Won't You Be My Neighbor?

This last weekend, I finally got around to doing something I've wanted to do for the past several weeks:  make cookies for my new neighbors.  Ever since closing on our new house just over a month ago, we've been fiddling and dilly-dallying about our home like little squirrels preparing for winter.  Fix this, repair that, paint here, unpack there, and so forth.   I'm sure our neighbors have been wide-eyed at their windows a bit, wondering just who we are and what we're up to.

I'm not used to neighborhoods.  I grew up on a farm in the middle of Kansas, where our closest "neighbor" was a couple miles away and I only saw them if they needed to borrow a tractor or let us into their cellar for a tornado (no, I'm not kidding).  Needless to say, I didn't grow up with that "Wonder Years" experience of riding bikes until the street lights came on or strolling down sidewalks on my way home from school.  

Since then, I've either lived in dorms or apartments, and while we've experienced community throughout the years, this is our first true neighborhood that we can call our own.  Yay for neighbors!

I wasn't exactly sure how to get to know my neighbors.  I've officially met a few of them as we got our mail at the same time or arrived in our drive ways coming and going.  But, there were still many houses on our block that I had yet to see whom lived inside.  I wanted them to know that the new residents of this little house were happy and loud, and obliged to offer an extra egg or cup of sugar should the need arise.

So, we made cookies!  I figured, at worst, I'd rather be known as "that lady with the loud kids who once brought us cookies" than anything else they could come up with from witnessing me from afar.  What could we lose?  It might be awkward and uncomfortable, but at least they would know we tried to make an effort and introduce ourselves.

Most people weren't home.  We walked around on a beautiful Saturday, knocking, and eventually leaving a ziploc'd plate of cookies tagged with our "Happy to be in the neighborhood" slogan written on top.  We did meet a few new people, who informed us of their joy of living in the neighborhood.  We were also thrilled to find out that a total of three police officers live within a block of our house, which made us feel all the more safe living in our cozy nook.

And, then, we walked up to our elderly neighbors with whom we very nearly share a yard.  While our yard is fully fenced, on one side of it it slopes up to another yard which we both have clear views of from our homes.  I had met the wife who lived their, and she was quite happy to meet us and our little girls, glad to see someone using the yard with such jubilant delight.

There were a few people standing outside the home as we approached with our cookie-giving entourage, and we noticed an unusual amount of cars in the driveway.  My first thought was, "Oh, how nice to have people over on such a lovely day!  I hope they like the cookies!" which quickly turned to sadness as I got closer.  The elderly husband had passed away that same morning, just hours before.  

We politely handed over our feeble plate of cookies and sent our prayers and sympathies to the family as we left.  My goodness, it was such a shock, we were so very sorry for disturbing the moment.  Nevertheless, I was grateful to know of the news and glad we could offer our condolences. 

You just never know who you will touch, what timing might be set up before you, or exactly why you might be prompted to take action.  I had meant to deliver those cookies weeks before, but if I had, maybe I would have never known about our neighbor mourning.  And, what if I never bothered to introduce our family at all?  Who knows how those little cookies might be used...but, at least that morning they made a difference to one family, no matter how little a piece of distraction or joy it may have brought.

Later that day, while I was out running errands, the sweet neighbor lady came out to the yard and spoke with Josh, thanking us for the neighborly token.  I sure hope this is only the beginning of how we integrate ourselves into this little neighborhood.  It might be a long time before we get to know everyone, but it only took a morning for us to let everyone know a little bit about us.  

Sure, years ago it used to be common for neighborhoods to be the one to bring cookies to the "new kids on the block", but we just don't live in that era anymore.  I'm thrilled to flip the tables and take the opportunity to reach out and see what happens.  Yep, it was awkward.  Yep, it took time and energy.  But, I'm thankful God prompted my heart to take that step outside my comfort zone and privileged to have witnessed the difference it made already.

It was a good reminder to me that sometimes you don't need to wait for an invitation...you just need to step out. The truth is, you just never know who might need a cookie. 

Dèjà Vu

The packing has begun!  How is it possible that I am sitting among boxes and bubble wrap again!?  It was only 8 months ago that we reduced our household to a 16 foot moving truck and traversed 2,000 miles to start a new life in a new location...and now, we're packing again!

I'll admit, there are about a zillion ways in which this move is easier.  For starters, we're only moving about 2 miles away instead of 2,000.  And most of all, we're not bidding a tearful good-bye to an entire lifestyle and community of people and places we hold dearly in our hearts.  I'm soooo glad I (please, Lord) never have to do that again.

But, as we settled in to our little abode, we've managed to accumulate plenty of stuff that now has to be sorted, piled, boxed, and moved.  The process of carrying our life two miles down the road is more annoyance than anything else.  Lucky for me, as a mother of two little ones, I've been mastering the art of inconvenience for a while now.

After weeks of explaining that "packing up and moving" did not equal "saying goodbye to the life you know" to my daughters, we're finally on an upswing of understanding what this stressful time is all about.  This is all a MAJOR UPGRADE for us, and one that kind of blindsided us suddenly with an avalanche of blessing.  While we're not gaining much square footage, we're adding a big yard (fenced!) to our lives, as well as an additional room that will promptly be turned into go-yell-and-scream-in-there-and-play-until-you-drop-toyland space.  Yes, I can't wait until my girls get their little play room (which means that yes, they will still be sharing a bedroom.)

All this to say, our lives have been turned a little upside down for the time being, but in a wonderful way.  The chaos reminds us that not only do we not know what the future holds, but we don't know what blessings are around the bend either.  God is always working behind the scenes for our good and His glory, and I don't want this crazy time to distract me from the fact that this is a ridiculous GIFT that I can't wait to use however God allows.

I'm praying for God to really show us how this home and space can be used to benefit others, how we can appropriately and cheerfully get to know our neighbors, and for God to reveal how this whole shebang fits into His plan for our life as a family.  Buying a house was surprisingly one of the least stressful events of my life, and I never thought something so major could go so smoothly.  Clearly, God has plans for this move that are bigger than anything a Medium Uhaul Box could ever contain.

