a cozy close out to 2011

Anyone who knows us in real life knows that while we love people, we are not big late-night partyers. At all. So it should not come as much of a surprise that the entire family will be ringing in the new year in our pajamas, likely sound asleep.

However before the kids went to bed tonight, I had a special experience with them that I don't want to forget. We have had a great Christmas season so far, with lots of quality time with family and friends and fun reunions. Today, however, was spent with just the five of us, on a nine-hour-long road trip, as we traveled from my parents' home to see my husband's parents in south Georgia. And because we are here, our kiddos are all sleeping on the floor together for a couple of nights. After the expected grumblings about the inconveniences of sleeping on (carpeted!) floors, my attempts at reminding them that baby Jesus--God incarnate--took his first breaths surrounded by stinky animals and had a feeding trough for a bed, and my husband and I exchanging knowing looks about the upcoming challenges of mission life, it was time for these tired little people to get to bed.

Before we said nighttime prayers, I asked them to each try and recall a favorite memory from this year. Initially I got generic answers like "my class," and "Stone," their awesome school, which of course they are missing. But as I prodded a little further and reminded them of some of our many fun experiences in 2011, all three kids really got into this little trip down memory lane. We recalled the freak snowstorm in January that knocked out our home heating system for several days, during which time we moved in with our incredible neighbors, who have since become like family to us. We spoke of sledding in the winter, and road-tripping to NJ/NYC (via VA and Baltimore) to visit dear old friends for spring break. We remembered the glorious trip we enjoyed to Newfoundland in the summer, with a few days on the coast where we enjoyed hiking, relaxing, skipping stones, and catching glimpses of whales; then Caroline's debut performance as a flower girl in my cousin's wedding. We recalled summertime fun at my parents' pool, Caroline's entry into kindergarten (no more naps!), and kooky Halloween costumes. We spoke of great birthday celebrations and a few of the fun performances that they enjoyed participating in throughout the year, including Madison's ballet and Indian dances, and Joshua's violin and swim meets. We thought of our yummy Thanksgiving dinner and the chance that we had to share it with good friends and family. Caroline reminded us of how, towards the end of the year, "we sold all our stuff." And we didn't have to stretch too far back to recall the joys of Christmas in 2011 :)

And as our babes snuggled up and I prayed with them, I reminded them (and especially myself) that the same God who brought us through this year of joys and disappointments, of expected and unexpected gifts and challenges--that this same God will be with us through the new year that begins in just a little while.  2012 surely holds lots of new experiences for us all, and I wanted the kids to be reassured that we will be okay, despite the countless transitions that are coming our way. Our Lord has been faithful in all things, big and small, and we rest in His promise to continue to keep us safe, in the new year and always, in the protection of His loving embrace.

Happy 2012 everyone.

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

Hebrews 13:5

leavings are hard

(This post was originally written on December 11, 2011--then with all the moving details, it got shelved until today.)

This phrase, "leavings are hard," is one that our parish priest used in a message some time ago, and the words really stuck with my husband.  He's been repeating them to me these past few months as I've pondered the difficulty of leaving the beautiful community of friends we have found here in Greenville.  And in these last several days, these words have come into my mind again and again.

It first happened when I had to say goodbye to many sweet friends who also happened to be colleagues at the pediatric practice where I worked.  Although I love to think and reflect through my writing, public speaking is not my forte.  Nevertheless, I felt moved to say a few words at the lunch that was given on my last day of work, and found myself speaking through many, many tears as I said a collective goodbye to that special group of people.  It's a very unique and wonderful experience to work side-by-side with people who not only love what they do, but treat others (including and especially patients) just as they would treat a family member--with enthusiasm, respect, understanding, and extraordinary kindness.  It made for many enjoyable work days, and no matter how challenging or busy we were, it was such a privilege to be in that setting.

