Hundreds of Houses

It's been 9 weeks since we left California, and I didn't realize that all this time of traveling would feel like one, big long transition. We have a house waiting for us in Vancouver August 10, but we have three more places to stay (including this one) before we get there. We have visited and visited and visited people, too many in fact - not one person I would have wanted to leave out, just - we've done too much.

We arrived at this quiet house by a tiny lake on Vancouver Island a couple of days ago and we have been trying to rest and for the most part we have done well. The weather since we have arrived back in Canada has been mostly cold and grey, which, considering it is "summer" has been a struggle, but I am choosing to put my faith in August and September, who always come through for me on this grey wet coast, but damn, it has been hard to leave the sun. It makes me want to put my head through a window some days.

I have also been doing a dance with reflection. When I have a quiet moment alone I seem to have a habit of usually evaluating the past or planning for the future. I struggle often with simply resting in the "now", and usually have a degree of guilt at the lack of silent, focused time with God. Yet I have been challenged in that this week by a meditation I read in the Mosaic bible, a gift from our friends Jamie and Kim. I am trying this week in my quiet moments to resist any feeling of guilt that I should be writing in my journal profound thoughts of reflection, or seeking a new word from God. I am very much enjoying reading a great book called "French Women Don't Get Fat." and spending time with just us.

I have been trying to figure out what I want to do in the few quiet moments to myself (vacation with 3 small kids is still life with 3 small kids) and trying to listen to my body and spirit. I been fighting the temptation to be discouraged at how our busy schedule and the terrible weather have limited me in the amount I have been running. I'm believing that running and fitness is something I now own, and it is not so elusive that it will escape again. Pax and I did run and walk (well, he sat in the stroller:) 5K around the lake yesterday, and it felt great, and it also felt OK that I didn't want to go today and the sun came out for a while, and it really helped.

I also haven't needed to sit and write in my journal because coming back to Canada and visiting with so many people has caused us to tell our story over and over again. Yet with a few wonderful exceptions of people who want to know every detail, I find that there is a need in me to make our story short and sweet and in a neat bundle that simply says "We're okay - see how good we are? Look how great we are!" Which is not untrue. We are, in fact, pretty good. But I felt better in California. We were settled there and the sun shone nearly every day, and we were really, really in love with our friends there. Coming back to Canada is hard work. And I don't want to say that to anyone in person because I love them, and I want them to be happy and not cause anyone any pain. The truth is we are doing the very best we can, but we're just guessing as to how to do life as much as the next family.

I recently had a visit with a friend who grew up in YWAM who said she had a list in her head of "The Things I Promised Myself I Would Never Do To My Kids." I asked her what was on the list and then Pax fell and broke his arm. So, needless to say, I never heard the list. Wade says not to ask again, that it would not be helpful to know, and that we are Sophia and Eleanor and Pax's parents, that we ultimately do know what's best for them, and the best we can do for them is to obey God as best we understand. Yet I wonder how they will reflect on their lives when they're older and in my worst moments I think "How can we know?" What random moment of the day could be defining for them, will shape them for better or worse, or just flutter in to oblivion. That would be the case no matter what our lifestyle I suppose, yet this life of late brings all too much reflection at times, I fear.

Sophia said today that if she wrote a book like our friend Heidi, she wouldn't call it "Home Keeps Moving" she would call her book, "Hundreds of Houses." We moved into this house this week and it is huge and beautiful. Sophia came to me and said, "I love this house. When I am here, I feel like I have a regular life." And I breathed a small sigh of relief. Within an hour Eleanor came to me and said, "This house is way to big for our small family." So... really it's such a crap shoot. I have no idea what's going to work and what's not. All I know is that tonight at dinner our small family sat in this big house and laughed over stupid jokes we made up about tree houses and having rapper names (2Kron) and pretending to have the super power to roast marshmallows with our eyes. Even Pax tried it, he was hilarious. It is a good life with this small family in this big house by this small lake. Selah.