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Our summer's have been marked by two things: coming and going. At the end of school, we pack up bags and desires for good hamburgers and head back "home" to Oklahoma. We live out of suitcases, drink lots of Sonic discounted Happy Hour drinks, spend time with family and friends recounting old memories while making new ones, reflect on what it means to be American and make excuses for eating just one more donut ... one more time. At the end of our time "home", we get that feeling. It's a feeling of upset stomach boarding on excitement and nausea. It's that feeling of saying goodbye again while knowing a new year in our other "home" awaits. It's so weird.

Parker, Libby and I flew home a week early while my Chris finishes up Fahrenheit work. We came home two days ago to our clean apartment and felt awkward in what is our "normal". Things smell different. Food tastes different. We are in that place of limbo. We wait while our brains, hearts and bodies align. Jet lag doesn't help. Neither does no AC in 99 degree heat. However, we know the routine. I voice what we all feel, "We are not going to give into any feeling we may have in the next 48 hours. We are tired. This will all feel normal soon." The girls nod their heads in agreement while looking through glassy eyes that reflect the emotional ill-at-ease. We own our feelings. We just don't pay attention to them right now. These feelings will not hold us captive.

This is our third year of this pilgrimage. We learn something new each time.

This year is different. Transition in the air, we ease into another year projecting hope and standing firm in the knowledge that we are exactly where God has us. The only thing that doesn't change is what God has told us ... and the knowledge that he holds us while "normal" sets back in ... until it's time to get back on a plane.

Learning the routine,
Christina

I love how this picture symbolizes our family right now: steps. Steps can be surefooted. Steps can be made with a pit in our stomach. But, one thing for sure ... steps take us from one place and lead us to another.

Our family is stepping out ... again. This time, four sets of steps will lead us back to Vienna while another set of steps stay here.

Surefooted steps lead my Chris to lead the rest of us back to a new thing with a new sending agency in Vienna: Fahrenheit! Fahrenheit is a mentoring agency, allowing us to use our gifts and talents to do what we love to do. It is birthed out of a dream, I believe in God's heart, to see university students and business people connected with mentors that will live life- intentionally - alongside them. Partners have come alongside Fahrenheit both financially and as mentors. As we step out in the beginning phases of this venture ... we are surefooted.

At the same time, I have discovered that surefooted steps can also bring a pit in the stomach. The pit is not lack of desire to follow the dream. The pit is the willful knowing of what is being given up to follow that dream. Pits have no bottoms. Yet, the pit drives me to cling to God. God brings peace in the pit. The pit is not bigger than the one who carries me through it.

More information on Fahrenheit and this journey to follow. I simply wanted to express this leg of our journey ... the steps ... the pit ... the surefooted. On my own and in my flesh ... this journey would be impossible. The fear of the unknown is so ... unknown I would turn back and settle for normal. However, because the Spirit of God is active, adventurous, calling me to deeper places ... and deeper pits ... I have to step ... into the unknown ... and in the stepping I discover more of God. It's a sacred holiness ... this stepping into the unknown. These steps are taking me ... and my family ... from one place (spiritually) to another. I can't go back ...

Stepping,
christina

I'm still making my list of 1,000 gifts. Gifts that largely go unnoticed to the outsider but find their way in black and white in my little book. This book, this act of writing the gifts, has become one of the single most cathartic, emotional, difficult, joy bringing, transforming acts of quietness I have ever done ... in my life ... my whole 45 years of life. I'm on #190.

One of the entries in my book was a name ... just a name. This name brought me fresh air and it would have been criminal not to write it as gift #154. This name is a stranger to me. He's from Scotland. I love the accent.

A few words spoken with this antique accent from an honest place made such a simple impact:

Don't look back. Move forward.

Right now, I don't have a clue what that means. I think I do a good job of not looking back ... on mistakes, on hurts, on what - ifs, on people. I would also like to think that moving forward is what I do ... I always stay in a perpetual forwardness. However, this Scottish stranger's words' are lingering in the air.

Don't look back. Move forward.

If this works, I hope you can click on the below link. I love American commercials.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQr8bkuPZDs

I love the background music, I'm Only Human, by the popular 80's band Human League. Here are some of the phrases in this 30 second spot that speak to me:

"We are imperfect creatures living in a beautifully imperfect world."
"Sometimes the little things get us, other times the not so little."
"When one of us messes up, someone else comes along to help us out."

Isn't that what life looks life for those who follow Jesus, read and want to do what the the Book says out of love and not law, are in the process of becoming more and more like Him? Let's face it ... we are imperfect! Sometimes, things - no matter the size - get us. When one of us messes up ... shouldn't another come along to help? This should kinda be a commercial for "the church".

I look back. I want to move forward ... but sometimes the things - no matter the size - get me. And, when life is messy ... I need someone to help me out. Go ahead ... call me human!

Being human and still counting,
Christina

In the middle of launching one daughter, the other two had "launchings" of their own!

Precious Parker turned 14 on July 22. My little free-spirit was surprised by old friends popping by for a "Surprise" birthday party. Greek food at our famous "Greek House" on campus was on the menu for dinner.

Little Libby turned 10 ("double digit"s as she likes to now refer to herself) August 21 ... which just happened to be the first day of school. My tender-hearted, bold beauty wanted to celebrate her day with me on August 14 so Addie could be a part of the festivities.

So ... on August 21, Parker made her way to her middle school in style ... in quiet confidence that only Parker can rock ... and came home reporting the day to be a 7 out of 10.

Since the first day of school for Libby just happened to be her birthday, she brought donuts to school to celebrate. She came home reporting the day to be ... "Great"!

