Jesse was accepted into the University of Oregon Industrial Master’s Program!! We will be moving to Eugene, OR this June and we will be in Eugene for the next 3-12months. It’s a crazy cool program where you go to intense classes for 3-6 months, and then complete a 9-month internship program with a company in the industry Jess is interested in. Jesse loves Polymers. After me, God, and The Packers, he loves Polymers. Polymers are sometimes plastic. Sometimes they are bio materials (like silk??) and are 100% confusing to his English Major wife. Basically he’ll get to study Chemistry and will get “real-world” experience in a company, and will network the ish out this whole shebang.

But this means leaving Bellingham. And I’ve kind of have the perfect setup right now. I have my favorite gym, hairdresser, church, lake-view from my home, and the best cake shop to work for in the whole universe. But you know in the movie Chocolat (I watched the TV version as a kid, and don’t necessarily recommend watching it now) when her Mom makes them move whenever she gets a restless feeling from the wind? Well, I can feel that the winds are changing and it’s time. (And no, I’m not talking about ACTUAL winds, just metaphorical gusts pushing you towards new things). I will for sure be visiting Bellingham every chance I get since I’ll need to cuddle and spoil my soon-to-be niece AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

We’re still looking for a place in Eugene, and it might take a bit of searching since our living place needs a very flexible lease since Jesse could get an internship offer from anywhere in the country, and the start dates depend upon the company. I’m hoping we can live with a family like we have in the past, because I’ve really enjoyed that and it’s much cozier and friendlier than a rental company. But maybe we’ve been too spoiled with great landlords. Either way, I’m trying to hold things loosely because I’ve been know to obsessively check Craigslist rental pages in the past.

Speaking of obsessive checking, I took a break from social media for lent this year, and I know it’s incredibly cliche, but HOLY CRAP IT’S RUINING OUR LIVES!! Except for seeing your beautiful faces on FB and Instagram, and the ability to post and share this blog, it’s literally a time-suck created to get you into vortex of FOMO (fear of missing out), and watching Tech Insider videos about “How Airplanes Affect Your Sense of Taste,” (fascinating, but useless information). My goal for the future is to limit not eliminate Social Media™ (it is a company, that wants you to spend as much time as possible on their app). The one surprising thing I learned was how much I relied on Social Media™ to fabricate small talk questions “Anything *NEW* in your life?” I would ask, already knowing my friend got engaged, or “Take any interesting trips lately?” ALREADY knowing that they went to the Bermuda Triangle and it was really trippy. Without this asking-but-already knowing routine, I had more awkward (soooawkward), but real conversations with casual acquaintances. It made me more vulnerable in social situations but made me work harder for real connection.

So in the void created by cutting back on social media I have started watercolor painting again (Yay!) read the entire Fellowship of the Ring book (Two Towers I’m coming for ya!), and planning to get knitting supplies. I feel like Aunts are supposed to knit, and since I’m going to be an aunt soon, I better knit! The whole knitting experiment might fail, but I’ve completed a scarf in the past so if I can upgrade to blanket level status I’ll be satisfied. I will probably not be working this summer since I want flexibility to visit said Niece who will be dressed in cute knitted garb AMAP! (As Much As Possible). I need hobbies/activities so I don’t become a netflix/facebook drone while husband is away studying his brains out. This will also, hopefully, mean more consistent blogs being catapulted into the blogosphere.

I’m hoping to write more in this next season, maybe volunteer with different ministries, and find a writing community to connect with in Eugene. And explore the Oregon coast AMAP (As much as possible, again).

Phew, I think that’s about all for now!

The exit signs flashed on, and stayed on. The stewardess braced herself on the side of an aisle seat. My stomach did acrobatics as the plane dropped again and again. All you could see out of the plane’s windows were dark clouds stacked on dark grey clouds. Not a single star or patch of light from the ground. I gripped Jesse’s hand so hard it probably hurt but he knew that going into marriage he was signing up for white-knuckle landings and take-offs with me. An audible “Woah” can be heard when the turbulence continues and the sleeping passengers are jostled awake. We were landing in an ice storm. Safe, but turbulent. Uncertain and slightly terrified, but the oxygen masks haven’t dropped…yet. Neither here nor there. Your past destination or Home. A quick prayer anchoring you to heaven as you float in liminal spaces.

