A Chicken in the Window Well: Hard and Wonderful, Wonderful and Hard

I don't know that I can ever truly give an accurate picture of life in this little blog/journal of mine. Sometimes, when I read about my ancestors, I wonder about my own posterity: those in generations on down the line. It seems impossible that they truly will exist. And more impossible still that I will have shifted into the role of distant ancestor; a voice from the past with a life long lived out.

What would they know of me through all these words? I would wish to reach from the past and help them feel not alone in their trials. I would wish to, through my own life and struggles and hope, comfort and encourage them. (I loved Paul's words in our Come Follow Me study this week: "Blessed be ... the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the same comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted ..." That's what I would wish to do.)

But no matter how much I write, there's still so much worry and trouble that can only be expressed in prayer and quiet conversations. And so much that is not fully mine to share. And, even within the same small seasons of life--even within the same days--things can flip flop back and forth between much too hard and overwhelmingly glorious.

I'm in a bit of a season like that right now. It shocks me at times that such extremes of feeling can exist within me all within the same days and weeks. Life right now reminds me a bit of how I have always felt when a new baby has come into our home. Utterly overwhelmed and at times even depressed while also filled completely with some of the most miraculous awe and wonder and rejoicing life has to offer.

I feel in love with living here. I love our puny rental. I love my views. I adore sunsets and sunrises and the mists that hang so often both west and east in our mornings here. I love my kids. I feel so full of joy that I get to be here with them and enjoying these remaining years of small kids at home. I feel so lucky that Mike is mine and that he loves me so well and encourages me and takes care of us.

And this year! I can hardly believe it! It always amazes me how much can come into a year that you didn't expect as the year started. This entire business of packing up and moving--all it has entailed. I had no idea it was going to happen this year! And it was hard! But also I feel so grateful that we've made the leap and that a looming, near-impossible thing has actually happened, and we are another very large step closer to living on the farm. It feels miraculous.

But also I'd had no idea, at the start of this year, that Mike and I would spend three to four months virtually apart from one another. (We are in the middle of it now. With still nearly two months to go.) It reminds me a little of 2005 when Mike was in GA for five months. (Though I only had three kids then.)

We just didn't know, as this year began, that, between major work deadlines and major house projects, he would primarily still be down in Pleasant View while we took on life up here. And mostly I'm fine (and kick myself for complaining when I have ancestors whose husbands were gone, in the early church days, for years.) Still, it's occasionally quite heavy to be each accomplishing necessary things and filling necessary roles for our family ... apart from each other. And it seems strange to me every time I find myself saying something like, "kids! dad's coming up tonight!" like it's some novel thing to see their father. But ... it is right now. And sometimes ... I don't have the emotional energy in me to comfort an anxious child at 10 at night, or to determine how much to push verses just give space to a teenager, or to stop another squabble with no Mike there for back up or to spell me off.

But the other day, tired of the skinny roads and lack of hills in Young Ward, I took Starling out to Mendon and ran up around the cemetery and into the mountains a bit. (A bit ... I'm not running very far lately, and certainly not when pushing a stroller :)). I let her stop at the park after while I stretched on the grass, looked up at the sky through the leaves of several large shade trees, and called out occasional yes's to Starling: "Yes honey, you can climb that dirt hill! Good job!" "Yes honey, you can go through that tunnel! Just be careful!" I didn't feel any of that "there are a thousand things I should be doing!" guilt I often burden myself with. I just felt my soul praising God and rejoicing in my life and my opportunities and in every small thing: the quiet darling Mendon roads with hills for me to run on, Starling's disheveled hair, the cooler morning. And I do feel a lot of intense joy and gratitude during this tricky time of life. Maybe it's the newness of everything. I don't know. But in the middle of hard and discouraging, I seem to be more acutely aware of all the good things that I love about life right now. I mean the field across the street is being mowed as I type. It's a very long stretch of land, so only about every five minutes do I suddenly see and hear the large combine (mower? tractor? what is it?) smooth another straight row past my front window. And it feels like ... the cheeriest thing.

Anyway. A whole bunch of photos:

Technology! Isn't it amazing really that when Goldie gets to call on her Wednesday p-days, both Abe and Daisy, wherever they are on campus at BYU, can just tap right into the call as well? It just makes me so happy.

Bigfoot's mother (who left her two Bigfoot sons for Hans to play with when we first got here) left us a Halloween "toy" the other day. Here Summer is ... enjoying a snack with our new mer-pal.

If I find time to sit still on the couch for a decent stretch, now that the kids are back in school, Starling inevitably comes and falls asleep next to or on me. This little friend. She is so very attached to me. When the kids aren't here to play with, it's rare for her to be ever more than a few feet from me. And I can't leave anywhere without her. I'm not certain how this child will ever go to kindergarten. Still, I'm glad I can so fully be a security and safety for her. Nothing must ever happen to me until she is grown.

I found this picture on my phone. What brave and reckless Calico Critter babies. Where on earth is their mother?

But really! I don't know if these mists will be in College Ward! But they happen often lately. I love them. And it makes us laugh talking about cows in the mist. Also, every time I see it, my mind automatically sings, "some days the fog in Monterey comes drifting from the grove above" from this old Mary Black song.

On one of Mike's "visits" he brought the kids Halloween blankets. They were thrilled. I loved finding Starling like this in her bed the next morning.

This messy-haired boy. I will tell you this. He is a joy and a delight to me.

His picture of a slime monster sliming a city is also a joy and a delight. ...

There they are. The cows in the mist.

I wonder how many pictures of our front and backyard view I will have before we leave this place! I've never really taken pictures of scenes much before! But I can't stop! It seems like every morning someone will say, "Have you looked outside yet this morning?"

Calico Critters ready for Halloween. (So many of our toys got boxed up that certain toys are getting used much more frequently. We will likely retrieve more from the storage unit at some point.)

I like that my life is such now that I occasionally call Mike to say things like, "The gate at the barn is down. Also, is Rod's cow supposed to be on the side of the fence by the feeder?" I didn't know I would like that sort of thing. Just like I didn't know that someone going back and forth mowing a pasture across from my front room window would make me feel happy.

Starling's poker face. She would not respond to anything we said. Haha.

Speaking of faces. I sent this picture to Mike and the older kids asking if, without knowing their ages, just the expressions in this photo would give away who the two teenagers were.

This photo is so great. Abe texted it to all of us. Penny showed it to me before I'd seen the text, and I didn't know who it was for a minute! It was how he looked after his last day working for the tree-cutting guy who employed him this summer. For some reason they'd been doing some shingling that day.

This is the amount of elevation gain I get running in Young Ward! Hahah. I'm glad Mendon is only five minutes west. Sometimes a girl needs some hills for variety! (My ankle is still so iffy. I have been pleading for a year to be able to run without worrying I'm about to have it give out!)

I really am enjoying this little year of Starling with me in the day. It's so different from how my last two decades have been.

I like this little "vestibule" area of the rental so much. I mean it's still the first thing people see when they come over, but somehow, its being slightly separate from the main house makes it feel like boots and the like belong there in a way they can't belong when in an entryway. I've been trying to think if our house plan could possibly have an area like this. ...

More photos of the same scene. But this morning it wasn't just haze. It was thick thick fog! (See how you can't see a hint of mountains. Or cows for that matter.) Can you blame Hans for needing to run out to the trampoline when he should have been eating breakfast and getting ready for school?