Oct 2, 2011 | A Repat, Stories
One of the books I’m reading at the moment, which I quoted the other day, ya know, while I was looking for my ferret, is speaking some really life-giving words to my soul at the moment. I’m adding a little Amazon link right here right now, in case you would like to read the life-giving words, too.
You might enjoy this book if you 1) are breathing 2) ever feel like saying “I’m fine” when you don’t feel that way or 3) find yourself avoiding confrontation like the Black Plague.
Anywho. Here’s what I feel like I needed to hear this evening that you might need to hear, too.
It is okay, and even good, to be honest about your emotions.
It is good to be honest with God.
It is good to be honest with the people around you.
{An honest dog, who’s visiting with my brother, who just met his second nephew for the first time!}
If you’re hurting, angry, sad, disappointed, confused, or something else, hereby receive the permission you may or may not have realized you already had to speak freely. Feel free to practice in the comments, but I also recommend speaking to other people in real life to talk about what you’re going through.
Speaking freely and honestly, I personally don’t do very well with speaking freely and honestly. I would rather you perceive me as having it all together than take a chance at letting my guard down and change those perceptions.
Right now, for example, life feels kind of confusing for me — as if there’s a fog over my head and I’m watching my life through one of those viewing windows you look through when people are being interviewed by the police in those intimidating rooms that just have a table and two metal chairs.
I’m confident that this is all a part of the process of re-entry, and I’m not planning to start worrying about how and when the fog will lift. In the meantime, it’s here with a little sadness, a bit of feeling disconnected. Even a bit of wishing I was somehow more in control. Transition is weird.
Sometimes unpleasant…like the air biscuits my brother’s dog is laying as I type this right now.
Fear encourages us not to be honest about how we’re feeling. But these emotions are a part of this glorious human experience. And I don’t know whether there’s supposed to be a ‘u’ in glorious anymore.
But it’s still glorious.
The next time someone asks how you’re doing, I hope you’ll think twice before just saying “Fine.” {And thanks, Emily, I needed the reminder.}
xCC
{A point I think I’m suppose to add down here: Grace for the Good Girl by Emily P. Freeman is 1) a great book 2) available on Amazon and 3) if you click that link up there and go buy the book at Amazon, like the little carousel to the right, a small portion of the sale will come my way. Kind of like commission. Which is nifty. So there ya go.}
Sep 30, 2011 | A Repat, Baby Photos, Stories
Have you ever heard of a nursing strike? Like, when a baby basically decides they won’t breastfeed for some reason? Well around these parts, the Tank has enacted a napping strike, which (in our case) is when a baby who used to nap very nicely decides once the clock hits the 30 to 45 minute mark, sleep is done. And this baby who was taking 3 or 4 good hour and a half naps a day is no longer giving me a chance to read a chapter, or shower, dry my hair and get dressed.
It ain’t purty.
In other news, the internet was out for two days, hence things being quiet here. And. It came back on, and that evening I was planning to catch you up on the life and times of this here expat-repat, and do you know what? It sure enough decided it was time to stop working again.
Weren’t too purty either.
{I should warn you I’m writing this tired and the southern comes out when I’m tired. Alright y’all? Let’s move on.}
In other news that’s a lot better, we actually did achieve those little photographic missions I was hoping to accomplish just before, and upon, our arrival. The photos from London aren’t ready yet, but the arriving photo I was hoping we’d capture is hot off the presses.
In case you need a reminder, this was when the Bear met G-pa, back in Cape Town airport in 2008:
And I hoped we could snag something similar, right here at Raleigh-Durham International Airport, September 2011.
And we did!
See?
G-pa opted for the purple, instead of the yellow hat on this occasion, which was nicely complemented by the Tank’s yellow onesie. We didn’t even plan that. And like the Bear, the Tank was equally impressed with G-pa’s hat.
Another very special reunion/introduction ensued, after a wee car drive to eastern North Carolina.
Very exciting, and rather different from when G.C. met the Bear:
because he was only a few days old, but Blakey already had six month notches (now seven!) under his belt. Or on his onesie. Or etched into his crib. But we sold that. Ahem.
So the news in a nutshell is: the Bear loves preschool, the Tank loves solid food but doesn’t like napping, Hero Hubs officially starts work next week, and I’m still feeling a bit loopy getting settled in to life here again. And I think it’s gonna take a while.
But I’m thinking I’ve got a while.
And that’s good news, too.
xCC
Sep 27, 2011 | A Repat, Stories
I‘m in the middle of a couple of good books at the moment. I grabbed one of them off my sister’s bookshelf, and she’d made notes in it that make me feel like I’m getting to read it with her, even though she’s many-a-mile away in Colorado. Special treat. She has a great sense of humour. Or humor, since she’s American. So am I.
My own thoughts still feel like a bit of a jumble at the moment…like I’m struggling a little bit to get a grip with the new reality. It reminds me of a dream I had the other night that seemed so certain and so real, I woke up and wondered where my ferret was. I have never owned a ferret. And I don’t think I ever will own a ferret. But I woke up from the dream with the cuddly little white ferret, it may or may not have had a collar, and the first thought in my mind in those waking moments — troublesome, loud and important was:
Where’s my ferret?
The good books I’ve been reading have had some good thoughts I thought were more mention-worthy than my imaginary ferret.
