Christmas Letter 2011

"Release the tension in your shoulders.  Now in your back . . . "  At the end of each of our pregnancy classes the teacher leads the class of six couples through a relaxation series that always leaves me feeling refreshed and a little like my legs are full of Jell-O (in a good way).  Last week at our class I was just starting to feel relaxed when I heard it.  It was getting slower . . . and deeper . . . and louder.  Ralph's breathing was starting to sound like it does each night just before he goes to sleep.  I felt the sense of panic begin to rise in my previously calm body as I realized what was about to happen.  I decided to squint through my right eye to see if the other couples in the class were noticing.  None seemed to catch on until his breathing went from loud and breathy to an all-out snore.  The peacefulness of the dark room was gone for good, as I got the worst case of church giggles in my life.

Gosh, I love being married. :)

Yes, Ralphie and I are expecting a little bundle of Wusk joy toward the end of March.  We're hoping it has Ralph's charisma and my study habits.  Each time the baby kicks, Ralph takes it as evidence of its impending athleticism.  I guess we'll just have to see.  The little one will grow up as a Sterling Jet as we just moved to the booming metropolis in August.  It is a bit ironic as Ralph and my relationship started with me talking extreme smack about his small hometown . . . I guess maybe there was more flirting going on there than any real hard feelings.

Life Lessons Learned in the "Real World" Vol. 6

·      All pants should have elastic waistbands. (I might just wear these pregnancy jeans for the rest of my life.)

·      It doesn't take long to accumulate way too much stuff. (Thanks to everyone who helped us move all our junk!)

·      The best dissertation is a done dissertation.

·      Living in a small town IS all it's cracked up to be.

·      Making sauerkraut isn't as tough as you might think.  (Thanks to my in-laws and their good teaching!)

·      Gas is expensive.  (Ralph is commuting to the Department of Veterans Affairs in Lincoln, and I'm cruising east to work at Peru State College while still helping out with confirmation classes on Wednesday nights in Lincoln).

·      Seeing the Harry Potter movie at a midnight showing is exhausting.  (Thanks to my sister for reminding me that I'm not too old to stay up late).

·      With a FULL beard and long hair Ralph resembles Joaquin Phoenix during the time period when everyone thought he was going crazy.

·      The waiting time before a baby is full of joy and excitement.

I can always tell Christmas is here as Ralph starts talking about the end of his Fantasy Football League.  How does he always make it into those championships?  Yes, 2011 has been a year of changes, and like every year, we're continuing to learn.  While this year had many turns that we didn't anticipate, I have a feeling that next year might have even more to teach us. 

new house. new job. new pant size.

new house

White siding. Just old enough.
It is just
what I wanted
all these years
quiet
old yet and new
friendly somehow
with a gathering curve out front
I sit here in the living room
six windows play frame to
the art of yellow leaves changing.
I wonder at the life
unfolding here
all the leaf changes to come
and snows to fall
and knees to scrape
and Christmas giggles at a present gone
so right
or so wrong.
I will look back
at this kitchen, dining room, sun room
and life overflowing, busting the edges
with people and things we did
and laughs we shared
and messes we made
Now it starts
just walls, just rooms, just stuff.
I'm sitting in a blank canvas
and the paints will come fast and furious
Lord, help me stop and smell the brush strokes.

new job

I bought a lime green lamp.
Somehow that one thing gave me vision.
For the new office of
professor Wusk, not quite yet.
Three classes this fall
three this spring
new faces
new meetings
And I can talk about this from my gut
I fit in the classroom
back home somehow
I shift weight though
in the meetings
wondering how I fit
here in a candyland of words and spinning wheels
yet
thankful for a flexibility
that allows my hope and wondering thoughts
I know this will be my job
the longest job I've ever had
While I've been there awhile, It's like I've only
just put my toe into the waistband of a new pair of jeans.
I wonder at the fit still.
I know this will feel different in a bit.
But for now at least, I like the color, the fade
in this, my place of work.

new pant size

It was only last week when the first
stranger asked if I was expecting.
Yes
I am. Delighted.
Thank you
For noticing.
Anticipation stacked on anticipation
this normal thing
not seeming so normal
when it's your insides
squirming through
these months of changes
uncomfortable and yet more comfortable than ever
the one thing I've always known
myself to want
And yet I wonder, Why?
But when I remember myself--with all my thoughts and foibles--
my beginnings just this way
I can't imagine an excitement
more intense in hue
than this waiting
and wondering
at the slow change that will be the change
from all I've heard.
I want to meet him or her.
And I will never, even for a second, think/feel/know
the immensity of this.
As we walk through it like it's normal
buying a crib
playing the easy escape
owning simply a consumer role
and sometimes for entire days
forgetting just how close we are
to gravity changing.

my mother's face

My mother's face

That simple line

conjures an image packed with tears

and with a fragrance

that stirs my soul

My mother's face

has looked upon me

with fat cheeks and giggles

and said this is my daughter

My mother's face

has sweat, as she wipes her brow

pausing after trudging the tiller through

old-rusty-green-with-missing-paint-speckled tiller

busting through the hard caked mud of the garden

My mother's face

has filled with the angst of a life that had to be

and the joy she wanted to be

in a place that had to be

A place somehow not her home

yet. . . then.

