1st Day in Portland: Our New Home

Yesterday was our first day in our new residence, Portland.  We had a warm, incredible welcome! The sun was bright.  The trees were showing their fragrant pink and white blossoms.  The stream trickled delicately downstream as I ran in the opposite direction. Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens were enormous with their snow caps.  The rivers glistened in their fullness.  

Before dinner, we headed to the bustling park where my California thin skin was covered in a jacket and everyone around me wore shorts and a t-shirt.  The Pacific Northwest has never gone too far from me, and I don't feel like I'm in foreign territory; I do feel like I'm home, and I'll soon join the masses and wear shorts on a day like today.  
As I looked around the park and watched my kids swinging, running, smiling and climbing, I stood and realized...this is completely a new beginning.  I kept thinking that I saw someone I knew.  That's how it used to be when I went to the park, or store, or driving down the street.  There's something comfortable and soothing about familiarity, but there's also something sweet and significant about new beginnings, albeit difficult.  I'm trying to relish in the sweet and significant, realizing there will be many introductions and names to remember.  Patience.  Give it time.
Day two was much of the same.  Except this time at the park I met another mom, Sarah, who was pushing her daughter, Rachel, in the swing next to my daughter, and we talked and learned about each other.  As we said goodbye, Rachel turned to her and said, "Mom, did you make a new friend?" 
Oh yes!  Little did Rachel know that comment did my heart a lot of good.  Hope for new friendships. 
And as I write, Kaylee is snuggling with my mother-in-law as they watch a movie, and my father-in-law is at the ball field with Matt and Cameron....my heart is happy.
Patience.  Give it time.  I am glad to be here.

Two Days and Counting....A Letter to Our Kids

Last day at the kids' amazing school...happened to be Pajama Day, treats at the end of the day and extra recess!  Not too bad!  

This was written on October 22nd; the day we told the kids about the move.  As we leave in two days for the Northwest, these words ring truer now than they did then.  We have swallowed.  And now we are ready.  

Dear Cameron and Kaylee,

In a few hours, your world will be rocked.  The sea billows will pummel the steady ship that has been your constant, secure life thus far.  My heart waits in anticipation to your reaction, but what I want you to know is how much we love you.  How much we pray for you.  How much this decision is not just about me and Dad but about all of us as a family on this ship together.  The rudder may be steering us in a new direction where the scenery looks different and the newness will be apparent, but you’re never alone.  The Captain is the One who is in charge, and we are trusting Him to guide and direct our every step in this unchartered land, and we stand on the bow, knowing we are a family. Although the unknown can be terrifying at times, we are also very excited.  This is part of our family’s story.  Each turn.  Each bend. Each wave.  Each storm.  Each sunrise and sunset.  Each day. 

We understand that this won’t be easy, and it will be a paradoxical mixture of bitter and sweet meshed together through tears and laughter.  We will focus on the sweet until we need to swallow the bitter.  And we will swallow.  And it will sting and it will burn and it will hurt.  But the sweet we will also savor and delight in, and somehow in the middle of it all we will remember all the precious memories that will remain in our hearts from our current, familiar land.  Even as the roots are getting pulled up from the ground, little roots will break off and remain in the pot; those are the pieces of us, the friends, those dear to us, that can’t physically go with us but will forever be in our hearts, part of the greater plant.  And as we are transplanted those same roots will grow in the new land with new soil, new possibilities, and new depth that helps the plant grow taller, stronger, and more beautifully. We love you more than words can say, and we are excited for you in this unfamiliar adventure.  We wait in anticipation to see how the Lord will work in all of our hearts and how He will show His faithfulness to us as we journey through these waters.   Hold on.  Here we go. 

We Love You More Than Words Can Say,

Mom & Dad

"DON'T CRY BECAUSE IT'S OVER, SMILE BECAUSE IT HAPPENED." -DR. SEUSS

THREE DAYS AND COUNTING...

In this time of preparation for the journey that is ahead of us, moments and time have been spent reflecting on the past nearly two decades in this land that we have called home, and I'm reminded of Dr. Seuss' words.  My eyes stick on the two letter word: IT.  What is the IT that has happened?
The IT is:

Transformation.

Perseverance.

Growth.

Joy.

Love.

Grace.
Friendships.

Community.

 IT will go with us.  IT will remain.  IT will always be a part of who we are, and for that I am eternally grateful.

The juxtaposition of tears and smiles are inevitable as the time has arrived to say goodbye, but there are two smiles for each tear that falls.  Grateful.  Blessed.  Beyond measure.  Beyond counting.  Beyond anything we could imagine.  

Only God knows what the future will hold, but I do know that for the present unspeakable joy escapes from my pores as I think about the past.  I soak in the warmth of the memories (and the 80 degree early-March day), and I feel joy.