Week-old reflections on city dwelling, and other updates.

In mid-May, Michael and I relocated to Ballard, in NW Seattle. We loved Camano, and miss it, but he was ever commuting and I had little luck finding a job that wasn’t an hour or more away. In the fall, I will also start back up at the University of Washington, which is just a few miles from us here, so that also was an added incentive to find someplace closer. We are fortunate to have been able to find a wonderful place here, and that we could afford to move when we did. Michael and his dad actually just remodeled the apartment we moved in to, so it is almost like brand new save for the layout—it is the top level of one of the sweet old houses that seem to make up the majority of this area of town.

City living is something that, while you remember it well once you’ve done it, is drastically different city to city, apartment to apartment, street to street. In Chicago I was so far back in the building that street noise was usually only audible when an ambulance or fire truck passed by; otherwise the only sound came from my landlord’s office next door, someone passing through the hallway to get to the street or garage, or my upstairs neighbors. However, one of the things that I often wished I had there was more natural light: the studio usually only capted a tiny bit of sunshine, in the morning or afternoon depending on the time of year. This for that, I suppose!

Michael and I have never really lived anywhere near downtown, though being from “the Seattle area” when you introduce yourself elsewhere in the country makes you feel as if you know it like the back of your hand. After moving back from Georgia, we quickly realized how little we knew it, let alone all of the other areas that have been growing (perhaps a bit akin to the speed of weeds, to be totally frank...) between the city and Camano. We were familiar with Lynnwood, Stanwood, and Camano. Not too helpful when you are looking for somewhere to live closer to the city. I was completely intimidated by the search for a place to rent, having no inkling of many areas, commute routes, and what a fair price really was. In Ballard we found a location that very much feels like it’s own little neighborhood, but that is close to the locks, the zoo, University Village and the UW, and I-5. Of course, “close” is sometimes relative...usually between the hours of 8-10am and 3-7pm :) Everything just seems to take a lot longer then, for some reason!

So we are acclimating to a new city, slowly but surely. It has been hard being quite far away from my parents, but fortunately we have more time now to plan our weekends, and often get to see both families. I guess, really, we are just arriving at a certain state of normalcy—most people don’t live down the street from their parents forever! Not to say it is a negative thing if you do. Being here has given us so much opportunity to spend more time together and to enjoy discovering our part of the city at our leisure. I recently also started a job at Pottery Barn in University Village, which has been a fun experience so far. Last week I took the bus here for the first time, which brought back many memories from Chicago. It is a strange experience riding with complete strangers. While there are times where it can be uncomfortable in the wrong way, lately I am feeling urged (through reading and prayer) to “hang out” in the discomfort of “doing life” with others around you. I think that today, we usually see others as an inconvenience, especially when they cut us off on the freeway, take the last good apple, or that back seat we wanted to shrink into on the metro. You can’t expect to meet or get to know them all, and that is not at all what I am advocating. Having said that, will it really hurt you to say hello to someone sitting next to you, to ask who the flowers are for, or what’s for dinner? I was pleasantly surprised to meet a father on his way to his daughter’s middle school graduation last week, rose in hand. He went on and on about how girls are so much easier, and he was so happy to have two. (This is the first of his two to embark into high school next fall, so I’d love to have a follow-up with him after that first semester!) In certain contexts, I might have thought that was a bit of a strange thing to say, but come to find out he has five sisters. Makes sense, then! It was a conversation that will likely be the only one we’ll share, but it was sure better than sitting awkwardly in each others’ personal space in silence. So go out, say hi to the person you find yourself next to the next time you’re riding a bus or a train. Who knows—you might even become friends! Years ago I was on the train to Portland and ended up sitting next to someone my age; we struck up a conversation and kept in touch for many years, though we’ve lost touch now. You never know!

