updated blog

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Following Lot

Colleen and I plus baby flew out to Colorado a couple weekends ago... Do you know how beautiful it is there? I'm not talking about the mountains, or the sunsets, or the postcards you've received from cousin Billy on his trip over christmas break skiing with the youth group wearing a Vikings Starter jacket (locals always hated those guys)... I'm just talking about the simple beauty of clean air, wide streets, grass to lie down in, grocery stores with produce. Even the public transportation is zen like, those two-car half-empty electric trains zip by as though they rode on margerine. Sitting out on the porch with coffee, paper, baby in the bouncer and time. Why is it that time is so slow out there?

It's a beautiful place, people seem inherently good, their lives are in order, their houses are put in place, their jobs are secure, I can't say that it's easy, but it seems easy. Why is it that the city makes everything more complicated, why is it that getting through the week here seems monumental, when there the week slips by like a childhood memories. Case in point, when I look back all I can think about is the lake we walked around, the long easy dinners, the parking... parking as far as the eye can see.

How did we end up here? Why can't we be there? How about one of those jobs that is comfortable? When do we get to settle into that? That's what we've been struggling with since we got back.

The one feeling I couldn't shake though, something so deep it's hard to describe. I thought about what it would be like to walk in that green grass that lies right there on the other side, and it feels empty. Our church isn't there. My amazing job is not there, our neighborhood is certainly not there, the young kids we know here aren't there, Starfish, Breakthrough, and even Trader Joe's is not there, it's all those things that make up the fabric... all that adds up to one thing that is missing for us, what's not there, that keeps us here: God's anointing.

Abraham pleaded with God... "God do not send us out without your anointing"

So after the week of wondering what if, we are committing to what is... God's anointing.

Picture of the Week

He Ran for me

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed. Hebrews 12:11-13

I'm not going to lie, these last three months have been really hard. I'm glad that Elodie is doing well, but if we were to post as many pictures of us on the blog as we do for Elodie, you would not be seeing smiles as cute as hers.

Olivier has expressed his challenges as a new father a few times. So now it's my turn. My challenges have surprised me. It's hard to transition from working in a full-time creative environment to a mundane, simple life of motherhood. I have found hidden sins in my heart that I didn't know existed. My "spiritual knees" are wobly and I can barely keep myself up some days.

It became apparent to me very quickly that I needed spiritual support. At the same time of that realization, my church offered a bible study for women. It's on Monday nights at 7. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem for me. But...with a baby it seemed impossible. Olivier normally gets home at 7 and I hated to leave him with a baby after a long day. After much thought, we decided that we could make it work--even if I was late. I was desperate.

This Monday the commute was a little different. Olivier has been taking the train to work and riding his bike from the station to work. The train leaves every hour and as he sped to the station, he went over a pot hole and blew out his tire. Because he didn't want me to be late, he ran in his biking shoes to the station. BTW--biking shoes are like ski boots. He barely made the train and I was on time.

I am so humbled by my husband. My desperation became his desperation. Olivier knew that I needed to meet with God and he made it his priority. This act has spoken more to me than anything I have encountered lately. It's such a picture of God's love. It makes me think of how I want to live my life. If everyday I only try to exist, I don't want that. But, if every day I could be desperate to meet with God, desperate to love my daughter, desperate to love Olivier--just so that they can meet with the Living God...I think that is a life well lived.

Thank you Olivier for running for me. Thank you for caring for me and loving me.

those mitten things...

Everybody tells you, "being a parent teaches you so much about God!" It seems to be this wonderful journey of how God is a father to you and takes care of your every need--every time you cry he just swoopes you right up and comforts you and he would drop everything the moment you needed him . . . nice, it's all very nice and true. The other side of that, for me at least, is that usually when you are learning something about God it's because you are finally coming to terms with more of who you are and as a result you have to turn to him for grace.

