Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Pregnancy reflections trump ruffled feathers

I am bristling at someone’s churlish behavior toward me tonight and trying to let it go…let it go…let it go. (deeeeeep breath) “Churlish” was the best antonym I could come up with for “gracious.” I admire graciousness in a person. I disdain its opposite, whether directed toward me or others. What causes a person to behave tactlessly? Insecurity? Ignorance? Arrogance? Jerkiness? (Let it go…let it go…let it go…)

What I was going to write about—no, what I am going to write about—is a few observations about my pregnant state of being:

1) The baby moves around a lot. I seem to notice it more during this pregnancy than I did during the previous 3. I think maybe it’s because: a) I think this will be my last pregnancy, or b) This pregnancy took me somewhat by surprise. (Festival Note: I saw a book there, Surprise Child, that I’d like to read in the next few months.)

While I am very conscious of the baby’s movements, no one else seems to be—at least, not yet. Will sometimes holds his hand over my abdomen, hoping to feel the movements. But so far he’s only experienced a few “Oh, I think maybe I just felt something” moments with this baby. S/he seems un-inclined to “perform” on demand.

As I feel the baby moving inside me, I realize this is something that cannot be captured on film or audio file. Part of my packrat problem is that I feel driven to catalogue my life, for myself and for future generations. When it comes to throwing away fifth grade essays I wrote, for example, I think: “No, because someday my great-grandchildren might want to see how talented a 10-year-old I was.” So I save stuff—too much stuff. But this baby movement sensation is something I can only experience—and treasure in my heart.

2) I am about to enter my third trimester. (It officially starts at 28 weeks—12 days from now, but who’s counting?) In the past week or so, my body is reverting to first-trimester nap needs. As in, “I must get some sleep—30 minutes minimum—sometime between 3 and 6 p.m. Or else I might die.” The physiological demand is that strong. So I do my best to accommodate the urge. And when I can’t, I’m practically passing out by 7:30.

I am obviously pregnant to everyone I meet these days. There seems to be no question about the source of my added girth. Which is somewhat of a relief because for the few months leading up to now, I got the impression that some people thought I’d simply gorged myself on cookies all winter long. Not true. I only did that the first month of this pregnancy, before I even knew about this pregnancy. Thus, while the midwife’s office thinks I have put on just 18 pounds so far, I know it’s more like 28. Oh, well. Why should I think I’ll get by gaining less than 50 this time?

3) I am grateful to be sleeping well, still—7-9 hours a night, no problem. Usually only one bathroom break, and I’m able to fall back asleep right away. I am grateful that my bladder will allow me this much, because I know by the end I will be up at least once every other hour, as body, mind and soul prepare for the frequent feedings required by the small wriggly creature soon to effect a huge ripple in the peaceful pond that is our collective lives.

Passing it on

A good friend and fellow believer sent me this prayer today, and I share it with you:

O Holy Spirit of God,
abide with us;
inspire all our thoughts;
pervade our imaginations;
suggest all our decisions;
order all our doings.
Be with us in our silence
and in our speech,
in our haste and in our leisure,
in company and in solitude,
in the freshness of the morning and
in the weariness of the evening;
And give us grace at all times humbly
to rejoice in Thy mysterious companionship.

Amen.

John Baillie

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

My Untended Garden

I love things like this—lovely things that grow in spite of my inattention.

Things like these purple tulips that I bought from a friend’s daughter’s marching band fundraiser. (I felt somewhat obligated, in a “I loved marching band, so I should support this girl’s marching band” kind of way.) I bought them, I planted them (again, somewhat obligingly—I didn’t want to waste the money I’d invested in the overpriced band tulips), and then they bloomed. A miracle!

And then fall came, and withered leaves covered the tiny garden by the corner of my front porch. I didn’t rake them up in time. Snow fell, and I forgot about the tulips. And the leaves. And then spring came, more than a month ago—early this year. Not just by the solstice date, but by the temperatures. Mid-80s by late March is anomalous in A-Town.

I’ve had plenty of weeks to clean up the little flower bed, but I haven’t yet. “I’m too busy.” “I’m pregnant.” “We had a house guest coming.” All sorts of excuses. And guilt—always the guilt.

It didn’t matter. They came up anyway. Good, gracious tulips. (Thanks, God.)

