Anniversaries

 I tend to notice dates.

Significant dates.

Like anniversaries... of good things or not so good.

It was on this date in 2014 that we let go of something dear.

A cherished place 

Our Christmas tree farm

Our homestead

Our dream house we had built as newlyweds....

...

But now

For the last few weeks

I’ve been noticing something

Some good feelings

That I am starting to feel settled

Feeling at home in the new place

I seem to be feeling inordinately excited about the approaching holidays - and specifically about hosting our family celebrations once again.

This is the first time we’ve had a dining room in a really long time… since we moved out of the big house.  And to again have a fireplace where we can hang the stockings.

Plans are being made.

The menu is coming together.

The turkey has been chosen and is thawing in the fridge. 

Potatoes are being dug from the kids’ garden.  How cool is THAT?!?

...

Somewhere in the midst of the preparations and the good feelings I realized that this was the date of the that closing. That letting go… when we sold the Christmas tree farm.

Back in those days our girls would tell us things that really helped our perspective.

Things like the fact that we could take the good parts with us.

The spirit of the place.

That we could plant life in new places.

We knew they were right.

And now we get to enjoy yet another step of that wonder.

Another phase.

I also find myself remembering last year - the 10th anniversary of that letting go - when we were wishing, wishing… that we could be in our new home for the holidays… waiting for the final approval...  

But that didn’t happen.  

Well, EXCEPT for that one family dinner - and yes, it was take-out because of no working kitchen.

...

But now we are here and feeling at home.

We did it.

Sure enough, we brought "it" with us... that spirit of home.

We’ve planted life - which is already bearing fruit. 

A sense of community, connection, peace, welcome.

…

RIVENDELL

“That house was a perfect house,

whether you like food or sleep or storytelling or singing,

or just sitting and thinking,

or a pleasant mixture of them all.

Merely to be there was a cure

for weariness, fear and sadness.”

- J.R.R. Tolkien

…

On this date

April 11, 2012

Sad moment on my way to bed:   After watching a movie, I brought my snack dishes to the kitchen as I’ve done a thousand times. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach at the thought of leaving this place, my home of 40 years. It’s like a death or like a terminal disease - so hard.

New beginnings require endings of the old. I often focus on the excitement of the new, but I also choose to embrace the sadness of leaving the old behind.

I know that I have to leave one place to get to another, but the leaving is fraught with all kinds of obstacles: uncertainty, fears, sadness & grieving.

...

April 11, 2017

Moving to yet another new place and leaving yet another familiar place - albeit with very little sadness in this leaving. On this date in 2017, I was feeling just okay with that front room... until we moved my rocking chairs in.  Then the place started to feel like home.  

The lovely Boston rocker was a wedding gift from my man.  The big old squeaky one was the one my mom rocked me in when I was a babe - and then my little ones.  More recently my first-born rocked her little one in it.  I'm so glad those chairs survived the downsizing.

By the way, Bob did eventually tackle that front room and turned it into something amazing. 

April 11, 2025

Once again on this date, the cherished rocking chairs have yet another new home - in the historical house that Bob rescued after it had been abandoned for many years.

When I remember that momentary gut-punch on this date in 2012 I'm so glad that we were able to move past it... To say good-bye to that beloved spot and head out to new beginnings... More than we ever could have imagined. 

Living in a campground

I like living in a campground. At least sometimes I do. I like how the place fills up with families on the weekends. It's fun to notice the variety of camping rigs and equipment, to observe the newcomers unloading bikes and rubbers rafts, expanding their sliders and rolling out their awnings - and maybe even pitching their tents. Before long there are sounds of happiness and the smell of campfires.

I also like the Monday mornings and Tuesday mornings when it is relatively quiet and peaceful again with mostly just the regulars around. The seasonal people - some of whom leave for work between 6 and 8 a.m. and many who are retirees. People that we have begun to know a little bit. Several work in construction and several at the Michigan Renaissance Festival a few miles away which just opened for the season. One neighbor walks across the highway to her job at the animal hospital behind Frosty Boy and McDonald's.

There might be a few "campers" still scattered on sites here and there - maybe because it is vacation week for them - or maybe they live close enough that either mom or dad can commute to work from here.

