It’s possible to fall asleep during an ultra sound and other summer lessons learned (so far)

We aren’t finding out the gender of this baby. We’re focusing on the magic here. Fourth and final. Big surprise. Here we go. Magic.

So I was stressed about the ultrasound. Will I be able to really not ask? Will I be able to tell from the screen myself? Will the Ultra Sound Tech tell everyone else in the office just so I feel left out?

It didn’t matter. I got in that dimly lit room and laid down on the table and I was practically snoring. The tech invited me to stay. She didn’t have another test for a few hours, I could take my time. I was tempted.

Summer’s been crazy. Life has been crazy. I am crazy.  We joined the swim team.  Okay, she joined the swim team.

But really it’s a family effort because summer swim team is a lot of time, and a lot of work. Good thing because if you know me, I live for sports and structure. Hmm…

Yes, we are at the pool every morning at 8:15 and that girl is doing laps in the water and I feel a bit like a hypocrite encouraging her to do it because I’ve done few laps in my life and when I was growing up “swimming” was what I did to cool off from sitting there. But alas, it’s been a win and she’s learning a ton, and we are all actually thriving on the structure.

Though some of us are still not as excited as the rest of the Williamsburg Culture about the five hour long swim meets:

But we’re getting there.

Lesson 2: Don’t let your husband volunteer to run the pool vending machine. 

Meanwhile, as Sophia is doing her laps and Olivia and Leila are wading in the kids pool and I’m struggling in confusion over what “50 Free” even means, Travis is restocking the vending machine. He volunteered to take on this project one blissful early summer night when we had all headed over to “Meet the Coaches” and enjoy a bonfire at the pool. I happened to glance over and see him rapturously eating a smore and proclaiming to the pool president “that he thought he could really contribute in this area...” Next thing we know, our new pantry is stocked with honey buns, our new garage filled with cheetos, and in a season of big happenings, our late night discussions are over the popularity of Sprite vs. Dr. Pepper and how to “keep the Nutter Butters from sticking.” Yes.

Lesson 3: In times of chaos, stay organized. And obey the law. 

I got a speeding ticket back in May. 35 in a 25. I cried. I think I actually was crying before the ticket which apparently caused me to speed. The kind police officer asked me, “Ma’am, where are you headed right now?” Is that part of their script? I can’t figure it out, because I looked behind me to three kids and 24 bags from Trader Joes and I said, “home.” What was he expecting? What kind of rogue adventure could I be going on with all these kids, at 35 mph,  without any gluten?

I was stressed. We had decided that week to, you know, move, the next week, and I was seeing the impact on the kids. Basically we decided to switch major things in their lives and announce it all quite cheerfully in a matter of weeks. New baby! New school! New house! Be excited!

They weren’t. I was stressed. And everywhere in this town is 25 mph or blocked by a horse drawn carriage. But, here’s what I find most degrading about a ticket: They tape a summons to your door. 

And here’s what’s worse: we’re switching the girls school and I needed two proofs of address. Between the moves and the chaos (and truly questioning what our address was) I grabbed a bill and the summons. I took a court summons to the school office to prove residency. Talk about first impressions. Stay organized friends. Don’t be like me. Because, to make matters worse, now I can’t find that court summons. And how am I supposed to go to court anyways? Who has the time? No one with the  swim team schedule. Then I realized that it might be dark and quiet in that courthouse. I could possibly read while I wait. I’m finding a way to make this happen.

Within this same time frame, I lost my driver’s license and had to go to the DMV for a replacement. (Insert horror and screaming here. ) The wait was not terrible but the experience led to what has been quite possibly my most formative experience of the summer:

Lesson 4: Never, ever, assume that they will be using the picture on file for your new license. Do your hair and make up every time you go to the DMV, even if you are just picking up a friend.  I’m so grateful that whenever I want to remember the wildness of May/June 2014, I need just look in my wallet (and quickly look away).

Travis and I celebrated our 11 year anniversary last weekend at the wedding of some crazy kids, crazy enough to get married when they were 22 and just out of college. I mean…insanity. I managed to get in a prom picture with this glamorous group to celebrate the first wedding of a generation. I don’t blend in.

Lesson 5: When pregnant, avoid bright colors and large geometric shapes.  

We rounded out the weekend with a great celebration at church at which Travis was presented with the world’s largest meatball.

Lesson 6: If husband has spent one anniversary posing with a meatball, he will again. 

