24 • Spring

Spring

These tulips, a gift from my mother-in-law, opened fully today, and struck me as both beautiful and totally vulnerable. What a powerful image that is for us: in her most radiant state, where the fulness of her shape and color are visible, the flower is also totally delicate and powerless. No petals to protect her most inner and valuable self. Isn't that true in our relationships as well? When we are the most open, honest, and true to ourselves, we've also let down our guard. When we are totally intimate with someone emotionally (and physically), we give them power over us. Of course, we trust them to protect us. I suppose this is true also with God. When we are most honest with Him, and shed all of the facades and barriers we put up to "protect" ourselves, and show Him our true beauty (the way we were made in the first place!), how wonderful to His eyes that must be! We become totally vulnerable to His will---and though it sounds frightening to give up the wheel to anyone, who better to pilot the ship than the creator of the both the ship and the ocean themselves!

23 • Monster

Monster

The game Stefanie wanted to play with Yiayia today was called Monster. She would growl at Yiayia, and say "I'm a monster! I'm a monster!"--then tickle Yiayia with her little fingers. But that wasn't enough. Next, Yiayia had to be the monster. Stefanie had her 84-year-old great grandmother chasing her around the dining room, laughing "Monstah, monstah" in her sweet Greek accent. Stefanie's giggles and laughter were all the motivation Yiayia needed to sneak around the back way and surprise Stefanie as she came flying out of the kitchen. On days like today that were mostly melancholy for a woman who deeply misses "the way things used to be," Stefanie's willingness to invite Yiayia into her world is, I believe, a great gift.

22 • Peek!

Peek!

I don't have much to say today. Just that I was so excited to catch this moment on my camera. It kind of reminds me of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Kali dinami to all of my Orthodox friends this last week before Pascha.

21 • Tired

Tired

Even Steve's overalls look tired after a long day working on the new house. The way they hang there on the little hook in the bathroom, they look both rugged and exhausted. And usually dirty. I remember my dad's overalls in a similar way when he did the addition on the house. They are an image of the work. Worn, they are empowering. There are pockets for just about anything you could need or want at your fingertips. They won't slouch. There's no uncomfortable belt. Off, they always carry reminders -- a stain, a little tear, the faint odor of sawdust, paint, or solder. Off, they always look relaxed.

20 • Bread

Bread

Bread is such a labor of love. I think we really take it for granted these days, the way it comes, all sliced and perfect in a plastic bag closed neatly with a clip. We made little Lazarus loaves (Lazarakia in Greek) today, in preparation for tomorrow, the day we remember Christ raising his friend Lazarus from the dead. (I used this recipe from the evlogia blog, but also saw a similar recipe on the OrthodoxMom blog as well.) Nikolas, who loves to "help," actually turned out to be quite strong at kneading the dough. The whole bread-making process is this slow, methodical progression of allowing the dough to do what it has to do. It always amazes me when water, yeast, and flour (and in this case some spices, sugar and oil) transform into warm, comforting loaves of bread.

I can't wait to watch Nikolas and Stefanie pass out the little loaves to some friends tomorrow. "Lazarus, come out!"

Here is the photo progression of the rising of the dough, and the shaping of our little Lazarus men, wrapped as if he were in a tomb.

19 • Eggs

Eggs

Not all all Easter preparations are spiritual. Today my koubara and I filled plastic eggs with all kinds of sweet goodies. (She found an online vender who was willing to sell her all red eggs! Orthodox Christians have traditionally dyed their Easter eggs red to symbolize Christ's sacrifice, which gave forth new life.) I can't wait to see the kids, all dressed and cute, hunting around for the eggs with their friends. I can just see Stefanie running to me all wild-eyed, clutching an egg, saying "Look mom! Look! Look! I found one! I found one red egg! Look mom! Look!" I can also hear the negotiations between the two of them, as I am am guessing Nikolas will finally realize that the chocolate eggs are more valuable than the jelly beans. However it will all go, I am looking forward to the day and all the celebrating!

18 • Palms

Palms

I feel so deeply aware that Holy Week and Pascha are right around the corner. These weeks of preparation have really built up the anticipation! I noticed this icon today, which hangs by my parents' front door, with its collection of palms, daffodils, and bay leaves from the past year's worth of feast days. I love these artifacts we keep visible to remind us of what has happened. Something I remember hearing in school, "Those who do not know history are destined to repeat it," seems appropriate here as well. I'm thinking about Palm Sunday, and how excited everyone was to receive Christ into Jerusalem (he had just raised his friend Lazarus from the dead after all!) -- only to have the tides turn so nefariously just days later is very telling about society. I think the word we used in high school was "lemmings" -- that like these silly animals, so many of us are willing to just follow the crowd, even to our own demise. How can the crowd have gone from lining the streets as if for a King, exclaiming "Hosanna!" on Sunday, to gathering angrily to shout "Crucify Him!" by the end of the week? How different are we, though, when we observe so solemnly the Lenten fast and the church services of Holy Week, and then turn around so shortly after and recommence with our selfish, bad habits or mean-spirited behaviors. How long do we wait before we gossip or ignore, tear down others or build up ourselves? I know it is never very long for me, though I am ashamed to admit it.

