Despite how it trails me everywhere, despite that the email address still forwards to me, despite that I still occasionally introduce myself incorrectly, the truth is that I am no long Maggie Emma Thomas.
As such, it's time to retire this blog, whose very name is no longer correct.
You can find our new one over at BookofKellers.wordpress.com.
Love,
Maggie Keller
12.05.2011
11.14.2011
on not being that woman
You guys. The silence. It's inexcusable. Especially because 1 month ago today, I got married.
And I'm sorry. And I promise that we're going to blog about the ceremony (which was oh, so holy and worshipful and community-focused and exactly what we'd hoped for) and the reception (which was staggeringly, breathtaking beautiful thanks to my talented mother and her talented crew) and the honeymoon (which was warm and relaxing and long).
But today I need to laugh, and I need you to laugh with me.
So yesterday I was tooling around on Pinterest, the website which proves that women are, in fact, visual creatures. And while I was on Pinterest, I saw this picture:
Don't those look delicious? The simple caption beneath the photo read "Apples + cinnamon + oven @ 200 degrees = homemade apple chips."
So I turned to Jon, who was reading beside me (how great is married life?), and said: "I think I'll make these tonight with the leftover apples from our wedding." Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
I sliced up the apples and arranged them just so on our cookie tray with our silpat pan liner (love!). I went to grab the cinnamon out of the cupboard when I realized we have no cinnamon. However, I'd received a Penzey's spice box decorated with whole cinnamon sticks (shower gifts for the win). I pulled out our the-holes-are-too-small-to-be-a-decent cheese grater and went to work. When that proved nearly impossible, I turned to the Magic Bullet (Ashley knows me so well) and pulverized those pieces. I sprinkled my fresh gourmet ground cinnamon on my apple slices. So certain was I of my imminent success, I saved the rest in a jar to used on future apple chip endeavors.
As I popped the tray of soon-to-be apple chips into the oven, I hugged Jon and remarked smugly, "I might just become one of those women, y'know, the kind who grind their own cinnamon and bake their own apple chips." What I meant was "I might just become the Pioneer Woman."
Okay stop laughing.
I was supposed to flip the chips after an hour. I forgot about them amidst folding laundry and got to them after 1:15. Half were already burned beyond repair and the other half, my ever-loving Cortlands, had been reduced to dry-on-the-outside-applesauce-flesh-on-the-inside apple-ish-kind-of rings.
Together, Jon and Isorted through the chips tasted every one, determining whether it was edible. I threw away many that were too brown to even talk about.
As I cleaned up the kitchen, I turned to Jon and said, defeated, "Guess I'm not that woman after all."
He just smiled, kissed me, and said "Not yet."
And I'm sorry. And I promise that we're going to blog about the ceremony (which was oh, so holy and worshipful and community-focused and exactly what we'd hoped for) and the reception (which was staggeringly, breathtaking beautiful thanks to my talented mother and her talented crew) and the honeymoon (which was warm and relaxing and long).
But today I need to laugh, and I need you to laugh with me.
So yesterday I was tooling around on Pinterest, the website which proves that women are, in fact, visual creatures. And while I was on Pinterest, I saw this picture:
Don't those look delicious? The simple caption beneath the photo read "Apples + cinnamon + oven @ 200 degrees = homemade apple chips."
So I turned to Jon, who was reading beside me (how great is married life?), and said: "I think I'll make these tonight with the leftover apples from our wedding." Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
I sliced up the apples and arranged them just so on our cookie tray with our silpat pan liner (love!). I went to grab the cinnamon out of the cupboard when I realized we have no cinnamon. However, I'd received a Penzey's spice box decorated with whole cinnamon sticks (shower gifts for the win). I pulled out our the-holes-are-too-small-to-be-a-decent cheese grater and went to work. When that proved nearly impossible, I turned to the Magic Bullet (Ashley knows me so well) and pulverized those pieces. I sprinkled my fresh gourmet ground cinnamon on my apple slices. So certain was I of my imminent success, I saved the rest in a jar to used on future apple chip endeavors.
As I popped the tray of soon-to-be apple chips into the oven, I hugged Jon and remarked smugly, "I might just become one of those women, y'know, the kind who grind their own cinnamon and bake their own apple chips." What I meant was "I might just become the Pioneer Woman."
Okay stop laughing.
I was supposed to flip the chips after an hour. I forgot about them amidst folding laundry and got to them after 1:15. Half were already burned beyond repair and the other half, my ever-loving Cortlands, had been reduced to dry-on-the-outside-applesauce-flesh-on-the-inside apple-ish-kind-of rings.
Together, Jon and I
As I cleaned up the kitchen, I turned to Jon and said, defeated, "Guess I'm not that woman after all."
He just smiled, kissed me, and said "Not yet."
10.13.2011
9.21.2011
the best RSVP
We received a negative RSVP yesterday from someone who was not invited to the wedding.
And it was the best RSVP ever.
Let me back up [quite] a bit: In the summer of 2008, I worked part-time as an editorial intern at this publishing house. I learned a lot that summer, namely, that I did not want to work as an editor. I like ending sentences with prepositions too much for that.
I wrote a lot about those experiences here on this blog, which was brand new that summer. I wrote about forgetting what time to show up on the first day and rearranging bookstore shelves to showcase our books and proofreading an omnibus and then the end of it all.
I also did a lot of reading that summer. One of my favorites that summer was the book Danny Gospel by David Athey. And then David Athey came to the office one day and I met him. It was a fascinating conversation, one I will never forget, and reminded me how spiritual an experience writing is for me and for others like me.
Back to yesterday: we received an RSVP from David Athey. A negative RSVP to the apple picking afternoon. In the comments he wrote the following, which has blessed me every time I read it:
And it was the best RSVP ever.
Let me back up [quite] a bit: In the summer of 2008, I worked part-time as an editorial intern at this publishing house. I learned a lot that summer, namely, that I did not want to work as an editor. I like ending sentences with prepositions too much for that.
I wrote a lot about those experiences here on this blog, which was brand new that summer. I wrote about forgetting what time to show up on the first day and rearranging bookstore shelves to showcase our books and proofreading an omnibus and then the end of it all.
I also did a lot of reading that summer. One of my favorites that summer was the book Danny Gospel by David Athey. And then David Athey came to the office one day and I met him. It was a fascinating conversation, one I will never forget, and reminded me how spiritual an experience writing is for me and for others like me.
Back to yesterday: we received an RSVP from David Athey. A negative RSVP to the apple picking afternoon. In the comments he wrote the following, which has blessed me every time I read it:
Hey Maggie, In appreciation for the kind words you wrote about me on your blog, I would like to send you a copy of my new novel for a wedding gift. God bless you and Jon! Kind regards, David AtheyIt was remarkable and exciting, and I'm really looking forward to reading (and reviewing!) his new novel.
8.25.2011
keeping it light
If one thing has come to light in the process of planning this wedding, it's that I am NOT a details girl. Not even hardly. You want that place card? No problem. Invitations should include that information? You got it. I should be here, at that time, meeting with that person? Sure thing.
Mi madre, on the other hand, is Queen of All Details. This event is of utmost importance to her. And as we've previously established, I'm more excited to be married than to get married. Which is why mom is an invaluable member of this team. Definitely more useful than me. And I am so grateful for her efficiency, her attention to detail, her organization, and her savvy negotiating.
She's also really fun to mess with. ("with which to mess"?)
It all started with the wedding website. There's a place to suggest songs for the dance, and the very first suggestion we got was from "Audrey Thomas." She suggested the song C'est la vie by Bob Seger and commented, "It really gets me moving." Turns out, my dad was the mastermind behind that one and wrote my Mom's name on the suggestion. Classic dad move. Hilarious.
Ten days ago, I forwarded Mom a proof of our wedding invite, as designed by the one and only Sean Rubin (Jon's best man/best friend). The copy read like this:
Ooh, we got her good. She shared it with my dad, too, and at first blush, they figured it was a joke. They let it soak in a minute and then, so they tell me, shared a horrified exchange that went something like: "They're joking, right?" "What if they're serious?" "No, it has to be a joke." "Wait, but what if it's not?"
Oh we're so bad. So mean. Of course it was a joke. We would never. But it was hilarious.
And then today happened. Sean got her again. He designed everything for our invitations, including the insert cards. He sent us a proof today for a new one that read:
Mi madre, on the other hand, is Queen of All Details. This event is of utmost importance to her. And as we've previously established, I'm more excited to be married than to get married. Which is why mom is an invaluable member of this team. Definitely more useful than me. And I am so grateful for her efficiency, her attention to detail, her organization, and her savvy negotiating.
She's also really fun to mess with. ("with which to mess"?)
It all started with the wedding website. There's a place to suggest songs for the dance, and the very first suggestion we got was from "Audrey Thomas." She suggested the song C'est la vie by Bob Seger and commented, "It really gets me moving." Turns out, my dad was the mastermind behind that one and wrote my Mom's name on the suggestion. Classic dad move. Hilarious.
Ten days ago, I forwarded Mom a proof of our wedding invite, as designed by the one and only Sean Rubin (Jon's best man/best friend). The copy read like this:
Mr. & Mrs. Anthony Thomas
request the honour of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Communications Director at Rivendell Sanctuary
and member of the Screen Actors' Guild
Margaret Emma
to
Jonathan McCrary Keller
CEO of MNY Group, LLC
and son of Rev. Dr. & Mrs. John Keller
request the honour of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Communications Director at Rivendell Sanctuary
and member of the Screen Actors' Guild
Margaret Emma
to
Jonathan McCrary Keller
CEO of MNY Group, LLC
and son of Rev. Dr. & Mrs. John Keller
Ooh, we got her good. She shared it with my dad, too, and at first blush, they figured it was a joke. They let it soak in a minute and then, so they tell me, shared a horrified exchange that went something like: "They're joking, right?" "What if they're serious?" "No, it has to be a joke." "Wait, but what if it's not?"
Oh we're so bad. So mean. Of course it was a joke. We would never. But it was hilarious.
And then today happened. Sean got her again. He designed everything for our invitations, including the insert cards. He sent us a proof today for a new one that read:
Make the Celebrations Stop!
Feel free to nap on your bar stool,
delirious from exhaustion
Chili's Express
MSP Airport, 5pm Saturday
RAIN OR SHINE
Hosted by Jeff Richmond-Moll and Sean Rubin
First person to arrive please claim a table.
It was hilarious, and what I've come to learn is a classic Sean move. Jon forwarded it to Mom, and we got her again. She now says she can hardly wait to meet Sean, as he seems like quite the jokester.
Sean, this is why we love you.
And Mom, this is how we show you we love you. Thanks for being such a gracious good sport! ;)
Feel free to nap on your bar stool,
delirious from exhaustion
Chili's Express
MSP Airport, 5pm Saturday
RAIN OR SHINE
Hosted by Jeff Richmond-Moll and Sean Rubin
First person to arrive please claim a table.
It was hilarious, and what I've come to learn is a classic Sean move. Jon forwarded it to Mom, and we got her again. She now says she can hardly wait to meet Sean, as he seems like quite the jokester.
Sean, this is why we love you.
And Mom, this is how we show you we love you. Thanks for being such a gracious good sport! ;)
8.23.2011
on trying so hard
I spent a good chunk of my Sunday at that bastion of commercialism, Mall of America. Granted, I had a really good excuse (finding shoes to get married in!) but 4 hours of speed-walking around strollers, tourists, and old slow people with nothing to show for it at the end was exhausting.
While in a certain upscale department store's dressing room, I overheard two little girls in the dressing room across from me. Let me clarify: they were likely about 12 years old. Now that I'm double their age, they qualify as little girls.
