I'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.
Did it need it? Desperately.
Am I glad we did it? Our cozy yellow walls answer that question.
Did it last several weeks and make us exhausted and take up all our evenings? Yes.
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.
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.
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.
Let's just say I'm glad you were spared this. And I'm sorry my husband wasn't.
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.
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.
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.
It's a good day, folks. I am out of control and I've got a Savior beyond belief. I weep.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Movin' and Shakin'
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:
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| Packing and unpacking |
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| Admiring the large windows |
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| Wishing for this kitchen |
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| BBQing (and admiring the nice porta potty) |
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| Eating the first meal to be eaten in my parents new home |
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| Taking a late night jaunt to Dewars (I've been promising to take Adrian for a while) |
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| Clearly enjoying Bakersfield's best ice cream |
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| Taping |
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| Testing the paint -- just to see what it would look like and imagine that purple wall covered up |
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| Admiring our work |
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| Man, so pumped about this room. (Sorry for the horrible night time lighting) |
Heaps of Blessing
Well, 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:
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| Summer sunset...can't get enough |
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| Front porch |
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| It's a nice place |
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| Friends (with wild looks about them) |
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| Our 4th of July wear :) |
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Across the street one morning!
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Friday, July 13, 2012
The Hunt
Our 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.
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.
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!"
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."
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.
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!
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.
P.S. Feel free to come help us paint or move if you have some extra energy! :)
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.
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!"
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."
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.
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!
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.
P.S. Feel free to come help us paint or move if you have some extra energy! :)
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sometimes
Sometimes 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.
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.
Sometimes grace is both, twined together, entangled.
Sometimes you look up and you think, The goodness of God is too good. And it stabs itself into your stomach and makes you gasp, even as tears rush down your face because you know, I don't deserve it.
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.
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.
Sometimes you stand on the top of the hill, gasping, aching, looking at the sun meandering its way behind the hills and you know fire--grace--gifts.
Sometimes you hug someone and you think Redeemer, we need you.
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.
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.
Sometimes grace is both, twined together, entangled.
Sometimes you look up and you think, The goodness of God is too good. And it stabs itself into your stomach and makes you gasp, even as tears rush down your face because you know, I don't deserve it.
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.
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.
Sometimes you stand on the top of the hill, gasping, aching, looking at the sun meandering its way behind the hills and you know fire--grace--gifts.
Sometimes you hug someone and you think Redeemer, we need you.
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.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Anniversary Celebration
So 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.
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 :)
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!
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| Kayaking on Big Bear Lake |
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| Wonderful day! |
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| Our little cabin |
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| Adrian grilling our anniversary steaks. |
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| Petco Park |
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| Some of the Reillys...some of whom are looking at the camera. |
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| Happy to be sitting under a warm blanket on a cold night, watching baseball. |
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Safari Saturday
This 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!).
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| This lion happens to be the only animal I took a picture of. |
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