what might've been...

Last week, The Girl and I drove past the new library that's not quite open on our side of town, and she asked me something about being a librarian. I don't even remember what it was, but it got me thinking and remembering.

About 5 years ago, I thought about going back to school to get a Masters in Library Science. I had picked out the school, talked to the dean of the program, even checked out a GRE guide from the library. I really thought this was going to be my new career.  Then, suddenly I ended up in the hospital having heart surgery. And there went my new career.

A little over a year later, I had my second baby while my first was starting occupational therapy. It's a good thing I wasn't going to school, too.

And now, here I am embarking on another new career - occupational therapy, which I never really considered the first time around, as I had only a vague idea of what it was about and had no idea of their work with kids.

I don't have a puppet-strings view of God or the cosmos. I don't think God makes us go one way or the other, or brings down disease or distress in order to fulfill some kind of Will. But I do think God uses bad and difficult things when they happen to bring about good and beautiful things. That's not a very deep theology, but it's one I hold onto, sometimes fitfully.  And today I am thankful for unexpected heart surgery and derailed education plans and a special needs child because they all brought me here to this place.

What might've been could've been good. But what is is also lovely.

thursday thankfulness

It's that time of year again - the gloom and doom season of the church cycle. I don't know why it always surprises me. I should be prepared. We've done this before. It's church budget time.

Every year around this time, I am confronted with the worry that there won't be a job for My Man next year. Maybe there will. Probably there will. But maybe there won't. And usually this brings on a burst of worry and anger, particularly as inevitably the cost of insurance will go up and pay will not. I don't really blame anyone for this. It is what it is. I just wish people would talk about it more openly. But...

This year I'm not as angsty! Maybe I'm growing up after all. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? If he loses his job and we can't sell our house (which would be probable), we could be added to the foreclosure statistics and move back in with my in-laws. Not ideal, maybe. But not life-threatening. That's SOOOO much better than most people in the world have it. We will not be homeless. We will not starve. We have resources beyond a lot of people's dreams. We are RICH.

But sometimes it's difficult to remember this fact. Our 1000 Gifts list hangs in our kitchen but rarely gets written on anymore. In fact, it's The Girl who forces us to write things occasionally. Things like "I learned to ride a bike" and "I get to play the piano in church" and "a nice breeze." In some ways, she is the most angst-ridden of us all. But she is also the most likely to see blessings and know joy. So in the spirit of My Girl, who notices the brightness, here's some of the goodness of today:

• Family who love and support us wholeheartedly, giving to us much more than we give to them.
• Medical insurance. Expensive though it may be, we have it!
• Food in the freezer and refrigerator and pantry.
• Credit cards (I know...Dave Ramsey would be appalled).
• A warm, cozy home with a great yard, for however long we're blessed with it.
• Pandora for me, the musically inept - just let it do the work for me!
• People who love and laugh.
• Changing leaves and weather.
• Wheels.
• A husband who cooks and makes costumes!
• Curls that grow back.
• Bright smiles and numerous hugs.
• The internet.
• Learning with a purpose and just for fun.
• Friendship.
• Jobs with people we like.
• Stories of beauty and goodness and hope (like this one).
• Kindness.

We are rich.  Oh, yes we are!  May we never forget.

a big week

This past week was a big one for My Girl. First, she pulled out a tooth in gym class and came home with a goofy gappy grin! I wish I'd had a camera as she came off the bus. Her wide, silly smile was priceless.

Then she scored a goal in her soccer game! Now, it was one of about 10 goals (her team was definitely dominating this week), but it was still a goal. And I missed it. Again! I missed her first ever goal because I was stuck at a meeting. I missed this second one because I was on the playground with The Boy, who can't handle sitting through a soccer game, especially when there's a playground within sight. So, alas, no picture of the triumph, but still very exciting.

The biggest news of all: She learned to ride a bike!!! I really was beginning to think this day would never come. She's always been extra-scared about anything that makes her feel unsteady, but I was afraid that this time we'd met our match and weren't going to be able to coach her through it. Finally, I bribed her. Yes, yes I did. I told her I'd give her $10.00 if she learned. Then it took her two days. Should've tried that last year! But actually, since the spring I've been having her "scoot" across our carport on her bike - just scooting with her feet on the ground, not putting her feet on the pedals. I think this did make a difference. It helped her feel comfortable on the bike. Helped her feel like if she started to fall, she could put her foot down and stop the bike from crashing (before she would just try to hop off it completely). The extra feeling of control meant that when I finally let go of the bike as she was riding it for real, she didn't freak out, or even initally notice. I'm so proud! Proud of us both :).



And finally, her second grade performance was this week. She was one of 8 kids with short speaking parts, and she was the only one who didn't read hers, I think, and she said it with bright enthusiasm. During the songs, she danced and did motions with great spirit. And when her class read the story of "The Tortoise and the Hare" on tape, she was the one who read with the most expression. And her picture of her scene was also one of the best:

So I know I'm being an annoying, braggy mom. But I really am proud of My Girl. Proud of her accomplishments in the face of fear. Proud of her artistic and dramatic talent. Proud of her undaunted spirit despite the challenges she faces. We drive each other crazy sometimes, but I am so very thankful that God gave her to our family.

one year, three months

One year and three months. That's how much longer I will keep my current job (probably). One year and three months!  I'll still have another 5 months after that until graduation, but in one year and three months I'll start a full-time internship so I won't be able to work another job. If I ignore the fact that that internship will be unpaid and I'm not sure how we'll pay the bills that semester (must not hyperventilate!), I'm so psyched! 

Oh, I know I'll miss the relaxed office and friendly commeraderie. I'll miss being able to plan my grocery list and write on a blog and do homework - all while "working." (yes, I know I used quotation marks incorrectly). But I won't miss feeling like the resident heretic. I won't miss hearing faith conversations around me that make me want to scream. I won't miss knowing that as much as I like you office guys, you would exclude me from some of your church activities based on my gender and my beliefs.

Of course, I feel like that at my own church - not that I would be excluded but that I'm a resident heretic. At least, I would be if they knew. Mostly I keep my mouth shut, and when I do argue or challenge some book-writer, it's not generally about controversial stuff. The one time I questioned the exclusive nature of our traditional evangelical interpretation of John 14:6 (and let's face it, I really didn't say much other than, "we forget to look at the context"), I got jumped on. So mostly I stay quiet, which is pretty easy for me as I'm a naturally quiet person. I'm not a wave-maker. I'm a go-with-the-flow-er.

