Happy Places in the Dead of Winter

What is your happy Winter place? I'm not talking about a fantasy destination...what is happy in your present life that gets you through the dead of winter?

February is hard. There's a general consensus among my friends that February is the hardest of all the months. Dark. Cold. Things seem to break (aka cars, furnaces, pipes, tree limbs). So while I'm extremely pleased we have made it to March - which has got to be better, right?! - I can't leave behind February without a fight.

February may have hit hard, but there were some happy moments too. Here are my February happy places:

#1 - My Gym! I love Anytime Fitness! My handy dandy fob lets me in anytime I want. I have been there at 5:15AM, braving the snowy streets, just to get in my workout. I love how warm and clean it is. My personal favorite: spin classes with Vicki.

The photo above also represents my #2 Happy Place. I started work at Ocular Melanoma Foundation in January. During the month of February I started working more closely with patients (Warriors!) who want to raise awareness and funds for the organization. It is hard to stay gloomy after talking with these amazing inspirational people. 

Happy Place #3: Music with Charlotte. Charlotte is a cheerful, dancing, singing girl. When the rest of us mope around the house, complaining about the cold, Charlotte sings made up songs about her life. We've heard melodies about cereal, upbeat tempos about her hamster, and ballads about how hard it is when someone is angry at her. It's a constant Charlotte broadway musical.

Happy Place #4 Okay, it's not really a place; it's a day. Madi turned 15 on February 18th! Yes, 15 years old - the heart of teenagehood, the age of most heroines in young adult novels! I surprised Madi by arranging breakfast at Coney Island Diner with some of her friends. Balloons, noise makers, pancakes, maple syrup, and omelettes can turn a normal, cold, wintery day, into a sunny celebration!

So while I'm not sorry to see February go, I'm grateful for these happy places that got me through.

Cold

Because I promised myself I'd write...

After I posted on facebook last week that it was 5 degrees fahrenheit, a Jakarta friend responded with the question, "What does that even feel like?"

Even though I think I gave a smug answer and reminisced about a dip in the KCV pool, I've thought about the question all week long. And here's my answer.

The air grabs me. Steals my breath with the shock. In just the few seconds it takes to shuffle from the front door to the car, my fingers ache, even inside my gloves. I turn the car on and watch the dial, waiting for the magical moment when the needle moves slightly higher than the C...I then turn on the warm air and wait for relief. My skin prickles in the moments between cold and warm. Dry. Itchy. Brittle.

But there are beautiful moments too...

As Madi, Elise and I drive back from Leesburg on President's Day, the sun has set and snow falls. It is not the large, gentle flakes. Instead, the air holds a dense mist of snow. Millions of minuscule snowflakes sparkle like a sky full of silver glitter. Fairy dust. The snow swirls in white patterns against the black asphalt like water in a river. It curves, ripples, and twirls.

We spend our days fighting the cold. I slam the door shut behind me when entering the house, trying to trap in the warm. With the furnace out (of course!) we bundle in wool sweaters and socks. We cuddle and spark. We hover near the fire until our backsides are too hot, and we turn ourselves like marshmallows on a stick, trying to get each surface perfectly toasted. We take turns propping our feet up near the small electric heater.

In the morning, the neighborhood sits quietly under the white blanket. The sky is brighter. But the world is softer somehow.  We go for a walk, our boots crunching the snow. Madi hates the sound. She says it makes her teeth hurt and reminds her of biting a towel. I love the footprints. I love the time between each crunch. The hush of the world.

In the past six months, our family has had little "slowdown" time. I sometimes think one of the ways we've coped with the transition is to fill our calendars too full...giving us very little time to think about what me miss or how things have changed. But the cold has altered our schedule. We linger, we pause, we talk about non-essential things and realize perhaps they ARE the essential things. I hold Charlotte in my arms. I read books aloud to the youngest three and say "yes" to their pleas of "one more chapter!" Later, Madi, Elise, and I read silently snuggling together in my bed with extra covers.

Here are some "Cold" moments: Owen with his snowblower.

 Amelia's selfie in the cold!

Madie and Elise Pre-snow-run

Post-snow Run

What does cold feel like? It hurts - quite brutally painful. But it is wonderfully beautiful too.

To Write or Not to Write?...that is the question

It's been six weeks since I've blogged. Almost a record for me. Sadly, I've only written 9 times since I've been back home in Virginia. And I've been home now for six months!

Each time I consider writing, I think, "What do I possibly have to say that is interesting?" Compared to the past three years of excitement and travel, my current life seems very mundane. Work, school, grocery shopping, chauffeuring, laundry, helping kids with homework, exercising, cooking...just a very simple list.

And so I've decided I have to dig a little deeper. Why do I write? Why did I write in the four years preceding my overseas experience?

