Dreams Come True

In my last post, I shared about the three different homes I've lived in. I also shared about working for some friends of mine in California for a couple months, helping them with their seed business.

I enjoyed the opportunity to work for friends for a few months, although I can't say that packing and shipping seeds is something I'd want to do all the time. It was nice as a seasonal job, and the job definitely had some perks. I learned more about plants simply by working with seeds. Numerous times, I was left in awe and wonder at God's marvelous creation - all the way down to tiny seeds! During my time in California, I had the opportunity to drive several hours north from where I was living and working to the town of Santa Barbara - where I grew up for 6 years of my life.

That was a dream come true for me. That was something I'd dreamed of doing for years. It costs to fly or drive out of state, and I didn't know how or when (or even if!) I would ever get to visit Santa Barbara again. Working in California and having my own vehicle with me provided the perfect opportunity for me to go to Santa Barbara. I was thrilled!

We have homeschooling friends who live there, and when they found out I was in California, they offered for me to stay with them. The Lord worked everything out so perfectly. I planned my trip to Santa Barbara in June on a specific day. My friends assured me that the two days I asked off work were just fine. I was delighted!

When I woke up in my friend's camper on the morning of my drive to Santa Barbara, I felt like a child who could hardly contain her excitement! Other than driving through the busy city of L.A. (not so fun!) my drive was a special one. 

As I drove on the 101 Freeway (which is along the coastline up to Santa Barbara), so many memories came back to me. When I pulled off the exit in Santa Barbara to go to our old home, I began to get teary eyed. Everything was so familiar. That used to be home. It was so special to be there as an adult woman driving my own vehicle. That was the first time for me to drive those roads myself. When we moved from there, I was 15 years old and wasn't driving yet. While waiting for a light to change, I turned the GPS off on my phone. I knew exactly where I was. I didn't need it anymore, and I drove directly to our old home.  

My minivan parked behind our old home.  

When I got there, I parked my vehicle in the church parking lot behind our old house and got out. I was standing where I'd given my life to the Lord at the age of 11. (you can read my testimony here.)  

I never wrote the date down, but I gave my life to the Lord in the spring/summer of 1994. I think it may have been a Thursday because I remember my mom making tacos for supper, and we usually had tacos for supper on Thursday evenings. And, for some reason, I remember June 9th being a special day to me. I looked on a calendar once, and sure enough, June 9, 1994 was on a Thursday. This year, June 9th, also fell on a Thursday.

I stood in that spot for a minute and cried happy tears. I felt so blessed to be there! Other than a few vehicles and a camper in the parking lot, everything looked pretty much the same to me. The trees, flowers, and plants were all still there. 

The spot behind our old home is not only special to me because it is where I gave my life to God, it is also where I spent a lot of time in prayer with God as a 12-15 year old girl. I remember praying and asking God for wisdom around the age of 14. 

This home is special to me because this home is where I learned to walk with God. 

I've never been married, but I imagine the place where a couple gets married, in a building or outside, is special to them. You likely wouldn't forget the place where you promised your life to another. 

In a similar way, that is how I feel about this place. I knew exactly what I was doing when I gave my life to God, and I meant every word I said to God, even at the age of 11. Although I'm not perfect, I've faithfully walked with God ever since that day.  

After I gave my life to the Lord, I remember kneeling beside my bed at night in that home asking God to reveal anything to me that I might have done that day that was not pleasing in His sight - an unkind word, a thought, or anything. I remember asking the the Lord to forgive me if I had sinned against Him that day, and I asked Him to cleanse me by His precious blood. By doing that, I developed a sensitive heart and conscience towards God. I learned to walk with Him and listen to His voice. 

My walk with God became the most cherished, most precious, and most guarded thing in the whole world to me! I didn't want anything to come between me and the Lord. I used to call God "Papa" and viewed Him as my heavenly Dad. 

I spent hours alone in prayer with God there during those years. I had a very strong and very close walk with God as a young lady before we moved to Colorado.

Where I stood when I gave my life to God at the age of 11. 
That was also a special place of prayer for me. 

  

The tall eucalyptus tree I stood under that day.
It's even taller now! 

The tiny white and purple daisies are still there. 

The avocado orchard at the bottom of this hill
that was near our home.

