Five Years

Dearest T.,

Five years ago we had a change of plans in our lives, didn't we? Saying goodbye in a Shreveport hospital room was not something either of us had remotely thought about or planned for -- you were supposed to be going to Afghanistan, we were planning what to get the kids for Christmas, and I was concerned you might deploy before Bud's first birthday. We had barely finished the Thanksgiving leftovers; in fact, they might have still been in the refrigerator when the kids and I packed up to follow the helicopter that would take you to better medical care north of our home at Fort Polk. I always thought that, if you knew that you died in Louisiana, you would've been mad that I hadn't insisted that you be flown to a hospital just over the state line into Texas -- not really angry, but you really didn't like Louisiana. I guess none of us have any control over when these moments in life occur, do we?

Five years ago I was bracing for Afghanistan, our first deployment not just as a couple but as a family with small children who were going to miss Daddy. I was wondering how we were going to remember to work you into our daily routines in absentia, how to keep in touch with you so that the distance would be easier for all of us, how to make the house feel like you had only just walked out the door instead of realizing you had been gone for months and months. I was bracing, like all military spouses, for the possibility that the last time I saw you could be the last time I saw you. I attended the briefings about Casualty Assistance, knew who to call for emergencies, and things like that. I was trying to prepare our home and my heart for the worst but hope and pray for the best.

Five years ago I was a frazzled, tired mother of two toddlers. You were all that as well as the first commander of a brand new company in a fledgling battalion. I have to chuckle when I think about all the characters in our company and all the drama you and First Sargeant had to deal with, especially the infamous Tylenol Kid. From FRGs to the dreaded Christmas wrapping volunteering at the PX (remember, that was our last phone conversation?), from two times the dirty diapers to being sick of eating spaghetti, our lives were busy. Happy, but busy.

Five years ago Li'l G was two and a half -- definitely a Daddy's girl who had you wrapped around her chubby little finger. Bud was only nine months old but a very active little guy who you predicted would be walking by Christmas. Did you ever get to see him walk? Turns out you were right -- he took his first steps two weeks after you died.

Five years ago you lost the fight for your life, but not the way you might've thought, off on a dusty, cold, windswept mountain plain in Southwest Asia. I think I felt you slip away. Maybe you were trying to tell me goodbye, but I can't be sure. But something woke me at 6:40 that morning, and time stood still. Only when we got to the hospital hours later did they tell me what happened during the 7 AM shift change. Was that you? I cannot help but think that it was, and I am so thankful for that experience. It has been such a precious memory these last five years.

Five years ago I watched the doctors perform the last tests to see if you were still alive. I watched as they moved quickly from one to the other, each time with no response from your body. The last thing they did was turn off the breathing machine. I watched quietly, but inside my head I was screaming at you as loud as I could: "JUST BREATHE! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS BREATHE! IN AND OUT! JUST BREATHE!" It was then that I realized that was the one thing you could not do. I was not used to seeing you fail at something. You would make up your mind you were going to do something, and almost every time you were successful. Remember how you had just started training for a marathon? Why couldn't your strong, young body do this one thing? I remember looking at you and thinking this wasn't real and not really happening, but then again, it was happening.

Five years ago your brother and sister lost their hero. Your mother and father's hearts shattered into a million pieces. My family lost another son and brother. Your buddies lost a fellow Rough Rider. Your soldiers lost their commander. Your children lost their father. I lost the love of my life.

Five years ago you arrived, in a robe washed white with the blood of the Lamb, at the foot of the throne of grace. The pain and struggles you endured in this life scattered like leaves in the fall caught in a whirling wind as you took your first steps on heavenly feet. I know Grandpa was waiting for you with a huge smile on his face. Have you felt warm rushes wash over you like gentle waves at the beach? That has been the love I send your way each time I think of you and miss you.

Five years ago it felt as if my life had ended, too. What were we going to do? We needed you. We had nothing without you. Lost. In a word that is how I felt. As I lay prostrate on the bathroom floor and begged God to take this cup from me, not as I willed but as God willed, I, too, felt scattered to the wind, out of control, flung out a window and falling like a rock. That's where I was five years ago.

Five years has gone by, and I hope and pray that God has allowed you to see some of the steps we've made forward from that point in time. There are still some days where I can't believe you were here and now are gone, still so surreal. Then there are days when I feel as though we are face to face once again in a twinkle in Bud's mischievous grin or in the lifted eyebrow of Li'l G. I look at the shape of her hands, the toes and arches of his feet and realize you are there in the very DNA of our children. They both love your mom's pumpkin bread, too, and Bud has always loved hot salsa just like you. And Bud has most definitely got your sense of humor -- he is the jokester of the family.

Five years has gone by, and I hope and pray that it didn't break your heart to see me move on. It has been no easy task. It has been incredibly painful to love you and him at the same time, differently but similarly. I want him to know that I am his wife now, but I will always love you, too. I want you to know that you have not been replaced in my heart or my life. I have been so very blessed to have you both in my life. I hope you approve of how we are raising the children. He loves these kids and does a great job of being a father.

Five years ago I'd have never thought I would be writing you this letter. The pain of losing you will always be a part of me but is somehow evolving over the years. I hope and pray that you won't forget me, the kids, your friends and family who carry precious memories of you close to their hearts. We have not forgotten you.

Love Always,

Kim

P.S. -- Remember our song? Still a good one, Schmupps. :)

Ho! Ho! NO!!!: Why I Won't Skip Past Thanksgiving and Start The Christmas Season Early

I don't know what got into me, but for some reason I felt led to post this status recently on my FaceBook account: "I boycott [the] Christmas-before-Thanksgiving movement." The first response posted to that was, "Where is the dislike button?" I knew there would be more of those type responses than not. I wasn't trying to provoke people or judge those who put up trees a month or two early or listen to Christmas music the day after Halloween. I can even hear the argument coming that we should be focusing on Christ's birth, so what, then, is the harm in extending the Christmas season a little longer than just the month of December?

Many of you who know me personally or through this blog know that I lost my first husband just days after Thanksgiving. This year will mark five years that he has been gone. We were married for five years and four months. I've been without him almost as long as I was married to him, which seems so odd to me, but that is a whole other blog. It has taken a while for the joy of Thanksgiving to seep back into my heart, but I think it's definitely getting there. Last year my new husband proposed the night before Thanksgiving. He said that he knew that this time of year was not easy for me, but also felt that this was the right time to propose and begin happy memories together. As hard as this time of year always feels, he was exactly right -- we have started to reclaim this time of year as a time of love, happiness, and togetherness as it always had been in my life.

