Today marks the anniversary of my family arriving to Cardiff, Wales from the United States four years ago. I vividly remember each leg of the long airplane ride from San Antonio to Memphis, Memphis to Amsterdam, and Amsterdam to Cardiff the 18th of May, 2006. I remember with jubilation that my one year old son behaved himself and that my 4 year old daughter pooped in the airport between flights instead of on the airplane. I was ecstatic when all 13 of our bags arrived, and I thought that I was off to such a good start to life in a foreign land, because getting there was half of the battle, right? I remember on the last leg of the flight being offered a cup of tea by a stylish British flight attendant and thinking, “This is so quaint and so British and I simply adore it!” Of course I accepted. Now that I was going to be “British”I would be drinking lots of tea.

But of course, as it always does with me, the rose colored glasses were ripped off and smashed in the coming weeks as I experienced culture shock. Thirty two years of living as an American in America versus 2 weeks living as an American in a foreign country. A big, no, a massive shock. There were countless mornings I woke up thinking, “Surely this has been a dream (nightmare more like it). What have I just gotten myself into?”

And the days past. The weeks past. And now I can say that the years have past. My baby Brooks who was one, wearing diapers (nappies), chewing on a pacifier (dummy), and just grunting is now a fully functioning 5 year old. And he has done almost all of his growing up in Wales.

I too, have done a lot of growing up in Wales. Not that I thought that I needed to grow up, but when you are out of your comfort, your familiarity, your homeland, you just simply do some growing up. The situation forces you too.

I am learning that there is a lot of learning to be done. You may be an expert at getting on in your culture, but when you step outside into something very unfamiliar, you are on a steep learning curve. And where you consider yourself an intelligent, educated person, in your new culture you will feel stupid, especially at the beginning. And chances are you will sound stupid and look stupid at times too. I am learning that to live in a different culture you need to be ok with people stopping and staring when you speak because that Texas twang sure causes interest.

It took me two years to learn that math in school was pronounced “maths” and 3 years to learn that they do sell sink stoppers for your kitchen sink. (One didn’t come with my house so I assumed they just didn’t have those and suffered for years without). And I have learned from experience, that no matter what you think, that red cord hanging from the store bathroom ceiling is not the toilet flusher, but the fire alarm that activates the store alarm and sprinkler system.

I have learned to laugh at myself a lot and have even been guilty of laughing at my husband’s cultural mishaps on occasion. I have learned to love learning information about the culture and people that I live around. I have learned that I couldn’t just get over culture shock, but had to be patient and walk through it.

I have learned most of all, that I when I just want to hurry up, take the fast track through whatever God is trying to teach me so I can arrive quickly with as little pain, His preference might possibly be for me to sometimes take the long route in learning something. Because when this happens, it produces true transformation and true character change.

These four years in Wales have been nothing short of an adventure. I can look back 4 years ago and rejoice remembering the smiles and tears of living in a foreign land. I am so thankful that God has been beside me every step of the way, whether I realized it or not. This experience is something I would not trade for the world.

In Texas I used to teach 3rd grade…kids who were mostly 8 and then turning 9 at some point in the year. I loved that age. Old enough to read and go to the bathroom on their own, yet young enough to give lots of hugs and honest words. I thought I understood that age. I felt like I knew how to “teach” that age. I knew the ins and outs of life with 8 year olds.

I always knew that there would come a day when I had children of my own that my child would turn 8 and that day would be a big deal for me. Today that day has come. My oldest child, Harper, turns 8.

Harper has been lovely from the moment she was born. An excellent daughter to Brad and me, and a fantastic sister to Brooks. She is everything I ever thought having a daughter would be and more. She is a gentle spirit with a confident fire in her about who she is. I love that about her. Even though she is the lone American (along with her brother) in her school, she is fine with who she is. The other day when someone was bugging her brother at school she marched over to that person, looked them in the face, and said, “You need to stop that now because I really care for my brother.” I think she is so strong as I see her thriving in a different culture.

Harper loves organization. She adores taking out old papers and cards and arranging them. She loves making collages out of magazine sweet images. She is the kid who likes to start coloring at the beginning of the coloring book and then goes in order. Harper loves reading, loves copying poetry, and now writes her own (not even in school, but on her own time). She loves traveling and learning about different cultures. Harper asks deep questions, but loves sharing and hearing funny stories from her parents. She absolutely adores dinnertime conversation and reminiscing (if one can do that at such a young age).

We have been so blessed by this little lady since God brought her into our lives in May of 2002. God has given her such a teachable spirit and a heart that loves Him and wants to do His will. So, today we will celebrate our 8 year old, Harper Claire. The most lovely girl we know.

