End of the Year

Well, it is now the end of the year and a time for reflection. I have done A LOT.

January -- I don't remember what I did last January. Eh, I think I just tried to stay on top of everything, especially as I signed up to be Hospitality shepherd (read: coordinator) for our parish.

February -- This month is also a blur. I am pretty sure I started making the massive over-achiever poster for Pre-Sanctified Liturgy meal sign ups.

March -- Lent started. I made a baby terry cloth poncho out of a dishcloth because the one I saw at the gap cost $15 and I thought, "That is just a dishcloth with a hole in it".

April -- Holy Friday fell on Lance's birthday. Or something like that. Could not make pysanky due to dyes and baby. She was still a baby then! And I couldn't fit into my Pascha dress because my boob was too big. I made Nina a cute jumper with a willow pattern and started a skirt for me...that I still haven't finished. Hmm... I also completed a hat for Nina for Pascha.

May -- Wedding anniversary: it was 8 years! Wow. I bought a bunch of material in hopes of making Nina a TON of summer clothes. That never happened. Still have the material. I did make Nina a hat.

June -- Eh, more of a blur. I adjusted a skirt.

July -- Blur. Mom visited and that was awesome.

August -- Nina tosses hat to the winds.

September -- I start making matrushka dolls and finish Nina's hat for Santa Fe. Made dress for Nina out of old skirt. Stats class started.

October -- Nina's birthday with massive amounts of stuff making: party hats, invitations, cards for food, and various other items. Then massive doll and jewlery making for the All American Council. Whew.

November -- Matrushkas still not complete. Oh well.

December -- Matruskas still sitting there in sad pile. Have 50 pounds of fleece in hopes of making Nina pants. Discover Nina likes vests and needs more shirts. *sigh* And she out grew her socks. Have big plans to complete Christmas presents and am done with about a quarter of them. *HUGE SIGH* But stats complete, which is sad because I liked it.

Still, it has been a good year. It has been good even if most of it is a blur. Blurs are good -- blurs mean that I have been so busy and nothing bad has happened that I cannot remember. A good year indeed!

Making Mahtrushkas

I have no idea how to spell it, but basically I am making little Russian nesting dolls sans the nesting part.



I have an affection for these matrushkas -- I just think they are cute. I found one in the middle on etsy before Nina was born that I really liked and I wanted to make more for her. Then I got in in my head that I would make them for the AAC booth our church is having as a fundraiser.

I have been working through various patterns as prototypes. Matush.1 is on the right here. I named her Isabel -- I like the skin tone. I trimmed along the seam lines on the inside and then she started coming apart at the seams.



So then I made Matush.2, also known as Lucy, inspired by my friends' daughter Lucy who is quite tan with blonde, blonde hair and pretty green eyes.



I left the seams alone and the doll seems more sound, but both .1 & .2 look like little Muslim girls in burkas. So, enter Matush.3. with shortened headscarf in back.



Her name is Annie because her hazel eyes remind me of the cartoon Orphan Annie. The effect is much more Matrushka like and less Muslim. The head is better, but obviously the side of her body is a bit off. I think I will stick with the regular pattern shape for the bottom but change the head seams.



More to come! I don't know how many dolls Nina (and other various relations) will have at the end of all this as I don't feel I can sell my prototypes because they are not well made. Gah! I have a goal of five for the booth though.

Baptism, Pt. 2

When I left off, I had just discovered that Lance was the guy I had seen as a prospective student and that I was not blind. I had originally thought he was Joel Nowlin (a colleague of ours) and was not nearly as cute as I remembered. Not that Joel Nowlin isn't great, but he is not Lance.

Anyhow, I did the only sensible thing a Catehuman in love could do and that was get baptized. I was Baptized on January 15, 2001 by Father Dmitri Weber at St. Juliana's. It was the feast of St. Juliana and Bishop Gabriel was there.

My new Godmother, Celeste Ryder, is so sweet -- the most humble and kind person ever and would never admit to this. She is really patient and helped me so much -- whether it was advice or letting me stay with her and her husband, now Deacon Anthony Ryder, during summer break. She had trained as an artist and had received the Bishop's blessing to train as an iconographer. She studied at Jordanville though the harsh winters and spent much time away from home. Now she writes icons. I miss her very much and there is so much I wish I could share with her on a more frequent basis.

Baptism is a gift. My parents and I gave the gift of Faith and tradition that spoke truth to us. What I chose to do with those three gifts was, and is, up to me. It is said that third time is a charm. Let's hope this time my Baptism sticks!

As for why we are at St. Katherine's, that is another story altogether.

For me, St. Juliana's in Santa Fe will be where I "grew up". Lance eventually became a Catehuman and was baptized. I sang in the choir, he served in the altar, and we made a point of going to the Akathist services on Friday (three canons + Akathist being the prayer rule to prepare for Communion) and Vigils on Saturday (complete with three cannons and first hour).

Lance proposed after we both graduated (me a year later than he). We were married in May of 2003 at St. Juliana's. Lance had begun work as a purchaser and technical support at a local solar energy company and I had continued to teach. I was diagnosed with breast cancer six months after we were married. The experience changed our prospective and we decided that staying in Santa Fe was amazing, but we had to move onto other things.

Lance is from Seattle and he wanted to go back to the University of Washington to get an engineering degree. I have always loved Seattle since I first visited in sixth grade. I remember seeing a girl with a shaved head and thought "this place is totally where I want to live." It would be an adventure and I was ready for it.

