Life in the Slow Lane

Selah

2025-08-28T23:00:00.000-07:00

We are selling our home. My friend Josie came and helped me pack up some of the hardest things today. These are the seed packets of pretty much every plant I ever grew or tried to grow on this property. I thought one day I’d decoupage them to something but i never did. Today it was time to let them go, so true to our photographer selves, Josie and I staged this epic slo-mo video of me tossing them in the air, saying farewell to all those good old days.

It’s hard to admit to myself, much less other people that we are actually leaving our home of 22 years, the only home we’ve ever owned. When we moved in it was our first year of officially homeschooling 5 year old Eva and Isaac was 2 and Levi was just 3 months old.

We had lived in such small spaces their whole little lives that moving into this cavernous house frightened them, and they all camped out in our room the first few nights. That would be a rotating pattern over the years: babies sleeping in our bed until they were two and at least once a week, a small knock at the door, requesting to sleep next to our bed.

We were the first family to live in our house. It was built for people who wanted to buy the horse stables on our road, but they backed out. I still can’t believe we were able to buy it. We sold a small lot we owned in Warm Beach for the down payment and felt like we were hillbillies moving into a mansion. And yet over the years as we broke the house in, it became like a favorite T shirt, or your coziest leather shoes: it just fit. We could walk through the back field to grandma Diane and grandpa Rod’s house and it felt like a dream life.

We welcomed Pearl, our Tortie kitten, who eventually lived very loyally and grumpily to a ripe old age of 19 , passing away in my arms. My brother Danny moved here from Hawaii, living with us for a while after having met a pretty girl from Bellevue named Emma through an online dating website, back when online dating was brand new. Emma and Danny married and now live seven minutes from here in our 4h leader’s former home. A baby I named Anna was conceived and went to heaven at only 12 weeks a few years later. My parents built a house on our street and for a time we had the fun of having both sets of grandparents on our road for stretches of time in winter or summer.

A parade of chickens and garden plants followed and soon we welcomed Saraiah, our rainbow baby, who was born at my midwife Charlotte’s house with a welcoming crew of both sets of grandparents, her 3 siblings and her uncles waiting in the waiting room complete with a choreographed swing dance.

Our sweet yellow lab Koa joined the family next, losing a leg along the way and not caring, helping us raise our kids and keep them safe and comforted and passing away at the age of 12.

Somewhere along the way early on, Brandon took a year and taught himself to be a software engineer, providing for our family from home for the remainder of our time here, working patiently with noise canceling headphones while the wild rumpus of children paraded by our bedroom door, eventually leading him to build himself an office in the garage.

Maia was born here in this house, just after my brother and his wife got back from their honeymoon. My best friends were there for the birth with Eva and my mom also there to meet her. My grandpa and his wife Fran had driven from Indiana days before (probably for the wedding) and got to meet the hours-new baby Maia.

I remember understanding that Maia had a special connection with animals when she as a two year old had the patience to take Koa on walks as a puppy. It was because of her and Eva’s dedication to animals that we made 4h a part of our lives with each child having a stint. Animals raised and sometimes showed include angora, pygora, dairy and fainting goats, sheep, llamas, alpacas, ducks, chickens, quail, a hamster,a hermit crab, a bunny, parakeets, turkeys, fish and even a hognose snake. Much life passed through the gates of our property and the doors of our house.

We hosted prayer group at our house. It started when I was pregnant with Saraiah and 19 years later we are still meeting. I guess I’ll join via FaceTime next time. The Reinsma, Donnelson, Shanholtz and Ritterbush kids became fast friends through this time, running wild in the yard and house while we prayed over their lives , our families and one another. There were endless play dates and sleepovers with friends from church, school, and everywhere.

Somewhere in this time the Long family became connected to ours and more lifelong friends were made. We had great times with cousins on both the Donnelson and Kirk sides, the most memorable one being the time Saraiah and Sienna played with "eye polish" which I soon found out was nail polish and had to flush her eye or lose it, according the the adamant woman at poison control.

Homeschool co ops for German, art, biology, health and Washington state history were held around our table and poultry 4h was hosted here too. Dozens of 4h posters and scores of homeschool workbooks were completed in our dining room. As Eva, Saraiah and Maia discovered their love for art, every type of art form was practiced at our table, kitchen, living room, bedrooms, yard and yes, even on many walls. They felted, sculpted, carved, printed, spun,knitted, crocheted, beaded, embroidered, sewed, cross stitched, painted and sketched. Music was made by all the children: recorder, piano, clarinet, viola, flute, alto and bari sax. Skits were dreamed up and filmed, even a video was made to a song by Forrest Frank’s Sunday Best.

Endless Lego creations were made, especially by that boys, nerf dart action and dress-up silliness, including a cheap version of a chuck e cheese birthday at home, where Isaac dressed up as isaac cheese. The boys scaled buildings and decks, made forts in the woods, sledded on our hill, rode bikes on the road and went sliding on frozen puddles. They found snakes and salamanders and even raced chickens in the creek one time. Thankfully all chickens lived! And when it was time to be inside, hardy boys audiobooks were a favorite.

Our living room and bedrooms were host to thousands upon thousands of pages of books read aloud: adventures for the imagination and intellect, igniting a lifelong curiosity about the world I see growing in our now adult kids. I get to hear about all the recipes Eva and her boyfriend are trying, and the new hand crafts she is doing, and the ways she as an OT is coaxing people weary with pain to work at things they are nearly ready to abandon, so that they can be with their families.

I see my son Isaac exploring the world with his son, daughter and wife, carrying on the legacy of wonder. I see his bravery to try new things with bravery because he knows it’s what he and his wife want for their family. I see my son Levi showing anyone who will listen the joy of flight and aviation and Formula One and see him easily make conversation with anyone he meets, learning about their life experiences and thus enhancing his own.

I listen to Saraiah describe with a spark in her eye the latest things she’s learning about the human body and the ways she gets to help people heal in health care. I see the way she sees each person and is genuinely curious about their lives. I see Maia learning art techniques from scratch, building a skill set and work ethic that is preparing her to take what she sees in the world, and giving it back with her unique style and insightful character.

Eventually our 4h and homeschool days slowed as we drew upon the expertise of teachers outside of our 4 walls, our books, private lessons and homeschool and friend circles. We used more public school programs and sports became the thing. We did taekwondo with the 3 oldest getting black belts. Grandpa Rod built Isaac a platform out back to practice discus throwing, and eventually every child in our family competed, but Isaac was always the most passionate. Select basketball took over and Levi and Saraiah sometimes played on 2-3 teams in a year. By the time Covid hit we had 3 basketball hoops in our driveway.

And ah Covid. It was the time my anxious mind went hog wild and I was at one point bleaching the groceries, I kid you not. It came right at the time of a hard season of pain in several ways for our family, and so it was hard on our family in some ways as some left, and good as some returned. Eva’s university shut down and she completed her science degree at home. Maia devoured many series of books. Saraiah breathed art. Our last big garden was during this time and it was perfect.

We welcomed a daughter into the family when Isaac married Alyssa and our first grandchild came not long after.

And then things opened up again and the high tide of life ebbed as our kids made their way out into the world. Our house was nearly empty when in January of 2024 everyone slowly moved home. By January of 2025, all five of our kids were back home with our daughter in law and grandson and a granddaughter soon to arrive in February. Christmas of 2024 I got to have all of my children and extras under one roof and my heart was full to bursting with joy.

And soon the ebb came again. Isaac and Alyssa moved their family to Florida. Maia and I helped move the babies and the cats. Brandon’s parents decided to move to Texas to be with his brother and their youngest grandchildren. Eva moved in with her boyfriend Kevin. Saraiah applied to universities and was accepted and decided to go to EWU. Levi started hatching plans to move to Florida eventually.

We visited Florida and had to leave the grandbabies behind again and came home to a house that was soon to be empty. And we realized it was time to say farewell to the sweet life we’ve been living here so that we can be more free to be where our kids end up in the world.

