From March of 2000 until September of 2004, our family lived in a green house, tucked in a small clearing in the forest about two miles up the Duckabush valley. Although our time there ended in difficulty and sorrow, I still remember being astonished almost every day that we were allowed to live in such a beautiful place.

Our little green house in the forest — there was a family staying there, so I had to take my picture rather stealthily, so as not to disturb them.

Personally, I really liked living there. Now we reside in the suburbs, but there is a part of my heart that still yearns to wake up each morning in the Duckabush. There is something about the tranquility of the valley that seeps into my soul — I feel like I can let my breath out … all the way out, and really be at peace.

Unlike Boston, we’ve had very little snow, this winter — Mt. Jupiter is bare in February! Very unusual.

That isn’t hard to imagine on a day like today. As occasionally happens in February, we’re experiencing a warm and sunny spell these days, and the whole valley was flooded with golden sunshine and blue skies, promising that Spring will come soon. (Of course, such days of promise are lying through their metaphorical teeth — Spring in Washington means rain, and lots of it.)

I never get tired of taking pictures of the gold leaf Refuge sign at the top of the driveway.

There was a Counselors in Training (CIT) meeting this afternoon at Wilderness Northwest (WNW) and I was the designated adult driver for the Lakewood contingent (we brought ten kids out in two cars). The meeting lasted for about three hours this afternoon, so I had some time to kill. Unfortunately, I neglected to tell my parents I would be coming, so they were away for most of the afternoon. I only got a few minutes to visit with them, which seemed rather ironic, after such a long drive.

The main lodge of the Refuge — locked, so all my pictures today are of the outside.

So I spent the hours being reflective. I reflected on how beautiful the Refuge is, and how much I miss living in the valley. I reflected on God’s goodness to me over the years, and how my eyes delight to soak in the gold and brown and blue and green of God’s creation. And I reflected on how I really should have brought a book with me, or at least a laptop.

The view from our road — such a pretty blue sky — what a treat, in February!

Being reflective is good for me. It gives me the time I need to shake all the thoughts in my head so that they fall down into their proper places, sort of like one of those toys for toddlers with progressive-diameter sieves, so that different sized pieces can sort themselves into discrete layers by size.

Like this toy, my brain needs time (or some pretty brisk shaking) to properly sort its thoughts properly.

I admit, some of my thoughts get stuck in the wrong layer, and then the metaphor breaks down pretty quickly.

One of the little ‘camping cabins’ that my parents have added, to expand the capacity of The Refuge.

It was a lovely afternoon, and I was a more than a little sorry to dispel the peace of the day by piling back into the car with six teenagers for the drive home. But we sang and joked and wended our way back to Lakewood, where I am also very much at home. Maybe my heart can learn to live with two homes, and take joy in both.

Project 365, Day 46
Tim

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For his monologue in Center Stage (a course at the homeschool co-op) David memorized Casey at the Bat, a poem by Ernest Thayer. So it was that the Superbowl this evening brought the final stanza of that poem to mind. Kathy posted it on Facebook:

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville— the mighty Seahawks are out.

He always was a good-looking kid.

OK, so we might have slightly modified the last sentence, but you get the idea. Kathy and I watched the second half of the game online (the kids were off at various parties), and were elated by a spectacular (and extremely lucky) catch by Kearse just seconds before the end of the game. It looked as though the Seahawks would hand the ball to Lynch, who would easily push the ball across the goal line and win the game.

Instead, the ‘Hawks threw a pass, and the pass was intercepted. Then some of the players decided to embarrass themselves by brawling with the Patriots, with less than 20 seconds left in the game. Not our team’s most shining moment.

It made me think about how so many times I add stupidity to poor judgment, and how those two don’t mix very well. And how sometimes I think that I will have more chances to accomplish something, only to discover that I’ve squandered my last chance.

I split my time this afternoon between the Superbowl and a good book.

Today’s sermon at our church was based on the passage in Luke 16 about the rich man and Lazarus, the beggar, who both die suddenly, but whose eternal destinations are dramatically different.

I’m sure the offensive coach in today’s game figured they could try an unexpected pass, and the team would still have another chance to run the ball if the pass was incomplete. But instead, the pass was intercepted, and the game was effectively over. How many people think they’ll have plenty of time to make their peace with God, but suddenly their chances are gone?