We had attended St. Nicholas cathedral when we would come up to Seattle for Christmas, but being a parishioner was very different. We had known some Slavonic at St. Juliana's as approximately 40% of the service was in Slavonic. The quaintness of a foreign language soon faded away and then became confusion. Lance took up the duty of reading the Epistle in English and I sang as best I could in the choir. Vigils were the most difficult because we could no longer understand the canons in English nor say the hymns well. The Saturday morning English Liturgy consisted of the priest, the two of us, and our friend Helena.

I was at my wits end by Bright Monday of that year for reasons that still don't make sense to me. I guess I didn't get feel at home like I did at St. Juliana's. I felt as if I had been staying too long with distant relatives who didn't understand why I had joined the family.

I didn't become Orthodox to become Russian. I do greatly appreciate cultural traditions that further illumine the Faith. However, to keep a tradition simply because it is Russian, or Greek, or Serbian, or whatever other culture one could throw in there, smacks of Nationalism that St. Paul addressed in his letters. He didn't approve of it and neither do I.

Lance and I ended up at the Monastery on Vashon a year after we moved to Seattle. It was ROCOR and services were in English. Lance was still in school and so the ferry rides were a nice break from studying. I sang in the choir and eventually directed only because I had a some knowledge about rubrics. The one draw back to the monastery was it was impossible to make it for Vigils and we really missed that element of church life.

Once ROCOR reunited with Moscow, we saw a way to broaden our church options. Lance occasionally needed to stay in town and would go to St. Spiridon's in Seattle. We didn't really like it there; it seemed too big and we like being a part of small communities. That and I am pretty sure this Romanian family thought I was Romanian. Even with a few years distance from the Russian social club that was St. Nicholas, I was uncomfortable being mistaken for any ethnicity other than Mexican (which I am).

A family, the Hunts, at the monastery had gone to St. Katherine's and spoke of it as a great community that they missed. Lance went to scout a Vigil. He came back a bit confused because the service wasn't the same. So I went with him next time and he was right -- parts were missing and some elements just plain odd, but it was pretty close.

We made a break for it sometime in 2007 or 2008. Father John and a few others took notice of us even though I tried to blend into the background. Father John blessed our home and met with us to find out how we could be involved in parish life. Lance was willing to help in the altar, which was welcome as Steve Stchur was looking to retire when Anna was born. I accidently left a tuning fork out so he knew I could sing. I told Father I wanted to lay low for awhile and I would rather not have information about my abilities widely known. I did offer to help with church school and did for a year.

Not a week later did Chris Hunt out me as a former choir director to Dan Homiak at the Kallistos Ware lecture and the gig was up. I didn't join the choir right away and eased myself into it. Singing helps me focus during the service. Now chasing after Nina does - sort of.

I most recently volunteered as Hospitality Shepherdess (baa) and am trying to take the role seriously but not too seriously. Lance and I both had parents who were active in their churches and we don't know any other way to belong to a church but to be involved in Parish life.

In short, I and my family are at St. Katherine's because it is the only English speaking, Liturgically conservative* parish around that is fairly small. Also, there are some really cool people that go there -- folks that think, contemplate, pray, and who are kind and generous.

If St. Katherine's undergoes some dramatic changes, we might contemplate another switch. For now, oddities in Liturgics aside, we love our church family and it is home.

*By the way, that is the only time I would ever see being conservative as a positive. Ever.

Baptism, Pt. 1

St. Katherine's is getting a new Priest in July and he asked us to write a "Spiritual Biography". He wanted to get a sense of the parish and how folks came to St. Katherine's.

Lance immediately said he did not want to do it. Apparently, he is not in a great place to talk about why he is at St. Katherine's.

So, I started to write a draft in my diary (which is over 10 years old and is not even half filled) and read it to Lance. We both found it funny and I thought I would share it on my blog.

I have been baptized three times.

The first I do not remember as I was a baby. My mother was Catholic when I was born and it was important to her that I be baptized. My father, apparently, raised no objections though he was Seventh-Day Adventist.

The second time I was baptized was when I was 10 or 11 years old. I do not recall the exact date, but somewhere in my mother's garage exists an embroidered handkerchief with the date. Obviously, I have lost track of it. I do remember the second baptism. I remember my father told me the parish council thought I was too young -- the SDA church typically baptizes at age 12. I remember talking to Pastor David Brass about my relationship with God. Pastor Brass is one of the nicest Pastors I knew and I will always think of him fondly. When he dunked me three times in the adult font at church, my feet rose to surface each time. My mother found this comical. I cannot quite recall who was there, but we must have had family because there was a pink iced "Congratulations" cake at the Top Gallant Court house in Houston. (We lived there while my Tio Jorge and Tia Lulu were in Kentucky -- it was their home.)

I grew up SDA and, besides an occasional Mass for a wedding or funeral on my mother's side, it was all I knew. My parents believed in God, we prayed at every meal (eaten at home or out), we attended every church service possible, and we carried our Bibles to church every Saturday. My parents were very involved in parish life -- my father on Parish Council, my mom helped with Sabbath School, and both lead the teen group until we moved to San Antonio.

No one knew my father's addiction to pornography or how I found it in second grade. So, when my father had an affair that lasted through my high school years, it came as a shock to our church community.

