I tweeted last week a nod to the famed Forrest Gump - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." No truer words have ever been spoken. You relish days that play out and ignite the sparkle inside when you bite into the caramel and you quietly anticipate going to sleep at the close of days that are a damp cloth like biting into an orange cream. Lately it's been a roller coaster between caramels and orange cream in our world - and I've found myself feeling a bit mired up in the damp cloth days. The muck often seems to build this time of year and, perhaps not coincidentally, seems to echo the notions associated with a pensive, thoughtful Lenten season. This year has been more odd than some in the past and while I typically set out with a path in mind for these posts, today I have no idea where this is going. There's no end game in mind. It's simply obvious to me that there's some disturbance in my soul that's got to work itself out in words on paper and I'm trying to make space for that. I don't know if it's the fact that we've come to the end of a two week break from school, if it's the rain that has decided to return and bring its clouds or if it's the reminders of late that limbo seems to be our new normal. Regardless, there's a wrinkle that I can't quite flatten in my emotional state and I'm trying to work it out.
It's become clear over the years that I'm more and more introverted as I grow older. I've decided that means that I'm increasingly comfortable with being with me - and that's a good thing. Being with people still gives me great joy, don't get me wrong, but my batteries need recharging more regularly these days. The idea of a two-week spring break might just be one of the most wonderful ideas ever. I really loved it and I really loved having Henry and Lydia at home - we have fun together. Last year we traveled and that was ideal. Philip's full-time presence made that spring break nothing short of holy as we had all four of our little family together for days - away from the 'regular'. This year was fun as well - our time was amplified by visits from family and friends, but it was diminished as Philip has been swamped at work and he had to toggle in the tension of being needed at the office and us needing/wanting him at home. It was tougher on him than us, I'm almost certain. Suffice it to say, my extrovert is used up. She's done. She's looking for some alone time and alone time she got today! A piece of me was counting down to 9:05AM this morning with the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning...because as of that moment my children would be delighted to be in their classrooms with friends and I would be headed out of the school for a long, solitary walk around the city. There's a choir of angels at the ready, I'm confident...if you heard them singing, you know why.
These solo walks have become integral to my mental health and I've been without them for almost 17 days - it's time - especially in these days of limbo. It's occurred to me that, in theory, we're more than halfway through our time here - that's weird. Weirder still, we know little about what's next. Most days that's OK, but in these days of extreme extroversion coupled with rain and small living space it's increasingly not OK. I have anxiety about multiple potential outcomes: 1- staying here would be fantastic but would also have implications in terms moving to get another bedroom and the whole very far from family piece would be amplified; 2 - moving back 'home' would be great but I have a hard time wrapping my head around transplanting my new self into my old world - I worry about how I will translate; 3 - going someplace entirely new is exciting but exhausting - provided the new place is someplace we want to go. Any way you slice it, there will be a season of packing and moving for the Marcums in the next 18 or so months. And I hate packing and boxes and moving. But I love adventure. Somehow I've got to re-frame my perspective toward adventure and away from moving.
In considering this limbo-ness, it occurred to me that we've been living in limbo for over 2 years now. Limbo is taxing. Limbo is flimsy. Limbo doesn't do much for your sense of place. It does, however, work wonders on your sense of self. Our identity as a family is better defined than it has ever been - sometimes to a fault because we've gotten comfortable in our self-centered reality. In terms of blood relatives, we're it for each other in this place. That's been enormously powerful in fostering our sense of belonging to one another and looking out for each other. It's allowed us to define family in new ways - and has broadened our understanding of what family means. Conversely, it's also meant our flexibility has decreased a bit - when you aren't juggling extended family personalities and are far removed, you lose a bit of your ability to adapt to people different from you. It's a funny dichotomy - this whole notion that you know no one in a place that's very different and have an emotional outlay in meeting new folks all the while surrounding yourselves with those whom you resonate easily so you become more yourself yet less able to flow among varying personalities. That may make absolutely no sense except in my head, but it's part of the limbo we're in and part of living in the tension created by a big move. I value connection to other people on a deeper level now and simultaneously value independence in a new way. It's flat out weird.
So, what's next? God only knows - literally. Somehow, some way, and hopefully soon, I've got to find a sense of peace with it all because I'm getting tired. And when I'm tired I get grumpy. Grumpy plays out poorly and I don't like myself so much when I'm in these ruts - my kids probably feel likewise. My goal is that by Easter and all of it's celebration of new life, rebirth and hope that my mental mood will embrace the pastel colors popping up and find the sunny side again. All will be well - in my head I know this, but my brain is having a hard time convincing my heart. This life thing is tricky. It's not all Warner Brothers and tidy literary denouements - it's gritty, emotional and sometimes full of orange cream filled chocolates. Here's hoping for a little caramel sparkle one day really soon.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Friday, March 20, 2015
Cousins and Breaks
Two weeks of Spring Break seems long to some, but we extended ours by an extra two days because the Bartels came to Vancouver! We made welcome signs, we baked breakfast casserole, we made lists of what to see/do and we had fun! Here are the photos to prove it...