I'm placing our belongings into boxes, taping them up, awaiting the move this weekend that will forever shape the course our family takes.  But, as I sift through our stuff, I want to remain focused on the unseen, and I pray that this process helps mold me into the homeowner that represents more than someone who just pays a mortgage each month.  I don't know what all is in store for us in our new little neighborhood two miles down the road...but, one thing is for certain.  It's not the distance travelled that changes your life, it's the willingness to be moved that makes the difference.

Move me, Lord.

...Six Months Later

We have officially lived in Nashville for half a year!  Can you believe it?

Only six months ago we drove our entourage into this new city and called it our own.  We traveled over 2,000 miles with two toddlers and all our belongings and no job and staked claim on a new life that we fully entrusted to God.  We were full of more questions than answers, with weary hearts that grieved the loss of our friends and family in California, and excited souls ready to embrace a new chapter ahead.

Having moved across the country four times now, I thought I knew what to expect.  I tell myself that it takes time to make friends, to get to know my way around, to be patient with finding a church to call home, to not hold my breath when it comes to waiting until it feels like home home and not just some place I now have to ship all my Amazon packages to.  I've always told people that I feel like it takes a good two years before a new place feels familiar or comfortable.

But, I have to tell you, this has been the easiest move of my life.  Nashville is home.

Six months is a blink to be able to say something like that.  It feels like when I was dating my husband and falling head over heels before I could look him in the eye without giggling or wanting to burst into song.  It may have been too soon to say "I love you"...or get engaged...or get married...but, when it's right it's right.  And my move to Nashville feels like a nice old sneaker that's come back into style.  It feels right, looks great, and just fits.  Ahh.

The Pardys are loving Nashville.

Don't get me wrong.  I miss California desperately.  I miss my friends the most, of course, and there are times I weep just by texting them or seeing a Facebook update from someone.  [I'm tearing up now just thinking about it!]  In a perfect world, all my favorite people would be in ONE place, or we would own private jets, or we could all teleport!  In my ideal universe, the ocean would be 15 minutes away, there would be no traffic, and I would have a standing date with my best friends each week no matter where they lived.

But, if I can't have everything I want all in one place, I can sit still and be so grateful that I get to have it all on one globe.  To think that people fiercely love me and pray for me and my family from miles and miles away is such an incredible gift that it makes friendship over distance totally worthwhile.  (Also, not having to ever sit in LA traffic is pretty great too! Haha)

We've already learned so much since being here.  We've seen God break us, heal us, challenge us, push us, and humble our hearts in multiple ways.  I've started grad school, Josh has a new job, and the girls are thriving in their new environment and going to start preschool one day a week next year.  We are busier than ever, depending on God more than ever, and excited about our future as a couple and family.  God has already brought amazing hope in new friendships and surrounded us with encouragers that point us to Jesus.  We are grateful to have found a wonderful church and looking forward to deepening more relationships in the new year.

Six months goes by so fast.  Just a year ago I was studying for the GRE and just beginning the application process to grad school.  Our daily lives have changed dramatically, and I miss the interactions in our old community with the people we "lived life with".  But, as I hold those memories and reflect on what a treasure that time in California was for us, it makes me all the more eager to wonder what is in store for us here.

What are you most excited about in the coming year?  How has your life changed in the last 6 months? Year?

As we countdown the days to Christmas and the New Year ahead, join me in thanking God for getting us through the ups and downs of 2013.  The fact that we are all here, supporting each other and living life "together" even in this small way is a testament to His faithfulness in the days ahead.

Why I'm Becoming a Therapist (pt. 1)

As you may have heard by now, I'm heading back to school!  It's been a loooong time since I've been in the classroom.  Okay (ahem) almost 8 years.  It's still hard for me to believe that I'm in graduate school since only a decade ago I wasn't even ever sure I would (or could) get my Bachelor's degree, let alone a Masters.

I haven't always liked school, but I've always loved the "idea" of school.  Needless to say, I was as shocked as anyone when I genuinely started entertaining the thought of going back.  I'll be the first to admit that I attained my Bachelor's in English by the skin of my teeth.  (I truly flirted my way through Spanish III so that I fulfilled the language requirement.  Otherwise, I'd still be 3 credits and many un-conjugated-Spanish-words away from holding a degree in my hands.  Whew!)

But, the beautiful thing about graduate school (and one of the things I'm most looking forward to) is that everyone really wants to be there.  Every student there has worked hard and specifically applied to get to this time and place, and everyone is interested in the same subject matter.  Yay!  I can't wait to be meeting my fellow psychopaths (though I may withhold that particular nickname until a few weeks into school).

I'm going to get my Masters in Marriage & Family Therapy.  Yes, I will be a licensed therapist when all is said and done (that is, after many many many more hours of accumulating licensing hours even after I have my degree in hand).  So, this is a genuine commitment, and I'm in it for the long haul.

Why in the world would I want to be a therapist? 

Well, first of all, my primary reason is that I'm called to it.  No, I don't think I have what it takes to "fix others"...but, I do believe that Jesus does.  And I believe that a whole host of a never-ending education (in and outside of the classroom) will help me be able to relate this to anyone who God may place in my path.

I always thought about becoming a therapist "later on" when my kids were in school and I had life more figured out and it was "convenient" etc. etc. etc.  You get the picture.  Then, as we began talking about moving to Nashville last fall, I started to have some conversations with people I deeply respect who literally just pegged the question at me (many times, out of the blue, within about a week's time) Have you ever thought about becoming a therapist?

I actually had.  Many times.  But, I kept sweeping the idea out of the way simply because it didn't "fit"into my lifestyle at the moment. Still, when that many people pose the same question to you, it kind of makes you stop and wonder.  So, I did.  I wondered.  Then I googled.  And soon enough I found myself showing my husband websites of universities in Tennessee that offered programs that fit both our schedules and our dreams.  It was weird.  It was surprising.  It was everything I'd been waiting on.

