It's Christmas time in the city...

Sitting in the living room, admiring our newly lit tree, and feeling all cozy...can it really be Christmas time again? We held a Christmas pageant, went to see Santa, hung the stockings, and decorated the tree. The traditions are rich, the years have imprinted them on our souls and into our hearts. This time of year is ripe with nostalgia, hope for the future, and meandering through the past. And now we begin to imprint new beings, new souls with the traditions. And with the onslaught of consumerism knocking at our door, the songs singing love to Santa and hope for presents we look and search to remind ourselves and our children of why our family celebrates Christmas. And the riches we seek are far greater than any tradition or boutique can offer.

Sitting around our home is a wonderful book of poems by a woman who I believe has taken the story of our world and woven from it new stories and images that speak to the core of my heart. I have read some of her fiction, the Wrinkle in Time series, and fell in love with her scientific views of the soul. She intertwines science, faith, mystery, and fantasy so well and her poetry also reflects that. So I'm going to share a poem, more like a short story, of hers that spoke to me regarding this season we are upon, this season of gifts. It's not really a nativity poem, it speaks less of the holy one born and more of the state we find ourselves in as human beings. And in a year where war is still waging, where the hungry stay hungry, where children are dying, and the earth itself is heaving, my soul looks as does the woman in the poem, looks for the balance to shift. I am reminded of what I am celebrating this Christmas season, not just the birth of God incarnate, that's said so flippantly, but what I want to get at is beyond celebrating a birthday, it's more, it's recognizing the coming of the kingdom of heaven, it's redemption of humanity. And so we wait in a world that is still full of cruelty, we hold our breath with a hoping only made possible by this birth we celebrate, hoping for the world to be made new.

Here is it, by Madeleine L'Engle, Eve.

When we left the garden we knew it would be forever.

The new world we entered was dark and strange. Nights were

cold.

We lay together for warmth, and because we were afraid

of the un-named animals, and of the others: we had never

known about the giants, and angels gone wild. We had not been

told

of dwarves and elves; they teased us; we hid whenever they played.

Adam held me. When my belly grew taut and began to swell

I didn't know what was happening. I thought it was the beginning

of death, the very first death. I clung to Adam and cried.

As I grew bigger something within me moved. One day I fell

and the pains started. A true angel came and pushed the grinning

creatures back. Adam helped. There was tearing. I thought I'd

died.

Instead, from within me came a tiny thing, a new creature,

red-faced, bellowing, mouth groping for my breast.

This was not death, but birth, and joy came to my heart again.

This was the first-born child. How I did laugh and sing!

But from this birth came death. He never gave me any rest.

And then he killed his brother. Oh, my child. Oh, my son Cain.

I watched from then on over every birth,

seeing in each babe cruelty ready to kill compassion.

For centuries the pattern did not change. Birth always meant death.

Each manchild who was born upon the longing earth

in gratefulness and joy brought me only a fresh ration

of tears. I had let hate into the world with that first breath.

Yet something made me hope. Each baby born

brought me hurrying, bringing, as in the old tales, a gift

looking - for what? I went to every slum and cave and palace

seeking the mothers, thinking that at least I could warn

their hearts. Thus perhaps the balance might shift

and kindness and concern replace self-will and malice.

So I was waiting at that extraordinary intersection

of Eternity and Time when David's son (Adam's too)

was born. I watched the Incarnate at his mother's breast

making, by his humble, holy birth the one possible correction

of all that I by disobedience had done. I knelt and saw new

Adam, and I cried, "My son!" and came at last to rest.

An Artist's Mind

Artists minds intrigue me. They set the bar for thinking outside the box. Somehow they tend to see the world in a way that the rest of the population doesn't and then they create something magical for the rest of us to engage with. I've always wondered why that is, why a certain person is able to express a vision of reality so far from what I tend to live in. One day, I was listening to NPR and they were talking about a piano composer who has a rare condition called synesthesia. With this neurological 'condition' her brain actually associates each note with a hue of color. She not only hears notes, she hears colors. She's not making up colors to go with her music, she's not putting something on to be more than she is, it's just how her mind works. And I finally got it. Not to say that all artists have neurological conditions, but it finally dawned on me that each artist who is creating something boundless and beyond reality, really does see the world with an amazing twist. They aren't trying to come up with something artistic, or even edgy, they are simply putting substance to what is in their mind. Life may be full of sound, or light, they may see more colors, or feel more textures. Whatever it is that inspires them, they create a world for the rest of us to ponder, where we can begin to see our world in a new way too. That expression is bold. It suddenly isn't just a painting, or a song, it is instead the laying bare of a person's soul to show us something new.

I heard a few new songs this week, some Christmas songs from an inspiring musician. He released 3 songs online, none of them like any Christmas music I have heard as of yet. Instead of the bright, flourescent music reminiscent of department store shopping, his songs wore a fleshier note, a little less flashy and a bit more like what I imagine the birth of a baby in a barn to be like, and not just any baby, but one who holds the realms of humanity and spirituality in his soul. Mysterious, insightful, and thoughtful the songs drew me into a different place. A new, slower paced season full of love for each other. Less Santa Claus, more coming in from the snow for some hot cocoa. You can check it out yourself at aaronstrumpel.com.

And so, now inspired, I am setting out to find more artwork, music, new places that bring me beyond my reality and into a new one. Ways to see the soul of humanity, the realms of divinity, and the realities of other minds laid out for all to peruse. If you find someone who has inspired you, please let me know so I can check them out too.

Taking Steps

3 weeks ago we started our son in swim lessons. It's his 3rd session, at the same level, and we are suddenly beginning to see improvement, an urge to swim. So tonight he donned his swimsuit and he and I headed to the pool. The lesson was held in the shallow end of the pool where all the kids could touch the floor. As they huddled together on the stairs, their little bodies shivering with the chill of the air and the excitement of beginning the lesson, my mind went back to those times in my own life when I could hardly contain myself from running around excited about this or that. Those moments of joy and wonder at the greatness of the world and the adventure. Taking in that breath of fresh life I wondered at the times in life that I still find that, times when life seems brand new all over again. As a mother, I think I often let myself experience that joy through my children and forget that I too can find those moments when life feels like it is expanding beyond what my experience and psyche can handle.