Silly faces - the true nature of our family...putting on the real smiles to share with others.
Arrival Night - wings night at earl's :)
Visiting with the Laughing Statues after a visit to the cupcake store
Sleepyheads snuggling before bedtime
Southerners hit the ice - outside at Grouse Mountain Resort
Silly faces - the true nature of our family...putting on the real smiles to share with others.
Family Tradition - Tigers from birth - thanks Mimi & Papa for the matching shirts!
Great public art+industry collaboration on Granville Island!
See Saw time at Granville Island
Uncle Philip snuggles
Wolverine & Warrior Princess
Some things never change - welcome to Chez Marcum
Good for me, not so good for the blog, I spent the week with Emily and her boys drinking up family time and not taking photos. There are but a mere sampling of what we did together and don't come anywhere near capturing the living and memories we packed into our seven days that seemed to fly. We tubed at Whistler Mountain and saw skiers and snowboarders jump and flip through a ring of fire. We tunneled through a mountain at the one-time largest copper mine in British Columbia. We ate unidentifiable pork at a restaurant and survived. We rushed to find bathrooms in emergency situations and explored through ancient Chinese relics. We looked for stars of favorite television shows and spotted filming locations we'd seen only on screen. We ate gelato, shopped down Robson Street and took the seabus and the skytrain and a city bus and a gondola within an hour of each other. We bumbled through open air markets and enjoyed street performers. All in all, we were family - it felt normal and we picked up where we had left off. And we celebrate that we will see each other in person again sooner than later and that we will forever be connected by blood, commitment, love and life. It's a humbling thing for family to choose to spend their time and money to come and be with us. For this independent woman I find it very humbling - almost overwhelming. May this post serve as public thanks for people everywhere who show up, who love tangibly and in person; life is better with you in it! May you have people like this in your life - all life through and may we all seek to be the people who show up and love in person.
Lunar New Year - Year of the Sheep!
I'm playing catch up as we end our second week of spring break on this very rainy first day of spring. I've learned that new years begin all throughout the year around here and it's kind of nice to think that despite what the annual calendar says there's a beginning to celebrate on an almost monthly basis. Today, in fact, is the observance of the Persian New Year - based on the solar calendar. I learned of this celebration for the first time this year as Lydia's playdate is leaving early to celebrate with her mom. I'll have to look into more festivities around this date next year as we missed the fire celebrations at Ambleside Park this past week. Alas - we made it out to the Lunar New Year festivities in February - commonly known as Chinese New Year - and they were a sight to behold. We walked down the weekend prior to the parade and took in the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Gardens - the gardens are a lovely little oasis in the city and you feel transported to a different time and place when you enter. The kids were given a scavenger hunt of pictures/displays to find as we meandered through the space and we all got into it. We sipped green tea and practiced creating Chinese characters on Buddha boards in the Hall of One Hundred Rivers. We spotted huge koi fish in the pond and found a little sheep in there as well denoting the year into which we would soon be entering. Just outside the paid gardens is a public Chinese garden space with a lovely little gazebo, bamboo garden and a super fun gift shop - to which we've returned no less that 3 times in as many weeks because the kids are enamored with the Chinese zodiac, beautiful textiles, Tibetan jewelry and Chinese paintings on rice paper and silk.
February 22nd marked the culmination of celebrations with the Lunar New Year parade - we walked back down to Chinatown and we were given countless traditional red envelopes filled with gold chocolate coins. We marveled at the red lanterns decorating businesses and streets and the dragons that seemed to serve as watchdogs for all who came to celebrate. The parade was a sensory experience with new sights, smells, sounds. Our constitutions were tested while walking through open-aired markets selling dried shrimp, fish, mushrooms, etc. The smells were earthy and overwhelming but were somehow an integral part of the whole experience. The firecrackers popping repeatedly off the back of pickup trucks ushered in dancers, cymbals, dragons and, believe it or not, bagpipes. The crowds were dense and sightlines tricky. We watched the Mandarin newscasters narrate the parade as groups walked past their set, we received more red envelopes, we lost count of the various depictions of sheep we saw and the numbers of dancing dragons in their shiny costumes and vast amounts of red dappling the streets. It was a party for the senses! And a beautiful, albeit cold, day for it. Had we stood for the entire parade, we think it would have lasted about 2.5 - 3 hours. We saw the whole parade, but did so while walking the parade route as tummies were getting rumbly and there's a history in our house of hunger producing bears that have striking resemblances to our children.
We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed for the lawn of the art gallery where Lydia made a mobile celebrating the Year of the Sheep's arrival and we marveled at the numbers of miniature sheep dotting the lawn. They were even available for purchase. The kids got to make their own dumplings - practicing rolling out the dough and sealing them properly. We made tissue paper snowflakes and Lydia practiced origami. It was a lovely day - we learned together, played together and laughed together. And as the pig, rooster, rat and dragon in this family we wish everyone a Happy Year of the Sheep! Gung Hay Fat Choy! [Best wishes and Congratulations. Have a prosperous and good year.]
