Mark’s birthday

Today is Mark’s birthday.

(Happy birthday, Mark!)

Amy and I spent a good part of the day in Culver, hanging out with Jasenka again at her garage sale. At her invitation; I might call on someone one day in depression, but I don’t push my luck, don’t foist myself on people too much, too often. In fact, I debated whether to go or not; I didn’t feel quite as deeply pitted as I did yesterday. But I remembered that garage sales might be a good place to look for a little table and chair(s) for Amy, so we went.

There weren’t any other garage sales in walking distance, and Jasenka and her cohorts didn’t have such a table and chairs, but I did pick up a few books, some toddler socks, and a toy dustpan and brush (Amy wants ours very desperately whenever it appears).

At one point we took a long walk over to Amy G’s to see if she and the new baby were home yet, but they weren’t — but we visited a few minutes with little Ryan and his grandma.

Just when we returned, there was a flash of lightening and a very loud crack of thunder, followed by a relatively brief downpour. We tried to push all the goods (already on the porch, good thing) out of the rain’s way and retreated inside for a while.

Then to the dining hall for lunch, but we’d just missed Mark, apparently, and ate by ourselves.

Home for a little play and a little nap, and Mark got home early. We all napped. It was good.

Out to dinner at Cristo’s, a little diner with the typical very long diner menu complete with some Greek dishes. Good rolls. Good soup (I had something Greek which was light, a little creamy, chicken and ricey; Mark had a potato soup; Amy tasted a lot of each). Good ribs, good patty melt, not so good fries and grilled cheese — and really, Amy doesn’t eat enough to merit ordering a kid’s meal for her yet.

Thence to Sears to pick up Mark’s birthday present — not particularly fluffy fun, but still appreciated, a 6-ton hydraulic jack and a work light with a 30-ft cord in a retracting reel.

Then grocery shopping (everything interesting on the shelf, or that mama picks up, Amy wants to “help mama!”, i.e. hold it for me), then home and a bath for Amy, complete with one poop in the tub and another on the naked-time blanket afterwards and one tiny bit in the potty.

Common Ground Christian Community

Today we worshiped at Common Ground Christian Community, our second visit. The first was several weeks ago, and then we had two snowstorms that kept us home, and then we were away for the holidays.

It is a small church — perhaps fifty people or so. It feels about the same size, maybe a bit smaller, than New Life Presbyterian, our church home in Ithaca, NY.

The building is a store front, comfortably shabby — no dazzling decorations, architecture, furnishings, etc, but no old and musty orange shag pew cushions either. No pews — just cushioned chairs arranged in rows. There is no cross. Up front there are flags of various countries hanging on the walls — I recognized Israel, Japan, and of course our own, plus there were several others. There is a smallish platform for the musicians; the drum set and the keyboard were on the platform, and the guitarist and singers (and, today, three brass players) stood in front of it. It’s all amplified, but not drowning-out loud, and not flashy or overly polished / slick. There is a small table for the communion elements. A nursery and another open room are upstairs, and there is also a small kitchen and one or two other rooms in the back.

We arrive on time and people are chatting and having coffee and donuts. Someone sees us entering and greets us right away. People also greet us during the official greeting time and after the service as well. This is nice and annoying at the same time. Sometimes I wonder if churches who emphasize making visitors feel welcome realize that some visitors want to just slip in and observe without having attention called to them. I suppose it’s tricky ground, because you can’t tell just by looking which kind of visitor is which.

The service begins with singing. The songs are all contemporary — nothing as rich and meaty as the best hymns, but nothing as simpering and meaningless and theologically questionable as the worst choruses. Some I like. Some I don’t care for. I find myself missing the music of previous churches.

The liturgy is limited; there’s the greeting time, a sermon, communion, an offering, and dismissal. Communion is not called communion or explained in any way, other than that it’s a time to celebrate Jesus, and instructions for how it’s done in this church (bread cubes and juice cups are passed, and each individual takes, eats, drinks, replaces the empty cup, and passes the elements down the row). Likewise I don’t remember any explanation of the offering. And it’s dismissal, not benediction. And a worship gathering, not a worship service, and a community, not a church.

I understand the desire to remove obstacles — church lingo and liturgy can be confusing to folks who don’t have the background. And they can remind people of bad or empty past church experience. But to me it makes so much more sense to clarify, explain, properly model these things, rather than hush them up or eliminate them.

