A Fijian Love Affair

February 16, 2015February 17, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 7 Comments

I often dream about whales and dolphins. Maybe my subconscious reminiscing on the days when my family used to drive along the Hawaiian coastlines and I’d ride with my 7 year old face pressed up against the glass, eyes glued to the water just watching for the inevitable water spout to blow. I think maybe there begins my love affair with water, as Mr. Paisley would surmise.

I love water. I love being near the water watching the waves. I love being on the water in a kayak or paddle board or sail boat or speed boat. I love being in the water jumping waves or hand-standing into the tide. It just brings such peace and a simple love for God’s bluest creation. My heart smiles when I sit at my favorite Kirkland park watching the sun set over Lake Washington. It smiles when I drive over those Clearwater bridges, beach-day bound. And now I know for certain, it smiles when I sway in a hammock, with a book in tow basking in the sparkly Fijian sun looking out over the crystal clear blue water. It just does a heart good.

Fiji was what I hoped it would be. It was relaxing for my body, calming for my soul and refreshing for my water-lust-ways.

We didn’t do a whole lot at the Beach House, but what we did we did well. A jaunt down to Sigatoka, lots of reading, lots of hammocking and kayaking and makeshift snorkeling.

We ate beautiful local fruits and toast and jam at breakfast time, homemade banana scones at tea time and the freshest fish burgers at dinner time, encored with a bowl full of kava for ‘dessert’—it’s as disgusting as my fellow backpackers warned—but an obligatory chug, nonetheless.

We made jewelry from coconuts that daring local hands pushed out of the palm trees from 50 feet up. We watched the tides roll in and out, made new friends from countries near and far and sipped bottled water out of—wait for it—Fiji Water bottles.

It rained most days, but I found those quiet moments of pitter patter on the woven palm roofs soothing in a way I’d never let rain sooth. It is water afterall; just the type of water that typically annoys me. But when you’re sprawled out on a hand carved bench under an open-air bungalo-type structure with nowhere to be, no concern for how you look or ruining your shoes, the water falling from the sky actually feels as wonderful as the bucketed-land-water I adore.

Yep. Fiji water bottles, a good steady afternoon rain and some bobbing in the teal blue waves really helped wash away departure week. Here’s to hoping for more affairs with the wet stuff that does a mending heart good.

Sweet Like Sugar Cane

February 9, 2015February 9, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 3 Comments

Like I said before, I miss people hard. That said, reunions are one of my purest joys. Waking up at 4:45am bright eyed and bushy tailed can only mean one thing in my world–it’s a sweet reunion day [[the near 20 hours of shut eye I snagged between plane naps and my own version of de-jet-lagging surely helped]].

Kara

Kara looks tan and strong and the most care-free, peaceful version of Kara I’ve ever seen [[you should prob check out her blog too!]]. Praying it rubs off on me sooner than later. She’s basically Fijian, now that I think about it, as that’s how I’d describe these beautiful locals too. Big toothy smiles, hearty laughs and a ‘slow down, it’s Fijian time’ attitude screams Fiji island life.

A two hour bus ride later, we landed at The Beach House…this place is where I’ll finish up my departure-week-detox, that I’m sure of. Hammocks galore swing from those palm trees I’ve missed. People–all kinds of people–British people and German people and Boston people are barefoot and happy. The beach is right there. I mean RIGHT there. ‘No Woman No Cry’ is blaring while those people are huddled up making coconut jewelry, waiting for the rains to pass, shooting pool and shooting the shit. It’s kind of heaven on earth–on a traveler’s budget.

This kind of living must do a soul good. I know for certain, actually, as a 90 year old man, born in the neighboring town took us on a jungle trek this morning. We stomped through orange mud for 2 hours, stopped for pictures with the pineapple crops and sucked on sweet, juicy sugar cane, tripping our way through lush greens just for a dip in the waterfalls. God must have known we were lovin it, cause he opened up the heavens for a second waterfall on the trek back home.

Soaked to the bone and not a care in the world…we are definitely not in Woodinville anymore.

Yep, this was a particularly sweet reunion… Sweet like sugar cane, even.

Cruising Altitude

February 6, 2015February 6, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 6 Comments

I did it. I have no idea how, but I did it.

