Wednesdays in the Word: Verse J

The way God has ordained these verses to fall across my life has been nothing short of awe-inducing. Like I've told you before, I picked out these verses years ago, when I compiled them as a graduation gift for a friend. It's not a coincidence that as I rea d through them now...they are perfectly timed.

Here's this week's word of encouragement:

Monday night, I sat in the living room, stalking Lisa Harper's Twitter page. She was traveling home from Haiti with her newly adopted daughter, Missy. Lisa is single and has been working for two years to bring home a little girl who captured her heart.

Two. Years.

That's a lot of waiting. And a lot of paperwork.

And then suddenly...everything sped up and Lisa flew to Haiti and turned right around to fly home with little Missy. And an entire army of {very famous} friends arrived at the Nashville airport to welcome her home. {I mean really, it's not a bad day when Sheila Walsh AND Mandisa AND Todd and Angie Smith drop by to welcome you home!}

Throughout the end of that journey, Lisa would sum up every tweet and Instagram post with #onlyGod. I'm not a big fan of the hashtag, but I loved seeing those words at the end of each update. I loved being reminded that everything that seemed so impossible about this thing...was in no way impossible in the mind of God.

Lynne and I interviewed Lisa a little over two years ago, when she was in the process of adopting a baby yet to be born. She was so excited for her dream to be a mom to come true, and then the baby was born...and the birth mom changed her mind.

Lisa was crushed, yet she remained hopeful that God had a plan.

And He did. A little girl named Missy who not only needed a home...she needed Lisa's home. They even look alike. It's uncanny.

It truly is only God. And it will be amazing when Missy grows up and looks back and sees how very #onlyGod this journey to become Lisa's actually was.

I stalked the pictures Monday night and cried, not because I want a child...because that's not my deep ache. I cried because Lisa's answer to prayer boosted my own heart to remember that what looks impossible to me right now...is SO not impossible for HIM.

And what an AMAZING journey it will be when He brings about the answer in a way that ONLY He could do.

I want to leave you with 2 things:

1. Whatever your impossibility...it's not impossible to your God.

2. You'll never know when your journey becomes someone else's faith-booster. Live it well. Point to God. 

The Making of Bekahland

When I bought the house...I prayed fervently that this would be a place where God moved. I didn't look at it as an investment, but rather a ministry base. I wanted to make it home - an inviting place where people wanted to visit. I wanted it to have its own unique flavor and flair that people recognized as mine.

Maybe you'll get this...and it sounds a bit silly...but it's true. As excited as I was to have this house and to make it mine and to carry on the legacy...it was bittersweet to do all that on my own. I'd always dreamed of making it home for someone, and it was hard, sometimes, to be enthused about doing this on my own. But many years before, I'd read Debby Jones and Jackie Kendall's book Lady in Waiting and remembered the admonition to not put my life on hold until I had someone to hold, so I set about making a home.

I painted rooms {because I could...without asking permission} and had some successes and failures in paint choice. I planted flowers {we won't talk about the time I failed to mix up the tulip bulbs and planted one row of yellow on one side of the porch and one row of red on the other side of the porch}. I invited our student workers over to watch TV shows at night...I opened the guest room to friends passing through if they wanted to spend the night...and I held a ladies' Bible study here for several years, too.

I had scrapbooking marathons with friends, sleepovers with my friends' kids {no one really slept when they were supposed to} and hosted Christmas dinner.

I wrote and cooked and decorated and prayed and read and tried to live a good, full life in this place entrusted to me.

My skills in home improvement were...ahem...sad. I hired out a few improvements and did what minimal {read: pitiful} landscaping attempts I could muster. It became home. It became all I hoped it would. It became something I believe Grandma and Grandpa would have been pleased to visit.

And then I started dating Isaac. The first time we met in person was not in this house. It was not even in this town. It was miles away, and when I drove home and walked in the front door, late at night, I stared around at the familiar walls...with all the memories...and in an instant...it wasn't home anymore.

I called one of my friends and said to her, "I can't believe it. He's never even been here...and yet this is suddenly not home anymore." He'd already told me of his hope to marry me, and with those words...for the first time, home became a person...not a place.

Weeks went by, and this house became a place I couldn't be...and that had never happened to me before. I drove. I walked. I sat on the back porch. Anything...but inside the walls that felt empty and crushing.

And then the phone call. The one in which he told me it was really, really over. The one in which he told me he was moving on with his life and I needed to do the same.

Ironically the call came at the start of a weekend when this house was a hub of visitors...in town for our 10 year college reunion. I was hosting...and cooking...and welcoming...and realizing I had to find a way to make this a home again. Isaac had walked away and I might never find love again. If I couldn't have love, I had to have home.

