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Finally Up North

 We finally officially moved to Wisconsin. But first there were goodbye parties with friends...

...saying goodbye to Chicago...

...and a successful driver's license test!

We loved our time in Lombard but after preparing to move for almost a year, we were ready to finally go! I think people were getting tired of seeing us around and I got tired of answering the question: "So, are you all packed up?" 

I'd love to say that I'm all settled in, but nothing is ever as simple as that. Of the first 18 days living in Wisconsin, I spent 10 of them in Lombard. I drove the camp van full of campers down from their week at camp, stayed the night with Sam at our house in Lombard, then drove a new batch of campers up the next day (5 hour drive). Then I spent more days back in Lombard working hard to get the house ready for renters. Three other guys are going to share the house with Sam this year while he works and goes to culinary school. It was exhausting, and when I was back in Lombard I would get sad and convince myself that I never actually moved and that I would be stuck painting the upstairs bedrooms forever. One can go a little crazy while staring at the same paint color all day!

When we bought our house on May 1st, it was snowing. The previous owner pointed at places in the snow and told me what plants might come up in those spots. Well, now the house is basically surrounded by a jungle. There are plants everywhere! I think the forest will overtake the house if we don't beat it back every year. That feels overwhelming, so instead of unpacking, I sit on the couch and stare out the window and think of all the work it's going to take to be a homesteader...just kidding, I'm not going to be a homesteader but that's kinda what it feels like! The other families are talking about storing up wood for the next two winters and I'm just trying to muster up the energy to pull a few weeds!

What a difference one month makes!

We've already had a few potential home invaders...a grouse (large bird) tried to fly through a window and broke the outer pane (and its neck) in the process. We also heard shuffling and squeaking amid the boxes that were piled in the basement and assumed there was a mouse. Nope, it was a bat. But it perished on its own and was actually quite fascinating to look at up close before I chucked it into the woods. 

Jeremy has decided he wants our house to look like a log cabin or hunting lodge...so instead of hanging up all my charmingly vintage and "global spice" inspired decorations, I am now driving around to thrift stores (each 30-60 minutes away) to try to find pine cone lamps and plaid throw pillows. Maybe a bear skin would be a nice touch. Just kidding but not really. I actually saw a lamp with a base that was a fisherman and then there were decorative fish hooks dangling on the outside of the lampshade. I almost bought it, but then I splurged on the $1 framed deer portrait instead. I hung it up above (what will eventually be) the fireplace to surprise Jeremy, and then he promptly sent me a picture of the exact same piece of art in the hallway outside his office. I guess it's a popular one up here.

The two biggest lifestyle changes for us so far are in the areas of transportation and meal prep. In terms of transportation, we bought a used ATV and I haven't even had a turn driving it myself yet. The kids (and Jeremy) cruise around camp and the neighborhood on it. By "neighborhood" I mean about 12 houses with forest in between. It is the preferred mode of transportation for all camp staff. I don't even think Evan remembers that he has a driver's license. 

For meals, we just walk/drive the ATV/Onewheel over to the dining hall to eat. It's a nice perk, especially during this time when I am so busy staring out the window unpacking. I don't have to plan, shop (30 minute drive each way), prep, or clean up. It's pretty nice, except for some of the times I walk up to the tables while clumsily balancing my food and I'm not sure where to sit because there are a lot of teenagers and college students and I feel like Forest Gump for a minute. But people are nice and make room for me, except for Annie who sometimes acts like she doesn't know me or sends me the eye daggers that say: Don't you dare act like you know me.

Despite the ups and downs of figuring out my new life here and realizing how far away most major shopping and services are, I'm enjoying the scenery and the sounds of nature all around me. And, I haven't been eaten by a badger or a bear yet, nor attacked by bird-sized mosquitoes, so I'd say I'm doing alright.

This is the exit from my driveway onto Sawyer Lake Rd. It is pitch black at night here and I have been known to sing loudly while walking back home...there are noises in the bushes and though I know it's probably chipmunks, still...

