Small Town Livin'

The first time I visited this small farm town of which I now call Home, I was less than impressed. I was a 21 year old college student attending a university in the great city of Chicago. Driving out of the city into the expanse of cornfields and red barns was like stepping out of a desert directly into an ice age. Complete shock. Ironically, my husband and I were only at the "just friends" stage of our relationship at the time, but he had already told me that I was the one he was going to marry, and I was just trying to catch up. This visit was not helping his case.

A tour through the tiny town of not quite 10,000 people left me feeling somber. I did not see any young people... no hot spots, no Starbucks, no shopping of any kind really, and not many restaurants except the ones I didn't like. Plenty of nursing homes, abandoned store fronts and uneven brick roads helped me come to the immediate conclusion that this would never be a place I would choose to live. Ever. I remember walking into a little boutique (which, even as a college student, I thought was pretty cute and I remember thinking "well, at least the town has this"). A woman approached me and asked me if I needed help. When she saw who I was with (my "friend" and his mom) the following conversation revealed that she was a second or third cousin of Eric's - once or twice removed, they weren't quite sure. This struck me as odd. I have a total of six cousins in existence, who all live in opposite corners of the United States. I have never really had close relationships with many of my external family members, since distance was always such an obstacle. Did I even have second cousins?

It was the holiday of Easter that had brought me to this little neck of the... cornfields, of which, in my family, was celebrated with just me and my siblings and parents and an awesome ham. Eric's entire family was present for this particular feast, and after I had met his mom, dad, brother, sister, sister's boyfriend, aunt, uncle, grandparents, cousins and their spouses I had just decided to claim the title of "Eric's girlfriend" because explaining anything else was just getting too complicated. (Yes, that is how it happened, folks.) Eric's familys' roots ran deep in this town and it was evident everywhere we went. Driving around the country led us past old farmhouses occupied by relatives of all sorts. I never thought in a million years that I would grow to love those stretching corn fields.

Fast forward nine years. It is August 17, 2011. I step inside an empty house that belongs to Eric's grandmother, who recently moved into a nursing home. Though there is nothing inside this house, I can still picture the furniture that used to hug every corner and the old pictures that adorned the walls. My 11 month old is resting on my hip, my two year old is... somewhere. And I am thinking, "This is it. Our new home. Lord, you promised to prosper me, not to harm me. Please make good on that promise. Please."

Hardly a week had passed since we had moved into our new home. I opened up the front door one morning to find this sitting on our porch.

 

This was a big deal to me. Moving (which included leaving my family behind) was so hard - emotionally and physically. We were receiving gifts from strangers and finding fresh home grown veggies delivered to our door step. This town showed my sweet little family more love, generosity and acceptance in several weeks than I ever could have asked for. And it helped. The outpouring of friendship reeled me right in.

 

My 21 year old self had no clue what my 30 year old heart would yearn for, yet it was those initial judgements that I clung to which shaped my negative view towards this town. As I watched my eldest son climb on a combine for the first time with his daddy and ride off into the fields, his excitement erupting into giggles and questions and ear to ear smiles, I knew this was the best place for me to be raising my two sons. My husband was happy to be doing what he loved doing. My children were loving farm life and all the dirt, big wheels and green it had to offer. 

 

We have since found a church that we love, friendships that are blessing us richly, and both Eric and I are using our spiritual gifts to serve others within the community. I always run into someone I know when I am grocery shopping or running errands in town. I have a "usual" at my favorite coffee spot. My hair stylist is a dear friend - getting my hair done turns into a girls night on the town. So is the receptionist at the doctor's office up the road that my boys and I frequent in the winter. Only in a small town can you walk in the doors of a business, meet someone you think is friendly and end up scheduling a play date a few weeks later. But one of the best things is when a friend's child sees you across the aisle at the store and runs to you with arms wide open. We are doing more than cultivating friendships here. We are growing a family - a network of people who genuinely love each other, caring about the lives of every member.

 

I was very judgmental when I visited this small town a dozen years ago. I surveyed the area, made claims against the place and decided them to be true... A town with no Starbucks could never offer me a place where I could be inspired to write. I don't see any young families walking around so there must not be any which means I will have no friends. The churches are so small, there is no way I will be able to serve in the same capacity as my previous church with 5,000 members. There are no good restaurants anywhere so Eric and I are never going to be able to go on a date again... 

