One Year Later: If I Knew Then, What I Know Now...

It's been one year.  Already.  So much has changed. So much has happened.  So much new.  So much hard.  So much good.  So much.  

One year ago, March 10, 2014, we left California and crossed the Oregon border to green grass, yellow daffodils springing from the fertile ground, and Mt. Hood's grandeur welcoming us. 

Here is my top 15 things of "If you had told me on March 10, 2014 that on March 10, 2015...
#15: You have 20 minutes to write this because a precious baby is sleeping and will wake up soon!
#14: Your idea of planning and trying to map out what would happen, well, just throw that out the window.
#13: You're the newbie, nobody knows you, but strangers will begin conversations (and you'll have to start them too) on the ball field, at church, or other places, and they'll become some of the sweetest friends.
#12: There will be honest times when you say, "It would have been easier if we'd just stayed" and question it all.
#11: Your children (and you) will miss their California friends dearly, but in time they will be invited to birthday parties and play dates and settle well.  They will choose their friends wisely, and all that time you spent worrying about them and their transition, well, you should have spent your time on something else.
#10: You'll become even more grateful for family.
#9: Your family pet, the one that helped you all through the transition, will unexpectedly and sadly die, but another furry friend will brighten your home and two children's hearts.
#8: The weather you were worried if you could handle, well, it turned out to be not so bad.  In fact, it's absolutely beautiful and the fresh air and colors make you feel alive.
#7: You'll look out your living room window (you know, the one you thought "are we ever going to

find our home?") to see your children playing and laughing with the neighbor kids, pink cotton candy cherry blossoms lining the street, purple crocus finding their way out of the hard soil to smile upon all that pass by, and you'll know it was worth the wait.
#6: The school the kids descended into in the 11th hour would be perfect for them.
#5: You'll find others that have moved here too and seem to have a soft spot and understanding, bonding you for life.
#4: You'll receive packages for your new baby from California addresses, humbly reminding you that just as you remember and miss those you love and left they remember you too.
#3: Your husband will take you by the hand and help you process through the laughter, tears and fears, and give you the courage to pursue your dream of writing a novel.
#2: You'll be glad you said "YES!" to this crazy, wild adventure that has challenged, stretched, and grown you and your family over the past 365 days.  
#1: You'll look into your newborn daughter's big blue eyes as she gives you a gummy smile in return,

and be abundantly grateful that God's plan are bigger and better than yours...
If you had told me all that, I would have laughed hard, wondered if I'd make it through at times, but still said "yes!"! 

As the unknown loomed over our heads and faith was all we had, I'm glad we took that step and trusted the Lord to carry us through each step. His mercies are new every morning, great is His faithfulness.
My 20 minutes has turned into two days (my new reality with a newborn)...I'm off to hold a little blessing that reminds me of the good things that come when we trust and leap!

Tomorrow She Comes

Dear Baby Girl,
On the eve of your arrival, this is what I would tell you:

I can't promise the world is good or kind or gentle.

But our home will be.

I can't promise as you grow that life will be fair.

But our home will be.  

I can't promise sunny skies and days free from bruises.

But you can always come home.

I can't promise life's storms will be diverted as you learn and grow.

But you can always come home. 

I can promise to hold, cherish and adore you.

I can promise to (in all my imperfections and to try to do my best) teach you, and when your butterfly wings expand beyond our home one long day from now your compass will know how to point true north.  That is my prayer. My hope. 

But for now, I anticipate the morning. That first cry.  That first bundle wrapped up and lain in my arms. And we will take it one day at a time.  That's the only guarantee we have.  I trust you in the hands of the One who created you.  The One who is knitting you even now.  The One who knows you.  Loves you.  Sees you.  Holds you.  And...I get to be your mom.  My. Heart. Leaps.  In 12 hours, you'll be in my arms. Your cozy, warm cocoon will turn into a full, loving nest...a home to be adored beyond words. We wait with open arms!

We Love You,

Mom (and Dad, Big Bro and Big Sis)

When Dreams Don't Come True

 Seems like yesterday, but it's been 19 years.

19!

A few-measly-tenths shy from being on the podium and securing a spot at the coveted Nationals.
First alternate...oh the sting of what that meant.  Honor?  Yes, of course.  But who wants to be the one left at home?  Who wants to fill out all the forms as if you've qualified and still train just to wait and see if someone will get injured in order to open up a spot for you? 

Eleven years of dedication. 5:30am mornings in a cold rink.  Bruises from unforgiving ice.  Scars from razor-sharp blades penetrating flesh.

Dreams didn't come true that day.

Sitting home and watching my competitors and friends on TV at Nationals.  That was hard.
But it's moments like those when dreams shift, alter, and rise in a different way. 
And here I sit in 2015 and watch Nationals; that sacred, annual figure skating event that anyone who has ever been in the skating world clears their schedule in order to watch.  Many of these girls weren't even born in 1996 when Michelle Kwan won and the four girls ahead of me at Sectionals all placed in the top eight at Nationals that year.  But as I look at the past two decades, I can't help but see that even in those times of broken dreams, new sprouts pop up and blossom into the most beautiful, fragrant gifts we couldn't have ever dreamt up ourselves.  We just have to trust and know something is waiting for us around the next turn even when it looks different than what we might have originally desired.  And there will be.  There always is.  Although I miss elements of the beautiful sport that gave me so much, I'm beyond thankful for all of those blossomed gifts that rose from the day dreams didn't come true.

She Comes in THREE Weeks

It's not that we're in denial.  Okay, well, maybe we are a tad bit.  But three weeks...THREE WEEKS!!!!  I'm not quite sure where nine months has gone.  Our little darling will enter the world to a lot of love.  Two adoring siblings are already in love, and we can't wait to hold and cherish her.

The nursery...well, it'll get there (after our major renovations my handy hubby is doing all over the house).  

The car seat is still in the box.

The stroller will get put together.  

And, everything else we need...we'll get there too! 

And for someone who is a planner, it all feels paradoxically peaceful.

The hospital bag is packed, so if she comes tonight we'll be ready.

I find myself relishing in the moment with this pregnancy.  Every kick.  Every hiccup.  Every uncomfortable punch from her strong, delicate tiny arms.  She's a miracle growing and being revealed with each new God-given gracious gift of a day.  Maybe that's why in the midst of uncomfortable nights and hectic days three weeks seems so close, but I don't want to miss the present.  And as I look at my big kids, I'm reminded of how precious life is and how quickly each stage passes.  Living in the moment is so much better than wanting something to end (even if you know something good is going to begin).  My pregnancy will come to a close between now and the 28th, that's a given, and the new life as a family of five will begin.  We can't wait.  WE CAN'T WAIT!!!!  But for now, we anticipate her arrival yet cherish today.    

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.