Be

From the time I was about 10 our family spent an extended weekend every summer with three other families at a cabin up at Lake of the Woods.  Lakes are my favorite body of water.  For some it’s rivers, most people love the ocean, but for me there is nothing like the calm quiet of a beautiful lake.  My favorite moments weren’t when we would go inter tubing or swimming because obviously there are creatures in the depths of lakes waiting to eat me.  Bonfires at night were special cause you could always see a beautiful sunset followed by an explosion of stars that popped out against the blueish-black sky - but again, not my favorite times.  The time that brought the most contentment to my young soul was the morning.  

Lake mornings are almost surreal.  If you get out of the cabin and down on a dock before the morning water-skiers try to take advantage of the glassy surface, it’s a palpable sense of calm.  You can hear everything and nothing simultaneously.  I felt so small in comparison to the vast stretch of water before me and the huge forest covered mountains stretching up behind.  It was just me and nature, Him and I, existing in our solitude of togetherness.  Magic.

Fast forward 25 years and life doesn’t have those moments as often.  Yes, there are times of pause and reflection, but they are few and far between.  As time goes by, kids are added to the family, life becomes a flurry of multi-tasking.  Taking the kids to school, doing homework with them when they’re home, going to this practice and that playdate, nursing a newborn and holding her when she’s grumpy, grocery shopping, sweeping, doing dishes, taking out trash, working out - and in the midst finding time to connect with those that we love in a real way.  It’s hard.  

So this year, I’m hopefully expectant with my Word of the Year: be.  Not be more content, not be stronger, not be more kind, no - just be.  

My relationship with the Lord is always something that is at the forefront of my thoughts.  And I’ve come to realize that I do more studying, more praying and more worshipping than I do just spending time with Him.  Allowing His words, His actual voice, to move through me and stir my heart, mind and soul.  It’s an impossible thing to do with the TV on.  I can’t attempt it with kids jumping on my bed, or while rallying up on what the day holds with my husband.  I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to go back to that feeling of overwhelming quiet.  The lake effect.  

So I’m going to take time to just be with Jesus every day.  Twenty minutes.  Outside.  Rain or shine.  No Bible, no music, no talking.  Just being.  And I look forward to what He will speak and form and do.  

//

Luke 10:38-42 “Now as they were traveling along, Jesus went into a village.  A woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home.  She had a sister named Mary, who sat down at the Lord’s feet and kept listening to what He was saying.  But Martha was worrying about all the things she had to do, so she came to him and asked, “Lord, you do care that my sister has left to do the work all by myself, don’t you?  Then tell her to help me.”  The Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha! You worry and fuss about a lot of things.  But there’s only one thing you need.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it is not to be taken away from her.”

//

Ahhhh...

As I sit typing this I have a mug of coffee steaming to my left, my littlest little is napping in her bassinet in our bedroom, the two elder kids are at school, Ryan is out on the deck working on a project that involves a buzzsaw and wood, Christmas carols are playing - all really IS merry and bright. 

This last 6 months have been anything but what I’m experiencing right now though.  They’ve been cramped, uncomfortable, dirty, frustrating, loud, intrusive - and all by choice!  

About a year ago, Ryan and I made the decision that our little bungalow was where we wanted to live for as long as possible.  Being married nine years we’ve moved into about that many rentals, then three years ago we bought our first home and have lived and loved in it happily since.  But the 2 bedroom, 1 1/2 bathroom layout wasn’t going to work in the long run, so we were faced with two options: sell and move into something bigger or add on.  

“We can add on!  We just need another bedroom and bathroom, so how much time and money could that really be?”

Answer: a lot and all of it.  All the money and all the time.  

Our simple plans just kept getting more and more complex.  “Well, if we’re gonna go into the house and add on, then maybe we should make our kitchen a little bit bigger”.  “Yah…and if we’re gonna do that, then we should probably put on a little deck”.  “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.  It’d be cool if it was covered too so we could be out there year round”.  “That WOULD be nice”.  “You know what would also be nice?  What if we did kind of a bigger bathroom, you know with a walk in shower and walk in closet with stackable washer and dryer…that’d be cool”.  “That WOULD be cool.  You know what else would be cool?  One of those big hot tubs so we could relax in it with the kids”.  “Oooh, that sounds really nice”…etc.  