Flashback to last year’s 10 year trip to New York City:

Leading me to my final lesson of the summer thus far:

Lesson 7: Be secure. (And stay safe. It’s a jungle out there.)


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It was a dark, rainy afternoon, where upon something INCREDIBLE happened

I watched “Sound of Music” with Sophia and Olivia for the first time.

Pause please. Okay.

I honestly don’t think I’ve watched the epic film in 18 years. Yes, I know a live version came out. No, I didn’t see it. I’m a purist which means, in this case,  I stick to the film. ( What I mean by purist changes depending on what stance I’m describing, which could argue with the definition of purist…)

Also, though I watched “Sound of Music” 8 times a year for a good ten years before this recent drought, it was always on a VHS tape recorded during Christmas 1990.

Positives: re-watching Cold War commercials each time with historic emotional news flashes of the Berlin wall falling.

Negatives: apparently it was edited for length, so today, not kidding, I saw footage I had never seen before. Longer dialogues of conversations I had always felt were a bit abrupt, subtle looks between characters. Oh what I’ve been missing!!!

When I first saw the movie, I identified with Louisa, the blonde, silent, pranking sister.  The one about whom Maria claims, “And Lousia I don’t know about, but someone has to find out about her!”

Oh Louisa. The mystery.

Then I wanted to be Leisel. Because we all wanted to be Leisel.

Of course ultimately,  I  wanted to be Maria, with longer hair, but mainly for the wedding. Oh the wedding! That was the wedding I wanted. Forget Pinterest and mason jars. I wanted all my nun friends cloistered behind a gate as I left them forever to meet the priest and kneel in perfect sync with the orchestra.

That was the wedding I wanted. When I wanted to be Maria, after wanting to be Liesel and Louisa.

So today, I was curious who I’d identify with, you know,  in my maturity.

I mean I had my suspicions,

But no. The Baroness is still a stranger to me.

Go back to Vienna Baroness!

Marry Uncle Max!

Travel the world promoting family singing groups, grieving that you are a few decades too early for the Osmonds!

No, it was not the Baroness that made me weep with understanding today…

Yes. It was the Reverend Mother. Leading me to wonder if the past years have aged me more than I realized. Or if I’m really just longing for a long, concealing, forgiving, habit right now. Yes and yes.

I want to be like the Reverend Mother! She has such grace and patience. She is not in a hurry. She is not stressed about keeping a wave upon the sand.  She loves the Problem that is Maria. She sees her call as walking with Problems towards healing and hope, not dismissing them. Unless a handsome widowed Captain needs a governess. Then she dismisses them and their guitars. But really how often does that happen?

The Reverend Mother is so wise and generous! She commits herself wholeheartedly to both helping Maria find her true vocation ( a discussion that seriously made me cry) and to hitting every last high note in “Climb Every Mountain.” Wow. I think the VHS taped version cut half that song for cold war commercials.

As I filled with longing to become more Reverend Mother-like, I received my first test:  the CD was scratched during “Edelweiss.” The first “Edelweiss”, when Christopher Plummer Captain Von Trapp had just begun to let down his  guard and reveal himself to be the true Rodgers and Hammerstein singer he was meant to be, we were all meant to be.

I tried not to lose it. Reverend Mother style. I just sang the parts for the girls lost to library CD decay. Each and every note. Reverend Mother Style.

I think they were grateful.

Though I know that right now they want to be Marta or Louisa. It’s where we all begin. 


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On this week

I don’t personally know the families involved in last weekend’s horrible shootings, but at one point I knew what it was like to be a student at Norfolk Christian. In the wake of the tragedy, those memories have haunted me. I remember many nights driving home to the beach from school events, graduation parties, friend’s houses. I knew exactly how many minutes it took to get from the school’s neighborhood to my driveway, and what time I would have to leave to get there by 11:30. I knew there would always be a parent, half asleep on the couch waiting for me.

I wasn’t a parent yet. I didn’t realize how much praying one can do when half asleep.

I also didn’t realize that the true curriculum of Norfolk Christian would not sink in until years later, when I was far away from Thole Street and Triple R Ranch. I had spent years learning Scripture alongside the periodic table, but the revelations that shape me still are Incarnational…Jesus in the form of people – teachers, students, families that were faithful and sacrificial. Who believed though it cost them dearly.  Who loved me well, though I was a self-important, stance-taking, theology debating, cynical remark making, champion for dancing at school formals. No, I have not changed as much as I should have. Yes, I think they have dances now. Yes,  I’m sure that has improved everyone’s lives significantly.

