Walking Away...

I was 22 and a month away from getting married.  Every time I would imagine walking down the aisle, I couldn't picture him at the end of it.  He was an awesome guy.  I knew that I loved him and I knew we shouldn't get married. 

For me, it is what I walked away from that has shaped my life the most. 

I had never known anyone to call off an engagement.  I thought I was a freak.  Even the Bed Bath and Beyond guy said, "Don't you just want to get married and try it out?"  Because when you're 22 and in love and just graduated from a Christian college, you get married.  I can see why people just go through with it.  Cough Kim Kardashian.  It's incredibly embarrassing to call off a wedding.  To say you have an ex-fiance.  That white dress hangs in your closet and it mocks you.  People feel sorry for you and want to know the gossipy details.  People thought I was brave and strong.  I thought it gave me a little too much in common with folks who go on Jerry Springer. 

Honestly, all the details of that time are fuzzy.  I can't even tell you the exact reasons why it ended, just that there was an overwhelming sense of God leading us apart and I surrendered to it.  

Knowing when to walk away is a delicate subject.  There isn't an easy formula because each situation is different.    It could be a job, a relationship or a wedding.  To walk away is painful and scary, but that's not where the focus should stay.  Dream of what it opens up.

6 years later when Brad asked me to marry him, there were no remnants of the past.  I was just like every other newly engaged girl, happy and in love.  Maybe a little more aware of what it really meant.  And I had a smile when I thought of Brad at the end of the aisle. 

"Thanks for saying no", he said to me on the drive home.  I looked up from my new sparkly ring and I knew exactly what he was talking about.

The makings of a turkey weekend...

After I declared to the Internet that we should live stress free lives and enjoy every ounce of holiday madness and overall hoopla I myself, cried in the car.  And the Internet laughed in my face!  Can you believe it?  I heard it laugh.  They were little whimpery tears that threatened to ruin all things turkey and gravy but I did not let them!  Instead I ate myself into a sweet potato coma and took a nap.  All while being thankful of course. 

I spent some time reading my Mormon novel at Starbucks while Brad worked on his little sermon.  He would ask me deep pondery type questions such as "Do you think the plagues in Exodus were meant for Pharaoh or the nation of Israel?" and I would say "Jesus!"  The older couple across the way was learning how to use their new iPhones and it was the cutest little scene I ever did see.  I read about the 19th wife of Joseph Smith and wondered what I would do if Brad was to take another wife.  The correct answer being I would kill both of them of course. 

Saturday I watched a horrible movie that was supposed to be artsy and fartsy but instead left me feeling gross and like I needed to do a cleanse.  So I threw it behind me and cleaned my whole house.  And then clear out of the blue I wanted to do some yoga.  Some what?  Some yoga.  I put on my tightest pants and stretched my way into being one with the trees in my living room.  And I really liked it!  Like I can't wait to do it again.  The only problem is I'm so sore that I waddle like a pregnant lady now.  Achieving balance with the universe has it's sacrifices of course.

Brad taught a little ditty at church yesterday and I was so proud of him.  After it was all over I sort of felt like I had shared my husband for the weekend and so I made him tell me I was great a few extra times before bed. 

He said I was an unstoppable force. 

"Oh, that was good",  I said.  And then we high fived of course. 

Thankful...

He is a small man who never takes off his windbreaker.  He drinks 3 cups of coffee before 2:00.  He is polite but in a way that causes a panic attack.  He is the auditor.  And the last few days he has turned our office upside down. 

Thankfully I have a job with no responsibility so I sit at my desk watching others run around like crazy turkeys.  I don't think I will ever want a real job again.  Forget working hard and making something of myself.  This is perfection. 

Last night we went over to the Keith's to celebrate the arrival of their new flat screen.  We ate quiche and spinach salad with blackberries.  I played trains with their little boy and wished my life was as simple as his.  Amy and I worked on the thousand piece puzzle while sipping white wine and making fun of Brad.  The smell of brownies with peanut butter chips filled the air.  I felt very happy to be there and very thankful for friends to celebrate silly things with.  We watched a movie and ended with a little Britney dance party.  You know, the usual. 

There is so much to be thankful for if you really look.

I couldn't be more pleased with the holidays coming up.  I feel very present this year.  With all the uncertainty that's in our lives the holidays are a welcomed distraction.  A little cocoon I can hide in while all the other stuff gets figured out. 

So enjoy every bit of the preparing and eating and food coma and awkward family moments.  They are what make your life great.

Gobble Gobble! 

lessons in being mean...

