Catching Up

I've been avoiding writing. Any other person who writes tells me that they do this too; they also weirdly avoid the very thing that they are good at. The very thing that clears my head demands so much of my energy to produce a mindless, tiny amount. Ack! I've definitely struggled with that this year. It's not that I don't have a lot to say, or that a lot isn't going on in my life, or that God isn't moving, but I kind of buckle underneath the effort that it takes. I think a lot of that energy and anxiety comes from the pressure of the need to have writing be good. Now, I suppose that I want to write well. But I don't want to avoid acting for fear of not acting perfectly. So this post is the act of me just writing to catch up and break the non-writing funk I have going currently. Here are a few pictures from this winter that have stuck out to me.

Ah, Dad. What a guy. Living in the Chicago area has its beautiful moments, but I miss my parents, man! This is from a weekend in December when they came to church and then out to brunch. I cherish those days. 

Okay my kids rock. So much so that they are moved to tears by how much they love to read. It's moving, really. 

Well aren't we just full of Christmas cheer! This was the day before break and I died laughing. 

Brian and I, back at the scene of the crime. Here we're standing on the very spot where we made our wedding vows to each other about 18 months ago. 

Annnnd this. Oh people. Vote for someone, just not for Donald Trump. And stop being weird about it on Facebook. Please and thanks. 

There you have it, guys! I did it! I blogged! Ah. I feel better already. 

 

Round Table

This year's Thanksgiving was spent with my in-laws. Their celebration is a far cry from a crowded house, buffet style animal eating, paper plates, and card tables. With a smaller crew, we all fit around one table (my first time not at a kid's table was after I got married!), and we get to use real silverware! The nice kind, even! My mother-in-law, Beth, worked herself crazy for 24 hours straight to prepare the most ridiculously delicious spread. I was all like CHEESE! WINE! MEATBALLS! POTATOES! SWEET POTATOES! AHHHH! everywhere I looked. I particularly get spoiled with the first two in that list at my in-laws' home.

When we were all sitting around the table, the food coma almost starting to kick in, my father-in-law directed the conversation to a Round Table. He asked 3 questions of the table, and each person took turns responding. I thought they were very thoughtful.

1. What are you thankful for this year?
2. What are some goals you have for this year?
3. If you could change anything about yourself or the world, what would it be? 

The goals for this year ranged from hilarious (Nanny, Brian's grandma, simply blurted: "Survive!") to practical (Beth wants to be healthier, as if she isn't already putting us all to shame with her paleo lifestyle) to heartfelt (Ed wants to be aware of God's grace each day, particularly by always setting aside devotional time).

Earlier in the day, I chatted with my dad and got some group texts from my immediate family about the Packers (don't even pretend you weren't weeping when Bart Starr and Brett Favre hugged before the game), saying thanks for each other, and sharing pictures of crazy indulgent Thanksgiving spreads.

How is this my life? How is all this mine? I haven't really unraveled just how blessed I am. I just was overwhelmed with the people in my life yesterday. People who are open, kind, thankful for each other, generous, funny, and intentional with these days and milestones in life. Of course each year, as we switch between families, one of us will miss being home, but when you have such wonderful in-laws, it's got to be the next best thing. The coolest thing is that we are home no matter which family we're present with on each holiday. Brian's a son in my family, and I'm a daughter in his.

I shared my answers at the table, so here are my 3 responses.

1. What are you thankful for this year? First, for Brian. For being a fantastic husband, being a great buddy to spend all the mundane and exciting and frustrating and happy days with. For supporting me and making me think. I also said my fantastic parents and siblings. I know a lot of people with horribly hurtful families, and of course we are not perfect, but I could not have asked for better. I continued on to my in-laws, who have just opened up a spot for me and accepted me as I am. I can't join in on those "my crazy mother-in-law" rants, because mine is thoughtful and sweet and not a control freak and a great friend. Basically, my thankfulness this year is for all these sweet and wonderful people.

2. What are your goals for this year? I have a few outlined each year during my birthday, so I'm working on those continually. Right now, I've started my goal of watching every Seinfeld episode in chronological order and making plans to visit Harry Potter World. Less importantly, I want to run a half marathon this year.

3. If you could change anything about yourself or the world, what would it be? This is that big question that always brings me to the same answer. The thing I would change is that justice would really happen, that it would really roll down like a stream for forever. That all that junk about what you look like, what zip code or country you're born into, what culture your family is from, would never hinder us from loving one another. That we would have those goggles to see each other as God sees us, that we would look at the heart. God infamously picks the left out, too old, too young, too poor, oppressed people to be great. I wish we all had more of that first-shall-be-last-and-last-shall-be-first conviction in our hearts as we govern societies, live intentionally, and decide how we're going to serve God in this world.

