In Just One Month…

It is crazy to think that in just one month from today, this little baby boy could make his arrival into the world. It’s especially crazy since just a little over a year ago, I was having surgery so that I could have the chance of having another baby.  Even with the successful surgery and the doctor saying everything looked good, we still had our doubts about whether baby #2 would ever happen as we headed into the summer months of 2012. After all, it had been 20 months of trying.

But here we are.

This pregnancy has been much harder than the first. I know this is totally normal. But sometimes I have wondered how much of it is the actual pregnancy, or if it’s the circumstances we’ve experienced in our lives for the past eight months (and before) that have made it so much more difficult. Either way, as I head into the final stretch (both figuratively and literally, unfortunately for my poor belly), I wanted to reflect on a few things from the past several months.

·      Perseverance and waiting has made us stronger: Persevering through some hard moments in Costa Rica as well as waiting for this baby has changed Joe and me. I wrote about how the risk of moving to CR was worth it, which it was, but also the waiting for this baby has been worth it, even though it was not our choice, not our plan.  I still struggle with questioning the timing of it all. (I have to openly and embarrassingly admit I still have moments of sadness that my kids will be 4 years apart, and that I will be that much older if we decide to try for a third, and that a career of any kind is put on the back burner, at least for now…  and then I am ashamed because I know people who can’t have biological children at all, or who have a million other struggles so much bigger than mine, and so then I get my thoughts in order and start being grateful instead of doing the whole disgusting “if only” thing in my head…). But this experience has sculpted me and refined me in ways that only happen when you are in a difficult season, and I am constantly reminded of this verse out of Romans 5:

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.  Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

·      Don’t give up hope.  I love how in the verse above, Paul talks about how suffering eventually produces hope. I don’t know exactly how it all works, to be honest. What I do understand is that I can always have hope in Jesus, in his unfathomable love for me, no matter what the circumstance or season of my life is.  We may not understand God’s timing or exact purpose in a certain situation in our life, but we can always have hope. Hope is the thing with feathers, Emily Dickenson writes.  Which for me means hope feels light, in the midst of heavy circumstances. More importantly, God’s hope, love, and grace is light and has carried me through these past months, especially in the midst of meltdowns and breakdowns!

·      This Too Shall Pass: I think this is probably every mother’s mantra at some point. Heck, every human’s mantra. At least it should be. I have to constantly remind myself that any given moment will pass eventually. This holds true for the excruciatingly difficult ones as well as the bursting-with-joy ones. Which means we need to hold steady during the storms, knowing the calm will return eventually, and fully embrace the moments of glorious joy, knowing that, “You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes” (James), and “Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath” (Job) and “Man is like a breath; his days are like a fleeting shadow.” (Psalmist)

So as this pregnancy seems to drag on and on, and the feeling of being unsettled and in transition seems to be lasting forever, and becoming an insomniac seems to be my newest pastime, I have to constantly remind myself of these truths. “I’m getting stronger through all this! Don’t give up hope – the end is near! This too will pass!”

And best of all, I get to hear God tell me in my weakest moments, “I love you still. Even though. Even if.” And I get to rest in his embrace.

Sometimes You Just Need to Curl Up and Cry

A few weeks ago I wrote about how taking the risk of moving to Costa Rica was totally worth it and that we will never regret it, even though it turned out differently than anticipated.

That reality is still completely true. But… but. It doesn’t mean this transition of moving back has been easy. Of course moving is never easy though.

As it turns out, which is no surprise really, getting re-settled has been rather brutal. In moments at least. Brutal may be too strong of a word, but it pretty much sums up how I was feeling yesterday morning:

Boxes are everywhere still.

Toiletries are strewn across the bathroom counter.

Some clothes are hung, but I ran out of hangers so a mountain of shirts still awaits me on the floor.

Toys litter the bonus room floor.

I haven’t slept well for several nights.

At seven months pregnant, I feel as big as this suburban house I’m living in.

And then Kate comes in the closet, where I’m attempting to organize, and wants to do a dress up dance party. Right now.

Did I mention it is 7:30 a.m.?

I love dress up dance parties. I love my daughter. But at that very moment, everything was just too much and suddenly I felt overwhelmingly exhausted. (Been feeling that way a lot lately!)

