My Pregnancy Is...

...coming to a slow close. I am waking up with the resolve not to just wait, but to live and to enjoy what is left of this season. This season of resting in the ever-presence of an unborn, but beautifully and uniquely created baby inside of me. Not wishing her before her time, but trusting in the One Who holds the whole measure of time in His hand. Beginning and end. Beginning and end. Looking at a man who I have loved more and more everyday for the last seven years and hardly fathoming that in a matter of days or even weeks, there will awaken in him a capacity I never knew before. I will love him then, even more. I still move forward with some trepidation, but less. I see the women who have borne the same glorious wonder these last nine-and-some-change months rejoice as their little ones enter the world and find myself caught in the wake of both envy and joy. She will come in His time, I say to myself, again and again. And if I have ever known Him to be anything, it is timely. So I can trust in that. And I can enjoy the wait. Because it is not just waiting, it is living and seeing and breathing and being thankful for the 279 days, as of today, or the 280 tomorrow, or as many after that she continues to grow... that my body has been a haven for life. A life I will hold, very soon, in my open and waiting arms.

Every Last Bit

I am weepy, today. But thankfully, from a good place. Really, a beautiful place... where the promises of God suddenly flood into your heart and seem only to be able to escape from you in the kind of tears that blur your vision until they pour down your cheeks.

I wish I could tell you everything, but I don't really know how. Except that the realization, again, of who God is and has been in my life - particularly over the last few days - has been such a needed experience. Oh, I am independent. I am stubborn. And I have, for most of my life, believed that by doing things myself - on my own - they will not only a) get done but also, b) get done well. And then when they don't, I feel like a failure. 

But in that failure, if I let it be truly a point of learning and not wallowing, I can often see God again. I can known my need. And I can remember again that I AM NOT PERFECT. EVERYTHING IS NOT PERFECT. But it is all majesty, if we let us change our perspective.

So much of my life is dominated by fear and anxiety, and so few people really know that. Probably because I like to pretend it isn't the case. But there have been so many times over this past year, that, with the refining that has come with the changes going on inside of me, I haven't been able to pretend. I've had to be honest. And that honesty pushes me, fortunately, towards God and my need for Him. And anything I am capable of doing... being... knowing... it is BECAUSE of Him.

What have I to fear?

Which of my anxieties can He not take?

I can trust.

And in trusting, let go - more and more, every day.

We learn things, sometimes, as if we have never learned them before. I, instead, think of it as stages of learning the same thing. That as life progresses, our need to apply and understand simple truths will look different in all of those circumstances. And for me, this lesson of both opening myself up to the Grace of God and learning grace for myself has never been more profound than right now. Nor, was it more profound than my season of unemployment and self-discovery after finishing my masters. Or even before that, spending a half a year apart from a man I loved with all of my heart, not knowing exactly what our future held but hoping for God's best.

And now, as we draw closer to this newest season... I see it more clearly. Even if I can't understand it fully, I know that God is in the middle of every last bit of it.

Finding Community

...and needing your prayer.

It has now been a little over two years since we left our previous church and the base, there, that was our Nearly/Newlyweds class. By that time in our relationship, Cliff and I had been attending TPC for five years and had been in a College Sunday School class together and then after getting engaged, joined the group that would become for us a great foundation for our marriage and some great friendships, today - friends who've also long-since left TPC but remain in our lives in varied ways.

In the two years since we left, we have found a great home at our new church. Well, at least a home for Sundays (and the occasional Saturday evening). We love the teaching, the heart for global involvement, and the focus of the church. I have been involved in some Women's Bible Studies over the past three "semesters" and we went on a mission trip together with FBC to Germany our first summer with the church. But still, we struggle.

And it's the struggle of finding community together. We haven't been in a common-group setting since our days at TPC, despite having led or participated in men's and women's groups separately over the last couple of years. We have loved everything about our time there so far, but it has taken a lot of work and disappointment to get into a tighter, smaller community with the church as a whole. Groups not working out because of our schedule, because of co-workers in the make-up, because of well, because of a lot of things. Every time a group was presented to us, the door was shut before we'd even made it to the first meeting. 

