Christmas 2022

 

Maya Angelou wrote Amazing Peace nearly twenty years ago, but its refrain of a family’s journey through darkness of
despair into the light of hope rings truer to me now than ever. For our family, 2022 has been marked by strife, a war-torn country and battle-weary souls. Ukraine fights against its oppressor, fights to have peace, to have freedom, to have food and joy for its children. And we fight the scars of trauma and illness, left by a country on an innocent orphan. Trauma, like peace, cannot be contained. It spreads, it consumes, it devours. But with each battle scar, like Ukraine, we can claim a seemingly impossible victory. Ever the optimist, this year I am choosing to find peace in not giving up. Sometimes that is a victory, because unlike society’s lies, I know that success does not just mean moving forward, but acceptance of where you’re at, an understanding of possible change, and a vision of future joy. So, through heartbreaking disruption from Covid, shifting seasons of friendships, and an ever intricate but transparent spiritual walk, we settle more into ourselves, at peace with ourselves.

Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us~As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again on the faces of children

Evelyn found her own bit of peace this year, as she started her high school career at Tacoma’s infamous Stadium High. Straight A’s, performing in the Fall Musical, and applying for the State Senate Page Program, she also faced disappointments from Covid and worked to build new friendships. The highlight of her summer was her community volunteer work, a continued goal for the coming year. She is on a beautiful but difficult journey of self-awareness and future plans, but she travels with grace and a good sense of humor. And always, always, ALWAYS, singing!

Cecilia found peace a little more intangible on her journey into the next phase-middle school. But after settling in and (mostly) giving up the idea of homeschooling (never, ever would happen!) she has blossomed with new friendships, is developing a strong school work ethic, and most of all, has found dance to be a safe, liberating, and phenomenal place of growth. She started the year working hard on her dancing and half way

through, a little dance switch popped on in her head and she is a sight to behold!

Hope spreads around the earth, brightening all things

Even hate, which crouches breeding in dark corridors

Max struggles to find peace, his default setting is anxiety and frustration, so as a result, we all struggle to be at peace with Max. But, like his birth country, he is David to Goliath, and we will keep going forward, even if going forward means we just haven’t stepped back. We have chosen not to tell him about the events in Ukraine, but I wanted to take a moment to let you all know how much your thoughts, prayers, and support mean to us. We continue to connect with different members of his birth family on a regular basis. They are fleeing, fighting, crying for their children, sitting in the cold darkness, and above all else, like Max, like our family, persevering. Sometimes the only peace you can cling to is the peace of holding on, however 

tenuous to what you know that can be true.

We hear a sweetness. The word is Peace.

I don’t know what I’ll think when I look back on 2023. I hope that next year when I write to you, I start our letter on a joyful note. And truthfully, we have so much to be thankful for this year. We love our new house, and I was able to return to teaching at the dance studio. The girls are excelling, and Max is getting the supports he
needs. Bard took the boat out, it broke down, he took it again, it broke down, he took it out again, and it worked! So we are grateful, while still struggling to work through heartache and tension. But one thing I do know for sure, however hilarious it sounds, the sweetest spot for all of us this year has been the sweet addition to our family, Pikalu! Because of course, no matter how sad the day, how hard the road ahead, a puppy’s love is unconditional. A love that we can all learn from, as we begin a new year.

We Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers,

Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.

Peace.

Christmas 2021

The tension of advent season perfectly captures the unresolved conflict of 2021. In our family’s faith journey, advent is waiting for the coming of Christ. Who has already come. It’s searching for a peace that has already been found, struggling to give into calm while being inundated with chaos. It is Christmas. The striking paradox of this past year is that as a country we achieved healing, while growing in ignorance based sickness. We gained justice while taking steps back toward oppression, and we achieved freedoms only to be thrown into fear. 2021, we survived, we are tired of surviving and long to thrive. But still we wait. We move toward what is coming, what has come.

