Case in Point

July 1, 1995

Twenty-five years ago today, July 1, 1995, Kraig and I got married. We looked at each other this morning and said, “A quarter of a century? Really?”

When we sat down to breakfast this morning, I thought I’d get nostalgic. 

“Someday,” I said to Kraig and the kids, “we should pull out the DVD of our wedding and watch it.” 

“You have a recording?” the kids asked, jaws dropped.

“Of course!” Then I paused. “Well, yes, there’s a video recording, and I’m pretty sure we’ve got it on DVD….”

“Yep, that was before digital recording,” Kraig said. “It was analog.”

“What’s the difference between digital and analog?” Clare asked.

That was all it took to desert nostalgia. For the rest of breakfast we had an in-depth discussion and analysis of how digital recording works vs. analog. Kraig, of course, did most of the technical breakdown. I added a few examples (“This is why vinyl recordings are becoming more popular again—seamless sound.”), but for the most part I listened and mentally sat back and pondered how I could translate this breakfast discussion into a blogpost celebrating Kraig and my twenty-five years of marriage. It was a perfect example of one of the things I love about being married to Kraig, but in a way it’s a picture of our married life—lots of unexpected twists.

When Kraig and I married, we had plans—naturally! We were missionary kids who had loved that experience, and we wanted to go overseas ourselves. Kraig wanted to teach overseas and was in the process of getting his degree in civil engineering. I had a degree in secondary education and planned to get a master’s in teaching English to speakers of other languages. For the first years of our marriage we worked on those degrees, with Kraig moving into a master’s and then a doctorate. I taught secondary education for a few years, and then tutored international professionals in the Detroit area.

About five years into married life we thought it’d be great to start having kids. Despite experiencing plenty of shifts in our lives growing up, I think this was the first time we came face-to-face with the truth that life doesn’t always go the way you plan.  We had two miscarriages in 2001, and suddenly parenthood took on a greater significance. We realized we didn’t just want to have kids, we wanted to be parents and to raise kids and create a family. When we got pregnant with Keren in 2002, we were thrilled…only to have our world shaken again when we learned prenatally that she might not survive birth. But God had prepared us. Her life had significance and worth it might not have had if we hadn’t miscarried before. Keren was born with Trisomy 18, but she was ours, and God had given her to us for as long as he planned, and that was all that mattered. 

Summer 2008

With Keren in our life and all of the doctors, therapists, and special education needs her life required, our life-plan changed. We no longer planned to head overseas. My life shifted into being a mom, even more-so when Clare and Evie joined our family in the following years. Kraig completed his doctorate, and did some teaching locally, but moved into a consulting firm. He saw the need to get practical experience in his field; the health insurance package didn’t hurt, either. We grew together, learned together. We watched how our family, church, and school friends came alongside us and loved all of us. As we lived with Keren and saw her love us, we discovered new depths to what God means by unconditional love. 

And then January 28, 2009 dawned, and Keren left us, and our world shifted again. In the midst of our grief, God gave us joy. I was about thirteen weeks along with Jon when Keren died, and my doctor, looking at that early ultrasound, predicted he was a boy. It was as if God said, “I’m not replacing Keren—she will always be unique in your lives. I am giving you something new.” Again family and friends surrounded us and loved us. We moved with the shifting, grieved, and laughed, and changed.

With Keren’s death, Kraig and I were faced with another question: Did this mean we should look at the possibility of going overseas again? It was a hard question, because in some ways it was as if we were setting aside our life that we’d had with Keren. It’s extremely strange to be a parent of a special needs child for six-and-a-half years and then suddenly have a “regular” family with no outside indication that we’d ever been different. By leaving our home and roots in Michigan, we left everyone who had known Keren and us when we had her. That was a tough choice.

Yet God opened the doors, and in July of 2014 we stepped off the plane with our family in Guadalajara, Mexico, into a new life and a whole new career for Kraig. The initial one-year visiting professor contract was extended to two, with hope of more years. Our first year was difficult, to say the least. I’ve written about some of that before—Kraig was exhausted with new work, the kids struggled with culture shock and change, and I struggled with, well, wanting to love what we were experiencing, but actually hating much of it. By the second year, though, we found our stride and as friendships grew and work life and home life settled, we looked forward to a longer time…only for the university to upend its hiring plan and structure, which meant it was impossible for us to continue there….

