That One Time We Went to The Nutcracker...

 

(All events are my recollection of what happened. Others in the family have their own memories about that day, but they can write it on their own blog;))

As the Christmas season unfolds, I'm realizing how much Jace is soaking in of all the excitement that comes with all things Christmas. It's making me really want to put some effort into his experiences and start some traditions with our family. The other night was the first time he sat through a whole entire movie and it was The Polar Express! I love that his first movie was a Christmas movie! I foresee making us all watch The Polar Express every year under a pile of blankets, until he's old and I'm dead.

This desire to create traditions reminds me of some of the things we did when I was younger. There are some great, warm memories but there are also some failed attempts at Christmas family fun. Like that one time we went to the Nutcracker...

The night started off with the 5 of us going out to a Thai restaurant for dinner. My brothers and I were already not amused at the idea of seeing a ballet and muttered under our breath the whole time about how we should've been going to a Sonics game instead. Possibly due to our wish of attending a sporting event, we dressed the part. As we walked into all the glamor that the Nutcracker is, with the beautiful building and everyone dressed to the nines, it was as if the turn table scratched, the party stopped and all heads swung in our direction. I was basically in sweats, Joe was in a Chicago Bulls coat and Emmi was in an LA Raiders parka. Not only were we the few 'non-white' people there, but it was as if we were dressed like street people at the Presidential Ball.

We had no choice but to carry on and so carry on we did. After climbing over elegantly dressed rich folks, we finally took our seats. Since Joe is the middle child he always ends up in the worst spot, so fate would have it that he would sit approximately one inch away from the fancily dressed, old woman next to him. She was obviously a seasoned Nutcracker goer and not a fan of us.

The show began and we were instantly confused. Mice having sword fights and men in super tight tights leaping around? My then very mature brothers not so affectionately started calling it "The Buttcracker" in honor of the skin tight outfits that showed off everything. They then read in the program that the lead ballet dude's real name was Stankov. So, it quickly turned into "Stanko Buttcracker." I'm sure the old lady was even more thrilled and loved us more than before.

As if the night wasn't already going fabulously, Joe started to feel a little sick. As he sat there watching the leaping and twirling, he started to look a little sweaty. Then a lot sweaty. He suddenly could barely hold up his body and was practically laying his head on the old woman's shoulder. In an attempt to ease his tummy, one of my parents (who will remain nameless, lest CPS gets a hold of this) decided to buy him a VERY expensive peppermint hot chocolate. As my brother seemed to get sicker and a little weirder, someone realized the peppermint was not just flavoring, it was actually Peppermint Schnapps. Unbeknownst  to the parent buyer the hot chocolate was spiked and my brother was definitely underage. We shuffled him out just in time to witness his glamorous Thai food puke fest in that fancy, gold-plated Nutcracker parking lot (okay, it wasn't gold-plated, but may as well have been). So there we were: brown, dressed like gangsters, and up-chucking on everyone's parade.

Needless to say, it was an attempt at making a tradition, that failed miserably. I'm pretty sure the Nutcracker security has all our faces on their most wanted list.

So, while I'm finding new ways to start fun family traditions with my new family, the Nutcracker hasn't been added to our list of things to try, nor probably ever will.

Because the Nutcracker has been tried, and it was too good the first time to ever try again.

When Christmas Loses its Magic

When I was growing up, Christmastime always had this magical element to it. There was just something whimsical in the air that made everyday exciting. The lights, the tree, helping mom put the ornaments on. The possibility of trading school days for snow days. The Christmas outfits and cookies for Santa. Knowing he wasn't real but still kind of hoping maybe he was. Family time, board games.Sleeping in sleeping bags out in the living room and watching Christmas movies with my brothers. There was always this cozy, secure, protective feeling the holidays brought. As if life wrapped me up in a giant-sized, holiday down comforter that I just cozied my way into and wanted to stay forever.

I don't remember how old I was, but I was still fairly young on that Christmas morning when my grandfather died. I didn't know him. He lived in India and at that point in my life I had met him twice and once was when I was too little to remember. So, my memories of him aren't many, if any. But, that Christmas morning was the very first time I saw my indestructible dad and uncle cry. It was the year Christmas kinda lost its magic and I thought it might never come back.

It took a few years before Christmas went back to the way it was, but ever since then, my heart gets a little heavy around the holidays because I know that it's not always all it's cracked up to be. This expectation of magic is hard to hold up when you're in the middle of the things of life. Pain doesn't pause when Black Friday starts. This year, I'm thinking of a friend who is celebrating his first Christmas without his dad, a wife without her husband. I'm thinking of a friend who just went through traumatic, physical pain and is learning to live and function through that. I'm thinking of friends who are watching their families fall apart and others who have shattered, broken hearts.

