Forty Days

In Eastern Orthodox Christianity, mamas and their new babies don't return to Church until forty days after the birth. Just as Mary and Joseph presented the newborn Jesus in the Temple when He was 40 days old, we return to Church, bringing our baby for the first time. There we're welcomed back with special prayers of blessing for both of us. It has become one of my favorite moments, and something we all anticipate with great joy. When I first heard about this custom, I must admit, my initial reaction was probably somewhat like yours; what kind of legalistic Old Testament hooey is that? Well, a few years and a couple of babies later, and I've begun to see it quite differently. Many cultures around the world still give new mamas a period of rest, time to heal, and time to bond with their new babies. Even here in the US, most doctors and midwives recommend limiting activity in the first 6 weeks after birth. It's nice to be part of a tradition that supports this!

Following Brigid's birth, I really embraced and enjoyed my "forty days". It helped immensely that we had many meals brought, help from our families, and a supportive and loving husband. I tried to be intentional about resting and not overdoing it. I went out to a few family gatherings and grocery shopping a couple of times toward the end, but otherwise just said no to other social outings and engagements. I have come to see this time as a gift. Life can quickly become so crowded, and as we all know, those sleepy first weeks go by so quickly. You you wake up one day and realize you no longer have a newborn but a smiling, cooing little baby. I feel like this time around, in spite of my other three active children, I was able to experience a little more deeply the gift of rest. It was not forced upon me, nor was it given grudgingly. Like a newborn babe, it was a sweet gift of love. Interestingly, with my three other children I felt like the first six weeks were a real emotional roller coaster; this time around I've felt much more rested and "level". I'm grateful for this gift of rest, grateful for a Church that gives it, and for a community of friends and family who helped make it possible.

Here is a beautiful post of someone else's experience with her "forty days".

Three Weeks, and a Name (or Three)

Can this dear tiny girl really be three weeks already? I cannot say how much we are enjoying this little bundle. She brightens our days with her sweetness. I don't know how such a helpless little thing can so capture our hearts, but she surely has! 

It took us a while to settle on her full name, but we finally did. Here is Brigid Pearl Annabelle. Like all of our kids, she has three names, each with a story. I find naming a baby difficult; I was never one of those girls who had lists of baby names scribbled on paper years before I even got married. (You know who you are!) I tend to approach it with a lot of hesitation. I want their name to be meaningful and fitting, as well as something that fits well with the other kids names and our last name. After Peregrine, Alethea, and Raphael, we could hardly call this little one something too common! 

Moving on to her stories: 

Brigid: Some time ago we got a children's story book about St. Brigid of Ireland, a great woman of God who was known for her great care and generosity toward the poor. She devoted her life to serving God by serving people. The kids loved her story, and we all liked the name; we pray that our little Brigid's life will also be characterized by love and compassion for all. The name means strength. 

Pearl: All of our kids have had a "womb" nickname, something simple and sweet we called them until they were born, or in some cases, until they were one, or five. Peregrine was Pip, and that's what he was known by until he was about a year old, and then he just sort of grew into his "big" name. Then there was Alethea, who, to this day, is known as Poppy. Raphael was Pepito, and he was never called that after his birth. And then there was baby number Four, little Pearl, called that since she was probably the size of a pearl, a small and precious life being fearfully and wonderfully knitted together within me. We've already come to know her as Pearl, and so there wasn't any question of whether or not that would be one of her names.

Annabelle: Not long ago my sister Alyssa gave us a copy of an old Golden Book called Little Mommy. It was a favorite of ours growing up; my mom read it so many times I think she can quote it to this day. It was out of print for years and recently reprinted, so I was delighted to introduce it to my own children. Poppy quickly came to love it as well. It's the story of a girl who is "little mommy" to her dolls, and begins "This is my house and I am the Mommy, my children are Annabelle, Betsy, and Bonnie..." When we were talking about what Brigid's third name should be Poppy voted for Annabelle. I looked up the meaning, and it means grace or favor in Hebrew, and lovable in Latin. It just seemed to fit, and since Peregrine had contributed Samuel to Raphael's name, we thought it would be sweet for Poppy to get to help choose her sister's name.

And there you have the story behind the name, and here's one final picture of the girl, who, we trust, will someday grow into that name:

Three Days

Blessed

The last few months have been full, belly full of baby, days full of kids and projects and and preparation.  Yesterday we welcomed into our family a sweet baby girl. Our hearts are full and thankful; we are blessed. She is healthy and we are resting and enjoying getting to know her. (Well, I should say she and I are resting; Erik is working hard to care for the other children and fill my shoes while I rest.) Rejoice with us! 

San Sebastian del Oeste

Ripe coffee "cherries" growing in the shade of citrus trees.

Geraniums in the window.

The church of San Sebastian, as seen from the "bandstand" in the town square.

The interior of the church.

    We rented a car yesterday and drove inland, up into the mountains, to an old mining town called San Sebastian del Oeste. It was once the capital of the state of Jalisco with over 20,000 people, but now has a population of only about 600. The drive itself was beautiful as we wound up higher and higher into the green mountains. The drive was was similar to "the scenic route" of my childhood memory, steep and winding. We saw some very interesting animal crossing signs. One was an armadillo, another a wild pig of some sort, and the third a mountain lion! We didn't see any wildlife quite so interesting unfortunately! On the sides of some of the steep mountainsides were huge boulders and rocks, and signs portrayed a car with rocks falling on it from above. Just something else to watch out for, other than armadillos.

