Joy Joy Joy Joy

As the title of this post suggests, a profound event occurred in the life of our family on Friday, November 21st. Myles took his first poop on the potty. The shock of this unexpected event and the wave of joy that overtook us as we celebrated with smarties was such that Seth wanted to take a photo of the proof and post it on the blog. Moments later we came to our senses and realized that this mylestone may not, in fact, be as significant in the lives of our readership as it is in ours. Needless to say, it all may have been just a fluke. Regardless, positive reinforcement followed the blessed event, including a congratulatory call with Grandma Voss. Go Myles!!

In other news, we had a really good weekend together. On Friday night I went out with some friends to the Thirsty Monk for some beer and a fancy, fine cheese plate. On Saturday we had the most delicious waffles made by Seth, and Seth and Myles went to see the holiday parade with the Weisner bunch while I went to a board retreat. On Saturday night, a friend watched Myles while Seth and I went to see Changeling. While perhaps not the best movie selection for a date (i.e. a movie all about a mother losing her child, making me think about my own child a little too much for a date), it was a gift to be together, out on the town, having a good time. This morning we went for a family run with Myles in the jog stroller (I'll admit it--I behaved terribly and complained when the going got rough), then did some Christmas shopping, ate at a new neighborhood joint that was fabulous (tater tots, need I say more?), then went to a pumpkin party at Michelle's house where we feasted on pumpkin chili, pumpkin pasta, pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, and pumpkin beer. We had some quality family time and enjoyed our lovely town...and then of course I had some mixed feelings about the whole thing.

By habit, the Christmas spirit will wash over me and my thoughts will turn to all the things I love about the holiday season. Then I quickly recall that my dad will not be a part of it all this year. I remember last year's Thanksgiving when he drove without complaint up to Michigan with my mom, Seth, Myles and I, even though he was in the throes of chemo side effects. I remember it vaguely occurred to me once on Christmas that it might be my last Christmas with my dad, then I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind as pessimistic and unlikely. Would it have been different if I had known?

I know my dad would want me to count my blessings this Thanksgiving, like every Thanksgiving, but I guess I just haven't figured out how to honor his memory and acknowledge my grief in this complicated season, amidst the thousand messages we receive every day about the joy of the season. Christmas is, at its heart, about God bringing new life into the world in a cold, inhospitable season. Advent is about anticipating God doing a new thing in our lives if we wait.

Here's what Annie Dillard says about this time:

"Carvin's Cove path have dried, dropped, and blown; the acorn itself is shrunk and sere. But the sheath of the stem holds water and the white root still delicately sucks, porous and permeable, mute. The death of the self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. It is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. It is merely the slow cessation of the will's spirits and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with a stilled tongue. The waiting itself is the thing."

I think I'll reflect more on this season as lived through the veil of grief in other posts. (This one was originally to be about more mundane things, if you recall). But I wanted to mention it here, because it's become a part of my daily grind. Untangling the spirit of this season from the raw nerve of grief; not feeling guilty if I embrace the season's joy for a day or an hour; waking up every morning to the reality that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and life will never be the same. It's a confusing time. But I'm grateful we had a good weekend. And I hope you did too.

Thank You Richmond

Thank you Richmond for allowing me to run down your tree lined streets and along your river. Thank you for the giant monuments of Civil War heroes and colorful brick row houses that marked my way up and down your boulevards and in and out of your neighborhoods. Thank you Richmond for the warm flat shot of coca cola at mile 22, for the cold wet face clothes at mile 24, for the Port-a-John that shone like a golden pyramid at mile 18. Thank you for humbling me at mile 16 when my feet caught fire and my legs crystalized into dead weight. Thank you for reminding me that marathons level the playing field for runners of all abilities and that my speed and ego won't help me when my energy's all gone. Thank you for emptying out your rain and lightening hours before the 8 am start and letting the sun break through the clouds as I reached the half-way mark. Thank you for the beer stand at mile 20 and for the free shot of Jim Bean at mile 21. Although I gagged at the thought of gulping down these things, I thank the caring men and women who were looking out for the most desperate of runners. Thank you Richmond for hosting my mom, dad, brothers , my brothers spouses, Mandy, Myles, and Adam and James who came to watch me pound the pavement for 3 hours and 31 minutes. Thank you Megan for having pity on me and jogging in the last half mile. Thank you Richmond for sharing a piece of sidewalk with me at the end of my not-so-gallant finish. Only you knew that I was just resting when the three police men came over to start CPR.

And lastly, thank you Bob for being there with me every step of the way. This one was for you.

