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I’m writing this from my little Droid phone, so please ignore typos and misspelled words. This year, Kyle and I decided to send our Thanksgiving holiday with his family in Cincinnati, and it’s been wonderful. Yesterday, his dad and step-mom hosted and we got to spend quality time with a lot of people… which of course we love. Today, after our morning visit to IKEA, we went over to his cousin’s to celebrate with his mom’s side.

You never know how you’ll feel at an in-laws holiday… will it feel like home? Will I get their jokes? But I can say without hesitation that I absolutely feel so at home with his family. I love it so much, and am grateful for my husband’s family.

So here’s to a new Thanksgiving… you’ve been sweet to us this year.

I’m feeling a little “off” today.

Today is the first time in 23 years that I have not spent the night with my family on the eve of Thanksgiving. Tomorrow will be the first time I spend Thanksgiving without the Durham’s or the Cadwell’s, the first time I go without Grandma’s chicken noodles or Gram’s corn pudding, the first time I don’t either see my Cadwell cousins or my Durham cousins. The first, the first, the first…

There’s a lot of history with Thanksgiving for me, as with every other family, I’m sure. Thanksgiving has always been the most non-complicated holiday in my family’s life. Stay with Mom on Wednesday/Thursday, go with Dad on Thursday night through Saturday morning. To be honest, I don’t really remember what my Thanksgiving was like pre-divorced parents, but I know that post-divorce, it was a time for stability, consistency, the same faces, familiar foods, familiar places, etc. And for the rest of you kids-of-divorce out there, you probably know what I mean. No matter how crazy your schedule is shifting between parents, you can savor Thanksgiving, no matter what family you’re with. Because there’s a plan. Because it means that for one day (or in my case, three), you get to just sit and eat with your family, and not worry about anything else.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sad about this year. Don’t misread me: I LOVE MY HUSBAND’S FAMILY. They are more than I ever could have dreamed in a family, and I really mean that. They’re funny, real, quirky, weird, and the very opposite of straight-laced. I fit in perfectly, because let’s be honest, I’m the weirdest person I know. But to say that I won’t miss spending the morning with my mom, or driving to Evansville with my dad, brother, and crazy dog, or wish I could play, “Oh, hell” with the Durham’s for hours would be like saying I don’t really like GLEE: pure denial.

And so on this Thanksgiving, I am grateful. Thanksgiving could be a painful memory because of divorce, but because my parents are so stinking awesome, it’s not. They made sure Thanksgiving was a time of joy, food, turkey, stuffing, and Christmas Vacation. And for that, I cannot say thank you enough. I know that life has not been perfect in our little dysfunctional family, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. So even though I’ll miss you Durham’s and Cadwell’s, know that I am being taken care of by an equally crazy family that loves me in spite of my Durham-ness.

A year ago around this time of year, I walked down the aisle. The photo you see to your left was from the rehearsal day, when my nerves were on high-speed and Erin escaped with  me to get my mani/pedi in the morning. :) Tomorrow, along with eleven other girls, I’m doing the same. Erin is walking down the aisle in TWO DAYS… and really, there are no words to accurately express how much I love and admire this girl woman. A friend ten years in the making, I could not be more honored to stand beside her. She is a woman of integrity, purity, honesty, love, compassion, passion, joy, and words could go on and on. What I love even more about Erin is that she is whole… whole in Jesus and no one else. Josh is an excellent addition to her life, but he does not complete her life. Jesus does. There will be more to come later, but for now, I’m just excited.

Over the past few days I’ve been re-introduced to a book I bought a couple of years ago, The Autobiography of Martin Luther King Jr. I purchased it at The King Center in Atlanta, GA on a youth ministry event a while back, and have just now gotten around to reading it to its entirety. I’m pretty ashamed of myself that prior to my visit, all I knew about Dr. King was “I have a dream,” and that he was a pretty big initiator in the Civil Rights Movement. Shame on me, I know, hit my wrist… I’m embarrassed, too.

