First Day of Summer Break

And Seth sends me this article. Everything about it is good good good. And that's all I'll say.

http://forsclavigera.blogspot.com/2011/05/letter-to-young-parents.html

Dear Grace and Alex,

Congratulations! Thanks be to God for the safe arrival of what sounds like a packed little bundle of hope: my goodness, 10 lbs., 6 oz.! It must be the milk there in Wisconsin.

Well, on behalf of the rest of us exhausted, grateful, and terrified inhabitants, let me welcome you to a strange new world: parenthood. This is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and it’s worth every bit of the blood, sweat, and tears that are to come. You can’t imagine that now. I understand. Soak up every ounce of joy and elation and starry-eyed wonder at the miracle of baby Liam. I’ll be watching as the terror sets in. It’s usually when you’re headed out the hospital door and it hits you: “They’re actually letting me take this little creature home? But I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!” Yeah, get used to that.

But also remember this: in a few weeks, you’re going to bring Liam forward for baptism. In that sacramental act he is going to be tangibly marked with the sign of God’s promises. That should be a first reminder that you’re not in this alone—that Liam is being claimed by a promise-keeping Father who is even more faithful than you. There will be days and seasons when that will be an unspeakable comfort to you.

In the sacrament of baptism, not only will you claim God’s promises, you’ll be confessing that you alone are not able to raise Liam. The baptismal ceremony is, I think, a wonderful gift to parents who rightly approach their task with fear and trembling. For while you, in response to God’s promise, will make promises to God about how you will raise Liam, the congregation will also make a promise—to come alongside you, to support you and nourish you, to sustain you all within the household of God that is bigger than the three of you. So baptism is a sign that our homes are open, interdependent households, not closed, nuclear units. Baptism signals that all of us—married or single, parent or child—are part of a larger household which is the church of God, and together, that household has pledged to be one big community of godparents. When you run up against the challenges of parenting, don’t be scared to remind the church of the promise it made to you.

I hope and pray that your labour as parents can be buoyed by these promises and this sense that your tiny, growing family will flourish just to the extent that you center yourselves in the “first family,” which is the church. You will need this, believe me. One of the terrible lies of our culture—and even the rhetoric of “family values”—is the crippling myth that our homes are self-sufficient incubators for child-rearing. If you buy into that myth, you’ll isolated by a constant sense of failure. For it won’t take long to realize that you are not able to do this on your own, even though you’re an intertwined team. But if you’ve bought into the myth of the self-sufficient family, you also won’t be willing to admit that you need help. Baptism is the church’s way of signaling right from the get-go that we know you need help! We know you can’t do this on your own. So we’re not going to be surprised or disappointed or judgmental when you lean on us. We’ll be there waiting. Why not get into the habit early?

Finally, while I don’t mean to rain on the parade of your joy, I do feel compelled to share the bad news, too: Liam might break your heart. Actually, Liam is going to break your heart. Somehow. Somewhere. Maybe more than once. To become a parent is to promise you’ll love prodigals. Indeed, some days parenting is exactly how God is going to teach you to love your enemies. Because there’ll be days when a 17-year-old Liam is going to see you as the enemy, and all of a sudden you’ll realize that the Sermon on the Mount is not about war and foreign policy, nor is it just pie-in-the-sky piety: instead, you’ll hear those words anew and realize that in the command to love your enemies, Jesus is calling you to follow him as a parent, and sometimes even that task will look cruciform. It will require absorbing all Liam’s misplaced animosity, all his confused attempts to figure out who (and whose) he is. At those moments, Jesus’ call to lay down your life and take up the cross will have a mundane tangibility you could have never imagined. Some days, loving Liam is going to require you to turn the other cheek and absorb that heartbreak like a slap across the face. And it’s then that you’ll most want to remember the promises of a faithful Father that trickled down his little forehead years ago.