But that can be very lonely. And cowardly. And not always what I want to teach my children. I believe in tact and kindness and loving those who are different than me. But I also believe in honesty, and sometimes waves should be made to advance the tide.

Maybe in one year and three months I'll be braver. Actually, make that one year and eight months, when hopefully I'll have a paying job. Maybe I'll have more courage. Maybe. But probably not.

biologically determined?

I told my husband that my goal for school this go-round was passing, not perfection. That's a crock of $#*@.

I wish it were true. Really I do. But I seem to be biologically (environmentally?) incapable of letting things slide when it comes to school. I don't have this problem in other areas of my life (witness my house), but for some reason school brings out the perfectionist in me.

Which is freakin' frustrating.

If I had the kind of time I had at Duke, then sure, no problem. Strive for perfection, fine. That GPA isn't ultimately very important, but if you're capable of nerdiness, then why not use it? But this go-round, I do not have the same kind of time. I begin my day's work at 6 in the morning and often don't stop until 10 in the evening. Now, by "work" I include things like cooking and cleaning and monitoring homework and a few minutes of actual playing with kiddoes (not just paid work and school), so I don't mean for it to sound like my life is a weary grind of work-work. The pace is full but manageable. But it is full. There's not much extra time during the week. So sometimes it would be helpful if I could be satisfied with less-than-best schoolwork.

But I can't! I don't seem to know how. Is it because school was the one thing I was always good at? In most other areas of life, I was mediocre. Sports, art, music, leadership, etc. I was generally OK at things, but rarely very good at them. Except for school. Maybe I derived too much self-esteem from my grades. But now? Really? I'm STILL there? Must I really still be the class nerd?

And unfortunately, I see these tendencies in my daughter.  My daughter who used to write with such free-spiritedness. My girl who could not write her spelling words in a straight line last year and wrote the largest letters in the class is now suddenly obsessed with perfect handwriting. Oh, the tears and drama over the cursive handwriting sheet! And I missed the drama when she realized she missed 2 on her reading test and only made a 90 (daddy got that one)!

*sigh* I wish I could teach her to not worry so much. I wish I could teach myself. And to a certain extent, I have. I don't worry about grades so much, but I still must do my best. I just hope it doesn't take My Girl so long to get past the worry. But the apple doesn't fall far...

time enough

It's been a while since I've written (well, other than that post that some of you may have caught that I went back and deleted, though I saved it for my kids - sometimes its best to calm down before hitting the publish button).

Life is busy. Sometimes it feels too busy, but I don't think it is, not really. It just requires a lot more planning and intentionality right now. And it requires more juggling with My Man, who has been wonderful at taking over a bunch of the kid responsibilities while I'm out of the house more. I know there will be days when the tension radiates up my back and I fight the urge to scream because there's TOO MUCH TO DO! But I think those days will be rare, as long as I remind myself of what is truly important. Some things that are NOT important:

• a clean house.
• organic, natural food all of the time.
• making straight A's.
• providing the perfect enrichment activities for my children every day.
• a savings account.
• regular blog entries.

And some things that are:

• telling my family every day that I love them and appreciate them just as they are.
• noticing the beauty around me, even in an A & P lab.
• taking a deep breath when my children are driving me crazy and reminding myself that this day with them is a gift, a gift that some other moms don't have.
• reading stories over and over and over again, without skipping lines.
• doing schoolwork a little bit at a time, and being satisfied with enough.
• sleep.
• talking to friends, even if it's just on the phone.
• spending time with my husband.
• hugging my children.
• playing, playing, playing.
• pausing to help someone in need.

Sometimes it feels like there's not enough time, but there is. There is time to do and grow and be. There is time to rest and hope and trust. There is time to love, and to be loved. I do not want to rush from one moment to the next without noticing the now. I do not want to wait for a mythical future when all the pieces will be in place. I want to cherish today without worrying so much about tomorrow.

My prayer for today: Help us to see as You see, love as You love, do as You would do. Amen.

overwhelmed, but...

I am officially overwhelmed. Classes have now kicked into full gear, and I'm wondering how it will all get done on time, particularly since I am no spring chicken and cannot work past 10:00 p.m. Yesterday there was a student mixer (how is it that I am involved in "mixers" again??) with the 1st and 2nd year OTA students (my program), and the 2nd year students kept lamenting about how much harder the first year gets, though the 2nd year is supposed to be better! Um...not helpful. Thanks.

BUT...I am pleasantly surprised at how much I like the program I've chosen. I picked it because I was interested in it, but also just because I needed to become certified in something that would give me better job prospects, and I had to choose something I could study locally. There actually aren't very many OTA programs, so I'm fortunate that one of them is in Roanoke, because so far, my occupational therapy classes make me excited that I chose this path. Though I am unable to see how school and job and family are all going to play out, I am genuinely excited about becoming an occupational therapist.

It's gonna be a rough 2 years, but also a hopeful 2 years. I am thankful.

thursday thankfulness

• Mom is here! To watch The Boy during this first week of school because his school doesn't start until after Labor Day.
• My Girl loves, loves, LOVES her second grade teacher, even if she was initially disappointed that she didn't get "the man teacher" because, as she says, "I've had woman teachers my whole life!"
• My own classes seem manageable...so far. The real workload hits next week so maybe I'll be singing a different tune then, but for now, I'm feeling OK about the juggling for this semester.
• Facebook has a "hide" feature, which I may have to use liberally during the election season.
• My Boy's shaggy hair that curls when he gets hot.
• Food in the freezer.
• A flexible workplace.
• Some cooler weather.
• Beginning a new adventure outside of the church.
• A textbook that I actually find interesting.
• Living in a home, not a dorm.
• Being a "mature" (not old) student.
• A Man who does the laundry.
• Kids who run to me when I walk in the door.

I am blessed.

beginnings

Today My Girl and I start our new school year! The Girl woke up with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, ready and excited to start second grade.

I woke up with a headache and worry, feeling not-at-all ready or excited to start this 2-year marathon. Perhaps I should take some lessons from My Girl!

I'm hoping that by the end of the week, I'll feel better about what's coming. I believe this is the right place for me to be, but sometimes the right place is not the easy place.

But I am not alone in this place.



Here's to a new beginning...

thursday thankfulness

I find it difficult to read the news. I've been listening to NPR less and less. The incompetence, the tragedy, the stupidity, the despair, the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness - they overwhelm me.