So anywho, I pulled the autobiography back out again this past week as I was searching for wisdom for our upcoming series in youth ministry world, and five hours later, my nose was still in its pages, as if Dr. King was sitting in my office bestowing all kinds of wisdom on me from 50+ years ago.

I don’t know why I have the tendency to forget that the battles I’m fighting have already been fought, that somewhere, someone has echoed the same sentiments about ______, _________, and _______. But today, I am thankful for Dr. King. Not just because he told people about his dream, but because he lived in a way that no one could ignore. Today I was struck by these words in particular, from The Poor People’s Campaign.

I read Das Kapital and The Communist Manifesto years ago when I was a student in college. And many of the revolutionary movements in the world came into being as a result of what Marx talked about. The great tragedy is that Christianity failed to see that it had the revolutionary edge. You don’t have to go to Karl Marx to learn how to be a revolutionary. I didn’t get my inspiration from Karl Marx; I got it from a man named Jesus, a Galilean saint who said he was anointed to heal the broken-hearted. He was anointed to deal with the problems of the poor. And that is where we get our inspiration. And we go out in a day when we have a message for the world, and we can change this world and this nation.

Thanks, Dr. King, for reminding us that we are not the only ones that believe Jesus can change the entire world.

There’s sort of been this re-occurring theme over the course the past 23 years, and it goes like this, “Hey change, what’s up? I’ll take you on all at once. I know it would be better for my health and sanity to spread you out, but why not just tackle you all in one month, or one year. That way I can just go go go and eventually fall on the floor and cry.”

All of that was true except the falling on the floor and crying part. I usually do my crying in the shower. :)

So-are you ready for this? Kyle and I are closing on our first house today. In one word, I’m ecstatic. Everything about being a homeowner excites me. Here’s just my short list: pulling into a garage, taking the garbage to the end of my driveway and not a dumpster, opening the back door to let Abby go run and play, our kitchen and living room being a place of rest, relaxation, and fellowship, our guest bathroom being clean for more than a day, sitting on the back deck with friends in the fall, spring, and summer, playing in the yard when it snows, building snowmen, getting mail from our mailbox, oh there’s so much more. It’s the little things, people!

It’s funny, just a few years ago at Thanksgiving I was laughing and making fun of my cousin and his wife for spending an entire Thanksgiving day clipping coupons to buy things for their house. I remember saying, “Really? That brings you joy? To find out that an iron costs $29 instead of $35?” I couldn’t imagine that life. Now I’m rejoicing about washing machines and paint colors, too. And the thought of having takeout in our new living room while we are surrounded by boxes and opportunities tonight is just sweet.

I love this phase of life. And I feel bad for the 19-year-old me that scoffed at it.

Today I began packing up our first home. It’s bittersweet. Caitlin came over to help me get a little organized, and after we came up with a plan (I use that word gently), we got to business. What’s even weirder is we spent a good three hours on the kitchen and I can hardly tell I’ve packed anything.

As sad as it feels to pack up our first home together, I’m ready to move onward. So here’s to a little more consistency, having a living room big enough for lots of friends, and a kitchen to feed their bellies.

Indianapolis, we’re here to stay for a while. :)

To tell you the truth, I don’t even remember what day we picked up Abigail. But I know it was a Thursday, and I know it was in February.

I remember the day clearly because my brother and sister-in-law lost their precious baby Whitney that morning, and you never forget a morning like that. I started the coffee and Kyle and I both just sort of wandered around our apartment, getting everything together while at the same time not even knowing how to mourn the loss of a child we never got to know. It’s an odd feeling to mourn what might have, could have, or should have been. It’s a different kind, and definitely not the same kind of mourning what once was. To go from such joy and excitement to not being an aunt and uncle anymore after all in what seemed like the snap of a finger felt punishing. But no matter how we felt, or how much we wanted to lay around all morning and stare at the wall, we had semi-impulsively committed to pick up Abigail that day.

There’s sort of theme to our road trips, regardless of which car we take. My iPod usually wins, because no matter how much Kyle thinks he has good taste in music, the truth remains that he just doesn’t. Okay, that’s a little unfair. It’s not that he doesn’t have good taste–it’s more that he just doesn’t care. He enjoys oldies, will listen to just about anything acoustic-guitar-lead, and aside from that, it’s all mush to him.

