This morning I wandered back to my final post of 2013. I excitedly retold our proposal story and eagerly looked forward to everything that 2014 was going to offer. One year later, I can't help but smile because I am just as happy (if not more) as I was 365 days ago.
Since getting an iPhone, I've installed and come to a love-hate relationship with a particular app, "Timehop." It loves to time travel and remind you of all the inconsequential things you posted, talked about, and put on display on social media however many years ago. When I installed and began checking in daily to see my past dealings I never thought that what I might see would be anything I wouldn't want to be reminded of. Oddly enough, the time of the year I installed it was the same time of the year that revolved around the saddest portion of my past. So I was near immediately reminded of what I was going through 3 years ago. Of course the initial emotion is pained and personal embarrassment that I actually believed or went through with any of it. But since being on this side of the coin, I'm growing to appreciate and be grateful for some of those experiences. And I look into the face of my husband and I am so happy. At some moments I'm so overwhelmed with it that I start crying. It's like my darkest night turned into the brightest, warmest day.
I've said it before, I may never know why I had to go through so much hurt and pain, why God walked me through that time, what lesson I had to learn. But I am growing to appreciate those experiences because they are positively influencing my relationships now. Rick said, "You just needed to make a pit-stop because I wasn't ready to meet you yet."
2014 was a great year. I landed an awesome position in the NICU and joined an amazing "work-family," bought a cute 3-bedroom bungalow that I'm quickly evolving my homemaker skills in, survived the flood of 2014, and married my best friend and love of my life. I'm looking forward to kissing him at midnight tonight and welcoming all the challenges and blessings that God has for us in 2015! Not to mention all the reminders that Timehop will give me throughout the next year :)
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
Perfection
It was perfect. I can honestly sit here and say that my wedding day was perfect.
I could list all the things that went awry like a few "lost" groomsmen who were otherwise busy locking our tv, microwave, and fridge's water dispenser rather than getting dressed with their brother on time with the photographer, the sensation of feeling rushed to get family members posed for portraits, the guests trying to sneak a peak at the bridal party while trying to get said portraits, the crying 2 year old moments before walking down the aisle, the bustle that just wouldn't stay bustled, or the shattered cake topper. But none of that held any weight when the entirety of the day is looked at.
My parents' house soon filled with hair and make-up supplies and just as they were finishing making us girls gorgeous, our photographer and videographers arrived. I think Megan and Hannah had a lot of fun getting dolled up! Mom even got some attention!
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Megan got a hold of my phone and took the liberty of taking some self portraits.
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Rick's wedding gift was something I had worked on for 8 months. Our first anniversary of dating was April 6th. So on that day, I started a journal to him. He's said on multiple occasions how much he enjoys my writing. So I wrote to him everyday since April 6th and chronicled our engagement journey to our wedding day. (after 245 entries I had one page left over in the book!). His gift to me was a white and rose gold heart necklace with a letter he wrote that morning on yellow legal paper. I loved it! Our videographer caught me reading it aloud on camera, of course I balled through it as well as everyone else in the room. I was really surprised at how heartfelt his note was, he even perfectly and meaningfully incorporated our first dance lyrics into his note.
I could list all the things that went awry like a few "lost" groomsmen who were otherwise busy locking our tv, microwave, and fridge's water dispenser rather than getting dressed with their brother on time with the photographer, the sensation of feeling rushed to get family members posed for portraits, the guests trying to sneak a peak at the bridal party while trying to get said portraits, the crying 2 year old moments before walking down the aisle, the bustle that just wouldn't stay bustled, or the shattered cake topper. But none of that held any weight when the entirety of the day is looked at. My parents' house soon filled with hair and make-up supplies and just as they were finishing making us girls gorgeous, our photographer and videographers arrived. I think Megan and Hannah had a lot of fun getting dolled up! Mom even got some attention!Megan got a hold of my phone and took the liberty of taking some self portraits.
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| writing my final note! |
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| Reading the first entry at the hotel room. I loved seeing his ring on! |
Moments before walking down the aisle, Larry was anything but the ball of nerves I thought he would be. In fact, he was probably more chill than I was! Thankfully, he may have gotten all the jitters out at rehearsal because he was nothing like the wreck he was that night. After nearly an hour of hiding out in the bathroom with my mom and bridesmaids, I remember standing in the hallway waiting to be cued in, recognizing Cannon in D playing, and immediately lighting up just knowing we were now moments away. When we made the right turn out of the hallway and was facing the alter, I saw no one. No one but Rick standing there, waiting for me at the other end. Our ceremony was short and to the point and before either of us really realized it I think, we were being pronounced husband and wife! Husband...it is so weird referring to my husband. I was calling Rick my fiance at least a month before the ring even came in so I'm not sure why this new title is so bizarre to get used to!
Our reception was a great time to unwind all that pent up energy that accumulated the hours before the ceremony. I remember feeling relieved that our "performance" was over and we could just enjoy ourselves at the reception. I was a behaved little bride and stuck to the champagne for the toasts and water for my meal. I don't think Rick and I got anywhere near our money's worth out of the bar (but one thing is for sure, we can remember our wedding night!)
Our first dance that we practiced and stressed over for months I think actually turned out really well! I haven't seen it played back yet but I know that we at least didn't miss or repeat any steps and I think the fact that we did the dance without any real difficulty in my big dress with a bustle that came undone in the middle of the routine is impressive enough for me! I can't wait to see it on our full length video when we get it back. I feel a little silly for getting so stressed out over the first dance, especially the day before. Needless to say, we've given up dance lessons as a "hobby."
Our 2-day "mini-moon" was perfection as well. We stayed the two nights at the Townsend hotel, had breakfast in bed both mornings, relaxed, did a little Christmas shopping, ate some outrageously priced steak that redefined "slices like butter," and just enjoyed saying out loud our new names, "husband" and "wife." I still had another week off from work and spent it very slowly packing and moving out of my childhood room. I dreaded that task. It's a small room but I filled every possible inch of that closet and I'm sure there is still stuff in the basement and dark corners of my parent's house. But overall, living in my home has been a pretty seamless transition. I'm glad I had that week off to adjust before going back to my midnight routine.
So, so far married life has been a dream. I'm discovering how much I enjoy keeping house. Especially preparing and planning dinners. No complaints from Rick's end there! Tybee and Rooty are slowly figuring out their new routines too since living in two separate houses. Tybee is slowing becoming less attached and has stopped following me around the house so much. He's taken to his new hobby of neighborhood watch dog.
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It's nice not planning for a wedding anymore. It's also nice to not be buying stuff for the wedding either! In all honesty, I truly feel my wedding was completely everything I hoped and envisioned it to be. From the deep red roses in my bouquet to mom's long veil, the feeling of intimacy and glow of candlelight, all the symbolism and sentimentality I wanted to incorporate, to the man at the end of the aisle. Everyone we hired was fantastic too, I have some seriously glowing reviews to write about every single one of our vendors. I can't think of a single complaint on one of them! It took me two weeks after the wedding to even realize I did not exert one ounce of energy the entire day even thinking about the previous wedding I planned and lost and fought so hard to forget. Rick laughed when I said this realization to him and he jokingly exclaimed, "I win!" I have so much fun to look forward to with him!
Our 2-day "mini-moon" was perfection as well. We stayed the two nights at the Townsend hotel, had breakfast in bed both mornings, relaxed, did a little Christmas shopping, ate some outrageously priced steak that redefined "slices like butter," and just enjoyed saying out loud our new names, "husband" and "wife." I still had another week off from work and spent it very slowly packing and moving out of my childhood room. I dreaded that task. It's a small room but I filled every possible inch of that closet and I'm sure there is still stuff in the basement and dark corners of my parent's house. But overall, living in my home has been a pretty seamless transition. I'm glad I had that week off to adjust before going back to my midnight routine. |
| "helping unpack" |
So, so far married life has been a dream. I'm discovering how much I enjoy keeping house. Especially preparing and planning dinners. No complaints from Rick's end there! Tybee and Rooty are slowly figuring out their new routines too since living in two separate houses. Tybee is slowing becoming less attached and has stopped following me around the house so much. He's taken to his new hobby of neighborhood watch dog.
