Smells Like Dating

My parents, aunt, and grandma came to visit a few weeks ago. When I took them to Pike Place Market, Mom and Dad bought us a lovely bouquet, with pink lilies. The aroma was so strong (and no Dad, I'm not talking about your deodorant *wink*), and reminded me of the bouquet my husband (then boyfriend) brought me at the airport during one of my visits. That's why when I took a big whiff of the bouquet, I told them, "Smells like...dating!"

And the funny thing is, they understand that, because they were the ones waiting back in NH when I came out to see my love and his family. Now they're the ones coming out to see me, and they still brought us flowers. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

I loved showing them as much of my new world as possible, and seeing some new things even my husband & I had never seen! It was a blissful week, full of the loving understanding, hugs, and humor of my family. I miss that daily. I could go on about how wonderful their visit was. I filled up a hefty chunk of my journal with the tale. But I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, we made a plethora of memories, enjoyed pristine weather, and drank in the sweetness of togetherness. In fact, it was too sweet! When they left, I had a hard time moving on.

I saw the spot on the couch where Gramma sat, with her feet propped up after a long day of sightseeing, or my aunt's chair at the table, with the deflating balloon we had to celebrate her birthday. There were the "housewarming gifts" Momma showered us with, and the now bare desk where Dad worked a little on his computer. In a way, their presence here haunted me...in a completely non-scary way. There were signs of them everywhere, and I missed that strange comfort of a full house. My hubby was at work, as usual, and I had my list of laundry, dishes, and job applications to get through. But it was just too much. I needed to grieve.

The day before they left, my husband told me how he was looking forward to coming home to all of us. He too understood this strange love of "invaded space." Dad kept saying how we'd love having our own space back, but the truth is, we both felt the loss. It wasn't an inconvenience. It was such a JOY to share this place with them.

And as I walk around the apartment, now that they've been here, I feel like it's more complete. They've left their fingerprints and now it's a true home. It feels like there's a part of them here now. For months I've struggled with my east-coast family not having seen where we've begun and share our married life. Now they've been here, and in spite of the pain of their leaving, it gave me a peace about this place.

The Pike Place flowers have since dried out, a few pressed for safe-keeping in my journal. The beds have been put away, and the extra towels in the bathroom have been taken down. I finished the last of Dad's left over soy milk in the fridge, and we have returned to long, long-distance phone conversations. But there are still things that trigger a memory, either of our vacation week or my old life back east. They're bittersweet.

And now, I think the next time my husband brings home Pike Place flowers, the ones with pink lilies, I'll think it smells like dating and family. They'll mean that much more to me.

Another Letter of Interest

Dear World,
After months of writing letters of interest, polishing my resume, scouring the web for job postings, I decided it was time to address one of these desperate epistles to you. I have searched through every job search engine known to man, and even some of those less known. I thought you should know, all of them have offered me nothing but the following discouragement: "0 results found" or "2 jobs matching your search criteria" (which turn out to be located in a completely different city or state, or not at all related to my skill set.) Could you do something about that? Maybe send me a list of "perfect jobs for YOU" to my doorstep? That'd be nice. Thanks.

To my alma mater's career services center, I just want to say I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I let you down. Even with those resume seminars, consults, and mock interviews, I couldn't seem to grab the interest of any potential employers. I'm sorry I didn't actually follow your neatly organized "Four Year Plan" packet. This is partly due to the fact I didn't receive one until senior year, and mostly because I didn't go searching for them in your handy little resource library. I'm sorry I didn't take you up on your plethora of internship and job options (plethora, that is, within the glorious state of Pennsylvania). On a positive note, I did have an internship, granted it was after I graduated, in my home state, and offered me because of a friend's recommendation. No, it wasn't paid, and it didn't lead to employment opportunities within the company. In fact, I've even had one interviewer tell me my time there was nil in terms of "experience." I know it's not what you'd hoped for me, but I enjoyed it. Too bad I no longer live on the east-coast and couldn't use any of that networking you emphasized so often. Oh well. You'll have plenty of other model students to send you their success stories and boost the college's ratings.

