Lately I've been noticing how often we hear about godly people. Godly men, godly women, godly leaders, etc.
I like the term just fine, but in some sense "godly" can be ethereal and fairly open to opinion. A godly person can earn the term for being nice, "good," an involved parent, etc.
Isn't that part of the reason why Christ came down? To show us God as man? And while I would never dare claim that I fully understand Christ, He showed us the way to live as humans. His example is sacrificial, obedient, generous, etc.
So my new consideration is not "Is he/she godly," but rather, "Is he/she Christ-like?"
Gotta tell ya, some of the godly people don't make the cut. Including me. LORD HELP ME.

Saturday, October 09, 2010
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Yippee Skippee!
Like a shopaholic the day before a new Bloomie's opens, I am one excited little girl! Tomorrow marks the opening of the fall Famer's Market at Town and Country. The main grower at this FM is McClendon's Select--the kind of family-run (though large-scale) operation where both father and son (farmers and business entrepreneurs alike) are both on-site to answer questions about growing methods and greet friendly shoppers. This is such a great market--excellent prices (hasta la vista, Whole Foods!) and beautiful produce (they supply their goodies to top valley chefs).
And just in time! The weather should be cool, breezy and very, very autumn-like.
You can read more about Bob McClendon here or check out the farm blog here.
I also blogged about this last year. You can read that here.
And just in time! The weather should be cool, breezy and very, very autumn-like.
You can read more about Bob McClendon here or check out the farm blog here.
I also blogged about this last year. You can read that here.
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Guess What I Did Last Night?
You won't believe what I did all night last night--I cooked breakfast. While I slept.
Yep. And it was fabulous to wake up to breakfast already ready (ready even for Rory's early morning departure).
Oatmeal in the crockpot, my friends. Yes, the crockpot. Oatmeal. Came out creamy, rich, almost buttery. Very affordable (organic steel cut oats from Trader Joe's, water and salt--though I added cinnamon and vanilla).
Perfect for the cool weather....I know it will come to Arizona one day!
Check it out: http://mothering.com/recipes/slow-cooker-oatmeal
Yep. And it was fabulous to wake up to breakfast already ready (ready even for Rory's early morning departure).
Oatmeal in the crockpot, my friends. Yes, the crockpot. Oatmeal. Came out creamy, rich, almost buttery. Very affordable (organic steel cut oats from Trader Joe's, water and salt--though I added cinnamon and vanilla).
Perfect for the cool weather....I know it will come to Arizona one day!
Check it out: http://mothering.com/recipes/slow-cooker-oatmeal
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Fakers
Aquarium
Hence our visit to the local aquarium. I laugh every time I say the words "local" and "aquarium" in the same sentence. We live in Arizona! No local fish culture to speak of, right? Well, turns out the Salt River and oceans in Mexico do have some pretty fascinating swimmers. We ended up having a lot of fun learning about them (we even got to touch a starfish which Dia was not impressed with one bit) and watching them swim (yes, in tanks and yes, I did voice my concern to Rory and Dia about the injustice of it all). Dia was thrilled with the stingrays and every time she put her hand on the glass, they would all clamor to lay against it (you can kind of see it in the first pic up top). She literally jumped about and banged her hands with excitement!
Some memorable pics:
Accessorizing
When you're one year old and just learning to walk, there is nothing more important than the right accessories....
Here she's "hiding" under the dining table...Not sure if she just wants privacy or thinks she's done something wrong!
So cute!
Today she has been wearing my purse a la a necklace and then carrying it about in her hand as she walks around the house, you know like a proper lady. She absolutely loves holding it!
And I promise I did no encouraging or suggesting! Rory and I turned around and there she was wearing my purse. And then holding it. She is all-girl and wants to be just like...wait for it...ME! AGH! Draw me to You, Lord, so she will see and find Your love in place of my yuckiness. I love you, my girly girl!!!
Today she has been wearing my purse a la a necklace and then carrying it about in her hand as she walks around the house, you know like a proper lady. She absolutely loves holding it!
And I promise I did no encouraging or suggesting! Rory and I turned around and there she was wearing my purse. And then holding it. She is all-girl and wants to be just like...wait for it...ME! AGH! Draw me to You, Lord, so she will see and find Your love in place of my yuckiness. I love you, my girly girl!!!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Insight From the Ordinary
Ok, I have mucho to write about the big 0-1, the first birthday celebration. I am in awe of this girl growing before me and still savoring memories of the baby she was (ok, still is somewhat...I look hard, but she's there), but am loving my days spent with this learning, growing, helping, recognizing, talking, walking child. I find I enjoy her more and more every day--I am constantly amazed at how love really does grow and your heart really does make more and more room for love, joy and affection.
