Strategizing

I always used to joke that our family is a force of nature. Kind of feels more true than ever these days. Every place we leave on our 'goodbye tour' to Guatemala is left in despair and ruin. Oh, yes - there is much crying, and gnashing of teeth.

(Ok - that might be a bit of an exaggeration.) Still... goodbyes are hard.

It's strange - 200 years ago families set off into the unknown, across endless oceans or prairies, likely to never see or hear from their loved ones again, and I'm not sure that they blubbered and bawled half as much I have in the past few days. And they didn't even have Facebook!

I've been working on my exit strategy (since we're going to be doing this several more times.) It goes something like this:

• Grin broadly and confidently as I announce, "Ok, everyone - it's probably time to go now." 
• Bite my lip and compel my tear ducts to contract using the sheer force of my will. (Duct tape or superglue might be required in future.) 
• Use ninja-like mind power to slow time, in order to soak up every nuance and impression of the goodbye hugs.
• Get into the car, grinning and waving wildly as I watch my loved ones get smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror.
• Break down and sob uncontrollably until I can regain my composure, and/or I run out of tissues. (Hopefully this happens before we arrive to the next location.) 
• Repeat.

It's like ripping off a band-aid over, and over, and over, and over again, only in this case it hurts the ripper and the rippee (so to speak).

<sigh> I don't know if my strategy is a good one or not. I can only pray that those we leave behind know that our stoicism is hard-fought, and not a result of indifference. (Oh, Lord - please let them know!)

And, though I'm not looking forward to any more goodbyes, I am looking forward to the work that the Lord has called us to. So, until someone invents a way to go into somewhere new without having to leave where they are, I guess I'll have to stay the course and stick to my strategy. (Now, where can I get some duct tape?)

Waiting Games

I have a new game I've started playing in this funny, interim time frame while we're waiting to leave. I call it, "Will It Last?" It goes like this...

I like to have a glass of iced green tea most days. This is what the box has left. Will it last!?

This is the toilet paper left in the downstairs bathroom. Will it last?

This is how much coffee I have left in the cannister. Will it last?

It's a fun game, and I'm finding more and more opportunities to play it with each passing day. :)

Taking Stock

So, here's something I hadn't thought about before - the freezer in our basement. You know, it's just been down there quietly humming away since we moved it in two years ago, keeping all of our 'extra' stuff nice and cold for us. 

The problem is, we don't need any 'extra' stuff anymore. In fact, soon we're not going to need any stuff at all. At least, not any food.

That's a strange feeling. 

Usually when you move you just unload the cupboards, fridge and freezer into boxes, take them to the new place, and put them away there. (Ditto laundray stuff, cleaners, the things in your medicine cabinet, etc.. But, I digress.) 

Just to be sure that I wasn't going to be wasting food and/or wasting money, I decided to take an inventory of what we have left for food in the house, and do menus to ensure that we use it all up.

Turns out, I've got all of my suppers planned from now until the day we leave. (I guess I had more food on hand than I realized!) 

Don't get me wrong - we'll still have to do some shopping for side dishes, snacks, and perishables. But, we're bound to save a lot of money on groceries (especially since I won't be stocking up on the things on sale, like I usually do). And - we're going to eat like kings! That turkey I was saving for a special occasion? It's supper next Tuesday night. The giant pork roast I figured I'd use for a family dinner? It'll taste great the Monday after next, and the leftovers will be the perfect pairing for that bag of dried black beans I found in the back of the cupboard. 

Oh, and did I mention that I had lots of steaks left that I intended to last us a whole grilling season? Yummm!

The only things I wasn't able to figure out how to use up were a whole bottle of Karo syrup (?), the dill and mustard seed I'd bought to make pickles this summer, and a couple of boxes of hot cocoa mix. Wonder how they'd all taste together as a barbeque sauce to go on all that delicious meat. Hmm.... 

Six Weeks

Exactly six weeks from today we will close the door on this house for the last time, and venture off into the unknown.

(Ok technically we'll venture off in a Jeep Liberty on a three-week journey to familiar places visiting family and friends. But, THEN we'll be in the unknown.)

