Kingdom Undone is a beautiful, well-acted piece of theater happening in the Twin Cities through Easter Sunday (April 8) at the Southern Theater. I hesitate to call it a Passion Play, simply because I don’t want people to dismiss it right off the bat, but that’s what it is–a theatrical account of the last days of Jesus Christ.

This is a brand-spankin’-new play written by homegrown talent Jeremiah Gamble of Theater for the Thirsty. Their website describes Kingdom Undone as follows:

When revolution spins out of control, Judas Iscariot, and a young Zealot named Isaac rush toward their ultimate liberation, or their undoing. Kingdom Undone merges earthy drama, music and unexpected humor with the passion of Jesus’ final days and the messy justice that turned the world on its head.

The acting was fantastic. The man who plays Judas is just awesome, and Jeremiah Gamble plays Jesus, and does so with such grace and strength. It was phenomenal to watch him bring that character (of all characters to have to try to play) off the pages of our Bibles and attempt to convey his heart in flesh-and-blood form.

For me, I love a reminder that the people I read about in the gospels were actual people. They had inflection. And voices. And mannerisms. And personality conflicts.

And Jesus himself truly was a God-Man! He had an actual, physical voice and warm-blooded hands that touched the poor and needy and unclean.

I’ll admit that in reading the same gospel accounts over and over, it can become kind of rote and unimaginative for me. And therefore kinda heartless. So I’m thankful for people like Jeremiah and his cast and crew who take the risk and put these sacred words into human form for us to remember.

I’d never seen a Passion Play before and I’m so glad this was my first. It stirs the heart. It sparks the mind. It feeds the soul. Loved it! Five stars!

I’d also not be giving the show enough credit if I didn’t mention how awesome the actual stage is (the Southern is a really cool space), how creative the set was, how moving the music was, and how stunning the lighting was. I could go on and on. Really, this is all-around a beautiful piece of theater.

They also have a Facebook page to peruse, so go ahead and do that on your journey to purchasing tickets!

Thankfully we already had a remote control car for Orison and a clipboard lying around the house to give him. A friend of ours ran an 11th-hour errand to pick up the construction paper. Orison was thrilled!

Morrow didn’t seem to notice or care that he didn’t get anything on his list. I think probably the power of suggestion (read: Orison) was responsible for most of the things on there anyway.

And bonus points for anyone who can tell me the source for the question to Santa, “Did you have a good summer?”

Some of you will have gotten one of these in the mail recently, but not all of you. I wish I had the money (and time) to send them to all of you, because getting personal mail is just that awesome, isn’t it?

But I do sincerely want to thank you all for your continued participation here on my site. And I wish you the merriest of Christmases and the happiest of New Years from our Piper clan!

For some reason, Christmas compels me to share a couple. Maybe it’s because there’s so much frickin’ happiness at Christmas, and I remember feeling so desperately unhappy those first couple Christmases. I remember getting the album Snow Angels at Christmas time in 2007, our first one without Felicity.

I have particular memories of playing–no, blasting–this one over and over with tears streaming down my face anytime I was in the car alone.

I don’t want to explicate why it was so comforting to me. That’s not how music works. If it grabs you, it grabs you. If it doesn’t, then no amount of my explaining it will help you feel what I feel when I hear it. It punches me in the gut still today, in the best kind of gut-punching way.

Don’t forget to pray this week for people shedding more tears this Christmas than sharing smiles. Remember them. Listen to a song for them. Light a candle for them. If they can’t ask for the white horse for Christmas for themselves, hold out hope for them and ask for it for them.