It's nice not planning for a wedding anymore. It's also nice to not be buying stuff for the wedding either! In all honesty, I truly feel my wedding was completely everything I hoped and envisioned it to be. From the deep red roses in my bouquet to mom's long veil, the feeling of intimacy and glow of candlelight, all the symbolism and sentimentality I wanted to incorporate, to the man at the end of the aisle. Everyone we hired was fantastic too, I have some seriously glowing reviews to write about every single one of our vendors. I can't think of a single complaint on one of them! It took me two weeks after the wedding to even realize I did not exert one ounce of energy the entire day even thinking about the previous wedding I planned and lost and fought so hard to forget. Rick laughed when I said this realization to him and he jokingly exclaimed, "I win!" I have so much fun to look forward to with him!
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| Our first meal! |
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Wedding Day
"I used to think a wedding was a simple affair..."
On the eve of my wedding day, I sat with my parents in our family room with the two dogs and watched Father of the Bride. A classic. I can't deny I got teary eyed in more than one part. Reminiscing at scenes that were similar to my own experiences in planning for the wedding and also anticipating scenes that would take place in just a few short hours. Like how Larry will be anxiously ready to start down the aisle and I will cooly say, "Just a minute dad."
276 days we've counted down to this day. This day I become Mrs. Richard Bethke. I don't know how many times throughout yesterday I kept repeating, "I'm getting married tomorrow...I'm getting married tomorrow..." trying to force the reality to be realized. I still don't realize it. In the quite of this morning before the make-up artist arrives and before the photographer and videographer with all their equipment unloads in my parent's living room, just cuddling with Tybee in my twin size childhood bed I confided in him I was marrying his daddy today trying one last time to make myself believe it is really happening. As the soft glow of the sunrise fills my childhood room...it just feels like a normal quiet Sunday morning.
But I'm sure it won't feel that way for very long...so dear blog readers. I leave you with this my final post as a single woman. Here's to a lifetime of love and happiness with Richard. My God has blessed me so very much. We look forward to filling our home with his love reflected in our relationship with one another because He first loved us.
On the eve of my wedding day, I sat with my parents in our family room with the two dogs and watched Father of the Bride. A classic. I can't deny I got teary eyed in more than one part. Reminiscing at scenes that were similar to my own experiences in planning for the wedding and also anticipating scenes that would take place in just a few short hours. Like how Larry will be anxiously ready to start down the aisle and I will cooly say, "Just a minute dad."
276 days we've counted down to this day. This day I become Mrs. Richard Bethke. I don't know how many times throughout yesterday I kept repeating, "I'm getting married tomorrow...I'm getting married tomorrow..." trying to force the reality to be realized. I still don't realize it. In the quite of this morning before the make-up artist arrives and before the photographer and videographer with all their equipment unloads in my parent's living room, just cuddling with Tybee in my twin size childhood bed I confided in him I was marrying his daddy today trying one last time to make myself believe it is really happening. As the soft glow of the sunrise fills my childhood room...it just feels like a normal quiet Sunday morning.
But I'm sure it won't feel that way for very long...so dear blog readers. I leave you with this my final post as a single woman. Here's to a lifetime of love and happiness with Richard. My God has blessed me so very much. We look forward to filling our home with his love reflected in our relationship with one another because He first loved us.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Can't Sleep
I used to brag that I could sleep all day after a shift. Get up around 5pm and be ready to go back to bed at 10pm to sleep blissfully the whole night. The last few months this has not been the case. I refuse to believe it's because I'm "getting old" or that it even has anything to do with all the wedding plans rolling around in my head. The bridal nightmares have subsided somewhat, thankfully. In fact, tonight's nightmare involved a customer placing a $400 dollar order that left in the middle of ordering because we did not offer a bathroom and he felt the need to punish us over it. I haven't worked at the restaurant in over a month so don't ask me where that one came from...
This morning I awoke at the somber hour of 2:30 to pee. Another irregularity for me. Having not produced any children yet I boast a strong bladder and rarely am I ever disturbed to relieve myself. That satisfying moment of flushing the toilet stimulated my brain enough to detain me from slumber. I tried to will it back to sleep, then I tried to bore it back to sleep by watching the second episode of BBC's 6 hour Pride and Prejudice on Hulu. Neither were successful, obviously. With my brain neurons reeling with excess energy I revert to writing. I have much to reflect upon anyways. With the wedding countdown now in the "teens" my mind is beginning to drift to "life after the wedding." I actually do believe it is out there...a life after December 7th. I'm excited for the morning of December 8th but I must admit there is a touch of fear in the excitement. Because as I've expressed in my last post, I understand everything in my little world will change. My address, my schedule, my roommates, my name. I fear that process (name-changing) to a whole 'nother level...
With my mind wandered to life after the wedding, it wandered to Christmas morning. I imagined what it will be like to wake up with my husband and pup in our bedroom, scurry downstairs in my pajamas, and begin to fill our little home with the sounds of Pandora's Christmas station, the smells of fresh brewed coffee, and aroma of something nutella and cinnonmon-y-ly festive that I discovered on Pinterest during my recent 5-night stretch at work. In my childhood, dad was always the first one up on Christmas morning to start a fire, turn all the Christmas lights on, and quietly watch tv as he waited for his children to wake up and come downstairs. As I expected, my father has already asked if we will spend the night on Christmas Eve so we will be there on Christmas morning like Ron and Jenny did the first year they were married (their wedding was just a few weeks before Christmas like us). I'm sure I broke his heart but met his expectations when I declined his invitation. I assured him that Rick and I will be the first to arrive at their house in the afternoon. My absence that morning will be a big adjustment for Larry!
I've always said I was a home-body and I so look forward to starting our own holiday traditions. I was elated to hear Rick asked if we could leave our tree up as long as possible this year because he cannot stand when trees come down the day after Christmas. A man after my own heart! It really is my favorite time of the year. I love decorating my first home with all my Christmas decor and I don't even mind the snow arriving this week. Although I am grateful we don't have as much as Buffalo!
So now that I've exhausted my thoughts into a blog post, I still don't feel any inclination of returning to sleep. I will pay for this come the afternoon unfortunately when I collapse on the couch...But I guess for now, I will return to Hulu and watch the third episode of Pride and Prejudice.
P.S. in case you're wondering: 16 days!
This morning I awoke at the somber hour of 2:30 to pee. Another irregularity for me. Having not produced any children yet I boast a strong bladder and rarely am I ever disturbed to relieve myself. That satisfying moment of flushing the toilet stimulated my brain enough to detain me from slumber. I tried to will it back to sleep, then I tried to bore it back to sleep by watching the second episode of BBC's 6 hour Pride and Prejudice on Hulu. Neither were successful, obviously. With my brain neurons reeling with excess energy I revert to writing. I have much to reflect upon anyways. With the wedding countdown now in the "teens" my mind is beginning to drift to "life after the wedding." I actually do believe it is out there...a life after December 7th. I'm excited for the morning of December 8th but I must admit there is a touch of fear in the excitement. Because as I've expressed in my last post, I understand everything in my little world will change. My address, my schedule, my roommates, my name. I fear that process (name-changing) to a whole 'nother level...
With my mind wandered to life after the wedding, it wandered to Christmas morning. I imagined what it will be like to wake up with my husband and pup in our bedroom, scurry downstairs in my pajamas, and begin to fill our little home with the sounds of Pandora's Christmas station, the smells of fresh brewed coffee, and aroma of something nutella and cinnonmon-y-ly festive that I discovered on Pinterest during my recent 5-night stretch at work. In my childhood, dad was always the first one up on Christmas morning to start a fire, turn all the Christmas lights on, and quietly watch tv as he waited for his children to wake up and come downstairs. As I expected, my father has already asked if we will spend the night on Christmas Eve so we will be there on Christmas morning like Ron and Jenny did the first year they were married (their wedding was just a few weeks before Christmas like us). I'm sure I broke his heart but met his expectations when I declined his invitation. I assured him that Rick and I will be the first to arrive at their house in the afternoon. My absence that morning will be a big adjustment for Larry!
