tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-127847885315789792024-03-05T08:46:29.730-08:00Soul ClingersMy soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
Psalm 63:8Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-31563616203999474862013-04-03T21:42:00.003-07:002013-04-03T21:45:32.546-07:00California Dreamin' (Spring Break Camping Trip)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally...arrived in Carpinteria. Chilling on the beach. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the sunset.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrian ready to dig into smores at our next stop: San Simeon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lovely tent. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely morning walk in Cambria</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this might be on our way back from Monterey. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I seriously could not believe this was California.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quick little hike/walk to see this little waterfall. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYJUEzbR9mrUU2fT0CqSeyc9GOAP-qaz9ZSUFu3gNELRX-g3yjDPgVADMEV-KRSwmyzgeCALuZfXZqiBXWteRfDJfFgBmwuFz0A6dTWgrpxHIDAFcwsfgq5R9C1Rnv4in6OrKReExOmQ/s1600/23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYJUEzbR9mrUU2fT0CqSeyc9GOAP-qaz9ZSUFu3gNELRX-g3yjDPgVADMEV-KRSwmyzgeCALuZfXZqiBXWteRfDJfFgBmwuFz0A6dTWgrpxHIDAFcwsfgq5R9C1Rnv4in6OrKReExOmQ/s640/23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next stop: Morro Bay. Another morning walk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpHdwrUFsFyPbyeUuf7cG-ykA81UAglDQuCm8nvHorVGQ-YcLAqp0uAPBSDWKAccYtvO461FFBeVbZK8OGozemAjWK73LcOSqq173Ve6p6u1E1QwBvGAIAompFem-6rpILKrIzLsOtvM/s1600/24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpHdwrUFsFyPbyeUuf7cG-ykA81UAglDQuCm8nvHorVGQ-YcLAqp0uAPBSDWKAccYtvO461FFBeVbZK8OGozemAjWK73LcOSqq173Ve6p6u1E1QwBvGAIAompFem-6rpILKrIzLsOtvM/s640/24.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why yes, folks, those are my blue sweats. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-77731224919500258512013-03-19T14:03:00.000-07:002013-04-01T10:51:22.949-07:00Here We Come<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Being married is an adventure. It is one big, crazy aspect of the life-adventure. And it's wonderful. (Didn't the movie UP teach us this?)<br />
<br />
My favorite part of being married is taking adventures together. I love date-adventures, late night boredom-adventures, stepping-out-into-the-wild-unknown-adventures, and exploratory-adventures. My husband is my best friend in the world. He is my partner in crime, my companion in silliness, and my adventure buddy. I hope we get to spend the rest of our days laughing and discovering together. <br />
<br />
In these next few years, as we continue in our seminary-adventure, we've got a list of trip-adventures we'd love to make happen. We have no idea whether they will or not, because we have no idea what our master adventure planner has in store for us, but this week we're hoping to scratch one off the list.<br />
<br />
We're heading out on a camping trip up the coast of California for Adrian's spring break, and though there are parts of me that are worried and somewhat terrified, Adrian's enthusiasm never fails to make me excited. So, whether or not the weather cooperates, we have all the food we need, and we have any idea what we're doing or where we're going, we're in it together. We're going to drive the coast and see what's waiting for us. Adventure is out there, folks. Here's to not being afraid of enjoying it!<br />
<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-56361693640818420922013-01-01T22:12:00.000-08:002013-01-01T22:14:07.302-08:00The Miserables<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikSHXL1pszg6o-wOFHUaGd9vCxWUktZKLGSReZI8TOgpkj4LnjDnGu0tJ7svK_b8I_fo1hVSLdZffqGn-demoKQDJJdxAAZtLJUggK3nD-sNbUEijoG8qnZfNkf2E1IVCd5nBBGlOd4c/s1600/lesmiserables.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikSHXL1pszg6o-wOFHUaGd9vCxWUktZKLGSReZI8TOgpkj4LnjDnGu0tJ7svK_b8I_fo1hVSLdZffqGn-demoKQDJJdxAAZtLJUggK3nD-sNbUEijoG8qnZfNkf2E1IVCd5nBBGlOd4c/s1600/lesmiserables.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
Like many others last week, I made it out to the theaters to
see Les Miserables. It is one of my favorite stories. It was assigned to me as
summer reading my senior year of high school, and like the high schooler that I
was, I put it off reading it until 5 days before school began. I read it
(abridged though it was) in 5 days. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last year I was introduced to the musical of Les Miserables.
I had seen the year before (so back in 2012) that Les Miserables would be
performed in L.A. the next summer and somehow I convinced my fiancé to plan on
going to see it in those first couple of months of our marriage. We bought
tickets, bought the soundtrack, listened to all the music, had no idea what it
was about, and went to enjoy our experience of Les Miserables LIVE. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time around was different. I knew the story, knew the
music, knew the way it was performed, yet still I found myself crying
embarrassing hacking sobs in the middle of a packed out theater.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I’ve been considering it the last few days, I realized
that one of the most resounding aspects for me of the movie was the ending. Or
rather, the lack of what I might consider typical happy ending. Fantine has
died much earlier, now many young men have died in a revolution attempt, and
instead of ending with the marriage of Cossette and Marius, the story moves to
Valjean’s death. He enters the next life with the host of others who have gone
before him in the story. The Miserables re-united is how I might sum it up. It
is, in many ways, a confusing ending. Marius has just sung, “Oh my friends, my
friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for.” Now Valjean joins those
friends. He joins the ones who have died without bringing about any change. He
joins Fantine, who was not even able to see her daughter before her death,
though she gave her life for her. He joins Eponine, who dies for one who loves
another. He joins the cast of the miserable ones, leaving you emotionally
exhausted and perhaps confusingly hopeful. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They were all in
heaven</i>, you might think. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So that’s a
pretty happy ending</i>. But the power of the ending is found in the final
words, words easier to miss as you wipe your nose and prepare to leave the
theater after nearly 3 hours of mind-numbing sadness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is quick. Fantine sings, “Come with me where chains will
never bind you, all your grief at last, at last behind you.” And as he enters
the chorus of the miserable, the triumph resounds from those with the saddest
of beginnings and the most desperate of endings: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you hear the people sing?<br />
Lost in the valley of the night<br />
It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light<br />
For the wretched of the earth<br />
There is a flame that never dies<br />
Even the darkest nights will end and the sun will rise<br />
<br />
They will live again in freedom in the garden of the lord<br />
They will walk behind the ploughshare<br />
They will put away the sword<br />
The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the song of redemption, but it is the song of men
who lived and died in misery. They carried their crosses and they felt no
relief. They died without their children, with unrequited love, and with no
hope of social change. They died in misery, in a bloodbath, conquered by those mightier
than them. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The “dark night” you expect to end while the people live
does not end. It claims lives. Yet somehow the people still sing, “Even the
darkest nights will end and the sun will rise.” They did not live to see it,
but they claimed it. They never saw freedom, they died fighting, in slavery,
yet now they “live again in freedom…They will put away the sword. The chain
will be broken and all men will have their reward.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marius has just sung, “Here they sang about `tomorrow' And
tomorrow never came.” But here we see that “Somewhere beyond the barricade is
there a world you long to see. Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear
the distant drums? It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We cry in Les Miserables because there is no respite. There
is no reward. There is no hope. There is misery after misery after misery. This
world seems to offer little joy and no real triumph. People die longing for “tomorrow”
but tomorrow does not seem to come. They die fighting for a new world, but one
does not seem to emerge. But there is a glimpse, a battle cry of relief, as the
world they longed for arrives, as they enter into tomorrow. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ending seems dissonant to our American sensibilities. We
only know of good things fought for and gained. Victory seen and grasped. But
this is our story. It is victory longed for, died for, not yet realized. It is
victory when everything seems to have been lost, when we lose. It is victory
after death. It is victory in death. It is redemption in its truest sense: a
victory we do not now see and often do not feel; victory accomplished yet long
awaited; victory we claim as our own as we join the cast of the miserable ones
and look forward to raising the flag with them. </div>
Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-83535522444926694612012-11-27T08:43:00.000-08:002012-11-27T08:43:18.851-08:00Life TodayI've decided I'm a horrible blogger when it comes to writing about my life. I just don't find it all that interesting. But, I also recognize that part of the reason I started this thing was so I could keep people (somewhat) updated on my life. So, here's a little snapshot of my life today.<br />
