Rox and Roll

Christmas by Night

As I tucked in my children tonight, I read to them from the book of Matthew, reminding us all of the birth story that begat today's celebrations.  Though it is the story of the joyous birth of our Christ, it holds in it some rather dark elements.  King Herod sends his wisest men to locate this newborn baby, whom he perceives to be a threat to his authority; Herod intends to kill Jesus, but the wise men -- wise to his plan -- do not assist him and, likely putting their own lives in jeopardy, never report back.  Joseph, Mary, and Jesus flee to Egypt, returning to Israel only after Herod's death, remaining in fear of the son who ruled after him.  In some ways, the New Testament could read like a mystery novel, one in which forces against Jesus try and try again to bring him down.  (Of course, they eventually succeed -- but we do not need to go there, as Easter is months away.)

What parallels this story has to life right now, whether my own personal story or that of the goings-on in the world.  When I read this piece by Max Lucado -- one of my favorite kids' authors for his fables with a strong moral message -- my heart grew at once heavy and hopeful.  Lucado writes, "Oh, Lord Jesus, you entered the dark world of your day.  Won't you enter ours?  We are weary of bloodshed.  We, like the wise men, are looking for a star.  We, like the shepherds, are kneeling at a manger.  This Christmas, we ask you, heal us, help us, be born anew in us." 

In a world where violence is ever present, where children are being taken in what ought to be sacred and safe space, how profound is that message: we are looking for a star.  We seek a light.  We search for a way out of the darkness in which we could drown if we closed our eyes and let it consume us.  We hope for a better world.

I found the light this holiday season -- or, rather, it found me.  It came to the sound of a gentle knock as a friend placed poinsettias, a wreath, and doormat on my stoop -- alongside a delicious dinner.  It continued with another friend with whom I shared one of the best child-free meals out and deepest conversations I have had in a long time.  It kept going as holiday card after holiday card arrived addressed to me in my own "original" name, some with the kindest letters and notes of support I could have ever imagined.  It grew with the arrival of my "big sister" from Sweden, a former exchange student whom I adore who traversed halfway across the globe to be with us for just a couple of days.  It blossomed in the Christmas pageant, where my heart beamed as my angel Gabriel (Petunia) and my little shepard (Dash) delivered their lines with such joy.  And it kept on rolling right through this Christmas day, when my greatest gift came in the form of a visit from a dear college friend and his lovely family; nothing can make a home glow quite like a two year-old and a six year-old, alongside my own twelve and seven year-olds, with an unlimited cookie supply!

Plus, of course, there were the lights -- literally.  I stepped out of my front door one afternoon to find myself surrounded by them, from my handrails to my doorway to the gables of my roof.  A friend had sent a light-hanger to be-Christmas my house.  I think the only tears I shed this season were while watching my kids' eyes as they saw them light up for the first time.  Awestruck does not even cover it!  It was as if I got to watch them getting infused with the Christmas spirit -- a special and magical event that I could never replicate if I tried.

Most importantly -- most impressively, perhaps -- aside from those few tears of joy, I spent this holiday season waiting for tears that never came, waiting for ache that I never felt, waiting for the hurt that I anticipated -- waiting, in a sense, to suffer.  What a shame that I wasted that time during a season of such joy.  What a shame, really, that I thought I should suffer at all.  It is as if I lost my own light.  It is my great fortune that others see it and shine it back at me when I am in my times of greatest need for that reminder.

It has been a dark year, likely my own darkest ever.  And yet, I sit here by a glowing fire, warmed even more by the love of family and friends, knowing that I have chosen to emerge from the darkness unbroken and whole into a world that I will continue to refuse to see as dark, and, poignantly, one in which I refuse to accept suffering as the norm.  The Zen proverb says "Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional."  I choose to be strong.  I choose to remember my inner light that comes from being secure with who I am and with what I need, and especially with how I act and interact in the world. 

