A Very Long Time Ago

March 2022

On our last night in Sandpoint, we were frantically unpacking until late at night. We had to drive to several different storage units and fix what we could of the terrible packing job.  

The movers we hired were really roofers and they tossed our belongings like they were roofing. 

While working, we had a surprise visit from our elderly neighbor, Del (the one who had a tooth pulled and was stuck behind Peter).   As he walked into our mudpit, he reached out his arms for a side hug and asked, “How you doing, kid?”  

I nestled into his 6 ft 4 frame, a man I’d never met in person, and said, “Not good,” as my eyes filled with tears.  What I didn’t know at the time was that I could have added, “But a little better now,” knowing not everyone on the mountain didn’t want us there, knowing someone knew this was hard and cared.

  

As we were saying good-bye to him in the dark, another neighbor walked by with her dog and we visited--another nice person.  She is also on our mountain for the same reasons as our family.  She is a nurse that lost her job due to mandates.  What?!  Are there that many of us or is it fate that we’d end up on the same remote mountain?*  



“You have to talk to her mom!” my son, Caleb, who is on a mission in Vancouver Washington urged.  So I called this stranger that my son had met his first few weeks on his mission and we connected and our kids began writing letters to each other.  They have seven kids, the same ages, homeschool, and moved to Idaho for the same reasons we did.  The kids have loved writing each other and it has made the move more exciting for them.  They had us over for dinner one of the last nights in Sandpoint and we had so many “me too” moments. 

Penpal friends wishing Eleanora a Happy Birthday!

I’ve had other “me too” moments with random strangers during our move.  Who knew I would find my people by talking about having no water and using a bucket.  While looking for sawdust in some little town in Montana, the gal over the phone starts talking to me about the finer points of composting human waste and my options.  Another clerk at a store finds me the perfect solution when I tell her our needs—a bunch of free bags of wood pellets since they were damaged.  

In Idaho, a gas station clerk finds out about our bucket-peeing ways and commiserated about how they’ve been using an outhouse for years.  I tell her about my mixing bowl chamber pot.  She doesn’t think I’m weird or disgusting.  Instead she tells me they do the same thing on cold nights and we laugh as she tells me she thinks her mother is dehydrated from how strong her pee smells. 

A gem of a neighbor, Al, is happy to help and has big toys.  Bulldozer?  Yes, please.  
I ask, “Will you you let me know when there’s no snow on the ground, so I know when we can come back?”  
“You bet!”
The next day I get a call from him and he jovially says, “Just calling to let you know there’s still snow on the ground.”  
We laughed, but what he was really saying is, “You are welcome and I’m here for you.”
Can I already love someone so soon?  I think I do.

One of the sweetest notes of encouragement I was given during this journey was by my sister, Jennifer.  She wrote on Aug 24, 2021

"I’m praying for your family. You created a beautiful life in the Marshall Islands. You created a beautiful life in New Mexico. You will create a beautiful life again somewhere new and you will be off on an exciting adventure. Change is sometimes sad, usually stressful, and yet so full of possibilities. I like to believe that you will be upgrading to an even better life that fills you with even more joy than you have found in New Mexico."

I keep this post-it with the stages of grief in my folder

I still don’t know how we’re going to do it all.  I still don’t know if we can afford anything with the costs soaring and supply chain issues.  I’m still grieving.  Grieving for what we left and grieving for what we have to do, but I tell myself, “Empires fall, but people find a way.”  This month and especially this week has felt like a lifetime.  It was a very long time ago—last Monday.

The littles love making gifts for each other.  Asher's gift to Eleanora.