(What's that, you say? You thought I was shopping for shoes? Yeah, well, I found some dresses I wanted to try on. Not the point.)
So I can hear them in the dressing room. They're trying on dresses. Helping each other get zipped in. Chatting endlessly. And then I actually starteavesdropping listening.
They're trying so hard to talk like grown-up women.
Girl 1: I just have 2 dresses left to try on.
Girl 2: Yeah, me, too.
Girl 1: And then we can go try on teen dresses. I could tell you really wanted to try on teen dresses, but I just really wanted to try on these gowns.
(later)
Girl 1: You're so lucky you have a strapless bra.
Girl 2: I bought it from Victoria's Secret.
Girl 1: My mom doesn't let me buy fancy underwear or bras. She always asks me, "Who are you showing your underwear to?" Like, mom, I'm not showing it to anyone! I believe in a strong foundation.
Girl 2: I bought a bra once for $36. My mom told me I couldn't wear it to school. She said it wasn't appropriate. I was like, "Mom! I bought this with my hard earned money!"
(later)
Girl 1: Ooooooh this is like a wedding dress! I thought this store didn't sell wedding dresses!
Girl 2: You be the bride and I'll be the bridesmaid. Dum, dum, da-dum...
Girl 1: I can't wait til I get to go wedding dress shopping someday.
Oh, sweetie. It will be here before you know it.
As I was listening to their conversation, it struck me how anxious we are to grow up. How hard we try, even subconsciously, to sound older, more adult. How easily we mimic the words and phrases we hear adults use because that is the external indicator of adulthood. I say "we" because I'm confident it was me in that dressing room, 12 years ago, trying ever so hard to not be 12.
While in a certain upscale department store's dressing room, I overheard two little girls in the dressing room across from me. Let me clarify: they were likely about 12 years old. Now that I'm double their age, they qualify as little girls.
(What's that, you say? You thought I was shopping for shoes? Yeah, well, I found some dresses I wanted to try on. Not the point.)
So I can hear them in the dressing room. They're trying on dresses. Helping each other get zipped in. Chatting endlessly. And then I actually start
They're trying so hard to talk like grown-up women.
Girl 1: I just have 2 dresses left to try on.
Girl 2: Yeah, me, too.
Girl 1: And then we can go try on teen dresses. I could tell you really wanted to try on teen dresses, but I just really wanted to try on these gowns.
(later)
Girl 1: You're so lucky you have a strapless bra.
Girl 2: I bought it from Victoria's Secret.
Girl 1: My mom doesn't let me buy fancy underwear or bras. She always asks me, "Who are you showing your underwear to?" Like, mom, I'm not showing it to anyone! I believe in a strong foundation.
Girl 2: I bought a bra once for $36. My mom told me I couldn't wear it to school. She said it wasn't appropriate. I was like, "Mom! I bought this with my hard earned money!"
(later)
Girl 1: Ooooooh this is like a wedding dress! I thought this store didn't sell wedding dresses!
Girl 2: You be the bride and I'll be the bridesmaid. Dum, dum, da-dum...
Girl 1: I can't wait til I get to go wedding dress shopping someday.
Oh, sweetie. It will be here before you know it.
As I was listening to their conversation, it struck me how anxious we are to grow up. How hard we try, even subconsciously, to sound older, more adult. How easily we mimic the words and phrases we hear adults use because that is the external indicator of adulthood. I say "we" because I'm confident it was me in that dressing room, 12 years ago, trying ever so hard to not be 12.
8.18.2011
we actually did it.
Well, we pulled it off!
Yesterday 29 new students (and their parents, siblings, even a grandparent or two) moved onto campus as the newest class of our growing college. 1 more moves in this afternoon.
It was a blessed day. And it's been a crazy several months, weeks, and days leading up.
From scrubbing furniture to hanging pictures to setting up classrooms to organizing orientation schedules/folders/nametags it has been a constant stream of work for many months, growing ever-crazier by the day.
I am grateful, so overwhelmingly grateful, to be part of a team - this team - who loves God and loves students. It brings us to tears (quite literally - my boss choked up during Orientation) that parents would entrust their precious children to us to mold, disciple, shape, challenge and influence for 18 months. It is a weighty responsibility and a privilege. And I love my job.
A couple families pulled me aside yesterday and told me that I am the reason their child is at Rivendell. How humbling. How encouraging. And the truth is that this is so much more than a job for me; this is a calling. God has placed me here to help guide students through the process of transitioning to the next stage, to excellence, to better.
So thankful for a job that calls out my strengths and assembles a team that is strong where I'm not. So thankful for parents and students who are understanding, coworkers who are tireless and unflappable, and friends and family who are supportive -- even when I work 40 hours in 3 days.
Here's to our ever-growing "family" and all the richness therein.
Yep, therein.
Yesterday 29 new students (and their parents, siblings, even a grandparent or two) moved onto campus as the newest class of our growing college. 1 more moves in this afternoon.
It was a blessed day. And it's been a crazy several months, weeks, and days leading up.
From scrubbing furniture to hanging pictures to setting up classrooms to organizing orientation schedules/folders/nametags it has been a constant stream of work for many months, growing ever-crazier by the day.
I am grateful, so overwhelmingly grateful, to be part of a team - this team - who loves God and loves students. It brings us to tears (quite literally - my boss choked up during Orientation) that parents would entrust their precious children to us to mold, disciple, shape, challenge and influence for 18 months. It is a weighty responsibility and a privilege. And I love my job.
A couple families pulled me aside yesterday and told me that I am the reason their child is at Rivendell. How humbling. How encouraging. And the truth is that this is so much more than a job for me; this is a calling. God has placed me here to help guide students through the process of transitioning to the next stage, to excellence, to better.
So thankful for a job that calls out my strengths and assembles a team that is strong where I'm not. So thankful for parents and students who are understanding, coworkers who are tireless and unflappable, and friends and family who are supportive -- even when I work 40 hours in 3 days.
Here's to our ever-growing "family" and all the richness therein.
Yep, therein.
7.11.2011
life recently, by the numbers
Two years ago today, I accepted the position to teach in Nigeria.
One year ago today, I introduced Mrs. O and Mercy to my parents in Minneapolis.
11 months ago today, I started working at Rivendell Sanctuary in a job that fits me perfectly.
10.5 months ago, I went to Filet Friday Formal (on Saturday) and found a new community of friends.
9.5 months ago, I started dating Jon Keller.
9-7 months ago, I fell in love.
6 months ago, I pulled off my first Orientation Day for 25 students + parents.
3 months ago, I told Jon Keller I would marry him.
2 hours ago, I started training our brand new admin assistant (and thus secured my own sanity).
In 5 weeks, we will welcome 30-35 more students for our second Orientation Day.
In 95 days (13 weeks!) I will marry Jon Keller.
In 97 days, Jon and I leave for Tahiti, New Caledonia, New Zealand, and Australia.
One year ago today, I introduced Mrs. O and Mercy to my parents in Minneapolis.
11 months ago today, I started working at Rivendell Sanctuary in a job that fits me perfectly.
10.5 months ago, I went to Filet Friday Formal (on Saturday) and found a new community of friends.
9.5 months ago, I started dating Jon Keller.
9-7 months ago, I fell in love.
6 months ago, I pulled off my first Orientation Day for 25 students + parents.
3 months ago, I told Jon Keller I would marry him.
2 hours ago, I started training our brand new admin assistant (and thus secured my own sanity).
In 5 weeks, we will welcome 30-35 more students for our second Orientation Day.
In 95 days (13 weeks!) I will marry Jon Keller.
In 97 days, Jon and I leave for Tahiti, New Caledonia, New Zealand, and Australia.
6.16.2011
three very special members of the class of 2011
(photo stolen shamelessly from Mercy)There they are. My beautiful students from my homeroom last year, Grade 11 (minus Grace who is in Indonesia now). These 3 - they are incredible people. I can't fathom the ways they will contribute to this world and build the kingdom of God.
I am simultaneously consumed with pride for them and their accomplishments, and crushed knowing I wasn't able to be at their graduation ceremony today.
Chima, Tomi, Winston - go forth in the knowledge that you are loved fiercely, supported by a community (ICS!) who believes in you, and empowered to accomplish every good work God has prepared in advance for you to do. I miss you!
Love,
Miss Maggie
P.S. Just because she isn't in the picture doesn't mean I've forgotten that we were four last year! Miss you, too, Grace!!!
6.13.2011
on photo-swooning
How is it possible that when I look at a photo of my handsome fiance, I absolutely melt? It's sure to happen every time. He's so darn good looking! (And I'm so darn lucky!)
Tell me how I was supposed to withstand these photos, the first 5 of from our engagement session (because let me tell ya, I was a goofy-grin, giggly mess when I saw these):
Gosh, I just love him.
I can't look at these pictures and have any other reaction but "Oh man, I get to marry him."
Tell me how I was supposed to withstand these photos, the first 5 of from our engagement session (because let me tell ya, I was a goofy-grin, giggly mess when I saw these):
Gosh, I just love him. I can't look at these pictures and have any other reaction but "Oh man, I get to marry him."
6.10.2011
on sex & souls
One of our students shared this video recently on Facebook, called Sexual Healing. The young man's passion and conviction reminds me of my students who wrote and performed their own poems at last year's Poetry Cafe.
It's worth watching, if not for this one line:
It's worth watching, if not for this one line:
If sex is just for fun, why does it take such a toll?...
Because you don't just have sex with a body, you have sex with a soul.
6.08.2011
on other people's transitions
So, obviously, transition is a big theme of my life. So much so that I'm wondering when I won't find myself in transition. But in all my self-absorption and focus on my own transition, I forget that others are in transition, too. I'm remembering that their transitions can affect me, often in very bittersweet ways.
Exhibit A: Kathryn Rose moved to Florida yesterday.
Kitty and I have known each other since nineteen-ninety-I-can't-even-remember. She has been a constant, faithful friend through middle school & high school, when I moved away to college, when I moved away to Africa, when I moved back to the US, when I moved into the room across the hall.
Now Kitty has moved away to Florida, and although she's left behind reminders of her presence (read: Fluffy the cat, who sleeps next to me even when it's 95 degrees upstairs), it is my turn to be a friend-from-afar, as Kitty has been to me since we met.
My favorite memories will always be...
the weekend she and Ashley came to visit me at Wheaton in the fall of 2006,
Heather's bachelorette party summer 2009,
the birthday party she and Ashley planned for me last summer ("Raise your hand...")
and of course, the past 4 months of adventures living with her and Ash in the best townhouse in the world, including broken A/C upstairs and mice on the kitchen counters.
Also of note would be the number of times Kathryn has dressed me (often in her own clothes), like this rockin' outfit of hers I wore on the most important night of my life:
Kitty, you are so courageous. God will go before you, behind you, and with you. I pray your transition from Minnesota to Sarasota is smooth sailing, friend. I love you tons, miss you already, and plan to make a visit when the weather here is crappy!
Exhibit A: Kathryn Rose moved to Florida yesterday.
Kitty and I have known each other since nineteen-ninety-I-can't-even-remember. She has been a constant, faithful friend through middle school & high school, when I moved away to college, when I moved away to Africa, when I moved back to the US, when I moved into the room across the hall.
Now Kitty has moved away to Florida, and although she's left behind reminders of her presence (read: Fluffy the cat, who sleeps next to me even when it's 95 degrees upstairs), it is my turn to be a friend-from-afar, as Kitty has been to me since we met.
My favorite memories will always be...
the weekend she and Ashley came to visit me at Wheaton in the fall of 2006,
Heather's bachelorette party summer 2009,
the birthday party she and Ashley planned for me last summer ("Raise your hand...")
and of course, the past 4 months of adventures living with her and Ash in the best townhouse in the world, including broken A/C upstairs and mice on the kitchen counters.
