This water

This water washed away my tears in 2011 and 2012 when I was totally unsure if my marriage was going to remain intact, and lap after lap, my anxiety turned to prayer turned to peace and exhaustion.

This water gave me a sense of purpose and achievement in 2013 when I was between jobs, and my last outdoor swim of the season that year was with a tiny little baby belly. A little piece of redemption in a place that had seen me through some of my darker times.

This water provided a welcome weightlessness for my postpartum body in all is cumbersome awkwardness in 2014. The silence and stillness was invaluable when I was able to get away from our still-under-construction house and reflux-y baby.

This water was the only place I found relief from lingering postpartum pelvic pain in 2015, and I loved introducing Noah to my sweet summertime ritual here.

And it's happy to welcome me back again this summer. Always ready to refill my thirsty soul with water and light. I usually take Noah to another pool in the mornings now, due to nap times and whatnot, so this pool is all mine again. A reminder of who I am when I'm not answering to "Mama," and a way to refresh myself before going back to the job of mom that I dearly love.

Overly philosophical? Maybe. A little slice of heaven on earth? Absolutely.

Loose Ends

Three years ago around this time, the tapestry of my life started to unravel. By that June, it was completely undone. During those dark days, I had very little faith that God could fix that mess. The song that says, "Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers" rang through my head constantly and brought me to tears.

Here I sit, a short three years later, with an intact marriage, a beautiful baby, and a healthy dose of humility as I realize that I (a doubting Thomas) had to see God's hand to believe. But as Noah plays and I sip my coffee this morning, I can't help but feel like I'm getting a glimpse of eternity-- where ALL things work to the glory of God, and all the hard questions have answers.

Quick Six

This year went by SO fast. Probably because we didn't sleep much from June on. What a fun but crazy year of marriage. Pretty non-eventful on the marriage front (thankfully), but crazy on the life front: new jobs, new house, new baby...

One of my good friends watched Noah for a few hours while Ross and I slipped away for our annual pizza dinner. We went to SPIN and enjoyed sangria on the patio. It was blissful!

It's so crazy to look at Ross and Noah and think how easy it would've been to check out when things fell apart three years ago. But if I had checked out, I wouldn't be HERE. With THEM. And I'm so grateful God held us together when it seemed impossible and undesirable.

Can I be totally unoriginal in my sleep deprived state, and steal a sentiment that's so true, but so not mine?

Remember that thing about God restoring the years the locusts had eaten? Three things in front of me that I shouldn't be staring at. Redemption never gets old. It's never boring to look at. My very own parted sea.

Congrats Sarah and Tommy

On the last day of May, my oldest brother got married. I actually really wanted to write a big post congratulating him but, well, I ran out of time. Suffice to say, Sarah is awesome. I'm so glad she's joined our family! Marriage is so hard but so beautiful, and these two are off to a great start.

If I had the wherewithal, I'd write more like this:

i wanted to tell my sister that marriage is hard and sometimes...i know this will be difficult to believe...but sometimes, you will not want to spoon with your shnuk-ims and let them breathe on the back of your neck all night long. in fact you will ask them to sleep on the couch every so often...

there are lots of things to tell my sister about marriage. but really, it won't matter. it's like trying to tell someone who's pregnant about how their life will change when the baby arrives. it just doesn't work. in fact, it scares them from having a convo with you ever again.

Or this:

i'm so happy for you to start this new part of your life. i know you'll be running to me for all sorts of advice, so i'll spare having to humble yourself and ask.

here's the deal:
a lot of people think that getting married is going to make you happy. it will. sometimes. and sometimes, probably most of the time, it will not. that's because it's not about you.
it's not even about him.

it's about God. we mirror the gospel when we learn to lay down our lives for each other. when we deny ourselves and say, you are more important than me. you die to yourself when you know you could yell some crazy things to them and hurt them so bad. after all, they deserve it. but remember something.

remember that you do some awful stuff. mean stuff.
God knows that about you and still loves you and pursues you every day. he still says, i forgive you when you don't deserve it. he gives you so much grace.
and out of that grace, you are able to give your husband grace. it's the only way.

if you think you can go into marriage, and do this in your own strength, look around. christians and non christians have the same divorce rate. it's really easy to walk away from someone that hurts you deeply. your spouse will be the one who can can love the deepest, but they can cut the deepest too.

and so, you'll need something more than human love.
because your husband can't satisfy that need.
God made it this way for a very important reason:
He, himself is your satisfaction.

i know you didn't ask for this. but i'm your bossy old sister and this is where i get to write things while you're forced to listen.

when things get difficult, really difficult, don't look inward. don't "believe in yourself". don't wake up and try harder. the answer is not inside of you, but outside of you.
simply ask God to show up and change your heart and mind. ask HIM to help you love your husband like He loves your husband.

and when you do it all wrong. when you mess up bad and hurt your husband. when you act stupid and say things you shouldn't have said, know that God still loves you. He will not turn away from you. He knows all the worst things about you and still chooses you.

that is how you love each other. not tips on communication, not better sex, not more kids, not a bigger house. not a better job.
you wake up and ask God to help you love a person that is sometimes unlovable because you recognize that you too are the very same.

good news for newlyweds who don't know what they're getting themselves into when they say, I DO. none of us knew!
maybe God does that on purpose.
funny Guy.

