Woods Family | Hoboken Coffee Roasters At Home | Family Portraits in Guthrie

i could be sweet
and i could be sweeter
i want to be where your heart is home
she & him - home

You met Trey and Mallory behind the bar at Hoboken Coffee Roasters.  You met their dream - their wooden, mechanical, brown, window-ed, handmade dream.   You met a part of them that isn't just their career or their work, but their hearts on display on Division Avenue.  Hoboken is more than a part, but it isn't the whole.

Today you'll at least get to meet more of the parts, that will help you know the whole far better.  The parts about an OSU cowgirl-student, paying the bills by working at a college town coffee house.  The parts about her meeting Gerald Woods, the Third (or "Trey," for three.  Get it?)  The parts about an engagement three months later.  And a wedding four months after the "Will you?" And the parts about their bike ride - on their bicycles, with pedals and wheels that runs on human muscle, determination and exhilaration - from Oklahoma to Oregon.  Yes.  The parts about their time in Eugene, working working working, playing playing playing, learning learning learning, dreaming dreaming dreaming.   They continued to pay the bills by being hired at, well, where else?  Coffee shops.  And they looked forward to big new parts.  Baby parts and a shop of their own parts and a house to make their home (at least for a good long while) parts.  

On a personal note, before I wow you with more heartwarming Woods tales, I have to recite, once again, why I love shooting people in their real life.  I'm not the biggest fan of styled shoots (I understand their fun and place), I'm never going to be a commercial "America's Next Top Model esque" photographer (but I sure am glad someone does it, because I adore the spreads in Vogue and Vanity Fair), I have no desire to learn camera and photoshop tricks and magicals to create Popular Page worthy Flickr creations (though I adore it when those are well done - they're dreamy.)  Honestly, I could take or leave photography.  And "art."  Not in the world, oh no.  But in my own life - I don't "need to take pictures!"  What I do "need," however, is to create (bedrooms or meals or outfits or blog posts) and to know people.  I'm far less bubbly and outgoing than I was a few years ago.  I may be less social and, heck, even less friendly!  But my heart is "on" and I'm addicted to knowing and discovering the stories of people.  I love shooting a birth story or a wedding or a friend of mine at the pool.  I just, oh, feel alive!  Like life is tasty and happening and dazzling!

And here, in a living room on Oak Street, in a town set aglow by the promise of "Munson and Sons" (or "Mummy Fords," depending on which old lady in town you speak with), is a wife and mamma and female who doesn't know how to pin something onto Pinterest.  And a husband and daddy and man who looks like American Storybook Jesus, according to my husband.  And a coffee-shop babe who takes her naps under a espresso machine, and who kind of looks like a munchable little coffee treat herself.  And this is where they wake up and come home and close their blinds and take their showers and park their jeep and rest.

And it makes me feel alive.

They moved into this home, less than two minutes from their store, last month.  They have hardy plans for it.  When we opened the blinds they fell off the window and Mallory tossed them into the kitchen.  Where the dish and clothes washer live.  And the plaster needs to be repaired in the walls, and the bathroom isn't "them" at all.  Just the night before this shoot Mallory went all "destroy the shower doors!" and hung up a curtain and rod in their place.  It's just on the cusp of all it will be, but it's undoubtably theirs and beautiful.

In my various conversations with the Woods family over the past eight months, I've watched a trusty thread stitch their thoughts together.  "It just wasn't us, ya know?"  "That was just SO 'me'!" "It was us!" "It really wasn't 'me.'" They have some of the most developed, unstuffy, natural, pleasant, makes-you-feel-comfortable-not-judged-happy-not-like-a-failure sense of personal taste and desire I've ever come across.  They aren't trendy or trying to be cool - they just dress and decorate and drink and do what they love!  It's so simple and good. 

Trey is the sort of person who you feel really proud-of-yourself when you've made him laugh.  He's easy to talk to, interesting and not-shy - but he also doesn't pity-laugh.  Mallory, on the other hand, is a feather of a speaker and, if she caught on that you were making a joke, would laugh no matter what - just to make sure you didn't feel bad.   But as a couple they make you feel like you're family.  It doesn't matter if you're at the shop or in their living room.   And their little offspring daughter is a holdable part of their love.  She is so easy to adore and want to be near.  She's (obviously) super used to being around people all day long.  She sucks her fists and is working on coordinating her back with her mind, and she looks at you like she's got you all figured out - and then usually smiles really big, which makes you confident that she assessed you well ;)

These three must be a little window light of heaven.  Everyone - from my own family to the church ladies to the Town Member of The Year to the instagram-and-tweeters to myself - have only experienced memorable, rich and addicting love from this crew.  It's honest and not something that can be faked or manufactured or posed.  

