Unbound

One week ago, I was set free from my hip-to-ankle knee brace prison, which broke my entire leg out in a rash and which had to be locked into the straight position at night, making it impossible to get a full night's sleep. That freedom came six weeks after I had my knee surgery, but in the four weeks before the surgery, I was held hostage by lesser contraptions, for a grand total of 80 days of varying degrees of immobility. Truly, though, it felt like a much longer period of time, and I often wondered if I would ever emerge on the other side. (They tell me that, even though I am free of the brace, my full range of mobility will not return for at least another six months. But, just having the brace off makes me feel human again, and that's definitely a good feeling!)

When the brace came off, I felt a wave of freedom shake me from head to toe. It seemed to go deeper than the bending and straightening my knee. So I started to probe a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on inside my own head. And it wasn't until that day that I realized just how deep my bondage was. It certainly wasn't just physical. The injury, loss of freedom, lack of sleep, pain, and knowledge that life can turn on a dime congealed in my mind to create an atmosphere of fear, anxiety, depression, negativity, and insecurity. I lost all interest in my Year of Firsts (though I kept doing them, out of a sense of duty I suppose), and every new thing (and quite a few old-hat things) I faced seemed like they had the potential to be the RipStik all over again. I struggled to muster up the courage to take any risks, no matter how small. I honestly felt paralyzed in so many ways, and I wasn't fully connecting the injury to my mental state. But, when the brace came off, I instantly felt clarity in the situation and recognized it for what it was.

This week has been full of freedoms in mind and body, and I feel much more like myself. I feel like trying new things and embracing challenges again. And I don't feel afraid or anxious of every single situation. In order to ditch the brace, I had to prove to my physical therapist that I could push through the pain and that I could build up the appropriate strength. To be truly unbound in my mind, there are similar hurdles to overcome.  I suspect this knee injury isn't yet finished with all the lessons it has to teach me, and I hope I have the grace and open-mindedness to receive them well as I work to make my mind stronger and more fit, just as I continue to work on physical strength and fitness.

Yes, And

*This is a deviation from my vacation postings. We're still cruising down the Alaska Highway, and I'll get back to that soon, but today there is something else on my mind.*

One month from today I will turn 40. This seems almost impossible to me, because I don't feel that I should have that many decades behind me. When I absorbed this fact earlier in the year, I honestly became quite depressed. I won't go into details, but it was an ugly time that seemed like it would consume me. Realizing that I was spiraling downward quickly and desperate to dig my heels in and fight it if I could, I started casting about for something--anything--that could act as an anchor and keep me from being sucked into the strong undercurrent of my emotional instability. 

That's when I came across a book called I Dare Me by Lu Ann Cahn. The subtitle drew me in: "How I rebooted and recharged my life by doing something new every day." Rebooting and recharging definitely seemed like a move in the right direction for me. And since I had been struggling with the mundanity of everyday suburban life after our trip around the world, "something new everyday" was irresistibly intriguing. It was a quick read, in which Ms. Cahn chronicled her "year of firsts," which included some things as simple as trying new-to-her foods, to activities as daring as rappelling into a cenote. Most of the things on her list were things she worked into her everyday life. Some were real stretches for her, and others were things she'd always wanted to try. Her main objective was simply to say "yes" when opportunities presented themselves and to give herself permission to step outside her comfort zone. She didn't love every first, but she learned a lot about herself, and she found herself in the new habit of saying "yes." For her, it was a method of combatting her own depression and a feeling of being stuck.

I'm certainly no improv actress, but I have taken a couple of classes and read a couple of books, trying to understand the techniques improv actors employee. There are many principles in the study of improv that are applicable to success in everyday life. Chief among them is the "Yes, and" concept. It basically means you take what is given to you and make it your own. This is what makes improv funny. You have no control over what is given to you by another player or audience member, but you can gratefully accept it and make into something you can work with. For many people, myself included, it is more natural to want to say "No." That's not the scene I want to play; that's not the character I want to portray. Lots of people want to be in control and therefore flat out refuse those situations that aren't entirely of their own making. But even when we can get ourselves to say "yes," we often follow it with "but" rather than "and." This kills the scene and all forward progress. You have to take what your improv partner (or life) gives you, and then you have to make something of it. You can't put the brakes on every idea, and you can't fill the scene (days) with excuses or conditions. Sometimes, you just have to jump in and go with it.

So, this is what I thought of when I read Ms. Cahn's book, and I knew immediately that a year of firsts, a "yes, and" year, was exactly how I wanted to celebrate the first year of a new decade of my life. The prospect makes me excited and nervous, and that's how I know it's the right thing to do. As I contemplated the idea, my depression was eventually lifted, and I made a plan to start my year of firsts on my birthday.

