Full Bellies, Content Hearts

With just over one week left in Chile, I’m paying attention to the little things, trying not to miss how special this place is: the funny elevator in our apartment building that has a swinging door; the big trees in this neighborhood that offer respite from the sun; the way strangers smile at my children, delighted by any greeting the girls offer. Without a car, we do all of our grocery shopping on foot, which meant that this weekend, I wheeled a watermelon home in a stroller. I also picked up kilos of berries (it is blueberry and cherry season) and spinach that was so fresh and hearty that I couldn’t help but take a second while making dinner to just appreciate it. Chile has an incredible agriculture sector, but what I really love are the small shops selling fruit and veggies every couple of blocks. I go to the same shop almost every day, and the owner and I laugh over the antics of our daughters while lamenting the heat. She keeps my family stocked up on the good stuff while singing along to classic 90s music, and I look forward to popping into her shop on my way home from La Casa Juego.

It was over 90 today, and we continue to appreciate the pool invitations and our nice cool apartment. You know things are going pretty well when your biggest problem of the day is that you need more sunscreen! The dream of Adela making friends and playing in Spanish started to happen at play school, so that has been exciting. Matea is also soaking in the language and now says ‘Ciao’ as she waves goodbye after school. This trip has been like a shot of adrenaline to our Spanish and Jeff and I are motivated to take the momentum we’re building here and try to keep it rolling at home. We have had really interesting conversations with multi-lingual friends about the challenges of navigating language development with kids, recognizing that it is a good challenge to have. For now, Rayna is all about earning more TV time by speaking more Spanish, and I will always credit cartoons for a lot of my children’s fluency!  

The hardest part of this adventure has continued to be trying to keep some semblance of school going for the older girls, and there have been a lot of tears shed as we’ve struggled to agree on how much work needs to get done. I am shocked at my own lack of patience and at how easily I get into fiery disagreements with an 8-year-old. At some point last week, I was advised to lighten up and aim for less schoolwork and more cookies. Chile is a country full of great bakeries and ice cream shops, so in an effort to be more culturally connected, I have followed that wise advice and we are now eating lots more cookies, as well as more bread, in addition to our regular ice cream stops. At this point in the trip, the goal is basically to eat all the good things as frequently as possible.

To that end, we ate amazing fresh fish and I had my daily allotment of pisco sour on the beach with friends last weekend. It was a great getaway and I cannot get over how lucky we are to have local hosts who love to hike and bike and swim, and also have kids around the same age. This last week, it has felt like the years we were gone from Chile are irrelevant, because these friendships are the kind that will span time and distance. That has been the best revelation of this trip and it has my heart brimming over with gratitude. 

Yesterday, we went to a lunch that lasted 5 hours and only ended when we excused ourselves to go to an asado, which is a classic Chilean cookout. I am inspired by the generosity of our friends who have fed us so well, and I look forward to imitating their hosting style when my kids are older and naptime isn’t a factor. I love the way Chileans take their time, and I am taking notes on how they go about truly enjoying their people and their meals.

Other things I’m loving about Santiago right now: watching the sun peek over the Andes on my morning run; watching the World Cup with serious soccer fans; talking politics and learning so much from every conversation; the bread! Oh, and I love seeing the twinkling Christmas lights in the building entryways as the sun bakes the sidewalk and we seek out the shade. It is a strange, wild season and I’m here for all of it. Love!

Back At It In Santiago

A couple of weeks ago, we packed ourselves onto a huge airplane and took the trip back down to Santiago. We reunited with Jeff in Miami after spending a few days with my family in Charlotte, and I was already exhausted before we even started the overnight flight. Unfortunately, the plane was completely full, which meant Matea spent the 7 hours squirming between Jeff’s lap and mine. Jeff didn’t budge from his seat the entire flight because she was mostly perched on him when she finally fell asleep, and I have never been more grateful for my travel partner. We were ready for the discomfort of the trip and it was just as bad as we’d expected.