    We finally reached our destination; San Sebastian. First stop was a coffee plantation; we could smell the coffee roasting as we stepped out of the car. Such a familiar smell! There were tiny glazed terra cotta cups to sample the coffee, and then we walked out into an open back yard. There they sorted beans, roasted, and sold the coffee. There was a cage with two big, colorful parrots, and the kids enjoyed seeing those. We walked back into the shady plantation where the coffee was grown. Most of the berries were still green, but a few were turning red. This coffee was truly shade grown- beneath huge citrus and avocado trees! Talk about getting good use from your land!

    After the coffee plantation, we drove further into the town and walked along the cobblestone streets to the town center. In the town square were beautiful gardens, with pointsettia plants taller than I am! In the center was a big gazebo, with lots of white wrought iron and lamp posts topped with white dragons! I learned later that these gazebos are called bandstands; that would explain the lack of any benches. The air was much cooler than here at the coast; still warm in the sun, but there was a fresh coolness about it. Plastic red and white flags fluttered above the streets, and most of the buildings were painted in white and burgundy. Pots of geraniums in all colors graced windows covered by wrought iron bars. There was a peacefulness to the town, in spite of the loud Mexican music coming from near the square.

    We walked around a little while Erik scoped out a place for us to get lunch. We ended up in a restaurant looking out over the square, past the tall white dome of the church, and beyond to the green mountains. I enjoyed a fresh squeezed orange juice along with a delicious chile relleno, rice, a handmade corn tortilla, and beans made with real lard from the taste of them! Typical fashion for the men of San Sebastian seemed to include jeans and cowboy hats, and Peregrine was very excited to see the occasional "vaquero" ride by on his horse, shoes clip-clopping along on the cobblestone.

    After lunch we walked down- literally; it's a very hilly town- to the church named for Saint Sebastian the Martyr. It was built in the 1600's, and then rebuilt in the 1800s after an earthquake. (I kept looking at the the brick buildings and brick walls and wondering how the town would fare in an earthquake.) It was a large church for such a small town, but quite beautiful. It had a very European feel, with great arches coming together overhead, and they were painted in shades of blue and purple. Poppy, of course, liked that! At the front of the church were several huge bouquets of flowers; the fragrance of lilies scented the church. I learned later that it was the last of three days of the feast of San Sebastian.

    We left the church and walked down another road. We stood overlooking a small ravine with a little waterfall and stream flowing at the bottom. Vegetation grew lushly out of the brick walls that had been built to fortify it; I was amazed to see clumps of impatiens growing three feet across, like small bushes! We continued on and stopped in the small shop of a silversmith, who had all the tools of his trade there and made beautiful jewelry. We enjoyed looking through open doors into sunny courtyards, filled with plants and people going about their everyday lives. We stopped in at a place that rented rooms; there were several rooms around the most beautiful open courtyard. On the floor were laid bricks in sun or star patterns, and in between the bricks grew tiny green plants; you felt like you were walking on a living tapestry. There were several sitting areas outside of the simple rooms; couches and tables and chairs, and lots and lots of plants. We toyed with the idea of spending the night, but thought better of it, as we were totally unprepared. We did take a card though; it would have been nice to spend more time in that charming town, and the price for our entire family? About thirty dollars!

    We walked back up to the town center and watched some men comb their horses, mount them, and ride away. Very exciting for a certain young man with a horse infatuation. From there we decided to take a different road, a narrow steep path that led down and out beyond the town. We crossed a small brick bridge with three arches under which flowed the same small stream we'd crossed over earlier. We walked out a bit, and then back up the road where we were enticed by the delicious smells of fresh bread baking. There, in a small open window just above street level, we could see a tray of cooling pastries. There were no signs to lead one to this panaderia, only that smell. We walked on until we found an opening in the wall, and entered into what seemed to be nothing more than someone's yard. At the end was a huge stone oven, and next to it a smaller one. And there, in two small rooms, were the bakers, three women, shaping dough and emptying trays, and watching over pans of baking rolls and sweet breads. We waited outside a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but quite sure that we would like very much to sample their wares. Finally one of them motioned for us to come in, and pointed us toward an empty tray and a pair of tongs. We got the idea; we simply needed to fill our tray, which we managed to do. We picked out a few rolls and things, stopping briefly to admire two huge spiders living behind the glass case that housed the sweet rolls. While not the most delicious of the things we bought, the most memorable was a cookie in the shape of a pig; it had the distinctive taste of lard.

    And so our time in San Sebastian came to an end. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and we decided to head back. It was a magical day, one I won't soon forget. There is something I love about mountains, and about mountain towns, and one got the feeling there, in spite of stalls of gaudy plastic trinkets for sale, loud music, and high heels clicking on the cobblestones, that there is something about life there that is much the same as it has been for a good long time. Something relaxed and unhurried, something beautiful. I would love to return someday when we have more time to explore.