The Ultimate Defining Moment

The moment that defined me in a way that no other event did was my baptism into Christ, some 45 years ago. At that moment I became a completely new person - one who aims to be "like Christ," while, gratefully, relying upon God's grace, because of my imperfection.

Everything that happened in my life following that decision was shaped by it -- the college I attended, the man I married, the choices I made in parenting, the way I related to our exchange kids, the faith I exercised in moving to Albuquerque, the thanksgiving I have for Sweetpea and the role I play in her life.

I assume other events will continue to define me, in the future, but those events and that process will be nothing more than a continuation of the refining that started on that day in 1963.

Defining Moment #8 - Sweetpea

Last evening we got a telephone call. On the other end of the line was a tiny little voice, proudly announcing that she had peepeed in the potty! Dan and I both celebrated the announcement with cheers, compliments and hand-clapping. Such are the joys of being a grandparent.

I've probably gushed over my granddaughter too much, already, in my blog. But it is that little girl who has defined me as a grandma. I promise to keep this one brief and to the point. Being a grandma has given me a new purpose in life, which, I guess, is the whole idea of a "defining moment." It's drawn me closer to my (very dear) daughter-in-law. It's given me many reasons to be proud of my son, who is now a daddy. It's added a new dimension to my prayer life. And it's brought telephone calls (like last night's), warm hugs and sloppy kisses from our Sweetpea.

Defining Moment #7 - Moving to Albuquerque

Dan and I have made a number of big moves in our married life -- from Texas to Alaska; from Alaska to Oregon; from Oregon to Alaska; and from Alaska to New Mexico. But it was that last one, to Albuquerque, that I consider a defining moment in my life. For every other move, we had employment all lined up, as well as a place to live. In coming to Albuquerque, we stepped out on faith.

Not that we stepped out foolishly or without preparation. We had saved up the money to make the move and to be able to live, frugally, for three or four months if it took that long to find employment. But, even so, it took a measure of faith that I had seldom had to exercise. Our son, Tim, left Juneau and moved with us, as well. So we were three unemployed, "homeless" folks when we arrived in Albuquerque around the first of May, 2003.

Once we arrived, we rented a furnished and equipped apartment that the three of us could use as home-base. We had only one vehicle, so we were very tied to the hip, so to speak. Tim, rather quickly, got a part-time, evening job at the theater, which was walking distance from our apartment. Of course, he knew this wasn't the job he wanted or needed in the long term, but it did bring in a little immediate money. The three of us spent two or three hours of every day at the employment office, where we searched for jobs, faxed off resumes and applications, and took tests.

We also began looking for a house, since the apartment was very expensive, and getting into a house would greatly reduce our monthly expenses. Within the first two or three days in Albuquerque, we found the house we wanted, and began the process of purchasing it -- even though we didn't have employment! Our realtor said the loan would be no problem, and it wasn't. A month later, we were moving into our house on Rio Los Pinos Drive NW . . . still unemployed! And still without any furniture. We did buy some patio chairs, which we used inside until we could afford to purchase "real" furniture.

Tim started working at a call center, and decided he would also go back to school. He enrolled at ITT Technical Institute, and began what would be two years of a full-time work/full-time student routine. (And he graduated with "High Honors" - way to go, Tim!) Not long after getting his first full pay check, Tim moved into his own apartment, across town from us.

I was the next one to get a full-time job, at SWCA Environmental Consultants. It wasn't a job I loved, but it paid well, and I considered it a true blessing. Dan was next to find work. He had thought he might like to do contract work, hoping for something like 6 months on/6 weeks off. But the contract work he found turned out to be more like 6 weeks on/6 months off! That wasn't going to work. So he eventually took a regular position -- the one he still has, at the air base.

Through all of this adventure, we never lacked for a roof over our heads, a vehicle to get us to appointments and interviews, or food to eat. By God's grace, we met every financial obligation, without fail.

Our preacher, tonight, talked about faith. He told us about the African impala, a beautiful animal that can jump as high as ten feet and leap as far as thirty feet. Yet, when enclosed behind a three foot wall, it won’t leap over it because it refuses to leap if it can’t see where it will land.

For much of my life, I've been like that impala, scared to jump if I can't see where I'll land. The move to Albuquerque was a faith-builder for me. My prayer for "daily bread" was more meaningful than ever before, and so faithfully answered. Because of this, I consider our move to New Mexico another defining moment in my life. I'm more willing to leap, even when I can't see where my feet will land.

Defining Moment #6 - Exchange Students

I've written about one of our exchange students, Takashi, in previous posts. He was the one who most completely immersed himself in our home- and family-life. He is the one who has come back to visit us, both in Oregon and in Alaska. He is the one who called Dan and I, "Dad" and "Mom," and talked of Chris and Tim as being his "brothers." He is the one I think of as our "Japanese son."

However, Takashi was only one of a number of international folks who lived with us. Most of them were from Japan, but not all.

The first was Akira, an uncharacteristically tall Japanese boy with a great sense of humor and a zest for American life.

