2012 Christmas Letter

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I cannot believe it’s already time to start signing my checks with 2013 (yes, I still write checks)!  Where does the time go?  I recall my mother saying the same thing and thinking, “Why does she think time is moving so quickly?”  Well, now I’M that mother…you blink, and your children are as tall as you are, with interesting minds and lovely stories to tell. 

Even though time seems to move quickly, it seems so much has happened with the Trimble Family this year!  We kicked off 2012 in Woodbridge, VA.  The children were 10, 9 and 3 (at the time) and it was so nice to be with old friends in our old home in the Northern Virginia community again!  But that was not to last too long…

After a chaotic end to the school year, attending 5^th grade graduation for Mary, watching Will’s Little League baseball team take FIRST PLACE for the season, packing up our house (again), saying all of our farewells to friends in Virginia, and meeting up with old friends from Nairobi, we hit the road bound for Louisiana and Texas with a van load of kids and a puppy!  Sammy, the puppy, likes to travel, so we were lucky that he slept a lot on the trip.  We dropped him off in Louisiana and then went onto Austin to stay with Karen, Joe’s mom, for a week.  Then back to Louisiana for another week to celebrate the 4^th of July with my family and friends. And THEN, we drove back to Virginia to pick up our nine suitcases and get on a plane bound for Bucharest, Romania.

With nine suitcases (it bears mentioning again), three kids, a puppy traveler, and a stroller, we got to Dulles International with time to spare (3 hours to be exact).  We checked Joe and the children in on a United Flight, and then went to check Sammy and me in on an Air France flight (longer story).  It was at this point we learned that I could not fly on an Air France flight through Paris with the dog unless I had my tourist passport, which I didn’t.  I only had a diplomatic passport.  Needless to say, we spent the next three agonizing hours working closely with the State Department travel agent, and both airline ticketing agents to switch Joe and me.   We managed to accomplish this with nine minutes left to board!!!   We swapped our traveling bags on the tram to the planes and skidded into our appointed flights literally with seconds to go!  Thankfully, everyone made it across the pond without incident after that! 

And so began our three year tour in Eastern Europe.  We are now happily settled into a very nice house in a gated community in a suburb of Bucharest, called Baneasa.  The children, now 11, 10 and 4, attend (or will soon attend in Suzy’s case) the American International School of Bucharest.  It’s Mary’s first year in Middle School and she seems to be taking it by storm.  She has been on the Speech and Debate Team and debated in Vienna, Austria (I got to join her on that trip!), has been selected to join the Gifted and Talented program, and is making excellent grades.  She’s participating in an assortment of other extracurricular activities, but that all changes so frequently, I won’t try and outline them here.

Will is equally successful in his final year in Elementary School.  He’s been selected to be a “Green Hat,” which is a group of 5^th grade students who are responsible enough to assist the younger children at lunch and on the playground at recess, as well as help keep everyone off of the “green” areas at school.  He has also been elected as the Student Council rep for his 5^th grade class, and has also participated in several after school activities. 

Suzy and I are at home together until the fall of 2013, when she will begin Kindergarten at AISB.  She’s a bright and entertaining little thing, who keeps Joe and me young and on our toes!  She loves her brother and sister and watches all that they do very closely…often mimicking EVERYTHING.  Suzy is also a great little singer, learning the lyrics to all of the Taylor Swift songs that Mary is playing on the guitar!  Suzy is busy learning her letters and numbers, and loves to draw and make crafts. 

Joe is enjoying his work at the embassy as a Political/Military officer.  After a tumultuous summer in the Romanian government, he was able to participate in interesting meetings with several local and US officials and managed to even be seen on TV a few times!  Naturally, we don’t understand what was being said, since it was in Romanian, but we loved seeing him just the same!  He is enjoying bird watching on a new continent, too.  He’s found a few new birds to add to his list of sightings!

I keep myself busy by hosting morning coffees and play dates, and spending time with the children.  Unlike as in Kenya, I also have to clean my own house, which seems to be overwhelming at times.  Ha!  A group of our friends here on our compound hosted a neighborhood party for Halloween where they roasted a pig, had trick or treating, and a potluck dinner.  And at Thanksgiving, we hosted lots of neighbors and friends for a yummy traditional dinner in our home.   It seemed December was here before we knew it…bringing snow, family, and old friends to our front door! 

