Lessons from Joel | Post 24

My mom had the idea, and I'm in the throes of it.  Because I loved it.   A "Wall of Men" in our Little Guy's room.  My two grandpas - Dirt and Papa.  Caleb's two grandpas - Paps and Pop.  Our fathers, Alan and Terry.  And our brothers: Daniel, Elijah, Tim, Micah, Kevin, Andrew, Joshua, Dude, Jeremiah, Josiah and Joel.   One of my projects during this month in Oklahoma was to gather and scan all the individual portraits of the men in Caleb's family.  His mom pulled out album after album for me.  I chose my favorite, she scanned, and we'd repeat.

Today I chose Joel's picture.  I flipped through his album - my first time since having my own little man in me.  The pictures of him singing like he's in a choir (songbook and all) with big rainboots on make me laugh out loud.  And his scrunch-nose faces.  Page after page of that scrunch.  His album is happy - full of farm life, birthdays, holidays, animals, family and big big cheeks.  I chose my favorite picture: one where he's wearing a yellow tie, doing his scrunch face.  I adore it.  The pages are obviously coming to an end… and he's still only three.  I know there aren't more years of pages to add.  I know the album is going to end with a thud.  There aren't hospital pictures.  Or chemo and bloated and sleeping in a white metal bed pictures.  There are some pictures of cute twins in cowboy get-up, making faces in a window sill on a red barn.  And then: there is a letter, on the front side of the final page.

A mom writes to her boy and tells him how sad she is to finish this book.  Reading "finish" makes my eyes sting.  She's sad to finish this book, because she's finishing it without him.  She goes on to list the things that come to mind in that moment - the things she misses the most.  They were awfully beautiful and dreadful to read, especially while Little Guy butt-butted my belly-button as I took it in.  "I miss your little voice."  She told a story in her letter about how Joel would ask her to "help me, mommy?" in his final few weeks.  Everything was so hard and painful for him.  She wrote to him how much she loved to help him, and how she'd hold his hands and lift and carry him.  When he was particularly uncomfortable he'd ask "Help me carefully?"  

The yellow-tied, rain-booted-choir-boy, bald-baby, scrunch face from a few pages ago.  I couldn't help but cry.  Oh Joel.  "Help me carefully."  What sound and sweet words, little brother.  I flipped that last page and there were sticker letters spelling out a part of a common verse: "The Lord gives and…"  That was all.  The Lord gives and.  "Takes away" didn't need to be said.  The hard white back of the photo-album, with the "Creative Memories" logo made it clear.  The Lord gives and… the end.  We know what else He does.  But He gave.  Flip back two pages, and look at what He gave.  And He gives still.  He gives promise.  And Himself.  And album-making.  And time passing.  And grandsons.  And sunshine.

And He gives help, carefully.  

I've unavoidably meditated on Joel's brilliant phrase for the last few hours.  "Careful" is nearly implied in the definition of help: "Make it easier for someone to do something by offering aid; to make more pleasant or bearable; to give assistance or support to."  If the "help" isn't actually easing the load, making the situation better, really full of care and ability to know "what makes this situation better?" than it's not much help at all.  It's more problem.  

Careless, flippant, off-handed, rushed "help" is actually harm.  Check the thesaurus.  Harm.  Obstruction.  Hinderance.  "Help the weak," the Bible tells us so.  And who among us would be confused at the concept when "weak" is a blonde, limp, beautiful, distorted-by-disease child asking with his mouth for food or for the potty or for more blankets?  A heavy, tear-filled, eager heart can only carefully help.  Maybe even fearfully - so concerned about the welfare of the little guy, I know I'd edge far more on the side of moving too slow, taking more time, and checking with him too often.  I'd hate to bring more hurt to him.  