Here are (left to right) my dad, Dan, me and Akira at the Newberg Old Fashioned Days parade.

The next summer Akihito came to stay with us. He loved tennis, and was happy that we lived walking distance to some courts.

Akihito, Chris and Tim, at a picnic

Then came Tadashi, who was not a student, but a teacher/chaperon for a group of students. Tadashi had a good grasp of English (he was an English teacher, in fact) and enjoyed engaging us in philosophical discussions . . . "You Americans don't kill whales because they are beautiful animals. But it is okay to kill ugly animals?"

Tadashi, arriving in Newberg with some roses for his host family (us)

Next came Takashi, our "son," who warned us, when he was about to depart for home, that we would never host another student like him -- who would be integrated into our family as completely as he was; who would be a "son" like he was.

Takashi loved to cook. Here he is preparing a meal for us.

Concurrent with and following Takashi's stay, we also provided a home to Fumi, another Japanese boy who had befriended Takashi, and was not happy with his assigned host-family.

While Fumi was living with us, his mother came for a visit. She was so pretty, and looked young enough to be Fumi's sister!

Victor, from Brazil, didn't officially live with us, but he spent a lot of time in our home, because he befriended both Takashi and Fumi. Victor was a joy! He had a wonderful personality, and the best laugh. He came back to visit us several years later, after becoming a judge in the Brazilian legal system.

Victor, Takashi and Fumi got to go through the graduation ceremonies at Newberg High. Dan and I helped chaperon the Senior all-night alcohol-free party, which was a lot of fun.

Then came Rodrigo, from Colombia. He was our one failure. Try as we might, Rodrigo wasn't happy in our home, and made life difficult for all of us. We requested he be moved to another home after Christmas (I guess Takashi may have been right!).

Here's Rodrigo at Christmas time. We always tried to make Christmas as special for our exchange kids as it was for our own.

And finally we hosted a young girl (our ONLY girl!) from the Ukraine, named Katerina. She was only in the U.S. for a three-week stay, so we didn't have the chance to get to know her as well as some of the others. (I can't locate a picture of her, but she was very pretty.)

Our experiences with these young people -- both the wonderful memories and the trying times -- defined me in several ways.

• My American way of thinking was challenged and expanded, and I saw life from new perspectives. For instance, have you ever tried to help a Japanese student study for and pass a semester-long American History course? Consider, just as one example, explaining the Salem Witch Trials!
• I became a better communicator, and fairly skilled at non-verbal communication. In their early days with us, most of these students spoke and understood very little English. We frequently relied upon pantomime or picture-drawing. Even after they had been with us for several months, there were miscommunications that had to be resolved; and I learned how vital facial expressions, body language and touch were to effective communication.
• I became, in one sense, the missionary I always wanted to be. I had the opportunity to teach these young folks about the God of the Bible, through example and earnest discussions, without ever traveling to Japan, Brazil, Colombia or the Ukraine.
• My desire to learn was stimulated, and opportunities were opened up to me. I became so fascinated with Japan, its culture and language, that I took six years of Japanese language study and even taught a couple of quarters of conversational Japanese at Portland Community College. I was then hired on as an adjunct ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher at George Fox, where I worked with college-age students from both Asia and South America. I doubt that any of these rich and rewarding experiences would have been mine had I not been touched by these kids.
• Besides defining and refining me, hosting was also a rich experience for our two sons, who gained an understanding of other cultures, while sharing their space, their time, their parents and their friends, and exchanging ideas with these young people.

Defining Moment #5 - Childbirth

Having children defined me as a mother. I remember, a few days before Chris was born, trying to wrap my mind around that concept. "Today I'm not a mother, but next week I will be." I tried to comprehend it, but really couldn't until the first moment I held my baby.

I learned many lessons through being a mother, not least of which is that God knows, better than I, what children I should have. If I could have shopped for my children through a mail-order catalog, and been allowed to choose every single characteristic I wanted, I doubt that I would have checked the boxes beside (just to name a few):

a Allergies and asthma
a Attention deficit
a Non-stop talking
a Delayed speech
a Slow to potty train
a Fearless and accident prone
a Overly cautious

And yet, as it turned out, I love each of my sons, not in spite of having some of those characteristics, but because of them! I gradually learned to treasure each small trait that played a part in making them the wonderfully unique little fellows they were (and big fellows they are). And if I had custom ordered designer-kids, I wouldn't have ended up with the two that I love with all my heart.

Having children defined me as someone who defends, protects, provides, compliments, encourages, comforts, disciplines, trains, teaches, enjoys, plays with and takes pride in her children. That would be a mother.

Defining Moment #4 - Marrying Dan

Dan and I dated throughout my entire first two years of college; I was wearing an engagement ring by the beginning of my Sophomore year; and we were married the summer before my Junior year, immediately following Dan's graduation.

As in all marriages, when two people become one, both are changed in countless ways. In other words, two people are, in some ways, redefined by the relationship. If it is a good relationship, that redefinition turns the two people into stronger and better individuals, and results in a strong and satisfying union.

