I have read over my most recent blogs and realize that I seem to have unintentionally given the impression that I am unsatisfied with how things have been going in Portland.  This is absolutely not the case.  Granted, there were a couple of days at the beginning where I feared the worst.  After all, traveling 3,000 miles across the country, far far away from everyone and everything you love and hold dear...well, that's kind of a big deal.  So of course there are fears.  Of course there are trembles and heart-clenching moments of doubt.  This is to be expected.  

I think it was day three (or was it two?) in Portland that I had a minor little breakdown.  It was time to get serious and find a job and for some reason, I was making this process incredibly difficult.  Documents that I desperately needed began disappearing (i.e. I kept losing them), and I found myself lost in a dizzying haze of uncertainty and worthlessness.  I did not feel like the strong, independent woman that I so desperately envisioned of myself.  Instead, I looked down at the red sandals on my feet and saw a child, a helpless little girl who suddenly realizes she's not in Kansas anymore.  

So I cried.  I wailed; snot erupted from my orifices like Old Faithful herself.  The more I cried, the heavier the flow;  the heavier the flow, the more I felt like crying.  Stuffing my nose with the cottony comfort of Kleenex tissue, I told Doug I was done crying.  It was time to go.  

"But you still have sad eyes,"  he replied, so earnestly wanting to melt away all of my fears and frustrations.  

"Yes, I know," I shrugged.  "That's ok."

And the truth is, it was ok.  The next morning I completed my first application and suddenly, things didn't seem so murky and uncertain.  I had a plan, a goal, and the empowerment that I needed to follow through.  What else could a girl--sorry, woman--ask for?

Doug and I have been in Portland for over a week now, and each day I feel a piece of this place penetrate my heart and leave a small, magical droplet of what feels like home.  It may take some time, but those droplets are the foundation of a great river of strength, beauty, and sweet sweet clarity, a river that is teeming, ready to burst through me and in me and all around me.  I can feel it building, waiting for the time to come when it's crystal clear water can wash clean the stagnant pools of my past and fill me up to the brim with courage and life and supreme love!  

  Portland may be big and new and more than a little bit scary, but it is also the beginning of something strong and powerful building within me.  Time and time again I have heard people caution me about the weather here in the Pacific Northwest.  They tell me I will love it now when it is sunny and warm, but once the rain comes, I will think differently.  The rains of Portland will wash away such a sunny disposition, they say with disdain.  Well let the rain come!  Bring on the clouds and the mist and the clammy gray skies.  I embrace their water vapors because they will simply build up that mighty river that is on its way; and oh, it is coming!  And it will be glorious!  It is glorious now.

For now, I am content with the soft dew of Portland's potential.  It calms me and it brings me peace.  Doug and I have both noted how relaxed we have felt these past few weeks, as if the world and all of its protective energy is holding us, giving us the precious softness we so need in a time of such harsh reality.  I thank it's comfort and support but I also know that it will not always be necessary.  There will come a time in the not so distant future when we will not need such vigilant protection.  But until then, I am thankful for the angels watching over us and furtively looking to the skies for the magical rains of tomorrow.