We survived Lent and made it to Holy Week! It’s always a challenge to make it to evening services with young kids, but Jake and Michael were able to go on Monday, and all of us were able to go on Tuesday. We will see how many more we can make it to this week.

I was stunned at how well Tuesday went — the kids did really well despite being exhausted. My new trick is to pack pajamas and blankets to change into after church, and call it a “car sleepover”. Both kids fell asleep halfway through the drive home and transferred to bed relatively seamlessly, which never happens. Praise God for His small mercies!

I’ve had a bit of a cleaning bug the past week or so. I spent a day rearranging our large side porch so we could spend more time playing on it. I wish I had a “before” picture because it’s a rather dramatic transformation. It had become a storage area and catch-all for recycling and boxes. Now, half of it is a play area for the kids and half of it is a place for adults to sit and watch the kids play. It’s been really nice to play there in the shade while the temps are in the high 70s and 80s.

We even have had some “picnics” out there. Beatrice found out she can stand on the kid picnic table and has been unstoppable ever since.

We’ve done some gardening as well, planting tomatoes, basil, peppers, and a handful of other flowers and plants. Michael now has a pair of gardening gloves just his size, and he loves helping me weed and water. I got him a watering can of his own after he used the hose to water his sister…it helps mitigate the damage he can cause.

I’m hoping to get a picnic table for our garden too, and lay down bark mulch in between the garden beds for easier weed control. Eventually, we will have a trellis over our walkway/garden gate for the jasmine to climb, and string lights around our gravel pad…I have lots of grand plans, but we shall see what we accomplish this year. It’s ever a balance between ideals and reality.

I sewed Michael the Sunny Hat (free pattern!) by Twig & Tale, using some scrap linen from my stash and tractor quilting cotton he picked out himself. He loves wearing it while he’s running around outside — I must admit, I’m tickled by how much he loves wearing anything I make him.

Beatrice has gotten more verbal: she now says “bye bye” very clearly, and blows raspberries as she plays with toy cars. She also says “grandpa” with Michael’s exact intonation, which is pretty funny. Whenever anyone’s speaking loudly or shouting across distances, she has to shout too. She has a handful of other words like Mama, Dada, cat, dog, and others I’m having trouble remembering right now. And she’s discovered she can pick strawberries and eat them fresh from the vine.

Michael and I have been reading A Children’s Garden of Verses (illustrated by Tasha Tudor — a glorious book) while Bea has her midday nap. He plays with his “magic sand” or watercolors or play dough while I read aloud. We played around with repeating back lines of the poems to each other too. Eventually we’ll do morning memorization time, when Bea is a bit older and less demanding of my attention.

I grew up learning poems and Scripture around the breakfast table, and I can still recite them 20 years later. While I didn’t quite appreciate it at the time, I’m so grateful to my parents for prioritizing memorization at a young age. It’s something I’m determined to pass on to my kids.

The phrase “praise God for His small mercies” has fallen into my daily vocabulary lately. When I say it, I don’t mean “small” in a diminutive sense. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes by Therese of Lisieux:

The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm.
If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.

Therese of Lisieux

The small mercies, like small flowers, are absolutely lovely. And I cherish them.

That’s where I’m at this Holy Week: very aware of my smallness, and very grateful for our God who sees and loves the smallest parts of His creation.

Right now, I’m taking each day as it comes and doing the work set before me with the energy I have available. I’ve said the same before in times of stress with resignation, head down and teeth gritted. But that’s not where I’m at right now. I’m in a place of peace. I look forward to the day ahead. I’m excited about the work set before me. I enjoy the beautiful little moments, and with God’s help, recover from the difficult ones.

Praise God for His small mercies.

Holy Week somehow creeps up on me every year. I feel like we scramble for the next few days, then accept with exhaustion the fact that we won’t get everything done we want to get done. I think it crept up on us faster than usual this year because of Beatrice’s arrival at the start of Lent.

Because Jake is still on paternity leave, he was able to take Michael to almost all the weekday services. Michael did exceptionally well for a two year old, and loved standing up with the choir.