Before I left to get lunch that day, I noticed something on the eucalyptus tree behind our home. What was that?  It looked like a large "E" had been carved into the tree. 

 

Then I noticed another spot on the tree with the letters "E" and "R" carved into the tree! Did I do that?! I didn't remember doing that, but it's quite possible that I did! (for my name: ERIN) 

After texting these pictures to one of my sisters, she replied back by saying something like: "I'm sure that was you, Erin!"  The longer I thought about it, I think I might have a vague memory of doing that, but I'd completely forgotten. 

I drove away in awe that I had likely left my "mark" on that special place so long ago. Returning to that special place, so many years later, made me feel a little like Jacob in the Bible when he returned to Bethel - the place he had met with God years earlier.   

This was another tree near our home that I used to love.
 (in front of the avocado orchard near our home) 
I’ve since learned that this is called a live oak tree. 

I loved this tree, and I remember thinking about reading a book underneath it once, but I don't think I ever did. (not after seeing a rattlesnake near there once!) 

Since it was a Thursday, and remembering that my mom used to fix tacos at home on Thursdays, 

I picked up tacos that afternoon from a nearby Taco Bell and ate them at a park close to our old home, a park we frequently went to as a family. 

The sauce packet said "Let's go on an adventure!"
Indeed, I was on an adventure! 

My minivan parked beside this park. 

We used to love this little park so close to our home! 

I have so many memories at this park!
I used to sometimes ride my bike here from home.

The tables my family and I used to eat on are still there. 

I used to love to go to this corner of the park.
There is a small creek that I loved that runs behind that fence. That was another place I liked to pray.

That afternoon, I visited a few other places in Santa Barbara that held special memories for me. One of those places was the beach that was just a mile from our old home! 

Many memories here! 

Beach boardwalk leading to the ocean. 

The Pacific Ocean, Santa Barbara, California. 

Pink Yarrow flowers near the beach in Santa Barbara.
I learned to identify these flowers after working with seeds. 

White Yarrow flowers near the beach in Santa Barbara, California. 

I left the beach and drove to a grocery store where my mom used to do her regular grocery shopping - a store called Vons. I walked inside, and so many memories came back to me of shopping there with my mom as a girl. 

The Vons grocery store I used to shop in with my mom.

I spotted our favorite brand of sourdough bread that my mom would often purchase for us to have as toast for breakfast. (we love sourdough toast!) I almost purchased a loaf but didn't. (I couldn’t eat an entire loaf myself!) 

The sourdough bread we used to get
when we lived in California. 

From there, I went to my friend's home. They have since moved to a different home that I had not been to before. I was glad to have a trusty GPS on my phone. It got me to their home safely; I was so thankful! I had supper with them, and afterwards, I was given a tour of their ranch and farm. Their four children are all grown and married now, but I was blessed to spend time with the parents of this family. 

My friend’s beautiful, cozy home in the country
of Santa Barbara, California.

They gave me their little "guesthouse" to stay in (behind their house) called the Mariposa Cottage. Mariposa is the Spanish word for butterfly. (they're not Spanish, just a dear, homeschooling, Christian family)       

Outside the Mariposa Cottage

 

The guestroom I stayed in. So sweet and cozy!
Butterflies were seen everywhere. 

I woke up the next morning and enjoyed that sourdough bread I mentioned above (they gave me a slice from a loaf of theirs to toast!) and a fresh orange from one of their very own orange trees. I enjoyed eating breakfast inside the Mariposa Cottage, and when I opened the front door, a gorgeous array of flowers greeted me along with butterflies dancing in the sun among the flowers! It was a glorious morning!  

 

See the butterfly?

I had the entire day to myself to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It was kind of a strange feeling to drive through Santa Barbara alone, but I had so much fun, and with happy tears, I thanked the Lord!  

Since the guesthouse didn't have a regular coffeemaker, I went to an outdoor shopping mall I used to shop at with my mom, and purchased coffee there. Starbucks is a rare treat for me.

I enjoyed my coffee at an outdoor mall
near our old home in California. 

I was not allowed to drink coffee as a girl, so getting coffee at this mall was a treat. 

That morning, I drove past our old dentist and orthodontist office and walked through another outdoor shopping area that I used to shop at with my mom. So many memories. 

