PENSIEVE

What you do 12 days before you move to Germany...

Tick tick tick...

Can you hear it? Because I do, and it's loud and relentless....

Time. Ticking. Away.

My life as I know it will monumentally change 12 days from now and I am feeling its enormity.

After 19 years in the paper industry, my husband is changing careers. He's leaving a dying industry to become part of a growth industry, joining a company that manufactures, among other things, hyper pure polysilicon.

Which tells 99% of you absolutely nothing, eh?

The simplest explanation is it's used in solar panels and microelectronics, and the plant here is sold out through 2015 although it won't even open for production until 2013.  

Which is why MY life is changing:  Tad's training will take place in Germany while their local facility is under construction. 

Somebody scream!!!

Ummm, wait...I just did....

So, on January 31 I will join him for about nine weeks as he makes the transition to Burghausen, Bavaria; our boys will stay home under the care of family and close friends.  I'll return in April to finish out the school year with them; Tad will make his first trip home in May, and then we'll all go back for the Summer while friends house sit.  What happens next school year is still undecided; Thomas will be a senior and that complicates decision-making.  

What I DO know is this opportunity is a precious gift on multiple levels; when I allow myself space to contemplate that aspect, I can barely maintain composure--

• Tad has had his eyes open for the right opportunity for a number of years; this position allows us to remain in the place my children consider home, less than an hour away from my daughter's college.
• The opportunity for travel throughout Europe while we have a home base there is INSANE!  Burghausen is on the Austrian border near where The Sound of Music was filmed.  DO YOU REMEMBER HOW BEAUTIFUL THE AREA IS?!  We'll be 80 miles east of Munich, within driving distance (or a train ride or cheap flight) of Italy, France, Switzerland, the Czech Republic, Belgium, Luxembourg, Spain, the UK.  

I will gladly give up food for travel.  Lose weight + see the world = WINWIN

• We'll get to reunite with my first cousin who lives about three hours away. She's lived in Germany over 20 years; I cannot believe our placement is so near, allowing us to get to know each other as adults.  
• Personal development.  We're going to be immersed in a new culture in a far-away country, challenged to learn a new language.  I'd say the odds are good we'll come back different human beings.
• Intercultural awareness.  I cannot wait to break the barriers of preconceived notions and stereotypes as we experience the truth that people are just people, the geography is just different.  Plus, we get to act as unofficial U.S. Ambassadors; for some, we'll be the only Americans they ever meet!
• Metric.  I'll finally learn it.  Do you realize the United States is the only country in the WORLD (with tiny exception-I-can't-remember-right-now) that uses Imperial measurement?  WTheck is wrong with us?  
• Professional development.  For Tad...he's a great manager of people and processes and I'm over-the-top THRILLED for this opportunity for him work for a 21st Century company.  
• Moving beyond comfort.  Without going into detail, I've lived in a spiritual desert for a long, long while.  But all the while I've had a sense of peace, believing in spite of my doubt or drought or whatever, that God was accomplishing a work of His choosing in me.  Over the past several months he's begun to awaken me from my spiritual slumber, gifting me with a desire to worship Him and read His word, which I assure you, is a gargantuan shift.  The timing of this job thing coincides perfectly; to move me out of my comfort zone and beyond the familiar...well...I have a sense that what has come before has prepared me for what lies ahead.  I have no idea what that means, but my soul, she's a'stirrin', with expectation and anticipation.

So.  What do you do 12 days before you move to Germany?  

You pack up everything you think you'll need to live in an apartment a quarter of the size of your current house.  It's a guessing game you hope you're close to winning.  

You obsess over the illogical.  Because my friend Neal (who works for a German company and has traveled there often over the past 20 years) told me to prepare for my trip by using sandpaper to wipe, my current obsession is toilet paper.  I've bought 48 rolls so the boys will be taken care of, and the same amount for me and Tad.   I also keep binge-buying snacks for their lunches.  

