A Weekend in Wichita

Two weekends ago while the daddies had to work, the mommies got to play. Thank you dears! We missed you, but had a truly delightful time. We met my best friend in Wichita. It was four kids, one hotel room, a whole lot of socks, immeasurable peanut butter, and a lot of great adventures. Wichita is really great, I am always surprised by just how much there is to do there. It has big city feel and small town charm.

We started out on day one at the zoo. We were told it was spring break but it was blissfully quiet and we probably passed less than 100 people the whole day. It was moderately cold, so I guess that helped. Here the littlest "whos" chased ducks, kissed goats, and looked for peacocks. Connor was bold enough, and cute enough, that when he asked if he could help the zookeeper feed the the barn animals he willingly said yes. It was pretty funny watching him try to throw alfalfa chunks that were nearly as tall as he was. There was lots of rock climbing, lion watching, Masi imitating. One particularly obtuse goose frolicked in the grass in the lion's cage and we were hopeful that the lioness would have five minutes of wildness coupled with delicious dinner, but, alas, her partner was too uninterested and her instincts too domesticated.

 

There were nights of star lights on the ceiling (which apparently is the most revolutionary toy ever if you didn't know) and mornings of little girls in snuggly jammies and pig tails. There was bed bouncing, naps (thank heavens!) and new Dr. Seuss.  There was hand holding and lots of laughing.

We loved driving down Douglas street and looking at all the charming statues. The day it was raining, some funny person had adorned the barefoot man statue reading a newspaper with some rain boots; which amusingly later disappeared. Exploration place gets our whole hearted endorsement as one fantastic kids museum. Here the girls saw mascots for the first time and Cali was both enthralled and completely apprehensive. She chased Scooby all over the museum, but wasn't quite sure if she should shake his hand; all the kids had fun playing tag and hide and seek with him.

At this museum there is a rather elaborate vertical medieval castle maze. It had been updated since the last time that we were there and there was now a catapult. Cris was the king and a random kid adorably told us he was Lancelot. Here they made potions, rode horses, started a garden, and practiced their welding. What great fun!

Finally we kept up our tradition of eating crepes together at a tiny warm place called Lotus Leaf Creperie. We were wrangling our children most of the meal, which made me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for the couple next to us who appeared to be on a first date, but I got over it.

On our last day, we were astonished when 1-3 inches of predicted snow turned out to be closer to 6! One final fun snow before spring decides to stick around. Pretty to look at, a little harder to play in since we had forgotten our snow boots and mittens (boo!) and Connor was crying from cold feet. A few lessons in broadening our horizons with some unusual people, and a day that went completely differently than planned, especially because nothing is open in Wichita before noon, but an enlightening and beautiful day none-the-less.

It was a weekend when we got to unplug and fully answer the sweet call of "mommy play with me" and we can't wait to do it again!

8. Noise

Cristopher playing trumpet at age two.

(Noun). A sound that causes disturbance.
(Noun).  Anything superflurous that reduces clarity of communication.

[Written in early December] In those few brief moments when I hear kids awaken, usually by a brother waking the other one, before my eyes must open and my feet must hit the floor, there are usually quite a few sounds at my house. Some are welcome: the sounds of brothers giggling their secrets together, a sweet baby saying Da, a heater in a toasty house; but others are just noisy incessant interruptions. As I linger, hugging the husband, the baby has found the dancing chicken, (actually called "Choke the Chicken") and it brock-brock-brocks with outrageous abandon. Yet another overly stimulating toy gifted to us. Shut up already.

The microwave starts to ding incessantly. Are you ready to eat yet? Now? How 'bout now? The dishwasher buzzes and the washing machine drum pounds. Somebody's phone starts chiming the alarm that we didn't make it to followed by the pings of incoming status updates. Messages from yesterday's answering machine stream in. Then the commercials start in. Mom, we really must go to Stuffmart. There are 7 new shows that I am going to die if I do not see. I must watch the commercials because they are cool. Can I pl-uh-ease have those shoes that flop like monster mouths? 

Somebody's robot has a broken leg and is stuck in spin cycle; a last ditch dance before the landfill. A firetruck toy, rivaling decibels of real trucks shrieks under my feet.  Dolls that flatter themselves, toys that play themselves, games that illuminate the correct answers that we don't allow kids to figure out themselves, jingles of the same four words off key and ad naseum...Enough! (This is why I felt like I had to simplify Christmas. To see how check out this post on my other blog).

And so it goes. All day long.                 
My head hurts, and I contemplate (briefly) whether vodka and aspirin might make an appropriate post holiday breakfast drink.  

