Happy Five Months!

Five months ago, this little guy was less than half his current body weight. And now he responds to his name, sits up, rolls over, and eats from a spoon!

If he wasn't blowing bubbles at me I might not believe it.

My Sister Rocks

My sister has been coming down to "visit" me during the last few weeks; actually she and her baby play with Levi while I work on my thesis. Levi and his cousin are only 5 weeks apart--lucky them!

A Difficult Decision

We're having our family picture taken tomorrow and I can't decide if Levi should just wear jeans or if he should do overalls. Help?

One Reason I Wake Up (Cheerfully) Every Day

I'm not teaching next semester for various reasons; I'm heartbroken. I feel like I'm leaving something sacred before I fully understand its holiness and potential.

Yesterday as I looked at my students slumped over their computers, wishing the day, the semester, their time in college was over I teared up and had to turn back to the whiteboard and pretend that everything is fine and that I don't care and I won't miss it. But I will.

I have to remind myself that this is the perfect note to end on. I love my students; this class is almost dreamy, and I've been teaching my own invention. Gratifyingly, it has gone very very well.

I would do a few things differently: I would start with a small essay that I don't grade. Then we would work on the analysis and spend far less time on it (three weeks, max). Then we would have library days and the ruminative essay--before they're burnt out and before they can cop out of the short essay. Give them the big one while they still have energy left. The last major assignment, before the portfolio, would be the short essay--then they can have fun and incorporate more research and have a little better grasp on the essay itself. Why do I harp on these things?

Not teaching is better for my family (which is why I'm doing it) and my sanity (which is an added bonus). I want to believe I can do everything, but it seems my limitations close in daily. Plus, if my health continues in the direction it has been, I don't know that I'll be doing much at all. Maybe relaxing (okay, I'll still have two classes, the reading series, and my thesis defense--plus real life: Wesley, Levi, and moving to wherever we go to grad school--pray for Boston and MIT friends!) isn't a good idea in that context.

Can you get an immunization for hyper-emotionality?

If anyone asks, I'm fine. Thanks.

Some Appreciation and Hope

"The root meaning of the word family is household, a gathering of people who take shelter together. No matter how troubled our households, we're going to keep on taking shelter together becuase we need one another..." Scott Russell Sanders, Hunting for Hope

This is not a normal post. Hunting for Hope is lovely, a balm of Gilead, though.

For the last seven weeks, my ward has been bringing dinner to a woman in our ward. Every night. Two more weeks to go. She crushed a joint in her foot, is on a walker, and needs extra help right now. Since I'm the compassionate service leader I've had the chance to talk with her often, coordinate meals, and bring meals when things fall through. On top of this, we've had other emergencies, surgeries, crises. On average, my Relief Society has brought in three meals a night to someone in the last two weeks, given rides, babysat, and zillions of other unseen, unreported, loving acts. I cringe a little every time I need to call another person to ask for more service--but no one hesitates. They say, "I'll make it work" and "Thank you for this opportunity" and I'm humbled wondering if I have such faith and gratitude and cheerfulness. Too often I feel overwhelmed by lists and urgencies, but they show me that love and compassion is just part of living. They teach me what it is to be followers of Christ, to be family, to shelter together even when there is so much smoke in the cave you can't see each other, even when our own problems reek, even when we just need a little air--we're family.

Open Mouthed and Wondering

I've been thinking about (missing) my dad today. And how Levi sometimes looks like him and I think, "How did Corrie get in there?" This (above) is not an expression I've seen from my father.

While very few things compare to scripture for me, every now and then I need a silly book. Yes, silly. Not poorly written, but strictly for fun. So I just listened to Shannon Hale's Austenland and giggled. Levi, poor kid, endured to the end. He liked the voice better than the reader of Candy Freak (which has interesting research, but the author is annoying and frankly, not even worth blogging about). Levi just awoke from his lengthy 20-minute nap and I'm remembering all the other things I should be doing because I recognize that this blog is mostly self-promotion and that thought makes me uncomfortable. Shannon Hale is enjoyable and recommendable.

Yesterday I shoved all the unrevised pieces I'm considering for my thesis and came out with a 100 page document. Crappy. Unpolished. Disconnected. But 100 pages. Perhaps I'll be able to pull this off by December as planned.

In other news, my essay "Full Stop," (previously known as "Period!") will be published in the next issue of Tusculum Review. Found out last week, and yes, I'm a bit giddy. I'll probably (unfortunately--check out these adverbs, will ya?--) get over this soon. But I am pleased. Wesley is narrowing our grad school options. We're down to 8 and need to go down two or three more since each application is about $90. I'm so excited to go (anywhere) with him; I do worry about leaving my writing friends, my workshop buddies, my essay posse. Who will tell me when I inadvertently make sexual comments, or when I should keep working on something, or when I really should just ditch an idea.

And, after Conference and a series of 3 a.m. revelation periods, I may be taking up poetry and even Emily Dickinson again.