baby triv

Baby Trivits!

Due Nov 18!

(Lord willing!)

As you may or may not have seen or heard, Kevin and I are expecting!  We are incredibly excited and are absolutely overjoyed/overwhelmed that God would bless and trust us with this enormous responsibility.  

I realize a blog post is neither necessary nor consequential to many/most/all of you... but I wanted to give a heads up as to what you can expect from me, an expectant mother (oh, wow).  Or maybe, rather, what you can not expect.

Please do not expect me to post:

Tummy pictures... (monthly, or ever - yuck! I'm doing you a favor.)

Ultrasound pictures... (although I know my mom already posted one... I'll let that one slide... haha)

Any gratuitous statuses about cravings, morning sickness, and babies babies babies... (one of my goals for this year was to cut down on "public" complaining/whining, and I know no one cares that all I really want to eat is apple sauce and oatmeal.)

Don't get me wrong, I realize that it is good and healthy and appropriate and exciting to gush your newfound joy over being pregnant and the thought of having a child in the near future.  But seeing friend after pregnant friend plastering their news (and, may I say, rather personal and private business) all over facebook while until very recently, Kevin and I had struggled with the fact that we - seemingly - were not able to have a baby... it's actually rather hurtful.  I know I still have plenty of friends in that stage (waiting to conceive), and those who are struggling through/with infertility.  I want to be so very, very sensitive to that.  

It's ironic that two weeks ago, I was in the process of writing a blog about our inability to conceive, addressing those of you who rather indiscreetly and carelessly (however unintentionally) "gloat" over your blessed news... and the day after, I discovered I was pregnant.  So, while that blog will not be posted, I hope that the spirit of it is clearly established.

Basically, I don't want to be an annoying pregnant girl who rubs it in the faces of all I'm friends with.  I don't want to clog up a newsfeed.  I don't want to cause anyone to despair because I'm in a different situation than they are. 

But, all that being said, PLEASE:  Congratulate us!  Pray for us!  Rejoice with us!  But... do it in person.  Or send me a text or email or handwritten card!  Let's be more personal with all this personal stuff.  

Soli Deo Gloria!

faretheewell

This morning, I am saddened to hear the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI: a man I believe to be a truly great Christian leader, with such influence, in this ever-darkening world.  Having read his Jesus of Nazareth trilogy this past year, I found myself inspired by his compassion and heart for the world, his devotion to Scripture and orthodoxy, and his personal relationship with his Savior Jesus Christ.  

Having not paid much attention to the former bishop of Rome (to my detriment, I think; I was young, not denominationally Catholic, etc), I'm sorry that I cannot speak to Pope John Paul II's greatness.  However, I do know that the Church is losing yet another godly man as shepherd in Joseph Ratzinger.  I pray that the man who succeeds him will be in the same spirit and direction.

he's just not that into you

This movie...

While hugely entertaining, and a rather incisive view into our generation's view of relationships and dating...

Angers me on so many levels.

The dating stuff, I think, is true.  Accurate, and relatable.

But the view portrayed of marriage is disheartening. 

(Understatement.)

Just two quotes to consider:

People who get married are not to be trusted. You know why? Because if you were legitimately happy, honestly you wouldn't feel the need to make a big show out of it. You wouldn't have to broadcast it. They do it because they're insecure and because they think that getting married is what they're supposed to be doing now. And so they're lying to themselves and they're lying to others. 

OK. There was this guy who worked in my dad's printing business. Married for 15 years to a nice lady. And then he meets this woman at some church event. And he told my dad he just had never felt anything like it before. I mean, he had finally met the love of his life. So, he divorced his wife, and he's been with this other woman for 22 years and they are blissfully happy. I mean, what if you meet the love of your life - but you already married someone else? Are you supposed to pass them by?

As a young-married that sees and experiences the sometimes daily struggle to remain faithful in marriage, I find this generation (and the generation or two before us) just doesn't get it.  That marriage means commitment.  Faithfulness.  For life.

It's not about finding personal happiness.
It's about making a choice to stay with the one you've committed to, to contribute and work towards one another's personal happiness.
It's not a selfish thing.
It's not about giving up once you've found the 'love of your life' after you say I do.  
It's about forsaking all others.
And it's difficult.

