Long View

The anticipation can be hard to bear. 

At least someone's already home on the bus, even if it's not us.

We are a ways out from moving into our skoolie home and striking out to parts unfamiliar. Like, probably two years out. And that's tough to bear some days.

We've got good friends here. Good family. We're becoming more and more a part of a community where we are now, and the thought of leaving that behind is bittersweet. So why can't I wait to go?

Because the future looks bright. Because we're moving forward on a dream we've had since we got engaged and had our eyes opened to the wide world of homesteading, one step at a time. Because there are so many things I want to start doing, and I want to do them now.

Exercise Your Patience, Please.

How many times do I say this to my daughters? Because it is just as hard for them to do as it is for me, apparently. Now, their wants are a little more attainable (...Sometimes. Sorry girls, Disney World is nowhere in our near future.), but the premise is the same. We sometimes just need to wait, and have patience, for the things we want to come to be.

I have so much to do to fill my time, even beyond the normal day-to-day chores, like keeping us fed and reasonably clean. I have a house full of things that need new homes, even if that home is the garbage dump. I have a small wealth of bottles and jars, just waiting to be turned into crafts that I can sell to raise money to finance this venture. I can go on Mechanical Turk to do a few jobs to raise a couple extra dollars to ease the burden on Nathaniel's shoulders. I can begin to practice gardening, or canning, or any other chore that we will ostensibly take on for ourselves in the not-too-distant future. I can work on my little soap business, even if that just means sitting at the computer and updating my website. I can blog about the work we've done on the bus, even if it's only for my own benefit, to remind me that Nate's made so much progress already.

But I have a nasty habit of looking at all that needs to be done, and simply throwing up my hands, saying, "Oh, I just can't wait until we're past all this and onto the next phase of our lives!"

Yes, Colleen, but not without some hard work to get there.

Even if that hard work is just another form of being patient. By doing those things that need to be done. By accepting the help offered from some of the most awesome ladies on the planet. By practicing self-sufficiency now, even a little bit at a time, because it will be hard to go from zero to sixty once we're out of here and living in the bus.

So while it may seem silly to write this, because I'm sitting still and not "doing anything," I have to remind myself that this blog is a part of the plan. To share where our heads are as we transition, and to hopefully inspire other people to make the changes they've desired for their families*. Maybe even to motivate myself, and to remember that I am just as important a cog in this family machine as my husband, even though there's not much I can do to help on the bus at the moment (For what it's worth, he's always gone out of his way to tell me how important I am to our family. The problem lies inside my own skull, not his). I can do the little things here at home that add up to one big effort to move us past this sometimes unsatisfying season in our lives.

Someday, this will all be a memory, and we'll be out in the world, making our own living by the sweat of our own brows, actively providing for ourselves. Our kids will be living the life we've always hoped to provide for them; a life on a small farm, out in nature, living in a home we built with our own hands. We will be in a new place, living a very different life from the life we're living now.

But for today, I need to be grateful. Grateful for my husband, who works so very hard to do the best he can for me and our girls. Grateful for our children, who delight me every day and inspire me to be a better person, to provide a good example of how to live intentionally and lovingly. Grateful for our extended families, who love our little family unit and desire the best for us, even if they will be sad to see us move away. Grateful for our community of friends, who have become such an integral part of our lives. And above all, grateful for a God who loves us and meets us where we are, who has provided for us so amazingly every single day, and who encourages us to write our own story even as he walks alongside of us.

Patience is a virtue. I need to remember this every day, even as I look forward with eager anticipation for the future.

* Whoops. This originally said "for our family." Sorry!

Why Didn't I Think of This Sooner?

Hello, and welcome back to the saga of the True Crew: Part Two. It's been awhile since I've posted anything new about the bus, but in trying to compile a new Skoolie School post, I learned that Nathaniel's done many more little jobs than I realized. Anyway, there's at least one - possibly two - new tutorials in the works this next month or two. I had hoped to have another one up by now, but they are more time-consuming to write than I plan for sometimes. Everyday life kinda precludes writing about our bus in detail more often than not.

