It's been exactly 8 months 1 week and 3 days since my last blog post. My hiatus wasn't intentional and it also wasn't something that went unnoticed. Actually, I've attempted to write posts since then, most of which I either never finished or never actually pressed the "publish" button. I guess some might say I've had writer's block, but it feels a bit more complex than that.
How can I write when I have both nothing to say and everything to say simultaneously? How can I write when everything in my life is different and yet everything is pretty much still the same? Where do I start? Where do I end?
It's like when I'm asked the oh so familiar, "How's married life?" question. Well, sir, I just don't know how to answer you. You see, I've been married now for a little over four months and my mind and heart and days are buzzing with thoughts and feelings and tasks that I never even knew existed (or at least had never experienced before). And while it's wonderful and fun and so very delightful, it's also hard and a lot of work and I'm learning things about myself, things that sometimes feel a bit dark and (to be honest) a bit scary. But I guess it's best to have that sin deep inside of me uprooted and shown for what it really is than to live in ignorance, never really experiencing true freedom. So I'm grateful to marriage for that. And I'm grateful to marriage for all of the gooey warm feelings, too. And sure, time commitments are a bit more challenging, but I also get to live with my best friend now and that's pretty great. And...
Truth is, I sound like a rambling idiot. Truth is, no one really wants to hear that answer. So I smile and exclaim, "Marriage is great!" And I move on to the next question from the next person, worded a bit differently, but at its core is really just the same.
As you can see, I haven't written because even though I have a million thoughts, I'm not exactly sure what to say. These days, my thoughts tend to ramble and my heart tends to feel 10,000 emotions every day.
Married life is very different than single life. Actually, married life is much more different than I ever thought it would be from the single life. My hopes, dreams, actions and my past, present, and future are no longer my own. I am fully known and fully loved by another, despite my shortcomings and sin, which is truly a remarkable thing. All of that is very difficult to fully wrap my head around. I don't think one is better than the other, married life from single life, they are just very different, and it takes some time to adjust.
Marriage has brought change to almost every area of my life. I'm living with a permanent roommate (my husband) and learning how to share everything I own with someone else. I'm learning how much bills and taxes actually cost and I'm living in a different town and in a different state. I'm a part of a new family with new traditions, new ethnic backgrounds, and new faces to love. I also have a new last name, which is a daily reminder that my life is new, that my whole self now belongs to another.
The piece I'm pretty sure will take me a bit longer to fully grasp is the fact that there is now a "Mrs." before my name. Mrs. Oh, that's strange. But I guess we're all growing up. I guess that's what everyone talks about when they mention how fast life flies by because it feels like it was just yesterday that I was in high school, going to swim practices and play rehearsals. Now all of a sudden I'm a Mrs. and I have doctors that are around the same age as me and I'm beginning to plan for a life with children. I'm suddenly at the life stage where I relate more to the parents in sitcoms than to the teenagers in them, and I'm not quite sure when that shift happened.
Yet, I'm still me. I still go to the same church and have the same job. I still hang out with the same friends and have the same hobbies and passions. I still laugh at (and tell) the same jokes and I still cry over the same movies.
Not knowing how to reconcile all of that, I decided to just cut my hair, which is eight inches shorter with bangs now because, well, that's what girls do when we don't know what else to do. It was the only thing I could think of doing to help the pieces fit all together in my mind. Now when I look into the mirror, I see the same person, but I look completely different. I see the old and new merging into one complete reflection--not broken or confused, just different. I still see me, it's just a new me.
My husband keeps saying, "We're not the same people that we were 4 or 5 months ago," and it's true. Marriage requires you to grow and change and mature, to make decisions based on another person and not on yourself. Marriage teaches you to love and care, even when you don't really feel like it. And I've found that though I'm still the same person, I am very much a completely different person too, one that I hope is more like Christ.
So there you have it. I haven't blogged, not because I'm lazy or apathetic or too busy, but because I haven't known where to start. Because I feel like in the past 8 months, 1 week, and 3 days everything has changed and yet nothing has changed at the same time.
But I think I'll start right here, right in the middle of the ramblings, right in the middle of my over-stimulated, glowingly newly-wed, fragile thoughts and feelings.
