just blink your eyes

Time stands still. Time flies by.

At the moment I can't tell what it's doing. It seems like just yesterday I was counting down to my wedding day from 100. And suddenly (or is it finally?) we are under two weeks. Unbelievable. Everything is starting to rush by -- but I am still watching it go by in slow motion. I feel like I could close my eyes and it would be right here. There is so much to take in, prepare for, jump into, hold back, and let go. But the day is drawing near, and happiness is swelling. People keep asking me, "Is it sinking in? Does this feel real yet?" Again, yes and no. Because marriage is something I have never experienced, I don't think I can fully prepare for what it will be like. What does feel real is the knowledge that it's coming. And very soon.

Every time I stop for a moment and try to take it all in, my heart almost trembles at God's overwhelming goodness. There are so many needs and questions and decisions that demand resolution, and all we can do is hold out our empty hands and ask for His goodness.

And He fills us. He is guiding us. He is giving us beyond what we could ever ask or think.

~~~

Just blink your eyes and how time has shifted. I wrote the above paragraphs two weeks before my wedding day and now here I am almost two months later: married, happy, and still waiting for the "unreal" to become reality. And I need mercy. The older I get and the more life I expereince, the more I crave His mercy. Mercy to understand. Mercy to serve. Mercy to live in unfamiliar territory for awhile. Mercy to trust Him with all of my inadequacies knowing that His strength is perfect.

And it's a good place to be in.

the girl with the new last name

My eyes opened while the morning was still young and covered in darkness. It was one of those mornings when you are startled out of a dream and it takes a few moments to remember where you are. I rolled over and looked at the outline of numbers keeping time beside my bed. 4:47. Then suddenly, like a wave of warm sea water the revelation hit me in the face.

Today I'm getting married.

And I heard nothing but my own heartbeat all day, until the moment he clutched my hand and I leaned into his shoulder during communion while the faces of our dear family and friends looked on. We took of His body and blood together -- the sacrifice that allowed God and man to become one -- the sacrifice that surrounds Brian and my unity. A song played around us and I listened to it now. Not the song, but the beat. His heart and mine. Together making promises for our lives that only the Sacrifice we take of could help us keep.

I took his name with me as I walked off of that stage. And I intend to keep it and honor it forever. Because marriage isn't something that just happens when two people fall in love. It's grandeur than a movie and closer than the rings around our fingers. Marriage is the sound of a veil tearing. Everything within you must unfold before the sinner you were made to love and respect, not just on the wedding day but every day.

I love my husband. And I adore the Giver of all good things, like marriage and the sweet man who is in this together with me. And I love my new last name.

"Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare." (Psalms 40:5)

birdsongs

There is something about waking up before daylight; something quieting, something hushed, something you lean in to listen to. Before the world yawns awake the dark stillness presses the light-lover in you to begin looking out windows or windshields for the hope of the day. The light cannot be seen but she is coming. The sounds are what you feel more than anything at first. The click of the kettle turning off. The squeaky last stair. A soft whispered "good morning."

And then the birdsong begins.

Alone in the dark, another beating feathered soul is bursting with the joy of this morning. She sings out aware of nothing else except the coming dawn. And my heart smiles at this delicate confidence that a new day is near and deserves to be welcomed. Good morning.

There is something about the mornings that make you listen to the birdsong. And I am reminded that darkness gives us eyes and ears to experience the gifts overlooked or overwhelmed by the sound of living. May I learn to always listen for the faithful little songs that are filled with the gentle melodies of God's goodness.

the engagement story

Gather around my friends...

It was a dark and stormy night, quite foggy too, on the day Brian and I became engaged; just perfect for trying to plan an outdoor proposal, I am sure. Because Brian and my work schedules were a little conflicting during this time, Tuesday afternoon was almost the only day open for us both before Christmas and we decided to have a nice date despite the weather. He originally told me that we were going downtown for a later dinner at a cozy little Italian restaurant, thus we needed to kill some time beforehand. After he picked me up, we drove around the mountain chatting and catching up when Brian turned to go down to the brow overlook.

This was not strange to me because we often drive to the brow and talk and look at the city lights. I was completely oblivious to what was about to happen. We both got out of the truck and looked down toward the brow. He kinda shrugged his shoulders and said, "Do you want to go down?" [I'm telling you, the man was as calm as could be during this whole process thus far. I am truly amazed looking back.] Well I have always found fog to be romantic and a little fog didn't bother me in the least. I was still thinking that we were simply killing time, so we might as well stop at the brow for a little while. Before we left the truck to walk down, Brian pulls out from behind his seat this relatively large cardboard box and begins to take it with us. Before I could even ask, "What in the world?" he told me it was an early Christmas present he wanted me to have. Again, call me naive, but I really suspected nothing.

We got down to the overlook and gazed at the mysterious wall of fog surrounding us. It was so quiet, the kind of muffled quiet only fog can bring. I eyed the box and Brian gave me his knife to cut the tape. Inside was a stained-glass crimson star wrapped in newspaper. It was so beautiful. I picked it up and held it for a moment. I sat it back in the paper and gave Brian a hug. He laughed and said, "Well why don't you look inside?"

This is the moment, folks, when dear old Kaysie finally got a twinge of suspicion. My heart started beating faster and my breath kind of caught in my throat. I remember thinking to myself, "He's not about to..." I slowly opened the tiny door in the center of the star. Inside was the most beautiful ring I've ever seen and a poem, which I quickly recognized was written by Wendell Berry, written in Brian's handwriting taped inside the door.

I didn't move, I didn't breathe, I just stood there with my hands covering my mouth not believing what was sitting in front of me. I think I remember my leg shaking because I was trying not to cry, which didn't end up working. I am unsure of how long I would have remained in this stone-like position if it had not been for Brian finally reaching inside and taking the ring, getting down on one knee and telling me how much he loved me before asking me to marry him. I think you might suspect what my answer was... YES! He slipped the ring onto my finger and we both stared at it for a few moments. As we hugged, my happy tears soaked into his jacket while I looked up into the evening sky unable to utter anything, yet my heart was overwhelmed with gratitude. We were both speechless for a little while.

And I thought my heart was going to explode from pure happiness. God is truly good to those who wait for Him, to those who seek Him...