Here are some conversations I have had with Esther recently:
Esther and I make a weekly visit to an assisted living center near us, which is named Sunrise. On our last trip back from our new hometown, we stayed in a motel midway. Esther woke up very early in the morning (not unusual for her when she's off her routine), so in order to let Tim get his sleep out I took her on over to breakfast. The TV in the breakfast room was on, and as the program moved towards a commercial break, the news anchor announced something like, "This is 9 News at Sunrise." Esther looked around and protested, "We're not at Sunrise! We're at a motel!"
Esther is getting as much enjoyment from plans for the new house as we are. One day she asked if we could have a play structure in our back yard. I answered that we would have to figure out whether we had enough space and how much money one would cost. She volunteered, "I could help! I have a piggy bank!" (Actually she called it a monkey pig, but I figured out what she meant--there is a Curious George episode about a piggy bank, hence the monkey.)
She sat down on my bare leg one day when I hadn't shaved recently and complained, "Your spines are prickling me."
We were watching a downpour out the window one day, and Esther asked where all the water was coming from. I explained that the clouds got full of water and then it had to fall down. She giggled, "Yeah, the clouds are wetting!" (Wetting is our family term for urinating--she thought clouds wetting was pretty funny.)
Sadly, I don't remember the context for this one anymore. I think we might have been watching someone interacting with their dog. Esther said seriously, "I don't have a dog. Or a baby." (Sometimes I wonder if she understands the distinction between babies and pets--any time she sees a baby she eagerly asks, "May I pet it?")
One day on our way home from the library, there was a woman standing on the sidewalk outside of our apartment complex talking loudly and with great feeling to the air around her. As we passed, I heard her say, "My daughter is dead and [something I didn't catch] killed her...". I didn't know how to respond, so I ignored her, but I didn't feel good about that either, and Esther either caught my discomfort or felt some of her own, because she clearly was unnerved by the woman. As we got farther away from her, Esther asked, "Why was that woman so angry?" I didn't want to introduce the concept of family members dying, so I told Esther just that something really sad had happened to the woman, and sometimes when people have really sad feelings they use angry words because they think it makes them feel better. Esther answered, "When I feel sad I cry, and then I feel better." I thought that was quite an insight for a three-year-old, especially since I distinctly remember realizing that myself in my late teens! Or maybe I did know it when I was Esther's age and had forgotten in the interim.
Back when we first knew we were going to move I got Esther some "moving day treats" (chocolate candies) that she could eat one of every day to count down the days until our move. She has mostly lost interest in them recently, so I had to remove several to maintain the correct number in the container. Having just watched me fill a bag with stuff to give away, Esther fixed me with a stern eye and said, "Don't even think about getting rid of those!"
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
One week to go!
Now there is only one week to go until we move out! I'm beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel, but there is still a lot of packing to do. Esther LOVED her gymnastics class this week, and I think we will invest in sending her again next week. It just makes it so much less stressful to pack when I have chunks of uninterrupted time to do it in. And I'm glad that she's having fun! She was a little disappointed to learn that tomorrow is Saturday and there won't be any gymnastics class. But I'm sure she'll have fun with Daddy. Last week they went scooting in a park and played in the river there for a long time; tomorrow is going to be too hot for outdoor activity to be comfortable, but they will find something to do that is fun and that doesn't involve being in the house. I went with Tim to pick Esther up today, and her teacher was commenting at how well she does on the parallel bars, and how she can almost do it by herself. I'm not exactly sure what "it" is that she can almost do by herself, but I know she has a lot of upper body strength. She can almost do a pull-up already, which is something I don't think I've been able to do my entire life! Or maybe I did it once, sort of. I remember trying, but I was pretty pathetic!
Unfortunately, although our move-out date is fixed, it looks like it will be a while before we can move IN. Mortgage paperwork is starting to feel like adoption paperwork: there's always something that takes longer than you project, or just plain goes wrong! Not being local, we've been mailing stuff back and forth with our lender. So first UPS didn't have our apartment number, which cost us a couple of days receiving the papers we needed to sign. We finally got them on Monday, signed everything that night, and returned it by express mail on Tuesday morning. Our lender (or someone in his office) received the paperwork Thursday morning, and this morning he contacted us to say that he didn't see the personal check that he needed to pay for the appraisal. Tim remembered that the clerk at the post office had switched the papers into a new envelope when he mailed them on Tuesday, and sure enough, we found the check still sitting in the old envelope along with his receipt. So we conferred over the phone, and ended the conversation with Tim thinking I had agreed to go to the post office with Esther and mail it this afternoon, and me thinking that he didn't want me to. It will get mailed tomorrow morning. Sigh. So the appraisal won't even be ordered until next week. We had already figured we wouldn't make our target closing date of August 2nd, but as Tim put it, this latest development pretty much put the nails in the coffin. The moving company can store our stuff for up to a month at no cost, and we have had multiple offers of places to stay in the meantime, so we're not in dire straits, but it would be nice to know when we will get to actually start living in our new hometown!
