Jamesons' Journeys

pure Michigan Jameson Version

2010-06-04T18:04:00.005-04:00

Life in L.A.

2010-04-11T10:02:00.000-04:00

This past September, Leon and I moved into our new home in St. Charles. Beyond the blessing of the house, and the quiet location on a cul de sac that backs woods and the Katy Trail, and the :30 second "commute" to get Sydney to her caregiver's house each day, we've discovered the unexpected blessing of absolutely incredible neighbors.

We started to figure this out shortly after moving in, when Friday after work and Saturday afternoons found neighbors gathering in big groups on the corner up the block. And then there was the family harvest fest in October with bobbing for apples and pot luck and the street closed off for the event. Then, we had a winter progressive dinner - which was great, and now that spring has sprung we had another progressive dinner, followed by late night carousing around the fire pit at the neighbor's right next door. Oh, and a fireworks display. About 3 dozen people were part of the fun.

Yup. Living in L.A. (that's Lower Addyston Place) is pretty fantastic. It's something we all seem to appreciate - that old-fashioned notion of really knowing your neighbors. Sitting by the fire, the families with young kids were passing the video monitor around because we all could see our babies on various channels (and check on those babysitters, right?) And we had the joyful fun of laughing and talking and the BEST part was that none of us work together, and so we didn't "talk shop", which happens way to often among like-minded pals who also share a watercooler.

We love our new neighborhood, but I think what I am going to love best is not the new house, but the old-style of relating with the people who we might be living near for the next 40 years. I have a feeling that's something that's pretty hard to find, and pretty great to have.

A little taste of NOLA

2010-02-20T18:35:00.000-05:00

"What we play is life." ~ Louis Armstrong

Many of you know that Leon and I love New Orleans. We know that people either "get that" or they quite simply don't.

I had the chance to spend three days there last week for the LEA Administrators' Conference, and of course made time late one evening to take in some jazz at Preservation Hall. I thought I'd share a clip to give you a sample of one of the many things we appreciate most about NOLA. So enjoy this little sound byte of the Paulin Bros. Brass Band. And please, tap your toe a little.

Staude Stuff: Love is in the Air

2010-02-14T22:35:00.000-05:00

Staude Stuff: Love is in the Air

Chef Sydney Creates, and I'm 48.

2010-02-14T22:23:00.001-05:00

Enjoy. And please donate. www.world25.org

2010-02-13T20:00:00.002-05:00

That whole seasonal affective thing ...

2010-02-07T17:33:00.005-05:00

For whatever reason, I've never been a big fan of February.

It actually goes back to my early teaching days in Milwaukee, when something about the shortest month of the year with its 4:30PM cover of darkness, classrooms filled with vitamin-D deficient students, and overall interminable gloom just settled in a took up a warm cozy residence in my psyche. It's just always a hard one for me.

Sure, there's plenty to appreciate about February, I suppose. Valentines Day.

Um.

President's Day.

My sister's birthday! (That's a good one, actually!) And my Dad's birthday! But those celebrations are within a week of the end of this wintry month, so they really don't count.

It's weird that February brings me such a bummer-vibe. You'd think it'd be March. Now there's a month that was gloomy in Milwaukee. But having grown up in Missouri, March - for me at least - really has always just "felt" like a harbringer of spring. I was Confirmed in March. Granted, it was overcast and extremely wet and cold, but hey - it was also Palm Sunday so it "felt" spring-y. Nope, March is all good.

Right now I am in the holding pattern - almost halfway through February and really ready for some sign of winter's demise.

So, here's my pondering today - how do all of my dear friends out there battle SAD (isn't that ironic, eh?) Seasonal Affective Disorder, I'm not saying I have it - but let's be honest the symptoms seem to be popping up all over! And this isn't a slight to folks who battle depression - we can talk about that in a future post. But the reality is - gloomy cold, hibernating communities breed a sense of "ugh." So how are you beating it?

Extra workouts? Cooking your favorite recipes? A new devotional/prayer ritual? Extra emphasis on time with friends? Maybe our January new year resolutions are better saved for February as opposed to being introduced in the hectic mayhem of the first month of the year.

I'm curious. And eager to learn because this year seems more difficult than others. I think with the new house, big stresses at the office, an on-the-go toddler, new directions for Leon's career and other "big" ticket issues on the brain, I just feel more inclined to be melancholy this February. So I am looking for some reasonably logical strategies, perhaps a good kick in the gloomy-butt, and maybe a chance to meet for tea with some good friends to help us all pull through.

January Saturdays and UnCommon Sights

2010-01-23T18:48:00.000-05:00

Eagles don't flock, you have to find them one at a time. ~ H. Ross Perot

After four days with Leon on the road; and after having (I suppose successfully) battled Syd's ear infection/chest cold/teething/lack of napping/restless sleeping, the Jameson girls had cabin fever. We needed a Saturday activity that would get us out of the house, but not expose us too much of the general public as we are just recouping from Syd's mess of germs (and I, frankly, didn't feel like doing more with my self than a pony tail and tennies). What to do?

Inspiration came early this morning (Syd was up at 5:30 ... instead of her normal 7), "Why - it's January! And we live along the Missouri River. Let's visit the bald eagles in Alton!" I figured, this might be a bust for a 2 year-old, or quite cool and so we got ourselves bundled up, grabbed a camera, and headed for Alton, IL and the Great River Road to see what we could see.

We started at the Alton Visitor's Center, where a quick online search had revealed we could get up close to one of the great birds as part of the Center's January Eagle Meet and Greet program. The tiny brick house in central Alton was absolutely packed with grandmas and papas, little ones and bored looking adolescent ones. And just hanging out in bold incongruity in the front office was a petite trainer with an absolutely huge bald eagle on her arm. I've certainly never seen anything like it, and obviously neither had Syd, who became immediately slacked jawed and just whispered "big bird." We angled through the crowd to get as close as we could, and watched. (And yes, the bird (that seems too undignified a word, actually) turned and looked right at Miss Syd.)

We picked out a small stuffy for Syd's "treasure box" and - tiny eagle in hand - headed out to the Riverlands Migratory Bird Sanctuary for a drive. We oohed and ahhed our way past dozens and dozens of migratory white swans, and turned a corner to see perhaps 2 dozens bald eagles fishing in the river to our left. It was amazing. Syd thought they looked like "big dogs" standing out in the water like they were - and they soared and were simply doing their majestic thing while we gaped at them from the cozy comfort of the car.

Following this excitement, we headed back into Alton to eat at a place called My Just Desserts (guess what the best part of lunch was? And the Tollhouse Brownie is worth the applause it receives on their Web site). Then it was time for a slower drive through Orchard Farm and home for naps.

Sydney hasn't stopped enjoying her bald eagle stuffy - and I couldn't be happier that she loved our adventure today. The idea of introducing her to "America's pet", which was the only way I could think to explain all of the wow-factor and such an early age will lead to a deeper appreciation for the power of independence, the beauty of freedom, the beauty of the view when you're soaring ... eh, too poetic? At any rate, today's lesson, toddlers and eagles are a super fit.

Onward and Upward!

A Dora Birthday Extravaganza!

2010-01-03T12:38:00.001-05:00

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Swan Song: A Gen X Perspective on Retirement

2009-11-11T20:54:00.007-05:00

Tonight, those of us at CPH celebrated the retirement of a venerable member of our team. In his early 70s, this gentleman is happily moving into a new chapter of life; retiring without apology to sunny Southern California (near his grandchildren).

Watching him perform the final act of a long and successful career has been an interesting experience these past few weeks. And it's been pretty impossible (if you are a person prone to any degree of reflection and introspection) not to consider what the end of a career must mean, should mean, will mean someday.

I've found myself appreciating the incredible good humor, relaxed attitude, and startling clarity and insight that this co-worker has provided since he announced that his time was – at long last – almost up. And while I (like many at the office) have speculated that it shouldn't take a person until the very end to behave with such freedom – in the end I think that perhaps that's precisely how it must be. After all, when else in your career can you perform so totally unfettered from the worries, politics, and expectations of the workplace? There should be something really unique about the last chapter of a person's professional life.

Long time employees and leaders who are preparing to retire are an
incredible asset to an organization.
The last parting shots they choose to lob your way are replete with wisdom and perspective – because the 40-year veteran of an organization is a dying breed in and of themselves. So listen up. I did, and here’s what I discovered:

Primarily, the lesson I discovered in Larry’s enthusiastic exit wasn't that we should all conduct ourselves like we are on the way out throughout all of our job-focused days. The lesson is that we should conduct ourselves with such passion, integrity, and no-regrets-ethic that when our last chapter comes, people are drawn to the energy we are still giving, the insight we are still sharing, the unique perspective we are still lending - right up until we walk out the door on that last 5 o'clock afternoon.

You don’t ever, ever check out. And you always exit with grace and passion. After all, it’s the final chorus of what you’ve spent the majority of your waking hours doing for 40plus years of your life. Make the conclusion a fulfilling end to the story, eh?

Here’s what I’ve learned from Larry:

1. Old-fashioned business sense matters, and provides a necessary balance to our new approaches for solving time-worn marketplace struggles masked in contemporary skin.

2. A solid handshake and a direct look in the eye cannot be undervalued, and means a tremendous amount in a world of fast paced, touchless communication.

3. If you want to impress a person, you better work at it. Contrary to what I hear a lot these days, you do have to earn the respect of the older crowd – not because you “have to”, but because you should want to.

4. If you are impressed by every somewhat talented person who stumbles across your path, you aren’t really too bright. Be on the watch for the real gems, and push them to excel.

5. Sometimes business is hard. Actually, often time business is hard – and you don’t do anyone (or any organization) any favors by curbing demands for performance.

6. Good leaders aren’t there to blow sunshine at you – and if you don’t like that, well … that’s sort of the point. Go work harder.

Taken alone these lessons don’t equal organizational success, and in fact in a new order marketplace they definitely don’t equal success. But they are necessary, and bring balance to the “new” mode of relating in business, and applying them (or at least acknowledging them) is useful.

When I met Larry, I was prepared to really not like him too much. He was gruff. Abrupt. His emails never more than about 10 words. And he absolutely didn’t fall all over himself in love with all (or any) of my ideas just because I presented them professionally and with energy. He actually made me cry (not at work, but on the long commute home) on more than one occasion. Frustration was there.

I had to work – really, really hard – to impress Larry. At the end of the day, it paid off. And he gave me some of the best, most valuable, and most meaningful praise I’ve ever received. He also left me with some pretty straightforward marching orders about my future in business. And that’s given me plenty to mull over.

So here’s to you, Larry. Thanks for being hard, old-school, and infinitely difficult. I’ve learned an incredible lot from your example.

Go enjoy that sunshine. And please leave us a number where we can track you down once in awhile.

Offline Living 101: Balance, Margin, Space to Breathe

2009-08-23T19:17:00.007-04:00

We’re on family vacation! And even though we flew out to Colorado last summer this time it feels like a bona fide family trip; Sydney, me, and Leon adventuring together! We had a long layover in Dallas (and I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in that airport), and found Mommy’s favorite terminal (D, the international terminal because of the great restaurants and super interesting people you find there) and ate a yummy supper at Chammps (where Leon couldn’t hardly tear his eyes from the TV playing ESPN, and I felt the same way about another screen which had CNN … we’ve been satellite TV deprived this summer). We read books on the plane. Sydney got to watch Dora on the mini-DVD player. And we laughed. A lot.

Best of all, of course, was the time to just BE together; even when Syd had her 10:00p.m. melt down in the Colorado Springs Terminal (just sat right down at the end of the jet bridge and started to cry, “No! No! No!”). In big moments and small, I felt like my heart was expanding; my perspective reshaping; my mind set literally “un-kinking”. And as it always does, the thought came quickly to mind that time away is absolutely essential to making the time “there” more purposeful, centered, and balanced.

That’s not a revolutionary insight, by any stretch. So why is it that we need to be reminded again and again how important it is to include margin in our lives; space, breathing room, whatever we want to call it? Apparently because we’re not quick studies; and it’s only getting worse. In the fine print that comes along with the incredible advantage of carrying our communications tools, and indeed access to the entire world via the Internet, with us, we also carry work life and responsibilities always with us.

It’s tough to escape, and there also is a noticeable growing expectation by some that you really should NOT escape (Generally, these “some” are defined by external things, like work, rewards, improvements. The notion of a life lived with OTHER priorities must seem frighteningly absent of affirmation…just my thought on that). But add to this growing feeling my protestant guilt and ENFP people-pleasing personality type, and you’ve got a pretty powerful equation for never going truly offline.

When I took my new position, I made a pact to use my vacation. I believe I said something like, “I get 5 weeks, and if at the end of the calendar year I have that left over-shame on me.” Well, let the shame begin because the year is more than half over, and I’m not even close. Unfortunately it’s not because I am consumed by the office (okay, maybe that’s it a little bit), but more that the family calendar just doesn’t seem to open up for all of us at the same time (Sydney is so busy, you know), and then there’s this small problem with how quickly time goes by.

But then I really consider that, and I start to feel just a bit uncomfortable; because in the end it still is a question of priorities.

A dear friend of mine often says “life is always about choices.” And this is true. We always have a choice. Not that responsibilities and expectations won’t or shouldn’t be important, but we need to be clear about our priorities in life (our callings, many in my immediate circle would term them).
So, how do we do it? As a working mom, who loves her husband, her daughter, her career, and her own interests, too (forgot about those, eh? Things like cooking, reading, jogging, being with friends, singing in the choir, etc.) – what is the sure-fire method to figuring out how to live a well-balanced, margin-rich, offline life in an online world?

Here are my thoughts on the matter, and I would love to hear yours-we learn by sharing these things:

Know Thy Core: God. Faith. Family. Everything else is an extra blessing and opportunity for service. Don’t destroy the core, nothing works right if that is not intact.

Think It Through: the same friend who sagely notes that life is about choices also advocates thinking things through. Really thinking it through. Here’s an example, a co-worker had the chance to attend a function for the office, which was frankly a pretty cool/big deal, OR take his son on a road trip to experience a once-in-a-adolescent-father-son-lifetime sporting event. Talking it through, he came to the conclusion that not only would the choice to be with his son be more fun (and the work thing was really easily adjusted), but it would also teach his son valuable (potentially life-shaping) lessons about priorities and how to be a Dad. When faced with choices, vacation needs, competing priorities, really think about it. Think short term. Think long term. And choose accordingly.

Be Prepared for Sacrifices. The truth of the matter is that you really can’t have it all. Something always does have to give, and so will you. Sometimes, that is really tough. If it gets to be too tough, go back to thinking it through. Maybe it’s time to let something really big move on.

Family Matters - make sure you've got them in your corner. I’m a working mom. That’s our reality, and for many families it just wouldn’t work. For us, it does. And that means that I am a different kind of Mom for Sydney and a different kind of spouse for Leon. Sound like a rationalization? You betcha; that’s precisely what it is. And my family, namely at this stage my husband, and I are firmly on the same page, and so it works for us.

Communication Is Key and ongoing. When you decide to live life with margin, you’re going to have to constantly advocate for that choice. You’ll have to convince your co-workers that this makes you a more effective leader and colleague. You’ll need to tell the PTA, the other parents on your block, and maybe even your own family that your family won’t be saying YES to every experience offered. In the process, you’ll actually help people. And you do have to earn it, not just demand it. Margin and balance is something, unfortunately in today’s environment, that must be earned. Some people are just plain lazy, you are not one of those people. Some people try to be superwoman and do it all, and balanced living isn’t that either.

A Season. Recognize that there truly is a time and a season for different aspects of your life and activities. I recall once early in my teaching career when I was literally running ragged. I think I made some inaccurate rationalization for my being over-extended that connected to the parable of the talents – you know the one, where basically the lesson learned is that burying your talents will not earn you much in the long run. I even tossed in the old ‘To whom much is given …” reference. Well, to this my Father (at least I attribute this to him) very wisely said, “True, but scripture never says you need to use all of your talents all at precisely the same time, either.” It’s a recipe for disaster, your energies and investment won’t yield near as much it could with a spiritually refreshed, rested, clear-minded person.

So, that’s my recipe (at present) for a little offline living in my life. It’s a formational approach, meaning that as I think this through it will change and shift and adapt. Perhaps I am being naïve, but vacation always seems to bring the right clarity – you NEED clarity to be at your best.

So, that’s enough of my rambling. I’m headed to the family room to be a tickle monster with Leon and attack Sydney. Then we’re going out for ice cream. That’s the OTHER great part of Vacation.

Summer Vacation ~ Day One!

2009-08-21T22:51:00.000-04:00

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Full House

2009-07-26T22:27:00.002-04:00

This summer, as you all know, has been an experiment in family dynamics (and, so my father who is currently in a grad class at Washington University with the terrifying title, "Oil Wars" tells me, it may become the norm as the decades pass and we Americans persist in our addictive love affair with foreign oil ;-) as Leon, Sydney, and I have become residents in my parents' home.

It's been super. Syd is so happy, and Leon and I are so thankful. I suppose, the family member who seems most distressed is Bailey, but that might just be his 9 years of Golden Retriever life creeping up on him (though he sure does love chasing squirrels in the backyard! My folks seem to have an abundance.)

This week, our full house is totally stuffed as my sister has come to town with her kids: Gabe (7), Asher (3.75), and Rhylah (21 months). Nate (her hubby) gets here Friday, and we will indeed be a massive grouping of Staude-Jameson-Harrmanns. It's pretty outstanding, truthfully - and my sister made the observation that this is the first time she and I have both stayed here since she got married! So Mom and Dad are totally loving it; all the kids are HOME. And until I became a parent, I don't think I could have truly grasped how neat this must actually be.

With family dynamics ever in flux and families living farther and farther apart, this time of togetherness is really something to be cherished. Here's what's great about family all together:

1. It's loud - really loud, kinda crazy loud. This is good for Sydney, who as an only child lacks that chaotic normalcy that comes with siblings and larger family units. Loud means you have to listen more closely; express more carefully; and generally appreciate the speed and intensity that comes with all that energy. It's good for people like me who tend to focus a bit too intensely on the schedule, the routine, and the details.

2. Everybody pitches in - or nothing gets done. You help clean; make sure the kids have dinner; keep an eye on everyone in the pool; pick up other people's toys; share your bed with the kids because they love to get up early and just want to be with you. It's a wonderful sense of together that you don't often get in "normal" suburban family living these days.

3. You make memories that matter - I wish Syd was a little older. Today in church during the last hymn, Papa (that's my Dad) was holding her, and suddenly Rhylah wanted to be held, too. So there was Papa (getting some serious forearm work done) with his girls and the congregation singing, and Kate and I watching them -- and I had this thought, "they won't ever remember this." But Kate and I will. And they'll always know his love for them, even when he can't pick them up!

We all know that American family life is in a state of change. Different roles, increased financial concerns, competing schedules of family members, job transitions, more extra curriculuar things for the kids to do than ever before - having everyone share a space is just not what happens that often, if at all, for many families. It's a total joy to have this summer of family life, and to find new connections and meaning in our relationships with each other. It's one of those "I wouldn't trade it" experiences, and that makes us all very glad, indeed.

A Day At the Zoo!

2009-07-02T21:53:00.001-04:00

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Home Again, Home Again

2009-05-27T22:51:00.003-04:00

It's been awhile since I've had the time to post. As ever, I've got plenty of inclination. It must be 25 times a day that I think, "Oh! That would make an interesting post!" - but finding the time remains the tired challenge.

Well, that, and the grim fact that just about half of what I think about posting I decide I really can't because - after all - we can't be terribly honest in our blogs when everyone we know reads them, now can we! Some of my best observations just need to be launched in a more anonymous way, I suppose - which screams loudly about my day-to-day environment.

Here's the update:

Everything has been an absolute jumble. We've recently moved out of our 8-year home on Almond Tree Drive, and are in the far too grown-up process of building a new place to call home (on Lankin Drive ... and I have to say that street name bugs me, because I truly wanted a more lyrical street to call home!). At present, we are living with my parents on Norwich Street.

Yup. Age 33 and home with the 'rents, and with my hubby and Baby Girl in tow! It's a strange sort of familiar, yet totally foreign experience. Living home again means knowing the morning sounds of the house; sitting in my familiar spot at the dining room table (and of course forcing Mom and Dad - who over the years have moved to sit next to one another as opposed to flanking their daughters - to do the same); and feeling far too comfy with draping my laundry over chairs, my shoes across the living room floor, and my hair assecories in the bath (okay, I actually haven't done these last few things - too much - but I think about doing them, and that’s the point)

I'm really looking forward to the summer. So far, over these last three weeks all together, all four of us: mom, dad, Leon, and me - have already determined that we've eaten more meals at a table than we have in months (too usual to just grab and go, or grab and sit (in front of the idiot box) depending on the schedule of the evening!) We've gone on more walks. Had more lengthy chats about religion and politics (my two favorite topics with Dad!). We've spent time laughing. Watching goofy TV (like the Bacheloerette!) and generally enjoying Sydney. And eating lots of Lyons custard, which is the neighborhood place and I must say – bring on the Swiss Mint Concretes, please!

Don't get me wrong - we all enjoy great, balanced, happy lives in our own spaces – but we're all game to enjoy these few months of being a unique version of the American nuclear family. It's pretty great, and I am fairly certain that the experience will be essentially special for me, for Leon, for Mom and Dad, and definitely for Miss Syd - who seems to realize already that she has four adults to love, hug, and be amused by her.

So here's to being home again - there's no place like it.

Saturdays and Sundays

2009-04-26T22:13:00.001-04:00

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Little-Old Me

2009-04-20T21:11:00.009-04:00

There's this strange feeling of déjà vu; or maybe it’s just the idea that “what goes around" truly does come around; a moment of seeing yourself in some sort of Benjamin-Button way—looking with old eyes and middle-aged perspective at a younger, sillier, more whimsical version of yourself. At any rate, however you want to define it, being the Mom of a precocious, earnest, purposeful little toddler I'm hit with these moments about 29 times a day.