But, I seriously need some help. 365 days is a lot of days, and, while I want to be spontaneous and look at my world with new eyes for inspiration, I also want to have an arsenal of firsts from which to draw if I get stumped. I have started making a list, but it's a little skimpy. That's where you come in, if you're willing. I would love to have your suggestions of big and small things I can add to my list. I would also appreciate your words of encouragement and support, along with your own stories of saying, "Yes, and." 

I will be starting a new blog, devoted only to my year of firsts, and will keep this one for the goings-on of our family. I will share the URL soon and would love it if you'd follow along on my personal journey for self-improvement. Feel free to leave your suggestions for firsts in the comments section of this blog or on Facebook. 

Feel Good Friday: Choose the light

More times than I can count over the course of the last 14 years--my parenting years--I have heard words coming out of my mouth, directed at one kid or another, meant to correct inappropriate behavior and develop deeper character. And, sometimes, I'm quite shocked that the words I'm saying might be better directed inward than outward. Being a parent makes me acutely aware of my own character flaws and shortcomings. I see my hypocrisies and failings as if under a magnifying glass. And, so often, when I am correcting one of the kids, my words ricochet and strike me right in the heart, and I realize something in me needs to change, particularly if I want to see that change in one of them.

This happened today. I was reminding one of my dear offspring that every moment we have a choice about the kind of person we are going to be. Are we going to be rude or kind? Happy or sad? Engaged or disengaged? Respectful or disrespectful? Positive or negative? Helpers or hurters? Workers or slackers? We can't control everything that happens in life, but we can control how we respond. We always have a choice. 

The truth is, I have been pretty depressed since our RTW trip ended. I have been resentful of my stationary situation and have flatly refused (both subconsciously and consciously) to be happy in this place. Of course I've had moments of happiness and things certainly haven't been all bad. But, in my heart, I know I haven't really been trying that hard to make the choice to be happy. 

And, today, as I spoke to my child about choices, some lightbulb suddenly reignited inside my brain, and I realized that I can change my choice. That, in fact, I must change my choice, because I do not want to go through my days unhappy. I can and will choose to change my inner dialogue. I can and will choose happiness, regardless of my situation.

"We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on." --J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

As for me, in this rare and beautiful moment of clarity, I will choose the light.

(For more of my ramblings on choosing happiness, check out this post.)

Feel Good Friday: Beauty from Ashes

On October 30, 2015, my sister's home was destroyed by a tornado, while she and two of her kids hunkered down inside. Thankfully, they walked away from the event with only a few minor scrapes and bruises. Their community turned out in droves to support her and her family (you can read about that here), which was a blessing in and of itself. But last weekend, exactly a year later, they got to move into their dream home, designed by them and built from the ground up on the same slab the other house was removed from. It is not the way they would have chosen to get their dream house. But they readily acknowledge that the beautiful place they have now would not have been possible without the trial of that storm. Sometimes, friends, the struggle is the very vehicle of the beautiful life we long for, and we must force our eyes to look past the storm and try to find the rainbow.

October 30, 2015

October 30, 2016

Feel Good Friday

The world seems so dark and crazy and broken and negative. It seems we are constantly inundated with bad news. I admit, I have a sensitivity to negativity and a tendency to lean that direction with the slightest provocation. Sometimes my brain takes in all the little (and occasionally big) bits of negativity and churns it around until it becomes difficult to believe there is any good left in the world at all. Bad news hit our family in personal ways this week, and after days of feeling the weight of grief and anger, I remembered Mahatma Gandhi's words: "Be the change you wish to see in the world." And that got me thinking: If the world is dark, I can be light. If the world is crazy, I can be sane. If the world is broken, I can be whole. If the world is negative, I can be positive. I don't have to be part of the problem. I can be part of the solution. As I have been at a little bit of a loss for words lately and in need of some direction for the blog, I have decided to spread positive vibes in a new weekly feature, Feel Good Friday, where I will share things I find to be positive, uplifting, inspiring, happy, and/or beautiful. Can it change the world? Probably not. But, according to Norman Vincent Peale, if you "change your thoughts, you change your world," and changing just my world seems like a good place to start. If anything I post helps change yours, all the better.

Chasing Rainbows

I have always believed in rainbows. They represent a promise of hope for the future. They whisper, "You made it through the storm, and the sun will shine again." I cannot see a rainbow without feeling a little lighter in my heart and suspecting there is something good just around the corner. 

New Zealand has given us a lot of rainbows. Every single time we've had a moving day while we've been in this country, we've been guided down the road by a rainbow. That includes today, which is the day we will board a plane that will fly us back to our homeland. The message was not lost on me. 

As many of you know, I wrote a post several days ago lamenting our imminent return to the U.S. Those were all real feelings, and I don't regret sharing them, but they were definitely written while the storm raged in me. The truth is, there are many exciting things on the horizon for us, and we have much to look forward to in the immediate and distant future.