Trey, Mallory and young Autumn, er, Harmony (hahah just kidding. Harvest.) yes, you're beautiful.  "Inside and out," as they say.  Yes, you're inspiring.  But thank you, sincerely, for your hearts - especially towards people.  Thank you for not making people different than you (basically your whole town!) feel snubbed or looked down on.  Instead they feel a part of you.  Thank you for living out what you believe is best, but not talking about those things in a way that makes me-or-others feel like half-bakes.  You love differences and don't want everyone to be like you - you want them to be like them.  And you bring that out in people.  Thank you for talking about God like He's really your friend, and not like you're "good Christian folk who have to bring up prayer now."  It's obvious that your life in Him is so interweaved with your everyday life that they just simply can't be separated.  It doesn't feel hokey, ultra-spiritual or pushy.  It just feels right and helpful and delightful.  

Thank you for the start of a friendship - I hope our babies will be buds for a long long time, and I hope you'll get to eat at our bagel shop someday, and I hope for many nights and meals and BBQ's and holiday parties and coffee-breaks and conversations and knowings with our families.

It's been so nice to meet you.

Gatsby Spring | Monday Inspiration

“and so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,
 just as things grow in fast movies,
i had that familiar conviction that life 
was beginning over again with the spring.” 
f. scott fitzgerald

American Literature, in 11th grade, was my favorite.   My Antonia took me off-guard - I didn't expect to love it so much.  To Kill A Mockingbird was a heart-warming and real as ever.  Cheaper By The Dozen is probably the first chapter book I want to read aloud to my son.  I laugh at the same jokes - out loud - every time.  Our Town was eerie and kind of weird - the perfect way to playwright "normal" American life.  But The Great Gatsby.  My favorite book of the year. 

“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths  among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”
"Then she laughed, an absurd, charming, little laugh.  'I'm p-paralyzed with happiness.'  She laughed again, as if she had said something very witty.
She held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face,  promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. 
That was a way she had."

"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—
they smashed up things and creatures
and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness,
or whatever it was that kept them together,
and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”


“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry,
I turned away.”

"Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty,
told only of her unexpected joy."

“Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”

“It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirts before.”

Gatsby, the story of hideous, beautiful, miserable, rich, real people.  The sparkles, the pool parties, the vacation homes, the expensive clothes, the Eggs, the accomplishment and legacy, the art deco, the romance.  The part of me that loves old glamour, high heels, white spaces, anything regarding summer in The Hamptons, the hotel in Somewhere In Time, earrings, and all parts of pre-and-post World War I history felt quite understood and known and maybe a little jealous when reading.  To this day I dream about a tall room with ocean-like white curtains, "like pale flags," blowing in and out of the windows in summer breeze, twisting up to a "frosted wedding-cake of a ceiling."  I'd obviously be wearing white, too, perched on my anchor of an "enormous couch."
The time in the century, the lifestyle they led, the names they were known by:  all of it seems perfect, and dreamy.  Far more "me" than a Depression-town or the wild wild west or a nothing-to-do-po-dunk-village.  No, this THIS part of America was what thrilled me!

And part of why I love Gatsby is because the characters have terrible lives.
Twisted, selfish, shallow, high-class lives.  The juxtaposition makes me warm and type-y.  "They weren't happy... but they weren't unhappy, either."  Dill and Mr. Gilbreth and Miss Shimerda were happy - in their hard-knock sort of ways.  But not the Buchanans.  Or Jay.  Or Myrtle. 

Maybe I just love that you really can't judge a book by it's cover, and that, to quote a dying king in The Swan Princess "It's not what it seems! It's NOT WHAT IT SEEMS!"  There's more to the story, and like a spelunker in the caves, I love to chip away and find out who someone really is, not who they seem to be.

Needless to say, I am greatly looking forward to the May 10, 2013 Warner Brothers theater release of this story.   Leonardo, Tobey, Carey? Don't let me down.

In the meantime, can someone let me know if they find this version of the book, well, anywhere?  It's divine.  Yellow - the perfect color theme for the story.  Daisy, summer, gold, sunshine or... sickly, vile, puke.  It's one of those colors that can be so perfect and happy when it's right, and staunchly ugly when it's a few shades off.

I think these $12 art deco (yellow) earrings are the grandest little pop of "East Egg" to an outfit.

modcloth

Maybe with this ponte knit, rich raspberry, 20's inspired day dress?  Not to mention it's on sale for $19.99...

gap maternity

If money were no bother, I'd easily grab up two or three of Behida Dolic handmade creations.  Look through her whole etsy.  EVERY single one is chilling and sensational.

behida dolic

behida dolic

For a more casual, budget-friendly me, I think adding brooches to a top knot is ultra classy.   I'm over "brooches" in general, but I do think this is a clever and spiffy way to use them... subtle and sassy!

the glitter guide

This lot of seven pins is only $28, too!  Not bad!