May we all hold fast to this love and zeal we feel in our hearts right now, may we hold on to it for longer and longer every year, until we never let go.

17 • Meeting

Meeting

For the most part, children like to play on their own. Of course, they seem to like the presence of a favorite adult (e.g. mom), but they dwell happily in their own world, imagining roads for their toy cars, or tea in their little cups. Slowly, however, they begin to invite others into their play space -- and it's interesting to watch how it happens. They want it on their own terms, of course, and can't seem to understand why everyone wouldn't want to play duck-duck-goose with themselves designated as the first duck-er. One small interaction at a time, they begin to enjoy another's company. Another's smiles. Another's ideas. I think it's a beautiful process of appreciation -- one that is challenged today by the omnipresence of computer and television screens. Nothing can pull you outside of yourself the way the presence of another person, in the flesh, can. And isn't it true this is what our fallen world needs the most?

16 • Click!

Click!

My assistant Nikolas and I were on the prowl for a good picture this afternoon. After some decent shots of flowers, an unmade bed, and our icon corner, we took several of the wild animals that live in the green bin on the bottom shelf.

In the end, however, it was the candid photo of my trusty assistant that I decided was my picture of the day. He seemed to have fun shooting all kinds of pictures -- including every page of his favorite library train book. Like so many parents, I often wonder what hobbies my children will love or will excel at. It's funny -- when I was still pregnant with Nikolas I remember wondering what would make him laugh, eager to be introduced to his sense of humor. Almost five years later I laugh doubly every time he cracks a joke, or does something silly and then shoots me an expectant side glance, waiting for the response. I know I'll need always to remember that the children are their own persons, with their own interests and skills. I am sure that my own parents shake their heads and marvel at how differently the three of us kids turned out. But isn't that the beauty of parenting -- not living vicariously through them, but co-creating them, with God, as unique individuals. As their own unique images of God, they'll each reflect God in their own way, the way Light, shown through a prism, is castacross the wall in a myriad of colors. What a beautiful way to imagine one's family!

15 • Paschal preparations

Paschal Preparations

Sober Paschal preparations have been in full swing for many, many weeks, as we all know. But now, preparations of a different kind are building anticipation for the Feast of Christ's Resurrection in our home and especially the kitchen.

Starting back in early February, the church has been gently (and not-so-gently) guiding us through the steps to clean out our souls, filthy from inattention. Prayer and fasting have been the prescription, and their results are pretty amazing. It's like someone opening the blinds on these first warm sunny days, pulling the drapery all the way back, and allowing the bright light to filter in and reveal that which was hidden in the dark of winter: the dusty cobweb strings hanging in a corner, the fingerprints on the wall, the fine layer of grey that covers the figurines in the curio cabinet. Suddenly it's all visible, and filthy-looking -- and we are oh-so-motivated to conquer it all before the arrival of guests on Easter. But for the light of the Sun, we may not have even realized the house wasn't clean.

And then there's the baking -- the baking! With still two weeks to go, we've already baked the carrot cake cupcakes (now in the freezer), the kourabiethes (now soaking in the powdered sugar), and the tiropites (frozen and ready to go in the oven). Tonight we rolled out the first batch of koulourakia (pictured). All these special things we do to entice our guests, to show them how loved they are, and to set apart this day as particularly special.

Similarly, of course, we should be making a special place in our hearts for the arrival of the Guest of Honor. It's hard to believe that just two short weeks from right now we'll be in church, eagerly awaiting the Light of the Resurrection. I get a little shiver just thinking about that moment when all of these preparations come to fruition. There is nothing like Easter, nothing like the joy in your soul after preparing for the celebration. Nothing like opening wide the door at which Christ is always patiently knocking, confident that the dust and the cob webs have been wiped away, and that the table is filled with food appropriate for such a momentous occasion. Kalo Pascha everyone -- may these last two weeks of your lenten journey be blessed!