And God brought us the sweetest family to buy our home. Friends of our friends and neighbors, they are a younger homeschooling family who loves the Lord and they have five children with about the same age span as ours. They have a small farm and plan to continue to farm here in some aspect. The mama of the family even knows all the plant names like I do and their kids wear soft star shoes, which is what I wear and she uses an ergo baby carrier like I did. They are eager to join the sweet community on our road of many young families who also love Jesus. It’s just what I prayed for, but I didn’t know I was praying it for them instead of me. God always answers prayers in the ways we never would have expected and this is no exception.

We had gone to Florida this summer asking God for clarity for next steps, as Brandon felt the nudge to sell our home and move on in life and not have to work so hard, and really have time to enjoy the family. I was reluctant to move on so quickly as we had just had literally everyone at home as recently as February and I was just adjusting to my new normal and Maia still had one year left of school.

We didn’t know if we should move soon or where. We did know we would want to be near family. We knew we couldn’t downsize in Western Washington with prices being so high and that put Hawaii out of mind as well. That left Texas and Florida. Of course Florida was winning out with our grandbabies there, as well as a good university for art.

And so we prayed and by the end of the trip we knew we needed to prep our house to sell. We thought we would tell ourselves to act like we would sell by end of summer and get everything ready.

Instead, on the one day we were home before leaving again to take Saraiah to orientation at EWU, our neighbor asked the fateful question: “Are you still thinking of selling?” and I replied “It would have to be a God thing, a miracle of just the right people” because as much as I knew it was time, I didn’t want to leave this beautiful place the year I finally learned to love winter. I didn’t want to say goodbye to our hill and the view of the sunrise and White Horse and 3 fingers mountain.

I didn’t want to leave our summer field of daisies and our fall fields of fog. I didn’t want to leave the raspberries, the plums, the peaches, the cherries. I wanted to finally taste the fruit of the first crop of our pear apple tree, to witness the blooms of our freshly planted magnolia and dogwood trees. I wanted to gaze out the window at the willow tree, a picture from my childhood book made real. I wanted to grow old here, to build a house in the field and watch the sunsets and see my grandchildren living next door. I wanted to go on walks with friends in town and hikes in the mountains. I wanted to sit on beaches at sunset and spin yarn by the fire.

But that wasn’t the future God had in mind for me, for us. He has something new. Something wild and I don’t even know what it is. It’s probably wildly simple, and I know it’s just what we need. And yet instead of moving straight out to Florida, God is asking us to pause. I was experiencing a lot of stress and honestly a lot of grief in this transition. My body was not pleased with me and after a stern warning from my massage therapist I prayed with Brandon again. We asked for guidance. And my mom offered to allow us to take our pause time at her house in Hawaii. So although it’s difficult to be moving away from all of our kids, we are going to Hawaii with Maia for the year and we will see what God has next.

It’s time for selah. A pause. We will wait on the Lord and listen and eagerly expect an answer in just the right timing. https://barefootmommy.blogspot.com/2025/08/selah.html

DMV coffee

2025-05-21T20:01:00.000-07:00

Ok, as promised, here’s our brilliant idea to revolutionize the DMV guys! They can partner with a coffee shop! Instead of dreading going to the DMV, people will look forward to it!

I’m imagining friends texting each other, “Samantha, let’s totally meet up at the DMV coffee shop today and grab some lattes and catch up while I get my drivers license renewed!”

Or a mom and her teen and celebrate with a red bull charger for the 16 year old and a caramel macchiato for mom after surviving all those brushes with death during drivers ed practice!

People would sit at cozy cafe tables and chairs all over the room and bring a book or laptop or charge their phone at a charging port while they scroll away on free WiFi.

There could be trendy music that would quiet just a bit as a peaceful sounding Siri like voice announces who’s next by number and name as the name appears on a wall mounted framed tv screen.

People would be jealous of others who get to go to the DMV, “ What.. you get to go to the DMV??? I have to go to jury duty tomorrow.!”

Everyone would covet a job at the DMV cafe because of its state benefits and the coffee would be known to be the best because it would attract the best baristas in the land!

Not only would a DMV coffee shop partnership benefit the good citizens of the state by bringing joy, it would also rake in some much needed funds for our state, doing its own part in reducing the deficit.

What do you think? What else should the DMV coffee shop have going for it?

The DMV’s special waiting method

2025-05-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

The DMV is like another dimension. It’s like if you imagine the worst way to wait in line and bring it to reality.

Here is their special method, observed by me and my daughter while waiting to renew her drivers permit today.

1) Allow appointments, but make them 2 months out.

2) Allow walk-ins, but be sure the wait is a minimum of 1.5 hours

3) Assign numbers to walk ins, but make those numbers completely arbitrary and not based on the actual number of people in the room

4) Broadcast the numbers on a screen, have a robot read them aloud as they are called and be sure to mix them in with other arbitrary numbers and wait times for the people with actual appointments they made two months ago.

5) Arrange at minimum 100 chairs in a rectangle of despair, facing toward nothing but the 5 DMV employees who will one day help you

6) Be sure internet, cell phone service and WiFi doesn’t work in the waiting area

7) Make it silent except for the robot voice repeating numbers in the queue

8 ) Absolutely under no circumstance should you be open on Monday. How else will you pack the place on Tuesday?

That is the recipe for the perfect excrutiating way to wait in line.

Our remedy for the agony? Chat with the sweet older lady next to us who may or may not have had dementia, given that she thought she had arrived at 830 when she arrived after us at 1130 and then later said she came at 12:30 when it was 12:19. She had cute fluffy dogs at home and used to work in cosmetics at Nordstrom though and was now retired and also remembered that Seattle DMV is much larger.

Stay tuned for part two of our solution to DMV waiting. It will revolutionize the DMV, if only they will hheed our suggestions!

You are beautiful

2025-05-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

You are beautiful. I look at you and I see everything I know about you and you shine, the whole package of you and I am in awe. I want to show you what I see, what I admire about you because I am not sure if you know! Behind the lens and framed just so, it all comes together, and I can't help but exclaim, "Aw, you're so beautiful!"

I see you, the way you manage your multigenerational household and still have the energy to give thoughtful gifts and love your child for the treasure he is. I see you serving your church, community and family in countless ways, always looking for more. I see your eyes, gentle and fierce with eighty years of age and a shining with wonder as you speak of how wonderful heaven will be, all those who love Jesus gathered together. I see you look at your daughters all grown and beautiful, knowing all of their stories and happily appreciating the beauty of family and sisters, content to sit in the shade of their loveliness. I see you quiet and gentle, brightening to get to take a photo with your mother, who you clearly adore. I see your aged wisdom, the kind that knows the deep value that comes in encouragement of the younger generation and your own, causing each woman you meet to feel their unique importance.

And you are beautiful, And this is why I photograph. Each person mentioned is an actual woman I photographed yesterday at our church's ladies tea. It is an opportunity to dress fancy and be elegant and to be reminded of our signfiicance as daughters of the King. The mission behind my photography is to try to give people a glimpse of this: of the beautiful way God has created them.

Because we don't look at the shape of a flower and complain of its flaws. No, we exclaim about its fragrance, its color and the way both we and the bees are drawn to it. We don't look at our favorite pet and say, oh, his ear is placed too crooked and his nose too small. No, we think of the times we were at our wits end and this pet knew this was the time to flop on down, resting its head upon our chest. We, like the tiniest flower and the humblest pet are radiantly beautiful. We are beautiful because of our whole story and our whole being, our purpose and our presence.

Therefore there is no reason we should look at our eyes as too small, our forehead too large, or our skin too red. Those are part of the stunning package that radiates all God has created us to be, and every proportion and pigment is beautiful because of the stunning gifts it holds. You are beautiful, and you'd better believe it!

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139: 13,14

Making nature trend

2025-05-16T18:36:00.000-07:00

I recently heard about how things that used to be every day life are trending. Right now an aesthetic called “cottage core” is trending, where rural and traditional living is idealized.

I was thinking, what if nature was trending?

I’m picturing a girl on tiktok:

“Ohmigosh you guys, dandelions are totally trending right now. Next up i predict it’s gonna be buttercups. I can just feel that daisies are gonna be right on the heels of that, wrapping up the season with something kinda funky: thistle.”

