Finding Me

One thing that I had in Alaska was a sense knowledge in everything there was to know about what needed knowing. If I didn't know how to do it, Google was right there to help me figure it out. High speed internet and Youtube videos have been utilized to their fullest extent at our house. You name it, I could do it. Were you looking for someone to do a great repair on your home? I knew the guy. Looking for the you-pick farm and the best deals on produce? I knew where to send you. Looking for that lady who sells hay and straw for half the price of the feed store? I have her number too. Need amazing garlic that grows in Alaska? I have that for you in my gardening lair and I can even teach you how to grow it. There's a lot of pride and joy that come from being a know-it-all and I was that person, full of pride, full of joy and full of know.

That woman is gone.

I mentioned about the woe-is-me-ness in the last post that I wrote. I lost my shoes, I lost my blanket, my home is gone and now me...Me is gone. I miss Me.

I realized something just this week. I need my own home. My own domain where I don't have to be beholden to a property manager to repair the heating ducts or the back door that doesn't close. I need my closet to be just so, so that I actually know where my clothes go because otherwise they get draped on the broken rocking chair in our bedroom. My JOB is being a wife, mother, baker, cook and I have failed miserably in the last 5 months. I have been trying to stay strong in this lovely, cold, bug filled home that God has provided. I know that our 9 person family needed temporary shelter and this home is big enough. But I can't be Me here and Me needs to come back...my family needs Me.

We may be buying a home here in about a month. It's no sure thing, we have been through this once already since we moved here. But I'm hopeful and looking forward to getting back into the swing of things. Having a good oven that doesn't overcook, cooking more meals and possibly doing some canning.

I thank God for this house we are in. I got to mope around here for 5 months, gain a bunch of weight while I sat around eating Doritos and Costco pumpkin muffins feeling sad about missing Me. I want to go home and by that I don't mean Alaska, I mean to a home where my family lives and is content. Where my husband can fix things with out getting permission from the land-lord and he can feel manly and useful and we can be joyful. Where I can re-learn how to garden in a much warmer climate, find a peach farmer, grow a different kind of garlic, buy goat milk from the cool nuns down the road, tell everyone about Gary-the-amazing-plumber and get my head back into the knowledge game.

Me is coming home soon. I can't wait to see her again.

Just lounging on the cool porch.

One Good Friend

Often times lately I feel sorry for myself. "Woe is me," I say.

Today I was feeling especially woeful. My sister and her husband made the yearly late fall trek to Girdwood, Alaska. My husband and I have been going with them for the last three years and we have such a grand time...no kids, just adult time with two of the best people in the world. We were invited to go with them again, but getting tickets back to Alaska at the last minute and juggling what to do with our children proved too much at this time. They left for Girdwood last night and today she sent me a beautiful photo of the two of them at the top of the mountain surrounded by snow and bright blue sky and they looked so lovely. I love and miss them so much. I cried. Woe is me.

We all do that sometimes...right? We take turns feeling sorry for ourselves. A little indulgence into the passion of self pity. We allow it from time to time, some allow it to take a firm hold for a long time, sometimes a lifetime... some can combat it entirely. I fall to this temptation too often. Woe is me.

I was making a list in my head of all of the things that I have lost (misplaced?) during the move...not people that I have lost. Things. My tennis shoes, my shirt that I really like, an old comforter that my son likes, my fall boots, my garden clogs. Wracking my brain, I don't know where they went. Woe is me.

Then a car pulls into my driveway. Up walks my new friend that I met after moving here. She is a good soul, kind, loving, non-judgmental, giving. She has lost so much. Not just things but also many people. She has endured much suffering, she still goes through such suffering. My problems are nothing compared to hers. When I saw her I knew that she would see my pain and ask if I was ok. She would care enough to ask and I would probably cry when she did.

I tried to stay strong, to put on a good face. I failed. She asked. I cried. She hugged me. I felt so silly but she comforted me and told me how hard it must be to be in my shoes. She cared, really cared, and loved me.

Thank you, God, for this friend. How many people have a friend such as this? Someone who has suffered beyond anything I could ever imagine. Thank you for my tiny cross that I bear and for helping me to see how small it is. Thank you for loving me so much that you sent this woman that I did not know three months ago into my life exactly when I needed her and when she needed me. What a loving Father you are, how much you love us is unmeasurable and overwhelming.

Ahhh, what lovely people. Miss you guys.