Within three years, we had outgrown the apartment. We wanted to start a family. I finally had a good ‘adult’ job. The time was right! We were ready to do adult things. So, we bought a house.
I guess this is the beginning of our lessons on relinquishing control to God. I just THOUGHT I knew what that entailed, but apparently it is a lesson that I will continue to repeat for a very long time. First, as you will know from my blog "Many are the Plans", family was not an easy option. Second, after just two years and a brand new coat of paint, Chris got a job in Fort Worth. He honestly didn't intend on getting the job; he just wanted the experience of applying and interviewing with a larger orchestra. (You're about to see a pattern forming.)
This house in Abilene was perfect in so many ways. Patriotic street name, still close to family, but not 'too close'. :) We were both being blessed in our jobs and staying busy.
We actually tried living apart for a couple of months. Chris went on to Fort Worth to start his new job while I stayed in Abilene to pack up the house and start trying to sell it. We learned a couple valuable lessons. 1. Don't ever leave it up to one spouse to pack, wrangle animals, and accommodate showings of a house. 2. Slow transitions are almost always bad; it's better to cut bait and just get on with life.
So on we went; a little older and a little wiser.
Monday, July 8, 2019
Thursday, February 23, 2017
The LONGEST address for the TINIEST place
5249 US Hwy 277 S #183 Abilene, TX 79606
That was a MOUTHFUL when trying to quickly rattle off an address for people to send graduation/wedding gifts and good wishes :)
Our very first apartment...From May 2005 to May 2008...a perfect one bedroom, one bath place for newlyweds to figure out post-collegiate / married life.
As you will see in posts to come, we move fairly frequently and I truly believe each one of our homes has served a very specific purpose. As I continue to practice counting my blessings, a greater appreciation for the seemingly mundane events has surfaced. Time literally slows when you are fully aware of each moment of blessing: hearing a dog bark, a baby laugh, feeling a cool breeze while standing in the sun, a car starting, a smile from a stranger. Each second is broken up into moments of peace, love, grace, thanksgiving.
This first residence was full of the mundane moments of the miracle of marriage. Two people becoming one. Leaving the homes of the parents and cleaving to each other and to the Lord. I learned how he liked his eggs; he learned how I like my coffee. This location was ideal in its distance from family! Family could come and go in a day. Perfect for newlyweds to have the security of the familiar, but still have space to learn and grow.
I dedicated a page in my scrapbook for this time...it holds pictures of us reading books, playing video games, making coffee, babysitting children. Moments of nothingness that all of a sudden take on special meaning when you have a 'buddy'. We've always been a low-key kind of couple. Both slightly introverted, we are refueled in the quiet times of just being together. These first three years helped us discover this about each other. He didn't need or expect the big fancy dinners; I didn't expect expensive jewelry. We learned what the other did expect and extended grace while we tried and failed to meet those expectations. Marriage is hard. It's beautiful and wonderful, but it is hard work. I recently received a gift from a dear friend: a gratitude journal. One of the first sections prompts you to list the teachable moments from the past that you are now thankful for. My first one is: arguing with Chris. :) It's not that these are pleasant memories...far from it. But through these times of tension, anger, frustration, we learn how to communicate with each other. I don't consider myself an expert in any sense of the word when it comes to marriage and communication, but I do know you want to ignore the words (we will always ALWAYS say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way when we're hurt and upset) and hear their heart. I don't know about you, but take any one of our arguments...whether they were about money or jobs or family...boiled down, they were us saying/screaming: "I love you." or "I miss you." or "I can't imagine life without you."
Side story: Upon graduation, I still needed to complete an internship to technically 'graduate' and qualify to sit for the board certification exam for music therapists. The first year of marriage, I worked in a daycare to help make ends meet. I loved my time there, but struggled with the question of whether or not I was 'living up to my potential'. The Lord provided ...living with my mother-in-law while completing my internship with the music therapist in Odessa. What a blessing! Who else has the chance to build that relationship with their mother-in-law?! I was able to get to know her and love her as my own. I will forever be grateful for her willingness to embrace me as her own. So, abundant blessings and opportunities to grow our marriage...living apart for the second year of your marriage is not ideal, but God was with us. He used that time to show us the importance of family...biological and spiritual. Imagine having a spat with your husband and then having to hang up the phone and sit down to dinner with his mom! Unique circumstance that taught me many valuable lessons. I think I can sum it up with this advice given to me by a good friend: always keep a picture of your husband as a young boy close by where you see it regularly. Remembering to see him through her eyes...through God's eyes...makes it really hard to stay mad at someone.
