Fa la la la frump.

I knew this was going to be a difficult Christmas season, and I tried to prepare myself for it mentally. Bryan is working long hours (which means I’m working long hours at home with the kids) and we weren’t planning to get a tree since we’re leaving town half way through the month. It’s hard to get into good cheer when things around me don’t look festive, and we aren’t spending time together shopping or baking or otherwise collaborating on the season. Add to this a few days of puking children and unresolved marital tension, and it just doesn’t seem worth the energy to pull out even some of the boxes of decorations.

It’s been the sort of week where I can’t even go downstairs to switch the laundry over without someone destroying something or starting a fight. I lost a contact lens, and my glasses have an old prescription, which makes everything look blurry. All the squinting makes my neck and shoulders tight. This makes me anxious, because my nightmares always involve me not being able to see – either my hat keeps falling over my eyes, or it’s dark, or it’s blurry. Every day I wear glasses feels a bit like reliving a nightmare.

Because of this, I’ve largely given up on Getting Things Done, and instead have made it three fourths of the way through a novel in less than 12 hours. If I could get away with it, I’d be spending my days in bed, hiding under the covers.

I’m feeling depressed, but not the kind of depressed that medication can make better. Whiskey? Yes. But Zoloft? Not so much. I’d like to think that if my circumstances changed I would be able to get out of this slump. But in reality, I know that blaming shitty circumstances is not always something I can get away with.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:4-7).

In the past this passage has always irritated me – it seemed trite and flippant, as if the author, Paul, has no idea what it’s like to be me. But my pastor made a very compelling argument to the contrary: Paul, the man who was shipwrecked, beaten, and imprisoned, and was actually writing these words from prison, might have some credibility when writing about anxiousness. He was not in a position to be simple nor flippant.

I hate that I can’t shake this sermon from my head. I hate that I can’t ignore this passage of Truth. I hate that I can’t blame someone or something else for the way I’m feeling right now. I’m stuck in this really dark place of being angry about the Way Things Are.

The Lord is near, yet my anger seems to be pushing everyone close to me away. Do not be anxious, yet my irritability is contagious. Present your requests to God, but I fear he will not take care of me.

– – –

And there it is, the sentence that, once typed, unplugs the tub and lets all the water out: I fear he will not take care of me. After writing that, I walked away to cry for a few hours. It feels strangely comforting to admit I don’t trust God, especially given that it doesn’t change my circumstances, and that I’m still feeling kind of angry about everything.

I guess I’m craving some of that peace which transcends all understanding. Which Easy Button do I press to get me some of that?

For your Tuesday morning entertainment

See, what I’m tryin’ to say is, you make things better.

Dear Bryan,

For two weeks now I’ve been planning to write a mushy essay for your birthday about how much I love you, and to post this song as a tribute to us. And then we got into that huge fight on the day the kids started puking, and you were stressed about work, and you’ve been putting in long hours, and I didn’t get any sleep, and even through several conversations I still haven’t felt settled in my heart like we’ve resolved it.

And then I didn’t feel much like writing a mushy essay anymore about how much I love you.

But I know these are the “for better or for worse” times we talked about when getting married, when covenanting with God that we will push through this soupy existence together all the way until death (and killing each other doesn’t count). I know now this is just a blip in a very long life together (God help us), and even though I sometimes feel we are having the same argument over and over again, just over different things, at least we are still having the argument instead of simply passing by one another on our way to and from the bathroom.

You’ve asked me several times this week if I liked you, and I know I said something smart-ass like, “I have to like you, we’re married.” And even though I know it’s not technically true, that I really don’t have to like you just because we’re married, I really do like you. In fact, I like you so much that I’m willing to overlook the fact that you can be an ass sometimes – mostly because I know I can be a real bitch, too. And mostly because I know that as long as we are still alive we will always find ways to hurt each other, and that I’d much rather be pushing through this soupy existence toward reconciliation with you than anyone else in the world.

