Luckybeans

A Day in the Life: Sunday

We needed a slow morning, a gentle start, time for each of us to simply be in our own space and on our own time. New yogurt with raspberry sauce, reading, the last phone call from Simon for three weeks as he travels to Malawi, my lilac finally blooming through the kitchen window.

When we finally all roused ourselves, the children were in a MOOD. Goofy, silly, exuberant, (maniacal?). Not a minute passed without giggling leading to hysterics. This sort of energy leaves me wary. I asked them to gather and come out to help in the garden. I mowed the lawn, stained my hands green, and added a thick green layer to the compost bin. The children worked on pulling grass and laying out leaves in the woodland bed. They were awful. They whined and fought and teased each other mercilessly and complained. I was almost in tears. To be fair, though, it was mostly Asher and Bella. Ana figured out what was what and beat a hasty retreat. Finally, I cordonned off areas, designated work procedures, and generally treated them like (naughty) four year olds. Ana helped nudge them in the right direction, and I went inside to put plasters on my newly acquired blisters (we don't seem to have any dignified plasters in this house).

I think tea fixes everything. It must. Well, I have to put my faith in something, and there are few things lovelier than tea. So I made us tea for lunch, and soon the grumpiness once more gave way to giddiness. A bit too much giddiness (practising French gave way to "do you think i can lick the dirt off of my elbow?!"). Sigh. I did try to remind them it was a Holy Day. Time to get moving.

On the drive up to Grandma's, they began to settle into jolly excitement, and that I can handle. Asher observed that two odd numbers added together always make an even. He is right. I had never thought of that. Clever boy. We admired Daddy's favourite hill. We stopped to watch the bees on the edge of the hazelnut orchard, so very busy in their oak grove. The children ran up and down the rows of trees for a bit before I let them back into the car. 

On arriving, I did warn my mother that the children were in fine form. They were sent to the mailbox, but that didn't prove sufficient exercise. Further tea helped a bit, followed by a walk to inspect what is blooming (the cammas isn't quite yet) and a scramble up and down the fallen tree.

We rounded them up and went to celebrate the Ninth Day of Ridvan at Leslie and Kevin's. It was glorious. Delicious middle-eastern food, beautiful Writings, children singing, Bach on the piano, nightingale songs looped in the background, mounds of flowers...Asher and Bella sat in the "Narnia chair" and did not even poke each other during the program. A wealth of beauty and joy, laughter and peace.

And afterwards, a farm to frolic in and run around. Chickens and puddles of cats, gardens and friends, music and baby goats (sorry, no photos! I know!). We did not get home until almost nine, but it was worth every second that we lingered on. Some days fluctuate so much as they meander through their course, their rhythm seems so odd and different. I need to learn to have more faith in the shape of things, even if I don't immediately recognise it.

Also, I am now a day behind. I'm sorry, but an image-heavy post like this takes me around two hours, and I just don't have the time to keep up right now. I'll get there...

 

 

A Day in the Life: Saturday

7:06 I slept in today! It is not a real morning without a morning snuggle from my boy. Quickly followed by tea with Mum, miso soup for breakfast, and a good while spent chatting in our pajamas. Saturday morning means weekly chores are finished up: floors swept and mopped, shopping lists made in preparation for the week, bedrooms and bathrooms all clean and tidy (although the children did their bath and bedrooms yesterday, which left more visitng with Grandma time today). 10:15 and we head out the door to get them to Children's Classes on time.

10:28 Children delivered, bank run made. Mum and I stop by the Farmer's Market to collect eggs and cheese, then walk down the street to our local bakery. Simon and I come here most Saturdays after dropping the children off. I am grateful for the company. We have a long talk, and excellent chocolate croissants. We also admire the old fir floors and the blue of the ceiling. We walk to the river to see how full it is (quite). We also stop by the magical book store. We leave empty-handed, but I vow to return soon with the children.

12:00 Children are met, and puppets they've been working on duly introduced. Maureen was born in 1847 and is grumpy. Sir Proboscus is ridiculous. Rango and Nemo seem to be up to no good whatsoever, but Fred (or was it Frank?) is thoroughly charming. We do the week's shopping on the way home. I am shamefully reminded that I need to figure out what happened to my mesh produce bags. Also, that six pound bag of candy is not for our consumption, thank you very much. We return home and have tuna fish sandwiches, well accompanied, for lunch.

