serious people

I was wondering last week as I tried not to pee my pants laughing, how in the world all of my dance teachers were such serious people. I mean, watching extremely coordinated people struggle through space and movement is one of the funniest things ever! I giggle daily during the baby classes because they are just so cute and we work so hard to help teach them to focus and take themselves seriously and then when it actually takes root and happens it's just so wonderfully cute I have to laugh. I mean there is almost nothing more giggle worthy than a 6 year old completely poised and focused looking like a 20 year old. It's the same giggle impulse that makes me want to buy clip on ties for my nephews :)
Then when I see the near misses and hands flicking other people's feet out of the way in the big girl classes I just die! How in the world did my teachers always maintain such straight faces??? I love my job! I love my students! I love that in the sweatiest, hardest working moments there are still reasons to laugh. :)

critical

so, I tend to be a bit critical, in general. Now this is a horrible attribute somewhat buffered by the fact that I'm even more critical of myself than I am of others. None the less, this year I have been strongly convicted of my need to truly love those around me. Love those Christ saw worthy of His life and death and blood. And I had a thought....

I adore Olivia. I don't think I knew what healthy pride was until I was a mom. I see all of her flaws crystal clear and have to deal with them regularly but I still LOVE and am so proud of my baby girl. I sometimes get to visit with people, good friends, family, and "family" who don't see her very often and I'm always a little nervous. What if they don't adore her like I do? What if they can't see in her all I see? What if her bad day overshadows the brilliance and radiance that I know of her. It has happened before; the look of disinterest. Seen one toddler seen 'em all in a way. And I wonder if the feeling of personal let down and rejection I feel personally for their disinterest towards her is anything a kin to what Christ feels when I judge or simply overlook one of His children. He is a jealous God we are told, and I imagine that means over those that are His.

I wish knowing this could catapult me into suddenly loving everyone, but I know me better than that. Still, I do hope it will give me a little perspective next time I want to walk past that person in need; of give me cause to rethink the way I enter or exit a situation...

Winter Coats

It's finally starting to think about getting cold here. LA never actually gets cold mind you. Pretty much any day of the year if you can find a spot in the sun you can sweat it out... I hate that about Christmas day here; it's always sunny and always hot. :( Still, it actually rained yesterday. I love the rain! And if you can find a spot out of the sun :) it's a little chilly.

It all reminded me of a walk in Portland I took about 3 years ago. My mom had gotten me this jacket for Christmas. She was so uncertain if I would like it. It was one of those buys where she was so sure before and then had total buyers remorse and self-doubt after. Well, needless to say I loved it. I think I loved it even more so because of the uncertainty it gave her. I loved that she cared if I liked it or not, and I loved being able to reassure her that I did. This particular night walk I'm remembering was in Jan. or Feb. I'd gotten home from work and Marley needed her walk. It was the best kind of pleasant cold. The jacket and scarf are so warm and the air is just cold enough that you want to keep your hands in your pockets... I remember chatting on the phone with her telling her how much I appreciated that jacket right then, and how I loved that reveling in it's warmth reminded me of how much she loved me. I am a sentimentalist. I appreciate the thought behind the gift way more than the gift. I therefore have quite a few gifts that cause the same affectionate reminiscence.

I realized the other day as I was busy feeling sorry for myself, complaining about so many little things, that I was actively overlooking a million of those types of little gifts handed down to me by the Giver of all good gifts. Instead of complaining about my cold face or cold hands, the jacket caused me to revel in my warmth given to me out of the affection of my mother causing the purchase of a jacket. Why can I not instead of complaining about my lack of friendships or relationships revel in the warmth of familial affection and possible friendships on the horizon? I have so many sweet gifts given out of such deep seated affection. Why not revel in that instead of self-pity?
a few of my more frequently appreciated gifts: my baby girl, music to connect with self, others, and God, and the gift of discovery....

far off dreams

As a female, I have fantasized about a proposal, a ring, and a wedding my entire life. Now, even though I have imagined quite a few different versions of these things, I can't truly fathom that any of these will ever happen... it's strange to me because I've even dated guys that at the time I was sure was "the one" but even then I couldn't truly ever see it happening; it was just a far off dream. I realize that this is much the way I view redemption as well. I can fantasize about the idea of being saved, cleansed, redeemed, loved, as a part of the bride of Christ, but I can't really fathom it. I have moments of realization when I know that this truth is applied to me but I can't grasp it. Sometimes it's unbelievable to me that I've been given the Holy Spirit as the mark of His love for me, much like a bride wears her engagement ring.... He is coming for me! He has clothed me in (His own) righteousness! I am His and He is mine! He has known me and I will come to know Him continually more until I see him as He is. The great I AM. Emanuel. What would my life be filled with if I could hold on to the truth that I am LOVED by the eternal one? And in turn, that each person I come into contact with deserves at least that amount of love from me. What things would I chose to dwell on and in? What things would I put before my eyes and what would come out of my mouth? What humility and grace would I offer to others?
*sigh* at least for this moment I'm holding onto this vision.

