My Sand Castles

Much like an infant swaddled in its mothers arms, I'm comfortably slouched on my in-laws' faux suede couch sandwiched between pillows piled over with a giant, cotton-fleece blanket. Pretty kitties and butterflies--I didn't realize that was the linen design until just now. "Hmm," I think to myself, as I take a sip from my too-hot cup of jasmine green tea. "Who knew?"

I'm enjoying the stillness of my Saturday morning. Ken and his dad just left on a work errand so I have the house all to myself. As I reflect on the beauty of the fall colors outside, unfolding in bursts, as the morning sun rises above the tree tops, one of my favorite Switchfoot songs starts to play on the radio. The chorus softly beckons me in:

I wish I had what I needed
To be on my own
'Cause I feel so defeated
And I'm feeling alone

And it all seems so helpless
And I have no plans
I'm a plane in the sunset
With nowhere to land

And all I see
It could never make me happy
And all my sand castles
Spend their time collapsing

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.

It's a song about a boy learning to grow up. And it's a painful process. I can understand how the singer must feel. It's been a few years now since he wrote this song and I wonder if things have changed--does he understand life better now? Or perhaps he's still searching for something--maybe elusive--that this side of Heaven will not fully be revealed to him.

In the past week, I've noticed that like the words of this song, many of my 'sand castles' are collapsing. I'm in a season of tremendous transition, filled with moments of intense grief, and conversely joy, along with the growing knowledge that while life events and circumstances are uncertain, there is a God who is not, and He is with me. Always.

Last Sunday night, Ken and I got word that one of his grandmas had passed away. It was bittersweet, as Grandma Alice was a big part of our decision to move to Alaska. Months back, God gave me a vision to pursue relationships with family by living closer and it was an honor to share in Grandma's last few days here. In retrospect, I didn't realize our time together would be so short.

I guess that summarizes much of how I'm feeling in our current stage of life. Ken and I are faced with many uncertainties. Without a steady income and no job prospects on the horizon, we are at the beginning stages of considering what that means for us. Realistically, can we stay in Alaska? Likewise, did God bring us to this place just for a season? If so, when is that season over--how will we know? As we review our budget based entirely on savings, we know at some point our money will run out. Our relative financial security that we've enjoyed by living frugally the past few years is not enough to postpone the inevitable. And so, in a spirit of faith, we are pursuing job opportunities together and I am placing my business endeavors on hold, while we seek God for what's next.

In many ways, I see dreams of mine being placed on hold, seemingly collapsing. The hope of starting a family, of living near family, and my desire to feel secure and have a place of our own. Right now, I have to release those things to God. I have to believe that in faith what He gives us is better than what I can take for myself. My prayers in the past few days have become much simpler. Lord, help me to know that you're with us. No matter what.

Let me know that you hear me.
Let me know your touch.
Let me know that you love me.
Let that be enough.

The Alcan: Our Journey to Alaska from Seattle via Alberta

3,000 miles or just under. That’s the distance my husband and I, along with one of my best friends, traveled in about one week on our way from Seattle, Wash., to Alaska—the state we now proudly call home. Upon returning to Seattle from our month-long ‘Europe Tour,’ Ken and I rented a U-Haul moving truck, loaded up all of our belongings from the past three years of marriage, and hit the road.

My friend Jenn joined us for this epic adventure. She took the train to Seattle from Portland, Oregon (near her hometown), and met us at our U-Haul location with a military issue duffle bag, camping supplies, and an incredible sense of adventure. We were ready for the long trek ahead and set out early Friday morning, the last week in July.

Looking back, I’m still blown by the natural beauty of Glacier National Park in Canada. The windswept mountain peaks and jagged cliff faces were breathtaking. Likewise, the contrast between roaring glacier-fed rivers and placid, emerald streams provided an awe-inspiring backdrop for our strenuous drive. Our musical selection, provided mainly by Jenn’s iPod, included, “The Lord of the Rings” soundtrack and “Enya.” Like the perfect pairing of food and wine, we took in majestic slopes set to beautiful melody.

