learning to listen

it hit me around 11:30 one balmy august night.
my eyes burning with fatigue and the reflections of car lights on the highway, i drug myself over the side porch and into my home. there was robert, sitting patiently on the couch, the couch that used to be imprinted with my shape too. the cushions molding to our relaxing bodies as we watched mindless television, not so mindless of each other's comforting, sweet presence.

and there was pablo. eyes half closed, perched up on his favorite pillow. one paw under his chin. looking so bored and lifeless. in the split seconds before they felt my footsteps on the wood floor and heard the squeaky door fall behind me, i watched them. and i longed for them.


i had been pursuing my master's degree in raleigh, north carolina at a university two hours away. the university i followed robert to, where i spent my undergraduate years with my nose in the books, heart in the future.


life was good there. i learned about the importance of internships, the kindness of quiet professors, and which hole-in-the-wall restaurant on the campus street had the best late-night pizza.


but going back was a different story. the same gentle teachers. the same bleach white halls and freezing cold classrooms. the same courtyard near my favorite english building,with its sweet-smelling trees that dropped their blooms on the sidewalk every spring.


but something had changed. in me. the campus was two hours away--one way. that equaled eight hours of driving a week. and some people might love that. for some, the act of driving is freeing and wonderful, like a movie escape with a radio soundtrack.


however, i had already had a taste of life outside of college. a life of early evening suppers on the back deck and a 10-ish bedtime. of savoring my life outside of work and truly looking forward to my nights.


so, to come home near midnight with the realization that life had happened--real, exciting, sweet life--while i was listening to delilah on the radio or trying to follow along to an audiobook, just broke my heart. i would come home to a clean house, folded laundry and a tired, lonely husband. my family had eaten with nanno without me. my sweet grandpa sat beside an empty chair.


so, two semesters in, i started praying. and i felt the Holy Spirit intercede in my heart stronger than I ever have in my life. never before has something been laid so heavily on my soul.


the morning after that lonely night, i made a decision.


i quit and for a split second i felt bad about it.


but then that guilt was replaced by the most freeing, exhilarating emotion. i can't even describe it. i woke up early that morning and went outside to my front porch swing. with my bare feet dangling onto the cool bricks, i called mama, knowing she'd be awake. i poured out my heart to her and told her of my decision. and like a good mama (and Lord knows, i have a good mama), she understood, cementing my decision.


that was a wednesday. on friday, i applied to johns hopkins.


three weeks later, i was accepted. to the university's first m.a. in communication program completely online. that is correct. not only do i not have to drive eight hours a week anymore, i don't even have to leave my desk at home, with its cherry red paint and tin pail of my favorite books.


all because i listened. to that voice inside me. and whether you call it the Holy Spirit or jiminny cricket, it is powerful.


so i urge you, please listen to yours. it is tiny, but if it goes unanswered, it will grow and before long, it is all-consuming. i am infinitely happier and more at peace with life now. my nights are spent loving on a husband and puppy, and i don't feel like i sacrificed anything at all. if anything, i have been given so much in return.


i used to think the perfect education would make me happy. that having that degree by 23 would somehow change something within me. but tonight would have been a school night. and i have plans to go christmas shopping with robert. to stop by and see mama and dad and hear about their day, and hopefully--yes, hopefully--get in bed by 10. such a different world than before, but so.much.better. {for me}.


and like a hot shower on goosebumped skin, it warms me from the inside out. because i get to spend my days with these folks:

and that little voice makes me want to shout with happiness.

glory days.

