through the rest of my life

Three years ago today, I exchanged vows with my husband. We didn't promise to care for each other in sickness or in health. Or in richness or poorness. Instead, we found different words to exchange - words that meant something more to me - to us.

Leslie, I love you and I know that this love is from God. Because of this, I want to be your husband so that we might serve Christ together. Through all of the uncertainties and trials of the present and future, I promise to be faithful to you and love you. I promise to guide and protect you as Christ does his church, as long as we both shall live. God's Word gives us the perfect example of this love in Christ's death for the Church. I shall try always, with God's help, to show you this same kind of love, for I know that in His sight we will both be one.
Justin, I love you. I prayed that God would lead me to his choice. I praise Him that tonight His will is being fulfilled. Through the pressures of the present and uncertainties of the future I promise my faithfulness, to follow you through all of life's experiences as you follow God, that together we may grow in the likeness of Christ and our home be a praise to Him.

No one stood beside as we pledged our love to each other. Friends came to the front and read poems or verses.

I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you, not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you, for the part of me that you bring out. I love you, for putting your hand into my heaped-up heart, and passing over all the foolish, weak things that you can’t help dimly seeing there, and for drawing out, into the light, all the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find. I love you, because you are helping me to make of the lumber of my life, not a tavern, but a temple. Out of the works of my every day, not a reproach, but a song. I love you, because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good, and more than any fate could have done to make me happy. You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a sign. You have done it by being yourself. Perhaps that is what being a friend means, after all. - “I Love You”, by Roy Croft

They say they will love, comfort, honor each other to the end of their days. They say they will cherish each other and be faithful to each other always. They say they will do these things not just when they feel like it, but even -- for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health -- when they don’t feel like it at all. In other words, the vows they make could hardly be more extravagant. They give away their freedom. They take on themselves each other’s burdens. They bind their live s together... The question is, what do they get in return? They get each other in return... There will always be the other to talk to, to listen to... There is still someone to get through the night with, to wake into the new day beside. If they have children, they can give them, as well as each other, roots and wings. If they don’t have children, they each become the other’s child. They both still have their lives apart as well as a life together. They both still have their separate ways to find. But a marriage made in heaven is one where a man and a woman become more richly themselves together than the chances are either of them could ever have managed to become alone. - Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words

Ultimately there comes a time when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take. It is indeed a fearful gamble. Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something, which has to be created. To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take. If we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession, but participation. It takes a lifetime to learn another person. When love is not possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling. - "The Irrational Season", by Madeleine L'Engle

Our mothers struggled to light the unity candle only to have it blown out minutes afterwards.

We exchanged rings.

These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever. These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together you build your future. These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch, will comfort you like no other. These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind. These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow, and as in today, tears of joy. These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children, the hands that will help you to hold your family as one. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it. And lastly, these are the hands that even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just a touch. - “Blessing of the Hands", revised by Rev. Daniel L. Harris

It rained all day leading up to the ceremony. The day was to be held outside. Our wedding coordinator suggested moving the ceremony inside, but I refused. I wanted an outdoor wedding. It was my dream. And just as I slipped my hand into the crook of my father's elbow, the rain stopped.

 

The ground was wet, and clouds lingered in the sky. Raindrops glistened on the luscious gardens, and our guests sat underneath tents. The reception was inside of the house rather than on the deck. And the ceremony went as planned.

 

I've said before that God orchestrated the wedding. He made the lighting perfect for pictures. He ensured that the hurrican threatening the Gulf Coast spared my parent's house while they were in Oklahoma City for my wedding. He brought together two families and created the family I have now with my husband.

But his orchestration didn't end with the wedding. It continues in the daily life of my marriage. Even when the storms threaten to keep us indoors. Even when it seems all hope is lost and that we will be swept away by a hurrican. He shows up. Right as we are about to step outside of our marriage. Right as we are ready to move on from where we are. He comes in and reminds us that He is there and will always be there.