This evening I watched as my son retrieved rings from the bottom of the pool, a surprise to all of us. The joy and the pride that lit upon his face was magical. He looked around to see if anyone had actually seen what he had just done. And suddenly he was dunking himself underwater seeing how long he would last, testing this new thing against himself and deciding what he was capable of. It was amazing to see it happen, learning visibly lived out in front of me. I felt like I was looking in on Newton and the apple, discovering gravity. It's a process that we so often lose as adults. In childhood, teen years, or if you're lucky, you won't experience this until adulthood, we decide or are told that we should be good at something from the first time we publicly try it. We can practice all we want at home, but once in public, we should have it down. And then the joy of the learning process disappears. Without encouragement, our children can lose their boldness to the wide world of perfection. How sad to see a change from joy and testing and accomplishing and to instead see fear and trepidation. While we can't always control that or blame ourselves if that happens, we can keep our eyes open. Open to the possibilities, open to what is happening in our child's life, and even open to modeling a life full of testing, failure, and accomplishment in front of them. It's something I myself may have to be re-taught by my children, and then holding onto that process my life can reflect the joy of learning back to them.

It was not only my son who caught my eye, but another little boy. He began the lesson standing beside the pool. The look in his eyes was wary of even touching the water. Back and forth the instructor slowly included him in the games they were playing and soon a toe dunked itself in the pool. Then a step, then sitting on the steps...still unsure if he would join in. But the end of the night he had found his courage and was in the pool walking around and somewhat enjoying himself. It was inspiring. My heart wanted to stand up and applaud him and acknowledge the steps he had taken to enter into life. And I left wondering what it would be like if we applauded each other in every day life more often. If, when we see a friend take a step toward something new, dip a toe in, maybe fall in only to gasp for air, but to begin the process of seeing themselves and exploring how they want to live life and instead of silently standing by we encouraged them, hoped for them, and applauded even the little steps. I hope at the end of my life I have found myself and my family surrounded by people who live together in a world that is always expanding, a world that feels new and full of potential.

We are cynical folks here in the city and we don't usually like to admit that we don't know or haven't experienced everything, but that cynicism holds us back keeping us from stepping out, finding our courage, and swimming into all the potential we have. My goal has always been to be in the pool swimming instead of relishing looking down at the water full of excitement and joy at what could happen. So here we stand, our family, looking down into the future, we have goals and dreams, but right now we are wary and unsure of what each step will bring. And I've been given a lesson, by two children, on courage, joy, and experiencing the process of growth. I guess I will follow their lead. It might be a tiptoe or a leap, but here we go, we're taking steps.

Busi-ness. I've been busy. Too busy. So busy in fact, that we forgot a very special delivery we were to make tonight. I can't even remember what day it is, we're here then there, we're all over the place and I'm beginning to lose track. Some people think busi-ness is next to godliness, a close second to cleanliness. It's good to be busy, it means you're active in life, taking it all in, leaving nothing left undone, untouched, or unlived. One of our favorite mentors in life has instead likened busi-ness to an enemy of our soul. Taking our time, stripping us of truly allowing space in our lives to welcome the stranger or fill a need around us, it can reek havoc on family relationships and drive us apart. I land somewhere in the middle. I like to go. I like to be in the car on a trip with something new and exciting do, but I can see where too much of this can strain a family, especially children. On Friday, we were heading out the door and my son says to me, I want to stay home. He never wants to stay home, so I was surprised and it stopped me for a minute to reflect on how hectic this past week has felt. Full of appointments and drop offs and pick ups, I dragged them all over the city. Twice.

It's not that all those activities are not worthwhile. They are, each and every one of them serves a purpose that I look to fill in my family's life. But shoved too closely together, too many activities can instead take away from family life. As people, we need each other. More than we need soccer or swimming or even preschool and doctor's appointments, we need to know that we are loved by one another. And that can be hard when the relationship too often becomes about convincing someone (most likely the child) that it is in fact time to go, again. Put on the shoes, put on your coat, come on, we're running late! How many times a week can one person hear that before they put on their brakes and say, I want to stay home. I want to be here with you, building train tracks, building memories and love.

And so today I am reminded to slow down. To bake an apple crisp, take a walk in the crisp fall air, to be present to my family and to live with that being enough. We all have goals, aspirations, hopes and dreams to pursue, but there will be another day for that. Today is pure bliss of sunshine and hand holding. It is love being given and taken. We all need to put on the brakes, slow down, make space for the unexpected and be gracious. Here's to next week looking a little more like that and little less like last week.

By the way, one of the things that has been keeping us busy is an amazing greenhouse/yard shed we've been building out of reclaimed materials. It's our first ever Worden Building Project and going better than I expected. I'll post photos soon.

Against the Tide

As we move in and are now settled into a routine with our son back in preschool and life calming down a bit, I have started to notice things about this city that I have never noticed before. Last weekend my husband took the kids for the day so I could have some time to think adult thoughts that wouldn't be interrupted every 15 seconds by someone else's needs and so I headed down to one of my favorite neighborhoods of Seattle, at least it was 4 years ago before kids happened.

When we moved here Ballard was an up and coming neighborhood, boasting proximity to downtown and not overly developed it maintained a piece of what I call Old School Seattle. I was surprised then to find this area overrun with condos, hip young professionals, and a grumpy attitude. And the more I look around as I drive, shop, and encounter people in this city I find myself surrounded by so much standoffishness that it leads one close to the edge of pure loneliness. Cities that are so dense with people have a strange way of causing more walls to go up. It must be some sort of self-preservation instinct, but when you realize that this attitude has reached your doorstep and you can't shake off the grump at home, it's time to start a smile revolution. Yes, I'm talking about smiling in public, at strangers, for no apparent reason except to be cheerful. So if you see me walking down the sidewalk in the gloomy rain of the coming winter with a smile plastered on my face, no I have not gone crazy, I am simply choosing joy.

For me, joy and contentment are linked, they are sisters that we so often see running away from us as we are blindsided by despair or fear. But when we are walking with them they hold each other up and they hold us up to face the realities of life. One of my realities right now is that we live in a climate that truly affects my mood and for too long I have grumbled through winter holed up at home feeling lethargic, but this winter I am going to explore, get out, probably get rained on, and have silly fun with my kids. I am going to smile when I feel like Oscar the Grouch has taken over my body. We are surrounded by talk of living authentic lives, being always true outwardly to our inward selves and while I think that it is important to allow ourselves to feel negative feelings and express them I am a bit concerned about a culture that that lives so deeply entrenched in negativity and fear that the cold shoulder is expected while the warm invite is rare. I don't believe in a false 'fake it till you make it' joy, what I am aiming for is a pure understanding that life is a gift. If we believe this, if we believe that life is more than jobs and stuff and reaching the pinnacle of all humanity has to offer then contentment is our friend and joy comes along for the ride.

