Lake Tahoe + My Family | Personal

"i can't help feeling,  we could have had it all." adele It's no secret that we've had deep sadness in our family this year.  My mom left behind her seven kids and husband in January, and our second kid left behind his mom, dad and brother in May.  But it's also no secret: we have had a dream-like year.  Caleb, Rowdy and I eat all three meals together nearly every day.  We both have more steady work this year than we've both had in years.  We have traveled more this year (after having a baby) than we have any other year of our life.  We've made great progress on our home in Oklahoma.  We've spent significant months with both sides of the family, even though they live 1500 miles apart.  We've been able to enjoy our healthy, weird, sweet, curious son learn and develop a personality. We haven't been away from each other for a single night.  The blessing of these things is not missed on me, and I'm sure life will not continue to be quite like this.  In fact, it could be drastically different one day.  But today?  My whole self will sing a thankful song, and then we'll swim in the blue. (Lake Tahoe was my mother's childhood summer hang-out.  The house her parent's bought when she was two is about 45 minutes from the lake.  I heard stories and saw pictures of long, hot 1960's days, colorful umbrellas against the mountain horizon, and small blonde girls jumping off rocks.  Once my mom had children she brought us back as often as she could.  This trip was Rowdy's first time to this heritage-place.  We went with my two sisters, one brother, and Uncle Scott.  There is power in place.) “Every place is given its character by certain patterns of events that keep on happening there… The more living patterns there are in a place - a room, a building, a lake, or a town -  the more it comes to life as an entity, the more it glows,  the more it has that self-maintaining fire which is the quality without a name.”   Christopher Alexander -- The Timeless Way of Building

Introducing, Our Son, Rowdy

crickets calling wing to wing 
someday baby you will sing
tanya goodman - someday baby

(ALL picture credit to our "life" photographer, Lydia Jane.  

I can't wait to be able to do the same for you someday, friend, so you'll know how much of a blessing aaaaalll these pictures are to us.)

On June 14, just minutes after ten o'clock in the evening, Caleb and I met and held and looked at our son in person - and he looked at us back.   He was flawless - rosy pink, pudgy, smooth and snuggly.  Our string bean weighed seven pounds, twelve ounces and was almost twenty-two inches long.  My mom says he's the strongest baby she's ever seen.  His hands and feet are huge.  We love his long spindly fingers and knobby knees.  Heck, we love everything about him.



The little "tornado" hair swirl on the back of his head.
The fact that when he was born he didn't have a double chin,
but the night after we came home from the hospital he did.
The weird cross-eyed kissy-lip face he makes when he seems confused.
The sole "WAH." he'll blurt out when he's tired but wants attention. Not a string of fussing - just dozing in and out of awakeness with a random "WAH!" It's hilarious.
The way his little knuckles leave marks in our skin when we hold him still for an hour.
The power kicks and almost-roll-overs (seriously!) and dreamy smiles every time he sleeps.
The eye-contact and how he knows my voice.
The voice daddy makes only for Rowdy.
The way time runs together in finger-paint-ease; hours float together and somehow it's been a week?  Already?
The way everyone - everyone - responds to his presence.  Our families, our friends, strangers at Chick-fil-a and Target, the doctor and nurses.  Everywhere we go people smile and chat and come out of their shells.  He brings out kindness and love.
The idea that God loves us as naturally, easily, eagerly and tenderly as we love Rowdy.  And then some.  We're the King's babies and I love getting to experience the parent-side of this love.  It makes me tear up when I think about God - He really, really does love me.  Wow.

