a walk of faith

Before I start this post, it's important to mention that just yesterday, I was doing some housekeeping on the blog format - and noticed that I had a load of unpublished comments awaiting my approval. Some of the comments were from a few days ago, and some went back several years, which was quite a shock!  

There once was a time - long, long ago, when our children took naps and went to bed before 11 PM - I would write prolifically.  That has really tapered off in recent years, and I rarely hear from people anymore.  Although,  I've tried to keep this space somewhat updated as a means of chronicling our lives, I didn't think very many people still read my jabberings.  

Seeing all of the comments yesterday has me both flattered and self-conscious.  While there are a few people I know that read it on the rare occasion I write (Hi Mom! Hi Mrs. Dunnigan!), I've begun equating my writing to singing in the shower.  You really belt it out when you're alone because you know no one is going to hear it.  Or, those that might hear it - love you enough to forgive your imperfections, or laugh when you're way off key.   

It was a really nice surprise to hear from so many people that have been reading this space since our children were babies. Thank you for reaching out to me! Now that I know where the comments awaiting approval are located, I promise I'll do a better job checking them.  (And work on my run-on sentences.)

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Charlie recently found this picture / meme which is such a perfect visual of our lives at the moment. Doesn't it actually look like the guy is dressed for Vermont?

La dee da da da .... I'm walking straight off a cliff! 

Whenever I find myself talking with strangers about how we happened to "land" here, it never fails to elicit a gasp, usually followed by an exclamation of how awesome and inspiring it is that we just took this huge leap of faith.  The fact is: this move and everything we've done over the past few months is all about faith. 

According to Hebrews 11:1, Faith is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. 

We've got SO MUCH FAITH that things are going to work out positively for us in Vermont.  Although, I will admit, coming to this "place" has not been without a significant amount of second guessing and a couple full-blown panic attacks.  While I'd love to say that I've just embraced this whole experience with a heart full of peace and bliss, I'm nothing if not transparent and honest. 

There have been a few times over the past couple of months where I've started hyperventilating and from a nearly fetal position on the ground, asked, "Why are we here? WHY VERMONT? Why not warm South Carolina near my mom and Aunt Grace? We don't know anybody here! What have we done?! I gave up my stable and lucrative career, 4.5 years from retirement! We gave up our home and our community!  Winter is coming soon, we still have 250 boxes to unpack, I have no idea where my down jacket is .... and we're all going to freeze and perish!" 

We knew no one when we stopped dropped and rolled on the banks of Lake Champlain in late July.  No jobs. No home. No community. No, nothing except a hope and a prayer - and our beloved Airstream. 

Despite not having any roots here, we started sowing seeds, fast.  

As of this writing, we are dialed in with a church and bible study group, an orthodontist - dentist - doctors, a ladies cards group, two scout troops, two schools - and various sports teams. William and Elizabeth have both started part-time jobs, and I'll be starting a knitting group once we get settled in to our new home, which is scheduled to close on Friday.  

As in, this Friday ... Charlie's birthday.  

Aside from Charlie's part-time work, we do not yet have jobs.  There's a large part of me that cannot believe we bought a home without having steady employment - but we did.  Why?  Because it was a better financial investment than renting, we believe we are going to be here for a while (at least until the children graduate from high school!) and most importantly: we have faith. 

The confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen.   

The evidence of things we cannot yet see. 

A couple weeks ago, on a particularly challenging day, I stumbled upon the wisdom of 94-year old Catherine Ponder.  Catherine is a prosperity guru, predating Tony Robbins and Joel Osteen, and her message, in a nutshell, is that we need to turn the great energy of our thinking in to ideas of plenty.  

Rather than plague ourselves with negative thoughts, we instead need to open our minds to receive the universal abundance that is ours.  Some of her key points (I took notes from her nearly four hour 1972 conference on YouTube!) include:

- Things are getting better and better

- Get rid of what you don't want to make room for what you do want

- There must be a release of the old to make way for the new 

- We must let go of all worn out things: worn out conditions, worn out relationships

- Order must be established, we need to get things in "divine order" for channels to open

- We must believe that it is spiritually right to prosper and let go of any guilt

- Dynamic is dynamite: If you work your plan, it will blast us out of our own limitations 

- Get definitive in thoughts and actions, and vast improvement will come quickly to life

That last point is so powerful, I love it.  We must get definitive about what you want.

Ever since I've listened to this message, I have tried to be very intentional with my energy: my thoughts, my actions, my time. And I have been extremely grateful for all the blind steps that we've taken over the past 100 days on this journey, that have miraculously, time and time again, been met with solid ground.  

But I still need some help with being intentional. It turns out, I can be very easily distracted and sometimes have the mental capacity of a potato chip.  

Perhaps I need to take more naps and drink more water.  

Walking straight off a cliff in to a new life can be exhausting, and dehydrating.

there are no accidents

A week ago, Wednesday, Charlie and I were standing in the kitchen, the kids had just left for school, and we were sipping our coffee and tea, while waiting for the moving truck to arrive from Houston. In a few minutes, I was supposed to be heading out to a job interview in a nearby town.  

It was a big day for us. 

It had been nearly 19 weeks since we'd last seen our belongings and we were so excited at the prospect of sleeping in actual beds again.  Our possessions had been significantly truncated because we conveyed a lot with the sale of the house, and donated a lot more. But, we were filled with anticipation for our dining room table, beds, and clothes to arrive.  While we love our camping apparel - it's nice to not wear hiking pants and jeans every day.  