For the weeks since then, our days have been so full that I've not had a whole lot of opportunity to feel the impending loss of our move away from here.  While I've talked about how hard it will be to leave, the busyness of the holiday season (kids' choir recitals, church pageants, swim meets, family visits), along with the endless list of things to do in preparation for our move, have kept me distracted enough to hold it together...until recently.

Last Friday night was Joshua and Madison's final children's choir concert.  This community choir is led by our school's music teacher and her husband, and Joshua was invited to be part of it within weeks after our arrival here, with Madison joining on a year later.  My husband and I have delighted in watching our kids develop both an impressive knowledge of and keen appreciation for music through this experience.  They've learned not only a number of technical aspects of music, but have also developed much discipline, stage presence, and the important lessons of truly working as part of a larger team.  It has been one of their most treasured activities, and so to realize that it was coming to a close after their Christmas program was almost too much for me.  After the spectacular concert, I so wanted to capture a picture of the kids with their remarkably talented and giving directors--but I was simply in too much of a puddle to talk to anyone.  Luckily my husband swooped in and brought everyone together for me.  I don't think I'll ever look at this wonderful picture without remembering how grateful and emotional I felt as I captured it:

The following Thursday, I had to say goodbye to my favorite instructor at our wonderful YMCA.  I know, an exercise instructor hardly seems like someone who'd bring tears to my eyes, but nevertheless, when I handed her a prayer card and she promised to put it on her fridge and keep us in her prayers, I could hardly speak.  I was suddenly struck with the realization that even in the place where I exercise, I am surrounded by supportive and faithful people...and how many people can say that?

Last Sunday evening was the children's Christmas pageant at our Methodist church and it was the first chance I had to share our plans with a few of our friends there.  Just watching their reactions of surprise, and then understanding, and then, inevitably, sincere support along with some kind words about how much we will be missed--all these were enough to start the waterworks yet again.

This morning at our Catholic parish, I was again a bit of a mess.  Just talking to friends, old and new, saying goodbye to our dear Sister Catherine who was on her way out of town this week, beginning our goodbye to our beloved Father Pat--all these made for more emotions than anticipated early this morning.

And then we proceeded on with our normal Sunday morning routine, which includes heading over to our Methodist church for the kids' Sunday school and then to the worship service as a family.  What made today so difficult was the fact that we knew this would be our last Sunday there.  Our plans are to pack up the house and drive out of town next Sunday after Mass, so today was the (dreaded) day for real goodbyes to our sweet friends at St. Matthew's.  When I went to gather the kids after their Sunday school classes, I as met by a number of friends who asked if this was, in fact, our last day there.  And then the tears began for many of us.  A couple of my friends (who are the kids' teachers) stated that they couldn't even look at the kids because it made them so emotional to realize the difficulty of our separation.  Joshua's class gave him a really nice daily devotional, made even more special by the personal inscriptions by his teacher and each member of his class.  We hugged goodbyes with promises for penpal-ing, emailing, and even Skype-ing if possible!  The worship service wasn't much better for me--I was constantly reminded of how warmly we have been welcomed into the fold of this loving church community, the friends we have made and the support we have received on so many levels.  This is where my kids have grown to know so much about the Lord and His holy Word, where they've been nurtured through fun VBS experiences and solid Sunday school curricula, where we've made great friends, and where we, as a family, had our first opportunity for local missionary work--through our participation in the city-wide interfaith hospitality network that hosts homeless families at our church twice a year.  And as if all this weren't enough to be filling my mind, the closing hymn was none other than "Blest Be the Tie That Binds."  Suffice it to say that I was unable to get through the song.  So very many emotions, thanksgivings, and poignant realizations all at once.

I've often been asked why (and how) we choose to worship with two faith communities every Sunday.  That is a subject for another post on another day, but the bottom line is that my husband and I desire to share with our children the richness of both of our faith traditions.  This morning I realized that along with the ongoing growth along our journey of faith, one of the greatest blessings of our "double belonging" is that we have the gift of twice as many precious friends in Christ!

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

Before our Father's throne

We pour our ardent prayers;

Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one,

Our comforts and our cares.

