yay and yahoo.

Since I am a small-time blogger and don't really let anyone know that I even do this, I somehow feel okay confessing over cyberspace that my uterus is killing me right now. Well, it hurts really bad. It might actually be killing me too. I can't tell from here.

And yet this monthly ritual of pain onset and drug use means something very 

dear, very precious: I'm not pregnant. And while I can't say for sure---having only heard about it second-hand---pregnancy and childbirth and parenting seem a lot more painful and time consuming and difficult than what I'm going through. So in that spirit I say 

woohoo! yay! fantastic! 

as a child

As a child I searched for you. There was the soft prayer necklace of the Catholic boy from my day care -- it hung around my neck, it hung against my bare chest, but it was silent. You were not in the necklace and I did not know how to call out for you.

And I remember shutting myself away in a small room for quiet, so that I could learn the words in the back of that book. It was at the end of the Bible---it had its own special page with a color illustration---so I thought it must be one of the important parts. I did learn it, reciting it at night by my bedside as I had seen on TV. "Our Father in heaven, hallowed is your name..." But I didn't know your name. And I didn't know that you were my Father.

And when the Stevens' couldn't give me a ride, I would put on my too-small dress shoes and walk to the church. It was a very big building and it had a very big cross and you were supposed to be there. I went in, I listened somewhat, I even ate the bread and drank the wine, but I never saw you there: not in the crowded lobby or the lofty sanctuary, not on the cross, not on the silver plate and not in the tiny glass. Maybe you were there, but I didn't know you enough to recognize you.

And later, studying the charts, I learned about my seven astral bodies, my chakras, my inner selves. But knowing this was like knowing a recipe or knowing a table of contents. It was not like knowing a person. If I had ben asked what I was looking for, I would not have said "Somebody." I certainly would never have said that I was looking for you. In fact, if I had been asked what I was looking for, I would have said "Nothing." Which was exactly what I had been finding.

Little could I have guessed that you were there, that you knew my name, that you were calling out after me, that you were searching too.

But when I found that out, 

then I found you.

Isaiah 49, as He spoke it to me.

Listen, people---even you far away people:

GOD called me before I was born 

     and since I've been born He's been saying my name.

He made my mouth like a sharp, dividing sword 

     and then hid me in the palm of His hand.

He made me into a polished arrow---to go straight to the heart

     ---then concealed me in His quiver.

He told me: You are My servant, 

     and My splendor will be displayed in you!

"What?" I said. "I have worked without purpose, 

     I've spent my strength for nothing, absolutely nothing. 

     But . . . it's up to the LORD to give me what I deserve, 

     my reward will come from my God."

And now the LORD---the same one who since my conception 

     has been forming me to accomplish His purposes 

     (to bring the chosen back to Him and gather His people to Himself) 

     because the LORD has seen something honorable in me 

     and He has been my strength

     ---He says:

"It's only a little thing for you to serve Me in restoring My people 

     and bringing back the remnant of My people. 

     I will also make you a light for the unevangelized, 

     that you may carry my salvation far and near."

This is what the LORD (the Rescuer and Holiness of my life) says to me

     ---me who was looked down upon and stepped on: 

     "Respected people will respect you and the powerful will honor you. 

     This will be the result of the LORD's faithfulness 

     and because of the Holy One who has chosen you."

hugs and poop

Christmas day is for eating and opening presents and remembering the nativity and giving hugs and doing times tables, right? Well, that's what I did on Christmas day. I won't bore you with the details of the eating and present-opening. Instead I will bore you with the details of doing times tables.

My niece Bethany is seven and when she re-starts the school year in a week or so, her class will begin learning the multiplication tables. She already knows the 1s, 2s, 5s, and 10s, but I thought it would be fun to learn the 11s and the 9s. So we practiced the 11s . . . 22, 33, 44, 55, 66, 77, 88 (see the pattern?), 99, 110. She caught on that the trick was to just say the number twice and she loved the feeling of knowing a secret. So I taught her the secret I learned about the 9s, the one that my best friend in 3rd grade taught me where you use your hands to solve the problem. She liked this one as well. So here we were, timesing and laughing and sharing math secrets. A grand ol' time for all.

Bethany's mom reminds her about learning the times tables next month and she groans and sticks out her tongue.

"No, no," I say. "You should embrace the times tables because"

She interrupts me with, "What does embrace mean?" Her father answers that it means to hug.

"Yeah, to hug. And in this metaphorical sense, it means to accept and enjoy the times tables. Don't pooh-pooh them because"

"What does pooh-pooh mean? To poop?"

"Uh, no. It means . . . don't talk bad about multiplication tables or tell yourself that you don't like them. Because, trust me, you will be using times tables the rest of your life."

I spend a couple more minutes trying to show her the usefulness of the times tables and then it's time for her to get her coat on and head home.

"So, Bethany, what are you going to do about times tables?"

She answers back perfectly: "I'm going to hug them and not poop on them." Of course.