We almost moved to Bend.  I mean, in wanting to move to Oregon, Bend was the only place where we had friends who already lived there.  When we visited Oregon the summer before we moved, Bend was the town we had spent the most time in.  We liked Bend, it felt like paradise.  It was small, quaint, hip and full of great art and food.  It seemed to be attracting all sorts of cool people from the college Robin and I went to.  It really did feel like a great place to live…

So why did we end up in Portland?

It’s a good question.  I think there are a few reasons, but before I get into those, let me just say this: I am trying really hard not to be negative for the sake of being negative. I’m trying very hard to really understand why I feel Portland is a better choice for me, and in no way am I making a judgment on Bend in general and in regards to any of my friends that live there.  With that said, on with the reasons:

1. It’s too safe
   Obviously we all want to be safe.  Nobody wants to live in a war-zone.  Nobody wants car-bombs going off down the street, or gang fights happening at the local mall, or child molestors living in your neighborhood.  We want security, comfort, safety.  We want to be able to walk down the street in the middle of the night and not fear for our lives.  And this desire for safety only intensifies as you get older, especially if you have kids.  I have nightmares about something bad happening to my girls.  I’m super paranoid, just ask Robin.  I always think the worst will happen.  And yet, there is something inside of me that feels like “safety” is an illusion (thank you Thrice for that).  It just doesn’t feel right to build huge walls and live in gated communities to keep the “bad” guys out.  It doesn’t seem like a good thing to seclude yourself with people who are just like you and make you feel safe.  Obviously there is a whole expose I could write on why I think this… but for now let me just say this, in deciding to move somewhere, I didn’t want to go somewhere safe.  At least, “safe” as most people might see safe… suburbs, gated communities, no crime, leave your doors unlocked – safe.  Millions of people in the world are forced (without a choice) to live in horrible conditions.  It is part of where we have come as a society, as a race.  Our advancement in technology and culture and such has created large gaps between the richest and the poorest, and what results is brokenness, greed, corruption, hatred, violence and crime.  For the most part, larger cities have more crime because they have more people in a smaller space who are all trying to “make it” – and make it large.  It’s not a pretty system, but it’s the system we find ourselves in, and rather than run away from it, I felt like I needed to be a part of it – in so much as understanding it, seeing it first hand and feeling the pain, the fear, the distrust – and somehow trying to rise above this and find a way out of all this to.. well… blossom from the ashes.
2. It’s too rural and removed
   Back to bend, and why we didn’t move there.  We wanted to be in a city… a bigger city but not a New-York/Chicago/Los Angeles – major city.  Portland was perfect because it was a big/small city.  It was also conviently located near rivers, mountains, the coast, seattle, etc.  Lot’s of things.  It felt more connected to the world… an international airport, an Ikea ( ^_^ ), a light-rail system, etc.
3. It would have been too easy
   One of the main reasons, for better or for worse, was that we knew people in Bend.  To some this may seem a good reason TO pick a place.  But for me, it’s not what I wanted (and safe to say, needed).  I needed to go somewhere COMPLETELY brand new.  No familiar faces, no immediate comfort zones or bubbles, no help.  I needed to establish myself, learn how to make friends, start conversations and build my confidence in myself.  The only way to do this, I felt, was to move somewhere completely new, where we didn’t know anyone.  And, almost two years in, I would say, it’s worked.  I feel light years ahead of where I was at, confidence-wise, when we moved up here.  I do not feel scared or anxious having conversations with new people.  I feel like I am living my life, and not a life where I am following in shadows of people I think are “cooler” than myself.  I feel like Portland is MY town, and not a town I moved to because so-and-so said it was cool to live here (that doesn’t mean YOU (if you’re reading this) shouldn’t move here because I tell you you should! ^_~)… it’s a town Robin and I got to  know on our own, we’re carving our path here and that feels so great.

So why write this post?

Well, I think I just needed to hash out these feelings.  If anyone reads this and it annoys them, sorry – I’m sure half the things I feel and think throughout my life are annoying to many people.  This blog is 50% me getting things out, and 50% putting them out publicly because I care what people think of my opinions and feelings.

Bend, you are a great town and you are leading the way for sustainable living (sort of)… but you are not my town, and that’s ok.  Friends in Bend, I love you.  Seriously, I need you… coming out there helps me breathe.

Portland, this is the land I have sunk my feet into and will continue to establish myself here, learning the ways of the rainy-city.  I’m excited for the next year here… to see what new things I learn, new people I meet, and new experiences my family has.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

When there is chaos, too often we lose control and allow others hurt to hurt us and we join in the chaotic discord.

I got home today from work and the girls were just getting ready to go down for their nap.  Usually Robin has them napping when I get home, but today she took them out for lunch and was a little late coming home.  No big deal, but it meant that now I had to get the girls to bed – which would be hard since they were excited to see me.

Maya was standing in her crib screaming (not sad screaming. just short little happy yelps) and Amalea was responding by sitting half naked on her bed throwing her feet into the air and rolling around.  It was pretty much chaos.  I knew I had a tough road ahead.

