“The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.”
I mentioned it before, but we’re back.
Back in beautiful Idaho, a place that is truly home to us.
We missed it every day. But though we missed home, we had a long winter adventure planned out, so many places we would see…
But interestingly, everything changed. We began to feel so strongly that it was time to get back home. We accelerated our list and cut it down to the few most important things, and then we hurried home.
Even though coming back meant camping in true winter and ice and snow (don’t worry, we’re toasty and fine!!), it felt so compellingly right that we couldn’t stay.
We had planned to build a home next summer, but even that changed. We felt prompted to buy a home now, and we moved forward. That is a long and special story of its own, but long story short, we are zooming right along in the process of buying a sweet little home in the woods.
Everything feels so very right, and my heart is at peace. This year has been one of tremendous growth for me, and I am just beginning to see the incredible path that has been laid out in front of me.
So, as my heart turns to the new year and all of the joys it holds for our family, I bid farewell to a year of staggering climbs, and keep in my heart the lessons learned and the change that has come. I am entirely new.
Just a little look back at our family’s coastal adventure:
And now, forward on our wonderful path we go.
Tender mercies
Christmas and all of its joys has blessed us this week.
As time has rushed onward, the glow remains, but the days march on.
It’s still living in my heart, though, as I see my girls pulling together, as I feel help from beyond, and as I see a multitude of tender mercies in my life.
Christmas is a miracle.
It opens our eyes to what we have.
It also opens our hearts to what we could be, and I think that’s why, sometimes, I feel down after Christmas. I see how far I have to go.
This year, though, I see so much more clearly that the Lord is there, ready to lift me there.
This month has been a rush of blessings.
Seeing them poured out has opened my eyes to the fact that they’ve been poured out all along.
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
Isa. 40:31
Savior
Our winter plans changed, but more on that soon. When we left Washington, we made the long trip back to Idaho. The first night we were here, we went to the nearby Temple and walked the grounds.
The simple Nativity scene was affecting.
The thought of a tiny, perfect son, come to save, change, and rescue. It has affected me more this Christmas than it ever has.
We were tired, worn, and unwashed..it had been a very long trip. The girls wanted to go into the Visitor’s Center to see the Christus. I felt keenly aware of my physical appearance. I hadn’t had a shower in days. My matted hair beneath my stocking cap had been hiding there for goodness knows how long. I had worn the same clothes for 72 hours straight.
I removed the hat hiding my hair and approached the statue. I was afraid I’d feel so unworthy and unclean…not only physically, but in so many other ways. I have wrestled with my broken heart and the new person I have so desperately been fighting to become. I barely lifted my eyes, but longed to be nearer.
This Christus is able to be touched, which is rare and nice. The girls, especially the young ones, ran to Him. My sweet four-year-old said, “I want to hold His hand.” I went with her, and as I stood close, watching her hug the Savior and hold His hand, I felt washed clean and made new. I felt that He saw nothing, nothing, about my hair or my clothes. But I knew He saw everything inside of me. He saw my sorrow and my joy, and all that those things were helping me to become.
I used to worry that I’d feel so completely unworthy when I finally met Him, forgetting completely that He loves me perfectly and that He did everything He did to wash me clean of all I have left behind me. I’m not worried anymore.
Since then, I have been different. My eyes have been so open to the love and the help of the Lord in my life. In the past two weeks, time and time again the tiniest miracles have happened, little things that showed me that He knows exactly what is in my heart and that He knows exactly who and what I need, right in that moment.
Tonight, the girls are tucked snug in their beds.
Quiet reigns in our tiny home, and I alone am awake, with thoughts of Christmas. Snow is falling outside and I can hear each flake as it falls from heaven to the roof.
This silent and holy night is a gift, just as this year has been. A chance to become new.
In my wilderness
I’m not comfortless.
He is there–
Savior.
Holy Counselor,
Friend and Rescuer,
He is Hope–
Savior.
In forgiveness
He is wondrous.
He is love–
Savior.
He will hear me,
Comfort, cheer me.
Loves me dearly–
Savior.
And I’ll praise Him evermore
He opened Heaven’s door
Give my heart to Him–
He let me in.
In His kindness
He is gladness
He is joy–
Savior.
Gave His life for me
Paid the price for me
He is my
Savior.
-Melanie and Roger Hoffman
(Download or listen to this beautiful song here for free–legally!)
Merry Christmas, dear ones. May you feel His incredible love today.
Farewell to Washington
Washington has been a beautiful, glorious rest.
From the sweet family we’ve spent time with, to the kind and gentle people we’ve loved, to the majestic mountains and woods.