I've always said I was a home-body and I so look forward to starting our own holiday traditions. I was elated to hear Rick asked if we could leave our tree up as long as possible this year because he cannot stand when trees come down the day after Christmas. A man after my own heart! It really is my favorite time of the year. I love decorating my first home with all my Christmas decor and I don't even mind the snow arriving this week. Although I am grateful we don't have as much as Buffalo!
So now that I've exhausted my thoughts into a blog post, I still don't feel any inclination of returning to sleep. I will pay for this come the afternoon unfortunately when I collapse on the couch...But I guess for now, I will return to Hulu and watch the third episode of Pride and Prejudice.
P.S. in case you're wondering: 16 days!
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Next Month!
November first! The wedding is next month! Thanks to my sleep schedule I woke up around 6am this morning with the thought of this being my last month of waking up in my childhood bedroom, hearing my dad's footsteps into the office to start payroll, and curling up in my parents' king size bed to gossip with mom before the day begins.
I've been down this road reminiscing "my last time in my parents' house" before just prior to moving down South. In fact it was two years ago today that my dad and uncle departed to come down and move me back to Michigan. However, this "last month" feels a little different and I think because the distance of the move is only a mere 10 minutes and two miles vs. 12 hours and 900 miles. Annnnnd there is a new title coming with this move: WIFE. That one four letter word holds so much weight and responsibility behind it. For months Rick and I have looked forward to the lifestyle of a married couple: creating our schedule for dinners, house chores, comings and goings, and I think we're both especially looking forward to not having to say "goodnight" and "goodbye" in the same sentence. But perhaps what I am most looking forward to is upgrading from sharing my twin size bed with Tybee to sharing a queen size bed with him ;). Still, I know December will hold a massive adjustment period. Actually saying the phrase, "The wedding is next month," forces the gravity of this adjustment to be considered.
Recently, we've past the point I was probably the most afraid of in the wedding process and honestly, I didn't even notice. When Rick proposed and we were in the early stages of wedding planning, I unexpectedly struggled and wrestled with emotions wrapped up in my first engagement. I didn't want to re-plan the same wedding that was attached to a different groom but so many of those elements had me woven all through them. That wedding was a vision I never saw into fruition. For example: my dress. It was an undeniable issue harboring bad mojo. I thought it was my dress; completely unattached to that event. Boy, was I wrong! So it really was no surprise to anyone when I decided to purchase a new one. A decision I never regretted (I cannot wait to wear the dress!). So when I was jilted to the fact that I had unresolved emotion to planning a new wedding, I became aware to the potential that I might panic at mailing invitations or surpassing the 40 day mark. Both were centered on when my first engagement collapsed. But never once did I ever question Richard. Even when we were dating I have had no doubt of his love and devotion for me. I used to get angry over the fact that I went through the process of planning a wedding once before and try as I might not to compare the two, it felt inevitable. When it comes to my first relationship I felt I was divorced before I was even married. I know all of it was no surprise to God and my only response should be gratitude for walking me through and pulling me out of it. Because of that rocky relationship, I recognize and treasure Richard so much more. I'm not easy to love at times but he has never wavered. Most of the time he's smiling when I'm walking through a dark patch. And he has held me and let me cry when the wrecking ball was released. He truly is the man of my dreams (cue the cheezeballs).
I didn't even notice until weeks after the invitations were out that we had passed that point I was most afraid of. I'm pretty certain I was blanketed in an all-surpassing peace.
So we're down to 37 days...5 weeks! All the details are wrapped up in this final month and I'm to a point where I don't go anywhere or do anything without my wedding planner. Funny, when I moved back home two years ago I made a personal goal to stabilize myself at my parents' house within two years and move out again on my own. God had his own way of holding me to that!
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Bridal Shower Bliss
Saturday we had a busy start to our morning preparing for the party. I was up an extra two hours early and transformed myself into a one-woman hair salon fixing up not only my own do but my jr. bridesmaid and flower girl's as well. And they were oh-so-adorable. (But I'm so hiring someone to do our hair for the wedding!)
It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect as ladies filled the gardens of Rick's childhood home. My aunt gave a meal blessing that brought more than just myself to tears. And I was overwhelmed by the amount of love and support Rick and I received this day. That sounds silly when I read it back but I really was taken aback by it. At times I hate the fact that I've been down this road before because it's very difficult not to compare and to feel un-deserving of all the support. I know my loved ones are happy for us and support this union a hundred times more. Even walking through pre-marital counseling with Rick I've said more than once how more than ever I know now that my previous engagement would never have made it down the aisle. Rick keeps reminding me that I'm stuck with him. I'm glad I am.
Then Rick had some difficulty tying his tie so the 8 year old helped him out
Ryan eventually came to the rescue and did it for him)
My future sister-in-law was in charge of games. The first was a "newly-wed" trivia questionnaire that I failed epically. I got only 10 out of 20 correct. Jo lovingly exclaimed, "Well, that's it then, they can't get married now!" It was however determined that I do in fact wear the pants in the relationship. After the games, we moved into the gifts. I can't wait to use my kitchen things now and I nearly forgot all about the beautiful milk glass pieces I picked out a few months ago at an antique shop while I was out with Rick's mom and aunts. They go perfectly with our backsplash!
Of course we got our ring pillow also, hand-stitched by mom. A family tradition
It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect as ladies filled the gardens of Rick's childhood home. My aunt gave a meal blessing that brought more than just myself to tears. And I was overwhelmed by the amount of love and support Rick and I received this day. That sounds silly when I read it back but I really was taken aback by it. At times I hate the fact that I've been down this road before because it's very difficult not to compare and to feel un-deserving of all the support. I know my loved ones are happy for us and support this union a hundred times more. Even walking through pre-marital counseling with Rick I've said more than once how more than ever I know now that my previous engagement would never have made it down the aisle. Rick keeps reminding me that I'm stuck with him. I'm glad I am.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Homeowner's Inauguration
While it was a joke, I did mentioned it that afternoon, "Perhaps we should consider building the ark?"
We should have.
I thought mom was a little crazy for wanting to go to Kohl's in all that rain when she pulled the car out of the driveway to let me out for work. I followed behind her down our residential shortcut to 13 mile, pausing periodically to let the oncoming car go through the flooded streets first. It was still raining big fat drops at soaking speeds. I did my two quick right hand turns into Beaumont's employee entrance and found more puddles waiting for me. I had no idea how bad it really was.
While I was at work on my first night off orientation and blissfully unaware of the magnitude that was the second world flood, my fiance unexpectedly went sailing on Ocean Woodward and swimming in Lake Princeton. His Mustang drowned at the corner of our street and forced him and Tybee to abandon the car and walk the block home. Well really, Rick waded and Tybee swam. He had onlookers on Woodward calling out to him, "Hey! Can your dog swim?" We discovered that our new house sits at the lowest point of our street and he was welcomed home to our new indoor pool in our basement. Our brand new washer and dryer that we were so excited about getting--the washer was tipped on it's side, floating, water lines still attached and the water level was halfway up the door of the dryer. Neither had even seen a load of laundry yet.
Overwhelmed, Rick stood at our front porch wondering how he was going to get back to my parents' house with his car stalled out at the end of our street and a lake in our front yard. Rick said, "It was like out of the darkness, I saw Ryan at the end of our street wading through the water with a big beer can in each hand held up over the water surface!" It was a magical sight, I'm sure!
They took pictures and videos of the disaster in our basement. Facebook was "flooded" (ha, get it?) with similar pictures documenting the "Epic Flood of 2014". There were nurses that were 4 and 5 hours late arriving for work and nurses that were stranded at the hospital unable to get to their cars. When I got home, I learned that my dad and Rick pushed the mustang from Woodward to our driveway, Jenny was ripping up carpet, my mom was stranded at Kohl's, and my personal favorite: my little niece and nephew rode home in a kayak from I-75. My dog was so traumatized that he spent half of the day vomiting in mom's kitchen from all the stress. Mind you, this is the dog that doesn't like to walk on wet grass and he was forced to go swimming in the streets.
