And it's Friday again! I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to see this week end. I'll save the stories of car breakdowns and fingertip slicing for another day...

ANYWAY...

Here's what I'm loving this week:

1) The Irish Sea (and these photos) :: We spent the morning of our anniversary on a beach in South Dublin. These days are few and far between, so when the sun is shining and there's reason to celebrate, we must take advantage of it. And we did. Iced coffee and pastries and Asher finding rocks and the beautiful sea. Thank you Ireland. You made our anniversary spectacular. You can also look at our wedding pictures here if you are so inclined. Keep in mind we were married before Pinterest. If our wedding were to happen today, I can only assume there would be a distinct increase in the number of homemade feather boutonnieres.

2) I love gay people and I love Christians. I choose all. | Momastery :: I'm not gonna get nitpicky about the whos, whats or whys of gay marriage (yes, this is a cop-out). But I will say this. I struggle, I pray, I'm trying to get to the heart of Jesus, and I want to be so filled with His love that it spills out, a wellspring of Life. I want to live this:

The point is – if you’re hungry – you are all welcome at my table. None of you is less welcome than the other. This place is a banquet table for gays and straights and prudes and hoochies and cheerleaders and tuba players and pharisees and alpha moms and slacker moms and tax collectors and fishermen and choir girls and heathens. It’s a banquet table where people who are different can come together and share a meal and maybe not change each other’s minds, but possibly soften each other’s hearts.

3) Finding a Feminine Theology in C.S. Lewis's Narnia | Her.meneutics :: I love the Her.meneutics page and the variety of issues they tackle, from abortion to stay at home (or breadwinning) moms to missional theology to literature. And I really love it when they talk Lewis. But this guest post was a little wanting, trying to paint Lewis in a corner on feminity and theology using just a part of his work and not the whole. I would love to have seen a broader and more intimate analysis of his feminine theology within the entirety of his work, particularly Till We Have Faces (which I am admittedly prejudiced towards). You just can't say: 

"we're confronted with an aspect of his writing that can make some evangelicals uncomfortable: his portrayal of women," 

and not touch upon Faces, his final novel.What do you think?

4) Picmonkey :: I'm a graphic designer who knows next to nothing about photoshop or some such tomfoolery. So I post-edit almost all of my blog photos with Picmonkey. This is an absolutely free service allowing you to crop, customize, retouch, frame and lay graphics and type on your photos. There are upgraded features for a yearly fee, but I'm not ready to make a long-term commitment (as of yet).

Finally...

5) The beach waves hairstyle :: I see this all over Pinterest, I've seen tutorials and graphics, I've seen things done with a flat iron and sea salt that should not have to happen in order to achieve a "natural" look. But I'm gonna confess to you. I love this trend. Here's my own, easy, exclusive how-to:

Step 1: Roll out of bed.



The end.

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As always, you can jump into the chaos on Facebook or Twitter. I hope to see you there!

What are your favourites from this week?

No affiliates linked above. These are just things I love and want to share with you. Enjoy!

The first time

"Matt & I are so grateful for our new home, though we do give in to occassional bouts of wistfulness thinking about all the times we have moved house, started over... But as we drive through the hills, take our children to the ocean, worship with Irish believers, and meet new friends, we are reminded of God's goodness in inviting us to share this all with Him." | May 2008

In five years, everything can change and look remarkably the same. We moved to Ireland, the first time, on this day. I can hardly remember it, and yet it doesn't seem like it should be this way, like it should feel so long ago.

Ella had just learnt to walk. Jack hadn't even begun primary school. And Asher was just a dream.



We sat around the dining room table remembering, visiting the home of our old neighbours. Hans poured wine and Matt looked up, "Five years ago this week was when we first met." We toasted and laughed, thinking of the babies and the warm spring day we picnicked on a farm. It was a lifetime ago (Asher's lifetime and then some, actually).

I'm pausing, remembering. We have come back different people. 

I'm tempted to grieve it, though I'm not sure what we've lost. Continuity, idealism, adventure? These all went home and came back with us, but still we are different. Ireland is different.

Still beautiful, still green, still filled with songs, still calling our hearts, still making us home. The point is, it's our anniversary, nonetheless. Five years ago was the start and today we celebrate it, here.

Where were you five years ago today? Did you think you'd be here, wherever you are?