Not to mention that each time I told Amalea to put her head on her pillow, she replied sharply “No!  I don’t want to!  No!”  That was in between long sets of screaming and crying because she did NOT want to go to sleep.

After I got done giving Maya her bottle, I put Maya in her crib and let her stand there yelping for a few more minutes, and I turned my attention on Amalea.  At this point I had three choices:

1. Freak out. Force her to lie down, get angry and be strong with her, threatening to take away toys and basically getting her to nap out of fear.
2. Ignore her, leave her to cry in her bed and hope she just falls asleep.
3. Give her a hug.

I went with number 3.  She fought me a little at first, but I just held her close and told her I loved her and it was ok.  I explained that she was crying because she was so tired, and if she just lay down and close her eyes she would feel so much better.  Then I put her head down on her pillow and brushed her hair away from her forehead and told her how much I loved her.  She was calm, and began to relax.

Then I got up and could focus on Maya. It didn’t take long until they were both breathing slowly and asleep and I snuck out of the room quietly.

In that moment of chaos, it is so easy to just lose all rational and lose it.  But if I could just see clearly, I would realize that my little girl was just super tired, and just needed a big hug and to be comforted and to know that I see her, I hear her, and I love her.

I think in a much more subtle way the same thing is true with all people.  When their is violence or anger, stress or frustration, it is very hard to see the person for who they are and to see their needs.  What we see is something frustrating, or something that makes us angry.  We want revenge, or justice – but we fail to see what is really going on.  Sometimes all we need is a hug.   What most people need is to know that you see them, you acknowledge their pain, their suffering, their loneliness, their hurt, their fear… they need physical arms to wrap around them and release the anxiety, anger, and weariness.

When there is chaos, too often we lose control and allow others hurt to hurt us and we join in the chaotic discord.

May we be bigger than the madness at hand, may we be able to breath slowly in turmoil and stress, and see each others insides – the let-downs, the late nights, the broken hearts, the abandoned and lonely.  May we reach out our arms and embrace the broken, and may we, the broken, stop shouting and reach out our arms and allow those who love us to hold us close.

We do a lot of staring at lights, don’t we.  Computer screens, ipods, cell-phones, tv’s… it’s like staring into the sun.  We’re all nuts, you know.

I used to preach against busyness when I was a Pastor.  I used to believe that it was possible to slow down.  I would get all up-in-arms about parents who worked too hard and never had time for their kids  And now… I barely have time for my kids.  Frick.

And why?  Am I trying to make my first million?  Come on.  Not even close. I’m just trying to put food on the table.   Do I feel like I need to prove something to my wife, my dad, or myself?  Not really… if I could I would not work – I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks.  I’d rather spend time with my family. I had a really nice setup before… working at a church… why did I leave?  Why did I choose to enter “crazy” world?  Why am I here?

God?  You there?

It’s a good question… why, that is.  Why did we move?  Why am I doing web design right now?  Why choose to live this way?  Yet, it’s a crappy question because I don’t feel like I chose any of this.  The reason we moved is because I was feeling completely overwhelmed with the feeling like I had to get out of that town.  And I did have to get out of that town.  I didn’t have a choice.  If I stayed there, I would have gone insane, literally.  In fact, half the people in that town are crazy (no not you).  I saw it and I had to get out…

Jeez… I’m rambling again. Sorry. Another boring post with me reflecting on my life right now, trying to make heads and tails as to what the hell is going on.  Let me flip the coin again.

I’m so happy right now.  I am.  A deep-seeded contentment that can not be denied, no matter how grey the day, or how depressed I feel on any given basis.  I am happy.  Things are super hard, I’m tired, my body hurts, like I said – the days feel like battles.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.  And I know, in the sweat, in the tears, in the kicking and screaming – there is something going on.  Something I can not understand or fully comprehend yet.  But I moved to Oregon on hope and a prayer… knowing that in the darkness, somewhere, there was a new path.  I could be way off right now… but I have hope that Robin and I and the girls are right where we are suppose to be.  We are like infants in the arms of God, not understanding the grasp but being transformed by it.  (Peter Rollins said that).  When I hold Maya, I know she doesn’t understand who I am… why I keep kissing her and hugging her – but it’s changing her.  She’s growing, and when it’s hard and she has to scream because nothing else feels right except TO scream, I hold her, and she is changed in the comfort.

In these crazy times… when the only thing that feels like it makes sense is to scream, I am trying to stare into the lights… to listen to the inaudible movements of my loving God, and hope that we are being transformed in all this.

Christmas… almost forgot it’s about Jesus’ birth.  Mary and Joseph must have felt like this… bewildered.  What the frick is going on?  Mary is pregnant (nobody really knows by who), the government is going nuts, it’s cold, there’s no room in the freakin’ inn, they keep having these freaky dreams about crazy angels and stuff… and then, they have the kid in a stable – in all the shit and everything – they HAVE A KID IN A STABLE… that alone would be enough to break anyone.  And then all these crazy wacked out farm / shepherd people show up and say they are having crack dreams too and want to worship this child as their king, their God.  Seriously?  That’s stressful.  Christmas is a STRESSFUL time… and yet, it is the birth of hope.  It is the birth of peace.  It is the birth of new life… a new way…

I love Christmas, when it’s not being bought and sold.  I love the story…not about Saint Nick or Rudolph, or the elves, or snowmen and gift giving… the story of a man and his soon to be wife, running around, bleary-eyed, staring into lights, battling everyday just to survive, not even knowing what is in store for them.  Even if it is just a story, it’s a damn good story.