There is all this pressure to join in with the glamour of the 'holiday spirit' when reality might be you have to change the station when you hear "Joy to the World" because it's just so hard to find joy in your world right now--or the next carol-er at your door is gonna get punched in the nose.

And yet, the real Christmas story was not a glamorous one. A teenage mother gave birth in a barn and a king wanted to kill her baby--who happened to be the Savior of the world. The real beauty of this season is that it reminds us that grace stepped into a world of pain and suffering so we wouldn't have to endure it alone. We have a God who brings comfort and peace when Christmas lights and songs cannot.

The one who created the world didn't come with glamorous, flashing lights. He chose to come in a posture of humility and vulnerability. He created a place for all of us to fit.

So, whether this is a magical season or a difficult one---you fit beautifully in it, just as you are.

TWO.

2 years ago you were born on Thanksgiving Day. Your face is my daily reminder of all the beautiful things my heart is constantly whispering its thanks for. It was 2 years ago when we first got to look into each other's eyes as I cried my happy tears and you cried your first sounds. But, I feel like I've known you forever. You can't possibly just have 2 years tethered to my 28. You were a part of me long before and seeing your face just breathed life into the gaps of me that were waiting for your air.

I'm so proud of you, Jace. As I see you shed your baby face and grow into that little boy body my heart beams with pride and cracks just a little because I know my days of scooping you into my lap won't be forever.

But, I love who you are and who I see you becoming. This little boy who loves people. You pay attention to them--the things they like, the things they do, even the color of their eyes. And you remember those things for the next time you see them. Don't lose that. Someday, people will love and appreciate you for looking into their eyes and taking the time to care about who they  really are. You aren't a surfacey person, you are interested in depth. You are full of compassion. You say hi to everyone at the grocery store and give them your real smile, the one that paints across your whole face. You proved to be a great international traveler and loved all things India. You love sports and make boy grunts and wrestle with your dad, but you also sing "Jesus Loves Me", you remind us to pray, you love babies, and you kiss mommy's forehead when she doesn't feel well. You're the perfect blend of all things wonderful.

Buddy boy. As we take another trip around the sun, I can say this will be a big year for us. It's been quite a joy to have you all to ourselves. One little guy to give our heart and soul and attention to. One little guy for all our kisses and bed time stories. But, this year, you will become a big brother. And all these things that were only yours you will be sharing. I can't tell you how excited I am to think of you with your own friend for life.One of the first thoughts that came to me when I found out I was pregnant was your face. Tears filled my eyes as my heart burst knowing all the joy that was coming your way. Though it may be hard at first, this is going to be one of the best things to happen to you. Having 2 older brothers and cousins (who were more like sisters) I know.They are my only 'friends' that are in all my memories growing up and in all my visions of the future-- truly lifelong. I can't wait for you to experience that. All the inside jokes only you guys will get, all the weird, quirky things that will tie you together and make you laugh. All the things in life you will endure together and lean on each other through. It will be unlike anything you could have ever hoped for.

Til then, you get us all to yourself and I am cherishing these last few months of your only child days.

We're still dancing between the galaxies and playing hopscotch among the stars, but every day it's all getting a little brighter and our universe is looking more marvelous.

Happy number 2, baby boo. I love you more than you'll ever know.

On Earth As it is in Heaven

There are certain moments in life when heaven softly falls down and covers the earth you are standing on, like a blanket of snow. 

Those moments range from things like saying goodbye to a loved one for the last time, welcoming a new child onto the earth, standing in a torrential downpour in the mountains of Mexico, or even a stranger offering to help you change your tire. 

Regardless of the gravity of the situation, these moments can never leave you the same because suddenly, the same isn't quite good enough. When you've realized the ground your feet are kissing is actually Holy Ground, your world demands a sudden change. 

When I was in India, this very thing happened to me. We were in a little village called Bendigeri. The moment we stepped foot on that soil my lungs exchanged earthly air for heaven's. 

The children there overwhelmed me. With not many "things", according to my western standards, I learned so much from the love radiating from their hugs and smiles and laughter. From their kindness to strangers, like the little girl who offered me her bed if I wanted to stay to their hard work ethic in the scorching heat as they made bricks. I learned quickly that they didn't need a lot of "things" to enjoy the lives they were given. 