Also of note would be the number of times Kathryn has dressed me (often in her own clothes), like this rockin' outfit of hers I wore on the most important night of my life:
Kitty, you are so courageous. God will go before you, behind you, and with you. I pray your transition from Minnesota to Sarasota is smooth sailing, friend. I love you tons, miss you already, and plan to make a visit when the weather here is crappy!
5.24.2011
on making decisions
This whole wedding planning thing has taught me a couple things about myself and the way I make decisions:
1. I am indecisive (this I knew previously).
2. I try to please others (this I also knew).
3. I am dispassionate about a great many little things.
4. I do not fit the "typical bride" mold.
As it turns out, the little details don't captivate me. I don't really care about specific kinds of flowers, as long as they're fall colors. I don't really care what color shoes my bridesmaids wear, as long as they're comfortable. I don't get super specific with centerpieces, or bent out of shape about cake.
Can we all just acknowledge that October 14th will be an incredibly special day, not because of the details, but because of the occasion itself? Yes, there will be a few very unique touches to this wedding and reception, but what's more important is that everyone we love will be together and we will all be joyful.
I have a feeling that as we all keep our attention fixed on the joy of the day, the details will fall into place.
And it will be great.
It just may be exactly what we expect: the best day of our lives.
1. I am indecisive (this I knew previously).
2. I try to please others (this I also knew).
3. I am dispassionate about a great many little things.
4. I do not fit the "typical bride" mold.
As it turns out, the little details don't captivate me. I don't really care about specific kinds of flowers, as long as they're fall colors. I don't really care what color shoes my bridesmaids wear, as long as they're comfortable. I don't get super specific with centerpieces, or bent out of shape about cake.
Can we all just acknowledge that October 14th will be an incredibly special day, not because of the details, but because of the occasion itself? Yes, there will be a few very unique touches to this wedding and reception, but what's more important is that everyone we love will be together and we will all be joyful.
I have a feeling that as we all keep our attention fixed on the joy of the day, the details will fall into place.
And it will be great.
It just may be exactly what we expect: the best day of our lives.
5.17.2011
on Day 151
I'll whisper this very quietly so as not to disturb anyone:
Sometimes I forget my wedding is in 5 months.
Don't mistake me: I remember every single day that I'm marrying the love of my life. It's just that sometimes, when people ask me about wedding details, I stumble a bit and then my brain says, "Oh, that's right! You're having a wedding in October!"
And you know what? I think that's okay.
I think it's okay that I anticipate the day when I will just be married to Jon more than the day I actually get married to Jon. Does that make sense?
I have it on good authority (namely, the opinions of the godly women I'm surrounded by) that it is beneficial that my priorities have fallen in this order. It's when women spend too much time preparing for the wedding and not enough time preparing for the marriage that couples get into trouble, or so they tell me.
In the meantime, I'll keep looking to my sweet, strong mother to negotiate contracts and keep details in check and remind me of timelines. But I'll forgive myself for forgetting that my wedding is in 150 days because I am too caught up in the wonder of Days 151 and following.
I might need you, my dear friends, to give me a little extra grace, too, okay? Thanks a million.
Sometimes I forget my wedding is in 5 months.
Don't mistake me: I remember every single day that I'm marrying the love of my life. It's just that sometimes, when people ask me about wedding details, I stumble a bit and then my brain says, "Oh, that's right! You're having a wedding in October!"
And you know what? I think that's okay.
I think it's okay that I anticipate the day when I will just be married to Jon more than the day I actually get married to Jon. Does that make sense?
I have it on good authority (namely, the opinions of the godly women I'm surrounded by) that it is beneficial that my priorities have fallen in this order. It's when women spend too much time preparing for the wedding and not enough time preparing for the marriage that couples get into trouble, or so they tell me.
In the meantime, I'll keep looking to my sweet, strong mother to negotiate contracts and keep details in check and remind me of timelines. But I'll forgive myself for forgetting that my wedding is in 150 days because I am too caught up in the wonder of Days 151 and following.
I might need you, my dear friends, to give me a little extra grace, too, okay? Thanks a million.
4.26.2011
royal wedding vs. mywedding.com
Type in the phrase "royal wedding" in Google. I dare you.
You'll get 45.9 million results, about 26,700 news articles, and the official Google result at the top: The Royal Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton / April 29, 2011 at 5:00am CT, plus a link to the official Royal Wedding website: http://www.officialroyalwedding2011.org/ (.org?! Really, Royal Family? Really?!)
And if you redirect your browser to mywedding.com and search for a couple (I'll give you a hint: type in "Maggie Thomas" or "Jon Keller." But don't type "Maggie Keller." Not yet.), you'll get a couple results, but there at the bottom, you'll find the listing: Maggie Thomas, Jon Keller, October 14, 2011 plus a link to the official Non-Royal Wedding Website: http://www.mywedding.com/jonandmaggiegetmarried
We're still adding to it and updating it. But there are some fun stories, photos, local attractions, events, and even a place for you to suggest reception music. Enjoy!
You'll get 45.9 million results, about 26,700 news articles, and the official Google result at the top: The Royal Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton / April 29, 2011 at 5:00am CT, plus a link to the official Royal Wedding website: http://www.officialroyalwedding2011.org/ (.org?! Really, Royal Family? Really?!)
And if you redirect your browser to mywedding.com and search for a couple (I'll give you a hint: type in "Maggie Thomas" or "Jon Keller." But don't type "Maggie Keller." Not yet.), you'll get a couple results, but there at the bottom, you'll find the listing: Maggie Thomas, Jon Keller, October 14, 2011 plus a link to the official Non-Royal Wedding Website: http://www.mywedding.com/jonandmaggiegetmarried
We're still adding to it and updating it. But there are some fun stories, photos, local attractions, events, and even a place for you to suggest reception music. Enjoy!
4.18.2011
on good friday
This is Holy Week. Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday, which in church tradition commemorates the Last Supper. Tomorrow is the remembrance of the first few Words of Institution: On the night he was betrayed... What must it have felt like to be betrayed by one of your closest friends? Can't say I've experienced too much betrayal in my day. What a sting, though. What a foretaste of the pain to come.
Good Friday is the day we focus on Jesus' suffering and sacrifice. Friday is the day that I best understand the phrase "darkest before the dawn." On Friday, there is no hope, only sadness. This Friday, I have the privilege of assisting with the Good Friday service at our church, the Table at CPC. I'll be reciting a couple monologues I helped write. But I have to be honest: it's not going to be a fun time.
Because on Good Friday, we also take a hard, pointed look at ourselves. Because 2,000 years ago, a group of Jesus' followers demanded his death, mere days after celebrating his arrival in Jerusalem. And the point is that if Jesus had been born in 1978, we would also be calling for his crucifixion the day after tomorrow.
So the monologues in the Good Friday service are read to afflict the comfortable. To disturb the secure. We're going to raise eyebrows and prickle skin and upset stomachs. We may even anger you. Because we're going to put audible words to the feelings some of us have hidden away in the darkened corners of our hearts. We're going to call Jesus the same names they called him 2,000 years ago, through the words and attitudes we use today.
And it's not to shock or surprise. It's not to elicit a reaction for theatricality's sake. It's not even to give you hope, because on Good Friday, hope is in short supply -- hope comes Sunday morning.
We're going to say out loud what most of us would never breathe, let alone allow ourselves to form concrete thoughts around. And in the ugliest of ways, we're going to hold up a mirror so we can see ourselves clearly. In doing so, I think we'll also show how that same ugliness that called for Christ's death 2,000 years ago is still hanging around in us today.
If you are looking for a place to worship and remember the sacrificial Lamb this weekend, please join me at The Table at CPC: 6901 Normandale Road, Edina.
Good Friday service: 8pm
Easter Sunday service: 6pm
Good Friday is the day we focus on Jesus' suffering and sacrifice. Friday is the day that I best understand the phrase "darkest before the dawn." On Friday, there is no hope, only sadness. This Friday, I have the privilege of assisting with the Good Friday service at our church, the Table at CPC. I'll be reciting a couple monologues I helped write. But I have to be honest: it's not going to be a fun time.
Because on Good Friday, we also take a hard, pointed look at ourselves. Because 2,000 years ago, a group of Jesus' followers demanded his death, mere days after celebrating his arrival in Jerusalem. And the point is that if Jesus had been born in 1978, we would also be calling for his crucifixion the day after tomorrow.
So the monologues in the Good Friday service are read to afflict the comfortable. To disturb the secure. We're going to raise eyebrows and prickle skin and upset stomachs. We may even anger you. Because we're going to put audible words to the feelings some of us have hidden away in the darkened corners of our hearts. We're going to call Jesus the same names they called him 2,000 years ago, through the words and attitudes we use today.
And it's not to shock or surprise. It's not to elicit a reaction for theatricality's sake. It's not even to give you hope, because on Good Friday, hope is in short supply -- hope comes Sunday morning.
We're going to say out loud what most of us would never breathe, let alone allow ourselves to form concrete thoughts around. And in the ugliest of ways, we're going to hold up a mirror so we can see ourselves clearly. In doing so, I think we'll also show how that same ugliness that called for Christ's death 2,000 years ago is still hanging around in us today.
If you are looking for a place to worship and remember the sacrificial Lamb this weekend, please join me at The Table at CPC: 6901 Normandale Road, Edina.
Good Friday service: 8pm
Easter Sunday service: 6pm
4.10.2011
on feeling real
So much of the past week has been a blur: of activity, of celebration, of sharing our news. I remain thankful for our friends and loved ones who are a sure source of joy.
That floaty feeling, though? That stayed around a while. Even though this past week of work was busy, I was still mostly being carried around on a big cloud of happy. It didn't feel real - too fairytale, too perfect (is there such a thing?).
Without giving too much away, though, I went dress shopping yesterday with my mom and future mom-in-law. And boy, if it didn't feel real when I put on that first white dress and caught my reflection in all those mirrors. I felt, I think for the first time, like a woman shopping for her wedding dress instead of a little girl playing dress-up.
This is really happening. I'm getting married. I have a fiance, and he is a gift.
I am so blessed.
That floaty feeling, though? That stayed around a while. Even though this past week of work was busy, I was still mostly being carried around on a big cloud of happy. It didn't feel real - too fairytale, too perfect (is there such a thing?).
Without giving too much away, though, I went dress shopping yesterday with my mom and future mom-in-law. And boy, if it didn't feel real when I put on that first white dress and caught my reflection in all those mirrors. I felt, I think for the first time, like a woman shopping for her wedding dress instead of a little girl playing dress-up.
This is really happening. I'm getting married. I have a fiance, and he is a gift.
I am so blessed.
4.08.2011
we fell in love and we're getting married, cont.
If you're just joining us, you should first read Parts I & II of this story. I'm very excited to have a terrific guest blogger join me: my handsome fiancé, Jonathan Keller.
Recap: We're on the 95th floor of the Hancock Center in Chicago. Maggie still hasn't figured out what's going on, and Jon is getting tense--it's time to ask a question!
Part III: The Proposal
On the other side of the lounge, Jon and I moved around tables of other seated parties, trying to get a good look at the lake and city lights. Standing near the back corner, Jon put his arm around me and thanked me for coming to Chicago to spend time with his friends. I still thought he was just being sweet, and I pointed out that his friends were becoming mine as well. I hadn’t really planned a speech. I needed to bring up the subject of, you know, asking Maggie to spend the rest of her life with me. Thankfully, she gave me a window by mentioning my friends.
Then Jon told me he had ulterior motives for inviting me to Chicago this weekend.