Why, if this holiday and this time of year has so much anguish and bittersweet associated with it, do I want to anticipate it so singularly? Why would I put myself through the torture of facing this hailstorm of emotions, simultaneously sweet and sorrowful, each and every year? Why not focus on the coming King, the Christ child? Why not put others' needs and delights in my crosshairs to keep me in the Christmas spirit?

I believe that to grieve the dead is a holy honor, a duty, a labor of our love. And I cannot only think of T. here. I think of the roll call of people I love -- not loved -- who no longer share this meal with me each year. I think of T.'s easy laughter when I would be flustered about some kind of drama with the family or preparations of the day. I think of seeing the ivory-colored Ford truck pulling up to our house hours before the meal was to be served, before my mom had brushed her teeth or bathed for the day, and my grandparents getting out and coming in to a house that smelled of roasted turkey. I remember the straw hat and blue coveralls my grandfather would wear, how loud the television would be so he could hear it. I can remember my grandmother walking in with more than one dish of her dressing, the crowning glory of our feast. Remembering this day, these people takes me back to a time when life was simpler, straightforward, and I felt safe and loved. Why, for the love of all things sacred, would I be in a hurry to gloss past this? When I think about the blessing that these people were to me then and how they continue to be now, I cannot imagine giving this holiday second billing.

Thanksgiving is also a time for humility. Am I the only person these days who can still comprehend the first five or six letters in the name of this holiday?!? How could I not want to stop to take the time and bless my family with a meal prepared in love, thanks, and humility when they are such precious gifts to me from God? How could I possibly want to fast-forward past one more opportunity to tell my God thank you for not forgetting me, for lifting my head when I was too weak to lift it off my heavy chest, for blessing me with love and life, for ministering to me through children, parents, and friends?

If I could rewrite the calendars, I would more than likely emphasize things like Advent and Lent -- seasons of reflection and preparation -- over their culminating holidays. Christmas and Easter should be something we celebrate and partake of every single day of our lives as Christians. I can buy someone a gift any time; I don't need Toys R Us or Barnes and Nobles to remind me to remember others. I won't get into a sermon about how materialistic our society is. I think we all have a good grip on the world in which we live, and how we, too, regardless of how much we like to rail against it, are just as guilty of falling into this trap to various degrees, myself included. I just wish that we would be in less of a hurry to "get past" Thanksgiving some days. Thanksgiving isn't just a holiday or a meal. It is an orientation of the heart.

Down Home Goodness

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been ages since I've blogged. What's new?!? I'm still trying to get pregnant, recently ran in the Army Ten Miler, and found out I have osteoarthritis. So now I take prenatal vitamins and Osteo-Bi-Flex. Ah, the ironies of being 34. I know I owe everyone a poignant look back on 33 since I have just recently celebrated a birthday, and so many things have happened or changed in the last 365+ days, but that simply must wait for another day.

I have found another awesome cookbook!


I love this one already even thought I've only prepared one meal out of it. Here's the scenario of my life these days: Get rolling in the morning -- kids up, dressed, fed. Dog up, pottied, fed, pottied again, walked if possible. Make coffee, pack lunches, write notes. Get self dressed -- either brush teeth or hair, not time for both. Get kids to bus stop. Walk dog. Prepare self for day. BTW -- by this time it's 0900. Depending on the day of the week, I might be volunteering at the kids' school, rehearsing with my praise team friend for PWOC, attending PWOC, or taking the dog to obedience. 1530 marks the afternoon trek to the bus stop. Then get kids home, potty dog again, feed kids snack, work on homework. Feed and potty dog (again). Then comes "extracurriculars" -- violin and tae kwon do. Somewhere in there we have to squeeze in 20 minutes of reading for the kids, home cooked meal where we are all seated around the dinner table for some face time, then it's off to take showers and hit the hay. I am just now, two months into the schoolyear, able to feel as though we have a regular routine, but I hate it when we eat late on school nights, and we eat out enough on weekends as it is. We do not do fast food, so it's either me cooking meals or us going to a restaurant for dinner. While I really love to eat out, it's significantly more practical and economical to cook at home, plus I really enjoy cooking and feel as though I have served my family properly when I put a home cooked meal on the table. WHY, then, is it so blessed hard to cough up yummy, amazing meals in a timely fashion on a schoolnight?!? Enter the need for crock pot magic.

I don't always like what comes out of crockpot cooking. It can be singed and have that icky-wet-burnt taste all too often. I have a couple of slow cooker cookbooks, but I only have a handful of recipes in there that I like, much less have ever cooked. But this cook book has so many sticky notes in it already of stuff I want to try that I should've just dogeared the pages I didn't want to try -- looks.that.good.

There are two more cool things about this book:

1) Stephanie O'Dea has a blog as well. Go check it out here!
2) Due to someone in their family having this dietary need, all of her recipes are or can be made gluten free. She also has great vegetarian dishes in there that I, a strict carnivore, would be honored to eat.

So tonight we made the pizza soup -- delish! It was a great way to clean out the fridge and make something cozy and warm on a cold fall afternoon that we could eat prior to extracurricular activities and still stand a chance of getting to bed on time. Basically think of your favorite pizza toppings in a soup that is tomato-based. I served it with shredded mozzarella and crusty bread. Not only did we wolf it down, I was also able to freeze leftovers. SCORE! Or, as His Girl says, POW!

Lastly, the whole reason why I have opted to try this out is my earnest attempt at striving to be more like a Proverbs 31 woman, serving my husband honorably, raising my children to be Godly and healthy, keeping my home prepared and hospitable. So many days it can be a daunting, if not overwhelming task. I want so badly to "get it right" and pray every day that God will help me to spend my time wisely and efficiently. I think often of one of my heroines from the Old Testament, Abigail, wife of Laban. When Abigail saw David and his men approaching to collect their payment from her husband, she told her helpers to bring out food and prepared lambs to welcome these unexpected guests, trying to intercept a potentially problematic situation. David acknowledged her wisdom (and eventually married her). Also, Abigail's husband and my husband have nothing in common, praise God, but what I love about Abigail is that she is an example of a woman who prepared her household for anything to come up. When things arose, she was ready to spring into action and have the appropriate response. She managed her time and her household well. Lord, help me to be more like Abigail!

