winter sun

Yesterday was beautiful. Thus far, New Zealand winter involves a few days of rain and clouds followed by sunny, happy ones.

The past few months have been exactly that, cloudy and sunny. It's push and shove of feeling stuck and growing. Moments of homesickness and disappointment with the nursing council, but also sweetness of new friendships and the expanding of the Well.

This past month sprinted. Re-experiencing Soul Shift, completing the first bereavement group, adventuring our first Church retreat, hosting wonderful people, finishing at the clinic, starting at the university.

There are parts I wouldn't want to face again, but also lots of bits that were real good. Like the winter sun, a little cold and hopeful.

spring

It's really different experiencing spring in September. Even though I'm missing out on pumpkin lattes, I'm still wearing scarves because it's freezing compared to this past Midwest summer. Changing seasons.

Today I went with a friend to the Lyttleton Market. Lovely to see the differences and similarities, new and familiar. Plus, Lyttleton is drop dead gorgeous like the rest of New Zealand. We bought pies and pastries and ate at a park overlooking Corsair Bay. It was good.

After lazy Saturday naps, Logan and I biked to Hagley Park, hoping we didn't miss the daffodil woodlands and mangolia trees. Seriously, the park is beautiful. Like Central Park, you hear the noises of a city, but get lost in nature. It's a good place. I hope we find ourselves there often.

It's starting to settle in this is no longer a waiting season. Of course, we're waiting for preview services and launch of the church. But there is also a tremendous amount of things to be done. Time to be active. Trying to rejoice in God's provision: jobs, car. Trying not to be discouraged by: rentals, time. Reminding myself: present over perfect.

on my mind

Oh no, it's here already. First family of the final five to move out of 305. These are our little helpers, too precious. Moving all our stuff will be tiring, but saying goodbye is going to break my heart. We've loved this place.

first day of fall

I can't believe it's Friday. I can't believe it's the second to last Friday in September. I can't believe it's September. I can't believe summer is over. How many different ways can I say this summer flew by? This summer flew by. Goodness, September 23rd, first day of fall, hello, how are you? Oh goodness, I can't believe it's fall.

What's new? Moving. It's a funny feeling.

It's interesting because at a time like this, with so much change, plenty to think about, I have to force myself to write about it. I really don't feel like thinking about it to the point where I can read it. And as a result, I spend my time looking for jobs or sewing pillows or doing something else. Typical distractions.

It's hard and it's not hard. Moving, that is. I'm not crying everyday, but I'm in that stretching kind of season, away from family, being more independent (but not really, I need Logan more than ever), uncertainty of jobs phase, trying to find places and friends that continue to inspire me to live with meaning, trusting God with my worried head. Thus, it isn't easy, a little awkward. The marriage part is fun, really fun. That's good news.

What have I done this first week in Jersey? A lot and not a lot. Logan keeps telling me to relax - it's okay for me to have a break until I get a job. He's right. In some ways, summer wasn't really a break. We were always going somewhere or doing something. It's not easy for me to sit still. And at the same time, it's been hard to be adventurous because highway 1 and roundabouts are scary. I'll learn, sometime, soon. I hope.

This week, I am thankful for friendly neighbors who ask me to babysit their kids (since I still don't have a job, did I mention that already?) and invite Logan and I for tea, for birthday parties and a new friend (I hope) who assured me of her insecurities of moving, for sushi and a trip to New York City for passports, for a home to make chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin muffins, for skype with friends and phone calls with family, for Logan and our new home.

I miss the old, but I'm certain the more I try to hold on to it, the less my hands are open to what God has planned for Logan and I here in New Jersey. Hands opening. Oh my, the leaves are falling.

(photo via Cherilyn Kurtz)

our first move

August, where did you go? You were full, planned and jammed, stuffed with as many good things as Logan and I could fit in a month. Seriously, the list is long: visiting family, studying, passing NCLEX, family camp, packing, kayaking, trip to Michigan, bonfires, swimming, cleaning, shooting guns, fingerprints, camping with old roommates, emptying my childhood room, job applications, filling med trays, babysitting, cooking, morning coffee dates, birthdays, more packing, bowling, and a wedding. As August slipped out the backdoor, September and fall weather embraced us beginning with our move to Jersey.

Logan and I simplified our stuff, packed our things into a sixteen-foot truck, and attached our car with a tow dolly. We really didn't need a sixteen-foot truck, but it's all they had. So Thursday morning came, we ate Karmel McKnutt donuts with Mark and Lauren, hugged our parents, and hit the road. Bless Logan's heart because he drove the entire 700 mile trip, all twenty-something feet of us, to Princeton while I colored Lisa Frank pictures.

Early Friday morning, we started moving boxes into our simple apartment on the second floor. It went quick with the help of our new neighbors. We felt so loved by helping hands, homemade jam cookies, lent toilet bowl brush, church friend cleaning our dirty bathroom, invitation to a cookout, and a free watermelon. Pretty amazed by the good community of families that surround us. My parents, our second hands of help, came Saturday night in time for the Boise football game. I was excited to show them around Princeton and our church. I'm so thankful for their help putting away things, cooking for us, hanging up things. Goodness, I'm sure everything would still be in boxes if they hadn't decided to come.

It's weird, I remember this time last year Logan leaving for Jersey, hating long-distance, but finding peace knowing that he wouldn't be moving alone this year. It's such a comforting feeling to realize that we have each other. We're sad to leave Indiana, but excited to finish his master's and start my nursing career. This time away will be good, bittersweet, a completely different type of season of growing for us. This weekend we did first married type things from our first trip to Ikea (exciting at first, quickly replaced with feeling overwhelmed), nervousness about finances (I still need a job), my transition to East Coast norms (I'm timid, Jersey is not), fitting everything in our apartment (it's small and cozy). I'm just so happy to be doing this together. Goodness, I love that boy. We're so young, laughing a lot and still taking naps when we should be unpacking.

At the same time, it's hard. We're living in two places at the same time. We've moved our things to New Jersey, but we're back in Marion. Logan leaves tomorrow to go fishing in Canada with his dad. I'm staying in Indiana, embracing every moment with family before we leave again. Like most newlyweds, this first move is the beginning of unknown steps, not quite sure where we're headed after Logan graduates, but excited for the opportunities He has given us, praying for peace where to go. We have vague ideas, two kids with some dreams, loving God and desiring His heart, looking to be part of His means in wherever He's at work.

belize

 

Oh boy, I am blessed. I spent the past week in a small village in Belize called Roaring Creek. I'm not quite sure where to begin because the week was so much: good, stretching, reminding, reflecting, encouraging. Over the next week, I hope to write more about my adventures in Belize. The photo above is the wonderful children who greeted us while passing out rice and beans in a poor neighbor east of Belmopan.

It seems that around every corner God is challenging me with how I'm spending my time, what is important to me right now, what should be important to me, and how my life should be transformed, what he wants it to look like. 

I wish I could twist the images, conversations, and thoughts of this past week into beautiful words and eloquent sentences, but I find comfort in simple sentences like:

God is good.

I love children.

I care about others, community, relationships.

I am reminded of God's grace in broken and (what seems) hopeless situations.

I want a life larger than living for myself.

(And, again) I am blessed.