Eva's fish

SONG INSPIRATION
Trust in You by Elenyi

"Letting go of every single dream
I lay each one down at Your feet...
No matter what I face, You're by my side
When You don't move the mountains
I'm needing You to move
When You don't part the waters
I wish I could walk through
When You don't give the answers
As I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust
I will trust in You"

Georgia by Katie Pruitt
"I wanted to be honest
I wanted to be brave…
He thought if I told the world
They would not see me as the same girl
They'd say I don't belong
I don't belong
Well, that's where he's wrong"

Apocalypse Lullaby by The Wailin' Jennys
"Hurricanes will come
Earthquakes break the walls
Oceans rise
Empires fall
Enter world, light unshown
Follow heart, follow home
Here we are, light unshown
One round heart, one round home"

*Turns out it may be both, as we've met more and more like us during our adventures.

Brave, Little Fighter

Eleanora took this picture

March 2022

My husband held up my daughter’s unicorn piñata, the one we had been carefully transporting since Colorado.  He had it attached to a haphazard stick he found and handed my daughter another shorter, random stick.

“That doesn’t seem safe,” I said.

“We’ll find out soon,” he said nonchalantly.  

I laughed and replied, “That piñata is going to feel like us soon.  It’s going to have the crap beaten out of it.”

Turns out, his plan was perfectly safe.  After four days of sheer emotional misery, the sun finally made an appearance and life was still terrible, but each day was a little better than the last.  I’m glad we were able to glean a few moments of happiness for my 7th child’s 5th birthday amidst the grief and panic Peter and I were experiencing.  

Opening gifts

Eleanora showing her gifts to brothers via video call

She wanted a bundt cake, so we carried this pan around the country for weeks.  Her excitement was worth it.

Birthday Cake

Funny nose cups we've been meaning to use since Rachel's birthday, weeks ago

Piñata bashing

Birthday lunch and swimming

Newborn

A few hours old

Celebrating our daughter's life--our brave, little fighter--always puts trials in perspective.  I had six, home, water births and had hoped for the same with my seventh.  Unexpectedly, my water broke at 32 weeks pregnant and as my husband drove me to the hospital we wept at the possibility of losing this precious babe. 

I was able to keep her in for 6 more days, before giving birth at 33 weeks to a healthy, yet underdeveloped 5 lb 1 oz baby girl.  She spent three grueling weeks in the NICU and endured so much pain.  I have never been through anything so heart-wrenching and difficult.  

Sad little unicorn with a head IV

Another head IV--this one was worse because she could only nurse on one side

Tangle of cords

My sweet baby girl, is no longer a baby, but she's still our brave, little fighter.  We love you, Eleanora Skye! 

36 weeks old

SONG INSPIRATION

Show Me by Audrey Assad

I listened to this song on repeat during those three weeks in the NICU and every day the following months.   I come back to this song again and again whenever I feel both broken and hopeful.  

Show Me lyrics

You could plant me like a tree beside a river
You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild
And I would blossom like a flower in the desert
But for now just let me cry

You could raise me like a banner in the battle
Put victory like fire behind my shining eyes
And I would drift like falling snow over the embers
But for now just let me lie

Bind up these broken bones
Mercy bend and bring me back to life
But not before you show me how to die

Set me like a star before the morning
Like a sun that steals the darkness from a world asleep
And I'll illuminate the path You've laid before me
But for now just let me be

Bind up these broken bones
Mercy bend and bring me back to life
But not before You show me how to die
No, not before You show me how to die

So let me go like a leaf upon the water
Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea
And I will disappear into a deeper beauty
But for now just stay with me
God, for now just stay with me

Screaming Match

Looking for lost storage unit keys at 4 am

March 2022

I lost my voice in a screaming match with God. I know it could be worse and I’m grateful we’re healthy and strong but why does everything have to be so damn hard. 

We’re doing our best but our best isn’t enough. I hate not being enough. Mistake after mistake. $17k mistakes, to be exact, with little ones that add to the feeling of despair.

 

35 days of meticulous packing, but I’m not a superhero and I don’t think they’ll  withstand what they’ve been through and how they’re currently stored. Our belongings are spewed across towns in several different storage units because that’s all we could find.   I feel like I might as well have thrown our belongings in the mud and kicked them around. I won’t be surprise if half our stuff needs to be replaced. I know they’re just things  and material things don’t really matter—yada yada…but things keep you comfortable and things have to be replaced and things cost money.