I was able to duet the Hymn of Kassiani with Jake on Holy Tuesday, which is one of my favorite pieces of music in Holy Week.

I will kiss Thy feet Whose tread when it fell on the ears of Eve in Paradise dismayed her so that she did hide herself because of fear. Who then shall examine the multitude of my sin and the depth of Thy judgment? Wherefore, O my Saviour and the Deliverer of my soul turn not away from Thy handmaiden O Thou of boundless mercy.

Most of the services I attended, however, I was soothing a tired and gassy baby in the cry room. I’ve written (multiple times) about the different type of ascetic service required of mothers in different seasons of life. I don’t have any new thoughts right now, but this week I sat and held close the reality that this, too, is prayer.

I loved watching Michael with Jake this week. He often asked to go to church throughout the day, even if he had just been that morning or the night before. He also began to run around singing snippets of what he’d been hearing: lots of AMENs and ALLELUIAs!

Between singing in the choir and taking care of two children (even though their godparents and grandparents both helped out so so much) I didn’t get as many photos as I wish I had. One day, I’ll borrow a nice camera and try to capture all the glorious, beautiful details of our services during Holy Week.

But for now, enjoy the small snippets I managed to capture.

Come, receive the Light that is never overtaken by night, and glorify Christ who arose from the dead.

Christ has Risen from the dead, by death trampling upon Death, and has bestowed life upon those in the tombs.

We got home around 2:30 am on Sunday morning, and went back at 1 pm for Agape Vespers and our church’s Pascha BBQ. Agape Vespers is one of my favorite services: we read the Gospel in as many different languages as we can, and also we sing another of my favorite music pieces for the evening prokeimenon:

Who is so great a God as our God? Thou art the God who does wonders!

Jake and I sang it again as a duet. One of my favorite things to do is sing beside him, and I love that Holy Week and Pascha give me so many chances to do so.

Michael loved hunting for eggs with the rest of the kids, though he was decidedly uninterested in the candy inside and just wanted to keep finding more and opening and closing them.

Jake and one of our subdeacons competed on the Velcro wall (Jake won, sorry Jeremy — next year!), my dad made some incredible ribs, punch and wine and beer and whiskey made their rounds, cake and chocolate and donuts and Pascha cheese were present in copious amounts. As I said on Instagram, ain’t no party like a Pascha party.

So, Christ is risen, dear friends! We have entered with joy into the Paschal season. Now for naps, enjoying good food and good drink, spending time with good friends, and more naps!

Over the past two weeks, I rejoined my church community after my period of postpartum rest (a ceremony called churching that happens approximately 40 days after birth) and Beatrice was baptized!

Churching is such a beautiful thing. On the surface it can be somewhat controversial: some people think it means the woman is barred from the church because she is “unclean” from birth or something. In actuality, it’s a blessing to rest from the rigors of church attendance (standing for 2 hour services is hard even when you haven’t just given birth) and to tend to your baby while your body recovers. Many parishes let the mother decide when to return, with the guidance also of her spiritual father.

Our priest prayed over me and Beatrice, thanking God for the blessing of a baby and praying I may be fully healed from all parts of the birthing process. Then he took Beatrice and presented her to the Lord, bringing her into the church and back to the altar, and in front of the icons of Christ and the Theotokos.

The Saturday following, April 20th, our sweet Bea was baptized! My siblings flew in for the weekend to attend: my sister Becca is her godmother, and her godfather is a dear family friend of ours. My in-laws drove up too (of course), and Father performed the baptism, along with our parish priest. Michael was so excited to see Oma and Opa, and had a blast playing with them. He was very sad when they left.

It was a small baptismal service without a party afterwards, given that we’re still in the middle of Lent and things have been quite busy. However, Pascha falls on the exact day she turns two months old: we will be sure to celebrate her heartily along with our risen Christ. Michael was fascinated by all of it. We had explained the baptism to him and two-year-old terms before hand , and so half way through the service he loudly proclaimed that Opa needed to “put her in the water”!

My brother Jon took some amazing photos of the ceremony, and they’re still being edited/transferred from the SD card to the computer. I’ll be sure to do a post with some of those photos too, when I receive them.

