Red Dirt Life | Personal

"and drivin' down the road
i get a feeling that i should have
been home yesterday, yesterday"
country roads - john denver

On the border of Logan and Lincoln County, forming the third point of a triangle with Meridian and Shiloh, is the forgettable "town" of Merrick.  The roads here are all numbered, not named.  780.  3300. 800.  105.  As orderly as geometry graph paper, the lines of the red dirt go straight, in both directions, for more miles than you could drive in a day.  Likewise for the cross roads.   God help the soul who gets lost out here (and don't worry, God does, through His friendly and blessed people who call these paths "home.")   The only memorable town trophy is the old school house.  It's been closed for decades, but the former students who live nearby (all grannies and granddads now) have a monthly town dance in the empty, square building.   If you happened upon the right lumpy lane, and knew where to stop, you'd see these trees:

These trees look like the rest of the trees lining sunburned roads in Merrick (and Meridian and Shiloh and Frost and...).  But these trees our our trees.   Almost three years ago, long before he met me, my husband bought 25 acres of trees.  At one point the path through them had been cleared out, but spending almost two years in Maryland gave the grass and reeds ample time to reclaim their territory.  Behind these trees, about a quarter mile straight in, is the beginning of our house.   There is a concrete footing and foundation, as well as concrete exterior walls (I was there for that stage), with cut-outs for the windows and doors.  In a couple weeks, we're headed to Meridian, and we'll be passing the old school, and we'll pull up to these trees.  During our month long stay, we'll trample down most of that helpless but persistent greenery on the ground.   We've been saving for over a year - counting pennies, not taking trips we could have taken, waiting - and now it's time to put a roof on the house.   Caleb will spend 10-16 hours a day, nearly everyday, making this roof become real and not a drawing.  Early mornings, late nights, sweet rest, unexpected costs and satisfying progress are sure to be our story.

This was never how I imagined my first year of marriage.

No, I wasn't exactly a Red Dirt Bride in my mind.  Before I met Caleb, I imagined staying in my outskirts-of-DC-location for a few years, and then maybe moving somewhere quaint down south.  South Carolina was the location of choice.  Beach, class, lower cost, East Coast (near route 95 and all the beloved cities who live up and down it - from Boston, New York, Philadelphia, DC, Charlotte, Charleston and on).  Close enough to not drastically change my photography clientele, but far enough away to change my world.  Close enough to spend long weekends with my family, but far enough to miss my birth city.  I also dreamed of quick California fixes.  The California coast is my favorite and best place in the whole world (well, that I've had the honor of experiencing so far.)  My mother and her family is from and still near and around California.  I have friends - so many friends - out there.  When I was still younger than 10, we moved out to San Diego for a year and a half.  It was the longest vacation I've ever taken.  I'm a summer girl, who craves a beach and tacos and fashion and a dry heat world.  I imagined that.



But I met a red dirt man.

"... somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to cradle his own grandchild... somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to 'be sure and come back real soon' — and mean it... Somebody who’d bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life ‘doing what dad does.'"

He dreams of carrying on the family business he and his father and brothers began years ago.  He bounces in his seat, and gets flushed when he explains to me the plans for his, er, our, home.  We often nestle into bed and begin using our hands to "draw" a new idea we have.  Usually this turns into lights popping back on, and someone googling or doodling to "see" the idea better.  I made a few changes to his original plans - a woman's touch.  The kitchen has been moved and there are far more bedrooms now.  He's talked me into some ideas I didn't love initially (*ahem* stone, turrets *ahem*) and I've gotten him quite excited about acrylic chairs, glass and crystal, and bright and white over dark and "cabin-y."  Dark wood floors, wood-beamed ceiling and a white-exterior with black accents have been our chocolate fondue melting pot. 

So we begin.  Living this life as "one," a Hollywood half-blood crossed with country wind and grit.  There is more preppy in him than he was aware of, and I've discovered there is more small-town in my heart than I had ever understood.  Our neighbor across the way, for example, plants two gardens every year: one inside his fence for he and his family, one on the outside of his fence, by the side of the road, for anyone nearby or passing-by who needs an onion or potato.   Every year.  Just to be kind.  Yes, there is room - much room - my heart for living life with people like him.  Caleb's favorite shoes are either his Cantor Low Ralph Lauren canvas sneakers, or his classic brown Sperry Top-Siders.

I love being changed, and watching someone else change, and yet somehow still retaining ourselves in the process.  I love being a Red Dirt Bride.  It's better than I imagined.

---

Our road-trip to build the roof starts the first weekend in March.  We'll be cruising through country in my little white Corolla, and we'll live in Guthrie (the latest stop for the Mumford&Sons tour! What what!  "The biggest thing to happen to Guthrie since The Land Run.")

I'd love to meet new friends in the surrounding area.  E-mail or get in touch somehow if you're available to chat and hang-out during the month of March.   We can mingle at Hoboken!  Or if you'd like a photoshoot of some sort - I'm available for a few sessions :)  

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 14

"because some of us are pirates 
and some of us are damned.
but all of us, need all of us to ever find the land.
and though the passage of good hope may seem
like a needles eye.
we're floating on tranquility
on this beautiful night."
josh ritter - beautiful night

There are varied and colorful reasons a person might decide to "be in a relationship" with someone else.   More than these, but these:

The together-ness of it.  "A lonely existence is fate worse than death," after all!  
The flattery of it.  The need to be wanted, the want to be needed.  
The game of it.  It's madness, and the human heart loves hopeful, spirited contention.  
The fear of it (or the fear of not having it).  The "what if's" and "could be's!" and "I hope not's" and "I'm scared's."   
The hard-to-get-ness of it.   The one you can't have, the bad boy, the challenge, the hide-and-seek, hunt-and-chase, the tag-you're-it, the "timing isn't right, but our love can make it work! It will survive!"   
The chemistry of it.  The "bam!" person (people?) who change the game once and for all.  Who actually drive you wild and… stupid.  The ones who make you forget or forego your standards.  The ones you "just can't say no" to.  The ones who introduce you to your, ahem, drive.  
The expectations of it.  What you assume or predict or plan to happen.
The bragging rights of it.  Being able to walk into a room with him  on your arm, and post bitterly-adorable-heaven-on-earth-special filtered phone photographs of you two, and to have someone to talk to all your gals about.  It's fun!   
The pressure of it.  "Everyone" thinks it's meant to be.  "Everyone" "knows" you are made for each other.  "Everyone" thinks you're an idiot to pass it up.   
The enthusiasm of it.  Like when it snows in October.  It's out of the ordinary, it's something to talk about, it's unboring. 
The "it's so perfect on paper" of it.  The lists.  Oh the lists.  Burn the lists.  (In the meantime, have personal conviction).  
The confusion of it.  Puzzles are confusing.  That's why it's so satisfying to put it all together.  Victory! Perseverance! Now we dance!  
The safety of it.  What is known is far less horrifying than what is unknown.  "There could be better for me, but there might not be."  
The imagination of it.  The soggy, schmaltzy, triumphant make-believe you do believe is on the verge of happening, of becoming  tangible.    
The idea of it.  It's quite a delicious concept.  Me and you, you and me, against the great, big, bad world.  The place you belong.  Being "more yourself with him than without him."  It pulses.

And sometimes, it's the "him-ness" of it.  He's not an illusion, trick, game, hoax, hole-filler, activity, chore, nest, or dream.  Maybe he comes with a side of deep ba-chow-pa-chow fireworks, or irresistible good looks, or arresting vocabulary, or charm that could hang off a dainty silver chain.  But it's him.  He is who you want, and why you're together.

Anna brought confusing clarity when she said 

"I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. 

I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me."  

The gory bits of me and you.  The gory bits of him.  Before our comical Strong Mansion first date, I had gone on two other "first-dates" with a boyfriend (those other boyfriends, by the way? BOTH relationships combined didn't last four weeks.)  Caleb was my third actual boyfriend.  And the second "him."  I crushed on, and was fooled by, and pondered, and played the game with, and accepted the attention of others.  But on that Strong Mansion date, I was 21 and had made my way through a decade of middle school, high school, and "college age" with less hugs from males than fingers on my right hand, and without holding hands with a boy, having a first kiss, or saying "I love you."

But, I went to coffee, lunch and dinner (alone) with different guys (those are dates, right?).  I "talked" with guys.  I "tried" to see if there was anything there.  I "waited patiently" when something was there for me, and then… the guy dated and married someone else.  I was a strange combination of smart and clueless.  Of experienced and naive.  Of sharp and innocent.  

So when it came to Caleb and I, I knew I liked him.  I wanted to date him.  I wanted to fall in love with him.  (As opposed to "just wanting to fall in love.")  He, rather than the idea of he, had my respect and affection.  He was my good friend (so important so important so important).  He was a man of conviction, and action.  He lived and loved with a soothing and honest modesty.  He was excitable, but intentional.  He seemed to have the most perfect balance of "work hard, play hard" of anyone I'd ever met.  He was a gentleman and also a little boy and also a grandfather.  Honorable, energetically delightful and patiently reassuring.   He had a beautiful mind, but didn't give away thoughts easily.  "… these stories were't routinely told.  These stories one had to earn."  He had a nearly word-for-word identical vision for future, marriage, family and life that I saw for myself.  He was generous.  He listened to me.  He, in one sentence, could hush and challenge and inspire and affirm me.  He was tearfully real with me about his personal insecurities and fears.  He was flexible and content and faithful.  I felt like I had known him longer than I really had, I had feelings for him, I daydreamed about making-out with him.  He was my friend.  We were figuring each other out, and didn't know each other well yet, there were "the in-between bits" left to discover.  But I knew I had my sleeves rolled up and my work-boots on, and I was in this for the gory bits of him.  Not the thought of or fun of or flattery from him.  
(By the way, female readers, don't confuse "what he does to you" and "he."  Also, don't ignore "what he doesn't do to you" and "he."  I know that sounds complicated, but it's important.  You should feel something, but you shouldn't be willing to DO ANYTHING because of said feeling.  If it looks good on paper, but you have no desire… don't do it.  If you have more desire than you ever imagined, but have no/broken trust/meaningful-friendship… watch out. Seriously.  Beware.)

But here is what I did not know.  I didn't know if it was enough.  I didn't "know."  Which.  I know I know I know! You don't HAVE to "know" right away.  But I was aware that you can have a great friendship, and emotional romance, and sizzling fires… and it doesn't mean you should or will spend forever together.  And since I had been hurt, since I had relationships not work out, since Caleb himself had "broken up" with me once before, I was somewhat frozen in my square.  Like playing a board game, and genuinely enjoying it, but when it came time to roll the dice and move forward, I just… stayed put.  I didn't want to not play, and I didn't want to lose. Because he was so… good… I could talk to him about all this "stuff."  I told him that I thought he liked me more than I liked him, which was quite a flip from February.  I told him I was nervous, but that I definitely wanted to be in this.  When I was being silent, he'd force me to talk.  And when I couldn't shut up, he'd force me to be quiet.  Not "forceful" in a controlling way, but in an unstoppable way.  There were a few qualities of his that still were different from what I expected and hoped for.  Mostly it was this:  he wasn't the funny guy, the life of the party, the quick-witted, loud energy, "full of things to say" man.  He wasn't like my dad.  He wasn't like most of the other guys I ever liked or "considered" or connected with. He certainly wasn't the personality of the man I imagined for myself.  Was this okay?  Was all he was "enough"?  Was I okay not having that quality?  These questions were another reason I knew I liked him.  He was not my type - at all.  He wasn't what I would have picked for myself if you gave me a line-up.  And yet, in all of that, there was a wholeness I clearly couldn't deny.  Was it my heart fighting my mind?  My mind fighting my heart?  I don't know.  I couldn't let go, but I was scared to hold on.  A phrase I said often was "I want him to be 'it' but I don't know if he is."

These sentences are what, looking back, I wish I had understood a little better.  Or maybe they are exactly what I did come to understand.  

“I used to think that finding the right one was about the man having a list of certain qualities.  If he has them, we'd be compatible and happy.   Sort of a checkmark system that was a complete failure.  But I found out that a healthy relationship isn't so much about sense of humor or intelligence or attractive-ness.   It's about avoiding partners with harmful traits and personality types.   And then it's about being with a good person.   A good person on his own, and a good person with you.   Where the space between you feels uncomplicated and happy.  A good relationship is where things just work.   They work because, whatever the list of qualities, whatever the reason, you happen to be really, really good together.”  deb caletti - the secret life of prince charming

"He blessed them… and behold, it was very good.  And they were naked and unashamed."  [Genesis 1 +2]  Acting openly, without guilt, embarrassment or fear.  Without protection, defense or anywhere to hide.  Vulnerable.  Free.  It was good.  Ironically enough, feeling open and unrestrained with someone else is not a particularly exciting or "jazz you up" feeling.  It's not the peak and pinnacle of all sensation.  Like walking into your mother's kitchen, with her household famous homemade meal waiting for you.  Where she can already tell you had a hard day, and saved you a plate because you were home late.  You can take a deep breath and "Aaaaaah…" and relax.  Rest.  Savor.  Enjoy. Spill.  Not think.  Or think too hard.  Be.  

I had never experienced that with someone else, and I often wondered if that sense of comfort, home and total safety was a cop-out?  If it was boring?  If it was "normal"?  Is it supposed to "feel" like this?  I sometimes over-explain myself - which is probably more a sign of poor writing than misunderstood readership.  BUT. I'm not using the words "naked" and "unrestrained" in a dating relationship with the meaning "DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL THE TIME! NO RULES! NO CONSEQUENCES!  NO WORRIES! HAKUNA MATATA!"  I'm simply meaning: I'm not faking anything with this person.  I'm not keeping anything from this person.  He knows ME.  And I'm learning him.  Not a game-playing him, or "yes-man" him.  The REAL him.  And the space between Caleb and I was uncomplicated and happy.  He was good.  And we were very true with each other.  And all of that didn't "feel" like things I had experienced before.  Not because these "new feelings" were louder and bigger than other ones, no, no.  That's what I was expecting, to be honest.  They were quieter and calmer. (And they were there.  I'll repeat until I die: they must exist.) This caused disharmony in me.  

Our dates were always filled with good food, cute outfits, special adventures, and happiness.  We saw each other every single day.  Because we both  wanted to.  I was quite thrilled when I was with him, but I'd wake up and start asking all my questions and have to talk myself off the ledge, and then - without fail -, when 4:00 or 5:00 o'clock rolled around I was anxious for that text that he was finishing up work.  I had to see him.  After a few weeks of double-dates, movie-nights at friend's houses, hiking trips, group church activities he had made some new friends in Maryland, but I realized he was with me all the time.  I felt bad, so I told him to go have a guys night, to go do something by himself.  He decided that he wanted to hang out with his new friend Josh, who is married with three young kids, and lived about an hour away from our town.  Caleb loved talking with Josh, and genuinely loved spending time with families and guys "ahead" of him in life. 

 I didn't see Caleb before work.  I didn't see him during work.  I didn't see him after work.  By dinner time, I was physically hurting.  I missed Caleb heaps and handfuls.  I was trying to be "good" and not text him 12 or 13 times.  I was trying to enjoy hanging out with my dad (he was in town and staying in the apartment with me.)  I made him dinner and we caught up.  Josh's wife was being wonderful and texting me the funny things they were talking about it.  Laughing at Caleb's drink choices.  Around 7:30 or so she texted and said Caleb had thrown up.  WHAT! Thrown up! "Yeah!  He was fine one second, and then the next he excused himself - quickly - to the bathroom.  And then he was puking!"  She told me he seemed to be feeling better.  Until.  He threw up again 30 minutes later.  "He's laying down on the couch now.  He says he can drive home.  But I'm not so sure…I'm sorry I poisoned your boyfriend!"  I immediately left.  "Tell him I'm coming.  Don't let him drive."  

I arrived after 9:15, and he was limp and sweaty on the couch.  It was all humorous (and the makings of a great story) but still so so sad.  He looked pathetic.  Not "man-cold pathetic." But actually really, really bad.  Slumped over we helped him to the car.  He ever-so-sweetly thanked Josh for having him (with drool slugging down his cheek.)  Every bump and turn caused a panic.  "Please drive slow!  Please be careful!"  We made it back to my house in the nearer-to-11:00-hour.  He had thrown up again a couple more times in the car (thank you, Kelley, for the bags you sent with us!)  He propped himself on me as we inched up the stairs and into my living room.  He wilted into the cute white couch and moaned.  I left to get him a blanket and pillow, then I heard scampering and awful heaving.  He slammed the bathroom door and had himself a time.  I brought him some ginger ale and crackers once he laid back down.  "Try to eat a little?"  He refused.  Ice-hugged-washcloths were the next need.  I held the cloths over his head and under his neck.  "Please try to eat something?"  He nibbled a cracker and fled to the restroom again.  While he was in there, I got a bucket for him so we wouldn't have to make "the run" every time.  Within the hour, he "emptied out" into the bucket.  I cleaned the bucket in the bathtub.  He was freezing now.  I hunted for a warmer quilt.  And Pepto-Bismal.  He exploded again.  He asked for popsicles and he was too hot.  His face was bright red and raining.  I sped to 7-11.  It was nearing 3 am.  I came home to him dry-heaving and pleading with God to "make it stop."  I tried to rub his feet to help calm his body down?  Relax him a little?  

In between his "sessions" he'd sort of fall asleep, only to be abruptly awoken.  I cleared and washed his bucket over and over.  By 5:30 am he had fallen asleep for real and at 6:00 am, I wrapped up in a sheet and slept under the kitchen table with a few pillows.  We both woke up around lunchtime.  I was in the same clothes as the day before, with various juice, medication, soap and puke dots all over me.  My make-up was mostly rubbed off, and the bags under my eyes were too big to carry-on.  I smelled salty and bloated. And that was the morning he "fell in love" with me.  My dad laughed at our appearance.  "Good night, huh?"  Perfect night, actually.

I, of course, didn't know what had happened that night for quite some time.  But for him, that series of events, caused him to "fall hard."  He was in love.  

The night before his disastrous food poisoning, we had whipped around Washington DC for a nearly perfect date.  He got off of work early and told me to "dress nice."  I had a dress I had been waiting for the right occasion to wear.  This was the perfect time.  We drove to the metro and took the train into the city.  After being captivated by the detail and grander of Union Station, we walked and talked all the way to dinner.  He had reservations at the restaurant I'd be talking about for months: Founding Farmers.  We agonized over the menu.  It's so hard to just pick a couple items!  We moaned with delight when our food arrived and we could finally taste it.  We spent most of dinner talking about his new plans:  his new "I'm not leaving Maryland" plan.  Though we had only ever talked about and agreed to him coming for 4-6 weeks, once he was here, I kind of forgot he wasn't staying?  The conversation was richly meaningful, but also, you know, scary ;)

He told me how he thought he could get more work here once he finished his project.  He talked about selling his house and land in Oklahoma if he needed to.  He didn't want to, but he was willing to.  I was almost alarmed.  His land? And house?  That place was his lifelong dream, and was half-way into being complete!  And… he would consider giving that up to stay here with me?  To make things work with me?  The idea shook me to the spine.  I felt honored and horrified.  We then talked about his house.  I asked him all about it.  He told me every little detail and plan and idea he had for it.  He told me why it was located where it was, why he didn't put the house in the original plan (on the hill), how he ended up getting the land, where he wanted to build a gazebo and stage to play music in the summer, about the deck for big BBQ's, about the tall ceilings for a 15-foot Christmas tree, the stone fireplace, the spiral staircase, the wood beams ("to wrap garland around at Christmas time!").  He spoke of these plans like he was telling me about the glory days in war, or recalling the night he met his sweetheart, Shirley, at the local bandstand.  He was lost in world, with swift movements and hungry eyes and animated descriptions.  He loved that land, and what that land meant to him.  It was the first night I ever thought "Maybe I could live in Oklahoma.  Maybe."  

After eating, we walked to the Capitol building.  In the summer there are weekly free jazz concerts put on by different military branches.  We sat on the white steps of the iconic building, and clapped and hoo-rah-ed and watched the sun go down, with the reflecting pool and Washington Monument in the distance.  Not too long after, we took our shoes off and walked around under giant trees in the soft green grass.  We found a spot to sit down, and I pulled out my favorite ND Wilson book.  He'd been wanting to read it with me, so I opened to one of my most cherished chapters and took off into the story.  I read aloud for a few pages, leaning my back on Caleb's shoulder, rubbing the grass with my none-book-holding-hand.  Then I noticed Caleb seemed really stiff.  He was fidgeting and not comfortable.  "Are you alright?  Am I hurting you?" "NO! NO. I'm good.  You're fine.  Yeah. Keep reading!"  I read on and he arched his back a little.  It almost felt like he was holding his breath under water.  I stopped again. "I can move!  It's okay… want to find a tree to sit against?"  "I'm really fine.  I promise!"  I picked up where I had left off and… a rain drop fell onto my hand.  And my dress.   Another one landed in the middle of the paragraph I was reading.  