I know I can't be perfect, but I know that, with God's help, I can strive to be better than I was yesterday. There is always room for improvement, and it is the joy of my life to serve and nurture my family. I hope this cookbook can be a blessing for my family and other families as well!

"10 [b]A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. 11 Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. 12 She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. 13 She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. 14 She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. 15 She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. 16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. 17 She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. 18 She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. 19 In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. 20 She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. 21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. 22 She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. 23 Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. 24 She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. 25 She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. 26 She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. 27 She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. 28 Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: 29 “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” 30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. 31 Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." -- Proverbs 31:10(b)-31 (NIV)

A Dream Deferred

In the immortal words of Langston Hughes...

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

When the answers to our prayers are "no" or "not yet", what happens to those questions in our hearts? Or our faith in God? Do they wither like the overripe fruit on the vine? Do our hearts become rotten or infected? Maybe they become leaden and take us to the depths of despair. Or do they fill with anguish to the point of bursting?

I came to realize last week that our dream of having another baby has been deferred. R. and I discussed baby names over lunch before we went to our first OB appointment. Today we were going to hear Baby K's heartbeat for the first time, and I for one could hardly stand the suspense. I was ready to pull down my pants in the waiting room and grab the gel and doppler and find the heartbeat myself. In my mind, things aren't official and fine until that first sound of a strong heartbeat, so needless to say I was anxious.

The midwife searched for a while, and after no success, got us an appointment to have an ultrasound because she knew I would worry until I heard the heartbeat. Once we got settled into the ultrasound room, the tech worked for 45 straight minutes, pressing so hard into my flesh that I thought she was going to break the skin. I'm fairly certain I didn't breathe that entire time. She excused me to the bathroom at one point so we could try something different. As I walked in there and shut the door, the knot in my throat was neary choking me. I prayed that God would be with me again like the time in Shreveport when T. died. I could tell this day was not going to end well.

In the end, I was almost 10 weeks along, but the baby measured 7 weeks and did not have a heartbeat. My worst nightmare had come true. This little one had left us as quietly as he or she had come. No idea about the gender of the baby. No idea whose eyes or nose it had. So many questions and no answers.

The following day I had to have a D&C. I was emotionally wrenched, physically exhausted, and completely scared about the procedure. I was so blessed to have wonderful doctors and nurses attending to me, and an OB who was kind and gentle with his words and presence. Physically I have felt very good, as good as can be expected after it's all said and done.

But emotionally this is still such a punch to the gut. R. was holding my hand in the pre-op area, being both my strength and my comfort through his own anguish. I've never seen a man with such a tender heart and positive, firm resolve at the same time. I absolutely could not have endured this without him emotionally and physically by my side. We both agreed that it is so amazing how much you can love someone that you've never met. And the fact that he's ready to try again as soon as the doctor gives us the obstetric "green light" blesses me so much. I am so thankful that God placed this wonderful man in my life, and I feel that we are even closer now as we go through this experience together. Being a pessimist by nature, I believe that God is using R. to encourage me to have hope and to not let this deferred dream ache longer than it should, or to allow it to spiral my heart down to miry depths.

Another person witnessing hope to me is my son, Bud. Li'l G took the news harder than he did, but Bud is the minister of prayer in our home, taking charge of blessing our meals ever since he was just a little pipsqueak. Now, at every meal after asking the blessing, he asks God to take care of our baby and to send us another one. *sniff, sniff* Didn't Jesus ask us to have childlike faith? If my five year-old can trust in God to handle this situation and bless our family according to God's will, certainly so can I.

My heart still yearns to have the little one we lost, but it is even more hopeful of happiness to come. In the meantime I will focus on the family that I have been blessed with thus far and taking care of my body so that, in God's time, I will be as prepared as possible for another pregnancy. A heartfelt thank you to all of those who have lifted us in love and prayer and blessed us with kind words and friendship.

"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul..." Psalm 23:1-3 (KJV)

Where Has The Time Gone?

Today is the second day of the new school year. We are still running on the adrenaline rush brought on by the intoxicating smell of new sneakers, crayons, and freshly sharpened pencils. After the near-fiasco of our bus forgetting our stop and having to come back for the children yesterday, routines are beginning to establish in the minds of students, parents, and teachers alike. Bud is entering Kindergarten this year and had a half day yesterday, but he is full-time as of today. Li'l G is a sophisticated second grader now, having breezed through two years of school already. Faster than we could get our cameras out of our pockets this morning, when the big, yellow bus heaved to a stop in front of us, the kids whooped, hollered, cheered, and peeled out to run and claim the best seat on the bus, leaving a crowd of parents waving and cheering them on. Today was Bud's first day on the bus. This is the child that has always been apprehensive and teary-eyed for the first week of school every year so far, but this time, he didn't even look back. No hint of hesitation, no smooch good-bye. Nothin' but dust coming up from the trail he blazed onto the bus, like the roadrunner getting away from Wile E. Coyote. Who are these children, and what have they done with Bud and Li'l G?!?!?

These are the children I remember...

NOT these!...

(Sorry about the sleepy pregnant lady in the third picture. She's not "showing", she's just preparing her fat reserves for breast feeding... yeah... )

As I came back in the house from my jog with R. after the kids left for school, I sat down to blog about this bewildering experience I had just had, incredulous that we have finally reached such a milestone in our lives. What will actually go on on that bus? Will my children make friends? Will they be the type of friend a friend would like to have? We've been doing devotions together each night and been talking a lot about prayer and how God is always with us and will always be there to listen to us. Will they remember these things when they are fearful or anxious? Will Bud remember our devotion last night about honesty? (a very timely lesson for him) As all these things are piling up on my mental scratch pad as I perch in front of the computer, I begin to peruse the digital files for the right pictures to translate from my heart to the readers this mother's experience. Then, of course, I would happen across pictures like this:

Indeed, I ask, "Where has the time gone?" It seems like only yesterday I had two children in diapers whose only joy in life was to snuggle with their parents and watch "Blues Clues". Now I have these much taller, diaperless people who ride bikes without training wheels, tie their own shoes, and have opinions about pretty much anything and everything. These precious years, trying and tragic though they have been at times, have been no less beautiful and sacred to me. I only wish I had savored them more.