I really like my kid

 I sent this smart, creative, enthusiastic, thankful kid off to school today dressed as a greaser from The Outsiders. It is so much fun being able to talk about books I love with him, and to discuss themes and character development together. He makes really funny jokes and is a great helper around the house. He has friends that are his own and he can ride his bike to football practice and can do way more situps than me (I actually discovered that I can't do a single sit up.  Not even one. I can crunch like a boss but I would fail Illinois P.E.)

And, besides his growing independence, maturity, and responsibility, he still has a child-likeness and sweetness. Last week, I took the kids to a pumpkin patch with my sister's kids, and Sam pushed the stroller and played with them and seemed to find such joy in being their older cousin. 

"Sam, let's go do the corn maze!" "Aw, okay...but can I play here with Nathan some more, first?" Cue melting heart.

Eclipse 2017: Cloudy With a Chance of Burnt Eyeballs

Well, call me stubborn, but when the school district decided that the kids couldn't watch the eclipse at school, I got a little more into it than I might have otherwise.  In an effort to use up ingredients in my kitchen and not have to go to the grocery store, I accidentally made themed dinner the night before the eclipse:

"Look, planet pancakes and sun eggs!  And I didn't even plan it!" (ba dum crash)

 And then when my neighbor across the street asked if we could watch together and share our solar sunglasses (which we got from a teacher who had to cancel her eclipse-viewing plans), I got a little more into it and made little goody bags.

 We took the kids out of school at lunch time and came home for Sun Chips and crescent roll sandwiches.

We watched through cloudy skies and actually saw a lot more of the action than I had thought we would when I saw the weather forecast.  I wasn't sure what I thought about the eclipse glasses, but I was glad that we had them.

But we enjoyed our homemade cardboard box viewer just as much!  I was sad that the heavy cloud cover kept us from seeing the crescent-shaped sun shadows and reduced the effect of the growing darkness (since it was kind of gloomy to start with)...

 

...but we were amazed by the crickets starting to chirp and night birds starting to sing.  We even think the flowers closed a bit.

Here's the "Proof that I was there also" photo.  I really should not be allowed to take selfies, as I am so horrible at them.

 The cloud cover actually created the perfect filter for us to watch the eclipse with our naked eyes a lot throughout the day (don't tell the authorities that we did that).

Again, I possess a lot of skills but selfie-taking is not one of them.

 After the eclipse had mostly come and gone, my across the street neighbor came out and asked if they had missed it--she had fallen asleep with the baby and her sweet kids let her sleep instead of waking her up!  Thankfully, they were still able to catch the end of the eclipse with the official eclipse glasses and the unfortunate-looking cardboard box.

Even though we weren't in the path of totality, and the weather didn't cooperate, and our driveway party was pretty small, it still was full of wonder.  Nothing compares to hearing things like this:

I think teachers teach in order to hear moments like this.  It's too bad that perceived but manageable risk suppressed wonder and curiosity and memory-making.  Jeremy's words regarding the strange fear that seemed to develop overnight about this natural wonder hit the spot.

"A major part of education for children is learning about and experiencing the world that they live in. It is a world with dangers and wonders. Therefore, it is also a world that should be lived in with wisdom. A solar eclipse is an amazing and rare event. Certainly the temptation to look directly at the sun during an eclipse increases, but students could be instructed and trained about the temptation. They could be educated about how to behave during an eclipse. They could be extended appropriate measures of trust and oversight in order to be outside, under the heavens, during such an awe-inspiring event. Instead, they are being deprived of such a unique experience. They are also being deprived of an opportunity to gain wisdom about how to responsibly foster curiosity and learning during this event.

Regarding the specifics of being outside during a solar eclipse, there is more to experience than simply looking at the sun, something you rightly warn against. However, there is a lot going on outside during an eclipse, a lot of other places for children’s eyes to go. The lighting changes, the other side of the sky darkens, strange shadows and colors emerge, silhouettes of the eclipse can be seen. Yet, our children will be kept inside because of one small spot of danger (which is also the source of all the surrounding beauty). In my opinion, this manner of managing our students during the eclipse fosters fear instead of courage and superstition instead of wisdom."

