"I want it like it was!"

There have been a lot of changes in our family recently: sorting out health issues, Nils resigning from his job as pastor, and saying goodbye to our church family to name a few. Amidst this tumultuous time many people have asked me how our kids are doing. I think they are doing remarkably well; but, as some of these changes start to affect our day to day life more obviously, they are not going unnoticed by our children.

We had a wonderful and emotional goodbye to our church family last Sunday. I cried most of the time, overwhelmed by feelings of tenderness for the dear friends and special moments that our family has known in that community, sadness for the change, and gratefulness for God's work in all experiences of life. If it hasn't already been clear to our children that there are some significant changes happening and that mom and dad are a bit emotional these days, it was definitely clear on Sunday. We've been pretty open and have told our kids about the changes as they came up in conversation, but seeing their church community all say goodbye gave them an experiential understanding of what is happening. Bea noticed I was crying on Sunday and periodically patted my back and gave me hugs. We named the changes and then she was off and running. Nathan was a little clingy on Sunday and was clearly understanding the significance of the goodbye, but he waited until the next day to show his deep emotion about it.

Monday morning Nathan decided to deconstruct a pad of paper (taking things apart is a common activity for him). Then, in growing levels of frustration, he tried to put the pad of paper back together... exactly as it had been. We used hole punchers, bent paper clips, tape, scissors, everything we could think of and the panic only seemed to get worse. Finally, Nathan melted down into shrill screams of "I want it like it was!" that lasted one hour. After an hour, he suddenly stopped yelling and was asleep. I have only seen this behavior one other time in his life (which unfortunately was on an airplane, but that's another story).

I don't think it's a coincidence that the day before was our goodbye party at the church. While his 3 year old self may not have known why he felt so devastated about the change in his pad of paper, it is clear to me that leaving our church home is a big change for Nathan. Nathan was born at this church, in fact he was in church community before he was even born. Nathan, Shu-Mei, Nicole and Esther were all in utero at the same time and inspired a baby shower for the church nursery. He was in the back of the sanctuary when he was 3 days old, grew up at the parsonage next door, was baptized at 3 months, was a founding baby of the neighborhood playgroup at the church, came to Grow and Go meetings weekly with other moms and tots. He was an expert at the banister slide, felt very comfortable on the front platform (as we occasionally saw with his stage runs during the singing time or his daddy leg hug during the prayer time). He also went on pastoral visits. He accompanied Margaret to almost all of her chemo appointments and doctor visits during the last 2 years of her life and enjoyed our "lunches out" at the hospital cafeteria (which is so much better than you'd think). He went to funerals, talent shows, football games and new member visits. He spent a whole summer playing with the church rocks along the sidewalk and not going anywhere without one in each hand. He knew how to turn all the church lights on and off. He knew where the stock of coffee stirrers was kept. This community of people and this physical space has been a big part of Nathan's world.

As we left the goodbye party Nathan asked again why we had to say goodbye to our church and said he still wanted to play with Esther and he still wanted to go to the singing time. We explained again that we could still see all his friends and even visit on a Sunday once in a while. Even though there are plenty of things that will stay the same, I know it won't be "like it was." This is the sadness of change. As hard as we try, we can never make the pad of paper look exactly like it used to. Let's hope that after a time of grieving, we can all take a breath (or a nap) and then be able to wake up and move forward into the good things that are growing in the next season of our life together.

Soundbites

N: I'm going to kill you!
B: (crying)
K: What happened?
B: (still crying) NayNay killed me!

after an argument about sharing a box...
N: Do you want to keep that box forever-and-ever-amen?
B: Yah.
N: Nooooo, Bea. You can't keep it forever-and-ever-amen because you have to share.

N: (scream)
K: What's the problem?
N: Bea pushed my head and she said I couldn't feed her baby Jesus! (Bea had been calling her dolly baby Jesus for the day)

B: My nose is slippery.

N: Bea, would you like soy milk or cow milk or duck milk?

after looking closely at a batman action figure:
B: Batman wears diapers?

a conversation with a 4 year old at the park
N: Hi bouncy boy!
Br: Hi.
K: Aren't you the kid nicknamed Taco?
Br: I'm not taco!
N: Taco! Taco!
K: Yeah, I thought I talked to your mom about how when you were a baby she wrapped you up like a taco and the name stuck.
Br: No! I'm not Taco ...but you can call me peanutbutter.

Stopping to Stare

Winter has been a hard season for the 2 days a week that I care for 3 little ones. It's just so much easier to let them run around in a sunny park than to deal with cabin fever or all that is involved in venturing outside. Here's a typical internal dialogue for me on these days:

Snow suits on. Nathan's pants are on backwards, oh well, don't disrupt the flow. Snow boots. Stay calm. Shove the foot in. Ignore the child running the other direction, you can herd him when you're done with this set of boots. Hats on. Okay, I can velcro your hat. Will you stop crying after that? Mittens on. Where is Zen's thumb? Was that mittens flying across the room? I thought I just helped everyone put them on? You want me to snap your jacket all they way to the top? I hope you're not so hot in your jacket that you fall asleep in the car. Oh, yeah... my gear. Okay, out the door. Down the slippery steps. Hold on. There's the icy patch. In the carseats. Ugh, these straps are too tight with all the layers. Push. Shove. Snap, snap, snap. You're hand's squished? Where is it? Okay. We're in. Now... do I have my keys? I hope so, the front door's already shut.

Amidst this high intensity season we had a special moment today. We did eventually make it to the Nature Preserve and saw a deer in the distance. We stayed very quiet and watched her walk closer and closer. Finally she stopped in front of us and looked straight at us. We shared quite a long a moment of eye contact- enough for me to stare, take a picture and stare some more before she ran off. In a busy day where eye contact is at an all-time minimum... this deer reminded me to stop and stare.

Sledding and Sliding

Holiday Dress Up

Cute. I'm glad I got these photos, but it wasn't easy.

First, there is getting them into "fancy" clothes. Usually dressy clothes don't feel quite as comfy, I don't usually suggest these clothes to them so they are "different," and kids can always sense when you really want them to do something like wear nice clothes so I can take a holiday photo. Then, there is the arranging... getting them to stop playing momentarily to take some pictures but not run to see the picture on the camera screen before the shutter flashes, getting them to smile but not smile too much, stand next to each other but not on each other, etc, etc.

The stars were aligned today and somehow I was calm about it and they were easy-going and we stopped and looked at photos on the camera screen and we stopped and played puppies and we stopped a lot in general. But in the end, we had a few nice photos and we weren't all frustrated with each other. This is quite a contrast to my first attempt.

The First Attempt (at a Holiday Photo)

"Yes, but hold her nicely."

"Bea, are you picking your nose?"

"Okay, sit still."

"I know, Bea, you can nap right after I get this photo."

"Bea, take your finger out of your nose."

"Okay, I think we're done."