We share our mutual woes,

Our mutual burdens bear;

And often for each other flows

The sympathizing tear.

When we asunder part,

It gives us inward pain;

But we shall still be joined in heart,

And hope to meet again.

africa--some details

The wonderful director of Mission Doctors Association, Elise Frederick, went on a site visit to Tanzania early last month to evaluate whether a hospital community there might be a good place for us to be stationed.  During her two weeks overseas, we prayed often for her, wondered what she was seeing and thinking, and hoped that she would be able to answer at least some of the questions on our "what is it really like over there?" list.  When the date for her return came and went and we hadn't heard anything that weekend, or for the week after, we almost couldn't stand the anticipation.  And by "we," I really mean "me."  My husband has the patience of a saint and would likely be quite happy still waiting for an update.  Anyone who knows me well, however, must know that I operate not just on a need-to-know basis, but on a need-to-know-right-now thankyouverymuch basis.  Anyway, all that to say, once Elise got over some of her jet lag and reacquainted with her life in the U.S., she and I sat down for a wonderful phone reunion and I learned more than I anticipated about our likely new home for the next three years.  Here are some of the pertinent (and I think interesting) details:

• we will be living among a Benedictine community of brothers and sisters (monks and nuns), roughly two hours from the southeastern coast of Tanzania.  On that campus there is an abbey as well as living quarters, and some shops where the brothers train local people on various trades (woodworking and metallurgy are two that I remember).
• the Benedictine church there is over 106 years old and apparently beautiful and somewhat contemparary in its style and artwork
• because we will live in that community, we will have some exposure to other international volunteers (I'm not sure of the number, but I know that Elise mentioned a family from Sweden and both Dutch and Swiss doctors, and possibly another doctor from the U.S.)
• also because we will be part of the community, we will have access to a swimming hole that is a mile or so up a hill from the hospital.  Swimming?  Really--in Africa?  She said that every afternoon at about 4pm, she'd see a contingent of people heading up the hill, each with a towel under his/her arm, for an afternoon swim. Wow.  Didn't I just say something about Joshua having to hang up his goggles for three years?
• the hospital there is a 300 bed facility with a large range of departments, with a busy outpatient clinic, and serving a wide catchment area.  She mentioned that they somehow manage to treat around 400 patients in that 300 bed hospital.  Clearly, a busy place with many needs.
• she also shared that since Swahili is the national language, MDA would be sending us to language school for six weeks upon our arrival in Tanzania.  That was completely unexpected, but very good news for us all.  We're excited at the opportunity to immerse ourselves with the local population whom we will serve, and we trust that having some fundamentals of the language will go a long way towards helping us truly become a part of that community.
• she described the housing as simple and clean--cinder block walls and cement floors, and she was so excited to share that electricity is reliable and the water is wonderfully clean ("good enough to drink right from the tap!").  That is huge news, as we had been advised earlier that we'd likely need to invest in a water filter for our time there. 
• and most significantly (for me anyway), she shared that there is no primary school in the immediate area.  I've since wondered (and had friends ask) where the children of all the patients and hospital workers and the surrounding community get an education, but all such questions are really moot, in light of the fact that there simply is not a school option for our kids.  Now the old me (that is, really just a year or so ago) would have balked at the fact that I am about to turn into a homeschooling mommy.  The new (and I hope improved) me is honestly kind of excited.  This has been a transformation that has been ongoing for some time now.  Having done lots of reading, asking questions, researching, meeting wonderful examples of both homeschooling parents and children, and attending a great homeschooling conference with my husband this summer--all have worked towards preparing me to not only accept, but to welcome, this new phase.  The kids reactions have been split--Madison is over the moon excited, Joshua is withholding judgement until we get started (but I think secretly kind of pleased), and Caroline hasn't really had the chance to hear or grasp the details.  We know that the options for homeschooling curriculae are seemingly endless, and we've got lots of legwork ahead as we navigate this new course.  But the bottom line is that we are doing this--we're saying yes to the many unexpected challenges and joys, and in return we get much more time with our precious kids, get to take part in their education, and get to serve God in a way that we've not had the opportunity for in the past--and we are thankful for every part in the process.

