My Blog Is Moving Too

Because I just can't get enough of moving, I'm moving my blog too. "Born at the Right Time" no longer quite captures where I want my blog to go and where my focus is now that our adoption process is done but the story of our family goes on. So please join me over at:

http://LivingTheEpilogue.com

Please update your bookmarks and RSS readers, and feel free to put me on your blogroll or share the link with others. And I'd love for you to comment over there so I know you found me.

One note: You'll notice over there that just for the sake of privacy/safety, I'll be a bit more vague about some things. In particular, I'm not sharing as many details of Anna's life—and I'll be referring to her as AJ or the Joygirl, so please try to use those nicknames. And I won't be linking from that blog back to this one, although I will leave this one active for some time to make sure all my readers find my new place.

Thank you for following this blog over the last three years, whether the news and posts were interesting or I was in a slump. I hope we can have even greater conversations over at Living the Epilogue.

—Wendy

A Letter to My Church

To our brother and sisters, our friends and our family in Waldport:

The time has come to remember, to celebrate, and to part ways. Our time here has come to an end so that you may walk into a new beginning. Our epilogue is the new beginning of what God is doing next here in this place, through you and in you.

We are grieving our separation from you as deeply as you are grieving us. But we must turn to the next thing, becoming single-minded as we stretch and begin the next leg of our race, and so must you. Yes, this is difficult. It was not for no reason that the apostle Paul called it “straining” toward the goal. It is a strain. It is difficult. Yet we press on.

We are grateful to you for countless moments shared talking, laughing, crying, praying, eating, playing, working, and singing. We are grateful for your help and hospitality, your patience and forgiveness, your love and affection for us and our daughter. Truly we could not have asked more of a congregation. But as we prepare to step away, I ask one thing:

If you love us, feed these sheep.

Feed the children and teens and young adults who come to church, and the ones who don’t. Feed the Frontline kids, the Young Life kids, the graduates, and the younger siblings. Feed their parents and their unplanned babies. Feed the hungry and the stuffed with overconfidence; the talented and the awkward; the go-getters and the do-nothings; the thinkers, dreamers, in-betweeners. Feed their leaders all the support, resources, and encouragement they can hold.

Feed them with Oreos and soda and pizza and chips. Feed them Mondays before Club and Sundays at Frontline. Feed them a sandwich at the game, lunch out just to talk, or a holiday feast in your home. Feed them the next day with the leftovers you sent home.

Feed them the Word, with Scripture that never changes in language they can understand. Feed them words of recognition and encouragement in the grocery store, at the car wash, on the street. Feed them the Living Word by being the Christ who gives rides to town, who helps with financial aid forms, who simply knows their name. Be Christ with your presence where they are competing or performing or just plain being.

You can do this. You can make a difference. You are ready.

We have taken many steps together, but you can go on in this work without us. God is with you. He will make a way. “He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).

And so, as the time draws near, I am finding rest in remembering that Jehovah Jireh, the God Who Provides, is also the Prince of Peace. He will make the way, and He will be present to comfort us when the road seems long and the distance great. And so, dear friends,

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

(Ephesians 3:14–21)

He is able, and I know you are willing. I can’t wait to see what He does with you next.

Blessings—

Wendy

Let's See How Far We've Come

2003

2004
2005

2006

2007
2008

2009

Warning: Nostalgia on the Loose

I have to warn you: I'm having a lot of nostalgia issues lately, and pretty soon they're going to leak into this blog.

I'm also turning into our friend Bob, voted Most Likely to Cry During a Young Life Function twelve years running. I'm at graduation—getting misty. I'm in church—teary. I'm interviewing a pastor candidate—blinking a lot and losing the battle anyway. I'm telling my daughter we have to say goodbye to everyone for a long time and it will be sad, and I'm the one who needs a hug. You can imagine the disaster that was me reading Aaron's final church newsletter column.

We're three weeks away, and I still don't know how to say goodbye.

All That You Can Leave Behind

There goes about a third of our belongings.

I'm gonna miss that stuff so glad it's gone.

And to the people who took the remaining free junk we left at the end of the drive: God bless you most of all.

