Terrific Two's- Happy Birthday Naomi!

My little girl is two today. Two. I know all of the things that are said about this age. I've witnessed quite a few of these up close and personal. Not pretty.  Despite the bumps in the "learning to be more independent and willful" road, however, I LOVE this age. Actually, I've loved every one of her ages and stages. I loved when she was a newborn and nestled into me for safety and protection. I loved when she learned to sit up and balance on her little cushy bottom. I loved when she learned to crawl and explore her world (putting absolutely everything into her mouth). I loved when she said her first word- yeah- it was "Mommy". I loved when she learned to walk on her chubby little legs. And I love this age as well.

She's growing, she's talking, she's learning so much! Shapes, letters, counting, colors. She's learning that Daddy is the best for games of tag and that her little brother loves it when she tickles him. She's learning that Mommy will laugh and beam when she breaks out into spontaneous song. She's learning that pizza tastes best dipped in ranch dressing and that she doesn't actually have to eat those peas on her plate, but that Mommy is going to keep trying to get her to anyway. She's learning that sometimes, no matter how many times she says please, the answer is still no, unless she's asking Nana and then the answer is almost always yes. She's learning that we thank God before dinner and after dinner and at night we pray on our knees because we are so grateful. She's learning that the time-out chair is really not that fun of a place to be but that this knowledge doesn't always keep her from doing what she needs to avoid it. And I hope, most of all, she's learning that she is so abundantly loved.

Happy birthday to my precious girl! Looking forward to every moment I get with you in this year to come!

Sisters- A League of Their Own

I got a rare moment today to flip on the t.v. while both of my little ones napped at the same time. Apparently we are getting a free sample of movie channels because there they were, all inviting and stuff on this cold, rainy Monday. I flipped through them briefly and was elated to find "A League of Their Own" just starting!

If you haven't seen it, this movie is about the woman's baseball league started in the 40's when men were fighting in World War 2. I LOVE this movie. Love it. The athlete in me loves it. (Yes, for those who know me and find it hard to believe, I was once a basketball, softball and track team member.) The girly girl in me loves it. There's romance and dancing and missing far away husbands fighting in war. And, the sister in me loves it. Because, after all the baseball and the war stuff, the competition and conflict- this movie is about two sisters. Two wildly different sisters who love each other wildly and strongly and only in a way you can ever truly get if you are a woman and have a sister.

The climax of the movie is when the sisters' different teams meet in the World Series. The younger sister, who felt inferior to her more talented and beautiful older sister most of her life, hits the ball into the outfield, races the bases and ends up having to charge into her catcher sister (Gena Davis) in order to score to win the game. At this moment, Gena's character, who always, always catches the ball and makes the play, drops the ball and her sister scores and wins the game. It is left to be imagined if she actually dropped it on purpose, but I have always known she did.

When I was younger and saw this movie, I hated this moment. The competitive athlete in me knew that Gena Davis' character could easily have held the ball but chose to drop it so her sister could win. I didn't feel like I'd make the same choice. Relationships with loved ones can be mended- but come on! This was the World Series! You don't get that moment back!

Now, though? After the lessons I've learned, after the life I lived with my sister, after the difficulty of saying goodbye; now I see this movie in a different light. And I get why she did what she did. And I like to think that given the chance I would do the same.

Sisters really are a league of their own. Ask any woman who has a sister and whether that relationship is good or bad, she will most likely agree that her relationship with her sister affects her strongly. I was blessed to have an excellent relationship with my late sister, Meah, so much so that movies like this one, reduce me to tears now, because I miss her so deeply and I miss that relationship- a relationship that will never be replaced, no matter how many great girl friends I have. And we weren't perfect- we argued, we disagreed, and we could not have been more different. But, it doesn't really matter what views you agree or disagree on, or how far away you are, or when the last time you talked was. If you are sisters, there is some unwritten rule that you simply are there when you need to be. Always. Doesn't matter if the whole team is expecting you to hold the ball. Doesn't matter if it's the World Series or the Olympics. You just have to be there. That's what being in this League means.

I know too many people who have strained relationships with their sisters. I am praying, truly, often, that these relationships will be mended. I feel like it's a privilege to have been in this League, even for the short time I was. And if you're in this League- well, then, you're blessed my friend. And I hope you and your sister(s) are willing to drop the ball when it counts!

Vase of Thanks

I read the book and wanted it to change me. Instantly- a person with grateful attitude. But I am slow to learn and quick to lean on my old ways. So when the dishes pile and the toddler wakes at 4:00 am and my husband disappoints and I disappoint I am not thankful. Not grateful. Instead I grumble and complain and pity myself and worry too much.

I am trying.

Today I read her blog and try again. Ignore the dishes and instead grab a plastic red art caddy and empty it of the crayons and glue. Write the word "Eucharisteo" (give thanks) on paper and tape it on. I wish my handwriting were better but I feel glad anyway. Glad at the step I am taking again. Glad to keep trying. And the infant watches as I cut papers into various sizes of various colors and fill the caddy. Then I plop in some pens, too. He smiles like he understands when I explain this will help us give thanks. I smile back and feel thankful for him right to my bones.

I place the caddy on the dining room table and fight the feeling of doubt that this will be another failed attempt. I am hopeful. The rest of the day I am hopeful.

When we sit down to dinner, my husband, the kids, my mom and I all joined around a table, talking and laughing and eating, I hesitate, then plunge in and explain the "Eucharisteo" caddy.

"I thought, "I explain, "I thought that after dinner we could each write down some things we are thankful for and then put the papers..." I hadn't thought that far, but suddenly I decide they would look nice in a vase. A vase of thanks.  So I grab a large vase, too large for most of the flowers that make their way into our home but maybe the right size to hold our thanks for a little while. I place it on the table next to the caddy and feel great.

I am trying.

Reuben loves the idea and mom does, too. So after dinner we write our thanks and Naomi colors hers and we sit quiet for a minute until it's time to say them. Then around the table verbal thanks flows.

"For my family."

"The red tulips in the front yard."

"My job."

"Fresh fruits and vegetables."

"My health."

"Food to eat."

"Our tree in full spring bloom."

And I feel it. That joy rising up within me. This talk is more full, more fulfilling than our typical how was your day? Guess what my boss did? What's for dinner tomorrow? This talk was joy talk because giving thanks gives joy. And I feel it again. That feeling, deep in my bones. And I want to cry it out- "Let me learn it, Lord! Let me learn it now!" I don't want to grumble and complain and pity and worry. I want to give thanks. Receive joy. Live alive. And full.

I am trying.

And I see them there. Little pieces of thanks in a vase looking out. And me looking in on our thanks. Wondering how many papers I can fill tomorrow.