So when the guy in the song says, “I’ll stand by you, if you stand by me…” I only agree with that to the extent that I’ll stand by you. I don’t think God intended Covenant to be an “if” kind of thing, so my prayer is that you will feel me standing by you even during those “for worse” times when I don’t necessarily feel you standing by me first. This is a stretch, I know. I can picture you pursing your lips as you read this, mentally listing off all the ways I have not stood by you this week. And I get it. I’m not sure I’m there yet, which is why I said it’s my prayer. As in, going forward I hope to respond differently to you when I feel hurt.

And now that I think about it, I’m not sure you really do make things better, as the guy in the song says. I mean, I’m sure I don’t make things better for you, either, but how are we supposed to? That seems like a pretty complicated task, to make things better for someone else. And maybe that’s why I got so mad the other day, because I wanted you to make things better for me, and you were hoping I’d make things better for you, and it was the perfect storm of disappointment that neither one of us could be made to feel better in that moment.

But then again – I mean, even though I’m just now realizing you can’t make me feel better like Jesus can make me feel better – you do make things better in the sense that you are with me. It is not good for man to be alone – that’s what God says, and I think he has a point. I’ve been alone before and I didn’t like it very much. And even though you sometimes make me wish I was alone again, I know that’s just the liquor talking, and when I sober up I’m always glad you’re right there with a strong cup of coffee in hand.

So on today, your 38th birthday, I just want you to know that I love you. I think you need to hear that from me now, because maybe you were wondering if I did, given the week. But I do. I love you. It’s complicated, but I love you. Over and over. And you make things better, because I can’t imagine I would work this hard at anything else if I didn’t think it got better every time we came through a rough spot.

Happy Birthday, Bryan. I love you.

Just what the doctor ordered: food, drink, and sun.

After coffee and breakfast with Dave the house guest, we sent him off to meet his traveling companion filled with all sorts of ideas for how to spend their day. Last night we all had dinner with Heartichoke and husband at The 5 Spot – a great little “spot” on the top of Queen Anne Hill. They rotate their menu periodically, and were currently serving New Orleans cuisine. It’s a little on the pricey side for a weekly date night stop ($15+ a dish), but my Cornbread Andouille Bourre Chicken was to die for (even if I couldn’t pronounce it), as was my Amaretto on the rocks.

Today is a rare warm and sunny day in December, and I couldn’t bear to be inside anymore, so I jacketed the kids and forced them outside with me. Together we started prepping my vegetable garden to be healthier and happier, and more willing to help my tomatoes grow! grow! grow! My friend Jenny (no, not this Jenny, but this one) sent me an article she read on how to make a new garden bed (I don’t have the source, but maybe she’ll add it in the comments?), and the instructions are following.

This was a fun and easy activity to do with the kids without feeling like I needed to be such a control freak. After all, we just shoveled dirt around and raked leaves!

1. Start with a layer of cardboard or black-and-white newspaper. Lay directly on top of grass or weeds and thoroughly wet it. A good thick layer (1- to 15 sheets of newspaper) will smother weeds and sod, and all that decaying green matter will form the foundation of your spring bed.

2. Add a layer a couple of inches deep of moist garden soil to weigh down the paper layer and speed up the decomposition of the sod below.

3. Next, spread any fallen leaves, grass clippings, or well-chopped kitchen waste you have handy onto the bed. Be creative-a local brewery may have spent hops to spare, or a juice shop may have carrot pulp. Many coffee shops will gladly give you all the grounds you could want.

4. Add a thin layer of soil or finished compost-just enough to sow the cover-crop seed into. When I empty flowerpots in the fall, I also add the leftover potting soil.

5. Plant a cold-tolerant cover crop directly on top. In frost-prone areas, plant in late summer or early fall. Some crops can tolerate temperatures well below freezing if you give them 6-8 weeks to become established.

Note: Cover crops offer many benefits. They hold soil in place over winter and prevent erosion. Their roots reach deep to break up compacted soils. Leguminous varieties add nitrogen to the soil as they grow. And when the crop is turned under in the spring (before going to seed), it provides a quick, plentiful dose of organic matter. Let the soil rest 2 weeks before planting.

And that’s all there is to it.

I’m glad I only attempted one section of the garden because the kids were losing interest by the last step, and abandoned me completely at clean-up time. Next week is supposed to be rain free, so I’ll get another chance to finish.

