souls of your travelin' shoes

this week's soundtrack....

I might have told our children that this song is about our family and they might have assumed I was telling the truth.

what does the manner family do on road trips? what a great question! here's a little sample.

we have indoor picnics for breakfast! this one was all the kids' own doing. I came out of the shower and they were eating apples and brussel sprouts on a towel on the floor.

(this was during our stay at epworth, a sister camp to the camp where we lived all summer. we are terrible about taking pictures on the important things, but staying here was such a great jump start to life  off the island. big open grassy fields, perfect for doing nothing in. so we did. we also went canoeing and then hiking along the creek. and we went caving! that was pretty exciting. kids were totally into it. jamin says it's the darkest dark he's ever seen. we saw a straw bale house and dreamed about running our own camp or school or something. so, that last part was mostly just me, but this lovely piece of property will be for sale very very soon. if you want to buy it for me, I promise to be a good steward of all its glorious worth.)

we wrestle in town squares!

this particular one was in middlebury, vermont, but matches like these have now occurred all over small new england towns. I am usually an observer. and by "usually" I mean "always."

we point at brewery signs!

best. beer. ever. this was right after we toured the brewery and had a flight and cora fell off of her bar stool. this sign is well-worth pointing at.

 we pick apples and eat donuts! and we had a great time doing both. made eric ready to rush home and plant more trees. I can be down with that. get ready, redbud!

we stop at adorable toy stores to spend our pocket money! 

standing next to this guy was a dream come true for jamin. our car (I should take a picture of iggy so you know what it is like for a family of four to live out of a honda fit for four months...) is a black hole for all the little pieces that come with "playmobil guys." this can be a problem when the firefighter drops his ax for the sixth time in four miles, but it is pretty great to eavesdrop on the pretend play in the backseat. 

we stop to pee on the side of the road and end up playing in a creek for half an hour!

new hampshire is my favorite so far. I was really prepared to love vermont, but new hampshire has just blown me away. 

today we are in maine, heading to Tir na nOg Farm where we'll be WWOOFing for a week or so. we left shelter island last saturday and headed to epworth for a few days. loved new paltz, loved epworth, loved being away from long island. after epworth we headed north through albany to have breakfast with a camp friend (hi, allison! why didn't we take a picture?), putzing our way towards burlington, vermont. we stayed in charlotte with eric's cousin cristin ond her sweetie way out in the middle of nowhere. it was lovely in every way. did a day in burlington, where we ate only at vegetarian restaurants (heavenly!), including supper with gedney (hooray!), then headed back east across vermont and new hampshire. this morning we are waking up in our lakeside hotel. kids have already had two baths (our favorite hotel luxury, since we only had a shower at camp) and are now playing "farm stand" on the floor, eating tomatoes and kale as part of the game. we're headed to a benefit breakfast for the local hospital a little later (recommended by our hotel manager), then on the road to pownal.

kids are doing very well. eric and I are, too. there is a good balance of enjoying our time and feeling the pull of going home. mostly we just take in all the cool stuff we're learning as things we'd like to try at mudflower. it is good to have such an inticing place to come home to. get ready, brevard. the manners are coming, ready to jump back in!

5 lists of 5

5 things I will miss about shelter island (people don't count):

1-dark and stormy: I can't even describe to you how much I enjoy this particular drink. and I can't believe I don't have a picture of one because I certainly consumed a lot of them this summer. yum.

2-roundabouts: no stop lights on shelter island. just traffic circles. and that makes life very good.

3-sunsets: so at mudflower because we live so high up and have so many trees around we hardly ever catch a good sunset at home. here I could sit at my kitchen table and watch the sun reflecting on the water as it set. after camp was over we had a family meeting and decided to take a walk on the beach every night after supper, so for our last month we caught the sunset nearly every night. it's a good thing.

 4-full service gas station: you don't pump your own gas on shelter island, and in my book, that is a pretty fabulous concept. I will miss this ever so much.

5-real pizza: every stereotype you know about new york pizza is true, or at least it is at bella vita on shelter island. it is way delicious, they throw the dough up in the air, and once when I didn't have enough cash to cover my pie, the guy said, "fugeddaboudit". no joke.

5 things we squeezed into our last week, thank goodness

1-mashomack: this lovely nature preserve makes up a third of shelter island. we finally made a trip their our last week. great hiking, complete with off-road strollers. cora was in heaven.