This December, we visited Sibiu, Romania with Karen and got to see a different part of the country.  Then an old friend, Anne Louise Hanson, whom we knew from our posting in Holland, joined us for the Christmas holiday.  We have visited all of the neighborhood Christmas markets, ridden on ponies and carousels, purchased local crafts and goodies, and baked so many sweets that we should own stock in the local butter company! 

It has been a great year, and we are blessed in so many ways…with health, safety, a lovely warm home, and wonderful, wonderful family and friends!  We miss so many of you during this holiday season, and always, as we are so removed from so many!  But we are equally thankful that God ‘prepares a place’ for us wherever we go, allowing us the privilege of making new friends, experiencing new cultures and seeing new parts of the world. 

We wish a safe and wonderful holiday season for each of you, and pray God will shower His many blessings on each of you in this New Year!

All our love,

Joe, Alison, Mary, Will and Suzy Trimble

Culture Shock or just an Eeyore day?

Ick, blick, ugh.  That pretty much sums up how I feel right now.  I know that a Southern Lady is supposed to fake it or say she’s “Just fine,” when in fact she might feel like crap.  My momma told me not to say, “Crap” because that was what came out of the bottom of a cow.  So how and where do we find the freedom to express ourselves?   Especially in an environment where you risk alienating your newly found friends when you don’t really have anything positive to say at the moment.  I like the saying on the movie, “Something to Talk About,” when she says, “Southern women are bred to keep their expectations low.”  Though I don’t really agree with that, there are days….Allow me to say right now that this isn’t going to be one of those “enlightening and hilariously funny” blogs.  This is just going to be me, rolling around the thoughts that are in my head and trying to make sense of them….to purge.  Maybe I won’t alienate too many friends this way.

First of all, I can’t figure out why I have no interest in engaging here in this new country.  I know it took me about a year to really engage in Kenya, and I just called that first year “culture shock” and “trying to raise a new baby.”  It’s all a blur.  Maybe this year will be, too. 

I have friends (so far).  People here are very nice.  The ladies are a hoot, and they let me talk a LOT, so it’s not like I don’t have an outlet.  That’s just it.  I don’t get it.  I simply have no energy and no interest in really leaving the house.  You might label that depression; and maybe that’s it, but WHY?

Maybe it’s because I’m not so great at being the mother of a preschooler.  I don’t really enjoy “play groups,” or small children.  I’m also not really one of those people that likes to be with a group all day long either.  I’m excited to have a lunch date now and then, but I’m not really a “group” pal, though I would define myself as extraverted.  So what am I?  Well, let’s state the obvious.  I’m a control freak.  I like to be the planner and hostess, not the attendee.  But, I have absolutely no interest in planning anything right now either.  I like what a friend said on her facebook page the other day.  “I’m not anti-social, I’m selectively social.  There’s a difference.” 

My sister said that when a foster child is moved for the 4^th time, statistics show that they often stop engaging.  They realize it’s too hard, and that it’s also painful.  This is my 4^th overseas post.  She made the parallel, so maybe I’m suffering from the same “disengagement” issues. 

I wonder if I’m still grieving.  I brought this up with Joe and he said, “Well, are you?”  I said, “Well, that’s just it.  I have no idea.  I’ve never grieved before now!”  In all the books, it states that one year is the appropriate amount of time to grieve the loss of a spouse.  But I haven’t uncovered anything that says how long you grieve the loss of a parent.  Maybe we never stop, we just adapt.  I think of Dad often…every day, lots of times during the day.  I think of how much he would laugh at a funny story, or enjoy hearing about the kid’s successes, or get mad with me about the lack of justice in our society.  He would also have encouraging words about grief.  He’d tell me to stop grieving for him, and live life in the here and now.  But that doesn’t make it stop.  That makes me wish he was here. Now.

