Across The Pond
Written by Alison Chino of The Chino House

 

It’s one of those wild hares you dream about doing one day.  You sit around and talk about it,

What if we just picked up and left this town?  What if we moved to another country?  Europe, even?  How would our kids respond?  Wouldn’t it be so good for them to experience another culture? Especially the teenagers? Are we still young enough to make a big, sweeping change in our lives?

My husband and I have had lots of conversations like this over the years.  Conversations like those led to our spending six weeks in China one summer with two toddlers, and to traveling the Pacific Northwest and Canada for three months in a pop up camper with four kiddos.

And while we do really love an adventure in our family, I have to admit that I am a little terrified by the next step in our journey.

We are moving to Scotland for three years. 

We’ve lived in the same house in Arkansas for 11 of our 19 years together, but we are selling it, giving away as many of our possessions as possible and flying to Aberdeen, Scotland in the fall with the clothes on our backs.

And whatever we can fit in a luggage allowance for six.  I’m considering leaving all my clothes behind to save space for my Le Creuset. We may not have two schillings to rub together, but if I can find some beans, I’ll have a pot in which to cook them.

We are flying to Scotland on a wing and a prayer, because my husband, Taido, has been accepted to pursue a PhD in theology, a longtime dream of his. He is leaving his life here as a youth pastor/theology nerd and hoping to parlay his dual passions for study and ministry into something beautiful on the other side of the world.

To say that we are still working out the details of this little undertaking is to put it mildly.  We have passports.  We are in the visa application process.  We have some dates for when schools start.  We have our house for sale.

Friends, that’s about it.

The equation we are hoping for is not one that really makes sense when you look at it on paper:

Faith + Hope + Prayer = Chinos in Scotland with Food + Shelter

However, the most wonderful thing about a journey of faith is that when you tell the story of your adventure, you mark the fingerprints of someone greater than you all over your life.

I shouldn’t have been able to go to the private college I chose, but the funds came in from places I never imagined.

I almost missed out on marrying the love of my life, but somehow, miraculously I was given the chance to see him in a new light.

I thought I would only have three children, but I have this precious fourth child that someone just knew I needed.

When you tell stories like these, you get to wonder anew at how everything came together.  You say how astounded you were that everything worked out, even if it was not according to your plan.

I can’t wait to see and share the story of how our family’s life comes together across the pond!  Whatever happens, I know from experience that there will be a few bumps in the road, but also that I will want to hang on tight and wait for the moments that blow me away.

Wanna come along with us to Scotland?  Follow The Chino House by subscribing by email.

When it comes to writing sometimes our own worst enemy is ourselves.

When I write a blog post, I reread it no less than ten times before I hit publish. I revise and edit. I reword and rewrite.  I am so critical of myself that by the time I am done with all the editing my piece has lost its original meaning.

Writing is a product and we are delivering it to our audience.  We do, as we should, expect a certain level of quality both in the blogs we read and the blogs we write.

Sometime though, in all that editing; we lose something.

That is why I love speed writing.  I probably wouldn’t post my speed writing on my blog but it is a great warm-up technique.  It’s also a way to get motivated when you find yourself stuck.

There are several approaches to speed writing.  The first approach is also sometimes called free-flow writing. For free-flow writing you set a specific time period (such as 5 minutes) and write constantly for the entire time.  You write down any and every thought that comes to mind.  Don’t pay attention to grammar, sentence structure, or even topic. Just write, write, write until the time is up.

The second approach to speed writing is to write about a specific topic for a certain amount of time.  Usually a shorter amount of time is effective for this exercise.  One of my favorite writing websites is The One-Minute Writer.  Each day the author posts a one or two word topic for you to write on.  On the side of the page is a timer. Just press play and then write.  A little buzzer sounds when the minute is up!

Today’s micro blogging challenge is to spend some time speed writing.  Hopefully you will find that is helps set your mind at ease and that it gets you into the writing spirit!

 

Inviting Education on Vacation
Written by Lisa Mullis of  Frenetic Fitness (AWB Miss June 2012)

There’s nothing like the light in a parent’s eyes as we watch the little ones dip their toes in a large body of water for the first time. We love to watch the look of pure joy on our kids’ windswept faces the first time they ride a Ferris wheel or a roller coaster. But what happens when the kids get older and vacations by the water or at amusement parks aren’t giving them the mental stimulus you yearn to see in your teenagers?