I'm pretty sure I know all 6 of you who read this blog (;) and so I'm pretty sure I know that you are much more versed at living in the arms of joy than I am, so I am very curious what your thoughts are on the subject.

Love the melon!!

Camp On!

We have entered the time of the journey when the newness of travel has worn out, and as we are not traveling, but rather resting, we are learning to live as campers. While last week was a little heavy with readjusting to this, this week has led us to some nice routines. The weekend was entered with openness and spontaneity. We hadn’t reserved a campground and were pleased about that fact when we learned it would rain all weekend in western Washington. So we headed east over the mountains hoping to find some sunshine. And we did. There was some rain one night, but beyond that we had escaped a weekend of forced indoor or in tent activity. We landed around a town called Cle Elum and instantly feel in love with the area. It is horse land where Washington is still western and not so much northwestern. Filled with a community pride that is made known through it’s well kept historical buildings the town is steeped in it’s roots. We had hoped to camp in a campground called Whish Poosh, who wouldn’t want to camp somewhere with a name like that? But it was full, as were all the other official campgrounds in that stretch of road, we settled on a officially unofficial campground. It was free, a much appreciated bonus, but boasted no facilities except the port a potties randomly stationed around the treed area. We weren’t quite prepared for this type of camping, we hadn’t packed in any water and didn’t have a table to set up on. So we took our trusty filter to the river and pumped clean water into our bottles and set the grill up on the nearest stump we could find to keep it out of the kids’ reach. The drive there was a welcome reminder of the natural beauty that Washington has to offer. I have rarely seen lakes so dense with color, greens and blues mixing together to produce a palette a painter would envy. Tall timbers line the road and the mountains swaying with the wind. And once one is beyond the suburbs of Seattle and Bellevue the mountains loom overhead and the drive through the canyon lends itself to imaginings of adventures to be found.

While the campground was lovely during the day, there was a nightlife that was unexpected. We had camped in an isolated spot, hoping to save the other campers from the noise our children make waking up at night and instead were glad we have the space between us to save us from the club like atmosphere that had been transported to the great outdoors. Thumping music, hooting youngsters, and who knows what else had interrupted our little quest for a silent night and left us wondering what we had stepped into. Two nights of this later a tired family made our way back to our campground north of the city, which suddenly felt luxurious with it’s 25 cent showers, water pumps, and quiet atmosphere. I have since been contemplating how quickly we as humans can adjust our standard of living to meet our lifestyle. We are beginning to look at apartments to rent and I’ve started to wonder if anything with a sink, a bathroom, and a dishwasher won’t feel like the Ritz. I can’t even picture us in that type of life right now, I’m so caught up in the present. I just finished a chapter about the present in Annie Dillard’s book. I so often wish away the present, looking for instead the next best thing. And so, to now be living so vividly in the present, in the laughter of my children, the warm sun on my face, and the crackle of the campfire, I feel blessed. To be aware of the now, and to soak it up, enjoying or lamenting the details of the day, is what this summer has been about. We can remember the past, but we cannot stay there and we can hope for the future but we cannot see it. The present we can be in, we can see it, it is tangible, it is now. In the present we are getting ready for bed, a loved and hated ritual that all people must go through. Tonight it is loved and laughter is ringing from the tent as my husband gets the kids in their pajamas, mosquitos are taking their last bites for the night, campfires crackle around the campground, and the sun is on it’s way down. It is the evening of another day. One more day less of living ourdoors, and one more day more of building our family and loving each other. The present is rich, feeding or draining our spirits, it is where we are, we cannot be anywhere else. I am glad I am here, I am grateful for my present. And as tired as I am these days, the present is all I can handle.

She’s One...August 5!

We celebrated our baby girl’s first birthday on the beach. The sun was low in the sky, the grill cooked some splurges of succulent steak, the air was fresh and our baby was one. It’s hard to believe a year has passed since she was born so incredibly last August. Delivered by her father, she has always been and still is a daddy’s girl. So we sat, ate, played and remembered her birth, her induction into our crazy family. I cannot picture life without her anymore. To commemorate the day I made a list of all the amazing things she can do at 1. Here it is:

She can…

Walk

Go up and down stairs

Sit and look through a book, alone

Climb into her stroller by herself

Try to count to 2, uhh, dooo

Say dada, mama, dah (dom), nana (for herself), hi, uh oh, no, flower, tickle

Sign for more, milk, and all done

Feed herself

Quickly empty any bag or bin of anything J, and sometimes even put it back in

Bounce

Wear pigtails

Where are we?

Some of you might be wondering where we now are and what we have been doing for the past week. Currently, I am standing in the kitchen of my husband's co-worker's home who has graciously let us stay here for a couple nights while her family went camping. It's close to Nate's work so he is getting home an hour or two earlier than when we were camping which has made our day as a mom and kids much shorter. It's nice. The home has a door, a faucet, a washer/dryer, and a bathroom...all in one place. The first time I turned on the faucet for a glass of water, yes a glass not a metal water bottle, I excitedly called my husband. It's not as though I don't know about faucets, or have been away from them for so long, but this felt like an immense blessing to suddenly find water so easily accessible and clean. This past spring we walked for a cause that I deeply believe in, clean water. We joined a non profit called Water 1st that digs wells in 3rd world countries and walked 5K carrying 5 gallons of water on our back. Nate and I switched off carrying the water, it was heavy and we both realized how much work and daily life is simply about surviving for many people around the globe. The past 2 weeks have simply taken that and solidified it in my mind. We only had about 50 yards to our water spigot, and I was blessed that my husband would fill our water container every morning so that we had water for a full day. Even so, it made an impression on us. We did not waste that water, that was one of our rules with the kids, no playing in the campsite water, it had to last all day for washing dishes, drinking, and cooking. Many times throughout the week my mind went out to the women and children who spend their time and energy transporting water every day so their families can survive. We take so much for granted.

The last week of camping brought a comfortable routine for me with the kids. We spent nearly every day at the campground play area. I love a good playground, it can occupy children of all ages, bring relief to a tired mom, and offer a place to talk to and meet other people. The playground is situated just 100 yards from the beachfront of Puget Sound, so we had our options of swinging or swimming. I have discovered many keys to camping with kids as we have extended this time in the woods that I can quickly share with you.