But today I came across two great spiritual-esque lessons I would be sad to leave undocumented.
We recently put in new floors. Our 7-year-old home had been pleading with me to get rid of the original carpet so we (Rory) put in wood laminate style flooring. We love it! But I have to tell you, it feels dirtier. I actually second-guess my house-cleaning skills much more often with the sleek, no-where-for-the-dirt-to-hide-flooring. I will clean it, sweep and mop and pick up after us and then in no time, there the dirt (or dog hair in our case) will be! This is somewhat maddening. But I realized today what this floor is--it's my life. The carpet worked fine, really it did. Sure it was fairly old, but it still had shape and color and a good shampoo kept it looking pretty good. It also did something else--it hid. Everything. Dog hair, dirt, even small bugs could get lost in the fibers. Not so with the laminate. Here, my friend, we lay it all out--the yuck, the stunk, the messy collective shaggy and staticy dog hairs. And this is my life--I could "keep the carpet" and never truly know how messy I am. Or I could rip that sucker out and let everything get full exposure. I'll admit it's more work. But I am also confident that it's a lot more clean. And this is my (and our family's) life modus operati to lay it out, and ideally let the Good Cleaner go in with the swiffer and make us shine!
This other analogy actually brought tears to my eyes. While I was cleaning said flooring this morning, I started out just using a washcloth from the sink to scrub some particularly yucky spots on our kitchen tile. And like a mouse with a cookie, I ended up scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. Suffice to say, the formerly white washcloth was now several shades of dirty. I left it in a corner while I swept and swiffered other areas of the house, telling myself to just put it in the dirty clothes straightaway so that Dia wouldn't get to it. Which, of course, I didn't do. After some cleaning and straightening around the house I came back to the kitchen where Dia was rubbing that washcloth on her legs and holding tight to her chest and then head as if she were a queen with a crown. And for a split-second the Lord held off my inner germaphobe and said, "See that! Your child loves you so much she will hold and cradle even your dirty rags. She has no fear of your yuckiness but only wants to be so close to anything and everything you touch--so much so, that your filthy washcloth is like a fancy crown." And then He said, "Can you do that with My dirty rags? Can you hold even the filthy cloth as if it were a jewel simply because I touched it?" And I seemed to understand that He meant I should not be afraid of His dirty work. I should instead run to even the dirtiest of rags simply because He touched them! So that anything He touches becomes instantly dear to me--even a dirty old washcloth. Do I sit at his feet and even glow with pride to touch His dirty old rags as Dia did with mine? God uses this beautiful lovebug to teach me a lot.
I also killed two scorpions and made a funky soup. So you know, just another day in the Starks' household!
But today I came across two great spiritual-esque lessons I would be sad to leave undocumented.
We recently put in new floors. Our 7-year-old home had been pleading with me to get rid of the original carpet so we (Rory) put in wood laminate style flooring. We love it! But I have to tell you, it feels dirtier. I actually second-guess my house-cleaning skills much more often with the sleek, no-where-for-the-dirt-to-hide-flooring. I will clean it, sweep and mop and pick up after us and then in no time, there the dirt (or dog hair in our case) will be! This is somewhat maddening. But I realized today what this floor is--it's my life. The carpet worked fine, really it did. Sure it was fairly old, but it still had shape and color and a good shampoo kept it looking pretty good. It also did something else--it hid. Everything. Dog hair, dirt, even small bugs could get lost in the fibers. Not so with the laminate. Here, my friend, we lay it all out--the yuck, the stunk, the messy collective shaggy and staticy dog hairs. And this is my life--I could "keep the carpet" and never truly know how messy I am. Or I could rip that sucker out and let everything get full exposure. I'll admit it's more work. But I am also confident that it's a lot more clean. And this is my (and our family's) life modus operati to lay it out, and ideally let the Good Cleaner go in with the swiffer and make us shine!
This other analogy actually brought tears to my eyes. While I was cleaning said flooring this morning, I started out just using a washcloth from the sink to scrub some particularly yucky spots on our kitchen tile. And like a mouse with a cookie, I ended up scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. Suffice to say, the formerly white washcloth was now several shades of dirty. I left it in a corner while I swept and swiffered other areas of the house, telling myself to just put it in the dirty clothes straightaway so that Dia wouldn't get to it. Which, of course, I didn't do. After some cleaning and straightening around the house I came back to the kitchen where Dia was rubbing that washcloth on her legs and holding tight to her chest and then head as if she were a queen with a crown. And for a split-second the Lord held off my inner germaphobe and said, "See that! Your child loves you so much she will hold and cradle even your dirty rags. She has no fear of your yuckiness but only wants to be so close to anything and everything you touch--so much so, that your filthy washcloth is like a fancy crown." And then He said, "Can you do that with My dirty rags? Can you hold even the filthy cloth as if it were a jewel simply because I touched it?" And I seemed to understand that He meant I should not be afraid of His dirty work. I should instead run to even the dirtiest of rags simply because He touched them! So that anything He touches becomes instantly dear to me--even a dirty old washcloth. Do I sit at his feet and even glow with pride to touch His dirty old rags as Dia did with mine? God uses this beautiful lovebug to teach me a lot.