Every day has been restful, a blessing in the midst of all of our decisions and emotions this month.
We’ve had to drive to find it most days. but we’ve even had the gift of a bit of Christmas snow.
We’ve had time to figure things out and find peace, and for that, I will always be grateful.
Like mountains shrouded in coming snow, our paths are sometimes unclear.
But we can be certain that a glorious path lies ahead of us, just beyond what we can see.
That’s what faith is all about.
I’m grateful for this place and all it has taught me.
Though it was only meant to be a small part of our journey, I’ll have it in my pocket wherever I go.
Our people
I’ve written so much about this year without writing about it at all. I’m sorry about that.
This week, so much has come to a defining point for me. There is so much this week that might have been. I find myself, at every moment, choosing, again and again, God over myself. That’s good. It’s a good place for me to be.
“Grief is messy.” Grief, at the core, makes me want to run.
We have been celebrating Christmas and all its joys this week with the town that we are currently visiting. At first glance, it is almost sad. We are longing for home. This isn’t our town. These aren’t our people.
But, if I’ve learned anything on our journey, I’ve learned that they are all our people.
I’ve learned, more than ever, that everyone has a story, and everyone is connected, and that we belong to each other. People are good and kind, and too often, we cut ourselves off from each other in an effort to save face or be strong.
The more we travel, the more I sit back quietly and listen. I listen hungrily to all of the voices around me. Some I’ve come to know more intimately, some I’ve passed in the shop and will never see again. But each has left a piece of themselves with me.
I sat in church last Sunday with our grandparents, in a chapel full of people I have never met. I cried as I listened to them share their joys and their deep, deep sorrows, asking for one another’s prayers.
I think when we run away emotionally, we forget that we have each other. We forget that we are connected and that we all hurt and that we all want to help.
That’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this. One of the great healing gifts we have is each other.
I have been floored lately, as so many people have contacted me in some way to let me know that they have been reading in this space. So, to each of you who have listened to me this year, thank you for being part of me. Merry Christmas, my friends.
Cascading
“Another glorious day, the air as delicious to the lungs as nectar to the tongue.”
-John Muir
I believe our parks have two great secrets. One is nighttime.
The other is winter.
I have dreamed of seeing the Cascades for years. The girls and I had the park entirely to ourselves…miles and miles of frozen cascades.
We were lost in wonder.
Time stood still.
It was a moment of rest, a glimpse of heaven and who we really are.
“By forces seemingly antagonistic and destructive Nature accomplishes her beneficent designs — now a flood of fire, now a flood of ice, now a flood of water; and again in the fullness of time an outburst of organic life.”
-John Muir
Family
The weekend was magical.
We took a trip to Whidbey Island, a place made special by those who live there.
Great-grandparents were loved and soaked up as much as possible in the short time we had.
I can’t begin to describe the healing love of family this week.
As my own heart has worried over various trials in our life, I have been swept up in genuine love this weekend.
Sitting in church together, kids helping spin salad.
Visiting around the table, hugging lots of teddy bears.
Sharing stories, trying not to slip on ice.
Laughing till we cried at trying to get a picture together.
Tearful goodbyes and happy, happy memories stored away.
Arriving home tired, to then find exciting help from my mom with a Christmas present I am making the kids, as well as a box filled to the brim with Christmas magic from Matt’s mom.
Ornaments for our sweet, tiny tree.
I cried, truly, unwrapping them, because of the warm embrace of love I felt, from those who love and know us.
Each one a sweet memory of home and what we love.
Christmas and family are in my heart tonight, though I am far from home and loved ones again.
Love remains.
A very camper Christmas
Adventure and all, it’s Christmastime in the camper.
Preparations are underway for a very small, simple Christmas. The best kind of all. Our happiest Christmases have always been the simplest.
As rain pours around us, and our feet are constantly wet, we are warm, safe, and happy together. I’ve looked forward to this all year.
Love makes it magic. Love makes it Christmas. May your days be merry and bright this month!
Launch out into the deep
“He said unto Simon, Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets…”
Luke 5:4
I have been amazed at the changes in myself during this past year. I asked to know Him, He has given me a path, and I have launched into the deep.
The path is continual. I admit, I was relieved to see my birthday approaching, that this near-drowning year may end. But in my heart, I have known that any true path of commitment never ends.
My will is, again and again, the greatest gift I can offer. To give something I dearly love and want in order to become what He wants. Trusting that what He has in store is even more right for me than what I so dearly wanted. Trusting that hope and happiness lie ahead.