Okay, okay (I can hear you saying) but why a therapist?  

Here's the thing about therapy.  Think about having coffee with your best friend.  They understand you, they want to be around you, they like to listen to you.  Now, imagine telling that friend anything or everything you may be feeling or worried about, or just excited about, or really anything.

You completely trust your friend...but, if you are being honest with yourself, your friend has deep opinions about your life and others around you.  Of course they do - they should - that's what friends are for.

Now, replace that best friend with an unfamiliar, yet kind face.  Someone who is approachable, will pray for and over you, and someone who you trust completely within moments of meeting them.  This person listens to you, they validate you, they are concerned with the reality of truth and your perception of it rather than how things may just appear.

They have no judgment, they are only here to help.  And, just when you feel like you are getting a little bored, they pose a perfect question or scenario to make you reconsider a new angle of looking at your life that you would not have considered otherwise.  They are the objective and safe voice that respects and considers who you are and why.

That's what a therapist has done for me in the past.  That's what a good therapist does.  (And so much more - and yet even more that I have yet to learn!)

If the idea of a therapist is uncomfortable for you - I'm going to guess that you probably have never been to a therapist before, or you've been to a really bad one.  I can say this, because I've been there, and I've been to both, and I can understand your hesitation.

Unfortunately, as in any occupation, there are some terrible, ill-equipped people doing this job.  Sure.  It happens.  Just like there are awful lawyers out there.  Just like there are smarmy mechanics.  Just like there are jaded teachers or bitter pastors.  And, if you've gone to a terrible counselor (or even know someone who has) and felt like they were master-mind manipulators out to get paid exorbitant amounts of money just to ask "How does that make you feel?" then you probably have very little respect for the occupation.

BUT - this is where I come in and give you a hug and ask you to take a second look.  I'm sorry if that's happened to you.  That was not cool.  And on behalf of what will soon be "my people" (haha) I cringe at the idea of anyone mis-using or abusing the teachings of psychology and communication to mis-lead or manipulate in any way.  That's not what a counselor should be.  And that's definitely not what Christian counseling is all about.

I'm becoming a therapist because I believe the greatest Counselor of ALL TIME was Jesus Christ.  My gifts and interests culminate at a point where I want to understand others and help them identify with Jesus and seek Him for their healing as they grow to understand how their lives (every aspect of it) can be a resourceful tool for His glory.

Jesus didn't just come down to earth, die, and leave.  He came and related to others.  He listened, He felt, He taught, and He equipped.  He granted us numerous tools (love, respect, and encouragement, just to name a few) to share among others - all of which reflect HIS characteristics.  I can only hope I can be that kind of counselor in the future to someone else.

It probably goes without saying, but another huge reason for my getting my Masters in this, is simply to enrich my writing.  As you know, I love to write about marriage and family - what it means, the honest struggles it includes, and the journey I'm taking in learning through it all.  I can't think of a better education to receive for what I know and love than to dig deeper and acquire the academic credential my heart is already on fire for.  Basically, I want the knowledge to match the passion...so, I'm getting it.

Stay tuned...tomorrow, I'm continuing this topic.  I have another HUGE reason I'm becoming a therapist that just might surprise you.

My City pt. 3

It's been awesome giving y'all (I can officially just start using "y'all" unashamedly now) a virtual tour of my new city, Nashville.  Yesterday I took you through 21st Ave, West End, and Downtown.  Today, we're exploring some areas off the beaten path, starting with another Avenue, not too far down from where we started yesterday.

The area of town deemed "12 South" is quickly becoming the new 21st (though they each have their unique qualities, and with the growing population of young-somethings in Nashville there won't be any need for these areas to compete).

Twelfth Avenue is greatly re-gentrified since I lived here last.  It's riddled with hip small businesses, giving you a taste of the local scene and the organic underground that is surfacing with catchy titles like "Moda Boutique", "Portland Brew", "Urban Grub" and "Frothy Monkey Coffeehouse" (get a turtle latte or white monkey mocha for some seriously delicious caffeine).

Other spots of interest will be Burger Up, Las Paletas (which you may have seen on Food Network) and the ultra hiip (yes, it deserves the extra i) "Imogene & Willie clothetier that will custom fit denim so incredulously to your form that it is nearly a crime to just call them "jeans".

Now that you've had a full dose of hipster for the day, let's head out of town.  If you ever visit Nashville, the Opryland Hotel is an absolute must.  It's one of those things that you just don't think you care to see until you are there, and it is spectacular enough that you'll probably want to go again.  Sure, once you've seen it, you've seen it, but it's still in the category of "just gotta see it" if you are anywhere in the area.

Basically, the Opryland Hotel brings the outside inside, and you can take full walks around various GIANT areas of perfectly landscaped atriums named "Cascade", "Delta" and "Magnolia".  Yes, it is the perfect outing for parents and grandparents.  But, they also serve great food (incredible brunches overtake the hotel on holidays like Mother's Day or Easter) and the entire premise is surprisingly stroller-friendly.

Next to the Opryland Hotel (and this is about 25 minutes east of Nashville) is the NEW Grand Ole Opry (I actually saw Taylor Swift's Grand Ole Opry debut there way back when she was "Taylor who?" True story.) And next to that is Opry Mills, which is pretty much exactly like any other "Mills" shopping center if you've been before...but, they do have the only H&M in the city, so it's worth the trek.

Last stop, Green Hills.  Heading back into the city, past downtown, and just south of the 21st Avenue area, you'll find Green Hills.  It's been my theory that if you want all the rich people to settle into one area, simply tag "Hills" on the end of the name and they'll eventually congregate there.  This holds true for Green Hills, and it lives up to it's lush name.  (The mall has marble floors! and a Nordstrom!)