I also killed two scorpions and made a funky soup. So you know, just another day in the Starks' household!
Friday, September 17, 2010
'Twas the Night Before A First Birthday
One year ago tonight, the contractions had started. All the hope and and anticipation and a fair share of fear and trepidation one can experience, showered over me as my body began making way for my girl. We ate Pick Up Stix in the kitchen and waited and counted. Eventually we walked back and forth in front of the house, more counting, more contracting, increasing pain and excitement.
If it were a year ago, the doctor would be almost on her way. Her assistant, even closer. If it were a year ago, I would only sleep in five minute increments throughout the night, listening to the snores and sleep sounds of my husband and birth team as they sacrificed a night of comfort for my girl. If it were a year ago, I would only know partial joy. I would only be partially alive. Partially here. Partially me.
If it were a year ago, I wouldn't know how to diaper using cloth (Rory read up on it, not me). I wouldn't know how to wiggle snot out of a pipe-cleaner size nostril using a large blue bulb while wrestling a toddler-size fish using only my knee and elbow. If it were a year ago, I would have absolutely no clue how much I ADORE peek-a-boo, high-fives, listening to the sweet high-pitched sounds of the backseat, singing "All Around the Mullberry Tree," and putting on mommy's necklaces. If it were only a year ago, I would not have known sore breasts, flab just about everywhere and countless fears I never before existed.
A year ago I had no idea what to expect. I imagined the life within, the gift to come, the reality of a person on the brink of this side of oxygen-filled breath. And the minute I saw her, I knew her. "Oh! You. Yes, of course. It was always you." And the last 365 days or so she has shown herself to me. Wow. What a fun-loving, giggling, smiling and waving, friend-making, room/floor/wall and everything exploring, learning soaking absorbing, silly-making tall blonde sunflower of a girl.
Tonight we had Pick Up Stix in memoriam. But this time, oh, let me tell you the joy of this time this year! We left before they could kick us out (someone tends to shake her food all over the table til it hits the floor, ahem, I mean, covers the floor) and made our way to the grass out front. Where we proceeded to wave to every arriving and departing car and its various passengers, spilling even more food on the grass which made us giggle and giggle. We forcefully made our case for being able to walk into the street by ourselves, though to no avail. We walked and walked and walked insisting mommy hold both hands (mommy cannot express the awe of being needed and wanted in such an innocent way by her love girl) up and down the sidewalk, shreiking with glee when we saw the older girl walking with her parents. We drank juice and water and spilled a lot of both on our dress that was covered in dust, dirt and food from our fun night of memory-making and remembering. And we had absolutely compeletely no idea how much Mom was filled with joy, to overflowing.
A year! Her first. My first. Our first. Happy birthday, India June! I am so glad you are here.
Tomorrow...we party!
If it were a year ago, the doctor would be almost on her way. Her assistant, even closer. If it were a year ago, I would only sleep in five minute increments throughout the night, listening to the snores and sleep sounds of my husband and birth team as they sacrificed a night of comfort for my girl. If it were a year ago, I would only know partial joy. I would only be partially alive. Partially here. Partially me.
If it were a year ago, I wouldn't know how to diaper using cloth (Rory read up on it, not me). I wouldn't know how to wiggle snot out of a pipe-cleaner size nostril using a large blue bulb while wrestling a toddler-size fish using only my knee and elbow. If it were a year ago, I would have absolutely no clue how much I ADORE peek-a-boo, high-fives, listening to the sweet high-pitched sounds of the backseat, singing "All Around the Mullberry Tree," and putting on mommy's necklaces. If it were only a year ago, I would not have known sore breasts, flab just about everywhere and countless fears I never before existed.
A year ago I had no idea what to expect. I imagined the life within, the gift to come, the reality of a person on the brink of this side of oxygen-filled breath. And the minute I saw her, I knew her. "Oh! You. Yes, of course. It was always you." And the last 365 days or so she has shown herself to me. Wow. What a fun-loving, giggling, smiling and waving, friend-making, room/floor/wall and everything exploring, learning soaking absorbing, silly-making tall blonde sunflower of a girl.