It was a very moving Round Table this year. If it sounds cheesy, it wasn't cheesy at all. It was great. And as much as we love our families, I know that it can be the hardest to be vulnerable and share from the heart with the ones who know you and love you the most. The more we practice this sharing, the more we open up to each other, I think the easier it will be to see the best in everyone.

Better Things Are Ahead

My Grandpa Gesch died this summer. My dad's dad. I haven't been able to write about it or talk about it much, because it hurts to think about it for too long. I know that avoidance is not the best way to deal with death, but it's unfortunately the method to which I'm drawn. Those two, Grandma and Grandpa Gesch, are pillars in my life. Protectors and leaders and spiritual giants that raised me right along with my parents. Carpool drivers and babysitters, devotional readers and scrabble game players, they are forever a part of who I am and who I want to be.

One of the most routine memories of my grandparents is one of the sweetest for me. I played soccer all through my childhood for my town's team. I was the only girl on my team for my fourth grade year, and loved meeting all the neighborhood kids that I didn't get to play with at school. Being somewhat of the odd one out who attended Christian school a town away in Oostburg, I had to take the bus home and get a ride to soccer practice each week while my parents were working. I'd hop off the bus, bike or walk a few blocks to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and sit down at the table where a stack of oreos, a glass of milk, and my two-person fan club awaited me. They'd ask about my day, update me on their walk to the post office, and generally just chat about life. I'd often lose focus and forget that an oreo was soaking in the glass of milk while we talked, so Grandma would go fetch me an extra cookie to dip in and save the other that had floated to the bottom on a rescue mission. After that, I'd change into my cleats and Grandpa would drive me to practice, with a hearty "Go get 'em!" yelled out the window as I sprinted out to join my team on the field.

I think of all they went through and all they accomplished, all the people they had in their lives, and here they were interested in a chat with me, a regular old 10-year-old kid, over a stack of oreos and a glass of milk. That's why I loved our weekly rituals so much; to them, I was worthy of stopping the day for their full attention. They helped me learn how to make people feel important.

When I think of my grandparents I think of puzzles, board games, a never-ending-scrabble tournament (Grandpa always quick to point out that Grandma was way ahead in the standings), and a two-a-day program of reading the Bible together. I think of kindness toward one another and a marriage based on true friendship and simple joy. I think of five brilliant boys that turned out to be my dad and uncles, how they raised the perfect guy to be my dad one day.

I think of being friendly to everyone because it's the right thing to do, and taking the higher road even if others choose to dwell in mires of gossip and judgment. I think of correspondence and encouragement, support and involvement. I think of musical talent, appreciation of nature, time spent in the workshop, and praying in German before lots and lots of meals spent together. I think of interest in other cultures, languages, and just a pure love of people. I think about a love of learning that never stops for an entire long lifetime.

I think about positivity and gumption and constant joking around. I think about that unending energy paired along with a slant towards understanding sadness and loss, too. My grandparents taught me that it's okay to have both sides of that coin very much alive in your life. I learned that it's okay to be a walking contradiction sometimes in that way. They were the first to teach me the lesson that as a follower of God you don't need to have it all together. They taught me one of my favorite truths in my life: that it's okay to not be okay. You don't need to be flawless on your own. God's grace is enough for it all.

I think about daily faithfulness and love and prayer and hard work and discipline and joy and family. All those good things.

I am such a blessed person, to have these themes as a part of the legacy I inherit. I consider myself to be so rich in all the best things: people, heritage, and faith. This is what I owe to my Grandpa and Grandma.

I don't know what heaven will really be like, but one of the cheesy things that I like to imagine is a kitchen table on linoleum flooring where my two grandparents are back at their rounds of scrabble, shared meals, and daily devotionals. When I'm extra cheesy, I like to imagine a spot saved for me with a stack of oreos and a glass of milk.

I don't know if God created heaven to be like that.

I do know this: If it isn't like what I imagine, He will have designed it to be something even 
better.
  

The Big Sixty

The first whole weekend of my summer was spent in the best kind of way: with my big, crazy family. We celebrated my grandma and grandpa reaching 60 years of marriage together. 60 admittedly imperfect, but good years. Let me tell you about this group of people and why they're so special to me.



I could go on about how this huge, ever-growing mass of humanity called the VanDrunen family (also dubbed by my grandma as "Yous Kids") is a godly, straight-and-narrow bunch that never messes up. I could say how they're all perfect Christian examples. But then I'd be lying. The best part of this family? They're real! We mess up! We aren't perfect! And that imperfection is what makes me so glad to be a part of the crew. They give me the freedom to truly live, to mess up, and still be welcomed just like anyone else.