etsy

I need a friend to need a birthday/shower/spring party to be thrown.  Maybe I'll just throw one myself (yeah right.)  But this $22 (on sale!) Global Amici cake stand is harassing me.  It won't leave me alone. It keeps telling me I need it. "Especially because my stem is exaggerated - how fetching would I be on a food table?" he says.  I have no come-backs.  Yet.

fab.com

The party will also need these paper placemats.  The good news is that I currently own them.  Happy joy bubbles finger dance!  You can buy them, too, at Layla Grace (trick: they are $25, but if you sign up for their e-mail subscription, you get a $25 off a purchase coupon! Woop!) I was stopped dead in my... blankets... when I came upon this Gatsby-Inspired-Garden Wedding on The Lane (photography by Lara Hotz).  THIS is how it's done, ladies and gentleman.  Yellow bow-tie and all.  This is now the inspiration for my someday-giant-cake-stand-confetti-place-mat party.




My favorite pin of the week happens to be these imagined "business cards" of the guests at Gatsby's party.  The bunch at The Heads of State created them.  And I'll never be the same.
Happy Monday, everyone.  And if you're surrounded by snow - go read these two pages.   And pretend you're drinking cucumber-lime water.

Red Dirt Home | Personal

Flashback: September 21, 2012

The Design of a House by Wendell Berry

"Love has conceived a house,
and out of its labor
brought forth its likeness
- the emblem of desire,
continuing though the flesh falls away.

Love foresees a jointure
composing a house, a marriage of contraries,
compendium of opposites in equilibrium.
Let severeness be as dividing
as budleaves around the flower!
- woman and child enfolded, chosen within.

This is a love poem for you -
among wars, among brutal forfeitures of time
in this house,
among latent fires and stillness,
among all that honesty must see,

I accept and love you.
And our Baby,
precious and periled in her happy mornings,
whose tears are mine.

Love has visualized a house,
and out of its expenditure
fleshed the design at this cross ways
of consciousness and time:

Its form is growth come to light in it;
croulants, gardens,
are of its architecture,
labor its realization,
cities we have gone to and come back
are the prospect of its doorways.
And there's a city it dreams of."

Giveaway Winner!

Phew!  You all sure know how to try for a prize!  What fun it was to read all the entries + count up all the votes :)  I really hate that part of giving something away... because I want to give the gift to everyooooone.  And it breaks my heart when "only" one can win.  Then I have to go into coach-Kristen-mode and not let the emotions get to me. 

SO.  After counting up ALL 638 votes.  We find ourselves using the handy-dandy True Random Number Generator Tool aaaaaand:

Lucky Number Eight!  I was expecting something crazy like 234 or 551 or 391.  But nope!  It was number 8 :)     
Congratulations Essie Jane - e-mail me your home address so I can get you your goods.  You're going to have FUN!

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 :)  

New Blog Design + Giveaway 2013

"toto,

i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore."

dorothy - wizard of oz

I once read about a study done to test human "follow" patterns and herd mentality.  There was a test subject put in a room with 19 people.  The test subject was under the impression that these 19 folks were other testers, but in reality they were "in" on the experiment.  They all did a brief written test, then they had some group projects to do.  A simple math problem was put up on a board (something like 63 + 24).  As the group discussed, they all instantly agreed the answer to the problem was 97.  The one tester was quiet and hesitant.  He counted on his fingers.  But in the end, he just said what everyone else did.  "Yeah, 97."  You've probably seen those youtube pranks where a large group of people will turn a corner and come running and screaming down the alley.  Often the clueless passerby will join in and run with them!  Why run? I DON'T KNOW! BUT EVERYONE ELSE IS! NINETY SEEEEVEN!!!

Launching a new blog design at the beginning of the year feels a little flock like to me (I'm obviously rounding up the group in the back).  Winter, after holidays, is obviously the most practical time for a primarily spring to fall photographer to get other business tasks done.  Last winter I was set ablaze thanks to Alt Summit and I decided to re-do my blog and start writing out my love story.  I also instituted the Enjoy Project.  I wanted to start taking the gradual turn into expanding my vision for this blog, as well as my vision for my career and daily life.  I was single, renting a room with my friends and on the verge of so many bigs.

One year later,  I'm a wife who shares a happy apartment with a stud-muffin.  I'm a mother, who shares her body with a little son.  I'm writing more, cooking more (well, I was cooking more... now I'm eating more. haha.), I'm taking steps to figure out how to actually turn a blog series into a real book.  We're taking our hard-earned cash to Oklahoma to finish building our house.  We're talking often about that soup & sandwich shop we want to open someday.  I'm taking fewer weddings, and more "other shoots."  I realize that I love wedding photography, but I don't love a lot of wedding photography.  I hope to shoot weddings until my hips break, but I find myself far more interested, inspired and emotional when my shoots vary - from promotional shoots, maternity shoots, documentary style shooting, portraits, babies, weddings, home life.  This goes against what I had been taught.  "Don't try to be average at a lot of things!  Focus on ONE thing! Specialize in one area!"  For some people, that is probably great advice.  But for me, I need the variety.  I do better in all areas when every week has brand new events.  Maybe that is why I loved sports?  You practice and practice, but have no idea what to expect come game time.  A music recital isn't like that.  You practice and practice and practice your piece... and then... you play... that same piece!  Just like you practiced! (hopefully.)



