Fridays at First Day: Feed Your Belly, Feed Your Soul

I love the opportunity writing for The First Day offers me: a place to join the conversation on faith and practice and share personal experiences from my own journey.  As a devout Christian, I love to delve into serious issues of theology and doctrine.  But, in this post, I get back to basics.  There is an unavoidable link between our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual selves.  I think there is a common misconception that nurturing one of these aspects of our identity over others might be more important.  Without thinking, I might argue it is more important to spend quiet time with the Lord than eat a snack.  And then I wrote this post:

Feed Your Belly, Feed Your Soul

I have no problem eating when I finally get around to it. I just wish I only had to eat because I wanted to and not because I devolve into a walking Super Grumpy Pants when I do not. And, not only do I have to eat regularly to keep my metabolism and mood in check, I have to eat the right types of foods.  Read more...

Fridays at First Day: Letting Go in the Rain

I am certain every single one of you can relate to this.  Especially parents.  And, most especially, moms.  It is so easy to let ourselves get super emotionally wrapped up in the little things.  We take pride in our children and in our homes and in our life's work.  When things go bonkers (and they do at least 27 times a day) we take it to heart.  I think that is completely acceptable as long as we carefully place these moments in that safe place in our heart where life makes us smile.  The mud can be washed away, the dog won't be a pup forever, and our little ones grow up and change at least 27 times a day.  Will you walk with me and learn to let go in the rain?

Letting Go in the Rain

Not that long ago, a series of events like this would have caused me to literally scream and want to pull out my hair. I would have become frustrated beyond belief, feigning calmness to my children between clenched teeth. I would have grumbled and stomped, feeling guilty all along that I couldn’t keep it together. But this time, I laughed it off, chalked it up to the craziness of this beautiful life.  Read more...

Fridays at First Day: The Truth About Santa

I am thrilled to announce that I will be writing weekly for The First Day, an online magazine and quarterly print publication focusing on art, culture, faith and practice.  The content and collaboration excites me and I will be sure to share my "Fridays at First Day" each week here on my blog.

This week's post might stir up a bit of controversy, but more than that I just hope it gives you a glimpse into my life and how I am attempting to live it to the fullest.  Please follow the title link below to the rest of the article on The First Day and do not hesitate to comment over there, no matter how you feel.  Comments are always appreciated.

The Truth About Santa 

We still share Christmas stories and songs about Santa, but we don’t bring his character to life in the ways many parents choose to do. We don’t encourage our kids to write him letters or rile them up when he makes an appearance. We don’t build up the idea of receiving a huge pile of presents on Christmas morning. And, we never employ him as a behavioral tool, threatening that his affection would be based on “how naughty” or “how nice” the kids are during the year.  Read more.

Check back next week for another Friday at First Day, starring The Grinch!

She Shook My Hand

Peas.  I was feeding him peas.  Paw prints.  There were blue paw prints on his bib.  The rest was a blur.  A blur of brown sweaters dotted with dancing glasses filled deep with red wine.  The house was warm, cozy, I guess, and swimming in a din I did not discern.  All I could see was my very young son in a very old high chair eating chunky baby food.  All I could hear was everyone else enjoying themselves.

"Shaun and his new girlfriend are here."  My husband's voice snapped my glazed eyes into focus and I turned my head toward him.  He looked so good in a fresh cranberry pullover and dark blue jeans.  I needed to go shopping.  I had nothing nice to wear.

I returned my attention to the pureed peas.  My cousin always had someone new to show off during the holidays.  I was not particularly amused and I pretended my interest was not piqued.  When they finally entered the kitchen for introductions, I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs and casually waved the baby spoon.   

"Hi, I'm Lindsey!" She was impossibly tiny and tan, busty and blonde.

"Hi."  My eyes met hers.  They were blue, too.

After a rush of pleasantries flush with compliments, the air settled and I could smell the peas, again.  My husband leaned in close and whispered, "What was her name?"

"I already forget.  It's not like we will need to remember.  He'll bring someone else to Christmas."

* * * * *

Peaches.  I was feeding him peaches.  Snowflakes.  There were gray snowflakes on his bib.  I was sitting near the radiator and could feel both its warmth and the draft from the window.  My hands were cold.  The radio had just begun to play "White Christmas" when the phone rang.  It was my dad.  

"Sweetie, I have some terrible news.  Shaun and Lindsey were in a car accident."

"Lindsey?"

"Shaun's new girlfriend.  You met her on Thanksgiving."  My dad paused, probably displeased.

"I remember her, of course."

"Shaun is fine, well, he is not hurt, but Lindsey...they flew Lindsey to Shock Trauma.  She is in a coma."

My mind reeled in rewind, replaying that one moment I met her.  Her hair was in a bun.  She put her arm around my cousin.  She kissed my baby on the head.  She shook my hand.  She smiled.  Her eyes were blue.

"They were on their way to Aunt Sherry's for dinner or something.  It was last night, when it was raining.  Shaun was driving his truck.  It happened on Highland Parkway and Front Street."