 

I have very limited eye sight. I am so thankful for a God who sees the big picture. And I am so blessed to say that He proved me wrong with every single one of those claims. Sure, there are times I get frustrated that I have to drive 25 minutes to buy organic fruit, and I really wish my favorite sushi restaurant wasn't 45 minutes away, and it sure would be nice to have the boys' doctor and dentist a little closer, BUT I love running into a friend when we are dropping our kids off at sports camp and spontaneously decide to grab a cup of coffee, and I am so thankful that we live so close to family, and I ADORE the fact that the boys can go to work with their daddy and learn what it means to work hard. Life is slower here.

 

But life is fuller here.

 

I have learned an important life lesson through this journey. Just like my momma taught me to never judge a book by its cover, or a person by their outsides, I should never judge a situation or circumstance before completely immersing myself in it. I don't believe I've changed either. I'm still the same woman - with the same wiring and past and experiences and fears as my 21 year old self - but I've allowed myself to grow. Judgmental attitudes stem from the fear of personal growth. Often we stunt our own personal growth because we are afraid of what it means for our future - and it feels safer to stay where we are. I still love visits to the city. I will never embrace the farmer's flannel. I just can't. But I have allowed myself the opportunity to embrace a life full of richness and blessings, and I have grown so much in the process.

 

Eric and I recently took the boys on a bike ride through the town. We rode through neighborhoods, down Main Street, through the fairgrounds, passed the train tracks, around the hospital, through the park and even stopped for ice cream. We invented a game as we pedalled along, waving at everyone, mostly people we knew. The game was called "You know you live in a small town when..." We laughed at some of the scenarios we had experienced since we had moved here. My favorite was "You know you live in a small town when you call to order a pizza and the pizza guy on the other end of the line asks for your name, exclaims, "We have the same last name! We must be related!" and come to find out... you are related."

 

This is the kind of town where friends trade home grown tomatoes for fresh farm eggs. It's the kind of town that rallies behind those who are ill with benefits and auctions to help support families during difficult times. It's the kind of town where everybody knows your name... (sing with me!). It's the kind of town I want my children to grow up in. It's the kind of town I want to live in.

 

I think I've come along way. For those of you that know me well, I actually started listening to country music the other day. I know, shocking. It's all about choosing to grow... blooming where you are planted. Embracing the life God has in store for you because He knows best. And He knows what I like better than I do.







Love, Loss, and Legacy

Family vacations taken during my childhood were always an adventure... of sorts. I have fond memories of jumping in the Atlantic waves that rolled into Myrtle Beach, braving the tallest water slides with my Dad, and souvenir shopping with my mom. Whether we were travelling someplace exotic (compared to central New York) or visiting family, a very long car ride was inevitable. My dad had an affinity for Flock of Seagulls, Peter Gabriel, and the Yardbirds, which only added annoyance - like icing on a cake - to the already complaining younger brothers who missed the cup quite often when attempting to pee in the car because my dad's eagerness to reach the final destination trumped stopping the vehicle. And forget about scouting around for cute boys - I was too busy trying to locate one brother who had mastered the disappearing act in the middle of the busiest places. Now as an adult, I look back on the memories made and cherish them. The laughs, the annoyances - all of it. The day we were strolling along the boardwalk and stumbled across a Jesus Jones concert while they were rocking out their popular radio hit that my dad and I actually both liked, and the night we all dressed up for our elegant dinner on our first cruise, and the time my mom's whole side of the family decided to rent a house near Virginia Beach - with her three sisters and brother and my three brothers and a cousin and grandparents - crazy fun. Moments we were all together, stepping out of regular life into a moment where time stood still and we could just... be.

My mom and I were talking earlier this year about how my youngest brother was going to be leaving for grad school in Japan at the end of the summer, and how the whole family (parents and four siblings with families) hadn't all been together in over a couple of years. We decided on the spot to rent a beach house in Gulf Shores and have one last hoorah before we sent my brother to the other side of the world. Plans were quickly made, everyone was on board. Just three weeks before our departure date I made a paper chain that my boys could rip apart daily as a countdown to our beach trip. With only a few paper chain links remaining, I received a phone call from my mom who informed me that her and my father would be driving to Connecticut (from their home in Nashville) to be with my grandma who only had a few days left to live. Because my parents had so graciously rented this house for us, along with the uncertainty of when my grandmother would actually pass, my brothers and I decided to proceed with our vacation plans, praying that my parents would be able to join us soon.