What we knew clearly by the end of those two years was that Kraig wanted to continue teaching. What we didn’t know was where. Would we move to another country? Would we be back in the United States? It was fascinating to watch as God opened the doors for Kraig to teach at LeTourneau, and in the fall of 2016 we settled into life in Longview, Texas. 

I remember our second year here we got some estimates for new windows in our home. One of the assessors asked, “So, you’re planning on living here for a long time?” I cocked my head, puzzling how to answer. We needed new windows. How was this a decision that meant we’d be here longterm? I liked being here. All of us settled into life in East Texas extremely smoothly. I knew I didn’t want to leave. 

But in the years Kraig and I have been married, and in my life in general, being settled in one place has never been the key to our happiness and security. We haven’t even celebrated life events like anniversaries in particularly special ways—anniversaries typically fit around other momentous events. 

On our tenth anniversary we stayed close to home—we had Keren and expected Clare any day.  

On our fifteenth we chose shingles for our new roof. 

On our twentieth anniversary we left Mexico and headed to Michigan for the summer.  

This year, our 25th, we were supposed to go on a cruise to the Baltic with my parents and sisters to celebrate my parents’ 50th, and our 25th and my sister and her husband’s 20th by default. Instead, thanks to the coronavirus, we headed to a quiet family cabin in Pennsylvania to be together. 

To say the least, life hasn’t gone as planned. Everything from children, to career changes, to breakfast conversations has taken detours we haven’t expected. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ll never be fond of change or dramatic, life-changing events, yet I can look forward to the years God has in store for Kraig and me and our family. I will trust God with his plan because every time I look back I can see he has been with us and has helped us grow in him, which is what we want most. 

And I will say, as I said to the window assessor in answer to his question about our living here longterm: “As the Lord wills!”

March 2020

A lament for home and humanity

When we put our house in Michigan up for sale last week the one thing I didn't anticipate was the bitter sting of rejection. We would never say that our home was perfect, but there is no denying that it is lovely, even after three years of a rental occupancy. Apparently, though, the majority of prospective buyers have no "scope for the imagination," as Anne of Green Gables would say, and can only see what is before them. They see the scuffs and marks in paint (which may not be a color they like), the kitchen floor that needs repair because of a dishwasher leak we've just discovered, the few loose outlets and missing towel racks, the massive furniture of the tenant that dwarfs each room, the scum left in a sink that hasn't been scrubbed down, and the carpets that need to be cleaned. To the uninspired buyer, it doesn't make any difference that as soon as the tenant moves out, all of these defects will be fixed. Prospective buyers also see the cracks in the walls of our unfinished basement and unfortunately they don't have a civil engineer with them (reason #152 why I married Kraig) to let them know this is typical for Michigan basements, and that there are no structural issues, nor are there leaks or mold. Little consideration is given to the solid roof, the energy-saving windows, three-year-old sink faucet and dishwasher, or the two-year-old microwave and stove. New water heater? Who cares? The furniture takes up too much space and the tenant's packing boxes are beside the front door. This house "does not show well."

I feel like crying a bit--or fuming.

I think of the home we bought in Texas last year, and all of its idiosyncrasies. It has a lot more work that needs to be done than our Michigan home will ever need, but I love it. We are friends with the woman who grew up in that house, and I learned about her parents building it, and a little about their lives there. Neighbors speak of the previous owners with fondness, and we reap the pecans from the trees planted by them. There are so many stories we will never know, but it is a home that was consecrated by love. It is also full to the brim with potential, and in our first year there we have already stocked it with new stories. Rooms are slowly given a fresh coat of paint, windows will be replaced, kitchens and bathrooms updated. It will take time, but in the process we will live and love and work, and sometimes pull our hair out with frustration. This is life. Homes require work.

When I look at our home in Michigan, I see its lovely qualities and all of the layers of memories.

I see the way the light pours through the many windows even on gray January days.

I admire the sunset through the kitchen window, and the view of my neighbor Barb's gorgeous perennial garden through the bay window in the dining area.

I remember Keren and Ev playing on the floor in the kitchen while we worked to get the house move-in ready in the winter of 2008. The only room in the house that didn't need paint and carpet was the kitchen, so that became the safe zone while we worked. Clare, at two, helped paint...a little! I remember writing Philippians 4:6-8 on our plywood floors before the new carpet was laid and believing every word of it even in the struggles. I still hold those words close.