And for me, the answers are pretty simple:

#1 My blog is my journal. And my journal is simply a place to record the ups and downs and the events of my life (boring or otherwise). The only people I honestly thought would ever read it were my family and closest friends. Anyone else who chooses to read gets insight (sometimes TMI) into my life. Having an "audience" - even if it is my mom or my children - keeps me feeling connected.

#2 My blog is a chance for me to meditate and create my own history. My story. It is a place where I give myself creative license to re-live and learn from my experiences. I believe very strongly in the power of story - my quote at the top of my blog says it all.

If these are my reasons, then there really should not be any excuse to keep me from writing.

So I'm recommitting myself.

There will not be pictures of exotic foods, new places, and paralytic traffic. But there will be simple moments captured and preserved for me...and anyone else who happens to be interested.

With these thoughts (and a lot of cheerleading from my inner self), here are some highlights from the past week I want to always remember:

For my birthday, I attended Michele Reynolds' date night cooking class. Owen and the rest of the husbands chopped vegetables, cooked the chicken, and really rose to the occasion. Karen and I made these amazing stuffed avocados. We listened to Michele's stories (my favorite was about Terrorist soup) and ate delicious food. Oh food makes me happy. Add friends and stories...possibly my favorite combination.

I keep getting older. Blah. Birthdays past 40 are just a reminder of getting older...unless you have amazing friends who make birthdays a wonderful celebration. I walked into the house to find a Bali themed celebration...batik tablecloth, bamboo straws, and a slideshow of Bali playing on the computer. Of course, I cried.

And then there was the food: spinach salad, quinoa salad, smoothies (even the earthy ones!), and the piece de resistance...chocolate peanut butter cake. Do you see the joy on my face?

I think the most special part of this event is that I've kind of been a recluse these past few months. Maybe it's the cold...maybe it's the age of my children...maybe it's my two jobs...but I just do not socially interact with people as much as I used to. In spite of my somewhat hermit persona, I felt so loved by these ladies.

Actually, my family did an awesome job too. I came home from my gym and the kids had CLEANED THE ENTIRE HOUSE! Best birthday present ever!

Finally, a little about love:

Our family has a tradition of doing a "Love Dinner" on Valentine's Day. Usually, I make a yummy dinner, and Owen and I give Valentine notes to the kids. This year, Elise joined me in the kitchen. We made a Mediterranean chicken served over whole wheat pasta, grilled asparagus, and chocolate dipped strawberries. For dessert, we made these incredible lemon custard tarts. Aren't they beautiful?

I may get grumpy and blue (shall I blame the weather?), but really, I have so much to be grateful for. I love celebrating love. I love when Charlotte says, "Mom you are Awesssssommmme!" (even when I don't feel paticularly awesome). I love when Elise decides to do all the dishes or do a quick organizational task around the house. I love when my son rests his head on my shoulder while we watch a movie. I love seeing Amelia curled up on the couch completely immersed in a book. I love watching Madi reach out and try to cheer up one of her siblings. And I love when my husband buys me white roses...just like he did the day after we became engaged (more than 20 years ago).

Best and Worst

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." - albeit cliche, this Dickens' quote seems fitting as I reflect on 2014. There were certainly bests: 

1.  Travel!! (Uganda, Bali with my husband, Yogyakarta with the family, and Utah this summer).

2.  Career (my fantastic spring semester at JIS and starting again with NOVA this fall).

3.  Seeing my children overcome hurdles and find joy.

4.  Renewing friendships. (This is a big one - the one that got me through all the worsts. More on this to come...).

5.  Seeing the miracle of the "Abbe Dream" come true as we purchased land (2.5 acres!) and started building a house.

And there were plenty of "worsts" (I put it in quotes because it's all relative, right?):
1.  Saying goodbye to a place and people I love.

2.  Going from making a good salary to working for pennies.

3.  No more Yuli. Facing the reality of cleaning my own house again has been VERY VERY hard. I've discovered I really do not like cleaning. I know how this sounds. This sounds incredibly spoiled and whiny. But it truly has been a hard transition for me.

4.  My dear, dear mother fighting cancer. I love you Mom!

5.  Living within a budget (cough cough) again - oh the bills, the car break downs, and more bills!

6.  Helping my people adjust to new schools, and having to figure out how to battle my own blues and re-discovering what makes me happy...here.

Back to the #4 of the bests. Truly what has gotten me through all the hard stuff is people.

From the summer with family 

(Luke - your culinary gifts were such a highlight!)

And Katie...I don't know what I would have done without you this summer. Being with you was the BEST!

to Grand Adventures!

 to a Christmas Eve that was filled with beauty, love, and peace...

It comes down to people. Good, amazing people who inspire me. People who are generous with their love and patience. People who contribute to my "bests" and help me get through my "worsts."

I think 2015 will be crazy - selling our house (Fingers crossed!), moving into our finished house (Fingers crossed!), continuing to develop my career (more about this to come), running races, and, of course, spending time with my most favorite people:

Ok 2015...here we go!