Let’s make nature trend guys! 😁😁😁

🌼🌼🌼

#cottagecore

Holding on and letting go

2025-05-16T18:32:00.000-07:00

Are you holding onto things from the last season of your life? I know I am. Not just things but feelings and moments. Sometimes I think I confuse the memories and moments with the things and fear letting go because maybe I’ll lose those memories too.

This wicker chair, broken and mossy, holds memories of when my sons and daughters were babies and they sat on it at grandma and grandpa’s house. And when it became a hand me down to us, it held memories of times working in the garden listening to music and watching things grow.

I pulled this chair from the burn pile because of those memories. It’s moss-covered and sinks into the ground but looking at it makes me feel comfortable and happy. But you know, just remembering those times can do the same for me. I think it’s time for this photo to suffice. I wonder what other things I need to let go of? Letting go of a thing doesn’t mean letting go of the happiness we experienced. What are you holding onto for the sake of a moment or a memory?

Love who is beside you.

2022-07-01T17:35:00.008-07:00

As we dialogue today with one another about abortion, let us remember who is beside us.

"For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another." Galatians 5:13-15

Beside you are the mothers who lost babies through miscarriage before the date of viability. And yet the child was named and grieved.

Beside you sits the woman making the payment for the medically coded "missed abortion" after hemorrhaging for 6 weeks due to an incomplete miscarriage... a woman wheeled into a D&C wondering if there could maybe be a heartbeat and terrified looking at the tools to be used on her as she fell asleep.

Beside you are the women who faced an unplanned pregnancy at university and felt they had to choose between an education and motherhood, women whose own mothers and all around them felt the same quandary and made the same decision feeling they had no choice.

Beside you sits the woman with an unfinished degree whose course was changed that day by her unplanned pregnancy, but was met with support upon announcing this child, and went on to make motherhood her vocation.

Beside you sits the teen pregnancy, chosen with the boyfriend to keep, then bafflingly lost and grieved in quiet.

Beside you sits the young woman violated by a man she should have been able to trust, terrified ever to bear a child.

Beside you sits the mother who gladly carried her child and then was told late in pregnancy that termination was needed due to the child's incompatibility with life, and who grieves that child each day.

Beside you sits another mother who was told while abroad to terminate due to a terminal fetal condition, but chose to carry and later lost that child, also beloved.

Beside you sits the mother whose daughter and son were taken into foster care because of the addiction she could not break.

And beside you sits the mother who adopted those children because she could not bear her own.

Let us have compassion and love.

5 Ways to Make Abortion Unnecessary or Obselete

2022-05-04T19:57:00.003-07:00

There is controversy now more than ever over the issue of abortion and how it is handled by our government. Both those who support the right to abortion and those who do not, agree one one primary tenet. We all want to make abortion unnecessary or obsolete.

The following ideas seem expensive and they are. Being a human takes resources. We are the wealthiest nation in the world. When we support parents and families through our tax dollars, or through funding of private charitable non governmental organizations (NGOs), our economy grows and our standard of living increases. When we pretend that living does not cost money or take resources, and that a person in poverty or in crisis of some sort can simply make things work without support, we lie to one another and to ourselves.

When we change our paradigm and accept care for our fellow men and women, we indeed can make abortion unnecessary and obsolete. What if we implemented change in our society in the following 5 areas? What might happen?

1) Normalize babies in the work place, whether through babywearing on the job by both parents, or through federally subsidized or NGO supported workplace childcare. Every human with a job was once a baby.

2) Normalize babies, families and single parents in universities and yes, mainstream non-alternative high schools. Subsidize in-school child care. If we want people to learn at all costs, child care is worth the cost for the sake of future generations.

4) Normalize parenting as a viable vocation for both men and women, supporting single income family wages through tax incentives for both families and employers.

5) For every federal dollar spent on STD testing and treatment, pregnancy testing and women's health screening at Planned Parenthood, earmark $10, or one dollar for each of the following services through a federally funded organization or NGO:

A. Mental health counseling and treatment

B. Food security for at risk people

C. Subsidized Adoption

D. In-patient and out patient substance abuse treatment and detox

E. Shelter, treatment, counsel and support for victims of sexual assault, domestic violence and trafficking

F. Free, easily obtained OB-GYN and pediatric care

G. Parenting education and support

H. Shelter and care for homeless or at risk teens,

I . Long term, easily obtained housing for young parents and their children.

J. Fully funded foster and respite care

Instead of being divided and shouting over one another, what if we listen? What if we put our time, money, resources and hearts where our words are? What if we work together to end abortion in our own communities, beginning by supporting the people most at risk of turning toward it as a last resort?

What if we worked together to make abortion largely irrelevant to modern life?

What are some other ways humanity can work together toward this end?

Trusty Steed

2022-03-03T00:00:00.013-08:00

195,418 miles and almost 14 years. We bought our 2007 Toyota Sienna in 2008 with 28,596 miles on it. I was pregnant with our youngest when we bought it, and this is the only car that we have had that fit our family of 7. I'm not a person of numbers, but maybe saying goodbye to a really great car makes you nostalgic in ways you aren't normally.

Scrapping our minivan closes the formative years of our family. We bought it when our family was complete, and we say goodbye to it when our family is nearly all grown. Our 3 legged dog named Koa passed away this year, and as he passed, I realized he helped raise our kids, giving them comfort in sad times, helping them feel safe, making them laugh and teaching them about compassion, love and loss.

194,418 miles in a vehicle means our blue minivan was there for us in its own way, our trusty steed carrying us through each milestone, adventure, heart to heart conversation, and every mundane errand. It was there when our youngest was born, carrying her to her firsts of almost everything. It was there for countless homeschool field trips, first and last days of school, regular class days, band concerts, football, basketball and soccer games, track and cross country meets, proms, homecoming, graduations and trips to college. It drove us through Death Valley, Yellowstone, to many camping trips, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Disneyland, San Francisco, the Redwoods, the Oregon and Washington Coast, Leavenworth, Lake Tahoe, Silverwood in Idaho, WSU and Eastern Washington University.

It took us to 4H meetings and fairs, hauling many tons of hay and feed, innumerable chickens, alpacas, fleeces and goats. It has taken us into town 7 times in a day and to Safeway and dozens of other stores thousands of times. It has taken us on hospital or nursing home visits and just down the street to see the grandparents. It has seen 4 brand new drivers grow in confidence and had run-ins with a community garden fence, our field fence, a ditch, the mechanic's car and my brother's car. (running into our field fence was the only one I did, haha). It has my son's name carved in it, a scrape across the side, bits of hay tucked into crevices and many missing interior parts. It endured many a kid temper tantrum, steely silent treatment, heated teenager discussion, and has carried many quiet tears. It has had its speakers nearly blown out with the volume of music and heard every type of song that can be sung at the top of one's lungs. It has carried joy and contagious laughs, hilarious jokes and so much happiness.

It has taken kids to summer jobs, movie nights and sleepovers, volunteer opportunities and church. We have had many family "ussies" and kid selfies and the van has photobombed many a photo. Almost every friend has had a ride in it, with the final hurrah being a trip to the state championship cross country meet in Pasco. Maybe our minivan didn't raise us as a family, but it certainly helped to carry us. I am thankful for its faithful service. Goodbye Toyota Sienna with your pink peeling Hello Kitty sticker, doors you have to muscle open, musty smell and remarkable amount of interior square footage, We are thankful for you and love the years we spent with you rolling along with us. Much love to you, and may your parts keep many other trusty minivans running for years to come.

Home

2020-08-11T00:09:00.000-07:00

I am two versions of myself. I am the eager and curious learner, seeking new ways to know about God's great creation alongside of my kids, ready to consider new ways to discover and grow together. I am also the stalwart path keeper, fearful of leaving the trail I have traveled thus far, wary of missing the finish point, remembering failures and keeping them too closely.

How do you raise a child?

Who has taught anyone what the right way to go is except God, and even then it's confounding because I do what I do not want to do and so do they, and we all forget that there is a great Creator who has created these infinitely contradictory minds and souls that make us ourselves, and why can't we trust?

