Instead of a Brain Dump

The problem with being a slow processor is that when life happens at too great a pace, things pile up before I get the brain space to write about them. Then I feel overwhelmed and decide to never update the blog again. Or I consider doing a brain dump, which no one would actually enjoy reading, or just writing about something completely unrelated to everything that's happened, which feels untruthful. This is my attempt at a happy medium, I guess. Blogging on a regular basis might be the best happy medium, but actually accomplishing that appears to be beyond me these days.

The Man and I have spent the last couple months rearranging plans, digging through our post-hurricane moldy possessions, juggling separations and short visits, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy and RV shopping. We were able to save far more than most, and the RV we have purchased (and just moved into) is far nicer than most of the homes in the neighborhood where I grew up...even if we will be cramming 7 humans and 3 pets into less than 400 square feet. I've learned a few things during the last few weeks. I hope you won't mind if I share a few of them with you.

• If a man voluntarily trades in a quiet hotel room to cram into an RV with you and your five kids (and three pets) so that you don't have to be separated for 9 months to a year, he really does love you. Stay married to that dude. Also, if he pauses in the middle of speed packing what's left of your moldy belongings to let you cry over the now moldy Indonesian chest your parents gave you on graduating high school--even while you're trying to be tough and keep packing--hold onto that moment. Doing hard things together is ten times better than doing easy things by yourself. Especially because together with the Man frequently means Indian food.
• If your parents voluntarily allow you and your five kids (and three pets) to move in with them for an open ended amount of time, you have it made in the parent department. If they also do hours of art and millions of games of Go Fish and Crazy Eights with your emotionally fragile kids, and lovingly tolerate the scribbles added to the cabinets and the new dents in the walls, just say thank you. Maybe say thank you more than one time and possibly pay for a house cleaner to come.
• Kids are resilient. That doesn't make what they are going through not hard. Being together is a strong motivator for resiliency though. Having a plan and an end date makes resiliency easier to come by.
• Close quarters mean fewer toys which means faster cleaning sessions. Win.
• RV designers underestimate how much a normal person would prefer a smaller bed which would provide the space to actually walk to the bathroom without tripping on a wall.
• Happy pets make easy travelers. Heading to Josh makes for happy pets. Now we know which one of us they really like.
• Living five minutes away from cousins/aunt/uncle is awesome. Sometimes when bad things happen (like hurricanes and family separations), we get to experience joy bringing opportunities (like getting to see some of my favorite people every day).
• It's okay to cry. It's also okay to laugh about the fact that you cry about everything.
• Just because our normal doesn't look like everyone else's normal doesn't mean that our normal isn't good.

I'm sure I'll be back with more later. Although considering the fact that there is evidently a YouTube family who do RV life with nine kids, I realize that my blog is not going to provide the novelty factor everyone else expects. But self care and all that. For now: I'm off to buy a litter scoop, mosquito spray, and butter...because priorities make self care easier to come by.

Seasonal Achievements

I wake up every morning and I think about all the stuff I can get done during the day if I just work smarter, time manage more effectively, and don't waste any time. Then by the end of the day, I can see just how little I've accomplished and just how exhausted I am, and I realize why I don't finish more of the items on my list. And the why might be connected to the five kids I finally managed to tuck in bed. But by the next morning, I'm sure that I'll be able to fit in just 20 minutes of flute practice or finish an actual blog (without having to stop two paragraphs in and then never completing the rest) or make actual headway on the book that I'm editing for a friend. Because surely I will handle things better today. Surely I will figure out a way to do All the Things!

But lately I've been thinking of a different time in my life. The summer before my senior year  of high school I discovered that I was short two years of PE. I signed up for a weight lifting class (which I used to take long walks off campus with my best friend instead of actually lifting weights) but that only covered half of the necessary credits. The powers-that-be agreed to a self directed summer program to count for the other credit. That summer my goal was to be able to run 5 miles in 40 minutes. By the end of the summer, I could run 5 miles in 40 minutes and 22 seconds, but I never managed to cut those 22 seconds off, and it drove me nuts. Fast forward fifteen years, and suddenly my body can knock out 5 miles in less than 40 minutes, and I don't even feel like I'm about to die at the end.