Since the moment we left, I haven't been able to shake them. Their faces light up the warmest memories in my heart. They gave me so much in my few hours with them that have changed my lifetime, I can't not give them something back. Here are a few of the many who left their mark:

This is Kavita. She is in the 5th grade and is 11 years old. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father remarried and left Kavita in her grandmother's home, while he moved on with his new family. Since then, her grandmother has been taking care of her, but is now unable to work due to her age and health. Kavita and her grandmother are currently struggling to make ends meet and afford basic needs such as hygiene products and school supplies.

This is Yeshawanth. He is in the 5th grade and is 11 years old.

He has one older sister and one younger sister. His father is blind so his mother is working in agriculture to support the family. She makes very little money and is struggling to provide basic needs for her family as well. 

This is Deepa. She is in the 4th grade and is 10 years old. She has an older sister in 7th grade and a younger brother who is 3 years old. Her father did electrical work and in 2001 he fell from an electrical pole and hurt his leg very badly. He has not been able to work ever since. Her mother is now responsible for taking care of the whole family and doesn't make very much money. They are also struggling to afford basic needs. 

This is Prashant. He is 16 years old and is mentally disabled. His father had a heart attack while he was driving and passed away. His mother is now alone, working as a daily labor worker and is earning very little money. She is having a hard time paying for the extra care and treatment he needs.

This is Nagamma. She is 24 years old. Her father hanged himself and since then, her mother had been taking care of her. Nagamma is now studying for her Bachelors of Education, but her mother has been diagnosed with Tuberculosis. She is now struggling to continue her education because her money and time are going towards taking care of her mother.

These are just a few of the many people in the village who are struggling to get by. On top of that, their church/school/only real "building" in the village was destroyed by a flood.

Jesus has been so kind to stir up this passion in me and then to give me the opportunity to plug up this hole in my heart and DO something about it. My MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group has decided to take up Bendigeri as our International Service Project this year. We have contacts over in India to send money to that will buy the kids who are in need: school supplies, hygiene products, possibly a keyboard since the kids love learning worship music but don't have a keyboard, and possibly help to fix their community's church, depending on how much money is raised. 

With the holidays coming up, it's the best time to look at all we, our friends, family and children have been blessed with. It's a good time to give up coffee once a week and give that money to someone who might be in need or to encourage our kids to set aside allowance money to bless others. We can show them pictures and stories or take them to places where they can understand how blessed their lives are and how they can bless others. I know there are plenty of local places that take donations like clothes, food, time, or money. Choose one that tugs on your heart strings. But, let's start being intentional with what we've been blessed with and and intentional with our little generation as we instill in them the joy and privilege of giving--not just taking.





So, before you make your wish list and get lost in all the hustle and bustle of the holidays, let's remember how much more there is in what we give! Let's be a part of doing His will...on earth as it is heaven. 

If anyone is interested in donating to this little place in India that has stolen my heart, email me at lisahanchinamani03@yahoo.com or send me a Facebook message! They would appreciate any amount of money you can give.

Some of the kids in the village 

The church/school before it was damaged by the flood

Young boys helping make bricks

Conquering a Milestone

There are a few milestones in life that I have been terrified of ever since I was little. My driver's license test (I failed the first time and still can't parallel park, so should have stayed at failure status, but I fooled someone at the DMV, so joke's on them). My SAT's (been there done that, no one cares). Getting my wisdom teeth pulled (they are still there, I'm still scared, this is well overdue, might need an intervention). Giving birth (rightfully so). Being pregnant while having a toddler.

I'm currently living one of the very things I've been afraid of all my life.  And it. is. scary.

I am Miserable with a capital M. I throw up at any given hour of the day and if I'm not throwing up I'm wishing I am throwing up or wishing I am unconscious. I can't even describe to anyone who doesn't know this feeling, what it's all about. It's unlike anything in life. I mean imagine if someone threw you into the bottom of a boat or strapped you into the world's worst roller coaster and said "Goodbye. This is your new life for the next 3+ MONTHS. Oh and we're throwing a toddler in with you." But, it's 10 TIMES WORSE. It's unlike anything comparable to anything. And the heartburn! The heartburn that keeps you up all night long because it literally feels like your esophagus has caught on fire and it takes everything in you not to call the fire department to bring all their hoses and put this thing OUT OF MY MISERY.

The worst is when I hear other moms say how they never got sick. Pregnancy was so glowy and beautiful and lovely. In what world?! Sign me up! I want that pregnancy. I mean, I feel like I am actually Eve in the garden and I am receiving the full wrath of childbirth pains solely on me. It's good I don't believe in reincarnation or I'd have to believe I was a seriously awful person in some other life.