I won’t discuss the sermon, since it was by a guest preacher and therefore not representative. The first time we were there, the pastor was finishing up a series relating biblical truth to the Lord of the Rings. It wasn’t as silly as it might sound.

Looking at the sermon notes, the brochures, the website, and reflecting on the service, I think about the Emergent movement and wonder to what extent this church considers itself part of that movement. The language is somewhat counter-culture or postmodern. The lingo is minimized. Mission and inclusion is emphasized. Perhaps doctrine is simplified.

The denomination is technically Church of Christ, but the pastor explained to us after our first visit that it’s “the non-denominational denomination.” Still, I’d like to know more about what this denomination is about and what its history is.

I have questions I want to discuss with the pastor at some point:

They practice immersion baptism, and the pastor at Grace Reformed Presbyterian in Walkerton says that Church of Christ might be one of the churches that believes baptism saves, whereas Reformed folks believe baptism is a sign, a work done after salvation is accomplished and not a work necessary to obtain or complete salvation. Will they accept our baptisms and Amy’s? Do they believe baptism is sufficient and / or necessary for salvation?

Mission and service are emphases; so are inclusion, welcoming. But to what extent is acceptance really offered? Are you only accepted as long as you are on “the right path,” making progress in faith, etc? Is there room at this church not only for seekers and “pretty” Christians, but for real Christians who struggle with real issues? Is there any emphasis on growing as Christians, not just in external focus and service and mission, but in personal depth of faith and knowledge and love? Is “community” such a banner cause at this church that individuals are lost?

I remember reading something about a discipleship process. Some kinds of programs, official structured things, make me nervous. I don’t want anything that makes discipleship a cookie-cutter event, a set of meetings and exercises that can be completed in nice linear order and then you get your disciple certificate. And I don’t want anything that solidifies discipleship into a list of concrete objectives. I want to know more about this process and what it means, how they see it, how they use it.

One of Mark’s comments this evening was how amazing it is that one can go to so many churches, even obviously believing churches, and yet hear so little of the Gospel — so much about what we need to do, so much about topics and surfacy exposition, but very little about the center of it all, the grace by which God comes after us to love us and to offer us righteousness in exchange for our sin.

Christmas Day

We woke at leisure. Had a lovely breakfast of eggs and sausage and toast and oranges.

Opened presents, just Mark and Amy and I, as our present to my parents was coming in the afternoon. Amy participated in opening most of her gifts. One gift was a top and pants, which she carried around the house for a long time, one piece in each hand. She also really liked her ride-on toy.

Amy’s morning nap was interrupted by a phone call, and she was unable to get back to sleep. She was a little cranky for the afternoon.

She got a good afternoon nap, though, and didn’t wake until quite a while after my brother and his family arrived.

There was more opening of presents, lots of semi-chaotic playing among Jeff and Carole’s little girls and our Amy, conversation among the adults, my parents, us, Jeff and Carole and Jeff’s son RJ, sister Tracy.

A wonderful dinner, without too much crankiness from the babies. And with horseradish sauce for the roast beef. Mmm… horseradish sauce.

Relaxing for some, playing for others, cookies for all but the babies, then good night to all and diapers in the wash.

A merry Christmas.

To refuse a blessing

It seems people can be criticized for having no children, having too many, or not having enough.

Remember the Aesop’s Fable where the man and his son take the donkey to town to sell it? First neither of them ride, and people criticize them for that. Then the son rides, and people criticize him for letting his father walk. Then the father rides, and people criticize him for letting his son walk. Then they both ride, and people criticize them for burdening the donkey. Then they carry the donkey, and it struggles and falls over the side of a bridge.

You can’t please everybody. You have to make your own decisions — according to your own beliefs and values and desires, and according to what you perceive God to be telling you.

The problem is, I’m terrible at making decisions.

It is difficult for me to know what I want — I have inclinations and impulses, but which is the truest, which will last, which isn’t determined by current circumstances and mood and the state of my digestion?

It is sometimes difficult for me to discern what the godly options might be — sometimes there’s only one, but more often he seems to give us a lot of choices.

Last year, when I was in labor, we joked about who was going to get the surgery (i.e. tubal ligation or vasectomy) so that I’d never have to go through that again. The question became more serious when I developed a rather severe case of PPD. But we said we should wait a year before deciding to do anything so drastic.

It’s been a year.

We still don’t particularly yearn for more children, but we’re still not quite ready to close that door completely.

Some mommy bloggers make it seem like not having all the children you can is to refuse blessings. Or that only people who don’t love the child(ren) they already have would decide not to have any more.