Instead, I'll just say this: keep it all out in the open. When those lines of communication break down, so much falls apart. If you're happy, sad, afraid, stressed... talk. And LISTEN. Don't jump to the defensive. If anything ever feels off, bring it to your spouse. If they brush you off, bring it to a trusted friend. Marriage is too important to present as perfect on the outside while it falls apart on the inside. Fight for it every day! We love you and we mean it when we say, "best wishes and congratulations!"


{Awesome photos courtesy of Tracy Routh}

31 Weeks: Showered with Love

Such a cliche title, I know. But bear with me. My first baby shower was this past Sunday and it was so happy and humbling for me. It's still hard for me to believe that people would want to do stuff for me. To buy stuff for my baby. To go out of their way and do something completely unnecessary! It makes me teary-eyed just thinking about it! (I couldn't let myself read cards at the shower, lest I cry and mess up my eye makeup since I only wear that much makeup, like, once a year).

In spite of my extreme introverted awkwardness and paranoia that everyone is inconvenienced by me, the garden-themed shower was so great. Jami and Rachel hosted and it was quite convoluted trying to explain to my mom how I knew these great women:

Rachel started working at the KU NICU the same day I did back in 2009, so she was one of my first real friends in Kansas City.

Rachel bought her house from Jami and her husband that year, and then kept in touch with them. Who does that?!

I met Jami in passing at Rachel's house-warming party in 2010.

Jami and her husband set Rachel up with her (now) husband in 2012.

Rachel shared something from Jami's blog that spring, so I started reading it the week Jami posted this. Later that same week (I'm not even making this up) I learned something about my own marriage that caused me to e-mail Jami: Ummm I think my marriage is falling apart. You've been there. Can you help me?

I sat in Jami's attic a few weeks later, all bruised up on the outside from surgery, and all numb on the inside from the vast and seemingly abrupt turn my life had just taken. Everything I thought I knew had fallen away and I couldn't even cry. Jami just sat there on the couch in the attic and listened to this stranger tell her life story. What's more, is that God gave Jami the grace to walk through everything with me for the entire next year!

My husband lived with Rachel's husband (then boyfriend) for a bit that summer.

Jami faithfully walked with me through a really rough season, and she's one of the few people who has really seen the utter ugliness of my own heart. I'm so thankful she doesn't just cringe at the sight of me! Knowing her has been redemptive for my marriage, but it's also been redemptive for my own heart. I'm still learning how to have friends and how to love people and how to let them love me. I thank God that he's given Jami the fortitude to stick with me!

Ross and I were in the Nato's Redemption Group this time last year, which was another hard season, but so so so fruitful in the end. (I'm grateful some of those women were also able to be at the shower today!)

Rachel has also seen a lot of my cringe-worthy moments, and she's been so good to stick with me. We've been determined to learn how to be friends together since we were both so lonely when we moved here!

In late 2012, Rachel and I both left the NICU we worked at, for different reasons, but I'm thankful we still see each other. She started a book club of sorts on Thursday nights and it's been helpful for me since I'm so bad at keeping in touch with people I don't just see out of convenience!

Basically, I have no idea how I got so lucky, but God clearly orchestrated the presence of these patient and kind women in my life. And that they know each other and collaborated for a cute garden-themed baby shower is basically the best thing ever.

SO. The shower. I was so overwhelmed that I actually have friends, and so flattered that they threw such a sweet shower that I might have been stunned into silence. I mean, food is one of my love languages and they had an entire TABLE of gluten and dairy-free foods. And it was all cute and delicious! I basically felt like a queen.

So... do you just really like vegetables? No! I mean, yes. But the baby's nursery is garden-themed!

Yum

So cute

The company was great and people just went above and beyond with gifts. Everything was absolutely perfect.

Such a sweet afternoon

Rachel, me, Jami (please don't kill me for posting this, Jami!)

Rachel, Cara, me, Whitney, Kim, Shannon

Santina + me. Friends since 5th grade. So excited she's also having a boy this summer!

It all went by so quickly, and I'm sitting here scratching my head thinking, did that just happen? There was a baby shower for ME? What a crazy moment. I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude.


This baby boy doesn't even know how lucky he is. I'm certainly aware of how lucky I am, though. Thank you Rachel and Jami!!!





Other updates from this week:

Baby started getting the hiccups once or twice a day this week. So funny! And judging by the flailing arms and legs when they start, he seems to be a little confused by them. On my end, I'm doing okay, just feeling bigger by the day. The best parts of my day are when the baby starts squirming for a few minutes. His movements are bigger than ever and while none of them hurt, sometimes I'm surprised by the force he can put behind a good elbow swipe!

Emotionally, I'm extremely stressed by this move. We have to be out of our apartment in one week and our house isn't even close to being liveable. What started off as "just redoing the kitchen" has turned into a complete cascade of everything going wrong. Seriously, I don't think there's a system in the house that isn't affected: we've had to deal with HVAC, plumbing, electric, walls, floors, ceilings, and multiple rooms not being what they appear to be and needing something done about it. Just when we think we're making progress and starting to catch up, something else goes wrong. As if moving wasn't stressful enough!

I'm trying to help out at the house, but then I just end up frustrated. Of course just starting this week, I can't really bend at the waist quickly, and my swelling gets pretty bad after standing on my feet for a bit. A few hours there of seemingly light work, and I'm totally gone. This frustration combined with the stress of moving, and I'm ready to just fast forward a month (which I never thought I'd say because here I sit two months away from my due date worried that time is passing too quickly). But note to self: never ever ever ever move or renovate during pregnancy again.