 

All the stress pressing me into oblivion found me screaming at God. Feeling alone. Abandoned. Voice gone and palms hurt from pounding the wheel. No peace found today. I could list what I am grateful for, but still no relief: 

I learned how to do chains by myself today. 

I had good fish tacos.  

Not all our neighbors are assholes. 

Paid help is expensive, but at least they help.  

No one died. 

The end. 

I have to repeat this hell tomorrow. 

SONG INSPIRATION

The Sound of Silence performed by Disturbed

Born to Die by Kelly Clarkson

Brave Is What You Do

March 2022

It was a rainy, cold day in an industrial area of Spokane and I had been watching men shuffle our belongings from one truck to the other and feeling mostly useless.  I tried to grab something, but it was too high and too heavy, so Josiah helped me.  When he was done, I hugged him in the frigid metal trailer.  “Thank you for your strength. Sorry, I’m not strong,” I said into his chest.

Early that morning we left Rachel in charge of the children in our trailer in Sandpoint while we drove with Josiah two hours away to Spokane to unload the UPack trailers into UHaul trucks.  

Originally we were going to leave the van and come back for it on the 2nd trip, but it was a sketchy neighborhood.  It took four tries for them to find us a UHaul truck that had not had gas siphoned.  

I was trying to decide what to do, when one of the four movers we had hired to help said, “Why doesn’t he,” pointing to my 16-year-old son who has only ever driven in our small town, “drive your van?  He has to learn some time.”
Gulp.  

So we both did something scary…I drove a 26 foot UHaul truck for the first time and my son drove our 12-passenger van through rush-hour Spokane traffic and then on to rainy mountain roads in the dark.   We had no way to communicate with each other, because we had left our 2nd phone with the kids in the trailer.  I went in front, Peter in the back, while we cocooned our precious boy in the middle.
  
Driving a 26-foot truck for the first time—easy.  Having your child do something scary without you—hard.  Life is just doing stuff you don’t feel ready for.  Scared is how you feel. Brave is what you do.

I think we moved to the right place

A funny-find.  Some of our best friends left a surprise for us when they helped us pack in New Mexico.  It was a sweet token of friendship and love on a very difficult day.  FYI we are now set up with a lifetime supply of cascarones!

Our three Uhauls--mapping out our upcoming trip

Driving home from Spokane

Train Crossing for Asher

We had hoped to unload our belongs into the shipping containers.  A half load is all that made it up the mountain.  We had made arrangements with the "church" friend to help in case we got stuck again.  We did get stuck, but it only took 10 minutes to get unstuck, thanks to our friend's help.  

While unloading in the rain and mud, the "tractor" neighbor came stomping up and barked at Peter, "You better not be bringing any more trucks up here.  Some people are trying to get work done!"  Before Peter could respond he had already marched away.  Peter was flabbergasted.  Evidently, we had delayed a workman headed to his property.  I'm sorry we inconvenienced you for 10 minutes while we work in the mud and rain and are homeless.  Apparently, "tractor" neighbor is astonishingly selfish and lacks all empathy.  

We chose to unload the other three full Uhauls in various storage units that I scrambled to find throughout the valley--not just because of our neighbor's hostility, but because it was an almost impossible task getting up there and loading in the mud and rain.

Unloading in Elmira.  We also found storage in Sagle.

We were so grateful that the missionaries were able to help a couple of hours for our last load.

Spokane missionaries

Sandpoint missionaries

SONG INSPIRATION

The Light by Sara Bareilles

"No one knows where it ends

How it may come tumbling down

But I'm here with you now

I'm with you now

And hear you say, "We'll be alright"

I'm gonna trust you, babe

I'm gonna look in your eyes

And hear you say, "We'll be alright"

I'll follow you into the light

Let the world come rushing

Come down hard, come crushing

All I need is right here beside me"