dear emma

I remember in rare detail the day that you were born. I had silvery blue fingernail polish on my nails, I was getting excited to go (that same week) on my first date with a boy I had a crush on (Uncle Ryan), and on that Sunday, I was playing in a Youth Symphony Concert at Muskegon High School. As I played the concert, I knew that your Mom was in labor, and I just couldn't wait to leave with Aunt Andrea...to get to Clare, MI to hold you!

You made me an aunt, and I couldn't believe how that new role changed me.
I've said this before...but I loved you so fiercely that I sometimes worried that I'd never be able to love my own children as much. I couldn't imagine feeling so protective, so uniquely awed by a child ever again.
But then of course, Jaelyn, Liam, Addison, Willow, Ginger, Isaac, Will came along and I started to see that there wasn't a 'limit' to my love. It only grew deeper and fiercer for all of you (though I was still completely unprepared for the overwhelming love I would feel as a Mother.)

It seems impossible that so many years have passed since you were first learning to swim in Go-Go & Bampa's pool, or trying to find the courage just to jump into the pool, or refusing to eat one tiny carrot, or dancing to the Veggie Tales:'Oh No What we Gonna Do?' song, or attempting to play my big violin (when it was almost as big as you). And it seems similarly impossible that you now...fearlessly (and successfully!) run towards a vault, flip, balance, jump gracefully, that you are so 'grown-up' and quietly witty and perceptive, you are thoughtful and patient, impossibly strong and determined, can perform Bach Minuets flawlessly (and musically) on the violin (or piano, or flute...) with little practice ...and can play just about anything else you attempt with relative ease and a beautiful touch... I especially appreciate the way that you patiently play with and watch over all the cousins that adore you...
Maya and Sophie will only grow to love and admire you more. And I couldn't be happier about that. Nor could I be happier about the woman you are and are becoming.

I love you.

Happy Birthday.

Angie

While brainstorming for my elementary musical...

...I randomly stumbled upon this magical flicker page.

I love fairy tale cottages.

Today

was a day I could re-live several times and never grow tired.

I have no sensational stories or events to retell. Today just seemed uncommonly great. It was full of forgettable normalcy... piles of clothes to be sorted, occasionally whiny children, unloading and loading the dishwasher...

But time seemed to be moving just right. I somehow avoided any moments of panic or exhaustion. In fact, I think time actually slowed for a few moments in the late morning while Sophie and Maya and I laid and rolled and crawled and ran in the sunny grass ...all of us laughing uncontrollably. We played with our 'pop-up' tent, pretending it was our house and later a drive-thru ice-cream shop (Maya kept ordering a 'sausage bar'?? She hates sausage).

The day ended with a surprise date. Uninterrupted conversations, a bit of quiet, dinner at 'the Pie Company' (where Ryan convinced me of the superiority of the 'French Dip') and a rare trip to the mall for some new jeans and a classic black shirt.

But the day began with an amazing sleep, waking to the sun...and happy girls. Since we have no milk and very little of anything else in the fridge, the girls and I splurged on breakfast at Toast-n-Jams. Our table was loud and messy and fun. And the woman sitting nearby was kind and friendly to Sophie who really never stopped staring at her and waving.

We met a new friend at the library who just turned three. Her grandparents and I tried hard to convince the giggly girls that the library was supposed to be a place for quiet reading. While they played and shared some puzzles, "Selena's" grandpa and I shared stories of our Finnish family heritages and the Upper Peninsula, copper mines, and Drummond Island.

Ryan was eagerly welcomed home for lunch. (Egg salad sandwiches--not my favorite..but one of his favorites from childhood.)

After lots of new stories from the library, the girls napped...for hours. And I cleaned and did laundry. And I actually liked it. I didn't finish. But...there's tomorrow. Right?

While the girls slept in their rooms on either side of me, I sat in the hallway upstairs, folding their clothes. Someone once told me a story about sitting with a mother in a hospital...a mother who was losing her daughter...talking (weeping, actually) about going home and seeing her little girls laundry. And so I've never been grumpy about folding their tiny clothes. It's actually one household task that's always held a unique pleasure for me. I think I'll have to keep telling myself that...until they're old enough to fold their own clothes! (smile)

waste

This artist intrigued me tonight. (Thanks Dad Corbin). Obviously, his art doesn't last long. And it makes you want to scream....knowing that such intricately carved images will just disappear, smear, blow away, be wiped clean, wasted. But he knows this as he makes every mark. And he still creates.