Just recently, we thought that had finally all come to an end. It was a long-shot, applying for a group - a two year marriage intensive commitment - for which we technically didn't qualify because we had just eclipsed the range of years married and also the childless demographic they were looking for, but we thought - why not? Why not try? And so we did, and we were accepted, and had a good time meeting with the handful of other couples who would be joining us as well as our leaders at a recent informational meeting. While I still couldn't quite shake the feeling of being a teensy bit different than all of the other couples in the group, we felt a sense that it wouldn't have happened - we wouldn't have been accepted - we wouldn't have even been in that room were it not supposed to happen. We looked forward to our first real get-together this Sunday evening.

And then we missed a call last night from our leader which was returned this morning, and as strange as this sounds, it was like I knew. I just knew. As much as the first feelings that washed over me were disappointment and offense, there was also immediate peace that no matter what, we had to trust. A peace that lingered until even now when Cliff just called to let me know that, yes, they had reconsidered our participation because of how much our having a baby within a month of the group starting would affect its dynamic. 

So here Cliff and I sit, now no longer connected by the telephone "lines" where neither of us really knew what to say or what to do next or really even how to exactly comfort the other - and processing what this means. Processing the feelings of confusion, of disappointment, and uncertainty. I appreciate the resources the leader offered to Cliff in wrapping up their phone call and cannot blame them at all for doing what they felt was best for the larger group. But where does that leave us? We got the proverbial invitation in the mail, had already RSVP'ed yes, only to hear from the hosts that our coming was no longer entirely welcome.

Part of me wonders why the door even opened in the first place.

Part of me hopes it just means there is something else.

Part of me trusts that eventually, we'll get there.

But right now I just keep thinking about how the prospect of settling into a group like that while still facing that unknown transitioning of Virginia's coming, gave us an excitement - a freshness of learning and study and relationships - that is now dashed. And as many other problems as there are in the world, this one hits just close enough to home that we could use your prayers.

Three Quarters and Counting...

Thirty weeks.

3-0.

210 days.

Meaning we have, presumably, 10 weeks left. 70 days. 

And tomorrow? 9 weeks and 6 days. That's single digit weeks.

How unbelievable and yet wildly believable all at the same time.

I don't remember much of what it was like to have a mind not geared towards the bundle of energy and life growing inside of me. I hope I don't forget, once she's here, how precious this time was - despite sickness, aches and pains, and more. I have truly, truly enjoyed being pregnant. I remember, even when I was sick, wanting to never seem as though my feelings were a complaint because I was just grateful to be carrying her. And now, as she is growing more and more and my bones and muscles (predominately in my back) are feeling the brunt of that growth, it is very much the same.

Yes, I have been tired.

Yes, I have been sick.

Yes, I have been emotional (to a new degree).

Yes, I have been sore.

Yes, I have stretch marks.

BUT.

I have also been... 

complimented beyond comprehension.

loved so well.

taken care of like crazy.

feeling the steadily increasing movement of a new life.

awed by every milestone, every discovery, every everything.

growing in a deep respect for my body.

drawn closer to the heart of God.

And to that same token, I'm praying to prepare my heart now to not let what will happen ten weeks - or however many weeks it ends up being - from now be a list of woes. Because nothing about this warrants pity - sympathy and empathy, yes please, I'll take your care for me any day of the week - but also your celebration with us of all the GOOD there is in this being - both now and when she arrives.

Logistically, it's all coming together. The hospital registration, every two week OB appointments, upcoming childbirth classes. The furniture delivering, building, and setting up - along with curtain and rug hunting. The early preparations for accessorizing the nursery - crafts, prints, books, and more. The purchasing of non-registry items like cloth diapers and carriers and diaper bags. The showers happening or preparing to happen in the coming week. Even the non-baby related things around the house and in our personal-life and my work-life are getting knocked off lists.

All those things undoubtedly matter to me, but what matters more is the state of my inner life and our marriage life and what that's going to mean for our family life... and I hope that every day of these next ten weeks that becomes truer and truer of what consumes my thoughts and my prayers and my hopes. To that end, I don't think we'd mind your prayers for us along the way :)

My Pregnancy Is...