Fortunately, everything else about our first few days in Chile was better than I’d hoped. The apartment we are renting is much nicer than the ones we used to live in, and it even has an amazing piano Jeff has been playing. We’re an easy walk to the metro, to the park where the girls are doing soccer class, and to the play school where Matea and Adela are currently on the patio singing songs. We found LaCasa Juego (the Play House) through a friend and it is the stuff dreams are made of: a beautiful, huge house full of tons of interesting toys, spaces to climb around, a dress-up closet, art supplies, and the kindness of the Chilean tias. It also has an upstairs for grownups to work from, so I spent a couple of days helping Rayna with her adventure school work while looking out the big windows at the lilac trees lining the street.  This part of Santiago is bursting with green in this last month of Spring, and we are so lucky to be able to enjoy this beautiful season. It has been hot, and we have been so glad to accept invitations to pools while also exploring new ice cream options.

Of course, we haven’t escaped the normal trials of life just because we changed hemispheres. One day last week, all three of my daughters cried profusely because they were frustrated/sad/angry about our situation in Santiago. It was a hard day and I questioned why we were here, but I knew we just had to keep going and hope that the next day was better. Both Adela and Matea had a fever after Thanksgiving, which puts a damper on things, but is almost to be expected as their play school is with a ton of other small kids. And some days, I find the job of being mom, home manager, and teacher overwhelming, and I imagine how nice it would be to have a regular 9-5. These are the same ups and downs we face at home, they’re just a bit magnified here as most things get more intense while traveling.

Jeff is back at his old university, working on research with some of his favorite old colleagues and that’s going really well. It feels so strange, but in many ways, we have just stepped back into our old life. The huge difference is that this trip is only five weeks long, and our life in Tacoma is waiting for us (oh, and we have another child!:). In some ways, this is a perfect picture of the bitter sweetness that flows through so much of life. We are enjoying excessive empanadas, avocados and ice cream, but we miss our people at home. We have been welcomed so warmly by our old friends, but it is hard to know we’ll only see them for a little while before thousands of miles will separate us again. In this unique season, it is a little easier to remember that each day is a gift (which I’ll try to remember today while sweating on the metro). We are only here a few more weeks, which is good reason to make the most out of every day here in Santiago. love!

Please Don’t Call it a Vacation

After a serious hiatus, we are back at the traveling game. Am I getting old or is exploring the world with a toddler just really hard?!  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the opportunity to gather up the passports and fly somewhere cool, but dang, Matea is giving me a run for my money. My littlest lady made sure we never confused this adventure with a vacation, but we’re (mostly) having fun despite the challenges a one and a half year old brings everywhere and anywhere she goes.

After a sweet summer in Tacoma full of swimming, playground dates and backyard meals, we geared up in August to end the summer with a big trip. Our destination was Veracruz, Mexico, where Jeff had been invited to lead workshops at a federal research institute tucked into the cloud forest near the cultural hub of Xalapa. It was a part of Mexico I’d never been to, and after so many years away from this beautiful country, I was curious to explore. First, I had to remember all that traveling with kids requires and we had the added unpleasant experience of having to race to the passport office in Seattle after our passports were stolen from our mailbox.  After clearing that hurdle, we braced ourselves for a long day of travel, which went better than I had expected in that all our flights were on time, we were able to stay fed and hydrated, and we arrived at our destination in one piece and with luggage in tow. Sure, there were tired-toddler screaming fits on the plane, a deluge of screen time, and a dash of customs confusion that could have gone very poorly, but when that first day was over, Jeff and I definitely celebrated the surprise of success. We had landed at a nice hotel in the port city of Veracruz, and the girls enjoyed their very first buffet as they practiced their Spanish with hotel staff and other kids in the pool. Jeff muscled through securing a rental car (yes, we had one reserved, but that somehow meant practically nothing) and then pulled off some legitimately impressive packing to fit our three kids, carseats, a stroller and luggage into an undersized SUV.

For a little over two hours, we navigated the Mexican drive-thru, highways, country roads, and small towns, before finally reaching our rental house outside of the city of Xalapa. Only upon pulling up to the imposing garden gates did we realize we’d failed to make a plan to get the keys from the owner and had no way to get into the mansion we could just see through the leafy gate. Fortunately, the guard in the neighborhood was kind enough to lend us his cell phone and we were able to make a plan that allowed just enough time to seek out smoothies and a little playground time before connecting with the owner of the home we were renting.

