Little Family in the Big City: May 2011

Monday, May 30, 2011

Writers' Theatre

Writer's Theater, originally uploaded by jasonchristopherlittle.

What is this strange photo? It is the set of the Writers' Theatre 's production of The Detective's Wife. In a tiny black box style theater, books are suspended from the ceiling from invisible fishing line. They absorb the audience into an intense one woman drama which is part mystery, part spiritual meditation, and part character study. Written by Keith Huff (who some of you may know as the writer of the award winning series Mad Men), the play is intense but absorbing. Jason and I saw it last night with Keith Huff sitting only a few seats away from us! This tiny theater is regularly written up in the New York Times. I was so excited to finally get a chance to go after hearing so much about this famous theater. Hidden in the back of a little independent bookstore only ten minutes from our house, this underwhelming venue surprised me in its lack of ostentation. But the simplicity of the design only highlights the unbelievable quality of the show. Let me take this opportunity to encourage you- go see a play. The energy and life that comes from a real person/people delivering the acting in all its sweat, energy, and 'in the momentness' will be such a different experience from going to movie. And if you go...tell me about your experience. I think the more you go the more you'll want to go!

Happy Memorial Day!

I hope you had a relaxing day...

a day to remember those who serve and those who served in lands far away.

We did.

After days of rain and cold the sun finally shines today.

We celebrate our weekend houseguest (we are ONLY the babysitters)...

whose name is "Whoopie Pie" (don't ask).

We hit the beach.

The Bikes.

And the Pool!

And even though there are still two more weeks of school...

and probably (well, definitely) some more chilly days...

we feel like summer poked her head in the door.

And just in case you forgot...

this Memorial Day...

Sunday, May 22, 2011

A Day in White and Black

A Morning in WHITE begins at 7am as I drive to my first CNA (Certified Nurse Assistant) clinical in an urban nursing home. Donning oversized, over bleached white scrubs and a braid I enter the government supported nursing home. Within the first hour I hear Korean, Spanish, Arabic, Filipino, and some island language I can't identify- and these not only from the residents but from my fellow classmates. I learn to make a bed, give a shower, play Bingo, and remind an Alzheimer's resident to take a bite of food after forgetting that he just took one. It is not glorious work. The curse of death stares me in the face as I see the cruelty of aging on the mind and the body. The knowledge that creation is groaning for Christ's return under the evil enemy of death is painfully present in all its smells, aches, shouts, and even apathy from some who work around these aging weak ones. So, when Stuart says in Sunday School today, "Christ died not to just save our souls but to save our bodies as well, " I get it. His Spirit groans with us waiting for our full redemption. In a way we are not so different from these weak ones whose bodies and minds are bearing the painful realities of living as dying people in a dying world. But in these things there is hope. We know we will be raised because Christ has been raised. The ancient Christians said that we should NOT say "look what this world has come to!" but rather we should proclaim "Look Who has come to this world!."

After a quick shower and a thorough scrub I trade my running shoes for heels and my white scrubs for a little black dress to begin an Evening in BLACK with my honey! Jason and I are the guests of some of our neighbors at a fundraising gala at the Field Museum downtown. What does a gala look like? Lots of ties and black dresses. A chicken dinner. Some money raised for an organization that provides homes for homeless mothers and their children. Wine. More wine. An auction. Meeting new people. Having a great time! And I can't help but wonder at the complexity of this world, of one twenty four hour day, of the twists and turns of life, and of injustice and grace. But I do know that Christ's work has been accomplished. That, in Him, we pilgrims will travel from the valley of the shadow of death to His feast table where we will stand in our glorious new bodies free from sin and death...and party.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

A Night with the Pentecostals

"Brothers and Sisters. Sometimes God TURNS UP THE HEAT in our lives."
"Amen."
"Hallelujah."
"That's right."
"Say it, preacher."
(with an even louder voice) "But I'm here to tell you today that GOD is in control of your thermostat!"
"Hallelujah."
"That's right."
"Speak it, Preacher."
"Sometimes he calls us to the fire. But I'm here today to tell you that GAAWWD is REfining you. Like gold, brothers and sisters, that you will be more like him."
"Preach."
"That's right, brother."
"Amen."
"Hallelujah."