I remember family parties.

I remember our final Christmas there with Keren, when Jon was just beginning to be a new family dream.

I remember the cold, snowy January day when my sister Carrie watched Clare and Ev and I rushed Keren to the hospital, not knowing she would never come back to that home. I remember the house full of family and friends surrounding us with so much love in those months that followed, and the dance between pain and joy as we grieved Keren, but laughed over Clare and Ev's antics, and looked forward to Jon's arrival.

Keren's dogwood

I remember bringing Jon home and the joy of watching him grow and seeing the new shape that our family took with all of its complexity.

I remember the pleasure we had in forming our vegetable garden, and how each spring our neighbor, Barb, would hand me some perennials and say, "I'm splitting these, so feel free to plant them. They bloom at such-and-such point in the summer."

I remember the first days of school for each kid, the playdates with friends, and the neighborhood tribe of kids that played around our court and through our backyards.

I remember the slow process God took Kraig and I through toward a new life, a life that would take our family from this dear home to a sunny apartment and new friends in Guadalajara, Mexico, and then two years later, to a shady, rambling ranch house in Longview, Texas. I know now the hope and prayer that we will be in Texas for a long time.

Our new home in Texas

Life is an adventure, and our houses are a part of that. They are integral to our lives, whether we live alone or have big, crazy families that fill spaces to the limit. But houses are what we make of them; they are not simply what they appear on the surface. They are so much more than a limited first impression. They are homes.

We're praying that a family will walk into our home and realize that, not just because we want to sell the house, but because we want others to have the chance to build beauty there.

Pulling It All Together

Written Saturday, October 29, 2016

We've done certain things to make this house homey. The kitchen is in order and functioning, the dining table accessible. The family room and library are inviting. All of the books are at hand--this is extremely important.

Decorations are, on the other hand, a little random. Of course, I suppose they always have been. My mom likes to say she decorates in "Early Eclectic" and I've taken after her in that. Our couch is a hand-me-down originally from my mom's mom. The dining table was a wedding gift from my grandmother and actually new (when we got married, twenty-one years ago), but the chairs were from my dad's side and are probably going on 100 years old. We have paintings painted by Kraig's grandmother, kids' art projects, garage sale finds, and lots and lots of trinkets from around the world.

Right now the trinkets are a complete hodgepodge. They are primarily the items I came across first when unpacking and actually had a place for. Since a lot of the house isn't organized yet, and even the core isn't completely put together. Many things are still packed away. So right now our fireplace mantle has a set of shi shi dogs from China, an angel figurine which was a gift from our neighbors in Michigan, a candle holder from Guadalajara, a pot Ev made from clay at Guachimontones in Mexico, a china plate from Kraig's grandparents (I think), a mini pumpkin Clare got at a fall festival last week, and a carved turtle--probably from Kenya. Don't even get me started on what's in our China cabinet.

Sometimes I look at the hodge lodge and wonder if it will ever come together in a harmonious whole. I see those home design programs and wish I could have a room or two with that kind of unity. But then I look at the things we have and all the history, places, and memories attached to them and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

Now...if we could just get a few pictures up. There's always room for improvement.

A Taste for the Quiet Life

The problem with events that happen in the evening is that we aren't at home. And home in the evening is a haven. We had nighttime events for all of us Monday and Tuesday this week, and this evening Clare had practice for a Christmas musical. Evie came with me to drop Clare off, and then the two of us ran some errands...and then it was time to pick up Clare. And now it's past bedtime for the kids. So much for the evening. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night since we'll be home.

Perhaps it's my introvert side, and Kraig's too, that we prefer home to going out and about. The two events this week were great, but I wouldn't want to make a habit of it. hen we were house-hunting last summer we met a lively rental manager who originally hailed from Venezuela. She gave us all sorts of tips about things to do and see in and around Longview. "But," she said with a sigh, "there's not much night life here." Kraig and I gave our condolences but made sure we didn't look at each other or we'd have burst out laughing. An active night life is that last thing we've ever pined for.

We also hold dear the kids' bedtime which happens a couple hours before ours. We're hanging on to that for as long as we can. Even when we're doing nothing, or Kraig is swamped with grading and class prep so I'm left to my own devices--even then the kids are sent to bed because we want to be alone. Selfish, aren't we?

