Visiting the Family Farm

I spent my Memorial Day weekend at the Family Farm. (And on the LO-O-ONG drive to and from the Family Farm.) My dad's family had a reunion this weekend. So did my husband's mom's family, but just he and the girls made it to that one -- I stayed at the Family Farm for a memorial service for my aunt who died suddenly Friday morning. (This required some complicated arrangements for me over the weekend, but that's another story.)

Anyway . . . the Family Farm. In Gem, Kansas, just outside of Colby. Western Kansas. Farm country. My sisters, being older than I, spent a lot more time at the Family Farm with Grandpa (who died when I was a baby), Grandma, aunts, uncles and cousins. I went to a couple reunions there when I was young and occasionally visited the aunt and uncle who moved in when the grandparents moved out.

But I'm a city girl through and through. The Family Farm was kind of an abstraction to me. A nice place to visit, but I didn't necessarily feel a personal connection to it, as much as I appreciated the idea of it.

At this visit, however, I was an adult . . . and the weekend was all about remembering my aunt and dad and grandma and hearing others remember other family members who have left us that I never knew . . . and it was much more meaningful for me than past visits.

Things That Stood Out to Me This Weekend About the Family Farm:

- My grandparents apparently first acquired this property and started living there in 1921, two years before my dad was born. I'm not sure why that fact was so remarkable to me, but wow. A lot of history there.

- There's a gas pump by their driveway. I never noticed this. Apparently, that was a "duh" thing for everyone else there. Of course they have their own gas pump. Gotta fill up the tractors and so forth. Geez, so much I don't know about farm life.

- My aunt had a big shadow box on the wall (see the picture to the right) with things that, out of the corner of my eye, looked like dried flowers or weeds. Nope. Turns out, those were crocheted items made from . . . the hair of my deceased female relatives. No lie. It seems this was a common thing back then. Women would save the hair from their hairbrushes and use them like thread to crochet decorative items, like these little flowers and such. Several had labels attached with the name of the woman whose hair was used for that item, but all but one label were faded now. Kind of cool and kind of creepy at the same time.

But it reminded me of how differently the Greatest Generation lived. My parents lived through the Depression. They used everything until it completely wore out. I remember my mother rinsing out plastic bags and hanging them out to dry so she could use them over and over again. That was a bit extreme, but the wastefulness of my generation is extreme, too.

- As I said, I never knew my Grandpa. I only know him from pictures. But in most of the pictures I've seen of him, the bottom half of his face is very, very tan -- so brown that he almost looks like the old comics who did blackface. His forehead, on the other hand, was white. A farmer's tan, from wearing hats out in the fields all day. That's the image of my Grandpa in my mind.

And I was struck this weekend, while looking at old pictures of my dad and his siblings when they were young, how often the boys had the same white foreheads. Early twentieth century farm families . . . the boys worked on the farm all day, too. We have lazy, privileged kids these days. I'M a lazy, privileged kid.

- The farmhouse seemed so small. I realize that this was because for most of my visits there, I was so small. But I couldn't quite imagine how a family of nine had lived here. (And in fact, my mother told me that when she met my dad's family, the farmhouse wasn't even built yet. They were all living in the basement.)

- The farmhouse seemed so sweet. I don't think I thought much of it when I was young, other than it seemed old and it had features I was completely unfamiliar with, like the big heating vent on the floor you had to be sure not to step on with bare feet in the winter. But this weekend, it felt cozy and homey and sweet. I kept thinking, I could live here. And I know I've never thought that before.

- The air is so fresh and clean. We had perfectly gorgeous weather for the reunion, and the windows in the house were open so a breeze could blow through every room. Lovely. Refreshing. I want to live like that.

- The world is so huge. The sky is enormous! Until you've stood on a dusty road in western Kansas and scanned the horizon in every direction, you simply can't conceive of how big our world is. I remember traveling with my dad in forested and mountainous areas and hearing him complain that you couldn't see anything because all the trees were in the way. I always thought that was the most bizarre statement; I get it now.

One of these days, my aunt and uncle are not going to be able to live on the Family Farm any longer. I kept hearing this weekend that one of their sons would be moving in then. I'm glad. All of a sudden, it is very important to me that the Family Farm stay in the family.

Fredericksburg and Shops

Last Saturday, our family drove the one-hour jaunt up to Fredericksburg, one of the many little towns around here that we keep hearing we need to visit. There happened to be a Food and Wine Festival going on -- we didn't even know until we got there, but we didn't participate in that anyway.

We took a peek in an old, old Catholic church right by where we parked (I love looking inside old churches). We spent an hour or so at the Pioneer Museum -- well-kept, but similar to other such museums we've been to. Then we walked up and down main street seeing the sights . . . which were mainly people and shops.

Lots of shops. What's the word for the kind of shops I'm talking about? Maybe it's "specialty shops". Cute little stores packed to the ceiling with cute little things. There was a dog specialty shop we stopped at to see a million and one unnecessary and costly dog accessories. There was a Christmas shop where we saw five million and one beautiful and excessive Christmas decorations. Seven blocks or so of such places, lining both sides of the street. Plus all the German biergartens and chocolate shops.

It was a cute little town. I kept thinking how twenty years ago, I would have just eaten this up. I loved "specialty shops." I could have spent all day long looking at the items in these stores. I probably wouldn't have bought much, but I would have wanted to -- or I would have come away with ideas for things I wanted to try to make myself for cheaper.

