It Gets Better

Yesterday after work, we caught a late lunch at a local fire oven pizza place in northwest Spokane. After lunch in an effort to soak up the stunning fall colors, Cole took me to the nearby state park - where he proposed nearly four years ago.

The air was crisp and the colors breathtaking as we walked up the path to the scenic overlook.  He held me close to stave off the chill - just like he did on that January day four years ago.  We stood there marveling at the view, the colors, and the journey we've been on these last four years.  He quoted the poem that he wrote for me for the proposal, we tried to find the exact location where he dropped to his knee, and we retraced and reminisced every step of that sweet, sweet day.  

We got back in the car to head home, and with every curve of the winding road back to the highway, I thought back to what it was like, driving those roads with a new title, fiancée, calling all of our family members, and just wondering aloud over and over again, "We're getting married.  We're getting married!" The details of that day are so ingrained in my memory, and I hope I never forget.

As we stood in that place where, almost four years ago, Cole asked me to be his wife, I could not help but to reflect on how much has changed since that day.  Standing there, with tears streaming down our faces in the icy January wind, we had no idea what lay ahead.  We couldn't anticipate the challenges, we couldn't fathom the joy.  We knew it wouldn't be easy, but - at that point - we didn't know just how much we didn't know.

I knew that I loved the feeling of his strong hand in mine; now, I know better the source of the strength and commitment behind that hand. I knew the thrill of the romance at being pursued by a wonderful, godly man; now, I know the thrill of the romance at being known, so totally known. I knew that he made me laugh; now, I know of the deep, deep joy of sharing my life with this man. I knew that he loved me then; now, I know better how he sacrifices daily for my good, often at great cost to his convenience. I knew that he loved God; now, I know the early mornings or late nights of long reading and quiet prayer and the deep-seeded yearning to discern and do His will. I knew that I couldn't wait to be his wife; now, I know that I wake nearly every morning and marvel at God's grace in giving me another day as Mrs. Cole Boboth.

I look back on that couple, standing at that overlook, giddy with excitement, and I can't help but laugh at how grown up we thought we were, at how we thought we loved each other, at how little we truly knew. I'm sure, years from now, I will look back on my 25 year old self and laugh for the very same reasons; but, this I know: marriage is harder than I ever thought it would be, marriage is infinitely sweeter than I ever thought it would be.  And, my friends, if these past four years are any indication, it only gets better.

Safe Place

It's him.  And it's Him.

If there's one thing I've learned, it is that life never ceases its crazed pace.  We continue running until we're worn through, then we strap on new shoes and run all the more. Stress finds fertile soil and drives its roots down deep.  Its early buds begin to peak out in the quiet of the night, when the mind seeks hibernation and then the sleepless nights string together in a blur.

And yet, at the end of a long day, when it seems that my mind will not cease its spinning, he is there. And everything else disappears. And it is us, again. The rest of the world fades away. The frustrations, stresses and fears evaporate with the sound of his laugh, the smell of his shirt; and I am at peace.  The sound of his voice slows my heart and quickens its pace all the same.  The strength of his arms and the words of his prayers tell me I am untouchable. 

And, in that moment, he leads me to the Safe Place. And he lays me at the foot of the Cross and he lifts me up and he holds me tight and I am safe.

And I know, my heart has found its home.

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Family

I know that I've said it many, many times in this space.  And, I'll say it again. I am utterly overwhelmed at the way that we have been blessed with the gift of family.  Immediate, extended, in-laws, and out-laws, we are exceedingly blessed.

The month of March worked extremely hard to set itself up as the favorite month of 2012.  While the remaining 9 months of the year are bound to hold lots of excitement, March will be a tough act to follow.  For all throughout March, we ate and drank and inhaled and exhaled family.  Our weeks were book-ended with new sets of arms to hug, new stories to tell, and new memories to make.

March entered, bringing with it my big brother and his wife. We reveled in the pizza-making, the story-telling, the card-playing, the being.  My brother was my very first best friend, so it is a gift, indeed, to share this married-in-grad-school-without-kids stage of life with him.  We talked and laughed and felt no shame at calling it a night at a measly 10:30pm.  (Our younger selves would be incredulous.)

The next weekend signaled the beginning of SisterWeekend2012. Words upon words have already been spilled over that weekend.  What a wonderful, wonderful time it was.

The weekend that followed found us venturing back to Cole's hometown to drink afresh that sweet 9-month-old niece smell.  The weather was absolutely perfect, and sometime on Sunday afternoon, time stood still.  The sun was out, there was baseball on, sweet spring air wafted through the house, and we were together. All 8 of us.  And, for a moment, all was right with the world.  If only moments like that were catch-able, bottle-able, and sell-able.  I'd be a millionaire. Weekends like that make my heart beat with anticipation to return there, make a home there, and have weekly Sunday barbecues after church there.