Mum stays for a last cup of tea. We have a sad moment when Asher accidentally shoots the arrow over the fence. He has forgotten to face the barn, so it goes into the neighbour's yard. He feels awful and I hear him shouting tearful apologies before I even figure out what is happening. The neighbour, well-meaning, passes it back and remarks "It missed the dog by only six inches, you should be more careful!" Asher absolurely crumbles and runs upstairs where he hid in a ball in his closet. I explained that no harm had been done (no harm could have been done-- it was through a thick hedge and the arrow had no tip), and he had learned from his mistake. "Will you make that same mistake again?" I asked him. "Yes!" he wailed in despair. I assured him he would not, but it still took him ten minutes to emerge again, damp and somewhat bruised on the inside. As he gets bigger, I sometimes forget the sensitive wee boy who still lingers in his expanding frame. 

2:00 Grandma headed out to visit Grandpa, and any number of domestic activities ensued. It was announced that the best way to slide down the stairs is in footie pajamas, so the girls spent the rest of the afternoon suitably attired. Ana dried lemon balm time for tea, screen time was had, yogurt was made, homework undertaken, great fun had with both dragons and dragon fruit; even the beloved pot was soundly scrubbed (I never promised a day in my life would be exciting-- only accurate).

4:00 I went out to the garden and filled the pots for the back (Asher always enjoys digging in the gravel).

We learned at the last minute that we were hosting Feast. Thank heavens I made a pie this morning and the chores were done. It began at 6:30. We retold the story of Ridvan as some of the children hadn't been at the previous Holy Day, and the boys ran riot in the backyard until the sun began to go down (after doing a wonderful job during the readings and prayers).

8:15 After sunset and ascertaining just how much progress Ana has made on the guitar (an astonishing amount), we climbed back into bed to watch an episode of Victorian Pharmacy, which seems to have inspired the slathering on of homemade lotion. Such a full day. Such a good day. I think I will sleep soundly tonight.

 

It is Ridvan!

That precious, sweet, beloved, King of Festivals! Blessed days when, in a rose covered garden of an isalnd, in air filled with perfume and the ceaseless singing of nightingales, Baha'u'llah told the world that He had come! 

This year we were able to host the first of the twelve days in our home. My mother came down bearing roses, the children practised songs with their children's class and told the story for everyone using our needle-felted Ridvan garden. All the children were able to participate. Prayers were said, songs listened to and sung, friends both young and old came and enjoyed special words and food and fellowship.

The day was bright, sunny and warm. Tadpoles were discovered in our garden! Friends stayed until dinner, then for dinner, which they cooked for me with greens from our garden. Those are Good Friends.

As these sweetest of days unfold, I am continually reminding myself to seek the beauty and the joy and the light and the love that surrounds us (it isn't always easy, especially with Simon away, hence the continuous nature of the reminders). But, oh, the evidence is here! The rosemary is buzzing with bees, the euphorbia and veronica are going full tilt!

Beginning tomorrow, I am joining two dear friends in a belated start to A Week in the Life (although I may not post/link over there. Is that allowed? I am dismally uninformed regarding blog etiquitte). Which means I will be here every day for the next week. I hope! With all of the nitty-gritty bits, too. Because in the end, I don't really want to forget them, either.

Dear Ones,

There is a lot of catching up to do. I have fallen behind in this little corner, and I do apologise-- I will do my best to try to catch up and be a more reponsible reporter of the innane this week.

Today was a glorious day. The sun shone with deep warmth. I woke up and went running out to breathe in air that felt so very different. Bella was grumpy, so I told her "Go outside! Just smell the air this morning." She glowered at me, but did. And she came in with a wide smile. "You are right! It smells happy!"

It was a full day, a blessed day, the second in this King of Festivals, Ridvan (more on this, too, soon I hope). I planted five wild rose bushes before 9am, and hung out three loads of laundry on the washing line.

