The Hyphen House

We discovered that our resident mouse had eaten at least a dozen roach traps, scattering the contents underneath all our furniture. We were horrified to FINALLY find his entry point – having thought we’d sealed every possible opening. But no, he/she went up through the pier and beam foundation, and chewed a hole trough the floor and carpet large enough to enter and exit.

The upstairs neighbor’s window a/c unit leaked a giant brown spot onto our living room wall, ruining our curtain. Thankfully we moved the couch and painting out of the way in time.

And the mold/mildew/dust and probably some out of code chemicals finally caught up to poor Eric, who sneezed non-stop during the packing process.

But we’re still going to miss it, desperately.

Choosing the house we selected as our first was significant for us. It was full of character and problematic enough to offer surmountable challenges. It was in a pedestrian neighborhood full of life that encouraged us to ditch our cars and bike or walk as much as possible. And it was in the middle of an area experiencing quite the identity crisis, trying to preserve the old and welcome the new, all while investing in diversity.

So thanks, Hyphen House numero uno, you were good to us.

Today we said a reluctant goodbye to our church family. This community has been so important to us the last 9 months and has helped us grow and heal in ways we did not expect.

I could go on and on, but there are a a few things I want to share. When we finally decided to land at RUMC at the end of our church tour, it was in large part because it met some significant criteria. 1) Women were welcome as equal pastoral leaders; 2) The majority of the congregants were not white; 3) The style/theology/music/teaching were something we could both wholeheartedly agree on. This is by no means a perfect place, but it was perfect of us in this season.

When we first visited RUMC last summer, the pastor, a wonderful woman whose sermon made me cry, was preparing for a new position at a different church. I was really bummed b/c I really connected with her, but Rev. G., who took her place, has been amazing. One great thing about the Methodist church in general is that it's really hard for the church to become all about the senior pastor, b/c that position rotates. There is a lot of focus on lay involvement and leadership.

Anyway, Rev. G. has been a great example of humility, grace, and gifted speaking. My favorite sermon he gave recounted his childhood experience as the son of agricultural workers. He recalled attending church as a child where women were expected to stay in their "place." Even as a child, he could not understand why these church men, who received such racist treatment at their jobs, turned around to extend sexist treatment to the women in their community. He went on to highlight the reasons why women and men should serve and lead together, and how God has entrusted all with gifts.

What's perhaps most amazing to me is that this is really normal in our church. In other words, it's not weird for the associate minister and pastoral intern to both be women. It's not weird for women (myself included) to serve communion or read Scripture or speak. It's not weird for the ten or so members who have been there 40 years, both black and white, to be truly good friends. In fact, all this is easy. No one has to explain it. No one has to say, "let's be intentional about including everyone and making sure both women and men are leading." It just is. If you're there, you're a part. Everyone gets an equal seat at the table, because it's God's table.

The other major way God used RUMC has been to expose our prejudices. One pitfall of educated white folks is that we like to assume we've learned not to be racist on some level. Or we think, "I'm not prejudiced like that person, I'm way better than that." But if I'm being really candid, probably each Sunday served to show me some ridiculous prejudice I hold. Like I would be surprised to hear an African American woman had a certain job. As much as it pains me to admit it, it's the truth. I want to be as unassuming as RUMC is.

I felt like God met me there, like the Spirit was ministering to me on multiple levels all the time. I believe I heard God's voice in both words and action. As Eric said, this church gives us hope. Hope for our own spiritual lives, hope for unity among all Christians, and hope for the world.

This week has been quite poignant for me. My moving preparations are not the only thing going on in the world, it seems. Today was the anniversary of the death of a good friend from college and a best friend's mom. Sunday we hosted a party to celebrate a six month old miracle baby.

