On Community... or lack thereof.

We love Colorado for lots of reasons. The climate. The mountains. The blue sky. But, mostly, we love the people.

California has lots to love too. The Pacific Ocean. Need I say more?

It does not, however, have our peeps. We have a real live grandma and grandpa and great grandma and grandpa in Colorado. We have aunties, and uncles and surrogates by the dozen. We were loved by and love some really amazing people in the fine state of Colorado.

And that is a wealth that is hard to come by. So our search for community in California has begun, and we feel like those poor blokes in the gold rush. Treasure isn't easy.

We started our prospecting at church, because as much as I sometimes hate church, I love it more. Our dearest friendships, and most loyal war buddies have nearly always been forged at church. So we went. And there was a choir, and some of the women wore panty hose, and a fair number of the dudes wore ties. I had some PTSD-type flashbacks to my Baptist roots. I begged Eddie not to make me go in while we were still in the parking lot. Eddie told me to put on my big girl pants. So, I did. It wasn't TERRIBLE. I actually liked the hymns, and watching my 8 year old rock out to the orchestra.

Alas, this was not our community.

We miss Gary Duncan greeting us with a warm smile and an off-color joke as we walk in the door to church. Where can you get that, I ask?

Do they even make churches like that in California?

I hope so, because we could use a little church without the varnish. We don't have the time or inclination for the spit and polish. We'd just like to meet some folk who love Jesus. Like REALLY. LOVE. JESUS. You'd that church would be a good place to look.

Then maybe they could come over, and grill burgers and drink beer, and lemonade. And we could be friends.

I guess I'm thankful that I know what the mother lode looks like. I know the taste and texture of real community. I know the good and gritty of true, deep friendship. I know what I'm looking for, because I know what it's like to live rich - the affluence of love.

So if your a praying person, pray. Pray, that we will find this treasure, and our kids will live this treasure too. We want this kind of wealth for their future more than the type that will buy a glass mansion teetering on the edge of a the hills overlooking The Bay.

Rich friendship.
Real community.
To know and be known.

Head in a Cardboard Box

I don't have my head in the sand.

It's in a cardboard box . Figuratively. Figuratively - ish. My head has been in a cardboard box, literally, more often as of late. But figuratively, my head has been in a box too. Or maybe there are boxes in my head. The analogy is crummy, but the fact is still true. Moving across the country has consumed all of my headspace.

Today I listened to NPR and discovered that the economy sucks in Europe and its affecting the Euro. Yeah..missed that one. Probably most other stuff too. 'Cause, as I said, my head has been literally and figuratively in a box.

I would like to re-emerge from corrugated cardboard, but I feel it may yet be weeks away.

Week 2 in California

Week 2; status report:

-The kitchen is unpacked.
-The bedrooms are unpacked.
-The bathrooms are unpacked.
-There are still boxes.
-I am tired of boxes.

Mostly, these remaining boxes contain pictures, mirrors and other wall hangings. There is also a smattering of office supply boxes and a few boxes of unpacked books (for which we have no shelving). In another 2 weeks I am hoping to be living in a box free home.

The biggest unpacking frustration is the lack of a good linen closet in our new house. Our current "linen closet" looks remarkably like a large cardboard box. It contains towels, sheets, Children's Tylenol and toilet bowl cleaner all mixed up together. The packers were men who didn't understand the finer points of linen closet packing - apparently. Or, maybe the just didn't care, and dumped everything into a wardrobe box figuring we'd be in California and too far away to hunt them down - yeah, that's probably it.

What this new abode lacks in linen closets it makes up in location. We are literally right next to an open space. A 1 minute walk up a small hill yields views of the bay. At sunset it is breathtaking. B.R.E.A.T.H. T.A.K.I.N.G. And if by chance you walk a minute down the hill, you will cross a little bridge and discover yourself walking on a path lined on one side with blackberry bushes....which taste yummy in scones. As I said, the kitchen is unpacked. If you keep walking down the blackberry path you'll cross a road, and enter Lake Chabot Park and Open Space. There are miles of trails, great fishing spots, and importantly, a snack shack that sells Push-up Pops. Ethan cannot wait for his friend Jonah to visit. Jonah loves to fish. Ethan loves push-up pops. The days have been planned, furthermore Jonah's entire future has been planned, as the kids have decided he should become a Park Ranger at Lake Chabot. Actually, that might be a good gig for Jonah, but as he is 10, we will give him a few years before he has to decide.

This is Small Town, USA - the neighbors are friendly, and charmingly nosey. The old guy down the street brought over beer to share with Eddie. They sat on the porch shooting the breeze for a couple of hours. Freshly picked orchard apples have been left on our porch. Flower's delivered, and a dozen of introductions made. Nice place, this.

But it has not all been sunshine and roses (or blackberries and sunsets). We still don't have our internet working. The California branch of ATT must hire employees from a pool of high school drop outs and losers. We are under-impressed. Our cable doesn't work, either. And pretty much nothing is straight forward. There are big emotions and their coinciding behaviors happening round here. Eddie's work is overwhelming, and challenging. I don't often see him legitimately "frazzed" (I just made up that word). The dude can handle more responsibility and stress than most everyone I know. But he's "frazzed".

