First Day

I feel like a kid, giddy and planning out what I should wear to my first day at school. I'm picking out photos and calendars to pin up on my work space. Maybe a new lunch box will be on my "to buy" list. But the fresh box of Crayola crayons will be staying home, because February 6, 2012 will be my first day of WORK!

Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have even dreamed that I'd be employed by the end of January. After over a year of searching (some of it...okay, much of it half-hearted), I began to accept that freelance editing from home would be the closest I'd ever get to my dream job of working inside a real book publishing office. I've enjoyed this type of work for the past month. And suddenly, out of the blue, my client publisher had an opening! Snow foiled the first attempt to interview, and sickness the second. The third and final attempt turned into a glorious day of sunshine, kind people, getting to know the office better, and receiving a job offer!

I'm excited, but for some reason an almost solemn mood has settled on me. I'm in awe, shock, and probably more than a little terrified that I'll screw up this opportunity. I needed some time to process how, after so long, literally going on years (since college) looking for the right job, the right job came to me when I was least expecting it. It reminds me of a similar search, one that ended almost the moment I could profess sincere contentment with being single. A man came into the picture and changed my life forever. Isn't that how it often is? Love and Grace find me when I least expect them too.

I'm going to be a copy editor at a company that publishes quilting and crafting books. Such a lovely, innocent subject! I love the idea of working with books that inspire creativity and handiwork. Yet, I know that, just as in school, the days will start to feel long and the work a little tedious, and I'll look forward to vacations and miss the golden days of "summer" when I had no work. But this will be the first day of something good. Very good. It's an education I've longed for, and the type of job I think I'll enjoy, if only because of the friendly co-workers I'll share it with. Most importantly, it's good because of Who ordained it to be, Whose provision allows both my husband and I to work and live with plenty.

It's a new season. I'm ready to dive in and make the most of these next few years. Because before I know it, a new and even more exciting and terrifying season will begin. (Yes, Mama, I'm talking about your grandbabies. *wink* Not yet!) It's just another step in the journey. A turn in the page. Hey, I'm finally an editor, so don't expect my cheesy life/book analogies to go away. I'm just getting started!

Oh, and as for those Crayola crayons? I may need to borrow the red one for marking up manuscripts. Just sayin'...

A Snowfall Kind of Love

"I think January 22nd would be the PERFECT wedding date," I remember telling my mom in the kitchen one spring evening in 2010. "01/22/11. It has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

The funny thing is, I happened to have this conversation before my husband proposed. After we were engaged, and started throwing around the idea of getting married in January, I was stunned to find that January 22nd happened to fall on a Saturday. We kept an open mind, and discussed potential dates with our reception venue. The 22nd happened to be the perfect match, one of few free evenings, no other events, and all the winter themed decorations would remain up at the inn. From that moment on, January 22, 2011 was a day we longed to arrive.

In what little time I've had to reflect on that beautiful day a year ago, looking at wedding photos and watching our video, I keep focusing on a few things. I notice the people at our wedding, some of whom I've had the pleasure of seeing again since that day, and others I haven't. I start thinking about all the moments of our wedding day and what it must have been like for our guests. We were so focused on each other, and the sacredness of that day to our new life as one, as is appropriate. But it makes me wonder and hope that it was as happy a day for them as it was for us. I love seeing them talking with one another, enjoying the food, dancing, and just seeing their faces again. I miss them.

I also find myself focused on this man who I married.  It didn't seem possible at the time, but there was so much about him I had yet to learn. I see that loving look in our happy eyes as we share our first dance, our timid little laughs as we feed each other a piece of wedding cake. For some odd reason, I keep thinking about how young we look. We're only a year older. I was so in love with him then! So how is it that I feel like I've fallen in love with him over and over, more and more, every day of the past 365 we've shared as husband and wife? It's a miracle! He's a miracle.

It snowed in western Washington this week, the most snow Seattle has seen in half a century, I hear. It was beautiful and we "lived it up" by playing in the snow, going for a walk, and admiring it from the windows. It wasn't until about midweek that I stopped and realized how much this reminded me of our wedding week--watching the weather, about a foot of snow on the ground and more to come, wondering if it'd mess with our plans. It did this week. We had to rearrange our anniversary plans due to power outages, our cars got stuck, events were cancelled. It's been a wild roller-coaster ride of a week, but then again, wasn't that exactly what I was feeling a year ago? Over-the-moon about marrying my man and sick with grief over leaving my family...really leaving them, to live almost 3,000 miles away. It was a tough time, but also the best time of my life!