White Horse
(Words and Music: Detweiler)

Bring me a white horse for Christmas
We’ll ride him through the town
Out into the snowy woods
Where we will both lie down

Underneath white birches
Our faces toward the sky
We will make snow angels
With our white horse standing by

Hush now baby
One day we’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Our white horse through the sky

Bring me a white horse for Christmas
We’ll ride him through the snow
All the way to Bethlehem
2000 years ago

I wanna speak with the angel
Who said do not be afraid
I wanna kneel where the oxen knelt
Where the little child was laid

Hush now baby
One day you’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Your white horse through the sky

No bridle will he be wearing
His unshod hoofs they will fly
Keep a watch out this Christmas
For that white horse in the sky

Hush now baby
One day we’re gonna ride
Hush now baby
Our white horse through the sky

Hush now baby
Let every angel sing
Hush now baby
One day we’ll ride again

I recommend it if:

• it feels like the holidays suck
• you’re battling for joy at Christmas
• you’re in the throes of a grief journey
• you know someone on a grief journey

Maybe you fit into all those categories.

So if you want a good cry at Christmas (I personally love crying) go ahead and hit play. If you want to wait til you can have that good, cleansing cry, wait til later, light a candle or ten, and then hit play.

I love the sentiment of the song–we’re gonna grieve. We’re gonna grieve hard at times. And then there’s still going to be joy for some things, too.

That’s the epitome of the holidays if you’re in the early days or months of a grief journey. There are times when it’s just hard. Christmas? That time of family togetherness? What if you’re family isn’t together and never will be this side of heaven? And what of the warm, fuzzy feelings? What if there are none of those? What if they’re further off and farther between than they’ve ever been?

I know some of you who are experiencing your first Christmas without your son or daughter. They should be there. They should be gathered up in your number, bundled into coats and carted off to Christmas Eve service. They should be whisked off to Grandma & Grandpa’s house and endlessly adored by all privileged enough to know them. That’s why it hurts, right? They should be there.

We’ve had four Christmases now, and I still cry. And somehow there’s still joy at Christmas.

There’s Still My Joy (by Indigo Girls)

I thought I’d post the lyrics here too so you can read along:

I took my tree down to the shore
The garland, and the silver star
To find my peace, and grieve no more
To heal this place inside my heart

On every branch I laid some bread
And hungry birds filled up the sky
They rang like bells around my head
They sang my spirit back to life

One tiny child can change the world
One shining light can show the way
Through all my tears, for what I’ve lost
There’s still my joy
There’s still my joy
For Christmas day

The snow comes down on empty sand
There’s tinsel moonlight on the waves
My soul was lost, but here I am
So this must be amazing grace

One tiny child can change the world
One shining light can show the way
Beyond these tears for what I’ve lost
There’s still my joy
There’s still my joy
For Christmas day
There’s still my joy for Christmas day

from left: Superman, Mario, Princess Peach, Luigi, Spiderman, Batman

I can’t stop laughing at how portly Morrow/Batman looks in this picture! He’s actually pretty small for his age, so it’s just killin’ me!

As you can see, Orison was ready for action and couldn’t wait to get started conquering trick-or-treating, but Morrow obviously didn’t remember the experience from last year and took a few houses to “get” what was going on.

For instance, after he went to the first house, I said, “Okay! Go get some candy!” to entice him to chase after all those big kids. He holds up his haul (one piece) and says triumphantly, “I already got candy!”

He would’ve been thrilled with one house. But his candy-craving-kid gene was activated very shortly and today as I was putting him down for nap he looked at me all sad and serious-like–”I want to go trick-or-treating again.”

Here’s another pic of our superheroes (and Morrow looking more excited):

The babies spent the evening being fawned over and photographed by Grandmama and Aunt Talitha. Don’t they look so cozy?

It’s been four years now, and I still have a desire to buy you something, Felicity. (Will that ever go away?)

It’s been four years now, and I wish I could see your eyes light up with excitement over the decorations in the kitchen for your birthday breakfast. (I wish we were busy tonight with last-minute birthday preparations, instead of sitting here writing blog posts.)

It’s been four years now, and I often find myself wishing I knew what you’d like. (Would you be a chocolate cake girl like mama?)

I’ve been working on this scarf for myself for months, Felicity. Months. The hubbub of our lives prevented me from finishing it until this week. So now it’s my birthday present–to you…for me; for you…to me. I don’t know…

But I love it. And I know I’d love you more.

