Helen

I rush out the door and start walking down the steep path that leads towards the train station. We have 7 minutes to catch our train, and I've still gotta get a ticket. It's raining, and Michael told me to dress warmly, even though we won't be outside. All I know is that we are going to see a show, and it will be cold. It's my surprise birthday gift, planned for weeks. I'm wearing three layers underneath my jacket, a pair of leggings under my pants, winter boots, a scarf, a hat, gloves. I'm getting hot.

I walk fast, while being careful with my knee, which has been hurting. Michael ran ahead to get my ticket. Suddenly, I hear the familiar "ding!" of my phone in my pocket. It's a Facebook message.
I quickly glance to see who it is. Dana, my neighbor from LA. I manage to catch the first few words:

"Good evening Alexine, some sad news: Helen Walker...".  I don't need to read any further. I know. Helen's gone...
For the first few seconds, I feel nothing. I keep walking fast, to not miss my train. The first thoughts are that she is now in peace, that she is better where she is. But then, I start thinking of Helen. I remember her. The memories come flooding, and with them, the tears. Helen, my sweet Helen. You're gone! You probably didn't even remember I existed. Dementia had long taken over. But you are so unforgettable!

The first time I met you, you were walking around my driveway with your white little dog, as if you were looking for something. You seemed kind of strange, I wondered who you were and what you were doing there. You were sort of lingering, ignorant to the fact that you were on MY driveway.

I said Hello, you looked at me with a smile and didn't seem phased that I was kind of surprised to see you there. We had just moved, and all I knew was that the neighborhood was a bit sketchy, over on the other side of the avenue. I asked if I could help you, and you mumbled something I couldn't understand. I introduced myself and told you we had just moved here. You then told me your name was Helen and you were just collecting empty bottles from the trash, for recycling. Did I have any? You seemed a little odd and I realized that you probably weren't all together, but you seemed nice and your big eyes were full of spark.

Little did I know that I was going to cross your path much closer than this one encounter.

We got used to Helen. In the end, we would set aside our recyclables and bring them directly to her house. She lived at the end of the street, close to the main avenue, in a very old beat up house, with Bill, her 90 something year old father-in-law, whom she was taking care of. She would always complain about him cussing and being rude, but to me, he seemed like a nice and sweet old man, always sweeping outside, even if he could barely stand on his two feet.

She loved the kids and tried to teach them manners. She would insist on a hello and a kiss, and would tell them stories from when she was a nurse. Her house was a mess. She was a hoarder and would collect piles and piles of stuff, inside and outside her house, that she would sometimes give away to the kids. When we would go on walks around the block, we would always stop by Helen's house. The kids would go and ring the bell on her door where a little sign would say: "an apple a day...", and she would come out with her big smile and her spunk, always with a story, a little candy or a toy. She'd put Teddy on a leash and come join us for the walk, which would considerably slow us down, but would triple the enjoyment.

She was in pain and would tell me about the doctor not giving her medication. Sometimes she would come to my house and ask me for a tylenol for her back. I later found out from her daughter that she was doing that with everyone. She also had a car, which she didn't drive. She was paranoid about some people coming and taking her car. I didn't know which of her stories were true, and which were fabrications of her own mind. But some of them I knew probably weren't fake. Like the fact that she fled Ohio or Iowa, from a husband that tried to kill her. It would always come back, and it was always the same story. I knew Helen had known suffering, and fear, but she would always say, in her melodious  accent, "the Lord has been so good to me!".

Helen was skinny. Super skinny. Like skin on bones skinny. She would tell me that she wasn't hungry much, but she sure did like her coke, and almost always had a can of coke in her hand. One day I asked her what she was eating for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not much, she said. I asked her what she liked, and she said she liked grits and oats, bacon, eggs and chinese food, but didn't have much money to buy what she needed. And yet she would cook meals for her dog!!! So I went to the store and brought her oat meal, crackers, bananas, eggs, some basics. That was the first time I walked into her house. That's when I realized the conditions she lived in. The carpet smelled like dog pee, and the whole house was cluttered with old knick knacks. The kitchen closets and the fridge were pretty much empty.