The Grieving Person's Bill of Rights

1. You have the right to experience your own unique grief.
2. You have the right to talk about your grief.
3. You have the right to feel a multitude of emotions.
4. You have the right to be tolerant of your physical and emotional limits.
5. You have the right to experience "grief attacks."
6. You have the right to make use of ritual.
7. You have the right to embrace your spirituality.
8. You have the right to search for meaning.
9. You have the right to treasure your memories.
10. You have the right to move toward your grief and heal.
11. You have the right to self medicate with dark chocolate. (Okay, I added this last one)

Can you tell I went to therapy this week? I tell you what, as a pastor I learned that there are a great many people in our lives who are grieving something precious. It's not always the loss of a loved one, though it can be. As human beings, there's a lot of loss and grief in our lives. Change is constant, and even celebratory change means we have to let go of something old that we may have treasured and loved. So to any of you who might be grieving anything, read through this bill of rights and remember that you have the right to make space in your life to do these things.

Today, I am thinking more about my dad because Myles has been sick with a stomach bug all day, relentlessly, and I have been playing the role of the worried-try-to-remain-calm care giver. I remember how we cared for my dad in his final weeks, and I think about the many occasions in which he cared for me when I was little and sick like Myles.

Our plan was to hit the road for Richmond tomorrow, but that's looking less likely tonight. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Say a prayer for Myles!

Composting out the Wazoo...

Mylestones: In addition to an explosion of words, which all kind of sound the same but can be distinguished one from another by his loving parents (more, hi, bye, car, truck, doggie, ball, sorry, mama, oh-ba-ma, etc.), Myles has become an accomplished piano player. We're so proud!

Compost: For several years, I've wanted to compost. Trouble is, all the compost bins cost an arm and a leg. It's hard to justify spending over $100 for something that you're going to put organic waste into. It's just a plastic bin, after all! So everytime I pushed Seth to get the compost bin, he resisted and I relented. Finally, my mom showed me a magazine that suggested the following: buy a cheap plastic garbage bin, dig a huge hole for it in your yard, drill holes in the garbage can for worms to get in, plop it in the hole, put the top on it, and voila! A perfect spot for composting. We have finally completed all of the above, and began with composting our pumpkins, along with some leaves, and now all our kitchen scraps. I know we're quite behind the times in green Asheville, but better late than never. We are especially looking forward to some good quality stuff once it has all mixed and disintegrated and worms have eaten it and pooped it back out...then we can spread it on our garden, and in our front yard. Our soil quality leaves much to be desired, so it will do all of our plants some good.

This weekend, we travel to Richmond, VA to see Seth's family and cheer him on as he runs his second marathon. Go Seth! He's in pretty excellent shape, and we are hoping that all goes well on Saturday morning. It will also be the first time that Myles and I have seen Seth's family since his brother's wedding in May, so it will be good to catch up and hang out. We will be staying at Greg's new house (Seth's oldest brother), but also hope to be able to check out Jon (Seth's middle brother) and Brian's place, who also live in Richmond.

Headed up to watch an episode of the office, so signing off...

Yes, He Can!!

Tuesday was an excellent day to be an American. Seth and I had voted early, and I took to the road on Tuesday morning, knocking on 28 doors before lunch to help turn out the vote. Clearly, my efforts were not solitary. This truly felt like the election of my generation. Our moment, when all things were possible and the power of our democracy was demonstrated not by military might "spreading democracy abroad," but by exercising our moral obligation to vote...as Obama said, "rejecting the myth of our generation's apathy," and translating our hope for a more perfect union into action.

I have often lamented the fact that I did not live in the days of MLK and JFK...I felt like a wanna-be freedom fighter born into a more boring time, when not much was asked of me in the way of sacrifice in the service of justice. But on Tuesday, I cried in the voting booth because I truly believe that change is coming to America and the world. I truly believe that we are on the cusp of a renaissance of thought, creativity, and leadership, the dawn of a new politics of the common good. Not only have we elected the first Black President, he's also brilliant, and cares very much for the poor. That's why even as I was celebrating in the privacy of my home (with champagne in front of our computer), jubilation was breaking out in cities all over the nation. Even in the farthest corners of the world people of color and the poor were dancing and singing and giving thanks that the leader of the free world identifies with them; has experienced life outside of the privileged borders of the United States; has the blood of a continent rich in culture and resources, but burdened by oppression running through his veins; knew what it was like to be raised by a working class single mom.

Ella Baker once said that no leader is capable of doing for us what we will not do for ourselves, and as much as I celebrate the dignity and incredible gifts of Barack Obama, I also revel in this election because of what it says about us as a people and a nation. I know there is much work ahead, that we've just elected one man to the highest office in the nation. It's a chance for change, a symbol of change more than change itself, but this week I'm hopeful that (as he said) the true genius of America is that, yes, we can change. I hope that his leadership will call on the better angels within each of us, so that we will live out of the best of ourselves.

I know we are not all celebrating this turn of events. 46% of the nation voted for John McCain and Sara Palin, and they must be disappointed with the outcome, and perhaps bewildered by the outpouring that has followed in recent days. But still, I had to share my thoughts, because this is truly a new day for our nation, and I am thrilled that my son will grow up under the leadership of President Barack Obama. Maybe there's hope that even those of us who disagree can do so respectfully and intelligently.