Beatrice’s baptismal gown was made from my wedding dress by a lovely woman I found on Etsy. It’s a keepsake I’ll be preserving for any future children we may have as well. There was something so tender and sweet seeing her wrapped in it after her baptism.

Now, we Orthodox enter into Holy Week: we will have church services every day leading up to the glory of Pascha. Pray for us, especially our priests, deacons, subdeacons, readers, and choir directors (and their families)! Lent is a long and beautiful marathon, and we all need good strength to finish well.

As many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. Alleluia!

It’s been quite a busy few weeks. I’ve been fully in the throes of nesting, and it’s been a whirlwind of projects in and around the house.

We’ve been outside a lot as the rain clears and the temperatures linger in the low 60s. This is one of the only times I truly appreciate living in a warmer climate. It’s been wonderful being outside and working in the garden. I know when the temperatures climb to 100+ degrees in the summer I’ll be struggling once more, but for now, I’m enjoying the golden sunshine and crisp wind and moody skies.

Last week I did some pretty intense work in our garden as the weather warmed up. I planted jasmine, apple trees, broccoli, tomatoes, beans, and marigolds, and reorganized furniture, cleaned the front porch, and mowed our wild lawn. It felt good to be working in the crisp February air, even though I was pretty sore for a few days afterwards.

Michael had a lot of fun hanging out with my dad while I got tips and pointers on how to work some of the power tools I borrowed.

Then, Jake and my dad spent a weekend tiling our main bathroom. I was so grateful they finished it before baby girl arrived — despite the rain that made cutting tile outside a bit more difficult! It was a project we’d hoped to complete before moving in, but never actually did. Now, aside from painting touchups, the bathroom is complete.

Michael also had a blast “helping” my dad with the grouting process.

This past weekend Jake leveled out the northern section of our garden (with some help from Michael). We’ll put down some native grass seed so we have a place to sit and walk barefoot while keeping an eye on our growing veggies.

Maybe it’s because we’re drawing so close to having our second baby join us, but Michael seems to have grown up in leaps the past few weeks. He got a haircut, and we stopped to have a coffee date afterwards. He looks so much bigger and older. It makes my heart ache in a bittersweet way.

He’s such a sweet, spirited boy. He talks constantly, narrating what he’s doing or what’s going on around us. Being outside, as always, is his ultimate favorite thing. He sings quite a lot, and loves his harmonica (which I conveniently hide from time to time). He always wants to help, with whatever we’re doing: so often we load the dishwasher or sweep or make the bed together. His excitement for things I take for granted never fails to humble me.

I’m nearly 38 weeks pregnant now, and I’m feeling a slow shift in my body and mind as we draw closer to the end. Nesting has moved from cleaning and house and garden projects to more internal work: mainly handicrafts and quiet time — as much as can be expected with a toddler — and as many naps as I can manage.

We’ve been spending afternoons coloring together, or making cookies, or walking around the garden. He’s developed a new love of daffodils after all mine burst into bloom, and asks me to draw them whenever we have the crayons out. I do my best.

As for handicrafts, I finally finished the crewel work project I’ve been working on for over a year. I love the way it turned out: embroidery projects aren’t my main passion, but I do love having one to pull out when the fancy strikes. I started another: my grandmother got me an embroidery kit for my birthday from Avlea Embroidery. It’s my first time doing counted thread work, which is harder than I expected. I’m still enjoying the process and look forward to having a beautiful table linen when it’s finished.

I also completed a knitting project: a purple kitty for a dear little girl at our church.

I feel like many of my current projects are a race against the clock: how much can I finish before birth? Do I have a day to finish this sewing project, or a few weeks? There’s no way to tell. I feel suspended in a strange, liminal state: all plans have the shadow of the unknown over them. It’s beginning to feel “real” (especially when you start getting groceries that expire after your due date).

