Giving Some Serious Thanks

Living far from home means holidays have a whole new meaning and feel about them. Our dear friends, Amy and Mark Starr, moved to Denver about two months before we did and they also gave up the luxury of having family and a community of friends living nearby to move to an unfamiliar state to follow their dreams. Amy is doing her first year of residency at the Denver Children's Hospital so she can be a pediatrician. Amy and Mark are a critical part of our lives here- we all talk frequently about how we have become each other's family. We usually see them several times a week for impromptu dinners, game nights, and outings to (if possible) free local events. Amy and I cry on each others shoulders when we are discouraged or homesick, escape for girls yoga night, or try out new recipes on each other. Mark and Micah primarily spend their time together playing a card game called "Magic." Their obsession has even drawn them to Magic tournaments- huge geek fests where they are overwhelmingly outnumbered by pasty, awkward, virgin nerds. To each his own, I suppose.

This was the first Thanksgiving that both of our families had spent completely away from our families- where we would be responsible for the entire dinner, including the turkey. Because Amy and I both love to cook, we saw this as an enjoyable challenge. We both spent weeks planning our dishes and to fully admit it, we were "geeking out" just as much as the guys were on their Magic game...except our obsession became gratins, turkey brines, and pastry crust recipes. We called it our first grown up Thanksgiving- which is kind of funny since we are pushing 30. But truly, you don't really feel like a real adult until you are entirely in charge of the whole meal.

This turkey was a recipe that I found on the Food Network website by Alton Brown I brined it overnight in a delicious concoction of vegetable broth, salt, brown sugar, peppercorns, allspice, and candied ginger. I felt pretty cocky about my ability to make a good roast turkey, but when it came down to the last hour or so of cooking, I got really nervous and felt the full weight of the responsibility of pulling off the iconic dish of the holiday. My fears were relieved after I started carving and was rewarded with the most flavorful, moist, delicious turkey meat I have ever tasted. Luckily, I wasn't the only one to think so...everyone was impressed expect Penny, who has very little interest in meat at all. Ramona slept through the whole thing, but later raved about the quality of the breast milk.




Penny's favorite part was drinking cranberry juice cocktail from a fancy glass that was "just her size" as she says. She also had a little set of golden silverware and used a real glass plate. She has repeatedly told me that her favorite Thanksgiving food is bread. She relished a huge piece of Amy's homemade brown brown spread generously with her favorite condiment: butter.

The Spread

In order to feel like it was Thanksgiving, I had to attempt to make two family dishes: my mom's potato casserole and my dad's stuffing. As for Mom's recipe, I knew that if I followed the recipe, I would get an almost exact replica of the real deal. With Dad's recipe, I knew I would be on shakier ground. Whereas my mom follows recipes like a true baker- measuring everything accurately and rarely straying from the instructions, my dad is more like the Swedish Chef from the muppets. I knew I would probably not be able to replicate it exactly, but I did a pretty good imitation. At least it was good enough that Mark and Amy said it was the best stuffing they had ever had. Thanks Dad :)







After our feasting, we decided to head on out to Sandcreek Park, which is just a few minutes drive from our house to enjoy the sunset. The weather has been absolutely beautiful lately. It got up to 65 degrees on Thanksgiving Day- definitely the warmest and driest Thanksgiving I can ever remember having. Just more reasons to feel thankful to God for all the blessings he has given us over the past few months, even with all the hardships.




To help Penny understand Thanksgiving, I taught her about the history of the pilgrims and the Native Americans at the first American colony at "school" as we call it. We also made a Thanksgiving Tree during one of our craft times- an idea I stole from some volunteers who did the same activity at My Father's House during family night for the homeless families. We made the tree out of construction paper and taped the branches to the kitchen wall. Then Penny helped me cut out leaves (she is getting really great at using scissors!) and we put the leaves on each person's plate. Then everyone wrote something they were thankful about and we taped them to the tree. I think this will probably be a tradition for us now. Not only was it fun, but it helped create meaning for Penny about the day. She was thankful for "the delicious food God made, my Mom and my Dad, and the lovely home we have here." For as much as I complain about our basement apartment and our terrible neighborhood, if Penny finds it lovely, I'm satsified completely.



