Whew! It’s been awhile friends and family and I am sorry for that. But, alas, I am here again and hopefully you all haven’t given up on us or our story. Anyhoo, we were down for awhile but are back at it and fired up to keep on keepin’ on.
We have spent the last month hanging and rejuvenating. It is hard to break the cycle of habits. We have found ourselves in sunny Arizona but have also found ourselves in classic hibernation. We come from an area that has distinct seasons. With our migration to an area that does not have these same seasons we were a bit surprised to find that our body clocks still expect to experience seasons. Specifically, winter. Our mental process this last six weeks has been of people who retreat into their snowy dens waiting for the first signs of spring. We find ourselves slowly getting going in the morning and when we finally do we are pleasantly “surprised” by the sun shining bright. Every morning. Every morning we slowly get going and are surprised by the sun. Every morning. What is that about? It is a testimony to how our surroundings impact our core and we don’t even know it is happening. We are like the behavioral experiment of the bugs in the jar. Leave the lid on and watch them jump consistently into the lid only to find they can’t get out. Take the lid off and find that the same bugs can’t get out because of their mental training to respond to the limitations of their environment. Praise the Lord and His patience. We are done being bugs.
We are headed for New Mexico in April. Unless we end up with a spring contract, which could very well happen. But, for now we are headed to New Mexico to be part of Habitat for Humanity. We are officially signed on with a specific group of volunteers that travel the U.S. building houses for families. We have explored this avenue previously but only kept it in the back of our minds. The timing wasn’t right. The timing wasn’t God’s. We understand the details of some of the timing process but not all of the details so it isn’t really worth much discussion. The simple fact of the matter is the timing wasn’t right. In the past this has been Jeramie’s service ministry. He is the builder. We have already discussed in earlier posts that I am not the builder. However, it is my ministry as well in the simple fact that we are a family on the road to serve people so I am here to aid and assist my husband in any journey we venture on. Besides. I get to meet new people. And that makes me a happy servant.
People. I am happiest when I am around people. I LOVE meeting new people. In fact, my kids are completely in tune to my love to meet new people. We were in Starbucks the other day and I was having a conversation with another “new friend” a.k.a. the lady standing behind me, when I over heard my kids having their own conversation. “Mom made a new friend” Lexi shared with Andon, “I know. Mom makes new friends everywhere she goes” Andon piped back almost like it is a bit more of an annoyance than anything. It has begun. I officially irritate my kids in public. Don’t let them fool you though, I think they are secretly more irritated that they are not the ones having the conversation rather than having to stand by patiently. They are themselves giant people-people. I am a giant people person. It is who God made me to be. As I said earlier, Jeramie and I had been praying for a ministry to serve. Jeramie loves to build. He gets Habitat for Humanity. I love people. I get….
To go back to school? Yes friends and family, I am going back to school. I know, been there done that and now I am at home with my babies and why in the world do I want to go back to school? Why would I go back to school when I am not searching for a career? Because I want to explore this as a new ministry that God might have for me. I am going back to school for Massage Therapy. I am not going back to school to enhance my career. I am not even concerned if I ever earn any money for this service. I am not searching for a new skill set to prepare me for the work force and to be honest I don’t even really want to go to school at all. It gives me a reason to be one on one with people, specifically, women. It gives me an avenue to create relationships with women. It has been put on my heart to offer this service to women that I meet, other moms who need a little catering to, other women who need the chance to relax for just a moment and breathe. And it is something that will complement my husbands ministry. I wanted to go to school for it back before I met Jeramie and the timing wasn’t right. I have always held it in the back of my mind. You know, the “I have always wanted to do that” thought. Not the “I have always wanted to do that” thought that consumes you. This thought doesn’t even own any mental real estate on a very frequent level. But it has always been there.
We also hope to take part in a program that exchanges volunteer work on an organic farm for “housing” or in our case a place to stop the RV. It will give us the perfect experience for tangible practice of all of the plant life science that we have been learning in school lately. What an amazing experience to grow, cultivate and be surrounded by God’s creation. Oh, and we get to eat some of it to. I am a little excited. We aren’t exactly sure when that will manifest because we are planning only a few weeks out at a time (since our work gives us only 48 hours to arrive to our deployed destination) but it is on the list for sometime. The sometime is up to God and we are good with that. Because when God says now, than now will be the right time.
We have also penciled in a mission trip of service to Colombia. Our dates are fuzzy but to miss out on the opportunity to serve widows and orphans would be a severe dis-service to God, the remnants of these families, our friends and ourselves. Our dear friends back in Central Oregon have been called to serve in Colombia with their beautiful family of seven along with another entire family to organize, plant, manage and serve in an orphanage. Check out their blog at ColombiaGraceFoundation.blogspot.com. Stacy has assigned me 5 am goat milking and chicken coop cleaning which I will be happy to do! We will wait patiently for God to line up the dates but until then our suitcases are packed and stored in the coach basement for easy readiness when He does finalize the dates.
While on this mini period of rest I have had a moment of panic. We have had a few bullets regarding the socialization of our kids…again. And again I had to retreat and re-evaluate what our journey is all about. And again I entertained the thought that we might be denying our kids opportunities. And again I was reminded that I am not suppose to raise my kids the way our culture says we are suppose to raise our kids. And again it has been confirmed that we have been called to travel and serve people. I, for a moment, thought it might be time to go home and settle down. But….just for a moment. Again, praise the Lord for His mercy in dealing with me gently. One day we will settle again, but not today, probably not even this year.
Gods timing has given us a chance to hibernate and energize. We needed to be caught in the habit of wintering out so that we could be reminded why we are doing what we are doing. The winter season is, as we know it, a quiet season. It is during these quiet seasons that we are to rest because God is hard at work. He has been hard at work preparing our path so that we can hit the ground running.
Final lesson learned. We are the Jennings. We are not bugs. We do things Gods way, not the worlds. Even learning these simple lessons is all part of Gods timing. Our culture has us trained to expect immediate action but God's culture requires us to be still, listen deeply and wait for His answer. Sometimes it takes a few months, sometimes it takes a few years, sometimes the answer is instant and sometimes the answer is not now. No matter how long Gods timing takes, Gods timing is always perfect and until He reveals some of these answers we will keep on keepin'on.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
didn't see that one coming
So here we are. Soaking up enviable weather in Southern Arizona. We left Texas a few weeks ago and the drive from there to here felt like the longest road trip of any of our travels. East Texas is not the prettiest and we went through another state they call "New Mexico" but I don't remember much of it. It is suppose to be the Land of Enchantment so maybe that has something to do with my inability to retain something of substance about it. God enchanted my memories right out of my head in case I ever need to make the trip again. You know, kinda like child birth.
While we were in Texas I had a trial of isolation and detachment from people, family and fellowship. There were many people there but their availability to socialize was foreign to me. We had a heck of a time finding a true bible teaching church and actually, we never did. We still went but never could get connected. I was dying socially. I enjoyed Texas but I was not sad to move on. However, once again right before we left we got to know probably the person we were suppose to meet while we were there. This is gonna sound terrible but neither Jeramie or I can remember his name. That wouldn't be so bad except he was our immediate next door neighbor for 2 1/2 months.
Since we don't know his name we will call him "Bill". Bill is a single guy probably about 65 or 70. He lives by himself in his coach in the same RV slip in the same RV park for the last 5 years. He has a few toys that are well taken care of and you can see he has put a bit of money and alot of sweat into them. This is all no big deal except I couldn't help but wonder where his family was. The entire time we were there we never saw a single person visit him and though he left, he was never gone long enough to constitute the impression of a family visit. Jeramie visited with him more than I had and I never was able to get a satisfactory answer to my question so I decided I wasn't suppose to know. We shared our Thanksgiving dinner with him and than again at Christmas sent over some more holiday treats. He was thankful, I think, although he never actually said thank you. In fact, the second time we brought him something he barely opened the door to his motorhome much like an unsocial recluse. He had all of the lights off and all I could see was a silhouette as he reached his hand out to take the plate. I reminded myself I wasn't there really to visit as it was one of the colder days we spent in Texas after all. Our interaction went on like this for about a month and a half. Not much was exchanged but not much was uncomfortable either. Than I was out finishing my run and he started talking. I was a bit pre-occupied with my ipod so I had to re-adjust my focus because I didn't see the potential conversation coming. Once he started it was very difficult to get him to stop. And it was then that I got the low down.
Bill has actually been married twice with also a common-law wife to claim as well. His most recent common-law wife died a few years ago. He talked of nothing but good things about her. Her name was Lorraine. I can remember that but I can't remember "Bills" name and I cannot figure out why. He has two children, a boy and a girl that I assume are quite a bit older than myself. Both kids he hasn't talked to since the early '80's. He has a few grandchildren but doesn't know them and I got the feeling that he doesn't even know their names. To me this was a very sad story. He is all alone. He does have some siblings in another state and he did say he was thinking this might be his last winter in Texas and that he might head to Utah this next spring. It was apparent that he is beginning to realize that he is all alone. I was really bothered that he was all alone. I didn't feel the kind of "poor guy" feeling that one has when they feel sorry for a stray puppy but the kind of "poor guy" sympathy that hurts for someone when all you can do is look from the outside perspective in and know that they are living out the consequences of choices from earlier in life. Then I had to start evaluating how this happens. How does it get so bad that forgiveness cannot be found. I can think of a few but since I don't know the entire story I also cannot assume that he has done some very wrong things that has him alienated from his family. We weren't suppose to fix his problems. We weren't suppose to share the Gospel with him. We weren't even suppose to get to know him that well. We were only suppose to love on him as we were asked to by God. It is hard not to think that he might be one of the lost that has been left to his own choices in life and hardened by the world. The very difficult thing to grasp with our experience with Bill is that maybe we were only suppose to help make his time here on Earth just a little more gentle because without Christ, this is the best its going to get for him.
It might seem odd that we weren't suppose to share the truth with Bill but it isn't really when you know that your mouth and tongue have been shut in a super-natural way by the Holy Spirit himself. Than it is really fascinating when you think you should say something to someone specific but literally cannot and suddenly out of now where you are doing laundry with a random stranger and words just start coming out in ways you never saw coming and suddenly stop just like a water faucet turning on and off and they are all words about proclaiming my Christianity and salvation and all neatly fit in between "what brought you to Texas" and "where are you headed next". That my friends is a wild experience!