Because I used to be a crafter, or at least fancy myself as one. I still have a stash of craft supplies in storage left over from those days, just in case I need something again. I loved the idea of making some cute little item to beautify my house with my personal touches. I often said I'd rather decorate my home with something I made that is of slightly lower quality but would have meaning to me, than with something fabulous that I just plunked down some money for.

There's probably a remnant of that sentiment still in me somewhere. But not much. Somewhere along the way, I lost the urge to make little things. Even more so, I lost the urge to HAVE little things sitting around my house looking pretty. As my mother was known to say, "It's just more to dust."

So, walking through these stores made me examine myself and my new set of values. I'd like to think there's something somewhat . . . I don't know . . . philosophical about this change in me. I looked at the stuff in there for sale and thought how astonishing these seven blocks would be to someone from a third world country. Or even to someone from this country a hundred and fifty years ago. My daughter is reading a biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder, and looking through the Christmas store, I remembered the Christmases she described in her books -- getting one small toy item and a candy stick that they sucked a little bit every day for weeks to make it last. The Christmas feast that would hardly seem like a hearty meal for some of us. I don't remember her mentioning decorations at all.

Laura would have walked through this Christmas store with her jaw on her chest. The very idea that people could have as many Christmas decorations as they do and still walk through this place wanting even more.

When there are people not eating. When there are people dying of curable diseases. When there are children who can't read. I've just lost my appetite for more stuff in my life when there are so many uses for my money that could actually make an eternal difference in humanity.

But then again, maybe it's really only about not having more to dust.

Lovin' Technology Today

My first significant trip away from home, away from family, was a week at church youth camp some summer in the middle of my junior high years. I remember being very nervous before we left and very nervous for the first couple days when everything was new and awkward. But by the middle of the week, I was adjusting to new stuff, even the stuff I didn't like (public bathrooms with mass showers? Ew . . . ), and having a great time. But by my last night there, I was done, ready to be home again, which is a good point to get homesick if you're going to.

My youngest had her first big trip away from us last week: a week in Washington D.C. with her class at school. They stayed at a bed and breakfast outside of the metro area and took day trips to Mount Vernon, Gettysburg, and three times into the D.C. mall area. They saw the Capitol, the National Archives, the Supreme Court building, the Library of Congress, the Smithsonian's U.S. History Museum, the Crime Museum, Arlington Cemetery, and several memorials around the area. And probably more that I'm not remembering now.

They had an amazing whirlwind trip, and my daughter loved it. She also was homesick and ready to be done by the last night, but it was a great experience for her.

But the big difference? Cell phones. And social media.

When I was at camp that week, I had NO CONTACT with my parents. None. I sent them a letter while I was there, but I think I got home before the letter did. That was hard on me, but now I'm thinking about how hard that was on my parents. To have no idea what I was doing, how I was doing, if I was enjoying myself or miserable, if I was sick or injured . . . were they stressed out? I wish I could ask.

My daughter, however, had her cell phone with her. We were able to text her at almost any time during any day and find out exactly how she was doing. She and several others from the group posted photos to Facebook every day, so we knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going and what she was seeing and how much fun she was having. Her dad was even able to send her a short video of her dog when she started missing him.

And I'm wondering, is that better than a week with no contact? I'm sure it was easier for her (and us), but was it better? Did I get something out of that week of complete separation in junior high that was good for me (and maybe my parents) and that would have been good for her (and us) to experience? Might we all have learned to worry less and trust more if we had been forced to let go of each other more completely for that week?

Maybe. But right now, I'm just grateful as all get-out for cell phones.

Drinking in Mexico

I'm back! I wasn't expecting to take this hiatus from blogging, but I had very unreliable internet access while I was in Cozumel last week, so I took a week off.  And because . . . you know . . . I was in Cozumel.

Which was nice, but sounds a little more exciting than it was for us. It was kind of a business trip -- a reward thing for the company's brokers and such, and we got to go along. So, although the weather was lovely and the ocean was nice and we got to golf, get a massage, and take a submarine trip to look at the coral reef, our evenings were spent in long dinners socializing with people. Nice people, but hubby and I aren't social butterflies really (we much preferred our time alone or with just each other).

Mainly, though, I couldn't appreciate the trip as much as many of the others did because I don't Drink. Now, I do drink -- a bit. I can sip a glass of wine with dinner. I discovered that I like pina coladas on this trip (I don't like pineapple or coconut, so I never tried one). But I simply drink . . . on occasion.

But many of these people Drink. Not that anyone got wasted or anything (at least, not while we were around, but we went to bed and others partied on, apparently). But for a good number of these people, alcohol seemed to be their focus for the week.

Example: on New Year's Eve, our evening event was to start at 7pm. When hubby and I got there at about 7:15, only a handful of people were milling around, which we thought was very odd. Turns out, they didn't start serving alcohol until 7:30, so everybody went over to the bar to get drinks until then.

Now, I don't mean to sound judgmental if I do. These people were on vacation, they were away from children and with their significant others (for the most part), and nobody was having to drive anywhere. They seemed to be drinking responsibly, so there's no reason they shouldn't have been drinking -- especially on New Year's Eve. I have no moral issue with what was happening amongst our little group in Mexico last week.

I bring this up merely because this is a cultural thing I really can't relate to: Drinking. Centering your evening's (or afternoon's) activities around the beverage in your hand. I have friends who I know plan their entire weekends around opportunities to consume alcohol. I just don't get that.

