For Love, Not Money

There's a large difference, I have very recently discovered, between babysitting for a few hours and actually taking care of a child.

I also, for the space of four days, filled a hole in my life that I hadn't yet realized the extent of until it was emptied again. I know it must still be so much different to be a parent, with a child or more in your care one way or another for the rest of your life, but having had even the tiniest miniscule little glimpse of what it might possibly be like, I can't imagine anyone willingly giving it up.

For a weekend I got to pretend. In one day I prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner; I got two loads of laundry washed and three folded; two loads of dishes done; a shopping trip including four stops at various stores; kitchen wiped down and swept, as well as bathroom counters; I entertained three extra kids, for a total of five, up to and including putting away all toys at the end of the day, brushing teeth, reading a bedtime story with all but the baby clustered as close to me as they could get, a litany of children's voices reciting familiar and beautiful prayers, and finally, sleep. I still had time to do some of my own work, things I needed for school. I still had time to read a bit, to check email, to play a couple computer games, though I would willingly give up that extra time.

And at the end of the day, I knew it was growning on me - I knew it when I walked through the house one final time to make sure all lights were off and the door was locked, all toys and messes had been cleaned, all was safe and quiet. I knew it when I walked into the bathroom and noticed the floor needed to be swept, and had to talk myself out of going downstairs to get the broom. I knew it as I peeked in quietly at the five children asleep in their bedroom, and felt both peace at the closure of the day and fear at the enormity of the job I had been given where, for just one single night, five precious children were dependant on me and my ability to care for them.

(All five were up and had baths by 8:30am the next morning, too - an accomplishment I am most proud of. This random fact didn't fit in either of the previous paragraphs.)

I can't imagine what it must be like to be a parent, to live this every day, to a much greater extent than I can ever reach just by watching a handful of kids for a weekend. But I've had the barest glimpse of what a gift it must be, and am left amazed and awed by even that one glimpse.

Behind and Ahead

The year 2007 marked many firsts for me, and many defining events. I've finally reached an age - not an old age, just old enough - where I can look back at the past year and realize what steps have been made, or look back farther than the past year and truly marvel at the passing of time. Is it really 2008? Was I really only 16 when I reset my dad's computer so it wouldn't be affected by Y2K? Has it really been 7 years since we had our first Christmas in my mom's new house? I can only wonder how it must feel for people older than I to look back and wonder... because already the years seem to have passed so terribly fast. None of which says anything about the past year. I attempted a job that I disliked so much I made myself sick, and found the best job I ever imagined being able to have and most likely my life's profession. I overcame more fears than I'm willing to name, encountered so many ups and downs, spent more time with good friends than even I can remember, even successfully cooked a few things. I found I could not successfully curl or even put barrettes into my hair - but then, I've never claimed to be a wiz at this "being female" business. Perhaps it will come with time.

As part of my endeavor to grow up, I weighed my options and ended up spending Christmas day in TX instead of back with my real family in MI, the one holiday I always thought I would have a hard time dealing with being away for. Despite such worries, I had a fabulous Christmas, and I've rarely felt quite so much like I belong anywhere in this world as I belonged right where I was and with who I was with on Christmas day. I did eventually make it back to my parents' and I am back in MI now, enjoying time with my family, and with a funny thing called snow.

I need to talk about the snow for a moment. There are many things on this Earth, many natural things, that I experience no end of enjoyment whenever I have the opportunity to partake of their sights, sounds, or smells. But with everything else out there, I have always found snow to be the most calming, peaceful, and beautiful. At a time when the world seems to be in its darkest depths, filled with death in the failing plants, the already fallen leaves, the brown grass, lacking light in the short days, cold with the most chill winds, secluded and lonely as people remain hidden in their heated houses, as hopeless and despairing as the world can ever become.... Then, the snow starts to drift down from the sky, pure and white and beautiful, covering up the flaws in the world with its forgiving blanket, giving grace to the wind as the flakes dance in the air, adding light as every beam shines brightly off the unscathed surface covering the ground, bringing company as people emerge from their houses to enjoy all the delights that snow can bring from simple looking to snow angels, snowmen, and sledding. And with the snow, the world is no longer hopeless, despairing, and lonely. It's a place filled with love, with grace, with forgiveness. I never could have explained this before I became Catholic, but I've felt it all my life, and still feel it now. I've always viewed the snow as something not only beautiful but hopeful, and, when needed, forgiving. Now I simply know how to say it; I know what it means to have grace that falls down and covers my flaws, my sins, erases them to offer a new start every time.

