Cooking with Zoe: Feeding a Crowd

Most of the time, I prefer my social get togethers to be small, intimate affairs where good rich conversation can take place. But some circumstances just call for feeding a big crowd all at once. For me, figuring out how to feed and seat a crowd is super stressful. But perhaps the stress heightens my awareness. I was in the midst of stressing out about feeding a crowd recently when I read the story in John about Jesus feeding the crowd. 


Something I don't remember being taught about this meal, is about when this miraculously satisfying meal took place. Check it out with me, the book of John in the gospels, chapter 6, verses 1-14. Look at verse 4, the festival of Passover was near. The reason there are huge numbers of people around is because they've come to celebrate Passover at the Temple. But instead of going to partake in Passover, (the ceremony that remembered God passing over the Jews who had marked their homes with lambs blood in Egypt, sparing their lives when death passed by) they gather around to be near Jesus. 


The notes in my bible summarize this scene by saying, "Jesus replaces the Passover." Certainly I'd studied before that Christ was the Passover Lamb in His death and resurrection, that ultimately allows God to Pass-Over us, seeing Christ's righteousness instead of our sinfulness. But well before His death, people were turning to Him functionally as the Messiah whether or not they consciously understood Him as the Lamb of God in this sense. 


And more specifically, not only does Jesus substitue the event of Passover, these people came to Jesus instead of coming to the Temple. Check out John 2:19-22. In these verses, Jesus makes a cryptic reference to Himself as the Temple. I love how one scholar I read put it lately, the Temple [and Jesus-as-Temple] was the place where Heaven (God's realm) and Earth (Man's realm) overlapped. In verse 22, it says that only after His resurrection did this click for the disciples, that Jesus was the Temple, the means of access to the presence of God. And yet, this crowd that Jesus feeds, they go to Jesus during the festival that called for them to go to the Temple. And with Jesus, they eat. 


wo. 


Did they get it? Did they get that they WERE going to the Temple when they followed Jesus? Or was God just illustrating something through them without them even knowing what they were doing? Probably the later. Either way, that's pretty cool. 


Ok, now skip ahead to the Last Supper where we are back at the Passover, sharing a meal with Jesus again. Jesus is breaking bread and passing the wine around talking about how His body was going to be broken for them and that they should continue to take this meal and remember Him. 

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, ²⁴ and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” ²⁵ In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” ²⁶ For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

Again, a meal with Jesus at the time of the Passover. Again, like in John 2, Jesus is referencing his to-be-broken body, Jesus as the Temple. And we have this instruction to perpetuate this ceremony in the observance of communion. So how do we put this all together, Jesus-Passover-Temple-Communion? 

For modern day Christians, the Temple equivalent is the church building. And for some long-time christians, or those simply walking in christian culture, the building can start to feel hollow. Maybe this was also true for Jews when Jesus stepped in. They'd been going through a great deal of trouble to construct this temple, and yet something was missing . . .


The five thousand diners probably didn't get it, but in choosing to gather with Jesus, they participated in Jesus becoming the Passover and in Jesus being the Temple. Jesus demonstrates that He is the source of true sustenance (John 6:26 "I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves") at the same time as He is becoming the place of true worship, and true access to God. And when the disciples participated in the Lord's Supper, they too partake in Jesus as Passover and proclaim Jesus as the true Sacrificial Lamb. 

So then when we participate in Communion, what is it we are doing? When we authentically participate in communion, whether or not we recognize the significance, we are a) loving one another, b) loving God, and c) glorifying Christ as the means of our access to God and true love of one another. 


We are joining with the saints before, the five thousand diners, the disciples, and the people in the seats around us on that given Sunday to worship God, to enjoy direct access to God, to accept Jesus as the sacrifice for our sins, and to realize true love. Most truly in Communion we become the Body of Christ, the Church. 

Church is not a temple building, because Jesus is the Temple. Church is not a religious ceremony, because being with Jesus has replaced the Passover. Church is not keeping our gifts to ourselves, because when a little boy shares his food, everyone eats. And when Jesus shares the food that is the sacrifice of His Body, everyone's truest hunger is satisfied. 

Church is not an individualistic spiritual experience*, because Communion, remembering Jesus, is "com" = with, together, "unus" = oneness, union; united together. It is in this togetherness, reconciled with each other that we are able to come together reconciled with God. 

Church is a group eating together. Church is Jesus satisfying the needs of a crowd. Church is where we do communion. 


Church is where we do love.


And when we do love, when we rightly do church, we are loving God, we are bringing Him glory.

Matthew 22:34-40

"Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?" And [Jesus] said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it: 'You shall love you neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets."

Together, remembering Christ; Together, with Christ; 
Together, with all the saints beside and before, we are the Church. 

*a small intimate meal, if you will; though in Christianity we certainly have space for private intimate times with God; that's just not Church

Love is hard.