But I think carefully helping the other kinds of weak are a sad blind-spot in the church.   Full of good intention ("Hey! I'm helping! Serving, even!") and maybe even deep, well-studied doctrine, many are aware of truths and promises and help's about God.  Who He is.  What He says.  What He commands.  Militantly, sometimes, church-folk can stomp into the newly burned ashes of a destroyed heart-town and say "Ah-ha!  We know what fixes this!"  Quickly, the broken is gone and the new-and-improved homes and shops are re-built, the roads are paved, the ashes are swept away.  They took care of that!  This was me.  A true (very true - and not even misapplied scripture) was my handy-dandy construction crew.  It's simple, I "helped."  Get rid of this, create this - here, I'll even do it for you - and wa-la!  All better now!

I spent a lot of my life doing a lot of very, very good building.  And a lot of very, very bad helping.  I didn't slowly come up to someone in front of their charred home and sit with them, weeping.  I didn't ask.  I just did.  I didn't offer to go through the rubble and mess and see what could be restored and saved.  I didn't offer to leave the grieving alone, and give them plenty of time to search and mourn themselves (if they wanted.)  I didn't unlock my heart and engage my brain and try to imagine and understand just what this may be like.  I didn't listen to stories as much as I offered my two-cents Jesus-girl solution to the "problems" in the stories.  I don't think I helped carefully.

And when it was me.  When my life was the one on fire.  When my memories and feelings were the ones black and impossible-to-breath-through.  When my heart needed an ear, not a mouth.  When I was weak and silently begging for help.  It changed me.  And the pat-on-my-back, "you're actually being kind of annoying and clingy… and not trusting God… but I won't say it, I'll just casually throw out this excuse about why I can't really take the time to understand you," Bible BandAid, "God won't give you more than you can handle! Grin!," brief "help" was so hurtful.  It made me feel so much worse.  It wasn't considerate, caring or careful.  And now I knew what it was like to be on that side of it.

I wanted (and treasure) the Hosea 11 help.  "I took them up by their arms… I led them with cords of kindness, with bands of love.  I became the one who eased the burdens on their jaw.  I bent down, and fed them."  I learned of Mark 14 help. "Leave her alone.  Why are you bothering her?  She has done a beautiful thing to me."  I learned about me and Jesus.  I learned about a mother's head rub and silence, letting me cry and duke it out with my Father.  I learned about friends who announced that they were coming to get you and take you grocery shopping with them!  That's that!  I learned about the people who didn't compare and share their heart-hurts with me while I was just trying to work through my own stings.  They just simply were there - with their whole hearts and minds.  These things "were hidden from the wise and understanding, and have been revealed to little children," like Joel.  "Come to me! All! All who are weary and heavy of heart!  I will give you rest.  I am gentle, and lowly in heart.  My yoke is easy, and My burden is light."  And My help is careful.  

I'm figuring out what it means to help well.  To really be a burden-easer.  To not just dive into the pool with my wisdom-whistle and understanding-inner-tube.  I'm learning that impractical, irrational, crying, dirty people don't just do beautiful things for the Lord, but they are beautiful things to Him.  I'd smack your face and say very rude things to you if you thought Joel was anything but cherished, wonderful and beautiful.  Even though he was sick and weak.

I'm learning I needed a smack, because the heart-sick, and spiritually-crushed, and emotionally-weak are cherished, wonderful and beautiful.  They didn't needed Jesus to sit them down with a sermon and practical take-home point.  He knew that.  They needed Him.  And that's exactly what He gave. The Lord gives and.

And there is a little scrunch-face with Him right now.  Thank you for helping me.  You're changing the way I help other people - I can't thank you enough.  I can't wait to hang your face on your nephew's wall.

Letters to Baby | Post 23 | Week 28

Dear Boy,

The last letter I wrote you on the blog was a long and hard one.  But a couple of weeks later, you stopped making me sick, you started showing off yourself to the world inside your growing-globe and you would do the greatest swim-flip-turns that almost tickled me.  And I could feel you.

I went from probably the closest thing to despair I've experienced - nothing prepared me for how hard two months of non-stop, intense nauseation would be.  I not only thought "I can't do this ever again.  I'm not having any more children."  I also told dad and grandma... and maybe a few others.  

But then.