Our star is shining on top of the Christmas tree… the star Amalea picked out at Fred Meyers for 8.99.  it’s beautiful.  This life is beautiful… how beautiful is your life?  Seriously.  Stop and stare into the lights… remember something.

Merry Christmas.

My grandma on my dad’s side is turning 90 in February, so I am putting together a special slideshow for her. I just received a bunch of photos from my uncle, and I spent half an hour pouring over them in awe.

I had no idea.

There is so much I do not know about my Grandma, my dad and my entire extended family. Our family was never good at telling stories… or maybe I was never good at listening?

Or maybe we become interested in our families history just at the moment when it might be too late. Not sure.

Maya is such a beautiful little baby.  I love her so much.

As far as babies go, she is so calm and amiable.  She makes little grunting noises as she eats, and then let’s out these huge, satisfying burps when she’s done.  She has these piercing eyes which look deep into my soul… and I know she doesn’t fully understand who I am, but as I stare into those little blue eyes, I see SO much.

I see my mom.  Whose hands are so careing and who has given so much of herself for me and my siblings over the years.  My mom, as I see it, lives in the shadows – never demanding attention or recognition, but fully deserving it.  She is 100% love… and I love her for showing me what that means (and costs).  As I hold Maya, I see my mom in her, and it makes me smile.

A few strands of Maya’s soft fluffy hair move back and forth as we rock, and it shimmers the slightest tint of red – and I think of Robin.  Who has worked so hard to make this family what it is today – from her days teaching and supporting us financially, to her days mothering, now, which pushes her to the brink of insanity.  I am so thankful to have found in Robin the person who makes me strong, who pushes me firmly along, and who touches me so gently that it restores me.  She is the beauty of this family, and the link that holds us all together.  She is fair, and trusting, loving and giving.  As I look at Maya’s beautiful face, I see Robin in her, and it makes me smile.

Maya falls asleep and we rock for a while.  Eventually, Robin and Amalea come home and I hear Amalea sprinting down the hallway.  “Daddy!  Daddy!”  Every time Maya smiles I see Amalea in her, so full of joy just like her sister… so eager to explore the world around her, so excited to learn… just like their daddy.  I see Amalea in Maya, and it makes me smile.

The truth is… I see so much of my family and Robin’s family, myself and Robin, in Maya AND Amalea… and it both warms me and freaks me out.  The good, the bad, and the ugly… but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

As I sat rocking with Maya, I was reminded of the fragility of life, and how the ones I love will not be with me forever.  I was charmed by my baby girl, and the fact that she represents so many people’s journey in this life…so much history. My young parents deciding to have a fourth child (me).  Robin’s parents deciding to let their little girl go to Azusa Pacific University.  My Grandparents raising my mom and dad the way they did.  My lung collapsing, causing me to finally decide to go to a real college, and meet the girl of my dreams.  It’s all played out in those little eyes, with each breath, she breaths a story millions of words long, full of billions of breaths.

I love little Maya Louise so much.

I’m sick today.  I think I have the flu.  Tempature, body aches, chills, headache, etc.  So I am quarentined to my room until I get better.  It’s HELL.  To be at home, and hear my girls just a room away but not be able to be there, to laugh and to play, to give hugs when the tears come… it’s awful!  I can’t stand not being able to see my girls… I don’t understand parents who send their kids away to boarding school, or who stay at work extra long because they dread going home…

Yes, it is tirering.  Yes, it can be draining at times.  Yes, sometimes you just want to get away.  But being sick has reminded me of one thing, I can’t live without being a part of my girls lives.  They are everything to me, and I know I am everything to them, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some people are meant to do great things.  Explorers, doctors who discover new cures, musicians who create beautiful music, actors who tell great stories, Presidents who speak for the people… and me?  I am meant to be a father.  Perhaps my daughters will grow up to do “great” things… or perhaps they will grow up and learn what it means to love your children, and become amazing mothers (like their mother).

I’m not ashamed to say that we are in counseling.  Receiving counsel is essential for a healthy marriage (and a healthy life).  Sometimes we go blind, and we need a discerning pair of eyes to tell us what we can’t see… and help us see together how we can be better to ourselves and to each other.

It has been really good so far, and I am eager to see how what we are learning in our sessions translates to our mariage and to our lives.

Personally, the counselor has brought up some interesting points for me.

1. I don’t think people like me

I have always had a hard time making friends.  Well, that’s not neccissarily true.  I would say, I have a hard time in new situations making friends right away.  It takes a long time for me.  In fact, sometime in the middle of my high school years, I discovered that each new school year, it took a few months of being forced to stay in the same room with people I don’t know, before I felt comfortable to speak and start to develop friendships.

I always associated this to me just being me.  I am shy.  I am not very outgoing.  I am an intrevert.  But the crazy thing is… get me around people I am comfortable with – and I am far from shy, I am very outgoing, and I actually really love being around friends.  So what gives?

