I am a jungle gym.

I work with 12-24 month old children, and for those of you who are unsure of where that falls in the developmental process... my youngest are still crawling and drinking a bottle, my oldest can tell you their colors, walk, talk, and is just entering into the notorious "terrible 2's" phase. I must blog about my job because there are things that no one knows because none of my kids can talk. They are all under 18 months, so they say "no", "mine" and "hi" really well, that's about it. I also have only 5 children, which according to state guidelines for staff-child ratios means I don't need someone else in the room. Ha! If they only knew what went on, they might change their minds. 8 straight hours with 5 toddling one year olds would make anyone go a little crazy! I have started to talk, constantly. I talk, talk, talk. Some of it makes sense, most of it doesn't... the kids are finding their voices and love to make noises. Coopers latest is doing the indian thing yelling and covering and uncovering his mouth quickly. I mimic it and he laughs. Riley chatters really fast nonsensically, I mimic that too. It's a challenge to describe in the blog, sounds and noises, but this is what consumes so much of my day!

They crawl all over me all the time, play with my hair, zip up my zippers, and dig in my pockets. I have gotten to that point that I will hardly notice them until they start to hurt me, digging those tiny toes into my thigh or pinching under my arms while using me as an aid to stand. Sometimes I'll be sitting there enjoying some much-needed adult conversation with the person that stumbled into my room (not expecting to stay longer then 30 seconds "how was your weekend?" I ask anxiously... intellectual stimulation... desperate!) and I'll look down and not even realize that Zoe has been on my lap for a few minutes, where did she come from?? I am constantly clapping and "yahhing" when they do the simplest thing, like throwing away their paper towel, putting a block in the bucket or putting their cup on the counter. It's a big deal!! I want them to do it again, so I praise them unnecessarily making it into this HUGE deal!

Now, yesterday (I hope Cooper's mom never reads my blogs), but I'm pretty sure Cooper took his first steps with me!! I'm not even kidding you. We're not allowed to tell the parents when they do big milestones because we like them to enjoy it later that weekend, sometimes weeks later, when they're at home, playing with them on the floor and they start walking like 15 steps - they always think their child is a prodigy when in reality he's been practicing for weeks at school. So, I've been standing Cooper up and backing up a few scootches, holding out my arms, waiting for him to take that first step. Everyday, he just laughs and falls forward, not quite at that point when he's ready. And yesterday, he took 2 steps! Then 5 more, and he was really walking!! Wow. What a privilege to see a child walk for the first time, so fun to be the one to freak out and make it this huge deal!

I love my job, because I love kids. I struggle with the management, most of the people I work with - but the kids, they are my sun! Love you Cooper, Zoe, Riley, Olivia and Adreanne! I have so many more stories, but I'll stop myself.

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The Theology of Saturday.

This morning as I was driving to Wash Park to go for a nice, long run I was listening to K-love, a Christian radio station. They had Max Lucado in the studio this past week, apparently an "Easter expert" and they replayed a part of it this morning. Divine timing because it really got me thinking about the silent day between Good Friday and celebratory Easter morning: Saturday. He commented (appropriately on Saturday) that this day is one that was filled with worry, fear and confusion by so many people, especially the disciples. I cannot even imagine how they must have felt after spending years following Him, being discipled by Him, and then... He's gone. They must have felt so lost, wondering what their purpose is now in life and what they are supposed to do. I am sure they were sorting through the emotions of grief and loss, guilt and confusion. After all, they really did not understand why Jesus had to die, why did He not save Himself?? They all responded in different way, Judas with betrayal, Peter with denial, and the others by running away and falling asleep during Jesus' time of greatest need. Max Lucado applies this to our lives and talks about the theology of Saturday. How many of us are living in a season of Saturdays, inbetween the intiation of pain and the solution of pain. We are waiting for Sunday, the day when God will make sense of the confusion, when He will comfort our pain and give our lives purpose again. I feel like this is somewhat of a vague metaphor in that it can be applied generally and specifically. In some ways, I think that living on earth is just one big long Saturday, but also I think there are specific seasons in our lives when we are waiting for the solution of our pain and that it does happen here on earth, eventually.

The other way that Max (can I call you Max? I feel like you're my friend) applies this to our lives... he talks about how Jesus also walked through this day with us, this Saturday. He walked through the pain and confusion, He knows... He understands. Those four words are just incredible aren't they? He knows, he understands. I just finished up with a Beth Moore study where one of the greatest lessons I learned was in response to my needs and wants that "God is". And in the Bible, God is described as "I Am"... a simple, yet profound way of describing who God is. It's like trying to describe God with a paragraph full of adjectives is simply a waste of time and gets you nowwhere, instead it's in the simple and powerful statements that the deepest truths are understood, spoken straight to our souls. I am just astounded that Jesus understands and He knows. It brings me to tears here in Dazbog cafe because it is so important and emotional to be understood and to be known, just in general none-the-less by the creator of the universe. Wow. It's amazing how the truthes of Easter impact me differently every year. I am so excited to head to church tomorrow and dance and celebrate that HE IS ALIVE! and HE IS RISEN! and all the other purple phrases splattered across the bulletins in churches across America. Praise Him and Happy Easter friends.