Happy Birthday Ross!

Ross,

You turned 30 today and you've been so mellow about it. So mellow, in fact, that you planned a surprise party for my birthday when I thought we were going to dinner for your birthday! Stinker. But I still got to hang out with you, so I consider that a good night. You beat me to this milestone birthday, so I can't give you advice-- but these ten tidbits seem pretty solid. To celebrate you, here are 30 things I love about you (in no particular order).

30 Things I Love About You at 30 Years Old

I love that you're pursuing God.

I love that you're a kid at heart.

I love that you are really settling into the role of provider and protector in our family.

I love that you already call our son "handsome" and that you can't wait to meet him.

I love that you came back to fight for our marriage.

I love that you're taking risks and being a more adventurous eater, even though it's out of your comfort zone.

I love traveling with you and seeing different parts of the world through your eyes.

I also love sitting on the couch with you eating takeout. I'm so thankful you're my best friend after all.

I love that you're finishing your Master's degree even though it's been a long ride.

I love that you find irony in the fact that you're doing medical architecture for a career... the one branch you thought you'd never go into!

I love that you can laugh at yourself.

I love that you can make me laugh.

I love that you can just hug me tight when I'm crying, without trying to make it better.

I love that you don't mind driving everywhere.

I love that you quote Friends with me from time to time.

I love the gusto with which you're attacking this home renovation, and I'm endlessly thankful that it's fun for you.

I love that you can put up with my emotional rants (pregnant or not).

I love that you're so enthusiastic about my gluten-free baked goods.

I love that you're supportive of my own creative endeavors, even though they're different from yours.

I love that you're so excited about getting white t-shirts for your birthday.

I love that you're adjusting to the large family you've become a part of.

I love that you're an optimist, even though you're learning that rose-colored glasses don't actually fix things.

I love that you do love to fix things and help others.

I love that you think dogs are great fun... but you're okay with not owning one!

I love that you love country music, even thought the radio stations here are slim pickings.

I love your smile. And your eyelashes. Okay, I think you're pretty good looking overall!

I love your spontaneity.

I love hearing what's on your heart.

I love getting to know you more as we learn how to communicate better.

I love that you're you! I wouldn't change a thing.

I'm honored, humbled, and excited to be by your side as you enter your next decade. Happy birthday!

Freedom in Loss of Control

Last week was eye-opening for me in numerous small ways.

It started with a night shift on Sunday, a busy Monday full of errands and very little sleep, and a quick turn around to day shift on Tuesday. I am really physically worn out from the constant transition between day shift and night shift. (My left eye won't stop twitching!) But I'm still a bit embarrassed that I'm so tired when I'm technically not working overtime, just working often. I've started praying again that I would find rest and security in God, and not in the perfect schedule.

Mid-week, I started thinking about eating disorders and shame and body image in pregnancy.

In the midst of all that, I also had 3 different conversations with several different friends about control, and the freedom found in realizing that God is bigger than your plans and ambitions.

Coupled with the time of year, and an upcoming anniversary of sorts, I kind of absorbed all of this and stored it away in my heart until I could start to verbalize some of it. By the end of the week, I was replenished once again with the peace that comes with surrender, even as I could barely keep my eyes open. Yes, I'm learning to cherish the freedom in being out of control! Because I believe in a God who is big enough to break into our meticulous plans and show us his love in beautiful, unpredictable ways.

The conversation that started the week off had to do with job offers and a friend's decision-making. I am so easily paralyzed by decision making: what if this decision is the crux upon which my entire life rests and I choose the wrong thing and it's all downhill after this? (Please tell me I'm not alone here?) As this woman struggled with similar musings early last week, another friend told us,

"God had so much purpose in my decision to take (job A) even though that's not where He wanted me to stay. The way it all worked out, I needed that job in order to get the job I have now." She reminded us, "God will get you where he wants you, even if it means taking a road you didn't intend or want to take. I believe God took me down the road he did so that He could get the glory. Was it difficult? Extremely. But now look at the story God made to show His sovereignty! ...Don't limit God's power by assuming that everything hinges on this one decision."

In turn, I was able to remind a different friend on Thursday night that even when we make plans, God is bigger than them. His will WILL be done. It's not a sin to make plans, per se. To proceed forward with the information you have, knowing you're treading into unknown territory. The sin comes in holding onto your plans so tightly that you can't see any other way. The sin comes in believing that your way is better than God's way.

Then amidst all this thinking about freedom and control, I started thinking about the fact that most of these good conversations have been with women I didn't know 6 months, 12 months, 18 months ago. And I can't help but wonder if on March 9, 2012 when I unintentionally opened an email that wasn't meant for my eyes and my world came crashing down on me, God wasn't already showering grace upon grace upon grace on me. I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't the worst AND best thing that ever happened to me.

In the months that followed that day, I learned that emotional heartbreak really can make you physically ache. I learned that tears never run out. Thankfully, I learned that God's love doesn't run out either. Even two years later, as we approach that anniversary of sorts, I can see the ripples of grace that that terrible season allowed into my life. The aftermath of the storm has actually been beautiful. When I had nowhere to turn but to God, he softened my heart. When my previous self-sufficiency failed, I learned to be vulnerable with others. God used my loneliest moment to bring about such a richness in my life, and a few budding friendships I'm not sure I would've sought out otherwise.

