Lake Tahoe + My Family | Personal

"i can't help feeling,  we could have had it all." adele It's no secret that we've had deep sadness in our family this year.  My mom left behind her seven kids and husband in January, and our second kid left behind his mom, dad and brother in May.  But it's also no secret: we have had a dream-like year.  Caleb, Rowdy and I eat all three meals together nearly every day.  We both have more steady work this year than we've both had in years.  We have traveled more this year (after having a baby) than we have any other year of our life.  We've made great progress on our home in Oklahoma.  We've spent significant months with both sides of the family, even though they live 1500 miles apart.  We've been able to enjoy our healthy, weird, sweet, curious son learn and develop a personality. We haven't been away from each other for a single night.  The blessing of these things is not missed on me, and I'm sure life will not continue to be quite like this.  In fact, it could be drastically different one day.  But today?  My whole self will sing a thankful song, and then we'll swim in the blue. (Lake Tahoe was my mother's childhood summer hang-out.  The house her parent's bought when she was two is about 45 minutes from the lake.  I heard stories and saw pictures of long, hot 1960's days, colorful umbrellas against the mountain horizon, and small blonde girls jumping off rocks.  Once my mom had children she brought us back as often as she could.  This trip was Rowdy's first time to this heritage-place.  We went with my two sisters, one brother, and Uncle Scott.  There is power in place.) “Every place is given its character by certain patterns of events that keep on happening there… The more living patterns there are in a place - a room, a building, a lake, or a town -  the more it comes to life as an entity, the more it glows,  the more it has that self-maintaining fire which is the quality without a name.”   Christopher Alexander -- The Timeless Way of Building

Rowdy on The Rio Carousel | Personal

“We walked always in beauty, it seemed to me. 

We walked and looked about, or stood and looked. 

Sometimes, less often, we would sit down. 

The place spoke for us and was a kind of speech. 

We spoke to each other in the things we saw.”

 wendell berry | jayber crow

He saw it, for the very first time, on its inaugural day.  Last year we walked the local man-made "lake," passing the shops and restaurants of the outdoor mall.  Our baby was due in days, we walked and walked.  The year before we brought our spreadsheets and wedding folders to review over steak fajitas, and when we were done we walked and walked.  And the year before?  The night after our first kiss we had sandwiches at Corner Bakery, saw The Help at the theater, and walked and walked.  Nearly sixty years ago, my grandparents walked and walked a new park in their area -- a park named Disneyland.  "The story of my life..."  Rowdy's face, not just jaw but his while face, dropped when he saw the carousel for the first time.  He marched it's direction at a swarthy speed (only distracted by a balloon tower.)  He's a focused fellow and doesn't give away smiles freely, but one of his surest signs of happiness is when he's still.  He clasped the metal pole, sat upright, "oooooo"-ed.  Cogsworth and Lumiere and Mrs. Potts welcomed him as their guest through the speakers.  He waved good-bye when the ride was done.  He danced to the violins, eagerly introduced himself to new friends, he scaled the play-park, but also sat still on the steps.   If we could have one night to walk around heaven together, it must be something like last Saturday night.



























Ps. If you're in the Montgomery County area, go ride the new Washingtonian Rio Carousel!

Rowdy + The Lake | Personal

 “anything that works against you can also work for you  

once you understand the 'principle of reverse.'”  

maya angelou

To see some more pictures of neatest 11-month-old on the eastern seaboard, as well as a few thoughts the heart, head on over to our family blog ---> We Are The Family Morris .com!

Family Room Sessions for Mama Bear

"Action saves lives, awareness does not."

Erin Santos in the Huffington Post

The last couple of weeks, in particular, mom has spent a lot of time in our family room.  A typical day for her would be sleeping in the morning for as long as she can (it still riddles me how a body can be tired and yet not able to sleep.  Sleep is a gift.)  She'll come down to the couch and rest there until it's time for a soccer game.  She watches from the car and honks when her baby scores or does something impressive.  We take her home for dinner and more rest.  Most of the day I get to be with her and it's precious.  We sometimes run little errands together.  We watch the kitchen come closer and closer to completion.  We go through the late morning talk show line up -- Rachael Ray and Access Hollywood, The View and The Chew, and Ellen.  She naps to worship music on iTunes radio.  We let Rowdy do tricks for us and we respond adoringly.  And we talk.  We've talked about ten years ago when her cancer first popped up.  It's actually hard to think about.  She found a lump and went to get it checked right away.  She was told "it was nothing."  If I could go back in time... goodness.  Though her own mother had died from breast cancer, and was first diagnosed with it in her forties, and cancer is in her family history, this particular doctor's office announced "It was nothing" and that was that.  One year, and one baby later, my mom went back.  It was still there and she wanted another opinion.

Lo and behold it was a cancerous lump and, shocker!, it had spread into her lymph nodes during the year.  It's hard to think about how different our lives would be if one person had done their job thoroughly.  If it hadn't been able to spread and hideaway inside her.  (Trust us, we know. We know her days are numbered and we know God is in control of her life and our lives.  We know nothing happens apart from Him -- whatever that means exactly.  And most of all we know that He is the One who makes all things good.  Even errors on the job ten years ago.  Still sucks.) 

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  This post was supposed to kick off the month, not end it. But here I am, in October, with a request and a plan.  "Awareness" is an iffy word and idea.  Action, like Ms. Santos says, "saves lives."  Take the knowledge and do something with it.  Check yourself, and get mammograms, and if you feel something follow up on it.  If you are told "It's nothing." but you have a gut feeling it is something, get a second opinion right away.  Search it out until you are satisfied. Get it removed anyway, just in case.  Pay attention.  

Prevention, prevention, prevention.  Act on prevention.  Know what prevention means, and take the time to be sure.  Mixing all these things together (Breast Cancer Awareness Month, family room time, emphasis on prevention) I'm running a Family Room Photo Session for you and your lovies and bunnies.  

Here are the details: 

WHEN | november ninth + sixteenth
WHAT | a photoshoot in your family room of your family being a family.
HOW MUCH | $500 for an hour session and 40 edited digital files.
WHY | 50% of the session fee will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation,
(these lovely people are focused on prevention and early detection.)

