This morning I started going through some of the writing I did this summer that I never got around to finishing or posting.  Because that is WAY more fun than laundry and unpacking.  (I shoved all the piles into Simon’s old room and closed the door.  It is Simon’s OLD room because do you think for a minute that after he slept in the pop up camper all summer with his whole family that he is going to go back to being ALL BY HIMSELF?  I mean, before I shoved all of our junk in there, it felt a big ol’ gymnasium!)

So, at some point near the end of our journey I made my thankful list for the summer.  And I thought I should share it with you because if you are going to travel the country homeless with your family, these are the things that you really cannot live without.

1. The Pop Up

Before these amazingly wonderful people lent us their pop up camper, we were planning to live in a TENT all summer long.  Do you have any idea how completely insane that is?  It would never have worked.  I would have thrown it into the ocean.  Or I would have turned around and come home.  Or something.  Anything.  So many nights I thanked Jesus for that pop up camper that was keeping me dry and off of the ground.  I’m telling you I love that thing.

2. My zero degree sleeping bag

I stayed in it on cold mornings.  I put Simon in it with me when his little 30 degree number wasn’t cutting it.  There were many nights I pulled the drawstring around my frigid cheeks with only one little breathing hole letting the icy air in.  I’m pretty sure it saved my life maybe.

3. A few key items of clothing

The icebreakers, one of which I still wore even after it was chewed up by a mouse.  A pair of jeans I stole from my sister last year, which meant I had two pairs instead of one.  In other words I didn’t have to stand around various laundromats in my long underwear.  And a t-shirt my mom bought me after my stuff was stolen, which I wore EVERY SINGLE DAY.   Someone might soon ask me if I even own other t-shirts, and yes, now that I am home, I have many to choose from, but I am just so attached to this one.

4. My hiking boots

Yes, the boots get their own number.  I wore them almost every day.  They are warm.  They are waterproof.  They did not wear out.  What in the world would I have done without them???

5.  Bookend Condos or my saintly mother-in-law

You might remember that we got to stay in HOMES for two weeks of our summer, one towards the beginning and one towards the end. Both of these were provided by Taido’s mom, who traded time in her vacation rental for them.  So please go and stay with her in Hawaii and pay her lots of money and love for me.

6. The DS

I hate to say it, but I couldn’t have lived without it.  I really can’t stand video games, and I have trouble getting over the fact that they are a TOTAL WASTE of time and brain cells, but on the days it was revoked, riding in the car with Ben and Cole was a lot like this:

One day on the way home I had taken it away from them and my mother (who hates video games more than I do) was BEGGING me to give it back to them.

7. Guidebooks

I really like information, so I bought a lot of guidebooks this summer.  About halfway through the summer, Taido cut me off.  No more guidebooks.  But I just loved reading them while we drove through places.  I would be like, Let me tell you about the perfect place to eat in this town.  Or, the dome on that building is copper because of the neighboring copper mines.   It was like having a secret everywhere we went.  Sometimes it became annoying because I would point out all the great things we were NOT getting to do because of time or money, but for the most part I loved having the piles of information.

Sidenote: I started the summer as an avid Lonely Planet guidebook buyer but I have TOTALLY come over to the side of Moon Guidebooks because a) I think fewer lonely planet authors have children and b) they are just SOOOOO much better.

8.  Coffee

Strong coffee is a huge part of my life anyway, but on a cold morning outside, it is a NECESSITY, I tell you.  And it tastes so good!  Both Taido and Daddy understand that the way to my heart is through a cup of coffee.  Or maybe they are just trying to get me out of my zero degree sleeping bag.  Taido always made the French press before he left to study and Daddy had it made and in the cupholders before he woke me up to drag the kids and mother out of the pop up so we could drive a bazillion miles.  Again.  And this is how I know they both love me.