so much to catch up on

Olive and I walked to a local doughnut shop this morning. I wish I were more patient. I know I would enjoy life more if I could just soak up what it was I was doing now and not what I was headed to... Olive takes about ten minutes to walk from one corner to the next; this is not because of the block size in El Segundo but because every dirt clod, rock, stone, ant, fly, piece of grass (you get the picture) requires a greeting, identification, observation, and occasionally relocation. It's amazing really the capacity she has for honest sincere interest in EVERYTHING! I want to learn how to stop and watch her observe things but so often I get frustrated 'cause I just want a doughnut. :( I guess this is proof in point that I'm a work in progress.

On a different note we went camping the end of August and it was a ton of fun! We went to Hume Lake where my family would camp every year when I was a kid. The first time I went I was a year younger than Olive, so I'm glad we got to go this year and start her young. Now, when I say "camping" everyone conjures up different images depending on what they did as kids. Let me clarify. There are no showers. We are fortunate to have a campground that does have flush toilets that only about 20-30 campsites share and are regularly cleaned. There are no lights so if you have to "go" at night you'd better bring your flashlight (still, i'm so thankful that I don't have to dig holes and such). Tent camping in sleeping bags trying to somehow keep the dirt from making it's permanent home in your sleeping bag. Olive was in the midst of potty training, so our porta-potty came with and slept in the bear box at night (though really what bear wants olive pee?). Hikes (all of which happened at about the same pace as our doughnut shop visit), lake days, duck feedings, fire side nights. It was mostly great. It was (as most things good things are) a painful reminder that my life is not and will never be what I have spent years of my life hoping and dreaming for. I thought I'd grow up and be camping with my husband and child but instead my (wonderful) parents are having to try and fill in the gap in Olive's life. This is not how it's supposed to be.... still I'm thankful that it is at all.

gymnastics

Olive and I had our first parent + me gymnastics class today. I was so curious exactly what they'd have 18 month-4 year olds doing. It was great! Olive wasn't quite sure at first. Our house is pretty quiet, so 16 kids in one room with parents and a sibling or two was a little overwhelming to her at first. Then came circle time with song and dance, sticking feet in the air and running in circles.... she really wasn't sure about that. Then some other kids started crying and that was it. Her face gradually melted, and eventually she did cry. We were able to take a step back and observe from the outside of the group that everyone was actually ok, and from the outside, it didn't look quite so chaotic (i can only imagine the view from 2 ft tall). Next came the "obstacle" course which she loved. Monkey hangs on parallel bars, bouncing on trampolines and vaults, balance beams, hand-stand wedges, somersault wedges, bear crawls, and foam climbing circuits; she loved it all but the bear crawl. By that point she realized we were there to have fun and she was bouncing around and had made a couple friends. I have to say I was a little skeptic about ME in a mommy and me class, but it was actually fun. I decided these are the kind of mom's I can hang with; the kind that are willing to embarrass themselves by doing stupid itsy bitsy spider dances and cheers, the kind that don't care if their buts giggle when they exaggeratedly run to convince their kid it's fun. No curtain, drapery, crafty talk where I realize how not "girly" I am, no social elitist, expensive clothes and tastes talk where I am reminded of how not cultured I am :) These are the mom's I want to be friends with :)

To remember this time (again)

Olive is 7 days shy of 20 months. That's 4 months plus 7 days shy of 2 years!!! Right now she is:

waking up and still, barely cuddling for a while before asking to get down and really start the day.

asks for baaaaaeh (aka ballet) first thing out our bedroom door which means I turn on classical radio and she shows off all the moves she knows. She knows how to port de bras, chase, chain, grende jete (well, grende for a 1 year old), attitude derriere, tend (ish), and saute. She learned all of these by watching and I have not intentionally taught any of them to her. I guess she has a dancing bug like me :)

She loves bossing the animals around, her favorite is holding Marley's leash.

She is working on more and more words which is cute, but a very frustrating process for her since none of us understand half of her experimental words.

loves "helping" no matter what you're doing. "Clean clean" is one of her favorite activities.

Coloring is a daily activity, though choosing which crayon to use makes up 95% of the coloring process.

If she can get her hands on the home phone loves to push the redial button. (sorry grandma)

She can climb out of her crib when desperate.

She loves pushing her "wa-wa's" (dollies) in her stroller (aka go-go)

HATES being made to sit in a chair to eat a meal; generally doesn't like eating a meal under any circumstance come to think of it.

