On leaving the "perfect place to raise kids" for the city

When we moved to this village a year and a half ago, a friend who knows me well was shocked. "You?! But I thought you wanted to live in the city?" We had lived in the heart of our city for over 6 years and loved being able to get anywhere by bicycle within 15 minutes. We hadn't owned a car until our son was about to be born, and even then we rarely used it. I loved being able to walk to the Altstadt, the old medieval part of town where shops and cafés are located in a pedestrian area. 

As soon as the first rays of sun come out, so do the sidewalk cafés. People like to be where people are.

We could walk by the lake or Rhine in the evenings, have impromptu wine and cheese picnics in the summer with dozens of others lining the water at sunset, we studied beside the lake while sunbathing when we were students. Back then, I always admired the families with kids who would stroll or bike over for a quick dip in the water after work.

picnic circa 2009

We love the urban lifestyle, detest driving and don't mind living in small spaces. We love it in fact, as it helps us to limit our possessions, live more simply and spend less time cleaning and less money maintaining (and filling) all that space. 

The fastest (and cheapest) form of transportation in Konstanz: bikes

 So when we moved out of the city to a small town (3000 people) a 15 minute drive away, my friend was shocked. We didn't do it for the reasons most people do, not on purpose anyway. We didn't need to have a yard for the kids, we didn't insist on them growing up in quiet village the same way my husband did. (And I was raised on a farm.) We didn't need our kids to each have their own room (even though they now could, they share a room). The decision was purely financial: we were living above our means and realized we needed to move quickly to get control of our budget and plan wisely for the future. We had our second baby on the way and had a strict timeline for when it would be possible to move house. The housing market here is very competitive with some of the highest prices in Germany, often over a hundred people responding to an ad, and very few places to choose from. We were blessed that our landlords chose us to rent the house we are in now - in our price range, lots of space, a yard, and newly renovated. 

There is a quieter than quiet alley both in front and behind our house, calm residential streets, a few families around the corner. It is only a 5-10 minute walk to the Kindergarten, elementary school, the post office, pharmacy and the store. The city is still only a 15-20 minute drive away, depending on which part of town you want to go to. My husband bikes in to work every day, the 35 minute work out each way gives him space to think and negates any need for a gym membership. There are city buses servicing our town. Lush green forests surround us, there are plenty of trails for walking and biking. The lake with its free swimming in summer is only 3 km away.

Some might call it "the perfect place to raise kids."

It has become home and we do love it. I think everywhere I've lived has a place in my heart (except Marg Ad, a residence at U of T. Shudder.) But now we're leaving it behind to move to the heart of an urban metropolis. In another country. In a language and culture our kids don't yet know (though we're preparing them, and they love an adventure as long as we're together). We're jumping out of the pond and splashing around in the beautiful, messy contact zone of an international life.

My husband and I look forward to big city living, although we also love nature and have enjoyed this quieter than quiet town. You do get used to the (short) drive, but we do miss being able to do "everything" on foot or via public transport. Now my husband is at times gone for 15 hours a day, as it is too far to come home for a break between work appointments. I don't go out with friends very often, as the distance is an extra hurdle (added to two young kids and a PhD), so I have become more isolated and stay home more than I used to. 

I've been reading Life Between Buildings by urban planner Jan Gehl. He states the obvious and backs it up with studies of urban behaviour:

"People are attracted to other people. They gather with and move about with others and seek to place themselves near others. [...] In the home we can see that children prefer to be where there are adults or where there are other children, instead of, for example, where there are only toys." (23)

Any parent of young children knows what its like to be followed from room to room while trying to quickly put away laundry, tripping over her progeny who seem to be still attached by an invisible cord. My dream is to someday shower alone again, without various family members traipsing in and out of the bathroom, brushing teeth, shouting a song to get my attention from beside the tub "Weil ich dich lieb habe!", someone depositing the smelly contents of a dirty diaper in the toilet while I shampoo... (These events may or may not have All. happened. today.)