Most likely, this is because I've never drunk enough alcohol to even get a buzz.  True fact. I grew up in a Southern Baptist home where alcohol was simply unacceptable. Never drank in college. Never even interested in trying anything alcoholic, really, until I'd been to enough of my husband's business events to start feeling really uncomfortable being the only one in the room with soda in my glass. (One thing I'll say for the people in hubby's more recent companies vs. companies he's worked for in the past: they don't seem to take any notice of what's in your glass. It's been several years since I felt like the oddball church lady at a work event while I sipped my Sprite.)

Maybe if I got good and tipsy once, I'd see the appeal. But I doubt it. I've seen enough people I liked and respected turn into idiots at parties; I have no interest in chancing that. And I've yet to see anyone whose personality improved after the application of significant amounts of alcoholic beverage. It would be very upsetting to me, frankly, to find that I needed the help of inebriation to be an engaging person to others. And if I need the help of inebriation to enjoy the environment I'm in . . . well, I'll go home.

I also don't like the taste of alcohol enough to drink enough of it to affect me. I did like those pina coladas, but after two, I couldn't drink any more. I was desperate for ice water. El agua, por favor!!

So, to sum up, I drink -- occasionally -- but I don't Drink. And I don't expect ever to do so. I still hold to a conclusion I came to during my college years: there is nothing beneficial you get from alcohol which cannot be gotten from another source that is not responsible for the destruction of lives on a regular basis.

Just sayin'.  Cheers. And Happy New Year!

Define Your Audience

On our drive home from a weekend visit in Kansas yesterday (and it was a lo-o-ong drive, I'm tellin' you), I saw a couple huge billboards up next to a church:

"THE KING IS COMING! ARE YOU READY?"

"PRAY AND ASK JESUS TO COME INTO YOUR HEART AND LIVE!"

Now, I essentially agree, of course, with the sentiments of these messages, but as we sped past them down the busy I-35 corridor through Texas, I had to wonder who exactly their intended audience was.

Because the only people who could really make any sense out of this message (beyond the vague idea that here are some Bible-thumpers trying to save my soul) are people who have had enough exposure to church and Bible-teaching to know what King they're talking about and what's involved in being ready for him. They would also need to have some idea of what it means to ask Jesus to come into your heart.

I suppose it's possible that random Unchurched Harry and Mary could be headed down from the Cowboys game, see the sign and say to each other, "King? There's a king coming? I don't know what that means, but I'm sure I'm not ready! Should we pray and ask Jesus to come into our heart, whatever that means? Yeah -- better safe than sorry." But would anyone really think such a "confession of faith" is legit?

No, really, the only people such signs are going to be effective with are those who have grown up in the church and wandered away and are in a place where God is convicting them and wooing them back and this gives the final push at the right moment. Not that there isn't value in that, but I don't know that they're getting a lot of bang for their buck with those billboards.

My friend in NJ used to talk about this being the first post-Christian generation in America.  That rankled me a bit at the time, but I think he's right.  A couple generations ago, someone you were witnessing to might disagree with your assertion that Jesus Is The Answer, but they would at least know the Question. Not so today.

The seeker-focused church model has something going for it in that it assumes a post-Christian generation and starts from there. The traditional church needs to pay attention to that. But the seeker-focus unfortunately can go too far by trying to attract the seeker not with Christ, but with the seeker's own idols. We cease, at that point, to be a Christian church and become simply a spiritual social service club.

We're still looking for a church here in San Antonio.  My prayer is for a church full of genuine worshippers -- not a spiritual social service club.

On the Road Again

The first post I posted on this blog was on October 8th, 2008.  I wrote it from a hotel in Somerset, PA on the first night of our trip driving from New Jersey to our new home in Sioux City.  I realized that last night as I talked to a friend about our leaving Sioux City today for our trek to our new home, San Antonio.

Something feels a little surreal about that.

I started this blog strictly for a way to keep our Jersey friends informed about our new lives, so I didn't have to write fifty or sixty emails to all the people who wanted to know how we were settling in.  Certain topics invited more personal reflection on my part, and I soon got feedback on those posts that my friends were really liking them.  My pastor even read part of one during a sermon, I was told.  So when I got to the point that we were settled in and there wasn't much transitioning to be reporting about, I let the blog kind of evolve into something of a public journal . . . fully expecting to lose most of my readers.

I didn't.  And as the years have gone by, I've gained many, many more.  I've said this over and over: I never cease to be amazed that there's anyone out there who is interested in the weird workings of my brain. 

So this blog has, in a sense, helped define my time in Sioux City. Now that I'm leaving, it makes me wonder if anything will change in the blog.  I was tempted to sit down last night and read through all of my posts, just to relive my Sioux City experience . . . but there's 652 of them, and I've got too much packing and cleaning to do.  But just glancing through some of the titles reminds me of how much I -- and the rest of my family -- have grown and changed over these five years.

I'm going to cry as I drive away today.  Closing doors and ending seasons is always hard.  And I have a daughter who will be grieving in a serious way who will need my strength and comfort.  But we've done this before, and God has always been faithful.

And in all honesty . . . I can not WAIT to see what God has in store for us in San Antonio!!

Abraham and Tent Living

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he didn't know where he was going.  (Hebrews 11:8)

This is a very personal verse for me this week.  The job situation with hubby has come to a point where we've been figuratively on our faces before God asking for clear direction as to where He wants us to go.  Examining our own hearts, trying to empty ourselves of our own agendas so we can be completely submissive to his direction.  Wherever, Lord . . . just point us the way.  Shut every other door tightly.