I have four slots available -- the morning of November ninth, and the afternoon of November ninth, the morning of November sixteenth, and the afternoon of November sixteenth.  If you are interested in a session please e-mail me at kristen leigh photography at gmail dot com with the slot you'd like to fill.

Like I mentioned about, 50% of these family sessions will be donated in my mother's honor and name.  And, of course, anyone is welcome and encouraged to donate whatever you can.  If someone's "ten years from now" can be a less cancerous one because of our mama's story, I'd be a blessed daughter.

Perhaps the best "action" that can be taken is to love your family "so long as it is today."

From our family room couch,

Kristen + Mama B

Mama's Birthday | Personal

i had the best day with you,
today.
taylor swift - best day

We had a lovely time with the family for mama's birthday.  While Caleb and I were dating we visited the farm-to-table restaurant Grandale Farm.  We couldn't shut up about the views and the chicken-avocado-cilantro soup.  For years now my mom has wanted to visit and eat there too -- a 55th Birthday Lunch is the perfect excuse!  The last week or so has been especially hard for her.  She's almost finished with her ten days of brain radiation, but goodness, it's been exhausting and intense.  We were all hoping she'd have a bit of a break, but it really hasn't been :-/  (If you'd like to follow the blog I'm doing Mama Bear Updates on, go here.)  It was actually especially sweet to be together for her birthday in the middle of all the yuck.  The food was perfect (if you ever go, get the pig mac-and-cheese) and we went to an antique store that is closing down after 40 years (everything is 40% off!) to find mom some pretty blue + white dishes and treats for her new kitchen.  We laughed and really had fun and got along.  Doesn't get better than that :) (We missed you, Timmy!)

"Do not despise the day of small things." Zechariah 4:10

Red Dirt Roof | Our House

free, nothing feels like free
though it sometimes means we don’t get along
cause same, no, we’re not the same
but that’s what makes us strong
home - dierks bentley 

I tell people that he's a country boy, not a farm boy.  He's a small town boy, not a ranch boy.  He doesn't hunt in his spare time.  He'll go with the boys and have fun.  But he'd probably have just as much fun shooting a Justin Beiber poster hanging on a tree.  He doesn't like to deal with, let alone breed or feed or clean or skin, animals.  He loves nature - the trees animate him, the dogs annoy him.  Sunsets bring him to tears, goats and chickens and cows are... tasty.  He can't sleep in, unless it's Saturday and there is nothing planned for the day.  He is very confused by computers and all their tomfoolery.  Especially when it comes to formatting.  Talk about stress ;)  He's actually far less self-concious in groups of people than I am, and he rarely feels awkward.  He's happy and people are his favorite.  He is entertained by watching people - he takes it in and processes.  We joke that he's the quiet social butterfly and I'm the loud homebody.  He loves to "go out and do!" He loves to get things done.  He loves to come up with things to get done.  But he just learned how to use Excel when we got engaged, and still doesn't "schedule."  He just lives hard and thoroughly without being frustrated by daily timelines of ALL HE MUST GET DO.  It's a country quality.  There is peace in these plains.

I've wrongly acquired the title "city girl" in our story.  I've never lived in "the city" and I can easily go months without visiting "the city."  I'm a suburban girl.  Who has the option of going into the District of Columbia, the Nation's Capital, the city whenever I'd like.  I was born 8 miles away from the White House, where 42 presidents have lived with their families and pets.  Mr. Obama still lives only 20 miles away.  But I don't live in the city, I live just outside it.  With access to bay-towns, like Annapolis and Alexandria, where boats are docked and water is blue, and historical towns, like Mount Vernon and Harper's Ferry, which sometimes seem untouched since their colonial and civil war days, to country-towns, big and small, like Frederick and Brunswick, and national skyline cities like Baltimore and Philadelphia... and even Times Square in New York City, New York is only four hours away.

I personally grew up Home Owner's Association neighborhoods - with community swimming pools, the best part of summer, especially when we had change for the ice cream truck, and spontaneous all-street Man Hunt and Capture the Flag games, comprised of children from about ten different families.  Sure, there wasn't much yard space, but there was plenty of room for creative rascals to make memories and get an adrenaline rush.  The beach is three hours away, but I've also been a suburban girl outside of San Diego City.  And the beach, then, was only twenty minutes away.  Glorious.  Both in California and Maryland mountains were severely close by, and so were plains and fields, and traffic jams.  We have every kind of restaurant nearby - chains and mom-and-pops and breakfast and lunch and dinner and every country imaginable is represented.  There is no such thing as "we don't have that."  We do.  Somewhere in the near vicinity, we do.  There is a buzz in these suburbs.

"Cause same, no, we’re not the same
But that’s what makes us strong."

Early in March we drove two full days in my determined white Corolla, filled with tools and coconut-oil popcorn and four grown people and one growing person.  Oklahoma was our stop.  And to build the roof was our goal.  Caleb shouldered the largest responsibility, obviously, but we were dependent on our brothers and a few good friends.  One month.  We had one month to get it done.  

This dream-house has been a part of a number of mind-makeovers the last few years.  As a single boy, Caleb envisioned a dark, cozy, log lodge.  As I've said before, Hollywood High Heels Sparkles Leigh over here, ah-ha, well, didn't.  So we've imagined together what this house could be.  Decorations aside, what's the point of it?  We both want it to function like a suburban home - with cars and friends and people over constantly.  We want it to be warm and welcoming.  We want space for people to come and stay the night or stay the week or stay the month.  As long as they don't fuss when it's time to watch the Thunder games.  We want this house to buzz with life and bodies in the peace of it's Solitude Forest.  What once was a home with two or three bedrooms has turned into a home with five or six, and plans for another two-four to be added on someday.  One bathroom became four bathrooms.  The kitchen moved from being tucked away under the stairs into the great room, siamese twins with the family room where couches, eating, TV, the fireplace and food all happily spill together into the same space.  But first.  We needed a roof.

Day One on the site was crucial.  We needed to hunt down two oak trees to hold the roof up.  We called them our Giving Trees, chopped down to keep us safe and dry.  I was surprised at how emotional I was when we decided on them.  They were - are - so beautiful.  And we have twenty acres full of them.  And I'm no "tree-hugger" but I found myself wishing I could say "Thank you, pretty tree."  Maybe what I was feeling was gratitude to God - He made these trees so lovely, and it really is an honor to use them in our home.















