Trailblazing 2007

One year finished. 365 days. 8 765.81277 hours. 525 948.766 minutes put to rest. Minutes and minutes of the littles repeating phonic drills, building lego creations, and collecting slimy critters discovered squirming under rocks. Hours of Plutarch and Wadsworth, packing, unpacking, reading, swimming, lakeside picnics and hikes, campires, butterflies and birdies, and traveling. Quotidian hours of dishes, laundry, bathhouse trips with all my ducks in a row, and the tilling. sowing, and care for these growing plants. Days of beauty... and discovery... and laughter. All witnessed with eyes of wonder...

I was compelled before the new year was through to look back and see the trail we've meandered. I perused my 2007 personal journals and I see the first part of the year I was feeling such tremendous pressure: reducing all of our 'stuff' and logistics were on my mind constantly. Tremblings during midnight scribblings see me questioning everything. Searching out the good things; the needful thing.

Early in the journey, some folks, even more those close in heart, were concerned and critical, and sometimes I entertained their thoughts in my head too long. It was there that despair would rear its ugly, yet formidable, head. My own personal closet of hell. Perhaps when we shut the door on the home, and all of the materialistic trenches were filled in: when clothes and books and appliances and things and stuff and more stuff were gone, it would be determined that my quixotic attempts at living authentically, at seeking a better way to live and love and homeschool...on the road and with much less... would fail.

It was the children: the true adventurers in this new trail, that fueled me during those frightening moments. Their enthusiasm was evident by the amount of work they carried during our downsizing, and manifested itself during their conversations. Trips to the thrift shops and Goodwill; manning the tables during our frigid yard sale; carrying out furniture piece after furniture piece to Craig's List buyers, and ebulliently describing our plans and adventures they imagined to anyone who would listen. They had a contagious laughter above the chaos, and infected everyone that came in contact. Including their mama...

Contemplating all that was dreamed and hoped for, I'm heavy in thought and somewhat at a loss for words at how different; how much more opulent the view is than what I expected. I've tried to do my best to give a word picture of some of the trails we've traveled during our 2007 year.


Tempests and Zephyrs


Upon closing the door on the sticks and bricks home, we were met by a tempest. A literal tempest. A cold and windy nor'easter which began dumping rainfall of biblical proportions. As we left, we received word that our new 5th wheel may not be delivered for a week due to the heavy snows inland. So there we were, all 8 of us, in a pop-up with winds whipping and rain pelting the roof and it sounded as if, in the words of our six year old, "God is throwing lego blocks at the roof." Three days of rain and the river we were near was almost over the banks. We wondered if instead of a trailer we should have invested in a houseboat. Michael and I made the choice to flee the area before the solitary winding country road was cut off by the river, and stayed at a hotel for a night. The storm finally subsided after the weekend, and we were wringing things out and wiping up mud for weeks.

If that wasn't enough to make one reconsider, try hiking after said nor'easter, and having loose ground give way and falling 20 some odd feet and break a rib. Yep, this was going to be a long, strange, journey...

Our October fall camping experiences dealt us our zephyr. Enjoying the canopy of the regal forests changing before us in the Northeast, a quick, strong, cold front swept in and levied 70 mph winds against our rigs and tore our awning. Acorns and pinecones became missles in the forest; horse chesnuts were downright deadly. In a short 24 hours, the towering trees gave up the ghost and laid before me their caftans of florid crimson and shawls of titian umber. A forest of auralent leaves to glow in the autumn harvest moon and illuminate the hiking paths. And I did partake...


Earth Day 2007


I was supposed to speak at a gathering on Earth Day, but due to my injuries, decided to stick close to home and nurse myself back to health. I was beguiled by the Disovery Channel's showing of Planet Earth. To be carried by means of the TV screen, to the corners of the earth. The cinematography and scope of the subjects is unparalled in any of the wildlife, nature, and environmental movies I've witnessed. As a caveat to my earlier recommendation to get the series (now on sale for only $60- down from $80) get the package that has Sigourney Weaver as the narrator. The BBC issued the first editions and they contain Sir Richard Attenbourgh, famed actor and naturalist, as the narrator, and the musical score is also very different from the one released in America. The content is the same, but I liked Weaver's dramatic reading, emotion, and the music better. That's my humble opinion, for what it's worth.