CHEERS!

The Sweetness of Living Apart

As expected, the hardest part of moving has been leaving all of our family and friends behind. The first few weeks were especially difficult as we (mostly Penny and I) suddenly began to feel the very real void left behind where our community had once been. There were more than a few days of tears, but just as with any mourning period, each day got a little better. Instead of just feeling the loss of my close relationships, I began to look around me and seek out opportunities to build new friendships.

We've had some small victories, like several exchanged numbers at the local library storytime. I we delighted to have made a friend just after our very first visit to the library. Her name is Kim and she is absolutely a peach-- we have had almost weekly playdates since our first brief meeting at "Book Babies," which is much needed for Penny. She still seems to be confused and sad about the move at times, and especially misses having lots of friends her age. So we are learning how to make new friends together.

But a community cannot be built instananeously, and making new friends does not make us miss our old ones less. So when Micah told me my birthday present was paying for half of the air fare to fly out my dear friend Bethany for a weekend visit, I was thrilled. Penny and I (who also adores Bethany) made a paper chain to count down the days until her arrival. And when we finally ripped off the final ring we had decorated with red glitter and it was time to pick her up at the airport, I discovered the hidden blessing in living apart: joy of friendship intensifed.

Bethany lived upstairs from us at our apartment in Portland with her husband, Ted. We joked about how it felt like we sometimes lived in a college dorm because we always had friends at hand to goof off with. Most weeks included a meal together and more than several late-night desserts. We didn't clean up our houses for each other, we shared crazy ideas, laughed often, and missed each other if one of us was gone for the weekend. This was much more than the "can-I-borrow-a-cup-of-sugar" neighbor. This was more like the "Can-you-drive-me-to-the-hospital-and-attend-my-second-daughter's-birth" kind of neighbor. There is no way to replace the experience we had together, but we knew it would not last forever. But having Ted and Bethany as upstairs neighbors will probably be one of the best memories of my life and some of the people we miss the most.

But though that magical era has ended in our lives, I discovered during Bethany's weekend visit how much more you appreciate friends when you only have 36 hours to enjoy their company. I was so giddy to pick her up that we ended up driving aimlessly on the freeway as I missed our exit a number of times (adding about an hour to our commute) while we chatted away. The next few days we filled with site seeing, amazing conversations, laughter, and good food. I didn't take Bethany for granted when she lived upstairs, but being without a community of friends made me so appreciative to be with someone who knew me well and that I could be completely relaxed with. It was much different than simply seeing someone you haven't seen in a while and missed- it truly fed my soul. Best birthday present ever :)

Guest Writing:

Heather has been pretty busy this week, so she asked me to try writing the blog. . . Ugh. As much as I always loved the language arts, I've never really liked writing. I'm just doing my duty as a friend, husband, and father.

I want to talk about work, since that's what I do with most of my waking hours. Teachers have written a lot about their first year of teaching. It's busy, you're always learning, and sometimes you have to use your kneecap to block a student's fist before it encounters another student's face. At this point in my career one of the most useful lessons that I have learned is that I can pretty much out wrestle any girl in my class. . . of course the other day one of my lovelies did come to school ready for a brawl - you'll just have to ask me about it later.

Most of my students pride themselves on being "hard," most of them have spent a lot of time on the street, and it shows. While they constantly bicker about who is tougher, and badder, and has spent more time in the Gil - it's a Denver thing - they actually spend more time complaining about their commute, school food, their peers, and especially the work load. Pretty typical adolescent high school behavior, but the contrast is pretty drastic.

I'll admit I'm being pretty negative, it's just how I vent at the end of a long day. It's been rewarding, and I feel like I'm really making a difference in these kids lives. The other day I pulled a student out of a class to do a private tutoring session. While we were working he apologised for his behavior and thanked me for not giving up on him. He actually said "Mr. Wiese, thanks for never giving up on me, even when I give you so much s***."

I'm having fun, I'm learning a lot of stuff that doesn't have to do with face punching, and I have a good feeling about where things are headed.

