Timeline

Every time we move, there are new ropes to learn, but it's almost always the same timeline (at least for me). I find that in general, for about two weeks prior to the move and then two weeks following the move, I'm possessed with an almost manic energy. Sleep is hard to come by because my mind won't turn off; food is optional; coffee is sometimes even forgotten as I plow through my To Do list (and sometimes try to take on everyone else's) like a juggernaut. The Man and the children have gotten to the point where they mostly just get out of my way, although the Man does occasionally put his foot down and make me quit to do fun things or just go to bed. During this time, I also try to implement my new cleaning, writing, and exercise schedules because this makes total logical sense to someone who is borderline insane with sleep deprivation.

After the two week post move mark though, I crash. Hard. There are naps. There are long hours sitting in the recliner re-reading comfort books. There are early bed times and over slept alarms. There is utilizing persistently meowing cats to get myself out of bed in the morning (and once they've been fed, there's no going back upstairs to get back in bed so I might as well curl up in the recliner and stare off into space while pretending to write). There is no energy to go run, so I take the dog for a walk, and since he thinks he's still a puppy, he might drag me behind him for a mile or so while I ask plaintively every few steps, "Are we done yet? Can we go home now? Is it time to stop?"

I'm seeing empty spaces on the boys' bookshelf,
which means it's time to find a used bookstore.

Meanwhile the actual settling in continues. The girls' bed doesn't arrive, and I find myself glued to the window watching the UPS guy like a hawk. I put in groceries at the nearest grocery store and instead of giving me four bananas (which I thought I ordered), they give me four bunches of bananas. I make banana bread and take it to a meeting I have for our homeschool co-op, building relationships over shared facepalms. I find a chunk of dried rice on the base of our farmhouse table that has been sitting there since before the hurricane (I think I've pin-pointed it to the cilantro lime rice we ate before we evacuated). I find a piece of elbow pasta sitting in the middle of our kitchen counter after nearly three weeks in the house during which time I have not once cooked elbow pasta. I manage to get bleach spots on the knee of my one pair of nice pants while doing an emergency clean of the refrigerator because we'd run out of ziplock bags and the meat I'd wrapped in saran wrap had leaked everywhere.

So many bananas...

We learn to navigate our new neighborhood, which in these times means spending a lot of time rubbing antibacterial hand sanitizer into hands that are covered with tiny cuts from moving boxes and setting up furniture. The stinging sensation helps keep me awake on days I don't get naps. I also spend a lot of time wondering if masks are going to be the death of the spoken word as I pick up pizza and talk to hardware guys and ask questions in the plant section and repeat myself often.

Comfort books for all.

This tired phase where I sit in the car in the driveway because I don't have the energy to walk into the house will last until the six week mark, and then there will be a return to some semblance of normalcy. I will be normal adult tired instead of moving adult tired. New relationships will have been kicked off, and there will be the now familiar sensation of having settled in somewhat. It helps to have done this before so that there's less freaking out that I'm going to feel like this forever. It also helps to know that this is normal. Other military wives tell me that they have the six week to two months timeline too.

Blythe is my recliner nap buddy.

And then it passes. And we'll be doing school and meeting new friends for playdates and putting in what has become a regular grocery order and feeling the comforting structure of routine settling around us...while waiting on news for our next move. Because this is how the world turns. And honestly, in a world where you can go from one place to the next and meet interesting people and try new things and move furniture around to make a snug home and learn and grow and stretch (and sometimes take naps)...even with masks and missing bunk beds and mystery pasta...it's a pretty great life.

Togetherness

Some of you may be wondering how our transition into a house from the RV might be going. We've been asked few times if we're losing each other now that we're not stacked like sardines into a 35 foot trailer or if we're so used to all that togetherness that we're following each other from room to room as we go throughout the day. The answer is: yes.

This cat loves the togetherness,
but also hid in the garage for two nights
and scared the mess out of us.