After all of my social starvation in Texas I was super stoked to find all of the amazing resources I had been craving in Southern Arizona. We instantly found a church, the RV resort we are staying at offers two separate bible studies and the sun ALWAYS shines! This time I was reminded again to be careful of what you wish for. The last time we expressed our desire to obey we ended up in a motorhome longterm. This time I am being forced to learn apologetics of my faith in a way I never new was possible. We started out on this journey thinking that we would be witnessing to non-believers. And we have, but this time around I am being challenged with false doctrine. I had no idea that the truth of the Gospel could get so twisted around in the ever so slightest way. It had started making me question myself in my understanding but I was quickly confirmed and edified by trusted teachers and the Holy Spirit through the straight up bible itself. This first few weeks in Arizona have been challenging both emotionally and spiritually. But I am up for the molding and chipping away that God seems to think is necessary. It is uncomfortable but reasonable and enlightening and I am submitted to the fact that it is all part of Him equipping us for whatever is next.
This winter has been hugely challenging in ways neither one of us imagined. There has been some serious spiritual house cleaning and redecorating all for what we think is preparation of asking the great question of "whats next?". However we are finding out that its actually bringing us to a place of readiness for the answer that often does not come in a gentle tug but rather in an Elijah with fire and chariots kind of way because the thing we have learned with being obedient Christians is this, you end up saying "wow! didn't see that one coming" alot.
While we were in Texas I had a trial of isolation and detachment from people, family and fellowship. There were many people there but their availability to socialize was foreign to me. We had a heck of a time finding a true bible teaching church and actually, we never did. We still went but never could get connected. I was dying socially. I enjoyed Texas but I was not sad to move on. However, once again right before we left we got to know probably the person we were suppose to meet while we were there. This is gonna sound terrible but neither Jeramie or I can remember his name. That wouldn't be so bad except he was our immediate next door neighbor for 2 1/2 months.
Since we don't know his name we will call him "Bill". Bill is a single guy probably about 65 or 70. He lives by himself in his coach in the same RV slip in the same RV park for the last 5 years. He has a few toys that are well taken care of and you can see he has put a bit of money and alot of sweat into them. This is all no big deal except I couldn't help but wonder where his family was. The entire time we were there we never saw a single person visit him and though he left, he was never gone long enough to constitute the impression of a family visit. Jeramie visited with him more than I had and I never was able to get a satisfactory answer to my question so I decided I wasn't suppose to know. We shared our Thanksgiving dinner with him and than again at Christmas sent over some more holiday treats. He was thankful, I think, although he never actually said thank you. In fact, the second time we brought him something he barely opened the door to his motorhome much like an unsocial recluse. He had all of the lights off and all I could see was a silhouette as he reached his hand out to take the plate. I reminded myself I wasn't there really to visit as it was one of the colder days we spent in Texas after all. Our interaction went on like this for about a month and a half. Not much was exchanged but not much was uncomfortable either. Than I was out finishing my run and he started talking. I was a bit pre-occupied with my ipod so I had to re-adjust my focus because I didn't see the potential conversation coming. Once he started it was very difficult to get him to stop. And it was then that I got the low down.
Bill has actually been married twice with also a common-law wife to claim as well. His most recent common-law wife died a few years ago. He talked of nothing but good things about her. Her name was Lorraine. I can remember that but I can't remember "Bills" name and I cannot figure out why. He has two children, a boy and a girl that I assume are quite a bit older than myself. Both kids he hasn't talked to since the early '80's. He has a few grandchildren but doesn't know them and I got the feeling that he doesn't even know their names. To me this was a very sad story. He is all alone. He does have some siblings in another state and he did say he was thinking this might be his last winter in Texas and that he might head to Utah this next spring. It was apparent that he is beginning to realize that he is all alone. I was really bothered that he was all alone. I didn't feel the kind of "poor guy" feeling that one has when they feel sorry for a stray puppy but the kind of "poor guy" sympathy that hurts for someone when all you can do is look from the outside perspective in and know that they are living out the consequences of choices from earlier in life. Then I had to start evaluating how this happens. How does it get so bad that forgiveness cannot be found. I can think of a few but since I don't know the entire story I also cannot assume that he has done some very wrong things that has him alienated from his family. We weren't suppose to fix his problems. We weren't suppose to share the Gospel with him. We weren't even suppose to get to know him that well. We were only suppose to love on him as we were asked to by God. It is hard not to think that he might be one of the lost that has been left to his own choices in life and hardened by the world. The very difficult thing to grasp with our experience with Bill is that maybe we were only suppose to help make his time here on Earth just a little more gentle because without Christ, this is the best its going to get for him.
It might seem odd that we weren't suppose to share the truth with Bill but it isn't really when you know that your mouth and tongue have been shut in a super-natural way by the Holy Spirit himself. Than it is really fascinating when you think you should say something to someone specific but literally cannot and suddenly out of now where you are doing laundry with a random stranger and words just start coming out in ways you never saw coming and suddenly stop just like a water faucet turning on and off and they are all words about proclaiming my Christianity and salvation and all neatly fit in between "what brought you to Texas" and "where are you headed next". That my friends is a wild experience!
After all of my social starvation in Texas I was super stoked to find all of the amazing resources I had been craving in Southern Arizona. We instantly found a church, the RV resort we are staying at offers two separate bible studies and the sun ALWAYS shines! This time I was reminded again to be careful of what you wish for. The last time we expressed our desire to obey we ended up in a motorhome longterm. This time I am being forced to learn apologetics of my faith in a way I never new was possible. We started out on this journey thinking that we would be witnessing to non-believers. And we have, but this time around I am being challenged with false doctrine. I had no idea that the truth of the Gospel could get so twisted around in the ever so slightest way. It had started making me question myself in my understanding but I was quickly confirmed and edified by trusted teachers and the Holy Spirit through the straight up bible itself. This first few weeks in Arizona have been challenging both emotionally and spiritually. But I am up for the molding and chipping away that God seems to think is necessary. It is uncomfortable but reasonable and enlightening and I am submitted to the fact that it is all part of Him equipping us for whatever is next.
This winter has been hugely challenging in ways neither one of us imagined. There has been some serious spiritual house cleaning and redecorating all for what we think is preparation of asking the great question of "whats next?". However we are finding out that its actually bringing us to a place of readiness for the answer that often does not come in a gentle tug but rather in an Elijah with fire and chariots kind of way because the thing we have learned with being obedient Christians is this, you end up saying "wow! didn't see that one coming" alot.
Friday, December 3, 2010
We are from Oregon
Well, here we are. Finally in NE Texas. We finished up our contract with the disaster in Illinois a few weeks ago. We spent a week in Kentucky doing some sight seeing. We got to finally go to the Creation Museum and we made our way down to Lexington to the Kentucky Horse Park. I met Funny Cide and Cigar. Both are multi-million dollar earning horses that have won the Kentucky Derby. It was a good break. It was nice to be out of Illinois. We left just in time to because the week we left the temperature dropped to below freezing. Then we hit the road for Texas.
We spent the next couple days enjoying the slow travel. We were all excited to finally be headed south. Then it happened. We drove through Texarkana crossing from Arkansas into Texas. Jeramie and I looked at each other and almost instantly said "well. we're here. Why are we here again?" "I am not really quite sure, why ARE we in Texas?"
We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because neither one of us would admit who picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because, in all actuality, we both picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because we didn't have a plan for when we got here. We left Oregon with sound reasoning to be in Texas but 5 months into it those reasons just don't seem to really be enough to support our presence in the Lone Star State. I was having a hard time locating the resources I like to have at my disposal. Jeramie was having a hard time finding something to do while on interim sebbatical. I was having a hard time helping Jeramie find something to do while on interim sabbatical. It is the main reason why it has taken me so long to update this journal, I have been keeping FOUR kids busy. So. What does a contractor do when he has nothing to do? Rehab a motorhome.
We knew there were some things we wanted to address during our down time but that was only going to take up about 48 hours of his time. Many of the upgrades are things that will make our equipment more efficient. He added something to the hot water heater that changed it from a gas powered to an electric powered heater. He replaced an awning. He tiled the bathroom. He remodeled my kitchen.
Wait. I guess I can't just tell you he updated my kitchen and leave it at that. I probably should tell you why updating my kitchen is so monumental for the Jennings family.
We have done our fair share of total home re-do's. Lowes loves us. They have gotten ALL of our money. Many people call Costco the $200 store. Well, Lowes is our $2000 store. Minimum. Costco is known to suck people in for longer lengths of time then they would like to admit. Lowes sucks us in for longer lengths of time then we realize. We have spent so much time in Lowes we have gotten to the point that people have actually asked if we drug our kids to get them to behave so well. In this particular guys defense, all three were about to crash out on the big flat lumber cart I was pushing around. It didn't click at first that my kids were "behaving" until I saw Lexi's head fall back and jerk forward again. So after his comment I looked at the time and realized that we had already been there for 4 1/2 hours. OK. It seems that we have what we need to complete our project so on we went to the check out line. We had made it through Lowe's without a single arguement! That my friends, has NEVER happened.
We took our busy work to the car, loaded up and high fived. Not because we scored some sort of smokin' deal but because we all made it out alive. And not one of us had any sort of emotional bruising from the experience. All in all it was a very good day.
The next day we tore it apart. He even let me help. Well, no, he didn't really "let" me help, in fact I vividly remember multiple statements of "can you just let me do it?" To which I responded "no. because you are not going to do it like I want". I mean, "my way" always supercedes actual contracting experience and knowledge. We made it out of Lowes intact but this just might start to get ugly. We spent the first 4 1/2 hours of the morning disagreeing on many things. I was fighting for a few positions. At one point I remember walking away after he asked me a question that I "didn't" hear. "Hello! Are you going to answer me?" "Answer what?" "How do you want this?" "I don't know, your the contractor." "I am ASKING you for your opinion because if this doesn't turn out the way you want it will be all my fault". I was quickly reminded of Adam and Eve and the fall. Thank you Eve. Wait a second, God didn't blame Eve, he blamed Adam, so YES Jeramie, YES! It will be your fault. Even if I do put in my two cents, even if you do what I want you to and it doesn't turn out. You are the contractor, I am not. I finally surrendered on some and he gave me my way on the others. He got his 45 degree angles and I got my 90 degree corner.