And even as I sought to make that happen, I hoped, way down in the deep places of my heart, that the feeling of a person-filled-home really would happen for me someday.

On My Own

Thanks so much for being willing to read along this past week on my house adventures. It's been fun to tell this story! Just a couple more days and you'll be all caught up! :)

I rented Grandma and Grandpa's house from my sister for four years. I had a roommate for the first nine months...and then she moved out. I was on my own for three terrifying months...the first time I had ever TRULY lived on my own in my natural lifetime.

My friend Christi bought me a kitten and named him Kaegan, and while I knew in my head that he was 100% ineffective against anyone coming into the house to harm me, his tiny furry presence was calming to me. I loved that little guy, and in the quiet days and long nights {full of light, because I refused to turn them off when I went to sleep} he kept me company.

A new roommate moved in then...I'd met her in college and she came back to Marion to attend graduate school. She stayed with me for three years, teaching me all manner of things I needed to know. We had a lot of laughter in this house...and our share of conflict, too. She was training to be a counselor, and I was a perfect test case for her.

In those three years, we lived a lot of life in that house. Movie nights...experimental cooking {and subsequent MASSIVE failures}...trying to mesh the decorating styles of a foo-foo girlie girl and a Harley-riding tomboy...celebrating holidays...welcoming friends...and much more. 

When she graduated, she told me she needed to move out on her own and start her own life...and I knew she was right. We were still friends, but neither of us really did well sharing a home with another girl. We wanted things our own way...and our ways were mightily different.

I was eager for a seasonal change in life, but petrified about what would come next. I'd never lived on my own, and for the first time, the thought of actually living on my own wasn't as scary as paying for it. Admittedly not stellar with math, I stared at my budget sheet and wondered if I could swing not only a mortgage payment, but also the full weight of all the utilities and other bills. It didn't make sense in my head...but then not much about math did make sense in my head.

In addition to all these thoughts, my sister told me that she needed a change in her life - one that freed her from the role of owning a rental. She would be happy to sell the house to me if I wanted to buy it...or she would put it on the market and I could buy or rent something else.

So, one evening, while Angela was gone, I strolled around the springtime backyard, inhaling the scent of lilacs and new grass...and I prayed. I was terrified of making the wrong decision...buying a house I couldn't afford OR losing a house our family had worked so hard to get back.

Not many times in my life have I heard the unmistakable Voice of God giving me direction, but that spring night was one time I did. Right out there in the yard, with no fanfare or fireworks, my heart knew. I was to stay. I was to buy the house. I was to buy it - AND not worry about the money, even if I didn't have a roommate.

This news filled me with peace...and yet was heavily bittersweet. I'd never contemplated buying a house without a husband by my side. It wasn't that I thought such a thing was wrong, but in my mind it somehow felt like admitting defeat.  Conceding that a husband might never show up. Plowing ahead into a dream that felt like something I should share with him...but he wasn't there.

I jumped in...without really knowing how to swim. I talked to banks and lenders...appraisers and contractors...my parents and sisters...my co-workers. They showered me with advice, some of which conflicted and some of which was miles over my head. I begged God NOT to let me do anything ridiculously stupid that would penalize me financially for the rest of my days, and with shaking hand...signed paper...after paper...after paper.

The house was mine. Angela was still living there when I signed for it and she celebrated my happy-home-ownership-to-you day with me by breaking open sparkling grape juice and toasting my new adventure.

And then she packed boxes and moved out, leaving Kaegan and me with an entire house for just the two of us. A house that seemed empty - not just of laughter and conversation, but also furniture. We spread out what we did have and named it home.

I quickly learned that while I'd insisted that the house be Grandma and Grandpa's for all the years I rented it, the dry ink bearing my name on the house now brought a new stirring to my heart. It had been theirs...but it was mine now, and I needed people to recognize that. I needed to recognize that.

I'm the much-baby of our family and without a husband or child to declare me a grown-up, I hoped the title of home owner would do the trick. Life didn't look the way I planned, but I needed someone - everyone - to see that I was a capable adult. And in many ways, I needed to see a capable adult emerging in myself.

So I bought a house.

A house with a sure foundation...and one I could build on.

The Shafferland Shuffle

* Last Sunday we got up early and baked breakfast for our Sunday School! We always enjoy doing that! The blood donation bus was at our church, so after Sunday School, Ryan paid it a visit and donated some blood. I paid it a visit too - but just to wait for him. {I'm a chicken.} After church was over, we joined our Sunday School class for a pizza party, which was a lot of fun - and then we took a nap for the rest of the afternoon. {Embarrassingly long.} Even though it was chilly, we took a walk, and then hunkered down for the night!