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| Millennium Gate Entering Chinatown |
Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Gardens - http://vancouverchinesegarden.com/
Practicing writing Chinese characters on Buddha Boards
Bamboo Forest Adventures
February 22nd marked the culmination of celebrations with the Lunar New Year parade - we walked back down to Chinatown and we were given countless traditional red envelopes filled with gold chocolate coins. We marveled at the red lanterns decorating businesses and streets and the dragons that seemed to serve as watchdogs for all who came to celebrate. The parade was a sensory experience with new sights, smells, sounds. Our constitutions were tested while walking through open-aired markets selling dried shrimp, fish, mushrooms, etc. The smells were earthy and overwhelming but were somehow an integral part of the whole experience. The firecrackers popping repeatedly off the back of pickup trucks ushered in dancers, cymbals, dragons and, believe it or not, bagpipes. The crowds were dense and sightlines tricky. We watched the Mandarin newscasters narrate the parade as groups walked past their set, we received more red envelopes, we lost count of the various depictions of sheep we saw and the numbers of dancing dragons in their shiny costumes and vast amounts of red dappling the streets. It was a party for the senses! And a beautiful, albeit cold, day for it. Had we stood for the entire parade, we think it would have lasted about 2.5 - 3 hours. We saw the whole parade, but did so while walking the parade route as tummies were getting rumbly and there's a history in our house of hunger producing bears that have striking resemblances to our children.
Year of the Sheep! Parade time...
There were literally hundreds of dragons - all unique and beautiful and ornate.
We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed for the lawn of the art gallery where Lydia made a mobile celebrating the Year of the Sheep's arrival and we marveled at the numbers of miniature sheep dotting the lawn. They were even available for purchase. The kids got to make their own dumplings - practicing rolling out the dough and sealing them properly. We made tissue paper snowflakes and Lydia practiced origami. It was a lovely day - we learned together, played together and laughed together. And as the pig, rooster, rat and dragon in this family we wish everyone a Happy Year of the Sheep! Gung Hay Fat Choy! [Best wishes and Congratulations. Have a prosperous and good year.]
These decorated sheep were part of a competition - there were about 30+ that all had different themes. These two were Lydia's favorites.
Making dumplings
Sheep on the gallery lawn
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Family Day 2015 - what a difference a year makes...
Having just re-read my Family Day post from last year I must admit that I sure am glad I'm writing this stuff down. It's amazing how much my mind deletes in a mere 365 days and it's amazing how much living gets packed into those very same days. Alas - we're here again - yesterday was BC's Family Day and we had a great, albeit very different, day together. It started slowly with breakfast and then we went down to our new fitness room to put the new equipment to use! Let it be known that I felt pretty proud of this little chunk of our day - both kids are now old enough to enjoy the spin bike, rowing machine and treadmill and we can do this together! It's out of the ordinary for us to do 'family workouts' other than walking the city but in keeping with the family theme of the day we pulled it off. We came back up to the suite and ushered Philip off to work despite it being a holiday - duty called - and we looked up instructions for making a t-shirt quilt. This was intended to be a fun bonding family experience and an exciting follow up to the massive purge of clothes and toys we had done on Saturday. Lydia is a budding seamstress and was excited about the opportunity to use our new sewing machine and each of the kids had sorted through t-shirts and chosen a stash for their quilts. Once we'd wrapped our heads around the project and made a supply list, we were off for lunch with Philip at Subway (a kid favorite in keeping with our earlier fitness focus at our family workout). It was raining, naturally, but that didn't stop us. We enjoyed lunch and went to the Adidas store and the American Girl store while Philip headed back to the office.
It was a good walk - and the rain wasn't too hard - we even put away our umbrellas for a bit and just endured the mist [except for Henry...I left his umbrella in a restaurant last week when, after paying our bill, the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate...but that's another story]. Henry found a pair of socks he'd been dreaming of and bought them with birthday money and I surprised him by buying a second pair for him. We were happy and our version of Beaver Cleaver life was playing out nicely. On the way home we stopped at the American Girl store and I got to surprise Lydia by offering her the same budget as I'd allowed for Henry so she could pick out a treasure. And, as it doesn't often happen, she found something within her budget that required no begging, crying or gnashing of teeth. It was a great day! The rain started falling more steadily and we headed home where the kids played Legos and work on the quilts began.
Detour: I began cutting Lydia's t-shirts for the quilt and was making the final snip on the second shirt only to look up at her big blue eyes in time to see them flood with tears and sobbing ensue. Apparently, he tshirts have far too memories in them to be diced into square under which you can keep cozy. And they went back into a bag with the promise of waiting to cut anymore until she could see how her brother's quilt turned out first. It was a full-on meltdown. About tshirts. And if I hadn't felt so badly that she was so upset it would have been hard to suppress my laughter about it. Not to worry, I moved on to cutting out Henry's shirts and then pulled out my secret weapon to salvage the day: I turned on Different Strokes while I began our luxurious, Family Day Dinner.