So, yeah, quiet nights are our preference. But the last few nights haven't been, and tonight has been later, too, because of Clare's event. As a result I'm writing with kids milling around getting ready for bed. Evie, who's done, is cuddled beside me and pointing out words she can't read because I'm writing too fast and messily. "What's that word?" she wants to know. And then she comments on my editing process.

But the others are done now and it's time to herd them into bed. Then, hopefully, I won't stay up too late relishing the silence.

One man's trash and all that....

Of course, moves mean one has to restock some essentials. For example, when we moved to Guadalajara Kraig and I sold our bedroom set. It made more sense than storing it, and considering that it had been a free hand-me-down we had no deep attachments to it. And then there were things that weren't worth hauling across the country because it was--presumably--cheaper to buy a new or used thing here.

But moves mean a lot of expenses, and suddenly all that extra cash we thought we had (well, not really, but the thought was nice) wasn't there. So "essentials" get prioritized and garage sales become the new pastime, and the new bedroom set is on the wait list. At least we have a bed! Last weekend an acquaintance put us on to an annual flea market that runs along miles of a highway that cuts through Longview and a few of the other towns east and west of us. Kraig headed out to see what he could see and not only found an old lawn mower, but also a hedge trimmer, air compressor, and functional bikes for the kids. I've mentioned the mattress/boxspring set we stumbled on, and yesterday we hit a sale where we found an amazing skill saw for just the price Kraig was looking for.

One of the new-to-us chairs

Today, though, I succumbed to the beauty of a table with four straight back chairs. The chairs were something I've been wanting and felt were high on the essentials list, and I figured we could make use of the table. I thought the price was great, and Kraig reluctantly agreed.... It wasn't as high on his essentials list. Unfortunately the base of the table needs some work to get shipshape, and I've felt a bit guilty as Kraig has pointed out the various and sundries he'll have to fix now (adding to the many other fix-its). But I don't feel that guilty, because now when we have more than two people over for a meal we can put them in real chairs that are similar to our beloved straight-backs, the hand-me-downs from my grandmother and great-grandmother. Real chairs rather than folding chairs. I'll take that over an air-compressor any day.



I guess treasure is all about perspective.

Our table and chairs, waiting for guests :)

All That Land

Have I mentioned that we have a big yard? It's delightful. It needs work like everything else, but it's just fine for sending the kids into for exploration and play. And, also like the house, it has plenty of potential.

Now that the heat has dropped a bit the kids have been out more. A few weeks ago Jon and Ev started an archaeological dig in the back corner and turned up quite a rock collection. Another day the threesome put their heads together and built a castle, complete with moat. We did have to advise them to put dirt back around tree roots they exposed, but points for a creative drawbridge!

In front we have a number of shade trees, including three pecan trees that are producing nicely right now. Ev and Jon are in charge of nut collection while Clare is on leaf-raking duty. The squirrels aren't too thrilled with this arrangement.

And last night we made a fire pit right off our back patio and roasted s'mores. There isn't much light pollution around us, either, so we got a pretty good look at the stars. It was like camping again, but with the handy benefit of running water a few feet away. I realized how long it's been since we enjoyed a family campfire, too. Personally, my favorite way to enjoy a fire is to roast marshmallows and contemplate the glowing embers and sing some songs. I think the last time we went camping I was able to do that. But that was about three years ago--four summers--and Jon is seven now and in full boyhood, so a campfire's purpose, apparently, is for poking and seeing what all will burn in it. Ah well. I guess I'll have to shift my definition for a few years.

Part of the yard is fenced off and we already have some alluring options for that. A dog is high on the kids' list. Kraig has been talking a lot about keeping chickens. We shall see.... Next year, depending on life and craziness, we will plant a garden. And I'm especially looking forward to spring because there are two well-grown dogwoods out back. Now there is potential.

Church Home...I think....

We've been attending one of the local churches here in Longview since our first Sunday in town. When we came we fully intended to church shop a bit. Unlike Guadalajara, which is not flush in English-speaking churches (for some reason!), Longview is part of the Bible belt, so there are churches galore. Thankfully there are a lot of solid ones, but we knew that might make finding the right one more difficult. In Guadalajara we went to the first one recommended and we were thrilled with it. It was definitely a gift from God. The teaching we received and the folks we met were incredible.