All of that to say, I needed a site that could keep up with my varied interests and pursuits.  A place that looked like, you know, a grown woman's site.  It was time.  97! ;)  The dear, talented Hannah Nicole took over my giant dream.  She is the one to thank for the new branding and design.  Please sing her praises and love her a lot.   Hannah, you're absolutely one-of-a-kind and dazzling.

But WHAT is a new design, without a giveaway?  Come on!  That's the way to share the love!  One lucky man, woman or child is going to be the proud and delighted owner of these four gifts:

$100 Southwest GiftCard
$100 Etsy GiftCard
Smitten Kitchen Cookbook
Soft Leather Journal 

You pretty people have ONE week to enter!  Next Monday the winner will be announced!  Cheers throughout the land!  Let the dancing in the streets begin!  (And you all better hope I don't keep these for myself.  I all of these prizes for myself.  Especially the cookbook.  How well do you trust my character... muhahah? ;)

Six Stupendous Social (like an ice cream club!) Ways To Win The Prizes!

Tweet about it: follow me on twitter + then retweet my giveaway tweet to your pack of wolves! (make sure my handle is included so I see that you did it!)
Instagram about it: Screen-cap the new blog design or giveaway list, and let the photographers of the land know about the giveaway (make sure you mention me... and if you're instagram is private, follow me and leave me comment on my photo so I see your entry!)
Pin it: Re-pin the giveaway list and tag me in a comment!
Blog it: Feel free to steal my giveaway list jpeg and post it on your own blog, linking back to my blog.
Facebook like and share it: Like my page on Facebook! And then share

*Comment [required]: And tell me what you'd do with your winnings! (Where would you like to fly off to with your Southwest giftcard, or what you have your eye on over at Etsy?  Who do you want to wine and dine?  Any fun reasons to have a new journal?) (you can also comment separately and let me know how else you entered, if you want to be sure I see it!  I'll be keeping a tally system with each name, but I know how it is.  If you're going to do all the hard work, you want to be positive it is getting you a shot at the paaah-riiizze!)

Alright!  I'm... happy.  This is fun.  I hope you enjoy it all!

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...

Too Many Announcements | I'm Kristen Workshop + Extras

cause all I know is we said "hello,"
and your eyes look like coming home.
taylor swift

I've been a bustling toaster over here - doing more than just eating + reading birth stories on mom blogs! (though my husband might question that...) - so I have LOTS to share today.  First of all!  TODAY is the details of "The StoryTime WorkShop day"!  We have dates! And applications! And... things!     

April 26 + April 27 + April 28 

(three full days... it'll be a long, full, joyous weekend!)

The price includes "lodging," three meals a day, and all workshop materials.  You will be responsible for any "extras" like travel, trinkets, snacks and shopping.   To apply, please fill out this application and e-mail it to me (if the link is being wonky for you, e-mail me and I'll send you the application in an attachment!).   The last day to apply is February 2, 2013.  I will announce the group the following week, so everyone can make plans accordingly.  I'm also offering a payment-plan instead of a one-time-time-payment-chunk, so if you are interested in that, please note in your application!  I know how hard many (most!) of us are working to save, spend smartly and make decisions about what is best for us at the time, and I want to do all I can to help, not hinder.  

As a reminder, this workshop is geared towards photographers and also more "inspirational" than technical.  Though we will talk photography and do shoots, the goal of this is to really spark and thrill our minds and hearts, and help our delight in stories spill over into our photo-taking.  If you are looking for a business-start-up or "how-to"session, this likely won't be the answer to your dreams!

GUYS. I'm really very excited.  I hope you are too!  Please spread the word if you think any of your pals and gals would be interested in joining the hootin' and hollerin'!  And apply!  Ps.  There are no "rules" on how to apply... if you want to make it "fun" and answer these questions through a more creative means than an e-mail (video/blog post/graphic) by allllllll means!  No pressure.  E-mail works brilliantly too.  WONDER WONDER THIS IS FUN!

Also, coming very soon is the super-trendy-"off-season"-blog-revamp.  I can't wait for you to see!

But here's the kicker (and why you should be PUMPED about the new blog design) is that when the new blog appears... there will be a giveaway.  This isn't happening yet.  But it's happening.  For real.  And one lucky little person will win these FOUR prizes.  Grand slam, if I do say so myself!