And suddenly, I knew. For sure and for certain, I knew.
He said he loved getting to know me the past 6 months, and in fact, he loved me! He told me he had invited our friends to join us this weekend. I thought, Oh they couldn’t make it, but that’s sweet he invited them! I named them one by one—they were waiting one floor below us! He told me we were here because he had a question to ask me. My eyes grew big, and I whispered, “Nooooo!” Jon grinned and said, “Oh, yes.”
Which is roughly when my brain detached from my body. Jon may have to correct the following details, because everything got a bit fuzzy for me. I was a little worried: if you know Maggie, she faints easily, and she hadn’t eaten much all day. Plus she had mono!
It was a bit surreal for me as well. This was a moment I had been waiting for my whole life. Perhaps movies or books had convinced me that time would slow down, that music would start playing, that this moment would somehow be more real. In reality it was a moment that passed like any other. Yet the joy in Maggie’s eyes and the relief in my heart were quite palpable. It was a moment that was very full. I wish I could have slowed it down to analyze it and find out how I felt about it, but all I could do was act.
He drew back, got down on one knee, and held a white ring box in his hand. From over my shoulder I heard a lady say, “Oh my gosh, he’s proposing!” Mercifully, Jon cut right to the chase: “Margaret Emma, will you marry me?”
To be honest, I was caught off guard. I had dreamed of this moment, wished it to happen, and even thought about what I would say. I wanted to be eloquent, gracious, ready with the perfect acceptance. Something like: “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” or “Yes. Yes today, yes tomorrow and the day after, yes every day for the rest of our lives.” I wanted the perfect response...that's the actress in me! Just in case you didn’t know: I’m going to marry a movie star!
I think I said 4 words: I, love, you, yes. Super eloquent. I was just glad she didn’t faint.
In whatever order my words came out, Jon understood what I meant. I leaned down, took the ring box, pulled him to his feet, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him real good. I asked him to put the ring on my finger, and as he did so, he explained—again, because I missed it the first time—that our friends were, indeed, waiting downstairs. “They’re all here,” Jon repeated, “Jake, Spencer & Marj, Laura, Amanda & Kyle, Dan, Drew & Alison, and Claire & Tyler sent a letter.” And that’s when I became more or less absurdly emotional.
Her tears started to swell earlier than this, but they definitely started flowing when she realized that all of these friends were here to celebrate with us. It took a while for it to sink in for me. I’m apparently not one of those people who gets flooded with relief. After she said yes, my body wasn’t ready to completely relax, but at least the tension wasn’t building anymore!
Remember back in Part I, when we explained how our community has been a foundation for us? They have been crucial in the development of our relationship – they introduced us! Both Jon and I were made for community: we thrive in it, prioritize it, and are blessed by it. Having our friends and loved ones there to celebrate made the difference between the perfect night and the best night of our lives. It moved me to tears that our friends loved us so much. This is how we roll.
Part IV: The Party
After I had a chance to stare at the bling on my finger (oh, it’s definitely bling), giggle ridiculously, and check with Jon to make sure I’d actually said yes out loud, we made our way downstairs to the welcoming surprise party. Hugs all around!
Dan had been stealthily wandering around upstairs with Spencer and Marj’s camera and a massive lens. Unfortunately, he was unaware of the ring box/wallet dilemma, so he wasn’t checking the area where we were. After we came back downstairs and everyone congratulated us, people started asking, “Where’s Dan?” He eventually found his way downstairs, too, but feigned annoyance: “Where WERE you guys?”
Dinner at the Signature Room was fantastic. Obviously, there were the lights of the city, Lake Michigan, and an elegant ambiance. In addition, we had spectacular wait-service although they were a little surprised that someone my age would order what we did: between the 11 of us, I made sure we ordered every appetizer, most of the entrees, and most of the desserts on the menu!
Most importantly, we had a chance to celebrate around the table. In lot of ways we were breaking bread like the disciples did with Jesus. Being able to enjoy a wonderful meal with close friends was a taste of heaven. For many of us, it was the best meal of our lives. So far.
During dinner, the calls and texts started flying. Jon texted practically everyone he knew to let them know I’d said yes. He even included a directive not to post anything on Facebook until we’d had a chance to tell our grandparents (oh, proposals in the 21st century!). I called my college roommates from the bathroom; we’d celebrated our graduation at the Signature Room nearly two years ago. Jon and I were anxious to share the good news! Over champagne toasts, dessert fireworks, and much laughter, our group celebrated life, love, and the God who makes it all possible.
We left the Hancock Center for the W Lakeshore to continue the party with more city views. A limo driver happened to be sitting outside the Hancock and offered to drive us!
Several people in our group had never been in a limo—Jon included—and this unexpected treat made the night all the more memorable! $5 a person...how could I say no?
At the W, we visited the Sky Lounge and the bouncers even ushered us into Altitude, the rotating rooftop banquet room with panoramic views of the city. We were the only ones in there, too, so it was pretty spectacular! I love the W, whether it’s Hollywood, Silicon Valley, Manhattan, Foshay Tower, City Center, or Lakeshore...they’ve always treated me well.
We wrapped up the night at The Living Room, the W’s main-floor lounge. I was fading fast, and we had a flight to catch the next morning. Our party dispersed and Jon and I caught the Metra back to Hyde Park. We were so absorbed in talking and dreaming about our wedding, we nearly missed our stop! Jon yelled, “This is it!” and dashed out of the train car, while I sprinted to catch up. I figured I could hold the door while Maggie caught up. I also didn’t want to be walking around an unfamiliar part of South Chicago at 1:30 AM on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning, we enjoyed brunch at Medici with Dan, Drew and Alison before our flight back to Minneapolis. Of the 36 hours we spent in Chicago, the final 16 as an engaged couple were the most surreal, the most full, the most rewarding. In the words of Rebecca Black, “We, we, we so excited!”
We are grateful to Dan and Janelle, Drew and Alison, Spencer and Marie, Kyle and Amanda, Laura, and Jake for celebrating with us in person and to the countless others who celebrated with us in spirit. We are grateful to our family for their support and blessing. We are grateful to our friends for praying for us. And we’re grateful to you all, for reading our story and being a part of our journey toward becoming one. The weekend went perfectly, and that is only by the grace of God. Thank you very much for your support and prayers.
And if you thought this story was good...
We are eagerly anticipating our wedding the evening of October 14th. We guarantee it will be the hottest party of the year, and we know it will be the new best night of our lives!
Special thanks and photo credit: Spencer and Marjorie Howell
Recap: We're on the 95th floor of the Hancock Center in Chicago. Maggie still hasn't figured out what's going on, and Jon is getting tense--it's time to ask a question!
Part III: The Proposal
On the other side of the lounge, Jon and I moved around tables of other seated parties, trying to get a good look at the lake and city lights. Standing near the back corner, Jon put his arm around me and thanked me for coming to Chicago to spend time with his friends. I still thought he was just being sweet, and I pointed out that his friends were becoming mine as well. I hadn’t really planned a speech. I needed to bring up the subject of, you know, asking Maggie to spend the rest of her life with me. Thankfully, she gave me a window by mentioning my friends.
Then Jon told me he had ulterior motives for inviting me to Chicago this weekend.
And suddenly, I knew. For sure and for certain, I knew.
He said he loved getting to know me the past 6 months, and in fact, he loved me! He told me he had invited our friends to join us this weekend. I thought, Oh they couldn’t make it, but that’s sweet he invited them! I named them one by one—they were waiting one floor below us! He told me we were here because he had a question to ask me. My eyes grew big, and I whispered, “Nooooo!” Jon grinned and said, “Oh, yes.”
Which is roughly when my brain detached from my body. Jon may have to correct the following details, because everything got a bit fuzzy for me. I was a little worried: if you know Maggie, she faints easily, and she hadn’t eaten much all day. Plus she had mono!It was a bit surreal for me as well. This was a moment I had been waiting for my whole life. Perhaps movies or books had convinced me that time would slow down, that music would start playing, that this moment would somehow be more real. In reality it was a moment that passed like any other. Yet the joy in Maggie’s eyes and the relief in my heart were quite palpable. It was a moment that was very full. I wish I could have slowed it down to analyze it and find out how I felt about it, but all I could do was act.
He drew back, got down on one knee, and held a white ring box in his hand. From over my shoulder I heard a lady say, “Oh my gosh, he’s proposing!” Mercifully, Jon cut right to the chase: “Margaret Emma, will you marry me?”
To be honest, I was caught off guard. I had dreamed of this moment, wished it to happen, and even thought about what I would say. I wanted to be eloquent, gracious, ready with the perfect acceptance. Something like: “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” or “Yes. Yes today, yes tomorrow and the day after, yes every day for the rest of our lives.” I wanted the perfect response...that's the actress in me! Just in case you didn’t know: I’m going to marry a movie star!
I think I said 4 words: I, love, you, yes. Super eloquent. I was just glad she didn’t faint.
In whatever order my words came out, Jon understood what I meant. I leaned down, took the ring box, pulled him to his feet, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him real good. I asked him to put the ring on my finger, and as he did so, he explained—again, because I missed it the first time—that our friends were, indeed, waiting downstairs. “They’re all here,” Jon repeated, “Jake, Spencer & Marj, Laura, Amanda & Kyle, Dan, Drew & Alison, and Claire & Tyler sent a letter.” And that’s when I became more or less absurdly emotional. Her tears started to swell earlier than this, but they definitely started flowing when she realized that all of these friends were here to celebrate with us. It took a while for it to sink in for me. I’m apparently not one of those people who gets flooded with relief. After she said yes, my body wasn’t ready to completely relax, but at least the tension wasn’t building anymore!
Remember back in Part I, when we explained how our community has been a foundation for us? They have been crucial in the development of our relationship – they introduced us! Both Jon and I were made for community: we thrive in it, prioritize it, and are blessed by it. Having our friends and loved ones there to celebrate made the difference between the perfect night and the best night of our lives. It moved me to tears that our friends loved us so much. This is how we roll.
Part IV: The Party
After I had a chance to stare at the bling on my finger (oh, it’s definitely bling), giggle ridiculously, and check with Jon to make sure I’d actually said yes out loud, we made our way downstairs to the welcoming surprise party. Hugs all around!
Dan had been stealthily wandering around upstairs with Spencer and Marj’s camera and a massive lens. Unfortunately, he was unaware of the ring box/wallet dilemma, so he wasn’t checking the area where we were. After we came back downstairs and everyone congratulated us, people started asking, “Where’s Dan?” He eventually found his way downstairs, too, but feigned annoyance: “Where WERE you guys?” Dinner at the Signature Room was fantastic. Obviously, there were the lights of the city, Lake Michigan, and an elegant ambiance. In addition, we had spectacular wait-service although they were a little surprised that someone my age would order what we did: between the 11 of us, I made sure we ordered every appetizer, most of the entrees, and most of the desserts on the menu!
Most importantly, we had a chance to celebrate around the table. In lot of ways we were breaking bread like the disciples did with Jesus. Being able to enjoy a wonderful meal with close friends was a taste of heaven. For many of us, it was the best meal of our lives. So far. During dinner, the calls and texts started flying. Jon texted practically everyone he knew to let them know I’d said yes. He even included a directive not to post anything on Facebook until we’d had a chance to tell our grandparents (oh, proposals in the 21st century!). I called my college roommates from the bathroom; we’d celebrated our graduation at the Signature Room nearly two years ago. Jon and I were anxious to share the good news! Over champagne toasts, dessert fireworks, and much laughter, our group celebrated life, love, and the God who makes it all possible.
We left the Hancock Center for the W Lakeshore to continue the party with more city views. A limo driver happened to be sitting outside the Hancock and offered to drive us! 
