house

We have officially been in our new place of dwelling for 5 glorious days. Most of the week has been spent unpacking and trying to figure out how to arrange the living room and dining room (they are both one enormous room) We even considered making it one huge music room, considering our lack of furniture coupled with our abundance of amps and guitars. I cooked us our first meal in our new house last night, which was spaghetti squash and spinach pasta with my bacon sauce. To my extreme delight, John loved the spaghetti squash even more than the pasta and even asked me why I put parmasean cheese on his (butter and cheese were my sneaky ploy to convince him that spaghetti squash is truly amazing) It was a plan that backfired but ended beautifully, because now there is another food to add to the grocery list that my husband actually loves.

We have made it through some intense times for 56 days of marriage, but I can say that I thoroughly delight in my husband. He is wonderful and sweet and kind, and I don't even care anymore that he is well on the way to growing his first marital beard. As long as he shaves the "neck beard" that accompanies the growth of a real beard we are golden. I think the thing about beards that creeps me out, is that I've always wondered how many leftover meals are really hiding in those things. But John has thoroughly educated me on proper beard maintenance, which respectively includes shampooing the beard on frequent occasions.

Last but not least, I must add that it is a liberating experience being able to run around the house in only your underwear. This is the first time that I have been able to do that in years! I could have gotten away with it living with my mom in the months of wedding preparation in Ohio, but it was so freaking cold I barely ever took my coat off! Before that, I was always living with a bunch of people that would have told me to put my clothes back on, BUT not so with your husband. Husbands not only allow cooking in your underwear but they highly encourage it. So the combination of 100 degree Texas heat and living with a man, my "wear underwear all the time dreams" have come true indeed. Thank you Lord!

Amanda's Creations

 

As I was taking some time this morning to sort through about 12,000 pictures from the last several years, I stumbled upon a few of my very favorite on this particular day. My incredible and dear friend Amanda (the artist formerly known as Mandy) wanted to bless me with an epic birthday present on a low budget 3 years ago while we were both living in Ft. Mill, South Carolina. It is true folks, some of the most valuable gifts in life can only be found in a pair of sharp scissors, popsicle sticks and construction paper. And glitter. Out of all of the things I received for my 27th birthday, nothing in my mind remains more memorable. As I was flipping through these gems, I had visions of an Etsy shop being birthed. The possibilities are quite endless. So until that day arrives, kick back and enjoy the show.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Father's Day

 

 

I have to admit that for the longest time I avoided Fathers Day like the plague. To me it was a painful, yearly reminder of what I once had, but no longer did. It was once a day that had brought great joy in to my life. Up until a few years ago I was angry on Father's Day. Angry about all of life that was stolen from my dad, angry about the way that it was stolen from him. Angry about all that he has missed out on, and angry about the fact that life would have been so different if he had been around. So much would be different. So much would have changed. Where would my sister and I be right now if life had "just worked out"?

I have good memories of the short 17 years I shared with my dad. He was a sleek business man that had Italian suits tailored just perfectly. He had a loving, protective heart and extremely particular taste in EVERYTHING. He loved to sell houses, and even more loved to take us out and rollerskate every Saturday away. He had hand crafted Italian Cologne and a short temper. He told me once when I was 12 that if any man ever mistreated me that he would find an assault rifle and finish them off. I know he meant it. He never missed one single one of my gymnastics meets, and I know that he thoroughly supported my Olympic goals.

Looking back on the times when my dad was very sick, I can now see why he did some of the things that he did. I can remember a day when I was 16, and we were over at my grandparents house visiting him like we did every weekend where he had unusual requests. It wasn't a mystery to my mind that he was dying. In fact, I had been well aware since pretty much the very beginning what was going on. Everyone in my family was trying to protect my sister and I from the "real truth" but I had already contacted the American Cancer Society and gotten the real truth over the phone and through massive packets in the mail. I knew. He knew. I'm pretty sure he knew that I knew. So he started asking my sister and I to dance with him in the living room certain Sunday afternoons. I remember him putting in an Allison Krauss Greatest Hits album, or at least I'm pretty sure that's what it was. He would dance with us for about as long as he could stand to be up without getting a raging headache. I never fully understood my father's act until recently- and will probably not fully understand this until I am a parent.

But my absolute favorite memory of my father is a bittersweet one. It was the best and worst day of my teenage life if that is possible. My dad had been recovering from a brain tumor the following year. He had actually just returned to work, and everything was looking great. The doctor's had all said that the likelihood of anything recurring was very low, and gave him high hopes and a great prognosis. I had just practically skipped home from school about 2 weeks in to my freshman year of high school. My dad had just bought us 2 tickets to the 1996 Olympic Gymnastics Tour in Cincinnati, OH. I had never been more excited about going to anything in my life. As I ran through the door to get ready to go, I received a call from my mom saying that she had just gotten a call from the hospital, saying that my dad was in a conference with some family and doctors about the MRI's they had just received from the hospital. I was crushed. My mom said that my dad was forcefully trying to get out of the meeting with his surgeon and doctors about his potential failing health, telling them "I have a date with my daughter I cannot miss." While the doctors and family said that they didn't believe it was safe for him to drive, and were trying to even take his car from him, he dismissed all of their urgent requests (for the weekend anyway) and stormed out of the hospital and picked me up and took me away to Cincinnati. I know now how sick he must have been, but pretended to be well. We had a weekend that was epic and wonderful and scary and risky. I am so thankful that my dad decided not to listen to reason that weekend. He needed that time as a father, and I needed it as a daughter.

