random discoveries

We happened upon a Tribal Dance Festival on Friday night with some friends. It was a good break from our usual entertainment of reading Dr. Seuss to Jude. A very fun event. We'll be checking the calendar at the craft center more often now!



I'm considering the purchase of some of these ankle bells...



In other news, we've almost depleted our Christmas supply of Jell-o goods from our SS class:( We were happy to discover a local alternative!


Jude didn't seem to notice the difference:)

Park Yard Socialism

Here's the scenario. Use your imagination to determine who the characters are.

A toddler's mom is 8 month's pregnant. She wants to get as much energy out of him as possible. This mean, every nook and cranny of their day is spent in 15-30 minute intervals in the park outside the apartment. The mom takes toys to entertain the said toddler.

He plays happily. The mom sits with a language teacher, trying to force her pregnant brain to remember insanely absurd pronunciations.

Another toddler approaches. These toys are more appealing than the ball he has. Ball is dropped. Cars, bike, etc are confiscated by neighboring toddler.

Toddler-owner begins to hover over his toys. There are a few grabs. He repeatedly shouts "bike, bike" as the neighbor enjoys the music buttons and seat of the owner's ride.

Pregnant mom tells language teacher that she knows sin is innate. Language lesson stops. Mom tries to correct toddler - owner. No grabbing. No screaming. No hovering over toys not being played with at present. Neighbor toddler's grandmother sits in obvious ambivalence to the growing "situation." No correction is offered. This attitude of parental ambivalence appears to prevail in almost all environments. All toys in park appear to be fair game.

But the toddler who brought the toys is without toys. He knows the toys are his. And the mom wonders if we are socialists.

Does she teach her toddler that there is no such thing as private property? When strangers approach her in the park, she does not "share" all that they would like to have at that moment.

How is the situation handled without communicating to him that selfishness and stinginess is ok? How on earth does the gospel interpret this situation...in the life of a 1.5 year old whose reasoning and interpretation skills are...that of a 1.5 year old. There's no long dialogue to be had. Actions interpret.

Eventually, pregnant mom gather toys and goes inside. Parenting books don't appear relevant in the moment.

Toddler-owner rides away on re-possessed bike. Pregnant mom wonders what she should have done.

She's hoping to figure it out before the repeat tomorrow.

P.S. Feel free to comment. I'm really asking for help.

37 weeks

I'm on the edge of 36/37 week mark and I thought a few of you might want to see the progress. My sister makes me put Silas in front of the Skype camera every time I talk to her so she can gauge the growth:) I'm guessing this will be one of the last shots you'll see of my face. Swelling should begin any day now and while I'll try not to complain, I probably won't post it on the world wide web either.



This is a pic I found of my pregnancy with Jude. I think I was at about the same stage...give or take a week or so.



Sometimes I forget how pregnant I am....and then I notice my neighbors staring at me unashamedly as I walk through the complex. I never forget for long:)

itty bitty?

David and I both remember looking at those other babies in the nursery when Jude was born and thinking "we're sure glad ours is the big one." Just seemed less likely we would break an almost 11lb-er.

It appears, at this point, that Silas is on the small side.

I admit we're a little taken back by the possibility of having an itty bitty dawkins boy. In preparation, I bought some "tiny baby" clothes I found at store. Wow. They are small.



The other day I walked into the room to find David with a Tigger doll stuffed into his shirt. He was pulling him out of a button hole, explaining to Jude that Silas was in my tummy. I'm not really sure Jude understood his demonstration, but it did seem to make an impression....

remind me of this...

...about 5x every day:)




"Imagine you spent the day rearranging and cleaning up the living space in your home. You have flowers and clean curtains and fresh throw pillows and maybe a candle. You are pleased. The right lights are on. Things are good. And then, like the wolf on the fold, the people in your life descend upon your work. They peel off socks and put their feet on the coffee table. They come from afar bringing baskets of craftiness to spread out upon the couch. They pop popcorn and carelessly munch. Someone goes so far as to get out the puzzles. In such a moment, it would be easy (don’t ask me how I know) to become shrill. It is easy to see each chin-glancing popcorn shrapnel as an insult. “Don’t you value the work I do?!” “Don’t you care how long this took me?!” “Why can’t you just not do this??” Even if you don’t say it, you may feel a little despair, a little resentment, and a little “why do I even try?”.

