the fam and i took a covation break this week to so-cal because, does it really matter where you zoom from? we all needed a change of scenery and we thought we might get in a final fall surf trip when the oft chilly pacific ocean is at its warmest.
i love beach walks. i swear i could wander in any direction for miles losing track of time and getting lost in thought. i know that isn't super original, but it is my beach thing. i look for sea glass, pray, absorb the beauty and the smells of the sea and get lost in thought.
today, i wandered down the strip of sand for a bit. after i cleared the main drag where most of the beach goers hang, it started to get rocky. i was walking along and noticing the lack of a clean and clear pathway. the beach was covered in rocks which were dry and baking in the sun up against the bluff. grey, dull and rounded from the crashes in the waves that carried them to their final destination or destination for now.
after a bit of this, i wandered down to the waters edge to cool my toes in the surf. and as the sun hit the rocks, it was hard to not notice a drastic change. as they glistened in the water and shone in the sun, their colors were brighter. the contrast deeper. the speckles and stripes and vivid colors popped.
and just like that my God voice kicked in. "tasha, you know that verse, the one where i tell you that i am the living water (john 4:10)? and the other one where i tell you to abide in me (john 15:4)? that is like these rocks- the rocks that are in the water, resting in me are illuminated, accentuated, shining in all their splendor- they are as i have created them with all their gifts."
"and the ones up by the bluff- drying out after crashing upon the shores? they are not shining in their full glory. they are dulled and tired and dried out. beauty is within them. yes. but it can't emerge until the sun shines upon them and they bask in the waters."
and my heart smiled at the way my Father speaks to me- in His time, using His creation, teaching me His lessons for me right now.
i don't know about you, but this covid-life has turned my normal life program upside down. i usually listen to my bible audio while making dinner with earbuds in. since covid has kept the buser five united 24-7 (ish) there is always someone around... talking to ME. it has kept me from my regular scheduled "abide in me- the living water" routine. while it has held a lot of good, it has also been a struggle. i have missed my jesus time and have been trying to figure out when it works best. it has been hard.
i am getting back into a routine, but it hasn't come easy. today was a reminder of what i need to fight for. the space out of the water leaves me dull, sad and not my best version. life is found in Him.
i don't know where you are, but carve it out. put yourself in the water (the bible) and bask in truth because it is really the only place where we shine our best. fight for your time with Him because when you do, he shines upon you and illuminates the best version that you were designed for.
and if you need encouragement or accountability or someone to chat with about any of this... please know you are not alone. i got you.
my mom can name just about any plant. like, literally, ANY plant. she sees it, she names it. she knows it's flowers or it's sun preference or... growing up i was like, "who cares. thanks for sharing. boring."
and then i became friends with a native plant girl. she taught (or tried to teach) me about california natives. we went on day trips to seek out these plants at various nurseries. we would buy too much. share garden envy over really cool native gardens. talk soil, sun and water... you know, all the things that made me go "who cares. thanks for sharing. boring." in my younger years.
i justified it because cali plants were new to me and different and an adventure. really, it was the same as my momma. i liked plants. the difference is that my momma was good at it and i stunk. my garden could never thrive because of the dreaded toxins emitted by our huge black walnut tree. i was destined to fail. but i kept trying, in spite of my lack of knowledge, toxic roots beneath the soil and black thumb.
when we first moved into our california home, i had my friends over for a playdate. she was a dear friend of mine, her eldest was close with e and her second was close with d. we hung together often. the kids were playing. the mommas were chatting. all was right in the world. until...
d came in and said that her mouth was on fire. she was newly 4 at the time. i asked her what happened and her friend reported that they were playing fairies and d had ripped off a plant and licked the stem. oh.
