What I Learned

So, Lent is over and I'm kind of back to social media. I've been thinking a lot about what I learned during my fast, I think Brother Brueggemann describes it best in his prayer Ourselves at the Center. His words best describe where my heart was when I started this fast and how I changed along the way. Without further ado, the prayer:


Ourselves at the Center
(Walter Bruggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People)

We are your people,
mostly privileged
competent
entitled.

Your people who make futures for ourselves,
seize opportunities,
get the job done
and move on.

In our self-confidence, we expect little
beyond our productivity;
we wait little for
that which lies beyond us,
and then settle with ourselves
at the center.

And you, you in the midst of our privilege,
our competence
our entitlement.

You utter large deep oaths
beyond our imagined futures.
You say – fear not, I am with you.
You say – nothing shall separate us.
You say – something of new heaven and new earth.
You say – you are mine; I have called you by name.
You say – my faithfulness will show concretely and will abide.

And we find our privilege eroded by your purpose,
our competence shaken by your future,
our entitlement unsettled by your other children.

Give us grace to hear your promises.
Give us freedom to trust your promises.
Give us patience to wait and
humility to yield our dreamed future
to your large purpose.

We pray in the name of Jesus who
is your deep yes over our lives.

Almost There

It's almost Palm Sunday, almost Holy Week, and almost Easter. Which means in a little over a week, Lent will draw to an end. When I gave up social media for Lent, I knew it would draw comments from people that it's not that big of a deal. On the surface, it's kind of a shallow thing to give up for Lent.

But here's the thing. It really is a big deal. Think about it. Think about why you use social media. Not on the surface, like keeping up with family or friends. But emotionally, what's your tie? I never really saw myself as someone needing affirmation. I've always felt pretty sure of myself, I never thought I needed someone to validate that I exist. But then I decided to spend 40 days cut off from on-line friends. Which may not seem like a big deal, but I'm by myself at least 15 days out of the month with Jeremy's work schedule. You try spending time alone, with no outlet to distract you from yourself. It's not fun. It's very lonely. And you'd think that perhaps during this time of loneliness that I would pray, or read my Bible, or just read. Instead, I think I've watched approximately 100 episodes of Supernatural. But you know, at least I've recognized that it is lonely being alone.

On the flip side of the loneliness, I did discover that while I miss the interaction with folks, that also I don't miss it.  When I first started using Twitter (seven years ago, when it was just a baby), I was in a really rough marriage. The folks on Twitter became my friends, my sounding boards, the place where I went when I needed to escape. Now that I am incredibly happily married, I don't really need it anymore (except of course when I actually do need it). I made actual friends on Twitter. People that I know in real life, and people that I actually spend time with. It's nice being affirmed but it's also nice being known by people. I've done a pretty good job of keeping in touch with my friends whilst being away from social media, but also, I've also seemed to turn into more a hermit, which really exacerbates the whole loneliness part.

So basically, in the past almost forty days I've felt all the emotions. I'd say that I'm really ready for this to be over, but I don't know that I've done enough work for it to be over. This next week, during Holy Week, I intend to stop all my tv watching and do some real work. I'm sure there's much more to learn from this time.

Comeback Tour

My official Running Comeback Tour commenced this past Saturday. I got up before the sun to drive to Candler Park to get a parking spot, meet up with my best friend, and run the Atlanta Women's 5K. It was the first race that I've run since breaking my foot in September.

Oh yeah, did I mention breaking my foot. I did. The third metatarsal. All the way through. A bunch of weird stuff worked together to make that bone break. My knee was injured (which I knew and also didn't know) which made me use the wrong part of my leg, which made my ankle lock, which put so much pressure on my foot that the bone just snapped. And? It actually broke while I was on a nine mile run. It started hurting around mile 5, but I thought it was just a cramp so I just stopped, took off my shoe, stretched, and then kept going. I finished that nine miles. Then I went to the High Museum. Then I went shopping with my mom at the mall. Then I didn't walk the next day. But, I'm all healed now. I started PT back in December and then started my "back to running" training in January.

I finished the Atlanta Women's 5K in just 30:55, which is just twenty seconds off my best time on that course. So, that was pretty exciting. And I got to run with a friend of mine who was running her very first every 5K (she did great, finished in just over 34 minutes, and 16th in her age group). And of course my best friend was there too. She and I ran the first mile together, then she told me to take off. It was so great being back to racing. I'm not incredibly competitive (slash not competitive at all) but I love being with runners during a race. The atmosphere of a race just gets my blood pumping fast. I even ran two of the miles under 10 minutes, which was huge because I hadn't run that fast since before I broke my foot.

So, this was a big milestone in my healing from the break. Thank goodness for good doctors. And for the patience to actually follow the training schedule my doctor gave me. Next goal: sub-30 minute 5K (I'm looking at you Big Peach 5K!).

Gratuitous post race photo:

Jesus Feminist

Remember how much I proclaim Sarah Bessey's Jesus Feminist as the best book there has ever been? Well, today, you can get the Kindle version for just $1.99 from Amazon! Go on over and get it. You really have no excuse. That's cheaper than a medium coffee at Starbucks!

