had my cell phone cradled on his shoulder and dialing.

Another contraction followed quickly as I hissed my reply to his "breathe in" advice: "I CANNOT SUCK HER BACK IN!!"

"Oh my gosh!  There's a head!"  Mr. Kenobi, ever calm but obviously shocked, held out his hands to help me as the phone dropped on the ground.  I could faintly hear our midwife's voice from the speaker.  With little more than a single, difficult contraction, our daughter was emerging into this world.  Mr. Kenobi began grabbing from the pile of clean, large cloth diapers behind me, and said something about me being tall and distance to the floor.  I lowered myself a little closer to our bedroom carpet as I felt another contraction, and found my husband "catching" our daughter and quickly (expertly, even) checking her umbilical cord to make sure it wasn't wrapped around her.  A small cry and snarfly breath later from our baby, and we looked at each other in shock.

Our child was beautiful, breathing, and very much here.  Time was spinning fast.  I held her and began trying to rub her skin with blankets and keep her close to me for warmth.  Mr. Kenobi picked up the phone to hear the midwife say she was around the corner and offer some instructions for the next few minutes.  Our neighbor knocked on the door, and my husband let him in, saying, "The baby is here.  Could you stick around and keep the dog downstairs?"  Bless Mr. L, he did stay - even offering to help if we needed anything.  He was an amazing sport, though I'm pretty sure we may have traumatized him forever.  The boys, meanwhile, were still sleeping.

Our midwife arrived within a few minutes, and hustled upstairs to check out me and our little "Princess Leia." The umbilical cord had started to cease pulsing, offering the last surge of oxygen-rich nourishment to our baby.  Mr. Kenobi was offered the chance to "cut the cord."  Since he'd already delivered the baby, I suppose that was a little anti-climatic, but still a special privilege.  The midwifery team helped me complete delivery of the placenta and began newborn checks, and both of us proved healthy and well.  Ever practical, I looked at my midwife and quipped, "I suppose I'm going to have to replace this carpeting."  Birth is, after all, a notoriously messy endeavor, and I'd just had an unplanned home birth in my bedroom.  She laughed and just congratulated us on a "very natural" childbirth.

Within a half hour or so, I went to take a quick shower while the midwives cleaned up my room.  Thanks to my lack of task-completion (leaving piles of cloth diapers on the floor), everything had actually been completely contained on washable linens.  Before I returned to my room they had put everything into the wash.  There was literally no evidence that anything unusual had happened in my room.  My girl is speedy AND tidy.  Sweet!  

While I showered, Mr. Kenobi sat nearby in case I needed anything.  The adrenalin of the past two hours (an endorphin rush that is supposed to help a woman naturally labor through transition and final stages of labor) was beginning to hit me now, and I felt a burst of energy.  "Well," I said, "I guess I can check 'have a baby' off my to-do list for today.  What do I do now?  I'm awake - maybe I could finish those blueberries!  Or, I could put on makeup.  We are going to take some pictures, right?" I think Mr. Kenobi nearly fell off his seat as he laughed out loud. My husband and I are nothing if not a really good team with a common sense of humor.

I returned to my room, held my baby, and looked to the midwives as they laid out the next options.  "Well, you're both doing great.  If you'd like we can keep monitoring everyone and you can get ready to head to the birth center."  YES!  I may have had a home birth, but I was headed to the most wonderful B&B-like experience anyway.  Every mama should get to have a baby in that sort of space and nurturing environment, really.  A complete team of midwives, post-partum doulas, lactation experts, and massage therapists would care for me and our daughter during the next three days.  My husband would hang out with us, our boys and family would get to visit, all in a homey and beautiful sanctuary of baby bliss.  Andaluz Birth Center, I *heart* you and your people.

While incredibly weird to load a newborn into her "going home" outfit and car seat to take her TO the birth center, we went anyway.  And three days later, we put her back in that outfit and car seat to head back to the place of her birth. 

In the end, all that really matters in this long story are these four words: We. Had. A. Baby.  A beautiful baby girl is now part of our family.  Mama and daughter are doing well, older Obi's love her to pieces, and Dada will forever get to tell the story of catching her in his protective, loving arms - the first act in a lifetime of care for his girl.  Two parents, four kids, a dog, a fish, four chickens, awesome neighbors, and incredible extended family.  Our life overflows with blessings. Welcome home, little one.

learning in the nest

A couple months ago, as part of a series of decisions for our kids and family, we brought Obi-1 home from school.  Our hope is to try a different approach to education for a bit, settle down from the years of efforts that have not worked out for him, us, or the school, and regain a little perspective.  Obi-2 had already been home for several months, leaving his kindergarten class in the fall when it was apparent he needed something different at that time.  Given our lifelong commitment and love for public education and our neighorhood, these decisions were complex, hard and time-consuming.  For the sake of your time, my sanity, and the privacy of my family, I won't go into those details now.  Suffice it to say, our "nest" got a bit more crowded during the day, and we all have spent a few months adjusting to the transition.  "Runamuck Elementary" has a little more meaning nowadays.  Overall, it's been lovely and better than I could have imagined.  At least for now, I'm very glad we have the boys home for school.  And of course, now it's summer vacation anyway...

But back to my title of this post.  The same week Obi-1 came home, we noticed a bit of construction on our front porch.  Within a few days it was apparent that a bird had decided our home was a good place for her family, too.  We wondered about the new neighbor, and were excited to soon find we had a robin sitting in the new nest!  Before long, a long-armed reach with a camera revealed three bright blue eggs in the nest. We enjoyed learning together in the little biology exhibit outside our windows.  Did you know that male and female robins take turns sitting on the nest, even though the female does most of the construction work and lays the eggs?  Not only that, but after the little ones hatch, did you know the parents take turns sitting, warming, and protecting their tiny offspring, while gathering food to nourish the whole family?  I don't think I knew some of these things before - if I did, seeing the life of this little family certainly taught me more than any reading I did on the subject.

It was sweet, really.  Here, as we Kenobis entered a season and decision that felt so intimidating, a little bird family had shown up as a natural encouragement and model.  We shared a lot in common, Mrs. Robin Redbreast & I: three children, all at home and learning to share, grow, survive, and eventually fly out into the world.  We also shared this space in our neighborhood.  The boys would eagerly peer out the windows to catch glimpses of baby beaks, poking out desperately for their parents and food, and learned to carefully open and close the front door so as to not spook the birds.  The Obis named the baby birds, even though we have no idea which little robins in our yard might actually be "Alex" and his siblings.  They dug worms out of the backyard, piling wrigglers in yogurt containers while creating vast holes in the dirt and mud, all in order to trek the treats to the mud in front of our porch and make life a little easier on Mr. and Mrs. Robin. Like our feathered neighbors, my boys would poke around our home, looking for me and asking for snacks or meals, listening to guidance on some of our academic endeavors, and discovering how to trust their God-given desires to explore and learn. We read this book and this book, checked out Audubon Society links, and memorized "Little Robin Redbreast" together.

After a couple weeks into the young birds' life, the parents protected and encouraged their young ones' departure from the nest.  Meanwhile, I was gently urging my boys to engage their critical thinking skills, nurturing their inquisitive minds, reminding them to pay attention to detail, and helping them value their own time.  They created poems and nature journals, measured lettuce in our newly sprouting garden, and read the newspaper.  We read a lot, and played even more.  While not fully settled as "homeschoolers," we were getting our bearings together at home, and that felt good. Flight is often awkward, full of failures and risk, and yet it delivers independent and exhilarating adventure.