Sunday, April 25, 2010

How Do I Look?

Here it is: My long-procrastinated blog makeover! I spent the better part of this Sunday afternoon searching for and installing the just-right free Blogger template.

The "Photo of the Week" feature on the right--a gap-toothed smiling Ben with Pearl peeking from behind him (a shot I "cartoonized" at BeFunky.com)--was the most taxing part of the blog transition. I had to try about 8 different methods to make the photo appear there. And even now, it's missing the frame that's supposed to accompany it, but I'm deeming it "good enough" for the time being.

The paper-clipped menu to the left of the "Welcome" section has yet to be tackled. For now, I'm leaving the links blank. (I've spent more hours than I intended on the project for today. It's birthday party time!)

Like?

Friday, April 23, 2010

Saving the pencils, saving my sanity

For me, sanity begins with an empty coffee can. I find I can tolerate the socks, toys, shoes, newspapers, books, business cards—the various and sundry items that populate our floors; a cacophony of clutter; an inanimate, anarchical, miniature city of stuff. So much randomness, I tell myself, signifies the dynamism of the happy humanity of our household. But the writing utensils—the pens, pencils, markers and crayons—they must be contained. If they spill, there go my bearings. I must rescue them from the tyranny of the masses.

Image from dontcallmebecky.typepad.com

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Sum-thing about last week

I am still in re-entry mode after a whirlwind of a week last week. I feel unprepared to offer insightful and witty analysis of the banquet and writing conference. But I also feel as though I should say something, so I’ll go for pithy…or at least short and sweet:

The Banquet: Pam Tebow, our speaker, was charming and gracious and quite possibly the worst singer I have ever heard—which only added to her charm! She sprinkled her faith-filled speech with “songs” she made up to help herself and her kids memorize Scripture verses over the years. I say “songs” because the tunes were very difficult to decipher, as Pam herself acknowledged. But she was absolutely right: Kids and especially grandkids don’t care about the melodies as much as the sincerity of love expressed. It was an excellent speech and a wonderful evening. We raised just over $40,000, about 80 percent of our goal, and I am optimistic about raising the remaining 20 percent through follow-up efforts with supporters who couldn’t attend that night.

The Conference: The Festival of Faith & Writing was a veritable feast for the mind and soul. The line-up of speakers was outstanding; the topics were interesting and challenging. I felt like a lucky duck being there! Thanks to my cousin Nina for inviting me along for the ride. For those interested, here’s a schedule of the sessions I attended, including brief descriptions of the talks and mini bio’s of the speakers. My favorite sessions were the back-to-back reflections of Michael Perry and Scott Russell Sanders on Thursday afternoon, and I also really enjoyed Richard Rodriguez’s talk Friday night. It’s a bi-annual conference—here’s hoping for another go in 2012!

Image: The Bookworm, by Karl Spitzweg

Thursday, April 15

10:00–10:20 a.m.

Chapel Service Sally Lloyd-Jones leads a time of prayer and reflection for the Calvin community and Festival guests. Chapel

Sally Lloyd-Jones is a British children’s book writer who was born in East Africa, raised in the UK, and came to the United States in 1989 for a year. She’s still here. She is the author of the award-winning bestseller, The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name as well as many picture books, including the critically acclaimed How to Be a Baby: By Me, the Big Sister. She lives in Manhattan and enjoys dividing her time between the front half of her apartment and the back.

10:30–11:15 a.m.

ReadingsIn these sessions, we feature several authors who are new to the Festival of Faith and Writing. We hope you enjoy becoming more acquainted with them and their work.

Matt Ruff, Alumni Association Board Room

Matt Ruff’s first novel, Fool on the Hill, was published shortly after his graduation from Cornell University. Ruff’s other books include Sewer, Gas, and Electric: The Public Works Trilogy, Set This House in Order: A Romance of Souls, and, most recently, Bad Monkeys. While his work does not fall neatly into either fantasy or science-fiction genres, he is known for including speculative elements in his novels. Ruff lives in Seattle, where he writes fiction full-time.

12:00–1:15 p.m.