We went to Philomath to participate in Junior Youth animator training (me), go on home visits (Ana and Bella) and play with new friends (Asher). We diverged and reconverged and returned home with full hearts and grateful spirits.

We skyped Daddy in Puerto Rico and Lukas and April in St. Lucia and were, for once, content to be in our own clime as we ate outside and watched the sun set over the tulips.

These are busy days, and we are on our own until June. But they are beautiful, full, satisfying days, too, so I am hoping we remember to bask in them to the fullest extent we can manage.

The Transformative Power of Eggs

It has been a long break between Hidden Words here, and I can only say that this was due to that equally long stream of Ayyam'i'Ha-Fast-Naw Ruz-Spring Break that seems to have diverted our focus in other directions.

I have also been thinking a lot about why we do this, and why discussing the Hidden Words is so important to me as a mother. First and foremost, I want to point out that for the purpose of this (albeit one-sided) conversation, the fact that we use the Hidden Words specifically is not of paramount importance. What matters to me is that there is a dedicated time and space in which we mindfully address the spiritual nature of ourselves at an individual level, the world around us, and how we should interact with it. The Hidden Words are beautifully created to facilitate precisely this, and that is why I continually fall back on them. But what I absolutely cannot do without is the integration of spiritual reality into our daily lives. These writings provide a window through which to view ourselves, those around us, and how the world works. We end up exploring everything from art to science to nature to history to gardening all in one smooth stream of inquiry, and this is how it should be. This life on this earth is all about exploring and learning and discovering, on mulitple levels and in multiple ways, and they are all aspects of a single reality. It is with this sense of purpose that I approach these little exercises and activities, but in doing so, I also try to address my greatest fear. If I fail to teach my children this fundamental unity of life, and its importance to their own spiritual reality, I will truly feel as if I have failed as a mother. So I may fall off for a while, but I hope I always manage to climb back on. It is not enough for me to tell them that they should be good or kind or brave or truthful in an abstract or idealised sense-- I need to know that they understand why, in the deepest aspect of themselves, they need to be true to their own beautiful, noble, spiritual selves.

In any case, without further ado:

Hidden Word Number Eighteen

O SON OF SPIRIT!

Ask not of Me that which We desire not for thee, then be content with what We have ordained for thy sake, for this is that which profiteth thee, if therewith thou dost content thyself.

~Baha'u'llah

Discussion:

First of all, I just love this one. It is such a source of comfort to me. So I asked myself why, and that lead to this week's questions and discussions. First and foremost, this Hidden Word focuses on humility, contentment, gratitude and understanding the Will of God. From previous weeks, we recalled just how much God loves us, and that He obviously wouldn't want to make us suffer for no good reason. So why do we get so sad and angry? Why is life so hard sometimes? We further discussed that there are two types of tests and difficulties in this life: the ones God gives us so that we can grow and change, and the ones we make for ourselves out of our own vanity/greed/short-sightedness, etc. It is our responsibility (and ability) to minimise the tests of our own making (ahem) and begin to understand the purpose of the tests God gives us as a chance for us to change and grow spiritually. These are enormous, difficult themes, and I obviously cannot do them justice here, and we continue to discuss them on an ongoing basis. 

Activity:

Alright, this might seem a bit of a leap, but bear with me. One of the transformations that is easy and fun to witness can be found in eggs. Not fertilised eggs (although that could work, too), but the ones we use in cooking. I had the children think of all the different ways we use eggs: they provide the puff in a puff pancake, they can be fried, boiled, merengued, thickened into custard, scrambled...In other words, they are incredibly diverse in how they behave and what they are used for in cooking and baking. Now, how does this all work? We looked specifically at the process that an egg white goes through when it is beaten (a detailed explanation can be found here), and I was terribly impressed by my girls when they informed me that egg whites were protein molecules with a coiled structure. Little smarty-pants-nerds. Anyway, in the prolonged beating, the structure uncoils and incorporates air and transforms into something else entirely. Which can easily be applied to the effect tests can have on us. I don't imagine it would be a pleasant or easy process to have one's proteins uncoiled, but look at the resuilts!

