Hello summertime!

There's nothing like spring in Nebraska! However, I'm in Kansas where spring has proved just as amazing. There have been entire days where there is just a steady downpour of rain. For a Nebraska girl from the Sandhills, the fact that one might actually NEED an umbrella is a culture shock. But the grasses are green and blooming, the few cattle I've seen are already chest-deep in luscious green stalks.

Besides the rain and green grass, things have been changing here at Main Place as well!

At the end of May, two of our staff will be leaving this season of their lives for other God-given plans. The program director is heading to San Diego to plant a church there while my roommate is leaving to spend time with her family and prepare for a siblings wedding! I've only been here for a few months, but both of these women will be greatly missed at the house.

Some of our residents are preparing to graduate the program in a few months (PTL!) and it's been such a blessing to see Jesus work in their hearts and lives and bring about understanding. 

Personally, I've been running around the country like it's my job!

The first week of May I spent a few days in Atlanta, GA with some awesome cousins! They showed me the sights, took me out to eat, and were the best Georgia parents a "homeless" child could ask for. More than anything, though, I enjoyed listening to them tell stories of all the adventures they'd had and getting lots of advice about traveling, life, and taking care of aging cats. =) For the first time in my life, I boarded an airplane by myself and worked through all the travel issues on my own! Needless to say, I'll be doing it much more frequently in the future!

Two weeks ago, I watched three of my very dear friends graduate from college! I was at their high school graduations and I was so proud to see them finish their bachelor degrees. Seeing them walk across the stage, then spending the rest of the day laughing, talking and catching up made me so thankful that Jesus kept us all together through the years. I remember crying out to God years ago, that I didn't want to lose friends like these. The cries came from a selfish place but Jesus used those friendships to force me to grow and reach out to Him more and more.

My parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary by sorting cattle all day. This was the first year I haven't been home to start putting cattle out to pasture on our little slice of Heaven, in 12 years or so. It was bittersweet knowing that one of my favorite spring activities was happening without me, but "God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good."

Within the next few months, I'll be doing more traveling! In July I'm planning on taking a road trip with a college friend. In August, my partner in crime cousin, is getting married! My middle sister turns 16 and I'll be 23 this summer. June will be full of VBS', camps, and going to the pool. I'm hoping to start training to run a 10K this fall and I'm always on the hunt for a perfect cup of coffee. And thus sums up the life of a Nebraska expatriate in Kansas. =)

Prayer is often our last resort when issues arise, but God desires communication with us daily and in every circumstance. Prayers for the House this summer: that the girls will meet with Jesus while at camp in June, that they will realize God has plans for them as leaders in their communities as we work at VBS in town, and that each of them will learn that God's love for us has to spill over into loving others, no matter what we believe their circumstances to be. Prayers for the staff: that we will find a Jesus following, people loving, heart-led young woman to join our team of Teaching Parents, that God's strength in us will continue to grow, because our strength will always fail but His is always and forever present, and that we will speak the truth in love to our girls. Prayers for me personally: that I won't get homesick, that I will be present and forthright, and that Kansas doesn't smother my Nebraska roots.