You realize you aren't moving to a Third World Country and they actually have super markets, but you can't stop worrying about freakin' toilet paper.

You start talking on the phone for the first time in years. Mercy...I forgot they worked for something other than texting and taking pictures!

You squeeze in good-bye visits but suddenly realize you haven't done a good enough job of planning that kind of thing.

You finally work on your New Year's letter, having forgone Christmas cards because you knew this was coming in January, to let everyone who doesn't read your blog know what's going on.  You can't afford that number of stamps.

Every time you look at your kids, you look at your kids.  You have eyes to see what was formerly imperceptible, and your heart floats to the center of your throat and you can't speak or you'll fall apart.  

s n i f f ...

I'm sure much of my writing over the next year will involve sharing our experience with those who care to follow.  But, I also plan to finally finish my parenting series, and I'll continue writing for (in)courage, Simple Mom and Therapon, and curate great content for Story Bleed.  I'll also continue writing for Vicks VapoRub through March...it is the cough and cold season, after all.

If you have interest in following our Bavarian adventure, now would be a great time to subscribe in a reader or by email; it would mean a lot to me to know you're virtually holding my hand, praying for us before and during Tad's assignment.  When I'm with him, I'll be homesick for my babies; when I'm with the children, I'll be missin' Tad something awful.  When we're altogether we'll probably be clawing each other's eyes out.

Just sayin'.

Feel free to chime in with your thoughts on where we need to go and what we need to see; I'm working on our European Bucket List and we'd love to learn from your wisdom and experience!

Related posts:

The Year of Living Dangerously

Clues that led up to our news

 

The Year of Living Dangerously

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
~ Helen Keller

She’s looking me dead in the eyes when she speaks, a gaze so deeply penetrating its intensity makes me want to look away…but I can’t.

“God is getting ready to do a work in you not possible when you’re living in your comfort zone,” she tells me when I confide my secret.  And to my concerns she says, “And He’s going to meet your husband and turn him inside out when he’s alone and questioning what in the world he’s doing.”

She speaks with such conviction and great assurance ~ a relative stranger! ~ but I want to believe her.  I do believe her. You see,

my husband and I have learned it’s not in the easy times we’ve grown spiritually, it’s during those difficult seasons of struggle…

…when we want to go back to “Egypt,” to the familiar; not because we liked it but because we knew what to expect.

At mid-life, an adventure has been given to us, a door not merely opened but flung off the hinges, and our only response is to step into the unknown.

I explain the rest of the story in today's (in)courage post, where I tie together the threads of this week's seemingly random clues.

The accidental, honey-fied catching of a fly

I almost titled this the Taming of the Shrew....  Read on.  You'll understand.

* * * * *

Company was coming in hours and he was giving up his room for their visit.  Not because he volunteered, but because we told him so. 

Out of four, his is the messiest room in the house; he would even agree.  He's content to let things fall as they may...and stay there.  Dirty clothes ~ heck, clean clothes! ~ years' old rubber bands from when he had braces, papers from the 9th grade (he's a junior).  His closet floor is stacked to the hem of hanging shirts, and there's no more room for anything that should live there.  Like shoes, which he somewhat orderly lines along his wall behind the drum set.

Five pair, three (I come to find out) don't even fit anymore.

I'm busy, cleaning the rest of the house, readying for my sister and brother and their families.  They aren't White Glovers, but I want them to feel comfortable and anticipated, and part of that is getting the house in Company Order.  It's still in good shape from my manic Thanksgiving cleaning spree, so there's really not a whole lot to do.

Thomas tells me his room is clean, so I wander in to make sure.  With a mom's laser precision, I point out the overflowing trash still in his can, his mirror that hasn't been Windexed since 2009, a few other things; not bad for him.

So he's really done this time, and when I notice the shoes still lined along the wall, I open his closet door to throw them inside.  The towering avalanche of stuff smiles and winks at me.  