I wanted to crawl back in bed, curl up, and pretend that none of this ever happened. That Costa Rica never happened, that moving from my cozy Seattle house and settling in the suburbs in Washougal, WA never happened, that being completely unsettled just two months before having another baby never happened…

And besides wanting to pretend all that, I wished that my daughter would just go away and entertain herself and stop talking.

So, what did I do? Curled up in bed. And cried. And I let myself feel all of it. Even if it was just for five minutes, I needed to allow myself to feel it.

And this has been the struggle lately for me. For us. How do we allow ourselves to face the reality of our lives, the struggle, the disappointment, the longings, the pain –  how do we acknowledge its existence – but not wallow in? Not get so sucked in that we slowly become critical, irritable, frustrated, and depressed people? How do we enter into these more difficult emotions so that we’re not unhealthily repressing them, but not get stuck there?

I think a lot could be said and written about this topic. In fact, a lot has been said, and since I am no psychologist or expert in this area, I even hesitated to write about it. So many other people have eloquently expressed thoughts and ideas about what I’ll call “life’s struggles”, and so many others have far more compelling circumstances from which to write, that it almost seems silly to add anything to the conversation. (In fact, most of what has been on my mind lately has been wonderfully articulated in our former pastor’s blog here, and my friend Lynnea’s blog here. I should just stop typing now and let you read those blogs. Please do - you won't regret it.)

But for now, I will add my own two cents, because even though I am not a gifted pastor of a big church, or am not a breast cancer survivor, most of you aren’t either. However, we all experience difficult struggles and emotions, whether they last for just moments or days, or last for a much longer season of life. Our struggles can be simple, everyday frustrations, or something much more difficult to endure, like a serious illness or death in the family. Either way, suffering is part of the human experience.

So for now, I will simply say this: the one thing I’ve learned about being sad, stressed, confused, exhausted, doubtful, angry, depressed or _______________, (write in your chosen emotion/situation) is: don’t repress it.  As Americans, we have this culture of “pulling yourself up by your boot straps” and an attitude of “onward and upward”. These are admirable traits. But many times, we can’t get there right away. And it’s unhealthy to do so. It’s unhealthy to pretend that “everything is just fine” when really, it’s not. Because as you acknowledge the true place you are in, and even allow yourself to curl up and cry, you then gain strength to get up again and move forward in your day.  In your life. I don’t understand exactly why this works. But I just know it does. And I know it feels a heck of a lot better than pushing those emotions to the bottom of my heart.

I am still working on this balance of not repressing the ‘hard stuff’ while not becoming Miss Negative Nancy. I don’t have it all figured out. But I find solace, as well as guidance, in reading the Psalms, where the juxtaposition of lamenting hard times and then praising the Lord is perfectly expressed.

From Psalm 142, a psalm of David

I cry aloud to the Lord;

I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.

I pour out my complaint before him;

Before him I tell my trouble.

When my spirit grows faint within me,

It is you who know my way…

And from Psalm 146, also of David

Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord, O my soul.

I will praise the Lord all my life;

I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.

I believe that one big clue to this balance of authentically acknowledging our struggles but not getting stuck in a downward spiral of self-pity can be found in the Psalms (as well as in many parts of the Bible): When we bring all of who we are and what we feel before God, then he will see us through it. God can handle all of our emotions. He is not scared of our anger or doubt or frustration or grief.

If shepherds and kings can ‘cry aloud to the Lord’ then so can we.

Rocking Chair Moment #2: Less is More

As we prepare to leave North Carolina and head back to the Northwest on Tuesday, we are doing one final round of Extreme Packing.

Extreme = 6 huge duffels, each weighing 50 pounds, + maximum number of carry-ons per person stuffed to the brim + one ‘I’m-so-sick-of-this-flying-business’ cat.

Needless to say, we are tired of this extreme packing.

So as we sort through our stuff once more, leaving at least one suitcase-full’s worth of junk here for my parents to bring us later, I am reminded of something else I’ve learned from this whole experience, or what I’ll call another “Rocking Chair Moment”: Less is More. (If you don’t know what I mean by Rocking Chair Moment, you can glance back at my previous post.)

