The Perfect Imperfect House

It's half-past two in the morning, and I'm scrunched like a ball on our grey double-recliner, the final remnant of furniture we have in our living room area. Around me are two large, sturdy suitcases, one military-issue duffle bag, and two roller carry-on suitcases - all filled to the brim with our current supply of clothing, toiletries, nursing supplies, and baby toys - along with an unusually long cardboard box and a handful of cleaning supplies. It's safe to say that we are in the final stage of moving out of our sweet little home here in Anchorage, Alaska. The few things we have left - a third of a carton of eggs, our toothbrushes, my in-law's camping cookery, and Ruby's most essential play item, her Jumperoo, will all be coming with us later today, as we say goodbye to the first house that Ken and I bought together, just under two years ago.

A wave of emotion passes over me, as I consider the ways this house became a home to us in such a short time.

After years of saving (which Ken started long before we got married), we put a down payment on this house and in faith, stepped into a new season as homeowners one late January afternoon, in 2014.

It was here that we joyfully welcomed friends and family and neighbors - for vacations, birthdays, holidays, weekly community group, potlucks, and bbq's. Our neighbors became close friends to us, in such a short time. They are the kind of people we could call or whose homes we could walk over to, if we needed anything. What a huge blessing, especially during Alaska's dark and long winters - I knew that we were safe, and that people near us were happy to lend a helping hand if anything came up.

In this house, we spent countless hours playing tug-o-war, fetch, and tag with our first pup, Penny - our rambunctious rescue dog, with her larger-than-life personality and love for running. Our yard was great for chasing (or rather being chased) by our fun-loving dog, who only wished that we could stay out all day to play with her.

Two summers ago, it was here that I tested my limits for the first time, to see how strong I really was, and found out that through discipline, consistency, and God's grace, I could in fact run a half-marathon. I have many fond (and not-so-fond) memories of running long stretches of trail near our house, tightly clinging bear spray in one hand, praying that I'd never run into a bear or moose (which I never did on those long runs.) I conquered mental fatigue and my own inward demons during those runs. I pushed through, and realized that God could do way more in me than I had ever imagined.

It was here that I became a mom for the first time. On a lazy Saturday morning, in August of last year, I gently nudged Ken awake to the words, "I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a Daddy."

And this was the house we welcomed baby Ruby home to, once we left the hospital for the first time nearly 7 months ago. My precious gift from God, who taught me in mere seconds upon her arrival, about God's unconditional love and joy - how much He must love me, His child. Life is sacred, and I didn't understand that in the ways I do now, until holding my baby girl in my arms for the first time.

It was in these walls, that Ken and I cooked meal after meal of fresh-caught salmon that he skillfully collected while dipnetting last summer, another first for us.

Here, in our home, Ken and I practiced fighting for marriage (rather than against one another), as we worked through misunderstandings and arguments, sometimes - or oftentimes, battles that came up while we were cooking or cleaning in our little kitchen. Heated conflicts or "opportunities for growth," as Ken calls them, were resolved through extending grace, practicing time-outs, and striking compromises, along with bear hugs and realizing our need for forgiveness (or typically, my need for forgiveness.) We celebrated our fifth anniversary in this house, which is a testimony to God's faithfulness.

The past couple weeks, we've spent hours sorting, decluttering, packing, moving, deep-cleaning, and getting our house ready to sell. I've felt overwhelmed and anxious, scared but also excited, nostalgic and yet hopeful. I've cried myself to sleep a few times, replaying memories in my mind of all the "good things" that took place in this house. Particularly in regard to Penny. She was our first dog, and loved us deeply.

When I think about moving, I feel a deep sense of loss over Penny. In recent months, she's been increasingly neurotic, at times destructive, and always wanting more attention than I could give her with the baby. I've worked through feelings of shame and embarrassment, over us not being able to give Penny the life that she wants, and also processed the very real need that she has to be exercised more than I can do for her in this season. It's been one of the hardest decisions that Ken and I have had to make, but deep-down it's a decision that reflects our desire to give Penny what's best for her - a home where she is the main attraction. With heavy hearts, we are giving Penny to a sweet and adventurous high school senior who lives near us and the trail system that Penny enjoyed these past couple years. I think that Penny will be a great fit there.