<br />
I'm sitting on my couch in my PJ's right now, having just finished drinking English Breakfast tea with honey and reading my Bible. I'm almost done with Galatians, which has coincided perfectly with our church Bible studies on grace. We've been talking about the way we live under both God's law and the laws we make for ourselves (or think society makes for us) and are constantly condemned. Last time we talked about the glory of justification and how it really does free us each day from our bondage and fear and guilt.<br />
<br />
Sadly, Adrian won't be able to go to Bible study tonight because he is in crazy paper writing mode. He already wrote the majority of one paper this semester, and is halfway done with the second one right now, but he has to finish them both up by Friday. So, I am doing my own thing this week. Last night I got a free movie from redbox and cuddled up in bed eating popcorn. Not exactly the most supportive or productive I could have been, but I quite enjoyed it. Plus, it kept me out of the way and Adrian got through 3 pages. (Side note: I watched Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, and I liked it. But then again, I love Steve Carell. I watch things just because he's in them. Anyways, I thought this had kind of a Dan in Real Life feel, though a bit darker, since, obviously, the world is about to be blown into oblivion.)<br />
<br />
I finished my book yesterday morning, which is also partly what led me to my popcorn eating, bed cuddling, movie night. I feel a little crazy when I don't have a book with a strange bookmark in the middle of it because I've been reading it in strange places and at strange times, dying to know where it's going. My latest venture was A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle, and it was so lovely I immediately reserved the sequel at my library. Hopefully I'll make it there today. If you want to read about France, lovely and strange French food, and all sorts of strange and wonderful French people, I completely recommend the book. It was interesting, charming, and often hilarious. It reminded me of a book I read a while ago by Jack Smith....I think it was called God and Mr. Gomez, unless he wrote other books about the same process of building a house in Mexico. That was hilarious also.<br />
<br />
Well, I have to start work here in a few minutes. I'm working on the Christmas newsletter this week, so I'm quite busy, but I'm enjoying it more than usual :) Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go. <br />
<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-24973909456901801232012-11-14T09:53:00.001-08:002012-11-15T08:55:23.369-08:00Leaves of Glory<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I can smell the damp musty decay of the leaves that reminds
me of my childhood. It is the smell of ground seeping through sheets of colored
glory, moving them towards disintegration. It is the smell of raking with my
hands, patting and forming my perfect bed of leaves. It is the smell of lying
face upturned, of autumn sky and sadness and dreams, and a cold wetness
staining the back of my clothes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
As I stand, surrounded by heights of orange, red, yellow—leaves
slow-dancing in the breeze, gracefully poised in stillness on the ends of thin
limbs—I am amazed that there can be so much beauty in the midst of decay. That
it is the very process of decay that gives simple leaves wild color strokes. How
is it that the decay of leaves is so glorious—so memorable that I can smell its
mustiness and be transported back to my time as a girl rolling, leaves clinging
to my hair and clothes, in a leaf-bed—while the decay of our own bodies is a
slow, sad song? It is pain and suffering and grief. It is watching the person
you love turn into someone you don’t recognize anymore. It is standing there
wanting them back, yet wishing them forward. It is not knowing what to say and
crying when you’re done not saying it. It doesn’t feel like there’s glory in
our death. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At least, that’s what my grief told me. I feel like I have
never really known grief until this year, and now I have known it twice. Death
knocked at my door and grief opened, unknowingly, but quick and fast. Death is
recognized in the same instant that grief overtakes. They share the same
moment, becoming intertwined and inseparable as they meet at that open door. It
is the moment when you too feel as though you are dying. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
In spite of this, in a strange and incomprehensible way, there
was one death—perhaps one of the most horrific deaths of all time—that was
simultaneously glorious. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So Jesus said to them, ‘When you have lifted up the Son of
Man, then you will know that I AM…” (Jn. 8:28)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all
people to myself.” (Jn. 12:32)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Christ was “lifted up” in a double sense: lifted up on the
cross and at the same time lifted up in exaltation. For Christ, his death <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> his exaltation. It was in moment of
his death that God himself was revealed—the one who is called “I AM” and who
draws his redeemed to himself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this happened so that even though there doesn’t seem to
be any glory in our death, there can be. It is a glory that we don’t see, and
to be honest, that we don’t really understand. It is not colorful and musty; it
is disheartening and painful. It is despair written on the brokenness of our
bodies, sin carved in our decay. When we are close to Death, we see the Fall
manifested and Glory feels far and unknowable. And that’s because the glory we
ache for is not visible to us. It is, as yet, unseen, by those who remain here.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6ozOtVccNf9am4xOGLidilk8Zp_nJOZNPwCmPjq8rQP5KN9cMZxBpcOPAZ-HqH6j0q2JSqm80xrrINearKvEndoykdxFa25JzGcGtFUsPLg6psNEs7iWTuFBjsvGccLKrTKj6tsFICQ/s1600/P1020617.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6ozOtVccNf9am4xOGLidilk8Zp_nJOZNPwCmPjq8rQP5KN9cMZxBpcOPAZ-HqH6j0q2JSqm80xrrINearKvEndoykdxFa25JzGcGtFUsPLg6psNEs7iWTuFBjsvGccLKrTKj6tsFICQ/s320/P1020617.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting
away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight and
momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all
comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that
are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are
unseen are eternal.” (2 Cor. 4:16-18). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These verses feel perhaps hopeful when we read them before
we do laundry or pack our husband’s lunch. They feel weak when faced with the
reality of the cold, stiffness of death. Eternal, unseen glory? Yet my grandma
lies scattered, and I’ll never hear her voice on the phone again singing me
Happy Birthday. She won’t make us pancakes and gracefully accept our
gift-offerings of blooming weeds, displaying them in a vase for all to admire.
She won’t send us a Valentine’s Day card signed with her shaky handwriting or
make us all line up before we leave for a picture taken with her disposable
camera. She won’t shuffle down the hallway, looking in drawers for that thing
she meant to give me, but can’t remember now. Eternal glory seems weak because
it is not what I know and what I know is now gone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
Thankfully, that does not make it any less true. The only
thing I have learned this last year as grief has made its home in the corner of
my house is this: We really need a Savior. We need to be saved from this decay
of the body that is not glorious. We need to be saved from the wrenching apart
of body and soul that was not intended. We need to be saved from the inescapable
grief that comes when we have to live without the one we’ve always known, or
the one we didn’t know we could love so deeply. Redeemer, we need you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold,
the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will
be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe
away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall
there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have
passed away.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold I am
making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this down, for these words are
trustworthy and true.’ (Rev. 21:3-5). </div>
Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-28353221252203479042012-10-10T20:26:00.001-07:002012-10-11T10:27:11.076-07:00Poor SoulsMy pantry is small; cans of tomato sauce stack on one another, somewhat precariously, waiting to tumble off the hidden corner shelf. My budget is tight; I touch the softness of sweaters and look and the brightness of colors and wish them for my own, but in the end I turn away wistfully. My house is simple; books double-line bookshelves and plaster cracks and moths wriggle through holes in window screens, and I want to fix everything, but I just live here.<br />
<br />
This is my life--simple and sweet in many ways, but in the end, poor. It's different than what I've always know. What I've known and breathed was frugality--poorness by choice. Knowing you have money away in the bank, but choosing not to spend it, it's a different thing. Knowing your husband isn't working full-time anymore, but going to school, scouring textbooks, and your paychecks are small and the money in the bank is all there is, it's a scary thing.<br />
<br />
I think many of us are under a false impression that once we graduate from college, we'll be set. We'll get a job with our degree and settle in and make money and pay off our car and go to restaurants and plays and support our church and save for rainy days. Then we get an entry level job, or get married and go back to school, or face mounds of debt and we find ourselves discouraged. Maybe it's not that we think money is all there is, just that we thought there would be a bit more of it. I find myself remembering high school days when my after-school job paid for movie tickets; today we buy a Groupon deal and save it for six months, waiting for a movie really worth going to see. I remember buying make-up and jewelry just for fun; now I look at the two pair of earrings I wear on a regular basis and kind of wish I had remembered to ask for some for my birthday. I don't feel like I need a lot of stuff, I just hate feeling restricted. And when I ache under those ties, I find myself feeling discontent, slowly allowing myself to be taken into a bondage of covetousness and idolatry.<br />