I know that this current state of packing and unpacking and sorting and organizing is unique and will not always be our reality. (Thank goodness it ends very soon.) But it’s been enough of a reality for the past year and a half that it has really gotten me thinking about a more minimalist lifestyle.  I have been reading a blog called Becoming Minimalist off and on for a while now and in general have been intrigued by this lifestyle for a few years.  But being intrigued is different than putting it into practice and frankly, I can be a bit of a pack rack at times. And like anyone else, I often think I “need” more, when really I am confusing need with want, and even when I admit it is a want, it’s easy to get carried away and caught up in wanting this and then wanting that and then ultimately never being satisfied with what you do have.

But after an international move, where we had to fit the essentials into a limited number of bags (not to mention all the boxes and furniture you have stored back at home), you can’t help but see the abundance and even the excess of what you own already. The packing, repacking, and weighing process just smacks you in the face and you really start to SEE your belongings in a different way because each item is taking up space, weight, and most importantly, your time.

So as we set up our new home in a little over a week, we are really going to make a conscious effort to buy less and live more simply. Because by owning less I will spend less time organizing and caring for my stuff, which in turn will give me more time to enjoy the things in life that are truly important.

And so when I’m 90 in my rocking chair, looking back on my life, less will be more in that I will have hopefully spent more time:

·      Hanging out with my friends and family

At Tybee Island, GA right after Christmas.

·      Practicing hobbies I love like painting, gardening, reading, writing, and even more recently cooking.

·      Staying active and healthy

Owning and buying less will also mean that I will

·      Worry and stress less

·      Have the opportunity to practice contentment

·      More often repurpose or create things I *need* (or want) for our home instead of buying the cheap, made in China junk from the store

·      Have more time, energy, and money to give away to people who really need it

Of course, these are all my ideals and it will be a work in process.

I will continue to be tempted by the newest Pottery Barn catalog or the latest styles in In Style magazine. (Wanting or even buying these things, of course, are by no means bad – everything in moderation, right? I’m just talking about my own propensity to get too caught up in consumerism – I buy a skirt and then I need a new shirt to go with it and then I realize my boots don’t quite ‘go’ with it and so I want new boots and then I want…)

But what matters are the small steps. So I will start slow and go step by step. Because I know at the end of my life when I’m looking back on my years, I will not care about how much stuff I owned. 

Rocking Chair Moment #1

Just a couple weeks ago, my grandmother celebrated her 90^th birthday. We were lucky enough to be able to celebrate with her this year: she lives in Grants Pass, OR close to my aunt, and we were in the Portland area, so my aunt drove her up to Eugene and we drove down from Portland, meeting half-way for a birthday luncheon. My parents, brother, and his girlfriend even flew out for the special occasion from the east coast so the whole family was there, and we all had a lovely time together.

Turning 90 is a pretty big deal. By this age, you are definitely having “rocking chair moments”.  My mom uses this term sometimes when she talks about getting older - just picture an elderly person sitting in their rocking chair on their front porch (a very Southern image, I know), thinking back on their life – their triumphs and successes and their heartaches and regrets. It is the time in one’s life where you spend a good part of your day sitting and thinking instead of running around and doing. 

And so in our family, we use the term “rocking chair moment” to mean this: at a good old age, when you’re sittin’ in your rocking chair on your front porch, perhaps reflecting on your life, what are you going to be proud of? What are you going to regret? It’s a way of thinking into the future enough in order to weigh and measure what you are doing now. Is this really important? Does this really matter?

So, seeing my grandma hit this milestone birthday made me start thinking about my own rocking chair moments, especially as we continue to reflect on our time in Costa Rica this past year.  We’ve been back in the States a little over a month now (Joe is in Costa Rica now actually, tying up a few last things) and so we’ve had some time to let things sink in a little and reflect on the question: what really matters?

