Sea Glass and Pebbles

Chicago and Mother Nature have a volatile relationship. 

 One minute the air is a muggy 83 degrees.  But in the amount of time it takes to drink a cup of coffee the temperature will drop to 48 degrees. 

 Really, like in fifteen minutes. 

   

Yesterday was a gift from above.

An entire day of warm humidity and warm temperatures.  The girls and I stole a quick hour at the lake after school before trading in our flip flops for fleece today.

I'm pretty sure that children must have a different internal temperature.  

Within five minutes they both were waist deep in water that is measuring about 48 degrees.

Brrrrrrrr !!!!!!

We hunted for treasures.

And smiled a lot.

Which was good.

**I temporarily removed the following passage because I began to feel insecure about  being so self exposed on the internet.  But then I thought, "Who cares?  No one has to read this blog, and the people who do read it do care and hopefully they don't judge."  So, I put it back...and the comments too.  Thank you ,my dear readers, for letting me process my life through this silly thing we call a blog.  It helps, and I appreciate you. - Caroline

 I was beginning to adjust to rapid change and to call this Midwestern city home...until this week.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of the day Jason and I flew to Chicago for his interview with Grace.    It marks the one year anniversary since I took a thirty minute shower at the Doubletree Hotel waiting for the tears to stop flowing from my overly salted eyes.  I remember, in a moment of profound rationality during that shower, reasoning that maybe prostitution would be a good option if it enabled us to stay in Portland.  I mean, Jesus loved the hookers too, right?  Jason wasn't so excited about the idea.  So we accept with gratitude a wonderful job at an incredible church and are thankful.

Then the one year anniversary hits.  And our landlord says he wants to raise our rent.  We say no.  He says, "Ok. I'm going to sell the house."  Within days a sign is in our yard, realtors are calling, strangers are stepping over my bras to see the bathroom, and I begin to relive the emotions of doing all of this last May.  

It probably wasn't the best decision for my emotional health to choose this week to go to the DMV to finally get my Illinois driver's license.  After two hours of waiting and testing a state employee says, while dropping my Oregon license into the shredder, "Give me a pretty smile and look at the camera!." In minutes I'm handed a new red Illinois license with a picture of a puffy eyed lady wearing a pissed off smile staring back at me from the shiny new license.  Great.  

I admit it, I've got what Saturday night live calls "white people problems."  I've got a great husband who has a good job, two healthy children, and great schools.  Only problem is we've got no home as of June 30th.  This wouldn't be a big deal if we didn't have two small children happily enrolled in their neighborhood school and who don't need to be uprooted a year after we pulled them away from their friends to move across the country.  

Someone said to me this week, "I mean, you could be an African woman in Rwanda who is worrying about your children's hands being cut off with a machete."  True.  I could.  And maybe I'd have a lot more faith and know Jesus better.  Or maybe I'd just be really angry.  But I'm not.  Nor do I have cancer,  a bad marriage, or a husband away at war.  There is always a "what if"  or a "you could be as bad off as that person."  But does that negate the stress of our lives that each of us face?  No.  Not really.  Our own struggles are still there, our own questions, our own tears.

So what do we do with that stress?  Our anger with God?  How do we have faith in the mundane day to day struggle of walking by faith?  Is this life one long lesson in letting go of this life?

And then I look at these smiling beautiful pictures of my girls looking for 'treasures' at the lake yesterday.  Do I have eyes to look for the beautiful in what is in front of me?  Do I pray for new landscapes or for new eyes to see the one in which I am?

If you've read this far into my whiny navel gazing, thank you.  And I ask for your prayers for a home for us, one in which we can keep some stability for our children by keeping them in their school.  Because this spoiled rotten white girl is tired.