Dr. Flum, my OB, said once that the beginning of adolescence is when a child finally recognizes a parent's humanity -- his flaws and faults. I had my moment as a sophomore in high school and turned from God when I found out all that had happened in my parents marriage. If Christianity could not provide a stable home, I would find some other truth.

I became an atheist for the remainder of high school and when I turned 18 I no longer went to church with my parents. I volunteered at Planned Parenthood and at an event I discovered the Unitarian Church. I began to attend services and became obsessed with Transcendentalism. Having dispensed with Christianity and searching for truth, I had a natural home in the Unitarian Church.

Before my senior year, when I was 17, I traveled to Greece, Turkey, and Italy on a school trip. Outside the cave where St. John wrote the book of Revelation, I saw a young man wearing a St. John's College t-shirt. I could not believe my luck -- since Sophomore year of high school I was enamored with this college. I had read every piece of literature I could find and was determined to go there.

After being a complete nuisance and obnoxiously irreverent in the cave of St. John, I made a point of connecting with this guy. As it happened, he was Greek Orthodox. I didn't really care as my main goal was to know more about the college. Though he attended the Annapolis campus and I was interested in the Santa Fe Campus, I was so excited to meet someone and get a first hand account of what it was like. He painted an ideal picture for me and I made a point of going.

I went in October of 1997 to visit St. John's College and there in a Sophomore math class I saw the most gorgeous guy ever. He was quiet in his blue hooded sweatshirt, curly brown fro encircling his head like a halo and large glasses framing his green eyes. The Great Books Program plus the promise of cute boys was all I needed -- I applied, was accepted, and started in the fall of 1998.

About half way through Freshman year, I read Plato's dialogue "Timaeus" and began to think about God again. I had read parts of the Kabbalah before I started St. John's and decided that since Christianity had failed me, I would become Jewish. I talked to Jewish friends, attended Purim and Passover meals, and bought a menorah for Hanukkah. Still, it seemed like a majority of being Jewish was ethnicity and I didn't have that background. I wanted to be a part of some ancient tradition but was running up against a wall.

At the time I was dating a guy who converting to Catholicism -- the cute guy from the Sophomore math class was no where to be seen. I began to attend church with the Catholic Catechumen which was a huge step for me. Growing up SDA, I was warned about the Catholic Church. They worshiped idols. The Pope was just Satan in disguise. It was all very evil and suspicious and the Godfather was cited as a reference (or something written by Mario Puzo).

I actually found it quite nice. The hymns were pretty, it had an organized system for services, and I liked the religious art. The statues were a little disconcerting, as were the relics; I was beginning to like Christianity a little better though.

One day in Mass it struck me that Sunday was a celebrated day for all Christians as a commemoration of Christ's resurrection. I mentioned this to my boyfriend at the time and he replied "Um, YEH," in a rather incredulous tone.

I was, as they say, hooked after that. Many of the prayers and Saints were starting to make sense to me. I bought prayer cards of two saints -- St. Joan of Arc and St. Therese of Liseux (the little flower) -- and tried praying. I wanted God, Christ, tradition, ritual -- still something about Catholicism wasn't right. My boyfriend mentioned the "backwards cousins" to the Catholics: the Orthodox. It sounded intriguing to me.

In San Antonio I purchased a copy of The Orthodox Faith by Bishop Kallistos Ware. During Christmas break Sophomore year I began to go to Orthodox services. The biggest listing in the phone book was for Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church and I went to as many services as I could. I found a little envelope in the pews: check here for tithing, here for other gifts, check here if you are interested in learning more about the Orthodox Church. I checked the box, gave my mom's address, and read all the pamphlets they sent.

It sounded amazing, but I was going back to school and didn't know if there were any Orthodox churches in Santa Fe. I mentioned this to my boss at the time, Matt Johnston. Turned out he was a Catechumen at a local Orthodox church. It was Russian though. I hemmed and hawed about wanting to go, but I didn't want to commit. He said it was no problem, he would pick me up on Sunday. And so I went and never stopped going.

St. Juliana's Russian Orthodox Church was a ROCOR parish under Bishop Gabriel and served by Father Cyprian at the time. Father Cyprian, however, was moving back to Georgia and I would have to wait to be baptized. Still, before the summer, I was made a Catechumen. I could have chosen St. Genevieve for my patroness and kept my old name, Jennifer. But, I never really liked the name anyway. So, I chose "Juliana" because I wanted my children to know where our family became Orthodox. Not that I thought I would have children or get married -- but it like saying "when I win the Lotto" and never playing. It was just one of those things I thought.

I had been accepted to the Minority Medical Education Program in Chicago for the summer before Junior year and planned on working in Admissions half the time. I was in the office when I received a phone call from a mom frantically trying to get arrangements squared away for her son who was going to transfer from Annapolis to Santa Fe for his senior year. Parents were not supposed to call the 1-800 number, but I always disregarded this because I knew long distance rates were high.

After talking with the mom and getting the necessary information to transfer her call, I discovered her son was Phil Navarro, the guy I met outside the cave of St. John in Greece. We were both so excited to connect and she seemed really excited that I was Orthodox. "But I am in a Russian parish," I said. "Oh, it's all the same," she replied.

Matt Johnston had hired his friend Lance Kirmeyer to help out in admissions that summer. The odd thing about St. John's is you knew who everyone was even though you hadn't been introduced. Lance had said "Nice singing" to me in the cafeteria after a chamber choir concert I was in and made some sort of joke about me being bored at the front desk. And he knew my name though we hadn't met. Lance had a pretty sweet deal -- he worked Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I didn't really care for him and it didn't seem like he cared all that much for me.