One Car and One Metric Ton of Junk

Okay, I admit, I have no idea what a metric ton is, but I'm sure we've got one--and on Friday we'll be spreading it all over our yard. We will create a cozy living room scene out front, since almost all the furniture is for sale. And because we're classy like that.

We are selling about half our furniture, or so it feels. The goal is to leave Oregon with an equal or lesser amount of stuff than we brought. The size of our rental truck demands it. We are alternating between feeling good calculating what clunky things we've gotten rid of and freaking out as we consider the (lack of) size of our truck. I think we'll be okay. We need to be okay. (Tell me it's okay?)

Monday night Aaron put the For Sale sign on our Suzuki, "the buggy." Tuesday he ran some errands and a woman practically begged him to sell it to her right then and there in the Staples parking lot. She drove it, she went to the bank, she came over and bought it. Voila! That was easy. And perhaps it was a tad too cheap, because we got two more calls about it after that. But we're glad to have it done and cash in hand.

We might as well start getting used to being a one-car family again. I haven't gone anywhere this week, but who wants to wager how long until we run into a driving dilemma . . . OH CRAP, THE ANSWER IS SUNDAY. D'oh!

Would anyone like to loan my husband a scooter? I think he'd look cute on it.

The First Day of What?

My calendar has got to be broken. Tell me it's broken.

It says this is the first day of Holy Crap! month, more commonly known as June. Its exclamatory nickname is favored in our house, though, because we can see the end (or the next beginning) from here.

Thirty days. Four weekends: graduation, garage sale, Beachcomber Days, our good-bye party.

Then my parents will be here, and we'll close on our house sale and drive away. We have a truck reserved and plane tickets purchased. (My mom and I are taking the red-eye with a toddler and a carry-on cat and a cargo-checked dog. Lord, have mercy.)

Aaron's work is winding down. We are selling his car. Closer to the move we'll get rid of my van.

We are having a garage moving sale on June 12 and 13, 9:00 to 3:00. We are accepting volunteer labor if you'd like to help out!

We are downsizing as much as possible to get everything into a reasonably-sized moving truck. It's amazing how much we can get rid of without missing it, even though we had a huge sale less than three years ago. Aaron recently found some crusty spices of midwest origin in the cupboard, and we decided that no food that moved here with us should move back. The same rule should probably apply to my wardrobe.

But hands off my books!

Back to work . . . sorting duty calls.

Recent Progress

I thought I'd give a house and moving plans update on this fine Friday morning:

We had our house inspection yesterday. It took for - ev - er and I had Anna and the dog out and about, shopping, etc., the whole time. Tiring! But I don't expect any problems from the inspection, and we should know today if the buyers' loan is all set, so in a couple days we should know for sure that we are on our way to our early July closing date. (As a side note, we thought we might be getting a second offer to consider if the first didn't work out, but then we didn't hear anything on that. And that's fine.)

We are making progress on moving plans. My parents are flying out to help us pack up, then the ladies are flying home and the guys are driving the truck across the country. Pretty sure we girls are getting the better end of that deal, although we are taking the cat and dog with us, which could make things a bit, ahem, hairy.

I have figured out what health insurance to buy for us and how to avoid the dreaded preexisting condition waiting period. We are not COBRA eligible and can't risk a gap in coverage, so this was essential. The bad news is that what I expect us to spend in premiums, deductibles, and copays is more than I earned last year. Get me a sign: I literally will work for health insurance. (Rent, food, shoes, etc. are so overrated.)

Last weekend I was freaking out because I realized that if I did Anna's readoption papers myself, they might still be in process when we moved, and then I might not get them back to do the next step or it might be a mess with us no longer living in the state. But Michigan has completely different rules and it seemed risky to try to do it in a different state than she came home to. Ack! I decided to call a lawyer to do the readoption for us. It is costing us a chunk of change, but I am relieved to have a pro doing it and to know the time will not be an issue because he'll handle it.

Moral of the story: DO NOT procrastinate!

Yes, this is the moral of almost every tragic tale I tell. Obviously I don't listen to myself.

