Not being silent

I went on my first "mission trip" during spring break of my freshman year of college.  We spent the week in Washington, DC volunteering in various locations around the city to serve those in need.  It was the first time I saw poverty up close and I was heartbroken.  We spent time every night talking about what we had done and seen and learned that day, and at the end of the week I remember another person in the group (a senior who seemed infinitely wiser than me) commenting at how much empathy she had seen in me during that week as my eyes had been opened.  She even gave me a Dietrich Bonhoeffer book to help me continue to learn and reflect theologically on what I had learned.  I had never thought of myself in that way but it's a characterization that has stuck with me.

I share all of that to say that sometimes I feel other people's pain deeply and lately the thing that I have been feeling most deeply and that I feel I can no longer be silent about is race relations in our country.  If you want to roll your eyes and/or stop reading right here, I understand.  I don't want to preach at anyone and not everyone wants to engage in this discussion.  But I can't stay silent anymore, so if you are interested in this issue, stay with me.

A couple years after that mission trip, Hubby T and I took several African-American history classes.  They were taught by the best professor either of us ever had and gave us a broader understanding of what has happened to African-Americans in our country, things that were barely, if ever, discussed in our k-12 history classes.  Although that education is now ten years old, it has framed our understanding of the new civil rights movement that has been emerging in the past couple years.  It has informed our awareness that the grievances being raised by the Black Lives Matter movement are justified and it is long past time for them to be addressed by our country.

I do not want to tell anyone what they should think, but I do think that we all have a responsibility to educate ourselves because this is a democracy, this is God's Kingdom - we are all in this together.  So if you are interested in engaging in this issue, here are a couple things I have found thought provoking.

1. This article draws a parallel between a Biblical story and the ideas of white privilege and white blindness.  If you don't care about the Bible part, skip to the second half of the article.  The point is that those most of us who are white have no understanding of what it means to experience life as a black person.  And I think this understanding is really important, which leads me to my second point.

2. Hubby T and I also read the book mentioned in this article, Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates, this summer and I found it agonizing (remember my aforementioned empathy).  The pain and injustice he has experienced in his life is horrifying to me.  No one should have to live that way.  And yet so many do.

3. This is the most important thing I have read.  This is what I did not have the wisdom or courage to write myself.  But I stand with the author in confessing my sin, that I am a racist, and in hoping that, with God's help, this is something we can change about ourselves and our society.

If you have made it this far into this post, thank you for being willing to sit with me in this uncomfortable issue, even if just for a moment.  If you want to sit with me longer, I would welcome conversation with you.  Because I don't know what else to do.  I don't live in a diverse community, I don't worship in a diverse community, and the places close to me that are diverse I am scared to go to.  I am praying for a way forward.  So for now I offer this, just words, to testify that I see that there are problems and I am part of the problem and I want to see change.  

Down by the Riverside

Something amazing happened this morning.  I knew that the church I worked at over the summer was going to focus on remembering the events of 9/11 in their morning services.  I didn't have any specific expectation that my home church, which I finally returned to this morning, would do the same.  But I did not expect my Episcopal church to fill our souls with toe tapping, hand clapping African American spirituals.  This was our opening hymn...

"I'm gonna lay down my sword and shield,
down by the riverside...
I ain't gonna study war no more,
I ain't gonna study war no more..."

Those words about war were the chorus.  We sang them over and over.  Not only is it strange to sing about studying war in a sanctuary, it was jarring to do so on September 11.  It seems impossible to say that I'm going to stop studying war.  Our country is still fighting the war that started that day.  This is not something we can just walk away from (nor do I think this song is saying we should).

What was amazing is the liberation I found in the words of this song within the context of this day.  We are still painfully and deeply entrenched in our post 9/11 world.  But the promise of God is that we won't stay here!  Someday we will indeed lay down our swords and shields.  We will stop studying war.  And the power of this music brought the joy of that day into my heart.  I felt alive in God and in the promise of God's redemption of the world.

My heart goes out to all of those who spent today mourning.  The sadness of that day will always be a part of all of us who lived through it and remembered it.  But our story does not end there, as our final hymn can attest...

"What a fellowship,  what a joy divine,
leaning on the everlasting arms.
What a blessedness, what a peace of mind,
leaning on the everlasting arms...  

Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms,
Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms..."

First Day of Kindergarten

Do you remember your first day of kindergarten?  I don't.  Hubby T doesn't.  So in case Little B wants to remember his first day of kindergarten in future years, here it is, in his own words.  No kidding friends, these are direct quotes.