With the flight of the baby robins, our front-porch science exhibit was over, or so I thought.  Just a few weeks ago, a new (or the same?) red-breasted couple moved in.  Within days, a photo revealed not three, but four little blue eggs.  They were beautiful.  We have loved watching this next "generation" in the same, yet different, processes of family growth.  It has been a sweet way to start a transition to summer, think ahead to the cycles of our home in the upcoming year, and anticipate our little Obi-4's arrival later this season.  More added, more nurtured, and more released to independence, life, and learning opportunities in the great big world.

farming

My grandparents had a house and land along the Missouri River when I was growing up.  We called it "the farm," but it wasn't generally a working agricultural property, at least not insomuch as I was involved.  It was simply my grandparents' land, where my family grew enormous vegetable gardens, expansive lawns, and lanky children.

I spent most of my childhood summers on the farm, and can picture the land, boundaries, and features in detail.  Recently, the area has been devastated by flooding as the dam above town releases as much water as possible, as quickly as possible.  Where once stood a grove of cottonwoods, natural castles we'd climb to rest in shady branches, now treetops are only accessible in aerial photography.  The rocky banks my grandfather carefully rip-rapped, those places where we skipped rocks, swam, and learned to windsurf in shallow water, are midstream of a quickly flowing and ever widening current.  The garden lot, where we grew produce in an area sometimes as large as a soccer field, is completely underwater, as is the small row of trees we planted for a windbreak.

The family house was sold years ago after my grandpa died, and subsequently remodeled to twice its size and grandeur.  No longer a family gathering spot for the immense array of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and near-family friends, that property has been foreign to me for years.  While the original "farm" may be burned in my mind more clearly than Eden, the reality of its recent seasons bears little resemblance to my memories.  Gone are the origins of Sunday coffees and sunburned ice cream breaks in the garden, replaced with floor-to-ceiling windows and viewpoints at every entertaining opportunity.  With only photos providing me access to that place now, I could quickly forget the irritations of flies, mosquitoes, heat, droughts, and flooded creek banks that likely still worried its inhabitants last summer.  Yet now it stands as an island, surrounded by the windblown wakes, nearly immersed sandbags, and totally inaccessible except for aerial photos.  The garden is under feet of water and waves.  All of this makes me very sad in some regard, but also very grateful to have had the life I enjoyed as a child.

The farm made me, and still makes me, better.

See, this week I took Obi-3 out to our local farmland near the river.  We picked strawberries - me putting them neatly into long, flat bins, and him popping ripe, juicy berries into his mouth.  As I bent over rows on the first day of summer, soaking in sunshine and tasting delicious candy-from-the-vine, I thought about how I could really just live out there.  I wondered why, in spite of the fact that I truly do love my urban home and neighbors, the farm makes me better - a happier, more laid-back, gentler and yet more productive person.  On the farm, I find myself surrounded by sweet voices of strangers and friends, varying generations, and far less priority on a clock.  Time on the farm brings back the familiar, comforting smell of dirt mixed with sunscreen and bug spray and wind.  And while it's a different river, crossing the towering bridge to our nearby farms takes me back to the countless trips over the river and down the road to Mamie & Bampa's house.

I think there's something healing about returning to those simple, agricultural bits of my heritage, which, like the banks of the Missouri River, have widened in recent years.  I'm no longer just a mid-western, ballerina, from a big-loud-family-with-deep-roots girl.  I may still be all of those things, but I'm also an urban mama, living in a mecca of liberal (er, uh, "progressive") politics, and raising Irish dancing, baseball-throwing, homeschooling gardeners of my own.  Diverse neighbors and friends make up the fabric of our social circle, and a complex, growing web of boisterous family gatherings beg our patience and participation.  Lately, I've been homesick for the familiar tenets of my childhood, including the farm and that big family I didn't think I'd miss so acutely.  Yet taking my boys out to the farm reminds me that we can grow where we're planted.  And that reality check, along with the sweetness of an early summer strawberry, makes me better.

living the dream

The boys and I watched Martin Luther King Jr's famous "I have a dream" speech this week.  We pulled out a youtube video during time we cheerfully refer to as, "Runamuck Elementary School."  Purposefully misspelled, "Runamuck" is our description of the day-to-day family life where we are learning and experiencing things that stretch, instruct, and enrich our lives.  It's a nice combination of activities, adventures, friends, family, and often, mess.  


Sometimes, people will refer to this "Runamuck" concept as homeschooling, but I think that term should probably be reserved for the families who take on the responsibility of teaching their children seriously and intentionally, with plans, curriculum, and vision of a specific form of education.  In our case, "Runamuck Elementary" is just part of parenting (and living) in the Kenobi household.


Lately, however, I've spent a lot of time thinking, reading, and considering what really makes one well-educated.  I ran across some of Dr. King's thoughts on the subject, which seemed as timely today as in 1947, when he evidently spoke these words:

"Education must also train one for quick, resolute and effective thinking. To think incisively and to think for one's self is very difficult. We are prone to let our mental life become invaded by legions of half truths, prejudices, and propaganda. 

At this point, I often wonder whether or not education is fulfilling its purpose. A great majority of the so-called educated people do not think logically and scientifically. Even the press, the classroom, the platform, and the pulpit in many instances do not give us objective and unbiased truths.

To save man from the morass of propaganda, in my opinion, is one of the chief aims of education. Education must enable one to sift and weigh evidence, to discern the true from the false, the real from the unreal, and the facts from the fiction.  The function of education, therefore, is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically.

...We must remember that intelligence is not enough. Intelligence plus character--that is the goal of true education."

Well said, MLK.  Well said.

riding into the sunset

Welcome to the end of our September.  Thirty days, 92 miles on our van (woot woot!).  I didn't keep track, but my best guess is nearly 600 miles on our bikes.  That was our primary mode of "transportation," although we did a lot of walking, too.  In short, we did it.  We managed to drive under 100 miles on the van in the whole month of September!  We weathered rain (pun intended).  We hauled groceries (yes, I'll take some help out with those bags, thank you).  We survived all of it without major incident, injury, or insanity.  We got to school, every day, on time (possibly the biggest miracle of all).  We even earned a bit of a reputation as "that biking family."  Again, woot woot!

While I'm frankly surprised by my own stamina and perseverance, I have to say that the biggest applause goes to the boys.  Obi-1 rode all of his biking miles on his own.  He is, as they say in Bike City, 100% kid-powered.  This is particularly impressive as he turned 7 years old in the early part of this month.  I know a great many 7-year-olds who aren't riding on two wheels, much less leading a pack on the city street commute, complete with signals, traffic knowledge, and incredible leadership.  Obi-2, not to be outdone at only 5 years old, rode about 60% of the time on his own bike.  He hopped on our "trail-a-bike" or in the trailer for a few longer or rainier trips, but has proven himself a respectable biker and able to keep up with older kids without the advantage of shifting gears.  Obi-3, of course, also wins big kudos for patiently riding all of the "and back" portions of the school drop-off & pick-up, grocery and library errands mid-day, and camping out in the seat or trailer for meetings, soccer practices, and every other little adventure.  He kept his sippy cup from falling onto the street most days, and has become pretty adept at playing travel theme songs on the kazoo.  Plus, he safely wins the prize for "cutest in a helmet."

I have to admit, I kind of like biking.  I recall liking it a few years ago, when we first really got into it as a family.  Back then, I would haul both older boys around in the trailer - mostly to & from school - and Mr. Kenobi and I would enjoy many "family bike rides" with the boys toted around behind us.  Midway through my pregnancy (and winter) with Obi-3, I stopped riding, and we had to wait for family bike rides until he was old enough to wear that adorable helmet and ride along.  In the meantime, friends who didn't even ride bikes have become carless, bike-only families.  Families at school have taken the charge to bike and organized events and trains.  Meanwhile, I sat in my minivan quite comfortably, thank-you-very-much.  I probably averaged about 400 miles per month on my van, plus extras if there was a big trip or vacation (say, 4500 miles in a summer month!), or if I got stir-crazy and went on a bunch of errands just to get out of the house.