Ken's Dad shared some words of encouragement that really stuck with me, as I continue to work through my sense of loss over Penny. He pointed out that perhaps Penny was meant to be our dog for a season, and now she is moving on to another great home. She was our gift for a time, and now we can share her with someone else. I'm so thankful for the blessing that Penny was to our family. Here's the story of how we got her, if you're interested.

In leaving Alaska, I'm excited to see how God meets us in this new chapter, as we move to Eastern Washington in just a couple short weeks. As I mentioned earlier, in this big move, I'm feeling overwhelmed and anxious, scared but also excited, nostalgic and yet hopeful.

Perhaps, though, I'm mostly hopeful.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

The Lost Boy

Perspective. I can see how my perspective on parenting shifts in response to baby girl's changing needs each day. Oftentimes, something changes and doesn't look how I had planned. For example, consistent naps, a regular bedtime, and sleeping through the night, all seem illusive; particularly, right when I think that I have something 'figured' out.

Yesterday, was one of those days.

Baby girl woke up earlier than usual, ready for the day, cooing and babbling, with words that only she could understand. Bright-eyed and smiling, she fought to get out of her swaddle just after 7:30 a.m.  Her left arm, and then her right, emerged from her green apple-print summer swaddle - despite the velcro straps that presumably held her bound most of the night. Her cheeky grin informed me that she was ready to escape the clutches of yet another swaddle, should I try to re-swaddle her and go back to bed.

"Ok, let's start our day," I half-mumbled, as I relinquished my desire to climb in bed and under the covers.

We ate pumpkin waffles together for breakfast. Well, I ate while she watched me from the comfort of her cheerful red monkey chair, rattling and clanking her plastic toys. When she started to fuss, I sang to her and danced around the monkey chair. It made her happy again, and I assumed that it'd be a good day, where I could tackle the laundry, pay bills, or at the very least, tidy up the kitchen a bit.

By 9:30 a.m., Ruby's demeanor became much more tender. She didn't want me to put her down at all, and after a longish nursing session, she wasn't interested in nap time. Prone to tears, Ruby wanted to stay close to me, so I decided we should go for a walk. The fresh summer air would do us some good. Feeling adventurous, I harnessed Penny, our energetic 18-month-old pup, and decided to take her along as well.

Nearing the high '50s, the cool air invigorated me and I sensed my mind relaxing. Lately, I've grappled with bouts of anxiety, triggered by the challenges of parenting a newborn.

A few minutes into our walk, I decided to go straight thru the main thoroughfare instead of looping along the wooded trail. I wanted to walk around the neighborhoods adjacent to the park, opposite our house, and check out the pretty gardens lining the sidewalk.

Suddenly, a woman, most likely in her mid-thirties, approached me from the right. "Excuse me! Excuse me, have you seen a little boy?"

"Um, what did you say?" I quickly replied, unsure if I had heard her correctly.

"I can't find my toddler! He's 3! He ran off, can you please help me look for him?!" Her winded, frantic tone amplified her breathless speech. She seemed increasingly desperate. There was no one else around.

"You must think I'm an awful parent!" she continued, her face wrought with anxiety. "He just ran off and I haven't been able to find him!"

Unsure of how to respond in that moment, I asked for the boy's name and said that I'd love to help. We split up to cover more ground. I half-ran, half-jogged toward the eastern edge of the park, calling for the little boy, peering through the woods and along the bordering sidewalks.

No sign of the boy.

10 minutes passed and the lady of the missing boy met me back at our starting point, the playground. We decided to cover opposite ends of the park and split up yet again. As I sped up my pace - my red and black jogging stroller's maiden run - Ruby's eyes grew big, as if she sensed my mounting fears about how this story would end. Penny happily jogged alongside us, not a care in the world. Deep down, I couldn't shake the lingering uneasiness. What if this was my baby girl who was lost? How would I feel? What if we can't find this boy - when do I call the police?