It turned out great, and I will admit that that too is also his "fault". I mean if it is going to be his fault when it turns out not to my liking than I guess it has to be his fault when it does turn out to my liking. My husband knows his stuff. What good is the vision if no one is able to bring it to fruition? I no longer have corn flower blue formica counter top held together with gorilla glue. I now have a more modern, old world style kitchen with tile and oil rubbed bronze. I had to stand firm for the faucet to. "What is wrong with the faucet we have?" "It is stainless steel and doesn't fit well with the elements we have added." "Dawn. It is just a motorhome." "Umm. No. It is not. It is MY home." In all of our previous rehab projects we both have our job descriptions and we stick to them. I design and he builds. I drop off materials and LEAVE. We survived our first project TOGETHER and no one died! Well, that is not quite true. We built a doghouse together once but we were only dating and not married yet so it doesn't count. We were both still on our best behavior back then.
We still do not know why we are in Texas. I definitely do not fit in. After having a hard time finding the yuppie, urban, organic products that I not only love but, to a certain extent need (for our health),I had a meltdown and was ready to head for my beloved Bend. But then we watched the weather channel and saw the nasty weather report and quickly realized there was no way could get this tank across the passes so we couldn't leave even if we really wanted to. And we really didn't want to, what we wanted was to just be able to pitch a good fit. So, here I was again, convicted by God to get it together and quit pouting. As soon as I threw my fit and got it out of my system everything came together. I have located all of the resources I cling to, have met some of the people of Texas and started to embrace their ways. I say "their ways" because it is "their ways". I have heard before that there is the United States and then there is Texas. I can now tell you from experience that there is the United States and then there is Texas.
I have started telling people up front when meeting them or dealing with them on whatever level that I am not from Texas. Once I do that, I can no longer be offensive for being a snob. Now I get the "bless her heart" smile and everytime I am now gently babied through whatever it is I am trying to do. I met a lady in the grocery store aisle with the same blank stare that I know I have sported many times before because we are unfamiliar with their products. I must obviously not look like I am from Texas because she gleaned onto me like a magnet. We shared a "I feel your pain" moment and we bid each other luck. On the way out the cashier asked Lexi if she was ready for Santa to come, had she been good or bad and all that stuff. My diplomatic 4 year old shared with her the truth and saved the cashier from the Santa Clause myth. "No, no. Santa isn't real. He is just all the kids moms and dads." She cocked her head and cracked a "pour thing, bless her heart" smile toward the cashier. Texas is already starting to rub off on my kids. I, on the other hand, am resistant to any changing and I can assure you the next time you see me I will not be speaking with a twangy drawl. I am a Pacific Northwestern, organic snob and I am quite okay with that.
I was actually surprised Lexi was able to understand her. A few days earlier we had an incident where she felt like she needed to correct an elderly ladies pronunciation skills. She was visiting with three older ladies about their little dogs. One of the ladies commented how her dog had the hiccups. "She has the he-cups, d'ya'll ever get the he-cups?" "the what?" "the he-cups" "no. what do you mean 'tea cup?'" "No Lex, the HICCUPS. yes, you get the hiccups." She looked the lady square in the eyes and said "oh! no,no. It's not 'tea cups' its 'hick cups'" using her hands to break up the word into two syllables. Fortunately for us Texans do everything big and that includes having big hearts because the women laughed hysterically and the one she was correcting scooped her up into a BIG hug.
We may never know why we are in Texas except that we are not suffering through the crazy cold spell in the PacNW. We may never know why we are in Texas except that it reminds us how much we love Oregon. We may never know why we are in Texas except that Texans are the perfect example of showing what it means to love on people. What we do know is that although we are now officially part time residents of Texas we will always be FROM Oregon.
We spent the next couple days enjoying the slow travel. We were all excited to finally be headed south. Then it happened. We drove through Texarkana crossing from Arkansas into Texas. Jeramie and I looked at each other and almost instantly said "well. we're here. Why are we here again?" "I am not really quite sure, why ARE we in Texas?"
We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because neither one of us would admit who picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because, in all actuality, we both picked Texas. We spent the first week in Texas irritated with each other because we didn't have a plan for when we got here. We left Oregon with sound reasoning to be in Texas but 5 months into it those reasons just don't seem to really be enough to support our presence in the Lone Star State. I was having a hard time locating the resources I like to have at my disposal. Jeramie was having a hard time finding something to do while on interim sebbatical. I was having a hard time helping Jeramie find something to do while on interim sabbatical. It is the main reason why it has taken me so long to update this journal, I have been keeping FOUR kids busy. So. What does a contractor do when he has nothing to do? Rehab a motorhome.
We knew there were some things we wanted to address during our down time but that was only going to take up about 48 hours of his time. Many of the upgrades are things that will make our equipment more efficient. He added something to the hot water heater that changed it from a gas powered to an electric powered heater. He replaced an awning. He tiled the bathroom. He remodeled my kitchen.
Wait. I guess I can't just tell you he updated my kitchen and leave it at that. I probably should tell you why updating my kitchen is so monumental for the Jennings family.
We have done our fair share of total home re-do's. Lowes loves us. They have gotten ALL of our money. Many people call Costco the $200 store. Well, Lowes is our $2000 store. Minimum. Costco is known to suck people in for longer lengths of time then they would like to admit. Lowes sucks us in for longer lengths of time then we realize. We have spent so much time in Lowes we have gotten to the point that people have actually asked if we drug our kids to get them to behave so well. In this particular guys defense, all three were about to crash out on the big flat lumber cart I was pushing around. It didn't click at first that my kids were "behaving" until I saw Lexi's head fall back and jerk forward again. So after his comment I looked at the time and realized that we had already been there for 4 1/2 hours. OK. It seems that we have what we need to complete our project so on we went to the check out line. We had made it through Lowe's without a single arguement! That my friends, has NEVER happened.
We took our busy work to the car, loaded up and high fived. Not because we scored some sort of smokin' deal but because we all made it out alive. And not one of us had any sort of emotional bruising from the experience. All in all it was a very good day.
The next day we tore it apart. He even let me help. Well, no, he didn't really "let" me help, in fact I vividly remember multiple statements of "can you just let me do it?" To which I responded "no. because you are not going to do it like I want". I mean, "my way" always supercedes actual contracting experience and knowledge. We made it out of Lowes intact but this just might start to get ugly. We spent the first 4 1/2 hours of the morning disagreeing on many things. I was fighting for a few positions. At one point I remember walking away after he asked me a question that I "didn't" hear. "Hello! Are you going to answer me?" "Answer what?" "How do you want this?" "I don't know, your the contractor." "I am ASKING you for your opinion because if this doesn't turn out the way you want it will be all my fault". I was quickly reminded of Adam and Eve and the fall. Thank you Eve. Wait a second, God didn't blame Eve, he blamed Adam, so YES Jeramie, YES! It will be your fault. Even if I do put in my two cents, even if you do what I want you to and it doesn't turn out. You are the contractor, I am not. I finally surrendered on some and he gave me my way on the others. He got his 45 degree angles and I got my 90 degree corner.
It turned out great, and I will admit that that too is also his "fault". I mean if it is going to be his fault when it turns out not to my liking than I guess it has to be his fault when it does turn out to my liking. My husband knows his stuff. What good is the vision if no one is able to bring it to fruition? I no longer have corn flower blue formica counter top held together with gorilla glue. I now have a more modern, old world style kitchen with tile and oil rubbed bronze. I had to stand firm for the faucet to. "What is wrong with the faucet we have?" "It is stainless steel and doesn't fit well with the elements we have added." "Dawn. It is just a motorhome." "Umm. No. It is not. It is MY home." In all of our previous rehab projects we both have our job descriptions and we stick to them. I design and he builds. I drop off materials and LEAVE. We survived our first project TOGETHER and no one died! Well, that is not quite true. We built a doghouse together once but we were only dating and not married yet so it doesn't count. We were both still on our best behavior back then.
We still do not know why we are in Texas. I definitely do not fit in. After having a hard time finding the yuppie, urban, organic products that I not only love but, to a certain extent need (for our health),I had a meltdown and was ready to head for my beloved Bend. But then we watched the weather channel and saw the nasty weather report and quickly realized there was no way could get this tank across the passes so we couldn't leave even if we really wanted to. And we really didn't want to, what we wanted was to just be able to pitch a good fit. So, here I was again, convicted by God to get it together and quit pouting. As soon as I threw my fit and got it out of my system everything came together. I have located all of the resources I cling to, have met some of the people of Texas and started to embrace their ways. I say "their ways" because it is "their ways". I have heard before that there is the United States and then there is Texas. I can now tell you from experience that there is the United States and then there is Texas.
I have started telling people up front when meeting them or dealing with them on whatever level that I am not from Texas. Once I do that, I can no longer be offensive for being a snob. Now I get the "bless her heart" smile and everytime I am now gently babied through whatever it is I am trying to do. I met a lady in the grocery store aisle with the same blank stare that I know I have sported many times before because we are unfamiliar with their products. I must obviously not look like I am from Texas because she gleaned onto me like a magnet. We shared a "I feel your pain" moment and we bid each other luck. On the way out the cashier asked Lexi if she was ready for Santa to come, had she been good or bad and all that stuff. My diplomatic 4 year old shared with her the truth and saved the cashier from the Santa Clause myth. "No, no. Santa isn't real. He is just all the kids moms and dads." She cocked her head and cracked a "pour thing, bless her heart" smile toward the cashier. Texas is already starting to rub off on my kids. I, on the other hand, am resistant to any changing and I can assure you the next time you see me I will not be speaking with a twangy drawl. I am a Pacific Northwestern, organic snob and I am quite okay with that.
I was actually surprised Lexi was able to understand her. A few days earlier we had an incident where she felt like she needed to correct an elderly ladies pronunciation skills. She was visiting with three older ladies about their little dogs. One of the ladies commented how her dog had the hiccups. "She has the he-cups, d'ya'll ever get the he-cups?" "the what?" "the he-cups" "no. what do you mean 'tea cup?'" "No Lex, the HICCUPS. yes, you get the hiccups." She looked the lady square in the eyes and said "oh! no,no. It's not 'tea cups' its 'hick cups'" using her hands to break up the word into two syllables. Fortunately for us Texans do everything big and that includes having big hearts because the women laughed hysterically and the one she was correcting scooped her up into a BIG hug.
