Loss

It is good to remember: 

This is common

This is not your fault

This is making life in a fall world

This is God's design for our bodies

This is painful--and you should not deny yourself the pain

It is good to grieve:

I hope you will not feel ashamed of your sadness

Or ashamed of your hopefulness which made this news such a surprise

The brevity of this life does not mean its loss is without consequence

And your hopefulness to try again does not dishonor the loss

Somehow it feels good to have the tender parts of your heart be tested

It was true before and it is true now: I have gifts all around me

30 Books

One of my goals for 2021 was to get back into reading. It's strange to me how reading used to be such a regular part of my life and an activity I defined my identity by back when. But mid-way through my twenties the punishing reading schedule of law school combined with the siren song of television stamped out any appetite I had for recreational reading. 

But in actuality, my mom had resolved to become "a reader" (although her delineation did puzzle me, since I have always considered my mom to be a reader) and in sharing her Audible password with me, she opened the door for many mini book discussions on my weekends home. Then, my sisters plus an honorary sister successfully launched a more formal book discussion group, which has successfully selected three titles in 2021. We are getting it done the way that works for us. 

For attribution purposes, many of these titles were recommended by the Modern Mrs. Darcy book club; this is not my own curation. 

It has been life-enriching to be consuming books again. Many selections have assisted me in considering certain topics anew. The Cold Millions, for example, read just before the George Floyd protests broke out, forced me to reexamine the role of direct action and peaceful protest. Codependent No More gifted me so much wisdom about why I struggle in certain ways in certain relationships. I listened to Americanah while I worked on a Nigerian asylum case and I listened to Sparks Like Stars while Kabbul fell to the Taliban.

I noticed when reviewing the ground I had covered this year was how each title evoked memories from when I had been reading that book. Even though the vast majority were consumed while driving, I remember those trips: stopping for Chick-fil-A in Virginia while listening to The Silver Chair; getting a speeding ticket in Roscoe while listening to The Other Black Girl; blushing through Beach Read on a flight back from Mexico; hunting for the Mercer Williams House in Savannah before starting Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Usually my memories feel very slippery to me, but sharing these books with other people (Peter, my mom, our book discussion group, our travel companions) has helped me hang onto not only the stories themselves, but also the slices of life that was happening while I encountered these stories. 

This is the full list of books I finished in 2021:

• Station Eleven by Emily Mandel
• Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann
• Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones
• The Jane Austen Society by Natalie Jenner
• I'll Be Seeing You by Elizabeth Berg
• The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo
• The Great Sex Rescue by Sheila Wrap Gregorie
• The Cold Millions by Jess Walter
• This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger
• The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis
• The Downstairs Girl by Stacey Lee
• The Making of Biblical Womanhood by Beth Allison Barr
• Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
• Writers & Lovers by Lily King
• People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry
• Dream Big by Bob Goff
• Americanah by  Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
• Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren
• Sparks Like Stars by Nadia Hashimi
• The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris
• The River by Peter Heller
• Out of the Pocket by Kirk Herbstreit
• The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
• The Good House by Ann Leary
• Beach Read by Emily Henry
• Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler
• It's Better to Be Feared by Seth Wickersham
• Evicted by Matthew Desmond
• Codependent No More by Melody Beattie
• The Last Watchman of Old Cairo by Michael David Lucas

I warned my husband, "I am becoming radicalized!" Between watching The Trial of the Chicago 7, reading The Cold Millions, watching the news, and being an immigration attorney, I have sensed my simmering rage begin to bubble at the reckless, repeated, callous, and unrestrained violation of rights by governments. 

In particularly, I have been considering an Instagram post by @literally.noam.chomsky that articulated the following observation about inducing political change:

Many people seem to think that the process of political change through peaceful protest looks something like this: (1) People peacefully protest, (2) ?????, (3) Political change happens. In reality, it looks something closer to this: (1) People protest in a way the government is unable to ignore, (2) Protestors are unjustly beaten, teargassed, and shot at in a public setting by the government, (3) The general population witnesses the violence, becomes outraged, and sides with the protestors, (4) The government gives in to the people's demands on the threat of mass revolt.