But more importantly, the true awe and wonder of such a day like today are summed up much better in the Psalms:  "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork" and "Praise the Lord! Praise him, sun and moon, praise him all you shining stars!"

A Different Kind of Beach Day

A Snapshot

Jeremy said he likes my blog posts.  I've been trying to get up earlier to make better use of my mornings for the physical (running) and spiritual (reading the Bible, listening to sermons/podcasts, music) parts of my life.  I've been following the blog of a lady who challenged herself to blog every day (Preventing Grace --and the podcast by the same name is great, too).  I am giving up Facebook for Lent, a practice I have never really participated in, but feel as though could be humbling and point my thoughts more often to Jesus--the only source of true peace and joy for me in this broken and confused (and often wonderful) world.  So I am sitting down here to write, and hopefully more often.

A snapshot of life right now:  Evan is playing WiiU with a friend downstairs (in our half-basement that's not really a basement...still sad that I am living in the MidWest without an actual basement) after I laid down the law and told them they had to play Legos or something else "real" for the first hour and then they could do electronics for the last 45ish minutes.  And, for the record, they played Legos for 4 extra minutes without realizing their electronics restriction was over, so there.  His friend is sweet, and I love his family, so yay!  Evan has had a slower time really connecting here and finding friends that are easy to have over regularly.  So I am glad. He still does really odd things like starts reading a book or sitting in the bathroom for 20 minutes while his friends awkwardly wander around the house, so I really can't blame them for not coming over all the time.  We're working on it.  He still just really loves his best friend in CA and has a hard time opening his heart fully to the boys here.

Annie is off at a newer friend's house--they actually live pretty close but there is a busy street in-between so that limits their ability to go spontaneously to each other's houses.  This friend loves gymnastics as much as Annie and is really sweet.  Annie has met some great friends, and we have really enjoyed hosting her made-up "Fun Club" on Tuesday afternoons...she and the neighbor girl made flyers and invited some girls to come to a club and it has really taken off.  Those same girls ended up agreeing to put together a song for the school's Talent Show, which was on Friday night.  We did "The Hard Knock Life" from Annie, of course.  They were the cutest little orphans and I loved getting to know all the orphan moms (ironic, I know) in the process.  They got the Vice Principal to play Miss Hannigan and it was really cute.

Sam stayed after middle school to work on a weather station...er...something...electronic...with a computer?  I don't even know.  I ask about it and he talks about it, but all I hear is "blah blah blah." I really can't comprehend techie stuff.  Sam is not an athlete but is loving band, jazz band, and academic extra-curricular activities.  He is making this weather thing (called a Raspberry Pie) with some other great fun and creative friends he has and I love that he has connected so well.  He got to walk home with one friend afterwards and he will eat dinner there and then they will take the boys to Boy Scouts.  I never thought I would have a Boy Scout, but he got to spend last weekend exploring and camping in a cave, so that's awesome.  Just don't get me started on the popcorn he has to sell.

Jeremy is finishing up class and stuff and whatever it is he does at Wheaton College for the day.  He actually does a lot of reading and writing at home because his study carrel is quite small and shared with another student and home is much more comfortable.  He is currently redoing our terrible pink bathroom and it's been a fun project with rotted wood, mold, carpenter ants and a disasterous DIY epoxy sink nightmare, and tiling, which he has never done before.  All on a low budget.  He asks for a lot of back massages from the kids at the end of the day.  It's looking good.

I subbed today--doing reading with second language learners and then being a one-on-one aide for a boy with some health problems at my own kids' school.  I loved today.  Some days are a little trying (like 5th grade and 8th grade) but I am really enjoying being back in the classroom.  Then, in just a few minutes, we are off to dinner at a Phd family's house, and then on to a prayer time for Wheaton Phd women (spouses and students) at one of the professor's houses.  Tomorrow I will clean the house like a mad woman in order to get ready for the weekly Bible study we host here--during which I feed homemade dinner to half the singles from our church and some brave families as well.

So it's a good life.  And that's what it is.

Until next time!  Paka (bye in Russian, because today I got to work with a boy from Uzbekistan and I loved it)!