But those painful moments will be overshadowed by a million others. You’re going to think it’s incredible when Liam smiles, or says “Mama,” or rolls over on his tummy, but let me tell you: that won’t even compare to the afternoon when, in what feels like an out-of-body experience, you realize you’re having a conversation with this man—you might be sitting on the front porch talking about Mumford & Sons or Andy Warhol or World War II artillery, and for a moment you can hardly believe that the little bundle you brought home from the hospital has grown into this beautiful, mystifying, wonderful young man. And you realize that, in your son, God has given you one of your best friends in the whole world, and you try to suppress your smile while thinking to yourself, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It’s all worth it,

Jamie

A Year Ago

A year ago, probably to the week, I was anxiously awaiting my last final, so as to anticipate a symbolic new beginning as I crammed boxes and made countless trip from my college house rental to my fiance's house. Though we wouldn't be living together for yet another two and a half weeks, I was ready to start preparing for the move. More than anything, all these changes and moves moved me closer to that wedding date, and that was most exciting of all!
Now it is a year later, and I'm remembering that time and, for my own entertainment, doing some of the same things I did during those two weeks preceding the wedding (maybe its a bit of ocd but i like rituals). Not only am I treating myself to some highlights as I did during finals week last year, but I feel this newly awakened sense of housewife surfacing again. Not that this went away necessarily, but with school wrapping up and work piling up and lots of "this time of year" activity, the house is frankly not that pretty. It doesn't smell good, the dreaded pink ring is around the toilet bowl, papers strewn about, and if I live like this any longer I will go crazy. Written in my planner is my finals schedule with Friday, once completely open and available, now-as if it were some kind of treat- is, "CLEANING DAY--YAY!!" I really can't wait, and I'm looking for ways to begin early.
I feel like this impulse towards what I will refer to as domesticasity? is purely just a want to refocus on what it is that I really feel is valuable to me and my family's life. Sure, getting an education and studying is great too (bla bla bla bla bla-shouldn't i be studying renaissance art right now?), but I am happily responsible for taking care of things at home too. I want to be making good meals at night (we've slipped-partially in part of pregnancy laziness--to lots of boring food, taco night, pasta night, left-over night, sandwiches, repeat) and I want to clean up the kitchen afterwards. I want to learn new healthy, good things in order to practice good and necessary tools before giving birth to this little guy (who's seemingly doing flips in my tummy as I write this).
This brings me to realize how things have changed, how I have grown. Sure, I may feel like I'm slacking a bit now, but what student isn't? Seth and my forever goal is to make our home a house of production and by trying to grow our food, being conscientious about what we buy, and conscientious about how we live, I feel we are doing our part to bring up a family who hopefully, really knows the Good Life (different from the American Dream life). Last year, I tried to plan out a garden, but it's hard to do such a thing when you don't live near your plants and, well, when you start late. We planted in May last year, and had some success with growing somethings but this year, having interacted with our plot, our compost, and the weather all fall and winter, we were prepared to plant as early as mid-march. We already see the bounty of this planning--we have rows of greens and radishes and onions already!
In terms of our home, I've been decorating and rearranging all year in order to get the most out of our small space without spending, well, virtually any money. Sure, maybe a mess and eyesore to others, but I'm telling you, our house is so cozy, and I never want to leave it. The biggest luxury in our home is our 80.00 diningroom rug (wedding giftcard!)--once a crisp white and blue--now worn, faded, showing the signs of all the diners and people who have passed through. My new challenge, however, is to organize an effective guestroom in a very small room, and a wonderful nursery to welcome our highly anticipated new family member.
And like I've said before, I want to keep our house a healthy and good place for all, and that of course includes what we put in our mouths. I'm not going to say we're the best at this (I bought a freaking box of hot tamales the other day, why? absolutely no nutritional value), but I will say, I try. But all this brings me to this book I got for my birthday. It's beautiful, and though some of the recipies are "too foody" for me, others are just so wonderfully rustic and deceivingly simple. The emphasis, though, is to cook according to season and locale--a good challenge.
Unfortunately, there is a recipe for "Gratin of Bay Scallops with Jerusalem Artichoke Puree" or "Lobster Mac and Cheese" which kind of calls for a second trip to the East Coast.