I think about this post when I look back at the last 3 years:

grace. oh! 

it swallowed me up this year, spit me out, and now i'm laying on the beach thinking, that's not what i thought it would be. 

it has knocked me around. i've thought for so long it was me and Jesus working together and now i see it's just him. grace is telling me it's all Him and NONE of Me. how painful it has been to truly believe that i can take no credit. that i must rely on Him for every.single.tiny.step.

the stirrings in my heart. they were given by him, then stirred by him, then brought to fruit by him, or even not brought to fruit by him!

it's not on me. even my response to the call is not my own. i can't even get over that thought.

the repentance and the peace that it brings are treasures. i can't stand up, i'm knocked over with grace.

Jami's response to grace resounds loudly with me this time of year. The last few years have held some of my most deeply cherished and thought-out plans, and then seen them all washed away. I feel like I was swept out to sea on a tidal wave, completely at a loss for how to proceed, but then it somehow dumped me on the shores of "happy, married, and pregnant," but via a very painful, circuitous route that I'm still trying to wrap my head around. God's funny like that. Grace is powerful like that. It's bigger than all of us, and I'm so grateful!

Valentine's Day

When I got married, I naively thought that the lonely ghosts of Valentines past would no longer haunt me. I thought that from there on out I had a built-in Valentine! To buy me flowers! And lavish me with gifts! What I didn't think about was budgets, shared bank accounts, high expectations, poor communication and... well... human nature.

This year, I'm finally realizing that it's just a day. A wonderful day that gives me an opportunity to remind my loved ones that I cherish them, sure. But more than that, it's a day that reminds me that human love is a shallow imitation of divine love. (Yes I went there. I had to.) It's a day that gives me the opportunity to re-evaluate and re-orient my heart's dependence once again.

Human love is never 100% flawless. It is never 100% selfless. It comes close at times, certainly. I hope that the closer I draw to God, the better I can mirror His love toward others. But honestly, I love myself most of all most of the time, and that's hard to admit out loud.

Today it's like I'm looking at myself in a great big mirror and I don't like what I see. I'm standing there with an innocent look on my face, but with huge flashing arrows above me pointing down at this person who just doesn't love well, yet expects perfect love in return. Marriage has been a wonderful sanctification tool in this respect. I'm sure motherhood will be the same, or possibly even more intense. But my friendships also provide a platform to love well... or not. Same with the family that love deeply but often take for granted.

Yet this isn't cause for distress. It's cause for hope! There's something better out there. There is one source of UNWAVERING, ALWAYS FAITHFUL, NEVER FAILING love. And oh, how much greater will be my joy and how much lesser will be my disappointment when I look to THAT love to fulfill me, instead of the love of another messed up human being. If my Valentine's Day-- or my every day-- is good or bad based on how well someone else loves me, well, I may end up disappointed more often than not.

But if my eyes are on God? He never wavers, and my heart simply can't grow faint when it rests in Him the way that it can when I have high expectations of other people and they don't meet them. Eyes on other people - - > roller coaster. Eyes on God - - > peace. Hope. Comfort. (Incidentally, I just realized that my friend recently wrote a post of this very thing that she's been preaching to me for ages. It's worth reading.)

As I look back on my short little life, I can see that I usually have no one to blame but my over-sensitive self for my Valentine's Day pity parties. My first Valentine's Day with Ross, we were engaged and he had planned a really elaborate Valentine's surprise that involved clues and a scavenger hunt and honestly I don't even know what else. Because I misinterpreted his intentions, got really upset, and ended up pouting at home in Ft. Worth and missing whatever he had planned in Dallas.

Thus for our first two married Valentine's Days Ross was, understandably, a little gun shy. He didn't plan anything. This upset me, too, and led to multiple arguments. The two years after that, Valentine's Day fell during tumultuous times in our marriage and it was hit or miss. I believe flowers or chocolate were often involved, but very much out of obligation and not sentiment.

Last year we talked about it, agreed to not spend money, and things started off great. Ross had filled out some cute kiddie Valentines with things he loved about me and they were sitting on my desk when I woke up. But then that evening... Ross may or may not have bought me a gorgeous necklace, and I may or may not have gotten horribly upset that he spent so much money on something I didn't even want. I ended up crying in our bedroom and missing out on the dinner he had planned. (Again, I have no one to blame but myself for these disastrous responses).

So this year, we talked about it again: we have a Friday night tradition of takeout and a movie after a long week. Valentine's Day falls on Friday. Let's just do that. No gifts. Just time together.

 
I had lower expectations, but in a good way. (Although Ross' post-it notes were fun to wake up to.) Friday was a day full of reminding myself to not react selfishly if Ross didn't stick exactly to the plan. A day full of reminding myself that it's unfair to place so much hope in Ross when I certainly hadn't planned anything. A day full of reminding myself that God's love is enough. Only and always.

{Lulu's takeout. His usual. My usual. Chocolate Truffles. Winter Olympics. It was good.}

And finally, on our seventh Valentine's Day together, I didn't cry. I didn't feel sorry for myself. It finally surpassed my previous favorite Valentine's Day senior year of high school when my sweet guy friends sent a bunch of candy-grams from their all-boys school to me at my all-girls school. I felt so loved yesterday, and I hope that I can share some encouragement: take their eyes off of your Valentine (or lack thereof) and realize that there's something more out there. Someone who accepts you-- who made you-- just the way you are, and loves you desperately.

Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th has become a holiday of sorts for Ross and I. Not because we love Halloween and creepy things and bad luck, but because it's been such a significant date for us in the past few years.

Friday April 13, 2012 was quite possibly the worst day of my life. It was the day I learned the truth about our marriage.

Friday July 13, 2012 was the day we renewed our vows after separation, counseling, and much divine intervention.

Ever since then, we've tried to celebrate Friday the 13th with a fun night out. Anniversaries have not been historically good for us (this year was the definite exception to the rule). Nor has Valentine's Day or other big holidays. Too much pressure, leading to dashed expectations.

But Friday the 13th? It's random. It usually sneaks up on us. It often comes around more than once a year. And it's fun for us.

This past Friday December 13, we got a great discount deal on the Nutcracker ballet and took a little staycation. Friday we braved the freezing rain and grabbed sushi at Nara. Yummmm. We had a gluten-free"Mostess" cupcake from Mud Pie for dessert.

Saturday, we slept in and then went to the Nutcracker. It was my first real event in the Kauffman Center, and it was awesome!

It was great to have unlimited time to talk and just hang out with each other without normal life distractions. And Ross got to go to the ballet for the first time! I felt lousy and didn't want to be photographed, but now I do wish we'd gotten a better picture of us to commemorate the occasion.

The next Friday the 13th... is our baby's due date. How awesome is that?! We couldn't have planned it if we tried. It would be really cool if this baby decided to be among the 5% of babies who are actually born on their due date, right?

Even Here

If you've known me at all in real life or via social media in the past 6 years, it's pretty clear that I don't like night shift. Loathe might be a better word. I don't handle it well physically, mentally, or emotionally. When I left the NICU this time last year, I took a huge, HUGE risk leaving my day shift and my seniority behind. 

Honestly, I regret that a lot. I knew the risk I was taking, and man have I grown a ton in the last year in ways that might not have presented themselves if I was in the same old job, but I do find myself longing for that old job more often than I should, given that they're not hiring right now. In two short weeks, I will officially lose all seniority at that hospital since I've been gone for a year. I hate that. But it's out of my hands at this point. 

Once I decided to resign from my clinic job, I was really anxious about finding a new job since most of the positions I applied and interviewed for were not day-shift positions. I'm so blessed to have found an arrangement that avoids full-time nights! However, I do currently work a few nights a month in a PRN capacity. It's so much better than full-time, but it's still a bit painful. Since I'm accustomed to being awake during the day and my night shifts are all spread out, it often means going to work without being able to take a nap and therefore staying awake for 24+ hours. It means not seeing Ross some weekends because I'm asleep while he's awake, and then I'm at work in the evenings. It means bringing some old wounds and fears to the surface. The last time I worked nights regularly, our marriage was so dysfunctional that we didn't even know dysfunctional it was! So it's scary to go back to the unknowns of what's going on while I'm sleeping or working.

 

It's frustrating to be so tired and not be able to sleep normally. It's a little suffocating to think about how little money we're bringing in right now and to feel the pressure to sign up for more night shifts while simultaneously dreading it. My thoughts are all jumbled up.

I had been dreading this weekend for a month due to back-to-back nights. It felt like Ross and I hadn't spent time together in ages. I'd been sick with an awful sinus infection since Monday and I dragged my butt to my other job Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, which wore me out. To say I was seriously bummed (and tired) heading to work Friday night would be an understatement. 

But when I got home Saturday morning, Ross was awake making me eggs. And when I woke up ravenous at 1pm, he brought me a snack. He went grocery shopping while I slept and made dinner while I got ready for work. When I realized we didn't have any food prepared or ready for me to make and take for lunch Saturday night, he ran to Chipotle and got me a delicious burrito bowl. As I walked out the door with my Chipotle bag in hand, I was overwhelmingly grateful. I still wanted to throw my bags down and stay home, but for a different reason. Instead of dreading work, I was dreading spending yet another evening away from this man I love.

My heart was so warm all night and I just kept thinking, God is so good at his job. To give us a chance of redemption here, in this painful place that's part of our past and present. To bring things such full-circle via night shift. To give Ross a chance to serve me in a place where I can do nothing but say thank you over and over again. And thank you to God for second chances.

Celebration

Thanks so much for your kind words on yesterday's post! We're so happy to be celebrating 5 years of marriage. It's worth celebrating!

Speaking of which, I worked night shift this week and when I pulled up to the apartment yesterday morning, Ross was just leaving for work. He had a box in his arms and I smiled and waved as I parked. He smiled, and then slouched over and went back inside. Ha!

I walked up the stairs to see what was going on, and he was standing inside with a box in his hands, saying I'd caught him! He was trying to go to work with my anniversary gift, to surprise me with it when he got home and I woke up. Instead, I got to open it early.

But first, the back story:

I love baked goods and I was really particular about finding a wedding cake that was delicious more than anything else. We got our cakes from Cupcake Island in Omaha and we loved them! The main cake was lemon with raspberry filling, and the groom's cake was chocolate with strawberry filling. Yum! We cut and served our own cake at our reception and it was so fun.

Well, our wedding reception venue "lost" the top tier of our wedding cake, and I've always been pretty disappointed by that. We never got to eat gross freezer-burned cake on our anniversary! We kept meaning to go back and get more cake but then time went on, and then I stopped eating gluten, and then our marriage wasn't great.