 * Monday was a cold, rainy day...spent running through puddles and wrestling umbrellas. After work, Ryan and I went to the gym, where my goal was to run a 5K, and I almost made it...but at the very end, there was a debacle on the track and my concentration got wrecked, and I quit. I was so frustrated!! So we came home and made quesadillas and rested while the rain poured outside.

* On Tuesday I went to this cute little shop that had vintage games...one of which I actually had when I was a kid! {I'm sure it belonged to someone else before me. I'm not vintage!} Ahhhh memories. We had the best evening that night...we went for a run in the evening sun, we ran into our friends John and Sandee and caught up with them, and then we all hunkered down - including Braeya - to watch the Duggars!

* Wednesday evening, after work, Ryan worked on the house we're trying to sell...touching up some paint. While he worked on that, I had dinner with a photography team that has offered to help me with some mentoring so I can apply to be a photographer with Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. Dinner was very good {Flat Top Grill!} and I learned much from them in our talk. When I got home, I was so stinking excited to see our daffodils finally bloomed! I declare it spring!

 * Thursday...oh my. The debacle I had at lunch! I went out to McDonald's with one of my work buddies, and the two of us got accosted by a man that was either on something...or...something. He was very angry with us and I don't remember the last time I felt that unsafe! I was so glad to get home to Ryan that night! We went out for a run, by way of our favorite construction trailer - with the woman who has been waving for months, and did a selfie with her. HA!! Gorgeous night for a run - and I especially appreciated the chalk congrats on the pavement! Don't know who it was meant for...but YES THANK YOU!!!!

* Friday night - OH MY GOODNESS! We had so much fun! We declared it date night, and it was so so so beautiful outside that we got hot dogs and root beer at the B&K and headed to the park for a picnic and digital scavenger hunt. We had a BLAST! When that was over, we {of course} went for coffee and then came home to finish getting my stuff ready for my speaking engagement on Saturday. What a great night!

* Yesterday was packed and wonderful. Ryan worked, and I headed to Eastgate Community Church to speak at their mother/daughter banquet. Loved being able to share and meet new people! After that, I took pictures at a one year old's birthday party - MAN she's cute! :) Then I drove to Ryan's house to help with some painting, and while we were there, we had an impromptu running date, dinner date, and ice cream date! A long, full day, but so good!

The Saturday Six

One.

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I actually cried laughing at some of Bitter Blue Betty's tweets. She's a recent Twitter find...and you know, without naming names...I think I know her.

Two.

Last week I told you I was hooked on the new season of 19 Kids and Counting. PRETTY EXCITED to see this news pop up on my Facebook feed this week. Jill's engaged! Ahhhh love a love story. {I texted the above picture to Ryan RIGHT AWAY because I knew he'd be dying to know.}

Three.

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Made. Me. Giggle. The picture AND the article.

Four.

Just when you think the good in the world has faded, stuff like this happens: Earlier this week, Ryan got a call from the plumber who worked so hard on our house a few weeks ago. He was doing another job not far from us, and the homeowner's reserve water in the bathtub had accidentally drained out. He asked Ryan if he could come over and get a couple of gallons from our outside faucet just so she had reserve water for the night, since her water would be completely off overnight. Of course we said yes, and the next night, Ryan got a call from an unknown number. It was the homeowner. She wanted to thank us for sharing our water. Seriously! We never would have expected her to track us down and thank us for a little water, but she did. Bless her! 

Five.

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I'm not even ON Instagram...which is odd to me because of my undying love for pictures, but I have to tell you this. If you are in need of a faith boost in your journey, flip through some of these photos on the lovely Lisa Harper's Instagram. Lisa travels with Women of Faith and I love her writing...and she's in the process of adopting a little girl from Haiti. She's been on this journey for two years and travels to Haiti TOMORROW to get Missy. My heart has been SO MOVED by how God has provided for her, and these pictures tell the story.

Six.

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Things I want for my office include...THIS.  Yep. That's a bicycle wheel. Genius.

The Familiar and the Reinvented

{If you haven't read the first few sections of the story...scroll down.}

When I saw Grandma and Grandpa's address on the computer screen, I forwarded the email to my entire family with the added note: Anyone want to buy me a house for graduation?

I was kidding. In a not kidding sort of way.


I sat back and waited for the "Ha ha! Good one!" replies, and instead messages such as "Call her and tell her not to sell it until we talk to her..." came to me.

Seriously??

So I emailed this mostly unknown-to-me person with an awkward, "Hey, you don't know me, but you bought my grandparents' house, and I get the feeling the family misses it and wants it back" reply.

Just a couple of nights later, I climbed in a car with the friend who planned to room with me after college and we pulled up in front of that house of memories again.

It looked different. The gargantuan bushes that hid the front porch were gone. The old screen door with the giant "K" in the middle had been replaced by an updated storm door. It looked different and yet looked like home.

She welcomed us inside and gave us an invitation to walk through the house at our leisure.