But lots of work has been done! I say that just as much to myself, because when I sat down to begin finding photos for another tutorial, I was a little surprised just how many photos we have of this bus. When I go into the yard, I usually bring the camera to document whatever I haven't yet documented; Nate captures the work he's doing as he does it. And I've had the distinct pleasure of my good friend Aubri Porter taking pictures for me to use gratis. It was she who took that swell shot that is the basis of my new banner up there. When I use her work, you'll know it for several reasons.

1) It's way better than anything I post of my own

2) Her nifty watermark. 

3) The asterisk denoting credit where credit is due.

Check out more of Aubri's work on her website's photoblog.

But returning to all these photos I have, I've decided that to maintain more of a consistent presence on this blog, I'll post not-yet-seen images of what's been going on inside our dear bus. We are (well, Nate is) much farther along in deconstructing the interior than my one measly little tutorial would have you believe. I'll be posting shots of different things going on in and around the bus and our home as we continue to work towards our goal. These are in addition to forthcoming Skoolie School tutorials, which will take longer and are less reflective of where we are currently at in our total renovation.

And let me stress that: this is going to be a Total Renovation, with capital letters. I read a blog recently about a kid growing up in a bus in a hippie commune back in the day. Honestly, the whole childhood experience the writer described sounded rather bleak and inhospitable to me, but she seemed to remember it fondly. In any case, her writing was enjoyable as she described it from her 3, 4 and 5 year old perspective. But that bus was essentially in the state that I describe our bus being in at the end of my last tutorial (seats removed, but not much else) They didn't change much other than to build some beds and cabinets inside. No power, no decent insulation, no real rehabilitation of a bus into a house. It sounded cold and creaky and dark and miserable to me.

But Lord willing, our bus is going to be comfortable and snug, but breezy and bright. It will have comfortable seating and bedding, and a sound, airtight body. We want a good flow between rooms when it's opened up, and comfortable-while-small private rooms with natural light when they're closed off. I want bright colors and interesting textures, to create a space that is at once busy and calm. A great place to relax and unwind, a real, tiny Home.

I've been adding "Lord willing" to most of my descriptions of the hopeful future of our bus. It all comes down to a few verses I read in the book of James - I don't remember how I found them. Now if you don't buy into this Bible stuff, just hang with me for a second. There's a kernel of truth here I think many of us can agree on. Anyway, here's the passage:

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit"; whereas you do no know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that." But now you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil.

James 4:13-16

Basically what I got from this is that all our plans for this bus are just that: Plans. They haven't actually happened yet, and until they do, anything I say about them is speculation for the future. Our plans may change. I believe the Lord will sustain us no matter where our future takes us, but even though we are actively pursuing a homesteading lifestyle by taking this step, we can't predict where we end up. It's all in God's hands.

But I think what most of us would agree to, is that it's obnoxious when somebody brags about their plans as though they've already happened, when in reality they're miles away from accomplishing their goals. So I try not to give too much credence to our future plans, because I don't want to boast about something we haven't done yet. Not that I want to boast when it's done, mind you - nobody likes a braggart. But I think it will be more interesting for you to see it as it unfolds than to just hear me talk about how I want it to happen, and more enjoyable whenever we finally unveil the finished product.

So anyway. This was all kind of to say that I'll be posting lots of different pics of our bus. It's not a tutorial per se, but the captions are pretty informational, anyway. Except for my kids' initials; those are faked to help maintain their privacy. But whatever. Enjoy the show!

Nathaniel and R, our oldest daughter

The eponymous True Family (minus one), working and playing on the bus

Nathaniel and the open emergency escape hatch...

...And through the emergency escape hatch

Nathaniel examines the exterior fuse box

Man, that's a lot of fuses and wires. Glad he can learn the electrical side of things, because I think I'd be rather hopeless at it. I look at this and I'm instantly overwhelmed, haha!

Nathaniel checks out the battery storage, behind the front driver's side wheel, and below the fuse box. We may eventually add more batteries to create a solar power bank here, possibly moving these engine batteries elsewhere.

The ghost of our bus's past as a Krapf Coach. Heehee...

We've been collecting pallets to use for framing and furniture in the bus. Free pallets aren't too hard to find if you keep your eyes peeled when you're driving around.