Have any other parents out there experienced these thoughts racing through your mind, "How did I let this happen?" ["this" being parenthood] I remember a point in my pregnancy when the gravity of the idea of parenting fell down on me like a ton of bricks. I was signed up and committed to this daunting, harrowing, journey. There was no turning back. And that was in the midst of a pregnancy that was 200% planned and intentional. Apparently at least 40% of pregnancies in the U.S. are unintentional. So I'm guessing there is a non-zero amount of parents out there who can identify with me.

It's not the predominant thought in my mind related to my child, but it has come up several times. Parenting is just hard. There is an overwhelming quantity of advice out there about how to get your kid to sleep, how to get them into Harvard, how to prepare the best foods for them. There's also loads of advice about how to help your kids get along well with their siblings, how to handle bullies, how to have good manners and respect their elders, even how to learn to love God. Good relational pursuits. And yeah, we need some of that because we're desperate for help in getting the best life for our kids. But you know what I'm struck by lately? I'm struck by the lack of support in all the dialogue about how to help parents just love their kids.

Maybe it is too scary to admit that loving our kids can be hard. I know it is hard for me to admit this, especially in a public space like this, but it's true. It is hard to admit there has ever been a moment, much less, momentS, where I wasn't totally thrilled at the prospect of being Sofia's mom for life. But it's true. Are we in some sort of parenting cult where we have to make it look like it's the greatest thing ever so all the childless people out there will go out and make more babies? "Misery loves company" or something like that? Am I afraid that if I admit this, that someone will deem me unfit and come to take away my child? That last one is a bit closer to the truth. And even more core to the fear around this admission is the prospect that Sofia would find this out someday and wonder if it means that I do not love her.

But I do.

I do love her. I do love her father. I do love my own parents, my sister, my friends. AND, sometimes, loving any and all of these people can be really, really hard. Sometimes I lose my patience. Sometimes I feel really hurt, physically or emotionally. Sometimes I feel like the way I'm being treated is really unjust. Sometimes I feel like other people don't deserve my love. Sometimes I get very angry.

And it is hard to see past a wall of fire in my eyes to a human being on the other side that I do need to keep on loving. It is hard to push past utter exhaustion to find the energy to attend to another's needs. It is hard to remain tender with a screaming writhing banshie who just won't cooperate. It is hard to stick by the side of a person you care for who seems so committed to their own self-destruction, and a bit of your destruction too, while they're at it. Love is so stinking hard.

So when someone tells me what I'm doing as a mom is "so important," I feel flattered, but honestly, it is just too vague to help me through those hard moments. And when someone tells me that there is purpose in my parenthood because it'll help me meet and minister to other parents, that doesn't do much to help me find patience with my child when I'm home alone with no other parents to witness our interaction. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know I've been struggling with this for a long time. You know that God has done some work in my heart to encourage me in these hard moments. And it is still hard. So He is faithful to keep giving me more encouragement that I so deeply need.

I was studying Luke 1 the other day, reading the story of this guy, Zechariah, who was an old priest who'd been praying for years and years and years for he and his wife, Elizabeth, to have a kid. The one day in his life comes up, when he gets to offer incense and enter the sanctuary of the Lord. He goes in, and the angel Gabriel shows up to have a chat with him. After four hundred years of silence from God, no signs, no prophecies, no nothing, God breaks the silence for this scene.

Gabriel tells Zechariah that he and Elizabeth are going to have a baby boy, John, that will be filled with the Holy Spirit, have the power of Elijah, and he will prepare the way for the Messiah. Wo. This son he has always wanted and had maybe mostly given up hope for ever having was going to till the soil of the hearts of Israel so that they would be prepared to receive Jesus and to believe in Him as their savior. Wo. Wo. Wo.

Israel's hearts were so disobedient that God had cut off communication for 400 years. And now after 400 years of silence, I imagine their spiritual receptors could have been rather dried up. So how was John going to re-open those hearts that they could see God? I'm expecting to hear things like reminding them of the prophecies about the Christ, remind them of the law and how it reveals their need for a savior, remind them that they are supposed to be a people holy and set apart. So let's see what Gabriel says, check out Luke 1:17:

"With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before Him (the Messiah), to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord."

Definitely some reference back to old prophets, wisdom, righteousness. But what sticks out to me is this bit, "turn the hearts of parents to their children." Seems really out of left field in this context. What does that have to do with anything? Not a note in my bible of explanation. Thankfully, my friend's bible commentary was more helpful and pointed us to Malachi 4:5-6, the very last word from God before the 400 years of silence:

"Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse."

So it is not just a random insertion. It's the last word spoken before the 400 years of silence, first word spoken after, like bookends. So it seems like there could be something really important about it.

It wouldn't have been said if it were unnecessary. If it were super easy for parents to love their kids, why would this be so important for John to do? So for one, this feels like validation of the challenge to love kids, I can breathe a little sigh of relief for having that feeling sometimes.