Loves watching Olivia Pig, ballets, and home videos of herself way too much.

Plays this game with Papi or anyone who knows the game I guess where whomever her playmate happens to be pretends to be sleeping and she wakes them up with a kiss. It sounds corny, but it's actually quite sweet.

Running is a favorite activity especially when she can convince someone to chase her.

Thinks that every bump is an owie and deserves ice. This all started from one time that she bit her tongue and it legitimately needed ice....

Loves throwing balls and will not throw them until she walks to a hard surface since this offers the best bounce.



There are so many little activities and nuances about her that I take for granted as being her and then suddenly realize that every day, she is being re-created. I want to make sure I remember tomorrow who she is today. I can't wait to see who she'll be tomorrow.

Mother's Day

This post really doesn't have much to do with mother's day other than when it's written. Then again, what in my life doesn't have to do with the fact that I'm a mother now? All things have changed, perspectives, desires, goals, everything.

All my life that I can remember up until now I've been searching for some form of freedom, liberty, independence. Most little kids look forward to the time that they're adults and no one can tell them what to do anymore, but mine was more of an obsession I think. There's a sense of liberty you experience when you're performing and with little credit to you since you're on auto pilot, things go so smoothly that you can just enjoy the ride. There's a freedom at the end of a long day of dancing when you know you faced yourself again in a million different steps and you've won. There's a liberty to pushing past what you know you can't do...
I've found that same sense of excitement by climbing behind a wheel and setting out on a long drive; sometimes with a destination in mind, some times just to drive. I've sought freedom by moving between states, by changing my hair cut, by buying a motorcycle, by adding a tattoo... You see, freedom and enough independence to seek distraction have similar short term effects; the long term is what proves it's worth.

For the first time in my life I want security. I'm sure if I'd been psyched before now that this longing was hidden in my desire for "freedom", but this is the first time in my life that I've embraced that longing as a close friend. I don't want to be free. I don't want to be able to pick up and leave without much trouble. I want to be tied down; I want my life, the where I am and who i'm with to be of such intrinsic value that I just can't leave. I want to be able to depend on the people I've allowed into my life and to be dependable for them. I think that's the point of Children. I think it's ironic that all of us who end up as parents were once those children dying to get away from our parents only to turn around and become a parent who wants nothing more than to be tied down for their children...

I now have little desire to be self-sufficient; given, I'd rather not lean on my parents so much, but not because of what it says of my frailty, but rather because I feel like they've been there for me for 25 years, and it should be someone else's turn now. I think the victories in little battles are important. I wish I could feel those victories as strongly in moral or emotional battles as I feel them in the physical battles of will vs. body found in dance. I know what true freedom is; to face a million battles with yourself, your selfishness, your idolatry, envy, lust, hatred, jealousy, short temper, vanity, self-justifying self-righteousness... to stare these things in the eye in a thousand different small battles every day and to win... I think the whole reformed theology has robbed the sense of victory from me though; acknowledging that no victorious good thing is of your own free will but placed there by the redeeming work of God sort of blows the wind our of your pride's sails and I'm pretty sure pride is a big part of my "liberty". I wish I could find out how to rejoice in the victory of other's more fully; how to stop looking at myself so often. I wish I knew how to rejoice in word and truth with my whole self in satisfaction at the victory of the Cross.... That, would be freedom.

But because I haven't yet found that place.... I wish I had a husband. :( I wish I had that someone to be tied down to and with. I wish I had someone besides my mom to stand by me as I face my thousand battles a day with myself. Someone who knows those battles and watches them happen and isn't afraid to both encourage and challenge me. I love my mom! I'm so thankful she's here with me. I wish I had a father for Olive; every time I read a book to her that has a daddy my stomach turns inside out. Just reading the word to her makes me ache that she doesn't and may never have one. I dread the day that is fast approaching when I'll have to explain to her what a daddy is and why she doesn't have one.

But, for now, I'm thankful I have an Olive to be tied down to. I'm thankful I have my mamma beside me that I can be tied down with. And I pray that in this battle of "I deserve" I would be victorious over the lie of self-entitlement, and find joy in the victory over that flawed delusion...

Happy mother's day all! Be thankful if at some point, your mom's desire for freedom was outweighed by her desire to stay tied down to and for you.

creativity

I wish I were patient enough to be a creative person, but truth is I'm not. I don't have the patience to think ahead and consider what the end result will be of say, mixing the colors orange and purple (it's gross let me tell you) or pointing and clicking a camera.... "i didn't realize that porta-potty was in the back-ground there". I'm just impatient. I want to do do do create create create, and put as little effort as possible into thinking about the repercussions of my creative choices. I think that's why choreography is so hard for me. There's a lot to consider; music, dancers, space, sequence, flow, costumes, lights.... and now i'm on overload lol.

