Lightening Bugs and Moving Boxes.

Last night the lightening bugs were out in full force in my back yard swallowing me in memories of my childhood. Little me would chase them around in the hopes of putting them in a jar beside my bed so I could watch them as I fell asleep.

As I walked back into the house, smiling at my memories, I was struck by how fast this new place has become home. Oh, I am still unpacking boxes -- our painters are still working in the upstairs and so not only are boxes waiting to be sorted, I have had to undo the bulk of what I had already done. (If you read that with a tad bit of frustration, you read it perfectly! ;) ) But the downstairs is almost exactly like I want it and that is where we live. We have established our dinner routine -- everyone has their spot at the table. We have figured out our favorite cozy spots for watching TV as a family at night. And I have even started cooking in the kitchen and can do so almost exclusively without having to search for things!

Deep deep sigh.

Breakfast nook -- with a barn door my Grandaddy built.

It's amazing that the movers just pulled away from our curb four weeks ago today. (Except the truck that has all our outdoor furniture which is just sitting somewhere NOT making it to me....but that is a completely different story.)

Our keeping room!

In those last weeks before leaving our Mississippi home, I would wander through the house turning off lights and locking doors before heading to bed every night. Even though we have moved several times in our marriage, and even though I have had to make more than a couple houses feel like home, I worried during those evening walk-throughs that this time would be different. I was worried that leaving Mississippi might break me this time -- a bit less young than I was when I left her in 1991.

But here's the thing, and it is not just a cliche, home is what pulls us, draws us, comforts us. And home...well home is where my people are. Period.

I am in love with the blue on my dining room walls.

The last year living with Wade in one state and me in another was lonely and hard and just really awful. And yet, it probably prepared us to make the move because as hard as leaving friends, proximity to my Mama, and all the known was....everything is better when we are together.

Just to keep it real -- we have no bedroom furniture and...
I am using a moving box as a bedside table. Design at its best! :)

And so, even if I haven't found people to gather here yet -- I am breathing deeply and thanking God for an ability to acclimate, to flex, to hammer the nails and hang the pictures, to take whatever walls we have and make them our home.

Just tell me whether to dip or not.

We are still visiting churches. There are a million reasons. A dozen excuses. But the bottom line is that we still haven't found a place to fit -- and frankly now that we are moving it is harder than ever to make the effort to plug in short term.

So we found ourselves visiting yet another.

I sat in the pew -- all the way at the back of the church because oh man, we get tired of being conspicuous looking for a place to park the wheelchair -- and thought about the beauty of belonging. There is nothing quite as wonderful as being embraced by loved ones as you prepare to worship together. I used to be the last one out of my home church, only leaving after I had hugged everyone around. 

It has been a long long time since I felt that sense of belonging in a sanctuary. It has been a long time since I was the last person to leave.  But oh how I long for that sense of being with loved ones in a common worship.

So when the pastor called us forward for communion, I was ready. What better way to belong than to come to the table and accept the bread as the body of Christ, and the wine, as Jesus' blood.

We went forward pew by pew. I hung back with Benjamin as the rest of our family -- and the rest of the pew -- went forward. Benjamin was having some anxiety as he drove to the front of the church. Though he has no idea what triggers this -- it wasn't the first time a church sanctuary has been a problem. (Just one of the reasons we struggle to find a "home.") I selfishly wanted us to participate in communion but was getting nervous that he would not be able to, so as we went forward to the altar for our turn, I was also my own-brand of anxious. One of the pastors handed me the bread -- a piece for me and a piece for Benjamin. I bowed over it and placed mine in my mouth and his in his. Dear pastor leaned forward and whispered that she would give me another piece so that we could dip it in the wine.

Dip it.

Oh yes.

I tried to smile as I whispered we were accustomed to doing it separately.

She smiled and said she should have explained.

She handed me a second piece. And then she took another piece and dipped it for Benjamin and handed it to me.

As I turned to put it in Benjamin's mouth he shook his head and his eyes met mine with a panicked-look. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't do it again in front of everyone. I quickly placed his wine-soaked piece of break into my own mouth. And as reverently as possible, stood and tried to help him back to our pew in the back of the sanctuary. As I climbed over him to my own seat, I realized MY bread was still clutched in my fist, never having been dipped. I didn't know what to do so I threw it in my mouth.

(In an effort to make light, I assured the kids that I was too full from communion to eat after church!)

And though the pastor was kind and gracious with me, with us, nothing could have left me feeling less like I belonged than not knowing the nuances of how to take communion with this community.