It's a good thing this first place was tiny; given any more space and we may have very well retreated to our own corners! But within those close quarters, we were stuck together, through thick and thin. So yes, I can genuinely give sincere thanks for that tiny apartment with the loud lady upstairs and for every one of our tear-stained arguments. Growing pains in our cocoon...we were being molded for the next step in our journey.
That was a MOUTHFUL when trying to quickly rattle off an address for people to send graduation/wedding gifts and good wishes :)
Our very first apartment...From May 2005 to May 2008...a perfect one bedroom, one bath place for newlyweds to figure out post-collegiate / married life.
As you will see in posts to come, we move fairly frequently and I truly believe each one of our homes has served a very specific purpose. As I continue to practice counting my blessings, a greater appreciation for the seemingly mundane events has surfaced. Time literally slows when you are fully aware of each moment of blessing: hearing a dog bark, a baby laugh, feeling a cool breeze while standing in the sun, a car starting, a smile from a stranger. Each second is broken up into moments of peace, love, grace, thanksgiving.
This first residence was full of the mundane moments of the miracle of marriage. Two people becoming one. Leaving the homes of the parents and cleaving to each other and to the Lord. I learned how he liked his eggs; he learned how I like my coffee. This location was ideal in its distance from family! Family could come and go in a day. Perfect for newlyweds to have the security of the familiar, but still have space to learn and grow.
I dedicated a page in my scrapbook for this time...it holds pictures of us reading books, playing video games, making coffee, babysitting children. Moments of nothingness that all of a sudden take on special meaning when you have a 'buddy'. We've always been a low-key kind of couple. Both slightly introverted, we are refueled in the quiet times of just being together. These first three years helped us discover this about each other. He didn't need or expect the big fancy dinners; I didn't expect expensive jewelry. We learned what the other did expect and extended grace while we tried and failed to meet those expectations. Marriage is hard. It's beautiful and wonderful, but it is hard work. I recently received a gift from a dear friend: a gratitude journal. One of the first sections prompts you to list the teachable moments from the past that you are now thankful for. My first one is: arguing with Chris. :) It's not that these are pleasant memories...far from it. But through these times of tension, anger, frustration, we learn how to communicate with each other. I don't consider myself an expert in any sense of the word when it comes to marriage and communication, but I do know you want to ignore the words (we will always ALWAYS say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way when we're hurt and upset) and hear their heart. I don't know about you, but take any one of our arguments...whether they were about money or jobs or family...boiled down, they were us saying/screaming: "I love you." or "I miss you." or "I can't imagine life without you."
Side story: Upon graduation, I still needed to complete an internship to technically 'graduate' and qualify to sit for the board certification exam for music therapists. The first year of marriage, I worked in a daycare to help make ends meet. I loved my time there, but struggled with the question of whether or not I was 'living up to my potential'. The Lord provided ...living with my mother-in-law while completing my internship with the music therapist in Odessa. What a blessing! Who else has the chance to build that relationship with their mother-in-law?! I was able to get to know her and love her as my own. I will forever be grateful for her willingness to embrace me as her own. So, abundant blessings and opportunities to grow our marriage...living apart for the second year of your marriage is not ideal, but God was with us. He used that time to show us the importance of family...biological and spiritual. Imagine having a spat with your husband and then having to hang up the phone and sit down to dinner with his mom! Unique circumstance that taught me many valuable lessons. I think I can sum it up with this advice given to me by a good friend: always keep a picture of your husband as a young boy close by where you see it regularly. Remembering to see him through her eyes...through God's eyes...makes it really hard to stay mad at someone.
It's a good thing this first place was tiny; given any more space and we may have very well retreated to our own corners! But within those close quarters, we were stuck together, through thick and thin. So yes, I can genuinely give sincere thanks for that tiny apartment with the loud lady upstairs and for every one of our tear-stained arguments. Growing pains in our cocoon...we were being molded for the next step in our journey.
Monday, February 6, 2017
My story. Our story. HIS story.
I am a scrapbook-er...I love taking pictures, documenting the who/where/when/why of life events, organizing pages to visually depict everything that gets written on my heart...
However, when we began our journey of infertility, all of a sudden I felt a lot of guilt over the time and money spent on scrapbooking. It seems silly, but I struggled with 'what's the point?' WHO is this for? When I'm dead and gone, WHO will care? I appreciate all the work my Papaw and Mom put into documenting our family history, but will anyone really care about MY part of the story? My little family?...Uncle Chris and Aunt Audra and their crazy animals? Surely everyone will have their own stories and memories to preserve...what difference does it make if I create a 'story of us' for posterity or if these pictures sit in a box, or on the computer, or if they never get taken at all?