Getting home with the chair you've dreamed about sitting in for hours with your baby girl. Swivel, glide, recline. Only to sit down in it for the first time later that night, perplexed that there is no recliner bar. I look around frantically, he stands frozen. I reach for the foot-piece and see it closely bound to the body of the chair. "This isn't right" I say. "It's supposed to recline?" he says. And as the emphatic "Yes!" comes out of my mouth, the tears explode out of my eyes and I rush off to find the order receipt. Maybe I messed this up. Maybe they messed this up. Everything is messed up. He reminds me, patiently and quietly, that it'll all be fine; I tell him I want it to all be fine now. Sitting in a pile of receipts that are not the one, I feel helpless and disappointed and everything in between. 

We take one last visit to the nursery to look it over... on top, on the sides, on the back, and finally - finally - he lifts its heavy frame to inspect the bottom. There, in all its glory, are the hinges by which a chair such as this would recline. Oh, but how?! So he sits, glides a bit, reaches around, and finally reaches to the side of the cushion and there it is - a six inch recliner bar tucked comfortably within arm's reach for ease of use. He promptly gets up; I sit. And he begins supplying me with books to read outloud to Virginia, calming away the rush of dread and worry over something so trivial and yet so very important to me. In just a moment, everything was better. We really did buy the best chair.

Days Go By

These are randoms, but good randoms, just things accumulated over the last handful of days.

Their New Normal, Too

I'm so grateful for friends who let me be exactly who I am right now. A woman who is not just an expectant mother with a protruding abdomen on the surface, but a woman who is thinking and processing so much as life is changing. And they're letting me change and loving me through it. And buying gifties and planning showers and reaching for my belly. In the stretches of days when I am home alone or just hanging with Cliff in the evenings, I'm grateful for the every couple of weeks get-togethers as they may be, the dinners and the hugs and the laughter. For somehow without having really done this before, opening themselves up to our new normal as a part of their own, whether they've had kids or not or whether that's the last thing on their own minds. They haven't run away and I should thank them more often for that - it means the world to me.

Yes, I Have Mom-Brain

As much as I didn't think I'd be that person, I am. Every other Instagram, every other Facebook status update, every other everything = baby. But when I take inventory of my days, the subsist of things like grocery shopping, meal prepping, bank running, lunch grabbing, photo taking, image editing, blog writing, gallery uploading, and that's the humdrum stuff - well - the stuff that I've always been doing. And I don't have the baby wearing, breast feeding, diaper changing, cry calming action going on yet so everything is about preparation... about making space in my home and in my mind and in my heart for a life that will be dependent on us as we're dependent upon each other and the Lord to make this all work. So yeah, while I'm doing a lot of normal things I always do, I'm thinking a whole lot more through all of that about topics which are entirely mommified... cloth diapers, blackout curtains, nursery furniture, baby bedding, craft decorations and more.

I'm a WorkerBee

Speaking of normal things, work is busy right now. Unbelievably good busy and it feels like it came out of nowhere. Isn't that funny how that happens? One day you're in the middle of a few slow months where it just so happens to be okay because of a string of trips... and then even with the weekends full, my weekdays are busier than ever. This past weekend alone was assisting with two weddings and had five sessions scheduled, which, as fortune would have it (as I was really quite over scheduled upon review) two sessions cancelled and I only had three. But a busy weekend makes for an even busier week as all of the follow-up stuff is really what takes time. And it's looking like these next two months are going to be just about the same. And though I'm feeling good and recovering well, I get worn out so much easier these days, and I am without a doubt glad to be giving myself a margin of about five and a half weeks from my last session to my due date - knowing Virginia could come at any time.

What a Man, What a Man, What a Man, What a Mighty Good Man

Man oh man, is Clifford the bomb dot com. I'm serious. I can't imagine how much I will grow to love him and adore him and respect him more every day Virginia is here if, in the days leading up to her arrival, I am finding myself doing the same. The way he asks me to hug him from behind so he can feel my stomach on his back and calls them "Daddy hugs"... the way he talks to my belly... the way he goes out of his way to make sure I am feeling cared for. How he doesn't just tolerate but protects my fragility in moments of complete emotional and physical exhaustion - which given my schedule last weekend - can be frequent. And then through all of that he is so present and attentive to our home and the projects that need to be done, doing them for his sake and mine and making me thank God everyday that I married someone with a crazy amount of work-ethic and problem-solving skills. It's amazing how much more of a companion he has become and he has always been one - I just never knew it could be this much more and steadily so.

