Funny, I thought I was done with this particular chapter - or group of chapters. We are back home in Maui, getting settled into our new place. But tonight, in the middle of the unpacking, we are packing once again.
You see, my mother died. Ironically, when I was noting the passing of one year since having a home with some security, my mother was passing from this world into the arms of her saviour. So, we are going back to the mainland tomorrow to celebrate her life with friends and family, then we'll return home here to our little island in the Pacific.
But I'm okay - at least as okay as one is in the face of losing a parent. In fact, my tears are equally balanced by a sense of joy and gratitude - not just for my mom, that she is without pain or worries any more, even though that would be enough to keep a smile on my face. I am blown away by the wisdom and tenderness and compassion of our Lord.
I spent a lot of time the past year crying out to God - and many mere mortals, as demonstrated in blogs - as to why we were going through what we were going through. And now it is so clear. He did it for me.
My mom and I have had some rough times in recent years, but this summer, they all seemed to fade away. I got to spend time with her. She was so tender and sympathetic with our plight, and genuinely thrilled for us when we returned a month ago. During our time in what we then viewed as our exile, I was able to complete a novel I had been writing for -literally - years. Mother read it, loved it, then kept bugging me about when it would be published and when was the sequel coming out!
I ask myself, would I have finished the book had we not been in that position? Likely not. Would we have spent that kind of time with her and the rest of our family had we not been forced to? Certainly not.
God is so good.
Mother was planning a cruise out here to Hawaii, but she had been becoming increasingly confused of late. I think that scared her and prevented her from making those plans firm. I praise God for sparing her the loss of her sharp mind. I praise Him further that my Mother's family has been spared the pain of watching their Matriarch slip slowly away, losing bits of herself as she faded.
So, I end this series of blogs with one blog more than I intended. Seems right. Because what I intend is never, ever better than what God designs.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Subjective Year
Technically, time is supposed to be an objective measure. It doesn't have an opinion or mood. It doesn't change with the weather. It can't change its tempo. Even though there are very smart people who invented leap years, minutes, and seconds to keep us calibrated, they do it at precise intervals - not at the whim of somebody whose name was drawn from a hat, for the honor of choosing when or how much to leap. Time just is.
Except...where our subjective interpretation is involved.
Take, for instance, a year. Is it twelve short months? Or is it fifty-two long weeks? Our granddaughter turned three earlier this year, and to have to wait another year before turning four is so impossibly long, she has to help it along in increments ("I am three-and-a-half!"). I, on the other hand, refuse to even acknowledge the passing of another year at warp speed. I am not another year older until it is the hour of my actual arrival into the world. A year left in college seems too much to handle for the twenty-one year old, while the eighteen-year-old who just began would give anything to have only that one year remaining. A young military wife spends the long year of her husband's deployment praying that the months will speed by. Tell that same young wife that she has only a year of life left due to the cancer spreading poison in her body and her fervent prayer is that the days will go so very slowly. Time is objective - until our perspective gives it value.
Our first year here on Maui was learning the rhythm of this island - and the time seemed quick, indeed. The next year dragged, as we lost any sense of rhythm in this or any place. A year ago today, we were moved out entirely from our lovely Ka'anapali condo. A year later, we have begun the process of unpacking in our new home, those inanimate objects which have personality to me, and have been in forced hibernation. It has been a year since we have slept in our own big bed. A year since we ate off our own dishes and sipped from our own glasses. A year since I have painted. A year since I have seen my existing art. A year since we have had a proper home office. It has been nearly a year since our own beloved dog has been with us. And now, one very long and difficult year later, it has all come back together again.
We could spend (waste) our time bemoaning the tough times of the past twelve months, but that would give short shrift to the work God was doing on us in that time. I, after all, want to pay close attention to the lessons He was teaching us in hope that we will NEVER have to be taught them again! So, I need to praise God for the year past - and that the year HAS passed. I need to trust in Him for the year ahead, know that I don't know what I don't know. Above all, I need to remember that time was an invention for man, and that Adam was the one who made it finite because of his choice for a fruity snack. In God's eyes, this is only a vapor, a momentary mist - a blink in eternity.
Amen.
Except...where our subjective interpretation is involved.
Take, for instance, a year. Is it twelve short months? Or is it fifty-two long weeks? Our granddaughter turned three earlier this year, and to have to wait another year before turning four is so impossibly long, she has to help it along in increments ("I am three-and-a-half!"). I, on the other hand, refuse to even acknowledge the passing of another year at warp speed. I am not another year older until it is the hour of my actual arrival into the world. A year left in college seems too much to handle for the twenty-one year old, while the eighteen-year-old who just began would give anything to have only that one year remaining. A young military wife spends the long year of her husband's deployment praying that the months will speed by. Tell that same young wife that she has only a year of life left due to the cancer spreading poison in her body and her fervent prayer is that the days will go so very slowly. Time is objective - until our perspective gives it value.
Our first year here on Maui was learning the rhythm of this island - and the time seemed quick, indeed. The next year dragged, as we lost any sense of rhythm in this or any place. A year ago today, we were moved out entirely from our lovely Ka'anapali condo. A year later, we have begun the process of unpacking in our new home, those inanimate objects which have personality to me, and have been in forced hibernation. It has been a year since we have slept in our own big bed. A year since we ate off our own dishes and sipped from our own glasses. A year since I have painted. A year since I have seen my existing art. A year since we have had a proper home office. It has been nearly a year since our own beloved dog has been with us. And now, one very long and difficult year later, it has all come back together again.
We could spend (waste) our time bemoaning the tough times of the past twelve months, but that would give short shrift to the work God was doing on us in that time. I, after all, want to pay close attention to the lessons He was teaching us in hope that we will NEVER have to be taught them again! So, I need to praise God for the year past - and that the year HAS passed. I need to trust in Him for the year ahead, know that I don't know what I don't know. Above all, I need to remember that time was an invention for man, and that Adam was the one who made it finite because of his choice for a fruity snack. In God's eyes, this is only a vapor, a momentary mist - a blink in eternity.
Amen.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Return from Babylon
We are going home. I guess I should rephrase to say we are returning home. "Going Home" for Christians has an entirely different - and eternal - meaning. But for us, it means the end of what Don and I have called our exile.
In the Old Testament, starting at 2 Kings, we see the Israelites sent packing by God out of their Land of Milk and Honey to set up camp as exiles in Babylon. While we in no way compare ourselves to these longsuffering - if stubborn and rebellious - people, the two of us struggled to describe our..."situation". We did not move back home. Maui has become our home. We certainly weren't on vacation. There are a lot more wayside adventures, amusement parks, and tourist traps on a vacation. It wasn't even our idea to come to the mainland at that time. Exile. Yup. And like the Israelites, we felt God's hand in all of it.
Like any difficult season, one is not the same as before the difficulties. Whether the changes are good or bad is largely up to the one enduring it. We have a little bit of bad, and (we pray), lots of good. Of the bad, most obvious is an increased....shall we say....thickness to Don and I. I am a foodie - love to cook, love to eat. Unfortunately, under stress I tend to use food for more than nutrition. On top of that, we are away from our favorite forms of exercise: walking the hills of Maui and snorkeling in her warm waters. This combo is not good. We intend to remedy that quickly.
The other bad thing isn't all bad. I feel a little residue of sadness, kind of an emotion scar, as it were. That's okay. I had a hard time coming to grips with that, since I should be over-the-moon happy, right? But just like the four inch scar I have on my leg reminds me NOT to enter rough, murky waters under which lava rocks lurk, this scar reminds me of the tenuous nature of my plans and the foolishness of thinking I can depend on those plans. This shadow also reminds me to never forget the sovereignty of Almighty God. I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this feeling, yet, but I understand its value.
The good stuff is that we absolutely have seen our marriage made so much stronger. We have seen a few ugly moments, but they were brief. For the most part, we feel a new appreciation for each other and a deeper companionship developed through this time. I have seen my husband's faith skyrocket - even as mine struggled, at times.
Another change I noticed in one of those "a-HA!" moments. I have read the book of James many, many times. I love it. Of course, the passage that begins at 1:2, with "Count it all joy, brethren, when you fall into various trials..." is not always met with enthusiasm by the reader (i.e. moi). I have not been in the least little bit joyful. But by reading further, James promises that these trials will lead to patience, and to let that patience have its "perfect work" in me. Later, in 4:13-16, James tell us to avoid saying what we are planning to do and just how much profit we will make and gee, aren't we wonderful. Okay. That last part I just sort of made up - but it's inferred. Anyway, James tells us to say rather that if GOD wills we will do - and fill in the blank with whatever you think your plans may be. It warns against the evil practice of boasting. It protects against the humiliation of looking like a fool when your plans fall apart. It clearly states who is in control of our lives, and to whom we should give the glory for any outcome. God is sovereign.
I finally, finally get it. I have developed a patience for waiting which is only possible because of this. I misinterpreted it, at first, as a strange lack of excitement on my part about going home. I have been known to get all in a tizzy knowing I'm going to Cool Cat for lunch or get my hair done, so this was troubling. But (a-ha!), I am waiting on God to tell me. I am waiting on God to show me. I am becoming patient. Not perfect, but patient. And this patience does not look at all like I thought it would. I do not have a sappy smile plastered on my face all the time. Smiling may not be appropriate. Persevering is hard. Refining hurts. One does not persevere through a day at the spa. A five-layer chocolate torte is in no way a trial or refining fire. Tough times are tough times. Period. And I find that I am done apologizing for not having a perky outlook when things are hard. That's just phony - and more than a little annoying. But, I have also found a deeper meaning of "joy". I have always known that joy is a deep abiding feeling that exists despite conditions, where happiness is always conditional. Thanks, Brother James. I get it!
But I am happy. We leave for Maui on Tuesday, September 13, 2011 - five months to the day of leaving our island home to our exile in Babylon. Though it may not have been our idea, we are so glad that God did what he did. We attended weddings, our son's graduation, a marriage retreat, saw the Grand Canyon, had another crazy road trip up here to Portland, during which we caught up with Cousins Judy and Pam and their respective families, and saw our dear friends, the Bradleys. We made a few new friends during these months. We also reveled in the energy and beauty of our two grandchildren, met our new great-niece, Avery, and hung out with Greg's new girlfriend (the lovely Sarah!). I doubt that the Israelites had it so good.
We are both so very, very happy to be returning home. We are so happy that, once again, God said "yes."
In the Old Testament, starting at 2 Kings, we see the Israelites sent packing by God out of their Land of Milk and Honey to set up camp as exiles in Babylon. While we in no way compare ourselves to these longsuffering - if stubborn and rebellious - people, the two of us struggled to describe our..."situation". We did not move back home. Maui has become our home. We certainly weren't on vacation. There are a lot more wayside adventures, amusement parks, and tourist traps on a vacation. It wasn't even our idea to come to the mainland at that time. Exile. Yup. And like the Israelites, we felt God's hand in all of it.
Like any difficult season, one is not the same as before the difficulties. Whether the changes are good or bad is largely up to the one enduring it. We have a little bit of bad, and (we pray), lots of good. Of the bad, most obvious is an increased....shall we say....thickness to Don and I. I am a foodie - love to cook, love to eat. Unfortunately, under stress I tend to use food for more than nutrition. On top of that, we are away from our favorite forms of exercise: walking the hills of Maui and snorkeling in her warm waters. This combo is not good. We intend to remedy that quickly.
The other bad thing isn't all bad. I feel a little residue of sadness, kind of an emotion scar, as it were. That's okay. I had a hard time coming to grips with that, since I should be over-the-moon happy, right? But just like the four inch scar I have on my leg reminds me NOT to enter rough, murky waters under which lava rocks lurk, this scar reminds me of the tenuous nature of my plans and the foolishness of thinking I can depend on those plans. This shadow also reminds me to never forget the sovereignty of Almighty God. I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this feeling, yet, but I understand its value.
The good stuff is that we absolutely have seen our marriage made so much stronger. We have seen a few ugly moments, but they were brief. For the most part, we feel a new appreciation for each other and a deeper companionship developed through this time. I have seen my husband's faith skyrocket - even as mine struggled, at times.
Another change I noticed in one of those "a-HA!" moments. I have read the book of James many, many times. I love it. Of course, the passage that begins at 1:2, with "Count it all joy, brethren, when you fall into various trials..." is not always met with enthusiasm by the reader (i.e. moi). I have not been in the least little bit joyful. But by reading further, James promises that these trials will lead to patience, and to let that patience have its "perfect work" in me. Later, in 4:13-16, James tell us to avoid saying what we are planning to do and just how much profit we will make and gee, aren't we wonderful. Okay. That last part I just sort of made up - but it's inferred. Anyway, James tells us to say rather that if GOD wills we will do - and fill in the blank with whatever you think your plans may be. It warns against the evil practice of boasting. It protects against the humiliation of looking like a fool when your plans fall apart. It clearly states who is in control of our lives, and to whom we should give the glory for any outcome. God is sovereign.
I finally, finally get it. I have developed a patience for waiting which is only possible because of this. I misinterpreted it, at first, as a strange lack of excitement on my part about going home. I have been known to get all in a tizzy knowing I'm going to Cool Cat for lunch or get my hair done, so this was troubling. But (a-ha!), I am waiting on God to tell me. I am waiting on God to show me. I am becoming patient. Not perfect, but patient. And this patience does not look at all like I thought it would. I do not have a sappy smile plastered on my face all the time. Smiling may not be appropriate. Persevering is hard. Refining hurts. One does not persevere through a day at the spa. A five-layer chocolate torte is in no way a trial or refining fire. Tough times are tough times. Period. And I find that I am done apologizing for not having a perky outlook when things are hard. That's just phony - and more than a little annoying. But, I have also found a deeper meaning of "joy". I have always known that joy is a deep abiding feeling that exists despite conditions, where happiness is always conditional. Thanks, Brother James. I get it!
But I am happy. We leave for Maui on Tuesday, September 13, 2011 - five months to the day of leaving our island home to our exile in Babylon. Though it may not have been our idea, we are so glad that God did what he did. We attended weddings, our son's graduation, a marriage retreat, saw the Grand Canyon, had another crazy road trip up here to Portland, during which we caught up with Cousins Judy and Pam and their respective families, and saw our dear friends, the Bradleys. We made a few new friends during these months. We also reveled in the energy and beauty of our two grandchildren, met our new great-niece, Avery, and hung out with Greg's new girlfriend (the lovely Sarah!). I doubt that the Israelites had it so good.
We are both so very, very happy to be returning home. We are so happy that, once again, God said "yes."
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Respite
respite |ˈrespət; riˈspīt|
noun
a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant
(sigh!) My computer is on our dinette in the rv, which means there isn't any dining going on at the dinette. It also means that I can look out a nice big window and see what there is to see. Tonight, I have the pleasure and blessing of watching sunset over Mission Bay. Tall and elegant palm trees make jet black silhouettes against brilliant pink and orange and coral swaths in a dove blue sky. ahhhh... My feet are are wearing the perfect amount of salt and sand, applied as Don and I sat in our beach chairs with our feets in the water of De Anza Cove in San Diego's Mission Bay. Respite. Respite from the desert.
As you recall from our last episode, we had returned to Hemet, CA for our free week in the trailer park. It actually wasn't that bad...much. But we had lovely triple digit weather to keep us toasty and ants to keep us company. We also had a fun side trip up to Idyllwild, a little town about 60 minutes away from, 5,000 feet higher than, and 20 degrees cooler than Hemet. There isn't a whole ton to do there, but it was a nice break - except for the cliff-hugging road that is about 6 inches wide and 5 miles up. Okay. Maybe I exaggerate...but not much. But we got there alive, and once Don coaxed me up from the floor of the car, we wandered around this cute mountain town. We opted to have lunch up in Idyllwild, said lunch being three of the most delicious chocolate truffles - each big enough for Don and I to have a hearty bite. Well....maybe I took two on the peanutbutter filled...but I did let Don have a quarter of it. Or was it a tenth?? At any rate, we got finished with our (ahem!) lunch, when Don got a call on his listing that has been in escrow since Larry King was a boy. Having left his computer behind, it meant that we had to go BACK down the cliff-hugging, 6 inch wide, 5 mile high road back to Hemet. I learned a couple of things during this trip: one, chocolate truffles make a very good lunch, and two, being in a flat desert has its benefits.
Before we moved to Hemet, we listed Don's car on Craig's list in two regions and on Auto Trader. We had a couple of interesting calls that went kafoof once they found out that one should not reasonably expect to buy a nice car for $12.06. After a week or so we got a call that was the real deal, and we made arrangements to meet this woman and her 81-year-old mom (who was the actual buyer) at the Downtown Disney parking lot - they live in Anaheim and Don and I were looking for another side trip. I figured this would also be a little less harrowing then careening around hairpin turns with two tires hanging off the side of the road. I was wrong. Anybody who has traveled on any one of the 8,104,932 freeways in Southern California knows that these roads are filled mile after mile and side to side with angry drivers who are apparently late for something and you are just in their way. Or, they are wannabe stock car drivers who chase perpetual checkered flags. At any rate, we were driving Don's pretty car, all shiny and clean, to meet her potential new mom.
I must confess that since being over on the mainland, knowing we were selling the car, we have been pretty much paranoia on wheels - and this day was no different. We prayed that no one would decide that this was the day to play bumper cars on the 91. We never thought about praying for protection from random little rocks being flung up from anonymous tires. Yup. Somewhere in Yorba Linda a little stone found its way to our windshield and left a dandy little nick, which promptly shot out little spider veins to the size of a quarter. Are ya kidding me!?!?!? Praise God for our modern electronics and the brainiacs who invented them. I got on the phone to a repair company who connected me to our insurance who found out that the first company couldn't do it immediately so he found me another one who would meet us in the parking lot of Downtown Disney, Anaheim, California. Whew!! We arrived in the parking lot, sweating each and every pot hole and speed bump. Shortly after, the potential buyers arrived, and took the car for a very tight spin in the lot, and then the repair guy showed up. Quick as a bunny, he had the windshield repaired, and he was gone. The potential buyers had left with the promise of calling the next day after they thought a little more. And Don and I were on our own. From the moment the rock went CRACK to the excitement being over was about one hour. Things here really are a very different pace than in Maui. Unfortunately, the very, very nice lady called me the next morning to tell me she decided to buy a new car instead of our lovely but used (and recently injured) car.
So, that brings us to here and now. Don thought we should head for San Diego for a week or so, to catch up on some business appointments and friends and family and all things San Diego. We had no reservations anywhere, but my sweet hubby was confident that we would find lodging. I don't like that. I like reservations. I like clear destinations. But after a couple of hours chilling in a parking lot on Mission Bay, we investigated a couple of places around the bay. A couple were less than appealing and practically sat between the 3 and 4 lanes of the I-5. Don remembered one hidden behind the mobile homes on a thumbprint of land on this lovely bay. Tah-dah!! The park itself is rather like a giant parking lot, but with uber big spots, and clean as a whistle. When the numbers are down, we have a gorgeous bay view, and every night, we take a walk around this thumbprint. Except for the high cotton, it might as well be the Summertime that George Gershwin wrote about in his song of that name - the living is easy and fish are certainly jumpin'! The bay is generally glassy at night, unless there is a faint ripple caused by breezes from the west. The quiet is broken by fish leaping up to the tiny bug buffet God has set out for them. After they grab a particularly yummy critter, they belly flop back into the water with a loud splash, leaving more ripples in concentric circles.