So on our first Sunday in Longview we decided to try Fellowship Bible Church per the recommendation of our friends the Huegels from Guadalajara. Joel Huegel teaches at Tec de Monterrey where Kraig taught, and our families attended the same church in Guad. Joel and Liz's kids and ours went together like salsa and chips last year, and we grown-ups thoroughly enjoyed each other, too. Joel is a LeTourneau grad and FBC is their home church when they visit Longview. Visiting "their" church that first Sunday made them seem a little closer.

The first week the church had a special event which changed up their regular schedule, so only Jon had Sunday School. The second week was Labor Day weekend; Kraig's brother and family were visiting and it made sense to go to a church with which we were somewhat familiar. Jon had liked his class a lot and the girls were begging to get a chance to try their classes.

And Kraig and I? We certainly felt at home. The church reminded us in many ways of our home church in Michigan. The teaching was solid, the people friendly. We liked what we discovered about the church's history and programs. We also found out that a number of families lived right near us, and though unfortunately they didn't have kids near our kids' ages, it was nice to know people were near. By the third Sunday Kraig said, "You know, we can just take the plunge and commit to FBC. We don't have to look around." And with a sigh of relief I agreed. Perhaps there is another church in  the area with deeper teaching or better music or...there's always a list.... But there is a lot to be said for settling in and investing our lives in a new community.

A tidbit from Kraig and my "Lifegroup" (aka grown-up Sunday School)

Rainy Day Friday

No headache today thanks to Kraig's shoulder massage and a couple ibuprofen last night. The rain that held off yesterday came steadily today, too. The rain postponed a Fall Fest morning with the homeschool community and a lunch date with new friends, but our spirits weren't dampened. It was a day for coziness.

Friday is typically a quieter day anyway and I was relaxed enough (for the most part) to make sure the kids did was needed to be done without too much pressure.

And there was plenty of time to read,

play LEGO,

and let the dolls enjoy a tea party.

We sanded some furniture we're refinishing and then ran to a couple stores. I will say taking all three kids grocery shopping is often either an exercise in futility, or a test to see if I can hold my temper. I'm not sure what or if any of us are learning something. Whatever the case, we survived and were able to pick up Kraig.

Dinner ended up a bit late, but it's Friday night which usually means a show or movie to watch. Kraig and I have had fun introducing the kids to A-Team reruns lately. After that it was a wrap up with story time and Kraig giving the kids lessons on how to speak like Donald Duck...or is it Uncle Scrooge? I couldn't understand a word of it.

Day is done--just about. Tomorrow is another project Saturday. We'll take it.

Not Much of Anything

I have little to share today. It's been a nothing-much of a day and I have a headache because my shoulders are in knots, so my thinking is muddled. I need to beg a shoulder massage off of Kriag :) .

It should have poured today. The cloud loomed and thunder rumbled, but it only rained away from us. But that did mean the kids and I could take a walk without getting soaked, so that was nice.

About mid-afternoon Ev charged in to where I was. "Mom!" she exclaimed, "there's no water!" And sure enough, all of the water faucets in the house were completely inoperable. I called our local water company and they confirmed that there was a leak in the neighborhood and the repair would "only be a couple of hours." It's amazing how slowly the hours pass without water access when you aren't prepared. The walk we took did help pass the time. Thankfully the water returned in time to make dinner, but not in time to get to some other projects that required water.

I seem to have wasted a good bit of time today. The kids got done what they needed to do, but I had the vague feeling I should challenge them more, but instead my mind was mush.

Ah well, perhaps I'll be more with it tomorrow. I'm off to get that shoulder massage....

Night Sounds

Tonight we got home from picking up Kraig just as dusk was falling. As we turned in to our subdivision we noticed the "red barn house" as we call it had a number of folks out front setting up for what looked to be a yard sale. In the middle of it were a twin bed mattress and a boxspring, two of the many things on our "much needed" list. By the time we reached our house we'd decided it was work worth walking back to find out if it was a sale and if so, how much they were asking for the mattress and boxspring.

The house across the street
surrounded by pines

We've had some reprieve in the weather here lately, but today was sticky and hot again. East Texas weather is the one downside factor of this move. Thankfully by the time we went for our walk the heat had let up and while the sticky still lingered it carried with it the sweet scent of damp vegetation--pines, moss, mulch. There are huge old trees all around our neighborhood including majestic pines.