ROWDY

spirited and enthusiastic; full of liveliness, vigor, or courage 

At our almost-10-week appointment, we were able to watch Rowdy on the sonogram screen for a few minutes.  He was the size of a green grape, and we obviously didn't know he was a "he" yet.  His head was still larger than the rest of his body.  We heard his heart pumping away, steady like a Native American drum beat.  His arms, about as long as two grains of rice, were up along his face, with his fists resting next to the place his ears would be.  Initially he was completely still, but as the technician moved the wand and "prodded" him, he stirred.  His big head slowly rocked side to side and his arms batted across the screen.  When the tech didn't stop, he began furiously kicking his legs and swimming "away."  His arms pumped harder and he spun himself over so we could see his back.  I cried, Caleb cheered him on and the tech laughed: "Wow!  What a lively little guy you have!"  He was so human and animated and... tiny!... and ours.

At our 20-week appointment, when we found out Rowdy was a dude, he started out asleep and laying perfectly still.  But after a few minutes he began to karate-jab the doppler.  One HARD kick/punch, right in the center of the wand.  Once it was hard enough to cause the tech's hand to lift up into the air!  He didn't "kick kick kick kick."  No, it was a single, aimed, full-force kick followed by another minutes later.  I cried again.  As the tech continued, he took matters into his own hands and rolled over, made himself into a "tent" with his butt pointed up, and was on lock-down so we could't "get in" and see.  He wouldNOT budge.  I know he was awake.  I know it.  Feisty muffin.

The single-punch "get off of me!" moves only continued into the pregnancy.  The midwives always commented on how especially strong and vigorous he was.   So when we came across the name "Rowdy" and read what it meant, it just seemed to fit our boy.  We had a different name we were 99% sure we were using (and we even called him it before he was born!) and we had two other "contenders."  But once we had him in our arms, the other names just weren't "him."  They weren't our spirited, animated, determined, enthusiastic, sandy, rowdy Rowdy.

Baby, we are praying that you will indeed be a spirited person, truly full of courage.  Brimming with life!  Life is a super great gift, and we want you to enjoy it and the One who gave it with all your heart.  There is so much good to be savored, even when the hard is raging.  

"God gives life and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them... 

and be to happy in our toil —this is a gift of God...

God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart."

ecclesiastes 5:18/20

NEIL

passionate champion; victorious 

"You belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory..."

Caleb and I both look back on our walks with God and our lives in Him and agree that we didn't understand the entirety of the gospel for far too long.  I used to think "the cross" was "the gospel."  When asked I could easily say "Jesus died for my sins!" (using the five fingers on my hand for each word).  The Gospel was the story of God dying for His people and thereby saving them from the wrath they deserved - all because of Love.  

What we failed to cherish in our hearts, minds and souls was that this was only a part of the gospel.  It's a beautiful, intense, necessary, moving, real part of the gospel of grace.  But it isn't the whole story.  It's not all of the good news.  The rest of the good news is that now that we are saved, we get, we are entitled to, we are heirs of the greatest gifts.  The rest of the story is that Jesus didn't just die, but He rose.  He rose from hell and beat death.  Death lost.  He won.  If the gospel was "the story of the cross" we would miss out on the benefits of the empty grave and the filled throne.  Because He not only lived, and not only died, and not only lived again, but He returned Home, with eternal scars in His palms, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, and entered the Holy Places with our adoption papers, ready to intercede on our behalf forever.  We aren't waiting to find out what the final score will be, we are waiting for the awards ceremony.  We know who won.  We know what the prize is.  We're now celebrating the victory of the grace, unshackled and unashamed, never to be bound by sin or death or fears or flesh or Satan or Hell or powers or hate or evil again. We're celebrating now.  "You have already won.  You belong... now."

"Are you also confused? Is our champion helpless to save us? 

You are right here among us, Lord, and we are known as your people!” 

"...keeping our eyes on Jesus, the Champion who initiates and perfects our faith.

 Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. 

Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. "

"Christ is risen from the dead 

Trampling over death by death 

Come awake, come awake!"