The mobile home that are on the other side of the walk are only mobile homes in the technical sense. Most of them have breathtaking views of the shimmering water and the lights from the city that are reflected. They all have these huge picture windows and large decks. Many have big gardens and one has a big topiary zoo in the front yard. We have passed by many folks as they sit on their decks, or innocently catch glimpses of them through their picture windows as they live this blessed life.
Before we came down here, we got another inquiry on Don's car. This guy seemed very legit, as he was asking questions that were pointed and knowledgeable. After a few more texts and phone conversations, he came with his wife to see the car, meeting us at the dealership where said vehicle was getting her 60,000 mile checkup. The guy talked to the mechanic, checked the records, already had the car fax, test drove it....and BOUGHT IT!! Yup! Finally!! This car which seemed to be more leper than Lexus found a new home. We are without a car for a few days until we rent one until we go home (very soon!), but there is a cool beach here, so why should we go anywhere!?!? Our Lexie II has a new mom and dad in Yuma, Arizona! HOT!! And, ironically, the 81-year-old lady's daughter called right after we made the deal. Seems that Mom changed her mind. Ah, well...
So, now we begin the mad dash to get ready to return to our island home. I'm not saying that we think the trial and challenges are over. Not even close. We know that we have a lot of hard work still ahead. We also know that the lack of such trials means that we are likely not of any significance to the enemy. This is not a good thing for a Christian. In the meantime, Don and I will revel in this respite.
I am finishing this at noon the day after I started it. No, it doesn't take me that long to write, I just wanted to eat and sleep and do other stuff. But now, it's bright and sunny and salt water and sand are calling to me (sigh!)
noun
a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant
(sigh!) My computer is on our dinette in the rv, which means there isn't any dining going on at the dinette. It also means that I can look out a nice big window and see what there is to see. Tonight, I have the pleasure and blessing of watching sunset over Mission Bay. Tall and elegant palm trees make jet black silhouettes against brilliant pink and orange and coral swaths in a dove blue sky. ahhhh... My feet are are wearing the perfect amount of salt and sand, applied as Don and I sat in our beach chairs with our feets in the water of De Anza Cove in San Diego's Mission Bay. Respite. Respite from the desert.
As you recall from our last episode, we had returned to Hemet, CA for our free week in the trailer park. It actually wasn't that bad...much. But we had lovely triple digit weather to keep us toasty and ants to keep us company. We also had a fun side trip up to Idyllwild, a little town about 60 minutes away from, 5,000 feet higher than, and 20 degrees cooler than Hemet. There isn't a whole ton to do there, but it was a nice break - except for the cliff-hugging road that is about 6 inches wide and 5 miles up. Okay. Maybe I exaggerate...but not much. But we got there alive, and once Don coaxed me up from the floor of the car, we wandered around this cute mountain town. We opted to have lunch up in Idyllwild, said lunch being three of the most delicious chocolate truffles - each big enough for Don and I to have a hearty bite. Well....maybe I took two on the peanutbutter filled...but I did let Don have a quarter of it. Or was it a tenth?? At any rate, we got finished with our (ahem!) lunch, when Don got a call on his listing that has been in escrow since Larry King was a boy. Having left his computer behind, it meant that we had to go BACK down the cliff-hugging, 6 inch wide, 5 mile high road back to Hemet. I learned a couple of things during this trip: one, chocolate truffles make a very good lunch, and two, being in a flat desert has its benefits.
Before we moved to Hemet, we listed Don's car on Craig's list in two regions and on Auto Trader. We had a couple of interesting calls that went kafoof once they found out that one should not reasonably expect to buy a nice car for $12.06. After a week or so we got a call that was the real deal, and we made arrangements to meet this woman and her 81-year-old mom (who was the actual buyer) at the Downtown Disney parking lot - they live in Anaheim and Don and I were looking for another side trip. I figured this would also be a little less harrowing then careening around hairpin turns with two tires hanging off the side of the road. I was wrong. Anybody who has traveled on any one of the 8,104,932 freeways in Southern California knows that these roads are filled mile after mile and side to side with angry drivers who are apparently late for something and you are just in their way. Or, they are wannabe stock car drivers who chase perpetual checkered flags. At any rate, we were driving Don's pretty car, all shiny and clean, to meet her potential new mom.
I must confess that since being over on the mainland, knowing we were selling the car, we have been pretty much paranoia on wheels - and this day was no different. We prayed that no one would decide that this was the day to play bumper cars on the 91. We never thought about praying for protection from random little rocks being flung up from anonymous tires. Yup. Somewhere in Yorba Linda a little stone found its way to our windshield and left a dandy little nick, which promptly shot out little spider veins to the size of a quarter. Are ya kidding me!?!?!? Praise God for our modern electronics and the brainiacs who invented them. I got on the phone to a repair company who connected me to our insurance who found out that the first company couldn't do it immediately so he found me another one who would meet us in the parking lot of Downtown Disney, Anaheim, California. Whew!! We arrived in the parking lot, sweating each and every pot hole and speed bump. Shortly after, the potential buyers arrived, and took the car for a very tight spin in the lot, and then the repair guy showed up. Quick as a bunny, he had the windshield repaired, and he was gone. The potential buyers had left with the promise of calling the next day after they thought a little more. And Don and I were on our own. From the moment the rock went CRACK to the excitement being over was about one hour. Things here really are a very different pace than in Maui. Unfortunately, the very, very nice lady called me the next morning to tell me she decided to buy a new car instead of our lovely but used (and recently injured) car.
So, that brings us to here and now. Don thought we should head for San Diego for a week or so, to catch up on some business appointments and friends and family and all things San Diego. We had no reservations anywhere, but my sweet hubby was confident that we would find lodging. I don't like that. I like reservations. I like clear destinations. But after a couple of hours chilling in a parking lot on Mission Bay, we investigated a couple of places around the bay. A couple were less than appealing and practically sat between the 3 and 4 lanes of the I-5. Don remembered one hidden behind the mobile homes on a thumbprint of land on this lovely bay. Tah-dah!! The park itself is rather like a giant parking lot, but with uber big spots, and clean as a whistle. When the numbers are down, we have a gorgeous bay view, and every night, we take a walk around this thumbprint. Except for the high cotton, it might as well be the Summertime that George Gershwin wrote about in his song of that name - the living is easy and fish are certainly jumpin'! The bay is generally glassy at night, unless there is a faint ripple caused by breezes from the west. The quiet is broken by fish leaping up to the tiny bug buffet God has set out for them. After they grab a particularly yummy critter, they belly flop back into the water with a loud splash, leaving more ripples in concentric circles.
The mobile home that are on the other side of the walk are only mobile homes in the technical sense. Most of them have breathtaking views of the shimmering water and the lights from the city that are reflected. They all have these huge picture windows and large decks. Many have big gardens and one has a big topiary zoo in the front yard. We have passed by many folks as they sit on their decks, or innocently catch glimpses of them through their picture windows as they live this blessed life.
Before we came down here, we got another inquiry on Don's car. This guy seemed very legit, as he was asking questions that were pointed and knowledgeable. After a few more texts and phone conversations, he came with his wife to see the car, meeting us at the dealership where said vehicle was getting her 60,000 mile checkup. The guy talked to the mechanic, checked the records, already had the car fax, test drove it....and BOUGHT IT!! Yup! Finally!! This car which seemed to be more leper than Lexus found a new home. We are without a car for a few days until we rent one until we go home (very soon!), but there is a cool beach here, so why should we go anywhere!?!? Our Lexie II has a new mom and dad in Yuma, Arizona! HOT!! And, ironically, the 81-year-old lady's daughter called right after we made the deal. Seems that Mom changed her mind. Ah, well...
So, now we begin the mad dash to get ready to return to our island home. I'm not saying that we think the trial and challenges are over. Not even close. We know that we have a lot of hard work still ahead. We also know that the lack of such trials means that we are likely not of any significance to the enemy. This is not a good thing for a Christian. In the meantime, Don and I will revel in this respite.
I am finishing this at noon the day after I started it. No, it doesn't take me that long to write, I just wanted to eat and sleep and do other stuff. But now, it's bright and sunny and salt water and sand are calling to me (sigh!)
Monday, August 15, 2011
Lord, This is NOT the "Go Back" Of Which We Were Speaking
Well, here we are (sigh!), back in the trailer park that we first landed in four months ago. The same sort of grim, barren trailer park - I mean RV Resort and Mobile Home Park. But it's free for a week, so ya gotta love that! It's their compensation for us after the power surge fiasco caused by their gardeners that blew out our tv and converter (which they did replace, pronto) and cost us serious buckage to replace the tv and have it reinstalled. We accept. Gratefully. But it isn't exactly what we had in mind when, in our heartfelt prayers, we asked God to let us "go back."
Four months and two days ago, Don and I were taking our last drive (for a while) in our little jeep along the highway toward the airport in Kahului, Maui. Our hearts, of course, were pretty much in pieces, but we could see God's hand all over it. We talked about how we had told the Lord that we wanted an "adventure", to which my beloved said to me, "well, next time, let's be SPECIFIC!!" So true, but it seems that we forgot to clarify once again.
It started last week when Don went in to reserve another month at the nice RV park by Kyle and Kristin. He came back with a buncha not-good news and some good news, which helped out the not-good. Seems that the park was not available for the next 29 days. W could pay for a few days at a time, but that becomes prohibitively expensive, but thanks to a couple of concerts (thanks a whole lot, Alan Jackson and Will Farrell), every weekend was sold out through August 28. BUT! On the way back from the office, bearing the burden of bad news he would have to tell to his wife, Don got a voicemail from the manager here at Golden Village offering the free week. God's timing. God's sense of humor.
We opted to stay in the parking lot for four nights - for free - then come out here to Hemet - for free - then back to the parking lot - for free. Do you detect a theme? Yes, free is good. Unfortunately, however, free usually comes with some drawbacks - which is generally why they are free.
Our first night was Thursday, and nice and quiet in an all but empty lot. This parking lot is next to the RV park, and across two large parking lots from Pechanga Casino, and is often the spot for RVers looking for a free spot for the night (or four) and long haul truckers looking for a respite from the road. Thursday night had only us, plus a couple of random cars whose owners needed a parking spot for...?? So, it was so nice and quiet. Then we turned on our generator and that took care of that whole quiet thing. But, we needed power for our tv and satellite and microwave and all. They may call it dry camping, but it bears as much resemblance to actual camping as a chihuahua does to a Saint Bernard - both are dogs, but there the similarities end. So, there we were in our metaphorical Saint Bernard, shutting it all down late at night and sleeping oh-so-late the next day. Hey, this may not be so bad.
We got some work done Friday morning, then headed out for a movie ("The Help" - GO SEE IT). This was Friday. We returned to our parking lot and were reminded. This was F-R-I-D-A-Y. There was a sign before we even got there that told employees to park all around that Winnebago over there. Okay. So the sign didn't exactly say that, but it might as well have. We asked one of the many shuttle drivers scooting around the lot picking up and dropping off if there was anything special going on this very busy night. he laughed and pointed out, "It's Friday." Okay, so maybe living in Maui has made us forget the magic of Friday since days seem to blend into one another in island time. But then he said something even more ominous, "But tomorrow there's some kinda comedy show at the outdoor stage." DUH-DUH-DUUUUUUUH!! (that's scary music in case you didn't recognize the tune).
Friday night was pretty noisy, with employees getting into their vehicles and driving off in a loud hurry, so we didn't feel exactly refreshed Saturday morning. These weekend days are pretty rough for me anyway, and boredom goes off the charts. It's almost impossible to do anything that does not cost some severe buckage or have half a million people involved or both. But we did figure out something to do. We went to the library to donate books, the grocery store, and Starbucks. Okay, so maybe we spent more at Starbucks than we should, but, c'mon! Starbucks!! We returned to find almost nooooooooo parking. We ended up parking quite a ways away, but at least we were on pavement. The last of the RVers had to park on dirt, as well as the latecomers to either work, the concert, or general festivizing-and-money-losing at the casino. Don and I took our nightly walk around what used to be our rv park, and then watched the traffic cops keep people from running into each other as the concert ended. We figured that the cars in the parking lot would eventually leave, and they did. The 6p.m.-2a.m. shift was done, and these good, hard-working people went to their cars and headed for home, calling all kinds of well wishes to one another...with loud enthusiasm. The 8p.m.-4a.m. shift ended, and the whole thing from two hours earlier was repeated, with the added entertainment of somebody needing a jump - two car spaces from us. The rest of the night - brief though it was - ended in relative quiet. We managed to stay awake through church, thanks to anther on-fire and on-point message, and then spent the afternoon with Kyle, Kristin, and the grandkiddies watching golf (WOW! Whadda finish!!), doing laundry, then babysitting so Mommy and Daddy could go see a movie like actual grown-ups.
We were looking forward to a return to the quiet parking lot of the first night, only to find that the lot had not one, two, or three big rigs, but SEVEN - including one right next to us and so close I half expected to find him in our bathroom. Resigned to the snugness of the situation, and the prospect of an early morning diesel start-up mere inches from our ears. We contemplated not using our generator, given the close quarters, but then we realized that these truckers are used to all kinds of noise, so we fired that bad boy up - only to find it was less of Bad Boy than it was an old man with emphysema. It coughed, sputtered, and quit. Oh no. No microwave. No satellite. NO TELEVISION!!! Now we were roughing it. Well, at least in our minds. My husband took his distraught spouse on our nightly walk, both of us playing with the idea of pulling into the park for just a one night stay, or even driving out to Hemet to pull in waaaay early. But it was almost 11:00 at night, and it would be even crazier than our usual level of crazy. So, we walked back to our quiet, powerless motorhome, parked next to a big rig. As we approached our coach, two things struck us: all these huge trucks with their trailers of goods behind them looked straight out of "Cars". We seriously thought they looked like they were going to start chatting with one another. Who knows, but maybe they did when we were not around??? I told you!! We were sleep deprived!! The other thing was as we got to our door, we heard the satisfied and comfortable snoring of the driver of the rig next to us. It reminded me of who was out there moving products around the country so we have full grocery shelves. hmmmm... We quietly retired and added these good people to our prayers. In the morning - very early - all but two of the trucks left, one after the other. But instead of letting their powerful diesels idle and warm up, they each left right away and as quietly as is possible for behemoths like these. Thanks, guys - and no sarcasm in my voice.
So, here we are. Back in the desert. I have found myself thinking of the wandering Israelites, and wondering if ever the women were harping at their husbands to pull over and ask for directions. Can't you hear it?? "Hey, hubby, isn't this the same rock we passed two days ago? Look! It still has our boy's 'Shelimelech was here' on it!" But they had to wait for their directions from God, and so do we.
But we are being much more specific in our prayers...
Four months and two days ago, Don and I were taking our last drive (for a while) in our little jeep along the highway toward the airport in Kahului, Maui. Our hearts, of course, were pretty much in pieces, but we could see God's hand all over it. We talked about how we had told the Lord that we wanted an "adventure", to which my beloved said to me, "well, next time, let's be SPECIFIC!!" So true, but it seems that we forgot to clarify once again.
It started last week when Don went in to reserve another month at the nice RV park by Kyle and Kristin. He came back with a buncha not-good news and some good news, which helped out the not-good. Seems that the park was not available for the next 29 days. W could pay for a few days at a time, but that becomes prohibitively expensive, but thanks to a couple of concerts (thanks a whole lot, Alan Jackson and Will Farrell), every weekend was sold out through August 28. BUT! On the way back from the office, bearing the burden of bad news he would have to tell to his wife, Don got a voicemail from the manager here at Golden Village offering the free week. God's timing. God's sense of humor.
We opted to stay in the parking lot for four nights - for free - then come out here to Hemet - for free - then back to the parking lot - for free. Do you detect a theme? Yes, free is good. Unfortunately, however, free usually comes with some drawbacks - which is generally why they are free.
Our first night was Thursday, and nice and quiet in an all but empty lot. This parking lot is next to the RV park, and across two large parking lots from Pechanga Casino, and is often the spot for RVers looking for a free spot for the night (or four) and long haul truckers looking for a respite from the road. Thursday night had only us, plus a couple of random cars whose owners needed a parking spot for...?? So, it was so nice and quiet. Then we turned on our generator and that took care of that whole quiet thing. But, we needed power for our tv and satellite and microwave and all. They may call it dry camping, but it bears as much resemblance to actual camping as a chihuahua does to a Saint Bernard - both are dogs, but there the similarities end. So, there we were in our metaphorical Saint Bernard, shutting it all down late at night and sleeping oh-so-late the next day. Hey, this may not be so bad.
We got some work done Friday morning, then headed out for a movie ("The Help" - GO SEE IT). This was Friday. We returned to our parking lot and were reminded. This was F-R-I-D-A-Y. There was a sign before we even got there that told employees to park all around that Winnebago over there. Okay. So the sign didn't exactly say that, but it might as well have. We asked one of the many shuttle drivers scooting around the lot picking up and dropping off if there was anything special going on this very busy night. he laughed and pointed out, "It's Friday." Okay, so maybe living in Maui has made us forget the magic of Friday since days seem to blend into one another in island time. But then he said something even more ominous, "But tomorrow there's some kinda comedy show at the outdoor stage." DUH-DUH-DUUUUUUUH!! (that's scary music in case you didn't recognize the tune).
Friday night was pretty noisy, with employees getting into their vehicles and driving off in a loud hurry, so we didn't feel exactly refreshed Saturday morning. These weekend days are pretty rough for me anyway, and boredom goes off the charts. It's almost impossible to do anything that does not cost some severe buckage or have half a million people involved or both. But we did figure out something to do. We went to the library to donate books, the grocery store, and Starbucks. Okay, so maybe we spent more at Starbucks than we should, but, c'mon! Starbucks!! We returned to find almost nooooooooo parking. We ended up parking quite a ways away, but at least we were on pavement. The last of the RVers had to park on dirt, as well as the latecomers to either work, the concert, or general festivizing-and-money-losing at the casino. Don and I took our nightly walk around what used to be our rv park, and then watched the traffic cops keep people from running into each other as the concert ended. We figured that the cars in the parking lot would eventually leave, and they did. The 6p.m.-2a.m. shift was done, and these good, hard-working people went to their cars and headed for home, calling all kinds of well wishes to one another...with loud enthusiasm. The 8p.m.-4a.m. shift ended, and the whole thing from two hours earlier was repeated, with the added entertainment of somebody needing a jump - two car spaces from us. The rest of the night - brief though it was - ended in relative quiet. We managed to stay awake through church, thanks to anther on-fire and on-point message, and then spent the afternoon with Kyle, Kristin, and the grandkiddies watching golf (WOW! Whadda finish!!), doing laundry, then babysitting so Mommy and Daddy could go see a movie like actual grown-ups.