<br />
Right now, I don't know how I'm going to get through the next four years of seminary living, and the years of kids and ministry after that. But this is what I do know:<br />
<br />
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</xml><![endif]--><b>I am united to Christ.</b> I am quite literally, one with him. And if that is true, what I do have to worry about? Hudson Taylor wrote to his sister, "Oh, my dear Sister, it is a wonderful thing to be really one
with a risen and exalted Saviour, to be a member of Christ! Think what it
involves. Can Christ be rich and I poor? Can your right hand be
rich and your left poor, or your head be well fed while your body
starves?" </div>
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I will not be left alone. I will not go without. I will be cared for. As long as I am one with Christ, I have nothing to fear, no anxiety that is really legitimate. I am the body of Christ and my Savior will care for me in whatever way he sees fit. He was himself abandoned so I do not ever have to be. </div>
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<br />
<b>I have endless things to be thankful for.</b> The more time I focus on what I can't have (which these days, seems to be quite a lot), the more I miss the small gifts of grace given to me each day. If only in the hum of my washing machine, the musty autumn breeze on my neck, the mud in my hands and under my fingernails, God is gifting me with more than I deserve. He sings his love song to me and twines my life with grace-gifts that I only need to receive. He says to me, "See, see, you are the one my soul loves. I am here. I am with you. I am caring for you. I am loving you." </div>
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It is a sweet thing to thank him. It is bitter to begrudge him what I do not have.</div>
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<br />
<b>Poverty is part of my identity.</b> I found myself thinking the other night in the car as I drove a long drive home about Psalm 40, which ends: "As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me." I was surprised to remember that my condition is not "poor for a time" but "poor for all time." I am poor and needy. I have nothing to bring before my Savior. I have nothing to offer. I deserve nothing. I need everything. I am dependent on my Lord for salvation and life. Each day I breathe because breath is given to me. Each day I am saved because Jesus has claimed me. I cannot hope to ever be anything but humble, yet the Lord takes thought for me. How can I truly think I want for anything, when the riches of Christ have been given to me? And how can I think I deserve to live better, when my very soul is poor? I can only pray that God will give me humility to see myself for what I am and live in thankfulness that in spite of this, he has named me and made me his own. </div>
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Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-60559046929854662402012-10-09T14:16:00.001-07:002012-10-09T14:16:21.810-07:00Apple Picking!On Saturday, we decided to spend our afternoon apple-picking. It was first time experience :)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely apples</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tiny bag for filling with as many apples as possible :)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84FETZvXcaDYGihmTTxx14ZcWreQ3I84WCeyFCKV5Mns1XhzoStdXyU5c93VvQR4QG_BJmcJWhNmdgvaabG92Bgc4xbZDkQBHKJn6v2OsVJXVtEdXOgmgsFvAIFA239xo9qT5LrQD3vg/s1600/P1020510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84FETZvXcaDYGihmTTxx14ZcWreQ3I84WCeyFCKV5Mns1XhzoStdXyU5c93VvQR4QG_BJmcJWhNmdgvaabG92Bgc4xbZDkQBHKJn6v2OsVJXVtEdXOgmgsFvAIFA239xo9qT5LrQD3vg/s400/P1020510.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUTe9K3NZCCyr6beCdzZcLgXJIa-zF1i0g2k-BEE7Yryk0l1AhA8bYwZ5Yidi7lZtPwCeUG0YpCc3eGDdAzeaGGwP7jv05OJCnxbu807zM6uQ3GTKzEGDuyzdFhkVNYqQLYGEej6cpMc/s1600/P1020517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUTe9K3NZCCyr6beCdzZcLgXJIa-zF1i0g2k-BEE7Yryk0l1AhA8bYwZ5Yidi7lZtPwCeUG0YpCc3eGDdAzeaGGwP7jv05OJCnxbu807zM6uQ3GTKzEGDuyzdFhkVNYqQLYGEej6cpMc/s400/P1020517.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning Temecula sunset. Sat in our car on our street just to look at it.</td></tr>
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-63995004703948868242012-09-24T15:10:00.001-07:002012-09-24T15:21:15.700-07:00Life of Pi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNNfm_RNk7vnNGZDWOT9Jzvz-713NWLahd2xO5nm_TmTGv1UeR5Li1QsJzHBU-p8FoJd6fAbKW1-9HKLlI1GWnQw6ENzUPZ7oRuPb_z0wSt7QXIW6p2UkeYMj3o1tLWuEyQS7stbXOWM/s1600/LifeOfPi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNNfm_RNk7vnNGZDWOT9Jzvz-713NWLahd2xO5nm_TmTGv1UeR5Li1QsJzHBU-p8FoJd6fAbKW1-9HKLlI1GWnQw6ENzUPZ7oRuPb_z0wSt7QXIW6p2UkeYMj3o1tLWuEyQS7stbXOWM/s320/LifeOfPi.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This, friends, is a book recommendation. If you haven't read Life of Pi, by Yann Martel, you should. I read it for the first time this summer and, after plodding through the first couple of chapters, was completely captivated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Some straight information (in case you're on of those people who just wants to know the basic plot): This is a story about a boy growing up in India, whose father runs a zoo. This is a story about a boy who grows up to be a man who loves religion (he practices three!). This is a story about a boy who is shipwrecked and winds up on a lifeboat with a hyena, an orangutang, a zebra, and a tiger. This is a story about survival. This is a wild adventure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">(Ok, that was more or less facts right?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A bit of persuasion (in case you want to know what I thought about the book): The story starts, "This book was born as I was hungry." (It's in the author's note...read that first, even if you're the sort of person who skips over things that say "Author's Note.") I think this book is about hunger. It spends a lot of time dealing with physical hunger, since this boy is stranded on a lifeboat for over seven months, and is in general trying to avoid being eaten by the tiger on board with him. Martel makes you think about what it must be like to be so hungry you would eat anything. Anything. The madness of survival in the midst of starvation. Pi is driven to animalistic measures as his stomach yearns for life. But this book is about a lot more than physical hunger. This is a story about hungering for something more. Religious hunger, you might say, although I'm not sure that quite captures it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The key phrase of the book is: "I have a story that will make you believe in God." What kind of hope would you have for a story to convince you there is a God? I think we often think stories make us wish there was a God; they don't make us believe there is a God. But, we underestimate the power of story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I think what Martel has to say could be taken a couple of different ways. It could either be that it doesn't matter if what we believe is "true", so long as it serves a greater purpose, OR that we are made for something more--joy maybe? I think perhaps Martel means the first thing, but persuaded me of the second. In the story, Pi adopts three different religions: Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam. Each one moves him in a different way. Each one draws from a different part of his soul. Religion is not necessarily about which one is "true," but about the aspects of truth they all have. Perhaps, they all lead to the same thing. Perhaps, they are all different ways of looking at the same story. Pi is against "dry yeastless factuality" and for "the better story." "What moves you?," you can almost imagine him asking you. "You must believe something. Will you settle for the dry and lifeless?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Martel writes: "Words of divine consciousness: moral exaltation; lasting feelings of elevation, elation, joy; a quickening of the moral sense, which strikes one as more important than an intellectual understanding of things...An intellect confounded yet a trusting sense of presence and of ultimate purpose." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">At least atheism, according to Pi, believes in <i>something</i>--requiring a leap of faith--while agnosticism, which chooses to doubt everything, winds up with nothing. "[T]he agnostic," Pi says, "if he stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, might...to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Reading this book made me wonder, Is that all there is? A better story? Lots of good stories? Stories you choose to believe because the alternative is too much to handle? Stories that move you and reveal parts of the truth, but perhaps all ultimately made of the same cloth? Lewis and Tolkien did not think so. While Martel creates a dichotomy between "feelings of elevation, elation, joy" and "an intellectual understanding of things," the Christian story unites them. Feeling and fact are harmonious in the Gospel. C.S. Lewis writes, "The heart of Christianity is a myth which is
also a fact. The old myth of the Dying God, <i>without
ceasing to be myth</i>, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to
the earth of history. It <i>happens</i>—at a
particular date, in a particular place, followed by definable historical