My own incompetence and stupidity and despair and hopelessness - they overwhelm me, too.

And where is God in this? In the world? In me? I guess you could say I've been having a crisis of faith. I can tell you when it started, too - right in the middle of Lent. I suppose that's appropriate, except that Easter never came.

And yet, and yet...

Ann Voskamp says we should see the problem of good as well as the problem of evil. "If there is no God, why is there so much good?" (Augustine)

I am attuned to the problem of evil, but what about the problem of good? I don't notice it enough. Ironic, isn't it, that I named this blog "Bright Life" when I so often struggle to see the brightness. But I know that it's there. I know it. And I believe it will overcome the darkness. I choose to believe it. And I choose to name it. So here goes.

Some Thursday Thankfulness:

• Majestic mountains that remind me to look up and around.
• A small boy who puts his hand on my face.
• A big boy who comes home with a smile on his face.
• A girl who forgives.
• Kids who play and play and play together.
• A boy who is serious about his dancing.
• Knobby, multi-colored tomatoes.
• An unexpected breeze.
• A new kitchen toy.
• A family that enjoys being together.
• A girl who hugs with abandon.
• A small kitchen.
• Hope for tomorrow (and today).
• People, many people, who work to help the least of these.
• Education opportunity.
• Supportive husband.
• Huge hibiscus flower.
• White puffy clouds.
• Safety net.
• A movie that makes me laugh and cry.
• True love - not the kind that waits, but the kind that is ever-present.

making plans

I feel like I've entered a holding pattern. A couple weeks ago, I was gung-ho about making plans - for the family, for the kids, for the fall. Now I've just stopped. Because I'm waiting.

Waiting for the mad rush to hit. And hit it will - next week! School orientation - MY orientation - starts on Tuesday. And then the madness will truly begin.

So I'm holding onto the somewhat still moments right now. Somewhat, because I've still been spending lots of time in the kitchen, but that time of experimenting and planning for stream-lined whole foods production is in itself a kind of stillness. Even in the kitchen I am quiet and waiting and bracing myself for the onslaught of a new adventure.

Fortunately for me, the kiddoes have been playing amazingly well together. Oh, there are clashes, of course. But for long periods of time they travel into their own world of cars and fairies and birthdays and stories, needing very little intervention from me. Sometimes I start to feel guilty about my lack of activity-planning for them, but then I see how much fun they are having on their own! And I am thankful for it.

In these dog days of August, I feel like I've entered the last day of vacation. That day when I really want to relish in the fleeting moment but instead find myself bracing for departure.

In my head, I believe it's important for me to look ahead and make plans for our family. I believe it's important partly because if I don't make plans, I know the days are going to pass in a whirlwind of class and work and schoolwork and home-work, and those fleeting, all-important times of community and togetherness may get lost in the shuffle. I don't want that.

But I also don't know how to plan right now. I don't know how difficult balancing it all will be. Maybe I truly won't have time for any extras without losing my sanity. Maybe rest is the only thing I should plan. Or maybe I need to get out our calendar and start making plans.

Maybe. I don't know. And so I wait.

food

photo by rick, flickr

I've been thinking a lot about food lately.  Not surprising.  I always think about food a lot. 

But recently I've also been worrying a lot about food.  Not in an I-can't-eat-that-it'll-make-me-fat worrying way.  I don't diet.  Never have.  And not because I'm naturally thin.  I have never been thin and have hated my body just as most women do.  But I've tried dieting a few times, and those trials tend to last maybe 24 hours.  Maybe.  I just don't have the discipline.  Or the desire to be that disciplined.  And I like food!

My worry these days is a direct result of watching Food, Inc. a year or so ago and then reading about food production and distribution and politics in the US.  I want to provide the best for my family while also being a faithful steward of the earth.  I want my faith and my food to align.  And so I believe the food we eat should be made locally when possible, should involve as few chemicals and preservatives as possible, should involve humane treatment of animals and farmers, and should be primarily nutritious (not junk).  That is what I believe.  However, this is one case where it is very difficult (for me) to align my belief with my action.

Buying local and organic can be expensive.  Not always.  Our CSA gives us lots of quality veges for a similar-to-grocery-store price, and the peach/apple farm store near us has some great prices on certain produce.  But meat, flour, milk and dairy products - these are often at least twice as much as their conventional grocery counterpart.

And our budget is only getting tighter, not wider.

But even beyond the price issue, buying local and organic and unprocessed means more time in the kitchen.  A good bit more time.  I love CSA days because it's fun to find out what beautiful fresh veges I get to play with in the coming week, but I do not love all the time it takes to clean and prep them.  Buying a bag of frozen chopped spinach is much easier than doing the washing, cooking and chopping oneself.  And bread (which go through in droves - no low-carbing in our household!) is certainly much quicker from a shrinkwrapped package than from our oven. 

Simple living is not so simple.

Right now I'm holding a somewhat middle ground.  I already spend time and money on things that some families would find silly:

• I make yogurt (it's not as hard as it sounds).
• I make ricotta cheese (also, not very hard, and heavenly to eat, but requires cheesecloth which is awful to clean).
• I bake at least a couple loaves of bread a week plus other quick breads and yeasty things (like pizza dough).
• We make our own granola and granola bars (so much better than the store-bought stuff).
• We buy local dairy milk for the kiddoes.
• We eat some local meat (particularly sausage).
• I make most dinner meals from scratch.

And I'm even contemplating attempting recipes for tortillas, pita bread, graham crackers and cheese crackers!  But I also do a lot of other things that true locavores and natural foodies would find appalling:

• I use Splenda in my non-fair-trade coffee.
• I buy bananas regularly.
• I drink regular Kroger milk and buy regular Kroger cheese.
• I fix hot dogs (though I do typically buy the kosher kind).
• I sometimes use margarine (*gasp*).
• I don't buy organic flour or oats.
• I buy Kroger peanut butter.
• I buy regular eggs.
• And many, many more.

Oh my, I start to feel guilty just looking at this list. 

As I approach a chaotic new school year when my time in the kitchen is going to be more limited (or require more sacrifice), where do I draw the lines for our eating?  Where do I align my belief with action, and where do I let practicality (need to pay bills, need to spend time with family, need to sleep) win out?

I hope that I will at least be able to keep up the "already do" list, despite the time.  Then maybe I can tackle one small "want to do" item at a time.  But I'm pretty sure we'll never completely commit to all natural and local foods.  Heck, my family might riot! 