After chopping the trees down, they had to be hauled from their location on our property over to the house.  The next step was bracing them upright so the roof construction could begin on them.  They look so little "inside"!




Once the trees were quite secure, it was time for the gables to go up and the framing to begin.







The framing took a long, long time.  This house is not simple and the angles are sharp, steep and frequent.  It took tough patience and OCD-awareness to cut and arrange every single board in the perfect place.

Midway through the framing process, Caleb had the topped of his finger smashed off.  See the long boards on the right of the house? ^ He was straddling the middle board that those are leaning on, with a nail gun, while the guys pushed boards up to him.  He'd "catch" the board, place it on the beam, and nail it down.  One time his hand was to close to the beam and the guys pushed the board up harder than they had in the past.  His finger jammed between the beam and board and the top popped off, yet was held on by his finger nail.  We rushed to the Guthrie hospital for Lidocaine, stitches and hopefully positive news.  It was not this woman's favorite part of the trip :-/  But thankfully, six weeks later, it's healed up very nicely.  A little weird shaped and the nerves are shot, but his finger is all there!  After the finger incident, he developed a corneal ulcer.  So he went to work everyday with a giant bandage/wrap/cast on his hand and a pirate-patch on his eye.  So pitiful and cute ;)

Day after day, early morning into late dark night, over and over, he and the boys, and I would drive up and down this road.  From town to his parent's house to our house.  Bit by bit, again and again.  Until we were finally ROOFED IN.  The day shingles went up was a day of celebration.  The site was like an anthill and the energy was colored.  Hot donuts from Missy's sat in a nearly untouched white box.  Everyone was too excited to eat.

While the "shingles crew" worked away outside, another set of guys started the interior framing.   This part of the project was up in the air.  Not necessary to get done this trip, but would certainly be nice to have completed!  They ended up having enough time and man-power to go for it.  In this next picture you can see the two trees holding up the roof.  A staircase will eventually lead up inbetween these trees to the second floor loft.  The top floor has a number of bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as a staircase leading to the massively-cool third story tower bedroom.  Under the loft: aka the first floor, is the master bedroom and bathroom, powder room and laundry room... then in the "open" area under the trusses are the kitchen, dining room and living room.



I drew chalk on the concrete where I wanted all the walls to go... My lines are wicked straight ;)

This is the view into the living room - the fire place is on the right, the kitchen is on the left.





Before long there was a second floor!  Incredible.


This is looking down into the master bedroom and walk-in closet:



Our good friend Wild Bill brought by some freshly milled cedar wood.  He makes all kinds of brilliant chairs and swings and beds and frames and hope chests and... well... anything, really! out of that gorgeous, fragrant, red wood. We hope to make some doors and window sills out of our own cedars :)


Dave and Kate (and Little Lillian and Keith) have popped up a few times in this post.  They are our next door neighbors, jolly good friends and the owners/runners of Merrick Valley Family Farm (certified organic, woot woot!).  They have a fascinating homestead.  I love to listen to them talk about their beliefs and ideas, and how they practically make them happen.  They are dreamers and do-ers and just so friendly and dear.  We love them.


A good summary of my life ;)

Dear Man,
I loved that you bought this land, and planned for this house, before I even loved you.  Now that we're in love and committed to love and I know you a whole lot better than I did when I first visited this land, I see how much of you is hidden in these twenty acres, like it was hidden in your heart.  Obvious things, like the design and architecture of this house.  While friends, and even your twin brother, built and recommended you build a more classic, traditional, straight-foward home.  Time and cost efficient, solid and relatively easy.  It made all the logical and practical sense in the world.  But you just couldn't do it.  A layered, dimensional, 45-degreed, intricate home was in your soul, and you just had to go for it.  A home where every single room is shaped differently, each with it's own set of personality and potential.  It's you.  And subtle things, like your visions for the rounded driveway, and the view that any guest would first see when arriving at the house.  Your vision for a green yard with lots of room for sports and play - in the middle of the woods.  Your plans for new additions, more houses on the property, and a bandstand at the top of the hill, where all the redbuds bloom, so we can have summer concerts with friends - it's all you.

When I first met you, I assumed you were a simple, straight-forward, traditional guy.  I had no idea how many corridors and ideas and mysteries and angles you had hidden away in you.  I had no idea you were so full of creativity and energy and imagination.  I had no idea you were so picky and thorough and flexible and spontaneous.  I assumed you were predictable and you've proven to be wonderfully surprising.   Consistent, yes.  Dependable, yes.  Predictable, no.

I love you, and all the parts of you know and I'll the parts of you yet to know.  Thank you for giving us this beautiful part of yourself.  I can't wait to tell our kids all these stories, and to show them all these pictures, and for them to get to know you, too.  You have worked far too hard to make this thing in your head a real place for us to enjoy.  And I adore it.  Even though I still sometimes get nervous about living in Oklahoma, those 20 acres - and that house in particular - is my favorite place in the entire world.

I love you. And I'm proud of you and just want to brag about you for pages.  "You have a beautiful mind." ;)

Love,
Me




Someday a spiral staircase will lead up to this small and magical third story tower room... but for now a hole in the floor board will do ;)





Check out the progress! I'm obsessed.


I can see it so clearly: windows in, deck built, grass grown, grill smoking, music playing, watermelon sliced.  I get carried away thinking about evenings here, ten years from now.




Good bye, house.  This was the last time we saw you... we're planning on being back in the fall, with a squishy ol' baby.  We have some windows to put in -- let's see if we can save the money in time ;)  We love you, Red Dirt House and can't wait for all the stories yet to come.  It was such a happy, sweet month of our lives putting this roof on.  The best is yet to come...

Remember when we said when we turned gray When the children grow up and move away We won't be sad, we'll be glad For all the life we've had And we'll remember when 

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 :)  

Gender Reveal | Meet Our Baby!

"what He desires, that He does.
for He will complete what He appoints for me,
and many such things are in His mind."

job 23

My striking and courtly grandmother was the first and only child in her family.   After she married my tall, brainy grandfather she had a son, but he died suddenly at 10 days old.  Shortly after, she was pregnant again.  My mother was born, and was the living eldest in her family of six.  Three girls and one boy and two parents.  Though my mother was sure I was a boy (and my nickname was "Baby Moses"), she delightfully found out her first child was a daughter.