This trip has been full of rainbows, real and symbolic, and we are so incredibly thankful for this season of world travel. As we enter a new phase of our life adventure, we recognize there will be days of rain, but the plan is to just keep right on chasing rainbows. 

Some of the rainbows we've been chasing in New Zealand

The return of the nomad

A couple of days ago, Jeff came in and cheerfully announced that it was just 12 days until we would be back in the States. It was an innocent statement of fact, but I felt like all the air was sucked out of the room.

In the last year, we have traveled to more than 30 countries and have navigated different languages and cultures and a wide variety of living situations all along the way. Sometimes, it has been a bit nerve-racking and uncomfortable. But, honestly, I wasn't as nervous about entering and living in any of those places as I am about the next country on our list. This is odd, because the next one is the one that should feel comfortable, that should feel like home.

Don't get me wrong, I love the U.S. and am proud to be an American. I miss my family and friends and recognize the many and varied opportunities that the Land of the Free provides. And, truthfully, it's not so much the country that makes me nervous; it's the settling in. For better or worse, I'm much better at passing through than I am at digging in, which is something I hadn't fully realized about myself before this trip, but which has become abundantly clear. I really do have a nomad's heart.

Part of the struggle for me about re-entering my home country are the spoken and unspoken expectations and visible and invisible pressures that come with being an American. I have not missed these things. When you are a foreigner in a foreign land, people may think your behavior odd, but they do not expect you to conform to their ideas, because they recognize that you are just passing through. But when you're a local, it's different. The problem, for me, is that I very often feel like a foreigner in my own country, but I feel like that's not o.k. because homegrowns are expected to "get it" and to conform to whatever society deems normal, and I'm just not very good at that. And, further, I feel like I've only just really found myself while we've been traveling and have only had a very short time to get to know this person that I really kind of like. I'm concerned that our return may mean I never see this person again (though I sincerely hope this isn't true and will certainly do what I can to make sure we stay in touch). I realize if I were settling down permanently in another country, it would essentially be the same, but I imagine the grace period would be a bit longer for me to get my act together and start acting like everyone else.

I know that we need to go back. And, I know that we need to settle in at this particular point in our lives. We will find activities to be involved in, we will establish new normals, and we will grow and change in new and different ways. We will meet new people and reconnect with those whom we've known for years. And, we will be better for all of it, just as we are better for this season of nomadic exploration. We will still travel and have adventures (beginning with our first month back in the States, when we will be exploring the Hawaiian islands). There will be sad times, of course, and we will, no doubt, miss many things about our life abroad. But, there will also be happy times that we never could have imagined, and there will likely be many things that are better than they were when we were nomads. I know all of this. But, my inner nomad still struggles against the act of settling in and sometimes struggles to breathe under the the weight of what that means.

I realize that there are far worse problems in the world than where I live and that most of what I'm feeling is probably more in my head than anything else. But as Dumbledore says in the last book of Harry Potter, when Harry asks if what he's experiencing is real or just happening in his head, "Of course it's happening inside your head...but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

Processing my thoughts in writing seems to infuse oxygen into the cramped space inside my head, making it easier to catch my breath, so thank you for indulging me in this honest brain dump. Also, some of you have asked what coming back feels like, after being away so long. This is pretty much it. I know it isn't all sunshine and roses, but it is real, and I think the world needs a bit more of that sometimes. And, even if the world doesn't need it, I definitely do.

Five trips around the sun, One trip around the world

Claycito,

You are five today! And, it's also the one year anniversary of the start of our RTW trip. You are a trooper and are always up for an adventure! You have walked a million miles on your little legs, eaten and enjoyed an amazing array of exotic foods, slept in more new houses/beds than we can even count, navigated subway stations and other various forms of transportation, had your picture made with innumerable statues (and Asians!), tried out words and phrases in different languages, and made friends wherever you have been. And, you have done it all with an almost-constant smile your face. You are one of the happiest, easiest-to-get-along-with people I have ever known. And, you genuinely love to travel. (You even wanted a world birthday cake this year!) It has been so much fun experiencing the world with you, not only in the last year, but in the last five.

During this last year you have really gotten good at writing, and you often write special little notes for everyone in the family. You love more deeply than anyone I know, and nothing makes you happier than doing nice things for the people you care about. You are a giver, a sharer, and a helper. You are always thinking of others, and you never tire of giving hugs and kisses and other forms of affection. Recently, Dad took you out for some one-on-one time and offered to do anything you wanted to do. Your immediate response was to request to get a surprise for everyone else, which Dad had to agree to before you would pick anything for yourself. Selflessness is at your very core, and I truly believe you make the world a better place. I don't think I'll ever be the kind of kind, generous person you are, but you make me want to try.

