A Summer Summation

I'm just briefly dropping in to declare how thoroughly I am enjoying the summer. I will never pretend to have a perfect life (how boring that would be anyway!), but there are noteworthy things that make me grateful at every bend. Even the hot, sultry heat we had is worthy of thanksgiving; there's something so wonderful about stripping off a few items of clothing after an arduous and sweaty run and taking a plunge in the pool. I'll admit it's slightly indecent, and I never would have broken so many rules of proper conduct before, but - ah! - how freeing! And then when the temps change and cool down, how appreciative we are for restful nights once more.

My kids are all at such fun stages! Okay, it's true I've always said this, but I've always meant it with the utmost sincerity. Every stage has been my favorite. Here are just a few things that have stood out recently:

*There is an added hilarity to a boy's jokes when his voice is changing and cracking. I look at him and marvel at the person he is morphing into. Also, I am frequently alarmed by the sound of a man's voice coming from the boys' bedroom! Oh yeah, it's just my Andrew.

*I white-knuckled my first few rides as the passenger in a vehicle driven by Michael. I'm pretty proud of myself, though, for maintaining normal speaking and breathing patterns despite my distress. Teen drivers make me feel super young with adrenaline, and super old for having teen drivers.

*I had a late night talk with my boys about girls and crushes that made me gush with joy! Wait, what?! He's telling me this? What a privilege.

*A text that reads "I love you" from a son sailing way out in the Pacific while I'm way up in the Rockies is something worth savoring.

*Kitchen work is most pleasant with my girl who cracks jokes and makes me laugh because life is so good and funny.

*Kids that say, "Thanks, Mom, for doing this for us," when in truth I am equally loving all the trips to the beach, sleepovers, ice cream stops, and get-togethers.

*Reuniting. And lingering conversations around the barn wood table long after plates are cleared, while the setting sun and balmy ocean breeze amplify the magical ambiance of the moment.

*Watching a brother-sister bear hug after a time away is pretty rad.

And marriage? Well, I'm pretty sure it just gets better with time. Seasoned. And in many ways we get to relive our younger years before our babies came because we are too young to have kids beginning to fly the coup. We'll ring in 21 years tomorrow, the age of adulthood. For the record, I plan on us living a bit like we're in our twenties for the the next decade!

Jon and I sat across from each other on our overnight getaway and marveled, a bit teary eyed, at the goodness of God expressed in the people he has blessed us with through this marriage. We don't take this gift casually, this gift of raising and loving our children. It has all been so wonderful.

Tonight we are all back under one roof again, now that my boys are back from New Mexico. They clocked their ride from door to door at about 26 hours each way, mainly by bus. But by all accounts it was entirely worth it, and it is a thrill to hear them tell of the things they enjoyed the most. A testimony of God's saving work and the resulting transformation in the life of their small group leader seemed to have made an enormous impact. How grateful I am. I prayed fervently for God to give them sensitive spirits that are open to His love and transforming power, and eager for His forgiveness and invitation to relationship. This, I am sure, will be a life-long prayer, but it will always be marked with thanksgiving to a God who delights to save.

Olivia wrapped up an amazing 6-month internship today at a marketing firm, and we are now transitioning to getting her ready to move into a dorm in a few short weeks. The days we have left will all be savored in their entirety, even though I can only aspire to fully enter her joy and excitement.


~Katherine

Some Feelings on Thoughts

There is a moment here tonight to complete the notes started last week. We are a household of tired people. My younger boys are completing their work for the day- history, literature, and guitar practice- and I hope to see them tucked in by 9PM. Gone are the days when bedtimes were predictable. Michael has a late night with an English paper due tomorrow and a math test to take before his 7AM class, while Olivia plans on doing some exercise before setting up for her day of work/internship. Jon is at a meeting this evening. Here I sit with my workout clothes and apron, typing. 

We’ve had some weather recently in our part of the world. That is to say, there’s been a little change from the near constant sunny and perfect temp to coldish and wet. It seems ridiculous to say and almost like an insult to those enduring actual long, bleak months, but this “winter” seems to be dragging on!

