A Story and a Dream

The story goes....

One summer we felt the need to forgo traditional church and spend Sunday mornings with the kids in the woods. We'd pack a lunch, hike a trail, park our bottoms on some rock outcropping or next to a waterfall and do a devotion and pray. It was 2011 and our kids were 4, 5, 9 and 11. By the end of that summer two things were clear: our family needed more time together and we all absolutely loved the Columbia Gorge wilderness.

So we started dreaming. Like most dreams ours started with a "what if". What if we could find a house in the woods somewhere were we could vacation? What if we could find something small and low maintance with a creek and a mountain view? What if....?

So we looked and we found something that changed our lives....

I loved the cottage and the view and the creek....but it came with something I didn't anticipate but something I loved more than the other three put together.

An orchard...

I had never been in an orchard before and there was something so symbolic and beautiful and mysterious about it that I fell hard. I can't count the amount of times I've walked those rows praying my children and friends through mission trips and heartache, knowing that my prayers would bear fruit, heavy boughs of ripe God goodness.

Avonlea was 11 when we bought the cottage. She had never been in the woods for a prolonged period before, the cottage changed her life. During the last 7 years she has become an avid birder, animal tracker, mushroom hunter, and outdoor enthusiast. It's not unusual to wake up at the cottage and find her bed empty. She gets up early and stays outside in her camo with binoculars around her neck for hours. The peace and beauty of nature has become part of who she is.

Grant and Rowan slept in a tiny room together at the cottage. They stayed up late scratching backs and telling stories. The spent the days exploring with BB guns, machetes, and knives. They tried every kind of weapon they could get their grubby mitts on and they grew together tied by the bonds of a million adventures. They built forts and went sledding. The adventure and wonder of nature became part of who they are.

Rose was four when we bought the cottage. We would race down the long avenues of pear trees. She played Barbies in her room while the older kids were skiing. She'd come downstairs and ask me to make cookies and tea with her and I delighted in our quiet time together. She grew bolder as she grew older and learned to cross country ski, snow shoe, and sled (which one fateful Thanksgiving landed her in the emergency room). She grew up outside under the trees, under the stars. The joy and excitement of nature became part of who she is.

And so the story goes...

Avonlea's adventurous heart led her to New Zealand where she is thriving in Bible school and learning to unicycle. Every time she face times us she is outside with the blue sky over her head.

Grant starts community college this fall, on top of a part-time job, where his love of exploration will land him (in two years) with a high school diploma, AA degree, and his limited electrician's licence.
Rowan starts 8th grade next week. The curiosity and perseverance he learned in nature inspired him to write a documentary about iPhone usage and kids ("they need to get out and explore!"). He's interviewed professional doctors, psychiatrists, and brain experts. He will take bee keeping classes and raise a pig for the fair.

Rose starts ballet four days a week this September. Her love of the outdoors keeps her in the woods at our house when she's not dancing. The joy of nature has led her to love animals and she is currently saving up for a milk cow.

This weekend we said good bye to the cottage. We signed the papers, washed the floors, had a garage sale and drove away. Another family is coming there to grow and farm and fall in love with the woods. And we are glad. Mostly.

I stood in the orchard with Rowan on one side of me and Rose on the other. I told them this is my favorite view in the whole world. We see these trees pruned in February, small, reduced, and dead looking. We see them bloom into color in April. We see the elongation of limbs and the heavy fruit that grows in the summer, and I tell them, this is what will always happen when God prunes us. He cuts us back so that we can grow more fruit. Every.Single.Time. He is faithful.

For us, it always starts with listening and obeying in the every day. That's the foundation for our dreams, then we ask "what if..." and then we watch God change our lives.
Because He is always Faithful.

Loops

I like loops.
Roads that begin and end in the same place.
I like leaving and I like coming home.
I like continuity.

My first loop experience was at Capernwray where you left the castle door with a chum or two and came back to the castle door with an enlarged worldview or a poetic twist on your common ideas.