And my body. I just recently lost all my baby weight and then some. And now here we are. 3 months in and I already have a "bump" the size of a basketball. Every thing feels uncomfortable except for Owen's sweats. I just fit back into my skinny skinny jeans and now I'm back into MEN'S sweats?! I mean. Do I get to catch any breaks at all?

And then there's Jace. God Bless Jace. He's a good kid. But, when I was pregnant with him I just slept every chance I got. Now. I can't. Because of him. He's here now, out in the world, and so I must entertain him. Poor Jace's life consists of the iPad, and granola bars, and mommy laying on the couch pretending to watch him play but really taking 2 second naps every time he's not looking.

It's just. SO HARD to be ALIVE.



And then this.

We saw this. And we saw a flickering heartbeat. And it became real. Because one time I saw this.

And it became this.

And my world was never the same again.

A human is growing inside my body and every second cells are forming and creating and designing a baby that will change our lives and our world forever. This baby will make Jace a big brother and Owen and I parents of 2 and the thought makes my heart so wildly and insanely happy.

Well, that I can confidently say, makes conquering this terrifying milestone so worth it.

So, baby. Whatever you're doing in there to make me sick, I'll let it slide, because I'm counting on you to shine your light into the spaces of our hearts that we haven't even discovered yet.

And really, I'm just so honored that I get to be your mama. It makes everything else pale in comparison.

Even the puke.

(And no, the irony is not lost on me that my previous post was about not complaining and enjoying each moment of life.)

In this Moment

I woke up this morning feeling grateful. Grateful for my husband, my baby, our warm cozy house, the food we were going to eat for breakfast, the cars that had gas in them, the huge family I hung out with last night that I get to experience love and laughs with. I was breathing in the fresh air of gratitude. But, not all mornings are like this. Some mornings are spent annoyed that there are dishes in the sink, or that Jace won't eat his breakfast, or that my master bathroom isn't a little bigger, or my house doesn't look like a Pottery Barn catalog. Some days I waste. Because I'm too busy complaining to see that my fortress is made out of greatness.

Every moment we get on earth is our last of that very moment. Every breath, every hour, will be gone as soon as it came. And though it seems like life is long and there's always tomorrow, it's not true. There's not always tomorrow, and in the grand scheme of things 80 to 90 years isn't much compared to eternity.  We get one shot. Just one. How often are we wasting our moments being selfish, feeling entitled, comparing, being angry, wanting more, giving less?

In one of the book's I'm reading right now, the author says if your household makes $35,000 a year you are in the top 4% for wealth in the world. $50,000? Top 1%. If you're reading this and live in America you have a very different human experience than most of the world. We have so much stuff. And yet we are constantly being told we need more. If we can't be grateful for what we have right now, we can't live in real joy, it doesn't exist without gratitude.  If we are constantly waiting to obtain something more, we will never be truly happy in the present.

Technology has been a big contributor to us wanting more, but has also given us the ability to take ourselves out of our present. With all the ways we are bombarded by information through TV, the Internet, our phones and our apps, we are more and more slipping into a false world and are less and less connected to our very present, real world. Joy also can't exist in moments that we aren't even in.

I've been thinking about the village kids in India a lot lately. Thinking about how much delight were on the faces of kids who had never seen much 'stuff' in their lives. They understand what it's all about. Living in bliss doesn't come from having a lot of things, it comes from being aware and thankful for this present moment, because just being in it is enough. I've been thinking of that little girl who offered me her bed in case I wanted to stay with them. How can someone who has pretty much nothing to offer, be able to offer so much? It's because it was not out of duty, but out of a heart overflowing.

I want that. I want to live like her. To love this moment so much that I can reach out and love a stranger like that. To not be consumed with the things I don't have, but to be overwhelmed by things I do have. To not be entitled to my possessions or my love, but to be willing to give them away to whoever might be in need. To not look at myself as just a little girl with nothing to offer, but to offer the world whatever it is I have to give.

And I need to remember to smile. There may have been language barriers, but I won't forget any of those smiles. I think it would have been a very different experience if I had been walking around watching these kids be upset and hating that they were working in 100 plus degree heat, or that they were running around on the hot ground with no shoes on, or that their clothes were dirty and ripped. It changed my life to see the sheer happiness radiating from their faces. To me, their circumstances seemed less than ideal. To them, it was another day to be grateful. Another day to taste real joy.