The parts I like best about all the rain is how the world seems to be pressure washed clean and the ground is sprouting greenery in abundance. The urge to be in the wild has been strong, so this past holiday Monday we took the opportunity to romp around in the wild.

We stopped on our drive up to collect moss and fern for the boys' terrariums. We later discovered that the road was washed out; we had a grand time slipping and bumping precariously along to the trailhead.

Nature escapes are escapes indeed. It’s a break from the constant, never-ending tasks of life. It’s a place to just be, a place to exhale and breathe anew. For as long as I can remember, nature has been a safe place to feel, or not feel, to think, or not think. Whatever is needed deep in my spirit, nature is like a gentle balm that nurtures my being. It’s a place where I don’t have to just do the next thing, but simply let enjoyment and restoration have its way. This is weird to most people, I’m sure, but how thankful I am to know such a place exists for my well-being.

“Just do the next thing.” This has been a motto for me when the tasks seem overwhelming, when the immediate needs are beyond my ability to meet, or when the sorrows of life inundate. I believe this motto was popularized by Elisabeth Elliot in years past. It was a calming phrase when my kids were little and when chaos seemed to describe my daily existence. “Just do the next thing.” I’d tell myself to just get up and work, to focus on the task at hand instead of worry about the enormity of all that needed to be done; to keep moving, to disregard exhaustion; to strategize and plan for the sake of maximizing efficiency; to meet needs as they came, triage and prioritize when they came in waves. Then when my head would hit the pillow at night, and many things were left undone, I’d know that I was only responsible for doing my best. If I had kept myself from slacking off, then I could have confidence I had done everything in my power to faithfully carry out my work.

I’m still a lot like that.

“Just go.”
“Just do it.”
“Next thing.”
“Push.”
“You can do this.”
“Don’t stop.”

This mental discipline has been a huge help to me. It’s a mental discipline that says, “Do what you’ve committed to doing without thinking of why you don’t feel like doing it.” In other words, “Stop thinking about how you feel about it.”

I’ve come to learn that my feelings want to bully my resolve to accomplish a goal, until my mind begins to justify why I should give up. If I’m not careful, I can then give in to what my mind is telling me. On the other hand, I’ve also learned that if I succeed in keeping my feelings and mental dialogue in check, I will be surprised and thankful for what is actually possible. Side note: Running has made this particularly plain to me, and I love how discipline in one area of life is reflected in others.

My kids see me doing this as a way of life. For instance, with running and the unfavorable recent weather, my words come out forbidding my complaint and urging resolve. The clouds loom dark and near, my skin protests in goose-bumps, and my kids hear me say, “I just can’t think about it. I’m just going to go.” And I do.

Again and again recently, I find myself miles from home pressing my body into the wind, numb, but moving. Then the rain comes, sometimes like cold crocodile tears, or like prolonged, sloshy, cold mist, or like sharp needles jabbing with the cold Pacific wind. The other day was my short, but intense, running day; I had intervals and hills to conquer. I misjudged the sunny sky and wore shorts and a t-shirt… and then got pelted with hail.

Sometimes I wish for someone to come rescue me, someone to drive by and offer a ride, or my husband or daughter to come find me. But then I wonder if the joy of finishing despite the discomfort is better.

Running often makes me think of life: Maybe God doesn’t rescue us from trial because he knows perseverance is better for us than rescue. Or maybe rescue only comes after perseverance has been learned- two gifts rather than just one. Probably there’s no easy, blanket statement answer and we must just press on.

I’m good at commitment. Is that OK to say? I see that I probably stick to my commitments a little more resolutely than most, and sometimes I would do better to be more relaxed, less personally invested, and more accepting of the fact that not all commitments are equal. I can be committed to commitment.

But I am learning there are times when just doing the next thing isn’t best. There are times when the resolute mind must give way to feeling; the mind must take into account the senses, the gut feelings, the emotions. There can be huge problems with thinking without feeling. God created both internal faculties for our good. Feelings have to inform our thinking, or we can become numb to life and robotic, even becoming legalists hardened to grace.

God doesn’t desire mere sacrifice. Scripture passages that comes to mind right now are regarding the sacrifices of thanksgiving and the sacrifice of a repentant heart. These are precious to God. They are both sacrifices that are expressed by feelings far more than action. Action that is pure and without hypocrisy will then follow the feeling.