I don’t think that’s fair.

It’s like some blogger I came across who had a “Jesus was breastfed” button displayed in her sidebar. Um, while scientifically it’s true that breastmilk is best for babies, it’s truly not always possible for people to nurse, and formula didn’t even exist in Jesus’ day, and it’s certainly come a long way since it was first invented.

Why don’t I long to have more children?

I don’t want to risk PPD again, which takes a huge toll on our entire network. It’s possible I wouldn’t get it again, but it’s likely I would. Especially since so much of the initial trigger was the desperation of sleep deprivation, which I know for sure would happen again.

I am an introvert and impatient and I don’t like disorder and noise. Sure, if I had more kids I’d have to learn to deal with it, and it would be part of my sanctification. But that doesn’t mean it’s something I am eager to experience.

Siblings have conflicts — they fight over a toy or look to see who got more ice cream, they feel slighted when the other one is praised, they feel insecure when the other one accomplishes something, they feel jealous when the other one has greater privileges. Modeling, enforcing, teaching fairness is extremely difficult — it’s hard to know what’s fair to begin with, sometimes impossible, much less how to model, enforce, or teach it.

People say your love isn’t divided, it’s multiplied, but I’m not sure I really believe that. I don’t know that it’s possible not to like one kid better than another at different times or for different reasons.

So it seems I have some fairly strong feelings about not wanting to have more kids. And yet I don’t want to face the criticism some people might have, that I might be refusing a blessing, being selfish, or whatever. What if they’re right? But just because something hurts doesn’t mean it’s right…

Home again

We are home again.

Along with my parents, we went to my in-laws for Thanksgiving, arriving Wednesday afternoon after a lunch in Culver.

On Thursday there was smoked turkey, fresh cranberry sauce (made with mandarin oranges, apples, and raspberry Jell-O — mmmm), sweet potatoes with pecans, and my pumpkin pies with real whipped cream. And leftover birthday cake.

Friday my parents took everyone out for breakfast, and then, believe it or not, Mark and I went shopping. We had a good idea of what few things we wanted, so it wasn’t that bad.

Today Mark’s mom and I did a bit more shopping (much less crowded today), then after lunch Mark and Amy and I headed home.

A few times this evening Amy has taken four or five steps, arms outstretched, finally falling into Mark’s arms.

Tomorrow we go to Shiloh Wesleyan. The answering machine message included times for Sunday school and morning worship, but also Sunday evening worship and Wednesday meetings. Sigh. Why does that sadden me? I don’t believe church is supposed to be a several-times-a-week thing. I would rather it be informal and unofficial — go have lunch at a friend’s after the service, have a game night, that sort of thing. And small groups that meet whenever works for the group, not everybody at the exact same time and day. Yes, I suppose I am reading far too much into that answering machine message. But I miss our old church(es).

Today’s playgroup

One of the new-to-Culver moms decided it would be nice to have a smaller playgroup on Fridays, just the new folks. Today it was my turn to host.

I am a nervous hostess, and thoughts about the playgroup filled my week. Had to clean the house. Had to figure out what to make that would be a treat but not overly unhealthy. Had to plan how to arrange the house and the toys to be safe and welcoming for more and older kids. Worried about making sure everyone would be comfortable.

Yesterday I baked. The sticky orange muffins from Fannie Farmer were a disaster. Good thing I tasted one! I must have grated too much of the orange rind, or maybe the oranges we had were just not very good. The muffins are way too bitter.

Fortunately, the chocolate chip scones turned out just fine. That same old trusty scones recipe, with chocolate chips instead of raspberries, because that’s what we had on hand.

Folks from the Plymouth Wesleyan Church stopped by earlier in the week with a bag of tortilla chips and some salsa con queso, so I had that out, too.

I enlarged the living room playspace AND protected the computer desk by pushing the couch back. I swept downstairs and put a blanket down and some toys. Removed items that I didn’t want messed with, closed them in rooms I didn’t want entered.

I was all ready to go, and decided to check my email. Two emails from folks saying they weren’t going to be able to make it. Humph… what if I threw a party no one would come to?

But Amy G came!

Although Ryan tried to get into as much trouble as he possibly could, he also played with some of the toys and ate some goodies and had a good time. Amy did okay, too. She even greeted Amy G with a crow as well as a smile, and let her cuddle her some.

And Amy G and I enjoyed some good talk and prayer.

