adventures together

by the time april comes, my heart can hardly be contained for all the longing and excitement it waits for.  june holds the promise of time together, time as a family exploring, serving, participating, and adventuring together.  it mourns the loss of students and the change of pace, but it rejoices with the thoughts of building into each other.  and now, with the volkswagon van sold, the transportation takes place with the cruiser and trailer, so, packed and ready to go, we deviated from our normal course down the oregon coast and instead set out for vancouver island.

june 7, 2013 a travel day.

our first destination was grandmas, to play, to pack, to sell, and to move.  we backed the trailer into the yard and made it home for the week.  the first item to accomplish was a garage sale and from there we continued to help grandma move while also exploring at the park and beach, catherdral groove, and coombs.  our nights included a marshmallow roast, livingroom chats while sitting on the floor and reading grandma attic to the girls in bed.  there were sunny days spent sprinkler jumping and rainning ones spent hiking trails and looking for crabs.  i asked the girls if they would tell their kids one day about how their mom made them walk on trails in the pouring rain while they were hungry and cold, it may have done my heart good to hear them giggle of such things.  we got our summer feet back, dirty and calloused, and we cried when grandma left.

marshmallow roast with grandma in the backyard.

 morning beach walks in the rain

a day at the park and the beach with nana, who came to play with us.

 cathedral groove in the pouring rain.  it was so quite and peaceful.  we were wet and muddy by the time we finished exploring, also maybe cold and hungry.

when it was sunny we still made choices to get wet.

we moved grandma and then played at the beach one last time.

a picinic and a barbie kite, some buckets and shovels, tubes and bathing suites, we could have taken on the world...at least until the little one got cold. 

and so this is the start of our summertime adventures and first week of holidays in june.

dancing

i don't fit well in the world of dance moms.  i didn't grow up dancing and i have no idea of what to expect from our children.  i watch intensely and have become friends with one mom who does know, and who herself is a dance teacher.  she watches and sometimes writes notes on observation day.  she is backstage during the show for both afternoon and evening performances.  she has asked her children to be dedicated to this sport, competing and practising multiple times a week.  i kinda like her and as much as she asks a lot of her girls, she hears them when they say they would like to stop.  she has taught me to participate, to not be afraid to ask the question i have no idea the answer to, and to push a little harder when desire is shown.

i didn't ever imagine dance for our girls, but i did imagine them building into each other, supporting and encouraging each other.  my heart gets a little overwhelmed when i watch them.  and maybe i cry a little too.  you pour into your kids, whether dance or soccer or art or music or games, we pour into them.  we drive them, we make sure their uniforms fit, that they are well fed, we ask them all the questions we can think of to get some sort of idea of how they are doing in it.  we ask them to practice, we ask them to preform.  we teach them and squeeze them when they think maybe they haven't done such a great job...cause to us, they couldn't have done any better.

and so i cry sometimes when the curtain pulls back and the song starts that they have been practising to since christmas.  my heart stops for a second and then swells as they take their first steps onto that stage.  and from where i sit, they have already completed more than i could have asked.  they have accomplished goals, they have supported each other from the wings, and made sure they are okay as they wait in the green room.  that is my heart.  not the dance but the love they share with each other in the process.

  

easter moments

for the first time we made our way south to birch bay for the easter weekend.  us in our little trailer, heater in tow, we packed our buckets and bubbles and ventured out.  one of the things i treasure most is time.  time with my family.  time to build into one another.  time to share memories and moments.  time to just sit together and play.  it's like showers of Jesus on my soul.

[evening at the beach, treasures found, moments together while the sun sets and crazy flying man]

 [photos by sophie werdal]

[day two: bubbles, log walking, competitions between sophie and penny and then scott and i, picnics, and beach walks]

moments together, this is what feeds my heart.  seeing them explore together, run and chit chat while holding hands.  sitting with scott or searching for "the best shell" while the girls judge.  fires at night with marshmallows from the corner store that cost more than they should, but what else are you to do when your youngest has whispered in your ear every night after prayers "can we always go camping, always with marshmallows?" and you have responded every night with "yes, of course, i love you."...you buy the marshmallows and joyfully give thanks for the family that you have.  blessed.  i am blessed.

choices

these past few months have been full, full of emotion and beauty, full of big questions and helpless answers.  there have been struggles and blessings, tears of sorrow and tears of joy.  there has been loss and there has been gain.  there has been a strengthening of community and a deeper trust in the words of the Lord.  my words here have been few lately, but my heart has been full and i feel now able to share the importance of it all, not the details of it all, but the strength that i cling to.

