Mairsy Dotes

"No faith is as solid as a wounded faith."

Sweet Adorable Victory! June 30, 2005

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 8:40 pm


So, the good folks at Blogspot have heard my silent pleas and figured out an easy way for me to upload pictures to my blog. I’m not really technologically savvy, so I was confused by many of the ways people told me to do it. Heck, I can’t even figure out a blogroll.

But this is simple. And now, here for your appreicative ooohs and aaahhs is the fruit of my looms, Linnea. This picture was taken about two months ago, so she doesn’t look exactly like this anymore, but it’s pretty close and it’s one of my favorites. As soon as I find out where the little minx hid my photo CD from vacation, I’ll upload some more recent ones.

 

This is one of the many reasons being Linnea’s mom rocks my world

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 4:11 pm

She’s CRANKY today. Teething. Again, or still–I’m not really sure which. All I know is that between teething and ear infections we’ve gone through BOTTLES of children’s Motrin. We should have bought stock.

She won’t eat, but we knew she was hungry, so we got out some strawberry go-gurt. She sucked that tube dry in about 45 seconds. So I offered her a blueberry one. She wasn’t that interested in sucking it out of the tube, so I squeezed it into her Elmo bowl. Screaming, she proceeded to wipe it all over her body, and into her hair. By the time she was done she was covered with a fine coating of Smurftastic blue yogurt. If her face hadn’t been red from screaming, she would have looked like a wee Smurfette.

So it was up to the bathtub for Fussy McCrankypants and her mama. Baths always calm her down. I love it. It’s like the A-Bomb in my Mommy Arsenal–I only use it when all other attempts at calming her down have failed. Once again, it worked like a charm. She stood up to reach for something and was distracted by her bellybutton. This happens. She’s fascinated with body parts, particularly her own.

So, she pushed it. And at the same time let loose a couple of toots–real cheek flappers. And as all toots released in the sanctuary of the bathroom: they were loud. Her eyes got big and she looked at me and then smiled in delight. I could just see her little neurons firing, making the connection that pushing her bellybutton makes her toot.

I thought, “Oh, that’s so funny!” And then she did it AGAIN. And AGAIN. So now I’m thinking there might be something to this Flatulence Release Button and cautiously see if mine works the same way. It doesn’t. And Linnea’s has stopped working (much to her bellybutton pushing frustration).

But for those few moments, for that precious beaming look of successful discovery, and for some pretty funny toots in the bathroom: I love being Linnea’s mom.

 

Let Us Pray

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 1:53 pm

Or light candles or shimmy nekkid under the light of the full moon or do tequila shots or WHATEVER it is that you do to send someone good joux-joux.

I just contacted a church that is looking for an associate pastor who is a strong preacher (hello? Am I not PreacherBeege?!), with a scholarly approach to scripture and is devoted to the Lutheran Confessions. With the exception of something about “working with youth” this position could be tailor-made for me. And even the “working with youth” part might not be so bad, depending upon what they mean by that. Is it teaching Confirmation? Sweet! I’m all over that. Is it taking the junior high youth group on canoe trips to connect with God in nature? Not so much.

So: I’m sort of going outside the established pattern of getting churches. Pastors are NEVER supposed to contact the congregation. They contact the Bishop, and IF the bishops agrees that the pastor might be a good match, the BISHOP contacts the church and lets them know the pastor is interested. Bishops take a lot of energy impressing upon pastors the fact that if the PASTOR contacts the CONGREGATION, it will frighten the congregation (Dude, I kid you not, that is totally what a bishop told me) because they only want to hear from the bishop about possible candidates. Nevermind the fact that most congregations I’VE been in contact with are desperate to hear from pastors because bishops aren’t passing any names to them. Snort. Great system. But my problem is politics. Early on in our careers, M and I did something that was a little bit risque in the eyes of certain people in church leadership. Not all church leadership. We didn’t break any laws (of God or Man). Everything we did was well in-line with the church guidelines, but what we did wasn’t what the church WANTED us to do. And so we got black marks beside our names. M especially. Basically, what the upshot of all that is that there are a lot of bishops that aren’t necessarily interested in giving us churches because we don’t believe that the bishops are the be all and end all of the church. We sort of actually believe that the people who sit in the pews on Sunday, and their wants and needs are more important than the wants and needs of any bishop. Oooo. So subversive. But anyway: because of that, when my name crosses their desk, they immediately send my file to the file cabinet equivalent of Siberia.

