Saving my life: words. Atticus has just learned to repeat, “I love you.” I was going to write a whole thing about this, but then my friend Daniel wrote about his little girl, who said, “I love you,” for the first time spontaneously this week. Go read what he wrote instead. I will tell you that it’s super sweet to hear him say it and that also last night when I told Atticus that I loved him, he responded, “I know,” so I am excited about how Han Solo apparently lives in our house.

Saving my life: food. Alisa and I went out to dinner on Tuesday night and I ordered a salad and got shrimp on it for four extra dollars. I was expecting to get four shrimp. It was more like twenty shrimp! And it was delicious.

Saving my life: friends. I got to have dinner with Alisa. She had shrimp, too, in case you were wondering.

Saving my life: words and food. So, you know Aqua Teen Hunger Force? I know, it’s not the greatest show ever or anything, but I love Dr. Weird and I have taught Atticus how to say, “CORN!” and, “MORE CORN!” just like that. Because I think it is hilarious. Here he is, Dr. Weird style.

Saving my life: more food. On Wednesday, Mike made me bacon-wrapped shrimp for dinner. Did it have something to do with Men’s Health magazine? You be the judge.

Saving my life: even more food: A few weeks ago, Alison Presley instagrammed a picture of vanilla soft-serve with olive oil and sea salt. Mike and I once tried olive oil gelato and it was delicious, so we were on board instantly. And, indeed, it is delicious and smooth and glorious. I will keep on singing its praises until you try it, too.

Saving my life: long weekend. The pool opens this weekend! And my family is throwing a shower for my brother’s fiancée! And we have Monday off from work! And there are eight days of school left! Summer is almost here, and I don’t know if you can tell, but I am so excited I can hardly stand it.

These are my common graces this week. Mostly food-related, as usual. What is saving your life this week?

I did not enjoy pregnancy, and I never got those euphoric breastfeeding feelings that people tell you about, and the pounds did not melt off like the lactivists promise. But I tried to think of my body respectfully: Look what it did. It grew this little person and nourished him for a year. The softness shows what it can do, what it has been through. It is a badge of honor. Working out jeopardized my milk production, and so I willingly chose milk production over weight loss. When my pants did not button, I remembered what Anne Lamott said about her thighs, how she called them the aunties and rubbed lotion on them. How every part of us deserves care. I got pedicures and bought new clothes.

It was easier to be tender with my body when I was still nursing. After we were done (13 months and 7 days, if you are counting, which I was), my hormones were crazy and I got all puffy and the pounds still did not melt off like it was suggested that they would once Atticus weaned. When I looked in the mirror, I could not summon any kindness for myself.

Atticus is the kind of kid who falls and bumps his head and keeps on going. For all of his toughness, he touches Big Bunny with the same reverence that I saw on others’ faces when Atticus himself was a baby. He rubs her fur the same way that people touched his head and marveled over his toes.

And sometimes he gently rubs my hair that same way. He pats my tummy and giggles at my belly button and hugs my thighs. He delights in me the same ways that we marveled at his tiny perfect body almost 17 months ago.

I did not expect to learn about being tender to my body from a rough-and-tumble toddler. But he is strong and sweet, and he reminds me of my own strength and helps me to be kinder with myself.

The truth is that I don’t get a free pass on this body image thing just because I’m raising a boy. The boys at school talk about weight and food and struggle with their appearances, too. I want to teach Atticus to have a healthy attitude about his body and to have respect for women’s bodies, and that means that I have to model both of those things myself.

Yesterday, Atticus saw a teeny tiny plane on the spine of our phone book. He ripped it off the shelf, chanting “aih-pane, aih-pane, aih-pane.” To his grave disappointment, there were no airplanes in the book. He was inconsolable. I tried to find some airplanes in the yellow pages, but the small pictures there did not make up for the fact that every other page was devoid of planes. There is a plane on the spine! Isn’t that how this book stuff works?!