14 • Splash

Splash

The kids *love* to play with Steve. The house is never as loud or as joyful as when Daddio is "on the job" -- that's when the Big Bear gives rides, when the Squeaky Mouse sneaks into armpits for a nibble, and when the Hungry Eagle gives chase around the dining room table. The bathtub quickly becomes a stormy sea, and truncated Solo cups the unfortunate mariners. Whatever adventure is brewing, the kids are ready -- energetic participants in the world Steve creates. You would think, the way they squeal, that Steve really did just transform into a Big Blue Whale (who is the biggest animal in the ocean and therefore the strongest and fastest in any kind of chase or competition). These are the every-day memories I hope the children will keep and cherish always -- I know I will.

13 • Going 'round

Going 'round

We rode the carousel today.

The best part was reading on the children's faces what they were feeling in their stomachs. Their eyes were round, their lips turned in hesitant smiles as they clutched the golden poles. I thought this picture captured Niko's nervous excitement, as well as the motion of the ride.

12 • Water lilly

Water lilly

I understand Monet so much better now, having seen even this rather pitiful-looking water lilly. It was floating in a murky goldfish pond at the greenhouse near the park we visited today. You can see the pennies littering the bottom. This flower captivated me, despite its "aged" appearance. Was it the ray of sunlight? Was it the contrast of the white against the filth? Was it the flower's quiet dignity in this tucked-away corner?

I am going to leave my thoughts right there. I have had a beautiful, sun-filled, love-filled day, and while I see all kinds of places my thoughts can go, I am just going to let them rest on the mysterious beauty of this flower. If you want to share any thoughts, you are welcome to.

11 • Sun!

Sun!

The warm weather and sunshine was greeted today by much running, jumping, chasing, building (of the outdoor playhouse), and general happiness. Somehow I have captured Stefanie in a few of these very athletic-looking poses (check out this one from soccer last year). In reality, her trot is more adorable than fast, but boy does she love running. I guess it's kind of like my singing: God said make a joyful noise, with no comment on the actual veracity of the pitch. I'm just glad to see the children so joyful, literally asking if they can have "a few more minutes of sunshine." I am filled with so much hope for this coming season: Pascha, then hopefully moving into the new house--and all of the new possibilities that will open up for us. May the sun continue to shine!

10 • Incogniko

Incogniko

I've often marveled at how much fun disguises are. Who doesn't love a great costume? From masquerade balls to Halloween, there's an excitement about pretending to be someone, about not being yourself. The children have loved these silly little glasses -- they are absolutely giddy thinking no one can recognize them in a mustache. Why is that? Is it the humor of a surprise? Is it the same reason we wrap presents or pretend we've forgotten someone's birthday up until the moment she walks into the dark room filled with friends and balloons?

I was initially going to connect this love of disguise with make up and other cosmetic things we do to hide ourselves behind something "better" -- but now I don't think they're the same thing. At least not entirely. Some people are very uncomfortable in their skin, and hide behind all kinds of make-up, clothing, styles, etc. (I'm thinking about "goth" black-lined eyes; colored hair; push-up/down/in garments; clothing that distracts you from seeing the person wearing it). But the innate love of disguise I'm talking about includes the big reveal: Stefanie wouldn't be the least bit interested in wearing those glasses all day. The fun is in tossing them off and hearing the surprised "Oh! Stefanie, it's you!" from everyone in the room.

Although, maybe the truth is, all of us who hide behind the continuum of every-day disguises probably do, deep down, love that we can toss it all off. At the end of the day, we can toss it all off and know that our moms, our husbands, our children see us, and that they really weren't fooled all along--and cherish us just the same.

9 • Sharing

Sharing

Blueberries are special things in our house. They're so special because they can disappear in the blink of an eye -- and often do. Stefanie has been known to devour an entire bowl of blueberries in the time it takes me to go into the kitchen to get a second bowl to split them with her brother. Well, today she did her share of devouring, but she also did a little bit of sharing. Every fourth blueberry or so she'd offer to Steve. It was what we call in our family "A great act of love." These delicious blueberries were courtesy of Nana and Deda -- Thank you!