Along the loop you'd see things like this:

And this:

The beauty of the journey shaped my soul as much as the conversation enlarged my thoughts.

I have recently experienced another type of loop. This month, Dave and I celebrated our 20th anniversary. Since we met in England we decided to loop back to Europe to toast our twenty. So in May, Dave and I spent a week in Switzerland.

The Matterhorn

We spoke of our own 20 year loop as we looped along mountain passes and waterfalls. We let our eyes feast on the beauty and our souls feast on the faithfulness of God through the long, winding years. I had time to look at my husband and say, "Thank you. You have been a faithful, loving husband to me for 20 years. I appreciate it. You are more than I deserve. God has shown me His goodness through you."

Tolkien's inspiration for Rivendell. Valley of 72 waterfalls.

Dave had time to tell me a hundred times a day that he thinks I'm beautiful and that he feels very blessed to be my husband. I had time to agree with him.

He took my hand when we crossed the street and he put me on the inside of the sidewalk when we walked. Dave took care of me loving and it reminded me of all the times he has sacrificially cared for me.

 

We are starting out from the castle door again. A new loop with new views and hopefully another 20 years journey to look forward to. There will be steep hills and deep valleys and graves by the roadside. But I wouldn't want to walk it with anyone else.

 

A ruin/graveyard I saw from the town and felt compelled to explore.

 



Our hotel served afternoon tea every day and I loved it!!!

We can see some things on the horizon. Avonlea, our first born, graduated from high school three weeks after we came home. We have our foster care training in August. Rowan starts junior high in the fall. Rose got promoted to the next level of her ballet training.

 

You don't think of the Alps as being blinding, but they were! We could barely open our eyes without sunglasses!

But there are lots of bends and dips in the road that we just can't see. But we know who we're following and we know we will walk next to each other. So we trust and we set out.

I like loops.

Roads that begin and end in the same place.

I like leaving and I like coming home.

I like walking next to you.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



A Risk Worth Taking

Rose wasn't supposed to be Rose.
I had my mind made up that my next little girl was going to be Quinn.
Quinn Anne to be exact and she was going to have dark hair and eyes and live the siren legacy I was bequeathing to her.
And then...years before I'd gotten pregnant with Quinn...Avonlea said, "I'm praying to God for baby Rose." I've never gotten to the bottom of where it came from. Did she like the flower? The carousal horse that she liked to ride whose name was Rose? Laura Ingalls' little daughter? I will never know.
By the time I did get pregnant again Rose was a reality that I couldn't shake. Avonlea had to live through another brother first (she broke down in the ultra-sound lamenting Rose). But finally, soon after Rowan (might I add EXTREMELY soon after) little Rose made her entrance.
Dave and I decided on a middle name and added with our last name, her initials were RSK. One letter away from a risk. That made us laugh and it felt vaguely naughty so we liked it because we never are really naughty so anything that even comes close has appeal.

We had no idea.

Rose is naughty enough for all of us and lives up to her initials.

I laughed out loud today at a memory. Rose was 2 and I was praying for her before she went to bed. My prayer was more a whine than a prayer as I was lifting up before the Lord all the terrifically terrible things my daughter had done that day with the intention of asking Him to FIX the child when I was interrupted by little hands across my mouth and big green eyes inches from my own and a little indignant mouth that said, "STOP TELLING DOD ON ME!"

So I have. I've stopped telling God about what was wrong with my daughter and started thanking Him for the little Rose she is.

I see a beautiful young woman emerging. She is loving and thoughtful and happy. She is loyal and scandalous and dramatic. She is a ballerina. She is an animal lover. She asks good questions and isn't afraid to let us know when our answers are unsatisfactory. She loves Joshua but rolls her eyes at Samson. She wants to be just like her mommy.

Summer is winding down and I will never live this particular one again. That's okay, because I've lived it fully, enjoying this family, my God, the beautiful world.... I let it go and look forward to the next season...

