promises.

 

Yesterday was baptism day for our little guy.

Charlie’s great-grandma, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all there to celebrate.

It was a beautiful day, blue sky and sunshine.

God’s covenant promises to bless and protect Charlie

were the brightest part of all.

beautiful life.

Just spending this [almost] autumn night listening to the fiddle and mandolin on Prairie Home Companion, smelling my hubby’s apple pie and kissing our baby boy.

Life is so beautiful.

Our hearts are so full, thankful beyond words.

a perpetual astonishment.

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.

Margaret Atwood

Awake, thou wintry earth –
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness!

Thomas Blackburn

Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.

Ellis Peters

[arrivals and anticipations]

It’s an amazing experience to witness new life. Jackson Daniel Hobbs, my sweet nephew, was born in a quiet and peaceful room in the wee early hours of Dec. 3, 2012.

It’s so lovely to snuggle him, to smell his sweet hair and feel his soft skin. I love this little baby. In the slow arrival of winter, I am enjoying the quiet days, the chill in the air, the need to wear sweaters and boots. I am enjoying Christmas music (Ave Maria) on my record player. I am loving the anticipation of Christmas. I am enjoying not shopping for Christmas gifts (all of our families decided to skip the presenting this year, and just be together. What a sweet idea!).  I am thankful for quiet nights at home, my Mistletoe candle flickering, Pavarotti record crackling, kitty arched and yawning in front of our small fire. I am so thankful for my home, this beautiful sanctuary where we can be quiet and shut out the world. I am especially thankful for the exciting, thrilling, terrifying anticipation of our adopted baby coming home. We are trying to [patiently] wait for news on an available baby…our baby. No news yet. So, these days are passing, slowly. As we wait for our baby, we ponder the coming of the baby, our God Incarnate, the Word made flesh, the light of the world. These days, these times seem to be [in between] days. We live in a perpetual advent, in perpetual waiting for peace, for light, for things to be made right. After the horror in Connecticut, my friend Ben Katt said, “Lest we were beginning to fool ourselves, this past week has been a reminder that our Advent waiting is painful; our hoping, urgent.”  As winter arrives, the chill sets in, we grieve over horrific sadness [this week], and so we settle in and try to warm ourselves by the firelight of advent, and we anticipate. Somehow the sweet hope of what’s to come makes the waiting a bit more bearable.

starting to feel a bit like home.

(don’t think I will every abandon my love affair with blue and yellow. sigh.)

(spare room…blue!)

(this dining room still needs a ton of TLC. it’s coming, dining room, I promise.)

Just love those giant trees.

Deep breath, windows open, traveling along Pacific Coast Highway [Route 1] California with the sun on our faces….it was a sweet way to spend our summer vacation. We so enjoyed the coastal drive. I constantly scanned for dolphins, and rejoiced when they jumped for us. There’s something different about the light in California- somehow the all colors seemed brighter–the greens more alive, the blues fresh and crisp. The air smelled of the sea, and the sea breeze was a welcome companion. We loved the time to watch, listen, and breathe in the flashes of glory around us. We also totally enjoyed the California surfer scene. Our favorite part of the trip, by far, was hiking among the sheer cliffs and giant trees of Yosemite National Park. I think we’re going to make it a goal to see every U.S. National Park. We are smitten by them! I am absolutely in love with the Giant Sequoia trees. Being in Yosemite made me feel so comfortingly small.  So strong was the sense of greatness, the sense of grandeur, that it took my breath away. What a great few days we had, drinking in the majesty of creation as we spent time among those old giants. Here are [several] shots of the beautiful state of California.

Nose to the Sunrise

“Why should your majesty think it? My own plans are made. While I may, I sail East in Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I row East in my coracle. When that sinks, shall I paddle East with my four paws. Then, when I can swim no longer, if I have not yet reached Aslan’s Country, there shall I sink with my nose to the sunrise…”

Reepicheep

C.S. Lewis, Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I had rather be…

I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage with my books, my family and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post, which any human power can give.

Thomas Jefferson

 

(…except the bacon part. I’ll take bread and jam!)

far away (but not so far)

So looking forward to Thanksgiving, loving this hustle and bustle of holiday preparations (even though I’ll be working on Thursday!)…but my heart has been far away lately. I’ve been thinking of a place where food is scarce, clean water is a precious commodity, and people are bravely enduring yet another disaster. I want us to enjoy, to eat, to drink, be thankful–oh, yes, be thankful. But please, don’t forget.

I spoke to my uncle today, who just returned from Haiti. He says the crumbled buildings are lying in virtually the same places they landed in January. The tents cities aren’t getting any smaller. Cholera is spreading. He told me of the IV bags lined up at the clinic, waiting to be used.

It seems far away, but it’s not so far.

I just got mail yesterday from my dear friend  Bernadel Clarime:

“Hello Kelly ! How are you doing ? How is your family doing ? Iam doing well, my family doing well too. From day to day the Cholera give us much problem a lot of villages has it, have more than 20100 people sick and then more than 1200 people dead. Please, I would like you still help Haiti, specially me and my family in your prayer. Iam happy to write you . Sinerely Bernadel”

It’s not so far.

I need to get back there. My heart is yearning to be there, to be working, to be crying, to be seeing, to be living life with eyes open alongside my brave friends in Haiti.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for grace, thankful for family, safety, healthcare, and peace. My heart is glad for these things…but somehow, the knowledge that these people are still living in disaster, now in fear of death, fear of  illness in the water, in chaos, and bearing it bravely, as they have every other burden, every other disaster for the past several decades…this knowledge tempers my propensity to waste my time, to spend hours shopping, to whine over trivial discomforts. It makes me thankful for life. It makes me uncomfortable in a good way. It makes me remember.

Friends, happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy, be thankful…and please, don’t forget.

*(photo courtesy of Boston.com–follow the link for more difficult/raw/beautiful photographs of Haiti 10 months post-earthquake)

Delicious Autumn!

I love October.

“Delicious autumn!   My very soul is wedded to it,
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth
seeking the successive autumns.”
–   George Eliot

The chilly air, the crisp blue sky, the fresh color in everyone’s cheeks–delicious. Here are a few snapshots of our October days.

“There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on
the feelings, as now in October.”

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

“She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples,
to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last.”
–  Willa Cather

(Forgive me for all the donkey pictures. I really like this guy. He was at the orchard we visited in Warwick, NY. He’s sweet.)