Unfortunately, although our move-out date is fixed, it looks like it will be a while before we can move IN. Mortgage paperwork is starting to feel like adoption paperwork: there's always something that takes longer than you project, or just plain goes wrong! Not being local, we've been mailing stuff back and forth with our lender. So first UPS didn't have our apartment number, which cost us a couple of days receiving the papers we needed to sign. We finally got them on Monday, signed everything that night, and returned it by express mail on Tuesday morning. Our lender (or someone in his office) received the paperwork Thursday morning, and this morning he contacted us to say that he didn't see the personal check that he needed to pay for the appraisal. Tim remembered that the clerk at the post office had switched the papers into a new envelope when he mailed them on Tuesday, and sure enough, we found the check still sitting in the old envelope along with his receipt. So we conferred over the phone, and ended the conversation with Tim thinking I had agreed to go to the post office with Esther and mail it this afternoon, and me thinking that he didn't want me to. It will get mailed tomorrow morning. Sigh. So the appraisal won't even be ordered until next week. We had already figured we wouldn't make our target closing date of August 2nd, but as Tim put it, this latest development pretty much put the nails in the coffin. The moving company can store our stuff for up to a month at no cost, and we have had multiple offers of places to stay in the meantime, so we're not in dire straits, but it would be nice to know when we will get to actually start living in our new hometown!
missing piece
This doesn't have anything to do with Esther. No, that's not quite right. It doesn't describe Esther, or any of her activities. But it does affect her. And while the experience I'm about to relate is so particular to me as to sound bizarre, in another way it is nearly universal.
To give a bit of background, Tim and I have spent the last year participating in a prayer training at church. Specifically, this kind of prayer is called theophostic prayer (theophostic means God-light). I like to picture theophostic prayer as resting on two theoretical pillars. Once is the psychological theory, I think a fairly standard one, that the cause of our emotional distress in a current situation often has less to do about the details of the situation (my husband asked me what I'd been doing all day) than it does with our belief about the situation (he thinks I'm failing to accomplish what I should), which in turn may have its roots in a conclusion we drew about ourselves in some earlier, formative experience (my mother "fixed" a picture that I had worked hard to draw and been proud of, and I felt like I couldn't do anything right). (The above example, by the way, is not personal!) The other theoretical pillar is the idea that, if we can identify and confess to God the false belief that is causing us pain, God is in some mysterious way able to replace that belief experientially with God's truth. In some cases we may know very well that the false belief is false, and know what the truth is, but there is something different about experiencing that truth as it is communicated by God.
We are being trained to facilitate theophostic prayer for other people, but as an important part of our training (and also, now that we have learned how to do it, an important part of our own spiritual development), we have also been receiving as much theophostic prayer as we can for ourselves. On Monday night I got the chance to have one of the other trainees facilitate for me. I chose to focus on the anxiety I feel about driving, and found myself revisiting a memory from when I was in elementary school and my family used to take family bike rides. Between our village and the next village over (Yakadee, for those with enough geographic background to picture it) there is a particularly long and steep hill, with a one-lane bridge at the bottom. On one ride, my dad was ahead somewhere (I think already across the bridge), my mom had reached the bottom of the hill and was standing just before the bridge, and I was just starting down the hill. The bike I rode at the time had pedal brakes, so that you pedaled backwards in order to brake. I got up a little more speed than I could confidently control, so I pedaled backwards. Nothing happened. I looked at my mom standing between me and the bridge with her back turned. I wanted to scream to warn her that I was coming, but nothing came out of my throat. And for a split second I really believed I was going to kill her. I wouldn't be able to stop, I would come careening down the hill with nowhere to go but the bridge, she would still be standing with her back turned, oblivious to the danger, and I would kill her. And it would all be my fault because I didn't know how to brake, or scream, or do anything to protect her. A second after that I turned my bike into the ditch by the side of the road and averted the catastrophe, and a few minutes after that my dad checked my bike out and showed me how to push backwards harder and more than once if the brake didn't catch the first time. But the panic and shame of that first split second lived on in my subconscious. Working my way back into the memory on Monday night, I felt like I was defective, missing some crucial piece that I should have had. As I confessed that out loud, and as the person who was facilitating for me invited the Holy Spirit to bring truth into my memory, I gradually began to see myself as the bicycle I had been riding in that event. At first, the bicycle was definitely missing a piece. But as the picture continued to emerge, I saw that Jesus was riding the bicycle/me, and it/I was working just fine for him. I looked for the missing piece to see if he had fixed it, but I couldn't tell anymore if there was a piece missing or not. Amazingly, it had ceased to matter. Either Jesus had fixed the missing piece or he was working around it, but the outcome was the same: he was riding the bike, and it was responding perfectly.