9.  Anne

We read a lot of books this summer, but I think I will remember this being the summer of Anne most of all.  I read the first few out loud and then Mary Polly and I kept on reading them.  We watched the movies over and over again.  And on days when I just couldn’t cope, I would be encouraged by some sweet Anne-ism.  Her love of nature was a perfect accompaniment to our being always out of doors, and her positive outlook on life was so sweetly sincere that I couldn’t be cynical in the midst of it.  Now that I am home and surrounded by reality, it sounds absurd to me, but she was my imaginary friend this summer.  And she reminded me that sometimes we need imaginary friends, even at my age.

10.  YOU!

Seriously, the last thing and the one for which I was maybe the most grateful all summer was this little connection through various computers to the readers of this blog, who were living the insanity the dream with me every time I wrote about it.  If you are going to go on a journey, you should definitely start a blog and find readers like mine who will email and comment and cheer you on and even pray for sunshine.  I am pretty sure I can attribute any bouts of sanity I had this summer to this little window of love.  So thank you!

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I am currently in the Canadian Rockies with my four children and my parents. Oh yes, Taido got a relief driver and gave us the slip so he could study without interruption for the final two weeks. So far he has missed a lot of time in the van on the road with insanely loud Chinos and several nights of setting up, camping and taking down in the rain. I know he’s really kicking himself.

On the bright side, we have seen five bears. We saw a mama bear and her two cubs climbing down from a tree. We watched them for almost half an hour. It was amazingly sweet. The kids went nuts. Even Simon was pointing excitedly.

And today, we drove the stunning Icefields Parkway from Jasper to Banff. We got enough breaks in the rain to see the glaciers and waterfalls all along the way. Mary Polly, Daddy and I even hiked the short trail up from the road to touch the toe of the Athabasca Glacier. The boys response when asked if they wanted to hike up and see a glacier, I don’t want to hike anymore. It’s too cold. Whine. Whine. My reply, Fine then. MP and I got stuck in some glacial silt. Both of her shoes came off and Daddy had to carry her back to the car. We were all covered in this gray muddy substance before it was over with. I’m not sure my poor beloved hiking boots will ever recover. Still, we touched a glacier. The path up was fascinating because it had markers where the glacier used to be according to years, showing how much it has receded since 1885 and on up to 1992. You hear about the glaciers shrinking, but it was crazy to actually see it. The markers where it used to be. It’s sad.

Actually we saw a lot of sad exhibitions today on how our lifestyle affects the earth. Lots on global warming. And then we also read a lot about the danger to the animal habitats that the throng of visitors is every year. The kids watched this sad movie about a grizzly bear whose comfort around people eventually lead to its death. And there was a book about another similar bear. I had read in my guidebook that they are trying hard to do more to protect the area’s grizzly population, and we definitely saw evidence of that today. There are trails that are closed this time of year because they are part of the grizzlies’ grazing grounds. The kids were all impacted by all the protecting animal wildlife propaganda. They are all about the plight of the bears right now. And not so much about learning the facts about glaciers, which is ahem, what I told them we were learning today.

ME: Everyone tell me three things you learned about glaciers today.
COLE: Ummmmm, I forgot already.
BEN: Glaciers are cold.
MARY POLLY: You can get your shoe stuck in the mud if you hike up to a glacier.

We are really making up for all these missed days of school, I tell you. Maybe their teachers will only ask them about bears.

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Shhh…wait, do you hear that?
Hear what?
Shhh…just listen.

Goodbye is too good a word, babe
So I’ll just say fare thee well.

I wanted to go and find that campfire and sit down, only it might just have been a little disappointing that the voice singing was not in fact, my daddy. Plus it might have been a weensy bit awkward. But still…the guitar and Bob Dylan. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard my dad sing that song around a campfire. And a million others. Now I know as I did not then understand that it was magical that he could remember every lyric to an endless list of songs that made me never want the campfire to go out as a child. Sometimes I sang along. Lots of times I just listened. I’m not exactly sure when Daddy hung up his guitar for good, but it was a sad day. And so far no one in the close circle of people with whom I camp on a regular basis has picked up the legacy of singing to me until I reek of campfire smoke.