(Mike and I both think the “plane” on the spine is actually a telephone pole sticking up over someone’s head. It does look a bit like an airplane, especially to an airplane-obsessed toddler. But we did not try to explain this to said toddler. We simply put the phone book in the recycle bin. Why do we even have a phone book? I don’t know. Stupid phone book.)

The one thing that pleased me about the meltdown was that Atticus could see something that did look like a plane. I worry all the time about his eyes, whether he will be able to see. When he picks out tiny details, I feel a degree of comfort: He doesn’t have to wear glasses. Yet.

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When I started blogging, I chose “Through a Glass, Darkly” as my title. I can’t say that I thought all that much about it. I like the language of the King James Version. I like the reminder that we don’t understand everything that’s going on, but that there is hope for the future. Also I thought it would make me sound kind of spiritually cool.

It turns out that seeing and being seen is an idea that pops up a lot in my conversations and in my thoughts. Not just because of my history of poor vision, though that is certainly a big part of my story. But also because, as I was growing up, there were many times I felt invisible to the leaders of my church. They didn’t know my name, didn’t care about the things that I was interested in unless they were related to the church. Perhaps this was because of the structure of the church, or perhaps it was because I was a girl. And perhaps part of it was learned behavior: it is easier to hold back and claim red-headed stepchild status than to admit that you are afraid of further rejection.

A few weeks ago, our church had Youth Sunday, and it was, as always, a pleasure to watch our youth group use their gifts and to speak in their own voices about their experiences with God and their faith journeys. This is one of the things I meant when I said a few weeks ago that my church was saving my life. The children and youth at church are known in a way that I never was, and I cherish watching them. There is a measure of redemption for me to be seen as a person and to be given the opportunity to see the individual giftedness of those around me, including my own son. I am starting to better learn what that looks like, and it is exciting to think about raising him in a community that values his gifts rather than a system where he is shoehorned into certain ways of thought.

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Yesterday afternoon, I gave Atticus some water and pulled him up on the couch with me. I held him until he stopped crying, and then grabbed a bunch of books. And though I am, frankly, tired of airplanes, we looked at pictures of them until he was happy. We practiced his letters and we watched the “big trucks” drive by. And then we looked at more airplanes.

Who is he going to be? How can I show him that those interests are important to me, simply because they are his? It won’t always be clear, so I have to remember to look.

Also, we got a lot of comments like, “Exposing him to the arts at such a young age!” I love it when people approve of my parenting.

After the art, we went home and Atticus and I napped, and then he woke up and I nursed him and he napped some more while I lay next to him, watching him sleep. It was my favorite day of his first year, just a random Saturday in October. We were out and about. There was sleeping and snuggling and art appreciation.

I will confess that I had trouble finding much of anything that might be saving my life in the middle of a difficult week of state testing. These are sweet days overall for our family: we are getting more sleep now, and Atticus is busy and learning, and we have a good routine. That October Saturday made me hope that these days would be coming. I have thought about that pearl of a day this week, rolled it over in my mind as I watched students bubble their answer sheets, and I am grateful that we are stringing together more like it.

What is saving your life this week?

On Sunday morning, as Atticus snacked on goldfish in the pew next to me, he leaned over and gave me a spontaneous hug. He’s been hugging people with his head for a while but recently learned to add the arms. Now he hugs his friends at school in the morning and at pick-up, and it’s basically the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. (The cutest thing you’ve ever heard is when he tries to say the word octopus, which sounds like op-ah-tee. Hee hee hee.)

I hugged him back, and he did it again and again, this boy of mine. His independent nature is tempered by a sweetness and a happiness that settles him. We hugged and then he kissed me, and I thought about how far we have come, the two of us. I breathed the scent of his hair and the smell of goldfish crackers, and tears filled my eyes.

I have cried a bit more than usual in the past week, dismayed to see my beloved NC the butt of national jokes. Not to mention my own sadness about the vote and its repercussions on my friends and students. It didn’t surprise me when tears stung my eyes as Atticus put his sweet head next to mine. It didn’t surprise me when I cried later in the service, as a friend was singing and the person two pews ahead of me couldn’t stop wiping his own eyes. Throughout many conversations in the past week, the tears have threatened to spill over.