By the way, I created a new strip of garden along the south side of the house using these instructions, and the cover crop is already three inches tall!

Big Day for Rodica

This is Rodica. She’s an eighteen-year-old girl from Moldova (it borders Romania – I had to look it up) that my brother-in-law, Dave, met on one of his many trips to Moldova/Romania. He makes several trips a year there through a missions organization, and often takes groups of kids there from the college he works at as a missions trip for them.

I’m not totally sure of the timing, but within a couple years ago Rodica was electrocuted in an accident. Her right arm was amputated as a result, and the fingers of her left hand are now fused together. She has some movement in her thumb, and can grab things like a fork by pinching her thumb to her hand, but other than that she needs lots of help. Dave was able to raise money for her airfare and secure a medical visa for Rodica to come to the US for a medical consultation and possible surgery to have her fingers separated.

She is staying with Dave and my sister, Jody, in Iowa, but today they are in Cincinnati at the Shriner’s hospital that offered to treat her for free. At today’s consultation the doctors will let Rodica know what her options are, and she will make a decision about what she wants to do. It’s possible that within six months Rodica could have use of her hand again!

When I saw Rodica at my nephew’s wedding in Kansas, I nearly fell off my chair as she greeted me in full English sentences. Only several months before when I met her in June, she knew not a lick of English, and we were all performing charades to communicate. She has been in school this year as a Junior, is running on the cross country team, and I heard Dave tell someone that she made the honor roll.

As I got to know her more that weekend in Kansas, I was getting a kick out of how resourceful and confident she is, knowing exactly what she wants and how to get it. As we attempted to organize our hotel room to make way for a cot, she took charge of the situation and began nudging bags around and telling me where to put things.

From the public computer in the hotel lobby, Rodica pulled up these pictures she had found of her home town of Nisporeni. It is a beautiful countryside, and in many of the pictures she was able to point out a certain grove of trees she’d hiked past or a road she’d walked on.

Please be thinking about and praying for Rodica, so far from home and facing so many serious decisions. If you are interested in donating money or airline mileage awards toward her travel between Iowa and Ohio, and ultimately back to Moldova again, please send me an email (jenzug at gmail dot com), and I will hook you up.

Comin’ from the land down under…

I was hoping to have my house put together more than it is, but when you have a friend visiting you FROM AUSTRALIA you’d best concern yourself with ending Pukefest 2007 first. The important thing is that I vacuumed the layers of cracker crumbs out from the between the couch cushions so I don’t look like a complete moron when we pull the bed out for him. The dining table full of clutter? We can eat out. The couch filled with loads of clean laundry? The area rug is pretty soft for sitting. I think we’ll be fine.

When I was a kid my parents once had friends visit us from Australia – they had met while traveling in Europe (my mom makes conversation with everyone, even Australians in Europe). But me? I met my Australian friend while sitting on my couch. I think he found my blog through this review I wrote for theooze.com, and because he commented a couple times I read his blog and we became commenting friends. And now? We’re stop #2 on his American Extravaganza! (My term, not his.)

Let that be a lesson to all you lurkers out there: YOU TOO could be sleeping on my Ikea pull-out couch if you were to just LEAVE A COMMENT.

It’s not all rainbows and puppies around here…

It’s been a rough week at the Zughaus. The kids were puking, and I wasn’t getting any sleep. I had to make another trip to the ER with Thomas to rehydrate him, almost had to make a second trip, and throughout it all Bryan had to work until nine or ten at night. Under that kind of stress and exhaustion, he and I haven’t been very nice to each other.

I’ve been patient with the kids to a point, but when one is still sick and the other is feeling better enough to antagonize everyone else I start to lose my mind just a little bit. Posting last night’s video is my attempt at capturing a shining moment in a dark week.

But this morning, when I cheerfully announce that it’s time for preschool and we are actually LEAVING THE HOUSE, and a certain child screams at me to go away because she wants to stay in the bath…these are the moments I break down and cry, right there in front of everybody.

When I spend my week snuggling, and comforting, and worrying, covered in puke and washing load after load of puked on sheets and towels – getting screamed at by those same cherubs I cared for just makes me want to go on strike.