And holy cow, what a house. The photos on Air Bnb could not capture the odd beauty of this place, but the highlights include a rainwater fountain running next to the staircase and through the living room, mini doors and surprise windows that led to different places on the roof, and a huge pool house and garden. The architecture is all rounded beams and illogical steps, with modern crashing into natural, and unfortunately, not built with small kids in mind. We enjoyed staying here, even if we had to block off the upstairs landing to avoid someone crashing down 30 feet into the stairwell. And we even got to host a dear college friend and her lovely family, which was a really fun surprise and made having such a big house seem less ridiculous. It was a highlight of the trip to share the pool and wild grandeur of the house with another family, especially as the kids had a ball together and the grownups got to have great beer and conversation.

Since arriving ten days ago, we have eaten so much brunch, seen so many wild bugs, survived one and a half medical emergencies (Matea had a febrile seizure and Jeff had to get a tetanus booster after running into a rusty hook), gone to an incredible anthropology museum, learned how to play crack the bean on the trampoline, found a great brewery, attended a baby shower at said brewery, been bitten by many bugs, and welcomed by many sweet locals. We have checked a lot of the adventure boxes we’d expected, utilized a lot of old skills, connected with wonderful people, and appreciated the beauty of this tiny corner of Mexico. What more could we ask for? Love! Jessie

Milestones

What a year! Our lives, like pretty much everyone’s, were turned upside down by the pandemic. Though we have grown somewhat accustomed to our new rhythm, life is still strange and the losses keep coming. Last week we cancelled our Thanksgiving with friends from Seattle because even our two families gathering was just too much risk in light of all the things. There have been delayed weddings, dream trips dashed, au pair disappointments, and virtual school in place of the real thing. A lot of this year has sucked, even for us, who have a safe home, jobs, and an abundance of everything good. But I want to remember this year not just for the bad, but for the ways we grew as well.

 I continue to work from home most of the week, while Jeff went back to teaching classes in person in August. He also works from home whenever he is not required to be in person and we have done our very best to avoid exposure to COVID-19. Rayna started kindergarten in a Spanish immersion program, and though it is not what we had hoped for her, she is loving school and we have loved seeing her enthusiasm for learning. Adela has not been sick once since February and instead has filled this house with hilarious questions and what-if scenarios, like “What if our house was made out of marshmallows?” Our girls have really loved this season of everyone being home, so over all, it feels like we have been doing pandemic good for a while. The milestones have been exciting…Rayna’s first day of elementary school, Adela learning to use a pedal bike, birthdays and camping trips which we celebrated with gusto.

We welcomed an au pair from Argentina in January, and unfortunately, the pandemic put a really big damper on her experience in the USA. While we took solace in nature and the beauty of Oregon all summer and well into the fall, she struggled with the limited socializing and was not impressed by our small-town life. A couple of weeks ago, we hit another big transition as we said goodbye to Mica as she began her next au pair adventure with a family in New York City. While the experience was challenging for all of us, we really hope she enjoys her time in the big apple and Jeff and I are grateful that we’ve had reliable childcare up to this point.

I hit some pretty big milestones recently as well.  Mid-October marked my one year anniversary at Meadowlark Immigration PC, where I have learned about supporting clients through a myriad of immigration situations. It has been rewarding, frustrating, empowering and very difficult. I am relieved that we will be under a Biden administration starting in January and I am filled with hope of better days ahead for my clients and for our country. These last four years have been brutal for immigrants and those of us that want America to move away from racism and nationalism. While we have incredible barriers of overcome before systemic racism is dismantled, it has been a privilege to stand beside my clients over this last year and ask that they receive the freedom to work, share life with the partner of their choosing, travel with a green card and even become citizens who contribute to our nation’s greatness through their unique experiences.

And the happiest milestone is that I passed through my 28^th week of a pandemic pregnancy, which was monumental because that was the week I was hospitalized during my last pregnancy. I had to process some trauma from that experience and was definitely anxious approaching the benchmark, but so far my cervix is holding strong and our little baby is growing bigger by the day. Jeff and I are so grateful for the gift of another child and while pregnancy is my least-favorite part of parenting, I am hopeful that this baby will stay put longer than her big sis and we will be happy to meet her anytime after Christmas.

It is not lost on me that celebrating milestones is a privilege that many did not have this year. It feels unfair that as we treasured our backyard and took trips to Mt. Hood, other families lost their homes amidst an already devastating economic year. Too many lost their lives to COVID-19 and other tragedies did not take the year off.