Now I'm back on the saddle, and the older boys have grown into their own two wheels.  It's quite different to go anywhere, constantly watching them in addition to eyeing traffic, road hazards, and the route.  It's the best and worst of multi-tasking, and it sometimes brings out the best and worst of me.  Still, I love the crunch of the leaves under my wheels almost as much as Obi-2, who swerves into the gutters to see the swirl of color around his wheels.  I love how much Obi-1 delights in the chirps of crickets, and listening with him as we lead a bike train of friends back from an evening church service.  I even like Obi-3's slippered feet kicking me, begging for their lounging spot on my seat as he giggles at me tickling his toes in return.

There's more, too.  It was good to pedal out aggression, frustration, or apathy before it found a way into my words or expressions.  I'm thankful for the moments of after-school peace that biking has afforded us, smoothing out some of the rough edges from these first weeks of classes and forcing everyone to take some deep breaths.  It's nice to have a built-in conversation starter when meeting new people, and I've chuckled at how quickly people recognized that if I could do this, anyone can!  I've allowed myself to be just lazy enough that I wouldn't head out to the store for one item, since it would require a walk or bike ride, and instead I used what I had on hand.  Still, it was good to push myself (and the kids) to be prepared early so there's time to get everyone safely transported, locked, and unloaded at our destination.

As rewards for their contributions, I got the boys bike gloves.  They were delighted.  Tomorrow may be the first day of October, and next week we'll be leading a "bike train" of parents and kids on our route to school.  As days get shorter, colder, and wetter, we'll put on warmer clothes and stay flexible.

For now, I thank everyone for helping and encouraging us, and I pass on the challenge to you.  Yes, YOU.  The Kenobi family walked, biked, rode the train, and stayed put this month.  We combined errands and thought through our real needs before going out.  We asked for help from others, carpooled, and prioritized.  I lost weight and pants sizes.  We lost time on the freeway, but gained time with each other on the roads.  We went an entire month on very few miles.

I don't challenge anyone to save the world or pretend you could by pedaling around town, but I do think you might, as I did, find some value in this experiment.  Our own ongoing challenge will continue: we hope to average about 200 miles or less on our car each month in the coming year, except for major trips and vacations.  This doubles our mileage of September's challenge, allowing a little more driving for weather and wants, yet demanding that we keep practicing efficiency.  To go a whole year at under 2500 miles means we will get outside quite a bit.

What is possible for you?  What might you learn, gain, or lose in the process?  Let me know...

Love,
MamaToo

challenging exercise

Well, it's halfway through September, and that means we're halfway through this challenge!  In 15 days, we've managed to bike, walk, carpool, or just avoid going many places.  The boys are getting very competent in biking, and I've often reflected that this is a little like teaching them to drive, with all the worries and tempers and instructions that go into putting one's baby on the road.  While certainly different than handing them my keys, it is an exercise in faith, communication, and persistence to put a 5 & 7 year-old on their own bikes amidst urban traffic.   I'm glad I have 10 more years before they're asking to drive the minivan - maybe, just maybe, they'll ask for a new bike instead.  (ha!)

So, what have we learned?  First of all, there are costs of driving everywhere.  Gas, of course, and maintenance on the vehicle, are costs of loading up the minivan.  However, there's also the cost of not seeing, experiencing, or knowing things while riding blissfully along in our vehicle.  The leaves, which are starting to change here, and the few that have fallen crunch happily under the boys tires, remind me I might not have enjoyed the start of autumn nearly as much without experiencing those sites and sounds.  There are several routes to our school, but the primary one - the most direct with bike lanes & traffic signals - is so noisy and trafficked that we have enjoyed the quiet of several neighboring streets, even if they take a bit more time and caution.  I've learned to ask for, and accept, help - like the friends who are willing to include a couple items for me when they go to Costco, so I don't have to make my own 20-mile trip.   Finally, there is a "decompression" period that biking, and its allowance for some solitude, active attention, and physical exertion build into the beginning and end of each school day.  This is a very healthy addition to our commute, and not having it before was probably a cost I hadn't recognized.

There are also considerable costs to choosing against driving.  Time, for example.  We have to build in extra time for getting places, and on top of the difference in speed, I hadn't realized that every trip would require an extra ten minutes - five to get the bikes, helmets, et al out of the shed & ready to go, and five to load and lock bikes at our destination.  In the first few days, it was even more time as we all figured out the best system for loading & unloading!  I hadn't counted on this, and was easily frustrated when our early starts and extra time melted away, minute by minute.  Another big cost is convenience; instead of running a quick errand here and there, or heading back when one item is forgotten, or happily meeting up with several people in several different places, I need to to "measure twice and bike once," to avoid making extra trips anywhere.  There is a cost for equipment, like additional lights and safety gear, that probably takes the place of gas in this particular challenge.  And the more obvious loss: calories.  Of course, this may be a good thing, given that my pants are looser.  Still, it must be accounted for as I find I'm actually worn out if I skip eating a meal or snack during the day, and there's no good way to grab a bite while pedaling!

Finally, in the interest of full disclosure, I want to be clear that this isn't a car-less month for us.  While I'm aiming to keep driving my vehicle to a minimum, we have adopted some habits of a one-vehicle household.  This means we sometimes drive Mr. Kenobi's car on the weekends (like when going to multiple shops to find a new bike for Obi-1, or crossing town for our first soccer game, or getting home from my 10K run).  Also, he has driven himself to work often, and I'm not asking him to join the challenge or count his driving (given his 24-mile roundtrip commute, it's a big commitment each time he does bike!)  To be clear, I don't see any of this as cheating on our 100-mile challenge.  I still carefully plan my time & trips during each week, and my goal is to limit miles my own vehicle.  While haven't put many collective miles on his car, we probably couldn't pull this challenge off otherwise.

For those keeping track, here are the numbers:

• 32 miles driven on the minivan
• 15 days into the challenge
• 8 school days
• 4 soccer practices
• 4 neighbor/friend kids who've biked with us on at least one trip
• 4 new bike lights, attached with zip ties to the Obi's helmets
• 3 falls or accidents, resulting in minor injuries
• 3 family bike rides for a meal or other excursion 
• 3 mid-week grocery stops after school, picking up small things with 3 kids
• 2 trips riding with a neighbor or friend, instead of driving myself
• 2 sets of fenders, to keep mud from streaking our backs
• 1 new bike (Obi-1's birthday present, which also meant Obi-2 got to "move up")
• 1 trip to the bike shop to fix my brakes
• 1 major grocery run, with a full, heavy trailer of groceries and impatient kids afterward
• 1 rainstorm

The real test continues.  I have "budgeted" for some major accumulated driving in the coming days, and if I do all of it, we only have about 23 miles of unaccounted-for time on the van this month.  It doesn't look like the weather will cooperate, and we may have soggy leaves instead of the pleasant crunch we've enjoyed.  It's starting to get colder, and the daylight time is shrinking.  Yesterday, as we left the school building on bikes, it began to rain.  By the time we got home, we were all pretty wet, and this morning, it was pouring.  I asked the boys if they'd rather ride in the car, but they actually wanted to bike to school.  So, I prepared to haul Obi-2 & Obi-3 in the trailer while Obi-1 donned his new rain gear.  Unfortunately, he has misplaced his rain coat, so we did end up driving.  In some ways, I was honestly relieved, although it was a little odd to load into the van and back out of the driveway!   I'm pretty sure that we'll have some other chances to get soaked again soon, and hopeful we'll still meet our goal while the boys stay enthused.  I'll keep you posted.

