McCall Connection: Soft Toilet Paper and Summertime

Two months later, we have trekked across country and are nearly to the next chapter of our lives. The in between has been a blessing and a lot of packing, unpacking and miles on the road.

Leaving Haiti nearly broke our hearts but like the cliche goes, time heals everything.

We landed in Ft. Lauderdale just on the other side of the same water. So much familiar, and so much different. The turf was the same, we are different. The rain kept us from bathing in the sun but the girls spent the majority of their few days in FL in the hot shower and under the sheets of the "most comfortable bed ever." There were a lot of thank you, Jesus, prayers in that short few days. My joints were relieved to see even ground with every step of a run and Farmer was eternally grateful for the world of AC.

We picked Mack up and dropped him off in a matter of days but in the mean time were all grateful that we all made it back to the States. We made our way through Florida with family and saw the sunset in St. Augustine. We were able to meet our most recent cousin Luke for the first time! The girls then begged for a baby brother to which I reminded him they already have despite his not so small size and four large paws.

Our next adventures included a girls' trip to Mississippi to see old friends, meet new babies, pick up suitcases, cry with loved ones, sleepovers and giggles. The trip did include a number of culture shock stories but I'll just tell you two. One occurred in the doctor's office when Lilly was being tested for TB. Ava walks into the restroom and washes her hands. I'm not sure why this time and not others, she screams, "look everyone, there's water coming out of the faucet!!!!!!" We were living in Haiti without running water for a few weeks before we left but I found it odd that this one particular instance created such a response from her. Of course everyone in the office stopped and turned around to which she looked puzzled and asked, "what?" The same day we met a friend for dinner and as we pulled up to Newk's, Lilly collected all the water bottles to take inside in order to fill them up. She had forgotten they will give you a cup in this country with your dinner and the water is safe to drink. Ava will still not drink from sink water, she constantly comments on the soft toilet paper and they thank the good Lord for every day the "generator is working" in this country.

It was just a girls trip because Farmer was on his own road trip in our Explorer which had been sitting idle for our entire Haiti stint. He was quickly aware that the vehicle had been home to more than just his old sunglasses and bumper stickers when a dozen wasps flew out of the gas tank upon his first stop at the Shell station. Thank you, Farmer, for taking more than one for the team. His swollen, bitten, self was also alarmed by ticks and other creatures who had infested the car and were uninterested in their involuntary awakening. He made it to Northern Virginia where he had meetings with friends and owners of two businesses that were in his mind perfect for our next step. One of farmer's closest friends, Scott, owns and operates a custom home building company that has been successfully growing the last few years. He has been interested in Farmer helping with it for a while but was patient to extend an offer until after we had returned from Haiti. Scott's other business is still developing and is one of the most magnificent pieces of land these eyes have seen. Edgegrove Farms is 60 acres of land that Scott and his wife, Kelley, are in the beginning processes of farming. They sell the eggs and her home cooking is proof of what is to come between the fresh vegetables, chickens, homemade breads, etc. Farmer learned the ins and outs that he could in a week and came back on Father's Day for some live music and Memphis barbecue with his girls.

It was only a few days later we were all back in the car together and Texas bound. It was so good to be on our way to Texas. It felt like home. Well, to all but Ava. She was dying to get back to Haiti. Our skypes with friends in Haiti made it bittersweet for all of us, especially her. Ava's GI episodes made me glad to be on this side of rice and beans. Dallas and Waco were a whirlwind of fun. We swam and baked and laughed and cried. We were reunited with old friends, sat in the congregation of our home church and stayed up way too late talking real life with connected souls. My best friend and the girls' best friends were all together for a few days of bliss. We sat wondering how we could absorb any more of the time together than we already were. And we watched out the car window after tear-filled goodbyes, little girls running the block to wave until we were out of sight. But Texas is a big state and we weren't leaving yet. We drove south to Port Aransas to see all of Farmer's family. It was a perfect week on the beach with 15 mile runs and late night drive thru. Farmer jumped the waves and the girls built sandcastles. Cousins loved cousins and we were all glad for the time together. Meredith and I talked about parenting and races, anniversaries and moves, all over 5 am runs on the waterfront. It was healing and happy.

Grandparents lined their grands up in flag shirts and we watched the fireworks off the balcony. It was America at its best. We mourned a lost soul, a victim of rip tide in the ocean swept off the coast on the fourth of July. Time with people is my favorite thing on this side of heaven. I love how it can go so deep. Family is deep and rich and irreplaceable on many levels. Mimi, Farmer's grandmother and the family matriarch, was present for lunch and I can only imagine what life must be like when you are seasoned and long lived, and your family is all there together. It must be paramount. The week was nearly over when Farmer was moving car seats and shopping at Academy for string and GU. Our trek was up next.