On the docket for today and the next few days:

• hair session with Anna
• get readoption papers to lawyer
• community kids' fishing derby and YL car wash tomorrow
• last Frontline of the year Sunday
• last Young Life of the year Monday
• finish up some work and start sorting for a massive moving sale!

What's that about procrastinating? Time to get a Round Tuit!

SOLD! One Thunderdome

We have officially accepted an offer on the dwelling known as the Thunderdome.*

Can I get a yeeeeeeeeehaw!?

The offer came in Friday, and we signed it this morning with our agent. The price is a little lower than we were asking but right where we expected to end up.

But the most Providential? Instead of closing in the typical 30 days, thus causing us to be kicked out before we're ready to go to Michigan and have to effectively move twice, their offer was to close in 60 days. Right around July 5. We wanted to pack up and leave town around July 8. So we made an addendum with the slight adjustment of closing and being out of the house July 8. Perfect! (Or if for some reason they balk at that, close enough.)

Of course we have to pass inspection first. That should happen within a week or two.

Then it's time to start packing and sorting for a garage sale. Lots to do, but just knowing the house is taken care of is such a huge relief!



* Thunderdome explanatory note: I accidentally nicknamed our house this at Young Life camp. We were doing an activity one night that was being code/nicknamed “the Thunderdome” so the kids wouldn't find out about it. During cabin time one of the girls says, “I saw in your notebook something about the Thunderdome.” I immediately said, “That’s what we call our garage. Now as I was saying..."

I didn’t think before I said this (obviously), but I did have a reason: comedian Brian Regan does this bit about how ridiculous it is that people name their houses and why not your apartment or, heck, everything in it? (“Hand me the can opener.” “You mean . . . Umberto?”) Anyway, it got around that our house was the Thunderdome. After all, it is kind of dome-like inside with the crazy curved ceiling—and spaceship-like on the outside. It truly deserves a name.

Moving Decisions

For those of you tracking our pre-move preparations, here is your basic update (upgrade to excruciating detail available via phone or in person):

The other day Aaron and I actually took some time to chat (imagine that) and I felt like we made more decisions in a half hour than we had in two months. I think I will probably end up freelancing (although I would still explore any good opportunity, so if you hear of something, please do pass on the tip). I felt like Aaron gave me permission, even though he didn't need to because he's always been supportive, when he said, "Why don't you keep freelancing? You're already doing it and it will make so many other things so much simpler." And it will.

I think I didn't realize how stressed I was at the thought of "having to" find a job, figure out child care, etc., especially from a distance. It was all a bit much to think about at this point. We can always reevaluate once we're settled, but realistically I wasn't going to be able to have it all lined out before then anyway, so it was a pointless stress to self-impose. (Of course I still don't know quite what we're doing about insurance, so the underlying source of stress is still there, but I'm accepting that trying to get covered by a new job by the time Aaron ends his is not the answer.)

Under the work-at-home scenario, we should be fine with one car, which means we'll sell our Suzuki rather than having to move it across the country. Then we'll take my dad's Ridiculously Imposingly Ginormous (RIG™) pickup off his hands, thereby allowing him to complete Phase One of his master "How can I get a new truck?" plan and me to look like a miniaturized King Kong scaling its towering sides to get up into it. I'm thinking of attaching a catapult to the running board so I can more ergonomically heave Anna up into her seat. But hey, at least I will be able to plow through snowdrifts.

Finally, we determined that we should set a target date for moving so we can get a truck rented. We are aiming at right around July 8. I can't believe I just wrote that.

Maybe God was watching for some sign of decisiveness down here, because today we had people look at our house who actually seem interested. We hope that they are rich and get loan approved--or are not rich but will get approved like they are anyway. You know, like us. O dear sweet homeless baby Jesus, save us from this mess and we'll never borrow subprime again...

Heretical kidding aside, we sure are praying and hoping we get an offer we wouldn't want to refuse. Join us, and watch this space for updates . . .

HOLY CRAP 8:45 UPDATE: We are getting an offer tomorrow! Sounds like it should be solid . . . Woo hoo!

Sha-na-na-na-nah . . . Get a Job?

As I mentioned in my recent panicky post, we have less than three months till we put all our stuff in a truck and head east to become cemetery dwellers.