As that truth sunk in, I thought of how much it would mean for it to feel true in every part of my life. Because there are places where I really am missing something--where, for that matter, all of us are missing something (I told you it was a universal experience!). I come up short, as a parent, as a teacher, as a friend, as whatever. And even knowing that shortcomings are part of the human condition, I anxiously measure the size of each shortcoming, trying to judge whether or not I should be condemned for it. But what a relief if I could leave off judging and measuring, trusting that the outcome of a situation doesn't depend on my capacities, but on Jesus.
Normally I don't talk much about my theophostic prayer experiences, even to Tim. They're very precious, but so personal that afterwards it seems hard to put them into proper language. But I left on Monday night feeling strongly that this particular one was meant to be shared. So I'm not sure who I'm writing this for, but if it blesses you, and honors God, I'm glad!
To give a bit of background, Tim and I have spent the last year participating in a prayer training at church. Specifically, this kind of prayer is called theophostic prayer (theophostic means God-light). I like to picture theophostic prayer as resting on two theoretical pillars. Once is the psychological theory, I think a fairly standard one, that the cause of our emotional distress in a current situation often has less to do about the details of the situation (my husband asked me what I'd been doing all day) than it does with our belief about the situation (he thinks I'm failing to accomplish what I should), which in turn may have its roots in a conclusion we drew about ourselves in some earlier, formative experience (my mother "fixed" a picture that I had worked hard to draw and been proud of, and I felt like I couldn't do anything right). (The above example, by the way, is not personal!) The other theoretical pillar is the idea that, if we can identify and confess to God the false belief that is causing us pain, God is in some mysterious way able to replace that belief experientially with God's truth. In some cases we may know very well that the false belief is false, and know what the truth is, but there is something different about experiencing that truth as it is communicated by God.
We are being trained to facilitate theophostic prayer for other people, but as an important part of our training (and also, now that we have learned how to do it, an important part of our own spiritual development), we have also been receiving as much theophostic prayer as we can for ourselves. On Monday night I got the chance to have one of the other trainees facilitate for me. I chose to focus on the anxiety I feel about driving, and found myself revisiting a memory from when I was in elementary school and my family used to take family bike rides. Between our village and the next village over (Yakadee, for those with enough geographic background to picture it) there is a particularly long and steep hill, with a one-lane bridge at the bottom. On one ride, my dad was ahead somewhere (I think already across the bridge), my mom had reached the bottom of the hill and was standing just before the bridge, and I was just starting down the hill. The bike I rode at the time had pedal brakes, so that you pedaled backwards in order to brake. I got up a little more speed than I could confidently control, so I pedaled backwards. Nothing happened. I looked at my mom standing between me and the bridge with her back turned. I wanted to scream to warn her that I was coming, but nothing came out of my throat. And for a split second I really believed I was going to kill her. I wouldn't be able to stop, I would come careening down the hill with nowhere to go but the bridge, she would still be standing with her back turned, oblivious to the danger, and I would kill her. And it would all be my fault because I didn't know how to brake, or scream, or do anything to protect her. A second after that I turned my bike into the ditch by the side of the road and averted the catastrophe, and a few minutes after that my dad checked my bike out and showed me how to push backwards harder and more than once if the brake didn't catch the first time. But the panic and shame of that first split second lived on in my subconscious. Working my way back into the memory on Monday night, I felt like I was defective, missing some crucial piece that I should have had. As I confessed that out loud, and as the person who was facilitating for me invited the Holy Spirit to bring truth into my memory, I gradually began to see myself as the bicycle I had been riding in that event. At first, the bicycle was definitely missing a piece. But as the picture continued to emerge, I saw that Jesus was riding the bicycle/me, and it/I was working just fine for him. I looked for the missing piece to see if he had fixed it, but I couldn't tell anymore if there was a piece missing or not. Amazingly, it had ceased to matter. Either Jesus had fixed the missing piece or he was working around it, but the outcome was the same: he was riding the bike, and it was responding perfectly.