(New Bedford, Mass., WHALES!)

I love May, and I love the curious reawakening of all things during this time: the flowers are out, and plants are flourishing, and I am filled with a surge of energy to make and do.

Good Friday 2011

It seems only fitting that as Easter draws near and as Holy Week ends so does my season of "fasting." Admittedly, I didn't really give up any food or fast in the normal sense but I made the discipline and practice of fasting from, well, hating my growing body. For me this looks like to get in the practices of eating often (very often) without guilt, of putting on clothes without changing a million times, of embracing and submitting to the changes that are necessary during this time; and to see them as beautiful as the crab apple blossoms all over town. As with usual Lenten practices, I have failed, many times, but I am becoming more accustomed to the higher numbers on the scales, the tightly fitting jeans, and wider looking face. To actually discipline myself to do something tangible I was challenged to set out my clothes the night before and NOT CHANGE. It's a really hard thing for me to do, and I failed a few times, just as I did on those days that "130lbs" really got me down (how do you really stop the thoughts that tell me "unmanageable, clunky, taking up too much room"?) But I also had many days where I delighted in the tummy I've got going, and if anything, laughed at how voluptuous I've become.... errrrr. And just as the trees are showing their baby leaves, and the grass is turning green, it seems only appropriate that I would see some promise of the spring to come, so as to encourage my journey in this pregnancy thing....
Yesterday we got to see our little baby. I remember thinking to myself specifically as I laid on the table, "look at that! this is why I will gain 30+lbs" I want to do this. I'll do whatever to hold you." I cannot wait for it: for motherhood, and putting aside my own vanities seems to be a huge step to properly move towards that reality. I love the kid already. AHHH. I could not stop talking about it. And I won't.
(Here's a picture, but I'm torturing my family and friends who are curious as I can't reveal the sex until Easter....)

this is our little one. looks like a member of the Cooper family, to me.

As we move into the Easter weekend I pray we all take today to reflect on the memorial of the death of Jesus Christ. I know it's a simple tenant to the Christian faith but, the man actually died. And he actually had his last meal and served his friends, as we commemorated last night for Maundy Thursday. The Christian faith, in all its mystery is real and challenging to our lives, and this time during Holy Week is the perfect opportunity and really vital time to orientate our lives to the Savior, to renue our lives to the promises made visible and attainable by Jesus' horrible death on the cross. As always, I want to bring up Masaccio's Holy Trinity where Mary points to the death, but in doing so points towards the Throne of Heaven: The Father, and Son and the Holy Spirit (in the shape of a dove) descending from Father to the Son. She points to the promises that we can choose to accept and to follow only because of His death, for as we see below, in the plain of us as viewers, as mortals, is the skeleton with the memento mori, "I once was as you are and I am what you will be."
Both a warning and promise, this is Holy Week 2011.

