To Teach a Child

So much of our understanding of life and how it works is colored by our knowledge or presuppositions. For instance, death. You and I know about this. We understand what death is and how it affects us. Sometimes we can kind of understand the omnipresent aspect of God’s nature, or His realness without being seen. Here’s another humdinger–try reading a story to a two-year old about a bear that eats the mean fox. This makes the fox gone. And it probably hurts…And by the way, babies? Inside their moms? Don’t even get me started.

I’m discovering that it’s much more complicated to teach Violet certain facts of life than I anticipated. I knew she would come to me with no knowledge or understanding other than instinctual, but I didn’t really understand what that would look like. I am also noticing that things that I find hard to believe or understand are not necessarily difficult for her. Maybe I over-complicate them when I explain because they seem so preposterous to me. Not preposterous…just requiring a great deal of faith. Who is God? What does He look like? Where is He? How is He everywhere at the same time? For me to understand these things requires faith, which comes preciously small and hard-won to me–like a tiny jar-full that I keep closed when walking so it doesn’t spill. Violet on the other hand, comes chock-full of faith to make up for her lack of knowledge. The difference seems proportionate. With this in mind, I have to be careful not to let my lack of faith sap her spiritual strengths when I’m clumsily trying to explain something hard. Not “lack of faith” but perhaps just a much more desperate need for faith.

That’s the beautiful thing about a child at Christmas. We celebrate the virgin birth of the child of God. We celebrate sinless God becoming flesh and living among us. We celebrate angels appearing as God’s messengers, we celebrate in the preparation for Christmas and remember how the world longed for a Savior. We celebrate the choice of His sacrifice and the gift of His sinless life.

So many beautiful “teachable moments” in this season. Now, just the grace to teach them.


Double Trouble

Henry’s ability to get into things in the past couple of days has increased tremendously. All of a sudden he is crawling much faster and also starting to pull himself up on things. This means that I have snatched him off the stairs several times lately, and also he finds it his daily chore to empty the lowest bookshelf. No longer is moving around about the journey–now it’s all about the destination.

This evening I made a huge batch of cinnamon rolls for a cookie exchange tomorrow. I know, cinnamon rolls for a cookie exchange? You would too if you had the recipe for the worlds absolute best magically incredible cinnamon rolls. This recipe comes courtesy of The Pioneer Woman, and deserves a little look-see on your part. Trust me. There is no way possible that your cinnamon rolls are better. I hate to sound like a jerk about this, but I just don’t think it’s humanly possible. If you try her recipe and think yours is better, then this will be earth-shattering to me, and I must know. Here is that recipe. Make these for Christmas Morning.

Anyway. So, as I was making these I had Violet sitting on the counter beside me and Henry¬† in the front pack. Henry drools a lot and Violet is always panicking over the amount and location of his drool. That’s why I didn’t pay her much attention as she kept saying “Oh no! That!” while I was making the cinnamon rolls. It wasn’t till I was done with the gadzillion rolls and unhooked the squirming boy from the front pack that I realized that the whole time he had been helping himself to all the ooey gooey goodness that comes with cinnamon rolls and was therefore covered in butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Oops.


Feelin’ the Love…

I just got an email from wordpress telling me about a new email subscriber. It said, “…their email address is blahblahblah, and it appears they are from nigeria.”

No, it wasn’t really “blahblahblah.”

Nigeria. Greaaaaaatttt.

While I sit here, my husband is undergoing a rite of passage. He is building a dollhouse from a kit in time for its Christmas morning unveiling. This is the dollhouse of my dreams. Even if Violet doesn’t completely love it, that won’t really be a bad thing because that just means more time for me to play with it. Seriously. It’s 1:12 scale, so it’s pretty big…maybe 2-2 1/2 feet tall. I will post some pictures up here pretty quick but it still isn’t finished yet.

I love how the online description was “minor parent assembly required.” If by “minor” you mean all of it!

He’s screwing in a staircase right now. This is pretty much the cutest he’s looked all day.


That Thing You Do

Dear Stillaguamish River,
You need to go on a diet.

Yay for living in an area where you either live in a flood plain, or you have to drive through one. Yes, it’s that time of year again. Parties for hosting, marshmallows are toasting, and caroling out in the snow…wait, that’s a song. Let’s see…Sandbags are rising, the flood waters–surprising, and rowboats are out on the road…
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
There’ll be much mistltoeing,
And hearts will be glowing
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
With the kids jingle belling,
And everyone telling you “Don’t-drive-over-covered-roadways-because-that’s-how-the-majority-of-flooding-deaths-occur,”
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
It’s the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and emergency-support meetings,
When friends come to call and-help-you-sand-bag-your-house…
It’s the hap- happiest season of all!


Pearl+Primo’s Pear Pasta=Perfection

I suppose I should clarify–it wasn’t just the pear gorgonzola ravioli that was perfection. Today we went out to lunch at Primo in Seattle. Primo is a new Italian restaurant that my cousin Max opened just three months ago. I know–you already think I’m biased. It’s hard not to be. Did I mention yet that one of my little brother’s works here as a chef?¬† Plus, my cousin and my brother are both adorable, so it’s hard not to like them. I already knew that. What I didn’t know (or was dubiously unsure of) was whether or not they really knew their stuff when it comes to good Italian food. I mean, I’ve eaten pizza in Italy. I should stop before I start to ramble, and also because I think pictures can speak louder than words when it comes to food.

Now that you’re hungry, please do me a favor. Go to Primo. The ingredient quality is outstanding, the prices are very reasonable, and the chandelier is amazing.

Check out the menu on their website and “like” them on facebook to hear about specials.



1106 8th Avenue, (between Seneca and Spring)

Seattle, WA 98101



Childhood: Just when you think it’s going to last forever, it’s gone. That’s how I remember mine anyway. Actually saying that in the past-tense makes me stop and re-realize that it’s over. I should know that by now, right? Right. Maybe that would explain why I have such a hard time getting out of bed to beautify someone else’s childhood every day.

Just like the sunrise, childhood is the shortest part of the day.

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