We happily gave our son the middle name "Neil" in honor of his great-grandfather's brother, Neil Morris and his son Neil Morris Jr., his grandfather, Terry Neil Morris, and his father, Caleb Neil Morris.  No matter what the name meant, we would have wanted to carry this tradition on for the fourth generation.  But wow.  What a perfect definition.   The error in thinking of the gospel "only" as the cross displayed itself in manic obsession with personal obedience, fear and shame when we made mistakes, disappointment with ourselves over and over as we failed time and again, harsh and stony judgement of those who lived in ways we disapproved of, robotic adherence to the rules, and hunger for the praise and approval of the Christian people we respected.   We "so quickly deserted the one who called us to live in the grace of Christ and turned to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all."

Baby, we are praying and planning and so looking forward to raising you in the triumphant, sweet news we hold so dear.  We can't wait to tell you the stories of the generations that have gone before you - your family tree is incredible.  How you even exist is incredible.  We can't wait to tell you all the lessons we have learned from our parents and grandparents.  We want to live out life with you as as happy, free, rejoicing people, and we want you to join our singing.  That's our greatest prayer, Rowdy Boy.

Rowdy, being yours has been really nothing but wonderful.  Wonder upon wonder.  And just when we think we couldn't love you more, you do something (like hiccup) and our hearts somehow have room for just a little more love.  We're so happy you're here.

"Oh well I look at you and say

'It's the happiest that I've ever been'

And I'll say I no longer feel I have to be James Dean

And she'll say 'Yah well I feel all pretty happy, too'

And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you."

Five Years Time - Noah and The Whale

Red Dirt Roof | Our House

free, nothing feels like free
though it sometimes means we don’t get along
cause same, no, we’re not the same
but that’s what makes us strong
home - dierks bentley 

I tell people that he's a country boy, not a farm boy.  He's a small town boy, not a ranch boy.  He doesn't hunt in his spare time.  He'll go with the boys and have fun.  But he'd probably have just as much fun shooting a Justin Beiber poster hanging on a tree.  He doesn't like to deal with, let alone breed or feed or clean or skin, animals.  He loves nature - the trees animate him, the dogs annoy him.  Sunsets bring him to tears, goats and chickens and cows are... tasty.  He can't sleep in, unless it's Saturday and there is nothing planned for the day.  He is very confused by computers and all their tomfoolery.  Especially when it comes to formatting.  Talk about stress ;)  He's actually far less self-concious in groups of people than I am, and he rarely feels awkward.  He's happy and people are his favorite.  He is entertained by watching people - he takes it in and processes.  We joke that he's the quiet social butterfly and I'm the loud homebody.  He loves to "go out and do!" He loves to get things done.  He loves to come up with things to get done.  But he just learned how to use Excel when we got engaged, and still doesn't "schedule."  He just lives hard and thoroughly without being frustrated by daily timelines of ALL HE MUST GET DO.  It's a country quality.  There is peace in these plains.

I've wrongly acquired the title "city girl" in our story.  I've never lived in "the city" and I can easily go months without visiting "the city."  I'm a suburban girl.  Who has the option of going into the District of Columbia, the Nation's Capital, the city whenever I'd like.  I was born 8 miles away from the White House, where 42 presidents have lived with their families and pets.  Mr. Obama still lives only 20 miles away.  But I don't live in the city, I live just outside it.  With access to bay-towns, like Annapolis and Alexandria, where boats are docked and water is blue, and historical towns, like Mount Vernon and Harper's Ferry, which sometimes seem untouched since their colonial and civil war days, to country-towns, big and small, like Frederick and Brunswick, and national skyline cities like Baltimore and Philadelphia... and even Times Square in New York City, New York is only four hours away.

I personally grew up Home Owner's Association neighborhoods - with community swimming pools, the best part of summer, especially when we had change for the ice cream truck, and spontaneous all-street Man Hunt and Capture the Flag games, comprised of children from about ten different families.  Sure, there wasn't much yard space, but there was plenty of room for creative rascals to make memories and get an adrenaline rush.  The beach is three hours away, but I've also been a suburban girl outside of San Diego City.  And the beach, then, was only twenty minutes away.  Glorious.  Both in California and Maryland mountains were severely close by, and so were plains and fields, and traffic jams.  We have every kind of restaurant nearby - chains and mom-and-pops and breakfast and lunch and dinner and every country imaginable is represented.  There is no such thing as "we don't have that."  We do.  Somewhere in the near vicinity, we do.  There is a buzz in these suburbs.