As a Southerner, it's inborn for me to put love into the food I prepare. This, coupled with the fact that I enjoy trying different foods and enjoy cooking and think I'm pretty OK about it makes creating special meals fun and expressive for me. I was excited about being home to cook and earlier in the day the kids were keen on helping...reruns of Arnold and Willis diminished their eagerness to help but I was unscathed. I got to work - first on the eggless 'Wacky Cake' cupcakes - that were meant to be shared with our kind neighbors who alerted us to a dying car battery last weekend. They've come to function as family despite no blood relation and we owe them thanks for that - Family Day seemed an appropriate time to do so. While those baked, I got to work on homemade Naan. We love Naan and I was going to carry on our family day of fitness with a sumptuous, healthy dinner. The plan was to top the Naan with spinach, tomatoes and olives tossed in a light olive oil and lemon juice dressing as our entrée. However, it was 4:45PM and while I knew the Naan dough had to rest for a bit, I had not read the part in the recipe that said it needed to rest for TWO HOURS - 6:45 is well past our dinner time. This was the first indication my sumptuous dinner was not going to plan. Onward I forged, however. Wacky Cakes came out of the oven, the dough was covered in a damp cloth and put in a warm place to hang out for a bit and while I pondered how to rescue this rapidly sinking ship, I got to work on our homemade Kale Chips - which turned out to be yummy. The initial intent was that these would be snacks for lunchboxes this week but as my dough rested I switched gears and dubbed the Kale Chips appetizers and got some orzo on to boil. The side intended for our leafy green entrée was an orzo, pesto, olive, sundried tomato salad. It's a lovely dish and the kids like to gobble it up - I learned the last time I made it that the recipe calls for far too much pesto (based on the level of salinity in the dish that had us mainlining water for hours after eating it). I altered the recipe so it would be 'just so' and had it put together in no time.
Things were literally cooking in my kitchen but I had no entrée for my yummy celebration dinner - and I knew that my hungry brood would not be satisfied with roasted kale and pasta salad for dinner. And then it occurred to me with a sinking feeling - nothing would make them happier than to eat the frozen pizza in our freezer. Foodie fail. To make myself feel better, I did doctor up that four cheese square of frozen preservatives with some Italian seasoning and garlic powder and while my intent of a healthy, homemade Family Day Dinner went completely off the rails and only one kid gave a hoot about my Kale Chips, they sat down to dinner and each kid excitedly said, "Yuuummm - frozen pizza!" And we ate, and we laughed, and I had a side of humble pie followed by a rousing game of Monopoly around our little coffee table. Family Day had been just that - and my foodie fail got chalked up as a mama win. As for the Naan - it's probably best that it had to rest for those two hours. It came out of the oven around 7:30PM - a cross between a biscuit and a pancake without the texture of regular Naan at all. Nonetheless, the kids asked for it with breakfast this morning and I learned it's better just to buy it from the Indian restaurant across the street than to try to pull it off homemade. Turns out, it's cheaper and takes a lot less time. Happy Family Day.
It was a good walk - and the rain wasn't too hard - we even put away our umbrellas for a bit and just endured the mist [except for Henry...I left his umbrella in a restaurant last week when, after paying our bill, the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate...but that's another story]. Henry found a pair of socks he'd been dreaming of and bought them with birthday money and I surprised him by buying a second pair for him. We were happy and our version of Beaver Cleaver life was playing out nicely. On the way home we stopped at the American Girl store and I got to surprise Lydia by offering her the same budget as I'd allowed for Henry so she could pick out a treasure. And, as it doesn't often happen, she found something within her budget that required no begging, crying or gnashing of teeth. It was a great day! The rain started falling more steadily and we headed home where the kids played Legos and work on the quilts began.
Detour: I began cutting Lydia's t-shirts for the quilt and was making the final snip on the second shirt only to look up at her big blue eyes in time to see them flood with tears and sobbing ensue. Apparently, he tshirts have far too memories in them to be diced into square under which you can keep cozy. And they went back into a bag with the promise of waiting to cut anymore until she could see how her brother's quilt turned out first. It was a full-on meltdown. About tshirts. And if I hadn't felt so badly that she was so upset it would have been hard to suppress my laughter about it. Not to worry, I moved on to cutting out Henry's shirts and then pulled out my secret weapon to salvage the day: I turned on Different Strokes while I began our luxurious, Family Day Dinner.