We were looking forward to a return to the quiet parking lot of the first night, only to find that the lot had not one, two, or three big rigs, but SEVEN - including one right next to us and so close I half expected to find him in our bathroom. Resigned to the snugness of the situation, and the prospect of an early morning diesel start-up mere inches from our ears. We contemplated not using our generator, given the close quarters, but then we realized that these truckers are used to all kinds of noise, so we fired that bad boy up - only to find it was less of Bad Boy than it was an old man with emphysema. It coughed, sputtered, and quit. Oh no. No microwave. No satellite. NO TELEVISION!!! Now we were roughing it. Well, at least in our minds. My husband took his distraught spouse on our nightly walk, both of us playing with the idea of pulling into the park for just a one night stay, or even driving out to Hemet to pull in waaaay early. But it was almost 11:00 at night, and it would be even crazier than our usual level of crazy. So, we walked back to our quiet, powerless motorhome, parked next to a big rig. As we approached our coach, two things struck us: all these huge trucks with their trailers of goods behind them looked straight out of "Cars". We seriously thought they looked like they were going to start chatting with one another. Who knows, but maybe they did when we were not around??? I told you!! We were sleep deprived!! The other thing was as we got to our door, we heard the satisfied and comfortable snoring of the driver of the rig next to us. It reminded me of who was out there moving products around the country so we have full grocery shelves. hmmmm... We quietly retired and added these good people to our prayers. In the morning - very early - all but two of the trucks left, one after the other. But instead of letting their powerful diesels idle and warm up, they each left right away and as quietly as is possible for behemoths like these. Thanks, guys - and no sarcasm in my voice.
So, here we are. Back in the desert. I have found myself thinking of the wandering Israelites, and wondering if ever the women were harping at their husbands to pull over and ask for directions. Can't you hear it?? "Hey, hubby, isn't this the same rock we passed two days ago? Look! It still has our boy's 'Shelimelech was here' on it!" But they had to wait for their directions from God, and so do we.
But we are being much more specific in our prayers...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Check Lists
My mom loved to make lists when I was a kid. She had her grocery lists, Christmas lists, and of course, her to-do lists. Mother would even add things to her list just so she could mark them off once she done said task that she hadn't made it on the list originally. She would tell me, her hard-headed, disorganized youngest, that making lists was a great way to get things done that you had to do. But, of course, being hard-headed and disorganized, and waaay cooler and smarter than my mom, I didn't think lists were important and refused.
And then I became a mom. Not only did I discover that lists were useful, I became near fanatic about them - just ask my kids. To increase my list mania, I started college when I was in my thirties. Kyle had just started first grade, Greg in third, John in fifth, Don....much further along. I added into my list addiction the love of a datebook - which held more lists. I guess that makes me a dual-diagnosis addict. But, it helped me get things done. In all those years, I didn't forget to feed my family nor show up to class in my jammies. Can't say that I would have had the same results without my lists and datebook.
A few years after I graduated, I started my own business. It started as a decorating business for parties and weddings. Now my lists had sub-lists, and countdown schedules, to boot! And my datebook. You can ask my partner, Autumn, if I ever functioned without without it. Misplacing the list could leave me in a state of disorientation with serious tremors. Tell me you haven't seen that on "Intervention"! Anyhow, Mother was right and lists help things along.
Unfortunately, I have been using a mental to-do list with our sojourn here, and while lists are one of my best things, God does not use check lists. I can't imagine Him, as He was putting the universe together, with a enormous clipboard and pencil..."Okay, stars - check, planets -check, check, check - wait a minute, let's rethink the who planet thing for Pluto...." But even if the Lord had His own type of to-do list, it wouldn't look anything like mine.
Like I said, I must admit to succumbing to the temptation of thinking that I know why God brought us here. I have never,ever limited God's unlimited power to do whatever He chooses. There is NOTHING impossible for our Lord and Creator. But there is a reason we talk about God's WILL be done. His will. His intent. My trouble is that I think that I can figure out His intent. Now that isn't just cheeky, it's downright foolish. I am told over and over in Scripture that my ways are not God's ways, and vice versa. Yet...
The first few weeks of being here, we did Autumn's wedding, Greg's graduation, helped with a second wedding, worked at a marriage retreat, and babysat a few thousand times. Check Check Check Check and Check. Can we go home now? We attended a memorial service for a woman dear to me since childhood. We caught up with some dear Missionary friends, and all the friends who support them. We visited my mom in La Mesa and Don's mom in Arizona. Check Check. Now!?!? I finished writing a novel - which I had been working on since the Carter Administration. Okay, we're good now, Lord, right??!! But....we're still here.
What we, in our finite brains fail to remember is that God's brain is infinite. He is not bound by linear thinking, nor constrained by dates and deadlines. Without a doubt, he has things that He wants us to do - He designed us for "things" - but mostly what He wants is our love, trust, and obedience. Those last two are the real bugaboos. To trust Him means to keep taking one step in front of the other - sometimes on water. To obey Him means to do what He says - even though it is seldom easy or fun. And the combination of those two frustrates the dickens outa me. I am willing to do whatever tasks He says, if God would only tell me what they were. I would trust better if I knew what lay ahead and how much longer we will be here. I would be so much better at getting things done to get us back home, if God would just show me the checklist.
And then I became a mom. Not only did I discover that lists were useful, I became near fanatic about them - just ask my kids. To increase my list mania, I started college when I was in my thirties. Kyle had just started first grade, Greg in third, John in fifth, Don....much further along. I added into my list addiction the love of a datebook - which held more lists. I guess that makes me a dual-diagnosis addict. But, it helped me get things done. In all those years, I didn't forget to feed my family nor show up to class in my jammies. Can't say that I would have had the same results without my lists and datebook.
A few years after I graduated, I started my own business. It started as a decorating business for parties and weddings. Now my lists had sub-lists, and countdown schedules, to boot! And my datebook. You can ask my partner, Autumn, if I ever functioned without without it. Misplacing the list could leave me in a state of disorientation with serious tremors. Tell me you haven't seen that on "Intervention"! Anyhow, Mother was right and lists help things along.
Unfortunately, I have been using a mental to-do list with our sojourn here, and while lists are one of my best things, God does not use check lists. I can't imagine Him, as He was putting the universe together, with a enormous clipboard and pencil..."Okay, stars - check, planets -check, check, check - wait a minute, let's rethink the who planet thing for Pluto...." But even if the Lord had His own type of to-do list, it wouldn't look anything like mine.
Like I said, I must admit to succumbing to the temptation of thinking that I know why God brought us here. I have never,ever limited God's unlimited power to do whatever He chooses. There is NOTHING impossible for our Lord and Creator. But there is a reason we talk about God's WILL be done. His will. His intent. My trouble is that I think that I can figure out His intent. Now that isn't just cheeky, it's downright foolish. I am told over and over in Scripture that my ways are not God's ways, and vice versa. Yet...
The first few weeks of being here, we did Autumn's wedding, Greg's graduation, helped with a second wedding, worked at a marriage retreat, and babysat a few thousand times. Check Check Check Check and Check. Can we go home now? We attended a memorial service for a woman dear to me since childhood. We caught up with some dear Missionary friends, and all the friends who support them. We visited my mom in La Mesa and Don's mom in Arizona. Check Check. Now!?!? I finished writing a novel - which I had been working on since the Carter Administration. Okay, we're good now, Lord, right??!! But....we're still here.
What we, in our finite brains fail to remember is that God's brain is infinite. He is not bound by linear thinking, nor constrained by dates and deadlines. Without a doubt, he has things that He wants us to do - He designed us for "things" - but mostly what He wants is our love, trust, and obedience. Those last two are the real bugaboos. To trust Him means to keep taking one step in front of the other - sometimes on water. To obey Him means to do what He says - even though it is seldom easy or fun. And the combination of those two frustrates the dickens outa me. I am willing to do whatever tasks He says, if God would only tell me what they were. I would trust better if I knew what lay ahead and how much longer we will be here. I would be so much better at getting things done to get us back home, if God would just show me the checklist.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Looking Forward and Looking Back
I almost titled this "Looking Forward TO Looking Back", but that seemed to be a little snarky and ungrateful. But then again, I have big moments of snark and ingratitude, so perhaps....
Today is kind of a momentous anniversary for Don and me - two years ago today we took off from San Diego on our Big Adventure. Who knew that the adjective "big" would be such and understatement? Well....actually, God did. And He kept it quiet. But then again, had He told us, would we have done it? Likely not.
Two years ago we packed up the motorhome with everything that didn't go into big shipping crates for what turned out to be a slow boat to...Maui. You might be thinking that there would have been plenty of room in the RV because we would be smart enough to send all of our stuff in shipping crates. Well, pal, you obviously overestimate our smartness. We were up to our armpits with things that we (read: Denise) KNEW we would need before our stuff got there. There was enough room for Don to drive the motorhome, but FloJo had to be on his lap and I had to lay across the dashboard. Okay. Not really. Sometimes FloJo and I switched places.
But the adventure began, and after wandering the southwest for three weeks, and then a few more days in Portland (yes, it makes sense. kinda), we set our feet down on Maui on September 1, 2009 - not as happy and excited tourists, but as happy but slightly terrified pilgrims. To say nothing was quite what we expected is yet another crazy understatement. We thought we'd have a few days to be tourists, but Don actually hit the ground running as a realtor. Okay, stop laughing those of you who have seen my husband run. It's a METAPHOR, people!! Point being, he started his real estate work with Keller-Williams immediately.
We also found a car and a home in very short order, and started attending our new church home, Calvary Chapel Westside, in Lahaina. What we didn't expect was to fall in love so very quickly with the people of CCW. Within a month, Don had been to a "Meat Fest" BBQ with the men, and I had been to a breakfast with the ladies. Within the same month, Greg arrived with FloJo, and shortly after, we had our new pastor and his wife and daughter over for dinner. Of course, our stuff hadn't arrived yet, and the dining room set we had bought only had four chairs, so Steve and Kim (the pastor and missus) had to bring their own silverware and ended up sitting on two office chairs that we had acquired. It was during that dinner that we asked what we could do, Steve told us "show up", which we promised to do, but asked about more. We ended up taking over the sale of the CCW merchandise at our service down at the park, fondly dubbed by Steve, Calvary Contraband. And so it began, in earnest.
The things that amazed us, was what was hard, was harder than expected. But what was good, was beyond what we ever could have imagined. We found ourselves sort of blindsided in some less than straight forward dealings in Don's business, but blessed beyond measure by the people who lovingly befriended us. Some of the foods we were used to were either very expensive or we couldn't find it (do NOT buy jicama in Hawaii. Don't say I didn't warn you), but we indulged endlessly
in fresh papaya, oyster mushrooms, and fish like monchong, opah, ono, and mahi mahi so fresh that it hadn't even been missed by its fishy friends yet. We didn't make it into the water as often as I hoped, but every day off was a little Maui vacation. And then there is the weather. And the snorkeling. And weather. And the trees. And the weather. And the whales. oh, and the WEATHER!! People think that perfection can be monotonous. To them I say.....go ahead, BORE ME!!!!
So, when we left, it was by far the hardest thing we have ever done. There was no choice. But then again, if God had simply asked us if we wouldn't mind leaving this place and people we love to return to a place that makes me nuts for an indefinite period of time for an unknown reason, would either of us popped up and said, "Here are we, Lord! Send us!" ? I don't think so. We are humbled to know so many who have done just such things in service to God, but we needed more...convincing.
But, lest you think we've been all in sackcloth and ashes, we have not. We have been to weddings, a graduation, a funeral, and a getaway. We have traveled within our trip, and have had multiple mini-adventures within this bigger one. But, by far and a way, the biggest treat and consolation has been the time with family here. Okay. Let's be real. The grandbabies. Yeah, yeah, our kids are awesome and all, but the have been walking and talking for quite some time and I fear may have already peaked on the cuteness scale. Josh and Amber have areas of cute they haven't even discovered yet! Amber is losing her baby roundness and showing signs of being the same lovely woman as her mother - but is every bit the little pistol as her dad. Joshua is getting funnier every day, and has become this jock of the toddler set, loving to throw anything that even slightly resembles a ball and also loves to jump into loving arms at the pool or off the couch. We all need to take turns at that one. After Josh's last visit to the pool with Grammy and Grampy, poor Grammy and Grampy needed a jacuzzi-y. But hearing them squeal their excitement every time we show up (talk about an ego boost!) brings us great joy. The fun thing is that once we return to Maui, we still get to see them on skype and they can squeal online!! And blow out speakers!!!
So, at this anniversary, how do we feel looking back? Believe it or not, we wouldn't change a thing. Missteps that we may have made, we won't make again. The painful separation only makes us appreciate those folks more. And we pray, above all, that what we have gone through and how God has been there ALWAYS, will serve as a witness to God's abundant love and mercy. Just like any parent, our Heavenly Father's love sometimes means disappointment and pain for His children - but it is never, ever capricious or mean-spirited. God has a way of pushing us to the wall to show that we don't do this ourselves. What God can do compared to what we can do is like comparing Michaelangelo's David to a preschooler's sugar and flour relief map of Nebraska. Please do not read this as a glowing testimony of Don''s and my endlessly smiling Hallmark channel faith. uh-uh. I struggle with doubt, meltdowns, hissy fits, fears, ya-gotta-be-kiddin'-God moments, and trying to give God advice.
When are we going back? As I told a young friend who asked that very question, perhaps soon, but when God is your travel agent, you had just be ready to go on very short notice. Just ask the Israelites. So, we pray for the Lord to let us go back home to Maui. And waiting, again, for God to say "yes."
Today is kind of a momentous anniversary for Don and me - two years ago today we took off from San Diego on our Big Adventure. Who knew that the adjective "big" would be such and understatement? Well....actually, God did. And He kept it quiet. But then again, had He told us, would we have done it? Likely not.
Two years ago we packed up the motorhome with everything that didn't go into big shipping crates for what turned out to be a slow boat to...Maui. You might be thinking that there would have been plenty of room in the RV because we would be smart enough to send all of our stuff in shipping crates. Well, pal, you obviously overestimate our smartness. We were up to our armpits with things that we (read: Denise) KNEW we would need before our stuff got there. There was enough room for Don to drive the motorhome, but FloJo had to be on his lap and I had to lay across the dashboard. Okay. Not really. Sometimes FloJo and I switched places.
But the adventure began, and after wandering the southwest for three weeks, and then a few more days in Portland (yes, it makes sense. kinda), we set our feet down on Maui on September 1, 2009 - not as happy and excited tourists, but as happy but slightly terrified pilgrims. To say nothing was quite what we expected is yet another crazy understatement. We thought we'd have a few days to be tourists, but Don actually hit the ground running as a realtor. Okay, stop laughing those of you who have seen my husband run. It's a METAPHOR, people!! Point being, he started his real estate work with Keller-Williams immediately.
We also found a car and a home in very short order, and started attending our new church home, Calvary Chapel Westside, in Lahaina. What we didn't expect was to fall in love so very quickly with the people of CCW. Within a month, Don had been to a "Meat Fest" BBQ with the men, and I had been to a breakfast with the ladies. Within the same month, Greg arrived with FloJo, and shortly after, we had our new pastor and his wife and daughter over for dinner. Of course, our stuff hadn't arrived yet, and the dining room set we had bought only had four chairs, so Steve and Kim (the pastor and missus) had to bring their own silverware and ended up sitting on two office chairs that we had acquired. It was during that dinner that we asked what we could do, Steve told us "show up", which we promised to do, but asked about more. We ended up taking over the sale of the CCW merchandise at our service down at the park, fondly dubbed by Steve, Calvary Contraband. And so it began, in earnest.
The things that amazed us, was what was hard, was harder than expected. But what was good, was beyond what we ever could have imagined. We found ourselves sort of blindsided in some less than straight forward dealings in Don's business, but blessed beyond measure by the people who lovingly befriended us. Some of the foods we were used to were either very expensive or we couldn't find it (do NOT buy jicama in Hawaii. Don't say I didn't warn you), but we indulged endlessly
in fresh papaya, oyster mushrooms, and fish like monchong, opah, ono, and mahi mahi so fresh that it hadn't even been missed by its fishy friends yet. We didn't make it into the water as often as I hoped, but every day off was a little Maui vacation. And then there is the weather. And the snorkeling. And weather. And the trees. And the weather. And the whales. oh, and the WEATHER!! People think that perfection can be monotonous. To them I say.....go ahead, BORE ME!!!!
So, when we left, it was by far the hardest thing we have ever done. There was no choice. But then again, if God had simply asked us if we wouldn't mind leaving this place and people we love to return to a place that makes me nuts for an indefinite period of time for an unknown reason, would either of us popped up and said, "Here are we, Lord! Send us!" ? I don't think so. We are humbled to know so many who have done just such things in service to God, but we needed more...convincing.
But, lest you think we've been all in sackcloth and ashes, we have not. We have been to weddings, a graduation, a funeral, and a getaway. We have traveled within our trip, and have had multiple mini-adventures within this bigger one. But, by far and a way, the biggest treat and consolation has been the time with family here. Okay. Let's be real. The grandbabies. Yeah, yeah, our kids are awesome and all, but the have been walking and talking for quite some time and I fear may have already peaked on the cuteness scale. Josh and Amber have areas of cute they haven't even discovered yet! Amber is losing her baby roundness and showing signs of being the same lovely woman as her mother - but is every bit the little pistol as her dad. Joshua is getting funnier every day, and has become this jock of the toddler set, loving to throw anything that even slightly resembles a ball and also loves to jump into loving arms at the pool or off the couch. We all need to take turns at that one. After Josh's last visit to the pool with Grammy and Grampy, poor Grammy and Grampy needed a jacuzzi-y. But hearing them squeal their excitement every time we show up (talk about an ego boost!) brings us great joy. The fun thing is that once we return to Maui, we still get to see them on skype and they can squeal online!! And blow out speakers!!!
So, at this anniversary, how do we feel looking back? Believe it or not, we wouldn't change a thing. Missteps that we may have made, we won't make again. The painful separation only makes us appreciate those folks more. And we pray, above all, that what we have gone through and how God has been there ALWAYS, will serve as a witness to God's abundant love and mercy. Just like any parent, our Heavenly Father's love sometimes means disappointment and pain for His children - but it is never, ever capricious or mean-spirited. God has a way of pushing us to the wall to show that we don't do this ourselves. What God can do compared to what we can do is like comparing Michaelangelo's David to a preschooler's sugar and flour relief map of Nebraska. Please do not read this as a glowing testimony of Don''s and my endlessly smiling Hallmark channel faith. uh-uh. I struggle with doubt, meltdowns, hissy fits, fears, ya-gotta-be-kiddin'-God moments, and trying to give God advice.
When are we going back? As I told a young friend who asked that very question, perhaps soon, but when God is your travel agent, you had just be ready to go on very short notice. Just ask the Israelites. So, we pray for the Lord to let us go back home to Maui. And waiting, again, for God to say "yes."
Saturday, July 9, 2011
I'm Starting to Hate Willie Nelson...
"On the road again! (ner-ner ner-ner ner-ner) I can't believe we're on the road again! (ner-ner ner-ner ner) Late-ly my life has been moving with out end! I can't believe we're on the road again!