I couldn't process what he was saying.  I shook my head to make sense of the words.  He was driving.  She might die.  But, I would never forget Lindsey's name now.

"Where?"

"On Highland, in front of the Dunkin' Donuts."

From that day forward, every time I drove past that street corner, I thought of her.

__________________________________________________________________________________

This piece is a work of fiction loosely based on a true story and written in response to a weekly writing prompt.  Four and a half years ago, my cousin and his new girlfriend were in a car accident.  The real life Lindsey is alive and well, but I am unclear how well she is.  All I know was that her head injury was severe and her recovery process long.  She and my cousin did not remain together.

My Kingdom for a Squeezy Yogurt

Today was a "hang-around day" as the girls and I call it.  My preschooler was home sick and so errands and outings were put on hold in exchange for paramount pretending and a healthy amount of television.

We played "resturnaut" (restaurant), "checker" (store) and celebrated everyone's birthday at least once with invitations, cake, tea and presents.  Overall, besides being extra intense, it was an enjoyable day.  My youngest refused to nap, I took my on-duty power shower at 5pm, and I never unloaded the dishwasher, but all of that is fine with me.

I just don't want to get sick.

Because Friday, I get to pretend to be grown up.  I get to catch a train to New York for a day-long conference.  I get to wear clothes I haven't worn since I was working.  I get to network with other like-minded women.  I get to hear perspectives from some of the most innovative Christian thinkers and writers today.  I even get to visit with a lifelong friend and eat multiple meals in real "resturnauts."  If I had a beret, you might just catch me tossing it into the Manhattan air as I stroll down the bustling streets.

And while I know that God has me right where He wants me, I obviously continue to struggle with being "just a mom".  It can be challenging to accept serving "squeezy yogurts" as Kingdom work.  I know I could be doing even more to serve this world and those who live in it.  The question is: should I?

Coincidentally, the conference is all about Women and Calling.  What roles are women meant to have in this world?  Any one they desire?  How do we balance work outside the home with that for our families?  Do we "Lean In"?  Do we "Lean Out"?  Do we "Shake It All About?"

Because, clearly, despite our best efforts, we cannot do it all.  But, for some reason, I still try.

Like today, I got an email from the conference requesting a title, bio and headshot to enhance our online presence at the conference.  I immediately attempted to mentally craft my response in the whirlwind that is lunch, laundry, naps, and pooping shenanigans during naps.  And since I wasn't in the best head space, I came up with something along the lines of:

Mommy (Miss Kristin) is never alone.  She can be found constantly correcting her "clients" both two-legged and four.  When everyone is actually sleeping she spends her free time planning for positions that she gets paid absolutely nothing to fill.  While Kristin met her husband in college, she barely recognizes who she remembers she was at that time. She will always be a "Balti-moron" at heart even though her husband's successful career may move them away one day.  Her happy place is at her blog, Kristin Has Two Eyes (which are probably closed.  Shh.  She's napping.)


But, don't fret.  This is what I submitted instead:

Kristin LeFeber is a stay-at-home mom to her two young girls.  She leads both an adult house church and the preschool ministry at New Hope Community Church in Pikesville, MD.  Prior to domestic life, Kristin earned a B.S. in Education from Grove City College and worked as a Marketing Coordinator for the city of Baltimore where she and her family still live.  She can be reached at www.kristinhastwoeyes.blogspot.com


Wish me (whoever I am) well. Like, literally. I really don't want to get sick!

Stealin' and Four-Wheelin'

I am not a risk taker.

And so, every year I turn down the opportunity to go four-wheeling in the woods surrounding my college roommate's central Pennsylvania cabin.  My husband usually goes out and I did go with him once.  I didn't dare drive.  I rode behind hugging him tight and clamoring through clenched teeth, "I don't like it.  I don't like it."

But this year, I was motivated to go again by jealousy and a beautiful day.  See, I completely trust my husband and while he is far from an experienced four-wheeler, I didn't hesitate to let him take our daughter out for a little ride. When they returned they excitedly showed me the view from the top of the hill behind the house and I knew I wanted to see it, too.

The view I just had to see for myself.

And so I went.  Camera strapped tight to my back and helmet strapped tight to my head, the hubs and I made our way through the trees that glowed golden in the fresh autumn air.  At the top, we stopped to take pictures and relax a bit, finally on vacation from our kids and our cares.  

City girl four-wheelin' in the country.

Enthused by reaching the summit and comfortable with our girls safe at the cabin with our friends, I actually asked for more.  We headed off back down the mountain and found a large corn field to explore.  After awhile we stopped again to get artsy fartsy with our camera because that's what you're supposed to do when you go four-wheeling, right?

Artsy fartsy feed corn.

And then, before I really even knew it, I plucked this and another ear of corn as a souvenir.  We don't grow much corn in Baltimore and I ignorantly believed taking two ears of feed corn was akin to picking two dandelions out of the cracks of someone's driveway.

It is not.