"i always wanted to be on a sports team like that. i'm not exactly sure why, but i always thought it would be fun to have 'glory days.' then i would have stories to tell my children and golf buddies. maybe these are my glory days and i'm not even realizing it because they don't involve a ball. "

-the perks of being a wallflower

i was halfway through reading this book when it hit me.

maybe these are my glory days and i'm not even realizing it.

because they don't involve my own home.

they don't involve babies.

they don't involve the perfect career.

they don't involve a master's degree {yet}.

they don't involve a cure for my stutter.

but that's ok.

because these are my glory days. and i refuse to let another precious one slip by without grasping it. holding onto it and relishing it. one day these days will only be a memory.

whatever preconceived ideal our "glory days" seem to lack, makes them that much more glorious. because they're ours. and what a sad thought to think that mine might pass me by while i'm out looking for what it is i'm supposed to have, when everything i need is right.in.front.of.me.  

but comparison is hard. and easy to fall into. i'm a daily victim. so, even if just for today, i'll try to focus on what makes my life glorious.

today it was listening to pearl jam on my way to work, chasing the sunrise. the surprise blueberry muffins my co-worker brought in. the sleepy kiss from robert on my way out the door. pablo's cold nose on my warm cheek.

love. that pretty much sums it up. love.

my best laid plans slipped right through my hands

this is a post about good intentions thwarted. about how sometimes, no matter how methodical and planned are the events that shape our lives, chaos can sneak in. disappointment and heartache can rear their ugly heads. but sometimes--just sometimes--our plans can change for the better, opening us up to new ideas and experiences that our carefully-penciled-in-life might have missed.

i bought my pansies on veteran's day.

on that cool november afternoon, i packed pablo in the car and took myself to wal-mart, perusing the greenhouse-guarded plants with care. i wanted a hearty, strong flower, one that was accustomed to, and thrived in, the cold. i remembered mama telling me that pansies were one of the only flowers that could withstand cold temperatures. i thought to myself, hmm. that's a bit ironic, given their name.

so i picked out the largest bucket of pansies available, being sure to select the one that still had many unopened buds, so i could watch it bloom. when i got home, i divided the bucket into two little pots to hang from the lamp post outside our cottage. and i loved them.

call me crazy, but i get so much enjoyment out of taking care of flowers. i think it stems from my nurturing side, but every morning, i would get up and drag my sleepy self into the cold of the sunrise. watering pail in hand, i would gently soak their soil, excited about seeing their little blooms perked up in the daylight when i got home from work. and they always were.

but yesterday morning, my good intentions were the cause of a very bad situation. like any other morning, i watered the flowers, then headed off to work.

i came home excited as usual, certain the buds would be stretched toward the sun. but they were not.

they were hanging down, dried and shriveled. i ran out of my car and pressed my fingertip to the soil. hard as a brick. how could this have happened? i wondered. i watered them just this morning.

then i looked down. the water had turned to ice and had essentially frozen the roots of the flowers. it had all but killed them.

i quickly took the flowers off the post and brought them into my warm cottage. oil heat is expensive, but there's nothing quite like flushed wooden floorboards on chilly feet.

i placed them in front of my fireplace and let them thaw overnight. i wish i could tell you that this morning, they were back to normal and perky as ever. but they weren't. they're getting there. the heaviest buds are still drooped over, but the smaller ones have returned to their upright positions and have started opening up again. the ice melted and served as water for them.

sometimes you can't plan life. God taught me this in the form of little butter yellow and black pansies. sometimes it hands you a curveball and it's all you can do to keep your head above water. sometimes what we think is best for our life can choke it--or worse, freeze it in place.

so i'm learning. to be open to change, even though it's probably the one thing i hate more than anything else in this world. to let the natural ebb and flow of my days be a bit more sporatic. and to give it time. to let the ice that sometimes hardens over my life melt. and give way to nourishing water. time heals. people change. and life is unpredictable.

perhaps that's why it's also so gosh-darn beautiful.

making a list, checking it twice

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i'm a big fan of lists.

in the eighth grade, i wrote a list of 10 things i needed to do to make the boy-of-the-week-of-my-dreams fall in love with me. the list included things like "smile at him in the hall then look away shyly" and concluded with step #10: "wear my black and white floral capris from Express while sweeping the gym floor and knock his socks off."

at this point in the story i should explain that i was a gym assistant. and office assistant. and time out room assistant. pretty much any middle school assisting job i could take to get out of vocational and technical education class.

the boy wasn't robert, and for all my planning, i didn't turn his head (cue garth brooks, unanswered prayers), but that didn't deter my love for, and faith in, the power of lists. besides the usual grocery lists, i numerate my work tasks, vacation plans and school deadlines.

