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.

Grocery Shopping

The kids have Awana Clubs on Sunday evening and it's the perfect time to do our serious grocery shopping. I got to Sam's Club and Walmart tonight, as well as Harbor Freight to pick up a couple things for Kraig. Getting to stores here is certainly easier than in Guadalajara.

It's nice to be in a town with such a large Hispanic population, though, because the stores carry just about all of the favorites we got used to in Guad. There are a couple things we haven't tracked down yet. We got hooked on Fritos con Limón (Fritos with Lime) while in Mexico, and unfortunately they don't seem to have crossed the border. But there are some more authentic Mexican groceries I haven't gotten to yet, so I'm holding out hope.

I also am reminded I'm in the South when I go to groceries here, that and we're near Louisiana. There are shelves full of Cajun fixings, and Sam's Club has an aisle devoted to various kids of fry oil--peanut, vegetable, coconut, you name it. Big vats of it. And fish fry seasonings and bread crumbs. These are delicacies we are still too new to Texas to fully appreciate. No worries there, though. There's time.

Now...if I can find the Middle Eastern spices and sauces I could get in Canton, Michigan, we'll really be cooking.

Saturdays Gone By

One of the events I really miss from Guadalajara was a monthly get-together some of us started last year. One Saturday a month we'd head to a local park and--well--play. The kids were let loose with some parental interaction. There was bike-riding, trampoline fun, pick-up soccer games, and whatever else came up. The parents would play, but they'd also talk, and talk, and talk. Those of us participating were primarily homeschooling, but that wasn't a requirement. What we did require was that the outing would be on a Saturday so that the working dads could come with the moms and kids. It was a lovely experience, and what I liked particularly about this group was that Kraig and I were connected with both spouses. Kraig had some deep male friendships, but they weren't just any guys. They were the husbands of my close friends and fathers of my kids' friends. I kind of knew it was a unique situation then, but being back in the States has driven that truth home.

Parents' schmooze time

Our connections here in Longview (so far) are a lot like those we had in Michigan. Kraig is forging friendships with profs (primarily male) at the university, and while I'm getting to know some of the wives through Bible study and the monthly wives get-together we aren't getting to know them in the context of couples or families. Our church so far is less connected to our weekday interactions. Or maybe I mean more that the interactions at church have only been there--they haven't overflowed into our lives. I hope that as we get to know folks better there will be more of an overflow, but that may take a while.

This post has actually gone off in a completely different direction than what I originally intended. I was thinking how it was easy to drop everything on a Saturday and head to a park with friends when we were living in an apartment in Guadalajara. Here we've got a house, and Saturday is, so far, for projects and family time (the kids got bikes today and Kraig worked to get them up and running). I wonder if that's the way things typically are for everyone here. Life is busy, and connecting may not rate as high in importance.

I shall have to ponder this.

Guadalajara Parco Metropolitano

A Breath of Fresh Air

Time out with other likeminded women is a breath of fresh air on a stinky hot summer day. I have been blessed so often with this opportunity. During our first fall in Guadalajara I wrote about the refreshment of a Bible study I was able to attend. As that first year progressed, I connected more with these ladies and others who became dear friends and lifelines--fellow moms-in-the-trenches, mentors, thinkers, dreamers.... Back in Michigan and scattered around the world there are other women, both family and friends, whom I treasure. It's hard not to be able to see them.

Here we are in Longview and while I can "connect" with friends far away there is a vital need to meet people here, in person. As soon as we landed at the end of August, two of the "engineering wives" (wives of profs in LeTourneau's engineering department) invited me to a small Tuesday morning Bible study at one of the local churches. I could attend and it was fine for the kids to come and do their work in another room I went and found a group of women of multiple ages and backgrounds who enjoy their time together, but also dig into Scripture. Right now they're working through Hebrews and I was intoxicated all over by discussion covering the New Covenant, etc. (Yes, I get a little carried away with these kinds of studies :) ). The whole time is such a refreshing connection. In addition to this group, a number of the attendees are engineering wives (or wives of husbands who are in related departments at LeTourneau) and these women get together once a month for dinner and fellowship. Tonight we had dinner at the home of one of the families--it's my second one of these.

