Oh and Scott, I tried wordpress, but it appears that I'm a wordpress dunce too. I'm sure it's wonderful though.

So, check me out at myhouseisamess.blogspot.com.

Augustine of Hippo

Yesterday, Clara turned 1. I can't say time has flown, because there have been some long slow passages. I do feel like I haven't treasured enough of her first year though. It's easy to dwell on her difficult points, like the fact that she's just now starting to sleep at night, most of the time anyway. The whole story is that she's a delightful baby, with some exhausting sleeping habits. In her honor, I've decided to take a break from the stories of Clara's less lovely points. With out further ado, here are 10 things I love about Clara.

1. She's mine.
2. She loves me (even when I need a shower and I have morning breath).
3. She makes our whole family laugh on purpose, with very little effort.
4. She's got great coordination (definitely a Monahan trait).
5. She loves people.
-->The other night our church had a Christmas dinner and we sat with a very poor family that our church has been reaching out to. They had bad teeth, smoky clothes, etc. What was cool, was that Clara happily sat with the mom while I got food for myself and the kids. Her love of people really helped bridge the gap between our family and theirs.
6. She loves to snuggle with me.
7. She's a problem solver. She tries over and over again until she figures out the problem she's confronted with.
8. She plays well by herself.
9. This is going to sound very weird, but I love to smooch her squishy hemangeoma.
10. She's beautiful.

Anyone have a guess as to who this person is? or who he looks like? My family has a distinct advantage on this one, but he does bear an uncanny resemblance to someone in particular.

For the last 4 years we have had a Mexican family next door to us. The parents speak very little English, but the girls are bilingual. The girls are the most social and welcoming little girls I have ever met. Anyone who has ever come to our house during daylight hours has probably been greeted by them, especially the yougest one. She literally says "Hi" until you look up, wave, and say "Hi" back. They love my children. If we go outside to play, we instantly have two more older playmates. I wish I could say that I was welcoming and that I saw this as a ministry opportunity, but I haven't been that godly about it. If the girls misbehaved and upset my kids, there was nothing I could do about it. I can't really communicate with their mom, although she and I have tried to talk many times. In short, for the last 4 years, I have seen them as a nuisance, which I'm sure they noticed from time to time. I'm embarrassed to say that, but it's true.

Matt, on the other hand, has been welcoming and conversant. He speaks pretty good Spanish and has spent some time talking with the parents and the girls. (I apologize for saying "the parents" and not names. It sounds impersonal, but I think it's better not to name names this time.) On top of my feelings, God has used Matt to push me into seeing the family next door as a possibility for ministry and friendship. So... over the past few years I have come to be pretty torn by the conflict between my feelings and my calling to be salt and light. Sometimes God used me despite my feelings, but always my heart was resentful and self-righteous.

Then... about a month ago, I came home from having coffee with some friends and I heard wailing on their porch. I saw the girls and their mom on the porch and their mom was wailing as if someone was dead. I walked up and asked the oldest if everything was okay. She said that the little 2-year-old boy they watched during the day was dead and she looked scared. I ran up to the porch and there he was, lying limp on her mom's lap. Her mom was on the phone with 911 and the lady on the phone couldn't understand her. I got on the phone and examined the little boy. He was breathing and there was an ambulance on the way. I sent the oldest girl to go get Matt, who translated for everyone involved. We prayed with her until the ambulance arrived, which didn't take long. The paramedics were incredibly rude, rough, and unprofessional and the whole experience was very upsetting. What we figured out later was that the little boy had had a febrile convulsion, due to his fever. There's a lot more to the story, but this is already a book, so ask me later if you want more details.

After the little boy went to the hospital and we said goodbye to the family, I was really shaken up. Throughout the entire episode, the mom kept saying "O Karen, Karen! Thank you!" and Matt thinks she said something like this (in Spanish), "You walk with God... I'm such a terrible person and that's why this is happening to me!" I didn't understand her, but I just hugged her and cried with her. To my shame, for the first time ever, she seemed like a real person to me. Here was a real, suffering, lost person right next door to me. Jesus' words to "Love your neighbor as yourself" began to really ring home. God was clearly bringing ministry to me, despite my bitter heart.

