They know me so well!

If you've got your sense of humor, you stand a good chance of keeping your health. I firmly believe this. And so, evidently, do my older children ...

This was one of my favorite gifts this Christmas. Not only because we desperately need magnets that don't fall off if you swing the refrigerator door too enthusiastically, but because it made me laugh. The last seven or eight weeks have been mentally hectic, butt-puckeringly scary, and in general, really, really hard.

Not too hard for God, which is great, but definitely too hard for me. And the kids haven't ever actually seen me admit that there's something I'm not sure I can do. But they have now. And they've stepped up. I mean, they're still kids, and when you're a kid, offering to share your coin jar to help with groceries, or volunteering to share your fuzzy blanket seems a lot more satisfying than, say, clearing your spot after dinner, or doing the chores without being prompted, or maybe even just not nattering at your siblings for hours on end so that Mom can work. So, they haven't really felt that my requests were sane, or truly helpful, but they've shrugged and exchanged eye rolling glances, then stepped up and tried to contribute to the sense of overall peace and productivity that we needed in the house. So that's been pretty fantastic.

And no, I have not taken to drinking heavily. But I've joked about it. And John knew just what would make me laugh out loud. I'm so glad he ran with it.

Be encouraged!

~ Dy

The Nutcracker

Well, THIS was exciting. A year ago, Jacob sat in the farthest row of the highest balcony at the Von Braun Center and watched, mesmerized, as The Nutcracker played out before us. He leaned forward, spellbound, the entire performance, but particularly watching the men's parts - the Nutcracker Prince, the Rat King, the dolls. He was captivated by the power and strength of the dancers. When he asked if he could do that, we had no idea that this December would find him backstage, preparing for his own parts.

All week, he kept whispering at random, "This is what started it all. And I'm here." He was in a bit of a dream world.

He gave his all to every role. As a Party Teen, he was so exuberant and festive. He was so, so great with the little ones on stage. He was a delight to watch.

As a gypsy, he was beautiful and vibrant. I got to watch from the wings one night when he danced that part, and the look on his face as he landed in the final position ... I will carry that image with me to my grave. I've never seen him look so happy, so at home (and this is a kid who is at home in most any setting, so that's saying something).

As half of the dragon, he was entertaining and delightful.

But most of all, he was kind, considerate, and engaged. He even goofed around with me a little bit!

The atmosphere backstage of a Huntsville Ballet Company production is one of the most professional, courteous, and team-driven endeavors I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. (I got to help, too, which was fabulous. Everyone should help backstage at least once, just to appreciate what goes into making the magic happen when the curtain goes up.) I could not have been more proud of him, or more pleased with where he is. They're a good fit, and I'm thankful for that.

For all the things we wish we could go back and do differently, or do better, I really feel like we've hit the sweet spot in encouraging them to pursue excellence, and to work hard at what they love. It's one thing to dream, but it's another to put your effort and hard work into achieving it. That's huge, and I am so thankful that he's doing just that.

Be encouraged!

Dy

On Moving. Again.

So, while John and I were basking in the dry, cool mountain air of New Mexico this past July, Z was at home, clearly panicking at the thought of living here forever. Possibly without me. (The fear of me dying is kind of a constant with him. It was always there, but got markedly worse with the cancer. Single parenting for a month rather exacerbated the whole thing. Understandable.)

So he went off plan and applied for a slew of jobs in New Mexico that month. (The deal has always been Colorado, or we stay here.) When I got back into signal range and read the job postings he'd forwarded to me, I started praying ...

"Lord, please not Alamogordo." (I have NOTHING against Alamogordo, for the record. It's a vibrant, neat little town with a strong Classical education community, and a ballet company. It could be a great place to live. But I have always maintained that if he worked in Alamogordo, I wanted to live in High Rolls or Cloudcroft, both of which just wash my mountain-loving soul in cool air and pine trees. I haven't had cool air and pine trees since 2003. But that would put us right back to living in the country and having to drive into town every. single. day. That thought kind of made me cry. Actually, it totally made me queasy.)

That job fell through. Thank you, Lord!

"Lord, Socorro? Really? This needs to be discussed?" (I've never lived in Socorro, and I'm sure we could make it work. NM Tech is there, and it's fantastic. It's not too far from the Bosque. There's a lot to commend it. But, again with the driving to get the kids to the things they do. And there are no mountains there to soothe the process. Sorry, Socorro, but I was actively praying against that one.)

That job fell through.

"Albuquerque? Well, Lord, you know I'd love it. And you know the kids would love it. We both know Z probably isn't going to love it. He might grow to like it ... I don't know. But, if it's gotta happen, then it's gotta happen. Your call." (It's ALWAYS His call. I know this. But he says to ask for what we want, and I'm taking Him at face value on that.)

So, Albuquerque it is.

We all hate to leave our people here. One of my biggest requests is that we have a home large enough that we can be a destination point for loved ones to come and see the West, stay with us, and allow us to repay the generosity and love they've shared with us.

The older boys may stay. James will, for sure. He's surviving college. He loves his job. He loves our church. He seldom gets lost when he's driving. He'll be 20 this year (oh, gosh, HOW?), so it seems there's not much point for him in uprooting to start over again.

John's measuring his options and seeing what he can see. He's 17. This is a good time to do that.

Jacob would gladly move in with someone from the ballet school to stay here, but since that's not an option, we've given him room to be morose, and then encouragement to embrace what he can about it. He plans to come back, perhaps for his Senior Year, to dance here. I'm okay with leaving that on the table. It'll be here before either of us know it, and who knows what he'll want to do then? But in the meantime, having that on the table gives him hope and frees him up to enjoy dancing in New Mexico without feeling like he's being unfaithful to his beloved HBC. I love his loyal, passionate heart.

Em and Jase are basically holding their breath and not making eye contact. They don't know what to expect. They haven't particularly enjoyed all the change and upheaval to date, and it's not what they would choose, but they're still young enough that if I promise them a good adventure, they'll trust that it's a good adventure. (Jase finds this exciting. I should, however, have chosen a different word for Em - an adventure is the last thing she hopes for. Ever. Oops. Still learning with that one!)

And so, our Alabama adventure appears to be drawing to a close. It's something we've known was coming for the last seven years, but truthfully, it came as a surprise. This is such a wonderful place to live, with so much available, and so many wonderful things in life here. It's hard to imagine another place that has so much to love as North Alabama does. Twelve and a half years of living will do that to a person, though. It's good. It's been good.

And the next chapter of our lives will also be good.

Be encouraged!

Dy