{A bookshelf at Se7en’s house!}
I’ve been challenged by these words: “Andrew is the one who taught me that what I believe is not what I say I believe; what I believe is what I do.” This reminds me of some definitions of integrity I’ve heard, and makes me thankful for grace.
“Jesus didn’t value what people thought; he valued people, period.” This is an incredibly freeing statement for me. I need to internalize this wisdom.
I’ve also been thinking about Mark 11, and Jesus deciding to make that triumphant entry into Jerusalem, not long before He died, on a donkey. I’m sure His disciples would’ve been willing to put on a show for Him — a big jazzy parade with flags and loud music, maybe even some people to toss figs and dates to the crowd. He could’ve had strobe lights and fog machines if He wanted. Or at least bubble blowers to make all the children giggle.
But He opted to go the road low. And I’ve been thinking about Him leading the way, in that way, and what that might mean for you and me if we want to follow His lead. Hmm.
I made a second trip to the grocery store, and once again enjoyed seeing exactly three people I knew. I kept the list short and thus avoided the fog of too many decisions at once. In case you ever plan on making a transcontinental move, I highly recommend taking the engagement with grocery shopping S.L.O.W.
We don’t quite have our routine and rhythm yet, but I’m hoping making a meal plan for the week will help. And I’m hoping Blakeyboo will decide sleep is awesome and he wants more of it. And I’m hoping to get a grip with reality again, so that my heart and my brain can focus for a decent length of time, and enjoy clear time in the presence of the Lord, and share encouraging thoughts and revelations here.
Until then, if I ask you where my ferret is, just remind me I don’t have one.
xCC
P.S. Want to take a stab at what two books those lines might be from? Two hints: free and Blue.
Sep 24, 2011 | Stories, The Parenthood
Although this post is available to friends and family near and far, being posted on these here internets, it is especially devoted to the Goo-Goo and Gammy who are spoken of each and every day, who I’m certain would like to hear how preschool is going. And who would also probably like to hear that after requesting a drive to G-pa’s house on Wednesday, the Bear asked where Goo-Goo and Gammy’s house was. He was disappointed that “not so close” and “South Africa” were words involved in answering that question.
Miss you guys.
Okay everybody. The Bear had his first day of preschool on Monday.
And the morning started off in a bit of a blurry wee hurry, but when he tripped over his own foot in the living room and met the floor a lot faster than usual and cried his eyes out and wanted me to hold him and wanted Daddy to hold him, the thought suddenly occurred to me that that very same thing could happen. And happen at preschool. And I wouldn’t be there.
It was a troublesome thought, which I banished quickly to a dark recess for another day, and pressed on through the morning without tears. A remarkable achievement, don’t ya think?
As we embarked on the adventure to preschool, the photojournalism, documenting this historic event began.
The Bear seemed… concerned… about the day ahead.
Perhaps it was a defiant look of determination.
And then rather an “I’ve got this” sort of pose.
Mayhaps he was downright excited?
But arriving at the gates he was back to determined.
An expression followed quickly by an I think I can moment.
Upon arrival, he gave the space an intentional perusal before settling in.
And determined it was worthwhile spending time here.
Perhaps it could even be good. {Especially if I get to play with this! thought he.}
He felt uncertain about the customs and behaviour of the natives.
{And his mother blurred faces out, because we’re back in the land where people have sued people for less, and I don’t have parental permission!}
He was uncertain that the friendliness of their leader was genuine.
{But his mother thinks his teacher is Awesome! Capital A.}
And by the time his mother came to collect him at morning’s end…
{disclaimer: Quiver Tree Photography would like it to be known that it is not responsible for this shocking attempt at a photograph. And I take full responsibility for the lack of skill involved in its capturing.}
…the overall outlook at the end of day one was pretty bleak. Perhaps starting a week late (he couldn’t help it, he was in the UK!) was a bigger problem than we thought.
On Day Two, after a field trip to the local library, there was a heart sore moment involving one or two kids’ parents or grandparents arriving before the Bear’s (he didn’t know I’d been waiting in the parking lot for ten minutes). The (perceived) temporary absence of his mother was mildly disturbing. I arrived to find him in tears about it. Fortunately, that was very brief.
On Day Three, his stuffed animal Beaver made an appearance in the classroom. And besides practicing the songs they sing in the morning that I’d picked up while sitting in with him for a little while (at his request) we’d practiced answering important questions: Beaver’s name is Beaver. Beaver is the colour brown, Beaver is small. Mama got Beaver in Germany. (Which sounded like Jury-uh when he said it.)
And somehow, on day three, things began magically clicking into place. (Answered prayer.) And the Bear enjoyed preschool. And seemed happy when Dada arrived to pick him up. The teacher’s assistant said he had a very good day.
Monday will be day four, and here’s hoping there’s more happy in store!
So, that’s how it’s going with preschool! Goo-Goo and Gammy, we wish you were here!
xCC
Sep 23, 2011 | Baby Photos
I still have a rough cold and a crackly whisper of a voice, but I saw three people I knew at the grocery store yesterday, and only converted prices back to Rand a couple of times. And I bought my Mom a bottle of wine to accompany the magnificent birthday meal I cooked her, and I got carded.
And happiness is these photos from Bloemfontein:
which are the bees’ knees to me.
Or this one,
which takes the cake.
Or some other similarly appropriate metaphor, by which it is clear to you that this photograph puts a great big whoppin’ smile on my face.
Now does anybody know where I can find Rooibos tea, besides Starbucks?
xCC
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