More Than Ordinary Lives

Trees are starting to change color here in Washington. In August? Well, from some vantage points we can actually see Canada. And we’re farther north than parts of Ontario and Quebec. Kit is just hoping our tomatoes will ripen before frost.

The days here feel like mid-October in Arkansas with low fifties temperatures at night and low-humidity seventies during blue-sky days. “Enjoy it while you can,” locals warn us. “The winter will be long, wet, and dreary.” Fortunately, Kit and I love cold rainy days. I’m grateful to God for this late-life opportunity.

Drew

An eight-year-old approached his parents who were both quietly reading on a spring afternoon. “Can I plant some vegetables in the backyard?” I asked.

Mom and Dad looked at each other. Neither had any interest in gardening. Somehow young Drew had picked up a recessive gene, I suppose. Dad looked at Mom who shrugged a little. “Ahh . . . sure,” he answered.

An hour later curiosity pulled my parents away from their books. In the backyard, they found me with a shovel larger than myself digging up a plot bigger than they could have imagined. As good parents, they enthusiastically supported my initiative. More than sixty years later, I’m still gardening.

The fitted sheet, contributed by Kit, shields tender young broccoli plants from an intense Washington sun. Even though air temperatures rarely exceed 80 degrees near the Puget Sound, clear blue skies make the sun HOT. But, if established in the late summer, broccoli could bear in the chilly wet winter until April.

Mom and Dad sacrificed some yard grass and bought me all the seeds I wanted. But they enabled a life-long joy. Lord make me sensitive to opportunities when a little sacrifice and some seeds–literal or figurative–can give a precious gift.

Drew

They don’t care whether you live or die, I thought. Several weeks ago moving our stored furniture required Kit and me to cross the country as the pandemic worsened. The general disregard for masks and social distancing on display in public places shocked me. Many seemed to flaunt a comradery of defiance. Kit and I are both older and each have additional factors that increase the risk of Covid 19. But we could not avoid close proximity to non-mask wearers. I wanted to shout, “Masks prevent spread of the virus. Please stop risking my life!”

One of the core principles of Christianity is caring about the welfare of others. Those who follow Jesus Christ should apply his directive to “love your neighbor” by not unnecessarily putting them at risk. Wearing a mask in public is a small inconvenience to potentially save lives. I believe Jesus would wear a mask in these circumstances. Sadly, church-related activities–those disregarding the advice of medical experts–have been demonstrated to rapidly spread the contagion.

Some might counter, “We’re more interested in saving souls than temporal lives.” Yesterday, I watched a TV evangelist making light of the pandemic among an unmasked throng. He effectively broadcast a message to all who might notice, “We don’t really care whether you live or die.” I wanted to ask him, “How many do you think you’ll convince to trust Jesus like that?”

Drew and one of his massive trees-a Douglas fir

“What will we do now?” we had asked ourselves. FamilyLife announced moving from Little Rock nearly a year ago. Almost immediately we began a “last grand adventure.” Eleven difficult and sometimes hazardous months later we have a new home and an exciting bonus life.

Our house is set in deep Northwest woods near the beautiful fish-filled Puget Sound. You can Google Earth 3662 Harper Hill Road SE, Port Orchard, WA 98366. The house is ultra modern and the former owners had a taste for gadgets. Why use a simple light switch when a programmable controller will do? Electric devices blink at us for which we cannot yet discern a purpose. Occasionally a computerized voice speaks. Our challenges aren’t entirely over.

I’ve themed before that adventures–although rarely fun at the moment–can enrich our lives.  We’ve had quite an adventure getting here. Now the fun starts. Once again I urge you to try doing new and hard things regardless of your age.

We hope to welcome guests such as yourselves. Lots of nature-oriented outdoor activities are available even in the pandemic. And Seattle is only a short ferry ride away.

Drew

A lot of readers have loved our wholesome novels. We hope you’re among them. If so, you’ll be happy that we finally published the next Dave and Katie mystery and adventure, Challenge in the Golden State. Moving and the pandemic delayed us grievously. But our reviewers are claiming this is the best story we’ve written.

You can review the novel at description and purchase in paperback ($15.83) or ebook (only $2.99) at  Challenge in the Golden State .

If you’re new to our Challenge series, and will try the electronic version, we’ll personally refund your $2.99, if you don’t like it.

Drew Coons

Kit and I have been in transition for seven months now and homeless for eleven weeks. We’ve been in many Covid 19 threatening situations we couldn’t avoid. Both of us are at high-risk should we contract the virus. Drew with low virus resistance. Kit with only one kidney. Then finally we found a house. We would soon have a place of refuge and relative safety. Soon after Kit started experiencing fever, body aches, and congestion.

I don’t think despair is strong enough word to describe our emotions. Neither of us was particularily afraid of dying and joining God. But to have worked so hard and come so close to our goals . . .  Then California–God bless them–where we’re staying during the house closing period, provided a Covid 19 test in our car. Both of us tested “NEGATIVE.”