Finding a place, finding a people is not for the faint of heart. Those of us who move around in the course of our life, have to find people, leave people, and find people again. And as we enter this weird season of transition -- of having one foot here and one there and flying back and forth -- I fear belonging might be a bit of a challenge. (In case you missed it...I am talking about our move here.) 

But this weekend my mother began telling the kids stories of our time in Germany -- she and a itty-bitty one-year-old me moved to Germany to be with my Dad when he was stationed there during the Vietnam War. She told about carrying me on the bus to do hair on the Army base. 

Kids: "Who kept Mom, Grammy?"

My Mother: "Keep her? She went with me and just played with the kids on the base."

My mom and her itty-bitty side-kick!

She told story after story. And always, I was there, fitting in as I must, making friends with strangers some who spoke English, some who spoke German. It was such a God-moment for me as I heard in her stories God's reminder that He has been preparing me for all these moves -- for meeting new people, for finding my place, since I was itty-bitty.

It isn't magic. We have been here two plus years and don't have that church, that community where I am the last one to leave. We don't have a place where people are accustomed to seeing our family and don't gawk -- even the kindest stares feel like gawking. That place where we know whether to dip our communion bread or not...

But we will press through. We will keep looking for our place here -- even temporarily -- and we will be ready to look again once we are all moved. We won't be perfect. There will be some days where the effort outweighs the need for community. We will celebrate in those who have embraced us here and do our best to love them well.

And one day, one day, when we find that safe place to worship in a community that loves us and allows us to love them, we will do our best to make sure others feel that they belong. I'll even show them how to take communion.

And I'll be the last one to leave the sanctuary. The very last one.

Change.

"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future." John F. Kennedy

Green Hills Grille was an amazing decision-making spot. Some might think it was just a restaurant in Huntsville, Alabama. But for Wade and I, it was a haven, a place where we could focus on each other and the myriad of decisions facing our young newlywed-selfs. (It is not lost on me that part of the haven was most certainly the fact that by being in a restaurant, we were away from our computer, our phone, TV, etc. Today that is not the case....is it?)

When I was considering a job change, we found our booth, ordered our favorites (I still dream about the way they diced the cucumber for their salads.), and went through the pros and cons of leaving a job that required me driving to a neighboring city every day for one that would require me giving up some of my writing dreams (temporarily).

When he was contemplating going back to school in order to take the MCAT and apply for Medical School, we discussed the ramifications over dinner at Green Hills Grille.

And when the time came to accept admission to medical school, we weighed the pros and cons of each choice right there in that same restaurant.

If we still lived in Huntsville, and if the restaurant is still there (Google can find one in Nashville but has conflicting information pertaining to Huntsville.), Wade and I would have spent hours and hours there of late.

Ultimately, the decision-making wasn't really that hard. As a family, we believe our role is to make the world better for children with Cerebral Palsy. As such, we have decided that Wade will accept an incredible opportunity at the A.I. DuPont Children's Hospital in Wilmington, Delaware. He will be taking over from one of his mentors and one of the leading experts in the field, Dr. Freeman Miller, who is ready to retire.

And yet, there was certainly a con list, as with any decision. And leaving our beloved Mississippi will be hard. I am so grateful for this season here where I could become reacquainted with some dear friends, have my mama a mere three-hour drive away,  and enjoy having my college-kids almost within arms' reach.

We covet your prayers for the transition -- Wade will begin after the first of the year, but the kids and I will stay in Mississippi until the triplets finish college. There will be a lot of airports, commutes, and no doubt tears, in our future.

If you need me, I'll be here, searching the internet for a Delaware house with a front porch -- I can bring my own sweet tea!

Deep Roots and Empty Mailboxes

The little boy was prodded down the street by his father. When he reached my mother-in-law he wouldn't make eye contact.

"I'm sorry I took your package," he said, shuffling his feet.

My MIL, Marsha, had no idea what he was talking about and looked to the father for an explanation. Apparently the son was part of a club in the neighborhood. The club decided that for initiation each member had to steal something from someone's mailbox. This young boy had taken a package from Marsha, a package I mailed her more than eight months ago. Hidden in his closet, the package was discovered by his mother when she was cleaning out for the upcoming holidays.

The maybe-9-year-old little boy handed the package to Marsha and she opened it to find the triplets' senior portraits and a hat crocheted by me. She didn't know how to react.