Of course, we had to make a pavlova for this week. Partly becuase it illustrated the point so well, partly because it is so yummy, and partly because Bella desperately needed to use her new mixer. We also made a lemon curd using the egg yolks, which showed a completely different sort of transformation as the curd thickened (and yes, there is a layer of lemon curd underneath the strawberries and cream).

Both processes were longer than the children anticipated, but they were also exceptionally delicious and well worth the time and effort. So yes, baking can be a spiritual metaphor. And I think this is what I want them to see-- that everything, but everything, is beautiful and applicable in so very many ways.

 

Reflections

In our family, we have been thinking a lot about community. What it means to have a community, to be a part of one, to develop one. Yesterday we were invited to join the Linn-Benton County Baha'is for their reflection meeting as they came together and consulted on precisely this. Except that they are very far ahead of us, and they are looking at questions such as how do we expand our community and help each other in our daily lives more effectively? There were families who had taken in fragile youth and helped them on their way with grace and purpose. Youth who organised the junior youth in their neighborhoods and schools, junior youth who helped with children. It was a beautiful thing to see. Everyone focused and intent on how they could be of better service to those around them, how to continue to expand these circles of friends and families to support the larger community as a whole. It's not as if anyone had all the answers-- this was clearly a process that everyone from the grandmothers to the babies is participating in and dedicated to. And what I found most heartening is that this isn't about proclaiming some agenda; this is about providing people with the warmth and strength to do what they need to do for themselves. 

I kept thinking again and again about what it means to be a Baha'i. Truly, it means to love humanity and to strive to be of service to those around you. To continually direct those around you towards the good, the true, the whole. And this will not look the same for everyone. Baha'u'llah did not come only for Baha'is; this is about seeing where people are at, where they need to go, and trying to get there together. 

I am not very good at expressing these things. They are incredibly deep and difficult on one level, yet almost laughably simple on another. 

But. I am grateful to have connected with these people. My children came away full of spark and energy and eagerness to look for ways to serve those around them. Asher thought a lot about what it means to be a good friend and a positive influence to those around him-- a skill his sisters excel at, and one that he is beginning to identify with as part of who he is and how he is.

Lately, i have been wondering about this space and how I use it. Most of the blogs I read seem to focus more and more on the safe and insular (pretty products, recipes, what the baby did today). And I am not really satisfied with that. Perhaps it is a character flaw of mine-- I have never been one to leave well enough alone; I always want to dig a bit deeper, push that boundary a bit further. 

So all of this to say, I may be experimenting a bit here. It is not my agenda to offend or to push my views, But I do want to think deeply, really address what is going on around me. Because this world is often a horrible place to be, and I am thrusting my children right out into the thick of it, expecting them to be actively engaged in it, and equally actively influencing it. Sometimes this is terrifying and I wonder what I am even thinking. But mostly this is good and right, and I have so much to learn. I hope that I am not the only one...

 

 

 

Er, Happy Naw Ruz?

Some of you may recall that last year, Naw Ruz greetings meant children outside in front of a lush green field and a crepe party. Ha. Imagine having time to take photos of children. Imagine lush green outside. Imagine being able to take a day off.

This year, we are buried beneath an avalance of exams and end of term papers, and snow. Yes, this Naw Ruz you get a snowman, not quince blossoms. 

A while ago, there were a few patches of sunshine. Enough to give us glimpses of violets and bursts of gold forsythia. But this week has been keep your head down and bundle up well cold, bitter wind and biting sleet, and of couse (lest we forget) snow. 

I had thought to get photos of the sweet new lambs for you today. But they are clever and have not been out in the field all week. Far cleverer than some of us who have endlessly trudged back and forth to library and class in such foul weather.

But still. There is a little boy who has read his first chapter book all by himself, and snuggled up next to his daddy by the fire to hear more.

It is the season of ghastly chocolate bunny rabbit marshmallows.

Our candles (just!) lasted through to the last day of Fast.

And we did manage to fill our cones and bring a wee bit of colour and joy inside.

It is spring and a new year. Anything is possible. I have only one more paper to write. Simon didn't have to go to Ghana after all this week (no visas to be had). And March may have roared in like a lion, and remained stubbornly leonine thus far, but lambs have been born and the weather may change yet...