Sometimes it’s profound (or at least I like to think so). Other times it’s touching. Sometimes it’s a bit unsettling (“oops, don’t want her to be like me in that way … ouch!)

This weekend, it was just pure fun. We came home from 4-days in Dallas to find our little girl’s imagination had quadrupled in size. Her current fancy: baby dolls. And so, at the end of our grocery shopping this weekend (given of course that we were in our new Super Wal-Mart where I can buy hummus and car batteries in one fell swoop), we headed to the toy aisle and purchased …

A Cabbage Patch Newborn™

Her name is Paula (not a terribly "baby like" name; my doll as a kid was named Linda. Who names these things may I ask?) We are calling her Baby Polly. Sydney loves her, very much.

Now, back in the day my sister and I wanted Cabbage Patch dolls soooooo bad. Oh my goodness, it was intense. And in the mid-1980s, the 30 dollar price tag was more than steep. But one magical day, this enormous box arrived from my Grandma Joan in Michigan. And there were our dolls. It was totally great. So, I have to admit, I felt pretty cool selecting Sydney's first Cabbage Patch Kid (and yes, I held up option, and the winner was the box she decided to lick.)

So here’s to the next few precious year’s when Sydney will be happy and content to dream and play “in the nursery”. I wish I could let her stay little forever. But something tells me, I’m going to really love the girl, teenager (yes, teenager), young woman, and grown woman this child is working to become.

easter tides

2009-04-12T21:01:00.001-04:00

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what makes tradition

2009-04-10T20:53:00.003-04:00

tra * di * tion

1 a: an inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought, action, or behavior (as a religious practice or a social custom)

2: the handing down of information, beliefs, and customs by word of mouth or by example from one generation to another without written instruction

One day, Sydney will recall that Good Friday means a quiet morning at home. Reading from God's Word. Shopping for Easter shoes with Grandma. Dyeing eggs with Mommy to hide for Sunday morning. Waiting for Daddy to be home from midday church, and going together to evening church.

One day, Sydney will know without being told that Easter means more than candy and Peeps and chocolate rabbits; and is even more than her beautiful basket with its personalized butterfly fabric liner.

One day, Sydney will hopefully think back fondly on moments with her parents and grandparents on special holy-days like these. Just as I recall handmade dollies from my Grandmother. And hunting for Easter baskets with my sister. And new dresses. And beautiful music at church. And singing in the school chorus for those daybreak services. Delicious suppers prepared by my Dad. Warm Missouri sunshine and family time.

And maybe, she'll work to recreate those feelings and experiences and attitudes and conversations with her own family. That's the beauty of tradition.

Tradition means that even though I am far from my sister this Easter, I can guess how she is celebrating and probably even how she's feeling. I can picture how my Aunt and Uncle are contemplating all the blessings of the Lord. I know how my parents will greet Easter with a “He is Risen” at the house on Norwich Street, even though Kate and I are grown and gone.

I think quite a bit about the importance of tradition. I always have been particularly aware of how things were and are and "should" be. But now, especially as a parent, I want to take careful note of how we create moments—both everyday and special-day. More than ever, I see how all of the experiences of my own childhood created this incredible reservoir of memory, values, faith, and significance. I want Sydney to have a similarly deep pool from which to draw.

So what creates tradition? It’s more than just doing the same things year after year; it’s how you do what you do. It’s creating rituals of action that are meaningful, and because they are meaningful, they become memorable and worthy of being passed along—often embellished and recollected warmly with the generosity that time lends to most old stories. Experiences become lasting when they are reinterpreted and re-imagined by the next generation—and usually they aren’t done exactly the same way as in years past. But it's when the spirit of the doing stays intact that traditions are made.

So here’s to traditions, past or present—those patterns of thought inherited over time make us who we are, and I—for one—am awfully glad they do.

spring fling

2009-03-22T21:21:00.001-04:00

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listen up

2009-03-20T23:03:00.003-04:00

The literature teacher in me will forever love stories. The simple act of using language to inform, captivate, describe, inspire.

Every Friday as I drive into work, I hear the weekly NPR segment from Story Corps, a project of the American Folklife Center of the Library of Congress. Since 2003, more than 35,000 people have shared their stories with Story Corps. It’s one of the most ambitious oral history projects ever undertaken and if you haven’t heard about it, you really should visit their Web site and learn more.

But here’s the compelling attraction of this project – it’s purpose is not about the telling as much as it is about the listening.

The Story Corps Web site says, “Our mission is to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.”

I resonate with this ideal.

Driving along in my car on solitary mornings, there’s nothing I can do but listen to these stories—some memorable, others strange, most seemingly insignificant, but made momentarily meaningful because someone hears it.

It's the project’s simplicity that inspires me. How will I share my stories with Sydney? How will I ensure that she hears the stories of my parents, and my parents-parents? With all of the noise, talking, speaking, podcasting, streaming, and media-savvy blogging, tweeting, status-updating chatter from every individual on the planet, can we ever hope to find again that simple situation of personal conversation: “a son asking his mother about her childhood, an immigrant telling his friend about coming to America, or a couple reminiscing on their 50th wedding anniversary …”

My best and most growing moments have been moments of story and conversation with my grandparents, parents, teachers, mentors, and friends. The objects I love best in my home are full of story. The notes and papers that fill the “treasure” boxes in my basement are valuable because of the stories they help me to recall.

And it truly is more about the listening than the speaking—being connected with the language and ideas and concepts of others where we find a sense of who we are amongst the whole.

What Would You Say

2009-02-27T22:10:00.001-05:00

I opened my Facebook account recently; delighted to find a message from a wonderful young woman, now in college, who has been an important part of my Girls’ Group, one of my actresses, and an active member of our youth group over the years. She is bright, articulate, creative, and studying to be a high school teacher—a career choice that will truly be a blessing to many students in the years to come.

Currently, she’s enrolled in a workshop at the state university where she is a student, and she wrote me with a question.

Her 9-week program deals with issues of body image and self-esteem. The young women taking the class will use the skills they learn to mentor younger teen girls in local high schools. Sounds like a great program, and I know without a doubt that this young woman will use the skills she learns to complement her already considerable compassion and concern for teens.

But, her question really stumped me. She was prompted to contact a woman in her life and to ask that woman to share her proudest, most powerful moment.

Powerful. Power. That word made me uncomfortable to a degree. It seemed so … showy. But there’s this part of me that rather liked the notion of showy. Like lots of people, I am attracted to the idea of being perceived as a powerful woman. Perhaps the word strong would be more palatable. But the word I was asked to consider was powerful.

Power. Ful.

I pondered.

Leon immediately suggested, “When you had Syndey,” and I truly wish I could say that was my most powerful moment. But I was lying on an operating table undergoing a just-about-emergency c-section, and while I was overcome, I’m not entirely sure I felt powerful. I felt … humbled.

Then I looked up the word. And powerful, power actually, is tied to having influence over others. And trust me, in that moment I was not influencing others. Syd was coming into the world, whether I wanted it or not. Not by my power at all, to be honest.

My mind raced. After all, I want to provide a meaningful, compelling response. I want to offer a response worthy of the respect this young woman has for me. I want to give a powerful, influencial response to the question about power.

Interesting, no?

I thought through the obvious moments. And in these instances, I would suggest that most of us are led to think about achievements. God has been good, and my life has had its share. Faced with this question, you might think of those moments when you impacted large groups of people; received accolades; engaged in charitable or humanitarian acts. But each and every idea that came to mind, I rejected. “Nope. Surely that couldn’t have been my most powerful moment.”

I panicked. “What’s wrong with me that I can’t immediately conceptualize that moment?” As a professed self-aware person, shouldn’t I just know that apex moment in my life?

But as the hours (and now days) passed, a common theme began to emerge; sifted through those recollections of obvious moments.

Powerful moments are more about the end result than the immediate impact. (And my apologies dear reader, but I am not ready to expose all of these on a blog, but here are a few.) Before I left the hospital with Sydney, for instance, Leon left the room to get the car. And Sydney and I had a quiet conversation. Promises were made. That was a powerful moment.

After Leon and I were married, my grandmother fell into her final illness. We were with her and a small group of family. There was absolutely nothing we could do to stop her leaving us. And yet, that moment has become a powerful moment.

Sitting on a mountainside with a weeping teenager; a scene that no one ever saw and a conversation about God and decisions that no one will ever hear. A powerful moment.

I hate to be clichéd, but I am wondering if maybe the more life you encounter (not necessarily years, mind you), the more you recognize that those moments that make you feel the most “powerful” are those where you define self, not those where others define you.

In my younger years, I am sure my response would have been quick and certain and would have involved some sort of accolade or praise; a cheering crowd or happy class of students or a recognition in front of my peers.

But I am realizing more and more that the moments that “make” me are much quieter. And interestingly, in the trusty dictionary, the first definition of power has nothing to do with control or influence. It’s this: the ability to produce an effect.

And when you produce effects, it can’t be all about you.

For several years, I had the joy and privilege to work on behalf of Christians teenagers as part of the National LCMS Youth Gathering. Over those 6 years, there were many on-stage, up-front moments. Lots of chances to feel proud and powerful, but the moment that stands out the most is a quiet one: Standing in the darkness in the mass event hall where 30,000 students watched the action on stage, while I simply stood and watched them. No one knew me (in fact, one youth leader asked me to step out of the way), but I knew them, and I knew the hundreds of hours of work that had impacted that moment. And I didn’t need anyone to tell me “great job.” It was powerful.

My most powerful moments are those when I understand my purpose, and am affirmed in the choices and direction of my life. Often, they are moments that are humbling, because at the very same moment that I feel “great”, I am also conscious of how small I really am in the “big picture.” I think this is a significant learning at this stage in my life.

You see, like many new moms, I think I am dancing with the inclination to make Sydney’s moments my powerful moments. They’re not. Those moments are hers. And it’s important for me to retain a sense of pride and purpose of self so that I can be a powerful, effective mom.

So. After all of this, what is my response to my dear friend: My most powerful moment have been those when I have been most aware of my own weakness. My most powerful moments, while maybe including affirmation and accolades, have also been accompanied by personal moments of taking in the significance of my own insignificance, which result in feelings of deep gratitude to my Heavenly Father who delights in me, strengthens, and equips me in all circumstances.

Maybe not the most powerful of answers, but I hope its message will suffice.

Cookie Monster Says "The LAST Cookie!"

2009-02-19T22:23:00.002-05:00

Okay friends. It's a sign of our new role as parents - but take 3:39 minutes and just watch this hilarious sketch. We love Cookie Monster - and his body language is a riot in this one. Just wait until he gets to the LAST COOKIE.

Ah to be so singularly motivated. You always know what drives Cookie, kinda nice.

Enjoy.

Let me count the ways ...

2009-02-16T20:44:00.006-05:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

A Sydney Update

2009-02-08T11:06:00.001-05:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Theory on Facebook Status – “This feeling that I’m unwanted …”

2009-01-31T22:01:00.002-05:00

So, it’s a typical Jameson Saturday night, which means we are home. Syd is sleeping. I am enjoying a glass of wine and watching Frasier reruns. And Leon is getting his message perfected for PowerHouse tomorrow.

And I’m aimlessly cruising Facebook; slightly bemused by the random nature of the Statuses of all of my friends living in that virtual community.

Actually, lately, I’ve been really considering the whole philosophy that lurks within the notion of the Status Post … is it really the idea that we are (culturally) amusing ourselves to death, or is there something more profound at work in our need to let everyone know what we are up to …

As I embark on a Twitter campaign for work – unpacking this voluntary-offering-up-a-GPS-of-self has me even more intrigued. But nonetheless, tonight I was scrolling through the Status Updates of my friends – the absolute variety of their experiences was stunning. A rundown is interesting —And I’m not saying this is profound, but I think there’s something more to say about …

XXX is going on a hot date tonight!!!

XXXX is wiped.

XX shoveled 18in of snow off the entire driveway, sidewalk, and deck. It is now clear to move in.

X was on tv. haha!

XXX wonders if there's a special prize if you get 2 seasoning packets in your ramen noodles?

XX is playing hide and go seek with America's economy, and its a good hider.

X is glad that his 3-yr-old daughter is finally home from the hospital after a long ten days!

XX is laughing it up.

XXX It's never too late to realize what's important in your life--and to fight for it.

And then … a student wonders if there is anyone out there for her, because she has this feeling she’s unwanted.

Well. That makes you stop and wonder.

The Facebook Status – the awkward, honest-yet-contrived overview of your cross-section of American-Global life, all in a matter of seconds.

Google it - and countless blogs are already pondering the theory - and countless authorities are already defining the update addiction so many Facebookers must be confronting.

I don’t know that I have anything to say about this – necessarily … but, it seems to me that the flocking of American culture to Facebook and the need to update one’s status on an hourly, daily, monthly, minute-ly moment is somehow akin to the classic “cry for help.”

That’s, too dramatic, but the question is: for whom do we post our status?

Self? Others? … I honestly am not sure about my own response to that question.

And I guess the deeper issue is, truly, is anyone actually paying attention …

Sunday evenings. A conversation.

2009-01-25T21:47:00.003-05:00

“I think I am going to blog.”

“Great idea. What about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Something funny happened this weekend.”

“Sure.”

“How about you talk about our house hunt?”

“Nah.”

So went the casual chat in the Jameson living room ... about 5-minutes ago.

I'm lounging here in my favorite chair, watching the (using Leon’s words) “Something Templar” on NBC; drinking a lovely glass of Estancia Pinot Grigio; and contemplating a bubble bath.

This is what I would call an absolutely ideal Sunday evening.

I wish I could say that I have more to … say tonight. But, I don’t’. And how tremendous that the Internet allows me to simply blabber on about nothing simply because I want to—ah, communications in the 21st century. There’s probably an insightful blog in there, but not for me tonight.

Truthfully, I have nothing of anything resembling an epic insight to share (not that I really ever do … but at least I put forward a good front).

Although, Leon just tossed out the "how about Sydney throwing her food for the last two days ... there's a blog in there." And he's probably right, but-again-not tonight.

I simply felt like sending out a hello to the “void.” Well. Not so much the void, but to those folks who often say, “I follow your blog.” (Leave comments – we like those!) To those folks, I feel a need to say something new – and what is that line from You’ve Got Mail … “The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something."

But all those somethings can truly add up.

At any rate, tonight is a peaceful, routine evening; and for that I am thankful and content. The week will start bright and early, and it’s moments such as these that give me the “umph” to tackle it with true energy.

Onward and Upward!

the audacity of hope

2009-01-19T20:12:00.000-05:00

The House at Silver Lake

2009-01-12T20:51:00.002-05:00

A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Well. That's a bit morose for a Monday evening.

Not to be too terribly dramatic or melancholy about it all, but Leon and I thought we had our dream home in our sights—only to be thwarted. Long story, and it may still work out. Here’s to hoping this is a syrupy sweet story and not a rotten meat story. Yeesh.

I called the house the “Father of the Bride” house, and not only because it was this rambling colonial. But it had that whisper about it—"settle here and raise your kids and welcome them back when you’re old and grey". I'm a bit of a sucker for that whisper.

I’m trying to determine what has me so set on finding that particular house—“the” house as it were. I think it truly is wrapped up in that idea of rootedness, connection, and the allure of the familiar. I like those concepts, even as much as I love exploring new places, eating adventurous foods, and traveling to distant locations. It’s the knowledge that what is certain waits that makes the unknown so vast and compelling.

The BIG One!

2009-01-04T20:50:00.000-05:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Tinsel

2008-12-26T21:40:00.003-05:00

This year, I opted to go old-school and garnish the tree with tinsel. My grandparents on both sides always had trees that dripped with tinsel, and so it evokes this rather comfy, 1950s sort of vibe for me.

(I made this same decorating decision a few years back, and now recall telling Leon that if I ever had the idea again, he should tell me not to do it. He didn’t. And so, we have tinsel.)

Here’s what I was thinking: With a toddler in the house, obviously we parsed down the typical ornaments on the tree. I thought adding a bit of sparkle would make up for the rather naked bottom half.

And, it really does look nice.

Tinsel is just … not very Gretchen-y.

It’s difficult to explain. When placing tinsel, it seems (as I've been told) that you really can go insane if you attempt to apply it in any sort of uniform way. (Reference Grandpa Bill, who apparently – according to family lore – would painstakingly hang the tinsel strand-by-strand. I’m not saying he was insane, but he was a … strong personality.)

You have really got about 2 options when it comes to hanging tinsel:

1. Applying the "No-holds-barred, glob and throw" approach; or

2. Discovering (and then being “okay” with) a half-way process somewhere between crazy Grandpa Bill and lobbing globs of silver gloop onto your tree.

I want desperately to achieve option one – but knowing that my globs just won’t look careless and effortless enough, I instead go for option 2. However, I struggle with the implied “walking away” part of that option. Instead, over the course of many long, winter nights I find myself going back. Going back. And back, again. Trying to organize my tinsel into a more disorganized and whimsical look.

I believe the definition of crazy is something about repetitive behavior. Great. Merry Christmas.

Here's the heart of the problem that is tinsel: you never “fix” just one strand. Oh no. Instead, one strand leads to another branch that needs just a little help, and suddenly 30-minutes have passed by, and you’re standing there in front of the tree (which, even with all of your rearranging actually looks not one stitch different than when you began) covered in tinsel strands, and feeling a little … crazed.

Ugh. Back to insanity again. Not good.

But maybe I need to look at this differently.

After all, Christmas morning has come and gone; the presents are in their comfortable, unwrapped heap under the tree—and I am (going out on a limb here) guessing that no one noticed my tinsel’s lack of even distribution. Let’s see; learn and apply …

2008 was the jumbled puzzle box year. Only in our case, someone threw all the pieces in the air and we are still trying to find the ones that disappeared under the couch, … beneath the area rug, … into the fireplace.

It’s been a jumbled up year. A good year, don’t get me wrong. Just jumbled.

Maybe tinsel fits that new approach. Maybe being comfortable with globs is something I need to do. … Perhaps I need to embrace the tinsel, and let go of the insane need to carefully manage, apply, distribute, and orchestrate … In the end, there’s something awfully glorious and unfettered about those globs. And something truly powerful in just letting them be.

Christmas 2008

2008-12-26T21:13:00.001-05:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Sharing the memories

2008-12-06T11:35:00.003-05:00

I've been terribly lax about our posts these last few weeks.

Thankfully, my sister is far more up-to-date. Check out her Thanksgiving Day video recap here.

2008-12-01T22:03:00.001-05:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Thanksgiving Prep 101

2008-11-15T21:12:00.009-05:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite cooking holiday. And that’s saying something, because I love, love, love to cook.

Last year, even as a rather rotund pregnant, bed-rest lady—my Dad and I achieved a whole new level in our Thanksgiving culinary expression. We’ve been honing our skills for 10-years now. I’m not sure who is the chef and who the sous-chef in our cozy pair; that pretty much depends on whose selected recipe we are working on at any given moment.

Anyway – it was a triumph. And I can’t wait for this year. I start my planning early, and devote time to menu development and even centerpiece, linen, and place card theme.

Yup. I’m dork. Love it!

But I am looking for menu insight.

Here was last year’s menu – and I am currently working on this year’s, with the goal of it being ready at the end of the weekend.

The big difference, 2-turkeys.

I order my turkey from Mannino’s Market in Cottleville, and they only go up to a 24-pound bird. Even Straub’s in STL stops there. And with our guest list, I need at least 30-pounds, plus Leon loves leftovers and we will have family in town, so I really want 35-pounds.

That’s a lotta bird.

But the question before us: do we do the SAME recipe on both, or go a little crazy and do something really fun with the second?

Okay – back to that menu:

Roasted Brined Turkey stuffed with citrus, garlic and herbs (yum-OOOO!)
Citrus Turkey Gravy (a recipe of Liz Gaunt, preparred by her mother-in-law that was awesome, awesome, awesome!)
Wild porcini mushroom, chestnut, and sausage dressing (note to self: don’t be a hero this year and try to roast and peel your own chestnuts, OW – I have no fingerprints left – go buy at Straub’s)
Martha’s Mashed Potatoes (yum – a staple, and a must-do because Leon has a deep aversion to any sort of “weird” potatoes. Remind me to tell story about our first Thanksgiving and Gret’s fancy potatoes … it involved herbs and gruyere)
Brussels Sprouts and Almond Creamy Casserole (a delicious recipe from my dear, dear friend Krista – amazing and I don’t usually LIKE Brussels sprouts!)
Trinity Lutheran’s Cranberry Relish (small country parish, nuff’ said)

Balsamic Roasted Sweet Potatoes (this is the recipe that never ends. Over the years, we have halved it, and halved it again and still could feed a small brigade; I am done with this recipe. Its departure opens up a coveted slot for some other noble veggie to claim … hmmm, see the poll in the margin!)
Herb Cheddar Biscuits (a MUST do – courtesy of my Martha Stewart Living 1999 magazine … yummmmmm)
Dollar rolls (yes, the cheap brown-n-serve, I love 'em and therefore they earn a spot amongst all the fancy sides!)
German Chocolate Pecan Pie (this replaced my standard Maple Bourbon Pecan Pie, which I think needs to make a return because it’s my personal favorite … although, according to my notes from 2007 it was a keeper – and yes, I keep notes in my cool monogrammed recipe binder that Leon got me from Williams Sonoma (yeah!). It has a whole section for recording holiday menus … triumphs as well as failures … hmmm… what to do)
Traditional Pumpkin Pie

Rolling Meadows Vineyards White Niagara

I am going to bring back some sort of delicious sweet potato dish. I have a recipe for a sweet potato gratin, but Martha also just released her famous sweet potato spoon bread ... I also found this recipe for a Potato Mushroom Pie that looks to be amazing ... Decisions, decisions!