Today, we're finalizing the kids school enrollment. Tomorrow should be there first day. We are all freaking slightly...the poor kids have to start another new school, and mid-year this time. Here's betting a therapist will here about it 15 years from now...

So breakfast needs to be served, and I am the short order cook round here. I must be done. More to come...

soon

It is Tuesday evening and the truck pulls out on Friday morning. Hyperventilating here.

I said goodbye to my mom and my sister and my best friend today. I love them all dearly. Bittersweet.

My husband is in Castro Valley and I am in Northglenn. We are states away, and I am sick of it. Lonely for him.

And in the middle of it am feeling so blessed. Because I have a husband I miss. Because I have a family to love and who loves me.
And because I have a friend who has loved me through many seasons. Because I have a God who never changes and never abandons and he is good yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Amen and Amen

Funny thing just to remember and 13 years.

Abby is cute these days. And sweet. She's just loving preschool and is a sponge. I need to post a picture and tell the stories so I don't forget 4 - it's worth remembering how she sports the superman suit with pink cowboy boots and pig tails. It's worth remembering how she is so proud to write her name.

While Eddie and I were house hunting in California my parents and dear friend, Dawn split kid watching duty. My dad overheard this comment:

" Grandpa has curly hair, Mommy has curly hair. Abby has normal hair. Dad just has a head!"


Love it.

But that daddy with just a head, is her favorite. They've got a special thing going on the two of them.

Caleb - because he is himself, did a funny thing too. He wore his pajamas to school because he thought it was Pajama Day. His siblings told him that it's actually next week. I suggested that he wear jeans and pack jammies just to be safe. But he was surely sure it was today. He was wrong. Luckily, Caleb wears hand-me-down karate pants as jammies, so no one even noticed. Well I'm sure someone noticed, but not for the reason Caleb thought. It's just that red spiderman t-shirts, white Karate pants and brown hiking boots are kinda a fashion statement in and of themselves. He was so utterly unflustered by the whole thing, I wonder if his feet touch the ground at all some days. When I was his age mine rarely did. The drummer in this kid's head plays a rhythm few others hear....and I like it.

Ethan is 5 foot 3 , give or take I figure I have until he is twelve to still be taller than him. How can this be so? I rocked in my arms and then I blinked. He is a young man to be proud of, and I can measure my life in his inches. The Silicon Valley is only a bridge away from our town, and I'm thinking it's just the place for him.You should see the things he invents - he's brilliant and I pray the world will not squash it.

Emma had the good sense to be born in the daytime, and not interrupt my sleep. Emma has good sense. Always. And opinions. Always. She is her father and my sister, Amanda, wrapped up together - though I most distinctly remember giving birth to this child - it's not a thing one forgets. Still she is practical, and hard-hardworking, and a cheerful and sweet. She is a rock-star babysitter even though she is technically too young, she is old too; she's worn a lot of responsibility. Emma is not so much like me but is so many things I admire in the people I like the best.

I'm feeling sick to my stomach sad, and torn about moving next week. It's the big hairy unknown that looms and its autumn in Colorado - my favorite. We are leaving so much. But my favorite things are coming with me. These 4, and the man I love.

And in case I forget in the craziness Happy Nearly Anniversary, Eddie. These 13 years have been a breath and a lifetime. I'm too much a cynic to believe in love at first sight, but with you it was a near thing. And its only gotten better, richer, sweeter, and deeper. I'd move to the moon to be with you.

Beautiful Things Out of the Dust

I haven't blogged for months. I've been busy. And I've been in denial. But reality has a way of rearing its ugly head, so here I am, telling the truth.

We're Moving.
Out of state.
Like Northern California out of state...
In 10 days.

Thus the busyness and the denial.

The Reader's Digest Version of the story is this: Eddie had been traveling to good ol' CA for months, and the bulk of his work had shifted west. We missed him, and decided we should all live in the same state all of the time. We're making it happen quickly, because, right or wrong, we've embraced the "rip the bandaid off" approach to trauma management.

I should have emotions about this. I am sure that I do, and they are likely strong and overwhelming emotions. But I am not feeling these emotions as they are nicely stowed away in my knapsack called Denial. Every once in a while they creep out and I am paralyzed by their force. So back in they go; I'll carry them across state lines and unpack the loneliness, grief, and sadness there. After the boxes.

I tote the knapsack - it will HAVE to be unpacked. But I carry with me these two true things as well. 1. Just because I know the blessings I am leaving here, doesn't mean that God doesn't have some (yet unseen) blessings in store for us in Northern California. 2. God always creates beautiful things out of dust. It's kind of his M.O. So what feels like loss, can and will be something lovely - someday.

And their are the views of the San Francisco Bay, and the lovely walking paths around Lake Chabot. And Muir Woods, and Napa Valley, and my darling Mediterranean style house with all the french doors and a lemon tree. There is the actual real diversity of people and people groups, and there is sleeping next to my husband every night of the week. Plus, there is the story being lived out in front of my children that just because it's hard, and scary doesn't mean you don't do it. Good adventures are always hard and scary, the safe ones are never the stories worth telling.