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It's not open for interpretation.

I was browsing in Barne's and Noble the other day and came upon this Easter display... it was interesting to see B & N's interpretation of this holiday. To be honest, I was offended because I'm somewhat protective of Easter. Christmas I feel is a lost cause... so much has been transformed to be about everything except Christ's birth, but Easter is so dear to me. It is the celebration of Christ's death and resurrection and while these things couldn't have happened without his birth, his death on the cross and rising from the grave are the very foundation of my salvation. And my salvation is at the core and essence of who I am. And it irritates me when Barnes and Noble attempts to use it as propoganda. The picture doesn't display it, but around the table includes these authors, some Biblical writers, others... not so much:
Tim LaHaye
St. Augustine
C.S. Lewis
Lee Strobel
N.T. Wright
Brian McLaren
Anne LaMott
Dallas Willard
Richard Foster
Brennan Manning
Chicken Soup
Mother Theresa
(not one single Bible)

They are all over the board from conservative to liberal, from ancient to current. They wanted to make sure to appease each person's spiritual appetite, and most of the books had nothing to do with Easter, they were simply just Christian books. And what's missing is the MOST important book... God's Word. My favorite is that when you buy two items, you can receive a special Easter tote for only $4.95! An Easter tote, so that on Easter day you can carry your special spiritual Easter books in your Easter tote. Really?? Jesus dies on the cross for our sins and we make totes and try and sell irrelevant and not even Biblical books?? Really? My heart aches that people have lost or have never found what Easter means. It does not mean Easter bunnies, or eggs hunts, or pretty white hats and pastel dresses. It is the blood of Christ shed for you and me. This is not open for interpretation. This is not to be dressed up or exchanged for materialism and trends. This cross, this life, this death, this resurrection is the living example of God's deep, real love and grace. Can we put that on a poster on Barnes and Noble? Or maybe on a pink tote?

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Laughter.

I have been attending a church called Denver United now for about 5 months, and I love it. It's challenging and real and Biblical, and... it's funny. I know that sounds like a strange thing to say about a church and at first I didn't know how I felt about it. They value laughter, although I'm sure that laughter is not in their top ten list of values like worship and prayer. However, Rob Brendle, our senior pastor cracks me up! Repeatedly he will say a bit facetiously, "Come on now, we're in church! Stop smiling and laughing. We're supposed to be serious." Most of the time this comment follows a random tangent about Star Wars or an embarrassing experience of his childhood, or last week. The other thing that makes me laugh hysterically is Andrew "the Schmidt" who does our weekly video announcements. He goes all over Denver, taping some awkward, informative and funny announcements of what is coming up at DU. I always say it's my favorite part of church, which is probably not really true, but it is sometimes. Laughter has a way of making people feel comfortable, if you're ever at some kind of show and the performer makes you laugh, you immedietly kind of settle in. You now have something in common with the rest of the crowd and it creates a unique experience. At Denver United, it has the same effect, it unifies us as a body, as a family, as friends, as people who may have never met but now we have two things in common, we love the Lord, and we are all laughing at some inside joke that Pastor Rob shared. It binds us together and makes us feel comfortable and it's a very spiritual experience. Laughter is so spiritual I am convinced and I think to be honest it's such an important part of my Sundays now: laughing, worshipping, singing, praying, receiving the Word in my heart and being challenged in my walk.

If you would like a good laugh, here is the link to all the previous video announcements from the famous Andrew "the Schmidt"... enjoy the laughter!

(just click on video ---> video announcments)

www.denverunited.com/multimedia I recommend the most recent one 2/28!

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My Life Today in a Blog Post.

Today I am...

- incredibly sad that tomorrow will be Nico's last day in my class. I get the daily privilege of hearing every word that comes out of his mouth for 8 hours, he is intelligent and hilarious for a 2 year old and I will miss him dearly.

- tired and exhausted from my weekly 5k run, but excited about meeting new people and great conversation over beer at the Snug.

- obsessed with Alex Lambert, he's the boy with the mullet on Idol and I just finished listening to his Tuesday night performace, which I DVRed, 4 times. I'm pretty sure that means I'm obsessed.

- planning on baking scotcheroos this weekend

- irritated that my house is a mess and so wish I could snap my fingers like Mary Poppins and have it be clean!

heading to bed...

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Huffing and Puffing.

