Taking stock

There are a lot of cries bigger in this world than me being anxious about moving and finding a new caregiver for the kids. But it's all weighing me down. I sought peace at church this warm summer morning, and I brought Jossie with me. She held my hand with one chubby hand, and held her Minnie Mouse Lip Smacker in the other. She noted we were both wearing pretty dresses.

Church was at its best; the choir was all-women, and we sang comforting hymns. We sang my favorite hymn in fact. We had it at Jeremy's and my wedding.

For the Beauty of the Earth

For the beauty of the earth,

for the beauty of the skies,

for the love which from our birth

over and around us lies,

Lord of all, to thee we raise

this our grateful hymn of praise.

For the beauty of each hour

of the day and of the night,

hill and vale, and tree and flower,

sun and moon, and stars of light, Lord of all…

For the joy of human love,

brother, sister, parent, child,

friends on earth, and friends above,

Pleasures pure and undefiled, Lord of all…

For each perfect gift of thine

to our race so freely given,

graces human and divine,

flowers of earth and buds of heaven, Lord of all…

For thy Church which evermore

lifteth holy hands above,

offering up on every shore

Her pure sacrifice of love, Lord of all…

We packed this afternoon. As I lowered plastic boxes of Legos into a moving box, I thought I'd get Jack's thoughts. "I think these Legos are a little nervous to move, Jack," I said. "What do you think I should tell them?"

He thought for a second. "How should I know, Mom," he answered. "I don't speak Lego."

Happy week ahead, friends.

In-between

We have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?

Right now, I'm living in-between. I'm still a city dweller with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job. But a month from tomorrow, I will be a suburban mom with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job.

I grew up in the suburbs. This should not be new to me. But I've spent my adult life as a city dweller. Though I never think of myself as a city person.

I am rambling.

We are moving. To a 1908 house with a white picket fence in a lakeside community. It is a foursquare house with a smooth stucco finish. Frank Lloyd Wright fancied stucco finishes.  It it not big but it is perfect and charming. Perfectly charming. That's why Jeremy and I wrote an offer for it in the back of our broker's car the first time we saw it.
This house feels right to us. Since the offer was accepted, we've had a chance to meet the mom of the house. She clasped my hands and told me we were just the family she wanted for this house, and I told her we would take good care of it.

Our new neighborhood is full of children, and there is a park that serves as a community gathering place down the block. We can walk to Jack's school, two different business districts, the library, the grocery store, the commuter train and Northwestern football games on autumn Saturdays. Every time we visit, the realization that this is a very good idea for our family sinks in deeper and deeper.

And back in the city, I think about what we've had here. I think about it a lot and how things will change. Jack at five years old can hail a cab. Our favorite lunchtime spot after Jack's school day is in the seventh tallest building in the U.S. Jeremy and I can be home from work within an $8-cab ride. We can sit on a 4th-floor porch and take in the Chicago skyline. I know to do my errands either on a weeknight after 8 p.m. or on a weekend before 8 a.m. to avoid traffic.

In the city, we can be part of communities - work, school, church - but we can also walk down the sidewalk in the anonymity of the city. Already in our new town, I visited a preschool where the director not only knew the family we were buying from but also knew the family of the house our sellers were buying, if that makes sense.

So this is my toe-touch in May to this beloved blog of mine. More to come; I promise. Happy weekend, friends.

Common good

This week has reminded me of the hurt in our world. There’s a lot of it.

I still believe – I have to believe – that there is more good than bad in our world. Sometimes we just have to look a little harder.

Openlands, where I work, believes there is value in the common species in nature. While the rare is beautiful and important, we do not solely focus on it, which runs counter to conservation thinking. We want to connect people with nature, and nature means many different things to many different people. We recently started a program for 2nd to 5th graders that helps them identify the everyday birds in their backyard. Through the program, it’s our hopes that the schoolchildren gain an appreciation for nature, even through a humble connection to a sparrow, and someday will become conservation stewards themselves. “Common” birds are an important tool to our process.

Processing all of the news of this week, I slipped into Jossie’s room Wednesday night and picked up my sleeping toddler. I brought her back to my bed, and I pulled her close.

This act was not a protective one. It was for me; I needed to feel her good, innocent truth. The sense that I am raising Jossie and Jack in a world where Jeremy and I can keep them safe is not a given.  How can I protect this cherub who looks at me with trust as she warbles, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine”? How do I trust my prayerful requests at night to keep my family safe?

Rare are the heroes of this week – the people who ran into harm’s way to help others.  Common are the good people in our lives every day. For me this morning, it’s the drugstore manager who wears a tie and helps his customers. It’s the engineer in my office building who tries to fix a stuck door. It’s me; at least I hope it is.

Perhaps it’s time to think about how common can do rare things. I feel very blessed in my life to have all I have – a home, food, my faith, and healthy family and friends. I treat people with respect and ask for the same in return. There has to be a place for me to act.  I know in my heart that I need to act by speaking out more for the benefit of children and giving them all they deserve – confidence, a sense of value, and, above all, safety.

That is a tall order for the common. But we must start somewhere.