Embodied Faith: Not What You Think – Scott Cairns, Van Noord Arena

Scott Cairns is professor of English and director of creative writing at the University of Missouri. His poems and essays have appeared in Poetry, Image, Paris Review, Atlantic Monthly, and The New Republic. His most recent poetry collection is Compass of Affection. Other recent books include his spiritual memoir, Short Trip to the Edge, and a book-length essay, The End of Suffering:Finding Purpose in our Pain. He is also a contributor to A Syllable of Water: Twenty Writers of Faith Reflect on Their Art. Cairns received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2006 and currently serves as the Catherine Paine Middlebush Chair in English at the University of Missouri.

1:45–2:45 p.m.

If You Can Use Anything, Lord – Sharon Flake, Science Building, Room 010

Young adult novelist Sharon Flake discusses how God used the broken pieces of her life—along with her fear and insecurities—and turned them into a successful writing career. The lesson: all writers, no matter how inadequate they may feel, already have what they need to be successful.

When Sharon Flake first enrolled in college, her goal was to be a pediatrician. But eventually, due to her interests and experiences, she chose to major in writing instead. She has written The Skin I’m In, a young-adult novel that received the 1999 Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe Award for New Authors, and Money Hungry, which was named a 2002 Coretta Scott King Honor book. Flake lives in Pittsburgh.

3:15–4:15 p.m.

Life as a Bumbling Agnostic – Michael Perry, Seminary Chapel

What parts do uncertainty, humility, love, and stubbornness play in the process of rejecting the faith of your childhood while simultaneously honoring the faith of those who raised you? This session offers a heartfelt and humorous discussion with a former fundamentalist Christian who currently describes himself as “not lookin’ for trouble … just lookin’.”

Michael Perry’s writings are firmly based on his childhood and life in northwestern Wisconsin. Perry worked as a nurse for some time before quitting in order to take a low-paying job that would give him time to write. He is the author of several books, including Truck: A Love Story and, most recently, Coop: A Year of Poultry, Pigs and Parenting. Now a full-time writer, Perry is also an active member of his local volunteer firefighting department.

4:30–5:30 p.m.

The Essay as a Way of Discovery – Scott Russell Sanders, Seminary Chapel

One of the most intriguing aspects of the essay is the spectacle of a mind searching for a way through some difficult terrain. The terrain may be emotional, intellectual, or geographical; the difficulty may arise from uncertainty or complexity, from confusion or pain, or from the mystery that surrounds and saturates all of existence. Scott Russell Sanders considers the search for pattern and meaning that occurs not only in the preliminary stages of writing but also in the composition process.

Scott Russell Sanders is an essayist, fiction writer and memoirist who taught English at Indiana University for nearly forty years. He has published over twenty books, including, most recently, the spiritual memoir A Private History of Awe, and A Conservationist Manifesto, which is a discussion of the current environmental dilemma. Having recently retired in 2009, Sanders now lives in Bloomington, Indiana, with his wife, Ruth.

7:30–8:30 p.m.

There But for the Grace of God: What My Writing Has Taught Me About Sin, Redemption, and the Complexity of the Crime-and-Punishment Equation – Wally Lamb, Van Noord Arena

Wally Lamb is a nationally honored teacher and award-winning writer. His first novel, She's Come Undone, was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum Prize for First Fiction. Lamb is also the recipient of an NEA grant for fiction and a winner of the Missouri Review William Peden Fiction Prize. His other novels include I Know This Much Is True and, most recently, The Hour I First Believed, which tells the story of a couple dealing with the aftermath of the Columbine massacre. Lamb is currently an associate professor of creative writing at the University of Connecticut.

Friday, April 16

8:30–9:30 a.m.

Faith and Friction: Memoir as Captivity Narrative – Rhoda Janzen, Gezon Auditorium

Memoirist Rhoda Janzen makes the case that the structure of contemporary memoir is fundamentally Christian, tracing cultural connections that devolve from tales of captivity and release. She examines memoir against the related genres of oral testimony and conversion narrative, linking Americans’ fascination with memoir to current phenomena such as reality television, self-help books, and humor writing.

Rhoda Janzen is a poet and memoirist. In 2006, she released her first collection of poetry, Babel’s Stair. Her most recent book, Mennonite in a Little Black Dress, is a memoir about her return home to her close-knit Mennonite family after being left by her husband and being seriously injured in a carwreck. Jansen is associate professor of English and creative writing at Hope College in Holland, Michigan.

