Brothers

Sparing partners and best friends…I love seeing them together and pray they will always be close!

Our Princess

Two months already and SUCH a treasure!  We’re enjoying her immensely! 

My Second Treasure

My three and a half year old who loves every bit as hard as he plays! 

My Firstborn

Almost seven already…how does that happen?

My Beautiful Family

Special thanks to our dear friend and photographer, Jenn of Ruby Hill Photography!

She’s Here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our princess arrived on March 31st at 6:25 pm PST!  Even though she weighed 9 lbs, 3 oz and was 21 1/4 inches long she made it easy on mom and continues to do so!  She’s a sweet baby and we’re enjoying her so much! 

A Year

One year ago today, we left our home in Paraguay.  I cried for hours.  Actually, I think I had already been crying for days.   

I cried halfway to the capital city.  I cried while we sat at the tire shop getting a flat tire fixed and the men stared at me. 

I cried unashamedly as we fueled the van up and the boy from our church averted his eyes from my pain. 

Despite appearances, I was leaving well.  I had said my goodbyes, did special things one last time with friends, I’d eaten local foods, prayed blessings over precious heads, even left time for impromptu goodbyes.   

I did all the right things, all the things they suggest, but regardless, the act of leaving still threatened to drain the life right out of me.  (Incidentally, I think that’s one of the biggest lies missionaries fall for.  We think that if we UNDERSTAND something, we shouldn’t have to experience the emotions of that thing, be it culture shock, transition stress, etc.). 

In some ways our departure from Paraguay was more painful than others we had experienced because we had worked so hard to put down roots and make it home.  And it had truly became that, against all odds, in under two years.

I still miss it, but I haven’t cried for it again since that day.  I know myself (and His grace).  The leaving is hell, but I’m always ok when I get where I’m going. 

In a strange way, it’s actually a blessing to have gone through so many transitions because now I know myself and how I instinctively handle them, which allows me to adjust my thinking and behavior to be able cope with them healthily.     

And now here I am, three hundred and sixty five days later…in Washington state, a totally different life.  Another change coming, this time a precious little girl joining our family.  This is a transition I haven’t done before (well, at least not in PINK!).  And it will be a goodbye of sorts too, I suppose but I have every confidence that God will guide me not only through it, but also through the emotions of another change, albeit a joyful, desired one.      

There truly is a season for everything…and this year has been proof of God’s loving work, using all things to shape me into His image…sowing in tears, reaping in joy…it’s all His grace. 

Things Are About to Change Around Here!

We're gearing up for a much awaited change around here! Pink has invaded the house, the pack 'n play has been set up and THE suitcase has been packed! Our precious gift is due to arrive March 25th, but I'm hoping I get to introduce you to her before that! :)
Have a beautiful day, friends!

The Aroma of Grace

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We’re back on Highway 2, the same road I’ve taken to the city and home for seventeen years.  This time more than a quick trip to the city, we’ve crossed several state lines and driven a dozen hours to get back to the familiar.  Back to the rolling hills laden with ripening wheat.  The red barns.  The roads named after farmers long gone, whose land still feeds and clothes their sons and grandsons. 

Though they mark our nearness to home, I hardly give them thought.  Hardly realize that I’m watching for Zeimer Road, now that we’ve passed Janett Road.  I’m so fixed on getting out of the car, that I don’t really appreciate it all. 

And then slowly my subconscious wakes up and I notice.  It smells like home.  I take a deep breath of the earthy, late summer smell.  The smell of wheat turning to gold.  The smell of land well loved.

I look over to my husband, weary chauffer, “You smell that?” I ask.  “Smells like home.”  He nods that it does.  I smile.  Home.  I hardly know a word as pleasing. 

But before we know it we’re pulling in to the garage and unloading suitcases and  I’m doing laundry and feeding souls and life is back to it’s normal rhythm.

That is, until the next time I’m on my way home from the city.   This time I’m alone, lost in my thoughts.  I pass the Grange Hall where the straight as an arrow road finally bends. 

Not a mile later, I smell it again.  The familiar.  The smell of home.  I smile and think how much I love this place. 

Then I realize, it’s ten miles sooner that I drink it in today.  And I wonder, was I really so oblivious a few days earlier?  Why hadn’t I noticed?  Had it really taken my subconscious ten miles to wake me up?   I’m vaguely bothered by the inclination. 

My discomfort grows.  I’m face to face with the fact that too often I sleep with my eyes open, blind to the glorious beauty of the mundane.  Deaf to the miraculous melodies in the familiar.  And worst of all, oblivious to the aroma of grace.  I journey miles and miles without breathing it sweet. 

And I know then, that just like the smell of home lingered in the air for ten miles before I finally woke up to it, His grace is all around me, abounding.  It’s always there, even when all I breathe is the stale car air of the mundane. 

The smell of grace hangs in the air, waiting to nourish, comfort and thrill.  His blessings abound.  And I, for one, never want to return to shallow breathing but instead daily partake of the wondrous aroma of grace.  

Continuing the count:

1229.  Sitting through an entire sermon

1273.  Waves crashing, hearts talking

1301. The smell of home

1311.  A year without any major health crises

1312.  Baby girl on the way! 

1324.  Those who encouraged me to start writing again

1352.  Sons reading Frog & Toad

1355.  Pink and purple sunrises

The Meager Few

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Three.  The meager number of times I posted here in 2011.  Once to tell you I have MS.  Once to share the blessed suffering of acceptance of said disease.  And finally, once to tell you I was back to blogging (which I obviously was not) and share how thankfulness changes our perspective, making beautiful to us things that once seemed undesirable. 

So much left out.  Such a gap of understanding between us.  2011 was surely more than was represented here.  I lament that.  I grieve that I did not do the work of discovering and testifying to God’s sufficiency in every circumstance  (that’s what writing is for me).  And I regret that I did not share it with you who have been so kind to me and who, for some reason, still come back here, still think this place is worth keeping.  Over and over God has used you to confirm that there is a gift that needs to be fanned to flame.  Thank you. 

I’m not making any promises for 2012, but I do truly want to respond to the Spirit’s prompting when the words start piling up and rearranging themselves in my mind.  I do want to share the encouragement I find so regularly in the person of God.  And I do want to honor what it is that you have worked hard to encourage in me.  

Thank you for being here at My Place of Peace.  It’s an honor to journey together with you!  Happy New Year, friends!