We may never know why we are in Texas except that we are not suffering through the crazy cold spell in the PacNW. We may never know why we are in Texas except that it reminds us how much we love Oregon. We may never know why we are in Texas except that Texans are the perfect example of showing what it means to love on people. What we do know is that although we are now officially part time residents of Texas we will always be FROM Oregon.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The "Laundry Basket"
Our motorhome is set up with and came with a washer/dryer. When I said our “coach” had everything we needed I meant it. Oh, except a dishwasher but I am surviving without it so I guess I don’t really need one of those. On the other hand, I have recently found out that I don’t need a washer and dryer either. No, that does not mean we recycle clothing or stink from a mile away, it just means that I have become familiar with the ever dreaded laundry mat. Our convenient clothing cleansing appliance has fouled out and doesn’t work correctly anymore. We looked into replacement parts for it briefly before we found out that the brand that we have has been discontinued so I guess repairing it isn’t going to be an easy or cost effective option. Jeramie has been trying to talk me into buying a new set. I have sat on the mental discussion of what to do about it for quite awhile now. This week Jeramie has persistently encouraged me to figure out what replacement appliance I want. Ugh, I finally had the mental capacity to remember to do this but no matter how much research I did, I could not come to actually purchasing one. It didn’t take me long to pick one out but knowing what I want and actually moving forward with that choice are two separate things. I finally got smart and asked “Ok God, what is my deal? Why can’t I bring myself to commit to something so practically easy. I mean we “need” one right? I have to wash our clothing which I absolutely hate to do with a passion. It makes life simple and I do not have to schedule time in our week to have the laundry done. Who doesn’t want a brand new top of the line LG washer/dryer? And the money we would save every week would be crazy”. I still couldn’t bring myself to come to an answer. Well what are you suppose to do when you are presented with choices you don’t know what to do with? Take it to the scripture. Hmm, well unfortunately there isn’t anything specific about my great washer/dryer dilemma. Well, when you don’t have an answer confirmed by scripture, what do you do? Wait on the Lord. Ok. I can do that. I guess you could say that I have been inadvertently doing that already. If my husband has to stop me, look me in the eye to say “please pick out your washer/dryer this week” then I guess I have been waiting on something.
Sunday. Sunday is suppose to be a day of rest. Sunday is reserved for church which we have been faithful in attending even when away from our home church. It is followed with family time of some sort. And then I do the laundry. At the laundry mat. Sometimes my family comes with but most of the time I get to go alone. We researched our laundry facility options when we first got into the area. Kankakee “Laundry Basket” was the one. God definitely has me stepping out of my comfort zone when I do laundry at the “Laundry Basket”. However, when you step out of your comfort zone, great things can happen. Scary things can happen too but mostly cool things will happen.
Let me set up the visual for you all first. The area we are staying in is south of Chicago but Kankakee is more like an outer oozing of Chicago itself and is still considered part of “Chicagoland” as it is referred to by the local residents. I am always the only white girl. I thought about using the word “Caucasian” to stay politically correct but the African-American demographic call me a white girl so I guess it is ok to call myself a white girl. I am ignored by most of the patrons as I am now the minority. It is a weird experience but completely revealing. I do not speak the same language as most of the people there so I rarely understand any of the conversation around me. I have been sized up by some women and checked out in more ways than one by some men. I have been evaluated for what might be in my purse and still haven’t figured out if it is safer locked in the car or with me inside. I was asked if I was interested in purchasing some “new movies” and was surrounded by a “discrete” illegal commercial exchange where the parties where actually brushing my shoulder to pass back and forth beside me while I was trying to blend into the side of my car hoping I would not be seen. I learned super fast what exactly “new movies” were and they aren’t actually new movies. I have walked into the middle of a heated, jealous exchange between two separate groups of African-American men discussing two women standing between the guys. I do know that no matter how big the mountain of laundry gets I will not be doing it after dark. But, no matter how uncomfortable it gets, I keep getting drawn back so every week I trudge dirty clothing for a family of five into town to the “Laundry basket”. This particular place offers a laundry service for only a dollar a pound and every week I think that having them do it for us might not be a bad idea but the idea is motivated out of my lack of love for the chore of laundry and my pure laziness so I never really entertain that thought for long. Jeramie use to come instituting his protective authority but compared to what he sees every day, doing the laundry is a day at the fair. He trusts me to be wise and trusts God to protect so he doesn’t come anymore even though he asks me if I want him to every week.
It was this last Sunday that God revealed to me why I cannot bring myself to buy an appliance for my “house”. There is regularly a particular girl who is the attendant on duty. She is a young mother of three, Hispanic, and fortunately for me, bilingual. The first time I saw her I spoke with her in light conversation. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. Then I saw her the next Sunday. We got into some deeper conversation just learning about her and trying to encourage her to persevere. A few more visits let me learn that she aspires to be a special education teacher but her English isn’t good enough to pass the community college placement tests so she has to complete a reading comprehension class before she can even think about enrolling. She is from Kankakee. She grew up here and her English still isn’t very good. Like I said, I am a minority. Then the next Sunday I didn’t see her. It must have been her day off. Dang! I wanted to find out how her class was going. Oh well, laundry it is. This last Sunday I went in not thinking about Becky but rather I was focused on some quiet time to read my Kindle while multi-tasking the laundry chore. When I walked in the little Hispanic girl behind the bullet-proof attendants’ station started waving enthusiastically, “Hi! Hi! I haven’t seen you in awhile. I have been wondering when I was going to get to see you again!” I was totally taken off guard and by surprise. It has been awhile since someone was super excited to see me. “Oh! Hi…” and the conversation took off. It ended with me offering to help her with her reading class and her discouragement in failing was lifted. Cool things. Cool things happen when you step out of your comfort zone. Becky is not the only way God has edified me through the laundry mat. One visit allowed me to watch Oprah with an elderly-ish African-American man. Martha Stewart taught us how to perfectly fold the fitted sheet. We both had a “well would you look at that” giggle and shared a confirming confession through eye contact that it was to labor intensive for either one of us. He went back to his laundry stating that he thought he would keep his way and I agreed. I personally do not see anything wrong with rolling it into a big ball and shoving it on the shelf anyways. Once when my kids went with me we were surrounded by a handful of African-American kids. All of the kids played together happily and even felt so comfortable with us that they were sharing my space like I was their sister or something. I have tried to speak to some Hispanic women but we just end up cracking up that none of us can understand what the other wants to say. I have been graciously saved by an African-American woman who did not speak English. She walked all the way across the room to show me that the dryer I was going to use was “out of order”. She had no particular need or reason to do that. She was simply there to do her laundry too.
During this whole experience the most profound thing has been taught to me by my 4 year old daughter. Lexi is our butterfly chaser. She exudes love and she loves people. She can make friends anywhere. What she has taught me has actually had me using African-American instead of black in reference to some people. Its not that African-Americans are offended if you call them black, most are not offended. That’s not the lesson though. The reason why I refer to them as African-American is because Lexi CANNOT see their black skin. Whenever I refer to an African-American as black she argues that they are not black. Their skin is brown. Just like ours, only dark brown. She has made a new friend at Sunday school who she lovingly calls her friend with the brown skin. That was the final revelation. I am no different than the rest of the patrons of the “Laundry Basket”. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if I stay within my own social circle. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if all I see are segregated groups and not necessarily in a racial profile way but simply in a different-then-me way. As much as I was open to being there because God wanted me there I still saw “Black”, “Mexican” and felt very “White”. Laundry outside my home is a chance for ministry. I love this ministry which, I guess, means that I now love to do laundry. For now, we will not be purchasing a new washer/dryer unit. God works in mysterious ways….
Sunday. Sunday is suppose to be a day of rest. Sunday is reserved for church which we have been faithful in attending even when away from our home church. It is followed with family time of some sort. And then I do the laundry. At the laundry mat. Sometimes my family comes with but most of the time I get to go alone. We researched our laundry facility options when we first got into the area. Kankakee “Laundry Basket” was the one. God definitely has me stepping out of my comfort zone when I do laundry at the “Laundry Basket”. However, when you step out of your comfort zone, great things can happen. Scary things can happen too but mostly cool things will happen.
Let me set up the visual for you all first. The area we are staying in is south of Chicago but Kankakee is more like an outer oozing of Chicago itself and is still considered part of “Chicagoland” as it is referred to by the local residents. I am always the only white girl. I thought about using the word “Caucasian” to stay politically correct but the African-American demographic call me a white girl so I guess it is ok to call myself a white girl. I am ignored by most of the patrons as I am now the minority. It is a weird experience but completely revealing. I do not speak the same language as most of the people there so I rarely understand any of the conversation around me. I have been sized up by some women and checked out in more ways than one by some men. I have been evaluated for what might be in my purse and still haven’t figured out if it is safer locked in the car or with me inside. I was asked if I was interested in purchasing some “new movies” and was surrounded by a “discrete” illegal commercial exchange where the parties where actually brushing my shoulder to pass back and forth beside me while I was trying to blend into the side of my car hoping I would not be seen. I learned super fast what exactly “new movies” were and they aren’t actually new movies. I have walked into the middle of a heated, jealous exchange between two separate groups of African-American men discussing two women standing between the guys. I do know that no matter how big the mountain of laundry gets I will not be doing it after dark. But, no matter how uncomfortable it gets, I keep getting drawn back so every week I trudge dirty clothing for a family of five into town to the “Laundry basket”. This particular place offers a laundry service for only a dollar a pound and every week I think that having them do it for us might not be a bad idea but the idea is motivated out of my lack of love for the chore of laundry and my pure laziness so I never really entertain that thought for long. Jeramie use to come instituting his protective authority but compared to what he sees every day, doing the laundry is a day at the fair. He trusts me to be wise and trusts God to protect so he doesn’t come anymore even though he asks me if I want him to every week.