Now to all of the employers in the Seattle area (and beyond) that have received my letters, resumes, and recommendations: I hope you don't mind the inconvenience of actually reading what I sent you. I know, two pages is a lot to fit into your busy schedule. And I wouldn't dream of asking for a short email or written reply letting me know you don't want/need me. Forget phone calls--we both know those are just awkward. Oh, and if you do decide you're interested, can you please not call for a telephone interview when I'm in my pajamas and folding laundry? It's hard to think in professional terms when you've got your husband's socks sticking to your pants (that darn static cling). Like I said in my letter, I don't mind coming in for an in-person interview. Really! In fact, I think you might find me quite charming in my hardly-ever-worn business suits that my grandmother custom altered for me. I could send you a snapshot instead, if you prefer.

In closing, World, I feel like we've had some sort of misunderstanding between us that I'd like to clear up. You see, when you work hard for 18 years of your academic career, get good grades, and achieve highest honors when you finally graduate, it's kind of normal to feel like you've got a chance. You with me? I don't think I'm asking too much--just a nice M-F 8am-5pm job, perhaps with a desk (no screaming children or cash registers please), and a little bit of income. Please no more crystal-ball reading, long-haired, aged hippies who tell me I have no future in publishing, but offer an unpaid position a few days later. That wasn't fun. I'll even take one of those cubicles I hear so much about! I like working in a box! What do you think? Can we work something out? I'm sure we'll both benefit from the result. Have I mentioned I'm a hard-worker?

Anyway, I have more fruitless searches to do, so I'll let you get back to laughing at my feeble attempts. As always, I am available for an interview at your convenience. You will find my contact information at the top of this letter. Please leave a message if I am not in, and I will promptly return your call. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,
Me

Divenire

Half a year ago, I became a Mrs. I can't believe we're already half-way through "our first year," which most claim to be the hardest year of marriage. I can see that, but I also see how joyful and incredible it can be.With all the adventures, high and low points, failures and triumphs, I still find myself awed into silence when I consider this man who is my husband. He is patient, kind, fun-loving, adventurous, strong, and insightful. No matter how many times I break down into tears over homesickness, or lose my temper over something gone wrong, he is ever faithful in holding me, loving me, and reminding me, "I didn't just marry the happy you."

On our wedding day, I walked down the aisle to "Divenire" by Ludovico Einaudi not only because I LOVE the beauty and majestic swell of this song, but because of the very title: Divenire means Becoming. On that day, I was becoming a wife. I was becoming one with the love of my life. I was leaving behind my old life and my maiden name in order to become something new.

Six months later, I find myself still very much moved by this song. Not only does it remind me of that most sacred day of my life, but also who I am becoming. I'm realizing that "becoming a west-coast woman" means more than figuring out all the nuances of "Seattlite living" (which route to take to avoid tolls, which grocery store has the cheapest produce, how to navigate the bus system, where to find great coffee). It's an adjustment to the rainy winters and springs. It's learning to see the sunshine in my husband, when the days seem too grey. Many times, I've referred to my husband as a moon, reflecting the Son.  I want to become more like him, like Jesus Christ, whom he reflects.

I have so much more to learn. And there are days when I feel so overwhelmed by this reality. Becoming someone's wife and a member of the independent, adult world is difficult. The challenges arise from day to day--sometimes as small as deciding what to make for dinner, other times as big as dealing with personality differences. But do you know what I hear in the refrain of Einaudi's song? Grow. Burgeon. Learn. Change. Become who God created you to be. That's why I chose it for my bridal procession.

We're weaving together the separate threads of our lives. It's a process. Difficult, yes. But full of blessing. My husband takes me as I am, "in laughter and tears," as we vowed. But for him, I want to become better, more the woman God wants me to be, the best Christlike wife I can be. My new motto, on this half-year anniversary: Ogni giorno, divenire. (Every day, become.)

Go Figure

I'm having one of those days where I realize, too late, that I've missed so many prime opportunities. This morning I found the perfect song for our winter wedding that I should have used sometime in the day. I turned down a perfectly good job offer that I should have taken, because now I can't get another anywhere else. I had this brilliant entrepreneur idea that would utilize my talents, skills, and passions all in one, only to find someone else had the idea first. And they implemented it so well that I don't think I can make my service/product any better or different. If only I'd had this idea two years ago, I would have been the only person (at least in what is available online) to be offering a similar product. I should have been more proactive in my ideas and job search.