The following segment was from about 10 days ago, and the Chicago Blackhawks have since become repeat winners of the Stanley Cup!!! We were so happy to be able to watch what ended up being the last game at our home with Michael's brother and sister-in-law. We could hardly believe the last 6 minutes of the game, in which Boston scored to make it a one-goal game, followed by a goal to tie it from Chicago in the second-to-last minute. At that point, I was really preparing myself for Game 7. However, we were rewarded for our cheers with a second Chicago goal to make it a one-goal score in our favor, just 17 seconds later! With just 58 seconds left in the game, we hoped against hope that that was it...and it was! Pretty sure our next door neighbors thought we were crazy, but we really didn't mind :) [I do my best to avoid falling into superstitions, but the past few years that has been hard when it comes time for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. This year, despite the delay of a multi-month lockout, hockey has been a constant presence in our home(s) and we have really enjoyed it. Following the Chicago Blackhawks has also been particularly fun, since they were the number one team in the entire league for all but a few days somewhere about two thirds of the way through the regular season! This week we are in full swing of the final series in the playoffs, trying to stave off the Boston Bruins from an earlier repeat than us with the cup (they won in 2011, the year following us in 2010). Unfortunately, we have lost the last two games and are down 2-1 in the series. All of that to say that if you have any kind of lucky ritual and feel like giving it a whirl for our Chi-town boys, I won’t stop you!]

Les Misérables--what a story! (SPOILER ALERT)

I suppose I might be embarassed to admit that only as of yesterday have I "read" Les Misérables, the classic by Victor Hugo. Many of my friends from highschool and college lauded it as one of their most favorite and loved books, but I just never got around to reading it. Technically, I still haven't; I purchased the unabridged (more on that mistake later) version in audio form on the second day of our cross-country roadtrip way back in January when I realized that the playlist I'd made for myself, despite the four new albums I'd purchased on iTunes with my Christmas money, was not going to cut it after about the 10th continual play on the first day! My dad had urged me to listen to an audio book, that it helped to pass the time quickly, etc. So I did!

Unthinkingly, I purchased, as mentioned above, the unabridged version of this classic tale. Don't get me wrong--I love history and Hugo is amazingly adept at painting extremely detailed pictures of any number of people or moments. However, listening to a rendering of the battle at Waterloo for hours on end was not something I signed up for. But having no knowledge of the story hitherto, I buckled up and kept on! 57.5 hours later, I really am glad that I did.

The character of Jean Valjean, who is the main protagonist amidst a host of complex individuals, is one that could only be painted over this much time, I think. An accidental criminal in his youth who was only trying to feed his impoverished siblings, a single loaf of bread stolen would impact the entire trajectory of his life. After many years in the galleys he went on to become the main benefactor and mayor of an entire region and the father figure/caretaker to an orphaned girl who quite literally lit up his life with joy. (I have, obviously, oversimplified the story and his life in the interest of time and minimizing mix-up. Indulge me.) Cosette, who's mother he previously became quite dear friends with and whose death he witnessed firsthand (and who had literally given everything of herself in order to protect her daughter, whom she did not see for the better part of her life), becomes an angel to him, and in a sense his salvation. In her he is given a distraction from himself for those who seek after him to arrest him and give him his "due"--and who understand nothing of the true origins of his punishable actions, or at least of where they started.

I could easily go on and continue my brief summary of this team of characters who paint a wrenching picture of the various miseries of life, but I don't feel it necessary to say what I want to. In Hugo's France, hopelessness sometimes becomes depravity, yet poverty also may breed hope eternal. Love is often an underlying theme, save for in descriptions of certain characters whose sole desire is to acquire riches and who will stop at nothing to get them, however fleeting the wealth may be once attained.

Yesterday, I finished the story. For those of you familiar with it, you will surely recall the gut-wrenching final chapters wherein Cosette's new husband, having been told by Jean Valjean himself of the "father's" true past and identity, slowly marginalizes the old man from his wife's life. The former feels this is a fate deserved, and that he is finally serving his true penance for his past crimes. However, Marius (Cosette's husband) does not know that it is Jean Valjean who saved his life when the émeute exploded in Paris, and to whom he also owes the honor of marrying the girl he fell in love with in secret. It all comes to a head when a rascal we are quite familiar with by this time, Thenardier, comes to Marius and tells him what he thinks is true and will get him lots of money thanks to his frankness with the man now rich thanks to Cosette's inheritance. The final scene reunites Jean Valjean to his beloved "daughter", and sees Marius' pain in knowing the hurt he has caused this dear old man to whom he owed nearly everything. As I cooked dinner, I wept as I listened to the final scene; on his deathbed Jean Valjean finally sees his Cosette one last time, and sees Marius forgive him and take true ownership of the wealth bequeathed him, knowing it now to be legitimate. As they beg and plead for him to return home with them to live out his final days, he verily glows as an angel in his joy of being with the two beings he adores most in his dying breath. The book ends with the words written on Jean Valjean's gravestone, alluding to Cosette and her saving grace being the light of his life.