my mom friend and i looked at each other and tried to come up with the best course of action. was this a "call the ambulance", "call the pediatrician", google the image of the plant... or something else. meanwhile, d was in tears and saying that her tongue was on fire. i was leaning toward calling poison control. my friend, suggested that i lick the plant so that i would know what it felt like. she thought that would make it easier for me to explain it to poison control. my gut told me nope. not. bad. don't.
and still somehow, i licked the plant.
it was a moment of very poor judgment.
after a little chit chat with poison control, i learned we had licked something called jack-in-the pulpet. it would be fine... after a few hours of feeling like our mouths were filled with knives. no worries. you might puke, but we're pretty sure you'll be fine. oh, and typically, we don't advise that you lick what your kid licks if it might be poisonous.
cool. my friend left because the playdate was clearly over and d and i were left with our knife slicing mouths to wait it out.
good times.
this weekend, my fam got out of dodge. we had officially had enough of our four walls and needed a change of scenery. we headed out of town for a mountain get-away. on the way, i pointed out this plant that reminded me of a childhood memory. i forced the girlies to take out their airpods and listen to my story.
i told them how when i was little my momma would make me and my sisters pick queen anne's lace in the summer. we would smash the cut flowers between encyclopedias and then wait a few months. after some time had passed, we would remove the pressed flowers and glue them onto the fronts of blank notecards. we would bundle 10 notecards together with their envelopes and gift them to our teachers for christmas. it was always received with rave reviews like, "you made these?", "homemade gifts are the best gifts!", "these look like they are from a fine stationary store!"...
later i became a teacher and i understood that the compliments were exaggerated but the appreciation behind the act of homemade was sincere and lovely. anyone can buy you a mug. handmade gifts showed an appreciation from a family that was next level. i could feel the love in the efforts and it always meant a great deal.
the kids listened to the story but were honestly just as happy when it was over and they could resume airpod music listening.
today on our way home, the buse suddenly put his turn signal on to go off of the country divided highway. i noticed immediately and asked him where he was going.
"to get you some of those flowers from your childhood so you can make some cards."
and my hear skipped a beat. he was listening. he cared. he was honoring my sense of adventure and need to recreate my childhood memories with my girls. and i joked that since we were never going back to school again i would be making my own teacher's appreciation gifts to give to myself.
joke was on me.
the buse and i picked a bundle of flowers and jumped back into the car. we stashed the flowers in the back and they were poking into the seat that poppy was sitting it. she was a good sport.
and my heart was happy.
upon retrurning home, i posted some pics from our trip to facebook. a friend of mine commented that the flowers we had picked might possibly be poison hemlock.
um. what?
what is that?
a little google search returned that they are twinsies plants. one being toxic to ingest and often causing a rash to the skin of one who picks it and the other being this lovely look-a-like plant that has a little blackish/red dot in the center (known to make lovely stationary). i investigated our bunch and much to my dismay, it appears we have the hemlock. ugh.
time will tell if the buse and i (and possibly pops) end up with red welts and some horrible itchy rash.
it's the thought that counts, right? and this girl might be giving up on plants because... well... let's be honest, i just don't have the gift.
regardless of what happens, i am thankful for a hubs who was listening and cared enough to attempt to let me recreate a memory.
this east coast girl still marvels at my west coast lens ten years later. i smile each year when the mountains turn from brown to green in december and then back to brown when the rain stops. it normally happens sometime in the spring. this year, 2020 showed her crazy and waited until june.
i was driving to an appointment last week and was struck by the beauty of the transformation of the mountains changing colors for the season. while driving, i was also praying for a friend who was having surgery to remove cancer. and it struck me, "God, you are the mountain mover." move this mountain for her. eradicate it from her body and her story and her kid's story.
i went on to my appointment and stopped thinking about the beauty of the brown mountains, but the promise of God being the mountain mover lingered in my mind.
