Christmas Letter 2010

Merry Christmas to all!
From the life and times of John and Cheryl Downing


2010 is almost over… so here is my annual Christmas letter for a merry little trip into some of the adventures of our life. I hope the outline below will make the letter a bit easier to get through. Yes, I know my previous letters had a tendency to stretch out a bit, but now I’ve broken the year into a short outline for easy reading! Can’t beat that, can you?

Have a great New Year!

John & Cheryl Downing


“Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death.”
~Harold Wilson (1916 - 1995)


Outline

Bonnie and Clyde: Starting off the New Year 2 - 3


Home Group – Adventures with God 3


New Neighbors = New Paint and New Chores 3 - 4


3rd Annual Block Party 4


Snowboarding into nothingness! 4 - 5


Drifting in the Fog and Rain 5 - 6


Final Debt – The Axe of Atlas Falls 6 - 8


Thanksgiving Bobcat 8 - 9


Adoption Process 9


The End with New Beginnings? 9



Bonnie and Clyde: Starting off the New Year
The beginning of the year came with two visitors that arrive just as a wave of icy artic air hit the northwest. The visitors came to be known as Bonnie and Clyde – the notorious criminals, also known as Dirty Rats. Yes, two rats invaded our humble home. The first one, Bonnie found herself trapped in less than a couple hours in an undersized, every day mouse trap. The metal bar snapped closed around her neck, but she wasn’t hurt. Not at all! In fact, she just tired out trying to find a place to hide with the stockade prison shackled around her neck preventing her from squeezing into the best hiding spots. She just gave up when I found her. No attempt at negotiating her release; not a squeak, not a peep… nothing. She left immediately by way of the local garbage service.

Clyde, unfortunately decided to take up residence under our kitchen cabinets, dishwasher, and refrigerator. He could be heard chewing his way through the wall studs at all times of the day, which freaked us all out. Then one Sunday, I stood my ground in the kitchen with Cheryl and William watching from the apparent safety of the living room, which we had blocked off in preparation for the battle. The battle blasted into action once I upset his little home with a broom stick. As he blazed into motion, my barefoot lashed out, meeting Clyde’s side with a vengeance. To my surprise, he attempted a double back flip with a one-quarter rotation to land in a ninja-like battle stance! My kick, delivered with intense ferocity, threw him off balance but his exceptional combat skills brought him darting around me in a full sprint, allowing him to escape unharmed through the only hole I didn’t see during my pre-battle preparation. Disappearing into the counters again, I found my lovely wife completely traumatized by the interaction.

“You’re NOT going back to work until that thing is GONE!” Cheryl proclaimed with her index finger pointing upward. It’s good to know she chose the correct finger to display at that moment; the situation deserved another finger with a whole different meaning added to it… And I knew this had to end. At this time, Clyde had successfully trespassed for nearly a month.

That night came with a pre-bed time prayer: “God,” I asked while standing alone in the kitchen. “Deliver this rat to me… Old Testament style!” Strange to pray a prayer like that… and sincerely mean it.

4 AM the next morning (a Monday of all days), Cheryl woke up to scratching in the room next to ours. After scouting the whereabouts of my enemy among the scattered furniture and bed frames stored in the neighboring room, I retrieved my weapons of war to deal with Clyde… Old Testament style, just like I prayed for.

I closed the door behind me, and after piercing the walls with several badly aimed thrusts with a BBQ fork taped onto a broom handle, I finally trapped Clyde in a boxed area where it pleaded with me: whimpers, whines, pouting black eyes, and even bowing its head in submission. I discarded the tiny bit of empathy bubbling into my heart and regained my composure. One thrust of my BBQ fork/ spear pinned it against the wall, but the aim proved poor and Clyde remained alive, crying out in terrible pain. My contacts are not part of my battle gear, hence my poor aim. The gruesome details are inappropriate for a Christmas letter; just know the whole thing was a mess! After my alarm rang in my bedroom, I found the one thing to bring this ordeal to an end: A long metal bed frame that became the final instrument of death. While I held the beast skewered against the wall, I hammered away, pummeling it straight to rat-hell… or rat-heaven, if that makes you feel better. I cleaned up the mess, and as it sank into the garbage bag grave, I verified Clyde indeed was a male. Strangely, this intimate inquiry came at Cheryl’s request! You see, if Clyde proved to be a female, we might need to chase down a bunch of little rats…Cheryl is very wise!