It is easy to love. When they are born with their their fuzzy little ears, wrinkled foreheads and tiny toes, how can we not? When their tiny wail pierces our heart, we forget everything and they are just there and we are just theirs.

And then it is night, and we are checking to see the rise and fall of their breath to be sure that we are doing that one thing right at least, even if we have been awoken by with the startling realization that we have no idea, no clue what is actually next.

But then soon the morning daylight makes the breakfast table glow and they are there eating cereal with their halo of wild hair and joy makes the room radiant and we know this is what is next. We take hour long walks to go a fourth of a mile and find that angular chunks of gravel are some how the most mesmerizingly beautiful thing to a toddling person, and so we wonder with them about it all.

And then it is night and there is the thought of letters and colors and are they speaking words or sentences yet? Did they chant too long while listening to the sound of their own voice or should they have crawled instead of scooted? And how did that one child read books at only 4?

But the rooster crows at the dawn and a snuggly tiny person crawls right into the valley of pillows and it's clear that stories and endless works of art on copy paper are the way we will spend the waking hours ahead. Maybe it's time to gently teach sounds and there was that one workbook we were given.

And then the sun sets and it is very dark indeed. Were those eyes crossing as a tiny hand gripped a crayon? Why did the shape of a sound on paper make no sense to this older one of mine? And who put me in charge anyway when all I feel is frustration and I sure wish my feelings could stay in a bubble so no one could sense them at all?

But later comes another morning, and it is time to see the eye of that fly we picked off the window sill a hundred times larger, to cry with A Little Princess in England, and to learn the pain of children in our country's South treated far less than the fearfully, wonderfully made creation that they are. There are long division problems that are so miraculously correct that looking at answers twice is required. There is cursive learned in five different ways and somehow they learn to write down their stories. There are crochet projects for Japan, rubberband bracelets for Oso, and eventually young boys strong enough to lift the things I cannot budge, and prayers to have a good sleep, and "I love you, how much, all the world!" said probably said at least five thousand times each.

Years and decades ebb and flow with the tide of mornings and evenings and there are times that make me hold my breath, and others that make it hard to breathe. Sometimes my heart sinks, and sometimes I am sure it must not be working properly anymore, because how can a person live when their heart is walking around outside their body?

But then comes the day when a pounding on the door brings a grown son home safe, a daughter chooses to keep company on even the dullest of errands, a son towering over you says "can you just hug me?", a no longer tiny girl sidles in for a rare snuggle during a special kindred moment shared, and a strong tall girl speaks up loud for a quiet one.

Then, the words right there in my hallway, copied carefully from the Word in chalk come alive:

"And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

I was praying these words for my children when maybe they were for me.

I do not know how you raise a child, but I know they do get raised, with the fierceness of the protection of a thousand fiery horses and chariots, and with the peace that defies understanding when our eyes are opened to see we are not alone. There will be another morning and even another night, and maybe if I can always remember to keep on looking for the hidden, fiery light, it's ok if the two versions of myself are one.

Growing in the Valley

2017-03-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

A paraglider jumps off Blanchard Mountain into the Skagit Valley in Washington State

"It's in the valley where growth happens." This was part of today's message at church. It's interesting how accurate an illustration it really is when you think about the natural world. The point of saying this was to say that even though pinnacle, mountain top spiritual experiences are awesome, we really grow and can help others grow too in the hard and challenging times.

Atop Oyster Dome on Blanchard Mountain

When you think about an actual mountain top and a valley ecologically, there isn't a lot of growth that happens high on the mountain. The winds and rains and snows wash away the topsoil and leach the nutrients. As a result, the things that grow there are slow-growing and stunted, resulting in a really beautiful view for anyone who visits up there. It's inspiring and even necessary in life to be able to go somewhere to be energized and to be able to look at things from afar, but after a while, there's not much you can do there. If you were a cedar tree, you couldn't grow tall and strong. If you were a garden, you wouldn't be able to grow.

In Makaha Valley, the place I grew up in Hawaii

But back down in the valley is where the rains washed all the nutrients and where the silt has collected all the good fertility of the mountain. It's there that you can grow fields of corn or wheat and they will thrive. It might be harder work in the valley because not only will the crops grow, so will all the weeds, but you can remember when you stood on the mountaintop imagining what those fields could look like, and all they could produce, and you are able to carry on.

Makaha Valley Stream

Makaha Valley

In the same way, humpback whales give birth to their babies in the safe and clear water of the pacific ocean near Hawaii. It is warm and the weather is good. Mothers can easily nurture their babies, but if they remain there long enough, the mothers will starve to death because they need food and their babies are nursing and taking much from them. There are not rich amounts of plankton and krill to feed them in those clear waters.

Mother and baby make the long, hard journey north to the waters off of Alaska where baby and mom can eat. It's colder and maybe not as beautiful as the clear blue ocean and skies of Hawaii, but it is where they can grow. The mother can teach her baby how to handle storms and avoid predators and they can look out for the other animals that live around them. And then the cycle can begin again with the next generation.

I know I have had lovely times where I seem to visibly recognize the hand of God directing the symphony of my life, but most of the time, stuff seems really normal and hard.

It is comforting to know that the ways God cares for us is directly reflected in the systems he has set in place in nature and that the more I learn about His creation, the more I will understand how he is working in my life. Let us all be reminded to draw on the inspiration gained on the mountaintop and keep up the hard mud-slogging work of living out life in the valley, because that can be really beautiful too.

.

On being haole

2016-11-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

I think each and every human being on earth has had a joke made at our expense, especially during childhood. Maybe some kid pulled out the chair from under you in second grade, and you fell flat on your tailbone in embarrassment. Maybe that kid you had a crush on in the fifth grade took a look at your teeth and declared you to be buck toothed. (yes, these examples are loosely based on my own experiences.) Maybe your kids have experienced the same. That's the meanness of kids, and we work hard as parents to teach our kids to take the high road and never want to be the parent of the bully.

Have you ever had someone take a look at you, and not see just you, but an entire group of people.... not just that group, but a caricature of that group, or a generalization based on their personal idea of that group? Again, I'm sure most of us have. As a Christian, I have had many people deride conservative Christians, and look point blank at me and say, "but not you." But that's not the generalization that struck deepest.

I was born in American Samoa, the tow-headed daughter of Indiana born and raised caucasian parents. We moved to Hawaii when I was still a baby, so it has always been my other home, even though I've now lived in the mainland just as long as I lived there. I was so blonde that tourists from Japan asked to take my picture and my parents saved a copy of National Geographic with a nordic girl on the cover who looked just like me. I'm as white as it gets.

I was raised in a nurturing family on the West Side of O'ahu. My dad was an elementary school teacher on the Waianae coast and my mom worked in Honolulu as a legal secretary. I was also very dorky. I had bunny rabbit teeth and most of the kids at school called me teacher's pet because I liked to get my work done, and sometimes the teacher used it as an example. I was also very shy. Kids regularly called me buck tooth, and haole, and many wanted to know when I was going back to the mainland. I ended up gravitating toward mainland kids, because they were nice to me, but they always moved away. And there I was.

I had the honor of having a part in the annual May day pageant showing the prince and princesses of each the Hawaiian Islands. I was cast as a missionary. I only began to wonder recently if people looked at me in a negative light as walked up beaming with one of the few other white kids in the school. Hawaii was united in 1795 under a Hawaiian king--Kamehameha, shortly after the first Europeans happened upon the islands. In the meanwhile, the Hawaiian population was decimated by foreign diseases they had no immunity to. American missionaries came to share the Christian faith with the people of Hawaii. Tragically, their children turned from their mission of service and became involved in an overthrow of the monarchy in 1893. Native Hawaiians were relegated to areas that were less profitable and foreigners took the other land for plantations and business areas. In 1959, after much fear of invasion by various countries, Hawaii became the 50th state of the Union.