this week, my girl was ready to get her license. i had heard that it was easier if we drove to san jose instead of going to our local dmv. and so off we went to get the license. she was nervous as we drove and annoyed with me because i got a call and was on the phone. because i was talking to my sister, i missed the view along the way. that could be a whole different post, right? the things we miss because our lives have so many options and distractions and how our choices take us down paths of opportunity and loss. by picking up the phone, i got to talk to my sister which is always a good choice. she is uplifting and thoughtful and connecting to her always fills my soul. but in choosing that (which is good), i also lost out on alone time with ellie (and missing that is not good). i digress, though. this post is not about that.
we rocked out the dmv 2020 style and social distanced our way through the various stations. and then came the hard part. e handed me the folder with all her documents and we parted ways. she went into the testing area and i took a spot off in a corner where "waiting" was appropriate. while i waited for her to take the test, i decided to rock out a chapter in my devotional, trying to be intentional with time that could have been wasted used for something good.
i finished my reading just as she finished the grading portion of the test. i wasn't sure she would see me so i made my toward her as she walked out. i was trying to read her eyes but because of the mask, i couldn't tell if she was happy or not. when she and i reached each other from the opposite corners of the dmv, she shared the good news that she had passed. i was so happy for her. these rights of passage often catch me by surprise and trip me up. i didn't used to be a crier but sometimes a tear or two slip out when my eldest reaches a milestone moment.
after wiping the tear, off we went. unknowingly, leaving the folder with all the documents on the counter where i had been waiting.
it wasn't until a few hours after i got home that it dawned on me, i had no idea where the folder was. a sick feeling took over. i don't lose stuff, typically. my hubs was not going to be a fan of this mistake. ellie's entire identity was in the folder- birth certificate, two household bills with full address, and social security card. you know, no big deal. ugh.
after a quick look in the car and house, i jumped in the car. i had this sinking feeling that in my excitement to see if e had passed, i had left it on the counter in the corner of the dmv. and so off to san jose i went. 40 minutes later (a covid no traffic win- if there is such a thing), i arrived at the dmv to learn that my papers were nowhere to be found. ugh.
on my way back down the highway to the dmv, this time alone, the mountains spoke to me again. a peace settled into my soul as i remembered the truth that God is in the business of moving mountains. as i drove to the dmv, i wondered if the mountain he was moving was identity theft for my girl. i wondered if it was something else that i wasn't even aware of yet. wonder at the awe of God is always smile inducing.
after my "no" from the dmv, a peace settled over my soul. i can say with certainty, that i just handed over my worry and my "what ifs" to the mountain mover. it was out of my hands.
i arrived home and apologized to the hubs for being so careless and to my girl for the same. scott was gracious and e made funny jokes about maybe someone stealing her identity and applying for credit so she could tap into it since she only has $3 in her bank account.
today, i woke up to my phone ringing. on the other end was sandeepa calling to tell me she had my folder with all of its contents intact. what? for reals.
nobody stole e's identy (causing her to continue to have a tight cash flow, much to her dismay) and nobody threw a random folder sitting on a counter in the dmv into the nearest trash can (which would have caused me years of worry and unknown). and sweet sandeepa, instead of putting it into lost and found for me to retrieve, called yesterday's on-site manager to ask if anyone had come looking for it. and that simple act of kindness led her to my number. which led me to peace of mind.
and so today, i grabbed e, and asked for a do-over. instead of talking to my sister while driving to the dmv, i talked to her. we talked about college, and driving and mountains and the mountain mover. it was a good day.
it was actually a great day. and now i am left wondering what other mountains my God is going to move. he's moved cancer for kendra, and identity theft for e, and spousal abuse for me (just kidding. just kidding.) and he gave me a re-do on my drive time with e, an extra drive where i could marvel at california brown mountains and also gave me a call with my encouraging sister stace.
when i was in highschool, we had an assembly where they brought in this guitarist/folk singer. he sang songs and told stories and was every bit of amazing. i fell in love with his music almost at first strum. he sang songs like "rusty old american dream", "top of the roller coaster" and "last chance waltz". they are part of the anthem of my teenage years.