March made its grand exit with a visit from my parents. My parents: fountains of knowledge, wisdom, generosity, love, and a fierce competitive streak.  Seriously.  Among 3 hour lunch dates, homemade pizza nights, shopping trips, and eye exams, we had the grandest of times.  They mercilessly cleaned our clocks at nearly every card game we played, and left us with an uncontrollable excitement for the next time we'll be together.

In typical fashion, I wasn't ready for the fun to end, simply because the month of March did.  So, this second week in April came carrying my mother-in-law. I don't care what you say about mothers-in-law, my mother-in-law is totally awesomer than your mother-in-law. (That is, unless you happen to be Carrie or Kelly Marie, duh. In that case, we'll just call it a draw.) She showed up Monday night - just in time to talk politics, catch up on family goings-on, and lose at Settlers.  Then, Tuesday, I came home from work to find candles lit about the house, the kitchen cleaned, and dinner on the stove.  On a weeknight, there are few gifts greater than that.  We spent our last evening together talking and playing endless games of Settlers.  Our time with her was too short, but oh-so-sweet.

March was a treasure that has stretched into April.  It's been the perfect medicine to keep homesickness at bay and to refresh the heart. What outrageous Grace.



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Love.

source

There are no words needed.  I'm in awe at the man with which the Lord has entrusted me.  It took not long to fall in love, and I can't wait for a lifetime of learning what it means to love this man.



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Sister Weekend 2012

You know those relationships that just fit? Those relationships where, when you are together - regardless of the amount of time spent apart - everything fits.  Those relationships that you slip into like an old, favorite college sweatshirt. Those relationships where you sit in the same room for two hours and need not utter a word... and still connect.  Those relationships where you don't have to dust or vacuum or shower before they come.

Well, folks, such is the life of sisters.  (At least these ones)

This last weekend, Sister and I reunited for our Second Annual Sister Weekend, after nearly 3 months apart. I convinced her that if you do something two years in a row, it's a tradition. Meaning, she is now, forever, locked in to coming to visit me in March to celebrate her birthday. Every March for the rest of her life. Phew, I'm glad that's settled.

We had a wonderful time doing absolutely nothing.  I picked her up at the airport on Saturday afternoon; and, by the time we got home (40 minutes later), we had already covered pretty much everything.  And I mean everything.  Sister don't no waste time.

Such is how the weekend was.  Careening from topics as important as Extreme Days to the root of our pride and how to overcome it.  From faith to food, we just talked and talked.  Three solid days of talking, cooking, eating, Friends-watching, game-playing, and laughing.  Sister knows how to have a good time. (And, let the record show: I cleaned her clock in both Phase 10 and UpWords. There's no such thing as hospitality when games are involved.)

And, even though I mercilessly dominated in our game-marathon, I spent the entirety of the weekend marveling at God's grace in putting this woman in my life. She may be three years younger, but - man alive - is she wise!  Sister has a unique insight into people (myself included); and she is not afraid to stand for what she believes in - even if it means standing alone.  Every moment with her is an encouragement and a challenge to decrease that He may increase.

On the drive back to the airport to drop her off, I commented on how there truly is no relationship quite like that of sisters.

What an immeasurable blessing it is to consider mine a friend.



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Valentine's Day

This was going to be a post about Valentine's Day.  I had drafted a nice little dissertation and rant about the things that I love and the things that I loathe about the holiday.  It was nice. But, then I reread it and I annoyed myself.  Does that ever happen to you?  I get sick of my voice, or in this case, my writing.  So I erased it.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the flowers and the gifts and the wonderful evening that the Mr. had planned and brilliantly executed.  I just didn't feel the need to recount every moment, because there was something more important that occurred during our date.

We had finished our dinner early and were walking down Main Street through the sleepy downtown, ducking in and out of smallish shops on our way to the dinner theater when it hit me.  An overwhelming feeling of, well, I'll call it "love" but it was more than that.

It was comfort.  It was security.  It was knowing that the man that held my hand, holds my heart, and I am safe.  Couples who have been married much longer than we may laugh, shake their heads, and roll their eyes at this, for they have known it for ages.  But, bear with me... I'm discovering.

I'm discovering that butterflies are slowly replaced with comfort.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about letting ourselves go and ceasing to shower and living off of Cheetos.  And, fear not, I still get butterflies.  I still go weak at the knees with one look from him. I still get all dizzy-like when I stop and think of the treasure I have in him. And I still really like kissing him. But, the butterflies now have a companion.

This companion is a comfort that knows that I am known.  This comfort has replaced the "I hope I look okay in this outfit," and the "I hope he thinks I'm funny," and the "I wonder if he likes me as much I am like him..." and the "Is he going to propose tonight?" butterflies.  This man knows me and still chooses to spend his life with me and I have never known a comfort like this and I trust it will only grow with time. It may sound unromantic, but, between you and me, from one uber romantic to another, it's not.  It's definitely not.