First, we soon realized within the first hours of staying at this particular campground that a campsite consisting mainly of dirt is more difficult than one of grass. A close, walkable place to change scenery and offer new activities for the kids is a wonderful amenity. It does not matter whether that is a playground, a beach, a great trail to take walks on, or even just a grassy field to play tag or frisbee together at, the day is much shorter when it can be broken up into new places and activities. For long term camping, more than a weekend, it is nice to have showers or a lake nearby to wash off the dirt. Kids get dirty. They play in it, sit in it, eat it, throw it and then they get it all over you. This is fine, and I think good for them, but for more than a week, or weekend for the type As out there, it can wear on a mom to have a film of grime covering her family. Along these lines, the great outdoors offers a unique opportunity for the city dwelling family and child to be free, so back off on the rules and enjoy freedom for yourself and child. Within the boundlessness of freedom safety rules still are necessary and best implemented at the beginning of the trip. A quick run through the campsite to be sure there isn't any broken glass or sharp objects left behind by the last campers is a good idea. We found that plastic or wooden toys are less likely to stay dirty than stuffed or cloth toys, this is common sense stuff, but the best toys are the pinecones, sticks, and trees that they can feel, pretend with, and climb. One other group of kids had brought a rope to make a rope swing with that was a big hit with our kids too.

We'll be back to the camping again next week, and spending time looking for apartments for the next year. Updates to come!

Blogging

Well, blogging is a hard thing to do when internet is scarce. So here I am sitting at a dear friend's home in Seattle where Wi-fi is in every home and she's graciously offered to let us invade their space so I can post all that I have been working on. So again, apologies for all the new posts. Read them all, read a few, read what interests you. Hoping to get back into the swing of things next week. Love to you all!

Sunset in Iowa, I have rarely seen more beautiful sunsets in any other place.

Peek A Boo occupied us for quite some time on the long drive home.

Day to Day

You may at this point think we could possibly have moved into another dimension of pink ponies, rainbows, and marshmallow clouds. Well, I will reveal the truth, a nomad summer does not imply a no(one gets)mad summer. We have had our share of heated discussions, time outs, and wondering what we are doing. Working back into the routine of day to day life this week, while living in a campground 40 miles from the job, has proven to be one of these difficult areas. Trying to reconcile the world of a camping trip, i.e. junk food and lazy days in the sun, with the working world my husband enters each day has led us to some honest discussions about expectations. Expectations are little unspoken thoughts that no one will say, but will always hold over another’s head. We live hoping that person will live up to them, find disappointment when they don’t, and begrudge them for not reading our mind. Communication is the kind cousin of expectation, for if a couple can communicate well, then those expectations will rarely roar their little heads. A couple who has challenges communicating, I will admit that is often us, will also frequently battle the dark cloud of unmet expectations. We are lucky in that while we don’t always live understanding this, we do see it and know it about ourselves.

So I find myself here at a campground all day with two little kids. Keeping us busy is the most important thing about the day. If we aren’t busy, then the little guy gets antsy and pretty soon the whole campground is listening to either him getting upset, or me trying to discipline. It’s like living life in a glass house. Typically, while camping we would let more slide, we’d put off dealing with certain behaviors until we were in the privacy of our own home. Having been away from home for 5 weeks already and looking into another 3 weeks out of a home, we can’t live that way, it would set us up for a downfall come September. So, it feels a little like airing your dirty laundry out in front of the world. We are not perfect parents, or a perfect couple in the sense that all is always peaceful and gentle and kind. We get angry, we have unmet expectations and we have no where to go with those except the picnic table where the rest of the campground can hear us discuss life if they so choose. It’s a little embarrassing since no one else is actively living this way, but it does make me wonder what communities used to be like before everyone had thick walls and lawns between their homes. I’m sure people argued, most likely more openly that we do now, and I’m sure there was a lot that was different than now. Familial roles were more defined and distractions like leisure time and computers didn’t exist. But I wonder what it was like to live in tents, in family compounds where everyone knew all about the relationships between everyone else, not because they were talked about later, but because they were lived out in front of each other. We try so hard to hide our flaws, our personality, physical, and family flaws and I think that this only puts more distance between others and ourselves. It breeds fear and loneliness, it raises expectations and limits communications. It makes one another unapproachable. Obviously we have to maintain some sense of social decorum or it might get a little nutso with everyone airing their feelings left and right, but I’m open to a little more crazy in this planet and a little less stiff upper lip. Let’s get to know each other, good and bad, let’s live real life next to each other, honestly and full of hope. This is where we learn grace, mercy, forgiveness, self control, and love. We cannot learn those things sheltered from imperfection or from expecting perfection. Learning them takes practice and practice takes complete commitment to imperfect people.

TV

TV in the woods. There’s just something wrong to me about pulling up your huge RV into a campground then proceeding to pull your television out of the rv to watch it yards from someone else’s space, without walls. Not to mention the myriad of other issues surrounding a family that will not unplug a screen for a short period of time during the most lovely of all times of the year. It’s sunny, it’s warm, there are no mosquitos, there is, though, a park and waterfront a short walk away. Every time this family is at the RV, though, that loud box is interfering with our noise space.

I am finding myself at a crossroads. If I am to love my neighbor, and for this week and thank goodness this week alone, these people are my neighbor, how do I do that? All day I thought about this, knowing that I wanted to learn to show love, but instead was feeling only judgmental. Well, luck has it that even though I am often verbally blunt, and so not wanting to say anything to them, I have a very diplomatic husband. So I recruited him last night to speak to them about it and surprise to me, they kindly turned down their tv. Maybe my loving them was simply keeping my mouth shut until someone else could handle it better. Maybe that’s a lesson we could all learn sometimes. Either way, tact is my goal and someday I may attain it.