How did we get here? Where is our focus? How can we cultivate reverence (during and after the holidays)?

Do you find it harder or easier to cultivate stillness and reverence before or after the holiday season?

7. Reflect: A poem for Friday

1. (transient verb) To give back or mirror. 2. (Intransient verb) To give something back as light. 3(Intransient verb). Carefully considered thoughts.

Even though it was not personal to me, the Connecticut shootings last Friday was something I will continue thinking about for a long time. On the day of the shootings my family went to hear my husband perform in the Nutcracker. The artistic director gave a very tactful address towards the tragedy and reminded of the importance of art and beauty. Coincidentally (I think?) several times in the blocking of the first scene there were exactly 27 people on stage. Then all left the stage, going to bed, and all that was left was darkness and a giant twinkling Christmas tree. For me it was a reminder of lives lost. With deepest sympathy, here is my reflection in poem and photo essay from the day.

A Poem for Friday

Often, in December, the wind is piercing cold;

leaves linger and fall,

and even the mocking bird sits-too chilled to move,

and dead butterflies (still brilliant)

collect on the ground.

The ends of our eyes stick together

and sound is drowned.
A void

is blowing us down.

Light shines through

the holes.

Angels, lay unnoticed,

just beyond view.

We close our eyes

(Praying: mercy; raindrops), 

and hold hands.

Move forward

together.

The seed pod is waiting. 

To spread exuberance,

and, miraculously,

flowers still bloom

in December. 

I hold the Thanksgiving wishbone

in my hand 

and wonder:

What comes next year?

A snowflake touches the ground 

with it's toe.

We embrace 

a dream,

the morning.

The laughter of children

echoes

in the air.

----------------------------

Twenty eight people were killed on December 14th by guns. Disgusting. There are countless responsible gun owners in this country, but that does not discount the facts that additionally "every year there are 30,000 gun deaths in the United States and 300,000 gun related assalts."  I firmly believe that we are long overdue for some much different gun regulations in this country. And while I don't know all of the answers to this complex problem, I feel that more stringent gun regulations (not elimination) will be an important step in prevention. Period.

I've been asking what I can do as an individual. I had already been in progress of beginning to sell photo cards on Etsy and through the Oklahoma Food Coop and have decided that some of this collection of images will be amongst my first set to sell and that 15% of my proceeds will go towards organizations that help prevent gun violence and organizations that promote juvenille access to mental health. I am aiming to have these for sale by the end of this week. (Also I'm taking suggestions on organizations to donate to meeting either of these criteria as I am still researching that).

6. Choir

1. (Noun). An ensemble that makes music together.
2. (Noun). A division of angels

See that red angel right in the middle? Her drum was broken so the boys informed me that they had given her a new role as conductor of the orchestra. I love her. In her brokenness, in her newly assigned purpose. I love that she is still helping others make music even though she no longer has a song. She is creating from her silence. This sweet little vingette reminds me of what it's like for all of us to be a part of the choir.

The kids have a song they learned that goes "each of God's children has a role in God's choir, some sing low and some sing high-er." We are here in all of our imperfections trying collectively to make some joyful noise. And somehow through that act of opening our mouths, of being present we are elevated to the level of angels.

5. Ridden

1. Noun. (To be burdened and overwhelmed with. 
2. Verb. (To sit on and control).

(Yes, I know, he is riding a rhinocerous, but in my world anything is possible. If the nativity had taken place in Africa or Oklahoma, I am certain this would have been the animal of choice).

Thinking lots about Mary and what must have been a rather rough journey on the donkey and all the things that must have been weighing on her mind.  Thinking about whether it would have been unexpected or ordinary for an overly pregnant woman in Palestine to travel long distances by donkey. I can't help but think of her loneliness and that she was probably all alone having an unassisted birth in a smelly place.

For most of us our journeys also are going to have lots of bumps along the way, but sometimes we will have our greatest victories in our most humble situations.  And when we look for them we will have unanticipated metaphorical vehicles to carry us safely from place A to place B.

It appears that Mary is the one to immulate in this story, bearing light and joy to the world ridding things out on top, having faith that someone else knows the path and confidence despite the unknown. But sometimes I think we actually allow ourselves to become the beast: carrying the weight of so many things that weigh us (collectively) down: sorrow, debt, illness, worry, uncertainty, passed opportunities. At first this seems troubling, but I think God also calls us to be co-bearers of the pain of the world, to submit like animals as he instructs in Matthew 11:29-30 "take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." 

This season, may you find the vehicles to carry you across whatever you are facing and both bear and share the yoke of love in all it's joys and sorrows.