It is wonderful to be able to get up in the morning and come downstairs and sit in a chair in an empty room and have a quiet time without worrying that the sounds of my coffee being made are going to wake up the whole family. But it was also wonderful last night curled up on the couch with Twinkle while the twins stretched out on the floor in front of me playing some joint twin version of solitaire (they call it "solitary") and the Man and the Bigs played rummy and UNO at the other end of the couch. I like the togetherness because I like them. With that said, I didn't love when the kids turned the house into a giant nerf war zone as it was just as loud as when they would do it in the RV, and I kept waiting for someone to come falling through the ceiling. Although I will say, I get caught in the cross fire way less now that we're in a house. Still, there's a front yard--and a back one!--and they aren't small. Take your warlike ways to the great outdoors.

I did think that the noise level would decrease upon being in a house. I was wrong. I was on a phone call with a friend the other day, and she commented on how quiet it was (you know, as opposed to the normal background chatter of "Mom! I need a snack!", "Mom! I stubbed my toe and my foot now needs to be amputated!", "Mom! So-and-so keeps putting the body bind curse on me!", "Mom! The twins are trying to sell me to gypsies again!"). I informed her it was quiet because I was hiding in a closet. Please note that I now have a closet large enough for me to sit in. When I got off the phone, though, I realized it wasn't just the closet buffering the noise: the Man had let the kids watch a movie. Screen time: the only way you can lull your children into silence until all five of them are capable of reading to themselves. That and sleep.

All that space: still sitting together on the window seat.

There are things that we are loving about being in a house, and things that we are missing about the RV. I miss the water view, but we have a hillside of beautiful trees right out our window. I miss how quickly I could be done with vacuuming, but this just means the kids are being put to good use for manual labor more often. I miss knowing our neighbors, but hopefully we will get to know these too (though COVID makes that a bit more challenging). I miss my little pallet garden, but we have house plants now. I miss all our Florida friends, of course, but there is texting and FaceTime and zoom calls and hopefully one day a guest room that's actually got furniture (instead of just boxes of books and empty mattresses) where they can stay when they come see us.

Happiness is green glasses,
napkin rings, and a real table.

I'm loving having everything in one place although I keep not finding things that I thought had made it through the move/hurricane (waffle iron, waffle iron, where did you go?). I'm loving having bookshelves again, even though it makes me want to buy more books, especially since the libraries here aren't open yet. I am loving (more than I can say) having a washer/dryer in the house so that I can do as much laundry as I want whenever I want--and not have to pay for anything other than the water bill. I am loving having a piano again--and it even got tuned yesterday!--and a place to play my flute without feeling like all of Fam Camp might be listening in. I am loving being able to put an entire meal's worth of food in the oven at one time (see last post about the pizza). I'm loving (for real) not having the cat litter underneath my daughter's bed (even if technically my daughter doesn't have a bed yet since it's taking five years to get here). I am loving having dinner at a table where we can look at each other (and not straight at a TV), where all the food fits on the table, where the water glasses don't spill if you accidentally bump the table by crossing your legs. I am loving that half of my kids can sleep in if they want to because the other half come downstairs to harass me into making breakfast instead of causing a racket pretty much on top of the sleeping children.

And speaking of, said children are now downstairs harassing me into making breakfast. So on that note: happy Wednesday!

Moving Blurbs

It was our last official day in the RV when I started this blog post (so if you were waiting until the last moment to buy this thing, you're now going to have to purchase from a different state), and I was sitting with a cat in my lap watching the dawn light stretch the tree shadows long and slim while using my cell phone hotspot to access blogger because our internet decided our last week in the RV was the most appropriate time to crap out on us. Really, it wasn't wrong. 

Change of Command: ignore the kids' faces

 

Had to take the dog for one last morning walk on the shore

 

Now, however, I'm sitting in our very comfortable, very well used recliner that has been rescued from the storage unit in which it has been languishing for almost two years, and I'm watching the sunlight creep up the hill covered in tall unbroken trees that I can see out of the huge bay window in our sitting room in the new house. That's right: there's a sitting room and a living room because we're fancy now. Also, we've officially moved.