My childhood was spent far more in imaginary settings than in reality.  I was endlessly playing games and making up families and stories.  Dollhouse, Barbie and invisible friends were my favorite activities.  My imaginary family consisted of me as the mom, and my four daughters (dad had died in war.)  I had one Ken doll, but he mostly just sat in the kitchen while the ladies kept busy preparing for the ball or searching for the missing bunny rabbit!  Though I was athletic, I was a girls-girl to the bone.

And my mom and I were a team.  Just like she and her mom.  Grandma (Bacca, to me) and mom had the sweetest, best friend, mother-daughter relationship.  Bacca had an envious relationship with all her daughters - and all her daughters had first-born daughters (in fact, my two aunts only ever had daughters!).  But I always thought of my mom the way she thought of her mom.  I had friends who wished they had an older brother.  I never did.  I loved being the oldest, and I loved being mom's pal.  We would take the latest baby with us on weekend shopping trips.  I, and just I, went with her when she found Bacca was dying.  We flew cross-country while she was nine months pregnant, and while we were in the hospital parking lot, Bacca died.  We got off the elevator and were told the news by mom's sisters.  And I was there.  Not my dad, not all the other kids, and now not even her mom.

I'd take the baby so mom could sleep.  Mom never missed my games, mom taught me how to cook and loved to let me learn, mom tried to help me with fashion and I refused to heed her advice.  Mom went to Chicago with me before my first big trip "alone" after highschool.  Mom and I get ourselves into the most ridiculous debacles, and we're so similar: messy, unorganized, big-hearted creatives... we are full of ideas, love to relax and make things beautiful, but usually do things the hard way.  I spent a week in the hospital with mom nearly a year ago.  She was the first person I called when I got engaged, the only family member waiting up for me when we got home that night, and the most excited about wedding planning.  I had two must-haves for the wedding: to marry Caleb, and for mom to be there.  The day I found out I was pregnant, I ran upstairs to find my mom and tell her... literally ten minutes after Caleb and I found out ourselves.  Mom came with us to the gender reveal ultrasound yesterday, and we're planning on her being there for the birth (we both need her.)  And that's just how it is.

In my mind, I always, mmm, wanted? No, I can't even say wanted... I think assumed.  In my mind, I always assumed that my first born and I would continue on what Bacca and mom, and mom and I shared.  It just seemed natural and how it would be.

When Caleb and I started planning our futures together, we both agreed we had a gut instinct that our first born would be a girl.  I was surprised when he said that, actually.  I thought he'd predict a son first. But he was oddly convinced we'd be a family of three: dad, mom and little lady.

After we actually found out we were expecting, we never even talked about "Do you think it's a boy? Or a girl?" it just was a girl.  All along.  We have a list of names we love, but one of the girl names especially seemed to fit this baby and we unintentionally started calling her that name.  When we announced at church that we were having a girl, a dear older man who has spoken into our lives through prayer and vision from the Lord, had a distinct picture of our daughter, and the phrase immediately associated with her was "what a joy! what a joy!"  I cried during his prayer for her - his prayer of not just being a joy to those around her, but having a deep and unnatural sense of God's joy.   Marked by stone-strong joy.

As the weeks went on, I thought it'd be fun to do all those little tests.  The Chinese gender calendar.  The string-and-needle-test.  The cravings test.  The "way you're carrying" test.  Girl. Girl. Girl. Girl.  I had strangers stop me out in public and tell me I was having a girl, because of such-and-such trait or quality I apparently had.  I had a few friends tell me "I don't know, you're awfully confident, but I have a feeling it might be a boy.  Just because you're so sure it's a girl.  Little boy is going to prove you wrong!"  I'd honestly try to imagine what they would be like.

What if this baby is a boy?  Wow.  It never really crossed my mind.  And I couldn't even begin to grasp that.  What if Little Clementine Joy Girl is... a he?  Trying to imagine that felt like trying to imagine Little Clementine Joy Girl being a fox, or butterfly.  I really want boys... in fact!  I'd love to have six boys after this first girl!  But, that's just not who was in me right now.  Between dreams, memories, desires, predictions, and plain ol' gut instinct, Caleb and I have always known she's our "she."

After basketball a few days ago, I was talking to one of the moms and she asked if I knew what we were having yet.  I responded, like I always do, "We haven't had the ultrasound yet, but I know it's a girl."  We talked for a few minutes about when she was pregnant with her first baby, and how she knew it was a girl.  "Actually, before I even got married I knew, and felt like I had it on my heart from the Lord, that I was going to have three daughters.  And I knew my first three were girls.  I couldn't really explain it, but I just knew."  I got a little misty, and felt heart-tugs "Yes! She knows what I'm experiencing!" (Oh, and she ended up having five daughters!)  Before Behr Kless was born, "we all" knew he was a boy.  Becca "knew" for years before she was even pregnant, and had even bought baby boy things! (Though, to be fair, I think she had one or two girl things... just in case.)  The first Kless baby was always "he" in my heart and mind.   We could never have fully imagined or prepared for Behr, but in the ways that we could, he was exactly "who" we were all picturing.  I know my mom often didn't have a strong feeling one way or another (and she waited to find out what it was when she gave birth), but I've been sure.  100% sure.  Just as much as I knew Caleb was "the one" for me, I knew this baby as a girl.  I would have been more shocked to find out the baby was a boy, then to find out it was twins or triplets.  In my heart of hearts, deep down deep, for maybe no rational reason.  I would probably even get a little offended when people would "tell me" I might be wrong ;)  But, how could they know and feel what I knew and felt?  They couldn't.  And that's okay.

I couldn't sleep much the night before last, and I was counting the hours until we got to go see Baby Love's face.  It took forever - like waiting for the boy you like to text you back.  But, time never stands still.  It always moves forward.  And it was finally time to (hopefully!) get the medical proof of what we've known in our hearts.

Without further ado, our baby:



Yup.  I was dead wrong.