Second trimester came.  And first of all, that came with relief and health and NO MORE NAUSEA.  But mostly, second trimester came with all sorts of signs of you.  Just like nothing could have prepped me for the pain of the first few months, nothing adequately prepped me for the bliss of the next few months.

I want 32 children now.  Maybe more. (wink face)

I catch myself thinking to and convincing myself that no one has ever felt this way, or experienced these things.  I must be the only one.  I just.  Can't imagine.  That.  I don't know.  A sensation so great could have been lived out before.  We're probably setting Love Records, little guy!  I know it!  But then I see a mom in a grocery store, focused on buying the cheapest Cheerios.  And her boy tries to reach out and grab a set of plastic straws hanging from the rack.  And she gasps and throws her pad of paper and pen.  Her shriek makes the whole aisle turn and the boy cry.  "Don't do that, Max! You're going to fall!"  She wraps him up and apologizes for startling home and just holds him in the aisle, kissing his cheeks.  "I just don't want you to get hurt.  And CAN'T stand in carts."  The pen rolls under the rack of colorful boxes.  She pushes her cart away, probably forgetting that she never grabbed Cheerios.

I see the older mama at the Guthrie Library with her probably Kindergarten age daughter.  I don't know who is more excited about Amelia Bedelia.  The girl has her special library tote and is so proud to reach up on the counter and slide her newly stamped books into it.  Mama is just happy.  They hold hands walking out to the car.

 I see my own mom, after chemo, asking who can take her to her middle boy's play-off game.  It's all the way in DC.  At 6:00 pm.  The traffic is going to stink.  Dad has a work meeting he can't miss, the other kids have plans they can change... but to go sit in traffic while it's dark to watch a game they'll probably lose?  No one is jumping at the offer.  Mom gets the keys to take herself.  She is not missing this game.  Her baby is playing, and she is going to be there.  My sisters and I eventually take her, and she's the loudest, cutest, fire-cracker-iest fan in the stands.  They win, and my brother scans for her face in the stands, and beelines to her to hug her after the game.

I know I'm not the first woman to be the factory and the home to another human.  I know I'm not the first wife to just lose it when her husband goes bananas over feeling all the different kinds of baby movements - "That was a HUGE one!" "Whoa, is he, like, doing boxing practice in there?" "I think he just gave me a high-five!" I know I'm not the first one to stand, undressed, in a mirror and just stare for whoknowshowlong at my midsection, tracing its new, funny shape.  I know I'm not the first fiercely protective, or blissfully in-love mother.  I know millions - maybe billions - have experienced these things before.

But you know what?  I'm the first to experience them with you, cool kid.
And that certainly makes it different.
Though motherhood has happened over and over, you've never happened before.
This is the first time.

And I don't want to ever forget the firstness and the one-time-ness of everything about you.  

Thank you for making my every-minute sweet, for giving me brand new reasons to love your father more, and thank you, even, for the swollen ankles, heartburn, leg cramps and muscle pain - it means you here, and I'm so glad.

See you soon, camper.

Love, mom.

"Liberty Tree Tavern" | Post 22

"no one's gonna love like I do,

someone should have warned you."

Since my creative-cute-make-the-internet-jealous-and-not-nearly-as-great-as-me-ideas (only partially joking) for the husband + the house have been on strike this winter (I blame pregnancy, dreary un-inspiring coldness and coaching... but we all know this just happens in life.  Sometimes you're on your A-game, and sometimes you're not.  These days, I'm not.) I have to document our "One Year of Being Engaged Iversary" dinner!

Right before he presented me with a ring and a request at DisneyWorld, we ate dinner at my favorite Liberty Tree Tavern.   That dinner was the one where I talked all day about "THE GREEN BEANS!" but Caleb was too distracted to remember, the one where I cried and the waiter had to awkwardly stop pouring water mid-pour because I was so hysterical, the one where I caught Caleb up in the bathroom hallway talking to Lydia about photographing the impending proposal (but didn't think anything of it...?).  It was a good dinner.  I tried to re-create the menu to the best of my ability.   Caleb said my roast was better (Martha's version + one package of ranch seasoning), but their potatoes won.  Game on, potatoes.