Everything was just like I remembered...with a hint of beautiful updates. Things Grandma and Grandpa would have loved.

Bedroom carpet pulled up and Grandpa's hardwood floors refinished.  Beautiful new paint colors throughout the house. A chandelier in the dining room. And textured wallpaper on the ceiling that made it look like a tin ceiling. Amazing.

It was fresh and beautiful...and yet still had the reminder of the home I'd always known. It even smelled the way I remembered...just like coffee.

We walked through the house and I knew it could be our home. My future roommate loved it too, and just a few days later, I was back in the living room, inhaling the coffee smell while my mom and sister walked through the house, looking at the new as it mingled with the familiar.

And before we left that day...the house was ours.

My sister bought it and my roommate and I signed contracts to rent it from her.

Y'all, it was beyond all I could have ever imagined. My roommate and I had been hoping for a decent apartment. We never dreamed God would pave the way for a whole HOUSE. A whole house that even though rented...could in many ways be ours. Abundantly above and beyond.

July 3, 2000...after a week of sickness that included a trip to the ER...we moved in. Trucks and cars filled with boxes lined the block and our friends and family moved us in.

A new start on a familiar foundation. A new generation of memories.

{PS - remember I'd been VERY SICK. I think the photos reflect that. Well. And it was just a bad phase in general.}

My bedroom was the same one I'd always slept in when I spent the night with Grandma and Grandpa...and then it was mine. Mine for real. No suitcases. no packing up in the morning.

Mine.

It was strange...to be in their house and not call it theirs. In fact, for a long time, I did call it theirs. I was living in their house.

When the first Thanksgiving rolled around, I hosted the traditional dinner and even served mac n cheese in Grandma's glass dish that I'd inherited. I tried to make it a holiday she'd be proud of. I tried to do it as she would have done.

It was a lesson I needed to learn...to not recreate the past...but to create a present and a future.

For the next four years, I lived in those walls, with two different roommates, and I tried to keep the past alive. I tried to do everything as Grandma and Grandpa would have done. I insisted things stay the same. I wanted to preserve a past rather than perfect a present.

And then came the summer when it all changed.

Letting Go

{If you missed parts 1 and 2 of this story, you can read them here and here...and then today's will make much more sense.}

I was a senior in high school when Grandma died.  She was the only grandparent I had left, and I still remember receiving the news. I remember going to the basement of my parents' home and crying and telling God I never again wanted to do this kind of grief by myself. Begged Him not to take anyone else away from me until I had someone to support me in that kind of hurt.

In the weeks following her death, my mom and aunt worked to clean out the house...and while they could remove and divide the things, the memories were permanently fixed. That box on bricks turned into a home...where we had celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, and where hours of conversation had taken place...held all those things.

I could no longer walk through the spare bedroom where I slept each time I spent the night...or sit at the top of the stairs where I played Hi-Ho-Cherry-O with my cousin the Christmas I received it as a gift...or wrestle my way to the far corner of the dining room to my assigned seat for Thanksgiving dinner...or dig a remote control out of the recliner late at night before settling in on the couch to snooze...or walk past that spot in the kitchen where Grandma discovered the half-gallon of ice cream after I'd accidentally left it out overnight...or walk through the yard where we had BBQ birthday parties in the summers.

In the great division of the stuff, I garnered a few treasures...the glass dish with the wicker basket that held the macaroni and cheese...the cedar chest Grandpa gave Grandma as a gift...a handful of random kitchen utensils...a set of everyday dishes to put aside for later when I'd have my own place.

But the house of memories went up for sale. And just a few weeks later, a young woman purchased it to have as her first home. Sixty years after Grandma and Grandpa walked into a box on bricks and got to work making it home, she walked into a home with a strong foundation and began making her own home.

***

Four years later, I sat at my newly acquired desk in the Financial Aid Office. Not yet a college graduate, I had to shake my head every time I stepped inside the blue walls of the office...and  realized it was mine. When my senior year began, I rather hoped I could land a secretarial job somewhere after college, and before the diploma was even in my hand, the office supervisors, who had watched me work as a student throughout my college career, offered me a full time job...as a Financial Aid Counselor.

Though I was scared out of my mind at the responsibility of the job, I took it, and before I knew quite what was happening, I had business cards and my own phone number and a real email address as an employee of the school.

And as the owner of this email address, I had access to fun messages...like all the stuff people sold via email...everything from clothing to houses. And so it was that on this particular day, I glanced over an email as it came in...a house for sale.

The address looked so very familiar.

I read the house description...sounded like a lovely home.

Then I went back to the address...

...and it hit me.

It was Grandma and Grandpa's home.