circumstances.” The Gospel is a holistic story, requiring both an imaginative and a reasonable response. Lewis says, <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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heaven and earth: Perfect Myth and Perfect Fact: claiming not only our love and
our obedience, but also our wonder and delight, addressed to the savage, the
child, and the poet in each one of us no less than to the moralist, the
scholar, and the philosopher.”God calls us to receive the Gospel both as myth (and thus with joy) and as history (thus as truth). </span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />The reason I loved Life of Pi is because it reminded me that I love a story that is somewhat wild with imagination. I love the hero who lives in spite of impossible circumstances. I love to feel my soul jostle within me as I long for worlds unknown to me. We all do. It's why we choose the "better story." But we don't choose it because it doesn't matter and the other option is too boring. We choose it because we were made for it. We were made for something more. We were made for wildness and beauty and joy. And we were made to find this in something mind-blowingly true. </span>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">If this book is to make you believe in God, it is simply because it will convince you that you want something more because you were made for something more. And, unlike Pi, I don't think it will really satisfy us unless it<i> is</i> true. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span>Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-11221922128242511992012-09-05T08:41:00.000-07:002012-09-05T08:41:35.971-07:00Seminary Wife Reporting for DutyAdrian has officially started seminary. And since it's seminary, it took about 3 seconds to have massive amounts of homework and reading assigned. Somehow, that little fact didn't quiiite compute in my mind last week, so when Adrian came home from his first day of classes, I was excited to celebrate, talk about them, hang out, and he was freaked out and ready to study all night. Needless to say, that night didn't go so well.<br />
<br />
But now, Adrian is at his fourth day of classes, and I've got a couple things I've realized I need to figure out for the these next couple of years. 1) How to entertain myself, and 2) How to get Adrian to remember his lunch. <br />
<br />
Starting with number 2 first: I opened the fridge this morning and for the third time, found Adrian lunch sitting in the fridge exactly where I put it after packing it the night before. I find this somewhat hilarious, since Adrian has been packing and taking his lunch for months to work, but somehow the switch to a school has made him like food is unnecessary. This is a very interesting situation, folks, and I'm quite confuzzled by it.<br />
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Back to number 1: I work from home, so my days have already been spent almost entirely by myself. I wake up, I walk, I read, I work, I take care of the house, run errands, make dinner, wait for my husband to come home. But now, while we get some time together when he comes home, he then needs to study for a while and I don't have much interest in spending more time alone. So... I'm trying to figure that situation out. So far, someone has kindly suggested I use that time in the evenings to talk to people on the phone and catch up on correspondence, which I somehow had not thought of and was a welcome idea. Any more? I feel like I'm going to have a lot of time to myself these days... of course, you're always welcome to keep me company :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNONiK6Hf32byyT0M5E3S0RVGrGH9S0TCYcsQt5dGv92pGdGaoI2D2OIfNPsv8MaEP_AiZkXJ2wRB1WAU0UqS2VUOoKpJq4Kv5IWCngwSwyx7PKnA_8_-3HjMA-rRd5OqGga2zBCulBJ8/s1600/Picture0905120820_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNONiK6Hf32byyT0M5E3S0RVGrGH9S0TCYcsQt5dGv92pGdGaoI2D2OIfNPsv8MaEP_AiZkXJ2wRB1WAU0UqS2VUOoKpJq4Kv5IWCngwSwyx7PKnA_8_-3HjMA-rRd5OqGga2zBCulBJ8/s400/Picture0905120820_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Balloon above our driveway yesterday morning. </td></tr>
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-15917482603363666452012-08-24T14:25:00.000-07:002012-08-24T15:06:48.779-07:00Sneak-a-Peak! Our new home is almost tamed into submission (except for the chaotic laundry room). Took a few (horrible) pictures that I thought I would share...these are some parts of our house that make me happiful :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu6zvcxhbjUa3t1LRHDINCyCKXKbgUDDiyjriOEOvLonvVqdGhnWwfPPVd9xCvqz6e92HItgEW6wtnInSFPFqaYsbTQVQ11QAbfl573NZ_DP1ONrIUeaAK3B3WP1NkkCKVI8Q1YcPQoY/s1600/P1020461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu6zvcxhbjUa3t1LRHDINCyCKXKbgUDDiyjriOEOvLonvVqdGhnWwfPPVd9xCvqz6e92HItgEW6wtnInSFPFqaYsbTQVQ11QAbfl573NZ_DP1ONrIUeaAK3B3WP1NkkCKVI8Q1YcPQoY/s400/P1020461.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Built in shelves...tea...birthday tea cup.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new plethora of mason jars to organize my pantry in a small kitchen and keep the many ants out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely new piano and my newly found (in one of many boxes) piano books!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teal room...jewelry (hidden for the summer), an organized dresser.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new desk and little work area -- I'm sitting here now, posting this :)</td></tr>
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-87656217556777920982012-08-15T10:31:00.000-07:002012-08-15T10:31:42.255-07:00Moving MonsterI'm sitting in our new little apartment/guesthouse writing this, feeling a huge sense of accomplishment and relief, because this move has been a bit of a killer. Mainly because we decided/offered/madly signed ourselves up to paint this place before moving in.<br />
Did it need it? Desperately.<br />
Am I glad we did it? Our cozy yellow walls answer that question.<br />
Did it last several weeks and make us exhausted and take up all our evenings? Yes.<br />
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So, we're here. I'm sitting in a place of God's provision, painted by His grace, and it's good. God's gifts are good. Even when the kitchen is a bit small and I can't walk around without tripping on things right now.<br />
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But man, I am really glad it's done. That we're living here. Because moving does scary things to me. When we move, Rachel disappears and in her place is this crazy huge monster, swinging sharp claws and baring razor teeth.<br />
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Actually, that's not even really true. Because I don't disappear. The person who is scary and ugly is ME. And that's scariest and ugliest of all. All the sin that I try to so hard to stuff down into my crevices, to keep down there by plugging up the holes and swallowing quickly when it starts to crawl up my throat...it melts, begins to ooze, and then gains speeds and starts to shoot out of me. And pretty soon the creature who is me is running alongside the Devil instead of away from him. <br />
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Let's just say I'm glad you were spared this. And I'm sorry my husband wasn't.<br />
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All this is because moving takes everything I love, which is control, and turns it into everything I don't love, which is chaos. I am control freak. And when I don't know where things are, when things are exploding into and out of boxes, when my husband isn't moving according to my schedule, when it's mad hot and a tool box almost falls on my foot, you see who I really am. I think I have life under control, but I have nothing together. I can't even control my own SIN! I am needy in the worst sort of way. <br />
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Today I'm amazed by the Gospel once again. Last night, Adrian and I ate our first dinner in our new house, and as we sat talking about the Catechism question we're working through, we were reminded by the gift of a Redeemer. There is only ONE Redeemer. Everyone else claims to point you to the Way. Jesus is the Way. Everyone else claims to show you the way to save yourself. Jesus saves.<br />
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And I really can't help but think of Lewis and Tolkien who knew that in a lot of ways, the Gospel story doesn't make sense to those who don't get stories-- who haven't felt desperate by an inevitable doom and amazed by the happy ending. Wonder. The Gospel also doesn't make sense unless we know it's the TRUE story. The story that happened here, where we walk on the dead grass and feel the water mist our faces. Here where we run to Target and paint our houses. Jesus came. God Himself stepped down into the world and said, "You're desperate; I'm here to save you." Story of stories.<br />
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It's a good day, folks. I am out of control and I've got a Savior beyond belief. I weep.<br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-37523328133377447862012-07-18T08:54:00.000-07:002012-07-18T08:54:01.529-07:00Movin' and Shakin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This last weekend we took a little trip all the way up to Bakersfield (now a good 3 1/2 or 4 hours away) and spent it kind of like this: </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Packing and unpacking</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admiring the large windows</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wishing for this kitchen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BBQing (and admiring the nice porta potty)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating the first meal to be eaten in my parents new home</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a late night jaunt to Dewars (I've been promising to take Adrian for a while)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearly enjoying Bakersfield's best ice cream</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The last couple of days have have looked a little more like this:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taping</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Testing the paint -- just to see what it would look like and imagine that purple wall covered up</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhit-HlLJyS2tTUQ6oz0mMXtCF4uHfafwOW57u_2LIJ8HXYPNPKQbMI9Q1hhsV2-ey1VtuaL1gO8tssa2NHhJ33Av7RrP7Z-TUgG9TaixpjmScFDR282Ir_Qn2eSyaJr3AMytHL8_9I_T8/s1600/P1020390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhit-HlLJyS2tTUQ6oz0mMXtCF4uHfafwOW57u_2LIJ8HXYPNPKQbMI9Q1hhsV2-ey1VtuaL1gO8tssa2NHhJ33Av7RrP7Z-TUgG9TaixpjmScFDR282Ir_Qn2eSyaJr3AMytHL8_9I_T8/s400/P1020390.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admiring our work</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh814OkkVec7hU_3I8SAPB4F0qYbzHyqDEWwPtqFnYCeHafxtvs1wkBfUat32oQCMS03qGe-kfrhOwdevLLU-_a8BFjwvZ8jcK14pt1cRD0VCBmKculLJSqt4-XDxUUJjfTKd8Pdx6ihX0/s1600/P1020393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh814OkkVec7hU_3I8SAPB4F0qYbzHyqDEWwPtqFnYCeHafxtvs1wkBfUat32oQCMS03qGe-kfrhOwdevLLU-_a8BFjwvZ8jcK14pt1cRD0VCBmKculLJSqt4-XDxUUJjfTKd8Pdx6ihX0/s400/P1020393.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Man, so pumped about this room. (Sorry for the horrible night time lighting)</td></tr>