But for two, look at the purpose of doing so. Verse 16 of Luke 1 says, "He (John) will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God." How many people find it hard to want to get anywhere near Christians because Christians have been so unloving towards them or they've witnessed Christians being so unloving towards others? How many people can identify with the struggle to love God as "Father," because their own father/parent wasn't very loving? When parents abuse or neglect their children, broadly speaking, those children have a hard time with love as they go about their life. And similarly, broadly speaking, when parents love their children, those children grow into people who know better how to receive and give love with other people. But I also believe it becomes more natural to receive the love of God. Apparently it is even a key component in helping to prepare a heart, maybe the parent's, maybe the child's, to receive Christ as savior, if I'm reading these verses correctly. So . . .

Loving my kid is hard, AND, loving my kid is really important.

I can try my hardest to feed her well, keep her healthy, make her brilliant, make her an athletic star, make her the most popular and beloved person in the world, and I'm going to fail to a greater or lesser extent in all of these pursuits. But if I can just love her to the best of my ability, maybe that'll be enough to open her heart to God, who will meet all of her truest and deepest needs without failing. When I do the hardest work, loving her, I am nurturing a heart to be receptive to a greater love than my own, a love that can push past the most unlovable characteristics and behaviors, a love that can help my child become her best possible self.

Dear fellow parents, who sometimes feel bewildered, who feel daunted by the road that lies ahead, who are all too familiar with the end of their ropes, who are afraid to admit that loving their kid is hard, and who need to know all the blood, sweat, and tears are worth the effort, take courage. There is great great significance in the love that you are about to give and have been giving to each of your children. This love in and of itself is Kingdom work. 


Dear Parents, Dear Children, let's let love come in. 


P.S. I also find great encouragement in work of the Kingdom of God, in that the work itself has important significance, but just as God's love is infinite, so the work of God seems to infinitely grow. Even though the work is significant in itself, it also tends to be a preparation for a greater work to come, and that's how the Kingdom grows, one building block at a time. 

[Best of Year One] Cooking with Zoe: A Letter to my Love

[originally posted FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 2012]

Dear Husband,


Standing with our backs facing each other, I wanted to tell you how much I missed this, cooking together. Me with stinging eyes, crying over onions, you with diligent hands, stirring the chicken. The scent of ginger and garlic, and the sound of music playing while we silently work. The brush of your arm against my arm as we swirl around each other in this culinary dance. Occasionally we turn and glance at each other, we steal a kiss. We share a taste of what we are creating together. 


We used to have this every night, this meal we prepared for each other. And I wanted to tell you how many together-things I missed doing with you since Sofia came. Lounging in bed in the morning, talking as long as we choose. Holding hands in a movie theater. Losing ourselves in the obsession of a video game until our eyes gave out or our stomachs cry too loud. Walking side by side under the stars, feeling open and free. 


But it didn't feel quite true. 


Missing things felt like declaring there was an unfilled hole, a vacancy in our love. And while it was a warm comfort to return to this act of communion after so many months past, the new things we do together bring me joy too, so much joy that I'm not ready to trade back just yet. 


You're still there when I cook, but now you are in and out of the kitchen, running before or behind our not-so-toddling-toddler. You are on the floor identifying objects of her  constant pointing. You are grasping her away from her incessant attempts to touch the oven. You are still present at my back, but she is in you arms, nuzzling her head under your chin. 

My mother taught me the art of breathing in relaxation in the kitchen, and you are teaching me the art of breathing out the joy of my family in the very same place. Breath in the wafting smells of spices and herbs, laugh out the the surprise of her new word so exuberantly expressed. Breath in the steam from a boiling pot, breath out a sigh of wonder at the tenderness with which she caresses your face. 

This is a life filled with abundance. This is sweet sustenance. This is love boiling over.


The time will come again when we cook together day in and day out. And that time will be a sweet return. And for today, I am ok that we have a new flavor of love to share. What we are creating together now, this life, it sure tastes good. 

In this special season of life, my love, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.


Love,
your wife

Dear Grammy (or: "Zoe's not-so-secret Garden Part III")

Zoë's Garden Part III: Nature and Nurture


Dear Grammy,


I have few memories of you not tending to people around you, specifically me in fact. You have a special gift for making the person you're with feel like the center of your universe. But one of those rare memories I hold is of the times you would be in linen shorts and a sleeveless button down shirt, maybe with a sunhat or scarf on your head, shovel in hand, crouching down amidst azaleas, tending to your garden. I remember a happy, quiet peace about you in the garden. 


While I'm very happy for all the new convenience, safety, and simplicity in your new apartment lifestyle, it saddens me whenever I tell you about my yard and you lament no longer having your own to wander about. I wish you could just be here to garden with Sofia and I every day, and that's why I would love to share some photos of it with you. For you, I've specifically picked some photos with Sofia in it, because I know that's what you really love getting to see best. 


Our garden is filled with so many beautiful flowers and even some herbs and vegetables that we inherited. Even though I barely did a thing last summer to invest in this ground myself, I'm certainly reaping the benefits now of my predecessors' sweat and toil. So much white, yellow, red, and green springing up everywhere. Sofia and I love discovering something new every day we go out there. We can't get enough.