Okay. I guess you really have to be in my crazy head to get it, but still...SInce October, I think we have made nomads look positively sedentary. Let me summarize:
Kualapa-> Front Street-> Ka'anapali Shores-> John's Apartment-> Golden Village RV Resort-> Pechanga RV Resort-> Pechanga Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Lyndie Lane (K&K's place)-> Pechanga RV-> Lyndie Lane-> Pechanga Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Parking Lot-> Pechanga-> Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Prescott, AZ (Don's mom)-> John's Apartment-> Pechanga RV. I think I may have forgotten a trip or two to the parking lot, but you get the drift.
The thing about moving the motorhome is that you have to go through the same routine, whether moving 20 feet or 200 miles. Setup: jacks down, sideouts out, electricity connected, water connected, sewage connected, windows and vents opened, microwave plate in (learned that after not once but TWICE having these glass revolving plates launched out of the microwave and exploded on the floor, after Don hit a pothole or speed bump or giant possum or something), set clock on microwave, put out little coffee tables, take all the little jewelry boxes and pictures off the bed and set them on the counter, take my computer, keyboard, and mouse off the same bed, and set that up on what used to be the dinette, take the clothes pole out of the shower, put all the showery-girly-hair-producty stuff in all the right places, awning out, outdoor rugs out, chairs and tables out, coffee carafe into coffee maker, knives in knifeblock onto kitchen counter, range opened up, kettle on range, start up satellite and until recently, Don would have to take the back tv off the bed and set it up in its little cabinet. And then when we need to move somewhere, it all goes the other way. I know I've forgotten something. And, yes, I readily admit this is not even REMOTELY related to camping or roughing it. But, it is pretty annoying. But, God has blessed us by letting us by getting us a spot at Pechanga RV Park until August 12! Yay and praise God!!
But in the midst of all the looney moving, we have had some pretty fun travel adventures - most notably our recent trip to Prescott (rhymes with biscuit. Don't make me tell you again), Arizona. We had to have a few thousand things repaired on the rv so we left it in what we presumed to be capable hands - more on that later. We finally got on the road early afternoon - for what was estimated to be about a nine-plus hour jaunt into the high desert.
I still love a good road trip Don and I had a blast. And blast is what hit us when we got out of our safe little air conditioned vehicle in Needles, CA. It was 6:30 in the evening and the thermometer said 111. I think it may have understated it. I also think that the name "Needles" was inspired by the feeling one's eyeballs get when hitting this kind of furnace. Juxtaposed against this dry inferno is a lush green vein of trees lining the shimmering blue-green Colorado River, and I-40 runs next to it for a short distance before crossing over into Arizona. It was dusk when we scooted through Kingman, AZ, and just before leaving the outlying areas, it looked as though there was a dust storm ahead. Well, there was, but it was caused by two young men on their quad ATV's zooming right beside the freeway, creating quite the cloud of nearly opaque dust. About a week later, the Phoenix area would experience a massive dust storm called a haboob. The cause of this dust storm, however, were just boobs. The 40 also meets up with the much-storied Route 66, and if you have seen the Disney flik "Cars", you know the story of the little town of Radiator Springs which had been left virtually abandoned by the opening of the interstate. We sort of happened upon the little town that is the living, breathing Radiator Springs when, ummmm, shall we say....the iced tea we had started consuming back in Needles prevented us from making it all the way to Don's mom's house and we stopped, in a big ol' hurry, in the tiny, charming town of Seligman, Arizona. Yes, I can see that some of you know this place, being Route 66 fans and all. We hit it again on the way back so we could take pics of the REAL Doc and Mater!! Didn't find Lightning McQueen, though. Musta had a race. We finally rolled into Prescott about 11:00 that night, and it felt good.
Don's mom, Joann, lives in the same kind of independent living/retirement community called Las Fuentes, and we met a lot of very vibrant senior folks. We met one lady who was a very young 101, and her SON was in his early 80's! Joann even joked about how someone would say that their kids were coming to visit, and who would show up but some more old people! But it is a lovely place and it was great to be a little spoiled for 10 days.
The bigger adventure lay in our side trips and mini-adventures around the area. Our visit also happened to coincide with July 4th weekend, which is Prescott's big rodeo weekend, as well. Couldn't swing a limp lasso without hitting someone in a cowboy hat or a big truck pulling a horse trailer. Downtown Prescott has a really cool old town feeling, and we cruised along there and checked out some very nifty shops. Our personal favorite? Young's Farm Candy and Ice Cream where they have the crazy best and most unique flavors of candy and homemade ice cream. I paid a return visit the day before we left so I could send a sampling of their unique brittles and bark to my girlfriends back home in Maui. And if you CCW girls are reading this....yummies await at the next Bible Studies....
Our little mini-road trips took us north three different times. We set our sights on Sedona first, to catch up with the parents/new in-laws of the bride and groom, Autumn and Tarkus (look to one of my previous episodes). Tarkus' mom and stepdad, Holly and Robbie, live in a charming and peaceful house just blocks away from the charming and not-so-peaceful heart of Sedona. I think I kind of want to be these two when I grow up - except in Maui, not in the high (but gorgeous!) desert of Arizona. The both have young and creative hearts, with vibrant spirits to match. H&R treated the three of us to some of the best Mexican food I have had in quite a long time in - get ready for it - Tlaquepaque. Pronounce it. Dare ya. And you thought Hawaiian was challenging!!! Rough phonetics: tla (I know, those don't make a normal sound, but just go with it) -kay-pah-kay. Anyway, it is a cool set of shops, restaurants and galleries that I'm sure are inspired by something cool and historic, but I am woefully ignorant of its history. But suffice to say, the setting, the food, the company were surpassed only by the surrounding mountains and cliffs of layer cake in various shades of red, with tufts of dark green adding punches of contrast. We left Sedona and our friends with our hearts as full as our tummies!
Don and I shot back up north for a day at Grand Canyon. If you haven't ever been to see this overwhelming and enormous piece of God's artistry....WHY NOT!?!? It more than exceeds the hype, so no worries about being disappointed. It is considered the most visited National Park in the world - and I think that was just on the day we were there. It was right after the July 4th weekend, and there were still about 2,945,921 visitors making a long weekend out of it. We had observed some rather ominous clouds to the northeast during the drive there, and then heard the unmistakable deep rumble of distant thunder shortly after our arrival. It didn't take long for the rumbles became cracks and boom, with the accompanying strobes of lightning - followed by the beginnings of a gully-whomper (sorry - left over form Rodeo Days). We managed to get under a shelter before it really opened up. Unfortunately, it was an short A-frame between two rows of restrooms, and open at either end. About 3 dozen more folks came into join us as the skies completely opened. Already a small space, it was made all the smaller by the wind blowing in sheets of rain on one end. We were all so soaked and ridiculous that pretty much everyone was laughing - at each other. Once the rain cleared, the day was ours to just explore and wonder. I never get tired of it. I have been blessed to fly over this amazing place a couple of times in my life, and one can almost see the hands of God pulling the land apart, exposing more of the ribbon candy cliffs and the powerful Colorado River looking like nothing more than a tiny deep sea-green thread. It is the very definition of Awesome.
One of the most astonishing thing about our one-day visit is the multiples elk-sightings!! Now, this would not mean much to anyone but those who know of Don's and my remarkable record of oh-fer-768 on wildlife sightings - humpbacks, dolphins, and barracudas excepted. The great thing about these elk is that they are so accustomed to gawkers like us that they don't move anywhere, even when the rangers do the woop-woop with their sirens to shoo us gawkers along. So, after a wonderful day of rain and elk and zillions of fellow awe-inspired canyon-lookers, we headed back to Prescott, more thunderstorms and cah-rrrraaaaaaazy lightning straight over us
We took another quick trip back to the area close to Sedona to meet up with Don's sister and brother-in-law as they headed off on a long road trip to Wisconsin. What makes this note-worthy is that this was after that mind-boggling sand tsunami that rolled over Greater Metropolitan Phoenix. Kathy and Howard live in the Southeast corner of that particular area, and like literally millions of other Phoenixians (yes, I made that up), they were trying to get 17 layers of desert of their vehicle. When we headed out of Prescott to meet them, we noticed that there was a decidedly thick haze, of the dust variety. This is over 100 miles away. Yikes. Every car - including ours - had a mottled layer of this dust, with some thicker than others. Yes, this was some big haboooooob!!
The actual July 4th (yes, I'm aware that I am out of chronological order) started with hearing a clorp-ca-clorp-ca-clorp outside the window. I finally caught sight of the source: a buff-colored Belgian Draft Horse pulling a wagon filled with residents of Las Fuentes and their guests! Sweet! The first loads were kind of full, but then we saw the wagon with one lone lady and her walker, so we figured the crowds had thinned. Sure enough, we got the last ride of the morning, and had to share with no one! Double sweet! We were enjoying our very relaxing ride behind the mellow Edward the Horse (Mr. Ed!) when around one corner we came horse-to-headlights with a big, loud garbage truck. This loud smelly beast cause our quiet, not-as-smelly beast start skittering around quite nervously. We three, in turn, felt our insides start skittering around just as nervously. I replayed every When-mellow-beast-go-nuts video I had ever seen and made the decision that should Edward go from Riverdance to Chariots of Fire I would leap protectively on my diminutive mother-in-law, and prayed that my husband would then leap protectively on both of us. Fortunately, the brave resolve of either/both of us was not tested, as one of our drivers led Edward the horsey quietly past the noisy, trash-eating behemoth - only to have us come horse-to-headlights again at the front of the building. It was our time to get out. We did.
After escaping being the next you-tube feature about crazed horses and wagons, we, and the others of Las Fuentes, were entertained by cloggers. No, these are not people who stuff wrong things down potties or drains, but country-style tap dancers. Very energetic and fun! I loved the little girl who did her solo dance to Lady Gaga. Cloggin' to Gaga. What a great way to celebrate this country!!!
And then, we were off to the highlight of the day. While we were headed to a July 4th BBQ at a Lavender Farm about 30 miles away, and that was fun, that wasn't the highlight of which I speak. Not even close. Our treat for the day came in the person of a proper British lady named, Grace - Joann's best friend. Having heard so much about her from Don's mom, we were eager to meet her. Since we were giving her a ride to the dinner, we would have that blessing! Now, how to describe the lovely Miss Grace....picture, if you will, a mash-up of Mrs. Doubtfire, Queen Elizabeth II, and Dame Edna. Rather tall, a shock of white hair, and a lively face was my first impression of the 80-something-year-old - and than we heard her speak. Her speaking voice has more pitch and volume changes than Jay Leno. Grace and Joann chatted like schoolgirls in the back seat while Don and I were just enjoying the entertainment. We headed north on US 89 to Chino Valley - the location of the lavender farm and dinner party. As we headed into the more open country areas on our way, Grace said that we should be looking for....and she couldn't quite remember what the animal was, but it was kind of a deer....but not a deer....but smaller.... Having grown up on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, and then grown semi-old on watching Animal Planet and Nat Geo, I said "do you mean Pronghorn Antelope?" "oh, no no no, that's not it," Grace assured me. A few miles more of Grace trying to remember the exact name of the animal, I offered again, "gee, it sounds like a pronghorn antelope." Suddenly, at a decibel level normally reserved for Heavy Metal bands, came from the back seat "AUNTILOOP!!! YEEES!! THAT'S IT!! AUNTILOOP!!" My beloved demonstrated exceptional control of the car and kept us on the road despite the heart stoppage and intense ringing in his ears. So, we now knew to look for auntiloop- uh, antelope to and from our lovely dinner at the lovely lavender farm. We never saw any, but the enthusiastic search made the trip pure joy! We arrived back at the gate for Grace's community, and it was then she realized she had forgotten her gate clicker. She also realized that the majority of her neighbors were at the community clubhouse 4th of July party. After a few profanities (somehow, when they are spoken with proper British enunciation, they are just not as offensive), and a few attempts at finding one neighbor's number on the directory, we managed to get buzzed in and take this wonderful lady to her home. Lest I give the impression that Grace is some kind of caricature of a British Lady, I should tell you that she was once a tennis player of championship caliber and she was a Traffic Safety Engineer. Grace is quite something. And she was, indeed, the highlight of our adventures!
Our return home was just as much fun - but not so fun was the phone call from the RV place where our coach was supposed to be READY!! Essentially, Don's side of the conversation was like this, "Really? What about the shower. Not til when? Well, how about the jacks and sideout? Uh-huh. How much? What about the inverter? Really. How much? So you not only need my left kidney, but my wife's as well." Yeah. Fortunately, our son opened his comfy apartment, and 6 days after the coach was supposed to be done, we picked it up with only half of the stuff done. Egad. But, PRAISE GOD, Don was able to convince these yahoos that we really shouldn't pay for stuff that wasn't done. Imagine that. We now have called on our favorite mobile RV guy to fix all these things that were going to cost us a few internal organs and a couple gallons of blood. We can actually pay this wonderful guy and stay financially - and physically - intact. God is sooo good.
So, we get to sit still for a while these things get handled. I can get the last chapter of my novel finished. Maybe I can throw some paint on these canvases I've had for about three months. But not tonight. I have to stop now. I bet your eyes are happy to hear that.
Okay. I guess you really have to be in my crazy head to get it, but still...SInce October, I think we have made nomads look positively sedentary. Let me summarize:
Kualapa-> Front Street-> Ka'anapali Shores-> John's Apartment-> Golden Village RV Resort-> Pechanga RV Resort-> Pechanga Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Lyndie Lane (K&K's place)-> Pechanga RV-> Lyndie Lane-> Pechanga Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Parking Lot-> Pechanga-> Parking Lot-> Pechanga RV-> Prescott, AZ (Don's mom)-> John's Apartment-> Pechanga RV. I think I may have forgotten a trip or two to the parking lot, but you get the drift.
The thing about moving the motorhome is that you have to go through the same routine, whether moving 20 feet or 200 miles. Setup: jacks down, sideouts out, electricity connected, water connected, sewage connected, windows and vents opened, microwave plate in (learned that after not once but TWICE having these glass revolving plates launched out of the microwave and exploded on the floor, after Don hit a pothole or speed bump or giant possum or something), set clock on microwave, put out little coffee tables, take all the little jewelry boxes and pictures off the bed and set them on the counter, take my computer, keyboard, and mouse off the same bed, and set that up on what used to be the dinette, take the clothes pole out of the shower, put all the showery-girly-hair-producty stuff in all the right places, awning out, outdoor rugs out, chairs and tables out, coffee carafe into coffee maker, knives in knifeblock onto kitchen counter, range opened up, kettle on range, start up satellite and until recently, Don would have to take the back tv off the bed and set it up in its little cabinet. And then when we need to move somewhere, it all goes the other way. I know I've forgotten something. And, yes, I readily admit this is not even REMOTELY related to camping or roughing it. But, it is pretty annoying. But, God has blessed us by letting us by getting us a spot at Pechanga RV Park until August 12! Yay and praise God!!
But in the midst of all the looney moving, we have had some pretty fun travel adventures - most notably our recent trip to Prescott (rhymes with biscuit. Don't make me tell you again), Arizona. We had to have a few thousand things repaired on the rv so we left it in what we presumed to be capable hands - more on that later. We finally got on the road early afternoon - for what was estimated to be about a nine-plus hour jaunt into the high desert.
I still love a good road trip Don and I had a blast. And blast is what hit us when we got out of our safe little air conditioned vehicle in Needles, CA. It was 6:30 in the evening and the thermometer said 111. I think it may have understated it. I also think that the name "Needles" was inspired by the feeling one's eyeballs get when hitting this kind of furnace. Juxtaposed against this dry inferno is a lush green vein of trees lining the shimmering blue-green Colorado River, and I-40 runs next to it for a short distance before crossing over into Arizona. It was dusk when we scooted through Kingman, AZ, and just before leaving the outlying areas, it looked as though there was a dust storm ahead. Well, there was, but it was caused by two young men on their quad ATV's zooming right beside the freeway, creating quite the cloud of nearly opaque dust. About a week later, the Phoenix area would experience a massive dust storm called a haboob. The cause of this dust storm, however, were just boobs. The 40 also meets up with the much-storied Route 66, and if you have seen the Disney flik "Cars", you know the story of the little town of Radiator Springs which had been left virtually abandoned by the opening of the interstate. We sort of happened upon the little town that is the living, breathing Radiator Springs when, ummmm, shall we say....the iced tea we had started consuming back in Needles prevented us from making it all the way to Don's mom's house and we stopped, in a big ol' hurry, in the tiny, charming town of Seligman, Arizona. Yes, I can see that some of you know this place, being Route 66 fans and all. We hit it again on the way back so we could take pics of the REAL Doc and Mater!! Didn't find Lightning McQueen, though. Musta had a race. We finally rolled into Prescott about 11:00 that night, and it felt good.
Don's mom, Joann, lives in the same kind of independent living/retirement community called Las Fuentes, and we met a lot of very vibrant senior folks. We met one lady who was a very young 101, and her SON was in his early 80's! Joann even joked about how someone would say that their kids were coming to visit, and who would show up but some more old people! But it is a lovely place and it was great to be a little spoiled for 10 days.
The bigger adventure lay in our side trips and mini-adventures around the area. Our visit also happened to coincide with July 4th weekend, which is Prescott's big rodeo weekend, as well. Couldn't swing a limp lasso without hitting someone in a cowboy hat or a big truck pulling a horse trailer. Downtown Prescott has a really cool old town feeling, and we cruised along there and checked out some very nifty shops. Our personal favorite? Young's Farm Candy and Ice Cream where they have the crazy best and most unique flavors of candy and homemade ice cream. I paid a return visit the day before we left so I could send a sampling of their unique brittles and bark to my girlfriends back home in Maui. And if you CCW girls are reading this....yummies await at the next Bible Studies....
Our little mini-road trips took us north three different times. We set our sights on Sedona first, to catch up with the parents/new in-laws of the bride and groom, Autumn and Tarkus (look to one of my previous episodes). Tarkus' mom and stepdad, Holly and Robbie, live in a charming and peaceful house just blocks away from the charming and not-so-peaceful heart of Sedona. I think I kind of want to be these two when I grow up - except in Maui, not in the high (but gorgeous!) desert of Arizona. The both have young and creative hearts, with vibrant spirits to match. H&R treated the three of us to some of the best Mexican food I have had in quite a long time in - get ready for it - Tlaquepaque. Pronounce it. Dare ya. And you thought Hawaiian was challenging!!! Rough phonetics: tla (I know, those don't make a normal sound, but just go with it) -kay-pah-kay. Anyway, it is a cool set of shops, restaurants and galleries that I'm sure are inspired by something cool and historic, but I am woefully ignorant of its history. But suffice to say, the setting, the food, the company were surpassed only by the surrounding mountains and cliffs of layer cake in various shades of red, with tufts of dark green adding punches of contrast. We left Sedona and our friends with our hearts as full as our tummies!