So fast forward to May and the ground started getting broken in, and then in July demo to the existing house happened.  

Oh, I forgot to mention that I got pregnant in January, so I was ripe with child when it was time to go from having a stove, sink, dishwasher and garbage disposal to using just a microwave and hand washing every dish in the basement sink.  Once the kitchen went away all things became more difficult.  Not just because I was getting bigger and more uncomfortable by the day, but because everything involving food now took additional steps.  No garbage disposal meant every single dish had to be wiped out BEFORE I actually washed it.  No kitchen counter meant that any meal prep was done on a small cutting board smashed between the coffee maker and toaster on a bar table in our dining room.  That dining room was also playing host to our refrigerator, dining room table and chairs and for the months of August and September, stacks and stacks of hardwood for the floor that had yet to be laid in the addition.  

Because Ryan was so involved in the remodel I was rocking parenting pretty much solo.  My kids are sweet and amazing, but they’re also 5 and 6, so they can be wretched.  And because of the magnetic force that apparently exudes from me, they were usually within 2 feet of my swollen, sweaty body.  And with me being so whale-like going out and about was difficult, plus with the summer heat I didn’t like being outside.  So inside it was.  For months.  With kids that don’t yet know how to read on their own or play board games without cheating or do chores really well or be together without vexing each other to the point that they yell the other’s name so loud or opt for their favorite way to fix any problem -  “MOOOOOM!!!!”.  

And as is the case with any kind of remodeling - there’s the dust.  The white, persistent, filmy layer that coats everything within 10 feet or so of the demo area heavily (which in our case was the dining room / kitchen) and then tapers off BUT STILL REMAINS as you get further away (living room aka our only living space).  I couldn’t escape it or clean it entirely.  Every time I would sweep the edges of the broom would swirl up a new cloud that would settle lightly on the swept lane.  Our area rug in the living room began to feel…coated.  Walking on it barefoot wasn’t an option only because the feeling of the cloth under my feet was grimy.  No vacuum could get it all up.  Shudder. 

As is the case with any cramped space, stuff just seems to surface.  Random stuff.  The kind that you don’t want to throw out, but you don’t use it either, so it’s storage, but not all permanent storage: t-ball equipment that isn’t necessary until spring, clothes that will be taken to Goodwill that need to be put in a bag until there’s enough to make a run down there, car seats that the kids have outgrown but that the baby will use in another year or so - all of those types of things suddenly are everywhere.  So as stacks of different items started appearing in our walkways, closet spaces, and corners the feeling of a comfortable, open home vanished.  It’s like I held my breath under water for almost too long to where vision got hazy and panic started to set in.  

But now.  

I've come up from the deep and had that first huge inhale, and it's filled my lungs and brought life to my body, mind and soul.  

All the things have been done.  The kitchen, new bedroom, new bathroom and new back deck have been completed.  There are no longer tools strewn all over our backyard, no longer stacks of broken wood, empty boxes, paint cans, and trash heaped up in our carport.  Gone are the various workers and their muddy boots tracking dirt and leaves through the front entry way, and gone are the seven different trucks that would occupy our driveway and parking spaces in front of our house.  The living room has stopped being a storage spot for all my kitchen gear, the kids art projects and supplies, Maggie’s stroller and car seat - it’s just a living space now.  The kid’s room has space for them to play now that their toys and books have been moved into the other upstairs bedroom.   

Every cabinet and drawer in the new, white kitchen has clean pots and pans occupying it.  All the dishes have been washed and sanitized in the dishwasher.  The couches and rug in the living room have been deep cleaned.  Clothes have all been moved into the proper closets.  The central air and heat is on and working - and I have to say that the warm air flowing through the vents and wrapping me up in what feels like a cozy cocoon might be my favorite addition of this whole remodel.   

Life can get back to normal.  Last night we were all in the kitchen together: Israel was at the desk doing homework on the computer, Charlie was at the island coloring, Ryan was holding Maggie and I was making dinner.  It was a magical moment.  

