So we bought a house...

Well, when I wrote the post How God gave me something better than a house, little did I know that in less than two weeks Greg would be offered a new job, and in another month we would be moved to a new town (Eugene), and in less than six months we would have purchased our first house. But, here we are.

As I write this, I'm sitting in the living room of our house, looking out the window at people walking their dogs in the park across the street. Ah, love this view.

A great daydreaming window, and it's low to the ground. Even Nora can see out of it.

We have been officially in the house (as in sleeping here) going on three weeks now, although we got the keys to the house over a month ago. Since Christmas we have been busy working on the house.

Jonathan and Leesi both helped rip the wallpaper off.
Not all of it came off in nice big strips like this. Some of it came off in tiny shreds. 

Jonathan helping Grandpa with the nail gun. 

And working on the house. And working on the house. And working on the house. Oh, and moving and cleaning the other house and watching three kids. So there was a lot to do in just a little bit of time. It was pretty exciting and fun at certain times, overwhelming at others, and most of the time downright exhausting.

Greg had a week off in between Christmas and New Years. And my parents came down and stayed with us for a week and a half to help. (They were life-savers! We couldn't have done it without them; and lots of help from other people too: babysitting by Wanda, moving help from Uncle Rick and McKenzie, meals from Debbie, painting help from Sarah and Stead).

We decided to focus on the main living areas and leave the improvements on the rest of the house for another time.

In the kitchen we ripped out the wallpaper, tore up the flooring (which ended up being quite the job!), and took down the cabinet doors to be repainted. We found that the walls beneath the wallpaper were not in great shape. So we (by which I mean my dad) ended up skim coating the walls, and while he was at it he skim coated the paneling in the eat-in kitchen area so that it would look smooth like drywall too. We put in the new bamboo flooring, painted everywhere, and installed new baseboard. My mom was the super cupboard door painter. Last week I finally finished off the ones she didn't get to, and Greg installed them and a couple new light fixtures, so I figured it was time for some kitchen before and afters!

Eat-in area off of kitchen - before

Eat-in area - after

Kitchen - before (how could you forget?) 

Kitchen - after

Kitchen - after (from the other angle)

There is still a lot to do: many boxes still to unpack, a list of projects, and little finishing details everywhere you look, plus pictures and curtains to be made and hung. But all in all it is starting to feel like our home around here. And it's super fun to know that whatever we do with the space is up to us! We don't have to ask anyone before we paint, we can pick whatever colors we want, we can drill holes in any wall we choose. 

More pictures to come!

Can I help?

I am one of those people who like things to be a certain way. This is not to say that everything has to be my way, but if it's one of my things then it does. For instance, I am not overly bossy toward Greg in general, but when he's in the kitchen I will give him all kinds of unsolicited "advice" about how things are done best. (So helpful, right?)

I've noticed it with my kids too. An often asked question is, "Can I help?" Which you would think would make a mother's heart leap with joy, but usually makes mine sink. I can let them help in certain scenarios, but when it's one of my things, it's really hard to let go of how I want it done and let them participate with me in it.

Take, for instance, Jonathan's birthday party. Now, Jonathan's birthday party was a small affair. It was just us and my parents celebrating at home. The agenda was: eat pizza, eat cake, open gifts, and play pin the dirt on the dump truck/bulldozer. So, in the afternoon before party time I started drawing a dump truck and bulldozer and getting ready to color them in so that they would be ready for the game. The kids saw me and wanted to help… they wanted to color them. Now, mind you, I am doing this FOR Jonathan. It is HIS birthday, HIS party, and he wants to color the bulldozer. But I don't want to let him, because then it won't look as good. And of course, it looking good is more important than my son participating in getting ready for his party. Hmmm… So I let them paint the bulldozer and the dump truck. They loved it. It was really hard for me to let go, and even as they started painting I found myself giving "helpful" little tips. But it turned out to be one of their favorite parts of the day. And I was so glad I let them do it. And honestly, their pictures turned out kind of cute. In fact, I think Elisa's turned out better than if I had done it myself.

I've thought about this as it pertains to God and us. Have you ever thought about the fact that God lets us participate with Him in His work? He lets us work with Him on things that actually matter. He doesn't set things up for us to do just so that we can feel important. (Sometimes I do that with my kids… you know, make special jobs for them, that aren't really that important but will make them feel important). He's not threatened by our mistakes, He's big enough. We poorly represent Him and even misrepresent Him, and yet He's big enough for that too.

