1000 Gifts: 741-880

                          **The 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, and 44th Installments of 1000 Gifts**

741.	28 years of Brian Matthew.
742.	Gorgonzola on my burger.
743.	A long weekend with family.
744.	Double dates.
745.	Haircuts in the kitchen.
746.	Old friends at church.
747.	Dinner with Grandpa.
748.	God's perfect timing.
749.	A nice, long phone call with my mother-in-law.
750.	The wind and the rain: a powerful testament to their Creator.
751.	Mail.
752.	Chips Ahoy Cookies. The soft ones.
753.	Sunday afternoon football.
754.	Vera Water and Power.
755.	My sister's wisdom.
756.	A thought-provoking book.
757.	Christmas Shopping.
758.	The selfless way my husband serves.
759.	A freshly mown lawn.
760.	Basil from the garden.
761.	Flowers, just because.
762.	Smoothies for breakfast.
763.	Coming home to dinner - already made.
764.	Fall - all of it.
765.	"Rusty Pipes."
766.	The farmer's gloves.
767.	An aged ledger scrawled with grandpa's meticulous handwriting.
768.	New seasons.
769.	God's faithful provision, time and again.
770.	Chicken Holy Basil.
771.	Thai food with my mom.
772.	A crisp fall morning.
773.	My dad's wisdom.
774.	Leftovers.
775.	Candy corns & peanuts.
776.	A 70 degree day in October.
777.	A weekend away at the Davenport.
778.	Exploring our city like tourists.
779.	The smell of fresh bread baking.
780.	Christmas shopping done early.
781.	6 more months of car insurance.
782.	A long weekend with our niece and nephews.
783.	Extra burp cloths.
784.	The pumpkin patch.
785.	Pumpkin donuts.
786.	Walls and a subfloor. (!!!!)
787.	Cheese-Its.
788.	An encouraging text from my sister-in-law.
789.	Thiessen. There, Mom, I said it.
790.	Appreciation from the boss.
791.	Frozen pineapple for my smoothie.
792.	Making soap with my sisters.
793.	Portland in the fall.
794.	Discounted gas.
795.	An Amazon box in the mail!!
796.	Risotto.
797.	A mall, all decorated for Christmas.
798.	A long, quiet Saturday morning and time to savor the coffee.
799.	Work family.
800.	Mulled Cider candle.
801.	Repurposed leftovers.
802.	Cider pressing.
803.	Last days, turning in keys.
804.	Fritos.
805.	Ricotta gnocchi.
806.	Girls' day with my mom.
807.	26 years of Cole Boboth.
808.	Leggings.
809.	Time to enjoy a third cup of coffee
810.	Red Starbucks cups and a long coffee date with my sister.
811.	A family dinner.
812.	A warm, clean house.
813.	Christmas lights hung
814.	Grandpa's hugs.
815.	Time at the piano with Kelly.
816.	A long evening conversation with my dad.
817.	Snow tires.
818.	That God forgives, preserves, instructs, teaches, and delivers me.
819.	Hotel points, and a free stay. (Thanks, Dad!)
820.	Audiobooks.
821.	A safe roadtrip.
822.	Harp music.
823.	Raw sugar.
824.	Sunday night football - with a full house.
825.	Excel spreadsheets.
826.	Facetime.
827.	You've Got Mail.
828.	A run with the Rockies in the background.
829.	Colorado family.
830.	Phone calls from home.
831.	A walk in the sunshine with my Love.
832.	White Christmas.
833.	Spending the afternoon in the kitchen.
834.	Cooking with GramGram.
835.	The way the sun hits the snow and it sparkles.
836.	A trip home.
837.	A full night's sleep.
838.	"No way! Me too"
839.	Safety on a slick road.
840.	A warm home.
841.	Grocery shopping early in the morning in an empty store.
842.	Dinner date with my parents.
843.	Girls' lunch date with my mother- and sister-in-law.
844.	Sheri Boboth.
845.	A sister lunch date in The Dalles.
846.	Earrings turned into magnets.
847.	All the Schlects, in one place.
848.	Engagements and new family members.
849.	Mah Daddy.
850.	Chik-fil-A. Oof.
851.	A phone call from my niece.
852.	All of the Boboths, in one place.
853.	Late night talks with my guy.
854.	A full house of people I love.
855.	Sleeping babies.
856.	Homemade tamales and margaritas.
857.	Marrying into such a great, loving family.
858.	Walks with Stacie Joy!
859.	A clean floor.
860.	Good lotion.
861.	A good, deep clean.
862.	A glass of chardonnay, raised in Grandma's honor.
863.	A year of memories, heartache, laughter, and so so much love.
864.	Downtime.
865.	Spring Rolls.
866.	Fresh snow.
867.	Crate & Barrel.
868.	Peanut sauce.
869.	New yarn.
870.	Heating pads.
871.	A weekend at the cabin.
872.	Prayer.
873.	The body of Christ, working together.
874.	Domino's Pizza.
875.	Football Sundays.
876.	Smitten Kitchen.
877.	Siding!
878.	An unexpected lunch with people I love.
879.	A supportive family
880.	An afternoon in the kitchen.