But we were in Omaha this past winter and happened to drive by Cupcake Island for the first time in years-- and they had a sign in the window advertising gluten-free cupcakes! Apparently Ross started plotting.

This Wednesday, he DROVE TO AND FROM OMAHA to get a lemon cake with raspberry filling, decorated exactly like the top tier of our wedding cake, to celebrate 5 years! It was so thoughtful and symbolic and beautiful and delicious! A perfect gift. And I got to eat cake for breakfast.

The rest of our celebration was tonight. Per tradition, we went out for pizza! There's more of an explanation here, but basically we served pizza at our wedding reception and have since made it a tradition to celebrate our anniversary with a good pizza dinner!

Tonight we went to Waldo Pizza for the first time. I'm so bummed we didn't get a picture together, but we certainly did enjoy our food. (I got a GF Hawaiian pizza with jalepenos and vegan mozzarella. Don't knock it 'til you try it.)

I will go to bed tonight full of good food and good memories. Celebratory, indeed!

Five Years

Dear Ross,

Sometimes I feel like people don't take us seriously because we've "only" been married for 5 years, or because we don't have kids yet, or because we aren't homeowners. I have to remind myself, "don't let others look down on you because you are young..." But I also have to remember, we are young! (Even when I give you a hard time about being in the last year of your 20s).

During these early years, though, I've felt so old. I felt so worn, so broken, and so weary, so early on. We stumbled straight into "for worse" but today, despite all circumstances, I feel like we're easing into "for better." I'd love to stand here and say, we chose each other! We chose the hard thing! But really, the choice was never ours to make. God used the rough edges of the past 5 years to smooth our restless hearts and when we looked with clarity, the answer was already there: You were already always a part of me.

Our marriage was a teeter-totter for so long, ready to slam us on the ground either way at the slightest breath: all in or all out. It feels like God tipped the scales in favor of us before we were ever ready to put the work in. We were pulling one way, and he gently laid a loving but heavy hand on the opposite seat and said, come this way. We fought. But slowly, so slowly, our marriage began to tip toward all in.

And today, I have nothing but gratefulness in my heart that that slow, involuntary tip toward us has become a landslide. I'm all in. I know more about you than I ever fathomed the day we said "I do," but I also love you more than I ever thought I would.

God carried us through the dark days and showed us how to choose each other. We're growing into "for better" and it's that much sweeter now. Someday we'll be better at sharing our story. About boldly declaring, "look what God did when we messed up beyond the point of no return!"

But until then, we'll tell each other, and we'll tell those close to us. We'll remind each other that if God can know us intimately and still choose us, we can see the worst in each other and still choose love. Love sees the best, too. And loving you grows easier and easier.

Happy Anniversary!

All my love,

           your wife

Seven Times Seventy Times

I love to process through writing. My family sometimes thinks I share too much on the internet, but in reality, the vast majority of my life goes unspoken on my blog. However, two of my dear friends write a lot about marriage and inspire me to live a little more boldly in this realm. The truth of my marriage is messy, embarrassing, and sometimes shameful. I’m not sure how much I will ever share online about what really happened, but in the end, redemption happened. The victory is the Lord’s and I don’t want to minimize that. God is doing marvelous things every day and we all need reminders.

To that end, I admire when friends want to be real, and I'm humbled when they ask to hear our story. I love the change that happened in my life when I was able to start speaking honestly. When I was able to stop saying, “I’m fine,” and reach out and ask for help. Sometimes now I find that I’m compulsively honest when people aren’t ready for it; I’m still learning where the balance is in that regard. But the bottom line is the same: I want to shout it, go on and scream it from the mountains, go on and tell it to the masses, that He is God.

This is our story:

A year ago this July, Ross moved back home. We’d been separated twice for a total of 5 1/2 months between June 2011 and July 2012. It feels very surreal to remember the pain of those separations. The confusion. The constant physical heart ache. The loneliness that reinforced every bad thought I’d had about myself. Feeling unloved and unworthy and unwanted.

When I got married, I thought that we were going to live happily ever after.

No, really.

Other people say marriage is hard, but we were actually in love and I knew Ross was The One, so we’d be fine.

They said marriage was hard work, but I breezed right in.

Ross and I had many small and a few large problems in our dating relationship, but I chose to turn a blind eye to them. I thought marriage would “fix” those right up.

Oh, to shake myself by the shoulders 6 years ago. Marriage is not for the faint of heart. If you’re thinking marriage will solve your individual or relational problems, take note: the minute you say “I do,” the work really begins.

I don’t say this to be glum or pessimistic. I say this because the devil hates marriage. Let me say it again. The devil HATES marriage, especially between two Christians. Why? Because the marital relationship reflects the Trinitarian relationship. If reflects God’s love for us. It sanctifies us.

Haven’t you ever wondered why opposites attract? Marriage exists to teach us sacrificial love. Humility. Grace. Forgiveness. Mercy. We usually turn a blind eye to these lessons because they’re hard, or we think we don’t need them. The truth is, the world teaches us that marriage exists to make us happy when, in fact, it exists to teach us the Gospel. The friction refines us. We suddenly find ourselves living with another person who holds up a mirror and shows us all the things we don’t like about ourselves. We can face it, or we can leave when the going gets tough.

Last March, the tough got tougher for us when truth came to light. I felt lost and confused and shaken. I thought I was at rock bottom. Little did I know, that was just the beginning. It took a few months for the whole truth about our marriage to come out. And it’s taken a full year for me to start to see the depths of depravity in my own heart.