While it seems that explaining how 39 years of marriage has defined my life would be an easy task, I found it very difficult. I think the reason is that it has defined me in so many ways that it's hard to identify a few specifics. But I'll try. Here are a few of the ways that marriage to Dan has defined me:

• I have confidence in making major decisions, because I never have to make them alone. All of our decisions are based upon "How will this affect us?" not, "How will this affect me?"
• I have become braver and more resilient. Because of Dan's encouragement and leadership, I have dared to attempt many things that I probably wouldn't have, otherwise. Some attempts turned out wonderfully; others didn't. But even our failures were good, because we learned by them and came out of the experience richer for having tried, and better prepared for the future.
• I lead a life free of fear. Because of Dan's faithful years of hard work, our children and I were never without the necessities of life. We've always had a warm home, food and clothes; and the past leaves me with no reason to fear the future.
• My faith in God has grown. We have been mutual encouragers, when it comes to spiritual matters. And we are constantly reminded that all of our efforts (even Dan's hard work) would not have been sufficient without God's hand working in our lives.
• I am a mother and grandmother. I can't imagine life without my two sons; not just any two sons, but the very ones God gave to Dan and me. And, through one of those sons I have gained a daughter and a granddaughter. I couldn't possibly define myself, today, without including the words "mother" and "grandmother."
• I laugh more. Dan puts a lot of joy and humor in my life.

Defining Moment #3 - College

So, after growing up in Juneau, at the age of 18 I said good-bye to my folks and friends, and flew south to Abilene, Texas, for college. People often ask me why I went so far from home. I knew I wanted to go to a Christian college. I considered several and received scholarship offers from three. But Abilene Christian College (ACC) was the one I had my heart set on. Over the years, a number of ACC students had come to Juneau, during the summertime, to work with the youth in the church. They were fun, dedicated young people and had a major influence on my decision to attend ACC.

Going to ACC defined my life in a number of ways:

• I gained a new appreciation of the size and expanse of the church. Back home, I had been one of about four teens in a very small church. I confess to having had thoughts, at times, similar to Elijah, who believed he was the only faithful prophet left on earth! At ACC I was happily a part of 3000 students, from around the world, who shared a common faith.
• I began to overcome my innate shyness. My college roommate, Chris, an out-going and high-spirited girl, greatly influenced me in this respect.
• I grew in perseverance by tolerating obstacles to completing my degree: Obstacle 1 - The oppressive west Texas heat. (For the first two years, I lived on the third floor of a very old, brick dormitory (McKenzie) with no air conditioning. Coming from cold country, I didn't tolerate high temperatures well.) Obstacle 2 - Distance from home. (No trips home on weekends or short school breaks.) Obstacle 3 - Distance from campus (After getting married we moved to another town, 23 miles from Abilene, so I became a commuter.)
  
• I went in without a higher education, and came out with one. Because of my degree, my self-confidence improved, and my opportunities in the work world were strengthened.
  
• I met Dan and got married -- but we'll let that stand alone, as Defining Moment #4.
  

Defining Moment #2 - Moving to Alaska

As a young child, I lived in several Alaskan towns, including Adak (on the Aleutian Chain), Craig, and Ketchikan. But in 1957, when I was eight years old, we made what turned out to be a more permanent move to Alaska, to the capital, Juneau. And that move was a defining moment in my life.

At that time Alaska was not yet a state and was still considered the "Last Frontier." Juneau had around 8,000 people; was accessible only by air or water (same as today); and was still home to many of the old gold miners, who had worked for the Alaska-Juneau Mine, which closed 13 years earlier. Juneau still had board walks in many parts of town. Although new-comers often complained of feeling "too confined" or "claustrophobic," the mountains, glaciers, forests and water that isolated the town felt embracing and protective to me. In 1957, many people lived comfortably in Juneau without a car; the population was still located, almost exclusively, in the downtown area, since expansion to the Mendenhall Valley hadn't yet happened. As children, we had free run of the town, with one caution, "Don't go down South Franklin beyond Erwin's Case Lot Grocery." That was where the drunks hung out. (Many Juneauites still avoid that part of town, but for a different reason. It is now the tourist/souvenir shop mecca of the town.) I spent many hours, as a child and a teenager, alone with Nature, just sitting on a rock by Gold Creek, listing to the roar of the water and writing poetry; walking a mountain trail, keeping a wary eye and ear out for bear; or climbing through and exploring the remains of mining buildings, which had been overgrown by the lush underbrush of our rain forest.

Saying, "This is who I am," couldn't be done without talking about Alaska. There is a big chunk of me that is, and always will be, Alaskan.

Our move to Alaska, in 1957, defined me in these ways:

• I prefer wearing clothes that are warm and casual. I'm uncomfortable in fancy clothes or lots of make-up, and am intimidated when forced into a situation where I must mix with people of high fashion.


• I have no fear of exploring new places, making major moves, or going places on my own. In fact, I find experiences of that sort exciting.


• When I am alone, I'm not lonely. Being by myself for awhile is how I renew my energy.


• I seldom let the outside elements (rain, clouds, cold, etc.) dictate my emotions.