With the previously-mentioned upcoming addition to the family due to arrive next spring, I am even more keenly aware that we must not take these experiences for granted or be in a hurry to push on to the next stage in life. Just as quickly as these babies were born and learned to walk, they will grow up and leave the safety of home and want to embark on their own adventures even further away from my arms' reach. And just as we have been learning in our devotions, thankfully there is nowhere where my family can go where God -- and my love -- is not constantly present with them.

"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." -- Proverbs 22:5

The Changing of the Seasons

Ever feel like you've sailing along in life and then, all of a sudden, notice that you had a massive shifting of the very ground under your feet? Almost like the kind of earthquake that can completely alter the path of a mighty river or change the polarity of the earth. I knew that this summer would bring about such changes for myself and my family, but I had no way of truly knowing just how different things would be -- and just how different I would be -- by the time the summer began to wind down and we could finally see the start of school and fall on the horizon.

Let me give you a head-spinning timeline so you can see what I've been up to instead of blogging: got married, bought a house, packed up my children and all of our belongings, drove the 2400 miles to our new home, visited R. a couple of times in yet another state while he was working there, settled two separate households-worth of belongings into our new home, got pregnant (!!!), have kids settled into extracurricular activities, been "church shopping", and now R. is home for good. In five months time I went from being a widow and single parent to being an Army wife (again), with kids who seem to have grown up overnight and trying to figure out what being pregnant in my mid-30s is going to be like.

Don't think for a minute I haven't been blogging in my heart this whole time. I have some incredibly precious memories from this summer. My family all gathered for a goodbye meal just before we struck out on our transcontinental drive. Despite how extended family can make you happy and crazy at the same time, I realized as I looked at each smiling face what an important part these people have played in making me who I am, how they have supported my family through thick and thin, how they have grieved alongside me through the really hard stuff. To top it off, my grandmother, recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's, who has struggled with significant health issues over the last year, spoke those blessed words from Numbers 6:24-26 to me as we were preparing to depart. It has been particularly hard to leave her because I know that it could be the last time I lay eyes on her this side of eternity. While I understand that as an adult, the child in me sees my grandmother and doesn't want to let her go. I know as a Christian that this world is not our true home, and if anyone longs for her true home it is most definitely my grandmother, but thinking about my world without her voice, her smile, her laughter in it just shatters me. (As I write this she is actually doing just fine, praise God!)

Leaving my church was no cakewalk, either. I was blessed with the opportunity to serve in so many unique ways with this body of believers. There were so many times when I felt out of place or exasperated with some of the painful things going on there. But through it all, as much as I considered tapping out sometimes, it was God working through some of the people there that sustained me in ways I am only just now realizing and appreciating. Similarly, the friends we visited along our journey are some of the most precious ones I've ever made, and while I have always appreciated how they have gone out of their way to love me through thick and thin, I think I love most how they are so steadfast, unchanging in their friendship and support across the years and the miles. They are all truly Godly women that I adore and admire so much.



I think I have most enjoyed spending time with my children this summer. They are at an age now that they are fun to hang out with AND they still want to be around us! From the long road trip and all of the cool sideshows along the way, to learning how to ride bikes without training wheels and swimming, I have noticed that we've moved to a new season in childhood for them, too. With Bud starting Kindgergarten this year and Li'l G in second grade, they will both be off on the bus each day, off on their own adventures. It makes me miss them being little and needing me more. Their need of me doesn't go away, of course, but it changes as they grow and mature. I think I would rather take the needs of diapers and naps over boy-crazy friends and playground politics, thank you very much, but I digress...

As I was unpacking and putting R.'s things away, my thoughts drifted back to a day that seemed as though it had taken place in another life. I was remembering the day I left the housing quarters I had shared with my late husband and deciding what to do with his socks as I was supposed to be finding room for all of my new husband's clothes in the home we now share. Words escape me to properly describe the feelings flooding through my heart and mind as I thought about what I was doing, what it meant, the path my life had been on to get me from Point A to Point B. There are some days where I literally feel as though I could be living someone else's life, or am dreaming. Don't get me wrong -- we have a very human marriage, very human children, etc., but for me to hear this man introduce me as his wife, to hear the children scream, "Daddy!" at the top of their lungs when he walks in the door, nearly sucks the air out of my lungs each time I hear it. To really contemplate how God has blessed my family and me leaves me breathless.

As amazing as all this is, I can't help but feeling kinda lost somedays. Isn't that weird? I think it is. I know that some of it has to do with the dangerous levels of hormones coursing through my veins these days. "Who am I?" is a question I consider many days. I knew who I was back when I was T.'s widow. But now I add to that identity R.'s wife. My status as a mom has not changed (regardless of what TRICARE says, but that's a whole other story), but now we're having another baby. How will this pregnancy go? What will the family dynamic be like once #3 gets here? Will this baby be healthy? Will I miscarry? I've never been pregnant in my 30s, and things feel a little different this time around, but not too bad. How will my energy hold out for Li'l G and Bud as I progress? Where, oh WHERE will we go to church? Where is the right group with which we will worship? Will PWOC work out this year? Will I ever get to be on a praise band again?...ad nauseum...

Overall I'm not terribly worried about all these questions. I trust that God will answer them in time. Or not, which is in itself an answer. I don't like uncertainty in my life; then again, who does? So many things have changed in our lives in such a short amount of time. Everything I had figured out about who I was and the world around me has been flip-turned upside-down, and once again I find myself untangling the proverbial knot of coat hangers that have been jumbled together after the move. I do know that God created me to exist in community with others, so I am most anxious to find a church home and make new friends. Other than that, I just want to sit back and savor this changing of seasons, in my family, in my heart, in my home, and take it all in.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." -- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Standing On Hope

Just wanted to announce that I am, yet again, transforming. My middle name (not really "guitar") means "reborn," and I seem to be in a constant state of rebirth and transformation. However! This change is just my blog. I know I haven't posted anything in a while, which will be explained on the new site. After getting married this spring, buying and house and moving, and finding out that we're having a baby (!!!), I began to feel something was just "off" over here at "One More Thing." Don't get me wrong -- that headline applies now more than ever -- but I've changed, evolved a lot in a short amount of time, and this glass slipper just doesn't fit right anymore.