Maybe this is what 40 feels like.  Maybe we feel tired and old and we don’t want to make any new friends.  Maybe we just want to enjoy the ones we have and call it a day.  Maybe we don’t want any new stories to tell, only to retell the ones we already know and are comfortable with and that we know make people laugh.  We should number them to make the telling easier.   It’s the time when our memories slip and we become more fallible, but we are still smart enough to recognize our errors and that’s disappointing and discouraging.  Maybe I should take up crossword puzzles.  My sister says you can’t really do them until you turn 40 anyway.  It’s only then that we really have enough life experience to come up with some of those words.  And maybe because this is when we stop going out and making new friends, so we need something to fill our time at home alone. 

I know I sound like Eeyore and that’s not really like me either.  I’m usually quite happy.  Even now, others might say I’m pretty happy.  It’s on the inside that I don’t feel all put together.  I feel neither happy nor sad.  I am not at my best in my biblical studies nor at my worst.  I’m neither here nor there.  It’s unsettling. 

So, what do I do?  Do I resolve to be better tomorrow? Do I plan a party even if I don’t want to?  I know I have to keep moving.  I know that I can’t stop making new friends or participating in play groups.  I’m not dead.  I’m just tired.  I think I’ll go to bed now.  Maybe tomorrow will bring something more interesting.  Maybe I’ll find a good crossword puzzle.  Maybe I’ll write down all of my stories and number them.  Maybe I’ll find a permanent home and quit moving around so much.  We all know that’s not a possibility, but for the next 3 years, this is my home, so I’d better find my happy place, and live.  Live free, and happy, and unencumbered.  Well.  I can’t do that.  I have 3 children and a husband; but I like all of them…and that’s a start. 

And for those of you that might wonder, or worry, don’t.  I know all about putting more time and energy into the lives of those less fortunate and to those around me  (i.e. my children) instead of focusing on myself.  I get it.  I just needed to talk.  Really.  I’m fine.

Oh, For Crying Out Loud!

No, really, I am crying out loud.  I'm so, so, so, what?  I'm not tired.  I'm not sleepy.  I'm overwhelmed.  This may sound foreign to most of the world, but for those who live in my circle, perhaps it will sound relevant.  It's moving time again.  My house will cease to be my refuge and become my enemy.  I wake in the mornings thinking about what box I need to tick in order to feel "accomplished."  Will it be "getting the dog on an International, 18 hour, middle of July, hot as rip, Delta flight?"  Will it be "buying putty to patch the nail holes in the walls?"  Will it include "digging out the suitcases to pack before the movers show up and ship my only pair of shorts for the summer?"

It's not just about one thing.  It's about all of the little things, and the sequences.  I can't pull out the suitcases until I've cleaned out our drawers and taken the cast-offs to good will (why, you ask? Because we don't need unnecessary weight in the suitcases or the shipment).  I can't book the dog's flight until we've booked our flights.  We can't book our flights until the system is updated with our moving orders.  We can't have our moving orders until all of our medical clearances are in.  And on and on it goes.  But, sequences aside, we are still LIVING in this house and functioning as if nothing is about to change.  The kids are still in school, the ball games go on, homework must be done...endlessly.  We haven't ceased doing everything else in order to pack up.  In fact, we pack up and leave the day after school is out, so there won't be any "time dedicated" to just cleaning and moving.  It's time to MULTI-TASK.  Or as my friends like to say, "Put on my big girl pants."

I guess you are wondering why I'm sitting on the computer and blogging when clearly I could be working toward this task?  Well, it's because I'm overwhelmed...and needed a cry.  I figured if I sat down and drummed up a little sympathy by unloading my stress into a blog, I'd feel better, and all of you out there in cyberspace would groan with me and say, "Dang, that stinks for her," and that would create this universal sense of empathy that I could feel in my own tiny little corner of the world, hence reducing the burden.  Ridiculous?  Of course.  But, I DO know that many of you are experiencing the same thing right now.  You get it.  And that knowledge alone makes me feel better.  Maybe this blog will make YOU feel better, too.  YOU are not alone.

Meanwhile, I have 15 minutes left before "carpool" to vacuum the floors and clean off the table so I can unload the car with the stuff I picked up at Lowe's which we'll use to patch the walls.  Gotta go.  I'm in a hurry, and I'm multitasking...oh, and as I walk by the washing machine, I'll pop another load of clothes into the wash, so that we are ready for baseball picture day with shiny clean uniforms.  For CRYING OUT LOUD, can't we just live in one country for more than a year?  Oh, wait, yes...once we get there!