Don and I shot back up north for a day at Grand Canyon. If you haven't ever been to see this overwhelming and enormous piece of God's artistry....WHY NOT!?!? It more than exceeds the hype, so no worries about being disappointed. It is considered the most visited National Park in the world - and I think that was just on the day we were there. It was right after the July 4th weekend, and there were still about 2,945,921 visitors making a long weekend out of it. We had observed some rather ominous clouds to the northeast during the drive there, and then heard the unmistakable deep rumble of distant thunder shortly after our arrival. It didn't take long for the rumbles became cracks and boom, with the accompanying strobes of lightning - followed by the beginnings of a gully-whomper (sorry - left over form Rodeo Days). We managed to get under a shelter before it really opened up. Unfortunately, it was an short A-frame between two rows of restrooms, and open at either end. About 3 dozen more folks came into join us as the skies completely opened. Already a small space, it was made all the smaller by the wind blowing in sheets of rain on one end. We were all so soaked and ridiculous that pretty much everyone was laughing - at each other. Once the rain cleared, the day was ours to just explore and wonder. I never get tired of it. I have been blessed to fly over this amazing place a couple of times in my life, and one can almost see the hands of God pulling the land apart, exposing more of the ribbon candy cliffs and the powerful Colorado River looking like nothing more than a tiny deep sea-green thread. It is the very definition of Awesome.
One of the most astonishing thing about our one-day visit is the multiples elk-sightings!! Now, this would not mean much to anyone but those who know of Don's and my remarkable record of oh-fer-768 on wildlife sightings - humpbacks, dolphins, and barracudas excepted. The great thing about these elk is that they are so accustomed to gawkers like us that they don't move anywhere, even when the rangers do the woop-woop with their sirens to shoo us gawkers along. So, after a wonderful day of rain and elk and zillions of fellow awe-inspired canyon-lookers, we headed back to Prescott, more thunderstorms and cah-rrrraaaaaaazy lightning straight over us
We took another quick trip back to the area close to Sedona to meet up with Don's sister and brother-in-law as they headed off on a long road trip to Wisconsin. What makes this note-worthy is that this was after that mind-boggling sand tsunami that rolled over Greater Metropolitan Phoenix. Kathy and Howard live in the Southeast corner of that particular area, and like literally millions of other Phoenixians (yes, I made that up), they were trying to get 17 layers of desert of their vehicle. When we headed out of Prescott to meet them, we noticed that there was a decidedly thick haze, of the dust variety. This is over 100 miles away. Yikes. Every car - including ours - had a mottled layer of this dust, with some thicker than others. Yes, this was some big haboooooob!!
The actual July 4th (yes, I'm aware that I am out of chronological order) started with hearing a clorp-ca-clorp-ca-clorp outside the window. I finally caught sight of the source: a buff-colored Belgian Draft Horse pulling a wagon filled with residents of Las Fuentes and their guests! Sweet! The first loads were kind of full, but then we saw the wagon with one lone lady and her walker, so we figured the crowds had thinned. Sure enough, we got the last ride of the morning, and had to share with no one! Double sweet! We were enjoying our very relaxing ride behind the mellow Edward the Horse (Mr. Ed!) when around one corner we came horse-to-headlights with a big, loud garbage truck. This loud smelly beast cause our quiet, not-as-smelly beast start skittering around quite nervously. We three, in turn, felt our insides start skittering around just as nervously. I replayed every When-mellow-beast-go-nuts video I had ever seen and made the decision that should Edward go from Riverdance to Chariots of Fire I would leap protectively on my diminutive mother-in-law, and prayed that my husband would then leap protectively on both of us. Fortunately, the brave resolve of either/both of us was not tested, as one of our drivers led Edward the horsey quietly past the noisy, trash-eating behemoth - only to have us come horse-to-headlights again at the front of the building. It was our time to get out. We did.
After escaping being the next you-tube feature about crazed horses and wagons, we, and the others of Las Fuentes, were entertained by cloggers. No, these are not people who stuff wrong things down potties or drains, but country-style tap dancers. Very energetic and fun! I loved the little girl who did her solo dance to Lady Gaga. Cloggin' to Gaga. What a great way to celebrate this country!!!
And then, we were off to the highlight of the day. While we were headed to a July 4th BBQ at a Lavender Farm about 30 miles away, and that was fun, that wasn't the highlight of which I speak. Not even close. Our treat for the day came in the person of a proper British lady named, Grace - Joann's best friend. Having heard so much about her from Don's mom, we were eager to meet her. Since we were giving her a ride to the dinner, we would have that blessing! Now, how to describe the lovely Miss Grace....picture, if you will, a mash-up of Mrs. Doubtfire, Queen Elizabeth II, and Dame Edna. Rather tall, a shock of white hair, and a lively face was my first impression of the 80-something-year-old - and than we heard her speak. Her speaking voice has more pitch and volume changes than Jay Leno. Grace and Joann chatted like schoolgirls in the back seat while Don and I were just enjoying the entertainment. We headed north on US 89 to Chino Valley - the location of the lavender farm and dinner party. As we headed into the more open country areas on our way, Grace said that we should be looking for....and she couldn't quite remember what the animal was, but it was kind of a deer....but not a deer....but smaller.... Having grown up on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, and then grown semi-old on watching Animal Planet and Nat Geo, I said "do you mean Pronghorn Antelope?" "oh, no no no, that's not it," Grace assured me. A few miles more of Grace trying to remember the exact name of the animal, I offered again, "gee, it sounds like a pronghorn antelope." Suddenly, at a decibel level normally reserved for Heavy Metal bands, came from the back seat "AUNTILOOP!!! YEEES!! THAT'S IT!! AUNTILOOP!!" My beloved demonstrated exceptional control of the car and kept us on the road despite the heart stoppage and intense ringing in his ears. So, we now knew to look for auntiloop- uh, antelope to and from our lovely dinner at the lovely lavender farm. We never saw any, but the enthusiastic search made the trip pure joy! We arrived back at the gate for Grace's community, and it was then she realized she had forgotten her gate clicker. She also realized that the majority of her neighbors were at the community clubhouse 4th of July party. After a few profanities (somehow, when they are spoken with proper British enunciation, they are just not as offensive), and a few attempts at finding one neighbor's number on the directory, we managed to get buzzed in and take this wonderful lady to her home. Lest I give the impression that Grace is some kind of caricature of a British Lady, I should tell you that she was once a tennis player of championship caliber and she was a Traffic Safety Engineer. Grace is quite something. And she was, indeed, the highlight of our adventures!
Our return home was just as much fun - but not so fun was the phone call from the RV place where our coach was supposed to be READY!! Essentially, Don's side of the conversation was like this, "Really? What about the shower. Not til when? Well, how about the jacks and sideout? Uh-huh. How much? What about the inverter? Really. How much? So you not only need my left kidney, but my wife's as well." Yeah. Fortunately, our son opened his comfy apartment, and 6 days after the coach was supposed to be done, we picked it up with only half of the stuff done. Egad. But, PRAISE GOD, Don was able to convince these yahoos that we really shouldn't pay for stuff that wasn't done. Imagine that. We now have called on our favorite mobile RV guy to fix all these things that were going to cost us a few internal organs and a couple gallons of blood. We can actually pay this wonderful guy and stay financially - and physically - intact. God is sooo good.
So, we get to sit still for a while these things get handled. I can get the last chapter of my novel finished. Maybe I can throw some paint on these canvases I've had for about three months. But not tonight. I have to stop now. I bet your eyes are happy to hear that.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
...and in This Corner....
In Genesis 32:22-32, we read about the wrestling match of the...well...forever. Jacob wrestles with a "man", who, in actuality, is THE MAN - God Himself. Talk about a mismatch. Mini-Me Would have a better chance against Andre the Giant. In verse 25, we are told that that after an all night bout, the "Man" discovered that He had not prevailed - in other words, they tussled to a draw. Right. God could have held Jacob away, like the big brother keeping a palm on the much littler brother's forehead, while the little guy whirls away like a windmill in a hurricane. God CHOSE to let Jacob wrestle with Him all night. Then God did something which might look a little spiteful at first glance: He touched Jacob's hip and it blew out of the socket. Wow. That's power. So, it's not as though the Lord had met His match. He just had His reasons for letting this mere man wrestle The Creator to a tie.
I've been feeling a bit like Jacob of late - not in the Father-of-Nations way, but in my own personal bout with the Lord. At times I have felt like He has had me in an impossible hold, but considering He could squoosh me like an ant, a half-nelson is not half-bad. He allows me to fuss and cry and whine and try to overpower Him and His will, in order to have a free and clear path to exercise my own. And I don't just want His permission, or even be pleased with His blessing. Nope. I want God to facilitate my wish list.
We are still kind of meandering here in Riverside County. We are here in our first choice for RV parks, but we may have to move out tomorrow for the weekend. Unfortunately, we can't go back to the cul-de-sac that the kids live on. Seems you have to have a permit from the city of Temecula. I found that out about a week ago when I was tappy-tapping away and one of Temecula's finest came along side to give me a ticket. The real corker was that my Don was out with Kyle previewing properties, and I don't know how to move the beast known as the motorhome. So, I looked pathetic enough to rate a one hour reprieve - enough time for me to make a fairly panicked call to my hubby, the captain of this ship, start packing up for moving, all the while having a SERIOUS chat with God. So, God let me wrestle with Him. Fortunately, Pechanga RV Park has a massive parking lot adjacent where they allow folks to park for a few days at a time, so we were covered. But I still insisted upon tussling with my Heavenly Father. It was a tough night, but the next day, I began to see His abundant mercy...again.
We did move in to the park the next day, but by then I was completely without voice, thanks to a nasty cough I had been entertaining for a week. Now, Don's glee notwithstanding, I had a class to teach at a marriage retreat in Palm Springs in five days. I texted my teaching partner, who immediately responded back that she had been hit in the head by a basketball - passed, ironically, by her own daughter - and now had a minor concussion. At this point, we both realized that it wasn't God we were wrestling, but the enemy himself. And he fights dirty. On top of the physical drama, we had to move out of the park again, because of the Temecula Wine and Balloon (the big hot air-I-wouldn't-ride-in-one-on-a-bet type, not the make-fun-animals type) Festival, and the place was sold out. So, Friday we packed up and moved back to the lot, then drove over the nearby mountains into Palm Springs, where all went beautifully!! Praise God! We came back on Sunday, moved back into the pretty park - and I began the tussle with God once again.
In my little head, I guess I thought that I had done all that God wanted me to do - I was at both weddings, made Gregory's graduation, and taught at the Marriage Getaway. "OH, AAAAABBAAAA FAAAAAATHER!!!!I'M AAAAALL DONE!!!!!" hmmmm.... I'm still here.... The wrestling resumes. I find myself wanting to know the exact end date - when we will be returning to our island home. I want to know exactly WHY al this happened in the first place. After all, had God let those deals close we could have afforded to come over here on our own, right!?!? But 55:8 says it clearly and succinctly: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways, declares the Lord." Huh. In other words, I won't be running for God too soon, and He won't be asking my opinion on how I think the world - even MY world - should be handled.
Remember Jacob getting his hip blown out of the socket by a mere pinkie touch of God? Of course you do. It was just five paragraphs earlier. God demonstrated His own power, as well as making Jacob walk with a hitch in his giddyup for the rest of his days. Even with all that, Jacob clung to the Lord, much as a three-year-old clings to her father's leg when she does not want to be separated from him. Jacob clung and would not let go until God had blessed him. God gave Jacob that, plus a new name - Israel. From him, a whole people sprung. Holy cats, that's some blessing. So, then what would be so hard about giving me what I want? Because, quite clearly, it is not in GOD'S plans for what He wants for me.........(sigh!)
Does this mean I will stop wrestling with God? I'd like to say that I will never do that again, but somehow that seems to lack sincerity. Or any possibility of being true. If anything, I would like to wrestle in order to cling closer to my heavenly Father. I would ask Him to give me more faith, and set my heart even more on fire for Him, so when He asks me to do something that is annoying or painful or stressful, I do it with joy, not whining. If I cling to Him, let it not be like that tempermental child who wants what she wants when she wants it. Let me simply cling with all my heart to the One who loves me.
I've been feeling a bit like Jacob of late - not in the Father-of-Nations way, but in my own personal bout with the Lord. At times I have felt like He has had me in an impossible hold, but considering He could squoosh me like an ant, a half-nelson is not half-bad. He allows me to fuss and cry and whine and try to overpower Him and His will, in order to have a free and clear path to exercise my own. And I don't just want His permission, or even be pleased with His blessing. Nope. I want God to facilitate my wish list.
We are still kind of meandering here in Riverside County. We are here in our first choice for RV parks, but we may have to move out tomorrow for the weekend. Unfortunately, we can't go back to the cul-de-sac that the kids live on. Seems you have to have a permit from the city of Temecula. I found that out about a week ago when I was tappy-tapping away and one of Temecula's finest came along side to give me a ticket. The real corker was that my Don was out with Kyle previewing properties, and I don't know how to move the beast known as the motorhome. So, I looked pathetic enough to rate a one hour reprieve - enough time for me to make a fairly panicked call to my hubby, the captain of this ship, start packing up for moving, all the while having a SERIOUS chat with God. So, God let me wrestle with Him. Fortunately, Pechanga RV Park has a massive parking lot adjacent where they allow folks to park for a few days at a time, so we were covered. But I still insisted upon tussling with my Heavenly Father. It was a tough night, but the next day, I began to see His abundant mercy...again.
We did move in to the park the next day, but by then I was completely without voice, thanks to a nasty cough I had been entertaining for a week. Now, Don's glee notwithstanding, I had a class to teach at a marriage retreat in Palm Springs in five days. I texted my teaching partner, who immediately responded back that she had been hit in the head by a basketball - passed, ironically, by her own daughter - and now had a minor concussion. At this point, we both realized that it wasn't God we were wrestling, but the enemy himself. And he fights dirty. On top of the physical drama, we had to move out of the park again, because of the Temecula Wine and Balloon (the big hot air-I-wouldn't-ride-in-one-on-a-bet type, not the make-fun-animals type) Festival, and the place was sold out. So, Friday we packed up and moved back to the lot, then drove over the nearby mountains into Palm Springs, where all went beautifully!! Praise God! We came back on Sunday, moved back into the pretty park - and I began the tussle with God once again.
In my little head, I guess I thought that I had done all that God wanted me to do - I was at both weddings, made Gregory's graduation, and taught at the Marriage Getaway. "OH, AAAAABBAAAA FAAAAAATHER!!!!I'M AAAAALL DONE!!!!!" hmmmm.... I'm still here.... The wrestling resumes. I find myself wanting to know the exact end date - when we will be returning to our island home. I want to know exactly WHY al this happened in the first place. After all, had God let those deals close we could have afforded to come over here on our own, right!?!? But 55:8 says it clearly and succinctly: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways, declares the Lord." Huh. In other words, I won't be running for God too soon, and He won't be asking my opinion on how I think the world - even MY world - should be handled.
Remember Jacob getting his hip blown out of the socket by a mere pinkie touch of God? Of course you do. It was just five paragraphs earlier. God demonstrated His own power, as well as making Jacob walk with a hitch in his giddyup for the rest of his days. Even with all that, Jacob clung to the Lord, much as a three-year-old clings to her father's leg when she does not want to be separated from him. Jacob clung and would not let go until God had blessed him. God gave Jacob that, plus a new name - Israel. From him, a whole people sprung. Holy cats, that's some blessing. So, then what would be so hard about giving me what I want? Because, quite clearly, it is not in GOD'S plans for what He wants for me.........(sigh!)
Does this mean I will stop wrestling with God? I'd like to say that I will never do that again, but somehow that seems to lack sincerity. Or any possibility of being true. If anything, I would like to wrestle in order to cling closer to my heavenly Father. I would ask Him to give me more faith, and set my heart even more on fire for Him, so when He asks me to do something that is annoying or painful or stressful, I do it with joy, not whining. If I cling to Him, let it not be like that tempermental child who wants what she wants when she wants it. Let me simply cling with all my heart to the One who loves me.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Two Weddings and a Graduation - Parte Dos
Ah...so where were we.... AHA! Gregory's graduation!
When Greg started Kindergarten, he seemed to have trouble grasping some of the basics, and by first grade, he still struggled. But his teacher, Mrs. Insko - a lovely young woman...of course - worked with him, and patiently taught the little towhead how to not only read, but to love learning. He loved it so much, in fact, that except for about a year or so following his graduation from USC, he has pretty much been in school ever since.
So, off were we Daltons, some 25 or so years later, to Multnomah Biblical Seminary in Portland, Oregon, to watch and beam as Greg received his second Masters - a Master of Divinity. We be so proud!
But, there was more to the weekend than just our son in a funny hat and dress. It actually started somewhere between Kindergarten and graduation, actually. Last Christmas Greg made his Christmas present for his family round trip tickets to Portland, and we would all be staying in his place. Now, before you start picturing six adults and two tots in a college dorm room, I should clarify that Greg lives in a very large home, Him, and six other guys. Kind of a Godly frat house, we call it - all the testosterone, minus the empties and stripper pole. The Dalton gang would occupy the basement, which isn't as spooky as it sounds - although it does seem like that's where one keeps the scarier members of the family that you don't want your roommates to know about. It is actually a very comfortable 2 bedroom, one bath apartment. Kyle, Kristin and the kiddies occupied one large bedroom, Don and I in the other very spacious bedroom, and Uncle John got the futon in the living room. Greg moved upstairs to the futon in the living room on the main floor, discovering, only after his first night of attempted sleep, that he had the same issue with his bed as we had for Autumn and Tarkus' wedding - wonkage. But that was his problem. We were all rather cozy downstairs - except for John. His futon was only slightly wonky. His problem was of the cute, jammied variety. John works very hard at his job, so when he has mornings to sleep in, he likes to do just that. Kind of challenging when you have a little niece and nephew that want to play with all the toys that "Guncle (Uncle Greg) borrowed from his church for them to play with. Not only that, Uncle John is fun to play with. Somehow we even managed to survive with only one bathroom! Not easy when two of the apartment's occupants are card-carrying adult females. But we more than managed - it was a four-alarm blast!
We got there the day before his Friday May the Thirteenth graduation...which would make it....Thursday the Twelfth ...yeah, that's it.
Don and I got tickets on the same flight but further back. Our plan had been to offer to trade with someone seated next to K&K&Kiddies, and Uncle John. In fact, we figured there would be fistfights to see who could trade once they saw a three-year-old and a 16-month-old in close proximity. But, that didn't happen. Not only were they handling things just fine (kids and adults alike), we had our own version of terrors in the sky - two little tots who when not kicking the seat in front of them were whining or screaming about what they couldn't have. About halfway through the two hour flight (believe me, we counted every minute), the four-year-old was asleep in his seat, and the two-year-old was screaming about food and a movie. Mommy was pleading with him with a soft "shoosh-shoosh-shoosh", while Dad was reading his book. Egad. I ws ready to start my own fistfight. But we got thrre, safe and sound - but no Guncle. He was still at home putting the last minute touches on his place, but he was just a few minutes from the airport, so no problem. By the time Don returned with the rental Urban Assault Vehicle, Greg was there and we were all ready for this newest Dalton Adventure to begin!
It was fairly late in the day, so getting food was a pretty big priority (what I meant to say was that we were all STUFFED after our sumptuous airplane meal). Greg led us to a Portland trademark - food carts! Think of the offspring of a county fair and a roach coach, with a little funk thrown in. Actually, this was some pretty amazing comfort food - and given that such comfort food is frequently on the D&D menu of late (as to which my clothes shrinking while hanging in my closet can attest), this hit the sweet spot. There are several of these cluster of colorful carts scattered around Portland, occupying vacant lots or a bunch of parking spaces, and the carts surround picnic benches. We sat ourselves around one and began to feast on pulled pork fries, pepperoni pizza (with the best crust I have EVER had!), and hand held pies - chicken, pulled pork, and mac n' cheese. oh my. We snarfed down what we could, then had a bunch of leftovers. The celebration had begun in earnest.