. . . even napping in the garden

I've never gardened with my daughter alongside me while I work before. I can't tell you how many sweet moments I've spent, lifting my head up while my hands are still in the dirt, catching her quietly investigating the contents of the grass or studying the meaning of the universe through plants. Gardening highlights for me how miraculous nature is, how little I do to aid in life coming forth, and similarly, how small but significant my hand is in Sofia's life too. Many of these plants would have been stifled under debris if I hadn't come through to clear them away, but they are otherwise growing on their own. So too with Sofia?

Well, maybe they could not grow so well completely on their own. I've certainly pulled my fair share of weeds out of these beds, heaping piles in fact. I've pulled unfortunately large amounts of weeds out of Sofia too. She spends half our time outside running around, grabbing huge handfuls of dirt out of my nicely prepared planters. It begins as a little competition between us, I'm turning the soil or filling a pot and she wants to grab my dirt away from me. She snatches it right off my shovel. But this is not meant just to foil my efforts. She runs that dirt quickly over to our garden gnome and gently offers it to his mouth, sometimes finishing off the act by giving him a little kiss on his beard. This process is one I find endearing. I figure I can spare some of my dirt for the sake of her pet. Perhaps she too is trying to nurture something she loves, just like me with my garden, and me with her. 
But then, she starts to grab handfuls and shoves them into her mouth, "Dirt!" And just as I begin to chase after her and try to wipe it all out and off, she's grabbing another handful and tossing that on top of her head, rubbing it into her hair and wiping it all over her clothes, "Dirt!" And so I run back and forth between tending my planters and tending my child. And so begins my role as disciplinarian.

Grammy, you were the one I always called whenever I was disciplined and felt mad about it, which was probably whenever I was disciplined. You listened and you let me cry. That's the joy in being the grandparent, right? You get to love on the kids and you don't have to be the disciplinarian anymore. But you were so consistent in telling me over and over that when my parents discipline me and set boundaries for me, it means they love me. And you were right. You could have just played "nice cop" to their "bad cop," but you backed them up 100% of the time and helped me accept the boundaries they set. And believe it or not, probably in part thanks to how you helped me look at things, I look back on my upbringing and feel thankful for my parents' discipline and for the scrapes their boundaries kept me safe from. 

Another more literal boundary we've been struggling with is our fence line. Not that we have much fence to speak of. Sofia could easily weasel through that sucker, but she doesn't quite know that yet. She does know that there is a whole new yard, and fields, and woods on the other side of that fence that she can reach through an opening in the middle. For the past couple weeks, she's been darting through that opening to run after blackbirds, dogs, and people on bikes. Several times each day, I chase her down. We get to the fence line, I crouch down, restraining her with my arms all about her, and I have a little talk with her about not leaving the fenced in area without Mommy. 

Well for a few days now, she's looked up to see that opening, looked at me, crept near to it, halted, and then run back to me, grabbing my hand and dragging me to and through it. I can't believe it. My discipline worked. She didn't decide to resent and hate me forever, she works within my rule and we have so much more fun now. I'm so glad you taught me that discipline done well is love, Grammy. Of course, it remains to see how well this will work out about 12 years from now . . . 

I think the new growth finally popping up out of these blankets of dirt give me a visual hint about the fruit of my nurture - with labor and patience, growth can come through in a few spots. And maybe, through time we're spending out in the garden together, Sofia is growing too. 

She's learning new words and how to identify colors (well color singular at least, we see a lot of green). She's spotting new bugs and how they crawl. She's unearthing new plants and taste-testing the weeds. She's struggling against my boundaries. She's figuring out how to share with me (dirt and other things too). She's getting her first tastes of cooperation, obedience, and patience. 
The garden has added this new dynamic to our relationship. In the garden, we've found a safe place to have a bit more space and independence from one another, a place to work side by side to a common end, a place to enjoy well earned breaks or moments of celebration for work done well, and a place to learn and grow together. 

It's a beautiful place, Grammy. I wish you could be with us to feel the warmth of the Maine sun, to picknick in our grass, to laugh at Sofia's antics, to hear the wave like sounds of wind rushing through our pine trees. But I hope you can enjoy these photos of Sofia in it at least. 


And I hope you know that I'm passing on a lesson or two that you taught me. More than that, I hope you know that I am grateful for the ways you made me who I am, ways that help me love my Sofia and help her to grow. I hope you know that in our garden, your labor of love is bearing sweet sweet fruit. 

Love,

Zoë Faith

Cooking with Zoe: A letter to my love

Dear Husband,


Standing with our backs facing each other, I wanted to tell you how much I missed this, cooking together. Me with stinging eyes, crying over onions, you with diligent hands, stirring the chicken. The scent of ginger and garlic, and the sound of music playing while we silently work. The brush of your arm against my arm as we swirl around each other in this culinary dance. Occasionally we turn and glance at each other, we steal a kiss. We share a taste of what we are creating together. 


We used to have this every night, this meal we prepared for each other. And I wanted to tell you how many together-things I missed doing with you since Sofia came. Lounging in bed in the morning, talking as long as we choose. Holding hands in a movie theater. Losing ourselves in the obsession of a video game until our eyes gave out or our stomachs cry too loud. Walking side by side under the stars, feeling open and free. 