Oh - and one more new experience.  Yesterday, while biking home from the store, towing a trailer, and baby Obi-3 happily seated behind mine, I heard a whistle aimed my way.  Yup... the type of thing you only see in movies where pretty women walk by construction sites!    That, my friends, has never happened while I was driving a minivan.  

100 mile challenge

We're trying something brave around here. For the month of September, we're going to try to drive fewer than 100 miles on the minivan. Instead of driving, we'll use our feet, bikes, transit, and carpool arrangements.

There are a few important factors to this challenge. School starts next week, and the drop-off & pick-up alone could rack up over 30 miles in the car, so hopefully we can manage to get to and from kindergarten (and 2nd grade) without help from the "tour bus." Greater challenge will be the random errands that I run, often combined with a drive to school, which will now need to be combined into a single-route loop with careful planning for cargo space. The added time to do all of our outings will be interesting to coordinate with the routine I hope to offer Obi-3, so I'm not sure how naps, feeding, and general activities will work for him. I will have to plan well, as we have several commitments that are over 15 miles round-trip, and we'll need the van for people and stuff in those outings. Then, there's our church services, which have moved locations to quite a trek from our house. I'm not sure that Obi-1 will be able to pull it off on his own bike.

Yes, I said on his own bike. The majority of our biking, to and from school, soccer, dance, and etc. will require both older boys to ride their own bike. As we rode home from our first outing yesterday morning, I realized that I didn't even know how to pedal a two-wheeler when I was 5 years-old, much less had to ride in the street safely. Obi-2 is doing great, though, and following the excellent example of his older brother in learning all the safety factors of a bike commute. Thankfully, we also live in the "bike friendliest" city, making it a little easier to ride.

One hundred miles seems like a lot, but I'm painfully aware of how much I use my van, and it's going to be a stretch to cut it down to this limit. I take encouragement from friends who have completely given up their cars, and I'm learning from their lifestyles of efficiency and limits. While none have three young children and the variety of activities we take on, they do have work, childcare, and other commitments that give me a good example. I'm hoping that their insight will help me modify not just this month, but general habits for our family transportation.

And yes, I get the irony - we drove over 4,500 miles in the month of July, and now I'm looking to go fewer than 100 in a month. That was a road trip, and this is life!

Still, I'm not overly confident that we can make this work. I'm concerned about weather cooperating. It won't take too many days like yesterday, where it rained all through our bike trip and morning meetings, to discourage us all. I'm also curious to see if we can actually get up, fed, dressed, collected, and out the door each morning in time for school, anyway. Add to that challenge the extra time for riding and locking up bikes, and we just might need an extra dose of discipline and grace around here! All things pretty much have to work really well in order for us to reach our goal, but at this early stage, we're all on board.

Anyway, cheer me on, or laugh from afar if you like. The 100-mile challenge is on.

who's your reason

It used to be a way of life, but somewhere in the past 70 years it became a day of celebration, and then a day off. Today, I ask you to join me in returning to remembrance and appreciation - for our veterans.

It's amazing to think that many of us aren't sure who to celebrate or thank today. Yet I'm pretty sure you know a veteran... maybe several. They were part of your graduating class. Many have gone to wars, and most have come home. They work beside you, worship with you, raise children with yours, and live just around the corner. They park next to you at the grocery store, hang out at your favorite coffee shop, and bring business to your workplace. They are friends on your facebook page, read your blog, and their number is on your caller ID.

They may also be perfect strangers, covered in a dark and damp blanket as you scurry in and out of errands.

They have served our country in times of peace and times of war. The work that qualifies one as "veteran" was, and often still is, their job and calling. Today, your job is to find them and thank them.

I know the veteran I honor today. My brother has recently departed for his third war effort. He is the kid who made us all laugh while growing up. He's the guy who dazzled on the soccer field, and whose smile could work his way out of most trouble. Smart and witty, talented and tenacious. DJ has always been loyal to his friends, loved his dog, and let his heart endure pain as it hung on his sleeve. While still all of this, he's also an honored and capable veteran. This time, he's off to a different location with same goals: do his job well, come home safely. He will join the thousands there, thousands who've just come home, and thousands who will go when he returns. They are willing, ready and able. They will rise above news feeds and poll numbers to serve, defend and protect freedom.

My brother's wife and children will serve with him, too, though they won't leave home. They quietly and steadfastly offer their own sacrifices. They will once again try to keep their focus on school, home, work, and family. They will also support other families who miss their veteran for the first time, and celebrate the others who come home before DJ. As a collection, military families like my brother's offer all of us a glimpse of work ethic, grace, and humility that might otherwise go unnoticed, if not for a day like today.

I know support for a veteran's work is linked inextricably with the politics of the moment. Yet many have served in order that we might live with freedom in this time. Many have sacrificed so that our sacrifices might be over paychecks and new comforts, rather than over life and freedom. They risk their life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in order to ensure these remain available to all. Perhaps for just a moment, we can all lay down our opinions over healthcare, wall street, unions, or personalities and just be thankful.

Today, I honor my brother, DJ, and his deployment during the months to come. Who is your reason to celebrate Veterans Day?

noah's wife

In the familiar story of Noah, his wife's name is never mentioned. She's just "Noah's wife." In our house, we call her "Yesah." Anyway, I've been thinking about her a lot today.

First, in case you missed the news, we got a dog this weekend. He's a lovely 5-year-old spaniel and wonderfully laid-back... a good fit for us. Oh, and yes, Wesley is a "HE" dog, so I'm even more outnumbered. Last night, Mr. Kenobi and I were day-dreaming about buying a house in the country, where our kids (and dog) could run around outside and I'd have a big vegetable garden and lots and lots of wonderful "farm" animals, like chickens, sheep and maybe a cow.

We smiled wistfully at the thoughts of a farm house... a rambling road to our place... wood-burning fires and home-canned jams... me knitting and baking whole-grain breads and planning out homeschool lessons. The boys making tree-houses and fishing in the creek. Mr. Kenobi chopping firewood and tossing hay into the barn, just like Pa Ingalls. Everyone just happy as can be.

Ahem... back to reality today.

I have two mouse traps set, one on each side of my piano. I also have a bruised finger from getting it caught in not one, not two, but three snaps of the trap. Thanks to Mr. Kenobi for talking me through the process over his cell phone, as I cursed at that stupid trap and thought about selling the house. He kindly offered to come home from work, but I really didn't want to wait (and risk that mouse going anywhere else). I will, however, definitely let him do the "man's work" of taking the (hopefully single, dead) mouse out of our house after he gets home. Please pray that it does its work.

The fact that I'm only setting traps at 11 am is a bit disconcerting, considering I thought I saw a black flash on the floor when I was nursing the baby several hours ago. I tried to look around, but figured I must have just had a weird angle from the side of my glasses and a reflection. Not sure how long this visitor has been in our home, but I'm going to try not to think about it.

Oh wait - life even gets better...

Obi-2, Wesley, and I went out the front door (Obi-3 is sleeping upstairs) to play a bit in front of our house. Turns out Wesley is definitely a cat-chaser, and Bill (the spunky cat next door, in a house approximately 25 feet from ours) is not excited about the new neighbor. Perhaps I can plant daisies in my garden instead of forks next year? Wesley practically tore my shoulder out, so we went back inside.