When you read the Abraham story, it seems that God essentially told Abraham to start walking and He would tell him when to stop.  Wow.  Oh, to have faith like that!  Excuse me a moment while I get a mental and emotional picture of what that means and try to apply it to my heart today.  Just start walking, hon . . .

The rest of this Abraham section (the first of three about Abraham in Hebrews 11) has been speaking to me for a few weeks now: By faith, he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country.  He lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise . . .

They lived in tents -- no permanent dwelling.  Ready to get up and move at a moment's notice.  Yes, he made his home there, but as a stranger in a foreign land.  We've been preparing our hearts for a move from Sioux City for over ten months now.  I can relate to this feeling.  Our home is here, for now, but it's not a permanent dwelling.  We are attached and yet unattached.  It's kind of an odd feeling.

But it's how Abraham, Isaac and Jacob all lived.  And why?  For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  The city with foundations -- that would be heaven.  The writer of Hebrews expounds on this more a few verses later, making some general comments about all of the faith heroes he's describing:

. . . and they admitted they were foreigners and strangers on earth.  People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own.  If they were talking about the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return.  Instead, they were longing for a better country -- a heavenly one.  Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

My past several months of "living in tents" as a "stranger and foreigner" in my own land of Sioux City has given me insight to how believers should be living all the time here on earth.  This is a temporary dwelling.  A place we should enjoy and bless while we're here, but always with an eye toward the "city with foundations" that God is preparing for us.  The better country.

Those times in my life when I feel a persistent dissatisfaction, a gaping hole, a never-ending longing for I don't know exactly what . . . I try to remember that this feeling shouldn't surprise me. I'm a stranger in this country.  This is not my real home.  My citizenship is elsewhere. 

And thank God, there will be no political campaigns in the heavenly city with foundations.  Hallelujah.

Ho-o-o-ome . . .

A parting shot with the
neighbor's dog

The trip home.  Wow. 

Not only did we spend about nine hours driving across Panama through two thunderstorms (which made it all the more difficult for hubby to see where he was going)....

Not only does the Panama City airport have the craziest rental car return system we've ever seen (just pull up to the curb somewhere near the arrivals area, where everyone and their dog is trying to leave, go in and get someone from the rental car company -- our guy didn't speak English -- and have him check the car over, right there in the midst of the madness . . . it was just nuts).

Not only did our first flight get delayed by an hour and a half -- leaving at 3:30am instead of 2am....

Not only did we wait in ridiculously long, slow-moving lines to get through customs at Ft. Lauderdale . . . with one scary-looking idiot leaving his bag unattended at the beginning of each loop of the line maze, even after the airport official specifically told another woman nearby, loudly and clearly, not to do that and reminded her of all the reasons why that was dangerous to herself (someone could put something in there that you would take the rap for) and everyone else (he'd have to clear the room for a bomb threat check) -- and making the rest of us sleep-deprived travelers around him very annoyed and a bit nervous about his behavior....

Not only did we miss our second flight and get moved to another airline in another terminal at Ft. Lauderdale (although I must say, we were grateful for that -- Spirit Airlines' next flight to Chicago wasn't until 4pm)....

Not only did THAT flight get delayed for two and a half hours....

Not only did we have to go through security three different times .....

Not only did we spend hours and hours hanging out in two different airports, trying unsuccessfully to get at least a little sleep....

Not only did we arrive in Chicago right in the middle of rush hour....

Not only did hubby then drive another eight or nine hours straight -- through two more thunderstorms....

But WOULD YOU BELIEVE -- at 1:30 in the morning, at a Shell station just outside of Omaha, we just happened to run into . . . the Ferneaus!!  Our Sioux City friends who just moved a few weeks ago to Burlington, Iowa.  They were rushing back to Sioux City because their oldest daughter is about to have their first grandchild.  But can you believe that??  The Ferneaus -- at a gas station in Omaha -- at 1:30am.  It was positively surreal.

In any case, we arrived home at about 3am after about 42 hours of straight travel with very little sleep, and we spent yesterday recovering.  I expect today will be a recovery day as well. 

And yet, not a single Kandt head was bitten off during the entire 42-hour ordeal.  Wow.  That's the real story.

Random Observations . . .

A big, BEAUTIFUL flower in our neighbor's yard

- It’s a pain in the rear to find a place you want to go here.  There are no “addresses”.  Houses and buildings are not numbered.  Streets have names, but rarely have street signs.  Even when you ask for directions, you get, “Do you know where the bank is?  How about Big Daddy’s Grill?”  They tell you, "Go this way, and this way, and down this street, and it's right there."  And then it rarely is.  Or it's poorly marked.  Or it's not open.  Pain in the rear.

- Even if you think you know where you're going, it's difficult to get around.  The roads are two-lane, and people are walking everywhere in town with little regard for oncoming traffic.  Vehicles just stop anywhere . . . one way streets are not labeled . . . it’s tough to find a place to park, and when you do, you’re very likely tilted at a 45-degree angle.  And outside of town, some of the roads are in pretty decent shape, but others are just horrendous.  Really.  Horrendous. Although we're told they're going to be fixed . . .

- There are taxis everywhere, and they’re apparently very cheap.  The woman we ate lunch with said her daughter takes a taxi home from town for $1.50.  I anticipate using taxi service A LOT if we live here. 

- It really does a number on your brain after a while when nobody speaks your language. 

- My hair is curly in the humidity.  I don't know when my hair got so naturally curly.

- Stray dogs roam all over the place here.  And even dogs with owners run around everywhere.