What I'm learning from this is that there are seasons (wow, it's like I've never had to learn this lesson before...). There are years when some goals are met and others are not. There is ebb and flow. But we are rarely in a season when everything works together seamlessly and our strengths are playing out on all fronts. Probably because then we would find ourselves drifting off on the wind, held aloft by our over-inflated heads...

This season has been a good one in many ways, if a hard one in many others. I can get frustrated about the personal goals that are not being met, or I can rejoice in the ones that (miraculously) are and in the other ways our family is learning and growing--even if those ways are not as tangible as published blog posts or a package in the mail to my friend with her (fully edited) book that I luckily evacuated with.

Yesterday instead of practicing flute, I helped my daughter work through a tantrum. Instead of blogging, I taught my sons how to look for hope in dark places. Instead of plowing through my work that I deem important, I got to serve dinner to my grandmother. Maybe tomorrow there will be editing or music or completed phone calls or new car tags. But for today, there is still so much.

The Man and I standing on the site where our new home will be parked.
Totally upgraded for a water view.

{Thank you for still taking the time to read when I post. I know it doesn't happen often these days. Thank you for continuing to pray for us as well. We have plans in the works to get our family back together by the middle of January. The Man is continuing to fight the good fight on our recovering base while the kids and I redefine home for a while at my parents'. Next step will involve a very large RV, not a whole lot of personal space, and boundless opportunities to learn patience and look for beauty.}

Patient Grief

In May, the Man accidentally scraped a chair over my toenail, leaving a blackish purple bruise that slowly crept closer and closer to the tip of my toe for weeks. Just a week earlier, Oswald had bitten a hole straight through the thumb nail of my right hand while trying to avoid getting his vaccinations updated. That thumb nail turned funny colors and parts of it flaked off as the hole ever so slowly moved upward. Just two weeks ago, I finally got to the point where both nails look normal again. All signs of damage have grown out. My thumb and toe no longer look completely disgusting. It took almost five months.

Five months for the outward signs of what was fairly minimal damage to disappear.

I am writing this to remind myself to have grace for myself during times of healing--and I guess also to remind you too. If something like a smashed toenail can take five months to repair itself, how long will it take to heal emotional damage done to something much more delicate and much more necessary to life, like a heart?

When we undergo emotional trauma, whether on a large scale or a small, we expect ourselves to get over it quickly. We try, even, to rush ourselves through the stages of grief. Quickly! Denial! Anger! Bargaining! Depression! Acceptance! And done! Or we think that we can grieve on a timeline. A year has gone by since we lost a loved one and we expect our hearts to be over it. Six weeks have gone by since we moved and we should be feeling settled again. We've had another child after the loss of a pregnancy, and we expect ourselves to be completely happy without any lingering sense of loss. But if you had asked me how long it would take for my toenail to get better (my toenail!), I would have said two months. Tops. It took five months. For a freaking toenail. (Don't ask me what I thought about my fingernail--I was pretty sure the whole nail was going to fall off and I was going to be having lots of super awkward hand shakes while meeting new people after our move.)

If you are in a season of grief, no matter how insignificant a grief it seems in this moment, please: be patient with yourself. And remember that there is One who is near to the broken hearted, who binds up our wounds (no matter how trivial they may seem to others), one who has offered to be the strength of our hearts and our portion forever (not just for a socially acceptable period of grieving). He saves those who are crushed in spirit, without rushing us to get over it, without demanding that we get it together, without pushing us to Be Happy (so help me). He asks only that we look up and see him, the one who took our pain and bore our suffering, who was pierced for our sins and crushed for our wickedness...and he offers us himself. He offers us peace. Peace that does not pretend away the grief but that takes the grief and understands that from this too He can bring good. He can bring healing, but only in his timing. And he kept the scars on his hands and feet for eternity.

May we be patient with ourselves. And may we look up.

