Its Official

She's a girl. Even in Mexico. Last Friday, Ben and I took Addison to get her ears pierced. She was a champ! Cried for about 15 seconds and then perked right up to look around and show off her little ears. I know that some of you may need a little background. I was the first Taylor child born in Mexico, and the first girl. Although my parents initially resisted the social pressure to have my ears pierced, they eventually succumbed because their pastor pulled my father aside and said, "Brother, everyone thinks your daughter is a boy. You have to pierce her ears." So they did. Melissa had her ears pierced in the hospital. So when Addie was born, the conversation of when we could pierce her ears was an early one. Up in these here United States you have to wait until the baby has had her 2 month shots. So we waited until such a day came and made her gender official. :) This explanation may still leave some of you puzzled and uncertain. I offer as proof positive that this was a good idea the undeniable cuteness of my daughter. (Notice that all the pictures are from the side . . .her cheeks are so chubby that you can't see her ears in a straight on shot)


This last picture was taken last Sunday. My Grandparents on my mother's side are in town and it has been so great having them around. Addison has loved meeting them. She is here with her great grandma Sue.

The Wedding

Ben, Addison and I went to a wedding in Pennsylvania last weekend. I thought I'd post some pictures for you all to see! Ben and Andy Gear have been friends since they were boys playing ninja in Andy's basement. Andy lived right down the street from the Davy's in Norfolk so many childhood memories for Ben involve the Gear family. At the rehearsal dinner, Andy introduced Ben to everyone and said that he has a picture at home of the two of them plus Andy's brother Greg and Ben's brother Jesse in a bathtub together. This was to illustrate how long they have been friends (for the sake of your peace of mind, at least 5 years. . . ). It was just great to see how much joy and commraderie is shared by Andy and Ben - it meant a lot that we were there. Andy and his now wife met in East Asia while teaching English with ELI. They will be going to seminary in St. Louis and we are pumped about them being in the same continent and even within driving distance!
Andy and Hannah as they left the church. We love Andy. We think he's stellar. Andy is definitely marrying up. :)
This is the house that we got to stay in during our time in Harrisburg. It was HUGE and beautiful. This is a view of the back side of the house; behind the camera is a tennis court and a private lighted baseball field. Let me say that again. Private Lighted Baseball Field. We stayed in the apartment above their garage that was roomy and comfortable. The people who so generously let us stay with them are called the Parmers. They stocked our kitchen with food, prepared the apartment beautifully for us and were extremely generous with their time. Definitely a highlight of the trip.
And this is my friend, the one and only, Jessi Noblitt. She flew out with me and Addison (we had separate flights from Ben) and was an incomparable fellow traveler. It was delightful getting to spend so much time with her. She made traveling with a 2 month old very doable! And since we rarely get chances to really catch up, I LOVED the times of chilling out and talking. I have never met anyone who gets so much joy from caring for other people.

And now we are home and finally back into our regular routine. Addison has been glad to be home and around her familiar smells. She's been a little clingy and fussy - understandably with all the adjusting she was doing over the long weekend. So good to be back to the swing of wonder and the butt-vibrating bouncy seat. :) I feel the same way, Addie Ann.

Finally, in case you haven't checked, the comments section of the last post is great - I've truly appreciated the input. Check it out and give me your thoughts if you are so inclined.

oblique angles

"Somehow it is the balladeer, the artist, the poet, the song-writer, the filmmaker who ends up wrestling with life’s conundrums, capturing or being captured by an idea and then packaging, presenting and unwittingly popularizing that idea across whole strata of societies. Unlike the preacher, professor, scientist and car-mechanic, the artist seems to have a sacred responsibility to come at truth from an oblique angle, through story and shades of light, to cause whole nations to reconsider, take a second look, think again or just receive." Stefan Eicher

Stefan Eicher is an artist who runs a gallery in New Delhi, India. The king of random acquaintances, Case Maranvile, connected us to him. Stefan has some great thoughts and beautiful thought provoking paintings. The concept of art penetrating defenses because it can come at truth from an oblique angle has been sticking with me these days. I keep thinking about it. I know that I have been consistently shaken and moved by concepts that seemed to sneak up on me, tumbling through my brain on the melody line of a beautiful song. So why can't "worship music" be that way. This is my thought tonight. (forgive me) Why must we fall back on the line "Holy is the Lord" or "Fall on my knees"? Because it rhymes with the last line? Because the syllables are easy to match with a melody? Because we haven't interacted with the God of the Bible deeply enough to come away with metaphor or comparison that hints at honest, ground sanctifying awe? I sound critical. I am. I am also deeply suspicious of my own creative crutches, and as the music director at my church I keep asking these questions because the last thing I want to be a part of is a trite, easy, worship service that pumps recycled spiritual air through the same dusty vents. Not that using words like "holy" or "falling" are bad. But what if the command to worship with a new song is a challenge to craft word and melody with the kind of artistry that could awaken longing, surprise with wonder, or shake with fear? Maybe it could come to us at oblique angles.

What do you think? Can we worship that way? I'd love to know what you think.

Two months

Addison is officially two months old today! She chose to commemorate this auspicious occasion by not eating well and crying at most available moments. Hmmm. Apparently she dislikes getting old. I did get some pretty great pictures of her sitting in her car seat, though. Notice, she looks nostalgic.

This picture cracks me up. Ben took it this morning. She wasn't ready for the flash . . .

Mondays

I wonder if we would feel differently about Mondays if they were on a different day of the week. . .

Mondays are my days to be productive. I do laundry on Mondays, buy groceries for the week, go to staff meeting, attempt to catch up on emails. The last two weekends we have gone up to Norfolk for Friday and Saturday, and I know that we wear the same number of clothing articles in Norfolk but I feel like we have twice as much laundry. This is inexplicable.

When I get it all done on a Monday I feel pretty good - like I'm ready for whatever the rest of the week will hold. It would be misleading for me to let you imagine that this happens every Monday. Sometimes I don't brush my teeth until 4pm. whew, now that we have that out on the table, I can also admit to rarely flossing.

On a side note, if you were unable to participate in the Choose your Own Adventure series, click here for the first chapter. The comments section lists the votes. Thanks to everybody who contributed! Good times. :)

option a

Chapter 5

East of Hwy 51, snug against the tree line of Giant City State Park, Makanda Illinois writes its name on the map. Its boardwalk is scuffed by the slow tread of hippies; its train tracks smoothed by more people going than coming. Bing found himself on Hwy 51 but 5 miles from Makanda. It had not taken too much explaining to convince Prism and Marley that he needed to go home. To defy, to stick it to the man, was a quest worth sacrifice in their minds. And so he willed his little feet once more to wander and trudged along the asphalt. Trusting the hospitality of a friendly truck driver, Bing made his way to an intersection with train tracks.

We leave our little friend here. Truth be told, the world knew little more of Bing Keefer. He never returned to the safe shelter of his Aunt and Uncle's farm. He never gave another doleful sermon to his sheep, never again prayed to the twelve saintly cats. Bing's trail was lost in the outskirts of Makanda. However. . .

Some thirty years later, from the mountain heights of Kashmir, a book was written and later published under the name King Beefer. The book was titled "A god in my image: memoirs and confessions."