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:

[photo/recipe credit]

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 sorted 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."

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:

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

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! ;)

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.

'tis the season

You know what feeling I love best?

Anticipation.

Unfortunately, I don't think I do anticipation very well as an adult. With children, it's easy to spot: the bright eyes, the wide smiles, the cannot-be-contained energy. They literally don't know what to do with themselves until the expected day or event arrives--and it shows.

But adults? We seem to temper ourselves. We maintain an appropriate level of excitement. The anticipation may threaten to leak out everywhere, but in general, we keep it under wraps.

However, this is the season of anticipation: Advent, in which we await the birth of Christ. I didn't grow up celebrating Advent, with the calendars or the wreaths or the candles, but discovered it in college: first, with the Book of Common Prayer in Renaissance Literature and then, at Life Church, where I began unpacking the concept of holy anticipation.

As a woman, it's especially meaningful to me that Advent begins with a woman in the most intimate moment of her life. I love the language of the Magnificat, and as gorgeous as the first line is in Latin--Magnificat: anima mea Dominum--I appreciate the simplicity of the Book of Common Prayer:

My soul doth magnify the Lord : and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.

For he hath regarded : the lowliness of his handmaiden.

For behold, from henceforth : all generations shall call me blessed.

For he that is mighty hath magnified me : and holy is his Name.

And his mercy is on them that fear him : throughout all generations.

He hath shewed strength with his arm : he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.

He hath filled the hungry with good things : and the rich he hath sent empty away.

He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel : as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed for ever.

So Advent begins with the announcement of a pregnancy. (No, really.) A pregnancy that was dangerous, a pregnancy that should never have happened, an impossible pregnancy, really. Mary is so strong in her vulnerability at this moment. But if we limit Advent to the joyful anticipation of the birth of Christ, I wonder if we've missed the bigger picture:

Advent is really the anticipation of the arrival of Israel's salvation.

Perhaps we don't have a clear concept of that kind of anticipation: Waiting. Thousands of years of waiting. Patient waiting sometimes, but mostly impatient waiting. Groaning. How long, O Lord? Come quickly. Questioning. Has He forgotten us? Perhaps our God won't make good on His promise.

See, anticipation isn't just bouncing our knees, arms outstretched, smile on our face. It is that, but it is more. Advent is joyful because we know that He does arrive, and He does ransom Israel. But it's also messy. It's impatient people, unworthy of rescue, crying out to God to be saved, maybe even doubting it will happen. As the years stack up, and generations stretch out, perhaps it becomes the stuff of legends, like that story your grandpa tells you're pretty sure isn't true. It just seems so unlikely that the waiting will ever end. That God will ever remember you.

And then it happens. The promise is fulfilled.

Doesn't that make the shepherds seem so much more genuine? Imagine the young men, who doubted it would ever happen. Imagine the old men, whose hope was maybe a little more real. Imagine the small boys, who would never know the lifetime of waiting all their forefathers knew. The fulfillment was right now. It was here. It was real.

That is Advent to me. It's so much more than the excitement of pregnancy. It's the culmination of years of that quietly-whispered hope and those tender prayers. So Advent is anticipation: joyful and messy. Isn't that just the story of our whole lives?

Magnificat: anima mea Dominum.

once a nanny, always a nanny

I had one of those "moments" tonight.

You know the kind where you're pretty sure time is moving too fast and you just want everything to slow down a little?

Yeah, that.

I babysat tonight for a family I have come to love. What started as a strictly housekeeping position three summers ago has become a beautiful, flexible, on-call-when-you-need-me job. A few weeks ago, it was taking Andrew to hockey (and getting all his equipment on him, which was a job and half). Tonight was straight-up babysitting for Andrew (6) and Matthew (almost 3).

Here's why I had my little "moment":

Fall 2007. Matthew arrives.

Then there's these, from tonight:

Andrew eating Cheerios and working on homework.

Matthew, snuggling up after a little meltdown

So there it is: my moment. I can't believe Andrew is old enough to read books to me. I melted a little when Matthew pointed at the lions in our book and said "li-lon." I've been privileged to watch these little ones become little boys. I've been with this family through potty training and home renovation. I've taken the boys down the slide at the park and pushed them on the swings. I've looked after them in toy stores and hair salons. I once stopped Andrew from being struck by a car. And a few weeks ago, I had intermittent freak-outs every time he fell on the ice at hockey practice.