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That's it. More taping and painting to come. We've got some road yet to cover. But it's so nice to be working on our future little home.<br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-85909121533390313322012-07-18T08:31:00.000-07:002012-07-18T08:34:34.035-07:00Heaps of BlessingWell, I just uploaded a bunch of pictures from the last couple of weeks and found an assortment of memories. Thought I'd share a few:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9thZ_UF5XOcDORYyhJSsnZvJYo1yhy701m7bl2Mmv2keRvxqkVLlRFNZPz7wg7zg7e8rBXP5FxHdmTejz5NcnAi49wr1gd08w0eWIbtdxII9UEFvTg7R7pRXgOz7hkpHhUZeTuT1FNY/s1600/P1020351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9thZ_UF5XOcDORYyhJSsnZvJYo1yhy701m7bl2Mmv2keRvxqkVLlRFNZPz7wg7zg7e8rBXP5FxHdmTejz5NcnAi49wr1gd08w0eWIbtdxII9UEFvTg7R7pRXgOz7hkpHhUZeTuT1FNY/s400/P1020351.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer sunset...can't get enough</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH6GbA3dkTZMdl99m-pVTplIH-mQib4l8cD4_zbCLnTZFo9dt1ASHLNZJClrgfVLl5sAFJ_V5KFJ2spKn40k-GKmHCSpXgjvOJfPLXDAqegHtO48sa4L_9yO-uRwGaM_t1TjXcNKkpiA/s1600/P1020352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRH6GbA3dkTZMdl99m-pVTplIH-mQib4l8cD4_zbCLnTZFo9dt1ASHLNZJClrgfVLl5sAFJ_V5KFJ2spKn40k-GKmHCSpXgjvOJfPLXDAqegHtO48sa4L_9yO-uRwGaM_t1TjXcNKkpiA/s400/P1020352.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front porch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXB_t0WFDNpEHGe2mUHtfcawd8Yci4Wvz0YAcz8IuXwA6KnxyRbIb-BwXOy00li5t3zep71faqr9_UYHXMpaY2In52Hr5Fp9wW-d2DuPD0NpCN40_HTc5UtPrSvp3ESoKl6Vbh7zOsRX0/s1600/P1020353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXB_t0WFDNpEHGe2mUHtfcawd8Yci4Wvz0YAcz8IuXwA6KnxyRbIb-BwXOy00li5t3zep71faqr9_UYHXMpaY2In52Hr5Fp9wW-d2DuPD0NpCN40_HTc5UtPrSvp3ESoKl6Vbh7zOsRX0/s400/P1020353.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a nice place</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfg6fyQjOLoS_C1et07GptPOcwFdAoIBKxQool5Wuubb99Tek_oHn9yltyqBwVr-fGgi4JdK2kv-T03Alc601tBFrNJYPHj2xK2dnMCVbqqRAq2sj5UhfsLA5XyaYjdlc0seam0x12W7k/s1600/P1020356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfg6fyQjOLoS_C1et07GptPOcwFdAoIBKxQool5Wuubb99Tek_oHn9yltyqBwVr-fGgi4JdK2kv-T03Alc601tBFrNJYPHj2xK2dnMCVbqqRAq2sj5UhfsLA5XyaYjdlc0seam0x12W7k/s400/P1020356.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends (with wild looks about them)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcsgwiNDhHMzzAQR6IEORzFVRptXiO4gXfBboyBa0HQCdL4qLClx9NEdG_5GkE69ckaDTA9eUgR9uXxuVJXfbj9znBEgwyAzLqd2BtczPIGue7imY1_IxOkcafmYemvaIr8UIyyCsyvCA/s1600/P1020357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcsgwiNDhHMzzAQR6IEORzFVRptXiO4gXfBboyBa0HQCdL4qLClx9NEdG_5GkE69ckaDTA9eUgR9uXxuVJXfbj9znBEgwyAzLqd2BtczPIGue7imY1_IxOkcafmYemvaIr8UIyyCsyvCA/s400/P1020357.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our 4th of July wear :)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkwNXHLtnOk0ylO6MZkJyoKeaK8zVj13ilw2mesh2DPkiCpirj2XajIEHKrAqhFDi0SU5_6X-S9SUaZC5iiBLmYhLoZF4o6IhoEOM1bIUSVuUKIrqcqa2apFZho1dZbeNLzpNd7SMpnc/s1600/P1020359.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkwNXHLtnOk0ylO6MZkJyoKeaK8zVj13ilw2mesh2DPkiCpirj2XajIEHKrAqhFDi0SU5_6X-S9SUaZC5iiBLmYhLoZF4o6IhoEOM1bIUSVuUKIrqcqa2apFZho1dZbeNLzpNd7SMpnc/s400/P1020359.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across the street one morning!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXy5HUzF2vhyphenhyphenkT_9Gxsv9Jo-ngQEBRgMtd_Smp9DkOkS4S-5hw-7XqQrB1_V8kZcFvwnH7aNz_S6VtFD7fabvZDYJ4Rz979zqjy8abvQuwGBdUX7qkz5x1ArqxnHBg7KNrG1wIHzuZtc8/s1600/P1020362.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXy5HUzF2vhyphenhyphenkT_9Gxsv9Jo-ngQEBRgMtd_Smp9DkOkS4S-5hw-7XqQrB1_V8kZcFvwnH7aNz_S6VtFD7fabvZDYJ4Rz979zqjy8abvQuwGBdUX7qkz5x1ArqxnHBg7KNrG1wIHzuZtc8/s400/P1020362.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrian called me to tell me to look outside :) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAExkt9GixYjqzhMM4BXBJecIfhX7Opy5MF9hxcJytWI9J3PXBfIk11-g1LpMJp_hOpJv2eB4VFlnKLrD8XvnkY14U8taY_wjxzUiVWW_Sm1owyMFh6OrNW5zU-8T0bTk51hD_F12zIe8/s1600/P1020366.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAExkt9GixYjqzhMM4BXBJecIfhX7Opy5MF9hxcJytWI9J3PXBfIk11-g1LpMJp_hOpJv2eB4VFlnKLrD8XvnkY14U8taY_wjxzUiVWW_Sm1owyMFh6OrNW5zU-8T0bTk51hD_F12zIe8/s400/P1020366.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks farther away than it was</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSCnlgJDmr5de_DnrJnutbCkQ2BrCv6y37rC_XgCRBz2kURcqzKz991qtaTAZt2tDH4OrXrSrl700EVDMn8hW8yrEqmW1tSfkSZ_yROq3Npc6Dfr0bPEidm0Z0tiH_NOtv9zL9RWAKiU/s1600/P1020368.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSCnlgJDmr5de_DnrJnutbCkQ2BrCv6y37rC_XgCRBz2kURcqzKz991qtaTAZt2tDH4OrXrSrl700EVDMn8hW8yrEqmW1tSfkSZ_yROq3Npc6Dfr0bPEidm0Z0tiH_NOtv9zL9RWAKiU/s400/P1020368.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah having some birthday relaxation</td></tr>
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</tbody></table>Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-55557430043169724072012-07-13T09:04:00.003-07:002012-07-13T14:05:46.442-07:00The HuntOur car struggled to make it's way to the top of hill, i.e. incredibly steep driveway. We still couldn't see the house, just as we hadn't been able to spot it on our drive-bys. As the front of the Honda crested the driveway, we stopped. There before us sat what one might term shacks. They looked wooden. They looked...tilted. They looked hilarious. "We have to go back," Adrian decided. "Too late," I said, pointing to what we assumed was the owner standing at the top of the driveway, waving.<br />
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Struggling not to be consumed by laughter, we drove slowly towards the man, wondering how we could seriously do this. Turns out it was a bit difficult. We climbed the rickety stairs (the hand railing moved in my hand), up to the apartment above the garage. It was large, something several of the places we had seen had not been. But it was not much of anything else.<br />
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We quickly looked through the bedroom and bathroom, as I evaluated things in my mind. It could work, I thought, with some help. It needed paint, new blinds, new light fixtures, (new stairs)...I walked into the kitchen and noticed the stove was duct taped (duct taped!). I worked to keep a straight face as I asked, "Does the stove work?" "On and off," was the the reply. "But I just bought this new microwave grill," he said as he pulled it out to show me. Much to my surprise it literally was a microwave and a grill. "But does the oven work?" "Well...there's this grill...And let me show you the storage area!"<br />
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We followed him down those stairs once more and looked for some sort of storage unit. "It's right there, hold on," we were told. Waiting, laughter was struggling not to explode from my lips. It couldn't wait much longer once I turned around and the man was holding a cordless drill, going to town on the screws holding up large pieces of plywood on the side of the garage. Turn out they concealed the "storage unit" and he could even "lock it back up" for us, by re-screwing the plywood I assumed. This, friends, is what you get for going to look at places listed on Craig's List as "rustic."<br />
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Thankfully, our story has a happy ending. But it set us up to be a bit cynical. We had been praying for a little place we could live that would be affordable, would have a place I could garden and have a piano, would have enough room and storage for all our things, would have places for us to go on walks, and would let us have people over to our house. We had seen several places off Craig's List that were fine, but not quite right either in terms of price or size or location. We had also looked at apartments, which seemed like they would work.<br />
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And then one night we went to look at yet another random Craig's List posting that couldn't send us pictures, but wasn't too far from us. We drove up and, again, Adrian said, let's turn back. The driveway was beat up, the house looked like a mobile home. It wouldn't be what we wanted. But it was. It turns out, even though the house is older, it's clean and kept up (necessary repairs are made and things have been replaced!), it's got a good amount of storage (cupboards, shelves, laundry room storage, bathroom cabinets), it's on two and half acres (there's a place for me to garden, there's fruit trees and animals), and most of all, the lady who owns it is extremely kind -- and a Christian!<br />
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We're quite excited as we have picked out paint and are going to paint the place next week and move in at the end of the month. We have no idea what it will be like to live there, but we know God has kindly heard our prayers and we look forward to seeing what he has in store for us here. Thankfully, the hunt is over.<br />