Home Group – Adventures with God
Early in January, we decided that a church home group would be great to attend, but sadly our schedules were conflicting with the active home group schedules. After a short discussion with Cheryl, we agreed that if a current home group leader in Albany walked halfway across the church, stood directly in front of me and looked me in the face, then we’d consider it a clear clue to ask if we could host a group in Corvallis. The details we agreed upon were such that no coincidence could be questioned – no gray, just black or white.

Within minutes, the guy’s little girl bolted across the sanctuary to stand right at my feet! The guy ran after the little lady, scooping her up to look right into my face. “Hi!” I said to the guy. “Got a minute?”

As it turns out, not only did the guy want to start a home group in Corvallis, he wanted to transfer the leadership to the host and hostess… meaning us! Well, this wasn’t exactly what we were looking to get into, but we said “what the heck!?” After about two months, the leadership transferred to us, and we’ve been leading ever since. The amazing thing, believe it or not, is that every week before home group we ask God what HE wants to do… and He tells us! Every week is different and it has become clear that we are simply the messengers and ambassadors to those who attend. The group has become family to us, and has been with us through some of the most difficult times of the year. Keep reading for the drama!

New Neighbors = New Paint and New Chores
The attached condo/home sold this year, and is now occupied by the actual owners. This change brought up the question of the exterior color… the existing color was UGLY and Cheryl hated it! Well, after living there for four years, I got used to it and really didn’t care too much. Yes, the sea-foam green/ teal gutters and trim carried a vintage 1978 look, and it probably had not been painted since the day it was built, but who the heck wanted to paint a house!? Not this guy!

The assertive neighbors, plus my adorable wife, brought this task into my life but it became unavoidable. Any procrastinator would be proud of everything I did to petition the hiring a painting contractor rather than attempting the work ourselves. The savings-through-sweat were too great to pass up, and we ventured away from the professionals and targeted a weekend in July – the hottest weekend up to that date! Oh, did I mention I sincerely DO NOT like heights!? The two story house extended more than 20 feet above the ground, and that barely reaches the underside of the eves. Ugh! I’d rather be 20 feet down a sewer manhole! While the neighbors had three experienced assistants, we hired an Army National Guard soldier who LOVED climbing ladders in extreme heat. Cheryl ran off to teach Zumba while the soldier and I sprayed our half of the entire structure, leaving the trim for me and Cheryl. Even with the heat, my parents drove from Portland to help with the trim. The soldier came back the following Monday to do the upper trim and all the upper gutters for us and the neighbors. The guy was GOOD! He saved us time, sweat, energy, and heart complications from the heights I would have had to deal with.

The neighbors also inspired Cheryl to remove ALL the blackberries growing on the backside of the fence. She proved very aggressive and dealt a huge blow to the vines. Sadly, removing the vines illustrated one terrible fact – the vines held the fence in place! So, William helped me remove and replace several sections of fencing; some of which simply fell to pieces without even touching it. The old fence proved useful for one last purpose – FIRE! Additionally, Cheryl helped cut the deck down, leaving about ¼ of what it used to be. Currently, grass is trying to grow where the deck stood.

And as of the writing of this letter… we just finished repainting nearly the entire interior of the house!

3rd Annual Block Party
The old fence once securely held in place by blackberries burned extremely well during the block party, but using it came with an awful consequence. The smoke from the fire held something that found its way into my left eye, causing an infection to develop, complete with the gooey, yuck and nasty swelling typical to pink eye. After nearly a week of eye drops, the infection finally faded but the timeless warning remained: “Put face in smoke, get gunk in eye”

Snowboarding into nothingness!
I had the opportunity to head up to Ski Bowl on Mt. Hood for spring snowboarding in near-perfect conditions. Light, fluffy, fresh snow hit the mountain the night before with blue sky unfolding over the mountain just for me and my snowboarding buddy, Chris.

