The Wonderment of It All

Whew! It’s been a rather busy two months since my last post. My grandfather passed away, both girls had croup, we switched daycare providers (love, love, love our new gal), kicked of the holidays with two Thanksgivings, did most of our shopping on-line (almost done!), celebrated the December birthdays on Matt’s side, did Christmas cards, and began planning Christmas.

Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year. Growing up, we were never home – we hit the road for Kansas and Nebraska to visit our family. It was our tradition. I could hardly contain my excitement about getting to see my cousins and be around our extended family. There was never a lack of laughter, card games, yummy snacks, and delicious food. And on my dad’s side, everyone looked forward to Grandma’s famous homemade chicken noodle soup. Yumm!! Traditions are so comforting.
 
Now that I have my own little family, I’m eager to create our own traditions. I have so many visions of what they will “look” like. Of all the things I am eager to pass on to my girls; one of the most precious things is “wonder”. I want them to have a sense of wonderment with the season. Sure, we plan and hope to instill in our kids the importance of serving others, the true meaning of Christmas, and holding on to the Christmas spirit throughout the year instead of just between Thanksgiving and New Years Day.

My parents, like so many parents, kept the tradition of Santa Claus visiting our home each Christmas Eve. Oh, man, did I get excited! I promise you that I heard sleigh bells every Christmas Eve night long after I was supposed to be asleep. I was so full of anticipation that I could hardly contain it! Little did I know that there was a whole group of people out there that didn’t even talk about Santa Claus or introduce their kids to him. I will admit that when it dawned on me that there wasn’t really a man in a red suit that flew around the world each Christmas Eve, I was pretty sad.
Shortly after I realized this, I saw the movie, “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus”. That movie made the blow about Santa so much better for me. I still feel misty-eyed when I think about it. Do you know about this movie? It’s based on a real letter to the editor that a little girl, named Virginia, wrote in 1897. She was struggling with whether or not to believe in the jolly old elf. Here is the letter and response:

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Dear Editor,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say that there is no Santa Claus. Papa says "If you see it in the Sun, it is so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia,
Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds.
All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to our life its highest beauty and joy.
Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus? You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your Papa to hire men to watch all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove?
Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus.  The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.
Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders that are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, or even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernatural beauty and glory beyond.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else as real and abiding.
No Santa Claus? Thank God he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, maybe 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the hearts of children.
~ Written by Francis P. Church - September 21, 1897 - The (New York) Sun 

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I know the guy in the red suit is not real. I know it. We all know it. This little letter represents so much more than saying to a girl that that man is real – and I believe that in her 8 year old mind, she knew the answer deep down. She was really asking if there was really goodness in the world – something that her very poor family had to struggle to feel.

To me, Santa isn’t about lying to my girls, or a guy in a sleigh flying around the world giving presents to each child. He is a tradition of honoring the real life man, Saint Nicholas, who indeed did good works and helped people (and kids!) see the goodness in the world, leading them closer to God. Sure his image and memory have been skewed beyond where it should be. But as a parent, I’m going to help my kids focus on the mystery and wonderment of the season each year (and hopefully the whole year through). I am confident that they will be able to understand that, and I hope that “Santa Claus” is a gateway for that childlike faith to blossom into something much, much greater.

(I post this not to throw any more fuel to the Santa/No Santa argument, but rather because I love this letter, the movie, and I feel it’s a sweet way to let a little girl know the truth about “Santa”.)

Merry Christmas and Peace!

~M

 

 

 

 

Grandpa

Today my sister and I travel to Kansas to celebrate the life of our grandpa. Grandpa Claude, or dad's dad, passed away Thursday at the age of 87. He has four children, ten grandchildren, and fourteen great-grandchildren. 
We were very lucky to get to see him last week one last time. He was a great man: one that had respect in his community, and one that had a strong faith in God and raised his family knowing God; the value of good, hard work; and how to play cards. 

I don't think I have a memory of my grandfather where cards were not played during a visit or holiday. Card games were a must in the Finson House, especially when guests or family visited. I can still imagine hearing his boisterous laughter peeling out over a hand dealt or a play played that he thought he'd "gotten someone good" or was just being plain old ornery. Goodness, that laugh was contagious. Sometimes he'd get mad at cards, or the way someone played, but I don't have many memories of that. I remember the glint in his eye when he'd sit around the dining room table, dealing out the cards. I'd loved to have seen him in his youth. I am sure he was a rascal at times! 