Well… I don’t think people like me.  I walk into a new situation and immediately decide that I am not a very cool person.  I have nothing good to say and everyone is immediately judging me.

There are many potential reasons why this is, which I won’t get into.  But I realize now… it’s not true.  My reality is made up in my head… and if I just felt comfortable right off the bat in new situations, I would have NO trouble making friends and participating in a group.

2. I’m afraid to be vulnerable

This is not what you might think… obviously, me writing this stuff is a sign that I do not try and cover up anything in my life.  I put it all out there… the facts at least; the data.  Sit down with me and I will tell you ANYTHING about myself or my life… but I will not show emotion.

Why?  I cried a lot when I was a kid, and when I was a teenager.  I was very sensitive and felt a lot of emotion.  I was emotionally scarred and I teetered on the edge of unstable most of the time.  Because of this, I got made fun of by my family and sometimes friends, and was given a hard time for being soft.  Eventually, I just shut down.

I can remember a confrontation with my dad when I was in college… where everything that was deep down just erupted, and it got REALLY intense.  There was a lot of yelling, but nothing really got resolved.  I think that was the last time I really felt anything, and really cried.  After that, I just shut down – because it was easier not to feel, because then I could not get hurt.

I did not do it on purpose… it was my survival mode.  I could not go on feeling so much pain and emotion… I had to guard myself from being hurt again… so I shut down.  I put up the walls and dried up the lakes of tears.

Ever since then… I have been terrified of being emotional.  Whether it’s in church, or in counseling – becoming emotional feels strange to me, fake, and unsafe.

And yet it is this very thing that is causing me to distance myself from the ones I love.  Not just Robin, but my friends and family as well.

I need to find my sensitive side again, and realize that although most people will not understand my sensitivity or my emotion, that does not mean it is wrong. It is ok to cry.  I am still a man… I am still respectable.

I am learning how that works.  How to tear down these walls and allow the world to see my heart again.  I feel like freakin’ Adam and Eve in the garden… I’ve seen my nakedness (my emotions) and I just want to hide.  But I was made perfect the way I am… and I need to respect myself and find myself again.

3. I am part of the problem

If you asked me why we are in counseling, I would probably say it is because both Robin and I have some stuff we need to work through so that we can communicate better and be better parents, partners, and lovers.  But deep down, if I was honest, I don’t blame myself that much.  I’m an arrogant bastard and I think I am always right.  I hate that, because I despise that about people.

I need to find the areas in which I am falling short… in which I am blinded to my own role for causing hurt and making things hard on my family.  I need to take responsibility for my shortcomings and not blame others so much.  I am not perfect… not at all.

4. Life is really, really good

Like I said at the beginning of this post, sometimes we go blind.  I went blind. Having two kids, moving to a new state, making new friends, starting a new career, re-establishing your faith… that will cause some blindness – fatigue if nothing else.  I have needed this counsel to see clearly again… and although I still feel like there are some areas that are hidden to me right now, I am hopeful that things will start to make sense again soon.

Life is really good.  I have a wonderful wife who is willing to push through hard times and keep her chin up and continue to love me and figure this al out.  I have two BEAUTIFUL daughters whom I would die for… and who I am so eager to see grow up and find their calling.  I live in the most beautiful state/city in the entire world (that’s pretty biased, I know).  I have made some pretty incredible friends up here, whom I never expected to meet but am so thankful I did, and who are apart of a community which I love.

Sometimes I look back… especially when times are hard.  But there is so much to look forward to, it’s time to stop glancing backwards and focus on today.

(The pictures in this post, most of the time, have little to nothing to do with what is being said around them… they are here to fill the gaps and to give you a glimpse into our life in Oregon… enjoy!)

The photo to the left was the first taken on Oregon soil.  We were, indeed, all smiles.  Leaving California was hard because of all of our great friends, and all of the youth group kids we were leaving behind from the church I worked at.  But Oregon was a breath of fresh air, literally.

Robin had nailed down a teaching job at a Jr. High and we were able to find a condo semi-near the city and semi-near her work.  Our dear friends, Danny and Andy Richards, helped us with the move.  Danny is a fireman (and ex-mover) who packs a U-Haul like it’s nobody’s business, and we are eternally indebted to him for all that he did in getting us here.  The man’s a beast… seriously.  He taught me a lot about being prepared on long trips, packing, and how duct tape can pretty much fix anything (although sometimes you need plastic ties).  Anyway, we finally made to Oregon with the help of Maggie (our new navigational system that would be invaluable during the first months here… Portland’s a tough place to navigate at first!) and after a few wrong turns in some sketchy neighborhoods, we were turning into our little mountainside (more like hillside) community of condos: Red-Tail Canyon… err, something like that.  It was… ok.  We were just so happy to be in Oregon and to begin exploring Portland!  The Condo was nice, it seemed peaceful, and the best part was – there was a forest behind it!  Literally, out our back door… it felt SO different from California, and that felt SO good.