For lunch, I picked up something called "Rudy's" - a Mexican take out type place. We used to enjoy ordering their burritos and rice, and we would sometimes take it to another park near our home and eat it there - a place called Shoreline Park. I decided to do that for lunch, for old time sake. 

An old family favorite of ours! 

 

I have so many memories at this other park too!
My Dad flew kites with me and my siblings here.
This park sits just above the shoreline, hence its name. 

My sack lunch at Shoreline Park with a view of the ocean
- just like old times with my family.
(a little lonely without anyone from my family, but still, so fun!)  

 

My cheesy bean and rice burrito was delicious, although I wasn't able to eat the entire thing because they are so large! I enjoyed the rest of it for supper later that evening.

And for memory sake, I walked down the steps to the beach
like I used to do with my family when we lived there. 

I prayed that I might find something special on the beach to take home with me. I found this white stone.

The white stone I found reminded me of this verse in Revelation:

"To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. Revelation 2:17 

A reminder to be an overcomer by God's grace.  

From there, I drove through other areas of Santa Barbara that held many special memories for me, other grocery stores and produce places my mom shopped in. I quickly snapped a picture of the "Santa Barbara Eyeglass Factory" where I got my first pair of glasses at 15 years old. 

The Santa Barbara Eyeglass Factory. 

I also stopped by the two Baptist churches we attended when we lived there. 

Calvary Baptist Church in Santa Barbara.
So many memories here! 

Trinity Baptist Church in Santa Barbara.
I have so many memories at this church too! 

I had many piano lessons in this room at this church. 

I also stopped at my homeschooling friend's older home, the house they lived in when they lived close to our old home in Santa Barbara. I don't know why I'm posting this picture (below) since you really can't see much of the house because of that tree. 

But it was here that I made my Thanksgiving Pilgrims with our homeschool group inside that garage. (that you can see!) I also had my very first piano lesson here at the age of 11, and I took sewing lessons here at the age of 10 and 11. This house holds many memories for me! 

My friend’s old home. Many memories here! 

I retired to the little guesthouse cottage back at my friend's home that evening, feeling satisfied with my leftover burrito for supper and feeling exceedingly blessed with all that I had gotten to see and do that day!

I woke up the next morning and bid my friends farewell. Before leaving Santa Barbara, I stopped by our old home one more time and prayed once more in the place that had been my special meeting place with God. I prayed some very different prayers than I did at 15 years old. I read some Scripture there and then drove away feeling richly blessed that God had fulfilled a dream of mine to see Santa Barbara again! 

On my way back down to my friends in Fallbrook (where I was living and working), I stopped to see one of my aunts, my Dad's younger sister, who lives about 45 minutes south of Santa Barbara. 

Before doing that, I stopped at the cemetery where my Grandparents, my Dad's parents, are buried. 

The cemetery is large. I'd been there before, after my grandparents each died years ago. I knew about where they were buried in the cemetery, but I couldn't remember the exact location. I drove around and walked around in a certain area trying to find them. My internet connection was poor in the cemetery, so I couldn't connect to anything very well to find the exact location. Finally, I connected to something which helped to affirm that I was in the correct area.  

I walked past dozens and dozens of tombstones, praying that I would find my Grandparents stones. Walking through a cemetery will make you realize, very quickly, what matters most in life - people, not things. Obviously, we need things to live. But, walking through a cemetery makes you realize what's most important - family. 

Finally, after praying and walking through uneven ground in the cemetery for awhile, I found my grandparents tombstones. I thanked the Lord! 

I visited my Grandparents graves that day simply to honor their memory. I'm grateful I knew them before they passed away. I read Scripture out loud over their graves that morning, knowing that their bodies will rise someday.

My grandparents tombstones. 

From there, I drove to my aunts home which was just a short distance away. She came outside to greet me, and I was so happy to see her again! My aunt served me her classic, delicious, homemade tacos and bean dip with chips for lunch. (I sure ate a lot of Mexican food during those three days, but it was good!) It was wonderful to see my aunt and her family again after so many years. 

I spent most of the afternoon with my aunt and uncle and cousin. 

With my Aunt "Bunny", my Dad's younger sister, on Saturday, June 11, 2022.  