Road trip buddy

  

It's been several weeks since I wrote last and a lot of big stuff has been happening in the world. Those two things are related. So, yes, while part of the reason I haven't written this month is just that it's been incredibly busy and I have been incredibly tired, the other reason is that I prefer to process slowly and quietly in my own head and not feel like I have to comment in public on something I'm still thinking about in private. With that said, this blog is not going to be about big things, but just about little things. But if you'd like to talk to me about big things, you missed my window while I was on the road driving. Kidding: you can still call and I will take a much needed break from putting together new furniture--and I will love getting to hear a familiar voice on the phone.

So much space!

 

With that said, some blurbs for the move:

• This has been an interesting move as it's happened in shifts, so when I got asked how the move prep going, I told them that it was going something like this: workworkwork...wait... wait... wait... workworkwork.... wait... wait... wait... workworkwork. But in between there's a lot of SOCIALIZE!!! and then a few rounds of recovery.
• Speaking of, self isolating did not prepare me for these last few weeks of intense pre-move socialization. My badly exercised peopling muscle got a real workout those last few days in Florida.

      My fellow introvert enjoying his quiet.
He asked me to schedule in down time those last couple weeks...
                           and it was much needed.                                       

• The last week before the move, the Man took a trailer up to the new house with mattresses in it and a few boxes of things I no longer needed in the RV. I packed nonessentials like extra clothes (don't need all those sweaters right now in FL) and lamps and school books. Guess what was left on my nightstand: a stack of around a dozen books. I know what I cannot do without. The coffee pot was also still in residence and doing double time.
• It was the curse of the last week in the RV: three wet beds (all different children--moving is stressful) and a cat barf in the middle of our bed. Every time I hoped that it would be the last time dragging our laundry to the lodge, behold, there was more laundry. What I am really enjoying in the new house: yes! the washer and dryer!

Reunited with my ginormous wok!

• I put three pizzas in the oven at the same time Friday night. I was drunk with power.
• When you can't get a massive dresser up the twisty stairs, you turn it into a hutch for the kitchen...which really needed more cabinet space anyway. But then you laugh about how you needed more cabinet space when you've spent the last year and a half in an RV.

I have since fixed that drawer...

• Unpacking a storage unit that you didn't really pack leads to lots of excitement and surprises. There were things that I had totally forgotten about, and then things missing the I expected to see (vacuum cleaner and waffle iron, I'm looking at you...except not).
• It's the little joys: like finding out that the bunk beds you ordered for the boys come with the drawers already assembled, so you don't have to do that part, and having kids who don't mind helping you screw in hidden cams, and taking the kids for a short walk in the woods without having to leave the neighborhood, and Littles and Tiny agreeing to skip the majority of the Frodo/Sam parts when rewatching Return of the King late at night in bed with popcorn.

We emerged with only one tick,
so we'll take that as a win.

• The best thing about this move has been moving with a couple of our favorite families and moving to one of our all-time favorites (even if they're leaving us at the end of the month). It's made it so much less emotionally draining, knowing that I didn't leave behind our entire support system like we normally do. When I say that's the best thing, I mean that it's even better than moving into a house from the RV, and so that tells you something.
• Some things are worth time and effort. It's good to figure out what those things are on the front end.

Hanging all those pictures in a grid pattern is somehow worth it.

• Sometimes Amazon sends you the wrong item and you unpack 80% of the box before you realize that it's definitely a twin and trundle and not a twin over twin bunk bed. This can ruin your day, or you can take a deep breath, resist the urge to slam your head against the wall repeatedly, and do your best to Tetris the pieces back in the box so it can be returned. You will then spend the rest of the next 48 hours trying to explain to the three year old why her bed isn't set up yet. Dark chocolate will help. And this is still only a blip in the radar.
• Setting up a house with the guy you've been married to for a dozen years is way easier than setting up a house with the guy you've been married to for only a handful of months. Even if said guy has to do a quick run up to Boston the week you move in. This is just a fact. However, he still doesn't appreciate when I offer to race him to see who can get a nightstand put together first.
• Want to be a real adult: go buy blinds. I have now reached new levels.

Behold our fancy sitting room.
Also, behold those blinds I bought. 
If you can see them because I pull them up the second
I get out of bed.