The post concludes that emphasis on peaceful protests is really requesting that people become martyrs for their causes. This is partly the goal of one of the protagonists of The Cold Millions, a young pregnant labor organizer is distressed to receive bail, because she had intended that her imprisonment would galvanize respectable people to care about Spokane's anti-speech law. This is what Tom Hayden meant when he spoke about blood running in the streets--let America see the brutality! I guess this is what I mean that I cam becoming radicalized, that I am increasingly comfortable with sacrificing my safety or blood for what is right. 

But I don't know if that really works, you know? I want to raise awareness. I want people to know about famine in Yemen, about gang rule in the northern Central American triangle, about political prisoners in Senegal, about the injustices of the immigration system, about how scary and inhumane jail is. There is plenty of outrage and awareness out there already, but what has it done? I think about Pete Coones and Derek Chauvin, and I wonder what I'm doing with my law degree. There is just so much that is broken, and I feel really powerless. 

There are no answers inside myself. In church the pastor reads Psalm 2:1, "Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?" To my surprise I saw I had highlighted this verse, it must have been at least 3 years ago, but still I'm asking this, why? The psalm goes on to say, "He who sits in heaven laughs, then he will speak to them in his wrath." That same morning we sang, "Shake the mountains, break the walls apart, open the Heavens, Almighty God, You are Overcomer, by Your power, the oceans open wide, Your fire falls down, Heaven and Earth collide, Your power and Your presence break strongholds, when You speak, mountains move." The pastor asks us, "Have we lost our reverent fear of the power of God?"

I felt sobered but comforted leaving church. Awed by the reminder that my God decimates kingdoms. Convicted by the reminder that my God has already sacrificed his body to make broken systems righteous. 

Bits and bobs accomplished this Saturday. 

I had ordered some hydraulic hinges for the bed frame on Amazon, and we had attempted to install them last week, but it was bumpy going. I was concerned that the ones I had chose just wouldn't work with our space and set up, but Peter is the ultimate problem-solver! He got those bad boys installed all by his selfie, and our bed opens (practically!) on its own now! Very sturdy. He shaved some more wood off the edges of the frame so they are not scraping against any of the walls. He also added trim along the edges of the frame so the mattress won't slide out. 

In the bathroom, Peter attached quarter round in the shower wall seams. He added faux tile board to the side of the bench seat that meets the shelf under the window. And he started building the shelf under the window! Shower needs to be caulked and the drain secured, but it is really looking like a real shower. 

We got the missing female elbow joint for finishing the plumbing for the shower distribution, and Peter finished installing that. He carved out some of the stud with the multitool so the elbow can sit securely in there. Reattached the outer wall and put wood putty over the screws, sanded, and it's ready for paint! 

We tried to install the bathroom light. It is a 120v fixture, but we attempted to convert according to the instructions and, no dice. The wires are live, and the fixture worked when we tested it at my parents' house, so perhaps the problem is the bulb? 

I busied myself with sanding: the last window frame is ready for its paint, and I patched some holes with Bondo now that it is warm enough for that. I took the knobs off of the window lifts so I can get the paint off those and get them shiny again. I opened up the Capt'n Tolley's to try sealing some rivets. Might try treating the windows with it, too. Weatherstripping and scouring the aluminum might be my next little project. Peter is the woodworking Michelangelo, so I need to find little prettiness projects. 

We are going to try to get it inspected next week, so next Saturday will be for getting it up to snuff, e.g., attaching the belly pan in the back, checking the license plate light, tightening the lug nuts. I am hoping the inspection station will be able to give me a checklist. Once it passes inspection we should be able to get it registered! We are looking to move it to my parents' house by March 15. 

Lawyers on the Beach

Some days, I think about having my own law firm. 