So change your bookmarks in a few days to... Standing On Hope. This link will take you to my new site, and Blogger will still redirect you from this one. I'm sure I'll put in countless hours exporting, designing, and blogging soon. (Thank goodness the kids start back to school soon!) So bear with me, but please come along for the next part of the ride.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -- Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

The Fresh Prince(ss) of Bel Air

"Now this is a story all about how my life got flip-turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute -- just sit right there -- I'll tell ya how I became the prince(ss) of a town called Bel Air..."

If you're wondering how much I'm going to overuse/overplay that song over the next four years, let me set your fears at ease: A LOT. Constantly. Consistently. I mean, how many times in a person's life could they ever put themselves (sort of) into a DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince song?!? Pft. Please. You wish.

All joking aside, I have been so thrilled with the house we have chosen and, God willing, will own in about a month after we close. Not only is it gorgeous, the seller seems fair and amicable and motivated to keep her end of the deal. We sifted through a lot, and I mean A LOT, of inventory before we even met with our realtor, who is a really fun person and a great realtor. I wondered at first how well she would understand us and our needs/wants. After having met and worked together she has proven to be very intuitive and assertive, which I love. By the end of our marathon house viewing session last week, R. and I had two houses to chose from that were both outstanding options for our family. I still can't believe how well this has gone so far and pray that I haven't jinxed the process by feeling so confident about it!

One thing I have learned as a newlywed going through this process is that it can stress even the best of relationships, and it really points out how different you can be from your spouse. There were plenty of areas where we didn't agree on the layout of a room or things we would change, etc., but at the end of the day, R. and I were both very much in tune with what each other felt were pros and cons of each property we were seriously considering. I think my favorite memory of this experience was at the end of the day where we were making our final decision on which house to submit an offer. We were pretty mentally spent from really walking through each nook and cranny of both houses and trying to visualize our reality at each property. I flopped down on the side of the tub in the master bath of one house, and he sat next to me. I just stared out the window, too exhausted to move, and asked him what he thought. By the end of his careful run-down of everything we had talked about during the day, he just looked at me and said we should put the offer in on the first house. I looked at him and thoroughly agreed.

It was like a huge weight had been lifted off our brains once we made that decision. And as much as we pored over every possible detail, it was a fairly easy decision to make. We definitely agonized over the decision, but once we made it, it just felt right. I was beaming when we walked down the stairs and out to the car. Of course we would put in an offer on the first home -- I remember when I saw the first pictures of the kitchen I said, "Now this looks like a K. and R. kind of house!" I still loved the second house and knew that we would be happy with it, but it just had too much significant work to be done to the basement to make it the best choice for us, but that's a whole other story. With only a couple of minor changes in paint, the house we chose is move-in ready.



Check out the workstation in my new kitchen! This is where GGG's bloggy magic will happen in the future! All within bright, lovely walking space of my coffee pot! Swoon! What's not to love?!?

What's better is that the house is less than a mile from the school where BOTH kids will attend (thank you, Jesus, for blessing me with having them in one school in the same town for once!). Additionally, we are located in a great place for R. to access work, and there is a neat Lutheran church within three miles of the house. Oh. And a Buffalo Wild Wings within walking distance of the house. WALKING DISTANCE! Heck yeah!

In all honesty, I've been praying over this whole situation about finding a house. I may not be the most consistent, scheduled pray-er in the world, but each time I would sit down to look at stuff I couldn't help but ask the Lord to be preparing the way for our family to find the right home, schools, teachers, church, etc., and to help us with a smooth transition. The house I really felt we would look at, love, and buy wasn't even available by the time we got up there by a matter of mere days. But look at what we got instead! Even better! We aren't moved yet, and we haven't closed yet for that matter, but things feel like they are on the right track, and I'm incredibly thankful.

That being said, life on the post will be a challenge. It's harder to connect with your military community when you don't live there. We found out very quickly that living on post would not be the way to go, and this post is a bit of a ghost town. There are a lot of personnel coming our way over the next couple of years, so I fully expect this to change. (We are getting 12 general officers and their wives, all of whom expect to live on post. HA! I wish I could see the looks on their faces when they get here. Hopefully that will be the most potent catalyst for change.) I am fully prepared to check out the PWOC on post and be a part of that ministry as a way to connect with other wives. However, I'm thinking this could be another one of those ways where I walk into a group that is struggling to stick around and I become a work horse. On one hand, it's a great way to see God at work when groups like this go from fledgling to thriving and growing. On the other hand, it can be physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting. I'm coming from a situation with my church that has been stressful in the past but is on the path to strength and renewal, which is relieveing. However, I don't know if I can take four more years of that same level of stress and support my family at the same time. Hey -- it's God's knot to unravel. I'm just along for the ride to figure out where God needs me to plug in, right? Either way, it should be an interesting ride!

'"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."' -- Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Transformation: Becoming An "SP" Again

Wow. Here it is, already April, and life is moving so fast once again. Spring brings about recitals, team sports, and class programs if you have school-aged children. It also brings about much hustle and bustle for anyone involved in a church as you move from the reflective season of Lent into the shining glory of the empty tomb on Resurrection Morning. In my family, add to all this a slew of family birthdays and anniversaries. Tired yet? TOO BAD! Because now my life has spun back into action as a new wife. And not just any wife, the wife to an active duty soldier in the Army. One who is making a transcontinental move in, oh, about five days. In what took the ID card lady about 10 minutes to change in her omnipotent computer system, I went from being a "URW" (Unremarried Widow) to being a "SP" (spouse) again in a few keystrokes. What those keystrokes symbolize absolutely blows my mind.

It's crazy to think about where my life was six months ago, a year ago, five years ago, etc. R. and I recently married (see S4J and His Girl for some hysterical footage and on-the-go vlogging), and with the wedding/life planning process there came a lot of opportunity for reflection. I would be remiss if I glossed over all of this, so I need to document it now while it is still fresh in my mind, before my feeble brain is clogged with other details that need more immediate attention.

WEDDING PLANNING

This is, in the minds of some, like childbirth: something amazing to experience, painful while going through it, yet you only remember the good stuff about it, although you pray to the good Lord to never have to do it again and swear to pay off your children so that they elope when the time comes. Also, there is this misconception that there is an "appropriate" amount of time to be engaged or that it takes at least a year to plan an amazing, wonderful event. To quote John Pinette, "I say 'nay-nay'!" We were engaged for just shy of four months. In the first three weeks I was able to secure an amazing florist, our reception site which handled our food and beverages, a wedding cake, buy my dream gown, and order my invites and paper goods. I didn't exactly cut corners, but I also didn't want to break the bank. I did all that in three weeks being a single parent, albeit I don't work outside the home. Folks, it can be done.