The Making of a Cubs Fan

Last week, I had the opportunity to be a spectator at one of the greatest moments in sports history. I wasn't at the stadium in Cleveland or on the street in Wrigleyville, and I wasn't even wearing any Cubs paraphernalia. I was just a Californian who happened to be living in Chicagoland during the momentous year of the curse-breaking, World-Series-winning 2016 Chicago Cubs. This is what it was like to watch the people around me watch this series...which won my heart for the Cubs, and for the community and city around me.

A year ago, I didn't know why there were basic white t-shirts bearing a large blue W on sale at every checkout line at the grocery store.  I thought maybe it stood for Wisconsin--maybe a university in Wisconsin--but I couldn't figure out why it was so important.  Upon exploring our area, I found a large restaurant near the mall called Harry Carays and wondered why a restaurant would be named after the form of suicide reserved for a samurai. At our first Bible study at our new church, a guy hypothesized that the essence of hopefulness is displayed most fully in a Cubs fan, and then mentioned something about a goat and a cat and a guy named Bartman.  A few months ago, we pet-sat some frogs named Rizzo and Bryant and I could not remember their names because they seemed so un-froglike.  Just a few weeks ago, one of my kids' teachers referenced the song that would be played if the Cubs won that night, and I wondered what could be so special about a song at a baseball staduim. I definitely didn't know the answer to the question: "Hey Chicago, whaddya say?" I've been a baseball fan before, but the Angels are a baby team compared to the Cubs. For my non-Chicago friends who might be as clueless as I was, here's the a little rundown of all the traditions I have become acquainted with this October.

The simple blue W on a white background stands for "The W" which is a flag that is hoisted up a mast-like pole at Wrigley field in the event of a Cubs win (no one talks about the "L" flag that can be flown on the opposite side of the mast...hmm, I wonder why).  People all around fly them in their yards and wear them as shirts and hold them up in the stadium.  It's called "flying the W."  It seemed sort of silly to me when I first learned of it, but watching that little flag raise over Wrigley field at the end of Game 5 of the World Series was pretty significant.  Of course, since its Cubs fans we're dealing with here, there are all kinds of beliefs and superstitions surrounding the proper flying of the W, but I will not claim to understand them or try to explain them.

The name Harry Caray is that of a famous long-time announcer at Wrigley field. He passed away in 1998, but his face and thick, black-rimmed glasses are iconic in this area. He sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the 7th inning stretch at home games. When Eddie Vedder sang during Game 5, he harmonized with the recorded version of Harry singing.

My friend Courtney (who I know from Flagstaff, but was coincidentally born in Lombard) told me the apples are because Harry Caray was quoted as saying "Sure as God made green apples...someday the Chicago Cubs are going to be in the World Series."

The Cubs have been plagued by a curse or other strange distractions throughout their long history.  You can look them up and already might have if you were remotely interested in the World Series.  I knew nothing of them...but now I understand their references and have even eaten at the Billy Goat Tavern downtown (business establishment owned by the man who was asked to leave Wrigley field during Game 4 of the 1945 World Series because he had brought a live goat into the stadium.  He then "cursed" the team and they began to play poorly and the rest is history.)

Rizzo and Bryant are now names and faces I recognize, along with many more.

For those who have never lived in Chicago, I wanted to give you a little glimpse into what this Cubs World Series experience has been like. Because my gracious, native-Chicagoan friends have let me into their world, I can say now that I am a fan--but compared to them, I am like in the crush stage...and if it is love, then they are in a life-long committed (and slightly abusive, I'd wager) relationship with this team that has traditionally broken their hearts every October.

Watching the roller coaster ride of the World Series impacted me in surprising ways.  It has been more about watching the people who are watching the Cubs than actually watching the Cubs (though they were pretty awesome and I see why my friend, Sherry, tells me she just wants to make a big pot of chili and take it to them in the dugout).  The unlikely victory of this team who are known as the Lovable Losers was about so much more than yearbook or movie predictions or a billy goat or, as the media would like us to think, stats and management.  The experience was so human--so much more about connections and community than breaking a curse.