But, as my Dad so wisely reminds me, "Don't should on yourself!" Thank you, Dad. It's just so disheartening to find out, too late, something that could have changed your life has passed you by. Well, on a positive note, I'm glad I seized the opportunity to go to a college in Pennsylvania, to meet my Washingtonian husband there, and to enter a long-distance relationship even though it's a tough thing. But I give God the credit for those "opportunities." They were very well orchestrated by the Master. And I know He has all of these disappointed hopes under control. I'm just learning how to take the seesaw ride of thinking you've found your purpose/goal/right thing only to find you were wrong. Mind you, that's after you've wasted hours, perhaps even days (or in my case, weeks and months) thinking about and preparing to take the leap. Go figure!

Chasing the Sun

Whenever I flew out to see my husband during our dating years, I'd think of it as "Chasing the Sun." It was especially true when I'd fly across the country at sunset, when the sun's descent seemed the longest I'd seen. So what do you call flying out east? "Chasing the Moon?" It felt that way just a few short weeks ago when we flew out east for a friend's wedding, and to begin another adventure. I loved flying into Boston at night, seeing all the lights reflected in the harbor. And of course, the people awaiting us were even more lovely! It went so fast--the wedding, seeing old high school friends, going to church, and having a spectacular party at home with relatives. (It was like the Memorial Day or Fourth of July gatherings I missed/will miss, and what I so desperately craved!) And as the sun came up on our third morning in New Hampshire, we heard the call...

"GO WEST YOUNG (WO)MAN!" This seemed to be our motto as we headed out again from my parent's house, car full of the last of my belongings in my "gutted" old room. (Did I mention how bizarre and awesome it was to be in my old childhood room again? Waking up to that same, glorious view of the green-leafed trees in the morning light was as invigorating as I remember.)...ah, getting a little sidetracked. But that happens on every great road trip! *cue Bonanza theme music*

I've always wanted to drive cross-country, and see all the "in-between" places I've missed in my travels. So the prospect of driving over 3,500 miles to get my car out to Washington didn't seem so horrible when I considered all the good things that were in store for us. First, it was revisiting the area around our old alma mater (where our journey together really first began) and some of our best friends from college. Then it was on to the flat, farmland between Pennsylvania and Wisconsin. Driving through Chicago was an unexpected part of our route, as was the traffic we'd hoped to avoid. But seeing a mid-west city up close gave us another point of reference for our long trip across the U.S.

Having finally left all familiar territory behind, we headed to South Dakota. The beauty and variation of this state was thrilling to me! Going from flat fields to grassy, rolling hills in the plains takes you by surprise, as does the sudden dry, rocky landscape of the Badlands. Exploring these colorful, desert, natural rock formations was like stepping on to another planet. And the change continued when we headed farther west to the lush, green areas around Mt. Rushmore. This national landmark truly inspires patriotism, as my husband pointed out, and the whole journey west increased our appreciation for the natural (and cultivated) beauty and uniqueness of our nation. It's incredible to see how far we've come and the way certain areas of our country have developed, thanks to the service of dedicated men and women.

Wyoming was another gem we hadn't expected. After miles of more flatland, the mountain pass recommended to us by a visitor's center employee sounded blissful...and it was! From 10,000ft elevation, the blue sky, bright and sunlit snow, and all sorts of natural wildlife continued to charm us. It wasn't until stumbling across a juniper scented valley, with hidden waterfalls which suddenly appear, that we finally laughed in incredulity. Who knew these echoes-of-Heaven would be a part of our journey? Or even that such places exist outside our little bubble? And standing on a secluded bridge in that valley with my husband, I appreciated having a travel partner all the more...someone to share in the wonder of God's fingerprints.

From the old west feel of Cody, WY (named after the Buffalo Bill Cody) to the "wild" of Yellowstone (sleeping grizzly anyone?), our trip continued to feel like something straight out of a movie. Of course, we had to stop at some of those tourist traps boasting "The world's only..." or "Famous for..." because it wouldn't be a genuine road trip without them! However, the natural spots were our favorite, which is why we chose to camp all but one night. We'd thought the geysers of Yellowstone were the last "wonder" of our trip, but were pleasantly surprised by the real Montana cowboy riding with his hat and bandanna along I-90, and the fresh apples we bought at a roadside stand in eastern Washington. Even the familiar Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges, and our very own Space Needle seemed new and fresh to us.