I looked up at the clear, hot, summer sky.  Dry as could be.  I turned towards my date.  My literal hot date.  He was not a normal shade of flesh-color.  And he was sweating, big time.  It was a particularly humid night, and summers in Oklahoma are dry like never-used diapers in Egypt.  He was not used to dealing with this much perspiration.  "Oh my, that's disgusting.  I'm so sorry.  What a gentleman I am!"  I dropped the book and rolled around laughing.  "Take off your button-up!  You have a t-shirt underneath!" He was so relieved to hear me say that.  He didn't just have "pit-marks."  He had chest-marks, neck-ring-marks, wrist-marks and pit… pools.  Slightly cooler, and slightly more relaxed, he came nearer to me again.  As we were preparing to re-settle, he, um, cut the cheese, burned the bench, stepped on a duck, experienced some thunder from down under.  It was silent.  But venomous.  My first thought was that we had accidentally arranged ourselves into a nest of dog poop.  "Is this dirt?! Or is it… UM. CALEB. Did you just…?"  He leapt away from me and sheepishly apologized.  He, thus far, had been nothing but proper, classy and gentlemanly.  Well-spoken, clean and fresh-smelling.  And his image was unraveling at the seams.  I felt like I was witnessing Kate Middleton walk around with her dress tucked into her pantyhose.  This was not like him!  And his mortification only made it funnier.  He didn't play it off or make a joke.  He was in SHOCK.  He tried to wave his BO-laden J.Crew button-up around the air to fan the smell away.  While doing that, he let loose again.  

"CALEB!" I screamed, mostly teasing.  He looked so defeated and ashamed with himself.  I laughed and laughed.  "YOU!  You of all people!  Are sweating all over your date, and rubbing body odor on her!  AND FARTING!  In her FACE!  HAHAHHA!"  Once he saw my pleasure in his crudeness, he started laughing too.  I loved seeing him "come out of his box."  Not be perfectly groomed, cut and polished.  I loved seeing his reaction to embarrassment.  I egged it on more and more.  Maybe it wasn't all that funny, but the tickle-bug hit and we were stumbling around re-telling the story to ourselves, imitating our faces, roaring on the lawn.  

We finally sat down on a bench and tried to re-group.  He told me he was glad - "like, major glad." - he was staying.  He hoped I was too.  I was quiet for a moment.  

"Caleb.  What I'm about to say might seem ludicrous to you.  And I don't expect you to understand it.  But, I kind of really believe it."  I had certainly perked his attention.  "When I was 15, I had a dream.  And.  I don't know.  It was different than other dreams.  I had met this stranger in my dream and we were together and I fell in love with him.  But it all happened at this one moment.  Like, it was a specific 'thing' that happened.  Well, maybe I fell in love with him over time, but I didn't know it.  Until one specific time.  And I won't tell you any details of the dream, but I remember it perfectly.  I could draw it out for you right this second.  But when I knew, I knew.  And.  I think that's going to happen to me.  I think I'm going to KNOW.  And, I don't know yet.  And I want you to know that.  I really am happy and am loving all of this.  And we've only been together for two months, so I know there is no rush.  I'm not trying to speed anything up or put pressure on us.  But since you're staying, and saying very big things about how you feel about me, and what you'd give up for me… I just thought it was fair that you know."  

He was, rightfully, confused by my eloquent speech.  "So, you have to have 'this moment' like in your dream before you… marry someone?"  "Well!  Kind of!  I mean, I'm not even saying marriage, per se, I'm just saying… I've never KNOWN with someone.  Except that time in my dream.  And I want to have that sureness, that total 'Yes. I KNOW.' before I committed to something big, you know?"  He asked, rightfully, if I didn't have 'that one moment' if I'd maybe "know" another way.  "God works in many ways.  You might know with someone, but it might not be like it was in your dream."  I agreed.  And I had no biblical or conviction-al or even helpful support to back up my dream theory.  He could tell I was closing up.  "It's okay!  You don't have to know anything yet.  I don't know yet.  We're just dating.  We're having fun.  It's okay.  You're not leading me on.  Don't worry.  You can take your time, crazy lady.  There is no deadline for this.  I know what I'm risking, and I want to.  Don't feel pressure.  I mean it."  I got chills and almost cried, but decided to change the topic and take pictures instead. 

Just hours later, he was puking on my couch.  I couldn't help but tremor inside when the in-betweens of he and I made their way onto our stage.  Unpracticed, disgusting, raw, human us.  On display for the other to see!  It was good.  And June was telling the story of such goodness.  We'd come a long way since December.  We had a long way to go.  But I was starting to the CS Lewis sentence come to pass, "Real friendship will have naked personalities." 

And I had the gory bits of "him" very much in love with me.  Tale as old as time.  True as it can be.


to be continued...

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 13

"and the next time I see you, a new kind of hello, both our hearts have a secret  only both of us know." kathleen - josh ritter

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

The morning after our "change everything" phone call I woke up with flushed cheeks, a happy belly and some texts on my phone.  By the afternoon there was a bouquet of roses for me at the door (as well as Spring Mix bouquet for my mother.  Well played, Oklahoma dude.)  We sent each other pictures of each other.   We talked on his drive home from work.  It all felt back to "normal."  Almost like we had never stopped being in each other's lives at all.

The following day I drove to the beach with my mom, a couple siblings, aunt and cousins who were going on a cruise.  I was spending the night with them to drop them off and then take the car home.  I sent my boyf a text of my toes in the sand and said something like "I wish you were here!"  I should have known by now that if you give this boy a bait, he will bite (Christmas Eve anyone?)... but then again, maybe I did know that and that's why I said it.  His wheels were turning.  It is Friday.  I have to be back in Texas on Monday morning.  But there is nothing I *have* to do this weekend.  Start the fiery finger engines as I turned into a mad, one-focused, iPhone flight hunter.  Sitting in the hotel room with a half-napping, half-swim-suited family, I kept apologizing for being such a brat.   If anyone talked to me or asked me a question I either didn't hear them or would forget to answer.  The internet wasn't working on the laptop.  DUMB cheap hotel wifi!  Scroll scroll scroll on my phone.  Darn. No.  I didn't click that! I was scrolling! Go back. GO BACK. No. Not back two pages.  Kristen, can I have my shoes. Kristen. Kristen, my shoes?  Load load load load. Come on. KRISTEN.  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!  I just HAVE to see if he can get a flight now!  I hate that I'm being so rude!"  Travelocity and Expedia did not have particularly smartphone friendly websites, and I was anything but patient.  My mom, the voice of reason, asked about the prices.  Are you sure you want to spend that much for such a  short trip?  If I found a flight that I thought was good, I'd call Caleb who was driving home from the Texas job site (nearly 3 hours from his house).  The call would cut out because stretches of midwest desert  like to be in charge and make new, desperate couples frustrated.  After far too long, we came to a noble solution for a semi-honorable price: Saturday morning he'd fly from Oklahoma to Orlando, Sunday night he'd leave Tampa and fly right to Texas.  We'd have about 30 hours together, but when you're young, stupid and in-like, that seems like a forever.

I couldn't sleep at all on Friday night.  I kept watching the clock.  Re-living the last few days.  Reading over our latest texts.  Because there were texts in my phone from him, once again.  Wondering what would happen.  Excitement was full, but my heart was raw.  I was smart enough to know that one letter and a couple of conversations isn't the recipe for a healthy, successful relationship.  We had a lot ahead of us.  And we already had so much behind us.  I couldn't help but travel down the what-if's on both ends of the line.  "What if this really works out?"  "What if we break-up 'again'?" "Oh my gosh.  I'm going to SEE him in seven hours!" I finally rested my eyes and brain for a few hours.

When the crew woke up, ready to sail the seas and explore new islands, I got dressed in my swimsuit and totally adorable white summer dress.  After dropping the cruise-group off (and saying good-bye to my mother who was SO bummed she was going to miss seeing [and grilling haha] Caleb!) I drove to Orlando to pick up Caleb.  One of my cousins was with me and on the drive I told her the whole long, detailed, girly version of the story.   My phone was set - well, what would YOUR phone be set on if you were waiting to hear that your new mister had landed where you were? - yeah, it was on high and vibrate and I still checked it at every red light or stop sign.  Just in case we had gone through a dead zone and my phone had missed it.  Just in case.

As I was parking, I got the word!  He was here.  I fluffed my hair.  Checked my arm-pits.  Hairy? Nope. Smelly? Not yet.  Seeing Caleb? YAA GURL!  The only slightly (read: completely) self-concious issue I had was the many, red, leporsy-like, bumps I had... everywhere.  I've never talked about my acne problems on this blog... I wasn't the girl who would break-out occasionally and then have it clear up in a few days.  I was the girl who had face texture like the moon and had more skin covered in zits than "normal," clear skin.  By a long shot.  You might be like "No! Your skin was never that bad! I don't remember seeing that in pictures?" Um. HELLO. I know how to use Photoshop!  And when my skin was at it's worst, I would hide all week and come out to go to church and then scurry back indoors.  The worst was baby-sitting, because at least adults and friends pity you enough to avoid saying anything.  Children are far too blunt ;) Anyways,  at the time, I was in the beginning stages of taking a very controversial drug, that you are only supposed to take once in your life but because my face was so bad, I was taking for a third time.  I was the stage "My flesh peels away like filo dough, my lips are crusty like french bread and my nose has bloody-crunchy-swords waging war inside of it."  The only way to combat the fish-scale-dryness was to baste myself in Aquaphor.  Half-an-inch around my lips, up in my nose, all over my hands.  Pretty!  To boot, my day in the sun where I expected to get a nice little glow - a kiss from the sky! a touch of bronze! a coating of summer! - turned into a nightmare. My skin reacted strongly to the sun and started breaking out in awful blisters (I was careful.  I wasn't out long. I just forgot that I was closer to the equator and the sun is much stronger in Florida than Maryland.  I'm pretty aware of what I can handle and how much sun my body can take.)  The medicine causes these reactions.  But, on top of that I was apparently attacked by demon beach bugs.  I counted over 100 bites on my legs.  To prove that I'm not exaggerating I am showing you - the world - disturbing and horrifying images.


Needless to say, I had to make sure my hair was properly puffed.  The sweet, tall, toned, beautiful boy I liked so much was coming to see one heck of a polka-dotted, greasy, burned little thing.  My hair was my only unaffected feature ;)  Why do I spend so much time detailing my body flaws?  To begin the series-of-laughable-events that take place when it comes to Caleb and Kristen.  We had the almost-missed flight at Christmas, and the delayed flights in January.  We had the "break-up" in February.  And now we're finally at the same airport, together, making our way to each other and I'm a Bible Times Outcast.  But un-hidably excited.  I raced into the baggage claim area, with my cousin trying to keep up.  I ran between the stairs and the claims.  I waited and scanned furiously when a new group descended.  Five, 10, 15 minutes later... still no Caleb.  He called.  Where are you?  I'm here! At the bottom of the stairs! Me too! Right at the bottom of the stairs!  My pretzal-knot stomach was only getting tighter by the word.  I'm at the bottom of the stairs too.  Right by the baggage claims.  And the bathrooms.  And the taxi booths.  I would not have missed you!  Caleb started reading off signs around him. And then I realized: I'm in the wrong terminal.  I took off to find where he was waiting for me.  And after a good seven-minute run/walk I found him at the bottom of the other stairs.  He ran to me when we spied each other.  He squeezed me in a warm hug when I got to him.  Oh it was good to be together.

I'm already trying to cram too much into this segment of the story, so I have to start to re-cap some of the events briefly.  We met up with my dad and the rest of my siblings at the beach.  My dad make a joke about "It's a good thing you're a man of grace now" (since we were at a bikini-filled beach haha I love my dad.)  Caleb just said "Yes, sir" and shook his hand.  After some playing in the ocean, Caleb and I took a walk to the corner of the beach.  In-between large rocks, a family of palm trees and soft white sand, he gave me a silver chain necklace and asked (for the third time) if I'd be his girlfriend.  He wanted to "look in my eyes and see me say it with my mouth."  I obviously said "yes!" and we hugged.  It was a very dear moment.  We didn't hold hands or kiss or even hug "around our waists."  Just over our shoulders ;)   It was April 23, and the day we consider our "dating anniversary." We were awkward and happy and red and feeling on top of the world.   That night we enjoyed a beautiful BBQ at home.  I got sick that night and Caleb brought me tea and onions (he heard onions were the secret to some ailment.  I have no idea.  But it was darn cute.  And he makes the best cup of tea I've ever had the pleasure to drink.)  We stayed up until almost four talking and enjoying each other's company.  Such bliss.  The next morning was Easter so we dressed all fancy and went with the family to church.  A big lunch, easter egg hunt, sweats and Mad Libs were in order when we got home.


Before I took Caleb to the airport he taught me how to play part of a duet to "Glorify Thy Name" on the piano.  We also went for a walk in the hot Florida rain.  He dropped me into a puddle and I screamed and kicked and tried to run away.  We sat on the curb and bemoaned the end of his trip.  We sometimes bumped shoulders and made our insides steam.  We flirted and prayed and had very much fun.

Before we knew it, it was time to leave.  Caleb packed his small, leather carry-bag back up.  I sang country songs while we drove.  Happy songs.  He bopped his head a little and smiled a lot.  He tried to pick up on some of the words.  But he didn't know many country songs.  Hardly any.  I told him he needed to learn.  He smiled.  I drove.  And smiled back.  Awkward and happy and sad and on the cusp of a great love story.  It was magical.

Caleb left for Oklahoma, and I left for Maryland a few days later.  I had a wedding to shoot on April 29 and I was flying to London for a European adventure on May 1.  I would be gone until May 12.  I had a wedding to shoot on May 15.   It was busy... and part of me wanted to cancel everything and buy some Ariat's and drive until the roads turned red.  But another part of me had a hunch that this might be my last summer "like this" ever.  I still lived in my beautiful, window-ed, white apartment.  I traveled often.  Work was wonderful.  I went pretty much wherever I wanted to go, when I wanted to.  I stayed up late, tried new things, met new people, shopped, dreamed.  I couldn't help but wonder - and maybe even fear - if this lifestyle was in the beginning stages of changing forever.  If I was writing the last sentences in a chapter, only to be re-read as a strong, good memory.  

Jamie, my Canadian best friend, met me in London.   Dublin, St. Andrews (the remarkable university-town where Prince William and Kate met), Belfast and Edinburgh awaited us.  Ireland and Scotland were our oysters.   With all kinds of timezone difference, unpredictable service and internet, and desire to make the MOST of this trip I possibly could, Caleb and I had no idea how we'd be able to keep in touch.  E-mails, of course.  Maybe an occasional Skype call?  The night before I left we talked extra long.  The moment I sat on the plane, texting him the final time for 12 days, I got really emotional.  I twisted my silver chain in my fingers and thought about the future and the past.  Before long, I was walking to a hotel on the other side of the ocean to find my travel-friend.  And we spent the next almost-two-weeks doing this:


















Communication was actually even harder than I thought it would be.  Any long-distance couple knows how it goes.  You make plans to talk, something happens, you can't talk when you plan.  Or you can, for only 8 minutes... and then the service cuts out and someone has to go.   You never have time to really talk and tell stories and ask questions and hear jokes.  You just repeat the same basic lines over and over, and try to update a little bit.  "I miss you." "I can't wait to be closer to you." "It's beautiful here... I wish you were with me." "I have so many stories to tell you." "Today was saw beautiful cliffs and countryside.  Ate in a pub." "Come back to me." "Have fun!" "I am!" "I like you." "I like you, too." "Good-bye." "...bye."

This particular morning I woke up around 4:30 am and ran a block to our hotel lobby where there was free wifi.  The rooms didn't have wifi, and were spread out over a couple blocks.  We Face-Timed for not even two minutes.  But it was THE best getting to see and hear him.

It worked out for good, however.  Because our inability to talk long and late gave Caleb enough time to buy a truck, buy an iPhone and GPS, pack his belongings and tools, get a job in Maryland and make arrangements for where to live.  And I literally could not help him at all.
No matter how long a date you're waiting for seems to take, it always comes.  Days always end.  Mornings always begin.  And eventually you get there.  I did get home from Europe.  I did get to talk to Cowboy Sir for longer than two minutes.  I did start to "get ready" for his arrival (aka: get all the cute clothes clean NOW.) The day finally did come where he drove off his farm, waved good-bye to his people and set off for a month or so with me.  The drive is 24 hours and he left Saturday morning.  I was shooting a wedding at Shade Tree and Evergreen on Sunday, so it thankfully kept me (kind of) preoccupied while I anticipated his arrival.  Ellie, my friend and second-shooter, kept me sane by doing little happy dances for me.  Becca laughed at my texts about my arms falling off. (It was, by the way, the first time I'd ever had butterflies in my arms.  Ornery little creatures.)  And, eventually, the wedding was over and I was headed home.  I had to wait about two hours.  I Windex-ed everything one more time.  I made a hearty meal of wine-braised beef, egg noodles and green beans.  I vacuumed, again.  I put on a light, soft black dress with white and purple flowers and little buttons.  I brushed my teeth a few times.   And then... he was here.  He pulled up to the front of my building and walked up to  my second-story front door.  I heard a sturdy knock and JUMPED up.  I opened the door and saw a sweet smile, a bouquet of wild flowers (he stopped on the side of the highway and picked them for me) and the rest of my life.   After a tour of his truck, dinner and dessert and a far-too-quick goodbye, he went to unpack at his temporary home, The Remsnyder's House.  He had to get some sleep before his first day of work and he had some details to take care of before our first date on Monday night ;)  I fell asleep in a peaceful glow and tried to imagine what surprise he had in store for me tomorrow.  This was good.  This felt good.  Next segment I'll detail more of my heart-journal-emotions, but for today all was well.  
I had an exciting day ahead of me.  One bride meeting, two errands, three outfits to choose between, four thousand thoughts to sort through, five nails on each hand to paint and six o'clock pm to await.   Caleb had been a sweet, sneaky fellow.  While I was in Europe he got in touch with my parents and best friends and started asking for date ideas.  He didn't know the area at all, and barely knew where to start.  He wanted to go somewhere meaningful to me.  He didn't want to make it big like a proposal.  Somehow he decided to go on a picnic to Strong Mansion, the place where I shot my first wedding (very special to me.)  He took care of the basket, the pretty picnic blanket, the bouquet of roses, fresh strawberries and lots of sugar-y, sparkly drinks... oh! and expensive bottled water.  My parents tipped him off that my favorite deli was near Sugarloaf, so he planned to stop there to pick up dinner.   What the slow-paced lad didn't know was: Maryland traffic.  He didn't realize that "ten miles away" didn't equal "ten minutes away."  He left work at 4:30 and made a stop at the grocery store before going home to shower.   That process took 45 minutes instead of the planned 15 minutes.  Caleb got home in a boyfriend-flurry.  Janet and Becca were there, and they laughed and helped him organize himself.  He showered and obsessed about trying to pick a casual yet "I care" outfit.  The whole thing just took much longer than he planned, and he showed up 20 minutes late.  I gave him a hard time, because teasing and sarcasm is my natural response to being nervous  and excited.  I so wish my "natural" was kind and gentle. Reassuring.  No.  I'm the one who laughs when someone gets hurt.  Curse my instincts!  
Caleb fumbled with his GPS when he got in the car. "Darn, I meant to put the addresses in here.  I don't know how to get to where we're going.  I have the addresses though!"  I laughed as a slid into the passenger seat (NOT the middle of the bench seat) and asked him where we were going.  I'd direct him.  "Well, to start, Pasquale's.  We're going to pick-up dinner."  I told that we were about 25 minutes away.    So he drove on, and turned on his ipod.  He played "Felt Good On My Lips" by Tim McGraw.  We drove into our Maryland countryside, singing our hearts out, with the windows down.   When the song was done he grinned at me.  "Did you notice?"  Notice what?  "... You didn't notice."  Oh no!  I'm the worst!  Notice what?  Hair-cut? Was there a present in here I was missing? "I knew all the words to that song," he pitifully informed me.  OH! WHY! Yes! You did! I did... notice! "I practiced it the whole ride up here.  I'm sick of that song.  But you told me to learn country songs so I could sing with you in the car.  And I know all the words."  Bless his heart.  And bless mine, which was thumping a little faster.  [Caleb walked up as I was typing this paragraph and said "You wouldn't look at me.  You wouldn't look at me straight in the eyes.  I'd try to sneak glances at you while I was driving or when we were singing.  You stared straight ahead. Especially at the part of the song that says 'I wanna go crazy with YOU!' You'd look out the window then." Hahahah.]
After ordering our roast beef sandwiches, potato salad and chips, we Young Thang's drove even deeper into the country, through winding green roads, lined with fences, farms and tunnels of trees.  The road spits out onto a curvier road, leading to the mountain.  Strong Mansion sits half-way up this mountain.  It was just after 7:00 on a summer night, and we were on our third round of "Felt Good On My Lips" and the sun was thinking about setting and time stood very, very still.  We pulled into the parking lot at Strong.  And I started to get worried.  "Are you sure we're allowed to be here?  Do you have to have permission?  We better eat quickly, because we have to leave when the sun goes down."  Caleb laughed and told me to calm the heck down.  He told me that "Of course we can be here! Why not? And why would we need to leave when the sun goes down?"  Cue my rant about Maryland and Oklahoma being different and that Maryland State Parks close at sunset and that police will come get you if you stay past dark and we could be trespassing on private property which would get us in really big trouble and maybe we should just eat in the truck.  Caleb rolled his eyes and walked on.  "Come on, crazy.  Let's find a spot to eat. WHAT'S THAT?!" "WHAT?!" "Is it the police?!" "Shut up."