The night we got engaged I ate three platefuls (not servings) of green beans, and asked for my own gravy boat.  I would eat their beans + gravy on a daily basis if possible.  

With some classical "Main Street" Disney music playing from the laptop, and a chocolate cake bought from Safeway waiting in the fridge, we dined like we were kids again.  (Full disclosure:  Caleb told me he'd be home at 6:00.  I cook a real-meal so rarely that it never really matters when he gets home, but he's always home when he says he'll be.  I didn't tell him about our dinner plans in the Magic Kingdom, and at 5:30 I got a text saying he wouldn't be home until 7:30.  Shoot.  I turned the oven and stove off, blew out the candles and waited until 7:00 to get things going again.  At 7:00 I turned everything back on... and he walked in the door.  My first response was "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!" Good to see you, too, sweet wife.  

I covered his eyes and made him sit on the stairs for half an hour hahah.  My sisters brought him his outfit - the same J. Crew button-up and khaki shorts he was wearing last year, and I rummaged through my closet to find my floral dress and blue cardigan and neon yellow purse. He changed, but still had sawdust in his hair from work.  

It was cheesy.  And us.  And it's always great fun to see his teary excited/blessed eyes.

After dinner he rubbed my back until I fell asleep and then he stayed up for two more hours drawing architecture plans for our roof while "The Mentalist" kept him company.  

Just an evening I want to remember. It was one of my favorites as a married person.

:)

Why We Didn't Save Our First Kiss For The Wedding Day | Post 21

grace, only grace

can move us to a rhythm that will change our ways

tenth avenue north - grace

If you were to sit down and talk with Caleb and I, we could (and would!) happily share with you our personal convictions.  All of these topics, without proper definitions, explanation, and relationship, could be not just misunderstood, but terribly judged.  When we say any of the following sentences, there are important things we DO mean, and other important things we DO NOT mean.  Someone else could "believe" the same thing we do, and have nearly opposite reasons for why, or a nearly opposite definition for what that conviction is.

We believe in sharing, listening, freedom, conversation and engaging.

We believe that the Spirit works differently in every believer.

We believe Christians should have different beliefs and convictions from each other.

We believe it is dangerous for Christians to believe the exact same thing, on every front.

We are sharing what we believe, not to judge, shame, boast, label or separate.

We are sharing what we believe to say "There are probably parts of this you agree with, and parts you don't.  We think that's good.  And we hope you do, too.  These things are evolving, and we ever learning what they mean and what we mean by them."

We are sharing to say "Don't do what we do, know God and learn from Him, and do what He leads you to do.  This is where He has led us."

We are sharing to say: grace.  

We believe in living debt-free (and we had no idea how to make that happen until we came across this guy).  We believe in paying taxes to the government.  We believe in tithing 10% of our income.  We don't practice birth control and we do 'practice' "Awesome Family Planning" (stolen from Haley at Carrots for Michaelmas).  We are feminists.   We believe in complementary gender roles.  We would 'believe in' public, private and home-schooling for our children.   We 'believe in' dating and not "courtship."  We believe in the right to bear arms (legally own guns).  We are pro-life.  We are pro-small-government.  We 'believe in' personal fashion (women can wear pants, men can have long hair, tattoos are rad if you want them, etc).  We 'believe in' art and creativity.  We 'believe in' and listen to all forms of music - classical, current, religious and 'secular.'   We love The Bachelor.   We believe the Bible is God's recorded story and living Word, and sufficient.  We believe baptism is a sign of salvation.  We believe in modern-day gifts of the Holy Spirit, and that they weren't 'closed' with the Canon.  We believe in the virgin birth, that Jesus was fully man and fully God, and that the incarnation was perhaps the most shocking and important part of The Gospel.  ("Once Jesus was born, death was inevitable.")  We believe grace is real and vast, freedom is truly freeing, and that salvation comes only through believing, not working.  We believe love wins, death died and God over all forever reigns.