2-shell beach: best beach on the island, hands down. when I was here back in my college days, I accidentally buried the back of the camp van in a sand dune (whoops!) and hadn't been back since. this time I just made sure eric was driving and all was good.










3-joe young: finally had coffee with this kid. wish it had been earlier in the summer so I could have done it much more often.

4-turtle sighting: cora has been talking about finding a turtle all summer. as we got closer and closer to our departure date and the weather kept getting cooler,the rest of us had all but given up. but the day before we left, she found one, sure enough. pure bliss on this girl's face.

5-this gathering: I worked all summer to get this group of people together to take this very photo. totally worth the wait.

5 things photos can't capture

1-the deer craziness: they're everywhere. right next to our cottage, on the tetherball court, on the beach. it's kind of weird.

2-the grocery store parking lot: I just can't describe what it is like to pull into the grocery store and park next to a porsche on one side and a lexus suv on the other and then realize as you walk across the parking lot that yours is the only honda in sight. if iggy wasn't so well-adjusted, he might have gotten a complex this summer.

3-the way jamin has blossomed here: our boy loved camp in a way that surprised and humbled me all at once. he sang songs (with hand motions!) on stage, he made sure we all dressed up for fancy friday, he is a camp champ, all the way.

4-kid-hop eric: my husband has mad skillz. on friday nights during the skit show he would totally bust a secret agent 23 skidoo song out like it was nothing. somehow I never captured photographic evidence of this talent, but I am sure a photo could have never done it justice anyway.

5-vespers: vespers is our evening worship at camp. I can't ever capture the energy and enthusiasm and essence of this time. one of my favorite parts of every day.

5 things I won't miss one bit

1-rodents in my house: mice, chipmunks, and squirrels sharing my living space? won't miss ya one bit, guys.

2-having to go off island for tempeh or bronners: yeah, I am totally ready for some hippie convenience.

3-sunset beach stop sign: there is a seasonal stop sign in front of a bar just down the road from camp, marking a crosswalk where people can walk from the restaurant to the beach. mostly it is a place for people to stand in the road and air kiss each other hoping the paparazzi is catching it all on film. or at least that is the way it feels from my car, anyway.

4-new york prices: I am ready to think in north carolina dollars again. eric says especially for beer.

5-if I'm going to have one list that only has four items, this is a good one to do it on, right?

5 reasons I'm really glad we came

1-we met some fabulous people: fabulous people, I hope by now you know who you are. thank you.

2-my concept of "home" just keeps expanding, and I really like that.

3-we learned a lot about what we are good at and what we are doing right: we are good at connecting people and building community and being silly and helping other people do all of those things, too.

4-we missed a really rainy summer in brevard :)

5-this song.

"Now the distance is done and the search has begun 
I've come to see where my beginnings have gone"


I can't wait to see what happens next!

9/11 from here

this time last year my mom asked me to write about my memories of september 11, 2001. thought I'd share it here as well.

On September 11, 2001 I had ringworm on my boob.  I had gone swimming at elk falls over the weekend with jeremy and amanda and heather, an odd mix of friends, but we had a really good time together.  I jumped off a really tall rock (the only girl on the trip to do it), and I have some super silly pictures from that day.  but in all that wild mountain water I picked up a parasite and I got up early on tuesday morning to hit the imfirmary before class.  after a quick diagnosis and a tube of jock-itch cream, I headed down to get something to eat before class.  the televisions in the student union were all showing the same thing, planes and buildings and flames, and I was there at just the right moment to watch people realize that it wasn't some clip from an action movie (which was what I thought initially) and flock over for a closer look.  I stayed long enough to get an idea of what was happening then headed outside to get away from the quickly growing crowd.  I walked out across the mall, and a group was just forming a circle to pray.  I grabbed a hand, thinking of bethy and greg and being so very aware that I was in new york less than a month before, wondering what this event was really all about and what it really meant to me as a person in north carolina, to my friends so much closer geographically, and to all of us, a generation to know so little about war in our own lives.  I stood and held hands with people I didn't know, praying without being sure what for, feeling sad without a clear direction for that sadness. 

 

I left my place in the circle to go to class, not even thinking that class might be cancelled.  lots of people weren't there, and my professor just sat, didn't get up to lecture, didn't make motions to start discussion, just sat.  he talked some about what we were all thinking about, even as ambiguous as it all was at that point.  he finally said, "all I really want to do is go hold my kids, so that's what I'm going to do."  he left to pull his kids out of school, which I think of often now that I am a parent.  I can't even remember his name, but I think of him whenever I am worried to the point of needing to just be with people I love most, especially eric and jamin and cora, to know that those people are safe and with me and close enough to touch.