As our youngest was coming into her high school years, opportunities to travel with friends and with her church youth group were becoming common. She was afforded opportunities that honestly, we couldn’t do as a family vacation. But when we did have the chance to plan vacations, we tried to make them significant. I once told her that the vacation geography would be up to her but the actual location would be up to me because it would require that the location provide not just fun, but education as well. “Choose, mountain or beach”, I said. “Beach!” she replied. And that is how we came to spend one of our favorite vacations ever tent camping for a week at Anastasia Island State Park in St. Augustine, Florida. Being the oldest continuously inhabited city in the United States with a rich history of Spanish and British culture, we were able to learn as we played. And it’s where I got the idea that perhaps vacations should start to include visits to local universities. We walked by the local university, Flagler College, several times but never actually went onto the campus. We read about it on our iPhone tour app and read information on the free tourist maps but didn’t even consider visiting. After we left, I realized that I had missed a great opportunity to start discussing college options, even if the option seemed unlikely at the time.

The next vacation spot we chose was Asheville, North Carolina. Again, we would be tent camping, this time in the lush Pisgah National Forest where we could hike and mountain bike. Our required education for the trip would be the history of Biltmore and the folk culture of the Blue Ridge Mountains. At the Biltmore we took the Architect’s Tour, as the young one’s invited companion for the trip was interested in design and architecture as a career. Part of that tour afforded us a peek into the blueprint room where several of the drawings of the French Chateaux that inspired the construction of Biltmore are housed, so we had a bit of French history thrown in to our day as well. A close up and personal inspection of gargoyles and copper roof plates ensued. I was amazed at the level of interest two teenage girls would have in that bygone era, well ahead of the Downton Abbey phenomenon. We encouraged the girls to pay attention to the history of Asheville as we took the requisite guided bus tour, they learned about a few famous people who have lived or visited the quaint little town nestled in the mountains and the events that turned it into a thriving vacation spot for the wealthy and the economic crash that followed the heyday. We drove for miles on the BlueRidge Parkway, stopping to hike the Craggy Gardens Trail and up to the peak of Mt. Mitchell with a visit to the Folk Art Center to further investigate the incredible crafting of the area.

This time we didn’t miss the chance to drop by the local university for a visit. The University of North Carolina at Asheville is a moderately sized liberal arts school and we were able to walk about freely as there were new students there for orientation visits. We walked the campus, checked out the bookstore and the library and went to see the music education building as that was where the young one’s interest was at that time.

As we’ve visited family out of state we’ve been on the campus of the University of Alabama, to watch sporting events and visit the great museums on campus. In New Orleans we checked out the NOMA and Sculpture Garden then set out for Tulane and Loyola as well as hanging out in the quarter watching street performers and eating a ton of beignets.

Now as we make college visits around Arkansas, she can compare them to a few other schools that she has visited, seen or at least read about as we’ve traveled. I wish we had started the habit sooner, much sooner, by junior high school at least. Early college visits don’t have to be formal tours, they don’t have to last all day or even half a day. When visits do become more formal, have your child build a checklist for the day: questions to ask and particular campus amenities like dorms, libraries and the cafeteria to visit. I’ve found this type of list helpful. Another tip I found useful was to stand in an open area with a map and look lost. On larger campuses, this may not be an act. The interaction of students and staff with a “stranger” can tell you a lot about the campus environment.

That Asheville vacation has been repeatedly mentioned as one “most likely to be repeated”. Wish us luck as we’re headed back this summer to visit a campus we missed the first time around that is now at the top of the young one’s application list. Start early, plan well and reap the benefits of college tours.

About Lisa: I’m a Wife and Mom. I’m a microbiologist. I’m a mountain biker, hiker, backpacker, sometime runner, and workout enthusiast all while being addicted to good food. I write about it at http://freneticfitness.wordpress.com. I also write forArkansasOutside about other people who love to play outside too. I’m fueled by pizza, red meat and goat cheese risotto. And sometimes I sleep.

Whether you are on the lake, at the beach, or just hanging out in a lawn chair in your back yard, few things are more enjoyable and relaxing than getting wrapped up in a good summer read.