All along the way, God plopped little gifts and signs of His glory in our laps, until we began to wait expectantly for them with open hands. That's what I learned from chasing the sun.

 

One Time. One Meeting.

"Ichigo-Ichie" (One time. One meeting.) ~Sen no Rikyu

This quote was posted near the replica of a Japanese tea house at the Seattle Art Museum, followed by this interpretation:

"This gathering never happened in the past and will never happen in the future, as its exact nature never will be the same again."

What bittersweetness. I tasted this last week during my visit to New Hampshire. To know I've never experienced the exact same event with the exact same people adds an excitement, anticipation, and enjoyment to the occasion. Conversely, to know I will never experience it the same way with the same people ever again lends a sadness, a desperation, and a determination to make the most of it. As much as I want to make those moments last, there will still only be twenty-four hours in a day. (It sounds a lot like the post-Christmas let-down, doesn't it?)

Sen no Rikyu probably meant to inspire a more "slow down and enjoy it" attitude with this phrase, rather than a melancholy one. But the bittersweetness I speak of is not joyless. There is hope at the heart of it! Think of all the events in life that are so good and you look back on them with fondness, even when you know you will never experience them again--your graduation, special family vacations, your wedding, and the birth of children. Think of the hope behind them--you look forward to moving on to a new and exciting time of life, building relationships with your family even after the vacation is over, starting a life with your soul-mate, and watching your children grow.

"Ichigo-Ichie." It reminds me not to take these "gatherings" for granted. I can anticipate them, enjoy them, and then remember them. Journaling makes that easier for me. I write about the things I'm looking forward to and, thereby, prepare myself to enjoy them to the fullest by not having any wrong expectations. I write about what happened to record a bit of that "exact nature" (although it's very much incomplete), and then reread it down the road. I don't pretend to fully relive an event this way, but I feel like it brings me closer to the people I was with and the things we saw or did. And with this revisiting, I learn how to move on to the next time, next meeting.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!

I return to the east coast tomorrow for the first time since my wedding! And for some reason, I have trouble with saying, "I'm going home." Whenever I say it, I try to correct myself by saying this is home. But I'm returning to the place that was home to me for over twenty years. So perhaps it's a true statement...

So now I will dive into exploring that elusive term- HOME. I won't pretend to debunk the cliché, "Home is where the heart is," because my heart really is here with my husband, and Washington truly is home to me now. And I can't even fully grasp the depth of what it means to have Heaven as my true Home. So I'll just borrow C.S. Lewis' quote (one of my favorites): "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." (Mere Christianity) I like how Lewis captures the sense of longing for something more, and how this longing extends far beyond my longing for any particular place on this earth.

That said, I have longed (in that less profound way) for New Hampshire for the past three months. I long for the familiarity of the landscape, of roads I can travel without my GPS, and of faces. I long for people who really know me, beyond just my name, and that I'm married, from the east coast, and looking for work-- People who know more about who I am at the deepest levels, where I've been, what I've been through, and who have shared life with me. I hope this doesn't sound selfish. I don't mean to be self-centered in the slightest! I think anyone who has lived far away from the place they were born and raised, and from family, know this feeling. And the people I have here, especially my new family, have been so wonderful to me. I love them all and look forward to developing that type of familial bond which takes time and experience to develop. They have made me feel welcome here.

Perhaps it's alright, then, for me to say "I'm going home...to my other home"-- home defined as that place where I still feel most comfortable and less bewildered by the world around me. And after a short time, I will return home again-- home defined as that place where my love and I share an existence that it still being grown and shaped. In the future, God only knows how long, I'll return Home to be with my Heavenly Father. He is the One who has blessed me with these earthly homes to live in and enjoy. I praise Him and thank Him for each person and place that has made me feel "at home" and able to be who He has created me to be.

I stumbled across this song by Vanessa Carlton today, and I think it sums up this feeling of "home" with the people I love, no matter which coast they're on. I dedicate it to them.

For me it's a glance and the smile on your face
The touch of your hands,
And an honest embrace
For where I lay it's you I keep,
This changing world I fall asleep
With you all I know is I'm coming home,
Coming home. ("Home" by Vanessa Carlton)

 (I guess, legally, I have to say I don't own the rights to the above song, lyrics, or video. I give credit where credit is due. Just wanted to share it with you all.)