We chose to eat in Strong Mansion's neighbor's back yard.  Strong Mansion is a wedding and event venue, but the mansion next door is just a private house.  Where someone lives.  Caleb loved the tunnel of trees and the view of the gardens, so he wanted to eat... in someone else's backyard.  Cue my other rant about someone lives here and we definitely do not have permission to be here, unless you talked to the owners of this house, which I don't even know who they are, like, I know you could call the owner at Strong Mansion because their number is on their website but we don't know who lives in this house maybe you should knock on the door?

Caleb arranged the feast while I fretted.  "CALM down.  Jeez!  I thought you were adventurous!  You'll go to Europe alone and miss trains and walk down dangerous alleys in other countries, but you can't sit on a mountain and have a picnic with me?"  I took the hint.

I soothed myself by taking pictures before it was "ruined" and all eaten.  I was too nervous to eat much.  A scenario that rarely happens to me.  Caleb asked about my Europe stories.  Half-a-sandwich, a few sips of wine, and some tales later I was feeling very calm and peaceful.  We were laughing and recounting our latest travels.  Caleb finished his dinner and I wasn't going to eat anymore, so he suggested we go explore.  He kicked off his ugly black shoes and wanted to race me to the Private Mansion.  Sure, I'll race you.  I'm wicked fast!  He let me think I had the lead for a while and then whipped my rump in a terrible loss ;)  I wanted to race back to the blanket.  He had other ideas.  He wanted to check out this gorgeous, historic house.  He started walking up the stairs to the back-patio.  My insides trembled.  But I tried to be adventurous and go with him.  He then stood up and walked up on the hand-rail, balancing confidently.  I went up the stairs.  He started peaking into the windows.  "Wow.  This house is amazing.  And empty!  Look at that crown moulding!" I looked and then looked for security cameras.  He jumped from one sill to another.  Climbed on ledge and balcony.  Hid from me once to scare me.  Once I felt sure no one was around, I started playing more freely with him.  I loved his care-free, relaxed spirit.  I love that he didn't flinch when he had an idea.  He just did it.  I thought of Noah laying in the street with Ally telling her "Trust.  You need to learn to trust."




All of a sudden I realized it was dark.  I tricked him into racing me back to the picnic blanket.  I told him we should come back in the daylight so we could discover more.  But there was nothing else we could see in the dark.  Motion-activated flood lights popped on when we left.  I turned white as a ghost.  Back at the picnic area, away from any lights, he gave me a very nice hug.  My bare feet were in the cold grass.  My head didn't reach his chin.  He told me that he loved doing anything with me.  And that he was going to prove himself to me.  When he wasn't talking the only thing I could hear was his heart-beating.

"HEEEEEY! HEEEEEEEEEY! HEY YOU!"

Someone was screaming from the woods.  I couldn't see Caleb's face in front me anymore, and we couldn't tell where the yell was coming from.

"HEEEEY! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE! HEEEEY!"

I shook Caleb and told him to not go anywhere.  Please don't leave me.  Please stay here.  What should we do? Answer him? What if he has a knife?

The next "HEEEY!" came over a loud-speaker, complete with red and blue swirling lights.  Their was a police car next to Caleb's truck in the parking lot, and he was after us.  I SCREAMED at Caleb to get up there and talk to him!  Tell him we're sorry!  We're leaving! Act nice! I TOLD you police will come!  MARYLAND ISN'T LIKE OKLAHOMA. Caleb said "Come with me? I don't want to leave you... You told me..." "GOOOO. NOW! HURRY!"  With no shoes on, he went charging through trees, calling back to and waving at the police man.  I stayed behind in the dark and tried to grab all of our dinner.  It was completely black, so I tried to do mental inventory as a I felt around and tossed bottles and cups and blankets into the basket.  I grabbed a handful of potato salad right before I found my shoes.  I could hear Caleb rustling through the trees.  "HEEEEY!  WHO ARE YOU? HEEEEEY!" "I'm sorry, sir!" I grabbed my boots with my mayo-hand and carried the wreck of a basket in the the other.  I stepped in roast beef and a tomato while I fled.  Caleb's ugly shoes were under my arms and my heart was throbbing inside my face.  I was picturing a fine.  Probably just a fine.  Maybe if he's nice he'll just give us a warning.  God, help him not be a brat-cop.  As I tried to maneuver the forest alone, I heard one final "HEEEEY!" and then could see up ahead that Caleb and the cop were chatting.  Sparkling cider fell out of the basket and started rolling back down the hill.  I hoped he wasn't getting put into hand-cuffs.  Before I even got to Caleb, the police care drove away.  "Kristen!  Don't worry! He was so nice! It's okay! It's okay!"  Out of breath and sweaty, he met me in the trees and took the basket.

When we got to the parking lot and some light, I saw that Caleb's eyes were as big as tractor tires.  My shirt was wet from opened water bottles.  Our hearts punched us inside our chests.  I whispered to God a praise about not getting arrested. We stared at each other for a few seconds and then erupted into laughter.  He leaned onto the truck and I knelt on the gravel.  We howled and shook our heads. With cherry smiles we dumped our dinner in the back of his pick-up, I sat in the middle seat and he drove me home.

"WhoooaOOooa, how sweet it is."

to be continued...

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 12

i know you are waiting, 
and i know that it is not for me.
but i'm here and i'm ready
and i've saved you the passenger seat
josh ritter - kathleen


part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

I paused and stared at the envelope.  And then, without so much as a flinch, I gathered all my mail into my arms and stomped upstairs to my apartment.  There I set my mail next to me at my desk.  I sat down.  Opened up my e-mail and started working.  After a few moments I took Caleb's envelope into the other room and set it on the table (it was staring over my shoulder, and I have a very hard time writing when someone is watching me.)  I finished a handful of emails. I opened Photoshop to edit for a blog post.  I texted Becca "Caleb sent me something in the mail."  While I was waiting for her reply, I opened my prayer journal for Caleb and wrote down lyrics to a worship song and few in-the-moment thoughts.  "Let it be said of me // My source of strength // My source of hope // Is Christ alone // I seek no greater honor than to know Him more // And I count my gains but losses to the glory of my Lord//  My stomach has been in knots over this boy.  And now sitting in my living room there is a 'very special' package from him.  I have no idea what's inside and I have NO idea what to expect.  Man.  I really think I love Caleb.  I'm not really sure about this whole 'being in love' thing, but I do know I love and care for him.  He means so much to me.  So.  We'll see what this says? GAH!"


Becca answered "What is it?!?" "I don't know.  I haven't opened it yet." Becca was shocked.  "Why not?"  "Because I'm afraid."  In my mind there were three possible scenarios.  Number One:  Caleb was very sorry he had hurt me, and his conscience was catching up with him, so in order to "clear" himself, he needed to apologize to me.  And that was that.  I didn't just want an apology, though.  I wanted him to want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him!   Number Two:  Caleb really, really missed the idea of being my boyfriend and (like a regular guy) "all of a sudden!" realized he wanted what he couldn't have.   Maybe he even "heard from God" that I was the one!  One now he was finally ready to ask me out.  But I didn't just want him to want me:  I wanted him to have grown, changed.  To own up to his actions, and stop deflecting his fearful reality.  I wanted him to admit he had been cowardly.  I wanted him to want to try with me, not put me on some spiritual lock-down where God-on-High had already made it clear we were made for each other, and I had no say in the matter.  I wanted him to be willing to fight "the dragon," not coming running because he found out the dragon had died in his sleep.  Number Three:  Caleb really did change and grow.  He wanted to apologize, and also want to try to have something "more" between us.  I wanted him to be able to clearly say "Here's what I did wrong.  I'm sorry." and "Here's what I'd like to do.  I don't care if it's hard.  I'm willing to try."  Character growth and romantic feelings, pa-leez.

My phone buzzed.  "Kristen.  There is nothing to be afraid of.  He didn't send you hate mail.  Just open it."  I was afraid because I knew once I opened it I'd know if scenario 1, 2 or 3 was where he was it.  I had a 2 in 3 chance of hating his letter, and being very disappointed, again.    So long as I didn't know what he said, I could imagine that it was best-case scenario, right?!

i texted janet too ;)  she and becca lived together... and they were my listening ears time and time again when i had some "caleb" things to talk about.

I turned off my computer.  I turned off my phone.  I closed all the closet, room, and office doors in my house (it made me feel more alone.)  I walked over to the living room with my journal, which was filled with the page upon page of prayer for this boy.  Filled with page upon page of trueness for my soul.  Words and phrases of that little personally-penned book where looping through my body.  All those days (those long, long days) of fighting, or, er, resting, or fighting to rest.  All those hours of sickness in my heart and belly.  All those tear-singed minutes where I swallowed confusion the size of softballs.  All those seconds that could be not-too-bad and than *snap* one second later it was misery.  My brain wasn't able to handle this alone.  I got my hands and eyeballs involved.  We wrote together, and read together, and forced true things onto paper.  

[I know it is a little lengthy, but these snippets of my journals make the snippets of Caleb's letter that much more meaningful.] 

• "I could not tell her that the same duration of waiting was required of her.  She will have to take Christ's yolk upon her and learn of Him.  It is easy to talk oneself into a decision that has no permeance, easier, sometimes, than to wait patiently."  Elisabeth Elliot

• "I am not asking you to understand, I am asking you to receive.  Do you want food? Come." M. Lloyd-Jones

• Overthinking every moment you're alive // Like the dream that never ends // You're getting nowhere // But running as fast as you can. Fight the Fear - Caleb Chapman

• "The craftsman strengthens the goldsmith, and he who smoothes with the hammer and strikes it with anvil says of the soldering 'It is good,' and they strengthen it with nails so that it cannot be moved." Isaiah 41:7

• Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus // And to take Him at His Word

• "You say 'Protect me.  Keep me.' And then you go with Him, and you go where He wants you to go, into His glorious pastures." M. Lloyd-Jones

• "...they pour out a whispered prayer..." Isaiah 32:17

• "You are good and You do good.  It is good for me that I was afflicted, before I was afflicted I went astray." Psalm 119:16

• Teach me the patience of unanswered prayers // George Coley

• "If you are not firm in faith, you are not firm at all." Isaiah 7:9

• "He packs our lives with surprises all the time.  It is gloriously uncertain how He will come, but He WILL come in! how He will keep His word, but He WILL keep His word!" Oswald Chambers

• "The Lord will speak to His people, 'This is rest.' For it is precept upon precept, precept upon precept, line upon line, line upon line. Isaiah 28:12-13

• "It is only because He is so strong that He can be so tender; the strength is as essential as the tenderness." M. Lloyd-Jones

• "Steadfastness, that is holding on.  Patience, that is holding back.  Expectancy, that is holding one's face up! Obedience, that is holding oneself in readiness to go and do, or stay and not do. Listening, that is holding quiet and still, so still, as to hear." S.D. Gordon

• Day 9 // Be Brave // "Shadrach, Meshach and Abendago said to the King 'If this be so, our God who we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace.  But if not? Be it known to you, O King, we will NOT serve your gods." Dear Lord, how beautiful and stunning is the heart of a believer who doesn't waver; who knows who You are, even when his life is on the line!  These men were brave in You, their strength was found in Your ability, Your character, Your final word.  They knew you were able to deliver them, and they also knew you might choose not to... and they proceeded anyway.  I long for a brave heart like that.  And I know Caleb does too.  God, I ask you to make him unshakeable in the unknown, strong in testing, and brave to the point of death because You are his and he is Yours.  Help him not fear.  You can do that!  You are strong enough!  You can change hearts and make them bold!  I believe you can do this! Amen.

I finally did it.  I had a fireplace in my hips and the smoke was making my head light, and the heat was making my arms and cheeks sweat.  I slid the soft, smudged envelope open and found seven, handwritten, cursive notebook-lined pages inside.  My heart raced as a touched and stared at the pages.  Caleb really struggles with writing.  It is one the qualities he hates most about himself, and wishes he was better at.  This must have taken him forever to write.  Seven pages for him was like an end of semester assignment.   These words were labored over.  He chose them difficultly and carefully.  As I read, I entered a world from which I've not yet recovered:

Dear Kristen, I don't even know how or where to start this letter... I hope I can get what is in my heart out on paper.  As you know, I can't write half as good ["well." ;) ha.] as you.  Hopefully it will make sense, but I'm sure you'll understand because you always seemed to know what I was trying to say, even when I struggled to get it out.  You would always wait so patiently on me to try to find the words to speak.  Makes me cry just thinking about it.  So, where do I even start?

He went to describe his desire for fulfillment in life.  How he desired to set goals and then achieve and conquer them.  Though he knew "only God can fulfill," he couldn't help but create good, "biblical" targets to shoot for, and goshdarnit, if he was going to shoot for it, he was going to hit the bulls-eye.  If it was buying land and building a house, or having time with the Lord in the morning, or becoming an incredible violinist, he was not going to fail ("by the strength of God!" of course).  His ability to successfully complete and "get" what he set out for ("to the glory of God!" of course), became his source of hope.  And the highest "priority" in his world was finding and securing a wife.  In his imagination and mind, the process of "finding" this girl was a very specific, narrow road.  He would feel X, he would pray and "hear from God" and talk with his parents which would lead to a phone call to her father, if she also felt X and the father approved, they could move forward into "courtship" where they would work out the practical details that needed to be in place before marriage, and then they'd get married!  All the while, the feelings of passionate love and the assurance of God's approval would never be in question.  Before the process even began, he would know that "this is it."

He then went into detail about how stupid and selfish this way of life was.  He assessed things in life based on how they pleased him, and worked how he wanted them to.  He said he did this with me.  He spent so much time evaluating me and trying to decide if I was "everything" he wanted; if I was a good fit for his hypothetical "success marriage."  In the process, he managed to fearfully and selfishly hurt me.  He apologized.

Your faith and trust in God makes you unshakeable and you are resting in Him.  But, I know I disappointed you and hurt your heart.  I was a coward, and for that I am ashamed.  

Somehow I thought I was supposed to feel totally "crazy" over you, and since I wasn't I couldn't go forward.  Now I see that this was wrong.  We would have to move forward to see if were were crazy about each other.  But I guess I confused "I like you a lot" and "I'm in love with you."  I realize now how much I want to see if we could fall in love, if you could be the girl I lay my life down for.  I think if you and I were in love, we could do anything.  

There was a lot of letter left.  He couldn't possibly spend the rest of the letter apologizing?  Right?  There has to be something more.  I struggled between reading faster to see what else he had to say, and reading slow to soak in every precisely chosen word.

...Kristen, I miss you.  Not because you are a girl and I miss "talking to a girl."  No, I miss "Kristen."  I can't believe I let you go.  Dang, I think I'm going to cry again.  Oh, Kristen.  What was I thinking?

...I think I have lost all your trust (and your family's and friend's, too).  You deserve a fairy-tale story.  I blew the chance you gave me and I regret it with tears.   The hard reality sets in on me that I may not have the amazing chance of you again.  But I'm tired of sitting around, doing nothing, listening to my fears when the girl of my dreams is passing by.  So, I want to date you.  I want to be your guy.  And if I get burned, I get burned.  Whatever the risks are, I'll take them.

...I can't say I know you are "the one" but I believe this is what God wants me to do.  And if He wants me to get hurt, or for this to not work out, I trust Him.  His goodness and ways are better than mine.  If that would be the way He wants to make me more like Him, then "so be it Lord."

...I realize that this will be hard and I'll likely have to go through hell, but I will.  I can't blame you if you don't desire this, but you can't blame me when there is a girl like you... I can't help but try.  I want to earn your trust, no matter what it takes.

...I would like to ask you a question:  Kristen Leigh, would you let me have the privilege  of going out with an angel like you? Would you go out with me?

Sincerely, Cowboy

"There's a want and there's a need //There's a history between
Girls like you and guys like me // Cowboys and angels"

ps.  I understand that you will probably need time to pray and think about this.  You might never respond at all.  There is no pressure.  I just had to let you know where I was at.  

pps.  There's a song that pretty much says it all, Snipey.  It's called "I Told You So" by Randy Travis + Carrie Underwood.

My mind was in scrambles.  Did I just read this? What is happening?  Oh my gosh.  Without thinking too hard or too long, I ran to my computer and turned it on.  ComeoncomeoncomeoncomeOOOOOON.  Finally I was able to open Safari and YouTube search "I Told You So."  The short instrumental intro began.  I had chills so bad that they hurt.  Carrie sorrowfully and heavily and beautifully sang the first verse.

Suppose I called you up tonight
And told you that I love you?
And suppose I said I wanna come back home?
And suppose I cried and said I think I've finally learned my lesson?
And I'm tired of spending all my time alone? 

If I told you that I realized you're all I ever wanted
And it's killing me to be so far away
Would you tell me that you love me too?
And would we cry together?
Or would you simply laugh at me and say
"I told you so!"?

At this point I was weeping.  Weeping.  Goat-face, double-chin, stumbling, gasping, chugging, drooling, out-of-control weeping.  Before the first chorus even finished, I stood up and sprinted out of my house with the letter gripped tightly in one hand, keys in the other.  Barefoot, and without even shutting the door into my house, I jumped steps, ran along the sidewalk and grass, and let the rain join me on my race.  Quite wet, I found my car in the parking lot and I squealed away, forgetting to buckle my seat belt, turn on my headlights and even start the windshield wipers.  After I zipped around the corner (with no accidents or police tickets) I parked in front of Janet and Becca's house (only two-three minutes away.)  I slammed open the door, the only thing knocking were my knees.  Out of breath, I stood in the entry way, waving the letter in the air.  They both turned around from the table, where they and Audrey were eating lunch.  "What does it say?"  Without a word, I handed it Becca.  Janet stopped feeding Audrey and ran behind Becca to read over her shoulder.  I paced in the family room, cracking my knuckles, smoothing my palms and running my hands up and down my waist.  Audrey sat there in her bib, probably eating sour cream.

Both ladies finished reading and said something along the lines of:  Wow.  He is a different person.  God really changed him.  This is so exciting.  Are you happy?  What do you think?

I had not fully processed the letter.  How do you even begin?  I was going to Florida to see my family the very next day, so I wanted to talk with my parents in person before I gave Caleb my answer.  After I arrived in Florida, I excitedly and nervously showed my parents the letter.  I was starting to get afraid. What if he hurts me again?  I don't *have* to do this.  My mom understood my fears - and though she thought the letter was very nice, she wasn't "sold."  She knew it was my decision, but she also had some serious questions for Caleb.  My dad, on the other hand, said "Who are you kidding?  This letter had you at hello."

I prayed and thought and talked and came to a few conclusions.  First, Caleb was right.  He did need to earn my trust back.  While love is unconditional, trust is not.  Trust in someone is based on their trustworthiness.  Second, my mom was right.  There were some serious questions to be asked and worked through.  I was not about to be a naive girl.  I decided that the only way I would even consider dating him was if he gave me his word that he would come to Maryland for at least a month.  I wasn't willing to endlessly date long-distance and go back to how things were before.  We needed to be in person.  I needed to see what he was like with my friends.  With me, day in and day out.  Did we get bored of each other?  Would he back out again?  It was final.  Come and try, or stay and move on. But, third, my dad was right.  This letter had me from hello.  I mean, hello, the sharp-jawed, blue-eyed, magical country man had been thinking about me the that whole time.  I missed me.  AND!  Not only did he want to try this now, he was changed.  He was brave!  I'd prayed for him to be brave!  And he didn't used to be very brave!  But he was just so vulnerable... and brave! And he missed me.  And. I'd be praying for him!  And missing him, too!  Now I needed to be brave.  Caleb might not be that ready to date me.  He might not be comfortable with the pressure of coming so soon.  What will he do for work?  His job is a family business... it's not like he could transfer to a different Ruby Tuesday location.    Where will he live?  He doesn't even own a vehicle.  "His" truck is the company truck he shares with the family.  His land.  He'd be leaving his house, halting production and slowing down it's process.  He'd be leaving home and family for the first time ever.  I know it might only be for a month, but that is still significant.  It wasn't a vacation with friends for a month.  This was a huge step, meaning so much more than just "moving."  It was breaking free from spiritual bonds, it was proceeding even though the fire might burn him.   I couldn't pad it softly for him.  I couldn't make arrangements for him.  If he wanted to try this with me, he could come here and figure it out.  And I needed to trust God that even if he wasn't ready for that, and if Caleb left my life once again, that I would be okay.  

Caleb texted and responded to my e-mail.  He promised he'd call at 8:00 pm that night.  When he called, exactly at 8:00, not a minute sooner or later, he sounded wide-awake and shaky.  I cut right to the chase.  Within a few minutes of our conversation I said "So, look.  The only way I would consider this is if you came to Maryland.   For, like, a month.  Or six weeks.  I don't want to do long-distance with you.  And, I mean, this isn't like a formula, or anything, like, I don't want it to be this pressure-timer that beeps and we have to know something, but I think I'll know you a lot better after a month in person.  Enough, I hope, to really trust you.  And even know where my feelings and desires are. And where yours are.  It's okay if it doesn't work.  Not that I don't want it to.  I mean, you know what I mean?  This will go a long way for me trust-wise.  And I'm not comfortable being... your... girlfriend unless I know you're coming and we can try this in real-life.  Being on the phone and together once a month on weekends isn't real life.  It's too hard.  And we aren't in love. And. That's it.  That's what I have to say."