Missing Daddy

It’s been almost a year since I lost my Dad.  It was a day much like this…warmer, beautiful blue sky with white wispy clouds overhead.  Sometimes, I can’t believe it’s been a year.  Other days, I think that maybe it never happened.  But it did.  My friends who have walked this walk before me say that the second year is the hardest…because people forget and you are alone in your grief.  Frankly, I’m not sure I could be more alone some days, but I won’t say she’s wrong until I’ve lived the 2^nd year.  Another friend told me just weeks after I lost Dad that grief was like the waves of an ocean…sometimes washing gently over your feet, and other days, so strong it knocked you down.  I know that’s true now.  Especially as I stand pumping my gas and find myself suddenly crying because it’s at this moment that I remember that Dad was the one who taught me how to calculate my gas mileage by hand…before the cars began doing it for us.    A silly thing, but powerfully nostalgic.

I find it interesting that I’ve spent the last 15 years living in a different town, state, or even continent than my parents, but Dad’s presence and influence in my life was and remains palpable.  Because of his loss of hearing in the last years, we rarely talked on the phone, but I knew he was sitting behind Mom, listening, waiting for the update.  It was after he was updated that he often sent me letters of encouragement or an e-mail to comment or celebrate some small victory with me, or my children.   I loved the evolution of Skype because we could at least see one another, even if we didn’t talk much.   When we were together, Dad was full of information…about politics, the politicians themselves, taxes, religion, the church, always something controversial.  I’d like to think he saved those topics for us, his family, but he didn’t.  He was a talker and had strong opinions about everything, and shared them with everyone.   Sometimes it drove me crazy, but often it drew me.  Even now, I can hear him talking as I watch a news broadcast, or a political debate.  This same thing often pains me because I long for more of his commentary.  Other times I’m relieved that Dad isn’t here to witness some of the travesties of 2011.  Mostly, I’m still surprised that he is the first one I think of when I have a strong opinion or want someone to talk something over with.

I still miss Dad’s sense of humor.  Even as he lay in the hospital bed, in the middle of our living room, Dad teased.  He accused me of stealing Reeses cups from a dying man.  Apparently, Mom had told him that this “gift” of miniature reeses from a friend was put in MY suitcase to take back to Africa.  This was a lie, but I had, in fact, eaten most of them.  What good is chocolate if not to comfort the grieving?  And he didn’t like them anyway. 

Dad did like grits and banana pudding.  He ate more grits than any one person should eat in his last weeks.  It was the only food that he really still liked when his appetite began to go.  Every friend of my parents brought over a banana pudding in those last weeks, too.  I LOVE banana pudding.  So did Dad.  One evening, he asked for a bowl of pudding.  My sister scooped it up and my mother walked by and said, “Alison, eat the cookies out of that bowl.  Dad doesn’t like them.”  I’m still not sure if Mom thought Dad didn’t like the cookies, or if she was afraid he couldn’t digest them, or if it was her own little joke on Dad, but, as directed, I gobbled up all of those cookies as fast as I could.  As my sister began to feed Dad the pudding, he said, after a few bites, “Where are the cookies?  Give me a big bite of cookies!”  My sister said, with a deadpan expression, “Alison ate them.”  Dad chuckled and asked why in the world would I eat his cookies?  Had I no compassion?  With mouth agape, I tried to explain what had happened, but he just giggled.  I got him another bowl of banana pudding WITH cookies.  Today, I can’t make banana pudding without crying and I don’t eat it.  Maybe I will again one day.

I miss my Daddy.  And like the waves of the ocean, a beautiful, blue sky day washes over me and brings back a world of memories and sadness, and goodness, too.   Maybe one day, I’ll be able to enjoy the blue sky and eat a bowl of banana pudding and celebrate the joys of those last days with my sweet Dad.   Until then, I’ll cry through the grief, and be grateful for his sense of humor, and eat a Reeses cup.  Too bad it’s not THOSE that I can’t eat anymore!