Seized by Hope

Tastes of our Life

Alongside the plethora of emotions I am holding on a daily, if not hourly, is the beauty of what life here includes for us.  Saturday morning we awoke to cool temperatures and rain beating against the roof.  As we sat drinking our coffee and contemplating the day Steven suggested exploring Kalamazoo a bit. 

So we perused the internet and found an ecclectic coffeeshop to try and loaded up the kids in the "Ex" and headed for town.

The day was relaxed and it was sweet to be alone as a family for a few hours wandering the streets and driving through potential neighborhoods where we might like to live.  We all agreed we must return to the coffeeshop with Katy and Allison, "because they really, really like to drink coffee....and Allison will love the art in this place"

Sunday after church Elly and Libby came running upstairs and declared, "Grampa Doctor says we need to go buy some pumpkins.  Can we go with him and buy some?"  Before it was all said and done there were 7 of us heading out to purchase pumpkins.  Grampa Doctor and Grandma Sandy facilitated the event which concluded with pumpkin carving on their front porch. 

The girls were thrilled with their pumpkins and Steven carved a pretty sweet "Spartan" pumpkin in honor of his newly found football team of choice.

Here's some pictures from the weekend.

 

Fall Weekend in Michigan from Tracy Johnson on Vimeo.

Ellyse Faith is Four

I wandered quietly out to the kitchen, making my way past the boxes already packed and skirting the items randomly laying on the floor waiting to be deposited in their boxes.  I poured the water into the coffee maker, and tried to muffle the sound of the grinder under a towel as the beans for this mornings pot whirred around being crushed.  The coffee began brewing and as the warm smell filled the kitchen I sat in my chair to read from my bible.  Turning to the back page I traced down with my finger for where today's passage was located and my finger landed on July 28.

July 28, Elly's birthday.

Elly's birthday is usually marked by the events and happenings surrounding it.  Her presence stands as a visible reminder of God's wildness, goodness, extravagance, and mysteriousness.  She is the exclamation point at the end of my journey with childbirth.  Elly was born the year before Katy's senior year of high school.  The following year her first birthday was the day we attended a party welcoming Katy to her college, and after the party Elly sat in the shopping cart clutching "sheepy" as we walked through IKEA picking up dorm items for Katy's room.  The next year Elly's birthday was the day before Katy left for Europe for her semester abroad.  Her young life stands is sharp contrast to that of her older sister who was perched on the edge of adulthood the year Elly arrived.

Elly is life, joy, excitement, curiosity, passion, creativity and sweetness.  Her eyes are bright and her smile impish and contagious.  She is independent and opinionated.  She knows how to fight for her space and she will not be forgotten or dismissed or lost in the crowd of the tall people who surround her each day.  She doesn't really understand that she is four and her older sisters are adults...she sees herself as equal with them and due the same consideration and privileges that they have.  In so many ways she is a typical four year old, and in many others she is a reflection of the complexity of the family she was born into.

Ellyse Faith is four.  I am overwhelmingly grateful for her presence, in all of its unexpected grandeur.  She keeps me grounded and connected to my children, all of them at all their various ages.  Her sweet kisses and cries that I hug her good-bye, even if I am only running to the corner grocery store, remind me that life is never too busy to hug and kiss those you love most.  Her soft body curled up on my lap keeps my heart soft and tender to the need each of has to be comforted and held...no matter how old we get.  My hand easily finds its way to her hair to stroke and play, and my big girls still my hand on their hair stroking it and reminding them that I am here and they are safe.  The routine she loves each morning is a daily reminder that Steven too likes routine in the morning, a routine that gives him access to me before his day gets going.

It would have been so easy to power my way through these years of "the original three" moving into adulthood.  I suspect Steven would have been left in the dust of his sisters departures for college, expected to be even more "grown up" and independent.  I would have filled the space created with the girls departure for school with other things, things that would have left me less aware and less connected to home.

God's wildness tastes sweet in this space with Elly.  She keeps me dependent and vulnerable and needy.  She needs my soft, tender, joy-filled, smiling, secure, consistent embrace of her.  In truth, embracing her is often about embracing my own heart.  She won't let me leave my heart behind and power through my days.  I would miss her, and miss me, and miss where God is meeting me in the middle of it all.

Happy Birthday Elly.  You are God's sweet gift to me.

