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The 10th Christmas

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  Ten Thanksgivings. Nine Christmases. That is a lot of holidays to spend without family. It spans a young child becoming a teen or a teen becoming a young adult. Ten Thanksgivings without grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins equals a decade of memories not made. Nine Christmas’s apart is not a frivolous moment in time, but instead it represents a depth of understanding and experience. This is what our lives of living overseas has cost. 8 of those in Indonesia, and the latter in Lebanon. Those holidays have stretched us, as they have a way of highlighting choices made, unimaginable distance, and our unavailability. Even. To. Our. Children. It is rather ironic that on this tenth Christmas holiday we are flying to the USA. One would think that with a national pandemic threatening to undo our fragile world, and clear advice to not gather that this would be the one holiday that we would dutifully stay. But no. Crazy as it feels, the need to be present in our 15- and 17-year old’s liv

Blue Boy Hue

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With the cries of baby boy #1, 22 years ago, my world took on a blue boy hue.  From firetrucks and stick guns, to Lego’s and robotics, motorbikes, and surfboards our home leaked blue.  There was little femininity in the Boyd household, as boy #2, #3 and #4 wailed their way into our tribe in seven rapid years. In many respects it was easier to not upset the mix with a girl.  We knew boys.  We knew what to do with boys.  We had boys down.  We had the clothes, the shoes, the toys, and apparently the “boy only” mold. We would not have it any other way. I would strive to keep girly moments in my life. Whether it be a shopping trip (alone), a girl’s weekend away, flowers on the table, candles lit, or a tea party here and there. However, the reality is, with 5 guys in the house, I was clearly outnumbered and for most of the time it was easier to go with them than fight them. The table talk was often about cars, planes, electronic this and Elon Musk that. The truth is, boys love their Mo

One Year Setlled

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 Many people are asking how the recent explosion in Lebanon will impact us returning and our lives there and our work?  These are questions that we don't have answers to.  However, there is one thing we do know, that one year settled looks and feels so much different than two months settled. The spaghetti like roads, with mazes in between apartment buildings are now familiar pathways. The flowers planted and the ivy growing give root to the word, home. The church bells that ring just a block from our home remind us that we are in a new land, with the call to prayers from the mosque in the distant background. The friends we have become more special as we begin to form a foundation of shared memories and experiences together.  I am grateful that my heart is finally at peace with over a year of great transition. My graduate class work is pushing me to know what is going on in the Lebanese nursing world. I had the recent opportunity to meet with the head of the Order of Nurses in Leb

Happiness and Tears

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 The mask hid my crying face. Well mostly. The tears still tattle-tailed my feelings, but for once I was grateful for the mask to hide the rest of my face. Let me tell you the story behind those tears. It was supposed to be an ordinary errand. I was looking for some specific needle work items for a refugee project idea. I had a friend (Lucia) who knew the Beirut downtown area better than I.  So, she had agreed to accompany me to this sewing supply store tucked in-between tall mazes of buildings and hard to find parking spaces. When I awoke the morning of our planned errand day, Lucia had sent me a text message. There she asked if a foreign housemaid could go with us and I could drop her off at her country’s consulate. I agreed with the stipulation that I had to be home by a certain time because I was expecting guests. Picking up Lucia and her new housemaid friend, my heart was warmed to be introduced to Happiness (her real name). Happiness’s complicated story unraveled as we naviga

Nations Apart

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 Currently, I am cruising at 30,000 feet in the air somewhere between Colorado and Nashville. Much has happened since I last wrote. We were in the valley of indecision for months regarding if we should/could fly to the USA for an annual leave. More importantly, for our oldest son’s wedding. After much prayer and contemplation, we finally felt at peace to fly and purchased our tickets 1 ½ weeks prescheduled flight. We chose to spend our first week in America in Walla Walla, Washington so that we could intentionally connect with our sons and their girls. We know that the wedding, though special, will not be time for quality conversations and peering into their lives. So, with 105+ degree weather we managed to create some fantastic memories just hanging out, in rivers, under windmills, on cliffs, in homes and eating fun food. We met the pets. We saw and heard about things that were important to our oldest sons and we simply were present, something that we do not take lightly living natio