I had 17 years with an amazing father which in my book far outweighs a lifetime with a mediocre one. God gives us exactly what we need and when we need it, even when we don't agree on times and circumstances that accompany our lives sometimes. I could fill a book with the love and memories I have as daughter, both loved by my own dad and most importantly loved by God.

This is my first father's day as a wife. We have been married for a little over a month and a half and don't have kids yet. But when I look in to my husbands eyes, that same flame that burned so brightly in my own fathers eyes is every bit as present in my husband. The words "The son of man came to seek and save that which was lost" (I forget which verse that is) keep going through my head this morning. Because that is what is at work in our lives. God brings healing in to the places of our hearts where we were wounded most. It is a beautiful thing to receive healing by beholding in your own husband's eyes the very thing that was taken away, but is yet ever so present once again. It is beautiful.

Oh praise the maker, we officially have a place to dwell in! We are thankful, and (I) had a celebratory margarita (or 2) and John had some queso. I think I was actually so celebratory and thankful that I overdid it a little bit on the margarita and forgot that I hadn't eaten much during the day. By the end of the meal, I was loudly explaining to my husband "I know that I act like I don't like cheese dip but OH I DO! I just have talked myself in to not liking it, but I used to eat BIG bowls of it in high school all the time!" I proved this to him by occasionally dunking my taco chicken chunks in to the little remaining queso that he had not already conquered. I will admit that it is the truth- when I am not living in denial I will be the first one to admit that I used to chop up large bricks of Velveeta topped with picante salsa and then nuke it for 1:30 and finish that puppy off with a bag of tostitos.

(It is the morning and I no longer like cheese dip)

So the plan is that tomorrow morning we will go meet the Landlord and sign our lease and all of that good stuff, and then hopefully start moving by the beginning of the week. The most amazing thing about this new place is that we stumbled upon it by accident, while looking at the other side of the duplex. Yes, that's right folks. After all of the searching here and there and everywhere, we "accidentally" stumbled upon this place. Not only is it exactly what we needed (and had stopped looking for) but it is way closer to downtown, in a much better neighborhood, and $100 less than what we would have been paying at the Doris house. Not to mention that it won't cost nearly as much to cool the place, since it is smaller.

So today there is fresh grace upon me to begin the packing process once again. It took awhile after moving twice in 2 days to even be able to get back in to that state of mind, but BOOM SAUCE it is on!

Pictures soon to follow!

thankfulness on a thursday

Once upon a mid-summer's eve Brother John was off to worship practice to strum his chord for the Lord.

Brother John's ravished bride Therese requested to be dropped off at Victoria's Secret instead of attending worship practice.

Brother John did not argue with this request.

The ravished bride had not had her hand in the "Sale Panties Bin" for more than 2 minutes, when Brother John's ringtone went chiming through her purse.




Brother John had called Sister Therese with such swiftness that the first picture that flew in to her head was this:

Sister Therese was filled with joy when the words that came out Brother John's mouth were something like this:

Sister Therese was so elated that she decided to celebrate.

And celebrate some more.

The end of the story goes something like this.

Love the one you're with

I have been trying to make it a point to continue this blog as of late, with the encouragement of my husband. He says that I should keep record of our early on marital experiences and learning curves, along with the much needed revelation that seems to come pouring in soon afterward. If we are willing to listen and humble ourselves, that is. It is crazy how life is more about our change of perspective than our change of circumstances.

I experienced this after a particularly terrible Monday of unfruitful house hunting that ended with me in tears, and a husband that had no idea what to do or how to handle his emotionally exhausted wife. What to do, what to do! When I hit walls, my natural instinct is to shut down and not talk, even though it is obvious that I am clearly not okay. (This is not a good habit to carry by the way, and particularly not a good one to continue to carry in to your new marriage)

To make a long story short, I woke up the next morning and it had been MUCH apparent that people had been praying for us. There was a light yoke that had not previously existed in the following week. I started to realize that my frustration with the situation was quickly going to cause division between my husband and myself if I didn't calm my ass down! It was starting to sink in that life is going to be FULL of trying situations where I was going to be constantly faced with the decision to act in love, or to react in frustration (that will quickly turn in to anger if I am not careful). I decided to put the situation back in to God's hands, and have joy in the moment and enjoy the husband that God had so graciously put in my life. And since that moment, we have had FUN. We have been so enjoying each other, and just making the most of the situation. So my advice when you are going through things you have no control over? Do everything you know you can do, and when it hits the point where you have no control, trust the Lord and just love the one you're with!