 

That's why we're still married today. We are just two sinners saved by grace. And we have a God who loves us enough to fight for us (and our marriage) on the days that we are too tired to do anything but fight with each other.

(title from "we are man & wife" by michelle featherstone)

this weekend....

I arrived at the Oklahoma City Zoo before 7am on Saturday.

And walked three miles around the zoo - seeing zebras and other animals. 

The purpose was to raise awareness and prevent suicide, as well as to remember those who have been lost. And I rediscovered a passion to be there for people.

I spent Saturday afternoon napping on the couch with two of my favorite dogs. Brandy is pictured here.. 

We tried a new local restaurant on Saturday, and I ate the bison burger. It was delicious.

Sitting outside, we enjoyed the grey sky, cool air, and city we live in. I felt grateful and hopeful for living where we do.

I drank a frozen caramel blend coffee (with whipped cream) and ate a cupcake before taking this picture. They weren't the healthiest choices (something I am struggling with right now), but it was nice to enjoy.

I also enjoyed time with my husband and friends watching a live band at a local coffee shop. It helped that one of our friends was in the band.

On Sunday morning, I didn't set the alarm and lounged in bed, instead of going to the gym, while the dogs chewed on bones. Rascal is pictured here. All he really wants to do is sleep, eat, cuddle, and chew.

I ate frozen yogurt with my mother-in-law. We tried a new shop, and my favorite flavor was the no-sugar added strawberry.

I also purchased new clothes in a smaller size. It's exciting to me to be able to buy smaller clothes even though I get frustrated at how every size is different at every store and with every brand.

We gathered with people from across the city and participated in corporate worship. God reminded me of His presence and made me excited to serve Him and serve this city. He also reminded me (all weekend really) that He is in control. I will daily be saying "I trust You" and asking for guidance instead of going my own way.

And I finished Sunday night with homemade red beans and rice. We ate dinner sitting on the couch surrounded by our dogs - our little family that I so love.. 

My heart is full. So is my stomach. My mind is racing. My hips still ache from the three mile walk (pulled tendon), but I feel ready to tackle the next week and excited to see how God moves in the next few days. He has a purpose and a plan. And His way is always best. I can't wait to stop worrying and allow Him to do His work in me.

this isn't easy; this isn't clear

Not yet old enough to drive, I sat in the backseat with a friend of mine. It was the first time I had worn all black out of respect and the first time I'd stared loss right in the face. He was someone I knew from the ugly and messy years of junior high school. Ninth grade came, and just as had happened with the start of sixth grade, we went our separate ways. A dividing of friendships into different high schools due to rezoning.

I didn't think of him much. We had shared a few classrooms and maybe some laughs, but there was no deep friendship.

But when I heard that he was gone, I remembered. I remembered sitting in the hallways. I remembered talks by the lockers. I remembered all of it.

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. -Chuck Palahniuk

We were sophomores in high school. It's a time in life when everything seems that much harder. It's a time in life when no one understands. Many of us would be lying if we said we hadn't ever thought about it. When people are mean and you cry yourself to sleep and spend hours with a tightness in your chest, it's hard not to think about it.

Life would be better for everyone if I weren't here. Will things ever get better? Why is this so hard? I just don't think I can do it anymore. The thoughts go round and round in young minds. Parents and teachers tell you that it gets better. That this will all pass. And you want to believe the, but it is so hard.

He was on the football team. His letter jacket hanging next to a picture of him. The casket was closed. The funeral was held at the church I had attended Vacation Bible School as a child. It was the same church I decided that I believed in Jesus.

We sat in the balcony, near the back. I don't think I cried, but I could be wrong. I remember the lump in my throat and feeling how overwhelming this all was. We watched the remaining members of the football team walk in with their heads down. They wore letterjackets to remember him by. And his mother following. She was inconsolable.