The first big crack in the facade appeared last March, and over the course of a month, the whole truth about our sham of a marriage came out. I wanted to re-gain my footing, I wanted to stand on solid ground, but I felt like the earthquake wasn’t over yet. I was still falling through the darkness, the ground was still shaking. It was still happening.

Sure enough, a few days after the final confession, like the perfect, glistening cherry on top of the rotting heap that was our marriage, I got one last note on my car windshield. Above all the painful, hard truths that had come out over the past month, that one cut the deepest. My husband’s note said, “I’ve never loved you.” That’s when the doubt earned a foothold. A small voice in the back of my mind said, “I told you so. He never did love you and even if you force him to stay, he never will love you.”

My previously fierce determination wavered and I wanted to give in. At that point, divorce looked like the easier choice. And divorce is messy and painful and expensive, so that’s saying something. After reading that note I was mad. I stormed off, past Ross sitting in his car outside my apartment, and sped to our old church. No one was there to talk to me so I sat and cried and read the book of Isaiah. I was so tired of fighting.

And then, oh, then. I got back in my car and met up with a trusted friend. She told me that all of Ross’ kingdoms were crumbling. Every story he had built up was collapsing. He was being exposed. She went on to say that his eyes were being opened and he finally saw that, in fact, all the things he had done were not something a person would ever do out of love.

She said she and her husband tend to applaud men when they come to this realization because it’s the bottom of the truth. I didn’t feel like applauding (sorry, friend). I felt like quitting. I had found my threshold. This was apparently The Line. I’d been holding on to the idea that if Ross still loved me, at least we had a chance of making this work. And when he didn’t, I was empty. All used up. Ready to run and never look back.

What my friend said next will always stick with me: “So what you’re saying is, you’re willing to forgive him 70 times but not 77 times?”  (Matthew 18:22)

Yes, in fact.

Thank God for good counsel. Looking back now, quitting then would have been like surrendering right before the tide turned in battle. It would have been quietly slinking away in the darkest night right before dawn. I would’ve jumped ship in the storm and failed to see the rainbow. I needed to hold onto God’s love, not my husband’s.

I didn’t believe that our marriage could be redeemed. I didn’t think God was strong enough. But I had nothing left in me to do anything otherwise, so I decided to stay. Rock bottom is where you meet God. When there is truly no way you can turn this sh*t around, you have to rely on something greater than yourself. I didn’t want another hallow victory. I wanted a new marriage with Ross. I didn’t expect it to happen, but thank God for the tiniest spark of hope. Good counsel and the Holy Spirit fanned it into flame when I was ready to let it extinguish.

I don’t say this to sound high and mighty, like I forgave Ross for these great transgressions and then we lived happily ever after. No. I’m learning now that Real Marriage is messy. I thought forgiveness was a feeling, a one-time proclamation. In fact, it’s a daily decision for both of us. Last summer, I came to see that in the same way Ross ran from me, I had run from God.  All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). There is only Jesus, and everybody else. One Perfect Person, and the rest of us. No sinner is better or worse than another in the eyes of God. (In fact, sometimes I think big sins wake us up to this reality whereas small sins are easier to overlook and rationalize and blame on others.)

Last spring, amidst the heartache, there was some joy in knowing I wasn’t a crazy, paranoid, hormonal woman. The red flags that bothered me for years were very real promptings from the Holy Spirit that something was very wrong. There was some peace in knowing that God broke what we had because he wanted us to have something better.

I still struggle to accept the fact that God could still love me and forgive me, and that’s nothing but sinful pride. I remember sitting in the hard, uncomfortable pew at church on Good Friday last year, feeling numb inside. I felt deceived and alone and wronged. I was unable to comprehend that Jesus knew he was going to be betrayed by one of the people closest to him and he didn’t get angry. He didn’t seek revenge. He loved. He still died for that person. And praise God that our truth came to light during Lent, because remembering Jesus’ faithfulness kept me from walking away from the vows I made.

There’s no tidy bow on top of this messy story. There’s not one easy moral to learn. Things are still really hard, and there are a lot of highs and lows. In the past year, I have found myself in as much need of forgiveness as my husband. Sin is sin is sin. I have felt shame and I have learned humility. And I’ve met Jesus in the darkest times.

Ross and I renewed our vows last July and on that day we witnessed our marriage like it had never been before. We knew each other and still loved each other. Beauty had risen from the ashes. God is faithful indeed. Marriage has shown me that His story, even in the deepest valleys, is better than anything I could write for myself.

(photos taken the day Ross moved back in, by Erica May Short from Anecdotally Yours)

Into the Dark

These musings seem fitting on this cold, blustery, umpteenth cloudy day of March. Last Friday was unexpectedly warm and sunny – but on the inside, things were falling apart. It's like the light shone in an even deeper contrast to the darkness of my own heart.

Sometimes God chases us into dark places so we can feel the pain and agony of separation from Him. So we can see redemption. So that He can use our mess to bring glory to Himself by fixing something that conventional wisdom tells us is broken beyond repair.

Other times, when I don't like what the light is exposing, I flee to the darkness myself. I foolishly think I can find comfort in solitude and lick my wounds in the shadows until there's enough distance between me and my mistakes for me to try again.

The first kind of separation is necessary and life-giving. The second type of separation will kill me if I try to dig myself out of yet another hole by myself.