In trying to maintain perspective, I think about Jesus – how he was perfect, sinless, and without fault. Yet in his perfection, he took my lying, angry, bitter sin upon himself and died, taking it all to the grave with him. “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). I’ve been thinking about this all morning. I can’t compete with what kind of sacrifice Jesus made for me, but I know he calls me to love others sacrificially.

So this morning I’ve been praying for peace, graciousness, and a heart that desires to serve, even when my service is not always appreciated.

Out of the mouths of babes. Or not.

We were snuggling in a chair after a hard few days and Ruthie gave me a kiss. Then she came at me with her mouth open and said, “Let’s kiss like this, and get married!”

I laughed and said, “Will you show my camera your kisses?”

I expected her to turn away in a huff, because she does. not. perform.

Maybe it’s the strict toast and water diet after a day of puking, but she consented to perform! And what I got for my money was oh so much more.

And by the way? Hilarious about the “sign language.” I have NO IDEA where she got that – this was the first I’ve “heard” about it.

Flames, flood, and signals of the end

When I told my friend about my day she was like, “Geez, it’s like Red Dawn – grab your guns and head for the hills!”

First of all, my power went out quite randomly this morning while I was frying ground beef. I was also doing laundry. I had turned on all the lights and was playing Christmas music to stave off the depressive dreary day. Suddenly, all my productivity halted and we sat in the kind of dark where it’s not really dark but not really light, either – like the bad dreams I always have when I can’t see my enemies clearly.

The creepy thing to me, was that as soon as the power went out I heard multiple sirens from all directions, as if catastrophe and chaos awaited me on all sides.

Eventually the power came back on, I finished my chili and got the laundry done.

Then around 2:00 the power went off again. And I began hearing sirens again. And then I saw a HUGE PLUME OF SMOKE rising above the buildings a few blocks behind my house.

I actually called the police department as was like, I HAVE NO POWER, I HEAR SIRENS, AND I SEE SMOKE… AM I IN DANGER???

Turns out the McDonald’s down the street was on fire, and she had no idea why I had no power. You should click on that link and see the pictures – FLAMES SHOOTING INTO THE AIR. It’s a spectacular sight.

Oh, and did I mention our governor declared a STATE OF EMERGENCY for all the flooding? Yeah, it’s the end of the world. Grab your guns and head for the hills.

Anyway, I just spent two hours without my kids, making lists and checking them twice; making travel plans, returning travel-related emails, scheduling Christmas photos, alerting all of Southern California we will be in town for TWO WEEKS, and so on. And now, I will do some quick Christmas shopping.

Go forth and have a better day than me.

For my blogging friends who also like to read books…

Here’s a fun site called Booking Through Thursday. A question is asked, and you answer it on your website with links all around. I like this idea for those times when I’m feeling blocked and burned out, but I still want to write for the discipline of it.

Thanks to Writing and Living for the link!

Another Great Rack to Check Out

I have amassed quite a t-shirt collection lately. I’d like to call it a hobby, but I dare say it’s becoming an obsession. I’m a junkie with a dealer who occasionally sends me “samples,” but I really just think she’s trying to feed my addiction so I am completely dependent on her.

I will show you some of the latest in my collection soon, but for now, check out these great t-shirts. Wouldn’t you Go Crazy at Home Moms just love to have one of these?

Book Review: This Beautiful Mess

This Beautiful Mess, by Rick McKinley, made me uncomfortable. I feel pretty comfortable in my nice house with my nice husband who has a nice job and provides me with lots of nice things. McKinley’s book challenged me to consider my life’s agenda and priorities. As I read, I wondered if I cling to my stuff too tightly, if I love the underprivileged too little, if I value my health and wealth too much.

“When I became a Christ follower, the sad truth is that I transferred Christ into my kingdom, into the context of my life. My kingdom consisted of my desires and aspirations – the future I hoped for, an agenda that allowed me to reign as I chose….I was simply trying to get God to endorse my agenda.”

In writing this book I don’t think he intended that we should all be flinging our possessions out the window or giving away all our money. That’s not really the point he is trying to make. Yes, he challenges us in the areas of money and time and possessions and other things, but what I took away was mostly a challenge to my heart and motives: do I live as if I experience the kingdom of God now? Or do I live more like a placeholder on Earth, waiting for the next train to heaven?

