Spend Your One Life Well

Yesterday I drove to Wheaton College to hear a presentation by Ann Voskamp. Ann is a blogger that I've followed since our China days. She is also an author. She closed her presentation yesterday with the following video clip .... a montage of her gifted writing and photography.

These are the words that challenged and spoke to me:

What if we really figured it out ...

that gratitude for the seemingly small and insignificant,

this seed that plants the giant miracle in the midst of it all,

... this is how you spend your one life well.

See Ann's "Figuring Life Out" montage here:

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

(turn up your volume, maximize your screen, and enjoy!)

Easter in Minnesota

I've spent much of my life heading north for Easter holidays and spring breaks. And although the pay off of seeing family and friends made it worth it, I was often the one bundling up in a parka and mukluks, to head to a colder climate for spring break, while my college buddies were shod in flip flops and headed to the beach.

This year, however, heading north for Easter paid off weather wise. We had an absolutely gorgeous day on Sunday, complete with a GPS guided (geocaching) egg hunt. The girls spent an enormous amount of time throwing a tennis ball to their second cousin, a whimsical chocolate lab named Miss Wilma. It was a perfect spring day!

Being with family (my sweet 85 year-old grandma, my sister, and my auntie and uncle, cousins, their spouses and meeting the new baby) was wonderful. For all the trips we've taken and places we've seen, sometimes nothing beats a good old fashioned road trip to see family for the holidays!

• Sitting corporately in a long row of relatives for an Easter service
• sharing conversation over a ham dinner
• watching as generations spend time together
• (and being a part of that time) was especially special this year.

Hope your Easter was as happy and Sunny!!

Remembrance Day

Eliza Hazel Johnson & Lilly Hazel Lewis with Poppies
Summer 2010, Camrose, Alberta, CANADA

November 11th arrives solemnly in the Northern Hemisphere, just as the wind becomes chilly and the skies morph into a cold grey.

It's a day for remembrance and is so named in Canada. It's the day the US and her neighbor to the north join the UK and other Commonwealth countries marking a moment of silence in honor of our veterans .... Pausing to celebrate a commitment. And, to remember the lives lost in the name of freedom.

Ironically, or maybe ideally, it was the day Mr Johnson's maternal grandfather, a stalwart veteran of not one but two branches of the military was laid to rest complete with a gun salute that pierced the still silence on that biting cold November day not quite a decade ago.

My brother and his wife are both in the United States Marine Corps. My grandfathers were both veterans and my paternal grandmother served in the Royal Canadian Air force, in an era where the world was connected with a common theme of loss and destruction.

American friends who have repatriated from China often write that dates like Independence Day and Memorial day, and also today's, when all the ones line up on the calendar page as if in salute . . . take on special meaning after living in Socialist (Communist) China.

For me this day is inseparable from the words of a poem my Dad would recite, one he learned in Grammar school, each Remembrance Day.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

In Flander's Field by John McCrae

Palm Sunday

At bedtime tonight we re-capped the girls Sunday School lessons.

Eliza showed us the palm frond she made from construction paper.

And then Bea told how the people were, "waving their palms and singing 'Oh Susannah!'"

on being strong....

It does not bode well with me to refrain from posting. Please be assured I've been thinking of things other than ironing boards and orange tables (Although... good news... I have found a buyer for our orange and white darling.... And, if you found that post a bit cynical, forgive me, and know that I pledge to be less caustic in future ones.)

I haven't posted of late because I simply haven't had the words I wanted to use. I'm not sure I do now even. I've been ruminating. Chewing the words over in my mind. Making efforts to digest their meaning.

(At least the collage of photos was lovely for you to look at ... those 16 of you who faithfully return day after day to our blog ... )

I'm presently processing our decision to stay in China, our announcement, and what it means for each member of our family. This week I've been thinking about what it means for me.

I had coffee with three wonderful women last week. Strong women... my favorite kind.

Its been ages since I've had three coffee klatsches in one week... and the timing was perfect. I could air my feelings and bare my soul over a cups of steaming coffee. And, as I listened, I heard sage advice and honest renderings from their hearts.

China is sometimes a tough place to be. It's hard on individuals, families, parents, children, and marriages.

We've been The Johnson's in China four years, and have just chosen to stay another two. Everything lined up on paper, in our minds, and in our hearts, but as the reality of 30 more months enveloped me, it was fitting to talk it out with my "lady friends". **

I chatted with one of my mei mei's this week too. Another strong chica in her own way. We talked about this strong streak, and how it effects our relationships. How it cements them, as long as the men in our lives know what they're up against.

I often use those words with Mr. Johnson. "You knew what you were getting into." Meaning when we tied the knot over a dozen years ago he knew he wasn't getting a mild mannered woman. He usually smirks in acknowledgement, and sometimes even admits he "mostly" knew.

This week I've had to call upon my toughness. I've had to be resolute. Because if I were a meeker woman, I might not be up for the extended time we just signed up for.

We recently heard a statistic about living China that we are certain is true:

The average failure rate for international expats is under 4%. That is: only four percent of people who chose to move, live and work abroad cannot complete their assignment and head back to their home country defeated. For China, that number catapults to 20%.

I can think of a host of reasons for this. I can think of the number of expats we've seen pack their bags and catch a flight home. We were at dinner a couple of Sundays ago with several other families after fellowship when this nugget came up in our conversation. I turned to Mr. Johnson, and high-fived him. We've made it into the 80% who make it in China. And I'm praying for the strength to stay there (and here... ) for two more years.

** My great aunt Helen, a strong woman in her own right, always liked to refer to her friends as "lady friends," and I like the ring of it! Aunt Helen also liked to put out marshmallows and a "little lunch" when we'd traipse to her farm on weekends. After a small amount of polite conversation, when she figured us kids had had enough, she would send my dad off to her cellar to retrieve a cardboard box of farm toys. My favorites were the horses. Horses made in a way lost to future generations eager for features and gadgets. Those magnificent animals, pulled from Great Aunt Helen's cellar, were regal sable-colored Stallions and sleek Arabians with long, sinewy plastic legs; hard, molded tails; and fine, strong facial features. Great Aunt Helen was not a gentle woman, more matter-of-fact... maybe even gruff... and certainly strong. But, she was also kind .... she had marshmallows and lady friends; and she knew when to pull out the box of tricks... all in all not someone bad to emulate.)

Doldrums

We are in the doldrums these days in the Sailing city.

Waiting.

Waiting for the wind to blow us in the direction we will go.

Waiting to know for ourselves the answers to the questions everyone now seems to be asking.

(Next summer ... right? when? where? what will the assignment be?)

In the meantime we wet the proverbial index finger and hold it up to sense the direction of the wind...

Only to be met by utter stillness.

It's a common expat state.

The windless waiting.

The doldrums.

The limbo.

The winds will come. Answers will too.

But for this moment we wait, sheets unfurled...

prepared for the warm breeze of answers and options to billow in.

"Yeah, need a little wind here!"

Chris Farley in Tommy Boy, 1995