I think we err greatly when we believe and teach, “Just obey. It doesn’t matter how you feel about it.” Why doesn’t it matter? Surely God wants our feelings to be rightly aligned. It was so helpful for me to realize that God’s sanctifying power reaches even to my emotions. Of course we must not let our emotions rule us, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter.

Feelings matter tremendously. For example, how your children feel about your rules and commands do matter. Yes, obedience must be required, but conversations about feelings are not to be view as a threat to parental authority. The weak parent is personally treatened and seeks to suppress opposing feelings; the wise parent seeks to draw out the deep things of the heart. What if you found out something about your child’s heart that leads to closeness in relationship, or deeper conversation about eternal things? What if allowing them to verbalize their feelings exposes YOUR sin of harshness, unreasonable expectation, pride in wielding your parental power, or tendency to exasperate them? Wouldn’t that be far better to know?

Reject emotion and you reject the person. Think about that.

Also, we can easily settle into routines of merely doing without feeling in marriage: doing what we've mentally learned we should do, but doing it without affection. We “obey” God in the sense that we are performing our marital roles, but we can do them entirely without emotion. I’m pretty certain that is never what God intended in relationships. Is it possible to love without feeling? I’m so tired of hearing that love is an action! I don’t want such a puny little love of duty. No. Train your mind and heart to cultivate loving feelings. Pray earnestly for it, with perseverance. Don’t settle for being at the mercy of feelings haphazardly coming or going, or believing that nothing can be done.

I feel compelled to pose the question because of the prevalence of certain situations: What about the toxic relationship wherein your feelings are screaming at you in desperation, your whole being is coming apart because of the wicked (demonic) behavior of another? Should it still be mind-over-feeling?! God didn’t give you feelings about the situation merely to torment you further.

Thoughts and emotions are both vital, God-created both elements of our personhood for our good and well-being. We are not meant to employ one over the other.

I have erred greatly in this area over the course of my life. Emotional preservation and responses became default patterns in situations where preservation was no longer needed. When backs turned and there was fear, hurt, and loss of security, I intentionally ignored feeling. I learned to “Just do the next thing.” I taught myself to suppress negative feeling, to reject emotion. How evident this was to me when I recently heard myself repeat out loud, “Just don’t feel,” in the midst of a painful situation.

I don’t think we ever succeed at this scheme of not feeling; we only damage our willingness and ability to experience ALL of the rich array of emotion we’ve been gifted, even the good.

But we must never lose hope. We are never too far gone, too far down the road of life to learn anew. There is always opportunity to unlearn or relearn. We hope in God who creates new life— he is the giver of life and he gives it abundantly. And we can find further hope in knowing that God binds himself to us through a promise (a binding contract that has no basis in emotion), AND a loving, personal, emotion-filled relationship. He has pledged to me his love, and he is shaping me more and more into his image so that I can emulate him and love like him.

I don’t pretend to have the answers for how to manage thinking and feeling... or anything else in life. Life and circumstances are complex. All I know for sure is that I am desperately needy for help!

I have hope in God: He helps his children through his Spirit and his Word, and by the use of my mind AND my feelings, I can follow with perseverance and faith.

~Katherine

Chasing

It's warm here in this corner of the world, and not at all like the cold, damp wind my mother described this past weekend, or the frost and sleet I normally associate with November. I've lived in southern California a good long time now, but the warm November temps still catch me off guard. I kinda love this weather, even though I can't figure out how to incorporated fall decor when my backyard rose bushes are producing such lovely pink blossoms. I'm clipping them daily and bringing them in because they are far prettier to me than orange gourds. I should have worn a summer dress today.

Saturday night was unusually foggy, though. I really loved it. It was well into the evening before I was able to head out for my Saturday run. Saturday runs are almost non-negotiable in my mind, but since it was late I had decided on a shorter run than planned. But the ocean spray, dark and misty air, and silent plumes of fog wafting passed me were just too alluring. I kept on running, hardly mindful of the fact that wherever I stopped to turn around would only mark the halfway point. I arrived home all wobbly-legged over two hours later, satisfied. I had chased fitness goals, mental clarity, and peace on a foggy night.