Looking back on those first few months in Oregon, it feels almost surreal.  It wasn’t long until Fall set in and the leaves changed colors and began to fall and blanket the parks and streets with a thick layer of magical orange, yellow, and reds.  I will always have a thick memory in my head of that first Fall in Oregon.  So many life altering things happened.

Finding God, Again

The first and probably most substantial, was that we found a church to go to.  When we first got up here, we (well, I should say, I) were in no hurry to go to Church.  I have to admit, it was nice to actually just sit around on Sunday morning with family and rest.  I needed that.  But after about three or four weeks, it was time to find a church community.  We tried Imago Dei first because, well, why not.  Donald Miller and his writings were a huge factor in us coming up here (for me at least) and he went to Imago Dei, so might as well try it out right?  Actually, Robin went alone one week and said it was ok, not great, but ok – so I came with the following week and we tried it together.

I think we left early.

(top right clockwise: Amalea at the park, Amalea with Ron’s sunglasses in Bend, Daddy and Ami on the bike, Happy Valley Park)

I don’t know… it wasn’t bad – but it just felt too similar.  You know.  You walk in, everyone is sitting in theater seating facing a big stage up front where a super hip band was playing old hymns in a super hip way and mixing in some modern worship songs… then a series of people make their way to the stage, get the mic, and share their shpeel about what the church is all about, how much they are doing in the community, upcoming events, yada yada. As it happens, I think we showed up on a Sunday where the regular Pastor wasn’t even speaking… and after about 40 minutes I was ready to leave.  Not to mention we got called into the kids room because Amalea pooped majorly and had a rash.  I think that was God telling us, get the hell out. Now.  So we did. We went home.

I was a little disappointed.  As far as I knew, that was suppose to be the “Emergent” church in Portland… and I couldn’t imagine there were any more progressive churches out there.  I mean, Oregon, it’s 99% conservative / evangelical / white churches… and this was my 1% and it felt, well, stale.  I was really bummed.  Part of the reason to come to Oregon was to hopefully find a church community who were thinking outside of the box and where spiritual formation and exploration were encouraged, not looked down on.

So we went home and opened up our “Moving to Portland” book, thumbed to the “Emergent Churches” section, and looked down the list of three… yep, three… churches.  Imago Dei.  Check.  Evergreen?  Let’s check the website.  Hmm…. promising.  They meet in a pub?  For sure.  And so we decided to check it out.

(top right clockwise: Amalea and her pumpkin, Robin and Ami at the patch, Oregon Skies x2)

Evergreen Community

The minute we walked into The Lucky Lab Pub (a.k.a Evergreen Community – on Sundays) I knew we were suppose to be there.  It just felt right.  And I don’t mean that a big sun beam shown down on us when we walked in, or I got all tingly and warm, or even that I heard God’s Spirit telling me this was it… no, not really.  I mean, we walked in, we walked three or four steps, assessed the situation, and immediately two people were standing there greeting us, welcoming us, explaining Evergreen to us.  And it wasn’t… you know, “church greeters”.  Here was this young kid, Clay, and this middle age man, Chip, shaking our hands and asking us about who we were.  It didn’t feel fake.  It didn’t feel forced.  It felt right… it felt like these were people who really cared about this couple and their kid who probably look totally uncomfortable and scared.  It was brilliant.  And we fit right in.

(Left to Right: Amalea watching me “do my best” on my mom’s accordion, Ami and me on the Scooter)

It wasn’t long until we attended our first community dinner, where everyone in the community (go to their website if you want to learn more about Evergreen… if you don’t already go there ^_~) brings some food and just hangs out.  In October, we went to the pumpkin patch with the church… and we slowly began to make friends. I could go on and on about Evergreen… but that’s another story for another day (or at least, further down this post).

To work, or, to WORK

I thought I worked pretty hard when I was a youth pastor.  The days were pretty long and it could get exhausting at times.  But NOTHING could prepare me, and NOTHING compares, to being a full-time parent.  When we first got to Oregon, I did not have a job.  And so I stayed home with Amalea and took care of her, the best I could.  I don’t regret it, it was what I needed.  Time with my first daughter.  Time to explore Portland.  Time to enjoy life again.  But it was very hard.  Some of you will know what I mean (I know you do, Robin) when I say that one of the hardest things to do in life, is stop working when you are so used to having a job.  I got my first job when I was 18 – and pretty much worked up until last year when we moved up here.  To all of the sudden stop working, it’s a weird feeling.  Sure, being a parent is a job, and a full-time no rest EVER job… but it’s different.  It’s exhausting.  It’s ungratifying (or at least it’s a different type of gratification).  And it forces you, to think and think and think and think and think.  Because the minutes drag on… and you sing Itsy-Bitsy ten thousand times, and your constantly entertaining – but it feels like you’re alone, and it feels like all you can do is think, and think, and think.  And in the end, you overthink things, you become depressed and lonely, or at least you think you are because you’ve thought about it so much.  In this case, I began to seriously miss everyone from California, and second guess the move up here.  This was looking harder than I thought – and I needed to figure out what I was going to do… for a career!