Sitting on my first leg of this journey, it dawned on me–I’m officially jobless, carless and homeless. To some, perhaps the definition of failure. To me, the definition of a triumphantly bittersweet starting line. At the finish line, however, I want to remember this moment with clarity—so here it goes. The things I’m thinking about from cruising altitude:

1. This week sucked. There is no tactful way to say it. It was brutal and overwhelming and emotionally / physically exhausting. It utterly kicked my butt. Moving my things out of the Villa and into a storage unit; soaking up a few more precious visits with the sweetest friends; phone call after phone call to bank after bank; a painstakingly slow chore to check one to-do-item off my list at a time…I admit it. I broke down more than a handful of times. We’re talking huge crocodile tears with the pouty lip I didn’t even know you retained post-18-months old. But it’s over. Just as Jodi taught me to utter, ‘everything always gets done.’ Thanks, Jodi. You were right.

2. There are angels on my side. Not the glowing-haloed kinds, per se, but the real fleshy kinds that cushioned my blows, lifted my spirits, fueled my body and carried me through this week. The most precious part? I don’t even think they realize that they are in fact, real-life angels. From Kara’s pops who rescued my move when I finally accepted that I could not, against all of my mighty convictions, move my household goods by myself; to the sweet couple who bought my beloved Tucson and gave me every grace imaginable; to Kelli, who in the 12th hour grabbed my hands as I broke down in her shop [[hello, big crocodile tears]] and took in my wedding dress to help me sell it, or donate it or at this point, WHATEVER with it; to my girls and their hubbies who gave me a hot shower, a glass of wine, a vent-sesh and a good nights sleep; to my cousin Kristen, who delights my heart with her perfectly-timed thoughtfulness and grounds me in love and gratitude[[more to come on our story]]…yes, those are my angels, among many. Thank you Lord, for them.

3. My bags are heavy. Packing for 6 months or 9 months or somewhere in between is as challenging as you’d imagine. I hope I have everything I need, and not too much more. Get this—I fit every little thing in one backpack [thanks to one of my angels for the loan] and one tote. Two bags. Two small bags. LEGIT carry-on size bags. #Ridic.

4. I’m missing already. I miss my #VillaLife morning routine, my step-dog, Romes and my mountain of pillows. But, if you know me well, you know that I miss my people to the depths of my soul. I mean, I long for people that I love. I think it’s starting to hit me that I’m going to long for some people and comforts of normal life, but I imagine a Fijian drink, courtesy of my Kara [[cause home girl owes me a drink like nobody’s business]] might help. I’ll miss you. Yes, you. Please pick a place on the map and come visit.

5. I’m ready to write. It’s weird. I’m not that excited yet. I think I still have some departure-week-detox to do [[again, where Kara’s Fijian drink will likely come in handy]]. It still feels very surreal and not quite sure how or when it’ll hit me that it’s ok to be excited, but I am, weirdly, very much looking forward to writing. I have so many ideas and so many stories I want to reflect on during this growth and grace journey. Thank you for reading. It makes writing more fun.

Departure week is in the past and can’t even believe leg one is almost over. We’re descending past the clouds, falling from the cruising altitude and the hub-bub of Los Angeles is in sight. I guess that really only means one thing—next stop, Fiji.

#SoThisOneTime, for the first time.

January 28, 2015January 28, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 2 Comments

I know, I know…this blog has been a total downer so far. But that’s about to change. Cause yall.. I’ve done some pretty dang cool things in my 26/27 years…things that have taught me the sweet side of life’s bittersweet. So, since I can’t commit to a #ThrowbackThursday or a #FlashbackFriday [hello 18 million time zones / avoiding that type of unnecessary deadline-inspired pressure], I’m inventing my own series…#SoThisOneTime. No, No, NO do not say ‘at bandcamp.’ Band Camp would never have let me in. I do too many cartwheels to hold a flute for a sustained period of time.

I digress.

Here it is. My first of many, #SoThisOneTime posts.

So this one time, I spent my birthday [yes, I specifically recall that it was my 18^th] dancing in my chair at the Hard Rock Café in Sharm El Sheikh, with Egyptian waitors singing Happy Birthday to me and kissing my arms and hands. All in front of my family. I think it was probably my most stand-out birthday moment ever.

We’d spent the first half of our two-week-trip touring the Cairo Museum [in which our tour guide pointed out the world’s first invented condom among other ancient oddities] and riding camels across the desert with the oh-so-iconic Pyramids as our backdrop. We had a driver and translator and armed body guard with us at all times. To this day, I don’t know why we were considered VIP, but for whatever reason they felt the need to watch our six at all times. We saw decaying ox on the side of the road, kids drinking water that didn’t even seem suitable for a pet and perfume stores pungent enough to cover up the smell of those poor decaying ox. We saw all of the monumental tourist things you are supposed to see. We cruised down the Nile River and much to my horror, my family dressed up to match the evening belly dancer—it was a hot mess.