My first drafts, when I put something on paper the first time, it is vulnerable. It is my recorded train of thought in all it's nonsensical and chaotic glory. It makes sense in my head, it leaks out my fingers onto the page (or computer screen) and when I re-read it, it ends up making less sense then my one year old student Rylan at school who talks 90% gibberish. So I edit, I rearrange, I delete, add on. The original life is still there, only changed so the point of what I was trying to get across or the story I was trying to tell now is communicated clearly to others. The problem with blogging is that you usually do minimal editing and it really bothers me looking back at previous blog entries that are out there, posted. It's too late to edit and yet they do not always reflect my best writing ability. It's frustrating, but I need to let it go and allow this form of expression to reflect my imperfect ramblings.

Yesterday while reading Shauna's entries on her blog, she wrote one last November called Sweet Season. She writes:
"I am so happy right now. I'm learning that life is made up of seasons, some are hard and some are easy. I know that life won't always be like it is now. And because of that I'm doing my best to soak it up, every drop. I don't take one dinner with my old friends or morning on the couch for granted."

What I'm going to write I know is bordering on a pity party... but WOW am I ready for a sweet season! Anytime God, because life has been hard and I have been in a season of loneliness and confusion for awhile. And it is good, and this is why it's only bordering on pity, because I write this with complete heart and head recognition that I am blessed and that this season is preparing and strengthening me and my faith. I am learning so much and so I wouldn't want to trade these hard experiences in life for anything. They are teaching me to appreciate those sweet seasons even more. I write not with the spice of discontent, I am most certainly learning to find joy in the midst of hardship. However, I crave a new season when I am not constantly having to fight to remind myself of truth. I do not have a man in my life who can remind me that I am valuable and beautiful and while God tells me those things, everything else in my life is screaming at me that I'm expendable and not beautiful. I do not have a job that I go to where I feel like I am using the skills and abilities God has given me to their fullest potential and so I feel frustrated and useless and have to constantly remind myself that God has placed me there for a reason. My job makes me feel like I have no purpose, and yet God has a wonderful purpose for my life. I would love a season in life when I don't feel like I'm walking uphill, huffing and puffing and wondering when I'm going to get a break. I ache for a sweet season when smiling and laughter and joy are not something I have to work for but come easy. I am writing this and have a feeling that this blog could be easily misunderstood and I do not want to sound like I am complaining. I am just being honest, Lord... I am ready for a sweet season.

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On Writing.

Last summer I baby-sat for two boys, one of them played lacrosse and was in 6th grade. The other was younger and would play catch with me until I couldn't stand it anymore. They live in a pristine neighborhood where their lawn was always perfect. When you walk into their house, there is never anything out of place. It is a very clean, clutter-free home. The mom had perfect hand-writing and I never once saw her frazzled or in a hurry. She was always on-time, always called ahead, and had a check already written out waiting for me when I got there. There were never any dirty dishes in the sink and her fridge looked practically empty because it was so organized. The same with her pantry, there was just enough to have variety and have plenty of food to eat, but not a box of cereal more. There was no half-eaten pizza box stuffed on top of the milk cartons or forgotten box of rice behind the granola bars. You get the picture, she was a neat freak and very controlled, but not unpleasantly so, but just enough to make you feel a little anxious because you didn't want to mess anything up.

Tonight I baby-sat for a family of four, the kids are always in my personal bubble the minute I step through the door ready to show me their lost tooth or tell me about being a flower girl or show me their latest treasure. All three of the older ones talk at the exact same time and it's a beautiful and fun chaos. Little Molly toddles along wondering what all the excitement is about. The house is older, fixed up with lots of character. The kids are loud and hilarious, but they are polite and well-behaved also. I am always greeted with hugs from the mom and dad and offered food and drinks. Their generosity is overwhelming. I love the random clutter in the corners, the dirty dishes in the sink, the fridge filled with leftovers. I love the bath toys in the tub and the jewelry and toiletries littering the bathroom counter giving the room a lived-in look. The house is by no means dirty or overwhelmingly cluttered, just incredibly lived in. It reeks of life and I far better prefer this house. It draws out the free, creative artist in me that longs to live a real and raw life.

As I sat in that house tonight, the fire lit warming the room, the four kids sound asleep upstairs, I read, I wrote and my creative juices started flowing. I have been working on my African essays recently and I picked up a book today called Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott at the library today. I'm a fourth of the way through already and I would be further if I didn't have to write down a quote every 5 minutes because I can't underline because I do not own it, although I'm beginning to think this one might be my next Barnes and Noble purchase. I dug through Anne's thoughts on writing, spurring on questions, doubts, insecurities, and excitement in me. I also caught up on Shauna Niequist's blog, enjoying her story, her descriptions, her humor and her insights into life. Also gleaning some more books from her lists to add to my much-too-long books to read list. Tonight was a night about writing, I've given this up to the Lord, asking what it is that He wants me to do with this passion and skill of mine. I feel tonight I was revving my engines, amping up for what seems to be a greater and intentional pursuit to write, to define why I'm writing and to figure out if this blogging will ever be my only public sharing of my thoughts, or if God has more in store. I felt I needed to document tonight, it seemed fitting to write about this unique evening and I look forward to stepping out even more into this world of writing... curious of what it holds.

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