You see, there are some clans that put pressure on their kids, worry about appearances to the outside world, and shun any dissenters in their own group who veer to the right or to the left. Not this family, though. This bunch has found a way to have an incredible character and an unflinching backbone, yet live out the acceptance and compassion that can only come from Jesus.

We are far from perfect. We do things we regret. We make mistakes, big and small. But the cool thing? This family, to me, is a testament that the joy in a Christian life is not about the righteousness of ourselves; we find joy in the righteousness of God. When it's God's job to be sovereign, in control, and perfect, that frees me up to  just sit back, smile, and say thank you with my life each day.



I've learned so many things from this family. I can't take credit for any of these ideas, I just stole them from watching everyone else live out their daily walk with Jesus. Here are a few.

Believe in people. See the best in them. They will rise to meet your expectations.

Be positive.

Open your home (and table!) to anyone who needs it.

God reveals himself in all denominations, cultures, and people groups. Our family may be mostly Dutch, but we know that our God surely isn't confined to that.

Don't be afraid to change. 

Stand by your family. That means through birth or in-laws by marriage. Bad-mouthing the in-laws only hurts yourself. Think of them as your own brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers.

Forgive each other.

Respect your elders.

Aurelio's is the only option for pizza.

Your promises mean something. Back up what you say.

Show up for the people in your life.

Go through the valleys with the people you love. Don't shy away from grief just because it's uncomfortable. Those are the times that bond you together.

Tell people you will pray for them, and then actually go do it.

Eat together.

Every person is valuable.

Be kind to your friends.

Stay humble, because we are where we are only by the grace of God. Don't look down on anyone, because we are all capable of sin and struggle. We're all the same in God's eyes.

Celebrate life, because we have a good God!

(Oh, and one more thing: do goofy things together. See video for evidence.)

 

Unshakable

About a month ago, I had the privilege to be a guest at Beth's (my mother-in-law!) ministry group's retreat. She started a women's ministry, called Woven, with two of her best friends. They are the cutest three ladies ever and also some of the smartest. I was never the "women's ministry" kind of person in the past, not for any reason in particular other than ignorance. I've never actually been on a retreat with any church in my adulthood since high school, so I had no idea what this weekend would be like. I'm so thankful I was able to go.

I was invited there along with Rachel and Michal, two of my favorites, as we listened to Beth and her friends, Julie and Kim, lead us in thinking and praying and sharing. (Two years ago, I didn't know any of the three people in the picture below. Now, I consider them all to be my family. How cool is that?!) It was so good to be alongside of them.

The weekend's theme was Unshakable. The whole idea, or at least what I took away from it, was to ponder the times in life when we are shaken, even in those first-world-problem ways like anxiety and discontent (because those are extremely real storms to weather nonetheless!), and how to position ourselves spiritually in a posture of readiness and gratefulness for any storm we experience, in light of the reality of who God is. I think it is a beautiful thing to talk about. Anyone can list off the Proverbs 31 cliches, call it a Women's Bible study, and make us feel endlessly guilty about not measuring up. I think it is incredible when someone can drop the fronts and get honest about the hard things. The things that suck. The things we can't explain or don't want to explain or can't face. I love that our God is concerned with flailing, struggling, shaken people. It's kind of awesome to acknowledge that not measuring up is sort of part of the gig of all human beings, and that the only one who can fix anything happens to be the one who endlessly loves us and holds the world in his hands.

One of the coolest parts of the whole shebang was the feature of a Prayer Room. The room was centered around Psalm 46 (...which was read at our wedding! ...and one of my all time favorites!) and was so timely for me. I think it was timely for our world too. The mountains can be shaking, nations can be in uproar, kingdoms can be falling, and we, little old us? We need only to be still. We need only to know who God is. In the end, it seems, knowing God is what this is all about. Knowing God helps us orient ourselves to understand who we are, why we're here, and allows us a small view into redemption beyond terrible things like cancer, depression, fights, hurt, death, and sorrows.

Beth said herself that this weekend, though titled Unshakable, does not mean you actually won't be shaken, as if you could rise above emotion or experience. In fact, we are all guaranteed that we'll be shaken in this life. To me, being unshakable is knowing that outward chaos does not mean God can't grant me a peaceful heart.

You guys? These days, when we're hearing news about armies taking over, lives cut short, kids going hungry, and hate and evil gaining ground on every side, isn't it is so, so good to know where you stand? And on whose rock you stand? You stand with the one who will break every bow, shatter every spear, and end every war. All conflict melts away at his voice.