 Rose brought me out into the yard today to watch her throw up the soccer ball and kick it mid-air. She tried about 10 times, missed, and apologized for missing. Finally she said, "I know you don't have time for this Mommy, you can go."
I answered in all sincerity, "Rose I have all the time in the world for you."

Because this whole life is one big risk. Children, the greatest risk of them all. And since I decided to risk it I'm going to do so whole heartedly and love them with everything in me. I'm going to put my arms around them every chance I get. I'm going to make them laugh at every opportunity. I'm going to tuck them into bed and pray with them and share my heart with them. I'm going to listen hard. I'm going to say I'm sorry often. I'm going to kiss their daddy. And I'm going to do some serious talking with God about them (without tattling (much)).

All the time in the world is for right now, for these days.
I'm risking all I've got on them.



Please note, before you put me in league with Samson and roll your eyes at me, that school starts next week. We'll see how I'm feeling about all of this once I start trying to pound math facts in Rose's brain again.  Please remind me then of how much I like her right now.

Walking in the Footprints

Our plane landed in Hawaii at 10:30am.
By 2pm we were on the beach.
We don't believe in wasting time.
Not when there's an ocean involved.

Avonlea, Grant, and Dave had their snorkel gear on and were off. Rowan was catching surf on the boogie board and Rose was rolling in the waves, a horizontal, aquatic Tasmanian devil.

I was on the sand prostrate.
It's like this, I grew up in Alaska. Swimming was just not a popular sport up there. YMCA open swim always ended in an ear infection for me. I like to wade, to my knees. Deeper than that, something strange happens to my lungs, and I can't seem to get enough air to make rational decisions.

All that to say, I was on the sand prostrate.
The sky was wide-awake blue and the clouds were moving over it quickly. I couldn't remember the last time I watched the clouds. Then, like something out of a novel, the clouds made a picture right above me and held. It was a footprint. A perfect gigantic footprint complete with tread. A shapely heel, a wide curvature to a narrow toe line, a perfect footprint.

I've heard about the fingerprints of God, so why not footprints?

After a bit it dissipated. I didn't see anything else of interest.

I remembered that footprint in the days to come as we celebrated Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Jesus walked this earth. He left His footprints everywhere, even on the water. Even though His footprints were made thousands of years ago, I'm still trying to follow them.

Part of that following, is discipleship.
Dave and I spent every morning of this vacation reading the Word, talking about it, and praying with our children. We were intentional in our conversations with our kids and with others.

 We followed by celebrating. Our first born is approaching 15 and this trip was our present to her, the last vacation she gets to pick.

She has always been a water baby. She is the first one in the ocean and the last one out. She snorkels like a pro and identifies all kinds of fish and eels. She likes to swim with big turtles. There were times when she'd come in from snorkeling and we'd all be standing there, dressed and packed, waiting to go. One of those times, I said, "Don't you realize when you're out there, that we are all waiting to leave?" She looked at me in surprise and replied, "I was exploring the ocean!"

Point taken. So we let her explore God's creation. And we let her tell us all about it. Her excitement was joyous and her laugh loud. We followed by delighting in the good gifts of God.

We celebrated this little woman as well. Rose turned 8 and Bridgette (doll) turned 7. Rose delighted in frolicking in her tankini this trip. She stated seriously that she was going to stop wearing two piece swimsuits when she turned nine because they were so immodest and she didn't want anyone looking at her "stuff". I'm not sure what "stuff" she'll have at nine, but I'm glad she's thinking that direction.

We followed by feasting.
Every meal was shared and enjoyed.
Every meal was an opportunity to thank God for His provision for us.

We followed by laughing.
Our condo overlooked a luau. Almost every night we were able to watch amazing hula dancers and fire throwers. One night during a hula, Grant got the binoculars out. He watched the hula dancers so long that I started to get a little nervous.
Finally he said, "I see pork. And rice. Lots of salads. Oh it looks so good!"
Apparently he was watching the food bar and not the dancer's "stuff". Thank you Lord.