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P.S. Feel free to come help us paint or move if you have some extra energy! :)Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-49811097883282293742012-07-11T14:28:00.001-07:002012-07-13T14:04:00.320-07:00SometimesSometimes grace is full and sweet, like the first bite of a ripe peach where you find your teeth sinking deep and look up sheepishly with juice trickling down your chin.<br />
Sometimes grace is sharp and salty, like the way tears cut their way across your flushed cheeks and your tired mind can trace their path and taste their deposits at the corner of your mouth.<br />
Sometimes grace is both, twined together, entangled.<br />
Sometimes you look up and you think, <i>The goodness of God is too good. </i>And it stabs itself into your stomach and makes you gasp, even as tears rush down your face because you know, <i>I don't deserve it. </i><br />
Sometimes you wonder how God could really have answered your prayer, simply because you asked it. And sometimes you wonder why he didn't answer your other prayer, the one you wept and slept. <br />
Sometimes you open your hands, slowly, weakly, tired of clutching them and squeezing--suffocating--the flame of joy because you're so intent on holding on to it--protecting it. Like the little girl who smiles ghoulishly into the fish tank, anxious for her next victim.<br />
Sometimes you stand on the top of the hill, gasping, aching, looking at the sun meandering its way behind the hills and you know<i> fire--grace--gifts</i>. <br />
Sometimes you hug someone and you think <i>Redeemer, we need you. </i><br />
Sometimes redemption is deep waters, enveloping, swallowing, dragging to the bottom claiming Him for their own so you could stumble, collapse on dry ground. Taste sand and know joy. Wild.Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-92123876537507558062012-06-20T15:35:00.002-07:002012-06-20T15:35:49.134-07:00Anniversary CelebrationSo thankful for one year of marriage! To celebrate, we headed up to Big Bear Thursday evening after work, hung out all day Friday, and came back Saturday afternoon. It was perfect. We had a cute little cabin equipped with a kitchen, so we could cook all our own food, went for a night walk by the lake and stood looking at the soft-moving reflections of the setting sun, went kayaking on in the late morning sun, hiked an "easy" trail (made difficult only by altitude), watched Casablanca (Adrian for the first time!), and read, read, and read some more. Loveliness. God has been so good to us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGL5dEKzU1VPB1eAjVWK5dqZACP7QaZ_-BTkhy9946WbyyHx1_wZ5F_3gYgKeDu9xwMTJcnzNuf6qh0KLqVO_BzTDHHedYPxrAaLgCAdaYC0WnMErLbvfx5W0hfaMAyLs-uQwfTUWQesg/s1600/P1020336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGL5dEKzU1VPB1eAjVWK5dqZACP7QaZ_-BTkhy9946WbyyHx1_wZ5F_3gYgKeDu9xwMTJcnzNuf6qh0KLqVO_BzTDHHedYPxrAaLgCAdaYC0WnMErLbvfx5W0hfaMAyLs-uQwfTUWQesg/s400/P1020336.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kayaking on Big Bear Lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRMWvVvQiHbdo28UGXrVtqd6H881mFUVxPVdjzBNiX_UFLdycevDNItziWoUJDxNqSPWw2R8h5eldifgZf-BVsLqXgx9ThdF-aftRIrLKN-ZBB8Z5zb3GXxeExtCp_M36kx6ur56YTpk/s1600/P1020338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRMWvVvQiHbdo28UGXrVtqd6H881mFUVxPVdjzBNiX_UFLdycevDNItziWoUJDxNqSPWw2R8h5eldifgZf-BVsLqXgx9ThdF-aftRIrLKN-ZBB8Z5zb3GXxeExtCp_M36kx6ur56YTpk/s400/P1020338.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonderful day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QKhKQlvHUqel4Vd6MzgpHaterUtJMv7zbIiyK_Tdvhp1WfNcOHB33D7CeI-tbz4esGxfkaSIUG1ghV-eI0IlZ3W6gqts2vDOSXvvhl_aM1h72TXv5ZglgMdri9l1Sl6GnlDAD86Tss8/s1600/P1020340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0QKhKQlvHUqel4Vd6MzgpHaterUtJMv7zbIiyK_Tdvhp1WfNcOHB33D7CeI-tbz4esGxfkaSIUG1ghV-eI0IlZ3W6gqts2vDOSXvvhl_aM1h72TXv5ZglgMdri9l1Sl6GnlDAD86Tss8/s400/P1020340.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little cabin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuen5Zk0IWXs3x2WPrRsAqW-epihcOVT9GOPyKr3GoYF2bpe8kVjhEwU0ZSEdWheFNlSRDMTerVG-9jwfexOJCGaV8UmJoc_9o6ixl92wOzhYZFnup2xgA8G-aXXqUrMRgRO6tY7Nc9vc/s1600/P1020342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuen5Zk0IWXs3x2WPrRsAqW-epihcOVT9GOPyKr3GoYF2bpe8kVjhEwU0ZSEdWheFNlSRDMTerVG-9jwfexOJCGaV8UmJoc_9o6ixl92wOzhYZFnup2xgA8G-aXXqUrMRgRO6tY7Nc9vc/s400/P1020342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adrian grilling our anniversary steaks.</td></tr>
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On our actual anniversary, we headed to Petco Park for a Padre's game (my first!) with the Reilly family. (We didn't purposefully plan to go on our anniversary, it was just the only day that worked for all of us :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tmsseJxz5UKj4A9nyeLzQo2xmMhV3Mrsuv1_BYAAuQP2qTW4a0QBk_c-b7pjEeKBW6eHvB4Xjj1DD0hjYzFqp3wmu_piKeRWWj2_Z63etPzTqtvhXphYnhVv_mvyAl_UkU1PKVxq2lE/s1600/P1020348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tmsseJxz5UKj4A9nyeLzQo2xmMhV3Mrsuv1_BYAAuQP2qTW4a0QBk_c-b7pjEeKBW6eHvB4Xjj1DD0hjYzFqp3wmu_piKeRWWj2_Z63etPzTqtvhXphYnhVv_mvyAl_UkU1PKVxq2lE/s400/P1020348.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Petco Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcrDVvizH7nE9v6FQPmoyTrU3BqshFpurJMYUnoAC39EhhgJKuCVT0wtlPVB4mOLZb5sHvw3ojgUX3Yc6O9HOGZ0_n6NeFlgEe4kUh2W1TuA1yDo9wQAHenQ8AkJrk1SEpY_H2ca4pGc/s1600/P1020349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcrDVvizH7nE9v6FQPmoyTrU3BqshFpurJMYUnoAC39EhhgJKuCVT0wtlPVB4mOLZb5sHvw3ojgUX3Yc6O9HOGZ0_n6NeFlgEe4kUh2W1TuA1yDo9wQAHenQ8AkJrk1SEpY_H2ca4pGc/s400/P1020349.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the Reillys...some of whom are looking at the camera.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCDsxT4o7o-Qjo3atJiyz5pwaWGCDW3bNHCrQXh2tF0H6bzwXtS9JdVBNshAj5OpXYyVwId_Yw7Y3nV1qU6jJBEoxaQlBu2vfmPmXmMlSp30IVIn3g8EipIc3gsm4tIYCmEhM-I2R3QI/s1600/P1020350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCDsxT4o7o-Qjo3atJiyz5pwaWGCDW3bNHCrQXh2tF0H6bzwXtS9JdVBNshAj5OpXYyVwId_Yw7Y3nV1qU6jJBEoxaQlBu2vfmPmXmMlSp30IVIn3g8EipIc3gsm4tIYCmEhM-I2R3QI/s400/P1020350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy to be sitting under a warm blanket on a cold night, watching baseball.</td></tr>
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Oh, one wonderful part of this weekend that I haven't added yet is that I discovered a lovely new cd that I love! "Jenny and Tyler" are a husband and wife duo who sing fantastic music -- check 'em out!<br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-82265262510058177262012-06-12T08:37:00.001-07:002012-06-12T08:39:00.365-07:00Safari SaturdayThis past Saturday Adrian and I headed to the Wild--I mean, Safari Park with Mike and Lauren, who now live in CA! I had only been to the Safari Park once before, and I mainly remembered it being extremely boring, but this time around we were in the company of good friends :) Really thankful for half price tickets and a long day walking around in the sun, for picnic lunches, the amazing variety of animals God has created, and for getting to see a cheetah run (amazing!). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDw10zihHcehhPn7JkeC3i-ssNHqlGDl9T9UeNq7Vb0gs_hJb_gUP9vYiYDGPYcz4RT9MuT-u6B1AygODhrv86SFrL1K4Xmbsimb6D05FcSADxoSQe4UlppIYgh6iB66LFgKB9u66Ea0A/s1600/P1020323.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDw10zihHcehhPn7JkeC3i-ssNHqlGDl9T9UeNq7Vb0gs_hJb_gUP9vYiYDGPYcz4RT9MuT-u6B1AygODhrv86SFrL1K4Xmbsimb6D05FcSADxoSQe4UlppIYgh6iB66LFgKB9u66Ea0A/s320/P1020323.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lion happens to be the only animal I took a picture of.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-18365893954138562192012-06-02T16:44:00.001-07:002012-06-02T16:47:01.118-07:00Sunset Lovin'It the smell of hay mixed with puffs of dust kicked up around our feet, sticking to sheen of sweat around our calves that made me exclaim, "This reminds me of going to the fair!" I then proceeded to relay all of my childhood memories from the Kern County Fair to Adrian as we walked the distance from our car to the Temecula Balloon and Wine Festival.<br />
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It felt like a fair inside also. Vast numbers of people, cowboys hats everywhere, booths and games, food stands (funnel cakes!), and loud music. We plowed our way through the people, wandered around, collected free tooth products (which Adrian pulled out of his pocket later to show me...I convinced him not to floss his teeth), and finally plopped ourselves onto the grass behind several levels of fencing to watch Gloriana, Chris Cagle, and Phil Vasser.<br />
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Mainly, we were just there for the music. Mainly, we were just there for Gloriana.<br />
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But I have to say, Chris Cagle was probably better -- he had obviously been performing for a long time and Gloriana was still a little new and awkward.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CBpdkTQ8sd6nx0-fjTk1LHOeTlVvpQnIhCtEM3n4KfsBcH9QJc6ghavmm2NR6QQThMQbbtx-ZoE3kXaWL8Q9uQ618iSJV_VxUxwkQ7cK66nT7841xwrKWH6UCEoSLOMXnc3Y1eFHmK4/s1600/P1020288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6CBpdkTQ8sd6nx0-fjTk1LHOeTlVvpQnIhCtEM3n4KfsBcH9QJc6ghavmm2NR6QQThMQbbtx-ZoE3kXaWL8Q9uQ618iSJV_VxUxwkQ7cK66nT7841xwrKWH6UCEoSLOMXnc3Y1eFHmK4/s400/P1020288.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gloriana</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just chilling on the lawn, trying to avoid being stepped on by somewhat intoxicated folks.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZnDH86cpStyHyECptLA2oxHiKjICJuoWpQYBAVUHkDF1YEfftL4gC-YMQRzprc83mMDvN9jcU4sfocvx_UVOZhxfYcJjXc1dlVMhgSo1GRhqy0Q5IJ7rDqjBFOzelOxmgt14QZmaNe8/s1600/P1020306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ZnDH86cpStyHyECptLA2oxHiKjICJuoWpQYBAVUHkDF1YEfftL4gC-YMQRzprc83mMDvN9jcU4sfocvx_UVOZhxfYcJjXc1dlVMhgSo1GRhqy0Q5IJ7rDqjBFOzelOxmgt14QZmaNe8/s400/P1020306.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris Cagle</td></tr>