The next day was the BIG day. Greg's Baccalaureate (omigosh. Spelled it right on the first try) was at 10:00, but we had to get our favorite graduate to the school by 9:30. This would be the first morning of all of us trying to get beautiful at once - with the exception of John who decided that sleeping in on a slightly wonkish futon was far superior than fighting for the limited shower time. We actually managed to get ready and be beautiful nearly on time. One thing that Kristin and I discovered quite quickly that there was no sign of a woman having anything to do with the design of this house. There were no vanities in any of the bathrooms - just pedestal sinks. Where is a girl supposed to lay her makeup, blow dryer, flat iron, hair products, paddle brush, round brush, hair clips, and coffee!?!? The bedrooms were no better. For all their spaciousness, they had only one outlet, and that one outlet was nowhere near a mirror. See, I know I just lost any guy-types that might be reading this, but EVERY girl no what I am talking about! But I digress.... Point is, we got to the service on time and we were all quite lovely.
As we sat down in the service, and saw all these Masters graduates - our son among them - it just hit me. this is our little goofy Greggor. I began to replay moments of his life. And, yes, I began to cry a little - which Kyle IMMEDIATELY pointed out to his brother. SO, what's your point there, boys!?!?!? I earned my mushy moment. I failed to mention that among the Greg's fellow graduates was Cari, the bride for the next weekend and one of the stars of my last blog. She and Greg had been friends down in SD, at The Rock Church, working together in the Care and Concern ministry, then Cari started at Multnomah a semester behind Greg. It was wonderful seeing her that morning, but even more wonderful to see her get a special award! I would tell you what it was for, but I don't quite remember. I just know we were as proud as if she were our own!
Service over, we headed back to pick up John and enjoy the day before the big wingding that night. I should also point out one other, maybe very obvious, factor in our visit to Portland. We froze. Keep in mind that Don and I each grew up in Southern California. I lived in San Diego my whole life, and he was born and raised in So Cal, and except for some college years in Iowa, he lived in warmth, too. When the brisk winters of San Diego, where temps might plunge to the low 60's, became too much for us, we moved to Maui. Being a relatively smart person, I kept an assortment of warm clothing in the rv for our visits to the mainland. We would obviously need these warm items, given that the high was only supposed to be in the low 60's. Look just two lines above to see how we feel about that. Anyway, the day before we were flying up to Oregon, I asked Don to go get said cozy garments from the side storage outside. This would require bring the sideout in, since where we were at the time, Golden Village RV Park in beautiful downtown Hemet, had narrow sites with thick hedges lining each site. Our sideout, in which the storage locker resided, was firmly smooshed up next to the hedge, and one would need several jungle guides with machetes to get through - without pulling the side back in, that is. Clearing out of the way all the things that we put IN the way (little cocktail tables, suitcases, shoes, etc.), it was time to push the magic switch that would bring the side in. So, I pushed. The hydrolics that move entire sections of a nice little motorhome like ours make a high-pitched whiny sound as it expands our interior from an aisle with furniture to an actual living room. TAH-DAH!! The reverse is also true - push the magic switch, whiny sound emits, and your living room contracts down to a carpeted aisle with a sofa and lounge chair. TEE-DEE!! This time I pushed. All whine, no action. Tried again. The whine seemed to get more intense, as though the little man inside was pushing really, reeeeally hard. Nuthin'. Don went outside to offer encouragement to the reluctant sideout by pushing with all his might as I continued with the squealing, useless switch. It moved!! About an inch and a half. Suffice to say, we left for Portland without all the warm things that I had packed away for storage. I did have a pair of jeans, some cords, and three sweaters. Unfortunately, the sweaters were less about keep me warm than they were about keep me cute while looking like they were keeping me warm. Limited success on both points. I also had only open-toed shoes. Cute shoes, to be sure, but not so much about being warm.
Back to Friday. We took off for the afternoon to Mt. Tabor Park. Beautiful and green, and where the trees did not provide shade, there were carpets of yellow and white wildflowers. After a short (pant-pant!), easy (pant-puff-wheeze!), walk up the slope (puff-puff-GASP!!), we were blessed by a stunning view of Mt. Hood. Understand, this is a rare sight. In fact, of all the times in Portland, this is the first time we have ever seen Mt Hood in its full length pointyness. There were also lots of places to take artsy-fartsy pix of family - some that actually looked good! The best, of course, were of Amber - first after her father laid her in a field of wildflowers, and then when she did the sort of 3-year-old-vamp-over-the-shoulder-smolder. Smokin'!! Watch out, Kyle. Less than ten years 'til the teens.... After an easier descent, and some fun at the playground, it was time to get our favorite grad off to get pretty for his ceremony.
The commencement ceremony for Multnomah Bible College and Seminary was at a big church several miles south of Greg's house. Greg flew out before the rest of the gang - this time, the role of Kristin and the babies was being played by Uncle John. With only being a teeny bit late, we cruised in in time to take our seats then listen to a piano play "Pomp and Circumstance" - lovely, but lacked that swell and drama and tear-jerky stuff. I still managed to cry. Duh. The graduating classes of Multnomah aren't huge by any stretch, but considering how we were in second row, nosebleed, it was a little tough to pick out our boy. "Hey, he's the one in the black dress and the half a pizza box, with the lamp pull hanging from the corner, on his head!" Yeah, not so much. It wasn't until much....much....a whole buncha much later that we saw Greg stand with his class. Since his particular class, Master of Divinity (M Div, if you like to speak in shorthand or text talk), was the second to last of AAAALL the classes, so yes, it was much...much... later. When he came up, and his name was announced as he was to receive his hood, Greg's brothers reacted - by screaming like two twelve-year-old girls at a Justin Bieber concert. Two of Greg's roommates were sitting next to my other sons. I think they - and all strangers around them - deserved combat pay. As if the pre-pubescent female screams weren't enough, Kyle yelled out his location to Greg, and the entire mass of people. To the people at Rolling Hills Church attending the commencement ceremonies of Multnomah Bible College and Seminary on Friday, May 13, 2011...we, the parents, offer our sincerest apologies....and no explanation.
Commencing ceased, and we began the exciting game of "Find Your Graduate!". Easy, remember? Look for the guy in the black dress, half pizza box with lamp pull on head, and now, a beautiful satin hood - which, in actuality, looks more like a fancy stole sewed into a circle then looped around the graduate's neck like a backwards lei. But it is the coolest thing. Maybe ever. We finally found him and started snapping the requisite poses with family, friends, and innocent passers-by. We also found Cari, and took a couple of lovely shots of the two of them. Wait. Let me be honest here: Cari looked lovely. Greg looked like....Greg. This new recipient of his second Masters had his tassel in his mouth - which quickly got attached to the wad of chewing gum he'd been working over since before the ceremony. The next pix show him trying to free his shiny red tassel from the sticky glob. Ah, me...
The rest of the weekend flew by - we took the Max (their light rail) into the Saturday Market, and ate more wonderful bad food while enjoying the very colorful culture (and counter) along the Willamette...or Columbia - we're not sure which. But it was a river. The guys cooked steaks, then Kristin got to be free of the little ones and head with all the men to Greg's favorite pub for darts and a brew. Sunday morning, we watched Greg as worship leader at his church, where the pastor said it was "all about Greg" day, and officially dubbed him a bona fide Smarty Pants. After church, we walked in the rain (the Californians were the only one with umbrellas because Portlandians think they're silly) to the pastor's house, where a BBQ was given in Greg's honor. Impressive. Before giving thanks for the food, there was a "Time of Appreciation" for Greg, as one-by-one, folks told Greg what they appreciated about him. This could be the most wonderful gift any parent could receive - to know that others see their child as they do. And, yes, I cried. Do you really have to ask!?!? Then, dinner that night with our nephew, Phillip, and his lovely bride, Nicole - rather impressively pregnant with their first (she's in labor as I write this!! Go, Nic!!). Such a day. Such a weekend.
Monday came too quickly. Back to the airport. So fast. We hung out as long as we could with Greg (actually forgetting that we hadn't yet gone through security and we had a baby in a stroller. oops). As we were saying our last bye-byes to Gregory/Guncle, he said to me with a smile, "You know, I was looking at those professors with the fancy robes and hoods, and the floppy hats. I want to be one of them."
I'll get you for this, Mrs. Insko.
When Greg started Kindergarten, he seemed to have trouble grasping some of the basics, and by first grade, he still struggled. But his teacher, Mrs. Insko - a lovely young woman...of course - worked with him, and patiently taught the little towhead how to not only read, but to love learning. He loved it so much, in fact, that except for about a year or so following his graduation from USC, he has pretty much been in school ever since.
So, off were we Daltons, some 25 or so years later, to Multnomah Biblical Seminary in Portland, Oregon, to watch and beam as Greg received his second Masters - a Master of Divinity. We be so proud!
But, there was more to the weekend than just our son in a funny hat and dress. It actually started somewhere between Kindergarten and graduation, actually. Last Christmas Greg made his Christmas present for his family round trip tickets to Portland, and we would all be staying in his place. Now, before you start picturing six adults and two tots in a college dorm room, I should clarify that Greg lives in a very large home, Him, and six other guys. Kind of a Godly frat house, we call it - all the testosterone, minus the empties and stripper pole. The Dalton gang would occupy the basement, which isn't as spooky as it sounds - although it does seem like that's where one keeps the scarier members of the family that you don't want your roommates to know about. It is actually a very comfortable 2 bedroom, one bath apartment. Kyle, Kristin and the kiddies occupied one large bedroom, Don and I in the other very spacious bedroom, and Uncle John got the futon in the living room. Greg moved upstairs to the futon in the living room on the main floor, discovering, only after his first night of attempted sleep, that he had the same issue with his bed as we had for Autumn and Tarkus' wedding - wonkage. But that was his problem. We were all rather cozy downstairs - except for John. His futon was only slightly wonky. His problem was of the cute, jammied variety. John works very hard at his job, so when he has mornings to sleep in, he likes to do just that. Kind of challenging when you have a little niece and nephew that want to play with all the toys that "Guncle (Uncle Greg) borrowed from his church for them to play with. Not only that, Uncle John is fun to play with. Somehow we even managed to survive with only one bathroom! Not easy when two of the apartment's occupants are card-carrying adult females. But we more than managed - it was a four-alarm blast!
We got there the day before his Friday May the Thirteenth graduation...which would make it....Thursday the Twelfth ...yeah, that's it.
Don and I got tickets on the same flight but further back. Our plan had been to offer to trade with someone seated next to K&K&Kiddies, and Uncle John. In fact, we figured there would be fistfights to see who could trade once they saw a three-year-old and a 16-month-old in close proximity. But, that didn't happen. Not only were they handling things just fine (kids and adults alike), we had our own version of terrors in the sky - two little tots who when not kicking the seat in front of them were whining or screaming about what they couldn't have. About halfway through the two hour flight (believe me, we counted every minute), the four-year-old was asleep in his seat, and the two-year-old was screaming about food and a movie. Mommy was pleading with him with a soft "shoosh-shoosh-shoosh", while Dad was reading his book. Egad. I ws ready to start my own fistfight. But we got thrre, safe and sound - but no Guncle. He was still at home putting the last minute touches on his place, but he was just a few minutes from the airport, so no problem. By the time Don returned with the rental Urban Assault Vehicle, Greg was there and we were all ready for this newest Dalton Adventure to begin!
It was fairly late in the day, so getting food was a pretty big priority (what I meant to say was that we were all STUFFED after our sumptuous airplane meal). Greg led us to a Portland trademark - food carts! Think of the offspring of a county fair and a roach coach, with a little funk thrown in. Actually, this was some pretty amazing comfort food - and given that such comfort food is frequently on the D&D menu of late (as to which my clothes shrinking while hanging in my closet can attest), this hit the sweet spot. There are several of these cluster of colorful carts scattered around Portland, occupying vacant lots or a bunch of parking spaces, and the carts surround picnic benches. We sat ourselves around one and began to feast on pulled pork fries, pepperoni pizza (with the best crust I have EVER had!), and hand held pies - chicken, pulled pork, and mac n' cheese. oh my. We snarfed down what we could, then had a bunch of leftovers. The celebration had begun in earnest.
The next day was the BIG day. Greg's Baccalaureate (omigosh. Spelled it right on the first try) was at 10:00, but we had to get our favorite graduate to the school by 9:30. This would be the first morning of all of us trying to get beautiful at once - with the exception of John who decided that sleeping in on a slightly wonkish futon was far superior than fighting for the limited shower time. We actually managed to get ready and be beautiful nearly on time. One thing that Kristin and I discovered quite quickly that there was no sign of a woman having anything to do with the design of this house. There were no vanities in any of the bathrooms - just pedestal sinks. Where is a girl supposed to lay her makeup, blow dryer, flat iron, hair products, paddle brush, round brush, hair clips, and coffee!?!? The bedrooms were no better. For all their spaciousness, they had only one outlet, and that one outlet was nowhere near a mirror. See, I know I just lost any guy-types that might be reading this, but EVERY girl no what I am talking about! But I digress.... Point is, we got to the service on time and we were all quite lovely.
As we sat down in the service, and saw all these Masters graduates - our son among them - it just hit me. this is our little goofy Greggor. I began to replay moments of his life. And, yes, I began to cry a little - which Kyle IMMEDIATELY pointed out to his brother. SO, what's your point there, boys!?!?!? I earned my mushy moment. I failed to mention that among the Greg's fellow graduates was Cari, the bride for the next weekend and one of the stars of my last blog. She and Greg had been friends down in SD, at The Rock Church, working together in the Care and Concern ministry, then Cari started at Multnomah a semester behind Greg. It was wonderful seeing her that morning, but even more wonderful to see her get a special award! I would tell you what it was for, but I don't quite remember. I just know we were as proud as if she were our own!
Service over, we headed back to pick up John and enjoy the day before the big wingding that night. I should also point out one other, maybe very obvious, factor in our visit to Portland. We froze. Keep in mind that Don and I each grew up in Southern California. I lived in San Diego my whole life, and he was born and raised in So Cal, and except for some college years in Iowa, he lived in warmth, too. When the brisk winters of San Diego, where temps might plunge to the low 60's, became too much for us, we moved to Maui. Being a relatively smart person, I kept an assortment of warm clothing in the rv for our visits to the mainland. We would obviously need these warm items, given that the high was only supposed to be in the low 60's. Look just two lines above to see how we feel about that. Anyway, the day before we were flying up to Oregon, I asked Don to go get said cozy garments from the side storage outside. This would require bring the sideout in, since where we were at the time, Golden Village RV Park in beautiful downtown Hemet, had narrow sites with thick hedges lining each site. Our sideout, in which the storage locker resided, was firmly smooshed up next to the hedge, and one would need several jungle guides with machetes to get through - without pulling the side back in, that is. Clearing out of the way all the things that we put IN the way (little cocktail tables, suitcases, shoes, etc.), it was time to push the magic switch that would bring the side in. So, I pushed. The hydrolics that move entire sections of a nice little motorhome like ours make a high-pitched whiny sound as it expands our interior from an aisle with furniture to an actual living room. TAH-DAH!! The reverse is also true - push the magic switch, whiny sound emits, and your living room contracts down to a carpeted aisle with a sofa and lounge chair. TEE-DEE!! This time I pushed. All whine, no action. Tried again. The whine seemed to get more intense, as though the little man inside was pushing really, reeeeally hard. Nuthin'. Don went outside to offer encouragement to the reluctant sideout by pushing with all his might as I continued with the squealing, useless switch. It moved!! About an inch and a half. Suffice to say, we left for Portland without all the warm things that I had packed away for storage. I did have a pair of jeans, some cords, and three sweaters. Unfortunately, the sweaters were less about keep me warm than they were about keep me cute while looking like they were keeping me warm. Limited success on both points. I also had only open-toed shoes. Cute shoes, to be sure, but not so much about being warm.
Back to Friday. We took off for the afternoon to Mt. Tabor Park. Beautiful and green, and where the trees did not provide shade, there were carpets of yellow and white wildflowers. After a short (pant-pant!), easy (pant-puff-wheeze!), walk up the slope (puff-puff-GASP!!), we were blessed by a stunning view of Mt. Hood. Understand, this is a rare sight. In fact, of all the times in Portland, this is the first time we have ever seen Mt Hood in its full length pointyness. There were also lots of places to take artsy-fartsy pix of family - some that actually looked good! The best, of course, were of Amber - first after her father laid her in a field of wildflowers, and then when she did the sort of 3-year-old-vamp-over-the-shoulder-smolder. Smokin'!! Watch out, Kyle. Less than ten years 'til the teens.... After an easier descent, and some fun at the playground, it was time to get our favorite grad off to get pretty for his ceremony.
The commencement ceremony for Multnomah Bible College and Seminary was at a big church several miles south of Greg's house. Greg flew out before the rest of the gang - this time, the role of Kristin and the babies was being played by Uncle John. With only being a teeny bit late, we cruised in in time to take our seats then listen to a piano play "Pomp and Circumstance" - lovely, but lacked that swell and drama and tear-jerky stuff. I still managed to cry. Duh. The graduating classes of Multnomah aren't huge by any stretch, but considering how we were in second row, nosebleed, it was a little tough to pick out our boy. "Hey, he's the one in the black dress and the half a pizza box, with the lamp pull hanging from the corner, on his head!" Yeah, not so much. It wasn't until much....much....a whole buncha much later that we saw Greg stand with his class. Since his particular class, Master of Divinity (M Div, if you like to speak in shorthand or text talk), was the second to last of AAAALL the classes, so yes, it was much...much... later. When he came up, and his name was announced as he was to receive his hood, Greg's brothers reacted - by screaming like two twelve-year-old girls at a Justin Bieber concert. Two of Greg's roommates were sitting next to my other sons. I think they - and all strangers around them - deserved combat pay. As if the pre-pubescent female screams weren't enough, Kyle yelled out his location to Greg, and the entire mass of people. To the people at Rolling Hills Church attending the commencement ceremonies of Multnomah Bible College and Seminary on Friday, May 13, 2011...we, the parents, offer our sincerest apologies....and no explanation.
Commencing ceased, and we began the exciting game of "Find Your Graduate!". Easy, remember? Look for the guy in the black dress, half pizza box with lamp pull on head, and now, a beautiful satin hood - which, in actuality, looks more like a fancy stole sewed into a circle then looped around the graduate's neck like a backwards lei. But it is the coolest thing. Maybe ever. We finally found him and started snapping the requisite poses with family, friends, and innocent passers-by. We also found Cari, and took a couple of lovely shots of the two of them. Wait. Let me be honest here: Cari looked lovely. Greg looked like....Greg. This new recipient of his second Masters had his tassel in his mouth - which quickly got attached to the wad of chewing gum he'd been working over since before the ceremony. The next pix show him trying to free his shiny red tassel from the sticky glob. Ah, me...