8 • Reunion

Reunion

This lovely lady is a dear friend of my mom's. A lifetime ago they lived across the street from one another, raising their small children, navigating motherhood and marriage without family nearby. She has come to visit for the weekend -- a Christmas gift from her daughter, who is my age. It's amazing to watch the generations shift, to see how so much can change and grow and develop -- her shy daughter is now an assistant state's attorney fighting for the rights of battered women. Her gregarious, mischievous daughter is now a mom herself, running a daycare out of her home. Mrs. J herself is now a teacher of special needs first graders. Yet sitting around the table, it's as if nothing has changed. In the 15 years since they last saw one another, the laugh lines may have deepened, but somehow so have the wells of love. There has been a giddy excitement in the house as we prepared for her arrival -- her arrival along with the flood of memories from those years in New Mexico. But she doesn't only bring memories, she's here to make them as well. And as naive as it sounds, I am always (pleasantly!) amazed as my parents continue to experience life. I think from childhood we put our parents in a box -- we assume that they always have been, and always will be, a certain way. We imagine that people of a certain age (or age relative to our own) fit a certain type. But I learned tonight that my mom wasn't always the guru of pumpkin pie -- it was Kathy who introduced her to the art of pie-making. And tomorrow these two grandmothers aren't going to sit and drink tea all day and catch up: they're going to go to the mall and get manicures. (!) May my life be filled with such wonderful friends and may I surprise my children as I walk through the many stages of life.

7 • Through the window

Through the window

It's a little like Alice peering through the looking glass. Here is Niko peering through the window we removed in order to facilitate pouring a new concrete floor in the basement. The basement is so raw, dirty, broken, old, and Nikolas is so filled with youth and wonder and innocence. Yet here they are, juxtaposed and intertwined.

If you want to see more pictures of the big trucks and the concrete work, you can see them here.

6 • Friends

Friends

I love this. Stefanie learned how to "tell secrets" today. All day she kept asking "Can I tell you somefing in your ear?" (in her adorable way of lifting the pitch word by word until she is high in the treble clef). With a nod, she would brush her hair from her face, lean in close, and whisper "sha sha sha shi sha" (or some similar derivative). The whole thing was quite funny -- both for Stefanie and for her confidante. Yiayia indulged these secrets for 15 or 20 minutes, while they colored note cards together on her lap. They both looked so happy and at ease.

5 • Preparations

Preparations

My dear dear friend Ani is getting married soon, and this vibrant assortment of color and texture is for me to wear to her wedding! I love how ornate and celebratory everything is for an Indian wedding. The richness of the fabrics, the gold and embellishment -- it is filled with such joy! A wedding day (or days plural for some!) is such an important time for so many people. Obviously, it is the beginning of a new life for the bride and groom -- but it is also both an end and a beginning for the parents. It is a union of not only the couple, but also the families -- and such a momentous occasion should be celebrated with much regalia! Ani and Pavan are both such kind, generous souls, and I pray for every blessing in their marriage!

4 • Small tragedies

Small Tragedies

Life is very emotional for a two year old. The most simple statement of fact (e.g. there are no more blueberries) can turn on the waterworks. Sometimes I know deep down they are manipulative: a test of my honesty, my strength, my resolve. Other times her little eyes are so wide with -- crazed! -- desperation I know that whatever minor tragedy has currently befallen her (e.g. the two Legos will not come apart) is truly, to her core, unbearable.

My own tears have flown more freely than I ever liked -- even as an adult there have been times I couldn't hold them back even in really inappropriate moments (e.g. with my boss). With the children, it is tempting to totally dismiss their tears. Nothing is really all that wrong. But while that is the truth, it is also the truth that they feel something is horribly wrong.

I remember the first time I went with my mom to buy make-up. I think all we were getting was some concealer or maybe pressed powder. One would think it was a happy, "grown-up" occasion for a young teen. I was miserable. Presented with the first decision (something like "This shade or that one?"), I broke down in tears. I'm sure my mother was taken aback and exasperated, the two of us standing in Wal-Mart with the usual flow of people around us. But to me, buying this make-up was admitting that I wasn't pretty enough on my own. That I was entering a world of masks, of standing on my head to impress people who actually didn't care all that much about me. But I wanted to do this -- and that was maybe the most upsetting.

I'm not knowledgeable enough about children, psychology, or even spiritual matters to really know when we should engage these emotions, when we should work through them, or if we should ignore them entirely. It does seem to me, however, that acknowledging truth is always a good thing. And so when it is two Legos that refuse to let go of one another: "I know you're really frustrated about this, Stefanie, but if you ask me for help, I bet we can figure it out!" I was so grateful for my boss acknowledging my discomfort (read: flowing tears) about a situation when I worked at the high school, but continuing the meeting with fairness and honesty.

In the end, I am glad for our tears, because they are an obvious sign to the outside world about what is going on on the inside. And in my book, knowing the truth is always better than not.

3 • Look!

Look!

Yesterday we went on our first walk in -- literally -- months. The sun was shining all day, and the car's temperature reading hovered around 40, which felt to me like I may as well dig out my flip-flops. Of course, there is still plenty of snow on the ground, but that was suddenly inconsequential. We could go for a walk! The kids were thrilled. I know how much I have missed the warmth of the sun on my face--or at least how tired I am of being inside, bouncing solely between the kitchen, the computer, and the couch, it seems. But I had no idea how much the kids had missed the outdoors. Stefanie, who was hardly talking last time we really played outdoors, said very plainly "I'm going for a walk! I wuv walks."