I can tell you that our Valentine's Day date was wonderful.  Cole planned a spectacular evening, and we had a wonderful time, and I felt extremely loved.  I can also tell you that I would have felt equally as loved and as known had we stayed home in our sweats and played Scrabble. (Mostly because I would have beat him mercilessly)

I love Valentine's Day; but I also love knowing that my man does not need a holiday to celebrate us.  He doesn't need an excuse to bring home flowers, or make the bed, or leave love notes everywhere, or take me out on the town.  He does that on a Thursday... or a Monday... or in the middle of the day... just because.

I love getting dressed up and spending a night out; but I also love knowing that he finds me just as beautiful in slippers as he does in high heels.

I love getting flowers or thoughtful gifts; but I also love hearing him pray for me, or coming home to a clean kitchen, or listening to him make up songs to sing to me. I simply love the way he loves me.

And, honestly, I'm learning how little I know of love. But, I have a gracious Teacher and a willing lab partner and we're all in this together for His ultimate glory and our eternal good.


Happy Friday, Friends...



PS - Dear Miss Hicks (high school English teacher),  Please forgive the inordinate number of times that I began sentences with conjunctions.  I know you taught me better than that.  I'll learn someday.

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Valentine's Eve

Warning: Read no further if you're too entirely tired of hearing how wonderful my husband is.


Still with me?  Okay!

Brief Review:  So, on Friday, as if I could forget just how much my husband chooses to love me on a practical, daily basis, he took me - on his own initiative - on a date night to the opening night of The Vow (perhaps the girliest chick flick of all time) just because he knew I had wanted to see it.  In case my memory needed any jogging about how wonderful he is, he babysat two kiddos with me on Saturday night.  Watching him with kids = major swoonage.  And, after working all day on Sunday, I came home to him making dinner for me with strict instructions to stay on the couch.

Then, today happened.

Today was nothing special - just another day at the office.  Cole had class in the morning and was running errands in the afternoon.  After a long day at work, I arrived home and opened the door to this:

Hand-cut hearts that say, "Why I Love My Bride, Laura..."

 He had cut out individual hearts and stuck them ALL.OVER.THE.HOUSE.  with reasons of why he loves me.  Can you say "Swoon"?

 Yes, the one on the lamp says: "For the way you light up my life."  ♥   

 "For watching Sports with me."

 "The way you keep me warm."

 "How you enjoy our life together."

 "How you are my home."

 "For the way you smell."  - on a candle.  Clever man.

 "For the way you cook"

 "For helping me see the importance of garlic."  True story.

 "For being My Love." - on the painting of the place where he proposed.

 "How you took my silly last name." 

 "For your loving heart."

 Every.Where.

I am absolutely speechless.  I stood in the center of our living room with my hand over my mouth just turning in slow circles taking it all in.  I'm certain that I still haven't read all of them.  I'm completely overwhelmed.  This man knows me and knows how to make me feel loved.

Even on a non-holiday.

Well, I'm smitten.


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My Best Friend

This weekend was one for the books, ladies and gentlemen.  I'm quite certain that it was a glimpse of heaven on earth... ish.

Because the Mr. was run ragged these last two weeks (having had 7 tests in as many days), this weekend was set aside for NO studying, just US.  Friday and Saturday night were both date nights!  Two in a row... wowza.  And, though Cole had to work on Saturday, I reveled in the opportunity to deep-clean our house.  My inner-Monica-Gellar rejoiced.

Regardless of the goings-on of the weekend, I sit here - on Sunday night - basking in the glow of 2 1/2 days spent with my best friend.   Having Cole in grad school has proven challenging for both of us, so a weekend free of homework may as well have been a holiday.

Any time that I get to spend with my husband reminds me how blessed I am.  To have a man who, from the time I wake up until the time I fall asleep, works tirelessly to make sure that I know that I am loved... to have a man who, though he has a million other things he needs to do, takes time out of every day to wrap his strong arms around me and remind me that he thinks I'm beautiful.... to have man who sings the Johnny to my June and the Lionel Richie to my Diana Ross... to have a man who prays for me, with me... to have a man who dreams with me... to have a man who pursues me...

Yep, I'm pretty darn blessed.    I just love life with this guy!!



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on heartache...

*Warning: What you are about to read contains far too much dramatic flair, mushy-gushy love stuff, and overall gushing about the Mr...  Don't say I didn't warn you*

Photo Credit: ericaannphotography

It was 11:17pm. Seventeen minutes after our mutually agreed upon curfew; because, after all, nothing good happens after 11pm.  We had stretched it out long enough, and it was time to say goodbye.  The evening had been wonderful.  Our standard: cook dinner together, finish up some final wedding details, and cuddle on the couch watching reruns of “That 70’s Show.”  It was this part that I hated.