I know the One on whom I stand. I am so thankful to have people in my life that remind me of Him.

Gimme a Break

I. LOVE. BEING. ON. BREAK.

It is so so so great. So great, in fact, that this break has felt like 42 seconds long to me. The past week has gone by so quickly that I really can't believe it's been a regulation-length-week. We've been to Philadelphia, back to Chicago, up to Libertyville, further up to Cedar Grove, back down to Lansing, up again to Chicago, and now tonight I finally sit next to Brian on our couch in Villa Park, nagging him to attend to writing letters of recommendation for his students. I'm not much better, as I have plenty of unit planning and resource-hunting on my to-do list that is being ignored in its own right. We're pretty exhausted, burned out, and ready to finally sleep in for once, but it has been an awesome 8 days thus far. While looking back makes it all seem like a blur, there are great themes that stick out in my mind, defining the chaos of event after event a little more clearly into focus. It mostly all revolves around family.

I got to see Philadelphia, where Brian grew up until he was 14. One goofy part of that trip was a trip to the Xfinity Live! sports bar that quite the spectacle. We went there to watch the Eagles game (pronounced egg-uhlz) with a few of his cousins. All I can say that it was a land flowing with beer and nachos, complete with the scantily clad cheerleaders (I let my own feminist statement be known about the cheerleaders before we proceeded to watch most of the game...) and rowdy fans. It explained a lot about what it means to be a sports fan in Philly, which really addresses what it means to be a human in Philly. They are passionate about their sports. We also got a tour of Delaware County Christian School, the school in Pennsylvania where Brian attended from Kindergarten through 8th Grade. It has a beautiful campus, a great history, and a solid foundation. I love the school where I teach, and it's encouraging to see brilliant people putting their talents toward helping kids discover who they were made to be. That "great cloud of witnesses" line comes to mind when I have experiences like this. My in-laws met on that campus (high school sweethearts!), Brian's grandma used to work in the office there, Brian's aunt taught second grade there, and he and lots of his family members received an awesome foundation as students there. The current head of school at DCC used to be Brian's professor at Wheaton, so it was cool to get an inside look at a place so important to Brian's formation. The best part of the trip, by far, was spending time with the Whartnaby clan. We had a Christmas party, ate lots of chicken parmesan, and made great memories. The whole trip out east was really great for me. I got to connect with my new aunts, uncles, and cousins, but I also got to have a bigger perspective of who my husband is. I could really get a good vibe of where his roots began, thanks to the many driving tours my father-in-law provided through the different suburbs and city of Philadelphia. I love that being married means discovering more and more about the man I married with each milestone and month that passes. It only makes me love him more.

Not only were we able to see the east coast family, it was a busy week of family goodness at our midwest Christmases. We did Christmas Eve Whartnaby-style with a nativity play at their church and dinner at the neighbors' house. (I'm finding that Italian families do holiday food in the best possible way. Can you say lobster pasta, king crab, and wine all around?) Late that night we jetted up to Wisconsin for Christmas Day with my family, where my heart was full to see both of my siblings, my sisters-in-law, and Sawyer and Xander all together with my parents for Christmas morning. The last time we were all together was at the wedding, and it felt so good to all be together again. I got to see my Grandpa Gesch, Great Aunt Nelda open their presents, right next to little Xander, playing with his latest Ninja Turtle present. I heard it said in church this morning how we often spend the holidays distracted and distant, when it is just the time to be grounded and focused on the main things. This Christmas, spent surrounded by my family, helped ground me in gratitude for the blessings I have in my life. I surely don't want to take them for granted. So while this break has been hectic, it's definitely been worth it. I'll be spending the last few days of 2014 reading, sleeping, and catching up on life, thinking about the last week with a smile on my face.

 

Do Life Big!

Rudi, Steph, Sawyer, and Xander moved to New Jersey over the summer (the day after our wedding!)  to follow a job opportunity for my brother that came up out of the blue. While I of course, selfishly, wanted them to stay within a few minutes' drive from my apartment, I am so happy to see the amazing things happening in their lives and in Rudi's job as well. He's having a blast over there and here is just one small part of that. Check out the video of Eastern Christian students loving God through loving life. I dare you not to smile.

hAUNTS.

I have a cool family. I think what makes them cool is the fact that they don't care at all if they are actually cool.

