I can hear my husband, Scott, cooking dinner inside the house. I'm on our balcony, surrounded by our week-old potted flowers and vegetables. They've done well the past few days, surviving squirrel attacks and persistent rain. I do believe they're going to make it!

It's a quiet evening, except for the odd mosquito passing by, highway traffic and fireworks in the distance that keep surprising our neighbor's dog, making him bark after each loud pop.

It's Victoria Day weekend here in Canada, so fireworks will be heard every evening, I'm sure. I don't mind, but it would be nice if we could actually see them too. We may have to venture from home one of these evenings to get a better view.

Not too long ago the neighborhood's resident cardinal landed on our roof corner just a few feet from me. He's been singing a lot the last few days, but I'll bet I'm happier than he is that spring is finally here.

This post was inspired by a conversation in the movie Cars:

Sally: Forty years ago, that interstate down there didn't exist.
Lightning McQueen: Really?
Sally: Yeah. Back then, cars came across the country a whole different way.
Lightning McQueen: How do you mean?
Sally: Well, the road didn't cut through the land like that interstate. It moved with the land, it rose, it fell, it curved. Cars didn't drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time.

I've probably witnessed countless subdivisions pop up over the years, and I cringe each time I pass those signs advertising new developments along the suburb-countryside border. All benefits of economic growth aside, I've always seemed to love the country and I'm saddened to see long-time wilderness or agricultural land get eaten up by development.

My Grandma pointed out to me where one major street ended at the edge of her hometown (currently my 'home' town as well) many decades ago when she was a kid. That street has since stretched several more kilometres over old farmland - with homes, apartments, schools, churches, strip-malls, box stores, hospitals, dealerships, and parking lots in tow - before once again meeting country roads and scenery. I often wonder how quaint and cozy our town must have been before its population exploded, swallowing up little hamlets and villages lying in its path. A big part of me wishes it had remained quaint and cozy.

North American sprawl seems to uproot, re-route, flatten out, bulldoze, and pave over everything in its path, its concrete touch painting the landscape grey and lifeless. (Note: Token city parks and playgrounds don't count as 'nature'.)

Now true country-folk, on the other hand, know how to fit themselves and their style of 'development' into and around existing landscapes. The Austrian village of my childhood was just such a place. A stream wound its carefree way down the wooded mountain on its way to a river in the valley. Houses lined roads that accommodated this winding and weaving little stream, and I'll never forget our adventures as we played in the water, following alongside it on our bikes over hill and dale. Perhaps you can imagine just how anticlimactic city playgrounds were to me after moving from rural Austria into Canada's concrete jungles. At least I can be sure my husband and I won't raise our kids in the city if we can help it.

So forget the grid system, cookie-cutter subdivisions, and their glib promises of so-called development! When a municipality incorporates nature's beautifully random designs into its planning and architecture it becomes not only a child's fantasy playground, full of life and endless surprises, but also a more insightful and advanced form of organic "urban" development.

~*~

"Find out how much God has given you and from it take what you need; the remainder is needed by others." — Saint Augustine

There's no doubt each of us defines "need" differently, but Saint Augustine's sentiment can still inspire us to reconsider our 'needs' and 'wants' from day to day. An old conversation about money was recently revived at an online community at which I'm a member, which forced me to further evaluate my take on the matter. The member who originally started the topic wrote:

how & what did your parents teach you about the value of money?

My parents taught me to be responsible, not to put something on credit if we can't already afford it (that's assuming one isn't in a desperate situation with no other option), to treat ourselves once in a while without going overboard, to keep the cheque-book balanced and to pay bills on time, that extravagance is waste (i.e. *our* definition of extravagance, which is still very subjective), to tithe regularly, to be generous in helping others while saving for the future... My Grandpa actually taught me that last point by example too - he owned his own business for many years, and as a result he would often pay people above and beyond their fee for services (i.e. if they did a great job) and did on occasion offer someone a job specifically because he knew that person was in need. :)

However, through my parents' situation of long-term illness and subsequent unemployment over the last three years I've learned a whole *new* batch of lessons about money, possessions, and materialism. It's a new time of growth for me, because it's really the first time I've taken a good, long look at my beliefs on this. My family has recently learned to live without many things that we used to take for granted (e.g. cable tv, vacations and travelling, heat to keep us warm during Canadian winters, renting movies, expensive groceries like cheese and honey, new CDs, going to theatres, eating out at restaurants, and more). Sometimes we weren't able to pay our monthly bills, and during those dark days I had times where I felt as though I was drowning or almost as if I was being squeezed and was running out of oxygen. Very frightening at times. :(

Meanwhile, we heard how wealthier Christians were spending their money and I wondered: If they could just be happy with what they already have, pass up buying that next new whatever, and gift those savings to my parents instead... they have no idea how they could reduce my family's anxiety, restless nights, and tears.

