4 days later

Our lives have been so so so very full in the last month. Brett graduated from P.A. school from Wichita State. (With the highest academic/clinical performance honor of his class, I will add). Vera turned one (but still barely weighs more than Warrick did at 3 months . . . . little squirm). We threw a big big party at our house - close to 50 people came - neighbors, friends from church, old friends. It was super. I made really super cute cake balls (which we also ate at my mom's retirement party).

But there are some difficult things too. We moved away from a town that, honestly, kind of surprisingly stole my heart. We lived in Riverside, 5 doors from the park and the Arkansas River, one door south from a housemate that LOVED my son (and kept buying him loud firetrucks) and grew to become a good friend, who was over-the-top gracious about our noise level at odd hours (note above firetrucks . . . obviously not the sole noise maker . . . enter two small but vocal children). We lived across the street from some music loving, hippy-ish fun friends who also had small children and a rockin' trampoline in the back. We lived 4 blocks from the Wichita Art Museum (don't ask me if I went, and don't ask me if I used to be an art teacher). We lived super close to Exploration place, the Keeper of the Plains, Botanica, Riverside Park, The Riverside Perk (fun little cafe and music venue). We lived a stone's throw from the finish line of the regatta's that Wichita State hosted several times a year and could see rowers on the water almost daily during the warmer months. We had the world's best YMCA's. Seriously. Imagine LifeTime Fitness without being pretentious, expensive or meat market-ish. An incredible place for families to be active. I LOVED my YMCA. And, truthfully, it was often the only time I had during the week to get help with my kids (except in the evenings from my wonderful husband).

So, yeah . . . . I already miss it.

But here's where I was originally going with this post. Last Thursday we were scheduled to move to Joplin MO, where Brett would do his final rotation before starting his job in CHanute. We paid the last week's rent for the college girls who were in our apt, so they would move out a week early. Saturday and Sunday, the 21st and 22nd. Now . . . we all know what horrible event took place in Joplin last Sunday. Unbelievable. After watching footage and then hearing that the tornado touched down at 20th and Connecticut, we realized that this might actually affect our future a little. Certainly not at all like those who lost family and friends and home in such a brutal, undignified finish, but I think because we were to move there, we felt a little more of an investment in it.

We confirmed on Tuesday that our apt. had in fact been completely obliterated. My conversation with the office manager was sobering, heavy, surreal. Watching her tenants carry their dead children out of the rubbish. Hearing stories of other children being sucked out windows. Climbing through precarious ruins in search of emergency contacts in an effort to locate her tenants . . . were they with family? Hopefully? Nightmarish walks into the unrecognizable neighborhood to see the dead strewn about like trash in the parking lot. How horrible. We cried and prayed together, and I could tell from her response that she knew Jesus. I'm so glad she does . . . what hope would you have if you didn't have Jesus?

At week's end, we are settled generously and comfortably in Brett's mom's house in Independence KS. She has cleared the entire upstairs so we can live with her for the summer, with closets and drawers and a king sized bed and two full bathrooms. Things we've never had as a family. A dish washer! A huge backyard! A wonderful pool and park and zoo across the street. Access to a health and fitness facility. And on and on. So grateful. So very very grateful that the Lord chose to spare us from the tragedy that Joplin is still enduring.

Anyway, that's us up to date. Didn't even get into how cute our kids are right now. Or how Vera chipped 3 of her 6 teeth in Fayetteville on AJ and Sarah's bathtub. Or my mom's retirement party. OR MY SISTER GETTING TO COME HOME FOR A WEEK!!!!!!!!! Hallelujah. That was amazing. We got our noses pierced together and got to spend serious quality time during our weekend trip to Fayetteville. I love her. It's pretty incredible to have her for my sister - for her challenging life to make me re-evaluate. Her easy laugh, her generosity, her goofiness that just won't go away, darnit!... her loving my kids, her support and interest in my life and in the things that matter most. Being known well and still loved well. What a gift....... I am honored. And then getting to see my dear old friend Erin. Another one who knows me well and still loves me well. A woman about to give birth to her 3rd son. Wowee.

So, four days later, was when we were to move to Joplin. I realize that isn't really a close call, compared to the people who crawled out from under their flattened and torn homes to realize
if nothing else, they still had LIFE. That's close calling. But still . . . . makes me grateful.