• Real excitement means a water leak through the ceiling your first night in a new house. 
• When you've lost both wheels on the front of your piano, you can prop it on your husband's International Law book and your Norton's Short Fiction.
• This is not move related but Rosie told me the other day that when she turns into a baby, she will not like bananas. Just thought you should know.

Pets make moving better.

• There is something really satisfying about drinking a cold glass bottled coke out of a wine glass after a hard day of work. There is something less satisfying about lying in bed with your eyes glued open because you can't sleep from the caffeine because YOU ARE OLD.
• Necessity is the mother of invention. I learn this every move. Also, just because you assure your husband that there is a printer in the storage unit (and you are right) doesn't mean that the printer actually still works (so in the long term, he is also right). Not sure how those two things are related.

It's amazing: I can walk around this bed without stubbing my toes!

And now, having gotten myself back on the blogging bandwagon, I'm going to throw some pictures in this thing, and be done. The kids are up and needing breakfast, and today is Sunday, my last day to secure house plants while the Man is still out of town and can't stop me, and also a day to rest and say thank you and not put together any furniture or unpack any boxes or clean away any dust or cobwebs. Also, I realize that this post is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to our move and the last two months, but this is about all the emotional energy I have left to write so...for now, it is enough.

We are happy to be home.

We Like to Move It

It's that time of year: the time when my favorite neighbors have already packed up and moved out and I proceed to start freaking out about our own move. The time when the Man goes into planning hyperdrive, and I start purging everything in sight. The time when the kids decide to immediately trash whatever it is that I've just cleaned and I proceed to lose my ever-loving-mind. The time when I realize that somehow, even though we live in an RV, we have amassed a ridiculous amount of stuff (most of it hiding in Bee's bed) including but not limited to four (count them: four) coolers, dozens of books, a slab of marble (why?), at least ten pairs of shoes that no longer fit anyone (at least right now), an outdoor table with four mismatched chairs (one of them missing an arm), a self-made paver patio, and a garden (no clue how we're getting rid of that).

These are the children I'm driving crazy.
Or they're driving me crazy.
One of those things.

These days people like to ask me questions about how our move plans are going, and I laugh and I laugh and I laugh...until they start to back away slowly while surreptitiously calling 911 so that the cops can come get me and hand me over to someone capable of putting me in a straight jacket and a room with white padded walls. I thought we couldn't top the logistical challenges of moving during Christmas and birthday week--I was wrong. I thought doing a move while the Man finished out his last TDY was upping my game sufficiently--it was merely preparing me for this. I thought many things that were probably wrong, but I will say this (and pray I'm not jinxing us): at least I'm not pregnant this time.

Potentially enough children already this move.

Why, you ask (or don't--if you've already talked to me lately), is this move so logistically complicated? One: Corona. Moving on. Two: we don't have a house lined up yet because pet policies no longer work in our favor evidently (someone call PETA) and finding housing so near DC during a pandemic is a pain in the tush. Three: we're still trying to off load the RV on some unsuspecting adventurer (again, this is harder to do during "these uncertain times"). Four: we have a storage unit will 75% of our crap (it was 90% of our crap before we started accumulating the aforementioned items) that is two hours away from us, a storage unit that my husband can't take stuff to because it's out of county and coughCOVID-19travelbancoughcough.

I'm sensing a theme.

Guess who's not bothered by coronavirus or moving?
That's right: the bears.

Anyway, as I've pointed out to those who have asked, yes, logistically, this move has not been my favorite, BUT, all joking aside, we are doing alright. One of the good things about this being our seventh(ish) move is that I know from previous experience a few things.

I look at Trigger's happy face, and it makes me happy too.
He's not happy right now though because
the Man is forcing pills down him for an upset stomach.
I've cleaned up enough dog barf this week.

The first thing I know is that God has always provided a home for us. Sometimes it is a very nice house with a lovely view. Sometimes it is a well worn older house with permanent spider webs between the storm windows. This last time it was an RV. Still a roof over our heads, beds to sleep in, and more than enough for which to say thank you.

This child is never bothered by anything.
Except by me throwing away any paper she has ever touched
with a pen or pencil. Ever. Even as a scribble.

