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I’ve been back in America for two days. It’s only fair to offer you some deeply reflective post about our time overseas, our feelings about leaving, and our return home.

However, as I’m typing this on my new iPhone and preparing to run out the door for kiki’s bachelorette party, I’ll be brief.

Marcus, the girls, and I were truly blessed by the opportunity to live abroad. We grew as a family, in Christ, and as individuals because of our time overseas and the friends that became our family whole we loved there. There will never be the perfect words to express our love and thanks for that.

We return home, and it is just like coming home. But it’s us who’ve changed, and we know that we will carry the blessings of this experience with us always, ever changed by our time in England and our family there.

Whether you call it God’s will, providence, or karma, we know that this experience was in a bigger plan for our family and our future.

We’re home.

 

Easter Weekend

Easter Weekend began on Friday and ran through Monday, with a plethora of activities and events.  Marcus and I couldn’t believe how excited the girls were about Easter this year.

We made it a point to try to explain Easter to the girls in simple terms–we don’t want them to get the impression that the holiday is secular, or about candy.  The conversation was basic–that Jesus died on Good Friday, but not to be sad, because He rose from the dead on Easter Sunday because He is God.  Of course, they wanted to know if Ross’ dog Gus would wake up, too, but I think they were able to understand that Jesus is the only one who could do it.  Miscommunications aside, it truly was a precious conversation to share with my daughters.

We spent Holy Saturday with our friends the Carbols, the Susaks, and the Hammonds for a Mexican Easter feast.  The children dyed Easter Eggs, played together, and we all enjoyed some good food and some good company.

Easter Sunday was a beautiful day here in Yorkshire, and we went to church and then to a church potluck Easter brunch.  The food was delicious and abundant, and the companionship was amazing, too.  The girls participated in their first “real” Easter Egg Hunt, and left with full baskets and full tummies.

Marcus had to head off to work on Easter Monday, but the girls and I had a super day.  We headed to Valley Gardens where we met Auntie Anne and Uncle Phil, Sue, and Bob for a picnic and some frolicking round.  The girls burned off plenty of sugar-induced energy, while the grown-ups knitted, laughed, and watched.  I suspect that a good time was had by all.

So, Easter weekend was a full and blessed one for our family.  It was a special day, and led into many good-byes that we know are coming in the next week.

I know that I have said it before, and that I’ll say it again, but we truly are blessed by the family we have made overseas, and the family we have become because of our time overseas.

 

Blessed

Wishing you and yours a happy and blessed Easter season.

“He is risen; he is not here.”
– Mark 16:6

“I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.”
– John 11:25-26

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
– John 3:16 NIV

 

A Post of Tweets

• I’ve started to think in Tweets (less than 140 characters).  I thought a post full of them was appropriate.
• My mom left today.  I’m feeling miraculously alright–after all, I’ll see her again in less than 6 weeks!
• I have now finished three Malabrigo March projects, with another on the needles.  Whee!
• Planning to spend the day tomorrow with some good friends–thanks to my good husband.
• Tomorrow is my last time serving our parish with the Children’s Liturgy.  I am going to miss it.
• I wonder how many days in a row I can wear my Opulent Raglan before people start looking (sniffing) at me.
• Getting up before my kids, even though it seems counter intuitive, really does make for a better start to the day.
• I am planning to wind some yarn and start knitting my Brilliance Pullover this week.
• I’ve been blogging for a year now…a year!  How crazy is that?
• I caved and placed a rather large order for yarn last week.  It should be here in time for my birthday!
• Speaking of birthdays, I can’t stop listening to Tim McGraw’s (Phil Vassar’s) My Next Thirty Years.  Guess how old I’ll be on the 24th.
• Erica is up and watching Spongebob Squarepants, while Marcus and Samantha snooze away.
• I might go for a run today.  Then again, I might not.
• I really do love my life.

 

Prayers for Lent

I kicked off this Lenten season with a retreat at my church–the first such activity that I have ever done.

I won’t lie–I was incredibly nervous.  Especially when I read Anne Trufant’s bio and saw things about singing and guitar playing.  My friend Rachel insisted that Anne was a wonderful speaker and that it would be a blessed day, however, so I worked up the courage to step out of my comfort zone and attend.