It's hard to describe what Cubs fans are like (and many baseball fans are like this, to some degree)--but they are definitely superstitious.  Every Cubs fan thinks that where they are sitting or what they are doing directly affects the outcomes and momentum on the field.  My friend in Phoenix thought the Cubs started losing their lead in the 8th inning because she got up to get her daughter from youth group. They are almost in pain watching the games--that's why I called it a slightly abusive relationship.  When the score was tied up in the 8th inning, the fun party we were at came to an abrupt halt. Normally friendly and gracious people left without explanation, started cleaning furiously and moving furniture.  We realized the party was over and scurried out the door before anyone burst into tears.  In the car, I said to Jeremy, "But they haven't lost, they could even still win.  I don't know why everyone gave up." A friend later described the despair by saying, "You know how it felt in the 8th inning when they lost the big lead they had? That's how it has been our whole lives--that feeling...except they don't win. You come to expect it."

And that's just it.  These fans have been brought to the brink and then let down for generations.  They walk around in mourning, get distracted by the holidays, and then start to have a glimmer of hope as the next season starts in the spring.  That's why their unofficial slogan was Maybe Next Year.  There is nothing like the emotionality and endearing hopefulness of a Cubs fan. A tweet after the game ended said "Congratulations! Cubs win! Too bad all their fans died during the 8th inning."

But the sense of connection between all the fans and generations of fans that have been loyal to their Cubbies for the last century was what won my heart as I watched this series unfold. At game 5, the last game at Wrigley Field, as the stands erupted in singing "Go Cubs, Go!" after their exciting win that kept their World Series dreams alive, I was struck by a sign being held high by a middle-aged man that read "This is for Grandpa."

 After the game, fans began writing family members and friends' names on the bricks outside the stadium--people who had not lived to see this moment and who were being missed in this moment by the ones who had come. Tearful fans passed nubs of chalk to other waiting, emotionally overcome fans.

On social media and around my community, I saw young people who could have been out partying it up with their friends instead watching with their grandmas and grandpas, or weeping because someone wasn't here to enjoy the moment with them. Jeremy has laughed at me a few times this week as he's caught me listening to sports radio (which I would never normally do)...but it's because all the show hosts seem to want to do is have people call in and tell their Cubs stories. Like the 94-year-old woman whose brothers went to a Cubs game first thing after they returned from WWII. Or the many who listened to games on the radio with their grandparents. One friend (though I'm sure he's not the only one) comes from a family whose grandma was buried in her Cubs jersey. He drove all the way to Cleveland for Game 7 in a borrowed car and paid for what turned out to be a counterfeit ticket...and then miraculously was GIVEN a free ticket at the last moment from a man who said, "Baseball is the greatest game in the world. This is the World Series. You deserve to be in there. Go have fun." The sense of family connection held by the fans was on display and I can honestly say that there has been something so special about being able to watch these stories up close.

There have been W flags and Cubs gear left at gravesites in cemeteries.

From twitter: 94 year-old WWII vet and lifelong @Cubs fan. He gets to celebrate with tears of joy tonight #WorldSeries

 There was a man who drove all day from North Carolina to Indiana to listen to the game at his father's grave, who died in 1980, but they promised they would listen to the game together if the Cubs went all the way.

Our friend and neighbor who painted the Cubs logo on his and other's lawns and shot his civil war cannon off in jubilation at the Cubs victory (maybe it was just fireworks but it sure sounded like it) was proudest to have watched the game with his mom--his wife said mother and son had rarely missed watching a game together since he was a little boy.

(See the cannon off to the right?)

My friend Ellen's grandma, who turns 94 tomorrow.  She says she's been holding out for the Cubs to win the World Series.  Ellen rushed over there the day after the final game to bring her a Cubs cupcake and flowers and to talk to her about making a new goal...maybe a repeat win in 2017!