So... Matt and I prayed that we would find some way to reach out to them, even if it meant reprioritizing. We haven't seen them a whole lot since then, but the day before yesterday the girls and their mom came to my door and asked a favor. The mom had gotten a new job and she wanted to know if I could get her girls on the bus the next morning for her. They would show up at 6:30 and be on the bus by 6:55. Thinking it was a one-time thing, I agreed to it. She wanted to pay us, but we talked her out of it, thanks to Matt's Spanish. Yesterday was the day and it was a little bit of a disaster. I ended up driving them to school, because we missed the bus. Then, this morning I heard a knock at the door at 6:30. Evidently, the language barrier is bigger than we thought. We're committed for the long haul, not just yesterday. At first, I was a little upset. It's not exactly convenient and I don't get much sleep, but I would be blind not to see God's hand in this. Here is my chance to minister, even though it isn't what I usually consider ministry. God really does work in mysterious ways. He put our family in this place and at this time to accomplish His purposes, in spite of me and my weaknesses. Praise God.

"North Central" is what professional linguists call the Minnesota accent. If you saw "Fargo" you probably didn't think the characters sounded very out of the ordinary. Outsiders probably mistake you for a Canadian a lot.

This is making me crazy! I will admit that I was born in the thick of Fargo accents, but I really don't think I sound like I'm from Minnesota. Do I?

The other day, I was checking my email, and as I looked over to check on the kids, I saw Clara very happily playing underneath the coffee table. She had shimmied back there somehow, behind the magazine basket and the toy basket, without making a peep. Jane, on the other hand was making a very unsuccessful attempt and whining the entire time. This is not a surprise to us. She isn't known for her toughness.

The kids in their coats. Don't they look so warm and cozy?

Matt recently had a rear seat installed in the back of the Jeep, so he's able to take two kids with him on his adventures now. This is Clara (10 mo.), and Dana (4) in their car seats, about to head to church in the Jeep.

My grandparents recently visited us and we had a wonderful time, playing and thrifting. They love thrift stores, so I always take them to American Thrift Store when the come to see us. I found some great books and Dana found a really nice soft Buzz Lightyear that he's been sleeping with now. Below is a picture of both Jane Elizabeths. Our Janie is named after my grandma, and it's funny how Jane got my grandma's blue eyes, even though both Matt and I have hazel eyes.

A few weeks ago, we took a much needed trip to Blue Ridge, GA. We stayed in a cabin that Matt's uncle owns. It's pretty secluded and very nice. Thankfully, we had a wonderful and relaxing visit. We spent some time by the Toccoa (sp?) river, putzed around downtown Blue Ridge, went for a family hike, and went to Mercier's Apple Orchard. We're hoping to go back often, but time is scarce right now, so we'll see. At least we know we have a restful, inexpensive place that we can visit when we need a break.

Here are the kids eating breakfast at the cabin. One of the highlights of our trip was that I had more time to make big breakfasts. There was no pressure to rush the start of our day and we were all a lot less cranky. At one point, during our first breakfast there, Dana said, "Mommy? I love vacation!" I do too.

On our vacation, we explored the area around Lake Blue Ridge and the Toccoa a little bit. On one of those jaunts we found a rustic old train depot. It looked so quiet and beautiful. The kids thought it was pretty cool too. It looked like it was from the Island of Sodor.

Dana has really begun to be interested in writing letters, especially his name and the names of people he loves. This picture is from his first attempt at writing his name. He seldom writes the letters in a line, but he does a pretty good job with the shape of the letters and he loves the sense of accomplishment that comes with it.

Janie had a blast with the bag of winter things we pulled out of the attic last week. The weird hat is a hand-me-down from one of Matt's grandparents(?).

After all, I'm almost thirty and I'm a certified English teacher, an avid reader, and I used to do speech and debate in high school for cryin' out loud. If I failed, what would that say about me? Everything had to be perfect.

...but it wasn't.

In fact, it was all of my nightmares rolled into one. First of all, I had an allergic reaction to my make-up (probably because it was too old) and my chin broke out into a hideous scabby-weepy thing. I was barely able to cover it up and only then with the same make-up.

Second, my power point presentation was totally messed up by the transfer from a mac to a pc. I know, you think I was stupid for even thinking it would transfer, but I was assured by a certain someone, who was much techier than me, that it would be fine.

Third, It took 45 minutes into the class period for me and another very helpful student to realize that I had to use the warped presentation, without the pictures and with a weird, over-sized font. It was ugly.

Fourth, in all of the stress, I forgot to turn my cell phone off. Three slides into my presentation, just as I was beginning to relax and breathe, my mom called. Even this would not have been so bad had I been able to find my phone, or had I known how to shut it off in the dark and make it stop playing Ode to Joy. Maybe even then, had I made a joke about it in Matt Monahan fashion, it wouldn't have been so painful for me or so painful for my audience to watch. The sad thing is that I've only had my cell phone for a week and I don't know what the heck to do with it. I fumbled and sweated and wanted to die.

