The many faces of Kooistra

To be a Kooistra is to have a heritage that includes a propensity to live in a variety of far away places, making full family gatherings rare and all the more meaningful.  Hence, a 4-ish day reunion on the banks of Lake James in the middle state of Indiana over the past week, to celebrate my Grandfather's 80th birthday and (next year's) 60th wedding anniversary of the two we claim as our founders, was way overdue.

To be a Kooistra is to also, it appears, have a propensity toward extreme facial expressions available on cue...or, just available:

We are the many faces of Kooistra...stay tuned for more!

A 4th made up of 1sts

Remember these chairs that I love?

Well, this morning I reclined in them on my new deck as I dwelt in early birdsong within sight of the weeping willow across the street.

Since the weeping willow is one of my two favorite trees, I took this as a welcome to my new home.


And I thought: This works.

Then, just in time for lunch, these two kids arrived with bagels straight from New Jersey.

They had to fortify themselves, after all, because I had an afternoon agenda of putting them to work.

First, we went to my office and loaded up the books and papers that have been waiting there for me to come and get them, since my funding (and my right to an office) is up.

Then, we went home and put up curtains, put on bed skirts, oiled squeaky doors.

Then, we ran some errands, picking up our 4th of July celebratory ice cream at the local DQ,

and some groceries to supply
my first bout of cooking in my new (very spacious!) kitchen.

The preparation resulted in some good eating, before I headed upstairs to pack my suitcase for our impending roadtrip to Indiana.

Now, we're waiting for the fireworks to start to see if we can see them off that deck I mentioned.

If not, this kid is climbing into her newly bed-skirted bed, because she is tired.  And, tomorrow begins family togetherness to the nth degree, as we head to a reunion with my father's family.

Happy 4th!

Sunday Idle

A few days of pack/move/clean/move/unpack/clean/move/pack/unpack leaves a girl needing some peace.

That's why it is helpful that I have lovely people in my life to provide it.

First, my Sunday morning of idle started with breakfast a 40 minute car ride through countryside more beautiful than any I've seen in awhile away.

My countryside idle took me to this beautiful inn, to spend the morning with Pam and Del and their friends who own it.  

My countryside idle also took me to this little bird, who felt the need to welcome me there by flying into my lap.  

[I'm not kidding.  The bird flew into and sat in my lap.]

[I'll give you a minute to process that....]

After the shock of that strange little moment wore off, we decided it was time to take a walk along the Juniata in order to make my countrysiding complete.

We wandered along,

breathing in watery air,

before returning to the breeze of the porch,

and the rocking of the chairs.

After awhile I tore myself away, in order to finish the cleaning/moving cycle,

before my evening peace commenced.

Right on schedule, I picked up Yi-Ting and we found our way over to Kenneth and Cathe's in order to celebrate Kenneth's new job and their impending move.

We ate fried chicken, we made a little music, we laughed and reminisced and caught ourselves up on life.

It was idle of the comfortable kind, and it was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

Time to Get Gone

Packing requires a certain amount of ingenuity, a healthy dose of organization, and a decent bit of stamina.

As it turns out, I have less of these things the more I feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the undertaking...

I was grateful, therefore, to accept the help of a trusted friend.  Not just any friend either, but the one who claims to be the other half of my brain, and the much less scattered half to boot.

You see, Kristen--when told of my impending move--volunteered to drive the 5 hours that separate us in order to live out the reality of 'two is better than one' in the face of enormity.

Her presence took the impossibility of the thing away,

and helped there to be much fun at every turn.

So yesterday morning I put on my 'moving shorts' [as the only shorts I own, these beauties are pulled out most frequently when there is a call for lifting and transporting large and bulky items], threw out the nostalgia that Kristen informed me I would soon make more of, and wrapped up the wrapping up of soon-to-be-in-a-new-home items.

And then, right on time, our fierce moving crew arrived and the actual moving began.

Thanks to their organizational and carrying skills,

the cars were quickly loaded with extreme efficiency.

When the apartment was empty and the cars were full, we drove across town.

We arrived at our destination, we unloaded those cars, we put each thing where it longed to be.

Then?  

It was time to play.

We ate some yummy lunch,

while I dwelt in the goodness of 

having my people together in one place.

Then we explored the nearby thrift stores 

with specific things in mind,

but,

got a bit...

distracted.

It was alright though, because our day had gone so smoothly.

Smoothly enough in fact, for us to engage in a blind taste test of some of the items left in my old fridge:

(Emily savors Limeade 1)

(My turn...finally)

(Limeade 2)

Drumroll please...

...Limeade 1 is the all natural winner!!

(Yes, there is a clear difference between all natural and artificial limeade.  In case you wanted to know.)

When we were finished playing around, we reminded ourselves that the purpose of the day was to move, and henceforward put some furniture in my car and--well--moved it.

Then Emily and Aden left with my immense gratitude, and Kristen and I unpacked a few things until we realized we were weary.  We headed back to the old place for one last soiree... 

...consisting of bruschetta and other small items.

We decided we were really good at 'roughing it'.

Later, we went up on the deck with Pam and Del,

where many an evening has been spent with a glass of wine and some good chatting.

As the midnight hour approached we crashed into our beds and slept like people who had spent a day moving large and bulky items.  This morning Kristen packed her own bag and left me here, to clean, to have one last moment.

Tonight this place will sit barren and sad, thinking 'where did she go?', while I will be getting cozy with my new one, having gotten gone from here.

New nostalgia, here I come.

This is it...

I came home last night to the distinct realization that has been eluding me in its finality:

In a few short days, 

this home that I love will no longer be my home.

The boxes strewn across the floor greeted me as I walked through the door, saying

'sister, it is time to face the facts.'

So, as I settled in for the night, as I awoke this morning, and as I spend the day packing up what has been left untouched, I feel every fiber of my being trying to record for posterity the feeling of what it was to live the past three years in this safe and settled place.

I am reflecting on the moments spent in this living space in its variety of arrangements over the years,

the friends that have sat with me here,

the time I have spent seeking God in prayer, seeking knowledge in study, seeking the hearts of those who have come to visit.

I am remembering the meals created, eaten, enjoyed;

I am hearing the laughter over the creation, 

and the sounds of the enjoyment.

I am thinking of the many moments spent in front of this mirror, looking deeply into myself, wondering 'who am I, and what is this journey I am on?' 

[along with a few moments of 'what are these wrinkles in my forehead?!' and 'what on earth am I going to do with this hair?!']

I am shaking my head at how things accumulate even when we live with the simplest of intentions,

and am pondering with amazement the breadth and the depth of the  papers and books that have crossed this desk and these shelves.

I am reliving painful moments of thinking the work would never be done, and am aware of gratitude for the time I've been given to explore the ways we are as a people in a culture on a planet that spins without our help.

I am dreaming of the many warm nights spent enveloped in blankets, the Sunday afternoons spent submerged in cave-like slumber.

And I am called by the chairs sitting in the yard, where I have sat in the presence of sunshine, the Presence of God, the presence of people I love and have learned from.

I give in to the call--as I have so many times each year as the days grow warm.  I sit, close my eyes, and see behind them the many moments of clarity I found here. 

I breathe in the peaceful breeze sweeping my face, record in my ears the bird's accompaniment to the whirring of the insects that clamor to say hello.

I return inside to see this beauty of a couch that Pam bought me just a few short weeks before I told her I had decided to move.   

I take a moment to pause, 

to thank God for the gift of this landlady and her family who have become like family to me, to thank Him for this sanctuary of a place.

And I let myself record the feeling of this
bitter sweet saying of good-bye:

Though I am sad to leave,

I am so grateful to have been.