As anyone who has been close to someone that has committed suicide knows, there is no other pain like that felt after the incident. -Peter Greene

That was my first funeral. I didn't understand it all then. I was only a teenager and still caught up in my own world of frustration and anxiety and crying myself to sleep some nights. But I knew that he was gone. I knew it had been his choice. And I knew he left behind so many people grieving for him, wishing he hadn't left, and wondering what his life would have been like.

It's been about 10 years now. I can remember the whisperings in the hall about his death. The details that were shared. The way people were shocked. Even the cruel jokes some high school students told. I remember the conversations I had with friends and the shock I felt that something like this had happened.

Life might not follow the path I thought it would. But that's because it is life. It is always changing and always moving. Even when it feels like there is no hope, there is. Even when you feel like you are alone, you aren't. When it feels like no one understands, remember that somwhere in the big, beautiful and messy world there is someone who does understand.

We are all connected. Our lives intertwine through the internet, mutual friends, and even the movies we watch. There's something bigger than any of us that holds everything together and keeps every heart beating. There is so much to live for. Even when it is dark and seems like the sun will never shine, there is more to live for. Eventually the sun will rise, and you will be blinded by the brightness.

If you're feeling low, don't despair. The sun has a sinking spell every night, but it comes back up every morning. The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. -Dolly Parton

And that is why I am walking. There are events happening across the country over the course of the next year. One will take place in Oklahoma City on 9/10/11. And I will be there to walk the three to five miles. I will be there to remember those who have been lost, to fight for those who think there is no hope, and to raise awareness of this epidemic. It's time to do something, and while it might not be much for just one person to walk, I know God has huge plans to join many people together and walk for this one cause.

There is the opporunity to donate. I'm hoping to raise $150 at least. But to me the money isn't as important as people joining together for one cause. Understanding of the prevention of suicide is important. Joining together to combat the darkness that plagues so many is important. I'm excited to share this journey with as many as want to walk alongside me (our group is Frontline Youth) or walk in their own cities. All donations will go directly to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Over seven-million dollars has been raised so far. We can end this and remind people that they are loved beyond measure.

(title from "when a heart breaks" by ben rector)

need that to be enough

I've considered how to start this particular post multiple times, and each time I consider the beginning, I consider the words that will follow. Will they be positive? Will the exude strength? How much will I open up? Why can't I just be past this point already? Is any of this even worth documenting? Are others as sick of this constant back and forth as I am?

Because I am sick of it. And exhausted from it. And starting to really, truly wonder if I can even do this. There's a voice in my mind that tells me to stop, to give up, to not even try anymore. And I am doing my best to quiet that voice. It still wins out sometimes.

I've said before that it is not just about weight. This journey does not only include eating well and exercising often. There is a life outside of those things. Friendships to maintain and strengthen. A marriage to tend to. Two dogs who stick close to my side whenever I am home. A family to connect with whenever possible. A 40-hour work week to complete. A life to turn into what I want, hope, and pray it will be. A house to worry about.

If it were just about weight, I think this journey would be easier. I could focus on exercising for hours a day. I could limit the foods in my kitchen to suit only my needs. I could sleep in the middle of the day and take my dogs on walks.

But this journey is about life and what life is like when trying to lose weight.

We went to church on Sunday. I was tired and frustrated with myself. I'd failed to complete the second week of phase one of the South Beach Diet. I felt every ounce of my failure. I also felt every ounce of my being that wanted nothing more but to sit at home and consume comfort foods. Every ounce of my being that had been ready to crawl into bed at 8pm (and did one night) just so I could sleep and forget about the previous day and maybe put off the worry of the next day.

With minutes to spare before the start of the service, I settled into my seat and read through the bulletin. The church recently purchased a building. It's a historical church in the city that needs quite a bit of work, and within the bulletin, there was a pamphlet explaining the funds needed to be raised for the church. The breakdown of money took up one side of the pamphlet, and then on the other side was an explanation of the reason for the breakdown.

