Time for a break

This is what Sabbath looks like.  

Actually, that's what my living room looks like, but I am taking no steps to fix it.  Because Sabbath means that not only am I free to take a break from work, but my house is also free to be in disarray.  We assembled our couch yesterday.  We did not get the boxes out of the living room.  That's okay.  The job of collapsing those boxes is a simple one.  It would probably take about thirty minutes, but I'm not going to do it today.  Today, I honestly feel like I have earned a break.  The only job that's going to get done is laundry because most of our clothes smell like car exhaust.

It is Sunday, and we are in Chandler, Minnesota. We got here Friday evening  after a week of grueling wind and snow pushing us along the I-90..  My mom's cousin commented on my facebook post, "Stay safe.  You really did pick the worst week to go." We made it from Sunnyside, Washington, to out here in four days and managed to work in pre-algebra, novel studies, and a little bit of economics ("Hey, Annika, what do you think  the state of Montana exports?"  "Trees and cows?"  "Yep, pretty much. Minerals too most likely.").  The weather was nasty.  A lot of trucks were in the ditch.  ("Annika, that is what we call a jack-knifed trailer.")  But we are here now, and that is something to be grateful for.

Gratitude is a funny thing.  We often don't use it when it is most appropriate.  Let me list all the things I specifically have to be grateful for right now.  

• Seth has a job, and it only took him two months out of graduate school to get it.  Some graduates wait two years for a job these days.  
• The job comes with a house that is the biggest house I have lived in since I graduated from college.  
• Seth, Annika, and I were literally prayed across the country this week. It was dangerous out there, and we are safe. 
• The furniture that we ordered got here at the earliest possible moment, a week after we ordered it, and was waiting for us in the garage.  
• We found winter coats for Seth and Annika at the mall on our way to dinner. 
•  Wonderful people from our congregation opened their home to us so we didn't have to sleep on air mattresses the first couple of nights.  
• Those same wonderful people also stocked our fridge and made us fudge brownies.
• And we have new phones.  (Our old mobile company doesn't have coverage out here.) 

 Did I wake up feeling grateful this morning?  No, to be perfectly honest, I did not.  

• See, I didn't sleep well, and I woke up a little under the weather.  
• And the truck that was supposed to deliver our belongings (furniture, beds, pots and pans) broke down before they could bring us our boxes.  
• There was more work to do on Monday, and I wasn't sure how it was gong to get done.

That's about it.  Gratitude -- kaphooey!  Over night, the sense of wonder and comfort vanished, and I felt like I shouldn't have to go through this.  I was tired, doggone it, and I wanted to be done.  And that's what Sabbath is for.  "On the seventh day, God rested."  God doesn't get tired, and He's never under the weather.  But He rested on the seventh day.  As I am learning, rest is good.  It's not just good for me.  It's good.  And I have the feeling that I will be much more able to handle tomorrow and all its boxes tomorrow when I'm supposed to. 

Notifications from Limbo: Funny how much difference a continent makes.

Here we are, sitting pretty in my parents' basement.  Boo is doing long division, something of a bane to her "skip the details" soul.  I am finishing what I began a couple of weeks ago: moving blog#1.

The following was originally written on August 15th.  Published without pictures at the moment because I can't find them.

One week in to our cross country road trip, and we took a break in Iowa to catch our breath, get the laundry done, and visit some with family.  I have a hard time believing that we are already and yet only a week out of Grand Rapids.  I'm tired, but I think that's because we spent this afternoon out on the water.

  When we cross the country (this is the fourth time for Seth and me), we always reserve our campsites ahead of time so we have a schedule. We put in four hours of driving Thursday night, minus losing the cat at Cadillac, to get to St. Ignace, and two hours the next morning to get to Munising. The first leg of our trip took us right along the coast of Lake Michigan, with a couple of views of Lake Superior and Lake Huron going over the Mackinac Bridge.  I can now say that the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is as beautiful as I have always heard that it is.  Somehow, it wasn't quite what I was expecting, but it was still gorgeous.  Flat, green, lots of low lying ground with ponds and streams:  I can totally see why Dutch immigrants would settle there.  We had nothing but blue skies and breezes while we were in the U.P.

 Sometimes the breezes were a little too strong.  We didn't get to see the Pictured Rocks because of a small craft advisory.  We were disappointed because we couldn't wait for the wind to die down.  We had to be on the road again the next day.  Still, we managed to have a good time with the time we had.  They have some good ice cream in Munising, and wood fired pizza is always a treat.