She's gone.

Thursday evening Allison's "gala graduation weekend" began.  It all started with a small dinner for those who have walked closely with her during these past couple of years.  She has worked for months on a special gift for those attending.  She took the idea from Mark sharing that in the bible wine was symbolic of joy, and drinking of wine was part of celebrating times of joy.  Allison has saved wine bottles over the months and she carefully decorated each one with words and items symbolic of the joy that those invited to this evening had brought her.  As she made her way around the table sharing her bottles and her words I was struck by her beauty and the ease with which she handled herself.  There were tears and hugs and laughter and joking....all indicative of her special essence and what she invites in people.

Friday morning brought another celebration for the women who have impacted her life.  A special tea, including the stipulation that all attending wear hats, was held to honor Allison.  The precious woman hosting the tea has been in our lives since Allison was just 5 years old.  She has visited us as we've moved across the country, and she's prayed for Allison for all those years.  As we sat in her lovely home I was aware again of the beauty of the day and the extravagance of God's love poured out on us, and particularly on Allison.  The women attending sat circled around and offered Allison words of blessing about who she is and words of vision and hope for where her life will now lead.  There were plenty of tears once again.

Friday night she walked down the stairs in her cap in gown, honor sash, cum laude cords, and the national honor society cords that Katy wore at her graduation.  My mom was standing nearby and she said, "I can remember when you moved into this house thinking that one day they would all walk those stairs and in the caps and gowns and someday the girls would walk down in their wedding dresses."  I could feel the tears well up in my eyes.  Photos were snapped and we all loaded up to stop for a quick dinner on our way to the coliseum where graduation was to be held.  Allison had told us where to sit and her suggestion was perfect, we could clearly see her amidst the nearly 700 graduates seated on the floor.  There was lots of cheering as she made her way onto the floor and again as she walked the stage.  The girl they told us could not make it in the traditional classroom, the girl who was too hampered by her learning disability, the girl we fought for, and others fought for, the girl who learned to fight for herself.  It was a moment Mark and I had hoped and waited for and it was beyond our expectations.  It was filled a sweetness I can still taste.

Sunday morning I walked up to the room she sponge painted herself at 12 years old, the room that has housed all her special trinkets and possessions, the room that has been her sanctuary, to wake her up at 4:30am.  As I opened the door I bumped her suitcase, and was greeted by the empty walls.  All of her posters and memories stacked in the corner, boxes labeled "college" and "new house" and "goodwill".  We pulled out of the driveway at 5am and as we turned onto the familiar road that takes us to the freeway I heard her sniffle and turned around to see her tears.  "This is the last time I'll be that house or drive away down this road." 

At the airport we hugged her good bye, not knowing where "home" will be the next time Allison flies back to us.  While we will see her at the end of July, there was a sense of finality as we dropped her off.  This season of her life has ended. 

It all came so quickly.  So much to feel and speak and process in just a few days time. 

Today I went up to her room and sat, allowing myself to feel it and cry a bit.  I left her room with my list for the day in my head, the things I must do today so the realtor can take the photos tomorrow and put the sign in the front yard.

I will write more about all of that another day.

Here's a video of the weekend.  The song was picked by Steven.  When I asked him what he will miss most about Allison he looked at me and said, "Everything.  Just everything.  It sounds dumb, but it's the truth."  I asked him why this song when he gave it to me and he said, "Because, she lets me eat her french fries".

Everything...that about sums it up.

Little Moments from Tracy Johnson on Vimeo.

Mother's Day Weekend

Friday morning Libby's kindergarten class had their mother's day tea....

Her teacher had picked out poems and readings to share with the mom's as we sat drinking our tea and eating our cake, while looking at the plethora of handmade items our children had set at our places.  Her readings had a theme, the message that all too soon our little one's will be graduating from high school and heading for college...and we will miss what is important if we aren't careful.  I looked around the room at the young women seated at the tables and noticed nodding heads of approval, almost as if to say "yes we know, we agree". 

I smiled a bit and also noticed that my head wasn't nodding, while realistically I might have had the strongest sense of the truth of her message. 

I left Libby to run by the post office and mail Allison's graduation announcements and fund raising letter for her summer at Camp Redcloud.  From there Mark and I drove to pick up Steven's tuxedo for his formal Friday night.