Because our Cubs-watching party ended so abruptly, we went home as a family and I put the kids to bed with the radio on to hear the rest of the game. The rain delay meant that they fell asleep before hearing the celebrations, but I guess we were forging our own family connectedness as Cubs fans because we experienced it intimately, as a family. Evan, who has had the hardest time accepting Chicago as his home (even though he is mostly happy in his day-to-day life), decided to root for the Indians because he couldn't root for the Cubbies; he had been harassed by some older boys a few months ago for wearing an Angels hat and I think he couldn't bear to join with Chicago fans for fear of losing his CA identity. Even though he's the baseball-lover of our family, he wasn't enjoying the experience as he could have. He was stubborn and alone as his school was decked out in Cubbies gear and his friends were talking about the games. The day of Game 7, my mom sent him an article about how Joe Madden (the Cubs manager) always carries an Angels hat with him--a keepsake of his dad's that is near to his heart, and a reminder of when he used to be an Angels coach. With just a few minutes until we were supposed to leave for our Game 7 party, he got a white shirt and made his own Cubs gear and cheered his heart out, sleeping in it that night and wearing it proudly to school the next day. I guess that's how Cubs fans are made...straight to the heart through personal connections, not statistics and probability.

Ultimately, though, my favorite part about watching the Cubs fans watch their Cubbies win has been the sense of human connectedness that's been on display. There's something unifying in a community when people are drawn together by a common love--signs up in windows, Go Cubs! being used as a salutation, conversations at school after each game, talking about common experiences. I love watching the videos of people celebrating--they are reaching out for any hand to high-five or squeeze, they are hugging complete strangers. They are running towards each other in the street. My kids are singing "Go Cubs Go" with total joy with their friends. On the night of the final victory, neighbors who often don't speak were coming out their front doors just to experience the moment with someone else. Even though the game ended more than days ago, the radio still has people calling in to just share their experiences of watching the games or going to the parade. The feeling is like after something tragic like 9-11 when people want to be together and talk about where they were when it happened and look at symbols from the event and live in the feelings together--only it's totally joyful and celebratory!

(this video is so good)



I'm a sucker for connections and I admit I have been sucked right into all of this. I drove to Wrigley field on a whim the day of Game 7, just to see it all with my own eyes. Sherry, my Cubs tour guide, shared her memories and emotions with me and we had so much fun watching Wrigleyville fill up with fans, even though the game was in Cleveland. The stadium itself projects a sense of connectedness--it's just situated right in an old neighborhood...no big parking lots and freeways and fences surrounding it...it's even called "The Friendly Confines."  Sherry and I bonded over cheese curds and stories of Cubs history and personal history and she welcomed me proudly into this world I really have no right to call my own, yet that she gave me a ticket with which to enter. We regretted that we forgot to go look at the bricks bearing loved ones' names on the sides of the stadium, but then she, in true Cubs superstitious form said, "No, it's probably better this way because I might have written one name and then forgotten to write another one and then been so regretful all day and it might have caused the Cubs to lose."

I got so swept up in the emotion and community-feeling of it all, I added something to our fire hydrant we painted because we were finishing it up the day after Game 7.

So, this is what it has been like for me, an outsider, to spectate the spectators and ultimately become a Cubs fan myself. I've enjoyed it so much and don't want it to end. I drove downtown with Evan and Annie yesterday afternoon to see the river dyed blue and the buildings lit up red and blue.  We even drove past the stadium with "Go Cubs Go" playing in the car. On a deeper level, this whole experience has been indicative of our human desire to see bad things end and victory won. To together be a part of something bigger than ourselves that erases the bad times and seems to transcend time. To behold the joy in each other's faces at the undoing of a curse. I can't help think about greater realities--the hope of Christ's return and the joy of sin's defeat and how we will look at each other in utter disbelief and relief.  This week, I saw strangers united, old men jumping up and down like young boys, something that seemed bad to us (a rain delay) but that turned to something good, me as an insider brought in at the last moment but able to experience all the celebration with everyone else, and the compelling joy of a multitude of people cheering for something beyond themselves that they are so thankful to have been a part of.  And this is only baseball.

Check out this article--so sweet! Grandma's and Grandpa's reactions to Cubs win

And of course, here's the Go Cubs Go song, if you haven't heard it by now;