As that truth sunk in, I thought of how much it would mean for it to feel true in every part of my life. Because there are places where I really am missing something--where, for that matter, all of us are missing something (I told you it was a universal experience!). I come up short, as a parent, as a teacher, as a friend, as whatever. And even knowing that shortcomings are part of the human condition, I anxiously measure the size of each shortcoming, trying to judge whether or not I should be condemned for it. But what a relief if I could leave off judging and measuring, trusting that the outcome of a situation doesn't depend on my capacities, but on Jesus.
Normally I don't talk much about my theophostic prayer experiences, even to Tim. They're very precious, but so personal that afterwards it seems hard to put them into proper language. But I left on Monday night feeling strongly that this particular one was meant to be shared. So I'm not sure who I'm writing this for, but if it blesses you, and honors God, I'm glad!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Just two weeks
I have just two weeks to get everything packed up before movers come to load it all. AAAAAUGH! Don't worry, I have already started--but the amount already packed seems inconsequential compared to the amount yet to go. Yesterday I was feeling really discouraged because despite my best efforts I made no headway on packing and didn't even get to interact with Esther as much as she needed to feel attended to. Then today I got a lot done, and took Esther outside for over an hour, and took her swimming. I guess I have more time in my day when I don't have to wash my hair, go grocery shopping, do laundry, or fix a big dinner. It's unfortunate for packing progress that on most days I have to do at least one of those things! Tomorrow I'm hoping Tim and Esther can have a fun Daddy-daughter outing and I can get another gulp of packing out of the way. Next week we have her enrolled in gymnastics camp in the morning, which should help a lot. But boy, I'll be happy when this move is over with!
Tonight was our last night to attend our Chinese fellowship. We were prayed for, and took a group photo, and said lots of goodbyes, and didn't get home until nearly 11. It still doesn't seem real that we're actually leaving. In just two weeks!
Tonight was our last night to attend our Chinese fellowship. We were prayed for, and took a group photo, and said lots of goodbyes, and didn't get home until nearly 11. It still doesn't seem real that we're actually leaving. In just two weeks!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
house pictures
This post isn't exactly about Esther, but it seems like it will be the easiest way to share pictures of our (hopefully!) new house with some folks. Sorry if this is your second go-round with these photos!
The first four interior pictures are of the upstairs of the house; the room with the faux wood paneling is in the basement. The dining room furniture and the furniture in the bedroom picture are going to be ours as well! Rather than trying to move them out, the buyer has offered to sell them to us for a very good price (significantly less than what they are worth, I suspect), and we happily agreed. Esther's favorite feature of the house is the spiral staircase in the back. We are wondering if we're going to have to remove it--the last time we were there, I had to get after her for trying to jump down the stairs! I think the last picture gives a pretty good idea of the steepness of the back yard. Fortunately, the land right behind the house is relatively flat, so I don't think we have to worry about sliding down the hill.
The first four interior pictures are of the upstairs of the house; the room with the faux wood paneling is in the basement. The dining room furniture and the furniture in the bedroom picture are going to be ours as well! Rather than trying to move them out, the buyer has offered to sell them to us for a very good price (significantly less than what they are worth, I suspect), and we happily agreed. Esther's favorite feature of the house is the spiral staircase in the back. We are wondering if we're going to have to remove it--the last time we were there, I had to get after her for trying to jump down the stairs! I think the last picture gives a pretty good idea of the steepness of the back yard. Fortunately, the land right behind the house is relatively flat, so I don't think we have to worry about sliding down the hill.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Esther's third birthday
Now that we have finally found the camera which we used to photograph Esther's third birthday, it's time for a post! (The camera turned up inside a kitchen cupboard, in a plastic bag full of unopened water bottles and soda cans left over from the birthday lunch.)
One of the advantages of a summer birthday is that there are so many fun activities to do outside this time of year! And Esther loves outdoor play like nothing else. So this year we held her birthday at a splash park. We invited a few of her little friends who were in town, along with their families, to come play and have lunch with us. We lucked out on the weather--it was just hot enough that the cold water felt good, but not so hot that we were miserable out of the water. And Esther (as well as the other kids) had a fabulous time getting wet!