I think Buechner is right about tears being a gift. The tears of the past week have shown me how parenting has softened my heart, and yesterday’s tears were part of Atticus’s Mother’s Day gift to me. Love is always the means by which we save our souls, love that spurs us to action. And Atticus has taught me what that looks like.

We call it communion.

Most Sundays, we stand in a circle and pass the bread and cup around. The body of Christ. The cup of forgiveness. It goes from hand to hand. It’s funny when she has trouble pulling off a piece of bread, or when he forgets what to say. The symbols are sacred to us, but it is also the meal of a family. We smile conspiratorially at one another, affectionately.

As the bread is passed around, I sometimes catch a glimpse of something deeper going on. A flicker in the lines around the mouth. A brief expression of the eyes. A deep inhalation. A signal that this is one of those thin places, where we are closer to God’s holiness. I have seen it before when I served communion, but when we pass it around in a circle, we experience that closeness together. People can see it on my face, too, if I let down my guard enough. When we pass it around in a circle, I am reminded that I am not supposed to do life on my own.

We call that communion, too.

My faith community has loved one another well this week, and I have been proud to be a part of them. This week, what is saving my life has been that communion of the saints.

What is saving your life this week?

Dear Atticus,

We adults remember details from childhood: the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows, summer twilight in the yard, measuring the snow with a yardstick. We forget, sometimes, how scary childhood can be. Even if you feel safe in the home your dad and I have created, you will, one day, learn about betrayal and bigotry. You will feel fear and isolation when you realize how the decisions other people make affect you.

It feels wild, this lack of control.

There are wild things in the world. Sometimes they are monsters that will not be tamed. Sometimes they are as beautiful and free as the wild geese. Sometimes they are both. The wildness can be frightening.

Adults will tell you not to be afraid, because we want to make things simple for you. Instead, I want to tell you to be brave. It’s okay to be afraid. But push back at the fear. Embrace a little wildness. Taste freedom. Recognize that some things are out of your control. Have faith. Know hope. Listen to the foolishness of love. Make mischief of one kind and another. (You are good at this already.)

I can’t tell you that you will be safe, won’t tell you that everything will be okay. I wish the wild things weren’t all around us. I wish we could simply go to where the wild things are and then return again, dinner still waiting. But I will tell you that the feeling you get when you face the wild things, walking (or even rumpusing) through them, is empowering. I want you to taste that wildness for yourself, to learn how strong you can be.

Be brave, my sweet boy. Your dad and I will keep your dinner warm for you.

Love,
Mama

The only problem I have with keeping good things is that good things can’t always reflect the larger heart-changes that are going on. This was one of those months where years of reading and reflection and conversations started to gel. Do you keep track of good things? And what are you reading? Post them in the comments.

April
1 – Easter egg hunt after church.
2 – Our eight-year-old neighbor is so sweet with Atticus.
3 – A couple of stressful days at work end with good news.
4 – Had an especially fun evening with Atticus on the deck.
5 – I got excellent news about a student I am rooting for.
6 – Impromptu outing with Alisa.
7 – Atticus’s first plane ride is a success; I get the best pedicure I have ever had.
8 – Brunch at the yacht club is delicious and I made good choices so I didn’t feel guilty.
9 – Shopping is a major success.
10 – Delicious seafood for dinner.
11 – Atticus slept from liftoff to touchdown on the flight home. Couldn’t have been better.
12 – Labyrinth walk.
13 – Atticus and I went and had lunch with my mom.
14 – Baby shower for my oldest friend.
15 – Bright Sunday at church, and my boys dressed in matching clothes. Adorable.
16 – Excellent email discussion with my friend Brandi.
17 – I never have good doctor’s appointments. Today’s actually went well.
18 – Fantastic discussion about the end of Speak that makes me feel amazing about my job.
19 – Sometimes I am in a meeting and I text the people across the room, just like the kids.
20 – Friday night pizza and Parks and Rec.
21 – BRING IT ON: THE MUSICAL was amazing. I loved every minute.
22 – Mike and I talked about some things from our history we’ve never discussed before.
23 – My mom took care of Atticus even though I was home sick. I took two naps.
24 – Atticus and I had a nice day, even though I was home sick. I sadly got no naps.
25 – Movie and pizza with my girls’ book club.
26 – Eighty-three poems!27 – Worked on some writing for a workshop I am attending. Mike is so supportive.
28 – Atticus’s BFF came over for lunch.
29 – Nice walk with Atticus and our eight-year-old neighbor.
30 – Really nice conversation with my brother.