Last weekend, Brian and I drove two hours into the deep nowhere-ness of Indiana for a little family reunion out in the fresh air and wilderness. My VanDrunen (mom's) side all descended on a town of Morocco Indiana to a location that doesn't actually show up on a GPS or Google Maps app. Brian said he felt like Billy Crystal in City Slickers, and I kind of had to agree that he was right. At the end of a long gravel road, we turned the (now filthy) car into the driveway of my uncle Wayne's property where over 40 people gathered to shoot guns, drive four wheelers and gators, have barrel races, roast marshmallows, and catch up with people you love. Most people camped or slept in the barn. The Gesches (my parents) and Whartnabys (how do you spell the pluralized Whartnaby?! Whartnabies? Gahhh) preferred the Holiday Inn Express. I was happy with our choices.

I am not one to love the whole ATV/four-wheeler thing, as I am the child of an insurance agent and too many horror stories of broken necks, paralysis, and death are associated with the outdoor vehicle thing. My dad was with me on this one. My mom, on the other hand, LOVED it and was on an ATV within about 4.32 seconds of arriving on the premises. I think their stance on four-wheelers reveals a lot about the differences between my parents, but that must be unpacked at another time and place.

I got to see Karley and Liz and that just filled my heart with happiness. If I could create a world where they were my neighbors, available for morning walks to the coffee shop and bakery, on call to stop over after work for a beer, or accessible for a grocery-shopping buddy, I would do it in a heartbeat. I just can't figure out how to fold the map and meld the topography so that Hudsonville, Michigan, Dyer, Indiana, and Villa Park, Illinois are in the same cul-de-sac. Frustrating.

Perhaps the highlight of the weekend happened when, mysteriously, all of the aunts and uncles left the nieces and nephews alone in the barn. We were all hanging out, chatting and snacking, when we realized that our parents had all left us. When we tried to leave the barn, a grandma was set at her post to inform us that we weren't allowed to leave. It was a surprise.

A half hour later, my Uncle Dyke (Karley's dad) in his hilarious fashion took all of Yous Kids out in front of the bonfire with a flashlight in front of his face. He proceeded to tell the tale of Scarecrow Joe, who had his head lopped off by some hooligan teenagers. Ever since then, "around this time of year, and around this time of night" Scarecrow Joe would go around with a chainsaw, cutting people's heads off and trying them on to see if it fits. Legend has it, my uncle said, that Scarecrow Joe has not found a head that he likes the fit of yet, so he's still shopping around. Then we were told to follow him into the pitch black woods.

Along the path were demented Miss Piggies, Scream grim reapers, Zombie freaks, and others all leading to the finale of a crazed clown with a chainsaw. We knew it was our aunts and uncles, and it didn't matter. I was freaked out. My poor uncle Mike was just playing along with his skeletor costume and ended up getting a pretty hefty punch in the shoulder from me, after which I stole his weapon away from him and pointed it at him instead. It was a plastic glow-in-the-dark knife, but for some reason I felt the need to disarm this creature. Sorry, Mike. It was instinct. Must be the West Side part of me that still is on the alert at all times.

Either way, it was scary and hilarious and awesome. What kind of family am I a part of? I am not nearly as much fun as everyone else; it just makes me happy to sit back and watch the joy unfold around me when we're all together. Brian commented how he loved that "Everyone is on-board with everything in this family. There isn't anyone ruining it by saying this is a dumb idea." Nobody is "too cool" for anything. I think that was a very true thing to say, and I love the on-board-ness that runs in my family. Even if it means making me perilously close to peeing my pants in fear.

On Being a Gesch: An Ode to my Last Name

Yesterday I sat in the Social Security Administration office waiting in line for 3 hours. This was the first step in changing my name over to Brian's, a step important to both of us when it comes to getting married. At first, I went with the idea of Anna Kathryn Whartnaby as my full name, dropping the old last name and replacing it with the new. The moment in our wedding when my hand was transferred from my dad's to Brian's to go up to the altar was the bittersweet picture of this. As I thought about changing my name, though, I couldn't let it go completely. I had to keep Gesch in there somehow, not as a hyphenated thing, but as my new middle name. So Anna Gesch Whartnaby it is. I had to keep it, because being a Gesch is a special thing. I'll try to explain.

Dancing with the guy who gave me the name in the first place. 

This is not everyone's experience in my family, it is solely my own, as I have the particular brand of Gesch-ness influenced by my parents, grandparents, siblings, and geography. There are so many things that go along with this title at the end of your name, and when I think of being a Gesch, I am so proud to be one. Here is a little bit of what it means to me.