M-

13 Years In the Making

Micah and I celebrated our 8th anniversary on Monday night, but as many people know, we have been together since high school. When I first met Micah, he had shaggy hair down to his shoulders, wore roller skates held together by multicolored duct tape, and was barely passing any of his classes. I was an overachieving student sporting combat boots, hippy skirts and I was totally enamored with his witty charm. The best word to describe our high school romance would be "whimsical." We managed to be the best of friends, but also loved each other intensely. Remarkably, we somehow held our relationship together through the waves of pubescent instability, got married when we were 21, and now are trying to pass as real-live grown ups.

As we were sipping wine and enjoying steaming plates of fresh pasta (good thing it wasn't a first date- Micah had speghetti), we started talking about what our 16-year-old selves would say if they could see us now. I really think 16-year-old Heather would be surprised about 3 things. First of all, I would have been shocked to learn that I didn't graduate from college until I was 28. I was very driven in school- always an honors student and I had never doubted that I would get my degree right out of high school. But I would be glad to hear I did finish, even if it was a little behind my ideal timeline.

The second surprise/relief would be that Micah came around to the idea of having kids. At that early stage in our relationship, Micah was absolutely terrified of children-- sometimes even the sight of a baby would literally send him into the corner rocking in the fetal position. I didn't really want to date someone I couldn't see myself marrying and I had always knew I would be a mom someday so this was actually a serious point of tension and conflict in our relationship for the first couple years that we dated. 16-year-old Heather would be pleased as punch to know that not only did Micah eventually want to have kids, but he would be an incredible father. I don't know if I would have believed that he regularly volunteers in the church nursery as well and that babies adore him.

The third shocker would be that Micah had not only graduated from college before me, but that he had completed his master's degree and was a high school math and science teacher. I think this revelation would have given 16-year-old Heather an incredulous fit of disbelief. I mean this in the nicest way, but Micah was a complete slacker in high school. He barely passed his classes and graduated with barely a 2.0 gpa. He was clearly brilliant, but he was completely unmotivated at school and had very little ambition for his life. Part of our draw to each other was that we weren't sell outs- we walked a different line from everyone else. 16-year-old Micah would see being a teacher as being a serious square. We weren't totally rebels by any means, but Micah did reject "the establishment" and we playfully disdained "The Man."

We were brushing our teeth before bed the other night and I was looking at our reflections in the mirror. Suddenly, I was overcome with how fast time passes. How can this be? Are we really 29 years old? Parents of two children? People with degrees and careers? And we are living in Colorado? I'm sure this will happen all throughout our lives as we grow older. Our children will grow up, and we will be left wondering, "how the heck did this happen so fast?" Sometimes I still feel like I am 16-year-old Heather, dancing in the rain with my Strawberry Shortcake lunch box, writing terrible poetry and not having a care in the world about what people think of me. But with all the incredible transformations that have happened to us over the years and to the world around us, one thing has remained: I still love that crazy boy in rollerskates.

Hitting the Restart Button on Life

We always have said that moving to Denver was going to be our great adventure as a family. We left everything that was familiar, comforting, supportive, and easy and traded it in for a new life in the mile hile city so Micah could persue his dream of teaching. Getting here was half of the adventure: months of uncertainity, crazy testing, and separation finally did lead to a full-time teaching position for Micah at a brand new charter school. So we starting packing up our lives in Portland to begin a new chapter miles away from our families and community. That would have been fun in of itself, but add it to finishing college (me) and pushing out a baby (also me...obviously), and we've experienced more stress in the past 6 months than the past 4 years of our marriage combined.

And so now here we are, basking in the full reality of our decision and people want to know: how the heck are we doing?

That's why we've decided to start a blog. Hopefully by recording our new life in Colorado, we can begin to piece together why so many doors closed for us in our hometown and why God seemed to be pushing us to this new place. Though everyone wants us to be intensely happy since we gave up so much to get here, the reality is that living a dream is not always easy and transistions are never seamless. My intention is to honestly describe how our lives have changed, even if "living the dream" isn't as easy or pretty as we hoped. After all, life is messy...but messy can be a lot of fun too.