Moving Day - Part the Second

Last Monday we recruited a handful of family and unloaded the shipping container that will be storing most of our earthly possessions while we gallivant around the country.This was no easy feat. When we first bought it, we thought Grandpa O could just take it off with his SkyTrak, but it was too heavy for that, so more creativity had to be used.

We loaded the container in Missouri, then unloaded almost all of it onto the driveway in OK. When only a few tubs were left in the end, Grandpa O and Uncle C employed a little farm-boy know-how and came up with a workable solution.

They used the same SkyTrak to pull the box into position, and we began to reload it. It is now accessible. I have to say, there's nothing really valuable in it. It's just books, photos, etc. But it's nice for the kids to know that Grandpa's watching their extra toys and stuffed animals for them. And it's nice to have a place that we can switch out our reading material when we get bored.

We're living with my parents for a couple weeks while we prepare the RV for travel. Not only does it need a good cleaning, but there are a few leaks we've discovered as well, and some cat hair removal from a previous owner. (Well, from their cat, anyway.) There's evidence of a mouse, too, but we haven't caught the little beggar yet, so we're hoping the farm cat took care of it. If you look closely at the picture, you'll see a little girl scrubbing a window.

Both sets of parents have been absolutely wonderful as we make this transition. They've helped, fed us, given us places to sleep, watched the kids...just too many things to list. I'm so grateful that we have a great relationship with my parents and with my in-laws. I know that can be a rare thing. Even though they probably think "the responsible first-borns" lost their mind and went off the deep end, they're still being the kindest and most supportive they could possibly be. What a blessing!

The Big Move - Part the First

It took a couple of months longer than I thought it would, but we have finally arrived in Oklahoma, our home base, which means the house is finished and sold and our container has been purchased, packed, shipped, unpacked, unloaded, placed, and repacked. Yes, it was about as complicated as it sounds.

There were a few unexpected bumps along the way, like Aaron hurting his back two weeks before M-Day, but our family and friends were absolutely amazing. My in-laws came up from Oklahoma and they helped us finish the re-model, pack, and maintain sanity. A cousin, his wife, and his extraordinarily well-behaved little family brought our container on a truck, helped load it, and then hauled it (and the van) to western OK for us. 

And not least, our Nevada friends came by day after day with hugs, words of encouragement, and open arms that I could fill with things we no longer needed/wanted/had room to pack. I watched our aloe plant walk out the door in the arms of good friend, and it was easier to let it go that way. (Our aloe plant was big enough to deserve its own particular mention. It was huge, and would've taken up most of the RV kitchen, but we loved it dearly, as it and the cactus were my only house plant successes in a long history of trial and death.)

On moving day, lots of people came by to help, and it was all relatively painless - physically, that is. It's always hard to say goodbye, but especially so when a person is right there helping you and being generally wonderful. Mrs. B even came by after everyone but Aaron and I had left, and helped me scrub the house. She washed my bathrooms. Yes, it's embarrassing; yes, it was wonderful.

There are many, many more people, but I will not mention everyone individually. Suffice it to say, they know who they are, they were fantastic, and we will all miss them very much. Thank you to everyone for the support, the meals, the childcare, the prayers, the place to sleep when our bed was gone...just everything. You all made this move possible, and we are eternally grateful for who you are and the blessing you have been in our lives.

We are now in Oklahoma, and will be here for a couple weeks - fulfilling some promises, searching for cell reception, and preparing for our new life out on the road. (More about that in Part 2).

When Life Sells Your Toys in a Yard Sale

For Zaya and Mim, having most of your belongings packed (or sold in a very comprehensive garage sale) means learning to make your own fun with what you have. Today, it means using one of my kitchen towels to begin training for a three-legged race that may someday be in their future.

Yesterday it meant seeing who could contort their body enough to fit entirely into a Rubbermaid storage tub and learning to make lunch with whatever they could find in the kitchen that would be considered edible in our culture. We had scrambled eggs, pan-fried turkey lunchmeat, Tostito chips and tuna. (This was so I could help Aaron with the tile.)