D was one of those people who lit up a room, made people feel really comfortable, and drove girls crazy. I had the good fortune of spending a lot of time with him. His death 5 years ago came as a great shock to everyone. His friend gave the eulogy and beautifully recounted the toast D gave at his wedding. D told the bride he was mad she took his friend, but there was no one else he'd rather lose him to. The eulogist said he was mad God took his friend, but there was no one else he'd rather lose him to. I'll always remember that.

J's death was only a year ago, and therefore a lot fresher. It was also a big shock, not that you can ever truly prepare for death. Her daughter and I have been close for a long time, and we've spent the last year trying to process that loss. It affects everything, really. Those deep questions about why her life ended and how we are to respond might nag me forever. I'm just looking for the beautiful things. To quote the eulogy at J's funeral: "She taught us to be lavish in our love and to create our own beauty. To tell people what they need to hear instead of what they want to hear. To trust God. To serve. To give. To empower others with whatever we have been given. To see the best in people. To see the world for the brilliant, vibrant, and radiant place that it is."

C was born a few days after Christmas with a hole in her heart. This month she was "supposed" to have surgery, but her heart is fine and she's growing and vibrant. On Sunday, Eric and I became her godparents, along with her four sisters. We underestimated how much that would mean, and have been very moved by the whole family's expressions. It means we care about these five little lives so much we would raise them if we need to, and we'll invest in their spiritual welfare now alongside their parents as they grow up.

So I think life, in all its forms, is a miracle. Some lives on earth end early and some lives extend when they aren't expected to. I don't know why. But God is the author of Life so I can't help but acknowledge its beauty.

I spent a large part of my childhood in a tiny town in Wyoming, three hours away from civilization. The nearest city was Salt Lake - where we drove to visit the doctor, to buy food, and to shop. I told you we lived in the middle of nowhere. OK, our town did have a doctor and a grocery store. But my eye doctor specialist, my sister's gluten free food, and the only malls worth going to were not anywhere close to us.

Because the only place to buy clothing in our town was the general store (which also sold saddles, kitchen stuff, fabric, and other sundries - I know it sounds fake but it's true), we traveled to the mecca that is SLC to purchase our wardrobes. We made a weekend of it a few times a year.

On one particular trip my dad wasn't with us for some reason, which left us girls loose to shop til we dropped. You may think you can shop til you drop, but my Mom is a force to be reckoned with. Anyway, we always picked a hotel with a microwave so we could have popcorn, and M&Ms were a staple road trip snack. One morning we overslept and missed the continental breakfast. Rather than spend money on the most important meal of the day, we ate popcorn and "M's" for our morning meal, still wearing our pajamas and lounging in bed. To this day, it's one of my favorite childhood memories.

Last week I had the good fortune of taking a mother-daughter trip with my mom and sister. We stayed in a bed and breakfast, bummed around, and, of course, shopped. We literally closed down the outlet mall. In your mind, 2:00 pm might not be a "late" start when the stores close at  9:00, but we used every minute of those 7 hours. Seriously, if you need a bargain, my mom will find it.

It would of course be trite to say that things are different between daughters and mothers when the daughters grow up. We're both married now, have finished school, have careers and lives. Those few days together reminded me how much I loved my childhood and how grateful I am to keep the connection I have with my mom and sister now, even though I've changed so much and our lives are busy.

My favorite part of the trip was piling into bed, watching a movie in our pajamas, and eating popcorn and M&Ms.

Moving to England is a big deal.

I say that like it should be obvious, but actually to us it's not. We started the process of moving to Europe last summer when we visited, and spent the following year looking for jobs, etc. So we've been used to the idea for some time now.

Last night we told the woman who teaches our pilates class about our upcoming plans and she freaked out, along with everyone in the room. Like, it was the most amazing thing she'd ever heard. Even at the dentist today they couldn't understand how I was holding it together.

The truth is I'm not holding it together all that well.

Our friends who teach at the school we'll be working at said they had flashbacks to the summer before they left, with all the preparations and visits and goodbyes. They said they didn't envy us right now.

It's not the massive to do list - although that keeps me distracted from other overwhelming emotions. It's the emotional process of leaving, and trying to leave well.

