Colorado Sucks

My friend, Twinkie, was in town this weekend. I took her up to Estes Park on Saturday to give her a glimpse of Colorado in all its autum glory. This place is beautiful.

She spent only 3 days here... and she fell in love with it. She is going to try to convince her son and his family to move here.

Colorado has that effect on people.

But don't tell anyone.We don't want to let the secret out. In fact, if anyone asks, tell them it sucks.  Tell them the weather is horrible - all the time. Especially this time of year. There's no color to speak of. Grumpy people everywhere. The air smells like cow poo (which, sometimes, is the actual truth). There's nothing to do. Terrible restaurants. No place to hike or camp or hunt or fish or ski....  You're better off staying where you are and leaving Colorado for us weird people.

That's what you tell them.

And for God's sake, don't show them these pictures. They will know you're a big, fat liar.

Rocky Mountain High Colorado

Scott and I were driving home from this little farmers market in Fort Collins discussing how grateful we are.... I wept. Such happy tears! 


I have to post pictures soon (they're all still sitting on my memory card), but for now I'll just tell you about our journey from Oregon to Colorado. Our heads are still spinning! We can't believe how fast this all happened. Once we learned of Scott's job elimination (lay off... firing... whatever you want to call it), God moved in a HUGE way. It was like He just plucked us out of Salem with His bare hands and plopped us right, smack in the middle of where we had longed to be for the last several years. We didn't really have time to think about it. We just put our blinders on and focused on God. We had to run to keep up with Him, but here we are, still a little unsure of how it all happened.


Do we miss Salem? Not in the slightest. We miss a few people for sure. We had some tough goodbyes. But they were bittersweet. Those close to us knew our hearts and knew how unhappy we have been, and, because they love us, prayed with us that God would provide a way, rejoiced with us in all He was doing, and then sent us happily on our way. You never want to say goodbye to close friends, but on the other hand, you do want them to be in a place that is nurturing for them.  


I don't say this to offend... I know some of you love Salem and it's your home. I'm really glad for you! Hey, someone has to call it home, right? But... it just wasn't for us - on so many fronts. I'm just not even going to go down that path, though, because it seems others are so easily hurt by the fact that we didn't like it there. I don't really know why that is. It's like being offending that someone doesn't like peas. It's just preference, that's all. God had us there for a time, for a purpose, and then, in His great mercy, put us on a new path. 


I won't speak for Scott (although I know he feels much the same way), but this has been the easiest transition for me. I think the last few years in Oregon were so hurtful and lonely to me that I've almost blocked them out. The other day, I was talking about where I lived and what came out was Billings, MT... It was like I just bypassed 8 years of my life. Oregon will always have a special place in my heart, though. I grew up there. My childhood home (the house that my father designed and built) still stands on top of a hill overlooking Corvallis. Most of my childhood friends' families are still there. All the good stuff that I remember as a kid growing up is just that. Special memories, special places.... I've moved back twice, I think always with the idea that somehow it would be the same Oregon I remembered growing up. But it never was. Perhaps that is why I was so disappointed. Climate was the same - indeed the rain never changed. But people were different. I really wanted it to be the place I could call home. And I think it finally dawned on me about 2 years ago that it just never would be. I struggled with that quite a bit. You never want to say that your "home" sucks.


Even as an adult, there are a ton of special memories. It's where Scott and I got engaged. Where we bought our first home. Where we had our children. 


When the house was all packed up, everything cleaned out of cabinets and drawers, and the entire house was cleaned, Scott and I did one last walk-through. We walked through the front door, and through every room in the house - remembering, recalling, laughing, crying. That home represents so much of who we were, who we became, and who we longed to be. It was our retreat after a desperate and exhausting day of trying to fit in. 


I think the hardest part about the last two years wasn't so much the realization that it wasn't home. It was the rejection that we received once we voiced it. People we thought were our friends totally turned their backs on us simply because we said we were unhappy and didn't feel the sense of community we were accustomed to in other places. That wasn't a judgment about their friendship because, seriously, if we didn't trust them, we wouldn't have opened ourselves up to them in that way. So it was even more of a stabbing rejection because it came from people we loved. That's hard. Or, maybe we were rejected for other reasons. I don't know. But it doesn't matter. The message was the same. 