As a Southerner, it's inborn for me to put love into the food I prepare. This, coupled with the fact that I enjoy trying different foods and enjoy cooking and think I'm pretty OK about it makes creating special meals fun and expressive for me. I was excited about being home to cook and earlier in the day the kids were keen on helping...reruns of Arnold and Willis diminished their eagerness to help but I was unscathed. I got to work - first on the eggless 'Wacky Cake' cupcakes - that were meant to be shared with our kind neighbors who alerted us to a dying car battery last weekend. They've come to function as family despite no blood relation and we owe them thanks for that - Family Day seemed an appropriate time to do so. While those baked, I got to work on homemade Naan. We love Naan and I was going to carry on our family day of fitness with a sumptuous, healthy dinner. The plan was to top the Naan with spinach, tomatoes and olives tossed in a light olive oil and lemon juice dressing as our entrée. However, it was 4:45PM and while I knew the Naan dough had to rest for a bit, I had not read the part in the recipe that said it needed to rest for TWO HOURS - 6:45 is well past our dinner time. This was the first indication my sumptuous dinner was not going to plan. Onward I forged, however. Wacky Cakes came out of the oven, the dough was covered in a damp cloth and put in a warm place to hang out for a bit and while I pondered how to rescue this rapidly sinking ship, I got to work on our homemade Kale Chips - which turned out to be yummy. The initial intent was that these would be snacks for lunchboxes this week but as my dough rested I switched gears and dubbed the Kale Chips appetizers and got some orzo on to boil. The side intended for our leafy green entrée was an orzo, pesto, olive, sundried tomato salad. It's a lovely dish and the kids like to gobble it up - I learned the last time I made it that the recipe calls for far too much pesto (based on the level of salinity in the dish that had us mainlining water for hours after eating it). I altered the recipe so it would be 'just so' and had it put together in no time.
What I was going for was traditional Naan - here's the recipe to prove it.
The yummy 'all dressed' Kale Chips
The lovely orzo salad
Things were literally cooking in my kitchen but I had no entrée for my yummy celebration dinner - and I knew that my hungry brood would not be satisfied with roasted kale and pasta salad for dinner. And then it occurred to me with a sinking feeling - nothing would make them happier than to eat the frozen pizza in our freezer. Foodie fail. To make myself feel better, I did doctor up that four cheese square of frozen preservatives with some Italian seasoning and garlic powder and while my intent of a healthy, homemade Family Day Dinner went completely off the rails and only one kid gave a hoot about my Kale Chips, they sat down to dinner and each kid excitedly said, "Yuuummm - frozen pizza!" And we ate, and we laughed, and I had a side of humble pie followed by a rousing game of Monopoly around our little coffee table. Family Day had been just that - and my foodie fail got chalked up as a mama win. As for the Naan - it's probably best that it had to rest for those two hours. It came out of the oven around 7:30PM - a cross between a biscuit and a pancake without the texture of regular Naan at all. Nonetheless, the kids asked for it with breakfast this morning and I learned it's better just to buy it from the Indian restaurant across the street than to try to pull it off homemade. Turns out, it's cheaper and takes a lot less time. Happy Family Day.
And the hit of the night - our SQUARE frozen pizza...
Friday, February 6, 2015
Bring on the Thunder!
Lots of folks think we spend the year bundled up in scarves and mittens living here, but the truth is, it's pretty temperate - we haven't even gotten snow this winter. Sadly, neither has the place that's our default ski hill so we've braved the grey, wet days rarely needing a heavy coat for any purpose other than to stay dry. South Carolina has been colder [albeit about as wet, from what I understand] than our little corner of the world.
As a child, thunder was intimidating - especially in South Carolina. In the South we get thunderstorms that bring with them bone rattling, earth shaking thunder complete with jagged lightening strikes and an occasional tornado warning. There have been times we've crammed into interior bathrooms or closets because of harsh weather and one of my college apartment complexes got hit by a tornado that was ushered in with thunder, lightening and hail. [Side note: I wasn't home when that happened...I was at a mall buying shoes riding out the tornado warning...it was eerie to return to complete darkness only lit by fire trucks and ambulances.] Thunder was scary sometimes and there were times I dreaded forecasts that included storms.
Here I sit, though, in Vancouver, British Columbia - no stranger to rain - not at all. We get lots of rain here - just rain. And it's a misty rain typically, just enough to warrant an umbrella and make the day seem to move slower - not the blinding gully washers of SC. But today - ah today - there are THUNDERSTORMS in the forecast and I'm excited! I haven't heard thunder in 18 months! I didn't even know I missed thunder until I saw the forecast and my heart jumped a little in anticipation. So here's to you, thunder! I hope you stop to say 'hi' for a bit and conjure a little piece of our southern experience on this opposite side of the country.
As a child, thunder was intimidating - especially in South Carolina. In the South we get thunderstorms that bring with them bone rattling, earth shaking thunder complete with jagged lightening strikes and an occasional tornado warning. There have been times we've crammed into interior bathrooms or closets because of harsh weather and one of my college apartment complexes got hit by a tornado that was ushered in with thunder, lightening and hail. [Side note: I wasn't home when that happened...I was at a mall buying shoes riding out the tornado warning...it was eerie to return to complete darkness only lit by fire trucks and ambulances.] Thunder was scary sometimes and there were times I dreaded forecasts that included storms.
Here I sit, though, in Vancouver, British Columbia - no stranger to rain - not at all. We get lots of rain here - just rain. And it's a misty rain typically, just enough to warrant an umbrella and make the day seem to move slower - not the blinding gully washers of SC. But today - ah today - there are THUNDERSTORMS in the forecast and I'm excited! I haven't heard thunder in 18 months! I didn't even know I missed thunder until I saw the forecast and my heart jumped a little in anticipation. So here's to you, thunder! I hope you stop to say 'hi' for a bit and conjure a little piece of our southern experience on this opposite side of the country.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Toggling Between Homes
Note: This post was composed while travelling from SC to Vancouver - however, I wrote it longhand since I hadn't taken a computer with me and am just now getting around to posting.
