Oh, my sweet blog. I’ve neglected you. Somewhat purposely. I’m now seeing blades of grass in puddles of melted snow. And I’m now living in Wisconsin.

I’ve finished three afghans since I last wrote here and am working steadily on another. (And another is packed in boxes that were meant to ship to France last week.)

In the last month, we’ve moved twice, said goodbyes, and found out that our visas were denied the first time we applied. We were all prepared to leave four days after we got the notice. One of the homes we lived in didn’t have Internet, which was actually quite lovely.

(Insert scratching on record noise.) “What?” you ask, perspiring a little.

You see, when I spend too much time on the internet, I get a false notion that I can actually control some element of the future, or that I can solve some of the things I fear (or at least predict them!) I have been reminded over and over again in the last month that I really actually have no control. I had no control over our visas. I have no control over where we’ll end up living. I had no control over my little girl’s lungs when she had a freak respiratory event and couldn’t breathe. The internet is a lovely tool and a means for connection (and I still use it!), but I’ve come to realize that I need to limit my use of it. Hence my neglected blog.

My other conundrum with this blog is that each blog I’ve had has had a very defined purpose and season of life. College blog. Adoption blog. Blog where I was seeking joy in the small things right after adoption. This blog was born when we became “urban farmers” five years ago, bringing chickens, strawberries, a small vineyard, and fruit trees into a very small yard. The name of this blog came when an old friend heard that we had moved more agrarian in our pursuits, and when he heard about our chickens, he quipped “Oh, so you’re those kinds of people, now, are you?”

But, well, we haven’t gardened for three springs, not for lack of desire. What I would give to garden and have property of my own right now!

(There are a lot of paragraphs I wanted to type right there, but I’m leaving those between myself and my Maker.)

In any case, we’re not the people we were five years ago. We’re bruised, battered, and scraped to the bottom of the barrel in some areas. I was telling Michael a few weeks ago that when I was in college and would sing “Take my Life and Let it Be,” I never expected it to be THIS literal.

But, there is growth, flourishing, and healing in areas that are too painful to write about publicly.

In any case, I’m floundering here. I process things by writing, but my identity feels off-kilter. (If you’ve done any studying about enneagrams, my enneagram 4 is coming out BIG time in this post, isn’t it?)

On a practical, not self-absorbed note, we have managed to get quite a bit of school accomplished in the last four weeks, despite not having much of our actual “school” paraphernalia readily available. The big boys have really handled the changes well. The only one that is hard to convert to portable mode is our mathematics, which uses a lot of manipulatives.

I’m so proud of how the kids have adapted and stretched to our various challenges. They do long for a home. Most of them express it every day to me. I think there is such a spiritual lesson for me, as I watch my kids longing for a place to call home, reminding me that my home is not here. My longing shouldn’t be for comfort, convenience, pleasure. My longing should be for my true home. My children are such beautiful treasures, and it is so humbling to be their mother.

Now because I’ve not blogged in over a month, I feel a bit entitled to a picture binge. Bear with me, graciously.

And by all means, please comment or message me on facebook. I’d love to hear from you, what you’re going through, if you ever struggle as your identity changes with the events in life that God has handed you, or even about what you’re beginning to garden. Some of my most favorite photos (aside from photos of kids reading and photos of my nieces and nephews) are the photos of new growth in spring time, so please bombard me with your garden plans. πŸ™‚

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