Clay Center visual

"Well hello there! You wanna be my friend too?" Dinosaur Emu. I actually saw one in the wild when we lived in AU You wouldn't believe how challenging it was to get him to stand under the sign and look at me. Love my daddy Teresa let us come by and look at her animals And the cool old dam, no longer used. What a rockin' building. leftover panera sandwiches from drug rep. picnic in a tunnel us Daddy's workout

the girls

weekend getaway

We've never stayed in a hotel room as a family. With kids, I mean. I've heard it can be really tricky and I'm sure those parents are no liars. It's tricky sometimes to get our whole family to sleep in our own cozy little beds. So . . . . here's the closest thing to us staying in a hotel. Brett's doing a 4 week rotation in Clay Center ks. We went out for a visit this past weekend and had a grand old time there. Just for the record, there are 4500 people residing in the sweet little town. No McDonalds . . . not that I frequent the place, but hotcakes did sound better than the nutrient void breakfast I got at Sonic. What a bad decision. Anyway, here's the skinny on our funny sleeping situation. The student apt. is located at the back corner of a partially finished basement under the hospital. That alone is funny to me. One minute, you are in the clinic . . . unlock a door and go down lots and lots of concrete stairs and you meet . . . Some kind lisping lady in a cage surrounded by taller than normal shelves full of colorful files and files and files. And I'm serious. It was a cage. Studded for sheetrock and then instead, covered with chicken wire stuff. Smaller squares though. Small enough holes for Warrick to get his finger stuck in and cry about it. Then to top off the weird cage file lady . . . they had hung small stuffed animals all over the chicken wire. So odd. And ironic. The animals are on the outside and kind lisping lady is inside. Raw cement floors, ceiling, walls and fluorescent lights. So, one minute you're in the clinic and the next you're stuck in a weirdo movie. I thought it would be unfortunate to work in these conditions, but, of course, there are worse things. Pass through the "lunchroom", complete with brainstorming posters about creating a better workplace and lots of leftover good food from the drug reps (thank you kindly for the free panera and pizza hut pasta) and we come to Brett's apt. door. Inside, looks like a mostly regular hotel room but with hodge podge towels and sheets that some one, no doubt, kindly donated. Furnished with small fridge, sink with disposal and microwave. One very nice feature was the small room shelved full of insurance claims to Blue Cross Blue Shield and every other insurance company, and oxygen masks or something I'm not familiar with. In our case,this small room was the nursery. Vera slept like a queen in her pack and play in this little room smelling of paper and envelope sticky. Perfect. It was on the other side of the bathroom. With the exhaust fan going, we were set. Warrick slept comfortably on a blow up mattress (don't tell me kids aren't supposed to sleep on them, I already know.) Here's another funny thing. You open the "closet" door of your "hotel" to find the secret land of record keepers. SHOCKING. One is always alarmed to find another human in their closet, but here are 5 more kind ladies, none of these lisping, but all working away in the little basement office room you thought was your closet. The records team. With quick access to your hotel room. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. Try to stop your 2 1/2 year old from opening that door when you're changing clothes . . . since of course, he's made friends with these lovely women and they all think he's charming. But am I charming in my underwear? I guess it depends on who you are. And yet, another funny thing. What do you do when you are on vacation and the weather is worse than expected and your husband is working away and you have no where to go, but to play in a hospital basement? You bring matchbox cars, for one. You utilize your resources and unload the "lunchroom" drawers of their utensils and make up games with them, you push your son around on a wheely office chair. And then you let him push you. And then he pushes you so fast that you break the chair. Oops. Well . . . Brett pulled a wheel from another broken one and fixed it anyway. Then you drive to the grocery store in town, then to the John Deere and tour the machinery. We actually went the night prior when Brett was with us and climbed up into several large something or others. Sprayers, combines, big big somethings. I'm sorry, I'm not entirely ignorant about farm equipment, but mostly. And get this, the keys were in one of them. But we opted not to drive it around. Very tempting though . . . . very tempting. Utility park is a really lovely place. The Pipeliner's Wives, whoever you may be, chose a wonderful community service project by repainting the park swings and merri-go-round, everything parkish, by the way. Beautiful. Utility park also is home to the Clay Center Zoo. Interpretation: Cement and chain link cages housing wild animals smelling of urine. Now, while this sounds incredibly negative (it would be, if you were made to run in grass and climb trees and interact violently with other animals). But the positive side, is that you get to view very wild animals up very close and very personal. Arctic foxes. Deer. A bizarre assortment of birds. Wolves. Bunnies. Emu, which make the weirdest dinosaur noises, if you didn't already know. A black bear. Tiny twin goats that made friends with Warrick and let him pet them for a long time. And the highlight . . . . the monkeys. They entertained us well, and even inspired Warrick to climb fences. But, here was the grown up funny highlight. The guy that feeds the animals in the morning says, "Yeah, the mommy is the mommy of the daddy, and the daddy got one of his babies pregnant. So, we're a little worried about what this one's gonna look like - maybe five legs or some kind of deformity. " Draw that family tree. I guess it's funny, but kind of sad and gross too. So . . . a funny substitute for a vacation, but Brett and I both agreed that it was memorable and that the people of Clay Center, with great consistency are very kind and generous of spirit.