Aubri's son and our middle daughter, M, frolic in the bus. Notice the watermark, and the asterisk.*

Windows*

Don't let the pigeons drive the bus!*

Rear view mirror*

Taping out where certain things in our floor plan will go. Thanks for the idea, Pinterest!

The biggest snowfall of the winter, and it happened in March. Thank God spring is finally here for real. Not fake, like March pretends to be spring. You don't fool me, March. I'm onto you.

So there's a little taste of what's been going on behind the scenes around these parts this past winter. Stay tuned for those tutorials...someday...

And til next time:

What led Leelee to suddenly purge her kitchen cupboards of over half of her dishes?

What does she plan to do with the things she's getting rid of?

And why is she writing in a large, bold font?

Tune in again soon to follow the continuing melodrama of the 

True Family, In:

Operation Big House, Tiny Kitchen

Part I

*Photos with an asterisk courtesy of Aubri Porter, aubriporter.com

Tiny Thoughts About A Large House

Since we came to the unlikely decision to move into a tiny house (and I'm just beginning to feel comfortable referring to the bus in this way. It's a bus...that we're turning into a house...that's just over 200 square feet. I guess it's a "Tiny House"), I've begun to recognize the feelings of dissatisfaction I'm harboring with the amount of stuff we have.

It's not that I want more.

It's that I want so much less.

Some stuff....

Don't get me wrong; we have some very nice things. And it's not that I want No Things. And it's certainly not going to be easy for me to give away or sell many of these things. Like I've said before, I attach sentimental value to just about everything. You can see from these pictures that my decorating style could be described as "Three Dimensional Collage".

But I've come to realize just how much all this stuff consumes my time. So much of my week is structured around the care and keeping of this stuff. These photos show a whimsical side of too many possessions; I'm purposely not showing the mountains of laundry (dirty and clean...but mostly dirty), stacks of used dishes in need of a wash, ever-expanding toy corners, and the fine dust that settles over everything the day after I clean.

...And more stuff...

I've started to wonder what our lives will look like without it all. How much more free time will we have when we reduce our possessions to the essentials and only those things that hold real meaning for us? What will the kids and I get to do when it's not necessary to stay inside nearly every day so Mama can catch up on laundry?

Yet when I look around, I know this is going to be hard for me.

Hard, not just because of the amount of work that's going to go into downsizing, but because I'm going to have to let go of things that I treasure for one [silly] reason or another. Hard, because I happen to like many of my Three Dimensional Collages. Hard, because the sooner I do this, the longer I'm going to live in a house that feels empty by comparison.

I'm aware it sounds more than a little contradictory to say in one breath, "I can't wait to have less stuff!" and, "What will my house feel like with less stuff?" But there you have it. It's hard.

...And still more STUFF!

Moving will be hard, too, because I love where we live now. 

It's huge for an apartment: 2,501 square feet, to be precise. There is more than enough room for both of us adults, our three small kids, and our black Labrador retriever. There's ample closet space. We have cathedral ceilings in our living room. I've got a studio, Nate's got a studio; we have a balcony that's as big as a studio apartment. We live above the place where Nathaniel, my mom, and stepdad all work, so we can get by with only one vehicle; I can ask my mom to run up and visit or watch the kids for short periods during the days she works. We even have a yard (with trees!). Not only all of this, but the rent is totally amazing. Like, "we can support our family on one income while living here" kind of amazing. No doubt, God totally blessed us when he brought us here.

I have told people - and myself - over and over that this is the place we're staying until we can finally afford to buy land. In this line of thinking, I reasoned that our family would be just fine in this house (apartment, whatever) for another decade or more. Actually, as I write this it occurs to me that we've just hit our fifth anniversary in this place; we moved here when I was super pregnant with our first daughter. Time flies. Anyway. We've got a lot of memories here; it's the first place I've lived since moving out of my parents' place at age nineteen that has honestly felt like Home with a capital H. And for all the quirks (drafts, mice, fake wood paneling, ugly carpeting, general disrepair that comes with an aging home), it's still a warm and inviting place.

It's funny how things change.

Like my aversion to tiny houses. I used to look at them and think, "I like the aesthetics. I like the storage. I like how people can build one themselves. I hate the lack of space."