But here's where I would love ideas:

A bird recommendation
A new veggie pick (see the poll, and you can check the recipes out at http://www.marthastewart.com/)
And any great, must-do, must-have recipes that you think I should add.

I actually haven’t put any of my Thanksgiving recipes onto our family recipe site – call me evil …. Hehehehe … I just really want to be that great-great-great-grandma whose herb cheddar biscuits just can’t be replicated beyond the grave.

You know? The stuff from which true legacy is made.

names and terms.

2008-11-10T21:23:00.006-05:00

So, there’s a fresh Web site that was publicized in MidWest Living (okay, I totally just ruined any perception that might yet be lingering out there that I am—in any way—cool … obviously, I’m not) …

Anyway, it’s a great site. http://www.retropresident.com/ Check it out.

And with the presidential election over and done, and the “transitional” government in motion—it’s a perfect place to reminisce about all those candidates who have fought the good fight, and faded into the dusty pages of well-worn U.S. History texts. Here, the candidates of yesterday lie in stealthy wait to besiege some poor high school junior faced with that most horrifying tool of torture: the names and terms quiz (my former history students should be groaning right now … )

Maybe you still “Like Ike,” or think that “Four More Roosevelt Lucky Years” sounds like just the ticket. Perhaps you are or were and initial-fan of RFK, JFK, LBJ, or—to lose the rhyme pattern there, just good old FDR.

Some of us still long to commemorate the obvious winners like Regan, Nixon, Ford, Truman, Clinton, and Carter (hmm, no editorializing here). Other more sensitive souls may wish to pay homage to the underdogs —the man (and in some cases woman) nobody remembers. But hey—he ran for president, which in theory suggests Udall, McGovern (can a name be more positively presidential?), Humphrey, Goldwater, Chisholm (female), Landon, Muskie, and Hart weren’t exactly slouches.

Looking through the pages and pages of t-shirts at this kitschy site—some that honor legends, and others that recall nobodies—you find the brilliant campaign slogans, and concerns of years gone by.

And I can’t help but wonder how posterity will define this last marathon season of campaigning, slogans, stumping, and mud-slinging. We’re in such a rush these days either to define our own greatness, or boast others failures that I think the pundits and political prophets believe they can determine how future generations will define all of this.

They can’t.

And it’s refreshing to be reminded of that as I poked around the site.

Retro President: Fashionably nostalgic official.

Hmmm. That’s a humbling legacy for anyone, I would think. And I guess it reminds me that true presidential greatness is a mantle earned with time, and bestowed by the future.

As for me, I think it’s an “All the Way with Adlai” tee for Dad, and maybe a Kennedy Onesie for Syd this Christmas.

I wonder if they have any William Jennings Bryan gear. They should. I believe he once said: “The way to develop self-confidence is to do the thing you fear and get a record of successful experiences behind you.”

I wonder if he said this before or after he ran for the White House 3 times? Good man. Good man.

seasonal senses.

2008-11-02T20:48:00.019-05:00

Revel in the living that is "fall".

With its sights: long, lingering walks backlit by tall shadows cast by the end-of-summer sun. Bold hues presented against bluer skies than you can even define. Heaps of uniquely orange-colored, oblong harvest (with a little child perched atop the bounty!). Homes outfitted with a sense of exuberance, color, and warmth. Rows of vines empty of all but the last lucky bunches of sweet grapes that escaped the vintner's clip. Faces lit by the glow cast from an outdoor fire.

With its tastes and its sounds: Crisp apples. Succulent pears. Crunchy leaves. Sweet-savory molasses treats, pumpkin breads, and robust flavors of roasted squash, and cauliflower soups. Tangy stews and bold chilis. New spices and herbs complement fall as sage, marjoram, savory, and rosemary replace the cilantro, basil, and thyme of summer.

This year, I am definitely savoring each moment. Last year found us worrying over Sydney’s birth; me on bed-rest; Leon stressed. It was difficult to notice leaves changing, and we certainly didn’t find time for pumpkin hunting, backyard fireside meals, canning concord jelly with friends, or bringing out those favorite sweaters.

This year has been robust and lasting. Our little family is enjoying it immensely. And we even had Halloween to enjoy with not-just a “childlike” zeal, but with a happy, smiling, wiggly little lovebug.

I wanted to simply share a few of my favorite fall recipes, including a new one for Pumpkin Banana Bread … so, download George Winston’s, Autumn from iTunes and spend time mulling the quiet lead into the crush of the holiday season.

Pumpkin Banana Bread – a fresh take on a classic

2 cups sugar
2/3 cup cooking oil
4 eggs
3 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 ½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground ginger
2/3 cup water
1 15-ounce can pumpkin
½ cup mashed ripe banana
¾ cup chopped pecans (optional)

1. Grease the bottom and ½ up the sides of two 9x5x3-inch loaf pans; set aside. In a very large bowl, beat sugar and oil until combined. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each.

2. In a large bowl, combine dry ingredients. Alternately add flour mixture and water to sugar mixture, beating after each addition just until combined (never over mix your dry ingredients!!) Beat in pumpkin and banana. Stir in pecans. Spoon batter into prepared loaf pans.

3. Bake in 350 degree oven for 50-to-60 minutes, or until a wooden toothpick comes out clear. Cool in pans for 10-minutes, remove. Cool completely.

These next recipes link to our family recipe wiki ... enjoy!

Bistro White Chili – Perfect for a fireside meal in the backyard with family and friends.

Chewy Molasses Cookies – Think of those delicious Starbucks’ treats, grab your favorite fall blend and enjoy

Hearty Country French Stew - Great for an afternoon of slow cooking.

Next up, I am trying a cauliflower and chantrelle mushroom soup – and will certainly post if it turns out as yummy as it appears in the magazine, and I also have a recipe for a pear, apple, and cranberry cobbler. Leon doesn’t love apple, so … I may need to find some other willing testers here at home!

At any rate, whether you bake, cook, or order your fall goodness from a local haunt, enjoy your autumn. Be nourished by the season, and bid farewell to the last evidence of summer with calm and joy – be at rest for the hibernating season to come. …

Onward and Upward!

Formica.

2008-10-22T21:47:00.002-04:00

I’m not entirely sure what it says about me that I am writing my second blog about a table. Long time readers are familiar with my previous post about my new dining room table, and so shouldn’t be too surprised (I suppose) by this reflection on another, much more modest piece of family furniture. I guess if the reflection was just about the physical attributes of the table, that might seem puzzling. Believe me, this entry is about more than that.

In fact, this particular table has featured prominently in my “theory of youth ministry”, which I have shared in countless places over the years from district publications to, most recently, the 2008 LCMS Theological Convocation in St. Louis this past August. More on that some other time … Suffice it to say, this is one gem of a table.

My dad’s parents were two of the best people I have ever known. Grandma and Grandpa Staude were the epitome of quality folk —and I was blessed to really know them throughout the first 22-odd years of my life. The table that I am immortalizing through this post is their kitchen table; a rescue from an old diner in St. Joseph, MI, complete with the requisite Formica top and stainless steel accents. For many, many years, this little table was nestled warmly in the window nook of my grandmother’s home—the window side so tightly set against the wall that only the smallest of grandchildren could comfortably shimmy into those seats for a meal. And the color? That’s the best part. The color of the accompanying chairs reflected something of my grandfather’s boyish glee and silly side: a garish pink. Think Grease, the Pink Ladies; the color of 1950s ice- cream-parlor-pink. Fabulous chairs.

And if you knew my grandmother (who never owned a store bought dress and was hardly the definition of a rare beauty), well, let’s just say she probably never wore pink in her life! And was the better for it, I would guess. Strangely, it never occurred to me that it might be odd that my elderly, farm-minded grandparents sported a pink Formica table in their otherwise fairly staid and steady home. It just was, and we just loved it.

Every morning when we would visit, my sister and I would wake to eat breakfast with Grandma and Grandpa. There was a toaster to operate, devotions to read, and stories to share. We colored at that table. We helped dry dishes washed clean in my grandmother’s enormous farm-styled kitchen sink (original and not a Pottery Barn-esque knock-off). I remember cooking grilled cheese sandwiches for my husband and Grandmother after he had proposed, and eating them sitting around that table. I remember making a strawberry pie to feed my family while we were there trying to decide what should happen to the farmhouse after my Grandmother died from cancer. It’s a meaningful table.

And for the past 10 years since her passing, it has been stored in the quiet recesses of my Aunt and Uncle’s barn. This is a table that needs more than quiet dust motes for company! First in a soda fountain shop, and then as a centerpiece for a family as my Dad and Aunt grew-up, and then as a place for quiet devotion as my Grandparents would begin their day with prayer before the sun—this is a table for life. And for my grandparents, life meant that it was a place for laughter, too.

I am a firm believer in the importance of these necessary, rooted things. This table is more than just a possession, an inanimate, material thing … it is part of our family. It is a gathering place, and as such it represents many things that are good, real, important, and lasting.

My Grandparents pink table has come out of its storage space. It now holds a place of tremendous honor in my sister’s kitchen, which you can find in a rambling 100 year-old home in downtown St. Joseph. She just moved there with her husband, my two nephews, and sweet niece. In this enormous home that once housed a mayor of the city, my Grandparents silly, bright, and impossible Formica pink table holds a place of honor.

This weekend, I visited Katie with my daughter, Sydney and my best friend, Kathy, in tow. And the first evening we were there, we gathered elbow to elbow around the table for dinner. And the next morning, we gathered for coffee, playing with the babies, and laughter. And then for lunch. And then to work on homework with my nephew. To drink wine late into the evening. And watch the sun in the morning light. And to talk. And laugh. And be. I found myself sitting back from the scene, thinking about how totally happy I was that this odd little table had found its place once more.

Throughout the weekend, I heard again the sounds of all of those years of laughter, and thoughts, and prayers, and conversations, and I felt so grateful to be experiencing all of those things once more. I remember when my grandmother died feeling the deep hurt of grief, and wondering if things would ever feel right again. And of course, they did. Part of growing and aging is that you start to understand that deep joy can and does follow deep hurt. It’s a lesson that never grows old, and always moves me. Being at this table again was to live joy, laugh love, and revel in connection—what a table. What a place.

Don't climb a tree with a dolly.

2008-10-05T22:22:00.013-04:00

"When you look for the bad in mankind, expecting to find it, you surely will." Abraham Lincoln, or at least attributed to him by a Hollywood screenwriter.

"You're such a Pollyanna."

Have you ever heard that phrase? Have you dished it out, or been on the receiving end?

We used to make kind fun of my old work friend, Jim with this slightly snarky statement. In response, he proudly framed an album cover from the 1960s record of the Disney movie soundtrack. You see, Jim didn't have any problem whatsoever being considered kind, generally positive, and well-known for being inclined to see things on the bright side.

"You're such a Pollyanna."

When did that phrase become a negative thing; an uncomfortable, "who wants to be a Pollyanna," expression? After all, Pollyanna is just a silly, happy, naive girl, right? Maybe.

When I was a little girl, I loved the Disney movie, Pollyanna. I loved the hair bows and terrific dresses, to be sure. And like most youngsters, I cried at the end. I remember worrying that Pollyanna would never walk again, and wishing that they would make a Pollyanna 2.

Well, enter adult perspective, where "being a Pollyanna" is somehow construed to mean that you are a sappy, glass-half-full type. I hadn't actually watched Pollyanna for many years. I didn’t go out and rent it or anything, but was led back to this compelling story through the magic of 9-million TV channels and free Showtime for a year.

Tonight while channel surfing - we saw it was on, and with my mother-in-law, who is visiting for a few days, decided we had to watch it. Leon seemed just a bit skeptical (he had never seen the film!), and became even more so when we casually explained that in the end of the movie, this sweet little girl would come crashing out of a tree and be paralyzed because the dolly she won at the town fair – oh by the way, she’s an orphan and her parents were poor missionaries who couldn’t afford her a dolly and instead gave her crutches – fell from the roof, which she was balancing on because her mean old aunt made her sleep in an attic bedroom and had not let her go to said fair in the first place.

Why on earth he found this troublesome is unclear. …

Still, we watched it. And oh, it was so nice to immerse in the 1960 Disney attitude. To consider what a difference one person can make; to be struck (as a new parent perhaps in a fresh way) by the importance of learning from a child; to enjoy the total cheese-factor of the premise. And yes - I did cry at the end, and rejoiced (and yes, clapped like a child) as Harrington Town became "the Happy Town," and with adult understanding realized that, yes - Pollyanna would probably walk again, and even if she didn't - well, that wasn't the really the point of the film anyway!

Modern day applications from Pollyanna certainly abound.

I won't go on and on about our cynical world. The world has always been so. We are just a little louder about it now. And I won't wax on about the need for seeing the best in people, playing the Glad Game, or the importance of considering the Happy Texts in Scripture. It's enough to suggest that watching this sweet family film, from an entirely different era, provided me with a wonderful simplicity of perspective with which to start another week.

And maybe, I'll have steak and ice cream for breakfast tomorrow - just to keep the nice feeling alive.

Be happy today!

(And if you have time, take a gander at this clip, which actually talks about the whole concept of being called a Pollyanna!)

CNN/politics, debate, and musing

2008-09-26T21:36:00.002-04:00

Bear with me – I am muddling over a thought …

What a world we now enjoy. I am watching the debates live at CNN.com, sharing my responses via the live feedback application, IMing with Leon (who is texting from Camp Wartburg where he is at a junior high confirmation retreat), updating my Twitter, and now posting to my blog. And I can't help but wonder, with all this communication, all this message sending, is there listening amidst the noise?

No more is communication linear, certainly. And really, it never has been. But there’s something going on in terms of the weight of the messages that can be sent in proportion to the messages that can be received, encoded, and responded to.

If, as James Carey suggests, “Communication is a symbolic process whereby reality is produced, maintained, repaired, and transformed,” what a reality we are simultaneously inventing and transforming every moment?

Complex. Mutli-layered. Communication free of the constraints of geography was invented with the telegraph. And communication free of the constraints of time, free of forced focus, and free of interruption is now the reality of online, digital, webby sending and receiving.

But I do wonder – how are we transforming the receiving? I can send messages simultaneously via multiple media. But I can still only receive with one mind. I wonder how much is lost as so much content is sent – but only so much can be truly received, considered, and answered.

Oops. I am tuning out the debate. Better go. Can’t listen with just one ear ;-)

Our Midwest

2008-09-23T20:07:00.001-04:00

Autumn has officially arrived.

And although the temperature is still a steamy 85 degrees, some of the leaves have started to fall, and an auburn hue is blushing the edges of smaller trees. We love the fall in Missouri. The Midwest is unpretentious in its natural beauty, and that suits us.

Currently, I am reading (and I would go so far as to say savoring) the new novel by Curtis Sittenfeld, American Wife, and I encountered a passage that spoke to these reflections – and beautifully, the narrator is talking about Wisconsin, and in fact – an area near Milwaukee, where Leon and I started our life together, and this lends even more meaning to the words:

“Admittedly, the area possesses a dowdiness I personally have always found comforting, but to think of Wisconsin specifically or the Midwest as a whole as anything other than beautiful is to ignore the extraordinary power of the land. The lushness of the grass and trees in August, the roll of the hills, that rich smell of soil, the evening sunlight over a wheat field, or the crickets chirping at dusk on a residential street: All of it, it has always made me feel at peace. There is room to breathe, there is a realness of place. The seasons are extreme, but they pass and return, pass and return, and the world seems far steadier than it does from the vantage point of a coastal city. … the Midwest: It is quietly lovely, not preening with the need to have its attributes remarked on. It is the place I am calmest and most myself.”

To dear readers on the coasts, this passage and the emotion connected to it probably seems perfectly provincial. But sitting in my backroom office, with the window open and the late summer sounds surrounding me – it feels just right.

The Stroll.

2008-09-16T21:55:00.001-04:00

Tonight, walking along the quaint quiet of historic Main Street in my hometown, with Sydney cooing, gurgling, and laughing and the late summer nighttime sounds serenading us – I was so incredibly, totally, and unabashedly happy that I could feel that amazing buoyancy that comes from deep within. It’s the kind of emotion that absolutely cannot be planned, recreated, or fully expressed; and always seems to overtake me when I am least expecting it – which makes me treasure the momentary surge all the more.

Said simply, it is a feeling of complete.

Picasso’s coffee in hand. The smells of delicious concoctions from the sweet shop tempting us; we strolled along unhurried and unburdened. Being greeted by name as we wandered past our long-time salon created that comfortable, casual sense of being among your own. Joining Papa and Grandma for a glass of wine at their familiar, favorite family-owned Italian restaurant was effortless and meaningful all at the same time. And hearing Gershwin’s Concerto in F on the radio coming through an open apartment window; well, that just added a certain sense of class to the entire stroll along the street.

All of it combined to blend a perfect chord.

And I just can’t express how solid, eloquent, and necessary it all felt to this rookie, uncertain Mom, new employee, slightly overtired spouse, and almost-middle-aged woman.

We all need moments of melodic margin in our lives, and tonight was that necessary, normal, unsolicited space I needed.

Nanny.

2008-09-06T22:05:00.004-04:00

There's just something about generations ... I've been waiting to share this beautiful little clip for some time - we shot this footage while in Colorado this past July to visit Leon's family.

I finally have a wonderful new home computer, where I can play with all of my videos!

Here, Leon's grandmother, "Nanny" Jameson, meets her great-granddaughter for the first time. We think it's just a beautiful moment. Nanny is in her "mature" 80s. We love her tons and enjoy her so much!

my brother-in-law might not like this decision

2008-08-30T10:50:00.002-04:00

So, a few posts back I shared that my birthday present was a brand new Cusinart blender/food processor. And yes, I suppose it “says” something about Leon and me that I was so totally jazzed to receive this most excellent culinary gift!

But there was more to my present and it arrived yesterday – my brand new, Brett Favre Jets jersey.

That’s right. I wanted one, and despite my husband’s mockery of mommy’s silly interest in this item, my darling daughter got herself online and ordered one for me!

I’m not a Green Bay fan, even though I lived in the great state of Wisconsin for four years in my early teaching career. And I’ve not been particularly interested in Brett, until recently that is.

When Brett decided he had changed his mind, and wanted to return to the career and game he loved – I decided I liked this guy. People make mistakes and people change their mind – and I rather admire someone who is willing to admit that and - quite realistically – take a risk of having a terrible season and being totally blasted by the sports media.

In some ways, I suppose he has the proverbial “nothing” to lose, and in other ways, he stands to lose a great deal. Interesting.

So, this season, with the exception of the one game where the Jets will play Denver and I am required in the interest of keeping peace in the home to wear my pink (that’s right, pink!) Champ Bailey jersey, I am rooting for Brett Favre. Not necessarily the Jets ;-)

Silly? Maybe. Probably.

But I am sorta excited to see how the story plays out. And I really like this jersey – it matches my hair color and eyes …

my super bowl

2008-08-29T20:56:00.002-04:00

Or, why I love politics

Tonight I am camped out on my sofa, with a really superb glass of merlot and my favorite Chinese takeout, waiting to watch the acceptance speech of presidential candidate, Barack Obama. I am exceptionally geared-up for this speech (and if you are stridently opposed to Barack, just let me share my blog! Thanks!)

And – truth be told - I am not ashamed to admit that I am very much excited by the “moment.” After all, I can’t name a time when I have seen 85,000 Americans of all colors and ages gathered and truly excited about being part of our great process. The former American history teacher in me, who always harped on her students to get involved, believe they had a voice, and genuinely encouraged them to “participate! participate! participate!” is pretty jazzed about what’s playing out in Denver tonight.

Yep. That’s right. I am engaged and enthusiastic to see tens of thousands of Americans gathered together to engage in the political process. I am proud to be an American and I refuse to be jaded, cynical, or mean-spirited about it. (I am also fairly bright, and aware of the issues and well-read on both party platforms … so before judging me too harshly or deciding I am some naïve, poorly informed voter, think again ;-)

Yes. I love the process, the debates, and the well-mannered challenge. Back in college, I started out as a Poli Sci. major. As a classroom educator, I loved teaching students the finer points of U.S. History and watching them engage in the passion of our history and our politics. I loved teaching anything prior to 1963. Would you like to know why? Because after that time, a deep, jaded, cynical, doubt crept into the American political spirit – and we haven’t shaken it yet. But something is stirring.

I love being an American. And I love the varied depth of our people. Campaigns at the grassroots are powerful, and expansive, and engaging, and – frankly – fun. And in just a few moments, an unlikely candidate will accept the nomination for one of our major political parties riding the wave of grassroots support. It’s remarkable. He is the first African American candidate – and listening to a pair of young black men speak on a street corner in New Orleans two days ago, it struck me that – Republican or Democrat or Independent – I am proud of our people, because it’s about time.

Next week, the energy continues and I will tune in to the events in Minneapolis with as much vim and vigor. These few weeks of politicking are my Super Bowl, you might say. And at the heart of it all, for me, is a profound respect and appreciation for our democratic ideal. How excellent to participate.

A few thoughts ...

“It is that American spirit, that American promise, that pushes us forward even when the path is uncertain; that binds us together in spite of our differences; that makes us fix our eye not on what is seen, but what is unseen, that better place around the bend.

That promise is our greatest inheritance. It's a promise I make to my daughters when I tuck them in at night and a promise that you make to yours, a promise that has led immigrants to cross oceans and pioneers to travel west, a promise that led workers to picket lines and women to reach for the ballot.

And it is that promise that, 45 years ago today, brought Americans from every corner of this land to stand together on a Mall in Washington, before Lincoln's Memorial, and hear a young preacher from Georgia speak of his dream.

The men and women who gathered there could've heard many things. They could've heard words of anger and discord. They could've been told to succumb to the fear and frustrations of so many dreams deferred.

But what the people heard instead -- people of every creed and color, from every walk of life -- is that, in America, our destiny is inextricably linked, that together our dreams can be one.