Caleb is never one to jump quickly into a sentence.  He thinks long and hard before he speaks (sometimes too long and too hard.)  But he surprised me when he almost interrupted me.  "Kristen.  I'm coming.  I was already thinking that before you said anything.  I'll come.  As soon as possible.  I'll figure it out.  You're totally right - this will help prove to you how serious I am.  I hope it will help you trust me.  I'll work at McDonald's if I have to, and live in a hotel if that's what it takes.  I'm coming."

My eyes filled with warm, singing tears.  Who was this guy?  Hulll.OOH.  I couldn't believe what God had done.  "Does this mean you'll go out with me?"  This time I was the one who was slow to speak.  Not because I was unsure, but because I was so overwhelmed.  "Yes.  It does.  That is what this means."  We talked for another three hours.  I dreamily wandered inside, fully unaware that my evening outside had given me almost 100 bug bites.  Caleb stormed outside, and ran circles around the yard, screaming and jumping and fist-pumping. 

Ladies and gentleman, let the games begin.  Caleb Morris and Kristen Leigh were a couple.  Finally.  

(to be continued...) 

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Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 11

"every heart is a package 
tangled up in knots someone else tied."
josh ritter - kathleen

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

The loud silence after we hung-up sat on my heart.  The rest of the Las Vegas trip was emotional, discouraging and heart-thupping.  Besides the whole "the boy I like doesn't want to date me" thing, there were other family, friendship and even just business issues I felt like I was delicately holding in my hands, like thin wine glasses or intricate tea cups.  I couldn't hold them all at once, and the harder I clenched my fists, the faster they snapped in my hands, cutting flesh before they fell to the ground and broke even further.  With bloody hands, my numbness was frequently interrupted by shrieks of my pounding heart.

I felt guilty for actions I had done.  I felt like "the innocent victim" for things I hadn't done.  I felt helpless when other people were hurting and there was nothing I could do to take away their pain.  It was Caleb, it was everything.  It was a trip where it all crashes down on you - every flaw and hardship in your life seem to be competitively racing each other to win at beating you down.  "Little" things like a bad acne break-out.  Does that make sense?  It was all-encompassing.  Er, it felt all-encompassing.

I would escape to my hotel room anytime I could.  When I was up there I would either cry or read Alyssa Welch's Love Story.  I felt incapable of having a meaningful conversation with anyone, I felt like photography WAS STUPID SO GET OUT OF MY FACE, I felt like I was a failure everywhere I turned.  Crying soothed that like a good aloe vera to my life burn.  Alyssa related to that with her clear, vulnerable writing about her heart and life.  She used to have a music player at the bottom of her blog and I'd listen to one of the songs on repeat.

"I searched for love, but then the night came

And closed in.

I was alone, but you found me

Where I was hiding.

It was the sweetest voice that called my name, saying:

'You're not alone, for I am here.'"

I felt so hidden away in the middle of a ridiculous (and frankly awful) city in the desert.   Besides my roommate and two or three others, no one knew who I was for miles and miles.  You know that feeling of "if I disappear from here, no one will notice at all"?  But I sang my broken, messed-up little heart out.  

"You cry your self to sleep, cause the hurt is real

And the pain cuts deep.

All hope seems lost, with heartache your closest friend,

 And everyone else long gone, 

You've had to face the music on your own, 

But there is a sweeter song that calls you home."

Meredith Andrews isn't my favorite or preferred Christian artist, but man, that song spoke to my stitched up spirit and helped keep it kind-of together.  I don't know how many times I listened to, quoted and sang those lyrics.  

• 2/29/2011 "Again, here I am saying: 'Wow. I did not expect that.'  This time last week I was hugging a boy at the security gate, excited for when we'd talk next and anxious to be his 'official' girlfriend.  One week (and a few texts and one phone call) later I've 'walked away' from the relationship, as it was clear that Caleb was too fearful to move on... Another surprising aspect of that weekend was how much I like him now! Somewhere between making lunch at 1 am, doing mexican hat dances at 3 am, piggy-back and four-wheel rides and porch swing conversations (Oh.  And big hugs in those arms of his. Dang. Dang. Dang.)  I like him.  Watching him with his sisters, watching him with his mother, watching him with me... something flipped!  I like him!  Like, "like-him" like him.  And now I wish I didn't... Did he ever really like me? I sometimes feel like he was just a 23-year-old single guy with hormones, and I came along with straight blonde hair and enough personality to be entertaining and enough character to be 'an option'... but did he like me?  Did he enjoy and become friends with Kristen Snyder?  A real girl?  Or was I just something that met a desire, provided attention and kept him company.  Ugh.  I feel like all my girly insecurities are coming out:  you weren't pretty enough, you weren't good enough.  Number one: I need to remember that it's OK if I'm not right for him and that he wasn't feeling it.  That's really fine.  And number two:  my heart is what matters.  I do believe I treated him respectfully, carefully and kindly.  I prayed for him and grew to genuinely care for him more than myself.  He and his returned affections are not my hope... Part of me wants to hang on to Caleb, but the other part knows I need to move on, and not mope around and wait!... 'Because He is my right hand, I shall not be shaken.'  God. Is. Still. Good.  I'm dissapointed, surely.  But in God? No.  No, His power is made perfect in my weakness.  And He doesn't give me gifts because I need them; those things don't fill a need.  He satisfies me completely.  His gifts bless me - God through His gifts bless me. But they are not my right, nor my salvation.  'He gives and takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.' 'The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places, therefore my heart is glad!'

Before I knew it, I was home.  I couldn't help but poetically notice how the weather was so similar to my soul.  Empty, bleak, cold.  Too far into winter to have frosty, crispy, snowglobe, magical cheer.  Too far from spring to have sunshine, refreshment, color and hope.   Days ticked by dreadfully slowly. Nights were even slower.  I slept in until 11:30 am or later.  I cried every day.  If I went out to keep busy or distract myself, I still had to come home and be alone.  Being out made me want to be alone, being in made me want to be out.  I was actually shocked at how much I had been crying about life, about Caleb.  I'm the sort of a girl who stores up her tears in a big Drops Bucket and doesn't let them out until the whole thing tips over.  Tears don't come again for a long time - until the Drops Bucket is filled all the way back up again.  But I was crying daily.  Not misty-eyed or wet-eyed.  Crying.

I cried reading old texts from Caleb.  Then I deleted all my texts from Caleb so I couldn't read them anymore.  Then I cried that I deleted them.  I threw away a print I had of Caleb holding my yellow scarf.  I took out the trash, but it in the dumpster, did away with it!  But then I changed my mind and wanted it back, and the trash truck had already come.  I cried.   That whole week that only thing I could muster up the energy to do was prepare for my end-of-year team party.  I distinctly remember how much energy and effort it took to go to Michael's to get the supplies to make a little banner.  It felt so hard.

The day of the basketball party, I had a meeting with a pastors wife (Autumn's mama!) and small group of girls from church.  We had these get-togethers once or twice a month.  I had to leave early, but I had missed the last five or so meetings so I felt bad not at least appearing ;)  My plan was to come in, sit down, say nothing and leave.  But as Mrs. Pastor Wife Who Makes Beautiful Children started she said "Since you have to dip out early, lets start with you Kristen.  How has life been for you?"  My bucket tipped.  I don't know what was coming faster: my words or my tears.  It was the crazy, deep, kind of dump where I couldn't catch my breath, people knowingly handed me tissues, snot was all of my face and when I finally finished the room was silent, aside from confused blinks (which, when you are that emotional, you can hear.)  Courtney, my best friend and assistant coach, finally said "She's never like this.  If she's crying, it's serious."  Her comment actually made me laugh - and I used that light note to excuse myself and leave.  That evening was the first enjoyable evening I had had in what felt like months (though, really, I had been at Caleb's house less than ten days ago.)  It was the first night I felt connected with what I was doing, and not detached thinking about what could have been.  Thank you, God, for my basketball team!

getting dressed up ALWAYS helps. always.

With a spark of motivation, I came up with an idea as I was driving the next morning.  I had spent so.much.time. thinking about my life (ha. And by that I mean: Caleb) and it really wasn't producing anything.  It wasn't making Caleb come running back to me.  It wasn't making me happy or joyous.  It wasn't blessing or uplifting me.  All my thoughts (and phone calls to my parents where I would cycle back through the details over and over again) were halting me.  I needed to pray.  As I turned from 118 to Century Boulevard that actual, vocal thought came into my head "Stop thinking.  Start praying."

• 3/8/11 " 'He bowed the heavens and came down, He came swiftly on the wind.  He took me; He drew me out of many waters.  He rescued me... the Lord was my support.  He brought me into broad places, because He delighted in me.' (It's 12:15 am and I'm journaling and crying... who am I?!?)  I don't know exactly why Caleb is on my mind so much & why I've been so emotional and cry-ey about all of this.  Part PMS, I'm sure.  Part embarrassed at 'not being liked enough.' Part lonely.  Part missing the friendship.  Part fearful.  And part... girl?  Lord, I have no good apart from you.  And please help Caleb as he supervises the big Texas job [I had gotten that information from his mother's blog].  Spiritually work in his life through his physical work.  Amen."

From then on, I purposed that every time (every time... which was all the time) Caleb came into my head, I was going to pray for him.  Not for "us."  Or for his feelings.  Or for him to change his mind.  Just him.  Turn my anger/worries/upset-nesses/instant-replays/doldrums into something powerful and effective.  My dear friend Nadia reminded me of the classic truth: "The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  This was the first time I felt like I understood what "guard your heart" meant.  That phrase seems to mostly be used when talking to girls about emotional purity - it's a thing I do.  I often strove to "guard my heart!  Don't get too attached too soon!"  The phrase echoed off of Nadia's lips:  the peace of God will guard your heart and mind.  It's not something I do, it's something He does!  How do I access this protecting peace?  With a heart full of thanksgiving, present my requests to God.

   

In my journal I assigned 30 pages to prayer requests to pray over the next 30 days for Caleb.  At the top of each page I wrote "Day __" and the prayer of the day.  It went something like this:  D 1 / Know God's Love, D 2 / Trust God's Plans, D 3 / Be a Man of Worship, D 4 / Be a Man of Prayer, D 5 / Be a Man Who Loves Counsel, D 6 / Be a Man Who Studies Scripture, D 7 / Be a Servant, D 8 / Be a True Leader, and on for 30 days.

The plan was to immediately start praying for the "topic" of the day if I started thinking/wandering/worrying about Caleb.  I wrote out my prayers for him.  Each day had one full page.  The first day, on March 15, I wrote:  

• "D-1 / Know God's Love.  'I have called you by name, you are mine, you are precious in My eyes, and honored, and I love you.' Isaiah 43  'How deep the Father's love for us // How vast beyond all measure // That He should give His only Son // To make a wretch His treasure //'  Dear God, today I lift up Caleb and specifically ask that Your great love for him would effect his heart today, and would change his life altogether.  You love Caleb with a complete, final, perfect, sustaining love - in fact, You ARE love!  You've proven Your love, promised Your love, and given Your love.  And that can never, ever be taken away.  Please help him to drown under, run free in and delight in Your love.  Show him more!  Make it sweeter!  More precious!  More wonderful!  And let Your example and character of love rule his heart, dwell in his mind and drive his actions.  Thank you for giving us the greatest thing: You. Amen."

[Now, let me pause the story for a brief moment of "WAIT!"  If you are not a Christian, this all may seem odd, irrelevant, boring-and-the-part-to-skip-over, or dumb.   I know that.  I hope my sureness of what and who I believe is at the very least respectable to you, and at the very most intriguing.  If you ever would like to share with me your thoughts on God and life, or ask me about mine, I'd love to have a conversation (or seven!) with you.  And I'd love to know you.  You have the chance to get to know me (the very real - eek! sometimes scarily real! - me), and I'd be tickled to have a chance to get to know you.  I love people.  And new people.  And people who think differently than I do.   And if you are a Christian:  please don't look at this as a formula.  Please don't go make a prayer journal for the boy you like so someday you can write a story like Kristen and Caleb.  Instead, please know God and let Him work in your life differently than He worked in mine.  It's supposed to happen that way.  I'm not a journaler, I'm not a "disciplined pray-er," I'm not flaunting a new system. This was HUGE for me.  And something I haven't even done since.  I'm sharing with you this really, really cool thing God did in my heart while I worked through tears, questions and unrequited butterflies.  And God probably has a really, really cool way He wants to meet and help you wait, wonder and thrive through heartache seasons.  Alright.  That should do it.]






The brilliantly happy result of all these prayers was that I did indeed experience peace.  I felt happy and eager to see people.  I went to Varsity sports games as a fan, I went to Vancouver on a whirlwind trip to visit Jamie, I went to an FCA banquet (I even tried to look nice in case I met someone! Or whatever.)  Rock-climbing, volleyball, shooting and blogging weddings, engagement shoots, proposal shoots, decorating, cooking, shopping, planning Europe trips, and I even announced a FunShop Photography Workshop I'd be hosting.  But I'll also be honest, I did quite a bit of blogging with the not-so-secret hopes that Caleb might possibly be reading.  This post about "my weekend"?  Ha.  I just wanted Caleb to know I had bought a pair of white jeans - he always said those were his favorite.  Or how about this post where I cheerfully (and truthfully) and publicly dream about having a future as a wife and mom?  No, no, no, this one is even better: airplane thinking... not Caleb Morris thinking.  If I didn't make myself totally obvious with this post (titled:  The Heart of A Girl. Ouch), then this post where I posted a video of singing animals chanting "No Fear" on the quest to find true love.  Don't even worry about my "preach-y" commentary.  Of course, however, the post on my personal blog about "People of Faith" takes the cake and the gold.

But praying really was a fantastic part of my days and life.  I had never spent such focused, concentrated time praying for one person before.  And my concerns and insecurities really were fading. I felt bold.  I felt brave.  I felt not-pathetic. 

At the end of March I took a Fake Family Vacation to Florida with Dre and Becca.  We went to go see my family, to watch the Nationals pre-season training games, and go to the beach and Disneyworld.  We "accidentally" got stuck in Florida together the year before, so we always joked about going again - just the three of us.  Once my family moved to Florida, it was a no-brainer.  We had to go.  

Baby Behr was on this trip with us, and none of us knew!  She found out she was pregnant after she got home.  If you ever want to hear some funny stories, just ask me about lunch at Wolfgang Puck ;)

While we were at Disney Dre posted a picture of us in front of Cinderella's castle on his Facebook.  When we were driving home, I scrolled through all my notifications.  "Caleb Morris liked a photo that you were tagged in."  Heart stop. Gulp.  Aaaah.  This was the first "communication" we had had in weeks.  That little "like" of a photo was so much more than just a like.  Caleb hadn't liked, commented, texted or talked to me.  And he had barely posted anything (I think maybe just one Bible verse) in that one month span of "break-up."  That "like" meant that he had at least seen a picture of me today!  It meant he had to have thought about me today!  I wonder what he thought?  Why did he like it?  I know for a fact that he has liked lots of girls pictures "just because."  But, I know I'm not just another girl to him.  I'm the first girl he ever talked to on the phone.  Pray.  Prayer. Praying.  Pray.  Day 13 was pray that Caleb would "be a man who loves grace."  I prayed.  And stopped checking Facebook.

It's hard to summarize what those 30 days were like.  I feel like I could almost do a chapter of each day by itself.  But this story needs to press forward.  Those days included leaning on my entry-way wall after coming home at night.  In the darkness I zoned out by staring at the car lights outside my window while an Aaron Zigman classic played on repeat.  I thought about how badly I'd like to slow dance with Caleb and tell him how I forgive him for everything, if he'd just have me back.  Those days also were some of the most motivated, upbeat, sunny days I've ever experienced.  My feelings for Caleb were fading.  There wasn't much to hold onto and my grip was slipping.  I liked the idea of eventually meeting somebody else.  Or being single for a while.  I read and wrote a lot.  I felt like I was thinking smarter, deeper and better than I ever had before.  Caleb and his mysterious entrance and departure in my life was a chapter that was being closed.  I decided that after 30 days I wouldn't continue my planned prayers for him.  My mind was (mostly) elsewhere and I didn't need to keep that habit up.  

April 14 just so happened to be the last day of my journal entries and prayers for Caleb, and also the day I picked up his sister Anna at the airport.  She was interested in furthering her photography business, and we had texted frequently between the Christmas trip and that day.  She asked if it would be alright with me if she applied for the FunShop (or if that would be weird?).  I told her that it would be perfectly fine with me!  We were friends, after all, and I knew she'd love to see "the big city," do something new and share her country spunk with us East Coasters.  The moment I saw her I knew I had made a big mistake.  Not with her... she was wonderful.  But with myself.  "I shouldn't have said she could come.  What was I thinking?  This is going to be miserable."  Just by talking with a Morris family member all my "done-away-with" feelings came galloping back into the pasture of my heart and belly.  "Great.  Now I'm going to have to get over him all over again.  I thought I had taken care of this."  And, not only was I going to have to battle my little emotions again, I was going to have to completely hide this battle from his sister - and the other two girls.  

At our first dinner together Anna set her phone on the table.  While she was talking it buzzed and "Text Message: Caleb Morris" shone forth from the screen.  For a split second I thought that was my phone and that the text was for me.  Then reality harshly reminded me of truth. They continued texting throughout the meal.  Peeerfection.  I barely ate.  The next morning at breakfast, before the other girls arrived, I decided to have a conversation with Anna.  "Hey, so, I just want to let you know:  I'm your friend.  And you're here for photography.  And I don't want anything that happened with your brother to make that awkward or strange for us.  You haven't seemed weird to me, but I just want to get that out there.  I won't ask about him, nor will I talk about him.  And please don't go repeat anything back to him.  I want you to be free to just enjoy your trip and get your money's worth!  I'm really doing well, moved right along and am very happy.  So we're good, right?"  She wholeheartedly agreed with me.  But no sooner had I said that did Caleb "happen" to wish Anna a good morning via text.   That night I didn't fall asleep until after 4:00 am, and woke up an hour or two later.  He was on my mind completely.  During bathroom breaks I'd scroll through pictures of him on Facebook.  I was dying to know what he was saying to Anna.  Was it about me?  It had to be.  At least a little?  Did he wonder how I was doing? Did he wish he was here too?  Was he just an excellent brother who kept tabs on his sister and cared when she was away from the family?  And liked to keep in touch with her?

The FunShop was a success.  I think.  The girls said it was.  Right, girls?  Even though Rachel asked me seventy-bajillion times who that boy was in the pictures I had to scroll past daily when I imported my iPhone pictures to iPhoto.  "One of my friends."  "But... isn't that...?"  "Alright!  Ladies!  Open up your brand boards and we're going to talk about..."  And they may have wondered why we listened to "Little Bit Stronger" by Sara Evans so many times.  It's catchy, k?  It totally wasn't my anthem or anything.  Who has an anthem?  America?  Yeah.  Not meeeee.  Kind of.  I kind of didn't have an anthem.

We really had a wonderful time and enjoyed our mornings, days and nights together.  They were my little family for a few days, and made me feel more like a fellow sister than a "mentor" or "teacher."  It's rare to find a group of strangers than gels like that. But God knew.   And it worked magically.

The morning of April 19th I took Anna to the airport.  To send her away.  To Oklahoma.  To the man I missed more than ever.  The weather was rainy, but traffic was non-existent.  I gave her a good hug and sent her on her way.  The hour-long car ride back to my apartment went surprisingly quickly.  It would have been the perfect weather to sulk in.  Or to listen to sad country songs.  Little Bit Stronger, anyone?  But I think I listened to classical music most of the drive... maybe some good ol' family-friendly radio.  I didn't feel gloomy.  I thought about Caleb the entire time, but it didn't make me "sad" - it made me wonder and think, but not lose myself in that vicious downward spiral of old memories.

When I walked into my apartment I saw a pink gift sitting on the table.  I figured one of the girls had left it and I very casually went to the table to open it.  I was right: it was from Anna, and it was very sweet.  At the end of the note she she said: "Make sure you check your mail today!"  I wasn't quite sure if that was some inside joke I had forgotten or a real hint, but nonetheless, I hadn't gotten my mail the entire time the girls were in town, and the next morning I was leaving to go see my family in Florida again.  I should probably go get my physical inbox emptied out.

With keys in hand I walked down the concrete steps to the courtyard where our metal, on-the-wall mailboxes lived.  The groundskeeper said hello as he walked by.  "Hello!" The key got a little jammed. I could tell the box was filled.  Oops.  I finally opened the tiny metal door and saw a box crammed with magazines, letters and flyers. And then, there it was.  A worn, taped envelope.  Thick. Smudged.  And from Caleb Morris of Coyle, Oklahoma.  I turned into Lady Tremaine when she saw Cinderella pull out the other glass slipper.  Caleb Morris had sent me mail.  Oh my my my.

(to be continued...)