As cool as all this is... I'm most happy about finding out what our little person is: a he or she :)  Also.  My basketball team is undefeated (the only team in the school who hasn't lost!)  OH!  And I've baked two days in a row, which is a record for me.  This week might be more fun than wedding week... Gracious.  

What Little Behrs Know | One Year Portraits

    Little Behrs live with full-emotions.  Little Behrs don't know about self-control or fear of man or peer pressure.  They know about swinging, though, and they know swinging is really good. Little Behr's don't know about laundry or stains or shipping costs or coupon codes.  They do know about grass and outside and crawling wicked fast.
Little Behr's don't know about hiding emotions or keeping secrets.  They tell you everything they're feeling.  "I AM HAAAPPY!"


Little Behr's don't know about L-lenses or savings or business investments or faster shutter speeds.  But they do know about shiny, and they would like so much to touch what is shiny.

Little Behr's don't know about betrayal or broken promises or lies.  Little Behr's do know that dada and mamma never ever drop him when he's swinging. He always wants to do it again.



Little Behr's don't know about calories or The Food Pyramid or BMI's or organic.  Little Behr's do know about eating, though.  They love eating.  Eating is a joy to Little Behr's.  However, they still aren't sure if leaves are good for eating.  They'll have to decide later.

Little Behr's don't know about enemies or fake or disingenuous friends.  They do know that Other Bear's are perfect for sneak attack hugs.


Little Behr's don't know about depression, heart-break or hate.  They do know about being sad... and it is very sad when the doggie walks by and doesn't stop to say hello.

Little Behr's don't know about grammar, sentence structure, clever delivery or wit.  But they do know about funny, and that NO one is funnier than dada.

Little Behr's don't know about jail, police men or law.  But Little Behr's do know what "no" means, even if they pretend they don't.

Little Behr's don't know about comparison, self-conciousness, or not measuring up.  They do have big ears, and they drool, and their hair grows un-evenly.  And Little Behr's don't even know how handsome! And cute! And, just, beautiful! they are!  They don't even know.

Little Behr's don't know about politics, or swear words, or judgmental Christian's, or car accidents, or terrorists, or homework, or stealing, or eternity.  But Little Behr's do know that being alone in the night isn't as good as being held by mama.  Come on, Little Behr's aren't stupid.  They also know about teeth.  And teeth hurt a lot.  So don't tell me they don't get it.

Little Behr's don't know about productivity, to-do lists, failure, haters, bills or commutes.  Little Behr's DO know about walking, though.  Even though Little Behr's choose to fall over and crawl when they could walk all on their own.  Sometimes Little Behr's just aren't ready for the next step.  And that's okay... because Little Behr's won't get to crawl around forever.

Little Behr's don't know about a lot of things.  But Little Behr's know a lot more than me, sometimes.   They know about trust, living in the moment, not worrying about the future, smiling whenever, and the joy of almost everything - especially bath time.

Thanks for all you've taught me, Little Behr.  I miss seeing you everyday.  I miss hearing your "Oh wooow!" exclamations.  I miss watching you do and try new things every single morning.  But I love you, Little Behr.  Happy 12 Months of life and living.  Stay little as long as you can, okay? Love, Aunt Titi

Five Guys Bags | Enjoy Writing

sweetest invitation, 

breaking the day in two

i'll wait for you

virginia moon - foo fighters

My mom carefully and happily my younger brother's returned school paper to me.  I think it's the best writing I've read all month.  Or maybe the most beautiful.  Or maybe just my favorite.  I don't know.  Most pre-teens, for a Thanksgiving assignment, would shoot off the easy ones "I'm thankful for my family, my friends, food and a home."  But then again, my brother isn't like most pre-teens.

I'm Thankful For... [By Little But Growing Brother]

I'm thankful for the sound when you open a Snapple, because it's refreshing and relaxing.  I'm thankful for every rainbow I see, because it's a promise from God.  I'm thankful for the people who rented our house, because they didn't use all the firewood we left and now we have some.  I'm thankful for my Call of Duty Modern Warfare games, because they give me some sense to the fact that our country could be attacked.  I'm thankful for today, because I got to experience another great day of my life.  I'm thankful for hearing my favorite song come on the radio because it relaxes me.  I'm thankful for the cold side of the pillow because it helps me sleep at night.  I'm thankful for every time something is cheaper than I thought it was, because it saves money.  I'm thankful for the amount of fries in a Five Guys bag, because it's more than I paid for.  I'm thankful for every time I'm early to somewhere, because I don't have to be nervous about being late.

Do you have any "random" but thoughtful grateful-s today?  Mine is probably the black shutters on our house.  I love black shutters. 