Results may vary (my advice on having a happy marriage)

:: I hope you don't mind feet ::

So this is my advice*, on having a happy marriage, after 13 years of more happiness than not (though to be fair, some years might fit in the not category, but not many... less than a handful really... but I digress):

Say, "I love you."
Say, "I love you, too."

Don't quit.

Say, "Thank you!"
Say, "You're welcome!"

Don't quit.

Ask, "Did you remember to grind the coffee before bed?"
Say, "Yep."
Say, "Oh, thank God. And you, too, of course. I love you. Good night."

Don't quit.

Say, "I don't know how."
Say, "I know. It's ok. We'll figure this out."

Don't quit.

Say, "I'm sorry."
Say, "I forgive you."

Don't quit.

Of course, these are only the things we say, but it's the not quitting part that helps us mean it. It's what makes us get up in the morning and before we even think to brush teeth, reach over for a quick kiss and a good morning and how did you sleep? It's what binds us during the day with the don't forget and the we're out of milk! It's what closes the book, turns off the lamp, and rolls over whispering good night and i love you.

It's the not quitting that makes it stick. It means we're in it together. 

And that makes us happy.

1999

*Not a scientific study; based solely on a random sampling of two midwesterners trying to make a go of it, keep their wits about them, and still love God and each other. Results may vary. Consult your partner.

2012

Pink Line Anniversary

10 years ago today six pink lines appeared (I wanted to be sure, ok?) and our lives changed forever. What I thought was just jet lag turned out to be just a baby, and my world hasn't stopped spinning since. Hopefully - eventually - I'll get this mom thing figured out!

a weird anniversary to remember, I know... :)

31 days of LIVING in transition :: the anniversaries {day 18}

The man and I like to remember dates in our history. Besides birthdays, we try to celebrate anniversaries of all sorts: when we met, first date, engagement, when we found out we were expecting the boy (or the girl, and the wee lad), when we experienced a tragedy, when we moved to Ireland, etc etc. Remembering these days, these milestones that tell our story, prove that something bigger than us is at work, and promise a future full of anniversaries, both good and bad.

So yesterday (Oct 18th) was the 14th anniversary of our first date, but we actually didn't really celebrate it all that much. Instead, I remembered the anniversary of the day before. The day he first called me his future bride. Because that is the unpredictable one, the one that came during our second conversation, the day after we met, the day before our first date, 13 months before our engagement.



Strange, but true. He was joking, of course. And I laughed and laughed. It was absurd, and we both knew it, but it would turn out to be real. Prophecy.

Sometimes I think about that day, about how ignorant I was then to the life we would have. Not a bad life at all, but one I thought I knew but still never expected. And still don't know what to expect. Our relationship, our path, our life continues to evolve. 

I hope and wait for the next evolution.

Anniversaries and possessions

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go."

I said this to the husband today after days and weeks of pondering it, knowing it, and daring it to be said aloud. First, some background:

This weekend we took 24 hours off from parenthood to celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary and hang out unhindered and fancy-free in a city we love: our current one. It was great: we walked, had dinner, saw a movie, slept in, and then we went to the City Market for our favourite childless activity: sitting down in a coffeeshop for actual talking.

Sitting across from husband I said this without knowing I would.

"I'm thinking we shouldn't take anything when we go. I don't want to send a crate. I want to leave it all behind."

We hadn't been talking about Ireland much today, still not knowing exactly how and when we'll get back, but knowing for sure that God is leading us back. It hadn't even been on my mind, but for some reason, in that place, this divinely planted wish came tumbling out, and I knew in my heart it was right.

Then came the smile and "I was thinking the same thing" and "I feel free" and "Ireland seems closer now." But also, "We still have to ship my tools" and my knowing nod as I recognize the distinction between what we need for ministry and what we use for comfort.

See, before, when we just took a few things in a large crate that ended up weighing a lot and costing as much as a 20-foot container, I felt jipped. I wanted everything, all my things, all my furniture, everything that said "mine, mine, mine" to go with me to Ireland. Everyone else got to, I said. All of our coworkers took everything, some took more than everything. But it came to be that we took less, and I resented giving those things up. When we came back, and all my things I'd left behind were here waiting for me, I felt vindicated. My rocking chair, my dresser, my table... still "mine, mine, mine."