I came to the end of the explanation and read about how so many of us focus on the end goal instead of trusting God to walk with us through the journey. I leaned over to my husband and read the words aloud to him. I mentioned how much I struggle with focusing on the end goal, and he smiled because he knows.

How I wish I could say this sparked a change. That I let go of my desire to focus on the end goal and decided to put my faith and trust into a God that's never failed me before. How I wish I could say that the rest of the weekend and this week so far was wonderful and lacked any sort of anxiety.

But I can't honestly say any of that. Because this week has been hard. The rest of the day on Sunday was hard. Filled with all of these emotions (mainly anger and frustration) I couldn't seem to control, I let loose in a less than attractive manner. There were tears. I raised my voice. I didn't want to be comforted. And I felt the weight of it all.

This weight clings to me still. Maybe not as tightly as once before, but it is there. It comes in the form of the dogs ripping off the storm door at the back of the house. It comes in the form of our car being broken into and our house almost being broken into. It comes in the form of the scale either not moving or climbing back up to a number I hoped I had left behind for good.

So how do I move past all of this for good? That's what is on my mind each waking moment. And every night this week, since Saturday, we have completed a devotional together. And every night this week, the words have struck true to the weight and to the struggle and to where I am in my daily life and walk.

The most powerful words came on Tuesday night. Exhausted from sharing my hurts and struggles in a group setting, I came home unsure of what to do. There was a part of me that felt lighter. I had let people in. I had exposed myself. I was able to hear other's stories and to hear a faint whispering that I wasn't alone.

It's so hard for me to truly open up. I can let go of pieces of myself and share stories, but to show someone everything is terrifying. Because I feel like I have no right to struggle or to feel frustrated or to be anything but perfect. Compared to others my life is wonderful. Compared to others I have nothing to complain about.

But with urging from my husband to talk and a feeling rising up in my chest, I opened up. I didn't realize then that it was 364 days before I had had such an amazing and lifechanging experience. I think about that day and I know it was real and true. And I wonder both why some of those things have not yet come true and why I struggle with the same things now as I did then.

With all this in mind, and with a heart that felt raw and exposed, I settled into bed with my husband and opened to the devotional of the night. As we read the words, I knew they were meant for me in that exact moment.

I've spent so much time being strong. Or at least wanting to be strong. I've been through plenty to warrant strength, and even during the times when many would cave or fall or lose it, I held on. I tucked my chin to my chest and moved forward. I often wondered "why me." I didn't want pity. I wanted to understand why certain things happened to me and not to others. I wanted to understand why it couldn't just be easy.

Reading this devotional opened my eyes just a little bit. There is still a part of me that doesn't want to hear what I am being told, but I am quieting that part. I am turning to the Truth I know in the midst of all of this and asking for help that only He can provide me.

I need help with eating well. I need help with exercising (especially this week when I am tired and agitated). I need help with being a wife. I need help with my house. I need help with letting go of all the plans I have for every single day. I need help to sit still and soak up His presence. I need help (and constant reminders) that this journey is just as much about the journey and steps to get to the end as it is the end.

Desperately, I want to be positive and upbeat. I want to remind others that they can do this. That there is no giving up. I want to inspire. And I struggle with that so much as well because I feel like I am anything but positive and upbeat. In the midst of this struggle, I found a quote from Winston Churchill.

The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.

I chose to see opportunity in these difficulties. As I struggle with the questions listed above, I remember that this blog is a documentation of the past, of the present, and of what I want for the future. It is an avenue to document the life lessons as well as a place to come and to let go of all those struggles and words I keep holed up inside. It is an opportunity to share my story and also an opportunity to share my heart.

It is also an opportunity to share a place to mourn, a place to celebrate, a place to share, and a place to rest.

I hope you can find those places as well. If it's here, then welcome. I can't wait to find the different opportunities in every single difficulty.

(title from "lovely" by sara haze)