So I begin without a word.  My spirit is thrumming the familiar, "If you want anything done right you've got to do it yourself," and frankly I'm not interested in involving him.  I'm the one who wants to know what's in there, obviously it doesn't bother him. 

This time, rather than teaching him to fish, I'm feeding him for the day. 

The rest of the house is waiting a good vacuuming, dusting and mopping, but I choose the Black Hole, unable to resist its attraction.

I start with hanging shirts.  Easy enough; they're mostly on top.

But then I get to the real pile and the only option is to pull everything out to determine what stays and what goes. 

Out comes four duffle bags--they take up so much room!  One he uses, one he might, and two that show their age and he'll never use again.  An old bookbag whose zippers lost their teeth.  Football pads from when he played in 7th grade.  Books from the 10th grade.  Shorts that don't fit.  Socks--the matches to the singles I keep finding!  Empty boxes, three.  Broken drumstick.  A fiery Bozo wig. 

With light at end of tunnel, I finally call him to identify clothes I'm uncertain about.  He's furious when he discovers what I'm doing, his expression, pained.  He thinks I'm judging him, but I'm not.  This time, anyway.

"I'm not fussing, baby," I assure him.  I think he senses this truth.  "There are just a few things I'm not sure about."

"You're doing this NOW?!" he asks, and I explain I just wanted to move his shoes into his closet and one thing led to another.  He knows I clean like this.

He's understandably defensive, anger boiling just under skin.  Resignation hangs on his broad shoulders.  But one by one we beginning sifting through the remaining pile, and he explains whether to keep, give away, throw out, or pass down to his brother. 

We find a rhythm, a momentum.  I am patient and kind. 

Usually I'm a screamy shrew with a judger's dagger.

Small wonder he's tense; he's expecting my usual.

But then something unexpected happens.  As I maintain a sense of calm and kindness, he begins to soften.  His personality comes into play.  We begin laughing...and having fun. 

He's taking ownership.

The boy's gone fishing!

I finish his closet ~ it hasn't looked this beautiful since we moved in ~ but he keeps going!  He empties all his drawers, folds everything neatly, tosses or gives away clothes he won't wear again.

I put the two pair of shoes that still fit in his closet. 

His pride and satisfaction fills the room.

And it slowly dawns on me....

you can,

in fact,

catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

 

Honey photo credit

Top ten reasons you should see "We Bought a Zoo"

Alone on Christmas day this year, our family decided to catch an afternoon movie; I might've been the only one moved to tears
5 times 
don't judge me but everyone walked away praising this movie that exceeded already-high expectation.

Here's why:

 

10.  It's truly family friendly. 

For those with a need to know, I recall two occurrences of "adult" words; one, an honest portrayal of father-son conflict and woundedness (appropriate to the scene), the other an almost shocking utterance by seven-year-old Rosie, said by her in ignorance to make a point, when a few other choices would have worked just as well.  (ADDED:  A commentor shared one of her friend's opinions who had said "the cursing was out of control."  While I don't agree with that harsh of a characterization (and I have older children), language IS one of the reasons the film earned a PG rating; please consult Bob Hoose's review for a word-by-word count of "Crude/Profane Language.")

9.  Rosie Mee. 

It's the first time I've been introduced to Maggie Elizabeth Jones, and we can only hope she has the foundation and family support to remain sane; it would be a crying shame if she morphs into a Lindsay Lohan or Miley Cyrus.  Maggie's a stinkin' adorable, little finger-wrapping, scene-stealing charmer.  Her sparkle and shine could illumine Manhattan.  She's perfection as Rosie.

8.  Well told story.

The first time I saw the trailer for We Bought a Zoo, I thought it was comedy; it's not.  A family needs to heal.  A father needs to learn how to hear his son and build their relationship.  A boy meets girl.  Zookeepers love their job and want to keep it.  Teamwork.  Camaraderie.  Conflict.  Bad guys.  Good guys.  Director Cameron Crowe invited me into a story I cared about.