Farmer and I left at 4 a.m. for New Mexico. The girls would stay another night with grandparents and head east for Memphis. It made me sad to say goodbye but Farmer and I rarely sulk over absent toddlers. We stopped periodically and bathroom trips were less than 3 minutes unlike the average wash my hands, wash Ava's hands, say no to a million gas station sugar-filled items, and fight over do I have to wear my seatbelt kind of stops I was used to. We landed in Albuquerque with the red and green chile enchiladas Farmer dreams of. This is not going to be the typical vacation, we decided. We spent the rest of the trip wondering what type of snacks and gear we needed for the trail. I was clueless and of no help. We were in bed before midnight in our very authentic New Mexican hotel. I was up crazy early and reading the newspaper with coffee in hand - a luxurious rarity for me.

The Albuquerque to Arizona leg was effortless and we were at the Grand Canyon by early afternoon - just in time for a run along the rim and a quick stop at the General Store. Because why not run along one of the most beautiful rims in the world at sunset and take a quick peek of what trails are ahead? Farmer was less enthused about using up his "legs" for a run when a long hike was ahead. I was useless after the run since I know NOTHING about packing a backpack for a three-day, 50-mile hike in the Grand Canyon. I lay sound asleep on the floor of the Bright Angel Lodge surrounded by Cliff Bars, trail mix and a number of odds and ends that were on a general packing list. He packed. I slept. He woke me up at 9:45pm and told me the restaurant was closing, did I want any dinner? At 10pm, no thanks. Epic mistake. When one goes down in the Canyon for days, dinner the night before is ideal. Skipping is like starting a road trip with an empty tank. The trip, however, was one of the best ever!! Farmer had been down in the Canyon in 1988 when he was 8 years old. His parents were a little more adventuresome than most and he and his siblings were told to meet his parents at the bottom of the Canyon - 10 miles down. He had a single bottle of water. They hiked down and back out in the same day only to sleep in a parking lot when they arrived at the car after dark. These days the park rangers stress hydration and discourage in and out hikes the same day. We miraculously made reservations only a few weeks prior to our trip and were thankful for all the small miracles along the way. We had packs, trekking poles, snacks and a change of clothes. We started at sunrise and went down the Bright Angel Trail. We were there by lunch time and almond butter and banana never tasted so good. We chose the bunk bed in the dorms and spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping off the hike and wading in the creek. He had found a bench and sat it right down in the creek allowing the cold water to rush over our weary legs. We joined a room full of hikers in the dining hall for steak dinner that evening. Talk about some crazy walks of life. It's a magnet for the ultrarunners, the older go getters, the odd honeymooners, the young singles, and the avid locals. We repacked our bags and were in bed before dark.

Thursday morning we were up at 4 and out the door with headlamps. We were going to try to make it as far as we could to the North Rim acknowledging 14 miles was a little too ambitious for the morning. We had a 6:30pm dinner reservation that Farmer had no intention of missing. The ibuprofen had worked and my legs were ready for the hike. We climbed the morning hours faster than anticipated and in next to no time we were half way to the top. At some point in the morning we realized the top was a possible goal and that if we kept a quick pace, we would make it before noon. We also could replenish our water at the top so we went for it. The sights at sunrise from the bottom of the Canyon cannot accurately be described in words or even come close. It is bigger than my imagination. Breathtaking. We started asking hikers how long they'd been hiking to gauge the time we lacked to the top. Farmer was getting pale and had surpassed being hungry. We knew we didn't have long before we would have to turn around. When we started seeing certain people who didn't fit the hiker's build in jeans and flip flops, we knew we were close to the summit. We made it to the top just after 11 a.m. and feasted on tuna packets and beef jerky. It was delightful to sit for a few minutes. But because we were on a tight schedule we were on our way back down less than a half hour later. The trek down was just as beautiful and just as we got to the Box, the clouds covered the sun and the heat dissipated. About 7 miles out from the bottom, we decided to jog along the creek. I had been talking about running it rim to rim on my next visit and to my surprise Farmer mentioned jogging a little. We tightened our packs and jogged the last 7 miles off and on. By the last two miles our legs were like jelly and we were anticipating the creek's cold water rushing over our weary legs. At last we reached Phantom Ranch and had an hour to spare for dinner. An unforgettable day. 28 miles and 12.5 hours later. We showered and ate our fill of hiker's stew. After dinner, an older couple were making fun of hikers coming out of the dining hall with their lactic acid post-hike walk. They called it the "Phantom Shuffle." Farmer was curious what they hiked to be making light of other's endeavors. They mentioned they had been up to the North Rim and back down in significantly less time than us. Farmer snickered almost. He said to me on his way back to the dorm, "yeah right." We were passed out before 8pm again. Friday morning started in the dark as well and the 5 hour hike up South Kaibab was steeper than I expected even with fair warning. But it was gorgeous. I agree with those who say it's well worth the incline for the view. Our legs were sore but not handicapped. We hiked at a decent pace and with every turn, another flight of sandy steps. It felt like the stairway to Heaven if one ever existed. The vastness was like none other I had experienced. About two thirds of the way up - at Skeleton's Pass (not an encouraging name for the weary hiker), we heard - "oh look, it's the Haiti couple." And like that, the wrinkly, elderly couple passed us without even a labored breath. It was like being passed by your grandmother at the end of a marathon. A humble moment. We were out of the Canyon and in some strange Canyon culture shock as we returned to our car. We sat down for a nice big breakfast at around 9:30 and were so hungry we asked if we could stay and order lunch! My shoes and toes were all duck taped and hands all bloodied from hours with trekkking poles. I wanted to throw all the bars and trail mix out after eating it for days.

