“November is usually such a disagreeable month…as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully…just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We've had lovely days and delicious twilights.”
– LM Montgomery
Lucy Maude captures my love for these days better than I. So grateful for chance to wander the lanes with my boy on a still afternoon.
We decided to be proactive and make some things ahead this year. You know, instead of waking at dawn and killing myself for 6 or 7 hrs straight before we graciously dine in thanksgiving. I realize to most normal people with some years of cooking experience under their belts this is not groundbreaking stuff. For whatever reason it hasn't fallen together this way for us very often.
We have three pies, a large pan of apple crisp, and one of the three smallish turkeys made. Our European ovens are small so we are moving a small flock of turkeys (or rather a flock of small turkeys) through the kitchen to feed our friends and family. Real dough turned out to be much more engrossing than play dough. The three littles sat rolling and making and remaking dozens of small pastries while I made pies.
The boys spent the afternoon vacuuming and cleaning their rooms. They are teen and preteen boys so this was not as idyllic as it sounds in print. It took allllll afternoon and the vacuum did not survive the venture. But it's mostly done and ready for their big brother's arrival tomorrow. It still seems surreal he will be here in this kitchen tomorrow.
Abbie asked if this was our first thanksgiving with Asher. I said no but it's the first one in a long time, so maybe it's the first for her (that she remembers.) She said oh, because when you were a little girl you had Thanksgiving with him. Newly 6yo logic and time perception and all. ; ) We probably won't be so fortunate next year so we are all especially thankful for these few days we get.
And you? Are you pinching pie crusts and drying out bread for stuffing?
“For whereas speaking distracts, silence and work collect the thoughts and strengthen the spirit. As soon therefore as a person understands what has been said to him for his good, there is not further need to hear or to discuss; but to set himself in earnest to practice what he has learnt with silence and attention, in humility, charity, and contempt of self.”
– St John of the Cross
So many stories to tell. Don't mind if I just jump right in and insert this one wildly out of chronological order, do you? So that trip to Dartmoor a couple months ago was a huge bucket list check mark for me. Probably I've said that before. Who knows anymore. Bottom line, I was such a horse geek growing up. I was on a horse before I could walk and my bedroom wall was plastered with posters like these. Though the names and shapes were memorized it seemed unlikely I would ever see some of these up close. We had Quarter horses, Appaloosas, and Arabians. We knew people who had a Standardbred. We saw Thoroughbreds on TV. Everything else was wildy exotic in the upper midwest in the 70's.
I had cut my reading teeth on Misty and Blaze books and was devoted to my own little Shetland. But a Welsh or a Dartmoor? Only in my dreams. Which explains how truly surreal it was standing near an older British lady sporting a purple jumper discussing a naughty foal nibbling the cafe sign nearly 4000mi away from the place I taped that poster 35yrs prior. She shared my enthusiasm and said, "Now we won't keep you another moment. Go on and enjoy!"
And I did. I really, really did.
The ponies run free at Dartmoor. They are mostly private herds now, but farmers can use the range land for grazing. When we crossed the cattle grids entering the park a small herd had meandered up to the parking area. The rest of the family dove into their lunches but I was slipping between cars to get up close to the ponies. They didn't hang around long but we did get to snap a few pictures before they were on their way.
If you have lingered here at all you already know – where ponies (or goats) are involved I lose all sense whatsoever. Because hello? PONIES!!!!!!! C'mon, c'mon….
Why you do not bring your sports car to Dartmoor. Just sayin'.
There has been precious little outside walking happening in recent weeks between rain and schedule. I stepped out for a bit after it let up to soak up the smell of wet earth and run my hands along the cold iron fences. In the distance farm hands called from the barn and a dog barked. Right where I stood however not a thing was moving and that was beautiful. When the world slows its pell-mell pace for a moment it's good to just stand there and notice the still.
The day began all the better for damp cuffs.
Hearken to these things, Job: Stand, and consider the wondrous works of God.
- Job 37:14
Long stewing chicken soup, a staple for these damp November days. This pot with chunks of leftover butternut squash.