Our little man turned 5 yesterday. For 5 short years this guy has had so much life in him. From the time he first started kicking during my pregnancy, there was not one single day that he didn’t kick…even on the delivery day-he was still kicking. From early on after his birth, he would shoot his fist in the air, grunt, and never sleep! In fact the only time he was completely calm that first year was the first week after birth when he had jaundice which made him sleepy.

To settle down to sleep we would often find ourselves sitting his bouncy chair underneath the kitchen exhaust fan or placing him in the bathroom (for a short while) with the exhaust fan on as well. Within a couple of months he was pushing himself to standing up while strapped into his bouncy chair. This guy found a way to wiggle out of things. And he would get his leg moving in that bouncy chair and it would rock so hard and almost fall over. When he sat up for the first time I was delighted that I would have several lovely months (as I did with the daughter) to enjoy him sitting, but not moving around the house getting in to things. But then a couple of weeks later he was crawling! As soon as he could stand he found his sister’s doll highchair, got behind it and zoomed all over the house. His grunts and coos were constant and it seemed he could never calm himself down, nor sleep through the night. This was a new adventure to me.

And (as a former hyperactive child and strong willed one) I was reading Dr. Dobson’s “The Strong Willed Child” learning how to possibly parent him differently than the first. I had assumed a lot of him in the 12 short months he was alive.

And then a year came. And things totally changed. He slept through the night. No more fist pumping and endless crying. He was walking and so much happier and he was talking….a lot and all of the time. He put words together quickly into sentences and then into phrases and then into complex thoughts. I can only think he had so much to say that first year that he just wasn’t able to get out.

And since that first hard year since his birth, we have had the most delightful following four years. This may sound cliche, but to know this guy is to love him. To us (grandparents & sister included) he is one of the most interesting individuals we have ever met. His thoughts are so intriguing and complex. He wakes up in the morning ready to go for the day and he plays….every minute he can. In fact, when we took a short trip overnight he cried when we arrived at the hotel, because he didn’t “get his playtime in.” He loves his sister dearly and holds his own playing with her despite the age difference.

Those who teach him in class or come across him often get a twinkle in their eye when they speak of him. He finds humor in things and loves adventure and travel. His heart is so tender and he always tells you (and often others–cringe) exactly what is on his mind. He will challenge you on your knowledge of animals and he always has time for cuddling with mom and dad. He breaks out in “expressive dance” regularly when you are not looking. Several years ago while singing “Living La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin he said “Living Va Lida Locust”. Nothing says it clearer.

When I think of the past 5 years of his life, my overarching feeling and thought is, “Thank you Lord for this wonderful gift of our son. How did we ever get so blessed to be his parents?” So today, happy 5th birthday Young Jedi. You are truly amazing.

-julie

Our tiny dog Celli (named “Botticelli Venus” after my favorite painting) passed away January 22nd from mast cell cancer. For several months she had battled fast growing tumors popping up near her mouth and salivary glands. After 3 successful surgeries catching them in the initial stages, she took a turn for the worse when a growth in her salivary gland decreased her appetite and made it difficult to keep food down.

God had planned the timing because she died, much to my shock, on the very day our family was in flight over the Atlantic Ocean back to Wales. My mom took her to the doctor that morning after taking us to the airport only to find out that another tumor was growing. After struggling with her food for days, by night she was barely reacting. When you only weigh 3.5 pounds, days of little food have a great effect on your body.

I have to admit that it was a strange homecoming to Wales mourning the death of one’s beloved dog.

It was always hard for us leaving her in Texas with my parents when we moved to Wales because we knew it would be a dreadful adjustment for her coming to Wales, but God had amazing grace on Brad and I as we were able to enjoy her fully for the 6 months we spent in the US. She was happy and herself until the very end and loved our children very much.

I said goodbye to her on the morning we left the country, knowing that I would never see her again, but God, in his extreme kindness allowed me to be with her for all of her last days. And how amazing was that?

My parents were saints through it all and loved her immensely. They had to say goodbye to their children and grandchildren as they left on a plane in the morning and goodbye forever to their precious little adopted dog as night came around. What wonderful memories we have with such a small dog who held a large place in our heart.

-julie

Friday at my weekly ladies community group I learned how to make sushi from a lovely South American lady. I was so excited that I had Brad driving me all over our side of town to find the local Asian market to gather my items. Today I had my first try (vegetarian & smoked salmon with veggies) and it was delicious. Brad was so eager for me to succeed that he was hovering in the kitchen all morning; something that is a rarity in our household. The kids were giddy too.

Goodbye store bought sushi…..hello homemade!