But the truth is, we need a new perspective. It is moments like this that should give us a lot of job satisfaction. These people are enjoying you. They are enjoying your work. But, like a great dinner all laid out on the table, you don’t enjoy it without touching it. A chef would not look at dishes coming back to the kitchen untouched as a sign of success. It would not mean great things about your work. Yet this is what we want from the work we do in our homes.

I’m sure most of you have noticed the magnetic power of what you clean. Clean the bookshelf up, and everyone wants to read. Organize the little toys, and everyone wants to play with the things they have been callously walking on for days. This is a sign that you are succeeding, that your people love your work. Think of it like food, because that is how it is getting used."

by Rachel Jankovic at Femina





L-O-V-E this perspective. Fresh insight once more from one of my favorite young mom encouragers.

inter-cultural marriage

Not long ago, I asked a national friend here if she thought that, from a distance, people might think that I am an American married to an asian. David is as dark skinned as some of our neighbors and his dark eyes don't help him any.

She responded in the affirmative, with a chuckle.



David, of course, denies that this is the case. But sometimes when we're out in a crowd, I look over and feel sure that unless he opens his mouth...they just think he's a lucky asian who got a fair skinned wife:)

all aboard

pre-school drop out

After a two week trial, Jude dropped out of preschool.

There were a variety of factors involved. The elephant prayer time wasn't really involved in the decision, though we're not sorry to wait a little longer to wade through those waters.

Our primary reason: we didn't feel Jude was quite prepared to meet the academic standards of the school.

We've heard from a number of people that asians are very serious about education. Jude's little friends come over to play and talk about exams and pages of homework. Our language teacher told us her daughter was ranked 2nd in her class. She was pushing for #1. Um. Her daughter is in 2nd grade. Who ranks second graders?

We were assured that this was more of Montessori type program, a pressure free environment. But as time wore on and we observed more and more classroom time, we realized that the preschool curriculum was a bit...too academic. Jude's 1.5. We're not really concerned with his progression in learning the the ABCs or the identification of an octagon. Apparently, asian parents are.

So, as much as a few hours a morning would have helped with language study, little Jude's going to have to find his social interaction elsewhere for a while longer. I guess for now, we'll be "homeschooling." :)

what if...

This is the stage of pregnancy for me when I start to wake up in the middle of the night and wonder...what would I do if I were waking up to contractions? I confess that of late, that thought has been a rather alarming one. There are all sorts of scenarios that run through my mind. Hardly pleasant birth stories that I'm eager to greet.

What if the labor is too quick for me to make it an hour across town to the hospital? What then?

We don't have a car. What if no one is available to take me? Would a cab driver even transport me once he realizes I'm in labor?

If the baby comes early and my mom is not here yet, where will we leave Jude? Won't he feel terribly confused?

What if no one is around to watch him and we have to bring him to the hospital. Then what? Will I have to deliver alone?

What if my nurses don't speak English? What if my doctor is out of town and a strange asian man is the alternative?

What if complications arise and we have to navigate the waters of emergency care here?

If I had a true handle on godliness, perhaps these questions wouldn't cause me a moment's anxiety. Maybe my pillow would have seen a few less tears in recent weeks. But, alas, the questions persist and I battle the anxiety of living far from friends and family, in a very strange land where every acquaintance or friend we have, we've only known for 5 months or less. At 8 months pregnant, my emotions are hardly ruled by truth at every moment. And most often, in the middle of the night when my mind jumps onto that track, I want to write a desperate email home begging my mom to come early....just in case.

What do I know though?

I know that God keeps his promises. That if he cares for the sparrows and flowers of the field, he'll much more care for me.

I know that worry is fruitless and forbidden. The proper action is thanksgiving and prayer, not fretfulness.

I know that this little one's days have already been planned out by one much wiser than I. There will be no surprises to him.

And so. I'll probably keep waking for another few weeks. And I can't promise I won't shed a few more tears...but I'll be battling to put aside the 'what if's' and put on truth.

After all, promises are meant to be trusted.

the helper

I love this stage with Jude. He's totally a little helper.



Sweeping the floors (however inefficiently), filling the washer, drying the potatoes....



love it!