When I saw that blue paint, I think I lost my breath.  The only thing that even comes close to comparing my shock was the feeling I had when Caleb proposed:  SHOCK.  I was very happy when Caleb proposed - very!  But at first, what I immediately felt?  Shock.  Surprise - but, like, more astonishment.  Lightning bolt, this does not feel like my own life, I think I'm going to open my eyes in a few seconds and wake up, WHAAAAT?!?!  My response to proposal shock was instant and hard tears.  Turns out that was my response for Baby Boy, too ;)  I cried the whole drive.  And kept saying "I'm shocked.  I'm just so shocked.  I feel dizzy.  And like this isn't really life.  I'm shocked.  There is NO WAY."

Then the shock turned into sadness.  Hear me out on this.  I was not (am not?) sad that we're having a boy, but rather, I was emotional that it wasn't a girl.  Literally decades of hope, imagination and instinct were proven wrong ;)  And it felt like I was missing someone.  The firstborn daughter I thought I not only had but who I also knew ("better than anyone else!") was "gone."  Yes, yes, I know she was never there.  But in my heart she was.

Caleb sees he's never seen me this emotional.  I had to go coach practice and was shaking when I arrived at the gym, trying to play it cool and not burst into tears in the middle of explaining 70-overload and breaking half-court traps.  Throughout practice I'd feel the little twists and spins of my baby inside. My mind kicked into auto-pilot "Hey girlie!  I love to feel you!"  Then I'd remember.  Right.  No.  Buddy!  Hey... little... guy.  I love to feel you, too!  Er, YOU.  Not "too."  Just you.  I love to feel you.

After practice we road over to Target to get the goods for our "sweet treat announcement."  I cried all through the aisles.  I little boy jumped out of the popcorn section and said "wa-la!"  Caleb laughed and whispered to me "We're going to have a little guy like that!" as we passed him.  I cried more.  Praise Jesus irrational crying is pretty much the most normal part of being pregnant.  It's just what happens when you feel anything, and it makes it very very hard to know what you feel.  "Are you sad?"  "I don't know!  I don't think so!"  Caleb was perfect and told me that it was totally alright to be disappointed, it didn't make me a bad mom or mean that I didn't love my son.  It just meant I was really taken off guard, so crying is normal.

After we told my family, my mom and I just sat there, dumbfounded.  The best way I can describe it would be if someone came up to me and handed me smooth, grey, brick-sized stone and told me "This is your pet puppy!"  I'd be like "Um, no.  It's not a puppy.  It's a... rock."  "No, no!  It's not a rock!  It's a dog!"  And then, all of a sudden, the rock starts wagging a tail and jumping around and licking my arms and it's somehow definitely a dog.  Even though - THAT GUY HANDED ME A ROCK?! HOW DID IT TURN INTO AN ANIMAL?!  It basically felt bizarre.  "No, it's not a boy.  It's a girl." "Well, actually, it is a boy." "No way." "Yes way." "Oh wow, I guess you're right.  It is a boy.  Wow.  How'd that happen?!" ;)

So now, almost 24 hours later, I've settled into the idea and reality of my son a little more.  When I feel baby doing his flip-turns, I think "Aw!  He's getting some morning exercise in!" I have looked at his sonogram pictures dozens and dozens of times.  His full lips, his rosy nose, his jaw just like daddy's.  His super long legs, like grandpa and Caleb.  His huge ribcage, just like me.  His perfect set of man-shoulders and boyish, lifted chest.  His big feet - and big self!  He's already measuring larger than his due date ;) He does look like a little boy.  Caleb even said so before we knew.  He looks like Caleb.

I read Numbers 13 and 14, with my boy in mind.  "Caleb quieted the people... 'The land, which we passed through is an exceedingly good land.  The LORD delights in us, and He will bring us into this land and give it to us!... do not fear the people of the land.  The Lord is with us; do not fear them.' ... Then the Lord said 'Caleb has a different spirit, and has followed me fully."  Known for his loyalty, devotion, his companionship.  For his incredible power of observation, for his fearlessness despite all odds, his whole-heartedness and sureness of God.

Oh crazy surprise boy, we did not "decide" to have you or make you.  God did, centuries ago.  He planned you, and then He made you.  And He made you you.  A boy.  A firstborn boy.  A stubborn boy ;)  Our boy.  I don't know much about you yet.  You're a flipper and spinner, not a kicker (I don't know what that means for real life, though.  I'm done with my instincts!).  You refuse to wake up if you're still sleepy.  Goodness, you had me laughing at the ultrasound.  There is no way you were actually staying asleep with all the poking and prodding.  At first you were making crying faces and had your mouth wide open "yelling."  But then you "flipped" into a ball, with your long legs STRAIGHT over your head so we couldn't "get in" and see you very well.  You held that position perfectly still for almost an hour, with the occasional good hard kick when the probe got too close to you.   We, obviously, think you are very cute and look kind of like a kitten in some of the 4D images.  The tech was pretty impressed too (and she TOTALLY is not impressed with all the other babies she sees), "Wow, you have a very cute one.  Such a cutie."  Psh.  Yeah.  That's my kid.  My son.

You'll be the big brother to the rest of our children.  When they think "family" they'll think of you.   Both dad and I are the oldest in our big families (your family!) and we can confirm: having little brothers and sisters is the best.  You'll get to know them before they know you.  You get to be the hero in their eyes, and the boss. (Muahha.)  You get to love on them, and see how much fun it is to bless the little guys.

pc: resolved to worship blog

Your Maryland uncles will teach you all about sports, and your Oklahoma uncles will teach you all about country life.  They know how to build airplanes on the farm! ;)  Dad (and I, but especially dad) can't wait to show you all the best places to set-up a fort, how to catch a fish and how many things you can make out of sticks.  We're even working on a house for you right now.  A real house.  But that story is for a different time.
Oh man, you're gonna do all sorts of things to make us smile and shake our heads and thank God you came into this world.  If you're affectionate like your ol' man, I wouldn't be surprised if you're a bit of a flirt.  Don't worry - we get it.  Kissing is a blast.

Ah!  This is so much fun!  I hope you come up with some crazy costumes.  And think you're Butch Cassidy or a snake or, like my brothers, an entire sports team all wrapped up in one-person (including referees and coaching staff.)

You're welcome to be as adventurous and curious as you want.  There's only one rule: you can't die.  Okay?  I already love you too much.  You have to wait until you're a fat old man.  (Also!  I'm a cool mom - I'll let you adventure barefooted.  I love being barefoot.)