You were eager to do school work this year, just like the other kids. You worked hard on writing, reading, math, history, and Chinese. You are a smart boy and have a fantastic memory. You impressed us the other day by writing the Chinese character for "four," without any prompting and after quite a long break in the regular study of the subject. Sometimes you do take your self-imposed school work a little too seriously, though, and Dad and I have to insist that you take a break to go play. You are really looking forward to being in Kindergarten this next school year and to participating with a CC class back in Texas.

At this point in your life, you are hoping to be "a cowboy in a rocket ship, shooting bows and arrows" when you grow up. It seems like a good goal. You have big plans for the design of your rocket, which include making sure there is a spot for every person in your immediate and extended family and a bucket of each person's favorite things, which you have detailed mental catalogs of. You also plan to have plenty of "weaponary," just in case we come across any bad guys. There's definitely something to be said for preparedness. I'm sure you learned everything you need to know about rocket ships from your friend Watta JJ, because she seems to know everything about everything, and she's always willing to share her knowledge. She's a good friend.

You got to ride a horse for the first time this year, and you had a blast. You also became quite a good little swimmer, and it won't be long before you can handle the pool without Dad or me being in the water. Throughout the year, you have had opportunities to play rugby, soccer, hockey, and a few other sports, but you have decided you'd like to play good ol' American baseball when we get back to the States. I bet you'll be the cutest baseball player to ever grace the field. (You know for sure that you DON'T want to play football. I suspect it's just too rough for your gentle tastes.)

Clay, I can't believe you're 5! I am so thankful for you and proud of you! I love your big heart and your big smile. You bring joy to every day and to every corner of the earth you touch. You are a blessing to me and to everyone who knows you. Happy Birthday, sweet boy! Have fun being a whole hand full!

Hugs and kisses and lots of love,
Mom

My favorite five boy
(who insisted on having his whole name on his cake,
and who requested Africa and Venice to be on top)

Last Day in Koh Samui

Sadly, our time in Koh Samui has come to an end. Our time here has been sweet beyond words and will always be fondly remembered, and, hopefully, we will be able to return someday. In these past two weeks, the sun, surf, and serenity of our surroundings have facilitated a refreshing of our souls, beyond what we even knew we needed. With this renewal of spirit has come a renewal of mind, and both Jeff and I have been able to explore the depths of projects that we are very much excited about working on, as well as have meaningful conversations about the future, which now seems less daunting and more approachable than it did before. So, even though I'm sad to leave Koh Samui, I feel being here has given me the benefit of having new eyes, and I'm so grateful for this time. Now, on to Malaysia!

Nochevieja y Nuevo Ano

In Spain, New Year's Eve is called "Nochevieja," which comes from bygone days of calling it "Old Year's Night." I kind of like making the distinction between the old and the new, because both are important and worthy of consideration.

As the sun was setting on the last day of 2015, I had an opportunity to take a walk on the beach by myself. Aside from just being a lovely end to the day, it was also a wonderful time to reflect on this past year and to contemplate the year ahead. 

2015 brought more changes to my life than any other single year I have lived through thus far. But, I can say with conviction that it was probably my favorite year of all. I found myself in so many new places, having so many new experiences. But, more importantly, I found myself, my real true self, in so many unique places and through so many unique experiences, and I am better for it. I have learned to let go of so much physical and emotional baggage, so many things that I didn't even know were weighing me down. I have learned to live more simply and to find joy in unexpected places. I have learned to filter out a lot of the noise of life and seek out the sanctuaries. Not everything in 2015 was fun or easy or even interesting. There was sadness and anger and hurt and mistakes, just like any other year. But, there was also joy and peace and healing and learning.

I have been steering away from formal New Year's Resolutions for a few years now, as they seem to me a bit trite. Instead, I have been trying to make happy life choices throughout the days and weeks and months and years. Most of 2016 lies before me a complete unknown, and there was time in my life when that would have made me uncomfortable in so many ways. But, I have learned that I can choose my own happiness, regardless of the situations I find myself in, and that that happiness is the only one I am responsible for. I have also learned that happiness sometimes comes in unexpected ways, so it's important to keep an open mind.

So, whatever the year brings, I will look for the good and will embrace opportunities to become a better, truer version of myself. I hope you all have had or will have some time to reflect on the year that has passed and to consider the one that lies ahead. I wish you all joy and peace and healing and learning in this new year. May you find a better, truer version of yourself, and may you enjoy every part of the journey. Happy 2016!

Here are some pictures from our Nochevieja celebrations:

The sun setting on 2015

One of the Spanish traditions is to eat 12 grapes--
representing the 12 months of the coming year--
on each chime of the clock at midnight.
Those who succeed in eating all their grapes in the
allotted time will have good luck all year.
Our grapes came packaged in plastic champagne flutes,
so we were ready to toast the new year (with sparkling juice)
 when we finished our grapes.