So, I cast away from the shore, and launch out into the deep. I will let my nets down and trust.
Take a look inside
So many people have asked me lately what it’s like to camp for so long with so many kids.
I think that the biggest question I get is, “Do you actually all fit?”
The answer is, yes. Yes, we do.
Even this drooly guy. :)
There is somehow a nook and a cranny for everyone.
We’ve been on an incredible adventure, and I feel blessed for a camper that has sheltered us like home.
There is room for everything that matters.
The key has been to live much more simply, and I believe it’s something anyone could do.
The lessons in a simple life are profound.
Life slows down and becomes much more focused.
Though laundry and dishes are long processes, life still feels so much less cluttered than it once did.
I don’t think that we will ever go back to having quite such a complex life again.
So, while I must admit, I am pining away for Yellowstone and my dear Tetons, I want to give you a tiny glimpse into the home that holds all of our love while we are adventuring.
Everywhere there are little reminders of where we’ve been and things we’ve done and places we have fallen in love with.
Each one is a sweet reminder, and usually an integral part of our day and play.
Each daughter has her own little corner, featuring a painting of her that I did last year.
At night, stars glow overhead.
I’ve learned, more than ever, that “Home is wherever I’m with you.”
Though we look forward to real roots again, we are together, and together, we are home.
Home is where your heart is set in stone
Is where you go when you’re alone
Is where you go to rest your bones
It’s not just where you lay your head
It’s not just where you make your bed
As long as we’re together, does it matter where we go?
-Gabrielle Alpin
A decade and a dream
When she was six years old, she saw Soul Surfer.
She’s never been the same. Something in her clicked on, and every day since then has been all about surfing. On Saturday, she turned ten.
I have wondered how in the world this mountain-dwelling family would give our daughter such a different dream. Luckily, the Lord has even this little girl in the palm of His hand. It’s amazing to me how a way was provided.
So, for her tenth birthday, our daughter learned (or at least began to learn) how to surf.
She had an excellent and patient teacher. Even so, watching my baby walk out into the surf was enough to stop my heart.
It was a small taste of what is to come in my life…all too soon, I will let them each go, to fly to their own dreams. Luckily, each of us is given the right people in our path to help us on our way.
Surfing isn’t an instant skill for most people. So, as with any new thing, there are obstacles to be met and fears to overcome.
On her first try, she got up, but the rush of the water under her feet was both terrifying and thrilling all at once. It got her into her head a bit. She struggled after that. Luckily, her teacher was patient and gave her lots of breaks and calm pep-talks.
Just when I was worried that she didn’t have any more in her, when I was worried that her fears would overcome her and that she would be left with a feeling of failure, the troops arrived. Her sisters, her dad, and her dog came running down the sands, yelling, cheering, and overjoyed at her efforts. All it took was a hug from her dad, and she was a new woman. She would do this.
She didn’t completely pop up, but she made it up to her knees and rode the wave. It was enough. She overcame that fear and felt the thrill of the ride on her last try. More than that, she felt the thrill of courage.
And it struck me…this is what a family is. This is what a family can do. A family doesn’t say, “Hey, sorry kid, you live in the mountains. We don’t surf here.” A family can make dreams happen. A family overcomes their own fears in order to let you dream. It took all the love I had to let her go out there. But most of all, when you feel like you’re failing, when you feel like you can’t succeed, when you feel like you’re on your last breath, your family comes roaring down the sands telling you that you can do this.
This is what a family does. Blessed, blessed am I, to have a family like this.
Worldwide.
Worldwide.
WORLD. Wide.
It still amazes me.
It really started to sink in when I started getting emails from Portugal, Australia, London…
Pennsylvania, Portland, and so many other places.
I really can’t describe how it felt to join with people all over the world like that.
It was like watching a miracle unfold, right in front of my eyes.
Sometimes, I get so discouraged. So discouraged.
Sometimes I feel like the crazy lady on the street corner, yelling and shouting and begging someone, anyone, to listen.
There are times when I just want to quit, but I can’t. I loathe apathy. Congo is just something I can’t ignore, no matter how hard paying attention may be.
So, I keep going, wondering if anyone will hear.
And then, a rush of love so great I literally have no room to receive it.
It filled my heart and then ran over.
Just as I despair at mankind’s apathy, I marvel at its generosity.
Yoga, love, and donations, from all over the world. Some small, some so very great, and all so completely perfect.
I am amazed at what love does.
It changes everything.
I am made new by your love, and now, we have four sisters who will be, as well.
Thank you.
