family: its all we got.

I remember each state we lived in as a family, by various events or circumstances that taught me something (and I still live by those very lessons to this day).

Alaska was a bright time. a clear, fresh time of sheer adventure and mischief. My favorite thing in the world was pillaging our neighbors strawberry garden in the summer, and following moose-tracks into the frozen white wilderness in the winter.
I had two (count em) two best friends. Marli and Sandra (those names became like one name in my sentences, like "I'm going to marliansandras! ) They were the daughters of a vietnamese princess (or so i was told) who moved to alaska and lived across the street. They had one older brother named benjamin, who lived his life to torture me (i couldn't find my bike for an entire winter, because ben hid it so deep in the snow. I didn't see my bike until well into spring.)

Marliansandra were my bestests, and I could always count on them to have the most extravagant adventures with. And maybe it was because their mom still had a thick vietnamese accent, and slurped noodles with chopsticks, but going to their house always seemed exotic. We were able to eat sugar cereals (the ones that came in individual size boxes, and didn't even need a bowl! you just opened the little box, and poured the milk right in. I have never seen such luxury in all my days.)
I attribute much of my love of culture and ethnicity to marliansandra, and even benjamin, who always ended up apologizing for his misdoings.

Cody Wyoming. I remember pulling up to our house for the first time ("the parsonage") and repeating the phrase "ihatewyoming.ihatewyoming.ihatewyoming" over and over. Maybe it was because of the skeletol landscape, or the small town miles from real civilization, or maybe it was because my little soul knew of things to come. maybe my words cursed our time in that barren place, but all i know is, wyoming holds a place in my heart, a place reserved for things that have been horrendously hard, but have taught me alot, and given me hope for life and people and love and beauty.

Wyoming was windy. And our house, situated between a valley and a large hill acted like a punching bag for all that crazy wind. maybe we were in a wind funnel, or maybe it was Gods breath trying to blow us away from the things he knew were going to break us.

I couldn't sleep. I just knew our house was going to blow over, and we would all die awful, windy deaths. I had visions of the house caving in, and each member of my family blowing away into that barren wasteland that is Wyoming, never to be seen again. I told my mom this fear. my poor mom, trying to homeschool all three girls, while trying to remain afloat spiritually in a place where christ is stifled. I told my poor tired mom how i thought we were all going to be swept away from each other into the black windy night, and our house would be seen rolling through the fields. and this was my moms reply:

"Candyce, do you see those cows" (we were passing one of a billion fields full of livestock)
"yes" i said.
"well, have you ever seen one of them blow over?"
"no"
"exactly. if the cows don't blow away from all this wind, neither will our house, and neither will you. but, if you see a cow blown over, tell me, cause then we got something to worry about."

And at that moment, my fear was gone. and that wonderful beautiful logic that only a child would understand. it truly soothed me. and our house never blew away, and neither did I. Thanks mom.

And then there's Auburn. When I think of Auburn california, I immediately conjure images of sunshine, pools, and punk rock shows. Auburn is where I first began to realize i was a total loser (Thank you christian school) and totally cool at the same time. I attended a christian jr. high school my 6th grade year, and that was the year i developed an extreme dislike for mean christian girls. they were out to get me, and to this day, i have no idea why. But at church, I was a rock star. My two older sisters we in a punk rock band, and that made me awesome in my circle of friends. there was even talk about me and a few of the older boys forming a band of our own...

It really was like living two seperate lives. At school, my only friend was a japanese exchange student, i ALWAYS got chosen last for sports, and my teacher told me in front of the whole class, that I should be better, simply because I was a pastors daughter. But church saved me (socially, that is). To this day, I am extremely OK with being a loser, because I know there are always people who enjoy me, and think i am great.

And then Sisters Oregon. Sisters was a small, dysfunctional town. But at the time, the "hangar" (an actual empty airplane hangar, the meeting place of the towns one youth group) was totally happening. My sister and I (the oldest was in SoCal for college) thought maybe we found our niche. Everyone seemed so alive, and ready to praise the Lord! at least, at the hangar they did. My freshman year, I started attending public school for the first time. There are so many myths in the homeschool community, and the most popular at the time was that public school was, quite literally, from the devil. The stories of drugs, and sex and teenagers not going to church all loomed on my horizon that first day. But, despite the stories, I ended up liking my time in public school. It was in public school I learned that i can, in fact, be friends with non-christians (they were nicer most of the time anyway) and that i have a very real dislike for drama (not the class, i loved drama class) but actual ridiculous teenage drama.

The summer of my junior year, my parents moved us to Homer, Alaska. It was a potential job opportunity for my dad, and so to check it out, we lived there for an entire summer.
It was amazing. The fishing, the hiking, making new friends, being able to breathe again, outdoor adventures... it was all coming back. I still look back on that summer as one of the best summer so my life. and it got me ready for Portland.

As a family, we heard from God that we were not supposed to live in homer, or sisters, but instead head to Portland. and we did.

It was in Portland that I attended my 3rd and final high school, where I skipped my own graduation, had about 30 different jobs, learned to love the rain, lived in apartments, and started to see God like he really is.
It was living in Portland that I started to have a real thirst for truth and experience. Portland was like a time set aside for me, to process that which had already gone on in my short life. And in that time, I decided a few things:

1. I am done with phonies.

2. I know God is bigger than what I have previously been told or shown.

3. I need Christ/adventure


And to this day, I live by that. I wish so much that I could recount every story, every church, home, pet and adopted brother we had throughout the strannigan life. I wish i could describe in detail, every person who ever taught me something, whether they did it meanly, or in kindness. There are so many old stories, but my oldest, most secret story happened when i was so young. I was probably around 4, but it remains with me to this day.

I dont even remember where we lived at the time (presumably Citrus Heights, cause thats where i was born) and I dont remember being with the whole family. I am sure there were there, i just dont remember them there. I remember being with my mom, and we were at an amusement park, most likely sea world or something similar. I was always the kind of kid to wander off, not on purpose but because when something catches my attention, i need to see it closely, to figure it out. well, I wandered off, and the picture in my mind is grey and it looks like it is turning to dusk with menacing clouds in the sky.

There was a ball pit for tired mothers to take their little kids to, where the kids can just play their hearts out and the moms can relax. I was at the ball pit, but it wasn't a normal ball pit. it was shaped like a huge, sad whale. like monstro from penocchio. I remember coming out of the ball pit, and realizing I had not told my mom I was going to be in there. It was just me, and the gigantic sad whale looming over me. At that moment, I just knew I was alone. My mom was gone. My family no where to be seen. I was going to have to take care of myself, and I was terrified.

Looking back, its not such a scary memory. but i remember the feeling of utter lonliness. like i would never have help again in my entire life. like i was truly going to have to live this life alone. just me and the whale. I had already planned to stay buried under all those colorful balls for the night, when out of no-where, my mom scooped me up, and said "there you are!" Oh sweet relief! How close I felt to being alone!

My mom assured me (not in words necessarily) that I was never alone. even if she had never found me, and I lived the rest of my days in that whaley ball pit, I still was not alone. Christ is with me, like he is with you.
Its the story of my life. From Wyoming, to Auburn, from Sisters to Portland, I have never been alone. I have the most incredible family of all time, and we have been through hell and back together, and even on top of that, we have Christ.