Jon had a fire crackling when I came in. I don't know, but maybe the fog and the fire cast a romantic spell on us; we entirely lost that supposed "extra hour of sleep" of November time change.

Marriage has proven to be hard. We were warned like all couples are warned, and then we learned from experience. We've also learned to persevere, to keep pressing into our relationship. In a rush to get out one evening last week, we had packed a selection of cheese, cured meats, crackers, fruit, and nuts from the kitchen, along with a blanket. Jon sped down the freeway in his GTI like a 19 year-old punk. At age 40 I should be afraid of such driving, but speed really doesn't faze me. We were chasing the sunset, chasing romance. We found our sunset, then later a spot on the crest of the cliff to set up our little dinner under the darkening sky. If you had been watching us, you wouldn't have seen us smiling much. Life isn't like the movies, but it can be so, so sweet nonetheless.

Press into it. Chase after the good stuff with intention and perseverance. And maybe try to kiss a lot.

San Francisco 7/2018

~Katherine

Notes on Relationships

Slowly, I'm sorting through summer pictures. It struck me that my camera has been in my bag for many weeks now because I hardly ever think to pull it out in the midst of my days. Anyone have photo challenges or projects they've done and would recommend? No 365 projects, please, as manageability is key for me. 

The kids and I took several exploration day trips this summer. We're at a point in family life where I can't expect everyone to be available and willing for all of my plans, so I take what I can get. Mostly, it is still the case that my kids do want join, so I am thankful. Below are pictures of two such occasions.

Belmont Park-

We each got to pick a ride or activity here. Of course Jack picked climbing, and Andrew joined me on the coaster.

Michael, in the heat and the sun, proved that he's not an amusement park kinda guy and he got sick just watching us! Olivia opted for a pastry, because...

Look what we found! Beavertails has made it to the U.S. They were my first real employer as a kid after a couple years of babysitting. The kids have heard me tell of my many jobs...

I had a polo shirt uniform which I always wore with black shorts, my black Converse, a hat, and a hunter green apron. I worked in the booth alone, opening and closing, taking inventory, daily accounting, and occasionally keeping the money float in my bedroom when our safe was compromised. Once I burned three fingers and knuckles in the fryer oil right in the middle of a busy rush, that time of day tourists arrived by steam train to look through my town. I tried not to cry but one customer noticed my pain and ran to an nearby restaurant to get me a cup of ice. It was a kind gesture, but impossible to continue shaping, frying, and flavoring the pastries with one disabled hand resting on ice. So I just kept working. Often, I had creepy men hang around the back door when there were no customers around and the sun had set. Sometimes my manager's loser boyfriend would come and "check on things" and I knew enough to at least make sure the counter island was always between us. If I could manage, I'd slowly circle around till the door was nearest to me, but usually he kept me cornered. He was super creepy even when my manager was around but inattentive. I was 13 when I took that job, and it helped pay for my clothes that year. 

Canadian Beavertails are not the same near the Mexico border, but we shared one nonetheless. Now my kids know how a pastry can be a beaver tail.

Point Loma-

Severely overexposed images above and below, but I like nonetheless.

Andrew's summer hair. I love long, sun-bleached, salt-damaged summer hair on a boy. One of my favorite things ever. And the tiny blond hairs on the back of their necks... slay me now.

San Diego with just my boys-

When your teenage boy wants to make a memory together in front of a mural, you don't let the opportunity pass... even if that means hiking up your skirt and making it mini-er. Life is more than man-made rules regarding codes of conduct and dress; I don't intend on letting the good stuff pass me by because, um, what again?

He's 6'3" now.
And after a summer of racing sailboats with a crew of experienced men, he shared some knowledge and stories with me as we walked along the water. His captain tells me Michael has unusual intuition for sailing and has learned exceptionally fast. Plus, it turns out that his tall and lean physique makes him an advantage on a racing sailboat. When I asked if maybe I could ride with him on one of the races, he looked at me seriously and said, "Mom, we try to keep the boat as light as possible."

