Processional

He wanted to find a quiet place to be alone. He was looking for a secret spot to read his Bible and talk to God, so he walked around until he found it.

Then he met me.

And when he decided he could love me forever ...

He wanted to find a quiet place where no one could bother us. He was looking for a secret spot to offer me a diamond ring and ask me his life-changing question. He walked me down to the water's edge to find it.

And I said yes ... to him, to all the adventurous possibilities, to the perpetual unknown, and to the protective One who knew us best and seemed to be arranging it all.

That was twenty-nine (and a third) years ago. #TeamShortEngagement

Today, when he wanted to find a quiet place to spend time with me and feel close to God, he knew exactly where we should go. 

And together we found it.

Our anniversary [re]discovery: familiar peace, our firm Foundation, and a fresh breeze of renewal and hope. 

.

.

.

*Sometime ask me about our proposal and I'll tell you how Philip faked a fight just to hear me beg him not to break up, and so I had to punch him twice on the arm and once in the gut before taking the ring and kissing his giggling mouth then say that I was sorry but he should be too, and I realized I loved him so much because I wasn't even bothered by his off-pitch top-of-lungs rendition belting John Michael Montgomery's I Love the Way You Love Me with the windows rolled down alllll the way to the lake ... just a grinning.💗

RESeT

There is a corner of my bedroom that few people see. Honestly, I haven't even seen it in months! All year long it has welcomed towers of transparent tubs with clearly labeled lids. Preparations, wardrobing, and supplies, packed and stacked, piled high with hope and readiness for all things wedding.

Over the holidays, I finally got it all cleared out, and it feels new and wonderful. The lingering fullness and lack of margin certainly held meaning and purpose for a time. We have found ourselves in a season of serving and sowing along with all the celebrations. 

Sadly, without noticing, I had grown accustomed to the looming excess and crowded feelings of anxiousness, but now, in this freshly exposed space, all I can sense is a new start, uncluttered and calm. Life-giving.

With similar, happy resolve I also addressed my jumbled jewelry hanger that clanged necklaces against my closet door with each swinging entrance and exit. We all know there are only three or four that I want to wear, so the rest have been released.

All that remains is tidy and still. Quiet.

Next, I purged and organized the contents of each of my desk drawers. Nothing I don't need. Everything in its place.

There is peace in being systematically prepared with merely the necessities. Come what may.

Then I even went through my closet, giving away the clothes I only think I might wear, leaving the garments that I actually use with ample room for each to hang loosely so as not to wrinkle.

Honesty. Simplicity. Room to breathe.

Could it be true that our living spaces reflect our soul and its health? 

Well, there remains an unstable pile of papers mocking me from atop my desk, a windowsill disguised as a library shelf, the hall closet crammed with overstuffed photo boxes, and the cabinet under my bathroom sink riddled with randomness, Lord help us all. 

Nothing to fear. Plentiful opportunities to show myself some grace, a little patience, and all the freedom . . . to further explore the wisdom of less becoming more.