Then we took off for a long drive: 7 hours (including lunch breaks) to the Wisconsin Dells.  And here vacation really began.  We had three nights reserved at the Dells (the KOA won't make shorter reservations), and anyone who has been to the Dells lately can tell you that there is no way anyone can take in all that there is to see in two days.  Luckily for us, we are not the world's biggest tourists.  Annika hates waterslides, crowds, and big risks like rope courses.  That shortened the list of activities considerably.  We went on a DUKW ride, because you have to do a DUKW ride at the Dells.  That's like the original attraction there.  Annika and Seth got to see two-headed crocodiles and really big pythons at the reptile gardens.  And we did a submarine themed escape room.  That, plus hunting all over southcentral Wisconsin for a replacement cookstove, was enough activity for us, though we wouldn't mind coming back and exploring the more natural features of the Dells.  That is some seriously gorgeous territory out there.

The only real downside to the Dells was that it rained all three days that we were there.  Every evening, around 5 pm, just as we wanted to get the campfire started, it would start to rain.  So we ate under the canopy and went to bed early.  Not that we minded.  Being a tourist is tiring.

After the Dells, we put in another long day of driving, and got Spirit Lake, IA, where Seth's grandpa was waiting for us.  Many people don't know that Iowa has its own tiny "great lakes," five conjoined lakes that have some of the clearest water in the country.  We took our little inflatable boat out West Okoboji and had a picnic in the middle of the lake.  I thought we were going to get doused by some threatening clouds, but they moved southeast.  We also went out on a pontoon boat with Seth's uncle and grandfather, and Annika got a chance to drive.

Hello, World!

It's been a while, hasn't it?
I just looked at my saved drafts, and the last time I put one together was the end of the 2018 school year, looking forward to summer vacation.  Now, being halfway through summer of 2019, I feel a little silly starting all over again.

But starting all over again is the name of the game.  Seth is done with seminary.  Our house is all but sold.  The trailer is getting packed.  And Boogaloo and I are in the process of purging the belongings that we don't need.  A week from today, we will be heading west, slowly west.  Seth does not at present have a call, though he has a couple of lookers.  We are at a point of endless possibilities, or so I keep telling myself.

I find myself craving mountains and waterfalls.  Michigan has waterfalls enough, I suppose.  I haven't really had a chance to visit them.  But mountains, towering rock cliffs, snow peaks on the horizon -- I didn't realize how much these were a part of my DNA until we started talking about going back to them.  I have this odd ache right below my throat that says, "Take me west.  Take me west.  What are you waiting for?"

Well, we're waiting for all those interminable little details that come between here and there -- moving pod, cleaning house, signing papers, canceling utilities.  I'd like to be profound about this.  Half-baked connections to the Christian life are trying to come out through my fingers.  But honestly, if I tried to make a metaphor now, I think I'd be doing both this life and the next a disservice.  This life is more than just tedious necessities that stand between us and home.  It is good and necessary work.  Maybe that's how I need to start seeing this week, as good and necessary work.  At any rate, I have boxes to load.

Hoping you all are well.

Experimenting with Mardi Gras

And now, a break from the Should Be's for a bit of Lenten humor.  Joke's on us. 

We aren't doing a traditional Lent this year.  Seth was going to give up alcohol, and I resolved to journal more.  So far, general success. 

But then Seth's gym announced that they were going to sponsor a Whole 30 support group during the month of March in an effort to encourage healthy eating, and we signed up.  For those of you not familiar with Whole 30, it takes all the grains, sugars, legumes, dairy products, and preservatives out of your diet for 30 days (no cheating).  More meat and vegetables, clarified butter (whatever that is), nuts, coconuts, olives (ew!).  It's going to be an adventure. 

So over the past week, we've been having a mini-carnival of sorts to clear out our kitchen.  We are not big into sugars, but we love our dairy products.  We also had a fair amount of grains in the snack cupboard (but only the best kinds of grains, you understand).  And sugar hides in the strangest places.  And it all had to go, either into a big bag which is going to get buried in the storage room downstairs or into a giveaway box or into the garbage can. 

Now I didn't live through the Great Depression, but I was raised by people who appreciate the value of a dollar.  I don't throw food away.  Doesn't happen.  So I looked at the bread in the cupboard and the big bag of chocolate chips above the stove and the coffee creamer in the fridge, and I thought, "These are all open.  We can't give them away.  We've got to eat them."  From there, this attitude kicked in where we realized that there were going to be a whole bunch of things that we can't have for a month -- pizza, pancakes, lattes, french toast.  In addition to that, today is Boogaloo's 10th birthday, so I made her the most decadent chocolate peanut butter cake I could to use up our sugar supplies (didn't succeed).  I daresay these last three days have been the least healthy food-wise of the entire year.  And I don't feel so good. 

In fact, I think I'm going to be sick.  Literally.  This isn't healthy. 