Wednesdays in the Word: Verse I

I've been having a blast the past couple of days telling you about a house...that became a home...and it's been the most beautiful unexpected joy to hear you tell me how much you're loving the story. It's dear to my heart, so I love hearing that you love it too. And never fear. It's not done. But...it's Wednesday...so we're taking a break to talk about my verse for the letter I.

Ryan and I are training for a 5K right now. It's a quick training...we don't have long before the race. Ryan probably doesn't even need to train, but I do. I could survive the thing, but I want to actually do better than my last one. {THAT shouldn't take much.} So this week we've been back in the gym and back on our outdoor path, running.

My body is not entirely amused with me. After nearly running the full 5K distance on Monday, my hips and legs said "WHY DO YOU HATE US?!!?!!?" Getting back out there and working at it again wasn't fun, but I know I have to keep pushing through if I'm going to have good results come race day.

My run last night was brief...and outside. I soaked up the sunshine, but the second half of the run was headlong into some fierce wind, and my aching legs felt a bit like jello. {Jello that failed to set.} But the advantage of running outside was that I could look up and see my ending point in the distance. So I peered through my zebra stripe sunglasses and watched as that line grew closer and closer. And even though I desperately wanted to collapse in a heap on the ground, I kept going.

As I drove to work yesterday morning, Laura Story's song Blessings played, and I sang along {loudly}...and tears came to my eyes. The words are so true. The rain and storms and hardest nights that I lived through...though I desperately wanted to just quit...were mercies in disguise. Mercies that made me stronger. Mercies that grew me into who I am today. Mercies that brought me to the finish line of a long season of singleness and the long-prayed-for gift of a husband.

Pressing on. It's not easy. It's not easy when it's physical labor. It's not easy when it's character-building labor. It's not easy when it's spiritual growth. But the reward at the end...always worth it.

I chose the picture for today because those little sprouts of tulips you see pressed on through dirt...through the weed barrier we put down, through more dirt, and through a pretty thick layer of rocks. I noticed them when I came home from my run. Another reminder...to press on.

Encouraging you today to press on. Whatever it is. Press on. Remember that in the detail of that...you're pressing on for the ultimate prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

And Then These Newlyweds...

Remember yesterday when I told you that 114 years ago, some guy made good on the American dream and built a house?

Well...thirty-five years down the road, the dream changed for him. I'm not sure what changed it. Maybe he had a chance to start over somewhere else, or maybe he was aging and couldn't maintain it anymore...but whatever happened, that house went on the market.

And a couple of crazy newlyweds...in their early 20's...saw something in that box propped up on bricks. The box with exposed lightbulbs hanging down from the ceiling of each room.

I wonder what she thought...the young bride...when she walked into the house for the first time. I wonder if she saw the potential in that box. I'll be honest...I'm not sure I would have. I'm not sure I could have looked past the rough frame to see a future.

But Grandma did.

She and Grandpa...so new at life together...joined hands and put $50.00 (yes...fifty dollars...) down on the table and with that promise...the house became theirs.

They made payments of $12.00 {yes, that says twelve dollars} a month until the house was paid off.

And they set out to make that primitive house into a home.

Grandpa worked hard...and he added a real foundation to the house...and electricity...and plumbing...and a kitchen...and hardwood floors...and a garage...and much more...slowly. They didn't go crazy into debt for it. They did what they could, when they could.

And slowly it became home.

It became the place they welcomed their first child. My mom. {Literally the place they welcomed her. She was born within the four walls.} And then their second child. My aunt.

They made it home in every way...not just the paint color on the walls and the curtains at the windows...but this was also the place where they committed their lives to the Lord, taught two girls, housed family members in need, dreamed dreams, planned vacations, and worked through hard days and crushing blows.

This was home.

And by the time I was born, they'd lived almost fifty years within the walls of that house and built literal and figurative foundations.

I remember that place. The home where I came for Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. Where Grandma cooked creamy mac n cheese in the glass dish that nestled in the wicker basket. Where cousins gathered around on folding chairs to slide up to the extension of the extension of the dining room table. Where Grandpa lined up dining room chairs to keep me from falling off the couch when I spent the night with them. Where Grandma and I sat in recliners to watch Nick at Nite {when it was the truly classic stuff} on Saturday nights after she was a widow and I had a driver's license.

It was home. A far cry from the home they made their own 79 years ago next month.

It was a warm. loving, inviting place with memories. Good memories. Hard memories. Forever memories. The stuff of which life is made.

And I never knew it would be mine to continue the legacy.

Turning Centuries and New Beginnings

I have a story to tell you...might take me a few days. Hoping you'll enjoy it...thanks for indulging me!

It started back at the turn of the century. No, not that century. Not the one where we all sucked in a deep breath and squeezed our eyes tightly shut as the clock slipped from 11:59 to 12:00...and then cautiously peeked one eye open to see if everything carried on as it should. The year when we were relieved to find lights and computers still marching forward and all our Y2K worries unfounded.

