Our trip to the Pacific Northwest

It's been nearly a month since we have arrived home from our 2 week adventure to the Pacific Northwest and Banff, Canada with our three children (7,5,2).  I had originally planned to furiously edit these photos and write all about it immediately but it was too sacred.  I truly have needed to just sit and processes before having the words.  

I keep comparing this trip to labor and childbirth.  It is powerful and wonderful and sacred and yet it is something you do NOT want to do again or think about doing again immediately following.   Give yourself a few weeks and suddenly you'll remember so fondly something that was so hard and painful. 

I know you saw the pictures on Instagram.  The beautiful mountains and the rocky coasts, my children dressed in adorable mismatched clothes and boots.  I know it looked picturesque and maybe even sent a pang of jealousy into the pit of your stomach.  Even though I tried to keep it real with several posts of crying car rides, that did not even scratch the surface of how hard this trip was.  

As hard and painful as this trip was, it was equally needed and healing.  

Our children are very similar to feral animals.  They run and play in the open air and the second you put them inside they go crazy.  So more than 3,000 miles traveled via car was hard for everyone.   Having just received a concrete diagnosis for our oldest of Severe ADHD/ODD a few weeks before the trip, and trying out some medications and new dietary restrictions for him, it just really added to the painfulness of it all.  

For every moment of pain there was a tiny glance or hand hold or a pause and a drawing in.  

You see, ever since our precious first born was born and something was "off" with him, I feel like I've started separating from Noah.  Because when it gets hard...or stays hard all the time, it's just so much easier to go off on your own, lick your wounds and return to try again.  

The hard part, the hardest part is drawing in.  It's not pretty.  It's not idilic picnics on the beach and romantic gestures, it's standing firm, it's lifting one another when they are too weary to go on.  There was a lot of awkward and painful moments on this beauty filled trip.  Too many times to count I was just paralyzed with fear of how to move on, how to address one more hungry child who was tired, how to calm Barclay down after another fit, how to dig deep down and give grace to my husband.  We were stuck together for two weeks and we did it.  We grew and we healed a bit.  

I feel so unworthy to be the mama of this tribe.  I feel so ill equipped, so lacking in patience, so childlike myself.  But grace is daily extended to me and it is restoring me.  

I can see the beauty here, in this family of mine.  This gift of people that are my people.  Every one precious and unique and wonderfully made for a purpose.  

sometimes it hurts

sometimes it hurts when wiggly teeth come out

sometimes it hurts to nurse your sweaty baby and know it could be the last

sometimes it hurts to be so tired and weary that it feels like you can’t take another step

sometimes it hurts to look back weeks later and ache at the love

sometimes it hurts when you love your baby so much but can’t stop his tears

sometimes it hurts to watch him climb higher and higher without you

sometimes it hurts to not be able to be with your love because a million tiny things keep you busy-important things

sometimes it hurts to see your baby’s cautious steps and know that next year she’ll be sure footed

sometimes it hurts to see your child covered in dirt and happier than he has ever been

sometimes it hurts to watch everyone you love from a distance and know that tomorrow isn’t promised

sometimes it hurts to breathe because love fills your heart

sometimes it hurts to push through crying and whining and packing and so many other unpleasant things

but it always is worth it to be together

sometimes I think hurt must be love

that ache so deep for things to be frozen so you can drink in one more moment of that time in life

Fondly remembering this little trip we took in May to celebrate our 11 year anniversary.  It was the time that Lucy had an ear ache and Barclay’s tooth almost fell out.  It was a time of pausing-even if just for a day.  It was a time when my love for Noah had never been stronger and his beard had never been fuller.  It was a time when Sullivan dug for hours in dirt without saying a word.  It was a time when my body and soul was so weary that I just sat and watched from afar with tears falling.  

My family.  

My family.  

This day breathed life back into me.  Every day we adventure together does.     

a lament of hope

I would say my ideal social situation is hanging out with 3-8 people where my voice can be heard and where, frankly, I am often the center of attention.

Situations I often find myself in and which I don't necessarily love is when I am one in a crowd of voices.  I tend to retreat and push down my feelings because I don't feel like anyone cares what I have to say. 

This week my social media was flooded with brilliant words and thoughts on the shootings this week.  And a LOT of people just lamenting how things are. 

I just retreated because in a sea of voices, who cares about mine?

And then in church this morning our friend and pastor asked God to forgive our apathy and then proceeded to pray for each victim and their families by name.  Big wet tears dripped into my lap.

I don't have the right words and I feel like I'm flooded with unjust killings every single day, so it's easy to retreat and let other voices do the talking.  

What else can I do?!  Black lives not only matter to me but they enrich my life! I kind of want to jump up and down and say "It's not me!  It's not me!"  But yet my friends are posting about their husbands being thrown down to the ground unjustly and not feeling safe when they drive.  My eyes are opened to thought patterns outside of my own.  And I can't do anything but love those around me and teach my children to do the same.    

On the flip side, my sister, who I guard like a mama bear, is a wonderful cop who feels the tension rising each day she goes to work.  I want her to be able to do her job AND return to her daughter after each shift.  The emotions of these senseless killings have spread like wildfire and it makes me fear for her life.       

I think I am not and never will be surprised by the disregard for life  or the evils in the hearts of others...and especially evil in my own heart.  It is how it always has been and will continue to be until heaven comes to earth.  

Why do people around the world run to the edge of the ocean with their toes dipped in and stare out at the vastness.  

It's because it declares the glory of God and gives a glimpse into a time when for eternity, peace and love will flow.

Why is my beloved forrest being overrun with thousands of people walking to the edge of a mountain and letting their heart be opened to the smallness of themselves?

It's because it declares the glory of God and points to His powerful love and his caring for each of His children no matter what their color or job.

Why do I run to the river every time I can't think or when my heart is sad? Standing there at the edge with my toes in freezing cold water and the rushing current washing away the groans and hurts of my heart?

It's because it declares the glory of God and for a moment reminds me that this, this tumultuous life full of painful decisions and sick friends and unjust killings is not how it is supposed to be.  

God is grieved.  His wrath for the unjust evil in the world is just how you want a father to react. 

So until then I will keep singing and praying these words to my favorite hymn, 

"Tune my heart to sing thy grace"

I want to be so bound to the heart of God that His grace comes out of me.  Grace for people who are blinded to their own evil.  Grace for those who act out of fear and not love.  

So if you see me by the ocean or on top of a mountain with my arms outstretched and tears streaming down my face, come up next to me dear sister and brother and grab onto my hand and weep with me and hope with me.