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On May 8th, North Carolinians will be voting on amendment one. What will appear on our ballots is this: “Marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this state.”

It is clear to me that amendment one will harm more families than it “protects.” This amendment will cause some unmarried couples (gay and straight) and their children to lose their health care coverage. Family law professors from every law school in our state believe that the language of the amendment could cause custody issues and problems with domestic violence protections. The state attorney general agrees that this is a strong possibility. If this turns out not to be the case, it will only be established after lengthy and expensive battles in the courts. Even a framer of the amendment believes that, if it passes, it will be overturned in 20 years.

Those would be enough reasons to vote against this amendment, but they are not all of my reasons. I have lived, worked, and worshipped with gay and lesbian friends for all of my adult life, and I believe that they deserve the same rights that Mike and Atticus and I have. Far from threatening my marriage, these relationships have strengthened and supported us.

If you believe that gay marriage is wrong for our state, we can simply agree to disagree. But we are not just voting on an amendment about gay marriage. If it does not pass, gay marriage will not suddenly be legal. None of our laws will change. If it does pass, it will hurt a lot of unmarried people, gay and straight.

There are many different kinds of families in our state. I don’t understand why the kind that I am in should be the only “valid” one. And, truthfully, no amendment can invalidate a family, because families are bonded by more than just legal documents. But this amendment will take away many families’ rights and benefits, and that is wrong. Our state constitution should be amended to expand rights, not to take them away.

We are past the point where it’s okay for me to take my stand by quietly voting my convictions. I cannot tell my son that I stood by and said nothing as my friends’ rights were eroded. That’s not who I want to be as a parent and a person of faith.

I love North Carolina. I was born here and I am proud to raise my son here. I hope I can tell him that we successfully fought against amendment one because we in North Carolina care about the rights of women, of children, and of unmarried couples. We care about the rights of all families.

North Carolinians, please vote against amendment one on May 8th. Early voting continues through this week. If you haven’t yet registered, you can register and vote during early voting.

I spent weeks deciding which poem I would carry on Poem in Your Pocket Day. In the end, I settled on the first few lines of “Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann. I picked it because it says placidly. As someone whose every emotion shows on her face, I like the word placid. I strive to be more outwardly calm.

Eighty-three people brought poems to the library on Thursday. Eighty-three! I didn’t promote it as heavily this year, so I was hoping for fifty. I always love to see what the students find important enough to bring to me. Maya Angelou: “Into a daybreak that’s wonderfully clear, I rise.” Taylor Swift: “You and I’ll be safe and sound.” Langston Hughes: “Hold fast to dreams.” Justin Bieber: “Girl, you’re my one love, one heart.” Robert Frost: “Somewhere ages and ages since.” William Shakespeare: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” There were equal amounts of Chris Brown and Rihanna. One song by Kenny Rogers. Several that they wrote themselves. A student brought “Jabberwocky” because he remembered I said it’s one of my favorites.

Sharing poetry makes it come alive in ways that reading it to yourself cannot. There were shy smiles and excited eyes, the beauty of language and connection. Sometimes when they handed it to me over the desk, they told me what they like about it. They are neither dull nor ignorant, and they reminded me on Thursday how important it is to listen to their stories. Poem in Your Pocket Day is one of my favorite days of the year, and it is what is saving my life. What is saving your life this week?