The second thing I know is that all the move details will come together and everything will get done. It may not get done my way, and it may not get done on my time line, but it will (emphasis: WILL) get done. So I can stress out about it or I can do what I can do, take deep breaths where I need to take breaths, drink the coffee, eat the chocolate, and wait it out.

Did I mention we were also given a porch for the RV?
Which I love, but definitely one more thing that will have to vacate the premises.

Third, these last few weeks are precious time to make those last memories, enjoy friends who have blessed us, and make sure we say goodbye well--and if I let the freak out run the show, I miss out on that. And that hurts more people than just myself.

This, right here, I'm going to miss.

So, with those three things in mind, I'm sleeping just fine at night. And trying not to spend the next five and a half weeks driving everyone around me nuts. And continuing to enjoy where we are now for as long as we are here. But if anyone needs a well-loved fifth wheel, I know someone who's selling. And the sooner you buy it from us, the saner I'll be.

Books on Quarantine

This week, finally succumbing to the insanity that is social isolation, I accidentally lit my hair on fire.

First off, I'm fine, the kids are fine, the RV didn't burn to the ground (which, unfortunately, now means that we actually have to sell it), and I'm not bald. Yet. It took me a couple days of hysterical laughter before I realized that those options were all things I should've been legitimately worried about.

Second, yes, I am now in rather desperate need of a hair cut, so if you know any rule breaking, bandit hair stylists willing to wield a pair of scissors and risk their lives to COVID-19, let me know.

Obviously, I still have some hair and many children attached.

I also accidentally ate cat food, but that's another story, and completely unnecessary at this time (and at all times). But speaking of stories, let's talk books! (Bonus points for that segue.)

I have--naturally--been doing a lot of reading during this time, thanks, in large part, to our online library (whoever came up with the idea of online libraries has my eternal gratitude) and the fact that I stocked up on books the literal day that our library closed for the pandemic. Our library has currently reopened for at the door pick ups of hold items, which has brought additional joy and reading material (that was redundant) into our home.

One of the great things about not being able to browse through the library is that I get to be more purposeful in what books I bring home for the kids. I am systematically working through lists of "greatest picture books for kids" or "what books should you read before twelve" and ensuring that there are no huge gaps of classic literature that the kids haven't been exposed to. The other great thing about not being able to browse through the library is that my kids come home with fewer junk books. Hurray for that.

At any rate, (drum roll, please), some books that you too can request from your library, if you are lucky enough to have a library that still lets you pick up happiness in the form of a book! (If not, online book stores would love your business, and your book shelves will thank you even if your bank account does not. Your therapist may thank you too because reading makes people happy and reading children are less likely to drive you insane.)

First up, the kids and I just finished the audiobooks of the Gregor the Overlander series by Suzanne Collins read by Paul Boehmer. I'll be honest and say that I didn't think I was going to love them as much as I did. But, oh, I did. There was laughter, yelling at the car stereo, and even tears as we drove and listened. My husband thinks I'm insane. The kids love me forever for picking this series. My eldest son got banned from the internet after googling the ending halfway through book five. All these things are true. The story begins when a young boy falls through a grate in his laundry room and discovers an entire underground world full of strange people, huge animals, and imminent death. Mad props to Paul Boehmer for his reading. It's up there with my favorite audiobooks of all time, Bud, Not Buddy (read by James Avery) and The Saturdays (read by Pamela Dillman). Any time I think that I couldn't have read it out loud better myself, it's a win for us.

Speaking of books that I read out loud, the kids and I just finished the six book series The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place. When a book can combine literature, geography, and Latin references (and even more) with a handful of snark, a good dash of quirk, and a mixed bag of ridiculous characters, my children are all on board. Now to get them to stop howling like wolves. I loved these books on their own, but they were fantastic for how often they underscored what we were learning in school. I cannot count the number of times the kids or I would say, "That's just like what we learned today!" And they also got the kids to sit and listen to me read aloud "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", "The Wreck of the Hesperus", and several other epic poems. If you'd like to read about children raised by wolves, ancient family curses, and a governess just as plucky but definitely funnier than Jane Eyre, pick these up. If you read them with your kids, they may start bellowing "DO SVIDANIYA" at opportune times, and strangers will think you are awesome for teaching your kids Russian.