As I turned on the front hall light switch, I saw a swarm (yes, swarm) of ants crawling all over the front wall (inside) of our house. One is even inside a picture frame. How does this happen!?!? They are covering the soccer ball, the shoes, the bench. It's disgusting. I sprayed down and cleaned everything with tea-tree oil cleaner and baking soda, which is supposedly toxic to ants. All of this while trying to keep silent so as not to spook the mouse out from the piano, and keep Obi-2 from opening the door (thus letting more ants in, and Wesley out to find Bill). I scrubbed the front hall walls, then the floors, and I'm still not confident that this is over.

I'm not sure I can stay in my own home today, even though it's pouring and forecasted to keep raining all week. If one more animal invades my space, I may turn in MY resignation. :-)

o mama where art thou

So, it seems I have fallen away from updating this little spot of internet. Guilt could overrun me, but there is so much going on that I can hardly take the time to feel guilty. Here's a sampling of what has kept me from blogging lately...

Gardening.

We officially have a garden this year, and it's actually producing veggies! Our lot is quite shady, with many trees. As nice as that is to hide out from the heat, it has made growing sun-loving veggies nearly impossible. In years past, I planted tomatoes in pots, hoping to keep them in the sunshine to ripen. I ended up hauling them around to different spots in the morning and afternoon, finally moving them to my neighbors' yard! This year, in a final attempt to grow my favorites, I talked Mr. Kenobi into a planter box in the one consistently sunny area of backyard. Then, we talked our neighbor into letting us trim her maple tree back so that more morning sun could get to our spot. Last week, I hauled several tomatoes over to her in appreciation!

We have lots of tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, cucumbers, peas, pole beans, and a large herb garden, and harvest season has begun!

Projects.

When my parents came out to meet Obi-3 and visit us, my dad (Papa) helped Mr. Kenobi reconfigure our deck and build new stairs. Mr. Kenobi then stripped the whole thing, and we've nearly finished staining it. Before, the deck was basically a large pass-through to the yard, and I couldn't see the kids if I was inside. Now, our deck has become an elevated part of our small landscape, and flows right out the backyard for fun times I can oversee while making dinner!

Dad also taught me to spray paint while he was here, and I'm just a bit more crafty now! At only a month into his little life, Obi-3 slept for over an 8-hour stretch. It was the first time since early pregnancy that I'd had such a nice night sleep! I woke up so energized that I pulled out two sets of chairs we'd stopped using, setup a little shop in the backyard, and began painting. Now I have "new" chairs, and we're in process of finishing the wooden seats for the white ones so that set will sit on our "new" deck.

Running Around.

With capital letters, no less. I signed the boys up for swimming lessons, which are every day around noon. It is a lot of running, but they're loving it and I'm happy to see them really learning to swim. In one summer, they've gone from reluctant to get their faces splashed to full-on crawl strokes and easy floating. Meanwhile, I sit by the side of the pool with baby Obi, and chat with other parents I would never have met otherwise.

In addition, to go with that fresh produce from our yard, we've done lots of fruit picking at local farms. Strawberries, blueberries, a few raspberries, and even peaches - and the jams, frozen fruit, and pies to go with them! Picking is all within a few miles of home, and yet so rural you can really feel like you've traveled far.

Receiving.

This is the hardest part, quite frankly. Nearly all of my summer has been filled with receiving grace, help, meals, and love from others. Why is that so hard?!? We had meals delivered for nearly a month after Obi-3 was born. We have had parties planned and hosted to celebrate our family. We've had, (as mentioned), neighbors and family help us create backyard space to enjoy together. Friends have taken the noisy older boys (another post entirely) so that I could relax, take a nap, or return to staff meetings.

Reflecting.

Honestly, it's overwhelming to receive such help. At times, I just want to be self-sufficient. I want to be able to do everything myself. To have it "together," whatever that looks like. To make fantastic homemade meals with fresh produce, and sit on freshly redone furniture in a sparkling house, and have everyone smiling after every day. I'd like to do it all, do it well, and do it all myself. It seems I'm not much better than a toddler when I think about it that way!

Truth is, I don't have it together. There are mornings that getting everyone - including myself - breakfast is a major accomplishment. There are moments when I am filled with frustration at young behavior, and have to remind myself that my children need a lot of help and grace, too. There are days when I sit down and cry because it's harder than I thought it would be to be a mama of three. There are evenings when I reflect on something from the day and think, "I should really blog this."

Some things can only be done by me, like feeding Baby Obi, blogging, or sleeping. So I think, "blog, or sleep?" And the answer to that - well, you can tell from the post lists around here... Thanks for understanding.

Love,

MamaToo

benefits of socialization

One of the most frequent benefits I hear about sending my children off to this program or that experience is "socialization."  Loosely defined, this is the knowledge of proper social interaction, appropriate friendship-building skills, empathy, appreciation of diversity, and ability to work together with others.  You know - the kinds of things you wish your coworkers had learned as children...

Anyway, I don't argue with the idea that it's good for my children (and everyone) to gain an appreciation for others, an ability to adapt, and an understanding that the world really doesn't revolve around them.  I'm not always sure these values are best taught in a classroom or on a field, but there are good also other good reasons to get out and get involved with others.

So, Obi-1 is at a local public school, enjoying a "pre-K" program immensely.  As far as we can tell, he's been learning all sorts of wonderful new things... Always a social bug, I've seen socialization work in ways I never considered.  Who would have thought I was depriving my child of important social skills (some of the same ones, in fact, which my own parents somehow kept from me!) - like every character's name & description from all six episodes of Star Wars (useful, I suppose, if he ever starts reading this blog?!), or fun facts about Pokemon cards, and words that he didn't know, but has seen by example that they are inappropriate (like "stupid" and "hate").  

What's more, his socialization has given him a new appreciation for diversity... in food.  He gets to try snacks that are from other cultures.  Some of these foods, he likes.  Other times, he prefers our options (case in point here).  

However, I was a bit unprepared to hear the that he no longer liked popcorn.  In readying for a recent "family movie night" in the Kenobi household, we thought the boys would be excited for fresh-popped corn.  Then the request came:

"I want cheese on it," announced Obi-1.

"What?  Cheese on it?  Hmmm..." I tried to figure out how we could grate a little parmesan or something to accommodate his request, only to be cut off with his specifics...

"Not that cheese.  I want orange popcorn.  Like we have at school."

Orange popcorn?  As in, orange-colored puffs of whatever-it-may-be.  As in, my son no longer likes real popcorn nearly as much as the manufactured stuff.  We, by design, don't have that around the Kenobi household.  Many of you have (privately perhaps, but often right in my living room) chided me about the values on nutrition around here.   When thinking about my children's need to appreciate diversity, I hadn't realized that this, too, is a benefit of exposure to other cultures & group dynamics.

Left out of a proper socialization opportunity like pre-K, he may never have tasted that orange popcorn.  It might not be the only benefit, but you have to admit that his life would be a little less-than-full without orange popcorn.

Okay... off with my sarcasm, now.  Just thought you might enjoy a laugh at me once in a while.

mamathree

The name won't change, but the household will.  The Kenobi's are having a baby this summer... and while our "real life" friends (hopefully) already know this, other readers may not have heard the news.

We are waiting until we meet Baby Fig (the current nickname) to find out if we'll have a daughter/sister or son/brother.  So, for those of you who are itching to send us pink or blue items, well... hold onto it a while longer.  I'm not one to decorate a nursery or stock up on a brand-new layette, anyway

I'll admit, not knowing our baby's gender before he or she arrives does raise some interesting challenges.  For instance, we've now used two of our favorite boy names.  The list of potential names seems a bit shorter and more difficult this time around.   Plus, more people seem to have imput this time.  Obi-2 wants to name a baby "Goliath."  Mr. Kenobi likes "Obadiah."  I share this because neither will make the short list!   For fun with current events and biblical trivia, we've told some of our more "red state" friends that we're looking at Judges 4 for names.