It is always important for a child to learn how to make his/her own fun, but it is especially so for these two since they (we!) will soon be in a very small space for extended periods of time. Life in an RV will be drastically different than life in a 2000+ sq. ft. home. For one thing, I'll be able to sit on my bed and hear every little giggle from the children that are supposed to be sleeping in their bunks, as opposed to our current situation where I only realize they aren't asleep if I happen to venture down their end of the hall.

I still can't quite believe that the change is going to happen, and very, very soon. The tile is almost finished in the basement, and then there are just a few little things left to fit into place (doors, thresholds, trim). In a couple of weeks, we will wave good-bye to Nevada, Missouri. I know this in my head, but I don't think my imagination has grasped hold of the fact yet.

There will be time enough to worry about that, though. For now, I'm trying to beat back the chaos upstairs, help Aaron downstairs, continue my two-steps-forward-one-step-back endeavor to educate the children, and enjoy every last long bath in the evenings. I'll also enjoy the moments where my kids get along, use their imaginations, and prove that they can thrive (eventually) in any situation.

The Hands of Jesus - But Ladylike

These hands belong to some of the most amazing women (and one baby boy) on the planet, and the secret is that they're just women. Just moms. Just wives. Just people. They don't pretend to be Superwomen. They would never tell you that they have it all figured out, and everything is easy. But they are amazing, nonetheless.

These are the hands of some of the precious ladies in our homeschool community here in Nevada. Every month we meet together to laugh and cry, to rejoice, pray, and sympathize with each other. We plan field trips together, we share our new curriculum finds, and we ask each other questions about anything and everything.

I wish everyone had a group of people like this that they could turn to for advice and compassion. If we all did, life might not get so overwhelming. This is what communities should be, and used to be at certain places in the space-time continuum. Some of these mothers have 9, 10, or 11 children of their own, some of them have only one or two. They have had vastly different experiences in their lives, yet all come together without judgement or criticism to lift each other up.

The hands in these pictures have hugged, cooked and cleaned, wiped tears, written poetry, bandaged wounds, carried everything under the sun, and even delivered babies. They can accomplish anything, and they made me believe that I could too. There is no job too big for these hands, because each and every one of them is held firmly in the grip of their Savior. There isn't a women in the group who wouldn't tell you that she survives each day because she has a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe.

I will miss these women and all the support they represent. I will miss their encouragement and laughter, and I will miss them when I am afraid, and want to cry on the shoulder of someone else who knows exactly what I'm talking about. They have made me a stronger and more confident mother, and they have taught me more than I could have imagined.

I love you, ladies. You took me in and made me a member of your families in the space of one meeting, and three years later you are still just as wonderful as you were the first time we said, "Hello."

Preliminary Goodbyes

We are still in Missouri, but have already had our big farewell at church. We'll still be attending for these last few weeks, but we've officially handed off our Sunday responsibilities as it is getting more and more difficult to find things on Sunday morning amidst all the boxes and detritus of relocation.

Our farewell service/dinner was a lovely day, and everyone was very kind. We were able to tell the congregation what we'll be doing in the coming months (years?) and why. As always, they were very accepting. My children's church kids gave me flowers and cookies (The cookies may have all been eaten already. No admissions.)Then the church listened to our rambling, sang with us, prayed with us, and ate with us, because food seems to be a natural follow-up to emotional expenditure.

We had a baptism after the service, and it was a perfect picture of our little country church. We all gathered at the Pyle home, where there was a huge green field and a lovely pond, perfect for new life. Our pastor, who is game for anything, waded out into the fish pond, braving the nips of its hungry denizens. He lost a shoe to the cause, but there was no regret in his smile. Anything is worth the knowledge that two more people have decided to tell the world what they believe, and why.

Deerfield Baptist Church was one of the nicest things about living here these last three years. They accepted us into the fold at once, and we knew that we were at home with them. They treated us like family, and we did our best to return their kindness when we had the opportunity.  Of course, some jobs were easier than others.

Teaching children's church was not such a stretch, because I've taught young children since I was myself a child, but being the second-string piano player for this last year has been a challenge I did not know I would be facing. I've enjoyed it very much, although I can't speak for the poor, long-suffering parishoners who had to listen to me stumbling my way through the chords for all the songs I could find in the three keys with which I am familiar.