Perhaps once we had our own things again - we'd start to feel some semblance of normalcy.  And once I had a job interview and received some positive feedback, my self-confidence and feeling of value would be restored.  Interestingly enough - as much as I desperately want to find another role and get back in to the driver's seat as the mover and shaker I know that I am ... to the core of my being, I did not want to go to this interview. 

For whatever reason, I have had an overwhelming pull that I'm not ready.  Despite the fact that Charlie and / or I want and / or need to have a job soon so we can continue our benefits - and feed our children - on this particular day, I had a grim sense of foreboding about this interview.  And yet, I was mechanically going through all of the motions: taking a shower, getting dressed, finding my long-lost make-up and putting it on.  My mind had completely taken over and was propelling my body forward because this was something I surely needed to do to lessen the death grip of anxiety that had a hold of my heart for the past three months. Maybe things would lighten up and the feeling of relief would be palpable when a company recognized my superb talent and worth.  I was trying to pump myself up for the interview, Charlie was telling me to get in to the Wonder Woman Power Pose.  Nothing was helping.  My heart wasn't in it. But I grabbed my purse and keys and was preparing to walk out the door. 

Just before I got there, the phone rang.  

Charlie answered it.  An hour earlier, he had spoken with the truck driver who let him know she would be running two hours late because she'd had mechanical issues that forced her off the road until she could have her rig repaired.  From the look on his face, now, surely there was another problem with the moving truck. He was rubbing his head, and had grave concern in his eyes, with teeth clenched.  

What could it possibly be?  Please, not an accident!  My thoughts immediately went to the driver. Instead, it was the school nurse calling to tell us that Elizabeth had a serious accident at school and needed to be picked up and taken to the hospital, promptly.  They said she passed out while seated, and struck her head on the ground and was now very confused.  Charlie hung up and relayed the information to me, and I crumbled in to tears.  NOOOOOOOOO! Not my baby!     

The roller coaster that I hoped was almost over, made another rapid descent. 

Every imaginable fear flooded my brain with what precipitated this event and what would happen, next.  Pulling myself together, I called the company I was supposed to meet in 30 minutes, and told them I would be unable to make it. Then I drove to the school to get our daughter, while Charlie stayed home to meet the movers who would be pulling in to the neighborhood within an hour.  When they rolled Elizabeth out of the building in a wheelchair, she looked even worse than I expected. She had a bad cut above her eye and wounds on her face where she had landed when she pitched out of her chair.  Her eyes, full of tears, were so frightened. She did not understand what had happened - nor why it happened. 

Miracle of miracles, I didn't stumble when I saw my sweet girl, but tapped an inner strength that convinced my daughter, and myself, that All Would Be Well.   We just need to breathe deeply, keep our faith, pray for continued strength, and put one foot in front of the other.  SMILE.  Even if we're terrified, we'll fake it until we make it.  This is a really difficult season, but it will not last forever.  

For now, we need to figure out what is going on and be grateful that I still have phenomenal benefits through ExxonMobil. And so for the next eight hours, we'd be at the Emergency Room unraveling the details of what occurred and creating an extensive medical tab.

After a full day of waiting ... vitals checking ... IV line ... pain medication ... CT scans ... X-Rays ... and a referral to a pediatric neurologist, Elizabeth's memory started to come back and the awesome Emergency Room doctor formulated a theory that this was a totally freak accident.  

Elizabeth was in her AP Environmental Science class and the teacher was talking about soil and groundwater contamination.  Elizabeth, being the daughter of two scientists that have built their careers around soil and groundwater contamination - got so excited that she accidentally cracked her knee against a drawer at her table.  The pain was so intense, that it literally knocked her out.  She remembered hitting her knee, and seeing stars while thinking "Wow, that's kind of weird! I think I need to put my head down...." before waking up in the nurse's office.  

What she doesn't remember is fainting, pitching out of her chair, smashing her face on the ground which caused a concussion and seizure.  She also doesn't remember twisting her ankle so badly on the way down that it fractured.  She didn't remember the amazing EMT that works on the school staff who was by her side within two minutes of the incident and the room full of students, who all immediately stood up and graciously departed the room to protect her privacy.  She didn't remember how she got to the nurse's office, or her brother running in to check on her, and answer questions regarding how she arrived at school that day.  She vaguely, although fondly, remembers Carolyn showing up and rubbing her shoulder but didn't realize it was her sister.  She passed out a few more times, before I arrived and took her directly to the the UVM Medical Center. 

In between each of the procedures, phenomenal nurses and the attending doctor would stop by to talk with us and keep us apprised of the results.  They were virtually certain it was a fluke situation. But we'd need to follow-up with neurology and have an EEG performed, in order to confirm that there was no underlying issue that had yet to be identified. 

The best part of the day is that at the end of the day, my heart was so tender with gratitude: all of my chicks were safely back in the nest,  the school and hospital staff were extremely competent, kind, and compassionate; I tapped an inner strength to help me summit another hill on the roller coaster,  we still have excellent benefit coverage, the job interview was deferred until a later time when I am more fully prepared. And Elizabeth and I arrived home just in time to witness a spectacular sunset over the Adirondacks... 

And spy the movers carrying in her beloved bed.  

By way of an update, the EEG this past week, thankfully, was normal.

I'm convinced that the heart is never quite so tender and grateful as when you recognize the gifts in your life, count your blessings, and really grasp just how quickly things can change.  