My due date is only a few days before the beginning of Lent, so God willing, I will be rejoining the church services right before Pascha (or a little before). I will miss the communal aspect of Lent where all of us undertake the sober task of focusing on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

As we on the Julian calendar approach Lent, I’m reminded that this will be a strange Lenten season for me: the Church sets aside 40 days of healing for mothers postpartum where they are excused from all services. These 40 days aren’t mandatory, but strongly encouraged. In a culture that idolizes the “bounce back” of mothers’ bodies and minds, I appreciate this tradition that prioritizes healing and recognizes the sacredness of labor, delivery, and postpartum.

But even in this time set aside for rest and healing, I will be undertaking the Lenten journey. My fasting will look different: prioritizing my nourishment and rest as I heal from labor and delivery. My almsgiving will look different: giving continually from myself as I sustain a baby with my body. My prayer will look different: instead of attending church services, I’ll be attending to a newborn at all hours as well as my toddler.

Pray for me, dear friends, as I watch and wait over the next few weeks, and as we enter into this new season: liturgically, and also in life.

For us Orthodox Christians, it’s been the first week of Lent (also known as Clean Week). For my Catholic and Protestant friends, Lent began the 22nd of February with Ash Wednesday.

It’s easy to misunderstand Lent as medieval legalism, or punishment, or self-flagellation. In reality, it’s none of these things. It’s medicine for our sick souls and bodies. During Lent, we focus on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving to become more like Christ as we prepare for His Passion and Resurrection.

But, the Church spares no effort in revealing to us that fasting is but a means, one among many, towards a higher goal: the spiritual renewal of man, his return to God, true repentance and, therefore, true reconciliation.

Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann

The upcoming weeks will be full of beautiful church services. However, I have a complicated relationship with these Lenten duties now that I’m a mother.

Watching Michael grow comfortable in church has been a delight. He loves pointing at the icons, or running in circles around the icon on the stand at the front, or looking to his right and brightly exclaiming “Dada!” as he sees Jake chanting the Psalms. During more sparsely-attended services the sanctuary looks like a spacious and exciting place for an active one-year old. He doesn’t stay still for a moment: I get my steps in as I follow him to the front of the church, pick him up before he can get too close to the iconostasis, walk to the back of the church again, set him down, and the cycle repeats.

But it’s also easy to fall into resentment, or self-pity, or dread. The drive is 45 minutes both ways, and usually cuts into dinner time. Michael often is exhausted and low on resources — Divine Liturgy is in the middle of his naptime, and Vespers and the midweek Lent services are during his bedtime. We made it to one service this week, and had to leave halfway through because he was melting down. My husband will be fulfilling his duties as choir director and reader, my dad singing in the choir, and my mother helping with her goddaughter, so I will be wrangling Michael by myself — either in church or at home.

One of the things I love about Lent is the sense of community. We are all undertaking this great fast together, praying together; growing in holiness together. But lately I’ve been struggling because Lent looks different for me than for the rest of the church. It’s easy to get discouraged and think I’m not good enough because I can’t make all the services, or fast completely, or even focus on the services I do attend. And it’s easy to feel isolated and alone as I stay home, or stand on the patio with a wild toddler.

But when I stop to think about it, I am indeed praying, fasting, and almsgiving: just in ways that look a little different.

My prayer looks different in this season of life. Instead of singing with the choir, I pace the church with my tired toddler, letting my mind cling to the fragments of the Psalms I hear. I nurse or rock him to sleep in the cry room, listening to the bells on the censor as the priest passes by. I offer up my frustration, my exhaustion, my distraction, as imperfect prayer.

My fasting looks different in this season of life. As a breastfeeding mother and the cook for our family, we aren’t adhering to the strict Lenten diet most of the church does, though we are abstaining from meat. Instead of carefully curated Lenten fare, I eat either standing at a counter or with a curious toddler on my lap, trying to stick his hands in my bowl. Or I forget to eat, distracted by the multiple bids for my attention that surround me every day. I fast by denying myself and my desires as I stay home from church to tend to Michael instead of going to the services.

My almsgiving looks different in this season of life. While we also look for ways to give to those around us who are in need, I also recognize that my gift of self to my family — through presence, through menial household labor, through listening and soothing and playing with a one-year old — is in itself a form of giving.