When we first got up here, I interviewed for a job at an after-school program at this Catholic school in NW Portland.  I pretty much got the job, but backed out at the last minute.  I don’t know… I just had a BAD feeling about it.  It barely paid anything, was going to be SUPER stressful, a lot of work, and I would be away from my family more than I wanted to be.  Not to mention it sort of conflicted with Robin’s school schedule, and we hadn’t thought about day-care.

(Left to Right: Ami and me at the Zoo in the fall, Winter Snow Storm!)

Little did we know at the time, but just down the street from our Condo was a place called Portland Wiz Kids.  I kept driving by it, and finally I decided I would check out their website.  Actually, I think it was that Robin had heard they were hiring after-school teachers to teach computer classes.  I was all about that.  So I checked it out.  Turns out they had a day-care, right there at the facility down the street from our place, and I could leave Amalea there while I taught these classes.  It wasn’t much, but the pay was decent and it seemed like fun.  So I did it.

I taught computer programming to Jr. High kids in Lake Oswego.  It was… well, it was fun.  Remember what I said about always remembering that first fall in Oregon – well teaching these classes was a big part of that.  I’d drop Amalea off around 1 in the afternoon, and drive the 45 min – 1 hour to Lake Oswego, through the changing leaves of autumn, catching glimpses of Mt. Hood in all it’s glory along the way, occasionally (ok, often) wading my way through the rain, dragging a carton of laptops to teach kids programming using animation software.  It was great.  And Amalea LOVED day-care.  She got to play with babies and the adults while I was working, and then Robin would come and pick her up.  We did this all Fall and part of Winter.  But in January, after a crazy December of taking on additional classes – including a Lego Robotics class that was the equivalent of trying to create peace in the middle east – anyway, in January I started a new job: web design.

And now… my new life.

Synotac web design.  I think they were third or fourth in the google results for “Portland Web Design”.  I clicked a bunch of them to see what their sites looked like.  I had been tinkering with web design since High School, and I figured it was something I liked doing, thought I did well, and figured it was a worth a try.  Synotac’s site looked pretty good… so I contacted them, sent them my portfolio link, and waited.  Not too long after that, I got a reply from the President, Cameron Madill.  He said that one of their employees checked out my site and thought it looked really good, and we should chat.  He said, although they were not hiring, they might have some contract work in the near future, and it would be good to see if I was a good fit for that.

(Left to Right: Ami at Canon Beach, Ami feeding the ducks)

I met Cameron at Stumptown Coffee (my first time going to coffee downtown).  He came across as an intelligent entrepreneur who knew what he was talking about and liked my style.  He also liked Soccer… a big plus.  Anyway, we met and talked web stuff, and then he took my up to the office and introduced me to the staff.  I still remember walking into our downtown office loft and marveling that people worked at such a cool place.  I also remember feeling really awkward – I’ve never had a REAL web design job before, let alone a REAL job in general!  But I put on my best business face and played the part.  It was about a month later that Cameron called and said they had some work for me… so I went in, and did my best.

That was January of this year… by about March, I got a raise.  By about May they brought me on part time – 28 hours a week.  By June, I was full-time.  Now I am a vital organ in the beating heart that is Synotac Web Design… working 40+ hours a week, and diving head first into the web world.

Did I mention I work FULL-FREAKING-TIME now?  Yes, it’s not my first full-time job. Yes, I was a Youth Pastor.  But I can’t begin to explain to you the differences… being a Youth Pastor is like being a freelancer… a contract worker.  You basically make your own hours (except for when you have services of course, or trips)… you work when it’s convenient, and if something comes up – especially family stuff – it’s expected you go and be present.  Take care of yourself and your family FIRST, then the job.  Not in the big world my friend – not in the big f’ed up world.

Well – hold on. To be fair, Synotac is not QUITE a FULL-FREAKING-TIME job like some people have.  The Madills’ (the family who started Synotac, Cameron, the president, Bill, Cameron’s dad, the co-owner, and Cat, Cameron’s sister, Bill’s daughter, fellow programmer) are SUPER awesome and chill, and they run their company with a similar mentality as the church – if you, the employee, are not doing well – the company is not doing well.  So take care of yourself and your family.  And they have been super great about being flexible with me, especially when Maya was born about a month ago and since then (because I’ve been super tired and things have come up).

(Left to Right: Ami and me in the snow, Woodstock Park)

So, I’m not complaining in the least… I’m just trying to emphasize that things are… well, normal.  I am the husband and I work this full-time job where I am gone a good chunk of the day.  Robin is the stay-at-home mom who is slowly going crazy because she has a two-year-old and a new baby to watch after, and a husband that is barely present (that’s not fair to myself… I am VERY present, when I am here…).  It’s that traditional family model – and we were never the traditional family model… and it’s hard.

Life, right now, for the past year, has been… hard.  SUPER hard.  Harder than it ever has been.  Having a kid is hard enough.  Having a kid, quitting both your jobs, moving to a brand new place where you know NO ONE, starting new jobs, making new friends, and then having ANOTHER kid… that’s just crazy-talk.  But we’re doing it.  We made the choice to come up here… in our heads, we burnt the ships and we are not going back (I say in our heads, because we actually still own our house in California and we COULD move back if we wanted to).

So has it been worth it.  Is it worth it?  Will we stay?

Yes. and Yes.