There is a newish Green Hills shopping area called "Hill Center Green Hills" (see, I'm not kidding about that HILL theory) and it's posh, and perfectly snobby, and exceedingly pretentious, and you will totally love it.  Here's where you'll find your Whole Foods, your Anthropologie, and West Elm.  There's some smaller shops too, all neatly tucked in between those shops we just always feel "not as cool as we could be until I buy THAT" and so it flows well.

Surprisingly, just a few blocks away and across the street, you'll find a very authentic, boring little shopping center.  But, in this little nook of town lies one of Music City's treasures:  The Bluebird Cafe. You've seen it in movies, you've heard about it, and if you aren't watching the show Nashville then you're missing out on glimpses of it on a weekly basis.  The thing is, you've probably envisioned it in the middle of Music Row or Downtown next to a honky-tonk; but, you've been sorely misled.

The Bluebird is as legendary as it gets in Nashville, and if you can catch a songwriters-in-the-round night there, you've struck gold and might be witnessing music history.  It's simple, it's small, you'll want to order a domestic beer to be cool and act like you don't care that you are sitting in a venue that's so legendary.  And you'll wanna kick up your boots and just listen...cause, that's what you do in Music City (if you're not playing, you're listening).

I hope you've enjoyed our mini-tour.  There's LOTS left here that I've left out.  I didn't even delve into East Nashville or Brentwood, or a zillion little eccentricities that make this city so great.  We didn't even visit the Farmer's Market or the Capital.  We didn't drive south to Franklin and visit the old theatre.  Well, maybe you will just have to visit sometime.

And if you do, let me know.  Cause I ain't never leavin.

(Y'all come back now, y'hear)

My City pt 1

It's been two months since we started our journey of 2,000 miles cross-country and moved from California to Tennessee.  I lived in Nashville years ago, so part of this move has felt like a strange homecoming of sorts for me.  If any of you are sci-fi fans, you can appreciate the thought of this process feeling like I was entering into an alternate universe (think, Fringe-style).

It is familiar, I can remember my way around...and then all of a sudden I will see new buildings out of place, or a renovation of something completely new, or old spaces filled up with unrecognizable structures.  It's been a weird, comfortable-yet-uncomfortable combination of getting to re-learn this city I once knew.

I can tell you this, we're right where we should be.  We're home, and that's probably the strangest comfortable-yet-uncomfortable feeling of them all.  I fit in here.  My spouse and children fit in here.  My family was a wandering puzzle piece that is slowly completing the picture of what this city should look like.

I say that seriously, because I truly believe God has HUGE plans for using us Pardys in this city, and why not dream big?  We're only beginning to settle into this pond that God will generate a ripple-effect from.  Since we're handing this vision of impact over to Him, I'm not limiting its boundaries!

When one of our dearest friends visited last week, we got to finally (after weeks of unpacking and healing and settling in) GET OUT and see this city.  It was time to show off Nashville and sink our teeth into some of the many fun things this city has to offer.

Now, I can't show you everything - that would take years (which I slowly intend on doing through the course of my time here).  But, starting tomorrow, I'll virtually give you all a little tour of our new city, Music City and some of my very favorite spots.

Sure, I've only been back a couple months - you can probably get more information from Yelp or Travel Advisor, but stick around if you want the ten-cent-Pardy tour.

Welcome to Nashville, y'all.

Under Attack

photo cred to my 3-yr-old.
That's me, prayin over the chaos

My friends, I don't say this lightly when I tell you the truth: my family has been under spiritual attack.

I hope that you were able to read the previous few posts from last week regarding our "waiting season" of life at the moment.  How we up-and-moved across country.  How we took a leap of faith and settled into a new home.  How we're still waiting on the promise of a job for my husband to come through.  How we're living life on the frustrating fence built by trust and obedience that feels like it might collapse any day now.

We've lived in Nashville about 6 weeks now, and none of them have been easy.  It's not like we're facing life and death circumstances, I don't mean to belittle any hardships that others might be going through by any means.  But, our time since leaving California has been fraught with obstacles; and, well, their piling up into a ridiculous mess that can no longer be ignored.

Besides my freak accident of falling down the stairs (and being debilitated for a good couple weeks), we've faced annoying strife after annoying strife.   Just last week both our daughters caught the stomach flu.  I got a terrible cold the day after.  And the next morning, my two-year-old woke up with mysterious "bug bites" covering her arms.  After 72 hours of thinking we might have bed bugs in our house (talk about a panic attack) we see two doctors and finally get a diagnosis that she is fighting a virus that should be cleared up in about a week with Benadryl and a steroid.  (Poor baby!)

sick babies are just SO SAD

It was about this time yesterday, still sick with worry that my polka-dotted-baby might have something seriously wrong with her, that I began to ask God whether or not a plague was truly on our home!?!  I mean, I felt like I was trying my hardest to look through rose colored glasses that were smeared, stained, cracked, and barely hanging on my face any longer.  I'M TRYING HERE, GOD!  HELP!

Deep in the dark of nighttime, as I lay in bed and hold my daughters close (they slept with us the last couple nights as we had to quarantine their room) I felt a small voice of assurance echoing in my heart.  It sounded something like this, These are not signs of misdirection.  You face these adversities because you are on the right path, not the wrong one.  I never promised it would be easy.  I promised I would be here. I am.

It was the sound of truth, of Jesus, of the reality that I could no longer feel but could wholeheartedly recognize, nevertheless.  I have access to the peace that surpasses all understanding through the Savior, and that's the only thing I can cling to right now.  As my weeks are riddled with confusion, chaos, and the grief of another job rejection, I must rest securely in the unchanging TRUTH that Jesus isn't going anywhere.  Praise be.

Satan wants nothing more than to make us give up, or fight with each other, or to take credit for the job ourselves when it finally comes.  I'm thinking he must especially hate that I'm writing about it all - how I honestly struggle with finding God's goodness in this messy day-to-day struggle; but, then, I don't have to be the one finding it because God is constantly pursuing ME, seeking to reveal Himself in new and amazing ways.  I'm pretty sure Satan didn't like that I wrote all about the realities of unemployment last week - and how God is using that for teaching us to depend on Him more and ourselves less.  And I'm sure he will hate that my husband and I are growing closer and more in love through this time.