Several people in our group had never been in a limo—Jon included—and this unexpected treat made the night all the more memorable! $5 a person...how could I say no?
At the W, we visited the Sky Lounge and the bouncers even ushered us into Altitude, the rotating rooftop banquet room with panoramic views of the city. We were the only ones in there, too, so it was pretty spectacular! I love the W, whether it’s Hollywood, Silicon Valley, Manhattan, Foshay Tower, City Center, or Lakeshore...they’ve always treated me well.
We wrapped up the night at The Living Room, the W’s main-floor lounge. I was fading fast, and we had a flight to catch the next morning. Our party dispersed and Jon and I caught the Metra back to Hyde Park. We were so absorbed in talking and dreaming about our wedding, we nearly missed our stop! Jon yelled, “This is it!” and dashed out of the train car, while I sprinted to catch up. I figured I could hold the door while Maggie caught up. I also didn’t want to be walking around an unfamiliar part of South Chicago at 1:30 AM on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning, we enjoyed brunch at Medici with Dan, Drew and Alison before our flight back to Minneapolis. Of the 36 hours we spent in Chicago, the final 16 as an engaged couple were the most surreal, the most full, the most rewarding. In the words of Rebecca Black, “We, we, we so excited!”
We are grateful to Dan and Janelle, Drew and Alison, Spencer and Marie, Kyle and Amanda, Laura, and Jake for celebrating with us in person and to the countless others who celebrated with us in spirit. We are grateful to our family for their support and blessing. We are grateful to our friends for praying for us. And we’re grateful to you all, for reading our story and being a part of our journey toward becoming one. The weekend went perfectly, and that is only by the grace of God. Thank you very much for your support and prayers.
And if you thought this story was good...
We are eagerly anticipating our wedding the evening of October 14th. We guarantee it will be the hottest party of the year, and we know it will be the new best night of our lives!
Special thanks and photo credit: Spencer and Marjorie Howell
4.06.2011
basically, we fell in love and we're getting married
Despite the fact that I've always dreamed about writing this story, I can't do it alone. I’ve asked Jonathan McCrary Keller--guest blogger extraordinaire and my fiance--to help me tell what has become very much our story. I’m thrilled to be able to help out. I've never blogged before so bear with me.
We have attempted to be purposefully detailed for the sake of faraway friends and family who aren't able to hear us tell the story in person. Today's installment is the first half...stay tuned for the part where he asks me a question and [spoiler alert:] I say yes!
When I met Jon at a dinner party last August, I had no idea that the tuxedo-clad co-host with a penchant for bow ties and marathon running would win my heart so completely, so quickly. When I met Mags at Filet Friday Formal on Saturday, I knew immediately that I wanted to spend more time with her.
Turns out, when you know, you just know. And we knew. Very quickly, we knew. I almost bought an engagement ring within a few weeks of dating Maggie. Thankfully, I waited and was able to get something she really liked.
Part II: The Set-Up
In February, Jon’s friends Drew and Alison invited us to the Chicago Cubs' season opener on April 2nd. So we made plans and bought airplane tickets. And all the while, I thought I was going for baseball. Technically, Drew bought the tickets and it was Drew's idea. I just paid for it. :) The entire engagement planning process, I asked the help of numerous friends and family. I also prayed a lot. Our friends and family prayed even more.
Then, two Sundays ago, I discovered I had mono. I took the week off from work to rest. And suddenly, everyone wanted to know if I was still going to Chicago. Wow, I thought, this baseball game is a bigger deal than I thought! I tried to downplay her needing to go to Chicago; I even suggested that she might not have to go...all the while hoping and praying desperately that she would still be able to.
So we went to Chicago. Not really for baseball. But I didn't know that.
There were a couple hiccups on Friday night: things I noticed and things I completely missed. Jon was very late picking me up for our flight, and I was nearly frantic! I kept pacing the house, getting more and more upset that he was so late! I showed up at her place about 55 minutes before our flight left...I had to pick up the ring!
Later that night, in the cab leaving Midway airport, I tried to make a joke about Jon’s intelligence which completely backfired, thus proving that I am not the funny one and should just stop trying altogether. On the way to Hyde Park, Maggie freaked me out. She asked about dinner on Saturday and I said, "All I know is that we have to wear nice clothes." Maggie quipped, "That's not all you know." I almost had a heart attack...did she know???? Had one of the 50-plus people I told spilled the beans??? No, she was just joking. I HATE not being fully open or honest with someone—even if it is for a surprise.
We stayed with Drew and Alison in Hyde Park, and all of us met up with Dan, Jon's friend from high school for the game Saturday. On the way, I asked Jon about dinner plans, since he had promised me a fancy dinner in the city. Jon acted like he couldn’t remember and asked Dan, who casually mentioned he made a reservation at the Signature Room at the top of the Hancock Center. Jon alternately feigned surprise and delight as Dan described the lakefront and city views and as I pointed out that we'd probably be there just before sunset. (That, of course, like everything else, was planned.)
The Signature Room was originally Dan's idea. When I was brainstorming places to propose in Chicago, this had been the one Dan recommended most highly. I made a reservation at 7:30pm, but told Dan to act like it was for 7pm; that way we would have some wiggle room. On the train, I did my best to pretend that I had no idea where we were going. Drew and Alison had to turn away to hide their smiles.
The Cubbies certainly didn't disappoint: they managed a comeback in the bottom of the 8th to win 5-3 over the Pirates. Jon was excited, but I assumed it was because of the baseball game. It was a great omen for the rest of the night.
Go, Cubs, go!
So happy to be back in Chicago!
Drew and Alison like Chicago, too!
After the game, we made our way back toward Hyde Park. The whole mono thing had worn me out, and I fell asleep a little on the Red Line. And again at Dan and Janelle’s apartment. But never mind that; it’s so not important in the grand scheme. Maggie ate cereal in the morning and peanuts at the baseball game. I worried about her strength, but was also unsure how to remedy the situation; I was concerned that she might not be able to stay awake for dinner!
We made a stop at the University of Chicago, where Dan delighted us all with a comedic tour of campus: pointing out the purposes of various buildings, telling us where to get the best coffee, and providing general commentary. My favorite moment was while we wandered around in the afternoon sun, I caught Jon looking at me. I squeezed his hand and smiled, reveling in how blessed I am to have him in my life. My anticipation was building.
And still, I didn’t know. I hoped this was true.
Back at Drew and Alison’s, we all got ready for dinner as fast as humanly possible. It’s quite likely I set a personal record. I felt rushed and flustered—I even did my makeup in the car—and it kept me from noticing Jon, a complete wreck in the front seat (poor guy)!
Of course, I was unaware that 6 of our Minnesota friends had driven down to surprise me at our engagement party. Jon, however was fully aware. We were running a bit late. I worried that people would get to the Hancock Center too early and that we would see everyone. I worried that we would see one of our friends walking on the street. I worried that Jake would pull up alongside us in the car. I considered ways to distract Maggie from a potential friend sighting and texted our friends to delay or stay hidden.
By the time we parked in the ramp, we were late for our reservation and I felt quite anxious. I sensed Jon was upset about it as well, as he grew very impatient that the ramp elevator stopped at every single floor. Still, I couldn’t understand why he had basically pushed me into the corner of the elevator.
I was panicked that one of our friends would be waiting on the other side of the elevator doors. I hoped at least I might see them first and have a chance of keeping Maggie from seeing them. Not only did we stop on the 8th floor, we were stuck there. The doors closed and we stayed...the doors opened and closed again...but we still stayed. On the 8th floor. Panic levels were quite high. Finally the elevator starting moving, right when I told people it would be all clear.
On the first floor of the Hancock Center, there was an elevator line spanning the length of the entire lobby. Jon stood there, BlackBerry in hand, muttering something about how we should be able to move to the front of the line. With a teasing smile, I reminded Jon that he can’t achieve priority status for everything; Jon was not amused.
We were sitting ducks! I had no idea where our friends were and had already told them it would be all clear! I texted people to let them know we were stuck in line, but I had no idea if everyone had their phones or if they were checking them as obsessively as I checked mine. At that moment, an elevator attendant informed us that those with dinner reservations could come directly to the front of the line.
When we arrived on the 95th floor, we conveniently discovered that the reservation was actually for 7:30 (miracle of miracles!). Jon took my hand and led me up to the lounge to take in the sunset city views.
I thought I had it made. The sun was setting, we had detached from our friends, and given an excuse. We got upstairs and got in line for table in the lounge/bar area. We noted, however, that they were carding. I obviously had my ID, but the ring box was on top of my wallet! I tried to fish my wallet out of my pocket (if you know me, my wallet is not the slimmest!), but it was not happening. We needed to get out of line and fast! I looked around for another place we could go, but before I thought of anything, we were at the front of the line! I blurted out “I have to go to the bathroom!”, left the line, and took Maggie with me. I was only in the bathroom about 15 seconds, just long enough to take a deep breath, take out the ring to make sure it was there, and then go back out. We had to find a different place to do this! Also, if you know me: my hands were VERY sweaty at this point!
If you’re still with us, congrats! The next part is when it gets good, so check back tomorrow!
We have attempted to be purposefully detailed for the sake of faraway friends and family who aren't able to hear us tell the story in person. Today's installment is the first half...stay tuned for the part where he asks me a question and [spoiler alert:] I say yes!
Part I: The Beginning
In the beginning, God had this all planned out. He has orchestrated, directed, and guided us in this entire process. Also in the beginning was a terrific community of friends and loved ones. We have been rooted deeply in this group of believers and have been well-supported, well-loved, and well-grounded. We are grateful for their guidance and accountability.When I met Jon at a dinner party last August, I had no idea that the tuxedo-clad co-host with a penchant for bow ties and marathon running would win my heart so completely, so quickly. When I met Mags at Filet Friday Formal on Saturday, I knew immediately that I wanted to spend more time with her.
Turns out, when you know, you just know. And we knew. Very quickly, we knew. I almost bought an engagement ring within a few weeks of dating Maggie. Thankfully, I waited and was able to get something she really liked.
Part II: The Set-Up
In February, Jon’s friends Drew and Alison invited us to the Chicago Cubs' season opener on April 2nd. So we made plans and bought airplane tickets. And all the while, I thought I was going for baseball. Technically, Drew bought the tickets and it was Drew's idea. I just paid for it. :) The entire engagement planning process, I asked the help of numerous friends and family. I also prayed a lot. Our friends and family prayed even more.
Then, two Sundays ago, I discovered I had mono. I took the week off from work to rest. And suddenly, everyone wanted to know if I was still going to Chicago. Wow, I thought, this baseball game is a bigger deal than I thought! I tried to downplay her needing to go to Chicago; I even suggested that she might not have to go...all the while hoping and praying desperately that she would still be able to.
So we went to Chicago. Not really for baseball. But I didn't know that.
There were a couple hiccups on Friday night: things I noticed and things I completely missed. Jon was very late picking me up for our flight, and I was nearly frantic! I kept pacing the house, getting more and more upset that he was so late! I showed up at her place about 55 minutes before our flight left...I had to pick up the ring!
Later that night, in the cab leaving Midway airport, I tried to make a joke about Jon’s intelligence which completely backfired, thus proving that I am not the funny one and should just stop trying altogether. On the way to Hyde Park, Maggie freaked me out. She asked about dinner on Saturday and I said, "All I know is that we have to wear nice clothes." Maggie quipped, "That's not all you know." I almost had a heart attack...did she know???? Had one of the 50-plus people I told spilled the beans??? No, she was just joking. I HATE not being fully open or honest with someone—even if it is for a surprise.
