Spring Has Come

“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything." (Sonnet XCVIII) 

― William Shakespeare

Spring.  I remembered it as a child.  The sun would become warmer, the leaves would clothe the naked trees, the blossoms would explode with color on every bush and nearly every tree, and new life would unassumingly grow out of the once hard, winter ground in the form of tulips and daffodils and burst into exquisite glory and delicacy.  But I haven't lived through a Spring like this since 1996, and I feel like a giddy child again.  Yet this time I appreciate it more.  The verdure is breathtaking with all of

the hues of green, and I nearly have to wear sunglasses just to look at all of the brilliant colors...everywhere!  It is beautiful.  On my run this morning, the ground looked like snow from the cherry blossoms, the lilacs infused my nose with their glorious smell, and I stopped from time to time just to take it in.   

In life, we go through seasons.  Sometimes Winter can seem so long, so unwelcoming, so cold.  Sometimes we wonder if the trees will ever have leaves again, or if the wind will ever stop blowing, or the ground will ever produce a fresh, delicious crop again.  Sometimes our wondering is so severe that we miss the introspection that Winter can and should bring; maybe that's why Winter sometimes can seem like such a long season.  But Spring does come.  It does. And with it is a newness, an energy, an excitement that reminds all hearts to remember the Winter, but to relish in the beauty of the Spring.

Snakes and Nutrias...Just Another Day in Oregon!

"If a person has nothing but nature, then nature is enough to reveal something about God." -Max Lucado

Seventeen slithering snakes. Two fuzzy nutrias.  Hundreds of squeaking frogs as they jump off of their logs and splash into the water before them.  Perfectly mirrored reflection of the towering coniferous trees on the pristine, shiny lake.  Brilliant pink azaleas.  Red and white rhododendrons.  Yellow daffodils.  Just another day on our nature hike.  We ride our bikes down to this spot that allows time to stand still.  Our science lesson for today is in front of us.  Our art lesson for today is all around.  The simple reminder that there is a Creator behind all of this makes us stand in awe.  God's hand is reflected everywhere. 

My adventurous son finds a green and yellow garter snake, grabs its squirming tail and holds it up with all the glee in the world written on his face.  "Mom, get a picture!  Hurry!" he says, giggling.  

"Mom, Shhh.  There's a nutria," my becoming-adventurous daughter remarks in her purple-flowered rain boots as she spots the head of a brown nutria swiftly swimming to the vegetative bank, and we observe as it eats its lunch.  We take a snap shot of the scene, and we will take it back to the house to draw it.  This is a sacred moment.  It is a privilege I have these times with my children, and I never want to forget it.  Time.  That gift we can't take for granted.

Nutria eating lunch

Blinding azaleas

Cam playing baseball

A home run just beyond the fence would put the ball in here!

 

Richer Whispers...The Unexpected

God knows our hearts.  I trust it.  I believe it.  After the past 24 hours, I understand it in a new, fresh way.
Four weeks ago, we drove the 982.81 miles to Portland, left all that was familiar (and comfortable) to us, and began this new adventure.  We have been welcomed with arms more open and even wider than I could have hoped.  Matt's parents have opened their home in this transition period, and been so beyond gracious and welcoming to us.  Friends (e.g. reconnections, friends of friends and others with hearts of gold) who have invited us over, included us in their days, met us at parks, helped us in this transition in various ways, have shown our family what hospitality looks like.    

We know that we are supposed to be here, but yesterday was a struggle as there are so many pieces of the puzzle still waiting to settle.  One of the harder moments was watching our little girl struggling with missing her friends and her life in Cali, trying to find her place on a new gymnastics team, and not feeling well in the midst.  I hadn't been emotional since the mile after we left our Rancho home, but I just felt sad for the moment and asked the Lord to comfort our hearts.  
He did in three unexpected ways (actually five ways, but I'll just mention three):

Unexpected Conversation: "Are you the parents of the new girl?" One of the team moms asked us as we sat, watching Kaylee.  "Yes, we are." That simple question provoked conversation, and before practice was over we learned that a dad of one of Kaylee's teammates, teaches at the dental school with my father-in-law.  Her mom and I have enjoyed acquainting ourselves while our girls train.  Small world, yes, but warmth to my heart when you understand something in common.  

Unexpected Kindness:  A few weeks ago, the kids and I met my dear high school friend (of whom I haven't seen since then) and her three beautiful daughters at this stunning park with a view of Mt. Hood.  She said she knew it was me from afar since I was the only person in the park wearing a coat (My skin is still California thin; it was a balmy 65 degrees!).  We reconnected like time hadn't passed, and last night I received a caring note from her, balming my heart.   

Unexpected Encounter: At the library, I found an intriguing book entitled, "60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Portland."  I picked it off of the metal shelf, tucked it in the purple library bag, and decided to take a look at it when we got home.  I found a great hike five miles south-east of the city at a wildlife refuge on the Willamette River, and decided we would head there in the early afternoon.  The three of

us were walking on the trail, enjoying the marsh-like beauty, green foliage, white cherry blossoms and yellow wildflowers when a lady was walking down the path towards us that looked like my sweet friend from high school (another friend I haven't seen since high school).  As she got about 50 feet away, we looked at each other in disbelief and both said, "NO WAY!!!".  What are the chances that in a city of about 600,000 people we would encounter each other at this moment on this path?  I knew this was more than coincidence; it was a gift from above that I just had the privilege to unwrap.

I realize that every day is filled with the unexpected.  Am I looking for it (not the kind filled with fear; the kind filled with opportunity of how God might be working)?  Am I stopping long enough to soak in the beauty around me whether it be the bullfrog on the log or time with a precious friend that has walked back into my life?  After today, I was reminded of the gentle whispers that come our way.  We just have to be still enough to hear it.  The whispers that make our lives richer.  Thank you, God, for knowing, caring about, and whispering into our hearts.

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.