It's a mess. Rick and I have been homeowners for barely 3 weeks and now we get to learn very quickly where our homeowners insurance's rubber actually meets the road. I can't help but think if our washer and dryer were still on back-order, we wouldn't have gotten it delivered last week. If we didn't go to the storage locker and finish emptying it out on Sunday, my high school yearbooks and memory book from my grandmother would still be intact. And my collectibles from American Girl wouldn't be ruined. While it's a big mess, it certainly could be much worse. I think about those with finished basements that are tearing up carpeting, throwing out furniture and replacing TV's and children's toys. I am thankful that what we lost seems minimum in comparison and all we may be facing is a concrete scrub down and painting. Our furnace and hot water heater still seem to be working even (we're keeping our fingers crossed!). We thank God for our families that rushed in to help with the aftermath. My dad running from one house to the next, my aunt and uncle, and even Rick's parents somehow found a way from Howell to help him make sense of our basement while I slept for work tonight. Thank you.
We should have.
I thought mom was a little crazy for wanting to go to Kohl's in all that rain when she pulled the car out of the driveway to let me out for work. I followed behind her down our residential shortcut to 13 mile, pausing periodically to let the oncoming car go through the flooded streets first. It was still raining big fat drops at soaking speeds. I did my two quick right hand turns into Beaumont's employee entrance and found more puddles waiting for me. I had no idea how bad it really was.
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| This is the vantage point from the basement ceiling! |
Overwhelmed, Rick stood at our front porch wondering how he was going to get back to my parents' house with his car stalled out at the end of our street and a lake in our front yard. Rick said, "It was like out of the darkness, I saw Ryan at the end of our street wading through the water with a big beer can in each hand held up over the water surface!" It was a magical sight, I'm sure!
They took pictures and videos of the disaster in our basement. Facebook was "flooded" (ha, get it?) with similar pictures documenting the "Epic Flood of 2014". There were nurses that were 4 and 5 hours late arriving for work and nurses that were stranded at the hospital unable to get to their cars. When I got home, I learned that my dad and Rick pushed the mustang from Woodward to our driveway, Jenny was ripping up carpet, my mom was stranded at Kohl's, and my personal favorite: my little niece and nephew rode home in a kayak from I-75. My dog was so traumatized that he spent half of the day vomiting in mom's kitchen from all the stress. Mind you, this is the dog that doesn't like to walk on wet grass and he was forced to go swimming in the streets.
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| my mom laid out all my pictures to dry |
It's a mess. Rick and I have been homeowners for barely 3 weeks and now we get to learn very quickly where our homeowners insurance's rubber actually meets the road. I can't help but think if our washer and dryer were still on back-order, we wouldn't have gotten it delivered last week. If we didn't go to the storage locker and finish emptying it out on Sunday, my high school yearbooks and memory book from my grandmother would still be intact. And my collectibles from American Girl wouldn't be ruined. While it's a big mess, it certainly could be much worse. I think about those with finished basements that are tearing up carpeting, throwing out furniture and replacing TV's and children's toys. I am thankful that what we lost seems minimum in comparison and all we may be facing is a concrete scrub down and painting. Our furnace and hot water heater still seem to be working even (we're keeping our fingers crossed!). We thank God for our families that rushed in to help with the aftermath. My dad running from one house to the next, my aunt and uncle, and even Rick's parents somehow found a way from Howell to help him make sense of our basement while I slept for work tonight. Thank you.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Our First Home
So obvious a lot has happened in the last three months. THREE months! I sure let myself go! Like I said, we've been busy!
So we walked away from that home I was so happy to write about in my last post. To make a long story short, the inspection didn't go as well as we hoped. Our inspector kept reassuring us, "Remember, anything can be fix." But for Rick and I, that advice was attached to dollar signs. Dollar signs we didn't have when you factored in the bottom line of the house. Between the 13 year old roof, the 34 year old furnace, non-updated kitchen, one cracked window, no air vents, no A/C unit, having to snake the pipes, a jimmy-rigged toilet seat, PLUS an extremely concerning 2+ inch foundation wall bowing that would require 11 support beams for resale value, Rick and I ultimately felt it was best to walk away. Yes, they say location is everything. But for us newbie homebuyers, we just felt all we were getting for our top dollar was a big bag of issues.
So that was a crappy week, after months of trying to win in real estate, we decided to walked away from our first accepted offer. To add to it, I had a crappy week at my new job. So Sunday morning when we walked into our Young Families Sunday School class and was asked how our week went, it was already pretty evident on our faces. A friend of ours from the class happens to be a real estate agent and as we were telling him this story, he pulled out his phone to show us a house he just relisted the night before after the original buyer backed out. Before he could even pull the listing up, I knew what house he was talking about. Rick and I had seen it on an MLS website that night before and we quickly gave up on it because it was at the very top of our budget. Tom encouraged us to at least go and see it that afternoon because he knew it was going to generate a lot of interest and knowing the sellers, he was sure they would much rather work with a couple like us from the church then the finicky buyer they just dealt with. Speak of the devil, just an hour later Tom got a message from that buyer saying she wanted back in. So we got our real estate agent to meet us that afternoon and like Tom's wife said we would, we loved the house. We put a bid in but I wasn't holding my breath. I was convinced we weren't going to win this house. That's what 5 out-bidded offers will do to your confidence.
Funny thing happened the next day. I received a text from our real estate agent that the buyers were accepting our offer. I couldn't believe it. I immediatly started crying. Then I called Rick who was so lovingly confused by my tears, I had to clarify they were tears of happiness. I spent the whole day crying. The day before I wasn't sure if this was the house for us but this day I was sure. Like Tom said, we weren't the highest offer but the sellers wanted to work from within the church. In the end, our connections won us our house!
Since our first accepted offer fizzled so quickly I was very guarded about this deal. In fact, I was purposefully silent about it on social media for fear it would happen all over again. So only on closing day was I confident enough that this was happening to post it on Facebook just before we walked into the real estate office. After eight long weeks of countless signed documents, several emails, and one grueling mortgage loan application later we sat down and signed about 30 different documents full of jargon and language we will never understand but all basically said we were in debt for the rest of our lives. Then our realtor Phil slid two copies of a key across the table to Rick and I. THAT was a surreal moment. We wasted no time moving in. Mom and I went to the storage locker and brought out all my "kitchen stuff" and I spent our first full day as homeowners learning how to use my dishwasher, organizing my cupboards, and cleaning my hardwood floors. The following week, we got all the "big stuff" moved in. I had furniture in every nook and cranny of mom and dad's house not to mention the storage locker. Remember the U-Hal we had jam-packed for my move back up north? I still have some furniture at Rusty and Tracy's house too! Giddy I think was the best way to describe what I was feeling as I carefully followed behind Ron's pick-up making sure my couch and mattress didn't fall out of his truck bed. Mom called this, "a happy move."
I have loved every moment of "homemaking" from washing all of the storage locker smell out of my bed linen to picking out drapes and hanging curtain rods and grocery shopping and even picking out paint colors! It was like Christmas day unpacking my boxes and rediscovering all of my things. I think the best part is knowing that all this "stuff" is going into a home I'm building with Rick. When we got done with the closing, Rick said, "This is more of a commitment then our wedding, I'm legally and finically bonded to you!" And neither one of us batted an eye before signing on the dotted line of our first home.
So we walked away from that home I was so happy to write about in my last post. To make a long story short, the inspection didn't go as well as we hoped. Our inspector kept reassuring us, "Remember, anything can be fix." But for Rick and I, that advice was attached to dollar signs. Dollar signs we didn't have when you factored in the bottom line of the house. Between the 13 year old roof, the 34 year old furnace, non-updated kitchen, one cracked window, no air vents, no A/C unit, having to snake the pipes, a jimmy-rigged toilet seat, PLUS an extremely concerning 2+ inch foundation wall bowing that would require 11 support beams for resale value, Rick and I ultimately felt it was best to walk away. Yes, they say location is everything. But for us newbie homebuyers, we just felt all we were getting for our top dollar was a big bag of issues.