"The gushing pleasure of small children as they help their parents comes from the expansion of the child's little self through the immersion in the life of a larger self to which the child is lovingly abandoned." (Dallas Willard)

God's Kingdom (where what He wants done is done) is all around us. In each moment we are either working to further our own kingdom, or His Kingdom. And let me tell you, my own kingdom, when it comes right down to it, is a pretty pitiful little affair. It's all about my comfort, my happiness, my reputation. How much better it is to find myself part of something larger than me.

His Kingdom is here! Right now!
Can I help?

Nora at 15 months

Two things I had sort of forgotten about 15-month-olds:
1) They are so stinkin' cute!
2) They are so stinkin' messy!

Nora is 15 months old and she is on the go. All day, every day she is about her business, doing the serious work of babies: emptying the recycle bin, emptying the cupboards and drawers, pulling books off the bookshelf, drawing on the walls with markers.

But the cuteness makes up for the messes. Don't you think?

She can be quite outgoing. Tonight we went out to eat, and she made friends with the people in the booth directly across from us, both of the booths kitty-corner from us, and the booth on either side of us. Not an easy feat considering the tall booth backs. But she won them over with her smile, her wave, and in one case some vigorous head nodding.

She hadn't liked reading books at all. I was feeling a little panicky, because how can one of MY children not like reading? But she's turned a corner and all of a sudden will bring me books to read to her and object loudly when the book is closed. Her favorites right now are Goodnight Moon; Bedtime Peekaboo; and Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes. 

She packs away the food and is not picky at all. I can usually count on her to eat dinner even when the other kids are turning up their noses at it. Even so, she is still a bit of a peanut, small in both height and weight categories. She's still in her infant car seat (and hating it) while we wait for her to hit that 20 pound mark so she can move up to the next one.

She says a few words. Her first word was "uh-oh."
Now she also says:
Da-da,
Mama (though sometimes I'm not quite sure if she's just saying it or if she knows it refers to me),
head,
nose (this may explain why she likes Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes so much),
she also makes a few animal sounds (moo, meow, woof, and the cutest little roar ever).

She can navigate the few stairs we have around our house. But I wouldn't trust her by herself with a full flight of stairs. She walks (started right at a year) and is somewhat enamored with walking backwards, which I find quite funny at times. She is turning into a climber, which I do not find funny at all.

Right around 4:00 most days she gets extremely fussy (and hungry) and this makes getting dinner ready challenging. But I've gotten good at listening to crying kids, so I can deal with it. :-) Of course, she is probably the loudest of the three, because she has to be to have any chance of attention at all. Ah… the life of the third-born.

She is mostly happy, loves a good adventure, and tries to keep up with the big kids. As you can tell, we're pretty smitten with her.

Jonathan the four-year-old

Here, finally, are Jonathan's four year pictures. He is getting to be quite the big guy. I was just noticing the other day how long his legs seem. He is becoming more adult proportional and less toddler like. 

He is silly and fun-loving. When he gets in his head that something would be fun to do, he has to do it. For instance, in Disneyland he got it in his head that he needed to walk through every turnstile without using his hands to push the turnstile. Now the turnstiles come right up to his neck, so that meant that he would walk pushing the turnstile with his neck until it went around. And if someone pushed it for him (out of the kindness of their hearts, to make it easier for him)… oh man… he was not happy!

He still loves trains and cars and trucks and things that go. He watches to see how everything works. And he can tell you afterwards exactly how many wheels something had, or what color the track was, or if it had gears etc. The other day he told me all about bicycle chains and gears. Sometimes I think he understands how things work better than I do.

He is still great friends with Leesi. They play together so well, and love each other so much. It warms my heart to see it. He is amused by Nora and thinks she's cute and funny. But he doesn't like her interfering with what he is doing.  

He is starting to really get into coloring and writing. He holds his pencil with all different sorts of grips, so that makes it a little challenging for him to have the control he needs. But he still will ask me how to write words and then write all the letters down on his paper (not always in order… but they're all there.)

He talks to anyone and everyone and always has a long story to tell. Often with a preamble leading up to the actual information. "I have something to tell you. Do you know what it is? It is…."

He loves his stuffed doggie, Marshmallow or "Marshy." And often in the morning he will pull all his "comftable stuff" out of his bed: Marshy and several other stuffed animals, his quilt, pillow, and blankies; and then take it all to the couch for snuggle time and reading books. 