Speaking of old men, we're going to teach you to be a gentleman.  "Gentle" and "man" are a fantastic pair of words to combine.   Your father is both of those.  Be like him, okay? Deal?!  You're already going to be the best old chap, I can tell. 

But before you can get to "old" you have to get through "young."  Goodness gracious, some little training-bra wearing, wide-eyed toots is going to have a crush on you.  I hope you're clueless for a while ;) but that you enjoy (and not waste) your "young."  I'll help you out with the whole outfit thing, dad has you covered on the how to treat a lady thing, but you're going to have to go elsewhere for dancing tips.  We're just no good. We've been talking about playing with our kids since the weekend we met.  We are just dying to play with you.  Dares and pranks and races and stories and the whole sha-bang. 

pc. resolved2worship blog

I have to admit, there is something about a happy little boy.  Nothing in the world quite like it.  We're going to do our best to give you lots to smile about, but I have a hunch you're going to be the one giving us reason to smile.

I have a lifetime of words to tell you.  I won't bore these poor blog readers here with it all.  But as I wrap up this post - this post I never thought I would be writing - you're doing some great somersaults in me.  Even the process of putting this post together has given me such a vision for being mama to a little boy, mama to you.  So now I'm crying unshocked, unsad, un-missing-"someone"-else tears.  I'm crying happy tears.  I'm so happy you're you and not who I thought you were.  I've never been more pleased to be more wrong.

You have five great-grandparents, four grandparents, 18 (including Joel in heaven) aunts and uncles, and two splendidly in love parents waiting for you.  Grow grow grow, and we await the day we formally welcome you to your family.

   
What a joy! What a joy!

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...

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. 

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 Very Sweet Thanksgiving Treat from The Morris Family

“do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; 
remember that what you now have was once 
among the things you only hoped for.” 
epicurious 



This year Caleb and I just... are especially grateful.  My mom's cancer number when from 54 to ZERO.  We are married.  Our wedding was thrilling and we have never felt so loved.  We both have great jobs that we love.  My family moved home.  We have a HUGE and beautiful apartment.  We are finding our way as our own little family.  We're coaching together with my dad.  We have incredible friends and family all over the country and world.  We eat well.   And we wanted to share our favorite Thanksgiving Treat this year... don't be turned-off by the ingredients.  I promise it's really really good ;)
-
Yup.  As this current school year comes to an end, and pools open and summer vacation starts, we're going to introduce a little person to its life and we are going to be its parents (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).  We are crazy-wicked-thrilled to know, have and love this new baby, gift and friend.  We need you, sweet child, and know that your life already has and will continue to change us forever.  We love to love you and can't stand this wait ;)  We're dying to look at your eyes, make fun of your noises and hold you while you laugh and cry.  Now I'm going to cry.  (Don't worry... I do that a lot now.  It's one of your many "special blessings" to my body ;) haha)








I've tried to imagine for decades what it will be like to be a wife and mama.  This year I'm especially grateful for being able to experience what was once "something I only hoped for."

Happy Thanksgiving!

Where We Live | Personal

"with these hands i'm gonna build our home

if we ain't got it,
i'll make it."
dave barnes - since you said i do

When Caleb first came to Maryland in May 2011, he was planning on staying for six weeks.  The whole story is coming up soon in the Oh My My My series, so I won't tell too much right now.  BUT!  My dad hired Caleb to finish his basement (remember my parents were in Florida?  And they had someone renting their Maryland house?  Did I ever say that?  Well.  That's the story.)  While the renters lived upstairs, Caleb and my brother completed the doooownstairs.

I'd swing by with hot lunch, or coke slurpees, or just a hug.  Those first few weeks of dating were simple and special (and emotional.  I'll tell more later.)  One particular day, Caleb had a deadline (the walls needed to be painted because the carpet guys were coming Monday morning.)  It's a big hunkin' basement, and he couldn't finish it.  I came over to help him.  We painted for hours and hours.  From sun-up to sun-down.  Lots of talking, and also lots of silence.  It was hard work, but fun to do it with him.

 And then... a year after he finished the project, we moved into the most perfect, big, beautiful, best-painted "apartment" we could have dreamed of (minus the blue-leaf carpet.  But we had no say in that.  And.  If that is the only thing we can complain about? Psh.  We have it durn'good.).  Before the wedding (aka: two weeks before the wedding) Caleb and his brother installed a kitchen (thank you, Dad!).  What was going to be a small wall of cabinets turned into a 15-piece, full-fledge, ENORMOUS first kitchen for us.   

I moved into our house before Caleb did.  But I wasn't there when "the move" happened.  You see, I was in Florida with my mom and some of the kids.  We drove all the cars back up from Florida.  My dad and the boys drove the moving trucks a few days ahead of us.  Before the girl-crew made it to Maryland, Caleb and Daniel moved my stuff out of Dre + Becca's house into the new house.  This all happened the 100-degree summer week where the power went out for days... and this trip was also the trip mom, Pam and I finished and mailed out the wedding invitations from a hotel.   The week after mom had chemo.  It was a full summer.  BUT!  Within hours of arriving home, the power was back on and Caleb started hanging frames in our living room.  

All in all, this apartment has become a crucial part of our story.  Caleb literally built it with his own two hands.  It was the way he not only supported himself (and his new little girlfriend) but also the way he was able to start a business in Maryland.   It's the home I've done seven or so years of living in.  It's the home that I had to prepare to rent all by myself, and wasn't sure if I'd ever live in again.  It's the home of so many firsts for Caleb and I.   First married birthdays, first shared bedroom, first dinner party, first (and second) round of stomach bugs/poison ivy/disease, first place for Kristen Morris to ever live.  First place Caleb Morris ever came home to his wife. 

I haven't posted much about this treasure chest of a home, but I was prompted by Kristin Partin on my instagram to show "mooooore pictures!"  Our home is filled with reminders of people:  from pictures, to custom art, to gifts from literally hundreds of friends who blessed us at our wedding and receptions, to real faces who hang out with us.  Consider this an open invitation to invite yourself over and be a part of our home.  We want more memories, more stories and more love... so come come.   Welcome to the Morris Home.

ps.  Caleb has some more "Before + Afters" on his construction page!  They're fun!