So, reliable electricity, clean water, a swimming hole up the hill and homeschooling everyday for three years.  All good news, but who could have predicted it?

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21 (NIV)

                                                                                                                    

the swimmer

Because the girls have each had a birthday since we started this blog, both of them have had posts dedicated to their histories, unique personalities, and such.  I must admit, however, that the [justice-seeking, always-wanting-to-be-fair] first child in me has been feeling a little guilty that our firstborn has not had the opportunity to shine in our little corner of the blog world.

Well, we're about to change all that right now.

My husband is skilled in many things, only one of which includes his exceptional swimming ability.  Even now, far-removed from his days on his small town’s high school swim team, he enjoys great swim workouts at our YMCA at least two or three times per week.  He always says that in his triathlon days, swimming was far and away his strongest event (he was apparently the “second one out of the water at Callaway Gardens" back in the late 80s).

And now we have learned that Joshua has inherited his father’s (thank goodness!) great swimming talent and has thoroughly enjoyed participating in a year-round swim team here in Greenville.  He started back in 2009, after a swim teacher in El Paso deemed him “ready for swim team,” and he’s absolutely loved it since.  This kid who had been just fine with YMCA soccer for years, suddenly found a sport where he could shine.  The individuality of swimming, the discipline of multiple practices each week, the rigor and reward of pushing his body a little more each time, and the huge energy burn that he experiences with every practice--all these have been gifts for our little man's wonderful and somewhat intense personality.

He is thriving in this sport, and is understandably a little bummed that he'll have to say goodbye to it while we are overseas.  And as he has matured both physically and emotionally through this experience, I have found my own growth as well.  I finally get the whole parental pride in kids' sports now.  Not a haughty idea that my kid is better than others, but rather an amazing satisfaction at seeing Joshua's sense of accomplishment.  What a gift to see him be so focused, work so hard, do something he loves so much, and enjoy the benefits of it all.

 

 Joshua has always been a great student, one for whom academic stuff seems to come fairly easily.  And while he's certainly got (his dad's) genetics on his side, swimming is neither natural nor easy for him. Of course I would never wish unnecessary hardships on my kids, but I think it's an awesome experience for Joshua to be truly stretched, challenged, and sometimes humbled in this endeavor.

And finally, with full knowledge that I am far from objective when it comes to our little ones, I've gotta say that this boy's butterfly is something to behold!

 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,  I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 3:13-14

october beach memories

My love for the beach has been well-documented on this blog, so I'll refrain from the usual verbosity here.  I just want to record some of the wonderful memories we made when we visited a lovely beach on South Carolina's coast during the kids' fall break in mid-October.

The weather was spectacular the entire four days we were there.  Beautiful cool mornings gave way to warm, sunny days.  It was a peaceful, relaxing, much-appreciated time to both slow down and have some fun. 

Because we were well into the fall season (even though we are in the south), the water was too cold for sane people to swim.   

Smart people stayed on the warm sand and enjoyed things like walking, relaxing, building sandcastles, reading, sunning, and snacking.

A highlight activity of our trip was biking.  This is something that we'd hoped to enjoy as a family for a while now, and it was such fun to share this activity with the kids.

Our rides took us through neighborhoods and quiet streets, near a small airport, and along the main drag through town--all just a stone's throw from the beach.

We especially enjoyed the rides that took us to mealtime destinations...both breakfast and lunch.

Yummy hot chocolate after a slightly chilly morning ride 

And delicious brick-oven pizza after a 20 minute jaunt through the city streets

Our fearless leader (wearing his "you are the best daddy in the world" necklace from Madison)

 Our very first biking expedition took us to lunch at a very nice, open air market.  And, back by popular (Powers kids) demand, we dined on the water at Joe's Crab Shack.  The food was actually quite good--fresh seafood and all the brown paper towels you can get--but the entertainment was even better.  No, since we were there in the middle of the day, we didn't get treated to the hourly dance by the servers.  Instead, we delighted in our girls' creativity and freedom with the bibs we were given with our crab plates.  Who knew that those flimsy pieces of plastic could transform you into dancing, flying, smiling superheroes?