"Cause same, no, we’re not the same
But that’s what makes us strong."

Early in March we drove two full days in my determined white Corolla, filled with tools and coconut-oil popcorn and four grown people and one growing person.  Oklahoma was our stop.  And to build the roof was our goal.  Caleb shouldered the largest responsibility, obviously, but we were dependent on our brothers and a few good friends.  One month.  We had one month to get it done.  

This dream-house has been a part of a number of mind-makeovers the last few years.  As a single boy, Caleb envisioned a dark, cozy, log lodge.  As I've said before, Hollywood High Heels Sparkles Leigh over here, ah-ha, well, didn't.  So we've imagined together what this house could be.  Decorations aside, what's the point of it?  We both want it to function like a suburban home - with cars and friends and people over constantly.  We want it to be warm and welcoming.  We want space for people to come and stay the night or stay the week or stay the month.  As long as they don't fuss when it's time to watch the Thunder games.  We want this house to buzz with life and bodies in the peace of it's Solitude Forest.  What once was a home with two or three bedrooms has turned into a home with five or six, and plans for another two-four to be added on someday.  One bathroom became four bathrooms.  The kitchen moved from being tucked away under the stairs into the great room, siamese twins with the family room where couches, eating, TV, the fireplace and food all happily spill together into the same space.  But first.  We needed a roof.

Day One on the site was crucial.  We needed to hunt down two oak trees to hold the roof up.  We called them our Giving Trees, chopped down to keep us safe and dry.  I was surprised at how emotional I was when we decided on them.  They were - are - so beautiful.  And we have twenty acres full of them.  And I'm no "tree-hugger" but I found myself wishing I could say "Thank you, pretty tree."  Maybe what I was feeling was gratitude to God - He made these trees so lovely, and it really is an honor to use them in our home.















After chopping the trees down, they had to be hauled from their location on our property over to the house.  The next step was bracing them upright so the roof construction could begin on them.  They look so little "inside"!




Once the trees were quite secure, it was time for the gables to go up and the framing to begin.







The framing took a long, long time.  This house is not simple and the angles are sharp, steep and frequent.  It took tough patience and OCD-awareness to cut and arrange every single board in the perfect place.

Midway through the framing process, Caleb had the topped of his finger smashed off.  See the long boards on the right of the house? ^ He was straddling the middle board that those are leaning on, with a nail gun, while the guys pushed boards up to him.  He'd "catch" the board, place it on the beam, and nail it down.  One time his hand was to close to the beam and the guys pushed the board up harder than they had in the past.  His finger jammed between the beam and board and the top popped off, yet was held on by his finger nail.  We rushed to the Guthrie hospital for Lidocaine, stitches and hopefully positive news.  It was not this woman's favorite part of the trip :-/  But thankfully, six weeks later, it's healed up very nicely.  A little weird shaped and the nerves are shot, but his finger is all there!  After the finger incident, he developed a corneal ulcer.  So he went to work everyday with a giant bandage/wrap/cast on his hand and a pirate-patch on his eye.  So pitiful and cute ;)

Day after day, early morning into late dark night, over and over, he and the boys, and I would drive up and down this road.  From town to his parent's house to our house.  Bit by bit, again and again.  Until we were finally ROOFED IN.  The day shingles went up was a day of celebration.  The site was like an anthill and the energy was colored.  Hot donuts from Missy's sat in a nearly untouched white box.  Everyone was too excited to eat.