The rest of the weekend flew by - we took the Max (their light rail) into the Saturday Market, and ate more wonderful bad food while enjoying the very colorful culture (and counter) along the Willamette...or Columbia - we're not sure which. But it was a river. The guys cooked steaks, then Kristin got to be free of the little ones and head with all the men to Greg's favorite pub for darts and a brew. Sunday morning, we watched Greg as worship leader at his church, where the pastor said it was "all about Greg" day, and officially dubbed him a bona fide Smarty Pants. After church, we walked in the rain (the Californians were the only one with umbrellas because Portlandians think they're silly) to the pastor's house, where a BBQ was given in Greg's honor. Impressive. Before giving thanks for the food, there was a "Time of Appreciation" for Greg, as one-by-one, folks told Greg what they appreciated about him. This could be the most wonderful gift any parent could receive - to know that others see their child as they do. And, yes, I cried. Do you really have to ask!?!? Then, dinner that night with our nephew, Phillip, and his lovely bride, Nicole - rather impressively pregnant with their first (she's in labor as I write this!! Go, Nic!!). Such a day. Such a weekend.
Monday came too quickly. Back to the airport. So fast. We hung out as long as we could with Greg (actually forgetting that we hadn't yet gone through security and we had a baby in a stroller. oops). As we were saying our last bye-byes to Gregory/Guncle, he said to me with a smile, "You know, I was looking at those professors with the fancy robes and hoods, and the floppy hats. I want to be one of them."
I'll get you for this, Mrs. Insko.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Two Weddings and a Graduation - Part 1
Looking out at the latest view, I am blessed to see blue skies with green trees and grass interspersed between the RV's...and then I cough my brains out and blow my nose again. Yes, I am sick. And feeling very sorry for myself. I do not make a good sick person. On top of that, we were supposed to sit with the grandbabies tonight so Kyle and Kristin could go to Bible study. So, I am sitting here trying to write while feeling all sick and pathetic while Don is putting babies to bed. Wait a minute....I can watch what I want on tv...I don't have to worry about crying babies or fallen na-na's or poopy diapers or getting worked by a completely adorable little con artist... I guess it's okay here, too.
So, as promised...or threatened.... I have to catch you up on all the fun stuff that we've been a part of - namely, as the title states, two weddings and a graduation. WHile I never, ever would have chosen the means and methods that God used to get us to these events, I am soooo glad He did!
May 7 was the day that my former business partner/friend/surrogate daughter, Autumn, married the man of her dreams, Tarkus Mossberg. Yes, that is his real name - and I have to say that the two of them looked like the cover of a romance novel. But before we get there... Understand, I haven't done a wedding for almost two years - and that was a low effort, barefoot-on-the-beach wedding with 20 guests. This was a backyard venue for about 150 guests. Autumn and Tarkus had rented a beautiful Victorian on about an acre in the Carlsbad/Vista/San Marcos area. The pictures looked amazing. Unfortunately, it turned out to be like an airbrushed picture of a supermodel - not bearing up under close scrutiny. Oh, it looked pretty enough at first glance, but the large trees that had been pruned down to utter nakedness. Some looked like Stonehenge, while others had some growth at the end of gigantic limbs - the green pompoms making them looking like poodle trees, or some invention of Dr. Seuss. The grounds had slope to them, and we knew we had to set 160 chairs to fit the slope and space. What we weren't prepared for was a lawn totally landscaped and furrowed by gophers! On paper, the chair layout was lovely. In the real world, many of our chairs were so lopsided and wonky that they came with their own warning labels. I had to instruct the ushers carefully that before they seated any guests in one of the tipsy chairs to 1) make sure that the guest looked fairly nimble and balanced, and 2) warn said guest about the wonk factor in the chair they were about to set their tushy in.
After setting lights and hanging pomanders on Thursday, then setting chairs and more lights on Friday, it was time for the rehearsal late in the afternoon on Friday - and time for The Coordinator. I've only had the pleasure of coordinating a couple of weddings, and I happen to love rehearsals. If everyone leaves knowing what they're supposed to do, and have had fun learning all those things, then I've done my job. We all had fun, but only the next day would tell if I had made everyone secure in what they were supposed to do. Of course, I had to make sure that i knew what was going on. Tarkus' parents split many years ago and remarried a few years after that. These guys all get along and love their son very much. The only problem ws that during the rehearsal, I sent the wrong dad in after the wrong mom. oopsie.
I should mention that during this time, we were still out in Hemet (pardon me while I shudder just a little bit.... blleeeeeuuuuuw....ok....better now), and we decided to stay at affordable lodging nearby. Don got a great deal on on of those Extended Stay America things. Basic, but clean and close to where we needed to be. So, on the morning of the big day, we were up and out before 8:00 a.m. I should also mention that all my wedding-ish stuff is still in storage in Maui, so I had to find wedding-ish stuff for pert near nuthin', and being the coordinator, it meant to find something cute and black and comfy...for pert near nuthin'. Mission accomplished, and now we were toting all things wedding-ish, trying to remember all the girlie and coordinator-y things that I would need throughout the day.
We walked into the venue at 8:20-something and got to it right away - staging banquet tables, placing tables for the cocktail and buffet areas, and setting up a small table for the Unity Candle ceremony. This meant covering a highboy table with linens and placing the candles on said table. We had an audience. No, I'm not speaking of the grooms little nieces that were trying to be oh-so-helpful (I had them become my official potty sign makers....don't ask - long story). No, the audience of which I speak was the little furry landscaper that had made setting up so...challenging. Frankly, I had no idea that gophers were so cute! And this guy was right under the table legs, and close to our bare feet. Don and I tried pitching stuff at him to send him back into his little home in fear. Nope. This little dude bobbed and weaved like a miniature, fuzzy Mohammed Ali. Where is Bill Murray when you need him!?!?
Autumn and Tarkus put together and hard-working team to bring Autumn's vision to life. Seems right. When this bride worked for me the first time, it was for Kyle and Kristin's wedding over five years ago, and this young woman looked at my sketches and directions and made it all come alive. Autumn had made every centerpiece, pomander, and boutonniere, and my job was just to get it in place, with the help of so many, then get the show on the road.
funny thing about rehearsals is that they don't always look like the real thing. By an 45 minutes before the ceremony. we didn't have a photographer yet, and we needed her to get there so our bride could get dressed. This was not a good start. By the time the photog did arrive, guests had started arriving as well, and it became a frenzy of directing traffic, putting out fires, and checking the time - which was flying well past the start time for the ceremony! I loved the creativity of the photographer, but when one wants to be that creative, one should show up earlier! In the meantime, our officiant was pacing on the side of the house, sweltering in his black robe. I had told him to walk out with the groom and his guys as soon as the mother of the bride was seated. In the meantime, I had a very nervous bridesmaid who was afraid of not knowing when to go, since she was the first of the girls to go out. I assured her that I would send her at the perfect time. well. You know that whole "good intentions" adage!?!? Well, this may not have been the road to Hell, but it may have felt that way for a while for poor Stephanie. Mom of Bride was seated, and I gently sent the eager bridesmaid. Unfortunately, I had not noticed that the officiant and the gang hadn't even cleared the driveway yet, and when they did, their easy saunter was no match for the bridesmaid's near-sprint. Before I knew it, the young lady was standing up there, smiling like all get-out, as the pastor and his entourage were strolling like cowboys fresh off the trail moseying into the local saloon. I sent the next girl out simply to keep the first one company, because by that point I was wondering if the officiant realized that he had a very eager bridegroom behind him. I'm surprised that the six-foot-zillion Tarkus didn't pick up the rather slight pastor and run with him to the altar. But they all made it, and Tarkus stood there, a handsome sight in his gray cutaway, waiting for his bride. My job was not even close to being over as I had to keep the father of the bride from leaving the house without his date - the star of the show! But he stepped back in to fetch this radiant girl, and Tarkus and Autumn had their moment of just looking at each other before I had the extraordinary joy and blessing of sending this girl to meet her husband-to-be. I fluffed her train and cathedral veil - only to have the lumpy grass mess with the train and the wind blow the veil - but she was perfection!
After all the I do's were done, it was time to get ready for the party! WOOT-WOOT!! This meant carrying 16 tables that had been partially set in the morning over to the lumpy bumpy slopey lawn from the staging area. Again, I was blessed with about a million and three helpers, and oh, were they needed! Once again, the layout on paper had nearly no resemblance to the Super-3-D reality. We would set out a table based on the desired placement, only to have one leg drop into a hole or be wedged on to a lump. Serious wonkage. We eventually did get the tables laid out, but the resulting look was one of small, tight gatherings of people who were so far removed from the other groups that the only possible way to chat with any at the other tables was either text messages or drum beats.
The other speedbump was the matter of a deejay - which there wasn't one of as of two weeks before the wedding. An iPod was being loaded up to handle the dance music, but that still left the matter of an MC. So, our son, Kyle was recruited! Now, those of you familiar with my sons know that they are not prone to embarrassment. In isn't even in their genetic makeup. So, Kyle got himself all prepared, excited, and practiced for the big announcements. And then he came down with a MRSA (a superbug infection) on his head. At first, we thought that we were going to have to go with a Plan B, but fortunately, his determination got him therre. Showing up with a bandage on his already broken nose (since he was a kid), a black sportcoat, and a black fedora, he looked more like a hitman than an enthusiastic MC.
So, we had a thuggish-looking announcer, but he was awesome - funny and energetic. Our tables were clustered oddly. But it worked. And it was wonderful. And as we staggered back to our sparce but safe hotel room, I asked my beloved husband, who worked side-by-side with me every step of the way..."Now how much do you love YOUR job, now?"
While there was a graduation in between, I'll get to the next wedding first - which was this last Saturday. We had moved from Hemet to Pechanga to...the cul-de-sac in front of the kids place. Don's and my involvement was fairly minimal, but we did volunteer to hold the spot on the beach until the coordinator got there. We also provided the music in the form of my iPod and portable speaker, which meant we had to meet the bride in Coronado by 8:00 am. This meant that we had to leave here about 6:30. No biggie. I planned to shower and do my hair and makeup before we left. No problem. No. Problem. I seemed to have forgotten the minor issue of NO POWER!! Oh, sure, we have a generator, but we didn't think the neighbors would appreciate a sound akin to the giant lawnmowers used on golfcourses and football fields. So....I went down to meet the bride with my hair still a bit soggy and dressed for work.
the ceremony itself was rather small, so after the coordinator arrived, we took off for the reception. Newlywed Autumn and her new husband were very involved in the decorating of the reception since it was a) at their condo clubhouse, and b) that's her business!! We all had a blast setting up - in fact, almost too much for the poor coordinator, who was a good friend of the bride's, and has a coordinating business in Orange county. By and large, the team putting together the reception had worked together many times and know how to get things done while laughing and chatting and looking like we don't take it seriously. Of course, we do, but it must not look like that to someone who is not familiar with the goofy way we work! But she figured it out in short order. The day and evening were once again amazing.
There are a few things that these weddings had in common. For one, there were many of the same people at Cari and Trevor's wedding as were at Autumn and Tarkus'. I've learned, also, that this church they all attend is fantastic at turning to and getting things done without being asked twice. The fact that these two brides were two women that I would have chosen for my sons is also somewhat ironic. I still don't know why we don't have arranged marriages...Who cares what the kids think...!??! Yes, I'm a little bitter....
Most importantly, both weddings had the Lord Jesus Christ as the cornerstone. It was so apparent at every turn. And we were blessed to have partaken in any way.
So, as promised...or threatened.... I have to catch you up on all the fun stuff that we've been a part of - namely, as the title states, two weddings and a graduation. WHile I never, ever would have chosen the means and methods that God used to get us to these events, I am soooo glad He did!
May 7 was the day that my former business partner/friend/surrogate daughter, Autumn, married the man of her dreams, Tarkus Mossberg. Yes, that is his real name - and I have to say that the two of them looked like the cover of a romance novel. But before we get there... Understand, I haven't done a wedding for almost two years - and that was a low effort, barefoot-on-the-beach wedding with 20 guests. This was a backyard venue for about 150 guests. Autumn and Tarkus had rented a beautiful Victorian on about an acre in the Carlsbad/Vista/San Marcos area. The pictures looked amazing. Unfortunately, it turned out to be like an airbrushed picture of a supermodel - not bearing up under close scrutiny. Oh, it looked pretty enough at first glance, but the large trees that had been pruned down to utter nakedness. Some looked like Stonehenge, while others had some growth at the end of gigantic limbs - the green pompoms making them looking like poodle trees, or some invention of Dr. Seuss. The grounds had slope to them, and we knew we had to set 160 chairs to fit the slope and space. What we weren't prepared for was a lawn totally landscaped and furrowed by gophers! On paper, the chair layout was lovely. In the real world, many of our chairs were so lopsided and wonky that they came with their own warning labels. I had to instruct the ushers carefully that before they seated any guests in one of the tipsy chairs to 1) make sure that the guest looked fairly nimble and balanced, and 2) warn said guest about the wonk factor in the chair they were about to set their tushy in.
After setting lights and hanging pomanders on Thursday, then setting chairs and more lights on Friday, it was time for the rehearsal late in the afternoon on Friday - and time for The Coordinator. I've only had the pleasure of coordinating a couple of weddings, and I happen to love rehearsals. If everyone leaves knowing what they're supposed to do, and have had fun learning all those things, then I've done my job. We all had fun, but only the next day would tell if I had made everyone secure in what they were supposed to do. Of course, I had to make sure that i knew what was going on. Tarkus' parents split many years ago and remarried a few years after that. These guys all get along and love their son very much. The only problem ws that during the rehearsal, I sent the wrong dad in after the wrong mom. oopsie.
I should mention that during this time, we were still out in Hemet (pardon me while I shudder just a little bit.... blleeeeeuuuuuw....ok....better now), and we decided to stay at affordable lodging nearby. Don got a great deal on on of those Extended Stay America things. Basic, but clean and close to where we needed to be. So, on the morning of the big day, we were up and out before 8:00 a.m. I should also mention that all my wedding-ish stuff is still in storage in Maui, so I had to find wedding-ish stuff for pert near nuthin', and being the coordinator, it meant to find something cute and black and comfy...for pert near nuthin'. Mission accomplished, and now we were toting all things wedding-ish, trying to remember all the girlie and coordinator-y things that I would need throughout the day.
We walked into the venue at 8:20-something and got to it right away - staging banquet tables, placing tables for the cocktail and buffet areas, and setting up a small table for the Unity Candle ceremony. This meant covering a highboy table with linens and placing the candles on said table. We had an audience. No, I'm not speaking of the grooms little nieces that were trying to be oh-so-helpful (I had them become my official potty sign makers....don't ask - long story). No, the audience of which I speak was the little furry landscaper that had made setting up so...challenging. Frankly, I had no idea that gophers were so cute! And this guy was right under the table legs, and close to our bare feet. Don and I tried pitching stuff at him to send him back into his little home in fear. Nope. This little dude bobbed and weaved like a miniature, fuzzy Mohammed Ali. Where is Bill Murray when you need him!?!?
Autumn and Tarkus put together and hard-working team to bring Autumn's vision to life. Seems right. When this bride worked for me the first time, it was for Kyle and Kristin's wedding over five years ago, and this young woman looked at my sketches and directions and made it all come alive. Autumn had made every centerpiece, pomander, and boutonniere, and my job was just to get it in place, with the help of so many, then get the show on the road.
funny thing about rehearsals is that they don't always look like the real thing. By an 45 minutes before the ceremony. we didn't have a photographer yet, and we needed her to get there so our bride could get dressed. This was not a good start. By the time the photog did arrive, guests had started arriving as well, and it became a frenzy of directing traffic, putting out fires, and checking the time - which was flying well past the start time for the ceremony! I loved the creativity of the photographer, but when one wants to be that creative, one should show up earlier! In the meantime, our officiant was pacing on the side of the house, sweltering in his black robe. I had told him to walk out with the groom and his guys as soon as the mother of the bride was seated. In the meantime, I had a very nervous bridesmaid who was afraid of not knowing when to go, since she was the first of the girls to go out. I assured her that I would send her at the perfect time. well. You know that whole "good intentions" adage!?!? Well, this may not have been the road to Hell, but it may have felt that way for a while for poor Stephanie. Mom of Bride was seated, and I gently sent the eager bridesmaid. Unfortunately, I had not noticed that the officiant and the gang hadn't even cleared the driveway yet, and when they did, their easy saunter was no match for the bridesmaid's near-sprint. Before I knew it, the young lady was standing up there, smiling like all get-out, as the pastor and his entourage were strolling like cowboys fresh off the trail moseying into the local saloon. I sent the next girl out simply to keep the first one company, because by that point I was wondering if the officiant realized that he had a very eager bridegroom behind him. I'm surprised that the six-foot-zillion Tarkus didn't pick up the rather slight pastor and run with him to the altar. But they all made it, and Tarkus stood there, a handsome sight in his gray cutaway, waiting for his bride. My job was not even close to being over as I had to keep the father of the bride from leaving the house without his date - the star of the show! But he stepped back in to fetch this radiant girl, and Tarkus and Autumn had their moment of just looking at each other before I had the extraordinary joy and blessing of sending this girl to meet her husband-to-be. I fluffed her train and cathedral veil - only to have the lumpy grass mess with the train and the wind blow the veil - but she was perfection!
After all the I do's were done, it was time to get ready for the party! WOOT-WOOT!! This meant carrying 16 tables that had been partially set in the morning over to the lumpy bumpy slopey lawn from the staging area. Again, I was blessed with about a million and three helpers, and oh, were they needed! Once again, the layout on paper had nearly no resemblance to the Super-3-D reality. We would set out a table based on the desired placement, only to have one leg drop into a hole or be wedged on to a lump. Serious wonkage. We eventually did get the tables laid out, but the resulting look was one of small, tight gatherings of people who were so far removed from the other groups that the only possible way to chat with any at the other tables was either text messages or drum beats.
The other speedbump was the matter of a deejay - which there wasn't one of as of two weeks before the wedding. An iPod was being loaded up to handle the dance music, but that still left the matter of an MC. So, our son, Kyle was recruited! Now, those of you familiar with my sons know that they are not prone to embarrassment. In isn't even in their genetic makeup. So, Kyle got himself all prepared, excited, and practiced for the big announcements. And then he came down with a MRSA (a superbug infection) on his head. At first, we thought that we were going to have to go with a Plan B, but fortunately, his determination got him therre. Showing up with a bandage on his already broken nose (since he was a kid), a black sportcoat, and a black fedora, he looked more like a hitman than an enthusiastic MC.
So, we had a thuggish-looking announcer, but he was awesome - funny and energetic. Our tables were clustered oddly. But it worked. And it was wonderful. And as we staggered back to our sparce but safe hotel room, I asked my beloved husband, who worked side-by-side with me every step of the way..."Now how much do you love YOUR job, now?"