Much of this year felt like moving into the unknown. Our family started the year by becoming virtual caretakers for Bard’s grandmother, and that relationship shaped us deeply, culminating in her crossover to eternity in August. We now have no remaining grandparents left, between us, and that realization has pointed me toward the past, toward appreciating family history more than ever, and to finding special ways to celebrate their legacy. We keep them alive by telling their stories in new ways and with new people, and in that way, they continue to influence who we are and who we become. This truth hit home particularly hard when we decided to sell our house of nearly 15 years and move to a new home that would allow for the growth of relationships and space as the children enter their teen years. This decision coincided with the passing of Bard’s grandma and just so happened to also run parallel to Bard starting a new position at Amazon and myself returning to the museum world after time off due to Covid. The old and the new could not be more apparent. The timing and the decisions are still reverberating through our family, but we are grateful that we can face struggle and growth together, that everything can change, and we can remain the same.

I suppose no age embodies that principle more than becoming a teenager, so Evelyn’s turning 13 this year was perfect! As she enters her last year of middle school, she sings with the choir, dances onstage, matures as a piano player and does it all with humble leadership while laughing, getting food stuck in her braces, and caring for her sister and brother with a gentle (and only sometimes whiny) fierceness. Oh, did I mention she’s on ASB and helped with three political campaigns? Evelyn for president, 2044! 

Cici is not shying away from milestones either and will soon finish off her elementary school years, much to her mother’s dismay! She dove back into dance this year with impressive determination. With 8 classes a week and counting, she had to step down from piano, but did so with a (sometimes whiny) maturity and continues to face life with timid shyness and loud laughs. She grew friendships and read 3 million books. And for the third year in a row, she is intent on becoming a veterinarian.

And Max. I never know what to write about this kid. We fought for Max again, and again he fought us. Our relationship, in every way, is defined by perseverance. Even in 2021, people with disabilities live an invisible life and I will fight with everything I have to make sure he is seen and heard. Meanwhile, he makes himself seen and heard by flooding our bathroom to play sink or float, taking us on 6am walks around the neighborhood, and reminding us that change is hard, but inclusion is beautiful. Max has to work harder than anyone else, which makes even small victories big, another lesson for all of us. 

 In many ways, this has been a dark year for our family and advent marks the darkest time of year, physically, spiritually. But the tension is that it is also the most joyful time of year: darkness points us toward Light. So we wait, we move toward deliverance, if we can’t hope, we just keep going, and that, for now, is hope enough. I have learned so much this year about the despairing cycles of mental illness and the sacrificial calling to serve family and I’ve learned that love can be ugly, painful, and invisible. But as we near the end of 2021, and I look back, I can see a thread of grace. My hope is that our experiences are woven into a restorative tapestry, that this year our family gains an unshakeable truth that we can be broken but thrive, sorrow points us to joy, death begats life. And we begin again.

Christmas 2020

 

I’d heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord~But you don’t really care for music do you?

Leonard Cohen wrote Hallelujah as a secular hymn, a tongue in cheek conversation with God that tumbles through humor, disappointment, success, all while singing Hallelujah-a Hebrew concept that tells us to sing to God. Relentlessly.

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth~The minor fall, the major lift~The baffled king composing “Hallelujah”

He strips his art to its most basic musical elements and describes David as an unknowing artist.

                             

Hallelujah.

I first resonated with this song after the 2016 election. Watching Kate McKinnon sing it felt both hopelessly tragic and somehow cathartic.

                                    Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

Each verse contains struggle, darkness, failings. But each chorus sings Hallelujah. Always pointing us back to God, turning away from temporal loss and toward eternal strength. I could     write of the grief of 2020, the lost jobs, the sacrifices, the disappointment in my children’s eyes.

There’s a blaze of light in every word~It doesn’t matter which you heard~The holy or the broken hallelujah

And therein lies the crux of this year. Holding both sorrow and joy in the same hand, loosely, equally. Our family has changed this year. My job is gone, the kids haven’t been to school since March 17^th, we cancelled family trips and birthday parties, simple family moments were stolen away by ignorance and fear.

And even though it all went wrong~I’ll stand before the lord of song~With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah.