“I realized that most of Jesus’ followers lived pretty much like everyone else — except we hoped for heaven. The Christian life began to look like one long waiting game of Bible studies and boring parties. If I was lucky, a bus would hit me and I’d go straight to heaven.”

His call in every issue that he addresses is not a call to start a program. He calls us to engage in relationship. He calls us to love. He calls us to empathy. Here are some quotes from the book that struck me in particular:

If you set out right now to tell the story of your encounters with the King of heaven, I wonder what you would say. What foolish tantrums and ugly battles could you describe as you think about how you have tried to get God to serve your kingdom?

…we try so hard to be cool. We say we need to have relevant music, relevant programs, relevant parking….We become relevant when we are committed to being that signpost of heaven in some part of our world. When we study Scripture, we find that relevance happens naturally when we choose to be real people caring for other real people. Even the real people who are not like us. Even the real people who don’t hesitate to hate us. Authentic relationships make us relevant.

No doubt about it, money is a profound dilemma. How do I value money without being owned and corrupted by it? How do I steward everything I have for God while taking responsibility for putting bread on the table and a roof over our heads? When is my giving, no matter how generous, more about me than someone else?

Giving [money] in the context of relationship also steers us toward giving the kind of help the recipient actually needs – not the help we’re guessing they need or that is convenient for us to give.

I notice, though, that my freedoms shape my expectation, and my expectation is simple and powerful: that suffering is to be avoided at all costs.

I definitely recommend this book to read. To be honest, it starts out a little simple. And as someone who has been around the church awhile, I was a little like, duh. But I kept reading, knowing my attitude was likely arrogant. McKinley lays the foundation in the first two sections of the book, but the third section, “Practicing the presence of the kingdom,” is the section that was most convicting to me because he describes real life examples of people he knows – not theories or great ideas.

101 Things Found on my Piano

The Great Purge of 2007 did not stick. Most everything that I decluttered is back to it’s original glory, that is, CLUTTERED. A girlfriend came over for lunch yesterday, and I had to clear a path for her through the living room, then clear off the counter to make lunch, then clear of the dining table so we could eat.

We had a good laugh about it, mostly because in the humor of those moments I just decided to admit to myself that I am a Clutter Bug. I don’t pick up after myself, I don’t finish what I start, and I hate maintaining. This is not to say I’m giving in to myself; I’m just going to look at it from a different perspective.

So after she left I put a movie on for the kids and decluttered my piano, which is a major hot spot of clutter in my house – it being the only surface in the living/dining area that doesn’t need to be eaten from or have a drink set on. It’s a non-functional space, so it’s easy to drop stuff there and get it out of the way.

You are going to die laughing when you read this, but as I began to clear stuff off the piano it was cracking me up how ridiculous I am. JUST THROW IT AWAY, ALREADY!!! I know the list is tedious, but for the sake of humoring me, you should skim it over. Plus, I’ve rewarded you at the end with a picture of what it looks like now.

Here is everything I removed from the piano:

One Costco coupon book, expiration date: October 28, 2007.
One half made crown Ruthie started in Sunday school class.
Two unmailed thank you notes from my birthday in September 2007.
One construction paper turkey headband Ruthie made at preschool.
One glasses case.
One unmailed thank you note from Ruthie’s birthday in March 2007.
One borrowed night gown waiting to return home.
Three drink coasters (the fourth was cut to pieces by our resident slasher)
One blank birthday card waiting for a birthday.
Various thank you notes and birthday cards received that until now I haven’t been able to throw away (buh-bye).
One invitation to a party in April 2007.
Two sets of iPod earbuds.
One small wedding photo album.
One unfinished felt project from a camping trip three years ago.
One deck of playing cards.
One broken, homemade mosaic’d picture frame (buh-bye).
Two framed pictures waiting to be hung.
Four hilarious and off-color Christmas card samples from comfort-guide.com.
One user’s guide for a bluetooth hands free speaker.
One tube of chapstick, cap missing.
One pen cap, red.
One 1/2 T measuring spoon.
One small flashlight.
One box of inhalation medication from November 2007.
One huge box of wipes, owner unknown.
One purse waiting to be returned to a friend.
One bunch of Sedum Autumn Joy flowers I thought would dry well, but really just left a mess of dried flower pieces.
Pictures given to me by a friend… two summers ago.
One wrapper to a spool of yarn I want to track down online.
One “control-a-man” remote I received for my birthday.
A wedding program from October 2007.
One scrap notebook the kids write in.
One book I’m waiting to review on my blog.
One 8.5 x 11 piece of paper with one tiny phone number written on it.
One rag that needs to be put in a box in the basement.
One book that needs to be put away on the basement shelves.
Scholastic book order forms from Ruthie’s preschool.
Class pictures from Ruthie’s preschool.
One pound puppy named Banjo.