So when one looks back objectively, one can see that of course there would be mistrust of white people. Even today, the wealthiest areas of the islands tend to be dominated by non-native people. But you cannot explain this to a shy young child, that a tumultuous and tragic 200 year history with people of European descent may be the reason she feels ostracized. In fact, the very kids who made the flippant remarks to me based upon my skin most likely did not think much about why they had a disdain for people who looked like me. It was likely something they overheard that may have been based in very real and painful experiences endured by their family members and friends. "Haole" is a Hawaiian word that merely refers to the fact that someone is different than you and may come from another land. Over time, it became a negative, a way to bottle up the anger at injustices endured, and was perpetuated. I don't think it was ok that people use the word in this way, but I do completely understand it.

The difference between the word "haole" and the kinds of language tossed around by people in the mainland in reference to African Americans, Hispanics, Native Americans, Asians, people who are gay, etc, is that it refers to a person in the position of power. Although our country was founded on premises of freedom, the undercurrent of imperialism and domination over other cultures and peoples has in recent years again risen to the surface and must be acknowledged, whether we personally perpetuate it or not. Indeed, if we do not acknowledge it, we take part in its continuing.

I'm reminded of a 1997 song by the Indigo Girls:

"Let's go road block trippin in the
middle of the night up in Gainesville town
There'll be blue lights flashing down the long dirt road when they ask me to step out
They say we be looking for illegal immigrants can we check your car
I say you know it's funny I think we were on the same boat back in 1694
I said oo la la
shame on you"

The original european settlers who came to the americas were looking for freedom and a fresh start. Many came as indentured servants who worked their way to freedom. Eventually, the human penchant for greed overtook many people in power and the millions of Native Americans who were already here were treated as less than human in order that the kind of treatment they endured could be justified. The same occurred when slaves were brought from Africa. The same happened as manifest destiny was carried out and the USA pushed its way across the continent and into surrounding oceans. The USA was populated with immigrants, some of whom in turn proceeded to suppress for others the very freedoms they were seeking. Even though the USA no longer continues to expand, we can see in our trade policy, that corporations do not have qualms about taking advantage of impoverished peoples in order to make products for the least cost possible to consumers. In the same way, undocumented workers and other migrants do the labor jobs that we do not want to do in the farm and service industries, and they are often treated as an annoyance.

How did this happen? How can you look at a young mother and tell her that she must give up her son for sale? How do you tell another young mother that she must leave her home walk with her children 1,200 miles on foot to territory you have allocated for her? How can we ask people to work 18 hours in a factory to build something that is made to break the first day we use it? How can we be so concerned about healthy living and then ask farm workers to be subject to toxic levels of pesticides?

It happens when we remove ourselves from the consequences of our actions by allowing politicians and corporations to do the dirty work. It happens when in passing, a comment is made about "those immigrants who just want to live on welfare" and no one taking a moment to check that argument. It happens when people say they are offended by the gay agenda or black lives matter movement. It happens when we look at a mass exodus of human beings from repressive government and do not take them into the safety of our land. It happens when we look at a woman seeking a position of leadership and see her as weak or out of place, and instead choose a man, and it likewise happens when in popular culture we portray men as bumbling and hormone driven.

So if that's how it happens, how does it end? It ends when we become involved in local politics, from the school district, to the city, the state and beyond. It happens when we do not understand a group of people and take the time to research the history of that group, and why they may feel so angry, fearful or misunderstood. It happens when we choose to end the cycle of history by remembering things that happened in times before our great grandparents and vow to fight against them happening again. It happens when we vote with our dollars, by being aware of what kind of working conditions they support. It happens when we remember that our children go to school with immigrants and we have family members and friends who are part of the LGBTQ community and when we demand kind and understanding treatment of those people around us. It happens when women and men partner in leadership, honoring one another in their strengths, and complementing one another in their weaknesses.

It happens when we really see our African American friends, who are likely descended from people who only 150 years ago were traded as property, and fight our hardest so that not one of their grandchildren is ordered to "go back to Africa." It happens when we set aside fears and allow refugees to live among us, and when we smile into the eyes of a person wearing middle eastern dress. It happens when we stand with the first peoples of the lands our country represents and say that we see them, that we hear them and we support them when they say they want to look after the land we live in. It happens when we live what Genesis 2:15 says: "The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.

For those who are Christians, the command is clear, but the ideas extends to people of all religious or non-religious persuasions:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 And Jesus replied to him, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself [that is, unselfishly seek the best or higher good for others].’ 40 The whole Law and the [writings of the] Prophets depend on these two commandments.”

Every year, our local schools do an anonymous "healthy youth survey." It attempts to understand how our youth make the the choice between healthy and unhealthy living. One of the most profound things I learned by looking through the statistics was that children are more likely to engage in destructive behaviors if they believe society condones them, and most especially if they believe their parents approve of them. So this is how we change society: by how we ourselves live and interact with one another. Our children are watching. There's a reason for that Bible verse that says "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." Our kids aren't going to be little clones of us, but their lives will in many ways reflect the many every day interactions they witness.

On the eve of the election, I was talking with a friend, and she was wrestling with how we live in the fallout of this toxic election cycle. She mentioned that simple little reminder that many of us churchy types learned as kids: What would Jesus do? Jesus related to people in stories and questions. He was stern and clear in His words, and rarely became physically angry, except in the case of the money changers in the temple. He helped everyone he could and lived by example. He ate with those others considered deplorable. He touched those others considered to be dirty. He pointed out hypocrisy but lived in humility.

As I have been wrestling over the past week with how I personally as a mom, a wife and a citizen should respond to the current political situation, I am reminded, as many others are too, that I must begin in my own home. In my home, my children should be above reproach in the way they speak of others. They should treat their family and extended family with honor. I should treat them in turn with respect and take time to listen to their fears, frustrations and concerns, and I should also take the time to explain why certain levels of respect and honor are due to others. In the ways I speak of my neighbors and even those I am frustrated with, I should be careful to avoid assumption and generalization, and instead I should extend grace, forgiveness and love. I should live by example in my community and circle of friends, and I should step out of those areas to understand others better.

Mostly, I want to, as a haole, use my position of power I did not earn as a force for good. I want to work toward a world in which white is not synonymous with all kinds of pejoratives but instead with love and kindness. I want to work toward a world where no child is asked to go home or called a racial slur. I am thankful for the painful experiences I had in the early elementary school years, because they helped me to see the pain that exists when people are treated as less than equal.
I am thankful for all the love and Aloha I felt in Hawaii as I headed into my upper elementary and middle school years. As I grew older, it was very rare to encounter racial generalization and mainly all I experienced was love. It is this kind of love that I want to extend in my life, and it is this kind of love that I hopes spreads contagiously through my home, our town, our country and the world. Let's live in love.

What if we don't all need to be elite?

2015-10-25T22:45:00.000-07:00

I'm entering the frustrating and exhilarating world of youth sports rather reluctantly and a bit late in the game it seems. I've got two boys; middle school and early high school aged. We live in a small town where sports are big. Kids start playing tackle football in their early elementary years and are doing all the other sports from kindergarten on. If sports is not what you do from the cradle, it seems, whenever you decide to jump in, you already feel behind, especially if your parents are like me. My entire experience in the athletics world consists of 2 seasons of middle school volleyball on the C team and being mildly obsessed with running 6 years ago.

My boys are hard wired for athletics. Their grandpa and dad and cousins were all avid athletes in school, and it turns out that when they hit their middle school years, sports became all they could talk about too. No longer could I play the "I don't want to be cold" mama card. I had to let them play some sports: yes, even if they were out of doors and I had to plan appropriate clothing, I had to dive in right alongside them and learn what a girdle was, and whether a jock strap was actually necessary.

Thankfully, a dear friend of mine has some kids who are equally sport obsessed, and she has been my sports doula of sorts. A doula is a person who helps a woman in childbirth. It's a bit like that entering the sports and teen parenting world, and she and a few other core moms in my life have helped me to retain my sanity while allowing me to grill them on what's normal and what's expected. I even have texted directly with her son, a senior in high school, and then bragged to some acquaintances that I was "texting all the senior athletes" for advice. I neglected to say that I was actually texting all the senior athletes I actually knew, which was one, and my daughter, who's a junior, called my bluff on that one.