Now looking back, I'm kind of glad about that. It made leaving easier. We weren't wanted there. (I don't say that in a "woe is me" way. It's just how we felt we were treated.) 

So, we said our goodbyes, loaded up our entire lives into a 26-foot Penske truck and hit the road, never looking back. In fact, we had this plan of stopping on the side of the road by the leaving Oregon sign (which actually says, "Oregon thanks you. Please come again soon.") and taking the canister of dirt from our vacuum cleaner and dumping it on the ground - leaving Oregon dirt where it belongs - symbolic of the dirt and gunk and marks we've collected over the years, leaving it behind to start afresh. Unfortunately, the border came up super fast, and it's hard to stop a 26-foot truck, attached to which is a trailer on which is a car - all loaded with over 27,000 pounds of belongings. So... we just said, "See ya" and continued on our way.


That in and of itself is funny to me because I remember as we were getting closer, the air was different. It smelled different... It felt different. I was thinking to myself, we must be getting close to leaving Oregon. And then WHAM, we were in Idaho (or "Hidy-HO!" as my friend Jonathan would say).

1281 miles, 3 days, 2 adults, 2 children, and several tons of "stuff"... we finally made it to Colorado.


As I was crossing the border out of Wyoming into Colorado, Phil Wickham was singing "Home" and I cried. We made it. We MADE IT! All the tears... all the pain... all the changes... all the rejection... worth it. Totally worth it. 


And then I got Jack Johnson going.... Sort of the anthem of our journey. And I celebrated!


Throughout our trip, we had friends calling to check on us, see how we're doing, where we were, whether or not we found a Starbucks.... Our friends in Colorado were checking to see what they could do for us, if we needed them to meet us at our new place and bring us anything... The kids traveled really well. Hardly a peep of complaint from them. I think even they sensed a new beginning.

We just spent that first night alone in an empty condo, but the next morning Jey, Todd and Shawn showed up to help Scott unload the truck. Lisa came with Trinity and totally took control of the kids so that I could just focus on organizing boxes, etc. Sara showed up later with her brood just to hang out, and brought cold water and sandwich stuff.... We missed Gretchen and the kids, but her family was in town, so we knew we'd catch up with her later. Ahhhhh, home. 

I wish I could describe it to you. I mean... I could describe our new place, the beautiful view, the 8 miles of walking trails, the river and the lakes right by our house, all the shopping and restaurants within walking distance, and the layers of Rockies that loom in the near distance (15 minutes away), but... I'll do that later. What I wish I could describe is the feeling of "home" and acceptance. It's more than the climate and the landscape. Yes, it's sunny over 300 days a year. There's everything you ever wanted in outdoor activities right outside your front door. (Last night, Scott bought a pair of waders for fly fishing....)  That's all great. (And I mean, really great!) But what's best is our friends that are here. The friends we've been missing for... well... 8 years. It's really more like family, only functional. All the husbands were cut from the same intellectual fabric. All us wives are just odd enough to be perfect for them. And our kids... well... they love each other too. Trinity likes to hold Jeffrey's hand. Ransom likes to tackle him to the ground. Haavah likes to steal Eden's binky. Ransom and Jeffrey smoosh the baby's cheeks together saying, "Chubba-chubba!" 

The first night here, I slept harder than I've slept in years. I just feel this massive weight off my shoulders.  It's incredible the way that God has blessed us. I can't explain it. I don't know why He chose to bless us in this way, why he chose to answer our prayers and give us the desires of our hearts. I just don't know. But I am so, so grateful. 


There have already been some hilarious stories I'll have to write about. One involves why they made swim diapers. The other involves Rocky Mountain National Park and carsickness. But for now, I just want to say we're home. Right where we belong. 


For those of you who stood by us these last few months, we're grateful for your prayers. We drew strength from your encouragement, and we felt you with us as we made our way home. The good news is that Colorado is a great place to visit! ** Hint hint **