Gehl goes on to observe: 

"Both in areas with single-family houses and in apartment house surroundings, children tend to play more on the streets, in parking areas, and near the entrances of dwellings than in the play areas designed for that purpose but located in backyards of single-family houses or on the sunny side of multi-story buildings, where there are neither traffic nor people to look at." (Gehl 25)

Yup. That back yard doesn't get stepped in for the colder/wetter 5 months of the year. Especially because of the layout of our house and the location of the next families with kids, we tend to play much more out on the street around the corner with two neighbourhood families. Everyone congregates on the sidewalk/street and more open entryway of another home. Since our kids love being with us anyway (and we love being with them!) I find myself always with them in the yard, or my preference, taking them to a playground, lake, forest, or other outing. In the mornings this town is so quiet I do not see another moving object or person til we get to the Kindergarten. That makes for an eerie sense of isolation. 

We like to be where people are. Almost every weekend we take our kids to the city, go for coffee and Kindercappucino, play on the main square, ride escalators or look at books in a bookstore. The kids love to watch/chase people, dogs, pigeons. They adore street musicians. They learn from what they observe. Even the negative things they might see, we can talk about. My son asking why that man is sitting on the ground with a sign and hat in front of him brings up some good discussions and I can help shape his worldview and understanding of poverty and practice generosity. I know city living is not for everyone, nor does it need to be. But I believe the big city is not a bad place to raise kids, nor is a village necessarily "perfect."

In my next post, I'll share some things which encourage me that the city is a fantastic place to raise children.

Do the next thing.

This past week (month?) has been a bit chaotic in my mind and heart.

When there are a lot of variables in life that I can't control, a lot of change on the horizon and open questions, I try to bring order into the chaos by controlling what I can. Making lists. Making plans. Researching. As I play with my kids or cook a meal, I am often making a mental inventory of what items in our home to sell, which to ship, how and where and when to do the selling. I've spent evenings researching flights, neighbourhoods in our new city, places to stay, job possibilities. None of these things, however, have we been able to move forward with until we hear back from a few applications, and as we wait in trust on particular doors to open (or not).

Through reading Haggai, some talks with friends, and just that still small voice, the phrase Do the next thing was impressed on my spirit.

I remember when a teacher at Tauernhof gave me this advice 10 years ago, after pouring out my heart to him about my confusion concerning big life goals and vision, who to marry and where to go and what to do next. After encouraging me in my big dreams, he told me to focus on the next step, the next task, and to fulfill what I had already committed to doing. "Do the next thing."

I have been implementing The Pomodoro Technique into my academic work time, which brings focus and forces you to put aside both internal and external distractions. The author writes that internal distractions while you are working on a task (i.e. thoughts like "I have to look up that flight!" "I wonder how much apartments go for in that neighbourhood? What's on the market right now?" "I need to organize my bookshelf/do the laundry/sort the kids toys to sell while they are out of the house.") are signals that you are afraid of failing at the task at hand and thus prefer to put it off. Amen, brother. If we actually go off and do all those things immediately which pop into our mind, we are prioritizing the urgent over the important and reducing the quantity and quality of work you accomplish. Later, we might realize these things were neither urgent nor important, and we can do them in a structured way (or not do them at all, as the case may be).

I wonder what immigration officers think reading people's love stories?
Do they laugh, cry, smile? Or do they methodically throw your memories
around and stamp the file? I hope they enjoy reliving the past 10 years of our lives.

It hasn't been too hard for me to block out distractions during my work time (especially now that I am conscious of them and the underlying fear), as I know my time is limited as is. It's the other 19 hours of the day when constant thoughts, lists, and questions fill my mind.

Thus, do the next thing has been a breath of fresh air. There are so many things I can't control, things we just have to wait for, some things we won't figure out til we're in Montreal in August. I have to remind myself time and again to trust that He who called us is faithful to provide. So for now, I've come back to doing the next thing. Writing my dissertation during work time. In the evenings, climbing the immigration paperwork mountain I have been marching around and eyeing up but only kicking with my toe up til now. Rather than look up flights for this summer, I've got a trip in May to finish organizing.

The next thing. It's brought me some structure and perhaps it will for someone else out there as well. While you're waiting for answers, for direction, for your life partner, for your big break, just do what you can do. Go to work. Fulfill your commitments. Be faithful where you're at. Do the next thing.

Leaving the Boat Behind

We're moving to Montreal this summer.