People ask me if I'm excited and I just don't know what to say. I was, and I think I am. I know I will be. But so much must be done first, and right now I don't quite know what I'm supposed to be looking forward to because so much is still unknown, particularly for me. Life in Michigan is in many ways a big, mitten-shaped, blank canvas.

We know where we're living (seminary townhouse), and I think being part of the seminary community will be interesting and good for us. But what does my actual day-to-day life look like? I do not know if I'm (a) getting up and editing two hours in my pajamas before taking my girl for a leisurely walk to the park to smell tulips before lunch, or (b) getting up and putting on stiff clothes I don't currently own and driving 45 minutes to spend 8 hours in a cube at some sort of Evil Spamway Corporation. There is a really big difference between the two.

Freelancing has its, ahem, prose and cons.

I would like to continue the freelance life, but I've never done it full time so I'm nervous about my ability to win enough bread (because health insurance/care will require a lot of extra bread). Yet a job would most likely have to have benefits to be worthwhile since it raises the issues of cars, commutes, clothes, and child care. But in our situation, with "preexisting" health issues, group health insurance is almost priceless, so I might have to take what I can find--if there are any jobs left in Michigan to find.

Another option would be for me move into a Starbucks and simply move from one side of the counter to the other depending on whether I'm working there or freelancing or sleeping. But I might build up an immunity to caffeine, and then I couldn't be a freelancer anymore. It's a rule. (Actually, though, I've heard Starbucks offers benefits and $4000 adoption grants. Hmmmm.)

There is some sort of break-even or tipping point between freelancing and a regular job. Freelancing is a better hourly rate, so a part-time job probably really doesn't make sense, although freelancing does require paying payroll taxes (which has never bothered me since we just had extra tax withheld from Aaron's pay to cover mine, but I'll have to pay quarterly again). But a job with benefits would be a different story. Maybe. Now we'd have child care and commuting costs to consider. So a lot depends on the particulars, but as I'm poking around online, I don't see any tailor-made publishing jobs just begging to be filled. Ten thousand new English major soon-to-be grads, plus half the auto industry, will probably see to that.

What do you think is the tipping point, dear readers? At what point is going back to a "real job" worth it--financially, emotionally, practically? What am I forgetting to consider?

Freelance and work-at-home friends in particular, what are your "wish I'd known that" secrets to making it work well enough to carry the financial load? If you've gone from job to freelance or vice versa, what have been the pros and cons for you?

Most importantly: which would make the best blog fodder?

Finishing Strong

Winter is over. Lent is over. Spring break is over. My trip is over. Easter is over.

And thinking about this the other day, I proceeded to FREAK OUT for just a few minutes.

Why? Because regarding all the many things which must be done and figured out for this whole "move across the country for seminary" thing, I am in exactly the same place as just after Christmas. Or so it feels.

Yeah, we have the house on the market (but few lookers and no sign of offers). We applied for financial aid. And I just suckered my parents into agreeing to take our pets, unless of course one of you wants them.

Other than that? I haven't sorted and packed much of anything. I haven't done Anna's readoption. I don't have any money saved. I don't have a clue how we're going to find, let alone afford, health insurance. I don't have a job or lucrative new freelance leads. I don't know if we need one car or two. I don't know how we're moving all our stuff (and car--or are we selling it?). I don't know how to rent out our house or when to decide if that's what we have to do or if I'd better hurry up and refinance it while Aaron has a job. We don't have a pastor to make leaving seem okay. And I don't know how to say goodbye.

Nine weeks of school. A few more weeks of wrap-up. Boxes, a truck, a plane, a townhouse . . . and what? What am I doing with myself over there in Michigan anyway?

I don't actually have a clue, and I'm kind of freaked out when I think about it. But I don't want that to be the defining feature of my home stretch in this place. I don't want to rob our youth group and Young Life kids by being so infected with my own form of senioritis that I fail to be present as they wrestle with theirs. I don't want to be so obsessive about research and details for the future that the present morning's gone, and then the week, before I've let my daughter go outside and blow bubbles. I don't want to stop caring what happens next to our church. I don't want to stop loving this place.

