Year One

A year ago tomorrow was our wedding day! The love and light from that amazing day will never fade. It's said that life is made up of the simple things and I can say that lines up with what we've experienced this year.  We love to think back upon those butterfly effect moments, those simple things, that led us to where we are today and it's thrilling to think that as we go about each day, we live many other butterfly effect moments that will lead us to where we go tomorrow.

In knowing Adam for four years, I've learned lots about him. But there are times in our life that what I learn about him comes in gigantic waves. We were surprised to find out early this summer that we would be expecting a baby early in 2013. I will never forget Adam's expression when I told him. His eyes lit up and for the first time, we began thinking about the family we were beginning. What do we do? I don't even know how to make kneecaps or anything! Within weeks, we settled into the grand idea that we would shortly be welcoming our first little one. I bought Adam the first book that he would read the baby and when we were in New York, we picked up a West Point onesie, so we would be prepared for football games. We shared the news with Adam's family and I sent a book to surprise my parents with the news.

Just a day after I sent this book, we lost the baby. I can't accurately explain the horror of the experience without detailing the entire process. It truly was awful. But we reminded ourselves to be grateful because it could have been worse. I cried for days and it was difficult to get used to the idea that I was only me again. But Adam truly provided so much of what I needed to be able to move ahead. I struggled quite a bit with the idea that our little one was not given a proper goodbye but Adam had the most assuring response and although it was so difficult, we made it through together. We decided to name our little one and to light up one of those paper balloons that you send into the sky. Of all the memories of our first year, although it is the most sad, it also is the sweetest. Knowing that I am married to a man of character that is strong and caring and supportive is absolutely priceless and it makes celebrating our first anniversary that much sweeter.

So, to my husband, whom I love more than anything... thank you for all of our special memories. You make my life rich and beautiful every single day. I love you.

Community, Family, and the FBI

Eric has been talking in church about community and the importance of investing in three different layers of relationships: the close, intimate relationships such as family and very close friends; the typical friendships or acquaintances; and the chance meetings. I am so bad at being intentional about building and maintaining relationships. I let important events slide by without giving them the honor due.

Last weekend, I went out to lunch with my grandparents. I am so lucky to have them near. They have gone to lengths to help raise me and to support me and Rob when he was sick. I am so grateful for their influence in my life. Yet, I don’t really communicate or spend the time I want to spend with them. It takes intention, doesn’t it? It takes not letting a thought pass by without a phone call. I really value my family. My parents and grandparents. My wonderful aunts and uncles and the cousins spread halfway across the country that I’ve known since I was born. Those are special relationships.

I was just in the coffee shop reading and preparing for a paper I am about to write. A man came in with his daughter, who was in her early teens. They shared some cold coffee drinks and sat and talked about life. They had Bibles and were talking about the importance of knowing scripture and letting it resonate and sink into their minds and hearts. Then they sat and played board games together. It was beautiful. It wasn’t quick. It was intentional. His mentorship in her life will make a difference. It impressed me so much and it stuck with me. This girl will remember these precious times her dad set aside for the two of them.

We are tricked into believing that the people we love will always be around. But truly, we know deep down they won’t. The present time is the time we’ve been given. I want to be more intentional about honoring my love for my family by spending time with them and communicating with them more.

When I was at lunch with my grandparents, they told me stories about when Granddad was in graduate school. They lived in St. Louis. I loved to hear about their living situations the first year there. The first apartment was about 10x12 with a restroom that also had a clothes washer. There was a door from this room that went straight outside. They shared this with a family who lived on the other side of a cardboard divider. Grams decorated with paper curtains. A man moved in a few months later that liked to cook with garlic all the time, so they moved to a new apartment. I didn’t hear too much about this second apartment. The third one, though, was on Cabanne street in St. Louis. It was a big mansion divided into a number of apartments. It was a far cry from the tiny space they occupied earlier in the year. It had a Murphy bed that folded out of the wall and a separate dressing room and nice kitchen. Their apartment had previously been the library of the mansion. It had big, beautiful windows that looked out to the front lawn. The story went on to talk about them learning that the rest of the occupants of the house were supporters of communism. The KKK would light crosses on their front lawn and the FBI moved in to their apartment after they left so they could overhear communist radio broadcasts coming from the apartment next door.

This was the highlight of my week.

Love and Trust. Trust and Love.

Can we trust without love?

I am reading The Shack by William P. Young. It details an interesting discussion between a man and the Trinity - God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. One of the ideas it poses is that "Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved" (p. 126). Today I had to let that sit in my mind for a while. And still it moves around, gaining momentum. Can I trust someone who doesn't love me? I don't think so, really. Because one who loves me has my best interests in mind. Someone who loves me has a vested interest in protecting me. And because of that love, I don't need to impose expectations or rules in the relationship. I can just be. And trust takes over.

But then, I think, sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes it takes a choice - the choice to do what is right regardless. To stick it out and to do what is best for a relationship despite wanting to run away. Wait. Maybe that IS love. There are so many dimensions to love. And I'm realizing that love is less about passion and more about a deep sense of wanting good for another. Love is about setting aside your own needs and pursuing the fulfillment of the needs of another. In this environment of giving, I think it is impossible not to trust.

Goodnight, Ceiling Fan

I enjoy the bit of independence I have in my life. I get to go climb when I want to and eat late when I want to and work late when I want to. There's no one that depends on me to get home to take care of dinner or anything like that. When I was married, I usually rushed home after work to get dinner going and then I sat on my ass watching TV the rest of the night. Lame.

Today I worked late and then climbed. I came home to take Wyatt out for a while and fixed a super late dinner. So mellow. And there was no responsibility for anyone else. Nice.

But then, when I did come home, it was lonely. No one to talk with about the day. No one to laugh with in the kitchen. No one to tuck into bed with and to kiss goodnight and to feel the warmth of their skin next to me. Well, my dog... not quite the same, right? So I think I stay away as much as I can. I get on my bike or take Wyatt for a run until it's dark. And I quickly fix dinner and then head to bed ignoring all that I miss about having someone there.

It's so nice to have someone there. To sit and breathe together. To have breakfast together or to sit outside near the fire together. Someone to fill up the car with gas while you take care of something else. To bounce ideas off of. To laugh with. To love. And to be loved. I think that's what I miss most about being married to Robert. He really loved me. Of course, that came with a slew of other issues. I began to wonder if it was possible. I didn't think a man could really love a woman. But I know it is possible. Just rare. So maybe the total independence isn't all it's cracked up to be. Ah, life.

Goodnight, then, computer. And dog. And ceiling fan. Goodnight, closet. Goodnight, dishwasher.