After a decade in Europe, 9 of those years in this city in Germany, we're packing up our two kids, a few suitcases and our lives and moving back to Quebec. My heart has always been there, he knew that when he married me. And we finally sensed it was time. That there is a small fishing boat leaving the shore and we are to step into it. We're both on board with this, with our whole hearts.

Most of the time.

Then, there are those moments while cooking dinner when I think how much easier it would be to just stay here. To keep my husband's secure job (which he loves) and our friends and our stuff and our life. There are moments of doubt. Moments when I am afraid. When I don't want to take my son away from his little friends and church community and all he knows (but will, after all, quickly forget at his age). When I want the clothes and nice furniture and a vacation and career advancement. The idols in my life of comfort and security loom large and it can be hard to throw them away. We like safety. We all prefer the known over the unknown. There are times like these, I won't lie.

We'd talked about it back when we met, and that first year and a half were so hard for me in Germany. Then came a time when I knew that Germany was where we needed to be, and for a few years my thoughts didn't even go to Quebec much. I knew I needed to put down roots here and live fully where I was in that moment. That if God wanted me there, he would bring it about in his timing, in his way.

Deliberating over the last year or so about whether or not we would go on this journey was exciting. Adventure! Faith! Brave dreams! Step out in trust!
But now that the boat is leaving the shore this ride is starting to feel a little bit choppy. This dory is looking rickety, and I hear some creaking and is that a bit of water seeping through a crack I see?

When my daughter wakes me in the wee hours, I remain awake even after she has gone back to sleep. I wrestle it out with the Author of our story, for hours. In the morning I journal and find peace. I smile at my phone when I see the verse of the day on the screen:

"My soul yearns for you in the night; my spirit within me earnestly seeks you."

 I am reminded again that I really want his plans. That I really want the trust, the faith and the bold dreams. That his ways are always better, not always easier. I am thankful I get to be a part of his adventure. The wind is picking up and we're sensing that some of our plans and priorities might be shaken up, but after a few days' wrestling we're ready to be shaken. We're sensing that our rickety dory's going under.

That we might actually have to do what we said yes to and step out onto the water.

Welcome 2014.

We've all rung in the New Year by now and these two weeks 'off' (an academic is never off work...the same amount of work, or more, just sits there waiting for you) have afforded us time with relatives, hours of building Duplos, wrestling and reading, hot chocolate with marshmallows with the kids and the chance to pass pinkeye around the family. We're good about sharing. We took turns.

The excitement of staying up late on Christmas Day to Skype
with his cousin 9 hours behind us, show each other their new Playmobil
collections and make silly faces.

We thus enjoyed a quiet New Year's Eve with a break from socializing. Evenings as a couple have become all too rare so we're trying to pack a lot of them in this week, with time for reading, reflection on last year and aligning ourselves for the year to come. Someone may be so unused to relaxing in the evening that he was snoring softly on the couch by 10 p.m. So I had space to journal and choose my one word for 2014.

It snuck up on me.

Discipline.

Not glamorous. Doesn't even sound fun or grace-filled but oh, so needed.

A few nights ago I couldn't sleep, my mind was racing with all of the to-dos in preparation for our family's continental shift coming up only 7 (!) months from now. Not being able to sleep when given the opportunity has been rare since our 2nd baby was born -- I remember this so-much-to-do-might-as-well-get-up-and-do-it feeling from the last time we moved house, when I was 8 months pregnant with Annabelle. So I got up and started to get a few tasks done, wrote lists, and ended up setting up some new routines for myself for 2014. I didn't set out to do this but after I had done it, I realized that having more reliable rhythms for our family's day, when we get housework done, plan and shop for and cook meals, would probably bring a lot more peace into all of our lives and productivity into mine. I am not naturally a highly structured person. I read somewhere that introverts usually work in fits of inspiration and productivity and that is me to a T. I prefer to just take things as they come, sleep when it suits me...but with 2 young kids and a Ph.D. that is begging to be finished in 2014, I need a new strategy.