He got up from the couch, and reluctantly, I followed.  He led me to the door where he gave me a tender hug followed by a gentle kiss on my forehead that sent butterflies to my stomach and turned my knees to Jello. The “I love you”s, “sleep well”s, and “goodnight”s were repeated in an effort to delay his departure.  But he had to go. We both knew it.  I pled for one more kiss, and then he was out the door. It took everything within my power not to fling the door open and chase him down the stairs for one more chance to hold him and breathe in his sweet scent.

Instead, I closed the door behind him and – with my all weight bearing against the door – sank to the ground, drew my knees to my chest, and wept. I hated saying goodbye to this man. Hated it.  Every time, it felt as though my heart was being torn from my chest.

It was 3½ months until our wedding. Every day the excitement grew stronger; and every night our goodbyes grew increasingly more difficult.  I longed for the day when our “goodnight” no longer meant “goodbye”.  Then, I would never have to feel that aching in my heart again.

I was wrong.

Nearly 1½ years later, I have been surprised to find that this heartache only increases with time.  Not the kind of heartache that arises amidst frustration, strife, or dissention.  It's the kind of heartache that makes me miss him when I’m away on business and I can’t fall asleep without him beside me. The kind of heartache that makes me miss him even when we’re in the same room. It’s the kind of heartache that throbs when I lay next to my devastatingly handsome husband as he sleeps. The kind of heartache that is unbearable at the thought of ever losing him. I can’t describe it, I can only wonder at it.  

Nearly 1½ years later, I still revel in the fact that I no longer have to say goodnight, close the door, and meander to my bed alone.  I revel in the fact that – every night – I get to fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. I revel in the fact that I - a most blessed woman - get to spend the rest of my life with my very best friend.  I marvel at the way that, with a single look, he melts me.  Simply, melts me. I marvel at God’s incredible grace in giving me him and at His grace to cause our love to grow with each passing day.

Thank you, Jesus, for this gift.  I'll take it: heartache and all.

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This is Bliss

Do you ever have days when you wish you could freeze time (or at least elongate the moments)?  Tonight was one of those times.  With the Mr.'s odd summer work hours, our evenings together are often all too brief.  I got off work a bit early today and was able to steal a few more moments with the love of my life.  He met me at the door with an armful of flowers and an announcement that I have the night off from the kitchen.  What a guy!

Bliss

I came home to these...

Mediterranean Ravioli = A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.

Dinner Date with my Favorite Guy

 Blessed beyond measure and thankful that the weekend is near!

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11 is Wonderful!!

11 months ago, I married my best friend.

According to Wiki, at 11 months old, our marriage should be cruising around while holding onto furniture, if not walking already.  Our fine motor skills should be coming along quite nicely and our hand-eye coordination is improving! Also, at 11 months, we can feed ourselves now... look how far we've come, My Love!

Love you to the moon!
xoxo

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Art?

What do you spend your rainy days doing?  Well, today, I spent mine making a lovely random piece of art to hang in our bathroom.  Interior Decorating is far from my strong suit, though I DO enjoy it.  Nevertheless, thanks to inspiration from IS*LY, we now have the following piece of original art humorously hanging in the washroom:

Just a happy reminder! :)   Also, you can find step-by-step instructions for your handmade frame here.

Happy Selection Sunday!!

-Laura

Tonight's Dinner [3-10]

Today, we have been married for 8 months.  Wow.  I  can hardly believe that it's already been that long!  I see mothers of babies who track every bit of their development along the way... and I may be guilty of that in terms of our marriage... either way, it has been 8 blissful months married to the love of my life.

So tonight, we had a mini celebration... a special dinner followed by a night out bowling.  We are planning to really go out and celebrate tomorrow night... A night at the Venetian!  My favorite!

But tonight, we treated ourselves to home-cooked steak.  Not just any steak, but garlic, basil, rosemary, Gorgonzola cheese-topped steak... partnered with twice-baked potatoes, broccoli that's to-die-for, and salad.

Gggggarlic

Gorgonzola-Topped Amazingness

Twice-Baked Potatoes

It was heavenly.  And now we have the pleasure of leftovers. What a treat! Thank you, Lord, for 8 wonderful months with this incredible man!

-Laura

Love Letters

Dear Beloved,

Right before we fall asleep each night, we always talk about where we'll meet up in our dreams. I wish we really could do that. Our Arctic adventure sounded fun last night. Also, thank you for your love letters emails that you send me every day. They always come at the right time - and never cease to make my day. :)  I'm looking forward to the weekend with you!  ♥

And PS - I'm so proud of you for acing your test yesterday.  I am truly in awe of you.


-Laura