Church saga continues

This morning we went to Plymouth Wesleyan Church.

The building did not particularly appeal to us. It’s large. It has a canopy over a little drive, like hotels do. It has a welcome desk. It has a modern vaulted ceiling and a big stage and the floor is sloped like an auditorium — in fact, the bulletin called it an auditorium: something about putting your kids in the nursery in order to have the “best auditorium experience.”

The nursery was a nice comfortable bright room and the staff were friendly. Amy went into the worker’s arms without a fuss (unusual) and was happily playing when I returned at the end of the service.

The music was loud but not so that it hurt my ears. Just loud enough that I couldn’t really hear anyone singing but the worship leaders and one woman behind us. It included a song that talked about blessing the name of the Lord when things go well and when they don’t — so good, this isn’t a prosperity church.

The sermon was intelligent and thoughtful. The series is about how becoming a Christian doesn’t have to be a single, total event, but that people can move closer and closer to Jesus, one step at a time. We agree that this is an accurate and useful way to think about it. He did talk about sin and humanity differently than Calvinists do; his view is that humanity is morally neutral, and that we are led into sin by external things. Does he mean we are not accountable for our sin or that it has no internal aspect? He didn’t seem to think that anyone could avoid sinning, though, so the end result is still that all people are sinners and need Jesus. But I’m more comfortable with the Calvinist perspective that we are born sinful and are accountable for our sinfulness.

There’s a group studying a book by an author we don’t approve of, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the church officially endorses this author.

We feel that this is a church we might be able to go to, but it’s not our ideal; of course we’re not going to find any ideal church. We are trying to just ask for wisdom and discernment as we try to prioritize our desires and see which church is the best fit.

Other churches so far:

Grace Reformed Presbyterian (OPC) — familiar liturgy and theology, comfortable building, quiet piano music including both hymns and choruses, small congregation but a good number of young families; too far away, not fabulous enough to be worth going so far.

Crossroads Evangelical Free — large with plenty of young folks, nice nurseries, intelligent preaching; somewhat unnerving emotionalism and reverence for leaders, not sure of theology. We don’t think we can go to this church; just about every time we’ve visited we’ve felt unnerved by too much.

Calvary Lutheran (LCMS) — mostly reasonable doctrine, friendly ushers; lots of sung liturgy and following along in a book for the order of worship, mostly older congregation, organ, unsure of what folks actually believe there. And I know this is a stupid reason to reject a church, but I really dislike wafers and wine. Just about any other form of bread, and juice, suits my preferences better. Silly me.

Newsong Community Church (AoG) — all I remember is that it was TOO LOUD and too much like a rock concert (I don’t have a problem with Christian (or other) rock music, but I prefer a different style for Sunday worship), and the preacher kept talking about how “if Pastor were here…” Assemblies of God is also a bit too far from our Presbyterianism.

Finding a church, like so many other things, involves both morally / spiritually important things and (mere) personal preferences.

The form of liturgy, the elements for the Lord’s Supper, the kind of music, the demographics of the congregation, the building, are all just matters of preference.

Theology is a little trickier. What is the quotation — “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, diversity; in all things, charity.” Usually this means that, while you go to a church that shares your particular beliefs, you recognize that some other kinds of churches are also truly Christian, though different. It’s harder for us to accept the idea that we might need to actually go to a church whose system of belief differs from ours in significant ways. We don’t want to feel like we have to keep our defenses up on Sundays and in small groups, or “protect” Amy from different influences in Sunday school, and all that sort of thing.

Sick, poo, puke, medicine, aspirator

We are all three still sick. I think I might be just a few days from better, and Mark and Amy perhaps next. Amy’s cough sounds deeper today, but it’s still only occasional, along with her stuffy nose. Mark has dorm duty tonight but he was relieved from football duty last night and we’re all staying home from church tomorrow (even though I was supposed to play a dulcimer offertory and play guitar to accompany the dulcimer group which is leading worship).

This evening during Amy’s naked time, she squatted on the old comforter, holding on to the playtable, and very neatly plopped out a poo — very messy to clean up from the comforter, but leaving her bum nearly spotless. We’re just made to squat. It works so well. Anyway, the comforter is now bunched up in a corner waiting to be washed.

Yesterday evening, we got take-out chinese (which was disappointing). In the car on the way home, Amy puked.