This week while in SC & NC alone (the kids and Philip stayed in Vancouver), I uttered aloud for the first time the phrase, "I'm almost 40." I certainly have thought it before but this was the first time I'd heard the words and internalized their meaning. It was also the beginning of several realizations that goaded me to pause and ponder in a new way. I'm OK with turning 40 - there's no dread, no feeling of surpassing my peak or heading for decline. However, coupled with Philip's question of what I dream for 2015 and the fact that we're quickly approaching the celebration of our son's first decade, the words fascinated me. That 40 milestone that seemed a vague future possibility is upon me and it feels far less dramatic an achievement than it did in my 20s. Instead, I think it will be much more of an evolutionary celebration - celebration of giving and receiving love for many a year; of seeing our children slowly (but somehow lightening fast) morph into lovely young people; celebration of memories that the more permanent lines on my face represent. It's a kind of awakening.
I don't know at all know what this means at the moment, I'm choosing to trust the path will make itself clear somewhere along the process. I've been away from my husband and children for 8 days and currently find myself on a very noisy turbo-prop plane journeying toward them. It's a contemplative time for me - uninterrupted by the vibratory sounds of the propellers. I'm headed home and simultaneously feel pangs of sadness because I'm leaving home. I hugged my sister and parents goodbye before boarding and that was sad - but for the first time included only a lump in my throat and no tears as the sting of goodbye was tempered by anticipation of getting my arms around my husband and children. I laughed when I used the plane's washroom as it seemed to echo my sentiment - it too toggling between past and present with its ashtray on a non-smoking flight.
I've been in my "growing up homes" these eight days - places I go for rest, challenge and permission to ponder outside of myself and it's been restorative in spite of sleep deprivation. I've remembered how many people and relationships are home to me and its this new home I'm journeying toward despite the fact that Vancouver knows little of my back story. The beauty is that it's being woven into my almost forty story.
The day will come, likely before I'm fully ready, when we will leave our Vancouver home and reconnect with our SC home. It would be dishonest for me to claim there are not mixed emotions and anxiety about that. We've all heard that 'you can't go home again' and I understand that phrase in a new way now. But I'm hopeful that we'll create a new home in a familiar place while grieving and treasuring the Vancouver home we'll leave behind.
It seems our lives have been full of coming and going - with all the expected feelings associated with each. Turns out - we've survived it all. One particular going included the gift of a children's book (a prophetic media form, I'd contend) titled The Invisible String from a dear friend. It's in storage right now (along with most all of our books and belongings) but its message rings in my ears - a message of connectivity among dear ones - via invisible strings. When I consider the invisible strings I share with people whom I hold dear, I visualize a web that blankets states, countries and continents. It's comforting to imagine this supportive web that we've bounced across and reminds me of the human connections that undergird and help preserve my sanity during the journeys.
So today as I ponder the anxiety that comes with returning to a place from whence I've come - different than when I've left - and the eventual farewell we'll bit to people I love in a place I love, I'm reminded of the words I heard this week in my Montreat home. One of our speakers spoke words of challenge and comfort as she recounted her story of being called away from a life she'd spent years building - back to a life she'd left. She was called to be an agent of change and grace and hope. Our prayer is that we can plug in in a way that will leave a mark and that our family will look for ways to matter in a new context.
I'm two planes away from my husband and children at this moment and with each minute closer to them I find myself a minute further from my parents and sister. It's a mixed bag - but it's sure lovely to be moving toward a reunion and not just dwelling on a departure.
This week while in SC & NC alone (the kids and Philip stayed in Vancouver), I uttered aloud for the first time the phrase, "I'm almost 40." I certainly have thought it before but this was the first time I'd heard the words and internalized their meaning. It was also the beginning of several realizations that goaded me to pause and ponder in a new way. I'm OK with turning 40 - there's no dread, no feeling of surpassing my peak or heading for decline. However, coupled with Philip's question of what I dream for 2015 and the fact that we're quickly approaching the celebration of our son's first decade, the words fascinated me. That 40 milestone that seemed a vague future possibility is upon me and it feels far less dramatic an achievement than it did in my 20s. Instead, I think it will be much more of an evolutionary celebration - celebration of giving and receiving love for many a year; of seeing our children slowly (but somehow lightening fast) morph into lovely young people; celebration of memories that the more permanent lines on my face represent. It's a kind of awakening.