tonight

Don't tell me I'm pathetic. I already know. It doesn't matter. But . . . whatever. Here I am again.

I was reading one of my old posts tonight and realized there are some precious and funny memories I need to record before they vanish from my hazy mind.

We have become quite good friends with some neighbors, Kent and Tiffany. Our children adore them, particularly Warrick, as he is of age to really communicate and connect with people. Recently, they were over in the evening and Kent was relaxing and icing his knee, I believe, when Warrick began the go to bed routine with Mr. Kent. Piling pillows and quietly referring to him as "Kenty", he imitated what Brett does for him every night. He tucked him in and Kent played the part so very well as he lay on the heaps of pillows, two of them were pillow pet lady bugs. But then things took an interesting turn. First, Warrick carefully placed a plastic praying mantis on Kent's chest, "Here you go Kenty." So quietly, so sweetly. Then a felt pancake from their kitchen set, then he gently placed a tiger puzzle piece on Kent's forehead (all the while Kent's eyes are closed as he is sleeping for Warrick) and moved in so very close to Kent's face.

"You're a tiger." He whispers. His nose an inch from Kent's. "You're a tiger. You're a tiger." over and over and over.

It's funny as it is, but when Kent is thinking that W is just doing the nighttime routine, imitating what Brett does, he's begun to wonder now if we're subliminally training our child to become some fighting animal. We laughed really really hard.

We're in the process of keeping heads above water. Barely . . . anyone with 2 children under 3 would understand, I would think. But we really like our kids, and we still like each other. Brett will finish school in a few short weeks and we'll begin the transition again . . . . starting over, again . . . making new friends, finding a good church, getting our bearings, grieving over what's left behind . . . again. It's hard.

And it's harder still when you're not exactly excited about where you're headed. Mostly because it's not what you originally imagined, but also because we like what we know and I don't know this new town. So . . . I have lots of days where I need to vent and be upset and then try to get some perspective and correct my attitude.

I'll try to get some pictures up soon. My daughter is turning into a beautiful, sweet little thing. And her brother is still a chatty, sturdy, silly and emotional charmer. Still doesn't know a stranger. Still doesn't understand being quiet. "LOUD MUSIC MOMMA!" It's been so precious to watch them love each other and make each other laugh. "hold her momma" while Vera giggles and tries to grab whatever she can get her hands on of him.

And my husband . . . don't even get me started. He's incredibly helpful, an expert on our son, so supportive of my endeavors, so level and steady, such a hard worker and so kind and careful with his words. Even though the dishes aren't altogether "clean" per se, after he's done the dishes, he still does help sometimes. He's brilliant and is excelling in school. He wakes up at 5:30 in the morning so he can study for at least an hour before anyone else is awake, and so he can spend time with us in the evening. And he's really nice to me and he still likes me, even though I'm tired a lot of the time and stressed because our lives are so full and unsettled right now. I'm really proud of him, and so lucky to have him.

That's all I've got right now. Should be in the shower or packing or asleep. But will try to be here more.