Overwhelmed
I don’t have the words tonight to even begin to talk about it, but I will soon. If you’re reading this and you did yoga, I just want to say thank you. I am amazed at how this cause makes me physically hurt at people’s complacency and ache with love for good, good people, all at once.
More soon. I love you. xo.
I care so much.
“You do care…You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”
– J. K. Rowling
I’ve been working for the past few weeks on Yoga for Congo Women.
It doesn’t seem to matter how long I know about Congo or hear the stories. My heart aches. I literally cannot bear that this is happening and that we are so complacent about it. I think if I didn’t at least try to do something, I would cease to exist.
I don’t really care if this post sounds overly dramatic. I mean every word. Yes, I’m raw this week, but I always mean it. These women are my sisters, and you never turn away from a sister who needs you.
And I don’t subscribe to that “white woman’s burden” crap (sorry, I’m tired). This isn’t a white burden. This is a human burden.
So, I have a challenge for you. If you’ve been reading my blog for long at all, you know how much Yoga for Congo means to me.
This year, a thrilling change has come about: you can now join us, no matter where you live.
For the first time ever, we are holding a worldwide Yoga for Congo event. It will be completely online. This means that, Saturday, you could join me for Yoga for Congo without leaving the safety and comfort of your own home.
You can make a difference in your pajamas. How amazing is that?
All you need is one hour and the internet. Can it get easier?
Find out more here. Please!
A (late) farewell to summer
“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”
– L.M. Montgomery
(I tried birthday videos for a while there, but I got so behind… I’m going to try to do “season” videos for a while. Maybe 4 evenly spaced videos will be easier to keep up with than 6 closer-together videos? We’ll see. Hope you enjoy some of our sweetest memories of a beautiful mountain summer.) :)
Shipwrecked
“The Peter Iredale was a four-masted steel barque sailing vessel that ran ashore October 25, 1906, on the Oregon coast en route to the Columbia River.”
“Sailing from Salina Cruz, Mexico, on or about September 26, 1906, the Peter Iredale was bound for Portland, Oregon with 1,000 tons of ballast and a crew of 27, including two stowaways.”
“The voyage up the coast was unremarkable until the night of October 25, when Captain H. Lawrence sighted the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse at 3:20 a.m. local time.”
“The crew altered course first east-northeast and then northeast to enter the mouth of the Columbia River in thick mist and a rising tide.”
“Under strong winds out of the west, an attempt was made to wear the ship away from shore, but a heavy northwest squall grounded the Peter Iredale on Clatsop Sands.”
“High seas and wind drove the ship ashore.”
“A lifeboat was dispatched from Hammond, Oregon and assisted in evacuating the sailors, who were tended to at Fort Stevens. No casualties occurred in the accident.”
“After several weeks waiting for favorable weather and ocean conditions, the ship had listed to the port and become embedded in the sands.”
“Captain Lawrence’s final toast to his ship was: ‘May God bless you, and may your bones bleach in the sands.'”
– Wikipedia, Peter Iredale
Spending a day with the Peter Iredale was a turning point for me.
It was almost like I could hear the voices of the past.
The tragic beauty struck me.
My birthday is on Saturday. This year has been a greater mountain to climb than I ever could have imagined. Seeing this ship, I thought I knew how it felt.
I wanted to read its story, and when I did, I was surprised. I had expected to read of men suffering and dying, and of great tragedy. But I didn’t. I read of help dispatched and of no casualties. I read of a Captain who gave his ship a parting blessing, as though the wreck were worthy of remembrance.
And here she stays, her bones still in the sand, like the life of her rose and went on and only the shell remained.
We all have wrecks and crossroads in our lives, where we can choose to leave what we once were behind, letting our bones bleach in the sand, and keep on. My new birthday goal? :)
New horizons
“Whilst I viewed those mountains, I felt a secret pleasure in finding myself so near the head of the–heretofore conceived–boundless Missouri. But when I reflected on the difficulties which this snowy barrier would most probably throw in my way to the Pacific Ocean, and the sufferings and hardships of myself and the party in them, it in some measure counterbalanced the joy I had felt in the first moments in which I gazed on them. But, as I have always held it little short of criminality to anticipate evils, I will allow it to be a good, comfortable road until I am compelled to believe otherwise.”
-William Clark
One thing that we have loved the most about our little adventure is the history we are swimming in.
The girls have become fascinated with Lewis and Clark, York, Sacagawea, and, of course, their Newfie, Seaman. (Seaman gives me hope for our sweet Charlie boy. :) )
We’ve hiked the paths they hiked. We’ve climbed Tillamook Head, the mountain that Lewis and Clark climbed to find the beached blue whale on the sands of Cannon Beach.