Over the past days and nights as I’ve prayed for the Rodriguezes, I’ve been praying for parents and teachers at the school. And for those sweet students. Students who are learning, as I wish I did sooner, that faith is not like algebra or AP Chem… it is not linear and does not feel balanced. We often don’t experience it terms of  forward progression, step by step. Faith is a gift that is birthed and nurtured, sustaining when we least expect it.  It happens upside down and inside out…it comes out of the cracks when we feel on the verge of breaking, or when our hearts go right ahead and split down the middle.

In Mrs. Merkel’s 6th grade class we had to memorize Hebrews 11. The whole thing. We got a handout at the beginning of the year, photocopied straight from the Bible. We  put it in a plastic sleeve and slid it into our binders and the girls would painstakingly highlight each verse  in a different color. It looked hideous. I still remember most of it. I know most of my classmates do too.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see. This is what the Ancients were commended for. By faith…”

It then goes on to list the crazy crazy stuff people did out of faith and by faith and through faith. Great chapter for 6th graders – lots of action, swords, lion’s mouths, etc. It’s been called the “Faith Hall of Fame,” but really that’s too glamorous.  In a brief interlude, verse 13 admits the tension we  inevitably learn as we age on this journey, why the Christian life is ultimately a calling with great cost, not a commodity we can package and sell.

“All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised. They only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting they were foreigners and strangers on earth.”

The author of Hebrews then returns to his list, “By faith…”

Hebrews 12:1 is rarely studied, or memorized alongside its preceding chapter. Yet, it should have been highlighted away by my 12 year old hands.

“Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses…”

This week has provided signficant additions to my own ever-running “By faith” list.  The peace, strength and mercy being demonstrated can only be described as other-worldly. A community gathers and is comforted by a family facing the unthinkable. Those of us watching the news reports through tears have to remind ourselves that what we see is real.

I’ve been thinking about Norfolk Christian this week ultimately because I still fight the temptation to grow my faith in a classroom. If I can just find the right book...But what taught me all those years ago, the teaching that sticks and shapes, came in the form of names, Mr. Elder, Mr. Doyle, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Linz…It’s what  continues my true education today – the community, the cloud.

In an era when belief is statistically going out of style, the community  bears witness and reminds, and sometimes, such as in this tremendous and difficult moment, those most devastated believe for us all. 



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Did you know?

Dr. Maya Angelou had over 30 honorary degrees but never actually went to college.

Happy Rainy Thursday Friends, here’s to the truth that there are unexpected paths to everywhere and  right now, someone, somewhere is reinventing how to do something.

“The birth of my son caused me to develop enough courage to invent my life.” Maya Angelou, Letters to My Daughter

This is one of my favorites. She wrote it when she turned 80, as a sort of epilogue to her previous biographies. Its a treasure and a great great gift. ‘Tis wedding season friends, and you might just know a bride-to-be who’s going to need some Maya Angelou much more than a Magic Bullet, I mean…don’t we all?

Grateful today for beautiful lives and brave words.

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Since Our Family Doesn’t Look This Way Anymore (and neither does our hair…)

 we are selling our house.

I really thought I would cry buckets when this day came, but honestly I think I left my emotions somewhere back in April. I plan on picking them up again sometime in August with curtains for the new house where we are currently hanging sheets. Yes, the new house, yes sheets, yes we moved. It all happened rather quickly and I do feel two things over and over again: exhausted and grateful. So so grateful and so so tired and so so compelled to tell each and every one of you college graduates this Great Truth in Nina’s 2014 Commencement Address summarized:

Make friends who like to move.

Yes. This will be a lifelong gift to you. Make friends who like to pack and organize and transition and clean so when one day you are standing in the middle of the road wondering which house to head into next  and honestly not caring if any of that STUFF arrives because it is really just  burdensome, these friends keep you hydrated, while designating and filling up your new tupperware drawer.

You need these friends more than a 5-year plan. You’re welcome.

We are living a crazy miracle over here. One that keeps me squinting and tearing up and whispering “thank you” under my breath because of the awe I feel.  Awe, I find, does the impossible- I lose my words.