Elly finished her day at school and handed me a mother's day present which included this picture glued to the top of a heart shaped box...

I returned home and find Katy and her two friends from college beginning to make tiramisu in my kitchen....

Late in the day it was time to get Steven ready to go for his formal.  As he put on his tuxedo and came down the stairs for his first formal dinner I felt the memories flood in of Katy's trips down those same stairs on her way to her formal dinners in high school.  We walked out on the front porch and took a few pictures...

 

Katy won best 'hair' her freshman year at formal dinner, Steven won "best" dressed.  Mark commented that we have taught our kids how to celebrate well.

Saturday morning arrived and it was time to begin the process of getting our house ready to put on the market to sell.  Furniture went to storage, books were packed up, I sifted through memories stored drawers and boxes as we continue to address the "clutter" that must be cleared.  Clutter...handmade place-mats from mothers day teas, an old boutonniere from Steven being a ring bearer years ago, a memo about Senior week for Katy from 2007, a photo of Allison graduating from kindergarten.

By the time Sunday rolled around my heart was feeling pretty overwhelmed with emotion.  The beauty of my five children, the reality that I cannot be all they need for me to be, the joy of watching them grow into adults, the heaviness of packing up and selling the house that has been our home for 10 years.

It was quite a weekend.

Was It Too Much?

Yesterday morning I headed for the airport with K, A, S, L and E all buckled into the Expedition.  The music was playing in the back of the truck, A was frustrated at the lack of communication about the plan for the morning and S was wanting L to stop repeating the same phrase over and over again.

K looked over at me and said, "So, how was the week for you Mom?  Was it too much?"

Loaded question.

Suffice it to say that there were moments where 5 kids, varying desires and expectations, feeding nearly 20 people Thanksgiving dinner, decorating for Christmas and trying to have an occasional thought of my own felt like too much.  And, it was all filled with life and laughter and goodness at multiple levels.

Here's a little movie from Thanksgiving Day....  (And I just want to add that we did ROAST a turkey as well, which the original three affectionately named George, he was a British turkey)

Almost home...

K posted a status on her Face-book that said, "K is almost home".  Her plane will arrive in 9 hours.  When I walked into L and E's room this morning to wake them up the first words out of their mouths were, "Today is the day K comes home!"  The activities of the day are now just part of a countdown until we leave to pick her up at the airport.

She is ready to come home.

At the Strong Women Soft Hearts retreat Paula spoke about each of us holding a longing for "home".  It is deeper than the experience we have when we visit a house that represents "home", for that is just a taste of what we are really made to enjoy.

I was thinking this week that I don't refer to my parents house as "home" anymore.  Actually, I don't even think of Phoenix as "home".  I thought about when that changed, when I stopped referring to trips to Phoenix as going home.  I believe it was about 12 years ago.  After we had lived in San Antonio for a year and experienced something very special at the church we were attending.  People had embraced us in ways we hand't really known before, and our family had become a part of something that tasted sweet.  That church and our life in San Antonio felt like home.  Trips to visit my mom and dad became trips to Phoenix, not trips "home".

When we left San Antonio two years later the ache was deeper than I had known in previous moves, and the people we'd come to love continued to pursue and care for us across the miles that separated us from them.  Our church home wanted us to stay connected, in fact they wanted us to come back, to come home again.  When we were invited to return and take a place of the staff at the church we felt an excitement and gratitude that filled up nearly every nook and cranny of our hearts.  That first sunday, a week after Thanksgiving in 2000 as I sat in the pews of the familiar sanctuary I felt a rest in my soul and a feeling that I was again "home".

"Home is where your heart is"

"Home is where your story begins"

Cliche words often found on wooden plaques at artsy little shops.  And, yet cliche or not filled with truth.

Home is not necessarily the house you grew up in, it may not be the town where you lived the longest, it isn't always where your extended family lives, and sadly it may not even be with the house you are living right now.

Home is a place where the emptiness that comes from living in a fallen world, separated from the God who loves us, is filled and the ache is relieved more than when you are in any other place.  Home is about warmth that touches your soul and washes over your heart and causes you to take a breath and exhale deeply.  Home is where you can curl up and be quiet and still be seen.  Home is where your laughter is known and enjoyed.  Home is where someone always has arms welcoming you, whatever your condition...clean, messy, angry, sad, joyful, content, angry, needy.  Home is where your arrival is anticipated and people are waiting to welcome you.