It was this last Sunday that God revealed to me why I cannot bring myself to buy an appliance for my “house”. There is regularly a particular girl who is the attendant on duty. She is a young mother of three, Hispanic, and fortunately for me, bilingual. The first time I saw her I spoke with her in light conversation. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. Then I saw her the next Sunday. We got into some deeper conversation just learning about her and trying to encourage her to persevere. A few more visits let me learn that she aspires to be a special education teacher but her English isn’t good enough to pass the community college placement tests so she has to complete a reading comprehension class before she can even think about enrolling. She is from Kankakee. She grew up here and her English still isn’t very good. Like I said, I am a minority. Then the next Sunday I didn’t see her. It must have been her day off. Dang! I wanted to find out how her class was going. Oh well, laundry it is. This last Sunday I went in not thinking about Becky but rather I was focused on some quiet time to read my Kindle while multi-tasking the laundry chore. When I walked in the little Hispanic girl behind the bullet-proof attendants’ station started waving enthusiastically, “Hi! Hi! I haven’t seen you in awhile. I have been wondering when I was going to get to see you again!” I was totally taken off guard and by surprise. It has been awhile since someone was super excited to see me. “Oh! Hi…” and the conversation took off. It ended with me offering to help her with her reading class and her discouragement in failing was lifted. Cool things. Cool things happen when you step out of your comfort zone. Becky is not the only way God has edified me through the laundry mat. One visit allowed me to watch Oprah with an elderly-ish African-American man. Martha Stewart taught us how to perfectly fold the fitted sheet. We both had a “well would you look at that” giggle and shared a confirming confession through eye contact that it was to labor intensive for either one of us. He went back to his laundry stating that he thought he would keep his way and I agreed. I personally do not see anything wrong with rolling it into a big ball and shoving it on the shelf anyways. Once when my kids went with me we were surrounded by a handful of African-American kids. All of the kids played together happily and even felt so comfortable with us that they were sharing my space like I was their sister or something. I have tried to speak to some Hispanic women but we just end up cracking up that none of us can understand what the other wants to say. I have been graciously saved by an African-American woman who did not speak English. She walked all the way across the room to show me that the dryer I was going to use was “out of order”. She had no particular need or reason to do that. She was simply there to do her laundry too.
During this whole experience the most profound thing has been taught to me by my 4 year old daughter. Lexi is our butterfly chaser. She exudes love and she loves people. She can make friends anywhere. What she has taught me has actually had me using African-American instead of black in reference to some people. Its not that African-Americans are offended if you call them black, most are not offended. That’s not the lesson though. The reason why I refer to them as African-American is because Lexi CANNOT see their black skin. Whenever I refer to an African-American as black she argues that they are not black. Their skin is brown. Just like ours, only dark brown. She has made a new friend at Sunday school who she lovingly calls her friend with the brown skin. That was the final revelation. I am no different than the rest of the patrons of the “Laundry Basket”. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if I stay within my own social circle. How can I possibly show the love of Christ if all I see are segregated groups and not necessarily in a racial profile way but simply in a different-then-me way. As much as I was open to being there because God wanted me there I still saw “Black”, “Mexican” and felt very “White”. Laundry outside my home is a chance for ministry. I love this ministry which, I guess, means that I now love to do laundry. For now, we will not be purchasing a new washer/dryer unit. God works in mysterious ways….
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Gentlemen, start your engines!
Noise, smoke and coors light. Yes. I admit it. Our family spent Friday night at the stock car races in the middle of a corn field in Illinois. After all of our big city culture with museums and skyscrapers it was time to take advantage of some good old small town entertainment.
We have been in Chabanse for almost three weeks now. We are staying at a KOA that is about 3 miles from the raceway. The cars are so loud that we can hear them all the way out where we are at, tearing it up until about midnight every Friday night. Jeramie has worked to late into the evening for us to go this last couple of weekends but we keep reminding ourselves every Saturday morning that we are gonna go.
Finally, the opportunity presented itself. All he had to do was say the word “race”. The kids and I tore through the motorhome diving into the dressers changing our clothes to be appropriately attired for some good country fun. The kids were prepared and for once they were allowed to go outside and play while they waited for mom and dad. I had to repeat myself because the stares of disbelief from the three pairs of deep blue eyes that waited patiently on the couch hands quietly in their laps stated that they all thought they were mistaken in what they heard. “go outside to play? But we just got dressed to go.” “Yes…we are going to the races. It will be Ok if you are a little dirty.” “YES! This is gonna be awesome. We don’t even have to stay clean Lexi!” Andon flew out the door with his sisters close in tow.
It was my turn to get ready. I started digging for clothes. There, in the back, under my yuppie suede Emu boots. I pulled them out like they were an artifact that any museum would pay big money for. Still dark blue with that new vintage wash feel. My Wrangler Twenty-X jeans. I haven’t really worn these in almost ten years. I have lovingly held onto them knowing that I would need them again some day. Today was someday. I was a little worried they wouldn’t fit. I have had three kids and spend my days sitting down homeschooling. Lets face it. Things have rearranged themselves since the last time I pulled these jeans on. I mean, I can’t go to the races in racing country in my Miss Sixty’s (which are actually my very favorite pair of jeans) but I am not ignorant to the culture and recognize that my city jeans just wouldn’t do. Besides, I might get them dirty. Anyway, the moment of truth. Here we go. They fit! They fit! I didn’t even have to hold my breath or suck it in! I did a silent little dance in the privacy of my “walk-in” closet a.k.a. the kids bedroom and threw on a straight up plain gray hoodie. My husband was all smiles, for once he was able to quietly leave without someone (me) asking “is that what you’re going to where?”. In fact, he took the initiative to remove the Polo shirt he had been wearing in fear he would be “to preppy”, threw on a hoodie himself and we were out the door.
You could hear the cars warming up as we wandered toward the ticket booth. Our anticipation was building. Honestly, none of us have ever been to a stock car race before. This was a first for the Jennings family as a whole. The kids and I stood back while Jeramie purchased the tickets. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even think about the cost involved. $12 bucks a person! Luckily the kids were still young enough that they got in for free, but all in all it has been the most expensive outing we have been on and that includes our trips to Chicago. Whatever. I don’t care. Just getting out of the house made it worth every penny.
We picked out seats. Five rows up, thirty feet from the fence, closer to turn two. Holy Cow these things are LOUD. It is so loud that you cannot hear the announcer no matter how hard he tries to compete with the cars over the PA system. BY the way. Do they have a special announcers school where they train your vocals or something? All of these outdoor event announcers all sound exactly the same. It started just like all good events do, with the National Anthem and our countries flag circling the track. We settled in as the first heat came up and over the entry gate at turn one. Hmm, what do we have here. Nissan Sentras, Ford Pintos etcetera. I joked with Jeramie to keep his eye out for my old 1992 Toyota Paseo. Wait, I have seen this before…but where? Oh yeah, on my mission trip to Tijuana in high school. Looks just like the streets of Mexico, all jockeying for position bouncing over the dirt reminding me of the Mexican Taxi’s who used the ditch for passing five lanes of traffic. It’s rather interesting how memories arise. Andon and I just learned that our brains produce 70 thousand thoughts a day. Who knew that I would go to a race out in the middle of the corn fields and recall my trip to Mexico. I guess this is just one of my 70 thousand thoughts a day. OK. Moving on. The little cars were fun to watch but we wanted the real action. We finally got to the true stock cars with sponsors and logos on the sides. With each heat the cars got bigger and the drivers got better. Or so we thought. As they got faster, they got more squirrelly. We became frustrated during one of the heats where the contestants were more advanced. A lot of drivers had a tough time with turn one. In fact, a few cars disappeared up and over the top of the turn never to be seen again. I am guessing they withdrew from the race. We witnessed a four car synchronized spin out. It appeared professionally choreographed. Even the seasoned spectators thought that it was unique. Each heat had eight laps. In this particular heat one of the drivers spun out in turn one five separate laps. He was disqualified. Finally. They got rid of the greenhorns and got back to business. Number 17. He’s the man. Number 17 is one impressive car. Number 17 got to have his picture taken in the winners circle while waving the checkered flag. Too bad I don’t gamble. I’d have won.
As we people watched in between heats, (come on, don’t judge us, you know you all do it to), I quickly realized that we had actually underdressed for the occasion. We don’t own any sweatshirts with Jack Daniels No. 7 on the back or jackets with name Budweiser printed from all angles possible. I haven’t quite figured out the point of the Anhueiser Buschs’ marketing arrangement on the jackets yet except that maybe it is so that no matter what drunken position you end up in you will always know why you have ended up in the position you ended up in. They were selling the 50/50 raffle tickets. One of the items in the running was a Coors Light jacket. Jeramie had his eye on that. Since he can’t get good local brews out here he has taken a liking to Coors Light. I challenged him that if he won he was to wear it to every micro-brewery we go to from here on out. He agreed. Then we saw the 50/50 girls. Why would I expect anything less. You know, girls who are endowed in areas that make you wonder if their backs hurt frequently barely covered by shirts that enhanced these areas so that when they are standing in front of you selling tickets the only thing you see are their assets. Sorry Jeramie, no jacket for you this time around. I understand that this kind of marketing tool sells tickets and in a tough economy organizations are desperate to use whatever means they have to, but my husband isn’t going to freeze this winter. Not enough atleast to pay with the expense of his burned retina’s. His Mountain Hardware snowboarding coat is going to have to do.
The kids did great. Never once did they get upset by the noise. Wait. That makes me wonder if they have undiagnosed hearing problems. I can’t even begin to recollect how many times a day I try to get their attention only to be ignored and told “I didn’t hear you”. Maybe they really can’t hear me. Addison was so unmoved by the noise that promptly at 8:30, her bed time, she snuggled in and fell fast asleep. Let me remind you that we were only 30 feet from the fence. OK. No more bedtime excuses with needing to keep quiet or Addi won’t fall asleep. Her cover has been officially blown. I now know that the kid can sleep through anything.
The evening was a blast, brought back some fun memories and created some new ones. All we can say is look out Indianapolis 500. Here come the Jennings! We are officially racing fans.
We have been in Chabanse for almost three weeks now. We are staying at a KOA that is about 3 miles from the raceway. The cars are so loud that we can hear them all the way out where we are at, tearing it up until about midnight every Friday night. Jeramie has worked to late into the evening for us to go this last couple of weekends but we keep reminding ourselves every Saturday morning that we are gonna go.