There are only a few moments that if I could do over I would be life ruining mean.  I like to think about this on that curved part of the 55 freeway when everyone else is mad because of the slow mergers.  My eyes get squinty as I glare through my windshield, imagining tiny versions of them duck taped to the hood ornament - hair blowing in the wind.  This is their punishment for sucking as a human.  Take note of the Holy Spirit working in my life.

Sammy S: 7th grade History class.  He called me chubby with a piercing tone.  I rolled my eyes and shifted my attention to the teacher Mr. Hirshi who was a pervert.  I couldn't win.  That little comment would haunt me even in my twenties.  But when little Sammy S. is eyeball to eyeball with me I tell him that HE, in fact, was waaaaaaaaay chubbier than I ever was and double IN FACT, his facebook page currently estimates him at weighing in as a whale.  And then I pray for him.

I should pause to tell you that I am not often hurt.  But when I am the Lord and His Angels help you. 

Then there was the lady who lived in South Carolina.  She told me that I could never be a successful marriage and family therapist because I was single and without a family.  She encouraged me to focus more on finding a man so I could have his children and then once they were raised and out of my house, I would have something to offer the world - but my husband still had to be my number one priority always and if my job interfered with any of his needs I would need to quit immediately.  I usually let this hag scream her head off while I drive 80.  I don't talk back to stupid.

And then there is that one person.  The one that I think about sometimes late at night.  I've imagined them stranded on the side of the road and I drive by in satisfaction.  I see red when I think of them.  But I must tell you that being mean to this one is a kind of exhaustion that is worse than the pain they caused.  The more I tell them how I really feel, the more I remember what they did and the more I feel like it's happening all over again.  Because the real pain is that what happened cannot be undone.  This infuriates me.  And so there, on the 55 freeway, I get trapped in a tornado of mean and hurt - the wind whipping insults and comebacks all around me.

The only relief I know of is forgiveness.

This always feels like the worst possible idea ever.  Especially when I was loving and kind and helpful and compassionate and they were not.  But even there, that wind starts up again.

I'm working on it.

plates and soul mates...

The other night I saw an out of state plate but couldn't quite see where it was from.  I sped up for a gander but the truck went faster.  You should know I have a strong belief that God's will can be found on license plates.    I sped up again but the truck soared off into the distance.  "Figures" I said, rolling my eyes.  God's will was on the back of that Chevy and I would never know.  I've had one other theory that involved a complicated equation of vanilla frozen yogurt equaling the discovery of my soul mate.  It turned out to be more indigestion than revelation.

One time I asked God "Where will we live God?" in a polite yet firm voice.  That's when I saw plates from Arizona, Texas, Illinois and New York and nearly had a seizure.  My theory had worked a little too well.

And are you about as sick of reading posts about waiting as I am writing them?  And they're so vague right? 

Hands down the hardest part about waiting is what it does to your view of God.  The lie is that He's cruel.  It can feel like you're in a prison, fingers wrapped around the bars and forehead pressed in the gap, and God is behind the corner with the key.  He's passive or busy; the worst are the days you believe He hears you but doesn't care. 

And things like the license plate theory become a way of coping because if you didn't laugh about it you would do the troubling laugh/cry that frightens people. 

So cheers to those who wait!  We have perfected the dance of trusting, pouting and praising the God who loves us.

beauty from ashes...

Yesterday was a normal yesterday.  Three years ago it was the day my husband's family lost their house in a fire. 

I remember the nerves of that day, headed off to a wedding that was making my stomach crawl.  The air was hot and full of static.  My dress clinging to me in the worst way.  I noticed the smoke getting off the freeway and even took pictures of it to show Brad.  Having lived in a city where brush fires happen every year, it never crossed my mind to be concerned. 

Walking towards the church I remember tasting the ash.  It made my eyes sting.  Sitting through the ceremony my thoughts lingered to my own wedding someday and I whispered a prayer that Brad would be my groom.  On our way to the reception Brad asked if we could stop by and check on his mom who was alone at the house.  I was annoyed with his request because of my nerves about the day.

"Sure" I said, as I placed my hand on the back of his neck.  I could tell he was concerned. 

It wasn't until we pulled in the driveway that I noticed the black sky.  My gut started to be concerned too.  We chatted with Muriel inside, acted casual.  I'm sure I tried to be funny to put us all at ease.  Muriel went in to the other room and then I saw it.  The little flame graphic on the channel 4 news that was about to hit San Antonio Road.  My gut was screaming now and I was frozen.  I called out for Brad.  He took one look at it and ran to the backyard.  You could already see the tops of the flames crawling over the hillside. 

I stood there frozen, staring at my boyfriend scrambling to turn on the hose that didn't have any water pressure.  I had no idea what to do.  I knew the house would go. 