Get After It

post-run coffee and inspiration

This morning, after my run, I sat down with one of the Man's motivational coffee mugs that informed me that I needed to "Get After It". I tried to convince the coffee cup that Getting Up in the morning and Getting Out for a run was enough Getting for one day. But no, the coffee cup informed me, my loyal readers needed me to step up my game and try for what has now become my once monthly blog posting. Said coffee cup also informed me that I should probably answer a couple dozen text messages I've been avoiding, finish the laundry, and homeschool my children (like a boss). Luckily for me, the aforementioned coffee cup was almost large enough to hold an entire French Press worth of coffee so at least it provided back up for its inspiration.

This kid needs no help motivating her way to crazy

Tiny showing the rest of us how to get it done
(also like a boss).

Here's the problem with motivational coffee mugs, though. They don't take into account actual real life circumstances. Like when you spend all day telling your kids to do the same things they have to do every day...and still have to repeat yourself five trillion times. Or when actually answering text messages just causes people to respond to your answers so that you then have to answer more text messages. Or when you're so tired that you have to take a cat nap in the trunk of the car between unloading groceries. Not that I've ever done that...

Bruiser's wild and wonderful imaginings.
Can't imagine what he would create if I gave him coffee...
Or a motivational mug...

It's in those moments that we chuck the motivational coffee mugs and give ourselves a little grace. Just make sure you drink the coffee first. Because then, after you have extended yourself some grace, you have the energy to try again to rise to the occasion. And take on the world. Or just, you know, Get After It. Side note: I'm no longer completely sure what that phrase means but it seems like something I should tell myself on repeat (in between repeating "Nothing should be in your mouth but food or your toothbrush" and "If you're done with that, put it away").

Littles was inspired to create pizzadillas last week.
Best stroke of genius ever.

Not sure what motivated me more to change this kid's diaper:
her absolutely adorable smile,
the fact that she brought me a diaper and the wipes unasked,
or the terrifying reek emanating from her hind quarters.

Today, though, I thought you'd like to help me create our own list of motivational coffee mugs, ones that are more grounded in real life and less in sounding cool. I'll get us started. Here are a few ideas that could help someone you know get through their day with more success:

• Just Say "No" To Socializing
• Read More Books. Ignore More People.
• Hide in the Bathroom
• Naps Are For Winners
• Coffee Gets Cold. To Do Lists Don't.

Feel free to add your own in the comments section. Remember: we want to inspire other people but not forget that they are actual human beings whose supply of chocolate and sanity may be running low. So go on now: get creative or just...get after it.

Another motivation mug message:
Kiss a Crabby Baby

Books for Me, Books for You

It's been a reading summer for us, lots of afternoons curled up on the couch with the Bigs enjoying books out loud...at least until Bruiser starts to interrupt more than every other paragraph, which is when I throw in the towel and make them go play legos. As of last week, we've started back to school, but it didn't even put a dent in our read aloud time because--this is the joy of homeschooling. Also, I'm not going to lie, reading out loud is one of the few things that I really feel like I do well as a parent and teacher, so I'm doing my best to capitalize on that and hope it evens out my other deficiencies.

How my crazy kids do their first day of school picture.
The fact that Twinkles has a pen in her hand and is about to draw
on herself should've been a sign of things to come.

Some of the following books are suggestions. Some are reflections. And some are cautionary tales. You can determine which books belong in which categories.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis :: The kids and I had just started The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when we left Texas. We systematically read through the whole series, the kids picking their favorite characters as they went and adding lots of book references to our family lexicon of jokes. Finally, we blew threw The Last Battle in record time, the week before school started--thank you, Twinkle, for taking really excellent afternoon naps two days in a row. Hands down my favorite part of this whole experience? Seeing the kids' faces light up every time Aslan appeared in the story. May I model for them that same joy for Jesus, our real live Aslan.

Water to Wine by Brian Zahnd :: I bought this book in order to make use of the prayer liturgy he includes--which was just as soul encouraging as I thought it would be. The rest of the book was thought provoking, challenging, and prayer inducing. Do not read if you want someone who will agree with you on everything. Do read if you want your soul to stretch and your heart to be pointed back to Jesus while your mind is simultaneously challenged past the status quo.