I happened upon some really great vendors who are skilled at their craft. As the days dwindled down, both my groom and I were able to enjoy looking forward to our big day without having to put out fires and come up with lots of scatterbrained contingency plans last minute. Overall, I'd say we got what we wanted and the whole event was even better than we could have dreamed.

THE ROAD TO THE CHAPEL

As lovely as all this is, wedding planning for me was not just about procuring the perfect flowers, dress, or menu. Wedding planning was another step in the grief process. It was about really learning what it means to join with this person and become one. That is hard to do when it means completely cleaving yourself from the one you lost and can take time. There is no room for three people in a marriage. It was, for me, one of the most amazing, surreal days of my life.

I know this may sound really confusing to some of you. I will attempt to describe what was going on in my heart over those months, but I just don't know if I can do this justice or not. I promise not to be unduly dark or sarcastic (aww, maaaannn!), just telling it like it was for me and trying to put you in my brain as best I can.

If you are married, picture yourself back on your own wedding day, exuberant and brimming with love for this person you married. Think over some of the best days and worst days of your marriage. Think about the children you have had, or something over which you have both bonded. Think about some of the dreams and goals you have set for your lives together. Take one last look at your spouse now. Remember every minute detail that you can, because this will be the last look you ever get. Touch them, smell them, feel the warmth in their skin before it is gone. That's gonna have to last you a while. Now turn around and walk out the door. Once you leave, you can never go back -- it's a one-way ticket to your new life.

Now imagine you, your children, all of your things, and put them in a different state. Take your friends, your church, the things you see during your daily grind, and erase those from your daily landscape. Put a new, pleasant but unfamiliar environment outside your door. You can have as many pictures and artifacts of your spouse as you want. You can pretend to talk to them on the phone, set a place for them at the table, whatever you want, but you will never see them again. You still feel like a family waiting on someone to come home from a business trip, but that traveller's key will never turn in your door again. Do this day in and day out. Oh yeah, and keep your chin up while you're at it.

Let a few years pass. The feeling finally comes back to your body and your heart, slowly as if you are thawing from a hard freeze. The shock and pain has worn off, and you no longer feel as if you are waiting for missing link. You've developed a new sense of normal. Normal relative to you. You might look at the lives of others and wonder what it was ever like to be a traditional family. Ponder what effect your life events will have on your children as they grow up, fall in love, and decide whether or not they will marry. Scarier still, ponder what effect your own grief has had on your children and how much time and money they will have to spend in therapy! Now that you're pretty much done thawing out, you have a stark realization: you want to step away from the one you lost into the arms of another.

Maybe you will take that step, maybe you won't. For the sake of our narrative, let's say you do. How will you handle telling a love interest about the significantly ginormous, neon flashing sign on your head that says, "WIDOW" or "WIDOWER"? Will he/she ask about it? Will you tell? Will you say something before they have a chance to ask? Will they freak out about it? What about if you cry? Will they freak out about that? Will they accept the situation or not? How will you handle this with your children? Will you listen to advice from married friends? Family? Other single people? Other single parents? Your religion? What is appropriate and what isn't? Left or right? Up or down? Black, white, or nuanced shades of grey? I'm so glad you don't have anything else going in your life so you can devote all your time to figuring out these questions... oh wait a minute...!!!

Now do you guys understand why this blog is called, "One More Thing"?!? :)

Let's fastforward to your wedding day. You have taken innumerable careful steps leading up to this day. You've come a long way from still feeling like a spouse who's waiting on their other half to return to them to a completely separate, independent individual who is strong and evolved enough to know when they are ready to fall in love and bond with someone again. Thinking about a life and a future without your newly betrothed spouse is unimaginable, and you marvel at how lucky you are to have found this love and acceptance in this person. You have wonderful plans of raising children and growing old together when something begins to stir, almost like the beginnings of a sneeze deep inside your head, but this is in your heart. You think, "Wait a minute, this sounds familiar..."



What you've done is transformed: you have felt like this squishy, awkward caterpillar feeling its way around a garden, trying to find some sustenance upon which to survive. You gathered your strength, spun your cocoon, and emerged as a completely new creature -- beautiful, graceful, and free. You don't feel bound by such gravity any more. You are light and basking in the warm sun.

THE BOTTOM LINE(S)

It was one thing to decide I wanted to date again. It was another thing to actually go out and date people, socialize, put yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position. It was one thing to meet an amazing man that put a smile back into my heart. It was another thing to completely give it over to him and trust him not to break it after coming through so much. It was one thing to tell T. goodbye and soldier on these last 4 1/2 years, knowing we would high-five each other again in the presence of the Lord. It was another thing to allow myself to fall in love again and not worry about feeling as though I was betraying T. It was one thing to say "yes" to R. when he proposed and get excited about making wedding plans. It was another thing to look into R.'s sparkling, gentle blue eyes, say my vows to him, slip the ring on his finger, and become his wife. When I walked with my sweet Dad down the aisle, praise Jesus, I did not feel as though I was walking away from T. I felt like I was running full force toward R., and that right next to him was exactly where I belonged. Standing there looking at him, I wasn't aware of anyone else in the room with us -- all I could see was soft light coming in through stained glass windows and flickering on candles, framing his sweet, smiling face. As the kids clambered between us and and we had our nuptial smooch, I felt like I had something new, yet something I sort of had all along: our family.



I started noticing something the day I picked up my gown. Real love is not to be taken for granted. It is a rare and precious thing. I hear R.'s voice on the phone, or I say something to someone about "my husband," and I'm reminded of this. I pray that it's something I never forget. I also hope I never forget where I've been, the hopelessness and lonliness I felt, the awkwardness and feeling disconnected that set in sometimes. I wasn't completely pessimistic about my life, but it's hard to be truly happy in life when things just aren't right. I hope I never forget the kinds of advice not to give. I hope my friends and family will know someday how thankful I am that they didn't give up on me even when I was feeling fairly tormented at the time. I hope I haven't damaged my poor, sweet children, who I know are gifts from God that have given me purpose in life. (Embarassed? Yes, and I'll likely do it again. Damaged, hopefully not!)