So that was a crappy week, after months of trying to win in real estate, we decided to walked away from our first accepted offer. To add to it, I had a crappy week at my new job. So Sunday morning when we walked into our Young Families Sunday School class and was asked how our week went, it was already pretty evident on our faces. A friend of ours from the class happens to be a real estate agent and as we were telling him this story, he pulled out his phone to show us a house he just relisted the night before after the original buyer backed out. Before he could even pull the listing up, I knew what house he was talking about. Rick and I had seen it on an MLS website that night before and we quickly gave up on it because it was at the very top of our budget. Tom encouraged us to at least go and see it that afternoon because he knew it was going to generate a lot of interest and knowing the sellers, he was sure they would much rather work with a couple like us from the church then the finicky buyer they just dealt with. Speak of the devil, just an hour later Tom got a message from that buyer saying she wanted back in. So we got our real estate agent to meet us that afternoon and like Tom's wife said we would, we loved the house. We put a bid in but I wasn't holding my breath. I was convinced we weren't going to win this house. That's what 5 out-bidded offers will do to your confidence.
Funny thing happened the next day. I received a text from our real estate agent that the buyers were accepting our offer. I couldn't believe it. I immediatly started crying. Then I called Rick who was so lovingly confused by my tears, I had to clarify they were tears of happiness. I spent the whole day crying. The day before I wasn't sure if this was the house for us but this day I was sure. Like Tom said, we weren't the highest offer but the sellers wanted to work from within the church. In the end, our connections won us our house!
Since our first accepted offer fizzled so quickly I was very guarded about this deal. In fact, I was purposefully silent about it on social media for fear it would happen all over again. So only on closing day was I confident enough that this was happening to post it on Facebook just before we walked into the real estate office. After eight long weeks of countless signed documents, several emails, and one grueling mortgage loan application later we sat down and signed about 30 different documents full of jargon and language we will never understand but all basically said we were in debt for the rest of our lives. Then our realtor Phil slid two copies of a key across the table to Rick and I. THAT was a surreal moment. We wasted no time moving in. Mom and I went to the storage locker and brought out all my "kitchen stuff" and I spent our first full day as homeowners learning how to use my dishwasher, organizing my cupboards, and cleaning my hardwood floors. The following week, we got all the "big stuff" moved in. I had furniture in every nook and cranny of mom and dad's house not to mention the storage locker. Remember the U-Hal we had jam-packed for my move back up north? I still have some furniture at Rusty and Tracy's house too! Giddy I think was the best way to describe what I was feeling as I carefully followed behind Ron's pick-up making sure my couch and mattress didn't fall out of his truck bed. Mom called this, "a happy move."
I have loved every moment of "homemaking" from washing all of the storage locker smell out of my bed linen to picking out drapes and hanging curtain rods and grocery shopping and even picking out paint colors! It was like Christmas day unpacking my boxes and rediscovering all of my things. I think the best part is knowing that all this "stuff" is going into a home I'm building with Rick. When we got done with the closing, Rick said, "This is more of a commitment then our wedding, I'm legally and finically bonded to you!" And neither one of us batted an eye before signing on the dotted line of our first home.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Real Estate DONE!
On this day a year ago, my biggest dilemma was that I blurted out "I love you" to Richard as we stood in line for the Wicked Twister at Cedar Point after an exhausting day of walking to a bunch of broken down rides with 30,000 jr. high band kids and all we wanted were nachos from TGI Friday's (which they didn't have). I said I wanted nachos, he said he loved nachos, so I said I loved him...I guess it made sense to my brain.
This year, my dilemmas feel a bit heavier. Tomorrow I start my new position as a neonatal intensive care nurse. If that's not intimidating I'm not sure what is. I never saw myself as any kind of intensive care nurse. I liked giving away my train wrecks, not receiving them. And I can't help but remember how difficult my last transition was and worrying just a little bit if history might repeat itself. I'm excited for this new venture but also a little guarded. I pray I fit in, I pray I am able to make friends quickly, I pray I can catch on to what I need to know. That I am cut-out for this very sensitive area of nursing.
But the impending start of this new position is not my only dilemma today. Yesterday Rick and I did a marathon of house-seeing. The most we've ever had an opportunity to see at once. Eight homes in three hours. I got frustrated last week when I would inquire into seven or eight homes and before we could arrange viewings, they would accept offers and be off the market. A potential list of houses would dwindle down to two or three. So we went crazy beefing up our list and included homes that were on the top of our budget and outside our desired location just so that we could actually see homes. Well, we got all eight in under three hours. At the end of the day and considering our luck with offers, we decided to throw a bid in on this one at the top of our budget.
When we got out of the car to see this house, I nudged Rick's arm and pointed to the tree in the front yard: white birch, kind of our thing. Rick sighed and said we were doomed, he was already considering the price tag. The house was just as cute inside as it was outside and I was pleasantly surprised by the upstairs despite my distain for bungalows. The backyard was deep and fenced, perfect for Tybee's high energy levels. In the driveway Rick hawed over the price and the high probability that someone can easily outbid us knowing we were essentially out of wiggle room. A scenario we were becoming quite used to. My mom was quick to retort, "God works miracles, Richard!"
After crunching numbers with our lender, we signed paperwork yesterday evening. Last night I prayed, "Lord, if this house is going to sink us financially, if it will destroy our relationship, please protect us. Don't let this offer go through. If this house will bless us, if by the struggle to make the payments strengthens our faith and trust in your promise to provide, if it will glorify you by the family we will raise and the love we will share in it, if you will be honored and presented to the individuals we invite into it, then I pray we hear quickly and your will be done. That is all I want for our home. Please help us endure this challenge."
In 6 months we've viewed countless ads online, walked through 26 homes, submitted 5 offers. This afternoon we received the news that our fifth offer was accepted and it appears we have bought a home...and in our desired location! To be exact, it's 0.2 miles from my parents' and big brother's house. Only a 4 minute walk to our new home. I'm so hesitant to actually say that: our home. We still have appraisals and inspections to go through but this is the closest we have ever been.
This feels like the biggest thing I've ever done. Bigger than my move across country. It solidifies our impending marriage. This is the place our story will begin. This little three bedroom, one bath starter will become our ministry. My deepest desire is to fill it with the love we share for each other and for God and that it may be evident to anyone who steps inside. That they may be surrounded by the love God has for us. So in faith, we're stepping into our first home.
"So we keep on praying for you, asking our God to enable you to live a life worthy of his call. May he give you the power to accomplish all the good things your faith prompts you to do." 2 Thessalonias 1:11
One thing I've learned for sure in this process: I do not belong in real estate! Thank God this is over!
This year, my dilemmas feel a bit heavier. Tomorrow I start my new position as a neonatal intensive care nurse. If that's not intimidating I'm not sure what is. I never saw myself as any kind of intensive care nurse. I liked giving away my train wrecks, not receiving them. And I can't help but remember how difficult my last transition was and worrying just a little bit if history might repeat itself. I'm excited for this new venture but also a little guarded. I pray I fit in, I pray I am able to make friends quickly, I pray I can catch on to what I need to know. That I am cut-out for this very sensitive area of nursing.
But the impending start of this new position is not my only dilemma today. Yesterday Rick and I did a marathon of house-seeing. The most we've ever had an opportunity to see at once. Eight homes in three hours. I got frustrated last week when I would inquire into seven or eight homes and before we could arrange viewings, they would accept offers and be off the market. A potential list of houses would dwindle down to two or three. So we went crazy beefing up our list and included homes that were on the top of our budget and outside our desired location just so that we could actually see homes. Well, we got all eight in under three hours. At the end of the day and considering our luck with offers, we decided to throw a bid in on this one at the top of our budget.
When we got out of the car to see this house, I nudged Rick's arm and pointed to the tree in the front yard: white birch, kind of our thing. Rick sighed and said we were doomed, he was already considering the price tag. The house was just as cute inside as it was outside and I was pleasantly surprised by the upstairs despite my distain for bungalows. The backyard was deep and fenced, perfect for Tybee's high energy levels. In the driveway Rick hawed over the price and the high probability that someone can easily outbid us knowing we were essentially out of wiggle room. A scenario we were becoming quite used to. My mom was quick to retort, "God works miracles, Richard!"
