Morally deficient

Sometime last week, someone on the internet wrote in passing that depression was on the list of ailments that was associated with the morally deficient. Normal people get headaches, the morally deficient get depressed. Ain't that a peach?

Having experienced the pits of depression these past two winters, my doctor and I decided to treat the issue as if it were seasonal affective disorder, and two weeks ago I started taking a low dose of Wellbutrin which is an anti-depressant (and smoking cessation aid, I learned). The point of this is to blunt or avoid completely another winter nosedive. Depression entails a lot of collateral damage.

But let's talk about my morally deficient self. First of all, I don't know that I feel morally deficient. But I admit that since reading that little throw away line, I haven't been tempted to wear a t-shirt proclaiming the ever present specter of depression in my life.

Then again, my daughter's recent memory verse is Romans 3:23: "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." That's a universal accusation of moral deficiency if there ever was one. And in a recent famous interview of the new Pope when asked "Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?" answers, "I am a sinner." At the end of his elaboration on the point, he concludes,

"I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance."

 I find this summary very powerful. It allows me to accept my moral deficiency whether through depression or the lack of patience with my family or judgmental stance toward others. I don't need to pretend that my mess doesn't stink. It stinks. AND Jesus is mericful; I'm not thrown out because of my mess. AND Jesus is patient; he's not tapping his toe, looking at his watch as I fumble around trying to clean up. Instead, he is with me, the morally deficient, with me in love.

It is very uncomfortable to stop there as an American protestant. After Jesus loves me, I'm supposed to clean up my behavior, no? But what if I focused on the present risenness of Jesus in my life? On that infinite mercy and patience? And if my behavior cleans up, it does. And if it doesn't, it doesn't. But what I have done is to train myself to laser in on Jesus and whatever he does or does not do in my life.

Early Reader Books, Part 1

As a Zoobean curator and mom, I'm always on the prowl for a good kids book. For me, I'm looking for good art and an interesting re-readable story. And then our oldest started learning to read.

Early reader books were nothing like the "good" kids books I had been looking for. This is a very different, transitional stage for the child who benefits from a restricted set of vocabulary. The art tends to be ok to bad and the stories are seldom worth reading more than once. That said, here are resources that were helpful to us in the early stages. It's not exhaustive, it's what we liked most from what was available to us via the library and recommendations from other moms. If you've come across some resources that have been helpful, please leave a comment!

1) Bob books

We got these used from another family, and it kicked things off for our oldest. I see them often at Costco. The vocabularly is well controlled in each book providing focus and practice on particular sounds.

2) Starfall.com 

Another resource we learned about from others. Our oldest really liked the site and picked up the lessons quickly. It's got a 90s website vibe to it, but most of the site is free. So free and engaging, can't really beat that.

3) Mo Willems

Of Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus fame, Mo Willems's early readers from Cat the Cat to Gerald and Piggie have a remarkable ability to convey a lot with a very small, repetitive vocabulary. Gerald and Piggie, in particular, get caught up in antics that are quite entertaining and have a relationship reminiscent of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street.

4) Dr. Suess

It's easy to forget that these well-loved classics are also early reader books. They also do a lot with a small, repetitive vocabulary while adding elements of rhythm and rhyme which provides a lot of practice for the early reader but they are usually much longer than Mo Willems' books. Requires some stamina to make it all the way through.

5) Jon Scieszka's Trucktown

Zany characters with fun illustrations, these tend to be very early reader books and have been fun for both our reader and younger not-yet-a-reader. Granted, our not-yet-a-reader is a bit truck obsessed.

6) Olivia (Ready-to-Read Series)

It turns out that Olivia is a Nickelodeon character in a television show of the same name. I didn't know this when we came across her. These early readers have nice illustrations and more interesting stories than most.

In the details that matter

I got to see a college friend's mom today. I first met her something like 15 years ago. She asked how my family was doing. What do you say to that? It's been crazy, intense, and filled with gems of goodness.

There's my dad's cancer thing. Currently, looking less and less like cancer. But along the way, tremendous support from his church and medical professionals at many institutions.

And by the way, my mom was the first one we contacted about helping us after my surgery. THANK GOD she turned us down because of their previously planned trip for a 2 month stay in Malaysia. The week before the Malaysia trip is when all this crazy cancer stuff hit the roof. The two of them have been such a team wading through a 100+ medical articles to figure out what questions to be asking regarding my dad's test results.

There's my shoulder surgery. Unexpectedly, my mother in law came instead of my father in law and stayed 2 full weeks instead of a week after my surgery. A huge help in many ways especially since it took me most of 2 weeks to get back on my feet. Church folk, neighbors and even a lady from the gym have been delivering meals. Some single ladies from our church small group have been coming in the evenings before N gets home from work to help me feed the kids and bathe them. Also huge.