(It’s official)

There are moments, when I remember the freedom and the gratification of my old life… that I want to go back.  There are dark clouds and sleepless nights full of tears.  There are fights and misunderstandings.  There is a tired I have never known before now.  There are new responsibilities and a career/life I never thought I’d fall into… There is a loop of pictures on our computer from Youth Trips that brings tears to my eyes, that makes me laugh, that makes me believe SO strongly in love and God and why I got into Youth Ministry…

… and yet, we belong here.

(Left to Right: Ami and me – stuck in the van after running out of gas on the way to day-care, Erin McGee and Ami at Sauve Island Farm)

We belong here.

Surrounded by kids who loved us – we felt alone in California.  Surrounded by a church who supported us, I felt out of place.

When something isn’t right, and you feel it, you have to fix it.

I had to get away.  I had to leave those streets and that life-style.  Our kids need to be raised in the trees… in the rivers and mountains of Oregon.  Robin and I need a community of people our age who are having kids and struggeling through similar things.  I need to experience the world, as it really is, on the streets – so to speak – to taste the pain of waking up early every morning and marching off to work to pay the bills, to feed my family, to give life to my kids.  I am beginning, just beginning, to understand what it means to be a father… to be a husband… to be a man who FOLLOWS God into the dark holding tight to HOPE and LOVE and that is all.  Robin and I need to struggle through our shit, and find each other again.  We need to let go of comfort and find that in the struggle, in the tension, and in the sacrifice, there is a substance that is like NOTHING else on this green planet… there is LIFE like no reality show can depict… there is LOVE so deep and rich and pure that it can not be explained or touched or even felt, it just IS.  And all of this comes… here, in this new strange foreign place.  Oregon, it is our home now.  And this is our life now.

(Amalea on her first big-girl camping trip!  And our first camping trip, in general, in Oregon!)

It will not always be this way – me working full time doing web design, Robin staying at home.  She will go back to teach, and I may get into teaching someday as well… but for now, we are raising our babies, we are living in community, we are sharing the well, we are growing in who we are and in our marriage, we are learning how to be better friends, lovers, and children of God and children of this world.

We have so far to go… and yet, for the first time in a long time, I feel like we are where we are suppose to be, and that is spectacular.

(Maya Louise Krill – Green is DEFINITELY her color, just like her daddy!)

Last summer, Robin and I packed our things, said goodbye to Moorpark, CA, and moved to Portland, OR.  It has been over a year since we moved… and I think I am finally ready to reflect on this journey.  There are many roadblocks in front of me as I embark in painting this picture of the last 14 months.  I want to paint a masterpiece, not that I think what we have been through is beautiful or interesting or even worth reading about, but I miss writing things that actually make sense.  This may seem like I am being deflating or negative, but really I am just being honest as I have never felt so tired than I do right now.  A new baby, a full time job, and a new city… but I am not out of this, and so I am attempting to breath life back into what I know is a year FULL of meaning.

I want to begin by reflecting back on how things used to be… before we moved to Portland.

My Old Life

(Mexico House Building Trip, 2006)

I was a Youth Pastor.  I worked for a Christian Church in Southern California as a Youth Pastor, guiding Jr. High and High School kids through life, trying to teach them about God, Jesus, Science, Philosophy, Serving, Sexuality, Friendship, etc.  There were about 15 kids in the Jr. High group and maybe 30 in the High School group.  I was really close to a handful of them.  My weeks started on Monday, staff meeting from 10-12, usually a lot of joking around, discussing what was going on in each of the small staff’s ministries, sharing plans for the upcoming weeks and months, and praying for each other, the congregation and the church in general.  Tuesday night was High School youth group, followed by Jr. High group on Thursday night.  Occasionally on Monday nights we had Feed My Sheep, an outreach through my church which fed meals and handed out groceries to local families who were struggeling financially.  Our youth groups would prepare and serve the meal once a month.  Monday afternoons, after going out to lunch with the staff (I loved Monday lunches) were spent preparing for bible study on Tuesday night, as was most if not all of Tuesday.  On Tuesday and Thursday, I’d usually roll into work around 10, letting myself sleep in (pre-Amalea days) because it usually was a late night.

High School Bible Study

High School bible study consisted of getting to know high school kids, some of which really were interested in this whole God thing, others who were just looking for something to do on a weeknight.  We hung out for the first half hour or so, and then we killed the lights and fired up the worship band.  I lead the band along with a group of High School kids, some of whom I taught to play during a summer music program, and we would jam through 5 or 6 songs… sometimes really nailing it and it was really energetic and awesome.  Other times it was quite the struggle to get through 6 songs – and it felt like a marathon.  After worship, we would gather on a group of couches and I would introduce a topic and we would begin to open up the mysteries of the universe… I would try and tie in relevant topics to make it interesting for the kids, but I was more interested in stretching their view of the world and of God and of their existence… so many times I would using RadioLab (a scientific podcast our of New York Public Radio, really amazing stuff) to blow their minds and get them questioning everything they knew and believed… from there we would dig into the mysteries of the Bible… of Jesus and his crazy message, and what it means to live differently than this crazy Southern Californian suburban society.