On the mid-week mornings I don't meet many people while walking around the lake and I don't have much concern about being overtaken by golf carts. The pontoon raft is usually empty and silent and still on Tuesdays. The rentable log cabins may or may not be occupied during the week.

...

There is a bi-weekly rhythm around here. The atmosphere changes. When the rigs start pulling in on Thursday evenings it begins to feel like the weekend.  And when people start hitching up and packing up and pulling out on Sunday morning and throughout the day, it's as if normalcy returns - but with a twinge of sadness. I always feel a teeny bit sorry for those who have to leave so soon. To go back home and back to work and the real world. The week-end must have seemed so short. Once again I'm glad that we live in a campground - and we don't have to pack up and go anywhere. Because we are already home.

 

Not having a real home: pros and cons

There's a big event this weekend.
Used to be that we would have been able to offer lodging to a whole gang of people in our big house. I'm talking dozens of people. Yep, we used to pack them in.

But we can't do that now because we don't have a place. Understandably there is a certain sadness about not being to host all the gang.

On the other hand...

 A friend commented this morning that it is "hard to be away from your home so long." My heart heard that short statement as a confirmation of how right it is for us to not have a home at the moment. It made me so happy that we don't have that dilemma. We can be free to travel without having to be away from our home.

Love that!

In fact, that has been one of our "reasons" for not having a permanent home for awhile. Simply because we know that if we had a home we wouldn't want to be away from it very much.

Move forward

You can't move forward

and stay in the past at the same time.

It just doesn't work that way.

There are some things you can take with you

 

and there are some things

you have to leave behind

 

because

 

there just isn't room for them

where you are going.

It's time to move on

 

and into the next place.

 

 

It's all good.

Be free.

 

　

- Toni Imsen

What if...?

I've shaken my head and marveled about how in the world we got here. I've marveled about the fact that sometimes blessings just come our way. That good things happen to us for which we can take no credit. I don't know how that works, but I am grateful. At the same time I realize that the things that happen to us do not always feel like good things - which can be a topic for another time.

But yes, there is another side to the story of how we got from there to here. It is all about choices. There are certainly times when we can alter our circumstances by the choices we make and the changes we implement.

Choices matter. Choices make a difference. Choices are powerful.

'Tis a topic well explored by authors and bloggers as well as preachers and teachers.

Make good choices. Make wise choices.

Break bad habits; build good ones.

I am a creature of habit. My natural tendency is to get stuck in a familiar groove and not be able to see any other options. I can be needlessly blocked by obstacles.

We are not wealthy. We don't have a huge retirement fund. We don't have financial resources piled up and available to us. How could we afford to follow our dreams? To do whatever it is that retired people do? How could we afford to travel to warmer climates? How can we travel at all?

It was easy to assume that we were stuck. That we'd never be able to do those things because we just couldn't afford it. But somewhere along the line we were challenged to get creative. To brainstorm ways that we might be able to actually do some of the things that seemed unattainable. To recognize the assets that we did have and to imagine how we could utilize them.

I remember the day we were talking with friends about one of our seemingly unattainable dreams. I made a simple statement about not being able to afford it. One friend replied, "Unless you sell this place" - meaning our house, our farm, our home. Which was unthinkable to me at the moment.

So that was that. Selling our place was not an option so we tucked that dream aside in the impossible category and settled back into the familiar. The thought of selling popped up again a time or two but was never really considered.

Until one night... Years later. One of us dared to utter the thought, "maybe we should sell this place" - and the other one dared to agree. Maybe we should. Maybe we could. Maybe we would then be able to afford a fifth-wheel camper and to travel.... Maybe. Or maybe we could go overseas again. Or maybe... Maybe we could consider things we had never imagined.

The unthinkable had become thinkable. Could the impossible become possible? Who knew? But simply choosing to talk about it changed the game for us that night. Now we could begin to think creatively. Why? Because that obstacle might not have to continue being an obstacle.

The wise among us know that we can't have it all, but that late night discussion helped us begin to realize that we could maybe trade one thing for another.

...

Was it really possible? Who knew? But something had changed. Something had been awakened. Something had moved from the realm of impossibility to at least maybe.