Teaching from a Place of Rest by Sarah Mackenzie :: Earlier in the summer, I enjoyed Mackenzie's latest book The Read-Aloud Family. Then a new neighborhood/homeschool friend asked me if I'd be willing to "book club" through Teaching from a Place of Rest, and of course I said yes (our version of book clubbing--the only kind of clubbing I do--is walking around the block in the pitch black dark, talking as loudly as possible about our homeschooling perils in order to hopefully scare away the black bears. They should be scared by both the noise and the topic of conversation: if we can survive homeschooling, we can survive anything). I'm going slowly through the book, but it is giving me a lot of much needed encouragement as we tackle yet another year of home schooling, this time with four kids studying and one very attention hungry one year old doing her best to distract us. At this point, I would give it a highly recommend, but I promise to update the book blog if next chapter she suggests duct taping my kids to their chairs and playing Baby Einstein videos for them while I nap.

Water My Soul by Luci Shaw :: I'm not writing much about this now because this book deserves its own, personal, all-by-itself post, but Shaw's meditation on soul growth in connection with nature has made my early morning quiet so much richer. I try to squeeze in just a couple paragraphs a day after I read my Bible (and hopefully before the hordes descend upon me), and every time I come away with some small nugget of truth to hold onto throughout the day. Highly recommend. Side informational tidbit for you: Luci Shaw was one of Madeleine L'Engle's best friends.

The kids and I have been on an audiobook kick since July. Honestly, I'm kind of mad that it took me so long to jump on the audiobook band wagon. The Man tried to tell me, but I was so convinced that it wouldn't work for us that I didn't listen. How wrong I was. How much crow I have eaten.

Here's the Man graciously reading to Twinkle
instead of saying "I told you so."

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis :: What an incredible introduction to audiobooks this was.  The kids and I plowed through most of Bud, Not Buddy driving home from TN last month, and cheerfully ran errands for the next week in our attempt to finish it. The reading by James Avery was...amazing. He did all the voices better than I could've imagined possible--and my imagination is not one to be kept down. I'm not going to lie: the whole way through Bud, Not Buddy I kept waiting for something to happen that would turn me off to the book. But the something never came. Also, all the jazz made my heart happy. The story is about an orphan boy who escapes his foster home and goes looking for his father, but it's so much better than that makes it sound.

The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum :: Our next pick was The Wizard of Oz, and honestly, I really think audiobooks are saving us from a sense of frustration regarding the commute time here. Coming from San Antonio, I thought that all the people who warned us about commute time in our small city here were just complaining unnecessarily. But the truth is: it takes forever to get anywhere here, and I still can't really figure out why. But at least we had Dorothy, Toto, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion to keep us company this month. We're watching the movie on Friday, and the kids are so excited, although I warned them that Dorothy's slippers are ruby red in the movie, not silver. As an insight into my children's souls though, yesterday I overheard the twins pretending to be the Wicked Witch of the West (Bee) and the winged monkeys (Bruiser--he is a whole pack of winged monkeys rolled into one).

The Little Man's solo chapter book reading is exploding right now too. Although I did bribe him to read something new the other day (one cannot continuously reread even Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia without eventually having one's mind turn to mush). The promise of two chocolate chips introduced him to:

A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears by Jules Feiffer :: Roger makes people laugh, not by being funny but just by being. Everything in Roger's life is hilarious--except for the fact that no one around him can stop laughing. Littles also could not stop laughing. I counted introducing him to this book as my parenting win for the year. Now I can rest on my laurels until 2019.

Mr Lemoncello's Library Series by Chris Grabenstein :: One of the joys of loving children's literature and having actual children of your very own is getting to read children's books with impunity and then introduce the ones that you really like to the kids that you really like. I blew threw the Mr Lemoncello's Library series and have now gotten Littles sucked into them (when he comes up for air in between Redwall books). In fact, I even got the Man's super old kindle working so that Littles could read the ones our library doesn't have but Army MWR Library does. Thank you, online library of a different military branch for being awesome. And for letting me bum off you forever and ever. And ever.