After all the busyness and plans leading up to January 22nd, that morning dawned to find me full of unearthly calmness. Inexplicable, beautiful, pure peace. It was like I wasn't my usual, emotionally unstable self! Jesus had taken over and led me safe into the arms of the beloved man He had made with me in mind. It was the most unusual and incredible feeling I've ever experienced, and I haven't had words to express it until today. I thought I'd be nervous out of my mind, unable to function, cranky, and an absolute mess! But I see the picture of me putting on my makeup or laughing with my parents only minutes before walking down the aisle, and I remember what it felt like. "This is my wedding day, and everything is working out fine." I shed plenty of tears that weekend, don't get me wrong. It was a bitter parting, saying goodbye to my family and dearest friends. But my prayers and hopes for our wedding were answered, with the kind of peace I'm in such desperate need of every day. God gives it when I ask for it, but I'll always remember how He seemed to increase it a hundredfold that day. 

I was an unusual bride, in that after the honeymoon ended, I would not be returning to the "normal" of my old life, all the people who were a part of it and the places I knew by heart. Life ceased to be normal, and my new-normal began. I'm living it now, sitting across from my level-headed husband, with his steel-blue eyes fixed on his studies and the goals ahead. I feel so unworthy sometimes, that he should still call me his bride. My temper is trying to him sometimes, and I'm certainly not the easiest person to live with. That's when he reflects Jesus to me. Tender and gentle, understanding and yet firm. Loving. He's my long-awaited groom!

It wouldn't be a Squirrel Scribe blog post without a song, would it? So here's one I found a few months ago, that would've been PERFECT for our snowflake themed wedding. Oh well. It will make a lovely first anniversary winter wonderland song. I'm grateful for this first year, full of "snowfall kind of love."

Our First Christmas

For the past few Christmases, I've noticed how one particular carol seems to stand out during the season. Usually it starts out by grabbing my attention with its frequency--coming on the radio, in a store where I'm shopping, or in my own Christmas music playlist. So I start listening closer to the words, and out of it suddenly blooms a meaning or lesson I'd missed in my passive, mechanical hearing of the song in the past. Songs like "Good King Wenceslas," "The Little Drummer Boy," "Joy to the World," and "Oh Holy Night" are just some examples.

This year it was tougher to decide. The song that kept coming up was "Silver Bells," with its pretty descriptions of Christmas time in the city. It was a little ironic, considering I spent much of my Christmas season working at my internship in downtown Seattle, and I started noticing that the stoplights do indeed "blink a bright red and green." But all this song does is paint a highly idealized picture of Christmas in the city. So I'm not sure it counts as THE song.

Then there's "It Must Have Been the Mistletoe" which is all about our first Christmas. Equally ironic/appropriate. But once again, it's a pretty little song with very little depth. "Our first Christmas [has CERTAINLY been] more than we'd be dreaming of." And that's about it from this song. I like it! And it's been fun in the context of our first Christmas together EVER (not just as husband and wife). But it's not quite the meditative music I was looking for.

So what was it?

I'd heard this song before. It happened to come on the radio as we were headed to my in-laws' for my first Pacific Northwest Christmas. I got "Holy Spirit chills" at the words and the depth of what Christ's coming to Earth means. I can't fully fathom it! But this song has an angelic quality to it, that tugs at the heart to worship. And it helps that this video was paired with one of my favorite Christmas movies (and depictions of the Nativity). So moving. Listen to it again and let it sink in. Doesn't it just make you want to dance? (Maybe that's just me...)

He is here with us. In our first Christmas, in our new family, in our new home here on the west coast. He is there with my family on the east coast, with my parents on their 30th (plus some) Christmas and first with a truly empty nest, in my childhood home. With all those I miss terribly at this time of year, on both sides of Heaven. I needed this assurance this year, more than ever before, it seems. He's here with us in the homesickness, life changes, joys and challenges of marriage, and everything we face on this earth. He became fully human, and was yet fully God (still can't grasp the fullness of that one either!) so He understands it all. I find such great comfort in this.

It turned out to be a very blessed first Christmas. If I tried to list the ways, I'd probably reach the blog post limit! But at the heart of them all is this--God is with us!

The Inn

I can't wrap my head around this blessing. There is room for us, this Christmas. We moved into our new house only a few days ago, exactly a week before Christmas. In a mad flurry of boxes, bags, and willing hands to move us, I lost it. It was too much! Too much space. Too much stuff. Too much farther from the east coast I'd secretly (or perhaps openly) dreamed of returning to before babies. In that breakdown moment, standing in our now emptied kitchen at our first apartment, my husband held me. He stroked my hair and told me it would all work out. That we'd make it home. That God's presence there, with us, would make our house a home. We could rejoice in the room God provided for us.

I didn't realize it until now, a few days later when things begin to settle and the kitchen is in enough order to make a decent meal. There is room here. I'm not just talking about the extra space, and there's certainly quite of bit of clutter we need to deal with. I mean there is room for Christ here, in our home and family. It's something we talked about early on, as our house-search began. We greatly desired a home, not just because of the convenience or ability to modify it as we wished, but most especially because of how God could use us in a home. We and others have prayed over and over that this house would be filled with the Holy Spirit's presence, that whoever enters our doors would feel His Love, Peace, and Presence here.