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After all this crazy fun, we headed to balloon glow--which, it turns out, is where they gather a bunch of hot air balloons on the lawn and light them up again the night sky. Huge. Beautiful. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3sOD7Quq0yz30qoWiDBZmpqY_Gbf3RhRSWomYiV7eIJliIhJingxT2oZC61cZwZswdt_fNzPN5Ry396kn-RS84-s3hHiBrzlAciys9nbSj7DO2BqK3MDVWapFa706HeirDrVCel5yvQ/s1600/P1020310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3sOD7Quq0yz30qoWiDBZmpqY_Gbf3RhRSWomYiV7eIJliIhJingxT2oZC61cZwZswdt_fNzPN5Ry396kn-RS84-s3hHiBrzlAciys9nbSj7DO2BqK3MDVWapFa706HeirDrVCel5yvQ/s400/P1020310.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUGZVl6OdebP7TYk_bvEITbfC6mpKmew4gccZVuRaB9wMHd7RtqHOApUds1M-rhzzkcjXq_nY9UIk9toWZ9p5j22gVkQKtqA4_GYOYkPo8zu2L-HsGDyCxdVVv0BVZ9An-etRsvYLWxo/s1600/P1020314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUGZVl6OdebP7TYk_bvEITbfC6mpKmew4gccZVuRaB9wMHd7RtqHOApUds1M-rhzzkcjXq_nY9UIk9toWZ9p5j22gVkQKtqA4_GYOYkPo8zu2L-HsGDyCxdVVv0BVZ9An-etRsvYLWxo/s400/P1020314.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After. </td></tr>
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Thanks Temecula for having your famous festival right next door to us! It was fun.Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-45069389525994551392012-05-31T17:47:00.005-07:002012-05-31T17:47:59.434-07:00Thursday Thrills<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0qlMh4ijTZbOkGhy9e60OxJ0oEvvNKa4_mbs8T-dGI3BXmnA0Va5eCbEPto8q1DUZR12a61PBHjnymalvjxoBqCGBDE45ykLWQQREifPwjvdNZio0PjmkqXtvG8w-GI_M5OvtybDyFo/s1600/P1020273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0qlMh4ijTZbOkGhy9e60OxJ0oEvvNKa4_mbs8T-dGI3BXmnA0Va5eCbEPto8q1DUZR12a61PBHjnymalvjxoBqCGBDE45ykLWQQREifPwjvdNZio0PjmkqXtvG8w-GI_M5OvtybDyFo/s320/P1020273.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completing a set</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUjAK3scHK-bXY7z1VJnMfBtt6Bxqo4YF6i6pRYD0WkF9bq8q6LBSv3GMK3jgnL7Vo16jbT0BQrWgZL4KUV1T57z7rYOqe2maF-FKPfDhYSQSAmmcqP1feg1s8EDs0cIF06JXf0t0Xxg/s1600/P1020280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUjAK3scHK-bXY7z1VJnMfBtt6Bxqo4YF6i6pRYD0WkF9bq8q6LBSv3GMK3jgnL7Vo16jbT0BQrWgZL4KUV1T57z7rYOqe2maF-FKPfDhYSQSAmmcqP1feg1s8EDs0cIF06JXf0t0Xxg/s320/P1020280.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Season's first raspberries and peaches</td></tr>
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-35007603302710441792012-05-30T08:33:00.003-07:002012-05-30T08:34:06.184-07:00Summer DaysIn case you hadn't heard from us, we're spending this summer on a vineyard. Housesitting, more or less, for just three months. Most of us our stuff is in storage and we're looking for a place to move come August.<br />
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But for three lovely months, we're living across from hills, running in the cool morning air, and watching the sunset.<br />
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The move was kind of (totally) crazy. I was really stubborn and didn't want to start packing up all of our stuff until I had to (wanting to enjoy every last possible moment in our first little home), but I kind of underestimated how soon "had to" kicked in. After Adrian being out of town for a week, Jana's graduation, sickness, and three days in Mexico, I sort of stumbled my way through packing for three days before the big move.<br />
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But we made it, thanks mainly to the help of the sisters-in-law (Jana and Lauren, who helped save me from my mess).<br />
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And now we're stumbling our way through someone else's stuff, and hoping lots of people come visit us out here this summer.<br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-51538193271268246772012-04-30T08:58:00.001-07:002012-04-30T08:58:58.843-07:00Book Club...need I say more?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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See this book? This is a book of lovely. This is a book that reminded me why I love to read. Why I get totally absorbed in a book and don't notice the time. Why characters often feel like my friends.<br />
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I'm sorry, I'm a book nerd!<br />
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This past Friday was the last book club I'll be able to attend while living in Riverside (we'll see if I'm able to make the trek at any point from Temecula), so I thought I'd share a little bit about this club that has been such a blessing to me these last 9 months.<br />
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You know when you move somewhere super random like Riverside, CA and don't know anyone? Well, that's what happened to me when I got married. Thankfully, some ladies from the church I attended in college -- just 20 min down the road -- opened their arms to me and invited me to their weekly Bible study and their monthly book club.<br />
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I remember the first book club I showed up at...I really didn't know what to expect. I had only read about half the book (if you get time to read "A Thousand Splendid Suns, it was one of the best books I've read), had gotten lost, and was feeling a little flustered. Later that night I told Adrian I wouldn't miss another one.<br />
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It's a haven for the book lover.<br />
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Imagine - a Friday night after a long week. Appetizers. Desserts. Wine. Pink drinks. A wonderful book to argue about. Everyone excited to talk about their favorite part.<br />
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It's kind of awesome.<br />
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I'm so thankful for this grace-gift of a book club. <br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-70445219280533522182012-04-26T09:13:00.002-07:002012-04-26T09:13:55.676-07:00The Creeping Vine of ChangeAs I sit here on my couch this morning, surrounded by still stacks of laundry calmly waiting to be put away, I'm thinking about change. More specifically, the change that is taking over my life, as it really can't help but do. I'm kind of amazed how how much I love and live for the slow the growth of my plants outside - faithfully watering each morning, exclaiming at first sprout, watching the unfurling of leaves, loving the stretching out of branches - but can't stand to see any measure of change unsettle my little world.<br />
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In about two weeks and two days, Adrian and I are moving. This first little apartment that so kindly agreed to be our home for our first year of marriage will no longer be ours. In about four months, Adrian will start seminary (Lord willing), and the next years of our life will be some of uncertainty, busyness, and not spending quite so much time together (actually that will start in about two weeks and four days when Adrian start commuting to work). I'm loathe to allow change in. I find that I face even small changes either by ignoring them or getting angry. Ann Voskamp says, "All these years, these angerings, these hardenings, this desire to control, I had thought I had to snap the hand closed to shield joy's fragile flame from the blasts. In a storm of struggles, I had tried to control the elements, clasp the fist tight so as to protect self and happiness. But palms curled into protective fists fill with darkness. I feel that sharply, even in this...and this realization in all its full emptiness: My own wild desire to <i>protect</i> my joy at all costs is the exact force that <i>kills</i> my joy."<br />
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Do you know this? Have you felt this? Are you experiencing this now? The irony of this statement kills me. When I fight to protect my joy, I kill it. No! I'm making myself joyful. Do you know what joy is?<br />
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The last two mornings I have gotten to Jeremiah 9, vs. 3 and stopped, not able to read more: "...for they proceed from evil to evil, and they do not know me, declares the Lord."<br />
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Do you know your Savior? Do you know who He is? This is what I asked myself this morning. Do you <i>know </i>God? Because He gave up everything for you, everything, enduring the cross, scorning its shame, for the joy set before him. The great joy. The joy of seeing the Father's face.<br />
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This morning I'm looking for glimpses of His face. Let me tell you a little bit of a different story.<br />
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In two weeks and two days, Adrian and I have the privilege of moving for three months to a small guesthouse on a vineyard. It's beautiful. I invite you to come stay with us this summer and enjoy it with us.<br />
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Adrian has just been awarded more than 50% of his seminary tuition at Westminster! What a gift.<br />
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I am in the midst of writing my second newsletter for the printing company I work for and it's my favorite part of my job. Not only this, but I get to take my job with me when we move because I work from home. So blessed.<br />
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God has just graced us with rain this morning and my plants outside are loving it! I took a moment to admire the way the raindrops hung on the leaves and right now I see the sun fighting through the clouds and making an appearance. <br />
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I have had the privilege this week of praying with my husband every day for our two sisters who are still in college and the school we love so dearly. Tomorrow morning I get the privilege of hearing my husband speak in chapel. I can't wait to hear him speak the Word of God.<br />
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What are the glimpses you see this morning? <br />