Life is good. Life is hard. Life is much more complex than I ever imagined.
But it's rich and wonderful and as I press forward in my relationship with God and in my relationship with my husband, I find that I wouldn't want it any other way.
So here's to marriage and new schedules and new traditions. Here's to being in love and committing to grow with and for another. Here's to new haircuts on old faces. Here's to being a Mrs.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Thursday, March 26, 2015
six years ago and four months from now
My mother died six years ago today.
I remember that week clearly. I remember the things I saw and the emotions I felt, ones that no eighteen-year-old should ever have to experience. It was in those four days of caring for her when the hospice care fell through that I realized the brokenness of this world that we live in more tangibly than any other time.
About twenty minutes after she passed, I moved into another room with my sister and my friend and random thoughts were buzzing through my brain at light-speed. Two of those thoughts stuck out sharply and I never forgot them. One was that from here on out, I knew that I would always have a difficult time on March 26th. The other was that my wedding day will be spotted with the heartbreak of wishing she were there.
It's interesting that I even thought of my wedding day in that moment, since I've been convinced most of my life that I would never get married. But I think the Lord was speaking to me even then, in the same way that He was speaking to me about marriage before I ever even met Danny.
And here I am, six years older, with a loving fiancé whom I will walk down the aisle to in a white dress four months from today.
That's right. Four month's from today. This anniversary of the worst day of my life is speckled with hope and excitement of the future. But that's what we always find in life, don't we? Mourning alongside of celebration, goodbyes alongside of hellos. The dark canvas of this broken world somehow looks full of hope when you notice the grace of God, bright and inviting.
Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death -- Genesis 24:67
I am grateful that God chose for these dates to align, grateful that He is lovingly beckoning me into a new life stage that is filled with eager anticipation. I love that my God knows how to comfort His daughter, and gives her gentle people to ease the pain of the past. I am grateful that He gave me a soon-to-be husband who taught me how to love again and broke down the walls I put up after my mom died.
But it is hard. And I miss her. And I know that on the day when I say, "I do," I'll be wishing it were my father and mother presenting me at the altar.
I wish she were here for the craziness of wedding planning, that is for sure. But more than that, I wish she were here as I prepare to become someone's wife. I wish she were here for me to ask her all of my questions about what that role is like.
I wish she were here as Danny and I dream about our family down the road and what it will be like to be parents. I wish she were here to tell me all about pregnancy and motherhood and the joys and pains that come with it.
I long for my mama to be here as I enter this new chapter of my life. I long for the one who read me bedtime stories and bandaged up my scraped knees, the one who comforted me when I was bullied in middle school and dealt with all of my teen angst. I wish I could go to the one who was there for the insight and guidance that I need, the one who raised me and loved me despite my flaws.
I wish my mom had met Danny, and that he had met her. I wish she were here to laugh with me about how similar Danny and my dad are, and how similar she and I are now that I'm an adult, and how similar our marriages will probably look.
I miss my mama, in a new way than before. In this new life stage, the heartbreak of missing her hurts different than before. It's not worse or less painful, just different.
I smile when they tell me I'm like you, Mama. Do you know that? I'm proud when I notice that in many ways I'm a little version of you, because I think you were pretty great. And I hope to be a loving wife like you, and a sweet, caring, dedicated mama like you were.
I will tell my children all about you. I will tell them how their grandmother loved the beach and that's why I decided to have a beach wedding. I will tell them how she loved detective things and will teach them to play Clue and read them mystery novels. I will introduce them to all of the classic Broadway musicals and sing my heart out with them around the house.
You'd like Danny, Mama. You'd be so happy that God brought me a man who loves me and cares for me and knows how to calm me down when I'm stressed over my busy schedule (that much hasn't changed...). You'd like how he fits right into the family and how his family deeply cares for me. You'd like how smart he is and gentle he is and how sweet he is to Kirsten. You'd like how he and Dad geek out over their computer programming world together.
You'd like how he cares for me like you used to.
Thanks for always being there. Thanks for being the best mama in the world. I hope that one day, my kids will look back and say the same things about me that I say about you.
I love you, Mom.