I stood in the street until the song finished, and then I stood there a little longer with my eyes closed picturing many of the campfires I have sat around with my dad. In Colorado. On an island in Lake Ouachita. In the Smoky Mountains. Such good memories.

I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind

You could have done better but I don’t mind
You just kind of wasted my precious time
But don’t think twice, it’s alright.

Surely the sun has not set for the last time on a day when I will hear Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen songs sung around a campfire.

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Berry picking has got to be one of the greatest pastimes ever. Besides being great entertainment, the reward for your work is so great. If you love berries like I do, then you should definitely make plans to visit the Pacific Northwest the last week in July or the first week of August one year.

Before I had ever been out this way, I can remember picking puny little Arkansas blackberries with my grandparents and my grandfather boasting that where he came from, the blackberries were bigger than his thumb. He would hold up his GI-normous thumb for effect as he said it.

Even as a little girl, I thought he was exaggerating. But he was right. The berries are bigger and sweeter and more bountiful out here than in any other place in the world. I relished the berry season every summer when we lived out here, making more jars of jam than we could possibly eat in a year. I gave it to every one I knew.

Over the past couple of weeks, when it has not been raining, we have been picking berries. We have now picked strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and marionberries. A couple of weeks ago I went to a farmers’ market with my friend in Oregon and we bought a mixed flat of berries, which our two families promptly devoured. Then she let me trash her kitchen making blackberry pies with blackberries that the kids picked on the side of the country road on which she and her family live. You can’t imagine how good that pie tasted to me. Blackberry pie is my favorite dessert on earth, and I haven’t made a pie all summer, so it was with great delight that I rolled crust and zested lemons along with the army of little helpers I had all around me.

Last week while we were camping in Birch Bay, we limited ourselves to picking only 10 pounds of berries at a time. We learned our lesson with the strawberries back in June.

It takes us about 2 days to devour 10 pounds, and then we go back for more.

If we aren’t picking berries, we are buying berry desserts from local bakeries: blackberry buckle bread, blueberry crumb bars, raspberry oatmeal bars, to name a few. Or we are driving by fields and fields full of berries. It just makes me so happy to see the abundance of berries.

A favorite children’s book of mine is about picking berries. If you love to pick berries, you will love Jamberry. We’ve read this book countless times!

Come to think of it, at about this time last year I was stopping to pick wild raspberries in Colorado while Taido was driving our family up a mountain. I just can’t stop myself.

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So, Taido’s been reading aloud at night for the last couple weeks instead of me. At first I wasn’t really sure why, but I thought that it might have something to do with the fact that I started a book of King Arthur Stories after the boys began to lose interest in Anne on like book number three in the series. And maybe it was just bugging Taido that I wasn’t reading all those jousting scenes with the emphasis a man might put on them. Or maybe it was that Taido really loved saying night after night, And then…he smote off his head in one blow! You should hear him say it. It’s hysterical. When he gets the book out, he usually says something like, Who’s going to lose their head tonight? And then Cole is all, Sir Kay! Sir Kay! He’s an IDIOT! I have to say though, that I am enjoying King Arthur in spite of myself. The night Taido read the legend of Tristan and Isolde, I actually cried. Their story is so beautiful. And I loved the story of Sir Gawain marrying an ugly hag out of the honor of a promise made to save King Arthur. Then his honor turns her back into her true self, a fair maiden. That night I dreamed about being turned from my current earthie hippy (read: dirty) state into a clean beautiful damsel. I woke up and I was like, I think I am dreaming about the dark ages. Which could be because I am so tired at night that I am already half asleep while Taido is reading. Or maybe it’s that sometimes our life right now kind of resembles the dark ages with regards to amenities.

But seriously, is there anything sweeter than a dad reading aloud to his kids? While we were camped in the yard of our friends in Oregon, I went inside one night to brush my teeth while Taido was reading King Arthur and I walked past our friend reading The Hobbit to his family. So sweet.