10:00–11:00 a.m.

Poet and Pastor on Patmos – Eugene Peterson, Van Noord Arena

Eugene Peterson is a pastor and author best known for The Message, his translation of the Bibleinto modern language. Peterson has also written several non-fiction books, including Subversive Spirituality and Working the Angles: The Shape of Pastoral Integrity. Over the past few years, Peterson has been working on a five-book spiritual theology series that includes the books Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places and Tell It Slant. He lives in Montana and writes full-time.

11:30 a.m.–12:30 p.m.

Three Reasons to Write – Tim Stafford, Commons Lecture Hall

A writer of both non-fiction and fiction, Tim Stafford considers the difficulties and risks of writing, with a focus on the personal, strategic, and biblical reasons to write as well as we possibly can.

Tim Stafford is a senior writer for Christianity Today and the author of several non-fiction books including Knowing the Face of God: Deepening Your Personal Relationship with God, Surprised by Jesus: His Agenda for Changing Everything in A.D. 30 and Today, and Personal God: Can You Really Know the One Who Made the Universe? Stafford has also written a trilogy of historical fiction called the River of Freedom series. He and his wife live in Santa Rosa, California.

12:45–1:45 p.m.

Lunch Forum – The Great Collision: Writing, Motherhood, and Making Art Amid Chaos

Hosted by Ann Byle and Maryann Lesert, Hiemenga Hall, Room 321

2:00–3:00 p.m.

Young Adult Fiction and the Stewardship of Pain – Sara Zarr, Bytwerk Theatre

Sara Zarr discusses the usefulness of examining the pain of the transition from childhood to adulthood, with particular attention to how this fits in for writers of faith. Can writers act as stewards not only of their own talent but also of the lives (and pain) of their characters?

Sara Zarr is the acclaimed author of novels for young adults, including Story of a Girl, a National Book Award Finalist; Sweethearts, a Cybil Award Finalist; and Once Was Lost, a Kirkus Best Book of 2009. Her short fiction and essays have appeared in Image, Hunger Mountain, and several anthologies. Zarr lives in Salt Lake City, with her husband.

3:30–4:30 p.m.

On Vocation: A Conversation with Parker Palmer, Gezon Auditorium

Parker Palmer reflects on identity, belonging, and finding our God-destined place in the world. Turning to the metaphor of pilgrimage rather than pursuit, he suggests that knowing our weaknesses as well as our strengths may help us live as our true selves. After a brief interview conducted by Darlene Meyering, Palmer answers questions from attendees on the topic of vocation.

Parker Palmer is an author who focuses on issues in education, spirituality, and social change. He earned his doctorate in sociology from the University of California at Berkeley. His works include Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher's Life, A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life. His most recent book is The Promise of Paradox: A Celebration of Contradictions in the Christian Life. In addition to his work as a writer, Palmer is the founder and senior partner of the Center for Courage and Renewal.

7:30–8:30 p.m.

Writers’ Block and My Moment of Prayer – Richard Rodriguez, Van Noord Arena

A son of Mexican immigrants, Richard Rodriguez was born in California. Many of his writings explore his experiences with racial consciousness in America. The book for which Rodriguez is most well known, Hunger of Memory: The Education of Richard Rodriguez, is a narrative about his own development as a literate student in America. Rodriguez’s other books include Brown: The Last Discovery of America and Days of Obligation: An Argument with My Mexican Father, which was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. He writes regularly for several newspapers and magazines and contributes regularly to PBS’s NewsHour. Presently, Rodriguez is writing two books—one concerned with Judaism, Christianity, and Islam and the desert ecology that shaped them. The other is a book on beauty.

Saturday, April 17

8:30–9:30 a.m.

The Creative Life of a Writer: From Ideas to Print – James Schaap, Luci Shaw, and Robert Siegel (Chapel)

Three authors talk about how our early rough materials shape, shift, and form to bring us into fuller writing projects. Participants are invited to trace the things that “feed the well”—from single moments, roughhewn ideas, and chance encounters with books, characters, and news items.