As I sat down to reflect on NYE the word discipline came to my mind quite quickly. As I read over my journal from the past year I saw how much this has been a desire of mine, a felt need in my life. We have big dreams, big goals, big vision and I think I'm at the place where I need more systems in place to achieve them, the discipline to stick to routines. Getting up early. Getting in the Word. Making the daily, not-glamorous decisions that will take us day by day towards the big goals.

In the past two years I had focused on a few other areas of my life, like budgeting and finances (thank you Dave Ramsey baby steps!), which have given us a lot of freedom. I've realize that I can't focus on forming too many new habits at once, so I am grateful for what has been achieved already (and there will be no Whole30s on my radar for awhile).

Welcome 2014. Discipline, let's do this (and I've given my husband permission to throw water on me if I refuse to get out of bed when the 6 a.m. alarm rings.)

Linked up to #oneword365

The Trail

Hiking those familiar trails
felt like coming home
to a place I had lived in thrice.

weeks, months, weeks

In a lifetime, short
but pivotal
times
of learning, growing, stretching, straining, singing
laughing, cherishing, changing, celebrating.

Moments on benches and paths
scribbled prayers
tear-stained journal
Surrender and new life.

The Alpine air filling lungs broad and clean
built strong on the spiritual heritage in this place.

I am reminded of lessons learned, mentors gone before, strangers-become-friends who shouldered packs and hiked for hours in front and behind me.
Incompatible tribe
different nations
different ages
different allegiances and preferences
different everything
but one God.
And the strong and fast took the heavy things from the weaker, slowed their pace, took the last place in line.
And we pressed on 
and we listened and we tore down borders and we let each other in and we learned to love 
in spite of it all.

They taught me that I too can love 
those whom I at first didn't like, 
with whom I had nothing in common. 

They taught me why Church matters, 
that I need others
to be fully who I am meant to be.
That those fruits of love, 
joy
peace
patience 
kindness 
goodness 
faithfulness
gentleness 
self-control 
only grow in the rich soil of community
Fertilized with annoyance and waiting and offense and hurt.

They taught me to go from this place 
and put down roots and let people in. 

And, eventually, I did 
and I am grateful for 
that motley tribe and what they teach me still, 
when I remember.

I am reminded that the trail 
is sometimes flat and open and comes easily. 
The ground springs beneath my boots, coniferous cushion.

But sometimes it is steep and arduous
and I have to put my head down
and need an encouraging word to get to the top.



The trail is sometimes muddy
and I have to slog my way through
and progress can only be made slowly.

Sometimes the trail is littered
with branches 
or it is closed 
and we have to find another way
and there are obstacles to overcome. 



Sometimes the fog descends and we can't see the peak 
or even the next bend
but 
there are trail markers, if you look for them.
And if I missed it someone on my team has spotted it 
and they show me which way to take
so we keep going
together.



I am reminded 
that I don't need to know what awaits today
or exactly where the trail leads
if I trust the Guide.

(And we never really know it)

I can see the next step, and that is enough

to follow.

Live fully

I was reminded the other day by a wise friend to live fully where I am now.  To be faithful where I am today, the people and places in front of me now. We are in a time of transition, changes are coming. It seems easier to shut down emotionally, just a bit. To distance myself, to hold back. To revert to my hermit-like tendencies. There is much to do. But I find when I focus only on my own family, my own plans, my own career that I am soon empty.

It's when I am giving to others, listening, giving time, a word of encouragement, pouring myself out that others might be refreshed, that I have the deepest joy.

When I am living for more than myself, I am truly alive.

Another friend told me today of a tragedy, a young mother gone suddenly, shockingly. Leaving behind three little children. The youngest of whom is fighting cancer, now without his mama.



We only have today. Let us be thankful for this place, this season, here. Let us engage with the people and relationships here and now, that we might not be filled with regret.

Let us love deeply, and live fully.

Let us give up ourselves, to get more of His life, true life.

On why children are an asset to my academic career

I have spent hours this week filling out a grant application (the academic's "hobby") for the rest of my Ph.D. program. The duration of the grant (bottom line: how much money one could receive) is determined based on how many months of full-time doctoral studies one has already done. If you ever studied part-time or had something delay your program of study, you have to prove it. I was allotted a maximum of half a page to explain my unconventional doctoral schedule encompassing two babies and a half-year working as an Assistant Professor which enable me to still qualify for this grant. I wrote it and explained, no big deal. 