"We cannot walk alone," the preacher cried. "And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back."

America, we cannot turn back... not with so much work to be done; not with so many children to educate, and so many veterans to care for; not with an economy to fix, and cities to rebuild, and farms to save; not with so many families to protect and so many lives to mend.

America, we cannot turn back. We cannot walk alone.”

blenders and boxes

2008-08-19T21:44:00.005-04:00

I have been lax in my posting - participating as a respondent for the 2008 LCMS Theological Convocation here in STL, which has been a singularly draining experience that is eating loads of hours and grey matter, let me tell you! Today, I provided my response to the group - it went well. Maybe, if I get brave, I will post it here.

For now, just a brief update - even though there is so much I could share: birthdays, and being asked to be Godparents for our dear friends who are (at long last and as an answer to years of prayers) adopting a sweet baby, and time home single-mommying Syd while Leon was away at a DCE leadership event, Syd's first tooth, and first days at her new caregivers, a new grad class for Gret ... all kinds of things happening that are (in my estimation any way) blog-worthy.

But - it's enough to share a few photos and share a great joy: My birthday gift from Leon meant a Cuisinart blender/food processor for me and a box for Miss Sydney ... ah, it's the little things in life!

+Onward and Upward!

"and the whole world smiles with you."

2008-08-10T22:33:00.002-04:00

I recently read an article that suggested a pretty obvious tactic to allow a person to encounter more joy in life: engage in extroverted engagement with the people you meet in the chance encounters of routine living. You know, smile at the green grocer, or help an old lady across the street, that sort of thing.

The expert (at least I assume he was such …) cited research to suggest that people experience massive mood “upswings” when they take time to simply engage in pleasant (dare I say, simply polite?) exchange with others.

How very American to make something that’s really about others to be all about self …

But the author discussed how making the choice to be happy and to smile, speak a kind word (not just brush past the Cub scout selling entertainment books in the strip mall parking lot, but actually stop and say hello and ask him about his troop) makes a difference for you. And, as we all know, certainly for the other.

In a keynote address I recently heard, Thom Schultz discussed the Gospel truth that the only thing that really moves people, breaks down barriers, and heals all hurts is unconditional love.

Now, do I love the green grocer, the old lady at the curb, the cub scout?

I guess I should, eh? Love my neighbor and all that … but I am telling you, taking the time to do this changes people. It changes you! It leaves you with this sort of weightless happiness in your chest, and the sense that the world is perhaps not as awful as some would have us worry.

What makes me sad in this, is that lately – the encouragement to do good to others, love my neighbor, and live as a Good Samaritan has come largely from secular sources. Unfortunately, right now (particularly in the LCMS) there seems to be a predominance of sneery, sarcastic, jaded attitude that is sort of tiring me out!

While I love the new U.S. Cellular ad, for example, it makes me sad that the world is being uplifted with the message of “We believe” in … what? CELL phone coverage? Really? Mobile phone coverage? That is the force that changes the world?

Huh. Interesting.

The Christian church has much to say about the "let’s all be nice and feel good about ourselves" mantra. Again, it’s so American to make something that is actually about the other, and more than that about our God, to become all about the “me.” The truth is, there is something in a smile. There is something in the smile of a Christian. Something in the kind word. The helpful tip. The welcoming attitude. The unexpected gentleness. And it’s a great deal more lasting than “more bars in more places." (I'm mixing my brands, but you get the gist.)

So: if you haven’t been particularly thoughtful to a stranger, if extroverted exuberance is just “not your style”, if you feel more caustic than called – take up the challenge to try out a different tactic this week.

Because there is Something in a smile that can change the world – and beautifully, it’s absolutely not about us!

+ so glad +

2008-08-05T21:07:00.005-04:00

You have to read the previous post and the comments from women so dear to totally appreciate this post ;) So please, dear reader, take a moment to do so ...

What awesome, amazing women God has put into my life. Wow. I am so humbled by your thoughts and moved by your encouragement ... In truth, we need to share, and be honest, and speak our words of doubt AND share our words of affirmation to one another.

There is a scene in Desperate Housewives, and while, OKAY, I am NOT addicted to Sydney's A.D.D. medication, this scene with career Mom Lynette sharing her struggles has always stuck with me ...

"we need to tell each other this (meaning our struggles) stuff" ... And indeed, we do.

Take a look:

Letting go.

2008-08-04T21:42:00.002-04:00

I have always been a little bit weird about my need to control things. Of course, up until recently, I would not have really admitted to that. But, in truth, I have always clung fairly fiercely to "the known" elements in my life.

That's not to say I have shunned the unknown; in fact sort of the opposite is true. I've taken some pretty risky, stupid, brilliant, insipid, random, and all-together inspired choices over the last years. I won't go into those here, or anywhere frankly, (what did my good friend, Florian recently call all of this cyber-relating ... a Soul Striptease ... Yeah, well - not for this girl!) but I've always taken my risks while keeping the known firmly in view; easily within reach. Diving into the deep end with the side of the pool close at hand and a big pair of floaties on my arms. I'm smart, if nothing else, about the long term.

Sydney's introduction into my life has me reshaping all sorts of preconceived ideas about life, self, success, and identity. And control. I am daily recognizing my absolute lack of any real control and it's all a bit unnerving.

It's sort of painfully obvious and therefore embarrassing (but hopefully none too surprising) to admit that it has taken a 6-month old Baby Girl to start ridding me of pretty deep seated selfishness, pride, and ego ... but it's true. Even typing that onto the screen has left me staring for a moment at a blinking cursor.

(I mean, do I really want to say this out loud? Hopefully, I am not alone.)

I am constantly processing, analyzing, reflecting on, and redefining conclusions about myself, which is –admittedly – a pretty self-involved thing to be doing. In the midst of all of this, however, the clarity of my own lack of control, and the life's work I seem to have made out of my prolonged, stupid, selfish pursuit of control, has been as brilliant as lightening.

One of the big pieces that constantly comes into view is the daily process of letting go.

Being a mom, and uniquely being a working mom, brings with it a daily surrender of self. Now, I can just picture stay-at-home, single career moms sort of considering that remark as the penultimate justification for my decision to leave Sydney every day for 9 hours. ... And maybe that's part of it. But I have to speak from my perspective ... it’s all I know.

In all truth, being a working mom means - if you are doing it "right" (and what is that, anyway?) - pretty much zero time for self. ... And most days that's okay. But some days, it's hard. And it's upsetting. And you want to be selfish and claim time for yourself; just an hour or maybe just 10 minutes. Or you want to point the finger at your spouse and tell him to make more money. Or you are ticked because you can’t shake the worry of guilt because you like your job, and the personal opportunity it offers for connecting you to some lingering remnant of “who you used to be.” Or you find yourself irritated because no one seems to notice how hard you are working each and every day to be 100% top-notch at the office and at home ... and just how mind-numbingly, bone tired you are at the end of another day of all of striving.

And at the heart of it, you know all of your annoyances are really borne, not out of the reality of your situation, but out of your sinful, insane self. The finger points right at you - you can't blame anyone at all ..

Over these last 6 months, I have never been far from the reality that surrender is what is required to be – at least marginally – “good” at parenting. I think about it all of the time. And achieving sort of a zen-contentment with it all is my daily supplication. As a mom. As a Christian. As a centered, in-tune person ... It is absolutely not "about me." It's not entirely about Sydney, either - trust me, the last thing I want is to raise her coddled and spoiled. It's all about choices, God-blessed and directed daily living. Choices to let go, to give up your sense of self to be a better mom, wife, and - frankly - just a better YOU.

There's balance that must be struck ... in control because you grasp with total clarity your absolute lack of it. Filled with a defined purpose and identity, while surrendering your own right to claim any such thing. Learning to give and give and give, without expecting one iota of return, and realizing that claiming that attitude yields MORE in return than you could have ever manipulated on your own.

Letting go to find more than you ever could have contrived to create.

So, that's what I am working on ... while I work at the office, while I work at home, while I love my Church through my vocation, while I love my husband and daughter more than I can say ... Trying to control my ability to let it go ...

We'll see how it all works out.

Oh, How the Years Go By ...

2008-07-26T11:59:00.003-04:00

We are experiencing a great few days with Leon's family in Colorado Springs, Co. Mom and Dad Jameson and the whole family out here are so happy to see Baby Girl Sydney, and it touches our hearts to see their joy and happiness just "being" with her. I guess you could say they have spoiled her rotten - but not entirely. They've just taken every opportunity to shower her with love and attention in the few days they have to be one-on-one with her. It's a joy for Leon and I to see.

Last night, Mom and Dad hosted a terrific BBQ (and I think they invited most of the Springs!) to fete their new granddaughter and allow their friends the chance to rejoice with them (and us). Syd was a champ - and really has been a super traveler managing planes and long car rides, altitude and new faces, and sleeping in new places with her trademark contentedness! We even took a mountain walk yesterday and she seemed to marvel at the mountains and unique plants right along with us.

At the BBQ, some of our long-time best friends stopped by! Oddly enough, most of our best friends from college seem to have all made Colorado "home" - and so we spent time with Jeff and Amy Meinz and their brood and Paul and Jackie Roggow and their twin sons (and we have Micah and Amanada Steiner and Tasha and Dan Fingerlin all here in Colorado as well!). What fun it was to laugh and be together with our children - slightly surreal to be sure, but really wonderful!

Here we all are - and I can't help but think that before we know it, we will be posing for a photo just like this one, but our babies will be grown ... Sydney is only just about 7 months old, but already I have this niggling sense that the years will move, move, move and before we know it - she will be old like us ;-) Let's hope we continue to be "in the moment" and drink in these days as slowly as we can!

$pending time ...

2008-07-20T21:23:00.003-04:00

Leon, Sydney, Bailey, and me - we are a little family. We don't take up too much space on this good ol' planet, really. We aren't famous, wealthy, or too, influential. But oh my! Are we big in love and spirit and fun. And we are learning to make the most of the time we have together: evenings, early mornings, and weekends.

I once heard someone say that it's misleading to tell people that you don't "spend" time, but instead you "invest" time ... An investment yeilds more of what was invested. And you can't gain more time no matter what you do. "No," this wise person said, "time is a limited commodity. And we spend it." Sometimes frivolously; often thoughtlessly; rarely wisely. For our little family, we spend our together time fully and completely. We draw every possible value out of every last penny ... er, second ... of time! I love that about us.

As a working mom, I have been living for my weekends with my precious daughter and loving husband. It's been a busy, busy summer with servant events and national youth workers events and all that those events bring ... but now, the insanity is over and "life" should (in theory) be hitting something of a routine.

Huzzah for routine!

This weekend was - what I found myself calling - a vacation weekend. We didn't go anywhere "special", but from Friday afternoon, when I finally hit the door after a week spent editing down at KSDK (fun! but long!) and we made a big pitcher of margaritas, ate one of our fave dishes - toasted walnuts, olive oil and four cheese raviloi (I know - totally doesn't go with margaritas, and we totally didn't care!) - and watched TiVo'ed episodes of The Office, the weekend was a time for our little family to immerse itself in love and nurture and laughter and play!

Saturday morning, Sydney and I walked to our neighborhood coffee house, while Leon played tennis with his buddies. We swam lots in Grandma and Papa's pool and even BBQed on Sunday evening. Leon and I enjoyed wine country with a group of friends celebrating a 25th wedding anniversary. ... We danced in the kitchen with Sydney. We had family tummy time (Bailey, too!) ... I read an entire novel (boo! total terrible ending, but until then a great read!) We planned our vacation for the next year and went over our schedules.

From start to finish, it was a wonderful, relaxing, vibrant weekend.

You know that Switchfoot song that says, "this is your life, are you who you want to be?" Well.

Yes.

Indeed.

What energy this full, big, loving, fun, relaxed weekend gave me. Monday morning? Bring it on!

232 years and counting ...

2008-07-06T21:53:00.011-04:00

I love the 4th of July. I love the picnics, parades, pagentry ... I love gathering with folks from my hometown to "ooh" and "ahh" in collective wonder at fireworks displays that each year seem better than the last. I love that long late night walk back to the car through historic Saint Charles, with the bunting draped off the balconies and front porches of homes that are so grand and old and that seem to exhale deep sighs filled with their own historic perspective.

Usually, each year, I watch "A Capitol Fourth" on PBS, and if I don't watch it live - I TiVo it. (Yes, I am one of those dorky people, I suppose.) And each year, I make my impassioned, "Next year in Washington" toast - of course, I haven't made it there yet ... but one day, I will watch the fireworks from the lawn of the Capitol and wave my Stars and Stripes, embarrass myself by dancing to old time artists who probably ought to have retired years ago (and actually, probably did, but have been lured out to play once more for the forgiving crowd gathered in D.C. ... this year, it was Jerry Lee Lewis), and shed a tear, or two, or twenty as the Marine Corps band plays Sousa's "The Stars and Stripes Forever," and the Boston Pops takes a backseat to the fireworks with its bold performance of the 1812 Overture.

Yup. Someday.

This year found Sydney and I celebrating without Leon - he was on his way home from an uber successful youth servant event. So, we decked out the house, and loaded up enough gear for 20 infants and their moms, and spent the day at Grandma and Papa Staude's house with my sister and her family. Sydney was outfitted in a flag dress, complete with a Fleur de lis bib (I felt this to be the most obvious choice, given how the French assisted us with our victory all those years ago ... see ... a dork ...)

And while my nephew, Gabe, and I worked together on a very special 4th of July themed dessert, it was with great enthusiasm that I explained to Gabe just what makes the 4th so special.

What a wonderful moment (for me at any rate), as we made our own "Stars and Stripes" and debated how best to place the blueberries so as to make it "look like" we made stars, and took notice of the flag out front to get our "strawberry stripes" just right, and talked about why people from England are called British ... We talked about George Washington and "I cannot tell a lie" and the Revolutionary War (boy, I bet that kid was wishing his Auntie wasn't a former history teacher!) ... but it was wonderful, really.

Sunday Leon was home and so we hosted a brunch at our house and then spent the later evening back at Grandma and Papa's playing in the pool. ...

As a working Mom, I deeply treasure my weekends and this holiday weekend was absolutely no exception. I want to draw every drop of Sydney-Mommy-and Daddy time that I can from the few precious days each week when it is "just us." ... Last 4th found me exhasuted and preparing for the Gathering and really too tired to much notice my beloved holiday. This year, I felt invigorated and inspired by the very idea of being a parent and raising my child here in the United States. We have much for which to give thanks, much to be working to correct, much to be challenged by and working for as a country that has been tremendously blessed. I am so proud to be part of that work and I am humbled by the notion of raising a child who is kind, courageous, patriotic, compassionate, independent, and free. What a country for her to know and love.

Happy 4th of July!

The more things change … or what does this song mean?

2008-06-17T21:18:00.003-04:00

This past weekend, I attended my 15th high school class reunion.

15.

As in, 5 more years and it will be 20.

As in, we actually sat and made plans for 20, because (like most adults) we recognize that 5 years really is not that long of a time and in fact seems to be a shorter and shorter time as we all become increasingly busy, busy, busy.

I didn’t attend my 10th reunion, so I actually hadn’t seen many of my former classmates since Graduation Day 1993. Okay, maybe there have been a few rogue sightings here and there, but for the most part – my adult life has been fairly high school friend free. This wasn’t by design or anything. I liked my peers. But my life sort of went a different route when I headed out for Nebraska the August after graduation, and I haven’t had the time to really “look back” since.

We had a very small class, attending Lutheran High in its heyday like we did. 17 classmates get to know one another extremely well over a four year time period. By the time we left the hallowed halls of LHS we knew precisely what made each other tick, and what made each other explode, laugh, cry and, you name it.

The entire experience was thought-provoking. What I have mulled over most is, why do people attend reunions?

Well. I can tell you what was not motivating me ...

I didn’t attend my reunion out of some odd sense of curiosity, although I admit that I was somewhat curious to see where life had taken my old chums. And I didn’t attend with some bizarre and juvenile agenda to prove my worth (isn’t it in Romey and Michelle’s High School Reunion where Mira Sorvino’s character claims to have invented the PostIt?), although I was bestowed with the 1992 Homecoming Superlative for “Most Likely to Succeed”, which is an awfully intimidating title to carry with you into your reunion.

I went … well, why DID I go? I hardly go out at all anymore, so to take the time to get all gussied up, arrange with Papa to Syd-wrangle and head out to Winghaven for J.Bucks on a Saturday night suggests that I was fairly motivated to attend! …

I went because I am sort of weird when it comes to “old times.” You know the tune, Auld Lang Syne … well, the words always make me sort of weepy. That idea of remembering people who meant a great deal to us “way back when” … Of keeping a sense of one's past and the relationships of that past as a vibrant and important treasure in one's future ... or how is it that Harry talks about the song in the movie, When Harry Met Sally, “What does this song mean? My whole life, I don't know what this song means. I mean, 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?”

Yes. Something like that.

Actually Baz Luhrmann says it really well in his well know “Sunscreen Song”:

"Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.”

I think that’s why I went to my high school class reunion. These were people who knew me before. Before what? Well. Before absolutely everything! It was the “me in the rough”, the awkward me, the uncertain me, the me who kinda-sorta-maybe-thought she had the world by the tail, but was scared to death to shake it and find out she wasn’t really all that much to yell about.

For some people, returning to those who knew you before you “were” is probably cause for loads of insecurity because they worry that – maybe – they STILL aren’t. I’m not trying to say I am something – but I’m on the way. (And I hope, dear reader, that you are, too!) And reconnecting with people who walked along the road with me way-back-when adds depth to my still reaching roots. And I like that.

All in all, it was a fun evening. Nothing spectacular, nothing tremendously “significant”, but I won’t forget it. Looking around the table I was truly struck by how we all retain pieces of our younger selves. Yes, we all were different. Older. Grayer. Less hair. More weight. Lots of kids. Career oriented. But I also saw flashes of who we were. Certain group dynamics returned after just a short while. Mannerisms and tones of voice and senses of humor were pretty much intact. It was like this odd out of body experience – with our younger selves hanging back on the fringe of the room watching the older models enjoy a meal together.

And I think we liked what we saw.

The Class of 1993: (from left) Matt Peters, Amy Edinger, Brenda Barbieri, Christine Walsh, Matt Kramer, Erin Trinklein, Jon Frecks, Amy Linnenman, and Gretchen Staude

NPR vs. Pop Hits: Defining the Day at Drive Time

2008-06-02T22:38:00.003-04:00

So, each morning I haul my gear to my trusty MINI Cooper: carefully organized briefcase, purse with cell phone, lunch bag (or if I am feeling particularly flush, a few bills tucked into my side pocket), tumbler with my current Starbucks fave blend (which right now is the bold flavor of Komodo Dragon), security badge … and off I head for the 35-40 minute commute into the city.

In the course of this early AM daily grind, two decisions are made to which I am paying more and more attention as these two decisions seem to predict the day that follows.

First decision: how to get to work?

Am I in the mood to get there quickly – eschewing scenery and willing, even, to spend a few additional, treasured drips of petrol for the faster route? Well then, it's 94 straight up to Interstate 70 and into the heart of the city for me.

OR do I want the moderate route, but shorter mileage? Do I feel okay with starts and stops and patient enough to wait through traffic lights? Well then, Page extension across to 1-70 and into the city via 40 – complete with the beautiful view of morning sun cresting the trees along the edge of Forest Park.

But perhaps, I am looking for the "total experience" – in which case, take the above route, but exit at Kingshighway and wind down Shaw towards my South City destination – taking in the stately townhouses lining the outer limits of the Botanical Gardens, admiring the commitment of the early morning joggers and taking stock of the neighborhood, wondering what it would be like to live “in the city” in a place like this.

Each route is different and my willingness to select it seems to say something about my frame of mind as I begin the day. It’s a simple choice – but a telling one.

Second decision: what to listen to?

Most people don't know this about me, but I actually dislike being asked about my “favorite” music – or really my favorite anything for that matter. It all depends! Most mornings, it’s NPR. I like listening to NPR. Like most Americans who enjoy the programming, I enjoy being informed, but - again like most Americans who tune in - I secretly like to feel smart. And NPR is smart radio. So on many mornings, it's Steve Inskeep for me … news with Carl Kassel … etc.

Other mornings, it’s NPR at the top of the hour for the news from Washington and then it’s a mad channel surf through pop radio – with the top 40 turned up loud and vibrant. And let me tell you, I've given some fantastic pop performances behind the wheel of that MINI!

And sometimes it’s a favorite CD, carefully and deliberately selected before I leave the house – Josh Groban or Amy Grant or Harry Connick or Preservation Hall jazz or … And there’s doubtless a method to the madness of these choices as well.

And some days. There is just. Silence.

I can’t help but notice how these two seemingly innocuous, routine decisions have a fortune cookie like prescience about how the day unfolds. I’m left wondering, could I make a different, deliberate choice to force the day? Let’s say I am feeling stodgy and direct (natural choices would be NPR and the direct route to the office), could I force upbeat and whimsical (electing for let’s say an old CD from the 1990s and the Shaw Blvd drive)?

I don’t think it would work.

Maybe it all means relatively little. But it’s been an intriguing pattern to “just notice” … and I doubt I am alone. Basic choices influencing basic attitudes. Not necessarily a “new” concept here, but fun to consider.

Hmmm. I wonder what would happen if I rode my bike and listened to folk tunes?

"it"

2008-05-26T21:51:00.000-04:00

This weekend has been a great weekend. I have had time to simply be with my husband and daughter. We’ve taken long walks, snuggled together, watched sort of pointless movies, eaten our favorite foods, socialized with friends at numerous graduation parties, and even found time for a nap here and there and a trip to Hobby Lobby.

Life, as we’ve known it, has become much, much different. In no small degree, Sydney’s advent into our lives has actually given us the permission that we needed to just slow down a bit and take it all in … it being the proverbial “moment.”