Anyway, we won't call our children "Obi" in real life around here.  It is a good bet, however, that Baby Fig will be featured here as "Obi-3," thus continuing on our long and odd tradition on this blog.  If you're wondering why in the world we ever started this tradition, enjoy a little review...

Here's to growth!

-MamaToo

  

elfing around

Update: unfortunately, the elves posting is now unavailable online.  Time to get back to those new year dreams!

-- mamatoo

I always get a giggle from these "elf yourself" creations, as do the boys.  This year jibjab has lots of different dances for the little elves in our lives.  Enjoy...

Another one included sista' K, our dear friend (I like to think of her as my "little sister").  She goes to college nearby, and sometimes even brings her friends when she hangs out with us here.  Sista' K also generously gives us the occasional free babysitting and tries to keeps us in touch with our youth - ha ha!  So, it's fitting that she'd elf around with us - disco style.

o christmas tree

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,

How hungry are your branches!

Yes, how hungry are your branches.  Thus begins a wonderful season in our life - where children make up words to holiday songs, and we all sing them together.  Obi-2 was singing this with gusto the other day, and Obi-1 chimed in, and they cannot be convinced that the lyrics are about anything but a hungry tree.  You will probably have this version stuck in your head every time you drive past a tree lot or see your lights sparkle on your home's hungry evergreen branches.

The thing is, our tree is technically not hungry... because it's fake.  This, all by itself, requires much discussion in our home.  As "fake" means "pretend," and clearly it's not a "pretend" tree, because it's standing right there!  I tried explaining that it's "pretend" in that it's not "real" or "live," but was quickly asked why a cut tree is considered "live," as it's really not connected to its roots, anymore.

So, our Christmas tree is pretending to be hungry.  Which reminds me - there is actually a lot of hunger this time of year, in spite of the fact that many of us gain cookie pounds and temporarily satisfy our appetites for stuff.  Consider pulling out a little of your holiday budget, and give to somebody who doesn't know you & may not recognize your gift.   Isn't that the idea of Christmas - a gift, undeserved, to those who did not know the Giver?  Better yet, don't just do it this month - pull a little aside throughout the next year, and find a way to be a gift to the hungry.

Then sing with us in joy & gladness: 

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,

How hungry are your branches!

honor

I hope you had a chance to thank a veteran today.  They often don't ask for thanks.  Sometimes they shy from the attention you offer.  Yet, thank them anyway.  Veterans have demonstrated service to us, our country, and often our world.  They do this with little pay, slight recognition, and even less time with the people and places they love.  They do what they do, often to leave their service with more scars than joys.  

My brother is a veteran.  In my selfishness, I sometimes wish he wasn't.  I sometimes wish he didn't have a calling that takes him into harm, away from those who love him.  I sometimes wish it was easier to understand his work, or support his deployments, or agree with his leaders.  Being a veteran has cost him holidays and birthdays away from his young daughter.  It has stressed his marriage with long-distance phone calls and parenting from afar.  It has sent him into months of loneliness, and moved him far from his home.  

His work has offered opportunities to earn respect and insight from some of the world's best people.  Being a veteran has given him much work, much pride, and many skills.  It has shown him the mixed reaction of citizens who prefers sound-bites and statistics over understanding the complexities of his work.  It has made him a simple and convenient image for those who want to elevate their political ideas.  It has also helped him understand the richness of his own ideas and beliefs.

If you don't have a brother, or relative, or friend who's a veteran, I'm sorry.  You may have to look to a stranger to say thanks.  They are walking & working among you.   They are also hidden.  Look in a soup kitchen, shelter, or hospital to find many who deserve your honor.  

Thank you, bro, for your service and commitment to a calling I don't always understand & sometimes don't want to support.  Thank you, veterans, for the honor you've shown us all.

beachy

I simply can't seem to keep up with what I want to write and publish.   That is, at least so long as I'm doing what I want to do!  We just got back from an amazing trip to the coast, complete with a relaxing stay in a beach house, sprawling sand castles, and much wave chasing.  I'd write more about it, but there are parks to visit and bikes to ride and pre-kindergarten preparations to enjoy right now.  

So, here are a few photos to keep you company...

Yes, the water is cold.  Yes, the weather (this day) was cloudy and cool.  That doesn't matter if you're chasing waves!

Sing with me - "Let's go fly a kite..."

Fortunately, we're a family with engineers, hard workers and folks who like to think they know everything, so castle-making offered a role for everyone.  Note MamaToo's freshly pedicured toes in the "project management" position...

It is simply not a vacation without s'mores.  Beautiful sunset from the deck is optional, of course, but much appreciated.

It's a little overwhelming - the power, depth, and vastness of the ocean, and the oh-I-wish-I-could-freeze-this-moment-forever feeling of watching my boys explore.  

There was some debate about east coast vs. west coast.  I say I'd rather have sunsets like this every day.  Mom & Dad think sunrises are beautiful to start the day.   I countered: you have to wake up to see the sun rise.  Ah, yes.

day 6

"Love the Lord your God all your soul and with all your strength. 

These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. 

Impress them on your children. 

Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, 

when you lie down and when you get up."

(thoughts on family values... Deuteronomy 6:5-7)

Decisions.  

I make many each day without much long-term consequence.  Like whether it's better to put the peanut butter knife into the jelly, or vice versa, or just use two knives.  Let's face it, the sandwich-making decision does not change the outcome of our lives.  

Other decisions, however, seem to carry more weight.  Natural, or hydrogenated peanut butter?  Fresh fruit, or fruit snacks?  If you've read many of my food posts, you know I have opinions.  Some have gone as far as giving me nicknames or rolling their eyes.  I admit it - we have values we'd like to instill in our children.  So, the little choices start to add up and show patterns.  If I want my boys to know and follow my beliefs about nutrition, I needn't lecture on health habits.  What will they see as true in my life?  Each small decision can either reinforce or contradict what I say I believe.

The decisions can seem daunting if we put too much stock in their influence.  In writing to share this trip with you, I've been pressed to edit and cram things into short descriptions.  What results is only a tiny glimpse of the week.  Oh, how I long to share the details of the days, describe sweet exchanges, or recount many conversations that changed me!  Yet this blog is only capable of little tales, and my words are so often inadequate.  I've had to choose carefully, hoping that the things I publish will paint a scaled-down version of the larger picture.   

And so we come to this day in Mexico.  Our final day of working with the families in this village is upon us, and I'm thinking about the decision we've made to come here.  Was it a big choice?  So many people - loved ones at home and strangers here - have looked at our choice to bring a family into this work with disbelief or intrigue.  The time, the money, the travel... going where we don't know anyone... where we don't know the language well... when we have no experience, or formal training to offer...  I suppose it seemed like a very large decision, indeed.

It was, and is, a big deal.  But we also realized that this is a small piece of a larger picture.  When we say we believe each person - our children included - is uniquely and lovingly made for God's purposes and glory, then we must act accordingly.  How do we know our own strengths and weaknesses?  How do we show attention to the unique bent of each child, seeking ways to build his character?  What will we do to point him to his creator?  When given the opportunity, we must rise and stretch as a family, living out opportunities God presents with active faith.  