When I came back from Chicago, it was a different story altogether. I had a traumatic experience in Chicago with folks being a little gruffer than I was used to in the South/Southwest and accommodations less than ideal. Add to that an adventure finding a ROCOR parish in Des Plains and going to a fairly hostile Greek church and it made for interesting stories to share with Lance while we were stuffing envelopes. Turned out he had taken a year off after Sophomore year to travel around the world and he shared his adventures with me. And I had broken up with my boyfriend. And he had kind of stopped seeing, or at least pursuing, some girls he was interested in pursuing. And he covertly asked me out, and we stayed up all night talking, and we just kept hanging out. Once evening, about 2 am, I realized he was the guy I saw when I visited St. John's as a prospective student. After a series of questions about where he was Sophomore year, it turned out he was the guy. The guy!

Now, I was becoming Orthodox and a new priest was on the way to St. Juliana's. And Lance was very interested in me and doing things very un-Orthodox even for a Catechumen. What was I do to?

To be continued...

St. Patrick's Day!

I love the color green. For as long as I can remember, it has been my favorite color. Perhaps because I loved Kermit the frog as a young child, perhaps because green is the color most associated with nature and life, I love it. The green buffalo grass in summer (in Texas), the quaking green of aspen leaves in the spring (in New Mexico), the green moss that grows in abundance in winter (in Washington), and my favorite dish of green beans and shallots at Thanksgiving -- green is just marvelous. I could also go on for years about the virtues of green chile, a substance I once abhorred and now crave beyond belief. I also happen to have a complexion that rocks most shades of green.

St. Patrick's Day is naturally a day where I don't have to worry about finding something to wear. I had a student once ask me if I liked green because I wore it every day. Ha! If she only had a look at my wardrobe, she would understand the extent of my green obsession.

Besides green being the official (Catholic) color of St. Patrick's Day, I also love this day because I love St. Patrick.

St. Patrick is dear to me not because he is my patron (St. Juliana of Lazarevo is) nor has he interceded for a miracle for me (that was St. Nicholas -- see this blog post), but I am just in awe of his life.

Captured and sold into slavery, he was able to escape only to have God tell him to go back and convert those who held him captive. Like most Apostles, or Equal-to-the-Apostles (St. Nina is a good example), St. Patrick listened to God which is quite unlike me. I am willful. I don't like talking to others about God or my faith -- it isn't shame, it is just that I get all defensive and am generally not good at it. I would NEVER make a good missionary. Yet, there are people out there that are AMAZING apostles and can convert whole countries. They inspire others to love God and teach them the truth!

Yet, I named my child after an Equal-to-the-Apostles for a good reason: even if it is not our talent to go forth and preach the Gospel, literally, to others, as a Christian we are held to a standard of preaching the Gospel figuratively through our actions. The two commandments Christ said were most important were to love God and love others. Loving others is not merely social justice, but also a turning of another's heart to God and His divine grace. However, shoving how wrong someone's lifestyle is in their face does not win many followers. Not blinking an eye to their choices and embracing them as a fellow man loved by God, I believe, is.

May St. Patrick pray for us and teach us all how to love each other more fully and so fulfill the law of God.

Koliva

My first attempt at making koliva was not so good. Lance was all excited when he saw me mixing it in the bowl and begged me to save a little for him when I came back from the Liturgy for the Departed.

I came back home with about 4 cups of koliva and that is a low estimation. While the koliva looked pretty, it was unbelievably crunchy due to the very undercooked wheat berries. I served Lance a cup of koliva and our conversation went something like this.

Lance: "I really have to chew this stuff."

Me: "I know; I needed to let the wheat berries cook longer."

(minutes later)

Lance: "My jaw is hurting from having to chew so much."

Me: "Then stop eating it!"

(I walk away in a huff)

I tried to re-constitute the koliva by adding hot water to it. Sadly, I forgot that when one heats sugar and water together, one makes simple syrup. The simple syrup then combines with the graham cracker crumbs to form a sort of honey gravy.

The result being slightly underdone wheat berries with lots of hot fruit and almonds in a honey gravy.

This morning, as Lance watched me eat my syrupy concoction, our conversation went something like this:

Lance: "How is it?"

Me: (I explained the chemistry of trying to revive the koliva)

Lance: "Hmmm...well I did like it."

Me: "No you didn't."

Lance: "Well, it was your first try!"

Me: "Which means you still didn't like it. Don't say you did when you didn't."

Lance: "I liked the way it tasted."

Me: "If that is the only thing you liked, then you didn't like it."

Lance: (opens mouth)

Me: "Just drop it -- let's talk about something else."

I guess some koliva is better than none at all.

Let Us Begin the Fast with JOY!

The few weeks proceeding Lent, Lance and I sit down and discuss what our "rules" will be for the fast. In the past few years certain practices were a given: no meat or dairy, no sex, Prayer of St. Ephraim, and go to every service possible.

Over the years I have added to the list: no eating out, no movies, no TV, no shopping for random stuff, no desserts, no processed foods (except bread and crackers -- Lance also makes an exemption for chips), etc. We try to serve the needy in some way. We try to be kinder to each other.

Last year, Lent presented a new difficulty since I was pregnant. I didn't have to fast from food, prostrations were tricky because my knee decided to give out on me after 2 months, and I had to be on my computer for school.