The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place by Maryrose Wood :: Oh so quirky. Oh so fun. I'm three books in on this six book series and waiting for the sequels is killing me. I'm considering just buying all six of them for the kids to read (because they have managed to make learning fun as well as just being fun), but it bothers me that they don't come in a box set, which I realize is unbelievably petty. If you want to know what it would be like to be a fifteen year old prim, British governess to three children who were, presumably, raised by wolves, you too could enjoy these books. Personally, I'm enjoying them for all the wonderfully abstract sayings of Agatha Swanburne. This series is next on my list of books to bribe Littles to read.

Wonder by R. J. Palacio :: As for the other kids, they are reading a smattering of everything (we are still finishing up Noel Streatfield's Ballet Shoes) but our main enjoyment right now has been Palacio's Wonder. It's my second time reading it, but it's still making my heart so happy. Also, it's making it cry a little, but the kids just think I'm doing a really good job reading all the voices and don't get that I'm actually choked up.

Last but not least, a few words on board books (let us not forget Twinkle in all these Big People Books).

Where's Spot? by Eric Hill :: Seriously, why is this book even a thing? I get that it's super fun to open all the little flaps (or, in Bruiser's case, to rip off all the little flaps with impunity--Twinkle's copy was a post-twin gift), but why do we feel it necessary to solidify in our one year old's vocabulary the word, "No"? Couldn't Eric Hill have worked in a different word? Twinkle already knows how to express her "no"s perfectly well without his help. Thanks, but no thanks, Eric Hill.

Goodnight, Moon by Margaret Wise Brown :: Does it bother anyone else that the bowl full of mush is just going to sit there all night, not getting eaten, completely wasted, and congealing to the bowl? It will be a concrete block of mush by morning. Good luck cleaning that out. I have to know: does this bother anyone else? Anyone?!

At any rate, these are just a few of our latest reads because books are happiness, and happiness should be shared. Consider this my "Just Because I Love You" book blog. Because I do. Also, I realize that the littlest Friz was unfairly represented in this blog, but it was not purposeful. She's just the only one who tolerates photo shoots right now. It's not because she's cuter than the rest of them or I love her more. In fact, she was neither cuter nor more lovable when she opened a new box of raisins this morning while I was in the middle of the twins' reading lesson and dumped half of them onto the carpet which badly needed to be vacuumed thereby covering aforementioned raisins with a thick coating of pet fur. She also wasn't cute nor terribly lovable when she dumped water in the play dough that I was using to keep the twins happy so I could finish Spanish with the Boys. But you know, that's neither here nor there. Books are happy! That's the take away. Happy Wednesday-almost-Thursday!

Summer Meet Ups

We start school this week, which means that our summer days of frantically trying to get settled in but still be as lazy as possible are now drawing to a close. Sure, we smacked a couple of weeks of school in there post move, but most of it has been beach trips and unpacking and hanging pictures and bopping in to see the Man at work while simultaneously scarring the entire squadron with the sight of our children. It's fun for the whole family! But the highlight of the summer, at least for me, has been meeting up with a whole truck load of old friends.

A friend from college and her son got to play with the clan at a splash pad while we were in TN (and they drove 2 hours in order to do so). I did a last minute drop in on some friends from our time in Oklahoma, who now live in Alabama and graciously fed us lunch before we finished our drive home. I had a friend from Monterey who moved to Seattle come down for a beach day with our kids. On Saturday, we got to rendezvous with a friend from my time in Virginia who now lives in the Netherlands with her family. And tomorrow a friend from childhood is stopping for the night as her family moves to South Carolina. Now if only someone from my time in DC would decide to swing by, my summer of old friends would be complete. I'm not naming names, but you should know that our guest bed is super comfy. And the beach is seriously a two minute walk from the house. Also, if you come after Wednesday you get to help homeschool the kids. And you know you desperately want to do that.

And I just realized that I'm wearing the same shirt
on three out of four of those days...

I have been thinking of God's goodness in letting some of these friendships continue. Some of these friends I had not seen in years. Some of these friends I hadn't kept up with terribly well. These friends have changed jobs, moved, married, had kids, suffered terrible griefs... We'd missed major life events, but still, for just an hour or two we got to enjoy each other, listen to each other, hug one another. And I was grateful. I am grateful.