My Pregnancy Is...

Realizing that no matter how hard I try, both morning and night, to prevent them, I have stretch marks. So instead of letting myself look at them with anything but pride, I thank myself for every one as they look back at me from the mirror - reminding me you are stretching and growing and changing like the home in which you live. And though there are few, and though I will continue taking care of my body the best I know how, this is its journey... my journey. The one that can and will be different than every other mother and yet somehow the same. The one that has little place for vanity, and so - I will embrace it all.

He Makes it So Much Better

My mind has a way of taking off in directions not so kind to my heart. I sat there, sulking, as it occurred to me the feelings coursing through my body. I'm being replaced. It's the same old story. You're just not enough. So that's why my friends go looking for other friends and the barbecue chicken pizza turns out to be a disaster. Not because they are completely entitled to an endless stream of friends that don't include me. Or because the store sold me a two-weeks-out-of-date pizza crust. It's all my fault. It's all your fault. You're just not enough. Forget the fact that we'd had a relaxing post-work chat over coffee at Starbucks, or the fact that I'd spent my whole working day in the company of a friend I hardly ever get to see, or that I had a great session of prenatal yoga ahead of me. You're just not enough and will never be.

By the time I'd finished making the unfortunate discovery of the two-week-old pizza crust, I went straight to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet. And I cried. Then I got up, and hurriedly declared I was going to do my yoga. He was bewildered. Only recently clued into my no-one-likes-me feelings ruminating in the dark places of my mind, he was piecing it all together.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." *sniffle, then jam the remote trying to get the yoga video on and going, hopefully propelling me into some portal of total security and serenity*

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talking about the friend thing didn't make it any better, so no." *SOB*

"Is it just that or..."

"IT'S EVERYTHING!" *SOBBING ensues and increases to the point of a total breakdown*

Over my meltdown, I barely hear him attempting to clean up the disastrous pizza mess, it all smelling to high heaven like the worst pizza you've ever tasted in your life. I can make out the small creak of the dishwasher door, the silence as he considers what task could possibly make this all okay and soon he's in the doorway. He comes to me, in my orange seat that I've balled up into after the realization that yoga won't fix this, and he kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me.

"Let's just lay down and let me hold you. We don't have to talk. That's just a better place to cry, okay?"

And so we made our way to the bedroom, and the sobbing, while still very present, lessened. I could feel my thoughts making themselves aright, slowly making their connections with the feelings scratching at the walls of my heart.

"It's just the three of us now - that's what matters most."

*sniffle sniffle sniffle*

"You are the best wife ever."

*sniffle sniffle*

"...and I'm just surprised this is the first time something like this has happened since you've been pregnant - at least like this. I thought surely by now this would have been happened many times."

*sniffly laughter ensues*

He makes it so much better.

So Much More

It's a Sunday morning. I'm alone. Settled on the chaise lounge with a pillow and the laptop, looking out over our frontyard through half-opened blinds. It's raining - steadily - and expected to do so throughout the day. I'm holding out hope there'll be some good lightning and thunder thrown in. I need comfort.  

Not necessarily because Cliff is gone this weekend (rafting with the guys) or because I am, in fact, by myself. But because I've just got that ickyness that comes from not having my heart and mind in the right places. That is, using what's going on around me as a barometer for how I should be feeling about myself. So, maybe here in a few I'll fix myself a cup of coffee and trade the laptop for a book, or my bible, or my journal. Just something besides this hunk of metal which somehow sends me into portals of self-loathing when I least expect it.

Oh, there was the thunder. Ah, my soul feels better already.

We all just want to matter. To succeed. To be happy. And sometimes, when we aren't feeling or doing those things and then we see what seems to be EVERYBODY ELSE doing so, it feels like some conspiracy. Like everyone's out to be awesome so you aren't. Or whatever. I don't know. And then I sit here and laugh because someone out there is thinking the very same thing when they throw me into the pile of social media "friends" who seem to have everything they want. And it's true, while I may not have all I want, I certainly have all I need and MORE. So much more.