We stayed with Drew and Alison in Hyde Park, and all of us met up with Dan, Jon's friend from high school for the game Saturday. On the way, I asked Jon about dinner plans, since he had promised me a fancy dinner in the city. Jon acted like he couldn’t remember and asked Dan, who casually mentioned he made a reservation at the Signature Room at the top of the Hancock Center. Jon alternately feigned surprise and delight as Dan described the lakefront and city views and as I pointed out that we'd probably be there just before sunset. (That, of course, like everything else, was planned.)
The Signature Room was originally Dan's idea. When I was brainstorming places to propose in Chicago, this had been the one Dan recommended most highly. I made a reservation at 7:30pm, but told Dan to act like it was for 7pm; that way we would have some wiggle room. On the train, I did my best to pretend that I had no idea where we were going. Drew and Alison had to turn away to hide their smiles.
The Cubbies certainly didn't disappoint: they managed a comeback in the bottom of the 8th to win 5-3 over the Pirates. Jon was excited, but I assumed it was because of the baseball game. It was a great omen for the rest of the night.
Go, Cubs, go!
So happy to be back in Chicago!
Drew and Alison like Chicago, too!We made a stop at the University of Chicago, where Dan delighted us all with a comedic tour of campus: pointing out the purposes of various buildings, telling us where to get the best coffee, and providing general commentary. My favorite moment was while we wandered around in the afternoon sun, I caught Jon looking at me. I squeezed his hand and smiled, reveling in how blessed I am to have him in my life. My anticipation was building.
And still, I didn’t know. I hoped this was true.
Back at Drew and Alison’s, we all got ready for dinner as fast as humanly possible. It’s quite likely I set a personal record. I felt rushed and flustered—I even did my makeup in the car—and it kept me from noticing Jon, a complete wreck in the front seat (poor guy)!
Of course, I was unaware that 6 of our Minnesota friends had driven down to surprise me at our engagement party. Jon, however was fully aware. We were running a bit late. I worried that people would get to the Hancock Center too early and that we would see everyone. I worried that we would see one of our friends walking on the street. I worried that Jake would pull up alongside us in the car. I considered ways to distract Maggie from a potential friend sighting and texted our friends to delay or stay hidden.
By the time we parked in the ramp, we were late for our reservation and I felt quite anxious. I sensed Jon was upset about it as well, as he grew very impatient that the ramp elevator stopped at every single floor. Still, I couldn’t understand why he had basically pushed me into the corner of the elevator.
I was panicked that one of our friends would be waiting on the other side of the elevator doors. I hoped at least I might see them first and have a chance of keeping Maggie from seeing them. Not only did we stop on the 8th floor, we were stuck there. The doors closed and we stayed...the doors opened and closed again...but we still stayed. On the 8th floor. Panic levels were quite high. Finally the elevator starting moving, right when I told people it would be all clear.
On the first floor of the Hancock Center, there was an elevator line spanning the length of the entire lobby. Jon stood there, BlackBerry in hand, muttering something about how we should be able to move to the front of the line. With a teasing smile, I reminded Jon that he can’t achieve priority status for everything; Jon was not amused.
We were sitting ducks! I had no idea where our friends were and had already told them it would be all clear! I texted people to let them know we were stuck in line, but I had no idea if everyone had their phones or if they were checking them as obsessively as I checked mine. At that moment, an elevator attendant informed us that those with dinner reservations could come directly to the front of the line.
When we arrived on the 95th floor, we conveniently discovered that the reservation was actually for 7:30 (miracle of miracles!). Jon took my hand and led me up to the lounge to take in the sunset city views.
I thought I had it made. The sun was setting, we had detached from our friends, and given an excuse. We got upstairs and got in line for table in the lounge/bar area. We noted, however, that they were carding. I obviously had my ID, but the ring box was on top of my wallet! I tried to fish my wallet out of my pocket (if you know me, my wallet is not the slimmest!), but it was not happening. We needed to get out of line and fast! I looked around for another place we could go, but before I thought of anything, we were at the front of the line! I blurted out “I have to go to the bathroom!”, left the line, and took Maggie with me. I was only in the bathroom about 15 seconds, just long enough to take a deep breath, take out the ring to make sure it was there, and then go back out. We had to find a different place to do this! Also, if you know me: my hands were VERY sweaty at this point!
If you’re still with us, congrats! The next part is when it gets good, so check back tomorrow!
3.27.2011
on rest
I would like to posit the following:
When you do not make time for rest in your life, your body will eventually force you.
Here's to a week of rest, of working from home, of catching up, of healing.
Maybe I'll even find some headspace to write.
When you do not make time for rest in your life, your body will eventually force you.
Here's to a week of rest, of working from home, of catching up, of healing.
Maybe I'll even find some headspace to write.
3.07.2011
breastfeeding, lactivism, and backlash: an observation
Given the title, let's establish some immediate parameters:
1. I am not a mother. Yet.
2. I have no personal experience with breastfeeding aside from being breastfed as an infant.
3. I have lots of Mama friends. Tons of 'em. And even more Someday-Mama friends.
4. This post is not a discussion of whether breast is best. Do not mistake me. Read carefully. This post is an observation from an outsider.
If you are even remotely familiar with the newest generation of mothers via Facebook, mommy blogs, etc. you are likely aware of the discussions surrounding breastfeeding and its spin-off discussions: public breastfeeding, breastfeeding without a cover, posting photos of breastfeeding on Facebook, challenging society's perception of breastfeeding, etc.
These discussions rooted in the so-called lactivist movement are, indeed, groundbreaking. From my perspective, lactivism has made two notable accomplishments:
1. They've paved the way for a generation of Americans who are comfortable with breastfeeding.
2. They've alienated mothers who struggle with breastfeeding or have already given up on it.
My perspective has long been that reaction is never the best course of action. Regardless of the scenario, one's viewpoint is always best communicated when it is devoid of defensiveness. Being defensive leads to being argumentative leads to crazy talk. Just ask the Tea Party.
So it's not that I'm against the lactivist movement. I am against their delivery when it is defensive and harsh. I'm against their blog posts and articles calling formula-users "child abusers" and folks who are uncomfortable with breastfeeding "ignorant." If you're going to school an entire country in public breastfeeding etiquette, calling them ignorant is probably not the best place to start. I didn't say America doesn't need the education. I said calling them names makes them less receptive to it.
As for struggling mothers, I can only speculate here, but humor me. If I'm a new mom, perhaps lacking a supportive community or even a positive example of breastfeeding, intimidated by La Leche League, less than confident in my own ability, and trusting of my doctor's opinion, I'm probably not going to feel empowered by the in-your-face side of the lactivist movement; I'm probably going to feel attacked by it even if it is not directed at me. To borrow the phrasing of a dear Someday-Mama friend, lactivism's hardcore stance can be damaging to moms struggling with breastfeeding, despite the fact that pro-breastfeeding/anti-formula arguments are not generally aimed at them specifically.
Can we agree on this?: Breastfeeding is terrific for baby, for mama, for community. But breastfeeding does not work for every baby and every mama. Can we also agree that the type of lactivism we need more of is the kind where mamas who have worked through struggles share insight with mamas in the thick of it?
The kind where LLL chapters or online groups who provide loving support to new moms are circulated even more widely than angry articles or that'll-show-'em backlash.
The kind that will make resources available to mamas who, for whatever reason, have to stop breastfeeding.
The kind that extends grace to people who are unaware of the benefits of breastfeeding; the kind that does not belittle them for it.
The kind that rejoices in a God who made women's bodies for breastfeeding, celebrates the powerful connection between mother and child, and praises society's role in supporting that connection.
That's the kind of lactivism I can get on board with. You with me?
1. I am not a mother. Yet.
2. I have no personal experience with breastfeeding aside from being breastfed as an infant.
3. I have lots of Mama friends. Tons of 'em. And even more Someday-Mama friends.
4. This post is not a discussion of whether breast is best. Do not mistake me. Read carefully. This post is an observation from an outsider.
If you are even remotely familiar with the newest generation of mothers via Facebook, mommy blogs, etc. you are likely aware of the discussions surrounding breastfeeding and its spin-off discussions: public breastfeeding, breastfeeding without a cover, posting photos of breastfeeding on Facebook, challenging society's perception of breastfeeding, etc.
These discussions rooted in the so-called lactivist movement are, indeed, groundbreaking. From my perspective, lactivism has made two notable accomplishments:
1. They've paved the way for a generation of Americans who are comfortable with breastfeeding.
2. They've alienated mothers who struggle with breastfeeding or have already given up on it.
My perspective has long been that reaction is never the best course of action. Regardless of the scenario, one's viewpoint is always best communicated when it is devoid of defensiveness. Being defensive leads to being argumentative leads to crazy talk. Just ask the Tea Party.
So it's not that I'm against the lactivist movement. I am against their delivery when it is defensive and harsh. I'm against their blog posts and articles calling formula-users "child abusers" and folks who are uncomfortable with breastfeeding "ignorant." If you're going to school an entire country in public breastfeeding etiquette, calling them ignorant is probably not the best place to start. I didn't say America doesn't need the education. I said calling them names makes them less receptive to it.
As for struggling mothers, I can only speculate here, but humor me. If I'm a new mom, perhaps lacking a supportive community or even a positive example of breastfeeding, intimidated by La Leche League, less than confident in my own ability, and trusting of my doctor's opinion, I'm probably not going to feel empowered by the in-your-face side of the lactivist movement; I'm probably going to feel attacked by it even if it is not directed at me. To borrow the phrasing of a dear Someday-Mama friend, lactivism's hardcore stance can be damaging to moms struggling with breastfeeding, despite the fact that pro-breastfeeding/anti-formula arguments are not generally aimed at them specifically.
Can we agree on this?: Breastfeeding is terrific for baby, for mama, for community. But breastfeeding does not work for every baby and every mama. Can we also agree that the type of lactivism we need more of is the kind where mamas who have worked through struggles share insight with mamas in the thick of it?
The kind where LLL chapters or online groups who provide loving support to new moms are circulated even more widely than angry articles or that'll-show-'em backlash.
The kind that will make resources available to mamas who, for whatever reason, have to stop breastfeeding.
The kind that extends grace to people who are unaware of the benefits of breastfeeding; the kind that does not belittle them for it.
The kind that rejoices in a God who made women's bodies for breastfeeding, celebrates the powerful connection between mother and child, and praises society's role in supporting that connection.
That's the kind of lactivism I can get on board with. You with me?
3.06.2011
on being in D.C.
The last time I'd been in D.C. was ten years ago.
Ten years.
That's a long time ago. As in, pre-9/11 long time ago. As in, the last time I was in D.C., I was in 8th grade, had a penchant for graphic tees, and thought my blunt-cut bangs were the height of fashion. As it turns out, bold fringes are back in a big way. Ironic.
I was pretty excited to get back to D.C. in my adult body. To see things with adult eyes. To spend time with Jon, his sister, and his friends, who are all quickly becoming my friends, too. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't mind sharing.)
Recommended: renting bikes from Capital Bikeshare. We biked along the Rock Creek Park trail, around the monuments and the Mall.
We stopped in at the Air and Space Museum and the Museum of American History. We tried to see the White House but somebody was coming home, so it was blocked off. We cooked dinner all together, ate cupcakes, watched some Duke/UNC basketball, laughed at SNL, and went to Capitol Baptist Church Sunday morning.
That? That is real life with friends. Though not representative of everyday life nor sustainable in any sense, this weekend was a ton of quality time with quality people. I'm feeling extra blessed this morning.
P.S. Note the absence of graphic tees, FBI sweatshirts, and glasses. Growing up is awesome.
Ten years.