And Sunday, my nephew unexpectedly arrived in the world 8 weeks early yet healthy. My brother's family life has been turned upside down but in the details that matter, they are doing great. Baby CJ is breathing on his own, doing well and my sister in law is also fine. Again, wonderful help from their church friends providing meals and helping with my 2 year old neice.

Jesus talks about coming to earth so that we could have life abundantly. When I'm running late while sweating in the summer-that-won't-end while trying to buckle my kids in their carseats with just one working arm, I'm not feeling the abundance of life. I want the thermostat to turn down, I want my kids to cooperate so I can get the car going and the AC running.  

But when I think about life, how my family is alive and healthy, I am so grateful. I count these moments of alive-ness where my kids pick up every stick and twig and feather, where my niece meets her brother in his isolette, where my dad waves to us over skype, and I collect them in overflowing abundance because in the details that matter, we have been graced with abundant life.

Random thoughts post surgery

It is hard to wash one hand; easy to rinse, hard to lather.

One armed ponytails, hard; headbands-type things, easy.

Bras can be optional, but I feel more me wearing them.

It may feel awkward to be assertive with medical people, but worth it.

There are people who actually have only one arm who live full, independent lives. This inspires me to be creative. Like using scissors to "chop" food.

Know when to hold them and when to fold them. Sometimes it's good to stop the creativity and ask for help. Hanging creased trousers is tricky one armed and not blazingly urgent.

How other people solve their problems might not be anything like how you solve yours. I read recommendations to get a bath poof on a stick. I find my trusty bar of soap works just fine. The only thing I can't soap is my good arm itself and that's true w or w/o the poof on a stick.

Grace makes all the difference. Knowing Jesus delights in me whether I am in a good mood or foul, whether I am productive or not allows me to be kind to myself and to receive the kindness of others.

Asking for help is an important skill, and it can be hard. Receiving help well can be lifegiving for both sides of the "transaction".

Snapshot

One of those wish-I-had-a-camera moments:

My sweet daughter stretched out like banana across the recliner eschewing breakfast to read a book.

There are many things I don't "get" about her, but I get this and I love it for her.

Pulling it together

Well, I have to say that I am very thankful for my husband and friends who have been a great help and encouragement as I figure stuff out.

Logistics were wrapped up by the end of Wednesday. Instead of my father-in-law coming to help after my surgery my mother-in-law will be coming.

So the "Who is going to take care of the kids while I'm in surgery?" question fizzled out quickly, but it's a different thing getting ready for a father-in-law than a mother-in-law. So it took me another day or two to get myself ready for that notion.

As far as my dad being sick, that is its own very weird situation. For all intents and purposes, my dad feels like a really healthy guy, no different from last week. But preliminary tests say he's got a rare cancer. At this point, if he feels sick it's going to be because of the chemo. There's one more round of tests this week and then my parents get to survey their options and choose their next steps.

A sustaining idea in this time has been what Brennan Manning calls the "present risenness" of Jesus. Present meaning both now and near and risenness meaning having defeated death and fully alive. So while I was feeling crushed by stress, I had this beckoning sense that Jesus was near and trying to push through the anxiety. I could see light creeping around the edges of the folds of darkness. This idea that the loving creator of the universe stands near me with such power that death was broken has been a lifeline of hope when the worst of myself cries out to be believed.

Things fall apart

Wednesday, I think it was, was a very hard day.

Got an email from my mom that my dad might be sick with a scary disease. More testing needed. Ok. I don't know if I even prayed about it.

We went about our morning. Took the kids to the park really early because it's been a triple digit week. Coming home, I was relaxing into the feeling that we were on course for my shoulder surgery next Thursday. I had had a lot of anxiety about whether my family would be ok without me and I was easing into the notion that Jesus was going to take care of us. I was ticking off a list of a few things I needed to arrange before my father-in-law arrived to help us with childcare immediately after the surgery. But I was really looking forward to his coming.

My kids and I did fun stuff together, and I fed us an early lunch.

At a few minutes past noon, my father-in-law called which was surprising in and of itself. But more surprising was that HE needed surgery and wouldn't be able to come next week. WHOA, WHOA, WHAT??!!

In a semi-panic, I starting thinking about who could come instead, what we could do instead. In the course of that thought I'd ask a couple of my aunts who are "retired" whether they could come. The first aunt I called is on my dad's side, so I mentioned he might be sick, but what I really wanted was for her to come help me out. She's a doc and whatever I said to her about what might be happening with my dad didn't make sense. So I just forwarded the email I got about it.

She called back. I hadn't understood the email. The more testing wasn't about whether my dad was sick with a scary disease, it was to pinpoint the extent of the disease. WHOA, WHOA, WHAT??!!

The rest of the day was a mess. A giant pile of stinking mess.