So I give you the mittens . . . those little thumbless pouches that you cram the babies hand into. How annoyed and squirmy does she get when we are trying to put them on! She flays her arms about and stretches her fingers out so they won't go on. Half the time she shakes them right off and they get tossed aside and ignored. She thinks she's found her freedom and can finally enjoy an open hand. But we know that she'll go right ahead and scratch her face up. And it's not like she hasn't done it before, she's given herself quite a few marks, she should learn by now. In fact I don't even think she's old enough to have hands yet, she should be growing them in a year or so when she's learned to control them. But we know, we know that for her own good we should limit her freedom and put them on her hands. It's not the most comfortable of things, but in the long run it's to protect her from herself. But just like a typical child, she doesn't know the good we want for her, and she rebelliously shakes them off and goes about scratching her face up....

And at every instance we get, even though it's our care that she's spurned, we'll comfort her, and then gently try to put them on again. Someday hopefully she will learn to surrender to the limitations we put on her and reside in the mercy and grace of her loving parents.

Thriving in the desert.

What a strange, alluring neighborhood... There is one particular girl here who Colleen and I have known for almost five years, initially came off as a kid who didn't have any respect or willingness to learn. We first got to know her on the soccer field, then a couple years later she joined Starfish, and recently she is one of the girls who has been stopping by our house with her friends. Well tonight, I pulled her tooth out for her!

A friend in urban ministry who has been a mentor to me always says that "you know you are starting to have an impact when a kid's parents call at three in morning with a crisis concerning their child and needing your help." Well a reluctant kid who is fearful of pulling a tooth out is hardly a crisis worthy of a three am phone call. But I just thought how interesting it was that over the years it has come to a place where Colleen and I and a group of kids can be huddled in front of the mirror laughing as we are pulling teeth out together. It's never happened in other places.

I recently meet a couple down the street who were holding a young baby out on their porch. I chit chatted... then the great grandmother walks up behind and says hello to Elodie "she is so beautiful!" she goes on about how wonderful children are and how lucky I am to be a dad... I reach my hand out to shake hers.. she becomes embarassed because she reaveals a pack of smokes and lighter, and almost forgetting what is in her other hand she holds it out only to show two strips of crispy bacon in it, so she quickly puts it in her mouth, and extends her hand back out. Laughing she realizes her manners when she sees her greasy fingers, so finally with a big toothless grin she turns her elbow to me and I shake it with a smile.

Looking out the window we saw kids having a dance off in the intersection where they just installed a Chicago Police blue light. Seriously, a dance off!

There are the deaf people across the street who are always signing over to me, I don't understand but the countenance is always so good...

There is this kid who every single day walks by at the same time in the morning with his white collared shirt and navy pants, with his little brother in tow...

There is a rogue garage behind us with ten or so shirtless guys who, serving as the mechanics, charge you the rate of "well what do you wanna pay?"

The Pastor in a head to toe red zuit suite who promises to give me a copy of his gospel album when it comes out, any day now...

The fact that this is the first time since my youth, that the person who delivers our mail knows us by name, and even asks about Elodie...

Even the boarded up houses. The one that was just torn down... the other one where they took out half and patched up the side to where you can see where the stairs used to be... the trash and litter, the empty lots... They play stick ball on those empty lots, I saw it with my own eyes.

Even the gun shots are a celebration of the lives that are thriving despite the circumstance...

They somehow create a vibrance and beauty all it's own that isn't available in the pristine cut lawns and cleaned streets of other areas.

It amazes me how resilient humans are...

That girl who's tooth I pulled, now she could be a leader, she's learned so much and grown so much...

Tonight, Colleen completely filled with the spirit, had the girls blushing at the prospect of someone who desperately wanted to marry them. She introduced them to a Lord and Savior who calls them his bride. We stood in a circle hand-in-hand. Elodie was in my arms, as Colleen prayed for the girls. I felt the Lord's presence. At that time, I thought that there is no better place to raise this child than right here in the midst of all this beauty....

Elodie takes Chicago

speechless

A good friend just sent this photo to us...it was taken in 2001. It was my first year in Chicago and that was when I still had the guts to throw a "thriftstore formal" party. This is what resulted from that. It cracks me up. Olive can really pull off the pink!

cat lady

This picture made me laugh for a long time.

More Elodie anyone?

Here are a few new pictures of our precious Elodie. The first is after a bottle and so accurately portrays her contentment. Excuse the blur, but notice her smile! The next is a new pic of Elodie finally sleeping in her crib!

A day in the life of Colleen

Oh, how little did I know that when it was proper, I wouldn't always be so eager to this!