I picked up some personal ice-cream cartons for the kids on our way home that day, where we met up with Olivia by the pool. The joke this summer was about Andrew's tan and the fact that his nipples were nearly camouflaged. This picture didn't capture the tone quite right, but when you live with lots of boys you can be sure to hear the most random things. Like camo nipples.

>:<

Coffee shop again. It's becoming an unintentional Monday ritual.

I’m waiting to pickup my boys and their friend, and taking the opportunity to sit and be still. I decided to try a different option from the Starbucks nearby— the one that keeps serving my pour-over coffee cold, or a spoiled almond milk latte. It’s the Starbucks that is filled with people I might sort of know or recognize, but don’t really want to enter into conversation with. I get a couple hours a week alone, and I’m not the personality type that wants to give it up on small talk and pleasantries. Introverts understand.

But this stuffy place is, well, empty for a reason. They call themselves a French bakery, but it’s not. The faded, white lace curtains don’t fool, but only add to the bland, generic decor. The coffee is blah, the pastries look meh, and the only employee is not French but rather the furthest image of French imaginable. The first table I sat at wobbled so bad my coffee spilled, and the electronic sensor at the door beeped and blandly said, “Hello, welcome,” when the only other customer left. There is no wifi, just the female voice that now keeps repeating “Hello, welcome” to nobody. By the time I arrived here, my two hours had diminished to less than an hour, so I decided to stay and support a local small business. :/ 

I’ve been pulling my journals out recently. I’ve got far too many to keep track of. Some are for personal study notes, some for lists of thanksgiving, some for thoughts jotted down or notes gathered, one for points of affirmation I see in others which I hope to repeat when opportunity comes. Others contain scraps of more notes, quotes, and keepsakes. One small journal stays in the car and contains the addresses of fun places (aka “secret places”) to explore in different cities or towns.

The act of hand writing helps me to remember. It’s how I studied for tests in school and how I stay concentrated at church. Writing helps the evolution of understanding and impresses the things I learn on my heart and mind. Journaling assists me in recalling the goodness of God in my life. It helps me take in the good stuff I am learning - at times disjointed - and assists me to respond with some clarity.

I’ve had a lot of thoughts in my life about not being enough— not measuring up. Insecurities abound. I don’t want to get into an explanation, or go into defense mode about why I need to work through some faulty thinking. I only want to type into this blog (my public journal) a few words I found in one of my journals, because I am fairly certain this might be helpful to some. These were likely notes scribbled out on the go, and today as I type them out I know they are not perfectly cohesive. This is the freedom of a personal journal. It’s a spilling out of thoughts. I’ve omitted some things and added a bit more today, even if in the back of my mind I think I've already shared similar thoughts here.

Notes on parenting and thoughts on NOT being enough: 

I am not enough. Not for my husband, not for my kids. Not for extended family or friends, or church members, or neighbors. 

Just accept. Acknowledge.

This is not necessarily a conversation you need to have with everyone in your life, but it might be a worthwhile topic with your kids. Validate what they already know.

Yes, it is true my kids feel unloved by me at times; I cannot meet all emotional, material, physical, and whatever-else needs. I can try in frustration and disappointment, or I can accept the limitations God places on me and on all human capability. I need to accept the fact that my kids will be disappointed in me. They just will. In fact, they may grow up even resenting me for doing or not doing certain things.

Here's the thing: If I could love fully, reaching each heart and caring for needs perfectly, then my kids wouldn't see and feel their need for God. How could they, if I could perfectly satisfy? I can't do that for anyone, just as we should never expect to find perfect satisfaction in anyone save God alone. It's a futile pursuit. Probably even idolatrous.

On the other hand, be humble enough to acknowledge their hurt. It's not up to me to decide/judge what hurts and if it should be counted as hurt. If someone communicates being hurt, acknowledge and seek to do differently, without minimization of their feelings. Seek forgiveness as often and as fully as necessary.