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Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 10

you act like you’re hip to their tricks 
and you’re strong
but a virgin-wurlitzer-heart never once
had a song
josh ritter | kathleen

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 -- His trip to Maryland had been wonderful, and the wonder hazed over me for a few days. My affection towards him remained positvely-fickle, but my respect only grew.  When I felt, I felt hard.  And when I didn't feel, I was wicked scared.  I really wanted to turn my brain off and stop.thinking.about.this.SO.MUCH.  I wanted to enjoy getting to know him!  I wanted to feel no pressure!  I wanted to be relaxed and calm!  I wanted to look forward to my future, and not dread it!  But I couldn't seem to sustain that desire for very long.  I was so emotional.  This wasn't a mess like "oh, I spilled the Cheerios and now I need to sweep them up."  This was a "someone dumped milk and maple syrup and bread crumbs on the carpet" situation.

Looking back, I really often wonder why I didn't just stop talking to him.  I try to think about what it was that kept me going.  And I can come up with some guesses, I suppose.  But after all my attempts, all I can say is that there was something.  I couldn't stop.  I couldn't walk away.  I couldn't give up just yet.  Maybe it was stubbornness, pride and a desire to avoid being embarrassed.  But that would be weird for me, because I had a history of ending "talking" with guys - guys I knew liked me - when I just didn't feel the same way in return.  I knew the difference between flattery and true interest.  I knew that attention always felt good, but that I wasn't a performer in a show.  I tried hard to treat men kindly and respectfully. I had made the hard decision, multiple times, to be honest and not continue something (even a casual something) when I knew where I stood.   My dad didn't have the conversations for me.  I had to uncomfortably squirm in my seat, and look in his face (or avoid his face), or dial his number and say some hard things. I knew I could do it.   I just didn't want to that this time!  I wanted to keep talking.  I wanted to figure out this blonde puzzle.  The best word I can use is: drawn.  I was drawn to him.  And his Maryland trip only reenforced that with steel and iron.

January came to a close, like our phone calls: eventually and after a long time.   He seemed more comfortable with me.  He laughed more.  Had more stories to tell.  Came to our phone calls with questions for me.  He was sweeter and sillier.  He was more candid.  The little pauses in-between topics slowly disappeared.  (You know how it is when you're first trying to know and impress a person.  Before you speak you gather up a brainful of conversations and questions in a little mental basket to divvy out as needed.  Then the moment comes!  The moment of silence!  And it seems that the basket must have been eaten by some hungry grizzly bears, or carried away by a swarm of bees, or at least dumped out in the grass and strewn all about.  And instead of listening to what the Person To Impress is saying, you're balmy over what to say next.  We were past that point... mostly.)

I liked our routine.  I liked that he'd never miss a call.  I liked when he'd slip up and tell me more than he meant to about how he felt about me.  It was just so nice.  I felt a little like a-Laura-Ingalls-Wilder-girl at the General Store talking to Henry or Benjamin while purchasing string and peanuts for a nickel.  It was the simple, good life!  And very curious, too.

"When is this boy going to ask me out?  I'm not going to sit around here, being 'taken' but not 'taken' forever.  And I'm never going to know how I really feel about him until we can spend some quality time together... and I'm sure not going to be chasing HIM around this country.  I've clearly already done my fair share."  But then an idea crossed my head.  I would be flying to Las Vegas for a photography convention the last week of February.  I already had my tickets bought, but SouthWest is a dear and lets you change your itinerary for free after you've paid for flights.   I casually mentioned to Caleb that I could maybe stop in Oklahoma for a few days "on my way." (Psh. On my way.  Hahah.)  His voiced glowed when he told me I had to come.  "It's not a choice!  You're coming."  Within a few hours his mother texted me that she was going to have her annual Valentines Party the weekend I was coming.

"Hm.  Valetines.  A little cheesy, but certainly the perfect time for him to ask me out."  Once I knew I was going to see him again - soon - my heart and belly got more and more excited.  Don't worry, I spent days working on my outfits.  Janet, Becca and Audrey even came over one afternoon to let me try on everything for them.  They helped me find a new shirt to go with the wide-leg trousers and three-quarter sleeve blazer, and new shoes to wear with my "ha-so-unpremeditated-and-easy" cardigan and jeans.  I lost a few pounds.  I highlighted and trimmed my hair.  I bought new make-up.  I used fake-tan-goodness.  I even made plans to cook lunch for over 30 people on Saturday (Caleb promised he'd help me...but come on, how impressive does it GET?!)  I had the recipes, the shopping list, the spices in little baggies all arranged in my suitcase.  And then the day before I was supposed to leave, I had a freak-out-blah day.  "I feel NOTHING.  What happened?  Where did everything go?!"  I actually even told Caleb that I didn't want to talk for the day... which I kind of can't believe I told him?... but he went with it!  I said that I needed to have some time alone, I needed to pray and it'd be a good "break" to help us anticipate seeing each other (at least I hoped.  And isn't that an awful thing to say to someone?!  He should have karate-chopped me through the phone.)

On February 17, 2011 I flew to Oklahoma, for the third time in five months (remember when I swore I'd never go to Oklahoma again? That was so cute).  I think I mostly remember being worried.  I don't remember ANY specifics of the day until I saw him.  I landed at night and Will Rogers Airport is usually deserted, but it especially was now.  All of the stores were closed.  I rounded the corner to the escalators and there was that cowboy, just as childlike as ever.  He was pacing in his jeans and grey OSU shirt.  He looked like a little boy telling a story to his mom while she's busy in the kitchen - in his own little world, moving all over the place, and sweet as the perfect strawberry.  The Feelings woke up from their nap.

He started to run to me, then slowed down, but then I had started to run to him, so now I was running and he was walking, so I slowed down too... and eventually we tumbled into a nice, efficient hello hug.  Man it was good to be with him.  We walked and talked and he was very proud of himself that he knew exactly how to get from the baggage claim, to the parking garage, to the highway, to home.  "I know my way around here.  These are my stomping grounds."  I could smell his cologne and fresh breath and dryer-sheet-clean shirt.

And he was staring, again.  The Caleb Stare was in Red Alert, even while he was driving.  We teased and flirted the whole drive.  I couldn't tell if he was staring at me just to egg me on ("AAAh! We're going to crash! STOP staring!  Look at the road!  I'm going to hide in the back if you don't focus on driving!") or if he really was so distracted that he couldn't help but look at me.   Within a few minutes of driving and almost-crashing, I assumed my favorite car-riding position:  rolled up with my feet flat on the airbag/glove compartment area.  "How can you do that?!  You're so tiny!"  Alright, mentally noted: I love when he calls me tiny.  "I can put my feet dow..." "Oh no!  Don't.  I like it when they're like that.  You seem comfortable.  And... you.  I've never seen a girl do that before... and you just jump right in and put your little feet up... haha, yeah."  He'd look over at me with those movie-moment eyes and I'd starting screaming that we were going to get in an accident, while my heart rear-ended my ribcage.   It was one of the happiest hours of my life.

Once on the farm, we hugged and hello-ed his wonderful family.  We stayed up way too late talking and staring and kind-of leaning on each other.  The kids asked oh-my-gosh-SUCH-awkward questions like "Cib, are you gunna date her?" or "Do you want her to be your wiiife?"  We'd laugh and say "Oh no, we're just friends... just friends."  And then he'd keep staring at me.  Oh boy, I was a-fluuuuuter as I fell asleep.

The next day was Friday, and the day of the Valentines party!  The boys had to go to work all day (but of course Caleb snuck into my room to say "good morning!" before he left) and I had some shopping to do!  The oldest Morris girls, one of their friends and I spent most of the day at the mall and grocery store.  By the time we arrived back on the farm, we had to get ready!  I helped blow-dry, curl, tease, pin and spray hair.  I kept watching the clock, knowing that Caleb, my un-Valentine, should be arriving home any minute.  I hurried to get dressed and look super-duper-cute.  It was a glowing hour of buzz in a tiny girls bedroom, lined with wooden bunkbeds.  I was beginning to fall in love with these people and their home.  I never wanted to leave.  I just loved being with them - animals and all.

By the time guests started arriving to the party, I was excitedly wearing my new red Calvin Klein dress and my favorite navy heels.  I felt like a little girl window shopping at an expensive doll store.  I came out from the room and everything was so beautiful.  Hearts and lights and candles were everywhere.  Pasta sauce tickled our noses and teased our stomachs.  Fresh, warm bread was being sliced.  The wait-staff (all Morris children) were filling up glasses with cold drinks.  Caleb stood up wearing a crisp white shirt and silver tie.  I wouldn't have known the difference between Bingley's White Ball and this party.  I was enthralled.


Caleb and I stayed glued to each other's sides all night.  We had fine conversation with the other couples at our table.  We played ridiculous games that we did horribly at.  Caleb would "run into" my shoulder every few minutes.  I began to crave those "bumps."  It was splendid.  But at one point in the evening, while Caleb was taking out the trash or in the restroom, one of his good friends pulled me to the side and asked me some blunt questions.  "So, what are you thinking?  You like Caleb, huh?"  Being a girl who "knows when to hold 'em, knows when to fold 'em, knows when to walk away, knows when to run" (at least that's how I tried be) I was not about to spill my carefully kept feelings to Caleb's friend.  "If Caleb wants to know, he can ask me...out."  "But if he asked you out, you'd say yes."  My smile was giving everything away, but I tried to hold my ground.  "He hasn't asked me out."  The friends eye glimmered knowingly.  "That ol' dog needs to step up!"  "I'm not waiting around for him," I reminded.  Even though I had no one else on my mind or in my heart.  I just had to say that... to sound... tough.  Besides, he was far more smitten than I was.  A big conversation had to be coming.


After the beautiful party came to a close, Caleb and I did dishes and bumped shoulders and flirted.  Then we began to prep for the big Saturday lunch.  Caleb cut the meat, while I cut the vegetables... we worked until almost 2:00 am.  And before I knew it we were doing The Mexican Hat Dance in the family room.  Dad Morris came out more than once to tell us we were going to regret not getting some sleep.  We promised him we'd go to bed soon.  And then we were talking about, oh, wild hogs or generations of children promised to Abraham, or something.   But we kept our promise and did, eventually, go to sleep.  The next morning I popped out of bed like a piece of done toast.  I took a shower, straightened my hair, put my make-up on, wore my new t-shirt my un-Valentine had given me the night before and waited for MisterMister to wake up.  We had some lunch to prepare!  Another large family had made plans to drop by the Morris' for the day.  With about 23 children and seven or eight adults, this meal couldn't afford to be a disaster.  We pulled out our  marinated meat and produce and spent nearly an hour just skewering them.  Caleb seemed a little quiet  but hey! he's a quiet guy and we didn't sleep much at all.  He was still staring, bumping and shaking up my insides like a pro.

bang beef kabobs, hawaiian chicken kabobs and rice + corn salad.   i just... really outdid myself ;)  (with too-tough beef and under-cooked chicken.  oops!)

Right on time, the talented Lindsey family arrived after a long day or two of travel.  All 13 of them spend significant time performing across the country.  These musicians were in the middle of one of their family tours and pit-stopped for the weekend.  I felt like I had just started to get my bearings with the 12 Morris kids, but all of a sudden the cute faces and noise level doubled.  Don't get me wrong, I'm very comfortable with large groups and big families!  But I was feeling the pressure of serving fully-cooked, tasty food.  And all I wanted to do was stick by Caleb's side.  Of course I was introduced as "our friend, Kristen."  It was starting to get a little annoying.  Maybe we just need to have some time alone?  Maybe he wants it to be special, and not in the middle of so many people?  But I didn't have long to dwell on my ideas, for boys and men and girls and babies and moms needed to eat!

After lunch the Morris family wanted to show the Lindsey's the twins' property and start of their homes.    As everyone started making their way to vehicles, I found a big, grumbling diesel pick-up with the keys in, engine antsy and no driver.  Ha, I'm not going to be this clingy "friend" that can't stand on her own two feet!  I'm adventurous and brave, not measly and timid!  I slid into the passenger seat, and, of course, Caleb was right behind.  "What do YOU think you are doing?"  I smiled flirtatiously as I buckled the seat belt.  Soon hoards of other children were coming to see "the city girl" drive a truck.  Guys, I learned how to drive on a Suburban!  I drive the school's bus for basketball!  This is nothing! Calm down!  I secretly loved how impressed and shocked everyone was that I was driving.  I loved that Caleb's cheeks were a little red over there in the passenger seat.  I loved that he leaned as far over to me as physically possible without actually touching.  I just loved this.  I loved the happiness, the together-ness, the kindness, the hospitality, the people - "Good heavens.  People!" - I loved the feeling of home that was beginning to wrap me in it's arms.  I couldn't have been further from my real "home" but I really felt like I belonged, in my un-farm-educated, "high maintenance," sarcastic, "city" kind of way.

osu, caleb's house and "the stare" - a good summary of our weekend.

The more myself I acted, the more Caleb hung around.  The more Caleb hung around, the more I liked him.  The more I liked him, the more I wondered what he was thinking about "us."  Or rather, how soon he was going to make "us" official.  This trip was more than I had hoped it would be. Anyone who has ever gotten to know someone long-distance knows how important those days together, in "real life" are, and I was blissfully surprised with how well it all was going.  I nearly started crying when we went to Caleb's land.  He took me for a tour of his property on the four-wheeler.  He knew every bump and hill and pathway of those 20 acres.  He took me to his favorite hill in the woods and he described in poetic detail how the red buds look when the sun sets there in the spring.  He told me that he almost built his house on this hill, that someday he'd like to put a gazebo here instead.  I'll be honest, I was very distracted and had a hard time listening.  I just wanted to tackle him or kiss his nose.  I didn't though.  I didn't even put my arms around him on the 4-wheeler.  I held on tight to the back handles.  But I felt tipsy and almost sleepy.  Maybe dreamy is the word.  This was the best.  Caleb would look over his shoulder after all the big bumps to check on me and smile.  I don't know which I loved more.



After a day full of teasing, talking and feeling, Caleb announced that he was taking me out!  Yes!  This is it!  Finally!  Then I found out that he was taking some of his brothers and sisters with him, with us.  When his mom said "You can just go alone...?" he refused.  He insisted that Josiah and Hosanna come along.  It confused me slightly, but I couldn't help but appreciate his gentlemanliness and his love of his brothers and sisters.  Because, after all, we were not going to a sweet old fashioned diner in Guthrie.  Oh no.  We were going to a Monster Truck Rally.  It was... hilarious.  Besides that fact that you have to wear earplugs the entire time, so we couldn't talk at all, it was THE most "red-neck," country-bumpkin, cowboy-central event I'd ever been to in my life.  I was thoroughly amused.  After the rally was done, it was getting close to 11:00 pm and Caleb asked if I wanted to go see a movie.  I saw the little sleepy eyes walking with us and felt bad keeping them out so late.  But when they heard "movie" they perked up too.  It's not often that a 6 and 8 year old get to have such a late Saturday night ;)  "Gnomeo & Juliet" was playing, so the four of us bought tickets.  Oh. And. Haha.  Caleb carried me on his back from the parking lot to the theater.  Don't ask how that happened.   Okay, I'll tell you how it happened.  WE LIKED EACH OTHER! A LOT!  Hosanna strikingly declared while we walked "Cib, you don't give piggybacks to 'frieeeeends.'  Just sisters or..."  Siah elbowed her to stop.  She looked back at us and shrugged, "Just say-eeng."

ohhhhhklahoma where more than just wind comes from the plains ;)

I hopped down off his back and knew she was right.  After the movie we arrived home late and had to wake up early to go to church.  After church I found Caleb out front on the phone.  I was pretty sure he was talking to my dad - just to get final "go-ahead" from him.  He's an honorable, humble guy.  He wouldn't have it any other way.  I pretended not to notice, and when he returned from the call he seemed a little jittery and aloof.  So cute, so obvious.   We enjoyed another large lunch at a friends home, and by 4:00 we were headed to the Morris farm.  I had to leave around 5:30 am the next morning, so my final 12 hours with Caleb were closing in on us.  We were exhausted and giddy, sweet and ready.

"photoshoot" in the back of the car on sunday afternoon.  look how cute and charming i was wearing his baseball cap.

After the drive home, the rest of the kids jumped out of the car.  Caleb and I stayed in the backseat and poked each other, or something.  It got quiet and Caleb stared right into my eyes.  Oh my gosh. He smiled at me.  Oh. My. Gosh.  "Well," he started, "I want to be in a relationship with you."  Little Disney-fireworks of "yeeeeee-hawwwww!" started in my middle section and left heel.  He was talking slow, and seemed nervous.  I was trying so hard to be quiet and not just BLURT out "YES! I DO! I WILL!"  Up until this point I hadn't even told him I liked him, and now I was just unbelievably ready to get it out.  This trip was an answer to prayer.  The peace from God, the confirmation that we were right, the feelings I was so worried about, the incredible character and love on display in a simple family home.  I wanted it, badly - and the fact that I did was an answer to prayer in and of itself!  "I never knew how incomplete I was as a man, until I met you."  If any other man said that to me, I would have rolled my eyes and replied with a sarcastic pick-up line and immediate walk-away with nnnooOoo looking back.  But when Caleb said it, he meant it.  He meant everything he said.  He didn't play games or even really know any pick-up lines.

"photoshoot" continues...

"But, I'm scared."  YE-... hmmm? What?  "I'm not sure if I'm ready to, you know.  I don't know if my feelings are where.  How do you know if you're supposed to, how do you hear from God and know His will?" WHAAAAT?  "I don't know if you're 'the one' for me.  I like you!  But I'm not in love with you."  Oh my word.  We started on a multiple hours long conversation about Caleb's statements.  How you don't have to be in love in order to start dating.  How you actually probably *shouldn't* know someone is 'the one' before you start dating.  How the point of dating is to see if someone is 'the one.'  How dating is fun, pressure-free, exciting and a chance to build friendship and romance, not engagement.   All of a sudden I found myself talking him into dating me.  I spilled out that, yes, I like you! And you like me!  And we love God.  That's enough!  We can date!  "But I don't know if my feelings have grown for you."  Hmmm. Come again?  "What do you mean your feelings haven't grown?  Like, during this trip?"  "Oh no, like, since I met you."  Oh.  That's so nice.  That's good.  Very good.  "But you said you wanted to be in a relationship with me?  Why did you say that?"  "Well, I want to want to date you.  I want to know if it's what I'm supposed to do."  I was shocked.  I was embarrassed.  I was completely blind-sided.   He told me he just needed more time.  He knew we had so many good things, but he wasn't ready yet.  Could we still be friends, though?

He went on and on about his fears and concerns about being in a relationship.  He used the phrase "not at peace" frequently.  He repeated over that he didn't want to hurt me or "take a piece of my heart."  He said he didn't know how to hear from God.  It was a vicious cycle of confusion.  But one thing it was not: sweet.  Or romantic.  Or at all ready to date me.

We talked until it was dark, and then eventually came inside.  I still couldn't resist being around him, so we obviously spent the rest of the evening together.  We awkwardly ignored our major DTR, and just talked about anything else.  Before we went to bed we gave each other a big hug - a hug I'll never forget as long as I shall live.  It was a hug that gives angels their wings, give children their laughs, gives stories their climax, and gives hearts their beat.  It wasn't particularly long, but it was powerful.

The following morning I packed up, said good-bye to everyone and was chauffeured by my friend to the airport.  I wasn't sure what to say, but I knew I was still crazy about him.  Even though I didn't understand his thinking, actions and words.  He stared at me the whole time he drove.  Road, me, road, me, road, me, road, me.  He parked and helped me with my suitcase.  He walked with me all the way until the security line.  Before I went through he hugged me again.  I looked up at him and said "You're going to figure all this out?"  His eyes got teary and he said "I'll try."  He stayed put until I made my way through security and walked toward my gate.  We did our traditional "click's" to each other and I left.

I called my parents and told them everything.  I was trying to be optimistic.  "Maybe when he comes in March he'll be ready."  "Oh, he's not coming in March," my dad didn't-joke.  "This is ridiculous.  You don't need to be persuading him to date you.  He needs to be a man.  Does he like you?  Enough to date you? Then do it. He has enough information about you.  He knows what you're like and how he feels.  And he's certainly led you to believe that he had strong and growing feelings for you.  No, you need to stop talking to him.  This is the opposite of being a man."  I knew Dad was right.  But I didn't want to stop talking to him.  What a difference four days makes!  At the beginning of the trip, I asked to take a break from talking, and now I was devastated to realize that we had to stop talking!

To use the princess and knight in shining armor analogy:  I felt like I was the dear, prized princess up in the tower, and the knight was coming to slay the dreaded dragon and prove his love and win my heart! But as the knight approached, he cowered his head and tried to hide from the fearsome beast.  The princess began to call from the castle, "Hey!  Young knight!  If you wait until the dragon is asleep, you can sneak through this passage way and get to me safely!"  And then the knight called back "But what if he wakes up while I'm trying to do that?  I don't know how I feel about all this!"  So there I was, coaxing my "brave" man to come whisk me away, and he was retreating and terrified.  No, I couldn't keep calling from the tower, hoping my pleas would change his mind.  I needed to leave the window, shut my mouth and walk away.  I wanted someone to fight for me.  To face the fears of dating and relationships and hearts with courage and conviction.  Ha, I certainly did NOT want a guy who was so unsure of his feelings for me.  But... I just don't understand?  Why did he call all the time?  Why did he stare?  Why did he buy my presents? And tell me he missed me?  And that he was incomplete until he met me?  Why did he do that if he didn't have feelings - at least strong ones?  I did not expect this from him. I thought I could trust him.  I did trust him.  And now I feel stupid, lonely and quite rejected. But I really, really like this DUMB boy.  

