For Tradition's Sake...

Every year on the Tuesday after Labor Day, my mom would religiously line the three of us up on our front porch: shoulder to shoulder, backpacks on our backs, and lunchboxes in hand.  Standing in the middle of our front lawn, she would snap the obligatory “First Day of School” picture and pretend to ignore our eye-rolls.  This happened year after year until graduation.  We even did it the year that Mom bravely decided to homeschool us.

As we grew older, we’d groan, wince, and try to talk Mom out of another silly picture.  But she’d insist – all in the name of tradition.

In case you haven’t noticed, I carry with me a smidgen of the sentimentality that was so beautifully modeled by my sweet mother.  So today, as the weather turned appropriately cooler and the Mr. slung his backpack over his shoulder to face his 2^nd year of Optometry school, I turned to my purse to pull out my camera.  Instinctively, he groaned, “You’re not going to take another first day of school picture are you?” 

I grinned.

So here is my *uber* handsome and cooperative husband.  Smiling on command and rolling his eyes – just a little bit. All in the name of tradition.

What a hunk!
*Swoon*

This is how he feels about starting school.
And about me taking his picture.

Happy First Day of School, my love!  I'm so very proud of you and so very honored to be your wife!  You amaze me.

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1000 Days

I adore my husband. I absolutely do.  I happily cheer him on in everything he does and support his bravest endeavor to undertake 4 long and challenging years of Optometry school.

In all honesty, however, it does get taxing at times - this whole grad school thing. And (more often than I'd like to admit) I find myself wishing to fast-forward past this time to his graduation and the start of our 'real-life'.  BIG MISTAKE.  By wishing away this time, I'm missing out on the Gift. The relationships to be built, the memories to be made... you get the point.

Well, today marks 1000 days until my beloved Mr. graduates from Optometry school. (but who's counting?) Inspired by this project - and instead of wishing away this precious time - I will spend the next 1000 days identifying specific ways that we see God's gifts, faithfulness, and blessing in our lives.  1000 gifts in 1000 days.



Here we go!

A Family Affair

I know you've missed me.  *eyeroll* And I know you've really missed our weekend updates. *double eyeroll*

My apologies.

This last weekend, we had the honor of spending 4 (count that - FOUR) days with my parents and little sister.  It was divine.  It was so nice to have a longer-ish weekend with them - and perfect weather to boot!

Words fail me; so, here are some pictures.

Cooking with my bestie

The 2 Most Important Men in My Life

Aren't they adorable?!

BBQ on the Beach!

Is there sand?  Let's bring our Sand Wedges!

Dinner at Pumpkin Ridge after watching the LPGA Tournament.
Cool.

So there you have it!  We had an amazing time; and it was so incredibly difficult to say goodbye.  After we bid them farewell, we collapsed on the couch and marveled at the indescribable blessing that we have been given in our family. Wow and wow.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers!  The weekend is nigh!



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on worry...

I'm a worrier.  I have always been a worrier.  I worry that my family will die before I do, I worry that the future won't turn out the way I think it should, I worry that I will be a horrible parent, I worry that a snake will come up from the abyss and bite me when I'm using a Port-a-Potty.  Rational or irrational, I worry.

I'm a planner.  I have always been a planner.  I meticulously attempt to plan my next day, week, month, year, lifetime.  I plan hypothetical situations, I plan real situations.  I like to be in control. (or at least think that I am)

For as long as I can remember, I have excused my worrying and over-planning as a quirky character trait.  By simply assuming the title of "worrier" and "planner," I excuse away the root of those issues:

My lack of trust in the One who created the Universe.

My lack of trust in the One who holds me in the palm of His hand.

Over the last few days, (and for no apparent reason) I have been overly wracked with both worry and the need to plan (to be in control of the situation should my irrational worries come to fruition).  Lying in bed at night, my mind has a tendency to spin out of control... horribilizing(totally a word) hypothetical situations that may very well never come true.  I guess that I figure, if I can anticipate it, it won't be so bad when if it happens.

Tuesday night, it was pretty bad.  I felt like I had come to the end of myself and had nothing to cling to but the One who is actually in control.  Through some divinely placed sermons and discussions with friends, the Lord has made it ridiculously evident that I am not in control of this life. And no amount of worrying or planning can change that.  And yet...

How can I not place every bit of trust in the One who holds all things together.  In the One who always has my good in mind.  After all, who, by worrying, can add a single hour to his life?   Slowly, oh-ever-so-slowly, I am learning to unfurl this grasping hand of mine, holding more dearly my Savior and holding more loosely the things (and even the people) of this world.

It's a process. I'm learning. I'm growing. And sometimes, growth kinda sucks.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"  - Matthew 6:25-27



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