So we'll live with our food somewhere in the middle, and I'll try to be faithful in food decisions without being frantic.  Sometimes I'll use whole, organic foods.  And sometimes I'll just buy the disgusting chicken nuggets!

gearing up



photo by ralphbijker, flickr.com


Since returning from our annual beach vacation with my parents, I found it more difficult than usual to get back into the swing of daily life (including blogging!).  There's more than one reason for this, but one of those reasons is: OH MY WORD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?! I CAN'T BE A STUDENT AGAIN! 

I've passed the initial excitement phase and am fully in the trembling fear phase.  OK, so maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration.  Little bit. 

I feel too old to be starting over, too broke to be taking on such debt, too busy to commit so much time.  I don't fear the academics so much as I fear the amount of time I'll have to invest in it.  I was no good at all-nighters even when I was 20.  How will I manage it all and still be a positive presence in my family?  I don't know.  I just don't know. 

But I know that the long-term goal is valuable.  I know that ultimately this step is about giving our family more flexibility, not less.  And so I know I've got to walk into that classroom, fear or no fear.  And I've got to be a better scheduler! 

I've been slowly working my way back into post-vacation home-management.  And I'm slowly trying to plan for a workable schedule that still allows me time with my family and for the activities I believe are important.  I'm usually a bit of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of gal, particularly when it comes to a daily schedule.  That's going to have to change some.  But I know I'll never be able to fully plan for the life I'm about to step into, so hopefully that fly-by-pants nature will allow me to bend rather than break during these next 2 years.  Hopefully. 

a creative process

Inspired yet again by The Artful Parent (definitely my favorite blog for practical art ideas with young kids), I decided to pull out one of the big blank canvases I got at some time on sale and commission The Girl to make a painting for me.  We talked about how artists are sometimes paid to paint something specific, and so I asked her to paint a big flower for me on the canvas using acrylic craft paint.  I was picturing something like her Van Gogh sunflowers from school art class, but I told her she could decide how to do it.  And she did.  And...well...I didn't love it.  Isn't that awful?!?  She painted a tall, skinny rose, and then covered the background in light blue and lavendar (because she ran out of blue), and then painted bright red squiglies across the background.  It was...odd.

So I thanked her and put it aside to dry and wondered what in the world I was going to do with this large painting that she was very proud of but I didn't care for. 

And then I found this post on process painting at Paint, Cut, Paste.  Aha!  I decided to see if I could convince The Girl to continue to work on the painting with me.  To make it something we painted on a little bit at a time until we were done with it.  No plan, no particular end - just painting. 

She loved the idea!  Thank goodness.

And so we started on our painting, taking the basic shapes she'd already painted and expanding on them while also adding some new shapes.  I added a sun.  She added wind.  As usual - she is the more creative.  Unfortunately, I didn't get a before picture, but here's what we ended up with after our first joint painting day:

You can kind of see where her original rose and the squiglies are.  She was the one who decided to add the light blue slashes, which I thought was brilliant (ok, maybe it's not actually brilliant, but I thought it was very fun!). 

And after one more paint session, The Girl decided it was finished.  So this is our finished project:

Notice she gave it a title.  Yes, we watched Pocahontas recently.

I'm very pleased with the way it turned out, except that there's a little too much of me there.  Though the shapes and colors are mostly hers, a lot of the color blending and final style-look are mine, which is not what I intended.  But she got very focused on those slashes at the end!  Still, I'm very happy we made something together.  And the process helped us both.  I helped her with using a larger space (the canvas is 18x24) and blending color.  And she helped me with her boldness and excitement at trying new things.  It was fun.  We may have to do this again.

And the best part...she gave me $1.52 for my part of the commission.  And I gave her $1.52.  Not the same $1.52.  Oh no, that wouldn't do (I tried it).  A different $1.52.

volcanic eruption

Inspired by Artful Parent, the kiddoes and I made a volcano in our dining room yesterday.  And boy, what is a hit!

I began by making a quick batch of salt dough (4 cups flour, 2 cups salt, 2 cups water, a shot of glycerin).  I made it on the watery side and with glycerin so the kids could mold it more easily.  Really, I should've made more dough, but I ran out of salt.  The kids molded the dough around a quart-size jar (with a little help):

And then decorated the volcano (which is almost as much fun as erupting it) with green playdough, leaves/grass from the yard and doomed lego people:

Having been warned by The Artful Parent, I put some old towels around our tray (note to self: next time use a pan or plate WITHOUT holes in it! - duh):

And then we were ready for the mad scientist part.  We filled the jar about 2/3s full with warm water, blue food coloring (because they wanted blue lava - I should've used more food coloring - you'll notice the lava is only faintly blue-tinged), a few drops of dish soap, and 2 Tbsp baking soda.  Then we stood back and I poured in some vinegar:

I kept pouring in more vinegar to produce multiple eruptions until the volcano was all tuckered out.  I'm not a good photographer at the best of times and had a terrible time with our little camera taking action shots while pouring, but here's a couple of bad photos of the kids' reactions:

There was lots of squealing.  And lots of cheering for dead lego people.  This is something of a violent activity :).  And then lots and lots of water/vinegar and wet salt-dough mess.  Next time I think I'll try to find a piece of cardboard to do it on so we can just dump the thing in the trashcan.  But it was worth it.  A fun indoor activity for a hot summer afternoon.

father's day fun

The Father in our household didn't get home until mid-afternoon on Father's Day because he was away at kids camp.  It made for a long afternoon of waiting, waiting, waiting...but it gave us plenty of time to get our Father's Day goodies ready! 

When Daddy finally arrived, the kiddoes ran out to greet him before he even parked.  And then they carried all his stuff inside - a true Father's Day miracle - where he was greeted with this:

And this:

And then his first present:

A super-hero (and other pop-culture) crown for our own Super-hero Daddy.  Actually he received 2 crowns, because after the kiddoes helped me make this one, The Girl decided it wasn't her style.  So she made another one.  Somehow I didn't get a picture of it (bad mommy), but it had the words "Our Hero" on it as well as a blue ribbon (because it was the best crown, obviously) and a picture of SuperHero Daddy saving the day.

And his second present (idea from Alphamom):

A Hero Survival Kit with this inside:

A letter from The Girl, goodies like Hero Juice and X-ray Vision Drops (with funny tag lines - check the link for the full list), and an "Our Hero" book made by The Girl.  The book involves Hero Daddy saving some people from a falling meteorite, walking home, watching his favorite movie (in his green chair) with his kids and then going to sleep.  Sounds like a good Hero Day :)!