And so discussion could begin. Did we really want to do this? Did we even want to think about it? What would it mean? How could it work? Was it even possible? We had no idea. All we could do was to decide whether to take the next step in even discussing the idea.

And so it began. One tiny step at a time. Unlocking that door had been a huge step. Deciding to step through it was another.

...

Why had it been previously impossible to consider? I guess because we were comfortable. We were living the American dream. Well, part of it anyway. We had a wonderful house on a lovely piece of land. We had built it and we loved it. It provided safety and security. It was home - the only home our kids had ever known. I never would have imagined that we would ever give it up so I never considered it as an option.

But once we dared to talk about it, then I guess we began to imagine what it would be like - with all its pros and cons. It did NOT happen overnight. It did not happen in a week or a month and it did not happen quickly, but it did begin to happen. We began the process of letting go - first by deciding to let go. Only then could we begin to see the possibilities.

...

That was only the beginning.

The process would be monumental.

But we began.

We began to talk and dream and strategize.

We began to downsize.

We began to make tough choices.

We had no clue about how long it would take or even if we were up to the task, but we began.

We are not experts. We are not financial wizards, neither are we downsizing gurus. We didn't know what we were doing. We didn't know what steps to take. But we began.

We just tried to figure out the next step and work on that. And then another.

We began.

     Continue with the next post...

            ... or see the entire series here.

Goodbye and hello

Once upon a time, when I was settled down in my comfortable life and couldn't imagine ever leaving, I remember feeling sorry for friends who moved away. I couldn't understand why they would choose to pull up roots or how they could be okay with it. Somehow it seemed to me that leaving would be more painful than good.

Today we are the ones who have pulled up roots and are heading out. Some of our friends look at us and just sort of shake their heads. I can imagine some of the things they might be thinking... and some of them actually tell us. There seems to be a bit of astonishment at least and probably wonder - wondering how or why we would do such a thing. Most often there is an acknowledgment that it must be really hard. And yes, there are hard parts to it. The good-byes and the letting go, but there is also excitement. Things we look forward to. Things we choose to be our new life.

Hubby says it well: You say good-bye and I say hello.

Time to leave; I wonder what I'm forgetting

Today is the day we pull out from Denali. Unbelievable. These five weeks have flown by so fast.

I wonder...

I wonder what else I need to do this morning.

I wonder if I can really be ready by 10 a.m. so that I can have time to hang out at the Black Bear before we have to pull out.

I wonder if I am remembering everything we need to stow away before hitching up.

I wonder what I'm forgetting to do here in the canyon.

I wonder how many tears I will shed today.

I wonder how many days it will take us to get to the Alaska Highway by going the south route and how many days to drive the length of the Alcan this time.

I wonder if I have enough Xanax for the mountain roads.

I wonder if we'll be able to get internet in tonight's camping spot. I wonder how long it will be before we can get internet along the highway.

I wonder when we will be able to wear short sleeves for most of the day.

I wonder when we will pull away from all the rain.

I wonder when I will be able to pack away my winter coat.

I wonder if we'll ever come back to Alaska. If so, I wonder where we would stay.

I wonder how many years the kids will keep working here.

I wonder if I will keep in touch with any of the people I have met here.

Of all the cool stories I've heard and want to write about, I wonder how many I will actually get written and posted. I know my pattern of good intentions and eventual lack of follow-through.

...

Yep, I wonder about lots of things this morning. This kind of wondering is pretty typical for me on a travel day - particularly the first day of travel after being camped for a few weeks. I guess that's the way I process my pre-travel anxiety.

Thankful Thursday: on loneliness

Adventures can be lonely. Epic journeys come at the price of painful goodbyes and a great sense of distance.

In an unfamiliar little town where you know nobody and barely recognize the language, loneliness seems to lurk in the shadows.

On the Oklahoma prairie, loneliness no longer lurks nor hides, but steps boldly onto center stage assuming a more visible and more audible role in the desolate howling of the wind as it swirls little dust clouds into your eyes.

Connection is vital.

For me to feel connected, while on this journey as well as in daily life, the internet is an invaluable tool. I do love the internet. I am so very grateful to have been born in such a time that at least some of my years could include the connectivity of the world wide web.

