I'm learning 2 new skills and they make my arms tired. I worked on both of them today.
Ice skating and knitting.
Both make my arms tired. I wouldn't have known that either of them were such a good upper body workout until I tried them. But when you're as tense as I am while participating in these activities, your arms get tired.
Yes! I'm gonna be so buff!
By the way, I was trying some Olympic moves on the ice today. I turned in a circle. I had a bit of trouble stopping, but I did turn in a circle.
Kendall was a bit better at the Olympic moves. I asked him to skate without his hockey stick. (It seems to be a bit of a crutch for him on the ice.) He said it felt awkward to skate without the stick, but agreed to demonstrate. Then, at my urging, he skated backwards and did some fancy tricks when I begged for a pirouette. He also did some scary tricks, including skating straight at me full speed ahead. There I was, directly in his path, balancing on my ice skates. I couldn't move. (For 2 reasons: I was frozen in fear and I couldn't move.) He flew toward me then screeched to a halt a few feet from me.
Kendall was happy to get his hockey stick back after the pirouettes and triple axles. With great relief he said, "I feel like I need to take a couple slap shots after that!" and raced off toward the goal with the puck.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lao-tzu
July 1, 2008
This journey so far has taken me one thousand and four miles from my hometown, but I’m having trouble putting my finger on the single step that began it all. Was it Monday afternoon at the border when they gave me my official document allowing me to pass? Was it Saturday morning when we started the car and drove out of Goshen in our funny little caravan? Was it in February when we came up to Red Lake for a job interview at the hospital? Was it two Christmases ago being up here with Kendall’s family and all of us rating our desire to live up here? (I can’t say my number on a scale of 1 – 100 was high, but it was the highest of all the in-laws, so I guess I’m the chosen one.) Was it three years ago almost to the day that Kendall first said, “What if we’d move up here?” (I tried to ignore that one for several months, thinking surely it would go away.) Or was it June 10, 2000 when I married Kendall and made some solemn promises before God and all these witnesses? Was it a night before Kendall and I were married when we talked about moving to Red Lake? (It was a far off and romantic possibility at that time.) Or was it living in and visiting different cultures at different times in my life? Could the first step have been when my parents brought me as a baby to this same area for a year of voluntary service? (Kendall wasn’t born yet, but I surely saw his parents as they chatted with mine from time to time.) What about when my dad lived on a nearby reserve for two years before he was married? Or when my mom visited this town with her family as a teenager? Or maybe it had something to do with choices my grandparents made? Or other ancestors farther back?
At any rate, moving into this house where I slept for a few weeks as a baby and where my dad stayed as a teenager, has made me very aware of roots. And how they affect our lives and choices and passions.
I suspect there is no single step that began our move a thousand miles away from Indiana. It seems, rather, to be a coming together of so many different factors. (Not the least of which is marrying a man who has taken this land as a very part of his being. And for all the ways I can tease him and get annoyed at some of his woodsman ways, I really do mean that in a reverent and respectful way.)
So here we are, a thousand miles from nowhere. (Oops…I meant a thousand miles from Goshen.) I know that we safely made the journey here, but mostly our journey is just beginning. And mostly I’m excited.
This journey so far has taken me one thousand and four miles from my hometown, but I’m having trouble putting my finger on the single step that began it all. Was it Monday afternoon at the border when they gave me my official document allowing me to pass? Was it Saturday morning when we started the car and drove out of Goshen in our funny little caravan? Was it in February when we came up to Red Lake for a job interview at the hospital? Was it two Christmases ago being up here with Kendall’s family and all of us rating our desire to live up here? (I can’t say my number on a scale of 1 – 100 was high, but it was the highest of all the in-laws, so I guess I’m the chosen one.) Was it three years ago almost to the day that Kendall first said, “What if we’d move up here?” (I tried to ignore that one for several months, thinking surely it would go away.) Or was it June 10, 2000 when I married Kendall and made some solemn promises before God and all these witnesses? Was it a night before Kendall and I were married when we talked about moving to Red Lake? (It was a far off and romantic possibility at that time.) Or was it living in and visiting different cultures at different times in my life? Could the first step have been when my parents brought me as a baby to this same area for a year of voluntary service? (Kendall wasn’t born yet, but I surely saw his parents as they chatted with mine from time to time.) What about when my dad lived on a nearby reserve for two years before he was married? Or when my mom visited this town with her family as a teenager? Or maybe it had something to do with choices my grandparents made? Or other ancestors farther back?
At any rate, moving into this house where I slept for a few weeks as a baby and where my dad stayed as a teenager, has made me very aware of roots. And how they affect our lives and choices and passions.
I suspect there is no single step that began our move a thousand miles away from Indiana. It seems, rather, to be a coming together of so many different factors. (Not the least of which is marrying a man who has taken this land as a very part of his being. And for all the ways I can tease him and get annoyed at some of his woodsman ways, I really do mean that in a reverent and respectful way.)
So here we are, a thousand miles from nowhere. (Oops…I meant a thousand miles from Goshen.) I know that we safely made the journey here, but mostly our journey is just beginning. And mostly I’m excited.
5 comments:
I think Kendall should be on the Canadian Hockey team. I've seen him play already. dave
I've definitely had sore arms from knitting before. I've been doing a bunch of knitting lately but I have to restrict it to every other day because of my hands and arms hurting after a while. It's totally legitimate!
I love the the "picture" of Kendall skating toward you full blast... onery husband... Mom
I love the picture of Karen knitting so fast her arms are just flying:) Go Karen!!
Hey Girl, just letting you know I was here, catching up on your life since we just say a passing "hello, goodbye" when we meet in person. =/ It was good to be at your house a bit before we left on our trip. By the way, I really like reading your blog. Your boys (all 3 of them) make me smile. =) Actually, you do, too! =) =) ~~Iris
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