Carpet burn bindis happen when you trip on your sister.

On the "teaching the twins to read" front, Bruiser and Bee are making some real progress tackling books of their own. Millions of Cats was a huge hit with Bee--she loved the repeated refrain of "hundreds of cats, thousands of cats, millions and billions and trillions of cats"--and Bruiser had a great time reading about his literary doppelgänger in No, David (which I think may have visited the blog back when Littles was, well, little). I regretted reading No, David with Bruiser as he quite emphatically informed me that the mom sounded just like me, but if the shoe fits, let us, by all means, wear it. Especially as some of us have large feet and can't fit in just any shoe.

The resemblance is only marred by all Bruiser's Corona-hair.

Twinkle, meanwhile, is determined that she too is reading and will pick books at random and make up whatever she wants them to say while forming the words very slowly so as to imitate the twins. Yesterday she read the acknowledgements page in The Jesus Storybook Bible which evidently says, "The people are going to sleep where they are going to say something." I finally kicked her out of the living room as her "reading" was distracting Bruiser, who was actually trying to read for real, and she returned twenty minutes later, informing me that she had read "every word" in her Storybook Bible. Child has no limits.

Reading is for everyone. Reading is for everywhere.

As to the Bigs, Tiny has finally admitted that I choose good books for him (took him eight years before he realized that I pick better than he does). He plowed through The Hobbit at the end of the school year and is now tackling The Lord of the Rings and talking me into movie nights on week days. Since we are done with school (other than the twins who are destined to do math and reading with me until I die or they are reading fluently) and since his freckles are the most beautiful thing in my world, last night we watched the first half of The Two Towers, and I didn't even feel guilty about it. He also blew through Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in two hours and is begging me to get Through the Looking Glass for him next.

I'm sorry for two pictures of Twinkle, but she's so darn cute.
Also, the Bigs don't like me to take pictures of them any more.

Littles, meanwhile, has reached the apex of nerdiness and is reading The Silmarillion--something I have never even done (don't revoke my nerd card, please, I need it or I'll have an identity crisis). My favorite book he's read lately though has to be The Faithful Spy by John Hendrix, a graphic novel about Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Beautifully done, there is so much to learn and so much to challenge thinking, I'd strongly suggest it for any history or theology lovers. I'm so glad Littles read it--and glad I did too.

Reading makes you smart, creative, AND strong.

Other than The Faithful Spy--and a bunch of fluff novels that I won't recommend but that keep me entertained while the kids are doing things I don't want to know about--my favorite novel from the last month or so was What the Night Sings by Vesper Stamper. Also set during WWII, it is beautiful, poignant, and full of hope. It might have also made me want to adopt certain Jewish traditions in our home like the lighting of Shabbat candles--but candles and I haven't been on good terms lately, so I may wait on that one.

I also really appreciated Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth's Adorned. If you're looking for a nonfiction read that will challenge you to think through the little choices you are making in your day-to-day as well as how you can encourage and learn from other women, this might be it for you. I wrote down so many quotes, and I'm still pondering what I learned.

Keep an eye out for Twinkle who likes to steal the very
expensive bookmark you were using (your phone) and
replace it with a leaky water bottle.

One more, my favorite fantasy novel from the last few weeks would have to be The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia A. McKillip. I feel like I should've read this one a long time ago, but didn't, but I loved reading it as an adult. The language is so rich, and McKillip doesn't take short cuts or weaken the power of the story but taking easy outs. I'd put it on my list of classic fantasy books that every fantasy lover should read.

There are so many wonderful books out there, so I hope you are getting to enjoy at least a few of them while you're home a little bit more. One of the best ways to enjoy our current season of social isolation is to surround ourselves with fictional (and sometimes historical) characters who get to live lives that we could never experience for ourselves (especially while we're staying home). Often, this helps us see our own life circumstances in completely new ways or just helps us to use our time wisely to learn and grow so that when we go back into the world, we come with something new to share. And picking up a book is always a better choice than, say, lighting one's hair on fire or eating cat food...so there's that.

If our family isn't reading, this is a perfectly acceptable reality.