Brad began to give orders and we followed.  I ran around the house taking pictures of every room which would mostly end up blurry because we only had minutes.  The 3 of us ran around the house with faces that went from shock to fear and back to shock.  Just 15 minutes ago we were chatting in the living room.  I grabbed every picture on the wall I could find.  Brad and Muriel went in and out of the house with whatever they could carry. 

I remember running down the hill and losing my earring.  I remember Muriel rummaging through papers not sure what to take.  I remember the look on Brad's face. 

When the flames were in the backyard we had to leave.  That was it.  There was nothing else we could do.   The fire had already reached the street and for a brief moment I thought we were trapped.  I called for Tugger and he jumped into my car.  I tried my best to calm him, rubbing the back of his ears.  The noise of the panic had been so loud for those 15 minutes and now the silence of my car was deafening.  I called my dad and cried.

We had no idea what to do or what was happening to the house.  We parked at a church and let Tugger run around.  We drove to a Panera Bread to get some food which felt as strange as it sounds.  That's where we got the call that the house was engulfed in flames on the news.  We all cried sitting at our table with the sandwiches and chips that we would never eat.  The house was gone.

It was a strange feeling for me.  I wasn't yet a part of their family and it wasn't my house that had been lost.  But Brad and I had talked about getting married in that backyard.  We had our first kiss on that couch.  and I realized that I would never see baby pictures of my husband.  Small things compared to the loss of the Thayers, but it was painful.  And there would be many firsts after that day.  The first time we saw the house, only the chimney left standing.  The first time Brad would operate a fork lift and I would lay sod.  The first time I would love another family as much as I love my own.  And as the house was being rebuilt, so were the memories. 

One year and one week later I married Brad in the new backyard.  It is the most tangible example I have of God's ability to turn ashes into beauty.  More and more I see that this is the theme of our lives.  Some things will never be the same after the fire has damaged them, but God finds a way to rebuild.  Houses and lives included.

redeeming new years...

new years eve has always been a glittery disappointment.  all dressed up and no where to go.  who am i kidding, dressed up?  more like my sweat pants are stuck to the couch and going out seems worse than death.  but in my new years dreams, i have a closet full of little black dresses and a fancy party to attend.  a party with interesting people, old friends, wine in long stem glasses and constant chatter that erupts into laughter every few minutes.  we're all still high off of christmas and even higher off the fresh start of a new year.  if you're planning one of these parties you have now read this and know my desire to be invited.  i will see the pictures on facebook.   

last years new years eve was to date, the worst one ever.  2010 would end with my husband and i sitting in a car, in a driveway, crying and feeling hopeless.  2010 overall kind of sucked so it felt fitting.  ever have one of those?  it felt straight out of a movie, 2 newlyweds down on their luck, feeling hopeless and tired but more in love than ever.  holding hands, crying in the car parked in the driveway of his parents house as the clock strikes 2011.  my tears were gut wrenching desperation.  i couldn't imagine living another year like this and yet the radio clock was telling me it was already here and so i had no choice.  where's that guy who predicts the end of the world when you need him? 

i started thinking about redeeming new years in july.  i was lying on the beach smiling, still thinking about the time i told my boss to suck it back in may.  i thought about all the possibilities that can happen within a year. 

"where will we be this new years?  what will have happened?!" 

and the best feeling of course was the hope.  to lose your hope seems trivial and mildly over dramatic, unless of course you're the one who has lost it.  it feels like death, but you're forced to live.  and come to think of it i did feel like a zombie in 2010.  but there on that beach i was able to dream and see all of the what could be's again and it felt to my heart like the warm sun on my skin. 

and so this new years whether i'm in sweat pants or a shimmery black dress, i will be lifting my glass to hope, because i got it back.

the art of being ridiculous...

my mind is floating and my mood is heavenly.  classical christmas music will do that.  it's the warm blanket to the normal and average.  i'm relaxed and whispering kind blessings to all that walk through the lobby.  i caught myself swaying in my chair and vicki smiled.  a miracle in itself.

last night was a silly night, but one that filled me with thankfulness. 

to appease my husband on tuesday i pinky swore to clean my side of the bedroom on wednesday.  pinky swears are tricky.  what real meaning can come from two little fingers hugging?  well to brad thayer it speaks of your character and overall love for jesus.  and he insists on seeing the floor of the bedroom which i've always thought was more his problem than mine.  but come wednesday i knew he hadn't forgotten the pinky promise. 

i tried all of my best distractions.  charm, deception, baking.  i tried to instill a great fear about what cleaning would do to my delicate features.  i used my spiritual gift of manipulation to guilt him into thinking cleaning would single handily throw off my weight loss, spiraling our lives off it's axis and i, being his forever large wife, did not wish that fate upon us. 

when i saw that wasn't working i pulled the hood over my head and remained motionless on the couch for twenty minutes. 

he was calm.  he was steady.  he was all the reasons i love him. 

i said dramatic, ridiculous things and he laughed a real, deep laugh. and in one of those moments where a girl is subconsciously testing her boy, i felt his adoration for me.  he was enjoying this.  he was enjoying me.  because we are not just husband and wife, we are friends. 

i sighed, still motionless in the corner.  i knew i would surrender.

brad has the ability to get me to do the right thing without ever having to say it.

with a pathetic whimper i asked if i should clean or go to the gym first.  clearly these are decisions i'm incapable of making myself.  and like that, the antics were over.

later that evening i thanked him for helping me do everything i said i was going to do that night. 

