there's no business like show business

I am still trying to get used to the fact that I, a woman who puts forth great effort to "blend in" in social situations, have children who naturally stand out - loudly, boldy, unselfconsciously. Last night, I dropped off an under the weather Mary at my brother's house, picked up my niece, Isabelle, who joined Benjamin, Priscilla and me on an outing to Valparaiso to see Elijah perform in a play put on by the kids in the drama workshop he's been attending these last five weeks (Thanks again, Papa and Nana! The acting lessons have been a perfect fit for him). Elijah played the prince in a skewed and comedic version of Cinderella. It was cute - a little hard to hear as many of the actors spoke softly, but still delightful.


I truly believe, however, that no one in that theatre enjoyed it more than Benjamin who more than once laughed hard enough to nearly pause the entire performance as the audience and cast members alike turned to gape at us. With Isabelle on my lap and a camera in my hand, I wasn't swift or agile enough to grab Ben's shoulder and flash him my "tone it down" face, which I pull out in these kinds of situations where he is swept up in the moment, reacting twelve times more exuberant, more over the top, than appropriate. He was fiercely proud of his brother, as is obvious by the last several seconds in the above video, and cannot wait for his own chance to get up on a stage and perform. Oh good gracious.

what goes around comes around

So if you wanted to see a bunch of Sabourin kids wail in anguish and beat at their breasts over the cruelness of a mother who would dare to compile such a vile combination of vegetables and curry sauce and then deem it edible for the whole family, you should have stopped by our house last night around 5:47 pm - at the exact time I was declaring the requirement of taking at least two "polite bites" non-negotiable. Priscilla rallied and then gloated over her talent at being able to down the whole bowl without vomiting. Benjamin wept silently while Elijah tried relentlessly to negotiate (What if I took out just the peas and potatoes and ate the rest?). Mary held the same spoonful in her cheeks for over twenty-five minutes before finally surrendering and swallowing whatever hadn't been drooled out the side of her tiny lips. Troy and I went on dining and conversing like all of this Oscar worthy drama was just par for the course, because...well, it is.

As our parents would gladly (even gleefully) tell you, this is payback time for my husband's and my picky eating tendencies as children. Twenty-five years ago, while my mom was shaking her head at the hissy fit I was throwing over her stuffed green peppers and spaghetti squash and while my future in-laws were pulling over again to the side of a McDonalds parking lot to wait for their son's special order of a plain something or other, I have a hunch they were dreaming of the moment when we would look on dumbfounded at our own teary sons and daughters staring wide-eyed at their dinner, covering their mouths with their hands in horror, and understand fully, apologetically, how trying it can be to come up with meals (besides pizza, of course) that please everyone.

That day, those days, have officially arrived and now here is your prize, Papa and Nana, Grammy and Grampy, for enduring so patiently our maniacal fear of things that were green, things that crunched, things that were mixed together:

From the bottom of our hearts,

WE ARE SORRY.

etc.

I am wiped. It's been an intensive week. The good news is that I am slowly overcoming my "joining things'" phobia. You are now reading the ponderings of a book club, church outreach committee, and homeschool co-op member, the co-manager of coffee hour, a coach's wife, etc., etc. This is great for me, personally - becoming a more integral member of our community and parish, but it makes for a longer lag time between snapshot of the day posts and for some random, rambling, hardly cohesive reflections - like this one.

The pictures are from a homeschool lesson I did with the kids on North American Saints (yes, Ben does wear that bowling league looking flame shirt fairly often). I have been really trying to include them in our Lenten experience. They are old enough now to participate in our Lenten readings, prayers and Church Services. Homeschooling has given me an opportunity to discuss at length, with the older three in particular, why we fast - why we prepare so intensely for Christ's Resurrection! Talk, talk, talk - I just keep trying talk about it conversationally and to answer honestly all of their (many) questions. It's an exciting time and a crucial time, I believe, for seeking constantly God's wisdom and patience!

Today we made birdfeeders out of peanut butter, bird seed and pine cones. We hung like a dozen of them up in the two trees on our front lawn and then we waited for the red birds, blue birds, finches, sparrows to fly back to Indiana en masse in order to feast on our irresistible "all you can peck" buffet but not one single bird showed up. We tried not to take it personally. Maybe tomorrow...

