Author Archives: Kari

Through His Eyes

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I sort of hate winter. Like, I fall apart and have a really bad attitude about it not unlike a toddler throwing a temper tantrum–it’s bad. So it makes sense that I would live in New England, hating winter and all. Fortunately this post isn’t actually a downer about things I hate, it’s a shameless excuse to share cute pictures of my baby. And to say that even though I still hate winter, this one has actually been kind of fun because I get to watch it through eyes that have never seen snow before. I mean look at his face…I really can’t hate something that leaves him filled with so much wonder.

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And then there’s this one which has nothing to do with winter, but isn’t he cute? I love him so much. That’s all. Carry on.

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The Golden Hour

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 There is a certain hour in the day when dead things come alive again—resurrected by the sun. Grays and browns are robed in light and the landscape drips in gold and glitter.

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The winter earth is not dead; it’s resting, waiting, anticipating when life and color will open before us again.

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Here’s to finding new life in a new year.

Love From the Start

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All last week it rained and snowed while Roman and I were holed up in the house waiting for the weather to clear. Roman was such a crank; he screamed every time I tried to put him down and get anything done so I finally gave up and held him while he napped. I didn’t feel good, I was frustrated and exhausted, and if I’m being perfectly honest—I wanted to take a nap myself or get stuff done around the house instead of hold him. But then, right in the middle of us both being cranky, he tucked his soft, warm head up under my chin and fell asleep in my arms.

It was magic.

In spite of me.

I realized while I lay there holding him how it felt just like holding him for that very first time. After 20 something hours of labor and the three longest hours of my life pushing—this bruised, screaming, pink little baby was put on my chest. And though we had both been through so much, he tucked up under my chin, stopped crying, and fell asleep listening to my heart beat against his. We were never strangers; we knew each other from the start.

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I thought I loved him then. I know I love him now.

And I love every moment he lets me hold him in my arms…before he starts arching his back, pummeling me with those legs that never stop moving, or trying to rip my glasses off and fling them across the room.

He keeps me busy. He wears me out. And then he falls asleep in my arms and reminds me why I would do every hour of labor all over again to hold him once more for the very first time.

Today the sky is blue and the roads clear of snow and slush. Roman and took a really long walk around the neighborhood and I think after breathing some fresh air and stretching our legs, we’re starting to like each other again :]

Besides, who couldn’t love this face?

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Is Modern Christianity Relevant?

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10859615_10152506058101517_915080845_nThere is something about the rain that makes me want to write…a sleeping baby doesn’t hurt either. I’m curled up on the couch in a dark living room listening to the rain hit the window. The cat is in my lap, after turning about 15 times before finding just the right spot—that spot being one that requires I hold the laptop just far enough away to be a bit uncomfortable for typing. But I feel sorry for him—he doesn’t get much attention anymore so I’ll hold him and type this way if it lets him know I still love him—even if I am the one who brought that noisy baby into the house. Besides, I need someone to proofread this for me and he’s quite scrupulous.

And now the baby is awake; you see why I don’t write anymore?

I’ve been thinking lately about modern Christianity. I think it’s the modern part that’s bothering me. I was looking through a list of the Top 100 Christian Bloggers or something like that. I was familiar with some of the names and faces and have read articles from many of them. But it was the words describing these writers that got my attention:

Progressive

Change

Radical

Rethinking Biblical Christianity

Brew your own faith

All of these blogs seemed to be coming from the same basic perspective: Modern Christianity is bad so we need to rewrite our faith.

Now before you start pummeling me with words, let me be clear: I’m not against change—sometimes change is needed. I’m not against asking hard questions and examining our faith knowing we may find things we’re doing wrong. I’ve been attending conservative Baptist churches my whole life and let me tell you, sometimes Baptists can be cray cray. Some of the worst people I’ve ever known were “born again” Baptist church goers and I’ve been to a few churches that caused more harm than good. So I’m not here to defend organized religion or the people who run it. There’s been more than one day when I was ready to be done with religion {not God, religion} altogether.

But on the other side of this story, I believe if our faith is right and true, then it is also timeless. There’s no need to “brew my own faith” because my faith is not my own—it wasn’t written by or for me. It was written by and for God, for his people all over the world for all time. Perhaps my particular church in my teeny, tiny corner of the world needs to change—but my faith, the Bible I read to know and understand that faith, and God himself—these are unchangeable and no new or progressive interpretation need change that.

I’m getting tired of the negativity among Christians these days. I’m getting tired of my brothers and sisters in Christ being ashamed of our faith and practice. This is not to say I haven’t at times been guilty of the very same things. But it seems the general attitude about the church among my generation is, let’s burn it to the ground and start over.