The turn of the century before that. The year when William McKinley was president, when Hawaii became an official US territory and when Milton Hershey introduced the milk chocolate Hershey bar.

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As you can see, it shaped up to be a good year...made even better by a little something else that will never make the "big lists."

That was the year that...without the aid of Pinterest or library books or HGTV, some man...whose name I don't even know...took a dream from his mind and made it real.

He purchased a tiny sliver of land and built a house.

The American dream.

His America didn't look like mine. His world didn't yet know about vacuum cleaners, air conditioners, teddy bears, crayons, teabags or the Model T Ford. And chances are good, he didn't own a car at all.

Yet somehow, in what would seem like poverty to me today, he built a house. A box propped up with bricks at each corner and the hot and cold air of Indiana flowing freely beneath its floor.

I wonder what that box looked like when it was first constructed. I wonder about that man...if he had a wife...kids...someone to share his dream with. Someone to look at his sketches on paper and catch the excitement gleam in his eye when he shared his new idea. I wonder how many rooms the house had and how many years went by before he could afford the luxury of a single, exposed light bulb to hang from the center of each room's ceiling.

I wish I knew that man. I wish I knew his name. I wish I could sit down with him and ask him to show me those dreams sketched out on paper and what he envisioned when he captured the American dream. When a tiny piece of land became his and a crude box of a house was propped up on top.

And if I could meet him, I would say....Sir...thank you for dreaming. Thank you for making your dream come true. Thank you for taking a risk in a world where you didn't have much in the way of any kind of resource. 

Thank you for building our house.

The Shafferland Shuffle

* Last Sunday was an actual spring day! We were so excited! We loved our walk to church - and we loved taking a long walk that afternoon, too. With sunglasses. Without coats!! We got to check out the new construction on campus that we've watched take shape over the past many months. We also just enjoyed the day...coffee date in the cafe area at church, sharing communion at the end of the service, restful afternoon...a good, good day.

* Monday was our big book giveaway on Mid-Morning - and it was such fun! Love talking to our friends and giving away books!! After work, guess what!?!?!? WE WENT ON OUR FIRST OUTDOOR RUN OF THE YEAR! We were excited! And I actually HAD a good run! And the news OF the day was...you remember it, right?? My mama got a texting plan. I had to sit down.

* Tuesday night, my parents came over, so my Mom could get a tutorial from Ryan and me on how to use the new phone. She was such a hard worker - almost three hours of learning and practicing! {And she brought us each a Frosty for our help, so we were pretty happy!!} When they went home, I made brownies for Ryan's carry-in at work...and started Holley Gerth's new book You're Going to Be Okay.

* Wednesday at work, we got a surprise, when our former co-worker, Jill, dropped by to see us all! She moved away last summer. Since it was only an hour before the end of the day anyway, we had an impromptu all-office coffee outing...it was such fun! Then I came home for THE date of the night...Ryan and I celebrated our 16 month anniversary! Yes, we still count the months. He grilled steaks and veggies and we enjoyed our quiet night at home. Perfection.

* Thursday was a rainy, rainy day. It came down so hard and fast that fields and roads flooded quickly. {Also the sidewalk right outside the station...always fun when you need to get OUT!!!} It was such a dreary day outside that it just called for some hot chocolate and reading at work!! When we got home, we had a Pinterest-inspired dinner and then just rested. Ryan surprised me with a slow dance to one of our favorite songs at the end of the evening - just like the olden days! {Except this time he didn't have to go home after the dance.}

* Friday morning when I got to work, I found the band Unspoken in the studio with the morning team, so I took a few pictures. They were great guys to meet! After work, Ryan picked up Chinese food for dinner, and then we had a little shopping/Starbucks date. We didn't stay out very late because Saturday was going to be a LONG day and we needed our rest!

* Yesterday was a L.O.N.G. day. Ryan had to work a full day, and I got up when he did to do some work around the house, and then I played photographer for a kiddo's birthday party! {Blognonymous, so I can't tell you all the good details.} I can, however, tell you the party ended at the fire station, which was as fun for this overgrown kid as it was for the birthday kid! I left from there and went straight to a bridal shower for Ryan's cousin, who is getting married next month. It was a fun shower, and Ryan came by on his way home from work.We stayed to help clean up, and by the time we got all our own work done last night, it was 10:00!

The Saturday Six

One.

Last year, Ryan and I got two ferns to put in our outdoor living space. We decided to bring them in at the end of the fall and see if we could keep them alive throughout the winter. It has been touch and go, but I think they might have just squeaked by!!!! This is a major accomplishment in my typical-plant-killing life, so I had to share!

Two.