We didn't 'believe in' saving our first kiss for our wedding day (or a number of physical activities, for that matter.)

"If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—“Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” —according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom, promoting self-made religion and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.{Colossians 2:20-23}

The Process
For us, it was important to have a natural, gradual, comfortable, building closeness and relationship.  We didn't want to "jump all in too quickly" or unnecessarily "force" ourselves to not do normal, and good things.  There would be (and was) grace for when anything happened "too quick" or when we were being ridiculous and needed to stop over-thinking (like: holding wrists but not holding hands ;).  It was a process.  It brought us closer.  As we tried and talked and considered and cared, we were honest with each other and enjoyed each other.  The trust and love grew with time, conversation, laughter and knowledge.  "There is a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing... He has made everything beautiful in it's time."  We wanted to enjoy the timing, and the "thing" in it's time.  And we realized: the Bible doesn't say much (or anything?) about physical-standards-in-dating-and-engaged-relationships.  There are principles - very important and real and plain principles - but not specifics.

The Story
I'm the sort of person who far more enjoys a surprise, spontaneous date to get tacos than a planned, "romantic, "built-up" date to a dressy restaurant.  Actual, almost always, I enjoy surprise anything to planned anything.  So to plan something as sweet and precious as a first kiss "when we get engaged" or "when we get married," for me, lost some of the magic and excitement of it.  I love that when Caleb asked me out, we hugged, and that was all.  And a different time, we held hands for the first time.  And a different time we said 'I love you.'  And a different time we kissed.  And a different time we _________.  And a different time we ____________.  And a different time we got engaged.  And a different time we became husband and wife.  Those memories (and many more) stand alone, as individual events.  Other than the wedding day (and the engagement, for him) none of these events were scheduled or planned.   Just like meeting him and actually liking him wasn't planned.  It was part of the story and part of the surprise!

The Past 
Our pasts, and mostly lack thereof for us "dating-ly" and physically, played a significant part in our comfort and readiness level.  He, who is two years older than me, hadn't held hands with anyone either.  He knew I'd gone over two decades without holding my crush's hand - ever - and I knew the same for him.   That meant something.  That mattered to us.  I wouldn't have minded holding hands with a couple or even many people before I got married!  It wasn't "that" big a deal to me... but that's how brief my past relationships were: we never even got to a place where I was comfortable holding hands.  

We also both came from very extreme personal legalism.  We both in many ways pridefully boasted in our "I've never messed up in relationships" tale.   I was a judgmental, harsh, honored, burden-placing, goody-two-shoes.  Caleb was a yes-man, a fearful obeyer, a timid speaker, a bound soul, a "perfect from the outside" man.  So for him? For him to hold my hand?  This proved much.  For Caleb, of courtship-first-kiss-on-your-wedding-day-emotional-purity-God-will-speak-and-let-me-know-you-are-the-one-guard-your-heart-keep-it-whole-mindset, to hold my hand when he did not know he was going to marry me?  When he did not know if he "loved" me?  When he did not know God had made our lives to come together forever?  When it was simply a gesture of affection, trust (in me and in God), and desire... it meant something different and entirely significant than it would have to held Other Boy's hand.  It didn't make it better or worse, or "more important" or "less important," or something to do sooner or later, it simply was a fact: we BOTH have never done this in our past.  That affected our physical connection. (Duh.)

