settled at last!

Ah.  It feels so nice to have rejoined the online world.  We had internet installed today, and J and I are such happy campers.  The net junkies inside us have been starving to death.

We moved up to Bellingham this past Sunday, and I am happy to be settling into our new home.  Introducing: The Little Grey House (LGH).  I seem to have an affinity for so-small-they’re=cute-in-a-doll-house-sort=of-way homes.  It really is so very cozy and comfortable though. 

So – recap of the past month, details to be filled in as needed:

November 11: our wedding day, followed by our weeklong honeymoon in Whistler.

The following week: Thanksgiving, with gads of my family up from California and Nevada.

The following Monday: Justin had hernia surgery.  This was oodles of fun.  I was able to experience the unique intimacy that is cleaning up your husband’s puke for the first time.  Nothing says “I love you” quite like it.

The following weekend: we ventured up to Bellingham to search for a place to live.  I fell in love with this little place online as we were searching Craigslist, and when we saw it in person, we knew this was the place.  God really provided for us.

This past Sunday: we moved!

Phew.

So — the wedding.  Well, I’ll start with the pre-event events.

The few days leading up to it were more interesting than I needed or wished, but that’s the way things go.  When I got a flat tire at 1 a.m. two nights before the wedding day (picking up Justin and Co. from the big Bachelor Party at Gameworks, an arcade in Seattle), I thought that we’d checked off the “weird inconvenient event” requirement that seems to need to be satisfied before any major event.  Unfortunately, I was wrong. 

Got a call at 5 a.m. Friday morning (wedding: Saturday) telling us that someone had set fire to the house my brother shares with five roommates in the University District.  Some asshole thought it would be a real hoot to set the couch on their porch on fire, in addition to setting three or four more fires in the neighborhood.  Everyone got out okay, but things could have been much worse had someone not been sleeping in the front room.  My brother lives with twins, Josh and Jeremy, who lived in the same neighborhood as us ever since we were small kids.  Their older sister Chelsie crashed out front and woke up because of the smoke and alerted everyone.  The house was a total loss — see more pics (and my brother’s fifteen seconds of fame on the news) at www.ourroofisonfire.blogspot.com.

Yeah, no kidding.  We are so glad everyone was okay.  My brother arrived in plenty of time to make the wedding, and even though his tux was smokey, I only teased him once or twice.  The boys are all moved in to a new house together and are trying to adjust to everything they lost.  (The day after the fire, people broke into the house and stole what hadn’t burned in the fire.  Yeah.  No kidding).  Others have been extremely generous with their donations though, and the boys have seen a lot of kindness and blessings out of this horrible mess.

Okay, this post is long enough and we are in danger of losing power because of this crazy windstorm we’re supposed to be getting in the next few hours.  I hope to share a few stories from the wedding soon.  Be well and blessed, all. 

–sl

Oh, and Jennie — the laughing picture from the wedding is right after Dan, our dear friend and pastor, shushed Justin.  Dan was speaking about something (it could have been my attempt to embrace football and the Seahawks) and J piped in with a quick comment.  Dan said something to the effect of “Excuse me, young man, but it’s my turn to talk right now.”  Thus the pout lip and my laughter.  It was a brilliant moment, one among many favorites. 

no bridezillas allowed

So we’re 88 days out (not that anyone is counting) and full-scale into preparations for the big day.  I’m so pumped.  The thought of being Justin’s wife makes me grin ear to ear, and it’s ridiculous, but I’ll happily endure it.  I keep on thinking that I couldn’t be more sure about this, and then we go through a moment when he encourages me, or shows me grace when I’m stressed out, or simply makes me laugh til I have tears coming out of my eyes — and amazingly, I’m even more convinced that this is everything I wanted and then some.  I seriously didn’t know it could be like this.  I am fully myself, and fully loved.

I’m excited for the festivities, excited to make my vows to J (VERY excited for our honeymoon in Whistler!), but still — a question looms large in the back of my head: “Does it really have to be this damn complicated?” Does the big day really have to be so big and daunting?

So… I’m kind of committed to running every detail of the wedding past these two questions as I’m making decisions.

1.  Will anyone remember this the next day?

2.  Will I remember this the next day?  Or even care the next day?

If the answer to one or both of the above questions is “No” or “Doubtful”… then I’ve pretty much decided to not really give a rip (i.e. not stress about it and definitely not spend much moolah on it).

There are a few details I care about — the dress, of course (which I got a KILLER deal on)… who my bridesmaids are, what music we’ll use (not the Bridal Chorus or Canon in D, that’s for sure)… that kind of stuff.  But the rest… dude.  A girl could make herself insane if she cared passionately about every single little detail.  (Not to mention her poor groom). 

Craigslist, craigslist, craigslist.  Delegate, delegate, delegate.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve never gotten overwhelmed.  I’d be a big fat liar.  But I am committed to letting the focus remain where it needs to be: being a wife rather than on being the bride.  The marriage, not the wedding.  That’s what matters, and throwing your party for any reason other than this is foolishness.

Less than three months.  Day by day, we’ll get there.  Can’t wait.

the man we call “the vault”

So, here’s how it all went down (Julie and I were able to talk last night, so I’m able to share freely now).

The girls and I all crashed at Grace’s on Friday night.  We met there around seven, so Justin and I made dinner together before I headed out.  As we’re leaving, he tells me: “Don’t hurry back or anything.  I’ll probably uh, sleep in, and afterward, I’ll get some chores done before heading out to your place.”