Hoboken Coffee Roasters | Guthrie Local Shop

"what city, what town
so many roads 
mothered in stone 
surrounded by bones 
it feels so alone 

the last waltz
don't mean the last dance is over."

the band - the last waltz

Priscilla Ahn music video style, Trey and Mallory had a dream.  A coffee shop, opened and run with heart and soul.  Made to meet, know and love people.  Napkin sketching and imagining.  Cue the harmonica.  Penny pinching and saving.  Waiting patiently.  Honing in on the details: a coffee shop where they not only ground and brewed the coffee, but even roasted it themselves.  Where every cup, every sip, every flavor was the reward of many hours of effort, not a simple online shipment order.  The coffee house would be for family, for strangers, for their kids, for us, for we, for love.  They dreamed.







And it's funny.  Amidst an ex-Oklahoma-state capitol-turned-Small-Town-USA, where there are too many antique shops, a "Cowboy Cafe" and Stables Diner, and a town centerpiece (the highschool football field), where grand-dads and toddlers wear Ariat's and Wranglers, where the choirs sing every Sunday in all four side-by-side churches, where 25 buildings are empty and for sale, where the parking outside looks like a Ford F350 commercial, where the entire, conservative, drawled town takes off work early to watch the homecoming parade at 2:00 pm, where not a single chain store is allowed to open (the city council wouldn't allow it), where the older ladies gossip at the hair salon, where the culture is a country-people who "grew up workin' on the land," where they "fell in love with a small town woman and... a few years later... seven people livin' all together in a house built with his own hands," where tornado shelter signs are plaqued to old brick, where cobblestone says a weary "hello." under the worn-down parts of asphalt, where all the fine folks, bless their heart, are meat-and-patate-a's folks, where mom's yell down the street "HEY! All ya'lls better getch yur-selves up that hee-ill! School's startin'! And you otta be busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin' contest!" - in this town - a young family who seems to fit the Portland, Greenwich Village, Kinfolk world, did the beautiful and opened up their dream.  And a little lady in her skinny jeans, head wrap and moccasins pours over a cup (made with love), while her forever-boy mans the french press in his hoodie - very skater-meets-hipster like.  And it's Guthrie, Oklahoma.  Not a trendy new chain in Chevy Chase, or a typical mountainside place in Vancouver.  In the land of fried chicken bucket bets, hunting, Carhart jackets, leather boots and Stetson cowboy hats this couple, and their new baby girl named Harvest, have successfully stayed true to their personal vision and personality and the entire town is simply smitten with them.   An Anthropologie in the middle of a rodeo.  This hasn't been done.  It's brave.  And it's working.  Watch out - this sleepy sweet town is on the rise, and because of people like Trey + Mallory, it's going to be a different place in five years.  Better.  Home-ier.  Lovelier.



"Oh, we wrote our blue-prints and design ideas on notebook paper!" They drive a very simple car, Trey actually bikes almost everywhere, they've saved and saved and saved so they can do it "right" and not get themselves into the crazy world of debt, they waited.  "And prayer, Kristen," Mallory told me with a gentle head-shake and tight-lips - if she could let herself, she probably could have cried - "God has taken this and made it so much more than we ever thought it could be.  You can do the numbers and the math, and then God just blows it all away.  He's blessed us.  Prayer.  We spent so much time in prayer.  He's been so good."

And now their people-oriented, town-focused, made-with-love, share-their-hearts coffee house is real.  It's hard.  And you can see it. And it's not an idea anymore.  Hoboken Coffee Roasters is open.




The unroasted beans below and the eye-catching roaster above //





Roasted beans!  About to be ground...



























































The stories in this small building could delight your soul for hours.  The $20 Chandeliers Story.  The Sweatshirt In The Guthrie Sports Museum Window Story.  The Crib in the Corner Story. The Home Made (nearly) Everything Story.  The Blue Print Story.  But, really, the story Mr. Woods and his Woodsy Wife and round Harvest Woods want you to know about is the one where Love came to earth, and did good and beautiful (and eternal) things, so we can spend our life (forever) enjoying good and beautiful things, and we don't have to fear the evil and ugly.  They want you to know the story about how Love changes everything - your soul and your cup of coffee.

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and props to their designer, emma dime, for the remarkable logo!

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...

A Breakfast Birthday For Audrey | Enjoy Making

you'll never know dear 
how much i love you ricky nelson - you are my sunshine A few weekends ago, Little Audrey turned three whole years old.   She's been daintily, cautiously, sweetly keeping us in stitches, exploring this big-bad-world and wrapping her around her finger since day one.  I had nothing to do with this party other than attending :)  All credit for the Saturday morning, breakfast-birthday goes to Mama Janet and her beautiful mind.


We started the fun off right with scrambled eggs (and fixings!), bacon, fried potatoes and fresh fruit.


There was also tasty "breakfast sushi" that was gobbled up fast.  (Peanut butter a peeled, whole banana.  Roll the banana in rice-krispies and slice!)

But the centerpiece of the morning was obviously the donut cake.