Such fun!

A surprising freedom that my husband and I have enjoyed as our children have gotten a bit older has been the opportunity to take early morning walks on the beach.  We leave them a note and a cell phone, take the other phone with us, lock 'em in the condo, and keep our walking radius within about 7-8 minutes.  Most mornings, the kids slept right through, and my husband and I got not only the gift of a glorious sunrise, but also an hour of brisk walking and much-needed talking.  What a gift... 

Mingled with the joy of this vacation time for our family was the realization that this was the last beach trip we'd enjoy for a long time.  While I don't think it dampened our fun, I think it did help us to relish our time there all the more.

One of my goals (I know, I shouldn't have "goals" on vacation, but it is what it is) on this trip was to get a nice family picture.  Armed with little more than a tripod, my basic point and shoot camera, and a whole lot of enthusiasm, we set out one evening as the sun started to set.

I won't soon forget the challenges inherent in getting five people with five strong personalities and a whole bunch of distractibility to sit still and smile pretty for the camera.  My little Caroline led the charge of people-wanting-to-quit-before-we-even-started.  Somehow, however, when it was me (and not the 10 second timer on the camera) taking the picture, she was capable of results like this sweetness: 

And those boys were able to produce smiles this great:

 

And my loving Madison even captured one of us that I really liked:

 In the end, we did get a couple of decent shots, but it taught me a lesson that I learn over and over as a parent: my well-intended plans are no match for my children's moods and needs and desires.  Unless it is a matter of life or death, I need to make some space for their wishes as well as mine.  Learning flexibility and patience is an ongoing journey for this mommy.

And just a glimpse at what happened when the pressure to force a smile was gone, and the true spirit of these kiddos had a chance to shine.

A spontaneous show of affection

And an oft-witnessed scene these days--Madison in full, energized, bouncy cartwheel form :)

WIthout a doubt, there's a whole lotta joy in this gang...

It was a great time.  We loved the fun, the discoveries, and the chance to enjoy lots of new activities.

 And of course, sometimes the very best activity was no activity at all...

Have I mentioned how very much I love the beach?

our leap

We hear a lot about having faith, trusting in what we cannot see, and relinquishing control in our lives as Christians.  I thought that we were doing our best to live our lives in this manner (and I think that to some extent we were), but we felt called to "walk by faith and not by sight" on a whole new level just over one year ago.  This is something that I've wanted to write about for quite a while now, so this may end up being a bit of a long story (shocking, I know).

When my husband and I met in medical school, one of the things that drew us to each other was our Christian faith.  As we grew in friendship, I shared with him my hope to one day serve as a medical missionary.  This desire had grown out of many things--being raised in a loving home where caring for the less fortunate was always a priority, having enjoyed many family trips to India and witnessing firsthand the multitude of needs facing people in a developing nation, and I suppose a simple yearning to help those who need it most.  My husband was intrigued by the prospect and certainly gave it some serious consideration.  Even back then, some 18 years ago now, we both felt drawn to this call and this way of life, especially when we had the opportunity to meet with visiting physicians who had served as missionaries overseas.  There was something about their experience, perspective, and joy in living out their faith in a most concrete fashion, that was so attractive to us.

We felt even more pulled to the work of international missions after we got the chance to spend an incredible 4 weeks as observers in a mission hospital in south India in early 1997.  The Christian Medical College in Vellore, Tamil Nadu, was one that I had long heard my parents and friends speak of in the highest regard.  It was known as a premier place of training for physicians, and my (then brand-new) husband and I were so grateful that we were able to arrange some time there while we traveled to India to meet my extended family, just weeks after our wedding.  While there, we not only met some fascinating people from all over the world (Australia, Great Britain, and Houston, TX, to name a few), but we also got the unique opportunity to see outstanding medical care being delivered to persons in very high need.  There was something so fulfilling about being a (albeit extremely small) part of that process.  There was a contentment and sense of purpose there that we have rarely witnessed since.  So there we were, just months from graduating from medical school, full of hope and dreams and ready to change the world.