I remember my eldest boy decided to play basketball for a boys and girls club team back in 4th or 5th grade, and I thought that was pretty awesome, having come from a Hoosier family and all, and him being tall, that it would be a fun and exciting experience all around. I was in for a shock: somehow all the children were supposed to be NBA level, and if they were not, well, they just wouldn't ever get the ball. It was an odd experience, especially since only a small minority of the children had even hit puberty, and last I remembered, you needed to be an adult to be a professional basketball player. There were parents filming and yelling at kids and the meanest kid on the team was the star player and therefore was the one who carried the ball. We didn't do basketball again for a while.

We had a brief stint with baseball, but found the games too boring and cold (well, I did), and then we left the sports scene all together and did some Taekwondo. Positive attitude, respect for self and others, hard work and athleticism were core to it, and though the kids didn't ever go knock down some bad guys attacking them in the alley, I did see their stature rise a bit. They looked people in the eye and made new friends, listened with respect to their instructor and had fun. So what was the difference?

As I emerge from my first season of tackle football for my boys, I am beginning to understand. If instead of worrying about being the best, we notice what we have learned, how much we have improved, and how much fun we had, we will find so much more joy in athletics, and really any other aspect of life.

Being highly skilled in athletics, academics, music, or any other vocation is worthy of high esteem. When I mastered the manual settings on my camera, I was proud, and it took hard work to get there. Likewise, if my boy makes a good tackle after practicing hard for hours on end, he should be well satisfied in his good work.

There's a word for the select sports teams called "elite" and it's not my favorite, because it tacitly implies that there is another class to the sports world, and that you may never be able to break through that glass ceiling. Kids start to believe that somehow it is an embarrassment to play sports if you do not play on an elite team or a high school JV or Varsity team, or if you have not played a sport your entire life. Thankfully, my kids have debunked this myth and have experienced some of the same joys in conventional sports (especially this football season) that they enjoyed in their Taekwondo class, but they have not done it without some reservations.

This is where we need to encourage change in the culture of childhood: instead of pushing our children to be elite, let us encourage them to enjoy what they do, to work hard at it, and to take great satisfaction in that work. I think we'll have fewer sports "dropouts," higher caliber sports teams, and much happier kids.

A Freshly Mopped Floor

2015-10-23T15:37:00.002-07:00

Here's a poem I wrote a while ago about the joys of a freshly mopped floor.

A freshly mopped floor

Pearl finish
like
new sheets;
a warm eggshell.

Infinite nerve ends
rest.

New beginnings;
peace and clarity.

Optimism and plans;
satisfaction.

Cool refreshment;
a gentle embrace.

Grounding.

The kindness of a
stone
removed from a shoe.

The relief of
standing
in the rush
of a cool stream.

Ay, a scratch

2014-06-08T18:15:00.001-07:00

"Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis enough." --Mercutio, in Romeo and Juliet

Friday afternoon the weekend loomed glorious in my mind. I had finished my day's work and was outside doing a little weeding before heading inside to make dinner and launch into the sunny days ahead. Distracted by the billions of forget-me-nots that had sprung up like weeds, I didn't see a very sharp twig of my lilac bush, which proceeded to jab me in the eye, as if to poke fun at all the plans I had ahead. I had actually done this to myself before, and thought I could breathe through it, sort of like going through childbirth or something.

An hour later there was still the same excrutiating pain and I realized maybe I should try to fix it, because, after all, I'm a photographer, and I had a maternity session scheduled for the next day, and a newborn session to finish editing and to deliver. I was shocked by the gravity with which the doctors took my statement that I had a scratched cornea (the cornea is that clear, jelly like part in front of the iris of your eye), and realized that it probably wasn't an easy fix with a little ibuprofen and ointment.

When the ophthamologist saw me, he gave me some numbing drops as he examined the two scratches to my cornea. They made me feel completely normal, but he told me that when they wore off in fifteen minutes, I'd have to tough out the pain.

Numbing the pain, he said, hinders the healing.

How accurate, and how painfully true I found this to be over the next 24 hours. I agreed with a friend who had experienced the same that going through labor a million times would be infinitely more pleasant than a scratched cornea. I began to realize how weak and needy I really am when my vision and connection to light was warped and became physically painful.

As I tossed and turned for the rest of the afternoon, all night, and into the next day, miserably trying to conjur up ways to relieve the pain, I began to consider all of my friends and family who live in chronic pain, whether physically or mentally. I thought of the friend who rode to school with me each day as a teen, the most cheerful and positive person I knew, who later told me that every single day she lived with migraines. I thought of my husband's good friend, who after unsuccessful surgery to his sinuses, lives in daily pain, and yet is probably one of the most peaceful and easy going people you will ever meet. I thought of my friends, two sisters, who live daily with gastrointestinal issues that would defeat me. I thought of my dad and a friend, both of whom wake each morning, not knowing whether their emotional state is secure enough to stand the rigors of the day ahead.

I thought of the panic I felt, unable to fix the pain I was in, and knowing I had to endure. I thought of the fear of losing the sharpness to my vision and thereby losing my photography. And I realized that these friends of mine experience these same feelings each day. I can understand now more deeply how so many in our culture are driven to the drink or to other means of numbing pain. There is the feeling that one would do anything to escape the frantic scrambling and clawing around in the darkness of pain or loneliness and the shocking exposure to light and truth.

I can understand this, but what mystifies me and drives me to the throne of God is the way my friends in all their anguish, have rejected that tempation. Even as they accept the necessary medications for their conditions, there is the day to day struggle they must fight.

They could choose to numb all of their pain, but they know inside that it will not help them heal.
Instead, in their desperation, even weary as they must be, they carry a faith and a hope that gives them strength to survive, to endure and to press on.

Because my eye was allowed to run its natural course of healing, the nerve endings of my eye are once again cushioned by new cells, and by the time 24 hours had passed, I could blink without wincing. The pain is now greatly eased, though the shock of contrast between brightness and dark hurts. As I leave this small trial behind, I do not want to forget this small glimpse into the wonder of the strength of humanity bolstered by the unwavering strength of God. I want to be reminded that all around me are people enduring the kind of frantic anguish I felt, and that there is hope to be shared, and I want to help others to notice those around them enduring daily trials just like my friends.

As you go about your life this week, take extra time with me to think about and consider the quiet strength or even desperation that lies just below the surface of what may seem to be just a scratch. Will you remember with me to embrace those people with compassion and love? By caring for someone in the midst of their struggles and walking beside them as they endure, we might get to be a part of the beautiful process of growing and healing.

For Oso

2014-03-28T10:06:00.001-07:00

Osoberry is one of the very first wild plants to leaf out and bloom here in the Maritime Northwest. It's in full bloom right now. The flowers are an important early nectar source for hummingbirds and native bees when nothing else is in bloom. It produces a bitter fruit that feeds wild mammals, including the bear, (thus the name Osoberry) Seeing and smelling the blossoms of this plant everywhere right now is a constant reminder to me to pray for Oso, to pray for hope and new life where there seems only to be devastation.

I'm not even one of the people directly affected by the tragic landslide in Oso, but still there is nothing that can prepare you for the sight of FEMA and emergency shelters at local schools, crossing paths with a red cross truck on the morning drop off, seeing a truck with "department of homeland security" emblazoned upon it in your City Hall, knowing people who are searching out there, seeing six news trucks with satellite dishes like vultures along the river, seeing another news truck at a horse barn nearby, seeing flags at half mast and knowing it's for your community, hearing ages of children who died and being slammed with the reality that you have children the same age, seeing the detour sign for Darrington, watching your town fire chief get into his car in town and realize you know him from the news briefings, realizing that the place you go to buy jojos for your son is a main shopping store for the people of Oso, remembering living out that way and how beautiful it is out there, hearing heartbreaking stories from dear friends and realizing that everyone you know is affected in one way or another by the tragedy of it all.

There is no reason or sense to be made of any of it, but there is this hope we hold inside that won't leave us. There can never be a good reason that babies and grandmas and daddies die suddenly, but we can be sure that God is walking with each person in our community and we can have the hope that there will be small bits of beauty to emerge from the ashes of this devastation.

We already see it in the community and the way teens stand in the rain selling stickers that say "4 Oso, " the way a child wants to contribute what little they have to provide comfort for others, the way every where you turn someone is helping and the way when someone is crying for what feels like no reason, that someone, no matter whether you've never hugged before, you are hugging them now.