So this week, as I already mentioned, Taido went to the video store and came back with a bunch of King Arthur movies. Ah ha…his excitement over reading King Arthur revealed. He just couldn’t wait for the movie version. And I thought back to when I first started reading Anne this summer to the kids and realized that, I too, could not wait to finish Anne of Green Gables so that we could all watch the movie together. That movie is a huge part of my childhood. Watching it over and over with my sister is more than just a fond memory, it is like the essence of so much of the time we spent together. Every time Mary Polly pulls it out and watches it again in the car (with Simon), I just feel warm and fuzzy all over. I am not really sure if I will feel that way about watching adaptations of King Arthur, but Mary Polly and I are outnumbered by boys and this is one of those times that they get to win out over us.

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Things I Love About Canada: Rhubarb

Ok, I’m pretty sure Canada didn’t like invent rhubarb. In fact it isn’t even indigenous to North America, strangely enough, but Canada is where I have been lovingly introduced to this enticing vegetable, so I’m counting it as one of the things I love about Canada. Taido and I had this strawberry-rhubarb pie experience on Granville Island a few weeks ago that I have since been trying to repeat. But without actually going to Granville Island, not that I don’t want to go back. I do. I do. But it is a headache of a bus ride with all the crazies and so I’ve been settling for substitutes that haven’t been quite as good, but that do have all the children singing the praises of this red stalky vegetable. Then I found a pie on Smitten Kitchen that I am just dying to try, but of course, I don’t have all my pie baking things with me, so I will have to wait until another day when I am back in my own precious kitchen (sigh) to try this pie. But I have been so wanting to get my hands on the vegetable, so I could get to know it a little better. You know? Feel its textures. Wash it. Chop it. Play with it so we can be friends. So I bought some. And last night I made a strawberry rhubarb crisp in one of the three (yes THREE!) cast iron skillets that I brought with me, and let me tell you. It was dEEElish! The kids were scraping that skillet for the crumbs and begging for more. I might just have to make one more before we say goodbye to the oven, because it is official. One of the things we Chinos just LOVE about Canada is rhubarb.

Here’s the recipe I used for the crisp if you want to try.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp

Place in the bottom of an 8 inch cast iron skillet

1 1/2 cups chopped strawberries

1 1/2 cups chopped rhubarb

1/4 cup turbinado sugar

2 teaspoons whole wheat flour

Mix the topping ingredients below and sprinkle on top of fruit:

1/2 cup melted butter

1/2 cup thick oats

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup turbinado sugar

1/2 cup chopped nuts

Bake at 400 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream. SOOOO good.

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We’ve baked cookies, which was top on Mary Polly’s list of things to do while we have an oven. We have pulled out of our buried plastic tubs lots of the treasures I brought for the summer that are perfect for a rainy day, but that you can’t actually pull out in the rain. You can only fit so much inside a camper, so for the last weeks much of the entertainment I brought has remained in the van. We did a large jigsaw puzzle of Canada. Who knew there were so many provinces? I know I am revealing my total geographical ignorance here, but I have long been under the impression that there were like six or seven. A misconception we are correcting this week as we attempt to learn them all, and their capitals. Mary Polly is learning to cross stitch, with the same little pattern books from which I learned. I knew I saved those for a reason. She worked a good bit of the evening yesterday on a little koala bear. She keeps calling it “her patchwork,” because that is what Anne and Diana call their sewing. She loves to say, I must get back to my patchwork. She worked on it while I read Anne last night to her and three sleepy brothers. She is still sleeping late, but the boys are getting up much earlier without the cold and the rain to keep them snuggled into their bags. We have also pulled out the art supplies and lots more books. We are all spread and sprawled over this great house, and we are still in no danger of overcrowding it. Such luxury.