Our family has been changed by this year. Bard has his job and received a promotion. Through three separate trips to the ER, we are somehow still healthy. We’ve sailed the Sound, marched for Black Lives, hosted countless virtual book clubs, and made connection an unshakeable priority for our family. We’ve lived generously, safely, and together. But most of all, we’ve watched the entire world take a collective breath and rise up with the unmatched creativity of the human spirit to say, “We’ve got this.” From museums creating virtual exhibits, to online bookstores offering free subscriptions, the world told my children it was going to be okay. From porch drop offs to streaming dance classes to mutual aid to a map of houses with candy chutes for Halloween, Tacoma told my children it was going to be okay.

I don’t know what next year holds. I could never have predicted the battle we have faced for this year. As Evelyn fights to become a teenager, while separated from all that should entail-friends, parties, and simple physical distance from family. She overcomes with music, with prayer, with theatre (zoom) performances, and with tears. Cecilia fights her emotions; her anger and her fear, fights to make friends in a school that is still new, while her microphone continues to quit working, fights to say kind words and to grow as a dancer. And Max. Max gives in to the lessening of stimulation due to the shutdown. He thrives and then we go continue the war to ensure he has the services he needs for his education and the environment he needs for peace. And then we lay down the fight and go for a bike ride. We sit in the sunroom listening to the silence. We plant a garden and we go for a swim. We rest in the unchangeable. Because.

Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

Leonard Cohen said, “Hallelujah can come out of things that have nothing to do with religion.” Which is true, because Hallelujah has nothing to do with religion and everything to do with Truth. Joy found in sorrow. Love. Beauty out of ashes. Hallelujah.

Christmas 2019

Although 2019 has been filled with many tremendous accomplishments, I must admit, I am not at all sorry to see it go. And the 20s are roaring in, with so many new beginnings for us this year, our theme is one of transition-finding the same amid the change.

This year I finished my Nonprofit Certificate at UW, left my job at the Tacoma Art Museum and started a new position, with LeMay-America’s Car Museum. I’m coordinating a program that connects schools with museum field trips and classroom visits, focusing on giving students in underserved communities more STEAM opportunities. Re-entering the work force has been a huge transition for our whole family. Bard has been able to start working from home two days a week to ease us in and his steadiness has been an eye in the storm of change for our family.

Speaking of our theme, Evelyn takes the cake with transitioning from private to public school AND starting middle school! In true Evelyn fashion, she is bemused by my assumption that this would be difficult and shrugs off questions with a “Mom” (spoken with two syllables and sometimes an eye roll!) She loves school, her teachers love her, and right now she is busily working on her research project-bomb sniffing rats. Ugh. Anyway, a starring role in Seussical the Musical over the summer, performing with our studio’s dance team, spraining (not breaking!) her arm, and taking up the oboe for band class round out Evelyn’s year. Transition? What transition?!

Not to be out done, Cecilia also made the switch to public school. This has been such a great (and long time coming) decision for our family. But I was a little worried as to how my introverted, slightly anxious, and all the way feisty middle child would handle such a big step. Not to minimize how hard she worked to adjust to a new school, but I was so relieved at the apparent ease in which she jumped in and made new friends, mastered a different school environment, and maintained a good attitude! She loves her new teacher, has added acro classes to her dance repertoire, and is just one inch short of being able to do splits on both her right and left legs! But most importantly, Cici is thriving, less anxious in a more supportive environment, and is comfortable with her ability to be herself in new situations.

Now, if you really want to hear how Max’s kindergarten transition has gone, you should probably have a MA in psychology and also buy me a stiff drink. But in lieu of that happening, I’ll see if I can sum it up for you. Awful. Awful. Want more? Okay…specialists, lawyers, principal’s office, six IEP meetings, countless calls and emails, never-ending sleepless nights, tears, tears, tears. And through it all we are continually blessed by the beautiful people who surround Max and love on him through his trauma, through his varying abilities. They believe that he can be more than who his past tries to trap him into being, and they call him to grow toward a future of hope, love, and strength.  Max is actually the most perfect picture of how we all handle transitions. We might make it look prettier on the outside, but on the inside, we are often a mess too. But if we persist, if we fight, and if we show one ounce of the determination that Max uses each and every day, we can overcome more than we know.