Here's the link: Jesus Feminist

This book made me feel like Jesus loves me more than anything I've ever read (other than the Bible of course). The words were so incredibly freeing. I keep my paper copy beside the couch at all times just so I can pick it up and read it every time I sit down. I'm going to wear out my paper copy, so of course I went ahead and got the Kindle version too.

So go grab a copy, even if you're a man. This book will fill your heart with joy.

Dreary Monday Happiness

This past weekend was incredibly busy and I'm pretty sure that Saturday was really two days long because it certainly felt that way. I read one of Ann Voskamp's blog posts while drying my hair this weekend and she talked about how she has a journal for counting her gifts (that's not what the blog post is about exactly, but go ahead and click through because it's an amazing post as per her usual). Social media became such a place for me to complain about pretty much everything. Not having that outlet to complain has actually made me feel slightly less complain-y and a lot happier. So, in the spirit of Ann, here's just a little bit of the gifts for which I'm thankful this dreary, cold Monday:

• An 11:30 minute mile pace on my run this Saturday. Coming off an injury is super slow going, and that's almost 45 seconds faster than my usual. Mainly because my dear friend BBQ came to run with me and she's faster than me, but she slowed down to run with me and keep me motivated. She's pretty awesome and I'm so glad I met her. And BBQ are her actual initials which makes me love her even more. 
• Seeing land that had been a total thorn in my friend B's side cleared for the first time thanks to our little band of misfits in Crop Mob. 
• Fresh greens with pickled vegetables dressed with mustard vinaigrette and a pimento cheese sandwich after working all morning to clear brush and invasive tress (which do NOT come up with out a fight).
• A friend who rode all the way to Chattanooga and back in one day to go hear a band in concert that he didn't even know all because he knew I wanted to go and Jeremy had to work and I certainly couldn't drive all that way and back alone.
• Planning meetings for our Advent service. Yes, Advent, during Lent. It takes a long time to plan large events. 
• Long naps on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
• Meeting a new person who was excited to meet me. I attended an anniversary celebration for The Homestead Atlanta. I walked up to a woman there and introduced myself as Amy. She said "OH, are you Amy Lastname?!!" I said, indeed that's me. She then proceeded to exclaim, "oh, I've been wanting to meet you forever. People always ask me if I know you and I always have to say no, but not any more, give me a hug!"
• The look on one of my favorite chef's face when I told him that they should have weenie gravy on their brunch menu. I'm pretty sure it almost killed him. (Weenie gravy recipe: chop up a pack of hot dogs into medallions, fry them up, remove from the grease and then use said grease to make the gravy...yummy deliciousness) (Weenie gravy is one of my ultimate comfort foods and one of the favorite breakfast foods that my dad makes.)
• The fact that Jeremy had the chance to go see a fancy pants airplane museum before it became a private attraction rather than a public one. He even got to meet the owner of all the airplanes and it seemed to make him incredibly happy, which made me incredibly happy.

How about you? What are you happy about today?

Seven Days

I'm now officially on my seventh day of no social media. And you know what? It's not really all that bad. I've stayed in touch with my friends from social media the old-fashioned way (texts and emails) and it's not near as isolating as I had previously imagined. Also, I've found plenty of ways to fill my time this past week.

First, I got food poisoning last Thursday. Not being able to eat or drink made me have a migraine, which made me sicker, which made me super dehydrated, which landed me in the ER. And the kicker? I didn't even lose any darn weight!

One day during my convalescence, I did read an entire book. It was a YA book so it's not like I read War and Peace all in one day. I read The Fault in Our Stars. People have written amazing reviews of this book, so I'm not even going to try. Instead, I will share with you some of my most favorite lines from the book.

• Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. (This is me 100% with Sarah Bessey's Jesus Feminist. If you're a friend of mine, I have probably told you to read this book right away, do not delay, read it.)
• As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. (This line was especially special to me because when Jeremy and I first started dating, he would read to me rather frequently. There's just something about a man who will read aloud to you.)
• I had a moral opposition to eating before dawn on the grounds that I was not a nineteenth-century Russian peasant fortifying myself for a day in the fields. (I just thought this was funny, this book was incredibly intense, the comedic relief was nice.)
• You have a choice in this world, I believe, about how to tell sad stories, and we made the funny choice. 

So, read The Fault in Our Stars if you haven't. It's a fast read, I think maybe it took me four hours, tops. I did cry for the entire last hour of reading it though, so be warned. And when I say cry, I mean a couple of times I had to put the book down to sob into a dish towel. 

Oh, and yesterday, my newest niece was born! She's a hefty little lady and we're all pretty happy about her, or "it", as my nephew continued to refer to her. 

Please to feast your eyes upon her her chubbiness:

(Confession: I don't really miss any social media except for Pinterest. And have mercy do I miss Pinterest. How did we live before we had a platform that is the equivalent of looking at a thousand magazines all at one time!?!)

Note: If you'd like to comment, please do so here and not on Facebook. I'm not checking Facebook until Easter so I won't see your comment for a long time.