I think what I miss most about MI is just this: the snow. It started snowing as I boarded the second leg of my journey in Chicago, and it is snowing now, promising a good and deep covering when I wake tomorrow, and I could not be more excited. I am disappointed in only being able to see a week of it; I'm homesick mainly because this has been missing from my life this past couple years, never the grace itself, but this particular representation of it which has always been so potent and so easily understood to me. When I adopt my kids* I will make a trip north every winter to ensure that, whether or not they get this same understanding of the snow that I have, they will at least grow up with the opportunity to enjoy the games snow always suggests to the young (and the young at heart). It need not be a long nor far trip, but, always, if I have any possible way of doing so, at least far enough north to see snow and have that chance to admire it and play in it.

Getting off the topic of snow, and on to the part where the new year known as 2008 is beginning, it's time to look ahead to what this new year might bring. I don't put much weight behind traditional resolutions, but I've learned the value of measurable and accomplish-able goals, and also of mentioning those goals to others beside oneself, and rather than give a list of resolutions such as far too many others might (or, for all I know, might not) do - I wouldn't dare be normal - I'm going to publicize here a list of my calculable goals. This has the added benefit of allowing others to laugh at me, egg me on, offer assistance, or assure me of just how insane I am, according to your liking.

1. Sew a skirt for myself. (This requires learning some basics about how to sew.)
2. Finish writing my 2007 NaNoWriMo novel - or reach 300,000 words, whichever comes first. (Easily doable as long as I keep setting aside time to write.)
3. Save another $500 to put toward travel in Europe. (I have a separate bank account specifically for this purpose; I just need the money put into it.)
4. Bake a pie. (Easily done, but previously attempted only once, with two pie crusts that both failed for extremely silly reasons.)
5. Learn to sight read notes on the bass clef when playing piano. (As in, not having to figure them out one by one before playing anything.)
6. Win NaNoWriMo 2008. (More than anything else, this one requires organization.)
7. Take at least one class - either teaching certification, or something related, or something fun. (I'm hoping to begin certification classes; but failing that, I will get myself into something else useful or enjoyable.)
8. Gain the needed confidence to carry a melody by myself, without an instrument or another person doing the melody, while singing with a group. (I thought this would be the hardest by far; then I went to choir yesterday, and found myself attempting to sight read the alto harmony for almost every song. More unusual, I found myself attempting to do this without anyone to listen to, except when I asked to hear the piano after sightreading certain pieces to pick up the bits I missed. And.. 'lo and behold.. I actually got a lot of it. And let people hear me singing it. I now have confidence in my ability to complete this by far simpler goal.)
9. List 200 books for sale. (A matter of making the time. I've got maybe 20 so far, that I found time to price and list before Christmas.)
10. Learn to play one song on guitar. (I've had my guitar for a couple years now. I had one person attempt to teach me to play. This attempt failed due to my inability to comprehend half of what he was talking about, and my further inability to recognize a song when playing anything but the melody. Due to my growing range of musical experience, and my continued desire to be capable of playing, I think it's time to try again. A year should be sufficient to learn one song, right?)

And this concludes my post this evening; it's long past my bedtime, even for this particular night, for here in MI the party ended hours ago. Goodnight my friends; and happy new year!

* This does not suggest any immediate plans on my part, only a future hope that when I am sufficiently settled I will be able to provide a home for a family of children, or whatever home can be offered by a single mother to a group of hard to place children. I will not, for example, have any need to begin this tradition next winter.