Jan had a classy color-scheme: baby pink and seafoam, with black, gold and white.  She decorated old cans and filled them with baby's breath and succulents.




She also whipped out the embosser a time or two for this party.  I think I know what my next craft purchase is going to be ;)






Ladies of the hour!

So darling and lovely, Jan. Like always.

After food, the kids played a rousing game of Bite The Donut.  It was pretty funny ;)


The cheering squad!


A more vicious approach:


"Behr do it?!"





"Yeeess!"

Next was candles and "cake" - Audrey was really thrilled by this part of the day :)


A few gifts wrapped the morning off nicely (hee. hee.)




Audrey's biggest surprise of the day was her own circus tent, from Uncle KyKy.



We ended the party with our own bags of popcorn and more sweet memories of the one-and-only Audrey.


(Audrey's face is brought to you by the phrase "biiirthday poooop!" which was somehow her favorite thing to say that day?  Oh little girl.)

The Morris' love all of you Remmies!  Here's to many, many more kids, their birthday's and celebrations to come :)

Lauren Loo Bear | Child Portraits

“she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, after time,
 be herself a grown woman...
and how she would gather about her other little children,  and make their eyes bright and eager 
and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows,  and find a pleasure in all their simple joys." lewis carroll - alice in wonderland She is full of life, personality, expression and beauty.   My baby sister is kind of a young woman.  Enjoy getting to know one of the best people I know.

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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Ten Words | Flashback to 2007 | Enjoy Project

Lesson: Shipwrecked:

Ship Sailed:




Cannot win them all.  Sail anyway. 

Our Wedding | Invitations

"open in the name of the king!
an urgent message from his imperial majesty"

cinderella receives an invitation to the ball

Call me "Georje Bahnks, Georja BAHNKS," because I feel like I'm walking through my allegorical wedding "mess."  Cue the fizzing champagne bubbles.  "I used to think a wedding was a simple affair."    As thrilled as I am to be living as a wife and as happy as I am about the great adventure of life before us, I can't help but play through our last few days of engagement and our wedding day.  We had a truly wonderful time planning our wedding.  The hardest week, was also the fastest week, and was also the last week ;)  I love being a wife more than being a fiance' or bride, but I loved both of those roles.  In every way.   So now?  As I wait to see my own wedding pictures from Shannon, I'm going to unveil little bits of our day.  Today is our invitations!  I talked about our wedding inspiration in the spring and I'm thrilled with how our ideas turned into real products we could touch and keep.  Here's a little refresher on the feel we were hoping for (that whole playful-yet-royal, childlike-yet-elegant vibe? Remember?):       We made our invitations ourselves, and I knew exactly what I wanted them to look like (well, almost exactly.) I designed the invitation-wording in photoshop.  I can't tell you how many slim sans-serif fonts I looked through!  And as much as I would have loved to have hand-calligraphed invitations, I found a very budget-friendly solution!  Calligraphy by Hilary hand wrote our names and then sent me the jpeg file over e-mail.  I loved having custom handwriting (instead of a script font) - it felt very Cinderella to my heart ;)  Two colored card stock squares and thread finished off these babies!

She also hand wrote and then made a stamp with our return address.  This was also so nice because we didn't have to worry about printing on the letterpress envelopes and something feels satisfying and old-fashioned about stamping from ink pad to paper!

The inner envelope was a spanking gold vellum with confetti-glitter band.  Double sided tape for the win. (Special thanks to my new mother-in-law for hand punching all the confetti for me!)

The final product!


We ended up using five or six different colors of card stock.  I couldn't make up my mind and just pick two! Haha!

A close-up of the stamp.  When it went well... it went really well.  When it was messy, it was REALLY messy.  I don't even want to know how many envelopes we had to toss ;)


A few thoughts (tips? lessons?) if you make your own wedding invitations:

1 // Have my friends.   
Starting with Caleb, then to my mother, then to my Aunt Pam and Becca, Janet, Lydia, Katie... they helped, worked, tied, cut, counted and breathed these into existence.   It got a little frustrating at times (printer formatting, blade-breaking, wrong measurements, etc), but the crew didn't give on me!

2 // The details are worth it.
Once we started the project we weren't sure if we had to have the bow.  Or if we had to include the gold glitter.  But I'm so glad we pressed on and did those extra steps... even at 11:30 pm in a Florida hotel room the night before my entire family moved back to Maryland.  I wish I had planned better?  But I don't wish we had skipped the "little things."  I love how they added to - possibly even made! - the whole look.

3 // Buy your own paper, but let someone else print and cut it.
Unless you have a commercial printer, heavy duty paper cutter and warm comfort food on hand, I do not suggest doing this part yourself.  After a few days of printing/cutting, uh...haha, fun?, I finally took the invitation file and white card stock over to FedEx office.  An hour and $12 later everything was perfectly cut and crisply printed.  I should have done that from the start.  The paper there is a little pricey, however.  So go do your good amazon.com or coupon/sale/deal hunting and bring your paper to them.  So worth it.

