Cleansing

As I look through this blog, I can't believe it's been almost 11 months since my last post.  It's not that I haven't been writing, it's that I haven't been sharing it.  Seeing where I was mentally a year ago, I feel like I have just walked out of a cave and into the bright sunlight.  A little disorientation followed by an overwhelming sense of reckless abandon to leave the safety of the cave I have dwelled in the past year I feel the winds of change coming our way again.  I cannot live without it.  I am not stagnant, I thrive on being a nomad in life.  As this becomes more apparent, I finally see why all my attempts to become something, to be someone, have faltered.  Never wanting to be boxed in, but always seeking to find a box to climb in myself I have walked down so many roads to figure out who I am supposed to be.

I did a liver cleanse a month ago, to shed some toxins and find some physical revival.  And I did.  I finally saw the release of not only 10lbs of baby weight that all my attempts had done nothing for, but also the release of anxiety, and a clearing of my mind.  I found it a little hard to believe.  The amount of energy I suddenly had, while eating only vegetables and fruit, was astounding.  And my whole being thanked me.  It reminded me of what fasting in various spiritual traditions aims to accomplish.  I have avoided fasting in the past since most of the time I understood my motive was more physical than spiritual, and so not being able to reconcile that I simply didn't do it.  But entering it as a cleanse, as a purely physical attempt to manage some symptoms I didn't expect to then find a mental, emotional, and spiritual renewal.   And in moving on past the symptoms, I began to see life a little more clearly.  For the first time in my 31 years here I understood I did not have to choose a path to walk forever.  I did not have to be this or that and commit myself to one vocation.  In fact, I could do all the things I have ever wanted to do all in one lifetime.  I know, I'm a late bloomer when it comes to seeing something like this, but as they say, better late than never.  So, now, going back to all those paths, all those boxes, I find freedom where I had found anxiety.  I can be a photographer, a writer, a nutritionist, a health professional, I can follow these paths simultaneously and embody the whole of me.

You might be thinking, 'What? Since when did you want to be a health professional?'.  Well, since a month ago.  Actually, since I was a teenager, but it's been a long, convoluted road to get to the point of accepting that.   And I still feel uncertain.  I'll try to share my story in a quick sort of way.  My son was born into trauma, into a life that has been marked by health issues.  It has been a never ending battle for me to keep it together for him, but I have been blessed in many ways in this situation.  One, that it is not as bad as it could be, as we were warned it would be, and two that I have walked this journey flanked by numerous health professionals (physical therapists, doctors, naturopaths, nutritionists, and physcologists) who have been my guiding angels.  They have brought me perspective, healing treatments, even diagnoses that have led to more healing.  They have walked through the darkness with me.  And this is one cave I stand on the other side of, I find my son to be healthy.  Sure, he gets sick in the winter and to keep him healthy we live in a strange world of gluten/dairy/sugar free-ness.  So after seeing this, after walking so long with these type of people, I realize I want to be one of them.  I'm not scared of this darkness anymore, I have walked it and have jumped into a completely different way of living than I thought possible and it is good.

It is good not just for my son, it is good for all of us.  We eat less processed food, we cook our own food with little sugar and salt and much flavor.  I now find that when I eat too much of those foods my circulation decreases, my hands get numb and swollen and suddenly that energy I worked so hard to rediscover disappears.  As we see more and more gluten free options pop up in grocery stores and resturants we know we are not alone in this, there is a growing understanding that much of what we put in our mouths and pass off as food, is not so.  And so, I have seen not only physical health with eating food packed with nutrients, I have seen emotional health and mental health improve also for both my son and myself.  It is astounding and if my story can bring that to anyone else then I am glad I have lived it out as faithfully as possible.

This past year has been one of releasing, of growing, and of cleansing.  This next year will be one of learning, of more growing, and hopefully a continued sense of walking in the light....I'll let you know how it goes.

Shaping Contours

It's so easy to get distracted, swept away with every little whim, mine or that of my two little followers, that I forget that I am shaping a world. Every day my hands, heart, and mind work hard to shape a world that will speak life into the hands, hearts, and minds of my children. Some days it falls into place like a dream, other days we batter against each other like the tide coming into shore. It's natural to emotionally smash up against anyone we surround ourselves with on a 24/7 basis, if we didn't test and retest each other's boundaries and capacities for love, forgiveness, mercy, and grace then we would be lacking in truly knowing each other, but there are days we need rest from this to regather, refocus, and re-energize.