I did. My righteously-indignant self reacted first: How dare he? I crocheted that hat as a gift and the triplets' senior pictures were a big deal after all. Big deal gifts that I had mailed to my mother-in-law more than eight months ago! (And anyone who knows me knows that just the fact that I MAILED something is a big deal -- getting things to the mailbox is not my strong suit.) Eight months. Oh, I could help the Mother clean out his closet -- I would clean out that closet.

My rule-abiding self reacted next: Does he know he broke the law? I mean seriously. The. Law.

But about the time I was ready to lock the poor child up, my broken self reacted. Oh, this poor child, this poor little boy willing to do whatever it takes to fit in, to find a group to call his own.

And I wanted to wrap my arms around him and give him a great big hug. Or at the very least smile at him and say I get it. I really get it.

Because this finding a place to belong thing is hard. It is more than hard: it is a challenge that rules so much of how we behave and so many of the choices we make.

You know we moved across country this summer, leaving everything my youngest had ever known as home and the place the rest of us have called home for a decade. My Little Red put the sticker for her new school on the back of our van weeks before her first day of school. My Claire's wardrobe was filled with t-shirts for Mississippi College at least two months before orientation. And I separate Mason's clothes into darks and purples because so much of his wardrobe is Millsaps-related these days.

The need to belong is strong. And even though they probably didn't even realize it, my children were finding their place, establishing that they belong somewhere in their new home state, their new home town.

I am blessed to have many of my friends from college and even childhood living here. I have reunited with dear dear friends and met several new ones. And yet, I feel the longing to be a part of the group, to be immersed, entrenched, intertwined in relationship that goes beyond the weather and the latest sports news. I want to know where I belong.

Little boy in my MIL's neighborhood thought he had found a quick fix to belonging. He thought in his 9-year-old mind that accepting the right of initiation meant he was in, he was a part of something bigger than himself. 

But the truth is that building relationships and finding a place takes time. It takes energy. It takes an investment of time. When one moves as often as I have had to for our career path, it is easier to lay shallow roots so they can be ripped up easily and replanted. But to belong, the roots need to go deeper. They might hurt a little. And there is no quick fix to digging them deep enough.

So I am here. I am laying roots. I am digging deep.

Maybe I should crochet a shovel.

Match Day

Friday was Match Day for medical students all over the country. It has been 13 years since our Match Day and still my stomach turned over just thinking of all the men, women and families whose future was affected by Friday's match.

In case you are unfamiliar with the process: During a student's 4th year (final) of medical school he (of course or she...) interviews for residency positions all over the country. The student then ranks his choices by preference. The schools rank the students by their own preference. Then a big computer program matches the whole thing together. On Match Day, the students receive an envelope telling them exactly where they "matched" -- where they will spend the next few years doing residency training.

We had three almost-two-year-olds on Wade's Match Day. The ceremony was held in a huge auditorium at the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. We had to enter through the front of the classroom because our double stroller could not go down the stairs -- we didn't have wheelchairs yet with these littles.

That amazing group of students gave us a standing ovation when we walked in -- oh, not for me...or even Wade, but for Benjamin, Mason and Claire! It was just the first of that special day.

Ranking programs had been so hard for us. We loved the staff at the University of Chicago -- and knew they loved Wade. But we were also praying about moving closer to home -- and Wade had interviewed all over the South. Then, there was Mayo -- Mayo was THE residency for Orthopedic Surgery and we had spent some weeks there during Wade's medical school rotations.

As we ranked, I was so torn. I wanted to be close to home....but I had honestly LOVED Rochester, Minnesota and Wade and I felt led to place Mayo at the top of our match list.

Words can not even explain the anxiousness associated with those weeks prior to Match Day. We would rest in our prayers...then quickly bring the worries, the what-ifs, the wonders back into our laps. 

So when we walked into the auditorium and the class cheered -- it warmed our heart and settled our nerves. We looked at all those amazing faces -- all in the same boat as we were -- and felt such affection for the family  we had built there....and such assurance that God would give us just that sort of family wherever we "matched"!

Dr. Dad and his crew on Match Day 1999. Benjamin is in his lap, clutching our Match Letter!

I can still feel the excitement when Wade opened the envelope. His face erupted in a huge smile as he passed it to me. I am certain he saw the actual words: Mayo Clinic, Rochester, MN. I, however, saw the words: green grass, house, backyard. Oh, we were so excited.

Our five years of residency in Rochester, MN were an absolute blessing. My prayer this weekend is that the students who received their match letters on Friday are as thrilled as we were...that God will bless all their preparations and calm their worries of the unknown.