And yet, this frail little lady would keep her garden impeccable. She had a green thumb and would take such care to make everything look good. The boys used to love looking at the animal statues in her yard, and we'd visit a turtle she had rescued, which had escaped from a neighbor's house.
After the grocery episode, I would sometimes bring her a bowl of soup or some muffins and insist on her eating them. At Thanksgiving, we would bring her and Bill a plate of food, or whenever we had a party, we'd bring leftovers. They were always so thankful and touched, it was a joy to give to them. Bill, who was old and sick, and very slow and weak physically, had all his head. Through my visits to Helen, I got to know him a little bit too. He would always say the same thing about the boys: "My my my, they are growing like weeds!". He told me a little bit about his life too, a life of adventures and traveling, but a life of grief and loss, a wife that left him for another man and took the kids. When we left LA, I told him we would see him in a year. He said: "oh, I probably won't make it that long." I told him he was a tough cookie, but inside I knew it was the last time I would see him. I remember praying for him, holding his black hand and crying, knowing this was our good bye. He died 8 months or so later.

Helen would always tell me about these bills she didn't understand anything about, and which caused her stress. So I told her to show me the paper work. She had piles and piles of unopened mail, and papers about health insurance that she was stressed about and wanted me to read. From then on, I gave her my number, and told her she could call me when she needed help. But I realized she barely knew how to use her cell phone. She did call me one day and left me a very disoriented message, saying that she had lost her dog. Most of the time, when she needed help, she would come straight to my house and knock on the door with her letters from the insurance. If I wasn't there, she would grab a broom and sweep the driveway, or leave some flowers in front of the door. When Michael was home, he'd sing "Hello young lady!" and she would beam with pride and tell me, with her sparkly cheeky eyes: "He's a good looking fellow, you done good!". She knew how to spot a hot guy and would tell me about it when she had encountered one in her whereabouts. That would crack me up.

She liked to make herself pretty. Even though she often dressed in the most original, strange clothes, she always, always wore her perfume, some jewelry, and sometimes a little something in her hair. And of course, her long, painted fake nails, which would always fascinate my mom when she was visiting from Switzerland.

Helen loved people and she would tell me: "everybody is so nice to me. See, I like people, and I'm nice to them, and they're all so nice to me". I would answer her that she was easy to be nice to.

One day, I walked by Helen's house, and Bill was standing outside, leaning on his rack, looking a bit lost. I asked how he was and whether Helen was here. He said she wasn't well and had fainted and fallen several times. He had been waiting outside in the sun for someone to come by and help. So I went into her house and found her sitting on her couch, unable to get up she was so week, her eyes all yellow from dehydration, and unable to recognize me or make any sense. She had refused to eat and drink after an argument she had with Bill, and was in bad shape. I tried to reason with her, make her drink some water, and get some info about her family and who we could call. She seemed very worried about me talking to her family, but I finally managed to call one of her children. I can't remember if I called 911 or if her son came by and did it, but I remember the paramedics getting there and taking her vitals and asking me questions. She ended up spending two weeks in the hospital. We visited her a couple times, and her daughter came to stay at her house and started cleaning it. When Helen got out, she was very unhappy about having family staying with her and telling her what to do, controlling her whereabouts. She started complaining about feeling like she was in jail. She sure was an independent, strong-willed little lady! Meanwhile, I was finding out stuff from her daughter that I hadn't realized (like the tylenol issue) and ways in which Helen had been street smart without me even noticing. But that didn't change anything about my love for her. I continued to visit her, bring her food and go on walks around the block with her.

When we told her we were moving to Switzerland for a year, she said: "Why?", and then, "Make sure you come back! I want a postcard every week!". During that first year we were here, I cried so much for LA, for the things I missed, for the feeling torn inside. But I have to say that one of the things that would make me cry the most was to think of Helen. Somehow, I would feel guilty about not being there for her, not being able to visit her, check in on her, bring her food. Here in Switzerland, I had no one to care for in that way. And I realized that by letting me care for her, she had given me much. She had allowed me to develop a side of me that brings me much joy, and that I miss sorely.