So, please, join me in not giving up.  Join me in praying openly and helping give glory to God through these hard times.  Pray for my family, that God would provide for us and protect us emotionally, spiritually, financially, and physically.  I'm not too proud to genuinely reach out and ask you to please pray for that job to find its way to my husband, that the right door would open or the right person would pick up his call.

God is using each of us, connecting us in amazing ways, building an incredible network that will somehow glorify Him to the utmost - and we are all part of that story.

Matilda, praying over the Dining Room

This evening, spawned by the encouragement from a friend, our family gathered in every single space in our new home and held prayer over that area.  We prayed against Satan and In Jesus Name spoke aloud a command to have anything evil leave each premise.

We prayed to specifically invite the Holy Spirit into each space - every bathroom, closet, bedroom, and so on.  If there was a doorway, we prayed over it.  We covered it in truth, and asked God to bring peace and thanksgiving and goodness into our home.

Some of you readers might find me kooky, or paranoid, or hyper-spiritual, or just desperate.  I'm cool with all those terms.  What's important here, what I want you to know about me is this - I'm nothing if I'm not transparent.  I'm telling you the truth about what I really believe.

I get upset, I get confused, I get angry - God knows all this.  I love Jesus and talk to Him all the time - yet, it wasn't until today that I finally put hands on my doorframe and spoke aloud my prayers openly.  Be specific.  Be deliberate.  Be fervent in your gestures and requests to Jesus.  I don't think something "magical" happens when you pray out loud or extend your hands - there is NOTHING we can do that changes who God is in any way.  But, it certainly changed ME, and it freed me of any burden I might feel in my home.  There is only one Master of the house around here in the Pardy home, and it felt amazingly refreshing to speak that out loud again and again and again.

Thank you for your prayers.  I feel them and know they are lifting me up each day.  I cherish them and welcome them and can't wait to share so many answers to those prayers as they come.

Numbskull (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 3

Throughout this process of waiting on a job, I have wanted to kill my husband many times.  It’s fine, really, because he’s wanted to kill me too, and usually this ends with us taking a giant sigh and sending one of us out the door to relax a bit.  It’s amazing what even a drive alone can do for one’s patience.

The Village Chapel, our new church home

Unemployment is like the unplanned vacation to nowhere that you never wanted to take.  In your mind, you think "Hey, maybe a little time off would be nice" and you have visions of utilizing time in between job applications to read or bake or start one of those many Pinterest projects you've been pondering.  But, it's not like that at all.  

While my husband is the one actually filling out the applications (since I'll be a full-time student in less than a month, I've only applied to part-time work), never-you-mind that this is fully a TEAM Pardy effort.  We scrutinize his resume together, we pray over emails and cover letters that are sent, and we strategize as much as possible to get his foot in the door somewhere.  It's been said that looking for a full-time job is a full-time job, and that's no joke.

But, the reality is, that we’re just not used to living in each others’ presence all the time and so, the precious moments that make up “alone time” become imperative to our survival (and happiness).  We also want to continue actually liking each other – something we both consider rather high on the list of priorities in our marriage.  ;)

So, while there have been waves of tension ebbing and flowing as the job search continues, humor and honesty have become even more essential ingredients to our sustainability than ever before.

A few times over the last couple months, we’ve been frustrated and dumbstruck at our own lack of faith.  Yes, we are here – having obediently trusted God as He has moved us across the country.  Yes, we are here with food on our table and a roof over our head.  And yet, we take turns (well, sometimes at the same time) getting angry at our situation – at how could God possibly be making us STILL wait on a job to come through!?  How, God, how?  Argh!!

You gotta love a good Jesus meme

And, then, in a moment of refreshment or humor, we laugh at our ridiculousness.  One night, we just shook our heads at ourselves saying, “We are JUST like the Israelites.  We are so dumb.  Like, gee, God, I know you’ve given us food to eat up out of the GROUND and all, and you’ve provided for our every need up until now – but, what about tomorrow???? We are grumpy and annoying, and very, very forgetful.”  It’s strange how relieving the reminder of our stupidity is to me, but it calms me in realizing just how OUT of control of the situation I am.  And there is much freedom in not being the one in charge.

Never did this feeling hit home more than last Sunday when we were sitting in church.  We are so grateful for having a church to sink our teeth into immediately upon our arrival to a new home – one of the many benefits of having family in town (who also attend there).  I’ll cut to the chase and just give you part of the Scripture that Pastor Jim Thomas at The Village Chapel spoke on that day:

Mark 8: 16 – 2116. They [the disciples] began to discuss with one another the fact that they had no bread.  17. And Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet see or understand? Do you have a hardened heart?  18. Having eyes, do you not see?  Having ears, do you not hear?  And do you not remember, 19. when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces you picked up?”  They said to Him, “Twelve.” 20. “When I broke the seven for the four thousand, how many large baskets full of broken pieces did you pick up?”  And they said to Him, “Seven.” 21. And He was saying to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

Josh and I looked at each other as the Scripture was being read.  We gazed at the words again and slowly I leaned over, shaking my head and whispered, “We are so dumb.”  He just pursed his lips and nodded, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

We read this passage in times of “security” and goff at the stupidity and forgetfulness of the disciples.  Um, hellloooo? You guys JUST witnessed Jesus feeding thousands of mouths from practically nothing.  Do you seriously think He won’t provide for you numbskulls?

How many times do I need to be hit over the head with this one, God?  Well, apparently many, many times.  My humanity gets the best of me far too many times than I would like to admit.  I bitterly find myself praying for urgent provision as I climb into my comfortable bed at night.  Um, what an idiot.  Like my prayers are a little post-it note for Jesus to not forget us on His busy schedule up in heaven or something.  Good grief.