{By the same token, release any bitterness you may have against your own parents. It is a fact of life that every generation looks back and wishes they were treated, led, instructed, befriended, etc. differently. My kids will do the same. In all probability, your parents did the best they knew how. Release bitterness and refuse to join a generation of finger pointers. If you are not who you want to be today and you blame your parents, consider that it may be time to FREE yourself through forgiveness. Then begin the hard work of becoming who God created you to be. This is humble maturity. Welcome to adulthood. You were never meant to be fully prepared for life by your parents' efforts alone.}

No one is created to meet another's needs perfectly... Not in parenting, not in marriage, not in any relationship. No one will ever feel I am enough. And just as I am not capable of fully satisfying another, I cannot begin to expect to find that full satisfaction in, say, my husband, kids, family, or friends.  This is God's design and plan, and it draws us to a relationship far more satisfying in Him. If we fail to understand this, we are prone to disappointment, depression, conflict, rejection, and even abuse as we try to bend and mold and make another what we desire. I think this is of particular danger within families. If we try to find full satisfaction in a human relationship, there will be a type of selfishness that is destructive and yields suffering. Guaranteed.

Along similar lines... Conflict comes when we try to change people to make them like us because we think we're better.

So watch out. Unless we're mindful and prayerful, we naturally slip into some awfully destructive  patterns, and on these we build our relationships and the stories of our lives.

~Katherine

Communication

"We find out that good communication requires more intentionality and pursuit and careful listening and humility and persistence and perseverance and real love than we originally expected or probably wanted to give. But if we really press into it, we tend to discover far more about that person than we knew before and experience new levels of intimacy and friendship with them. If we don’t, we won’t. 

The same is true of God."

-jon bloom

~Katherine

SF + 40

"Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January." 
-Hal Borland

I have determined to enjoy summer and to savor all its goodness deep down to the core. Like diving deep into refreshing water, I'm swimming long and intently sensing the balm to my body and being. August brings an urgency to savor the loveliness of summer as it begins to conclude.

I've purposed MORE:

more listening-- noting laughter, quiet mornings, wind, waves, words especially

more looking-- in the eyes, at what is important to others, at summer light, summer hair, summer skin

more swimming-- just to get in there often with my kids, even if it messes my hair!

more savoring-- no other summer will be like the last as each year brings much change

more reading and meditating-- freedom in Christ being the goal

more gratefulness-- for this day, this season of time, this life, these people

more yes-- to what matters 

And LESS:

less concern-- for schedules, for housework, for makeup and coiffed hair

less expectation-- letting go of perfection and what I could otherwise be doing

less condemnation-- intentionally accepting differences, maturity, human struggle and imperfection

less hurry-- For crying out loud, we've needed a break!

As it always happens, summer goes by far too quickly. I'm happy with the productive/unproductive ratio, as both sides have had their beneficial affects.

Ah, summer! It is my absolute favorite, but it would benefit no one to last forever. So I will accept the coming of another season with its demands and expectations for the growth and development it will bring.

>>:<<

These pictures have been sitting here in a saved post for several weeks now. My computer time has been spent mostly with repairing some issues I've experienced with my blog (an infuriating amount of time, actually), but my mind and heart have composed words and felt sentiments for my husband all summer long. These things have been tucked away in my heart, or repeated to the Lord in thanksgiving, because both my heart and my God don't need eloquent words to communicate precise meaning. I am gravely inept with words, especially spoken words. I would love to be a woman who speaks affection, appreciation, and affirmation with ease. Isn't it silly that there is difficulty in clearly saying what we long to say? I will continue to fight against inhibition. Despite my impediment, my heart is big for Jon, and the things I feel towards him are difficult to express in letters and words across a white screen.

If it was written that the soul of David and Jonathan were knit together, I can venture to say without mushy sentimentality that I feel inseparable to Jon in the same way. I'm not sure what that really means - for two souls to be knit together - but the invisible connection or interwoven oneness of two separate beings is an apt description when I think of my husband, my own Jonathan.

And it's sort of laughable, too! Truly, we could hardly be any more different. The saying "opposites attract" couldn't ring truer! But life is full of surprises, and after 19 years of marriage we are seeing ways in which we have become more similar. We have also seen that our differences have served to enhance us as a team, or else to conform us to Christ-likeness. So that's a win/win, if we choose to look at it this way.