Sometimes the ins and outs of any given day can begin to feel monotonous and boring, but how blessed we are to have what we have.  To have family, a roof over our heads, to be able to do something like cook a meal for our kids, and use the convenience of dishwashers and stoves to help us out.  I hope I never again take for granted how wonderful it is to be a mom to my kids and a wife to my husband and to simply provide for them a home that is warm, inviting and safe.  God is so gracious with His perfect timing.  The fact that we are rolling into the most cozy and joyous time of year hasn’t been lost on me.  It’s like He was saying “Oh, Megan, I have a perfect plan for this whole thing.  You’re going to so enjoy all that you have worked for.  You will enjoy it x 1000.”  His Christmas present to me this year was the realization of how much I love what He has called me to do and be: a mom, a wife, a neighbor and a friend.  And for that I am so, so grateful.    

Two down, one to go

This week marks the beginning of my third trimester this pregnancy.  12 more weeks, 66% done, 2/3 out of the way…that might sound like it’s not too much longer but the end still feels so far.  

Cause truth be told pregnancy, at least for me, is rough.  Maybe because this is my third time around, maybe because I’m older, but whatever, this just isn’t my jam.  Charlie will be 5 at the end of this month, so it’s been exactly 5 years since my last pregnancy, and five years is a long time.  You forget a lot.  

Like food cravings, muscle cramps, endless, endless, endless trips to the bathroom all throughout the day and into the middle of the night and each of those trips involving extra time spent on the pot waiting for aaaaaaaall the pee to come out.  Cause it hides in there.  My bladder has developed reservoirs.  I had forgotten about swollen feet come late afternoon, trying to do dishes with a basketball sized lump under my shirt, carrying things up and down stairs incessantly, squatting over and over to pick up after my children because they they are SYSTEMATICALLY DESTROYING my house with their stuff everywhere, and top all of these off with the constant exhaustion, heartburn and the feeling of an alien moving around inside me.  Also, whatever temperature it is at any given moment, my internal temp feels at least 20 degrees hotter.  Thinking back to last November when I was sitting on my sister-in-law’s couch and we were jokingly talking about how much fun it would be to get pregnant and be able to enjoy each of our third pregnancies together - I step out into the 98 degree heat at 8:30 yesterday morning and say out loud - “yah…whaaaaat were we thinking”.  At night I have a fan pointed directly at me along with our a/c unit on full blast, I’m wearing next to nothing and covered by a sheet.  Poor Ryan’s under our comforter shivering.  

And, I was reminded this last week as to why I like to hibernate the last part of my pregnancy.  People’s comments, for the most part, suck.  Seeing a pregnant woman activates a vomit-like reflex in them and they CAN NOT HELP THEMSELVES but to comment, ask questions, touch, etc.  A gal said I looked pretty large for being only six months along and followed up asking if there was a possibility that I had multiples in there.  Where’s my straight eyes, straight mouth line emoji?  

And the emotional ups and downs are a new / familiar sensation.  Did you see that Ellen episode where Kristen Bell talked about the sloths?  She said something along the lines of being between a 4 and a 7 on an emotional scale at all times.  Any lower than a 4 and she’s crying and any higher than a 7 - same.  I’m right there with her.  Anything too sad or too sweet on TV, in a book, or in a newspaper article and I’m crying.  The Olympics are uniquely timed so all the feels happen with any given commercial about an athlete thanking their parents or pushing themselves with an iron type of will to be the best they can be - excuse me, I’ll be on my couch bawling.  Speaking of Olympics, that’s something every woman in their 7th month of pregnancy needs to see - female bodies at their physical peak of perfection.  Good times.     

Now, I really don’t want to sound like a pessimistic, whiny mom, and also don’t want to seem mentally unsteady by vacillating so widely with my emotions, but honestly as much as it’s difficult, and taxing and uncomfortable - it’s all so awesome.  I get to have another baby.  And I feel really, really lucky for that.  And there are some sweet bonuses to being pregnant.  In fact, most of the hard symptoms have a positive side.  Getting up to pee in the middle of the night - good training for feedings once the baby is here.  To step into that cold turkey would be rough.  Swollen feet?  Great excuse to relax on the couch and put them up.  Dishes getting tricky?  Sweet husband swoops in and helps out.  Extra trips up and down the stairs?  Toning those leg muscles…especially since they're the only ones I’m somewhat capable of controlling.  Messy rooms full of kids toys?  Let’s purge.  I’m reading Little House in the Big Woods to the kids and Laura grew up with a doll made out of a corn cob.  My kids have sufficient and could stand to get rid of some stuff.  Exhausted?  Nap.  Heartburn?  Tums.  Baby moving all around?  Marvel at the miracle.  Too hot out?  A/C.  