there is a story that is not mine to share, but the way in which it was dealt with is one that i desire to communicate because it is one that i hope to imitate.  
a friend oh so close to my heart lost her two boys, a few months ago.  the phone rang on a friday night and tears streamed down my cheeks as a sweet voice explained how her boys were with our Savior.  her words were few, and i had none to offer in return.  she held them tight through the night and loved those boys as she does her other children, with deep affection that only comes from the Father.  i had no idea what to offer her, but soon learned it was not about me or the things i was or was not able to offer.  there was a sense of helplessness, a feeling of incapability, i wanted to desperately show her my love, her family that my heart broke for them...without knowing how.  and when i did see her, her words and actions showed me grace, she offered me grace for not knowing, grace in spite of my lack of effort because she trusted more than i did.  she trust the Lord.  her eyes hurt but they also shone with the strength of Jesus.  she wrapped her arms around me and i felt like i melted inside them.  and she was the one who had lost.  she offered me more than maybe she even knows.  she spoke and still speaks of the pain and sorrow she experienced, but never without the mention of the name of the Lord.  never without the understanding that she is choosing to experience joy in every moment of the day, through every moment and breath she is presented with.  joy.  and she spurs me on toward love and good deeds as she holds unswervingly to the hope she professes (hebrews 10:23-24).  joy.  we have a choice.  we always have a choice.  and she chose joy.  she chose to trust in a God who walks close to her side.  she chose to offer grace to a friend who was helpless when she was in need.  her character is rooted in the Lord.  
a few weeks ago her son asked, "mom, did you see Jesus when He came to get the boys?"  and i want to answer him, oh sweet boy, of course she did.  i bet she told Him about the stethoscope she was about to steal and He would have smiled and then thanked her and your daddy for showing those who helped them in the hospital that there was a God, that there was a power greater than any other, a God who is worthy of being trusted, who will give you the strength and hope and joy to endure such pain.  

this is the kind of woman i desire to be.  
i desire to choose joy.

and then there is a story of a boy who traveled to a far away place.  again a story that is not mine for i did not experience it, but my heart was touched and changed by it all the same.  he left with a blessing from my heart and i waited eagerly to hear from him as he would have his inner most being changed and stretched from the sights and sounds of the world around him as he found himself in haiti.  the tears would stream down my cheeks as i read his thoughts, his struggles, the questions he didn't understand.  the whys that seemed would not ever have an answer.  the little ones who seemed would never know life beyond a certain age.  he would write of the people he met and the children he held, of their struggles and seemingly hopelessness.  he questioned life, its purpose and its place, his purpose and his place.  he cried without ceasing.  he found a little girl named sophie and it was his undoing.         

"...little Sophie was calm and observant.  She really didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to.  She had already impacted me so greatly, not only by the songs and prayer offered to us buy her and her friends, but also by the simple fact that she shared a name and was at a similar age of my own little girl whom I love and cherish so very deeply.  I gazed deep into Sophie’s big brown eyes and was overcome with questions.  Why was this her lot in life?  Born into a life of struggle with a disease she did not deserve or choose, a disease which left her without Mother or Father, and one which is treated but still ravaging her little body.  I personally have never met anyone with Aids, but once I met her I had a tough time letting her go."

it was my undoing.  how was i to love this man so far away, so full of questions and heartache, so full of the love of Jesus.  i reminded him that the only thing that the Lord has asked of us is to love.  we have not been asked to fix everything, or anything, only to love and to love well.  and he does.  he always has.  he loves with the strength of Jesus, with the hope we find in Him.  and i am blessed beyond measure to walk life with him.  and he has changed.  he is a new man, one of tears and new eyes.  he loves a little deeper.  he sees joy in the places others dismiss.  he holds onto joy, the joy of the Lord.  it is the only thing he can do.

and so there is a choice.  a choice in how we will deal with the impact of events on our lives.  a choice of who we will turn to every moment of the day.  a choice of what we find.  

joy.  

there are heartaches.  there are moments that overwhelm, moments that take our breath away, moments that seem to be our undoings.  and we have a choice.  my heart will never be the same.  we grow, we learn, we are stretched and challenged, we lean on others and cling to the Lord.  we trust in His name and give thanks for the community that rises up around us.  and we make a choice.  i have seen others make a choice for joy and i admire that for in it i see Jesus.

blessed

my heart, it has been full, overwhelmed and holding tightly to the truths of the Lord.  and then we are given another day, another breath, another hour, and we are reminded that we are blessed.  more than blessed.

i have not yet written to sophie and shared my heart from this past year with her, and she is six, and i don't want to.  i don't want her to be six and yet i love her in this age, in this stage and ability.  i don't want her to grow taller and yet she outgrows another pair of tights within a few months and her dad stays awake with her and rubs her feet and legs as they ache and grow.  i don't want her to continue to get older, and yet she speaks of the future with great hope, of wanting to be a mom, of wanting to love others in a way that makes my eyes fill with tears.  and i am blessed.  i am blessed to have a daughter so lovely and full of spirit.  a daughter so passionate and protective, that at the age of six her heart is full of what it means to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.

and as much as she is passionate, she is feisty and lacks every ability that one would ever possess to sit still.  she lives for our days outside, for exploring with her magnifying glass, for rain and the dead worms that it brings, for dirt piles and the nests they are waiting to become.  she walks hand in hand with her sister, sometimes shoving and sometimes looking out for her, but always together.  she bikes around this campus like a champion and practices rolling up onto and off the curbs, longing to be able to jump it off the stairs, getting frustrated that that means practicing.  she skateboards in the hallway and down the hills, hands at tip and tail with a smile on her face that would rival any other.  she would spend hours out there if it meant she could just move all day long.

we love this kid.  she teaches us a new and fresh perspective on the world, on others, on what it means to love.  i want so desperately to keep her innocent, safe, but those are not the right words.  to keep her, just to keep her.  we pray for her heart, that it would always beat with this passion that we see, that it would love deeply and protect fiercely, that it would hold onto Jesus and the truth that He is God.  

sweet soph, we love you.  we are blessed by you.  we give thanks every day that you were given to us to be apart of our family.