After crunching numbers with our lender, we signed paperwork yesterday evening. Last night I prayed, "Lord, if this house is going to sink us financially, if it will destroy our relationship, please protect us. Don't let this offer go through. If this house will bless us, if by the struggle to make the payments strengthens our faith and trust in your promise to provide, if it will glorify you by the family we will raise and the love we will share in it, if you will be honored and presented to the individuals we invite into it, then I pray we hear quickly and your will be done. That is all I want for our home. Please help us endure this challenge."
In 6 months we've viewed countless ads online, walked through 26 homes, submitted 5 offers. This afternoon we received the news that our fifth offer was accepted and it appears we have bought a home...and in our desired location! To be exact, it's 0.2 miles from my parents' and big brother's house. Only a 4 minute walk to our new home. I'm so hesitant to actually say that: our home. We still have appraisals and inspections to go through but this is the closest we have ever been.
This feels like the biggest thing I've ever done. Bigger than my move across country. It solidifies our impending marriage. This is the place our story will begin. This little three bedroom, one bath starter will become our ministry. My deepest desire is to fill it with the love we share for each other and for God and that it may be evident to anyone who steps inside. That they may be surrounded by the love God has for us. So in faith, we're stepping into our first home.
"So we keep on praying for you, asking our God to enable you to live a life worthy of his call. May he give you the power to accomplish all the good things your faith prompts you to do." 2 Thessalonias 1:11
One thing I've learned for sure in this process: I do not belong in real estate! Thank God this is over!
Friday, April 25, 2014
Paint the Badge PINK!
So if you've known me for any length of time, you know I'm uncannily good with remembering dates. Like last week Rick and I rented a movie for a "night in" and as we got in the car I happened to glance at the date on the dashboard and blurted out, "Today is my ex-fiance's mother's birthday." He laughed and asked, "How do you do that?!" It's not like I sent her a card or anything, I just can't help remembering these useless things!
So of course I remember that today is my three year anniversary of starting my very first grown-up RN job on 5 West at South Georgia Medical Center. It was the day after Easter, I wore a kelly green top oddly matching with the new ID tag, and the nurse that sat next to me couldn't understand why I would move from Metro Detroit to small-town Valdosta. I so fondly remember that job. All the things I learned, the leaps and bounds I made in my professional practice that pivotal first year, and I still often think of my colleagues and even some of my frequent-flyer patients.
MPCU I may remember a little less fondly. The rough transition, not only to the new job but also to my new way of life back in my parent's home. What I will remember is how this job has challenged me, forced me to learn new things, made me more assertive, and to a degree, tore down and rebuilt my confidence as an RN. This profession is one of constant learning and change.
I've spent equally 18 months on 5 West and on 4 Center MPCU. Today I reflect on all the changes and growth I've endured in these three years. Both in my professional and my personal life. Some very painful, some obviously very exciting. I am so grateful for where God has walked me and probably more frequently carried me through. I don't think I need to go into great details on any of that. :)
On this anniversary I'm bursting with anticipation over one particular bit of news: this week I accepted a transfer offer to the neonatal intensive care unit at Beaumont. I have hoped for this kind of opportunity since second semester nursing school when I took to my pediatric rotation "like a duck to water." These opportunities do not come around everyday and I cannot describe how excited I am.
In 18 months I had interviewed twice at DMC Children's and once at St. John's. This was my first potential transfer interview within Beaumont. I knew that from MPCU I wanted to go to pediatrics in some form or another. When I got the call for this interview I was hesitant to be honest. I wasn't sure if I was going to be cut out for premature sick babies. If I would be smart enough, strong enough, or stable enough. I breezed through the questions before she offered a tour of the unit. When I walked through the doors to the first set of rooms and saw the isolate with the smallest patient I had ever seen, the monitors, the ventilators, the layout, I fell in love. I knew I wanted to work here.
But I had to wait. It felt like God had dangled a carrot in front of me. I finally allowed myself to get "comfortable" with my situation on MPCU. Like, "Fine God, if you're going to stick me here for a while, I may as well put my name on the list for days and settle my jets about leaving." No sooner than the following week I received the email from the NICU manager saying she got the green light to fill positions. Two days later I got the phone call. This is my desire, what I believe I want to dedicate a significant amount of my career to. And by the grace of God, I have the opportunity and the potential to fulfill it.
Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart's desire. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. Psalms 37:4-5
So of course I remember that today is my three year anniversary of starting my very first grown-up RN job on 5 West at South Georgia Medical Center. It was the day after Easter, I wore a kelly green top oddly matching with the new ID tag, and the nurse that sat next to me couldn't understand why I would move from Metro Detroit to small-town Valdosta. I so fondly remember that job. All the things I learned, the leaps and bounds I made in my professional practice that pivotal first year, and I still often think of my colleagues and even some of my frequent-flyer patients.
MPCU I may remember a little less fondly. The rough transition, not only to the new job but also to my new way of life back in my parent's home. What I will remember is how this job has challenged me, forced me to learn new things, made me more assertive, and to a degree, tore down and rebuilt my confidence as an RN. This profession is one of constant learning and change.
I've spent equally 18 months on 5 West and on 4 Center MPCU. Today I reflect on all the changes and growth I've endured in these three years. Both in my professional and my personal life. Some very painful, some obviously very exciting. I am so grateful for where God has walked me and probably more frequently carried me through. I don't think I need to go into great details on any of that. :)
On this anniversary I'm bursting with anticipation over one particular bit of news: this week I accepted a transfer offer to the neonatal intensive care unit at Beaumont. I have hoped for this kind of opportunity since second semester nursing school when I took to my pediatric rotation "like a duck to water." These opportunities do not come around everyday and I cannot describe how excited I am.
In 18 months I had interviewed twice at DMC Children's and once at St. John's. This was my first potential transfer interview within Beaumont. I knew that from MPCU I wanted to go to pediatrics in some form or another. When I got the call for this interview I was hesitant to be honest. I wasn't sure if I was going to be cut out for premature sick babies. If I would be smart enough, strong enough, or stable enough. I breezed through the questions before she offered a tour of the unit. When I walked through the doors to the first set of rooms and saw the isolate with the smallest patient I had ever seen, the monitors, the ventilators, the layout, I fell in love. I knew I wanted to work here.
But I had to wait. It felt like God had dangled a carrot in front of me. I finally allowed myself to get "comfortable" with my situation on MPCU. Like, "Fine God, if you're going to stick me here for a while, I may as well put my name on the list for days and settle my jets about leaving." No sooner than the following week I received the email from the NICU manager saying she got the green light to fill positions. Two days later I got the phone call. This is my desire, what I believe I want to dedicate a significant amount of my career to. And by the grace of God, I have the opportunity and the potential to fulfill it.
Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart's desire. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. Psalms 37:4-5
Thursday, March 6, 2014
The Countdown Begins!
When Rick popped the question, we spent the first few weeks just enjoying the excitement of being engaged and sharing the news with our friends and family. Then Rick started his new job shortly after the holidays were over. After settling into somewhat of a routine, I began to focus my energy on planning our wedding. If you've known me for any length of time, you know how good I can be with wedding stuff. You know I have multiple Pinterest boards dedicated to wedding ideas, I'm the go-to girl with etiquette questions, and I have a keen creative eye for all details wedding-related. Even so, I wasn't prepared for the struggle I would have in getting started with my own wedding!
In late January Mom, Tracy, and I attended a bridal show. Mom and I went to one a few years ago but I don't remember all the uncomfortable focused attention and the bombardment of questions like, "do you have your venue picked out, do you have your dress, what about a photographer, are you having a DJ, where will you honeymoon, what colors are you using, do you want to host a pure romance party??" While I was in the middle of it, I couldn't figure out why I was all of a sudden so uncomfortable with all the questions inquiring into my upcoming event but as I've processed it I think there may have been some resurfacing emotions I didn't know I was going to have to deal with. Like, seeing my dress again for the first time since my second fitting in 3 years. I loved and still love how beautiful it looks with my mom's veil, as if they were made to go together 40 years apart. But at that time I couldn't figure out my emotions. I stepped out of the dress and just wanted to move on with the rest of the day's tasks.