What our family gets out of the Affordable Care Act

2013-12-18T17:16:00.001-08:00

Today I thought I'd try to check out other plans on #WaHealthplanfinder.com because I talked to my current health insurance company and found the new plan I'll have to go on to be unsatisfactory. They told me I might want to check out the government website to see if something else might work better for us. The pictures above are screen shots of what I got when i tried to log into their website.

I called my insurance plan and asked for comparisons between the new government mandated plan and the old plan I had. I had and HSA Catastrophic 4000 plan with Group Health at $691 per month and will be required to buy the ACA Bronze plan at $802.58 per month. My family deductible under the new plan has doubled from $4000 to $8000. My out of pocket limit has gone up from 12,100 to 12,700. We have 5 children.

For the additional $111.58 per month, and $4000 per year in deductible and $600 in out of pocket expenses, here's what I get.

1) Maternity care. No more babies here. Sorry.

2) Prescription drug coverage...yay! Wait, no, only after you pay the $8000 deductible

3) Annual Pediatric dental exams.--this is actually nice. We pay for a separate plan through Washington Dental Service, which means we can bill this plan for the annual exams and "save" a little bit....if they cover our dentist.

4) Annual Pediatric vision exams and one pair of glasses....this is very awesome because I have one kid who wears glasses. Not sure if it covers contacts. We can transfer that cost over to what we pay for this plan.

That's about it. What are you getting out of the ACA?

Microchip Jungle

2013-12-13T20:47:00.003-08:00

Through the strange phenomenon of noise canceling headphones, earbuds and pbskids.org, I sometimes find myself in a house filled with both people and silence at the same time. I wrote this after reading some Wendell Berry poetry from his Timbered Choir seried of poems. He says at the beginning of the book that it is good to read the series of poems in a quiet place, like the woods where they were written. And yet tonight I stood in the center of my kitchen surrounded, but very much in solitude.

***

I am
immersed in
the quiet noise,
the microchip
jungle.

My cabinets,
the trees.
kitchen view,
my escape.

yet there...

peaceful,
standing
at the center
of my hearth.

I find
stillness of
thought--
a beginning of
understanding.

Glass gems.

2013-10-17T22:05:00.002-07:00

My friend began our visit together today by reading me this poem. I think any visit with a friend that is prefaced by poetry reading is bound to be good. And it was.

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

This poem...I had never heard it before, and yet it resonated with the chord my heart was playing just last night. I could feel the despair setting in...had I released my children into this world too soon? We home-schooled exclusively for nine years. Last year, the two eldest children went off to middle school, and this year our ten year old is in a local elementary school. Just the youngest girls remain at home for the day with me.

The past two years have been punctuated by times of deep mourning for the times we had all together. It feels like my family is split into tiny pieces throughout the day. Sometimes my heart can't bear the feeling of being in so many places at once and I crumble inside.

And yet this time has also been permeated by a deep sense of peace; an understanding that only comes from resting in the truth that my children are cared for and loved... not just by me, but by God, family, friends, neighbors, teachers, 4H leaders, sunday school teachers, mentors. The ripples just keep going wider and wider. I was not given these children to clutch tightly to me like a baby's blanket. I am not meant to hide them in a fortress or stubbornly cling to my need to provide, even as I am depleted and weary.

Have I prepared them well enough? Can one ever really be prepared enough for anything? Maybe equipped is a better word. A bird does not prepare himself for the day ahead, worrying about where he will find this worm or whether the raindrops will hinder his flight. Instead, he is diligent as he searches for food he does not doubt he will find and is confident in the downy fluff that keeps him dry and warm. This kind of confidence is what I have seen growing inside my children as they move out of the comforts of our home into the unpredictability of life.

And so today, as I sat with my friends, drank coffee, talked about children and homeschooling and our youth and the state of the world in general... as I stood with them and husked the most beautiful corn I have ever seen...I rested.

I rested in the same grace that Wendell Berry must have felt as he lay there near the water. We marveled together at each individual kernel of this rare heirloom variety of corn known as "Glass Gem." We noticed the spot on each kernel where the silk had been. It reminded me a bit of a child's belly button!

There were ears as blue as a pair of Levi jeans, and others more beautiful than the most brilliant rocks found along the shores of the Sound. Each kernel glowed with a potential and hope that inspired thankfulness in my heart for a Creator who cares enough to make light and color, texture and taste, and a capacity within us all to love all of it.

And I knew that my heart might not feel any different. It will occasionally feel defeated, lonely and despairing as life changes around me and my children walk their various paths in life. More often though, it will beat steadily within as I move forward in the faith it takes daily to get out of bed and do the day's duties. And sometimes it will occasionally skip a beat with the kind of joy, wonder and anticipation a beautiful little glass gem seed can inspire as I see them reach the potential I saw gleaming in their eyes as toddlers. This means that I can sit beside my husband, nestling my head into his shoulder at the end of each day and have true peace.

Daddios

2013-06-15T22:00:00.001-07:00

It had been thirteen years since my last trip to see family in Indiana. At that time, I had only one child. Four children later, and with my grandpa around 87 years old, I realized it was about time I got out there and reconnected with everyone. Thankfully, my parents were going too, so we ended up having two family reunions.

We stayed with my grandpa and his sweet wife, Fran. They were so gracious to let us invade their peaceful lives with our intensely chaotic visiting and touring around. That couch grandpa and Dad are sitting on was my bed! It was an emotional time for me too, because my grandma had passed away suddenly just a few months after my last visit.

To see my grandpa's face... to hear his voice as he talked with my dad about just anything that came to their minds...this made my heart very happy, and the sadness at grandma's absence lessened some. I had been so frantic to soak up every bit of family history that was in that place, but soon I realized that I simply needed to relax in the joyful reality of this father and son reunion I was witnessing.

It was in this moment that I remembered the deep blessing it is to have a dad and grandpa who have a special connection with one another, and in turn with me. Thank you dad and grandpa, and happy father's day. Your example of faithfulness to your families reminds me in turn of God's faithfulness to all of us.

Small joys

2013-05-25T19:19:00.000-07:00

This is one of the small joys in life: sitting in the passenger seat. My husband was driving us into town on a road I always drive, but this time I finally was able to take a picture of the cottonwood tree I always admire. It is beautiful without leaves in the winter, and when the salmon are running we have seen countless eagles in it. I have seen its silhouette against many sunsets. Yesterday it was just these beautiful clouds that caught my attention. Right now, the fluffy cotton like seeds of the cottonwood are blowing everywhere, and it's like snow in spring time and every place around them looks a little bit magical. Of course, if you're a child, you must gather big handfuls up, take a deep breath send them back into the breeze.

The biggest bigleaf maple

2013-05-19T09:17:00.001-07:00

We recently visited a farm that happens to be the home of the biggest Bigleaf Maple in the nation. This tree is 433 feet in circumference, 90 feet high and has a crown spread of 109 feet and is completely impressive. I am thankful that we got to see it in all its living glory.

My little lamb visiting the lambs at the farm.

For scale. That's my 9 year old on the right.

What I love

2013-05-16T23:57:00.001-07:00

This is how I want to remind myself to be: looking up and all around me. It's easy to forget to do this simple act of noticing, but it is so renewing.

Spring: it's a time of frenzied work and preparations. Everything ends and begins all at once; responsibilities and opportunities overlap. School is drawing to a close, baby animals are being born, baby plants are growing deep roots, weeds are rising exponentially taller each day.

Always, at this time of year, I find that the things I love can begin to wear me thin. There are so many commitments, experiments, people and experiences to immerse ourselves in, that I find myself frozen in the midst of them, standing immobile next to a several-foot-high pile of laundry.

How can I say no to the opportunity to have small animals for my children to care for, making them friendly through twice daily bottle feeding? Can the garden go unplanted? And what of the budding photography business? It is not easy to turn people away when photography is so dear to my heart.