Pier Pilings

The beach has been such a wonderful haven for us this year as we have occasionally needed to escape the confines of the RV to find beauty and breathing room, and never more so than these last few weeks of social isolation. I have always loved the ocean--really, any form of water, even when it's falling out of the sky--and it has always helped me keep my sanity and perspective. Well, as much as that's possible.

This last week, we've been parking ourselves down along the shoreline where an old pier juts out. I used to take the kids to this pier before the hurricane. It was about half a mile from our neighborhood beach, so we'd walk along the shore and then out along its creaking beams until the kids could sit at the end with their legs hanging free over the water while I tried not to have a heart attack that one of them was going to fall off or be eaten by a shark that decided to unexpectedly lunge out of the water. Sometimes while we were there (in between the heart palpitations and panic), I would read out loud to them from whatever book we were enjoying at the time, mostly Prince Caspian and The Just So Stories, if I'm remembering right.

Now, there is no way to walk out on the pier as all the boards were torn loose and flung to kingdom come in a Cat 5 storm. But the bones of the structure still stand and have turned a beautiful sea green that I'm noticing for the first time, now that I'm not so busy walking on it (and trying to keep the kids from falling off of it). The pilings weathered the storm, and it softened and strengthened and stained them a deep and vibrant hue. And they are beautiful, if I can slow down long enough to look at them, and the truth of what they show me is beautiful.

We go to the sea because it is bigger than us. It reminds us that we are small and insignificant and a good storm sweeping down off its surface can do away with us in a moment. And we go to the sea because it is beautiful, and we need the beauty to give us hope and perspective and joy when the struggle threatens to hold us below the surface until we drown. And we go to the sea for air, for deep breaths that fill our lungs and rush out of them full of the tang of salt and water and life.

But now I also ask myself, are my pilings sunk deep into what is solid so that, no matter the storms that come, I can be softened and strengthened and stained with vivid shades of light and water? I want my foundation to be sturdy enough that I'm not blown off by the slightest breeze or even by a category five hurricane, by a cough and a cold or by a global pandemic, by a change in my schedule or a cross country move. And only then do I have the opportunity to be changed for the better by the wind and the waves that wash over me.

Easter Meditation

Easter morning I went for a prayer walk/jog, just trying to catch the sunrise. The half moon held court, fully visible high above my head, but the sun persistently hid behind a thick fleece of clouds that hovered low on the horizon. I pointed my face resolutely towards the east and waited, taking in the slow splash of the surf on the shore, thinking and praying.

Many times we go through life feeling as if the face of Jesus is shrouded in clouds. He feels distant and obscured, and sometimes we despair of seeing his face and begin to doubt his presence. So as I waited for the sunrise, I thought about the obvious similarities, especially with the significance of the day.

As I waited on the sun to rise into my line of sight, I was reminded that the Son has risen even though sometimes it seems the clouds are hiding his face from me. In those moments, what do I choose? To give up and go home? I hope not. I want to choose to wait, pointing my face in the right direction even when all I see are smudges of light that filter through thick clouds. I want to wait and not give up.

And when, while in the fog, I feel discouragement, I look at those of you who, much like the moon, are still reflecting his light. That encourages me. It helps me to keep going. You are a reminder that though my present circumstantial atmosphere may block my view of Christ, his reality is no more dependent on my blue skies than the sun's. And while I wait for the clouds to clear, I can see his presence in your faces. I can hear his truth in your words. I can sense his warmth in your actions. This is one of the reasons we need the church, because while Jesus never leaves or forsakes, there are seasons when it is harder to see his face than others, and if we surround ourselves with others who are looking to him, often we get glimpses of his radiance reflected in their lives, glimpses that we so desperately need.

Easter morning, the clouds cleared for a moment and the sun peaked through. I said thank you for the clouds that made the sun's rays even more brilliant and breath taking, but I also tried to remind myself that, while sometimes the clouds seem to last forever, they will always--eventually--be burned away by the heat of the sun. And while we wait for that day, we point ourselves in the right direction, remind ourselves of what is true, look around at the lovely moons that reflect his radiance, and wait for a break in the clouds.