So, I stopped. I continued to take pictures and put them in a book...but not necessarily 'scrapbooking' them...If you're a scrapper, you understand the distinction. The entire process had lost all appeal. Every picture I glued onto card stock mocked me...another picture of your dogs? concert tickets and programs, stubs from museums and movies, pictures of nieces and nephews opening the gifts from us...WHY? Who even LOOKS at them, besides me?
I love watching home videos (many, courtesy of aforementioned 'Papaw'). At LEAST once a year, I watch those [all too few] years through his eyes. Hear the sweet voices, laugh at the same jokes we still use in the family vernacular today, see Mom as a young mother once again, trying to mold us into decent human adults :) Why does even TYPING about these videos now tug at my heart and bring tears to my eyes?
Because it's not about me, it's about US, it's about ALL the pieces of our family story. Where we came from, how we got here, why we are the way we are, why we think the way we think...looking back, you can SEE God's hand prints all over EVERYTHING! The ugly beauty of hospitals, the precious mess in a house full of children, the aching heart for faces no longer seen. It all fits because it's all a part.
So, our part of the story deserves to be told. Not because of who we are, what we do, or how we think, but because we are a part of His story and His is a story Definitely worth telling. Over and over again, every single part. Because it's His love, His creation, and His sacrifice.
How many times can you count in the Bible of the Israelites telling their story? I've never counted, but it's a LOT. EVERY time they get the chance, they start back at the beginning and work their way through the hundreds of years...the good, the bad, the obvious, the obscure...it all takes its place in the tapestry. They include it all, not because it's flattering to them or particularly exciting...the listing of kings and judges and LONG genealogies (I mean, come on, does anyone LIKE reading those?)...but because it's PART of the story. Who's to say what is noteworthy or important? Is it not all important? Is it not all grace?
This is our part..Only one thread of the tapestry, but valid and worthy of being seen and remembered, if only by me. It's a small gift of remembrance. A small sacrifice of my time. But I'll give it with thanks because it's what I have to give. It's God who will take my gift and do amazing things with it. Again, not because of what I offer, but because of what HE can do.
However, when we began our journey of infertility, all of a sudden I felt a lot of guilt over the time and money spent on scrapbooking. It seems silly, but I struggled with 'what's the point?' WHO is this for? When I'm dead and gone, WHO will care? I appreciate all the work my Papaw and Mom put into documenting our family history, but will anyone really care about MY part of the story? My little family?...Uncle Chris and Aunt Audra and their crazy animals? Surely everyone will have their own stories and memories to preserve...what difference does it make if I create a 'story of us' for posterity or if these pictures sit in a box, or on the computer, or if they never get taken at all?
So, I stopped. I continued to take pictures and put them in a book...but not necessarily 'scrapbooking' them...If you're a scrapper, you understand the distinction. The entire process had lost all appeal. Every picture I glued onto card stock mocked me...another picture of your dogs? concert tickets and programs, stubs from museums and movies, pictures of nieces and nephews opening the gifts from us...WHY? Who even LOOKS at them, besides me?
I love watching home videos (many, courtesy of aforementioned 'Papaw'). At LEAST once a year, I watch those [all too few] years through his eyes. Hear the sweet voices, laugh at the same jokes we still use in the family vernacular today, see Mom as a young mother once again, trying to mold us into decent human adults :) Why does even TYPING about these videos now tug at my heart and bring tears to my eyes?
Because it's not about me, it's about US, it's about ALL the pieces of our family story. Where we came from, how we got here, why we are the way we are, why we think the way we think...looking back, you can SEE God's hand prints all over EVERYTHING! The ugly beauty of hospitals, the precious mess in a house full of children, the aching heart for faces no longer seen. It all fits because it's all a part.
So, our part of the story deserves to be told. Not because of who we are, what we do, or how we think, but because we are a part of His story and His is a story Definitely worth telling. Over and over again, every single part. Because it's His love, His creation, and His sacrifice.
How many times can you count in the Bible of the Israelites telling their story? I've never counted, but it's a LOT. EVERY time they get the chance, they start back at the beginning and work their way through the hundreds of years...the good, the bad, the obvious, the obscure...it all takes its place in the tapestry. They include it all, not because it's flattering to them or particularly exciting...the listing of kings and judges and LONG genealogies (I mean, come on, does anyone LIKE reading those?)...but because it's PART of the story. Who's to say what is noteworthy or important? Is it not all important? Is it not all grace?
This is our part..Only one thread of the tapestry, but valid and worthy of being seen and remembered, if only by me. It's a small gift of remembrance. A small sacrifice of my time. But I'll give it with thanks because it's what I have to give. It's God who will take my gift and do amazing things with it. Again, not because of what I offer, but because of what HE can do.
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