Last night I had the privilege of attending church with my friend Anne. Anne is from Belize. She has worked on the North Shore as a nanny for almost twenty years. She currently works for the family of one of Eleanor's best Kindergarten buddies. Anne is a Christian, and she is my friend. We have gotten to know one another through shared play dates and mutually depending on one another's help both for friendship and help with the girls. I told Anne that some day I'd like to go to church with her. Last week she invites me to attend the first night of her church's revival.

I drive down to the city and park only a short 2 1/2 miles from our neighborhood. But, despite being only a few El stops apart, our neighborhoods are worlds away. I've been told that, except for Haiti and Miami, Chicago has the largest population of Haitians in the world. Anne's church is a humble storefront with four flags behind the pulpit- a Haitian, an United States, a Belizean, and a Jamaican. There are no bulletins- too expensive to print. There is no heat- too expensive to pay for the gas (yes, we are still running the heat in Chicago). Anne is waiting for me on the curb when I pull up to park. A young girl steps out of the convenience store next door and Anne greets her warmly. She walks away and Anne tells me, "Her mother died last year. Shot. A stray bullet went through her car window. Caught in the cross fire of gangs. She had leukemia, but, well, I guess she never had to worry about paying for the doctor. A bullet got her first." I'm not really sure how to respond.

We enter the church. While I'm warmly welcomed I'm also aware of being noticed for being different, and I can't help but wonder, "Is this how Anne feels everyday standing in the Kindergarten playground...the only black face in a sea of white suburban housewives?."

The service doesn't begin until an hour after the scheduled time. There is a guest preacher from South Chicago who says in his welcome, "Thank you for welcoming a preacher up from the Hood." I guess everything is relative. After some seriously loud singing, clapping, tambourine playing, and praying the guest preacher is invited to the pulpit. And he begins to preach. His wife is in the second row offering a steady stream of "That's right!" and "Come on, Preacher!." I begin to contemplate trying this at Grace. Maybe it'd get Jason going.

As the clock nears 10pm he is still preaching with everyone still actively listening. I lean over to Anne and tell her that Jason is probably starting to worry, and I should go home. Driving home I can't help but be amazed at God- at the complexity of His church, His people, His diversity in the nations. And I can't help but be awed at the timely message from a lively South Chicago preacher about being faithful in trials. It is an 'ah hah!' moment as I realize not only God's goodness to me and to others, but I realize how diverse and huge this city is to which He has called us. I may live in the elite North Shore, but my home can be this entire city. There are millions of people, cultures, and opportunities to serve. It is exciting really. I look forward to exploring the infinite opportunities available to us, and I realize with joy the blessing- a blessing I might have never chosen on my own- which has been dropped in my life.

And some good news...we signed a two year lease this morning. On July 1st we will be moving to a 2 bedroom/2bath condo two blocks from the girls' school. It is going to mean some simplifying, but we think it is also going to mean some freedom. It is fresh, new, and has lots of space. We are excited, thankful, and looking forward to being settled for a few years. Thank you for all your prayers, notes, calls, and love. I appreciate you all!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Vintage Chicago Photography

PHOTOGRAPH: COURTESY OF THE MALOOF COLLECTION

Today I stumble upon this great article in Chicago Magazine (via a totally unrelated food blog I love 101cookbooks.com ) about a photographer who decades ago was a nanny right here on the North Shore. Her name was Vivian Maier. According to Chicago Magazine writer Nora O'Donnell,

"The North Shore families who hired Vivian Maier as a nanny came to know a kind but eccentric woman who guarded her private life and kept a huge stash of boxes. A chance discovery after her death by a man named John Maloof has spotlighted her secret talent as a photographer and led to a growing appreciation of her vast work."