Here I am again. At the bottom, looking up. And it's hard to look up, because I dug the hole myself this time. It's humbling to ask for help when I got myself into this situation in the first place.

But that's where the Good News has a chance to slap me in the face. My small group leader keeps reminding me: God is good. God is kind. God is faithful. He invented fun, humor, love, and connection. 

And I'm saying, I feel hopeless. I'm tired and worn. What if healing never comes? I'm so afraid of that. What if life is always like this?

So then I start having this conversation with myself between my fear and what I know to be true:

What if things never change? What if God is punishing me?

Even if the healing never comes, He is enough.

But I'm so scared. He's a God of wrath, and I deserve wrath. 

But he's also a God of restoration. Our refuge and strength. Our very present help in trouble. Do not fear, though the earth gives way (Psalm 46:2)!

When I feel worthy of only God's wrath, it's hard to accept his love. But Jesus took the wrath I deserve. When God looks upon me, his daughter, he sees me through the lens of Jesus. And he loves me with a steadfast, unconditional love that I can't fathom. I can never deserve that. I can never earn that. And I never have to. Isn't that reason enough to praise God?

Paul Tripp says that hopelessness is the gateway to hope, meaning that the only way I will ever find true hope is to give up on all those places where I’ve put my hope before. Or, you know, cling to them so tightly that they crumble beneath my expectations and disappoint me. My default is to find hope horizontally: if only my situation/location/relationship was better, then I'd be happy.

But no person or relationship on earth can give me the peace and security I'm looking for. My job will never make life worth living. Having people like me will never make me happy. I'm never going to be flawlessly beautiful in the eyes of the world and not haircut or article of clothing will change that. No worldly experience or travel or popularity will fulfill me. I see that. I've lost hope. Because my hope was in the wrong things to begin with.

Tripp says,

Just as horizontal hope will fail us, a horizontal diagnosis will miss what is truly broken. I like to think that my biggest problem in life exists outside me, not inside me. I want to say my problems are situational, locational, or relational. But they’re not. My biggest problem is vertical and personal.

There is something that lurks inside me that is dark and dangerous – sin. It kidnaps my thoughts, diverts my desires, and distorts my words. Only Christ can fix this problem. No horizontal hope can ever fix a vertical problem. So God promises to send His son as the vertical and ultimate solution. “The Redeemer will come to Zion, to those in Jacob who repent of their sins" (Isaiah 59:20).

And what do you know? God has showed up in a tangible way this week. I have... what looks like... what could be... the beginnings of a community of believers who love me? A home away from home? People who barely know me, willing to step into the mess and say, this is not okay. But in the same breath, they say, what can I do to help? I'm praying for you. I need this reflection of God's love. I need people in my life who can shake me by the shoulders and say, you are not a burden. You don't bother me. I love you and God loves you regardless. And He's here, even now.

I'm starting to see it again.

Grateful for Your Love 

by Ellie Holcomb (Download this song. It's amazing.)

Love is an Ocean

Hope is a Promise

Light is overtaking

Grace is overwhelming.

You chased us into the dark and Lord we're grateful, oh we're grateful

You captured our hearts with your love, Oh Lord you're Faithful, You are Faithful.

Nothing we've ever done was too much for you to handle on the cross

We're grateful for your love. 

Weight is lifted

Mercy tore the curtain

Sin is no master

Freedom calls our name.

Life is granted

Chains have been broken.

Let's do Lent

Lent. It's not just for Catholics. Let's just say that Lent for the past, oh, 5 years has not been kind to us. God has used the season before Easter to scrape off layers of our mess until finally, last year, we had no choice but to face it. This year, we're looking forward to celebrating instead of mourning. We even decorated with a sweet Lenten calendar from Naptime Diaries!

Lent is simply the 40 day period before Easter, excluding Sundays. "Lent" is the Old English word for spring (yay!). Contrary to popular opinion, Lent is not a Catholic word for "hotbed of Protestant controversy" or "self-flagellation and forced repentance in order to earn righteousness."

If you celebrate Advent in preparation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, consider participating in this season set aside for somber consideration of the death and, ultimately, resurrection of Jesus.

Church seasons aren't designed to make us feel inadequate or forced into practice. Rather, they help us rest, worship, and reset out priorities.

Lenten fasting, then, is not a masochistic way for us to pretend that we're suffereing like Christ suffered on the cross. But it can re-orient our hearts toward Jesus. I was so tempted to give up something that would benefit me physically, like banning sugar. But for me, that sounded more like a diet than a fast.  In the end, I had to ask myself: What do I turn to instead of God? What do I lean on in difficult times? What do I spend my free time thinking about?

When I wake up, do I open my laptop first, or my Bible? When I'm so tired and filled with worry, do I pour out my heart to the One who knows my innermost being, or do I try to fill the hole in my heart by filling my stomach with sweet treats? Perhaps, without these crutches, I will learn to lean on God more. I will turn to Him first.

My Lenten fast won't make me holier, but it will point me to the cross. My small sacrifice will whisper of a much larger sacrifice and a saving grace that I could never earn. And when and if I mess up, I can rejoice in the fact that I could not earn my salvation even if I had perfect willpower. The work is already done and there's nothing I can do to deserve that. That's why we celebrate Easter!

Giving something up in and of itself can't bridge the gap between you and God, but it can help us cast down our idols. Are you giving anything up this Lent?