toy barn

She fumbles with her little toy barn, banging together the small colored shapes, the impression of farm animals on the front of each. Blue triangle cow, green circle sheep, yellow pig star. She seems to know, with a faint understanding, that they somehow fit into the similarly shaped holes on the building’s façade. Then, exhausted from all the hard work, she grabs her water, grasping the cup with both her hands, and guzzles long and deep. When she no longer feels parched, she pulls the drink away quickly, nearly throwing it down to the ground and slamming it in front of her at the same time. But then she simply lets it slide out of her hands absentmindedly. While this is taking place, she gasps a sigh of relief, and catches her breath… “ahhhh….”. Then it’s back to work at the farm.

I think I’ll go get a drink myself…

Paige Avenue (or something like it)

It used to be that the main street leading from Rt-170 to our house on Gulf was a thoroughfare of complexes, warehouses and meaningless industry. But now it’s something more. Now it’s a passageway. For some it’s the passageway that leads from one major road to the next. For others it’s the space in between here and there. But for me it’s the passage from one world to the next. It’s the gateway to my home, and the entry into my land of solace. It’s the passage from what’s “out there” to what’s “in here”. It’s the entrance to a land of love, and of debates, a land of hope… and of growth. It’s the passage to a land where my Queen awaits me and my little Princess dances. It’s the passage to the Red Station, our home away from all that we’ve since called “home”.

It’s those around us that make this place a place of significance. Here, our little one continues to flourish and grow. She has long since discovered the wonder of existence. And now she is plagued with the obstinate power of discovery. It holds her, keeps her from sleeping and drags her eyes to every corner of the place. She rolls everywhere she can, but her mobility seems more an accidental side effect of dangerously focused play than any intentional exploration. Her playtime is almost always colored by squeals, sputters, screams, babbles, kicks and clapping. She digs deep into her overturned toy-basket to rediscover old treasures. While she drinks milk from her bottle, she examines, with careful consideration, her fingers and hands. Her feet and toes are no less a wonder to her mouth. Her sippy cup is her new best friend; she has learned quickly to drink water from it.

These experiences are her joy, but they are our delight. It’s what makes Red Station a home, instead of a house. It’s her mother’s love—both for her and for her father—that fills me with joy. It’s the love of this place that makes the portal through Paige more than a four-lane road. It’s what makes the industrial barrenness beautiful to me.

vegas

here's a few pics from our vegas trip. i hope to post more on the photobucket account soon. for now, here's what you see: dad huzzard gettin' funky on the dance floor (not alcohol induced), vegas at night, hoover dam, our hotel: Hyatt Regency Lake Las Vegas

home for a time...

i'm home in MD...for a time. it has been GREAT to have a break from classes, although i think i'll be ready to get back into the groove next month. Maia's had a blast with all her relatives. at least thats how it seems... and her relatives have had a great time with her.

flying in was not the easiest thing. maia just wanted to look around and greet the passengers of our small plane. she was tired, but sleep just wouldn't come. about forty minutes outside of Philly, we began our descend on the city of brotherly love. it was then that maia saw fit to stop her fretting. all spread out before us was the blackness of night burning with infinite number. the plane tilted and the ground became our night sky. the incandescent stars below wooed her to themeselves. a snapshot embedded into her father's skull, sure to remain for many years after.

slowly we began our landing. it would be the beginning of many adventures. reuniting with loved ones, deepening relationships, and several restless nights and late car rides to encourage a young child to sleep. we have shared many meals, smiles, conversations and laughs. soon we must return to our alternate reality called st. louis.

so to those whom we were unable to greet, we wish you many blessings. and if you did not receive our Christmas newsletter, but would like a copy, please drop a line and let me know. we'd love to hear from you.

(see more photos @ www.seilback.com under "matt and kelli")

"home"

almost certainly our church home for st. louis:
http://www.crossroadspres.com

great song. notice also the journal entry, by Loreena McKennitt, below the lyrics.

http://www.xs4all.nl/~josvg/cits/lm/lorecd88.html