I wrote about my grandmother in another blog post (The Story Before Your Story). She had lived a long, full life and old age wasn't being kind to her anymore. My grandma Mary passed away the morning we all set out for the beach. The car ride that day was long... thinking about her and her life. Sad that I wasn't able to be there for my dad, missing my parents who I knew in my heart wouldn't be making it to the beach... all while maintaining excitement for the two little boys who sat like angels in the back of our Explorer, anxiously looking out the window for a glimpse of the ocean. When we arrived at our destination, my two little sweet peas morphed into cannon balls as they shot out of their car seats and flew towards the sand and water. I trailed behind them, the sand sticking to my legs, my lungs filling with air tinted with salt water, the sound of the crashing waves growing louder with every step I took. Warm embraces from my brothers and excitement about the beautiful house, getting settled and grilling dinner kept me from shedding more than the single tear that found its way out as my heart wished for this family gathering to be complete.

Our first full day at the beach house was perfect. The three little cousins had fun burying one another in the sand and chasing a crab they collectively named Crab Apple Peanut Butter. Eric found himself swimming next to a sting ray, and my sister-in-law and I enjoyed watching the dolphins frolic and flip right out in front of us. The smell of sunscreen, salty kisses and sand in every crack and crevice of our bodies was a constant reminder that we were exactly where we wanted to be. That night we gathered up the entire clan for some family pictures.

 

 

 

This family blesses me. Things may not have worked out exactly how I would have preferred, but the time that I had to bond with my brothers and their families this week was precious to me. Life is so busy. All the time. One thing that Eric and I have realized over the past few years is that we MUST take a family vacation every year, and him and I MUST take a long weekend getaway - just the two of us - every year. It's so important to have time to connect and focus on each other without distractions and the demands of every day life. Beautiful things happen when you have time to clear your head, sit back and relax, and say yes to every silly request your kids have. Stripping life down to just family time invites peace and joy to be abundantly present. And after a busy planting season, our little family of four desperately needed this time away from the craziness of daily life.

 

Eric and I took the boys to visit the USS Alabama in Mobile. The second we pulled into the parking lot of the military park the tears started flowing. I'm sure, in part, it had something to do with the fact that we had all watched Lone Survivor the previous night. Having so many relatives who are or had served in the military really invited me into claiming a part of a legacy I never really acquainted myself with before. As we explored the huge battleship (which Jack would have happily lived on for the rest of our vacation) I felt a tug to be connected to it somehow. The stories of men and women who served on it, the sleeping quarters displayed to give you a glimpse of what life was like for someone who lived aboard the ship, the guns and cannons reminding us that this was not a toy boat - all pointed to legacies that had been interwoven into the fabric of the ship.

 

 

 

In the back of my mind, I knew I was being sentimental, as it was also the day of my grandmother's funeral. Deep down I was evaluating my own life and the legacy I was leaving my own children. As I thought about my grandmother and the countless men and women who had served aboard the ship, so many other names and faces came to mind whom I had known or loved, and had lost. The lyrics of Nichole Nordeman's song Legacy began streaming through my head and I realized that it's important to remember our lost loved ones, but even more importantly, to celebrate them. This week long vacation of celebrating family and love, peace and joy, blessings and gratitude - was also about remembering where we came from... and Who we belong to.

 

That night as the sun was setting, we carried some colorful flowers out to the water's edge, and took a moment to celebrate my grandmother. In remembrance of the beauty and gift of her life, we cast the flowers into the waves and watched as the tide drew them into the deep ocean.

 

 

 

There is something so pure about a child playing. Watching my boys crash into the waves with laughter and excitement, instilled a strong sense of freedom within me. I tend to over complicate things. When I look at my life with a magnifying lens, its no wonder why I see so many imperfections. As I twirled Gabe in the water and searched for shells with Jack, God took a moment to gently remind me that the more important things in life don't require a magnifying lens to see. They are right there in front of me - waiting to be claimed by love and acceptance. And as I choose to embrace love, the legacy I leave becomes like footprints in the sand... a journey with a history and a future, intersected with others' lives, continually washed over with abounding grace, all while God tenderly draws me into His deep oceans of love.

 

My brothers and I decided to surprise my parents in Nashville, who had returned from Connecticut, on our way home from the beach. We all enjoyed a big, loud meal together before we went our separate ways. Twelve bodies packed together around the dining room table, celebrating one brother's birthday, Father's Day and another brother's admittance to grad school. The clinking of our glasses was the highlight of the week - a celebration of love and togetherness, the essence of family.