As we get ready to celebrate Thanksgiving, I want to reflect on the milestones of this year, acknowledging both the loss and the goodness. I hope you’re able to do the same and wish you all the best at the end of what has been a helluva a year. Love!

Freedom and Fear

What does freedom mean to you? To me, it means living in a place where people have their humanity respected. It means having a common understanding of decency, and the ability to disagree without fearing violent repercussions. Freedom cannot be captured by bearing stars and stripes, it is a concept much bigger than any flag.

What are you afraid of?

Right now, there are so many things to fear. I, for one, am afraid of getting the corona virus. Two people in my household have medical conditions that could lead to terrible consequences if they were infected, so even though many people with young families see their risk as really minimal given what we know about the virus, we are not in that camp.

I’m also afraid because we live in a country were the mistrust of our government is so rampant that people don’t believe the reports and recommendations coming from the Center for Disease Control. But many of those same people believe that Donald Trump tells the truth and calls out misinformation. This is scary to me.

Recently people from all over the world have expressed concern because we live near Portland. I get the sense that people think Portland is a hellhole of violence and terror. But while the 101st night of protests led to small fires and police confrontation last night, I am not afraid of Portland or the protests. I was in Portland a couple of days ago, and I took my time getting back to my office so that I could really see the city. I drove past the federal building where the cement blockades have grafitti on them. I saw the businesses on that block with plywood windows. And I also saw elderly women riding their bikes in the bike lanes. I saw tree filled parks and art installations. I saw solidarity for the Black Lives Matter movement painted in beautiful colors. I did not see a city brimming with violence and hate. I saw a place where people have not given up on the dream of equality.

I write because I know there are some in my small circle of influence who are afraid that our nation will be less safe under democratic leaders and that their freedom is on the line. I don’t imagine that I can convince them to see that under current leadership, our country has destabilized in a way that was almost unimaginable four years ago. I don’t really think they’ll care that there were 417 mass shootings in 2019, the most ever recorded since we began keeping track. I don’t think they’ll believe me when I say we don’t need to fear the protests.

But because I do value freedom, because I do dream of a nation that respects every single person’s humanity, I write anyway. I’ll do what I can to push past my fear and pursue what I know to be good. I will keep learning, keep reading, keep listening. I will try to advocate for my clients who sought to build a life in this nation and I will educate my children so that they will care about justice, mercy and truth. And I will pray for us all, but especially for the hearts of this world who incite hate, who use fear to gain power. I may be afraid, but I will use what freedom I have to move towards love.

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Pivot

When I finished college, I dreamt of entering the Peace Corps. I went through the application process, talked to anyone who would listen about it and was assigned to Tonga, a tiny island in the South Pacific Sea, for my two-year adventure. And then, I received an email informing me that my application had been deferred. As it turned out, my medical exam revealed that I could not PIVOT. That single word, chosen by the knee surgeon who filled out the Peace Corps physical during one of my post-op visits, changed my life.

I’ve been thinking about that word a lot this year. Back in October, when I took a job at a small immigration law firm, the pivot was harsh. I went from a fairly unhurried, mundane stay-at-home mom life to being a re-born baby lawyer who had the huge responsibility of trying to help people win asylum cases. Leaving peaceful Newberg each morning to drive to Portland was a bit of a shock. At home, there was still storytime to attend to, dinner to make, my children to treasure. At work, I heard harrowing stories of people fleeing violence and worked to defend those people against a regime that doesn’t understand American history nor care much for the humanity of people outside of a certain demographic. I jumped back into lawyering like you jump into the deep end of the pool, and it took some time before I remembered how to swim.

A few months later, our youngest daughter had a febrile seizure. This followed right on the heels of a run with influenza B for me and so I was already physically depleted and emotionally wracked with guilt for sharing the virus with my kiddo. When she had her second seizure less than 3 weeks later, I knew it was time to pivot yet again. The shock of your child having a seizure is jarring, whether it is the first or the fifth time you have seen it. Adela’s vulnerability to seizures was obviously high and so Jeff and I made a plan that allowed one of us to be at home every day. This was complicated, as we had just welcomed an au pair from Argentina to watch our kids for the year and it meant that I could no longer meet with clients the majority of the week. But it was what we needed to do to make sure our child was safe, and so we adjusted.