I can’t remember ever being granted such a reprieve. Regardless of what (maybe God) caused Kit’s symptoms, it did us a favor. Although practicing all the safety precautions–masks, distancing, frequent hand cleansing, and avoiding public places whenever possible–we were tiring of the restrictions. Perhaps even getting careless. Now our committment to both personal safety and the safety of others has been renewed.

If you’re tiring of the restrictions, let me urge you to stay viligent. Each of us has important reasons and people for whom to remain healthy. A vaccine is likely in early 2021. Let us sacrifice convenience and comfort for the good of all.

Drew

Previously, we wrote about the hyper-hot real estate market in Washington. We managed to react in a few hours–before most of the competition–to a new listing. We had to outbid only one other buyer. Even so, we paid an insane amount. Half the size as our house in Arkansas for twice the cost.

Immediately, we experienced strong emotions for spending so much money; shock, grief, fear, and guilt. I told our realtor that for that much money down South, you could buy a plantation with an antebellum home stocked with ghosts. And that money could do a lot of good, if carefully applied.

But we do have a plan to make the investment productive for the benefit of others–after we enjoy it a few years. We’ll will the house to a non-profit. Because of the skyrocketing prices in a desirable location, this house is very likely to be worth more later. A good cause will need the money a few years from now.

About the house: I had anticipated a cabin-like home on the margins of civilization. Trouble is, those sites don’t have reliable Internet and in some cases not even cell service. So the house we selected is in a residential area–to our surprise only thirteen miles to downtown Seattle. That is, thirteen miles over water. We’re on the opposite side of Puget Sound from the city.

Truly we are fish-out-of-water here. This has been a theme in each of our novels. We’ll write with more feeling now.  Washington was to be our “last grand adventure.” That  adventure we are experiencing.

Drew

Because of Covid 19 I haven’t been to a barber in four months. No problem! I had cut my own hair while a starving graduate student at Georgia Tech. Then I cut my hair while a missionary–again starving–in Nigeria. Now–although not starving–circumstances necessitate creativity in personal grooming.

So what do you think? Should I post instructions for self hair-cutting? (The secret is to snip a little every few days rather than doing a setback cut.) Your opinion is important. Kit is starting to look a little shaggy. I’m applying for the job.

All of us are having to improvise during these difficult months. My encouragement to enjoy the creativity. And try not to take trivial things as importantly as we used to.

Kit and I are living in a hotel while we try to find a place to live in Washington. I’m working on a new book, How to Cook Anything in a Microwave.

Stay safe friends,

Drew

Washington is more wonderful than we had anticipated. Towering alpine forests, profuse wild flowers, clear rivers, and blue skies–that is between rain showers–make the state irresistibe. Most days we catch glimpses of snow covered mountains. Mysterious dark waters lie between green hills.

Paradise has challenges, though. Kit and I are having trouble getting a home. It’s not a matter of money. We’ve lost seven wonderful houses that we could afford, but sold before we could react. One great place was on the market less than 24 hours. We’re finding longer lasting properties and lower prices in the vicinity of a majestic mountain they call Saint Helens. I can’t figure out why.

We are definitely fish-out-of-water in this real estate market. But, as you may know, putting characters in fish-out-of-water situations is an underlying theme in all our novels. Maybe I’ll be able to write with more feeling now.

For now, we’re living in an inexpensive hotel. For Covid 19 safety, Kit brought a jug of bleach from Arkansas to scrub every touchable surface before moving in. We don’t allow hotel staff inside the room. Internet safety was another concern. I setup Kit’s cell phone to act as a modem allowing us to computer access our finances without fear of unsecured wireless piracy.

This is the adventure we had sought. Please stay tuned.

Drew

In a few hours, Kit and I will start our migration to the Pacific Northwest roughly along the Oregon Trail followed by 1840s pioneers. In four-to-six months, they traveled 2,170 miles across deserts, raging rivers, and mountain ranges to begin a new life. The dangerous route averages ten graves of young and hardy people per mile.

Most pioneers used four-by-ten foot wooden wagons, called prairie schooners, pulled by teams of plodding oxen. I’ve imagined couples having strong disagreements about what to carry in their tiny wagon space.

Wife: “You aim to bring that stinky animal skin?”
Husband: “I killed that bar when I was only four-teen. An’ it’s lighter than them dishes of yourn.”
Wife: “Paul Revere hisself made my grandmother’s pewter plates. I ain’t levin’ ‘em.”

Likely both the bearskin and the plates had been discarded to lighten their load before our pioneers reached their destination. Kit and I will move west in a Toyota Corolla packed to live out of for months. We’ve had some spirited discussions ourselves about what to cram in. Probably we’ll find some items we can live without before we find a new home or more likely shed some emotional baggage.

On my 22nd birthday, I began a solo journey to California for my first engineering job. This time I’ll have my enthusiastic wife with me. Nevertheless I feel twenty-two again. That feeling makes all the trouble seem worth the effort.

Drew Coons