Finally, the opportunity presented itself. All he had to do was say the word “race”. The kids and I tore through the motorhome diving into the dressers changing our clothes to be appropriately attired for some good country fun. The kids were prepared and for once they were allowed to go outside and play while they waited for mom and dad. I had to repeat myself because the stares of disbelief from the three pairs of deep blue eyes that waited patiently on the couch hands quietly in their laps stated that they all thought they were mistaken in what they heard. “go outside to play? But we just got dressed to go.” “Yes…we are going to the races. It will be Ok if you are a little dirty.” “YES! This is gonna be awesome. We don’t even have to stay clean Lexi!” Andon flew out the door with his sisters close in tow.
It was my turn to get ready. I started digging for clothes. There, in the back, under my yuppie suede Emu boots. I pulled them out like they were an artifact that any museum would pay big money for. Still dark blue with that new vintage wash feel. My Wrangler Twenty-X jeans. I haven’t really worn these in almost ten years. I have lovingly held onto them knowing that I would need them again some day. Today was someday. I was a little worried they wouldn’t fit. I have had three kids and spend my days sitting down homeschooling. Lets face it. Things have rearranged themselves since the last time I pulled these jeans on. I mean, I can’t go to the races in racing country in my Miss Sixty’s (which are actually my very favorite pair of jeans) but I am not ignorant to the culture and recognize that my city jeans just wouldn’t do. Besides, I might get them dirty. Anyway, the moment of truth. Here we go. They fit! They fit! I didn’t even have to hold my breath or suck it in! I did a silent little dance in the privacy of my “walk-in” closet a.k.a. the kids bedroom and threw on a straight up plain gray hoodie. My husband was all smiles, for once he was able to quietly leave without someone (me) asking “is that what you’re going to where?”. In fact, he took the initiative to remove the Polo shirt he had been wearing in fear he would be “to preppy”, threw on a hoodie himself and we were out the door.
You could hear the cars warming up as we wandered toward the ticket booth. Our anticipation was building. Honestly, none of us have ever been to a stock car race before. This was a first for the Jennings family as a whole. The kids and I stood back while Jeramie purchased the tickets. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even think about the cost involved. $12 bucks a person! Luckily the kids were still young enough that they got in for free, but all in all it has been the most expensive outing we have been on and that includes our trips to Chicago. Whatever. I don’t care. Just getting out of the house made it worth every penny.
We picked out seats. Five rows up, thirty feet from the fence, closer to turn two. Holy Cow these things are LOUD. It is so loud that you cannot hear the announcer no matter how hard he tries to compete with the cars over the PA system. BY the way. Do they have a special announcers school where they train your vocals or something? All of these outdoor event announcers all sound exactly the same. It started just like all good events do, with the National Anthem and our countries flag circling the track. We settled in as the first heat came up and over the entry gate at turn one. Hmm, what do we have here. Nissan Sentras, Ford Pintos etcetera. I joked with Jeramie to keep his eye out for my old 1992 Toyota Paseo. Wait, I have seen this before…but where? Oh yeah, on my mission trip to Tijuana in high school. Looks just like the streets of Mexico, all jockeying for position bouncing over the dirt reminding me of the Mexican Taxi’s who used the ditch for passing five lanes of traffic. It’s rather interesting how memories arise. Andon and I just learned that our brains produce 70 thousand thoughts a day. Who knew that I would go to a race out in the middle of the corn fields and recall my trip to Mexico. I guess this is just one of my 70 thousand thoughts a day. OK. Moving on. The little cars were fun to watch but we wanted the real action. We finally got to the true stock cars with sponsors and logos on the sides. With each heat the cars got bigger and the drivers got better. Or so we thought. As they got faster, they got more squirrelly. We became frustrated during one of the heats where the contestants were more advanced. A lot of drivers had a tough time with turn one. In fact, a few cars disappeared up and over the top of the turn never to be seen again. I am guessing they withdrew from the race. We witnessed a four car synchronized spin out. It appeared professionally choreographed. Even the seasoned spectators thought that it was unique. Each heat had eight laps. In this particular heat one of the drivers spun out in turn one five separate laps. He was disqualified. Finally. They got rid of the greenhorns and got back to business. Number 17. He’s the man. Number 17 is one impressive car. Number 17 got to have his picture taken in the winners circle while waving the checkered flag. Too bad I don’t gamble. I’d have won.
As we people watched in between heats, (come on, don’t judge us, you know you all do it to), I quickly realized that we had actually underdressed for the occasion. We don’t own any sweatshirts with Jack Daniels No. 7 on the back or jackets with name Budweiser printed from all angles possible. I haven’t quite figured out the point of the Anhueiser Buschs’ marketing arrangement on the jackets yet except that maybe it is so that no matter what drunken position you end up in you will always know why you have ended up in the position you ended up in. They were selling the 50/50 raffle tickets. One of the items in the running was a Coors Light jacket. Jeramie had his eye on that. Since he can’t get good local brews out here he has taken a liking to Coors Light. I challenged him that if he won he was to wear it to every micro-brewery we go to from here on out. He agreed. Then we saw the 50/50 girls. Why would I expect anything less. You know, girls who are endowed in areas that make you wonder if their backs hurt frequently barely covered by shirts that enhanced these areas so that when they are standing in front of you selling tickets the only thing you see are their assets. Sorry Jeramie, no jacket for you this time around. I understand that this kind of marketing tool sells tickets and in a tough economy organizations are desperate to use whatever means they have to, but my husband isn’t going to freeze this winter. Not enough atleast to pay with the expense of his burned retina’s. His Mountain Hardware snowboarding coat is going to have to do.
The kids did great. Never once did they get upset by the noise. Wait. That makes me wonder if they have undiagnosed hearing problems. I can’t even begin to recollect how many times a day I try to get their attention only to be ignored and told “I didn’t hear you”. Maybe they really can’t hear me. Addison was so unmoved by the noise that promptly at 8:30, her bed time, she snuggled in and fell fast asleep. Let me remind you that we were only 30 feet from the fence. OK. No more bedtime excuses with needing to keep quiet or Addi won’t fall asleep. Her cover has been officially blown. I now know that the kid can sleep through anything.
The evening was a blast, brought back some fun memories and created some new ones. All we can say is look out Indianapolis 500. Here come the Jennings! We are officially racing fans.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
She is what she is
Many of our friends and family didn’t get a chance to see our new dwelling before we left home. Later I realized how some of them were a little disappointed by that. So this entry is for you!
I guess I see their point. It is kinda like getting a new house or car. Everybody wants to be encouraging and excited for the other when something big like home ownership happens. Here’s the thing. Jeramie and I have lived in 9 different houses since we got married 8 years ago. The motorhome is just another “house” we have moved into. It is unique, in that this house has wheels and it is the smallest house we have ever been in. Oh, and it is deserving of a name. It’s deserving of a name because this house has some stories to tell. We haven’t found the right name that fits quite yet, so feel free to comment for voting.
How it began….
Jeramie and I had been praying for direction for our family, vocation, location, etc. We had been exploring all sorts of avenues and none of them were right. We have had a tremendous amount of spiritual growth this last year and Jeramie and my paths finally merged into the same direction. It has only taken eight years (nine altogether) but hey, what can I say. Some of us are stubborn and slow learners. Or maybe we are not very good listeners. Or maybe it's because I am such a good teacher that I have spent so much time making sure my husband has been learning his lessons that I ignored mine. Or quite probably it is all the above.
My husband is an independent soul. An adventurer. He would have easily been a pioneer had he been born 150 years ago. Ever seen “Far and Away”? That’s Jeramie, the role played by Tom Cruise. I am a bit, how should we say this…different than Jeramie. I have always envisioned myself with our place that we raise our kids our entire lives, where we have our “thing” that we do and a job that provides and that he loves. Vacations would be to some hotel in a tropical location with five star restaurants and things to do that do not require much energy exertion or getting dirty, preferably pedicures. Consistency, stability, security. This year I became convicted. I didn’t marry consistency, stability and security in the sense of lifestyle. I married energy, excitement , and exploration. I knew that when I met him. It is one of the things I actually love about him. My interpretation for consistency, stability and security gets in the way of who my husband is and most importantly, God’s plan for him. My prayer was answered. Like the flying orange that hit Jeramie in the head one night. I need to let go, put faith in my husband and ultimately faith in God. FEMA, here we come!
Fast forward. If we are going to do this full-time we need a proper set-up. We researched pick-ups and fifth wheels, class C’s (briefly), and class A’s. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and if something should go wrong with the rig, we still have access to our “house”. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and our kids are strapped in to the back seat indefinitely. No, thank you. Too much energy in a tight space. Not enough Dutch Bros. on this side of the mountains to handle that kind of chaos. They don’t make class C’s big enough for a family of 6 (5 people and a dog). That immediately eliminates that. O.K. class A it is. The ones they call “the coach”. We had a budget. It was a sad budget. Mr. Excitement is Mr. Conservative when it comes to money. We will not be financing anything. Unless it is a house without wheels on land, we pay cash for everything. Our very first motorhome to look at was a 1987 34’ Fleetwood Pacearrow. Boy was it sexy. Dusty Rose interior. No slides. It was a learning opportunity. One thing we walked away with is that the pictures lie. We were reminded of this time and time again. Oh, so do salesmen at RV dealerships. “We have the perfect RV for what you’re looking for with a very reasonable sales price! It’s on our other lot. I will call over there and let them know you are coming”. We were shown a newer 22’ Fleetwood Southwind with no slides. Yes, we had everyone but the dog in tow. We have got to look like a young, dumb family because for them to see us all, actually in the flesh and think we were delusional enough to entertain the thought of us living in a 22’ space could only be explained by us appearing to be young and dumb. Excuse me sir, we are Mr. and Ms. JENNINGS, not Mr. and Ms. El' stupido. They don’t like it when you have cash either. Again, a learning experience. We had been praying for the right equipment to move forward on this venture and if God has us doing this then he has the provisions it takes to accomplish it as well. Our coach was out there…somewhere.