There is plenty that I don't love about this idea. Actually, most of it I don't love. You carry all of the responsibility, all of the liability, all of the work on your head. You aren't just doing legal work, you're also running a business. You have to be organized and disciplined. You have to take cases you don't want because you need the fees. There is no one else to help carry the load; you are completely alone. 

That scares me because I know I am not good enough on my own, all by myself, and in every role I've ever had, I have enjoyed working with teammates and I have leaned heavily on them for their strengths. It is invaluable to have someone to bounce ideas off of, to get a second opinion from, to help you draft something when you are pulled in several different directions. Teamwork makes the dream work! 

But the one advantage of hanging my shingle is significant enough that it keeps me coming back to this ill-advised cockamamy idea. Implicit in self-employment is freedom. You make your schedule. You choose your cases. You set the culture and the standards for your practice. You can do your work from the beach, if you want, and if that work is drafting and not a confidential client call. I could escape from the geographical difficulties that Peter and I are trying to puzzle through at the moment. I could replace the stress of this decision with a different kind of stress. Ah, freedom. 

Tomorrow is my one year workiversary with my small private practice firm. I didn't think I would make it this long, so it's exciting to reach that milestone. When I started I thought that private practice would be hard for me because we wouldn't be able to help every person who came to us for help--but actually what has been hard is justifying taking people's money and not returning to them high quality work. 

Before, I thought that self-employment was completely unattainable for me--I simply didn't have the skillset to make it work, and I had no interested in trying. But after seeing a little bit how managing one's own firm actually works, the hubris in me is like, um, hey, I could probably do this. And even if I can't do it well I could probably do it better, right? I'm embarrassed of my arrogance even as I write that, but it is the reason why I still toy with this scary idea. 

But still, I call it a scary idea because I have seen self-employment turn into a prison, too. How free are you, really? You answer to clients, to judges, to clerks, to the bar, to your colleagues, all the little demands on your time that fill a day until you don't have any time left to sit in peace. With people counting on you and you alone, once you get on the treadmill, it can be hard to jump off when it gets too be too much. 

What reason is a good reason for making such a big and expensive and scary decision? And how can you know how it will pan out before you try? And would I survive failing? 

I miss your tea

I think about my former clients all the time. What is really fun about being a public defender in a rural county is you get to know people, not just the frequent fliers but also the places they go, the people they associate with, and the other things happening in their lives besides their court cases. It makes me feel like a townie in the best sense. 

A few weeks before I left, I paid bond on a case where I felt the bond determination was especially unfair. This was a kid who had never been to jail before, and a case with a high likelihood of dismissal, and so even though the clerk scoffed at my naïveté, I didn't lose sleep over it. After he was released from holding, he came to my office and sat at ALR's desk and cried and cried, and I worried about what would become of him. 

After I left the public defender's office, I checked in on the case once or twice, along with at least a dozen more, but eventually I forgot their names. Whenever I learned of a not-guilty in that county through the listserve, I would text my replacement congratulations, cheering for the outcomes he had been able to secure for my clients which I had not. I never learned what became of my sad sap, but I hoped he was safe.  

Well, today I got his bond payment back in the mail! His case number was printed on the check, but the case was not in the court portal. I spent a few minutes searching for the case but eventually gave up, presuming from the fact that the bond was even returned signaled that this was was dismissed and sealed like I expected it would be. But in the time spent perusing the names of defendants who came after I left, I found myself so saddened by how many names I recognized. This kid may have dodged a bullet, but many of my other frequent fliers had not. 

On our evening walk last night we saw a fist fight break out. There was a gaggle of adolescent boys, maybe 14 years old, huddled out front of the McDonalds. One of them ran a few paces away, turned back and squared up, and no word of a lie, the rest of them pig-piled on him. They were pulling his hair, yanking on his clothes, punching his chest and head. I watched helplessly, torn between wanting to intervene and not wanting to be responsible for escalation. 

Because we had been out walking, we knew there were two cops just 300 feet down the road, and as a car laid on its horn at the kids, I willed these dum-dums to break it out before they caught the attention of the police. I realized that was probably a perverted reaction--I should have wanted some kind of intervention for the poor kid getting wailed on, but I was worried about his assailants, too. 

