View from the Prairie Box

Last night I heard animated jumping upstairs in the study. Jump, jump! Which really sounded like Bam! Bam! considering our wood floors. In a few moments the Bam noises took bounding leaps from the study to the hallway and down the stairs and all I could think was, Goodness. Sure hope Jeremy’s not holding the baby right now! Next thing I know, my husband flies into the kitchen, arms raised in the WeDidIt! pose:

“She rolled over! She rolled over!”

Oh, the things we get excited about these days!

Sucking her fingers, laughing out loud, holding her head up (it is, too, exciting, Joe!) and rolling over are all on equal turf with winning the Indy 500 or an Oscar. Go, Team Livia!

I’m usually the one behind the camera, but today I asked my dad to take a picture of me, future blog in mind.

I have taken a position on “O” Street as part of the “Life Chain” for years now. In the early days I enjoyed taking a stand for my pro-life beliefs in a public venue. I can remember seeing the Life Chain for the first time and being floored at how many Lincolnites lined this longest main street in the U.S. (not sure if it still is) — and I wanted to be a part of it. As the years passed I grew more outspoken about abortion and desparately wanted to change the minds of pro-choice folks. But this year marked a change in my thinking… Though I’d like to somehow affect someone’s view of abortion, more than ever I just felt the need to voice my opinion. We live in an amazingly awesome country and our rights to free speech are important. Today, the sign I carried spoke my sentiments precisely.

And yes, that is Livia’s stroller at my side. There is a boy at my far left carrying a sign that says, “Adoption: the Loving Option.” He’s adopted. Livia’s adopted. I am profoundly grateful for the birthparents who chose to carry these pregnancies to term rather than abort them as teeny fetuses. Such self-sacrificing folk have given us wonderful opportunities for parenthood. God bless ’em.

…is a sleeping baby on your shoulder, breathing evenly on your neck, soft cheek against yours. It’s a feeling that just can’t be beat.

I highly recommend having children.

Our Blockbuster movie dealio has come to an end. And for anyone who’s counting—yes, we did the deal for two months because, ahem, we didn’t cancel it in time. No real surprise there. I think we’ve ended our two months with two winners: Man on Fire and Winged Migration.

Man on Fire was interesting, violent, disturbing at times and yet hopeful. Sometimes I get a little tired of Denzel, but he did a fantastic job in this one and I really enjoyed his performance. Both Jeremy and I agreed it was one of the better movies we have seen recently, for reasons that I can’t quite articulate right now. Sorry… My movie reviewer skills are failing horrendously.

Winged Migration was beautiful. Jeremy and I are PBS fans and tend to be fascinated by documentaries of the natural world, which thoroughly explains why we enjoyed this flick. The actual movie portion of the DVD was a bit long; we watched it in two sittings. I highly recommend viewing the featurette on the making of the film—very, very cool. I felt every inch the non-filmmaker that I am as I saw what took place behind the scenes and said, “Oh! So it wasn’t just dumb luck that they caught that scene on camera?!?” The movie is due back sometime this week. Hopefully I’ll get to watch the featurette on the film’s music before returning the DVD.

Happy birthday to two special guys in my life…

To Jeremy, my awesome husband: I wish you much joy in this next year as we establish our own little Tredway family. May the Lord grant us wisdom in the journey and an abundance of love and grace in our household!

To Andrew, my younger brother: How the heck did you get to be 23?? (That means Adam’s just plain elderly and I must be middle-aged!) I wish you a year that includes a fabulous graduation and, afterwards, a new path for you to explore, wherever the Lord directs you.

In honor of your birthday tomorrow (happy 23rd, old man!), I present to you: The Progression of Fussy.

Hmmm…

Can you get fired from your job because of your blog? Troutgirl and Dooce were.

Can you shame a major television network and their chief correspondent because of your blog? Yes, yes you can.

I have learned that the strength of a blog is also it’s weakness. On this page in the vast worldwide web I am allowed to speak freely. No editor to chop my chosen words or correct my grammar. No advisor to read it before it’s published and tell me to rethink rash statements. No guide to remind me that 12 year old cousin Bobby, an unknown pot-smoking college freshman, my highly respected pastor and my Granny are all reading my words. Nope.

The beauty is that in Blogland, I go it alone. The problem is, similarly, in Blogland I go it alone.

“We’ve all heard that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare. Now, thanks to the Internet, we know this is not true.”

– Robert Wilensky

Reader’s Digest, Sept. 2004 (p. 111)

Several years ago I seemed to hear quite a bit about “Girls’ Weekends”. Women who had been friends for years would get together once a year for a weekend o’ fun—they could travel to a new city together, rent a beach house, establish a theme for their time together, etc. I had lost touch with good friends over the years due to laziness and distance but greatly wanted to be a part of a girls’ weekend.

Thus began what my friend Haley calls the Horn Creek Reunion Tour. We just completed Year Three.

Nine years ago (ten for Autumn, Charity and I) we met at Horn Creek camp in the gorgeous Sangre de Cristo mountain range in southern Colorado. All PCA kids, we signed up for PYA and created memories to last a lifetime. In 1995 we were Cabin #2. Counseled by the fun-loving Amy Rathjen—very newly pregnant with her firstborn I might add—we grew to love each other. Cheesy letters of teenage drama and spiritual encouragement (ahem, Bryonie!) criss-crossed the nation courtesy of the United States Postal Service. Every so often one of us would be blessed with a package of Haley’s gourmet chocolate chip cookies. Within a few years we were college students—one year even saw four of us all at Covenant College. Haley, always the faithful correspondent, kept in good touch from Belhaven in Mississippi.

And then, three years ago, we took the plunge. A location was arranged thanks to the graciousness of Autumn’s family. A menu was planned. Plane tickets were purchased. And Charity’s mom’s SUV was procured for us Nebraskans who were close enough to drive.

I think I can speak for all of us when I say our girls’ weekend is highly cherished. I am extremely proud of all my friends—of their gentle spirits, of their constant encouragement, of their diverse achievements and, most of all, of their deep desires to glorify God. We plan to continue this tradition (afterall, who wouldn’t want to lay on a deck by a lake, eat, drink and talk with friends for two days straight?) for many years to come. Last year we decided that we’d bring our babies, when we had them, and so Livia was part of our deck-lounging this year.

Here’s to good friends, good food, good conversation and one great weekend a year!

(Check out Charity’s blog for more photos.)