Some days it feels like six weeks is forever, and it's hard not to wish the time away since we're so excited to get to Guatemala. Some days, though, six weeks feels like no time at all, and I can hardly stand how quickly it's all happening. 

This in-between time is strange. And, honestly, a little hard. 

I mean - I know I need to clean out my kitchen cupboards and get rid of, well, everything. But, when should I do that? Ditto the bathroom vanity. And the blanket chest in the living room. And, and, and...

We've done a ton of sorting in the past six months, and really have narrowed things down significantly. Our motto during that time was, "If I won't use it between now and when we leave, and/or I'm not taking taking it with me, I'm getting rid of it."

The trouble is, I don't really have a sense of what we'll use in the next six weeks. (Or even exactly what we'll have room to take with us.) Yes, technically we can go without most of the things now. But, do we want to feel like we're camping in our own home for the next 42 days when we don't have to?

Of course, I also don't want to wait until the last  minute and be scrambling to re-home a whole bunch of stuff on the last day that we're here, when we're packing up and dealing with the dozens of last-minute things that are sure to pop up.

<sigh> It's a bit of a circular problem, I guess, but I know God will continue to guide us day by day and help us make these decisions wisely. 

So, here's to six weeks left - a strange milestone, but a good one nonetheless.

And So It Begins...

Sheesh.... why does everybody have to be so gosh-darned nice!!??

We are now at the point where we're starting to have to say goodbyes to people. As in - we may not see these folks again for a year. Or two years. Or, maybe not again until we meet in eternity.

This is hard stuff, made even more difficult by just how wonderful the people we are leaving behind happen to be.

Today our younger two girls went off to a home school gathering that was kind of a bonus, if you will, since it was previously unscheduled. Our oldest daughter decided to stay home so she could finish some school work she'd gotten behind on.

I guess she didn't realize this would be one of those poignant 'lasts.'
(I didn't either.)

They're really starting to sneak up on us now...

It turns out that the teacher in the program and all of the students had made beautiful cards. And said nice things. And passed out hugs.

And Rachel missed them. :(

So, now, I'm sitting on my bed, crying on her behalf.

To be honest, there are a whole lot of conflicting feelings that pop up when you're this close to leaving for the mission field. But, it doesn't always feel like it's ok to express them. I mean, we don't want people to think we're wavering in our dediction or suddenly feeling unsure of our calling, because we're not. But, at the same time, we're still human. We still have insecurities, doubts, and fears, just like everyone else.

And, leaving people you love - even if it's for the best possible reasons in the world - will always be hard to do.

There is a part of me that wants to throw the brakes on and try to stop this whole process right now. Who gives up great jobs? A great home? A great church? A great future? Who gives up family gatherings and Christmas with the grandparents and giggly friendships? What kind of parents drag their kids away from everything familiar, and known, and comfortable?

Those thoughts do cross my mind. And, even though I know they are from the accuser, and not from God, they're there. I don't want anyone to think that we're not 100% sure about our calling, but I also wouldn't want anyone to think that it's always easy to walk it out, either.

'Cause it's not.

So, if you all would just stop being so gosh-darned nice so that it would be less difficult to leave, I'd really appreciate it.

(Ok, maybe not. Thanks for being so wonderful, and so kind, and such an important part of our lives!)

Triplewarmth

What do you call all the best things in life crammed into one, forty-eight hour time period?

A weekend with family, of course.

Fall is my favorite season, and there's almost no better place to enjoy it than in the timber. This weekend we donned our coats, work gloves, and boots. After making the difficult decision of whether to hop onto the tailgate of my sister's pickup truck, or to ride in the back of my dad's homemade trailer, we headed off across the pasture to the woods.

We climbed over barbed wire fences. Competed to see who could throw black walnuts the farthest. Practiced our sword fighting with sticks and twigs. Looked at cool fungus. Admired the beautiful colors of fall. Caught a very cold toad.

Oh yeah - we also hauled wood. Did I mention that's what brought us to the timber?

There's an old expression - he who cuts his own wood is twice warmed. This weekend we got to snuggle together near the warmth of the fire in the wood stove, to feel the warmth from within and from the fall sunshine overhead while hauling logs out of the timber, AND to enjoy the warmth of being with a family that loves each other very much.