I am so happy that I did.  The day was wonderful, and Anne really spoke to me on a personal level.  Though there were parts of the day that weren’t familiar to me, there were other parts of the day that I suspect I will carry with me always.  I never thought something like that was possible.

The theme for the day’s session was “The Eyes that See” and one thing we talked about was how when we pray, we are often wishy-washy.  But the blind man in the Bible knew just what he wanted–I want to see, Jesus.

It reminded me that I often flit about in my prayer.  God, help me be a good mother.  Help me be a better mother.  Help me learn to accept the mother that I am.  Help me do what’s right.  Help me stay cool and collected.  Help me…help me…help me.  I can’t find words for what I want from God.

I prayed on this over the past few days, and I’ve realized that what I want to pray to God for during this Lenten season, and perhaps always, is patience.  I see that through patience, I will be able to do and be a good mother, a better mother, and I will be able to have the patience for myself that means I’ll be able to accept the mother that I am.

So my daily prayer throughout Lent will be for patience–for myself, for my friends, for my family.

If you have the opportunity to see or hear Anne (I was even touched by her music, which was not, as Marcus joked, all of us sitting around singing Kumbaya) , I highly recommend it.  As a Catholic wife and mother, she really spoke to me.

 

The Journey

Well, as I mentioned yesterday, we are here in America safe and sound and relatively unscathed by the transatlantic travels.  

Of course, there’s always the build up to the big trip, which this time, was riddled with holiday gatherings on Tuesday.  The girls had their toddler group Christmas party first thing Tuesday morning, including a stop in to see Santa, some face painting, and some playtime.

Erica, having her face painted

Sam and Kicka in the ball pit

Then we headed to Moms and Tots Mass, where Father Apollo treated for pizza after mass, and the kids all made gingerbread houses.

Getting the Gingerbread Houses "Just Right"

They were exhausted by the time our travels arrived the next morning, and, in rare form, Marcus managed to read and watch three movies in flight, and I managed to knit, read, and watch some Sex in the City.  Woo-hoo.

I finished a pair of socks for a friend, too, which is always exciting.

Pom Pom Peds in Lorna's Laces Solid

So, now the travels continue as we head down to North Carolina until Tuesday.  It should be a relaxing few days, thank goodness!  After all, we need it!

 

Separation of Church and State

Sometimes, I’m happy that we are spending the girls’ preschool and nursery school years in the UK, where they don’t have the separation that is so doted on in the United States. Now, before anyone rails at me and reminds me of religious persecution and why we have the separation of church and state in America, realize that I’m talking about it because of this:

Kicka is the sheep in the back left, Sam is all the way on the right

I mean, really, there is something to be said for a real Christmas nativity play. The fact that we don’t have to tiptoe around the reason that we have this beautiful (eta: spiritual) season. The fact that my children acted out the birth of Christ, and were able to talk about him in school.

My Angel

Something to be said for recognizing that the majority of people (at least in the UK, and in America) do celebrate Christmas, and yet it’s the most taboo of the holidays to talk about in public school. Yet many schools highlight other holidays, faiths, and religions in the interest of education and diversity, but ignore the majority, which could be taught as educational, too.

Baah!

If you don’t agree, I don’t mind. As long as you agree that this is the cutest angel and the cutest sheep you’ve ever seen, we’re still on the same page.

 

A Family of Five

Disclaimer:  No, I’m not pregnant.  Just wanted to put that out there, in case that’s what you were thinking.

Of all the experiences that we’ve had as a family since moving abroad in 2006, one of the greatest and most life-changing has been to realize that we are a family of five, a family in Christ.

When Marcus and I met, I liked that he was Catholic too, though neither of us was practicing.  We went to church on holidays, for baptisms and weddings, and on the occasional Saturday or Sunday when we were up, moving, and so inclined.  But we weren’t religious or spiritual.

That changed slightly when we had our children, because I knew that I wanted them to grow up in the church.  But we still went to church sporadically, and didn’t include Christ in our day to day life.

When we went to Marriage Encounter, Marcus and I both took reassurance in the idea that our marriage had three people in it–me, him, and God.  But when the weekend memories faded, so did that idea from our lives.