And like that, we took one last look while Farmer ate a large cone full of ice cream and we left. A memory stamped in our minds forever. Back to the world of technology and back on the road headed East.

On the way from Albuquerque to the Grand Canyon I had been reading Runner's World cover to cover. I remembered passing a small exit and Farmer saying that's where I got us a hotel room on our way back after the Canyon. There wasn't much to it but a few gas stations and desert. It started with an "H." Within the hour, I was reading the upcoming races when I came across one named the Bucket of Blood Half Marathon and I thought how morbid to name it that. I read the details out loud to Farmer and then stopped dead in my tracks. I just knew in the middle of reading that that it was in Hollbrook, AZ, and that was exactly where we were staying the night before the race. Too good to be true. I told him right them I'd be signing up to run the day after the Canyon. He was sure it was wishful thinking and I would be spent before the weekend's race. And here we were on the way to Hollbrook Friday afternoon. I told him where the sign up was and how it was such a deal to only pay $50 for a half marathon. And 12 hours later I was at the start line listening to the brief description of how it would be 90% desert trail and a few water stops and no mile markers. The race director had no gun, no time chips and no worries. And like that I disappeared into the desert in a small crowd of runners in "Navajo Country." My first AZ desert run. It wasn't trails like Cameron Park or wooded hikes. It was loose sand like a red beach front but in the middle of nowhere. I could see the guys in the lead way off because there was nothing but miles of brush in between us. Every once in a while Farmer would pop up with a bottle of water for me and an extra pair of socks since I had blisters on every toe. I could see a couple of girls in front of me but with every loop could not manage to convince my legs to move past the pain to catch them. It's really hard to gauge miles with tired legs. I kept guessing and in the mean time turned on some tunes. At one point a guy passed me and I asked him if he had any idea what distance we had run and he said just over 7 as he sped up. At the next water station they told me they thought it was mile 6. I laughed. Now I'm going backwards am I. A cruel joke to tired runners! I left the last loop of sandy trail and audibly thanked God for the asphalt. Loose sand is unforgiving. Asphalt was a gift. I saw Farmer and he said it's probably less than 2 miles, speed it up. I ran a little harder and passed a few more people. I came in right at 1:42 and was pleased that I finished. I did have to laugh when I realized there was not one drop of water in sight. Not a single drop. At the Canyon they push hydration constantly but at a desert trail run in AZ, water is scarce. No "here's a medal and some water." It was even funnier they handed me a free beer. The whole thing was fun! The girl who beat me was 40 and is a local. She says she trains in the high altitude desert trails daily and was looking over her shoulder at me the whole time. She had legs that ran like a gazelle and mine felt like lead. We left the race and passed the motel we had seen the night before - Wigwam Motel - "have you slept in a wigwam lately?" We had captured it with the camera and made a note to book it next trip.

And like that we were on our way to Santa Fe with a really great evening with friends and cousins Ben and Ginger. They spoiled us at Fire and Hops with world's best brussels sprouts and seared salmon. The night ended with hoola hooping and a few rounds of corn toss in the dark. The trip continued East through Oklahoma City and back down to Memphis. We were met by the girls on the porch with their short hair and their own adventures.

Only a few days later and we were back on the road to Tabernacle. The land of fried chicken and afternoon naps on the swing bed. Neshoba County Fair meets Methodist revival. It is a place my children compare to Narnia with which they use the word "magical." It is a heritage I hope we never underplay or stray from. We were there on Thursday rolling out the table cloth and setting up fans. The weather forecast said 102 all weekend but mom says her prayers tell her otherwise. Mom licked the white gravy clean from the bowl and the week of "camp meeting" began.

We enjoyed the week of Max Mayo's preaching and Puddin's cooking. We ran farm roads and played ping pong. The girls caught frogs and lightning bugs and we sang the hymns we long for all year. It was good to see all of the cousins and share in our victories as well as the challenges of the year. We sweated it out on the swing and drank sweet tea to keep cool. Our family celebrated the baptism of my nephew and the rare experience we were all together at the same place.