It's hard in this day and age when we're bombarded with movies like this that glamorize sexy affairs and selfish relationships.  It hurts my heart, and causes me to despair.  Because I, too, selfishly want that.  Romance that is forbidden.  New and exciting relationships.  

But I'm not stupid.  And I'm not lazy.  I truly buy into the idea that my husband and I have made a lifetime commitment to each other.  And though it will most certainly take work to keep our relationship exciting and new, I believe that it is worth it.  It makes me sad that other people don't see that.  That marriage is undervalued and misunderstood.

That all being said, the movie ends well.  The dude who has an affair is left by both his mistress and his wife.  And the couple who has been together for years and years finally decides to get married.  "The good end happily, and the bad unhappily.  That is what fiction means," to quote my friend Mr Wilde.  

I, however, fear that the truth is stranger (rather, sadder) than fiction.  In real life, marriage is treated as a temporary institution, one of convenience or fleeting romantic ideals.  But it isn't.  Marriage matters.  Real, life-long commitment and faithfulness matters.

2013 Goals and Resolutions

Oh Calvin.  You get me.

But seriously, I have such a hard time with goals.  Meeting goals, that is.  Making them is fairly easy.  I get distracted.  I unprioritize and reprioritize.  I get lazy.  I don't wanna read x amount of books, or write x amount of sonnets.  Let's see how this year goes, then, when I make goals that are less easily measured.

1. Talk on the phone more, and in doing so, defeat my fear of the thing.
2. Stop saying the word "annoying", and in doing so, be less easily annoyed.  (It's good in theory.)
3. Do not complain, whine, or gossip.  Ever.  (Except maybe to Kevin.  That's basically like talking to myself.)
4. Finish all the books I left half-done in 2012.  There are quite a few of 'em.
5. Read more fiction.
6. Read more classics.
7. Play and teach piano.  (Seriously.  This one is happening, and I'm a bit nervous about it!)
8. Take voice lessons again.  (Yikes!  If I can find the time for it, I wanna make this one happen!)
9. Move into a house!
10. Be a better wife and friend.
11. Support and encourage Kevin.  (Sometimes I forget he has to verbally process and dream.)
12. Write more letters.
13. Spend more structured time praying and in the Scriptures.
14. Be more assertive.
15. Stand up straighter.
16. Be more active.
17. Cook more, and learn to bake.
18. Be spontaneous.
19. Watch less TV.
20. Don't take short-cuts out of laziness.

abiding at advent

'Tis the season.  

Advent.

The coming of our Lord.

The great miracle of Incarnation.

The monumental shift of history.

And how do we celebrate?

By waiting.

Hoping.

Preparing.

We look forward in anticipation, certainly,

but these actions are hardly exciting - or even active, for that matter.

Not what you might expect for an event so huge we're still talking about it millennia after the fact.

Celebration, this season, is mere attitude, perspective, or inward reflection and preparation?

And yet, no amount of active striving will make Christmas come any sooner.

I feel this way sometimes.  

No, rather often.

That my life is just a waiting game.

It's all about to change, 

truly, everything is about to change.

The coming year will hold great things.

But I'm in-between.

I'm here, the important and monumental life-changing-points are out there.

Out there, beyond my control.

I can use no 'exciting' or 'active' verbs to get myself closer.

No striving will make it happen sooner.

It's a waiting game.

Hoping.

Preparing.

But what if this next big thing is just like the last big thing?

I reach it (finally), 

adjust, get comfortable with the change, 

and then I'm in-between again.

It's like the slight let-down after Christmas. 

All the presents are unwrapped, and there are no more surprises.

Ah, well - 365 days till next Christmas.

Maybe what I'm trying to process is the idea that maybe Advent is trying to teach me something else.

A different lesson altogether than just waiting, hoping and preparing.

Maybe the lesson I'm learning is to abide.

That because of (and in spite of) my hopes, even when the end is in sight,

it is possible to live in a state of perpetual contentment, and active progress.

This is my own type of preparation.  