"you're welcome" he said, and then we high fived.

breathe and choose...

you should know that yesterday i reached a category six level of boredom which led me to do an investigative search regarding bristol palin's alleged plastic surgery.  i can confirm the makings of a chin implant and lipo in various places.  also her son is very cute.  which then led me to google "jamie lynn spears" which was followed by an embarrassing long stalk sesh looking deep into the lives of other famous teen mom's and their children.  end scene.

and then i thought "why does God have to be so dramatic?"  this of course is completely unrelated to that troubling first paragraph.  God always shows up, He always comes through.  but why at the very end God?  because some of us have situations where we're running out of time.  we're looking at this thing that's headed straight for us and the clock is ticking and we've exhausted all our human resources and we're like "what is going to happen?!"  and God is busy crafting his plan.  slowly.  and he will provide at the last minute.  with jazz hands.  but it can be a little maddening. 

i guess i will hang on til the end and watch him do something delightful like he always does.  like all the other times i was running out of time.  faith is a choice i suppose.  freaking out is also a choice but it only leads to eating sugar and not sleeping.  i choose faith.

a woman in her thirties...

a woman in her thirties is different than a woman in her twenties.  naturally.

her twenties were spent squirming around in the big arm chair of life, trying to get comfortable.  she was antsy for life to get going, so the chair seemed like a waste of time.  a woman in her thirties slowly sits down, puts her head back and let's her being sink in.  she's learned that time is precious and a deep arm chair should never be wasted.  twenties spends her time dreaming of what she could be and focuses on what isn't.  a woman in her thirties has the sober realization of what she has to offer.  what she does with it is up to her.  

she walks a little taller, speaks softer, she laughs louder.  she listens better.  she doesn't care what twenties thinks.  she has a greater capacity to love.  she wants simplicity.  and only a few friends.  she laughs at the things that would have mortified her as a twenty.  other women are no longer seen as a gauge of where she should be.  a woman in her thirties seeks to genuinely encourage.  she does without the fluff, gets rid of the excess and embraces the real.  she didn't think this is where she would be, but she's going with it. 

she still struggles with insecurities but has learned how to fight back.  she knows when to be bold and when to keep her mouth shut.  she's stopped whining about the things she doesn't like to do and just does them.  she appreciates the sacrifices her parent's made.  she realizes that cliche isn't all that bad.

she's a new mom, a gifted artist, a sweet spirit.  she's a funny lady, a supportive partner, a wise word.  she lights up when she talks about her baby. 

she asks for less and gives more.

she is the envy of a woman in her forties and the fear of women in their twenties. 

it is good to be her. 

the worn out blue book...

i got nothin. 

the creativity fell off me.

maybe i covered it with red hair.

maybe it's in the pile of clothes on my floor.

but it's gone lately. 

i've tried all the usual places of inspiration.  real housewives, interaction with my boss, kelly clarkson.  but it leaves me in the same place.  the place where i am, but don't want to talk about.  that waiting place.  help me jesus.  right?  omg.  but i don't want to talk about that. 

let's talk about her.  the greatest author ever, a woman who's perspective and voice led me to read two whole books with words and pages and no pictures.  reading her words was like a massage for my aching body.  is that weird?  it tasted like the sweet potatoes with little marshmallows at thanksgiving.  it sounded like that first knock on the door from a girl scout with her cookies.  um?  she put to pen the words that tell my story; words i couldn't create myself.  ah, there we go.  when i read Bittersweet it was the first time a book made me cry.  her words made the pain in my life more intense, but in a good way.  that blue book became a source of comfort for me and i carried it around in my purse.  the corners are folded over, the spine is bent and there's a coffee stain on the front.  if only my bible looked like this.  that book made a difference in my life and i'm thankful.

i would like to have coffee with her someday.  or maybe i could move to chicago to be her nanny?  we could go to trader joes together.  is that weird? 

check out Shauna Niequist's books Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet and be happy.  Try to get them by tomorrow because it's supposed to rain and Shauna's books should be read while curled up in a blanket, listening to the rain.