I know that my guy is a "natural born winner" but I needed to make sure his teacher did too!

Love this kid!

"After I got off the bus today, I walked down the hall to my classroom.  Then I got my name tag.  Then after I learned some stuff in my classroom, I went on a little tour of the school.  Next I came back to my classroom for a little bit and then I went out to recess.  After that I came back in.  I got packed up and I went to computer class, which did not turn out well.  After that I came back down to get my backpack.  Then I sat under my bus number.  Then I walked to the cafeteria to board the bus.  The end."

Mommy's clarifying questions:
Q: What did you learn in your classroom? 
A: "She told me about the bathroom and they have a water fountain there.  And she told us about classroom dojo.  And then that's all the questions I will answer."

Walking to the bus stop

Here comes the bus!

There he goes!!

Mommy's P.S.: My perspective at the end of today was that Little B felt good heading onto the bus and felt good coming off, so all in all a successful first day.  Also, when taking pictures this morning, he suggested making a silly face, which resulted in the picture below, which I suspect a certain aunt will enjoy:)

"Aunt KP, this is for you!"

Another day in paradise

Anyone remember this song from Phil Vassar?  It came on the radio as I was driving home tonight, and I smiled as I remembered loving this song when it originally came out, in 2000, when I was in high school.  Somehow even then I knew that what the song described, this crazy life of loving a spouse and raising kids and trying to make it all work, was the life that I wanted.  And today felt like one of those days.

For those who live in our area, Wintherthur will have "Terrific Tuesday" programs running through the end of this month and it is a great activity!  It's a great price to get your family in and the programming they had, centered around the Sundial Garden today, was great.  The boys made sundials to take home, designed their own sundial gardens based on Mr. duPont's original instructions, made a bath fizzy concoction (not sure what that had to do with sundials), made photographs using UV rays, played a pollinator game, and talked to a climatologist.  And that was all before we even got to the main grounds!

Watching the sun do its photography thing

We brought Little B here years ago before there even was a Little P.  Remember this?

Such a little Little B!!

Well, we do because this picture is in our family scrapbook.  So when I found out we could get in on the discounted price today, I was able to give the boys a visual reminder of where we were going, and despite the fun programs in the educational center, they couldn't wait to get to the Enchanted Woods, a fairy-tale garden with a make-believe description of each play spot...

Disappearing through the mist to fairy land

"Mom, I climb on the stones, ok?"  "No, not ok!"

Can't you just hear him grunting as he pumped?

Checking for trolls under the troll bridge.  He wasn't home.

And then, as if I hadn't exhausted us all enough by walking around for three hours straight this morning, I met Hubby T after he got off work, handed off the kids, and went into my work for two and a half hours.  And yet as I walked out, dead on my feet and starving for dinner I thought, "I love this work that I'm doing!"

Everybody's paradise looks different.  Everybody's paradise doesn't always feel like paradise.  But today, I'm grateful for mine!

And because I just can't resist, here's the blooper picture:)

Seasons of love

1,801 miles and 10 days later, we are home from vacation!  Although many are celebrating the 4th of July today with bbq's and fireworks, for me it somehow it doesn't get more American than packing the car to the gills with beach toys, food, luggage, and kids and spending a week playing at the beach.  (Also, very relieved to have un-stuffed the car's gills and be settled back at home!)

While nobody needs a good reason to spend vacation at the beach, this trip revolved around several special occasions, including Hubby T's grandparents 60th and his parents 35th wedding anniversaries. As we drove off the island on Saturday morning, heading home after a great week of fun in the sun, the song "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent popped into my head, not because the song particularly relates to the week but the phrase does.  The season of love that Hubby T's grandparents are in is truly beautiful, being surrounded by and reflecting on the fruits of 60 years of labor and love.

Yiayia and her first grandchild

The season of love that Hubby T's parents are in is beautiful and awesome in its own ways.  They shared a villa with my four, and sometimes I couldn't help but think that they put in their time for years and deserved to have a quiet vacation room to themselves.  But Mom-Mom's love for her grandsons knows no bounds, so hopefully they didn't mind the pitter patter of little feet early every morning!

Chasing Mom-Mom on her bike

And then there's Hubby T's and my season of love.  We're celebrating nine years of marriage later this week, and are solidly in the season of living the reality of the thing we wanted most, children.  I won't deny that we had our moments of jealousy watching everyone else being able to relax by the pool or at the beach whenever they wanted, or sleeping in as long as they wanted.  Instead our lives were dictated, as usual, by these little guys.  And as much as little kids make vacation hard, I wouldn't trade them for anything.