Before leaving my aunt's home, I asked my aunt about some old photo albums that I knew she had. My aunt "Bunny" (Bunny is a nickname) and I both love family history. You could call us the family historians. I've done quite a bit more research than she has, but my aunt has old family pictures I don't have. For years, I dreamed of possibly flying there to stay with my aunt for a few days just so that I could look through some of the old family photos I knew she had.     

“Do you know where those albums are?”

I asked her. 

“I would love to see them!” 

Sure enough! She found an album that had old pictures I had never seen before of my Grandparents when they were young. That album also had pictures of their four children, which included many pictures of my Dad as a boy. I saw pictures I'd never seen before! I thoroughly enjoyed seeing those photos and took many pictures with my phone! I could hardly wait to share the pictures with my Dad. 

The four Cross siblings in their pajamas in their home in Michigan. My Dad is the younger of the two boys in this picture.   

To my overwhelming delight, my cousin found a very old photo album, containing pictures I had heard about for years but had never seen. It was brown leather, and it belonged to my Great Grandpa, my Grandma's father. 

My Grandma's mother, named Josephine (my Great Grandma), died at the young age of 22 in Michigan due to Typhoid Fever, caused by contaminated drinking water. She had three young children when she died, my Grandma being her middle child. My Grandma wasn't even 2 years old yet when her mother died. My Grandma never really knew her mother. 

I remember hearing the story as a girl, and I felt so sad for my Grandma that she never knew her mom. I remember, when I was maybe 10 years old, wanting to find a picture of my Great Grandma so I could get it printed on a mug for my Grandma. It was my way of wanting to try to comfort my Grandma. I could only imagine the pain my Grandma must have felt not knowing her real mother. 

But I never saw any pictures of my Great Grandma. Because she was so young, we didn't have much information about her, which only made me even more curious about her. Several years ago, I found her death certificate online. Born in 1903, died in 1925. I wanted to cry when I read it. I am her Great Granddaughter. If she hadn't had her children, I would not be here. God knew that. And God allowed her to have her children at a very young age. She was 20 years old when she gave birth to my Grandma. 

What did she look like? What was her heritage? Did she have a relationship with God?  

I've always wondered. 

And as we opened this old brown leather photo album belonging to my Great Grandpa (her husband) we saw pictures in there of a young woman. Is that her? I could hardly believe I was looking at pictures I'd wanted to see for so long. 

The more I looked at the few photos of her, I was sure that was her. I see something of my Grandma in her. I see something of my sister Leah in her. 

She looked so sweet and so kind, and yes, young. She appeared to love nature - gardens and the outdoors. I'm certain it is her. That is why my Great Grandpa put those pictures in the album. 

I never dreamed I would one day share pictures of her on a public blog.   

My Great Grandma, Josephine, in a garden. 

My Great Grandma, Josephine, reading outside. 

I left my aunt's home that evening with hugs, prayers for safety, and yummy snacks my aunt gave me for the road. As I left my aunt's home to go back to my friend's home, my heart was so full. 

I had almost forgotten about my dream to see these photos at my aunt's home years ago. But God remembered. He knew my heart's desire. We just happened to look at them during the last hour or so that I was there. That was all the time I needed to see them. God fulfilled two dreams of mine in just a few days. 

That evening, as I drove on roads my Dad may have driven on as a young man, I couldn't believe the treasure of photos I had that were now in my phone.  

As I drove through L.A. and into the sunset, I was reminded in a strong way, once again, that our relationship with God and family, is what matters most in this life. 

I was reminded that we have a Father in heaven who delights to give good gifts to His children. Sometimes, we may have to wait a while before those gifts are given. I believe that, when we walk with God, God plants dreams and desires in our hearts for Him to fulfill in His time. 

I arrived back at the cute, little camper at my friend's home that evening, bubbling over with joy at all God had allowed me to do. For me, those few days were dreams come true. 

Home

There are few words in the English language as special as the word home. 

I grew up in three different homes in three different states - Michigan, California, and Colorado. Why three very different states? It was because of my Dad's job. 

My Dad was a pilot for United Airlines for over 30 years, and his job required him to live near a base to work from - a base for him to fly in and out of.  