I started reading Holley Gerth's new book this week. It's called You're Going to Be Okay and it's such a balm to my heart right now. I LOVE Holley and her writing style and this is just good, good comforting reading.

Three.

Ummmmmm anyone else hooked on the new season of 19 Kids and Counting? I made us watch it live, and 100,000 points to Ryan for watching with me...commercials and all. These new relationships for Jill and Jessa...I'm a sucker for a love story. What can I say!?!?

Four.

Source

LOVED this post about Shauna Niequist's bookshelf. I adore huge bookshelves and the mystery of the books housed on them. Hmm. Perhaps soon you'll get to meet the ones at our house. :)

Five.

Source

I adore this dressed up planter. And any excuse to play with a glue gun. :)

Six.

Source

UMMMMM. I have to try this. Pronto. Indoor s'mores? YES PLEASE. And then...if the rain would stop, I could have REAL ones at the fire pit!

Sixteen Months {And Two Days}

Ryan -

New life appeared this week...right here in our own backyard.

The promise of spring after a taxing, eternal winter. A sign of hope after weeks of stubborn cold.

I'm ready for spring. Too many weeks of snow and ice left me feeling trapped. Looking forward to days of sun and warmth and freedom.

I stood in our yard Tuesday night, staring at the collection of tiny buds on the lilac trees and thought back to our own spring sixteen months ago.

A spring filled with hope and a future after long, hard, dark seasons that seemed to never end. Seasons that threatened to trap both our hearts...but after we persevered...spring.

That day...a bud of hope appeared. Tiny and tender and beautiful.

And in that moment of hope, we made promises. With hands tightly clasped, we stared deep into each other's eyes and promised love for always, no matter what. We promised each day would be an adventure no matter what it held.

This week marked 16 months into our spring.

And oh....the adventure we've had. We've turned this house into a home. We've traveled. We've consumed a LOT of coffee. We've had many dates. We've laughed...so much.

But we've faced our share of spring storms in those 16 months too. Hard days when I've cried {a lot} - sometimes over things that matter and sometimes over things that don't. You've been gracious in both circumstances. Days when things didn't make sense and we wondered what road we should take, and you listened to my thoughts and counted them worth hearing. Days when it felt like a winter of the soul was pressing in and discouragement got to us both, but we grabbed hands and pushed forward anyway.

Sixteen months. The best sixteen months.

Thank you for bringing spring to me each day.

I love you,

~ AS ~

Never Thought THIS Day Would Come

My sisters and I got "the email" from my mom the other day. The one we never thought we'd read. "Soooo, now I have a smart phone...they say. What I have learned so far...a smart phone is ONLY as smart as the user."

Earth shattering doesn't even BEGIN to cover this news.

My mother. The one whose phone mantra for lo these many years has been a firm I just need a phone. I don't need it to do my dishes...took possession of a smart phone?

I can't. It's too much.

We asked her what kind of smart phone, and she said {AND I QUOTE} "Does iPhone make sense? It says that on the holder it came in."

I knew right then...this could be interesting.

That evening, Ryan gathered the first documented proof of this newfangled contraption:

Life as we knew it: over.

Watch out, world. Mama's texting.

I was actually ridiculously proud of her; she'd somehow mastered this art with virtually no instruction. I exchanged a few messages with her myself, and a few texts in, I received a good night. I called.

"Mom, you can't just GOOD NIGHT me in the middle of a conversation!"

She said, "I typed something and lost it and didn't want to retype it. So I quit." Ohhhh Mom.

Tuesday night she and Dad came over, armed with a Frosty for Ryan and me...and the four of us settled in at the dining room table. They say all the family bonding happens at the dining room table. And indeed it did. Mama went to smart phone school.

I taught the first class. {Excuse the nose. It's becoming its own appendage. My ponytail picture days are numbered.}

I taught her a few things, and then I turned the reins over to Professor Ryan:

{Do you like how we all got the red and black memo? As though we KNEW it would be photo-shoot worthy!!!}

I have to say this before I tell a story on her. She was at our house for about three hours and in that time, she worked SO HARD. You know what it's like when you're trying to learn something brand new and your brain isn't used to bending that way? It wears a person out. But she trucked on, never asked for a break, and worked so hard to learn. I was so proud of her!!

But.

This story is too good to pass up.

So we were teaching her to answer calls. If you have an iPhone, you know that the screen looks different depending on if you're answering a call from a blank, inactive screen or if you're active on a page. So we were practicing it both ways.

She had the phone on the table in front of her and I called her. She figured out how to answer and then stared at the phone on the table and said, "But didn't I hang up on you? I can't hear anything."

I said, "Well, a key component to this process is to PICK UP THE PHONE AND PUT IT BY YOUR EAR!!!!"