The sun has been out - hurray, hurray! It's lighter longer. I've been sleeping well. I've been enjoying immensely listening to all of the Ancient Faith Radio podcasts I've been wanting for months to catch up on. I found out that when people call you on your cell phone, you still get charged. ouch. I am 3/4 of the way through the three mountains of laundry that have been sitting in my living room since Saturday. I apologize in advance for any misspelled words as I am too tired to put this through spell check. It is thirty-three minutes exactly past my bedtime.

I owe many of you a phone call (outside of peak hours of course) , a letter, an e-mail, a telegram. It weighs on me, to think that my warm and loving and appreciative thoughts can't always find enough minutes in the day to express themselves by way of consistent correspondence. Please know (I hope you know who you are by now) that you are certainly on my mind and in my heart. I pray for you by name while vacuuming and while lying with Mary until she finally stops squirming and whispering, falls asleep for her afternoon nap. I pray for your health and that a peace which transcends all understanding will overwhelm you, will strengthen your faith and bring your courage.

Tuesday, with its ballet class, library run and eye appointments, is awaiting. Good night, my friends. Sweet dreams.

a little sunshine

Yesterday, we received a package - not just any old package, mind you, but like the coolest package ever. Is there anything for us? The kids asked me, like they usually do whenever the mailman stops by, and usually I say, No, not this time. But yesterday, on that special day, instead of answering in the negative, I said, Why, yes, there sure is! Look at this! Together we oohed and awed at the Australian return address.

Over the past year I've had the privilege of becoming acquainted, through Ancient Faith Radio and blogging, with a lovely woman - a fellow mother, a fellow writer, a kindred spirit half-way around the globe. We've exchanged e-mails, narrowed the gap as much as possible between her world and mine but never did she and her family seem closer to us than when we opened that lovingly packed "nappy" box filled with all kinds of treats from her native Australia. There were snacks and sticker books, art prints and little toy animals. Benjamin claimed the boomerang and has yet to put it down since. Elijah now knows an impressive amount of facts about Australia's dangerous wildlife. Priscilla has already starting gathering the items she wants to include in our "America" parcel (she likes that word, she's decided). Are there candy bars in Australia? What about music boxes? Mom, I want to give them something that they can't buy or find in their country!

What I really loved was the lengthy letter, all handwritten and full of tidbits about my friend's day-to-day life. I read it slowly, over coffee, imagining someone just like me with the same fears and longings working out her salvation so very far away, and yet those miles are being erased by a shared goal, a shared conviction, an intertwining of our lives through technology and now these tangible, edible, graspable offerings so generously and thoughtfully bestowed upon us. I was also moved by the photo - such a sweet looking family. I have placed it upon our prayer shelf, among the icons and candles, surrounded by saints, by Christ and the Theotokos. Every morning and every evening I will include them in my intercessions for patience, for peace, for perseverance. I will look at her and remember, when I feel isolated, discouraged, weary from pursuing the Truth, that we are saved as a community, that Christ is fully present in our relationships. Pleasing ourselves, obsessing over our own productivity and comfort, will never ever be as satisfying as sacrificing our time and resources for one another.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Selena, for sending a little hope, a little wonder, a little sunshine over my way.

It's your turn to empty the chamber pot!

Winter is fighting with spring, announced the Park Ranger at the Maple Festival we attended yesterday as a homeschool group. Who do you think is winning?

U-m-m, what did you say? We can't hear you because there are icicles growing out of our ears.

Yes, it was a beautiful morning - bright, clear, crisp. The information regarding how syrup is made (Did you know it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of Maple Syrup?) was indeed fascinating. The tour of the Bailley family home, believed to be the first non-native Northwest Indiana residents, lead by silver-haired guides in Little House on the Prairie dresses, was equally awe inspiring (and I only felt a tad bit sheepish about my inability to stay on top of my own homemaking duties despite having access to electricity and running water). It's just that it was so darn COLD. We pretended to be trees shaking our arm branches in order to get our sap... I mean, our blood flowing and everything, but our teeth went right on chattering and the complaints about numbing appendages grew louder and more desperate until finally the field trip was over and we ran to back to our mini-vans for refuge from the bitterness of a battle for warmth and an end to those exhausting mitten hunts (Did you leave them in the car? In your coat sleeve?), we're clearly losing - by a landslide.