Schooled by a Four Year Old

"What I love about the ministry of Jesus is that he identified the poor as blessed and the rich as needy... and then he went and ministered to them both. This, I think, is the difference between charity and justice. Justice means moving beyond the dichotomy between those who need and those who supply and confronting the frightening and beautiful reality that we desperately need one another." - Rachel Held Evans

Every single Sunday, I and the family that I sit with at church are given presents by a homeless gentleman who attends our church. I'll call him Todd for the sake of this story. Without fail, he has a gift for us every. single. week. Sometimes it's clothes. A lot of times it's food. One time it was a tv. I sometimes keep the presents that I receive, but mostly I put them in the donation pile for when I take things to Goodwill. I don't need the presents he gives me, but that's never stopped him. I'm a giver of gifts and receiving gifts (even from family) makes me really uncomfortable. It embarrasses me to get gifts from a homeless person. They are usually dirty. They smell funny. It feels weird to be handed presents in crumpled up bags when I walk into church every single week. 

This past Sunday, MM, the daughter of my friends, looked at me and said "where is your cousin?" I, of course, have never brought any of my cousins to church, so I was confused. I told her I didn't know who she was talking about. Exasperated, she said "Todd...your cousin...where is he?" She hadn't seen him in the back of the church and was concerned as to where he was. And apparently, she thinks he is my cousin. I pointed him out to her and after we took communion she ran to the back of the church and gave him a hug.

And I've been thinking about that interaction since Sunday morning. MM gets gifts from Todd every Sunday too. And she receives them with joy. She actively looks forward to the presents that he brings. She doesn't need any of the gifts that he brings her, and most of them aren't age appropriate for a four year old. But she gets excited. And her excitement of receiving the gifts ministers to Todd. He has nothing and yet he goes out of his way to give us things. I've been schooled in humility by a four year old. She identified Todd as family...my family. And I'm embarrassed by him.

That same Sunday, an elderly lady in front of me, turned to suggest that I join the choir since I sing so well (I cannot confirm that I sing well, I thought my singing was awful). When she turned back around, MM wanted to know her name. When I told her, she asked, "is she your sister?" I told the lady that MM wanted to know if we were sisters. She got quite the kick out of that and responded, "well, I guess we are sisters in Christ." And isn't that true? We are all family. And we all need each other. And I need to climb down off my high horse. I'm not so wealthy that I can't also receive gifts, even from a homeless person, with joy.

The Next Forty-Six Days

Oh hey look, I actually came back to my blog. Last year when I ran the Peachtree, I injured myself. I was in a walking cast for a month and a half. Then once I started running again, I broke a bone in my foot, not a stress fracture, a complete, all the way through, break. I was in a walking cast again for three months. Plus, I had to take osteoporosis medicine for four months. And I've been in physical therapy since December. Basically, I spent the last quarter of 2013 in a funk and didn't even want to be in this space. But now I'm back at it.  Because hey, it's Lent!

I grew up Southern Baptist and didn't actually start observing Lent until joining the Methodist church. I love celebrating the holidays of the church and love the order that it brings to my life. I try to always give up something meaningful for Lent. This year, I'm giving up social media.

Gasp right? I mean I'm the Queen of Twitter (as per my husband). One of my friends even asked if Jeremy was taking bets on how quickly I'll fail. I love social media. As an introvert, it's really been one of the best things since sliced bread for me. I get to make friends on-line and then when I meet them in person, it's like we're old friends and it takes away all the trepidation of meeting new people. When I told our children's minister that I was giving up social media, she remarked that I was the only person that she knew who actually used social media to create community instead of just to observe community. So, yes, it's going to be hard.

So, why, if I love social media so much, am I giving it up for Lent? Well, that's the reason. I love it so much. It consumes an incredible amount of my time. It has basically turned into a stronghold in my life and what better time to break that stronghold than during Lent. When I wake up in the morning, I check Facebook and Twitter before I even get out of the bed. When I take breaks during the day, I check Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest. When I get home from work, I spend the entire evening checking all three social media platforms over and over until I go to bed. I don't read my Bible or pray, I just piddle around on social media.

There's plenty to do in these next forty-six* days. I'm teaching a Lenten Sunday School class and working my way through Chris Seay's A Place at the Table. There is a stack of books taller than myself that I need to read. Our closets and the basement need to be organized and tons of things need to be donated to Goodwill. Our garden will need to be planted in April. Oh, and there are STILL Christmas presents that I need to finish.

So yes, lots is happening during those 46 days. I will be documenting a lot of it here. If you want to comment, please do so on the blog. I won't be checking Facebook or Twitter even though I have the blog set up to automatically post to FB and Twitter when I update it. If you have my phone number, please call me or text. If you have my email, by all means, send me an email. But even more importantly, if you live near me, let's see each other. Keep me accountable. I have ten books on my list to read in 46 days. Make sure I read them!

*Lent technically is forty days as the Sunday's during Lent are Feast Days; however, I won't be participating in the Feast days.

Helping Others Helps You - UPDATED

Do you know what is awesome? Helping abused kids get the therapy they need. Do you know what's even more awesome? Winning a prize for helping kids who need help!!

After seeing several bloggers I read have raffles as an enticement for the charities for which they were raising money, I thought "hmm, I know some local businesses that might help me raise money for Murphy-Harpst, I know that so many people care about children, and it is a home for severely and abused children, surely folks would want to help." And I thought right!!

I reached out to some awesome local businesses and now I have FOUR prizes that four of you could win!