And right now, I matter and am succeeding and am happy if only because the most important things in my life - my faith and my family - are healthy. That I've got a home to not just live in but enjoy, immensely - pining for the comfort of my lovely bed and green-filled views when I'm not here. A home I happen to share with the kind of man who leaves post-its with sweet messages tucked away in random places throughout the house for me to find in his absence. Who, in every way, is the kind of man I can count on to pull me through - and who is an adoring dadda already to Lil' Turkey. Oh, and Lil' Turkey. I've been so aware these last couple of days of his or her presence - throughout the day - in dreams - in all my thoughts. I've had dreams about the baby these last two nights straight and though one was entirely bizarre, the other was so real and left me half panicked (for preparation, not for fear) and half disappointed to not have it be true in that moment.

So what if my own photography business is a little slow (though by appearances and schedule, I'm as busy as ever - just playing a supporting role to photographer friends) or my social life is a little dim - if that's all it is... if that's all I have to even dream of complaining about... what is my deal? There is so much more and everything has its season and right now, mine might just be this way to give way to the other things that need a little attention right now.

Now about that. I think right about now is a good time to trade out the computer for my coffee and bible, don't you think?

My Pregnancy Is...

One second: Standing in front of the mirror admiring the sheen of my increasingly long hair. Turning my attention from my face to my skin and thinking to myself, "I think I'm starting to see the glow!"

About sixty seconds later: Standing in front of the mirror again, this time lamenting that coffee is not, unfortunately, as delicious coming up as it is going down. I wonder aloud, "now about that glow..."

Weekend Report: 8/52

It's quite the rarity that in this entire month, we will spend every weekend at home. In fact, originally, we weren't supposed to be here this past weekend. But a forgotten commitment and a sick bunch in Cleveland, and we were staying put.

I'll be honest, as much as it's nice to visit family - I love being home.

I love waking up on Saturdays to earn myself some bonus points for taking a class at the gym, before 10 o'clock, no less.

I love having time to share a pot of coffee with Cliff, this weekend french press, and the last of the first bag of Ethiopian beans my mom brought back from her mission trip last fall.

I love being able to be there for a friend. Really be there, with no regard to plans or schedules because this is a weekend free of them.

I love church, and following through a study without interruption.

I love brunch at the Daily Dish. If you live in Franklin and haven't been, go next Sunday. For real.

I love that Cliff makes his free time available to the serving his county, and that this weekend, he got to fight and put out a half-acre brush fire.

I love getting so much done on our projects list, we start to make up things. Or, at least, remember that our cars haven't been detailed or properly washed in eons and now might be a good time to do that.

 

I just love having time. Time to see things like the sunset reflected on the hood of your freshly-washed car - such a normal and mundane thing, really - and yet to wonder and find beauty in it.

 

It's probably weird, but I've been thinking about that last picture a lot. About how much it reminds me of what marriage can be. An upside down, yet perfect reflection of the world aright - of beauty as it was intended to be - somehow showing on the surface of a thing that can be so mechanical. But apart from its mechanics, it is a canvas just the same.

I pray, for us and for every married couple - just as every weekend or week day unfolds, that in all of the normalcy - all of the drudgery - all of the mundane - that we see that God is making something beautiful out of us. Because the truth is, He is, no matter whether we see it or not.

The Weekend Report: 7/52

I married a man who has an obsession with projects.

And thankfully, not just starting them, but finishing them as well. That's got to be a great indicator of character, right?

So give him two days of glorious weather, a few reasons to get his hands dirty, and he'll have us working our fannies off to, shall we say, git 'er done.

On the docket this weekend? Desk building (and prepping the yard for Spring).

Desk Building

Oh the chronicles of what is henceforth referred to as "The Desk." As you could gather from any post written pretty much from November to December, we have been in the process of turning our bonus space - a once garage, now three rooms - Utility, Laundry/Pantry, and Den - into legitimate spaces. From the land of mauve and purple and paneling, bad carpet and linoleum, and bad, bad lighting... we've revived it. Literally brought it back from the dead. From the day we closed, we've repainted, put up molding, patched ceilings, put in new lighting (and lighting in general, in one of the rooms), and tiled. A couple of weeks ago we took a road trip to IKEA and have recently finished outfitting the most wonderful displays of particle-board shelving and cabinetry known to man.

above the washer & dryer

where once stood metal brackets w/ open wood shelves

don't even get me started on this... it's my lifelong dream

and so beautiful, even, at night w/ the lighting we installed

So enter, The Desk. For months and months we've been planning this from start to finish and all along was the character known as Bedford.