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<br />Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-53789256352175258302012-04-17T09:02:00.004-07:002012-04-17T09:41:00.303-07:00Across the SeaIt was pretty spontaneous. I said, "We should go somewhere!" And Adrian said, "Where?" On a whim we looked up ticket prices. We were surprised how small the numbers were. We said, "Maybe we really should go somewhere." So we did.<br /><br />A few short weeks later, we were on our way to Ireland. An Adventure. A Gift.<br />The funny thing is that somehow in the midst of packing, and last minute hotel-booking, and my incessant need for research, I think I forgot a couple of things. 1) It was a gift, 2) It wouldn't fulfill me.<br /><br />It sounds simple. But the first couple of days were really hard for me. I had said I would be carefree and adventurous, but when I insisted on walking until finding the pub I had my list that e <span style="font-style: italic;">needed</span> to visit, or when I walked up and down the street fearful of missing our bus, or when we actually did miss our bus the next day, or when we were standing in the rain being smashed by people trying to get a picture of who-knows-what parade float, I did not remember it was a gift. I remembered that I couldn't let things get out of control. That I had a plan. That my plan had a plan (probably). And then God totally blinded me with breathless beauty and tore me apart.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT27IKGgKTO4zXs4C5AB3yjslM9SYcaXDT2mNdx-agrjuOPntZIgDVS0nZXxwUxeh2xBI2sgO8RtNErA5WArEacMbB77cfKGK4_iDXAPzauW42HBAewJvd1ewfE8UcCF90IfuWmI2_2yM/s1600/P1010873.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT27IKGgKTO4zXs4C5AB3yjslM9SYcaXDT2mNdx-agrjuOPntZIgDVS0nZXxwUxeh2xBI2sgO8RtNErA5WArEacMbB77cfKGK4_iDXAPzauW42HBAewJvd1ewfE8UcCF90IfuWmI2_2yM/s320/P1010873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732410352279072594" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've been thinking about this trip today, because it seems to be the story of my life (the controlling planning anyway). Today I'm remembering the good gifts of our trip to Ireland.<br /><ul><li>A bed and breakfast in Dublin with lots of character (squeaky floors, small silver tea pots, long hallways, a bright blue door)</li><li>Wandering around Trinity College at night</li><li>Touring the Guinness Storehouse and learning all about the process of making beer</li><li>Eating fresh fish and chips on the wall outside of Christ's Church</li><li>A beautiful wooden pub with walls of old, colored beer bottles</li><li>Getting madly lost in the streets on Dublin</li><li>Eating traditional Irish stew (lamb stew to die for)</li><li>Hiking the national park - coming around the mountain bend and seeing the lakes laid out before us</li><li>Eating many, many Cliff Bars</li><li>A bus driver who gave us our own personal ride to where we wanted to go, since we had missed the only bus that day</li><li>Standing cramped inside an ancient building, seeing the way the light was made to penetrate the darkness</li><li>Long conversations on the bus, driving through the rain</li><li>Walking along narrow roads besides pastures</li><li>Morning light through glass doors</li><li>Hearing the Gospel proclaimed</li><li>Stopping to buy a picnic-worth of food</li><li>Driving through the sunshine, coming around the corner to see green hills laid out in splendor</li><li>A breath-taking walk, discovering a path along the lake, rainbows, sunsets over mountains</li><li>A long pub dinner and live Irish music</li><li>Fresh scones right out of the oven with jam and cream</li><li>Seascape - cliffs and jagged rocks, small ocean-side towns, running breathless in the rain around a deserted castle</li><li>A morning walk</li><li>Castle exploration</li><li>A hill-hike fulfillment, chasing sheep</li><li>(See all pictures on facebook)<br /></li></ul>I saw and felt how little all of this did to fulfill me. I realized that if I would just take time to be thankful, I would see the graces of God around me, even in California. But I am thankful for this trip. I am thankful for our adventures. For our conversations. For the people we met. For the beauty. For the beer. For the pictures. I will hold this trip dear in my heart.Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-92061350268561266352012-03-29T08:43:00.005-07:002012-03-30T13:59:57.120-07:00MorningsI love the way my husband slips out of the room every morning, early, and as I hear the door slip shut, my mind drifts back into a confused dream land. I hear the way the water turns on, an hour later, and my mind slowly creeps and crawls its way to an awake-fog, even though my body is still and my eyes are closed. Then drawers are opening and closing and arms slip around me and hold me tight, telling me to wake up. And as I lie there willing myself to come to clarity, husband makes coffee for me to tempt me out of the warm covers. I hear him cracking eggs and opening bread, preparing our morning meal. And as I stumble out to our small table, with the straight-backed chairs, I love the sound of his voice as it prays over our food and our day, even as my ears can barely distinguish the words, just the sound.<br /><br /> I love sitting on my couch--the tan one my husband carried up the steps before I was here and called to tell me about and sent me pictures of--listening to the steady ticking of the clock. It tells me that I am enveloped in stillness. Each soft tick quiets my groggy mind. And I sit, thankful for the Word of God, even as I drift on in thought. I find myself staring at the bright, trumpeting daffodils and small, purple blossoms and I'm glad for life-changing friendship and the person who taught me about the joy flowers can give to a chaotic home. Even in the midst of the mess, I taste beauty--the outside beauty, the kind that comes from sunshine and fresh dew and shoots that fight their way through the ground.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T__ZDWLDeRGg8kSfkRSGpSMpf2AmbauwfmAm8XkUB2WXoxYycx3TZxdMBGAkw15GCpHQ1oHHKkqRbaRYKQeAUhZZCTD9zN489XfgwN4hgGyuIH8Z3gBbTm9odxC7aI3P7euE08P9gT4/s1600/P1020169.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T__ZDWLDeRGg8kSfkRSGpSMpf2AmbauwfmAm8XkUB2WXoxYycx3TZxdMBGAkw15GCpHQ1oHHKkqRbaRYKQeAUhZZCTD9zN489XfgwN4hgGyuIH8Z3gBbTm9odxC7aI3P7euE08P9gT4/s320/P1020169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725797005625361746" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyJpelDFogK-VH2KDICoscAs6aBGl1J3SNTfX1NkITYKrjcHB0C6mDvNmaRmNjJdRdeMsULbdTx-mxc9mSMqY1VORHDaZWllr6m8rv-wq8oZwhW6L_f4MMe5pKsiSMCc_DRYubv4X4tk/s1600/P1020165.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTyJpelDFogK-VH2KDICoscAs6aBGl1J3SNTfX1NkITYKrjcHB0C6mDvNmaRmNjJdRdeMsULbdTx-mxc9mSMqY1VORHDaZWllr6m8rv-wq8oZwhW6L_f4MMe5pKsiSMCc_DRYubv4X4tk/s320/P1020165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725797643849647442" border="0" /></a><br /> I make sure my phone is near, because it's likely I'll get a text or a call from my husband, sometimes about what he heard on the radio, sometimes to say he loves me. And even though I'm not a morning person, I'm thankful for these mornings, looking out through my porch doors, reviving.Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12784788531578979.post-38546345276478541422012-02-29T09:08:00.006-08:002012-02-29T12:39:27.909-08:00House SittingI sit at the counter and my long legs dangle from the tall chair. My hand brings the small blue and white mug to my mouth, feeding it with cooling coffee, as my eyes pour over each word on the page. I pause.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4AfvEX1-GRC5xHHAo_SegbRnq2i6pcgjdYKp1BA627M0nTDJpnrQ00fRAuUbT1cMm8YVGdn93OurbmxTxbAsp6Z9kejcWAMCwgp7P3jpCdYXIkvB65tVvqDbpsc87MjdG26cLtlPOt4/s1600/P1010427.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4AfvEX1-GRC5xHHAo_SegbRnq2i6pcgjdYKp1BA627M0nTDJpnrQ00fRAuUbT1cMm8YVGdn93OurbmxTxbAsp6Z9kejcWAMCwgp7P3jpCdYXIkvB65tVvqDbpsc87MjdG26cLtlPOt4/s320/P1010427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714658809010109458" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I hear the soft ticking of the clock behind me, marking each passing second. I let my eyes focus where they blindly stared and I see the roads of lights making their path across the wall, hiding and illuminating the large blue and green painting. The beams hit the clouds.<br /><br />I think about how many hours I have spent in this home. Helping my best friend to maneuver her crutches, making breakfast, sitting out by the pool in the quiet of the morning. Plugging in my computer and situating myself at the study table for hours as I methodically typed each word of poetry paper. Laughing in the hot tub. Falling asleep trying to make it through West Side Story. Crying through Dead Poet's Society. Soaking up each jab and tease as the baby is passed around and Easter dinner is prepared. And the best of all: Walking through the glass enclosed room, the house exposed, and finding people hidden everywhere. Tea pot filled, tea cups prepared. Sandwiches waiting. Gifts piled up. Waiting for me. Waiting to celebrate my impending marriage.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Cx6tTHZTHZpmu68Lff_sR7rdsuzkhP8IEG9BHLUkrMN5dc8BRB2IIEO62X7HFcNiG-hEcyoiFfgtuba-YNglO7ND6GaGyPQ7HB1DTGIhsRl2K800tDEMQPtnNvGTICQkhuZe1QcdSOg/s1600/P1010429.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Cx6tTHZTHZpmu68Lff_sR7rdsuzkhP8IEG9BHLUkrMN5dc8BRB2IIEO62X7HFcNiG-hEcyoiFfgtuba-YNglO7ND6GaGyPQ7HB1DTGIhsRl2K800tDEMQPtnNvGTICQkhuZe1QcdSOg/s320/P1010429.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714659888727259570" border="0" /></a><br />I love the feeling of my sock-clothed feet padding, and occasionally sliding, across the tiled floor. I love the wooden ceiling, and the beams everywhere. I love the memories that I was welcomed into here. Invited to take part in. An open home--where light streams in from the skylights--was opened up to me. And today I just sit here, letting my fingers pluck away at the piano, wondering with Watts. "Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small."Adrian and Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16559330366794237495noreply@blogger.com0