We spent several hours on the groomed slopes, dancing down medium and difficult runs (blue and black) with terrain parks woven into the fun. He asked if we could go find a gorgeous stretch of black diamond terrain that appeared untouched by those skiers who love to turn a perfectly powdered slope into a terrible, nasty chopped collection of mounds difficult for most snowboarders. Of course, I agreed to the pursuit of perfect snow, so up to the top we went.

“I think it’s this way,” he said as he cruised past a set of parallel posts missing the official signage designating the location as an actual ski area. At first, the slope proved to be absolutely wonderful! We shred through the thick, fresh snow under a brilliantly blue sky with a light breeze flowing through the trees. But our dreamy conditions faded as the trail ended in a hard-cut slab of snow resting precariously above a dense forest of dark trees. To my left, the top third of the terrifying trees shadowed an unknown drop into trapped silence where no one would ever think to look. To my right, the cut edge of the trees above appeared ready to slide at any moment. This was NOT a good place to be!

The horizontal curve around the face of the mountain proved exceedingly difficult for me. Snowboards are not really suited to go sideways without momentum, and the thick snow stole every bit of forward movement, along with every ounce of energy I could muster. Taking my board off to walk through the snow crossed my mind, but when I would use my hands to push myself across the snow, my arms would sink to the shoulder without resistance. Stepping into the fluff would have trapped me for sure, so I scooted and scooted and scooted across the snow, praying for an actual trail to open up for us.

Just when I thought I had no more energy, I encountered tops of trees stabbing up through the snow, creating sunken wells I had to drop down into and then pop out of just to keep working my way to safety. Realize that tree wells can actually be large voids beneath the layer of snow. Fortunate for me, Chris went through first! Without momentum, strength, endurance, or sweat left inside of my body, my hopes dwindled thin. I made it through the tree wells, most of the time climbing on my stomach rather than sliding on my board. After half a dozen or more tree wells, I followed Chris up a sharp slope waiting for me. To my great satisfaction, he had found a defined trail on the other side of a wide grove of large trees. The trees were spread apart enough where he danced through seemingly without effort.

As for me, I sat exhausted on the side of the mountain watching him cruise down to the trail below. Not to leave this area without some pleasant memory, I hopped into the air, kicking my board out to land on my butt 15 to 20 feet down the tree littered slope. I knew this would be the last trip of the season, and I had to redeem this trip from the misery I’d just experienced. So, I hopped and hopped and hopped my way down through the trees to find my friend laughing and shaking his head at me. I was a six year old again! Now THAT is entertainment!

As we cruised on our boards down to the well-used black diamond slope, a ski patrol medic turned in shock when he saw us emerge out of the area where we’d just come. He didn’t say anything… he didn’t need to. His expression told me everything I already knew – we had no business being in that area!

The final drop down the slope brought some fun, but it wasn’t the slope we were targeting. The untouched face remained out of our grasp as we walked back to the car completely exhausted.

Drifting in the Fog and Rain
Another friend of mine has a drift boat, and I asked if I could help him practice running a river. William, now age 14 came along due to the day being proclaimed as “Forced Family Fun Day” rather than any desire he had to be on the river.

The North Santiam River is one I know pretty well from my kayaking days, and I felt comfortable enough for an adventure in a drift boat. My friend piloted the South Santiam River several times, but the North Santiam is much more technical and difficult. At my request, we were going to launch just upstream from the Mill City falls to start the adventure off with a drop and a bang. My friend was a bit concerned about running his boat over the water fall, but I assured him that all would be well. You see, I’d been over the falls nearly a dozen times in a kayak, and had watched drift boats as they dropped over it, so what could the problem be!? Turns out the boat launches in the area had all been removed, maybe for good reasons! The only other boat launch was located up stream and guaranteed passage through areas like Carnivore, Boulder Gardens, The Swirlies, and Spencer’s Hole far before we ever reached the water fall. We agreed that those areas were far above our piloting skills and we launched downstream at a much safer place called Fisherman’s Bend. You can read about my experiences through those treacherous areas in previous Christmas letters.