I have had less money before.  I have had plenty of money before.  I have been given incredibly generous gifts before.  I have been able to give incredible gifts before.  I have suffered.  I have celebrated.  And yet…I will still sit and worry and become frustrated with God whether He is really going to come through on this promise.  Reeeeally?  I’m no better than those numbskull disciples with short-term memory loss.

My own life history is a clear reflection of God’s faithfulness.  But, when that’s not enough, there are plenty of examples God has provided for us in His Word to knock us upside the head when we need it.  I’ll leave you with a classic Scripture, one that is probably familiar to many of you, yet never truer to my heart than now.

Philippians 4: 11b-13 [Important to note that Paul wrote this while he was in PRISON, nonetheless…]
“…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13. I can do all this through him [Jesus] who gives me strength.

Nonsense! (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 2

Choosing to quit a steady job is difficult and strange, especially when you don’t know what is next.  It had been a long process of prayers and contemplation as we took the official step of Josh quitting his job, planning our move across country, and not having a job lined up for us when we got there.  

I’m sure if you think about this for a minute, you have many of the same questions I had.  It’s funny, because as your loved ones watch you take this step of faith, they also begin to worry that you’ve lost your mind – something I also took into consideration!  People tiptoe around reminding you that you have children to provide for, bills to pay, and no guarantees for the future…as if these are things that you haven’t pined over in the middle of the night, tearfully pleading with Jesus for a neon sign to show you the answer. 

Just a couple angry toddlers here.

Questions and worries plague us as normal human beings, as parents, and as a couple that hopes for things like “a house with a yard” someday, let alone how to afford rent and health insurance on no income.  Trust me, whatever it is you are questioning, I have thought of it, I have worried about it profusely, I have taken it into account…and so has Jesus.  (But, thank you for the concern.)

The thing is, when it comes to obedience, I could either choose to trust Jesus or not.  Bottom line.  We do everything we can within our limited power to take opportunities and make the best of them, while constantly and prayerfully handing them over to God for His guidance and direction. 

And, you know what, somehow, some way, we are here in Nashville with full bellies and a roof over our head and clothes on our bodies.  We are alive and will give God the glory.  If that’s not a testament to His provision, I don’t know what is.  

Daily.  Daily, I am reminded that today was another day God provided.  DAILY.  Thank you, Jesus.

But, it is not easy to praise Jesus when He doesn’t give you what you want when you want it.  If you don’t agree with that, then you are probably lying.  (I’m just saying!)  I can act just like my toddlers throwing a tantrum for a toy in the middle of Target that I won’t buy for them.  I want to scream and pout and kick things, I’m so angry.  I want to demand reconsideration for what I think I DESERVE.  I huff and I puff, and I crumble into a messy fit of confusion.  And I always end with the same frustration:  it doesn’t make sense.

And then I cry out to Jesus.  And then I see His face.  And then I feel His arms.  And then I’m reminded of what a bloodsucking, bratty little sinner I am…and how I should get kicked to the curb and forgotten about and instead, here I am, getting comforted by the reality of a God who has given me so much, and I’m split open by the brutal irony of His love for me in one realization: IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

It doesn’t have to make sense to me.  Living faithfully, living obediently, doesn’t come with the stamped regularity of a direct-deposit check into my bank account.  There’s nothing wrong with making a steady income – that’s a good thing and I look forward to it again!  

But, there’s something very wrong with hanging my hat on it.  There’s something ridiculous about placing my security in my efforts or the abilities of my husband, or even in the trust of the next employer who reads my husband’s resume.  

God is in charge.  God has not forgotten us.  God will bring a job in His time, for His purpose.  God will continue to provide.  And we will continue to bring our messy selves to His feet and be reminded of His non-sensical love and provision for us. 

More on this nonsense tomorrow!

Klutz

I've been known to be sort of accident prone.  It's ironic that my middle name is Grace, because rarely do I live up to the expectation it may precede for me.  Usually this adds up to funny, self-depricating, occasionally embarrassing moments that I can chuckle about and turn into a good story later.  And, while I'm about to tell one of these stories, I'm not quite laughing about it yet.

Ten days after we made our gigantic move across country from Southern California to Nashville, Tennessee, I fell down the stairs.  But, I mean, I really fell down some stairs.  Obviously, I've lived to tell about it, so I'm fine. (Thanks, Jesus!) And usually I wouldn't want to linger on something so depressive...but, this really made an impact on my life (pun intended) so I'd be remiss not to share the experience with you.

It was stupid, really.  I wish I had a glamorous tale to tell of how it all happened, but I don't.  It was about 10pm and I was already in my jammies heading to bed.  Mind you, I'd been reprimanding my daughters ALL WEEK about stair safety and they even had a small topple of their own that led to some stern talkings-to about how we behave going up and down the steps.  (It's okay, you can laugh at that!)

I had heard our cat Zuzu (the painfully shy one) running around upstairs, so I went up to snag her.  No reason.  Just simple, stupid, normal-life stuff.  I went upstairs and picked her up, and turned to go back downstairs.  On the second step, I felt my left foot slip and in one of those awful-slow-motion-moments, I knew I was falling.  It was a perfect slip-on-a-banana-peel sort of klutzy move that perfectly landed me on my back about five steps down from the top, and then I slid a few more steps on my back.  If I was auditioning for a Buster Keaton film, I definitely would have nailed the part.

I gasped to draw breath for a laugh, when instead my face turned to utter anguish as I felt the most debilitating pain I've felt in my whole life.  I'm not kidding.  (And I've gone through natural labor pains for hours and hours.  I've felt pain!)  Josh was at the bottom of the stairs, his facial expression a mixture of disbelief and fear.

"Call 9-1-1.  Something is wrong."  I've never uttered those words in my life, so he knew I meant it.  I couldn't move the right side of my body.  He couldn't move me to the couch.  I was stuck on the stairs, crumpled over on my side, and my lower back and right hip felt like they were on fire.  What in the world did I do???

By the time the paramedics arrived, I was in shock.  I had vomited and nearly blacked out, and they couldn't find a pulse or my blood pressure.  But, I could move my toes and state my name...Thank you God, I thought.