Breathe deeply.  Keep your faith. Pray for continued strength.  Put one foot in front of the other.  Smile. And as much as possible, try to laugh.  

Seriously, you got so excited about groundwater contamination that you knocked yourself out? 

We just might have another hydrogeologist on our hands.  

what is a home?

We put an offer in on a house this past weekend. 

It was a rather stress inducing process in and of itself, because the inventory is so slim around here, when things come on the market, they're typically snatched up fast, and way over the asking price.  Surprisingly, this particular house had been on the market for a few weeks and needed some work.  Charlie loved it, and embraced the funkiness. I was appalled at the cost and amount of work needed to get it to a condition that would justify the sales price.  

But, we have been feeling so anxious to get in to our own place, that I just closed my eyes and jumped on it.  I've had this terrible gnawing on my heart that the clock is ticking fast with these kids at home before they launch.  More than just about anything, I want them to feel the security of a home, their home, that they can decorate and live in and not feel like they're in some temporary grimy rental.  These days are so incredibly precious and fleeting to me: in less than two years, the triplets will graduate from high school and potentially be moving out to college.  

HOLD ME! 

Not to mention, how lovely would it be to be in our own Vermont home by the holidays?! We potentially only have two more Halloweens, Thanksgivings and Christmases with 3/4 of our children living under our roof full-time:  I want to bring out our decorations and do these holidays well.  I have memory expectations and visions of what this time is supposed to look like ... and EVERY MOMENT COUNTS.  And yet - this situation we are in is so counter to those expectations and visions. 

I'd actually thought when we moved from California to Virginia - that would be our forever home. It was so difficult for us to move to Texas, but at that point - I didn't feel like we had many options. On the upside, Henry was only in second grade, the triplets in fifth, so they had plenty of time to connect with new friends they'd hopefully have for life.  So we set about making the Texas home as homey as we could.  We spent a small fortune renovating it: new kitchen and floors - air conditioning units, furnaces; landscaping, upgrades to the pool and jacuzzi; room expansions and lots of painting. The house really was lovely. But we quickly came to realize that the area we were living was so transient. Friends came and went - and while they did make connections, they weren't deep enough to convince any of us: the kids most of all, to return to Texas this summer. 

As I wrote about previously, the worst thing that could have ever happened to me in my career at ExxonMobil, happened when I received the NSI rank.  One of the worst things that I thought could have ever happened to my children at this point in their young lives, was to be ripped from their lovely home and friends and community and be plopped in to a totally new environment, in a rental house.   

But here we are, and remarkably, the sun is still shining. (Well, actually, it's not shining today. It turns out the weather is often pretty gray in Vermont.)  The point is - the worst things that I thought to ever happen, are giving way to some pretty good things and I'm in constant awe of our children.  Even from a grimy temporary rental where they're still in sleeping bags after 17 long weeks, the kids are the ones that are encouraging and inspiring me - every day - that this was the right thing to do.  

(You might be surprised, I've had a few second thoughts.) 

So, we put the offer in on Sunday morning, and almost immediately, I was filled with regret which kept me up half the night, praying that they wouldn't accept it.  Not only do we not have jobs yet (eh, minor detail!) the house is big and needs work.  After living in a camper and tent for 12 weeks, it's extremely convicting just how little we actually need to live.  Moreover, since 4/6 of our family will likely be moving out of the house within the next 5-10 years, I see no reason to go buy another big house like the one we just had.  When we sold our 6-bedroom, 6-bathroom Texas house, we conveyed a lot of furniture - and all of the televisions (4!) - with the sale.   We also donated at least 50% of our things to charity because we realized we do not need them and they just weigh us down.

These circumstances - this complete flip of our lives - is giving us such an incredible opportunity to take an inventory of everything from our material possessions, to where our energies and resources are spent, and wisely recalibrate.   

In the words of Thoreau: Simplify. Simplify. 

When we'd walked through the house last week, I immediately recognized that the family that lived there had young children.  Toys were everywhere. Crayon scribbles on the wall. Little shoes and coats.  My heart was tender remembering those days - it seems like only yesterday. 

The offer that we put in on Sunday, expired yesterday which is good for me, because it reaffirmed that I really don't want to rush in to a purchase, and would rather take our time to get the right house. (And, confirm we can handle a Vermont winter!)  Their realtor has since been communicating with our realtor that communication has been extremely difficult because the couple that lives in the house, are going through a divorce.  While I know that there are circumstances in every situation, and sometimes divorce really is the right answer, it can be devastating and my thoughts are with the entire family.  

While it's none of our business, in human fashion, Charlie and I surmised what could possibly be happening that led to the demise of the relationship.  Parenting little people can be extremely taxing on a marriage. Add a big house that requires a lot of work, and the financial implications can be exhaustingly stressful. People likely have needs, or expectations that aren't fulfilled, and very soon - frustration, resentment and bitterness set in.  Communication falters and things can unravel pretty quickly - a small split leads to a gaping chasm.   

My mind then shifted to our own circumstances.  

While the house that we're in right now isn't quite the vision that I had, the family that lives beneath this roof is everything and more than I could have ever imagined and I feel completely overwhelmed with gratitude.  So long as we have our health - and each other - we have everything that we could ever possibly need.  Charlie and I have been through some extremely difficult and trying times in our 30 year relationship, but there's no one I'd rather have by my side, in the trenches - praying - crying - sampling craft brew - and laughing with. Thank goodness, mostly laughing.   

As I told our realtor, Claire, that is exactly how we've managed the past several months.  