Max Lucado is right, Jesus was born in darkness -- and yet, a Star lit the path of all who sought Him.  My Christmas prayer this year, for myself and for all who have struggled of late to make sense of the world, is that when we are lost, we find the light -- whether it is the Light of God or the light within ourselves that reminds us of why we are here: to love each other and to be of good use to one another.  And I give extra thanks this year for the friends who shone that light on me when I refused to find it myself.  A new year lies ahead, and I am excited to begin anew.

Thankful in ways I never imagined

A year ago, our family of four celebrated our last Thanksgiving as a together family.  I remember it so vividly.  With no extended family in town, we decided to splurge on the local Four Seasons, enjoying most especially a dessert buffet that filled an entire room.  We never took the kids to places like that, and the impression lasted.  Huge smiles, thanks shared, especially for one another... It was one of the happiest holidays I'd experienced with our family.  Yet it was a mere three days later that life as I knew it changed forever.  Especially post-9-11, I should have known that life could change in an instant, but, in my naivete, I never thought it would happen to me -- not to this happy family, captured in an iPhone snapshot, standing by the chocolate fountain with smiles exuding love and gratitude.

Approaching Thanksgiving this year, my emotions are high, knowing that I want to make it an extra-special day for Petunia and Dash, who wanted to return to the Four Seasons; but I knew such a thing would exceed my emotional capacity.  Then, blessedly, the invitations started pouring in.  A friend who has become like a bonus sister is hosting her first-ever Thanksgiving at her home, in honor of her late mother who always hosted the big day.  "We're bringing together those we love and hold dear," she wrote. "Join us."  I accepted, offering to bring a tray of let's-pretend-it's-traditional mac-n-cheese -- the only Thanksgiving food that I'm sure Dash will eat -- and a pumpkin custard, and some special surprise appetizer that I hope to have figured out by the time this post is published.

Context is everything, really.  Spending Thanksgiving with a friend who's experienced multiple losses in the past couple of years seems appropriate.  I know I am not alone in my pain, just as I know we will all share in the joy that a houseful of kids and friends and family always breeds.  Somehow, we'll get through the day with what I'm sure will be loads of laughs, and then, somehow, we'll get through Christmas, and next year, and the year after that.  I know that.  It's just hard to forget that our reality has changed when I still have the picture in my head of something completely different.  New pictures will be taken, new memories will be forged, and someday, it'll get easier.  But this Thanksgiving, I'm not going to pretend like everything is swell.  It's weird, and it hurts, and it's all wrong, and God, it's not even Christmas -- and yet, it's my new normal.

What I can do that's positive is to focus deeply on my own thankfulness, and I'm thankful now in ways I never imagined.  My "sisters," they have been lifesavers in ways I cannot bring myself to write.  There are a few "brothers" in there, too, who have shown up in some pretty magnificent ways.  There's my family, especially my parents, who have taken a lot of trips West just to be here with us, to help fill the void a little and to offer some relief and some extra love.  There's my dog -- my sweet, ever-loving, furry third child -- who is just so ... herself.  So Lola.  So hysterically funny, and affectionate, and wildly entertaining.  There are friends all around the world who check in, who distract, who pray.  There are two jobs, a huge church family, food and shelter and a working fireplace ... stories to read, hot chocolate to share, snickerdoodles and giggles and so very much love.

And there are the two most important people in the world for whom I am thankful: two kids who came into this world from a place of great love and, each day, make me want to be a better person.  They are my reason for getting out of bed, for doing good work, for being my best self, for living with integrity and purpose.  They make me want to make the world a better place not for them, but with them.  They are so fundamentally good.  They are grace at work before my very eyes -- their glistening, happy, hopeful eyes in which I see a reflection of God in His heaven declaring that all is right with the world.  Even when it doesn't feel like it.  Even when the Thanksgivings I envisioned are FUBAR.  Even when I don't know when I'll say that I'm okay and really mean it.

Friends, readers, hold your loved ones a little tighter this holiday season.  I don't encourage everyone to treat every holiday like it might be the last -- but what if we did?  Would we worry less about menus and decorations and the ideal of perfection and perhaps laugh a little louder, delve a little deeper into sharing that gratitude, create some memories that'll be the stories we tell our grandkids one day?  Would we care a little less about the condition of the house and more about the condition of the people in it? 