That's a long time ago. As in, pre-9/11 long time ago. As in, the last time I was in D.C., I was in 8th grade, had a penchant for graphic tees, and thought my blunt-cut bangs were the height of fashion. As it turns out, bold fringes are back in a big way. Ironic.
I was pretty excited to get back to D.C. in my adult body. To see things with adult eyes. To spend time with Jon, his sister, and his friends, who are all quickly becoming my friends, too. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't mind sharing.)
Recommended: renting bikes from Capital Bikeshare. We biked along the Rock Creek Park trail, around the monuments and the Mall.
We stopped in at the Air and Space Museum and the Museum of American History. We tried to see the White House but somebody was coming home, so it was blocked off. We cooked dinner all together, ate cupcakes, watched some Duke/UNC basketball, laughed at SNL, and went to Capitol Baptist Church Sunday morning.
That? That is real life with friends. Though not representative of everyday life nor sustainable in any sense, this weekend was a ton of quality time with quality people. I'm feeling extra blessed this morning.P.S. Note the absence of graphic tees, FBI sweatshirts, and glasses. Growing up is awesome.
3.03.2011
on what makes us adults
This will be brief. I really should be packing (this weekend: D.C.!).
It won't take long to steal someone else's words and post them here for our mutual benefit.
In the past six weeks, there have been a number of events that I would ordinarily classify as "adult things." A slew of things come to your mind when I say that, right? Things like divorce, job loss, unexpected death, miscarriage, terminal illness, foreclosure, infidelity, depression, existential crises, addictions, etc. etc.
I've seen so many of thosekinds of things occur in the lives of my friends and loved ones in the past six weeks, and frankly, it makes me want to throw my hands up and walk away. Following yet another tragic loss a few weeks ago, I asked Jon how we were even remotely old enough for all this. His response?
"This is how someone becomes old."
He's got a point. This is what makes us old. And wise. And tougher than the tough stuff life throws at us.
I just wish it was more of an easier process, and less of a trial by fire.
It won't take long to steal someone else's words and post them here for our mutual benefit.
In the past six weeks, there have been a number of events that I would ordinarily classify as "adult things." A slew of things come to your mind when I say that, right? Things like divorce, job loss, unexpected death, miscarriage, terminal illness, foreclosure, infidelity, depression, existential crises, addictions, etc. etc.
I've seen so many of those
"This is how someone becomes old."
He's got a point. This is what makes us old. And wise. And tougher than the tough stuff life throws at us.
I just wish it was more of an easier process, and less of a trial by fire.
2.15.2011
sneak peek
Just a teaser of my new room!
I would much rather show you the whole house in person, so please stop by!I'll make tea. We can sit by the fireplace and catch up on life.
2.14.2011
a different kind of love
So it's Valentine's Day today. Day of the commercialization of love. Day of red and white and pink. Day of glitter and hearts. I'm certainly not complaining; it does the heart good to be cheesy sometimes. The card I gave Jon may or may not have had a glittery muffin on the front. (Two guesses what that was about.) Right, so cheesy can be good.
But on this day of romance I'm reminded that there is a deeper, truer love. Love that is sacrificial, not self-serving. Love that is merciful, not antagonistic. Love that is holy. Love that is from God.
You know what reminded me of that kind of love? This Starbucks coffee cup (for real):
That's got LOVE written all over it.
My anthem today: You were made by God and for God.
But on this day of romance I'm reminded that there is a deeper, truer love. Love that is sacrificial, not self-serving. Love that is merciful, not antagonistic. Love that is holy. Love that is from God.
You know what reminded me of that kind of love? This Starbucks coffee cup (for real):
That's got LOVE written all over it.
My anthem today: You were made by God and for God.
2.13.2011
on moving out
This weekend, I moved out of my childhood home. As excited as I was, and as thrilled as I am, seeing the skeleton of the bedroom I once inhabited is nothing short of eerie.
There is a difference between leaving home to move to Africa and leaving home to move across town. In many ways, this is more difficult, because it's not just the place I've lived for the past 8 months, it's the place I've lived (on and off) for the past 23 years.
When I returned home from Nigeria with 3 suitcases, no job, and horrific culture shock leaking out everywhere, my loving family welcomed me back into the home I grew up in. The 4 of us haven't lived all together since 2005, so there were lots of things to get used to! What a blessing though, to have a safe place to land while I worked to get back on my feet (in all senses of the phrase). God has been good, and life has been rich - I now have the perfect job, a great church community, and terrific friends. What I thought was landing zone is really a launching pad!
Two of my oldest friends had a beautiful townhouse and roommate getting married, and I moved in yesterday, thanks in large part to my brother (and his biceps). It's a beautiful place in a really convenient location. And by convenient, I mean that there is a Chipotle, Noodles, Starbucks, Potbelly, and Thai restaurant within one block. ONE BLOCK. This could be dangerous.
I promise pictures, but not until after I get my dresser and nightstand. I'm sure you all can imagine what living out of suitcases looks like.
Here's to new opportunities and the imprint that a pale yellow house made on my life.
There is a difference between leaving home to move to Africa and leaving home to move across town. In many ways, this is more difficult, because it's not just the place I've lived for the past 8 months, it's the place I've lived (on and off) for the past 23 years.
When I returned home from Nigeria with 3 suitcases, no job, and horrific culture shock leaking out everywhere, my loving family welcomed me back into the home I grew up in. The 4 of us haven't lived all together since 2005, so there were lots of things to get used to! What a blessing though, to have a safe place to land while I worked to get back on my feet (in all senses of the phrase). God has been good, and life has been rich - I now have the perfect job, a great church community, and terrific friends. What I thought was landing zone is really a launching pad!
Two of my oldest friends had a beautiful townhouse and roommate getting married, and I moved in yesterday, thanks in large part to my brother (and his biceps). It's a beautiful place in a really convenient location. And by convenient, I mean that there is a Chipotle, Noodles, Starbucks, Potbelly, and Thai restaurant within one block. ONE BLOCK. This could be dangerous.
I promise pictures, but not until after I get my dresser and nightstand. I'm sure you all can imagine what living out of suitcases looks like.
Here's to new opportunities and the imprint that a pale yellow house made on my life.
2.11.2011
except I really do like it here
On the heels of yesterday's bittersweet post, please allow me to temper the bitter with more sweet. I truly didn't mean that I would rather be in Africa right now than stateside. Here's a quick indication that I'm grateful to be where I am:
Miami 2011
Vacations are where it's at, yo. I accompanied Jon on his work retreat and while he was in professional programming, I was on the beach, in the gym, at the spa, or by the pool. We also went sailing in Biscayne Bay. First time off since Thanksgiving (I worked Christmas Eve, trying to get the college open!) and I feel so very refreshed following our return.
Another reason I'm grateful to be on this continent? Girls' night tonight with some of my dearest friends, both old and new. We're getting our spa on. There will be chocolate brownies. And mango mousse. Please, no photos.
Miami 2011Vacations are where it's at, yo. I accompanied Jon on his work retreat and while he was in professional programming, I was on the beach, in the gym, at the spa, or by the pool. We also went sailing in Biscayne Bay. First time off since Thanksgiving (I worked Christmas Eve, trying to get the college open!) and I feel so very refreshed following our return.
Another reason I'm grateful to be on this continent? Girls' night tonight with some of my dearest friends, both old and new. We're getting our spa on. There will be chocolate brownies. And mango mousse. Please, no photos.
2.10.2011
maybe you saw this coming...
...but I sure didn't.
I feel pretty separated from Nigeria at this point. I didn't think this would happen. Actually, I feared it would happen and tried to convince myself I could avoid it. As cold as this sounds, it almost feels like I've moved on.
The past couple days, I've been talking about Nigeria a lot: the circumstances that led up to my relocation, the strongholds that were broken in my life while I was there, the person I became, the discoveries I made, the life I led. I allowed myself go back to it all and dwell on it.
It's terrifying how far away it all seems to me. It's also unnerving how different my life is now. It's an exciting kind of different--thrilling, even--and I wouldn't change it or substitute it or even go back. It's just unexpected.
My friend Laura reminded me this morning of something I wrote back in June, a week before I left Africa:
But in this I have confidence: I am where I am supposed to be, for such a time as this.
I said the exact same thing about being in Africa, and it is no less true now that I'm in America.
To my Nigerian friends and family: I miss you more than I can say. God is still sovereign.
I feel pretty separated from Nigeria at this point. I didn't think this would happen. Actually, I feared it would happen and tried to convince myself I could avoid it. As cold as this sounds, it almost feels like I've moved on.
The past couple days, I've been talking about Nigeria a lot: the circumstances that led up to my relocation, the strongholds that were broken in my life while I was there, the person I became, the discoveries I made, the life I led. I allowed myself go back to it all and dwell on it.
It's terrifying how far away it all seems to me. It's also unnerving how different my life is now. It's an exciting kind of different--thrilling, even--and I wouldn't change it or substitute it or even go back. It's just unexpected.
My friend Laura reminded me this morning of something I wrote back in June, a week before I left Africa:
Moments like these make me want to throw my hands in the air and ask God "Why this? Why now?" I'm sure he's got this all under control, but sometimes I'd really like to be let in on the secret.It's starting to make sense to me why I'm back in the US, and I can't tell you how many times I've looked at friends or family and said, "I'm so glad we're on the same continent right now!" But the price I'm paying for that to be true is more costly and more painful than I anticipated. There have been times in the past few months especially that, had you handed me a ticket to Abuja, I would have gone without so much as a carry-on; I ached that badly.
But in this I have confidence: I am where I am supposed to be, for such a time as this.
I said the exact same thing about being in Africa, and it is no less true now that I'm in America.
To my Nigerian friends and family: I miss you more than I can say. God is still sovereign.
1.28.2011
chivalry is not dead
For all you haters out there: Chivalry is not dead. There are, in fact, young men out there longing to honor and respect women. I just talked to a couple of them.
Some of our students stopped by the office this afternoon to hang out. As conversations with young men this age are wont to do, the topic turned to relationships. It's a common topic around here; a female student recently passed along to me an article on gender roles, which has also inspired some good conversations. Our guys especially are so tender-hearted, so intentional. They want to do right by the women in their lives - you can see it in their eyes and in the way they ask their questions. It's absolutely heartwarming.
One asked what it looks like to lead spiritually in a relationship. Another wondered about asking for permission to date a girl from her father. They want to be respectful. They want to be chivalrous.
As a woman, it's encouraging to hear their questions and thoughts. I feel like some might grow discouraged by the stereotypes of our generation. Of men who use and abuse, who physically or emotionally exploit, who won't commit. But these young men are a different kind, and will likely become absolutely standup men, husbands, and fathers of honor someday. How refreshing!
As their sister in Christ, and something of a spiritual mentor/encourager, it was also a neat teaching moment to tell them of my own experiences with godly, chivalrous men. They were genuinely interested to learn what a God-honoring relationship actually looks like, how it's fleshed out; what a privilege to tell them of my own and what a blessing it's been.
To the young women I know, take heart. God is building up a generation of young men who are tender warriors, firm in their cause and resolute in their purpose. The question remains: are we a generation of women who can respond with gentleness and graciousness to the chivalry they offer?
Some of our students stopped by the office this afternoon to hang out. As conversations with young men this age are wont to do, the topic turned to relationships. It's a common topic around here; a female student recently passed along to me an article on gender roles, which has also inspired some good conversations. Our guys especially are so tender-hearted, so intentional. They want to do right by the women in their lives - you can see it in their eyes and in the way they ask their questions. It's absolutely heartwarming.
One asked what it looks like to lead spiritually in a relationship. Another wondered about asking for permission to date a girl from her father. They want to be respectful. They want to be chivalrous.