1. When you are a Gesch, you have to know that you are pretty quirky and high strung. It's just one of those things that go along with the territory. You and your people are weirdly talented, but kind of like purebred animals, also a tad temperamental and nuanced. I have family members who are brilliant jazz pianists, historians, pigeon-raisers, writers, singers, trumpet players, artists, bow hunters, bicycle fixers, self-taught craftsmen and carpenters, hunting outfit guides, and a lot of preachers who never went to a day of class in a seminary, yet are delivering theologically layered sermons with the best of them. Walk into a room of Gesches and the subject of conversation can be anything from Shakespeare to shotguns, and you can believe there is a lot of incessant foot tapping, finger fidgeting, and coffee sipping as the debates or rants ensue. We're all just a tad uptight. 

2. When you are a Gesch, you have strict parents. It's just how it is. You hate it at 16, but are pretty grateful for it later on.

3. When you are a Gesch, you are painfully early to everything. You are overly punctual. Of course my wedding started 5 minutes early. My dad, meeting my mom and I at a restaurant for dinner a few weeks ago, showed up 45 minutes before the meeting time we agreed on and hung out in a booth, greeting other patrons and making conversation with our server. A Gesch tends to make friends with the custodial staff at various places of worship and business, because those are the only other humans present in these locations at such ridiculous hours. Gesches spend large potions of their lives waiting around awkwardly for things to begin. But it's okay, these kinds of lessons in delayed gratification build a lot of character, a virtue also incredibly important to the Gesches.

4. When you are a Gesch, you have learned from your family to be faithful and loyal. They stick with their local roots, spouse, family, and church. Of course we are not always perfect just like anybody, but this little area is very important to the clan. 

5. When you are a Gesch, you are a communicator. My grandma was famous in far off countries throughout the world for writing letters to missionaries on a consistent basis. We all tend to write in one way or another, and we definitely have the problem of talking too much. This means large vocabularies, stimulating discussions, and opinionated children articulately lobbying for later bedtimes (guilty as charged; I think the Brian Gesch clan's offspring was particularly strong in this area). It also means a necessity to do the whole foot-in-mouth thing every once in awhile due to the lack of filter between your brain and your mouth. Please forgive us, for we Gesches mean well. 

6. When you are a Gesch, you tend to get emotional in old age. We are a sentimental bunch. In my case, "old age" is the ripe, ancient year of 24, because I get teary-eyed every time I talk about my grandma, say goodbye to my parents, or hear Edie Ritsman sing anything in church.

7. When you are a Gesch, you are part of a friendly, handshaking crew. You meet new people all the time (probably other people who are early to events) and are well versed in the art of Meeting New People. Gesches bombard New People with talking too loud, enthusiastic yet random inquiries into cultural heritage, and invitations to Thanksgiving dinner celebrations so that other Gesches may Meet the New People.

8. When you are a Gesch, you sing. This is not optional. There is no question of whether or not you participate in church singing groups and choirs, it's just sort of assumed with your name that you will. You can always count on a Gesch to belt out the favorite hymns.

9. When you are a Gesch, you are sarcastic and witty. You laugh a lot as a Gesch, but it's a hard-achieved humor, one you have to work for. No easy laughs. Not much is easy-going in the life of a Gesch, but it is worth it to be present for a brilliant joke cracked by Uncle Jeff. 

10. When you are a Gesch, you're probably a teacher, married to a teacher, a sibling of a teacher, or born of a teacher in one way or another. All of those categories happen to apply to me. Being a Gesch means loving to learn and loving to help people learn. It means an odd talent for trivia games, episodes of Jeopardy, and any other form of quickly generating information. It also means having so many random and useless facts up in your brain that you have a hard time remembering other things, like where you put your keys. Or whether you turned off the oven. Things like that.

So that's why I couldn't let go of my wonderful last name, not altogether at least. I will always love the book hoarding, coffee stirring, muskrat trapping, small town loving, churchgoing people who raised me and the values they instilled in my life, no matter how quirky that might make me. I look forward to seeing what it means to be a Whartnaby, and even helping define what that means in our own family unit with Brian and I. When I look at my name, my whole name, I will still get to see Gesch right there in the middle. And I am very proud of that. 

WhirlyFamily

I love the fam. Gotta say it. On Saturday my brother Rudi got together 13 of the cousins to play Whirlyball on Saturday morning followed by pizza and pop (we don't call it soda down here in Chicago apparently) and it was all just fabulous.

Ever since I've known that Brian was "the one" it's really special to me whenever he can see my family doing what my family does best: being friends. Somehow, I think, it helps me to help him understand the girl he is with a little better. We had a blast and hung out afterward for lunch, then went our separate ways. We're all basically in our twenties and thirties now, but that childhood bond is just growing up right along with us. The two hours together went by way too quickly, but I love these kinds of times and I love this kind of togetherness.