First, do you like amazing coffee and cupcakes that will make you sing praises? Then do I have the deal for you! Batdorf & Bronson Coffee Roasters has donated a pound of coffee plus one of their amazing mugs. And Sweet n' Sinful Bakery has donated a half-dozen cupcakes to enjoy with your coffee. I won't even judge you if you eat the entire six cupcakes all by yourself. I could easily eat all six without even getting up! 

Second, do you like burgers? Do you like burgers even more when you know that the cows were fed only grass and raised in humane conditions? Then you'll love that Farm Burger has donated a $50 gift card for one lucky participant! Farm Burger has locations in Decatur, Buckhead, Dunwoody and now in Asheville, NC (my most favorite city in the southeast!). 

Third, do you remember me talking about the amazing food that we had at our wedding? Well, you can go eat some of Chef Terry's vittles too! Wrecking Bar Brewpub has donated a $45 gift card for another lucky participant. 

And last but not least, do you love bacon? Wait, why am I even asking that question, everyone loves bacon! Pine Street Market has donated a year. of. bacon (one pound each month for a year). And, in the event that anyone asks why you're smiling all the time, they are providing Pine Street Market t-shirt so that you can just point at the t-shirt because obviously you won't be able to talk because you're mouth will be full of delicious bacon!.

**UPDATED**
Today, I had to visit my chiropractor aka the best doctor in the whole world (and I've seen a lot of doctors, so I would know). I was telling him about my raffle and he said that he would participate too! So, Active Life and Health Center is donating an hour massage and an acupuncture session. 

How do you get in the running for one of these cool prizes? I'm so glad you asked! Just go here: http://www.crowdrise.com/Murphy-Harpst and donate. For every $5 donated your name will go in the hat. On July 1, I'll pull four names from said hat. Donate now so that you don't miss out on one of these amazing prizes!!

Book Giveaway!

When I put together my fundraising site for Murphy-Harpst, I reached out to Karen Spears Zacharias on Twitter to ask if she would please share the link. Well, being the awesome person that she is, she said that not only would she share it, but that she would send me an autographed book to raffle off as part of my fundraiser. So, the first person to donate $100 to Murphy-Harpst Children's Home, will receive a signed copy of her book A Silence of Mockingbirds.

Please give! There are children who need your help! Click here to go to the donation page!

Running for the Forgotten Among Us

Yesterday the running community took a giant blow to the gut. I was not in Boston, and I can't really speak on the pain that those associated with this tragedy are experiencing. But I do know that I will keep running, every single week, just like I always have, because I possess the same spirit that all my fellow runners possess...a spirit that is not afraid.

This year, I am running the Peachtree Road Race for the third time. The first year I ran the race, I was right in the middle of my divorce and I needed something to focus on that would keep me sane. Running was that something for me. Last year, Jeremy and I both ran the Peachtree, but I was near the middle and he was near the end. This year, we worked really hard and pushed ourselves in a qualifying race so that we could start together. We're pretty darn excited about it. However, this year, I'm not just running with someone, I'm running for someone (or something, since it is a not-for-profit). This year, I am running for the Murphy-Harpst Children's Home.  Murphy-Harpst is a children's home in Georgia that seeks to provide a safe and nurturing environment where severely abused and neglected children can thrive and heal. Severely abused and neglected children. Can you even wrap your head around that? Here are some statistics from Child Help:

• A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
• *More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
• Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4. 
• It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as such on death certificates. 
• More than 90% of juvenile sexual abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way. 
• Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all religions and at all levels of education.
• About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing the horrible cycle of abuse. 
• About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one psychological disorder. 
• The estimated annual cost of child abuse and neglect in the United States for 2008 is $124 billion. 

Five children die every day from child abuse. Every. single. day. Murphy-Harpst is working to stop that. When I approached their giving department to make sure that I wasn't stepping on anyone's toes by making Murphy-Harpst my fundraiser, this is the reply I got from their VP of Development: Thank you for caring about children whom the rest of the world has not only abused, but often forgotten.  Our prayers will be with you.

Let's make this happen y'all. I've made my fundraising goal $5,000. I know it's lofty, but why aim low when there are so many children who can be helped. If you can help, please check out my fundraising page at http://www.crowdrise.com/Murphy-Harpst.

Thank you in advance. You are all beautiful people!

Feeling Feelings

Saturday night as I was driving home, Jason Isbell's song Dress Blues came on my ipod. I heard this song for the first time in 2007 when Jason first started touring on his own after leaving the Drive-By Truckers. It's a song about a friend of his who was a Marine, went overseas, and didn't come back. That first time I heard it I stood in the middle of the 40 Watt in Athens, GA, and sobbed. I've cried every time I've heard the song since then. I even skip it sometimes because I don't want to go into work/the gym/etc with a tear stained face. Every time I listen to it, I think, "surely this time I'll make it through without crying." And every time I don't. This past Saturday, my aunt and uncle celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary a couple of months early, because my uncle isn't expected to live to see the actual date. And as I was driving home, listening to the song, I thought, "you know, I never want to be the kind of person who doesn't cry listening to this song." I don't want to be the kind of person who can hear about someone dying and not cry just a little. I never want my heart to be so hard that I don't feel things deeply. Life is short. Tell someone you love them. Spend a little extra time talking to your parents or your best friend or some stranger. Live life full of feelings. It's the only way to live.

