Separation Anxiety

The nursery leader at church said Erin could start attending nursery class little early.

"If she's nervous or cries she might not be ready to come without you."

Of course she's going to cry, I thought as I gathered up the yard sale we dump on our pew at church each week. Books, silly putty, snacks, drinks, discarded jewelry, sacrament cups, crayons, crumpled paper, hair accessories, magnets, toys stolen from the pews behind--and in front--of ours. So much entertainment required for a little over sixty minutes of the first hour of worship. And like every week, as I pick up crumbs and dying crafts I wonder if it all leads to over-stimulation and makes the kids more church hyper.

(Don't tell me, let me figure it out myself.)

The salvation of the church-going parent comes when the children are off in their respective classes for the next two hours of church. In our case it's Anson to Primary and Ever to the older nursery class. Chup and I have been bouncing Erin between us for the last six months waiting until May. May--the month Squish finally turns eighteen months and we can put her in the younger nursery class and actually hear words spoken in Sunday School and teach our third hour classes without her mid-afternoon red-faced melt-down. (We've also employed our friend Jessica to help with the bouncing, bless her for her troubles.)

Yes May! The month of our church-going peacemaking.

And yet, I worried for Erin's side of the bargain. She's many things: quiet, sensitive, emphatic, observant and skeptical, but not so much a socialite. In crowds she's fiercely devoted to me (shall we say) and when we leave her with a babysitter she curses at us through the front window. For weeks leading up to May I had visions of Erin in nursery clawing at the door, splinters in her fingernails, praying (with her limited vocabulary) for freedom.

OUT!

DONE!

NO!

MONKEY!

So last Sunday after our pew was cleared of debris, I walked my Erin to the nursery door for the first time. And just before I opened it I crouched down and looked into her eyes.

"You can do this Squish!" I told her with a kiss on her nose.

And then I took a deep breath and opened the door and my Squishy, in her rose dress with the ruffly shoes and that big pastel bow placed on her head, ran fast right through my legs into the nursery and with her arms extended skyward, she let out a huge,

"OooooooooooOOOOooooooOOOOO!"

like she had won everything.

And that's when the door slammed shut in my face and my eye was level with the peephole parents use to check on their children in the nursery room.

You know what? That girl didn't even look back.

Daughter of Eve

I sat at the temple this morning mulling over my personal inventory.

How am I doing?

I have been feeling sadness and (of course) anger a lot this past week. It seemed almost anything could set me whirling into shame and disconnect. As I work through the 12 Step program I am learning my disconnect comes from not wanting to feel feelings. Even happy feelings I've tried to escape. Feeling anything at all can be difficult sometimes.

Those things I used to lather myself in for the thrill of happiness just don't do it for me anymore. Certainly, there are little drops of joy in what I used to relish in--the colors in my house, new clothes, parties--but it's so far diminished from what it used to be. Happiness for me now begs for more than what is pretty or perfect.

It's imperfection that is beautiful to me now. I find myself buying into it more and more. Imperfection is the story of Christianity. It's the taking up of the cross. For centuries Christians have told stories of weakness and work, of overcoming great personal obstacles and broken relationships. Their imperfections told their stories. Why would my story be different?

The more I try to develop a relationship with God, the more I am aware of my pride and lust, my worshiping of idols and denial of truth. I know of my desire to be desirable, to have everything I want to have, to be just a little bit better than someone else.

But then, while gathering in my confessions and awareness, I have a moment where God transforms the worst of my vices into strengths. When my vanity turns from despair into a sweeping love for myself, I know I am seeing myself as God sees me. And in that moment I derive power from the idea of helping someone else swim in that sentiment too. Oh. Oh. Oh happiness.

Happiness beyond purchase and beyond colors and born from grief.

Provo 5

Five things about Provo today.

1. The Blue Aces Need Our Help!

Last Friday the fabulous teen rock band The Blue Aces lit up the RCS stage and now they are fighting for a place on the Stadium of Fire stage with Kelly Clarkson and Carly Rae Jepsen. Please help us wherever you are by voting for them here. (You can vote by facebook, gigg and twitter once a day!)