so you'd think i would love this part of christmas. before the first frost hits the field beside my childhood home, mama begins her sweet natured begging and questioning. what do you want for christmas? make me a list. unlike robert, who gave me his birthday/christmas list in july, i have a hard time with this one.

it's not because i can't come up with things i want. my anthropologie catalog came in the mail yesterday and i devoured it. it's just that the people who ask me for lists are usually mama, dad, and robert. i hate asking for things from people who already give me so much.

and as much as i'd love a new mustard yellow peacoat or platform clogs, i don't need them. so this year, i've created a little list of things i do lack and desperately need this christmas, starting with:

1. less focus on presents, and more on presence. so many times, especially at work, people approach me and talk about things that are important to them--their kid got a good report card, their car broke down and they've been hitching a ride to the office with their wife all week--and though i let them speak, and i even listen, i let other thoughts, typically selfish ones, creep in. what time is this proposal due? what am i making tonight for supper? i miss out on being truly engaged and present in the conversation and thus miss out on the chance for that conversation to strengthen and enrich me.

2. to not let worry have such a stronghold over my life. i place such an enormous value on my family and it can be easy to drown myself in fear over their well-being. anxiety sneaks in over my work and school pursuits. "who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" -matthew 6:27. worry is my biggest enemy and my greatest temptor. i'm like a moth to a flame, and it's burning my wings away.

3. to stop what i'm doing every.single.time pablo trots over to me, nudges my thigh with his nose, and dangles his toys, begging me to play. the older i get, the more i appreciate play time, and if i can make this little furball happy just by flinging his stuffed bear across the living room floor, then really, why not? the internet can wait. facebook can wait. television can wait. i want to do more this season, tear my eyes away from the screen and engage myself in activity. i want my fingertips to feel more than the keyboard, and i want to make others happy with my actions.

4. to remember the beautiful reason for the season, and prepare my heart for this time of year. i don't want to be so wrapped up in the decorations, gift buying, holiday-outfit-choosing and carol singing that i forget to invite the guest of honor to the party. for me, this means a little less fruitcake and a little more fruits of the Spirit.

this is a little list, but a mighty one. i pray it has more effect over my life than my middle school crush-winning one did. i still don't understand why those tactics didn't work. those black and white capris were pretty fabulous.

to face unafraid the plans that we made

i always dreaded that section of the ornament box.

on the very bottom level, covered with a thin sheet of tissue paper--the same sheet mama had folded and refolded for 20 years in the very same box--were the homemade ornaments. ones my grandma and great grandma had made so long ago. to my childhood self, whose sole enjoyment and satisfaction in life came in the form of the entire collection of the babysitter's club books, these crocheted ornaments held no significant value. little doilies with metal hooks. little red and white rings with fraying edges. and it always seemed we had so.many.of.them. i always tried to congregate them in the back, hidden behind my handmade paper mache crosses and stuffed little mermaid figurines.

when i got married and we moved into our first home, along with my suitcases of clothes and books, mama handed me a tupperware container. not too large, with a red plastic lid. i didn't open it until i was alone in the kitchen. with half-empty boxes of dishes at my feet and an empty, undecorated house in front of me, i carefully pried open the lid. there, nestled sweetly between crinkled tissue paper, were the ornaments. of course, the usual suspects were in there too--mama had kindly remembered to sneak my "baby's first christmas" ornaments and tiny cheerleading pendant in there--but on the bottom were the handmade ones. however, this time it was different. instead of nonchalance, these ornaments stirred within my newfound vintage-loving heart a simple kind of joy, and they quickly became my favorite christmas decorations.

we're just starting out. still newlyweds even though it's been two years, we don't have many holiday garnishes. at least it certainly felt that way when robert and i drove to one of our town's oldest and most upscale neighborhoods wednesday night to look at christmas lights. three story houses decked out in garland, wreaths and stories-high trees and candles in every window. but when we came home, i was happy to be in our cottage. we only have six rooms in our house, but every one is filled with love.