Jonathan, you are getting so big. I love seeing you grow and learn each day. Thanks for being such a fun boy.   

Happy Fall!

Halloween Time!

Just some Halloween pictures for the grandparents. This year the big kids both chose out and helped to make their Halloween costumes. Leesi made her own little butterfly antennae, and Jonathan and I worked long and hard on his train (Leesi helped too).  Nora was Tigger, but she just rode around in the stroller. She wasn't feeling well and had been quite needy and cranky all day. Poor baby, she not only had a fever, but also a nasty burn on her lip from the hot glue gun. And yes, I feel terrible about it. 

Jonathan had tons of fun helping paint his train. Leesi and I helped him with the blue, but then he did all the stripes and windows himself. I think it turned out pretty good.

The train was mostly orange and blue, Jonathan's favorite colors. It was number 33… not Thomas! Don't be confused by the Thomas hat. After all, Thomas doesn't have orange stripes!

Cute trick or treaters...

Playing in the Rain

A catch-up post

Well... if I don't start posting a little more often all my posts will end up being catch-up posts. And that's no fun. So, here's hoping that this is the beginning of my renewed blogging. Ha!

But a little catch up is needed since in the last two months a lot has happened. Greg accepted a position at Northwest Christian University in Eugene, Oregon in early August. We moved down to Eugene September 1st. Since our move we've celebrated two birthdays (Nora's and Jonathan's). We've officially entered the realm of school age kids with Elisa going to Kindergarten. And we celebrated my mother-in-law's 60th birthday with a trip to Disneyland. It has been a busy month!

Here are the pictures to prove it:

Nora's Birthday

Beautiful one-year-old

Elisa's 1st day of Kindergarten

Disneyland!

Jonathan's 4th Birthday

There's the very abbreviated version of what's been happening. Stay tuned for more!

Jonathan and Mommy in the Story of the Three Little Fish.

Jonathan and Elisa both have animal hooded towels. Jonathan's is a fish and Leesi's is an owl. A few nights ago I was trying to get Jonathan out of the bath and into his fish towel. I started talking in kind of a low voice to try and get his attention. "Little Fishy, come here. Come here little fishy" I said. My low voice reminded Leesi of the voice I do when we read Three Little Pigs. She said, "Hey Mommy, you be the big bad shark and say 'Little fishy, little fishy, let me come in.'" So I repeated what she said. Then she said, "Now Jonathan say, 'Not by the hair on my finny fin fin.'"

That girl cracks me up.

How God gave me something better than a house

Just over three years ago our family made a big move. We moved from Arkansas back to the Northwest. Greg had been working at JBU, a great school that we loved, but we wanted to be closer to our families. So we decided to move, even though Greg did not have a job lined up here.

In my head I envisioned us living in a cute house, in a good neighborhood, in Portland... a house with a fenced yard where the kids would play, 3 bedrooms, and hopefully a big living room for entertaining. When moving day came, Greg didn't really have any job prospects, and I felt a little worried. Nevertheless, I could still imagine our house and yard. I knew it might be down the road a little, but I was sure that we were at least on the road to buying a house. For the first five years of our marriage we rented a house, and then at JBU we lived in the men's residence hall. We had never owned a house and I was ready.

Well, after a summer of ups and downs in the job hunt, Greg was offered a job at Warner Pacific College as (once again) a Residence Director. Which meant that (once again) we would be living in an apartment in the men's residence hall. And this time the apartment was even smaller... with no dishwasher... no washer and dryer... no bathtub. We moved in with mixed emotions. On the one hand we had faced the reality that we might be living with Greg's mom while he worked as a server at a restaurant (not to belittle being a server... just not Greg's chosen career path). So we were very relieved to have a job that he cared about and a place to live. But on the other hand, there was no house (not only no house, but no prospect of a house anytime soon). We were stuck in the dorm until his job changed again. And part of me was bitter.

I tried to put a good face on it. I mean, like I said, we were very relieved to have a place to call home at all. It was so nice to unpack boxes and have our own space.

But the space was small... I mean, really small. The living room was 10x10, there was no dining room... just a space on the wall between the bathroom door and the front door where we put a drop leaf table that we unfolded for each meal. I think the whole house was about 800 square feet... but that doesn't do justice to how small it really was. The living room, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom were in 400 of those square feet. Then down a spiral staircase (which took up part of our square footage) was the other half of the apartment... one giant room with a walk-in closet. We used it as our bedroom/catch-all room/storage. At first the walk-in closet was where baby Jonathan slept. Then, when he was sleeping regularly through the night we moved him up to share a room with Elisa.