7.  Great cast.

All the characters mattered to me.  I liked 'em.  They played their roles well without resorting to cliche (mostly).  Scarlett Johannson toned down the heat for her role as Chief Zookeeper, and I loved Angus Macfadyen (a spirits drinking, large-living Scottish zookeeper), J.B. Smoove (an endearing realtor), Colin Ford, (a broken-hearted, artistic and misunderstood teen), Kym Whitley (a Home Depot cashier with a timely word of encouragement).  Even brother Thomas Haden Church evolved believably from dissenter to supporter. 

6.  Matt Damon.

How can anyone not be a fan?  From his award-winning debut writing and acting in Good Will Hunting, to Saving Private Ryan, the Oceans trilogy, the Bourne series and the disturbing The Talented Mr. Ripley, he's money at the box office.  But his success isn't rooted in a pretty face, he has the ability to become The Father (or The Spy or The Soldier), not an actor playing the role.  In Zoo, I feel Benjamin Mee's pain, I understand his challenges and I believe his tears are real. 

5.  The Animals

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!  From my earliest Wonderful World of Walt Disney movies on TV Sunday nights when I was a child, I loved features with animals.  The wilder, the better.  Here, each one will tell their own story...and I could almost smell that bear's bad breath and feel his nasty spit!

4.  No sex or nudity.

I guess this goes along with family friendly, but can I just state for the record how thankful I am no one got naked, no one even implied naked, and no kisses reached the tonsils. 

3.  Kids were KIDS

In keeping with the above, I am SO glad director Cameron Crowe went with a hug when most directors would have gone with First Kiss when this scene rolled around.  That was refreshingly unexpected but greatly appreciated. 

2.  Great quotes

"I like the animals...but I love the humans.
~ Duncan Mee

"You don't want me. I'm filled with Scotch, bitterness and impure thoughts!"
~ Peter MacCready in confronting a lip-smacking lion

"You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it."
~ Benjamine Mee (I bet this sentiment becomes one many will come to live by :).)

1.  The last scene.

I can't recall the last two words of a movie being more perfect.  I can't remember a scene demonstrating love and family healing better than this.  Poignant, heart-stirring, redemptive and satisfying, it was a wonderful conclusion to this engaging story. 

Your turn:  Have you seen the movie?  Share your thoughts!  I'd love to hear any movie recommendations you have to offer.

 

Buy the book that inspired the movie!

 

Linked at Oh Amanda's Top Ten Tuesday, too.

The prettiest ugly sweater of them all and a testimony to love

It was a Christmas gift to my husband the first year we were married, discovered under a pile of marked down sweaters at the Pawleys Island Men's Shop, circa 1987. I thought it was a wonderful gift.  I knew he needed a larger size, but I liked it so much I vowed never to dry it so it wouldn't shrink.  God love him, the man wore it at least once in spite of the snug fit.

Don't let her expression fool you--she and I fight over it now; I just don't think our motives are the same.

After my recent fashion post and now this, you're dying to go shopping with me, no?

:)

Gold apples & silver baskets...

When I watched and heard the trailer for (in)RL yesterday morning, I swear those girls spoke a word over me--

pretend you're outgoing...

love people well...

get through the mess...

it's an expression of trust...

a good friend loves at...all...times...

a safe place to cry the ugly cry...

walls around my heart....

made to crave being together....

desperate woman seeks friends....

we just say who we are....

you didn't give up....

(in)RL is powerful because it does bring us together...

healing mosaic of grace...

If you can't quite wrap your mind around this decidedly unconferency event planned for next Spring, play this video, check out the website...and stay tuned for more videos in coming months that will help explain it in full.

A word fitly spoken is like

apples of gold in a setting of silver.