Moving abroad has breathed new life into our ideas about spirituality, religion, our faith, and our personal and familial relationships with the Lord.  Originally belonging to a large Catholic church in Harrogate, we may never have been active or had this experience.  But on the recommendation of our friends, we decided to attend the parish on base.

It was not an easy transition for me from a large parish, where I was a face in the crowd, to a small, faith-driven community where people knew and interacted with one another.  In fact, I felt uncomfortable with this time of church at first, and our attendance was sporadic.

In addition, my children were not well-behaved at mass.  I felt like all eyes were on us, and was embarrassed that they had misbehaved in front of God, as well as people we would see on a regular basis and who did, in fact, know us.

Over the past year, however, everything has changed.  I wish I could pinpoint who, what, or when, but the fact is, it was a combination of everything.

We started attending a Moms and Tots Mass weekly on Tuesday mornings, connecting me through Christ with other women and children that I have come to love and cherish, and who have impacted me and my relationship with my girls.

Marcus became the parish council’s treasurer, allowing him to become involved in the church and it’s decision making.

I started doing the Children’s Liturgy, sharing the word of the Lord with children and drawing on my background as a teacher.  This opportunity has also allowed me a deeper understanding of God’s word.

Add to all of this the fact that, as many of you predicted, the girls are learning about church, God, and our faith.  As a result, they are behaving in church, asking questions, and praying.

We are growing as a family through Christ, thanks to our parish community and our experiences living abroad.

We are, without a doubt, a family of five thanks to the Lord.

I am truly blessed.

 

Karma

My friends Anne and Phil are Buddhist, and believe in the idea of Karma.  Of course, I’ve heard of it.  Anyone who’s watched My Name is Earl has, right?

At any rate, I hadn’t given Karma much thought in my life until meeting them, but actually, have seen it in action lately, and it’s given me pause.

First, there was the missing wallet experience.  Why would Karma have stolen my wallet when I was in Paris, you ask?  Well, earlier in the day we *might* have taken a free open-top bus tour around Paris.  I had a bit of guilt about it later, you see, and tried to make right by treating some university students to one more bottle of wine.  Karma didn’t buy it.  Enter the wallet escapade.

I started thinking about Karma more in depth a few nights ago, when someone I am friendly with, though not really a friend, did something that I find rather tasteless.  It was a small thing really-not even worth mentioning.  But something that got me a tiny bit fired up.

But as I was sitting in bed the other evening, I started thinking about Karma.  I found it really freeing to think that it wasn’t worth me getting upset about, because there would be a time that Karma would steal her wallet (I’m speaking in metaphors here, people, follow me).

And then I felt badly, because as a Catholic, I know I shouldn’t wish something bad to happen to anyone.

So Karma, if you are reading this, please don’t steal her wallet.

But if a fiver happens to drop out when she’s not looking, I wouldn’t complain.

 

Bonjour Paris…Au Revoir Paris!

I just returned from a whirlwind weekend in Paris with two friends. And by whirlwind, I mean whirlwind. We went from the moment we arrived on Saturday afternoon until the moment we left on Monday morning.

We walked (a lot…my legs still hurt), we ate (a lot…my tummy is still full), we drank (a lot…I don’t want to drink any wine for awhile), we saw (a lot…just you wait), and we conquered (a lot…from a lost wallet to metro rides across a foreign city).

We did.

I could write for hours about everything we did, everything we saw, and everything that we ate and drank. But I may just have to let the pictures and their captions tell the story for now. Breakfast in Paris, lunch in mid-air, and dinner with the girls appears to be a bit much for me, and I’m going to have to hit the sheets sooner, rather than later.

It was a fabulous weekend…I wouldn’t change a thing.

Tour Eiffel by day...

...and by night.

Fiona, Jenny, and I on the bus tour.

Sacre Coeur

The Louvre

Notre Dame

Arc de Triomphe

And the classic shot that will go down in infamy…me, after I retrieved my lost wallet from the Paris police station (with all of its possessions still inside). Thanks, man behind the counter at Jeff de Bruges. If you are ever in the Opera District and looking for fine chocolates, not only are these delicious, but there’s a great a great guy working there who found and turned in my wallet, too.

Me, Wallet in Hand!

Ahh…memories.  Au revoir, Paris!