Partnership is also vital.

This would not be fun as a solo journey, but because I have a partner, there is shared adventure. We can celebrate together, but we can also lift the other's spirits. Our unique individual attributes complement those of the other to make us stronger together.

So on this potentially lonely Thursday out on a desolate prairie, I am thankful for internet access at least now and then and extremely thankful for my amazing partner - on every mile of the journey.

Life on the road: the eve of departure

Date: 12-29-13, the night before we leave, 8:40 p.m.

Location: Our cozy little cabin - for the last time for awhile, maybe ever

Outside: Turning really cold again after two days of thawing. Too bad we didn't get out of here today while it was a tad warmer.

Miles traveled: Just a few errands around home

Walked: Nope, except back and forth to the sheds and the camper. Very slippery underfoot.

Hubby is: Working on a blog post.

Recent happenings: Moving into the RV: packing the rest of our stuff away into storage; showing the property four times in the last couple weeks; a trip to E.R. last night for cardiac testing, slept in the rig last night - just to make sure everything is ready.

Unexpected: Walked into my mom's place to find a pan she is giving to me; realized it may be my last time to ever be in there. Weird feeling.

Noticed: That I don't feel the need to cling to any of the things there.

Made me smile: Smartfood white cheddar popcorn. My new favorite brand.

Blessings: What an awesome opportunity to start out on this big adventure. Feeling grateful.

Reading: Skimming just a little of several books to decide for sure which ones to take along.

Considering: I may still try to convince myself to leave some things behind that I already had packed.

Working on: A few empty bins sit ready to store the last minute stuff

Accomplishments: We got almost everything loaded and/or packed away today.

Lessons: I still have lots to learn - about myself, about life, about time pressure and physiology and stress, and about lots of things.

Agenda: Get to bed at a decent hour; sleep really well in that huge bed one last time; get up early and energized; finish up the last bit of leftovers for breakfast; pack up the last-minute stuff; hitch up the rig and hit the road.

Looking forward to: Being done with the decision-making and the packing and loading; getting away from the freezing temps; having more time to write and enjoying a modern kitchen again.

Next stop:  Waterford, MI to celebrate little Lina's third birthday with hugs and kisses.

Moving forward

You can't move forward

and stay in the past at the same time.

It just doesn't work that way.

There are some things you can take with you

and there are some things

you have to leave behind

because there just isn't room for them

where you are going.

It's time to move on and into the next place.

It's all good.

Be free.

 

- Toni Imsen

Better together

Another Five-Minute Friday The rules are no editing, no over-thinking, no back tracking. Just writing. Today's word is together... Go.... Better together It’s hard to leave. This has been home for a long time. I thought I’d live here the rest of my life. But we’ve been set free to explore other places. Why would we want to go? Why not stay forever? Stay where it’s familiar & comfortable? Of course, we realize that we can’t stay forever. Some day we’ll have to leave – when we no longer have the health to stay. Or perhaps one of us will be gone & the other wouldn’t want to stay alone – or to leave alone. How much better to leave together when we can! When we have the desire to journey & explore. When we still have the energy to make it happen without being a burden to others. Yes, we’ll have to leave some day. Why not do it now – while we can leave together? While the leaving can be fun & joyful... It’s better together.

the jungle feast

Brilliant lush green – deep, dark green and yet somehow bright green – contrasts with the deliciously wet black tree trunks. Yes, those are the colors of this jungle after a soaking rain. Yes, the leaves are opening enough to make it look like a jungle today. What a feast for my eyes! This is one of my very favorite times of the year (at least in my top four!) to be in this glorious part of creation. It wouldn’t be hard to feel badly about leaving it all; nope, it wouldn’t be hard at all. On the other hand, I can choose to enjoy every bit of beauty, to breathe it in, to drink it in, to celebrate the fact that it has been my privilege to enjoy it for 39 springtimes, and to enjoy it even one more time. Why would I want to let anything spoil that celebration? It is with a hard lump in my throat that I think of the hard parts of leaving even whilst looking forward with grand anticipation to the journey ahead. It's a jungle out there and I can't wait to explore it.