When I'm with my husband and our children, regardless of where we are ... I'm at home.  And more than any kind of brick and mortar memories, these feelings of love, good food, blessed abundance, and laughter, are what I hope our children will tuck away in their hearts and carry with them throughout their own lives.   

The house will come with time, of that I am certain.  

As for now, we are so excited that the moving truck is supposed to arrive from Texas, tomorrow.  It will be very nice to move off the floor and in to an actual bed, but the thing that I'm most looking forward to receiving is our table.  While we've certainly made our camping gear work - I cannot wait to sit at an actual table with my family again!  Ah, to think of the things we once took for granted.  

#Perspective 

by way of an update

Charlie never reads my blog, but he read it last night before we went to sleep and he exclaimed, "JEN, that post [that I published yesterday] is so sad and depressing.  Good Lord, I had no idea you felt that way!"  

I just looked at him.  

You had no idea? 

So I asked, "Do you not hear the words coming out of my mouth when I talk? Did you not sense all of my anxiety, or hear me saying over - and over - and over again how overwhelmed I felt; that something was broken inside and that eventually something had to give? Did you not hear my pleas for the past couple of years that I wanted off the crazy train - wanted to do something different - needed to get out of that psychotic over-achiever environment with our kids?" 

He laughed and said, "Yeah, but I didn't know you were serious.  Geez woman. You say a lot of things."

Ah, yes.  I do say a lot of things.  But even though Charlie didn't hear me ....

GOD DID AND NOW WE'RE IN VERMONT, HALLELUJAH!

And for a significantly less depressing update, which makes me feel that ALL of the trials and tribulations we've endured over the past few years, and especially the past three months, has not been in vain: despite the horrific year that Carolyn had last year in math, and failing her summer school class over the summer .... today her mid-semester grades came out and she has straight A's (and one B). 

In fact, all four of the kids are crushing it in school. 

Even though she didn't pass her summer school class - it turns out that in Vermont, it doesn't matter.  Not one iota.  The entire academic philosophy at their high school - which is ranked #1 in the state and even surpasses their high school in Texas, is so refreshingly different.  Her counselors are not at all plussed about her grade in geometry and are confident that she will not only graduate on time, but have the option of college: if she so chooses.  High school isn't life or death here.  Kids aren't measured on how many AP classes they are taking - but how well rounded and kind they are.  

And this just feels right. 

When we lived in Fairfax, Virginia, we read story after story about teenagers that were so stressed out at school and in life expectations, that they opted to end their young lives by laying on the tracks of the Metro. Soon after we moved to Texas, I read the story of a young woman who had committed suicide because she was afraid she wouldn't graduate in the top 10% of her class - and miss the opportunity to attend UT (The University of Texas).   

At some cellular level, I think I've known that we had to get away from those big city environments, with the incredible stress of win-win-win ... perform-perform-perform that not only permeates the adults and drives them to the brink of exhaustion - but infiltrates the kids, too.  While it's great to see kids succeed, the pressure is just too intense.  My heart absolutely breaks at the thought of it, and the kids who would leave suicide notes confessing that if this is how difficult life is as a teenager - they don't want to live to be an adult.  Yes, something is broken in our society, indeed. 

Aside from academics, Carolyn is thriving in this environment. Despite being an incredible introvert, she decided that she was going to turn a new leaf in her new school.  Much to our amazement, she opted to run for a position on student council. And that is how, the second week of school she stood up in front of a room full of people she didn't know - let them know how she was going to bring her leadership skills from scouting to the school - and asked that they please consider voting for her.  

They did. 

And, she won. 

The second week of school, she scored a coveted spot on student council.  And the fourth week of school, she landed a spot in the school play.  This past week, she was out rowing with an outstanding coach, and collegiate rower, who has connections all over the globe and wants to work with Carolyn to form a youth program in northern Vermont: for fun!   

OUR GIRL!!! 

To see her (and her siblings!) THRIVING here makes everything worthwhile. 

Because in my book, that's what it's all about.   

the Maine point: ask and ye shall receive (but you better be absolutely sure you know what you're asking for!)

We had been on the road for five weeks, and were in Ogunquit, Maine.  

 

 

 

The plan was that evening, we would meet with two of my colleagues from work for dinner, at one of their homes, in York.  The next day, we would make the final leg of our travels north, and drive to Acadia National Park before looping back through New Hampshire and Vermont on the way back to Texas.  

 

Acadia had long been on our bucket list to visit.  The previous summer, we had made it to the tip-top northwestern corner of the country to visit Olympic National Park.  When we had pulled our plans together for the summer of 2021, making our way to the tip-top northeastern corner of the country to visit Acadia National Park was a must-do.  

 

It was a Sunday morning and we only had one day to explore the quaint little seaside town.  But Carolyn had not passed her second semester of math in 10th grade, and was in an online summer school class - begrudgingly completing her assignments and taking tests on material that was extremely difficult for her to comprehend. She'd had a miserable time with math the second semester in online school; taking it again, online, during summer school was even worse. The material seemed to be even more difficult to grasp the second time around, and while everyone else was enjoying vacation days - Carolyn had to work on her math.  It was the perfect concoction for teenage misery. 

On this particular day, my objective was to go visit the town, but Carolyn needed to get caught up on several assignments that she had neglected to turn in, because she struggled with how to do them (vicious cycle) and were late.  She also needed to retake a few tests for a higher grade - and the clock was ticking.  Thump, thump, thump Marissa Tomei, a la "My Cousin Vinny" style ticking. 