And then, the whole world has had to pivot, as we came to understand what living in a pandemic means. Things that were unimaginable just weeks before have become ordinary. We don’t hug our friends, we don’t eat at restaurants, we wear face masks if we have to go to a store, and we don’t know when this will all be over. I know that for every single person, this has been a season of unprecedented change and for many, a time of incredible grief. It has been overwhelming and confusing, but the truth that keeps arising is that we have to keep going. Stay connected to the ones you love, offer extra kindness anywhere you can and know that you are not alone. The very best metaphor I have heard for the pandemic is that we are all in this storm: for some, it feels like a light rain, actually refreshing; for others, it is more like a thunder and lightning storm, a little scary and jarring; for others, this is like a hurricane, ripping the roof off of their homes and destroying their lives. Wherever you are in the storm, hang on. Praying for peace and safety for you all, with much LOVE, Jessie

Life with magnatiles

Quarantine birthdays

5 going on 14.

Dance parties help.

Social distancing on my bike.

Uncomfortable

Comfort is a luxury.  Sometimes I crave it, but just as often, I can go without  Sometimes this is a choice, like when I decided to become pregnant or when I agreed to move abroad.  Other times it is a sacrifice that comes as naturally as breathing.

Recently I sat down at church with our diaper bag still strapped to my back.  I have grown so accustomed to being a little bit uncomfortable that it took me a few minutes to realize I was sitting on the edge of my seat for no good reason.  I’ve “slept” on so many planes in recent years that the discomfort of air travel is barely noteworthy as we aim for whatever destination we are lucky enough to fly towards.  When I get in a car and the leg room is filled with toys, food, books or boxes, I hardly even notice.  I just wedge my legs and feet into whatever space is available and move on with my life.

It has been a little bit more challenging to get used to the discomfort of having small humans view me as a jungle gym/tree/sleeping spot.  It seems that whenever my girls see me squatting down they instinctively want to climb on me and this only really annoys me when they knock me on my butt or smash my head.  I now cherish when either of my girls wants to snuggle, but it can get uncomfortable as they grow larger and don’t realize they sometimes hurt me with their twisting and flailing.  And then there is a recent habit of Rayna’s that involves pulling up or down on my clothes while we’re at parties or in groups of people.  Yes, it is a very effective way to get my attention, but I continue to explain to her that I am a human and do not want everyone in town to see what she is showing off with her little tugs.  It can be uncomfortable, this whole parenting thing.

But for all the times my face has flashed red in reaction to an awkward moment, I also see the benefit to getting through it.  I am a more patient, gracious person because I have survived nearly five years of parent-struggle-bus ups and downs.  And surviving discomfort definitely makes you stronger.  Last week my niece and I backpacked for four days in the Three Sisters Wilderness in Central Oregon and that first day we were hurting.  My pack felt heavy as it dug into my shoulders and hips and I was nervous we’d get lost in the woods.  But as the days went on and our trip progressed, the discomfort of my body waned as we put more good miles under our boots.  Sure, there were blisters and one fall that could have led to a broken arm, but there were also amazing views, deep conversations, and hours spent taking in natural beauty.  We pushed through our discomfort and by the last day my pack felt pretty light while my heart felt full as we strode down the trail.  To cap off a near perfect trip, we dropped our bags at the car, crossed the road and dove into Three Creeks Lake.  Sure, the water was a little cold, but the relief of swimming through that mountain lake was heavenly.  Sometimes the best things in life are uncomfortable, if only for a little while. Love!

Seasons of Love

I count myself lucky to live in a place where all four seasons make themselves known.  There is something so comforting about the rhythm of the natural world and even though it is unpredictable on a day to day basis, I appreciate that (at least in this part of the USA) in spring there will be rain and flowers, in summer there will be heat and fruit, in fall there will be chilly days and in winter there will be snow.  It is woven into my core, this cycle of seasons, and I didn’t realize how much I loved it until I spent years living in the southern hemisphere where “spring” meant trees losing their leaves and Christmas was in the blaze of summer.