Currently an English professor at Dordt College in Iowa, James Schaap is the author of many books, short fiction pieces, and essays. Some of his books include Touches the Sky and The Secrets of Barneveld Calvary. He has also written Sixty at Sixty: A Boomer Reflects on the Psalms, a book of devotionals inspired by the Psalms. Schaap's most recent book Finding Christmas: Stories of Startling Joy and Perfect Peace, is a collection of seven stories "that show how imperfect people can find joy and grace in an imperfect world. He is currently writing a book that features the memories and stories of families associated with the Rehoboth Mission in New Mexico. Schaap lives in Iowa.

Luci Shaw is a poet who was born in England and has lived in Canada, Australia, and the United States. She has published several volumes of poetry and many other books, including The Crime of Living Cautiously: Hearing God's Call to Adventure, What the Light Was Like, and Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation. Shaw's most recent book is Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit: A Reflection on Creativity and Faith. Shaw often leads writing retreats and workshops and gives lectures on the creative process. She currently lives in Bellingham, Washington.

Robert Siegel is the author of nine books of poetry and fiction. His poems have appeared in the Atlantic and Poetry and have won awards from Poetry, the Transatlantic Review, and the National Endowment for the Arts. His recent books include The Waters Under the Earth and A Pentecost of Finches: New and Selected Poems. Siegel's fiction includes the award-winning Whalesong trilogy, which has been translated into several languages. Siegel is professor emeritus of English at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, where he directed the graduate creative writing program. He lives with his wife near the coast of Maine.

Other sessions that I wanted to attend but missed because there were too many good options. (Also, we left early on Saturday.) I hope to download recordings of these sessions when they become available:

This Is Home: Joshilyn Jackson and Michael Perry in Conversation

A Southern novelist and a Midwestern essayist compare notes on what it’s like to draw on stories from your extended family and your hometown.

Are You There, God? It’s Me, The American Teenager: Faith, Doubt, and Redemption in Young Adult Fiction Donna Freitas, Jenny Han, and Sara Zarr

Three authors share their different perspectives on writing about faith—or writing from a faith-centered worldview—in mainstream contemporary young adult fiction.

An Interesting Moral Education, or, How I Learned to Lie for a Living Matt Ruff

A writer of novels on such diverse subjects as talking dogs in search of heaven, dueling multiple personalities, and covert battles between good and evil, Matt Ruff describes how his worldview and his fiction were shaped by two very different people: his mother, a jungle missionary’s daughter, who showed him how to suspend disbelief; and his father, a hospital chaplain, who taught him to read minds.

The Shadow of My Hand on the Paper: Writing and Living a Life Parker Palmer

May Sarton’s poem, “Now I Become Myself,” offers a vivid image of the hand that writes, shadowing the shape of the writer’s life. Whether we write with pen and paper or at a keyboard, we start with a blank page and fill it with words—just as we fill space and time with our lives. But are time, space, and blank pages really empty? Do we invent our writing and our living? Or do we discover hidden realities with every word and act? Parker Palmer describes how writing is, for him, discovery and invention, just as living is—done in fear and trembling, faith and hope.

It’s Not About Me: Letting the Story Through Sally Lloyd-Jones

Sally Lloyd-Jones shares thoughts on writing, overcoming the critic, and, above all, the importance of getting out of the way and letting the story through.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Day-Before Dis-Dress

Twenty-four hours before the big night: I have reason to fear that our centerpiece flowers could be delivered to Canada. Our keynote speaker (famous lady with famous-er son) phoned me at home today and my kids promptly erupted into a violent argument. And the dress I bought weeks ago in anticipation of this important event could not be altered to fit my pregnant body. Nevertheless, I remain optimistic that it will be a wonderful event with many participants accepting the invitation to support our worthy cause. A full report when I get back from my writing conference. Oh, yes—didn’t I mention? The morning after the banquet, I leave for a somewhat-spontaneous trip to Michigan with my fellow writer-cousin. Life is such an adventure!

P.S. Even though my mother, a very talented seamstress, could not fix my dress, she came through with another one that’s even better than the first. And (of course!) it was a bargain: 3 bucks at Walmart. Now that’s talent!

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Holy Weekend Quirks

My blog has been abysmal of late. I’m sorry. I can’t promise any improvement in the immediate future, but I will post a few things now, for posterity’s sake.