If she didn't complete the class with a passing grade within the next ten days, she would fail it again and would be required to take it a third time, during her junior year ... in addition to the math that she would be taking in 11th grade.  Per the guidance counselor, if she planned to graduate on time - she had to do it this way. Math was never my strong suit in high school, so I could totally relate to her despair and hopelessness,  and yet, I was frustrated. She needed more perseverance, I needed more patience.  

Neither was happening. 

Stepping back and looking at the situation, I see that it was a bad parenting decision putting her in an online summer school. She should have been enrolled for the in-person session, but that class would have interfered with the family's summer plans since it spanned the time that we would be gone on the trip.  I was annoyed, bordering resentful it had gotten to this point. 

 

On closer inspection, I wasn't resentful just at Carolyn for failing math, but more so at myself that I wasn't a better parent to support her throughout the year of online schooling, and now with summer school.  Why couldn't I go help my one lost sheep?  

 

Where was my mercy?

 

That day in Ogunquit, Charlie being the consistently more patient parent than me, decided that he would remain in the camper with Carolyn and work on math all day, while I took the other kids in to town for sight seeing and a lobster lunch.   It was such a beautiful day, the sun was shining - the birds were chirping - and I was cloaked in anger because this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, damn it.  ARGH!

Several hours later, we returned, and Charlie and Carolyn had wrapped up two lessons on math. There were still five more to do.  And then the retest. And then the cumulative final.  But they were done for the day, and wanted to ride their bikes in to town with the family.  Logical choice when you are a logical person. 

But I didn't want to go.  

 

Instead of embracing the opportunity to enjoy the day and go for a bike ride with my family in a beautiful town, I was simmering that more math wasn't finished.  This class would continue to hang over our heads and more days of truncating our summer vacation activities and splitting the family up would happen.  To add insult to injury, I likely wasted hundreds of dollars on a summer school class that wouldn't count.  Next year, we would endure more stress as Carolyn (and by extension, me and Charlie) would have to double up in math.   There would be costly tutors and more hammering to do work she didn't want to do, I was sure of it.

 

Pending how math the junior year goes, there's a very strong potential that she would have a delay in graduation for lack of credits.  The thousands of highly motivated and better parentally-encouraged kids in The Woodlands were surpassing her in the class ranking.  The distinct possibility was starting to emerge that she'll never go to college.  Never have the ability to support herself.  Live at home forever.  Charlie and I will both die of equilateral trianglitis and who will help Carolyn? 

Down and down trapped in a tangled web of despair I shall go. 

 

Not even for a moment did I contemplate how incredible of a young woman she is, how kind - and gentle - and compassionate.  How absolutely BRILLIANT her mind is, when it is positively engaged, interested, and encouraged. Nor did I recall the fact that some kids (both of her parents, in fact) were late bloomers in school - neither Charlie nor I got any traction with particularly good grades until college. Nonetheless, I subjected myself to all kinds of mothering guilt and hindsight torment because of the problems my 16-year old was having in one class.  

 

ONE CLASS.   

 

It's amazing how stress can make you lose all perspective.

 

 

And yet, I was mad. Spitting mad. But as mad as I was at all of those potential outcomes, I knew in my heart that I was the most mad at myself that I was not being more patient with my teenage daughter who needed me to reassure her, and give her the tools - time - opportunities - that she required to be successful.  I knew better and yet could not stop myself. 

Alas, on that day in Ogunquit, I kept beating myself up with thoughts including:  Why did I ever go back to work? Surely she'd be a better mathematician if I devoted more time to helping her learn her numbers and sort blocks and was home everyday waiting when she got off the bus to help her navigate her homework and schedule.  Why didn't I let the children finish Montessori? Surely she would have had more academic prowess if I'd just kept her in the program until Kindergarten.   Why did we home school her in eighth grade? That was a colossal fail.  Charlie was too distracted and laid back and I let work rule my life. Why did I sign her up for online summer school?  Why - why - why? 

There was no denying it: my bad choices had hijacked her life and I'd never forgive myself for it. 

Charlie and the kids rode in to town and I stayed behind, tidying up the mess, (why is there always a hot mess??) and stewing in my unfulfilled expectations and mothering failures. 

That evening, we went to my friend's house. We put on our happy faces. We had dinner. We came back. The next morning, my friends came to visit us and see Quarantinny before we made our way north.  When I said goodbye, I hugged them and told my one friend who was visiting from Texas, I'd see her in August, when we were all back home.  The kids started school on the 11th. We'd be home by the 5th.

Then we hitched up and drove north to Acadia National Park. 

 

What was supposed to be a wonderful drive - with us blissfully looking out the window at the passing northeast Atlantic landscape - was punctuated with teenagers bickering.  Get your feet off my seat. Don't touch my headphones.  Stop looking at me.  Nobody wants to watch that stupid movie, duh.  Why are you breathing so loud?  I'm trying to meditate and just let it all pass like the rising and falling waves on a beach, but like a volcano, I can feel the magma rising. Bubbling to the top and hot.   

In between my deep relaxation techniques (none of which were clearly working very well), I'm shooting glances back to Carolyn, telling her to work on her math. What are you working on, now?  How many questions have you finished? Do you understand it?    

The opposite of helpful - I KNOW. 

But ... what's the alternative at this point?!

We stopped for lunch at Red's Eats.  A MUST-STOP everyone told us, on the way north. They have the best lobster rolls in the entire state of Maine and by extension, obviously - the universe.   

