The Return of Winter

Winter returned this week. I have only a couple photos this Sunday, since I'm working with a fresh install of Windows and I'm still getting my system up and running. I have no Raw file access yet.

Easter Bonnets

Of One-Year-Olds and Three-Year-Olds

Well, we went to the library today, Nelly and Mona and I. And I was browsing through books, glancing up every second and a half to check on the girls, and suddenly I was transfixed by a pair of blue eyes. Mona's blue eyes. A look of intense pride was on her face, and the joy of discovery, and her finger was in her nose--all the way in, straight up. Guess there's a first time for everything.

Shortly afterwards, buckling the girls into their seats, I knelt briefly on Nelly in order to get to Mona. A voice sounded under my left ear, with exaggerated comic emphasis: "My, my! What a lot of Mommy! Are they all for me??!"

Uncle Stephen

Mona learned to kiss in time for Uncle Stephen's visit.

Uncle Stephen is "Ok" with Mona. We all had a great visit. Hope he can come again soon.

I took some photos of, of course.

Easter Reminder

I was clearing through My Documents this week and I ran across a document with a bunch of stuff from a forum I used to participate in. As I read the following selection I was reminded of Easter hope and of my nephew Andrew who went to be with the Lord in the cold January of 2004. Christ is Risen.... He is Risen Indeed.

Perhaps this seems a bit mystical and devotional to what I sense are many reformed ears. Yet this is one of our chief faults as the reformed—it is not just our minds that commune with Christ, and we don’t get to heaven for being right. Christ is in heaven incarnate. One day we will bow at his feet, and they will be real feet, and we will get down on our real knees, and if you don’t feel something in your heart as you think about that day I don’t know how you can be loving as you ought. A member of my family died yesterday. As we mourn I look forward to that day when we will see Him face to face. And I am much comforted that He has gone before us in death, and that He has risen again, and that He has greeted our little one who entered the Kingdom as a little child, never even born.

We need to love this doctrine, but we need to love it as we live it. Do we live as though our Lord knows what sweat tastes like? Or are we acting like His incarnation is fully comprehended in our systematics?

Jesus wept.

This is a great comfort to us and a great glory of the gospel.

With Joy Like Swords,

Brightrock

"Elendil! Elendil! The Land of Lothlorien!"

These pictures show the new pretending play that Claire described below.

The Lady Galadriel has been wounded, so Elrond and Arwen are moving her to the houses of healing.

Earlier in the day before Galadriel was wounded.

The Elven Lord Elrond--complete with goggles and fireman helmet.

Common Sights at Our House

Peter has nearly finished with reading Lord of the Rings aloud to the kids. We've passed all the good points--Helm's Deep, Shelob's cave, Mount Doom, the final battle--and our kids' playtimes have taken on a distinct new flavor. Inge, their fearless leader, has a war cry. It goes, "Elbereth, Elbereth, and the Land of Lothlorien!" and she springs from the play structure onto the rope swing, and swings majestically out into space.

Capes, rings, and crowns play a large part in all this play; but, to our pleasure and general intriguement, so do the submachine gun, the fireman's helmet, and the snorkeling goggles. It is not uncommon to see the lady Galadriel approaching, robed in lace, sparkling from her face (It's Nelly, so the shiny lip gloss does double and triple duty), and with the assault weapon jammed into her sweatpants. Or Elrond, brandishing a sword and garbed in his kingly robes...and also featuring the goggles and fire chief's helmet.

The Lady Arwen takes issue with all these loose interpretations of the narrative, but Daddy has overruled her: Elrond and Galadriel are to wear what they please, when they please, and how they please. This led to some dismay tonight, when Galadriel adopted a look straight out of the roaring twenties, swathing her head in an exotic French-looking headdress of lace, and mincing pridefully out into the family room-- with Arwen in hot pursuit, spewing fashion advice from every opening as she came.

And later, just before bedtime, I saw what might have been a funeral procession: Inge and Lewis, each carrying one end of Nelly, with the bulk of that young lady collapsed accordion-style between them. Her eyes were open, but as she saw me she recollected herself and closed them, and a look of pain overspread her features. They bore her in somber dignity to the Ikea tent, laid her there, and spread a cape over her in the House of Healing. Unfortunately for the game, but fortunately for Nelly, everyone was called for prayer just then, so the two olders pronounced her healed after a stunningly short stay of only thirty seconds--surely record time, even for Elves.

Maybe That's Why We Can't Understand Her

"Mona speaks French."

~Lewis

Mona's One Year Old

Big Kids

Lewis and Clark

Scraps from Portland Trip

Saturday Morning Nelly

Nelly often comes in to pass the time of day before we're up. In fact, she, of all the kids, is most likely to be up early and looking for food, the only clue having been a soft padding of feet past the door. Well, as usual, this morning she woke up hungry. Several authorized crackers later, she returned to where we were enjoying, we felt, a much deserved sleep-in (marred only slightly by the presence of Mona); and purposefully pried up the blind.
"It's day in here," she observed.
"Don't worry, Nelly. We'll get up soon," I assured her.
She replied with vigor, obviously having arrived at the crux of the matter. "And fix food."

Later, at the breakfast table, she requested salt and pepper for her eggs. The only catch was, she wanted to be in charge of the application. We didn't mind her shaking the salt on, but we felt the pepper might be better handled by an adult, to which judgment she took exception. "This is ridiclious," she muttered, moodily sinking her chin onto her hands. "I can't believe you won't let me do it myself."