So, this is happy

It's been a month since I've been paid, and the bank account is surviving on fumes. We're out of milk. And bubble bath. I know the first paycheck is already spent on bill catch-up.

My husband is 202 miles away 5 days a week, and I'm week-day raising an increasingly opinionated almost-2-year-old by myself until mid-June. And we're down to one car.

This morning Clark wiped snot across my fresh from the dryer pants. The only pair that fits right now because I've gained five pounds.

 I live in a too-small daylight basement duplex below a couple who vacuum every day and never turn off the TV. After a few days I start to feel like a troll in there.

Clark was up at 5:30 this morning, chanting, "Go play! Go play!"

I have had the theme song from "Super Why" stuck in my head for days.

I've got this new job where my boss is out of the office most days and I have a very loose understanding of what I'm supposed to do all day long. Most days I stare at my computer or walk around campus until it's time to go pick up Clark from day care, because I really have nothing to do but wait for emails.

My first project is a political landmine and I am for sure pissing off someone.

I wouldn't go back to Yakima for a million dollars.

There have been moments in the last month when I have wondered what in the world we were thinking. I'm sure there will be more. But this morning, I was walking across campus in the crisp February air, watching people scurry around doing Jazz Fest prep, and it was bliss. I love it here. I love my undefined job and getting off work at 4:30 and going home. I love being in bed by 10.


Last night I was in line at Safeway behind an Irish man buying two very large bottles of wine and comically berating everyone else in line: "Why is everyone shopping when I'm shopping? Look at what this guy has -- apple juice and Jell-O! That's why you're in the back! I'm buying the essentials! This is wine! This is life and death!"

God, only in Moscow. He's probably a professor.


I just had to take a minute this morning to be grateful. Yes, this is hard. I want TJ here with me. I want to buy a new house and not be a renter anymore. I want to sell my house and not be a landlord. I want to busy at work so the hours don't seem so darn long.

But wow. It's also a total dream. It's not perfect, but what is?

I just wanted to take a minute to hopefully offer a little encouragement to those I love who are also living in non-ideal situations: Remember what you're working toward. Remember all the things in your life that are still good. Remember that God has a plan and whatever This is that you're in right now is only for a season.

As a dear friend recently advised, "Take some time to listen to the birds."

Smile.

This is 2 (a poem)

I got you a 4-piece.
you'd have eaten a six.
(You insisted I make you more).
You know who SpongeBob is
(you know we race the PattyWagon).

This is 2.

All of our questions have
three answers:
What would you like for dinner?
     Chicken nuggets.
What do you want to watch?
     Daniel Tiger
Would you like to (go to sleep?) (have a snack?) (play with this?)
    No.
(These are all interchangeable).

This is 2.

Tears are quieted with
    Batman.
    Judas Priest.
    AC/DC.
(my little rocker. I blame your father).

This is 2.

We've read "Chicka Chicka" 8 times today.
in a row.
And "Cookie's Week,"
and you always insist on slapping Thursday's page.

This is 2.

Bedtime must have 
Batman.
Daniel Tiger
   (always both names ...)
Always "one more story."
No seriously, this is the last story.
OK, pick out just one more.
No, I'm not going to reach "Chicka Chicka" again.
("Re! Gain!")

This is 2.

"A told B ... and B told C..."

A God who cares

When driving here two weeks ago now, TJ totaled his car (read that saga here). And I kind of sat there and said, "What are you doing, God?"

Rest in Peace, Winston.

And admittedly, I was a little unsteady on the whole thing. I looked up the Blue Book on the car and was instantly depressed. It was so low. Not enough to make much of a dent in our debt or moving costs. Not much of anything.

Then, I filed our taxes, and the return was half of last year's, and I thought. "Shoot." All my big plans of paying off debt and getting ahead and being able to live on my reduced salary were going up in flames.

Plus now we only have one car.

This week, I collected the check for TJ's car from Geico. And God blew me away. It was three times the Blue Book, for no discernible reason, other than that's just how Geico does it. We were able to pay off the deck we financed last spring. And the tires I just had to buy for my car. And buy TJ's plane ticket to New Orleans for a conference.

And suddenly that tiny tax return transformed from necessary money to bonus money that can be saved to fill in the financial gaps as we maintain lives in two towns and with less money for the next five months.

And I heard God say, This is what I'm doing. I'm taking care of you.

Because God cares about my debt load. God cares about my financial stress. God cares about us having the money to eat, and pay rent and cover the daycare bill. God cares about me.

God cares about you.

This morning I began to see God's wheels turning on something else in our lives, and I thought, "What are you doing, God?"

And I heard God say, I'm taking care of you. 

On this cloudy, warm, rainy Friday, I hope you hear God whisper that He's taking care of you, too. Even (especially) when you don't know what he's doing.