Joy found. Joy kept.

Dear George & Donna, 

I think {and HOPE} you know how much it means to us that you have made one of your {home away from home} places at the beach, but just in case you don't, please keep reading.

You see, many of us come and stay for a few days - or even weeks - to get {away} from the reality that bogs us down.  The 'reality' that really is a blessing, but isn't always seen as that until we're somewhere else.  We come, praying for the waves to make all things fresh and new & and maybe even a bit smoother too.

We come with baggage, layers, and extra weight ... and always leave feeling lighter for having traveled there. 

Thank you for allowing our feet to touch the sand, for our senses to come alive with the touch of a creature found on a rock.

We walked along the sand with you this year, and let the fog roll bits of {joy} in with it.

Joy found in turning 70.

Joy found in Ian's old jeans and drift wood.

Joy found in cutting {and eating} cantaloupe.

Joy in telling stories & sharing life.

Joy in handing off a camera & choosing to {be} - red beer in hand.

Joy in clam spaghetti.

Joy in technology {the sift key makes it capital right?!?} at fingertips, forks in hand, and banners hung.

Joy found in the reflection.

So, thank you!

Thank you for building a house at Pacific City.

Thank you for stocking the shelves with towels, and soap, and for having a washing machine.

Thank you for having a comfy bed to lay in, for bunk beds, for beach chairs & sand toys, for a coffee pot, and coffee grounds in the freezer.

Thank you for cupboards to hold Ian's peanut butter, and for a porch to read on.

Thank you doesn't really cut it.

But, then again, maybe it does.

Joy was found at Pacific City in July of 2012 for many, but lucky us, it seemed to cover us like a blanket.

And we may have even brought the blanket home.


Here's to joy found .. and kept ~

Ian, Lindsay, Mason & Mack

boots. on vacation.

Dear Ariat boots,

You are worth your weight in gold.  And then some.

You are pulled on and worn well by a growing boy that lives in Eastern Oregon almost every day.

Last week you traveled to the Oregon Coast and found yourself being pulled on once again, but instead of touching down on gravel & dirt, you were surrounded by sand.

Millions of tiny particles of sand piled one on top of another - reaching toward the sky.

Sometimes a change of scenery ... and pace ... is good for the soul.  I think it was good for your soles as well as ours.

You carried all 70+ pounds of my boy up the dune, sliding back an inch or two every time he took a step.  I followed close behind - shoe-less, and watched you climb with him, wondering if you knew that you were on vacation. There is something about the feel of sand against your skin that makes me think you did.

My boy won't go many places without you, and as I watched you inch your way to the top, I couldn't help but smile.

Smiling because you were seeing things that some have never seen beyond a photograph.

Smiling because you were experiencing the salty air for the very first time.

You were carried all the way to the top.  And for just a minute or two, size 4 1/2 Ariat boots, you probably held your breath as you took in the view.  This boy of mine who wears you proudly definitely wanted to show you the world.

You sat with him, breathing softly, while watching and looking with curiosity, knowing you'd made it ... 

knowing  it was worth every step and small slide backward to get there. 

And then ... suddenly ... you were sailing back down the millions of particles of sand - cheering, jumping & laughing all the way.

Thanks for spending at least one day of vacation with us ... and for climbing that hill.

You'll never regret it.

Never.


~ Lindsay

how much longer.

Dear Mack,

You must have asked us {one thousand} times 'how much longer until we're there?'. And although it didn't seem like a gift at the time, I realized after going through the hundreds of images of our days away, that it was.

I ask myself that question a lot.  I ask God that question a lot in all sorts of different ways.

When will our goal become reality?

How much more must I pray for that {one} thing?

Will we ever be caught up?

Will I ever be enough?

How much longer until the storm has passed?

When will we have {enough}?

How much longer until we're there?

I looked through the pictures and images of our time at the beach & saw the answer in a crazy, sideways, tilted sort of way.

I saw it in the stairs, on the dune, in the castles built, in the shadows, and in the light.

Life isn't meant to be seen straight on.  It's meant to be splashed in, ran through, dug into, sifted, shaken, blown, and climbed. It's meant to be looked at from above or below ... and even 'next to.' 

And living that sort of life - with abandon and joy - requires a lot of faith, a lot of patience, and a lot of determination that we WILL eventually get there.  In fact, sometimes we're so busy asking 'when' - we don't even realize we've already arrived.

We put our hope in that the next dune climbed,  the next rock explored, and even the next wave that hits.  A hope that with the next corner turned, there will be piles of the goodness we knew all along was, and is, within our reach.

You knew where we were headed, you knew of the fun that was to come, and you were anticipating the feel of the sand, and the sound of the waves just like we all were, but your {1000 questions} were my reality check.

I answered your question one thousand times, just like God has answered me.

Sometimes the question was answered quickly.

Sometimes the question was ignored for a while.

Sometimes the question was even glared at with a response something like this:  I have answered you 678 times already, and my answer is still the same.

The answer that is wanted, but not always heard.

We'll be there before you know it - really we will.

And when we get there ... when you see the water, and feel the sand, and hear the ocean's roar ...it will be at just the right time.

And you won't doubt for a minute that you've finally arrived.

Thank you Mack - for trusting me & believing {despite the 1000 questions} ... and reminding me that even when I don't feel like anyone is listening to my 'how much longer until we're there?' ... 

He is.

And those are the ears & the answers that matter most.

In love with your 5 year old grin and thankful for your questions,

Mom

right now.

Dear me,

It's 10:20 pm on a Monday at the end of July, and you're sandwiched in a bed between 2 tan, sun-drenched, snoring little boys.

2 little boys that have loved every ounce of the beach this year. Every, single, ounce.

You're happy, sun-drenched yourself, and thankful for little snores that seem to whisper to your soul... JOY found.

Thank you for stopping, slowing down, and for smiling (inside & out). It's a good look on you!

~ Lindsay

P.S. drive safely tomorrow - with anticipation of the JOY found on a gravel road that leads to home.

blueberries.

Dear Darrin & Angela,

What would life be like without you or your blueberry field?  I hope we never have to know.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts {and stomachs} for an evening of picking berries.

It was quiet, and the four of us definitely needed some {quiet} that evening.

Only a few birds were chirping in the distance, and we could here the wind rustling through the plants as if to say hello.

The light was perfect, and so were the berries.  Juicy, still growing, and super sweet.

I think Mack ate almost every one he picked. {shocking, I know}

With thanks & love of all things blueberry, 

the Murdocks

P.S.  You can come pick some beef from our freezer any time you'd like!

Matthew 5:14-16

 Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. 

God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. 

If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? 

I'm putting you on a light stand.

 Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! 

Keep open house; be generous with your lives. 

By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.

~ the Message

a swim day.

Dear Summer, 

I've loved you from the very beginning of time.  In fact, in all my life, I don't know what it's like to not have summers off.  Some call it spoiled.  I call it blessed.

Summer means lots of things here in Eastern Oregon.  One of my favorites is swimming, and it's especially fun when it's spent with friends

Tyler showing off his muscles!

Emmi

Riley & Sydney

Mark, Emmi, & Paxon

Carson

Emily

So, although you've brought the strangest weather, and the craziest storms, you've also brought a lot of fun too.

 a few of my teaching partners ~ Stef, Jess, Marianne, & Shanna

Thanks for reminding several of us to slow down, to smile, to go down a slide once in awhile, and to just {be}~

Lindsay ~ aka ~  Mrs. Murdock