And that's still kinda true, I guess. But since we'd begun talking about downsizing (tinysizing?), I began to realize how this enormous space impacted our daily lives. One, it's a lot to clean, so much of my week revolves around simply keeping all this space tidy (to varying degrees of success). Two, with all this space, it's simply too easy to justify bringing in more stuff without taking out a corresponding amount. Even after getting rid of a lot this past summer, there's still a shocking amount of stuff to go through. Three, all the shouting.

Parents of young kids can relate, I'm sure. It's not that I'm shouting at them, it's that they're shouting at me. If we happen to be in different rooms, my girls see nothing wrong with shouting across the house to talk to me. No matter how many times I stress that they should come close when they want to say something, it rarely occurs to them to do so. And how silly is it to shout back, "Quit yelling! Come here when you want to talk to me!"

Now, when contemplating living in less than a tenth of the space we currently occupy, I think, "How great; a place for everything and everything in its place."

"How lovely, to simply go outside when the space feels just too small."

"How manageable, to only keep what we truly want."

There's nothing inherently better about a tiny house. It's just a different way to live. A way that I think would suit Nathaniel, myself, and the girls. So we can take the focus off of our space, our stuff, and all that goes into both, and begin focusing more on the things that truly matter to us. Our faith, our family, our friends, our goals, and the world around us.

Sounds good to me.

We're Not Crazy...

...But we did buy a school bus...to turn into a house.

So we may be a little crazy.

There she is!

Nate and the as-yet-unnamed bus

Me in back

You may be asking yourself, "Why on God's green earth would a family of five want to move into a school bus?"  Turns out, there's a lot of reasons.

Reason 1: Downsizing.

We've got a huge apartment right now, which is great. What's not so great is all the stuff we've got in this huge apartment. We're a couple with pack rat tendencies. Too often, one of us (usually me) would bring something home simply because it was free, not because it was needed. And too often, things we could give away languish in cupboards or the attic, forgotten and unused. Sentimental value gets attached to everything. And don't get me started on all the stuff waiting to be used in future art projects. Collage is the enemy of tidiness.

Reason 2: Decreased Cost of Living

We're not foolish enough to think that we'll be living for free. There's the cost of gas, the cost of a campground, the cost of buying property to park on. But to pay cash on this as we go along means that once this bus is done, it's ours. No more paying rent on something that we love but ultimately don't own. Cut out the cost of heating a drafty house, and we're already saving several hundred dollars every month.

Reason 3: Fulfilling a Dream 

A weird dream, but a dream nonetheless. Nathaniel (my husband) and I have long wanted to build our own home and homestead, but until fairly recently, the bus was something only I desired. But when we began to talk about relocating from Lancaster County, PA, there's was always the sticky wicket of a place to live while we built our dream home. With a converted school bus - or skoolie, how badass does that sound? - our home comes with us wherever we go. Not to mention that while it's only a temporary home while we gear up for bigger things, we build it ourselves. So it's the start of fulfilling a dream.

Reason 4: Flexibility

Here's where some of you are going to roll your eyes. But in all honesty, part of this dream of homesteading involves cutting our cost of living far enough that we can make a small but decent living "doing our own thing." We plan to garden, and hopefully to raise small livestock like chickens or fish (yes, fish). I have a small handcrafted soap company with big plans to expand into other natural wares, like body care and cleaning products. I love doing collage, working with felt, sewing, and would love to refinish furniture. Nathaniel carves wood, forges knives and swords, loves engineering, and is an incredibly talented artist, if I do say so myself. With the internet at our disposal, we hope that we can make enough of a living selling our wares online and at craft fairs to provide for our family. Doing so would afford us the ability to travel more freely, and to be able to come back to PA for a month or more in the summer to visit our families.

Reason 5: Why Not?

'Nuff said. Skoolie living ain't for everybody, but if we want to do it - and have a clear vision and the ability to do it - why shouldn't we?

There's undoubtedly going to a lot of bumps in the road as we go forward, and we've got a whole range of emotions about the prospect of leaving the only area either of us has ever known, but we're dedicated to this. While the end result of where we end up and what we do once we're there might change over time, we both agree that this skoolie is where we want to start.

So stay tuned, this is gonna be interesting.