Oh, and football. How could one forget about football?! Nine our of ten times that my grandpa and dad watched football together, I thought they were going to pound the arm rests of their chairs clear through the floor! They loved to shout at the players and refs. You know, there was always a few stupid plays or rotten calls. As mad as they'd get at the game, they loved it so much. Some people just never understood that. My own husband is an avid sports fan. Maybe growing up in a family with grandpa being the kind of football fan he was prepped me for a life with a sports junkie, ha!

We didn't live close to my grandparents, so we typically saw them at the holidays and in the summer. Those are some of my fondest memories. Christmas time seems to bring to mind the most memories for me. Whether it be a hand made wooden baby doll furniture set (he made a set for the four of his granddaughters at the time, and I think toy chests for the boys one year), or his famous (to our family) made-up boxes and gift wrapping skills (tape anyone?), or proudly showing off his new chef apron for grilling - he embraced the precious moments of his life and found fun and joy in them. I love Christmas for many reasons, but I think I get nostalgic for it because of my memories spent with grandpa and the whole Finson clan. 

I'll forever hold in my heart his laugh, the glint in his eye, the love he had for my grandma and all of his family, his fist-pounding  football watching, and his card playing. But most of all, I'll be forever thankful that he loved my grandma and showed that he loved her - which was a living example for my dad and how he shows his love for my mom - which in turn was an example to me for how to love family, your spouse, and to enjoy all the moments big and small. 

Our family was lucky to have Grandpa Claude. We will miss him dearly. 

Runing on Fumes

It has been 1,089 days since I've slept through the night. That's 24,136 hours, folks. I love my sleep. L.O.V.E it. I used to thrive on nine hours of sleep each night. If I got even just seven hours of sleep, I was dragging by the end of the day. That was a necessity then, but it's a luxury now. Sleep, oh glorious sleep! It's hiding around the corner, but I just can seem to catch it.

After getting roughly 8 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, I found myself in tears this morning. There are phases of sleep deprivation and the emotions that come out of it.

According to Yours Truly:
Step 1: Annoyance. A few minutes here and there of interrupted sleep are annoying for anyone. Little breaths from a sleeping baby nearby can sound deafening in the dead of night...unless you're my husband. He's deaf to everything at night.

Step 2: Frustration. So, the few minutes here and there have turned in to an hour or so in the middle of the night. From nursing the new baby, to putting a toddler back to bed, that 5 hours that have become normal dwindle to 3.5. 

Step 3: Bewilderment. After months now of little sleep, you'd think I'd be so exhausted that nothing would keep me awake. Nope. I still hear every intake of breath from the wee one, and now her older sister has begun to insist on staying up well past 9:00. (That might not seem late to some, but for someone that works at 7:30, it's late - especially when there's laundry to finish and other home-y stuff to wrap up.) Oh, and the toddler also insists on waking up in the middle of the night to come sit/lay on/touch/whisper to Mommy.


So...some times it's cathartic to "complain" on Facebook about how hard it is being a parent on so little sleep. Friends chime in with their war stories and everyone feels a little better that they aren't going it alone in the world of toddler-hood and babyhood.

I was very lovingly reminded in the comments of today's Facebook complaint by a friend of my mom's, what is truly important. I hope she doesn't mind, but here is what she had to say: 

 

"but ask yourself......would I rather have life without them? and you will answer never never never and so you push on even in your tiredness....the Bible says, "This to shall pass," and so will this glorious childhood and all too soon they will be away from home and you will wish you heard from them more often......cherish even those tired moments you have with them as they are a gift you have been given that many women wish for but never receive.....May you all have peace and calm and a bit of rest in your day to fortify you for the nights ahead. Love to you all, mothers of babies and young ones everywhere!"

 

So, in my sleep deprived and emotional state, tears poured down my cheeks. I instantly did a mental rewind of those sleepy emotions and changed them.

Instead of annoyance, it became a blessing - how amazingly sweet it is that I have not one gift, but two gifts here with me to remind me of how precious life is, and how much I love love love those little lives. I don't ever want to forget the way a baby breathing those soft breaths sounds.

Frustration and bewilderment turned obviously into joy that I still get to have special bonding time with my baby, fully knowing that in a ridiculously short time she will be calling herself a big girl and won't want to cuddle with me. Although, I still loved to cuddle with my mom for years and years, so I have hope that it will last :) oh, and the fact that my toddler insists on getting out of bed to come visit me - I guess she just loves me to the moon and back, and wants to be near that love source all.the.time.