Blessings

Well. That little spot of sunshine did not last for long. We are back into days of snow and slush, sleet, hail, rain, mist, strong wind and all-around cold and grey. Dreary, dismal, dull. I think you understand. (Just to coincide with the Fast and finals, I am certain).

However, Simon gets home tonight for two whole days (we take what we can get). I am on my last two papers, two presentations and final exams. Seven more days of school, but who is counting?

This girl has been playing her heart out. She has gotten good. As in, it sounds like music now and is enjoyable. Especially when she tunes it beforehand. And yes, she does usually have a pencil in her hair and mud on her knees.

This girl has always had a love for bright colours on her person. Some things never change, and her latest finds do make me smile. I remember walking past piles of clothes in the sala ula markets in Zambia and Malawi and squinting. I would then bee-line for the brightest colours, just for her. It still works, except now we are Goodwill and find Mexican embroidered tops instead of oilily dresses. 

I suppose we are always surrounded by things that ought to remind us to be happy (raspberries in porridge are always good, no?). And I think I have been much more aware of that this week than I could have been. Although I will say that having my mother come down this past Saturday and whip both my house and my children into shape with her sunshine-self has serious repercussions. Good ones.

And although the Fast is always so hard, as we light a candle for each day before supper and say a prayer together, my heart feels full and I know we are all ok. We are more than ok. We are happy, we are good.

Blessings. 

Gift Giving

We live in such a materialistic society and age, I always struggle with gift giving.

I try to focus on giving to others, and then to make what gifts we do give smaller, and either meaningful, practical, or just plain silly (like mustaches on sticks; although Asher appreciated his Calvin and Hobbes, too--thanks!). I used to try to make many of their gifts, but this year all I managed was glueing buttons onto pushpins. However, I do set quite strict budgets for myself, and do not break them. This year the children each received an activity-based gift, something to wear, a book to read, a prayer book and new lunch bags from us. The lovely thing is how satisfied and happy they were with these simple gifts. They were just as eager and focused on giving to others as they were on what they received themselves. And by far the prevailing emotion was joyful gratitude, no matter the gift. Which I found somehow extremely reaffirming. Having opportunities to both express and be the recipient of generosity is an important aspect of life!

One of the absolute best gifts was a microscope set from my dad. With slides!

The other gift I wanted to share was the making of a photo book that I did. I took our digital photos from our last year in Zambia and compiled a photo book (with help from the blog archives! May 2006 to May 2007) on Viovio. It was slow, and a lot of work. But it was very very worth it. I didn't include text, as I wanted the children to generate their own discussions and memories. I also only started from that point because that was when we got a decent digital camera, and it just wasn't worth the previously poor quality. I hope they enjoy it. I hope it helps them to remember one of the most wonderful, richest, happiest times of our shared lives. One year down. How many more to go?

Keeping It Silly

When my brother and I were growing up, my father always devised a series of clues and puzzles that would (eventually) lead us to our Ayyam'i'Ha presents. It was terrific. Simon and I have followed suit, supplying our own children with various clues to lead them on to their own loot. This year we noticed an especially large ability gap between the problem-solving skills inherent in an eight year old and those possessed by a fourteen year old. So we opted for silly rather than smart.

Day one saw the children challenged by a laser course. They had to use all of ther ninja skills to make their way through the yarn-lasers, retrieve their present, and return unscathed and victorious! (The photos are horrid, it was night):

Day two they faced the horrendous zombie monster, relying on their stealthiness to sneak up and grab the map from its back pocket:

On day three, daddy told them they had to race to the balloons and retrieve their clues from inside each one (their individual balloons were marked with their individual mustaches, of course):

Only then he cut the strings as they dashed forward:

An additional clue led them to a long piece of string, a roll of tape and another balloon. Working together, they figured out how to use a tape-covered balloon to fish down their other balloons:

We then had our first experience inhaling helium (oh hilarity),

and extracted the necessary information to get presents.

Today they had to eat their way through a pile of whipping cream (no hands!) to uncover the code that opened the combination lock that protected the key that opened the door to their presents:

Silly, we have decided, is very good indeed.