Their family has shared my life with me, too. They were around when Amanda got married. I was still with them when Dad and Jake had their accident on the Yellowstone. In fact, they were among the first to know about Nigeria, since I was working for them at the time.

There's just a lot of life that's happened in the 3+ years I've known their family. And tonight I had a little moment: memories of all that I've been blessed to see and experience with them wrapped up in a glimpse of the future in store for them. It was precious, to say the least.

Clearly, I'm not a mom yet. And from what I've heard, these "moments" get more intense worse when they're your own. Clearly, I'm not there yet. But I hope to be someday. I figure this is something like fair warning.

a few of my favorite things

[This post has some incredible photography, none of which is mine. Thank you, Marjorie Howell.]

Once upon a time, it was October.

Which is probably my favorite month of my favorite season. For a lot of reasons. October brings changing leaves, harvest time, birthdays, crisp weather, and tiny whispers of winter.

It also brings apple picking, which is probably the most delightful activity there ever was.

If you plant me a Cortland apple tree, I'll love you forever. Fact.

So this weekend, I went to an orchard.And I picked. And I ate. Well, we ate.

And we took pictures and laughed.

Oh, did we laugh."We" being me and three amazing people that God has seen fit to bless me with.
How it makes sense, I don't know; but I am grateful.

It was the most enchanting day I've had since coming back from Nigeria. By far.

It is true that life also goes through seasons. Some are filled with trials and pinching and stretching. Other seasons, like this one, are filled with innumerable joys. The differences between today and 365 days ago are vast, but my trust is in the same God, who is still faithful, still in control, and still blessing me.

Here's to a new season, which coincides nicely with my favorite season.

All pictures courtesy Spencer and Marjorie Howell. Thanks, you two.

where credit is due

My embarrassing post from yesterday really has another story. And I need to tell the other side of that story. It's far better, and more redeeming, than my stupidity.

So yes, I lost my keys. But in those precious few minutes of sheer panic ("Oh my gosh they could be anywhere in downtown Minneapolis!"), I had some really amazing people on hand.

Everyone, meet Spencer, Marjorie and Jon. ::Hi, guys:: Yes I used their real names and if they hate me forever and wish to remain anonymous and protect their internet identity, I'll just change their names to something really unbelievable like Bullwinkle or Guadeloupe.

OKAY. Not the point of the story. So I kinda tweaked a little when I lost my keys and maybe pulled at my hair and bit my lip really. hard. and muttered bad things under my breath. But there were really only two options: look for them and cry about it or look for them and laugh about it. And really only one of those is even remotely desirable.

So we looked. They dumped out bags of newspapers and pulled the cushions off their furniture and got down on the floors and shook coat pockets and hugged me and reassured me that it would be okay and we all checked my purse over and over and over. And in the middle of it all, someone cracked a joke. And we laughed. And it wasn't so terrible. And it was mostly okay. Which is what amazing friends are for.

BUT WAIT. It gets better.

Because when we resigned ourselves to the idea that the keys would not, in fact, be found that night, my thoughts turned to how I would get home. And just like that, Spencer goes, "You can take the Taurus." Just. Like. That. Not enough to offer to take me home, but to let me take one of their cars.

This is what amazing friends do. They put forth more effort than necessary. They give more than the standard permits. They complicate their own lives (however slightly) and go down to one car per family to help the idiot that lost her keys. And we laugh about it. Together. I am so inspired by these friends I have. And grateful. And humbled. And reminded that this is, once again, what it means to do life together.

This is community. And it is beautiful. And accepting of idiots like me.

All systems go!

It's official! My counteroffer has been accepted!

I'm moving to Abuja, Nigeria in 5 weeks!


A massive thank you to the people who have been praying for me since I found out about this opportunity. I truly believe that now is the right time to do something crazy and I'm going to be obedient wherever God leads me. Thank you for praying for me!

I'll be updating here as I get closer to departure (somewhere around August 22nd), and once I'm in Nigeria, I'll be sending an additional email newsletter with updates.

I'm so excited!

I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart

Today I woke up and set about my list of cleaning chores for the day. And in the middle of scrubbing dog drool off the walls of the laundry room, I was overwhelmed by the joy of the Lord in full force!

It was so unexpected, but I needed an attitude adjustment and my discouragement was replaced with joy.

Hallelujah.