the view from portland

One of the things I have come to love about living in the Portland/Vancouver area are the views of Mount Hood. I still get giddy when I go back to my Seattle home and see Mount Rainier looming with its majestic beauty - but I have learned that Mount Hood offers a georgeous panorama as well. This is what I get to see every morning on my way to work or class:

Also, something unique about the views of Mount Hood, is that this mountain, about 4000 feet lower than Mount Rainier, looks vastly different in the winter:

Than it does in the summer:

You can watch the snow melt as summer creeps in!

stories that shape us

One of the many stories that has shaped my life is being told that I remind people of my grandmother. Stylish clothing, pretty jewelery, decorating a home, baked goods and learning to make candies and other yummy treats, an appreciation for beauty, a bit of a feisty streak. These are just some of the things that I remember where someone made the connection between me and my grandma - "you're so much like your grandmother!" My mom told me once that I was my grandma's favorite grandchild because my grandma herself identified with me. I cannot put into words the pride that would come with such comments; I knew this was high praise; that there was a goodness in my grandma that penetrated deep. To be told that people see her in me meant - and means - a lot.

Now that she is gone, I'm left wondering if she really knew that. We weren't close in the sense that we talked frequently or spent a lot of time together, especially since I moved away almost two years ago. We talked regularly, but maybe every couple months or so. It was more that I saw us, as Anne of Green Gables would say, as kindred spirits; so similar in so many ways. Did she know how proud I was to take after her, to see beauty where others saw plainness, to love people and desire to share deeply in their lives? It really aches to wonder. It aches to think of how she never saw my home here and got to appreciate the paint colors I chose or the kitchen we pretty much redesigned. Even more so, she'll never know my children. She got to meet 5 great-grandchildren before she left this earth. But not mine. Regrets.

I'm feeling like a pretty bad counselor, because I can't seem to live out some of the things I remember telling clients this past year: give it time, let the roller coaster emotions come, let yourself mourn, it's normal to feel a little crazy, it's normal for moods to change quickly, it's normal to feel easily irritable... I'm completely at a loss as to how to deal with this! The service was last week, and while before the service I thought I was doing pretty well, now I am not so sure. It was so real and so final and so absolute. And I'd do anything to rewind the summer and have one last opportunity to see my grandma. And it hurts so badly. And I'm really trying to keep going to work and keep going to classes and keep being social with my friends and keep supporting my family and keep praying and seeking God's comfort. But it's all really hard. And then I tell myself I am overreacting; it was "only" my grandma (ouch - that seems terrible to think, let alone type). What the heck??? I am going crazy.

the legacy

When I die, give what is left to the children.
If you need to cry,
cry for your brothers and sisters
who walk beside you.
Put your arms around anyone,
and give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something,
something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I have known and loved.
And, if you cannot live without me- then let me live in your eyes-your mind-and your
acts of kindness.
You can love me most by letting hands touch hands, and letting go of children who need to be free.
Love does not die.
People do.
So, when all that is left of me is love,
give me away.

- author unknown -

the light shone in the darkness

No, this won't be a posting exhorting you to live a life exemplifying Christ... today David and I explored the Ape Caves near Mt. St. Helens. They aren't exactly caves, it's a tunnel about 2 miles in length that was created a couple thousand years ago when the volcano erupted. The lava went underground, burning through the earth and rock, and after flowing for a few weeks, left behind a carved out tunnel! It was so cool. There are two entrances, one at the end, and another about 1/2 mile from the opposite end of the tunnel. And between the two entrances? Pitch black, except for the flashlights and lanterns of people exploring the caves. Most of it was pretty easy to get through, since the bottom was either fairly even lava flow or sand and mud that had been deposited over the years. But there were sections where it got real narrow and we had to climb over big rocks, or up and down sleep slopes. Fun! Here are a couple fuzzy pictures of our adventures. The first is a picture of one of the entrances (which has a very helpful staircase leading down into it), and the second is the one and only skylight that lets a little light peak into the tunnel about halfway through. It was awesome to see the varying contours of the inside of the tunnel, all the ridges and cavernous ceilings; but unfortunately pitch black darkness doesn't lend itself well to photography. You'll have to check it out for yourself!

frailty

The past week and a half have been sort of like a roller coaster. Good times come right on the heels of hard ones, and sometimes a moment is so good and also so hard at the same time. I'm tired. I cry at odd moments - usually when I stop and rest for a moment, or in the middle of trying get some reading done. I spent a day with my family over the weekend, and was able to see my grandpa for the first time since February. He's a completely different man - so weak and frail. He gets out of breath after even a short sentence, and he can barely walk even with the assistance of a walker. It was painful to watch his gaze turn to the photograph of him and my grandma on the end table, and at the same time I was moved so deeply by the love that existed between these two people. I was also SO glad to just be with him, and have confidence in knowing he knows I love him deeply. There are so many things we just don't say to people! And then we can't anymore. Here's a couple pictures of my grandma, taken just a couple years ago.