Pruning and Blossoming


I found as the internet was virtually unreachable, I searched and searched for alternate ways to get online. It soon became apparent that for this stage of the journey, I had to close the doors on much and let go of the umbilical cord I had tethered to my life. I laid bare all that I had built up as altars and high places. Mindsets... and motives. It became a daily tree trimming and pruning of this plant. It seemed counterintuitive to pluck and prune a budding plant and I wrestled. Daily. Nightly. "Bless me!", I cried. And He did.

In solitude we can listen to the voice of him who spoke to us before we could speak a word, who healed us before we could make any gesture to help, who set us free long before we could free others, and who loved us long before we could give love to anyone. It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having, and that we are worth more than the result of our efforts. In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared. ~ Out of Solitude, by Henri Nouwen

Solitude was a blessing. Thinking that the real adventure would come with the "big things"; instead my expectations came face to face with celestial delights that proved to illuminate the most quiet and serene moments and catapult them onto the stage called life. To be enjoyed. To be savored. I found myself in a boundless voyage of discovery and wonder. In seeking not just new landscapes, but in having new eyes... and a new heart.


Wandering and Wondering


All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.

Without the daily cacophony that can accompany the newsfeeds, groups, and readings on the internet, I sought even more of Him. An excerpt from my journals:

Being away from the rigors of what had become the everyday, and rediscovering a new 'everyday'; a simpler, gentler, everyday, has shown me so many miracles in the mundane; quiet hallowed halls at the sinks doing dishes that are now empty, but stomachs are full; bluebirds, catbirds, and goldfinches singing with me In Life's Earnest Morning, or I'll Fly Away as I hang the laundry in the morning on the racks outside the wagon.

The dragonfly that lands on my hand... that trusts me completely that I won't hurt it, and the salamander that hopes I'll put the rock back down gently after giving praise to our Creator for such intricacies. The excitement I get at seeing a blade of grass or seedling stretching from the forest floor for sunlight, or the goslings that are shedding their down, nestled on all sides by wary and protective parents who question my motives for sitting still so near to their little ones. Or the deer who allows me to walk up the same lake in the pre-dawn hours, fog lifting as we meet eye to eye, and we speak, without uttering a word, of panting for the same water of life.

This is the beauty in the simple and common. And I am loving it.

I also did a study on Bedouin, nomadic travel, and tent living in the Bible and other sources. Very, very enlightening...

What started out as a seed has blossomed into a field. The thoughts of whether we ever want to stop traveling has even been mentioned. What of the future? I await the manna from above...
and am measuring every day of my life knowing it is but a vapor...


Listening to my Life

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” ~Buechner

During our travels this summer, the refrigerator broke in the big RV. We quickly replaced the cooling of our foods with our two marine coolers. I thought it would be a hardship that I was would be unable to handle. But instead I felt inspired... I researched and procured local sources, and changed our menu to become as basic as possible. And that's how we lived the whole summer and fall. I am grateful for the trail we were led to travel, for without the use of refrigeration, I was able to feed my family from local harvests and our CSA share. Our foods were nutritional and cheap! Over 85% of our meals from June 2 to October 30 were from local farmers. And they were good and bountiful and delicious harvests indeed!

I'm listening. To every day; good or bad. One of the biggest blessings from our removal from the rat race is the ability to listen and hear. Him. Instructions. Exhortations. Rebukes...and encouragement. Directions. Comfort. Hope. Love. Peace. Every breath I take is a prayer; every sigh a worship song. To listen to this life I've been commissioned to live. To all the hurt. To all the joy... All is grace.

To be awake is alive! What a gift I've been given. What will I do with that gift? I'm Listening. I'm Studying. I'm tilling and sowing. Seeds to plant in the soul.

And we end the year 2007 with one of my littles summing it all up:

It's been the best year of my life.

Shalom,

Carla Lynne Klimuk