When these choices are consistent, a message will be clear.  There is a God, and we know him.  He is good, and mighty, and purposeful.  He has offered an immeasurable gift of life in Christ, and this life extends beyond the days we number in this world.  He is creative and in motion, and we are invited to join his work in this world.  Often this work is within the rooms of our home, or sidewalks of our neighborhood.   Sometimes it moves us with love and action in our schools, city, and country.  Once in a while - however rare - an invitation extends to take us into other countries and cultures.  

Every parent chooses his or her values.  We value traveling the world, wanting to raise children who see and appreciate the different lives on this planet.  We value hard work, wanting to raise children who will use their gifts to be a blessing, not a drain.  We value sincerity, wanting to raise children who do what they say.  We value faith, wanting to raise children to understand they are not the center of the universe - but they can know the One who is.  Without action, however, these things remain nice words written or spoken without consequence.  It is those small and slightly larger decisions, made with consistency over time, that will prove what we really believe.

Whether it was playing in the heat of the plaza with dozens of children, or sitting in the shade of a dirt courtyard, or trading life stories with new friends, our boys were with us throughout this trip.  Today I watched Obi-1 explain the gospel story to a group that included his brother and several new amigos.  It was unexpected, and I caught my breath.  It's not about regurgitating what he's been told - today I got to overhear what he believes.  For a moment, I simply found joy in a mother's answered prayer.  My children are starting to understand that they have a gift and purpose for their life, and they are acting on this belief. 

Tonight, we joined new friends and prayed a blessing on a family, household, and village.  We shared hopes that people would come and join them this evening.  The results of tonight's attendance will either encourage or squelch this family's dream to build a church in their town.  We have seen people declare a new and renewed faith this week.  We have heard voices say they believe something eternally important.  Like our children's eyes for us and ours for them, we'll look for actions that reinforce those words.

They came.  Tonight, twenty (four times the amount we had asked for and hoped for!) came to hear, read, and discuss a passage from the bible.  Household after household gathered in that courtyard together.  Children gathered around the steps and built new friendships.  Neighbors and friends helped take care of guests, holding babies and greeting each person who climbed that rocky hill in step with their faith.  Translators and team members stood at the outside, offering seating and fellowship space to those who would meet long after we return to our comfy beds and American homes.  

     

So, a decision was made to bring families into this work.  Were we building something?  What did we do with the kids while we worked?  Why were we here?

It's as simple as peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, I suppose.  Somebody was hungry.  Somebody had ideas for a meal.  We believe in providing nourishment to those around us, so we spent a week of a summer vacation in this work.  As we return home, we'll hope and wait for another opportunity to rise up and challenge us to make a decision.

Thank you, as you've supported us and come along in the journey. 

Much love,

MamaToo

day 5

"For everyone who asks receives; 

he who seeks finds; 

and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."

(promise of Jesus, Luke 11:10)

 

Today will end with a bible study at our host's home.  Any bible - regardless of denomination or language - will be useful, as they will take a brief walk through a few scripture passages and discuss it together.  It is a simple, non-threatening introduction to faith, and the hosts will welcome whomever joins them with grace and hospitality.   

While our efforts cover an entire village, our host ministry has a very specific goal: five households at the final bible study meeting.  Ours is not a mission of great revival or conversion; this is not a crusade to make hundreds of people believe like we do.  It is simply the building of a church - a body of people, believing and following Christ - and we are glad helpers to those who have a long-term investment in this place.  A commitment of five households will give our host ministry a "green light," so to speak, to invest time and resources in this community with weekly bible study meetings. With five or more committed and growing in discipleship, they will move forward in planting a church here.

This number seems so easy, but we also recognize the commitment it will take for somebody to come to their neighbors' house for a bible study.  This is not a culture that readily meets together.  The idea of studying the bible, not just displaying it in a corner, surprises and challenges many people we've met.  In order for women or teenagers to attend a meeting, their husbands or fathers will have to approve or join them.  Anyone who comes to a bible study will likely face judgement or skepticism from friends who resist change.  So, we know the goal is set with a solemn heart and faithful prayers.

We spent the day visiting with people in the neighborhood, playing another heated futball match, and presenting a simple but moving drama in the plaza.  Kids, adults, friends, and new faces have been greeting us all day, asking us our story, listening to our hearts, and sharing their lives with us.  Many people have made decisions to welcome Christ's offer of grace and forgiveness and accept His call to discipleship.  It is like seeing fishermen leave their nets - simple, yet profound.  I've never been around this sort of movement, so it is incredible to witness.

While walking over to Angel & Ed's home today, we met a man and his young son outside a store.  The boy is Obi-2's age, which creates an easy conversation for us.  We've met them before, but today we had a chance to visit a bit more.  Mr. Conche has been watching our group, and particularly our family.  He eyes Mr. Kenobi and earnestly asks questions. 

Why would you spend money to come and work here?

You could have gone to a resort.  Why would you plan a vacation like this?

I hear it's about God, but how could religion bring a family with little kids to this place?

Religion.  Yes, it's unlikely that religion would cause us to do this.  If religion is people's effort to get close to the divine, achieve goodness, and find eternal happiness, then this culture (and ours) is rich with religion.  In spite of its simplicity and poverty, these neighborhoods are filled with beautiful art, tributes, and traditions of the religious.  Religion fills the community calendar and creates reason for celebrations.  I'm reminded of the story of Paul's visit to Athens.  Like him, we have not come to introduce our religion.

Religion is fully fueled by the believer.  It is always an expenditure - an effort of people, from their own strength, to give something to another.  No matter who or what the god, religion will only present a new set of rules and behaviors, hoping to bring about change by our own sheer will and discipline.   Religion cannot feed or sustain us.  We might feel better about ourselves, but even that is fleeting.  We might think we can understand, but religion will always leave us striving for more information.   Most of all, religion is only as good as the religious person, and so it often fails and disappoints.  Mr. Conche knows this, so our presence is puzzling.

No, religion would not bring us to this place, especially with our children beside us.  We have no religion to offer - we simply have a relationship that has filled us and overflows.  What we have to offer is not ourselves or our habits.  God has already offered the only way to Himself.  How unbelievable, yet beautiful, for Him to turn religion on its head!  It is not religion, but relationship that has moved us, and this is the story we tell.

Mr. Kenobi continued this conversation with Mr. Conche after the boys and I left for lunch.  When my husband joined us later, he truly glowed from joy.  It seems that throughout their conversation, customers would come in for lunchtime purchases.  Mr. Kenobi and his translator would step back to give Mr. Conche time to do business.  Every time this happened, however, Mr. Conche would waive the customer over to another tienda or a family member, insisting that he wanted to hear more of this gospel story from Mr. Kenobi.  By the end of their time together, Mr. Conche was stepping into a new faith - a relationship built on God's efforts, not his own - and he was eager to join us in study this evening.

And so, this evening a new member of God' family - a man, husband, and father of four boys - joined us.  Mr. Kenobi sat with this new friend and brother, sharing a joy that needed no translator.   

There is much work to do tomorrow.  While we have grateful hearts for the four households who gathered together tonight, several people who indicated they wanted to join us were not there.  Our hosts & ministry leaders seem encouraged, however, and gracious to the Americans who were counting and analyzing.  They explained that many people would rather say they'll come, yet not show up, than refuse an invitation.  This is yet another cultural nuance for us to digest.  Our hosts also remind us of a more solemn problem: there is opposition to change.  Whenever God is at work, there will be challenges to those who are with Him.  This is true, whether in our lighthearted games or genuine conversations.

Tomorrow we will spend our time building the relationships we've begun.  It will be our last day in this place, and we will have another bible study meeting in the evening.   We will continue investing in the new disciples we've found this week, and we pray to see the vision of a small group, growing in relationship with Himself and each other.

day 4

"The city streets will be filled with boys and girls playing there."