The Trust
"Love is unconditional, but trust is something that must be earned."  Eight months after we started "talking" and four months after we started dating, we said and meant "I love you."  We were about five hours away from our homes, and we had roadtripped together for a photoshoot I had in a small PA town.  The shoot was scheduled for the morning, so we went up the night before to make a little date weekend out of it.  We had different places arranged for us to stay.  We dropped off his duffle-bag at his room for the night, and then drove half a mile away to the place where I was staying.  The gorgeous lake home we pulled up to was empty.  The owners were away, but had welcomed me to spend the weekend there.  Caleb and I were alone.  We brought my duffle-bag and camera gear inside.  We watched TV and rested for about 30 minutes to regain energy, and then set off for a walk around the lake around 4:00 pm.  The next few hours were some of the most exhilarating and beautiful of my entire life.  We said "I love you" for the first time.  I felt things I'd never felt before.  I was overwhelmed and trembling and so happy.  After a picnic and just plain magic, we ended up back at "my" empty house - so in love, so happy.  On the car ride up, we decided that Caleb was going to leave my house at 10:00 pm that night.  We weren't concerned that "anything" would happen, but we both have a very, very consistent habit of falling asleep anywhere and I had an early shoot the next morning, followed by a wedding back in Maryland later in the afternoon.  Our biggest concern was that we'd stay up so late talking that we'd fall asleep, miss our alarms, and ruin the schedule the next day.  Keep in mind, on the car ride up we hadn't yet said "I love you" or kissed.  BUT THEN.  This crazy, huge, precious once in a lifetime evening happened!  And 10:00 was coming way too quickly.  And we thought "Eh, 11:00 would be fine?"  And, it could have been fine!  But Caleb said "You know, I said 10:00.  You need to sleep.  Today was amazing.  I can't wait to see you in the morning.  But I will be leaving at 10:00."  It took nearly twenty minutes for him to actually get out the door when 10:00 came.  We hugged by the door, and flirted, and said good-night and "I love you!" 'just one more time' (and did all those things young lovers do).  But we didn't kiss.  He left (almost) at 10:00.  And he earned my trust all over again, like he did every time I was with him.  

My dad thought we were nuts to not kiss on such a perfect evening.  He understood, but mostly just laughed at us.  "Aw, you're trying so hard.  That's very sweet.  But I can't believe you didn't kiss him."

Caleb is really THE most trustworthy person I have EVER met.  He NEVER used privacy, darkness, desires or la-la-la-love to pressure, force, manipulate or test me.  He knew (because he asked and we talked about it) what I was and was not comfortable with all through our relationship.  He truly never "pushed it."  It was incredible.  I know couples who, with a desire and conviction to keep the good biblical principles of wisdom, patience, community, and purity, decided to never be completely alone while they were dating.  Public dates, chaperones, group settings, daylight, always in somebody's eyesight.  And if that was their personal conviction, I think that's cool!  And I respect it so much.

For me, however, I was WOW-ED with Caleb's trustworthiness when we were in private, alone, dark, unwatched places.  No one would have seen if Caleb had decided to stay at the lakehouse later - or all night.  No one was around to raise their eyebrows if Caleb had kissed me and we had wound up in one of the five bedrooms.  No one was waiting at home for Caleb to make sure he did walk in the door that night.  That proved his trustworthiness to me... gosh... like I just can't explain.  It proved to me that if we did get married someday, and he found himself in some compromising or alluring situation, he COMPLETELY has the character to walk out.  It wasn't just that he "avoided bad situations" and hopefully he could avoid "all the bad situations" in marriage, too.  No.  We were on an overnight trip, all by ourselves, very madly in love, and kiss-and-most-other-things-virgins, and he kept his word.   He didn't make me feel unloved, rejected or like a giant stumbling block.  He made me feel dear, valuable, and very very important.

Because he was this sort of guy, we were able to enjoy a LOT while we were dating, without trampling our convictions, standards and principles from the Bible we cared about so much.   And we showed each other that we were worthy of the other's trust, and that we did indeed trust the other.  It was a beautiful unfolding.