NERVOUS NEWLYWED?!?



I'll be honest. This all seems too good to be true. Is that pessimistic or negative of me? Does it communicate a deep-seated distrust of God and therefore underdeveloped spirituality? Maybe, but quite frankly I'm not interested in a psycho-theological explanation here. I remember I was completely stressed out with breastfeeding with my second child because of dire complications I had with my first. Until we got past that point I was a stress bucket. After that it was smooth sailing. My neighbor/friend/consultant also did a great job to reassure me and restore some of my confidence.



I think this is where prayer will prove quite helpful for me. My nerves began to fray a little bit, admittedly, on our honeymoon. We were preparing to fly over to see some friends the following day before we came back home. Some of these friends are some of the most precious people I've had the privilege to know, having come alongside me and ministered to me through music, laughter, and friendship during losing T. After I got off the phone with one of my friends and started remembering all those tough times she loved me through, I nearly had an anxiety attack. What had I done?!? I went off and got married again!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Don't you know all this is going to happen again and you're going to be left with a twice-broken heart?



I just stuffed it and put it out of mind. We had a great time the last couple of days, came home, and started back into the daily grind. But the night before R. left to go home, I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I cried almost as hard that night as he just held me as I had the day T. died. I will admit: it almost makes me throw up spontaneously to think about R. dying and being gone. I have come through so much to be at this point in my life. My understanding of life and love is so much more profound than it was ten years ago. At the hotel I had looked at his shaving items there by the sink and heard him talking on the phone in the room and then envisioned it all gone, and I just wanted the earth to swallow me up.



I know I won't always be this panicky about him dying. God has proven to be faithful to God's word time and time again to me. I hate being worried at a time of renewal in my life, when so many great things are starting to happen for us. I hate that grief is like an ugly tattoo that is with you, whether or not anyone else can see it. But I do love him and can't imagine not being his "SP". What is most important to me is that he loves me as I am, crazy and worried and energized all at the same time. I just want to take each moment, with God's help, and cherish it -- with him, with our children, with each new step in life. I could waste away my days in tears of this thing I fear so much, or I could choose to take advantage of the time we have. I will not lose heart; I choose to be of good courage.



"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the LORD!" -- Psalm 27:13-14

Where Has The Time Gone?!?

I had all these grand intentions of blogging each step of the way about planning our upcoming wedding (33 days away, in case you're wondering just how "upcoming" it really is). I would reflect meaningfully about the events of my life, how amazing love is, how God has been so faithful to me, etc. REALITY CHECK: life happens! While I have been mentally blogging every step of the way, I have spent almost no time in front of my computer in months. At this point I'm sure I'm going to post this and will hang out in cyberspace fairly unread because the faithful readers I once had have moved on for other bloggy sustenance. So, if you're still out there, I'll drop a few lines about some of the flotsam and jetsam in my mind these days.

THE SUPER BOWL

I was not a fan of either team going into it, but I was glad the underdog team won. Some of the commercials were great; others were just a flop. Am I the only one who noticed the surge of testosterone in these ads?!? Apparently all the "whipped" men of America decided to unite last night. Hope their liberation movement goes well for them. Good grief! And the Tebow/Focus on the Family pro-life commercial was beyond anti-climactic. Personally I don't think the Super Bowl is the best platform for crucial social issues, but you have to agree that it is the one time when you will have a bajillion eyeballs consuming your commercial. I fully expect to see a pro-choice commercial next year. Eh, all in all, it was just another excuse to eat for me.

HAITI

Could this situation be any more heartbreaking? And just when I hear some amazing story emerging from the desolation there, I hear three other stories that sound like things are not headed in the positive direction we'd like to think it is. I have a FaceBook friend who is a fierce advocate for children and adoption, and I have really appreciated some of the information and articles she has found to link to that is shedding more information on this crisis situation in Haiti. The whole missionairies/child trafficking situation sounds like a complete nightmare. I imagine it will be literally impossible to say whether these kids were rounded up legitimately or not. If, indeed, these people are on the up-and-up, then you just wish someone in the legal system would put down their gavel and tell everyone, "No shit, these kids need families who will love and care for them, like, yesterday. Make it so, Number One." Why must matters of survival be left up to the court systems in times like this? Can't we design some kind of expedited process for the important cases to use? And for the love of Pete, I think we need to come up with some kind of international law that is acceptable to every nation so that Americans are not tried under laws of other countries and vice-versa. I know this will never happen, and I hate to know what this would mean for criminals like terrorists, but honestly, there just has to be a better way, folks.

On a different subject, I just read an AP story today about the dire need for psychologists in Haiti. The point someone made that resonated with me was that they didn't need scads of volunteers coming in who didn't speak the language or didn't know anything about the culture. Haitian officials were looking into local Carribbean French-speaking countries for resources. THIS is what we need to see going on! I love the fact that they are not simply relying on the UN or USA to meet every need. And as well-meaning as we Americans are, there are many ways in which our support is best experienced through other resources. We can't solve every problem with a benefit concert and volunteers out the wazoo. The Haitians are going to survive because they are resilient and resourceful. This is a country that gets kicked almost every time it tries to stand up, and yet they don't quit. Makes me feel pretty spoiled rotten and soft.

ANDERSON COOPER

He's gay?!? Man, I would've never known. Not that it matters. I just hate being the last one to know any piece of information.

SCUBA DIVING

So I've been working my buns off the last two weeks or so earning my certification as an open water diver. R. and I are going to honeymoon on an island where there will be ample opportunities to dive, and as he has more certifications and ratings than I can remember, I thought it would be something we could do on the honeymoon. I know this is one of his most favorite recreational activities, and he has not had the chance to do it much over the last five years or so. I began the classes without any prompting from him, but I still think he owes me big time for taking this on! I have had to address almost every mortal fear I have in order to be able to scuba on our honeymoon. We did our first open water dive in a spring-fed lake a short distance from my home last week. It was mind-numbing cold outside, but a crisp 71 degrees in the water. I think I would've enjoyed it more if both the air and water temperatures had been warmer. Overall it was a cool experience. BUT! Upon first entering the water, I nearly soiled myself. See, they had briefed us on what we would see in the designated diving area. I knew what to expect to a certain degree. I knew some things would just look creepy underwater, and I wasn't let down. But I knew it was there -- that's the difference. As I'm swimming out to this platform to demonstrate my snorkel skills, I glance out of the diving area to the open water. Rising up from the floor of the lake like the dang Titanic was a sunken submarine, about 20 feet tall. It was covered with vegetation. OH MY LORD! I nearly had a stroke. I am completely terrified of wrecks and things like that under the water. Reefs, animals, and so on do not bother me. Man-made objects that are not supposed to sink that are lurking under the water with sharp things pointing at me do bother me. I'd say that was the only bad part of the dive.