but our ornaments are displayed proudly. and isn't that how it always is? things that you once turned up your nose at or couldn't care less about, at some point in your life-come to be the things you most treasure? life has a beautiful way of coming full circle. i treasure these ornaments more than anything now. here's a little peak:

things like boys and vegetables won't always seem disgusting. as our tastes grow and mature, so do our likes and dislikes. in that essence, i love these ornaments, but i haven't picked up a babysitter's club book in years. and i'm glad. it means i'm getting older, and hopefully, a little wiser too. 

a list of four for you

every morning, steaming cup of coffee in hand, i sit down to read some of my favorite blogs. one of the first ones i always go to is young people in love. the writer, sam, is a beautiful, fabulous art therapist (first of all, can you think of a more awesome job?), and she always writes the most inspiring, sweet stories and ancedotes. she tagged me yesterday in a "list of four" blog game that i'm thrilled to participate in. here goes!

four shows i watch:
1. glee for the music, social awareness, and weekly reminders of
   self-worth.

2. modern family because it is hands down the funniest show on
   television.

3. man vs. food because adam richman is crazy and let’s be
   honest, who wouldn’t want to watch a man stomach 21 hot dogs
   in 15 minute?

4. everyday italian. because i want to be giada. to live in her
   beach house with adorable daughter jade. to cook with that
   passion and ardor, and look absolutely stunning while eating
   pasta.

four things i'm passionate about: 
1.  sharing the love of Christ to the world and finding a 
    receptive audience/venue for the message.

2. vintage clothing. vintage housewares. vintage electronics.  
   chances are, if it was made from the 1970s and before, I am 
   passionate about it. find my etsy shop here.  

3. carving out a little time each day, no matter how hectic,  
   stressed or overloaded it is, to spend with my family. they 
   won’t always be here, and when i look back on the way i spent 
   my time, i don’t want to see a long row of deadlines. i want to 
       see laughter around kitchen tables, long nights on the phone with 
   my sister, and random trips downtown with my brother. this 
   includes time with robert, my high school sweetheart, best 
   friend and husband.

4. my dog, pablo ricky ricardo myers. he is a rescue bichon frise. 
   we adopted him when he was five, malnourished and 
   shaven. two years of fattening him up later, he is  healthy, 
   rolly-polly fluffball of love. the kisses he
   showers on me when i come home from work make my heart 
   want to burst with happiness. he is also insanely loyal, 
   and loves to fetch. 

 

    
four phrases i say a lot
1.  “ten bucks says.” this is most often used to stress the point 
   that i know i’m about to be right on something. example: “ten 
   bucks says I can finish my slice of pizza before you” or “ten 
       bucks says it’s going to rain today just because i wore my 
       special suede moccasins that can’t get wet.” of course, i’m 
   all bark and no bite and don’t know what i’d do if someone 
   made me pay up. 

2. “you know what i’m saying?” (self-explanatory.)

3. “i ain’t never in my life…” an expression used to express disbelief. 
   example: “i ain’t never in my life seen a thrift store this 
   big.” can also be used on its own. the english major in me 
   shivers every time I say it, but it just comes out.

4.  “man alive!” used to express wonderment and awe. example: “man 
   alive! LOVE those shoes!”

four things i've learned from the past: 
1. that maya angelou was right. people will forget what you said,  
        people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you
        made them  feel. 

2. that following someone to college really can work out. and be 
   beautiful.

3.   that people who pick on you are the ones you should try to
   love the most, for there’s typically hurt and sadness behind
   those mean words. 

4. that the best way for a woman to understand a man is to 
   realize he's not a woman, and the best way for a man 
   to understand a woman is to realize she's not a man.

four places i'd like to go:
1.   mount rushmore. i just want to see it!  
2. new england at peak leaf season.
3. venice in the spring. 
4. paris in the fall.

four things I did yesterday: 
1. wrote and delivered five government proposals.  

2. ate homemade pasta e fagioli with my grandfather and family. 
   noodles and beans, drenched in olive oil and cracked black 
   pepper. the ultimate Italian comfort food. 

3. decorated our little cottage for Christmas (pictures to come 
   soon!) 