Well, Hello 2018. Here I am. I have mixed feelings about you, but I’m choosing excitement over panic, thoughtfulness over self-pity, and a glass of living water instead of things that do not fill me up.

Sometimes I can focus too much on the things have gone wrong or were difficult. And I don’t remember the good stuff. Looking back on a year of memories, I tend to NOT remember the times when I came to God on my knees and He met me there. The times He comforted me like a small child. I remember the failings, not the rescue. Ahn at Hillcrest Chapel last Sunday reminded us to remember the rescue. To remember the Grace we have been given but do not deserve.

I’m tired of being the grief girl, but I’m also not content with shoving my feelings down and pretending that they don’t exist. I like to carry them like pails of water, and by golly if you carry a pail of water up the hill some of it sloshes out and you have less pesky emotions to carry than when you started with but you have to start up the hill. You have to. Even if you fall and break your head, you get back up again. and you climb the hill again. You kiss the sweet ground when you land, and say “Thank you for giving me another day on this green earth God. I know I complain a lot. and I’m sorry for that. I know I apologize for things you don’t consider bad like awkward phone calls or wearing the wrong shirt to church, and ignore the bad stuff I really should be working through and you have to be patient for way too long before I take the speck out of my own eye. But Thank you for another day. Another year. Another chapter in the book of Redemption that I did not deserve.” Amen, Amen, Amen.

How can we sing about death having no sting, when it’s crippling me?

Landing in the ice storm. Little to no control over the whole situation. Coming in blind and hoping for a good outcome. The wiseman had a star, and what do I have on my darkest days? A bunch of  grey clouds, uncertain ground under my feet, turbulent turns of the stomach. But God lets me grip his hand. He’s beside me on the plane. He’s not the pilot. He’s not the air. He’s not asleep, unaware of my suffering. He’s the still, small voice. He whispers in the times of uncertainty, waiting, and storms.

I spoke of things I didn’t not understand, things too great for me.

Job 42:3b

The plane dips onto the runway. The wheels hit the tarmac and are the most comforting rhythm I’ve heard in a while. Evergreens on the hills remind me I’m once again Bellingham. Kicking myself for taking the cheaper airline ticket on the smaller plane (you don’t even get free soda and peanuts), I laugh as we enter the airport, giddy with my new-found appreciation for life, ground, and safety.  “We’re not flying for a long time after this, ok? Long enough for me to forget this experience.” I tell Jesse. He laughs in disbelief, a little rattled too. The stewardess warns us put on a rain jacket if we have one, since it’s raining pretty hard outside. I let the rain hit me in the face and breathe in deeply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas season everyone! Below is a poem I recently wrote and shared at a Women’s Christmas tea my church hosted.

Unpacking Christmas Boxes

Three years ago,
Dreams of engagement boxes
Danced above my head,
Buried in snow and expectant waiting
Tortured by bright bows and the sparkle of
“Yes!”
Unaware of the cancer growing in my Mother’s chest.

The angels sing,

Peace, Good-will to all Men.

The next night I dreamt of a large box,
Heavy and sagging in my arms,
I could barely grasp the sides.
And God said to me,
“You’ll carry this next.”

Like Mary, I tucked this away in my heart.

And here I am,
Working at the bakery
Struck with the weight that Mom is gone,
Carrying a box of cake rounds
Which will hold Ginger Spice, pumpkin cheesecake,
And the Holiday glow others can still find.

Emmanuel, God with us.

I unpack each piece and think of the surprise parties, holidays and solemn funerals
We commemorates with sweets.
I hand out to-go boxes, and flatten the cardboard outside the shop
A bride discusses two-tiered wedding cakes,
My coworker admires my ring.

I carry a lot of boxes
Gold, Frankincense, and Myrhh

Three years later,
I dream of God’s banquet table
Spread with abundance and celebration
Buried in my heart, and bittersweet pain.
It’s not the tidy box I asked for.
The angels sing
Glory to God in the Highest
Peace, Good will to all Men.