When we came back to LA 18 months later, to pack up shop, Helen didn't recognize or remember us. However, she smiled at us and started talking to us anyways, answering our questions and being playful. When Michael joined us, and said "Hello young lady", she giggled and something clicked, and she said, "yes, yes, I think I recognize you". We had a short chat and then had to leave again, say good bye for good this time, and I knew this was probably the last time.

I wish I could have said good bye one more time. I wish I could have gone to her funeral and let her family know how much she had meant to me and what a bright sunshine she had been on Kent St. I wish I could kiss her cold forehead and say one last prayer for her. But I'm thankful to be able to write this and recall these sweet memories about her, and share them with you.  Those who knew her were blessed by her smile and loving presence. She filled many of my lonely "mom of small children" days with a spark, a smile, a good laugh. Some days, walking to Helen's house was the highlight. Watching her light up when my little ones would say "Hi Helen!" was a gift. Walking to Helen's house was sometimes a destination, a field trip in itself, a reason to go outside.

Heaven is dancing because they've got one spunky black mama with them to light up the party. Lucky them!

Summer, a year mark, staying on…

 Summer has come and gone without much noise. It went by fast. Before you know it, we had been here a year. I have had countless moments when I wanted to write, share the process, the journey, the pictures, and didn't. I figured it wasn't September 21st yet, I still had time… and then all of a sudden, Fall was here, and we were well into our second year, full steam ahead, with no time to write.

Tonight, after a good few months of bliss and ease and feeling more grounded here, I'm being hit with an unexpected bout of homesickness for all things LA. And it's usually in those moments that it feels good to write. It's cathartic. It's my therapy, since I don't have that anymore here.

If I go back to my last post, that was 6 months ago. Geesh! That seems like a lifetime ago! Well, we entered into summer with the visit of a dear neighbor, which was very refreshing and very encouraging. I love getting visitors from LA, because it gives me a reality check. They come here, into our tiny one bedroom apartment (yes, one bedroom, you read that right), located in a mansion of a house with a garden worthy of the Huntington Gardens, and they see all we do, and the way we live, and they feel happy for us. And excited. And they see all that we do have, when we sometimes forget and see only what we have lost. It is always super helpful to have someone who knew you well in your old environment, come and see you in the new one and marvel at this new place you moved to. This summer, we had the joy and the delight of experiencing that three times. Over a long weekend with our LA neighbor Dana, over two and a half weeks with our dear friends Lorraine and Addie, and  for a few days with our best and oldest (as in, we go way back!) LA friends Ron and Debbie.
I have loved taking all of them around and showing them my beautiful country. The vineyard area we live close to is a Unesco site and is absolutely breathtaking. The Alps are magnificent, so diverse, and majestic, and so close to us, it is a pride to take people there.
With Lorraine, though the weather wasn't so great, we did a lot of local things, enjoyed the lake, went hiking, fishing, barbecued, partied, drank wine, jaccuzied and just had a fabulous time. I feel so blessed that she would have come all the way here to visit us with her daughter!

At the end of the summer, Michael started a new job in Geneva as a teacher in an international school. He now commutes by train to Geneva and spends an average of 3 hours a day on the way to work and back. He uses this time to work on his photography on the laptop. It's not the dream job, but it beats pulling weeds in the rain, like he did for a whole year. I am so grateful to him for the sacrifices he made during that year. It was tough. He dreamed of LA every day. He was a nobody. He lost his pride, his identity, all of that so we could be happy. I am very relieved that he found a job that's more down his alley, and so proud of him for chasing his dreams and becoming an independent professional photographer on the side. Speaking of which, he has photographed 4 weddings this past year, and with the exception of one, I accompanied him and we worked together on those. We had such a blast! With each one we are becoming better. We are now in the midst of shooting family portraits and again are having a fantastic time. If you haven't done so yet, you should check out his work at www.michaelthompson.photodeck.com
The kids started a new school year with new teachers. They are happy and thriving. Kahleo started Capoeira classes, which is a brazilian combat dance, and he loves it. He is still mostly a nature boy who can tell you anything you need to know about any animal, their habitat, diet and lifestyle. He is becoming a real bookworm and reads, reads, reads for hours on end when he is done running around in nature.  Kaelan started music classes and is constantly singing or reciting the poems he is learning at school. I call him our tweety bird. He is also begging to start soccer, so the dreaded soccer mom job I have been able to avoid for years is soon coming my way.
Both of them have best friends and great teachers, and we know we made the right decision when we look at their lives and how they are unfolding right now.