I don't know why I root for the wrongdoers. Why it's easier for me to have compassion on the struggling criminals than the meritorious innocents. In my rural county it was a revolving door of people hurting people, one week a domestic violence victim, the next week a pants thief. All people unable to get out of their own way because of myriad factors, but most likely because of poverty, and most fundamentally because of sin. 

We are all sinners. We keep passing through the revolving door, of hurting others and being hurt. And strangely, that's not necessarily bad news, because it means we have (for now) escaped the ultimate accounting for our sin. Our God is slow to anger and withholding judgement to just give us a fighting chance at hope, redemption, righteousness, that we might be healed despite the brokenness we sustain. 

My clients, they suffer. Life has broken them even more than the criminal justice system might. I cheer when they avoid judgement for their actions not because I condone their wrongdoing but because I feel in their frustration and desperation that the natural consequences of brokenness in this world are already taking them to task. We sinners are getting what we deserve and also not getting what we deserve every day. And it's perverted to think that our communal suffering is a form of grace in motion, but also I want us all to know grace. 

(P.S. That bond payments are returned to payors via mail months after a case has been resolved does a terrible disservice to those who have no disposable income to be bailing out. I used to think bail bondsman were a scam, but now I get that it's better to be parted from your money forever for less than to shell out beaucoup bucks but have that money enslaved to the bureaucracy.)

Kicking butt and making frames

Airstream work took a pause in November because of our vacation and then Thanksgiving, but December has been an exciting month! First we moved our Airstream indoors--its first road trip in over 20 years. It was a fun premonition of prepping to move on trips to come: setting up the stabilizers with the tow hitch, checking the brakes and taillights, strapping everything down. We have not yet been baptized in the couple trials of coordinating trailer parking, but we got a foreshadowing. 

Having the trailer inside is even more of a value-add than I had expected. I'm not anxious about mice, bugs, water getting in. No more worrying about the battery freezing. No more dirt, sand, and mud getting all over our materials and tools. And when we have the space heater going, I am not freezing my buns off! Even though it's not in a convenient location, I am optimistic we will be able to make some strides thanks to the shelter. 

So, for example, we have framed in the bathroom walls. We used metal studs for the curved part of the wall, cutting triangles out every 8" or so to make the curve and riveting it to the skins. We used regular wood studs for the rest. Making sure the walls were square was tricky because nothing inside the trailer is square, but we adjusted the hitch and used a level. 

We had been storing the old walls since demo and finally they came in handy! First cut on the curve was perfect, we only had to do one more cut on the bottom. It was nice to have something go smoothly for once, haha! The inner-most wall is a bit of a puzzle because of the air conditioner and the back fan--we carved a diagonal slice out of the stud for clearance, but the plywood sheath on the walls should cover the carve out. We might notch it out altogether depending on how it looks as we polish it up. 

Yesterday we divided and conquered: Peter teamed up with Amanda to do the dry plumbing for the sink and shower, while Prudence and I tackled the bed frame. The sink and shower vents are in, as is the shower drain! Peter has also made a rough plan for the pee diversion to feed into the same drain line as the shower. The sink drain line is in place, but is obviously awaiting the sink itself. 

Working on the bed frame was a huge self-efficacy boost for me because usually I am the watcher/tool passer, but Prudence wouldn't let me get away with that. We used the pocket hole jig that Peter got for Christmas on some 1x1s and made a frame to anchor to the floor (as opposed to the walls) that the plywood base can rest on, above the electrical components box. (We used four (4) boards 77" long, twelve (12) boards 15" long with pocket screw holes each end to make two ladders, and then six (6) boards 29.5" to connect the ladders. Easy but satisfying!)

We left space at the "head" of the bed to build a cabinet for access to the drain and vent pipes running there. The "foot" of the bed will be pretty much flush with the street-side trailer wall. We will make one more "ladder" to support the far end of the bed, but we have to work around the back hatch and the battery, so we had to wait on the project manager before tackling that one. 