At this time, I’d like to note that I had mentioned several times that I’d NEVER piloted a drift boat before, and all my skills were related to running white water – simply to have fun, not to fish or spend time in any one location. After hitting rock after rock in the low water, barely maneuvering through the twisting crazy currents, taking water over the bow several times, and even spinning completely around while running around a large boulder, we finally determined that MY concept of running a river is NOT my friend’s concept… or any other self-respecting drift boater, as it turns out. Close to the end of the trip he asked why in the world I would purposefully aim for the rollercoaster wave trains and curling white-crested waves when every other drift boater on the planet strains to avoid all of that! I understood his words, but didn’t really grasp the meaning…

Until it finally hit me that drift boating isn’t a sport to play through wonderful white water; it is a tool to work down a river to find suitable fishing spots. Huh! My bad! In my defense, I did the 360 degree spin around the monster boulder on purpose, and we avoided a potentially disastrous situation because of the maneuver. Yes, it was a scary but a very effective technique no matter what craft you’re running. Looking back upstream to peer at the massive obstacles we successfully avoided (by the skin of our teeth) brought thanksgivings like “Oh, praise Jesus!” and “Oh, dear Lord…dear Lord!”

On a positive note, my friend demonstrated skills he wouldn’t have known he possessed otherwise. Now the South Santiam River is an easy trip for him in comparison. Oh, did I mention it was POURING rain during most of the trip? And the fog was so thick at times we could barely see the rocks ahead of us? And only one other boat was seen on the river? And that we had the pleasure of getting photographed in the background of a newly married couple? Yes… overall it proved to be a great experience! One last note: I’ve not been in a boat with my friend since that trip… coincidence? Maybe so… maybe so.



Final Debt – The Axe of Atlas Falls
This year marks my first full year working for the Oregon Dept of Transportation. This also marks the year when Atlas officially died… finally. The IRS and County Tax Assessor still seem to be in denial, though. This year brought some of the most stressful times I’ve weathered with the company, and I thought I’d dealt with some pretty serious issues previously!

The story spans seven months, but I’ll try to compact the details for you. We tried to make payment arrangements with all of the vendors and debtors for the remaining balances the company owed, and for the most part the attempts were welcome and workable. Until one company, we’ll call it US Bank, refused payment arrangements and as soon as they kicked the debt to another department they threatened to take everything I owned – no questions, no mercy, no negotiating payments. You see, I’d spent months trying to work on a feasible pay-down schedule and put out a lot of effort to make sure everyone would get their money, and when US Bank dropped the axe I suddenly realized how long I’d living in the executioner’s shadow, and I just KNEW the end of our financial wellbeing neared the end. US Bank gave me two weeks to get them a HUGE amount of money or the axe would fall.

The other debtors started getting impatient as well, and I had to resign to the fact that bankruptcy and foreclosure would pour into our lives like molten lava. If you’ve read any of my other Christmas stories, especially last year, then you’ll know that God got me into the company and He got me out of the company. Yet I faced the terrifying reality that ‘getting out’ physically didn’t remove the impending doom of debt ready to break down my door and give me a good beating.

During those stressful days leading up to the expiration of all I owned, I had some pretty fierce discussions with God, most of which I apologized for eventually. I’m glad He loves me and is patient with me, because I really didn’t hold anything back. He brought me into the company and now I could only see one solution – bankruptcy. Along with bankruptcy would come the inability to adopt a child, which carved the wound deeper into the heart. Cheryl’s mom offered to help, but the idea of using a rental house to get a loan against proved impossible. The hope of navigating this disaster faded to almost nothing. Failure is rarely an option for me, but at that time I could only try to face my failure and try to remain upright and breathing until I could see light at the end of the tunnel. ‘Broken’ does not do justice to what I felt… I was crushed.