As for me, I continue to practice EFT with couples, supervise practitioners who are learning the model, and hold couples weekends. We just hosted our second Hold Me Tight workshop with Michael, which was another great success. It's really a joy to work together in each other's domain of expertise.
I was asked to teach in YWAM again this Fall but declined. I have been saying yes to everything that is coming my way and started feeling like it was too much.
I also graduated from the Institue of Integrative Nutrition and see a few clients for health coaching. I haven't had as much time as I would have liked to, to develop a program and some workshops, but I am keeping that in my back pocket for the near future.

So that's the update on all our doings.
About our being and our feelings… Entering into our second year has made a big difference for me. Things feel familiar. I see the end of summer and I know what is coming. After a very rainy summer, we were blessed to have a beautiful sunny fall, with luxuriant colors and warm days, stunning sunsets, grape harvest festival and all, all these things I remembered from last year but that were even better this year because of the weather, and because it had an air of familiarity this time around. And that felt good. That felt grounding. I feel more rooted. I can look forward to what is coming next, to the leaves falling, the rain coming, the ski days and the fondue and raclettes, well deserved after a day in the cold. Reading books with candles lit, music playing in the background. Those days when you just stay home and cocoon, or you watch a movie. And then comes spring, with the explosion of flowers and perfumes. And summer with its long days and paddle boarding on the lake and bbq with friends. I love seasons! I didn't realize how much I had missed them, and I think they make the year feel more colorful.
So I look back and I feel grateful, so grateful, that we took this risk to loose everything, just to see if this was for us. And that we had the courage to say that yes, it was, even though we didn't have all our ducks in a row (and still don't), and didn't feel completely at home here. I am so thankful to my parents for their generosity and hospitality. Without them, we could have never done this. Never. I am thankful to my God for leading us, for nudging us gently, and for providing us with amazing friends and community, for allowing our dreams to take shape, little by little. We had a dream, when we came here, to open a retreat center, where we would do couples weekends, art, gardening, and a whole lot of other things. We don't have the retreat center yet, but we are doing couples workshops, we are doing art (photography), we have a garden, and we occasionally open our house up for people who need a break from their circumstances. All of that has felt VERY fulfilling, and we know there is more coming. In the mean time, we plug at it, diligently, trying to listen and follow.

At Xmas, we are coming to LA to pick up all our stuff. I dread it. I dread going back, literally, and feeling split again. I dread feeling myself in LA. I feel like I have just started really feeling myself here. And I am one to assimilate. It's as if I don't really tolerate the tension well. I'm all in, or not. It was the same in LA, though it took me longer. But I completely assimilated. English is still my first choice of language. The one I feel most comfortable in. But I also feel that it might be clarifying to go through that step, and we can't avoid it. The end of a chapter, and the continuation of a new one.

Spring, a significant crossroad

I am long overdue with this post. Not according to the other posts, which came in the nick of time, just before the end of a season. But considering all that has happened in the last few months. I should have written here a long time ago. Somehow, it was just a little too hard to put it down, into words, on my blog, on Facebook, for all to see. I wasn't ready. I needed to digest it first, feel it, process it. Not that I am done with that, but it is now summer, so it is time for my Spring post.

Let's start with small talk first… Spring has been full, full, full. For starters, I was invited to go teach at a YWAM counseling school in South Africa in March. So I went, for about 10 days, and had an absolute blast! I reconnected with several people I hadn't seen in years, YWAM friends from before I moved to LA, friends of family, friends of friends. They treated me like a queen, took me all around Cape Town and the peninsula, to beautiful beaches and African markets as well as nice restaurants.