While there was a graduation in between, I'll get to the next wedding first - which was this last Saturday. We had moved from Hemet to Pechanga to...the cul-de-sac in front of the kids place. Don's and my involvement was fairly minimal, but we did volunteer to hold the spot on the beach until the coordinator got there. We also provided the music in the form of my iPod and portable speaker, which meant we had to meet the bride in Coronado by 8:00 am. This meant that we had to leave here about 6:30. No biggie. I planned to shower and do my hair and makeup before we left. No problem. No. Problem. I seemed to have forgotten the minor issue of NO POWER!! Oh, sure, we have a generator, but we didn't think the neighbors would appreciate a sound akin to the giant lawnmowers used on golfcourses and football fields. So....I went down to meet the bride with my hair still a bit soggy and dressed for work.
the ceremony itself was rather small, so after the coordinator arrived, we took off for the reception. Newlywed Autumn and her new husband were very involved in the decorating of the reception since it was a) at their condo clubhouse, and b) that's her business!! We all had a blast setting up - in fact, almost too much for the poor coordinator, who was a good friend of the bride's, and has a coordinating business in Orange county. By and large, the team putting together the reception had worked together many times and know how to get things done while laughing and chatting and looking like we don't take it seriously. Of course, we do, but it must not look like that to someone who is not familiar with the goofy way we work! But she figured it out in short order. The day and evening were once again amazing.
There are a few things that these weddings had in common. For one, there were many of the same people at Cari and Trevor's wedding as were at Autumn and Tarkus'. I've learned, also, that this church they all attend is fantastic at turning to and getting things done without being asked twice. The fact that these two brides were two women that I would have chosen for my sons is also somewhat ironic. I still don't know why we don't have arranged marriages...Who cares what the kids think...!??! Yes, I'm a little bitter....
Most importantly, both weddings had the Lord Jesus Christ as the cornerstone. It was so apparent at every turn. And we were blessed to have partaken in any way.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Bits and Pieces, Moments and Minutiae
No heavy-duty-my-life-is-a-trial-oh-poor-me stuff this time. Just....silly stuff...
Let's start by marking our 36th day on the mainland. But who's counting? We have moved from the Golden Village RV Park, which in truth is a trailer/mobile home park. For over 55ers. In the desert. In Hemet. We discovered quickly that we had to go THROUGH the boondocks to get there, and since the gas prices are roughly the same as Hawaii, plus we don't want to put any further wear and tear on Don's car since we hope to sell it before returning home to Maui. Wow. Run-on sentence. Anyway. The sites were also too small and full of gravel, which meant no grandson could visit. It was risky enough having our rock-gathering granddaughter visiting, but her rock-chucking brother would be beyond dangerous. I must also confess that I am not a fan of deserts or the over-55 types places. As far as the latter, I like the little families that you find in RV parks and campgrounds. Often, Don and I will see a little family of cuties, and we kind of secretly adopt them. Not as creepy as it sounds, trust me. We also love the energy of a park that is filled with adventurous spirits - and big rigs that we enjoy lusting after. Nothing against the lovely people of Golden Village, but...a lot of the adventure seemed to be the indoor shuffleboard and Rascal Scooter drag races. As far as deserts, I must admit, I don't like them. At all. I understand that there are lovers of every type of topography and landscape - tree-covered mountains, vast prairies and plains, or rugged coastlines, big, vibrant cities or small towns...or a small, tropical island. My mom is among those who love the desert - the austere and hostile looking terrain that looks devoid of life, but upon closer examination, or a drenching rain, shows itself to be full of life. But I still don't like deserts. There were plenty of Palm trees - but these, unlike the coconut trees that look like they are in a perpetual state of hula, these date palms stand straight as an arrow, and their fronds are as stiff as a laquered feather duster.
So now we are in our favorite RV park. It's near the kids - only about ten minutes away as opposed to thirty or forty - and it's sites are large and grassy. It's quite popular. For that reason, we are having to leave it tomorrow and park on the street near Kyle and Kristin's or in the nearest Walmart. It seems that for the next three weekends, this place is sold out. oops. But, after June 6, we should be able to be here for a month...then have to leave for a night...then return for another 29 days....back to Walmart for a night...return here for another 29 days - and then we have to be out for at least six months. Hopefully, we'll be returning to Maui by then, so it won't be an issue, but you get the point. We're not going to get any moss under our feet - or wheels - while we are here on the mainland.
There have been a couple other big things on our busy social calendar: my friend and business partner, Autumn's wedding, and #2 son, Greg's, graduation.
Egad. Just looked at the time. It's almost 1:00 a.m. I'll have to write about Autumn's wedding and Greg's graduation another time. I'd better get some sleep. I'm moving tomorrow. Again.
Let's start by marking our 36th day on the mainland. But who's counting? We have moved from the Golden Village RV Park, which in truth is a trailer/mobile home park. For over 55ers. In the desert. In Hemet. We discovered quickly that we had to go THROUGH the boondocks to get there, and since the gas prices are roughly the same as Hawaii, plus we don't want to put any further wear and tear on Don's car since we hope to sell it before returning home to Maui. Wow. Run-on sentence. Anyway. The sites were also too small and full of gravel, which meant no grandson could visit. It was risky enough having our rock-gathering granddaughter visiting, but her rock-chucking brother would be beyond dangerous. I must also confess that I am not a fan of deserts or the over-55 types places. As far as the latter, I like the little families that you find in RV parks and campgrounds. Often, Don and I will see a little family of cuties, and we kind of secretly adopt them. Not as creepy as it sounds, trust me. We also love the energy of a park that is filled with adventurous spirits - and big rigs that we enjoy lusting after. Nothing against the lovely people of Golden Village, but...a lot of the adventure seemed to be the indoor shuffleboard and Rascal Scooter drag races. As far as deserts, I must admit, I don't like them. At all. I understand that there are lovers of every type of topography and landscape - tree-covered mountains, vast prairies and plains, or rugged coastlines, big, vibrant cities or small towns...or a small, tropical island. My mom is among those who love the desert - the austere and hostile looking terrain that looks devoid of life, but upon closer examination, or a drenching rain, shows itself to be full of life. But I still don't like deserts. There were plenty of Palm trees - but these, unlike the coconut trees that look like they are in a perpetual state of hula, these date palms stand straight as an arrow, and their fronds are as stiff as a laquered feather duster.
So now we are in our favorite RV park. It's near the kids - only about ten minutes away as opposed to thirty or forty - and it's sites are large and grassy. It's quite popular. For that reason, we are having to leave it tomorrow and park on the street near Kyle and Kristin's or in the nearest Walmart. It seems that for the next three weekends, this place is sold out. oops. But, after June 6, we should be able to be here for a month...then have to leave for a night...then return for another 29 days....back to Walmart for a night...return here for another 29 days - and then we have to be out for at least six months. Hopefully, we'll be returning to Maui by then, so it won't be an issue, but you get the point. We're not going to get any moss under our feet - or wheels - while we are here on the mainland.
There have been a couple other big things on our busy social calendar: my friend and business partner, Autumn's wedding, and #2 son, Greg's, graduation.
Egad. Just looked at the time. It's almost 1:00 a.m. I'll have to write about Autumn's wedding and Greg's graduation another time. I'd better get some sleep. I'm moving tomorrow. Again.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Surrender, Submit, and Obey
Jesus was a carpenter by trade. I can see by your face that you are astounded by my vast Biblical knowledge. But, there is a point to my obvious...obviousness. Jesus was a carpenter - not a travel agent nor a self-realization guru. He wasn't a genie in a bottle. Or a political diplomat, or any kind of diplomat, for that matter. Or an advise columnist. He was simply a carpenter. He also was, and IS, God. Again - obvious. Yet, at times, I have treated Jesus as though He was all of those other things - especially in the last few months.
When things started going amiss (a mess!?!?) back in Maui, I began praying and praying. Not that I hadn't always been praying. My relationship with the Lord was wonderful. I was in the Word daily, sitting on the lounge on our lanai, listening to mynahs and frankolins, and looking at at majestic Moloka'i surrounded by a thread of blue sea. I did daily devotionals with my husband, and we prayed together - for our loved ones, our church, and ourselves. I was very involved in our church family. Don was busy with his business. I was writing and painting and making a home for us. It was a lovely, peaceful time.
And then things started going south. Don had, not one, but two, different clients go buy stuff from other agents. He was being squeezed out of a co-listing, to the point where he finally told the other agent to take it (and, no, there was no other suggestion as to what to do with said listing!). He finally changed brokerages, and things seemed to be picking up. Don is a great buyer's agent who advocates for his clients so they can get what they want (note: the clients who bailed likely paid much more than had they stayed with Don), and he began working with his new broker with clients from California - six individuals trying to choose a vacation home. After tons of hours and miles and properties, the six couldn't choose - but chose to blame Don and his broker. All the while, we were praying. And the funds were disappearing. But Don got a listing for a property across from the ocean. Was this God's answer to our prayers? Was this the provision we had been seeking while on our knees?
Then our landlord opted to not renew the lease.
There was a time a few weeks before that we thought we would have to return to the mainland, but after a long, prayerful conversation with our pastor, Steve, we realized that this was not the time. We were being used in many ways that seemed small, but they had significance. We also needed to trust the Lord for our provision. During this time, we also had the prayerful support of so many. So, now, we had no place to live and not enough money to get a new rental. My prayers began to increase in frequency and intensity. At the eleventh hour, Don's client told us that he had a vacation rental that was available for a couple of months. It was a lovely oceanfront bungalow, but it still required us to pack up and leave a home that we had come to think of as our own. Artwork off the wall. Dishes packed up. Furniture dissembled. All of it then taken to storage. The bed Don and I built. The photography of our island. Paintings that represent so much of our life. The armoire that has the drawer where our granddaughter knows to find Grammy's jewelry. All locked away.
The week after we moved into the bungalow, things seemed to move at breakneck speed. A few months before, we had attempted to sell my Solara convertible. No soap. After much "discussion" and prayer, we decided to sell Don's beautiful Lexus. We had no payments on it, but it would garner a substantial chunk o' change. We thought. After a couple of months and a couple of no-shows, it was rather obvious that, while his car was a beautiful car for a realtor to show folks property, it wasn't a big seller on a tropical island where money is snug. Within a couple of days we got a legit call...on the Solara. Don also got a referral for clients who wanted to buy property on the Big Island. Big, fancy, expensive property. So, within days of moving out of our home in Ka'anapali and into the little bungalow in Lahaina, we sold the convertible which funded our trip to the Big Island to find big fancy property for some rich people. Praise God! God had answered our prayers the way we all wanted Him to.
I won't clutter this with more details than already crammed in here, but within a matter of weeks, Don had these folks in escrow on a dream property in Kona, Don's listing went into escrow and he had both sides of the deal, we put our beloved doggy in boarding when we moved into the little vacation condo, Don's clients' cancelled that escrow, Don put them in escrow in a second gorgeous estate, we used the last of our frequent flyer miles to fly home for Christmas, flew to Arizona to see Don's clients, I got hired by the same clients to do a destination wedding for their horse trainer on their soon-to-be Hawaii property, flew back to SD, made plans for all the kids to once again come out to visit in Maui in March, flew back home to the little condo, Don flew back to Kona to inspect the property, all the while communicating regularly with them about Real Estate documents and weddings and how amazing it will be for them to live in Hawaii. Then they stopped communicating - about everything. Their lawyer took over. Then things began to fall apart. We could not buy tickets for the kids. We could not move to another house and spring our furniture from storage and our pup from the doggy hoosegow. By mid-March, the deal was dead. By April 5th, we had the notice from the Homeowners Association. We were done.
And all this time, we were praying. Our family was praying. Our friends were praying. God answered, but the answer was "no". We thought we were buying God's favor by continuing to serve at our church. Don continued to work hard - working sometimes late into the night - on the short sale, which was proving to be quite complicated. I focussed on writing - both book and blog. We always knew that God is able. Able to pull something out of absolutely nothing. Yes, God is able. But He must also be willing, and this time, He was not. He asked us to surrender what we wanted and thought was necessary for our happiness. He asked us to submit our formidable wills to His wiser will. He asked us to obey Him - no matter our hurt and humiliation and anger and confusion.
So, when I asked God to be our travel agent and book only the journey we wanted to take, He said "no - take the better, if crazier, journey I have designed for you". Instead of a book titled "I'm Okay, You're Okay" by a nice, affirming guru, He wrote a book called The Bible, whose subtitle could be "I'm God, You're Messed Up, Read How Much I Love You Anyway". When I asked Him to give me all my wishes, He said "those aren't good enough for you. Be with me in Eternity and I'll show you some stuff that will blow your mind". I whined about friends that weren't being so nice to me and what should I do about it, He pointed to His Word which has every answer about long-suffering and loving friends - and the story of how His friends didn't treat Him right. I complained vehemently about how unfair the whole thing was. Jesus pointed to the stripes on His back and the wounds in His hands and feet where He took the punishment that was "fairly" mine.
So, here we are, in a figurative and literal desert. My skin does not like to be this dry. My legs kind of look like camel-colored alligator skin dusted with talc. If I thought the clothes storage situation was dicey, you should see what passes as offices for Don and me. What is supposed to be our dining area now has my computer, our printer, and all paper and office supplies. Don's desk is about 20" wide and 15" deep, where he keeps his laptop and various real estate...stuff. On the plus side, his office chair is also a recliner, so those mid-work-day power naps are easier than ever. But there is never a doubt that we are here at God's behest. Granted, we're still clueless - but that's a reeeeeally familiar condition.
So now, we work on the surrender, submit, and obey. And, yes, it is still a daily, difficult battle. But God is good. He is endlessly good.
When things started going amiss (a mess!?!?) back in Maui, I began praying and praying. Not that I hadn't always been praying. My relationship with the Lord was wonderful. I was in the Word daily, sitting on the lounge on our lanai, listening to mynahs and frankolins, and looking at at majestic Moloka'i surrounded by a thread of blue sea. I did daily devotionals with my husband, and we prayed together - for our loved ones, our church, and ourselves. I was very involved in our church family. Don was busy with his business. I was writing and painting and making a home for us. It was a lovely, peaceful time.
And then things started going south. Don had, not one, but two, different clients go buy stuff from other agents. He was being squeezed out of a co-listing, to the point where he finally told the other agent to take it (and, no, there was no other suggestion as to what to do with said listing!). He finally changed brokerages, and things seemed to be picking up. Don is a great buyer's agent who advocates for his clients so they can get what they want (note: the clients who bailed likely paid much more than had they stayed with Don), and he began working with his new broker with clients from California - six individuals trying to choose a vacation home. After tons of hours and miles and properties, the six couldn't choose - but chose to blame Don and his broker. All the while, we were praying. And the funds were disappearing. But Don got a listing for a property across from the ocean. Was this God's answer to our prayers? Was this the provision we had been seeking while on our knees?
Then our landlord opted to not renew the lease.
There was a time a few weeks before that we thought we would have to return to the mainland, but after a long, prayerful conversation with our pastor, Steve, we realized that this was not the time. We were being used in many ways that seemed small, but they had significance. We also needed to trust the Lord for our provision. During this time, we also had the prayerful support of so many. So, now, we had no place to live and not enough money to get a new rental. My prayers began to increase in frequency and intensity. At the eleventh hour, Don's client told us that he had a vacation rental that was available for a couple of months. It was a lovely oceanfront bungalow, but it still required us to pack up and leave a home that we had come to think of as our own. Artwork off the wall. Dishes packed up. Furniture dissembled. All of it then taken to storage. The bed Don and I built. The photography of our island. Paintings that represent so much of our life. The armoire that has the drawer where our granddaughter knows to find Grammy's jewelry. All locked away.
The week after we moved into the bungalow, things seemed to move at breakneck speed. A few months before, we had attempted to sell my Solara convertible. No soap. After much "discussion" and prayer, we decided to sell Don's beautiful Lexus. We had no payments on it, but it would garner a substantial chunk o' change. We thought. After a couple of months and a couple of no-shows, it was rather obvious that, while his car was a beautiful car for a realtor to show folks property, it wasn't a big seller on a tropical island where money is snug. Within a couple of days we got a legit call...on the Solara. Don also got a referral for clients who wanted to buy property on the Big Island. Big, fancy, expensive property. So, within days of moving out of our home in Ka'anapali and into the little bungalow in Lahaina, we sold the convertible which funded our trip to the Big Island to find big fancy property for some rich people. Praise God! God had answered our prayers the way we all wanted Him to.
I won't clutter this with more details than already crammed in here, but within a matter of weeks, Don had these folks in escrow on a dream property in Kona, Don's listing went into escrow and he had both sides of the deal, we put our beloved doggy in boarding when we moved into the little vacation condo, Don's clients' cancelled that escrow, Don put them in escrow in a second gorgeous estate, we used the last of our frequent flyer miles to fly home for Christmas, flew to Arizona to see Don's clients, I got hired by the same clients to do a destination wedding for their horse trainer on their soon-to-be Hawaii property, flew back to SD, made plans for all the kids to once again come out to visit in Maui in March, flew back home to the little condo, Don flew back to Kona to inspect the property, all the while communicating regularly with them about Real Estate documents and weddings and how amazing it will be for them to live in Hawaii. Then they stopped communicating - about everything. Their lawyer took over. Then things began to fall apart. We could not buy tickets for the kids. We could not move to another house and spring our furniture from storage and our pup from the doggy hoosegow. By mid-March, the deal was dead. By April 5th, we had the notice from the Homeowners Association. We were done.
And all this time, we were praying. Our family was praying. Our friends were praying. God answered, but the answer was "no". We thought we were buying God's favor by continuing to serve at our church. Don continued to work hard - working sometimes late into the night - on the short sale, which was proving to be quite complicated. I focussed on writing - both book and blog. We always knew that God is able. Able to pull something out of absolutely nothing. Yes, God is able. But He must also be willing, and this time, He was not. He asked us to surrender what we wanted and thought was necessary for our happiness. He asked us to submit our formidable wills to His wiser will. He asked us to obey Him - no matter our hurt and humiliation and anger and confusion.
So, when I asked God to be our travel agent and book only the journey we wanted to take, He said "no - take the better, if crazier, journey I have designed for you". Instead of a book titled "I'm Okay, You're Okay" by a nice, affirming guru, He wrote a book called The Bible, whose subtitle could be "I'm God, You're Messed Up, Read How Much I Love You Anyway". When I asked Him to give me all my wishes, He said "those aren't good enough for you. Be with me in Eternity and I'll show you some stuff that will blow your mind". I whined about friends that weren't being so nice to me and what should I do about it, He pointed to His Word which has every answer about long-suffering and loving friends - and the story of how His friends didn't treat Him right. I complained vehemently about how unfair the whole thing was. Jesus pointed to the stripes on His back and the wounds in His hands and feet where He took the punishment that was "fairly" mine.
So, here we are, in a figurative and literal desert. My skin does not like to be this dry. My legs kind of look like camel-colored alligator skin dusted with talc. If I thought the clothes storage situation was dicey, you should see what passes as offices for Don and me. What is supposed to be our dining area now has my computer, our printer, and all paper and office supplies. Don's desk is about 20" wide and 15" deep, where he keeps his laptop and various real estate...stuff. On the plus side, his office chair is also a recliner, so those mid-work-day power naps are easier than ever. But there is never a doubt that we are here at God's behest. Granted, we're still clueless - but that's a reeeeeally familiar condition.
So now, we work on the surrender, submit, and obey. And, yes, it is still a daily, difficult battle. But God is good. He is endlessly good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)