The walk around the block quickly turned into an adventure. Stefanie, whose name these days is more often "Dora," warned us of the dangerous snakes, crocodiles, lizards, and bugs. She and "her cousin Diego" climbed the tall mountains (of snow), they pointed out the hiding snakes, and were on a mission to find pine cones. "If you see a pine cone, say pine cone!" they chanted.

Well, it wasn't too long before we all yelled "Pine cone!" and my two explorers traipsed into our neighbor's front yard and squatted very seriously in the mud, deciding which pine cones we would be taking home.

"Come here mom! Look! Look at this pine cone!" And it is pretty amazing. All winter the earth seemed asleep under the blanket of snow -- in many ways I felt the same. But beneath the frosty snow lay these treasures, waiting -- preparing? -- until the time would come to be revealed. Of course, these poor pine cones (besides never standing a chance among curious children like mine) likely won't ever do the job their counterparts in a proper forest might. But I none-the-less love this emerging Spring image, right alongside the brave little daffodil shoots that peeked out yesterday morning.

I welcome the spring, the warmth, the blue sky. I welcome the change. I welcome the children's thrill in a simple patch of snow and dried pine cones.

2 • Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek

This picture captures what happens when I see a great photo opportunity and then ruin it by taking too long to take a picture that is in focus. This could have been solved by not trying to take pictures with only natural light on a cloudy day, indoors, under a table. Without a tripod. These things, I am quickly seeing, are part of the art of photography -- finding the "inspiration" is only the first step. I have to take the picture correctly (400 or 800? AWB? FOCUS! Be still!) and quickly. For now, I will hope that tomorrow is sunny.

1 • Yiayia's Blanket

Yiayia's Blanket

Yiayia's blankets aren't fancy. She uses the same stitch for each one. But they are warm--warm in how they keep out the cold air, and warm in how she must hold us in her heart as she stitch-by-stitch adds row after row after row. This blanket is for Stefanie. I'm not sure how much of Yiayia Stefanie will remember -- but right now they are "friends." Stefanie loves to bring Yiayia her dolls, to play catch with a balloon, to spontaneously exclaim, "You're the best!" and wrap her short little arms around Yiayia's sweatered shoulders. I can only imagine that as Yiayia's fingers rock back and forth she is savoring those sweet moments in her mind, and that as she tugs at the length of yarn, sending the skein rolling into Lego territory, she is perhaps praying for all of the milestones of Stefanie's future. Maybe this length of yarn has her thinking ahead to all the years of school, and praying for good teachers and a safe place to learn. Maybe the next length is a prayer for a good and kind husband. Her hands have seen so much--from her first home on Zakinthos, a war, an arranged marriage, a new country, the birth of children, the sickness and death of relatives. Those same hands, soft with wrinkles, are caressing each inch of yarn, as her thoughts and prayers will undoubtedly touch each moment of my children's lives, no matter how long she is with us. That at least is how I feel, especially when I crawl into bed at night under the weight of a blanket crocheted by my own great-grandmother, may her memory be eternal. And perhaps that is the point as well--that through these sweet expressions of hand-made blankets, we can remember them, love and pray for them as well.

The beginning

I've been inspired.

A woman who I have only recently become acquainted with, Molly Sabourin, has not only written a heartfelt and helpful book, Close to Home, but also posts podcasts on Ancient Faith Radio. The writer in me fell in love immediately with her work--and in love with her for doing the work.

And then, to top it all off, I came across her Flickr page while looking for images to accompany an article I wrote this past fall. She was in the midst of a fabulous project: Project 365, in which she is taking one (amazing!) photo every day and posting it.

I LOVE this idea. I have long been looking for an excuse to both take pictures and to blog -- and I have finally found it. Thank you Molly! With my new-to-me Canon 20D and whatever few minutes I can carve out of the day, I plan to undertake this daily exercise.

So, I will begin a Flickr set, in which I will number photos (as Molly has done), and I will also keep this blog, where I can explain, record, or muse about the photo, its subject, etc. oooh! I am excited!

I have taken and downloaded a set of pictures, and narrowed Day 1 down to three photos. Would you be so kind as to vote in the poll on the right about which you think deserves to be the first photo in this project?

Option 1: Yiayia fashioning a blanket

Option 2: Surprise!

Option 3: Little fingers

Thank you for reading.

Love, Toni