I want this for myself, for my family, for my friends. I'm trying to learn to quiet the voice that tells me it's never enough, and appreciate the here and the now, which is always enough.

This big, beautiful life offers so much more to appreciate than to criticize.

So, that's what I'm going to do.

Live in real joy.

And real joy,

lives right now,

in this very, present moment.

Real Talk: Perfectly Imperfect

It all started when we were asked if we would be interested in doing a photo shoot for a book that's being published next year. I imagined the 3 of us dressing up really cute and posing next to burned down barns or running through fields of sunflowers, or doing something whimsical.

On Sunday, I got an email to schedule the shoot and found out that on Thursday, a photographer would be in our HOUSE from 2 pm until Jace's bedtime taking pictures of us 'living our daily lives' including, but not limited to, pictures of me jogging with Jace in the stroller. In the sun. While I'm sweating. Documented in a book. For the rest of time as I know it.

Ok, so Sunday starts panic mode. Sleepless nights. Crazy dreams. Like I had a dream that all of Jace's shoes were in the garbage can and so the photographer took pictures of me fetching his dirty garbage shoes out of the dirty garbage can and putting them on my child's feet. And I was mortified because I knew that everyone was going to see that Jace wears dirty shoes from garbage cans.And my mom was going to disown me. And this was a night. mare. Like, I woke up sweating and my heart was racing and I couldn't go back to sleep in fear of what my evil subconscious was going to stir up next.

I just felt so much pressure. I needed to tidy up our 'daily lives'.

So, whenever Owen leaves for work in the morning, Jace gets so sad and doesn't want him to leave and sometimes clings onto Owen's leg and cries. But, for some reason, when Owen gets home from work Jace runs away screaming! We can't figure it out but he needs like 5 minutes to warm up, it's like he's mad at him for leaving. So anyway, I just had this picture in my head of the photographer ready to take sweet 'welcome home, daddy' pictures but instead gets Jace running away screaming 'NOOOooooooooo!!!' So all week, the hour before Owen got home we practiced "what do we say when daddy gets home? We say, 'YAYYYY, DADDY!!!'" It worked. I trained him like a little monkey.

Then there's the house. I scrubbed every inch of the house. My window sills were polished with wood spray stuff I never knew I had! We got a picture for our dining room wall that has lived bare for the 2 years we've lived here. I took the leaves out of our dining table to make it look like it was for a small family instead of for the United States Army, and I made sure we all sat together as a family for dinner all week instead of Jace in his high chair, me at the counter and Owen eating while pacing around the kitchen.

I bought flowers for MYSELF. I never have ever bought flowers for my house. I don't even like when Owen buys me flowers. What girl doesn't like her husband buying her flowers, you ask? A practical one! I'd rather he spent $20 on a shirt for me than flowers. Buying the flowers was somewhat of a challenge because there were barely any options in the $6 range I was willing to pay. But, I found some. I got to the cash register and the clerk said 'these green flowers are so pretty!' They're green? I thought they were white! I bought green flowers? Are they weeds? Did I buy weeds for my table? But, I did it, I bought flowers for our dining table and I have to say I love them there. I wish they were fake so they didn't have to leave me.

As I dotted all my i's and crossed all my t's I sent a picture of practically every clothing item I owned to my cousins and sister-in-law to pick out the right 'casual at home shirt'. They all told me to calm."I mean, is the photographer really gonna take pictures of your windowsills? And maybe having some imperfections will allow others to feel the freedom to be imperfect."

That hit the core of my heart for 1/10th of a second. But, then I decided I was not going to let myself be the poster child of imperfection. Someone else could be a martyr. Not I. So, perfection it was.

Thursday morning, my sweet, little boy woke up with the snottiest nose and was a crazy, cranky, temper tantrumy ball of mess. Why? Why me? Why NOW? He usually wakes up with the biggest smile and so happy to see us. Nope. Of course not the day that will be documented for the rest of eternity. Perfection was now out of my control.

Ok, so the day happened. It was fine. We lived. We actually had fun and the photographer was really nice and it was easier to be normal than I thought it would be. We didn't have to fake it through. And when Jace screamed for rice at dinner and refused his enchiladas, I didn't even care. Because perfection, it doesn't exist. At least not for us.

Imperfection. It's so underrated. What a boring world perfection would be. I like our little world the way it is. We've got real. We've got raw. We've got messy.  And a whole lot of love.

We are perfectly imperfect.

It's the best we've got.

And it's completely enough.

(But, if someone's going to come take pictures of our imperfect, there are some things that are completely acceptable to fix first! Right?)

Our new artwork and green flowers:)