My understanding of seasons is more nuanced now.  I try to embrace them as they come, knowing that there will probably be unexpected twists and turns.  Learning this has helped me navigate seasons across my life, especially in marriage and parenting.  Right now, Jeff and I are in a season of strain, not because of our relationship, but because of our circumstances.  He is travelling a crazy amount for work and instead of holding down the home front while he flies all over the globe, I’ve planned a matching series of trips stateside.  He has to fly much further, but I will have more luggage, as well as two small humans to manage.  Both of us appreciate what the other is doing, but we are necessarily having to do these things solo.  As someone who thrives on a team, this is really hard for me, but it is what it is.  Instead of letting this season take me down, I have decided to lean on my friends and family to help me through.  A dear friend and I drove to Central Oregon to explore the Bend area as well as Crater Lake Naional Park during Jeff’s last trip to Africa.  We drove to up to Seattle for a sleepover at Tia Lynn’s and have made sure to see our Newberg people as much as possible.  When he flew to Peru two weeks ago, I packed up the girls and we went to Lake George for a week.  Though I got hit by a sinus infection that kept me out of the water, the girls were in heaven between the dock fun and the cousin love.  And in July we’ll head to Colorado for an extended visit while Jeff does one last circle of the globe.  I don’t want to sugar coat this.  It has been really hard.  Adela isn’t as flexible of a traveler as her big sister, which is a dynamic that took me by surprise.  Being away and being home both come with real challenges when I’m the only parent and I’m really worn out.  But this is just a season and we are trying to make the most of it, even though it is the opposite of ideal to be spending so much time apart.

Recognizing seasons and their come-and-go nature has also helped me calm down as a parent.  Someone told us when Rayna was a newborn that in parenting, when things are really bad, just hang on, because they will get better; but also, when things are really going well, hang on, because that can only last so long.  And it is SO true!  There have been seasons where my eldest daughter and I just did not get along.  She was learning how to speak/assert herself and I was learning how to listen/let her be who she is, and it got ugly at times.  Thankfully, we have come out of that season and she now speaks fluently and I think she is wonderful, even if she is not at all the child I expected to be raising.  Just as Rayna and I came to a peace treaty, Adela’s two-year-old-nature entered the scene and now my tiny, sweet girl can turn into a furious, screaming tyrant at the drop of a hat.  In the last couple of weeks, she has dissolved into angry tears because she did not like the milk cup I offered her, because the banana she was holding broke, and because I asked her to put a shirt on.  And so it goes.  This season is challenging and I know we will weather it fine, as long as I can find a better hiding spot for the sharpie markers and convince her to let me put her PJs on backwards.

Just like the seasons in my garden, there will be growing and draining, fruit and weeds, even death and resurrection in this life.  I’ll take all of it, every single day.  Because beneath all of the chaos and strain, separation and travel, these are seasons of love. XOXO, Jessie

Dreams

I wasn’t raised to talk about or think much about dreams.  Growing up, we usually did what was practical and expected rather than things that were whimsical or brave.  School, sports, appropriate friendships and relationships, more school; these were the things we focused on.  However, underneath this “typical” shell there was an appreciation for adventure that my parents naturally cultivated.  The idea that you could veer off course and still find your way was planted like a seed in me, and though I set my sights on traditional goals, I also paid attention to off-the beaten-path options.  Somewhere between a road trip to Alaska, an Air Force tour in Germany, and hiking a few miles of the Appalachian trail with my dad, dreams began to take root.  Some were just quiet whispers…thoughts I can remember now but I never spoke out loud.  Some were more concrete, like living abroad or doing a job that really helped in some way.  There have been times in life when I’ve talked about my dreams with friends, musing about where I’d like to travel or who I’d like to marry.  But the other dreams, the most beautiful ones, were too precious to put any weight on.  If I said them out loud, they could be crushed by expectation and so I thought about them but then let them go.  I wouldn’t have admitted them, not even to my best friends, but there they were, deep inside of me.  Some didn’t stick, but I specifically recall sweet, fleeting dreams of having daughters and of growing things in a garden.  It wasn’t that these were bizarre aspirations, it was just that I had no idea how or if they would ever come to pass.