Somewhere was Happy Valley, outside of Portland. By now we know our stuff. By now we know what our needs are and what would be “nice to have”. By now Jeramie was already working in Tennessee. This was all me. I interviewed the owner extensively and made an appointment to travel the distance to see it. I spent the day before working up a check-off list much like a vehicle window sticker with base price and how much each extra would add to the total price. I also had a depreciation formula to calculate what I would be willing to pay. I pulled up to a ¼ acre grassy lot totally out of place inside the business district of town. It was suppose to be some sort of RV storage. It was someones property overgrown with blackberry bushes, grass and untrimmed trees capitalizing on the unused space. Oh, there it is. Back there. In the bushes. Under the trees. I got out of the car and as the owner was walking across the lot to meet me he stopped mid-step and asked “do you work for an RV dealership? I already spoke with someone. I am not interested in trading it”. “WHAT! Where in the world did you get that impression?” “You have a clip board” “oh, this? No, no, no, I am just very thorough and I know what we are looking for so it will help to keep me from wasting your time” The owner was kind enough to start it up and pull it out of the ditch so that I could see it in the sun. Well, I guess it runs. Check.
We ended up with a 1997 37’ Fleetwood Bounder. You know the ones. With the big kangaroo bounding across the side of it. It has a slide in the living space/master suite. I cannot imagine living in anything smaller but I would if we had to. We ended up gutting it and restoring it with a new floor plan. It is humongous. It is pretty ugly too. Kinda a cream color with blue and yellow stripes on the side. It is LOUD. I thought the class A would be great for meeting the kids needs (or get after them) while driving down the road but 90% of the time I can’t even hear them yelling at me. Sometimes I will turn around to check on them and there is a mangled mess of feet and arms on the floor but no one is crying so I can’t tell if someone is getting pile-drived or if they fell off of the couch. Other times I will check on them and they are all entwined together like puppies, sound asleep sharing one gigantic puddle of drool. Still glad we got the class A. It works really hard to pull hills at around 45 miles per hour but it always reaches the top. It is so heavy that when you finally do, you hope you don’t burn up the breaks trying to slow it down while sailing over the other side. We have finally learned to let it go because we need the momentum to get up the next hill. It is so big that driving it while the wind is blowing feels like we are navigating a sail boat. We always love when we meet a semi coming from the opposite direction in a construction zone where they have narrowed the lanes and reduced them down to two lanes going opposite directions (instead of keeping one direction on their side of the interstate and us on our side) while maintaining a “limited construction zone speed of 65 mph that will prosecute violators with 14 years in prison and a $10,000 fine”. Geez, who needs coffee with that kind of adrenaline pumping? If anything, we need a good smoke to calm us down. It meets all of our needs and after our modifications it even has some of our wants, like Jeramie's 37” flat panel TV and PS3 that have been nicely mounted at the perfect angle in coordination with his specific spot on the couch. I don’t watch much TV so that was hard for me to understand but you know what? He works hard and doesn’t really ask for much so, whatever.
This motorhome has become “home”. It doesn’t matter where it is parked. The kids refer to it specifically as “home”. It is not unlike any other home. It requires some occasional attention which in this case Jeramie lovingly refers to as “deferred maintenance”. Things that should have been taken care of by previous owners but never where. We joke that it needs a good wax job. Some of the RV resorts we have been to are inhabited by retired men who spend their day waxing the sides of their coaches. Whenever Jeramie starts complaining about needing something to do, I tease him about the coach needing a good cleaning and waxing. Seriously, there is not a professional RV detailer that could help this beast. The retired men are always parked on the “good side” of the resort. We are officially victims of racism. There is a policy many resorts/parks hold that if your motorhome or trailer is more than 10 years old it may not even be accepted into the park. If they make the exception, they park you way out back so that you can’t be an unsightly embarrassment to them. Guess what? FINE WITH US! Hee, Hee, Hee, no hurt feelings here that our coach doesn’t fit their standards. It has been the saving tool that has continually blessed us with the end slips that house us closest to or exactly beside the most spacious areas that allow me to kick the kids outside to burn off the energy. God knows what he is doing. She is what she is, she may be ugly, but she’s ours!
I guess I see their point. It is kinda like getting a new house or car. Everybody wants to be encouraging and excited for the other when something big like home ownership happens. Here’s the thing. Jeramie and I have lived in 9 different houses since we got married 8 years ago. The motorhome is just another “house” we have moved into. It is unique, in that this house has wheels and it is the smallest house we have ever been in. Oh, and it is deserving of a name. It’s deserving of a name because this house has some stories to tell. We haven’t found the right name that fits quite yet, so feel free to comment for voting.
How it began….
Jeramie and I had been praying for direction for our family, vocation, location, etc. We had been exploring all sorts of avenues and none of them were right. We have had a tremendous amount of spiritual growth this last year and Jeramie and my paths finally merged into the same direction. It has only taken eight years (nine altogether) but hey, what can I say. Some of us are stubborn and slow learners. Or maybe we are not very good listeners. Or maybe it's because I am such a good teacher that I have spent so much time making sure my husband has been learning his lessons that I ignored mine. Or quite probably it is all the above.
My husband is an independent soul. An adventurer. He would have easily been a pioneer had he been born 150 years ago. Ever seen “Far and Away”? That’s Jeramie, the role played by Tom Cruise. I am a bit, how should we say this…different than Jeramie. I have always envisioned myself with our place that we raise our kids our entire lives, where we have our “thing” that we do and a job that provides and that he loves. Vacations would be to some hotel in a tropical location with five star restaurants and things to do that do not require much energy exertion or getting dirty, preferably pedicures. Consistency, stability, security. This year I became convicted. I didn’t marry consistency, stability and security in the sense of lifestyle. I married energy, excitement , and exploration. I knew that when I met him. It is one of the things I actually love about him. My interpretation for consistency, stability and security gets in the way of who my husband is and most importantly, God’s plan for him. My prayer was answered. Like the flying orange that hit Jeramie in the head one night. I need to let go, put faith in my husband and ultimately faith in God. FEMA, here we come!
Fast forward. If we are going to do this full-time we need a proper set-up. We researched pick-ups and fifth wheels, class C’s (briefly), and class A’s. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and if something should go wrong with the rig, we still have access to our “house”. Get a pick-up and 5th wheel and our kids are strapped in to the back seat indefinitely. No, thank you. Too much energy in a tight space. Not enough Dutch Bros. on this side of the mountains to handle that kind of chaos. They don’t make class C’s big enough for a family of 6 (5 people and a dog). That immediately eliminates that. O.K. class A it is. The ones they call “the coach”. We had a budget. It was a sad budget. Mr. Excitement is Mr. Conservative when it comes to money. We will not be financing anything. Unless it is a house without wheels on land, we pay cash for everything. Our very first motorhome to look at was a 1987 34’ Fleetwood Pacearrow. Boy was it sexy. Dusty Rose interior. No slides. It was a learning opportunity. One thing we walked away with is that the pictures lie. We were reminded of this time and time again. Oh, so do salesmen at RV dealerships. “We have the perfect RV for what you’re looking for with a very reasonable sales price! It’s on our other lot. I will call over there and let them know you are coming”. We were shown a newer 22’ Fleetwood Southwind with no slides. Yes, we had everyone but the dog in tow. We have got to look like a young, dumb family because for them to see us all, actually in the flesh and think we were delusional enough to entertain the thought of us living in a 22’ space could only be explained by us appearing to be young and dumb. Excuse me sir, we are Mr. and Ms. JENNINGS, not Mr. and Ms. El' stupido. They don’t like it when you have cash either. Again, a learning experience. We had been praying for the right equipment to move forward on this venture and if God has us doing this then he has the provisions it takes to accomplish it as well. Our coach was out there…somewhere.
Somewhere was Happy Valley, outside of Portland. By now we know our stuff. By now we know what our needs are and what would be “nice to have”. By now Jeramie was already working in Tennessee. This was all me. I interviewed the owner extensively and made an appointment to travel the distance to see it. I spent the day before working up a check-off list much like a vehicle window sticker with base price and how much each extra would add to the total price. I also had a depreciation formula to calculate what I would be willing to pay. I pulled up to a ¼ acre grassy lot totally out of place inside the business district of town. It was suppose to be some sort of RV storage. It was someones property overgrown with blackberry bushes, grass and untrimmed trees capitalizing on the unused space. Oh, there it is. Back there. In the bushes. Under the trees. I got out of the car and as the owner was walking across the lot to meet me he stopped mid-step and asked “do you work for an RV dealership? I already spoke with someone. I am not interested in trading it”. “WHAT! Where in the world did you get that impression?” “You have a clip board” “oh, this? No, no, no, I am just very thorough and I know what we are looking for so it will help to keep me from wasting your time” The owner was kind enough to start it up and pull it out of the ditch so that I could see it in the sun. Well, I guess it runs. Check.
We ended up with a 1997 37’ Fleetwood Bounder. You know the ones. With the big kangaroo bounding across the side of it. It has a slide in the living space/master suite. I cannot imagine living in anything smaller but I would if we had to. We ended up gutting it and restoring it with a new floor plan. It is humongous. It is pretty ugly too. Kinda a cream color with blue and yellow stripes on the side. It is LOUD. I thought the class A would be great for meeting the kids needs (or get after them) while driving down the road but 90% of the time I can’t even hear them yelling at me. Sometimes I will turn around to check on them and there is a mangled mess of feet and arms on the floor but no one is crying so I can’t tell if someone is getting pile-drived or if they fell off of the couch. Other times I will check on them and they are all entwined together like puppies, sound asleep sharing one gigantic puddle of drool. Still glad we got the class A. It works really hard to pull hills at around 45 miles per hour but it always reaches the top. It is so heavy that when you finally do, you hope you don’t burn up the breaks trying to slow it down while sailing over the other side. We have finally learned to let it go because we need the momentum to get up the next hill. It is so big that driving it while the wind is blowing feels like we are navigating a sail boat. We always love when we meet a semi coming from the opposite direction in a construction zone where they have narrowed the lanes and reduced them down to two lanes going opposite directions (instead of keeping one direction on their side of the interstate and us on our side) while maintaining a “limited construction zone speed of 65 mph that will prosecute violators with 14 years in prison and a $10,000 fine”. Geez, who needs coffee with that kind of adrenaline pumping? If anything, we need a good smoke to calm us down. It meets all of our needs and after our modifications it even has some of our wants, like Jeramie's 37” flat panel TV and PS3 that have been nicely mounted at the perfect angle in coordination with his specific spot on the couch. I don’t watch much TV so that was hard for me to understand but you know what? He works hard and doesn’t really ask for much so, whatever.