During the week I taught, I met some wonderful students and staff, felt so alive talking about Emotionally Focused Therapy, my passion, and got wonderful feedback. I also didn't have to cook, shop, clean, do laundry, dishes, or paperwork, it was a much needed vacation! AND, I fell in love with beautiful South Africa and can't wait to go back, this time with the whole family, hopefully.

I came back to a Kaelan who had broken his shin on the ski slopes, 3 days after I had left, and who was hopping on one foot, with the other one in a cast all the way up to his groin. There started the saga of taxi driver to school and back, carrier up and down the stairs at school (no elevator), physical therapy sessions to learn how to walk with crutches, doctors' appointments, x-rays, new cast, more physio, etc… for about 6 weeks. Exhausting!





 In the midst of that, we had spring break, which means kids fighting at home, I prepared a sermon for a church service (it went well), gave a presentation at the first annual gathering of Swiss EFT Therapists, worked on my website for my Health Coaching Business, assisted Michael on a bunch of photo shoots to help him build his website and start his photography business, supervised several psychologists, therapists and psychiatrists in EFT, participated in another EFT training in Geneva while also teaching for a week in another local YWAM counseling school, started seeing clients for Health Coaching as well as new therapy clients, translated the material for the Hold Me Tight Workshop for Couples that Mike and I just held this past weekend, and… had a few breakdowns in between, because this was all too exhausting! A year aside? Really? To slow down? Hmmmm…. Something is not right with this picture…. Well, the truth is that we were coming here to figure out what the future should look like. And that as the months went by, we saw the kids blossoming, we saw the support we had here, from family and friends, we saw the opportunity to offer something different and to be unique, and we felt a nudge to trust and let go of our comfortable lives one step further. We felt torn between our desire for something new, and the familiarity of LA, our community there, all we had spent 12 years building… At some point, our family was split, half of us wanting to stay, the other half wanting to go back. Until Michael was the last one standing, the last one wanting to go back.
This, by the way, was a painful process. To not be on the same wave length with such a big decision. To feel so torn. To face the fears and the uncertainties.

On March 8th, we had a big party for Michael's birthday. And as I was lighting the candles on the cake, he got up and gave a speech. I wasn't really paying attention, as I was busy getting the cake ready, but suddenly I heard him say: "We are going to stay in Switzerland". "wait, whaaaaaattttt????". I couldn't believe it. After all these discussions, seeing him struggle so much with this place, this culture, this job… Wow! It didn't hit me right then. I thought it was an impulsive decision. But I discovered the next day that it had been well thought out and processed with his mentors and life coach, and that he felt right about it.

So there we were, jumping one more time off a cliff, not being so sure we had a parachute, but feeling ready for the ride. And then, all these doors opened for me. So I went for it. Because we are staying, and we need to figure out what the heck we are going to be doing here and how we are going to live in this very, very expensive country.

However, as I write tonight, I realize that I have exhausted myself (as usual) and that I need to refocus on the bigger picture, the dreams of my heart, and ultimately, ask God what He thinks of all of that and what He has for us. Because ultimately, it's out of my control. And I will exhaust myself if I keep trying to make it happen.

Michael had a job interview at an international school and he didn't get what seemed to be a perfect job for him. He is now being offered a job at a small private Christian school, which pays peanuts but could be interesting for him and give him enough time to develop the photography on the side. I still want to be home for the kids, but also want to work and develop a practice. Ultimately, we still dream of being part of some kind of a retreat center focused on mind, body and soul, therapy, the arts, healthy living, permaculture, adventure… and there are things on the horizon.

We are blessed with a wonderful church and community of friends, but we miss the ones we left in LA and it hurts. Daily. We also miss being independent, our home, our stuff. I know, it sounds superficial, but those were the things we had built over all these years. They represented our success, our perseverance, the fact that we came with nothing 12 years ago, just a few thousands in a bank account, no job, no car, and that we slowly managed our way through this transition, working hard, not giving up.