And then, quite frankly, life happened.

We started and completed our respective residencies in Houston, TX.  My husband decided to volunteer for the U.S. Army as a primary care physician, and then went on for further training as a pulmonary/critical care doctor.  And, most wonderfully, we were blessed with one then two then three little miracles who have kept us busy and stretched and humbled and joy-filled every day since.

So then fast forward to early 2010, when we had finally completed my husband's commitment to the army, we'd nestled into the amazing community of Greenville, SC, and thought we had found the place to put down some roots and raise our little brood.  And somewhere in the midst of all that settling, my husband began to feel a little unsettled.  He started to see the deficiencies in our US healthcare system--not a lack of technology or science, but a slow pull from the compassionate, giving, deliberate way of caring that had drawn us to medicine in the first place.  The demands of our culture and our medical system are so many that the systems seemed to be replacing the relationships.  The need to bill at a certain level, take care of a very high number of people with tremendously complicated problems, in a sometimes unreasonably short amount of time, were taking their toll on my husband.  But at the very same time, these stressors were opening a door to a most unexpected possibility for us.

During those days of questioning and searching, as we wrestled with how specifically we were being called to serve God, we found ourselves drawn once again to the possibility of medical missions.  To be completely honest, my vision for missionary work had always been on a short-term basis.  You know, take a few weeks off from work, pack up our kiddos, hop on a plane and give a little love and medical care to the needy, then head back to our lives of carpet and Thai take-out and manicured lawns and Disney vacations.  Nothing wrong with that.  Really.  But my husband's vision was taking on a new form.  Something a bit more committed...and involved...and sacrificial.

At the risk of losing my readership (or the patience of my sweet 5 year old playing Barbies behind me) here, I'm going to fast forward once more.  My husband did the legwork of researching various missionary organizations, narrowed it down to just a couple of groups that sent entire families, and then in September of 2010, we found ourselves (all five of us), on a discernment weekend in Los Angeles, with the Mission Doctors Association.  This group has been sending both physicians and their families to developing countries around the world for over 50 years now.  They clearly knew what they were doing, but I wasn't sold on the whole three-year commitment just yet.  I remember sending an email prayer request to some of our closest friends before we headed to L.A.  In the email, I shared that my desire was that I would get out of the way and make room for the Holy Spirit to make God's plan clear to us.  And boy did He deliver.  Every one of my doubts, concerns, challenges, and fears was not only answered, but was also embraced and accepted and understood.  We met with a wide array of former missionaries, people who had found themselves in the same place we had--right in the middle of life, but wanting so much to be the hands and feet of Christ in a radical and whole-life kind of way.  To say that I left that discernment weekend full of peace and assurance would be an understatement.  By the end of those four days, we knew (as much as any human can know anything I suppose) that this was what we were meant to do.

Let me not, however, glamorize this choice too much.  There have been hard decisions to make along the way, and many moments of doubt and fear as well.  We have had to buckle down with our financial decisions, trudge through the expected doubts and questions of our children and some acquaintances, and every single day place our trust in the One who promises to never leave us or forsake us.  I have had to leave a job that I loved more than any I've ever experienced.  My colleagues and patients are furthering God's kingdom right here in upstate South Carolina, and I felt a tremendous sense of fulfillment as part of that wonderful pediatric practice--and will miss it terribly.  Our children started this school year with the knowledge that they would not be here past Christmas time, and that is nothing short of devastating when you are 10, 8, or 5.  My husband is leaving patients that he adores, and facing questions about our admittedly counter-cultural decision all the time.  We have had to seriously consider the option of homeschooling the kids, depending on the academic options that exist wherever we are sent to serve.  And that may mean that my opportunities for medical service are seriously limited during those years.  We are just beginning the hard work of literally going through all our earthly possessions, one at a time, and making the tough decisions to "store, sell, or donate."  There is much work to be done, of this I am acutely aware.