When I was one,
I had just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six
now and forever.
a.a. milne
Can we do this? Six forever? I am working on my pitch but I don't think she'll bite. She's growing at a good pace now and not likely to turn back any time soon.
Six has never been easy for me. I thought I wrote about that long ago but if I did it's been so long it is now buried away someplace. Still fresh in my heart though. When Colin our oldest was still this size and I was newer at the mom job (a beginner mom if you will ; )) the significance of those first six years was impressed upon me. Deeply impressed. During those first six years a child could pick up languages and absorb new skills far more easily than later in life. The human brain would never again grow at such a tremendous rate. It felt really really BIG. I was in charge of a human brain and was bent on filling it to capacity with experiences and knowledge and art and music and…..then it happened.
That little man had a birthday. The big S-I-X. All I could think of was that metaphorical window that had just slammed shut. Had I done enough? Had I wasted precious moments in those years? Had we met his potential? So many thoughts rushed in at me.
Now we all are older, hopefully wiser. I chuckle now over some of the worries I had then. Most of them. Other questions I would continue to ask. Have I done enough? Have we made good use of our time together?
In all I would walk through those miraculous first six years ten times over. While many parents long to survive that span it has always been pure joy for me. Ok not potty training. Or colic. That wasn't joy. But the rest? Incredible. Each new tiny person seemed more entertaining and amazing than the last. I have gotten a rush every time I put together Montessori trays or made playdough or blew bubbles in the yard.
We are working through our learn to read book for very likely the last time. Knowing this makes it possible to listen to phonetic combinations drawn out painfully sloooooooowly, the verbal equivalent of early violin lessons. We have sent the last of the 'first' Tooth Fairy letters. There is one training wheel (a stabilizer here in England) left on a tiny pink bike. I told my husband it feels much like walking through a vacation cabin shutting doors and closing up after a very good season. All her firsts are our lasts, lending a poignancy to each.
It has been a wonderful extended stay in the world of little people. I do so hope that we will enjoy visits to this fairy land again as grandchildren join us.
For now though, we are six.
If the theme looks familiar, yes she wanted to wear her Halloween costume one more time and do things up Disney. Alannah made her cupcakes to match and her daddy blew up enough balloons to float the table away. : )
"What are you doing?" The new cashier looked puzzled as her trainer walked over to the register and stuffed handfuls of leftover Halloween candy stock into my grocery bags.
"It's ok," she replies, "I KNOW her! She's got kids! LOTS of kids. You give these to your babies. They'll eat them!" Then she pressed a piece of chocolate into the palm of my hand. "You take this one. I want you to eat this one in the car on your way home now."
Though we have privileges at a large military commissary I often prefer to shop at the smaller grocery store closer to home. There are fewer cashiers and fewer options and sometimes that's really a nice thing. It's a quick grocery trip versus an outing, an event. Since we eat a whole lot there are many quick trips over the course of a year, especially during sports seasons when the boys play right around the corner. We have become regulars and now when we check out they ask about whichever children are not with me. When I left my ID card in the car last time, my favorite clerk waved me on.
"I KNOW you!"
In our experience it takes about two years in a place to reach this point of really knowing and being known. Two years means you see familiar faces at the store. Two years means you get halfway to your destination and notice the GPS is in the other car and it's no big deal. Two years means your kid probably knows at least one other kid on the team at the beginning of the season. Thing is, if you are a military mom, two years also often means the clock is ticking and next year this time it will reset itself in a new place.
That is probably what got me all whimpery and teary eyed reading this today:
“But I won’t have any friends there. We don’t know anyone there,” my older daughter cried…. I swallowed hard. When we think of leaving it is not: can we take our favorite couch? It is not: how big is my new bedroom? It is not: does the neighborhood have a pool? When we think of leaving, the faces of those we will desperately miss is what immediately comes to mind. When it’s time to say goodbye, we are powerfully reminded that the most important things in life aren’t things. And just like me, my children instantly felt the need for familiar faces—people who know us."
It's that.