In a Fever

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout." - Johnny Cash

Yep, we sang that song the entire time on our honeymoon...but technically only that line as neither of us really knew the rest of the song by heart. If you've been following along, you probably know we were engaged on September 19. And then we got married on December 1. And yes, I did plan a wedding in two months. Which is really kind of a short time period for planning a wedding, but we were trying to keep the stress to a minimum (hahahahahahasob). So, two months to plan a wedding may seem like a very short amount of time, but it was the perfect amount of time for us. By not having a lot of wiggle room, there's no time for hemming and hawing. You make a decision and it stays made because there's just no time left to do anything else.

Thankfully, I had some really amazing people in my life helping me plan. I work in a very small office with mostly women my age, so they were all to willing to help me. Two of them even went with me to try on wedding dresses and even helped pick out the dress that I wore for the wedding. The dress was easily the easiest part of the entire wedding planning. Thankfully one of the few J. Crew shops that have wedding dresses on site just happens to be in Atlanta, so I was able to try on dresses there. And yes, I wore a grey dress. Several people have asked, why grey. For one, I didn't want to do the whole "white dress" thing again. It obviously didn't work out so well for me the first time. And, honestly, this might be the most important part, but the grey one was about $600 less than the white one in the same version. I think it worked out pretty well to be honest:

Wedding Bells

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.” ― Robert Fulghum

On the walking tour of the inn property

A year ago today, I would have never thought I would be planning a wedding. I was still so shell shocked from the divorce that even the thought of being married again was terrifying. But here I am, planning a wedding. I am marrying my best friend. In two months no less. I mean, shoot, we are going to get married anyway, why wait until next year sometime. Plus, 12/1/2012 just has such a great ring to it.

So, by this point, pretty much everyone knows we're getting married thanks to the wonderfulness that is social media. Jeremy wrote a beautiful post about our relationship that you should go read as well. But, I get to tell the story of the proposal. It's a sweet story, because Jeremy is the sweetest. I would like to preface the story by saying that I had informed Jeremy that when he proposed that it needed to be very romantic. I read a lot. I have high expectations. Also, I tend to micro-manage. I try to not do it, but alas, I frequently fail.

Back in the spring I purchased a Google offer for a bed-and-breakfast just outside of Charlottesville, VA. Due to work being crazy with the audit (I'm the finance director), we weren't able to use the coupon until a couple of weeks ago. We got up early on a Wednesday and flew to Richmond. Yes, it was almost two hours away from Charlottesville, but when you're flying stand-by, you take what you can get. After finally getting to the inn after a long day on the road, we pretty much crashed for a couple of hours. After we finally had enough energy to move, we took a tour of the property. The inn was pretty spectacular. There were chickens there, so we felt right at home. We took a hike through the woods,  sat for a while with the resident cats, and then decided to head into town for dinner. 

As the aforementioned micro-manager, I had prepared a list of approved restaurants for the trip. I do not enjoy eating at chain restaurants and I try to frequent restaurants that purchase their meats and produce from local farms. I'm a food snob. I can't help it. We headed to the first restaurant on the list...The Whiskey Jar. To say that it was the best food we've had in a long time would be an understatement. We had oysters wrapped in Virginia ham and covered with Gruyere for the appetizer. Then we shared the fried chicken and collard greens plate and the sweet potato dumplings plate. We also split a bottle of the best hard cider I've ever tasted.  After the amazing dinner, we headed down the road for some ice cream before making the trek back to the inn. 

Once we got back to the inn, we decided we would sit out under the stars for a while. The benches were all wet from the dew so we had to find an alternative to the bench. Jeremy found a log on the wood pile that was long enough for both of us and placed it on the bench. We used my stargazing app on my cell phone to find constellations  We couldn't really see them though because when you're in the country away from the city lights, there are millions upon millions of stars. We quickly gave up and decided to just talk and kiss and hold hands. We talked about how much we loved each other. We talked about how we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives. Finally, Jeremy asked, "are you sure you want to be with me the rest of your life?". I answered that of course I did. He stood up and said "well, let's do this right then." He got down on one knee and asked me to "put this ring on your finger". And of course I did. I teared up a little and we had the sweetest kiss with him still on one knee. It was perfect.

Later back in the hotel room, I asked him if he had been nervous. He said that he knew I would say yes, but he was a little worried that it wouldn't be romantic enough. But being proposed to underneath the stars on a farm, yeah, that's pretty much perfection in my books.

Since we were on vacation, we decided we would wait about telling anyone because we knew we'd be overrun with Facebook posts, texts, phone calls, and emails once the cat was out of the bag. It was so lovely just being able to revel in the fact that we were going to get married. We spent two more glorious days together before we called "the mamas". I think my mama was prepared for it seeing as how Jeremy had asked my daddy if he could marry me. Jeremy's mama was over the moon. And his daddy was too, to tell the truth. 

So we're pretty excited. Jeremy would be happy to just go down to the courthouse tomorrow and get married. And I understand his urgency. I'm so excited to be married to someone who has filled me with so much love, someone who has already been there for me through ups and downs, someone who shares my values and my upbringing, someone who listens to everything that I say and even remembers most of it, someone who I want to stand beside until my last day. I love him. He is already my better half. I can't wait to make it official.

