Hello Dear Ones,
Sometimes you blink and 4 months go by! First of all, thank you for spending your time here following our journey into an ordinary life in a new city. It’s been a while since our last update. The truth is that things have been somewhat challenging the last 5 months. I didn’t know it was possible to equally hold extreme goodness and experience incredible battles at the same time. It’s been a season of both-and the last several months.
The extreme goodness is that the Lord has provided for us immensely in this season of delight (more of which I’ll elaborate on in days ahead). Goodness also remains that we wake up in a part of the country that still makes our hearts burst with glee. The beauty in the Pacific Northwest is astounding. I have such an appreciation for the rainy season. While the clouds seem to hang lower and darker than normal, and the sun retreats, only making brief and intermittent appearances (if any) for months on end - you know that there is hope on the horizon. All of these wet, dark days will soon bring forth a bright, hot sun - parting the dark clouds of winter and calling forth every seed deep within the earth to sprout and abound in beautiful color. Before you know it, the trees are budding with beautiful blossoms and out of the cold dirt arise the brightest blooms.
We received many comments about how moving here in the summer was a spot-on decision, to enjoy the most incredible weather for 4 straight months as a way to ‘fill your tank’ ensuring you through the dreaded, dark, rainy season to come. It is true - your tank is overflowing by summer’s end. And it’s also true that the rainy season will come. Was it dark and dreaded? Not really. But there was some real symbolism for us in how the shifting of seasons from warm to cool, also began to shift some dynamics within our house. Dynamics that have turned out to be some of the most challenging things we’ve experienced. The dark skies rolled in and the Lassiter 5 were thrust into battle.
Within a one week period, our family moved for a second time within 7 months, I (Arlene) started a new job reporting in-office daily, Harlo started attending a new school which shifted her to full days of childcare, Maven began an after-school program making for long days, & Isla was no longer greeted by family awaiting her presence after hopping off the bus. I would suggest that Bryan is the only one who didn’t experience a major shift in his routine, but - corralling kiddos to be out of the house at an hour far earlier than they were used to and away from home longer than their previous normal - turned out to be enough to merit his own schedule alterations.
I shared with you in my last blog, that we had been experiencing incredible challenges with Harlo, our youngest (age 4). Her behavior was level 50/10 most hours of the day. Controlling, defiant, obsessive, angsty, and flat out rage. What on earth was happening? The fits of rage were highly concerning. They were crippling. For Harlo and for us. I have not wept in such desperation in my life. It was months on end. We were depleted. Something had sucked every last ounce of every element of joy and peace from our home. Nothing was fun, everything was a challenge. Our family dynamic was in upheaval. I knew immediately this was the enemy and I knew that it was going to take the healing power of Jesus to bring our daughter back and restore our family dynamic. So that’s exactly how I began to pray: “Jesus, heal our daughter. Heal the hurts, sadness, anxiety, and fear that her little body is experiencing. Remove this dark cloud from our family & restore to us the joy of your salvation. I know you will do it. I’m asking you to do it.”
In the middle of navigating what began to feel like one big game of whack-a-mole, we began to notice another dark cloud. This one over Isla, our oldest (age 12). Out of respect for her and the age-appropriate autonomy she holds as a maturing young lady, I will hold the details. She felt miles away from us. We felt miles away from her. Our hearts were anchors fallen deep at the bottom of a sea at this point. So heavy that everything was just: hard. I knew there was a darkness attempting to steal the light from our family. And we weren’t having any of it. “So Jesus, redeem our oldest. Bring her back to us. Heal her hurts, sadness, anxiety, and fear that her body is experiencing. Remove this dark cloud from our family & restore to us the joy of your salvation. I know you will do it. I’m asking you to do it.”
Just as the clouds and rain hover over the Pacific Northwest during the winter months, so did this cloud of darkness follow our family. And in those months, just as the sun makes brief, intermittent appearances only to quickly retreat into the dark clouds, so did we experience joy and laughter. We were not void of joy, hope, laughter, and fun as a family….but they sure were brief, intermittent appearances that quickly retreated when the clouds rolled back in.
As one tends to do in the winter, we found our own retreat within our home. Since both the figurative and literal clouds prevented outings from being any fun, we hunkered down. We slowed our pace. In both prayer and presence, we fought for restoration.
Every element of my flesh fights stillness, yet the power of the Spirit within me reminds me that this is where I meet the Father. Where the Father meets me. And if the Father meets me, his child, in stillness; then I too, must meet my children the same in stillness. I don’t know about you, but very rarely will you find me sitting on the couch. The do-er in me is a direct threat to the be-er in me. One way I try to combat this is by forcing myself to sit on the couch. Have you noticed when you take up a seat on the couch, it suddenly becomes a silent invitation, a calling, to your loved ones to draw like magnets to your presence? I’d like to suggest that the definition of couch · /kouCH/ is a place that elicits gathering, an invitation to commune. As a body takes up space on a cushion, like magnets, the flock gathers. A gentle reminder of the importance of stopping and sitting. Of being. Of presence. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Just here. Together. To talk, to laugh, to play, to dance, to sing, to tell jokes, to cry, to share in vulnerability. The couch, a place of presence.
In this season of “couching”, we’ve experienced what our Pastor has explained as slow healing. It wasn’t a miraculous flash of light where fingers were snapped and Jesus healed our family. It’s been a slow type of healing. One in which we’ve experienced His goodness, knowing His desire and delight in us, trusting in Him even on the days where it felt as if this season would be prolonged, participating in therapeutic work to massage the bond between parent/child, and giving ample space for hard, vulnerable conversations, confessions, and commitment to our love for one another. This year more than ever, I have felt the scriptures embodied as they proclaim that the Lord hears our cries, and He listens. So, thank you, Lord, for hearing our cries and for listening.
It’s now mid-May and it seems that we are (finally) entering Spring here in Portland. The dark, water filled clouds are now parting, making way for full-on sun. The seeds deeply rooted have been called forth to blossom out of the cold dirt. We’re not fully into summer, but we know it’s coming. And have I told you how beautiful summer in Portland is? I think we’re going to see blooms this year that we didn’t get to experience last year. And so the symbolism continues, shifting seasons and shifting dynamics within our house. I feel closest to the Spirit of God when I am enjoying His beauty and creations outdoors. How kind of Him to give me an even greater appreciation of that this year in particular.
So, I’ll leave you here with gratefulness and appreciation for your prayers over Harlo and our family for the last several months. Thank you for holding space for us in prayer and for your encouraging words to us and to our family in Oklahoma. We can’t wait to tell you about all of the beautiful people, experiences, and joy we have in this spacious place that we now call home in Portland. The invitation is still open for you to visit us here, we’d love to hug your neck, share a meal, and adventure together. Until next time!
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