It will take time, I know, for friendships to grow. It will be a bit before there will be get-together times besides these scheduled ones. I may even need to be the one who initially pushes something. But for now these scheduled events are great for helping me breathe.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Mondays...

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Mondays are abominable.

I completely agree that the degree of abomination is mostly in relation to one's attitude. But the attitude isn't always mine, and there is only so much I can do about another's. My eldest was in rare form today and she blamed it on the day of the week.

"I never like Mondays," she declared, glower fully engaged. "Mondays are always awful!"

And it was pretty awful, thanks, in a good way to the foul attitude. Middle and youngest child did their fair bit of whining and snipping, too, and everything took about three times as long as it should have. Naturally I was calm and noble throughout, gently leading my fractious young to see that their behavior indicated something hard in their hearts. And they responded with warmth and affection and peace was restored.

Um...
Excuse me a minute....
I can't seem to see what I'm writing over the length of my nose....

Okay. No. The truth is I lost it a few times. I try to turn the issue to the heart of the matter rather than just reacting, but I did react badly. There are so many times, particularly with our eldest, that we wonder when and if she'll be willing to let God soften her.

"You need to look at why you're feeling this way and behaving like this," I pled with her at one point. "Write it down and do a little self-analysis. Pray about it."

"I'm self-analyzing myself all the time!" she shot back. And knowing her, I don't doubt it. There's a battle that often goes on inside that head and heart of hers and all Kraig and I can do is pray that she'll surrender it at some point and stop trying to always be the one in charge.

Meanwhile, Kraig and I keep analyzing ourselves, her, how we're dealing with things, and praying that we're taking the right steps. I was reminded again today by an article my mom sent me that transitions are tough. And while (or because) our eldest has always been stubborn, passionate, too-smart-for-her-own-good, these transitions have often been more difficult for her than her siblings.

For me right now, I'm just thankful that today is over. Onward to Tuesday!

The Waiting Place

Earlier today:

Today is update-our-drivers' licenses day. We'd hope to wait till a week from now when Kraig has Fall break and we could have switched off with running there while we kept on with house projects. But Kraig discovered this morning that if we didn't get our voter registration taken care of today we wouldn't be set up for the November elections. He doesn't have classes today, so here we all here, getting Kraig and my licenses and registration taken care of.

It's a long line. I've managed to avoid departments of transportation (or department of public safety, as it's called here) for years and it seems that when I last had my license updated with a picture it went surprisingly quickly. I don't think this will be quick--there seem to be two completely separate sets of numbers in which they're calling people up. And since it was a surprise last-minute scramble to get here we'll see if we have enough busy work to keep us occupied. Kraig is creating math problems for Clare to do (which, miraculously she asked him to do). Ev's making her way through her multiplication. Jon should be writing, but he's playing cling-boy today and lying with his head on my lap. We're sitting on the floor 'cause there aren't enough chairs.

In Michigan you take care of license plates and drivers licenses in one place. In Longview (in Texas?) you take care of your license plate and car registration in one place...and your drivers' license at the Department of Public Safety. The car registration was fairly quick and painless--it's helpful that the info website tells you all of the things you'll need--as opposed to most things in Guadalajara where things are revealed piece by piece like clues on a scavenger hunt. But why do these offices for drivers' licenses, et all, take so, so long? It's the mystery of the ages. It's the dreaded Waiting Place from Dr. Suess' Oh the Places You'll Go.

Did I mention that Kraig and I managed to get through two years in Guadalajara with our Michigan licenses? I think it was okay since I was on tourist status that whole time were there. Kraig was on temp residential status, so I'm not sure what he was supposed to do. Whatever the case, we flew under the radar. I'm thankful. I don't think I could have managed this in Spanish.



Addendum this evening:

After waiting about an hour and a half were were called up, only to find out we needed about four additional pieces of paperwork (they ended up using our birth certificates, passports, social security cards, and marriage license...and the lady kept commenting about how strange our Michigan papers were!). Was all of this info on the website I looked at a few weeks back when I got the registration information? I can't remember. With the rush today we forgot to check again. All that to say, we got lunch, gathered the right supplies and headed back. A couple hours later Kraig and I had temp Texas license plates in hand.