The boy boo, right after we called the mamas.

Growing on the Farm

Yes, I live on a half-acre. Yes, I live in the middle of Atlanta. And yes, I've decided to call my little plot of land a farm. I mean, shoot, I have chickens in the back yard and a garden in the front yard. I think that makes it a farm. And seeing as how I grew up on a farm, I think I have the authority to declare it so.

I already knew from some of my experiences with Crop Mob that the farming community is amazing. But until I started raising chickens and growing a garden, I don't think I knew the breadth and depth of the care and the helpfulness of the farming community. When I've had questions, like "why is nothing in my garden growing?" I had several farmer friends (and my parents) pipe up that perhaps I am watering the garden too much. Apparently, watering your garden every single day, and at night, is wrong. When I needed help trying to set up my front yard garden, I had a farmer friend go with me to the nursery to get plants and then come back to the house with me and help me plant them. When I've had questions about why my chickens feathers are falling out or why their combs are looking all dry, a farmer friend gave me great tips about how to help the hens. When my tomato plants starting looking droopy and like they were dying, not only did my farmer friend tell me how to fix them, but she gave me the necessary tool to fix them (kelp meal, if you're wondering).

The really cool thing is how much more I have to talk to my parents about now that I am farming. They've been doing this for years and years, and I think they are surprised at my enthusiasm. I think they are exasperated by my constant nagging that they should be growing their garden organically, but they just put up with my hippie ways. I mean, they raised me, so technically it's their fault. But there really is nothing quite like calling Daddy in the morning on my way in to work and talking about my garden. I think he's rather proud that I've decided to do something that he loves. I go home and help my parents in their garden every chance I get. Their garden encompasses several acres and they do most all of the work by hand, so they need all the help they can get. Although, I frequently wonder if it's really necessary to plant an entire acres of just potatoes. But, in the words of Daddy, "farmers feed America." And my parents may not be feeding all of America, but they are feeding my grandmother and other widow women in the community. As my Daddy always says, "if you plant enough to share, you'll always have enough." And goodness me do they have enough. My mother has four deep freezers full to the brim of food that she has put away from the garden.

Oh and one of the really exciting parts about growing a garden in your front yard...people will stop and ask you what you're growing. And then you get to tell them about your garden. One day last week my neighbors' five-year-old daughter walked over to see what I was growing. I got to show her what each plant looked like and was able to talk to her about what would grow from each of them. Then she got to pet a chicken, which was pretty much the highlight of her day. It was pretty awesome to experience a child's first time to pet a chicken. Which sounds pretty lame, and it probably is. But this is the life I've been wanting to live. And I'm loving it.

Front yard garden, freshly planted

Side yard garden, after I stopped watering it to death

My parents' garden

You can take the girl out of the country...and apparently the country out of the girl as well.

Last week Jeremy and I went on vacation to Seattle. It was beautiful and wonderful and we walked over thirty miles in total. And I learned something about myself. I have turned into a city girl!

The first part of our trip, we stayed at a beach house owned by Jeremy's old roommate's family. It was secluded and peaceful and basically in the middle of nowhere. The closest grocery store was about a twenty minute drive, as were the closest restaurants. We were a thirty minute ferry ride plus a fifty minute drive from Seattle. We were not anywhere near the city.

Now don't get me wrong, it was a fantastic place to stay. Jeremy and I spent our days walking on the beach and reading on the patio. We didn't even turn on a television for five whole days. We were able to unwind and relax. I even had my first s'more (and probably my last one as I feel like we ate our weight in s'mores). The views were incredible. We saw a bald eagle. We had the Olympic Mountains as a backdrop for our sunsets. I mean just look at what we woke up to every day...

But after living in Atlanta for almost seven years, I have become accustomed to everything being right at my doorstep. I can walk to three different grocery stores from my house. Now granted, it's about a thirty minute walk, uphill, but still, basically walking distance. There are probably around one hundred restaurants within a ten minute drive from my house. And after three days of being in the country, I longed for the city. I longed for the hustle and bustle. I longed to be able to walk to a restaurant. I longed for the diversity of the city. I longed for stores and coffee shops. I longed to be out of the car.

And boy howdy, did I get my wish. After our three days in seclusion, we headed back into the city. We walked from the hotel to the marina. We watched boat planes take off from and land in the water. We saw the Space Needle. We walked nine miles (round trip) to eat Mexican food. And quite honestly, it wasn't even the best Mexican food we'd ever had, even after we walked for hours to get there. We walked from one hotel to another, which wound up being a five mile trip. We walked to thrift shops. We walked to antique stores. We walked to book shops. We walked to several more restaurants. We walked to and during the Underground Seattle tour. We walked to the train station to hop on the train to subsequently run to the gate at the airport to come home. In three days, we submersed ourselves in the sights and sounds of the city. And it was wonderful..

 

The interesting thing is, I will frequently find myself lamenting how much I dislike living in Atlanta. I don't like the traffic or the great crowd of people. But I guess I just needed to get away from my normal life just for a couple of days to find out that actually, I do love the city even despite all of my aggravations with it. I grew up in the country, right smack dab in the middle of rural Alabama. I spent my entire childhood in the middle of nowhere. But I found myself in the city. And I like who I've become. City girl and all.