Then, we vacationed. Yes, this word-choice-transition from ‘trip’ to ‘vacation’ is very intentional. We drove across the desert for what felt like days. You know when you’re flying and you lose sense of movement and progress and situational awareness, cause all you can see are clouds? No environmental cues to suggest you’ve moved at all? This was like that. Just sand in all directions for as far as you could see. Though I assure you we felt the movement…turns out they don’t pave their deserts. Sand is bumpy. It was hot. It was not pleasant. What was even more unpleasant? When our free-for-all desert excursion came to a dead halt…we’re talking Beltway at 5pm on a Friday afternoon kind of halt. Turns out it was Egyptian rubbernecking as we crept past human bodies covered in blood-soaked white drapes. It felt like a movie. I don’t know how those people died, but I don’t think it was by choice. I’ve always hated rubbernecking.

Anyway, we made it to the Red Sea. And this is where I hold some of my fondest family memories. As you might imagine, we were pretty sick of each other by the time we did 3 years together in one tiny on–base house, spent eons of hours living in the Yukon back seat floating all around Europe, not to mention my raging ‘get me the eff out of this house and into a dorm room’ gem of an attitude.

All that aside, we snorkeled in water so crisp and blue that I’d suggest it tops the Great Barrier Reef [yup. I said it]. We parasailed for the aerial view and four-wheeled across the dessert just to have a cup of piping hot traditional Bedouin tea with a group of villagers. We climbed Moses Mountain in the middle of the night just so we could squeeze under some blankets to watch the sunrise over the land where The 10 commandments were delivered. We saw the Burning Bush. We stayed at a fancy hotel and even I, the horrible angry teenager, reveled in the towel animals and pretty flowers that adorned our beds every afternoon. We smoked Hookah along the boardwalk [and by ‘we,’ I mean everyone but me, cause I just was THAT much of a prude].

We did a lot in those two weeks. But I think the best thing we did was define the distinction between ‘trip’ and ‘vacation.’ Yeah I loved #ThatOneTime. We aced that trip / vaca hybrid. Lesson SO learned for this #GrowthNGrace journey.

‘Growth and Grace’ takes flight

January 15, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 13 Comments

I hope to use this place to document my ‘goods’ and reflect on my ‘painful’…not for any reason other than, I believe in the power of storytelling–that it might resonate, that it might encourage, that it might bring peace. So, while I know I’ll have plenty of ‘goods’ to look forward to and have a memory box FULL of ‘amazing’s’ [reminiscent blog posts on which to come]…for context’s sake, let me just admit a few of not-so-beautiful things…

If you read this or this, you might have picked up on the fact that I’ve done some hurting lately. This past year has challenged me like none before. Sure, I’m only 26 [or am I 27? For the life of me, I cannot remember….a ridiculously perfect demonstration of my chaos these days]. But I’d bet money that I’ve lived a lot more life than most 90-year-olds. In some very good ways, and in some very painful ways.

While I’m no stranger to tear-inspiring moments, I’ve cried a lot in 2014. I’ve had cancer and been cheated on and had my family broken and watched not one, but two parents fight cancer–all in the last 5 years, mind you. But nothing, not one of those life-altering experiences holds a flame to this past year. The sparkle that once dazzled my heart and ring finger all the same, was put to rest. Not in a mutual kind of way either…the way that feels so surreal and paralyzing that one whole calendar year later and I still think it must be a dream. A dream that I’d still like to wake up from…I just know I won’t.

So I’m forced to make new dreams, I guess.

Here’s where ‘growth and grace’ really takes flight–literally.

My new dream is to learn to be okay. To be alone and quiet and still and calm. To have nobody and nothing and realize I’m still somebody who has everything. To breathe. To rest. To cry. To give myself grace when I cry too long. But to grow with each inhale and steady my heart with each exhale. I want to do yoga with the sunrise and walk along the beach at sunset. I want to fuel my body with new and interesting foods and sip wine from grapes grown on foreign soil. I want to grow closer to God and feel him guide my movements. I want to smile and know that it’s radiating from the inside. I just want to heal.

My dream for this year, this new year, is very simple. I want to feel like me again.

So, I’m going on a trip. For 6 months or 9 months or somewhere in between.