Utah

Oh, Utah. Who knew? Maybe you did, but I did not. Prior to entering Utah, I expected a wasteland of desert, salty plains stretching for miles as we traveled over windswept mirages of water. Instead I was greeted by lushness. It was northern Utah, so I cannot speak for the southern part of the state which may very likely be closer to my expectations. Rolling mossy hills reminiscent of our earlier trip through Wyoming brought gladness to our hearts. As we drove closer to a campground we were hoping to stay at that night, we noticed that we were once again in a type of farmland/ranch area. What stood out to us was the cleanliness of the homes and surrounding outbuildings. It was like walking into a home where the kids had picked up their toys before going to bed, as opposed to what my home often looks like with stuff strewn all over the place. The lawns were trim and neat, the buildings well cared for, and there was not one old car sitting on a property….maybe they were just better at hiding the junk in the buildings. We were impressed and it led to an overall enjoyment of the surrounding countryside. The campsite was full and rain clouds were working their way closer, so we settled on a hotel in Park City for the night. Waking up to a wet morning let us know we had made a wise choice. Today we make the final push to Washington. It will be another very long day of driving and we are now confident the kids can handle it. As we wind down the time we have spent away we are beginning the stage of reflecting. What has this time given us, what did we hope for that did not happen, what went well and what could have gone better, and are we really any closer to knowing what is in store for us?

You may be wondering how my plans to eat gluten free for the summer went…I believe I would give myself a very large F if I were to give a grade. In fact, I think I ate more wheat and dairy than I typically do at home. There are numerous reasons and excuses for this, but it all boils down to availability and cost. It is much more cost effective to funnel all the gluten free foods to the one with the actual allergy. We’ll continue to work on that path this summer as we’ll be cooking for ourselves more now. I am certain a cleanse is in the near future, though.

Reunited

Friday night. 7:30pm. Southwest Airlines. Row 9. Seat B. My husband arrived. We’ve been apart for a couple weeks at a time before this, but never while I was traveling with 2 kids. The kids and I set out to the Denver International Airport to pick him up and give long overdue hugs. We were giddy. We had all missed him so much and 2 weeks was too long this time to be apart. Baby girl cried the whole way until I reached back with my hand and sang a little ditty about going to see daddy. I think she understood. Once we had picked him up he spent the drive back to Boulder turned around going between kids with his attention. They were in heaven. I was left so grateful for a family that loves each other this much, enough to miss one another, and enough to excitedly receive the one who has returned. I want to expand that idea of family to include all those I love and with my mind set toward Washington, I am getting excited to see familiar faces of friends I have missed along the way. This journey has been just what we needed, a step away to realign ourselves. And now we begin our step back. The timing is perfect, our souls and bodies are tired and ready to return, our minds and hearts have expanded and we just want to be around the people who have known us and cared for us so well over the past few years.

Boulder, CO

Two days later we arrived in Boulder, CO. Road weary and tired of the car we found a little park where we once again got rained on. As the evening cleared we headed to a lookout park and spent the evening watching the light bounce off the mountains. If Boise didn’t woo, and Wyoming did, Boulder swept me off my feet. A mix of all that I like about Seattle in a smaller package with the mountains closer and the sunshine shining it’s no wonder this is one of the most popular cities to live in. There was gluten-free food everywhere. We stopped at a pizza joint for supper called BJs where they made my little guy a delicious GF/DF pizza. It was the first time in his little life that we have been able to get him a pizza in a restraunt. Where our mantra is typically, ‘sorry honey’, it was a joy to be able to say ‘Yes!’ when he asked if he could have some pizza. The little things in life sometimes catch me and remind me of what he often misses out on because of his diet and how reasonable he is about accepting that fact of life. He doesn’t throw a fit if he can’t have a certain food, though he has started expressing disappointment, who wouldn’t, yet to go to a coffee shop and be able to get a treat or a something like pizza lights up his little face and my heart. Our psyches are so intertwined with food, it can make us feel accepted or dejected, it can give us energy and health or make us sick, it can bring comfort and enjoyment in life. All that from a bean or a grain or a form of milk, it makes me want to fill my life and home with foods that bring good things to my family.

Car Sleeping

Ever since our first road trip with our baby girl, 6 hours to Cor d’Lene when she was 6 weeks old, one of my favorite things that she does when she is trying to sleep in the car is that she loves for one of us to reach back and hold her hand. Almost instinctively she wants reassurance that we are indeed still here, that just b/c she cannot see us does not mean we have left her hurtling through space alone in this metal box. So we indulge her. We reach back and sit with our arm straining awkwardly against the seat until both she and our arm have fallen asleep. It’s peaceful and full of moments that will forever remain with me, moments of connection. I hope that she reaches for my hand for as long as I live, and I hope that no matter how uncomfortable it makes me, I see her reaching and indulge her. It reminds me of mercy, the mercy I seek from a God reaching down to me, seeing me in my longing and indulging my wandering soul with compassion.

We left West Liberty, my hometown, on Monday morning and headed west. Finally pointing in the direction of home we worked our way across the state of Iowa to arrive at my aunt’s farm in the western part of the state. It’s a family farm from her husband’s family and her son and grandsons still farm the land. Warm air smelling of hogs, fresh cut grass, and hard work mixed with the sunshine to greet us as we pulled up her drive. She has a lovely, well kept farm house and my cousin and his family live across the road in their own home to create a wonderful mixture of separate lives, combined with a life of togetherness. My cousin and his sons are your quintessential Iowa farm boys. Polite, intelligent, well raised boys, well now they are almost all men, that reach over 6 foot tall in height they come across as all American boys. The eldest plays football at Buena Vista University, a few miles from home. The second will be joining him there, but on the baseball team instead. The youngest is about to embark upon junior high. They played with the kids as I had played with them when they were the age of my kids. Our little guy had a wonderful time goofing off with them and was so sad to leave only a day later. We saw a large collection of stuffed, taxidermy style, animals that the eldest boy had helped bring to BVU’s biology department. They had been donated by a museum from some tiny Iowan town where the gentleman had received deceased animals from the Omaha Zoo and then preserved them. The collection encompassed African animals to North American animals all lining the halls of this small university. A giraffe skeleton and an elephant one caught our attention in the span of space they took up. I have been lucky enough to see many of the African animals when we went on safari in Tanzania in college, but most of the animals we will never get this close to and to stand next to one and imagine the immense size and potential power of it is amazing. I’m not sure the little kids really understood it, but I was thoroughly impressed.

We left the farm that afternoon after a few gator rides and some good catching up conversation. As we drove away our four year old expressed for the first time that he wanted a dog, just like theirs, I’m thinking with the right space and dog it might be just the thing a little boy needs. The visit, as it always is, was too short leaving me wishing I had more time to get to know this part of my family.