...And a Happy New Year

I went to Grandma's grave today.  Those words are still bitter on my tongue.  Seeing her name carved in the silvery granite like that sent a shiver through my spine, though the sub-zero temperature outside didn't help things either.  The phrase "carved in stone" came to mind, and I was once again struck by the definitive finality of this.  That she's gone.  That she's not here anymore. And she's not coming back.

******

I wrote those few sentences almost a month ago when I was home visiting my parents.  My mom and I had stopped by the cemetery while we were out running errands. It shook me so deeply, but when I tried to string words together in an effort to process it all, that was as far as I got.  

The depth and breadth of my grief has continued to take me by complete surprise.  I had known that I loved her deeply and I had known that she had a profound impact on my life.  What I did not anticipate was the incredibly profound impact she would have on my life in her death.  Grappling with the idea of death, losing someone I love, and the fact that - unless Jesus comes back very soon - I will have to continue to say goodbye to those that I love. This grappling rocked me to my very core.

This holiday season has been extremely difficult - being the first without her.  She is so much a part of my holiday memories, it is as though it didn't feel like the holidays without her there: without her beautiful voice calling to sing me "Happy Birthday," without singing carols with her around her piano, without her welcoming hugs and the lingering scent of her perfume, without that twinkle in her eye....

Today, December 30, she would have been 81.  Today, we will raise a glass of Chardonnay (with two ice cubes in it!) in her honor - remembering the incredible woman that she was and the multitude of ways that she so profoundly impacted my (and so many others') life.  Today, I am thankful.  Thankful for the 25+ years that I knew her, thankful that I see bits of her in me, thankful for the woman who brought so much love and music to our family.

As we enter 2014, the first year without her, I pray that our grief would grow to joy, knowing - with as much assurance as we can have here on this earth - that she is ringing in the New Year with greater joy than she has ever known.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!  We love you and miss you more than you could ever know.

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.

The Latest

I've come to this space so many times in the last month, and I've turned right around and walked away.  I've started posts and ended posts and completely erased everything I've written.  I'm wrestling with this space, that is nothing new.  I've often wondered what to do here, how much to share, what to keep just for us.  And then, my grandmother died and a lot changed.  It seems like I see everything through a new filter, and there is a lot that seems far more trivial than it ever did.

Having shared bits and pieces of her here on this blog makes it suddenly feel like some sort of sacred space. As in, how can I come here and dance lightly with the silly things in life all while grappling with this deep, deep loss.  Such is the balancing act of grief, I suppose: recognizing the need to honor the memory and cherish the past, while growing and changing and moving forward.  

That said, I suppose it's about time for a trivial update.

Many days lately, I have felt left in the dust, scratching my head as to how it can even be possible that we're over halfway through October.  Riddle me that, my friend.  Wowza.  Where is this time and why has its marching cadence seemingly accelerated exponentially?!  We are now just under three weeks away from finishing Cole's rotation here in Spokane and heading to our next chapter in Denver, Colorado.  

This time in Spokane has been so sweet, but oh-so-fast!  Cole has been working 12 hour days, and God, in His outrageous provision and faithfulness, has blessed me with a full-time job as well.  With the days and weekends so jam-packed, it's no wonder the time has flown.  While we've been here, we have enjoyed reconnecting with old friends, exploring old stomping grounds, and a few weekend trips to central Washington to visit our niece and nephews.

One weekend, we were blessed with two nights at the Davenport Hotel.  It was a sweet, sweet time of reconnection with this amazing guy with whom I'm blessed to share my life.  We explored downtown Spokane like tourists and enjoyed every bit of this beautiful Spokane October we've had.

Last weekend was spent with Cole's family in central Washington: pumpkin patches, football games, and the most incredible niece and nephews we could ask for!  Every visit back there makes us that much more excited to be settled there in February.

With the remaining time we have left here, we're taking a quick trip to Oregon and one more trip back to Sunnyside before we leave for Colorado.  It's hard to believe how quickly the time has flown. It feels like we just stepped off the plane from Honolulu.  We're nearly halfway through this final year of Cole's schooling, and we could not be more thankful or in awe of God's provision through it all.