Michigan is our home state. Michigan is home to both of my parents and their families, going back generations. Michigan is where I was born. 

After they were married, my parents lived in a nice, little apartment in the same town they met in and were married in. A few years later, my parents built their first home in that town in a small neighborhood. They moved into that little, brick home when I was just a year old. My Dad owned that home, and we lived in that house for eight years. I grew up in Michigan from the time I was born until I was 9 years old. (1982-1992) 

Our home in Ypsilanti, Michigan. 

All of my childhood memories are in that house. That house was the first home I lived in. The house wasn't very large, but it served us well. Inside, we had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and an unfinished basement for laundry, extra storage, and for my Dad's projects. Outside, we had a nice front and back lawn with soft green grass. In our backyard, we had a wooden fence, a large tree, and a nice garden plot next to the tree. We were not wealthy, but our needs were met. We were content and very happy there.

I fondly remember summer days as a young girl in Michigan, which included things like: picking strawberries with Grandma, catching fireflies on summer nights, watching thunderstorms inside the bedroom window by our porch, husking corn with Grandma in our garage to put up and freeze, swimming in our small, cheap, blue plastic pool, running through sprinklers in our backyard, eating popsicles we froze from juice, and enjoying my mom's homemade, soft serve, banana ice cream that she made from nothing more than frozen bananas! That ice cream was delicious and sometimes included frozen strawberries or blueberries which would turn our ice cream pink or purple depending on the berries mom used. Strawberry was my favorite! I remember our fun spoons with decorative ice cream cones (in different colors) on the ends of them that we used when eating our "ice cream".

 

In the fall, I remember the trees in our neighborhood turning beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow. I remember raking large, leaf piles from the tree in our backyard, and jumping in those leaves. I remember going with my Dad on a crisp, autumn morning to get fresh apple cider and donuts from the cider mill down the road.     

In the winter, I remember the steaming bowls of oatmeal my mom had waiting for us at the table in the morning, ready to eat with honey on top. We bundled up and happily played in the snow, making things like snowmen and snow angels in our front and back yard. I remember our occasional, Saturday night, "pancake supper" at Grandma's home. 

In the spring, I remember helping my mom plant flowers in our little flower beds in front of our home along the sidewalk. I remember riding my bike up and down those neighborhood sidewalks in front of our home.   

I have so many happy memories in that home! 

My sister Cheri and I shared a room and had matching canopy beds and bedspreads with small pink flowers on them. Our home was filled with singing, Bible memory verses, Bible stories, bedtime prayers, laughter, fun games, and childhood play. My mom taught me how to read and write in that home. 

My sisters Cheri and Leah, and my brother Ryan, were all born when we live in that home.  

I had a very happy childhood. I felt safe, secure, and loved.

Originally, my Dad was based out of Cleveland, Ohio. My Dad drove over two hours from our home in Michigan to work from Cleveland. Later, my Dad's work base became Chicago, Illinois. My Dad had to commute (fly) from an airport near our home in Michigan to Chicago to work. After many years, my Dad got tired of that additional (flying) commute after flying so much for work. My Dad wanted to be home with his family. 

At his request, my Dad got a job transfer to be based out of Los Angeles, California instead. When my Dad was 12 years old, his family moved from Michigan to California, and my Dad thought it would be nice to live closer to his family. 

My parents weren't going to raise their family in Los Angeles, so instead, they found a nice home to rent in Santa Barbara. (my Dad couldn't afford to buy a home in California) That home was about two hours north of Los Angeles. Once again, my Dad had a commute, but he was able to drive to work rather than fly to work, something he liked much better. 

I grew up in Santa Barbara, California from the ages of 9-15 years old. (1992-1998)

Our home in Santa Barbara, California.

Our home in Santa Barbara also holds many special memories. That was the second house I lived in. Many changes happened in my life in that house. I went from being a 9 year old girl (almost 10) when we moved in to a young lady of 15 (almost 16) when we moved from that house. 

I gave my life to the Lord, at the age of 11, under those tall eucalyptus trees behind our home.   

I fondly remember all of the beautiful tropical plants, flowers, and trees that surrounded our home in California - so different from Michigan. We lived just one mile from the ocean in Santa Barbara. 