Now looking back, that transition seemed easy. We were young, had no kids, no professional identity, we were excited, ready for adventure. Today, we have (or should I say we had) an identity, as professionals, as a couple, as a family, as individuals, that has been profoundly impacted by those 12 years, and that feels a bit topsy turvy these days. Re-learning a new system, finding a doctor, a dentist, a hairdresser, learning how to do taxes (don't get me started), how to start a business, the law, driving differently, all the cultural non verbal rules that are different, the food, the drugs (when you absolutely need them), the behavioral and social codes at school and at work, the do's and don'ts, the cost of things (don't get me started either), the geographical setting (when you live in the countryside, you can go for days without seeing a soul, unless you get out), EVERYTHING, absolutely everything is different. And just because it's a western culture doesn't mean it's easier. Because it's more subtle. My hat is off to all the army wives that do this every couple of years. I don't even know how…

So the things I had been missing the most while living in L.A are there, and they are wonderful: time with family, my kids speaking French, breathtaking landscapes and refreshing nature, all of that is wonderful and priceless. But it is layered with an undercurrent of grief that comes and goes, and though it is much better today, especially after our very meaningful couple's retreat, it has been coming quite strongly in the last few weeks. Oh how I have missed my L.A! The beach, the ocean, the wild wild west when we would go up North to camp, Trader Joe's, Target, the streets of Pasadena, the cool coffee shops (coffee shops here are all the same, too expensive, nothing unique and SO depressing! We'd make a fortune if we opened one!), the sunshine, our neighbors, our friends, our rustic home, my pretty dishes, surfing, Farmer's Markets, Altadena and all its hippie dip pie people, Aveson, the most amazing school, the language, the laid-back spirit, people smiling everywhere…Don't get me wrong, I am not unhappy here, and we are blessed. But this is a MAJOR life transition. And this is my diary of some sort. Writing it down and sharing it helps me process it a little more. Those of you who have gone through such a shift will understand. The other ones might think I am complicated. That's OK, I'm a therapist, I'm supposed to be. It makes me great at understanding other complicated people :) And until you have let go of everything you built to start something new at 40 in another culture, you may not "get it".

Let's take a breather and come back to the surface a bit. I am talking a lot about me and my process. The success story in all this is that the kids are doing great! They both speak better and better French, memorize songs and poems, use expressions I had forgotten about (it always brings a smile to my face) and since mid-Spring, they have spent hours catching fishes, frogs and toads in the garden.



Kahleo is becoming quit the artist and enjoys drawing quite a bit. Kaelan is always singing and still so musically inclined, we can't wait to sign him up for Music classes next year. Kahleo would like to start break dancing and drawing classes. He reads and reads and reads in French and English, and is an excellent student at school, bring great results home with very little effort. They both have best friends and a solid group of friends, playdates and birthday parties to go to. We speak Frenglish at home, sometimes French, sometimes English, but they tend to speak French to me and English to Michael. The irony is that I sometimes respond to them in English (yep, I'm still struggling with my own language).

Michael planted a beautiful vegetable garden from which we are already eating delicious salads, and he is experimenting with permaculture. He has decreased his work time so he can focus on the photography and has booked a few weddings and events for the summer. He is incredibly talented and I am very proud of him and of all the work he is putting into developing this aspect of his giftings. If you haven't yet, check out his work at www. michaelthompson.photodeck.com

Spring has been absolutely gorgeous, each week giving way to another type of flower blooming and leading us with wonder into new colors and fragrances. The weather has been mostly nice and we have taken the paddle board on the lake twice already. Sailing is calling Michael's name and he has just started racing on the lake with a few teams.

Our friends in CA are getting married and celebrating milestone birthdays, which we are all missing. For that, we feel very sad and wish we could just hop on a plane and come squeeze you. We don't know when we will come back next. We still have cars and stuff in LA, but don't feel ready to quite turn that page yet. We are staying longer, because it's crazy to think that you can figure it all out in just a year.  We will end up where God leads us. For now, we feel He would have us here. So we will wipe our tears, practice gratitude and walk straight forward, one step at a time, enjoying the moment, the beauty of this place, priceless moments with family and friends.

Winter

Time is flying by. Winter has been long gone, since we didn't really have a full winter. It's felt more like early Spring. The temperatures have been mild, the snow has stubbornly stayed up on the mountains and refused to come down into the plain for the last two months, and flowers are starting to bloom. We did have a few beautiful days in the mountains over the Christmas break, with beautiful thick white snow falling at night and winter wonderland the next day.