Works in progress

We are in the middle of some seriously big projects around here. It is exciting to watch our swimming pool being built in the backyard. When we moved in there was just dirt. We were able to sit and watch while they dug the hole, shaped it, and place the rebar that holds the shape. It has been a fascinating process.

The coolest part so far had to be when they "blew" the concrete. Sadly, they draped the pool -- I guess they didn't want concrete ALL over the backyard -- so we had to sneak out to watch. But it was fascinating to see the concrete turn what moments earlier had been a dirt hole into a....ok...I can't help myself....they turned it into a cement pond! So very cool!

They are still out there working...but now that the concrete is in place you can totally tell it is a swimming pool and we are eager eager to take our first swim!

But the pool is not the only work in progress around here. Benjamin and Claire have begun the road to straighter teeth -- and brighter smiles! (Do I sound like an ad for the orthodontist yet?)

Last week they received expanders...oh my. These little metal pieces are wedged into the roof of their respective mouths and I get to "crank" them every night to open them further. It seems a bit like some medieval method of torture, but they assure me the worst part is the inability to speak and chew normally NOT when I turn the crank. Whew.

With all the progress being made around here, even sweet Cate has gotten in on the act. She loves school and always wants more and more to do...getting upset if she is finished before her "big kids" are....so I gave her a coloring assignment last week...and would you look what she did:

She colored in the lines. In. The. Lines. (And wrote her sweet little name!) I must confess this made me a bit weepy...but I am proud of that little 4 year old nonetheless.

But perhaps the biggest work in progress was evident Thursday afternoon when Benjamin had his x-rays to check the status of his hips. In January the x-rays showed that the right leg had not healed and the doctor scheduled Benjamin for a second surgery pending the March x-rays.

There was a chance -- a hope -- that by now the leg would have begun healing but no one was extremely hopeful.

And yet, Benjamin was committed to praying boldly. I joined him. We prayed at night and even while I knew in my heart that God COULD absolutely do it...my Mommy-heart desperately wanted to protect my boy from a disappointment in faith and so I was preparing him for what everyone kept saying was inevitable -- surgery.

But on Thursday, a marvelous thing happened. Benjamin's x-rays showed healing...bone is definitely forming and he does not require surgery!!

And so as we left the doctor's office, my dear boy looked at me -- at ME, the Mommy -- and said, "Mommy, I hate to say I told you so but I told you God would do it."

See, even with all the pool stuff, teeth stuff, little-girls-growing-up stuff, and bone-healing stuff, I am still the biggest work in progress. Thank goodness for the blessing of a God who knows that and loves me anyway!

Finding our HOME

My frantic need to unpack, settle, orient, and get this new HOUSE feeling like HOME has taken over. It is hard to sleep, sit, or even think if I don't have a cardboard box in hand, pulling items out. (Not so easy to do while sleeping, mind you!)

But be assured, we are getting settled and though there are no window coverings (hello world!) and I haven't found a whole box that is missing in my kitchen...I DID find the coffee pot, we have our toothbrushes, and all is well! Cause you know....coffee and clean teeth...well, those are big blessings!

Have a great week, ya'll!

Moving...

The moving was supposed to be easy. Two full weeks to load, carry to the new house and put everything in its proper place. Two full weeks. Then the big truck would come, the men would load the big furniture and move it over and I would be waiting to arrange, decorate and make it a home.

But that is not how it happened. Wade and I should know better than to plan -- we are both BIG planners and like to have complete control of situations. Do ya'll remember how that has worked out for us?

We planned to have our first child while he was in med school and I was working on my masters. The baby could go to school with me (Loyola had a program where the baby could stay once too big to sleep through class) and I could finish my Masters, no problem. We had triplets.

We planned....well, just suffice it to say, this is a lesson God teaches us a lot. Cause apparently we are just slow.

This time....a problem with the closing delayed our "starting to move" by a week and a day....simultaneously the renter for our former home contacted us to say he HAD to move his move-in date up 10 days!! 10 days!! So now instead of two weeks plus, we had less than a week and only two days where Wade didn't have to go to work. Two days.

So it was up to us....we literally left the title company office and started unloading boxes in the new house....making trips until midnight that first time back and forth between houses.

The next day was more of the same before we got the big truck on Sunday and instead of movers had to load it ourselves! Thank goodness for dear friends who helped...oh my goodness, we were SO grateful for Jim, Becky and Brett!! So grateful!

We have still made trips back and forth all week for all the left-overs....but FINALLY as of last night....every last crumb from the old house is in the new house. Now.....let the blessing of unpacking begin....has anyone seen my coffee maker??