Tonight we had Pick Up Stix in memoriam. But this time, oh, let me tell you the joy of this time this year! We left before they could kick us out (someone tends to shake her food all over the table til it hits the floor, ahem, I mean, covers the floor) and made our way to the grass out front. Where we proceeded to wave to every arriving and departing car and its various passengers, spilling even more food on the grass which made us giggle and giggle. We forcefully made our case for being able to walk into the street by ourselves, though to no avail. We walked and walked and walked insisting mommy hold both hands (mommy cannot express the awe of being needed and wanted in such an innocent way by her love girl) up and down the sidewalk, shreiking with glee when we saw the older girl walking with her parents. We drank juice and water and spilled a lot of both on our dress that was covered in dust, dirt and food from our fun night of memory-making and remembering. And we had absolutely compeletely no idea how much Mom was filled with joy, to overflowing.
A year! Her first. My first. Our first. Happy birthday, India June! I am so glad you are here.
Tomorrow...we party!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Does It Feel Like Autumn?
This lovely recipe sure can make it taste like it! (Sub agave or honey for the sugar though)
http://www.mothering.com/recipes/pan-apple-pancakes
http://www.mothering.com/recipes/pan-apple-pancakes
It Has Begun
I want to post a bit someday about the huge waves of triumph and travail my husband and I experienced this year. (Didn't think we were gonna make it there a few times...) I want to post also someday (soon) to ask if anyone knows who I am anymore. Not sure I do! I have a lot of stream-of-consciousness posting going on in my head, but I am still in it. And write (and think) better in retrospect. So, I guess those are hints at coming attractions.
But yes, this week is a milestone. I feel exhilarated and frozen all in one! And often times, feel ridiculous for making so much of a first birthday. But when it came up with some moms at the library last week, they both got teary-eyed--one remembering her daughter's, the other anticipating. And that would be my best advice from this first year--find yourself some moms. Moms like you and moms not like you (cause it's more interesting conversation that way and, just maybe, you will learn something). But moms. Moms. Moms. Moms. I have cried leaving playdates before, just because it felt SO GOOD to talk with other moms. I have my mom. And love talking with her. I even have my mom-in-law. But moms raising their babies in the here and now "get" me in a way few others can. And how great it is to be "gotten!"
So thank you moms. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For just being you! For raising your kids, for loving them so much, for listening to me rant, for loving my daughter. And really, in so many ways, for loving me. I literally could not have done it without you.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Got Belly?
While I keep waiting for the last twenty or so pounds to just fall off....waiting....waiting...., I do still enjoy my body. It's not perfect, anywhere near model or photographic quality, but it is still a temple. A temple and a testament. And my daughter's first housing. And as Dia demonstrates, loving your body is an attitude, best done when looking intently at what fascinates you and you alone and not worrying one bit about your audience or the other baby down the street. :)
Plus, bellies are just fun!



Plus, bellies are just fun!
After The Ocean, A Pool
*Dia, if you're reading this someday, I apologize for my weird beliefs and the non-traditional literature I keep coming across that kept you from the fun pool for nearly a year! However, I am your mom. And I love you. And would cut off my own hair (limbs, skin, etc.) if I thought it would help you in any way. So, hopefully, you're all grown-up now and can just laugh and say, "Oh, Mom." Which I will know in all my wisdom really means, "Thanks, I love you, too."
Two-Word Sentences!
She's growing and developing so fast--she understands to wave hello or goodbye on command, blows kisses (with her own version of the "muah" sound), gives "lippers" (kisses--Rory trained her!) where she actually puckers and leans in, gives high five, calls all food "apple" (this is great fun and we have her perform this "trick" constantly because it is just so cute--she emphasizes the "app" and then trails off with a drawn out "lllll") and now has put two words together.
Gotta tell you, as emotional as I still am about her first birthday, watching her grow is a highlight of my life. So in the words of Dia, "Hi pool."
Thursday, September 02, 2010
A Super Big Very Important So Exciting First
You'll notice we did our best to keep her sun-protected--doesn't she look cute?! Let me tell you, kids don't like to wear hats! But even with taking it off and putting it back on and more taking it off, I definitely think it helped more than it hindered. Plus these great swim clothes they make these days, did wonders. As did California Baby sunblock--non-toxic (well, as non-toxic as chemical creams can be) and nice and thick it did a great job. In fact, Dia doesn't have as much as a tan line after ten days outside in the Cali sun.
Sonny's is one of the best Italian restaurants and Dia fit right in--about as well as that rigatoni fit on her finger! :)

We found a fun little fountain and Dia tossed a penny in--lots of fun and special little firsts.
Dia and I got to spend time with my Grandmother, her Great-Grandma (who doesn't look a day past fabulous), at her California house.
Piggy What?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Expanding Her View
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