I think it was my fault. At lunch, I’ve been giving her bits of nectarine or mashed cooked blueberries mixed with yogurt, which goes down just fine. But yesterday the only fruit in the house was an apple. I felt too lazy to cook it, so I just stuck a few slices in the food processor, thinking that would mash it up well enough. Still raw though — so even though the pieces were tiny they weren’t really mush, and perhaps there’s something about raw apple that just doesn’t digest well in a baby.

She objected strenuously to the vomiting experience. However, she eventually calmed down during and after a bath, and was fine the rest of the evening. And the car seat cleaned up very well, too.

She objected to her medicine the first two dosings. She is supposed to get two droppers three times a day for a week. After that first dosing I was so dismayed at the thought of having that ordeal so often and so long. But around the third dosing or so she discovered that it tasted fine, so now she mostly accepts it and even opens her mouth eagerly for it.

She continues to object to having her nose suctioned. We try to let her be, as much as we can. When we do feel that a good suctioning would benefit her, we at first have to hold down her arms and cradle her head still. However gently and cuddlingly we do that, she still hates it and is not comforted until it’s all over. But while she cries vehemently, the rest of her mostly goes limp — poor little one, I guess she knows it’s no use to try to fight it.

Reminds me of the great William Carlos Williams short story (go read it!) “The Use of Force.” A benefit is sometimes worth the cost of using force, but it is never a solution to use lightly.

Bottle, bottle bottle bottle, bottle

Tonight Amy and I sang the bottle song.

Verse 1, 2, 3, and so on –

Me: Bottle…, bottle bottle bottle, bottle…

Amy: Bah l

We’re more and more sure that she is making some sounds meaningfully, even though most of them are still very distorted.

Among the first almost-words have been “kitty” (kee kee, keesh, and variations) and “bottle.”

Most clear is “uh-oh,” which she makes when she drops something, when someone else drops something, or when she is thinking about dropping something. She also makes this sound at apparently non-meaningful moments, too.

Today I am pretty sure I heard “milk,” along with the sign, which we’ve been demonstrating to her at lunchtime when she drinks her formula from a sippy. Of course she also clenches and unclenches her fists at other times, so we can’t yet be sure she understands the connection of the sign and the spoken word.

Then there’s “Daddy” (da da, da doo, da boo, and variations), which again sometimes seems clearly to signify Daddy, and other times seems to be random vocalizing.

“Mama” only rarely seems to have any connection with me. Sometimes it seems to mean something about food. (And nope, she’s bottle-fed, and Mark feeds her at dinner and sometimes other times, too.)

To the doctor we go

I woke up this morning with a cough — the cough that, when I get it, typically lingers months after the sickness is gone. The one that makes me feel like I have to be careful breathing and moving so as not to set off a coughing fit.

Therefore I called to see if the doctor could see Amy and I today.

The office we went to for her nine-month wellness visit informed me that they could not see me today because I was a new patient, and they were scheduling new patients two weeks out, and that’s why they recommend new folks establish themselves as patients before they get sick — i.e. just going to the doctor and saying hi, I guess.

Except in all the vast literature they sent me when I made Amy’s nine-month appointment there was nothing about this policy.

Yikes; I was miffed and upset, too.

I called another doctors’ office and asked if they would see us, and they did — unfortunately the only times available were right in the middle of Amy’s afternoon nap, but you take what you get.

Nice nurse. Didn’t like the doctor so much, and he terrified Amy (was it him? or just that it was naptime and she has a cold and was in a strange place…). He seemed careless.

I don’t really know what I want from a doctor.

Good manner is very important to me — I want to be listened to and respected, and I want Amy treated gently and respectfully. This guy’s seeming carelessness, and dismissive attitude towards Amy’s upset (”I don’t take it personally,” he said; did he care about *her* feelings?), were not the manner I’m looking for.

The confusing part is how much authority I want from a doctor. On the one hand I want a doctor to examine the situation and pronounce his or her recommended course of action. On the other hand I want my concerns and ideas to be taken into consideration. This guy may have taken consideration too far — he seemed to essentially say, “whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” which is not quite authoritative enough. I don’t like a doctor to give in to a patient’s fears or demands if what the patient wants is not really the best solution.

Anyway, we came home with antibiotics. Amy hasn’t had any before, and I haven’t had any in a long time, so I won’t worry too much about overuse. Even if I’m not convinced that the doctor was convinced we both had bacterial infections, we might, and this one time won’t hurt us if we don’t. And it just seems better to be precautionary, and not wait until I’m too sick to take care of Amy.

Mark seems to be getting sick, now, too.