My dad found that pretty funny. {My dad doesn't do cell phones. He just sat patiently while she learned and randomly snickered at the funny parts.}

But a few moments later, when she hit the same problem with answering the phone, I looked at Dad and said, "What should she do at this juncture?" He very slowly held his hand up to his ear.  :) He knew. What do we call that? Learning by osmosis?

We could tell she was reaching her saturation point, so we started to wind down. She put her hands on her head and said, "This is so hard."

Ryan didn't miss a beat and said, "So was first grade, but I made it through." {He was in Mom's first grade class.}

Winning line of the night.

So that's how Mama came to have a smart phone. And a tutoring session.

And she took a picture. AND she figured out how to text it to me.

She sent it three times, actually. Two of them accompanied by the message, "I can't do it." HA!

Proud of you, Mom. Hang in there. You'll get it. And I'll get lots of pictures.

Wednesdays in the Word: H Verse

I was five when my mom taught me to tithe.

She sat down with me in our living room and handed me a set of envelopes and markers. I decorated them {the fun part} and then she handed me a dollar's worth of dimes and taught me to divide them {that would be math...NOT the fun part} into spending...savings...vacation...Christmas...and tithe.

And actually, tithe was first.

My first dime of my first dollar dropped into the bottom of a white envelope with a clumsy attempt at a marker-art Bible on the front of it.

And on Sunday, I dug it out of the envelope, took it to church, and put it in the church-shaped bank in Sunday School class.

I have always loved that about my mom and her training of me. She taught me this verse through her actions that day:

And the thing I love about what she taught me was not just that she taught me what God asks of me, but that she {unknowingly} taught me to LOVE the actual act of giving.

Years later, I learned from another friend that her practice of honoring the Lord with the firstfruits was to actually write that check first every time she paid bills...and not only write one check...but one for each Sunday. So each time she paid bills, she took her tithe and divided it over the number of Sundays in that month. Then each week at church, she was able to worship and honor the Lord by putting a check in the plate.

I heard of a couple that actually prayed each time they paid bills and wrote their tithe check - and thanked the Lord for the ways He provided for them in that month. I loved that, too.

There isn't a specific formula for honoring the Lord...but what a joy to do it. To give cheerfully and make the practice of tithe more an act of worship than a bill to be paid.

Even when times feel lean...He provides. And for that, I'm thankful.

Spicy Sausage Pasta

Last week when Ryan was sick, he wanted chicken noodle soup. Confession: I don't like chicken noodle soup. Not when I'm sick and not when I'm well. But, because I love him so, I drove to the store and bought two cans of chicken noodle soup. I came home, dumped one can in a pan to warm it up on the stove {feeling that it was somehow more homemade if I skipped the microwave}.

He ate it right up and asked for more, so I offered to open the other can. He said to me, That was all that was in the can?

Tiny little sucker, wasn't it? I quipped.

I sent the other can in his lunch the next day and as I told the story to my mom that same day, she said to me, Didn't you add water to it?

I'm sorry. Say what?

What can I say? I'm not a canned soup girl. I'm more of a whip-up-some-comfort-food-from-scratch sort of girl. And this is one of our FAVORITE meals. My sister recommended it to me a few months back and I've made a few alterations to suit our tastes, and also to make it healthier than the original version. It's a bit of a sinus cleanser, but it is GOOD.

And so far I haven't messed it up. You know. Like I did the canned soup.

And, just for the record, Ryan said this is his favorite main dish that I make.


Spicy Sausage Pasta

* 1 tablespoon oil
* 1 pound turkey smoked sausage
* 1 cup chopped onion
* 1 teaspoon garlic powder
* 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
* 1 {10 ounce} can of diced tomatoes with chilies - mild
* 1/2 cup milk
* 8 ounces wheat penne pasta
* 1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
* 1/2 cup chopped green onions



Pour oil in a large, deep skillet and turn burner on medium heat. Slice the turkey smoked sausage, add the chopped onion and cook in the oil until the onion softens. Add garlic powder and cook for another minute or so. Add chicken broth, tomatoes, milk and pasta, cover skillet and allow to cook until the pasta is tender - about 15 minutes. When dish is fully cooked, sprinkle cheese and green onions on top. Serve warm.

A Few Tips:

* We've adapted this to be a little bit healthier: using the turkey smoked sausage, the wheat pasta, and 1% milk - and it tastes GREAT that way. But if you prefer the regular smoked sausage, regular pasta and cream instead of milk, you can certainly switch those out.

* You can use any kind of cheese that you have on hand - and add more, if you like. We believe there's no such thing as too much cheese.

* The tomatoes give this a bit of a kick. If you love kick, you can use a medium or hotter version.

* If you don't have penne, you can use rotini or any other shape you have and like.

* This reheats well - and we like to eat it with garlic bread!