This year I am breastfeeding, so the traditional Lenten fast is not a possibility. Upon reflection, I have realized that I have not kept normal fast practices for over a year! That is crazy!

I actually enjoy fasting because: 1) I am not a big on cooking meat; if some one else cooks it for me, I can manage, 2) I believe a vegan lifestyle helps preserve our little planet*; God created it for us and we ought to take REALLY good care of it, 3) fasting helps keep one disciplined; if I can stay away from cheese for 40 days, I ought to be able to love others by not getting angry, impatient, or annoyed with them.

Without a "food- based" fast, I find it more difficult for me to abstain from other things. So, I really had to examine my lifestyle to determine how I should enter Lent with joy and not with dragging feet.

I plan to post pictures to facebook because my family and friends in far off places in the world are loving Nina's pictures. I would really like to use Lent to find ways to keep in touch with folks, and facebook helps me do that to some extent.

I do want to blog because I would go insane otherwise. I need to take care of myself and blogging definitely helps keep my mind shaper. Singing "Where is Thumpkin?" 12 times daily does not have the same affect blogging does.

I also want to be more active. I had heard of a plan to do "40 for 40" where one exerts oneself 40 minutes daily for the whole fast. Exertion can include walks, jogs, dancing, etc. -- the point is to keep moving!

Also, I have to cut out the TV. Ever since we got cable, I tend to watch too much while breastfeeding Nina. With all the Buffy and ANTM marathons, it is very easy to just sit on the couch and not attend to the necessary things in life.

Though we plan not to let Nina watch TV until she is two, I know she is listening when the TV is on and I don't want her absorbing too much of the insanity that is modern television. If she gets influenced by Iron Chef America, that might not be a bad thing...no, no, I will only watch three programs a week and that will be the only time the TV will be used.

I have other practices that I plan to keep, but I want to practice them in secret. The only other person who knows what I will do is Lance because it is important to communicate with your spouse what you will do during the fast. As your souls are united, it is important to help bear the other's burdens.

I always have to keep in mind St. John Chrysostom's homily for Pascha "for those who have fasted, and those who have not, the table is full laden!". Above all these fasting rules, it is more important for me to cultivate a loving heart and a soul that longs for God.

* When Lance and I went to Maui for our honeymoon, we frequented a totally vegan grocery store called "Down to Earth". After a few visits, I realized their bags had vegan statistics printed on them. One of the stats said that if everyone ate a vegan diet for just half the year, we would save TONS of the earth's resources. I found it really cool since the Orthodox practice of fasting has one keep a mostly vegan diet for half the year!

The 40th Day

I grew up Seventh-Day Adventist (SDA) which means my family went to church on Saturday, I didn't eat pork (and was encouraged to be vegetarian), I didn't wear make-up or jewelry, I didn't read novels or play with occult themes (no ghosts, Ouija boards, witches, etc.), and I was not to listen to secular music, watch movies, or dance. Oh, and no caffeine.

Of course, as with any religion, I did just about all of these with or without the aid of my family. My father and mother love movies and dancing, so I saw LOTS of movies and danced all the time. We are also big coffee drinkers, though now I prefer a soy chai latte. I think my mother had a problem with her daughter knowing the lyrics of some questionable songs, so she began to listen to Christian (read "protestant") radio stations. I listened to some of the music, but I was far more into U2 and eventually jazz and classical music. I was a vegetarian by choice and don't really eat that much pork -- though, sausage is often my downfall. I still to this day do not wear make-up often, which Lance appreciates as he has been scared of clowns, Santa Claus, etc. since he was young. In fact, he still is a bit weary of women who wear to much make up -- as if they have something to hide. I love jewelry though! I got my ears pierced when I was 18. I remember my father was aghast. He said "what else did you get pierced???". An ear is hardly a bellybutton, a nose, or some other part of the anatomy that could be pierced.

Obviously, I have not remained Seventh-Day Adventist. As soon as I turned 18, I started going to a Unitarian church on Sunday mornings and started reading the Torah in an attempt to become Jewish. Then, finally, I found a spiritual home in Orthodox Christianity and converted. Or so I thought.

My grandfather passed away 40 days ago. He was an interesting man. He was born in Mexico, married my grandmother after flirting with her at his mother's funeral, and moved here reluctantly after a hurricane hit Tampico and destroyed the family's livelihood. He always wanted to go back to Mexico, and I am sure the Republican party that he supported would have been more than happy to send him back. I still remember him saying "Viva Bush!!!" (though it sounded more like "Viva Booo-shhh!!!"). He was a drinker and smoker and a womanizer -- all of which lead to the abuse of his family, his body, and, later, depression. He was injured as a roofer and could no longer make a good wage and his family had to rely on charity, which I believe angered him. He took it out on them -- though in good times, I suspect, he was quite kind.

He loved his family though, and in time chose them instead of all the pleasures the world can offer. He developed diabetes, and ignored it. He cursed during soccer games, and I repeated the words (which I got in trouble for doing). He was raised Catholic and did not like the SDA church that my grandmother attended. Later in life, when diabetes claimed two toes and when it began to fuse vertebrae, he chose to be baptized in the SDA church and try to turn his life toward the good.