I remember that week clearly. I remember the things I saw and the emotions I felt, ones that no eighteen-year-old should ever have to experience. It was in those four days of caring for her when the hospice care fell through that I realized the brokenness of this world that we live in more tangibly than any other time.
About twenty minutes after she passed, I moved into another room with my sister and my friend and random thoughts were buzzing through my brain at light-speed. Two of those thoughts stuck out sharply and I never forgot them. One was that from here on out, I knew that I would always have a difficult time on March 26th. The other was that my wedding day will be spotted with the heartbreak of wishing she were there.
It's interesting that I even thought of my wedding day in that moment, since I've been convinced most of my life that I would never get married. But I think the Lord was speaking to me even then, in the same way that He was speaking to me about marriage before I ever even met Danny.
And here I am, six years older, with a loving fiancé whom I will walk down the aisle to in a white dress four months from today.
That's right. Four month's from today. This anniversary of the worst day of my life is speckled with hope and excitement of the future. But that's what we always find in life, don't we? Mourning alongside of celebration, goodbyes alongside of hellos. The dark canvas of this broken world somehow looks full of hope when you notice the grace of God, bright and inviting.
Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death -- Genesis 24:67
I am grateful that God chose for these dates to align, grateful that He is lovingly beckoning me into a new life stage that is filled with eager anticipation. I love that my God knows how to comfort His daughter, and gives her gentle people to ease the pain of the past. I am grateful that He gave me a soon-to-be husband who taught me how to love again and broke down the walls I put up after my mom died.
But it is hard. And I miss her. And I know that on the day when I say, "I do," I'll be wishing it were my father and mother presenting me at the altar.
I wish she were here for the craziness of wedding planning, that is for sure. But more than that, I wish she were here as I prepare to become someone's wife. I wish she were here for me to ask her all of my questions about what that role is like.
I wish she were here as Danny and I dream about our family down the road and what it will be like to be parents. I wish she were here to tell me all about pregnancy and motherhood and the joys and pains that come with it.
I long for my mama to be here as I enter this new chapter of my life. I long for the one who read me bedtime stories and bandaged up my scraped knees, the one who comforted me when I was bullied in middle school and dealt with all of my teen angst. I wish I could go to the one who was there for the insight and guidance that I need, the one who raised me and loved me despite my flaws.
I wish my mom had met Danny, and that he had met her. I wish she were here to laugh with me about how similar Danny and my dad are, and how similar she and I are now that I'm an adult, and how similar our marriages will probably look.
I miss my mama, in a new way than before. In this new life stage, the heartbreak of missing her hurts different than before. It's not worse or less painful, just different.
I smile when they tell me I'm like you, Mama. Do you know that? I'm proud when I notice that in many ways I'm a little version of you, because I think you were pretty great. And I hope to be a loving wife like you, and a sweet, caring, dedicated mama like you were.
I will tell my children all about you. I will tell them how their grandmother loved the beach and that's why I decided to have a beach wedding. I will tell them how she loved detective things and will teach them to play Clue and read them mystery novels. I will introduce them to all of the classic Broadway musicals and sing my heart out with them around the house.
You'd like Danny, Mama. You'd be so happy that God brought me a man who loves me and cares for me and knows how to calm me down when I'm stressed over my busy schedule (that much hasn't changed...). You'd like how he fits right into the family and how his family deeply cares for me. You'd like how smart he is and gentle he is and how sweet he is to Kirsten. You'd like how he and Dad geek out over their computer programming world together.
You'd like how he cares for me like you used to.
Thanks for always being there. Thanks for being the best mama in the world. I hope that one day, my kids will look back and say the same things about me that I say about you.
I love you, Mom.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
NYE and Noisemakers and Celebrating
I found myself standing in a crowded living room, counting down the final ten seconds of 2014 while holding onto my fiancé(!) tightly and looking around at all of my smiling (and screaming) college friends.
Life is that moment was good.