Two days before the axe fell, Cheryl’s mom had a bond mature for the EXACT amount needed to contain and clear ALL of the debt drawing us deep into the pit of despair. The not-so-nice representative with US Bank changed the payment requirement expiration without warning. It moved from 1pm to 11am as Cheryl’s mom raced toward the goal to make the payment on our behalf. The payment successfully transferred with less than 37 minutes to spare! Nearly all of the debtors were paid in less than a couple days, and the world suddenly looked like a different place.

The light began to reemerge into my life, and as I drove to work the next day, I gasped at the most amazing sight I’d seen in a very long time: A sunrise JUST FOR ME! Brilliant orange streams of sunlight blazing over the mountains spread into a perfect fan displayed like nothing I’ve ever seen. Absolutely amazing! Cruise control and a camera phone helped save the image for the rest of my life.

That day, July 30th, 2010 began a new season for us. I felt like a man set free from the gallows! Now we’re making payments to Cheryl’s mom with interest close to what she would have gotten from investing it. She is amazing to help us out! And God is amazing to have delivered us through this entire thing, and holding executioner’s axe at bay! God ROCKS!


Thanksgiving Bobcat
We had the pleasure of spending Thanksgiving week in Costa Mesa, California with Cheryl’s brother and his family. I found time to play in the calm surf in Newport Beach, but the surf was pretty tame and aside from another guy who dipped into the water for less than 30 seconds, I swam alone. Cheryl sat on the beach while I played for a while in the 55 degree water. The locals thought sunny and 60-ish degrees to be so frigid that parkas, mittens, hats, scarves, and fluffy boots were required! Everything was the most current designer fashions, of course.

On Thanksgiving Day, we walked along a path beside a wild life reservation known as The Back Bay. The warm sun and cool breeze was delicious! As we walked along, I pointed out a large dark shape that darted through the bush ahead of us, but a ways off the trail. I told Cheryl that I thought it was a coyote… and she froze in her tracks! I tried coxing her forward, and she actually moved up with trail with me for a short bit until an oversized house cat jumped playfully onto the trail ahead of us. The tips of its ears had the thin wisps of hair typical to wild cats, but we weren’t sure what it was exactly.

Cheryl’s tight grip, coupled with the fact her nails are long & strong, helped convince me to turn back down the trail and leave the wildlife alone. Once she started breathing again, she explained that the only place for coyotes and wild cats are in cartoons like Madagascar and the Jungle Book. A County employee working on that day told us that the cat was actually one of three kittens belonging to a much larger Bobcat named Babe. Babe, a local celebrity of sorts, made the papers several times because she liked to walk down the center of crowded boardwalks or simply sunbathe on the side of a busy walking trail. My question is this: where is the male bobcat!?

Adoption Process
Most people know we have worked through the many hoops to get qualified to adopt through the State Foster Care System. We were selected with one other family to adopt a 3 year old little girl, but the State chose the other family before we could really get our hopes up.

About a month later, we were selected to be considered to adopt twins (1 ½ year old boy & girl) but again we were not selected. We actually had some hopes building for the twins, and we did grieve a bit after the notice, but we’re continually putting our hand in the air for other kids, so we’re confident that next year’s Christmas letter will hold another grand adventure on the road of life!

The End with New Beginnings?
I wanted to finish this Christmas letter with an announcement introducing a new job I’m in the running for… but process in the government doesn’t move that fast, as the final round of interviews were on the 21st of December and it’s the season to disappear and go be jolly… just not at work. So, the year ends with a huge question waiting until the new year – will I break into management with the State of Oregon Dept of Transportation or sit quietly in a local district office in Eugene/ Springfield? The end of one invites the start of another… a year, a job, a way of life… stand by for change, again!

We have high hopes for the year to come. Cheryl’s aerobic classes are getting bigger every session and she simply just loves all of her ladies attending the classes. I’m busy trying to land a management position within the Department of Transportation and have some important applications in process waiting to hear from the hiring managers. I have a book I’ve been working on I hope to have published, and a unique creation I hope to begin to market soon. I think 2011 is going to be a great year in many different ways!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Happy New Year!