2 quick dumb funny things

1. I wrote about this on my facebook status. Do not try to flick dog poop out of your yard and into the street with a stick while your trunk (however far away) is open and full of groceries. You may have to spend some time searching through the bags to find the flying poop that came from a dog that IS NOT YOURS. Thank you neighbors and neighbor's dog. Please note, NEIGHBORS, that dog poop in yards with small children's toys will get poked, while said small child says, "Poop! Don't touch it. Yucky." Still poking it. Grrrrrrrr.

2. Do not try to multi-task and put your hoodie on while you are walking at the YMCA. The probability of you running into a stranger while your head is still in the sweatshirt as you round a blind corner are very high. (Seriously . . . did I really do this today? I did. I have no idea what the other guy's excuse was. But ironically it was the same guy who nervously introduced himself to us at church last Sunday. I don't know if he remembered me from Sunday, but he will now.)

Just a couple of helpful life tips. Since I'm so successful at it. :)

Now

Now we are in 2011. Now we are all having trouble with sleeping at night. Now our fingers are splitting and our lips are peeling and our noses are boogering with 1930-our-house-is-too-old-to-have-humidity-when-it's-cold-outside. Now, for the first time in 7 months, Brett and I are the only two people attempting to sleep at night in our room. Our own room. Now, we are recovering from travelling and amazing Christmas and a New Year's Eve that ended at 10 pm. (We did a countdown at 8:15, probably with some strays somewhere in the Atlantic).

Now we wait, to see where we will live starting in June. Now, after all the hustle and hugs and food and friends of Christmastime, we settle back in and actually attempt this skill, this discipline that once came so easily . . . this thing called REFLECTION.

My cousin Mark, so dear to me, mentioned today that he kept up with us via the blog. And his sweet wife, Christine (any woman who has 4 young sons and still laughs easily and sparkles when she tells stories is of heroic sorts) reminded me that my last post was sometime in November.

So . . . even though I did not even intend to write tonight, here is what I've been reflecting about. Not deeply and not conclusively and still scattered, but . . . whatever.

1. What do I feel I did well this past year?
2. What was I ridiculously horrible about?
3. How do I need to change?
4. How am I going to do it?
5. Who am I going to employ for help as I attempt to change?

One area I am going to try to grow in, with God's sweet and gracious help, is self-control. I do not have heaping measures of it, but my magnificent husband does . . . so I am daily reminded, as he, for the 700+ day in a row abstains from eating sweet things, that I am lacking in my ability to regulate myself in the "say-no-and-walk-away".

Some other qualities I've been chewing on.
TRUST
SURRENDER
We sang "It is well with my soul" this morning at church. Acapella. It wrecked me. Lord get me there, to a place where I can say this if You choose for us to live in a town I would never choose to live in. Lord, please teach me to release my life, my expectations, my fears and to enjoy Your direction in my life, because I haven't been and it's sort of miserable.

Mark asked if I have some good days, after getting most of the information about our family from the blog. I laughed and said, "yes. If I had the guts to write about it, it means that I laughed about it even then. All tongue in cheek and for my entertainment and yours if you're reading."

So, yes, I have lots of good days but so much need more of Jesus. Need more trusting of Him. More enjoying Him. Less weird expectations of myself. Less dishes and laundry. :) Anyone? I'll pay you.

Happy New Year. Joyful New Year. Trusting New Year. Growing New Year. Restful New Year to you.

Waking up.