I knew I needed to call him... soon.  I needed to tell him I was done and that I wasn't in a place where I could wait for him to figure it out.  I knew I had to mean it when I said it.  I knew I had to be willing to move on and walk away from this... this hard-working, tall, handsome, family-oriented, loving, amused, sweet, listening, generous man.  I sat at my gate in despair.  Then I looked up and saw a Southwest sign,  "It's hard to move on if you're standing still."  I don't even know what that has to do with airlines or the Southwest company, but it's like it was made for me.

God speaks in mysterious ways...?

I slept the entire plane ride, dreaming of happier things than my current circumstances.  Thankfully I was busy when I arrived in Vegas, so I was forced to do something, and not just sit in my hotel room and cry.  Caleb texted me "Headed to volleyball.  Man, do I wish you were here too."  WHY DOES HE WISH I AM HERE TOO?  WHY IS HE TELLING ME THAT?  Little liar.  WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO DATE ME?! DON'T YOU KNOW I COMPLETE YOU?!  I waited a while to respond.  When I did I wrote a cold "Fun."  When he wrote later that night I kept my answers one-word or less if I could.  I ended the texting conversation and told him we needed to talk in the morning.

my depressed view from my vegas hotel room ;)

And the next morning, I did it.  I called him and told him what every part of my heart didn't want to say.  I told him I was so sorry, but that I didn't think things were working out.  I felt like he had led me to believe he was very interested, when he apparently wasn't.  I told him that I didn't think it would be a good idea to keep being "just friends" and to talk the way we'd be talking.  I worked hard to not be overly emotional.  I said that I wasn't angry, just a little confused and hurt.  I said that at this point I was not interested in seeing if we could be in a relationship or anything "more."  The more I talked, the more I realized that the idea of him may have been so much sweeter than the reality of him.  He really was so confused, so unable to initiate, so stuck.  He had God-issues he needed to work through and learn, and I was not going to be his teacher.  It wouldn't be right.  I was the first girl he'd ever called on the phone.  That sounds charming at first, but comes with some glaring side effects.  I said good-bye.  He cried.  He agreed.  He was mostly quiet.  And that was the end.  In a broken fog, hung up the phone.

And all of a sudden, I was officially single and not "talking" with Caleb Morris anymore.  

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 9

the sails of memory rip open in silence

the white caps of memory

confusing and violent

josh ritter - change of time

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8--Shamefully nestled into my seat, knowing that the all the passengers were staring at me (I was sure of it), I pulled out my phone to text Caleb.  "Good bye!  Thank you for coming! I had a wonderful time with you."  The flight attendant gave my eyes.  I shut my phone off and literally within 90 seconds of sitting in my seat, the plane was moving to the runway.

I looked out my tiny window and scanned the big airport window.  Caleb was standing inside the giant window, watching the flying bird carrying his crush soar away into a rising sky.  He cried.  I couldn't see him but I knew he was standing there.  The sunrise.  The sudden departure.  The whole "event" of chasing this girl all the way down to Florida.  He couldn't help but cry.


A teary cowboy watched my plane until there was nothing more to watch and he moseyed over to his terminal.  He had to take a train and go through security again (all alone.)  He successfully found his building and security line, so he started through the still intimidating and not natural routine of "ID and boarding pass out, take shoes off, grab two bins, suitcase up, ID and boarding pass put away, boom, boom, wave through, grab your things, GET REDRESSED AND PACKED LIKE MAD."  Moving a touch slow for everyone's taste, he neatly set his wallet and phone in a gray box.  Then he decided to just stick them inside his lady-leather carry-on.  When he opened the zipper he saw a neatly folded paper towel.  Even though it was early in the morning, before I left I managed to scribble a little note onto a paper towel.  I had intended to write a note on a card, or at least a piece of paper, but in between Listerine swishes and buttering bagels, a paper towel was the best I could do.

"Hey friiiiiend!  Thank you for coming.  Seriously.  What an awesome, surprising, fun, memorable Christmas.  Spontaneous is best, right?  You are an amazing guy (who has an amazing taste in jackets ;-) Thank you for that, again.  I'm wearing it now + still love it.  I hope I wasn't too annoying, Craig haha  Talk to you... soon? Def.  Kristen! ps. Click!"


He stopped in his tracks and he labored to read every word.  When Caleb does something, he does it only and fully. His focus is incredible, his multi-tasking suffers for it.  There he was, mid-security line, shoe-less, with an open bag, standing perfectly still reading a paper towel as workers and passengers flitted around him.  He nearly cried again.  He thought the note was so sweet.  How did she stick this in here?  I never saw her near my bag!  That sneaky little girl.  "Excuse me, sir."  A morning flyer brought Caleb to reality and he realized the line was backing up on him and there was no one ahead of him anyone.  With a few tucks, slides, beeps and "Go ahead's" Caleb was on his way back to Oklahoma.


From December 27 until the end of January we had fun being long-distance "just friends."  The past two weeks had been quite a roller-coaster and we needed a chance for our feelings to settle, our brains to snap into normal, and our hearts to have the freedom to try.  Our talks were rarely shorter than an hour and a half and consistently longer than three hours.  Caleb usually had to wake up for a full 10-hour construction work day at 5:00 or 6:00 am, so talks that lingered until 2:00 am were very exhilarating at first, but eventually kind of exhausting for him.  Nonetheless we texted or talked every single day.  Caleb had never had a girl dig and chip away and search him out the way that I did, and I had never had a guy be so honest, precious and just... happy!.... the way Caleb was.  With all the hours of lovely conversation building, I was still very hesitant on my end.  It was the "this all looks perfect on paper, but does he really fit with me?  Does this feel the way it's supposed to feel?" "thing."  Because, you see, our conversations were often and regularly about deep discussion topics and long "oh! I have a good story!" but there was absolutely that addicting flirty banter back and forth.  He had a slew of nicknames for me... Little Girl, City Girl, Little, Girly Girl, City Slicker and Snipe.  My nicknames for him were as obvious as Cowboy or SlimJim, to Claude and Craig, to Wheat Thins and Granola.  I'm such a sweatheart ;)  But I knew he liked me, a lot, even though he didn't come out and say it.

texting allll the time...

He told me he thought I was very pretty.  He never missed a phone call.  He always affirmed how much he enjoyed our conversations and, well, me.  He thanked me for taking his call every time we spoke.  He made me laugh with his innocent formality.  He told me that I made him want to be a better man.  That he'd never met a single girl like me.  That he can't believe I would even want to talk to him. I was more guarded in my compliments, but felt similarly.  Incredible man.  Never met one like him.  SHOCKED that he wants to talk with me.  I was sure I would be "too much" for him and scare him away.  I was determined through all these phone calls and texts to be myself and not who I thought he was looking for.  I was determined to ask real and hard questions.  I was determined to joke with my sense of humor, and not tone it down because I thought he was more conservative than I was.  (I'll never forget the night I taught him what "That's what she said..." means, and how he whipped a TWSS joke minutes later.  It would be like your grandmother saying that... It was hilarious.  Too much fun.)


But I didn't have "the butterflies."  As we connected more and more, and as he slowly started opening up to me, and getting off his "script" the more nervous I found myself.  I don't want to hurt him.  He's so nice.  He's been so patient.  And protected.  Should we even keep talking?  You know the drill ;)  I "liked" him (what wasn't to like?!) but I wasn't sure if I liked-him-liked-him.  His personality was so simple, so slow, so thoughtful and quiet.  That is never what I pictured for myself.  I pictured someone like my dad: loud, hilarious, outgoing, opinionated, in command, never without words to say!  And here I found myself night after night in steady, patient dialogue with a shy, unsure, gentle man.  What the what?


One night at Costco over our $1.25 meals, I unveiled my deep and totally not over-exxagerated hypothesis of Caleb and I to Dre and Becca.  "Well, it's like this:  there are four main things you must have:  Character/Morals, Physical Attraction/Chemistry, Same Life Goals and Personality Connection.  [By the way, I don't know where I got that from or why I decided now was the time to assess such matters, but I was pretty adamant that I knew my stuff.] Caleb is totally hot, he's practically perfect when it comes to character and walk with the Lord, and we have the EXACT same life goals and view for our future.  But our personalities?  I don't know if we fit."  Apparently I'd never heard the phrase "Opposites attract."


I called a good friend, Kelley, and she gave me some good advice:  Let your head do the talking, and see if your heart follows.  If he's a good man, a good friend, and you find him decently attractive, don't bail too soon.  The best relationships start with solid friendships and often romance follows.  Be patient.  This is normal.  It's okay.  It was very helpful, but I was still on edge.


An old ER re-run summed it up perfectly for me: "I spend 23 hours a day wondering whether we’re wrong for each other, wondering whether we've got the energy that we need to get through everything that we seem to get into, whether the baggage we both bring would sink a small ship. But in the 24th hour, I realize I’ve been thinking about [him] for 23 hours and I come back to there's something about [him], I can’t stay away from. Something about [him], that makes me want to love [him]."


As confused as I was about my feelings, I distinctly remember how strange it was to end our phone calls with just "Good night" and not "Good night, I love you."  I bit my tongue and often almost said "I love you!" many times.  I had to stop myself.  I didn't feel in love - like I said before, I wanted to know where those stupid butterflies were!  They were still caterpillars, but don't worry nervous Kristen, they were there.  Not in the form you imagined, or the way you were looking for them. It's only a change of time.  Time, Love. Time, Love. If Caleb ever had a night where he couldn't talk on the phone, I felt desperately alone, even a room full of my best friends.  If he didn't text me after work like usual, I would unnecessarily have an emotional shutdown because he had probably met another girl that day.  It was all quite weird.  I never forgot about him.  He was constantly on my mind. Yet I constantly worried and "what-if'd."  Women.


In the middle of January Caleb announced that he had a surprise for me. Ooooo! I like surprises!  What is this, my good sir! He was coming to Maryland in a couple weekends.  He was coooming to seeEee me.  In the ciiiIiity. Because he miiiIiissed me.  And wants to seeeEe me.  (Said in the Sandra Bullock "Miss Congeniality" voice.)  


I started making plans.  Okay!  On Friday we'll have dinner with my dad and Courtney, then on Saturday we'll do DC with the Klesses, but during the day we'll see Lydia and my small group friends, Sunday we'll go to Chipotle with Kyle and Ashley, then have Thai with Julie and David.  Maybe Lydia and Courtney can come to that, too?  He'll stay at the Remsnyder's so we'll see them for lunch on... hm.  Maybe Saturday?  No.  Breakfast on Saturday!  We have to ride the Metro.  And he has to go to Adam's Morgan and discover what real pizza tastes like.  And the monuments!  He's never been to such a big city! Let alone the nation's Capital! 


I couldn't help myself.  I counted down the days until his arrival, I discovered that he had another surprise up his sleeve (which was to come into town early enough to watch me coach my beloved basketball team), I meal and menu-planned.  I grocery shopped and prepared food (making sure his favorites snacks were on hand). I made GRAPHS and LISTS.  I even spent an entire afternoon picking my outfits, washing the Grand Prix Winners, and then hanging them on coordinating hangers (complete with underwear, shoes and socks!) and lining them across doorways in my bedroom.  No, I didn't likelike this guy at all. 


January 21 couldn't come fast enough for this not-planner, totally-crushing, in-denial girl.  But it came.  In classic Kristen and Caleb glory.  Caleb's plan was to get into Baltimore around noon.  I was going to pick him up and drive him back to my apartment (my dad was also in town and staying at my apartment with me) where we would feast on Spicy Bacon Pasta in White Sauce with green beans, and cream puffs for dessert!  After lunch we would head over to school at 3:00 pm for warm-ups and the game.  At 6:00 am Caleb sat on his plane in Oklahoma, ready for the weekend of a lifetime.  And he sat.  And sat.  And... sat.  Thanks to mechanical problems, his plan to Detroit was two hours late.  Which, of course, meant that he would probably miss his lay-over.  Which meant, of course, that he would not be getting into Maryland at 11:55 am.  And of course the next flight into Baltimore landed at 6:45 pm.  We texted rapidly.  I sat on the computer looking for American Airlines flights from Detroit to Washington DC, not Baltimore.  If Caleb's flight could leave by 8:15 am, he could *maybe* get on the DC flight and land there at 3:45 pm.  My game started at 4:00 and DC traffic is what nightmares are made of, but I thought it could work.  I rallied the troops together.  Lydia was going to be my hero and pick Caleb up wherever he flew in, at whatever time he got there.  We all waited and prayed while Caleb was in Detroit: prayed for no weather storms, prayed for an available seat, prayed for HIM TO FREAKING GET HERE AND EAT THE BUCKETS OF FOOD AWAITING HIM.  


When Caleb landed in Detroit he sprinted to a Ticket Counter Helper Lady and tried to explain his situation.  He later told me that she was trying not to laugh at him the whole time. He was gasping for breath, stuttering his words, slightly moist and very country flustered.  She got his flight changed.  He had plenty of time to board.  Nonetheless, he scurried into a sea of rolling suitcases and gossip magazines and she called after him "You don't have to run!  You're going to make it!"  He ran.  One thing on his mind at a time, remember? And only his third airport experience in his life.  Poor sweet boy.  What a beautiful mess.


Happily, he landed in enough time to get to the second-half of my game.  He and Lydia chatted about trees and travel on their way to the gym.  I, thank God, was coaching the closest game of my life, so I was very focused and undistracted.  But after a time out I looked up out of the stands and saw his head in a back-row of seats.  A moth flew from my belly button to my right ear.  Mmmmm. Boy was he cute.  

after a basketball victory for me and a travel victory for he, we celebrated with a fancy dinner and matching clothes ;)

After the game (which we won on a last-second three pointer, talk about impressive!) Dad, Lydia, my assistant coach and long-time bestie Courtney, and Caleb came up to talk.  This was the first time we were introduced to The Caleb Stare.  Caleb would just stare at me, even if I wasn't talking.  Walking to the car: staring.  While I drove home: staring.  After I got changed for dinner: staring.  On the metro: staring.  At Ruth's Chris Steakhouse with Dad and Courtney: staring.  His eyes were as large as a prize-winning cow, and his lips were as closed as a Chick-fil-a on Sunday.   I think he was kind of in shock that he was really there.  That this girl he had actually developed a friendship with was now in person again.  And he was in her world.  And underneath all the respectful, kind, agreeable, perfectly-ironed button-ups, there was a guy in great distress.  All his wrong worldviews of "having to know that a girl is 'the one' before 'courting' her" were messing with him.  He was having a hard time enjoying himself.  He'd pray, nearly constantly, God, is she the one?  I think she is... That means I can ask her out?  Man, I don't know.  I haven't heard you say that's she's the one.  He was feeling guilty for what was completely innocent.  He was very heavy with what should be very carefree and light!  

becca pulled some sneaky iPhone  moves during our DC dinner to capture "the caleb stare." i can't stand how funny these pictures are to me. SO good.

It wasn't just a matter of "dating preferences."  This was the beginning of an overhaul of his entire spiritual life and way of thinking.  If his view on finding your spouse was wrong, maybe everything had been wrong? No.  Certainly not.  But what was right and what was wrong?  How do you know you are supposed to do?  As he stared at me, in the middle of a meal with friends, these were the thoughts going on in his mind.  I thought he just thought I was the most stunning girl he'd EVER seen and he couldn't take his eyes of me... so I didn't mind too much ;)  

we had to make our oklahoman guest feel welcome in the big city! world war two memorial for the win :)

Our packed schedule kept us on our toes, especially since we attended church and two funerals while he was in town.  The Sunday he was here was also the five-year-anniversary of his brother Joel passing away.  Anyone who has done long-distance dating knows how happy and hard those "whirlwind weekends" can be.  So much pent-up excitement and longing and expectation comes to reality and it's much more exhausting, confusing and yet irresistible than you're expecting.  It's a wonderful madness.  But we probably did try to do too much.  Every meal was "booked" with someone, we got my iPhone fixed at the mall, we shopped a little, we spent one freezing (no, really, my bones ached) cold night in DC with Dre and Becca, and we'd stay up talking and staring for far too long. 

a quick shot after church - still one of my favorite pictures of us.  i remember being so happy.

We also touched toes for the first time.  Yes.  After another near death experience in the cold, Caleb and I came back to my apartment.  I wanted to introduce him to this unheard of show I constantly quoted: The Office.  So we turned on Season One, Episode One.  We sat on the couch with our feet up on the coffee table.  My dad was in the other room shuffling around.  We each had our own separate blankets and we sat on opposite ends of the couch with the laptop in the middle of us.  Michael Scott annoyed his receptionist as Caleb adjusted his covers and nestled into the couch a little bit better.  And his big toe touched mine.  My insides turned into a tanning bed.  From my collar bone to my belt I felt orange hot and pulsing.  Pam talked about water colors.  I could feel my toes being washed away.  I held perfectly still, almost acting as if my big toe was made of glass and if I moved it it would crack into tiny pieces and for the rest of my life I'd never have the chance to let Caleb's toe bump into mine ever again.  All I could think about for the next 24 minutes plus commercials was getting his foot back near mine.  He mostly just stared at me.  
That night Caleb didn't leave until 3:30 am (even though we had to take him to the airport at 5:30 am). We talked, played tag, dressed-up, snacked, unfortunately didn't touch toes anymore, sang songs, talked, joked, laughed, talked and fought to stay awake for these last precious minutes together.  An hour and a half of sleep was all we needed.  We won't be "just friends" for long.  Maybe he'll fly back in a week or two? Ask me out?  I don't think he'll do it over the phone... but come on, this is obviously a good thing we've got here.  This is so much fun.  Time is flying!  We're so comfortable around each other!  Gosh darn it his toes are phenomenal!  And toes are gross!  We, with crunch in our eyes, salt on our tongues and stink on our morning-bodies, drove over an hour to the airport. We talked while the sun rose.  We talked while traffic brought us to a halt.  We talked while he stared. We talked all the way to the drop-off loop where I slipped another paper-towel note into his bag.  His flight departed in 30 minutes, so he did what he does at airports: run.  


And I drove away in a daze, dreaming about the next time I got to see that cowboy "friend" of mine.  He, on the other hand, was very, very concerned and worried.  Unbeknownst to me, the tides had begun to turn...


to be continued...

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 8

we cut through the lowlands

all hands through the salt lands

change of time - josh ritter

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

Yes.  Caleb was in the air, flying from Tennessee to Tampa, to spend Christmas with me.  I'll tell you what I didn't know then: how did that happen?!

It had been about ten days since I called and told him that we couldn't talk anymore.  He had found a mustard yellow scarf that I accidentally left behind on my trip and he carried it around with him.  He missed me.  He was flattened.  Deflated.  And decided.  He didn't fully understand why I couldn't (or wouldn't) talk with him anymore.   Caleb chose to continue talking with my dad - a couple phone calls and texts throughout the week.   My dad was excessively impressed with this boy, but he also understood my conflicted heart.  

As the days went on, and Caleb's favorite holiday in history, Christmas, approached, he felt less than holly jolly.  With plans to spend time with friends in Kentucky for Christmas, the Morris family packed up and headed out on December 23.  Caleb spend most of the 15-hour drive scrolling through Facebook looking at pictures of a girl he couldn't talk to, sleeping and texting a dad in Florida.

Caleb thought about how badly he wanted to be in Tampa, not in Kentucky.  He thought about how great it would be to see that "city girl" and meet her family.  The thing about Caleb is that when he sets his mind to something, he can't be derailed.  And all of a sudden these hopes and "I wish"s were turning into "This might work…"s and "I might try!"s.  After arriving to Kentucky in the wee hours of the morning, Caleb helped the family unpack and unload, and fell asleep after his restless night.  When he woke up a few hours later, he was jazzed.   All it took to push him off the edge was a half-joke half-dare from my dad over text: "We have an extra seat at the dinner table…" Caleb called him.   "Can I come? I want to come."  

My dad loves the chase, the story, the good guy and the suspense more than Nicholas Sparks.  He welcomed Caleb.  The Kentucky house turned into a scene from The Amazing Race.  Everyone was searching for flights on Christmas Eve.  The flights were astronomically expensive.  It flurried inside, instead of outside.  The Morris family and their friends searched any and all websites they could think of, on any and all devices that could get signal.  Someone finally came up with the idea of driving the 2.5 hours to Nashville, because the Nashville flights were radically less expensive.  Done.  They found a flight that had Caleb landing in Florida around 10:00 pm.  

A car full of family and friends escorted the Excited Desperado to his twilight flight where he'd be whisked away to surprise the girl on his mind and heart.  He'd never flown on a plane before.  He'd never traveled anywhere alone before.  He'd certainly never pursued a girl like this before! And he didn't really think much about what would happen when he arrived.  He just went.

His mom snapped a picture of lackluster Caleb at home with his little sister, yellow scarf in hand.