Oh Bedford, you rascal.

I have a love affair with Pottery Barn, and had been saving and scheming forever to have this desk. I'd done the measuring, working, etc. to have it and after spending 30 minutes in the store one day, walked out and it was all mine. I brought it home in boxes, took one last measurement before unpacking, and subsequently sat on the floor near the point of tears because IT WOULDN'T FIT. How had this happened?

In walks our little moment of DIY ingenuity. What if we bought similar cabinet pieces (which we found both pretty and less expensive options at JCPenney) and built our own desktop. Our own BEAUTIFUL desktop that we'd stain the color of the floors we'd just had refinished. Du-nu-nu-nuuuuuh (phonetically, I think that's how a trumpet sound is spelled).

So this is what Saturday looked like:

Supplies.

Refreshments.

Plywood layer.

Oak board layer.

STAIN!!

And Sunday:

The Desk.

This was the part where we had let it sit and become prettier with time, another coat of stain, two coats of polyurethane (the first of which it had last night). So out came the lawnmower, giant trash bags, pruning shears, and shovels and we had ourselves a grand ol' time cutting and bagging the Water Oak tree leaves which fell in January, chopping back our dwarf crape myrtles, ridding other bushes and trees of their "suckers".

I think final count on the load we took to the dump was 13 bags, too many landscaping rocks our previous owners had left that we've been dying to get rid of since, a mess-load of limbs, suckers, and pruning leftovers, and our measly attempt at shoveling the wood chips left from the six stump-grindings that have taken place in our yard since January (we're now hiring someone to take care of that).

Off to the dump.

It feels good to get these sorts of things done, but like Cliff said last night, it makes the weekends go by all-too-fast. 

But honestly, we need these kinds of weekends. Not just for our home, but for our marriage. I love sharing that sense of accomplishment together, though everything in me is screaming to not be caked in the old, cruddy leaf dust flying at me from the back of the lawnmower. I love that through project-weekends like this, we become intimated not just with the precious things we are care-takers of - like our land, and all of its imperfections - but with each other, as well.

I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Plus, there's usually a Sonic drink in the deal, somewhere :)

Sitting in the Quiet

I am sitting in the quiet of our home, drinking a freshly pressed cup of coffee from Ethiopia (thanks Mom), brimming with the kind of emotions that feel like they need to be shared. Not necessarily for your benefit or for mine, but because I value those of you who read this - who have been reading this - and who will delight and labor with us in your own ways as we have and continue to journey in our marriage.

I am so, so blessed. And I think, before Italy, I had lost sight of that. I took things for granted in a way I don't want to again for a very, very long time - if ever. You see, I have this man in my life who makes the world spin for me in a way that never seemed possible - and we serve a God who makes it so. And both had lost their place of priority... not in the name of anything but my own Self. What other people think of me, whether people like my photography, what makes me happy and a complete and total preoccupation with my reflection in the mirror - figuratively speaking.

And now as we venture into a new season of removing the carefully determined obstacles we had set in place to hold off creating a family, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with a wave of freedom, mingled with trepidation, and utter joy. If there was, at any point, a greater moment for me to lose Self - willingly and in the way that we were meant to in journeying towards Christ - it will be in the nearing future and I welcome it wholeheartedly.

And I can't imagine a more wonderful Guide and companion with which to do so.

When Life Hands You Dying Trees

You just (plan to) make wood chips.

Yep. Thanks to the electric company topping out our trees at the expense of their powerlines a year ago when we first moved in, we are now experiencing fast-moving tree death. We had a local tree guy come by and assess the damage and found that some of these were rotten up to 40% of the way through the trunk. Not cool, not cool.

And so, because trees aren't supposed to be topped out when pruned for power purposes, MTE will be taking care of the expense of cutting them down, grinding out the stumps, and planting four new trees where there once stood three silver maples and a magnolia. You can bet the new trees won't get that kind of height.

I hate losing these, but in the end, this is the best way they could go... that's for sure.