Rosie Thomas is usually appropriate for any season, but specifically winter. There’s something about looking outside your window to a dreary, gray sky and listening to Rosie Thomas pound it out on the keys that just fits. So we began our journey, with Rosie Thomas singing something like, “I have much farther to go,” and we rode most of the way in silence. After arriving to Bethel, Ohio, we got out of our car and put aside our grief for a minute to welcome the new addition to our own family.

Nobody ever tells you when you’re young that when you get older, life gets more complicated. No one seems to mention that you are going to encounter loss time and time again, and each time it’s going to rip your heart out just a little bit more. People don’t highlight that love and pain come hand in hand, and that the harder you love something or someone, the more painful it is when they are taken away from you. And not that I’d want them to, and I probably wouldn’t have listened, anyhow. But I do find it strange and somewhat unsettling that while I watched all the mommies grow big bellies, sip tea, and talk about baby clothes I never heard the stories about the women that longed for motherhood.

I remember that February day. It was a day I realized for probably the 3rd time in my life that there are days that no words will do. And, that with every pain and harsh feeling this world brings, there can be a taste of sweetness. Somewhere. So thanks, Abigail Wilson, for bringing just a bit of sweetness to a very bitter day for us.

I stopped ignoring my soul’s cry for rest and rejuvenation and decided to spend some time away over the next few days. I drove to Cincinnati today to stay at a little hideaway called Sustainable Faith. I’ve “unplugged” from all things technology–Yahoo! articles, Twitter, email  (besides my husband), and yes, even Facebook. And so you’re wondering, “And you’re still on your blog because. . .?” Because. I love to write. Not that I’m any good at it, but I love it. And I have never been reenergized by completely disconnecting from human life all around me. So, in between naps, walks, delicious food, and books that feed my soul, I will be writing.

But for now, I’m going to go join some strangers for dinner and sip hot tea.

On Thursday after my delightful day of rest I came up with a list of “things I do” (inspiration from Shauna Niequist’s book Bittersweet). To give you a little picture of where she was headed, here’s an excerpt…

I love the illusion of being able to do it all, and I’m fascinated with people who seem to do that, who have challenging careers and beautiful homes and vibrant minds and well-tended abs. Throw in polite children and a garden, and I’m coming over for lessons. Out to lunch one day with my friend Denise, I asked her about it. Denise is a mother of four, and a grandmother, and she works and writes and cooks and travels–and–most important to me at the time–she seems settled in some fundamental way. There’s something she knows about herself that I didn’t know yet about myself, certainly.
…
And this is what Denise told me: she said it’s not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What’s hard, she said, is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about..” (53-54)

And thus came her list of “things I do,” and “things I don’t do.” After a few days of contemplation, I think I’m ready to commit to my own list of “things I don’t do.” However, before I begin, I feel as though it’s necessary to echo some of Shauna’s “things I don’t do,” since some of hers mirrored my own things I just don’t do. Why reinvent the wheel?

Thanks Shauna, for getting me started.
I don’t garden. … I’ve been feeling like sort of a loser because I don’t garden. I have friends who garden, and they talk a lot about the spiritual implications of new life springing from the earth, the deep communion with God that they experience as they lovingly tend to their herbs and flowers. But I’m going to have to miss out on all that, because for now, no gardening.

I don’t do major home improvement projects (AMEN!) or scour flea markets and antique shops for the perfect home accessories. No expectation for perfect housekeeping, either–I try to clean countertops and no horrible smells, but beyond that, it’s pretty rough. At our house, “home improvement” involves clearing off the coffee table every few days and loading and unloading the dishwasher.

I don’t make my bed in the morning, standing on the adolescent belief that there’s no sense in doing something you’re just going to undo at the end of the day.

Scrapbooking and photo album making are both on that list, too.

