here

  Today I am in a thoughtful state of mind.  

Everything feels deep and real.

 I think it would be easy, very easy, for me to look backward. To look back at all I left last Wednesday. To see my mom crying as she hugged my big boys.  To see Julie's eyes looking into mine, telling me she loves me so much.  To see Samuel reach for that sweet baby and hold him, knowing that he was really going to miss him.  To see Josh's dad crying watching all of us.

I could easily close my eyes every morning and weep (like I am right now) for all that was there.

I could think back to the moment in the security line when, as I cried silent tears that refused to stop, Jack buried his bug-eyed glasses into my thighs and let out a sob the likes of which I have never heard from a four year old.  The hiccupping cry that followed shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces and I wondered if we were making the right decision.

I could focus on how much work it is to travel with our many small children, or the fact that the co-op didn't have eggs or flour for the last week, making baking for my family very difficult.  I could focus on the devastating news that today in Marshall a man was lost in the river.  His boat was found, floating alone, un-manned, and the state troopers came in on a plane equipped for a water landing to search for him.

But instead, I must place my focus here.  I must turn off all those noisy channels and let my eyes rest on those three blond babes I came here to raise.  I was re-reading In Praise of Stay-At-Home-Moms by Laura Schlessinger this afternoon, and it reaffirmed what I am doing here.  I chose this. I knew we could stay in Vancouver, Josh subbing and me working at Lincoln.  That was an option.  

But really  not.  When Josh left for work on Thursday last week I held that baby on my hip, a twin flanking either side of me in the Arctic Entry, hugging, kissing, wishing Daddy farewell, and the tears of protest on Wyatt's cheeks almost crushed me.  I cannot even imagine if those tears had been for my own departure.  I am so incredibly grateful for Josh.  For his willingness to support my being home; for his willingness to do what it took to get a job; for his willingness to let me follow my heart.

 This quote on Nie Nie's blog spoke to me as well today:

 "Do the best you can through these years, but whatever else you do, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones. Mothers, we acknowledge and esteem your faith in every footstep. Please know that it is worth it then, now, and forever." 

-Jeffrey R. Holland

The baby has been waking up at night, sometimes once, sometimes twice, and we were attempting to rectify this situation by having him cry it out at bed & nap times, putting himself to sleep.  Then this afternoon I had a revelation.  How about I make my own rules? Wyatt may very well be our last baby.  I am certainly not making any permanent decisions, but if he is my last, I am going to treat him as such.  So this evening I broke the news to Josh.  I will be nursing & rocking Wyatt to sleep until further notice.  When his night wakings start to bother me enough, I may change my mind, but for now, I am content to hold my sweet baby in my arms as he sleeps.  Deciding that I could make my own decisions was so freeing! (And, Josh was fully supportive.)

And isn't that exactly what this whole journey is about? Not just my Alaska journey, but everyone's journey? Discovering within yourself the ability to make & live by your own rules?  Sure, living in rural Alaska provides its own challenges, and I will overcome those as I happen across them, but so much of it is choosing to be happy.  Here. 

I choose happy here by playing music in the afternoons & having "dance parties" with the boys.
  I choose happy here by lighting candles and making what could just be a house a "home".
I choose happy here by rejoicing in my three boys (perhaps not all day, everyday, but most days) and by turning to my husband as my best friend.

I also want you to choose happy here. Wherever here may be.  And your happy may not make sense to anyone else. That's okay.  Your happy only has to make sense to you.  For example, this summer, I found two new favorite songs.  It is embarrassing to admit to the world what they are, but they make me happy, so to prove my point I will tell you.

The first is Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.

The second is What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction.

They are just so dang "poppy" & cheerful.  

I can't help but "get the moves" as Jack & Logan would say, when I hear them.

 So when you  hear them on the radio, smile to yourself, let your hips shake and think of me, being a dork, rocking out in the pilot, completely humiliating my children.  Meanwhile, I will find joy here.  Joy in reuniting with other teachers who (thankfully!) came back; joy in students happy to see us; and joy in so many natives welcoming us home.  

I will promise to find joy here,

if you promise to be happy there.

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; 
but often we look so long at the closed door
we do not see the one which has been opened for us."
-Helen Keller