I think my consumerist, product focused brain can hardly comprehend such generous work being created to be wasted.

My kind of art, musical performance, was always that kind of art before recorded music became a possibility. It was something to be savored only in the moment. Created, played, a process to be a participant of... and then gone (gone except for the written score...but really that is only part of the MUSIC....right?).

This concept of waste seems alright to me when the 'product' is only mediocre, if the performance was average to good. But if I hear or play or see something flawless, precise, moving, and sublime... I am distracted from the pleasure of the moment....preoccupied by my worry... that it wasn't saved. Or at least...that maybe someone else heard it too.

Whenever I am assured that something truly great has been captured, recorded, saved...I feel such relief:
Photographs of moments, occasions, people, places. A long paper, essay, letter, blog post. Video recordings of stories, performances, life.
I treasure these things.
And I really cling to the actual objects. Desperately, sometimes. (This is why my basement is so full.)

But there is something so tragically beautiful in the process of creating something that won't last forever (like a meal for people you love). And in being wasted beauty, it is also a little more authentic and...generous somehow. It seems to be a little more like life. Most things of real beauty are cyclical and fleeting (and I don't just mean seasons, sunsets, and flowers, and youth...though I suppose they're good enough examples).

One of the most agonizing feelings for me these days is the realization that once the dishes are all clean and put away, and the laundry is folded, and the toys are organized, and the cheerios are swept (which, by the way...none of these things actually are done.)...it will all start over again. Maybe this daily struggle against futility is what made me cling to these thoughts today.
I think I need to start finding more joy in the process of life...every day.

I'm not quite ready to give up the hope that something I've created will last forever...or at least for a really long time.

I do find great pleasure in recording music. And I also delight in listening to recorded music. Both of these things make my world exceedingly more serene, exciting, intoxicating, mysterious, inspiring, complex, satisfying.... I still like the 'products' of creativity.

I'm just saying that as an artist, a teacher, a mother, a wife, a student, a follower of Jesus...I tend to forget (even though I know) that the process of creating, of fixing, of learning, of mending, of finding and making beauty....the process is sometimes the point.

sick sophie.

We found out at about 5 AM. She was just faintly crying in her crib..but she was drenched (I won't go in to all the gross details.)

She's warm.

And really cuddly and sleepy.

I've only seen one smile today...Daddy got it.

And we were going to find an adventure today. I guess we'll just stay home and enjoy the sleepy afternoon sun streaming in our windows.

a week of birthday celebrations

Sophia.
Jaelynne.
Jaelyn.
Samantha.
Isaac.
Will.

I loved (and love) celebrating all of you!!!
Happy Birthday!

i haven't given up....

...but this blog is struggling these days, huh?

I keep checking back here to see if the author has posted anything new.

Nope.

************************

I haven't posted anything this month, but March has been fun.

Here are some un-edited, randomly blurted, tired ramblings about my life lately:

• I've been cold, hopeful, and exhausted, and overwhelmed. And sometimes I've been surprisingly warm in the sun, refreshed, and content.
• Went to Ohio. It was crazy fun. Maybe I'll post pictures someday.
• I started running again. (well, I've gone twice now.)
  
• I've been practicing...but not quite as much as I should be...(my teacher is in China for a few weeks).
• Sophie is almost ONE!
• My house seems to stay messy more often than I'd like. It's making me a little crazy.
• But....the basement is organized. That was a miracle performed by my sister Katie...a surprise birthday gift for my sweet husband and me. Maybe I'll post a story about that sometime too.
• Sophia puts everything in her mouth. Another post maybe.
• I've turned into a bit of a 'NO' person. I LOVE to please people. To say 'YES'. It's an addiction for me. But my current state of crazy overcommitment has forced me into a new phase of my life, where I just say 'no'...to all kinds of great, fun, worthy, tempting activities. If I've coldly said 'no' to you recently....I'm sorry. Know that I hated saying the word. But trust me, if I hadn't been forthright and honest with you.....I would eventually disappoint you with my unavailability and lack of energy or enthusiasm.
  