The photographs are wonderful. I love the way she captures people and the spirit of this city in an era I can only read about it. Makes me feel a bit more endeared to the place looking at these photos. Read the article and see her photos at Chicago Magazine, "The Life and Work of street photographer Vivian Maier."

Friday, May 13, 2011

Sea Glass and Pebbles

Chicago and Mother Nature have a volatile relationship.

One minute the air is a muggy 83 degrees. But in the amount of time it takes to drink a cup of coffee the temperature will drop to 48 degrees.

Really, like in fifteen minutes.

Yesterday was a gift from above.

An entire day of warm humidity and warm temperatures. The girls and I stole a quick hour at the lake after school before trading in our flip flops for fleece today.

I'm pretty sure that children must have a different internal temperature.

Within five minutes they both were waist deep in water that is measuring about 48 degrees.

Brrrrrrrr !!!!!!

We hunted for treasures.

And smiled a lot.

Which was good.

**I temporarily removed the following passage because I began to feel insecure about being so self exposed on the internet. But then I thought, "Who cares? No one has to read this blog, and the people who do read it do care and hopefully they don't judge." So, I put it back...and the comments too. Thank you ,my dear readers, for letting me process my life through this silly thing we call a blog. It helps, and I appreciate you. - Caroline

I was beginning to adjust to rapid change and to call this Midwestern city home...until this week.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of the day Jason and I flew to Chicago for his interview with Grace. It marks the one year anniversary since I took a thirty minute shower at the Doubletree Hotel waiting for the tears to stop flowing from my overly salted eyes. I remember, in a moment of profound rationality during that shower, reasoning that maybe prostitution would be a good option if it enabled us to stay in Portland. I mean, Jesus loved the hookers too, right? Jason wasn't so excited about the idea. So we accept with gratitude a wonderful job at an incredible church and are thankful.

Then the one year anniversary hits. And our landlord says he wants to raise our rent. We say no. He says, "Ok. I'm going to sell the house." Within days a sign is in our yard, realtors are calling, strangers are stepping over my bras to see the bathroom, and I begin to relive the emotions of doing all of this last May.

It probably wasn't the best decision for my emotional health to choose this week to go to the DMV to finally get my Illinois driver's license. After two hours of waiting and testing a state employee says, while dropping my Oregon license into the shredder, "Give me a pretty smile and look at the camera!." In minutes I'm handed a new red Illinois license with a picture of a puffy eyed lady wearing a pissed off smile staring back at me from the shiny new license. Great.

I admit it, I've got what Saturday night live calls "white people problems." I've got a great husband who has a good job, two healthy children, and great schools. Only problem is we've got no home as of June 30th. This wouldn't be a big deal if we didn't have two small children happily enrolled in their neighborhood school and who don't need to be uprooted a year after we pulled them away from their friends to move across the country.

Someone said to me this week, "I mean, you could be an African woman in Rwanda who is worrying about your children's hands being cut off with a machete." True. I could. And maybe I'd have a lot more faith and know Jesus better. Or maybe I'd just be really angry. But I'm not. Nor do I have cancer, a bad marriage, or a husband away at war. There is always a "what if" or a "you could be as bad off as that person." But does that negate the stress of our lives that each of us face? No. Not really. Our own struggles are still there, our own questions, our own tears.

So what do we do with that stress? Our anger with God? How do we have faith in the mundane day to day struggle of walking by faith? Is this life one long lesson in letting go of this life?

And then I look at these smiling beautiful pictures of my girls looking for 'treasures' at the lake yesterday. Do I have eyes to look for the beautiful in what is in front of me? Do I pray for new landscapes or for new eyes to see the one in which I am?

If you've read this far into my whiny navel gazing, thank you. And I ask for your prayers for a home for us, one in which we can keep some stability for our children by keeping them in their school. Because this spoiled rotten white girl is tired.