He was always kind to me, smiled when he saw me, and inquired as to how I was doing or what I was studying. When I went to Greece, Italy, and Turkey and asked what he wanted me to bring him back, he requested a little dirt from each place. So, on my trip, I collected a little earth from each place: Rhodes, Ephesus, and Pompeii. I put them in little glass jars and decorated them with the names of the places (per my mother's instruction). He liked those little jars and all of the other little things he received as gifts from me: a wooden duck and a set of matrushkas. I understand now where my love of tiny objects of delight come from as well as a love of travel -- and a fiery temper and great sense of style (he always had cool hats).

In the back of my mind, I knew he would be my first grandparent to die. He was not in the best of health and he was so very weak. I used think I would be able to emotionally handle his repose and I would be able to sing at his funeral. When the time came, when I heard of his death, I was shaken to my core. There are people that you think will always be here and then they are not. It is not as if I have never experienced the death of someone I loved, but a grandparent is just that strong foundation into one's past and it is difficult to see it washed away by waves of time. You know it will happen, but when the tide comes in and they are taken, it hurts beyond measure.

It was difficult to see his body, cold and not smiling. I was reminded of when my great-grandfather passed away and there was no jolly countenance -- the familiar "hey hey" he would say when he saw you. It is in that moment of seeing the body without soul you realize they are truly no more on this earth.

I thought I had fully converted to Orthodoxy until I realized I still do not understand how the church views death. I would hear all of the SDA pastors and family members say "he is sleeping", but he isn't. The SDA teaches death as a sort of "coma" -- the soul does not leave the body, but hangs out in hibernation until the coming of Christ. I grew up with this teaching and when I compare it with what the Orthodox church says, there is overlap, but they do not agree.

I do believe what Orthodox theologians tell me: the soul departs from the body and therefore it is important that we pray for our loved ones so their souls can be at ease.

The SDA church has a difficulty with this teaching. I am not sure where their idea of the soul still resides in the body comes from, as it is obviously not biblically based (see Christ's Gospel teaching about Lazarus and rich man). Having grown up with this idea my whole life, I was always skeptical about ghosts and after-life experiences as well as the Catholic teachings on purgatory.

As an Orthodox Christian, I understand that it is important to bury after three days and on the ninth day one should also pray because the soul faces judgment before God and is then assigned a place either with God or without God. Obviously, to be with God would be preferable as the human soul is designed to reside with It. However, if one has not in her time on earth loved God or sought after Him, it is more difficult for the soul to chose to reside with God or for God to chose the soul to reside with It. (I use "Him" and "It" interchangeably as a pronoun for God, as God truly has no gender, but on earth He was manifest as God and male MAN, so "He" is also an appropriate pronoun).

Still, I am confused. I am not sure where the third, ninth, and fortieth day traditions come from or how the church fathers can verify all of the teachings on death. My ultimate confusion comes from this question: where is the soul of Grandfather right now? Is it ok? I have prayed on the ninth day for him and will pray today that he is where the just repose. But is he there? Or where is he? Is he suffering? I am so confused and terrorized by these thoughts. Of course I also selfishly think: what will happen when I die? And will my listening to Amy Winehouse somehow take me away from God? Or is there something more to eternal salvation?

I hope in order to reside with God I need to follow God's two big commandments: love Him and love everyone too. I think if I truly loved God, it will be easier and less confusing for me to love everyone else. I always have to remind myself that God loves everyone -- without exception. The itinerant who harasses me in the grocery store, the woman talking on her cellphone while driving, the flamboyant trannie on Capital Hill (with AMAZING shoes) -- God loves each of them and I love them too.

I have been trying to get through Father Seraphim Rose's book "The Soul after Death", but it is a weighty read after a day of caring for Nina. Besides, it is not something I wanted to read before going in for gallbladder surgery. My goal was to finish the book before the fortieth day, but alas, that has not happened. Instead, I will say the Cannon for the Dead for my Grandfather and continue to read about what happens to our souls when we die.

I often recall the "wager" from Pascal's "Le Pensees" -- we gamble when we believe in God. We can risk giving up eternal peace for earthly things or risk pleasures for nothing at all. I don't believe that there is nothing after death; all of the love I feel must mean something is there and I hope I can experience a greater love with God when my time comes. I will continue to pray for those who have departed before me because I love them, because I have hope that I will be able to meet them again in some far better way than I experienced them on earth, and we will all be at peace and love with God.

Church Fashion!

Curtesy of David - a link to fashionable churchnik gear.

http://12praz.ru/pages/about/release2.html

Prayer Works...?

Ok, so Monday was a normal day at work...until lunch.

My boss dropped the bombshell that after 25 years, she is leaving the school.

:|

The above is the expression I had to hold all day, 'cause internally I was thinking

:D


or :DDDDDD


It is true that the devil you do know is better than the one you don't (but how is there two devils I ask you?), but I am SO glad change is not only coming to the country but to my school as well!

:DDDDD

I am seriously happy for her - I think the school is way to big for her and, being a mirco-manager, a smaller school will be better.

But why then did she build up the school to be so large?

:|

Whatever, at least I know next year will be TOTALLY different -- whether I am hired at the all-girls school or end up staying where I am.

I feel very blessed.

Of course I don't know if my job will be PT or FT next year...but is spring break and HOLY WEEK so I can't be bothered to think of that now.

Will post pysanky pics soon - since I now have a lot of time on my hands...

..except for that pesky educational philosophy paper I need to write and my goals.

St. Juliana Gets MAJOR PROPS!

YOOOO!!!!!!!

Check it out!!! My Patroness is featured in a new National Geographic article:

This article is da' bomb!


Thank you to Irene for the heads up!