I turned away, biting my lip to avoid laughing.  He doesn’t sleep in.  And I doubted he’d be worried about chores first thing on a Saturday morning.  Beyond this, he’s just not a very talented liar.  This honesty is a plus in most situations, a curse for him in this particular scenario.

I went to Grace’s.  Kevin had come over from Seattle to hang out with the fam for the weekend, so after I left Grace’s the next morning, I headed to my parent’s place.  We’re sitting there at the kitchen table drinking coffee and laughing as usual, when there’s a knock at the door.

“That’d be Justin,” I say, thinking that he’d stopped by the Little Blue House a quarter mile away and guessed where I’d be.

This is the moment where I was a little slow on the uptake.  Poor Justin had stopped by to ask my dad for his permission and blessing to marry me.  He was unfortunate on two counts.  One, my brother and I were there.  Two, my dad was working the weekend.

He played it off well.

Kevo and I and Justin went to the LBH and watched a triple feature (the temps were in the 95-degree range and Washington homes don’t have A/C for the most part, so we were incapable of actual activity).  We later reappeared at my folks’ house for a barbecue.

My mom, grandma and I were in the kitchen prepping some of the food.  Justin, boasting of his grilling skills, went out on the deck with my dad. 

[A brief aside: Justin knows my family.  Moreover, Justin knows my dad.  He knew that the window between asking my dad for permission and proposing to me would need to be as small as possible because my dad lacks the ability to keep a secret when he's excited about something.  Little did he know how small that window actually needed to be.]

So Justin asked my dad for his blessing, to which my dad’s highly verbal response was, “Yeah, sure!  No problem.”

Justin was thinking there might be a little more involved in the conversation, but, except for the few occasions where he is a man of too many words, my dad is often a man of few.

Relieved at having this very important task done, Justin reflected for a moment on how easy it had been, how well it had gone.  No sooner had he relaxed into the moment than I stepped out onto the deck.

And then the ax fell.  My dad, mid-burger flip on the grill, says to me: “I told him ‘No.’  Heh heh heh heh heh.”

Kevin, through clenched teeth: “Dad, shutup.”

Dad, through loose lips: “Oh, heh heh.  SHHHHHHH.”

Justin, in abject horror: speechless.

Me, in equally abject horror: “Unbelievable.”

How can a guy recover from that?  Not too easily.  However, in my family, there are few things that aren’t fodder for a good laugh, so the entire dinner was spent with all of us, Justin included, cracking jokes about what had happened, my dad looking quite sheepish.  Justin was careful to immediately pass on to my brother the wisdom of making sure to explicitly ask the girl’s dad not to say ANYTHING when asking for his blessing.  I was deeply grateful for his ability to have a sense of humor about the whole thing.  (Luckily, the proposal was never going to be a total surprise, as we’d already been talking about getting married pretty much since we got together.  My response to the big question was never going to be “What?!  I had no idea this was coming!  I have no idea what to say!”)

He didn’t give up all attempts at suspense, however.  While taking a walk around sunset later that night, he stopped and said, “I was going to wait til later to say this, but… it’s just so pretty right now.”  After a pause for dramatic flair, he kissed me and told me that he loved me.  And then began walking again.  I, ever-so-smoothly, gave him no indication (and thus, no satisfaction) that anything was amiss.  No way would I let him know that he had me going for about three seconds.

Jerk.

He later told me that he had other such scenarios all planned out, just to keep me antsy.  Luckily for me, the ring was burning a hole in his pocket.  He said it was worse than being a kid in the grocery store candy aisle with a buck in hand.

Sunday morning, Justin showed up at my place with two mochas from Starbucks.  I was still in bed, and because of the bright and way-too-early sunlight, had sleeping shades over my eyes.  I didn’t even take them off, I simply slid them up on my head, no doubt sending my already-messy hair into even more impressive directions.

He knelt down by my bed, and we talked for a few minutes.  He told me he loves me (nothing unusual here) and how happy I make him (nothing unusual here either — I am one of those fortunate human beings who is told these things daily).  He then paused, and said, “You know, you’d look a whole lot better drinking that coffee if you had a ring on your finger.”

He then pulled the ring out of his pocket and said, “Will you marry me?”

It was brilliant.  Didn’t see it coming at 7:30 on a Sunday morning.

Then and there, sitting in bed with my hair a mess and sleep in my eyes, Justin kneeling beside me, I agreed to be his wife.

***

It’s these Big Moments in life that we anticipate perfection.  We have a story written out in our head of how things will go — what will happen, and how.  What often happens is so much different than the perfectly timed movie-like scenes that play out in our minds. 

However, these moments are not played out by actors and actresses, but by human beings.  They involve the unpredicable blurt-outs of a father excited for his daughter’s at-last happiness.  They involve a family laughing over it all (and perhaps doing a bit of mocking and scoffing) for hours afterward.  They involve a proposal to me in my pajamas with my hair a mess and sleeping shades resting crookedly on top of my head.

These moments play our far differently than what you imagine in your head.  They are better and more beautiful and far more moving than you could ever anticipate.  They are real.  They are perfect.

***

Ten thirty a.m. Sunday morning, my phone rings.  My dad is calling from work.

Me: “Morning, dad.”

Dad: “You two official yet?  Heh heh heh.”

a question, and an answer

Well, some of you have guessed that something, or rather, someONE, has inadvertently been keeping me from blogging of late.  Some of you would be absolutely correct.

What a sweet, sweet distraction he’s been, too. 

Yesterday morning, Justin got down on his knees and asked me to be his wife.

I happily accepted.

How sweet and full of joy my life is.

More details to come.  You can’t write stuff this good.