Still with all things pretty nearly perfect, we must have a few bumps in the road, ours currently being that Cole and I have spent the better part of the last week or so getting crossways with one another, culminating last night in my having to walk out of the room mid-sentence, leaving him alone on his bed for fear of boxing his ears or worse. When I came downstairs and told Taido that I was in danger of losing it with him, Mary Polly, seemingly enraptured with “her patchwork,” spouted from her corner, You knooooow, it’s kind of against the LAW to hit your kids, Mom!

Of course, I know that darling, that’s why I left the room. To avoid breaking the law.

Among other things. I went and spent a few minutes being quiet and breathing before going back upstairs to apologize to the little creton. We both decided to take a lesson from Anne and begin anew today. We had just read Anne’s words, Marilla, isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet? Marilla responds to Anne much like I’m afraid I would. She tells her that she’s certain she’ll fill it up with mistakes soon enough. But thank goodness that the Lord’s mercies are new every morning.

And they are. It is cloudy and colder today, which makes our presence in this house all the more a treasure. It’s wonderful to sit in a chair by the window that separates me from the elements. And we had some wonderful scones for breakfast with raspberry preserves, at Ben’s suggestion.

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I finished a book this morning that I have been slowly reading since just before I left home. It’s called Finding Our Way Again. Isn’t that a great title? It’s about restoring to our lives some of the ancient traditions of faith that have given both sanity and sacredness to so many who have gone before us. The best bit is that the entire book is an introduction to a coming series which will write about each one of these traditions individually. And the really best bit is that Phyllis Tickle is the editor of the entire series, which for me, assures that it will be good. I have just in the last year or so been introduced to her writing and I find reading her to be like coming home. Her writing draws me in like the campfire draws the children. They are practically climbing into it to feel its warmth as they hover around its edges. Phyllis Tickle’s writings turn me into that hovering, excited child, both her autobiographical writing and her spiritual writing…and there is lots of crossover between the two, which is probably why I love her so much. I so appreciate the art of seeing the sacred in the everyday. To have eyes to see the miracles that are constantly around us is a skill that I hope to one day practice as well as Ms. Tickle does.

So, the great thing about reading the book to the series that is actually just an introduction is that there is no pressure. Soon to come will be all the teaching on all the different practices, right? So for now, as I read this introduction, I am free to just drink in the hope and anticipation of the series to come. And therefore to enjoy the stories, the quotes from saints of old, the history of the threefold ancient way (I particularly enjoyed this part) and general reasoning for the reintroduction of such practices into our hearts, minds and souls. But I was convinced before I ever began this book that these practices (in particular, fixed-hour prayer, Sabbath, fasting, communion, pilgrimage, the observance of sacred seasons and giving) are habits we all desperately need in our lives. About 10 years ago, I read Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline for the first time. I was completely enraptured by this book, to the point of distraction. I immediately went about doing exactly what Richard Foster says you shouldn’t do which is to try to master all the spiritual disciplines at once and to the purpose of being able to say that you have mastered them, which is pride, which is the greatest stumbling block one can have in a faith journey. So after driving myself a bit batty, I also had toddlers, so I am to be forgiven for all lapses in sound thinking, I RE-read Celebration of Discipline and set about to digesting about one chapter a year…or less. I have since had many conversations with people who were reading Celebration of Discipline and having similar experiences to mine, where they were overwhelmed and not sure where to start or they were trying to do the whole book at once. I still think that this book is an incredible classic and should be read over and over again, slowly, deliberately, in groups and families and all sorts of communities, but I am also super excited about a new series that is going to address one discipline at a time. I imagine that to be able to focus one’s attention and energy in the reading of an entire book on one practice will be like a yoga class just on breathing. At first you are like, What! A whole hour just on breathing? And then when it’s over you’re like MORE MORE MORE, because you didn’t realize how desperately your body needed to just breathe.

The author of Finding Our Way Again writes that much of what the series will address is restoring a kind of sacred normalcy to the rhythms of life. That sounds so appealing to me. Faith isn’t a to-do list. It’s a way of life.