The outlets and overhead lights inside aren't working because of a short somewhere. At first this was a demoralizing discovery because installing the ceiling was a giant pain, and the thought of having to un-do and re-do it made me want to throw a temper-tantrum, but then Peter recalled a spark during the installation of the front end, so we are thinking maybe that's where the short is. Next time I think we will attempt to find/fix the short, and also add some wood framing to the air conditioner hole. Maybe build the seat for the shower and put down waterproof lining for all the places the drains run. 

For Christmas, Peter finally caved and said he will get me a mini wood stove, but it remains to be seen where it will go. We can avoid putting more holes in the ceiling by using the hole from the original stove exhaust vent hole. But we had Will run the propane so that the range can go in that spot. We had talked about switching the range to the street-side for weight distribution, but rerouting the propane may prove too intimidating. Anyway, Peter's love-motivated pro-wood stove gesture was as touching a Christmas sentiment as a person could want. ^_^

We have a ceiling!

Progress has slowed down a bit, in part to the loss of light and impending cold. Will installed some more lights for us, a city water intake, a drain valve, and he repaired our porch and overhead door light. Last thing he's slated to do for us is to rehab the taillights, and then I think it might be the end of his assistance for now. 

We discovered last month that one of the elders at my childhood church renovated a 2007 Airstream a few years ago. He had a lot of good ideas for waterproofing and it was fun to talk shop with him, but we also learned he was renting barn space and it sounds like a great option for getting some carpentry done during the winter! 

Speaking of carpentry, we built, insulated, and installed a wooden box over the wheel well. I am always so impressed with Peter's spacial reasoning and creative problem-solving. I thought making a box would be easy, but I was immediately overwhelmed by the most basic questions that I don't even have the language to even ask. When Peter works, I don't see the method in his madness, so part of me is a little skeptical, maybe even doubting, that he is seeing and addressing the problems I don't know how to work out. 

But then, voila! He creates something sturdy, lightweight, functional, and I am oh so impressed! 

We had snow one day, and when we arrived at the farm and stepped inside the trailer, I immediately saw all the condensation in the ceiling--even though it was freezing inside there, it was apparently still warmer than outside--so much water! There is no good solution to this, as far as my research reveals, but I continue my lobbying for a mini wood-burning stove. 

We set about the arduous task of putting the ceiling back in. We used zip ties threaded through holes Peter drilled in the ribs to hold wires in their indents and it was so refreshing to be able to walk the length of the trailer without getting whacked in the face by a wire! We riveted the ceiling panel tracks into place (omg, they look so terrible, I did not get anywhere near all the paint off them) and closed off our access to the wall wiring for good. Hopefully we ran wires to everything we need! 

In the walls we had used a layer of Reflectix against the skin, but after reading that this had no real effect without an air gap (except maybe as a vapor barrier) I was keen for an excuse to leave it out of the ceiling. The wires made insulating very cumbersome, and the spray glue we had was trash, so we had to work quickly. We enlisted Aidan to hold one end of the ceiling panel, I held the other end, and Peter put a few clecos around the skylight to hold the middle while he helped us push one side in place. Aidan and I pressed the panel against the center of the ceiling, while Peter worked to pop the other side into the rail. It went way smoother than I expected! 

One issue with doing a side bath is that the bathroom wall is likely to encroach on the part of the ceiling that will be covered by the air-con shroud. We attempted to ameliorate this some by moving the mounting bracket as far over to the opposite side as we could. We also installed the frames for the Fantastic Vents. We didn't cut them to follow the contour of the ceiling, so there was a gap in the center where the ceiling skin pulled away from the frame. We fixed the look of this by stuffing extra insulation in there to force the ceiling skin down to meet the frame. 

Last thing was to extend the vent pipe from the drain valve and then bolt the electrical components platform into place. Peter dry-fitted all the venting several weeks ago, but it was covered by a blanket of leaves and has disassembled itself with the passage of time. But plumbing is next! Maybe at a new location . . .