Those were my school days. I remember learning a lot from my homeschool books and video classes. I remember the homeschool group we were a part of and the fun activities and projects we did with them. I took sewing lessons at the age 10, and I began learning to play the piano at the age of 11 after my Dad purchased our first piano.

I remember learning to help in the kitchen when we lived in this home. I fondly remember my mom teaching me how to make things like pancakes and lasagna. I remember the joy and satisfaction of surprising my mom by having everything "ready" on the table for our Thursday evening taco supper if my mom was out running errands before supper. I enjoyed helping in the kitchen by washing dishes and helping with meals when I could. 

I remember my mom teaching me and giving me some extra chores to do (usually on Saturday) in this home that included: cleaning a bathroom, vacuuming, and dusting.  

I remember selling lemonade with my siblings, along with hand stamped, colored bookmarks and postcards, on our sidewalk in front of that home. We set up our little table next to our mailbox, shouting at vehicles driving by: "Bookmarks and Postcards! 25 cents!" We enjoyed doing that. 

We enjoyed going for walks with mom in a nearby neighborhood that included a lovely, little park, and we enjoyed biking in the church parking lot behind our home. 

My sister Molly and brother Evan were born when we lived in this home.  

The memories in that home, like our home in Michigan, will stay with me for the rest of my life. 

After six years of living in Santa Barbara, my parents felt it was best to move from California. We prayed and asked the Lord where we should move. My Dad decided to put in a request to be based in Denver, Colorado, (a very senior base!) and much to his surprise, his request was granted! A very clear leading from the Lord. 

We moved to Loveland, Colorado when I was 15 years old (September 1998), and my Dad became a home owner once again. We live in that same home today, almost 24 years later. 

From 15 years old to 39 years old, a lot has happened while living in this home. I finished school in this home and graduated in 2001 with a high school equivalent, GED diploma. I learned to play the harp in this home. I began working my first job here at the age of 20. I learned to drive while living in this home. I purchased my first vehicle here. I purchased harps and made harp recordings while living here. I've traveled and gone to other countries on missions trips while living in this home. 

My youngest brother Stephen was born into our family while living in this home. 

This home holds many special, lifetime memories; it's still home to me. 

Our home in Loveland, Colorado. 

This spring, I was away from home, working for some friends of mine who live in California, hence the reason for my extended silence on this blog. 

My friends have a seed business, and they asked if I would consider working for them for 2-3 months during their busy season. I had some large bills to pay in regards to my vehicle. As a single woman, I have to pay those bills myself. My friends needed the help, and I needed the money, so I agreed to come. 

I drove my minivan from Colorado to California in early April. I was with my friends in their home for the first two weeks, and then, I moved into their camper on their property where I lived for exactly two months. Although technically not a house, that little camper became my own "home". I had that cute camper all to myself. 

It was an adorable, fully furnished camper, and it was so much fun for me to "set up house" inside there. I had my very own bathroom with a tiny sink, toilet, and shower. I had a small fridge and freezer all to myself. I could put my personal things anywhere I wanted in there, and I fixed whatever I wanted for supper in the evening. It was so much fun! 

But during those 2 months, I realized something I've always known. A home is so much more than where you live or the walls surrounding you. Home is the people you share your life with.  

I got very lonely at times.

During the day, I worked with people, and on the weekend, I met with some families for church.  But overall, the weekend was quiet and lonely. It was just me inside that little camper. I enjoy time alone, but not all the time. 

Even though I was tired after working all day, I loved making supper on the little stove inside my camper. But there was no one to share the meal with. It was lonely to eat alone. 

I felt so blessed and thankful to work for dear, Godly, Christian friends, and save up money in my bank account for bills and needs. 

But something I've always known was confirmed by experience - I would not want to live alone all the time. I know some people enjoy living alone. I do not. 

In late June, I drove back home to Colorado. I arrived home just after sunset on my second day of driving. I was greeted by family members and our Golden Retriever who ran to me and "cried" after seeing me again. Sitting on my dresser in my bedroom was a lovely bouquet of roses, freshly cut from our rose bushes. 

I woke up the next morning in my own bed and realized that there truly is "no place like home". 

Home is indeed a place, with all of it's many special things and memories. But far more, home is the people you share your life with.