We Got Our Keys!!!

We got our keys today.  Our new house.  A place of our own.  Home.  Neighbors to greet us.  Our son playing in the street with the neighbor boys for hours.  Dinner brought to our doorstep.  New and old friends lending a hand to move.  We. Are. Grateful.


We've been in transition since March, seven months, and time has shown me a few things that have been lessons for our whole family.  Here's my top seven (in no particular order):


1) Moving with children (elementary-aged) is hard, really hard (e.g. you feel everything they do and want to protect them as much as you can from it being hard), but rewarding.
2) Put yourself out there when meeting people, or you become isolated and lonely. 
3) Wait and wait and wait...it will be worth it in the long run.
4) When plans seem to divert you, enjoy the scenery in the meantime. The landscape before you may be more than a drive-by; it may be where you end up. 
5) Find a balance between what you left behind and what you're embracing in the now.  Both are sacred.  Both are special.  Invest in the important of today. 
6) Be grateful for those friends who you've said goodbye to that have checked in, stayed in touch, written letters and have cared.  Be grateful for those new friends who have welcomed you with open arms into this unknown land.  Both mean more than most will ever know.   
7) Take a risk!  Trust the Lord's hand to carry you to safety in His arms even when life is hairy and chaotic. 


My eyes are now open more than ever before to those going through major life transitions, and I understand the simple gestures that speak volumes to the soul. 


Some of the best parts of the past seven months have been spending quality time under the roof of my in-laws and experiencing their generosity, and showing the children that instant gratification is not what life is about.  Waiting.  Gaining perspective.  Experiencing life's simple joys.  Patience.  Family's love.  God's provision and care. That's what life is about. 

Autumn: An Old Friend Who Has Come Home

"What is your favorite season?"

This question was our Question of the Day at a staff meeting nearly a year ago. 
My answer was autumn.  Growing up as a Washingtonian, the never-ending summer days reigned supreme, but as I became a Californian my blood flowed for fall.   
Now as an Oregonian, autumn is a treasured friend that has been reunited with my heart.  We've been apart for 18 years, and it's so good to see her again.  Radiant.  Refreshing.  Unpredictable.  Lovely.  Stunning.  
Sometimes you don't know what you've missed until you see that friend again, and it all comes back.  All the memories.  All the joy. 
Like the warm October day when my brother and I drove to high school with the windows down and Journey blasting on the radio.  Meridian Ave was filled with fluttering red, yellow and orange as the leaves danced in the wind on the street from the naked trees above.
Or running around the muddy pumpkin patch hoping to pick the perfect orange plump beauty to take home and carve. 
My kids get to see the colors of fall and experience the seasons.  Finally!  It's new to them. 
And it warms my heart when they say, "Mom, did you see that?", pointing to a marvelously painted red maple tree.
Yes, I sure saw it.  Along with them, I'm not missing anything!   
And in my own life no matter the season, I don't want to miss anything. 

One of Those Days: Comforter and Cheerleader

   

 
    Before the sun rose, Kaylee's hair was neatly in a bun and she donned her sparkly blue gymnastics leotard, ready for her meet.  Cameron strapped his shin guards on and dark blue socks overtop, ready for a soccer game.  The promise of a new day ahead of us.
      When we arrived at Kaylee's meet, her face quickly flushed white as snow and she curled up in my lap.  She wasn't feeling well, but as a mom, I struggled with "does she compete and tough it out," or "do we go home"?  One side of my brain said:  Maybe she'll feel better in a bit, she is part of a team, and has worked hours upon hours for moments like these.  The other side of my brain replied: But she's not feeling well.  We needed some clarity, and Kaylee delivered.  She proceeded to not be able to keep anything down, and the decision was easy.  With her tightly clung around me (which she hasn't allowed me to pick her up since she found out I'm pregnant), we headed home.  My role today as her mom: comforter in the midst of the meet. 
     Next was onto Cameron's game.  Halfway through the game, my son had been appointed the goalie position.  It's much like when he gets sent to be the pitcher in a baseball game; my heart rate increases, and I just can't sit still.  He loves it and the pressure that goes with it!  Our team was already down by a few goals, and I watched on the sidelines as one slipped past him, and then another.  He made an amazing diving save just to have an opponent's head hit the ball and send it into the net.  He laid on the ground for a moment, and I wanted to run to him, pick him up and say, "It's okay.  You'll get it next time."  My role as his mom: cheerleader on the sidelines. 
    There are times as parents when we are comforters, running to the aid of our children, picking them up and holding them, trying to surround their hearts with the assurance that all will be okay (even when we don't know for sure).  Then, there are times when we are on the sidelines with our pom poms but watching from a distance, not interfering with the game at play.  Sometimes I wonder if this is how the Lord is with us.  There are times when He sees us and says, "Come close, my Child.  You're safe in my arms.  Let's go rest and heal."  And other times, "It's okay.  You'll get it next time.  Get up off the ground because you know the ball will come in your direction again.  But just never, ever give up."
     It was just one of those days.  But in a strange way, my favorite moments were when Kaylee clung to me, trusting my arms to protect her and take her safely home, and when Cameron acknowledged my thumbs up that he was going to be okay even when the ball had slipped past him and into the net.  That's life.  And that's the assurance we have to trust the One that has all of life in the palm of His hands, even when it's hard and it hurts.  Will I let God carry me when I need healing, or speak words of truth to me when I'm down and out?  I sure hope so.  He knows best what I need.

Time and Patience: Lessons from the Ice

For most of my formidable childhood and youth, the sport that captured my heart, my time and my devotion was one that taught discipline, grace, preparing, repetition, and a lot of bruising.  The ice was not kind or gracious when one fell, but every morning and afternoon my blades would cut and carve designs into it, making deep sounds and spraying ice with it.  Sometimes I would end up on the ice more than I would have liked, but you can't stay there.  You've got to pick yourself up, trying again, and again, and again.  Other times, all that would touch were the delicate and fiercely sharp edges of the thin silver blade that was attached with eight screws below my leather boot. That's when the ICE and the BLADE become an art form, dancing together in a highly unlikely and beautiful fashion.  

Right now the ICE represents TIME, and the BLADE represents PATIENCE: waiting, and everything I once learned half a lifetime ago.  In one week, the children start school, and we have yet to know which school they will be attending in our new city (as we wait for circumstances).  My like-to-plan-way-in-advance brain is trying to settle with the reality that TIME is not on my side, and I have no control over it.  PATIENCE is in my control, and I can do as much planning as earthly possible but there is still an element of waiting and not knowing.  I don't like it as much as I didn't like tripping over my toe pick while doing a spiral and ending up with a thud on my hipbone.  But in order for me to allow PATIENCE to do its work, I must let go, get off the cold ice, and lean into the edge that will draw me closer to the purpose of all of this.  In the midst of the unknown on many different levels, I do have a peace.  I know the Lord's formation in our family at this moment is more important than the circumstances surrounding us, and yet I do know that He cares about our needs and the childrens' needs, and I rest in that.  It's hard, but that's okay.  As long as perspective is kept, TIME and PATIENCE can dance in perfect rhythm, resting in the knowledge that all will be well. 

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