A couple of weeks ago, as I watched Rayna and Della dig and sort rocks in our backyard, I was awestruck.  My secret dreams, the ones I hadn’t even let myself really hope for, had come true.  My life now includes plants I am watching bud and blossom, watering and nurturing as I rake and clip and gather.  And I am chasing and raising these girls, so wonderful and wild as they hold a world of possibility in their little frames.  I didn’t work these things into being…they are gifts, pure and simple.  My gratitude deepened as I allowed myself to really see how amazing a garden and children can be.  Both require a tremendous amount of work, and I probably complain too much about the weeds and the defiance I face daily.  But I love it a whole lot too.  My life is not at all how I’d planned it, but when I take time to appreciate how I spend my days, I realize it is the one I should have hoped for.

And while all this goodness has been taking root, some of my big dreams have had to change.  There was a long time when I wanted a partnership that was the opposite of traditional, one where my husband and I shared in everything equally.  I never imagined being a stay-at-home-mom or being the person responsible for the nitty gritty of running a household.  I had grand aspirations of professional success and assumed a family would just have to fit in around those aims.   Instead of fighting for justice in the courtroom, the path I have chosen with Jeff has led to my fanciest title being “home manager” and my greatest accomplishment many days is getting the laundry folded.  I stepped off the lawyer track and it took a long time to be okay with that, even though it was my decision.  I clung to the old version of my dreams, sometimes dissapointed in myself for not defending them more aggressively.  But time has taught me that it healthy for dreams to change, that my worth is not determined by how many cases I carry or how much money I bring in.  I spent this last year settling into our Oregon life, connecting to a new community while treasuring my family and this home.  And it turns out that for me, that is the dream.

I’m approaching a new season with a return to lawyer work on the horizon, and of course, that will bring huge changes.  Instead of planning how I’ll achieve everything I hope to do, I’m trusting that the things I hope for will someday come to fruition if I just hang on to my faith and my gratitude.   Just like in a garden, there are different stages in this growing life and each have such value.  Here’s to embracing each one in its time.

Love!!!

 

Books

I have always been a book nut.  I don’t remember learning to read, but I do remember the thrill of visits to the library in elementary school.  I was the kid you’d catch walking down the aisle of the school bus reading, totally engrossed in whatever story had me captured for the day.  Though there have been seasons of my life when reading wasn’t just for fun (hello law school), I have always loved it.  In books, I have been challenged, comforted and tangled into the stories of a thousand different characters.  Books have been my teachers, my escape and a connecting force.  In recent years, I’ve collected more books than any other season.  I love to write in books, I’ve learned the value of owning children’s books I can sanely read over and over and I wholey reject minimalism only in regards to books.  Our house is constantly littered with them, some in stacks, some in bins, usually some splayed out on the floor, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the last decade, I have discovered the beauty of the book club.  As friends, books, and snacks are some of my very favorite things, the combination of all three has been a consistent joy in my life.  One book club was full of whip-smart women who left law reading behind for everything from obscure westerns to Malcolm Gladwell.  While I didn’t actually dive into some of the most high-brow intellectual selections, I loved how each meeting was a mini-reunion.  The next book club was a dream full of international opinions, free access to books and a built in parenting-support component.  Also fairly described as a wine club, it was often the high social point of my month and every meeting was filled with laughter, great questions, and the sharing of ideas (sometimes based on the book and sometimes just on our life experiences).  Now, I’m part of a book club that is digging into classics that are heavier than anything I’ve tackled before (I’m currnely reading Middlemarch which I had never heard of before) and because of the leadership and engagement, it has been awesome.  My brain and my faith are stretching, which is such an unexpected book club benefit.  To me, these hours discussing books while pouring into friendships are a luxury I’m so grateful for.

And isn’t it amazing that we now have access to more books than we can even imagine?  I recognize the privilege of being able to borrow and buy books and I don’t take this for granted.  In Santiago our local library’s entire children section was smaller than our neighborhood library’s Spanish section for kids.  A trip to the library is a delight and I am actively encouraging Rayna to consider a career that would allow her to work there.  Here in Newberg, the librarians are very cool; they are the local celebrities I’d most like to invite to brunch.

Reading can be so many things: an adventure, a lesson, an inspiration.  A friend once said she was most proud of the fact that her sons loved books.  I get that.  When my daughters want to take books to bed, or snuggle into a lap, or bring 24 home from the library, my heart can’t help but fill up with joy.  The most magical things is that books can inspire curiosity and a love of learning that lasts forever.  As I continue my reading journey, I’m genuinely excited for all there is to learn and encounter.  Love!!!