I added a new tattoo this year, a phoenix rising with all different phrases about Rising Up interwoven amid the tail feathers (don’t worry, you know the Hamilton lyrics are there too!) But recently I’ve been reminded of my tattoo for Max, “Love Never Fails.” The thing about the concept of unfailing love is that it assumes love can fail. And it can. We don’t like to admit it, but when we are stressed, when people make us angry, when we are overwhelmed and under-supported, love can fail. But it doesn’t have to, and, it’s not meant to. Love that never fails is something that is outside of us, something that is bigger than us and is not defined by our circumstances. Transitions come and go; but Love never changes. And when we are confronted with trying times, unloving people, and we want to give up, we can overcome. Because Love never gives up on us.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

2018.

2018. I don’t know that this year has been more busy than any other (although I can’t really remember the whole year) but sometimes certain types of busyness are more exhausting than others. The theme for this year has been advocacy. On so many levels we have spent our time and energy advocating for our children, for representation within their schools, for growth in our church community, and for the oppressed in our own city and country. It’s an odd mingling of discouragement and empowerment and a beautiful way to see both God and people at work, making a difference in our own lives and the lives of those around us.

I was blessed to work with artists from the homeless community this summer and was struck once again by how we so often look at people differently if they are not what society tells us is the ideal we should all strive for. The actors wore masks, because we do not see people for who they really are, but by embracing community they were able to remove each other’s masks and be seen; loved and valued. This year I hope we have seen each person stripped from their place in politics, religion, chaos and controversy and just embraced him or her as being made in the very image of God. Intrinsically valuable.

Evelyn has often been a leader for us in this area, seeing a person of need outside the grocery store and asking if we could buy him something to drink. Attending protests at the Immigrant Detention Center with Bard and chanting for freedom and human decency to win out over hate and fear. She has done all the worldly successful things as well-good grades, performing with her dance team and in theatre productions, piano recitals and even a camp for girls interested in government-where she was elected a Senator! But as she races toward middle school and all things grown up, I am confident that it is her ability to see the other as her own, to fight for humanity, and to lead with love which will define her story.

Speaking of fighting, that brings me to my middle child! Oh Cecilia. This one will not rest until the entire world is fair, so she has a long battle ahead of her but is fortunately blessed with the spirit to match the challenge. Cici surpasses many academic goals, piano lesson benchmarks, and competitions easily. But she is also performing with the dance team this year, and is in the more advanced dance classes-producing a lesson in perseverance & humility. We’re walking through some anxiety issues together and it has given our family the opportunity to learn how stress affects each of us and finding the right balance in our lives.

And then there was Max. This year was a BIG year in the life of Max. We fought our school district to have him repeat preschool another year instead of having him start kindergarten as a very young five-year old. And won. It was a huge accomplishment and one that meant Max could continue to be in the place that is the very best for his growth. And in just a few short months we have already seen tremendous achievements from him, hitting benchmarks in December that his teachers thought would take him until June to accomplish. Good job Maxi, you just keep proving those experts wrong, we believe in you!

It’s always a bit odd to look back over the year and try to determine what was meaningful to our family and how we’ve grown together. We experienced all the usual- swimming lessons, family trips, doctors’ visits (and more doctors’ visits), school events, bike rides, and birthdays. While fun and often important, none of those activities really define us as a family. The real moments from the year are when we sat on our family’s back porch while visiting them in Boston. When we made it a priority every Saturday to share a special breakfast with each other before splitting ways for a crazy day. When we ate pizza with a group of church friends, working together to help a school on the East Side honor its teachers. When we brought cookies to our teachers on strike and showed up again and again at rallies and protests to speak on behalf of those our government tries to oppress. And moment after countless moment, we are reminded of how our community carries us through life’s trials and triumphs. We are not alone. We are together, with you, ready for a new year, to love in little ways that bring about big changes and to share a very needed light that pierces the darkness and brings hope to us all.