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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Oklahoma Wedding Reception | Mr. + Mrs. Morris

"they never understand why their princess falls
for some camouflage britches 

and a southern boy drawl."

trace adkins
Our wedding was all kinds of dreamy, joyful and dear to our beating Morris hearts.  The *only* thing that seemed a sad touch of strange was that, aside from family and his new Maryland friends, Caleb really didn't have his "own" guests at the wedding.  The sweet church ladies who talk about his piano skills every time they see him (while pinching his cheek, or placing their hand on his.)  The Laura Ingalls Wilder children.  The families who are in the photo albums and home videos.  The first employers.  The next-door neighbors.  Dozens of friendly faces and lives were absent at our wedding.  In some ways it felt like "my" wedding without all of those "Caleb-people" there.  

On Saturday we were the bride and groom, for the very last time.  And this time, it was all about Caleb.  His hostess-with-the-mostess, creative bumblebee of a mother threw a "Cinderella pumpkin patch/Flea Market/Western" event of a lifetime on the family farm, Caleb's childhood stomping grounds.  I wore his favorite gold hoops and wore my hair down (he doesn't like pins and clips and bands.  Kind of like how most guys don't like lipstick.  Only gets in the way ;).  I told him to wear whatever he wanted: a tie-less suit with sneakers it was!  

We spent 4:00 pm to nearly midnight eating Mrs. Morris' BBQ, talking in the sunset, dancing, hearing stories from "way back when," and savoring all the sweetness of farm life and country friends.  My parents flew in to be here with us - which was so special to me.  I loved watching everyone 'ooo' and 'awww' over my mom, and laugh and tease with my dad.  I was madly happy.  Caleb comes from a little taste of heaven, and I'm honored to now be a part of this world.  

Enjoy the incredible detail and love put into this day!



Tulip bulb favors!





My favorite piece of advice was from a 15-year-old girl: "Take Kristen shopping every day."  That's the secret to a happy marriage, right?!






























There were little babies to couples who had celebrated their 50th wedding.  Friends from literally right next store, to friends who drove 12 hours to be with us.  We love all you folks - but mostly the kids.  They're so dang funny!  But my favorite quote of the night was from a lady who remembered one of her first conversations with the Morris boys, about seven or eight years ago:  "Well, Caleb told me he wanted to marry a city girl.  And Daniel, Daniel insisted he wanted a country girl."  I love how different Caleb is from his family, and how he really did want everything that I am... even way back then ;)  In the meantime, Daniel is waiting for that "country girl."  Unless I somehow convince him that city girls make for better wives!

















These "Magic Cookie Bars" are famous.


Alright.  This man right here is Matt.  Matt is a good friend of the family, and he  was one of Caleb's first employers.  We love Matt (even though this was my first time meeting him) because he helped Caleb be the worker and skilled-tradesman he is today!  When Matt got married, Caleb and his brothers decided to pull a little prank on Matt.  As he was running to the getaway car, the boys dumped baked beans, honey and snow down Matt's pants.  Matt drove away and apparently had to try to clean up a little in 10 degree weather out by a barn.  Terrible.  Matt's wife walked right into the reception and said "Caleb Morris, there is a verse in the Bible that talks about 'an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'  Consider yourself warned!"
As the main part of the reception was winding down, Matt got his rightful revenge ;)  My only instructions were "Make sure his phone and wallet is not on him.  Please take his shoes off: they are brand new and he loves them with his whole heart.  And don't you dare ruin his $400 suit."  And with that, the fun began:



(Shoes coming off.  Thank you, guys!)

So happy... even when being attacked.





At this point, he still did not know what was going to happen to him...

... but then he say the water and started SCREAMING "NOOOO! NOOOOO!"  It was kind of heart-breaking!  But then I thought about honey-snow-freezing-beans pants on a wedding night, and I didn't feel too bad for Caleb ;)  The ice bath was frozen and ready:













When he got out he said he was so cold he couldn't even breathe.  His body went into a quick shock.  It's a good thing he's so healthy and that they DIDN'T CAUSE A HEART ATTACK! Heart Attack > Beans Pants.









We had a good laugh, made a chilly memory and learned a lesson... right, Honey Bunches of Oats? Riiiight?


Two of Caleb's siblings built this play house years ago.  It's one of my favorite things I've ever seen.






"The House That Built Me" is a song that can bring both Caleb and I to tears.  Partly because we have half a home built in Oklahoma, that we dream of living in with children someday.  Also in part because Caleb's home really is the house that built us.  I met him here (almost two years ago exactly!).  I discovered he liked me here.  I fell in love with him here.  He lights up when he tells stories about these 27 acres, and always-being-built home.  Now we've celebrated our marriage here.  

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom

Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitarAnd I bet you didn't know under that live oakMy favorite dog is buried in the yard

Plans were drawn, and concrete poured

Nail by nail, and board by board

Daddy gave life to mama's dreams

Out here it's like I'm someone else

To all the men, women, children, neighbors, and friends who built Caleb, thank you.  To Oklahoma, red dirt, big pastures, energetic small towns, and lots of barbeque, thank you.  To our future life, children, dreams and passions, thank you.  You've all built us, and we wouldn't be the same if it weren't for you.  God knew what he was doing when He made us a part of a small town outside of Guthrie, Oklahoma.

Happy "You" Reception, Cowboy.  I love every part of your life.  And I can't wait to spend our days loving it even more. Muah!

Enjoy People | Personal Thank You + Catch-Up

i'll be eighty-seven; you'll be eighty-nine

i'll still look at you like the stars that shine

taylor swift - mary's song  

My friends.  Thank you.  The six posts of "our story" come with the most supportive as well as scathing words from those reading along.  These Oh My My My posts are easily my most read and viewed posts this year (side from our phenomenal engagement story.)  Turns out y'all like Caleb too! Thank you for reading, thank you for saying something when you read, thank you for encouraging me on in writing.