So I’m done for now, except to say, our wonderful, one-of-a-kind downtown Williamsburg house is for sale. And we aren’t living in it, (though our furniture is.) So it’s move-in ready. I love how it looks without us living in it…I just gaze at the pictures and think of moving there. Please disregard the too-high chandelier in the dining room pictures. I forgot to lower it before the photographer came and it makes me cringe like when I see pictures of my girls with their hair a mess. Oh the regret.

Here’s a link to the house listing: How I love this house- it is charming,  filled with character, and unlike anything else in town. It gave us so much. Please pass on the info to anyone who is interested…Thanks friends…


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And Here I am

I have this social anxiety issue that involves the fear of “catching up.” Basically, the longer I go without connecting with someone the more I fear picking up the phone. There’s just too much to say. So I let it go longer. And then it gets more and more awkward, my own terror increases, I avoid phone calls. I hope for the voicemail when I do make the call back. I become paralyzed.

Then I run into the person.

And instead of the interaction being horrible and filled with accusation, it’s usually natural and easy and we simply start with where we are.  If we have the time to catch up on the past, we do. But really, who does? So, we start where we are.

So here I am. Sorry for the last month of awkward blog avoidance. But really what were any of us missing?

We are expecting Blessed Child Number Four at the end of September/first of October. I call her (because I assume it’s a her though we’re going to be surprised this time) Ayudame or  Finale, simulataneously.

Expecting the fourth elicits all sorts of great responses from the general public. Responses I would have found shocking or offensive 2-3 kids ago but now I just store away for my memoirs and character growth.

Most interesting observation: Responses from Women I Don’t Know. It’s always the same: Wow. I couldn’t have four. I just need things to be clean and orderly.

I never know what to say to that. My instinctual response is to describe my current struggle to keep Leila from putting her feet in my breakfast cereal, but  can’t decide if that crosses the bounds of polite stranger conversation. Then I remember I’m having this discussion because said conversation has no bounds. 

We are excited and busy. Wow. We are busy. Today was William and Mary Graduation, my favorite day to live by the college. We drove by the campus filled with beaming grads taking selfies with each other and sweaty, now-poor Dads packing cars and dreading the 14 hour day of ceremonies. I love it. I can’t get enough. The past month, I’ve had passing conversations with some  neighbors of mine about how tired they are and how stressful it is to pack up and get ready for graduation.  I remind myself that what they feel is real. Then I wonder if perhaps if they are too stressed to eat, could I borrow some meal plan swipes for my family of 5.5? Does that cross the bounds of polite college neighbor conversation? Because I could go for a salad bar , omelette line and ice cream machine exactly right now.

Four kids feels staggering. Each one is staggering in its own way. I have time to contemplate this because Leila gets up between 5-5:30 these days and we hit the streets walking. Colonial Williamsburg is a total disappointment at 6am. Really. I would think more Colonists would be up drawing water from the wells or something. I can’t even find the sheep. The sheep sleep in longer than my child.

We walk, and she baa’s at the horses and I pray. My prayers are combinations of Please, Please, Please and Help, Help, Help. And I sing. Don’t laugh. I’m singing more these days than ever. Most of the truth I know is found in those songs from my childhood. So teachers and children’s ministry people beware. What you teach those sweet Babes will one day be what they’re chanting when they’re in their thirties and completely at the end of themselves. It best be the good, strong stuff, not weird, flimsy stuff. Motions are good. But I can’t do motions while pushing a stroller.

So life is crazy and filled with change. But also with goodness and hope. Each piece of crazy is pushing me away from being comfortable and oh how I love to be comfortable! I think it might be my favorite thing. In fact we once did Tim Keller’s book “Counterfeit Gods” with a group of people and we each had to name our god, according to the book, and mine was comfort! I was so embarrassed. I thought money and power were much more sophisticated gods than comfort. I type this passionately from my position lounging on five throw pillows, you must know this.

Here I am. I gave a talk at least four times in the past  two months about finding what you delight in, doing it , and protecting it.  I delight in writing here in this space and  I need to keep doing  it. Hopefully I’ll be back before another month passes, and our whole relationship gets awkward and terrifying again. 

Thanks for sticking around.

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This girl

loves life.


She loves the pool and the ocean and theme parks and alligators and stairs and wild peacocks and feral cats. I admit she’s not crazy about getting dressed or 12 hour car drives,

but who is? Besides,  the fact that she loves getting her fingernails clipped and sits still and zen- like easily makes up for that. 