And yet, despite all of that, we are walking forward, one step at a time.  Because even though there are many hurdles along the way, the joys are so many more.  We have seen God throw open a great many doors of unexpected blessing on this journey.  I hope to record some of them in the future.  For now I will close by saying that the occasional peace that comes with this leap of faith is indescribable.  There are simply transcendent moments where everything else falls away, and we rest in the knowledge that we are safe and secure, right in the palm of our Father's hand.

Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the LORD Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.  Malachi 3:10, NIV

bikes at the beach

We are enjoying a much-anticipated and planned-for few days at the beach right now.  And after a busy-as-usual couple of weeks back at home, we are relishing in the slow pace, lack of schedules, and lazy days.  As my husband and I take a few minutes to happily pull out our laptops for non-work stuff, I want to remember an experience that I had yesterday.

Just before we headed out from home on Wednesday afternoon, we surprised Madison with an early Christmas gift--a new bike.  She finally learned to bike on her own on Mother's Day this year, but has not been altogether comfortable or fluid in her biking skills while riding Joshua's old--and terribly small--Spiderman bike.  It simply was a poor fit, and it resulted in a wobbly ride and a drop in confidence for our sweet girl.  It just hasn't been a very positive time for her.  

Not too surprisingly, the moment she mounted her new bicycle, Madison's experience of biking has risen to a new level.  She is steady, confident, independent, and free...and she loves to bike!  And what a great place to ride as a family.  Yesterday we rolled through quiet neiborhoods, navigated crossing one busy intersection, and made our way to a fun (and yes, touristy) outdoor market and restaurant.  It's been fun to realize this new activity that we can all participate in and enjoy as a family.  Now that Madison is riding better, and Joshua is riding very well on his own, Caroline gets to occupy the wonderful bike tandem/trailer that allows her a little independence while securely attached to her Daddy's bike.  All this leads me to the whole point of this post...

As we were cruising along yesterday, I was filled with such joy for Madison and her newfound skill.  While my husband led our little caravan, I brought in the rear and assured that everyone in between was safe on the ride.  Here's my view as we rode along:

I couldn't help but realize what a metaphor this was for our life as a family.  No matter where we are or what we are doing, we are taking part in a journey.  This life is all about journey, not destination.  Our destination--the whole point of all that we do and say and experience--is eternal unity with our Creator.  That is our goal, not our little lives down here.  It's an important perspective to have as we navigate this life, as it is so easy to get caught up in our day-to-day concerns and stressors and plans.     

Also as we rode along, I was acutely aware of our placements on our ride.  My husband, not I, was the one leading.  He was the one charting our course and deciding where we would turn, move forward, stop and stay.  We, of course, had discussed our plans and determined together what we would do for the day, however, he was ultimately the one in charge.  My place was at the end of the line.  From that location, I monitored everyone's ride.  I encouraged and praised their successes.  I made sure they were making good choices, that they were safe and secure, and that they were protected from the various dangers and potential pitfalls that lined our route.  That was my role and I loved fulfilling it.  But I was not the leader.  That's a bit of a hard pill to swallow for this admittedly rather independent, somewhat type A, goal-oriented individual.  But as I grow,  I am constantly reminded that our Lord has a particular plan for every one of us...and we simply can't all be the boss.  He's got a perfect model of marriage and family (the love of Christ for His bride, the church) that He lays out very clearly in His Word, and I would do well to honor those guidelines.  When my husband and I work together, respecting the gifts that we have been uniquely given, and following the loving model that God gives us, our family grows closer to each other and closer to the people that God calls us to become.  It's an unbelievable privilege to be a mother and a wife, and to get to be right here on the sidelines as these kiddos grow and mature and learn.  I get to cheer them on, to chide them when they make unwise choices, and to cherish them in all their joys and heartaches.  But I don't get to be the boss.