I'm not ever going to be thankful for this blind turn my life has taken, but I sure am thankful for the belief in myself that has been borne from it.  I'm thankful that I get to live a healthy, happy, fulfilling life in spite of it all.  And yes, I'm still thankful for chocolate fountains, mountains of happy memories, and many more to come -- well, perhaps minus the chocolate fountain, though I'm pretty sure that made it onto someone's Santa list.  And that there is what I'm increasingly most thankful for: perspective.  For the kids, it's all about the sweets, whether it be chocolate or kisses, as well it should be for all of us.  Have a blessedly fulfilling Thanksgiving, all.

Because a childhood is a terrible thing to waste

This marked day three stuck inside with a sick kid, and let's face it: entertainment options for mom are limited.  I've already read an entire book, read Dash all of his books, done much of the laundry, rearranged some kitchen cabinets... you get the picture.  I don't do "cooped up" well, and I really, really don't like cleaning (and can't do it all day long anyway)...

... so Facebook to the rescue! 

Now, let me backtrack a bit.  I have been extremely annoyed with Facebook lately.  These lists of 25/26 things going around are driving me batty.  Through those lists, most of which I've read because I'm stuck in the house, I've learned some incredibly interesting things about a few friends.  I've also learned a whole lot of things that I never needed to know.  As in, if you still pick your nose and eat it, I don't want to read about it on your adult Facebook page; I have a three year-old at home, so I have enough boogers to deal with.  You have OCD?  Tell your therapist.  You have fears?  Sissy.  Go cry to your mommy; just don't freakin' tag me.  I refuse to be "it."

SO, anyway, like I was saying, I was averse to Facebook for a while, but then -- after reading every post ever written on my beloved Silicon Valley Moms Group -- I decided: hey!  I know what to do as I'm holding this barf bucket for my kid!  I can make more friends!

And I thought: who am I the most curious about?  who am I missing from my list?

That's when I realized that, short of my BF since the 2nd grade, I was missing my entire childhood.  Seriously.  Aside from my immediate family, anyone who grew up with me in my small hometown in West Virginia -- every last person (except for that one) who knew me before I was 16 and left for boarding school -- was missing from my radar screen.  That realization made me quite sad on two levels.  On the one hand, there was this small group of people that I really liked, and I wondered what happened to them.  On the other hand, I remembered how hard of a time I had growing up there -- how I was bullied mercilessly, especially for being smart, and I certainly didn't want to conjure up those bad times.  Then again, I sort of "won" in that regard; I never broke under the pressure, I still don't need a therapist for it, and I learned just how strong and resilient I am mostly because I had to deal with mean people at a young age.  (I often wonder how my kids are going to learn how to "deal" in our lily-livered modern age -- though, obviously, I'd rather they learn strength in a more positive way!) 

So I started searching, first for the high school that I attended in 10th grade (that my mother had attended before me), and one thing led to another... and there they were.

The people who sucked were not there, but all of these wonderful people -- people who were my friends, who came to my goodbye party before boarding school, who stayed in touch a few years beyond in the years before we even had e-mail -- there they were, on Facebook.  They are still amazing.  They are all over the world.  They are doing amazing things.  And best of all, they showed me that I wasn't the only one to leave my hometown to see the world.  (I often worried about that, since the college-going rate for WV is just over 10%, which is about a third of the national average.) 

First I heard back from one, a boy who suddenly looks like a man, who played trumpet with me in band and jazz band.  Then another, a boy who I remember others teasing; he has facial hair plus a graduate degree from a school that I deeply respect.  And another, a guitarist with whom I had some awesome jam sessions; he's halfway around the world running his own company, and he looks exactly the same.  A girl with whom I was in the "gifted" program is all grown up and a professor in the Southwest.  And the list, it keeps growing. 