How to Avoid Thinking

It seems like most of our days right now are non-stop motion. Today was no exception. We were up early to get Kraig off; we only have one car right now, so unless we organize things to be sure that the kids and I don't need the car for the day we need to run Kraig to the school and pick him up in the evening. It's a much better commute than when we lived in Michigan and Kraig was driving to and from Detroit each day, 40 minutes each way. However our new 15 minute commute is a far cry from Guadalajara when we waved goodbye and Kraig walked across the street to the campus. 

Each weekday after Kraig's off we have the blur of school for the kids. Some days go more seamlessly than others there. Today the kids got their work done and didn't complain, but I was disorganized, so I felt like there was mass chaos even though there wasn't. The house kind of exploded with mess, and we ran out of black printer ink just when I needed it. Of course. I have three boxes with colored ink because we stocked up on it when we went to Guadalajara. Black ink, apparently, got short shrift.

Then we had to rush out the door to an estate sale that had a bunch of yard equipment Kraig needs...except that by the time we got there everything from our arm-long list was gone except a seed spreader. At least that was there. And a fan we needed. Sigh.

After that it was off to a local park where a bunch of moms and kids from the homeschool community here get together each Wednesday afternoon. It's been good for us to get there and start to get to know people, though it means an effort of extraverting in a group that primarily consists of introverts, including me. 

Usually after the park we hit Aldi's because it's in the same part of town and their milk and eggs are ridiculously inexpensive (among other things), but today we only had time to go to Target to look for a toothbrush holder of the kids' bathroom. We had a gift card and I've been putting the kids off going for way too long.

We rushed home after that in time to get the kids fed before the girls had a meeting for a group at the church we've been attending. The group meets once a month and tonight was the night. Kraig texted meanwhile to ask that we pick him up late, so after Jon and I dropped off the girls we did the Aldi's run, got Kraig, then picked up the girls and finally got home. I am certainly getting to know the routes around Longview well.

Let's see.... It's now 9:30 and I think this is the first time I've really sat today. I admit today was busier than most, but even when we're not running around there are plenty of house projects to be done. As crazy as all this is, I realized this is one reason why this move has been less fraught with emotional trauma than our move to Guadalajara: I haven't had much time to think about it....

I'll Take Beauty With Me

Years ago I read a quote of Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay "Self-Reliance" that, in essence, drove home this truth: you can't get away from yourself. 

Morelia Cathedral, Mexico

"Traveling is a fool's paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home, I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I seek the Vatican and palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sight and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go."

One thinks, "When I go on vacation, I'll finally de-stress and all of these issues will go away," or "If I move and start over, I can leave all of this behind me." But then the vacation comes or the move happens, and one discovers the issues are still there, perhaps even exacerbated by the change. 

Kraig and I had no illusions that our moves would be painless, nor did we go into them for the purpose of leaving something behind. Thankfully, no, we moved both to Guadalajara and to Longview because the doors opened, and it was clear that these were places God wanted us. Going through those doors with eyes open, though, didn't nullify the shocks to the system. Nor did we avoid coming face to face with parts of ourselves we'd rather have left behind.

This has been true for our kids as well. Hard, too, because there is so much they can't process or put into words. As a result their feelings and thoughts burst out in negative actions and attitudes. You know the kind; the kind that make parents want to disown their child...particularly when these actions or attitudes occur in the middle of the grocery store. Does that sound slightly specific? I can't imagine what you mean! Anyway, all that to say, these parents who are already exhausted by their own emotions must learn to help their kids navigate the transitions. We've learned a lot about that in the past few years, and while in many ways all of us are transitioning better this time, the upheavals still occur. I suppose seeing my kids' outbursts and helping them work through things helps me realize my own frustrations and face them better. If nothing else these situations are supremely humbling.

When I double-checked the Emerson quote, I stumbled on another of his with a more positive spin:

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."

God has given our family the choice and opportunity in moving to bring what is beautiful with us. We have brought our faith, our family, our experiences, our memories. If we cling to them as lovely things now past, we'll be miserable. I'd rather bring them and apply them to the new. I have no doubt I will soon find more that is beautiful, and I pray that our kids will, too.

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.

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