So, I’ve taken matters into my own hands. I’d really appreciate any prayers or whatever that this works out–that I at least get a call back from someone saying, “Gee, we’ve filled that position.” or “No way in hell we’d call you for our pastor, you freaking troublemaker!” If I could just get someone to TALK to me, rather than send me rejection letters, it would make all the difference in the world. I AM sort of taking a bit of a risk in contacting them, rather than the bishop. But what’s life worth if you can’t take risks? And what will the consequences be? The bishops won’t give me a church? ‘Cuz that’s where I am right now. So, the way I see it: I’ve got nothing to lose. But for all this brave talk: I’m still a bit chicken about it all…so I’ll be commencing with the tequila shots shortly. 😉

 

The reality of being 30.

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 9:13 am

Dude.

I found my first wrinkles.

They’re only there when I smile (thank God they’re smile wrinkles, and not middle of the eyebrows frowny ones!), but the creases next to my eyes when I smile have gotten markedly deeper and longer. *sigh* I’ve always tried to take care of my skin. I’ve got good skin. Actually, ever since getting knocked up, I’ve had FABULOUS skin. I keep waiting for it to go away, but it seems to be here to stay. My mother doesn’t look anywhere near her mid-50’s, and she and I are so much alike that I was sort of expecting that first crushing wrinkle-blow to be a few years off.

But they’re here. Two long smile lines, that look like cracks in porcelain. The wrinkles of Beege.

I’m also not as spry as I used to be. While flying back home, our plane was delayed and we got into Denver 10 minutes before our plane was supposed to depart Denver for Kansas City. We landed at like gate 54, and needed to get to gate 28. So M has all three of our carry-ons. I have Linnea, Monkey, Blankie, and a sippy cup. We are running like the wind. Well. For about the first 10 yards. Then, while Linnea is laughing and cheering in my arms, patting me on the shoulders and shouting, “Go! Go!” I start feeling my lungs burn, and my calves start to protest and I start to think, “I’m not going to make it.” M is way ahead of us, and I think, “He’ll tell them we’re coming. I can slow down.”

I read somewhere that Johnny Depp read somewhere that everyone should be able to run with their children for a half hour, so that if they need to get away or escape or if they’re in danger: they can run with their children for more than 1/10th of a football field. It made a lot of sense at the time. It still makes a lot of sense. But sense doesn’t get me out there, practicing running for 30 minutes with Linnea. My deeply-hidden inner-nerd always rises up and whines, “But I’ve got shinsplints” whenever my even more deeply-hidden inner-fitness freak says, “You know what would feel good? A run!”

I told my mother about it, and bless her heart she said, “It’s the altitude. You’re up so high, it’s really hard to even walk fast without getting winded.” Such a sweet mama I have. But it wasn’t ALL altitude. It wasn’t even all being 30.

I’m thinking about hiring a personal trainer if I have a job when we move.

 

Death Comes June 25, 2005

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 9:32 pm

I’m not back from vacation yet, but I just have to blog.

Mary died. It wasn’t unexpected. Death, when expected, can be easier. At least for me, looking at death in an almost clinical, professional capacity.

However, on Monday, I got an absolutely heartbreaking phone call. We were on our way to the beach when my cell rang. I supposed it to be a call from Mary’s family, but it wasn’t. It was news that a little boy from my most beloved congregation had been killed. His mother accidentally backed over him in a truck. He was only about 10 weeks younger than Linnea, and just the sweetest little boy! He looked just like his daddy, with a wide mouth and a smile that took up most of his face. His two older brothers and older sister adored him, and would carry him proudly around the church, proudly take care of him during services, and did everything that amazing big brothers and sisters should do.

