A SQUARE OF LIGHT
“… But most of all we are called to glorify and enjoy God. Nothing gets in the way of this highest of all callings more than trying to get the right answer on which fork to take in the road. God owns all the roads. As C.S. Lewis once said, ‘God can use even the wrong road to get you to the right place.’ That right place is not to a particular job, but deeper into the divine heart.” (“One Calling of Many” by Craig Barnes)
After 17 years living in Seattle, we moved to Bainbridge Island on Saturday. We packed our things, and, after Spencer kissed every room, we left our house of 9 years. The house at 1902 31st Avenue S is where babies were born, nursed, learned to crawl, walk, spit-up, cut teeth, and lost teeth. We were visited by the toothfairy (except when she was apparently on strike- opps!), Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny; birthdays, laughter, tears, shouting, tantrums, family dinners, crazy dancing in the living room, time-outs, reading by the fire, late night cheese and apple snacks, morning waffles, sleep-overs, “family movies,” our first puppy, visits from friends and extended family- all of it happened here. On the walls of the bathroom we drew messy, colorful lines to mark the boys growth over the years. Spencer asked some of his dearest and most profound theological questions and made me ponder deeply in this house. Ben rarely wore clothes and was found peeing on the front lawn more often than in the toilet and made me laugh hysterically in this house. So many “firsts” and memories made this house our home.
With the same fervor that I bathe in the city lights, honking horns, our busy street, and watching passers-by, Jamie longs for quiet, space, animals, and a shop to create things. Jamie has been trying to convince me to make this move for many years. I had endless excuses. At first it was our neighbor, Louise, who “needs us.” So, when Louise died, Jamie said, “what about now?” I said things like, “I need to finish my ordination, my work is in the city, the boys need to experience the diversity of an urban area; I can’t leave the friends I love.” He mentioned getting burglarized twice and having our car stolen several times. I responded indignantly to his suburban, white-flight mentality by saying that getting burglarized from time to time is good for the soul- it means you never get too attached to material things. “Besides,” I pointed out on more than one occasion, “it was YOUR idea to move to Seattle in the first place; I kicked and screamed. Now I adore this city, and you want leave!” This was only grounds for him to assure me that my dauntless adaptability and resilience would be invaluable in our move.
Jamie idealizes his childhood, growing up in Lander, Wyoming, where he broke his first horse at age ten, his mother grew all of their food in her vast garden, he woke early to feed the chickens and livestock, and spent Easters floating along the snake river looking for eggs. I grew up in Atlanta, Georgia watching “Love Boat,” playing Atari, eating McDonald’s and “Lucky Charms,” skinny dipping on summer evenings with friends, catching lightening bugs, attending Saturday morning GA Bulldog football games, and having fried chicken with deep fried onion rings on the side for dinner. The only eggs I ate came a from the “local” A&P, and Jamie claims I hated all vegetables when he met me in college. One probably couldn’t even make a Venn diagram of our childhoods, except maybe that we are both human. Despite my misgivings, I relented to buying 6 acres, leaving a place I love, and beginning the adventure of our “farm.”
How am I feeling? Excited and Terrified! If nothing else, the weeks leading up to the move gave Spencer and me ample opportunity to talk about holding vastly different emotions in our hearts all at the same time. Spencer will start middle school in the fall and feels a good measure of sadness and grief leaving the school community he has been a part of since age five. Place, rootedness, relationships, and familiarity are tremendously important to him, so Spencer grieves these losses. At the very same time, he expresses excitement about having animals, go-carts, space to run and ride his bike, and a beach to dig and play, and having lots of friends visit. Ben expresses brief moments of loss, but mostly he says things like, “I can’t wait to plant my garden.” Or, “the farm is just more me.” Or, “this place is WAY better than the city.” Right after we moved last weekend, Ben said, “mama, is being an adult fun? Because it’s GREAT being seven.” I think this was another way of saying, “I’m so happy here!”
Today is Friday, and we have spent almost a full week in our new house. Several days this week I have stayed on the island to unpack while everyone else travels back to Seattle for work and school. One day I went for a tranquil 5 mile run and then jumped on my bike for a lovely evening ride. It’s almost like I’m on a vacation that just required one heck of a packing job!
Neighbors drop by with homemade berry muffins and stay for hours sipping coffee, telling me about the island and inviting me over. I’ve only commuted one day on the ferry with the kids but have already met and had lengthy talks with two commuting islanders- Rand is an attorney and Peter works for Disney, but they have chickens and like to talk about fresh eggs, big coyotes, black bears, killer raccoons, the food bank, and shopping at “Good Will.” They are friendly and want to tell me about the ways of the island. Sunday we will go to dinner at Wendy’s and Eric’s house. Everyone is nice and helpful and my runs and rides are gorgeous; so far my plan to complain about how Jamie ruined my life and identity by moving me from my beloved city and community has been thwarted. But, it’s only been a week; I still have time.
The boys have spring break next week, and Jamie is taking the week off. We will have time to settle in as a family and get a sense of our surroundings, explore together. The beach is steps down the road, and already the boys have discovered that they love to dig for Geoducks and crabs for hours; the neighbor children who live on the beach brought a plate of brownies out to the boys the day after we moved here. On Tuesday Jamie will travel to Oregon to pick up sheep, so we will have lambs by fall to slaughter. He plans to pick up baby pigs for the same reason. He has ordered 25 chickens and says he will start his garden over the weekend. When I told him I may be willing to learn about and help plant the garden, he radiated with joy and excitement.
I like that he wants me to share his dream and help him at the same time I long for him to want to understand my dreams and participate with me. He likes my idea of using the farm as a place of refuge for urban kids, maybe foster children, whose foster families need respite. They could do chores, gather and cook food, reflect/write… I’m not sure the details, but I want to share this place. It’s so vast and beautiful; it ought to be used for the good of more than one family. I’m also hopeful about the possibilities of perhaps working for Kitsap Hospice, but I’m trying to remain open and free as we transition into our new environs.
I’ve quit my job, moved to a farm, and have no idea what the years ahead hold. But, one thing I have learned is that there is no one right road or path, and even when we make the “wrong choices,” God is there. Our job and where we live is only ancillary to our true call. This is what PTS president Craig Barnes is talking about in “One Calling of Many” when he says, “We are called to take care of our bodies as well as our souls. We’re called to live in relationships of covenant. We’re called to participate in the mission of Jesus Christ in the world. … But most of all we are all called to glorify and enjoy God.”
I’m looking out my dining room window onto a large pasture covered in evening shadow, where two deer graze; on one small square of the field, the light shines. So, for now, in my oversized men’s overalls, I will gather eggs and train my eye to that square.