Touch of Grace

(posted by Olivier, this is CoandO after all)

For me the hardest part about this transition in life is not the three am diaper change, or having to postpone a bathroom break for a crying baby, even the fatigue is manageable for me... the hardest part is how disconnected from God I've become. Previously I was really under control and able to give my forty-five minutes in the morning, my Thursday nights to the Lord, and Sunday mornings (a long morning at the Tab). Lately though, zero, I've given the Lord just about zero of myself.

Surely when you are exhausted and being stretched to a point that you never have been before, God understands and the grace is there, right? And yes it has been there, for my wife, and for the baby, and even work, being able to get up and be a father in the middle of the night, or at the end of a work day, and commutes on a slimmed down two lane Edens, to be able to come home and have a genuine desire to take care of a baby and hear about Colleen's day, these are things that I can't claim as my own good nature, but rather the grace of God. But where the grace of God seems to be lacking the most for me right now is in my own personal life. I don't have it in me to praise while I'm driving, or to get into the word... it's just not there. I feel busted. Perhaps this is just my own misunderstanding of who God is and his infinite mercy, but truthfully it's just been a struggle... I just talked with a wise brother in the Lord, my brother, and he said, "it's time for me to stop complaining." I couldn't help but think how mature of a statement that is given the fact of the God we serve...

And so it's time for me to stop complaining, I need a touch of grace... This past Thursday night was our prayer meeting, usually a surefire way of getting close to God and being renewed, but not so this time. Elodie needed a feeding and she kept us from the exhaltation time, and during the word I had to leave and feed her a bottle... really I could've been home and watching "The Office". But I knew I needed God... I was desperate. It came time to pray for each other and I thought, with our daughter between us, it would be an opportune time to pray for ourselves as a family. I had shown up for the meeting, and wasn't able to connect in praise, nor in lesson, and now I wanted to hear from him... I started to open my mouth and tell God of his goodness, but I was only able to sputter some nonsense... "Lord why is this so hard right now, what is going on? surely you know how hard this is..."

Then I feel the hands of our loving friends come behind us and a voice that says "we really want to pray for you..." And as our brother and sister start praying for us I realize that each and every thing they say and ask God for is just what had been weighing so heavy on my heart... rest, assurance, renewal, courage, energy, new love, new annointing, grace upon grace... And there he was, God, in the middle of their prayers, telling me, "Yes, I know... I know you are distant, and tired, but I know, and you are mine..." and there it was, in a long night of waiting on God, he just showed up in that prayer, in a way that had nothing to do with me. I didn't stretch my faith or get up in the middle of the night, he just came, and in that short moment came the touch of Grace...

Heavenly Day

I'm not smart enough to figure out how to post a song on this blog, but if I were...you'd be listening to Patty Griffin's Heavenly Day. I'd want you to hear it because it was a bit of what my day felt like today. Nothing fantastic happened...just a little sunshine, a sweet baby, lunch with my hubby and peace from God. I'm so grateful for it, so I thought I'd share the slice of heaven with you...

Here are the lyrics of the song:

Heavenly Day

,Patty Griffin

Oh heavenly day, all the clouds blew away
Got no trouble today with anyone
The smile on your face I live only to see
It's enough for me, baby, it's enough for me
Oh, heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

Tomorrow may rain with sorrow
Here's a little time we can borrow
Forget all our troubles in these moments so few
All we've got right now, the only thing that
All we really have to do
Is have ourselves a heavenly day
Lay here and watch the trees sway
Oh, can't see no other way, no way, no way
Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

No one at my shoulder bringing me fears
Got no clouds up above me bringing me tears
Got nothing to tell you, I've got nothing much to say
Only I'm glad to be here with you
On this heavenly, heavenly, heavenly, heavenly
Heavenly day, all the trouble's gone away
Oh, for a while anyway, for a while anyway
Heavenly day, heavenly day, heavenly day

Elodie Ma Cherie

a conversation from our visit last night

Colleen: "Arianna, I love your socks!"

Arianna"Yeah?"

Colleen: "I love them so much that I'd like to take a picture of them"

Arianna: "Oh yeah?"