Moving me was excruciating.  I've never heard myself sound the way I did.  I kept involuntarily screaming in pain, tears bursting out of my face.  I was screaming at the top of my lungs and my daughters' bedroom was 15 feet away where they were sound asleep.  And I'm the person who, on a normal night, will mute theme songs and commercials on the TV a whole story away just to ensure they don't wake up from the sound of the television!  It is a miracle in and of itself that the girls slept through the entire ordeal.  Again, thanks be to God.

I'd never ridden in an ambulance before.  I barely remember it because my eyes were shut almost the entire time as I focused all my physical resources towards tolerating the pain.  My brother had rushed over as soon as Josh called him (after calling 911) and so, he stayed there until my sister-in-law and their kids came over to stay at our place to be with the girls in case they woke up.

Josh and my brother followed the ambulance to the medical center just a couple miles away (though, it seemed like one of the longest rides of my life).  Everything was bright and weird and blurry and unsettling.  I just wanted answers.  Answers and massive amounts of pain killers, please.

Two CAT Scans, an IV, a catheter, and about six hours later, I was released with a very boring diagnosis.  A bruise.  Okay, not exactly just a bruise...a to-the-bone-deep severe contusion on the right side of my lower back/hip.  The muscle had basically been ruptured by the blow of the fall, and so I was sent home with four prescriptions of pain killers and muscle relaxants.

I had no idea what was in store for me when it came to recovery.  All I knew was, I'm going to be okay.  And for the moment, that was enough relief for all of us.  The healing process would be a whole other ballgame.

(Stay tuned tomorrow to hear what I learned through my recovery and how I'm doing now.)

Home Sweet Home

Well, as you can imagine, I was just itching to get inside our new home.  Since we'd travelled over 2,000 miles and waited weeks and weeks to see inside our new home, I was at my wits end to get inside this apartment I'd rented for our family sight unseen.

I think I exhaled the deepest sigh of my life upon entering our new abode.  Parquet flooring (real wood! no laminate!) welcomed my eager feet on our first level.  The space was clean and open and smelled of fresh paint (ah, sweet relief!)

The dining area was ample, with a new light fixture hanging in the middle of the room.  And the kitchen was small but adequate.  I quickly noticed it's charm in some of the mismatched cupboard doors and a piece of the counter that was completely different than the rest.  I love those sorts of things - signs that life has happened here, and it welcomed us with all our creativity and flaws.  Character, if not love, makes a home.

Dining area, just to the left when you walk in

The upstairs bathroom. Yay!

Jesus mug, making his home in the new kitchen :)

And this place has plenty of character!  Some quirky tile in the bathrooms (yes! plural! a whole half-bath upgrade from our last place) and non-turning door knobs on the closets in the bedrooms (as in, they are just knobs) soon began to tell me that this was exactly the perfect place for us.  Not perfect, but charming...quite a bit like us.

The bedrooms are both good size, and for once, our massive king-size bed actually has room on both sides for walking around it.  The carpet upstairs was new too, just awaiting the many juice and crayon stains I'm certain my girls will mark their territory with all too soon.

Breaking in our space, one messy meal at a time.

And, above anything else, was the one space that captured my heart:  the laundry room.  Innovatively tucked beneath the stairwell, was a little closet that would hold my soon-to-be new best friends (Mr. Washer, and Mrs. Dryer).  We didn't have a washer and dryer in our last home, and so it genuinely is a game-changer to our lives as we get to wash and dry our clothes in our very own space.  Not only that, but there is a dishwasher in the kitchen!  Yahoo!  No more scrubbing out sippy cups!  So help me, I am determined to never take these appliances for granted.

Dance PARDY in the living room!

All in all, our new home is AWESOME.  We just adore it, and are eagerly and slooowly making it our own.  As we hang pictures and fit all our belongings into their new spaces, we're grounding ourselves into new habits and routines that will soon become "normal".  But, for right now, it's fun exploring all the new crevices of our castle.  We proudly hang our "P" on our door, marking our territory (pun intended) for all to see where we reside.

The closets are filled with clothes.  The cabinets hold our dishes.  And as these early days fly by, we're doing our best to fill the rooms with prayers and laughter.  These walls await many memories we're about to make.  Thank you, Lord, for providing our new home.

Come visit!

Sight Unseen

One takes many risks when deciding to pick up and move across the country.  Sure, there's the cost, the inconvenience, and even the courage you have to muster in order to conquer the distance.  But, in our case, there was an additional mystery added to our venture.  We had never seen the apartment we were about to move our lives into.

Now, I've moved into a new space "sight unseen" before; but, that was way back before a husband or children were in the picture.  I figured I could just about get by living anywhere, and indeed I did.  But, this was a whole new ballgame.

When the final decision was made that, yes, indeed, we were officially moving to Nashville.  I started scouring the internet in search of our next home.  I had limited criteria, "safety" and "location" being at the foremost of my priorities.  Certainly, "cost" was a MAJOR factor as we anticipated the probability of moving without a job in place.  But, the nice thing was that when you live in California, just about anywhere is going to be cheaper than your used to, so that was a huge bonus in our favor.

I clumsily bounced around various websites, filtering out the scary ones and weeding through the unattainables.  Still, I wasn't really finding anything that seemed to fit our needs.  Then, a friend of mine in Nashville emailed me a very casual "maybe check out this place" as a friend of a friend of ours lived there years ago.  The thing was - there was no website, no photos, no nothing to go on what this apartment complex actually looked like from 2,000 miles away.

It was a Friday when I called their leasing office.  Against all odds (and the manager actually told me, they never have openings for their 2 bedrooms) there was an opening in mid-June.  On Sunday, I emailed our application.  On Monday morning we got a call that we got the apartment.  Done deal.  Whoa.  What had I just gotten us into???? 

This is when it started to really sink in that we were going to move.  We had a new home waiting for us.  We just didn't know what it looked like.