Eating at Pio Pio -- a Panamanian KFC wannabe

- We are much more dependent on fast food than we realized.  For lunch, the girls and I so wanted to just grab a bit of something and eat at the casita.  No place to grab and take anything.  Many, many restaurants – all sit-down.  We did try a Panamanian fast food place called Pio Pio in David, 30 minutes away – not too bad.  And last night, we finally found a "fast-food" place in kind of a shack downtown here in Boquete -- "Milqueburger", it was called.  But it opens at 4pm and closes when they run out of food.  We were warned to not plan on eating there after 5.  But it had tasty burgers and fried chicken.

- Our dependency on cell phones -- that we're quite aware of.  We have no cell phone service in Panama, and it’s amazing how often that has been a source of stress for us. 

- At the movie theater in David, most movies have Spanish subtitles.  But “children’s” movies (Ice Age 4, Madagascar 3, etc.) are dubbed – I guess because they don’t count on kids being able to read the subtitles. 

- It rains every afternoon here.  Such is life during the rainy season.  But the mornings are gorgeous, and the rain has usually stopped by evening.

- As the week has gone on, I've slept better and better.  Last night, I think I slept for 7 or 8 hours and I don't remember waking up that much.

- We still don't know if this is the place for us.  Our youngest definitely wants to live in Panama.  Our oldest is determined she will NOT live in Panama.  Hubby and I are still up in the air.


I've found myself an interesting psychological study while we've been here.  :)  On one hand, I've been amazed at how easy-going and peaceful I've been about things.  As I've noted before, I'm not a spontaneous, go-with-the-flow kind of person.  I don't like the feeling of things being out of my control, and I don't feel in control of much here.  But I don't have that constant underlying feeling of panic that I've had at other times in my life.  A sign of spiritual growth?  Maybe.

On the other hand, I do have my moments.  I fought mild panic yesterday when hubby was much later than we expected getting back from a meeting, and I had no idea how to get a hold of him or how to find someone who could help me find him.  And I cried for a moment after one daughter voiced yet another complaint of a series I'd heard from her that morning. 

It will feel good to be home.  But I can see the possibility of this being home someday, if the Lord leads us here.

Two Days In

Killing time at O'Hare
What would be do without technology?

Daughter #1: WE are in a CAR in PANAMA at 2:30 in the morning.
Daughter #2:  Whoa!  How'd I get here?  That must have been some party!!

That pretty much sums up our first two days of travel.

Lots of driving . . . a weak Disney Channel movie in the hotel Wednesday night . . . lots of wait time in the airport yesterday . . . no free drinks or snacks on Spirit airline! (We had to pay for each carry-on bag, too -- what up with that?  Guess that's why the flight fares were so low.)

Emotional climax of the trip (for me, so far): filling out the immigration and customs paperwork on the flight from Ft. Lauderdale.  It was late at night and I was tired, so that may account for the emotion.  But I had a quick rush of, "Arggh!  I don't know what this means!  This is complicated and official and scary and I want to be home in my bed!"  A chemical brain fart, I believe.  I took a deep breath and was fine.

Emotional anti-climax:  actually arriving in Panama City.  As the earlier quote indicates, it was the middle of the night.  It was too dark to see much of anything, and we were tired.  I'm looking forward to seeing things today.


Not that I'm not still tired.  Didn't have a great night's sleep last night.  But I did sleep some, which is always better than none, and I think hubby is doing all the driving today.  Off we go, into the hot, humid yonder!  :) 

And Off We Go . . .

We leave today. We arrive in Panama City tomorrow night – actually in the wee early hours of Friday morning .  And we pull in to Boquete Friday around dinnertime.  This is it.  The Big Trip.

I’m trying not to feel pressure about this.  Trying to forget that the purpose of this visit is to make a monumental decision about our and our children’s futures.  No stress.  Just a vacation.  What am I worried about?



I love this picture.  "Security Checkpoint" --
as in, "Check your sense of security here."

Here’s what I’m worried about.  Number one: I’m worried about traveling.  Being in Boquete for a week should be cool. However, getting to Boquete is likely to be exhausting.  Drive to Iowa City . . . hotel . . . drive to Chicago . . . evening flight to Ft. Lauderdale and then Panama City . . . get a rental car in the middle of the night . . . find the hotel, check in and try to sleep . . . wake up, breakfast with a contact person there, then drive seven hours to Boquete . . . I’m stressed just thinking about it.  I’m afraid we’ll be grouches.  I’m afraid one of us will kill another of us before we get there.  That wouldn’t set the stage for a pleasant visit.

Number two: I’m worried that we’ll decide this isn’t what God wants us to do and all our friends who are all psyched and excited about the possibilities here will be let down.  Isn’t that stupid?  I had to write that here just to look at it and see how ridiculous it is.  I’m afraid that God’s will for our lives will be disappointing to other people.  Psshhht.  Actually, I'm probably more afraid that they'll be disappointed in us if we decide not to go:  they'll think we’re flaky . . . that we wimped out . . . you know . . .

Number three:  I’m afraid we still won’t be able to discern God’s will clearly after the trip.  As luck would have it, Keith has recently had more job opportunities pop up, and some are rather inviting.  One in Virginia – an awesome place to live and study Colonial times and the Civil War in the next couple years.  A couple in Texas – a great state to have residency in if we choose to go to Panama at a later date, and a great state to homeschool in.  We’ve kind of debated whether a few more years of employment here in the States might make the Panama idea more financially comfortable . . . ugh.  SOMEbody just had to complicate things for us.