The Fun
We discovered that there is a LOT you can do that is just so much plain FUN!  We were almost afraid that, well, you know, once you START, once you KISS, there is just NO stopping what happens next. You'll be accidentally pregnant before you know it!  Or at least steeped in sin...!  And you know what? I believe that is very true, a lot of the time.  Lust and desire to be loved and pressure do crazy things.  And in an unhealthy relationship, I bet you could cross some bridges rather quickly.  I also think people can innocently, in very caring relationships, end up thinking "Wow.  How did we get here?"  It really can all get moving very quickly.  But, again, for us, we realized:  we don't have to cross the bridge, and we don't have to stand here staring at the bridge, we can swim across!  Swimming was slower than walking/running/driving.  But man, it was refreshing!  And fun!  And our "relationship muscles" got stronger as we swam... in every category.   We were learning, together, how to love without fear and without guilt.   We were also learning how to love with wisdom and self-control.  It was great!  We got to play, tan, splash, race, float, noodle fight, tread and improve.  We didn't feel out of control.  We didn't feel unable to stop ourselves.  We mostly felt like "Man, this is fun!"  We also didn't feel shame or guilt.  And if we did?  We talked about it.  We were not perfect.  We overstepped boundaries we set for ourselves at times, and quickly and joyfully remembered grace, mercy, forgiveness and liberty.

My point isn't to say "These are the things appropriate for the early stages of dating, and these things are appropriate for engaged couples, and these things are appropriate only for marriage."  My point is: there is fun, delight, joy and happiness in doing "little" things with someone for the first time, and we, at least, think it's important to savor each bite and not starve or scarf.  That's not healthy.

The Pace
We fell in love fairly quickly, and (because they are very different things...!) we also knew that we wanted to get married fairly quickly (about a year after we met each other - some would say that's quick, others would say that's slow.)  We didn't feel rushed or forced to get married (my parents, especially my dad, actually thought it would be better for us to wait longer.  "God never really seems to be in hurry.  Take your time building a foundation.  If you know this is it, there is especially no rush.")  My dad's psychology professor said that the definition of personal maturity is "not attaining a certain level, but rather when how you view yourself and who you really are are the same."  We talked about that often.  "Is how we think of our relationship really where our relationship is at?"  "Do we think we're supposed to get married, but in reality we're just human, sexual, 20-somethings who want to get'er'done without feeling guilty?  Or who are tired of being alone, so we'll settle for anyone decent?"  "Are there things I'm afraid to share with you or give to you, but because I don't want to break-up or deal with the problems our relationship has?"  "Does everyone else think this is so perfect, and we are just going along with it because it's easier than disappointing 'everyone'?"

We were brutally honest with each other.  We said things to each other that to this day only we know.  We and God.  Not sweet nothings.  Serious, tearful things.  We laid our relationship flat out: You aren't what I was expecting.  You are quieter and not as funny as I was dreaming.  You don't want to live in my hometown and you yell and refuse to back down in an argument.  You are so stupid sometimes.  You are so mean sometimes.  You are a people pleaser!  You are a bulldozer!  I love you.  I love you, too!  We didn't want to force "us" to work.  We almost wanted to give "us" every reason not to work - and see how we did ;)  And truthfully, we really were just so good together.  With all our idiosyncrasies, messes, weird sense of humors, and aspirations we worked.  Really well.  We had the best-friend, look-up-to-you-respect, sizzling inner fires trifecta.  And it happened fast, in my opinion.  18 months isn't very long.  But.  It was just right for us!  All of that to say: our friendship/relationship pace set the tone for our physical/relationship pace.  EVERYONE WILL BE DIFFERENT.

The Off-Chance We Were Horrible Kissers

Really, I was mortified at the thought of puckering up for the FIRST TIME EVER, in front of grandparents, pastors, children, adults who changed my diapers, my girlfriends (?!?!?!), my new in-laws, my little brother, my MOM.  What if I kissed like hummingbird wings?  What if we were teeth-clunkers or nose-bumpers or puffer-fish-blowers?  I have no real conviction on this, it just made me stomach turn to imagine an audience of lifelong friends with bulging eyes and restrained laughter.  I didn't want that kind of pressure for my first kiss.  Nor did I want that kind of pressure for our engagement, either.  Good thing, because I could not stand up or speak, let alone collapse into a passionate first kiss.  I also know people (personally and from reading) who actually didn't like their first kiss at the altar.  "Weird" and "gross" and "peck" and "nasty" were words I had heard from their mouths.  (Granted, I also know many people who RAVE about their first kiss on their wedding day, and wouldn't have wanted it ANY other way.  That's awesome!) That didn't sound... happy... to me.  I hoped for a very precious memory of my first kiss, and "ew, gross" wasn't exactly what I had in mind.   No no.  I'm so glad our first kiss happened in private, with no one else around.  We have no idea if it was terrible or adorable.  But we loved it.