Missing the moment is a hazard of living I guess. Certainly life as a teacher followed by life working at the YMO contributed to a sense of rather frantic living – constantly pressing, planning and preparing for the next momentous occasion. As a child and as a student, I was forever waiting for the next big project, holiday, class outing or special event. As a teacher, I lived life bell-to-bell, break-to-break, and lesson plan-to-lesson plan. My professional life over the last six years has been gears up toward the enormity of the National Youth Gathering. So, in my new context of parenthood and professional life, it is a pretty novel experience to being living life recognizing that (and I don’t mean for this to sound pitiful) this is pretty much “it.” Waking and living and working and playing and caring and cooking and laughing and … this is LIFE.

And, is it wrong to say this so boldly, I like it very much.

There are moments when I am giving Syd her evening bath, or chopping veggies for some yummy dinner concoction, or simply enjoying the evening (like I am now, clicking away on my keyboard while Leon stretches out and watches ESPN) and I stop – breathe – and take “it” all in. This living of life in ordinary moments. And I think, “Wow. I like it very much.”

And so as a new week begins and our first real holiday weekend as a young family (and yes, I know that Easter was tucked in there … but we were still too foggy headed and sleep deprived to appreciate it much) draws to its close, I think Leon and I would say: it is indeed a wonderful life and we like it, very, very much indeed.

... our date night with indy ...

2008-05-24T09:29:00.002-04:00

Last night, Leon and I enjoyed our first, real "date" :) Sure, we've been out and about, but this was a bonafide, let's arrange care (thanks Grammy and Papa) and let's hit the movies kind of event. All day long I was thinking about buttered popcorn and Indiana Jones! Woohoo. My sister posted a great recap of the film and you can read our thoughts at her blog as well!

“Safety Clown Says” … or, today was just a great day!

2008-05-18T13:23:00.003-04:00

A few years ago, as the ice cream truck circled our neighborhood, Leon and I had a conversation about how slightly creepy and sort of Hameln-esque we found ice cream trucks.

Sure, back when we were kids the ice cream truck was exciting enough. Deep in the heat of summer, you would hear that alluring bell; run to your room to scrounge your pocket change together and then indulge in a syrupy sweet bomb pop, or an orange dreamsicle, or those really tasty strawberry shortcake bars and – if you were like most kids – you enjoyed every sticky faced moment of sugary bliss; but then you grew up and moved on to more sophisticated ice cream treats. And the neighborhood ice cream truck with its clanging bell and music-box soundtrack was forgotten.

Well, like so many other things these days, Leon and I have reevaluated our “oh-so-grown-up” attitudes toward the neighborhood ice cream truck.

Before I get to that, let me just say that today was an absolutely show-stopping day. I woke up with the birds at 5AM, but was content to dose with a sleepy smile on my face until I heard Miss Sydney at 6:45AM. (Actually, truth be told, I was waiting to hear her. Saturday mornings have become family snuggle time, and I honestly just could not wait for her to wake up. I know, I know – someday SHE will be the one waking us up at 6AM for cartoons and cereal, but now it’s my eagerness that wakes me up early!)

Finally, I heard it – just the hint of a nerfing around sound – and we were able to enjoy snuggle time, smile time , genuine happy, babbling, let’s-bother-daddy time.

And the day began.

The best part of the morning was packing up our gear and heading to our local nursery, Daniel’s Farm. We love Daniel’s. We buy all of our plants there: our herbs, our hanging baskets, and in the wintertime – our Christmas tree. It’s a family run farm with 15 greenhouses and we enjoy the owners, who always work the counter and are generous and willing to put up with me and the lists of odd plants that I bring with me, most usually discovered from garden plots I find in MidWest Living.

Sydney and I went to Daniel’s together. She “rode” in her snazzy front carrier. Sydney is very much into smells and colors these days – so the herb house was awesome fun, and she also proved a great help in selecting the pansies we took home. Hauling our treasures out to the truck, a kind older woman took pity on me with my pull-cart, infant, bag of soil, car seat, full-tray of herbs, diaper bag … etc. Her help put a smile on my face and convinced me yet again that people are often far kinder than we dare to imagine.

We headed home. Sydney napped. I gardened.

The day progressed, one content moment after another; nothing fancy or spectacular, just peaceful, calm and infinitely memorable.

Early evening found us enjoying a family walk at Laurel Park. We stopped and watched a family flying a kite and listened to the laughter of the man and his daughter. We caught up on our feelings, worries, concerns and joys … and when we heard the clang, clang of our younger years, Leon dashed for the truck to find his baggie of spare coins and we hailed the ice cream truck, picked out our familiar favorites (wow, prices have certainly gone up!) and our walk became this awesome combination of new family centeredness combined with yesteryear memories. It was pure bliss – those sticky fingers, I even managed (no surprise here) to drip orange dreamsicle all over my shorts! We laughed our heads off and discussed the finer merits of the modest offerings of the ice cream man (the menu hasn’t changed much in 20 years) and considered what a completely terrific Saturday evening we were having: ourselves, our baby, a beautiful park, our new stroller and the ice cream man.

Talk about enjoying the simple life.

Worry.

2008-05-09T21:46:00.004-04:00

Worry.

Worry is a powerful thing.

Anxiety is probably my worst enemy in life. Sure, I worry about things that normal people worry about, but most often, I worry about things I fully recognize I absolutely cannot control, which is more than disturbingly neurotic. I even worry about how much I worry. And this worry seeps into my down time, my resting time, my prayer time, and my commuting time. In fact, just about the only time I am able to shut out worry and anxiety is when I work.

So, I work … a lot.

In college, I would take more courses, read more books, study more hours and write extra papers. As a “grown-up”, I do more emailing, write more strategies, develop more angles to projects already on the docket … etc. etc. etc.

Things always look better in the morning light, and most of my worrying starts at night. So, since it’s 8:38 on a Saturday night, bear with me.

Currently, I have been worrying a great deal about my vocational life. Making the big move from Youth Ministry (a place I loved and a mission about which I was passionate) to my new role at the Publishing House (where – although yes, I have a passion for the mission, I haven’t been working long enough to know if I love it or not) has been a bit of a sleep-depriver for the last three weeks.

But, today, all that worry was well and truly trounced by a new, monster anxiety – for our little Sydney.

Today, Sydney was officially diagnosed with a condition called positional plagiocephaly. In addition to learning to spell plagiocephaly without requiring a spell check – the past few days have been fraught with mind-numbing moments of concern followed by mind buzzing moments where I generate more questions than any Mommy should be allowed to ask. We have come to learn that plagiocephaly is especially common in babies who are born breech (which, as faithful readers know, was very much our reality with Miss Sydney Grace, starting back at 24 weeks of pregnancy and lasting until her surprise early arrival at the end). After x-rays and consultations at Children’s Hospital, we have learned that Sydney’s condition is not the more serious condition, craniosynostosis, that would require surgery, and we have learned that we have an array of treatment options to consider.

We have learned that we are not bad parents (though I am having a really tough time not blaming myself entirely) and that even though we have done tummy time, and repositioned her sleeping positions, etc. etc., this condition is very common given her early birth and her “I like to hang out breech” reality. Overall, we should be (and really are) really thankful. After all, today as I sat there in the radiology department at Children’s, I saw many, many Mommies and Daddies with many more reasons to be worried than our little family.

The thing I am worrying about is this: am I doing the “right” things for Sydney? I work. Is that a good decision? I’m not home to watch her 24-hours each day. I can’t guarantee that her head isn’t turned left too many hours (we have EXCELLENT women watching our precious baby …). Have I spent enough time playing and holding her? Am I to blame? And what if the treatment option we decide to use doesn’t correct the problem? I don’t want to fail her.

That’s the root of it all. I don’t want to fail Sydney. Not now. Not ever.

And the reality, as we all know it, is that I will. Actually, the reality is that I already have. And at some point, the Gretchen-who-hates-to-let-people-down is going to have to get over the fact that she is less than perfect. It’s not that I don’t “get” this. But it’s time to really, really get it, or else I have this sneaking suspicion that I am going to miss a whole lot of genuine, authentic opportunities to be comfortable with being the Mom I Just Am, as opposed to the Mom I Am Obsessed with Trying to Be.

And, maybe I am wrong about this, I think that Mom I Just Am is going to enjoy life a whole, heck of a lot more.

My friend, Lori is forever telling me to give myself some permission to go easy on myself. And you know what, she’s right. If I have any hope of being the “best” kind of Mom for Sydney, I need to whole-heartedly embrace that I am often going to be the worst and – rather than dwelling in that and rolling around in my own absurd and ridiculous pity party – LET IT GO!

So. Depending on what we decide, you all might see some fun photos of our little Miss Syd wearing her super cool new ‘DOCband’ helmet … and I hope that you’ll all cheer along with us as our little bug gets her noggin back in shape. Hers is external; here’s to hoping that Mom gets her internal noggin back in shape right along with her.

Do they make that helmet in the adult size?

... dearest Jesus +

2008-04-30T21:06:00.003-04:00

Every evening, we end our bedtime routine with Sydney by praying over her the prayer I grew up saying. My sister and I were blessed to grow up in a home rich with love and nurture. We were “tucked in” each and every night.

Actually, I can vividly recall the night some time in the mid-teenager years when I bravely (and in my mind oh-so-maturely) told my Dad and Mom that I was “okay” on my own.

I went into my bedroom. Closed the door; and laid there in the darkness listening to the whir of the ceiling fan, wishing I could somehow call out to my parents to come say goodnight and pray with me, while still preserving my sense of teenage independence. After that “Wendy-leaving-the-nursery” moment, I routinely invited Mom and Dad to still come say goodnight. Not every night, but enough to keep the ritual alive and well.

It was something of a tender and inexpressible joy to teach my husband this child’s prayer. He asked me to repeat each phrase again and again until he had it down pat. As we place our hands on our little baby each night and pray to our Heavenly Father, I can’t help but be moved. People who know me well are not surprised by this reflection; I have always been a “rooted” person. Sharing a bedtime prayer from my childhood with my child is a moment rich with heritage, constancy and tradition. Sharing this prayer reminds me of the blessings of my youth and the grace with which my parents raised me.

This prayer is yet my own and its tender simplicity has become a source of rich reflection over these last 16-weeks of new parenthood.

The prayer is this:

Dearest Jesus, wash away
all that has been wrong today.
Help me every day to be
good and gentle, more like thee.

Thus far, being a Mommy has revealed me to be a far better and far worse person than I knew I was. Far better in that I have discovered patience, which I never thought I possessed. I have encountered contentment, without the exhausting pursuit of perfection. I am learning that I have the capacity to be better and more comfortable and more relaxed in my own skin – something I have worked on all my life. And all it took was the arrival of a tiny creature so immensely beyond my ability to control and BAM, I feel calm.

As for the far worse … It has become patently obvious that: I am selfish. I am easily irritated at my dear husband. I am critical and impatient when the “routine” is not followed. And for some unexplainable reason, my faults seem amplified now that I realize there are little eyes watching. It’s unnerving.

And so, each night the words “wash away all that has been wrong today” strike a deep chord in me; and the hope to be “good and gentle more like thee” has new meaning as well.

I don’t know where my parents learned this prayer. I did a little Googling and found it as the second verse of an old German hymn, "Now the Light Has Gone Away" by Frances R. Havergal, 1836-1879, and there the first words are “Jesus Savior …” My Dad was raised in an extremely German home and I am guessing this came to our family through those channels, I don’t know.

Perhaps now that I am grown, I can add a verse or two to this simple prayer. It seems to me that nurturing devotion to the Father through prayer and song and Word will provide me and Leon with new and fresh and vibrant understanding about how we can better love Sydney. Our love for her is a direct overflowing of our love for Jesus … The hymn actually offers this idea in prayerful verse and concludes:

Thou, my best and kindest Friend,
Thou wilt love me to the end.
Let me love Thee more and more,
Always better than before.

This is a fitting prayer for our life with Jesus and our love for Sydney.

Simple? Sure.

True. Most assuredly.

+ centered +

2008-04-26T17:13:00.017-04:00

As many of you know, I started a new job at Concordia Publishing House this week, which is to say the Jameson family started a new job this week. The experience was something like the first day of school. For five straight days.

That's sort of how life has felt for months now, truth be told.

To say its been a fairly hectic few days would certainly be an understatement. It's not that the hours were exceedingly long or the job exceedingly stressful; it was just NEW. After 10-years of marriage, six years at the International Center, and 15-weeks as a new, young family, this week was a departure from "our norm". (Whatever that is!) And we found ourselves muddling through with some success, some stress, some late nights, and several early mornings. Nothing felt "normal", routine or typical; and certainly nothing was boring, average or ordinary.

What has proved most intriguing this week has been that our family time has become the most sane, most low-key and most necessary experience in the midst of all of this change. Life with Sydney is the newest and most unpredictable part of our day. Yet it was when we were finally home together at the end of work and commuting and coaching tennis and worrying over the multitude of mundane daily "to-dos" that we found ourselves most at peace, most content and certainly most restored to get up and do it all again the next morning.

Every day with Sydney brings with it some incredible new moment. Just the reality that her physical self is never the same from day to day is amazing. She is continually growing, striving, reaching and developing right before our eyes. A new job with new co-workers and new challenges doesn't hold a candle to the changes that Sydney has brought into our lives, but somehow the upheaval on the home front is actually a calming, reassuring thing. Coming home to Sydney doesn't feel exhausting or overwhelming. Instead, after a day of the unfamiliar, her familiar, chaotic presence is something we crave. It puts everything else into brilliant, obvious perspective.

Our desire to be fully present in our moments with Sydney is essential to us. Together, Leon and I drink in our new, burgeoning sense of "family"deeply and with gratitude. We pour our hearts into our at-home time; energy and joy and enthusiasm we have long expended elsewhere is now fueling our own home. It is difficult to fully express how this surge of investment feels and how it is changing us.

So ~ this week was definitely new and overwhelming and insane and fun and extremely unpredictable. But in the midst of all of that was Sydney. And Leon. And me. And even Bailey. And our brand new, God-granted family proved the center that held it all together.

How incredible is that?

Remembrances of Chet and Irene ...

2008-04-18T21:29:00.007-04:00

When I was a girl, few things thrilled like a visit from our out-of-town relatives, especially a visit from Grandma and Grandpa Staude. Perhaps it was because it happened so rarely ~ they far preferred staying home on the farm in Saint Joe, MI, and we were more than happy to visit them there. But a few times, usually in the early fall after the grape harvest was complete, Grandma and Grandpa made the drive to Saint Louis to see us. We would be excited for days before their visit. When "the day" would finally arrive, my sister and I were overwhelmed with anticipation! The school day simply crawled by as we grew more and more excited (and pity our poor parents who had to answer again and again, "What time will they be here?!").

Finally, we would be home ~ waiting at the front window, watching ... watching ... and then! we would see them! Now that I am a grown-up, and recognize how strangely tiring it is drive across the country, I simply can't imagine how my grandparents managed to keep pace with us as we hurtled ourselves out of the front door and down the lawn to meet them before they had more than one foot out of the car!

Grandparents coming to visit were a very big deal, indeed!

This weekend, Sydney's Nanny Jameson is here to visit. Watching her tenderly love on and coo over her baby granddaughter, I am coming to understand how my Grandparents found the energy to love on us even after long hours of travel. Her gasp of joy, mingled with just a little wistfulness as she saw her little Sydney (who was taking a nap, of course!) for the first time in 2-months, touched my heart. And Sydney, even as young as she is, seems keenly aware that she has the undivided attention of our house guest. Nanny played and held and fed and rocked and bathed and snuggled with Sydney ~ and she's only been here since 2:30 this afternoon! She came bearing gifts in a suitcase bigger than the MINI and probably wants to stay forever! Sydney is blessed indeed, even only 15-weeks old, to have Nanny come to visit. (Grandad Jameson, we know you are reading this and are here in spirit! Next time!)

I feel thankful that my daughter has the blessing of something I did not have (and isn't that the sort of thing so many of us want for our children?). She has doting grandparents here in town, who are part of her "every day" moments, which is a relationship I never knew. And she also has the blessing of "far away" grandparents, whose special visits become a source of such excitement and "spoiling" and fun that you just can't wait and you never want them to end.

Sydney has both and as hard as it is for Nanny and Grandad Jameson to live so far away, we want them to know that they have a special role in Sydney's life and we love it when they are here!

What a weekend lies ahead!

... kick me ...

2008-04-09T19:26:00.006-04:00

A fabulous commentary ran this morning on NPR. If you're not a fan of FRANK DEFORD, you should be. This morning's piece, "Sweetness and Light" suggests that perhaps the Olympic Games have run their course in our contemporary, global experience ... it's a good read, but a better listen. CLICK HERE and give Deford's piece some consideration (at the very least, I learned that the Olympic torch was the brain child of Nazi Germany ... interesting, and makes it ~ as a symbol ~ lose just a bit of its mystique ... at least for this idealist.)

... leftover chinese and a velour track suit ...

2008-04-05T19:46:00.006-04:00

... Sydney has drifted off in her bouncy seat (after loads of spit up, laughter and involved playing ...) Bailey is similarily cashed out; his movement restricted to the towels by the back door (as a result of his exceedingly spring-muddy paws!), and in this quiet interlude, I am racing to heat up 3-day old cashew chicken, pour a glass of my dad's Rolling Meadows Niagara wine and switch from Seinfeld re-runs to WE's scheduled movie, Must Love Dogs ... (or maybe it's playing on Oxygen? Whatever.) I read the book years ago, but never saw the movie, so this is mighty exciting Saturday-night-romantic-comedy-stuff!

ANYway.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, it occurs to me that I am far too excited about a bowl of leftovers (the caloric content of which doubtless renders obsolete this afternoon's 3-mile tread mill run)and a lonely evening at home. Here's what's up: Leon is at Trivia Night, an annual occassion that I normally attend with great enthusiasm. However, this year is a "break" for me. Sort of. At any rate, he's there. I'm home. And I'm looking forward to the rest of the evening ...

I suppose that I could get all sad and morose that nobody invited me to join a table (I am, after all, one of those overly sensitive-analytical people ... "what does this mean?" I ask. Probably nothing, but my over-sensitive self wants to make it mean something, when (hopefully)in reality people are probably thinking, "she has a baby". Actually, in reality, people probably aren't thinking at all! I am hardly that important! ... Besides, and may I be sour-grapes for just a moment, I am not a massive fan of Trivia Nights. I always feel like I should know the answers to the bizarre questions, and rarely do. I hate the sports round. In all honesty, I really go for the food and the wine!)

I digress.

The truth is, this totally comfortable, homebody evening comes as a complete reward after what can only be described as a really, really heinous and looooong week. Work stress, new job stress, new mom stress ... and too little sleep. (Ironically, my lack of sleep these days has nothing whatsoever to do with Sydney and everything to do with my own inability to "let it go ...", the proverbial "it" being a whole wealth of stupid stresses that are really not as big a deal as my late night worrying makes them!)All of this has left me craving the quiet of home and the comfort of my favorite velour track suit.

Comfort foods. Comfort clothes. And isn't it funny ~ the "newest" part of our life (that being Miss Sydney) feels like the absolute most comfort of all in the chaos that is "grown-up" life.

Easter! In the FRONT ROW

2008-03-23T19:50:00.016-04:00

Today is Easter.

Our first official holiday as parents; which is of tremendous significance. I think. My mind is fuzzy.

Wow. We are totally exhausted and Syd wasn't even up before the sun searching for an Easter basket. We were though, whew.

(Not searching for an Easter basket … up before the sun … see, we ARE tired!)

Leon gave his traditional Easter "Kid Talk" (he calls today the "Super Bowl of Kid Talks"); Sydney and I made it to 8 o'clock church in the snow (yes, it was snowing!), decked out in our spit-free, new duds (Mommy only had to dress and redress Syd twice. Thankfully, Sydney found this process hilarious and giggled the entire time as Mommy attempted to pull her little head through the voluminous layers of her too cool dress ... this was appreciated since typically she yells as if being divested of her skin, not her clothes.).

At worship, we sat quietly in the FRONT row (that's right, Daddy saved seats in the FRONT ROW ... nice, with the entire choir staring at us!) and appreciated the "big" music (orchestra, choir ... big tympani is always fun with an 11-week old!).

For dinner, we ate lamb (yum-o for an Emeril recipe) and delicious carrot cake (Mommy and Papa Staude were back in solid form after the last two holidays, when Mommy was on bed rest) and crashed out with Gammy and Papa and watched the Swiss Family Robinson (which Gret had never seen; and halfway through, sleep-deprived Gret says, "Why do they keep referencing the Alps and such ..." ... "Uh. Cause they're SWISS." ... "OHHH, SWISS!" says Gret) ...

It's been a good day. What's on the Hallmark channel tonight? We're planning to head for the hay when Syd does.

Whew.

And next year we have to hide eggs. And find them. And prepare a basket. And hide THAT.

Truthfully, I can't wait!

Make a free ecard - it's easy!

I Just Don't Wanna ...

2008-03-23T19:47:00.000-04:00

Lately, there seems to be loads of blog-worthy life action happening here at Chez Jameson. Countless times, I have caught myself pondering something meaningful, or silly, or mundane, or profound (at least in my estimation). From whether or not there should be a “redo” primary in Michigan (why can’t we FOLLOW rules, people?) to what makes me love Hannah Montana (sad, but true), to the awesome conversation about female modesty I had with a group of 17-year-olds a few nights ago … there is lots to consider and (shocker here) lots to preach about …

Where are all these essays on life, you may wonder? I mean, my blog is hardly jam packed these days with long tomes that hold forth on these and other meaningful topics …

Well …

Some are still on the brain. Others were forgotten as quickly as they were considered. Some have been tabled as the day-to-day catches up to my musing. I’m not entirely sure what this means; the fact that things that seem so important and worthy of commentary lose a bit of their “umph” by the time I find a few spare moments in the evening hours.

