church.

I put on my sweater dress and Frye boots

filled my travel mug with coffee and a generous pour of heavy whipping cream

bundled my baby

and slammed the car door shut, 10 minutes later than Jonny wanted to leave.

The first Sunday–our foray into finding a new church family.

And I sat in the pew with a smirk in my heart.

What’s my deal?

I keep wondering, wondering…

“Why do I go to church?” 

The sermons.

“But I can watch Driscoll or Chandler on my laptop, in my own comfy bed.”

OK, the community.

“I’m social. I can just make nice friends.”

But there’s a deeper level of commitment within a church body. There’s the week-by-week structure, the mercy meals, the Bible studies…

(By the way…if church is all about knowing and being known…how does that work in a small town, where you don’t want to tell the wrong person the wrong thing? Not that I need to be all, ‘My name is Charlie and these are my problems’, but I want to be real with people. How does that work? How can I trust?)

I blame church for making me a dumb sheep in my late teens and early twenties. In my heart, I wish I’d just sinned with relish and vigor instead of following a set of beliefs I didn’t fully embrace. I’d rather have been MYSELF.

(But I know that’s ridiculous. Being a dumb sheep kept me safe, and it’s my own fault I was dumb, not the church’s.)

I don’t want to take stands on things, such as gay marriage, etc. It makes me feel like a jerk.

I associate church with Victorianism (just google the criticism to Mark Driscoll’s new book on marriage…)

And…I don’t really feel like writing about it anymore. In some ways, I feel like I’m just beating the church when it’s down–demanding it to be something it simply can’t.

Bottom line:

I HAVE A BABY AND I NEED TO FIGURE MY STUFF OUT.

If only we could follow Lucy’s example and poop our pants loudly, right when the pastor starts to pray and it’s quiet…metaphorically speaking.

No facade there.

Wish me luck in the search…

my little weekend project

before…

…after!!

i also made this ice cream. i’ve had it bookmarked forever, and had some homemade brownies to use up…and it’s already gone, ooops!!

4 months

she is doing everything a baby her age should be doing

(though we still haven’t seen her roll over…she only does it in her crib at night when we’re sleeping!)

 she likes me waaay better than her daddy.

 i call her “goosie” and “goobie” and “bubby” and “little boobie” (sorry lucy) and lots of other things i’m too embarrassed to admit.

i can’t believe that i’m already starting to research first foods (though we’re in no hurry to stop EBF…when she can sit up we’ll start to think about it.)

she had her first teeny-tiny haircut last week.

she spits up quite a bit, but isn’t fussy unless it’s between 5:00 and 8:00p.m.

she sleeps from 8:00p.m. to 5:30-6:00a.m., then sleeps in bed with me until 8:00 or 9:00. (i live this one-kiddo life to the fullest!)

this morning she locked her little knees and “stood” on my stomach, wearing only her clothie and wool cover while we laid in bed.

her face happy and milky,

her m&m eyes,

her tummy full,

fat arms…

like her daddy always says when he looks at her, “ahhh i can’t stand it!!”