Also, the aforementioned sis-in-law is just one of my partners in this upcoming season.  Five girls, including her, that I know and love are right along with me, four being due a few weeks before me and one a couple months after.  Hearing and seeing and being on the same page as all of them has brought about a lot of peace.  Another advantage to time having gone by since my last pregnancy are the changes in maternity clothes, did you know they now have nursing tops?  Thank you, Trunk Club and Topshop.  I feel like people give me preference in random situations too.  EVERYONE opens doors for me, lets me go first, gives me kind smiles - I love it.  Those food cravings aren’t all bad, cause food tastes better - peaches last weekend at Saturday Market - YAAAAAAAAAS please.  And Rosie’s Inferno's pizza, thank you for existing.  Orange juice, dill pickles, mac & cheese, chilled watermelon, Honey Nut Cheerios with sliced bananas, the JD and Kung Fu roll at G street bar & grill, anything with lemon flavor, strawberry popsicles, Dr. Pepper, cheez-it crackers - all of the things.  I want all of them.  

And my highest, most wonderful, absolute favorite thing to focus on is the knowledge that with every Pampers commercial I watch, every scroll through old videos and pictures of my kids on my Instagram page, every night putting them down to sleep and feeling that twinge of gratitude and sadness at the same time - ALL these feelings cause me to look at the two that I’ve already ushered through solid foods, first steps, potty training, and learning the alphabet and I stop and praise the Lord that I have one more to go. 

Wonder. Do you have it?

Last year ruled.  In my list of 35 years on this planet, 2015 was an incredible one.  My relationship with the Lord is more tangible than before, my marriage has become a true partnership, my love of being a parent has deepened, my friendships are constantly becoming more honest and important to me, and physically I dropped some pounds and became even more capable of picking pounds up (bench is up to 100 lbs -  no big deal). 

Now staring at 2016 I sit back and think, “God…what would You have me to do this year”.  I love to have a Word of the Year and because I tend to be a thinker and dreamer, but a bit less of a doer I wanted a word to inspire and motivate me.  A couple words floated around in my mind but they were all too harsh: accomplish, execute, get your assss off the couch and go do something…

Then on a trip to Tahoe in December as I gazed out on hillsides saturated with heavily snowed-on trees and watched golden sunsets fall on a bright, beautiful lake I settled on a word that God breathed into my mind and heart: WONDER.  

There’s something easy and naive about that word.  It’s curiosity and adventure.  And I need that.  

I’m a stay-at-home mom and after five years of becoming more of a homebody than ever before with my two babes I really miss the world.  I miss the view of the valley from the top of Table Rock mountain.  I miss the smell of the Rogue River as I’m sitting on the bank watching my family skip rocks.  I miss the earthy smell of a forest hike, the salt and wind of the ocean and the beautiful, calm quiet that comes with fresh snow or a blacked out sky dancing with stars.  

And experiencing God…

Nothing, nothing, no church or sanctuary I’ve been in can compare to the beauty of God’s creation.  The moments I feel Him are more often than not when I’m outside, where I’m fully alive and human, and am experiencing the wonder of this planet in some way.  It’s sitting around a campfire, glancing up at stars, sipping spicy tea and laughing with friends.  Or standing on the shore of the ocean, looking at 30 different shades of blue, letting waves slowly creep up to circle around my ankles, smelling salt, feeling the wind and hearing that mesmerizing sound of wave after wave crash.  It’s gazing out as a peach sky frames in the mountains of the Applegate Valley, the (good) smell of farmland waves through the windows and the only thing louder than the wind whipping through the car is the stereo pumping out Zac Brown Band, Coldplay or James Bay.  It’s circling through the redwoods and glancing up at the green and brown giants whose tops I can’t begin to see and yet all have the same mission - pointing to the One Who made them.  

This year I’m diving headfirst into that.  Into exploring this world that’s full of wonder and invites the mind and heart to go beyond what they have seen or known.  It’s a chance to see and feel and experience how deep, how wide, how great IS His love for me. 

xx

Times they are a-changin'

Sitting here on the eve of my 35th birthday and having bumped into a friend from high school a couple nights ago while at a restaurant we joked about not feeling old.  And obviously, I’m not…compared to a 60 year old. But compared to a 21 year old…well?