Running on fumes right now, for me, means that I have extra time to soak up my little girlies' lives, breaths, giggles, whispers, snuggles, girlie-ness. Maybe, just maybe, if I let them know now that I'm hear for them no matter what, then when they are tweens and teenagers, trying to navigate through this nutso world - they will still want to talk to me, lean on me, whisper to me their joys, fears, hopes, sorrows. I had that in my parents. I hope to be the same rock for my children.

 

I guess I can handle running on fumes for a little while longer.

 

 

 

 

Some things are easier said than done

There has been an increase in visible homelessness in Lincoln. I don't know why, but it's here. I work down town and I work at 7:30 am, so maybe that's why I see it. This morning as I was walking to my building, I noticed a boy? girl? man? woman? sleeping on a bench near the door I usually enter. My first reaction was to shift paths and go to a different door. As I entered the building I passed a maintenance man that I work with frequently and mentioned to him that there was a homeless person on the bench. He said he'd tell security.
By the time I reached my office, my heart was so heavy. Why did I change paths? Why did I "report" that person? Off all the people on earth, the homeless are one group of people that Jesus would have spared no thought about helping.

Since I get to work so early, I typically make oatmeal for breakfast once I'm in the office. As I was getting ready to make it, a very strong yet gentle voice popped in my head, "Give him your food". Immediately I rushed in making the oatmeal and prayed to God that he/she was still on that bench. As I walked outside with my piping hot oatmeal and a water bottle, my heart pounded. He/she was still there. What should I do? I'd never approached anyone sleeping on a bench before. I said, "Excuse me" a few times with no response. I *think* I heard a very faint mumble, but wasn't sure among all the morning traffic. I touched his/her back but got no reaction. I said that I had oatmeal and water and would leave it on the bench.
I don't know if the food was eaten at all.

My heart still feels sad, because my first reaction was to avoid and run away. I don't want to teach my daughters that. I want them to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, and take heed in the message our new Pope is proclaiming and demonstrating.
I just wanted to share - I by no means feel that I am amazing or wonderful for giving away my breakfast. I feel heavy-hearted, but very blessed that the message (I believe it was a message!) spoke to me so clearly and that I listened.

I found the one my heart loves

Have you ever read Song of Songs from the Bible? It's pretty steamy! I'm sure you're thinking "The Bible is "steamy"?!" You bet it is. Here are the first verses from the book:

 

1 Solomon’s Song of Songs.
She² Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—
    for your love is more delightful than wine.
³ Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes;
    your name is like perfume poured out.
    No wonder the young women love you!
⁴ Take me away with you—let us hurry!
    Let the king bring me into his chambers.

 

So the verses continue on, with two people and their friends interchanging dialogue about how wonderful their love is. Every one is gushing and waning poetically about the lovely loveliness. The loving abounds!


There is a section of verses where the young woman recalls how she searched and searched for the one her heart loves:

 

3 All night long on my bed
    I looked for the one my heart loves;
    I looked for him but did not find him.² I will get up now and go about the city,
    through its streets and squares;
I will search for the one my heart loves.
    So I looked for him but did not find him.
³ The watchmen found me
    as they made their rounds in the city.
    “Have you seen the one my heart loves?”
⁴ Scarcely had I passed them
    when I found the one my heart loves.
I held him and would not let him go
    till I had brought him to my mother’s house,
    to the room of the one who conceived me.
⁵ Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you
    by the gazelles and by the does of the field:
Do not arouse or awaken love
    until it so desires.



 

A favorite verse of mine from the whole book is this: My love is mine and I am his. He pastures his flock among the lilies. (2:16)



I of course love this book - it's far different from the other books found in the Bible, and it is multi-layered. On the surface, the words speak to me directly. I felt that I too had been searching and searching for the one I loved. I followed this path and that path, wandering through this world, never feeling that spark. I had nearly given up and was set on living the single life. As sad as I was about it, I couldn't see another way.

I always thought that the verses in Song of Solomon were over the top and extremely beautiful, but not really realistic. Then one day, I found the one my heart loves. I was twitterpated! Finally -  the one that was designed for me...the one I was designed for, entered into my life. He is my best friend, and the one person in this world that I can share my hopes, desires, dark fears, pains, anger, joy...he sees me for what I am. I have no need to hide. He sees my flaws, and sees my beauty. And he still loves me!! My heart finally learned to sing when I met him.