But I felt strange calling my children a "special circumstance that has interrupted or delayed my Ph.D."

I have often said that my children have helped me work more effectively, and had other academic parents nod in agreement. I now have limited windows of work time, and so I put my head down and concentrate. I get a lot done. Rarely do I check social media or do anything non-work related during work time. Now that I work most days from my home office, I ignore the housework that could be done, or the bed that could be napped in (3 years of rarely sleeping through the night and counting!) My work time is invaluable to me, and I want to honour my boss, the German taxpayers funding my scholarship, and the One who created work and gave me the capacity to take pleasure in it.

I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. Ecclesiastes 3: 12-13

I have the luxury of spending about half of my day in the quiet of my office (introverts who are mothers of young children say amen). I love what I do, but I also love standing up, using the 8 minute walk to Kindergarten to clear my head and shake out the kinks in my mouse-clicking arm. I relish picking up my children: it takes a second for their gaze to rest on me and make the click of recognition in their busy little minds and bodies. A smile bursts onto my toddler's face as she wiggles and squeals and hurls her way toward me. My rambunctious three year old always greets me the same way: no smile, no words, he hurtles headlong towards me and tackles my legs. 

Before I had kids, I could sit up all evening researching for my M.A. if I wanted to. I could write all night if the words were flowing and sleep some other time. Back then my husband and I were both students, and we often had meals at strange times, or ate bread or cereal while we worked evenings/nights/weekends - whatever needed to be done, whatever suited us. Obviously, we don't work like this anymore. We love to spend as much awake-time with the kids as possible, so our children help us to be as effective and efficient with our work time as possible. We still tend to go to bed too late, but no matter what we'll be awake at 6 and the morning routines will start again. 

Children give rhythm and routine to our days. When I was home during two winters with my two newborns, with no appointments, classes or jobs forcing me to be somewhere at a certain time, I languished. I thrive on deadlines and a bit of structure, thus I love our new Kindergarten-dictated routines. The drop off and pick up times provide us with a nice framework to organize our day around. I know my time is limited, which is a motivator and a certain freedom in itself.

Do children get in the way of my career? Of course, I have fewer hours to work than a doctoral student with no children. Of course, I took time off with my newborns that someone who didn't have babies did not take off. I choose to rarely travel to conferences or workshops in other cities while my kids are so young (which is also a plus, as I am very discerning about what is really worth going to, and which conferences are the best fit for my research). However, the bottom line is that I probably I would have finished my Ph.D. sooner and published more articles if I didn't have children. 

Yet they are my blessing, my very great reward.

I do not regret the maternity leave I took with my babies for an instant. I do not sigh with frustration when I have to interrupt the flow of ideas that are finally getting somewhere because it is time to pick up my children. My afternoons with them, whether filled with joyful giggles and adorable glances, or tired tears and disobedience, are priceless. I am their mama and want to be with them. They inspire me. They refresh me. They give life perspective. They save me from my workaholic tendencies. 

As an academic and an introvert, I can tend towards reflecting, analyzing, reading, journalling: that is, living very much inside my own mind. In the current season in which I am not teaching, just writing, writing, writing my dissertation, my kids help me get outside my head and into the tangible world of play-dough and a pile of pillows masquerading as a bear cave. The tactile world of angel-baby-hair and velvety soft skin, of wet bed sheets and scrubbing jam off the floor on hands and knees. Of one-minute editions of "Noah and the people who make fun of him" and "Jonah and the whale who swallows him," reenacted for the hundredth time. The world of foggy-crisp air filling our lungs on our 8 a.m. walk. The world in which my son exclaims gleefully "Look!" while I put on his sister's shoes; I follow his finger and see the pink-tinged sunrise sky just now breaking, and we thank the One who painted it (and I thank God for the wonder in my little boy's eyes). The world of sidewalk chalk-covered hands and a big brother sharing his Kindercappuccino with his sister. The soothing routine of sorting clean laundry, the sense of accomplishment at seeing tiny socks matched and clean clothes provided, order restored.

With or without the grant, I'll keep proclaiming that children are an asset to academic careers. And they are my heritage, my blessing, my very great reward.