Muchas Gracias

Ah. Today is Thanksgiving. Memories of weird turkey plays from second grade flood my mind with every utterance of the holiday's name. What a great day. People together, eating, talking, napping, and generally being happy and content. It makes my soul feel good. I have 5 things to share today that I am thankful for. Usually I'm a little more snarky and creative, but in all seriousness, this year I am just plain humbled at all the good things in my life. I write my list every year and would love to read yours too.

I am thankful for...

1. Wisconsin. I've always missed Wisconsin when I'm away, but this year my home state holds a particularly special place in my heart. There is an understood something when I tell people in the city that I'm from Wisconsin. It's like they already know I'm a certain kind of person when I say I'm from Wisconsin and they usually nod and smile. While I used to not want to be in anybody's mind any certain kind of person, I now wear that label with resolute pride. I love Chicago, don't get me wrong. But those people are right, there is something about being from Wisconsin. Something down-to-earth, something friendly, something blunt, something hick, and something human. I will always love Wisconsin.

2. My family. This is a generic thing for which to be thankful, but I am finding more and more that my family is a rare thing. I work with kids every day who don't have the support of a family like I do. I have that safety net below my feet, waiting to catch me the second I trip or even if I fall. I have people on my side, in my corner, on my team. As I'm growing up and figuring out where my life is going, one of the things I want above all others is to grow into a person who becomes a safety net for others. I learned what that looks like from my family. 

3. My MacBook Air. This is totally materialistic. I just finally replaced my old laptop on Tuesday and this new machine is a thing of beauty. I'm using it to put this post up, and I figured it was only fair to be very thankful for this too. Apple got me again. 

4. Christmas. I AM SO HAPPY THAT IT IS THE CHRISTMAS SEASON! Thanksgiving marks the switch from that November slump to December cheer and I am so thankful that it is finally here. With such a late Thanksgiving this year, I only have three weeks of teaching standing between me and sleeping in, wrapping presents, and ALL THE TWINKLE LIGHTS. I'm giddy already.

5. Last but definitely not least, I am thankful for Brian Whartnaby. And how great of a camera-sniper-victim that he is. Plus he puts up with my crazy fried self after I lose my mind from long days and weeks of teaching. I think I'll keep him around for awhile. 

Today...

...was a really, really good day. This is going to be a boring chronology of the events of my weekend, but I want to record it so I can remind myself at school next week that I really got to do all these leisurely things.

This was a ridiculous week for me at school. After last weekend of NO sleep thanks to my frat-boy-neighbors next door (ummm can the Ke$ha be at least turned to half volume after 3 am?), I spent the past 5 days going to bed at 8:45. It's reached that point, people. On top of the tiredness, my kids seem to have contracted cabin fever and want OUT of school NOW. The testing pressure is on with our standardized state tests coming up in the next two weeks. I'm packing the test prep in, they're acting up, and everybody just needs some fresh air in Room 22. It's time for this testing nonsense to be over. (Cue a rant about how I don't like it that seven-year-olds are taking high-stakes standardized tests.)

My cousin Scott and I strolling down Michigan Avenue

All that said, this weekend was my first in a long time without hectic plans. I had no clue what I'd do. On Friday I drove out to hang out with Rudi, Steph, and kids. Rudi, Soy, and I made our own performance of the three little pigs. Soy played all of the pigs (very dramatically I might add), Rudi was the big bad wolf, and I was the narrator. Then the kids went to bed and we watched stand-up comedy specials followed by a fabulous Blackhawks win on TV. I love nights like those.

We found these awesome tulips. Even in Chicago,
Packer Nation lives on.

Today I woke up and got brunch with Jen and her boyfriend (I ordered an amazing smoothie and I'm going back just for a repeat of that flavor explosion). Then I spent the afternoon with my cousin Scott who came downtown to see my place. I showed him around Pilsen as we walked to the train and went downtown to see the Picasso exhibit at the Art Institute. This guy is quality. (I'm referring to Scott when I say "this guy," not Picasso. After seeing his pieces and reading up on the history behind it all I'm realizing he was prettyyyy sly even as an old guy with like 592 mistresses.) I am reminded more and more each day of how blessed I am to have my family. Favorite new fact I learned about Scott today: he keeps a file cabinet at his desk full of his secret stash of snacks. Genius. 