As I have read through this book, I have been personally struck by a couple of things. The first is how much I am longing for the practices that are communal (even though I am not naturally a super social person), which makes me more excited for the books in the series on these particular practices. I have encountered less writing on these disciplines (an entire book on communion!) than on the more inward disciplines. The second realization I have had is that I have set myself up this summer, though not intentionally, to naturally experience a lot of the more inward disciplines. Simplicity, solitude, silence, prayer. With so much stripped away, I am naturally experiencing these more. Take simplicity for example, I feel that over the years I have truly worked towards the discipline of simplicity. Richard Foster wrote an entire book on simplicity (Freedom of Simplicity) that is very practical and was an immense help to me in finding my way through this discipline without constantly beating myself up. John Piper’s teachings on simplicity have been equally influential for me. And reading The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne this spring has further renewed and refined my desire to make my life simpler. And also the lives of my children, who have to fight more than I do, the constant social demands to both do and acquire more. Just before we left, I was cleaning out my house (to get ready to pack and to make space for a friend to stay there) and I was trying to purge everywhere, but especially with clothing. I took piles and piles of clothes out, but still there were full closets when I left. But after two weeks of camping, my clothing needs have naturally simplified themselves. I brought more than I could possibly use while we are camping, and I certainly brought entirely too many tank tops and short sleeved items. Shockingly, I even brought skirts. And though I just might put on a skirt when we check into our house (very soon!), I certainly didn’t need three or four. But I didn’t have to do any work to come to this point of simplicity. It has just been a natural consequence or benefit of the life we are currently living. All those years of trying to simplify when all I really needed to do was to move into a pop-up camper! Silence and solitude have been equally enacted upon me much the same way. I am not naturally inclined to talk to strangers (though I been braver than usual lately, necessity makes us grow!) and I am without my friends and family, and (much to those same friends and family’s chagrin) without a cell phone or even cell coverage, in many circumstances. So the stage was naturally set for me when I reached the third section of this book on finding our way, when the author introduces the ancient threefold way, to experience the first of the three which is katharsis. The author describes katharsis as the gate through which we enter the ancient way and its practices. I remember as we drove the very lonely roads of Wyoming that Taido said, I would think that if you grew up here, you would have to be the kind of person who was pretty comfortable with yourself. In a place so desolate, you would have to face your demons, and you’d be free from the influences of a lot of the world, though I fear TV is quickly reducing the good that isolation can do for a person and perhaps internet too, because just think, dear reader, that I have a voice even as I am writing this, which lessens my aloneness in the rainforests of British Columbia. But I digress. Katharsis is a sort of purging of the soul, which is simply easier to focus on without the distractions of phone or social engagements of any kind, and so I hope that being far away in Canada will help me move through katharsis and on (but not leaving katharsis behind, because you take each practice with you into the next phase) to fotosis and then all ready for theosis when I come home. Because that third one involves other people. As I read through the section on theosis at the campground yesterday, I looked up at Cole for a minute (he was swinging his light saber at Ben and Simon) and wondered if he might be ready for the threefold ancient way. It was a fleeting thought. Though he might understand it, I am pretty sure you need to actually desire the effects in your life to begin to practice it. Oh well. That is something to pray about. Handy that I already have the next book in the series, In Constant Prayer.

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If I could magically give you a gift today via the internet it would be this,

To sit you down on a bench in the Trail of the Cedars,

And to fill all your senses with Glacier National Park.

You would feel the mountain sun touch your face as it trickles through the trees.

The rushing rapids would drown out any other sounds, in the air or in your heart.

You would see with your own eyes trees, mountains, rivers, lakes, snow and spring in the same hour.

And most importantly, you would fill your senses with the intoxicating smell of this place.

And breathe deeply this combination of spring, cedar, pine, damp grass and sun.

If only I could bottle this aroma and take it with me

And send some your way, because I feel certain it would cure whatever ails you.

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