Homemade Goodness

We’re an ice cream family. Growing up we’d eat it every night, and if my husband would have his way we still would! But with the little guy’s dairy allergy we don’t have it around much and have begun to experiment with non-dairy ice cream. When we were married, almost 8 years ago, we were given a homemade ice cream maker which has since sat in my old bedroom at my parent’s house until this past week. I’m sure the person who gifted it to us never thought it would come in handy for us to learn to make all types of flavor combinations of non-diary ice cream.

We started simple with vanilla soy ice cream. And it was good, until we made the chocolate coconut ice cream with Ghiradelli cocoa and rich coconut milk. I think I’ve found my new vice. It was creamy, and chocolaty, and mm’ mm’ good. So the ice cream maker has made it’s way into the car for the trip back to Seattle. I have a list of flavors I want to try to recreate without the dairy: salted caramel, mint chocolate chip, strawberry, chocolate fudge, and some sort of granola-ish chunky ice cream. I’m open for other flavor ideas if you have one, and we might even make it and bring it over to share with you!

Some Photos...

Baby girl with her 98 year old grandma. It's always amazing to me to see the young with the old.

My son's impression of me.

The pool!

Trying to pull the hay bale and becoming his own spectacle at the fair.

Muscatine County Fair

Heat Index: 100+ Humidity: 85-90% Sweat Index: 100%

It was a day that began with a shower. A needless one, since as soon as we stepped out the door we were coated in sweat. We forged on through the swampy air, the dusty roads and arrived at the county fair. If you didn’t grow up in a farm county or town or family, you probably don’t quite understand the importance of the county fair. It’s where 4-H kids, yes I was one of those, brought projects they had worked on all year to be judged or animals they had raised to be looked over and appraised. There are rides to ride, greasy, wonderful food to eat, and attractions at the grandstand. A queen is named, dancers perform, and those who want can share their hidden talent for all to appreciate. And there’s the Zipper, a huge, delapidated amusement ride, was where we proved our fearlessness and compared how many times our ‘safe’ little cage flipped us head over heels. It is a spectacle. Growing up in the town where the county fair is held brought its own excitement. New people in town, a buzz surrounding the week, and it's all our little town can handle to try not to completely shut down and spend all our time and money at the fair.

So I took my children to the fair, a place flush with nostalgia. It was Kids’ Day which meant our 4 year old could get an armband and ride as many rides as he wanted for 5 hours, at a low cost of $15 this seemed like the best way to pass the afternoon. And it was worth every cent. He went on the cars, the dragon rollercoaster, the spinning strawberries, the flying elephants, the flying airplanes, and the ferris wheel...twice. We recruited Grandma and Grandpa and went on the rides again and again until at one point late in the afternoon I watched him going around and around on the car ride only to see him dozing off at the wheel. I knew we had hit our limit so I took my exhausted little boy and girl home with a glass of lemonade. We hit the pool, the plastic blowup one that is, in my parents yard to cool off and wash the sweat off once again before crashing in bed.

Thinking I had not suffered enough heat and humidity the day before, I decided it would be fun to go to the fair again the next day to see the animal barns. It felt cooler, really it did, until we got to the fairgrounds and suddenly the temparture rose ten degrees. That’s what happens when you live a long time in a place where there is no air conditioning. When you are in an hot place you forget that inside a house is cooler because of a/c, not because it is actually a cooler day outside. So, dressed in jeans, we trudged and sweated our way to the animal barns. Disappointed by the selection, we moved on to the next building with a fan, where we spent the remainder of the whole hour we were at the fair watching the little guy trying with all his might to pull a huge bale of hay up by a rope and pulley system. He pulled and pulled, then climbed up and hung on the rope with all his weight. Of course, we know it won’t budge, but he kept trying until he finally relented that he, in fact, could not lift it.

You’re probably wondering what our little girl did this whole time. Well, she sat in the stroller and sweated, a lot. She nursed, a lot, to make up for the sweat. And sometime in the middle of all this, she learned to walk. Yep, she has accomplished upright mobility, and she’s so proud of herself as are we.

Remembering

So, after a week of bumming around Iowa with us, my husband has returned to the Northwest to continue working. It's hard to believe that we are already to this point of our journey, it seemed so far off when we started out and here we are, almost August and soon we will all be back around Seattle settling into our little campsite.

I'm staying with my folks, but I'm suddenly in the role of the single mother, not a moment to rest with barely time to think. Baby girl noticed her dad's leaving and got extra clingy, and the little man expressed his sadness many times. So, today we went online and chatted via Skype, which is a video chat. The sweetest moment a parent can experience happened today as we opened the Skype and called Nate. Once his face popped up on the screen baby girl started hollering ‘dada!, dada!’ and clapping her hands. I’m not sure where she thought he had gone, but seeing him again brought forth a visceral reaction that I didn’t expect. She smiled and giggled and tried to touch his face on the screen. They have a beautiful father/daughter kinship that was made so evident today that it gave me goosebumps watching this all unfold. It’s hard as an adult to keep in mind the developing perspective of babies and toddlers. Our 4 year old kind of gets that his dad is gone, but we’ll see him in a couple weeks. So while he doesn’t really like this reality, he still knows that dad is alive somewhere. I’m not sure that our 1 year old understood that. She got to say good bye at the airport and watch him walk away, but based on her reaction today, she may have thought he had just disappeared. To my well aged mind, it’s old hat, people come and leave and some of them come back, nothing to be concerned about, but to a one year old it’s as if an integral piece of her life just fell off the face of the earth. But is does make me think that sometimes we do act like we are still in the stage of a one year old. We know people who have moved, or who we have moved from, still exist, and we appreciate their influence on our lives, but when they are gone we forget. We don’t forget how much we loved those people and what they meant to us, yet we do forget that they too are somewhere else, living life, and moving on, maybe even wondering what we’re up to.

This weekend we attended our old church on Sunday. Nate was the youth pastor there and I was the church secretary during our first year of marriage. It is the singular place that impacted the course of our life and faith journey. That’s not to say there hasn’t been other points of influence, but this is our home. This is where our old views were knocked down so we could see the towering heights behind the shrubs. From here we began our journey, the one we are on now, and it’s from here that we pursued certain courses of action and communities. So when we return, I am always teetering on the edge of complete joy, and total sadness. Joy that we are indeed home, in a place that revives our souls with fresh water and sadness that too easily we forget this place, and too quickly we are again dried out. There are some people in the world that I would like to miniturize, stick in my pocket and carry around with me everywhere so that I could pull them out in moments of doubt or despair to let them whisper words of life and hope into my being. So, instead, we renewed a vow to keep in touch better and use the good old telephone. And I want to remember. I want to grow out of my infant self, forgetful of others and mindful, much too mindful of self. So I wonder, do we make ourselves grow up, or does it just happen? Does it just happen during these moments of realization, times of widening perspective during which we lean across to other human beings and simply say I love you, you exist, you are more important than me? Or do we have to work at it, remind ourselves, continually remove ourselves from the center of our minds and little galaxies to shatter what comes between us?