Are you ready for some soccer?

Benji on the move!

Ready for action.


The Team


The Coach (and his biggest fan)

Ben and Elia

Coming home.

Elijah's been in drama since early February, Priscilla in ballet, Mary in gymnastics - Ben's been waiting forever for his special activity to begin. This past Saturday, finally, was his very first soccer game. Apparently, there were more players than anticipated because last week we got a phone call from our YMCA begging for help. Was there any possible way that my husband could volunteer as a coach? There was. He did. I had a wonderful time watching the two of them from the folding chairs on the sidelines. Benji, the only boy on his team, had a hard time at first not grabbing the jerseys of the kids running beside him, but by the end of the game was using primarily just his feet to maneuver the ball, had soaked his hair in water to look a little more sporty, and had taken to lying down flat on his back in disbelief whenever his opponents scored a goal.

Troy, very gently, suggested the ball be passed in an orderly fashion instead of impulsively kicked in any old direction. He planned a defense where, instead of the entire team crowding together around the action, two of the players stay planted in front of the goal. But alas, twenty minute old habits die hard and these first timers held fast to their original notion that it is every man for himself out there. The important thing is that Ben had a great time - and that, no matter what the outcome, there are always treats at the end. I was proud of him for staying focused and proud of Troy for being so sweet and so involved in our community and in the life of his son. I believe this will be a positive experience for both of them.

quiet now, quiet

Thy grace hath risen, O Lord, the illumination of our souls hath shone forth. Lo, now is the acceptable time; the season of repentance hath come. Let us cast down the works of darkness, and put on the works of light, that we may pass the great tempest of fasting and reach the summit of the third-day Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the Savior of our souls. - The Aposticha for Forgiveness Vespers

Imagine, I told Elijah, if I never stopped Mary from gorging on sweets - if, when every time I caught her with her hands in the brown sugar bag, with mouthfuls of sugar dissolving on her tongue and dripping from her lips like syrup, I did nothing but stand by and watch her attempt to feed an insatiable desire for that which, in the long run, will make her sick. Part of loving her is enduring her protests, her disappointment at being separated from passions empty and addictive. I know that it is very difficult to understand, at your age, how a parent saying 'no' and 'not now' is, believe it or not, an act of mercy.

This afternoon, after Liturgy, we gathered again as a congregation to bow before one another, to ask forgiveness of one another, to begin, as a community, to take part in Great Lent. We will fast from meat and dairy, we will remove from our daily routines distractions loud and numbing, we will attend services breath-takingly, hauntingly, beautiful in preparation for the Feast of Feasts, for the Resurrection of our Lord and God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

If you knew me, how impulsive I am, you'd understand how very trying, how very necessary is this period, this gift from God, this deliberate separation from my greedy, forgetful, self-centered spirit passions empty and addictive. You'd know why pausing, why emptying my mind of frivolous stimuli, my stomach of foods heavy and rich, will inevitably bring me to my knees in frustration in despair over my own lack of discipline. I will be forced to come to terms with my dependence on Christ's compassion, to face head on truths I usually push away: my lust for earthly treasures, my obsession with comfort, my mortality.

Yet even in the midst of intensive repentance, we, the Church, anticipate with renewed zeal, the moment when Life will conquer sin and hell - our victory over death through the sacrificial love of the Holy Trinity. We wait and watch for the Bridegroom so as not to be off flitting and fretting about when at last He arrives in all His splendor and glory. By stretching ourselves spiritually, emotionally, physically, we'll find the joy at having arrived at the empty tomb (finally!) that much more satisfying and triumphant.

Quiet now, quiet. Throughout Lent, I will dispense with the music on this blog. I ask for your prayers and forgiveness. For my haughtiness, my vanity, my apathy, my laziness, I am truly, truly sorry. May God bless you and keep you in His perfect, His redemptive, His incomparable peace.