We’ve discovered ancient forests, bursting with life, death, and quiet, peaceful ghosts of times past.
We’ve looked down from the mountain onto the ocean, much as they did. Even though it was very foggy that day, it was an amazing experience.
We’ve visited the replication of their winter fort and walked through the rooms.
In all of this, the girls have found even deeper reserves of courage and adventure, wonder and awe.
The girls’ sense of adventure fills me and pushes me onward.
(Taking the oath as Junior Rangers at Lewis and Clark National Park.)
I’ve found that what inspires me most in this story is the fact that Lewis and Clark knew it would be hard, but they wouldn’t allow themselves to focus on it. They kept their hearts on their hopes, and so should we.
“We were now about to penetrate a country at least two thousand miles in width, on which the foot of civilized man had never trod. The good or evil it had in store for us was for experiment yet to determine, and these little vessels contained every article by which we were to expect to subsist or defend ourselves. However, as the state of mind in which we are, generally gives the coloring to events, when the imagination is suffered to wander into futurity, the picture which now presented itself to me was a most pleasing one. Entertaining as I do the most confident hope of succeeding in a voyage which had formed a darling project of mine for the last ten years, I could but esteem this moment of my departure as among the most happy of my life.”
-Meriwether Lewis
Haystack, tidepools, and life
“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”
– Rachel Carson
“In every outthrust headland, in every curving beach, in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth.”
– Rachel Carson
Secrets of the sea
“My soul is full of longing for the secrets of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Uprooted
“All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go, to highlands or lowlands, woods or plains, on the sea or land or down among the crystals of waves or high in a balloon in the sky; through all the climates, hot or cold, storms and calms, everywhere and always we are in God’s eternal beauty and love.” – John Muir
I have to admit to feeling uprooted.
We are discovering new beauties, places so lush with life that they literally take our breath away.
We pass our days from wonder to wonder.
I do miss the sharp bite of the pines in the air. I miss the starkly clean mountain air I love. I miss it terribly, even more than I thought I would.
But for the first time, I am discovering salty sea air.
Thundering waves and whale spouts.
Sea breezes and sunshine.
I met a woman the other day who told me she sits by the ocean because when she hears the crash of the water, she can’t hear her own thoughts any more.
I find that when I sit by the water, the waves wash out my thoughts. The foam and flotsam sift out, and the pure thoughts remain. The clarity and peace return. The knowledge that our path is unusual, but right, returns.
And so, onward we go. :)
To dare more boldly
Spouting Horn – my ocean Old Faithful
Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Thor’s Well
Disturb us, Lord, when
with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wilder seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push back the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.
– Sir Francis Drake
Finding herself
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
e.e. cummings
————-
Best things I have heard this week:
“This is the BEST day of my entire life!”
“I feel like this place has been waiting for me for a long time.”
“If we become super poor, can we just live on the beach all the time?”
“Mom, you feel a connection to the forest, right? I feel a connection to the ocean. I feel the sand and the waves and I know what they are feeling.”
– all by my surf-dreaming girl
Saying goodbye
“Everything is flowing — going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks… While the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood…in
Nature’s warm heart.”
– John Muir
No matter how far away I am, this place will be in my pocket, wherever I go.
And so, on our bold adventure we go.
Lessons learned from Charlie
(This is an old post…I’m in Oregon now! Posts are going to come in bursts, when I can find enough internet connectivity to upload them as they come!)
I’m surprised by how Charlie has changed my life.
In many, many ways, he’s made it a lot harder. I knew that he would. We’ve had a puppy once before, and sadly, I couldn’t do it. I tried. But it was awful and I finally had to give him to some kids on a farm.
The puppy phase is just hard. If you’re not a dog person, it can be just awful.
(Trying to convince Charlie that he is, in fact, a water dog.)
Don’t get me wrong…Charlie is an all-star puppy. He was potty trained in a week. He is very obedient and incredibly smart. But he’s still a puppy. He has crazy bursts of energy and nipping and barking.
But as I have tried to learn everything I can about how to help and fulfill Charlie, I’ve found myself changing.
The biggest thing that Charlie has taught me is to start over. Dogs don’t dwell. They don’t rehash about the past, and they don’t worry about the future. Charlie doesn’t worry about yesterday. He lives right now.
Charlie is excited to wake up, every day. He doesn’t think about the mistakes he made yesterday. What’s more, he doesn’t think about the mistakes I made yesterday.
We could all learn a thing or two from that. :)