We loved and laughed and caught up on sleep. My highlight this year was the freedom Tabernacle provided that I haven't known in recent years with early bedtimes, nursing and the neediness of toddlers. This year was full of "see ya later" and "gotta go, mom." Packing up Friday ended with good memories of family together and another "magical" year on the camp grounds.

The weekend was full with a girls' night, a capital street caramel, picking up Mack, a celebration of two friends tying the knot and some last minute shopping with mom. The girls enjoyed the grandparents one more weekend and Farmer graciously packed a 26 ft moving truck headed for Virginia. He and others moved everything in 100 degree heat and too many boxes to count.

By Monday we were on a one-way road trip with stops all week. We had a full day of Safari Park in TN before arriving in Nashville to see Tia and Everett. It was a lot of drinking coffee and playing with blocks on the floor with them. A great trip to the library and a tour around Cumberland Park made it complete. The girls and I are smitten over Ev. Sarah is quite the mom always giving him a ride in her Ergo or offering him blueberries.

We made it to Kingston to one of the loveliest places I have ever stayed. We were at the Whitestone Inn on our way to Virginia. We arrived and checked in to our Hummingbird Suite before going upstairs to a fancy dinner. The girls were most delighted that they could drink the (decaf) sweet tea and that dessert was included! The couple next to us asked where we were from and where we are headed to which both girls look super puzzled since they really never know what to say to either question. Ava blurted out Haiti and we told them the brief version of our transition. The girls were drawn to them and it wasn't long before we were chatting about life, parenting and getting away for a while. We watched the hummingbirds drink the pink simple syrup and I took in the moment of having the girls at dinner with me. It was delightful. We feasted on a four course meal and missed Farmer more than ever. At the end of the meal our server let us know our meal had been payed for. What a blessing! I suspected it was the couple we had chatted with at dinner. A random act of kindness that left me smiling as I got us all three into the one bed.

We spent our time there filled with hikes in sandals and dresses, petting horses, golf cart rides, fancy meals, laughter and a lot of down time. What a gift to be in a place of rest. I sat for a long time talking to the owners of Whitestone. Mrs. Jean had a vision and she and Mr. Paul didn't stop there. They prayed it through and started building. Now they have this beautiful haven that has blessed many. Her faithfulness was a testimony to me and I hope it not only inspires me but propels me to act in the next chapter of my life. When we checked out I was told the entire stay was covered by someone else. The girls and I rejoiced in the car for the "small gifts" that really ending up being unforgettable and all inspiring. Thank you to whoever chose to bless us that way.

Our drive was brief and only included a gas stop and Cracker Barrel stop to return the audio version of Charlotte's Web in which the last CD was too scratched to reveal the end. I guess Lilly has some more summer reading before school.

Our last stop included a night with old friends in the quaint downtown Charlotte. Laurabeth and Drew were great hosts and their little people were very happy to build forts and run through sprinklers with my little people. It was slow and easy and effortless to catch up where we left off. After a quick morning run, the girls and I hit the road for the last leg of the trip. We recited Matthew verses and listened to podcasts. I talked to an old friend who is always encouraging me through the parenting journey. The girls and I giggled over what's next for all of us at the farm and they listed off a number of questions to which I could not answer. They skyped with Coach and told them all about their fancy dinner and hiking adventures. Their lunch of choice for the second day in a row was salad from a salad bar. I know. All of you who think I've brainwashed them. I didn't even recommend it but Ruby Tuesday does have a decent salad bar and they just like the sheer pleasure of picking what goes in their to go box. At one point, I saw the Welcome to Virginia' sign when we crossed state lines and wanted to take a picture. I was too slow and decided there was an exit I could take right there and loop back around to snap the picture. In the few moments it took to loop back around there had been an accident and there we were in stand still traffic all for a sign I had wanted to capture. It was more than a sign. It was a pivotol point. We were in our new home state. We were almost home.

We pulled up to our new house just before sunset and grins were across our faces all around. Farmer and Doodad (his dad) were there to welcome us among the too-many-to-count boxes and suitcases. Thank you, Jesus, for our own space on green pastures.

2 Samuel 22:20 says "He brought me into a broad place. He rescued me because he delighted in me." It was true and real and concrete in that moment.

Farmer says we haven't experienced anything like this - Kelley has been cooking 'farm to table' meals all week and he's been spoiled rotten by good friends. He's been unloading, unpacking, and altogether jump starting our transition. Our next chapter of farm chores and rural living is about to start. I don't even know what to expect but I do know it's going to be good. It's what God's chosen and what we've chosen. We have community and freedom here. We have give and take and space to spread out. Our kids have friends, we have friends. It's an exciting new chapter and another revelation of his delight in us in an environment he considers to be the best for us.

And here's the summer in images ....