ALSO.  We didn't want to feel guilty if we did kiss.  Look.  It's normal.  You should want to smooch the guy you love.  Smooching the guy you like might prompt some "love."  It really, in the grand scheme of life and God and eternity, wasn't something worth getting our knickers in a knot about.  We, because of the perfect love we've been gifted from God, wanted so much to love the other person well. And it's scary when you think you might be doing something to harm, hurt or not-love that person.  And going on a few dates, and "dating", and dating-but-we-are-ready-to-get-engaged, and engaged are all such different things.   Caleb and I are such different people than you are.  Than your friends are.  Than you will be.

We love that people all around us have very different single, dating and newlywed advice, regrets, successes.  We love listening and learning from their relationships.  It would have been wrong of us to do exactly what someone else did or counseled just because they said so.  It would be lazy.  It would be based off of fear and not because of the Holy Spirit working in our hearts.  And it would be confusing. Because we heard things literally across the board: 'you're WAY too physical' to 'you're so strict and rigid.'  "You're like the whore of Babylon!" "You're an inexperienced clueless prude!" Touche! ;)

It was the perfect topic for us to start hearing from others, figuring out whose counsel mattered most to us, whose marriages we most wanted to learn from, and to learn how to make decisions for ourselves, in an honest, vulnerable and clear-minded way.  To not just "give the appearance of wisdom" by being "severe with our bodies" but to actual learn how to think, discern and be wise together.  To:

"Let love be genuine. 
hold fast to what is good.  [ps. I think strong chests are very good.  So I obeyed ;)]
Love one another with brotherly affection. 
Outdo one another in showing honor. 
Do not be slothful in zeal, 
be fervent in spirit, 
serve the Lord. 
Rejoice in hope, 
be patient, 

be constant in prayer. 

Live in harmony with one another. "

February 25, 2012 | Post 20

I had no idea that it was going to be the best day of my life.

I had no idea he'd been shopping for a ring.

I had no idea he'd bought a ring.

I had no idea he'd asked for my dad's hand in marriage.

I had no idea he'd had a few foiled attempts at this day already.

I had no idea he was sweating hotdogs during this picture because I told him to take his North Face off, and when he did I tossed it on the ground in front of the glow-in-dark alien toys.

I had no idea this was in the pocket of his North Face.

 

I had no idea that he had been secretly saving money.

I had no idea he'd been deleting all of his phone calls with the jeweler, then "calling" about 25 different people after he deleted the jeweler call.  To fill back up his iPone "all calls" feed.  Because he knew I'd be suspicious if I saw an empty que. 

I had no idea he had had meetings at my friend's houses to make sure I'd like the ring.

I had no idea he was in touch with my best friend Lydia - all day long.

I had no idea Lydia was in Orlando, Florida, too.

I had no idea my mom was in on it - because I pressed her and hinted at it, and she shut down my guesses ;)

I had no idea that he knew me so well.

 I had no idea WHY he was so squirmy and quiet before the fireworks started.
I had no idea the situation I caused when I asked to wear his North Face because I was cold.

I had no idea how my heart would race, and my body would fall-apart, when he asked me to be his forever.

 

I had no idea the amount of feeling and capacity my heart had for pure happiness.

I had no idea a heart was capable of thudding so hard, so quickly, so long, without a person dying.

I had no idea that getting engaged was going to feel so different from talking about and "knowing" we were going to get married.

I had no idea I could possibly love a symbol of love so much.

I had no idea I could love another person so much.

 I had no idea.

 And I have a feeling, I still don't, really.

But he is my best decision.

And I have no idea how I get to be his,

and how he gets to be mine.

It's a very good thing.