Ringing in 2015 with Montreat's College Conference Planning Team
I don't know at all know what this means at the moment, I'm choosing to trust the path will make itself clear somewhere along the process. I've been away from my husband and children for 8 days and currently find myself on a very noisy turbo-prop plane journeying toward them. It's a contemplative time for me - uninterrupted by the vibratory sounds of the propellers. I'm headed home and simultaneously feel pangs of sadness because I'm leaving home. I hugged my sister and parents goodbye before boarding and that was sad - but for the first time included only a lump in my throat and no tears as the sting of goodbye was tempered by anticipation of getting my arms around my husband and children. I laughed when I used the plane's washroom as it seemed to echo my sentiment - it too toggling between past and present with its ashtray on a non-smoking flight.
I've been in my "growing up homes" these eight days - places I go for rest, challenge and permission to ponder outside of myself and it's been restorative in spite of sleep deprivation. I've remembered how many people and relationships are home to me and its this new home I'm journeying toward despite the fact that Vancouver knows little of my back story. The beauty is that it's being woven into my almost forty story.
My sweet nephews visited me in Montreat - love them!
The day will come, likely before I'm fully ready, when we will leave our Vancouver home and reconnect with our SC home. It would be dishonest for me to claim there are not mixed emotions and anxiety about that. We've all heard that 'you can't go home again' and I understand that phrase in a new way now. But I'm hopeful that we'll create a new home in a familiar place while grieving and treasuring the Vancouver home we'll leave behind.
It seems our lives have been full of coming and going - with all the expected feelings associated with each. Turns out - we've survived it all. One particular going included the gift of a children's book (a prophetic media form, I'd contend) titled The Invisible String from a dear friend. It's in storage right now (along with most all of our books and belongings) but its message rings in my ears - a message of connectivity among dear ones - via invisible strings. When I consider the invisible strings I share with people whom I hold dear, I visualize a web that blankets states, countries and continents. It's comforting to imagine this supportive web that we've bounced across and reminds me of the human connections that undergird and help preserve my sanity during the journeys.
So today as I ponder the anxiety that comes with returning to a place from whence I've come - different than when I've left - and the eventual farewell we'll bit to people I love in a place I love, I'm reminded of the words I heard this week in my Montreat home. One of our speakers spoke words of challenge and comfort as she recounted her story of being called away from a life she'd spent years building - back to a life she'd left. She was called to be an agent of change and grace and hope. Our prayer is that we can plug in in a way that will leave a mark and that our family will look for ways to matter in a new context.
I'm two planes away from my husband and children at this moment and with each minute closer to them I find myself a minute further from my parents and sister. It's a mixed bag - but it's sure lovely to be moving toward a reunion and not just dwelling on a departure.
Best. Welcome. Ever.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Christmas "Magic"
Our household is officially in week 2 of the battle against cold/fever/sinus hell and I'm getting grumpy about it. I'm the only one who ended up on antibiotics but those haven't prevented the hellish march of this virus/bacteria through our tiny apartment. Sleep has been disrupted, ribs are sore from coughing and I'm not OK with it. I mean, it's Christmastime - why is this time of year is ripe with sickness? So today, I've given myself permission to wallow for a brief time and then get over it. And I have to give my daughter huge props as she seems to be standing firm in her resistance to said bug. Lord I hope she knocks all its teeth out and avoids it altogether - I'll buy her a cupcake (or two). Perhaps the upside of this situation is that school's not out yet so maybe, just maybe, we'll all be restored to semi-good health by the time we're on break and can enjoy all this city has to offer in the way of nostalgic traditions. Dear God, hear my prayer.
In an effort to get over my wallowing in self-pity, which admittedly is as unattractive as the cold sore developing on the tip of my nose, I'm choosing to reflect on the days leading up to the crash into feverish oblivion for a pick me up. If you've not ever been to the west coast of Canada, you're missing out. We live at the beach here in Vancouver - not SC beaches, but beaches nonetheless. And in a 10 minute car ride + 8 minute gondola ride we find ourselves atop Grouse Mountain. It's pretty amazing. A couple of weekends ago, we decided to head up to Grouse to see how much snow had accumulated and we were in for a treat! Grouse is our default weekend runaway in the summer and winter - skiing all winter and hiking all summer. Add that to the movie theatre there and the Christmas experience they create each year and it's obvious that boredom isn't an option. This was our first year heading up for the Christmas experience and we weren't sure what to expect. As we offloaded the gondola it was clear we were in for a treat!
We walked into the chalet and were greeted by a gospel choir lining the staircase singing Christmas carols. We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed outside to the outdoor ice skating rink. As if an outdoor ice skating rink isn't cool enough, located on its side was a huge sign marking the North Pole and Santa's Workshop. As this is the first year that only half of the children in our house really gets into Santa, it was a *joy* to see them both peering in the workshop's window to catch a glimpse of the jolly old elf himself. The kids enjoyed skating while Philip and I huddled by the fire pit. Once their ankles had had their workout, we headed to see the two reindeer Santa had brought for the day to Grouse. Vixen and Dancer were making our mountain their home for the season and it was pretty amazing to see live reindeer gnawing on hay. We visited with them a bit and then joined the queue for our turn to see Santa. Lydia was chomping at the bit.