Since Charlie and Carolyn had missed lobster the day prior, and I could eat lobster for the rest of my life - we stopped.  The line went up the block and around the building. Also, they only took cash, and the nearest ATM was nearly a mile away.  Do we sacrifice the parking spot that we'd just found to drive to the bank, or do we walk? 

William and Henry had just gotten in to an altercation, which was very rare for the boys who are typically great friends, but I suspected had something to do with close quarters and the awesome vibe I was throwing off.  (Mother guilt for the win - again!)  Much to their chagrin, I nominated the boys to walk with me to the bank.  WHY ME? WHY MUST I GO? Why don't you bring the girls?  

Bicker. Bicker. Bicker.  

My decision that the boys would be the ones to come with me, was only solidified the more they pushed back. And so it is, Charlie stayed behind with the girls and the dog in line - and I ventured off with my two glowering boys in tow.   We meandered through the streets of town.  We found the ATM.  We meandered all the way back.  By that point, we'd had a chance to talk about the importance of family ties and brotherhood, friends come and go - but siblings are forever.  The boys made amends and were amicable surely for my sake.

  

By the time we returned, an hour later, the line had barely moved.  We were told it could be another 2-3 hours to place an order.  We eyed the other lobster shack on the opposite side of the road, and split up. Whomever got to the front first would order.  We had another four hours of driving before us and despite missing out on the "Best thing in Maine!" we didn't have all day to wait.   

 

After another 90 minutes, the line on the opposite side of the street got to place the order first.  After shelling out over $400 for lunch, and feeling extremely frustrated that: 

1) We waited that long for a lobster roll that we could literally get ANYWHERE in Maine; 

2) We were sucked in to the tourist trap thinking this was something we must do (but then didn't even actually do because we didn't want to wait all day!) 

3) We spent an exorbitant amount of money for something we could make ourselves, for a FRACTION of the cost. 

 

After a disappointing lunch, we hit the road again. Driving past scores and scores of lobster shacks with NO lines which I called out each time we passed.  THERE'S ANOTHER ONE.  YAY EVERYONE LOOK!  So much fun!  What a wonderful family vacation with everyone bickering and mom lamenting about the money she spent on overpriced lobster rolls taking breaks only to yell at Gracie to practice her Geometry!  Enabling the childproof features, I locked the doors for fear that the kids would throw themselves out of the moving car.  Or, open the door and push me out.

We drove for several more hours, and needed to make a stop at the grocery store for some critical items. It was getting dark so I wanted to run in and out, quickly.  A couple years ago, all four kids would have jumped at the chance to help me shop - especially if I promised I'd buy them something.  This year, despite the lure of a treat - they wanted to stay in the car.  "Wait, where are you going to be mom?  In the store? OK, we'll stay here. But if you're going to be here - sure, we'll go in the store! Let's shop!" 

 

I dragged along William, that understandably was a bit resistant in that moment to help his mother, who by all accounts, was on the verge of going completely OFF the rails.  I told him in a commandeering tone that we would divide and conquer so we could get out of the store and to the campsite and set up in the remaining daylight.  He was annoyed and probably scared.  

 

You might not believe it, but I was even more so.  Not just because the kids were making my head and heart hurt with the bickering (what if I just collapsed from an aneurysm?) - but because the store was dismally stocked.  The one thing they had in surplus were packs of rolls for $0.50 that we'd just had our $80 lobster roll sandwiches on. ARGH!

 

It looked like there had been a run and shelves were disorganized and barren.   We were standing in the baking aisle. I was looking for something, walnuts, maybe - I can't recall exactly, but I know that they were a critical ingredient to something I was preparing.  High and low we searched, up and down the aisle, and WE COULD NOT FIND THE NUTS.

Finally, I asked William to go ask for help because time is of the essence.   He rolled his eyes, sighed deeply, and slunked off.  A few minutes later, he returned, with a tone in his voice that any parent of teenagers would immediately recognize and recoil at. When you're teetering on the brink, it was even worse to hear, "Mom. There is no one to help and even if there was, they probably don't know where the nuts are - so let's just leave. Right now. OK? Let's go. This is such a waste of time."  

Instead of taking a deep breath, and letting the moment pass, a blob of magma spewed out and I snapped at him,  "Why must you be such an ass?"

We've never really talked to our kids like that and William looked shocked - and hurt.  Every siren and alarm in my mothering body was going off,  "WOOP! WOOP! Cap the flow! Cap the flow!" but I ignored the alarms and more lava spewed out. "You kids can be so useless. Heaven forbid I ask you for ANY help. I'll find them, myself."  

  

You know it's bad when the awful words keep spilling out and you don't even try to stop them. 

"You just keep standing there and do nothing. OKAY?"  

 

Finding a clerk, I asked where I could find the critical ingredient. They led me to them, I picked up the bag - glared at my son - and checked out at the front. Shaking off any chivalrous offers of help from him I carried all the bags to the car. Without the cart they dangled from my arms turning my limbs purple and making my hands go numb ... but as a world-champion martyr, I welcomed the pain. We drove to the camp, we set up, and by the time I went to bed - I'd spoken no more than 10 words, slaying my family with my agitated silence. 

 

Why was I angry again?  I couldn't exactly remember, but even though people might know they should STOP when they're lost in the wild, how often it happens that they just keep wandering in, deeper and deeper until they veer off a cliff and perish.  These woods were so deep and dark and I had no idea which way was up, or how to get out.