I've been forced to face my own views on spending, and have slowly come to the decision to live with less - not to feel morally superior, but to prevent others from feeling as though they're drowning or running out of air in a situation they cannot escape on their own. Unfortunately these thoughts have taken a long time for me to learn, but I'm glad to have the chance to learn them at all!

Back to the original question, the same member asked us:

how do you view:
money - in general,
opportunities in which much money is earned,
ambition...what's healthy?

Considering everything I've learned over the years, especially through the hand my family has recently been dealt, my answer would have to be:

a) money is a gift and a tool we've been given, which is to be used wisely

b) opportunities to earn money - great! go for it! work hard, earn the big bucks (Schillings, Pounds, Euros, Yen, or whatever the case may be), take what you need, as St. Augustine wrote, and be generous with the rest

c) regarding ambition, if God gives us skills, knowledge, and opportunities to use them - then go for it! Dedicate them to work and to *other* pursuits as well (e.g. volunteering), and keep Love as the primary motivation behind it all.

Through several discussions with friends and family I've come to discover another way in which the TCK profile has surfaced yet again in the way I deal with life, or more to the point in the way I deal with change. Change is one of the few constants in a TCK's life, and my experience was no different. My geographical location has changed about 12 times in 28 years. Our proximity to my extended family has changed from being across an ocean from them to being just down the street. I have attended 13 schools, and changed church 'membership' 11 times (not to mention the countless churches I have visited through the years). I made many friends and lost most of them again along the way. Losing my Austrian friends at the age of 10 stripped me of a huge support system, making me feel extremely vulnerable and alone in my new Canadian neighborhood.

Losing one group of friends after another in each successive move was heart-wrenching (except for the rare case in which my 'friends' turned out not to be real friends after all and kind of dropped me when they found someone 'cooler' to hang out with...). So how on earth does a vulnerable child with struggling self-confidence deal with repeated losses such as these?

You learn to let go, and let go ASAP.

I was just telling my cousin last night that every time I had to say good-bye to my friends, my house, my school, church, and neighborhood I felt like they immediately became shadows of my past: Old and passing worlds that were preserved like time capsules in my mind. That's still all they are to me now... slowly fading shadows of both happy and difficult memories. And the only world I've ever really wanted to return to was Austria... that place somehow managed to stamp its permanence onto my heart forever.

What about people? If past worlds become shadows do passing friendships become as ghosts? Well... pretty much. That is, unless some small seed of loyalty compels them to do the work required to maintain a friendship despite geographical distance. Even in the age of the internet most people do not walk down that road with me.

As I mentioned in a previous post, friendships mean the world to me. Having lost so many I know just how valuable they are and so I develop a deep, unwavering loyalty to them. And when the time comes (as it so often does) that we must say good-bye I've learned to grieve as deeply and quickly as possible, release the friendship to join the other shadows of my past, and move on. Given the number of good-byes in a typical TCK's life it's only natural that one would want to move on quickly and efficiently.

What benefits has this survival technique given to many TCKs? We can adapt to change in a flash. Personally, I know how to appreciate the people who are in my life at the moment, and I know how to move on when they're gone. I make the most of my friendships when they're around, and I also know how to thrive when I'm alone. I'm glad when people are in my life, but I'm also not surprised when they disappear. That said, I also never forget the faces of those who showed kindness and loyalty to me while they were in my life, and they remain in my heart forever.

On a whole, these TCK good-byes affect my views of the past, present, and future. I've found myself chasing my past... my childhood in Austria, wanting to return to that place that was so fun, safe, and care-free. I find myself living in the moment, appreciating the people, the places, and all the little things that may never cross my path again. And when I think of the future I see the whole world open to me, I see countless faces yet to meet and countless places yet to live. And with simultaneous grief and excitement I know there will yet be countless good-byes.