To the county fair tomorrow, it should be interesting. Hot, dusty, and full of interesting people.

What??

Okay, so these just got my funny bone going. Enjoy!

Has anyone really done that??

I've read thousands of labels and have never seen this...and you know a label like this would only work in the north woods of Wisconsin. I guess if you have food allergies, you just don't touch it!

4 Generations

4 Generations. 4. It's amazing and we are grateful that our son will remember his great grandparents full of life, laughter, and love. 6 of his 8 great grandparents are still living and thriving in their own ways. Ranging in age from 80 to 98 1/2 years old they have all offered him a large dose of love and another dose of good old common sense. They come from what is known as the Greatest Generation. They watched this world move from telegraphs, to telephones, to cell phones, from the Pony Express to the Internet. They brought innovation and infrastructure to our country and they raised a generation that carried on that momentum to bring about some of the greatest inventions of our time. We are thankful to still know a few and always enjoy being with them and learning from them.

Old Friends

Do you remember that childhood song that goes, ‘make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold’. Well Wednesday we got to shine up a golden friendship with a roommate from college. She’s one of those people that it doesn’t seem to matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen each other, or even spoken to each other, you can just pick up where you left off. We spent the morning with her in deep conversation bouncing from lighthearted ‘what’s new with you’ and delving into deeper issues. She showed us her new home, she’s a newlywed, and shared all their dreams for the place. And then we went to park to play, where I sure you can guess it., it rained on us. Sheets of rain, we tried to hide in the play structure only to be dripped on, so we finally embraced it and just got wet. The kids had a ball and we left reminded of how important that friend is to us, someone who knows our past and hopes for our future as we do hers.

So dear friend, I’m pretty sure you’re reading this, thank you for a beautiful morning. Thank you for remembering with us, knowing who we are, getting to know who we have become, and dreaming the future out loud beside us. You truly blessed our hearts and it was hard to drive away.

Iowa

We entered Iowa being chased by another thunderstorm a week ago. We had just stopped at a place to eat on the way from Wisconsin, sat down and Nate happened upon a tick in baby girl’s hair. So we hurried over to the convenience store side of the gas station/eatery, a very classy place, and bought some Vaseline to smother the tick out. As we went about this, I realized that everyone in the eatery was watching us intently, so I announced that we were just getting a tick out and that it was going fine. Expecting icy stares followed by silence in the typical Seattle manner, I was pleasantly surprised when the other parties expressed concern and relief along with their personal stories of ticks. That’s when I knew Iowa was just over the border. We ran out of the store in the pouring rain, hoping to drive out of it as we were to spend the next couple nights camping in my grandmother’s backyard. And luckily we did. She has an indoor cat, so as soon as we got there our little guy’s face puffed up and stayed that way for both the days. Needless to say, sleeping inside the house was not an option. So we camped in the muggy heat of the Midwest, where it often threatens to rain, but just falls short leaving one to suffer in the 90% humidity.

Iowa is amazing in many ways, though, and many of those ways are hidden to outsiders. As we crossed the border both Nate and I mentioned to each other how it suddenly looked so Iowan. If you don’t know what that means, it looks something like this…tiny, rolling hills coated in corn growing up to the sky, tassles swaying in the wind, clouds dotting the sky, the huge wide open blue sky, popping up amidst the cornfields are little thickets of trees where inside resides a farmhouse of some sort, grain bins, hog barns, and tractors all sit on the horizon. It’s a simple, earthy place and that feeling permeates the atmosphere.

We spent Monday and Tuesday with my grandmother, sleeping in the tent at night and finding things to occupy ourselves with during the day. She lives in a small town, maybe 200-300 people, most of them retired, where our most noted observation was that good coffee was hard to come by. Her home is usually one of my favorite places. She is a pack rat and so amongst all the seemingly useless items she has kept, there are some gems that can be admired. I always enjoy hearing the stories behind those gems. But we soon realized that being cooped up in a house with 2 young children, my grandmother and my uncle was not ideal. So we went to the farm. It was my great-grandmother’s farm, and then my grandmother and grandfather took it over, and now my other uncle is working the farm. He showed us around, and we felt a bit like farm tourists, shooting photos of the 1941 tractor that my grandpa had bought, which they still use, taking rides on the tractors, and oohhing and ahhing over the cows, sheep, and laying hens. It’s a pretty cool place to be. He talked to us about the hard reality of working a small family farm, trying to make a living by raising a small contingency of antibiotic/steroid free animals to sell at market and then there’s the second job he has as a tree trimmer. It’s not glamorous, but I admired him for his dedication to working the farm in a certain manner. We met my cousin’s baby twins, they are 1-2 month old little bundles of sleepiness. I have never seen two more kick back babies, picked up and put down several times, they slept through most of the afternoon.

The next evening was the county fair parade. Our kids first time gathering the candy thrown from the floats. Since we don’t allow much candy in our house it was so much fun to see their excitement over the little treats they were plucking from the street. Amazingly, they followed the rules about the candy and we haven’t heard a peep about wanting more since.

Mosquitos

I think I could live a very nice life without these pesky little critters. I’ve waged war on them all summer and only have bug bites to show for it. As do both my children. We tried natural bug spray, we reluctantly tried deet bug spray and to no avail, we still get bitten. And then there’s the itching. I can hold back, the baby doesn’t seem to want to itch, but our little man itches until he bleeds. So we began another round of trials, Caladryl, white vinegar, a Benadryl stick, and some Dermacort, all this just because of a tiny little flying insect. They have kept us indoors on days they swarm so thick the minute you step out you feel like a landing strip at a busy airport.

It makes me feel guilty to be sitting indoors on a sunny day afraid of a tiny little bug. I find myself hollering at my son to either be in the lake or in the house, but not running around on the grass in case he gets another bug bite to add to his collection! So mosquitos, look out, we’re coming to Iowa and if you are near me, you can be sure your life will be short.

If anyone has any tips, we'd love to hear them!