Um - Hi.

Wow - it has been FOREVER since I last posted.

I have been busy, what with:

-teaching 6 classes
-taking a professional certification class
-being married
-it being Lent and all the services that entails
-my procrastinating

Seriously, I just finished grading some assignments that were turned in at the end of January.

So I decided a brief post was necessary.

And I was tired of seeing references to male anatomy on my blog.

So, hi - I am alive and REALLY busy!

And add to my list:
-teaching pysanky class

I will post pictures soon -- soon being sometime in July.

Well, hopefully not.

I am most sincerely M.A.D., a.k.a. reproductive rights

So after church (December 7th - aka the day most of the OCA in the Puget Sound area invaded St. K's), the hubbster and I get in the car and he immediately says to me:

"You need to stop giving such...thorough answers to questions."

Me: "ok"

LG: "you don't need to go into such detail."

Me: "ok!"

We had been talking to a gentleman of Brier, WA at the agape meal about: 1)if LG and I are related, 2) if we are the same ethnicity, 3) how long have we been married, 4) if we are planning on having children, 5) birth control, 6) how I don't want children because I teach all day, 7) how children perceive themselves in the world, and 8) how God's plans and our plans intersect and interact with one another.

Seriously - in that order!

I steadfastly exclaim that I do NOT want children in anyway shape or form right now. I am not the "Babies for Jesus" type of woman (you know, has six children and is hoping for number 7 any day now...).

I am more of the the "I need more time to explore myself and buy more shoes type of person."

I am selfish. And I am not afraid to say it.

Babies are a lot of work. They cry. They spit up all over your favorite clothes and consume a vast quantity of your budget. They *ruin* your body if: 1) you are a woman, 2) are a tiny woman who gains a lot of fat just on her own, much less eating for two, and 3) if you are woman whose skin does not stretch particularly well. (so, me basically)

For these reasons, I do not want children. They are not a priority right now - for me.

AND I DON'T CARE!

Yes, I married young. Yes, I like kids, which is why I teach (they are annoying and yet, entertaining - especially when they go home). Yes, I want to have LG's offspring because he has some excellent DNA that needs propagating.

But it doesn't mean that I need to have babies so soon.

Shoot - LG and I still *play*.

For example:

*In Whole Foods looking at baguettes*
LG: "Do you think you could joust with a baguette and break someones arm?"
Me: "Maybe..."
LG: :D "Want to try?"
Me: "Um, we are in a store..."
LG: "Come on..."
*I make a beeline to the check out counter*

Ok, maybe that is not totally how the conversation went, but do you really want me, who contemplated jousting with baguettes in a grocery store, to be a mom?

Don't answer that...

It just seems to me that *some* people out there - Orthodox or not - seem to think that having children by my age should be a priority.

In fact a fair number of people seem gung-ho on the idea.

Me: "meh"

Plus...there is the whole cancer thing.

I only have one boob, which means: 1) breast feeding = not fun, 2) cancer could come back to that boob, and 3) I will totally be lopsided after pregnancy.

I did not explain the cancer thing to the gentleman of Brier, but I was about ready to throw that in since I was being grilled. I need to learn to drink my tea fast and exclaim "oh, this needs refreshing" and sneak away.

So, in conclusion, until I become a little less selfish and vain, I am not ready for the whole kid thing.

But I have put myself on a five year plan...within five years if I get pregnant, than it is God's will.

If not, clearly God agrees that I have some growing up to do.

And that I should buy some more shoes. Or books. Or yarn!

Till then: peeps, friends, *relatives*...

BACK OFF!!!

Gettin' Lucky

I went to Half Price books in search of some Neil Gaiman to read.  I unfortunately did not find what I was looking for, but I browsed the clearance section like my friend Kate who always finds good books there.

As my eyes scanned the many titles, I came across The Lucky Shopping Manual.  Those of you who know me very well would say that I don't need a shopping manual and would probably be better with a book titled The How Not to Shop All the Time Manual.  But I had perused the the Lucky Manual on a trip to Powell's and thought it well done in terms of accessibility and advice. However, at Powell's it was $30 and at HP it was $2.  So I picked up the Lucky book with the slightly crooked spine (probably from being shoved in a purse) and set out to read it.

I agree with most of the chapters.  There are a few exceptions that I don't think account for Orthodox Christians.  We wear a lot of skirts and the authors write that the best hem for a skirt hits at the mid-knee.  "With the top taper of the calf revealed, legs look longer and shapelier; the total effect is cool instead of frumpy."

When one is visiting a monastery, it hardly matters how your legs look -- they should be covered up!

And, on how to wear a long skirt (a snippet I read with interest),  the advice is "a long skirt should just almost touch the floor."

Um, these ladies have obviously not done a lot of prostrations.

When prostrating in long skirts, women often stumble from stepping on the hem (or get trapped in the skirt like I tend to do).  A gal at church did this odd skirt flipping thing on Holy Friday to avoid the predicament of the prostration with skirt that nearly touches the floor.

Also, in summertime, a church can get really hot really fast.  You don't want the skirt to nearly touch the floor because you need a little circulation to stay cool.

However, the snippet on long skirts did advise that drapey long skirts should have a fitted hip, which is true (except you don't wear drapey skirts with fitted hips to monasteries).  Also, "Don't wear heels with long skirts unless it's for evening.  For daytime, stick with refined pointy or plain-toe flats that just peek out the front of the skirt."  Some solid advice there.