At this old guy (our personal favorite) is alive and kicking, as are the other two silver maples in the back yard (well, one's health is debatable but we're holding out hope.)

Our House: One Year and Counting...

What it was.

How we celebrated.

What we did.

We got snow.

What we did later.

How we survived the floods.

And that's the short of it.

It's hard to believe that yesterday was one year to the date of closing.

Now here we are on the first of October, reminiscing and dreaming and hoping. There are thing we thought would be that aren't... yet. And yet there's so much that is that we would never have imagined... never dreamed in our dreamiest dreams would have been.

Our walls might still be bare (though painted and molded EXACTLY how we want them to be!)
Our furniture still a collection of hand-me-downs.
Our yard still recovering from its grading and draining and flooding and scorching.

But boy. This is home.

And I love it now more than I loved it a year ago when it was fresh and new and I had visions of grandeur dancing in my head. Because, truthfully, I'm learning that what's most important is the grandeur in our heads... how we think about what we have, who we are, what we do, and what our prospects are for the future.

As much as I can try to play tug of war with my mind "I want what they have - I love what we have, I want what I wanted to have - I love what we have"... my appreciation for the blank slate and the time and the adventure that lies ahead (instead of being wrapped up in a pretty, home-decorating bow) grows everyday.

When He Goes

Since I've been home full-time with photography, now over six months, I've kept a fairly regular schedule. One of going to bed at a normal time and waking up around the same time as Cliff, in order to maybe fix breakfast, pack a lunch, and see him off to work around 7:15AM.

But I'll be honest and forthright.

Lately, I've been slacking.

Lately, I listen for the shower to come on, knowing that means he's just finished his morning bowl of cereal or oatmeal (something easy to make) and thus had his shave. Then I sleepily slink out of bed into the kitchen, put a main lunch and two snacks together, and either slink back into bed or start the coffee and find a comfy spot on or couch in front of the morning news. There I wait for him to get out of his shower, get ready, and then say goodbye for the day.

When he goes, I wish I had done it all differently.

And I've been thinking that a lot more, lately. Especially this week that my sleeping schedule has been so off from our trip that when it's time to go to bed, I can't. And so I stay up. And the past few mornings my eyes haven't opened until well past 9AM (so much for packing that lunch).

I'm seeing now that the morning is this window of opportunity. A lot like we made it one when we were first married in our 814 square foot apartment. We woke up together. Worked out together. Ate breakfast together. And maybe there were off days when I'd had a late night at Belmont and thus was granted a later morning. But regardless, we made the most of it in our busy days, knowing that our nights together were fewer as time went on.

I want those again.

And I want them the way our German friend Toby and his American wife Kelli, here in the US, talk about preserving the pleasure of a morning meal with family - the way his family and every family we met in Germany seem to do. Table settings, thoughtful preparation (even if it's just a bowl of cereal), and meaningful conversation - if only to discuss ones plans or hopes for the day.

So that when he goes, I know him better. I feel a part of his day. I was a part of his day.

Going Home

That feeling of returning home is usually a good one. It is a beautiful mixture of convenience, familiarity, and stability that is more than lacking when you're away. And especially so when you've uprooted yourself from even the most basic comforts of living. Me and my norms.

Air conditioning.
A bed and pillow.
Electricity.
Food that isn't dehydrated.

But that usually is what is sometimes so perplexing. Every trip is different. And more and more, every trip that strips you of superfluous things as necessities and brings everything to its base... makes coming home more difficult. How the mere thought of going home brings joy! And yet, those first few steps inside your darkened home after a week away floods you with a sense of displacement.

This should feel right.
And comfortable.
Familiar, even.

But it doesn't.

It feels temporal. Synthetic. Like a dollhouse with everything in its place because of the order I create and not that which is created for me.

For four days, the Grand Canyon was our home. We ate, drank, and slept on only what we could carry - wearing clothes for their function, not fashion - and measured the success of our days not just in the miles we trod but in the number of stars we observed through our tents as we fell asleep every night.

No amount of art on our walls or the size of the television we hope to have someday or the landscaping we want to do around our home could ever compare to the beauty that exists in places I have no hand in building... creating... decorating. Places like a giant canyon one mile deep with a river that runs, in some places, over 300 feet wide, at its bottom and miles and miles and miles of nooks and crannies for one to discover.