Just the other day, I woke up in a panic thinking that I had lost baby Ruby. But she was safe and sound, nestled in her crib, sleeping soundly. It was only a dream. My baby girl's life is so precious. A child's life is so precious. You never want to lose your child.

We curved around overgrown hedges and under towering spruce trees. "Little boy! Little boy! Where are you?" I yelled, as I couldn't recall his name - a name I had never heard before.

The creek. Oh, God, I hope he's not in the creek, I thought to myself, as I ran parallel the water's edge, checking for any sign of a three-year-old.

Still no little boy.

I raced back to my initial point of contact with the mother of the missing boy. Another 20 minutes had passed at this point. She resurfaced shortly after, baby boy in tow.

"A biker picked him up farther down the trail," she smiled, looking both elated and downtrodden at the same time. She continued to say how horrible she felt about the whole experience. "He probably really wanted attention," she said.

"Praise God you found him," I said, and wished her well as we parted ways. In that moment, I wanted to hug this lady that I had only just met. Somehow though, I sensed her incredible guilt over the situation and pulled away, quietly. She wanted space, I reasoned.

In retrospect, I wish that I had hugged her, or at the very least, I wish that I could've responded quicker to her initial comment, which felt more like a question or a bid for affirmation. I would've said, "No, I don't think you're a horrible person. I'm not judging you right now. I'm so sorry that you're going through this awful experience."

Words of grace.

Honestly, this is what I wish I could hear more of, especially on days when I feel like I'm failing as a parent, a wife, a writer, or a small business owner. These are the things I need to remind myself of: I'm not a failure or a horrible person. I'm human, and I'm trying my best.

And by the grace of God, I can get through days when baby girl won't stop crying unless she is attached to me in some fashion. When I need to surrender my expectations for how many house projects I'll accomplish and instead focus on the simple task of feeding and caring for my child. In the end, she is so much more important.

I was reminded of that yesterday. In those 30 minutes, when a little boy went missing and I was there to help look for him, my perspective shifted. One of my worst fears came true for a woman I had just met - the fear of losing one's child, and it helped me to see how truly thankful I am for my own baby girl, and how important it is to live out grace - for myself and others, when things don't go as planned. Or worse, when we lose something precious, if even for a moment.

My New Favorite Dress

I bought it. I broke down and bought it - the beautiful dress I swooned over while in the dressing room at Anthropologie during our visit to Seattle a few weeks ago. Here is a little peek at the pretty pattern on this textured polyester knit dress from designer Maeve, which I plan on wearing to my friend's outdoor wedding one week from today. It's hard for me to pay full-price on items at Anthropologie but after nearly two weeks of thinking about this dress, I decided to use my clothes savings and go for it. And surprisingly, when I called customer service last Friday to place my order, I was able to score a friendly discount and free shipping, thanks to the sweet sales rep I spoke with. What a blessing! Now, if only I could find a miniature version of this dress for Ruby, so that we can match...

Ken, Ruby, and I are settling back into our routine post-trip. Baby girl is gradually sleeping more. We've had a couple great nights in the last two weeks; overall, it's been fairly challenging, as I came down with a horrible cold this week which coincided with a possible growth spurt for baby girl (translate: extra nightly feedings and less sleeping.) Juggling kleenex in one hand and a water glass in the other, I focused on keeping my germs away from Ruby as much as possible while nursing. 

Baby girl recently had her two-month baby wellness exam and she is now about 13 lbs and 24 inches long. Our pediatrician said that Ruby is very healthy and growing strong. She loves to smile, hold her head up, and steady her gaze on bright lights, colors, and faces she recognizes. Cooing and babbling, Ruby excitedly tries to talk on a regular basis. At the prompting of articles on child development, I now focus on reading to Ruby as often as possible. Anything from newspaper feature stories to magazine clippings to contemporary novels, as well as morning Bible readings. She gets a kick out of the many stories I make up for her, and recite aloud, particularly those about a little girl, ironically also named Ruby.  

Baby girl has such a happy and joyful demeanor, especially after good food and good sleep. She's just like her mama. 