~ Proverbs 25:11

 

16's silent scream

He is 16 and walking a tightrope, awkward, unsteady and teetering, one side nowhere and the other nowhere good.  He doesn't know it yet but he's a lost boy, a seeker, and he's grasping straws and clutching air, reaching for something he doesn't know exists.

So he fakes it. They all do.

He wears "bad" on his sleeve.  The profane pours from his heart nastily dribbling down his chin.  Hard rock is his drug of choice, loud, crude, a defiant middle finger.  It is masquerade and no one wants to believe it more than him.  He fools a few but mostly no one cares.

He is invisible, dying to be seen.

He isn't godless, he worships alright.  But the objects of his affections are lost, too, courting millions like him, desperate, soulless, angry, sad, bitter...sightless.  They are blind leading blind.

And then he sees a glimpse.  A different way.

A flicker of Light.  

It woos him, this battered moth to flame.

He wants to be seen and heard and known and accepted.

Tired...weary...in need of healing; so badly wounded he doesn't even notice all the places he's bruised and bleeding.

He doesn't need my judgment.  

This child needs love.  This child needs freedom.  This child needs grace.  This child needs Jesus.

Don't we all?

 

Linked to Just Write at Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary's blog.

Image:  The Scream by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch

They sang for their dinner

{This post will be most appreciated by people who actually know us...feel free to click away. :) }

 

"Hey--I've got a GREAT idea!" I tell 'em.  "After dinner, break into groups and re-write the lyrics to songs you know and then have a show for us!!"

They don't know me that well so they were polite, but since I got the stink eye from my daughter ~ complete with raised eyebrow and cocked head ~ I was gonna let the idea die a quick, natural death.  I was mostly kidding, anyway, though there was a serious-as-a-heart-attack part of me, too.  

After they finished two of the best desserts in the world, they did go their separate ways--

girls wrapped in blankets and conversation, the guys finding a guitar and keyboard in our playroom.  Music and laughter filled our home; music and laughter filled my heart.

About an hour later, we were summoned.  Had I known the wonderfulness in store, I would've grabbed my flip cam.  At least I had my cell phone to capture the debut of the Rachel Dance Christmas Song.  

FYI, there was no earthquake during filming; that's me trying and miserably failing to hold the camera steady.  I don't
t h i n k you can hear me snorting.... :)

How can you not have mad love for these guys?  Parts of the performance were brilliant, and the imperfect parts?  Well, those might've been my favorite.

I've included an original copy of the lyrics below since laughter drowned 'em out more than a few times.

She definitely chose the right college....

A weekend Chattanooga to-do list: handmade, local, a side of hope (& FREE Chick-fil-A for a YEAR?!)

The holiday season Chattanooga is bursting with so many wonderful, local things to do, it's hard to pick and choose.  If you live in or near the Scenic City, might I suggest a few things on my radar this weekend?

Miss Chatty Crafty & her band of sistercrafters bless my heart; you'll just have to read to see why.  This weekend they're hosting a Holiday Handmade Show boasting "supermegafoxyawesomehot DIY/Indie gifts" for your friends and loved ones.  Oh, how I love a good word mash-up, so this I have to attend! 

 

The Chattanooga Market, named to Frommer's top ten "America's Best Public Markets," is a local offering at the Tennessee Pavilion running Sundays May-December.  This weekend and next, however, it moves inside to the Chattanooga Convention Center.  You'll find over 200 vendors selling their handmades and homemades, from hand-blown glass and art crafted from recyclables, to jewelry and gourmet foods you won't find anywhere else. 

 

Hoops for Hope.  There's no website to direct you to but the Times Free Press featured a great article about it this week.  The event, now in its third year, benefits the MaryEllen Locher Foundation.  Twelve area teams will compete at Baylor, and one thing is for certain:  there will be a lot of pink!  And my lovely part-time employer, Chick-fil-A is sponsoring FREE Chick-fil-A for a year to any sharp shooter who nails a half-court shot during each match-up!  Anyone donating $5 can try a shot, and they'll receive coupons for two Chick-fil-A Chicken Sandwiches with their donation.  Meaning they'll win whether or not they're a winner :).  Added bonus?  My friend Charles will be calling the games today!