Happy New Year!

Another Spanish tradition is to eat churros with chocolate
just before you go to bed on New Year's Day, after celebrating all night.
We were not able to find churros, so we made our own tradition,
and ate a delicious chocolate torta from a local bakery instead.

Today, I Choose Happiness

Ever have a day (or week, or month, or year) when you're extra hormonal, or stressed, or maybe just too tired to fight off the negative thoughts that plague us all from time to time? It becomes so much easier to focus on those few extra pounds playing around your waist, and the middle-age hormonal acne stubbornly cluttering your complexion, and the ever increasing gray hairs sprouting out of your scalp like a nest of angry and unruly vipers. The people around you seem to be more annoying than usual, and your reactions are more snippy or harsh. You may have entertained thoughts of running away from it all, only to remember that you can't run away from your thoughts, which is where the real problem lies.

You may not have ever felt this way, but I certainly have. Just recently, I recognized this familiar but uncomfortable twisting of my mind, and I determined I would not allow my happiness to be taken prisoner in this way. So, I channeled my inner Stuart Smalley and came up with a written list of strategies I can employ for pursuing happiness. It is on the list-making app on my phone, and it is entitled: "Today, I will choose happiness!" I can't make a grocery list, or notes about school, or even look at any other kind of list without seeing this one. And, often, just seeing the app icon reminds that the list is sitting there, waiting to put me back on the straight and narrow when my thoughts start to stray. And, it may seem silly, but it does help me to have the goal--happiness--right in front of me all day long, and to be reminded that it is my choice.

I thought I would share the list here, as a quick reference for myself and in case any of you might find it helpful. My "Daily Affirmations" also include a list from T.D. Jakes that I came across just after I made my own list. To be honest, I don't always choose happiness. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I am powerless in the face of overwhelming negative feelings, and I give in and let them take my mind hostage. But reading through these lists helps me remember that I am (or can be!) in control and that I have the power to take my thoughts captive. If you have any go-to strategies for helping yourself choose happiness, I would love for you to share them, so that I may learn from you.

Today, I will choose happiness!

• I will choose to embrace the members of my household and others around me and see them as blessings instead of burdens. I will be interested in the things they are interested in, even if those things are not my favorite things. Their happiness may be entwined with my happiness, so I will try to make them happy, if I can. 
• I will let go of bitterness and offer forgiveness, even if it isn't asked for or deserved. 
• I will look for beauty and solitude where I can find it, and I will appreciate it for what it is. 
• I will not compare myself to others.
• I will focus the bulk of my energy and attention on controlling the one person I have complete control of: me.
• I will find something active to do. 
• I will pursue creative outlets.
• I will go outside.
• I will lower my expectations. I can pursue excellence without confusing that with perfection. 
• I will actively look for things to be thankful for. 
• I will close my eyes and take deep breaths, if I need to. 
• I will smile, even when I don't feel like it. 

From T.D. Jakes (along with some of my own notes):

• Own your own happiness--It is not anyone else's job to make me happy. (And, by the same token, no one can make me unhappy, unless I allow them to). I need to own my happiness and be responsible for doing those things that bring joy to my heart.
• Challenge your own story--I may be telling myself a story that isn't quite true. I can change the way I talk to myself and about myself.
• Enjoy the journey, not the destination--I don't have to wait for this or that to be happy. I can be happy in the meantime, all along the way.
• Make relationships count--I need relationships, so I must be intentional about working to make all my relationships work.
• Balance work with play--Take care of business, but don't forget to have some fun.

Just a bunch of people from Texas, driving around in Ireland

When you travel, you run into all kinds of people--people from everywhere. Today, we literally ran into a man from Austin, TX. Or, rather, he ran into us. With his car. Just three miles from our destination. We are all o.k. and the car is still fully operational, but, I'm not going to lie, there was a split second before it happened when I knew it was going to happen, and I didn't think we'd be so fortunate. In fact, I closed my eyes and felt fairly confident that I would have a sedan in my lap when I opened them again. Honestly, I've been expecting something like this for months. The unreasonably narrow roads, driving on the "wrong" side of the road, and the frequent rain have all seemed like a recipe for disaster. And, today provided just the perfect mix of each. When we were in Naples (driving on the "right" side of the road, I might add), Jeff finally forbade me to gasp in the car. So, I developed the habit of clearing my throat rather forcefully, which didn't fool Jeff for a minute. He knew I was still gasping in my heart and just trying to make it seem a bit more casual. Today, I didn't gasp or clear my throat. I just closed my eyes and waited for the worst. It didn't happen, and I'm so very thankful. But, I will tell you that I was still shaking a half hour later, engaged in that annoying human habit of asking "what if...?" The truth is, "what if" doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is "what is." Life turns on a dime. There's just no time for "what if." I will hug my people a little tighter tonight and say a prayer of thanksgiving, but I will not let the "what ifs" steal my joy. Instead, I will celebrate "what is" with all my heart.