Continuing, progressing through time in a particular condition or attitude.

At this moment, 

I could very easily launch into a trite tirade on how we should live as if every day is Christmas.  

That's not what I want, though, really.

I can't live every moment as if it's a mountain-top experience, 

a monumental change in history.

How exhausting.

I just want to be ready for those moments, 

while still loving and living the life that I have.

Make the most of the in-betweens.

The periods of waiting.

Celebrate Advent.

marriage is risky

There is no safe investment.

To love at all is to be vulnerable.

Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken.

So says Jack, my friend and pedagogue, in his The Four Loves.  And I find this to be true.  You may have read one of my previous posts sharing part of my story about finding God and what it means to let Him love me.  It is one thing to be vulnerable before the Almighty God, who will never leave or forsake, but another thing altogether to be vulnerable before another fallible, faulty, and self-serving human being. 

Marriage is risky.

I am a messy person.  Not externally - like in our home, leaving clothes everywhere, dishes undone, the bathroom mirror ajar - that's his specialty.  Inwardly, privately, though, I am a mess.  There are unresolved issues that I like to keep to myself.  Marriage doesn't really allow that.  Not really.  All I am is his - including my mess.  And vice versa.  

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Vulnerable can mean "to be open to attack."  Completely exposed.  Messes bared.  Wholly at the mercy of someone else.  What a risk.

What a risk to place yourself in dependence of another, to willingly subject yourself to someone who is not you.  Who does not think as you do.  Who has not experienced what you have, and may not understand that.  

What a risk to invest your energy, will and emotion, and your very life to a person who will break your heart without trying or thinking.  

What a risk to know that you are in that same position to him, in a position to so easily break his heart, though he may not ponder the situation as analytically as you do.  

Let me finish the paragraph I started at the top:

There is no safe investment.

To love at all is to be vulnerable.

Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken.

If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, 

you must give your heart to no one,

not even to an animal.

Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries;

avoid all entanglements;

lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.

But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change.

it will not be broken; 

it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation.

The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe 

from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

You see?  The opposite of vulnerability is impenetrability.  Refusing to be vulnerable is refusing to be understood. You are completely inaccessible.  The fear of being vulnerable is similar to the fear of being unloved, but at the expense of being known.  If you are unknown by the one that you love (or fear to love), there is no hope for love in the relationship at all.  And this shortcoming is magnified in marriage.

Marriage is a religion.  It is a devotion founded on faith and trust and love, but based upon the love of Christ for each individual rather than the individual's ability to love on his or her own.  Perhaps, then, it is a parable for religion.  It is not safe; it is profoundly risky.  And that's love.  That's life.

why my husband is the sweetest man alive

So, last night, I'm working the closing shift at Starbucks.  It's snowing.

We had just locked the store so we could finish cleaning, counting drawers, etc... and we see two sets of headlights shining through the windows.  We rolled our eyes because it's obnoxious when people try to get in when we're already closed.  The cars sit there a while.

I take a closer look: it's my husband (in gym shorts) heating up my car and scraping the windshield for me.  My coworker (a guy) turns to me and says, "Well, that is literally the sweetest thing I've ever seen.  What a great guy, geez."

Adorable, right?  Just wait - it gets better.

I arrive back at our flat, where Kevin has prepared me dinner.  He ushers me to the couch, where he has my favorite book sitting next to a bottle of my favorite pinot grigio.  A playlist of Michael Buble, John Mayer, and Air Supply was on softly.

So very, very sweet.

Then, he prepared a foot bath.  My feet soaked while I read my favorite book, sipped wine, and ate popcorn (because he knows and loves me that much), and while he kept the pup occupied in the other room, I got my relaxation on.

But, guess what, there's even more.

He gave me a pedicure.  He literally scrubbed my feet.

He didn't even know what a pedicure was, apparently, and had to be told by the ladies at Bath and Body Works (where he bought all the lavender- and vanilla-scented goodness).  He did this for me.  Out of the blue.  For absolutely no reason whatsoever.  It was a Thursday night, for goodness' sake!

And THIS is why my husband is the sweetest man alive.