Drama

The thought of raising kids becomes all the more scary and big as the weeks progress. I see kids now and they look even more like little sponges that pick up any little thing that falls from their parents. I see family dynamics and dramas and realize my limitations and downfalls as a human being and become frightened for this innocent little wonderful thing growing without the outside influence of the world (well...they say the baby can hear now, and Kanye West is still my guiltiest pleasure...so we'll see, this child might come out with more ego than any of us). But I get moments of relief when I realize that there are millions of babies born all the time to imperfect humans, and that these little babies grow up to be people, imperfect, but good people. People like my best friends, or my husband, or my sister and sister/brother in laws and parents. It's actually when I think of my parents that I am most comforted. I was given alot to look up to, a really good example to model my life after. Seth and I both were blessed with parents who are/were very wise, therefore, I really hope, this might make me kind of wise or even have some intuition about how to go about raising a kid without being stressed about doing the "right" or "wrong" thing all the time.
I was in class yesterday and rather than working we had this giant discussion about family and gender etc and I was pleasantly struck by how great my parents were when Lacey and I were growing up. The biggest thing, amongst peers talking about how their dads treated them like little princesses (not a good thing, people) or moms who gave their daughters the silent treatment, was that my parents were consistent and on the same team. Lacey and I were always treated as children (not as an adult friend who you have little dramas that result in silent passive aggression or as spoiled-perfect-mini-human-pets) and never as pawns between an argument between Mom and Dad. This seems really prevalent today. I don't really know how it manifests itself or what it looks like but I hear plenty of stories about it and of the stories of peers of mine landing in the priveledged? position of being on Mom's side or on Dad's side, when kids shouldn't even have to take a side. I don't want there to be a side to ever be on, the very idea of a different "side" would imply a disconnect between dad and mom clearly communicating to child that the bond and marriage between husband and wife doesn't need to come first in family life. I just have to think that if a child is being used as a pawn to settle arguments or whatever then they have special privilege without responsibility as "child" but as "friend" "confidant" etc. Kids need discipline and example and that's exactly what I got, and I'm so glad. I'm so glad I didn't have to know and be burdened by arguments or dramas between my dad and mom. I know they had them (being married now, i wonder how could anyone not?) And I'm so blessed that they took the time to work hard enough to understand each other so Lacey and I were always aware of expectations--indications of their very obvious "oneness." This unity is a beautiful challenge for Seth and I to try to live up to.

Well, that's all. Tomorrow is my 24th birthday which is great I guess. The best birthday present I could receive is a healthy looking baby as we will be able to see next Thursday at our first ultrasound. Not to mention finding out if baby is boy or girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


....and maybe, Seth, if you could download me that new Kanye West cd. (seriously though, how is this not kind of great :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7_jYl8A73g
or this old favorite: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvb-1wjAtk4)

Icons, Idols?

So, art history is one of those things that can get me started on this big discussion or lecture. I start by showing Seth some of my favorite images then I start telling him the stories and contexts behind them (a great way to study, by the way). Yesterday he began by talking about Mary, and how she's probably a good saint to reflect on during this time of Lent and pregnancy. He mentioned Mary's Magnificat and I shouted, "Botticelli has a tondo painting of that scene!" In which I promptly pulled out my textbook and explained how the idealized and gorgeous virgin and baby Jesus icon was scrutinized by the Dominican Monk, Savonarola, who attributed the ills and down-fall of Florence near the end of the 1400s to the "vanities" of the culture. That is, icons that to me began to take on humanistic portraiture to stand in for holy figures (I'm talking about you Fra Fillipo Lippi, and using your wife as a stand in for the Madonna). During medival times icons were painted with gold backgrounds and green flesh, with the Christ Child in a gesture of blessing and Mary in the "one who points the way (way=Christ)." This was to signal a holy, transcendent being, but here in the Neoplatonic Renaissance, we see painters and patrons who believe that to be worldly is not bad, for being worldly was then to be beautiful which was to be like God, since we are made in the image of Christ/God etc etc. Beauty was revered and vanities by the major patrons of the time (cough cough Medici) such as Botticelli's Mary Magnificat were scrutinized, (personally I feel) rightly, for having strayed away from Christ and from the teachings of the church ( from the meek and humility, poverty, etc to lavish extravagance and material beauty).