Loon Lake

My husband grew up going to a family cabin in northern Wisconsin. So, we returned to Wisconsin to spend time at this place that is so dear to his heart. It is where so many memories were made for him. Fishing, frog catching, hunting, playing cards, boating, swimming all filled his days. Not growing up with such a place I have only a small understanding of how this formed him, and a large sense of jealousy. So I am always eager to join him here learning more about him and his family. It has been 7 years since we have stepped foot here. Years of talking about returning, about how great it would be to get back to the cabin, how we’d like to share this place with the kids. And we are finally here. It looks the same. New paint, but that’s about it. Even the fixings for s’mores are still in the same place. It’s so refreshing to be in a place where things have stayed the same. We join his grandparents and his brother and sister in law. Later this week, his sister and dad will also come up. Selfishly, we had hoped for some time here to ourselves, but are so glad now that it won’t be that way. This time spent with these people is precious.

Our 4 year old is getting quite used to being in his swimsuit, so he jumped right into it and hasn’t taken it off yet. The men have spent the afternoon fishing, it’s not great fishing, but it’s more about time spent together on the dock with reel in hand, talking, waiting, and taking in the place. It is a peaceful lake, small in size and no motors are allowed so the peace is maintained. After dinner, and once the kids were asleep, we headed out on the canoe for some fishing and evening air. A clear sky and calm water greeted us as we paddled across the lake looking for a fish to take our bait. It was a slow night of fishing, but a full evening of renewal. Paddling the canoe was like dipping the oars into liquid glass, so, not wanting to disturb it too much we slowly made our way. Loon Lake is the name of the lake we are on, and loons are what we saw. They are regal birds, pointy bills, dark heads and polka dot feathers, they glided toward us to see who was joining them this night. As we watched them, the sun set over the trees lighting up the clouds pink and orange and reflecting the light off the mirror pond. I wondered at how jittery I had felt to this point, and tried to let that all drip away into the water letting it be soaked up and left behind. I have never felt so much like a city girl. Used to the quickness of not only the tasks of life, but also the way we speak and interact, I found myself feeling loud and brash even in my silence. And in this I felt incomplete, halfway there to wholeness, lacking in something very important. There is a book out about children and nature, about the nature deficit in children and the resulting attention issues, the calmness they lack. While we focus on that in children, we forget that we as adults are also affected. We can miss a piece of life, the calm piece, if we are never outside. Filing our lives and beings with a go, go, go attitude, errands to run, and things to do, we can quite easily lose our sense of calm. So, last night we soaked it up, we tried to soak it up. To bring into our souls the peace, the wholeness offered simply by sitting in a canoe on a quiet lake with birds singing, frogs croaking, and trees standing.

More days of this to come, so if you don’t hear from me, I’m here, just being. And I hope you have a place to just be for a bit too.

Wisowa - Sunday to Tuesday (last week)

A combination of two places into one family, Wisowa was born of a marriage between a Wisconsinite and an Iowan. No, it’s not referring to my husband and I, rather the grandparents of my mother-in-law’s husband. A wonderful grouping of cabins, playhouses, and even a schoolhouse it’s set up for family fun and relaxation. Unfortunately for us, it rained the whole time we were there. When it wasn’t raining, just wanting to rain, we set out on the paddle boat, caught frogs, and swam at the beach. It’s always amazing to me, when given the right imagination and funds what a person can create. It’s got me thinking about what I would create in a place like that, what buildings, spaces, and potential would be possible. We’ve been having fun dreaming about the future, no real answers yet, but dreaming is sometimes the best part of the process.

One of the most enjoyable times for me was the sauna. We tried it only one afternoon, it was raining out and my mother-in-law offered to watch both kids while we sat in the sauna. So we went in with her husband to rejuvenate. I had experienced a sauna prior to this, but not a sauna followed by a dip in a lake. The lake is tinted brown from the color of the trees surrounding it, and after 15 minutes in a 150 degree sauna we ran out in the rain to dip ourselves in what seemed to me like maple syrup. Then we ran back to the sauna to do the cycle over again. Rejuvenated we returned to find the kids content. Baby girl asleep on grandma’s lap, a rare sight as she is showing quite a bit of separation anxiety lately.

We passed the rest of the days running to and fro in the rain, trying to stay dry and still have fun without feeling too cooped up. Rain in the Midwest summer is different than that in the Northwest. It’s a warm rain, one you can play in without shivering. It falls hard and fast, but not torrentially. When my husband and I were dating we would run out and play in rains like this, a time to flirt a little, laugh, and be silly together. The rain we’ve been in reminds me of this past of ours, a past of much laughter. So I wasn’t surprised to find him one day pushing our son on the tree swing, both of them in swimsuits making the best of a rainy day. That’s one small thing I am inspired in by him, he is outside in the rain, outside with the mosquitos, outside just to be outside whenever he can be despite what nature throws at him. He’s a resilient man and is teaching that to our children. And I love that.

Well, Wisowa, we thank you for your hospitality! We hope we get to see you on a sunnier note someday and we look forward to the next time we will see Grandma and Tom.

Family

Here we are amongst family. It is different each time we come back. We always enjoy seeing everyone, filling in each other’s lives since we last saw or spoke to them. Sometimes, though, I find myself striving, most likely needlessly, to maintain the person I have become. I can be fiercely independent at times, and often push against being boxed in, so when I am back to a place that is where I was so young I instinctively want to press back against who I used to be. It creeps up on me trying to take away the energy I’ve found, trying to sap me of the adult I’ve become and turn me into a child again. Maybe some of you can understand. Sometimes we run away from those places to find ourselves, to see what we’re made of. It’s not an uncommon human response to life, found in even in ancient civilizations. Going on walkabouts, or tests to enter into being a warrior for the tribe infiltrated each society. I think in our modern society we all in some way seek that challenge and when met we want to be welcomed back as a contributing part of the clan. If the clan still acknowledges you as a child, it can be heartbreaking, but when they see you, all you can do and have become, and in turn acknowledge your independence within the whole, then life can continue on in a healthy fashion. From early on, we mold our children, we take them and teach them how to behave, and what priorities make life worthwhile. But someday, we let them go, into the world and can only hope that when they come back to us they carry a bit of us along, adding, growing, and multiplying themselves as persons able to care for themselves, their family, and their community. I like to believe that my husband and I have done this, and so when we return to find family that treats us as we have in fact accomplished this, we are content.