During our journey, we made a slight detour and visited one of my other best friends in Alberta, Canada. Sheri. Sheri lives in a rural farming town a few hours outside of any major city. This was my first time visiting her and I felt so blessed by the warm welcome from her and her family and friends. Sheri’s boyfriend treated us to warm crepes hot off the griddle that first morning we were in town. Later in the day, we visited Sheri’s family and barbequed in the backyard. Sheri then surprised us with free horseback riding lessons that afternoon! I’d like to pause here and mention how much I love horses! It’s been a dream of mine to ride horses out in the country and after this experience, I’m hooked. I’d like to take lessons in the near future. (Thank you, Sheri.) It was bittersweet saying goodbye to my Canadian friend; thankfully, I knew that just a few weeks later we’d meet up in San Diego.

Many surprises were in store for us on this trip. Each day, we saw wild animals—animals I had only ever seen in magazines or on TV. Mountain sheep, mountain goats, buffalo, deer, caribou and moose all ventured out on or near the highway. I was so impressed by the rugged terrain and the creatures that call it home.

During our trip, there was one experience that stands out in my mind as having been miraculous. Upon leaving Alberta, we drove 11 hours to our next campsite, a near-empty state park with no towns or neighborhoods or gas stations within 100 miles or more. Darkness encroached as we pulled up to our muddy campsite at the end of a narrow dirt drive. Jenn and I gathered our food out of the U-Haul first, as we were anxious to start cooking a warm meal. Meanwhile, Ken jumped in the back of the truck to change from his shorts into pants, with mosquitos swarming all around us. While Jenn headed to the restroom, I went to the back of the truck to grab supplies. At that moment, I heard Ken yell, just seconds after closing the sliding metal door to the back of U-Haul and latching the hardened steel alloy padlock in place.

“Oh no!” he agonized. “I just locked our keys into the back of the U-Haul.”

His face burning with remorse, I asked him, “What are we going to do?”

All of our camping supplies, our belongings, and now our car keys and padlock keys were trapped behind the shiny metal door in front of us.

“I need to find bolt cutters or a way into the truck,” he continued. “I’ll start walking.”

Jenn returned in time to hear what had happened. Feelings of fear, confusion, regret, and anxiety hovered like a thick cloud. As Ken headed out, Jenn asked, “Can we all pray together? Let’s pray.” Our situation warranted it. The three of us held hands and asked God to please intervene in our situation and send help. We felt completely helpless.

After praying, Ken headed off in the direction of the main road. A few minutes after he was out of sight, a truck filled with male workers from an oil refinery or farm drove up next to our U-Haul. Uncomfortable by their loud music and conversation, I told Jenn that I didn’t understand why they parked by us. We were located at the end of a muddy road, with nothing to see nearby. Also, I had no idea where they had come from, really. It seemed like the making of a bad situation. Jenn tried to assure me that we’d be fine, but I felt a growing discomfort settling deep in my stomach as the minutes passed. “God, please help Ken to come back soon,” I whispered. Right then, I noticed the figure of a man in the distance walking toward us, as the fog rolled in.

It was Ken. He was back. He had found bolt cutters.

Our hearts quickly lifted as Ken told us the story of how the first person he found directed him to another guy, a man nearby who had bolt cutters just lying on the tire of his truck. Ken thanked that man and then asked the other guy if he could borrow the bolt cutters. Then, he walked back to our campsite. At that point, the truckload of slaphappy guys left. In summary, Ken located bolt cutters within about 10 minutes from the point that he left us and was able to easily snap our thick padlock in about two clamps.

And that is how God totally blew our minds with His ability to provide for us in the most desolate of circumstances.

We were out in the middle of nowhere. There were only a handful of campers in or around our area; most likely just ‘passing through’ like us. But God was there. Right there--in our midst. He answered our prayer. Praise Jesus.

From then on, the three of us felt so encouraged as we continued our drive along the Alcan. We even got to Ken’s parents’ home near Anchorage sooner than expected, and were welcomed with an amazing seafood dinner and the love of family and friends excited to have us in town. What an incredible adventure and testimony of God’s provision! It feels great to start this new season in Alaska knowing that God is the One who provides for us.

Here are some photos from our travels throughout Canada and the first couple days in Alaska. You can click on each photo to enlarge. Enjoy!