And so dinner is ready at 8:30 and I pray with friends in the midst of a living room sprinkled with dog hair. Is your life like this? I know I am not alone, and that is what helps me to persevere. I know in one friend's house, there is an artist-child like mine, who leaves trails of paper and un-capped markers in her wake. In a different friend's home, there is another preteen boy saying the same words that make a mom's heart tired. Still another friend has 4 more baby goats to feed than I and another has a garden that beckons to her as she walks away to do other work that must be done.

I cannot see how to remove myself from many of the commitments I have made, though I will remind myself from time to time, that indeed, I am not "every woman." Thus, I do not need to do every thing. Instead of being stuck in the icy world of self doubt and pity though, I am learning to be sure to notice the things around me that I love. These are things that are intertwined with my busy life and commitments, and are reminders that I do not have to be fully exhausted and tired. There are moments I can linger in for just a bit, taking a bit of time to treasure them and to be renewed and thankful.

I am sure you have a running list like this, though you may not realize it. It is my intention to notice not just things that would make beautiful photography, but moments, and the way things are at the very moment I am in.

I love....
... the way tiny droplets of water gather evenly all around the edges of a baby cabbage plant in the cool of the dusk.
...how raindrops puddle on the leaf of a lupine.
...the sound of geese flying by in the evening
...milking a goat by the light of the stars
...the way clouds pile up higher than the mountains they sit upon
...seeing my children peacefully playing together
...having my oldest kids sit next to me just to talk
...being given flowers all day long
...the way a lupine flower curves when resting in a plastic cup
...smelling lilacs in gardens everywhere and especially in my kitchen
...finding worms busily working as i plant a pepper plant
...the way a baby goat will use a person as their own personal playground
...how the crescent moon shines through the willow and cottonwood trees at dusk
...the feeling of the breeze sweeping around the corner of my house, trying to push my hat off
...the swing of my 7 year old's pony tail as she walks a horse into a barn
...finding my son has climbed to the top of an outbuilding or the middle of a tree
...watching my daughter sit on the swing with a baby goat
...the click of the shutter of a camera
...the green glow of a light on a tomato plant start at ten o clock at night
...my husband's dimples and five o'clock shadow
...holding a tiny hand in mine when walking down the steps to the garden
...the glow of the sunset on the clouds to the east
...the cottonwood tree on the way into town that I always think I should take a picture of and which will probably cause me to crash one day if I am not careful.

These are some things I love today.

What things do you love?

The significance of a life

2013-05-04T23:57:00.002-07:00

I love this place. It is near the water and there are hills. When I lived nearby, I ran here weekly. It was the place that I could always count on for God to show me something new. Sometimes it was a thought or idea. Other times it was some beautiful bit of nature, like a great blue heron or an eagle. Still other times it was an overwhelming sense of calm and peace.

Today, I attended a women's retreat here as I do every year, and did my annual run on the dike. I had read in the Bible the story of Jacob's dream when he dreamed of a stairway to heaven. God told him that through him all the nations of the world would be blessed, and that He would always watch over Jacob. Jacob awakes and declares that this spot is holy and is the very gate of heaven. He sets up a pillar in that spot to show the sacredness of that place.

Genesis 28:20, "Then Jacob made a vow, saying "if God will be with me and will watch over me on the journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father's house, then the Lord will be my God and this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God's house and of all that you give me, I will give you a tenth."

I'm not great at analyzing the Bible, but what struck me here is that Jacob is not only thankful and acknowledges the blessing that is coming to him; he is also honoring God in obedience by giving back to God 1/10th of what He has entrusted Jacob with. Jacob erects a pillar, like an outward sign of recognition of the holiness of God and the blessings He gives.

I began to think about my life. If I am to set up a pillar in my own life, thanking God for the places He has met me and my family, what might it look like? Would it be a prayer out loud? Or outright exclamation at the beauty of God's creation? Maybe the pillar can look like humbleness and a hand that points toward God and all He has done. I can give 1/10th of my monetary earnings, but what else can I give? It sounds so small. Why should I be allowed to keep 9/10ths all to myself? What will I do with that remainder?

What places are like pillars in your life? Where are your gateways to heaven and God's great blessing and presence in your life?

My run on the dike mingled with my thoughts about Jacob's story. I sat out on the roots of this massive, fallen tree and thought of it just as that...a tree that still had much life to give, and I was inspired to write. So I scribbled out a poem about these thoughts, and I share it below.

*****

Do you see this
tree?
this log
this tree?

When a human is dead
it is a body buried in the ground, rotten and gone,
soul with Christ,
a rock as a memory.

When a tree dies,
and remains,
somehow that shell
lives.
It points to the majesty
and heights it once
touched.

It feeds and
shelters
new creatures.
Just as when my
soul moves on
my words
my deeds
this pillar of
my life
will lead eyes somewhere.

Was my life a shelter,
a home,
a way of nourishing?
Did it
say Yes!
there is more?
There is an
infinite God
who cares about
ants and
ferns
and small
very loud birds.

Did this pillar stand
humbly in the
holy place
of God's creation
in gratitude
and
solemn
joy,
Holding very dearly
the responsibility
that comes
when one
has been
trusted with
Nine-tenths?

How I make White and Whole Wheat Sourdough Bread

2013-04-11T22:49:00.002-07:00

Whole wheat bread, ready to go into the oven. I said I'd never use Instagram pics on my blog, but I just don't have time at this time of year to do anything else!

People have asked how I make sourdough bread, specifically how I make a wheat version of Northwest Sourdough's basic white sourdough recipe. I have simplified it for my distracted brain and incorporated some of what I learned when I used the Artisan Bread in 5 minutes a Day method of baking. I use the Northwest Sourdough recipe, and for wheat bread I change the amount of flour to about 6 cups. I use only white flour for my starter because I don't know how wheat will do.

I keep my starter in my refrigerator in a loosely covered container. I didn't feed or use it for several months over the winter and when I wanted to use it this spring it was a bit lazy, but after feeding one time, it worked beautifully. Ask around to see if anyone you know has a starter. Otherwise, you can buy some at the Northwest sourdough website, or you can make your own.

A finished whole wheat loaf of sourdough bread.

So here's how I make: White or Whole Wheat Sourdough Bread

I activate the starter the night before by adding flour and water each in double the amount of the starter. I usually activate 1 cup of starter so I have extra. This means that I always mix together 1 cup starter with 2 c. water and 2 c. white flour. It will immediately get bubbly. Cover it and let it do its thing overnight. Every time I bake, I store what is left after I use my activated starter back in the fridge.

The next day, mix 2 c. activated starter, 1 3/4 water, 1 T oil and 7 c. (or 6c. if you are doing whole wheat) flour together. Put it in your mixer bowl, with the kneading hook, cover with a damp cloth and go away. Walk by it 2 or three times in the day, uncover and run the mixer a few rounds. At the 2nd mixing, I add in about 1-2 tsp. salt.

*** Today I actually let my starter get all foamy and didn't use it until about 1:30 or something, and made a delicious pair of loaves late this evening. They were white flour loaves. This is just to say that you don't have to throw your dough or starter out if you forget it. Try it out and see what happens!

After the third rising, dust your cutting board with cornmeal. Shape the dough into boule loaves. (These are the round or oval loaves, shaped by tucking the dough underneath until it looks all cute and puffy) Dust with flour and set on the cutting board. Cover with some sort of vapor barrier (plastic, a pan, whatever) Let them rise a bit. Northwest Sourdough talks about how to tell if they've risen enough.

Heat the oven to 450 with your baking stones and broiler pan in there. Uncover the loaves. Slice the top of the loaves 4 times, the center cut being deepest so the loaves don't get gooey inside.

Open the oven. Plop the loaves on the baking stones. Grab about a cup of water, pour it quickly into your hot broiler pan, which is on the rack below the baking stones. It will steam the loaves. Close the oven door quickly. Bake the loaves 20-25 minutes at 450, then turn down to 425 and bake about 15-20 minutes more. The bread should be golden brown and sound hollow when you tap it. I am not a bread expert, so I sometimes turn the bread upside down and cut into the center to see that it has cooked all the way through!

Eat it when it's hot and really hard to slice, but especially delicious.

The End.

Some white sourdough that I let rise maybe a bit too much, but it was so crusty and light and good, I think it was ok.