New Normals

New normals are our new normal, and, as I mentioned in a post the other day, flexibility is the name of the game. Situations we could not have easily imagined a year ago seem to materialize in our lives constantly now. One example of this is our current living situation, which has us in a two bedroom trailer house, with a tiny kitchen that contains no coffee pot of any kind. We gave Ruth the diminutive extra bedroom, because sometimes a teenage girl just needs a little privacy and some space. So, all three boys are sleeping in the living room, on the fold-out couch and the other sofa. I'm not complaining, because there is truly plenty of room for everyone, and we are all finding that we need less stuff and space than we used to believe we needed. I'm simply making a point that things are different for us than they once were, and we are daily learning lessons in flexibility, patience, and creativity. Because of the close quarters and the elusive wifi inside our current home, we have adopted a new bedtime routine, which, at first, seemed frustrating but has now kind of grown on us. After baths, Jeff will bring Clay into our bedroom for a bedtime story, which will become progressively more boring until Clay (and maybe Jeff) falls asleep, while the older boys and girl read in their beds until the appointed lights-out time. During that time, I will slip out to the car, where there is a decent and fairly consistent wifi signal. I will take care of whatever business I need to take care of and soak up the glorious impenetrable silence, which, as an introvert living with incredibly loud and needy people in small spaces, I desperately need. (I also need this when we are living in large spaces, just to be clear.) When I come back in the house, everyone is enveloped in sweet slumber. I will then move Clay to his bed in the living room, having avoided the whole brothers-in-close-quarters arguing and roughhousing routine, that can easily spiral out of control at bedtime, especially when beds are being shared. It is starting to really feel like we win all the way around. So, if you had asked me a year ago if I'd like to live in a two bedroom trailer house with four kids and no internet or coffee pot, I would have quickly said, "No way, Jose!" But, our new normal really isn't all that bad, and we are discovering that there can even be freedom and joy in finding and embracing new normals. Are there any "new normals" in your life? How have you had to be flexible, patient, and/or creative as you've adjusted to them?

My "new normal" improvised coffee pot

Sometimes, embracing a new normal can be sweet!

The importance of bathroom mirrors

We recently stayed in a house that didn't have a mirror in one of the bathrooms. And, every time I went in there, something just seemed not quite right. I do not often think of myself as vain, but the absence of the mirror was noticeable. There were other mirrors in the house, but, still, I missed the bathroom mirror. So, I got to thinking: "What's so important about a bathroom mirror?" This is what I came up with:

We need a place where we can examine ourselves freely, without the scrutinizing eyes of our sweetie or our children or a friend or a stranger or the world. We need places where we we can be alone with ourselves and just look. This extends far beyond a peek at our physical appearance. Unfortunately, many people I know seem to be uncomfortable with this kind of personal scrutiny, and so it is like they intentionally leave out the mirror in the bathroom, and then things just don't quite seem right. We need to take the time to examine ourselves, to know our flaws and features, to work on the things that need work and accentuate the assets. And, sometimes, we need to do this without the influences of even those who are closest to us, because it is important to know ourselves. Other mirrors have their place, for sure, but the one you will miss the most is the one in that most private of places.

One Week

Tonight is our last night in our house. The house we built, and have loved, and have created so many memories in. We will spend the next few days with family and wrap up a bit of unfinished business. And, then, one week from today, we will turn the page on a new chapter of our lives. I'm not going to lie, change is hard, and leaving a world full of mostly knowns for a world full of mostly unknowns is a great challenge. It has already been a tearful week, as we've said good-bye to some amazing friends and neighbors, activities, possessions, and the here and now, and as we've looked forward to an uncertain future. There are so many emotions: fear, excitement, nervousness, elation, sadness, curiosity, et cetera, et cetera. And, so many questions: Have we truly prepared well? Do we have everything we need? Do we have more than we need? What if...? What if...? What if...?

As we've shared our travel news in the preceding months, we've heard that we're brave, that we're adventurous, that we're crazy, that we're ALL GONNA DIE! (People haven't come out and said that last one in words, but sometimes it's not hard to read between the lines.) The truth is, we are a little brave and a little adventurous and a little crazy. But, isn't everyone? Just to face each new day, with whatever personal challenges it holds for us, we all have to possess some quantity of each of those qualities. Your brave and my brave may not look exactly alike, but it is brave just the same. And, sometimes, the line between brave and crazy really is a bit blurred. The Watts aren't completely brave or completely adventurous or completely crazy, but we do have just enough of each of those qualities to face what's next for us. Just like you. Here's to the future! Let's do this!