Lelah: "Arianna, you got them socks from the gas station"

Arianna: "Yup, I always get my socks from the gas station"

Lelah: "I got these socks from the gas station too"

Arianna: "cool"

Ohhh...now I remember...

Life has been pretty hard these last few weeks. Olivier and I are emotionally and physically exhausted caring for Elodie. My transition into being a stay-at-home mom hasn't been quite as picturesque as I thought it would be. I am having faith that things will get better, but there are some days that I feel I've lost all purpose in my life-other than being a mom to a baby who can't talk to me or tell me if I'm doing a good job.

Last night, Olivier and I were taking turns eating dinner when the door bell rang announcing a whole group of girls at the gate. Olivier sophisticatedly opened the window to talk to them.

"What's up girls?"

"OLIVIER, OLIVIER...WE WANNA SEE YO BAAAA-BY"

It was a whole group of girls from the neighborhood, desperate to meet Elodie.

The funny thing about this is that these girls remembered that I was having a baby. I haven't seen them since December. I'm so honored that they thought of us. There have been other girls that have been calling us every week asking when the baby was to come. I just don't ever recall seeing such thoughtfulness from 10 years olds ever in my life.

The girls held Elodie, looked at her feet, checked out her "crib" and just stared at her. Elodie loved it. She was fussing all night and when they came, she was the most peaceful I'd seen her all day.

I need to remember this moment. When I'm home alone, bored and frustrated...help me remember that there are little girls out in the neighborhood who have loved us. They want to be a part of our lives. The girls kept asking to come over everyday to be in our house and see Elodie. One girl asked Olivier for our number and pulled out a miniature address book (seriously it was like an inch big). She filled the page with our number and looked so satisfied. The girls often say that it feels so good to be in our house. Another girl asked me last night about a bible lesson I taught her in JUNE! She remembered what I taught her. Is it possible that God has set our life up to speak loudly to Garfield Park, without us doing a thing? Is this what it's like to be living in his will? Help me remember this.

Exit freedom, enter prayer...

Welcome Elodie Claire Currat!

Elodie was born on March 26th at 12:17am. She weighed a measly 9.1lbs. and was 21 inches long! The last trimester of pregnancy and this first month of life has really rocked our world!

Here's the story:

I (Colleen) had a great pregnancy. It was such a great pregnancy that sweet Elodie, was two weeks overdue. I was super annoyed and frustrated the last month of pregnancy. I had wonderful midwives looking after me, being so careful and gentle to not force things along. That's great in theory, but in reality I would have taken any synthetic drug to speed things along. I didn't but will next time. :)

I finally went into the hospital to be induced and found that my body had already started contracting. I was hooked up to pitocin anyway and labor began in as little as 30 minutes. It was so weird to be hooked up and left to labor on my own. No one told me how it was going to go, but I soon found out. I labored drug-free for about 4 hours. When my contractions started coming 1 minute apart with no advances in dialation, I caved for the epidural. It's just as amazing as everyone says!

By 10:30 in the evening, I was not dialated more than 4cm. My body was contracting as much as it could, I was exhausted, and my midwife had a white flag waving. Something was wrong, Elodie couldn't move into birthing position. I was in denial that I would ever have to have a c-section. When my midwife told me, Olivier and I took an hour to pray before agreeing to it. As I look back, that hour was such a sweet time. It was one of the first moments of putting Elodie into God's hands. We couldn't control her and only He knew what was best. With no progression at the end of that hour, we accepted the c-section with peace.

In no more than 45-minutes, I was prepped and wheeled into surgery. I kept telling myself that everything was fine, to focus on the textures of anything I saw to avoid flipping out...but I eventually fell into deep fear. I started shaking and Olivier entered as I almost completely lost it. I have never gone through surgery before, and admit that the process is far from warm and lovely. Everything was happening so fast and before I knew it, the doctors called for Olivier to look as Elodie arrived. She was quiet, I had a moment to think "I don't hear her" and then she let out a blood-curdling one-note scream. She scared everyone. I remember thinking, "oh no, she's loud". The next thing I heard was, "Oh my goodness, she's 9 pounds, 1 oz. Mom!"

That's how everything began. The hospital stay was really nice and even better when my mom arrived. I've been healing wonderfully and everyday entering into more of a bond with Elodie. I'll write more about that later. For now, here's her late debut...