After some playing, we enjoyed lunch. Tim and I had gotten back unexpectedly late from our new hometown the night before, so we didn't get to our food shopping until the morning of the party, and I ended up spending part of the party out in the parking lot slicing bread and cutting watermelon on the hood of our car (I wasn't sure what the park's policy was on bringing large knives into the children's play area...). But in the end everyone got fed and the food was good.
Then it was time for cake! The evening before the party, as I was in the throes of preparing to make the cake, Esther requested a monster shape. Now, I have been doing special-request family birthday cakes (including a spider and a B-17 bomber) since before I was a teenager, but with all I was trying to accomplish before the party, I just didn't feel up to creating a monster on short notice. So I asked Esther if a butterfly (my original plan) would be okay, and she acquiesced. It turned out cute, and she enjoyed helping put on sprinkles. She also enjoyed eating the leftover icing. The picture below is of her birthday breakfast--she has a spoon for oatmeal in one hand, and a spoon for icing in the other. (The frying pan I think was from dinner the night before--we were still all at sixes and sevens after getting back from our trip.)
We had a little trouble actually lighting the candles on the cake due to the wind coming in off the jets of water. Then Esther had some trouble getting all three of them blown out. She finally asked me to help. It was an honor to share her special day with her, and we sure feel blessed to get to share all of her growing up. What a treasure!
One of the advantages of a summer birthday is that there are so many fun activities to do outside this time of year! And Esther loves outdoor play like nothing else. So this year we held her birthday at a splash park. We invited a few of her little friends who were in town, along with their families, to come play and have lunch with us. We lucked out on the weather--it was just hot enough that the cold water felt good, but not so hot that we were miserable out of the water. And Esther (as well as the other kids) had a fabulous time getting wet!
After some playing, we enjoyed lunch. Tim and I had gotten back unexpectedly late from our new hometown the night before, so we didn't get to our food shopping until the morning of the party, and I ended up spending part of the party out in the parking lot slicing bread and cutting watermelon on the hood of our car (I wasn't sure what the park's policy was on bringing large knives into the children's play area...). But in the end everyone got fed and the food was good.
Then it was time for cake! The evening before the party, as I was in the throes of preparing to make the cake, Esther requested a monster shape. Now, I have been doing special-request family birthday cakes (including a spider and a B-17 bomber) since before I was a teenager, but with all I was trying to accomplish before the party, I just didn't feel up to creating a monster on short notice. So I asked Esther if a butterfly (my original plan) would be okay, and she acquiesced. It turned out cute, and she enjoyed helping put on sprinkles. She also enjoyed eating the leftover icing. The picture below is of her birthday breakfast--she has a spoon for oatmeal in one hand, and a spoon for icing in the other. (The frying pan I think was from dinner the night before--we were still all at sixes and sevens after getting back from our trip.)
We had a little trouble actually lighting the candles on the cake due to the wind coming in off the jets of water. Then Esther had some trouble getting all three of them blown out. She finally asked me to help. It was an honor to share her special day with her, and we sure feel blessed to get to share all of her growing up. What a treasure!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
excuses
I have a lot to catch up on--like Esther's third birthday!--but right now I'm tired after a busy day, so I'll just share a few of Esther's creative excuses for not doing what she has been asked to do.
Daddy: Let go of that book!
Esther (in a conciliatory tone, without moving her hand): I'm just holding it.
Mommy (after Esther poked the keys on the computer keyboard and changed the screen): Esther! You know you're not supposed to touch the keyboard when it's not your program!
Esther: My elbow just did it [as opposed, presumably, to she herself--she also has tried to see if she can get away with pushing buttons with a toy].
Mommy: Esther, come put your pajamas on.
Esther: I'm busy spitting on my leg. [And she was! Don't ask me why...]
Daddy: Let go of that book!
Esther (in a conciliatory tone, without moving her hand): I'm just holding it.
Mommy (after Esther poked the keys on the computer keyboard and changed the screen): Esther! You know you're not supposed to touch the keyboard when it's not your program!
Esther: My elbow just did it [as opposed, presumably, to she herself--she also has tried to see if she can get away with pushing buttons with a toy].
Mommy: Esther, come put your pajamas on.
Esther: I'm busy spitting on my leg. [And she was! Don't ask me why...]