So days like today, a day of swinging in the snow where we were alone at the playground, the only ones to venture out of the house while the mini snowballs rained down from the sky, are days of peace. The snow didn't stick to the ground or pile up to reach back into the clouds, but it reminded me of landscapes where it does just that. Places where the contours of the land are filled in, made shapeless and smooth with a creamy covering. That's what makes snowfall so quiet and peaceful, it's as if the world knows that for the time being the ups and downs will all even out.

My soul responded to today's snow much like the rest of creation, the things that cause the mountains and valleys in my life and in my relationships evened out, covered up with the joy of a changing landscape. I know there are some people who don't like change, who shrink back the minute life throws an unexpected turn, but I am not one of them. Instead, I wrap my kids up in their warmest gear and go to the park to swing toward the change. What that brought to us was a day where I could stop shaping my world, stop adding new contours to our family and let the world shape us and lend us some of it's wisdom of rest and acceptance of what life has to offer. Undistracted and newly formed, it was a lovely day.

New Year..New You?

You may be wondering what we have been up to since the beginning of December. While life has felt hectic, it's been amazing to be the adults of the family, getting to create the mood for the holidays and focusing our attention on what we feel is important while also bringing a season of joy to our home. Anticipation was ripe and we celebrated fully.

New Year's eve was spent clamming on the Pacific Ocean. For those of you who are not familiar with hunting clams, it goes something like this. On a day when the tide is being sucked out to sea, leaving stretches of unseen and untouched sand we all head out to the ocean to dig in that sand for clams. Around 200 people joined us on a frigid day, all with their respective gear, warm hats, boots, nets, and clam guns. A clam gun uses suction to bring up a block of sand. We then dig for the clam in the sand and sometimes chase them down the hole we have created (see the photo!). It can be rather exhilirating and addictive, sort of like the 'bonk the mole' game at Chuck E Cheese.

Our time was short and being such a cold day, we were disappointed when our son was knocked over by an unexpected wave and drenched to the core. The only part of this we had anticipated was being prepared enough to have several changes of clothing. Unfortunately this did not suffice enough to make him feel safe again and he spent the time running from each wave that approached his 4 foot radius. Our little girl went from the hiking pack, where she was being buffeted by the wind into the stroller so I could park her back to the cold breeze. I had taken my camera and had relished photographing the clammers on the beach, each with their own technique to gather as many clams as they could as quickly as possible. The air was crisp, the sky provided an amazing backdrop as the sun sunk beyond the horizon, and despite the chill I was glad this would be my last adventure of 2010.

A new year to many means trying to find a better you. Resolutions are set and hopes are pinned on evolving into a stronger, smarter, more well off individual. I don't know how many blogs I have come across putting forth new goals, more organization. Ours is a culture of bigger and better unfulfillable notions. Of course, as Americans, we strive and try to reach that goal that so few reach. As we celebrated the new year simply clamming, grabbing some fish and chips to eat in the car on the long drive home, I found myself looking forward, wanting to push myself into setting goals, looking for a purpose to drive me through the next year. Lose the last of the baby weight, get to running every day, have activities ready for the kids, find your vocation, make something of yourself, it all pounds down day after day and I am to the point in life where I am finally questioning this. I think I always have, but have also always stepped back into the expectations set out and not had the courage or words to name it.

So I find myself wishing for a different path, one that walks past the striving, bypasses the duty and walks into peace. Peace is the only English word I can come up with that speaks to what I am seeking. It may take more words than that. Words such as contentment, but more than that, fullness, living rich, depth, it's more of a picture I carry in my mind that encompasses words, emotions, environment, attitude that is beyond what I can explain. So this year for me is less about working toward a new, better me, and more about defining this image I have carried for so long. Becoming me, not more than me, not less, but truly who I am and creating a life that reflects that. I feel the truth of this when I find myself on a windswept cliff or beach, the breeze brushing off any remnants doubting myself and bringing in a freshness that fills my being. And so, 2010, you were cruel to many, we had our own difficulties this year too. I am glad to move on, but hope not to lose sight of what I have learned this past year as the journey continues and always will each step defining and redefining us.

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.