Then I zipped down to Orland Park to shop with Miss Melanie Lawrence for her outfit for next weekend. (For some reason I have assumed the position of Mel's personal shopper. I'm not complaining.) Yes, folks, next weekend is THE bachelorette party for Karley Mae. We bummed around the mall, found her a dress, and ended our night with frozen yogurt. It's the best way to end any outing, in my opinion. She's an amazing teacher in a special education classroom and we swapped hilarious stories about our kids. I honestly wouldn't believe half the stuff she said if I didn't know from my own experience that all the chaos is totally real life. 

Weekends like these, full of the everyday, somehow fill me up like nothing else. I wish you all days like this. 

To and Fro

The past ten days have been a whirlwind of goodness, busy-ness (someone please cue me in on the proper spelling of the word that means the essence of being busy), and familyness. I finished up my last week of teaching in December (PRAISE!) and have officially enjoyed 4 days of my Christmas break...which by the way...the thing about Christmas break...

...is that it is awesome. Tomorrow I jet off to California to visit my dear friend Lauren (!!!!!!) for 6 days and am spending today catching up with some old friends, packing, and soaking up the last bit of Wisconsin on this break. On Friday the 21st, I drove straight up to Wisconsin from my school, only to drive back down to Chicago on Saturday the 22nd for family activities, only to drive back up to Wisconsin on the 24th for MORE family activities. Dang. Here is a chronology of pictures to tell you what I've been up to these past few days free from school and obligation.

The Morning Message (a daily tradition) last Thursday. So close to break! 

These came on Tuesday to my classroom on my lunch break. Gawgeous.

Home sweet home. Alex thought I looked J Crew worthy in my glasses.

Was going through papers to grade and found this gem.

Every year we go to the Ritsmans' house on Christmas Eve to play
an epic game of Risk. I stockpiled armies up in Siberia but I think
they got too chilly and didn't serve me well. 

A gift of a bundt pan and ingredients. I think
my mother is trying to send me a message. 

From my parents. 

You know you're in Wisconsin when Brandy and Milk combine for
a Christmas cocktail. Nutmeg on top made it delish.

SO. GOOD. I cried. 

This was in the foreward to the new book I'm reading, The Promise by
Chaim Potok. It is great so far. This is why books are so important.

My new favorite shirt. 

This poster was found while at a truck stop for breakfast.
There are no words. 

The Rents

So I like my parents.

The amazing sunset over my backyard on Saturday.

I'm getting to be at that stage. I've always loved my parents. Do not get me wrong. I consider myself one of the luckiest people alive with parents like mine. There are a lot of humans in this world who have sub-par parents and mine are definitely better than par. Like way better. They are so intelligent, creative, funny, friendly, and wise. While I've always loved them, I didn't always like them. I had those stupid times where I felt like they were too strict, too uptight, and too controlling, especially in high school. But somehow in the past few years I got to the point where I not only love them, but I like them. I really do. I'll be writing more about them in the future I'm sure. Lately I just have been feeling like I have cool parents.

Dad texting me from his tree stand while he was
deer hunting. Notice how he signs his name at the
end of every text message he sends me. 

I was home for about 36 hours this weekend. I had the opportunity to get my oil changed at home with our trusted go-to mechanics, which is good, because I found out that my car had virtually no oil in it. That clicking sound that was going on in my car for the last two weeks? Yeah, that was the engine telling me that some bad stuff could seriously go down at any moment. Thankfully I made it home safely and got Remy all fixed up and ready for this winter. Other than that, I spent my time at home, making food, shopping with my mom, and going out to eat with my parents on Saturday night. Back in the day three years ago I'd burst through the door, drop my stuff on the ground, and head out with my friends. It's true that I just don't have as many friends at home anymore, but I think it's also that I really miss my mom and dad these days. I miss home and the safety, feeling of belonging, and simple Wisconsin goodness that they symbolize to me.

My mom officially has more of a social
life than I do. Good work Kathy. 

I often write in this nostalgic blurriness every time I return after a quick trip home, but that's just the great feeling I get from sleeping in and having a simple day back in Cedar Grove. Beautiful trees, open land, no neighbors, the smell of farm, fresh air, and perfect starry nights. I really love Chicago, but getting home for a bit is so so sweet. It's sweet because of all that good stuff about rural Wisconsin in the fall, but it's mainly because of the two people who live there.

Punkin

Two weeks ago I got to accompany Rudi, Steph, and family to a pumpkin patch for some memory making. SoyJoy had some issues with pronouncing the word pumpkin. And kept saying punkin. Then I stopped trying to teach her how to say it because it sounded cuter her way anyway. Sawyer and Xander each got to choose a pumpkin and, as a special treat, we all got Qdoba afterwards. You know, pumpkins and Mexican food. The classic American family's fall festivities. If I someday have kids as half as cute as these I'll be a happy person.