And his final present:

Homemade StarWars toys!  Just print, cut and assemble.  Found at Toy-a-Day.  Are they not so freakin' cute!?!  OK, so maybe die-hard StarWars fans don't care for cute.  But I think they're adorable :). And The Boy loves them.  A good intro to Star Wars, perhaps, as I'm not ready for them to watch the movies yet!

We also made some pictures for the Granddads:

which I printed and framed in a "We Love..." frame.  Man, it was difficult to get a decent picture of the two of them together!  Good photographer, I am not.

And this is how Father's Day ended:

Happy Father's Day to Our SuperHero Daddy (and Granddads)!

summer art

Summer has begun!  I hate the heat, but I am looking forward to the change of pace with the kiddoes.  Though my work schedule doesn't change, we'll have more afternoon time together now.  And since The Boy can get along without a nap (sometimes) these days, we have much more opportunity to make simple plans this summer.  Hopefully we'll take advantage of that.

One thing I know will be a big component of our summer is ART!  And I know that because I'm not primarily responsible for it :).  The kids are both going to art camp this summer - every morning all summer long.  It's a simple, relaxed kind of camp at a small, local church.  The Girl went last year, and this year The Boy gets to join in the fun.  He's very excited, but he'll probably be the youngest there, so I hope he'll be just as excited when he gets home from his first day (today!). 

I also have some artsy kinds of plans for us at home.  First, I need to frame some!  Kid's art, that is.  I'd like to turn one wall of the playroom into a gallery of their art, but I've gotta get the frames and mats (homemade) ready.  My hope is that this will be a constantly changing and evolving kind of gallery.  I just gotta take that first step.

My favorite kids art is the art that they create on their own with whatever materials are available.  No real directions, just process art.  Too many rules can make our art time more stressful and inhibits their exploration and creativitiy.  Now, don't get me wrong - we don't paint on walls here.  But we do sometimes paint on bodies!

This painting is not for the faint-hearted!

Though I'm unlikely to give real art lessons at home, I have been impressed with some of the art that My Girl did in school this year.  And I love that they give us digital copies of some of them:

My favorite is that last one - the Van Gogh flowers.  Gorgeous!  And that snow-woman - the first time I saw that one it was taped to the wall outside her classroom with all the others from her class.  It was immediately apparent which was was My Girl's.  A fanciful explosion is about the best way to describe it!

I love, love, love that my kids are excited about creating, whether it's with paint or crayon or paper or legos.  It's always fun to see what they make.  I remember a mother telling me a few years ago that she didn't allow messy art materials in her house - only the mess-free crayola kind.  And I remember thinking, "But what fun you're missing!" 

down, mama bear

Update on the softball situation: 

I should've pointed out in my last softball post that the games in which I watched My Girl ask her coaches for a chance at pitcher, her head coach was not there.  He was out of town for the week so it was assistant coaches who were running the game.  Assistants who are nice but more intense and stern than the head coach. 

This week the head coach was back.  And My Girl played pitcher in both games this week!  She even got to play first base once, though she had a hard time remembering she was supposed to actually cover the base :).  And in both games, she played infield positions the entire game.  No outfield at all. 

And I had never said a word to anyone.

Sometimes being quiet pays off.

This will be the last year My Girl has this particular coach.  I think I'm going to miss him.  He's been very kind and patient with my funny one.  She's ending the season on a high note, feeling good about herself and her team.  I am proud at how she improved this season.  I am proud at how she continued to play even when she was discouraged.  I am proud that she made a thank you card for her coach after her first game as pitcher.  And I am most proud of the fact that during every game, on the field and on the bench, she cheered for her teammates, jumping up and down for them in great encouragement.  She is My Bright One.

"leap, and the net will appear"

photo © 2009 Rob (via: Wylio)"Leap, and the net will appear" - as seen on facebook, a quote from a bumper-sticker.

Mostly bumper-stickers make me cringe.  Or they make me think, "Yes, but..."  Bumper-sticker wisdom seems too easy, too short, lacking in nuance.  But this particular bumper-sticker speaks to me right now.  Though it flies in the face of how I typically live my security-desiring life, I should've listened to that little nugget sooner.

Because I'm going back to school!  Oh, my.  I swore that the last time I graduated would be the last time.  How silly of me.  I hadn't grasped how the future would unfold, making my degree almost worthless in finding-a-job terms.  Though I've been fortunate to always find some part-time work that allowed us to pay the bills while still allowing me time at home, I've come to a point where I feel the need for more meaningful (and lucrative) work. 

For the last year I have wavered over whether or not to go back to school because I just couldn't get past the financial ramifications of taking on lots of student loans (when I'm no spring chicken).  The one point when I thought I would start taking classes part-time, unexpected house expenses surfaced and I had to drop out.  So finally, finally I decided to just apply for the program I wanted and go for it whole-hog.  No part-time.  No stretching out classes over years and years.  Just do it or don't.  And see where it goes.

I thought I'd have another year to decide.

Because I didn't apply until the program was full, so I knew going in that I'd be wait-listed.

I thought I'd have another year.

On Wednesday I got the letter stating I'd been wait-listed.  On Thursday morning I got a call from admissions offering me a spot.  Hah!

This was the day before we left for our first-ever only-the-four-of-us vacation to DC over Memorial Day weekend, so I frantically filled out the financial aid stuff and went off on our family jaunt, a little in shock.

And well, the financial aid turns out to be better than I expected.  Still daunting, but not as overwhelming as I feared.  And for the first year, at least, (of a 2-year program) I can keep my job.  And I don't think we'll have to pay for extra childcare. 

Why didn't I do this sooner?!?

Because I was scared, and unsure.  And still am, frankly.  I'm a worrier.  But I'm also excited and hopeful for a new direction. 

Sometimes (sometimes!) you just gotta jump.

mama bear

When I held that tiny bundle of pink joy for the first time, I never imagined how she would bless and stretch me.  What fierce love and longing and hope I have for her.  And while I'm more of a hot-air balloon parent than a helicopter one, sometimes my instinct to rush in and defend her kicks in.  Last night was one of those times. 