End of an era

Unbelievably, the boys and I attended our last class day of CC yesterday. (Ruth will complete her semester next Tuesday.) CC has been such a huge part of our lives for the last five years, and it is truly hard to believe that we have come to the end of that era, for now. I didn't have a clue what we were getting in to when we first signed up all those years ago. I just knew that I needed to not feel alone on my homeschooling journey. And that was certainly one of the big things CC offered. But, it has been so much more than that. We have been challenged academically, encouraged personally, nourished spiritually and fulfilled in more ways than we can count. We have made friends that feel like family, and we have pushed ourselves to do things we didn't know we could do. We could not be more thankful for the opportunity to have been a part of something so special. We will miss the program and people tremendously, but we will carry our experiences from this chapter of our lives into the next and will undoubtedly be better for it.

Saying good-bye

This past weekend has been marked on the calendar for a while as the time when most of the remaining stuff must go, because we didn't want to leave things for the last minute and because we wanted to return the trailer we've been borrowing for months and months. Whatever we'd been holding on to "for just a little longer," has now been removed, and we are now basically down to six bar stools, five mattresses on the floor, a handful of dishes and our travel bags. And, even though we've been serious about getting rid of stuff for months, there was still so much stuff. Most of the items were easily gotten rid of, without a single thought, except "Why do we still have this?!" But some of them held more of our hearts and required a bit more than just a cursory glance and a casual toss in a bag.

For instance, Clay had somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand stuffed animals, which he has been reluctant to part with. He has a special small friend to travel with (O. California) and a couple of long-time friends (Nemo and Oosh) in his box of things to keep. The rest had to go, so Jeff told Clay it was time to let other boys and girls have a chance to play with these friends. Clay didn't cry or get upset and, true to his nature, actually seemed happy to share them with someone else. But he did kiss and hug each one and then shared a special message with each individual, like, "Have fun!" or "I'll see you later." It was the sweetest little ritual.

When it was time to load up Jeff's over-sized recliner that we've had since Ruth was born, Jeff stretched out in it one last time and delivered a heartfelt speech to it. All the boys then followed suit. It's been a good chair and a good friend, and it will be missed.

There was also another kind of good-bye. In the storage closet upstairs, there was a box of my old journals, some dating back to my high school years, that I have been holding on to all these years. I've moved them countless times and, though I never really go back and read through them, I have felt incapable of getting rid of them. It just seemed like too much history to dispose of, too much of myself to say good-bye to. I have specifically been avoiding cleaning out that closet because I didn't want to have to decide what to do with them. But, yesterday, when I finally went up to tackle the closet, I had a revelation: I know who I am, and I don't need to dwell on who I was.

Don't get me wrong, I think there is value in self-evaluation, in looking back at where we came from and realizing how we need to change or how we've already changed. But, sometimes, we get so caught up in the past that we let it rule our futures. We let the past define us, and then we are afraid to become something new. We carry it with us for years and years, and it becomes a heavy, paralyzing burden. I threw the whole box of journals away, and I'm not sad about that. It's actually a relief to not move that box again. I'm not defined by my past, and I am free to step into the future uninhibited. Are there things from your past that you need to let go of? If so, I would like to encourage you to go ahead and do it. I don't think you'll regret it.

The joy of lower expectations

For much of the time Jeff and I were dating, we were in a long-distance relationship, and we only saw each other on weekends, if that often. Just about every time Jeff showed up at my doorstep, he delivered a lovely bouquet of flowers or at least a stem or two. Imagine my shock and surprise after we got married and all that sweetness seemed to come to a screeching halt. It's not that he wasn't ever sweet or romantic. It's just that we lived in the real world--together--and that level of awesome is too much for anyone to live up to. But, still, I was disappointed and sometimes angry, which didn't inspire Jeff to bring me flowers more often and only sapped the joy out of our relationship at times. I didn't even know I had an expectation, until I would catch myself saying in my heart, "He used to bring me flowers, but he never does that any more."

When I started having children, and when they were big enough, I thought, "I'll just teach them how to put their things away and clean up after themselves, and my house will stay clean." Wasn't I surprised to find out that that is the furthest thing from reality that could possibly be. I have taught the kids how to clean up after themselves, but the house certainly doesn't stay clean. (And, that's not just because of the kids!) This has often led to me feeling stressed and frustrated, and taking that out on the people around me, even though expecting six people who live and work and school at home to keep the house clean all the time is pretty crazy, when you stop to think about it.

It's not just relationships that suffer from the Exasperation of Expectation. Sometimes, I put unreasonable expectations on myself (especially when comparing myself to someone else). Or on other drivers on the road. Or on the washing machine. But I have been learning (and relearning, over and over again!) that there is joy in lowering expectations. 