Let’s take our ancient, timeless faith and do something new and exciting with it.

Let’s show people how our peculiar, countercultural way of life is super relevant and not hard or sacrificial.

Forgive me if I sound harsh but this doesn’t make sense.

Because here’s the thing: my way of life doesn’t make sense unless it’s based on something bigger and more important than me, something bigger and more important than what I find relevant and exciting for me personally. I do not need to make my way of living relevant to the culture around me because I am not trying to be like the culture around me. I’m trying to be like Christ and if Christ is anything like the world I live in, then why would I want him anyway? My God is different. He’s light. He’s beauty. He’s justice. He’s hope. He’s everything this world can’t give me and that is part of why I believe and hope in him—not because he’s relevant but because he’s so very different from everything else I’ve ever known.

I don’t want to change God into my image; I want to be changed into his. I don’t want God to be current or progressive; I want him to be timeless and unchanging so I can anchor my soul to a rock who won’t move.

I’ve been reading my way through the Old Testament and am just a few pages into Leviticus. Leviticus is not easy reading, my friends. This book is all about rules and regulations and the very specific way God wants things done. Why? Because God is holy and not like us. Because God wants his people to be set apart and different from the people around them. Christianity is about God and about being his peculiar people. Though organized religion may falter and change, the God of the Bible and the way he desires his people to live never does.

Let’s not confuse changing our mistakes in religion with changing the timeless truth of God and his Word. Yes, God is relevant to modern culture but it’s not because we changed him and made him that way; it’s because he and his timeless truth are always relevant in every culture just as they are.

 

Not Alone

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My Boys Collage

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10735788_10152432829691517_710490961_nTonight I sat outside in the dark looking at the stars. I felt small here on earth looking at all the light poking through from up there. Roman was with me and fussed if ever I took my hand off of him. So I rested it on his head or chest and he quieted back to sleep with his mittened fingers wrapped around mine in the cold. He just wants to know I’m there, still holding onto him in the dark. Maybe that’s why I look at the stars, even though they make me feel small—I just want to know God is watching over me in the dark.

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” Psalm 19:1 {ESV}

Change.

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The leaves are falling like rain outside my window. My baby boy, who is three months old already, sits across the room from me sound asleep in his swing. His little feet poke up over the end because, though I’ve told him to stop, he just keeps growing and changing as if he doesn’t need my permission to do so. I was hoping he would be my sweet snuggly baby forever but he insists on growing up as fast as he can.

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Yesterday I made the mistake of looking through pictures from when he was born. When I realized how much he’s already changed I panicked a little and asked Darren if we could have another baby; you should have seen his face :]

When I think about my life just one year ago, I can’t believe how much it’s changed. It was just me and Darren and our life was all about work and travel and building a home. We still work and talk about travel and are still building the same stupid home but how different life is now with the this little guy along for the ride.

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I’ve never been one to resist change, actually, I think I crave it. I like adventure and I like trying new things. But I’ve noticed this year that change is fast becoming one of my least favorite things. I didn’t want it to be fall because that meant summer was over. And I don’t want the leaves to go because that means we will soon be swept away into winter.

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Over the last few weeks as I’ve walked around the neighborhood with Roman in his stroller, I’ve looked up at the leaves painted proudly in orange and red and gold. I’ve felt the air grow crisp around me and noticed the way the whole world smells like a big cup of hot tea with all the dry leaves. Then last week when I was walking around, I noticed I wasn’t looking up at the trees anymore but at the ground where all the fallen leaves now pool in colorful piles along the way. It made my heart ache a little to think even fall will soon be done and gone as well.

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I gathered a handful of leaves for Roman’s baby book…a little memory of his first year in this brand new world when he changed me and brightened my world as much as the painted leaves have changed and brightened the world around us.

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Babies are art; they are paint brushes who color and change everything they touch. I will never be the same after having him, nor do I want to be. I only want time to slow down—so I can hold my baby a little longer and not have my heart-broken by him growing up so very, very fast.

The Wild Blue Sea

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Baby Boy, you saw the ocean for the first time this week, heard the music of the tide pulling on and off the shore. You felt the briny air on your soft baby skin and watched the evening sun melt into the waves. I hope Darling, that your heart and soul and mind are as deep and wide and wild as the deep blue sea.

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“All good things are wild and free.” –Henry David Thoreau

Summer Baby

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“To love another person is to see the face of God.” -Victor Hugo

My boys. My world.