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers. Look heavenward and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves, And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation: Peace, My Brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, My Soul. ~ Maya Angelou

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I started this year by reading the biographies of Maya Angelou and finished it by designing a multi-media art exhibit that would honor her legacy as an artist and a person. Why would I do such a thing, you may ask? Read on friend, but it bears witness as to why I feel important to start our Christmas Letter with lines from her poem, Woman Work.

Shine on me, sunshine ~ Rain on me, rain ~ Fall softly, dewdrop ~ And cool my brow again.

We thoroughly enjoyed all the endless fun that three children and countless blessings bring, but I think a theme this year has been perseverance. Life is not a sprint, it’s a marathon and the strength we gain by pursuing what is right amidst constant challenges brings a deep joy that I just don’t think can be found any other way. Part of that joy is you-walking this path with us-we couldn’t do it alone, nor are we meant to.

Evelyn has had her own share of difficulties this year. She was diagnosed with a sesame allergy (that is anaphylactic) on top of her nut allergies, and also faced more than one struggle at school and dance. And, let’s face it, she’s getting older, closer to THAT age, and although I am in denial, it has started to present new hurdles as well. Through it all, in typical Evelyn fashion, she found joy. I’m so grateful that she has a strong foundation in which she feels loved and safe. I know it will guide her always. Oh, also, she won the school spelling bee, was asked to join our studio’s dance team, became a much stronger swimmer, won the interschool speech meet for her grade, tested three grades above her level, organized a lemonade stand to benefit hurricane victims, and performed countless times on stage. So it wasn’t all hard. Well, she also broke her arm. Yes, again! 

Cecilia. Cici feels life very deeply, a beautiful and obstinate characteristic! She faced a big transition this year as she started first grade-which meant she would be in school all day for the first time-and her best little buddy from kindergarten would no longer be in her class-which meant a great deal of heartache. At the same time, this little mama’s girl had to deal with her mama suddenly being gone all day on the weekends, a reality that she very much resented! But with a little time, some slightly odd decisions to start meowing a lot, and quite a bit of extra snuggles from both daddy and mommy, she has come through like a champ. Her lowest grade at school is a 97 (!), she was chosen to sing a solo in the school Christmas program, she has danced and performed all year and talk about perseverance-when this kid is given a challenge-whether it’s working on better manners or mastering chapter books, she rises to the occasion!

Oh Max! Little Maxi bulldozed through his own set of obstacles this year. He decided that talking was a great way to communicate and blew through major milestones in speech therapy, leaving both his therapist and myself delightfully surprised! He is eating better (FINALLY!) and plays happily with other children now too. He is learning shapes, letters, and a lot of self-care. But, the funnest (and funniest) change in Max is he now likes candy. We all realized this as a family when Max found his sisters’ bag of candy corn (used as bribery, I mean rewards, while Miss Chelle was shooting these amazing photos) and proceeded to put the entire bag into his mouth at once! His sisters did not find it nearly as funny as I did.

Life is funny sometimes too, isn’t it? At Christmas last year if you had told me that I would end this year by going back to school and pursuing a new career, I would have laughed out loud.  But that is exactly what happened! I just finished my first quarter, back at my alma mater, University of Washington. I’m adding a minor to my BA degree. My hope is to move toward a career in the museum industry, helping the community to engage with art, and to that end I’ve taken a position with Visitor Services at the Tacoma Art Museum. It’s only one class at a time and one or two shifts a week, but I’m in love. Bard has been amazing, taking on all sorts of extra work around the house, while still working a million hours at his own job. Even with all that he still finds time for meaningful moments-reading bedtime stories to the kids and protesting the actions against immigrants who want to create their own stories in our country.

Storm, blow me from here ~ With your fiercest wind

Let me float across the sky ~ Til I can rest again

At the end of the year, I can say this, we have fought the good fight, we have finished the race, we have kept the faith. And we will do it all again next year, as a family, as a community. For joy.