That final chapter, to me, painted a picture of true love in many ways: in Marius and Cosette's love, Marius' respect and love that explodes for the "father-in-law" whom he misunderstood, and the love and adoration shared between Jean Valjean and Cosette. Would that we all ended our earthly lives as he does, in the arms of love in the truest sense, and feeling his bishop calling him Home and seeing the Light. The sadness of this moment is one tinged with angelic joy of  true redemption, and one that seems quite apropos this Holy Week. As Jean Valjean (though the comparison is a bit vulgar, perhaps), Jesus Christ separated Himself from the One who was his True Love in order to save us, those whom the Trinity seeks to save and love with such a love as we can never fathom in our earthly minds. May we remember, and may we feel an angelic sense of gratitude though the tears fall from our eyes as a river.

A moment in the Lenten season

This morning I was struck by a particular verse in the Lenten devotional I am following this year by Walt Wangerin. I was a bit behind, so read three of the "days". All of them dealt to some degree with Jesus' judgement by the Sanhedrin, and what struck me was the "holy silence" he kept in that room until the crucial time juxtaposed with the utter depravity of the actions of those judging Him whom they did not recognize. Wangerin makes clear to the reader that, though we might think of those men as "below us" or that we would have acted markedly differently from them in that situation, the opposite is much more likely. The verse that he paired from John 3 reads:

And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God.                                                               [verses 19 and 20]

While for many this might sound harsh, one of the principal things that emerges from the Lenten season before Easter (at least as I experience it) is a sort of return to a consciousness of this "holy harshness". What Jesus did wasn't to give us a field of flowers and bunny rabbits and Easter eggs--though God created all things of beauty for our pleasure. He came and was brutally murdered against the better judgement of the very man who could have stopped it, but who was swayed by a crowd of mockers. It is shocking to be reminded of our likeness to those mockers. Originally all created in the Lord's image, He was forced to send one that the majority of His own did not even recognize--despite all kinds of signs and prophecies to that end--to die. Having said this, it is true that at that time there were also many faithful followers amidst Jesus' closest family, friends, and disciples who refused to mock him. But is it not made clear how sinful we are when we reflect upon Peter's denial--this one who had so avidly repeated to Jesus his undying love and alliance across all trials and tribulations, even to death? The irony brings me pause. As the teacher he has sworn his allegiance to is condemned to death by those that could recite the prophecies of His coming by heart, Peter warms his hands by a fire where he denies his master three times in a row.

So: harshness. It is here, there, and everywhere in the story of Jesus' accusation, condemnation, and death. However, we who live so many years after it happened have the luxury of forgetting the harshness for the love that was therein expressed and the victory of the Resurrection. This morning, I am struck to wonder at the "before" of the Easter story, and my participation thousands of years later in the very death of my Lord and the only One who could save me from my sinful ways. He will rise, indeed; but first, He must die the death that I should have done.

Back in the Pacific NW

I had really hoped to post more on our trip home from Georgia, but it ended up being quite a thrash and we did more driving than sleeping for the most part! And somehow, finding a viable wireless connection and taking the time to plunk out a few lines on my phone usually only crossed my mind around mile 300 of the day, when I was far from anything! However, it was an amazing journey. Some of the highlights:

• Diners: Some of my favorite moments occurred in the small, down-home places we stopped for lunch, dinner, and even breakfast once. We were often half-dazed from the first half or full day driving, but it is wonderful to arrive at a place where you are clearly one of the few customers who is not a regular. One of the best places like this was called Penny's Diner, located in Rawlins, Wyoming. The wind was incredible, and we found ample warmth and sustenance inside the "stretch" Airstream-like trailer they had fashioned into a classic diner, complete with classic EARLY 60's (probably even a few late 50's) Beatles songs. That was definitely one of the best strawberry milkshakes I've ever had! Needless to say, my "cholesterol-healthy food watch" went on hiatus for the 7 days on the road...
• Rolling hills, a.k.a. Wyoming: Driving through Wyoming is really like nothing I'd ever driven through before. The amount of unadulterated, snow-covered hills was stunning and refreshing to see. We even happened to notice a man on his horse with his sheepdogs, herding. Glimpses like that into what used to be more of a "normal" life certainly refocus your perspective on what is really "hard" or "challenging" in our day to day!
• Les Misérables, audio version: Encouraged by my dad to look into some audio books for the trip, I immediately thought of Les Mis, since it is a book that I never got around to reading despite having many close friends who had read it practically yearly. Thanks to the arrival of the blockbuster movie in theaters last month, I felt an urgency to get it listened to on this cross-country journey. After purchasing a decent version (though not in the original French, as I'd hoped--iTunes, international copyright laws, or some combination thereof made it impossible to find a version on my phone) I began that audio journey on Day 2. I still have at least 10 hours to listen to! Should have looked into a slightly abridged version; I knew it was long, but heaven help you if you are easily bored by battle or cultural accounts that go on for literally hours on end. I am fascinated by much of it, but after the 6th hour of driving definitely wished I'd been able to find an alternative version! Needless to say, that is still a "listening in progress" and I haven't yet gotten to see the movie. C'est la vie, as it were.
• [Relatively] happy and well-behaved kitties: Taffy and Mater were troopers, despite their Day 7 meltdown in the litter box. We got them a travel crate that was really more suited for a small lab, but I wanted them to have as much space as possible for the 3,700 mile journey. Thanks to "Daddy" Michael, they were blessed also with a literally Portable Potty--a quadruple reinforced cardboard box bunjee corded to their crate (it opened on three sides so they had access anytime) and containing a water container and small litter box. Getting them to and from each hotel room, while a bit of a production every evening and morning, quickly became routine. The Day 7 meltdown I referred to really just solidified for us all that we HAD to get home that day, or else there were going to be much bigger fish to fry...

Overall, it was a pretty smooth moving experience. I don't really look forward to having to move again in the next year or two to a more permanent home, but we will take that as it comes, when it does! What a blessing it was to have both of our families to help us unload the trucks the day after our arrival to Camano. We are done with the bulk of the unpacking, and all that's really left now is for Michael to figure out what to do with all of his extra Army gear and where to put his tools in the garage. It is truly wonderful to be back on Camano, and to be up the street from my parents in my grandfather's house. That being said, my parents and I have some work ahead of us to completely clear out the rest of the storage areas that they hadn't yet gotten to since Grandpa's move to assisted living a few years ago. 

Michael started work with his father, Erik, this past Monday. I think that aside from being completely exhausted by a totally new job and a bit of a commute (1 hr each way...which isn't really too bad when one lives on an island!), he is one happy camper! It seems like practically all he's talked about the past year or so has been how many days he has left in the Army and how long until he gets to do what he wants and feels God is calling him to (which happen to have been inextricably intertwined, as you may guess!). We are very lucky to be so close to both families, and I'm so glad to no longer have to worry about how many hours are spent with everyone, like we used to have to do on our two week visits on holidays. I've come down with a bad cold the past few days, so haven't been down to visit Lynnwood since we first arrived, but plan to do so more regularly starting next week. Of course, I'll also be looking for work, so if you know anyone locally (Camano to Stanwood to Mount Vernon to Smokey Point would be the general perimeter, I think.) please let me know! At this time, I will likely be seeking out administrative or leasing positions, though certainly teaching opportunities would be amazing. That will almost for sure be something that I have to seek out in person, though, and that probably would take a little more time. I am continually asking God to help me to stay open to what He has ahead for me, since this is such a huge transition for us. 

If any of you would like our new address, please let me know. Blessings to you & yours!

Testing 1, 2, 3...

I had hoped to blog throughout our trip home this coming week (obviously not while driving, but with some photos and snippets here & there), but have had little to no luck with the Blogger app I've downloaded to my phone. So, hopefully it was just a glitch on my first try--here's hoping this one works!