On top of the lighthouse, 129 steps!

This picture pretty much sums up our vacation.  We all smiled and had plenty of fun, but a fair bit of wrangling was involved.  Despite their reluctant appearance in this picture, the boys did have a ball.  Their season of love, at least for this past week, was defined by early mornings to themselves on the beach, exploring the sand bar for hermit crabs, splashing in the pool, listening to books, watching Zootopia too many times to count in the car, and being overly tired for dinner every night.  I know they probably won't remember much from this trip, especially Little P.  But I do know that the time they spent with their extended family, who all overflow with love for them, is building them up so that they are confident taking their next steps in the world, however soon or not soon they come...  (Somebody tell me we don't have to do back to school shopping yet!)   

 Seasons of love friends, keep trying to treasure them all.

Keeping above the water

Little B is in the middle of a two week learn to swim boot camp.  Never before have I had to say the exact same thing to the question of, "Where are we going today?" for two weeks in a row.  The monotony is starting to wear on all three of us a bit but we're pushing through because my little man is old enough and strong enough to be safe in the water on his own, which is what this program promises to accomplish.  So every morning this week Baby P and I have crowded into the bleachers of the natatorium, along with countless other parents and siblings, to watch our kids be lifted up by their teachers and then promptly dropped into the water.  It sounds cruel but they say the kids will learn to find their way to the surface when challenged to.  So I sit and watch, knowing that sometimes as a mom you just have to swallow the desire to protect your kids and let them learn on their own.  I know that Little B is not loving it, but he's also not quitting, not protesting (too much) and so I'm proud of him.  For whatever reason, he's willing to push through to achieve the greater goal.  (And fingers crossed the willing attitude continues through the end of the program!)

Marching in to his preschool graduation - one proud little boy!

I can relate.  The best metaphor for my life right now also related to water.  I imagine myself moving along in a pretty swiftly moving river, and most of the time, with a good bit of effort, I'm keeping my head above water.  But a couple times a week I feel myself sinking under and have to fight to get back up.  And it is hard work.  Summer is supposed to be relaxing right?  My school is off.  Preschool is off.  Hubby T gets off work half an hour early everyday.  My initial worry about this summer was that we wouldn't have enough to do.  Now I fear I'll be more exhausted at the end of the summer than at the beginning.  Why?  Because I got myself a part-time summer job.  It's 10-15 hours a week (i.e. manageable, with some maneuvering, while caring for the kids) working for the children's ministry program at a semi-local Presbyterian church.  When I went in to interview, my inherent excitement and enthusiasm for Christian education shone through, without my even thinking about it, so I felt reassured that this is work that is important for me to do.  But now I find myself, very unexpectedly and very quickly, wrestling my way through the transition from stay at home mom to working mom.

First s'mores of the season

Now I recognize that I may sound a bit dramatic.  I know this is a temporary change of identity (at least for now) and I'm only gone from home two mornings of the week.  I am in no way abandoning my kids or my house/yard work or my husband.  But man oh man it sure feels that way sometimes.  I hate having to tell Little B that I can't play with him in the afternoon because I have to get work done.  I hate having my mind pulled in different directions when an email comes in about work right when the boys are clamoring to be fed lunch.  I hate thinking about what life will be like when I do go back to work on a more full-time, permanent basis.  If it's this hard now, what will it be like then?!  I hate wondering if the work I will be doing will even be effective (much bigger issue to tackle another time).  So why am I putting myself through this?  Why put myself in a position to be lifted up and dropped in the water where I can't stand?  Why not just cling to the side of the pool and rest?

Joyously anticipating what is to come

Because I believe in this calling God put in my life.  Whether I like it or not, I enjoy doing this work and think it's important.  And because as much as I would love to permanently be a stay at home mom and just tend to my little flock, God asks us to do more.  And this part-time summer job is another step down the road of me doing more.  It's an example I want to set for my kids, to serve others and to follow God's calling in your life.  It's the work I feel I am meant to do.  So I'll keep struggling to find my way back up to the top, just as Little B is.  I just pray that it gets a little easier, with this season of practice.  And I pray for grace for all the water I'll be splashing on the people around me as I figure it out.   