Our venture was a success and we now have a mattress and box spring. Kraig and the girls ran to get the van to transport it home, and Jon and I made our way back by foot. Dark had fallen ad it was so quiet. We're in an older neighborhood off all main roads, and Longview isn't exactly a bustling metropolis anyway. As we walked, though, I realized how much sound there actually was. A frog peeped from one dark lawn. A few birds sent out a sleepy call here and there. Random insects tapped and chittered. Underscoring it all was the pervasive hum of the insect empire that outnumbers us humans by a vast multitude. I realized what a comforting sound it is; one of those background noises we take for granted. I hope I won't ever have to go without it.

Making a House a Home

Saturday is house project day. Well, I suppose every day has house stuff going, but Saturday is the day for the bigger jobs since Kraig is home. For the past two years we haven't had much in the way of home projects--an apartment doesn't call for much. But we are homeowners again and we have taken on a fixer upper. Too bad Chip and Joanna Gaines live three hours away....

Some days, I admit, the prospect of all that needs to be done and all we'd like to do is overwhelming, particularly when the dollars start adding up. But I have to admit I'm also excited about the possibilities and we're praying we'll be here long enough to see them come about. A lot can't be done yet--we can't put our house in Michigan up for sale till next year so our current funds are limited. But I can wait and dream. As Anne of Green Gables says, "There's so much scope for the imagination!"

While we dream, though, we're digging in and getting done what has to be done and what we can do. We can paint the bedrooms. We have to seal the windows and plug holes the wasps find inviting. We can rake out the brush under the three pecan trees in front of the house and start to collect the ripening nuts. We can put our books on shelves and food in cupboards and make the core of the house into a place where we can welcome friends and family.

Time, patience, and cash will all be needed, yes. But God has given us a place we can call home. He has plans we can't even imagine. The possibilities are endless!

Where Am I Again?

Last night I dreamt that I was trying to explain something to a girl and I had to speak in Spanish. It was quite realistic since I stumbled around to find the right words, the same way I always managed in Guadalajara. It wasn't until I woke that the significance of my dream hit. I'd finally dreamed in Spanish, albeit haltingly, after living for two years in Mexico...but we no longer live in Mexico. It was one of those bittersweet moments. We've had a lot of those this year, and I know there will be more.

This past summer we wrapped up our time in Guadalajara. We wished our apartment a cheerful farewell. It worked well for us, but we didn't mind saying goodbye to it. The farewells to friends, colleagues, students, cleaning and security staff for our apartment, and even the avocado vendor at our local street market--these were the more tearful farewells. Our church friends have been treasures without replacement, and Kraig has forged some strong connections with his fellow profs and some students. We've just begun to see the impact that time makes on relationships and we've had to say goodbye, leave the long-term in God's hands.

At the end of June Kraig was offered and accepted a position as assistant prof of civil engineering at LeTourneau University in Longview, Texas. Kraig and I did a whirlwind visit in July which ended in buying a home, and at the end of August we all moved down, moved in, and started the real work of settling.

It's a new adventure, and a new process, and we pray we can settle here for a good long time. It will take time to put down the roots--we know that. In the meantime I relish the visits to Walmart where I eavesdrop on the large local Hispanic community's Spanish conversation, enjoying the familiarity of the language more than grasping any of it. Sometimes I am almost tricked into thinking that when I walk outside I'll see the blue sky and cramped parking lot of my corner Walmart on Aviacion and Santa Margarita in Zapopan by Guadalajara. Tricked enough that I start dreaming in Spanish.

31 Day Writing Challenge: Finding Home in Longview

I'm already a day late, though hopefully not a dollar short....

Recently an email popped up reminding me that the October Write 31 Days challenge was once again about to begin. I took the challenge two years ago when we moved to Guadalajara, and while I'm thankful I did, I wisely avoided it last year. One could say I foolishly took the November Poem a Day challenge, but we won't go too deeply into that one. I can't deny I didn't have some fun with that!

So here I am on the second day of October, sitting in the family room of our new-to-us home in yet another part of the world thinking that maybe I should take up the challenge again. Two years ago I wrote about Finding Home in Guadalajara. There's been a lot of life lived since then, and this transition has been part of it. I think I will take the plunge, and we shall see what comes of Finding Home in Longview.