Home is something I have and something I long for all at the same time. 

If this couch could speak.

We lived the first 14 years of our married life on hand-me down furniture, save the purchase of a crib for K when she was born.  When we moved to San Antonio 9 years ago to begin ministry to young adults we made our first major furniture purchase.  Couches.  Two full size, one green and one floral. 

I remember the day they arrived and one of our young adults came over to help move them into the family room.  From that day forward these couches provided seating for literally hundreds of young adults, and family members and friends of our children.

Two weeks ago the floral sleeper sofa broke beyond repair.  We've been propping it up with cinder blocks for months now, but this last collapse made the need to replace it unavoidable.

If that floral sleeper sofa could speak it would have tales to tell.

It would recount hours of conversation.  Secrets that it has held for years and years.  Tears shed upon its pillows and laughter had on it's cushions.  It would tell of the time Darin sat on it and held L, just a tiny baby, finding his heart for his story of being adopted.  It would remember Forums with Lauren and Chelli and Debbie.  It would tell of a particular night when a precious woman wept over a child lost to abortion as she sat it's welcoming cushions.  It would recall hours of play with A and her sweet puppies romping all about on it.  It would speak of conversations with Josh that were life changing.  It would tell of Chuck and hours he spent sitting on it.  It would point to the spot that belongs to Dave on Christmas morning.  It would sing lyrics from all the rock band tunes played from upon it.  It would whisper the secrets Mark and I have shared while sitting slouched down on it's softness.  It would remember holding me as I wept the night Marnie died and the news reached my ears as I sat upon it.  It would describe its view of the christmas tree each year.  It would tell of opening itself up and the bed being pulled out to provide a place for Lory to sleep, for the five Johnson children to lay next to each other for the first time when E came home from the hospital.  It would definitely talk about Danny, Tim and Tom.  It would talk about salsa and chips with Mercy.  It would tell of Chris P and his laughter and joy.  It would remember the couples group with the Beaugh's, The Kurz's, The Paveglio's and The Cabell's.  It would remember the night Russ took a brave step in his story.  It would remember conversation after conversation after conversation from Guy's Night and Community Group.

If this couch could speak...........

End of the week....

Well, I haven't written much this week.  S was sick until yesterday, and E developed a "surface skin infection" and now has a rash from the anti-biotics leaving, her home with me.  Needless to say it's been busy at my house.

Tomorrow is Halloween and we are preparing costumes for the party that S and A are attending.  L went to the pumpkin patch with her class yesterday and is ready to decorate a pumpkin after school today.  K is also dressing up for a party with her friends at school.  Everyone at my house enjoys the "dressing up" aspect of Halloween for sure.

This morning A posted this on her face-book...so enjoy.

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Unpacking

I walked into our bedroom this morning and noticed Mark's suitcase still mostly packed from our week in Michigan.

The week has flown by, and we hit the ground running for sure when the plane landed on Saturday night.

I need to go unpack what's left in his bag and put it away.

It felt like late yesterday we started unpacking emotionally.

There was more unpacked this morning as we drove home from dropping the kids at school.

Unpacking is messy.  You have to separate what's clean and what's dirty, and what may be worn again.

Unpacking reminds you about the trip were on, where you wore that shirt last, or which shoes hurt your feet as you walked around in them.

Unpacking.

There will be more to unpack this weekend I suspect.

I wish it all came home clean and pressed and ready to wear again.....unfortunately that never is the case, either with the clothes or with my emotions.

Sovereignty

The Sovereignty of God is something that I believe is meant to provide a place of rest of comfort for us.  It tells us that God is over all, nothing is beyond His control, His purposes are not thwarted by things that seemingly rattle us.  He is working always for our good and His glory.

I have heard about the sovereignty of God ever since I was a child.  It usually gets brought up when something difficult has happened and there is a need for explaining or resolving something.  It feels like one of the "face cards" in the deck of what I call "God Cards"...the cards you lay on the table to trump whatever is being said by someone else.

It shuts down curiosity, feelings, grieving, connection and most conversation.  What do you say after someone has pointed out that God is sovereign? 

How can we rest in the truth of God being sovereign and still express the reality of our human experience? 

I think it is a question worth wondering about.