But it didn't feel quite true. 


Missing things felt like declaring there was an unfilled hole, a vacancy in our love. And while it was a warm comfort to return to this act of communion after so many months past, the new things we do together bring me joy too, so much joy that I'm not ready to trade back just yet. 


You're still there when I cook, but now you are in and out of the kitchen, running before or behind our not-so-toddling-toddler. You are on the floor identifying objects of her  constant pointing. You are grasping her away from her incessant attempts to touch the oven. You are still present at my back, but she is in you arms, nuzzling her head under your chin. 

My mother taught me the art of breathing in relaxation in the kitchen, and you are teaching me the art of breathing out the joy of my family in the very same place. Breath in the wafting smells of spices and herbs, laugh out the the surprise of her new word so exuberantly expressed. Breath in the steam from a boiling pot, breath out a sigh of wonder at the tenderness with which she caresses your face. 

This is a life filled with abundance. This is sweet sustenance. This is love boiling over.


The time will come again when we cook together day in and day out. And that time will be a sweet return. And for today, I am ok that we have a new flavor of love to share. What we are creating together now, this life, it sure tastes good. 

In this special season of life, my love, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day.


Love,
your wife

Eating with Zoe: The Coffee Shop Edition

or: "A love story told in coffee shop recommendations:"


I can remember standing on tippy toes, peering over the counter just enough to be able to look down into my father's coffee mug. As he poured the cream into the deep brown, the white billows would rise up and swirl. Even before I learned to like the taste of coffee, I loved the aesthetic experience. It was a simple but romantic nightly ritual that my parents shared. My own enjoyment of coffee began in eighth grade with regular visits to Dietrich's (which sadly no longer exists outside of the keurig cup distribution). But the romance of the drink did not come for some time later.


I married a man who did not drink coffee. I brought my coffee maker into our marriage, but for years had to use it alone. Until one night, we had our friends, Faith and Erick, over to our place. As I made some coffee for the rest of us, Erick remarked with great shock at how Manny, a graduate student no less, wasn't drinking any with us. Manny is the last person to let peer pressure force his behavior. But when I mentioned to Erick how drinking coffee together was, in my mind, such a romantic ideal, Manny picked up on it, and resolved to learn to love coffee for my sake.


This 180 degree switch felt romantic enough to me. I felt heard and loved. But it was a switch that kept on giving, as coffee has facilitated so many romantic experiences for us since Manny's conversion. As students studying together for hours on end in cafe's, as parents finding the liquid strength to open our eyes to yet another day that comes too early, as two people in love relishing one another's company, Manny and I have greatly enjoyed exploring all the flavors and aromas of some good cups of joe.


Our caffeinated journey has taken us to several establishments that hold fond memories for us and perhaps some fun recommendations for YOU!


In Santa Barbara, there are a handful of cool coffee shops, but our hang out was always the Coffee Cat. Being pre-coffee-conversion for Manny, he always ordered the Calico Cat - a peanut buttery chocolately glass of goodness that they rarely ever actually had the ingredients for on hand.


In and around Berkeley, the coffee shop you frequent is an important part of your public identity. This was too much pressure for us, and also parking is a pain near campus, so we generally stayed off the beaten paths and just found our own humble little hang outs. 33 Revolutions, a record store/concert venue/cafe/coffee shop was one of our first favorites - great open atmosphere for studying - but it has since gone out of business, I'm sad to say.


Other shops where we spent hours upon hours reading, studying, and writing theses included:

• Tomate Cafe Great breakfast and lunch too!
• Buttercream Doesn't the name just make you want to go? The owner is beautifully invested in the local community of Albany, and you can feel it in the vide of the place. Delightful spot for a tea time treat!
• Blue Bottle Coffee Wanna feel cool in the Bay Area? Drink Blue Bottle Coffee. We enjoyed cups of Blue Bottle at the Ferry Building Farmers Market, but our most memorable romantic moment was at the Oakland cafe - one of our first coffee shop dates unencumbered by back packs and laptops - this was a treat we regret not partaking of more! 

One characteristic about San Diego that I adored was how often you could find public spaces where older men tended to congregate on a routine basis to hang out. It made me feel like I was in Italy, visiting the piazzas. Something about all the military bases being there perhaps. Anyways, Manny and I often found these men lounging around the coffee shops we frequented and I often had trouble focussing on my work of the day because I was so intrigued by ease dropping on the men chattering about their lives, politics, cars, weather, what have you. Not necessarily all old-men-hang-outs, but a couple of our favorite coffee places in San Diego were:

• Zumbar High quality coffee - love the hummingbird roast!
• The Living Room Yummy pastries, cozy atmosphere, ocean view [though just a sliver] - this was probably my favorite hang out spot in SD and the site of this precious moment. 

Now we're in Maine and trying to discover our new favorite coffee shops. So far we've thoroughly enjoyed the following spots and look forward to warming up at each of them throughout the long winters!