We have now been here 8 months. And there is still so much we haven't experienced. Our weekends feel full, and I have a long list of people I would like to have over for dinner, but not enough free evenings for it.
It seems as though this sabbatical year has turned into a "make it happen" year for me, a race against the clock to try and figure out whether we are going to stay here or go back to California. I know I should live the present moment and just enjoy it, but I don't seem to know how to do that and get away from that pressure.

The kids are still doing great. Their French is improving, they have friends, they now master ice skating and skiing after only a few days of practice. They have loved, loved, loved the Winter sports and the evening sledding and fondue outside in the dark, and all the fun things they never got to experience before.

  

In terms of happenings, here is where we are at:

In January, I got to assist an EFT trainer from Canada during two weeks of training in Geneva. I facilitated role plays for Swiss therapists learning the model. I am now a supervisor in training and am supervising local therapists and psychiatrists in this wonderful approach. This felt like an amazing opportunity for me and I am very excited about that.

I turned 40 in January. Mid-life crisis age. And I feel the crisis. I dreaded that birthday, I dreaded celebrating it away from my dear friends in LA. I had imagined that birthday for several years, with my girlfriends. I had dreams and ideas, longings and desires, things I was looking forward to… and had to grieve it all, a couple months ago, as I realized that I didn't have "those" friends with me to celebrate, and that somehow, trying to throw a party here with a bunch of relatively new friends and a handful of old friends who hadn't really known me in the last 12 years, wasn't going to cut it.
Well, I was wrong. I grieved, and decided to just do a dinner with a few girlfriends, like I had done in previous years in LA. Unbeknownst to me, my husband and my brothers planned this surprise birthday party for me that was fun, intimate, touching, and fulfilled all the longings of my heart, with just the right people who all made me feel loved and cared for. As I was moving my 40 year old body on the living-room dance floor, under the disco ball and with the best 80's tunes, I felt so complete, so happy. The me that I had become in LA, that I was afraid I couldn't express freely here if I threw myself a party, was fully alive and well on the dance floor, surrounded by people that fully understand the me that I put on hold for 12 years while living in LA, because it had no context to express itself. That was bliss. Celebrating with friends who know the old me but respect, embrace and love the new me… I never thought this could happen. And in that moment, during that evening, somehow, I felt complete. I felt at my place, grounded, understood, loved.



Tomorrow, I fly to South Africa, to teach at a YWAM (Youth With A Mission) counseling school. This is also one of the surprises of this year, something I didn't see coming, that has basically landed on my laps. I look forward to being in the sun again and having that experience.

Michael is still working for my dad and brother's business, landscaping and toying outside. It's definitely not his life dream, but it provides, and he is listening to tons of audio books and podcasts on his iPod while working. He is also getting up early every morning to paint, has sold two paintings already, and is developing his photography website. I am encouraging to start a business with that, as I think he is really talented. If you haven't seen his work yet, here is the link.

He had a work accident in January where he broke his nose into pieces and had to have stitches between his eyes. It was a close call for his eyes! He had to have surgery to re-break his nose. Yes, it was as painful as it sounds! He's all better now and looks mostly as good as before :)

Overall, though Winter has been a tough season, we feel like we are turning a corner. We have no choice but to let go of control and give into the unknown, trust in the process and in God who leads our steps and is working on our hearts. We had a great life in LA. We were successful, had everything we needed, a wonderful community of friends, great schools for our kids, lived in an amazing house and had sunshine 350 days of the year. It's hard not to miss that. But this year, we want to nurture our hearts, we want to focus on what really matters. And all the stuff of life, all the riches and the hobbies and the activities were distractions. When you simplify, and we seriously have, you get to face yourself. When you slow down, life brings up the stuff that needs to be addressed. It can be painful, which is why it stayed hidden behind distractions and business. But God wants our hearts. Fully and completely. I want healing, wholeness, purpose. That can't happen unless I let Him deal with my fears, my need to control, the things that have hurt me in life. So that's where we are right now. It's painful, beautiful and hopeful at the same time.