 

Early the next morning, I had conference calls.  Every week day while we're traveling I have conference calls; usually from 6 or 7 AM until at least noon.  On this particular day, I was planning to work a half day so that we could go for a bike ride around the park.  But things that were supposed to only take me a few hours - wound up taking more time, and then more work activities came in that had a quick-turn around, so my time with the family was pushed back more.  

 

The family pressure was mounting - I felt guilty for being such a crank with them - and the work pressure was also mounting that even though I was getting every thing done that I needed to do (and then some) I wanted to diffuse any potential perception that I was not productive or was wasting time.  In the strive for perfection, I worked myself to the brink of exhaustion - constantly.

Charlie was trying to coordinate our bike riding schedule and at some point, around 10:00 AM, the plug on the volcano blew and I lost my ever living mind.  Quarantinny shaked with my rage; kids ran out of the camper and to the other side of the campground. Every bit of magma came out of the chamber.  If it was a true volcanic eruption, it would have been plinian. 

Carolyn's struggles with math.  Elizabeth's running coach that was laying on intense heat that she needed to be back in Texas that week, if she wanted to race with the varsity team.  William's snarkiness. Henry's sneakiness. Too much screen time. Too many distractions and busyness.  I'm supposed to be happy but am an angry martyr.  Work pressures. Juggling all these critical life priorities and trying to bring my best self to everything I do for ExxonMobil.  

 

Too fast that time is going by, like rapid fire - swirling past - kids will be licensed soon, we need to get another car or two. I need to work even harder to prove my value and worth, and keep my job, thereby making as much money as possible so that I can pay for the new cars - and college - and a new master bathroom - and all the things that signal and deliver (???) a successful life, while ensuring Charlie and I are secure in our retirement.  

 

Fear.  Fear.  Fear.   

 

 

 IT WAS ALL FEAR.   

 

Fear that I wasn't good enough on any front.  Fear that I was failing everyone, myself most of all.  Fear that we wouldn't have enough money for all the things we wanted to do or needed to do.  Fear that the kids are all growing up and will be gone soon and why must life go so fast, and why can't I just relax and enjoy this moment?  Why am I holding on to everything so tightly?

What the hell is wrong with me?! 

Deep in the woods I was so lost.  Regret looking back, anxiety looking forward, teetering on the edge. 

 

Like a blown out caldera, my energy was gone and I was left feeling completely depleted and deformed. I tried apologizing, but couldn't comprehend what I was apologizing for - so I could only say, "I'm sorry I'm such a nightmare. I feel so broken and I don't know how to fix it.  I honestly don't understand what is wrong with me it's like I'm lost in the wild and should stop and be rescued - but keep going in deeper and deeper.  Please have patience with me, I'm trying to re-orient my map."   My beautiful family embraced me in tight hugs and reassured me that it was okay - they forgave me.  I wept.

 

Charlie and William packed up the bicycles and we went for a ride around the breathtakingly beautiful Schoodic Peninsula.  I was still feeling depleted, and yet - I could sense that there was still a latent anger.  The slightest thing could trip me off, again.   My simmering rage was terrifyingly disturbing.

 As I pedaled, I prayed to God like I haven't prayed since I asked to be a mom. 

"Dear God.  PLEASE HELP ME.  Please give me a sign. Please free up my life and let me be the best person, wife and mother I can be.  Please grant me the wisdom to recognize an opportunity when it comes and please grant me the courage to take it.  Please remove the burdens so that I can fully love these people that you have blessed me with, as best as I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can." 

Less than a week later, I received the call from ExxonMobil that I was ranked in the "NSI: Need Significant Improvement" category.  Despite all the incredibly hard work, excellent deliverables, and soul-wrenching sacrifices I'd made over the past year, it happened.   The worst thing that could have ever happened in my career at ExxonMobil and with NO forewarning.  Just a few months earlier, my managers had told me that I was a rock star and bringing awesome value to the corporation.  And now this which made absolutely no sense?  Although it wasn't a termination - it was the closest thing and it was such a crushing blow to my ego and spirit because from my perspective - it wasn't just about my performance at work.    

 

It was about my performance in life. 

 

I'd later hear that it was a numbers game. They had to put someone in the lowest rank. They didn't think I'd leave; at 50 with four kids I was a low flight risk.  I really was a highly valued resource.   

 

But on that morning, when I closed my eyes to digest what was being said to me by my managers,  the voice that I heard was overwhelmingly, powerfully strong and I knew to the core of my being that there was no mistaking it.   

 

Hey there Jen!  It's ME!  Remember how you asked for help?  You wanted a sign? 

 

BOOM.  HERE'S YOUR SIGN.

 

 

Turns out that despite all that FEAR baggage I'd packed and had been dragging around with me, somewhere hidden deep in that baggage was the tiniest mustard seed of faith.  And that tiniest seed of faith is exactly what I needed to nurture, so that it could grow and completely overtake my existence. 

 

Thankfully, it took root pretty fast and gave me the courage I needed to realize I had been on the wrong train and needed to get off it, immediately. Not only did I need to resign from ExxonMobil and sell our Texas house, but we needed to get our entire family to a different environment - this environment. 

 

My mental / emotional / spiritual state had become so unrecognizable it was frightening. The crazy, overworked, stressed out, fear-gripped life that I have been living, and dragging my beautiful family along on, required a complete overhaul.   

Starting Now.

where eagles soar

Earlier this week, Elizabeth successfully completed her Eagle Board of Review, and just like that ... we had two Eagle Scouts in the house.  