• Bohemian Coffee
• Little Dog
• Frontier Cafe 

What rituals do you find romantic, Lobsters? What are your favorite coffee hang outs? How many of you are concerned that I might have a caffeine addiction? 

poorly written movie moments: part one

A young man boards a packed airplane on his way home for Thanksgiving, and right before the plane is scheduled to take off, a beautiful young woman sits down in his row. There's an empty seat between them, even though the flight is supposedly sold out. They start chatting and find that they have a lot in common, including their strong faith, the fact that they live in the southeast and are moving to Orange County in a couple of weeks, and countless other small things. They find out that the plane is delayed by hours, and the pilot invites everyone to exit the plane to get food. They go together. 


Nine hours later, they are both in Orange County and in love. One flight attendant says that in her 25 years at the job, she's never seen such an instant and powerful connection between strangers. When they get home, he takes her to meet his family, then she takes him to her family. They profess love and a desire to marry. All within five days.


Gag me, right? If I saw this in a movie, I would think the writers were lazy and idiotic. But this is totally what happened to the guy who was sitting next to us on our flight home from California. He talked about how his family would usually be skeptical about something like this, but they were completely on board when they met her. He told us that just three days before meeting her, he was on his knees before God, expressing his strong desire to have a wife, questioning when he'd meet her, wishing for a sign that God was listening. Amazing.


Life is truly sometimes cheesier than fiction. More examples to come from my own life, and I'd love to know if you have any too, Lobsters.

All the Single Ladies (and Gentlemen)

A while back, Emily responded to a reader request and wrote this fun, funny post about her thoughts on why guys today don't commit. Her light hearted post seemed to generate some really intriguing thoughts and dialogue, and it's kept me mulling over some of the propositions and problems posed. More recently, I've read some other articles about marriage and the current state of men's and women's attitudes around marital commitment. One was posted on a friends Facebook page, asking if any women had any thoughts on it. I just had too many thoughts for a Facebook comment, so I'm writing a post about it. I am hoping to prod him into writing a parallel post, so you can get two sides of a response to this single woman - a married woman, and a single man's thoughts on what she has to say.


Here is the article from The Atlantic he was asking about: All The Single Ladies by Kate Bolick. It is rather long, but provides some fascinating history and psychology and personal anecdotes around trends in fidelity and thoughts on the supply and demand of marriageable men or women. And here are a few of my reactions to it:


1) The One. I think one nugget of truth she puts out there is that the idea: "one human being can fulfill all your emotional/social/physical/financial desires/hopes/dreams" is false and also dangerous. But while she uses this as support for a choice to remain single, I think it is also something that married people would do well to come to grips with in order to enhance the health of their marriages. I can be a better wife to Manny when I stay connected to my other family members [and his too - I love his family!], and I work on my friendships [even when they're long distance, hence this blog]. When I isolate myself (and I do do that sometimes), our marriage suffers from bearing too much weight of my breadth of needs. 


2) Where have all the Husbands gone? Kate Bolick illustrates how the imbalance of successful women compared to the number of marriageable male prospects leads men and women to be more promiscuous, because the men have plenty of good options and little need to commit to one if the next best thing might be just around the corner. [as an aside, I also recently watched a documentary about how China is having an inverse problem of too many men. Check out "China's Lost Girls," to see the negative unintended consequences they are struggling with] Maybe this is the key answer to the reader's original question that Emily was addressing. But having attended a college where the ratio of women to men was 3 to 1, I got to see a microcosm of this imbalance at work, and I think there is a segment of the male population getting overlooked in this observation. At Westmont, each guy had, in theory, three women to himself. Some of the guys used this as an opportunity to date around, like Bolick observes. But other guys had higher esteem for women or commitment to a fidelity ethic. These other guys might be a significant minority of the population, but I believe they are out there. I saw these guys suffer from intense pressure of three women lining outside their door demanding they pick one of them and put them out of their single-misery (somewhat metaphorically, only on occasion did this literally happen ;)  ). I think a lot of these guys didn't like being pushed into rejecting two girls in order to assuage one, and so they just didn't ask anyone out. It was also a small Christian community, so when the guy picked that one out of three, there was tons of pressure for him to make it work out well. Lots of eyes evaluating whether he made the right choice, if he was honorable in their relationship, when was he going to give her a ring?? It is no wonder there were tons of articles in the campus newspaper addressing the question of why no one dated outside of the dorm initiated "NCTO's" [Non-committal take outs, where a whole dorm floor of men or women set each other up on dates and went out as a big group under the strict understanding that it was non-committal, no one was allowed to expect exclusive relationships after that night, or you know, diamond rings or anything]. This pressure concept really is just a theory in my own head. I'd be very interested to hear from guys whether there is any truth to it. 