I don’t have to enjoy every moment of Lenten motherhood: in fact, I often long for the days of quiet prayer when I could focus on the words of Liturgy. But when I’m tempted towards resentment or anger or despair, I take hold of this truth: my Lenten motherhood is just as pleasing a sacrifice to God as the singing of the faithful. As He accepts the distracted, childlike love of my son toddling from icon to icon, He accepts my exhausted, scattered love as I follow my child to the patio outside with Cheerios.

Piety, piety, but where is the love that moves mountains?

Mother Maria of Paris

So if you also are entering Lent carrying the weight of distraction and frustration and imperfection — whether because of motherhood or grief or mental illness or just exhaustion from the events of life — know that you are not alone. Many of us are carrying our Lenten struggles alongside you. And your prayer, your fasting, and your almsgiving — whatever they may look like, in whatever season of life you may be in — can be just as effective tools for your sanctification as the prostrations of the most devout monk.

I have a confession to make:

…I used to be an Advent stickler.

That meant no Christmas music, no Christmas tree, no decorations until well into December. The only hints of Christmas were the Advent wreath upon the table and all eight verses of O Come O Come Emmanuel playing on repeat.

I used to shake my head at the department stores with their Christmas decorations going up before our Halloween candy was gone. Thanksgiving hadn’t even arrived yet: it was much too early to even think about Christmas

Recently, though, my stance on Advent has changed. Before I explain, I want to note I’m that not scoffing at those who are self-proclaimed Advent sticklers — there is a beauty in simplicity, and in the ascetic response to the consumerism that often inundates the secular celebration of Christmas. And often it does feel like the world skips straight to the celebration without preparing for the feast.

Yet the Orthodox Nativity Fast has us preparing for the birth of Christ even earlier than many department stores. Starting on November 15th (in the New Calendar), we begin to prepare our minds and bodies and souls for the Nativity of Christ.

At first, it was difficult for me to think about Christmas “so early” (even though forty days prior doesn’t seem too early for Pascha/Easter). The Incarnation of our Lord is a major feast: and major feasts take major preparation.

It reminds me of all of the thought and hard work that goes into throwing a party. There’s cooking and decorating and planning and cleaning and organizing — so much to do! Preparing well takes time. As much as all of us love to procrastinate, there are some things we can’t put off until the last minute. When you look at the ornate feasts thrown in movies or paintings, you see the time and care that went into every element of the table setting. The sparkling dishes, the carefully folded napkins, the decorations, the multiple-course banquet: it takes time and community and intentionality to prepare well for a feast.

I would argue preparing well also requires joy. We plan our parties with excitement and anticipation (even the introverted among us). What good is a party if all the arrangements were made grudgingly or half-heartedly?

When we let the seasons of the Church permeate our everyday life, the rhythms of fast and feast, of preparation and celebration, begin to shape and form us.

One of the glorious things about letting the seasons of the Church permeate our everyday life is the sense of “already and not yet”. In a very real way, we live at a point in time after the Incarnation of Christ. Yet in a very real way, we are also preparing for the Incarnation to occur. The season of Advent not only reminds us to prepare for Christ’s first coming, but also His second.

I’ve come to cherish these forty days before Christmas. Now I start preparing as soon as the Nativity Fast begins. I add decorations and reminders in increments throughout the weeks: placing our Nativity icon in the forefront of our prayer corner. Changing our tablecloth to the festive one. Baking gingerbread. Helping my parents and grandparents decorate their houses. Lighting our Western Advent wreath as soon as December begins. Getting our Christmas tree. Revisiting On the Incarnation by St Athanasius. Listening to Hansel’s Messiah.

(I do wait to play Christmas music til after Thanksgiving. I’m not a complete monster.)

I see each of these things as a way to “set the table” to prepare for the feast. The table is set, but we are still waiting for the arrival of our guests. The beauty of the music and decorations remind me to take joy in the preparation. The discipline of the Nativity Fast helps me to intentionally prepare the way, and make ourselves ready for the King of Kings.

Whether you decorate before Thanksgiving, or wait til December 24th, I hope your Advent season is one of hopeful, peaceful, joyful preparation.