Back in Time

This week has been full of holiday cheer for our family. Sometimes it seems we are too crazy busy - swirling in a tornado of rehearsals, recitals, costumes, and performances. (And the house absolutely looks like a tornado has blown through with dishes and laundry everywhere!) But I so missed performing while living in Jakarta - the traffic was just too paralytic to get people together to practice and perform. So we're feasting on the fun.

Virginia represents the quintessential charm of yesteryear  - how I love the old homes decorated with garlands and candles for the holidays! It is nostalgic and magical. Elise and Madi sang with the Teen Pickwick Singers at the Hillsboro home tour on Saturday. There was a little drama when they realized they were the first to arrive and would need to walk to the house all by themselves fully decked out in Dickens costumes.

But they rallied, put on happy faces, gathered their music and trudged across the lawn to the holiday house.

There was this wonderful moment as I watched them gather their skirts to climb the stairs. They walked side by side, their long hair blew in the wind, and they looked perfectly fitted for the stone fences, white pillared porches, and the rolling hills in the background. I thought they looked timelessly beautiful. Reality returned quickly when Madi turned to flash me a smile and the capital "L" sign on her forehead. How I love these two girls!

They sang their carols in the biting cold. And I hope they will remember this festive event with joy...I know I will.

Thanksgiving Beauty

Beauty is everywhere on this Thanksgiving Day. 

Owen, the girls, and I take a morning run. We want to go far so we can validate eating an extra slice of pie. 

 

We tackle hills, and we talk sometimes. But mostly we just run and breathe.  Beauty is in the wind that bites my cheeks. It is in the sound of our feet crunching on the crusted snow - miniature icebergs on the black asphalt. 

It is in the fields of cut corn filled with geese who scavenge for frozen husks. Beauty is in the shades of brown (who knew brown could be beautiful?) - the brown tree limbs whose bareness reveals crisscrossed patterns, the mottled brown of a darting squirrel, and the deep brown of the dirt roads.

I find beauty in my family. 

 The belly-laugh of Charlotte echoes through the house. Truman's rendition of "Maple Leaf Rag" on the piano entertains us at least five times in a row. There is even a beauty in the frenzy of cooking one hour before departure: Elise cuts the dates, Owen de-pits the olives, Amelia and Charlotte help make the salad, I saute the cauliflower, and Madi suggests a variation on our cauliflower dish (and I find such beauty knowing she will be a wonderful cook!).

I find beauty in traditions. Pies - I feel my grandma, mom, and sister beside me as I roll out the dough.

 

 Elise and I enjoy our newly-acquired tradition of green smoothies at 11AM, and we think of Katie.

I see beauty in friendship. The Davis house is warm and inviting. There is beauty in the spread of food- the sheer volume and colorfulness of it. There is beauty in the smell of fresh rolls. And there is  beauty in the hugs. There is beauty in the welcome I feel - we have, afterall, been gone for three years, and yet these friends still include us. There is beauty in the laughter as board games and card games ensue. And of course, there is beauty in the extra slice of pie!

There is another beauty which is harder to explain. It is the beauty of memory. I think of the past three years, of friends in Jakarta who braved floods and traffic to come to our home. I think of the swaying palm trees, the autumn dip in the pool, and of Yuli working beside me in the kitchen. I think of the Bill's brazilian turkey, of KA's pie buffet, of Lindy's eggnog, of Shana's stories (and spinach dip!), and of Melissa's challah bread. We were thrown together in the "Jakarta crazy," and yet I found such support and joy in these beautiful people. And although I feel a sense of sadness for no longer being with them - the memory is beautiful.

I am grateful for Thanksgiving beauty all around me.

Running in the Dark

To Elise:

Our breath comes as ghostly white puffs barely visible in the dark morning.

We wear fleece gloves, hats, arm warmers under our jackets, and still we are cold. We are strangers to this cold that bites and stings and makes our eyes water. 

The headlamp light bounces before us - a meager aid in finding safe footings. 

Above us the sky is alight with stars. Stars so bright and so numerous. Stars, hidden behind city lights and car exhaust during my three years of running in Jakarta, are now clear. Orion with his three-starred belt remains fixed and steady. So very bright.

Some mornings we barely talk. Just our ragged breathing - a runner's conversation. 

Some mornings we talk. You tell me about school. I tell you about teaching. We joke about being "hardcore runners" when really we confess we're just plain crazy. 

And when we're brave, we reminisce about Jakarta and the things we miss. But those are rare and filled with emotion. Sometimes it's safer to stick to school and teaching - the here and now. 

Of all my coping strategies with this lifestyle change, with returning home where everything is the same but oh so different, these runs with you are most dear. 

Our runs make me feel less lost. My footing becomes more sure. 

Somehow in the dark of morning with the stars above us, it is easier to believe that everything is okay. Even more than okay, everything is beautiful, 

and wonderful, 

and good.