(Myself and Marty Milligan)

Some bible studies were really great… others were really draining and it was frustrating to hear over and over the drama of high school.

Jr. High

Wednesday’s were a day to rest and begin preparing for Thursday nights… Jr. High bible study.  Everyone would always say how crazy I was to work with Jr. Highers… sometimes I understood what they were saying – but most of the time I thought they were crazy.  Jr. High – being 11-13, is a fascinating age.  It’s a time of awkwardness, anxiety over really stupid things, discovering of your social life, your “coolness” or lack thereof, and your body (and others of course).  It’s this crazy, messed up, potentially really hard time for most kids… and I hated that – but it is what drove me to try and aliviate that for some kids if I could.  I loved being there for kids… when everyone else looked at them and saw a crazy, hyper, incoherent teenager – I saw a confused budding adult who was just trying to make sense of it all.  Sure, it got on my nerves when a 12 year old would interrupt me in the middle of every other sentence to tell me how I was wrong, or what they did last night, or how Family Guy really is the best show ever… but in the end, I loved it and I was just as fragmented as they were and I think I really connected with them because I could go from tangent to tangent and then bring it all home and make sense of it somehow.  And that is just what they needed… someone to make sense of it all… someone to tie together all the loose strings in their life and help them realize they are NOT crazy, and they ARE very special.

(Carly and Jonah)

Thursday nights were always insane.  We would play games, hang out and talk, and then try – and I really mean TRY – to have some sort of conversation or study about God and the bible, or just about life and all the questions they had about friendships, dating, sex, sexuality, etc.  Some nights the conversations were REALLY interesting. I was continuously blown away by the things these “teenagers” would bring up and were dealing with in their life.  I learned a lot from them… and to this day, I will take on anyone who says that Jr. Highers are a waste of time and are uneducatable (I know, that’s not a word).

The Weekends

I would usually take Fridays off… because Sundays were a work day.  So Friday and Saturday were days off.  This was actually quite AMAZING.  Especially before Amalea.  Robin was a teacher, which would mean Fridays I had the day all to myself.  I could sleep in, drive to the beach or go to the Gardens of the World, take a book and just get lost in thinking about life, the world, God, Religion, etc.  It was wonderful.

Sundays were church.  Sundays were draining… way more draining than any other day.  Usually I would go to both services… the first one I would sit in the main congregation, and the second one I would lead the kids (sometimes Jr. High, sometimes High School).  After church we would go to Toppers Pizza, a local pizza shop with an INCREDIBLE salad bar.  Sunday evenings were peaceful… sometimes we would have kids over for a barbecue, sometimes we would go out to eat, sometimes we would just do nothing.

Beyond the Weekly Grind

(New Orleans, 2006)

Other than that weekly grind, occasionally we would take mission trips or have weekend outings.  In the Spring we had yearly trips down to Mexico to build houses for a week, where we would camp out under the stars, take outdoor showers with 2 gallon water jugs, and sing songs around a camp fire.  In the Winter we would do a snow boarding trip up to Mammoth for a long weekend.  In the Summers, we either did week long camps (where we would do random things around Southern California) or we would take a mission trip.

(Clockwise from Top-Left: Peru 2008, Keyna 2006, Mexico 2006, New Orleans 2006)

In the time I was at the church, I had the opportunity to go to Ecuador, Chile, Kenya, New Orleans (to do Post-Katrina clean-up), and I even got to lead a trip to Peru in 2008.  There were also the annual Jr. High all-nighter – which is just like it sounds… a whole night of wacky/zany fun with super hyper sugar-high-horny teenagers… those were some long nights.  Let’s see… Broom-Ball was a big hit, Super Soccer Sunday, Joshua Tree camping weekends, retreats to the mountains… all sorts of stuff.

(Marty [left] and Me [right])

And that was my life… well, my work life at least.

Other Tid-Bits from Our Old Life

Robin and I owned a house in Moorpark on a super quiet street, two doors down from a small HOA community park.  We had a big tree in the backyard that provided some great shade in the summertime, a raised vegetable garden I built, and a fire-pit, which I also built in the back yard.  We had great neighbors (although we didn’t talk to them much) and I’ll always remember the walks Robin and I would take around the quiet (and I mean QUIET) neighborhood.

(House in Moorpark, CA)

I made 40k a year, as did Robin (roughly) – and my schedule was SUPER flexible.  When Amalea was born, I would stay home until Robin got home from teaching (around 1pm) and then I would go in and work.  I made every doctor appointment, and days when I was too tired to go in, I could study and work from home.  It was a tiring job – but it was also super peaceful and restful.  (I know that now… I did not think that then)

Well… that was then.  In my next installment, I plan on contrasting that with what life has been like for the last year and is like now.  I hope to make sense of the decision to move up here… to see how God has shaped me (and my family) and what is in store for the future.  I may add more to this post in my posts to come… as it is late and I am beyond tired right now.  Having two kids is SUPER hard on Robin, she is doing a great job keeping her head above the waves… and it’s not easy for me either.  Having a full-time job and trying to be present in the lives of my children and my wife is harder than I ever could have imagined… but it’s worth it.

To Be Continued…