I try to read a variety of genres.  I tend towards historical fiction and a lot of educational texts but I always let loose a little in the summer.  I always look forward to grabbing a few beach themed romances or books about summer camp.  Sometimes I even revisit some of my childhood favorites like Sweet Valley High and The Babysitters Club.  I love the quick pace of the books, the sappy love stories and the pure joy of a fictional text.

On my blog, I NEVER write fiction. I am always blogging about real life.  You probably do the same.  Why not change it up a bit this summer?

Today’s “Micro” Challenge is to go fictional.  Take some inspiration from your summer reading and spin a tale.  Write a poem, a paragraph or a short story that is purely fictional.  It will pull you out of your comfort zone and test your writing skills in new ways.  Publish it on your blog if you like or hide it away in a journal.  The point is to challenge yourself in your writing and to develop new skills.  Perhaps you will even find you have a novel in you!

Note: You may want to forewarn your readers that the post is fictional!

Remember, we will not be providing a linky for this micro challenge but we do encourage you to link up any posts you write in our weekly Sunday Link-up.

Turning the Page
written by Sara Torbett

I’m approaching 30.  Talk about a page turner!   The optimist that fills my brain and every nook and cranny in my being has decided to play hide and seek for now.  She’s hiding-I’m seeking.

I remember my 20’s with vivid detail.  First there were the carefree college days. Filled to the brim with late nights, best friends, and opportunity so thick and sweet you could cut it with a knife and serve it with sprinkles on top.   There was also the cow pasture across from my dorm sophomore year, a foretelling peek into my future.

After college came a boot/overall wearing man and talk of cows and hollers.  Was I ready to write a new chapter with someone who could utter five words, to my fifty? I listened and realized this man had a story to tell! I wanted in, cows and all. I sure hadn’t seen THAT part of the story coming (although the cows sophomore year should have clued me in)

We settled into the pages, fresh ink spilling rapidly, telling of the bliss of newlyweds.  A country home, walks on the farm, building fence.  Looking for mushrooms and counting cows.  Dates on the back deck.

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby…” well, you know the rest.  There were talks about bringing a baby into our newish chapter of life.  Starting a whole new book, really.   We cut deep into two BIG slices of opportunity when we ended up having two babies in less than two years! Motherhood is a lot like farm life.  There’s planting season, and time to watch things grow.  There are grey, cold days where you simply want to feel warmth.  There are carefree days where babies laugh and say “mama” and you feel much like the butterflies flitting about outside.  There are days you know will be on repeat, pages you’ll read over and over.  Then there are surprises, page turner days.  Days with new calves, gardens beginning to sprout, babies walking for the first time.

Life has happened because I turned the pages.  Looking back at my 20’s I realize I’ve traded boulevards for county roads.  Trolleys for tractor rides.  Learning about cows instead of couture.  I wouldn’t rewrite a single page.

As my 30’th birthday looms, I can’t help but ask Miss Optimist to come out to play.  I’m entering my 30’s turning the page with a whole lot more confidence and wisdom than the start of the decade before it. I’m confident that sometimes our best laid plans aren’t really what our heart yearns for the most anyway.  That somewhere in between the fence rows and tilled garden rows is a certain kind of ease that can only come from farm girl living.  I’m not sure what the pages will hold with this new decade. But I’m ready to see.  I hope they include a red barn with chippy paint, junk sales, farm parties, craft days, and maybe even authoring a book.  I think I’ll celebrate in style, with a cake among the cows.  Bring on the sprinkles.

 

So here’s the thing: I’ve put off writing this ‘let me introduce myself’ post until the night before it was due. Actually, that’s not true. It was due tonight and I got an extension. I’ve tried to start this paragraph about 15 different ways and they all sound ridiculous. I just said, out loud, “I’m horrible at writing about myself.”

And then I remembered that I’m a blogger. Oh, the irony.

If you know me already, none of this is a surprise to you. If you don’t, well then, welcome. I’m Sarabeth Jones – a procrastinating, ridiculous, contradiction-in-terms. I am a few other things too: actor, director, designer, photographer, organizer of flash mobs – also mother, daughter, sister, friend. Pretty much I enjoy doing any creative thing that I can get myself into; it might surprise you to know that I work for a church that lets me do exactly that.It’s a pretty wonderful place.