And that’s what causes me to pause and think about how slowly and stealthily change has crept into my life in different ways: some funny, some interesting and some have me a little wary.  

1. I can’t shop at Zumiez anymore.  It’s just the way it is.  Having grown up in the 90’s when surf / skate / snowboarding was everything and any guy that was worth looking at was doing any or all of those things - I hope you can understand the sadness of this particular situation.  But that easy, breezy southern California style that has so faithfully carried me through most of my adult life - vintage tees, tight jeans, little sundresses - it’s just not gonna work anymore.  I never thought I’d grow out of it, but I honestly prefer a little more *ahem* grown-up look.  Granted trends have changed and all of that, but the last time I was in Zumiez looking at the sheer tees and hoodies, I felt myself having to breakup with it.  And it made me a little sad.  
2. Gray hair.  It’s happening.  I discovered my first looking in a mirror after washing my hands in a bathroom at the Woodburn Outlets.  And not just one…like 14.  Soooo, there’s that.  Hair appointments are now every 6 weeks. 
3. On that same Woodburn / Portland trip, my girls and I headed out for a late evening snack - donuts.  Our hotel was right next to Voodoo, so we skipped down to the lobby in our sweats and over a block to stand in line for that hit of sugar and fat.  Coming back into the lobby with our pink box of deliciousness we hit the elevator button to go back up to our room and when the door opened a slew of people came out.  They were all dressed to the nines, short, tight, sparkly dresses on the girls (who may or may not have been hired - truth) and the guys were all in black, clean lines and smelling really strongly of Paco Rabanne.  Carla, Codi and I looked at each other and happily passed them by, got in the elevator and rode up to our room.  I’m at that point.  The “I’d way rather sit in my hotel room and eat some donuts than get dressed up and go to a club” point.  No question.  And this comes from a girl who at age 21 was going to clubs on weeknights.  Again - truth.  
4. You know the running commentary of slight judgement against humanity driving that you have going on in your head most of the time?  Well, mine has always sided with those of the younger generation and most of my head shaking and occasional fists of fury (when you stick your arm up and shake your fist at whomever has upset you - it’s a Jenny Skudstad gesture) has gone towards senile drivers: they’re just bad at driving the speed limit, parking, navigating parking lots, using their turn signal too early, etc.  However, now I find myself thinking that maybe, MAYBE they’re actually the wise ones.  Sure, they don’t seem to notice others, but for the most part they’re being cautious with their speed, reeeeeeally making sure you know that they’re going to be turning a corner and forgive them for holding up traffic for 10 minutes just so they don’t have to park further than 4 spaces away from the entrance to a store.  If I had a bad hip I’d probably do the same.  It’s the youths now that “drive” me crazy.  GET OFF YOUR PHONE!!!  And slow down.  And use your turn signal.  And turn down that rubbish music you’re listening to.  See?  I’m literally turning into a geriatric as I’m writing this.  
5. I love a good, early bedtime.  Currently it’s 8:22 and I’m fully in bed and ready to shut things down within a half hour.  Gone are the evenings of 11:00/11:30 bedtimes because ohhhhh my goodness, if I had to go to bed that late and fully function as a parent / adult / wife / friend the next day - not good.  It’s not gonna be good.  
6. Playing cards with my friends is a perfectly acceptable way to spend a morning.  It reminds me of “I love Lucy” and how she and her friends used to play Bridge.  We don’t play Bridge, but if we learned it we might.  It’s a fun little scenario: four or five of us, looking at our cards and gabbing over coffee.  We’re the Golden Girls.  
7. Coffee is not so much a choice of beverage I have in the morning.  It is one of my lifelines.  I almost cried one morning because it was 10:30, I was feeling sluggish and tired and couldn’t figure out why until it dawned on me that I hadn’t had coffee yet.  Tears of joy, people, tears of joy. I don’t drink a lot - one cup, maybe two, but oh my goodness, it’s one of my favorite rituals of the morning.  

It’s fun and funny to see where the Lord has taken me.  So, here comes 35 and I’m not gonna fight it.  I am one to embrace my age. Birthdays aren’t a painful reminder of an inescapable truth of life - they’re a celebration of a person, and I love where life has me at this point.  Cheers to this next year.