I’ve come up with a few things so far (nothing new or earth shattering, of course, but just my own personal thought process on what really matters in life). I’ll start with this one, and share others in future posts:

1.    Taking bold (healthy) risks are worth it.

We made the decision to move to Costa Rica thinking we would be there for at least three years. It turned out to be only 14 months. It was a lot of work, energy, and emotional stress to move there and move back so soon. But do we regret it? Not one bit. Joe always is saying when making a decision, “What’s the worst-case scenario?” And if the worst case isn’t that bad, then it’s worth the risk. Now of course, a truly “worst-case scenario” didn’t happen to us when in Costa Rica (there are people across the globe who risk their lives to serve others in the name of Christ), but how everything ‘went down’ was not expected, not fun, not easy – it was pretty much the opposite of what we envisioned our work might be. So in a general sense, it was a worst-case scenario. We sold our cars, rented our house, quit our jobs, and moved to another country to try and help an organization, and just 14 months later, we’re back.  But despite the hassle and heartbreak, instead of being fearful of ever making a bold move again (literally or figuratively), we both feel empowered by our experience. After all, the worst happened, and we are only stronger for it.

So when/if I’m 90, having a rocking chair moment, I certainly will look back on our time in CR with pride, not regret.

The risk was worth it.

A Special Souvenir

Happy Holidays everyone! I hope everyone had a marvelous Christmas. We sure enjoyed celebrating Christmas with my family here in North Carolina (we even got to see my brother and his girlfriend, who drove down from D.C.), and we will have Christmas 2.0 with Joe's family on New Year's Eve.

But before I share some photos of our festivities from the last two weeks, I have to tell one more crazy insect story with you.

I mean, you think that now that we are d.o.n.e. living in Costa Rica we would be d.o.n.e. with insect infestations or terrifying tarantulas or anything of the sort.

Not so.

On Wednesday, I got a day-late Christmas present when I opened up a box I had packed in September when we came to NC...

The contents of the box were: linens, frames, an old cloth purse, and one certain African wooden decorative bowl that my dad had brought back for us from Botswana in August.

As I was unpacking the box, (to put the contents into a duffel bag that will be taken back to Portland on Monday - yes, it was another fun day of packing! My new favorite pastime!), I noticed several holes in the decorative wooden bowl. Very precise oval shaped holes that were not previously there. It seemed that the bowl was being turned into a colander. It was mighty suspicious. A worm? A termite? Nothing else in the box looked affected.

Then, when I got to the bottom of the box, there was a giant pile of sawdust. Now the evidence of a termite was pretty clear and I was immediately grossed out. I mean, can't I get a break from gross insects in my life? I am in North Carolina now, in the dead of winter, and the temperature is going down to the 20s every night. I thought I was FREE!!!

Fast forward to last night when I went out to the garage, where my mom had put the punctured bowl, to show my dad what had become of his souvenir.  I picked up the bowl, and right in my face were two little brown termites poking their sick little heads out of the holes! Of course, when I dropped the bowl, they hunkered back down, so I couldn't do a full inspection. But I swear I saw two brown thingys in the holes!!

Regardless, I was FULLY grossed out this time. My dad came to the rescue with a can of WD40 or something (we had no Raid) and sprayed the crap out of the bowl.

Unbelievable.

Hopefully this will be the last insect drama for quite awhile...

A Special Souvenir

The scene in the garage.

Look closely for oval-shaped holes.

A once pretty bowl.

Termite killing.

The leftovers: sawdust, and the bowl tightly wrapped in a bag.

Christmas Fun

Kate and reindeer at tree farm.

A beautiful tree farm in Appalachia.

Shopping

"Cleaning a stump"

The fam.

Decorating with Grandmama.

Making a gingerbread house.

Getting some inspiration at a little gingerbread house display downtown.

Christmas morning JOY.

This is how the tree decorating ended looking: a cluster of ornaments right where Kate could reach. We never changed it.

The finished house.

One More Day

We have one more day here in Costa Rica, before our big, rather unexpected, move back “home”. (More on where “home” will be below.)

It has been a whirlwind 14 months of living here, and although we didn’t plan to leave so soon, (read a little about why we made this decision here and here, if you haven’t read the Ministry Updates already) it’s amazing what lessons were crammed into this last year or so that our family will take with us. We have learned more about

patience,

perseverance,

planning,

community,

communication,

leadership,

vision,

and most recently, self-control,

than we ever could have if we had decided not to come. Even though we leave disappointed in many ways, and even disheartened, we also are deeply aware of God’s greater plan and vision for our life. As our pastor Richard Dahlstrom always says, “God is writing a story in your life that you could never write on your own.” That statement has never rang truer in our lives than now. (Side note: Check out Richard’s amazing blog here; more often than not his words resonate so deeply with me that I am moved to tears. Not to be melodramatic or anything… He’s just had a very profound impact on our lives.)