This motorhome has become “home”. It doesn’t matter where it is parked. The kids refer to it specifically as “home”. It is not unlike any other home. It requires some occasional attention which in this case Jeramie lovingly refers to as “deferred maintenance”. Things that should have been taken care of by previous owners but never where. We joke that it needs a good wax job. Some of the RV resorts we have been to are inhabited by retired men who spend their day waxing the sides of their coaches. Whenever Jeramie starts complaining about needing something to do, I tease him about the coach needing a good cleaning and waxing. Seriously, there is not a professional RV detailer that could help this beast. The retired men are always parked on the “good side” of the resort. We are officially victims of racism. There is a policy many resorts/parks hold that if your motorhome or trailer is more than 10 years old it may not even be accepted into the park. If they make the exception, they park you way out back so that you can’t be an unsightly embarrassment to them. Guess what? FINE WITH US! Hee, Hee, Hee, no hurt feelings here that our coach doesn’t fit their standards. It has been the saving tool that has continually blessed us with the end slips that house us closest to or exactly beside the most spacious areas that allow me to kick the kids outside to burn off the energy. God knows what he is doing. She is what she is, she may be ugly, but she’s ours!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Protection in the storm
Wow. It has been awhile since I have had a chance to record these thoughts of mine that I almost didn't remember my login and password for this page. Now that we are getting a new routine established in this crazy life of ours I finally feel like I have a few minutes to update this (though I really don't have the time, if I don't take it I will never get back to the blog).
We finally got to help my sister get married off. It was the most fun day. The perma-smiles on her and her new husbands faces were contagious and it was so much fun to be a part of the celebration that perfectly represented their personalities. I was however running on energy provided by the Holy Spirit because in reality, I was down right exhausted. All went as it was suppose to and that made them happy.
Jeramie became deployed 36 hours before the wedding so immediate re-adjustment of our plans was needed. We spent about an hour disagreeing on what the best plan B was before God finally had enough and intervened. Jeramie and the dog ended up driving the motorhome to Chicago and the kids and I stayed behind until after the wedding. I took a day to recover and then we drove 2/3's of the way cross country to meet him. It was amazing and there were many small moments of divine protection along the way. Things like hotel suite upgrades for the economy price to a tire that had to be filled with the Holy Spirit himself because under no other circumstances could it hold any air. Driving cross country, a mom and her three kids, seems like a big deal. Many people make it out to be a big deal. But it wasn't a big deal. It could've been a big deal but it wasn't a big deal because it was blessed by God.
Illinois has been a cool place to hang. After 2000 miles of less than exciting scenery we were excited to end up in Northern Illinois where there is grass and trees that cover the biggest roller-coaster like hills. The humidity has taken some getting use to. There are days I wonder why I even try to take a shower but quickly remember that this place is TOO small for anything odiferous and although I don't smell me doesn't mean someone else can't smell me. We visited a cool little historic town called Galena. We got to see the historical museum of President U.S. Grants home where he resided in between the war and his term in office. This is the kind of history I can learn, tangible. I retained nothing in school of US history. It wasn't real. This learning is hands on, you can touch it and envision what played out. We all remembered something different, but President Grant's military service and his silk green chair that he took everywhere with him resonated most with Andon. I love that. The green chair. Andon will forever remember that President Grant had a favorite green chair. You cannot teach that in a book in some stuffy classroom. There was a day where Jeramie had a light day scheduled so we tagged along. We were headed to some cool park in Freeport that the KOA owner directed us to. We had to get the inspections done first. This was a day of enlightenment. My exposure to the hood or projects has been limited to what Hollywood protrays for us. I have never gotten why people who live there choose to live there. I have always written it off as it is what they know and people are scared of what they don't know. Today I know different. In Oregon our state services provide housing funds. You are issued a check for rent and as long as the landlord meets state housing requirements, you can live pretty much where you want. The projects are government owned apartments. You get assigned an apartment and they own the building. If you are dependent on the government you don't get choices. You get what they give you. Many of you may already know that, I did not. Another inspection brought us to a terribly run down neighborhood with houses so delapitated it is a wonder how they didn't collapse under the flooding in the first place. The primary ethnicity in this section is african-american. Cops out on many corners trying to keep a peace with people who have nothing better to do than get into trouble. It took a bit of a detour to get back to the "safe" side of town because we kept avoiding streets with cop cars on them. Not a safe place for a young white family after dark. I was more shocked to see that there was an obvious "bad" side of town in a city that has a population of only 26,000. My ignorance is being exposed.
After a long weekend up north, we were relocated to central east Illinois, about an hour south of Chicago. Down here it is flat. Like a gigantic Willamette Valley that doesn't end. The flat land being so close to the great lakes mixes up the perfect recipe for some intense thunder and lightening rainstorms. Jeramie was driving in it in the dark. We could see flashes of lightening that made me think of the de-memorization pen on "Men in Black". Jeramie said the bolts are amazing. Multiple fingers all attached across the entire panoramic darkness. Veins of lightening all feeding off of each other from one side of the sky to the other. The kids and I were "home" by ourselves when we lived through our first mid-western rainstorm. It was loud only to be amplified more so by the shelter of the motorhome. It poured walls of water. It was alarming and at times scary. It was magnificent! Andon was the most upset. That storm spoke to him. We were singing "Jesus Loves Me" when he asked if he could have Jesus in his heart. I prayed for him with him and then he prayed himself. I asked him why he wanted Jesus in his heart right then that very moment "because Jesus is my protector, he makes me feel safe". I have since been brought to my knees, humbled that a 6 year old can get that. We talked about how scary the storm was and if God could make a storm so scary that we couldn't even imagine how scary Hell is. If the only reason we are on this journey was to experience this storm so that it will forever be written on my sons heart then it is worth every sacrifice, although, I will say, we are having a pretty good time!
Hebrews 10:16
"This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds"
We finally got to help my sister get married off. It was the most fun day. The perma-smiles on her and her new husbands faces were contagious and it was so much fun to be a part of the celebration that perfectly represented their personalities. I was however running on energy provided by the Holy Spirit because in reality, I was down right exhausted. All went as it was suppose to and that made them happy.
Jeramie became deployed 36 hours before the wedding so immediate re-adjustment of our plans was needed. We spent about an hour disagreeing on what the best plan B was before God finally had enough and intervened. Jeramie and the dog ended up driving the motorhome to Chicago and the kids and I stayed behind until after the wedding. I took a day to recover and then we drove 2/3's of the way cross country to meet him. It was amazing and there were many small moments of divine protection along the way. Things like hotel suite upgrades for the economy price to a tire that had to be filled with the Holy Spirit himself because under no other circumstances could it hold any air. Driving cross country, a mom and her three kids, seems like a big deal. Many people make it out to be a big deal. But it wasn't a big deal. It could've been a big deal but it wasn't a big deal because it was blessed by God.
Illinois has been a cool place to hang. After 2000 miles of less than exciting scenery we were excited to end up in Northern Illinois where there is grass and trees that cover the biggest roller-coaster like hills. The humidity has taken some getting use to. There are days I wonder why I even try to take a shower but quickly remember that this place is TOO small for anything odiferous and although I don't smell me doesn't mean someone else can't smell me. We visited a cool little historic town called Galena. We got to see the historical museum of President U.S. Grants home where he resided in between the war and his term in office. This is the kind of history I can learn, tangible. I retained nothing in school of US history. It wasn't real. This learning is hands on, you can touch it and envision what played out. We all remembered something different, but President Grant's military service and his silk green chair that he took everywhere with him resonated most with Andon. I love that. The green chair. Andon will forever remember that President Grant had a favorite green chair. You cannot teach that in a book in some stuffy classroom. There was a day where Jeramie had a light day scheduled so we tagged along. We were headed to some cool park in Freeport that the KOA owner directed us to. We had to get the inspections done first. This was a day of enlightenment. My exposure to the hood or projects has been limited to what Hollywood protrays for us. I have never gotten why people who live there choose to live there. I have always written it off as it is what they know and people are scared of what they don't know. Today I know different. In Oregon our state services provide housing funds. You are issued a check for rent and as long as the landlord meets state housing requirements, you can live pretty much where you want. The projects are government owned apartments. You get assigned an apartment and they own the building. If you are dependent on the government you don't get choices. You get what they give you. Many of you may already know that, I did not. Another inspection brought us to a terribly run down neighborhood with houses so delapitated it is a wonder how they didn't collapse under the flooding in the first place. The primary ethnicity in this section is african-american. Cops out on many corners trying to keep a peace with people who have nothing better to do than get into trouble. It took a bit of a detour to get back to the "safe" side of town because we kept avoiding streets with cop cars on them. Not a safe place for a young white family after dark. I was more shocked to see that there was an obvious "bad" side of town in a city that has a population of only 26,000. My ignorance is being exposed.
After a long weekend up north, we were relocated to central east Illinois, about an hour south of Chicago. Down here it is flat. Like a gigantic Willamette Valley that doesn't end. The flat land being so close to the great lakes mixes up the perfect recipe for some intense thunder and lightening rainstorms. Jeramie was driving in it in the dark. We could see flashes of lightening that made me think of the de-memorization pen on "Men in Black". Jeramie said the bolts are amazing. Multiple fingers all attached across the entire panoramic darkness. Veins of lightening all feeding off of each other from one side of the sky to the other. The kids and I were "home" by ourselves when we lived through our first mid-western rainstorm. It was loud only to be amplified more so by the shelter of the motorhome. It poured walls of water. It was alarming and at times scary. It was magnificent! Andon was the most upset. That storm spoke to him. We were singing "Jesus Loves Me" when he asked if he could have Jesus in his heart. I prayed for him with him and then he prayed himself. I asked him why he wanted Jesus in his heart right then that very moment "because Jesus is my protector, he makes me feel safe". I have since been brought to my knees, humbled that a 6 year old can get that. We talked about how scary the storm was and if God could make a storm so scary that we couldn't even imagine how scary Hell is. If the only reason we are on this journey was to experience this storm so that it will forever be written on my sons heart then it is worth every sacrifice, although, I will say, we are having a pretty good time!
Hebrews 10:16
"This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds"
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