Considering the love of neighbor

I don't usually get political on this blog, but I read some things last week that have stuck in my mind long enough that I think they are worth sharing.  However the transgender bathroom issue makes you feel, I don't think it's a conversation that's going away, so here is some food for thought.  Both of the posts below are written by individuals who are strongly invested in the repercussions of these policies, both are writing from a place of fear, and yet their opinions are vastly different.         

http://thefederalist.com/2015/11/23/a-rape-survivor-speaks-out-about-transgender-bathrooms/#.VyNz_rvov74.facebook

http://christiancentury.org/blogs/archive/2016-04/restrooms-gender-and-fear

What does it look like, in this situation, to love your neighbor?  I think I know what my answer would be, how about you?

Guest post by Little B

To take advantage of a beautiful spring morning, we spent some time outside today.  I took a bunch of pictures because I have been slacking on that front lately, and on the way I home I had the inspired idea to ask Little B to "write" the post for me!  What a great literary educational opportunity right?!  As you will see, it turns out that five year olds, at least mine, are not terribly e-articulate!  Maybe a couple years from now I will try again:)

We went to the Delaware Nature Society and read a story.  And I scratched my foot.

Then we were in the water part.  We saw a froglet (like me!)

Back to the editor.  I had to add this last picture because, well, this face just gets me:)  Say cheese!

Crowdsourcing

Due to unusual circumstances surrounding my seminary's academic calendar, I have been working for three semesters straight now with hardly any time to breathe between them.  So you would think that after sending in my final paper last week, I would take a big sigh of relief, kick up my feet, and find a new show to binge watch on Netflix.  Alas, that just doesn't seem to be in my make-up.   Or maybe I am just that excited about what I'm learning next.  The reason I can't give myself a break is that I am designing an independent study course for next semester.  It is circling around in my brain all the time and I'm looking for help to pull my plan of action together.

Background:
The church we left behind when we moved went through a series of changes during our time there and was struggling when we left.  So Hubby T and I have been discussing what makes a successful, healthy church off and on for awhile now.  Then after our move we had to decide what factors we were looking for in a new church, and when we had a difficult time finding a good fit, we considered again what we thought made for a successful, healthy church, and why is it so hard to find one?  Are we holding the wrong standards, or are many churches operating in ineffectual ways?  My Old Testament professor last fall threw into my thought mix an oft-repeated message from the Old Testament prophets of what the work of God's people should be, and a lot of the work that I see done in churches isn't part of that work.  Again, are we doing things all wrong?  Over the holidays we had a chance to catch up with an old friend who is Presbyterian seminary educated like me and is choosing to use his gifts and talents to pursue a completely different concept of church than what I hold.  So I'm left spinning and wondering about the whole concept of "church"...

Questions to answer:
What is church?  What could it be?  What should it be?  These are really important questions for me because I'm preparing for a career in the church but there is plenty of evidence that the church, at least as we have known it in our country in recent decades, is a sinking ship.  How do we make God and church relevant to people again?  Can/should God be relevant without church?  (My favorite artifact of this right now is Maren Morris, "My Church" - such a great song and such an intriguing message!)  So what will my future role look like?  Should I try to save the ship?  Redesign the ship?  Abandon ship?  And what does God have to say about all of this?

Plea for help:
Have you read or seen or heard anyone discussing these questions?  Please share your resources with me!  Books, blogs, articles, conferences, offers to share your own personal thoughts and experiences with me...I'll take them all!  I have to come up with a proposal/syllabus to share with the professor I'll be studying with and I'm not sure where to start.  I'm sure if I went to my seminary library and asked for books on what church should look like and how to address the contemporary problems of the church, I would be overwhelmed.  But I have a surprisingly large number of friends who work in the church (or maybe it's not at all surprising) and many, many others who don't work in it but are involved and deeply care about the church.  If you have any resources that you think might be helpful, I would love to consider them in my research.  It's only as a community that we the church can continue to be a community, and I'd love to hear what my community has to say about these questions I am wrestling with.  Thanks friends!

The Paterfamilias

One of my favorite Brad Paisley songs tells the story of a woman who isn’t anything special to most of the world, “To the teller down at the bank, you’re just another checking account, to the plumber who came today, you’re just another house…”  But to the person who is singing the song, the woman is something pretty special.  “To the world, you may be just another girl.  But to me, baby you are the world,”. 

My Poppa died this week.  To most of the world he was just another guy.  But to those of us who knew and loved him, he was our world.  He lived the American dream, rising from humble beginnings to be the first in his family to graduate college, persevered through a long career in the business world, which culminated in buying and building a successful company.  He then sold the company to live out the kind of retirement we all dream of: travel, living in beautiful places, investing time and money in the causes he believed in, and most of all, spending time with family and friends.  The life that he and his wife of sixty years built together has supported and inspired all of us who came from them, and although we knew his death was coming, it’s still jarring and surprising to be standing together in this place of loss.