The "dining room" and kitchen

The dining area from a different angle - shows the front door (right) and bathroom door (left)

The living room

The kids' room

Our bathtub

And there was one other thing: Greg had taken a pay cut and I had stopped working. We already hadn't made a ton of money in Arkansas... but now we made substantially less. And we had just used up our savings moving across the country.

So, on the one hand, I was so relieved and thankful for Greg's job. And on the other hand, I was bitter. I felt like God owed me more than this. It sounds terrible to say it that way, but that's where I was at. I had given God so much. I had done all the right things. Wasn't it His duty to bless me? And shouldn't He bless me in the ways that I wanted? 

One of the things I kept saying during that time was, "The American Dream is not my dream. The American Dream is not my dream." Of course, the American Dream WAS my dream... which is why I needed to say it so much. To remind myself that it shouldn't be my dream. Funny thing about dreams though, it's hard to let go of a dream without something better to grab onto in it's place. 

It was easy to be outwardly thankful for the apartment when people were commiserating with me about how small it was. But whenever someone said something about how it was nice, or not so bad, or how I should be thankful, I bristled inside. And sometimes that bitterness would leak out in my words. Then afterwards I'd think, "Oh, I hope so-and-so didn't think that I'm not a grateful person or that I'm bitter." You see, I didn't quite realize the truth yet. I thought that my problem was what I had said. One day God showed me that the problem wasn't what I said, but my heart. Those words were coming from a bitter heart. And that's what needed to change. 

I realized that if I had to describe me in one word, that word would be "want." That's what I thought about more than anything else: what I wanted. "I just want to be able to decorate this house better." "I want to have a yard with a fence." "I want to be able to have room to have people over." "I want Greg to get a different job so we can move off-campus." And on and on....  All things that I thought would make me happy.

I wasn't happy that my word was "want," but acknowledging the truth of my heart was the first step toward change. I thought, "If there's a word to describe me I want it to be 'peace', or 'joy', or 'contentment'."

The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
 He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
 He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake....

  Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23)

The view out our apartment window

I started taking time to stare out our big window and slow down for a minute during nap time. Instead of getting on Facebook or Pinterest, I'd do my Bible study or read other good books.

During this time I started reading the book, "One Thousand Gifts". In it Ann Voskamp challenged me to do a simple exercise: start writing down things I'm thankful for every day. Think of the gifts God gives me, and take the time to write them down. Slowly as I started doing this, my thoughts started to shift.

One rainy day as I was parking our car in the lot after a trip to the grocery store, I found myself cursing in my head. Cursing the rain, the puddles, the slow one-year-old and three-year-old who would be sure to find the puddles and dawdle, the car that took the closest spot, the muddy hillside I'd have to climb, the heavy grocery bags... etc. Then I remembered thankfulness, and just as quickly I started counting gifts. The fact that my kids would have a chance to be outside: a gift. The groceries: a gift. A let-up in the rain: a gift. The biggest gift that I realized right then though, was that God was changing me. Slowly but surely I was becoming a different person. A person of joy instead of bitter cursing. With a smile on my face and my arms full of groceries I urged my one and three-year-old up that muddy hillside. And I felt happy. Or maybe, I was joyful.

I'm still in process. I still fall into thinking that happiness is about fulfilling my list of wants. And I still want to own a house... someday... maybe. But I no longer obsessively get online to look at home listings in our area. I no longer drive down the streets looking for for-sale signs. Not that those things are intrinsically bad, they were just bad for my soul at that time. And they were a sign of my soul at that time. I wanted to buy a house so badly because the American dream was my dream. I had forgotten that what I truly wanted and needed was God himself.

A year ago, right in time for Nora to be born, we moved into a house. Not our own house... a campus house. God continues to provide for us and bless us, not always in exactly the way I have pictured. But always in exactly the way I need.

And it is kind of cute, isn't it?

Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:16-17)

Now, three years later, I see how that little apartment was a good and perfect gift. It helped me realize my sense of entitlement. It showed me the depths of my wanting... depths that would never be filled... and helped me realize that what I truly wanted could not be bought with money.

"True joy, as it turns out, comes only to those who have devoted their lives to something greater than personal happiness." (From The Life You've Always Wanted by John Ortberg)