Because people who do not know us have felt compelled to comment on the lack of 21 merit badges on her sash [on Facebook!], it's important to note that she is awaiting at least 10 badges that were received over the past few months, but have not yet been shipped up from Texas. Perhaps I'm a bit hypersensitive to it, but over the past two and a half years, I have received a lot of "thinly veiled criticism" about girls in the "boy" scouting program.  Having been a Girl Scout Leader for several years, and a BSA Scoutmaster for several years ... my opinion is that no youth program out there prepares the future leaders of tomorrow for tomorrow, like the BSA program. 

And in case there is any doubt, or reservation regarding the incredible VALUE of girls in scouting:   

When the opportunity presented itself in the spring of 2019 for girls to join BSA (Boy Scouts of America), Elizabeth is the one who really pushed our family, and her sister, to pursue it.  And ultimately, convinced me - when no one else stepped up - to be the Scoutmaster. 

She eagerly signed up as a founding member of the first girls-only troop in our area, and started recruiting friends from school and around the neighborhood, so that there would be enough people for a charter.  She then worked tirelessly, to not only get herself through the rigorous rank requirements, but developed plans to help support the girls in the troop through the program, too.  

She would do her absolute best to be at every meeting. 

Every campout.  

Every backpacking trip. 

Every merit badge class.  

Every service opportunity.  

Every remote conference. 

Every cooking competition. 

  

Every boating event. 

Every dance off. 

Every plane ride.

In her full uniform from head to toe (including scout socks!), she served as an awesome example for not only her own troop - but her brothers' troop, too.

As the first elected Senior Patrol Leader, she worked extremely hard to make everyone feel welcome, and encouraged others to do the same. Even now, as we've moved to an entirely new state - she is using the skills that she has learned in scouting, to connect and serve others: like runners who hurt themselves during races, or pass out from heat exhaustion.  

While scout troops around the world were losing members because of the pandemic, with Liz's enthusiasm and support - and awesome leadership skills (refined at ILST and NYLT) - we watched the headcount of our girls troop steadily grow from 3 to 27 within less than two years. 

During this time, she recognized that she's a pretty good aim.  While we were at the Philmont Family Camp two summers ago, she came back to the tent to let me know that for her birthday she wanted a 12-gauge shotgun.  Wait, what?! Turns out she was able to consistently shoot 24/25 clay pigeon targets, surpassing young and old, alike. 

And while we were at the BSA high adventure camp, Sea Base, this past Spring Break - she was elected Crew Captain of the 20-person co-ed charter, and had the helm of a 75-foot schooner for much of the week, as we sailed around the Florida Keys. 

 

Every single weekend for the past year, she met with younger scouts from the troop and would "mentor" them on rank requirements: Knot tying, map and compass, lashing, fire starting, first aid, camping, cooking. She could do it all.  

More than once, we had girls to our house, and Liz would be in the pool with them, teaching them how to swim so that they could pass the swim test and join us on water outings. She's taught at least two young women the critical skills of swimming; something they will likely thank her for - for the rest of their lives.  She also worked tirelessly and compassionately as a Den Chief, working with the little cub scouts, and encouraging the younger girls to remain involved with the program. 

This past spring, our girls troop participated in its first district-wide Camporee.  Camporee last year had been canceled because of COVID, so this was the first opportunity the girls had the opportunity to demonstrate their skills and compete against boy troops from the area.  In the end, they wound up taking the top awards, besting more than 40 local troops, including best second year patrol; best third year patrol; best overall patrol, and the coveted HONOR troop.  

It was AWESOME!  

One of the proudest moments of my life was to see our girls, who had worked so hard individually - and together as a troop, totally sweep this competition.  And since it was a predominantly quantitative event, there was no mistake that these awards were justifiably earned and not just "given" to the girls. 

A few weeks later, over the course of two days, Elizabeth recruited 60 people to come help her complete her Eagle Scout project, a 150-foot trail improvement in a nature preserve near our neighborhood in Texas.   

And while we were on our six-week ... turned 12-week camping trip this summer ... she wrote up her final report, and jumped through the countless hoops to get all of the approvals in place that were required for her Eagle Scout rank.  

While she was not in the inaugural class of 1,000 awesome female Eagle Scouts that was held in February 2021; she is in the inaugural "year" of female Eagle Scouts in the United States and is the first female Eagle Scout in her Texas troop and district.  Moreover, if she was registered in Vermont - she would have been the first female Eagle Scout awarded in the Green Mountain State. 

Alas, that honor will likely go to her sister, Carolyn, who is working hard to have her Eagle Scout finished by the end of the year.  

Moreover, I would argue that although our boys have been in scouting since they were six-years-old, if not for Elizabeth's passion - energy - and her motivation to advance, the rest of our family wouldn't have worked so hard to keep up.  I'm convinced that William's ability to wrap up his Eagle Scout rank last month, is largely due to his sister - hot on his heels.  The diversity and inclusion value that girls bring to the scouting program is that they make it - and every single person in it - BETTER.  

And THAT is a pretty darn good thing. 

For as fantastic as the BSA program is to help grow and develop the next generation of servant leaders with strong morale characters, the best part is that the program is a lot of fun. 

Yep, our whole family is very involved with the program... hook line and sinker and will likely continue to remain involved, even now that we are in Vermont.  (Ollie, too!)  

But for now, we could not be more proud of our newest Eagle Scout!

 

Can girls do it?  

YES WE CAN!