Keep on the Sunny Side

In the past ten years, I've lost a number of people to cancer or have had friends lose family to cancer. I've had friends diagnosed with and beat cancer. I have friends who are still struggling from the effects that cancer has wrought. Shoot, I found out just this last week that a friend is undergoing chemo. Everyone and their mother knows that cancer sucks. It takes away dreams. It takes away family. It does nothing by weave a path of destruction. However, anytime I hear someone talking about cancer I always think about my Uncle Richard.

Richard is Daddy's youngest brother. He was still in elementary school when his dad (my granddaddy) died from cancer (he was 45, if you're wondering). When I was born, Richard was probably about fifteen or sixteen. I remember we all even called him Baby Richard. He was the baby after all. And he was awfully spoiled. Everyone in the family pretty much took care of him. I also remember when Richard got married my mother sat all the nieces and nephews down and told us that we had to stop calling him Baby Richard because he was a grown-up now.

But being a grown-up hit him like a ton of bricks. First, he was shot. Through the head. Accidentally. Amazingly, the bullet went right through his mouth and just took out some teeth. No real damage, you know, other than having to have some false teeth put in and having some wounds that had to heal. He dodged that bullet, so to speak, but the next one that came for him, well, he wasn't so lucky. In his late twenties, he was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I think it goes without saying, that we all know what kind of surgery is done for testicular cancer. A couple of years later, he was once again diagnosed with cancer. But this time it was lung cancer. He went through the chemo. All of his hair fell out. He lost lots of weight. My 6 foot 5 inch, almost 300 lb. uncle became my skinny uncle. The man who could still pick me up and hold me upside down by my feet when I was in high school, became weak and frail. It wasn't pretty. He came through the chemo pretty well, and was pronounced in remission. And then a couple of years later, he was once again diagnosed with testicular cancer. Another surgery later...and we thought he was finally in the clear.

But then, more bad news. About five or six years ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia. About two years into the treatments, he lost his job because he had pretty much maxed out his health benefits and was costing his employer more money than he was making them. He is in remission now, thanks to taking chemo orally pretty much every day.

Family Matters

Every once in a while, you meet a person who you just make you think, "wow, I wish she were my sister or he were my brother." I had that happen with a couple that attends my church. Brent and Kathy popped into my life probably about three years ago...it's hard to say now as the years seem to all be running together. We met at church group pool party. Two of their three children were there with them. I guess you can say I was friends with their 4 year old son, MC, first. He took to me right away, kissing me firmly on the lips upon my saying hello to him. MM was probably a couple of months old, chilling out in her carrier, not paying me a bit of attention. This would change as she got older... she's definitely my buddy now.

But what makes this family so special to me? Well, when I met them, I was pretty much in the depths of despair over my marriage. I knew it wasn't going to work and I was in that stuck point between wanting to get out and not knowing how I could. Plus, at this point, my self-esteem had eroded to the point that I just didn't think anyone could love me. Brent and Kathy just seemed to have it all together. They were, and still are, very loving towards each other without being icky. They are like a comedy duo, always cracking me up. Of course, they aren't perfect, no one is, but watching them helped me to see what a marriage should look like. They both give to one another and work together and make compromises and just love each other. Oh, and they are the most incredible parents I've ever met in my life.

You see, MC, is blind. He has been blind since he was born. Hopefully some day there will be some sort of medical discovery and he'll be able to see again. But until then...blind. And if Brent and Kathy are the siblings of my heart, MC is the child of my heart. I haven't had a child of my own yet, but I already know that you just don't know what love is until you've been loved by a child. And goodness has MC loved me. Pretty much every since I met the family, I have sat with them in church so that MC could snuggle with me. He just plops down in my lap and hugs on me until it's time to go to Children's Church. Most Sundays, I would go to lunch after church with them so that MC could spend even more time with me. If there were a couple of Sundays that we didn't get to see each other, we would meet for dinner during the week so that MC could have some "Miss Amy Time". For the first couple of years until my immune system built up, anytime MC was sick, I was too. Mainly because when he talked to me, he would put his face right against mine. And secondly, because I'm a frail flower who gets sick very easily. Despite the runny noses, what MC did most for me was patch up my broken heart. Because you know what will heal a hurting heart more than anything? Being loved by someone who doesn't expect anything from you. And being loved by someone who loves you completely unconditionally.

As an aside, I do love their daughters just as much. Their oldest daughter C, just started college, and she is one of the most delightful teenagers I've ever been around. And of course MM, she's almost three now. She is my funny girl, always running out of the nursery so she can come see me. She even looks like me. Brent and Kathy tease that she's really my child. We both have similar facial expressions and we can both roll our tongues, unlike the rest of the family. They are all three great kids and I'm blessed to know them.