As a woman, it's encouraging to hear their questions and thoughts. I feel like some might grow discouraged by the stereotypes of our generation. Of men who use and abuse, who physically or emotionally exploit, who won't commit. But these young men are a different kind, and will likely become absolutely standup men, husbands, and fathers of honor someday. How refreshing!
As their sister in Christ, and something of a spiritual mentor/encourager, it was also a neat teaching moment to tell them of my own experiences with godly, chivalrous men. They were genuinely interested to learn what a God-honoring relationship actually looks like, how it's fleshed out; what a privilege to tell them of my own and what a blessing it's been.
To the young women I know, take heart. God is building up a generation of young men who are tender warriors, firm in their cause and resolute in their purpose. The question remains: are we a generation of women who can respond with gentleness and graciousness to the chivalry they offer?
1.26.2011
on being preachy
In all honesty, I'm a bit at a loss for content on this blog. I don't live or teach in Nigeria anymore, I don't feel like my day-to-day life is all that interesting, and I don't know how well my friends and loved ones would like it if I started writing about them. Also, I don't have a cute kid to write about, or the adventures of being married or owning a house to draw on, like some of my other blogging friends.
What I do have though, is a big God, who condescended to save tiny insignificant me. And if my relationship to Him and with Him is all I can think to blog about, well then: That's all there was to write about in the first place.
I worry some about getting a bit preachy. Then I worried more about the connotations of being preachy. Then I worried less, because I figured as long as I'm preaching the right thing, I can be okay with being preachy. Then I worried some more because holy interwebs, Batman: am I preaching the right thing?
So I pulled out thedusty old Bible concordance biblegateway.com and
Here's what I found (emphasis mine):
Christ.
Alone.
What I do have though, is a big God, who condescended to save tiny insignificant me. And if my relationship to Him and with Him is all I can think to blog about, well then: That's all there was to write about in the first place.
I worry some about getting a bit preachy. Then I worried more about the connotations of being preachy. Then I worried less, because I figured as long as I'm preaching the right thing, I can be okay with being preachy. Then I worried some more because holy interwebs, Batman: am I preaching the right thing?
So I pulled out the
Here's what I found (emphasis mine):
- 2 Corinthians 4:5 "But what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servant for Jesus' sake."
- 1 Corinthians 1:18, 23 "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God...but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles."
- 1 Corinthians 15:1, 12-14 "Now, brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand... 12 But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? 13 If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. 14 And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith."
- Philippians 1:15-17 "It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. The latter do so out of love...The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely...But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice."
Christ.
Alone.
1.25.2011
on inadequacy, projects, and calling out elephants
There's a phrase we used in Nigeria: "I will deal with you ooo." It's used particularly when a parent disciplines a child, but more generically, when there's a serious conversation to be had. When a person must address someone else and it's a big deal.
God has been dealing with me, you guys.
Most recently, it's been my struggle against inadequacy in all forms. Physical, professional, relational, personal, spiritual: you name it, I've battled it within the past couple weeks. Let me just tell you, inadequacy wins these mental struggles. It wins because the struggle results in me resolving to make myself better in whatever way it is - to run a half marathon, to be more holy, to listen more, to take on more responsibility at work without losing grasp on my relationships, etc. Because clearly, the goal is to become something perfect: something God, and my parents, and my boss, and my friends, and even I can be proud of. Something fantastic and phenomenal.
Then I show up for church on Sunday night, where the message is titled: "Transformed: My (God's) Masterpiece."
Oh heyyyy, God. You have my attention.
Steve Wiens from Open Door shared. I cried. It was exactly what I needed to hear. He borrowed from John Ortberg here, but these words flashed up on the screen:
Steve called out the sin when he said that we focus on making our life--our project--acceptable to other people. Because it matters to me what they think. It becomes a full time job, he said. Because the inadequacy and the comparing myself is always there. Except that it's not my project. God is doing the work. Because I'm his project, his masterpiece. And he's not finished with me yet.
I very nearly ran to the communion table, where I knelt and surrendered my project (myself) to God. I can't do it anymore, but he is so capable. He is capable in my inadequacy and in my fears.
My best friend Laura reminded me tonight that fears are elephants in the room. My fear of inadequacy has been hanging out in the corner for far too long, growing bigger, not smaller, with each resolution I make to be better and more perfect.
So here I am, naming the elephant--Inadequacy--and stripping it of its power. I am not inadequate because I'm not even my own. I belong to Jesus Christ, my identity is found in Him, and he makes me worthy. There's a lot of power in that, and I'm going to say it until I believe it, all the way into my soul.
I told you God was dealing with me.
God has been dealing with me, you guys.
Most recently, it's been my struggle against inadequacy in all forms. Physical, professional, relational, personal, spiritual: you name it, I've battled it within the past couple weeks. Let me just tell you, inadequacy wins these mental struggles. It wins because the struggle results in me resolving to make myself better in whatever way it is - to run a half marathon, to be more holy, to listen more, to take on more responsibility at work without losing grasp on my relationships, etc. Because clearly, the goal is to become something perfect: something God, and my parents, and my boss, and my friends, and even I can be proud of. Something fantastic and phenomenal.
Then I show up for church on Sunday night, where the message is titled: "Transformed: My (God's) Masterpiece."
Oh heyyyy, God. You have my attention.
Steve Wiens from Open Door shared. I cried. It was exactly what I needed to hear. He borrowed from John Ortberg here, but these words flashed up on the screen:
Your life is not your project.God is dealing with me ooo.
Your life is God's project.
God thought you up.
God knows what you were intended to be.
Steve called out the sin when he said that we focus on making our life--our project--acceptable to other people. Because it matters to me what they think. It becomes a full time job, he said. Because the inadequacy and the comparing myself is always there. Except that it's not my project. God is doing the work. Because I'm his project, his masterpiece. And he's not finished with me yet.
I very nearly ran to the communion table, where I knelt and surrendered my project (myself) to God. I can't do it anymore, but he is so capable. He is capable in my inadequacy and in my fears.
My best friend Laura reminded me tonight that fears are elephants in the room. My fear of inadequacy has been hanging out in the corner for far too long, growing bigger, not smaller, with each resolution I make to be better and more perfect.
So here I am, naming the elephant--Inadequacy--and stripping it of its power. I am not inadequate because I'm not even my own. I belong to Jesus Christ, my identity is found in Him, and he makes me worthy. There's a lot of power in that, and I'm going to say it until I believe it, all the way into my soul.
I told you God was dealing with me.
1.21.2011
on the precarious, and waiting for nothing to happen
It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces. --Bridget Jones' Diary
I wonder if you ever play the same negative mind games as my dear friend Bridget Jones and I do.
Let me paint you a landscape: It's been a few months since something disastrous has happened (i.e. the loss of a grandparent). Things at work are pretty fantastic, opportunities on my specified career trajectory are opening up (a summer recruiting schedule is in the works), and I've developed rapport with my coworkers. The friend group I'm rooted in is growing and changing and deepening, but always--always--for the better. The church community I joined a few months ago has been ministering to my spirit and challenging me to be more intentional, more sacrificial, more Christ-like. I've even got some fun trips planned in the upcoming weeks: trips to relax and recharge, to meet new friends, and to bond with my oldest and dearest ones. In short, life is fantastic.
Which is round about the time that Bridget and I start getting on famously.
I am so guilty of finding myself in a place--a good, healthy, encouraging, loving place--and waiting for it all to fall spectacularly to pieces. As if my life couldn't possibly maintain a positive momentum for very long. Surely I do not deserve a life so full, so rich, so blessed. Surely it will all come crashing down very very very soon...perhaps even right. this. second.
What energy I must waste trying to keep all the glasses balanced on the tray without crashing to the floor. As if I were the one holding the tray to begin with.
Because really, I don't believe that nonsense. I believe that God gives and takes away, and I would choose Him over everything else, every single time. His love is better than life, even when my life is spectacular. Every single time.
It is so tempting to cling to all the wonderful things in my life, in an effort to control them and make them stay wonderful, when in fact, I just want to cling to Him instead. If I'm trying to hold on to all the pieces of my life and one piece breaks, I drop everything. But when I cling to Him and something falls, He can keep the rest in perfect balance, according to His will.
Clinging to Him means that I stay standing when a coworker of mine from Nigeria, a beautiful, vibrant, smiling twenty-five-year-old, dies from pneumonia, leaving behind her husband of two months.
Clinging to Him means that I can comfort friends who experience unexpected and painful loss, even when it happens 3 times in one week.
Clinging to Him means that I don't buckle under the pressure of added responsibility at work, or financial concerns, or even the stress of becoming an adult.
Clinging to Him does not mean that all the wonderful fantastic parts of my life will stay wonderful and fantastic. It means that if everything does fall spectacularly to pieces someday, I will still have hope.
And that hope? That's something I would stake my life on.
My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name
1.03.2011
the Table, communion, and why kneeling matters
Admittedly, this holiday season was the busiest of my life: balancing time with family & friends, travel, and the long-awaited launch of the college I work for. This has also been one of the richest, most meaningful Christmases I can ever remember. A lot of that meaning can be attributed to my new church community, The Table at CPC. Their celebration of Advent was both intentional and profound, and the candlelight Christmas Eve service was probably the most worshipful Christmas service I have ever experienced.
I don't know if you can have a favorite Church sacrament, but if it's possible, communion is mine. The most significant part for me is that at The Table, we typically kneel to receive the elements.
In this culture, this day and age, I am required to bow my knee to no one. Knowledge is power and money is king, and as long as I have both, it seems that I will never have to answer to anyone but myself. These are the lies my culture has sold me, and the truth is clearest to me on Sunday evenings, when I kneel in the face of absolute majesty. I kneel to remember He who took my place, and I kneel to remind myself that I am not in charge; I never was. I kneel in recognition that I give up my autonomy to belong to Jesus Christ, who paid the highest price for my freedom from the bondage of sin.
I don't kneel because I'm enslaved to fire-and-brimstone God. I don't kneel because I'm a brainless automaton who only moves when I'm instructed. I live and move and exercise my free will because of the grace of God. I make decisions and work hard and love my friends & family not because I'm forced to, but because, by God's grace, I am able. So I kneel to recognize that my ability to be a productive member of society comes from the God who made me and redeemed me, and the least I can do is dedicate the work of my hands and the overflow of my heart to His service.
In 2011, The Table will be celebrating communion each week and I am greatly looking forward to the weekly reminder that I kneel before and serve a God who knows me personally, cares about me deeply, and loves me sacrificially.
I don't know if you can have a favorite Church sacrament, but if it's possible, communion is mine. The most significant part for me is that at The Table, we typically kneel to receive the elements.
In this culture, this day and age, I am required to bow my knee to no one. Knowledge is power and money is king, and as long as I have both, it seems that I will never have to answer to anyone but myself. These are the lies my culture has sold me, and the truth is clearest to me on Sunday evenings, when I kneel in the face of absolute majesty. I kneel to remember He who took my place, and I kneel to remind myself that I am not in charge; I never was. I kneel in recognition that I give up my autonomy to belong to Jesus Christ, who paid the highest price for my freedom from the bondage of sin.
I don't kneel because I'm enslaved to fire-and-brimstone God. I don't kneel because I'm a brainless automaton who only moves when I'm instructed. I live and move and exercise my free will because of the grace of God. I make decisions and work hard and love my friends & family not because I'm forced to, but because, by God's grace, I am able. So I kneel to recognize that my ability to be a productive member of society comes from the God who made me and redeemed me, and the least I can do is dedicate the work of my hands and the overflow of my heart to His service.
In 2011, The Table will be celebrating communion each week and I am greatly looking forward to the weekly reminder that I kneel before and serve a God who knows me personally, cares about me deeply, and loves me sacrificially.
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