It's that which makes me hesitate for a half second when people proclaim how we have aaaaallllll the luck and how they'd love to go on vacation so many places. The thing is, this isn't vacation – where you leave all the regular stuff in its regular place and then return back to it. It's a stepping out into a vast unknown. It's about trying to find a dentist who understands the one child who doesn't like novacaine, finding a house that is wheelchair friendly and will allow that scruffy rescue dog because your kids have had enough goodbyes. It is figuring out where there is a good piano teacher. It's about getting a doctor up to speed on who has had what. It's about locating that perfect team so kids can plug back into community. It's about praying fervently that those connections are made sooner vs later, ending that awful in-between time of not knowing and not being known.
We are so very blessed. When a meme floated around urging people to get out of their comfort zone, befriend folks who don't share your first language, are not your same age, etc I thought well, we have that one down pat. That is our life! It's worth every bit of the effort it has required. It does require a fair amount of gumption though.
Military moms will tell you so. They will tell you of kids crying across the country on flights to new homes. About kids sitting on beds surrounded by boxes announcing with certainty that there are NO friend options in this new place, that it will NEVER be like the last place. They will tell you about all the encouraging things you counter with, while inside you are secretly thinking the very same things.
They will also say they know in their heart of hearts that there is always an email, an invitation, a mutual friend, a compassionate new neighbor. There is always eventually a hand extended in welcome. We are in that stage right now, reassuring each other and reminding of all those wonderful ways things have fallen together in other places. EVERY other place. As wrenching as it always is to leave, there will come a day when the new place is as dear to us. It is hard to see that on the leaving end, but it is true.
I have a small chocolate wrapper in my hand to prove it.
Big thoughts and big news have taken all our waking hours lately. Come evening I sit down here and mean to share it all and then…..nothing. I am all thought out by then. There seems to be too much to say or not enough to make sense. So I ramble on a bit just like this and then delete and go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat and you have a fair picture of the past few weeks.
The big news is that our life is changing again. It isn't entirely unexpected. In a few months our visas here will expire and we turn into a pack of Cinderellas. We knew this. We have been planning for this. In many ways it is time. We have a new daughter-in-love and are anxious to be closer. Our older daughters are looking at the next steps in their lives and those steps are leading across the ocean. We miss our sons. This particular adventure has stretched out longer than we first expected and we have wrung every drop of joy from it we could. There are no regrets. But there are going to be new chapters, new places, new experiences. Lots of new.
This past year has been one long mystery. We knew transition was coming but as the months unfolded it became clear that it was not taking shape as expected. Going into this European journey we fully expected to return to our very familiar life in Colorado eventually. In retrospect it was that safety net that gave me the courage to step on the plane and go. While we dove head first into new places and experiences, there was in the back of my mind a forever, never-changing place that would follow. As time passed and that white-knuckled grip on "familiar" has loosened slowly and steadily I had a sneaking suspicion that God had another plan.
Turns out He definitely did.
There have been nudges along the way that this was more than just a little foray in adventure. Rather it was to be a way of life that was to extend beyond Europe for some time to come. Without belaboring all the ways the pieces fell together I can tell you that we are heading to snowy peaks of Utah in a few months. Once again, we are not certain for how long. We are still sorting out short-term logistics. We have accepted a position there but now are working out where we will live, who is coming with us, where people are going to college next year.
There may not ever come the day when I can string together a series of in-depth essays here and really, that is ok too. These pages record the overflow of a full active life. I have, however, had a lot of random thoughts about change, big family living, and what is transient and permanent. This involves a ton of organizing, planning, decision making. We have to be exceptionally tuned-in to each other to ensure everyone makes the transition as peacefully and positively as possible. It seems like these things might also speak to others out there so they will find there way to these pages and this is the prelude of sorts, explaining.
Life, it's a wild ride. It's unpredictable, it stretches us far and wide, makes us brave if we let it, and rewards with great blessings we just can't see til we are right upon them. I wouldn't want to miss it, so I am buckling up for the next stretch.
Let's do this, shall we?
Starry Sky Journal 