2. My New Favorite Hashtag On Instagram!
 
Stunning views of Our Lady Timpanogos fill up the page--Timp shrouded with clouds, Timp pink and purple at sunset, Timp and the disappearing snowy top. Check out #timpstagram.
Also, feel free to use the #iloveprovo to show your love of Ptown on Instagram.

3. The Beehive Bazaar Second Weekend!

Any BB aficionado knows one weekend is never enough for the Beehive. This season's owners Noelle, Beccy (modeling above) and Richard invited some of Utah's most popular artists to sell their art at incredibly reduced prices (Kershisnik, Richards, Connolly to name drop a few...). Along with the usual highly-creative and inventive crafts, you can also find delicious baked goods and skin products for sale. If you missed last week, you have no excuse to miss this weekend!
At the Riverwoods, see TheBeehiveBazzar.com.
p.s. Ever's Vintage Fern dress below was picked up at the Beehive last weekend. We live in these dresses (both my girls) and are going on sale this weekend. Only $18. Check them out when you go.


4. Jay William Henderson

Last night Chup and I went to Velour to see the warm up act for this June's Rooftop Concert--Jay William Henderson. He was incredibly mesmorizing. If you like beautiful, haunting and soul-tugging singing and songwriting, check out his album here (you can listen online). I very much recommend.

5. The National Parks New Video
The dynamic Indie-Americana Provo band (also, on the Rooftops in July) came out with a video this week. Would you like to see it? Of course you would because it's good music:



See you around town!
C. Jane

Come See GIRL RISING

Utah County,

My sister Page and her husband Vance are hosting a screening of GIRL RISING a film about how education can change a girl and ultimately change the world. The date is June 10th at the Water Gardens Spanish Fork 8 in Spanish Fork and tickets are $10. I haven't seen it yet, but Page and her three oldest daughters (Olivia 18, Emma 16, Cynthia 14) and (sister) Lucy and her husband Andrew (are you keeping these names straight?) have seen it at past screenings and say it's very powerful. Right after her screening Lucy texted me:

It was a huge awakening. I'm so grateful I can choose which preschool to send my daughter to without a blink of an eye. I want her to have every opportunity. I also felt so much sadness that I had the opportunity for education and didn't take advantage of it. Not yet anyway...

So, here's an invitation to come. Because of the way these screening are set up, we need 55 tickets to sell before it's a sure thing.
You read more about it and buy tickets here.
Here's the trailer. Stop crying you baby.

Pink Afternoon

Ever has a gift of luminescence. She can light up a room, a soul, a long car ride to Idaho. She can sing you a song on the spot (lyrics and tune, by her) and can do a you a dance if you request. And she's pretty funny and clever--smart and quick. Her favorite show to watch is Rescue Bots. She likes to nap in the backyard on a soft blanket and a pillow (she has to have a pillow) and she loves to eat fries. Her charm can win almost anyone over to her side. She likes to swing high (towards the moon) at the park, go for rides on her red motorcycle, read books about bears and build towers with wood blocks. Her dramatic brown eyes seem to pop when she wears black, brown, lavender and white. But mostly black because that's the color that turns those eyes into weapons of mass persuasion.

On Saturday my Ever was invited to a princess birthday party. When the invitation arrived at our door a week earlier, I was a little concerned Ever wouldn't want to dress up like a princess. She's much more inclined to dress up like a masked ninja or a scowling witch. But Saturday afternoon when I told her the party was going to start soon, she picked through the dress-up box and came up the stairs with a pink puffy frock in hand. We put it on, completed it with a string of pearls and a hot pink head piece. I turned her towards the mirror and said, "Look Ev! You're a princess!" I thought she was going to melt with happiness. If we weren't running behind already, she would've stared at her pink being in the hallway mirror for the better part of the afternoon.

She kept giggling. Her little hands cupping her mouth. Giggling.

She felt pretty.

I watched as she headed out the door with Daddy, skipping down the street and around the corner in her multicolored sandals. Her confidence bounced like the hot pink head piece on top of her head. Life would never be so wonderful as Ever Jane's afternoon as a princess.

And hours later, when the party was over she came home--hot pink head piece in hand, newly coronated with a silver paper crown--and took it all off in favor of her flannel footed jammies with the penguins. (Those are her favorite.)

Please, let her feel pretty all the days of her life.

Is that too much to ask?