Somehow I finished the presentation and sat through the rest of class. A few very nice girls put their hands on my shoulder and said very sweet encouraging things in an effort to help me feel less embarassed. Even my professor (who is also my friend) tried to help me feel better about it. The bottom line is that I feel utterly humiliated and I don't really even want to post this, but I feel like I should. It's slightly cathartic and I need to let off the pressure valve right now.

Why does it bother me so much that no one sits next to me in class and why does it mean so much that two girls from my old hall stayed to help me and talk to me after class?

God is really dealing with my pride. The truth hurts. Deep in the core of me is a selfish, attention-craving, arrogant, sharp-tongued, fool. This is the truth. There is no way around it. Anything apart from that is a miraculous work of God. Believe me, I want to take credit for my good points, but more and more I realize that the only things I can take credit for are my blatant failures. My hope, and what I'm trying to remind myself, is that in spite of me, God is big enough and he's good... to me... even now.

On a more pleasant note, Clara started to walk pushing her push-walker-thingy tonight, while I was at my class! Matt caught it on video for me. I wish I knew how to post a video. Her little chubby waddle is so unbelievably cute--unlike the diapers we've been changing.

I just finished reading Lilith by George MacDonald, which I would highly recommend to anyone who hasn't read it, especially for those times you are in the literal "dumps". What a wonderful worthy escape from the yuckies.

This week's homework is to read Lewis' book Of Other Worlds, a short essay by George MacDonald from A Dish of Orts (www.ev90481.dial.pipex.com/fantastic_imagination.htm) and a legthy esssay by Tolkien called "On Fairy-Stories" from The Tolkien Reader. After each reading assignment I turn in a brief response to the reading (15 total).

What I'm most excited about is that the class was supposed to meet from 7-9:45, but it's now going to end at 9 instead. This is to allow for additional meetings on separate nights to show films, and once, to read The Screwtape Letters aloud as a class. We are required to attend three of these alternate nights, but I would love to attend as many as I can without neglecting the fam. We'll see. I'm still not sure how I will balance my reading and writing with home life.

Dana is 4! If I really think about it, I get overwhelmed by how fast his little life is passing by. It wasn't that long ago that he wanted to nurse every 45 minutes and life seemed to be ticking by, one slow second after another. God is so good. Happy Birthday sweet boy.

Last week, Matt's grandparents came to town and stayed up at Cloudland Canyon in their RV. One day during their stay, they went with us to the aquarium. Before they arrived to go with us, I got the kids ready to go and packed up what we would need. Well, during a 5-minute phone conversation, they completely covered themselves with marker. They drew on their clothes, their bellies, their legs and their faces... very thorough.

Clara is weaned. She's only 8 months old, but two weeks ago, she really cut back on her feedings. We already weren't getting much sleep due to teething, but add to that the fussy feeding sessions I was trying to pull off, and I was crazy. What really pushed me over the edge though, was the biting. One morning, she bit me so hard (three times in a row) that she drew blood. That was it. When she comes at me with her one sharp tooth bared, ready to bite, I refuse to nurse anymore. I don't care if I could have hung in there. There is only so much that a human being can handle in one day and that was too much. So, now the whole family gets to participate, even though she prefers to get her bottles from me.

Today is Matt's first day teaching at Chattanooga Valley Middle School. He really misses CCS, but he's also enjoying his new job. The faculty have been very welcoming. He feels like an oddball, but you know, he really is an oddball and that's generally what his students like most about him.

I'm taking a class at Covenant this Fall to keep my certification up. Pat Ralston is teaching a class on Monday nights on the Inklings. Hopefully, I won't drive her nuts by being the umpteenth person on her roll, but I'm really excited to take this class. It's been so long since I was able to read and discuss what I was reading in an academic environment. So few people share my taste in books and/or care to talk about what they read. Not that that's a fault, but I do miss the interaction. I did some of the reading already, and I'm pretty pumped. My favorite so far is At the Back of the North Wind, by George McDonald. It's a beautiful book with so much to teach. I look forward to hearing what Dr. Ralston has to say about it. Mmmm. Reading, discussing, learning about literature, good literature. I can't wait.

O, I almost forgot. We are inundated with fresh figs. Does anyone have recipe suggestions for fresh figs?