This is not intended to be humorous. There's your warning.
I've been praying for a few years that God would wake me up again. I think I've written about this before. "Wake up baby" etc.... But I've been praying and longing that my spirit would FEEL deeply, that I would be moved to action, that I would react to things with opinion and energy, that apathy would be foreign to me again. It's been strange to feel like a very significant part of your spirit is sleeping. I don't like it and honestly, just haven't felt like myself for a while.
However, if I pause for even a few moments (and I AM right now. Which means my children are asleep peacefully. Beautiful gifts) and reflect over even the last 6 months, it is painful and powerful to attest to the events and catastrophes that are stirring me again. Truthfully, these should move anyone to tears, or laughing, or something . . .. some reaction that attests to a living being behind it.
I don't want to write about some of these things, and I know you won't like reading them . . . in a much different way than you distaste reading about the details of rotavirus . . . but for the sake of accurately documenting our lives - the outside parts and the inside soulish parts - I will include them.
1. Some of my old college friends lost their second child in a year in a horrible, tragic way. Losing a child is always horrible and tragic, but this is especially so. Losing children is absolutely unparalleled in the ways of grief and shock and confusion. It is hellish. I don't really know what this is like, as my spoonfuls of these emotions grossly pale to what I know these dear parents and extended family have endured. Even so, my own response to their tragedy has been gripping, sobering, confusing, etc...
2. I had another baby. Sweet Vera Elizabeth. And she is . . . . oh she is. Content but still energetic, a tiny bit shy, beautiful and cuddly. Can't get enough of her. Add her sweetness to his royal rowdy. Sort of a crazy house sometimes.
3. My sister, Mel, and family moved to Rajpur India less than 2 weeks after Vera's birth for an indefinite length of time. They are about rescuing, rebuilding, becoming the in-between for the poor and those who have means for them not to be poor. They work with lepers and recovering addicts and street kids and create business for local artisans (who also happen to be lepers and recovering addicts and street kids). I have their web address as a link on my page if you want to know more. But I miss them. Skype is great, but I miss being together and watching my son wrestle hers. I miss hugging her skinny lanky self. But I LOVE what they are doing, love living it through them.
4. A homeless man drowned in the river by our house this summer. I drove home one day to happen upon half of the emergency vehicles and all of the news reporters and many of the locals surrounding the scene. Both kids asleep in the back, I circled three times and witnessed them pulling the body out. It was terrible. And he hadn't been in the water for just a few hours. I still can't get over it. It made me feel so lonely for some reason. Did anyone miss you, Mr. Homeless? Why did the neighbors act like it wasn't that big of a deal? You are a big deal, Mr. Homeless. You were a human being no less than I am. Every time I now go by the scene I get quiet. I've noticed that I try to look your homeless friends in the eyes more. Try to have conversations with them like I might have with my friends. Scold myself for making judgments or giving in to fear. Even if I can't really give them a home and a fresh start, I can give them some dignity and a smile and a conversation.
5. My brother and his wife Holly had another baby, Isaac Michael. Warrick's new wrestle-me-play-trucks-forget-the-dolls buddy. So exciting, so amazing.
6. A friend of my brother, who also happens to be a Bhutanese refugee and a Hindi, told him recently that he believes that Jesus is who He claims to be . . . the Son of God. And that He wants to know Jesus and be like Him. This is a very very big deal. We don't really get the oppressive nature of some of the other world religions, and what individuals risk should they abandon their cultural "religion". Knowing what little I do, I know this statement and the actions that have followed are of landslide quality.
7. Some of my other college friends are currently facing a huge injustice. It seems, on paper at least, that they will lose their adopted daughter who is now 2 1/2 years old. They've been in legal battles for her for at least 2 of those years. They have done everything right but because of the "law" and the tiny lies of some of the people involved, the adoption may be reversed. Reversed isn't the right word . . . I don't know what is . . . . "horrible", "irrational", "inhumane". When should it ever be "lawful" to rip a healthy family apart? I can't get into this right now as it's too soon . . . too heavy right now. How do you explain these things to a child? Can hardly stomach it.
8. WSU hosted their annual "Frostbite" Classic Regatta this past weekend. We had a picnic and watched the "boat races". I couldn't help myself. My old competitive, never-give-up girl swelled out of me and I found myself loudly cheering on perfect strangers. Kids in boats who were hoping the finish line was just 2 strokes away. 2700 meters of tearing pain. I remember. My heart rate was racing with them. I've come to realize that it doesn't matter how in or out of shape I may be, I will still always be a competitor. I just am. Warrick even mimicked my cheering. "Do it! Do it!" From my, "You can do it You're almost there!" Today, there was a peaceful man leisurely (if you can say leisurely about rowing) stroking his way down the river, clearly not racing, and Warrick hung out sideways from his stroller and screamed, "DO IT! DO IT!" I loved it.
These are just the first 8 that came to mind. I could have written a lengthy entry about each one, but the days are full and I don't want to forget. I apologize for the ping-ponging of emotion and lack of transition. I AM waking up and it is good. Even though some of these things are truly horrific, I'm grateful that in it, our Sweet Jesus is raising my stilled soul again.