Maybe it’s the five a.m. wake-up each day. Or the energy it takes to plan for a simple outing to the grocery store, which used to be something done without thought and now requires more planning than a military strategist waging a campaign (diaper bag, check; purse, check; cell phone, check … BABY! Go get the baby!)

Maybe, just maybe it is the subtle shifting of priorities and opinion: hmmm, wax on at the blog OR snuggle Sydney and watch The Parent Trap on Hallmark channel with Leon? …

It’s not that I’ve lost “my voice” per se. (On the contrary, I seem to hold forth on all matter of subjects while feeding Sydney … she agrees with me entirely, how nice! ), but when the day draws to its close and there is a window of time to key in rambling musings (which, let’s face it, pretty much defines most blogs, which are on the whole a shockingly narcissistic exercise for most of us in contemporary culture …) I just … well, I don’t wanna.

To pose the good Lutheran question: what does this mean? Thoughts anyone?

I suppose it’s a phase or something. New Mommyness, new professional aspirations … change is my new common. And perhaps this lack of drive to express my view to … well, pretty much anyone who decides to read my silly blog is really connected to this deeper sense of life being in FLUX. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about ANYTHING … maybe, I don’t know … perhaps.

In the meantime, I’m gonna give myself permission to just “not wanna” ~ I think that’s healthy and there are probably loads of deep insights to take from that. But for my part, I’m just going to enjoy this time “off” … I’m sure I’ll be back with loads of opinions in no time at all.

+Onward and Upward

Friday Night Lights ...

2008-03-14T19:58:00.000-05:00

Make a scrapbook - it's easy!

Little Boy Blue and the Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon ...

2008-03-11T18:58:00.006-05:00

Life has thrown quite a few curve-balls lately. Long story short ~ I was provided with a super opportunity professionally, turned it down ... Leon and I initially felt "okay" with that decision, but within a few days I was extended a second shot at that same opportunity. ... And we took it.

We being the family: Leon, Sydney and me (and Bailey, too, I suppose).

Effective May 2, I will bring to a close six wonderful six years with LCMS Youth Ministry, and will begin a new chapter as the Public Relations and Corporate Communications director for Concordia Publishing. I'm not entirely ready to put how I "feel" about leaving LCMS into words ... and the excitement of the CPH position is still too new as well ... but needless to say, this decision has weighed on our minds.

And we just want to be new parents! That "weighs" enough.

Today, I came home with these and other heavy thoughts on my mind. So many details and projects to wrap up ... so many emails to draft and send ... and the pressure is on to define our child care needs and figure out how in the world we can ever feel "okay" about leaving Syd ...

It was oppressive and exciting and worrisome and anticipatory ... (my graduate advisor tells me that these conflicting emotions are perfect and will prevent me from acting out of hubris as I begin my new role professionally, and more significantly as a Mommy ... OK ... I can buy that!)

Still, I wanted to release the pressure of these weighty considerations. What to do?!

Instead of wallowing in the mire of these mental bogs, I decided to simply BE with Sydney.

So, we smiled. And worked on our cooing.

And blew some spit bubbles and stuck out our tongues.

We laid on our tummys and worked out by lifting our heads and shoulders.

We muted CNN ("Be silent, Lou Dobbs!") and sang Nursery Rhymes and some simple songs (big smiles for Hickory Dickory Dock, Pat-a-Cake, and Twinkle, Twinkle).

And suddenly, this big, intense day and these big insane decisions and these faux-Pentagon-eqsue stressors were reduced to their proper weight ... in light of the power of simple repetition, silly inflections and goofy mannerisms (yes, I act out the ryhmes and songs as we play ... so picture that for just a moment ...) and all was right with the world.

At least for tonight.

The "Grassroots."

2008-03-01T10:06:00.004-05:00

“PRESIDENCY, n. The greased pig in the field game of American politics.”

~ Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

I had a fantastic experience this past Thursday night.

It was common.

It was refreshingly unpretentious.

It was fun.

It was astonishingly grassroots and really "American."

Monster truck rally, you guess? Enjoying an apple pie and some fireworks at a picnic, perhaps? Watching American Idol?

Nope!

My Dad and I attended a political caucus for our congressional district; he to observe the process as an AP government teacher and me? Well, because I like politics. I like hanging out with my Dad. And I am a new mom, who was extended an invitation for an "evening out".

I had absolutely no idea what to expect, but midway through the somewhat chaotic proceedings I leaned over to Dad to whisper, "It's exactly like Girl's State." (which I attended decades ago ... wait a second, that's not an overstatement. It really was decades ago. Good grief.) Depending on how you looked at it, my comparison was either a fantastic credit to how the Girl's State organizers designed the program, or a bit of a comment on how the chairman was running the caucus .

Regardless, it was American politics "at work" and it was great.

What I saw was a fascinating cross section of folks; a real "slice" of Saint Charles County life to be sure. There were well dressed business people, clearly coming directly from work. There were blue collar types. There were eager, intense, sort of socially awkward adults (who reminded me of the high school student who desperately wanted to be elected to the student council because he (unlike his or her often more "popular" and electable peers) actually was passionate about issues). There were people who seemed "dressed" to mimic the style and attitude of their candidate of choice, which I found somewhat unique (those supporting one candidate in particular were wearing a wide range of well coordinated pants suits with impressively unique chunky jewelry ... if you haven't guessed the party affiliation ... well, that is troubling!)

Some had made small flyers explaining why they would make a great delegate for the district. Others were just there to soak in the atmosphere. A few older folks, it seemed, had been attending for years and this familiarity made them extremely comfortable in voicing their opinions, which was loud, slightly obnoxious and totally great.

As the caucusing began and the group divided based on their candidate of choice, the energy in the room picked up. It was exciting to see young adults, middle aged parents, and senior citizens focused on their ballots, discussing and deciding how to best represent the group at the next stage of the process and at the statewide convention. To see the grassroots at work. As a former high school history teacher, I felt a certain sense of vindication. Here, at least, was a smattering of folks for whom all those lessons and debate and congressional reenactments was paying off! Idealism is a heady feeling.

You see, I watch an awful lot of CNN. And by this stage in the game, the candidates and their campaigns are (as they must be) fairly well oiled machines. The comments are polished (for the most part). The stage is "grand". The posters are machine made, the buttons on backorder, and the speeches are written with incredible skill and extensive research. "Stumping" is no longer an extemporaneous surge where a candidate holds forth with spur-of-the-moment passion, but a well planned series of events coordinated with the media and executed with the precision of a drill sergeant commanding troops. It's impressive and slightly intimidating.

But it all starts, and is driven by, totally unassuming roots. A group of folks, gathered in a spare banquet hall in small town, suburban town or large town America; with handwritten instructions on wall sized Post-its; led by a chairman who stumbles over the words of the party instructions for the caucus and encourages us all to "conjugate" in our respective corners; with eager voters and laid back side-line spectators raising their hands, miscounting votes, calling the party headquarters for clarification and voting for the delegates who will move on to show the support of this one district for the well polished candidate appearing on T.V.

That's the sort of idealism that needs to return to American politics; this enthusiasm of "regular" folks, taking the initiative to believe that they can be (and already are) a valuable and necessary part of the process. It's an opportunity to get behind "change we can believe in."

My Dad and I left with more than we bargained for and will both be part of the next stage in the process for our district. I am looking forward to that. We also are able to now attend the statewide convention, which one eager young, sort of atypical political looking type declared to be "just a whole lot of fun."

Fun? American politics are fun again? Who would have thought.

"Because of our flight from public life, our common citizenship no longer fosters a sense of community or common purpose ... We have less and less to do with each other, meaning that we feel few obligations to each other and are less and less inclined to vindicate each other's rights. ... Most of the problems of our political life can be traced to the failure of the dominant ideologies of American politics, liberalism and conservativism. ... On issue after issue, there is consensus on where the country should move or at least on what we should be arguing about; liberalism and conservativism make it impossible for that consensus to express itself."
~ E.J. Dionee, Jr., Why Americans Hate Politics

Happy Birthday!

2008-02-23T10:47:00.003-05:00

It was "Happy Birthday, Papa" as Dad Staude turned 54 this past Thursday. We celebrated by taking Mom and Dad out for dinner (marking Sydney's FIRST restaurant experience ~ which went exceedingly well) and then coming home to enjoy the bi-annual treat of Gret's German Chocolate Cake (which she only makes twice a year for her Dad's birthday and for Leon's birthday), watch a Disney flick (The Gameplan) and generallly just relax.

While it looks like Dad is about to eat the entire cake in one fell swoop; he is actually "phoofing" out his candles with Sydney's help (okay, so she is looking a little skeptical, but maybe the flames freaked her out! Although we didn't put NEARLY all of them on ~ only had 14 in the box, LOL!)

At any rate, "Happy Birthday, Dad!" We all love you!

"Beside the White Chickens"

2008-02-21T18:09:00.003-05:00

"So much depends upon ..."

So begins the infamous poem, "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams, which can be interpreted (my former students will remember this) to suggest that the deepest revelations, beauty, truth and value of life is often found in the simplest things; the imagist philosophy to communicate not in ideas, but in things ...

Having a new baby in the house reduces inspiration to its simplest and most profound ~ Leon and I find small moments hold tremendous meaning. Here are some of our favorites:

Leon, Gret, Sydney & Bailey laying on our bellies on the floor for 5 minutes of "tummy time"

Unbundling Sydney from her swaddle at the end of a nap and watching her stretch and yawn

Sitting quietly and talking together while feeding Sydney her bottle at the end of the day or in the quiet of the night.

Spending time imitating faces with Sydney Grace! (Leon is quite good at this!)

"life narrating" ~ whether its cooking dinner, dusting the living room, or dressing for the day as we talk to our little one.

Our list could go on and on ... it's the routine and ordinary of regular days that seems most awesome for our family. It's real and basic and profound. Truly, "so much" does depend upon our own "version" of the red wheelbarrow ... but we'll forego the white chickens.

Our Snowy Day

2008-01-31T16:05:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid, I loved Ezra Jack Keats' book, The Snowy Day. Recently, we bought a board book of this classic story for Sydney (never too early to read!) and the vivd, colorful illustrations brought back memories of childhood reading. (I always loved the page where the big kids are having the snowball fight.) Today, we are having a "snowy day" here in St. Charles, with 9-inches falling. We are cozily snugged in here at home as a family and enjoying the day very much.

(So is Bailey, whose Wisconsin puppy-roots always come out when he has the chance to roam in the backyard with the snow all around. He becomes "wilderness-trek" dog and spends hours out there sniffing, rolling, running and generally enjoying life as a dog.)

Sydney is four weeks old today and as a gift to her parents, she decided to sleep through the night. We have been implementing a sleep routine and our pediatrician gave us the thumbs up to let her sleep at night. So, last night a sweet, snuggly Syd was bundled and soothed and put to sleep at 9:00. It was night three of the routine. We followed at 9:15 ... and my eyes opened again somewhere in the middle of the night and then again at 4:45AM (my ears never really turned off, of course).

We were stunned. We ran to the bassinet and there she was, content and STILL SLEEPING. She finally roused at 5:15. She gave us 8 hours of sleep. Delightful baby girl. We couldn't believe it and honestly feel like we could take on the world today. Of course, we know better than to bank on this happening again in the near future. If it does ~ super! If not ~ we'll keep forging ahead. But we gotta say, last night was great.

It's the little things, isn't it? Like ... sleep. Like ... snow falling on the last day of January and grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup for lunch. Like ... a fire and hot cocoa; homemade chocolate chip cookies baking; the smell of wet wool mittens on the radiator and ice cold noses.

Like packing our pockets with snowballs for tomorrow ... I think I need to stop blogging and go out to enjoy the deep, deep snow!

The Simple Things

2008-01-27T13:23:00.000-05:00

Who would ever have thought that a 30-minute excursion to the local market would be cause for much musing and reflection? I certainly never did. However, this week, after almost 4-months of fairly restricted home life, I went to the grocery store. More to the point, I went to the grocery store all by myself. I drove there and everything. The trip, from getting ready to pushing the cart to reading the headlines of gossip mags in line at the checkout to driving there and back, was completely exhilarating. I drank it all in ~ the new location of cilantro in the produce aisle; the new assortment of energy water (a need for Daddy Leon in our house these days since he remains bound and determined not to drink coffee, silly man!); the new “soup of the day” in the deli. For some reason, being able to successfully navigate such a mundane trip, after so many weeks of restrictions on even the most basic functions of life, gave me renewed energy.

Right now, life centers on Sydney’s needs. Her waking, sleeping, eating and … other functions ;-) are a source of great focus. Life is definitely defined anew. It's different and that's okay. In the midst of all this newness, I am also taking a graduate class – Media Law, if you can believe it. So last week found me entirely focused on baby and cramming in a few minutes of writing here and there to complete a paper covering First Amendment case law. This week, it’s a case study on tort law, specifically building a case for a libel suit that proves actual malice. Good stuff. And certainly interesting in between feedings, naps, diapering and tummy time (yes, we attempt just a bit each day already … it’s fun, not so much because Syd is terribly proficient at it yet, but because Bailey gets in on the action and she is fascinated by him!) Oh, and we have become newly addicted to Hannah Montana. Yep. That’s right. Late night wakeful periods at the Jameson Ranch might just find us with the T.V. tuned low to an episode with Billy Ray and all the crazy Hannah gang. … In light of all of this excitement ;-), maybe you can see why a solo-flight to the market was truly inspiring.

I don’t know about any of you, but my life has always been intensely driven. I love pushing my mind and talents and whole self in pursuit of good things, whether those things be experiences on the home front, the work front or just personal, “inside” things. It’s incredible to be experiencing these first few weeks as a new, young family. Leon and I love navigating challenges and this is no exception. We are being pushed in entirely new ways; what an awesome thing.

I love being intentional and reflective during any new experience. When I take the time to sit and “ponder” (to borrow from that most famous of mothers) all that is happening in my life, in our life and even already in Sydney’s life ~ I am so encouraged and inspired. Thus far, and I don’t want to paint too rosy a picture because there have been late night tears (ours included with Sydney’s) and mid-day melt-downs and early morning frustrations; but thus far, the pursuit of this good thing, this family life, this existence that eclipses “just” Leon and I, this new, weird adventure of our household with a baby, this life with Sydney is just the most incredible “thing” we can imagine!

And it’s only been three weeks ….

Wow. There’s plenty of trips to the market to come, plenty of simple life moments in which to revel and we can't wait.

Week by Week ... A Second Installment

2008-01-15T21:05:00.000-05:00

This week has been a wonderful adventure for the Jameson family! Whether navigating 2AM feedings, or conquering diaper changes with only a minimum of fuss, or avoiding the occassional projectile spit-up ~ Leon and Gret are enjoying these early days of new parenting.

And thus far, our little Sydney is putting up with us and exhibiting tremendous tolerance for our blunders ...

(you know, like giving her the first sponge bath and getting soap in her eyes, oh dear ... we've already problem solved THAT little snag! And here's a shot from a successful bath with Grandma Jameson helping out!)

The first night was tough, we won't lie. And what we quickly realized during the successful nights since is that, as with so many things in life, attitude and mindset make all the difference. We would guess that most new parents carry, in the way-way-way back of their mind, a belief that "in time" things will return to "normal". 40-weeks of intentional preparation still doesn't quite pack the same wallop as that first night, when suddenly it becomes clear that the new normal is: this. And it's great and awesome and overwhelming and challenging all at once.

We have a little notebook in the nursery wherein we record the "ins and outs" of Sydney's day-to-day experiences. To make this little book more than just a physical rundown of Sydney's life, each night we take time to write down three things: today's beautiful moment, how Sydney grew today, and what Mommy and Daddy learned ... here are some highlights:

We learned, "that when we take our time and are in the moment, there's no place we'd rather be. Our life won't go back - so much lies ahead."
We learned, "That [we] each have given of ourselves for our family and we trust that the other knows it and loves them for it."
We learned, "That we can't seem to beat the spit-up, no matter how hard we try, but we are determined to triumph yet!"
We learned, "Too much stimuli and too many visitors leads to a long night for all! Help!"
Finally, "Each day we learn more and more about working together ... and are stronger for it."

It's kind of exciting to wake up each day to a totally new sense of "expected." After 10 years of married life, it's sort of a strange thing to have no real idea of what the day will bring ... that in and of itself has been a challenge. But, we are realizing that being patient and open to whatever comes, being sensitive to and focused on all that God has granted us, and most of all "shelving" self in the interest of our family, our spouse and our child makes these days of total "new" absolutely awesome.

What more could anyone ask from a "normal" life?

~ Sydney Grace ~ January 3, 2008

2008-01-04T21:50:00.000-05:00

"From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another."

January 3, 2008 at 5:14PM Leon and I welcomed our sweet, 7lbs., 2oz, 20.5 inches "tall" Sydney Grace into the world. We will share more details soon; until then, enjoy these first photos of our little wonder.

We cannot give thanks enough for the safe delivery of Sydney ~ for the prayers and love offered by our friends and family ~ for the abundance of God's provision. Join our prayers of thanksgiving and joy!

Papa Staude greets his newest granddaughter.

Daddy loves his little girl!

Papa and Gramma Staude smile with Sydney.

Mommy and Sydney see eye-to-eye.

Now We Wait ...

2007-12-23T09:57:00.000-05:00

Waiting has never been my forte. So you can well imagine that 40-weeks of pregnancy has felt a bit like 40 years ... oh, I don't know, wandering in the desert waiting for the Promised Land? Actually, with all of the preparing: nursery decorating, furniture and gear "research" and selection, reading, reading, reading ... it hasn't really been that challenging to wait. Until we hit 27-weeks that is, and daily life became home bound life. Even THAT wasn't too tough compared to the last 11 days in the hospital.

THAT was some serious waiting.

Now we are home and the waiting continues. Our doctor has indicated everything is a possibility at this point from going into labor over Christmas, to a scheduled c-section next Thursday or Friday, to "waiting" into January. It's hard to wait with so many variables. At least for us.

Leon spent his days while I was in the hospital working, caring for me, waiting with me and then coming home at night to finish the nursery nesting "just in case". We're ready alright, as ready as two 30-somethings with ten-years of marriage under their belt but relatively little infant experience can be, that is.

Now we wait.

Obvious connections to this Advent and Christmas season and waiting are clear. And that has been unique conversation for us as we wait.

But it doesn't soothe the nerves; not "bad" nerves, just nerves, energy, and excitement. WHEN will we actually see our little Sydney?

One of the very special parts of the challenges of this pregnancy has been the "perk" (albeit for medical reasons) of seeing Sydney each and every week via very clear ultrasound. We've literally watched her grow and develop for the past 10 weeks and it has been incredible. We've seen her "practice" breathing in the womb (a truly awesome thing to see); we've seen her facial features take on definition; this past week, we even saw her sucking her thumb. We know she can "hear" and feel us; she always tries to bat away the technician's ultrasound wand! And she responds to singing, chatter and general "Hey, Sydney!" (that usually from Leon) ... We want to have her here, though. Safe and healthy and here.

And so we wait.

It could be a very big week! We'll keep you posted.

The Pure Delight of a Full Liquid Diet

2007-12-13T16:03:00.000-05:00

The Sydney Grace journey continues!

Hello from the third floor of Saint Joseph's Medical Center located here in beautiful, historic Saint Charles. Yes, that's right. Gretchen, Sydney and Leon are living the life here in Labor and Delivery ~ and no, Sydney is not "here" yet.

But, please allow us to tell you how we GOT here.

On Tuesday, we went (once more) for just a simple, routine obstetrics visit. We are starting to be really suspicious of "routine" visits, given how they seem to turn out for us these days! Leading up to this week's appointment, Gret had been having fun with the stomach flu, which got all sorts of things "going" in terms of the baby (contractions, etc.). Of course, we didn't realize this until our exam. Blithely arriving to Dr. Keisler's office, we were curious to know how things were progressing. After all, at 34.5 weeks, we recognize that "any time" really is ANY TIME, which alternately thrills and terrifys us!

In a matter of moments, Dr. Keisler was able to discern that Gret's body had progressed farther towards real labor. Added to this, Sydney is hanging out breech, with her little feet neatly poised to make an entrance into the world with very little encouragement! Dr. Keisler immediately sent us to a place we are starting to know well, Labor and Delivery.

We arrived. Gret was attached to the monitors (which Sydney really has come to loathe; she kicks at them with impressive strength!), and before we knew it ~ Gret was back on an IV of magnesium to stop what was progressing to a very active labor! (For those of you who haven't had the joy of magnesium, let's just say it would never be considered a "recreational" drug. It's absolutely nasty stuff and they had poor Gret on quite a dosage.) The specialist Gret and Leon have seen each week came in, and after an amniocentesis shared that the steroids little Sydney received all those weeks back did NOT help her lungs. In otherwords, Syd was not at all ready to be born. After another day on the magnesium, the contractions slowed and today (Thursday), Gret was put back on a lesser treatment of medication, but we have learned that the hospital is where she will stay until it's time to deliver Sydney Grace. Another amnio next Tuesday will let us know if the additional steroids received yesterday worked (and the doctor feels they will), at which time (next Friday) and at 36-weeks, we will potentially have a scheduled c-section to bring Syd into the world.

Of course, in the way of hospitals ~ all of that could (and doubtless will!) change in an absolute heartbeat.

In the meantime, Gret is getting into the groove of life here on Labor and Delivery. Leon has already spoiled the nurses station with daily cookies and treats and we are receiving just splendid care (and would be cookies aside, I am sure!). Gret graduated from a clear liquid diet, to a full liquid diet (she was all about the pudding) to REAL food earlier today and is learning the joy of being content with what is placed in front of you. (Truly, some of her best meals in New Orleans don't hold a candle to how she loved her beef broth and toast yesterday after 48 hours of little food ... and that's not a joke!)