Triplewarmth - it's a very good thing.

These are the times I know my heart will long for once we're in Guatemala. However, I already find myself longing for Xela, too. It is amazing how God can make a place feel like home before you've ever even lived there.


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Going Out With a Bang

 

We had a blast this past weekend... literally. But, I'll get to that part in a minute.

Mark was able to take a day off on Friday, so we all packed into the Jeep Thursday night (good practice for when we make the long drive to Guatemala) and drove the 4 or so hours to his childhood home.

These things are becoming increasingly bittersweet.

We ate. We talked. We ate. We played cards. We ate some more. You know the drill - just a regular weekend together with family. We did our best to soak it all up - the beautiful autumn colors, the smiles, the playful teasing. (They won one hand of canasta, and we won the other, for those of you who are curious.)

We know that God will put new friends into our lives once we get to Xela, but nothing can replace the deep and wonderful relationships we have with our families.

In this case, we're not the only ones feeling the impending changes that are just around the corner. Not only are we moving, but the senior Farriers (hah!) are also planning on moving next year - all the way to the Gulf Coast of Alabama.  I hate to get maudlin and sentimental, but these really are some of the last 'lasts' we'll ever have at the only home that Mark ever lived in as a child.

You know how they say that you can never really go home again? For him, that is especially true.

So, we reflected and celebrated all of the changes our extended family will soon face in the only way that we know how - by blowing stuff up.

My father-in-law has been a certified pyrotechnician for the last 20 years or so. We have also (at various times) been certified and helped out with fireworks shows. That, too, is something he and the rest of us are giving up. After the sale of the bunker, he still had a few odds and ends left over, which we used to truly 'have a blast' for the last time together. (At least, in that particular way. Don't worry - there are plenty more good times, meals, and card games ahead of us!) I must admit - it was a lot of fun getting gunpowder on my fingers and dropping shells into mortars again. I even got to use a fire extinguisher!

Seriously, people - if you're not cherishing your family time together, you really should be. Just some free advice, from someone who's come to realize just how true it is.

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Lasts...

A few days ago I bought what (I think) will end up being my last bottle of laundry detergent before we leave for Guatemala. (I buy in bulk.) At the time, it didn't really sink in. But, as I placed it on the shelf in my laundry room next to the other, half-empty bottle, the realization crept into my heart:

This will probably be the last bottle of detergent I will ever use in this house.

That thought has been growing ever since, like a tiny little seed.

This is a last. My first last, in a way. At least, the first one to pop onto my radar. There have been others, of course, but we didn't recognize them as such at the time, so there was no nibbling little pain involved. Then, we were just living life, you see. Now, we've started a countdown. We're on the clock, so to speak.

It's funny how it's only the awareness of the next thing looming that makes the everyday more significant, and the mundane more momentous.

This new awareness of the 'lasts' ahead makes me think of things differently. I snuggle my girls a little closer on our comfy couch during movie night. I savor the weekly date my husband and I have during his lunch hour a little bit more. I hug a little harder when my family and friends leave my house after an impromptu visit. I will not always have these types of things to enjoy.

It's hard not to let a sense of desperation sneak in, to be honest.

I want to savor the good stuff so much. It is so transient. So fragile. Yet, so life sustaining. I want to breathe it in, and breathe it in, and breathe it in again.

But, at some point, I must also exhale.

Biologically, I show that I have 100% faith in the air around me every time I take a breath in, let it out, and breathe in again. There is no sense of desperation. There is no need to hold on to the breath I have for fear of what the next one will hold. I know, that I know, that I know that the air will be there for me, and it will have what I need to sustain my life.

How much more so is that true of God and our spiritual breath of life?

So, I'm determining not to let these 'lasts' freak me out. (Remind me later that I said this. Will you?) God never takes us out of somewhere, except to lead us in to somewhere else. I am eternally grateful (so much so that it hurts) to my eternal father for all the good He has placed in my life to treasure and enjoy right now. But, I'm also grateful that it is because of the exciting new chance we've been given to serve our God, whose love is everlasting, that we will so many 'lasts' in the days to come.

Makes it all worth it, doesn't it?