The expanse of that which we have seen, journeyed through, and settled in for even just four days has made my heart swell in such a way that these 1,600 or so square feet aren't quite big enough to contain it. Nor would 3,200 or 8,000, for that matter. None of it is enough and yet, in a way, it has to be. And that's the conundrum we live as co-adventurers whose hearts feel the tug of strings tied to the places we've been and yet so deeply wish to be rooted in the place that we are.

Time is of the...

Essence, they say, right?

Ugh.

Seems these days we have an apparent and total lack of it.

I just finished inputting nearly fifteen 3-hour long classes which Cliff must attend as a part of his WCRS training, in a span of about nine weeks. Nine weeks which also happen to include three weeks of travel (not consecutively) and about two weeks of some sort of guest (be it friend or family) in-town.

Thank goodness we got back in the habit of calendaring our life together.

No really, we do that. As much as I hated the idea of it initially (somewhere there's a free spirit in me), it really does build a basic construct for us upon which to lay out our hopes, expectations, plans, and such for the week (or multiples) ahead while not marrying ourselves to the rigor of an over-scheduled life.

In my own day-to-day, especially working from home, where every avenue blends together rather chaotically with no parameters - those avenues being the domestic and the business, I rely on my calendar to set a tone for what is to be accomplished - even if it's free-time to do nothing at all (which is rare). And Cliff is the same in his own work, scheduling his calls and meetings and additional crazy-busy-ness that is his job.

So why not a shared calendar, right? One that either of us can access at any time and know what the deal is. I know there are plenty of people light years ahead of us in this category - at once we were too, but then life gets so busy it gets in the way of even taking that time to make time.

Like I shared the other night in women's group, intention requires forethought - even if it's a vague idea of what you can, want, and need to do as individuals and as spouses (and eventually as a family!). For us, the calendar has been a useful tool for that.

Now if I could just get a phone that I could pull that information from...

That's What This is About

I was just on Stephanie's blog leaving a comment when I noticed our blog on her blogroll indicating our last post was two weeks ago. TWO WEEKS?! I just don't even understand how that can happen. I guess, in my mind, I'd been chronicling posts to share - things to talk about - life to ruminate over and it was all just happening in my head.

That's my problem most times, I think. It happens up there (knocks on noggin') far too often without ever making it into the sphere in which it might, I don't know, make someone's day, give someone a laugh, help someone to be encouraged. How does one strike out from that without bordering the line of turning a blog into a diary, I wonder?

Since blogging last, we went to the lake, Cliff turned twenty-seven, I ate three bowls of oatmeal, grocery shopped, went to the bank.... HAHA... fooled you. Well I mean, I did all those things, but I know that's not what you care to hear/know about. What is, however, is the question?

I've been talking to Cliff some about making this more of a niche blog. Problem is, we often don't consider ourselves niche people. There's not much we don't love to do, try, etc. There's not many places we don't love to go, see, etc. There's not a whole lot we couldn't find ourselves commentating on, though there are a few things nearer and dearer, shall we say.

So with that, I'm thinking about some things. And had planned to continue thinking on some things and then one day, before you knew it, WHAM this blog would be different. But I don't think it can work like that. Because it's not about the effect on some distant member of a supposed audience, as Stephanie's blog post reminded me keenly today, but what are we prompted to share and should that journey follow a closely laid path or meander through the thing that is life and seasons. All, of course, set within the context of two people adventuring through life together.

And I think ultimately, that's what this blog is about. It's about the two of us - Cliff and I - as a pair... a team. And we encounter, perservere through, and celebrate many wonderful things in our life together and THAT'S what this is about. Don't you think?

One Trip Down

And two more major ones, at least that we know of, to go. (If you haven't seen our Colorado photos, you can check them out here.)

The "at least that we know of" part is operative, considering our tendency to pack up and get the heck out of dodge randomly, every now and again. Having a home has made the equation a little different, and as much as I enjoy traveling, I rather like being at home as well. Even now, as we start laying the plans and groundwork for as something as simple as landscaping and planting next year... and as big as hopefully starting a family... I just have this feeling we'll be close to home a whole lot more this time next year (or maybe a little later...).

And home is a good place to be.