Ha! That’s so embarrassing, but there you go. Merry Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, Bryan was able to remove the plate rack from the wall and I hung a Christmas wreath in it’s place. It’s starting to look (and smell) like Christmas in here!

I should also probably mention that I came home from the store today to find the Sufjan Stevens Christmas box set open and disassembled on the top of the piano, as if someone had just played all four CDs and left everything sitting out. So it’s not like I’m the only nut that needs to be cracked around here.

Jim Short on David Letterman

I woke Bryan up with my laughing last night – this guy is funny. My favorite part is when he talks about moving into the white house.

Coding Horror

As it turned out, Bryan had to work the entire weekend I was in Kansas. He took a short break for beer and pizza on Thanksgiving, but otherwise he spent the weekend coding while the kids watched movies. He coded in the living room while the kids took a bath. He coded on the couch while the kids watched movies. He coded in bed while the kids jumped up and down all around him…and watched movies.

As the weekend approached and I realized it would not be filled with fun trips to the dog park or shopping to get mama that really great Christmas present, I tried to find someone to help him with the kids. But in the frantic days before my departure all I could think of were the usual friends and babysitters who watch my kids, and they were all gone for the holiday weekend. After I got home, of course, I remembered all sorts of other people who had offered to watch the kids if we ever needed it.

I checked out six new videos from the library in hopes that fresh entertainment would help keep the kids out of his hair.

The first day I called in I got a report that Ruthie had watched Pocahontas four times in a row. After the second viewing Thomas threw a major fit, so Bryan stuck her in our room while they watched “Buzz Lightyear.” I later learned that Ruthie watched Pocahontas four times every day, which I think breaks the record from my Finding Nemo days.

The second day I called in I learned that Thomas had ripped one of the library’s DVD jackets to pieces (note the bright pink sticker that says, ADULT SUPERVISION RECOMMENDED).

The third day I called in, I learned that Ruthie had drawn on my stainless steal refrigerator with a Sharpie permanent marker. For Sunday I called in reinforcements and had a friend take the kids to church so Bryan could code uninterrupted.

But really, this was like a typical week for me, so I think Bryan was a major stud if that’s all that happened while he was completely preoccupied. When I got home the house was clean, the kitchen was clean, and the kids were alive. That’s all I ask. Truth be told, I felt really bad that he was stressing through a major coding deadline with the kids underfoot while I was making a spectacle of myself over politics in a restaurant.

Yesterday while I was catching up on reading some blogs, I read this HILARIOUS post by Dooce on her new blog design. When she says, “[Jon] has been knee-deep in code for almost two months now…]” I totally related to what that’s like. Yesterday morning Bryan was screaming the F word at his laptop because something wasn’t working in Explorer the way it was working in Firefox, which is similar to the other night when he was screaming the F word at his laptop because something wasn’t working in Firefox the way it was working in Explorer.

When this happens I just pretend I’m not there.

My favorite excerpt from that post is this:

Yesterday as we neared the final stretch I decided to take Leta out to run some errands so Jon could project manage those last few tasks without being distracted by the sound of her body tossing itself on the floor. He briefly got up from this desk to kiss me goodbye when I noticed two giant sweat stains underneath his arms, and I was all, are you running on a treadmill while coding my website? Isn’t that complicated? And he’s all, yes I’m running on a treadmill, WITH MY BRAIN.

So thank you, Bryan, for manning the DVD player while I whooped it up with my family in the midwest.