I have become used to being asked if I am Bryan Jones’ wife, even though I’m the North Little Rock native and he is the transplanted Texan. I guess it comes with the territory: he’s 6 foot 6 and the funniest person I’ve ever met, so he tends to leave an impression. We’ve been married almost 20 years and have 3 kids: Elizabeth, Jonathan, and Will. They go to a great year-round charter school in Little Rock, which means that as of mid-July we will have a junior, a freshman, and a 7th grader. That’s right, it’s hormone city at our house. Here’s a recent picture of us:

Story of my life. Somebody is always overacting.

Speaking of, my blog is thedramatic.com. It’s called that because I love that moment when the lights go down and the curtain comes up. I love it whether I’m on stage or in the audience, because either way, the story is about to begin. I see life as a series of scenes: some with fabulous costumes, some with witty lines, others that I wish I could edit out. Sometimes I can almost hear the laugh track…

I’m thrilled to be the Blogger of the Month for June. June is the best month of the year because it involves my birthday, and summer, and a chair by the pool. There also might be cold drinks and a good book. But I digress. I’m also thrilled about June because I’ll be back all month here at AWB, and the theme is life adventures, travel, and vacations – which are all things I happen to adore.

In addition to blogging, I spend way too much time scrolling through Instagram and laughing along with my Twitterfeed. I try not to pick fights on Facebook, and frankly, I’m terrible at Pinterest. At one point this year I had Klout in margaritas, Jamaica, and Justin Timberlake. It was pretty much my proudest moment to date.

Wanna hang out? Here’s some links:

the dramatic (email subscription, RSS feed, Bloglovin’)
Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest (consider yourself warned)

 

What My Grandmother Taught Me about Blogging
By Sarah E. White, 2013 NWA LTYM Cast Member

My grandmother never owned a computer. She communicated to us from her home in Iowa via typewriter-typed letters.

She may not have known much about the Internet, having died in 1996. I’ll bet she never had an e-mail address. But I think my grandma would have been a great blogger.

It seemed to me that her life was all about hospitality and service, two really great traits for bloggers to have.

A Welcoming Spirit

We were a big family when we all got together – her three children, their spouses and eight grandchildren – but there was always room for more people to visit, stay for dinner or spend the night. Old friend or new, everyone was welcomed and valued.

So it should be on our blogs. It’s always a good idea to respond to comments, check out people who follow you on Facebook who you don’t already know, make everyone feel welcome and part of the community.

What Can You Teach?

My grandmother spent her professional life as a school secretary and her grandmotherly life as a teacher. She thought it was important for all of us to know how to set the table and iron a shirt, among other things.

(I still know the right place to put silverware because of her: forks on the left, because fork and left have the same number of letters; spoons and knives on the right for the same reason.)

Because I was in 4-H and we often spent time at her house in the summer – prime fair project season – she helped me learn to knit, cross stitch, make preserves and more. She oversaw painting projects, took me to the yarn store and tried and tried to teach me to crochet, her favored yarn craft. (I finally learned on my own a few years ago, but I’m still not very good at it.)

As bloggers, even if our main mission isn’t educational, we should still aim to serve and to teach. Even if all we teach our readers is that they are not alone, that’s huge.

Express Yourself

If my grandma had a blog, I’m sure it would be full of Irish wisdom, classic midwestern recipes, doily patterns and huge spirit. And that may be the greatest lesson of all: be yourself and let your blog be a reflection of who you are.

And, in the words of my favorite Irish blessing, which hung on the wall of her family room:

May those that love us love us,

And those who don’t, may God turn their hearts.

And if he doesn’t turn their hearts,

May he turn their ankles

So we’ll know them by their limp.

Sarah E. White is a craft blogger, wife and mom based in Fayetteville. She writes about knitting for About.com and Craft Gossip.com, and about crafting for and with children, creativity for moms and family life at sarahewhite.com, also known as Our Daily Craft.

I am ever so aware of those older and wiser folks in my own life, and I try to appreciate and respect them in the best ways I know how. They are my parents, former teachers, and treasured friends and family who have gone before me, paving the path of life lessons and hard decisions. I love them.