Among other news, a 5.8 magnitude earthquake shook our house quite vigorously two Wednesdays ago. I'm becoming familiar with these ground tremblings, since Alaska experiences quakes often. Although, I can't say that I like them. When the house first began to wobble, I instinctively grabbed baby girl and ducked under our sturdy dining room table. This was shortly after my late lunch that afternoon. Ruby didn't seem to notice as I continued nursing her from the comfort of the hard, cold tile floor beneath us. In conjunction with my new surroundings, this was the perfect opportunity for me to notice the cobwebs and hairballs gathering under the table. Happily, the earthquake ended quickly and we were able to return to the comfort of our living room recliner. 

Here is a photo of the two of us cuddling back on the couch, safe and sound following the earthquake. 

As we approach the three-month mark in parenting, I feel abundantly blessed by the community of friends and family who have surrounded us in this season, particularly those who have supported us in prayer and through meal delivery, childcare, care packages and words of love and affirmation. Thank you so much! Ken and I are smitten with this sweet, gentle, curious, observant, and kind young lady who graced our lives nearly three months ago. God is revealing to me an even richer understanding of His grace and goodness, as Ken and I journey through parenthood. I had no idea how much I would love becoming a mom. It truly is a gift that I accept with reverence, recognizing the weight of this blessing.

I look forward to sharing more updates and pics with you soon!

Baby on Board: Our Seattle Adventures!

 

Last week, we flew from Anchorage to Seattle to visit our dear friends and family who live in the area. This was baby girl's first plane ride and after scouring the internet for all traveling-with-baby checklists, I felt ready to take on this trip. Ruby did great on the flight over (it was a red-eye) and she slept the bulk of it. Our flight home, on the other hand, was pretty challenging. Ruby scream-cried multiple times, and I almost cried, as I couldn't figure out how to console her. Ken and I alternated between circuits of bouncing her up and down, nursing, coddling, and encouraging naps. Thankfully, the passengers around us had children of varying ages, and seemed to understand. Honestly, this first big trip with baby felt sort of like a hazing experience. Traveling with a newborn is not glamorous but I can now say with confidence that I learned valuable lessons. One of which, is that taking a baby out of their routine can result in loss of sleep for one or more parents and/or children. It is best to know this going in to things, and I hope to be more realistic about expectations in the future.

All that to say, we had a wonderful time seeing my cousin Isaac and his wife, Kristina, my Aunt Linda and Aunt Joy, along with our close friends who live in Seattle. As we were flying over the city, preparing to land, I caught myself breathing out the words, "I'm home" and experienced a moment of intense joy and nostalgia, realizing quickly that Seattle still holds a special place in my heart. This is the city where Ken and I lived when we were dating. We shared our first apartment together on Capitol Hill after we got married, and then moved to the U-District when Ken got into the University of Washington. He and I biked all around the city, hiked and camped in the surrounding wilderness, and enjoyed so many great meals at local eateries. We built intentional community with our neighbors, friends, and church through weekly gatherings, game nights, dinner parties, and rendezvous at the park. Jumping off the dock at Lake Washington, playing late-night boardgames with friends, taking long walks through downtown - these are some of my best memories from our time living there. I feel so blessed to have spent a good part of my twenties in Seattle.

Perhaps this trip to Seattle instigated the conversation that Ken and I now find ourselves pursuing: Do we want to move back to the Pacific Northwest? And if so, would it be a year from now? Two years, or more? Ken has always had such a heart for building relationship and living close to dear friends. This is a vision that I've shared with him, but I never thought that it would potentially look like a move to Spokane, Washington, where my cousins live. Until now, that is. As we prayerfully consider if this might become a reality for us in the coming year(s), both of us want to take our time in landing on a decision. It gets us excited, though, at the thought of living near Isaac and Kristina and raising our children together, and also being close to Seattle and all our friends there. Also, flights from Seattle are much cheaper than flights from Anchorage, and that is another plus as we consider how we might continue to visit family in Alaska and Hawaii on a regular basis.

Alaska is still our home for now, and we are thankful for this gift of being near Ken's family. We look forward to continuing to share our adventures as we live in this grand state, and travel outside of it from time to time. Here are some photos of our recent trip to Seattle. Thank you so much to our friends and family who hosted and hung out with us!