But I’m trying to forget all that.  If nothing else comes of it, a week with our family living in a small home in a small town in Central America should be a fascinating life experience.  I want to concentrate on that – what this trip can do for us now, not just what it means for our future. 

I expect to blog as we go, so check back for updates.  And as always, prayers are much appreciated!

Good Move

We just returned last night from a few days in New Jersey in our old stomping grounds (although my daughter insists she never stomped there. I beg to differ. I remember the toddler years.).

I had forgotten how many trees there were in Jersey. Kind of miss those. I had NOT forgotten how terrible the fraffic is. I do NOT miss that.

We spent an afternoon at Clementon Park and Splash World. Got a little bit of sun. Spent a few hours at Franklin Institute, one of the best museums in the country. Went to church Sunday morning (although we missed our old pastor who was on vacation). Spent an afternoon at the pool with some friends. Got a little too much sun. Spent an afternoon at the shore at Ocean City. Got significantly too much sun. :)

But the bulk of our time was spent just sitting around, talking to friends. How wonderful it was! Wish we could pack up some of those friends and ship them to Sioux City. Because as nice as it was to visit, the trip really confirmed to me what a good move this was for our family. The girls have grown so much here . . . Keith is so much more relaxed . . . I've found the writing/directing niche where I feel God has called me, at least for now. It was almost unbearably painful to leave three years ago, but the whole thing has served to remind me that God is in control and we can trust how he directs our lives.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Yes, we're home again. Sorry for the lack of posts during the rest of our vacation, but between a cold I caught from Eastin and the increasing lack of sleep as the week progressed, I wasn't up to thinking and writing at the hotels each night. So, let me try a quick run-down of the rest of our trip....

- Yellowstone: Beautiful, really. Especially the Canyon -- and Old Faithful was a cool sight, too. But my full enjoyment of it was spoiled by the size of the place and the lousy roads trying to cover it. Lousy as in slow. To their credit, they know they're lousy roads and they're in the process of improving them, but right now, the construction just added to the frustration of getting around such a huge place. Winding, two-lane roads with wimpy drivers afraid to move above 20mph and not thoughtful enough to pull over occasionally to let faster vehicles by (as the road signs suggest) already make for hours on the road trying to get to the next beautiful site. Construction didn't help.

- White-water rafting: Yes, friends, I went white-water rafting. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't had to paddle, but I still enjoyed it -- probably one of my top three activities for the trip. We all enjoyed it, but Eastin the most. She jumped into the water to swim twice (and this was bitter freezing cold water, folks) and was hoping she would fall in while going through one of the rapids. Her mother was infinitely relieved that she did not.

- Frontier Days Rodeo in Cheyenne: This is the largest outdoor rodeo in the country -- a week-long event -- and probably one of the most fun rodeos I've ever attended. But my favorite moment was the national anthem. A young girl was singing it and her voice was absolutely fantastic. I'm getting more emotional with age, it seems, and I always tear up a bit during the national anthem. But when this sweet little girl was done singing, she ran into the arms of a grown-up nearby (a parent, I assumed) and fell into tears, clearly overwhelmed by the power of singing that song in front of 12,000 screaming, appreciative patriots. And then I started to really cry. Keith and the girls kept looking at me, asking, "Are you okay?" Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit ferclempt, thank you very much.

The only really bad part of the trip . . . my miserable sleeping. I had to take my max of medications every night, and that still didn't keep me in slumberland for more than a few hours. I'm calling the sleep specialist again this week. Wish I could do so with more optimism.

Day Four . . .

Still vacationing . . . and we've seen a lot.

- Mt. Rushmore: Beautiful. Inspiring. Just what you would expect. But we went back in the evening to see the night show, and that was very disappointing. Plus then, we had to fight the ridiculous crowd to get out of the parking garage.

- Crazy Horse Memorial: We didn't actually go in -- it was $27 per vehicle (Rushmore was only $10!). But you could see it from the highway. I wanted to see it because when I was here as a child, they only had the smallest of starts on it. Cool to see the progress. But they finished Rushmore in 12 years or so -- I wonder why Crazy Horse is taking so long?

- Jewel Cave: The second longest cave in the world. We did the "Scenic Tour". Beautiful down there! Our favorite part was the "cave bacon", a 25-foot long something-or-other that looked exactly like bacon.

- Trail ride: Mostly for Leslie, our horse girl. The girls loved it. I must have been sitting wrong somehow -- my knees and ankles were killing me! I could hardly walk for a few minutes after we got off.

- Chuckwagon barbecue: beef, beans, baked potato, peach half, biscuit, gingerbread . . all served up on a tin plate with lemonade in a tin cup. And then a show of cowboy music. An entertaining evening!

- Deadwood: We did the walking tour . . saw where Wild Bill Hickok was shot . . read about panning for gold . . walked through a mediocre museum . . since we weren't interested in gambling, there didn't seem to be much for us here.

- The Bighorn Mountains: while driving across Wyoming to Cody. Oh. My. Goodness!!! I do believe this was the most beautiful scenic drive I've ever been on. Absolutely gorgeous!!!

The next two days are devoted to Yellowstone. More to come.....

Our First Family Vacation!

We left yesterday for our first real family vacation. That sounds kind of pathetic . . . you see, while we lived in NJ, all of Keith's time off was spent coming back to Kansas to see family. The girls and I did a few "field trips" together, but Keith was never able to join us. This is Kandt Klan Travel Experience Number One.

And it's going well! We've hit four destinations so far.