No, I don’t have every bit of it planned…probably not even half of it. I’m not sure when I’ll run out of money or how long this will feel fun. I’m not sure where I’ll stay in Bali or how to read a menu in Vietnam. I don’t know how long I’ll stay in Italy or if Germany will still feel nostalgic. I don’t know how I’ll get from Norway to Spain. But I do know that I feel more at peace over this decision than I’ve felt in a whole year. Maybe a whole 26 years..[maybe a whole 27?]. I’m doing this.

The way I figure, I know how to do the things I know how to do. I know how to make friends and find good deals. I know to dream big, but keep my safety net. I know that I want to see the Christmas Markets in Austria, but if I need to come home early for some momma time, then that’s okay too.

For the other things, I suppose I’ll just figure it out. No hostel mishap or losing my camera or flight delays compare to the confusion I’ve already felt. That, I’m certain of. So in that way, I’m guaranteed to win–already guaranteed growth.

I’m going on a trip around the world, not to run away or ‘find myself.’ In fact, I very much know who I am. I’m going on a trip around the world to bring perspective to my pain and solitude for my questions. I don’t have all the answers. But by God’s grace, I hope I’ll have a few more when I come home.

And yes. I’m smiling right now just thinking about how long I’ll stay in Italy and how I’ll figure out how to read a menu in Vietnamese.

Here’s to small wins, big gains and huge travels.

Here’s to ‘growth and grace.’

#VillaLife

January 9, 2015January 9, 2015 ~ Growth N Grace ~ 9 Comments

As I sit on my couch with the fireplace roaring, blinds wide open, sipping my morning cup of coffee and looking out at a quiet morning fog roll across the gully, I cannot help but thank God for the millionth time for this place….this villa…this haven.

This has been home for 11 months. It impossibly seems like no time and forever.

We didn’t even want to move. We, being my sweet Kara and me [[‘my sweet Kara’ because any other description comes up short–not my roommate, not a best friend, not a sister, not a confidant or a crutch in life’s most weary moments–none of those terms do her justice….so for now she’ll just be ‘my Kara’]. We were happily settled in homes that we created with people we cared about. But that’s the funny thing about ‘settled’–sometimes I think God doesn’t want us to settle in the comfy places. So he pushed us out of the cozy and into the ‘oh.my.gosh.’

That my Kara and I had each other to lean on in this new ‘uncomfortable place’ was no accident. In fact, this is one of the greatest blessings I’ve yet to witness.

Enter, The Villa.

Stupidly overpriced, half the size of our previous homes, a crappy carpool and a half away from our city-offices, no yard for Romeo to run around in, [more to come on him]…This is The Villa.

But Villa Life? That’s a whole different story. Villa Life is nearly impossible to explain, for it’s actually a ‘feeling’ and not a ‘place.’ But here we go…to understand me, my Kara, and ‘growth and grace,’ you must first understand ‘Villa Life.’

This place is beautiful. It’s tiny and my beloved bedroom furniture doesn’t even fit in my own bedroom, but it.is.beautiful. The kitchen is a #cleaneats creator’s dream. The dark wood floors match our puppy’s brindle coat. Our furniture and decor blended beautifully to make it feel HGTV-ish. The floor-to-ceiling windows brings the outside in. Our grill and pallet furniture and herb garden make the front patio a Pinterest-inspired sanctuary. But the best part is the back deck. It’s about 10×15, with two simple lounge chairs and a fire pit. A small space, with a few key ingredients. Put simply, it makes Villa Life.

When my Kara and I are dancing around the kitchen prepping dinner, with red wine flowing and John Mayer crooning, with the french doors wide open and locals biking down the trail in our back yard, and the air smells like summer and your skin tingles from the sun beating down on our deck….that’s Villa Life.

When after dinner you sip on yet another glass of vino, lounging in those chairs [arguably the best investment of the year] and the Pacific Northwest sun starts to set on another summer night, and you drum up a baby fire in the fire pit [second best investment of the year] and swaddle up in comfy blankets with Chateau Ste Michelle’s nightly concert floating through the backyard….that’s Villa Life.

When you’d rather spend Memorial Day Weekend at home, than anywhere else. When you can hop the back fence and run for hours in either direction on the trail. When you can walk to more wineries than is even necessary. When you can watch bald eagles and hot air balloons from your deck. When your kitchen has a built in wine rack. When your friends, any random conglomeration of friends for that matter, can gather and play cards and laugh and make memories. When your favorite guitar player has weekly gigs in your back yard.

When home brings you back to earth, breathes life back into your soul and makes you feel just.plain.good….yeah…that’s #VillaLife.