So there I was, standing next to a pot of beans, tomatoes and meat, with all eyes on me.  Caleb was in the sky with Santa Claus.  When I read the text I felt extremely, completely and overwhelmingly… nothing.  I went blank.  "I need to take a shower.  Wait, right now? He's coming right now? I need to take a shower.  But now? He… this is now?"  My poor mom wasn't sure what to think - mom's have always been more sensitive to emotions.  In slow motion I walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water.  I had the wherewithal to text my best friends back home. "So, Caleb is coming for Christmas?"  My phone exploded.  I didn't have the brain or the words to answer their questions.  

While I showered, fears started to wiggle back in.  I started to "feel" and I felt afraid.  "I don't want to hurt anybody.  I'm not sure quite how I feel about him.  I'm nervous.  He's coming to meet my family and I've only talked to him three times on the phone!"  God truly interrupted my thought process in one of those unforgettable moments.  "Just pray."  I prayed and prayed and prayed.  Like the water running down my head, peace ran down my heart.  I left the bathroom with a calmed and even delighted heart.  A complete transformation from when I entered.  "This just might be a little bit fun!"  Peace and courage, peace and courage, peace and courage.  They cycled over again and again.

My dad and I talked as we drove to the airport.  The drive was only about 20 minutes.  I don't remember what exactly we talked about, but I know we joked and that I felt carefree.  Years ago my dad made me a promise: "Kristen, I will never ruin anything that is good for you."  My dad reminded me that this guy was a good guy, and that I needed to have fun and not over think the situation.  We pulled up to the "Arrivals" lane and my dad let me out so I could greet Caleb alone.  As part of my Christmas surprise, Caleb had my yellow scarf sent back to me, so I decided to wear it to the airport.  I sat at the bottom of the staircase, watching the TV screens.  I went to the bathroom to re-fluff my hairs.  I went back to the screens.  I un-tucked my shirt. I un-zipped my jacket.  I re-tucked my shirt.  Re-zipped my jacket.  I tried to tie my scarf a couple of different ways.  I put chapstick on.  Cherry! Mmm.  I went back to the stairs and screens.  Oh my feet.  His plane has landed.  Oh my.  Cue butterflies.  I truly remember for the first time in my life wishing I had a paper bag to breathe into.  It was a hands on the seat, arms straight, deep breaths, close your eyes, hold very very still few minutes.  

Passengers filled the staircase.  I watched behind a pillar for a skinny blonde.  The first wave of folks died down.  Another wave erupted and I waited some more.  No sign of the Caleb Dude.  After a third go-round I spotted him, but he didn't see me.  My did he look precious.  He had a small, in my opinion feminine, tote bag.  He seemed a little frantic.  He was just as long and lanky as I remembered.  I snuck to the bottom of the escalator he was riding down and just stood there.  He looked at me a couple of times but completely didn't "see" me.  When he made it to the end we finally made eye contact and he almost fell over he was so shocked!  I guess my dad thought it would be a fun surprise to not tell Caleb I was coming to the airport!

And there we were.  In person.  In Florida.  For Christmas.  With a yellow scarf.  Many emotions. And no clue.  

Our "hello!" was as strange as you might imagine, but also deeply sincere and memorable.  You'll remember that we hadn't said a single word to each other since "I can't talk to you anymore" and now we were standing beside each other on Christmas Eve.   The obvious and only first questions were asked "How was your flight?" "Not too bad!  Not bad at all. How is your family?" "They're great! Yeah, great.  Yours?" "Oh, good.  Just… recovering from the long drive." "For sure." "Yeah."

We also quickly side-hugged.  Side-patted?  It was something I would tweet about if I saw it happen.  Just…awfully silly and stiff.  We made our way, with pleather lady bag in tow, to my dad's car.  Caleb was wide-eyed.  He seemed exhausted.  As excited and eager as he was to come, I think it was starting to hit him "Now what?"  

We chit-chatted and got updates as we drove back home.  Caleb very formally and professionally introduced himself to my family.  He looked everyone straight in the eye and used his full-name.  "Hello, I'm Caleb Morris.  It's nice to meet you." *shake shake.*  He sat on the couch like he was sitting on a cactus - upright and light.  It was late and the children had important sugar plum dreams to worry about, so they all jumbled to their beds.  

Little did I know that he'd be in my house just a few days later!

Caleb watched and helped me wrap my last presents.  He was appalled at my scattered wrapping technique.  "I'm a perfectionist.  I would never wrap anything like that."  I laughed.  "Well, I just might drive you off a cliff.  I'm far from a perfectionist.  I'm… a free spirit! Like a modern day Pocahontas."  He didn't exactly laugh.  

I can't remember what else we talked about that night, but we soon went to sleep.  The next morning was a happy buzz of sausage smells, children, colors and enthusiasm.  Bless his heart, Caleb sat on the couch next to me and didn't say much.  He watched, stared and responded politely when spoken to.  In the meantime, my brothers and sisters were jumping on each other.  My dad was making jokes about sports and Seinfeld.  Grandma told him he was fat.  Someone was talking about "passing gas."  We ganged up on Kevin.  Shannon screamed.  Dad yelled "NUEMAN!" Mom apologized to Caleb.  Dude ran off to play his new video games.  I was wearing shorts.  Timmy laughed about how skinny Caleb was.  "I walked into the room and didn't even see him on the couch!" We joined in.  Then we made fun of Timmy for stealing Dad's clothes.  Katie took pictures of everything.  Lauren stepped on someone's foot.  Someone spilled water.  Someone else's stocking was missing.  Aunt Pam and Mom gave Caleb a stocking they had filled for him so he would have something to open on Christmas.  Caleb gave me a brand new, bright white, beautiful North Face jacket.  I patted him.  Dad started cleaning up all the wrapping paper.  Mom called from the kitchen to make sure he didn't throw away an instruction manuals.  Dad called the kids to get all their stuff or else it might get thrown away.  Grandma disappeared with her gifts before the kids could break them.  

Our first "real" picture together. Yikes.

My eyes were eNORmous. WHAT did he just say?!?! Not that I'm a prude or easily offended, but I'm he had NEVER said ANYthing like that before, and this was certainly not an appropriate time to be asking such a question.  Besides, I didn't even know what he meant?! "I'm sorry… What did you say?"  Caleb repeated "Do y'all use safe sex?"  I looked over at my mom.  Was I hearing this right? Is he about to go into this right here, right now, in the middle of family Christmas, with children all around? My mom was BRIGHT red, rolling in her wooden chair, with her hand over her mouth.  "I know what you think he said! AAAh! HAhahah!"  Well, yes, I know what I think he said, too.  And I'm fantastically confused.  Caleb had no idea what I thought he said.  And I had no idea what he really said!  And mom was laughing too hard to be of any help to either of us!  "Sacks! Do we save sacks! Ah! HAhahahaha!"  Caleb turned back to me "Yes, do y'alls save sacks?"

Then I let loose with my giggling.  Caleb still didn't know what was so funny. His ears were turning redder by the moment.  When we calmed down enough to explain it to him, he become sickly white.  I thought he was going to faint.  Poor little Christian boy.  Just trying to help.  He couldn't stop repeating over and over and over that that is not what he said.  "Sacks! Like bags!  I said 'sacks!' I promise! Sacks!"  I know, Caleb, I know.  Don't worry.  It's perfectly fine.  Just not what we were expecting.  

I loved how innocent he was.  I wondered if he knew how rare that quality was in a 20-something man.  The rest of the trip was lovely.  We took the little kids to the playground one afternoon.  It was the first moment on the entire trip where I felt like I saw the real Caleb.  We split up into teams and played tag.  A few kids wandered up and watched us play.  You know how little children are when they are shy?  We asked them if they wanted to play and they said no, but clearly they were dying to join in the fun.  Caleb finally stopped and told them "You can be on my team."  He ran them through the rules.  "Base is on the slide, you can't touch the mulch, jail is on the picnic bench." He was bent over with his hands on his knees and the little boys still had to look up to meet his eyes.  They nodded their little buzzed heads and scampered off.  Caleb counted really, really loud to let everyone know that time-out was over.  And the playground was released to be crazy once again.  Kids ran, Caleb jumped and chased, I played but mostly watched Caleb.  It was a wonderful hour or so.  We also went to Busch Gardens together (last time I had gone my dad interrupted his lunch to talk to Caleb on the phone!).  The little kids loved competing over who would get to sit next to Caleb on the roller-coasters.  He so easily, patiently and happily payed attention to them.  He didn't make snide remarks about them behind their backs, he didn't try to shuttle ourselves away from them to get a break, he didn't ever snap or respond harshly to them.  Instead, he joined in their theme-park pleasure and bet one of my brothers "a big chicken basket" if he could ride a huge coaster with his hands up the whole time.  

I've always always always always loved this moment.  I'm so glad I took a picture of it.  But even if I hadn't, I would have never forgotten it.

For every abnormally impressive quality of Caleb's, I had a somewhat odd concern.  He really struggled to have long conversations in person.  He also sounded like a script.  I'd tease him and tell him that I knew there was more he was thinking than what he was saying.  If I'd ask him a question he would sit quietly and think for a long time (sometimes minutes) before he would answer.  He truly looked like a deer in headlights, or like a toddler caught red-handed, but he wasn't in danger! Or in trouble!  I kept wanting him to relax and "open up" (to use a term from The Bachelorette.)  Despite his trepidation and strangeness, we still spent our nights talking late into the night… just at a much, much slower pace than I was used to.  

What I didn't know was that he was hounded internally with questions.  Questions about me - the way I acted, what I listened to, what I joked about, the loud-crazy-ness of my family.  Questions about his own convictions, questions about facts versus feelings, questions about what he was supposed to, questions about God's will and how he was supposed to know it.  Questions about Taylor Swift.  Questions about social skills, sense of humor and personality.  Questions about different beliefs, opinions and what is "right."  My family was so different from his own, yet welcomed him like a brother.  I was so bold and forthright, and he felt so trapped and unsure (when it came to worldview and conviction.  Because he felt bold and forthright about his interest in me, while I felt quite unsure.)  

I remember sitting in our living room on the last night of his trip watching him work through a thought he was trying to explain to me and I thought "There are things about this man that no human has ever known.  He doesn't even know.  He isn't hiding anything. He's figuring out everything. And nothing would go against his safe, nervous, calculated decision making process than abruptly jumping on a plane to chase after a girl that he isn't *sure* he's supposed to marry.  This is huge for him.  And he's trying. He's trying so hard.  I want to know what is going on in there. I want to know what he's feeling and thinking.  I wish I could understand. I want to know him."

This picture describes our relationship at the time very well: cute, stiff and a little blurry ;)

We were drawn to each other, despite what would seem like weird "chemistry" or "connection."  It wasn't effortless and lingering and flawless witty banter followed by deep, heart-pouring.  We had to be very patient with each other.  We both really weren't sure what was going on.  But we both had that "something," "whatever it is" (Zac Brown Band anyone?) that kept us fascinated.  And we also were fiercely committed to family being central, critical and blissful in our current and future lives.  We loved to talk to each other about our families, our dreams for our future families, our best memories with our families, our lessons we've learned from families, and so on.  It was our strongest point of compatibility ;)

That final night we talked until I fell asleep.  He snapped a picture, tucked me in and went to his bed for a couple hours.  We woke up at about 4:30 am to make my 6:50 am flight.   He smelled like cream cheese and hair gel.  I  looked like cream cheese and hair gel (white and pasty?).  We both smashed our possessions into luggage.  While it was still dark we silently and sleepily rode to the airport.  I said good-bye to my parents.  He shook hands.  

As we checked in for our different flights (me back to Maryland, he back to Oklahoma) I bragged to him about my many, many travels.  "Oh yeah, I was first on an airplane when I was six months old.  I've been flying ever since. I fly allllll the time.  I know all about airports.  Here, let me help you."  He tried to make fun of me and my pride, but I bulldozed right over him.  "You'll pick it up pretty quick as you start to travel more.  It's super easy."  He just smiled quietly and nodded his head.  He hadn't learned to fight back with me yet ;)  

We took our boarding passes and idly walked to security.  Once there I knew just what to do.  Shoes off, laptop out, jacket off, in the boxes, carry on up! Boom!  Caleb fiddled and looked around and asked questions and had too many grey boxes.  "What do I need to take out? Do I have to take my belt off?"  I zipped around like an arrogant bumble bee showing him how it was done.  

As his bag went through the conveyer belt I noticed the officer call for a bag check.  Oh dear.  They took Caleb over into the corner and waved a wand up and down him, then patted him down.  His dear eyes looked worried, and he was genuinely confused, but so genuinely wanted to be helpful and honest.  Oh dear dear man.  The officer pulled out a pocket-knife (one of Caleb's stocking stuffers.)  Caleb sadly had to have it thrown away ("But Mikey gave it to me!  I love it!").  Once we were free to go, and re-assembled we charged to my gate.  I was the first flight of the day and there was no plane at Gate C21 yet.  We settled into two side-by-side chairs and reflected on the weekend.  We measured our hands to each others (obviously without touching them even slightly!!!) I asked him if he had more pocket knives in his sack.  He glared at me and said he'd dump a bucket of chicken on my head.  I occasionally would check back to see if my plane had pulled up yet (it hadn't) so we continued on, lost in conversation (for the first time on the whole trip.)  I was starting to dread this whole good-bye thing.  We were getting into a groove!  This was wonderful!  He's wonderful! I like what's happening! How are we going to leave each other?  He doesn't hug me… or touch me… or anything.  He doesn't even say 'I like you.'  This will be special.

"Hey, did you just hear your name?"  I stopped talking.  "That sounded like 'Kristen Snyder.'" I listened but didn't hear anything at all.  "No? I don't think so?"  We decided Caleb had been hearing things.  I decided to use the restroom.  I walked down the terminal while Caleb waited with my things.  I felt airy and lovely and light.  Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror.  Wow.  I looked like spinach with mold on it.  Ragged and bumpy?  I easily found an empty stall, entered it and locked the latch.  

Waiting for that plane to come up on the left ;) Just a waiting and a waiting.... ;)

"Well, young lady, you got here with seconds to spare."  A droplet of sweat slid behind my ear as I handed her my boarding pass.  I looked back and saw Caleb still running.  She scanned the paper and opened the door for me to enter the plane. "Hurry, hurry… everyone is waiting on you, Miss Snyder!" I walked into the walkway and looked back one last time.  Caleb had finally caught up.  I waved good-bye.  He stood there and stared.  "Hurry, Miss Snyder!"  The door closed.  And our trip was officially over.  Without so much as a word.

(to be continued...)

Enjoy Engagements | Chet + Devon | Lakeside

hold on, to me as we go
because i'm going to make this place
your home
philip phillips

It's not an exaggeration to say that I was a bizarre mid-school-er.  At the risk of worrying you, I awkwardly admit that I had an imaginary world I played in (yes. In middle school. I know. I knooow. Yes! I know!).  I played sports year-round, but when a friend would come over I'd either force them to do a dance with my for my neighborhood or trap them in my bedroom with all my wedding books (probably while listening to Adventures in Odyssey).  

This was the, um, era?, Devon met me.  I was 11 years old and kooky.  She was 12 (almost 13!) and really, really cool.  She's was and is the kind of (unfair) cool where you don't try.  You just are.  Devon is just cool.  She isn't awkward, she isn't stuffy, she isn't blatant, she isn't showy.  She's just Devon.  We had the "I dye my hair blonde and wear eye-liner" cool in our class, and we had, well, kids like me.  But Devon stood out.  Even as a sixth grader she was sharp, witty, intelligent, sneaky, fun, happy and adorable.  And for some reason she liked me.

I'll never, ever forget one Friday during art class when she gave up a seat at the cool blonde table (which was next to the cool boys table!) to seat with me.  She wanted to play a game.  She made a list of five questions I had to answer about myself and then she would answer about herself.  As our art teacher, Connie, taught we quietly wrote our responses and traded with each other.  That was a fun game! Devon is so fun!

The following Monday I had a lunch bag waiting for me in my locker.  Question #4: What is your favorite lunch to have at school?  My answer?  Chicken Cup-O-Noodles, big pretzels, mandarin oranges, fruit-by-the-foot, Cooler Ranch Doritos and crackers with peanut butter.  I opened the lunch bag and every single item was there.  She concocted a whole plan to figure out my favorite lunch, took time to do it, and spent her Sunday afternoon at the grocery store buying me my favorite lunch so she could surprise me on Monday.  And every single thing I listed was in the bag.  I could have cried right there in class.  I think that was the kindest thing anyone outside of family had ever done for me.  

That's just who Devon is.  As highschool, life and work have taken us our different ways over the years, I've always thought of her like I did the moment I sorted through my surprise lunch in Miss Gallagher's homeroom in 2000.  

A number of years ago I saw a big-smiled dude popping up on Devon's Facebook.  Chet.  Very nice, Devon, very nice!  

I later heard the story of how they met.  Devon was a secretary for a year at a local hospital.  EMT's and other employees dropped by daily as part of their job.  One particular EMT, named Damien, was really cute.  When he'd stop by to fill out paperwork, Damien and Devon enjoyed playful flirting.  But all of Devon's co-workers were trying to set her up with another guy, Chet.

"Well, you can tell this 'Chet' that I'm not interested! And I don't even know who he is!"  Her co-workers pressed.  "But he definitely has a thing for you... give him a chance!"  Devon wasn't buying it. Especially since she had her eye on Damien.  Damien Chester Ripley, also known as "Chet."

Though his first name is Damien (and his work papers and uniform tag all use his official first name), he never corrected Devon and told her what he goes by.  Apparently Devon had a little spazz moment when all the pieces fell into place.  They quickly become friends - "talking" and getting to know each other, mostly at work.  By fall they were dating, and by winter they were inseparable.  

Being the Facebook lover that I am, I started noticing some difference in Devon.  She was running?! And fishing?! And she looked radiant... even in silly little camera phone pictures.  As much as you can read into a Facebook picture, I could tell she was really, really happy.

After finally meeting Chet last night, I can fully confirm her joy: they are crazy about each other.  Whipped? Smitten? On Cloud Nine?  They've been together almost four years and they shine.

In two hours I saw so much.  I saw that Chet is a man's man.  Dude to the core.  He teases Devon nearly constantly.  My favorite was when he'd call her a "dunce."  She would fake smack him and he'd shield himself with his shoulder and "run away."  He's affirming of her.  In just a small window of time,  he spoke easily and unprompted to me about Devon and to Devon about herself in a very kind manner. He's romantic.  He's playful.  He's well-spoken.  He's cool without trying.  He laughs at Devon and with Devon.  

Now that I'm in a relationship, I realize how "empty" words that go with an engagement shoot can be.  "He's so sweet to her!" "She lights up when she's with him!" "They're the cutest couple I've ever seen!"  Blah blah blah.  So that leaves me stuck when I really do want to communicate about a man who acts like his girl is his treasure, and does so in a happy-go-lucky way.  It is sweet.  He is sweet with her.  Dunce.  I'm also left in a debacle when I want to explain that Devon's cheeks and eyes didn't use to look like that.  She sparkles and flits - but that isn't to say that she's an airhead.  She's the same devoted friend, considerate giver and creative companion as she was a decade ago.  

I don't know.  It's just not coming out right.  They're real, guys.  They're successful, talkative, easy-going, real people.  And they love each other enormously.  

During the shoot I said a nearly-rude statement: "Devon, who would have thought that you'd be getting married before me?"  As soon as I said it I wanted to be carried away by ticks.  It didn't come out right. But I actually meant it in such a good way.  I was always the crazy-getting-married-at-17-having-20-kids-weird-homeschool-wedding-notebook-girl.  And Devon insisted she would never marry until she was at least 30.  At least. She was full of ideas and freedom.

And now her ideas, freedom and happiness are linked unswervingly to being with Damien Chester.

As much as she's "grown up" (and hallelujah, I think I have a little bit too!) she's still Devon.  Two other "cheesy/cliche' romance lines" that came to mind are: "He makes me the best version of myself" and "I can't imagine my life without him."

As much as I wish I could come up with something more unique or insightful, I cannot imagine Devon without Chet.  I almost feel like he's been a part of her for as long as I've known her.  And I can't picture what a happier Devon would look like.

They are very much a family, a love and a home.

“Are you learning me by heart, little Sara."

"No, I know you by heart."

Frances Hodgson Burnett - A Little Princess

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 5

time, love. time, love.

time, love.

it's only a change of time.

josh ritter - change of time   

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4---The dryer hadn't buzzed yet.  It was time to leave.  I hadn't checked in online.  I hadn't printed my boarding pass.  I hadn't finished blogging like I planned.  My clothes were still damp.  Oh well, into the carry-on they go!  I stuffed, zipped and hobble-hobble-hobbled out the door and down to my car.  There probably won't be any traffic, it's the middle of the day.  I have no idea what is in my suitcase.  Do I have my license? Oh gosh. I paused in the parking lot of my own apartment complex - where I lived on my own.  The concept was still very new to me.  I hadn't even paid my third full month of rent yet.  Life was very happy and my house still felt a little bit like a hotel or vacation home.  I invited friends (ranging in age from one year-olds to my mom's friends in their 50's!) over constantly.  My heart was so full when people enjoyed my house.  Mornings were fun, but after that being alone was stinky.  I craved seeing familiar faces by dinnertime.  