Oh, and what I was saying about their being the best parents ever...despite the fact that they have a child who needs them more than the other two, they have somehow been able to structure their life so that their two sighted children aren't slighted. They have to spend lots of time with MC, either going to a center for visually impaired people every week, or taking special swimming lessons, or helping him do things that their other children can do on their own like navigate around their home. However, they have somehow been able to structure their lives so that their daughters get an equal amount of time with them. I don't think either of their girls will ever wind up in therapy saying that their parents loved their brother more than them. I've watched them for three years now, and honestly I don't know how they do it. Jeremy has been around them too and even he is astounded at how they manage their family. I just hope some day, when I become a parent, that I will be half as good a parent as Brent and Kathy are.

Peaceful, Easy Feeling

Peaceful, easy feeling...yeah, that's not something that can frequently be used to describe my state of being. I'm kind of always ramped up, wringing my hands, worrying. Jeremy is wont to admonish me that I worry too much. My worrying nature comes partly from genetics, as I come from a long line of worriers, and partly from the fact that I'm the firstborn, the high achiever, the one who has to be in control. Being in control is good and all, but there sure is a lot of pressure to keep all the balls in the air at one time.

On top of worrying about anything and everything, I also probably put too much pressure on myself to take on projects and to do things. If you don't count the Peachtree In-Training (it's a 10K training program), I have the next five weekends booked. If you do count the training, I have the next twelve weekends booked. On top of all the stuff I'm doing outside my home (board meetings, volunteering, family,church, etc), I also have my chickens (that I still love) and I've gotten almost everything together to get my garden going. I have peppers and tomatoes in seedling cups in the house. But I only just started them last weekend, so I'm overly anxious that I've started too late and they aren't going to grow and I basically stand over the seedling cups every day just willing them to sprout. Jeremy's cousin was nice enough to give me some seedlings that have already sprouted, so I have a backup plan. Last night, I told Jeremy that we needed to bring them in the house because it was supposed to get down in the 30s overnight. He brought them in and asked if I'd been watering them. I hadn't been watering them...and one of those balls I was juggling dropped. Days earlier, another one of the balls dropped when I came home to be told that I'd forgotten to water the chickens and they'd gone a day without water and therefore didn't lay any eggs.

Last night as I was trying to go to sleep, I was just too anxious to sleep. I tossed and turned a little bit, and finally I said to Jeremy, "I'm not happy with myself. I'm failing at everything. I'm not taking care of things". He told me that I was in fact doing a great job and that I wasn't failing. I laid there a little longer, and I don't know if he prayed for me or if he was just sending me some good vibes, but I did start feeling a little better. A little more peaceful. Which was really kind of awesome. And made me feel a lot more thankful than I had being. I was thankful that I had someone that I could be honest with about my feelings and that I could lean on for support. And I was thankful that he was so willing to give me a good word. He could have scolded me for trying to do too much or for failing to do what I was supposed to be doing. But he didn't, he just encouraged me. And then I had a peaceful, easy feeling, at least long enough to fall asleep.

Superstition in the South

I have lived firmly ensconced in the Bible Belt my entire life. I grew up in Alabama and now live in Georgia. There are churches on pretty much every street corner down here. And we're not picky at all. We have Southern Baptist, Independent Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, LDS, the list goes on and on. But after this past weekend's trip to Savannah, GA, I got to thinking, "if we're so darn religious in the South, why are we also so very superstitious?"

The whole thought process began when my friend M and I were heading back to the hotel after a night of people watching and she said "rabbit, rabbit, rabbit" when the clock struck 12. As an aside, this is a British superstition that is supposed to bring you good luck for the month as long as it's the first thing you say on the first day of the month. M and I really got to talking about the roles of superstition in our Southern culture the next day when we took a tour of Downtown Savannah and the tour guide pointed out some of the superstitions of the folks there. For instance, a good number of the houses have a Mahi fish downspout. I was only kind of listening to the reasoning, but it has something to do with keeping out bad spirits.

It seems like most of the superstitions I have ever heard of, have been passed down by women. My mother is one of the most churched people I know. She's been in church every Sunday morning and night and Wednesday night for her entire life. But she is also one of the more superstitious people I know as well. My grandmother was the same way, and I guess she rubbed off on my mom.

Here are examples of some of the ones I notice the most:

•  - If a cat crosses the street in front of my mom, she makes seven "x's" on her windshield. 
•  - She does not wash clothes on the first day of the year. And since I've moved out of the house, she  calls me every year to remind me to not wash clothes. Apparently, if you wash clothes on the first day of the year, you will wash the clothes of a loved one who has died before the year is over.
•  - She must eat black-eyed peas, collard greens, and ham on the first day of the year. This is pretty much considered a Southern tradition at this point, but let's be honest, this is straight up superstition. 
•  - She will not sweep or vacuum under anyone's feet. So, if she's sweeping, she'll make you get up as opposed to making you raise your feet so she can sweep under you. I'm pretty sure this one is because if someone sweeps under your feet, they are sweeping away your chance at true love.

As much as I try to not succumb to superstition, I most certainly do not wash clothes on the first day of the year. And I do eat black-eyed peas, collards, and ham on January 1. But, my question to myself is always "why, if you trust in a sovereign God, do you let these rituals influence you so much?" It doesn't make sense does it? How is it that I trust so much in these superstitious acts to keep someone from dying or to bring me money in the new year? 

So what about you? Have you ever had this struggle? Are there any rituals that your family does that you can't make yourself not do despite the fact that you know they are unnecessary?

Mahi fish downspout