The past month was a whirlwind of activity and my life as I knew it was also forever changed. The man of my dreams (and my very best friend) asked me to marry him. My cousin, who was raised almost like a big sister to me, had her first baby and I got to hold precious little Avery in my arms as we welcomed her into the world. We had THREE(!) Christmases due to two families now and tiny Avery being born on Christmas Day. We watched as handfuls of friends also got engaged and we celebrated the anticipation of our new lives right alongside of them. I traveled multiple times between a staff training, half of Christmas week at my soon-to-be in-laws, and a vacation to celebrate the New Year in Delaware.
To ring in 2015, eight of us Mary Washington InterVarsity friends and two of our now fiancés decided to rent a house by the beach. In those four days of cooking and cleaning, laughing and dancing, playing Settlers and other games, watching movies, talking, having group manuscript bible studies, chopping wood and making fires, I was reminded that this group would always feel like family to me.
After a year of not seeing these sweet college friends and after a lifetime of believing the lies that I would never be "good enough" for marriage, there was a part of me that still couldn't believe this was my life--in real time--as I stood in that living room on New Year's Eve. As the ball dropped and I kissed my fiancé and cheers-ed my friends and blew my noisemaker as obnoxiously as possible, I was celebrating more than a new date. I was celebrating the culmination of a really great year.
2014, you were a good. I saw my dad come to know Jesus in a real way and grow exponentially in his walk. I said "yes" to a new position within InterVarsity at TCNJ and have learned and grown tremendously from it so far. I met and became engaged to the man that I've decided to spend the rest of my life with, a man that God crafted as more perfect for me than I could ever even dream up myself.
In that moment, I was celebrating freedom and new life, friendship and love. I was celebrating how God really does the miraculous, how He holds friendships together over time and distance, how He can take the most stubborn and broken woman and make her ready to be someone's wife.
My heart at the end of 2014 was full of sweet bliss. God can do amazing things, more than we'll ever ask for or imagine.
And I am excited for what God has in store for 2015. I'm getting married this year!!! (Those are words that I still can't believe I'm writing.)
So here's to 2014. You were good to us. But, 2015, we welcome you with open arms and an eager expectation for what's to come.
Life is that moment was good.
The past month was a whirlwind of activity and my life as I knew it was also forever changed. The man of my dreams (and my very best friend) asked me to marry him. My cousin, who was raised almost like a big sister to me, had her first baby and I got to hold precious little Avery in my arms as we welcomed her into the world. We had THREE(!) Christmases due to two families now and tiny Avery being born on Christmas Day. We watched as handfuls of friends also got engaged and we celebrated the anticipation of our new lives right alongside of them. I traveled multiple times between a staff training, half of Christmas week at my soon-to-be in-laws, and a vacation to celebrate the New Year in Delaware.
To ring in 2015, eight of us Mary Washington InterVarsity friends and two of our now fiancés decided to rent a house by the beach. In those four days of cooking and cleaning, laughing and dancing, playing Settlers and other games, watching movies, talking, having group manuscript bible studies, chopping wood and making fires, I was reminded that this group would always feel like family to me.
After a year of not seeing these sweet college friends and after a lifetime of believing the lies that I would never be "good enough" for marriage, there was a part of me that still couldn't believe this was my life--in real time--as I stood in that living room on New Year's Eve. As the ball dropped and I kissed my fiancé and cheers-ed my friends and blew my noisemaker as obnoxiously as possible, I was celebrating more than a new date. I was celebrating the culmination of a really great year.
2014, you were a good. I saw my dad come to know Jesus in a real way and grow exponentially in his walk. I said "yes" to a new position within InterVarsity at TCNJ and have learned and grown tremendously from it so far. I met and became engaged to the man that I've decided to spend the rest of my life with, a man that God crafted as more perfect for me than I could ever even dream up myself.
In that moment, I was celebrating freedom and new life, friendship and love. I was celebrating how God really does the miraculous, how He holds friendships together over time and distance, how He can take the most stubborn and broken woman and make her ready to be someone's wife.
My heart at the end of 2014 was full of sweet bliss. God can do amazing things, more than we'll ever ask for or imagine.
And I am excited for what God has in store for 2015. I'm getting married this year!!! (Those are words that I still can't believe I'm writing.)
So here's to 2014. You were good to us. But, 2015, we welcome you with open arms and an eager expectation for what's to come.
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