God. The grief was (and is) so intense. And I felt so freaking impotent, a thousand miles away from the people that needed me to be there. And I felt both incredibly guilty that I still have Linnea, and incredibly thankful that I still have her. I start thinking that life has guarantees, you know? That babies will grow up and learn to drive and go to prom and get married and have babies themselves. But there’re no guarantees. I talked to Dawson’s mom on the phone–if you could call it talking. It was more sobbing together than anything else. His funeral was on Thursday…all of the “official” doings of death will be done and overwith long before I’m able to get to his family, to be with them.

There are times when I really hate my job. Like right now. Like knowing I’m going to have to walk into a house that until just five days ago was full of toddler mischief and laughter and learning, and that now: isn’t. Like knowing that I’m going to have to look at a mother and father who have just suffered the most horrendous loss a parent can imagine and SEE that in their eyes. Like times when death comes just a little too close–when I can feel those cold icy fingers touching MY family, MY loved ones, MY baby. Like those times when I can’t be clinical and professional, and say, “Oh, yes, she’s doing X,Y, and Z, death is close.” Death isn’t supposed to be close to little kids. Death isn’t supposed to take them.

And deep down inside is the unbearable knowledge that if Death can take Dawson, it can take Linnea, too. Nothing I say or do will stop it. And as a parent, that makes me want to throw my head back and howl. I mean–I don’t think I could bury Linnea. I couldn’t leave her in the cold, dark earth. She doesn’t like the cold. She doesn’t like the dark. But I don’t think I could cremate her either–how could I put her little body into the fire? But at least then I could keep her close to me. I can’t imagine a scream that it big enough to contain all that pain. I could scream until my throat was bloody, and I’d still need to scream some more.

Please, please pray for Derek, Rhonda, Jordan, Payton, and Montana tonight. And maybe for all the rest of us while you’re at it. Thanks.

 

But before I go… June 17, 2005

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 6:53 am

If you would like to see Linnea’s website, respond to this thread. I’m a little leery of just putting the link on my blog, since I’ve got a large number of people who read this blog and don’t ever post, and I don’t want any shady characters getting access to my sweet baby girl. I’m paranoid that way.

But if you’d like to see the most gorgeous girl in Kansas playing with puppies or covered with pasketti sauce: let me know. I can email it to you.

 

Dude. Vivid dreams.

Filed under: Uncategorized — beege @ 6:43 am

I usually have pretty detailed, vivid dreams that I am able to remember fairly well come morning. And, dude: pregnancy was a trip! Since I had vivid dreams anyway, my pregnancy dreams always started with “presented in technicolor” scrolling across the picture.

Last night I kept having these dreams that I had to get up to pee–and in my dreams I’d get up, stumble to the bathroom, pee, wipe, go back to bed. Nothing unusual. There was no little penguin waiting to hand me the toilet paper or anything weird. It was just me, getting up, going to the bathroom. About five times.

So I was surprised when I woke up this morning to realize that I had to pee like a racehorse, when (I thought) I’d been peeing all night. When I realized it was just dreams, M decided he was lucky I didn’t wet the bed about five times last night. Excellent, excellent point.

We leave tonight for Va-CA-TIONNNNNNNN! Whoo-hoo! We’re going out to the PNW to visit my parents…ahhhhh: it will be grand. All the seafood we can stuff in our faces AND four wonderfully eager babysitters. We may or may not see Linnea after tomorrow, and the way things are going right now: I think that would be fine for all of us.

Well. Not really. Linnea is going through a heavy “I want Mamaaaaaa!” stage. I can’t leave the house without her, I can’t go to the bathroom, I can’t take a shower, I can’t send her downstairs to watch “Tiny Planets” with her father while I get dressed–any action that I take without her direct involvement is met with screams and howls of utter desolation and abandonment. I’ve tried just leaving (like if I have to go to a meeting) when she was distracted by something–not good. I’ve tried giving a detailed itinerary of my activities while I’m away from her–not good. I’ve tried covering her with smooches and promises that I’d be home soon–not good. All involves Mama leaving, and leaving Linnea behind. And how is that not a terrible thing when you’re sixteen and a half months old?!

So enjoy yourselves, chirrens. Be good. I’ll see you in a few days!