But then there are the people who don’t follow that natural order of things. They aren’t “older and wiser” necessarily and they just don’t fit into that traditional profile of a mentor or a guide. Rather than a perspective shaped by years and years of life and experience, they are instead given a storm to weather much too young.

Meet Tara. Tara and I grew up together in small town Arkansas, attending the same school and church and running in the same social circles. A year behind me in school, Tara was like a little sister, and as we both graduated and moved on from our little hometown we kept in touch through the wonders of Facebook and periodic trips back home.

I grew up an Army kid and my parents moved again after I graduated so I sometimes worried about how strongly I’d be able to stay connected to my “hometown”. But I needn’t have worried. Friends like Tara made me feel like I’d never left. A genuine friend, having known and loved me during the awkward coming-of-age years and now as a young adult. A familiar face during those visits “home” when all I wanted was to hug and connect with a person who knew me – who got me. I just love it when friends know they’re family.

But a storm was rolling in.

Tara married in 2009, and in 2011 found out she would soon be a mama. She and her husband Evan were thrilled, and they couldn’t wait to be parents. But their path of parenthood would be rocky. At a dangerously-too-early 21 weeks, Tara delivered a precious baby boy named Aidan Thomas and immediately surrendered him as an angel. This sweet girl, having waited her whole life to be a mommy, left the hospital with empty arms and a heavy heart.

A friend once pointed out to me there is no word in the English language for a mother who has lost a child. There are words like orphan and widow — but no label, no name for a childless mother.

And in the months that followed Aidan’s birth, Tara began to navigate her new role as just that. Her life is something the world finds hard to grasp. We don’t even know what to call it. The idea of a parent losing a child is just impossible to make sense of.

But through all the senselessness and all the grief and all the heartache — Tara never stopped being Aidan’s mommy. When she had every excuse in the world to hide her heart and drown in her own tears – she did everything but. She became Aidan’s voice and his biggest cheerleader. She told his story – their story – to anyone who would listen. She didn’t hide her grief and keep her little boy a secret. She celebrated him every day. She became an advocate for March of Dimes and Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and she became an advocate for mothers like herself who — regardless of our world not knowing what to call them — have a story to tell and a heart to share.

Knowing and loving Tara through the last few years has been an incredible inspiration to me as a mom and as a person. Seeing her bravery and her strength, in the midst of unspeakable pain, is overwhelming.

This past October, Tara told me they were expecting again. Honestly, I was scared to death for her. This time, they knew how to prepare and the doctors knew what would give the baby the best chance. Tara was on bed-rest from the start and took every word of the doctor’s advice. They had a plan, and they prepared themselves for what would surely lie ahead.

I can’t even imagine the emotions surging through her heart during this second pregnancy. Balancing her grief over the loss of Aidan, with the joy and anticipation of this child. As the weeks passed, they learned they would have a second son. It’s a boy! Each week was a gift and meant one more step toward a healthy delivery.

21 weeks. When Aidan was born. Such a hard week of swirling emotions.

24 weeks. Viability.

25… 26… 27…

When Tara got to 30 weeks she couldn’t believe it, and neither could the rest of us. Following her weekly photo updates on Facebook, I always expected her next update to be from the hospital, but there she was – still pregnant.

Each week – they had a plan. ‘If he’s born TODAY, here’s what you can expect. Here’s what we’ll need to do.’ But the weeks kept ticking off.

32… 33… 34…

The doctors were mystified. There was no medical reason for Tara to still be pregnant. She had defied the odds of her incompetent cervix and was looking at a healthy delivery.

Kellan Kent was born at 37 weeks. 6 lbs, 11 oz. 21 inches long. THAT is a healthy boy, my friends. This sweet family had once prepared themselves for what might be weeks upon weeks in the NICU. Kellan was there less than two days.

Strong body. Strong heart. Strong faith. Tara is everything I want to be as a mom. She is the mommy of two incredible little miracles — one in her arms, and one forever in her heart.

 

Written by Sarah Hood. Sarah lives in Fayetteville with her husband Jeff and their four-year-old kiddo Colt – cheering the Razorbacks and soaking up as much Fayettechill culture as possible. Sarah blogs at Musings of Mother Hood where she writes what she knows: full-time parenting a preschooler, a full-time job in advertising, a running habit — and somewhere, somehow finding some balance. Also catch Sarah on Facebook and Twitter.