With my damp, unplanned luggage in tow, I zipped over to the airport in Baltimore.  I'd already gone to visit my parents in Florida a few weeks prior.  Now it was time to go see that funny couple I loved so much.  We had waved good-bye to them in August and it was already nearly November.  I was slightly proud of myself for being the only friend who actually made plans to visit them.  Though not much of a hugger, I wanted to give Becca a hug.  And hear some Andree humor.  And to see ALL there is to see in Oklahoma (apparently I didn't need more than 72 hours to visit everything important in the state.)  The two best friends were not Oklahoma boasters.  I had heard from them that the memorial downtown, the farmers market and a cool place called Pops on Route 66 were the only fun things in all of the area.  Oh! And Big Truck Taco.  Whoooa. Sounds like SO much fun. Woooo-eee. Rah. Rah. Can. Not. Wait.  Ha.

This would be a good trip, I decided, to focus on people.  Not everywhere has to be beautiful or inspiring.  Sometimes it's just about who you are with and nothing more.  You see, this trip was not only going to include seeing a much-missed couple but also doing a family shoot for a project I was working on.  A project about real marriage and proven love.  I'm perfectly addicted to shooting weddings, and waving good-bye to lovers on day one of their marriage.  But who photographs day 132 when they get into their first sort-of big fight? And who photographs the triumph in her eyes on day 216 when he says the meal she made tastes better than his mothers version? And who photographs day 1,824 when the couple still isn't pregnant, after wanting a baby so badly?  Or perhaps day 1,824 is filled with tears from mama and tots, who all need daddy to come home.  Now.  Who takes pictures of the husband in line at the grocery store with a little bouquet of flowers for his woman, over 2,000 days from their wedding? Who photographs day 4,991 when work is just at a dead-halt, and with bags under their eyes and fears inside their hearts, two people discuss options.  They weren't expecting to still have money issues "this far" in.  Who is there to photograph daddy mowing the lawn with his little dude following behind with a plastic toy, while mom and her quite grown-up daughter talk about what they want to do for her birthday this year?  Who is there for those long, beautiful, days that become long, beautiful years, where they "come together, fall apart, break each other's heart"?  "When the sound of little feet, is the music, they dance to week to week?"  I was (and still am) hungry to study marriages, not just wedding days.  I wanted to do photoshoots where I not only took pictures of people, but heard the whole story.  Where I asked lots of questions.  Where I took my time becoming emotional and inspired by their life and marriage.

With this desire in my heart (among other things!) I was moved to tears as I read a blog called "Joel's Journey."  A friend had showed it to me, and I spent one humid afternoon laying on a mattress in an empty house reading the story of a marriage.  Terry and Cindy Morris had a wedding day.  The had the smiling, waving, cheerful day one.  Someone was there to take pictures.  It was beautiful and good.  By day 7,331 they had become parents to 13 children on their Oklahoma farm, and one of them was getting ready to say good-bye to his family for a little while.  No one knew that little Joel wasn't going to be in their arms for 90 more days.  No one knew that the funny, root-tootin', round-headed three year old had a tumor.  But they found out.  I read from the beginning, with no ability to stop my body's response to the story, and though I knew Joel had died, I found myself cheering for him and his family.  I read about their initial doctors visits, their car rides back and forth, Joel leaving his home and farm for the last time (which, of course, they didn't know would be when it happened).  I read about his brain failure, but his little heart beating away.  I read about holidays and birthdays celebrated in his hospital room. Hours of reading and music and cuddles from mom, dad and his twelve best friends.  I read about the kind nurses and the cold nurses.  I read about the gut-wrenching search for a doctor who would continue to treat Joel (the hospital he was in refused to since his brain was dead, even though his heart was still beating and the family wanted him to be treated.)  I read about the Morris family being sued and having to go to court in the middle of caring for their son.  I read about the medical staff ignoring Joel's room, and Terry learning how to take care of him by researching online.  I read about the day that they decided to let Joel go back to the farm to let him be comfortable in his own house.  I read about little Hosanna's birthday party in his hospital room while they waited for an ambulance to take Joel home.  I read about the ambulance not making it in time.  I read about the entire Morris family surrounding Joel as he left our wearisome world and was healed forever.  


Cindy held him and wept. Terry was by her side. The children propped each other up, heartbroken.  Joel walked in a world they've never seen, but believe is more real than this earth.  He was greeted in paradise with cheers and open arms.  Joel will never hurt again, and will never die again.  He went home.  Home home.  It is very good that Joel lives in Heaven.  It is sharply sad that Joel is so missed by his family.  I read on their blog their hope in the promise of their God:  they WILL be reunited with Joel someday.  They WILL touch him and see his precious round face.  He is alive, and he is with God.  

I cried. Oh, I cried.  I could hardly make it through the next few years of blog posts.  The posts of fight and fear and questions and belief.  I was cut to the quick.  It's not often you come across such a real, vulnerable story.  I almost felt like I knew this family after I read their blog.  I wanted to know more about their story, and hear about the marriage that made it through the storm.  The marriage that is still walking through the storm.  I contacted Cindy and a shoot was planned.  Yes.  This trip would be about people.  This trip to Oklahoma would be about hugging Becca, laughing with Andree, meeting Cindy and Terry, and learning about their life and family.  Who cares if the state is boring?  It's not like I'm staying there or anything.  

With visions of miles and miles of flat nothing, lots of cows, big trucks and more nothing, I flew.  After landing, I realized my visions weren't flat enough.  And didn't imagine enough cows, trucks and nothing.  But I didn't care, my evening was happily spent with friends, eating soup and, yes, hugging.  Friday night came to a close and I slept on the couch (like usual) in my travel clothes, with all my make-up on.  

The next morning I did not pop right off the couch.  I groaned.  Where is my phone? And are my teeth made out of cottontails? Blech.  My eyes felt like the saltine crackers I had crunched into the soup.  The rim of my hair was sweaty.  I could feel it.  Where is my phone? I thwacked and patted the couch.  I stood up and it slid down the blanket as I shook it out.  AH-ha!  I checked the time, hoping I had at least an hour to take a shower and freshen up before the shoot.  Besides, I still had airplane peanut salt in my nails. No such luck.  I had about 15 minutes to get myself out the door.  Maybe even less.  Darn it darn it darn it.  

This photoshoot needed to start on time.  Mrs. Morris made it abundantly clear to me that her oldest boys needed to get to work as soon as possible.  Our 9 am start time was already cramping their groove.  I had seen on her blog that her oldest boys (twins!) had bought 25 acres of land (with cash!) and that they spent their Saturdays and evenings building their houses.  On a normal Saturday they would be at Home Depot by 6:00 am getting supplies.  Getting to the job site at 10:00 am was down right disgraceful!  "As soon as you finish taking their pictures, they'll need to go!  I think they're a little frustrated with me, makin' em take family pictures! But you know what, they just need to deal with it!"  I laughed in agreement.  Yes, suck it up, put on a smile and deal with it.  

I was a flurry that morning.  I pulled out my favorite black skirt.  It was still damp.  At least it smelled like Lavender Fields.  But you know how damp clothes fit.  They hang "heavy" and don't quite flatter.  I had a soft red cardigan to wear with my favorite black skirt.  It too was a little damp.  The cuff of the sleeve was loose and wide.  And for some reason the cardigan was more rounded then straight.  Just bad.  I shook and snapped it, hoping to give my favorite sweater a little life in it's veins.  Nothing.  I had a tight little black tank-top to wear underneath my cardigan.  Except that I didn't.  I thought I had a slim-fitted black camisole, but I guess in my packing rush I grabbed the wrong top out of the dryer.  Instead I had a flowy, loose, butterfly-sleeved, long, semi-pleated black Gap shirt.  Darn it.  I tucked the too-big top into my skirt and tried to arrange it neatly so that it might look like a smooth tank.  Instead I looked like a breast-feeding mother smuggling hamburgers .  It bunched in the back and gave me love handles.  It bunched in the front and gave me a trapezoid shaped mid-section.  Whatever.    


At this point I still hadn't addressed my face. Oh lordy.  A few days before this trip I decided to give myself bangs.  Bangs that started at my ears.  They were bad bangs.  They weren't cute like Zooey or Carrie or Liv.  Besides the fact that they were too wide (I've since learned that bangs are supposed to start at the end of your eyebrows, not the end of your forehead), they were also too thin.  And thanks to my complete lack of self control and ability to get myself ready for bed, set an alarm, and wake up on time, I found my self arranging a greasy wheat shoot field along my scalp.  When in Rome…? The rest of my hair was no better.  Flat, half-wavy, half-straight and quite split-end-y.  I wedged two bobby-pins in the back of my head, creating one of the most unfortunate half-up half-down hair styles I've ever seen.  On to my skin.  I swirled and swirled my powder foundation, leaving puffs of the make-up all over the bathroom counter.  Make-up never goes on well without moisturizer.  The powder just perched on my face like birds on a telephone line.  Darn it.  I forgot deodorant.  And eye-liner.  And toothpaste.  With a quick mascara application, apple breakfast and squirt of Becca's perfume, I danced out the door in my boots (but not in my socks.  Because I forgot socks too.)

The drive was quiet and calm.  Maybe the country is a little pretty in the morning.  My feet itched in my shoes.  Oh my gosh, my nails.  I was going to take this chipping polish off.  Oh well.  Before long, I found myself bumping along a gravel road, which dead-ended at a long dirt road, which led to a gravel driveway and the Morris property.  

The big red barn in the background proved that this was a farm.  Not that the little cowboy boots all over the yard, bleeting goat sounds, red-dirt soaked pick-up trucks in the driveway, playful dogs, crunchy and rolling fields, the parked dirtbike, horseshoe decor in the garden and stillness in the air wasn't enough.  Rap rap rap on the door was followed by running foot-steps, "MOoOOOOm!", muffled shutting doors, a little face in the window (that disappeared after a fast smile), and eventually the door opened by a lovely woman, dressed in black, purple and denim. "HI! Welcome! Welcome!"  There is no awkward confusion over whether you shake hands or hug here.  Cindy grinned and collected toys off the ground while walking into the cozy, country-themed living room.  Terry appeared with open arms, too.  He has story-eyes.  Good man story eyes.  And both Terry and Cindy looked much younger than I was expecting.  "We're running a little behind, I'm so sorry!  Oh, and Bethany is sick.  She was almost too sick to even get out of bed this morning.  But! She's a trooper!  She's getting ready! I'm going to help everyone get themselves fixed.  Make yourself at home!"  


I stood in front of the giant wooden table, with enough benches and chairs to seat 20 people.  To my right was a kitchen in the middle of renovation, to my left was a small TV room and an open door.  An arm stretched out past the open door and I saw the back of a tall boy putting on a black button-up shirt.  I turned away and sat down on a wooden wagon-wheel love seat.  Kids and animals slowly made their way into the living room.  The older kids introduced themselves and shook my hand.  The younger kids came in packs and would avoid eye contact as they popped out from behind walls and furniture.  I couldn't keep all the names straight.  Including Joel, the Morris' have nine sons.  There were boots-wearing, jean-clad, trimmed-hair, tan, cute boys everywhere.  All dressed in black or purple.  Some changing outfits in between viewings.  I didn't even try to remember their names!

It seemed that everybody was just about ready.  There were probably ten people in the living-room-kitchen-great-room when Daniel came down the hall and said hello.  Following right behind was Caleb.  Apparently these two put up a good ol’ fashioned stink about having to miss precious weekend time to build.  For family pictures nonetheless! They're too respectful to argue, but I’m sure there was stomping around in the bedroom, watching the clock constantly.  Muttering disappointments to each other.  Though the 23-year-old twins were tall and toned with fantastic jawlines, I was hardly impressed.  They were much too thin for my taste, and they both had matching stiff-gel-shlacked  hair-do's.  Their faces looked like chiseled statues that didn't move.  I'm not kidding.  Their facial expression was just that: an expression.  One. Singular.  They stood perfectly straight, with crisp owl-like head movements, and serious, focused looks.  I wanted to shake them and say "CHillllLLLl oooouut!"  The reader must keep in mind that I felt about as attractive as a bag of frozen bagel bites.  I was kind of crushing on a guy back home, but was mostly burnt-out with guys and trying to meet them.  


Besides, from what I could tell from the little bit I saw on their mothers blog and Facebook, it seemed that both the twins had their sights set on other girls.  Not to mention that I knew they were a part of a famously conservative homeschool program (the same one that the Duggar's of 19 Kids and Counting are in), so I knew that I would NOT be the kind of girl ANYone in this household would take seriously.  That last sentence was very judgmental of me, but also came from fairly reliable information about families in this organization.  Many have told tales of being snapped at for wearing pants and "dressing like a harlot."  Let's not even talk about crazy music choices, like Taylor Swift and Beyonce'!  All that to say, I had no mixed motives when I entered that household.  No part of me even remotely thought "I wonder if I'll meet a cute dude here! Giddyup!"  


Caleb walked over and shook my hand.  I hardly remember it. I hardly cared. I promptly began counting children and asked to get this shoot going.  


Caleb, on the other hand, felt sparks. 

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 3

i had a dream last night

and rusting far below me

battered hulls and broken hard ships

leviathan and lonely

josh ritter - change of time

start by reading part 1 + part 2!

First we need to mosey on back to 1987, when a little boy was introduced to earth.  This child grew wild and free where the wind sweeps down the plains.  Except scratch the "wild" part.  He was a bit of a safe man.  Very proper, respectful, disciplined, intentional, and formal.  Though he loved adventuring outside, hog-hunting, fort-building, machine-driving, height-climbing, animal-shooting, rock-moving, he certainly was not wild.  He was young and male, but he was… tame.  This tall, quite slim, calloused, muscular, bronzed, high-cheek-boned, cut-jaw-lined, blue-eyed boy played by the rules.  

His mother and father raised he and his 12 brothers and sisters on over 20 acres of land.  His father and mother poured their hearts and souls into their family.  His father and mother are hard workers - hard and loving workers.  His father and mother are generous, kind, strong and faithful.  

This young man, Caleb, was raised to respect and desire a wife and to nurture and raise his own children.  He was brought up eager to be a husband.  From a young age he prayed for his future family and worked hard to be in a position to provide for them (as he also learned by word and action that a man is to be the provider for his home.)  This diligent and ambitious family took an incredible risk and started their own construction business when Caleb graduated high school.  Father and his three sons took on the daunting task of running their own company - something none of them had ever done.  

In the early years of the family-run company, Caleb and his twin brother also set out to buy their own land and start building homes for their families - completely debt-free.  After years of saving, and in the middle of running their first company, the boys bought 50 acres between the two of them on neighboring plots of land.  Their determined, focused spirits put the pedal to the metal.  They'd rise before the sun to head to work, and after work they'd drive over to their land and clear trees, prep their foundation, pour concrete, assemble walls and build those houses (which is utterly impressive for 22 year old guys, if you ask me.)  

Their devotion to their task also made itself known in the music world.  Caleb and Daniel both play the piano, violin and viola.  Let me rephrase that: they both received university scholarships for their musical skill.  Ha! Can you imagine?  I actually can not imagine being so good at something! These scholarships were turned down so they could start their family business and build their homes (which, again, is utterly impressive for 20 year old guys, if you ask me!)

Handsome: check! Honorable: check! Hard-working: check! Smart, talented, adventurous, romantic and over six feet tall: check, check, check, check and cheeeeeck.  Single and available? Yes'sir.  Single and looking? Oh, you bet… for years Caleb was looking.  But in 23 years this sweet, gentle, quiet, hunky man had never had a girlfriend.  In fact, he'd never asked a girl out! Actually, he'd never even spoken to a girl on the phone, or been "alone" with a girl anywhere. 

This brings us to a very crucial and careful portion of the story.  Crucial, because the belief system I am about to share almost defined Caleb singularly (much like my past stories and hurts "made" me).  Careful, because I would never want to offend, judge or blame anybody in his life for "what he believed."  I'm simply telling the story of a boy, not preaching a Christian course on relationships.  Trust me.  

Caleb was homeschooled and brought up in an organization with very honorable, virtuous and impressive principles.  The organization, however, was created and the material written by a man who has a flawed view of "grace." If one were to take the time to read his personal papers (NOT his homeschool material or books, but his personal writings) one would find an interesting definition of grace.  He claims "grace is the desire and the power God gives us to do His will."  Strictly "dictionary definition" as well as biblical definition, that is just not what grace.  Grace is unconditional forgiveness, undeserved mercy, unmerited favor from a generous, extravagant, loving Father.  The definition of grace includes "He did" not "us do."  Grace is not about our performance, obedience or discipline.  A completely different discussion would be how God's grace gives us power to obey and desire for HIs will, but that is not grace itself.

 This conviction automatically (albeit subtly) works its way into the writings, meetings, principle's and teachings of this man's organization.  His grace worldview touches everything.  And to be honest, I think it's incredibly hard to not get swept up into the mindset, particularly when everyone you know and love believes the same thing.  That last sentence would be true for any belief system or organization!  If you are born into it, and know it, and everyone around you believes it, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree (though it certainly happens!)

While this particular organization has a great mission statement ("to support parents in raising their children to love the Lord Jesus Christ, reason wisely based on the principles of Scripture, have world-changing purpose in life, and give Biblical answers to the needs of our day") it seems to fall short in the day-in day-out application of unearned grace.  By nature, a wrong view of grace (and freedom and forgiveness and salvation) means many people work to achieve or earn or keep something by their own goodness that is not according to the Bible.

Many of these families adhere to certain "rules" for godliness, rules to obey "God's will," that are just not in the Bible. Rules like: women must wear skirts, parents must homeschool their children, families must not own or watch cable television, modern music and "drum beats" are sinful as they worship the devil, drinking alcohol is always sin for anybody, and a rigid, confusing courtship system.  

The dictionary definition of "courtship" is simply: A period during which a couple develop a romantic relationship, especially with a view to marriage.  But the courtship-program adhered to by many, I believe, well-meaning families is much more deranged.  Parents strongly limit male-female interaction (unless at large group events or family get-togethers or church/school events.)  A young boy needs to essentially see and maybe speak with (a handful of times) a girl and "seek the Lord" to find out if she is "the one" for him.  If he receives the mystical go-ahead from God, he can then call the girls father and ask permission to court his daughter.  From what I hear, fathers have a variety of responses: some decline a man right there, others tell the nervous lad to wait while the father prays about it and that he'll get back to him (in no definite time frame) and still others request to meet in person for a dad-boy date.  The dad-boy dates are supposed to be a time for the father and hopeful knight to get to know each other, build a relationship and learn about each other's beliefs.  These dates could last for weeks or even months.  Which you may say "Wait, isn't that what a guy is supposed to do with a girl?I" You have yourself a point there, you have yourself a point.  If the boy boy passed the father's inspection, he would be granted permission to take the girl out on a date (with a chaperone, of course.)  

If the boy didn't gain daddy's approval, however, he was shot down.  And the fair maiden daughter at home was left protected, safe and un-hurt thanks to her father's fortress and shield.  Her heart was not divied out in pieces to the men of this world, but was left whole - still waiting - for her one and only husband.  

It's hard for me to not launch into a rant about how deeply I disagree with this "model" of finding a life partner.  How, first of all, the father's assessments by no stretch of the imagination could conclude if the boy was a "strong leader" - all the assessments could conclude would be if the boy was a strong obeyer.  Father's set the rules, if the boy obeys and says yes to the right questions, he's in.  If he doesn't, however, he's toast.  Or how about the natural, good, lovely building of a friendship?  A REAL friendship?  Even the boys that ended up hurting me were my friends.  Very good friends.  Every single one of them talked with me, laughed with me, shared with me, made memories with me and had fun with me.  The friendships weren't separate from "feelings" but the friendships were real.  Or maybe we could talk about the fact that a father believes he has a better grasp on what his adult daughter needs in a life partner than she does, that God isn't able to lead her.  That she is just too young, unwise, swayed by emotions, fragile and hormonal to know who would really be a good for her.  Maybe the biggest one for me: how is man supposed to "hear from God" about a girl before he even knows her?  And then once he does "hear" that she is the one, what happens when the father turns him down?  Did the boy hear wrong?  Or did the father make a mistake?  I do believe that God can and sometimes does literally speak to a person about future life decisions, including who to marry.  But to place that kind of pressure on a man as a requirement to possibily take a girl on a group date… well, that's just too much.

That kind of thinking and approach was one Caleb was set on.  To be honest, his parents really did not even teach him that rigid courtship system, or believe it themselves!  Caleb just subconsciously applied what he was seeing around him as final truth.  had never asked out a girl because he had never heard that "she was the one."  So he was stuck, unable to ever really pursue a girl he liked.  He could try to talk with a girl at family events, and obviously stalk her Facebook or blog… but that was it. He often wondered "What will this 'hearing from God' look like? How will I know?"  With an underlying belief that if he blew this, he just might be blowing his favor with God, he treaded extremely carefully.  

His respectful, masculine, genuine, good-guy self garnered a whole lot of attention from the ladies, and he always had a slew of girls circling in his head he was keeping tabs on, but all of "that" led to barely any friendship and zero romantic relationship.