You think I would learn

You'd honestly think that I would learn.
September is not traditionally a frigid month in Nebraska. It's a time of changing seasons: the cottonwoods, old creaking, giant trees, begin to change their leaves the bright green waving pieces turning brown and yellow before falling to the ground. The sea of green that was prevalent the entire summer suddenly becomes dotted with bright red bloodspots as the sumac plants shed their normally muted green leaves for the bright red suit of autumn. The air chills but not by much; every other day is still a good hay day or at least that's what my dad says.
Which is why, when the temperature suddenly dropped in the first few weeks of September, I refused to believe it.
Dad and I had been going out to the calving pasture every morning for the past few weeks to tag calves and run out pairs. This particular morning, I watched my dad dig out his winter coveralls, put on two layers of coats and his heavy boots. My dad usually digs out his coveralls as soon as the temp gauge hits 60 degrees. I usually don't dig mine out until much later. In fact, we tease him that he's just silly for wanting to put on his coveralls in the middle of summer.
So while the morning looked like another summer day, the gauge in the window said differently: a measly 36 degrees to start out the morning, and cloudy to boot.
Dad shrugged into his layers upon layers of clothes and I just put on a heavy coat, sweatshirt and my ball cap, chalking the coveralls up to my dad's overdeveloped sense of cold. I didn't bother to look at the temperature in the window myself.
You'd honestly think I would learn.
The clouds hung low and ominous over the green Nebraska prairie as a fine mist dripped onto everything. Beads hung on the tall grasses, Trees collected raindrops like fine diamonds, holding them on thin leaves until they grew too numerous for them to keep to themselves and they spilled from the sky in a shower of sparkles onto the gray earth below.
As soon as we pulled the four-wheelers out of the shop I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. The slight northern breeze felt like a hurricane force gale when combined with the self-created wind of the four-wheeler. I could already feel the sharp singing of the windburn begin on my cheeks. The thin summer gloves I'd decided would be enough for my fingers let every needle-like finger of wind through, numbing my hands until I couldn't feel my thumb anymore. But my pride, the same pride that made me ride on the sled behind the tractor during a winter storm without ever admitting to my dad how cold I was, kept me from running back to the house for more clothes.
I glanced at my dad from beneath the layers of hoods that I, thankfully, had conceded to wear. He looked cozy in his coveralls.
You'd honestly think I would learn.
We sorted off one pair. I watched, shivering as my dad searched through the dozens of little red tags in his pocket for the correct one. With a sinking heart, I watched him put ALL of the tags back in his pocket, look up, and say, "I'll have to run back and make one."
So there I sat, shivering in my Carhartt coat, one sweatshirt and summer gloves, holding myself as close to the warm four-wheeler as I could, cursing my stupidity only to have the words snatched away by that bone-chilling northern wind.
I tried to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. But mind over matter doesn't work on that north wind; it blows and howls without a care for anyone that stands in it's way, no matter how many blustery words they blow back at it.
If only I'd taken my dad at his word and put on my coveralls. After so many years he knows when it's cold out, really cold, coveralls cold.
You'd honestly think I would learn.

An ode to summer

If you rearrange the letters in SUMMER you get the word freedom.
Okay, so maybe not so much the exact word freedom but you get the sense. No school, no schedule, no snow, no boots just bare feet, pools and hayfields.
Summer in Nebraska means cool, humid dawns that rapidly dissolve into hot, muggy mornings which then transition into hay weather by early afternoon: hot and dry with a little breeze blowing in from the south. Clouds often build from wispy, thin strips on the western horizon into monstrous thunderheads by the time the sun sets. They rumble, deep, throaty voices making the whole plains shake. Time seems to stand still in those moments as the inhabitants of the summer plains wait to see if blessed rain will pour from the sky or if a sharp crack of lighting will steal the hard work of their hands from them in a flash of fire.
Freedom is playing with kittens all morning in the cool shadows of the house then clambering into the pool when the afternoon with it's oppressive heat comes sneaking along. It's spending so much time swimming that little red heads fade to blonde and freckles become more prominent.
Every day is spent gathering in the summer grass so that a little piece of the warmth can be unfurled when winter finally does come. A long arduous process that can seem monotonous becomes an adventure as the first few fawns of summer peep their heads above the long prairie grass and turkey nests come alive with baby chicks as the tractor roars close to their home. The sweet smell of mowed grass mingles in the air with the heavy fragrance of the wild plum bushes as they bloom in the humid summer evenings.
It's the first few sips of sun tea when the heat of the day is still lingering in the jar. It's the feel of laundry right off the clothesline, crisp and warm from time in the sun. It's racing back while chasing cattle as a storm closes in from the west. It's going to summer camp, having friends over, and celebrating birthdays. It's target practice and fair time. It's vacation Bible school and the croaking of frogs in the dam below the house.
Summer is freedom. hayfields, swimming, and thunderstorms.
The season is short and you have to savor every single moment, saving it to remember when the snows blow in and the temperature drops below zero.
Those sweet, free days of summer never last long. School starts too soon and before long those simple days of kittens and pools are just a happy memory.
Until next summer.