Within seconds of hopping back on the four-wheeler, a red sedan screeched off the road and approached us on the trail.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded as she emerged from her car.

"Uh, uh," my husband stammered, "We are friends of the..."

"Kellers!" I offered, remembering my friend's parent's name first.  I pointed back in what I thought was the general direction of the cabin.

"Eh heh." The woman grunted.  "I see.  I also see you have helped yourself to some corn.  Eh."

I clutched the ears, a bit buttered with guilt.

Chivalry is not dead and my husband came to my defense.  "Oh.  Well, we just thought they would be nice for decorating."

We did?

"Heh.  Fine."  Flashing us one more threatening hairy eyeball, she left.

It is unclear where she came from, but she certainly ended our fun.  And I am not sure whether she taught me to take even fewer risks or to take a few more.  But I do know that our door looks smashing this season.

Back over at Yeah Write where writers blog and bloggers really write.  Click on the button below to read the other awesome posts linked up this week.

Just Another Rainy Thursday

It rained ALL DAY.  In fact, it is still raining.  Thankfully, I thought to schlep out in the middle of the day to retrieve firewood and let it dry out.  As I write this, my fingers and toes are toasty from our first of many fires this season.

The rain made the morning a bit mundane.  Neither the kids nor I were feeling all that energetic or creative. They had some success playing games together.  I tried to get a few things done around the house.  My blatant disregard for my children during these brief intervals caused them to immediately crank and fuss and, all of a sudden, no game was good enough.  I put on Diego.

The rain rewarded us in the afternoon with extended quiet time.  I got my work done.  I read my book.  I listened to the sound of the rain against the window and then realized that was all I could hear.  My oldest rarely actually sleeps during nap time anymore and that is just as well.  We all get our breaks even though mine is to the soundtrack of her constant narrative.  But, today she had looked very tired and I was glad she had succumbed.  Our upcoming weekend will be busy as was our previous one.

Just as I dozed off myself, I heard her cry out in alarm, "Mommy!  Mommy!"  I knew she had woken up, confused in a fuzz after midday sleep.  I scaled the steps in that quick way only someone who lives here can, and found her sitting up on her bed.

"It's OK, baby, " I whispered, my other baby still down.  "You fell asleep today.  You feel weird?  Come here, lie back down with Momma."

She quickly obliged and told me she was cold.  I wrapped us both tight and she snuggled deep into my arms, her face to my chest.  Only a few minutes later, she was fast asleep, her cute lips slightly parted, her breath sweet on my skin.  I was in heaven, cradling her little body and stroking her soft, orange hair.

I closed my eyes, but then she shifted abruptly and I knew it would end.  I looked down at her and found her looking up at me in genuine surprise.

"Mommy, why are you in here?" she asked with a smile.  "I didn't know you were here."

I started to explain what had happened, but the longer I spoke the more concerned she looked.  So I paused.

And then, my four-and-a-half-year-old angel, baby doll peed all over herself, the bed, and me.

A not so noble steed

Do penguins have lips?  This is a question I found myself pondering Saturday night while driving home from a date with my husband.  I don't think they do, but the penguin toy we bought for our dog while out together seems to.  He is really cute (our dog, the toy and my husband.)  We haven't bought either of our girls any Christmas presents yet, but Ben (the dog) is set.

Do I call the police or a tow truck?  This is an entirely different question I found myself pondering Sunday afternoon while lodged in an off ramp embankment.  Apparently, if you call the police (or let the angel-of-a-chick truck driver who saw the whole thing call them for you) they call a tow truck.  I had never been in an accident before.  It's hardly a bucket list kind of thing, but I suppose I can now check it off for 2012.

I'm not completely certain what happened.  I know the weather was to blame.  I know I closed my eyes right before the car hit the guard rail.  I know I ended up trunk deep in damp grassy knoll.  The rest can somewhat be pieced together by the iPhone footage I had the "presence of mind" (read "wonky adrenaline laden brain") to capture before I even thought to call my husband.  Brilliant. Thankfully, Carissa, the aforementioned truck driver, was kind enough to pull over and help guide me through the remaining process.  

A police officer also arrived on the scene before too long.  As she ambled closer and closer to the car I felt instant relief, not because I knew she could help, but because I became absolutely certain that she was, indeed, a woman.  Never underestimate the power of ascertaining someone's gender.  It really ups the comfort level in these types of situations. 

I should mention that my 3-year-old was with me when all of this occurred.  She, unlike me, stayed calm the entire time, simply noting that despite having to hold on to her car seat very tight her tiara didn't even fall off.  Thankfully, a great friend was able to come by and take her to the birthday party we had been attempting to attend in the first place.  I am grateful her little world kept turning without missing too many beats.

I was also grateful that I got to attend the princess party (the car was towed out of the ditch, but remained drivable) because it meant I was greeted with warm coffee, a huge piece of chocolate cake and smiling faces.  Of course, it also meant I cried all over again as my nerves defrosted off of me and landed in the arms of my friends, moms and dads like me, who just want to get through the day in one piece.

And, somehow, we always do.