I don't mean lowering in a sense of becoming negative or pessimistic about things. I mean it more in the sense of letting go of all expectations, so that I can look for opportunities to be thankful for the things that exceed my (non-existent) expectations. That is, so I can be thankful for all the things. I'm working on a new life motto: Expect nothing, appreciate everything. And, you know what, there really is joy there.

My hubby still brings me flowers sometimes. And, since I don't ever expect him to do so, it gets me every time. I'm all giddy and silly, and just plain happy. And, when my kids put their dishes in the sink after dinner, without having to be reminded--or better yet, when they just decide to load the dishwasher because it needs to be done--I breath it in as a breath of fresh air, and my heart rejoices. 

Unreasonable expectations lead to grumbling and complaining--sometimes inwardly and sometimes outwardly--which leads to discontent and unhappiness. But letting go of those lofty expectations provides an opportunity to be thankful and happy in the face of any circumstance. I've been struggling with this the last couple of weeks, so I decided to write it down to remind myself. When I'm out of whack emotionally, I can usually (eventually) trace it to some misplaced or unreasonable expectation. 

If you're feeling overwhelmed with frustration or disappointment or anger, I dare you to give it a try. Let go of your expectations, and let life surprise you with a million little things to be thankful for. And, just see if that attitude of gratitude doesn't make you happy.

Empty the bucket

We walked down the beach, his three steps to my one. I offered to carry the blue bucket to collect our treasures, but he insisted he carry it himself.  We had already taken a few steps, when he ran back for the red plastic shovel, which was almost the same size as him. I tried to tell him he didn't need it, but, again, he insisted. I intentionally kept my pace slow to accommodate my short-legged friend, and so that I could look for interesting shells and sea glass. I had already placed a few finds in the bucket but soon noticed my partner falling further and further behind. He had stopped to heap a shovelful of sand into the bucket, completely covering the things I had placed inside. I redirected his steps and reminded him that our bucket was for treasures and not for sand. A few more steps found us repeating this exercise. After his third stop, with the bucket nearly full of sand and no room left for treasures, this sweet little boy began to list to one side, his movements propelling him more sideways than forward, and at a snail's pace. He didn't ask for help, but I knew we would make no more progress if things remained as they were. So, I asked him, "Is your bucket heavy?" "Yes," came the quick reply. "Well, why don't you empty it." This thought had clearly not occurred to him, but he was willing to take my advice. With his burden lifted, he picked up his pace and began helping me search for lightweight prizes with which to fill the bucket. And, from that point on, he seemed to enjoy the trek down the beach a little more.

I was struck by the similarity to my own life. I insist on doing everything myself, on carrying burdens that I have no business carrying. Burdens that weigh me down, slow my pace and take the place of the beauty life could contain. And, sometimes, it's just time to empty the bucket.

9-11

I was just barely 24 and was using the time while I was trying to "find myself" to volunteer at a local hospital. On Tuesdays, I helped at the information desk--delivering flowers to patient rooms, placing magazines in the waiting rooms, showing people where to go, and answering the phone and a multitude of random questions. The following week, I would find out I was pregnant with my first child, and I would question the wisdom of bringing a child into such a crazy world. 

That Tuesday started out just like the rest. With my red apron and my happy-to-help smile firmly in place, I loaded my arms with a stack of newly donated magazines, and began making my rounds to the waiting rooms. When I got to the ER, things seemed strange. Everyone was glued to the TV, and the volume was louder than normal. I completed the task I had come for and then joined the crowd by turning my attention to the blaring television as well. It was reporting a plane crash in New York City, right into the side of one of the World Trade Center buildings. "How sad," I thought. And, I began to pray in my heart for the families of this unfortunate accident. Bu,t then, something truly strange and incomprehensible happened as I continued to watch: another plane hit the other building. And, immediately I knew it couldn't have been an accident. But I couldn't really wrap my brain around what it could be. I just knew that everything within me was rejecting the reality of what I'd just seen. I kept hoping maybe it was a glitch in the the playback of the first crash. It wasn't. My body seemed to be shaking and my head seemed foggy as I made my way back to the information desk. And, I could barely form the words to tell my co-volunteers what I had just seen. The rest of the day is a complete blur. Of course, the reports only got worse and the death toll kept rising. My heart is heavy with the sadness of that day, and the days that followed, even now.

Where there is great tragedy, there are also great heroes. And, many ordinary people became extraordinary heroes that day. I commend those who put aside their own fears to allay the fears of others; those who showed astounding bravery in the wake of a cowardly attack; those who helped the helpless and hoped for the hopeless. Today, I remember. And, my thoughts are with those who lost their lives that day and those who live on, some of whom are still feeling the pain of that day as if it were only yesterday.