It seemed that every other detail: photographer, dj, florist, baker, while I have vendors in mind, I can't really move forward with any planning until we got our location picked and a deposit placed on a date. I've always wanted a hotel wedding for specific reasons: I don't want to spend my wedding day traveling from place to place. I want to wake up in a hotel suite, have hair & make-up come to me, have my bridesmaids and mom and mom-in-law all in the same room with me, go down the elevator, get married, dance my socks off (with my recently validated horrid dancing skills), go back up the elevator with my husband, and go to bed. That sounds like the perfect way to have a wedding to me. And as most of you know, I've been down this road before. I've planned a wedding, booked that hotel, arranged the details, and never saw the fruition of that vision. Now that I'm back in the proverbial saddle, I think some of those hurt emotions resurfaced and I wasn't prepared for it. Honestly, I didn't think they even existed. I've been so happy with Rick that I never gave them a thought. But as I spent an entire day emailing and researching hotels and venues and discovering the disappointments of inflated expenses and booked dates I got frustrated. And I got mad. I was mad that I planned a wedding, like I was robbed of the joy of doing this all for the first time. I was mad that every time someone innocently asked me if I had my wedding dress yet, I felt pressed to explain that I was engaged before so I've had it in storage for 3 years. It's like every time someone asks a question, a small knife was stabbing me, reminding me of that huge hurt. And it's not a grief for that wedding or that person I intending to marry. It's the fact that I had to go through that huge hurt. I cannot see the reason for why I had to endure that heartbreak or why it's scarred me so much that it's had this effect on what should be a very happy time now. I love Rick, he is the image to me of how Christ pursues his bride, the church. He would do anything for me, he loves me unconditionally. Even as I sat down to express these things to him when we both started to get frustrated with the location search, he just wrapped his arms around me and said, "It doesn't matter to me, I just want to see you at the end of the aisle. Wherever it ends up being."
I'm not a super anal person. I know plenty of people that are far more anal than me (*ahem* my brothers *ahem*). But I do know what I like, don't like, and what I want, especially when it comes to my wedding. I didn't want a cookie cutter location that looks like an average generic banquet hall with no character, no distinction, and chairs that beg you to upgrade to chivari. After one big disappointment, I finally caved and decided to give a "hall" a shot and made an appointment for a viewing. Before mom and I even walked through the vestibule, I was pretty certain this was it. The Iroquois Club. What made me change my vision of a hotel fairytale so quickly? I could envision my loved ones sitting in the seats, the Christmas lights hung on the wooden ceiling beams, Rick standing in front of the Wisconsin ledge-rock fireplace waiting for me, and I could see myself walking down the aisle in that beautiful dress. That's what I've subconsciously been looking for. It's difficult to put into words and I've sat on this blog post for some time now searching for a non-cliche way to describe the wedding planning process up to now. But alas, I must resort to the cliche of "I could just see it." Rick even agreed, it was the phrase he was waiting to hear out of me before he handed his card over for the deposit. "This is the place I can see us getting married in!"
In late January Mom, Tracy, and I attended a bridal show. Mom and I went to one a few years ago but I don't remember all the uncomfortable focused attention and the bombardment of questions like, "do you have your venue picked out, do you have your dress, what about a photographer, are you having a DJ, where will you honeymoon, what colors are you using, do you want to host a pure romance party??" While I was in the middle of it, I couldn't figure out why I was all of a sudden so uncomfortable with all the questions inquiring into my upcoming event but as I've processed it I think there may have been some resurfacing emotions I didn't know I was going to have to deal with. Like, seeing my dress again for the first time since my second fitting in 3 years. I loved and still love how beautiful it looks with my mom's veil, as if they were made to go together 40 years apart. But at that time I couldn't figure out my emotions. I stepped out of the dress and just wanted to move on with the rest of the day's tasks.
It seemed that every other detail: photographer, dj, florist, baker, while I have vendors in mind, I can't really move forward with any planning until we got our location picked and a deposit placed on a date. I've always wanted a hotel wedding for specific reasons: I don't want to spend my wedding day traveling from place to place. I want to wake up in a hotel suite, have hair & make-up come to me, have my bridesmaids and mom and mom-in-law all in the same room with me, go down the elevator, get married, dance my socks off (with my recently validated horrid dancing skills), go back up the elevator with my husband, and go to bed. That sounds like the perfect way to have a wedding to me. And as most of you know, I've been down this road before. I've planned a wedding, booked that hotel, arranged the details, and never saw the fruition of that vision. Now that I'm back in the proverbial saddle, I think some of those hurt emotions resurfaced and I wasn't prepared for it. Honestly, I didn't think they even existed. I've been so happy with Rick that I never gave them a thought. But as I spent an entire day emailing and researching hotels and venues and discovering the disappointments of inflated expenses and booked dates I got frustrated. And I got mad. I was mad that I planned a wedding, like I was robbed of the joy of doing this all for the first time. I was mad that every time someone innocently asked me if I had my wedding dress yet, I felt pressed to explain that I was engaged before so I've had it in storage for 3 years. It's like every time someone asks a question, a small knife was stabbing me, reminding me of that huge hurt. And it's not a grief for that wedding or that person I intending to marry. It's the fact that I had to go through that huge hurt. I cannot see the reason for why I had to endure that heartbreak or why it's scarred me so much that it's had this effect on what should be a very happy time now. I love Rick, he is the image to me of how Christ pursues his bride, the church. He would do anything for me, he loves me unconditionally. Even as I sat down to express these things to him when we both started to get frustrated with the location search, he just wrapped his arms around me and said, "It doesn't matter to me, I just want to see you at the end of the aisle. Wherever it ends up being."
I'm not a super anal person. I know plenty of people that are far more anal than me (*ahem* my brothers *ahem*). But I do know what I like, don't like, and what I want, especially when it comes to my wedding. I didn't want a cookie cutter location that looks like an average generic banquet hall with no character, no distinction, and chairs that beg you to upgrade to chivari. After one big disappointment, I finally caved and decided to give a "hall" a shot and made an appointment for a viewing. Before mom and I even walked through the vestibule, I was pretty certain this was it. The Iroquois Club. What made me change my vision of a hotel fairytale so quickly? I could envision my loved ones sitting in the seats, the Christmas lights hung on the wooden ceiling beams, Rick standing in front of the Wisconsin ledge-rock fireplace waiting for me, and I could see myself walking down the aisle in that beautiful dress. That's what I've subconsciously been looking for. It's difficult to put into words and I've sat on this blog post for some time now searching for a non-cliche way to describe the wedding planning process up to now. But alas, I must resort to the cliche of "I could just see it." Rick even agreed, it was the phrase he was waiting to hear out of me before he handed his card over for the deposit. "This is the place I can see us getting married in!"
So dear blog readers, the date is officially set, and our countdown has begun!
Sunday December 7, 2014
9 months
40 weeks
276 days.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
my biggest fear
It is a commandment: Go, and make disciples.
I was never very fond of this commandment. By nature, I'm not the most out-going and I'm certainly not the first to strike up a conversation. I'm also not the type to get caught up in philosophical debate or take a stated side in a heated controversy. I prefer to keep my opinions and my viewpoints quite and to myself. It doesn't matter that much to me what you think and it's not that I'm apathetic it's just I prefer to recognize everyone is entitled to their own opinion whether it's republican or democratic, gay or straight, abort or pro-life, chicken or beef, white or ecru. I have my standards and morals that I live by and I recognize everyone else does as well. In the end, God is our sovereign and final judge. But since I was small and could comprehend the gravity of sin and it's consequences and God's vast love in Christ's sacrifice, I've been quietly convicted of this commandment and struggled in mustering the courage to follow it.
Just because you go on a "mission trip" doesn't automatically make you a disciple-maker. In fact, I greatly struggled with my fear that I would be in a position to share my faith and I wouldn't have the words to say. I know God gives me those words "for it is the power of God at work," but Satan loves to trample on that truth and make my grip on it weaker by placing this doubt in my mind that I would clam up and be left wordless. I know, it seems silly to you as you read my mile and a half long blogs that I could possibly be wordless.
