letting go

The time has come for us to sell this beautiful property where we have lived for the past 6 years. While we never intended to stay here forever, we find that along the way we have most decidedly grown attached.

I clearly remember the first day we made the drive out to this place we now live and call home. As I process my mixed feelings about this move, perhaps a bit of background is helpful in understanding how we came to live a short season of our lives on this country farm, far removed from our old way of life in town.

My husband surfs the real estate websites as a hobby. I never worried about it because we were happy in our little 2-bedroom cottage on the hill with a view... even though it was getting mighty cramped after the arrival of our first baby. I assumed his hobby was exactly that - a hobby. Rookie mistake.

One afternoon my husband sat me down with a twinkle in his eyes, and his kindest, most compassionate tone of voice. The tone most likely to be used when he is going to ask me to think outside the box. The tone used when he knows I probably won't like what he has to say, but is hoping I will get on board with a decision of my own free will. I was not expecting what came next.

"I have been watching for investment properties while the housing market is low, but I found this property... maybe we can go see it together tomorrow... and you can think about whether or not we can move there to live for a few years while we fix it up," he said in this honey-soaked tone of voice.

What?! WHAT??!!!  Shocked. Do I seriously only have one day to think about whether I want to move to a new house, a new neighborhood, in an entirely removed community from where we have been for the past 6 years? If I don't want to move, will I dash my husband's dreams? Change is something I avoid at all costs,... and yet, we won't fit into our cute little cottage forever. Where exactly are we planning to put any of the other children we hope to have?

We made the 20 minute drive outside of town and pulled into the dusty driveway of this farm. I knew at once that my husband was suffering from tractor envy and the romantic calling of the big red barn.

I strapped 7-month-old Baby Annike into the Bjorn and toured the place with a more detailed eye. Every square inch of the house was covered in grime and wreaked of cigarette smoke. The floor plan was odd. Half of the rooms had beat up wood siding instead of dry wall. There was no landscaping. The woman of the house was wearing a large sweatshirt that said, "BITE ME" and I vaguely wondered if I might end up looking like her one day if we moved here.

This place was going to be a full-time project. Oddly though, I felt a sense of peace flooding me. Something about the property breathed life and adventure and magical moments. The lush green spring fields whispered in the breeze about a different kind of life we could lead for a while.  My friends and family would all think we'd gone crazy... but since when did I care about that?

With me on board in the decision, we made the old farmers an offer that afternoon. (Dare I say, my husband chose one flexible wife?) The market was low and the property had "potential".

Of course, to capitalize on that potential meant we needed to redo the roof, replace the windows, update the plumbing and electrical, tear out and refinish the flooring. The entire kitchen needed to be gutted and redesigned. I was personally in charge of washing down and painting every surface inside the house while my young baby played at my feet, and miraculously didn't get into much trouble. The week after we moved in, I flushed the toilet and the water backed up into our shower. Please note that this is never a good sign. It turned out the septic lines needed to be replaced too. In the end, even the one bathroom we thought would not need to be touched had a major leak. The tile was torn out and we started over. All this in the first year. (For some old "before" photos, see these posts.)

We have poured our hearts into all but the foundation of this property, reviving a dilapidated farmhouse into a place called home. It was a little fun, and a lot of hard work. Despite our emotional and physical investments, however, we never intended to stay here forever. It was an opportunity seized at a market low. It was a project tackled while we were young, strong, and wearing barn-tinted glasses. Now the time has come to sell this beautiful place. We find that along the way we have most decidedly grown attached.

I feel sad, yet willing. This season of rural life has been joyful. I will miss the magical warm evenings when we take a family walk through the oak trees. I will miss the fruit that flows in the orchard all summer long. I will miss the barn parties and hay rides. I will miss watching the mist disappear from the hilltops while I sip my morning cup of coffee. I will miss our fenced in kid-friendly backyard. I will miss these things because I have enjoyed these things over the past six years. To be sad about a passing season is to recognize that it was a good one.

The question that everyone has for us is "Why?" I can't answer that question in a clear and direct way. There are a lot of tiny little reasons that have built up to the direction of a move. None of them stand alone to support such a decision. The real reason is that God seems to be prompting us to let go of something. In the letting go, there is a type of cleansing and healing taking place in our hearts.

Together my husband and I are unified in this decision. It is one more reason that it feels right. My greatest fear is that one day we will look back at these days spent here and kick ourselves for not finding a way to hang onto the property for all of its uniqueness, knowing our children may one day want to ride their dirt bikes around and play capture the flag with their friends.

...Then the whisper to trust... and to not worry about storing up for ourselves treasures on earth because we might possibly want them again one day.

We were never meant to grow so attached to a thing in our lives that we couldn't let it go. When it comes down to it, however, I find that letting go is difficult. From small things to big things, from a set of old towels to pieces of furniture, from the toys my kids once played with to the dishes I might need again one day, from a home loved and lived in to a season of life that can never be repeated. Letting go is hard, and sometimes sad, but it is also good. Perhaps if a thing is too perfect it can become a crutch that prevents us from moving on to the next good thing that God has in store.

We are moving on to another home, another season, another set of memories. We will be closer to our daughter's school, closer to the beach, and a little closer to town. We will still have space to grow a garden and to grow our kids, but I have the feeling our days of rescuing great-horned owls and canning excess fruit grown in the yard are over. While rural living might be coming to an end, life's greatest adventures are spawned not as a result of where we live, but how we live.