What a great lesson to learn on a bike ride.

...for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

Luke 18:14, New King James Version

the sweetness of friends

Just a couple of things that I don't want to forget...and I thought I'd use this space to record them.

Caroline went on her first play date yesterday.  As the youngest of three kids, she has been anticipating this milestone for a while now, and was understandably excited as the day approached.  She and her adorable friend from school had (by Caroline's report) a wonderful time--they enjoyed frozen yogurt at a local spot downtown, then they had lots of fun playing at her "SO cool house," which was resplendent with her "own room!" and her "own dresser!" and her "own music box!"  Clearly the observations of a little person who has only known a life of sharing rooms and dressers and a bed and closets and hand-me-downs, and I'm sure that for Caroline the list of injustices goes on...but I digress.  The whole point of writing this down is to remember that when my husband went to pick Caroline up, her sweet playmate was apparently pretty sad devastated that their time together that day was coming to a close.  More specifically, again per Caroline, she "threw herself down on the floor and cried 'but I don't want Caroline to leave!!'"  The tears continued as Caroline and Daddy left the house and were on the driveway, and her friend watched and wept from the window.  This morning as we walked home from dropping Madison and Joshua at school, I got the full report (I worked late last night and Caroline was already asleep when I returned home), including the fact that when this same little friend comes over to our house for a play date, Caroline is "going to cry when she leaves."

Such love!

The other incident that so warmed my heart was this afternoon when I went to the big kids' school to pick them up and I found one of Madison's friends asking her mom as I walked up, "so can I go to say goodbye to Madison now??"  As her friend scooted over to talk to Madison, her mom shared with me that her daughter looked terribly upset ("like she had failed a test or something") when she arrived to pick her up.  She then learned that her daughter was gravely disappointed over the fact that she and Madison "didn't get to sit next to each other" in the carpool line after school.  So after a few minutes of chatting and catching up (did I mention that these two girls are in the same class, and thus are together all day), we all went our separate ways, her friend wearing the sweetest smile on her little face.

These two encounters were so ordinary and yet so precious.  And not because they showcase how lovely my daughters can be--really.  I, too, love my friends, but it's pretty rare that I cherish our time together so much that I weep when we must leave each other's presence.  I don't often feel that a day is ruined because I've missed a potential encounter with a good friend.  Because we'll always have another opportunity, right?  There's always tomorrow for all that, right?...Right?

May I learn from these open-hearted, wildly-loving, generous gals the priceless value of good friends, and may my girls model that sort of radical love as they grow.


 ² He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. ³ And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. ⁵ And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."  Matthew 18:2-5

an apple a day

In what has become a three-year tradition for us, we spent a glorious Saturday morning picking apples at a lovely orchard just over the border in North Carolina.  After a few fairly hectic weekends (mostly happy and filled with good friends and a little travel), it was a welcome treat to start our long Labor Day weekend with a day trip with just our little crew and take in the gifts of mother nature.  And we were lucky enough to reach the gorgeous mountain-top locale soon after the 9am opening time, when the air was still cool (low 70s), the crowds fairly sparse, and the literally melt-in-your-mouth cider donuts still piping hot.

To say that the orchard bore a bountiful harvest this year would not do it justice.  We just kept marveling at how much "low-hanging fruit" we encountered at every turn.  We gathered a bounty this year--golden delicious, gala, asian pear, and even an unexpected collection of delicious peaches.  Joshua has thus far made requests for apple pie, peach cobbler, and applesauce.  

Some favorite memories of the day...

Wide open spaces, where the kids could run and pick and sample at their own pace...with no rules about looking both ways or holding hands to cross the street...and where they enjoyed the freedom to explore a bit without having us constantly right by their side

Beautiful fruit, and lots of it!

The joy of both hauling and tasting an abundance of fresh fruit

Gratitude for beauty and joy all around