I have to say, every now and then I have these dreams where I can breathe underwater naturally. This is the closest I will ever get to actually having that dream come true. That part of it is pretty cool. I am a little concerned about going much deeper than about 20 feet, though, and I know R. will want to go as deep as possible. We'll see how it goes.

THE WEDDING DRESS

Oh man. I have the dress to end all dresses. This is a big deal to me and most other women. Men, on the other hand, could usually care less what they wear to a wedding. They want the ceremony to be short, the reception to be a big bash, and to get the goods after the reception, *wink, wink*. I'm sure the guests enjoy the reception more than the wedding. For me, I'm the other way around, but then again, I love planning worship services and music. I digress...

If I may be so bold, I would risk assuming that many women are like me in that a wedding dress immediately pops in their mind when someone tells them that they're getting married. Many of us, myself included, woke up at O-Dark:30 back in the '80s to see Princesses Diana and Fergie marry their royal princes, and we swooned when we saw them in their demure bridal splendor. OK, when we saw demure Diana. Fergie was more like a walking comedy show, but again, I digress. Bottom line, the dress is a big deal.

I actually bought and ordered my dress about two weeks prior to being engaged (long story -- don't ask). My sister and I had about one weekend between Halloween and Christmas to get together, and since she lives several hours away, I wanted to make a point to be able to share some kind of wedding-preparation moment with her. In the end, I found a dress I loved and realized that I would have to rush-order it to get it here in time for a spring wedding. It's a lucky thing everything worked out the way it did. I picked up the dress this weekend and will have bridal pictures with S4J next weekend.

The day I chose the dress was exhilarating. The mother and daughter that own the shop, Bridal Collections by Stella, are these adorable, amazing Brits who immediately make you feel like a family member. Only after my sister and I are celebrating the day over margaritas does it really hit me what I've just done. Realization No. 1: I, a widow of four years, have just bought a wedding dress. I, a woman who wondered if this second chance would come around for me, have found a man who loves and adores not only me but my children. T. himself said he wanted me to remarry if anything should ever happen to him, and as much as I feel guilty or torn sometimes, he mercifully set me free of that burden, unaware of how badly I would need it when the right time came. As I was trying on lovely white dresses that day, all I could see in my mind was R. in his uniform in the church we had already picked out, the flowers in the room, the children standing there by our sides as our friends and family melting into the background as we say our vows, time standing still just for us. It was only after living in that moment did its gravity truly hit me.

When I went for my fitting, my mom, sister, and a dear childhood friend came along with me. It was a fun time for people to gather, reminisce, and get in on wedding stuff. However, last weekend it just worked out that I would run up to the shop to pick up the dress by myself. And it's a good thing I did.

I was breathless.

First of all, this dress leaves NOTHING to the imagination. Form fitting doesn't do it justice. Yet it's so lovely, not slutty or slinky at all. Just very feminine. I was initially breathless because the darn thing fits so snugly. Let's all agree to pray I can still fit into it in 33 days!

Secondly, when I stepped in front of the mirror, I realized: This is my wedding dress. There are many like it, but this one is mine. After the alterations, this dress will fit no one else in the world but me. Like a fingerprint or the inside of a shoe that has been worn several times, it is unique. It turned out better than I could have ever dreamt. Then came Realization No. 2:

Never take love for granted.

As happens once the new wears off any marriage, or after a baby is grown up and walking around your house tearing things up or is in middle school and being completely obnoxious, it's easy to forget the value of that love. It is utterly priceless. Even as Christians, we forget the passion of a newly-washed soul and how Christ's love first affected every ounce of our being.

I remember a picture our photographer took of T. and me just after we walked down the aisle as newlyweds. We were ecstatic and high-fiving each other in the narthex, ready to get to the reception and get on with the next adventure in life. We were young, in love, had our lives ahead of us, and we had just gotten married. And then, in a matter of seconds, that love became a memory, a shadow in my life, something that left my world altered, broken, and floundering. Even as I evolved and grew through this experience and decided to venture into love again, it was every bit exciting and frightening. I had to consciously choose to keep walking forward and to keep my momentum. I know everyone who knows me will think this is so ridiculous -- I've always been the one who is driven once I set my mind to something. Especially when it comes to R., I've known how I felt about him for what seems like ages. But even as much as I love him and he is the one for me, deep wounds are not quick to heal, and to force them to hurry up and heal is like putting on socks over nail polish that only appears to be dry. It's gonna get all jacked up and you're gonna have to start all over to do it right. It's worth taking the time to do it right.

Once back in the dressing room, I took the dress on and felt like a dirty, ragged Cinderella looking at the dress her fairy godmother (Stella) had placed in her arms. Why me? How did this wonderful thing ever come to be? I have certainly done nothing to deserve love like I have found in R. The heavy, smooth satin and delicate organza seemed to be reminding me that the difference between me then and me now is that this time is very intentional, and great care should always be taken to appreciate love when and where you find it. We are lucky to find such a love even once in our lives, much less twice. It simply must be praised over and nurtured and not taken for granted.

RECONNECTION

I know this has gotten long, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention the amazing thing that has been happening throughout the planning process of preparing for our wedding day. I have had numerous occasions to reconnect with friends that I haven't seen in 5-10 years, all in the name of various wedding activities. Sure, it's fun to shop for a dress or have a shower thrown for you, but the time I have spent with these precious people has moved me to tears. I feel as though God is allowing this time to prepare me for whatever step comes next. This is actually quite frightening for me, because the last time amazing things like this were going on was weeks before T. died. At any rate, it has been time well spent, and it has made an otherwise crazy and hectic time so beautiful and sweet. I have made new friends along the way from scuba diving and reconnected with old ones, too. This just couldn't get any better!

I will leave you with the song I have chosen to be played at the wedding during the lighting of our unity candle. It, too, leaves me breathless. It is, "Love Never Fails," by Brandon Heath.