 

my next class had an exam scheduled, and I went, assuming it would be cancelled.  as the day went on we knew more about what official people thought was happening, what we thought was happening next, but even that really meant little.  it was a beautiful day, just a hint of fall and blue blue mountain skies.  when I got to my next class (I don't remember that professor's name either), my professor assured us we would be taking our exam today.  we couldn't let the bad guys win, he said.  life had to go on.  it was a social psychology class, rather fitting, I guess, to have an exam in the midst of social trauma, just to prove a point if nothing else.  more than half the class wasn't there, but the rest of us focused in and took our test.

 

I don't remember many of the specifics about the rest of the day.  I remember being at work at media services when the news decided to stop showing the actual crash.  the most vivid image from television that I have was all the paper blowing out of the buildings, just massive amounts of paper everywhere, no end in sight.  for some reason that image has stuck with me more than people running and screaming, more than the plane crashing.  when I think of 9/11 I just see all that paper flying everywhere.  I remember later calling you and dad, trying for hours to get up with bethy and greg and lauren, lines being busy over and over again.  bethy said she could see smoke from where she was, just an hour away from the city.  someone's brother had had a job interview in on of the towers just the day before.  we had a staff meeting to make sure we were checking in with our residents, that we were available for counseling if needed, that counseling was available to us if needed.  it was a strange time for me.  my senior year had just started, I had just gotten back from new york, I was reeling from all that had happened that summer, good and not so good, dealing with lots of hurt that I didn't know where to put.  now the whole world was falling apart.

 

I remember all the bumper stickers about american pride popping up, flags everywhere for about two weeks.  I wasn't much of a news follower, so lots of my information came just from general discussion or general assumption.  I got real tired real quick of the "put a boot in their ass, it's the american way" mentality.  it was a time that I was already really exploring what it meant to be a christian in america, and this point in history was an especailly poigniant time to explore that perspective.  it was pretty disappointing to see how vindictive people who were supposed to be "turning the other cheek" could be, especially our leaders. 

 

those are my clearest snapshots.  not sure if that is what you were looking for, but it was kind of neat to think about that specific period with enough distance not to be too rattled by it.  thanks for the assignment. 

where my feet are

here's a post from this time last year. funny to be in a similar place in my head. but wherever I may be, here I am.

I held a hummingbird in my hands today.  I was volunteering at jamin's school, hippie woo woo school we call it, where children run amuck and talk about catching "peace fever" and use feeling words with each other like tiny psychiatrists ("how did you feel when she pushed you?" teachers prompt gently).  we were playing in the gym, children running freely, chasing tennis balls and each other, girls playing "baby" with each other and boys making siren noises.  the gym has big sliding doors on all sides; it houses the gymnastics equipment for a girls sleepover camp all summer, then transforms into a romper room in the fall for these free-spirited sprites.  the room itself is chilly on these autumn mornings, and I stood huddled near one of the doors in a triangle of sun while I watched the carefully orchestrated free-for-all.

when we'd first come in for playtime there was a dead hummingbird in the middle of the floor.  nights now are too cold for tiny cold-blooded creatures, especially those who should have headed south a week or so ago.  it made me feel guilty that our feeder at home is still hanging up, inticing the flutter of wings with free, easy-to-find nectar, tricking the birds into thinking flowers still might be blooming so there might be reason to stay.  I (and 17 children) watched as a teacher gently swept the bird into a dustpan and take her out of the gym to be handled later in the day.  children were quick to settle back into activity with far less questioning than I'd anticipated.

later during playtime another hummingbird appeared on the floor.  a teacher called me over and pointed it out.

"there must be a nest in the rafters," she said.  "I just saw it fall straight down with a plop.  but this one is still alive, I'm pretty sure."

it was indeed.  "do you want me to pick it up?" I asked, unsure of what parent volunteers were actually expected to do in situations like these.  