The night before school started, the four of us(Chris, me, Parker and Libby) were eating dinner. We were engaging, laughing, and eating when Libby made a profound little Libby-like statement:

"Guys! We are doing OK aren't we? I thought we'd be crying for days after Addie left but look at us. We are doing just fine!"

Kinda sums it up. We are doing just fine.

And ... because I gotta get in the last word ... we are doing just fine because of the One who is holding our hearts in this process. We are a mess without Him. He holds us all together ... either together or separated .. and in His hands ... "We are doing just fine!"

Nope. I am not Siskel or Ebert (and if you are too young to know who they are don't tell me!). There will be no giving of thumbs up or down. Just a simple commentary on my life ... at this moment. This movie title kinda just sums up my thoughts: Eat. Pray. Love.

Living in this place seems rather normal. It didn't take long for the adaptation to take hold and make me one with my mother land. Now, the things that stand out to me are the people ... my people. As I look back on this period of time that has now become the past ... it's pretty much marked by times of eating ... praying ... and loving.

Eating certain things that bring you back to another time and place. Eating things that used to not give you heartburn. Eating things in a certain place for the sake of reliving the past. Eating new things with old friends. Eating alongside others that remind you of who you are and where you come from. This coming Friday, we Elledge's will eat nachos on the floor and watch a movie to commemorate our last "Friday Night in the Big Town" before Addison migrates. Eating marks time and space.

Praying looks different the older I get. Now it's more like an exercise of breathing. Sometimes they are long, deep breaths that relax and sooth. Sometimes they are fast-paced and highly rhythmic responses to a crisis. Most times, it's a steady in and out throughout the day. In and out. Constant. Needing it more than needing to eat.

Love. That's an ever complicated action. Love makes me hurt, cry, laugh, hope, hunger for more of it. Love compels me to say more ... or less. Love begs me to hug longer, listen more, talk less. Loves drives me to often eat ... or not eat ... to pray ... harder and longer.

Until next time ...

Today I was thinking about my oldest. I sent her a text to encourage her. Then I wondered how I would send her a text when she is in America and I am here. Then, I got sad. Then, I began to worry. Then, I wanted to research the cheapest phone plans w/unlimited texts to America. Now ... I write.

I am not the only parent ... the only Mamma ... who has walked in these uncomfortable shoes called transition. I know there are others all over the world who have sent their babies off to other countries to make their way in the world. I know that hours have been spent by Mamma's looking through baby books and recalling all night feedings, first steps and words and wonder where the time has gone. I know I am not the first ... but it's the first for me.

This morning as I was spending some time in front of my window ... in my comfy chair ... soaking in the light wind and the struggling sunlight through grey clouds ... I was reminded that this life I've chosen is to be lived by faith ... not by sight.

Interesting. Living by faith for your babies is harder than to live by faith for yourself. I want to provide. I want to protect. I want to hide my baby ... make things easy ... bless ... and make sure her hurts are quickly comforted. Yet, now is the time for me to put my own faith to the test. If I believe what I say I believe about this God of mine ... then I have to let go ... and trust Him ... to take care of this one who is the first to vacate Elledge territory.

I'm pretty sure all night feedings, first steps and words were way easier than this ... letting go.

This week I purchased plane tickets. This will be the first time we Elledge's will have stepped foot on American soil in over 4 years. (OK, Chris had to go back for his Father's funeral for 8 days after we had been here only 9 months and 6 months later I went back to say final goodbye's to my Uncle. Other than that, we've been camped out on European territory.)

I'm not sure how I feel about all of this. Not just the going back but ... the being here ... the leaving here ... the returning "home" ... the coming back to here. We live a certain lifestyle that is often odd. In fact, so odd most people don't "get us". Home can't be defined by the amount of time you've planted roots in a certain place. The 4 years we've lived here we've lived in 2 different places. I've learned that "home" isn't determined by the way others around you look, speak, act or think.

This week I also trimmed a plant. NO big deal in the grand scheme of life, but this plant is very much like how I see my life. This plant grows very fast. If I don't trim it often, it grows out of control. So, I snip little pieces of the newest growth, put my little "sniplings" into little vases of water giving them time to grow new roots and then transplant them into other pots.

And so I draw the following conclusion. We've chosen a life that grows and changes very fast just like my above mentioned plant. If live by my own reasoning, it will grow out of control. God uses little "snips" now and then to teach me about me ... but more importantly about Him. The gracious thing is ... these parts that he trims ... get used ... and the lessons keep giving to others ... and to myself. From one life, comes many lessons.

Here's to growing more and deeper roots ...

A birthday is such a great time to reflect. My oldest daughter, the one who will be CEO of something, be the one to organize my Nursing Home arrangements, and was born with wings to fly far from home celebrates another year tomorrow. So … I reflect.

If she, Addison, were not my daughter, I would want to be her friend. She is a faithful friend. She doesn’t give up on people. She sees the best in them, putting up with a lot … sometimes too much and gets her heart hurt. But, she’s faithful. I believe she desires her friends to see love from a greater source … her source. I would be her friend.

If she, Addison, were not my daughter, I would want her to be my sister. She is a committed sister. Opting to have Libby sleep in her bed with her and watch a movie until they fall asleep together takes commitment. Taking precious Parker out to coffee so they can catch up on life, knowing soon and very soon those coffee dates will be few and far between … all spells commitment to me. She truly loves her sisters. (Yes, they fight. Yes, they get on her nerves. Yes, she can be bossy and they mumble impolite words beneath their breath. However, at the end of the day … they remain committed.) I would be her sister.

Next year at this time, I will be preparing to send my little one off to give those wings of hers a try. Right now, I can’t think of that moment … for tears grip my eyes and some unknown hurt that is too painful to bear holds my heart captive. That will have to wait. Those emotions will have to remain far in the future. I can’t unwrap those now … and I don’t have to.