1) De Smet, SD -- the setting of the last five Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Personally, I was very excited about this. "Look! It's the Brewster schoolhouse! It's the huge, well-stocked pantry in the surveyor's house! It's the whatnot . . the china shepherdess . . the schoolhouse where Laura rocked the desk . . . the house Pa built after Laura left . . " Yeah, I was probably kind of annoying. There was more I wanted to see -- like, the site of Laura and Almanzo's first house, and the five cottonwood trees Pa planted for Ma -- but Keith was being very patient. We moved on to . . .

2) The Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD. A huge auditorium in the process of being decorated on the exterior with various local grains for a big festival this fall, as is done every year and has been for over a century, I believe. Kind of have to see this to appreciate it. And now that I've seen and appreciated it, I think I'm done with it.

3) The Badlands. Wow. Seriously, wow! They are beautiful! And we're going to drive back tonight to see them in the setting sun, with the shadows and all. But I did learn that I am even more afraid of heights than I realized. At one scenic outlook stop, you could walk out to the edge of the cliffs to look out over the valley. Keith and the girls kept going a little further. And a little further. And I kept saying, "Stop. Stop! STOP!" I really couldn't stand it. I had to turn around and walk away -- I just couldn't watch. Hyperventilating and heart palpitations. Ohhhhh.

4) Wall Drug Store. If you haven't heard of this, you probably won't understand us making a specific stop at a drug store in a small South Dakota town. But this is no ordinary drug store. It's an international phenomenon. There are signs for it everywhere, even in Europe. The place fills up a city block. A restaurant, a snack bar, an ice cream parlor and a fudge kitchen. Touristy merchandise, western clothes and artwork, cheesy photo op spots. A traveler's chapel, a bookstore, a jewelry shop, a place to pan for gold or precious stones, an animatronic T Rex that comes up to "feed" every 12 minutes. Kitschy and almost as corny as the corn palace. But it was still fun.

Tomorrow we do the Black Hills: Mt. Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, a tour of Jewel Cave, and a Chuckwagon Barbecue and Trail Ride. It will be a busy day, but I'm looking forward to it!

Getting Away

I'm back, folks. I know I haven't written in a while. I was enjoying a nice, long weekend away with my hubby. He had a business trip in Tucson, and I was able to go along on this one. His parents were gracious enough to drive up and stay with the girls. Getting things ready to leave was an eye-opener in itself, all the stuff I had to write down for them to know. Car pool comes at 7:15 . . bus comes at 8:10 . . give the dog his meds before bed . . put the recycling out at the curb Thursday night . . make sure Eastin gets a shower these nights . . lots of details to our lives that I have stored away in my head.

Anyway, they managed fine and we got away to Tucson and the desert. Keith has always said he wants to spend his winters in Arizona when he retires. Golfing, you know. It was lovely terrain around Tucson, but I think if I lived there, I would tire of it. Or I guess I would long for some of what I'm used to around here. Sick as I am of snow right now, I would miss it if I never had any.

This trip was a reward trip for high performing salesmen at Blue Bunny. Keith's not in sales -- he's in marketing. But he's enough of a "higher-up" that he got to go along. We stayed at a two-month-old Ritz-Carlton north of town, nestled in the mountains. Fanciest hotel I've been in in a LONG time. Our bathroom looked like a museum. Felt like a desecration to pee there.

Keith got to play golf on Friday. I went on a desert jeep tour. We had Saturday to ourselves, and that was the highlight of the trip: simply being alone with my husband. I miss that. I mean, I love my kids and I was happy to get back home to them, but heavens -- couple time alone is a precious commodity these days. We didn't even have to do anything exciting. We spent a lot of time laying in bed, watching the Olympics. But it was wonderful.

So, you'll have to forgive me for not blogging on the trip. I'm sure you understand.

The Most Magical Place on Earth

So . . I've been away for a while at Disney. My FB friends may have noted on my status before I left that I was unsure of how much I would enjoy this trip -- not big on crowds, or heat, or bratty kids, or parents who fail to keep their bratty kids in line. But I was pleasantly surprised by many things on this trip. I'll list a few:

1) The LACK of crowds -- which was the reason we picked Labor Day week to go. My Disney freak friend Meredith said it's the deadest week of the year there, and I don't doubt her now. After Labor Day Monday, we hardly had any lines of any kind. Sweet.

2) Disney seriously does this stuff well. Disneyworld is one monstrosity of a resort size-wise, but they have it running like clockwork. Everything was about as easy as it could be, considering. For example, our room keys served as our admission tickets to the parks, as make-shift credit cards that we could charge pretty much anything to, and as our meal cards to get food at restaurants and food stands throughout the resort (plus we got a free meal deal for visiting this week! I repeat -- sweet!)

3) There's simply no way I could work at Disney -- I'm not cheerful enough. I've never seen so many nice people one place, especially in the service industry. And really, if you're a person who just loves to perform -- sing, dance, etc. -- and who doesn't have any hang-ups or attitude about needing to do highbrow stuff, Disney is heaven. There have to be thousands of performing jobs. But again, you have to be the cheerful type. Plastic smiles required.

4) Amazing shows. The main street electrical parade (or whatever they're calling it now) was beautiful. The fireworks displays at Magic Kingdom and Epcot were awesome. The Lion King show was really exciting (and Eastin got pulled out of the audience to participate). And I thought the puppetry in the Finding Nemo show was absolutely gorgeous.