I have already begun a temporary hiatus from blogging, as filling boxes becomes a priority over sitting down at the computer. I will be back when we settle into our next home, a land of less boxes and packing material, a land of new memories and new adventures.

investment

As I promised at the start of the New Year, we have been purging around here. Unfortunately, dropping giant boxes full of clothes and toys and bedding off at the donation center isn't the only form of de-cluttering that needs to happen in this house. There is a purging of the heart that is taking place too. Some bad attitudes have been cluttering up this home. They start small at first, with a mere thought of annoyance at something, or someone. Before I know it the entire attitude closet needs to be cleaned out. And I really know we are in trouble when I can no longer close the door to that closet as the junk comes pouring forth. Time to purge.

All three kids had RSV over the last few weeks, also known as a horrid respiratory virus that left the kids coughing all night and cranky all day. I was sneezed on and coughed on and used as a tissue. It is rather miraculous that I didn't get start getting sick until twelve days into it. Twelve long days of caring for fussy sick children, then I succumbed myself.

The head cold was the final item in that closet that prevented me from closing the door. There is nothing like a head cold to bring forth a deluge of self-pity. Poor me. Sometimes I just want to know that my life is about more than wiping noses and bottoms and faces. Is that too much to ask?!

Apparently, it is a lot to ask. Apparently I think pretty highly of myself to believe I should be doing "more important" things with my days.

The most important characters in the Bible were the ones who spent years investing in the insignificant. They were shepherds and fishermen and characters of humble beginnings. They spent the majority of their lives not being recognized or thanked or noticed particularly. They didn't visit exciting places and they lived a rather mundane daily routine. In the end, they were chosen for the condition of their hearts. Because investing in the insignificant is the best way to transform the condition of the heart.

Mothering young children feels a lot like investment in the insignificant. No one puts a stay-at-home mom on a list of the most accomplished or successful or wealthy people. No one is watching when she has a stellar moment to offer praise for her supreme patience with the obnoxious habits of her children. No one is around to notice if she doesn't do her job right either.

Motherhood is a training ground for the kind of humility that would make God want to choose someone like me for something in His kingdom. A nasty virus that sweeps the household is like the wolf that comes lurking through the shepherd's pasture. No one sees how the wolf is handled. But the outcome is crucial to the fate of the flock and the shepherd.

So now we are working on purging the attitudes that have begun to clutter our halls... attitudes of self-pity, and self-importance, and down right selfishness. Some of those attitudes belong to little people in my house. And some of them belong to me. But all of them need to go, no matter how insignificant it feels to invest in this way. In this case, an investment in the insignificant is an investment in eternity, an investment truly worth making.

God was shouting at me from the pages of Romans this week. I love it when He does that - as if He made sure it was written down 2000 years ago just so I could read it and be encouraged today.

"Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, 

to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true 

and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, 

in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you." 

Romans 12:1-3

And... some pictures of all the sickies. What else do you do when all 3 kids are home all day long for over a week? Dress up like animals and get a lot of snuggling in...

new year

New Year's Eve is sure different with 3 kids. We didn't even consider staying up until midnight this year. But thanks to the closest neighbors who keep the industry of importing illegal fireworks in business, every year at midnight we awaken, roll over in bed for our new year kiss, then promptly go back to sleep. It's becoming tradition!

We did make the evening special with family movie night, pizza and popcorn, sparklers, and glow sticks in the bathtub. All ending promptly at 7:30pm. It was midnight somewhere, right?

Happy New Year!  NEW. I like the sound of that.

Just under one year ago I discovered I was pregnant with little Karsten. They say that pregnancy is only 9 months long, but as a woman who has had three kids, I can safely say that it is really a full year commitment to carry this child. Between the morning sickness stage (so dreadful... don't even make me think about it), the I-am-too-big-to-walk stage, the exhaustion stage (wait - that was the whole thing), and then the 24 hour care through the newborn stage, it is fair to say that my body was devoted to growing Karsten for the whole of 2013. A woman gives up her body for a full year to bring a baby into the world (and that number does not account for the weight she will be trying to lose for the rest of her life because of that baby).

I love my baby, and he was entirely worth it. But I am ready to move on, to move forward, to emerge from the pregnancy stage into a stage of life where I have the energy to actually enjoy my children. And a stage when sleep is a little more abundant. Well... here's to hoping anyway!

God has given me a word for the year 2014: PURGE. Okay, I may not have heard Him audibly, but it was close enough for me. This year is going to be about purging, starting with the inexcusable amount of junk that has somehow collected in my house. We are getting rid of the excess so that we can make room for the things that matter.

We added a new person to the family this year, and he is one of those things that matters a lot. We need to make room for him.

There is a mentality that comes with hanging on to a lot of "stuff" that we don't need, and it carries over into who we are. I don't want to be bogged down by the things I won't let go of.

Literally, I am bogged down by the extra junk we have accumulated. Mentally, I am also bogged down by things I can't seem to let go of.

This year will be a year of purging the undesirable to create space for something better. You will be hearing more from me on this theme in the months to come.

With great joy and hope, I wish you a happy 2014!