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I don’t want to let go of summer. Nature is working against me though and already fall is willfully inching in around us. It’s a perfectly crisp 70 degrees out right now and I’m sitting here sipping my first pumpkin latte of the season. The Pats are playing tonight and there is very little that makes me as happy as the beginning of football season. Today when I went walking around the block, I noticed the first leaves beginning to change and glide to the ground. Normally I’m excited about all these fallish things—it’s my favorite time of year and I’m usually ready by now for riding boots and cider donuts.

But not this year. This year I want to hold on forever to the green, sunshiny season when my baby was born and I was reborn as a mother. Already six weeks have passed since he came into our lives and I’m afraid he’ll be all grown up by the time the last leaves fly and this summer—this most transformational of summers—will be done, gone, and forgotten in a blink.

So I’m holding on. Holding on to my summer baby and the sunshiny season when he was born.

This week I started taking him for walks around the block in his stroller. I’ve mostly been holed up in the house since he was born because it still feels like a bit of an ordeal trying to leave the house with a newborn. But you can only stay inside drinking espresso and watching Netflix for so long before you start to go a little cray cray. So we walk and explore and breathe in all that wonderful fresh air…and we don’t go crazy…it’s a win win.

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We stop all along the way and snap pictures of whatever pretty summer things we can find.

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Wild flowers

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And herbs going to seed

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And colorful bushes and leaves

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It rained last night and today the air was filled with the fresh, clean smell of wet pine needles. Big billowy whipped cream clouds went floating along and the sky was that perfect cobalt blue that follows after the rain. These are the days I want to remember. These summer days when my baby is tiny and happiest curled up tight in my arms. These days when I’m a brand new mommy and me and this baby are seeing the world together for the first time—he truly has never seen it before and I somehow see it all so differently now that he’s here.

These are the days, the perfect summer days that I want to remember forever.

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 A fresh little bud in my garden, With petals close folded from view,

Brightly nods me a cheery “Good morning” Through the drops of a fresh bath of dew.

I must patiently wait its unfolding, Tho’ I long its full beauty to see;

Leave soft breeze and warm, tender sunshine To perform the sweet office for me.

I may shield my fair baby blossom; With trellis its weakness uphold;

With nourishment wisely sustain it, And cherish its pure heart of gold.

Then in good time, which is God’s time, Developed by sunshine and shower,

Some morning I’ll find in the garden Where my bud was, a beautiful flower.

–The poem, Mother’s Garden  

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Introducing…

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Roman Craig, born Monday July 14th 2014 at 10:04 PM.

8lbs even and 23″ long

First I thought you were going to kill me and then you gave me life. This is love unimaginable.

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 Meeting you at last.

 

Waiting.

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Today I did something I never do: I finished a cup of coffee. I make myself a cup every day and always get a sip or two but the rest ends up being poured down the sink at the end of the day after I’ve been too busy or distracted to drink it.

But today is different. Today is quiet.

Today is a day in between the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Our baby was due on Wednesday but decided not to come. So we wait. Wednesday was also my last day at work. I say “at” work purposely because I do realize it was not my last day “of” work—I have plenty of mommy friends who might feel the need to correct me should I not clarify :]

On Wednesday I hurried around the office tying up the loose ends of my work, moving through the stacks of paperwork and filing I had not yet done. The day ended in a flurry with blue ink smeared all over my left hand from filling out form after form. I still feel like there’s so much I didn’t get done but my time there is up and there really is nothing left to do but move on.

Yesterday I was busy at home, again rushing through projects and a mile long to-do list of things I want finished before bringing home baby. I didn’t feel good and thought for sure the baby was going to come so I hurried trying to beat his arrival with a clean house.

Well, today the house is clean and my crazy list is done but our baby is quite opinionated already and still hasn’t decided to come.

So, for the first time in a long time, I find myself with a quiet day and nothing to do. There is no work schedule or to-do list. Everything is done and today I simply sit and wait. This may very well be the last day I have nothing to do for oh, the next 25ish years so I’m trying to savor it and do what I love—tap out words and sip strong coffee for starters.

I have lots of sister-in-laws and most of them have reminded me lately to enjoy these last days before the baby comes because nothing will ever be the same after he does. I’m sure they’re right and yet it’s a strange thing trying to sit calmly and quietly while you wait for your whole life to change.

Today is a quiet day.

Perhaps I’ll have another cup of coffee, tap out a few more words. Certainly I’ll take a nap.

Soon this baby, this stubborn baby who right now is kicking and jabbing me and making my belly bounce around in the morning sun, he will be in my arms. He will need me constantly—to feed him, to hold him, to change his diapers and clothes, and to comfort him as he wakes up in this strange new world. I will be busy, tired, and probably overwhelmed.

So today I am quiet. Today I am waiting—standing between the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Savoring life as it is; looking forward to life as it will be.

See you on the other side.

—Kari