Leila took to vacation immediately, soaking up the rays like a Snowbird in Del Boca Vista. Her elfin tongue consists of  ”b” and “p” words, making her key vacation vocab: “beach, pool, ball, bye-bye, and bird”  run together.  But everyday, as we came through the wooded path to the beach and she first caught sight of the ocean, she would inhale and point excitedly, as if to say, “It’s still here?! I’m so glad it’s still here!”, which is exactly how I’ve always felt about it too. 

When I was a child,  the ocean was the biggest thing that never scared me. I remind myself of that as I zipper little girls into lifejackets like a land-locked maniac.  I was scared of fireworks and the pulp in my orange juice. But, as a child, I wasn’t scared of the ocean. And as an adult it’s one of the few things that I don’t think…”hmm…it’s not as big as I remember it.”

We’re back and I’m grateful for rest, family,  and the euphoric smells of sunscreen and saltwater, . But mostly, here at the start of Holy Week, as I hope to be a bit quieter, a bit more prayerful, I’m grateful for the One too big for me to outgrow. 

“Aslan” said Lucy “you’re bigger.”

“That is because you’re older, little one” answered he.

“Not because you are?”

“I am not. But every year you grow you will find me bigger.”

C.S. Lewis Prince Caspian

Say it Clive. Have a peace-filled week Friends.

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On Fear, Rest and Calling it Good

They forgot to ask me to participate.  But I thought I’d give it a shot right now.

I’m scared of being tired. 

And not because I want to sleep. Which I do. Eventually. I’m scared of being tired because there are so many other things I want to do that I make plans and goals and set things in motion and am continually indignant when my body stops or my mood becomes horrendous.

I don’t want to be a Tired Mom or a Tired Friend, or a Tired Anyone. I don’t want to speak in that tone of voice that we all use when we’re trying to act engaged but we’re really texting. You know the one. That’s how I talk to people when I’m tired. Like I’m underwater, texting, and faking everything.

I’ve had the opportunity over this past month to speak for groups at William and Mary and for a group of women in Virginia Beach. If you were at any of those you heard me share this quote from Dorothy Bass. Because it grabbed me when I’ve read it and continues to hold on.

“The very first story of Hebrew and Christian Scriptures climaxes on the seventh day, the very first time there was a seventh day. Having created everything, God rests and blesses this day, and makes it holy. In this way, the Christian theologian Karl Barth has suggested, God declares as fully as possible just how very good creation is. Resting, God takes pleasure in what has been made; God has no regrets, no need to go on to create a still better world or a creature more wonderful than the man and woman. In the day of rest, God’s free love toward humanity takes form as time shared with them.”

God declared it good. And He rested, allowing Him to share time with humanity.

So, as I told the college students and the women. I’ve started this funny ritual of going through my house physically at the end of the day, and declaring it good. As I checked on Sophia and Olivia, I tripped over a half eaten waffle, at ten at night. I declared it good. Someone ate something, or half of something, and was nurtured here today, right?

Then I go through my day mentally and I declare it good. Not perfect, not finished. But good. With space to begin tomorrow. Because if God is truly Good, and with us and in us and for us, then do the math. In the middle and in the messes, He is good, and we can declare things good – and rest. 

So we are departing on our yearly vacation. This is that one time each year when we load up that van until it looks like something allowed only in states without inspections and we turn off the phones and we rest.

I’ll be honest this year, at this vacation point,  I feel more in the middle of stuff than ever. We’re in the middle of so much. But its time to proclaim the goodness and rest. And be with each other in that mystical way only possible when you render yourselves dependent on a rental condo landline. I can’t wait. The middle will be here when we get back. 

See you soon, friends. Go out and over- absorb some Vitamin D.

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A Real Deal…

So I mentioned in an earlier post that I avoid “free things.” Let me elaborate. I avoid free pancakes and free smoothies (they only ever give out the blue one, who wants the blue one?), Kids Eat Free Nights (total bedlam, and though I enjoy a good balloon animal, it’s never worth the noise).

But I need to tell you about an event in our community Saturday because it involves something FREE on a whole different level.

Free dentistry. 


No one put me up to this, you know that’s not the nature of this place (my rants only, thank you). I just happened to be in the dental chair yesterday and asked about the t-shirts everyone was wearing. 

