:: He’s moving quickly these days, although he has yet to do anything more than scoot along on his belly. It’s so much fun to watch him dart for something, change his mind, spin around on his belly — only to change his mind again and head back in the original direction. And he jabbers the whole time.
:: Today we ran errands. He didn’t cry once the entire time. Even when he was riding for 15-20 minutes in his carseat. This is a milestone!
:: He’s been told more than several times not to touch the stack of magazines and books I have tucked under a table. Yesterday he headed towards the pile once again, paused as he reached out his little hand, checked to see if I was watching (I was), paused again, and then turned away. I was OVERJOYED! My own dear baby chose obedience! How amazing to watch him develop and grow right before my eyes, from a brand new baby into a thinking, communicating, enthusiastic little man!
[Those were all new thoughts for today. Now we segue into part two of my post last Saturday:]
:: This is the other book Ryan bought me for my birthday. I finally cracked it open and have been enjoying it at a rapid pace. (Rapid is a relative term. Back in the pre-Jamesonian era, rapid meant 1-2 hours while folding laundry.) Her entire premise is that we are created in God’s image, and one thing we can know without digging too deep is that we must, therefore, be made to create. (Get it? Created in His image?…) She then points to the things we often take for granted and urges us to see them for what they are: the mark of a great artist. I’ve always loved the whispering of leaves as wind dances through them, but I’ll never be able to listen and watch again without thinking of how composers and choreographers for centuries have been doing their best to mimic nature’s model.
Yes, God is revealing Himself all around us. Recently I read a soldier’s account of his time in Iraq. Having been raised with a concept of God’s existence, he found that challenged in the horror of war. “Where is God?”, he wrote in his journal.
I thought of this article while reading Edith’s book. Yes, where is the mark of the gracious Creator in the midst of atrocities?
The mark is in us, I realized. It’s in the surge of compassion that rose in that soldier’s heart, in the sense of injustice he felt as he protected the helpless. Why do we feel injustice so acutely? Because we are made in His image, the image of the Great Judge.
Even in war, He is revealing Himself.
:: What I don’t understand, given all of the above, is what foreign policy should look like. I don’t like the idea of being the world-wide police force… but then again, I don’t particularly like the idea of turning a blind eye when we have the ability to act for the helpless. What does a Judeo-Christian government look like? I suppose those are the questions we’re all asking as we look forward to another round of elections.
:: I’m getting more excited about moving. Finding pictures of the area that will be my new home, exploring google maps, looking up gardening info on California — it will be a fun place to live. Simultaneously, I’m getting more sad about leaving. I guess it’s just all sinking in. Every evening, I turn off the lights and lock the door and sigh a little. I love this little place. But it’s much more than that. I love this season of life. This will be the season I look back on when I want to recall the highs and lows of newlywed life, my first holidays under my own roof, the experiences of being newly pregnant, and the amazing days of falling in love with my first baby. All of those memories live right here, in our little tree house apartment.
:: And now, what you’ve all been waiting for: the other stuff I’ve been cooking in Ryan’s absence. This is not about to turn into a food blog, since I don’t know what I’m doing, really, in the kitchen. I love to make stuff up, but I never know why I feel like I should cut it this way, cook it that long, mix in that spice. I guess my mom passed along her “hunch” gene to me, and so I find my way around the kitchen in the same manner in which she does: total guesswork.
So, I made this pasta salad a couple of weeks ago, with the addition of garlic. (Umm, hi. How could you not have garlic??) It was good, will need some tweaking (more salt and pepper, namely, so that my poor little nephew doesn’t complain that his salad has no dressing), and inspired my ABSOLUTELY FAVORITE DISH EVER. My mom and I happily munched on it together, which is one of my favorite ways to consume a meal:
1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and cut into 2″ pieces
1 lb pasta (I used whole wheat linguini)
3 cloves garlic, chopped
3 T butter
4 slices fresh lemon
1/4 c. grated asiago cheese
salt and pepper
Saute garlic in butter. Add lemon slices, salt and pepper, and cook until your hunch tells you to stop. (See what I mean?) Remove lemon slices and seeds. In the meantime, boil water and cook pasta according to preference. One minute before it’s done, add asparagus. Drain pasta and asparagus. Rinse. Toss with butter sauce and asiago cheese.
:: Lastly, I was challenged by this post. I need to remember the discipline of quiet, and carve out moments for sacred silence. Of course, such talk conjures up memories not unlike the ones Nancy relays: large, inspiring spaces; heavy, silent air; the presence of a magnificent instrument inspiring inner symphonies of praise. Yes, (sigh), I remember. But I’d be delusional to think that revisiting the discipline of silence should look like that in this season of life. No, I find that rather than enforcing an hour of quiet in my daily schedule, I must discipline my mind and my heart to be still once in awhile. I must remind myself to stop. the ideas and stop. the to-dos and stop. the worries and stop. the creative juices. Just. stop. In the midst of cleaning, nursing, cooking, laundering, harness my mind and soul and be still.
That’s what I want to do.