Moving, Margot, and Making Memories

A week ago, Thursday, Dennis and I flew in from New Brunswick after some great days with the Kingswood University students and faculty during their mission focus week. We hopped in our car, picked up Josh and Stella, and headed straight to Michigan. Six-o'clock the next morning Mike, Josh, Dennis and I drove to Grand Rapids, picked up a U-Haul truck, and then proceeded to Frontline Church where our personal belongings had been so graciously stored over the past four years. In less than two hours we had everything loaded–a bed, a dresser, lots of boxes filled with books, and sentimental pieces like my Grandma's cedar chest, a wooden high chair that I sat in, my great-grandfather's rocking chair, among other pieces that Dennis' Dad made for us over the years. Josh and Stella drove my car back to Indy, while Dennis and I hightailed it down the road to buy a new bed (dropped the old bed off at Mike and Joni's:), and then on to Chicago where we hit up IKEA for some living room furniture.

Saturday morning came with great moving weather and able-bodied help, thanks to Tim, Jason, Peter, Jim, and Terry (Jim and Terry Sprow are long-time friends from our years at Holland Central - never saw our paths crossing like this again). Chalk up two more hours and the truck was as empty as our condo was filled.

It was on move-in day, 9:00 a.m. to be precise, I was in the laundry room sorting through cleaning supplies when I heard an unfamiliar ding on my phone. It was different than my text message alert, so I pulled the phone out of my back pocket to see what the signal was all about. And then my heart skipped a beat. "Margot's Birthday - tomorrow." Oh, our sweet Margot. How fun it would have been to celebrate our move to downtown Indy with Margot's 2nd birthday.

I remember too well that day, March 24, now 2 years ago. A phone call in the middle of our Budapest night. Forty-five seconds to tell us that Kari fell and the doctors were about to take the baby out. We waited over two hours for the next phone call, awake, praying, wondering. We fully expected to hear of Margot's birth, but instead we heard, "We lost Margot." Overwhelmed with grief for our loss, and the awful heartache our kids were experiencing, we thought fast, called airlines, began packing, and left within hours for Pasadena.

Always wishing I could have held her. At least I have a picture. We had moments of tears throughout the day and into the next in the middle of unpacking.

On Sunday afternoon while unpacking a box of individually wrapped items, the paper unraveled to reveal the beaded hummingbird that fluttered in my kitchen window in Budapest. I was attracted to this little bird from the moment I laid eyes on it at Pier 1 way before our move to Budapest. It's actually a napkin ring. I only bought one, though I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it.

Somehow it made it to Budapest. I kept it in my desk drawer, and after Margot's death I knew the exact spot where this little bird was meant to be–next to her small picture hanging in my window. As I wrote a year and a half ago: It seemed so fitting for Margot. The smallest of birds, feathers shimmering like that of a prism. Each little twist and turn producing iridescent colors in the sunlight. Flirting with flowers, they're here and gone, only to return again with the flutter of their wings humming in mid-air. 

Margot flits in and out of our lives with sometimes surprising reminders of her existence in the womb and what could have been. Where could I put my hummingbird in our new home? I have two shelves above my kitchen sink. I had already placed some items on the shelves, one being a light blue water bottle I got from a restaurant in Spain. The napkin ring fit perfectly around the top of the bottle, and there was the perfect spot on the top shelf for my hummingbird, ever reminding me of our sweet Margot who was here and gone so quickly. 

Getting our new home settled was priority this past week. Unpacking one box after another. Organizing kitchen, bathrooms, closets, laundry room, and dresser drawers. Arranging furniture and books on shelves. Getting a feel for pictures on the wall. It's been fun to unpack things that remind us of Budapest, and to pull items out of boxes that we had forgotten about over the past four years. We already feel at home, though we still have a few boxes waiting to be unpacked.

Last night we had our Indy kids and grands over for Dennis' Mango Chicken dinner. Julie rode her bike over. Josh and Kari walked over with Stella and Leo in a double stroller. Leo sat in the wooden high chair that was mine. I pulled wooden puzzles and play dishes out of boxes for the kids to play with–toys that Josh and Julie remembered playing with. Stella was building "forts" behind my living room chairs before the evening was over. When it was time for everyone to head back home, Dennis and I walked with them half way to the local DQ, said our goodbyes, and then walked back home eating our blizzards.