5) Most surprising of all, I was amazed at how unannoying the general public was. Other than the two women behind me at the Magic Kingdom parade the first night who started arguing and spoiled about a third of the parade for everyone around them . . . people were generally polite and decent. Able-bodied folks gave up their seats on the bus for children and elderly. Parents, for the most part, made their children behave. I even saw a couple strangers jump in and help some women struggling to lift their handicapped companion out of a ride. I usually hate places like this because they remind me of how overall jerkish the human race can be. But humanity was redeemed in my eyes this week. Made me wonder what was in the water.

However, I was wondering about myself by the time we headed home. I caught myself in far too many eye-rolls over the course of the week. Perhaps I'm a bit too cynical ....? But that's a topic for another post . . .

Monday Morning

Just a quick catch-up on things while the girls are getting dressed . . .

We had a WONDERFUL weekend in Voorhees! I got to go to a surprise wedding shower for my friend Karen on Saturday -- SO great!!! We stayed the last two nights with our friends the Ellises (better known to some of you, probably, as Megan, Drew and Julianna's family). Eastin's been dying to see Drew. At home, she has a prayer journal from her Sunday School class with him at Hope last year. Between the pages of scriptures and prayers that her teacher had them write, she wrote little notes to Drew in class. Once in a while now, she gets that journal out, sits on her bed, and just turns through the pages, crying. "I miss Drew! He was my first friend!" It's rather heart-breaking.

We soaked in every moment we could at Hope Church yesterday morning. Then I had a bite of lunch with friends Lauree and Randy and had the privilege of sitting and picking Randy's brain for a while after that. I miss Randy -- my personal mentor. I feel sometimes like I should be paying him for all the information, insight and encouragement he gives me (he'd probably appreciate that!). Maybe he should become a Personal Coach . . . HA! Sorry -- if he reads that, he may just run for the hills. :)

Last night, Debi and I took the girls to see the Hannah Montana movie. It was . . . okay. I don't know why they can't make movies like that with more plausible plots. Yes, I realize the entire Hannah Montana premise is less than believable . . . and I know that the goal here was mass marketing, not great art . . . but still. Throw us mommies a bone, huh? If I don't get that "Hoedown Throwdown" song out of my head, I may shoot myself. But I still love "The Climb". And she sang a sweet little song with her dad, too.

We're leaving here in a few minutes for Boston. Well, technically for Plymouth -- that's where we're staying. I'm NOT looking forward to the drive. Maneuvering around the NYC area is not a good time. So, if you read this on Monday, say a quick prayer for me. Or, if you read it later, pray anyway -- I have to drive back on Friday, too!

Home, Sweet Voorhees

The girls and I arrived in the Philly airport at about noon today. Then we rented a car and braved the traffic for the drive in to Voorhees. I've been wondering for a few days what it was going to be like to be back here in our old stomping grounds, if it would feel great or feel miserable.

The verdict? It was downright spooky. For a while there, I started wondering if I'd dreamed the last six months we spent in Sioux City. It felt like I'd been driving these streets just yesterday . . getting Taco Bell . . cashing a check at the Commerce Bank drive-thru . . it couldn't POSSIBLY have been six months!

But then we passed our house -- well, the house that was formerly known as ours. We're spending the next two nights with our former next-door neighbors, so we had to drive by our old place to get there. I almost turned into our old driveway, but then I saw them -- the new owners, father and daughter out working on the lawn. It was surreal.

The new owners are very nice people. We met them before we left and kind of gave them the lowdown on everything in the house. They sympathized with our girls having to leave behind the swings that their grandfather built for them (they're attached to trees in the backyard -- no trees in our new yard for them even if we took them with us). They even told the girls that they would always think of those as "Leslie and Eastin's swings". Very, very nice people.

I'm trying to decide if I want to see the house. I'm sure she wouldn't mind letting us look around. Actually, I'm not trying to decide -- I know that I want to see the house. For me, I think it would close some doors. This is someone else's home now. See? They even painted the walls.

But I don't know how the girls would take it. That was the only home they knew until last October. It's likely to freak them out a little bit to have that piece of their past so quickly desecrated, already only a memory.

Well . . a visit hasn't even been suggested or offered yet, so I won't bring it up. We'll see what happens.

Travel Plans

The girls and I leave Wednesday and will be gone for two and a half . . almost three weeks. We promised this trip to the girls last fall to ease the pain of leaving New Jersey. Plus, it's the pits that we moved away from the east coast the year we got to colonial times and the Revolutionary War in history.

So, this week we're visiting sites in Philadelphia (Independence Hall, Franklin Court, Betsy Ross House, maybe the Constitution Center) and staying with two different friends. The next week we're driving up to Massachusetts (Boston, Plymouth Plantation, and Old Sturbridge Village), then back to Jersey to stay with another friend. Then two friends join us to drive down to Virginia (Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Jamestown). We'll pick up a friend in Delaware on the way back for birthday parties (the girls will turn 9 and 13 while we're gone) and a couple more nights with another friend before we leave on Monday, the 4th.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it all.

And excited. Don't get me wrong -- it will be great to see everyone again. I've been excited for a few weeks now (the girls have been excited since we left New Jersey in October). But this weekend, I got hit in the face with all the little details and it's a bit overwhelming. Plus, I'm not sleeping well again, and after a weekend of Keith's family here . . . I'm a vegetable. Just sitting on the couch, surfing the web, writing a blog, occasionally getting up to get sheets out of the dryer. I feel like I'm braindead.

But three days from now, I'll be driving to Voorhees from Philly in all that traffic -- and I darn well better wake up then!

I don't know how much I'll blog while we're gone . . . I'm hoping to write once in a while, but if you don't hear from me until May, you'll know why. I shall return . . .