And, overall, they write that A-Line skirts work for everyone and long skirts hide thick legs.  

But they write that long  skirts make one look taller.  I disagree.  No long skirt I have ever worn has made me look taller.

Then again, I don't wear my long skirts the way they advise, so that might be my problem.

At the end of each chapter, there is a guide for building closet.  So for a skirt closet the advice is:

2 all-season work skirts  (tropical wool especially)

1 day-to-night skirt (that one can "dress up or down")

2 summer work skirts (skirts that are "crisp and structured")

1 denim skirt

2 summer weekend skirts (again, that you can "dress up or down")

And if you never wear pants: add a summer evening skirt...a winter evening skirt...a leather or suede skirt

Well, so far I have a TON of summer work and weekend skirts, a denim skirt, and a few winter evening skirts.

I have yet to obtain work all-season work skirts or a day-to-night skirt.  Having recently used the guide to clear my wardrobe, I find that I don't think much about skirts at work.  I think a lot about skirts at church because I wear a skirt at church ALL THE TIME (well, except choir practice).

As I cleared out my wardrobe, I had to re-organize the advice of the Lucky book and figure out how to build an Orthodox skirt closet.

I would give the following advice:

First, a good length for a church skirt is one that covers your knees standing and sitting.  One hot summer day I thought I would wear my breeziest and lightest skirt which hit an inch above the knee.  I only realized my mistake when we arrived at church.  I spent the whole service tugging at my skirt and feeling as naked as Eve.

Also, make sure the skirt has some room in the hips and the rear.  I have a lot of "junk in the trunk" ("baby's got back", whatever implies that I have a well endowed butt), therefore I must be very careful in my skirt selection.  You don't want the skirt to be too drapey so that you look ready for a toga party (or like you are playing "dress up"), but you also don't want to be a distraction.  Just make sure your front pelvic bone is not poking through front and there is no bunching in the back.

Another piece of advice:  if you do have a big booty like me, then you will want to avoid skirts with pleats or gathering at the waist.  I was working on eliminating my skirts and noticed I looked an awful lot like an extra from Gone with the Wind and I couldn't put my finger on why. Finally I realized that the pleats and gathering at the waist plus my massive tosh give the impression of a crinoline.  Circle skirts work well as do skirts with pleating further down the hips.  Skirts that have one big pleat in front do not work because the pleat does not balance with what is going on in back.  But pleats at the waist, if you have a butt like I do, do not flatter AT ALL.

This next piece of a advice comes via The Pumpkin King -- don't wear a skirt to church that has a large slit in the back because you never know when you will have to do a prostration. And, if you know you will have to do prostrations (Forgiveness Vespers, Holy Friday, Elevation of the Cross, etc.) check your skirt for modesty.  In fact, during Lent, I do a skirt check with my husband.  We call it the "Prostration Check" -- does anything show or look immodest when I do a prostration?  It is highly useful to have someone check for you (or look in a mirror).

Also, a long skirt and a turtleneck is a NO.  I never realized it before, but it does make one look stumpy.  Unless you are fulfilling some sort of penance or visiting a monastery, wear layers or a scarf to keep warm in a drafty church.  Also, if I wear a scarf around my neck, I wear a short headscarf or a hat.  Otherwise you look like a turtle. 

So, for building a CHURCH SKIRT closet you are totally covered if you have...

1 all season skirt (I would go with a tropical wool in camel or Carmel)

1 winter skirt (I would again go for wool and advise a long length -- church can be drafty. Charcoal grey is a nice color for winter)

1 bright season skirt (something light colored and light weight -- I have several in greens and blues)

1 denim skirt (great for Vespers)

1 skirt for Pascha (white would be best, but something really colorful would work too so you can mix and match tops every year.  I would also make this skirt mid-length with a lining.  It is often cold during the Pascha procession, so you'll want to keep warm, but it can be hot in a crowed church, so layering is essential)

1 skirt for a Monastery Pilgrimage (one long dark skirt that is not tight anywhere -- all season material is best)

If you want to add more...a nice skirt for Pentecost (in green), a nice skirt for Nativity (warm, but bright in color), a skirt for Holy Friday or Saturday (a skirt that is dark and nice for the funeral of the Lord).

So...all you Orthodox ladies out there...am I forgetting anything?  I mean, this is the BARE ESSENTIALS.  Overtime, I would add more summer skirts.  I get more crossover in my wardrobe from my summer skirts for church than my winter skirts for church.

While it may seem base and vain to think of such matters as church skirts (and perhaps it is),   my mother taught me that you should always dress with respect and reverence for church -- wearing the proper things for the occasion.   Orthodox Christianity calls on all of your five senses for worship and to me one of those senses is clothes (or fashion sense...ha ha!).  

Seriously though, I feel a certain way when I wear certain clothes.  When I go to church to join with the world in praising God and seeking union through the sacraments, I want to go in my "wedding garment", my best and most appropriate clothing.  If I were inappropriately dressed, I would feel worse  -- that I have not the wherewithal to get properly dressed to stand before God.  In Haiti, some of the Christians do not go to church because they have no clothes.  While I am not in extreme poverty, I understand that feeling.  And I don't judge others by what they are wearing because I feel one must always assume the best -- what one wears to church is the best of their wardrobe.

It is the "robe of my soul" that needs to shine.  If I wear my best, it is effort to show a fear of God, to try for a true wedding garment -- a garment for my soul that will be worthy before Him.