While the "shingles crew" worked away outside, another set of guys started the interior framing.   This part of the project was up in the air.  Not necessary to get done this trip, but would certainly be nice to have completed!  They ended up having enough time and man-power to go for it.  In this next picture you can see the two trees holding up the roof.  A staircase will eventually lead up inbetween these trees to the second floor loft.  The top floor has a number of bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as a staircase leading to the massively-cool third story tower bedroom.  Under the loft: aka the first floor, is the master bedroom and bathroom, powder room and laundry room... then in the "open" area under the trusses are the kitchen, dining room and living room.



I drew chalk on the concrete where I wanted all the walls to go... My lines are wicked straight ;)

This is the view into the living room - the fire place is on the right, the kitchen is on the left.





Before long there was a second floor!  Incredible.


This is looking down into the master bedroom and walk-in closet:



Our good friend Wild Bill brought by some freshly milled cedar wood.  He makes all kinds of brilliant chairs and swings and beds and frames and hope chests and... well... anything, really! out of that gorgeous, fragrant, red wood. We hope to make some doors and window sills out of our own cedars :)


Dave and Kate (and Little Lillian and Keith) have popped up a few times in this post.  They are our next door neighbors, jolly good friends and the owners/runners of Merrick Valley Family Farm (certified organic, woot woot!).  They have a fascinating homestead.  I love to listen to them talk about their beliefs and ideas, and how they practically make them happen.  They are dreamers and do-ers and just so friendly and dear.  We love them.


A good summary of my life ;)

Dear Man,
I loved that you bought this land, and planned for this house, before I even loved you.  Now that we're in love and committed to love and I know you a whole lot better than I did when I first visited this land, I see how much of you is hidden in these twenty acres, like it was hidden in your heart.  Obvious things, like the design and architecture of this house.  While friends, and even your twin brother, built and recommended you build a more classic, traditional, straight-foward home.  Time and cost efficient, solid and relatively easy.  It made all the logical and practical sense in the world.  But you just couldn't do it.  A layered, dimensional, 45-degreed, intricate home was in your soul, and you just had to go for it.  A home where every single room is shaped differently, each with it's own set of personality and potential.  It's you.  And subtle things, like your visions for the rounded driveway, and the view that any guest would first see when arriving at the house.  Your vision for a green yard with lots of room for sports and play - in the middle of the woods.  Your plans for new additions, more houses on the property, and a bandstand at the top of the hill, where all the redbuds bloom, so we can have summer concerts with friends - it's all you.

When I first met you, I assumed you were a simple, straight-forward, traditional guy.  I had no idea how many corridors and ideas and mysteries and angles you had hidden away in you.  I had no idea you were so full of creativity and energy and imagination.  I had no idea you were so picky and thorough and flexible and spontaneous.  I assumed you were predictable and you've proven to be wonderfully surprising.   Consistent, yes.  Dependable, yes.  Predictable, no.

I love you, and all the parts of you know and I'll the parts of you yet to know.  Thank you for giving us this beautiful part of yourself.  I can't wait to tell our kids all these stories, and to show them all these pictures, and for them to get to know you, too.  You have worked far too hard to make this thing in your head a real place for us to enjoy.  And I adore it.  Even though I still sometimes get nervous about living in Oklahoma, those 20 acres - and that house in particular - is my favorite place in the entire world.

I love you. And I'm proud of you and just want to brag about you for pages.  "You have a beautiful mind." ;)

Love,
Me




Someday a spiral staircase will lead up to this small and magical third story tower room... but for now a hole in the floor board will do ;)





Check out the progress! I'm obsessed.


I can see it so clearly: windows in, deck built, grass grown, grill smoking, music playing, watermelon sliced.  I get carried away thinking about evenings here, ten years from now.




Good bye, house.  This was the last time we saw you... we're planning on being back in the fall, with a squishy ol' baby.  We have some windows to put in -- let's see if we can save the money in time ;)  We love you, Red Dirt House and can't wait for all the stories yet to come.  It was such a happy, sweet month of our lives putting this roof on.  The best is yet to come...

Remember when we said when we turned gray When the children grow up and move away We won't be sad, we'll be glad For all the life we've had And we'll remember when