They reminded me that Saturday a number of dentists in our area are collaborating for a “Dentistry from the Heart Event”. Meaning they will provide dental services for free, to the first 200 people to arrive. FREE. Just show up. Early. There are no qualifications needed.

Friends, you know that I tend to not exert myself or take any form of physical risks, thus I have never broken a bone or had a concussion or gashed my head open. I actually don’t think I’ve ever pulled a muscle…

But I have felt some tooth pain. Tooth Number 19 Pain to be exact. That’s on the bottom left, second from the back, if you don’t count my wisdom teeth which are threatening to emerge thus explaining my time at the dentist yesterday and why I feel like I am TEETHING IN MY THIRTIES. 

Teething pain aside, Tooth Number 19 was a whole dramatic journey that evolved over fifteen years, beginning with an emergency root canal and ending with a final extraction. Though even after it was extracted, pieces kept emerging. This tooth would. not. die.

While this is a lot of  information that no one wants to know, my point is that the reality of dental pain is something many people live with when they are without access to dental care. I have seen people line up down the streets in other countries to get teeth pulled, without Novocain, because the pain was unbearable. I have felt that pain, albeit briefly, and though it effects none of your limbs directly,  it’s paralyzing. 

If you or someone you know, could use a cleaning, filling, or extraction, and can get to Norge Dental Center on Saturday, will you pass on the word? There may or may not be balloon animals. But there will be Novocain. And relief. 



Here are  some specifics
On Saturday, March 22nd 2014 Norge Dental Center will be hosting our 3rd Annual Dentistry From the Heart event. Our team will be providing the first 200+ patients with a free cleaning, extraction or filling. We will have several hygienists, dental assistants, dental professionals and volunteers donating their time and resources in order to provide thousands of dollars in free dental care and much needed relief to people in need in the community.

Patients are asked to arrive early as the event is a first come first serve basis. Event registration will begin at 8:00am and patients will be seen through 4:00pm that day. Patients are also encouraged to dress appropriately for the weather, to bring a chair, blankets, water, snacks, etc. as they may be waiting outside to be seen.

Patients ages 18+ are welcome with no restrictions.

For more information please contact us at 757-564-0804 or email



super-sized tooth image found here

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And it Moves Us All…

I hit a wall with the Ancient Troll Prophesy a few weeks ago and decided we needed a repreive before the DVD release of Frozen. (Tomorrow for those of you who failed to pre-order and/or are enjoying your pirated versions. You know who you are.  The truth will find you.)

So on one of our snow days we watched “The Lion King” with the girls for the first time. Travis and I have just begun watching movies on the internet. But don’t overreact. It still involves lots of cords and passwords and me secretly missing The Redbox. Why is technology seamless for everyone else?

Anyways, because I’m cool, I  already had the soundtrack to The Lion King Broadway Show, so now the girls and I cruise around chanting to The Circle of Life – Which is its own sort of experience because none of us knows what they are really saying at the beginning so we each sing something different, while playing our air drums and tribal pipes (offending someone with this post feels inevitable.) But wow, we are passionate and loud, and the other day when it was sunny and balmy before our weekly Monday ice storm, I rolled the windows down and we blasted “The Circle of Life” from the 2003 minivan, and someday maybe, you can all be as cool as us.

And in case you are still wondering, as I am here to inform, I just looked up what they are actually saying in Zulu at the beginning of the song:

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
[There comes a lion]
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
[Oh yes, it's a lion]
Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Siyo Nqoba
[We're going to conquer]
Ingonyama nengw’ enamabala
[Here is a lion and a tiger]


Friends, it has been a week. A week of grief and a week of hope and a week of feeling tempted toward some metaphoric and not so metaphoric fist shaking. I have mourned this week and I have questioned and I have felt disciplined and humbled and at every turn met by the whisper of God through the presence of His Faithful. Real flesh and blood people for whom life has not felt like a circle but a long long road, yet they are peaceful and steady, patient in the His Mystery and safe in His Love, not shaking their fists but opening up their hands.

I have learned more in this past week than probably in the previous two years. If only I was a journaler. But I’m not a journaler. And apparently that’s not a noun. And apparently I am but a simple Show Tune Chanter, who all week long when I got in the car and thought I was belting out something both transcendent and earthy about hope and despair…was singing “There comes the lion. Here is a lion and tiger.”

But now I’m sitting here laughing. Which feels both transcendent and earthy.

Oh friends. Here’s to the sweetness of what we see and the Glory of what we don’t.


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