* * * * *

Check out Friday's Current in the TFP for more weekend and upcoming ideas in the greater Tennessee Valley (including tonight's Holiday Starlight Parade downtown!). 

Your turn:  If you live in the Tennessee Valley, please share what you're up to that I shouldn't miss; otherwise, DO tell me special holiday happenings in YOUR neck of the woods!!

The panhandler's breath

He slipped in sideways between the closing elevator doors, as if he were late to a meeting; he pressed the "5" without looking.  But it was evening, and baggy pants and faded navy hung on his tall, slim frame...and his stealth entry stiffened the hairs on the back of my neck. 

The corner of my eye had noticed him a few seconds earlier, just after we had parted a sea of clamorous teens.  He was smiling, grandfatherly, standing maybe 30 feet away where the electric shuttle picks up.  Later I would remember thinking he must work for the bus company, which, had I given any thought to, wouldn't have made sense because it's free and there are no employees to help with boarding. 

I had no idea he was watching us, studying us, predator patiently awaiting his next prey.

The four of us were sealed in a four- by six-foot metal tomb.  Tomb--that thought really scampered across my mind.  I wondered if he had a knife in his pocket.  I wanted to protect my son.  Fight or flight pumped adrenaline but there was no where to run. 

Extreme and ridiculous, these thoughts - and more - flashed through my mind in nano seconds.  The Stranger began speaking.

"Yessir, I see you're a family man with your wife and your son here..." and he nodded in my and Stephen's direction. 

"...you see I'm homeless and all I've got..." and on queue, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out two cents, two old pennies blackened with age.  Two cents to his name? I thought and it was all too contrived, too practiced, and I didn't believe a word he was saying.

It was then I smelled it ~ the small space lent itself to that ~ and I doubted my doubt.  His breath. 

It wasn't the scent of alcohol.  His eyes weren't red and his voice didn't waver; his wizened face matched his graying hair. 

His breath was morning's, zoo breath, the pet name I'd given to the scent inhaled when kissing my children awake when they were little. 

He needed to brush his teeth.  I wondered how long it had been since he brushed his teeth.

The elevator door opened and I handed him my leftover pizza as Stephen and I brushed past him, which was almost funny because minutes before I had told my husband if he ate it before I had a chance, I'd cut him (What can I say?  Mellow Mushroom is my favorite).  Tad pulled out his wallet and gave him a bill and the Stranger thanked and God blessed him.

The elevator door closed behind us.  Conflicted, I was relieved.

We got in the car and blurted first thoughts--

"I didn't believe a word he said," mine.

"That made me nervous," my son's.

"I wonder if he'll really eat the pizza," my husband.

In the quiet, we wondered many more thoughts, processing those few minutes, wondering what IS the right thing to do. 

And at the end of the day, this is what I conclude--

It doesn't matter whether or not his story is true;

for an old man to resort to begging strangers for money, he has to be some kind of desperate.  The money my husband gave him will never be missed.  It was a reminder that we've been entrusted with much and given much.  Materially, yes, but more so spiritually.  Loved, chosen, forgiven, redeemed, graced, lavished--every spiritual blessing.   

E v e r y. 

There's a part of me that wishes I would have been brave enough to ask the man his story, made sure he knew he was loved...and bought him a tooth brush. 

But this morning it occurred to me he could have been an angel.  Which tells me generosity, kindness and hospitality is always the right response; because then it's not about you or the stranger or the circumstance, it's about a simple, God-glorifying response.

Did we entertain an angel last night?  We'll never know. 

But it wouldn't be the first time the Breath of Heaven smelled like a zoo.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : 

Linked at the Extraordinary Ordinary, because I just wrote :).  Go...visit...lots of great writing over there.

 

Click for photo credit.