We desire that this house will be a meeting place, a sanctuary, a place to worship God, a haven for all who seek it. We desire JOY and PEACE to burst from the every corner. And I'm so grateful for how faithful God has been to us in this time of transition. He provided for us, just as He has been doing since the beginning of time. His greatest gift, the sending of His Son to be born into human flesh, is true provision for us. He provided us with payment for our sins and an eternal, heavenly home with Him! Let there be room for the Christ child in our hearts and homes this Christmas and every day of our lives.

I can't do this without Him. I've felt the weight of responsibility and adulthood in purchasing our first home. I've been struggling with releasing expectations for our first Christmas together. And on top of all that, I'm trying to prepare my heart and keep the right focus in Advent. I feel like I can honestly say that there is room here now, in my heart and in this home. Not by my own strength or even by all the gracious efforts of my husband, family and friends who helped us move and challenge me to run after Christ daily. But only by His grace and provision.

The image of the Inns of Bethlehem keeps running through my head--all shut up tight with no room for Mary, Joseph and soon-to-be-born Jesus. It's a powerful image reflecting the sad state of my heart far too often. Christmas is a time of opening up--symbolized in the way we open our homes to others, open our purses in giving generously, and open presents in gratitude. In the truest sense, for me, it's a time of opening up my heart. I'm convicted of the times I've slammed the doors shut in the face of a stranger and friend alike. I'm grateful for Advent reminders, to repent and come humbly to the manager, the dank, dingy stable where God became a child among us. I want there to always be room in this "inn" of my heart, and this "inn" of our home (which we hope to fill with guests in the future). THANK YOU, LORD! You are WELCOME here, Jesus!

Remind Me

For all the times I've cringed over my silly schoolgirl rantings or bit my lip at pages where I poured out the pains of my heart, I don't regret all the time I've spent keeping journals. I'd kept a "diary" as a child (Lisa Frank designed, if that gives you any point of reference), but my first real journal came from my mom. I was eleven, and the book, with it's floral print cloth cover and lined pages, beckoned me to write like no other blank sheet of paper ever had. I'd written a fair amount in the years prior, but never so singularly focused on recording my thoughts, musings, and experiences of life.

Thirteen years later, and with one small bookcase worth of completed journals, I still add to what I've affectionately called, since the beginning of my journaling journey, "The Tiffany Archives." My latest is a large, black book with my name engraved on the cover. (Oh, how blissfully far I've come from the days of Lisa Frank!) As I flip through it, I realize I've learned to be more contemplative in my writing, not just jotting down the boring details of the day with lightening speed, and wrongly claim I'd captured it. I started viewing my days as opportunities to experience something "journal-worthy" and then approach my entry as a blank canvas to paint a brief tableau, however poor, of what my experiences have meant to me, how they've moved me. I'm still learning, and I hold firm to the fact that keeping journals has done a world of good for me as an aspiring writer.

But there's much more worth in the practice than just improved writing. To be honest, I dreaded rereading my journals and hardly ever cracked open their covers again once I'd finished them. With the exception of treasured family vacations, Christmases past, or my first date with my now husband, I was afraid to relive the rawer moments of my life. I knew from the way I laughed at my first diary, with its one line entries, that I'd chagrin at my childish upsets and "I'm so grown up, look what I know" philosophizing.

A few months ago I decided to start from the very beginning--that flowery book mom never used and passed along to me. As I read, I found myself caught up in my own life story. I don't say that in a narcissistic way. No self-love here, trust me! If you read even a page of those early journals, you'd know there is no room for pride here. I would scribble my rage, or write all prim and proper, using big words I thought sounded impressive, but were totally misused (...come to think of it, I still do this!). As I was sifting through the pages upon pages of emotion and jumbled thoughts, I realized how rare and special this is--to see yourself grow up, to watch an unfolding of thought, emotion, and character in a way photographs and home videos can't capture. What else can capture your thoughts, deepest feelings, and ideas...in your own words? In the present moment, penned on paper for you to read down the road?

I've enjoyed watching myself grow and become (there's that divenire again!). I'm fond of likening it to metamorphosis, but then again, I've always had a fascination with butterflies. As I've read, my husband has asked for snapshots of who I was then. Unfortunately, some of the descriptions have been as follows: whiner, brat, selfish, and full of puppy-love. I was quite the ugly grubbling...still am at my worst moments! And the change to become a butterfly is a slow (and often painful) process. I've seen it happen in some more positive moments: practicing compassion, sharing others' heartache, learning to be still and meditate on what God has done for me. It's a humbling process.

