Abby's Ballad

"I'm (n)inja Abby.
I'm Inja Abby.
We are the Inja Girls.
The spiders are sad and my mom is working on her ipad
I PAD!!!!
It makes me happy!
I am a precious girl, girl...
watch me I (know) how to jump!

She's an original, that girl. And I'm the only one who got to hear that particular song; and it's a one and done kinda thing. No one will ever hear that particular song again. I am the lucky one.

So anyway....life is bumpy post-move. We're kinda taking a pummeling. Caleb is struggling in school. Emma is struggling in school. Ethan isn't actually struggling much, but he likes to complain sometimes anyway. Abby and I are pretty much sick of hanging out with each other - we are the only people we know and we've henceforth been too busy with survival to meet anybody.Eddie is treading water at work, busting his *ss to keep afloat. So last week I'd had it. HAD IT! I decided I was done watching my family take a beating, and I would not sit idly by and watch it happen.

"Dammit", I said. And I really meant damn-it; like Satan, you and your minions are headed to Hell, and let me help you on your way. You will not wreak havoc on my family. So I've been getting up early and praying, praying, praying.

God and I had a little heart to heart.

"You said you wouldn't leave us, you said you'd never forsake. GOD, do you hear me? We are drowning here! Show up!"

I've been reading this book off and on; It's called "When God Interrupts". When I don't hate it I really like it. The author says, and I paraphrase, "When you feel as though you've been abandoned by God you've only been abandoned by the God of your own making. Not the real God. He doesn't abandon and He doesn't behave how we believe he should. He's the Jesus that showed up after Lazarus died, not before. He's the Jesus who waited till after the grief and loss to make an appearance, and He's the mysterious one who doesn't abandon and never forsakes. He is the One worth knowing."

And though we are in the thick of it, and we are still taking a beating, I do believe we have not been abandoned. More than that, He has been gracious in his blessings.

-We found a church we like (an ironic story for another day)
-We got a great doctor, and some teachers who are really on the ball sorting through the crisis with Caleb.
-Abby (or theoretically special needs child) is doing really well. We found her a preschool too.
-We live in a beautiful place, and somehow it soothes when the suckage here gets pretty intense.
-Eddie has someone at works who understands.
-Caleb made a friend. So did the other kids.
-A lady I met invited me to coffee; I might soon have a friend in this fine state.
-Wine is yummy and cheap when you live this close to Napa.

So it's a mixed bag. Hard stuff. Lots of blessing too. Then more hard stuff.

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.

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

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.