(A promise and description of God's blessing - Zechariah 8:5)

Have I mentioned the children here?  They are beautiful.  They are so full of life, and evidently quite trustworthy.  At least, their parents must think so, as they have very little supervision after school hours.  Within moments of suggesting it, we easily gather a large, enthusiastic crowd for games in the plaza.

Yesterday, we invited kids of any age to join a simple program.  I was struck by a few things that contrast with our lives.  First, children have plenty of time to play, but very little stuff to play with.  My boys, like local kids, have easily adjusted to using rocks and sticks instead of the plastic gizmos that trip me at home.  They're also learning soccer - excuse me, futball - from their Mexican peers, and sharing the joys of chasing a ball around a concrete or gravel field.  So, unlike US kids' programs, which are frought with elaborate props & prizes, this afternoon was very simple.  When our team brought out an inner tube and divided the group into teams for tug-of-war, they were elated. 

The other thing that is quickly apparent is that women - even young teens - have very little time or opportunity for play.  Whenever we organize games, we have to personally invite the girls to participate, and then encourage them to join us.  Once in the game, they are delighted and intensely competitive (much like their US counterparts!).  Mothers, fathers, and curious neighbors watch from the shade as our team instructed the kids in the games.  Within minutes, everyone was laughing and relaxing - poking fun at one or cheering their favorites.  It seems, at least from this observation, that few people ever invest this sort of time in simple fun.

I'm faced with more questions today.  Women, especially, are very curious about me and my children.  What do we do at home?  What do I tell Obi-1 & Obi-2 about the world?  Why would I bring them here - to play with these children?  What could this village possibly offer my family?

The children, too, are full of questions and generosity.  They capture my heart and imagination, and I am reminded that my message knows no boundaries of age or ability.  I'm also learning treasures about this culture: after admiring a boy's necklace, he removed it and offered it to me.  Of course, I insisted I could never take it from him.  It was too special.  I truly had nothing of any value to offer him as a token of trade.  With no addresses or family name, I would have no way to return the favor later.  Certainly I couldn't take something so important from this innocent person!

Instead of the expected relief, I immediately saw a pained look of rejection, hurt, and confusion cover his face.  My translator jumped in to say that the boy truly wanted me to have this gift.  To reject the gift would be to reject the giver.  It is not an offer for trade - it is a free gift.  I can simply receive it with sincere gratitude.

I've had several more chances to share and discuss the most important topics today.   I am so grateful for this moment in time.  It is one thing to tell Obi-1 and Obi-2 that God loves people who live outside of our home or preschool group of friends.  It is simple to tell them that we have received a gift worth sharing with others.  It is quite another to show them - indeed, introduce them personally - to a world of people who are loved by the same Creator.

day 3

"This gospel of the kingdom 

shall be preached in the whole world 

as a testimony to all the nations..." 

(Jesus' promise, Matthew 24:14)

Why are we here?   

This is the question we must answer.  Certainly for ourselves, but also many times over for those we meet here.  Today our team spread out over the various areas of the village.  In a small, simple place like this, the best way to share a wide-reaching invitation is to personally visit neighbors.  Such is the way of communication here, and so we went out, family by family, with an interpreter.  Our hope was for easy introductions, an opportunity to share the reason of our visit, and chances to invite people into relationships.

Our hostess tells us that she doesn't know the neighbors very well.  She has friends in this place, to be sure, but women must work very hard at home - no dishwashers, washing machines, or other modern conveniences here.  Their time is often filled with work and family needs, so they simply wave or nod to neighbors without really getting to know them.  Men, too, are very hard working - often traveling by bus for jobs.  So, today we helped our hosts' neighbors get introduced to one another, and invited people to investigate this idea of a new church in their community.

I must admit, the day had me nervous.  Yesterday, I comfortably held a crowd while making small talk.  However, the idea of knocking on doors to help bridge a gap between neighbors carries weight.  Knowing that I will have to rely on our interpreter to do this work had my stomach in knots.  Considering my own reaction to door-to-door salespeople or political activists back home, I wondered how many folks would hide behind their tall front gates.

Our interpreter knows the culture and local community, however, and he said this is a good way to bring people together.  One of our hostess' friends also joined us in case we met some of their friends.  House by house, we were greeted with curiosity, skepticism, and sometimes outright gratitude.  Through an interpreter, we explained there would be a kids program in the plaza today, another futball game tomorrow, and other activities in the week.  When possible, we also shared that we're here to help our host family invite neighbors to their home for a bible study.  With photos of home and children beside us, introductions were quick.  We asked about their lives, their interests, and even their beliefs.  We talked about our own faith, and the faith of their neighbors who would like to host a bible study in their home.  

Sometimes, we're asked questions.  Other times, we do the asking.  The most pressing question, naturally, has to do with why a family from the US would venture into this village for work, rather than vacationing as a tourist.

Throughout the morning, I was reminded of Peter or Paul, who simply and frequently shared the gospel as they travelled.  Cocooned by the open society of the US, I often think everyone has heard this story.  So, it surprises me when we hear questions and interest to hear our faith - over and over.  When neighbors learn that our hosts will have a bible study later this week, they are curious - as if they never considered reading that or discussing its meaning.  People are especially eager to have skepticism, questions, and honesty allowed into discussions about faith.  Today reminded me that many have not heard, many do not know, yet all need to hear this story for themselves.

One of the most poignant moments overwhelmed me.  While Mr. Kenobi chatted with some young men in a doorway, our hostess' friend walked down the street to see a woman she knew.  Frankly, I was paying more attention to handing out fruit snacks to my boys than anything else.  I was a little startled to stand up and see three women in front of me.  In broken Spanish, I tried to introduce myself, but I couldn't understand what they were asking.  I greeted them politely, and looked around for our interpreter, who jumped to my aid.

"These women are asking what you believe. They heard we were here, so they came down the street to ask. They want to know why you're here, and what that has to do with God."

Can you explain what you believe?  

Do you know why you are here?  

Can you tell a stranger about the faith that brought you and your family to this place?  

When given a brief moment in history, can you explain these important things?

I always hoped I could, but that moment challenged me like no other.  It also changed at least two lives.  In the sun of an early afternoon, I gained a sister.  Not by birth or language, but through a holy adoption - a gracious, eternal gift.  Angel, a beautiful 28-year old mother of a kindergartner, received faith that none of us can ask for, demand, or earn.  I don't know what she had heard or considered before that moment, but I am eternally grateful to have seen her eyes open and her heart melt in the hands of God.  

As our conversation continued, I shared some of the things God promises.  Faithfulness... Goodness... Justice... Provision...  We are both mothers, so I vulnerably told her about God's promises to generations of those who follow him.  These promises have been gifts to my parents, then to me, and I hope my children will be blessed by the faith of their parents.  I also assured her that I was not infallible, but that I study and learn what God has to say about Himself, the world, and us.  In fact, I frequently get together with others who believe Him and want to understand the bible.  In these times, I am challenged and encouraged to grow.  

I invited her to join us the next day for a simple bible study.  This is not a new religion or way to earn favor before God.  It is simply an invitation to know scripture for herself - not rely on me or others for truth.  She nodded excitedly, and we parted with smiling cries of "hasta lluego" (see you later) - as I returned to Mr. Kenobi.

I felt like I was in a beautiful dream, but it would only get better.  Apparently, while Angel and I talked and prayed together, Mr. Kenobi had a similar experience with a young man named Ed.  As we visited on the way back, we marveled at the miracle we'd just witnessed in two people.  Then, our hostess explained another, beautiful piece of the day's tapestry: Angel is Ed's sister.  

Why are you here?