On a completely different note, I went to bounce Olive on the bed the other day and my elbow bounced my camera which was hiding under a blankey... it's broken now :( I'll be looking for a new one if anyone has any recommendations...

slavery of many sorts

I've been wrestling this year with the whole obedience out of love idea. Love for God is such an intangible thing. He's far away, He is (or can be) quiet, it's easy for my pursuit of Him to feel cold and impersonal; just a list of religious practices that are supposed to make me feel connected to Him or more sincere in my faith. As a new mom pondering how to teach the love of God to a toddler and beyond, I fear focusing on legalism or going the other extreme and ignoring the desire of God's heart that we be holy as He is holy. You know that foggy feeling when you know you don't know and you want nothing more than to just know but there's something missing from your understanding... it's what I imagine the holy of holies was like on the day of atonement. Rooms within rooms, the final having no windows and filled with smoke. Isn't it interesting that in that confusion, cloudiness, mystery, God annually revealed himself? I think that any idea of Who God is that isn't surrounded by mystery and awe is too simple and is an empty an answer....
So I've been in that fogged way of thinking about this whole freedom from sin and works thing. What then is required of us? Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind and love your neighbor as yourself... but what does that mean? How do I do that? How do I teach that to Olive if I don't even understand it?
I was reminded today of my journey through dance. I began with no technique at all, but had an innate passion for dance. Even before I knew how to technically dance it poured out of my being every time my dad played the piano in our living room. From there I learned some basics with a limited understanding of technique. I eventually made my way to Westside Academy of Dance where I received more information about the how and they continued to refine my natural ability to express the love and passion I had through dance. Finally after I graduated I went to OBT. Now in this analogy of my dance life to my faith life, OBT is that group of legalists who are the antagonists of Galatians... they told me I was horrible, had no technique, had bad turnout, bad feet, was too short, and that there was no place for me in their dance world. It's like telling the Galatians that they needed to be circumcised and follow the Hebrew's code of ethics which they had no hope of following perfectly. During the year that I was with OBT the passion for dance died and all I thought about in every class was the increasingly strong theme of "i'm not good enough" which eventually made me hate dance and resent any hold on my heart it had had over the previous 16 years. It took 1.5 years away from that environment before the God given passion moved me to dance again.
As a teacher I realize that passion is something given. There are a great many technicians in the dance world. A lot of dancers can get their legs high, do 32 fouettes, hold balances for a short eternity, jump feet into the air... these things can be trained and drilled into you; if you start young enough, you can force perfect turnout, break feet into a perfect point... but all of this does nothing to create an artist. Teaching love is next to impossible. You can teach someone good ways of proving love, but even that can become a practice of legalistic "right" actions. Jesus tells us that if we love Him, we will obey His commandments. I don't think we can teach his commandments and say if you obey His commandments you will love Him; that's backwards and will end in a mantra of "i'm not good enough" (which is good and true, but not a final conclusion) and resentment that even after all that hard work, there's no payoff. Passion, love, adoration for Christ are gifts given by the Holy spirit. I can't produce them in my daughter any more than I can make one of my students love dance. I can show her what her actions tell her about her values though. I can show how her choices are an overflow of the heart. More than anything I can pray, for her, for me, for every one of us struggling with how to love God, that in the smoke filled mystery of this freedom from obedience to the laws and freedom from sin that we would meet Christ and the love for Him would overflow into our lives and actions...

finger paints.... sort of

I'd been trying to figure out printing a postage label online for a while, and (apparently) focusing very hard. Hannah comes up to me from the front room carrying a very stinky diaper open and messy, and I'm thinking, "what on earth is she doing???!" She said that's why she'd been yelling at me (she had? I must've really been focusing hard 'cause I didn't even hear my name). Apparently Olive had found the diaper (I must be distracted today because I apparently forgot to throw it away) and had paraded it to the front room smudging poo on the floor as she went. The saddest part? She brought it to me first. She'd been whining at my elbow off and on as she ALWAYS does when I'm on the computer; seeing as I was doing something legitimate and something that needed to be done right away, I told her "no" (repeatedly) and then began the steely process of ignoring her complaints. About her fourth visit to complain I remember smelling a little stink but thought, "she's already pooped this morning, i can't believe I have to change her again after I'm done"... and that was it. Now there was poo all over the floor. Luckily the majority of her pilgrimage was over tile, which made for easy clean up...still; I guess this will teach me to ignore my daughter. It reminded me a lot of what my dog Goldie used to do. If she wasn't getting what she felt was sufficient attention in a positive way, she'd do something bad to get negative attention. I think most animals do this; apparently babies do too. :(