In all, we continue to learn what it means to be Mom and Dad. Right now, our job is to keep Sydney safe. While the uncertainty is tough; and the tests and pokes and prods hardly ideal; and the hospital stay potentially over Christmas difficult to consider; and all the other "unknowns" make life a challenge, we remain convinced of God's promises. When we start to worry, try to own and dictate the situation, or rebel against the circumstances before us, we need to quiet our hearts and minds and remember that Sydney is God's precious child. He alone knows the plan for her and her tiny body and her life. While we won't lie and wish we "knew" how this would turn out, we are trusting in God. We beg you to pray for that understanding to continue to "surpass" our hearts and minds, while so many other worries and woes try to claim our focus.

More on hospital life, food and bed rest to come :) But the dinner hour is coming, and Gret needs to start reviewing her menu!

Just because everything is different doesn't mean that everything has changed.

2007-12-06T16:45:00.000-05:00

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

Just this morning, I was contemplating change.

I was thinking about how for the past 8 months, the constant mantra I have heard from well-intentioned friends and family has been, “Your life is going to change in ways you can’t imagine.” Some people share this [fairly] obvious insight with a gentle smile, others with a knowing grin; a few deliver it with a devious snicker, and still others with a grimace of impending doom. The result has been that in my over-emotional, physically tapped mind I have started to fear change … which is definitely not my style. I have started to worry about change and to wonder if I am up for the task of facing (not just parenthood) but this whole notion of CHANGE that seems to be so paramount in the language of so many well-meant “advisors.”

I have also started to notice that some people say my LIFE will change, while others say I (my SELF) will change. Is there a difference? Me VS. My daily grind? Me VS. My priorities?

In preparation for Sydney’s birth, I have been talking to loads of people. I have been reading loads of magazines. I am subscribed to far too many blogs, Web chats and e-newsletters. Overall, source after source assures me that upon the birth of my child, my life will be forever stripped from me. That my own sense of self, my interests and my cares will be “lost” in the mad scramble of parenthood.

Lately, I have been reading these pieces of wisdom out loud to Leon with disdain in my voice. I then usually hurl the offending resource against the wall (laptop excluded). Where is this emerging anger coming from, I wonder (besides the obvious pregnancy hormones!) … Are Leon and I selfish people that we balk so adamantly against the suggestion that we will be ourselves no more because of Sydney? Shouldn’t we be “okay” with this? What kind of people are we to not willingly surrender our entire selves for the good of our baby?

Well ~ maybe we are awful people, but Leon and I are absolutely bored with hearing how we won’t have any time for our own thoughts; that we won’t have any sense of our “old life”, and that even our marriage will be forever stripped of what it once was by the presence of our baby. We are bored of it and we refuse to believe it!

Interestingly, while I think the point of most of these articles and blogs and ballsy advice givers is to suggest that a baby will be more than worth such sacrifices, the speakers never really get around to saying that as convincingly as they warn us of all we are about to lose forever in a vast abyss of toys, dance lessons, Mommy and Me classes, piano recitals and baby gear. I have been more and more troubled by the attitude expressed by so many that children stamp out, destroy, and even strangle personal hopes, dreams and wishes … the idea I hear and read and absorb from so many is that a child replaces any sense of personal or marital identity.

I think I am going to boldly suggest that can’t possibly be true. (And yes, I can already picture which of you dear readers is laughing into your morning coffee at my next thoughts, which will probably seem either endearingly naïve or innocently just plain stupid, but bear with me) …

Leon and I are walking toward parenthood with the idea that, after 10 years of married life, Sydney is adding to, not replacing our hopes and dreams and goals; that the change that everyone “warns” us to expect is a welcome change that we do actually understand more than folks might realize.

Do I understand the “realities” of day-to-day care for our baby? Of course not. But do I “get” that life is changing in ways I can’t anticipate ~ definitely; after 32 years of living I have rather figured out that life provides lots of stages where things change completely and this prepares us for the next stage …

Sydney is an added piece of our life; not our entire existence. She is a gift from God; entrusted to us for care and parenting. She is His and we have the opportunity to love and nurture her; and to provide her with opportunities for growth and joy and learning and faith.

Now, this doesn’t mean we won’t be guilty as charged when we behave like typical Gen X parents and hold forth about every little burp our baby makes. But we’ll try really hard not to obsess that way too often. And I am also not suggesting that we will be like sitcom parents (think Ross and Rachel on FRIENDS for example), whose baby never enters conversation and who is largely forgotten except for at “milestone” events ;-) (I always wonder when I watch these shows, where on EARTH is their baby??) But I think what I dare to suggest is that I will be a lousy parent if I lose my identity because of Sydney. What a road to resentment and what a tremendously uninteresting mother I would be!

I don’t want to be afraid of my daughter’s arrival because it means I am at the same time committing hari kari on my own spirit. And I don’t think I am missing the point of the sacrifice of parenting and motherhood to make that statement …

Maybe Leon and I are wholly wrong. Maybe in a year or two, someone will come up to either one of us and ask us to define our selves or to express our deepest goals, and we won’t even recall what those were before life with Sydney. Maybe.

But my guess is that even if and when those things do change, when the inner person shifts and is so redefined, it won’t be a mindless slide into a person-less oblivion … but considered and connected to who I was before my child and to who I plan to be with my child and who I would like to be when my child is grown … I suppose time will tell.

It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself. ~Joyce Maynard

Thanksgiving 2007

2007-11-24T12:25:00.000-05:00

Make a slide show, scrapbook, or ecard

I've Got Cabin Fever!

2007-11-16T19:32:00.000-05:00

"Hey, Kid! Go play with sticks."

2007-11-10T10:13:00.000-05:00

Recently, my parents, our good friends, Doug and Carol, and Leon and I had a conversation about today's overly parented child.

You know the type ~ the poor child whose parent obsesses over every tiny detail; calls the teacher with insane worries and requests; actually watches their high school student's class-by-class attendance online via Power School and calls the teacher immediately if Junior is late to class, demanding an explanation; the early childhood parent more worried about Sally being gently disciplined (because it will most likely damage her fragile sense of emerging self) than by the fact that Sally can't recognize her alphabet letters; Helicopter Parents.

That bane of childhood who have taken all the fun out of growing up: no more home-baked birthday treats (somebody might have a peanut allergy or somebody’s parent might use fatty oils and real sugar); no more bicycles without helmets (though we still have school buses without seatbelts, go figure); no more climbing trees and playing sword fight with sticks or eating dirt or exhausting oneself playing with the neighborhood kids till all hours; no more hopping fences. We want a well-packaged childhood; after all that’s what’s safest for the children (plus, they don’t ruin their baby UGG boots and Ralph Lauren, monogrammed backpacks).

When I look at the rules and regulations of today's pre-middle school set and the obsessive tendencies of parents even on the high school level, I wonder how my generation escaped childhood alive. I mean, for crying out loud, didn't my parents love me?! They let me carry a backpack loaded with books and didn't give me a wheeled suitcase to haul my things! I could be crippled or maimed! Are they going to pay my chiropractic bills? They didn't feed me organic everything ~ I actually ate Mac and Cheese made with (gulp) powdered cheese PRODUCT! I ate cookie dough batter made with (brace yourselves here) RAW EGGS! I could have high cholesterol or worse! Dangerous hoydens.

Lest you think we intend to raise Sydney with no rules or sense of safety ~ let me be clear to say that Leon and I fully own that the world is a "dangerous" place. We also appreciate the opportunity to make smart choices and protect our child in a world that largely feigns deep care for the young, but consistently creates systems that threaten them. (And I do love baby UGG boots … come on, seriously cute!) The point is not to be typically-American and pendulum swing 100% the other direction (I mean, after all we seem to live in a culture that absolutely refuses a moderate position on anything from politics to how I feed my baby) ... The point is, all this perfectionist parenting scares me just a little because I have a tendency to ... (I'm sure this will SHOCK most of you) people-please and push for perfection.

Seriously. The other day Leon and I got into a discussion about which language to introduce Syd to (in addition to English of course) from the start. I don't want a million toys, books and games with 15-different languages, so I want to pick just one. You know: Mandarin is all the rage but Spanish is so practical ... oh dear. Here we go ... Gen X parenting! STOP the madness.

I am slowly developing this theory about my generation as parents; we who graced TIME magazine as the apathetic generation; whose Boomer parents were criticized for leaving us to fend for ourselves as latchkey kids and ATARI addicts (and who, true to form really didn’t care all that much about the criticism). The result is … I think we are truly overcompensating.

You can almost hear the inner mantra: “WE won't raise our kids that way. WE will be involved parents. WE will make SURE people know how completely in tune we are with our child's every need. BE GONE peanut butter; BE GONE getting to know neighbor kids whose parents I don't know (and don't care to walk down the street to get to know ...); BE GONE childhood wildness!”

We'll see how Leon and I do once our little girl is here. Truth is; I was raised to be inventive and imaginative. Super-sized plastic Fischer Price kitchen that (as a friend recently wrote me) is larger than my living room? Who needs it! I loved building a clubhouse (and one very inventive time, a house boat!) out of large moving boxes. Crazy bike-like toy that attaches to my television so that my child can peddle like a mad gerbil in a cage and get some exercise? Go ride your bike outside! (Oh, wait … our neighborhood eschewed sidewalks for larger lawns … )

But maybe Sydney will want these things? Maybe she won't appreciate a mom and dad who tell her to play with sticks? Maybe she won’t want to lick the cake batter bowl because she learned about salmonella at school? Will we be able to provide our child with a sense of old-fashioned play and adventure and risk in a 2008 world of risk management, helmets and home-baking free classrooms?

I think we owe it to her to try ...

Then again ...

Maybe I am just inviting disaster. How does one say, "It's all fun and games ..." in Madarin anyway?

For more on this topic, check out Chris Mercogliano’s new book, In Defense of Childhood: Protecting Kids' Inner Wildness. [Click here] to read an interview.

You Know You are an Ultrasound Junkie When ...

2007-11-08T10:45:00.000-05:00

Each week, Leon and I visit the maternal fetal medicine unit at St. Joseph's hospital where we undergo a variety of tests. We have an ultrasound done and Syd is tested for biophysical indicators. It's a timed test, 30 minutes and once she passes her indicators, we just sort of watch her in there. Then, we move on for a stress test (which means I get strapped up to an external fetal monitor and they watch her heart rate and my contraction rate.)

The long and short is that we spend loads of time looking at, deciphering and enjoying our baby girl via ultrasound.

Yesterday, she met all of her indicators early in the test. So, the tech switched over the 3-D so we could enjoy those images. Here is one of the best ...

But, as you all know ~ ultrasound can be ... tricky to watch. You know the FRIENDS episode where Joey says (about Rachel's ultrasound DVD), "What is it?" to which Chandler responds, "I don't know, but I think it's about to attack the enterprise!" For all those out there who have pretended to see an arm when told it was there, who have mistaken their babies heads for their feet, and who wish we could have crystal clear imagery ~ we share this video from a recent SNL ...

Let me add a disclaimer that my wonderful hubby is NOT like the hubby in this video! Leon epitomizes support, encouragement and sensitivity. But ... even HE would love this technology ... and the NFL endorsement ... (If the video "sticks", be patient and let it buffer through once, then you can watch it again and it will play smoothly!)

Empty-ish Nesting ...

2007-11-03T13:19:00.000-05:00

It's been another great week here at hospital camp! Experiencing our first week following the fall play, we had much more of a sense of relaxation and calm, which was really nice, actually. A successful doctor's visit on Wednesday revealed that we are holding steady ~ Sydney is doing wonderfully (she passed her biophysical tests with flying colors!) and so we continue to give thanks. I have learned to readjust my sense of "good news" and for now ~ no change is excellent news!

Leon is deep in nesting mode. What does this mean? Well, it means tackling projects that bring organization and structure to our home pre-Baby. Now, those of you who know us well are probably thinking, "How can Leon possibly BE more organized?"

Oh how little you know.

It is very possible.

First, Leon has completely revamped all of our major closet spaces (linen, etc.); he has totally reonovated the storage in the laundry room (something I have been hoping for for some time); today he is condensing his already uber-organized garage into even more convenient storage; and then he is starting on our basement [insert ominous music], which again many of you know has long needed organization. It's downright scary down there. I have long had a theory that we absolutely MUST bring order to the basement chaos. There is something symbolic about living a centered existence when your "lower levels" are a madhouse ~ so it will be exciting to see that space re-imagined!

This organization projecting is so important to him that he generated his own funding. He sold [gasp here] his very cool PSP with all of its games and movies.

Seriously.

Leon SOLD a video gaming item, which is clearly a sign of some sort of mental condition or impending fatherhood ... one of the two. Of course, he still has his super cool PS3, so life is not totally in a state of some unnatural chaos.

In general, we are pretty sure that this nesting is Leon's way to blow off steam and stress as we grapple with pregnancy challenges. For my part, I am spending time working (probably more than I ought, but for cryin' out loud ... I'm confined, with a laptop and a mind full of ideas for my work at LCMS ... it's rather exciting to be giving energy to that work right now) and in the evenings, I am cataloguing my acres of recipes ... loving to cook the way I do, I have piles of recipes and dog-eared magazines and clippings, etc. that need order. Order is a big thing for us right now. Might as well enjoy THAT while we can ;-) I've already designed the Thanksgiving menu and have planned out how I can use my allowed and alloted "stand up time" each day/week to accomplish prep for that (I love preparing for that meal; it's a completely special tradition for my Dad and I); and have started plotting Christmas presents/cards, etc. Go Jamesons!

OH, and I created a Meez (she's over in the right hand margin ...) who I can manipulate to be more active than I am allowed to be. Hehehe.

Other than that, we give thanks for a fresh week and more opportunity to pray for and "grow" our baby girl. Please continue to join us in those prayers!!

+Gret & Leon

28 Weeks! Huzzah!

2007-10-27T13:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, we officialy made it to 28 weeks. [Insert raucous cheers here] This is excellent news. At our follow-up appointment this week, Dr. Keisler stressed the vital importance of the next four weeks. We continue to covet prayers.

We had a chance to ask Sydney for an update. This latest ultrasound photo gives a clear indication that, from Syd's vantage point, "It's all good in here, Mommy and Daddy!" So we are trusting that she's comfy and growing and developing just as she needs to:

We will be seeing the obstetric specialist at St. Joseph's hospital each week for an ultrasound and to be on the monitor to gauge the level of contractions. Every other week, we will additionally visit Dr. Keisler. At this point and time, we could completely go full-term, or Syd could be here tomorrow. It's a lesson in waiting ... a lesson in letting go ... a lesson in simply enjoying each day and relying on God's total provision ... some days we really struggle with those lessons. Other days, we feel unstoppable. We suppose that's natural and are already appreciating how this experience is shaping our marriage and our relationship as we prepare for parenting together.

Now to life on the Homefront here at Hospital Camp ...

Many of you have made veiled [okay, less than veiled in most cases] comments related to Gret's ability to lay low ... remain calm and rested ... it's as if we all think Gret can't sit still.

But she can! And she will, especially once this play is over (that's right, for those who didn't know ~ this week was not only Gret and Leon's first week of modified bed rest life, but also tech week for the fall play at Lutheran High, which Gret is directing ...) Many continued thanks to Gret's parents, who jumped in along with Leon and parents of the students to manage all of the "active" details. Gret literally sits in a big comfy chair at rehearsals and (now) at performance and directs. It's been a new way to direct, but maybe she could get used to this!

The good news is that Gret is able to work from home ~ so watch out Youth Ministry Office because with all this time on her hands she has plenty of energy for new ideas, writing projects, updating, planning, etc. It's rather fun, actually! And with co-workers making time to come visit regularly, not as lonely as one might worry!

Leon continues to excel in creating soup-based dinners, yummy snacks and more. The wonderful Immanuel family is taking care of us as well, which is such a blessing. We are so thankful for our Church. And Gret is allowed to prepare small meals and move in a "low key" sort of way. She led Leon through the steps of making her infamous chocolate chip cookies yesterday afternoon, which was fun and broke up the "supine time" Gret needs to do each day.

Every day that goes by is a good thing. And honestly, it's rather exciting to think that Syd could be here "any time." We know that's true of any pregnancy, but there is something about having the doctor quite literally say, "we just don't know" that is slightly nerve-wracking. Our prayer is simply that whenever Sydney arrives, she is healthy, happy and hale.

We're sure life here at Hospital Camp will get a little dicey ;-) We'll keep you posted. And the door, phone line and Web access is always open to you! We love hearing from friends and family!

"Waiting for Our Miracle ..."

2007-10-21T19:42:00.000-04:00

Dear Family & Friends:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped.” Psalm 28:7

God is so good all the time. We give thanks to Him for his goodness, care and love, which we have felt through the words, actions and prayers from each of you over the last few days. As we wait on God’s plan for our little Sydney Grace’s arrival into the world, we are confident that He has good plans in store for our family.

We want to provide an update about where things “are” with regard to the pregnancy following the “adventures” of the last four days. Much has changed in such a short span, but the important thing is that as of now, Gretchen and Sydney are healthy and safe. Here’s a recap/update:

After what was to be a routine ultrasound this past Thursday, we found ourselves admitted to St. Joseph’s hospital before being transferred to St. Mary’s hospital in St. Louis. It turned out that Gretchen had several complicating indicators that showed her to be experiencing pre-term labor. We spent three days working with the awesome team of specialists at St. Mary’s and were able to slow Gretchen’s contractions, provide medications that would better protect Sydney should she be born early, and learn that Sydney is healthy in the womb. On Saturday afternoon, we were able to learn, through various tests that Gretchen should not be going into labor in the next two weeks. We were released to home care on the condition that Gretchen basically rest and maintain limited home-based activity (with the exception of special approved Doctor’s release for "special" occassions) for the duration of the pregnancy. In this news, we were extremely blessed. Things could have gone much differently. We give thanks for Gret’s response to the medications and the care of the doctors ~ all of which were evidence of God’s provision in this situation.

Our goal is to keep Sydney in the womb as long as possible (“Cook, Baby, cook!”). The doctor’s at St. Mary’s told us that at 27 weeks (where we currently are), they would give Sydney a “good” chance for survival, but obviously each week that passes improves those numbers and certainly reduces the complications that would accompany such a premature birth. Our goal is to make it at least to 34 weeks, which would allow us a safe delivery at St. Joseph’s here in St. Charles.

So, Leon is now “in charge” of Gretchen’s at-home rest (Gretchen calls it Nazi Hospital Camp), and of course as you all can probably assume, keeping Gret resting and content with limited activity will be something of a challenge (prayers please ;-) Gretchen will be able to maintain her work from home, but is eager for visitors and phone calls! Leon is looking forward to learning to be something of a manly Martha Stewart in the kitchen and has already started collecting recipes. Bailey is assisting Leon by following Gret everywhere and glaring at her if it seems she is too long on her feet.

In all of this, God continues to reveal His care and lasting provision in our lives. We are so thankful for the support and love you have shown to us, and we ask you to continue praying for Sydney as we progress through these next weeks. Please don’t hesitate to call or contact us ~ we are thankful for your loving connection in our lives.

With Joy-filled anticipation of all that is to come ~

Leon, Gretchen & Sydney

So ~ Exactly How BIG is big?

2007-10-09T19:53:00.000-04:00

FIRST: We have a NEW Niece! Rhylah Sabrine ... Click here to see her!

We had a prenatal visit today ~ we are at 26 weeks and counting and things are going very, very well. Some of you know that after our appointment 4-weeks ago, I was a little nervous about my doctor's comment that "Oh, you are having a big baby ..."

She left us with the promise that we would talk more about that in the coming weeks.

Well. Here we are.

This appointment, she exclaimed (and I mean exclaimed), "Whew, we really are talking about a big baby!" Now ... I am a tall woman. Leon's no shrimp. So, we weren't anticipating some 6 pound little thing (I haven't been buying clothes in the newborn size, that's for sure.) But when I've only gained 19 pounds ... I didn't necessarily expect gynormous ... well, apparently the baby weight is all Sydney! Dad attributes it to the large, Staude roundhead.

(Family types know of what I speak ... Friend types - ever notice how large and round my Dad's head is? Take a gander! It's pretty cool. Now imagine giving birth to it ... wait ... that's just plain weird. Sorry! Just imagine a baby with a big round head ... wait ... that's weird to ... oh forget it! It's past dinner time and I am too hungry to be composing logical thoughts.)

Moving on ...

Dr. Kiesler is amazing! And she knows her stuff so she is sending us for a second ultrasound (which secretly thrilled us to pieces ... the other night we were talking about how we wish we could see our little girl once more and now we get to!) and then we will be discussing options ... due dates, etc.

THAT all being said. Many of you have been asking to see Syd ... er, my bump. So, given that today was such a fun day (and I do mean that! It was fun to learn more ...), we decided to truck out to the backyard and take a few snapshots of that exciting bump that is only going to get bigger and bigger and ... oh dear. Getting nervous again!

We took Bailey with us. He has been a little weird with Sydney stuff around the house. I, for one, am convinced he can hear her heartbeat. You know, how collie's can hear a human heartbeat under 3 feet of snow? Well. A Golden has to be able to hear a baby under a few inches of belly! And he definitely knows something special is up with the nursery. In fact, whenever we are in there talking and dreaming, he runs for his favorite stuffed cat and comes barreling into the room demanding some love of his own. We love our Bubba.

So here are some photos ... first is a photo that expresses how I feel about having my bump photographed! Just teasing!!

When we get those new ultrasound photos we will be sure to post those as well. Leon is already striking poses that he thinks Sydney will be adopting since she is going to be so much more "gestationally mature" (Leon is learning all the phrases) compared with 18 weeks. It really will be fun to see.

AND we'll let you all know if that January 19 due date changes! Maybe we'll have a Christmas baby after all ... and wouldn't THAT be a wonderful gift.

Oh! For those of you wondering where Leon is ... he didn't want to be photographed. His hair was a mess. Good grief ;-) Bump? Hair? Hmmmm.