I don’t spend time with people who routinely make me feel less than I am, or who spend most of their time talking about what’s wrong with everyone else and what’s wrong with the world. Instead, I want to spend time talking about what we can do about what’s wrong.

AHEM. My turn.
I don’t know the art of being “hostess.” I try, seriously-I try, but there’s something “natural” about it that I haven’t mastered yet. I don’t know what that is, and maybe that’s the problem-that I’m even trying at all, but regardless, for now, people will just have to come on over and not judge. My house is open (except for Thursday), just don’t anticipate cherry pie on the kitchen table. I care about you, and I love you, it’s just that I would rather spend time talking to you than wondering what you want to eat or drink. My fridge is “come one, come all,” so this is your invitation to be my guest at our house.

I don’t shave every day. Sorry if that’s way too personal, but seriously, there’s only so much time. I also don’t care about my nails… I’m going to bite them, anyhow.

I don’t do well with “small talk.” I am getting better, really, but most of the time-I am guilty of wanting to jump into the main dish before even getting a sip of water. Sometimes I always want to know the heart of a person before I even know why their hair is the way it is, what football team they root for, or why they have a Southern draw but live in Indianapolis, etc. If I have ever tried to start a conversation with you about any of those things, it was probably horrifically awkward. Just a guess, right?

I’ll quote another friend in ministry on this–I don’t fight about stupid stuff or stuff I can’t know. I don’t care whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, or anything else. That’s not to say I don’t like conversation, I do enjoy conversations with people that can teach me something new and converse about things that matter. It’s just that I want to be intentional with my time, and fighting about things we can’t know seems wasteful.

Alright, that’s it for now. What’s on your list of dos/don’ts?

I’ve been reading Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist (alert: expect several excerpts from her book to come in future posts), and it’s come at an incredibly convenient time. There are several things she has spoken to my soul about, but the first is her list of “things I do/things I don’t do.” I thought for good measure I would make my own list of “things I do,” and “things I don’t do,” after her inspiration, of course. So, here it goes…

Things I Do:

I am making my best attempts to keep my faith in Christ the center of my life, the center of my marriage, and the center of my relationships. I actively pursue the Spirit’s guiding in my life… especially during a season where I feel like I’m grabbing at the dark.

I am getting better at giving the best part of my day to my husband. I’m not there yet, but it’s something I know I need to spend much more intentional time fostering. He is the most important person in my life, and therefore, I don’t want him to have the leftovers of my day.

I work hard at my job. I desire to serve people well and love them fully. With that said, I’m not perfect. I recognize that I am not God and that I cannot be God for people. However, I do pray that God would use me as a small part of a much bigger story.

I am serious about living in community. I don’t take this lightly because I know that without it, I will dry up like a raisin waiting on the curb to be ground into the dirt. No that metaphor didn’t make sense, and that’s because life without people doesn’t make sense. That, and I couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. But seriously–I refuse to live life in an isolated state of loneliness. Therefore, I spend the majority of my free time with people that I can pour life into and vice versa. I love laughing and having real conversations that go beyond the surface.

I do the grocery shopping. Grocery shopping relaxes me, and I have no idea why. At the beginning part of our marriage, due to schedules, Kyle did most of the grocery shopping. No more. I love going through aisles, looking at brands, smelling ingredients and watching families shop together. There may come a day when grocery shopping is not relaxing, but for now, grocery shopping is on my list of “things I do.”

I rest to live, not live to rest. I purposefully take Thursday as a day of rest/relaxation. If you were not standing beside me on my wedding day, chances are slim that you will hear from me on a Thursday. And please, take no offense to that. My husband, my parents, and my best friends are the only ones that do not fall into this category–so do not feel in any way, shape, or form that I don’t love you if I don’t answer your call on Thursdays. It’s just that I’m probably answering your call every other day, and so–in order to have a real, honest, intentional conversation on that day, I have to take Thursday to unplug, relax, and reenergize myself for the other days.

Now that I’ve come up with my things I do list, I’ll have to spend some real time thinking about “things I don’t do.” This list might take a little longer… but I know that “gardening” will definitely make that one.