• I'm feeling tired just thinking about summer....longing for the warmth, the break from work, but dreading the 10 credits spent away from my home. The next restful (or even manageable) time of my life just seems to be too far away to even see in the distance.
• So I'm trying to be here. Now. Not longing for the unattainable future that seems easier and more fun. Right now is fun. Right now is good. Right now is full of incredible joy (that I will soon look back on with longing). I know this is true....and most of the time this way of being fully present comes naturally. But often (more often in the last few weeks)...I have to keep reminding myself of the gift of 'now.'
  
• Sophie is just too precious and affectionate to describe. She is silly and smart. She loves playing with her bouncy ball, bobbing her head up and down as she watches it bounce, squealing and laughing trying to catch it, chasing it all over her room as it rolls in front of her.
• Tonight Maya and Sophie were resting their heads on each others' shoulders....putting their noses together, smiling and laughing...holding hands while riding in their new side-by-side double stroller/ bike trailer.
  
• That's all I've got. I'm cold (the thermostat is set to drop when I should be in bed), and I'm tired.

I'm so lucky...

...that this man is the father of my children.





...that he picked me...to walk through life with, to spend forever beside, to raise our children together, to grow old with.




...that he is earnest, intelligent, kind, deep, fun, spontaneous, surprising, faithful, wise, romantic, honest, godly, diligent, witty, compassionate, articulate, patient, balanced, forgiving.


...that I get to be the one to kiss him when he wakes up a 'thirty-year-old'.

(I just went into the living room to give him a sleepy birthday kiss as his grandfather's mantel clock chimed midnight)




Though he's always said that he will like being an old man (he really likes handkerchiefs, shoe-polish, going to bed early, Antiques Roadshow, and Mr. Rogers-style-cardigan sweaters), he's a little bit afraid of leaving his 20's forever.

I think this is the first birthday that feels...momentous and intimidating. It's easy for me to say this, since I'm a mere 27...but I really think the 30's aren't so frightening. I love the man that Ryan has become/is becoming. And I love all of his thirty years of life that he now possesses.

In the last year (maybe it's because I'm feeling 'old' too), I've been thinking about the idea that the years we have lived are ours, and though we can't go back...or 'have' them back...we do still have them. Everything that we have gained from them, all the wisdom, experiences, memories, accomplishments, joys, sorrows are irrevocably ours.

My favorite author, Madeleine L'Engle said it nicely, "The great thing about getting older, is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been."

Ryan, I love the years of yours that you've shared with me... as your friend and your wife.
I feel so lucky to have you (and all your years).

Happy Birthday!

I've been posting less here...

...though my life is abounding with good things to write about...new experiences and ideas, overly-wordy contemplations about who I am, stories to tell about my children. It's just that I'm...

SO. TIRED.




Each day seems to be a chaotic, loud, exhausting, hilarious, fun, draining, ever-surprising, blur of confusion that seems to climax around dinner time. As the post-nap-time hunger rises, the house-hold volume increases with either whining, defiance, or absurd silliness.

Sometimes, dinner is incredibly peaceful, and fun, filled with stories from our day, stories from the Bible, cute antics, and kind words.
But sometimes it's less 'magical.'

Either way, once our meal is over, we just plow ahead towards bed-time as fast as we possibly can...trying to... clean up the kitchen, keep Sophie from climbing the stairs or eating everything in sight, play just a little bit more, change a diaper of a less-than-willing adorable monster, do pajamas, potty-time, milk, stories, and taking turns granting/dealing-with/ignoring/providing loving discipline for the countless urgent requests from Maya-who-is-supposed-to-be-in-bed.

Then, Ryan and I usually collapse and look at each other with bewildered expressions, silently communicating our memories of quieter days.

Then, I reluctantly peel myself off the couch or the bed, put on my slippers and practice my violin in the basement. Though I have to do a lot of internal convincing to actually do this instead of going to bed, once I start, I really can't stop.

We'd never actually wish away these days. We love them. Really.
We're just tired.

Sometimes, I wish....

...that I had been one of those really focused children. That I had spent hours practicing my violin. Not just playing it. But carefully, precisely....perfecting my technique. Making observations, judgments, and adjustments to my own playing. But I wasn't that child. I played my violin alot. I made a lot of music. And I progressed easily. But I really didn't practice.