4. shopped at a thrift store and got vintage fabric and twine to 
   wrap presents in this year. so cute and unique, and for a 
   FRACTION of the price of wrapping paper.

four things I’m looking forward to: 
1. rocking babies to sleep one day, with twilight creeping in through  
       an open window and slippers on my feet. 

2. starting my master’s program at johns hopkins. 

3. building a house with robert. nothing big, just a slightly 
   larger cottage in a field somewhere close by. 

4. robert’s half-marathon this weekend. you go, babe! i’ll be 
   cheering on the sidelines, warm cup of coffee and camera in 
   hand.

four things I love about winter: 
1.   HELLO. the increase in CROCKPOT usage! 

2. the excuse to load up the bed with about eight heavy quilts and 
   cover my entire body except a little air pocket for breathing. 

3.  snow nights. snow days are good too, but there’s something 
   special about standing in your kitchen with all the lights 
   off, watching the grass slowly dissolve into white, knowing 
   there’s no work/school the next day and you can sleep in,   
   with absolutely.nothing.to.do. 

4. the towns all decked out for the holiday, with cherry red     
   bows on street lights and candles in the windows.

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four things on my wishlist: 
1. a healthy, happy family. 
2. pretty much everything in this shop. 
3. nienie’s calendar. 
4. a shopping spree at value village, my favorite neighborhood 
   thrift store.

i'd love to learn a little more about a few of my favorite bloggers, so i hereby tag the following fabulous four:

lindsay at scenic glory

maureen at daydream living

kaity at now and evermore

amber at amber blue bird 

can't wait to read your responses, sweet ladies! thank you again to the fantastic sam at young people in love!

a charlie brown christmas

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some people head toward the mountains, piling their brood into a pickup, the cold air tickling their fingers. they go to the same place each year--their special spot-- and choose the perfect one, checking the bed of the truck the whole way home to make sure it's secure. others go to the local grocery store parking lot, the one right on the edge of town, that never fails to impress with its selection. some, like me and robert, have a fake one sitting in their basement all spring and summer long, just waiting to make its grand, glorious debut, raining with lights.


however you obtain your christmas tree, it is special to you and unique to your family. it is undoubtedly a tradition. this weekend, i accompanied my family on a trip that i take every single weekend after thanksgiving.


a trip to the backyard.


behind my parents' house is a little field. in the summer, corn grows tall, and in the winter, the dried, red cobs decorate the ground. it is a little cove, surrounded by trees with a creek bubbling in the back. it is peaceful and secluded, and may very well be the place we one day build our home.


every year since i can remember, my family has trekked a few yards south and chosen our christmas tree from the many that stand proud around the circumference of the field. these are no model trees. they are scraggly and uneven. some don't even have backsides, and we have to carefully position them in the living room corner so you can't tell. one christmas, we picked one that, unbeknownst to us, had poision ivy in its branches. i spent that december with a rash over my eye and from then on, we learned to be a little more careful in our selection.


every time we go on this little adventure, my dad brings along his little handsaw. we'll always have a little lighthearted bickering about which "charlie brown" tree we should pick. they usually end up looking a little like bushes.


our weekend expedition in pictures:

heading out

my brother and his girlfriend. totally in love.

my precious mama and dad

me and my sweet sister

 our selection

carrying it home

one day, i hope to always decorate our little home with a real tree. but if we don't, that's OK too. robert and i will create our own traditions, just as mama and dad created this one for our family. and last night, with pandora set to the "peaceful holidays" channel, and our pajamas on, we decorated our fake tree. like the one we chopped down, it is tiny, misshapen, and a bit sparse. but on it hang ornaments that serve as little mementos of our life together up to now. there's the hot air balloon from our time in albuquerque last fall. the sears tower one from the trip we took to chicago. the "operation christmas child" one we got this weekend when we helped ship shoeboxes overseas.

and i am thankful. that while i can still participate in my family's traditions, the ones that shaped and defined my childhood, i can also create new ones with my little family. years from now, we'll look back at our younger selves, dancing around to carols in our socks, sashaying with pablo in our arms until we fell into a heap on the sofa, and we'll be glad. our love isn't perfect, but like our trees, that's what makes it so special.