We followed by loving each other, even when we didn't feel like it. Even when we were tired and grumpy  and bickering. Even when expectations went unmet and the time change caused my children to wake up at 4:30am ready to start the day. Even when we had sand in uncomfortable places.

One night I brought them all into bed with us and cuddled them.
I told them, "When I was a little girl in Alaska..."
A teenager interrupted with, "I think we've heard this one."
I graciously ignored him and continued. "When I was a little girl in Alaska, I dreamed about someday having a loving husband, and a white house..."
"Yep, we've definitely heard this."
I kept my calm and sought revenge, "...a white house and two beautiful girls and two funny, strong boys. But God doesn't always give us what we ask for and I got you four instead...."

Like everything in life, this vacation was an opportunity to grow. As we read God's Word, we looked at how He walked. As we celebrated Easter, we saw the sorrow and joy in His path, the heights and depths He traveled.

I hope that when our kids look back on this trip they'll remember that the journey of God is full of joy, beauty, and fellowship. I pray that the confidence they gain by following on the sand will nurture in them the faith to follow when He calls them out upon the water.

Scotland

A friend reminded me today of a story that I began in the church foyer several weeks ago, I was interrupted in the middle of it, and it was left dangling, glinting in the memory with the allure of the unknown, unresolved. A half-told story is an appealing thing. And yet, my friend, correctly surmised that that is an analogy of life right now, an interrupted story, a thing of interest half-told.
Morning comes and the story I begin here is interrupted a dozen times over, but I know it will get told eventually. So I persist in the telling, I take the detours, but I always come back to the story in the end. And in the meantime, it glistens in the atmosphere of our day, a tantalizing reminder to my children that someone cares enough about them to persist in the story.
So despite the fact that summer has ended and the ceaseless rains puddle deep, despite the fact that we have transitioned into school and activities with a surprising resemblance to a Tasmanian Devil, despite the fact that I'm driving my time without a spare, I'd still like to finish my story of our journey this July.
So I will. At least until I'm interrupted.

We drove out of London up to Edinburgh, Scotland. "Drove" is such an easy word to write. But WOW! try driving on the wrong side of the road, in the wrong side of the car, on round-a-bouts with just under a dozen exits, and you have a panic attack waiting to happen.
Once we got out of London, we were okay. That's a little like writing "once we got out of the bear's den we were fine." We had enough mess-ups to stretch our 6 hour car ride into a 8+ hour car ride. Fun is truly not the word.
Anyway.
Once we got to Edinburgh, we lived it up.

St. Giles Cathedral

Edinburgh Castle



Mary Queen of Scots bath house. Love the idea of a separate, multi-storied house to bathe in.

Some monument to something.

Grant wants it documented that there was lots of loose change in this park.

Gotta love the bagpipes.

Sir Walter Scott's monument, one of Scotland's famous authors.

We ended up coming home with a reindeer hide and an Icelandic sheep hide.

Avonlea is carrying the aforesaid hides in this picture. Note the cobblestone streets and phone booths. Disregard the Subway sandwich shop.

Another angle of Edinburgh Castle.

Rosy and I in front of some happy houses.

Hanging out. On a canon.

We spent quite a bit of time on this canon for some reason.

This is the castle draw-bridge, going over the moat.



We only stayed in Scotland for two days, but we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. This is a picture of the country-side as we drove to Capernwray from Edinburgh. Can you see the lambies? See the tombstones?

I feel like Scotland itself is a story half-told, because I want to go back.

And this journey is still only half told because I have to go to bed.

But it's pleasant to have the unwritten words still dangle alluringly in the future.....

I'll leave you with a picture of a monument that they only got half way finished before they ran out of money. The Scottish people decided they liked it the way it was....there was something tantalizing in the very half-finishedness of it....