With this fear of being wordless to share my faith is also the fear of praying aloud with others. In small group settings I have no issues engaging in conversations. I like to think that I am personable and agreeable. I look forward to Sunday night sunday school, interviews are normally no sweat to me, and I meet new patients and family members all the time. But there is something about closing my eyes and speaking to my Father in front others that terrifies me. Here's the irrational fear: these "others" are my brothers and sisters in Christ who love Him and strive to follow Him and love and cherish their fellow siblings in Christ--just like me! So needless to say, last summer was challenging for me as I prepared with my team and traveled to Uganda for the work of God. I was fearful when people would ask about my trip that it might lead into a conversation about my faith and what I believe which I feared would prelude to judgement on my character.
It's only happened once before. February 2012 about 5 am and it too inspired a blog post. I do not handle anxious patients very well. When the Xanax, Ativan, and Seroquel doesn't work, I'm essentially left grasping for straws. So when my patient a few weeks ago spiraled into a full blown panic attack with no means of consoling her, I felt I had no where else to go. She said she was afraid of dying, that her heart would stop and I that she couldn't breath. She was fine. Heart rate was normal, her blood oxygen saturation was at 100%, her breathing rate although shallow, was sufficient. But when she said she was afraid of dying, I felt a pull on my heart to ask: "Do you know who Jesus is?" There it happened. That conversation starter I so feared initiating. Down South, this conversation is everyday. Especially in the hospital. My patients would be inviting me to their church services and talking about how their grandson is a preacher and what Sunday church potlucks were happening. Up here, I feel it's near taboo to even suggest a chaplain visit because why else would you need a religious leader in your hospital room unless you were about to die? But this poor woman so desperately needed the peace of Jesus. Here she was in her mid 80's petrified to die. I would like to think my only fear in death is what I may miss here on Earth but I know through my Savior that I will be with my heavenly Father where there is no sin, no fear, no suffering, and no pain. When I asked her about Jesus, her answer was heart-wrenching. She said she knew of him all her life. She went to church every week and tried to live a good life. But there are so many different things that people say about Him that she never knew what to believe. Eight plus years and she never found clarity. I narrowed it down and asked her what she thought about Jesus and who he was. She said he was a good person but she wasn't sure about what his purpose was. I asked if she talked to God at all and asked for his peace. She said yes but she was still terrified. I tried to focus on the positives in her life. She had been married for over 60 years, her next birthday was this month, she had successful children and beautiful grandchildren. But she was still focused on death. That was it, I had to tell her. She had lived 80 years in and out of church and never comprehended the simplicity of Salvation. I trudged through these unnavigated waters, silently praying to God for words as I did my best attempting to share these truths with my anxious patient:
God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners
Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through Him.
For it is by Grace you have been saved through faith
Therefore, since we have been made right in God's sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.
I've desired this to be an integral part of my nursing career. I am in such a wonderful position to share the work of God with strangers at such a vulnerable and undesired time of their lives. Shouldn't I be just a vulnerable to share my faith? But even as I think about approaching the subject with them, I feel tears welling in my eyes. Seriously just the thought of asking to pray with them I start to cry. I put myself in their shoes and I feel so heavily their pain. Especially at moments of passing. Instead, I quietly excuse myself, leave them to their privacy, and say a prayer in the hallway. And I greeve a missed opportunity again and again because of my irrational fear.
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.
I was never very fond of this commandment. By nature, I'm not the most out-going and I'm certainly not the first to strike up a conversation. I'm also not the type to get caught up in philosophical debate or take a stated side in a heated controversy. I prefer to keep my opinions and my viewpoints quite and to myself. It doesn't matter that much to me what you think and it's not that I'm apathetic it's just I prefer to recognize everyone is entitled to their own opinion whether it's republican or democratic, gay or straight, abort or pro-life, chicken or beef, white or ecru. I have my standards and morals that I live by and I recognize everyone else does as well. In the end, God is our sovereign and final judge. But since I was small and could comprehend the gravity of sin and it's consequences and God's vast love in Christ's sacrifice, I've been quietly convicted of this commandment and struggled in mustering the courage to follow it.
Just because you go on a "mission trip" doesn't automatically make you a disciple-maker. In fact, I greatly struggled with my fear that I would be in a position to share my faith and I wouldn't have the words to say. I know God gives me those words "for it is the power of God at work," but Satan loves to trample on that truth and make my grip on it weaker by placing this doubt in my mind that I would clam up and be left wordless. I know, it seems silly to you as you read my mile and a half long blogs that I could possibly be wordless.
With this fear of being wordless to share my faith is also the fear of praying aloud with others. In small group settings I have no issues engaging in conversations. I like to think that I am personable and agreeable. I look forward to Sunday night sunday school, interviews are normally no sweat to me, and I meet new patients and family members all the time. But there is something about closing my eyes and speaking to my Father in front others that terrifies me. Here's the irrational fear: these "others" are my brothers and sisters in Christ who love Him and strive to follow Him and love and cherish their fellow siblings in Christ--just like me! So needless to say, last summer was challenging for me as I prepared with my team and traveled to Uganda for the work of God. I was fearful when people would ask about my trip that it might lead into a conversation about my faith and what I believe which I feared would prelude to judgement on my character.
It's only happened once before. February 2012 about 5 am and it too inspired a blog post. I do not handle anxious patients very well. When the Xanax, Ativan, and Seroquel doesn't work, I'm essentially left grasping for straws. So when my patient a few weeks ago spiraled into a full blown panic attack with no means of consoling her, I felt I had no where else to go. She said she was afraid of dying, that her heart would stop and I that she couldn't breath. She was fine. Heart rate was normal, her blood oxygen saturation was at 100%, her breathing rate although shallow, was sufficient. But when she said she was afraid of dying, I felt a pull on my heart to ask: "Do you know who Jesus is?" There it happened. That conversation starter I so feared initiating. Down South, this conversation is everyday. Especially in the hospital. My patients would be inviting me to their church services and talking about how their grandson is a preacher and what Sunday church potlucks were happening. Up here, I feel it's near taboo to even suggest a chaplain visit because why else would you need a religious leader in your hospital room unless you were about to die? But this poor woman so desperately needed the peace of Jesus. Here she was in her mid 80's petrified to die. I would like to think my only fear in death is what I may miss here on Earth but I know through my Savior that I will be with my heavenly Father where there is no sin, no fear, no suffering, and no pain. When I asked her about Jesus, her answer was heart-wrenching. She said she knew of him all her life. She went to church every week and tried to live a good life. But there are so many different things that people say about Him that she never knew what to believe. Eight plus years and she never found clarity. I narrowed it down and asked her what she thought about Jesus and who he was. She said he was a good person but she wasn't sure about what his purpose was. I asked if she talked to God at all and asked for his peace. She said yes but she was still terrified. I tried to focus on the positives in her life. She had been married for over 60 years, her next birthday was this month, she had successful children and beautiful grandchildren. But she was still focused on death. That was it, I had to tell her. She had lived 80 years in and out of church and never comprehended the simplicity of Salvation. I trudged through these unnavigated waters, silently praying to God for words as I did my best attempting to share these truths with my anxious patient:
God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners
Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through Him.
For it is by Grace you have been saved through faith
Therefore, since we have been made right in God's sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.
I've desired this to be an integral part of my nursing career. I am in such a wonderful position to share the work of God with strangers at such a vulnerable and undesired time of their lives. Shouldn't I be just a vulnerable to share my faith? But even as I think about approaching the subject with them, I feel tears welling in my eyes. Seriously just the thought of asking to pray with them I start to cry. I put myself in their shoes and I feel so heavily their pain. Especially at moments of passing. Instead, I quietly excuse myself, leave them to their privacy, and say a prayer in the hallway. And I greeve a missed opportunity again and again because of my irrational fear.
She blessed me again and again in a way only a grandmotherly 80 year old woman can. She said I will never know what kind of blessing I've been and ironically, she asked God to bless me. Perhaps this experience already has. I'm always telling my patients that they cannot run a marathon when they are only well enough to take baby steps. Perhaps this is just another baby step for me in getting comfortable and facing my fear.
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.
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