Merry Christmas!

A few of you may have received this letter by real post, so feel free not to read it again.  For the rest, here is our Christmas letter this year (I wish it were arriving with a stamp).  It might help shed light on why blogging took a back seat for me in 2010.
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Greetings!

Seven years ago, Andrew and I were engaged over Christmas.  Andrew told me then that he wanted us to be one of those families that sends out pictures and Christmas letters every year to family and friends.  I noted this, amidst finals and wedding planning, and promptly forgot it until the following December.  Pictures seemed silly with just us and our cat.  Our first Christmas passed without sending cards and subsequently each Christmas thereafter has passed without cards, let alone photos and letters.  But here I am, sending you a recent photo (whose credit belongs to my sister Jennifer) AND this Christmas letter.   Forgive me if it is long.  I am making up for lost years.

I was recently discussing Christmas letters with some women from my church.  We were all lamenting how they have a tendency to show only the pretty stuff, by which I mean all the good things, the highlights.  They paint our lives as if they are free from suffering, pain, and mistakes.  I have received such Christmas letters in the past and I understand that it is easier to share the happy stuff and the good news.  Who wants a letter full of depressing tid-bits?  But if the Christmas letter serves as the only touch point over the course of years, it does seem that sharing a little more genuinely is in order.  We all had examples of friends whose lives were always picture perfect, and then suddenly a last name changed, or someone was no longer mentioned - without a hint of explanation.

So my picture is not perfect.  None of my children are looking at the camera, but this kinda typifies our life.  There are five people in our house.  There are five people making messes.   There are five people’s interests and preferences bumping up against each other.  Not to mention five peoples voices, three of which really do not see any value in speaking quietly.  One lesson from the children - if it is worth saying, say it loudly!

2010 was a difficult year for us in some ways, and a tremendously rewarding year in other ways.  We have had three different addresses this year.  They were not all moves up, either.  The moving was stressful in itself.  Andrew has lost two jobs and juggled 4 others.  He was faithful to work evenings doing janitorial work, actually winning “employee of the month” in May.  We have been humbled and nearly broken.  Moving into our current home, we had no dishwasher, no laundry machines, no money for laundromats, and a huge task of purging as we had to squish belongings for a space more than twice this size into this little house with virtually no storage.  I struggled greatly in an attempt to be content in such a circumstance (remember what I mentioned above about five people making messes).

Alongside those struggles have come rich rewards.  We have been forced to think critically about our priorities.  This means we choose to have a piano instead of a TV.  It means we have fewer dishes so that I can use the kitchen more, and no dishwasher so there is room for a kitchen table.  It means we spend our after-the-kids-go-to-bed hours talking instead of watching movies.  We have been forced to learn to live together well, or at least, much better.  There is not room for grand temper-tantrums, nor grudges.  We have been forced to de-clutter and get organized (though this is an ongoing process). There is simply no room to keep “someday projects.”  I either have to do them, or pass them along.  This has forced me into action and decision.  We live more simply and more purposefully.  Additionally, we have learned to be loved by our community.  This has been extremely humbling, but it has also been a potent reminder of how remarkable it is to be offered grace.  Our church and friends have come alongside us, generously providing a temporary space from which to transition into finding a smaller home, relief from some financial burdens, and a great working washer and dryer (which may have saved my sanity and health).  We are so excited for the day when we can give back in the manner in which we have received.

The night Andrew was awarded employee of the month, another momentous journey began.  He met with the Chorus Director of the Eugene Opera to see if he could recommend a voice instructor for Andrew with the hope of someday being able to sing in the opera.  The chorus director himself took Andrew on as a student immediately and prepared him to audition formally in July for the Eugene Opera.  His audition went well and he has performed in several small promotional events with the first “real” opera taking place over this New Year.  Andrew is in the chorus with a small solo.  This has been an amazing experience for our family.  Andrew is more at peace than ever now that he has returned to his first passion, singing.  We have every indication that with continued hard work, Andrew should have no problem pursuing a full-time career as an opera vocalist.  Though for now, he is a carpenter by day, and chorister by night.  

After many years of mistakes and failures at a career level, it feels wonderful to have a taste of success.  We have wondered, if, perhaps, God had to make everything else Andrew touched (in regard to career) fail in order to bring him back to what he was made to do (of course, those failures were all valuable life lessons that I think will allow him to pursue music with a fervor and purity that he would not have been capable of 20 years ago).  Another life lesson from this year: Trust God’s story for your life - even in the dark places.

Looking ahead to 2011 we are anticipating being in one place long enough to plant a garden and perhaps add some chickens to the backyard.  I am looking forward to Andrew having stable work and adjusting to his opera schedule in a way that allows me to turn my attention to some writing projects that have been on the back burner for a long time.  Both boys will continue studying violin and our house will remain filled with music-making and homeschooling adventures.  I also know 2011 is bound to bring with it unforeseen challenges and mistakes, for this is life.  I pray that we all give each other the gift of grace to share in both the joys and the sorrows that will inevitably come our way.

Merry Christmas!  May the rest of your holiday season be filled with hope.  May we have hope for the marvelous possibilities of a new year, as well as have hope for the day Peace on Earth really does come, when all the sorrows and failures of our lives will be removed and redeemed.