Today we celebrate our third year of marriage. I feel as if I've known my love my whole life, yet I find myself wanting to know him more. I am beyond pleased, and I truly look forward to the future with him. We have three children, two with us and one in Heaven. I couldn't imagine a better friend, spouse, lover, father of my children, to go through life together.

Although it falls short of what I'd really like to say, I want to thank you, Matt, for loving me and crossing my path. I have finally found the one my heart loves.

Trying to catch my breath...

*Gasp!*

I lost my breath.

I don’t remember what I was doing, but I saw an old picture of Gabi a couple months ago and it took my breath away. In one second, I was grappling with seeing my beautiful child & feeling those gooshy, mommy emotions, and being so sad at how fast the days, weeks, months have seemed to fly by. There she was, sitting on the floor with her Pooh Bear looking bleary-eyed up at the camera. Sweet innocence! I wanted so desperately to reach through the picture and snuggle again with that little girl. Ivy was a month old when I saw this picture of Gabi and maybe there was a bit of post-birth emotions at play, but I felt that Time had hit me and I couldn’t help feeling that Time was slipping through my hands.

 

Gabi after waking up, staring up at the camera

 

The next few weeks, I continued to be extra weepy when I mused over the last two years since Gabi (and now Ivy) have been in our lives. I still get weepy when I’ve gone through a few nights of little or no sleep (thanks to having a new born) but overall, I couldn’t be happier to have had the time of my life with this little girlie. She is full of life – from the way she colors on the sidewalk with chalk (maybe she’s the next Van Gogh!) to the way she loves running around in a circle over and over and over and over again, cracking herself up as if she’s just heard the greatest joke ever told in the history of the universe. Her smile can crack open even the most calloused heart. I want to learn from her on how to love life’s tiniest details, how to get excited over little events, how to sing, giggle, hug, play, show empathy for others.

But most of all, I want to soak up these moments, days, weeks, months - pour them in a bottle and keep them with me forever.

 

One of my favorite smiles

 

June 9, 2011

 

Summer 2012 - a little over a year old

 

Gabi's first Easter - 2012

 

 

Showing off her impeccable fashion sense

 

My girl - looking like a big kid

 

Jumping In

Hey all! I've been thinking about having a blog for a while now, so I thought it's time to throw my hat into the ring. I am a self-described neat freak and cleaning nut. I always knew I'd be a mom someday - as a mom I've grown to love baby wearing, have made my own hybrid version of attachment parenting, and try my best to practice gentle parenting. That's the short version. Here's the long of it:

I'm 32 years old. What?! Where did time go? I don't feel like a 32 year old. It seems like just yesterday I was getting ready to graduate college! I started college with a major in Vocal Music Education. My junior year, I decided to switch to Fashion Merchandising and ended up in retail management for several years. I quickly burned out in retail so I thought I just had to go to grad school for Historic Costuming - I landed at the University of Nebraska. I met my husband shortly after moving to Nebraska; we got engaged after knowing each other for 5 months and were married 9 months later. We found out we were expecting our first child shortly after we were married. Whew!

I've been married to my best friend and husband, Matt, for nearly three years. We have two girls - Gabi (2) and Ivy (12 weeks), and one angel baby. I am in awe daily at how much my heart has grown to love these little ladies so very much. Gabi is extremely energetic and makes me laugh nearly every day with he antics. Her favorite activity these days is running around in a circle, bobbing her head and doing some sort of "trotting" action with her feet and legs, all the while laughing and giggling. Ivy likes blowing raspberries and making funny noises. She's also started to smile, which is often the highlight of my day. (If you haven't seen a little baby smile at you, I highly recommend it!) 

 

Wedding Day 09/04/10

 

I have posted a ridiculous number of photos and status updates about Gabi on Facebook. She just turned 2 but she is so smart (I know, I know - every parent things that about their kids) I have to remind myself that she is just 2 and not older. Plus, she's super tall for her age, so she looks older. She's bull-headed but has the funniest sense of humor I've seen in a kiddo her age. She is full of love and loves being a big sister. My world changed the second I met her and I love watching her grow.

 

Gabi at the pool

 

Sweet Ivy has only been with us a short while, but she's captured our hearts in a big way. She's pretty laid back, only crying when she's hungry. With two little kids I haven't devoted nearly the time to taking photos of this girlie like I did with Gabi. I suppose that's pretty typical with the second child!

  

Ivy at 2 months

 

 

Well, there you have it! This is me jumping in.