3) Redefine worth. Bolick wants us to open our minds to a broader concept of acceptable life styles. For example, she speaks against "Singlism" (marginalizing people in our society who are single as if they are lesser or nothing but crazy-cat-ladies), and broadening our ideas of acceptability in mates. Part of the problem she is pointing out is that our population is still fairly balanced in quantity of men to women, but the quality of women is up (higher rates of bachelors/graduate degrees, increasing salaries, less job loss during the Great Recession, ability to successfully manage single-parenting, etc.) and out pacing men. It seems as though there was a period of time (shorter than we might think, apparently) where men told women we could not earn money outside the home for whatever reasons. And women rose up and responded, "anything you can do, I can do better." Now we are proving our point, but often looking down on men who can't seem to keep up with us anymore. This has long been a sore point for me. I think it may be a minority of women who hold this superiority and scorn, but for those that do, how are we doing anything better than the men who oppressed us with sexism and patriarchy? Healthy feminism does something more to "lift as we rise" as many minority groups advocate. Yes. We can do well in school, yes we can be amazing CEO's, yes we can juggle seemingly insurmountable tasks. There are a lot of superwomen out there! But how can we use that new found power and voice to establish a new measuring stick of success? A new rubric for respect? Instead of climbing to the top and looking around to find no acceptable mates, could we instead re-determine the top as a list of valuable character traits other than net worth, degree attainment, social status. Every woman in my maternal line for about five generations back has married a man that was the first in his family to graduate from college. We committed to character and potential rather than attainment. And it is surprising how well that keeps working out for us. With great power comes great responsibility.


4) No Woman is an Island. Bolick seems to conclude with a proposition that single women start living in closer proximity - almost dorm-like - so that they can maintain their single independence, but have that extra human being(s) around to care for you when independence doesn't cover all of the bases. Interesting idea, and perhaps our society is arriving at a point where this is really possible. But from my personal observations, we're not quite there yet. Too many of my single female friends enjoy this perpetual girls-night-out life style only until the other girls find husbands, gradually leaving the group to dwindle. Is there something about that formal marriage commitment that ensures that other person will be around to support you? In theory - plenty of spouses don't quite live up to this expectation and obviously there is the possibility of divorce. So I guess married or not, we can't totally count on others to be there for us no matter what. Humans flake. 


I have a crazy proposition in response. What if we abolished this unspoken law that married and single people can not be friends?!? I guess this is a bit duplicatory of point one - but in a more tangible form. I have yet to make and single female friends since moving to Maine, and I'm realizing there is a whole in my social world. I miss my single friends from previous chapters of my life. They keep my world view in a more balanced perspective, they can be available to me in ways that my other married/mom friends can not. Just the other night, I was thinking longingly of the days when we regularly enjoyed game nights with friends, because now all our friends are similarly strapped to their homes after bed time and can not come over and play. If I had more unencumbered friends, this part of my life I used to enjoy wouldn't have to die for this season of Sofia's baby-hood. That's a very small and selfish piece. More importantly, this could mean that is my single friend needs a ride to and from the hospital, I could give it to her. Or when my husband is out of town, maybe she could come over and help me out with my baby. I truly believe we can be more well rounded when we diversify the life stages our friends are in, so that we don't get so lost in the tunnel vision of what matters in our own day to day. So let's call an end to this arbitrary divide and make the effort to overcome life style barriers to stay friends with people in different seasons of life. 


5) Marriage is hard. I have been realizing that the sort of discontent I perceive women of the previous generations suffering from having no other option than staying home seems to be present with plenty of women stuck in careers they are discontent with. Stuck is stuck. Women who are frustrated in being single are often experiencing some of the very same core emotions as women who are married (happily or otherwise). Lonely is lonely. Life is hard. Relationships are hard. Commitment is hard. Etc. But we can't let hard keep us from good. Becoming a parent is the hardest, most painful thing I've ever done, but I would never trade Sofia in for anything. This is the beauty of pain. So for those of you avoiding marriage because it's hard, it might fail, the sacrifice for something better that might be waiting in the future (key word = might) doesn't seem worth it, please consider that the hardest things are also often the sweetest things. Marriage really is not something you should choose just for social conformity, it really has to be something you are willing to devote a lot of personal sacrifice to without expecting a perfect, blissful, fairy-tale ending. I love marriage immensely, but my position is to avoid it unless you find someone you are really willing to lay down your life for, and vice versa, in more ways than you can anticipate. But I also propose that we get less stingy with our own lives, giving them up is the best way to live. I think Laura A. Munson's article in the New York Times captures this beautifully (and is much shorter than the first article, so you should totally check it out): 

Those Aren't Fighting Words, Dear by Laura A. Munson 


I think the core opportunity illuminated here is for us to identify the barriers that are keeping us from loving each other more fully and figure out how to get over them. But I would really love to hear your thoughts and reactions. I am looking at this from one specific angle and would appreciate others who could help round out my perspective. 

Three Years Ago Today

Three years ago today, I woke up on my sister’s plush green couch and watched Dan in Real Life while enjoying donut holes and orange juice. I went to Happy Nails with some of my favorite friends and had a manicure and pedicure. I ate at Rubio’s for lunch – chicken taquitos, chips, a churro, a big Diet Coke. Delicious.

