Why is Teaching Easter so much harder than Christmas?

For a few seasons now, I have been somewhat challenged by just how much harder it is to explain Easter to a child than it is to communicate Christmas.  I savor every moment of Advent, have trouble sleeping nights leading up to it, waking early late November mornings to make secret preparations, all fashioned to help open my children's eyes to the mysterious wonder of Christmas, Love come down.  But Lent gets me every time.  How do I walk my children through 40 days in preparation for Christ's Passion?   It's so easy and light to prepare ourselves for His Coming.  Lent feels so heavy, too heavy for these little ones of mine.

Frederica Mathewes-Green helped shed some light on my dilemma:  "[The themes of Easter] are not things children have to think about.  Easter tells us of something children can't understand, because it addresses things they don't yet have to know:  the weariness of life, the pain, the profound loneliness and hovering fear of meaninglessness."  ("Merry Easter?", Bread and Wine:  Readings for Lent and Easter, p. 269, italics mine) 

I love that.  It gives me a little space to pace myself.  I don't have to explain all of Easter to them yet.  There will be time enough for them to be acquainted with all the sadness and darkness of that Story, and how great the Light and Life is that comes after.  For now it's okay to let alone some "things they don't yet have to know". 

Our professional

Last night Kadie asked Briana how she came to choose "planting trees" as the theme for her 7th birthday party coming up at the end of this month (a bit of a diversion from last year's swashbuckling pirate party) .  She just shrugged and answered, "Cuz I'm a professional at my own life."  Dearest daughter of mine, may you always feel that way, in some underlying sense. I love you. 

The Challenge of Naming a Child Cross-Culturally

We don't know if the little one that will be born in November is a boy or a girl, but so far we've had more fun throwing around female names. We were pretty pleased with ourselves when all 3 of us seemed to like Sabina Gaia. Sabina is easy to pronounce in Romanian and I liked the nickname "Sabi" (what Briana calls the hot green paste, "wasabi", Daddy likes to mix with soy sauce) and Dana's read lovely theological books on the concept of "gaia", the greek earth goddess, but more recently an intellectual paradigm for the gorgeous unity of the cosmos. Well all that was shot through when we ran the names by our closest Romanian friend. Apparently "Sabina" is a peasant's name (in other words, it's hick), negatively associated with uneducated, insular village life. (Perhaps akin to Bubba or Thelma Lou in the States.) And "Gaia" is part of a popular expression which means, "I'm going to kick your a_ _!"
So it's back to the drawing board.
Granted it's just one person's humble opinion (we'd be glad for other Romanians' thoughts), but for now we've scratched "I'm going to kick your hick butt!" from the list.

Experiments in Social Entrepreneurship

Not to compare our daughter with our dog, but both Briana and Augustina (our husky that was with us from 2001-2005) have been able to do much more for us socially than the fact that we have offered the free Viata Program to over 1000's of young people in this town over the past 10 years. The Viata Program rarely gets us acknowledged in this small community, but both Augi and Briana have brought numerous pleasant social encounters: conversations on the street, well-wishes, unsolicited smiles and chit-chat, shared snacks in the park and free fruit at the vegetable market. We used to talk about driving Augi around on the top of our car, just to melt the social ice that can still chill between us foreigners and the locals, and we're certain it would've been successful. Briana's lemonade stand this weekend was successful in just the same way.

Though there's probably a kid-run lemonade stand on about every corner in North America , I am certain no one has ever seen one here. Or anything remotely like it. So it was with great interest that we helped Briana proudly hang her sign on our fence (Homemade Lemonade for Sale - 5cents a cup) on Saturday and arrange her table, cash register, and cups in the front of our yard. When the first passerby approached, one of our neighbors, I coaxed Briana into approaching him and asking him if he'd like a glass of lemonade. At first he said no, I'm sure he was confused, and then he saw the sign and her little table and cash register and he somehow understood. He didn't have a penny on him so he promised to bring the money tomorrow, and appreciatively emptied his glass. I won't say the rest of the afternoon was bustling, but I think only one passerby declined, and the rest of our neighbors were great sports. We had at-length conversations with 2 neighbors we've only ever saluted, and one neighbor who had hurried by earlier in the day made it a point to come back later, after the stand had closed, insisting on buying a glass. And Briana made a killing when our 9 international volunteers showed up for a 4th of July BBQ (we weren't going to set our daughter up for complete failure...we knew she'd at least sell 9 cups that day).

It was great fun, a great learning exercise for Briana (she made the shopping list, watched videos on how to make lemonade, squeezed lemons, poured, learned how to give back change, eventually, and practiced customer-service, sort of) but most of all it was a great experience of social warmth and openness between us and our neighbors, something we don't take for granted.

Dana was trying to teach Briana the age-old adage: "If life gives you lemons..." "Make a lemonade stand," she replied. I'll drink to that.

Summer So Far

It is the eve of my 39th birthday and I just feel so grateful to be alive, to be immersed in love, to have all that I could want. Dana. Briana. And now this little bud that opens inside of me. So much more that I could say.

I wept hearing this song when I first learned I was with child. And now, it calls to me, tonight as the page turns into a new year, filling me with love and gratitude and calm.

"Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini, Hosanna in excelsis"

"Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the Highest"

Benedictus. From Karl Jenkin's "The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace."

Deja Vou

Winter is here. Again. After vacationing all of January, she decided to return. And we're glad.

The "dead" of winter -

Or so they say.

But winter lives

In her own way.

She leaves her tracks,

She shows us signs.

Not brilliant blooms,

But webs of lines.

Not sprout or splash,

But silver gray.

Winter lives

In her own way.

Icicles are winter's fingers
That form where freezing water lingers.
Icicles are winter's arrows
Pointing out the crows and sparrows.
Icicles are dragon's teeth.
They don't grow up.
They drip beneath.

Snow man.

Snow woman.

They are not real.

They are not human.

They cannot walk,

They cannot creep.

Except when humans

Are asleep.

Winter Eyes: poems and paintings by Douglas Florian.