It's a life I only dreamed of.

Downtown Indy, Here We Come!

We hoped for character, plenty of natural light, a high walkability factor, and simplicity. I think we got it. It's a two-story, red brick school house—the Horace Mann #13 Indianapolis Public School built in 1873.

I think every time I enter the double-door entrance, I'll wonder about the teachers and students that stepped into this school for almost 100 years, until its final year of classes in 1970. I'll wonder what grades were taught in our #4 condo unit, and what the rooms were really like back then. What did they have for desks when school began in the fall of 1873? How exciting to begin classes in a brand new school. I can just imagine the teachers in their long dresses, hair up in a bun, and the girls in their pinafores, and boys in knickers.

Named after politician and editor, Horace Mann (1796—1859), the school sits on the former property of Calvin Fletcher's farm land, thus the name of this endearing Indy neighborhood, "Fletcher Place." With only days away from our move-in date, we couldn't be more eager and excited to settle in to our new home and community.

Fourteen-foot ceilings with 12-foot high windows gives the character we hoped for, not to mention a few exposed brick wall spaces and a built-in, glassed-doored hutch made from what some think was a dumbwaiter to lower or raise food to the individual classrooms. Our entrance door looks like it could have been an original with its frosted window pane and transom window above the door.

Indy's city circle, with its grand monument and fountain, is less than a mile away. The newly built Cultural Trail takes in seven miles of the city and was created for biking, running, and walking, with designated sides for whichever mode you prefer. It's as close as a couple blocks, and I'm planning to do all three, learning my way around the city. A Thai restaurant is one block down on the corner, and the Calvin Fletcher Coffee Company is less than a quarter mile away.

And, better than all that, we're less than a mile from Julie, Josh, Kari, Stella, and Leo. I really had resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never live near my kids or grand-kids. Now, here we are, walking distance from each other. We even pass a quaint DQ in Fountain Square on our way to Fletcher Avenue where the kids live. I have a feeling the DQ is going to be a frequent stop this summer.

I'd say the red brick school house in Fletcher Place is going to be a great fit for us.

Laughing at the Future

I heard it quoted in an ordination class. A fellow classmate was making a comment and I can't recall why she was quoting from a portion of Proverbs 31, but one of the phrases from that passage made my heart do a double take. At break time, I flipped through my small NLT Bible to Proverbs 31 and began reading. Then, there it was. Verse 25. She laughs with no fear of the future.

It had been a while since I read through this passage of the noble woman, wife, and mother, but in all the times I have read or studied this scripture passage, I didn't remember this particular verse. She laughs with no fear of the future. I really had no idea this verse existed.

I have a tendency to think ahead - too many details way in advance. Lots of details. What-if and what-if-that. Dennis tells me that I think of details that no one else is thinking about at all, if ever. It's March and I've already been considering what-ifs and details for December! Planning and details have their place, but there is a point when it becomes unhealthy. Perhaps as we consider future travel, and I need to make decisions about dates and consider holidays and such, I can justify my planning, but I always know when I've gone too far with it. And, because it is so far in advance, it all takes place in my head. Most of the time, there is not a tangible thing I can do or even write down. All in my head only invites worry and fear and anxiety.

Did you know the average baby laughs 300 times a day compared to the average adult who laughs 20 times a day (according to Wikipedia anyway)? I wonder if I even laugh 20 times a day. Do you? I had to go back several years (like 9 years ago) to find a picture of me laughing (the one above - a bit thinner than now, too). Not that we take pictures of people laughing that much, but still.

And, did you know that laughter bonds people, and lowers anxiety? It has a stress-relieving effect. Did you also know that it actually dilates blood vessels, aiding circulation?  No wonder the writer of Proverbs said that laughter is good medicine.

So, you can see why this verse has not left me. It comes to me in the middle of the day if I'm wondering about the future - like our upcoming move - and then I picture myself with head thrown back in laughter, and I smile at the thought. In that picture God is with me and he is laughing too. Immediately, the wondering and unnecessary details floating around in my head come to a stop. Instead I have a quiet heart at peace with the future. God and me laughing together, for my trust is in Him.