Proverbs 30:18-19

When creating this website, I had high hopes of daily posting the nuances of delight I experience in walking alongside my beloved–she’s certainly everything wonderful–but I find myself too often unable to articulate such marvelous inexplicability.

Ah well, I am not alone:

“There are three things which are too wonderful for me, Four which I do not understand: The way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship in the middle of the sea, and the way of a man with a maid.”

for real?

My sister got married over three years ago, and after over two years, I finally began to feel like she was for real, and not just playing house with a boy, pots and pans, and a baby. But yeah–it took forever to realize she was just as legitimate as, say, my mother.

So now I’m playing house–or, at least, I will be. For now, I’m content to just play dress-up. Yes, I will publicly confess here that yesterday afternoon I walked around the house with 3″ heels so that I could practice walking, not falling, and working on my smile-through-gritted-teeth-because-my-feet-are-killing-me.

No comments, please.

sudden

“Keep a journal,” Mrs. Kinnen said.

Keeping a journal means, to me, simply slowing down enough to notice: to notice moments, feelings, faces and places, and to ponder them for so long that you come to cherish them. And once I truly cherish something, there is the compulsion to write it down and honor it with a permanent record.

So I’m taking a deep breath these last few days.

This morning I woke a bit on the late side (after 7; what a sluggard!) Actually, I was privileged to wake up four times this morning–but that’s not part of this story.

I woke up under the familiar weight of my down comforter, lofty after years of use because of my diligent “fluffing”. My first sight was of shelves of books–journals, textbooks, art books, magazines, and children’s stories–that each tell of an interest I have, or, at least, have had. My eyes wander: there are the tall pineapple-crowned posts of my bed; there are the photos of places I have seen and want to remember; there are the chairs I loved and bought because of my mother’s encouragement to do so; there is the artwork of a best friend, the gift of a sister, the framed card I thought sweet enough to preserve… There is the collection of my years on the earth.

And high on a top shelf, noticeable because it was recently moved and still seems out of place (I don’t adjust to change so very quickly), is a vase bursting with dried flowers. Each time it catches my eye, the thought is the same, and this time was no different: “Those are not quite as pretty as at first. I’ll need to collect a new bouquet from the gardens this summer.”

Ah, this summer. Suddenly I was taking in the room with a fresh appreciation, although my mind was wandering. Summer has always meant one thing for sure: long days out in the hot afternoon sun, weeding and turning sod and pruning and transplanting, rewarded by vibrant patches of color that grew larger each year. But this summer? What will this summer be?

There are winds of change, and a sense of excitement mingled with twinges of sadness. There are summer days of hot sun when the air is still and smothering, and suddenly a gust of wind will sweep through–and it stops you suddenly, because you recognize the cool temperature and sweet smell as the warning of drastic change. Rain is coming.

Change is coming, and I realized, as I looked at the dried arrangement in my room, that without even realizing it, my summers of working in Mama’s perennial beds have been relegated to the attic of my memory, to be retold to nieces and nephews and even my own children.

Sudden.

I’m always struck by the fact that, no matter how much planning and thinking goes into a transition, there is still a certain moment, a sudden instant, when that transition takes place. All the planning in the world can not change the pace at which that happens. How many weddings have I attended and simply marveled at the fact that, regardless of whether the event took two months or two years to plan, that man and that woman, after repeating two short sentences, just had their lives changed. It’s sudden, whether you ease in or dive in.

And I guess part of that “sudden” is happening already, in the realization that suddenly childhood Christmases are a memory, summer gardens are a memory, coming home to my siblings is a memory, getting rides with my mom is a memory, my identity as only a daughter is a memory.

I don’t mean to sound morbid or sad, because I certainly am not. If anything, as I process what effect this “suddenly” has had on my life, and I box up each memory and tuck it away to be retold, I realize how very full of wonderful things my life has been and how very rich in blessing I have always been. This morning, as I looked at those telling flowers, I thought, “I can’t wait to tell stories about how Mama and I loved the same things together, and how my life was permeated with the warmth of love.”

So today I’m excited about change, and even more excited because of the wealth with which I face the future. I have much to pass on.

the beginnings of covenant

A week and a day.

My favorite part is waking up each morning, and even before my conscious has kicked into gear, being aware of sensation on my left ring finger. I feel for it, unthinking, and am suddenly awakened by the reminder that yes, I am wearing a ring (never before heard of), and yes, it means that now, even in my unaware state, I belong to someone. I am promised.

A woman told me last night of her husband’s daily love letters during their courtship, and how great a revelation it was of the security there is in love. Yes, this covenant love is an amazing picture of His love for the Bride, and as Ryan expresses constant affection, it is opening my ears to hear the echo of His whisper in each word.

What a wonder is this depth of love.

When I Became a Man

“When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.” — 1 Cor 13:11

I worked so hard this past year—sometimes frantically—to get my proverbial “house in order,” as I waited for an answer from Danica’s father to take her hand in marriage. And now, as this reality has arrived (even if still a few short months away), the responsibility is overwhelming.

I need God in my life like never before, and isn’t it exciting to know that those who call upon Him, He will answer.