Facebook, I still think you suck for disallowing breastfeeding pictures, and I'm still not doing my list of 25 things... But I heart you anyway, because now I can make a better list, one of people who made my childhood better -- people with whom I shared a unique experience in rural America, people who still care what I'm up to some 20 years later.  Living in WV, I always thought that my world was too small.  Now, thanks to the internet, my small world is back.  It is a warm and cozy place -- and the memories and catching up should get me through yet another day with an improving but still recovering Dash.

The weekend that'll make my week

Starting out the weekend, there was a chance it was going to be the weekend from hell.  I braced myself appropriately, apparently, since it turned out to be an absolutely fabulous few days.

Of course (WARNING: EAST COAST FRIENDS, AVERT YOUR EYES!) the weather being around 70 degrees and sunny might have had something to do with it.

Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful as I gathered the kids for a neighbor's Laser Quest birthday party.  Truly, the place was insane.  There were four birthday parties going on at once, and the arcade was in the reception hall.  It would've been easy to lose Dash, who was attached to me while Petunia played laser tag, because of the sheer overcrowding, let alone the poor layout.  Suffice it to say, it wasn't my favorite party ever -- but the kids loved it, and that's what mattered.

The laser tag and arcade party was followed by pizza, etc., though, and imagine the surprise I enjoyed when the party hosts whipped out a gluten-free, soy-cheese pizza!  To some people, this would be far from thrilling, but put yourself in my shoes: I don't remember the last time I ate a slice of pizza.  It has been over a year, maybe two, ever since my wheat allergy became severe enough that I can't even cheat and sneak a bite.  To compound things, Dash's recent diagnosis with a mild dairy allergy has complicated things.  This family eats (ate) a lot of pizza.  So when my neighbor introduced me to Amici's (the one they ordered from is in Mountain View), she greatly improved the quality of my life.  We ordered from there tonight: a soy cheese pizza for Dash, a gluten-free Margherita pizza for me, and a half-cheese, half-pepperoni "normal" large pie for Petunia and the Guv.  The downside was the $53 bill (the GF pizza was $24 of that) -- but my first taste of pizza in over a year made that priceless!  (And it was really, really GOOD too!)

After Laser Tag on Saturday, we returned home to prepare for a visit from my college friend Seamus, his lovely wife, and their two year-old daughter.  Sometimes, these type of visits are more trouble than they're worth -- the work of cooking and cleaning up compounded by constant childcare ("refereeing") can be a real drag.  But not this time!  Our Petunia stepped up to the plate without even being asked, taking over the care of her brother and our young visitor.  Plus, the Guv and I made a very low-maintenace menu of chili, quesadillas, veggie and cheese trays -- that, some wine and beer, and it was a very easy, enjoyable evening.  I don't remember the last time I had meaningful adult conversation with kids in the house.  What a special night!

And then this morning, I slept in... which was actually a problem, since I woke up at 8:35 am and was supposed to be at Dash's preschool from 9-3 for a "maintenance day."  For the uninformed, "maintenance day" is code for "wiping boogers off of toys, tables, etc." and it was totally gross.  My son loves this preschool, but it is just not my bag... too much work, too much cleaning that I don't even want to do in my own house, too much dirt... All that said, the Guv recently figured out that to take my son to the drop-off preschool, I'd have to earn about $12g to pay for it... So we stay at the right school for Dash, the wrong school for me (though I have made some great friends there, so someday I'll stop saying that). 

While I attended Booger Day, the Guv took Petunia, her two friends N and Z, and Dash on a super-long bike ride to Stanford's campus, where they launched stomp rockets, dunked in a fountain (did I mention it was 72 today?) and slurped Jamba Juice.  The Guv is exhausted, and I am hugely impressed that he took that on himself.  When I commented to him that this weekend was like one long playdate for our friend Petunia, he chuckled, "yeah -- just like our life was growing up.  This is how it's supposed to be.  Like the good old days!" 

I'm not sure that I'm up for weekends jam-packed with mutiple others' kids yet -- though breaking it up with some friends and wine sure did help!  And the Guv is right about one thing: these are the good old days, made new again through our young 'uns.  What a fun weekend.  I hope that it's just the start of a magnificent new year in our new California home.