Bruised Yet Sweet...A Lesson from a Peach

    

 
     One of the joys of Northwest living is picking our own fruit.  Blueberries, strawberries, and blackberries have overflowed our fridge and freezer, and the conglomerations of recipes we've made with these fruits has been beyond scrumptious.  But the fruit that has showed me my own heart is the peach. 
      We drove 15 minutes to a rural orchard symmetrically lined with peach trees that were heavy with luscious fruit.  With our box in hand on this warm day, we started feeling the fuzzy, yellow fruit to make sure that it was just right and ready to be picked.  We wanted to make sure and not get the ones that were rotten, too long on the tree, or had already fallen on the hard ground.  At least, that's what I told the kids.  But as I looked at this one peach that seemed to be quite ripe, a bit bruised and about to fall off the fingers of the branch that were holding it and onto the well-trodden ground below, I gazed long and hard at it.  I thought: if I don't give it a chance, who will?  Why do we discard the bruised fruit so quickly when we haven't even seen the inside of it?  We judge a book by its cover.  We determine it can't possibly be sweet and delicious.
       We paid for our box full of sweet peaches, and I eyed my special one.  This bite was for all of those who had given me a chance.  For those who hadn't given up on me.  And for all of those special, treasured people in my life who aren't perfect, but who make my life sweeter, tastier, more special and meaningful. And for grace, that perfect, undeserved gift that has been extended to those who accept it as their own.  If it weren't for God's grace, we would all be discarded, trampled on the ground.

As I bit into this chosen peach, it was absolutely delicious, and I thought of all those sweet peaches in my life.  I enjoyed the savory flavor all the more!

From the tree to the oven to our tastebuds!

Settling in Our New Land...12 Weeks

It’s been 12 weeks since we descended back into the Northwest.  At times, it has felt a little bit like we’re Canadian geese that have been gone for the winter, but at other times it feels like the dawn of a newly explored land where everything is unfamiliar. 

Today I have the chance to sit and listen to the delicate stream in front of me with the birds whistling all around.  The sun beats down, and I feel worlds away from the city. My children are having “recess,” rolling down the grassy hill as nature keeps them company.  So, finally, it’s time to reflect…

When we moved here, we had ideas of what the ensuing weeks would entail, but many of our plans have curtailed in the wind of the way life travels.  We have been given a peace about some things, big things, but others still seem restless and uncertain.

We have had our share of joys from the past few months….reconnecting with treasured friends, spending Mother’s Day with my mom, celebrating my dad’s birthday with him, crocheting with Matt’s grandma and hearing stories of Puerto Rican and NYC days gone by, boogie boarding in the shadow of Haystack Rock, having Matt’s parents at nearly every baseball game, watching my children scoop slimy tadpoles from the marsh to take to Papa’s pond in hopes of frogs, meeting some really amazing people that have become our new friends, and being able to homeschool my children. 

As for homeschooling: this was never my intent to finish the school year homeschooling them, but it has been one of the most beautiful gifts I’ve had the joy of unwrapping over the course of the past few months.  Now that I’ve worn the hat as teacher for my children (As parents, this hat is never removed but for me at this time it’s more of an official title since their knowledge of rhombus’ and idioms rests solely on my shoulders!), it has been so amazing to go at their pace, teach to their strengths and weaknesses, challenge them, and explore this world that’s before us together.  We will end the school year today, and although the structure of school will become a little bit looser this summer, the education will always continue.  When school begins in September, they will most likely embark on a new adventure with new teachers and new friends, but for now it’s been a gift.   

Although I still have so many unanswered questions and I’m reminded from wise people that “it takes about a year to feel like this will be home,” I have so much to be thankful for, and I stand in awe of the Creator who weaves a tapestry on the underside, making it as seems best for Him.  He knows what the finished tapestry will look like and makes everything beautiful in its time (not mine!).  For now, I’m a work in progress, and I find myself content.  It's time to roll down the green, grass hill with the giggling children.  All in all, I think we're geese that have come home!

Easter!

Downtown Portland

Lake Washington Seaplane Landing

Edmonds Beach Stroll

Tournament Champions

Oregon Beach Sunset

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.