And yet... the shine was gone. The wood chipped. The imperfections I hadn't remembered, or purposely glossed over, were still there. I sit in my brown club chair now and am happy to have had it here, relieved that it was not so hard to make another home here because of all we left behind, but that's all it is.

A chair I sit in.

Or a table we eat at.

There's no reason to take it with us. It won't make us happier. It won't enable us to love better. And it won't make things easier: the packing and the shipping and the cost of it all. There's no reason - no value to it - that equals the amount we would pay to take something that says "mine" over the sea. I will not be the person that spends thousands of dollars - not just dollars, but investments from people I cherish and admire, who have chosen to love us and Ireland through their support - on a container full of things.

And so our family purpose statement rears it's head. It's our goal and our road map. It points us home and points us heavenward. And it makes this decision, this tiny little sacrifice easier.

Value people over things.

This didn't come from me, or from us. It's what He would have us do, so there's nothing holding us back from being all there, here, or wherever.

It will still be hard, I know, to say goodbye to things that were here at the beginning of "us" and to which we came home. I'm not even really looking forward to it. And I'm sure I'll be annoyed at husband for shipping literal tools for ministry but leaving the framed mirror w/hooks he built for me behind.

But... there's a storage unit on the other side of the sea, with the odds and ends we brought or collected to make a new home. They wait for us to return - not to them, but to the people that inhabited them and visited us there and laughed at the table and closed eyes at the prayers. They want nothing to hold us back.

And yeah, it does seem closer now.

Reentry Anniversary

We came back to the States one year ago today. A good, long, hard, fun, stressful, chaotic, slow, fast, happy, sad, fulfilling, frustrating, fruitful kind-of-a-year. But other than that...

10 Years and Counting

Today we celebrate 10 years of wedded, imperfect, beautiful bliss.

Bloggiversary

I just spent the last few minutes reading through the first few blogs of this now 1 year old blog. My first thought was, "Wow, I used to be a really good writer." My second thought was, "I'm so glad I had a place put some of this stuff, emotions, thoughts, ideas, silliness." My third thought was: while there is a LOT of a hard stuff (sometimes overwhelming, all-consuming, truly terrifying hard stuff), I love Ireland and I love what we do. The hard stuff (hopefully) comes and goes, but I do love it here.

Thanks for joining me on this journey so far. I hope there's much more to come...

Year 1 and transition observations

Having recently returned from a holiday with family in the States, we now find ourselves celebrating a milestone: us and Ireland one-year-old together. Part of me feels like this is more of a birthday than an anniversary, since last May 5th was the start of a brand new life for us. But either way you slice it, celebrations are in order.

We actually flew back to Ireland just days short of the anniversary of us moving to Ireland, however, the feelings that accompanied this most recent transition were so different. Last year when we left home, my heart nearly literally felt like it was breaking. That pain left me raw for weeks and months, but like some other types of grief, the shock and awe of it eventually began to fade, paving the way for new normalcy. When we flew out of Chicago this past Friday, that pain was nowhere to be found. Sure, we were definitely sad to say goodbye to our parents again and wished, of course, that our time together was longer. But upon boarding that plane, we knew we were going home. It was weird, really weird. But weird things can be good, too.

Another odd thing about our short trip back to the US: we, as people, felt different. It was hard to find comfort in the same old things, and sometimes, on occasion, even hard to find comfort in the same people from our old life. Not that we weren't overjoyed at seeing those same things and people again. Quite, the contrary, we had some very sweet (albeit short) reunions. Target welcomed me with open doors, while my mentor welcomed me with open arms. It was wonderful spending some times with our parents and siblings and the few friends we got to see. However, the food didn't taste as good as I remembered it. Shopping at Target confused me more than pleased me.  And there were some quiet patches, lapses in the conversation I didn't know how to fill. Maybe it was culture shock, or exhaustion, or the mental recognition that time was too short to share anything of real depth. Again, it was weird, really weird. But weird things can be sad, too.

So now we begin year 2. I still feel like I'm in a pregnancy funk, but the funk isn't as deep as it was before our little vacay. Maybe all I needed was just a little perspective. The grass isn't always greener on the other side. Unless the other side is Ireland. Then it is always greener. Literally. However, if it's the upper-midwest in the middle of April, then it's always a bit browner.

Good times with cousins.