Usually, we are pretty conscientious about how we eat.  A salad every night and the leftovers in our smoothie for breakfast.  Fruits and veggies are our biggest expenditure.  We eat pretty simply.  We don't usually go out of our way to find sugar or grease, but this weekend, for some reason, we did.  Before this weekend, I was pretty confident that our transition into a whole foods diet wouldn't be that hard because we wouldn't have a lot to purge from our systems.  After this weekend, however, I am not so sure.  I think the mental consciousness that we are giving up something is as hard to fight against as the actual desire for the thing itself. 

This is funny to me because we are Calvinists, and Calvinists are the people who were ridiculed for having "Lent all year round."  We don't do Mardis Gras.  The wildness of carnival isn't part of our system.  But just because we don't  indulge religiously doesn't mean we aren't human. 

Funny how hard it is to give things up.  I'll post later on this month about how Whole 30 is going.  #notexactlylent 

Curse of the Should Be's, Pt. 2

Apologies.  I said last time that I meant to write a series.  Then we promptly lost access to half our Internet.  Long story.  I've also been moved into nearly full time at the school where I've been subbing.  I'd like to ask prayers for the V. family as they wait for B.V.'s full recovery.  The long wait is what's keeping me in work right now.  But without further ado, let me pick up where I left off. 

"Do not store up treasures for yourselves on earth. . . . You cannot serve both God and money. . . So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own."  

 I once was startled by the following comment at a table in a teacher's lounge: "The feminists lied to us.  You can't be a perfect teacher and a perfect mother, not in the same day."  This was spoken by a woman who was devoted to her kids and ardent in her work.  She was also exhausted and made no bones about it.  She had come to the realization that something had to give.  She couldn't live up to all the expectations.  I think many people are coming to that understanding, and I'm glad of it.  

Expectations, which I have called should be's,  have been on my mind because I wrestle with a lot of them.   You see, I have this nebulous idea of personal perfection.  It comes from the headlines of women's magazines and television commercials.  Sometimes it comes from what I see in other people's houses when I visit.  Facebook has something to do with it.  I studiously avoid Pinterest for the very reason that I don't really need any more input in this area. 

There are too many ways to be personally perfect.  I should have more variety in my wardrobe.  I should have more variety on the dinner table.  I should be planning more, writing more, reading more.  I should be on Facebook less.  I should be reading new books.  I should be reading old textbooks.  I should be looking for full time work.  My furniture should match.  My Christmas should include a certain number of treats, activities, crafts, and presents.  My new year should have a certain number of improvements.  It's a picture of some ether-world impossible good life, and in my right mind, I recognize that I don't need half these things to be happy, let alone to be good.  Still I want them, to be among the perfect ones, the people who don't have any should be's. 

J.K.A. Smith, in his book Desiring the Kingdom, describes the penchant of people to absorb an idea of the “good life.”   I haven’t found his book back yet after the move, but the general idea is that society creates ideas of what life would look like if it were perfect and publish the steps that the individual needs to take to achieve or at least come closer to basking in that happiness.  Then these idealists of the good life invite you to join the communities of people working to reach it by dangling the vision in front of you through advertising or HG television or whatever means are appropriate.  If you've ever walked past a store in the mall or watched a commercial, ever, then you know the pitch -- be sexy, be professional, be prepared, secure, spiritual, confident, exciting, entertaining, tasty, exotic.  You know, the good life.   

The first problem with "the good life" is that it's impossible to achieve.  You might pull off an element or two.  That's no problem.  But like that magazine photo that just showed up in your mailbox, this picture has been airbrushed by interested parties like advertisers and our own imaginations. The limits on our energy, the time in the day, the number of our commitments, the fact that the people who create these things do so for a living whereas the rest of us try to fit them in at the side, all of these facts are against us.   Think of all the should be’s that apply to our lives.  What we should be, what our homes should be, what our bodies should look like, what our closets should look like, what our kids should be, how we should be doing or approaching our jobs, how we should be interacting with our communities.  You can probably add a few that are personal to you.  Can anyone live up to all of them?  I guarantee you that no one is.

When Jesus was preaching the Sermon on the Mount, he was well aware of the influence of "the good life" utopia on his followers.  Moreover, just as our Lord cautions us, we tend to run after all these things. The pursuit of holiness or its secular equivalents, is an active human pursuit.  "Upward mobility" has always been a human tendency.  Rowan Williams, the current archbishop of Canterbury, addresses the pursuit of holiness in his book, Being Disciples.  He points out that the more we focus on being holy (or sexy or proficient or domestic, I might add) instead of focusing on being happy with God or happy with ourselves, the less likely we are to achieve what we’re aiming at.  But we do it just the same.

Which is precisely why Jesus/God tells us "Do not worry."  Not you shouldn't worry.  Just don't.  I've noticed something about the Bible.  When God tells us not to do something, it's because we do it.    Imagine what life would be like if we could throw off all these things that hinder and just move forward toward greater grace and godliness.  That would require a lot of faith.