My mother's face

has been

closed tight in prayer

over me

my life

my problems not her own

but somehow hers too

My mother's face

carries wrinkles now

that it never did before

My mother's face mirrors my own

and yet somehow mirrors God's

shines glory out

more than any face I've known.

not mine

my decision

made

a person

and yet

not me wholly

but in part

I see a little man

two and a half

a middle name we planned

realize he wouldn't have been

necessarily

if I moved somehow different. . .

shaking hands

would not have been

if I moved somehow. . .

lost job

would not have been

if I moved. . .

lukemia

would not have been

if I. .

or rather, if I didn't

what if

all were mine?

my son, my patient

my lost job

my loneliness

my prayers

way leads on to way

so

how do I pray?

he's his

a person, on accident?

not quite, I know

but wonder

my decision made

a person

and he's sick today

so I forget how sick this makes me

and pray

for what's not mine

monday after mountaintop

Last week I went on my first-ever mission trip. I don't know what I expected, and even now I'm not sure what happened. But there was movement, and I am sure of one thing; it was good. It was good to get away with kids, it was good to live in community for a week again, it was good to serve.

As I sit at my keyboard on this Monday, everything seems dingy somehow, and yet it is good to be back to the day to day.

This trip was a transition point in my life. Pastor Greg quipped, "Somehow, you'll get on the bus as the leader, and you'll get off the bus she will be the leader." Amy is the new youth director who is just here from Indiana. I have been praying for her since January, not always knowing who she is, but simply knowing that she was needed. I don't know if I thought the transition would be hard or easy, especially since a large part of me didn't really want to leave, but at this point it just is, and God is in the feeling I have when I see her responding to kids' posts on Facebook, or laughing with kids. God is in the comfort I feel in her strong leadership and desire to engage these kids. This is just what I wanted, and yet somehow it feels empty right now. I knew this would come, and God is in that emptiness, and I am glad for the year, glad at the changes in me, glad at the changes in my marriage.

My joy seems somehow more concrete. I can't help thinking that I'm ready for something, but I'm not quite sure what. I just presented at a spirituality conference this Saturday, and I learned things there that I haven't really thought about. Perhaps this is my new frontier in spirituality, one that goes outside the bricks and mortar church to a different kind of temple. Perhaps this will be my walking stick that helps me stand through the throws of going back to "secular" work. Scared and excited all at once, I am in a time of waiting and wondering--a good time for writing dissertation and breathing a little more slowly.

God has provided friends this year, friends that I didn't have before, but who are shaping my identity in new ways. Ashleigh Lang-Peterson, Amy Wagner, Kelly Kingsley, Sara Spohr--all probably don't know the impact they have had on my tiny life.

I am thankful for seasons, and thankful for the small tears that form whenever change comes and we sit around watching slide shows with sappy music. When we look back just briefly before taking that next step. There were multiple times on this trip where I seemed to be sitting in a pool of grace, when answers to prayers were so obvious that I couldn't do anything but dwell in the movement of the spirit. I sat at a concert with two young women and laughed. These two have been a struggle for me all year, and there we were giggling. In our final prayer circle Thursday night, we "dapped," which is a form of prayer (I think made up in our own youth group) where you place one fist on top of the person's fist next to you in a circle. When the prayer gets to you, you can pray aloud or dap by tapping the fist on your right to move it on to the next person. Typically, my out-loud prayers are prolific, and I never pass up a chance to contribute. For the first time I can remember, I dapped after hearing the harmony of prayers from my kids and their new youth director. It was good to be there and good to not be needed somehow.

Following our prayer, I didn't stay up for late night conversations, I skirted back to my room. Light from the round full moon streamed over me as I lay back on my almost empty air mattress. Usually Psalm 23 is the stuff of funerals, but as my fingers turned the gold-edged pages to this comforting "home" in the Bible, I couldn't help knowing that I was not alone, and that change is good, and that some things never change.

Psalm 23

A psalm of David.

¹ The Lord is my shepherd;
I have all that I need.
² He lets me rest in green meadows;
he leads me beside peaceful streams.
³ He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
bringing honor to his name.
⁴ Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,^[a]
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
protect and comfort me.
⁵ You prepare a feast for me
in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
⁶ Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever.

drowning out gray

"To love someone is to show to them their beauty, their worth and their importance." — Jean Vanier

Your Beauty

The sway of the longest arms, under shirt sleeves rolled up, athletic, tall, yet turned in to everyone he meets, with blue, the friendliest eyes I know - all such a blessing. I love you for inside, but I'm the outside called to me (and calls to me) so loudly, like a magnet. I see you.

Your Worth

Your value is in being Ralph - a man who holds family and friends so heavy, but lifts them up, a man not afraid to just have fun, a man who lights up the people around him, who works at his work with pride and diligence. A man. To me the most valuable of God's creations, the most precious.

Your Importance

I see you, and you were the first to truly see me. Blessing bowls me over, and I am thankful you picked me, even noticed me, that you walk with me. Without you babe it's all gray.

Your Ev

day 2 at the cup

I am here again, this time ready with a cinnamon roll. May God bless the writing that comes today. Amen.