It's my birthday. And on my birthday, it's inevitable for me to examine my past, particularly in the last year. It's been a particularly eventful year, life changing and character shaping in ways I couldn't have imagined! Once I've sifted through the heights of joy and depths of heartache I've felt this year, I go back through the past twenty-something, through journals and scraps of memory. Trying to sort out, "Who am I?"

Today, God has reminded me who I am...to Him and in Him. It's enough to make me feel so unworthy and so in awe of the life He has given me. It's been a great one! Imperfect. Sinful. But SAVED. And BLESSED beyond measure. It's been a joy-filled journey, one I want to continue in the power of His Spirit, with hope and gratitude for His Grace.

Whether it's my birthday or some seemingly insignificant day of the year, I need reminders of who I am to God. Re-reading journals, listening to uplifting music, and reading God's Word have all helped me with that. Let these videos remind you who you are too...

Counting My Blessings

Watching White Christmas on Thanksgiving night is becoming a tradition in my family. It seems like once the turkey is eaten, and everyone has had second helpings of pumpkin pie, we allow ourselves to dream of Christmas to come. And White Christmas is a perfect way to do it! I don't intend for this post to be a movie review, but I have to say, this film has meant a lot to me. This classic has drama, romance, incredible music and dancing, and an overall "feel-good" story. I love watching it with my Grandma especially, because she relates to the era in a way the rest of us can't. Each song creates a mood in me: bouncy and happy, contemplative, or just beaming with a big smile.

The song "Counting Your Blessings" had special meaning to me today. Thinking about leaving New Hampshire tomorrow night leaves me feeling sleepless and worried. And the simple lyrics and beautiful tune are like a soothing lullaby.

When I'm worried and I can't sleep,
I count my blessing instead of sheep,
And I fall asleep, counting my blessings.

When my bankroll is gettin' small,
I think of when I had none at all,
And I fall asleep, counting my blessings.

This Christmas, I can't give all the gifts I wish I could. We don't have the "bankroll" for a fancy Christmas party or tickets to a holiday show. But I feel so blessed for what we have this season: a chance to visit with both our families on special holidays, a new home to move into in a few weeks, and a husband with whom I get to share our first Christmas together!

I'll count these blessings, and so many others, tonight and whenever I feel that ache of sleeplessness, worry, or homesickness. Happy Thanksgiving!

Giving Thanks in All Things

I'm not alone in thinking that the best Christmas season starts with celebrating Thanksgiving. Hollywood concurs! While many Christmas movies start with a Thanksgiving feast, my favorite example is Miracle on 34th Street. It always made me feel like I was there, experiencing New York City on a bright sunny Thanksgiving morning, watching the parade from Mr. Gailey's window. The magic of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has always been a highlight of my family's Thanksgiving. The festive music, lively performances, and colorful floats and balloons were always in the background of our meal preparations. It added to the excitement of the morning, anticipating the feast to come.

I'm a huge fan of Christmas. And no, I don't think it's wrong to listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. Like I said, Thanksgiving is a key part of the Christmas season in my eyes. It's the first family gathering, the first party, of hopefully a long string of "happy meetings when friends come to call!" Thanksgiving prepares our hearts with gratitude for the greatest gift of all--the coming of Christ Jesus. Maybe that's why I love Christmas so much: It reminds me of the joy and peace that can only be fulfilled with Christ's coming into my heart. And it helps me look forward to His second coming. That's a reason to celebrate both holidays with gusto!

And celebrate we will! Hubby and I are on our way home to New Hampshire today. There's a mix of stress and excitement as we prepare to go. That adult side of our brains keeps nagging, "Did you pay all the bills? Is all the trash taken out? Did you finish the dishes? Are the boarding passes printed? Did you pack enough warm layers?" We scramble to answer, wearing ourselves out in the process.We think of the red-eye flight, the few precious moments of sleep that must carry us through the following day. And I'm thankful for ALL of it, because those adult naggings are what help us stay on track, and take care of ourselves and this home we've been blessed with.

At the same time, the childlike side of our brains keep squealing, "You get to see family! You get to see friends! You may even get to see snow! There will be wonderful food to share and songs to sing. You can relax, laugh, play! You will give and get hugs! You will savor the moments, giving thanks to God because He's given this to you! The holidays are a gift, for you! For everyone!" Thoughts like that make me want to just hug that side of my brain, scoop it up and cover it with kisses, because it's so precious. It helps balance the weight of responsibility with joy in the journey. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me safe into adulthood and for keeping alive that childlike wonder and awe of You, and all You give.

Do you know that feeling? You're heading home. And it feels like your heart might sprout wings, returning to what you know. Isn't that what it feels like to think of Heaven? Everything I thought was familiar will pale in comparison to the fulfillment of being with my God. That will be the best homecoming of all! And all these beautiful, excitement-filled reunions are but shadows of the joy to come.