Giotto's Madonna and Child

Botticelli's Mary Magnificat

Now to write from a purely conjectural point of view....honestly I don't know much about the history of the Catholic church or of the church in general, as I'm still learning, but I know from my experience Catholicism has gotten a bad rap. Coming from my evangelical background, Catholicism isn't really seen as Christian, but rather a cold and lifeless motion of steps of strange idolatry to saints, of a weird, foreign structure that seems to be really restrictive. I used to think Catholic=Mary worship. And perhaps this shallow stereotype is one that isn't completely unfounded (I look at icons from the 1400s and Mary is becoming more and more glorified--baby Jesus, rather than in a gesture of blessing, is reaching for Mary's face.), Mary's position in the tradition could have been misinformed by humanist and worldly thought. But to think about who Mary was and her position of carrying the Redeemer of humanity, you have to reason that Mary's position (as well as all other saints) in the Church, in the Chrisitian narrative and tradition should not to be taken lightly. She cannot be dismissed as a mystical Catholic icon that seems to be worshiped. Seth suggested to me that I consider Mary as an example for me. Pregnancy is not the easiest thing in the world to accept. Let me be clear, when that stick showed up positive I could not have been more thrilled. SOOOOO happy, but when I see my body changing (I want the belly, but to be frank, my face is filling out, as is everything else...), when I have to sit down after like 30 minutes, when I have to eat all the time, when I have to consider every drop of food I eat, and how I eat it (I think I'm experiencing heartburn for the first time ever), when I look like some teenager going through a rough breakout, I begin to feel like I am not myself anymore. I am not in control of my body. I must be submitted to the process of being pregnant. Mary submitted to the mystery of acceptance of Christ. It is a beautiful metaphor to hold the Word, the Light, close(how much closer could you get than in the womb?!). Mary was faithful, and why did she do it? It was a pure love; our choice perhaps to allow Christ to enter and control our lives. It's really powerful, and I'm especially lucky to be in a position where I can experience this submission first hand. My job now, in this time of uncertainty, of waiting, of even grieving the loss of the vanities of my youth, is to be faithful to what I have submitted myself to: to being a mother, to carrying life, to taking care of the work I have been given now to do. Those are what I need to concern myself with now, not worries of how it's all going to work out four months from now.

17 weeks (almost 5 mos)

.it's called break for a reason.

So maybe I didn't accomplish as much as I would have liked on this spring break. It's not like I'll be behind, but I usually like to be ahead. Besides, I have tomorrow to put the pressure on.

But how can you work on a day when your husband is home, when all the doors are open, when our perennials are coming up and when the early spring plants need planting (oh, radishes how I can't wait for you.) I take a weird amount of joy in busying myself with chores around the house, like: finally making a linen closet out of the linen closet, laundry in prep for visitors next week(!) and experimenting with a new lunch. Look how cute:

These are actually quite tasty: layer yummy breakfast meats (I swear, this pregnancy thing is the strangest thing ever--when have I ever craved meat?), spinach (in a rueish like sauce), an egg topped with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. yum. I have been really challenged lately by the idea of really stretching my pantry and fridge. Eggs seem to be the go to source of protein for this family as I always try to cook less with red meat and more with cheap simple ingredients. Also, love it or hate it, I've been really finding some value in frozen spinach: I've been throwing it in everything especially when I feel I could use the green and when the thought of raw lettuce still turns my stomach a little bit.

I am around 15.5 weeks pregnant which means I feel alot better and it means that the idea of "baby" seems more real too especially as my waist begins to look more round than fluffy, and especially as I have dreams every other night of meeting the baby and realizing that it's a boy and that my prediction was wrong. I am able to go on walks with Julian and stay up past nine, and cooking boxed dinners just doesn't have the same appeal it used to a couple weeks ago. It's a good time, I'm starting to see the Spring.



Now...time to go plant some seeeeeeds!

the park + the liepes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got together with my sister and brother in law, Chris and Emily, and their precious bundle of giggles, Emerson, my newest nephew. We had a really nice time after devouring our Subway sandwiches....

i love this picture of them and their little monkey man



Em had a great idea to block some of the sun :)


don't worry: we didn't let him continue sucking on that seat ;)

i guess it's only fair that the camera was turned near the end of our day at the park
naptime
i treasure this image: and i can't wait for looks like that
good day. love you, Liepes.