My Girl is in her second season of playing softball.  She's not a natural athlete, but she has generally enjoyed it, and she's gotten so much better this year, particularly in the field.  She's made a few outs, stopped a few balls, and stayed focused most of the time (rather than making dirt rainbows!).  I know My Girl is a quirky, stubborn one who sometimes struggles to fit in despite her out-going ways, but I've been so proud of her this year. 

She's been getting more and more upset as the season goes on, though, because she never gets to play the pitcher or first base position.  She's played all the other infield positions, but those two are admittedly the most important, and she is not the star of the team.  BUT...all the other girls her age have played pitcher at least once.  And she knows it.  So I talked with her about how to ask her coach politely if she could play pitcher, and I watched her do that after every inning for two games.  And I watched him ignore her every time.  Sometimes it was because so many girls were asking at once, and My Girl is not pushy (surprising, I know).  But sometimes she was just ignored.  Because she's not the best. 

And I wanted to roar a Mama Bear roar. 

Instead I just cried.  Literally.  In my chair behind the bench where I think no one saw me, I cried. 

Over softball for a 6-year-old!  Argh!!!  And not only that, I couldn't go to sleep because I kept thinking about it and obsessing over it.  Grrrr....

But I didn't do anything about it.  I held the Mama Bear in.  Not so surprising, maybe, but it's a little bit intentional, not just a product of my personality.  Because as upset as I was after the game, My Girl wasn't.  For the first time in a few weeks, she didn't cry about how she's not a good player.  She was perfectly happy.  So maybe she should be teaching me - get over it, Mama Bear. 

I want her to figure out how to deal with disappointment without quitting.  I want her to do just what she did - get out and play and cheer on her team and try her best even when she's struggling.  I want her to learn to fight her own battles, and fight them well, with kindness and respect and a willingness to back down when needed.

But if she still doesn't get to play pitcher in her game on Saturday, I may speak to the coach.  Mama Bear won't be silent forever!

friday food for the soul

A few things bright for this day:

• Eating some of our fresh produce from our first CSA delivery!  Love, love, love it.  It may be a little more expensive than buying the cheap stuff at the grocery, but not much.  And it's all organic and local.  And it means we have a bounty of fresh veges each week that we must eat or freeze because we can't waste such goodness!  Worth it. 
• Date Night!  The Man and I are going out for dinner and a movie tonight.  Watch me swoon :).  Though we've gone out to dinner occasionally (very occasionally), I can't remember the last time the two of us went to a movie by ourselves.  And we're going to see Bridesmaids.  I also can't remember the last time I was so excited about seeing a particular movie!  The Man, now, he's excited about much different movies all the time (Thor, Pirates, Transformers, etc.), but for once our interest converges.  It's a good, good day :).
• And to top it all off, tomorrow my Beautiful Friend L is coming from Chicago!!!  I feel I am using too many exclamation points in this post, but really, right now they perfectly express the giddiness I feel.  My sweet sister-in-law is also putting in a visit this weekend.  It's a wonderful, magnificent storm of a weekend!

Now if I can just get the house clean...

small projects

This past week there's been a flurry of activity at our house.  Nothing major, just little things as I try to do a little spring cleaning and get back into the swing of planning small projects for the house and with my kiddoes.  When I'm in my still phase, activity seems overwhelming and burdensome.  Ironically, though, it's often forcing myself back into the activity that lifts my spirits.  Creating something lovely, small though it may be, is healing, I find. 

The kids did a little watercolor and salt painting yesterday. Easy-peasy, but the result is quite striking. It's just liquid watercolor paints (we get ours from Discount School Supply) on thick watercolor paper. Then sprinkle some salt on top when the painting is done but still wet. In a few minutes, the salt produces a crystal-like effect in the watercolor.  The pictures don't do it justice...

Cool! When the paintings were dry, I brushed off the loose salt because I think I may cut them into postcards for our next project...

A Letter-Writing Kit!  I've had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now but never got it together until yesterday after reading a Simple Kids post on making one.  Some of the online tutorials for letter-writing kits involve either materials I don't have or a lot of sewing.  This one, though, is simple - just a folder of stuff.  And I happened to have a folder that is perfect!  I'm working on getting together all the supplies for it, but we've already got the basics, and The Girl is psyched about it.  Let's hope we can keep up the enthusiasm and actually use it on a regular basis.  I'm not good at snail mail myself, so this is as much for me as for the kiddoes.  I'm thinking of instituting Mail Mondays, or some other such gimmick, as a reminder to us all.

I've also done some home hackery things.  And I do mean hackery.  I read about home sew-ers who do it "for the detailing," but I have no patience for such things.  I want to do it and be done with it!  And I'm also such a beginner sewer that it still takes me 4 times as long (at least) as any tutorial says it should take.  So this week I sewed a simple bookcase curtain to hide the mess on our dining room bookcase (library books, cookbooks, tea set stuff, random miscellania).  It's one of those 20 minute projects that took me 2 hours.  But it's done!  And the fabric is an old tablecloth that we never used.  I am queen of the re-purposing.

I also sewed a curtain for the doorway into our playroom (which sometimes doubles as a guest room).  I used a sheet I already had (see - queen).  But I'm not sold on it.  The color is wrong for the space, so I may be home hacking something else.  Sometimes I'd like to just go out and buy pretty fabric, but the re-purposing is a worthy challenge.

I have some plans for a few other projects: curtains (more curtains!) for our master bedroom, hanging curtains in The Girl's room (that I've had for months and months), framing some art (kid art) for the playroom, more bubble painting (I think The Boy is old enough to join in this time), a number of clothing-hackery projects.  We'll see how much I actually get done (before I am distracted by other project ideas)!

with my girl

My Girl and I sometimes struggle to hear each other. We’re so very different. I have to remind myself constantly that she is young, that I don’t need to correct her personality (just sometimes her manners!), that she experiences the world differently than I do. I have to try hard to understand, harder than I imagined in my hazy pre-child days of envisioning parenthood.

And so one of my goals in parenting this strong-willed, sometimes overwhelmed, throw-yourself-into-life kind of girl is that I need to be proactive in sharing moments with her. Not every moment. Just some. It’s important that we make memories together and share joy together. It's important that we talk to each other...and listen.  It’s important that sometimes we just have fun together. And it’s important that I let her be who she is.

Some moments are silly: Mommy Me skirts for Mother’s Day. We went to the fabric store together and I let her pick out any one cotton fabric she wanted. Any. I knew this was dangerous to my conservative dressing sensibility, but she was so very excited by it! And of course she picked out one of the brightest, craziest prints available (bright orange, hot pink, aqua…paisley, flowers, birds…oh my!). But it made into such a fabulous skirt for her. And yes, for me, too. Sometimes My Girl is the one to teach me.