With love,
Andrew, Marianne, Søren, Elliot, and Penelope

Chuck

My friend is far too young to worry about his height shrinking but his waist has lost too many inches.  He does not remember to eat.  It is likely he will not grow old enough to shrink, because his memory is shrinking, his mind is shrinking.  Of course, he lives inside his head without noticing.  In his head, he is ever present, and sees no symptoms of what the rest of us cannot miss within a 5 minute visit.  He continually complains that people come in and out of his apartment and take and remove things, and this is just the way life is now.  I cannot tell him that most of those people are him.  My friend, as I knew him, is slowly leaving.  I wrote a poem once, in junior high, about losing a friend to depression that lead to an attempted suicide through overdose.  In my mind, I was trying to describe the withdrawal I saw in her and how it left those around her helpless to know how to help.

Alzheimer's feels like this.  Of course, it is not depression at all (though it certainly is depressing while you're still sharp enough to know what it all means).  It is nowhere near the same as suicide.  However, the growing distance and threat of separation feels similar.  The helplessness feels similar.  It often feels like he is in a place where I can no longer reach him, even when we sit together and happily converse.  I already can't really call it dialog, though two are present.  There is not much hope in any significant back and forth other than soothing emotions of the moment and sometimes catching a rabbit on it's trail long enough to pet it once or twice.  There is not much hope that any particular thing said might stick through to our next conversation.  Yet enjoying a friend's company still transfers.  He felt better to have a caring friend listen for a couple of hours.  His spirits were much improved.  I do not think he remembered that they were ill when we began.  He is still quite well.  He functions well.  He still gets to have a real life for as long as this stage lasts.

It is a strangely beautiful thing to watch even the dark parts of God's story unfold.  On the drive over to see him, after dropping the kids off at their grandmother's, I put it music I don't usually get to enjoy.  I sang, and reflected, and yes even cried.  "Pain is our mother.  She helps us recognize each other."  There is so much that God authors that I do not understand.  I mourn these things.  There are so many unnecessary pains and sufferings in this world (Alzheimer's barely scratches the surface).  Yet I was struck at how much more real our connections are with another when we realize we both suffer, when we feel the same ache.  My friend has the honor of being able to serve as a chaplain in the assisted living community he is moving to next week.  We talked about him being able to help people who ask "If there is a God, why does he let [fill in debilitating, painful condition/circumstance here] happen to me/my loved one."   He gets to live this question out personally, while still praising his Maker.

That is the serious side, but there is a lighter side too.  I look forward to the day when he "gets saved" regularly.   I have often wished I could truly experience the excitement of the Gospel every day.  He may get to do this.  There is so much to laugh over when your mind begins to fail you - and more so when your friend's mind is the one failing.  It is not unlike parenting.  It requires patience, care, and a good sense of humor.  You laugh or cry, or both.  It is terrifying, to be sure, perhaps more for those on the outside.  He thinks he's fine.  Diagnosed, but no obvious symptoms yet, he thinks.  To correct him would be cruel, unless not correcting him in the moment is dangerous.  For me, the threat of him driving down to see me by himself required serious action.  So I drove.  I visited.  I photographed it, for perhaps it will help him remember it hasn't been years next time we talk.  Perhaps it will not, but still, there was this moment.  Despite whatever reflection and tears we may shed, there is still so much to laugh about and enjoy together.

Refashioning for Dressember

I have been following Grosgrain for a long time.  It is the only crafty blog I follow, but I find her projects so inspiring.  You may remember the "Frock by Friday" I participated in through Grosgrain last Spring?  November was "Embellish Your Knits" month.  She has tips for embellishing and creating a month's worth of cute cardigans.

Attempting to wear a dress today, for Dressember, I decided I should turn an old brown box sweater into a cardigan.  I used this tutorial from Grosgrain.  I cannot say I did this perfectly.  I think the fabric was a bit thick for the bias tape I used, and I didn't really pin or measure anything...so it is imperfect.  However, from pull-out-the-machine to wear-and-photograph only one hour passed (with little ones underfoot), so that works for me.  I might try embellishing it further a little later, for now, I am warm and wearing a dress.

I had a lovely hour-long adventure to Goodwill the other night and found a $2 bag of sewing things (random rickrack, bias tapes, etc).  I am now equipped to tackle some of those knits that I cannot bring myself to throw away, but that could use some sort of update to be wearable.

My dear Elliot wanted to model with me. 

Detail of the Ribbon (and evidence that I need to do a little more work to hide the fact I was using blue biased tape) 

Sweater before

Dress: "Vintage" Old Navy

Tights: Hue

Clogs: Sanita

Cardigan: Gap, refashioned by me!

Grosgrain Ribbon: Saved off bedding packaging

A Mother's Freedom (and happy Dressember)

Today marks the first day I have weaned a child without already being pregnant with the next.  That means today is the first day I have had my body completely to myself in over six years.  It has not come back in quite the same condition as I gave it six years ago, but I wasn't expecting that (and the little people are more than worth it).

Today I am celebrating by drinking a LOT of raw milk and by participating in Dressember (at least today) at the prodding of Steph.  I always laugh when I participate in these fashion things, but they are fun, and I need the help to take getting dressed more seriously (so my husband has something remotely pleasant to come home to).

Dress: "Vintage" Banana Repulic (this has literally been in my closet since 1994)

Jeans: Levi's

Tank: Great Outdoors

Scarf: Hand-dyed down the street (birthday gift from my husband)