4 // Have fun with the wording.
I loved writing out the invitation and choosing the words very carefully.   Joyfully.  Celebration.  Respondez S'il Vous Plait.  I say: say what you want to say, not what "the websites" tell you to say.  Does that make sense?  Use words you love and make it your own.  I say.  You say.  We all say for ice-cray!

5 // Invite me to your wedding.

I just love weddings - more than ever.  So I want to come.

;)

I was so pleased with how these turned out.  Especially because I think they complimented the other paper goods (the bridesmaids books, the programs, the table cards) but they also gave such a perfect introduction to our wedding.  And after all his grumpy, doting dad-ness, George was right: getting married is a NOT the same as "having a wedding."  And we girls do love our weddings... and the perfect "welcome" to the wedding really matters sometimes.

Baby Autumn | Daily Life Portraits

"love the girl who holds the world in a paper cup."

danny's song - anne murray

For some reason, being a child in a big family prompts unusual family-planning questions.  As a little girl I was frequently asked "Do you like being in a big family?"  Well.  I liked being in my family.  And it was big!  So, yes!  I did like being in a big family.  "Do you want to have a big family someday?"  "Yes, I would!" (I wish I would have responded with "Do you like being in a small family?  Do you want to have a small family someday?" but I never did.) Sometimes people remarked that I might change my mind when I got older, or that they just wouldn't be cut out for that.   But over the last decade as I've heard and answered that question, the most common response has been:  "You must love children, huh?"  I was always a little confused by that question ("You mean, there are people who don't love children?") but I always answered my third "yes" of the dialogue.  [I have more to say about this paragraph, but that's not for right now.]
As I've gotten older, I've spent more time studying, researching and thinking about children than any other topic.  Whether it be scripture, TIME magazines, internet forums, conversations with friends (or strangers), various books or my own thoughts - I've had plenty to mull over.   I've watched adults interact with children in public and private settings.  I've watched their reactions to an annoying or angry child.  I've watched their responses to a pretty and "good" child.  My little radars shoot up when children are around.  I watch closely - the children themselves, and the people around them.
In all this time, I'm not sure if I've encountered a better sentence about my heart towards children, said by the author of Goodnight Moon, Margaret Wise Brown: “I don't think I'm essentially interested in children's books. I'm interested in writing, and in pictures. I'm interested in people and in children because they are people.”  
In my house, and therefore in my world, children were people.  I don't mean that anyone thinks infants and toddlers are dogs, or matter, or subhumans.  I know we all "know" they are people, but, even subconsciously, many put them in a different category.  "Children are so difficult!"  "Children are so funny!" "Children are a lot of work!" "Children are expensive!"  Well, yes.  But people are difficult, and funny, and work, and expensive.  Some people I enjoy very much, others kind of get on my nerves - that includes newborns to the very elderly.  But no matter what they're like, or much effort it takes, I, with all my heart, believe that everyone should love children.  Because I believe that everyone should love people.  
Obviously there are a variety of personalities and "strengths" that sometimes do better with different kinds of people ;)  I honestly am not the best with kids.  I love being around them, but I think my kid-skills were so much stronger when I was 17 and 18.  Part of how I know this is because of my little sisters.  Shannon and Lauren are nine and eleven years old and could probably care for a 6-month old completely on their own for 24 hours.  And they have lived a life without infant siblings.  They are so good with little people.  
For two days we've watched a girl named Autumn.  It's been fascinating to see my family made up of elementary school children, pre-teens, college students and 50-somethings, transform for this little person.  Everyone wants a turn to hold her, to feed her, to dress her, to play with her.  Even the boys.  I don't think she's been put down since she's arrived.  We all squeal at her funny faces, re-tell stories about "what Autumn did today," work hard to keep her safe and happy.  She has brought joy to our home - and mess, and noise, and smells, and "work," I guess.  But, who cares about that?!  She's an incredible person.  And she has made our daily life sweeter and better.   
She's helped me love my sisters more - they honestly are capable beyond their years.  She's helped me love my brothers more - they have such a doofy soft side that she brought out.  She's helped me love my parents more - mom always knows what to do with her!  She's so experienced and gentle.  Dad is so funny with his "baby voices" and quirky insights.  "She is 98% eye-ball.  This isn't a baby, it's a life support system for two eyes!"  She's helped me love my husband more - he was so patient when she cried at 3:00 am last night, and so sweet as he got ready for work as quiet as possible so she wouldn't wake up.  
You are loved, little A!  Come back and visit us soon.  You're one of our favorite people!


Her Happy Food Dance ;)












She was trying to "share" her sweet potatoes with Kevin.  Kind soul ;)

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.