Some moments are artsy: We did shaving cream marbling prints this week, using Artful Parent’s instructions. We’ve done this before to create small wrapping paper, but this time we used cardstock and made cards. The boy did one, too, and they turned out great!

Some moments are quiet: Reading books, for instance. We need to do more of this, at times other than just right before bed, when she’s usually reading with her Daddy, not me. Kimberlee Conway Ireton posted some book recommendations recently, and I’m excited to check some of them out. I’ve already requested a couple from the library.

Some moments are active: Throwing softballs in the yard; going to the park; walking/biking in the neighborhood. Nothing major, but using-our-bodies fun.

And lots of moments are me reveling in the things she does on her own: Focusing (focusing!!!) in the softball field and getting an out at third. Creating the most amazing 3D art – art I certainly never taught her. Learning her part for her play all by herself…and killing it! And always, always joyfully joining in others’ fun.

She’s a great, amazing girl. I hope she hears me say that enough.

when easter seems far away

A couple of you may have noticed that I suddenly stopped blogging about a month ago, in the middle of Lent. This was partly because life got in the way (2 last-minute out-of-town not-for-fun trips, spring break), and partly because I lost my voice. My writing voice. My inner voice. I felt a bit like I was losing my soul.

Which sounds horribly dramatic. It wasn't.

No particular event precipitated my crumbling. I suppose it was the trip to Durham which began the descent. Not the trip itself (which was good), but the coming home that didn't feel like coming home. This feeling is nothing unusual in my world, so I can't blame Durham, but that was the beginning. Or rather, that was the point at which I noticed. There is no beginning.

I recently read this Momastery post about what it's like to have mental illness (it's actually a follow-up post to this one; read them both). I make no claims to having mental illness like Momastery experiences, but I recognize the inborn feeling of "otherness" she describes. Sometimes I feel like I walk through life a little out-of-sync with the world around me. Like everyone copes with life better than me. Only my unhealthy coping mechanism is not bulimia or cutting or drugs. Mine is drawing inward. Becoming still. Too still.

But that stillness is just a mask for the churning inside. A churning that sometimes seems to burn away my margins, leaving me feeling brittle and raw.  It's a churning that ebbs and flows, not a constant.  And it's not something that leaves me unable to function, though I'm sure it makes me harder to live with!  But when the churning becomes a roar, it's hard for me to hear the small voice of hope and faith that still resides within.  It's still there, unconsumed but overwhelmed.

I won't go into details about the inner drama in this public space.  I'll just say that the churning has subsided somewhat for now, and I am working on some steps to keep it at bay.  But as my main goal for this space is a record for my children, I want to write this to them:

I hope and pray that you do not inherit my out-of-sync-ness, but if you do, please know that you are not alone. And though life may sometimes seem harder than it should be for no good reason, the brightness may also be brighter. Please ask for help when you need it. Talk to someone, even when you're not sure you have the words. Hold onto hope and life's gifts one day at a time.  And most of all, know that you are loved, oh-so-much, just as you are.

mother's day

These are the words I spoke at our church last year, 2010, on Mother's Day:

For many years now, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with Mother’s Day.
I love it because I have an amazing mother who has always loved me unconditionally and who is a great model for me of a Woman of God so it’s wonderful for me to celebrate my own mother and the amazing influence she has had.

It’s wonderful for me, But I know that’s not true for everyone.

I love Mother’s Day because I have 2 beautiful kids and it’s wonderful for me to celebrate the great gift that motherhood is.

It’s wonderful for me, But I know that’s not true for everyone.

6 ½ years ago I was sitting in a sanctuary very similar to this one during a different holiday season. It was the second week of Advent and the worship focus for that day was Hope. Now Hope sounds like a strong, life-affirming, positive word. It’s a word to hold onto in good times and in bad. But it can also be a very difficult word, and on that day in that sanctuary, I really, really wanted to let go of hope. It seemed almost cruel.

A few months before I had been told it would be difficult if not impossible for us to have biological children. I had started taking medicine to help, but it was only the first step in a multi-step medical process, and on top of that, the medicine wasn’t working. And I knew if that medicine didn’t work then I would never be pregnant. And I was devastated. And here we were talking about hope. I hoped and hoped and hoped, but really I just wanted to know – would it work or not, because it was too painful to hope. I remember nothing about that worship service except that I sat in that sanctuary and cried.

A week later the theme for the worship service was joy, which felt kind of like a slap in the face even though I knew that joy is something deeper than circumstantial, and ultimately a beautiful promise from God. But at that moment in time, I was exhausted and joy was hard for me to see.... Until that Saturday, when I found out, miraculously, against-all-odds, I was pregnant. And in that moment, I knew pure, amazing, wonderful joy. And I cried a different kind of tears. And I am grateful every day for that beautiful gift.

But, of course, that perfect, unadulterated joy didn’t last. Almost as soon as I found out I was pregnant, new worries started. This might be my only pregnancy, would I be able to keep the baby or would I miscarry? Would I eat the right things, exercise the right way, be the right mother? Was I possibly up to the task of birthing new life? And, of course, I wasn’t. Not really.

My beautiful baby girl was perfect, but she also had medical problems and spent the first year of her life in a cast or brace. Then there were developmental issues and therapists. And I was overwhelmed and I worried. But I also laughed and I celebrated with each new step. And so I struggled with motherhood - this great gift and this great responsibility. Still do. Every day. I love being a mother, but it’s not a Hallmark, flowers and candy kind of love.

So what do I do with Mother’s Day? Because I also know that while I got my miracle, 2 of them, many others don’t get that same miracle. And others choose not be mothers, and others have difficult relationships with their own mothers. And for those women and men, Mother’s Day can be a trial. I remember what it was to hate coming to church on Mother’s Day. And so what do we do with Mother’s Day?

Well, motherhood in Scripture isn’t a Hallmark, flowers and candy kind of thing either. So many of the stories of mothers in the Bible are as much about struggle as they are about joy. Beginning with Eve, all the way through Mary, the stories of mothers are often heart-breaking. Mothers who struggled with infertility, mothers who died giving birth, mothers whose children did horrible things, mothers whose children died in horrible ways.