"whatever you feel comfortable with," was all the help I got in figuring it out.

so I did.  I picked up a hummingbird, those mysterious animals that buzz like big insects, the only birds capable of backwards flight.  we'd watched the flit around our feeders all summer, jamin and cora annoucing their simetaneous arrivals and depatures from the breakfast table every morning: "hummingbird! it flew away."  holding this one in my hand felt nothing like I'd expected (not that I'd ever thought much about what holding a hummingbird would feel like).  this tiny body felt more like a marshmallow than an animal, and those wings that were always just a blur before were still enough to make me nervous.

somewhere this week I read the reminder that "your ministry is where your feet are."  I need reminders like this every so often, especially when I get bogged down with being still, with not being able to do enough to save the world, with being boring in my (not so very) old age.  last week I started three new parenting classes, an overwhelming mix of people insistent that they don't need any help with their parenting, a family with kids so out of control we cannot provide them with childcare, and even one family that required a report to dss.  weeks like that make me hug my own kids extra hard, give an extra shout out of thanks for all the support systems I have.  weeks like that also remind me that my ministry is where my feet are, in more ways than one.  there is need right here, right where I already live, and of course that is part of my ministry where my feet are, in a very literal sense.  but more than that, there will alway be need, there will always be families who need a boost, kids who need to feel safe, people who need to find their tribe.  and since my feet will always be wherever it is I am, that is another way to minister where my feet are.  ministry will just follow wherever I happen to be just because that is the way it works.  compassionate hearts find needs to fill even when they don't really want to.

so today my ministry was to a hummingbird.  I carried that little marshmallow body outside to a warm picnic bench and no sooner had I placed it down gently than the whir of wings started and off flew my little friend.  that is the kind of results I am most fond of: immediate and highly visible.  there is power in that reminder, power that every little bit helps, power in being in the right place at the right time with a willingness to listen to what needs to be done.

we can stay here and I can teach parenting classes.  I can quit my job and homeschool my children.  we can move to hawaii and work in a group home.  we can join an organic farm in vermont and raise children and garlic and potatoes.  it is all ministry.  it is all exactly right.  we will keep listening and loving and learning and that will all be exactly enough.  wherever our feet may be.

seven year plunge

here's this week's soundtrack.  now go rent "benny and joon" to enjoy the original in all it's glory.

my very dearest rico suave,

I can remember when seven years seemed like a long time away.

I can remember, before the adventures at summer camp, before the WWOOFing and the splat. before redbud springs, before the mudflower csa. before zero gravity, before we had our hearts broken by the foster care system (over and over and over). before brevard, even. before families together and a home birth in montford. before the long trek to canada and home again. before iggy. before the HEAP. before new dawn midwifery. before weaverville and candler and black mountain.  before whitewater cove, before professional parenting, even before the halloween parties at oak park. I can remember when seven years seemed like a lot of time to fill.

but, my, have we filled it. I can't count the number of kids we've had in and out of our homes. I can barely count the number of homes we've had. I have watched you parent kids who never had a dad of their own, and I have watched you learn to be a dad to our own kids. I have seen you make a garden out of an empty lot, I've seen you grow vegetables from old tires, tree stumps, and even in the canadian tundra. I have watched you make meals, really delicious ones at that, from a pantry I was sure was empty. you've led me on backpacking trips, cross-country trips, and grocery store trips (it can be an intimidating place!). we've made friends and grown community and learned over and over that not everyone sees life quite the same way we do.

and, man I love how you see life. I love that you are so good with money. I love that you're willing to live on next-to-nothing so that we can raise our kids together. I love that you find creative ways to keep us debt-free and never wanting for much. I love that you are willing to take on whatever adventure we manage to dream up, that you are willing to indulge my wanderlust. I love that you are willing to remind me just how important home is, too, and even where it is when I need that reminder. I love that you love our kids. I love that you love other people. I love that the way you love is so different than mine, because I learn so much that way. I love the way our story goes, all the different pieces and places and players. I love hearing you tell it to people who have no idea how crazy we really are. I love how proud you are of the life we are living.

and how proud you are of me. I wish I could see me through your eyes all the time. thank you for pushing me (or pulling me) into what you know I can do, what I should do, what I want to do. I am a better person because I am married to you. thank you for spending so much of your time, so much of your life with me. I love your perspective, your patience, your persistence. you provide balance to our relationship and to our family. to our community. to my life.

seven years ago you asked me to take the plunge with you. seven years ago we decided we could do life better together than we could apart. seven years ago we started living the story we'll be proud to tell our kids one day. as we celebrate our seventh plunge, I could not be happier with the life we have created, with the adventure we are living. I love you all the way, pinto. and I wanna keep on plunging every day of our lives.

yours for the ups and downs and all the in-betweens,

slick

ps- you are soooooooo hott. for real.