Easter, as I’ve mentioned before, is my favorite holiday. It’s the one most important to me as a Christian, and, in the Northeast United States where we live, it’s poetically situated at a crucial juncture: The time between the cold, dark winter and the warm, sunny spring. Easter is fresh and green and full of promise, like the season of blossoms it precedes.

This Easter, my celebratory preparations were somewhat curtailed by the fundraising banquet I am largely responsible for planning. (The big event is 1 week from today, by the way. At this time next Tuesday, I should be most of the way back from the airport, transporting our guest speaker to the banquet facility.)

But despite my preoccupation, I paused to remember the death and resurrection of my Lord. The weekend was memorable for a few quirky variations of time-honored traditions:

Spanish Service

On Good Friday, Will and I took the kids to visit Grandma Noreen 2 hours away. Grandma (or “Gramma,” as it is spelled on that side of the family) is among the most thoughtful, accommodating people on the planet. She aims to please in every possible way. It’s impossible to dislike her. (I realize this declaration lands me among the 3% of married people worldwide who admire their mothers-in-law.)

When we arrived at Noreen’s house, she had prepared a multi-course Easter meal, with ham, mashed potatoes, corn, strawberry Jell-O salad, tossed salad, and nice, gooey birthday cake for dessert. (I’m sure I’m forgetting something that was on the table. The birthday cake was for Will and Ben’s birthdays—both a month away—but she didn’t want to miss her chance.)

We feasted in the mid-afternoon, napped while Gramma entertained the children, and then in the early evening I set out on my own to find a Good Friday service. I had checked the local paper for service listings, unsuccessfully. Noreen’s Internet service is unbearably slow. So I simply went looking for one. I got into our minivan, surveyed the small city for the nearest steeple, followed the skyline to the church doors, and quietly entered.

I found myself about 15 minutes late for a Mass offered entirely in Spanish. I decided to stay. I determined that it was the symbolic importance of my being there to acknowledge Christ’s suffering and death on the cross that mattered, not my complete comprehension of the language largely foreign to my English ears. I furtively glanced around the sanctuary. I appeared to be the only Caucasian person present. At first I worried that I might be unwelcome, even potentially threatening to people who might consider me a potential spy for immigration officials, scouting out the Holy Day services for people living and working illegally in a farm-dense area of the United States. Then I looked down at my bulging belly and decided I would not be deemed dangerous in my current state, 5 ½ months pregnant in a billowy black top, polyester maternity pants and thick-soled flip-flops (fitting footwear for an unseasonably warm April day).

It was a beautiful if somewhat surreal experience, prompting me to identify with Christians throughout the world observing the occasion.

Egg Surprise

On Holy Saturday, we headed back to A-Town and went straight to an Easter Egg Hunt hosted by friends of friends. It was a low-key affair with a mix of plastic, candy-filled eggs and real ones (the kind laid by chickens). The real eggs, though beautifully colored and glittered, turned out to be raw. The hostess had forgotten to hard-boil them. The inevitable occurred.

Flashy Outfit

On Easter Sunday, we enjoyed a leisurely start. Normally, I like to attend some kind of sunrise service, but with little kids (and a husband who prefers to sleep in), this preference is not practical. Plus, I needed to prepare some food for our second family feast that afternoon. So, I diced, chopped and shredded scalloped potatoes ingredients while the kids ambled downstairs, dug into Easter baskets and readied themselves for church (more or less independently).

Vi, in typical tween fashion, rejected the pretty floral dress I had selected for her, preferring a more subdued shirt/slacks combo my mother recently snagged for her on clearance. Ben settled on a checkered shirt with plain pants, rounding out his outfit with cowboy accessories of boots and a belt with a sizeable silver buckle. Pearl was picture-perfect in her coral linen tea-length dress, complete with a gauzy ribbon bow, white tights and “dancing shoes,” an outfit she’d worn to the Father-Daughter Valentine Dance a few weeks ago.

To accessorize, Pearl selected the fanciest necklace in her jewelry box: A string of tiny Christmas lights that flashes five colors at the press of a button. It was a moment of truth: Would I be one of those mothers who squelched spirit in favor of propriety? No! No, I would not. I let her wear the lights, and I let them flash. After all, both holidays are about the same guy/God.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!