Three years ago today, I relaxed for a few hours in the nursery of my childhood church. I had my hair done and actually liked how it turned out, and I put on the biggest, whitest dress of my life. Various vital women came and went, providing joy and comfort with their brief visits.

Three years ago today, I stood in the back of the church feeling a little bit nervous, clutching Daddy’s arm. Friends gathered around me and prayed for my future. My boss snuck in late and whispered “hello” and I whispered “you’re fired” and we chuckled and I felt less nervous. My best guy friend told me “this is your moment” and smiled at me before opening the doors to the church.

Photo: Christine Lee Smith
www.clsphotography.com

Three years ago today, I walked down the aisle with a smile pasted to my face while the man I love smiled back and cried. A lot. We remembered Jesus and His example of perfect love with an animal cracker and juice communion. We promised forever, and we meant it, and we immediately told the world about our promise on Facebook.

Three years ago today, we threw the best party I’ve ever attended. We had In-n-Out, a photo booth, a jazz band, colorful homemade desserts, and dancing, dancing, dancing. We dressed up a homely courtyard, filling it with strings of light and people we love. And it was all perfect because I was with my husband, who I love even more today than I did three years ago.

Photo: Christine Lee Smith
www.clsphotography.com

Happy anniversary, Jeffrey Michael!

Snapshot Saturday #3: the shot that started it all

Sophomore year of college. First photography class. Assignment: portraits. I asked my buddy, Nate, if I could use him as a subject. Not only did I get an enthusiastic "sure," but also, he brought along a whole group of friends. I told them to gather up some props and come to the Armington lawn. One by one they sat awkwardly for me while I danced around the polite sphere of personal space. Jon used someone's guitar as a prop, but held it backwards - not knowing any better, making for some comical shots. Then you sat down.

You grabbed the same guitar. Not only did you know how to hold it, you knew how to play. You began to mess around with some little jazzy improv-y chord progressions. I lost site of the sphere of personal space all together. You drew me in and I was entranced. I don't think I even realized what I was doing. I've always wondered what you were thinking as my lens got right up in your face.

Later that evening, I spent a few hours alone in the dark room. That's when it really hit me. As the shot of you developed and I saw that image coming into view in that red light, a powerful, visceral rush of excitement/butterflies/awe/joy rushed over me. Bam! It was like I got hit by a truck that was my-intense-crush-on-you. Full on twitter-pated.

You looked so mysterious. I wanted to discover what that mystery was all about. I needed any excuse to see you again as soon as possible. I rushed down the hill to your dorm, only to find your room darkened with multiple girls snuggled up on your couch. But you weren't on that couch. You were on the bunk above them, from which you jumped down faster than I could finish knocking on your door. I was almost too overwhelmed and nervous to know what to say. "Uh, I finished developing the photos. It took a few tries to get it quite right for the assignment. I thought your mom might want some pictures of you or something." And she knew right away. On your next visit home, when you handed her those prints, she knew better than even I did how completely smitten I was with you. She could see it in the shot. Smart lady.

Here we are. Six years ago today, we got married.

I still love this shot.

I love that I got to capture and preserve the exact moment that my heart fell in love with you.

I love that I'm still enthralled with discovering your mystery.

I love that the power with which those feelings hit me as your image developed was just the smallest glimpse of the way I feel about you today, as if our love is ever-developing and coming more fully into view.

I love you, Manny.

Happy Anniversary my dear husband.

Evolution of Love

Dear Emily [and other pregnant Lobsters],

I’m so excited that your baby girl is on the way. In less than two months she’ll be here! I know you have a ton going on right now, but I’ve realized something lately and I wanted to share it with you. I hope it will be a little something in the back of your mind that gets you excited about what you have to look forward to.

I was holding Sofia in my arms recently. I was exhausted. My back was in excruciating pain from carrying her around all day for the past who knows how many days. She was squirming, so it was making it difficult to feed her. I was on the verge of exasperation. [getting excited yet?] But I felt this overwhelming love for her wash over me. I had no reason to believe she had any happy feelings towards me right then, but I didn’t need any. I loved her so fully in that moment, whether or not she loved me back. It was fine by me if our love was completely one sided.

I realized I’d entered a new phase of my life. Before she came, for years I had been in a phase of life that was about finding requited love – someone who would love me the way I loved them. During that phase, there were mellow dramatic seasons of singleness, wondering if I’d always be alone; relationships where the other person thought more of me than I thought of them; relationships where I thought more of the other person than they thought of me; and finally a relationship where we both thought more of the other person that we thought of ourselves.

I thought about how nice it was, to come into a phase of my life where even if this love is unrequited, I am not bothered at all, it brings me joy anyway. And then I realized, preceding the phase of searching for a love of balance between two people, I had been on the other end of this one-sided love. I was obviously a child once too. I know my parents felt this love for me because of all the times I was a twitt to them, but they kept loving me anyway. Their love was not dependent on my love.

So I’ve gone from fully receiving, to searching for a symbiotic give and take, and now to fully giving. I’ve come full circle. There is an incredible sweetness to this phase, and I can’t wait for you to taste it too!

Lurv,

z