Fortunately, I was able to have my sister-in-law and my friend drive-by the complex and scope it out a bit.  It appeared well taken care of, and nothing scary on the outside.  I got a few photos sent to me of the premises and even our new front door.  But still, the inside was a mystery!

So...you can only imagine my anxiety, my hope, and my relief when we pulled up and I saw a clean, stable, brick building before me.  The grass was mowed, the cars in the lot were normal (nothing up on cinder blocks, thank goodness) and a few nice big trees dotted the lawn in front of our new home.  The time had come....ENTER!

Tune in tomorrow for a look INSIDE!  :)

Last Leg

BACKTRACK here and read about our ROADTRIP.

We were more than halfway there.  We just picked up our girls in Kansas – alive and well and bubbling with excitement to get to their new home they’d been hearing about for weeks.  I can only imagine this idea to their little toddler minds.  What did they envision?  What did they fear?  What did they anticipate?

All I could think about was “Just get there.  Just get there.  Just get there.”

Our plan was to drive about 10 hours the first day and get to St. Louis and stay the night at a nice hotel as a family, then we would only have about 6 hours to cover the next day before moving into our new home.  It was a good plan, but another flat tire brought a major time setback, and so it was 9pm before we checked into the hotel.  I don’t think the girls crashed in bed before midnight.  Oy.

crazy girls...crazy TIRED girls

The hotel was great (I would highly recommend the Drury Plaza at the Arch in St. Louis if you ever find yourself there) but we had our sights set on our own home and our own bed and our own everything – and sometimes when you just long for home, it doesn’t matter how nice your surroundings are…if it’s not home, it’s not home.

The next day brought as much frustration as it did fruition.  We were so insanely excited for this final day to be here; and yet, traffic and cranky toddlers have a tendency to obscure joy into pure anxiety.

We had invested in a DVD player for the car prior to the move.  This was gold.  [Insert judgment for my modern parenting skills here.]  It paid for itself tenfold before the first movie even finished.  Still, toddlers want to MOVE and their car seats aren’t exactly designed for energy-expenditure.  By the third viewing of Wreck It Ralph, I thought I was going to lose my mind.  I couldn’t take being asked “Where are we?” one more time.  And this was just about exactly the time we got stuck in traffic.  Again.  Seriously?

Suddenly it seemed like months of preparation had narrowed down to this final tunnel of squandered hope.  I thought I might lose it.  My last nerve was being frayed as we drove on and on and on, until a single vein of trust started pulsing inside me.  “Just get there. Just get there.  Just get there.”

Traffic.  Yuck.

And then, the city appeared.  Two thousand miles of road and fear and mystery and anticipation and anxiety and worry and doubt…now, behind us.  We pulled up to our new apartment complex.  We had never seen it before and not even seen photos of the inside of our apartment.  But, the sweetest sight was my family waiting there to greet us. 

My brother, sister-in-law, and their kids who live just minutes from our new home were waiting with open arms to welcome us to our new life.  My girls ran up and hugged them, and suddenly for the first time I felt a new clench in my heart:  “Finally,” I thought.   “Hugs of hello.”

We were here to stay.

Roadtrip

We just packed up our lives.  We’re moving from California to Nashville, TN.  BACKTRACK here.

Josh and I had a long road ahead of us.  We romanticized the idea of traveling the 1,300 miles to get to our girls on the way to moving to Nashville.  I mean, who doesn’t love the idea of a roadtrip?! 

Road TRIP!!!!  Tunes and snacks galore, not to mention the many mindless hours to just chill and see God’s creation.  It all seems so poetic until you are actually on the road and you just find yourself eating out of boredom and having to pee all the time.  Not exactly the pioneering paradise we dreamt about. 

I’ll admit, I was mostly clinging to my husband’s expectations.  This was actually my fourth time to drive cross-country, and so I knew the lack-luster feeling of just wanting to GET THERE.  As much as I tried to revive the Jack Kerouac in me, I grew anxious and annoyed with each mile, trying to summon my patience with beef jerky and twizzlers. 

We stopped at his folks in Arizona the first night.  That was emotional in and of itself, because it would be the last of the good-byes that fell into the category of “not-knowing-exactly-when-we-will-see-you-next” and I just hate that.  It’s always so much easier to say good-bye when you can at least tell yourself how long it will be until you say hello again.  But, we forged ahead, 6 hours down, and many more to go.

About 13 hours later we ended up in Tucumcari, NM.  We stayed at a crappy hotel (hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em) where I’m pretty sure there was a coyote graveyard in the back and meth being sold in the ditch out front.  In other words, it was lovely.  But, we survived and showered, and got back on the road as soon as possible.  About 5 more hours into the next day, we got a flat tire on the moving trailer.

Now, let me tell you, if you are going to break down somewhere, you probably aren’t going to want it to be in a place named Hooker (Oklahoma).  But, seeing as we had no choice to the matter, we did break down there.  So, as we waited for Penske to come to our rescue, I climbed up into the moving truck and kept Josh and the cats company.

Ah, yes – didn’t I mention?  We were traversing with 2 CATS.  They were just as giddy about the long car rides as I was (okay, not even that much) and thrilled to be parked on the side of a windy highway where we were suddenly at a halt.  Ugh.  The only thing worse than sitting in a car and traveling at a slow pace is sitting in a car and not moving at all. 

But, we made it.  Penske came to our rescue, changed out the tire, and we were back on the road having lost only our patience and two hours of travel time.  All in all, we were grateful to be in one piece and keeping our cats alive.  Not only that, but we were inching our way closer to sweet reunion with our girls.

I’ve never been happier to see such silly, squealing girls.  They ran out to greet us, and it was like Christmas and my birthday all in one.  They looked bigger and louder and much more happy than I remembered them.  They molded like butter into my arms, and my aching heart that was so empty from all the good-byes in California was urgently bursting with completion. 

Our family was together.  Our family was whole again.  Our family was ready to embark on the final adventure towards our new life.

Nashville or bust.