Probably our first picture together, and first of him as a grandpa

I don’t feel like I knew my Poppa very well, and part of that is because he lived two-thirds of his life before I was even born.  I don't really know what he was like as a child, as a young man, as a young parent, in middle age.  I’m so grateful for the many, many trips they took across the country to visit us through the years as I was growing up.  I’m grateful for the interest he took in my hobbies and schooling and family.  Because of those efforts, I did know him and he knew me.  But what I do know for certain about my Poppa is that he was a man of faith, and the importance of faith is something he and I shared.

Poppa with the first two of nine grandchildren

Aside from great-grandparents (who I didn’t really know) passing away, this is my first experience with death.  I feel like I have been very sheltered, being able to say that after 31 years of life.  And since faith is so important to me, I am trying to come to grips with what has happened through the lens of faith.  There are all kinds of platitudes about death.  He’s in a better place, he’s not suffering anymore, he’s at peace, it was his time.  And while I don’t disagree with any of these comforting thoughts, I think there is much more to his death, which I am bold enough to say wasn’t really, or wasn't just, a death. 

This is the picture I went searching for right after I found out he was gone

My Christian faith tradition teaches that life on this earth is not all that there is.  Because Jesus came to earth, died, and rose again, we humans have been united with God in an eternal life.  And the end of this life is just the beginning of that eternal one.  And in that life, my Poppa’s body is whole again and stronger than he has been in years.  He is finally with his parents again.  He is enjoying the mountain views that he loved and having long conversations with God about all the questions about life that one inevitably accumulates during 82 years of life.  He is living in the fullness of God and waiting for all of us to be with him again one day.

 

Or at least that’s some of what I’m thinking to comfort myself.  I don’t know if his faith would have led him to agree with my personal platitudes of what happens after life on earth.  My mind keeps turning around lyrics from songs I know that speak of this time in life, which we can really only speculate about...

“With your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye, 

and go in peace and laugh on glory’s side, 

and fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus – 

and live” 

(Chris Rice, Untitled Hymn)

“Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?

Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still?   

Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall?   

Will I sing alleluia, will I be able to speak at all?

...  

I can only imagine, what my eyes will see when your face is before me, I can only imagine” 

(MercyMe, I Can Only Imagine)

His funeral mass is next week, after which I have to quickly shift gears and be physically and mentally present at school for a few days.  So I’m writing this now knowing that my grieving and processing has barely begun.  I’m pretty sure my break down moment will come during the Mass, because while I don’t know much about death, I do have a sense that this is a sacred time.  Because God is powerfully with us, and so Poppa is with us too, and this incredible time, of linking this life to death to eternal life, is new and uncharted and sad and, for me, so full of hope.

"One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,

to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple."

Psalm 27: 4

Congratulations, Poppa, on living this life so well.  I can't wait to be with you again in the next, and will keep working to honor your legacy down here.  Love you always.

This little guy, partly named for Poppa - he is and will be the legacy of both of us

    

Transfigured

The sermon I heard this morning started with a question.  "Why do you come to church?"  It was an amazingly appropriate question, as I have been pondering church and the meaning of church for several months now.  It probably started last summer when Hubby T and I closed the doors on the season we spent at our first church and started looking for a new church near our new home.  We quickly realized that searching for a church as a family was going to be much harder than searching for a church as a couple had been.  So we put some serious thought into what features of a church were important for us and started looking.  Then my school semester started and my Old Testament professor showed us scripture after scripture that indicates that worship of God should really be about action and what we as God's people are doing to bring God's justice and love into being here on earth.  Now if you evaluate a church through that lens, almost all of them will miserably fail.  Most churches are incredibly inward focused, and I was left wondering whether a church even existed that met this standard, or what it meant to be part of a church that didn't meet this standard.  Then over Christmas I caught up with a friend who has chosen to leave a mainline Protestant church to "do" church in yet another completely different way.  My head has been spinning.  What does God want church to look like, and does it line up at all with the way most American churches look?  Have we all been getting it all wrong?