Daddy calls it the “Starry Night” scarf. I like that.

There’s been a lot of dark nights since we lost you, no stars in the sky. Just the black expanse. I remember one night a couple weeks after you died, I was out in the country and we turned the light off to sleep and it was so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. That was year 1 and year 2 without you. So dark. So paralyzingly dark.

But then, just like a night sky, stars began to appear, little glimmers breaking through the pitch. They’ve lit my way a bit. They’ve taken the edge off of the darkness. They’ve shone some beauty into something so horrific I thought it might swallow me whole (and at times, wanted it to).

So for your birthday I’m gonna wear the Starry Night scarf. It’s from me…about you.

Someday we’ll see the stars together the way they were meant to be seen.

It’s pure Redemption–death, then life.

So happy birthday, Redemption Baby. You are more to me than you could ever know.

Sometimes I tell you your redemption story, and it usually goes something like this:

Mommy: Before you were born, Mommy had another baby in her tummy. Do you know what her name was?
MJ: Felicity.
Me: Yep, that’s right. And she grew and grew in my tummy, but then do you know what happened?
MJ: She died.
Me: Yeah, she died. And Mommy was really, really sad. I cried and cried and cried for a long time. Lots and lots of days. And Daddy cried lots and lots of days, too. But then do you know what happened?
MJ: What?
Me: God gave me another baby in my tummy. And do you know who that baby was?
MJ: Me!
Me: Yes, you. And when you grew and grew in my tummy I was still so sad. I missed your sister Felicity so much. But then it was time for you to come out of my tummy, and you know what?
MJ: What?
Me: I loved you so much. And every day that I held you and played with you and took care of you I loved you more and more. You made my heart so happy. And you make my heart happy every day. God made you so special for so many reasons. I’m glad I get to be your mommy.

So, Morrow–Mah-Jo, Mar, MahJoRahn, Mar-Mar, Jo-John, Chip–you have been a dynamic work of God in my life in the past three years, taking me from a place of death to a place of life.

Happy birthday, Redemption Baby.

(We celebrated Morrow’s birthday on Monday night, August 22nd. He was born 11 months to the day after his big sister, Felicity Margaret, was born still in 2007.)

They heartily enjoyed their smash cakes from Wegman’s (my favorite grocery store EVER!!)!

Cadence was hesitant to dig in at first, but thoroughly enjoyed the taste once she got it in her mouth. But when she was done, she was done–just started crying, and waving her hands out at her sides (like she does).

Whit was so into it that he literally got into it–stuck his face right down in there! We were laughing so hard at this point because he looked like he had shaving cream on his face! And when Cadence was done with her cake, he finished it off for her. Brothers are always good for the human vacuum thing, right?

I had all these grand delusions that I was going to write handwritten notes to all the people who’ve helped me survive this first year with twins. Guess what? When you have 4 children ages 6 & under, you don’t have lots of time for such things…

So I’ll say it here for any who want to read…

If you’ve helped me in any way this past year, you’ve made this possible. You’ve helped these babies go from the tiny little helpless babies up there to the bouncing, vibrant, living babies they are. You’ve helped me keep them alive. This is no small thing. I’m grateful for life.

I’m grateful for the partnership of countless others to fold laundry, iron clothes, wash dishes, babysit, bring us food, buy me groceries, make us peanut butter, change diapers, hold babies, care for them in the nursery, mix bottles, pick up car pool, make us laugh, feed babies… this list is endless, it seems.

The past few years have been needy years for us. First we buried a child. The couple years following that were a nightmare in so many ways. We needed so much support to get through. And then we go and have two babies at the same time. More needs.

It’s deeply humbling to be so needy, knowing you are so dependent on other people for so many things. It’s not always easy to ask for that help. Thankfully so many of you haven’t even made me ask, you just jumped in with both feet and slogged through it with us.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I don’t think they get it yet, but Whitsun & Cadence thank you too. I think they like life so far.