It is hard to keep up with friends the way that I would like. We have moved (on average) every two years over the last decade. That means that every two years, I am making new friends who I will then want to keep up with the next time we move (while still making more new friends). Sometimes this is a logistical challenge. Often, people that I love and enjoy slip through the cracks. But we have grace for each other, and we take the moments (and the facebook messages) when we can get them.

I had a friend message me only last week, just to tell me that she had been thinking of me and she was trying to be more intentional in her relationships so she messaged when she had a moment. We haven't seen each other in a decade. But I so love that she did that. I'm hoping to squeeze in a phone call to her this week in between finalizing homeschool plans and changing six sets of sheets, not because I have to but because if I can, I want to. And no, we probably will not start weekly phone dates but I will love that fifteen minute phone call just like I loved that five sentence "I'm thinking of you" note.

We all get it: we are busy. No matter how much I pare down and say no to, I think the nature of adulting is busyness. But there are things that take so little time and effort. I want to be the friend who sends that text message to say, "You were on my mind today." I want to be the kind of person who says, "I'm driving through your town today; want to meet up?" I want to pick up the phone and listen well. To the best of my ability. And I am so grateful for the friends who have grace for me when my best ability falls short.

Fish or Snake?

"What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion?" Luke 11:11-12

I was recently thinking back on my husband's decade in the military (our family's decade as a military family). Ten years, two deployments, five kids, five moves, more short term separations than I can count... Looking back, I see things so differently now than I did then, in large part because I now have a different perspective on so many of the things that happened.

This morning I read the above verse and it reminded me of a scene in one of our favorite family movies, Father Goose. In the movie, Leslie Caron's character, Catherine, believes herself to be bitten by a snake which turns out to be only a stick with thorns. When one of the young girls goes to kill the "snake" and discovers the truth, she brings it back to Walter (played by Cary Grant) who believes Catherine to have died from the poisonous snake bite. The following conversation ensues:

Anne, holding out stick: It wasn't a snake. It was this.
Walter: Well, that's not a snake.
Anne: It looks like a snake.
Walter: Well, that's not a snake.
Anne, hands Walter the stick: Here, watch out for the thorns.
Walter, takes stick: Thank you. [pause] It's not a snake.
Anne: It looks like a snake.
Walter, considering: No... it doesn't... This looks like a snake!

I think sometimes I'm a lot like Anne, trying to defend the way I see things wrongly with "But it looks like a snake." I think back to my first pregnancy. I was so angry at God for disrupting my plans for grad school and a career that it took me several months to see my transition into motherhood as a fish to nourish me instead of a snake to harm me. Similarly, the two deployments we have gone through (which is so few compared to many others) looked like scorpions attacking our marriage instead of precious eggs that fed us on the yolk of community and dependence on Christ. The many separations appeared to be stones to beat us down instead of bread to strengthen us (Matt 7). I can look back now and know that what God gave me was not a snake to bite me but a fish to feed me...but what I want is to recognize--in the moment--that I have a God worth trusting even when sticks look like snakes.

One of the ways that we are able to do this more effectively is to consistently put truth into our minds. I have to remind myself over and over again that no matter what things may look like on the surface, God is good and does good. If that is my truth then I can act out of that truth, no matter the circumstances. One of the quotes I have been meditating on this year is from Julian of Norwich who said, "All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well." Although--in the spirit of honesty--I memorized it wrong and have it in my head as "All is well, all shall be well." The mindset is the same: all is well because we know that Jesus has already won the battle against sin. All shall be well because we know we have hope for the future. But we have to remind ourselves of these truths because on the surface, things don't always look so good.

So we say to ourselves, over and over again: all is well, all shall be well. God is good and does good. It looks like a snake...but it's not one. And we ask God to give us more of his Spirit so that when we look at the world we can see it the way he does, so that we can see the gifts he gives for the gifts they really are. And we know that He wants to give us his Spirit because he tells us so. And he's worth trusting.

"If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!" Luke 11:13