So we are moving forward, trusting in His story, much like we did when we first decided to move to Costa Rica. And truthfully, we are pretty excited for this next phase of our life!

Here’s what this next phase will look like, or at least what the next few months entail:

We will first be traveling to North Carolina, where my dear parents reside in the little town of Waynesville (that’s in the Appalachian mountains, in Western North Carolina, for those of you unfamiliar with the geography of the east coast).

We will celebrate Christmas there and then travel down to Savannah, GA for a few days.

The backyard of the Marsh House in Savannah.

From Savannah, we have a quick trip out to the Northwest, where we’ll be seeing friends and family in the Portland, Seattle, and even Eugene area (my grandmother is turning 90 in January, so we’ll be celebrating with her!).

Then it’s back to NC for a few more weeks (the original plan was for us to fly back to San Jose, CR from there on January 15^th – yep we already have tickets – but with the exception of Joe going back to pick up a few things, that won’t be happening for Kate or me).

And after another restful month at my mom’s house, we will all fly back to the Portland area in mid-February, where we will crash at Joe’s parents’ house while looking for a place to rent in good ol’ Washougal, WA (or somewhere close by). 

So “home” will not be Seattle for now, and it may not even be the NW for long – we’re going there because we have family and friends and familiarity – and that’s where our insurance will cover the birth of baby boy. After that, who knows? The future is wide open.

Right now, we are focused on our very last day here. One more day to:

·      Weigh our bags one more time (I mean, we seriously have weighed each of our eight bags 18 times. “42 lbs… we can fit in 12 more pairs of underwear and these four books.”)

·      Donate a few more toys, books, or bags of food to the Project or to friends.

·      Eat whatever is left in the fridge. Lunch may be a mix of carrots, milk, wheat germ, yogurt, apples, cheese, grapefruit juice, protein powder… maybe I’ll just mix all that together in a blender.

·      Say our goodbyes one last time. Of course, this is the serious part. The hard part. But we will be mostly saying “see you later” instead of goodbye…

And then we’ll be up at 3:30 a.m. on Tuesday, on our way. So here's to one last day.

December Ministry Update

Hello Friends and Family –

In our previous Ministry Updates, we have shared with you the challenges we’ve faced in the past several months in our work at the Abraham Project. In October when we wrote last, we mentioned that we thought doors were starting to crack open but we were “taking things one step at a time; being flexible and holding our original plans loosely”.  Unfortunately, over the past month, it has become very clear that the doors are not opening for us here like we had anticipated or hoped.  Since August, we’ve been trying to discern our role here, and we’ve continued to have several meetings and conversations about fundraising for the Project. To articulate a very complicated situation in a straightforward way, we simply are not a good fit for the Abraham Project.  This reality, along with the fact that Jennie is pregnant, has lead us to make the very difficult decision to move back home much sooner than expected.  We already had tickets for December 11^th to go back to the States for the holiday season, so we will be leaving Costa Rica in about 10 days.  Jennie and Kate won’t be returning; I will come back in January to tie up everything.

We will still finish up some projects that we started, including a re-design of the current AP website, a strategic plan, and a new marketing brochure for the children’s homes.

It is difficult to understand and describe all that has happened in this past year, and it is especially challenging to have to share this news with you.  We know many of you have invested in our family and in our ministry and we don’t want to let you down. However, we know that God is sovereign and has a purpose in all of this, even though this has turned out much differently than expected. Yes, we are disappointed, but there are also immeasurable rewards and lessons that have come out of this experience that will impact the rest of our lives. We want you to know that despite the challenges, we have been incredibly blessed by our time in Costa Rica. We could not have done it without you.  We trust that as we continue to reflect on this time God will make his plan clear and continue to guide and direct us.

We are more than happy to share more of our story in person with any of you. Jennie will be maintaining the blog (www.tresriosproject.org) so you can check there for updates on how the ‘moving home’ process is going, along with more information about our next steps.

Thank you so much, as always, for your friendship, love, and support. And thank you for your grace and understanding in this difficult decision for our family. If you have been a financial supporter, we will be sending you a follow-up email soon.

Love,

Joe, Jennie, and Kate