But motherhood in Scripture is also an amazing honor. What a great gift God has given us to give birth to new life. It’s the gift to follow in God’s footsteps, our first Mother, who gave birth to us all. It’s the gift to mold and shape new life. We do it imperfectly, for sure, but we do it with both love and trial, joy and pain. And then we let that new life go, just as God let us go, not abandoning us, but setting us free with love and support and hope.

Since becoming a mother, I often think, well, this isn’t quite what I expected. It makes me wonder how often God thinks that about us. Well, Susan, that’s not the choice I would’ve made for you. Well, Susan, you’re quite a lot of trouble sometimes. But Susan, you are beautiful and worth every bit of trouble. Because birthing new life is beautiful. We see that beauty is these gorgeous babies and children before us. But we also see that beauty in the birth of new ideas, new love, new work, new relationships, new community, new challenges, new life all around us. Whether we are biological mothers or not, we can all be involved in bearing new life and love for our world. Jesus, after all, was never a parent. And yet he brought amazing life to us all. A life of love, generosity, beauty, and joy. And a life of struggle. He, above all, showed us that God’s abundant life is worth the struggle and the pain.

And so today, on Mother’s Day, I want to honor all of you who birth new life, in many and varied ways. I thank all of you who bear the pain and the determination and the discipline of delivering abundant life to our world. And I celebrate with all of you the beauty of new life. Happy Mother’s Day.

a long way to go

photo © 2009 taylorandayumi (via: Wylio)Yesterday as we were driving to her swimming lesson, My Girl suddenly asks why her daddy is a pastor.  My un-eloquent response: "Um, because he believes God wants him to be."

And her response to that: "I don't think I'll be a pastor.  That's mostly a men's thing." ARGH!!!

It wasn't very long ago that she was planning to go to seminary and be a children's pastor just like her daddy.  But not anymore, apparently.

Which is perfectly fine.  Heck, she's only 6.  I've only known one person who knew definitively what she was going to be at age 6 (a pediatrician, which she now is at age 36).  And I have no great desire for my daughter to be a pastor.  Not because she's a girl, but because I know how crazy hard this pastor's life can be, and really, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

But it bothers me that already she has picked up our cultural clues that being a pastor is "mostly" a male thing.  It's not that she thinks a woman can't be a pastor.  Just this past week our female music pastor preached at our church.  And we've visited with friends at a local church with a woman senior pastor.  But still, almost everyone she sees in a pulpit is a man.  I can say, "Women can be pastors; women can be pastors!" as much as I want, but until she sees that women really are pastors, including senior pastors, my words aren't going to mean much.  Not to this child who has reached the age where being alike is very important.

It just goes to show that churches may preach whatever they want, but if their actions don't match their words, it's the actions that are going to teach.

senior adult prom

Yes, though we are neither seniors nor adults (well, 2 of us), we went to our church's Senior Adult Prom last Friday night.  I was skeptical.  Though at the last minute some info went out that everyone at the church was welcome, it was still intended to be for senior adults, with youth "chaperones."  Which is totally cool, but not necessarily appropriate for my small but rambunctious family.  But My Man was DJ'ing the event and it was the kids' only chance to see him that day, so we went, with me thinking we wouldn't stay long.

As it turns out, we were the ONLY young family there.  Not surprising, but I had told the kiddoes I thought there'd be a couple other young ones around.  And when we got there, it was quite a bit like walking into a middle school dance.  Lots of standing around, staring at one another, afraid to touch the food until someone says OK, and definitely no dancing on the dance floor.  Goodness gracious, and we were expecting these lifelong Baptists to dance?!?  What were we thinking?

Even my usually out-going, no-holds-barred Girl was infected by the middle school mania.  She would not dance.  Not even her signature moves!  So instead she climbed on chairs.  And Daddy when he wasn't playing music.  And me.  And whatever else she could climb on.  Oh, and she ate, as did The Boy.  They ate and ate and ate.  Heck, they put the food tables right out where everyone could get to them!  I lost count of the times I wiped food off the floor or caught food coming out of mouths when it wasn't what they expected. 

So let me repeat - I was skeptical.

But then something happened.  Some of the senior couples started dancing among the tables.  Not on the dance floor, mind you, but among the tables.  And then so did my kids.  Even the Shy One!  And gradually people moved their way to the dance floor.  By the end of the evening, there was lots of dance floor dancing, and my kids were right in the middle of it.  The Girl spent whole songs in the middle of the spotlight, refusing to share it with anyone else!  And The Boy even joined the cha-cha slide line.  My Boy!  My Reserved-in-public One!  What happened??

What happened was a great and fun time.  And I am so very thankful we went.  We all had a blast, every last one of us.  And you know what - I'm even a little thankful that we were the only young family.  Because those seniors and those youth welcomed my kids with open arms in a way that probably wouldn't have happened if there'd been a posse of the little hellions.  And while I appreciate our church for a number of things, one of the things that I miss about our previous church is the greater inter-generational interaction there.  It was a smaller church with fewer young families, so it was just easier to know and interact with people of different ages.  I miss that.

But I am thankful for this one special night when I was reminded of how great a church for all ages can be.  And how blessed we can be when we cross those invisible barriers sometimes. 

home

photo © 2005 Jeffrey (via: Wylio)This week I went to Durham for a couple days to visit a friend, and it felt like coming home.  Coming home to a place, not just people, which I'm not sure I've ever felt before.  Ever. 

My family moved around a good bit when I was a kid, so I never associated home with a particular place.  Home was wherever my family was.  This lack of place-based home has been a blessing in some ways.  It means I'm always excited about new places and don't find leaving horribly heart-rending.  But it also means I feel a little disconnected from the idea of home.  My roots are shallow and scattered.  And though home is still mostly the people I love, as it should be, I could move with those people just about anywhere (in the country at least) and still call it home, even when I feel like an outsider in the community. 

So when I found myself struggling not to cry as I was leaving Durham, I was a bit taken aback.  Because as much as I would've loved to stay with my friend another day, it wasn't leaving her that was making me cry.  It was leaving Durham.  I could feel it physically in my chest. 

So maybe I do have a place-based home after all.  Which kind of makes me sad.  Because I may never live there again, and frankly, I don't want to yearn for a place I cannot have.

But I am hopeful.  Hopeful that eventually this new adopted place will become home.  Hopeful that eventually that trip back up into the mountains will inspire the same kind of yearning.  Hopeful that eventually living here will just feel right rather than novel.  It could happen.