while living in chicago, it was brought to my attention that he would be playing on a local stage. weirdly, a dear friend of mine (who grew up in south africa), also loved him. we made arrangements to go see him together, with our husbands and a bunch of my friend's cousins.
while driving into the city to meet the group, scott and i had an epic fight. we were in the middle of that yucky place in marriage where couples can find themselves... disconnected, angry, frustrated, feeling unheard/unloved/underappreciated... the list of adjectives to describe that place is long. too long. but we went to the concert, sat with our friends and listened. i cried through most of the lyrics and resented him for not loving/engaging in my thing.
afterwards we went to dinner and ate stinky cheese. kristy remembers the cheese and has referenced it often over the years (the waitress described it as "smelling like a cow pasture". legit. this happened.). and every time she does, i smile, remember the cheese, and then remember the hard part. the part she didn't know about at the time.
shortly after that concert, scott and i found a therapist. we were in a valley. it sucked.
week after week, we paid a sitter and sat on a couch with a therapist that kept saying, "you guys are funny. you are going to be fine. you've got a handle on this."
i hated that he thought we were awesome, but i also am thankful. his belief in us is part of our success.
and over the course of a few months i learned that scott was in it for the staying. with two sets of divorced parents on our hands, i had a really hard time believing this. i wanted a marriage that could go the distance. i did. but i also didn't believe that it was a guarantee. marriage was hard. really, really hard.
over time, with tools from our therapist, we climbed out of the valley.
and then we went through the birth of another child, a move to california, another bar exam (ugh), a long commute and the stripping of our friends/community/support system.
and we were right back in that place again. the valley. again, it sucked.
one morning my sisters called me and said something to the effect of, "hey, we want to come alongside. we want to just pray for you guys each week. with you. on the phone."
and for several weeks, we began this weekly phone call of prayer. and heather and stacy prayed for my marriage. it was super weird and yet everything that i needed at that time.
as a person who passionately believes in prayer, i had just never wanted to surrender this thing, this marriage to my father god... in spite of the fact that i believed God could glue it back together. i know. weird. but for me, i was raised to be a "can do" girl. my life story was "gonna figure this out"and "fiercely independent". not super congruent with my beliefs in God but also survival strategies that had served me well. until they didn't. because independence and marriage just don't jive.
week after week, i struggled to surrender to God. i failed to yield and get out of the way. my "fix it" and scott's "fix it" would be enough. and then it wasn't.
and ten years after THAT, we found ourselves in a similar hard patch. and in the hard we have learned that marriage therapy is our jam. seriously. every few years, we need someone to affirm our trials and give us tools that will move us forward.
but 17 years into that story, i have learned more about us than i knew at the beginning. scott is here for the long haul. i never really believed that. my dad left. his dad left. i had a failed engagement. his mom never believed we would end up together. so many doubts in my head and i projected them all onto him.
wrongfully.
and as i wrap my head around the fact that the buse is in it for the staying and the stuff beneath the surface- no matter what. i am also aware that this song goes so much deeper.
i try to hide all of this from my father.
the god that knows all of it because he wrote the story. isn't that funny? how interesting that we try to conceal all of our deepest secrets from the one that knows each and every part?
and so as we rock into 2020, i have to reflect and i have to wonder... have you given God the hard part? have you surrendered your deepest crevices? are you willing to let Him heal them? He knows them already, regardless of your posture, and He wants to redeem them.
"go to your darkest place and i will meet you there. you've got a whole heart. give me the hard part. i can love that too."
my life story tells me that this is truth. scott loves me in spite of my hard parts (so many) and my father God loves me in spite of them, too.
the buse and i saw david wilcox in concert a few weeks ago and three songs in, he sang my jam. he sounds just as good now as he did so many years ago. his lyrics are transformative.
i love that Scott and i have a story with "hard parts" and i love that we have navigated them together.