Sydney's Space

2007-09-30T12:16:00.000-04:00

We continue to work hard on Sydney's room ~ and grow more excited daily as things come together. So often, we find ourselves simply standing in the room ... thinking, wondering, considering all that will "be" our daughter.

As a couple, it has been completely rewarding to work on this project together. We find ourselves consulting one another about everything from trim work to the color and pattern of the quilting, etc. Leon has clear opinions about keeping it fun and childlike (and reigns in my tendency to go for the more formal and elegant ~can we say toile fabric patterns and matelasse bedding anyone! Come one, kids love that!) and weighs in on everything from discussions of wall art to the debate over gingham patterned crib skirts or solid crib skirts.

We finally received all of Sydney's furniture - thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Staude and the fine folks at JC Penneys! We also have started securing the "Daisy Garden" bedding - thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Jameson and the tasteful crew over at Pottery Barn Kids. Gotta love it!

Leon was able to set-up the crib without incident. I don't say that because we anticipated incident, but it was a little tricky to balance the thing, figure out how the sides are supposed to lower, etc. Good thing we hold advanced degrees.

The end result continues to be a daily transformation of the space that mirrors the transformation we are feeling in our emotions and attitudes as we ready for January.

Each day that passes we grow more and more excited for our daughter's arrival. Enjoying lunch with our good friends, Zach and Alicia Klug, whose little girl will arrive literally any day ~ we all consulted on each others worries and thrills and excitements. I am just excited that Sydney will already have a friend her own age! Alicia and I are looking forward to plenty of play-dates in the months and years to come. What a fun new direction for our lives.

I won't lie ~ we continue to be overwhelmed sometimes. Those who know us, recognize that Leon and I are planners. We've been married 9-years and have a fairly established routine. Bringing Sydney into our pattern and adjusting our living to best nurture her will take patience and creativity and patience and laughter and patience ... but at age 32, (sorry, Leon is still just 31) we really are ready for this new focus. Don't get us wrong, we love all of the activities and events and people who have absorbed our very best energy over the last years, but it's time to shift that absorption to the home front.

We just can't wait.

Home Improvement ~ Jameson Style

2007-09-08T11:37:00.000-04:00

I am not handy.

Leon is handy.

Working together, we have started remodeling our "old office" and turning it into a brilliant baby space for Sydney! It's an adventure.

Here is the opening progress ...

I was inspired by photos in my Pottery Barn kids magazines, which means that I needed Leon to do more than paint (and for those of you who know us well, you know Leon brings new meaning to the idea of being fastidious). We decided to add wainscoting to two walls, add trim around the windows, upgrade the lighting and paint. Armed with visions of the room, we headed off for the local Home Depot to begin our work.

The paint department was no problem. Leon being expert at paint; he made sure we selected a satin finish kitchen and bath quality paint so that we can keep it all really clean ... I have a feeling Leon and clean and Sydney and clean may mean two different things ... but we shall see!

Then, we headed for the lumber department, where a Dad of one of Leon's youth works. He connected us with an expert and we were set to select wainscoting, trim, chair rails, filials (see ~ we now know what rosette filials are!) liquid nails, etc. etc. etc.

And of course, we needed a miter saw to accomplish all of this. Leon detoured to the tools and we took advantage of Labor Day sales and added a really manly, really cool big ol' saw to the cart. After a few hours, we headed home.

With great enthusiasm, we started projecting. Thankfully, Leon is more patient and prescribed than I am, and so our efforts really paid off. I am too eager and would just as soon slap it all together (and then would, of course, be super bummed because the end result didn't match the vision in my mind). Leon keeps us focused ~ almost painfully precise! I mean, he makes us wait DAYS for paint to dry before we add the second color, etc. ARGH! But worth it!

And, I got to work the saw! I felt totally like one of those cool chicks on Extreme Home MakeOver!

This weekend we are picking up the nursery furniture and adding the pink color to the walls. Yeah! Then, as MeeMaw (HAHAHA, MOM!) Staude shared this morning, the real fun starts as we pick out wall hangings and rugs and dress the room. Of course, I am not really allowed to hang those items either ... I have sort of a problem producing anything but extremely large holes in the wall when I try to wield a tool ... ah well!

Nursery Time!

2007-09-01T13:47:00.000-04:00

It's time!

We are ready to start painting the nursery (or rather, Leon is ready to start painting the nursery ... I am not allowed, and no that's not necessarily because of fumes. I am an impatient painter. Leon is a fastidious painter ... and the end result is well-worth his patience, let me tell you!) At any rate, Sydney's eminent arrival becomes all the more real as we have selected furniture and colors ... it's sort of intimidating. I mean ... we are setting her tastes. Determining what she might like (or grow to loathe ... oh dear) with this early choices.

Of course. I was raised in a concrete-floored basement (ask my folks) and turned out okay (in my opinion at any rate). Maybe we are putting too much into this ;-)

We are going to go terribly gender-specific: pink! Yeah for pink! Hooray for pink. I love pink, which means for now ~ so does our daughter. Oh that it will always be that easy!

Originally our thought was something "gender neutral" ... but no. We are embracing Sydney's girl-ness on her behalf. The room will be pink and white, with spring green accents. (Afterall ~ green is the new pink). AND the best part is (well, not the best - but a cool perk), I will finally get to purchase the nursery bedding I have had my eye on for months. Check that. Make it years.

Check it out:

So that is our Labor Day ... labor. I was going to be making jam (how industrious and domestic, yes ... I know ... it's really tasty jam, too!), but have been informed by my vineyard-tending Dad that the deer have eaten everything I would harvest.

Oh well! Darn deer. I guess I will just have to crash on the sofa and eat bon bons whilst Leon paints the perfect room! What a tragedy.

Just how much chronicling of baby-waiting does everyone really want to hear? More? Less? I'll endeavor to make the next post about something exciting and work or grad school or fall high school play related (we are doing The Importance of Being Earnest ... which reminds me, I am supposed to email the students the cast list today and have not yet done so ~ they are all probably very nervous and stressed .... and the fact that this makes me laugh suggests I am not a very nice person!).

Enjoy the Labor Day weekend, all. And think of us and send Leon an encouraging post! "Paint good man! Paint!"

So - We Suppose There IS Something New in Life

2007-08-26T09:53:00.000-04:00

So, the reality - for those of you who haven't figured us out yet - is that Leon and I are terrible bloggers.

Seriously.

Imagine that in several thousand years, someone is able to unearth the Internet and digs through all of the unfinished, yet-to-be-updated pages of millions of people (people that Leon and I seem too much like). They would look at our blog and think, "How sad. Some people were content to be happy only about the purchase of a new table. How tragic their circumstances. How devoid of meaning their daily lives must have been."

Yup. That's us. Doing our part to contribute to the cultural anthropology of 2007 America.

In reality ~ life is too full for blogging (there, that sounds justified!). With a summer jam packed FULL of events and vacations and Gatherings and .... BABY, where do we begin?

(And our other question is always this, "who's reading this thing?")

So ~ unlike sad promises I made to myself each January in my personal journal, I will not claim to be turning over a new blog leaf. BUT the update is that Leon and I are having a Baby Girl. Her name is Sydney Grace and we couldn't be more thrilled that she will soon be part of our daily, mundane, apparently dining room table fixated living!

There she is, peering up at us. It's like one of those puzzle art pieces a few decades back, stare at this long enough and you will see two eyes, a little nose, and the indentation of lips as Sydney's little face peers up at the ultrasound dealy. "Hey, what's going on up there?" We of course think she is gorgeous! And definitely worth writing about ~ so perhaps we will turn over that new blogging leaf.

In the meanwhile, I am off to enjoy another cup of java at my dining room table.

+Gret & Leon

Easter Bunnies, eggs, and little ba ba bas

2007-04-09T20:28:00.000-04:00

We didn't see the Easter Bunny this holiday ~ but we did enjoy the traditions of the day with awesome music at Immanuel (a full, and I mean FULL orchestra and choir provided worship through various selections of The Messiah; it was awesome), sunny (if not as warm as we might have liked) Missouri weather, a fantastic meal, and a day spent cooking and conversing with Dad in our kitchen (while Mom and Leon goofed around and enjoyed Leon's new PS3).

Mom even managed to provide photos of the "new" dining table ~ which is officially "christened" as of this festive meal!

It wasn't a loud or boisterous Easter. We didn't hunt for eggs or have to wake up at sunrise for church choir (well, Leon did ~ the ubiquitous Youth Easter Breakfast happens even at Immanuel) or because little ones wanted a basket. We can't, of course, wait for such distractions. I suppose you might say we are fond of ~ but ready to long for ~ civilized holiday celebrations. (Remind us of this in a few years ~ God willing ~ when we have to hold our eye lids open with toothpicks and Easter dinner sounds great catered in rather than gourmet prepared ... though I don't think I will EVER relinquish my quality time with Dad as we cook on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter ... Columbus Day. You know, all the biggies.)

Easter this year kept Leon and I mindful both of what we have lost and what we have gained through Christ. In preparing for my GIRLS' group Passion Week study, I wrote the following during my morning quiet time:

We have been told that God is love. One of the greatest ways God shows His all-consumming love for us is in his promises, which he keeps and remembers always. God demonstrates his great love for us by keeping his promises; and the trust that we find in God and his love enables us to love others.

Passion means first suffering. Then intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction, and finally love.

The sacrifice of the Cross is what saves us to love God and others. It is the central symbol of all humanity; it is the most important element in the Christian life. Only by the Cross can we truly love and trust God with our lives and our passions.

And, I would add, with our hurts and sufferings. Leon and I are ever mindful of this "both and" reality of our lives. Yet, we rejoice! And we are hope-filled!

As Job says, "God gives, God takes. God's name be ever blessed." (Job 1:21).

Blessed and JOYous Easter tidings to you all+

G & L

What a Dining Room Table Means to Me - An Essay by Gretchen

2007-03-04T17:39:00.000-05:00

We have been married nine years this June. In that time, we have been burdened with a fantastic quest; in truth in recent years, the quest seemed rather endless and we really despaired of ever seeing it through.

What was this Holy Grail of ours?

To find the perfect dining room table.

Not something that would "pass" or with which we could just "make do" until, magically like manna from the sky I suppose, some other table would drop in front of us ~ but a table that was at once perfect and useable, upscale and family friendly, modern and traditional ... something we want until we are 95, something that our kids can crayon all over and our family can gather around for holidays and feasts and Tuesday night soup. The kind of table that makes you want to sit a little longer; drink another glass of wine, and never, ever say "Let's go sit on comfortable chairs, eh?"

We found it. And on Saturday it was delivered.

A dining room table (and of course matching buffet, hutch, arm chairs, etc.) is one of those pieces of furniture that can make you feel pretty elderly. Truthfully. We danced around the living room singing, "We're so old!"

I mean really, the things are so solid ~ and you never really get rid of a great dining room table. Like family at the holidays, it's there to stay and its residence can be obnoxious or endearing and beloved.

We think we've got a winner.

Now, this is not to suggest that we have eaten on the floor or at a card table for nine years. The table we have used lo' these many years belonged to the Grandmother of Jack Fish. And it has a story that illustrates the point; if a table can set a bar - Grandma Fish's table came with an excellent pedigree ~ our new table has much to live up to.

I taught with Jack at Milwaukee Lutheran. He was in his late forties when he decided to return to Seminary, and he and his wonderful wife packed up their home and headed for a small apartment in St. Louis. Grandma's table went to a pair of newlyweds (along with the Fish's washer/dryer) and the Fish's went on to a new life. We were so thrilled. It came with chairs and everything. It was enormous and in need of refinishing (who has time, I cried ~ let's paint it to match our funky earthy dining room!) and the chairs were in quite a state. But it's served us well.

I love Grandma's table. I never knew this woman, but having gathered around her family table for nines years I feel a bit of an affinity towards her. And really ~ what a table. For starters, it is absolutely enormous. It has this fantastic leaf that actually folds right into the table (a neat trick our new table doesn't do ~ and we now have a leaf in our front closet). The pedestal underneath is large enough for a toddler to sit on comfortably (and most of you know this is important because there is nothing quite as cool as a fort under a solid, fortress like dining table). There's a story with this table, it has a sense of history. Apparantly, Grandma wasn't this table's first owner, either. And the insane thing is, the table doesn't shimmy or shake, it's as solid as the day it was constructed. Amazing.

I wanted a new table that was as enduring as Grandma Fish's table. I want a table that has potential to have a story.

And now we have one. And it's extremely exciting.

I suppose this makes me ancient, or just really, really odd. Getting all jazzed about a dining room set (well, that and I just voluntarily used the word "jazzed") but it's so much bigger than a table. It's about permanence and family ties and communal times to come.

So, we'll get back with you in a few years to let you know how she's holding up. In the meantime, I'm headed for the crayons ...

Mardis Gras

2007-02-20T13:54:00.000-05:00

Those who know us well, know that New Orleans is a city dear to our hearts.

We first visited as newlyweds on our honeymoon and the combination of music, food, history, and soul was addictive. We have since journeyed to New Orleans every year of our married life at least once (but usually far more times).

We love everything about New Orleans, from the feel of the French Quarter to the touch of the breeze on your face as you stroll along the levy and the Mississippi glides along beside you; from the grand houses along Saint Charles to the funky painted river shacks along Burgundy.

We love the people of New Orleans, who demonstrate an exuberance (even since the storm) that cannot be described in words. They have a gracious hospitality that makes you feel at home. They have a sense of tradition, family, and love for living that is downright infectious and makes you tap your foot, join along and (if you're lucky) carry just a bit of the South home with you.

We love the food ~ of course ~ of New Orleans. Whether beignets at Cafe Du Mond in the early morning with a cup of steaming chickory coffee (even on 100 degree days), Turtle Soup au Sherry at Arnauds, Praline Bacon at tiny little breakfast haunts in Fobourg Marigny, Gumbo anywhere with the crusty French bread that is only found below sea level in New Orleans, waiting in line for a Mufaletta at Central Grocery, fried Pecan pie and burgers at the Camillia Grill at the end of the St. Charles Streetcar line in the Garden District, Alligator Sausage Cheesecake at Jacques Imos Uptown, a Po-Boy from Mother's where the one hour wait even on a steamy summer afternoon is worth every minute, the Avacado Shrimp salad at the Napoleon House, Bread Pudding at Commander's Palace, even a Lucky Dog consummed on Bourbon street at 2AM ~ food just tastes better in New Orleans.

Music. When Katrina was coming, and Ivan the summer before (yes, Gretchen has been there for each) ~ what you noticed first (besides your favorite Daquiri stand closing on Bourbon) was the silence. The music stopped. In the months after Katrina, it has taken time ~ but the music is back in the Quarter. What a sound. Preservation Hall is the best ~ where you have to tip $20 to hear "The Saints" but you won't ever hear the song the same way again. Or taking a ride over to Frenchman's Street for an evening at Snug Harbor ~ where Ellis Marsalis is know to drop in a few nights a week. Street musicians abound ~ some better than others ... the best can be found in the mid-afternoon at Cafe du Mond. And don't let them fool you ~ they'll take your tips, but if you want a CD (and yes, you will want) they can whip out the credit card machine before your VISA leaves your wallet.

There's just something about New Orleans.

It's Mardis Gras ~ and most folks outside of the South don't get Mardis Gras ... it's an intensely family-oriented celebration. Our friends in New Orleans are loving today, sort of a mid-year Thanksgiving. And we celebrate with them. We've got a great batch of Gumbo going on the stove, and french bread. We're picking up our King Cake (and here in Saint Louis you HAVE to call a real bakery and ask for the traditional almond paste King Cake ... traditional cakes don't have crazy fruit filling like Soulard's "traditional" cake claims!) and we will celebrate family, food .... so as the Cajun's say "Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Let the good times roll!

A Life Most Deliberate ~ Resolute

2007-02-18T21:32:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, Leon and I determined that the word "resolute" would be an important word in our marriage relationship.

Denotatively, the word means: marked by firm determination; bold, steady, faithful

Connotatively ~ it translates into deliberate living. Waking early to eat breakfast together ~ even when the snooze button is calling. Making time to exercise together ~ even when the work pressures seem debilitating. Creating that special meal from scratch ~ and always remembering to light candles at the dinner table, even on a Tuesday. Remembering to pick up a bottle of strawberry milk at the market ~ especially when making a mad dash to grab a few necessary items on the way to or from ... we always seem to be going to and from.

The days that I live deliberately are my favorite. The days that I wake early. Eat breakfast. Read my Bible. Listen to NPR on the way to work ~ and listen to quiet on my way home. Find time for a heart pounding exercise and trying out a new recipe ... unwinding at the end with a favorite TV show and a glass of Dad's Norton ... those are the days I love. Nothing special ~ just deliberate living.

Tonight, I found time for yoga practice and a leisurely bath ~ I am writing in my kitchen while a pot of white chili bubbles on the range (and frankly, the aroma is amazing! Yum-o!) ... waiting for Leon to arrive home from what seems to be a great night at youth group (Overtime, and the activity is a game called "Sardines" ~ he already wrote a text message to proclaim the night a brilliant triumph!) ... "Frank's Place" on the XM radio (and the thrill of seeing the TiVo light on capturing my favorite Sunday night programs: Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters ... don't you just love time shifting!) I love evenings such as these, particularly on Sundays ~ the week actually begins with a semblance of order and calm. I like that.

To some, this probably sounds dreadfully dull. I can name a few friends who will read this and say "you need kids" ... and some day, God willing, we will have them! And then, we will redefine what a life "resolute" feels like, the pace and ebb and flow will be drastically changed ~ but the core value ... living with deliberate intent won't change (at least we hope so as "old" parents in our mid-thirties ... hopefully that's one perk!)

So, as the week begins ~ here's to deliberate living. Enjoy your own version of a life resolute.

SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW!

2007-02-13T19:08:00.000-05:00

If I could sing the title of this blog to you ~ which unfortunately I cannot ~ you would hear my one-woman rendition of the blended tones of the cast of White Christmas heralding nature's greatest winter gift ~ that's right, SNOW!

Today finds Leon and I tucked in at home enjoying an inside view of the white powder drifting down ~ and it's still coming!

It was one of those excellent days ~ 8 hours of productive time in the home office, challenging yoga practice, soothing hot chocolate ... and now, time for blogging before preparing dinner.

What am I thinking about this evening? (Aside from wondering why Katie Couric's eyes look so bizarre on tonight's evening news ...)

In my current graduate class, Media & Culture, this week is George Gerbner week. You might be familiar with Gerbner as the "media violence guy" ~ he has been tracking television violence for decades and is the creator of a theory known as the "mean world syndrome." Good stuff, provocative and worthy of chatter.

I just finished reading an article by Gerbner, Reclaiming Our Cultural Mythology (http://www.context.org/ICLIB/IC38/Gerbner.htm) in which he discusses how the systematic "homogenization" of media has caused a loss of the central story of society.

I am not entirely sure how I think about this ... just the other evening I said to Leon ~ and not in the positive way ~ "what would we be doing without the Internet?" By that I meant, would we know our neighbors better? Would we have our families over for longer, lingering meals? Would that stack of "must read" novels be conquered more rapidly? Gerbner suggests that we used to gather our sense of issues and society from many sources ~ and now he says we rely only on media that exists to sell things. He suggests that the effects on our future will be profound.

But what if the new media IS telling the cultural story? It certainly is different ~ and unlike anything that has gone before ~ but is it really that far off base?

Or is it that we are learning to share, receive, and respond in new ways? Without blogs, would I know as much as I do about my sister who lives hundreds of miles away? Would I care about the daily status of my friends if not for Facebook? Without new technologies, I would mindlessly learn about presidential candidates, whereas now Barack Obama's site asks me to create my own blog to respond to his platform ...

As with every age, we need to proceed with caution, but perhaps our cultural myth is alive and well ~ just online ... I don't know. It's a careful balance, I suppose. And there are times when I wonder about our common pulse as a people ... in my class forum I wrote,

"Does society WANT a story-teller? Or does society equate a central story-teller with a loss of diversity? How do we tell a grand, sweeping cultural story in today's America that (seemingly) demands total devotion to concepts of diversity (and by association) autonomy? Do we have a cultural meta-narrative yet to tell?I think we do. Disturbingly, perhaps media IS telling us the story of our culture. Do we like it? Are we content with it? Those are different questions."

Just the musings of this wintry night ... I think I'll go prepare that supper ...

Onward & Upward!

It's a Je Je Jejune world ...

2007-02-02T21:43:00.000-05:00

I'm enjoying a wintry February Friday night.

Watching Frasier reruns and skimming a few cookbooks for this week's menus ~ when the word "jejune" caught my mind, and I realized that was my day. I accomplished things, a major paper written, work projects crossed off the never-ending "to-do" list ... nothing sensational.

Still, devoid of interest and significance as it was, I wanted to keep the accolades from dear readers coming (those who are stunned by my sudden prolific blogging) and so, here I am!

I have been home all day; but without Leon home takes on a different aspect.

Leon is currently in Indiana on a major interview for a ministry position at a thriving, energetic congregation in Columbus, Indiana. The next months could be interesting ~ and that, too, is tugging my thoughts toward contemplation of "home" ...

I seem to be going through a homebody phase ~ meaning that I far prefer snuggling in at home to any other activity. It must be the winter that brings on this desire for cocooning. Anyone who knows me probably realizes that is a bit of a shift for me. Certainly in terms of work, I am constantly required to be "on" ~ socializing, traveling, eating dinners that last far too long with complete strangers and being energetic, interesting, and engaging. I enjoy that part of my life, and have a certain aptitude for it, but I think it has led me to be even more protective of my time at home ...

Home is an important concept ~ a place, a thing, a feeling, people ... and there is nothing I love more than dishing up comfort food, wrapping in my quilt, talking about everything and nothing with Leon while the "mundane" routine wraps around us.

Home is far from jejune ... even when my daily grind is.