It might seem silly, but this story is by far the hardest thing I've ever blogged.  It's hard because I couldn't possibly put in words what is in my heart.  It's hard because this is my life - I can feel vulnerable.  It's fairly easy to repeat to you a story I heard about someone else at an engagement shoot, but putting my life "out there" is an entirely different animal.  It's hard because it's Caleb's life.  It's hard because I regret decisions I made during this story.  It's hard because I can't even tell the whole story.  It's hard because you, the readers, will never understand how much God did in us and with us.  Though I am quite looking forward to telling you about our happiest and hardest and then happiest days together, you'll never know exactly what happened.  It's hard because some readers will only think of us as a cutesy-coo little couple and nothing deeper, while others will continue to make assumptions and despise us.  It's hard because I've been somewhat-secretly dreaming of writing a book someday.  Telling this story is a little bit of a trial run to see if my writing is as welcomed as my photography.  It's hard because I make lots of typos.  And each post takes me hours to write.  It's hard because when I push "publish" and let my heart and self out to be seen and scrutinized, I might be misunderstood.  It's hard because I am critical of my writing abilities. It's hard because, as Charlie Brown says,  "You not only can't explain love, actually, you can't even talk about it." I love him so.  I really do.

And truthfully, if the first few posts had had a "blah" response - maybe no one hated the story, but maybe it was "eh, whatever" - I don't think I would have kept blogging it. (I'd like to think I would have kept on writing just for myself and my man, though!) Please know, more than any other time in my entire career, your support and kindness (and occasional mean-ness!) has kept this writing going.  

I was looking for a reaction - good or bad! I don't think our story is boring, but if you all did?  Well, no body likes a boring story!  So thank you: please keep telling me what you think... and you really can be honest.  You don't have to like it!  But if you do, feel free steal or pin that above picture and link back to the Oh My My My series.  I absolutely love when I come across new love stories online - and if any of you are inspired to right yours out, please tell me!  The Enjoy Project is really a desire deep in me to share and connect with people. I want you to know the real me.  I want to know the real you's.  And the real you's have blessed and encouraged me tremendously.  Thank you!

,

In other news!  Life has been rich.  If you follow along on instagram, twitter or Facebook, you saw that I was able to be a little bridesmaiden last week!  I'm in awe of how different it is to be in a wedding rather than to shoot a wedding.  Congratulations Stephen and Abbie!

The wedding was near the Philadelphia area and Caleb had a job starting Monday in New York.  The plan was for me to drive back to Maryland on Sunday, and he'd depart at the same time for Syracuse.  But when the time came, I just couldn't leave him.  So I went with him!  The work was going to take at least 10 days and the little corn-cob was awfully sick.  I only had one pair of pajama's and a few skirts (rehearsal dinner options, of course) and a bridesmaids dress!  But it was pure bliss to scrape wallpaper and just be near my favorite person.  And be called "shmoopy" (from Seinfeld? Anyone?) by the rest of the crew ;)

I couldn't stay long though.  I left Wednesday morning to make it home in time for a bachelorette weekend starting Thursday!  The second wedding I'll be in this year is for my little Julie and her smart yet daffy James. The bridesmaids whisked Jules away for a weekend of eating, dressing-up, the boardwalk, dancing, movies, sleeping-in and mockery.  It was the best.

Now I'm home.  Mr. McMuffin gets home from New York today.  We might go to a baseball game.  We might die from happiness.  We might do both.  Oh my my my.

;)

Enjoy Project | Engaged

"Every atom of his flesh is as dear to me as my own: 
in pain and sickness it would still be dear. 
His mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, 
it would be my treasure still."
bronte

ps. lydia jane

"I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head,

and everything he touches and every word he says.

I love all his looks and all his actions 

and him entirely and all together."

bronte

I'm going to be his wife!

Enjoy People from Oklahoma | Meeting Niagara Falls

"It was one of those smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it,

that you may come across four or five times in a life.

It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then

concentrated on you 

with an irresistible prejudice in your favour.

It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood,

believed in you just as you would like to believe in yourself,

and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best,

you hoped to convey."

f. scott fitzgerald

My Oklahoma boi-fraaaan has spent the majority of his 24 years in the states of Oklahoma, Texas and Arkansas.  Thanks to family road-trips and school conventions he made it to surrounding midwest states: Kentucky, Tennessee, Colorado and the like.  Basically, he's been everywhere I haven't.  Because, I, on the other hand, have spent the most of my 22 years in a giant U of North America: New York, Philadelphia, Washington DC, The Carolina's, Florida, Georgia, Mexico, Arizona, San Diego and LA, Nevada, Monterey and Northern California, Washington and Seattle, and finally up to Vancouver.   (Not to mention the various European and island jaunts to Panama, Aruba, The Grand Cayman Islands, Costa Rica, Jamaica, London and other English cities, Northern Ireland, Ireland and Scotland.)

When MisterMister moved to the east coast in his Amazing Race to win a particularly confusing girl, he was instantly smitten with the new surroundings.  Flat land, dirt roads, short trees, long straight drives and eternal skylines are what he's used to.  He loves the winding roads, the super tall trees, the mix of mountain/river/city/country/suburb the DC area boasts.  He loves the history and the tall trees.  I think his favorite part of Maryland is the tall trees (well, and all the traffic lights. Boy oh boy does he love himself a good long traffic light! Or two! Or three! ;)

Sometime in the summer he had a work project up near Niagara Falls.  Though my dad is from upstate New York and I've been to that state dozens of times, I'd never seen The Falls! Tragic! We decided to channel our inner Jim and Pam and make an experience out of it.  I flew up to Buffalo after his work week, and he whisked me away to America's most famous falling water.  

If you though he had a thing for tall trees, you should have seen his demeanor around tall water! Class act.I'm about half the size of those rocks down in the corner:Happy, blink-y, scruffy, plastic, misty fun.This weekend together changed something in us.  It was our first week apart since dating, we wore ponchos, we picked flowers, we sang to the Tarzan soundtrack, we drove home together in a truck for 16 hours, we concentrated on each other, we celebrated a monthiversary, we enjoyed wonders, we sat on thorns, we ate snow cones, we sparkled, we talked, we people-watched, we created new inside jokes, we sat next to each other in the bench seat of his pick-up, we were silent, we slipped on wet rocks, we didn't drink margaritas, we laughed, we made up scenarios "if you fell into the rive right here, what would you do?" (my plan was always to find the nearest rock or log, his was always to swim to shore), we opened presents, we changed.  

I'll end with the same quote I started this post with:

"It was one of those smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it,

that you may come across four or five times in a life.

It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then

concentrated on you 

with an irresistible prejudice in your favour.

It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood,

believed in you just as you would like to believe in yourself,

and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best,

you hoped to convey."

f. scott fitzgerald