The choir singing Christmas carols
Our turn came, an elf opened the workshop door and we were ushered into the warmth inside. The kids dutifully took their spot on Santa's lap and introduced themselves. Lydia went into explicit detail as to her Christmas list and Henry went through his - making clear it was for his sister's benefit. Then, the hilarious happened - suddenly, without explanation, Santa began engaging the kids in conversation and decided that our son's name was actually Paul. We like the name Paul. We really do. But our son's name is Henry and our Henry shot me a look that, if it had included words, would have sounded something like, "Are you kidding me? How did he get to PAUL from HENRY?" It took every ounce of self control I had not to lose it. The funnier part was that Santa was making an obvious effort to use their names repeatedly in conversation so they knew he knew their names - some sort of nice-list-confirmation-tactic. When we exited the workshop, Henry turned to me and asked [dripping with incredulous sarcasm], "WHY did he keep calling me PAUL?" And then I lost it - that kind of laughter that makes you snort - lost it.
It was a great day - and I'm grateful we had an early experience of Christmas spirit to carry us through this latest battle of the germs. We made our way back to the chalet and visited the gingerbread village and listened to a few more carols before making our way back down in the gondola. It was near-perfect - aside from the name snafu. Alas - I wouldn't be surprised if a few gifts for Paul found their way into our apartment in a few days...we shall see. Onward and upward we climb dear friends - past the clogged noses and chest rattling coughs - and hope to find that Christmas sparkle again. Wallowing is now over - getting over it commenced - watching for magic the new focus. Merry Christmas - bumps and all...
In an effort to get over my wallowing in self-pity, which admittedly is as unattractive as the cold sore developing on the tip of my nose, I'm choosing to reflect on the days leading up to the crash into feverish oblivion for a pick me up. If you've not ever been to the west coast of Canada, you're missing out. We live at the beach here in Vancouver - not SC beaches, but beaches nonetheless. And in a 10 minute car ride + 8 minute gondola ride we find ourselves atop Grouse Mountain. It's pretty amazing. A couple of weekends ago, we decided to head up to Grouse to see how much snow had accumulated and we were in for a treat! Grouse is our default weekend runaway in the summer and winter - skiing all winter and hiking all summer. Add that to the movie theatre there and the Christmas experience they create each year and it's obvious that boredom isn't an option. This was our first year heading up for the Christmas experience and we weren't sure what to expect. As we offloaded the gondola it was clear we were in for a treat!
Welcome to Santa's Workshop and the North Pole!
Just your regular day igloo building
Grouse mascot :)
Snow angels!
We walked into the chalet and were greeted by a gospel choir lining the staircase singing Christmas carols. We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed outside to the outdoor ice skating rink. As if an outdoor ice skating rink isn't cool enough, located on its side was a huge sign marking the North Pole and Santa's Workshop. As this is the first year that only half of the children in our house really gets into Santa, it was a *joy* to see them both peering in the workshop's window to catch a glimpse of the jolly old elf himself. The kids enjoyed skating while Philip and I huddled by the fire pit. Once their ankles had had their workout, we headed to see the two reindeer Santa had brought for the day to Grouse. Vixen and Dancer were making our mountain their home for the season and it was pretty amazing to see live reindeer gnawing on hay. We visited with them a bit and then joined the queue for our turn to see Santa. Lydia was chomping at the bit.
The choir singing Christmas carols
Vixen & Dancer
Our turn came, an elf opened the workshop door and we were ushered into the warmth inside. The kids dutifully took their spot on Santa's lap and introduced themselves. Lydia went into explicit detail as to her Christmas list and Henry went through his - making clear it was for his sister's benefit. Then, the hilarious happened - suddenly, without explanation, Santa began engaging the kids in conversation and decided that our son's name was actually Paul. We like the name Paul. We really do. But our son's name is Henry and our Henry shot me a look that, if it had included words, would have sounded something like, "Are you kidding me? How did he get to PAUL from HENRY?" It took every ounce of self control I had not to lose it. The funnier part was that Santa was making an obvious effort to use their names repeatedly in conversation so they knew he knew their names - some sort of nice-list-confirmation-tactic. When we exited the workshop, Henry turned to me and asked [dripping with incredulous sarcasm], "WHY did he keep calling me PAUL?" And then I lost it - that kind of laughter that makes you snort - lost it.
Santa, Lydia & Henry/Paul
It was a great day - and I'm grateful we had an early experience of Christmas spirit to carry us through this latest battle of the germs. We made our way back to the chalet and visited the gingerbread village and listened to a few more carols before making our way back down in the gondola. It was near-perfect - aside from the name snafu. Alas - I wouldn't be surprised if a few gifts for Paul found their way into our apartment in a few days...we shall see. Onward and upward we climb dear friends - past the clogged noses and chest rattling coughs - and hope to find that Christmas sparkle again. Wallowing is now over - getting over it commenced - watching for magic the new focus. Merry Christmas - bumps and all...
Gingerbread village
Snow Henry
Lydia and her elf hat
The Marcum penguins - we'll be skiing here after Christmas!
Philip giving Lydia a fast start down the hill
Mt. Baker, WA in the distance
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