So back to this morning, which found Hubby T and I at the "Bagels with the Clergy" meeting for newcomers at the church we are considering settling in.  It hasn't been an easy journey to find a new church home here in our new place, and we're still not completely sure of our decision.  But it's where we are for now.  After an encouraging meeting with the church leaders we settled into the new rhythm of the Episcopalian service and sat back to listen to the sermon.  "Why do you come to church?"  There are lots of reasons that I could offer to this question: for friendship and fellowship, to worship, to learn, to be centered, to find opportunities to serve the community.  But the gospel reading for today led to yet another answer - to be transformed.  The transfiguration story finds the disciples on a mountain top with Jesus, who suddenly is transformed into an image of his fully divine self.  The disciples are dumb-struck, but they hear God clearly speaking, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"  The disciples may have seen Jesus transfigured, but you have to figure that they are the ones who walked away truly changed.  And that was the suggestion of the sermon - you come to church to be transformed by God.  And (this part comes from me) this is what allows us, as Christians, to do the work my Old Testament professor called for, to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.  So maybe, just maybe, I was given some divine clarification today of what church should mean to me.  Thank you Lord.

Lent starts this week, the church season where we anticipate and prepare for Jesus' death, and then the resurrection.  I plan on taking Little B to the children's service on Wednesday to experience an Ash Wednesday service together.  I have an idea for a daily devotional action that we can do as a family to recognize this season.  And I'm thinking ahead, because for the past couple years, I have ordered a picture puzzle that the kids receive in their Easter eggs on Easter Sunday.  The picture is from the previous year and represents an experience or memory of what church has meant for our kids during that year.  And this year I have no picture.  We spent so much time away from any church this year and easing the boys into a new church has been slow and hard.  How do I want my kids to remember experiencing God this year?  A year when so much in their lives changed.  Quite possibly it will be a picture from outside church walls, which is yet another valid way to define church.  So here I go again, wondering what church means.  I have no doubt that God is working in this season of searching, and am cautiously hopeful for the next steps to be revealed...

"And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.  Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart..." 2 Corinthians 3:18-4:1

Our blustery blizzard

It started snowing while we were eating dinner last night.  It was snowing when we went to bed.  It was snowing when we woke up.  It has been snowing all day and will continue into tonight.  I have no memory of ever being with this much snow!

Early morning view of the snow

We had a relaxing Saturday morning breakfast, including homemade donuts, and then ventured out into the snow.  Hubby T's mission was to try and keep up with clearing our driveway.  For the record he did a great job and, I suspect, will have difficulty moving tomorrow. 

 The rest of us just wanted to play!

Happy snowboy!

It occurred to me while I was getting dressed that I don't have snow pants that stretch over the tops of my boots and this snow was already deep enough at 10am to cover my boots!  Once we got outside, it also quickly occurred to me that snow deep enough to cover my boots is extremely difficult for little boys to walk in!  Fortunately my sister gave the boys plastic snow shoes for Christmas that put bear and dinosaur foot prints in the snow.  And while this is a fun idea, their real utility came in allowing the boys to actually move around!

There is not normally a hill here but he was determined to make it onto the deck!

This storm brought massive winds with it.  We are actually pretty used to strong winds with the way our house is situated in a little valley, but it really did a number on the snow that was falling.  When we opened our garage door this morning, there were several feet of clear pavement before the mound of snow started!  And when we opened the door again this afternoon, the snow had completely covered the previously open spot.  My "Let it Snow!" yard flag, ironically, disappeared overnight, we believe a victim of the crazy winds.  And in a couple parts of our yard I could still see grass while I was sinking to my knees walking around other parts.

I have no idea why our beautiful pond turned brown as it finished freezing overnight.  It reminds me of the nasty mostly-ineffective sand they put on the roads when we get snow back in Virginia.  Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, our pirate ship made it through the storm just fine, and Baby P made sure to go out and "shovel" the slide;)

He also made sure to throw some snow balls while he was "helping" Dad shovel the driveway:)

Despite the crazy, blustery winds, we went back outside this afternoon for more fun.  Baby P really didn't like the strong winds and had a hard time deciding between disliking the winds and wanting to help his daddy.  Leaving him behind to sort that out, Little B and I struck out on our own.  We treked down the driveway, across the street, and to the back of our neighbor's house to try some sledding in the common area of our neighborhood.  Even with his snow shoes, it was rough going for Little B and even rougher for me so we did one slide down a small hill and then called it a day.  I figured Gramma would be proud that we tried:)  Maybe it will be easier once the wind dies down (tomorrow?).  Oh well, I feel like we gave this first snowy day in our new house our best effort.  And I'm pretty sure my neighbors got a good laugh watching me sink waist deep into the pile of snow on the side of the road left by the plow - I certainly did:)  Hopefully there will be more less-windy fun tomorrow!