In such cases, the consequences are much more serious than winning or losing a football game. Sobering thoughts.

Project 365, Day 32
Tim

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Daniel’s school parking lot accident rendered Tim’s car a little beat up. But, with two pillows stacked behind his back, the driver is nice and comfortable and can actually see without any trouble.

Needless to say, the insurance company issued us a rental car while we settle things from the accident. What kind of car did we “happen” to get?

Pretty red car

I had to chuckle when the man at the rental company offered us a red Toyota Corolla. On Friday, the day of the accident, Tim mentioned in his blog post that he’s been pining for a sporty Corolla since he drove one at 17. I think he might have spent more than a few hours on Saturday researching new and used cars (cough cough, okay mainly just Corollas) online. On Sunday afternoon, as we snuck off for an unexpected date, Tim asked me if I wanted to go test drive a Corolla. Ha. I didn’t. We ended up walking around Steilacoom and getting coffee at Starbucks.

Sunnyside – last January

I don’t know why I was surprised, then, to end up with a new Corolla as our rental car for the week. Of course, it “happened” that the only one they had available was red. Tim knows I have a weakness for red cars. I usually stick to red minivans, but a bright, shiny sedan is certainly fun.

Tim shared the car with Joshua and Kelsie.

Of course, now another sad reality has hit us. Braces. Oh dear. Daniel is getting braces tomorrow. He’s got a rather pronounced under bite and, before they do jaw surgery, they want to try and correct it with braces. Ouch. And then Sarah is due to start with spacers in a few months.

Um, braces are no where near as fun as a new (or even new-ish) car. But they cost a whole lot. Can you hear Tim’s desolate ‘harrumph’ through the internet?

We continue to pray and trust God to guide and direct our decisions and our finances. Not always easy. I am keenly aware at how blessed I am to have been able to stay home with the children all these years. And I am incredibly thankful to Tim for working so hard to provide for and take care of us.

I wish I could buy him a brand new Corolla and spoil him for once.

Some of us like to pose with our cars.

Thank you for all the sacrifices you make for us, Tim!

Project 365 – Day 28
Kathy

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Although I have several skills and abilities, home maintenance and wood-working are not among them. I have a certain anti-genius when it comes to projects around the house.

I’m hoping that David is not like me in this regard.

Whenever I forget who I am, and attempt a household project, it usually follows a certain pattern:

1) I identify the problem and purchase the necessary supplies.
2) Several months go by. (Although some might credit my natural laziness, there is another explanation.)
3) Kathy makes occasional remarks about how nice it is that I have the supplies for the project.
4) I spend a half-hour rounding up the tools I will need. Kathy helpfully points me to the supplies that have been cluttering up her living room for the past 8 weeks.
5) Cautiously, I begin the project.
6) Something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong.
7) In an attempt to fix whatever goes wrong, I damage the thing I’m trying to fix, and I usually waste about 1/3 of the supplies I purchased.
8) I begin to casually speculate about whether I could burn the house down, and make it look like an accident.
9) I spend several hours trying to get back to where we were, before I started this ill-fated project.
10) I go out and purchase more supplies.
11) I eventually cobble together a solution that mostly addresses whatever went badly wrong.
12) I finish the project, which usually looks like a demented four-year-old has savaged it with a reciprocating saw.
13) I vow to never again get sucked into a home maintenance project.

You can see why (2) above usually lasts several months. It takes me a good while to forget how inept I am.

As it turns out, when you force a caster-sleeve into a hole that is too small, things start to go badly wrong.

Today, I must’ve had a fever, because I attempted three projects, and finished two of them. Although the first project didn’t really accomplish anything, we got off pretty lightly ($16 in supplies, and no permanent damage). The second project was a smashing success, if you don’t mind that the blinds I installed aren’t the same color as the ones to the left or right of it. And so far, there have been no serious losses in the third project.

I was trying to put new casters on Kathy’s computer chair, to make it higher (and so it would roll more easily). Neither objective was achieved.

Never mind that we’ve been without a window blind for 18 months.

Just don’t look too closely at the color of this blind.

I’m telling you, I am a brilliant anti-genius among handymen. Want me to come over and work on your place?

Project 365, Day 18
Tim

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