We had the opportunity to fly to San Francisco for a few days last month in celebration of Jon's 40th. Jon is a city-loving man, and exploring SF was such a delight for our family. Take me to a city with character and beauty, and I will love it, too. (So far my favorite US cities have been NYC, Boston, and SF. Although full of character, LA couldn't woo me... and I honestly tried.)

The views of aqua water over light-colored structures and homes was spectacular. The hills... hills call me anywhere. I pictured myself running the stairs and side streets everyday if I lived there, breathing in the cool air.

As we always do when exploring a city, we did a ton of walking. Sometimes we'd park the car just to climb stairs that ran the length of several blocks. Each street and every view captivated us, and the gardens always called our attention.

Lombard Street, below.
We drove it twice and walked it up and down. We exchanged picture taking with another family, and yes, apparently my hand was beginning to undress my husband. I am hopelessly awkward.

We nearly always explore China Town wherever we go. The kids found a fun treat to try, and I enjoyed looking at all the green veggies.

Clothes hanging to dry is something I am familiar with. I grew up hanging our clothes, except ours was a line that ran from the corner of the house, passed a large maple tree, and over the edge of the field. I'm guessing that our clothes smelled better than these, but I can appreciate using what's available to meet a need.

The wharf was a favorite place. Here, Andrew and Olivia danced to the music while we searched out a yummy place for lunch.

Pier 39 was Andrew and Jacob's favorite, closely followed by restaurants where bowls of clam chowder were served in real SF sourdough bread.

Andrew loved the unicycle show. This unicycling boy of mine has come to realize that he can earn money with the assistance of his single-wheeled ride, just in a different way than the man we watched. For Andrew, his unicycle has endeared him to new "clients" in our neighborhood, and then his reputation for dependable work has led to more opportunities.

Watching the show...

The Painted Ladies

It was a good thing we didn't pack a lunch for this grassy knoll, as I'm sure we would have irritated all the other people trying to take pictures.

We knew SF was going to be cool, but we weren't expecting it to be frigid in July. Here, at the end of the day, we were frozen stiff. My Canadian blood has run thin. (At least my hand was behaving as we exchanged pictures again.)

Our second full day began with walking Golden Gate back and forth. The fog was really spectacular and the cold was extra bitter, but there was no way we could leave the city without walking its famous bridge.

Silenced

Art deco

Power

Solitude

Middle

Lesson for life: Search for beauty when your world is dark and heavy. Hold on to hope.

Lesson for life: The fog will lift. Always hope.

16th Avenue Tiled Steps. 

SF is the dreamiest Stair Master city.

Quiet places for people to sort out the things of the heart, or to sit in silence. In my opinion, these spaces are critical to consider if you're into city planning. Also, in my opinion, these spaces are underused because people haven't learned the value of out-of-doors quiet places, or of sorting out the heart.

So Jon hit the 40-year mark in July. It was a soft enough hit, but a hit nonetheless. Does anyone anywhere like to age, even in cultures where youth is not glorified? My turn will come next year, and I'm not sure it will be a soft hit. I'm hoping I won't take it like a punch in the gut.

Why is 40 such a defining mark? Why is it that goals are set to be reached by the this age? Who said 40 ought to be such a big deal?

I don't know.

One thing I do know, however, is that I'm thankful for Jon's 40 years, thankful that he's chosen to live [most of] those years with me, thankful for the man he has become. He is an extraordinary person, with talents and gifts that most don't understand because he has chosen to use his life to serve others rather than himself.

He is a precious man who has followed his Savior in his love for the church. This has been demonstrated by setting asides personal goals and aspirations for the good of the church every single day. Few realize the extent of this, but I know the Lord sees and I pray that He would bless and encourage.

Jon has also followed Christ in his sacrificial love for me, always striving to live with me in an understanding way. He has sought to know me well in order to love me well. I regularly hear him say, "I just want you to be happy." He lives out this desire for me even in ways I don't always see or know. I have not deserved or demanded this, but it has been the grace of God in my life to have such a man as this.

God's beautiful design for marriage is evident in this: That Jon's love for me only fuels my desire to love and serve him back. With the help of God, we are enabled to do this.

~Katherine