Here's to an October of writing!

October 3: Where Am I Again?
October 4: I'll Take Beauty With Me
October 5: How to Avoid Thinking
October 6: We've Got Mail
October 7: The Waiting Place

October 8: Making a House a Home
October 9: Reminders of Hutchmoot
October 10: It is a truth universally acknowledged that Mondays...
October 11: A Breath of Fresh Air
October 12: Night Sounds
October 13: Not Much of Anything
October 14: Rainy Day Friday
October 15: Saturdays Gone By
October 16: Church Home...I think....
October 17: The Bane of Popcorn Ceilings
October 18: All That Land
October 19: Park Day
October 20: A Time to Cook
October 21: Kindred Spirits
October 22: One man's trash and all that....
October 23: Grocery Shopping
October 24: Pecans
October 25: Shakespeare Under the Stars
October 26: A Taste for the Quiet Life
October 27: International Flavor
October 28: Zoo Trip
October 29: Pulling It All Together
October 30: Finding the Light Side

Schizophrenia Hits Home

Steam engine at Greenfield Village, Michigan

Last Saturday the kids and I returned to Guadalajara after spending six weeks back in the States, mostly in Michigan. Kraig spent the first three weeks with us, but had to return for a conference and university requirements. The kids and I, though, weren't bound to his schedule, so we sent him off to his solitude (poor dear) and stayed on to get some of the stateside work and visiting done. It was well worth it. We binged on family and friends, gorged ourselves in fact. I think all of us laid up stores of memories that will hold us well in the coming year. It was time "at home." It was familiar, so familiar. It was also a little strange because...well, because it wasn't all home....

Greenfield Village with Givens-side cousins

Greenfield Village with Warnemuende-side cousins

Meramac Caverns with Grandma & Grandpa Warnemuende

Kraig and me enjoying steak in Oklahoma with his bro & wife

So Kraig picked us up at the airport Saturday night. We stepped out into the familiar night of Guadalajara and were soon zipping along the road that would lead us...home.... Each part of the road was well-known to me. I knew the exit well. I knew the trick of how you need to watch the traffic to make sure you aren't run over. I knew the buildings and could read a lot on the signs (which gave me a little thrill of pleasure). The road in front of our apartment building was as bumpy and pot-hole filled as ever (actually, more than it was a month-and-a-half ago since there's been that much more of rainy season to erode it). But I know that road.

Apartment, sweet apartment with a good view of road

The apartment was the same old place, just lacking some of the knickknacks I'd put away for while we were gone. The cupboard in the kitchen had the same hitch that you have to work around to close it properly. The bed felt just right since Kraig had put our foam pad back on the mattress. There were eggs, bread, and milk waiting for us in the fridge. We were home.

But the day before I'd been home. Home in my parents' house that I have known for longer than any of the homes I've lived in since Kraig and I married. I drove down Lilley Road and looked at corners that I've driven by for more than thirty years. I had visited Greenfield Village, Henry Ford's collection of homes and buildings from various periods in American history. I'd talked with dear friends and hung out with family.

The mall on the corner with its ever-changing front

We've been back in Guadalajara for a week, and slowly the split feeling is fading. I'm more here now than there. But I'm still both. I can think of the two places simultaneously as if I belong in both, or as if I am in both, even when I'm not. For the first couple days back it meant treading carefully. I had to hang on to my mind to make sure I stayed present in the place where I was, not the place I'd been a few days before.

I don't envy the schizophrenic mind. It's hard enough figuring out where home is without dealing with a brain which convinces you that you are in two places.

Expert bag searchers

But I can't be in both places at once. The first night we were back Kraig asked Evie if she was glad to be home. "I am," she said. "I want to be here with you. But I kind of wish we could be here and in Michigan at the same time."

I understand this. I love Michigan. I've come to love things about Guadalajara. One has been home, but isn't totally now. The other is becoming more of home, but never will be completely.

If there are ever moments when I long for my final home in Christ it's in transition times like this. To be truly home, to be single-minded, to be with friends and family from here and there (and there and there and there....). That's something to look forward to. It's nice to remember in these schizophrenic moments that it won't always be like this.

For now, though, I will pray I can be present here--as much as I need to be.

Rainy season sky in Guadalajara