Sunday Morning on the Esplanade

It is a beautiful, blustery, sunny day in Portland today. With a few hours to spare between dropping Rynn at a friend's house to play and Jason getting to work on evening worship and his sermon, we took a Sunday morning stroll on the Riverfront. Dodging bikers and runners we were able to capture a few pictures of POrtland's downtown bridges connecting the West and East sides of the city over the Willamette (rhymes with 'd-mit') River. These bridges have captured my eyes for a year with their stark industrial, urban, and functional beauty contrasted with the green hills and working river which cut around POrtland's landscape.

The crazy part of the morning happened right after I took this photo. I was watching the crew regatta below on the river when I noticed a man swimming in the river. This is not a common sight as the river is quite cold. At first I thought he was one of Portland's many triatheletes doing some extreme swim training. But upon further observation I noticed he was wearing black socks and boxer shorts. He was screaming to a woman in a one man boat, "I'm drowning! I can't make it! I can't do it!." To which she was screaming back, "Turn on your back!!!! Turn on your back and float, you crazy A-&&%$#!!!." A few other pedestrians were as dumb struck as we, and it seemed like slow motion until someone said, "Can someone call 911?." We stood there helpless. The river is far below, very cold, and he was a flailing man who was probably hypothermic. Minutes later the POrtland fire department arrived by boat just as the woman in the little boat had coaxed him to the dock of the Oregon Maritime Museum. It was all a bit surreal in the middle of a normal sunny fall morning downtown. Later down the esplanade we saw a pair of new Adidas sneakers and a very fancy backpack. It appeared he must have willingly tried an "into the wild" sort of adventure by climbing down a docking cable into the cold waters below. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. Crazy.

a crew regatta team paddles on with concentration oblivious to the action on the other side of the river

Autumn's 'Golden Load'

Photos of our neighborhood this afternoon.

'The spirits of the air live in the smells Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'

Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat, Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

- William Blake

The Passing of Time...right across my face.

Today, while standing with a rubber blue ball squeezed between my legs, I stared back at myself in an overly lit room and thought, "Who is that woman staring back at me?." Surrounded by a dozen other women in spandex I was trying out a new form of fitness creativity called Barre 3. The class was supposed to be a mix of yoga, Pilates, and ballet- an interesting mix of activities that sparked my interest when my sweet friend Lenny mentioned trying it out together. The class turned out to be a few butt squeezes and leg lifts and a whole lot of talking about "this being the best thing you have ever done in your whole life for your body." Hmmm... I pondered, better than snowskiing? eating a dark chocolate bar? water skiing? or a massage? Not so sure, but I was trying to have a good attitude. Maybe I too will walk away from this class with ballerina posture!

As I looked around the room I saw lots of women with semi-fit bodies, highlighted ponytails, crows feet creeping from their eyes, and a slow deepening of expression around the mouth that seperates us thirty-forty somethings from the twentysomething set. How did I get here?, I wondered? I feel terribly out of place. These women should be my friends' moms...and then, I looked in the mirror. An epiphany struck. Caroline, you are ONE OF THESE WOMEN. Yikes! What happened? How did I get here so fast? Who is that face staring back at me in the mirror with the slightly tired eyes and hair that needs a root touch-up???

And then, enlightenment struck. IT IS ME. So this is how aging happens. It is like an out of body experience. There you are, quietly minding your own business thinking you are still just out of college, when you find yourself standing in a room full of women YOUR age and they look too old to be your age. I felt like I was floating over the classroom, somehow watching my future, but it was today. You faithful readers out there who have gone before me...is this how it happens? Is this how you find yourself suddenly turning 50,60, 70, or beyond and thinking, "Who is that woman staring back at me?."

It's all in a Name

It happened in the grocery store today. I was standing in line waiting to order my half a pound of Boar's Head Roasted Turkey breast for the girls lunches when the kind lady behind the counter asked, "What is your daughter's name?."

She appeared to be of Indian descent, but I wasn't sure. She spoke with an accent. "Eleanor," I replied.

"What does it mean?," she asked as she efficiently passed the bag of deli meat over the counter.

Suddenly I was struck with embarrassment and fear. What DOES my daughter's name mean? I don't know? How could I name my child something and I don't even know the meaning? I gave a weak response of "my husband and I thought it was a beautiful name. Her middle name is her grandmother's name, but Eleanor, I actually don't know what it means." I felt so ashamed as I walked away, and so American. How amazing that I didn't even know the meaning of my daughter's name. I began to think how different our culture is that our family ties often mean so little and how quickly we have forgotten the significance of name and place. Who are we? Who are my children? What does a name mean? I begin to think of what a name means in Eastern cultures, about the very name of God- I AM- which was too holy to even be spoken. And our names, which, if we trust in Christ, are written in the Book of Life. How beautiful are each of our names, our precious names by which those who love us call us, by which we write to show our faith and honor and promise, and by which we are known even in the remembrance of death. So, after a bit of a search on Google, I will return to the lady with the beautiful smile behind the deli counter who sees life from a distant culture, and I will tell her that Eleanor means in Hebrew "My God is light."

Burnt Orange, Blue Skies, and Bungalows

Oregon is vibrant with colors as fall has arrived to Portland. The intense oranges and reds in the trees and in the produce at the Farmer's Market stand in contrast with the autumn blue sky and the green evergreens of this state. Jason explained to me that red and green are opposites on the color wheel as are blue and orange. I wonder if that is why the colors of fall resonate so deeply with me. Even in the 'death' of summer and the impending gray of winter there is so much life and beauty and color in fall. I love the seasons. Our friends who are refugees from Southern California speak of the 'seasonlessness' of that region. I'm thankful that God has brought us to a place where the passing of time is so concrete, where each passing season brings with it its own beauty as well as a hook to hang my memories upon.

We went to a pumpkin patch outside of Portland yesterday to pick the last of the summer blackberries and romp among the cheery October pumpkins. WHat a wonderful celebration of the beginning of fall!

Picking very ripe, very flavorful blackberries.

Rynn picks up her chosen pumpkin.

Eleanor takes a rest on her favorite pumpkin.

A run through the hay maze.

Some Saturday sun catching the colors on our backyard maple.

A view of Mt. Hood taken this afternoon- seven blocks from our house. And you wonder why we love Oregon.

A Night of Firsts

October 2003 Rynn showing off her first two teeth

October 2008
Rynn showing off her FIRST LOST TOOTH! (She counted backwards from ten in Japanese before 'Blast OFF!' when I was allowed to pull)


Hope's new location at 32nd and Taylor- an awesome location in the heart of SE Portland (right between Belmont and Hawthorne)

Eleanor posing in front of the new building. "Mommy," she said tonight, "church is really fun."

Some out of focus pics (bad lighting and an almost dead camera battery) of the interior of the church. Lots of room to grow and a sort of "in the round" kind of feel.

It was a night of firsts in Portland tonight. A rite of passage for our family and for our church. Rynn lost her first tooth without much drama and with lots of excitement. I can't believe I have a child old enough to not have a tooth in the front of her mouth and to be able to ride a school bus (haven't done it yet, but Rynn is putting the hard sell on us to let her do it).

Our church, Hope Presbyterian, moved into a new location which offers more reasonable rent, a better sanctuary for our needs, and lots of room to grow...plus a very cool old church right in the heart of the neighborhood we are trying to reach. Win, win all around.