So when I entered the 'world of music' (a college music department, professional music circles, and now grad school) I felt kind of, behind. And when I'm in circles of musicians, I'm always aware that I'm not quite intense enough. That I haven't spent the time..., that I'm not quite as proficient or knowledgeable....as I should be.

But with all those feelings of inadequacy (which are unhealthy, and revisited all to often on this blog...sorry, and are only sort-of based on truth) there's also this sense of smugness with which I sometimes comfort myself, a happy sense of satisfaction because I know... deep down.... I know.... that I could be...really good.

And I remind myself that instead...

I'm..."balanced". That I have a lot of interests, involvements, skills, relationships. That I've chosen this path of scattered investments. That my highest priorities right now are not music or academia, but people. A few very important people that need me.

(I couldn't help but post these old pictures. Just too sweet.)

And I'm unbelievably happy about this.

In fact, I feel really lucky. That I kind of get to 'have it all'. That I get to live this life of rich blessing...motherhood. And I get to share my whole life with my incredibly generous, self-sacrificing, funny, intelligent, handsome Ryan and our children.

AND.

I'm still a musician, and I'm still learning. And tomorrow I get to meet an amazing violinist who will actually listen to me play (cringe) and help me improve (hopeful smile). I'm scared to death about actually playing.

I listened to my Senior Recital CD yesterday. Often cringing at the rough spots, but mostly shocked that I could play that way not so long ago. Pieces I would struggle these days to read, let alone finger and play....I was playing with clarity...sometimes beauty and what even sounded like... ease.

And as I listened, I resolved to myself (and aloud to Ryan)...

This old recording will NOT be my best.

Merry Christmas from the Corbins!

You might get a card in the mail too. But if you do, it'll be late. I think I mailed about 7 cards on time...then I ran out of stamps. Christmas day is just 14 minutes away from being over. Hope your day was full of Love.

I don't know how...

....but I'm going to make the most of this opportunity.

I just made the payment for my three credits at Grand Valley. MingHuan Xu has agreed to take me as a violin student for this Winter. Did you read about her?

I'm already nervous..but mostly excited.

It's a one hour lesson per week, but I receive three credits towards my Masters at MSU. So that means, I practice...a lot. Maybe during nap time? In the basement?

I haven't really 'studied' violin in six years. And my playing has painfully regressed. I better go practice now. And I'll have to take a trip here soon to get my bow re-haired and maybe repaired.

Harmony

Something I love from today's advent prayer...

Lord, let us seek harmony in our lives as the angels did when they announced the Christ Child's birth in perfect praise. Amen.

My new favorite advent 'calendar'...our Jesse Tree. Each day, we add a new piece of The Story to our Jesse Tree, another story of God's Rescue Plan. We start with the explanation of 'the Root of Jesse'....and the story of Jesse and his son David, and then going all the way back to Adam and Eve in the garden, Noah, Abraham,....all leading up to The Rescuer.

This is the unfinished version... a picture I took last week. (Now it's hanging up on our wall)

A fun discovery.

Someone in my house loves putting little things in unexpected little places.

Lord, let my life be an unceasing prayer to you
despite its labors and losses;
grant me a gracious heart
that overflows with a gratitude to overcome
and wash away all my worries.
Amen.

-a prayer of Henri J. M. Nouwen

I don't actually have many real worries. At this point in my life, I have no practical needs to be anxious over, no physical burdens to bear, not even many of my own personal sorrows. So, I often make them up or take on those of others. I think I might look for things upon which to center my anxiety. And there is a lot of darkness in the world, so much heaviness to bear. I take the "bear one another's burdens" command very seriously. The danger in this for me, is that I tend to create something very ugly and self-centered out of a beautiful scriptural teaching.

Madeleine L'Engle (my favorite author, who would, of course, have something perfect to say 'to me' about this) wrote...

Compassion means to suffer with, but it doesn't mean to get lost in the suffering so that it becomes exclusively one's own. I tend to do this, to replace the person for whom I am feeling compassion with myself. --A Circle of Quiet

And this prayer from yesterday's advent reading so simply (and far more clearly and concisely than I could articulate) reminded me that my response to worry, my response to life, my response to Christ...should be unceasing prayer...and a heart of gratitude.