So many people - friends, neighbors, work colleagues, church family - have blessed our lives these past three years. If I could find a way to honor all of them, I would. As it is, I can only use my words. Thank you, thank you, for all your love and for who you are. God sees your love for others, and others see God's love through you. May you be blessed in the same measure that you have blessed our family.

Boxes of Memories

This weekend was our last big garage sale. It was exhausting, but definitely necessary, and really quite a bit of fun. Set up was tiring, and the pessimist in me always fears that nothing will sell and I'll have to find something to do with all these things I've dragged out of the house and organized. But by Saturday afternoon, we were down to only a few boxes full of rejects, which I'm choosing to call a great success.

Aaron started the weekend with five tables full of tools and other manly odds and ends. We attracted quite a few men, and it was fun to watch them all bargain over things I couldn't explain to you if you paid me. I'm so glad he was home for the sale this time, because I wouldn't have had the slightest clue about ratchets, wrenches, and drills.

We only have one major regret from the experience. We decided to sell Aaron's classical guitar, since the neck is too wide for comfortable chording, and Spanish guitar proficiency is probably not in his future. It was difficult to part with, since it was my wedding gift to him a mere fourteen years ago, but we decided that a musician who would love and care for it was better than letting it languish at home. However, the guitar was purchased by a grandfather (for his grandson, maybe 10 or 11 years old), who handed the guitar over to the child to carry as he walked down the street on his way to more sales. Watching that guitar walk off into the distance in the hands of someone who will probably break it within the next week was heartbreaking.

That being said, though, we felt great about getting rid of so many things that had just built up over time. Some of them were used and then no longer needed, others were purchased because we were just sure they were exactly what we needed, only to discover we were mistaken and overly optimistic about our own industry and creativity. Many of the things were actually used constantly, and loved very much, but just too big/awkward/heavy to put into an RV.

Now it's time to take our sad little leftovers to the thrift store, where they will find loving homes soon, I hope. The books will go to the homeschool library for our friends and future Nevada homeschoolers to use. Several of the items will go to specific friends or family members. (Apparently Nevadans aren't interested in cookbooks about Sushi, Artisan Bread, or Sriracha, for example, but I'm sure we can find someone who would like those.)

This means we're one step closer to launch day, which is still unspecified at this point, but needs to be sometime in the next three or four weeks. It's a bittersweet feeling.

That Time of Year

Even if I didn't have a calender, I'd know that it was a special time of year for our family, because these crazy pink flowers are blooming again. I've heard them called "resurrection lilies," "surprise lilies," and "naked lady lilies." I haven't decided which name is the most official. Everyone has their favorite. Whatever they're called, quite a few of them decorated my wedding cake, and that's what I'll always think about when I see them.

Fourteen years ago today, Aaron and I were married in our church in western Oklahoma. We honeymooned at a nearby lake where a friend let us stay in their little cabin, because as 19 and 20 year old college students, our funds were limited. Very limited. We purchased a 1969 mobile home in Stillwater, and lived in that little trailer for the next three years while we finished school.

Our lives went, more or less, according to our plans at the time. Finish college- get jobs- have kids- live in a bigger house. (Did I mention it was a trailer from the sixties? It really was all that you might imagine from those words.) Little by little, as we went on through our days, weeks, years - our plans changed. Now we find ourselves on the brink of living in something that is even smaller than our first home. It's much smaller, actually.

I wouldn't have believed you if you'd told me about this crazy scheme on a sunny day fourteen years ago, as we ran around the church making sure everything was ready for the afternoon's ceremony. There were relatives to visit, cakes to frost, punch to thaw, lights to check, flowers to pin, friends to hug...So possibly, I wouldn't have even heard you.

But I'd like to think that even then I would've told you exactly what I say now. Aaron is one of the most wonderful men on the planet, and I trust him as much as any human being can reasonably expect to trust any other human being. If he is with me, I'm not worried, period, no matter what we face in the future.

More importantly, I believe that getting out there and doing whatever God sets in front of us to do will be the most rewarding experience we've ever had (you know, bar the birth and raising of our children). No matter what the future holds (and I'm an imaginative pessimist, so if you're worried about it, I probably am too) I will be holding onto the hands of my Savior and my husband. Together we'll figure it out.