I want to reach the finish line. I want to run through the tape. I want to finish strong.

But sometimes--like today when we got really disappointing news--I feel like the road is way longer and rockier than it's supposed to be and I wish there was a shortcut, but there isn't. I feel like just sitting down on the curb and saying I quit.

I really need to believe the phrase that sometimes runs through my head: Now is the time to be brave. I really need those marching orders: Walk on. I really need that Easter message: "Do not be afraid."

Crazy/brilliant satirical/thoughtful Steve Taylor wrote a song in the '90s called "The Finish Line" that is clanging around in my head and heart right now. The lyrics alone don't capture the emotional power the song carries, but here is the climax--my prayer for our kids and our church, my hope for me:

Off in the distance, bloodied but wise
As you squint with the light
Of the truth in your eyes

And I saw you, both hands were raised
And I saw your lips move in praise
And I saw you steady your gaze
For the finish line

Every idol like dust
A word scattered them all
And I rose to my feet
When you scaled the last wall

And I gasped
When I saw you fall
In his arms
At the finish line

Deep breath. Squint. Walk on. Finish strong.

Here goes.

• Lyrics and background for "The Finish Line" at the Taylor tribute site SockHeaven.net
• Crappy bootleg live performance from Cornerstone 1994 on YouTube. Pretty sure we saw this show--memorable because I have never seen anyone so hyper onstage (here he is relatively mellow)--though at that point my husband was still just my stalker since this is where we met. Awww.

Ah, This Will Fill All That Free Time

Someone is coming to look at our house tomorrow!

Which is awesome timing because I just didn't know what to do with all the extra time on my hands this weekend.

It's nice to have some cleaning to do when I'm supposed to be working, so I can work on those multitasking skills. And to need to clear every living creature out of the house in the middle of the day without leaving any rubble behind is divine.

(Sarcasm about timing aside, this is very good!)

For Sale Sign Is Up!

It's official.



And suddenly I feel like everyone's staring at me.

We had the place looking great inside when the real estate agent came on Friday. Not a book or a dish or a Mr. Potato Head part out of place. But he didn't take pictures. So I had to keep the joint spotless for a full 72 hours until our Monday morning meeting. I know. But apparently it's possible. He still didn't take pictures (too rainy/dark), but that allowed me extra time to clean up a few more things and hang curtains to cover the back of the room-dividing bookshelves upstairs--the curtains I bought a year and a half ago. Wow, this place is just like I want it. I could live here forever for another five months.

I don't expect a flood of buyers right away (okay, at all), but I'm going to try to keep good habits in case someone wants to look on short notice. I guess that means no more putting clothes "away" on the closet floor or pretending not to see the dishes that need to be hand washed. Good thing we have a little helper.


Too bad she also spreads small plastic objects around like a preschool full of Tazmanian Devils.

If you know anyone who would like to relocate or invest in a charming beachside community on the gorgeous central Oregon coast, let them know:

FOR SALE
3 bedroom, 2 bath
Open floor plan, high ceilings
Large master suite loft with office area and deck
2 car garage, storage shed
Dog and cat negotiable

So Tired. Period.

There's this old worship song that starts "I am so tired..." We are singing it--stopping there.

So tired. Period.

Aaron has his usual busyness plus he is preaching this week. Friday is usually his day off but he thinks he still needs to polish his sermon a bit.

I have lots of editing work calling, but I have been cleaning the house top to bottom. Scrubbing cupboards. Touching up paint. Washing windows and sills. Organizing closets. I even found an old oak desk under stacks of paper in my office. Who knew? Archaeological analysis indicates the surface may have sat untouched for two to three years.

I still have to clean up our bedroom and clean out the closet. Blaaaaaah. I will probably do it tonight, though, because a real estate agent is meeting us here tomorrow about getting this place listed. I mean sold! He told me on the phone that sales are down about 45 percent from last year (in volume, not price), so we have to be competitive if we want to sell it, not just list it. And we need to sell. Thus my compulsion to make a good first impression on him and every potential buyer.

Meanwhile, I have determined that we need to either move or have an adoption home study every two years. It's the only way this place gets whipped into shape!