I adore our first house together (even though the current leak in the living room and mouse in the kitchen are making it easier for me to go) and get sad when I think of leaving it. It represents so much. The kind of home we created together, with lots of people in and out, our decorating styles combining, and sense of nostalgia growing for each item, all the work we put into it.

And I can't help but feeling like I'm disappointing someone all the time. It's impossible to schedule enough time with everyone, and to prioritize. Also, I get that folks are going to miss us, but it's easy to feel like I'm doing my friends and family a major disservice by moving to another country. No one has come out and said that, of course. But I think about all I'm going to miss and I feel somewhat ashamed for following this dream. Crazy, right?

I guess it's better not to pretend it's no big deal, but also unwise to let it be everything. I've always been a big picture kind of girl, so I need to get back to thinking that way about our transatlantic relocation.

"I can't tell him that or he'll think I'm this."

"I can't just say that to her, she'll take it the wrong way."

These are oft-used lines in TV shows and movies that really bug me. I get so frustrated that an entire 30 minute sitcom can be filled with people talking to everyone except the person they need to talk to. Portrayals of married couples are the worst. I guess I've been watching too much hulu.com, b/c this has been on my mind lately.

It took us probably 8 months into our dating relationship before we were completely comfortable telling each other everything. I've mentioned before how we try to talk through every issue, large and small. But it took us a while to get into that rhythm. Once we had painful conflict that stemmed from withholding information and feelings, to the point we almost ended our relationship. From then on we got a lot better at sharing everything.

I tell Eric the most banal details of my day, and he recounts the smallest anecdotes of his routine. That leads to talking about people and life and ideals and deep things that don't seem connected to any of it. I share what I'm frustrated about, what I'm afraid of, what I don't understand about him or our marriage. He asks questions and asks for assurance and indicates disappointment. Often, whatever it is that feels so big in my head feels a lot smaller when I talk to him about it.

It's a tricky balance. I want to own my feelings, which sometimes means I have to process them internally first, and that can be frustrating for my partner. Sometimes I just want to be quiet. We're still developing a way to effectively non-verbally communicate: "I love you but I need to be silent and figure this out. It's not about you. And if it is I still love you." A wink doesn't quite do the trick. And then there's pushing through the selfish temptation to assume I get to keep things to myself and not let him in.

What frees us to share everything, I guess, is a basis of trust and unconditional love. Even the times we can't stand how the other isn't meeting our expectations or we grapple with what it means to really be one, we know our love is bigger than it. That's why we can dig through it. Even when doubt the other's trustworthiness (or our own), we cling to the foundation of trust.

So a Friends episode might be 5 minutes long if Monica and Chandler went straight to each other and actually communicated their issues and feelings, but boy would their marriage be more healthy!

Last Saturday I awoke in the middle of the night after a dream that I forgot something really important for England... like a visa application or something. So on the way to the lake to meet Eric's family Sunday we made a list of stuff we need to accomplish this month. It covers 2.5 pages of a legal pad, and we add to it frequently.

Here's a sample of what we've done this week:

*Got biometric scan for E
*Fed-ex overnighted visa paperwork
*Purged all our clothes
*Donated clothes
*Purged books
*Sold books ($57 at Half Priced Books!)
*Got neighborhood permission for a yard sale
*Bought plane tickets for our summer vacation (which took FOREVER but hours of internet searching shaved hundreds of dollars off the price)
*Contacted multiple people at our new school for lots of different reasons

We've also done lots of fun things, too, as we are attempting to visit the few places left on our "Houston list" and spend lots of time with friends and family. For a good dose of irony, my sister (whom I've lived apart from for about 4 years) moved ten minutes away from me. I'm trying to see her as much as possible. I've gotten my first twinges of "wow, I'm not going to live here much longer" and "I'm really going to miss my family" this week. It's a cross between a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach.

My response to all this is a lot of deep breaths.