New house.

Oh yeah, Nathan and I are moving in to a new house in a few weeks.  I keep forgetting about that.

People have been saying congratulations and asking if I was nervous, but honestly, I've only really been thinking about it when Nathan or someone else brings it up in conversation.  Nathan's been taking care of pretty much most of the details (shocking to most, but not really in my opinion), so I guess that's part of the reason why.

I wonder if part of why it hasn't sunk in is because you can get a house for pretty cheap in Rochester, so it's not as big of a dent in your wallet as it would be getting a house somewhere in NYC.  Buying a house in NYC, my dear readers, would be a big deal to me.  Now that would be a big commitment and very permanent in my opinion.  And it would definitely whack a whopping dent in my wallet.

I'm not really looking forward to the actually packing and moving part.  And I'm not too keen on the upkeep side of being a homeowner (with our apartment it's so easy - you just call when there's a problem and then someone comes and fixes it for you for no additional cost!).

I am, however, excited about the possibilities of DIY projects that owning a house can bring.  While it's not like I was in prison and couldn't do any DIY projects in our apartment, not being able to paint the walls or hammer in nails were apparently enough limitations for me to feel like my entire DIY craft freedom was taken away.  That's probably how I subconsciously rationalized my lack of home projects.  I have hope that actually owning a house will help inspire me and kick me into a let's-make-something-creative-and-useful-and-pretty kind of mode.  

The other thing is, we'll be moving in with other people (though it keeps changing and is not entirely set yet).  I was hesitant at first about this whole intentional living community thing, but less so now that Nathan and I have at least a year of marriage and living together on our own under our belt.  But as to how I'll feel about that emotionally as it becomes a reality is hard to say right now.

As many of my faithful readers probably remember, I do not think I am a person who naturally likes to be on the move.  If things were up to me, I'd probably pick a spot and stay there for the rest of my life.  I think of myself as someone who likes to set her roots and keep those roots growing.  But with feeling disconnected from my NYC home and with college and post-college life keeping me on the move, I've often wondered if this is how Abraham felt when God called him to pack up and go.  And keep going.  And keep moving.

But strangely, as I think about moving from the apartment to the new house, I don't feel anxious or reluctant or like a turtle being pulled out from her shell.  I don't know if that's because the whole new house thing hasn't sunk in yet, or because I'm starting to get used to this state of constant moving.  Who knows?  Maybe I'm just...ready.

I guess we'll find out in a future blog post.

More than lost signals.

Someone stole our GPS from our car last week.  They also stole a few CDs and a car charger, too.  It didn't look like anyone broke into the car, so I suspect that Nathan and I somehow forgot to lock the car when we unloaded it the day before, carrying way too many conference supplies and snacks after running some errands.

There were many different frustrations to reckon with - frustration that Nathan and I (though I think it was probably really me) forgot to lock the door in the first place; frustration that I didn't want to feel dependent on the stupid GPS but was feeling the tensions of not having it because everywhere we've needed to travel to so far didn't seem to have proper signage.  Cue the extra u-turns, missed exits, and roundabout routes to destinations.  Then cue the rain, the unnecessary tears, and confused husband who doesn't know what to do with his mess of a wife.

But the stolen GPS also came in the midst of this major season of frustration in my life, which can be boiled down into two categories:  frustrations with ministry, and frustrations with myself.

I know this may sound super cheesy, but I can't help but compare how I feel about our missing GPS with how I feel about my life.  I feel like a terrible wife, a terrible daughter, a terrible staff worker, and a terrible follower of Jesus.  I don't know where I'm going, I don't know what God's saying, or how to lead others who don't think like me or communicate like me very well.  I don't know how to trust God but also avoid sitting around waiting for God to wave a magic wand and do something.  I know He doesn't work that way.

It's frustrating because I'm trying to make decisions about where to go or what to try instead of just standing around, but I don't have any signs telling me if I'm going the right way or need to turn around.  Everything I try seems to hit dead ends.

Today I realize I'm starting to feel a numbness creep in.  There's a temptation for me to start shutting down because I've tried caring and it's not getting me anywhere.  It only seems to deepen the sense that I'm lost.  Nothing seems to work.

But my fear of becoming depressed seems to be outweighing everything else to give me enough strength to fight the numbness for now, so I'm trying to dig into God's Word again.  I may not recognize where God's working or what God's doing in my life.  I may not understand what He's trying to tell me.  And I may be terrible at almost everything.  But I'll use what little gas I have left in the tank to try and show up. 

One year.

Yes, Nathan and I have survived one year of marriage.  We passed our one year mark this past week, and we celebrated like the (new-ish) Bixlers that we are by spreading our anniversary celebration out among a weekend and then some.  We went to a bed and breakfast, a renaissance festival, and had lovely, delicious meals made for us by other people.  I was delighted.  It was great.

At the beginning of the weekend, Nathan asked me to think about things I enjoyed and things I didn't like about/during our one year of marriage, and then about things I'd like to see us do/change for the future.  And the things I thought about didn't have to be directly related to Nathan.  It was to help us put together a better rule of life for us as a couple for the future.

Instead of listing out all of those specific things here, I thought I'd share some things that I've learned either about myself, about Nathan, or about marriage/married life as Mrs. Bixler:

1. Nathan and I both don't really care about whether you squeeze the toothpaste tube from the bottom or the top.
2. For me personally, I associate discipline so closely with routine that if I don't have routine, I tend to become way less disciplined.
3. Waking up to Nathan is quite possibly my favorite part of the day.
4. Trying to fall asleep while Nathan snores profusely is quite possibly my least favorite part of the day.
5. I like Rochester a LOT better than Binghamton as a town/city.
6. Being married causes me to see how prevalent and visceral my sinfulness really is.
7. Nathan gains his energy with me very differently than how he gains his energy with other people.
8. I really enjoy the company of having couple friends.
9. There are many other couples who interact with each other very similarly to the way Nathan and I do.
10. I have figured out some ways I can take Sabbath while traveling or being away from home.
11. "It's not bad, it's just different" = my mantra for the year.
12. It's great for a couple to learn before getting married the importance and art of trying not to use absolutes (i.e., always, never) when referring to the other spouse's habits and behavior.  It has served us well.  
13. Reading books to each other that we can discuss while we drive is fun and really works for us.
14. We need to bring more than one book to read to each other when we drive just in case we don't like the first book.
15. I really like being married.
16. I still enjoy not owning a television.
17. I love having a budget where Nathan and I can take classes for things we enjoy or are interested in.
18. Nathan is great at managing our finances.  Me?  Not so much.  Surprised?  Yeah, me, too.  And not really at the same time.
19. Our top three kinds of arguments/conflicts:
1. Trying to figure out what the other person is actually saying. 
2. One spouse wanting to give what the other spouse wants (to serve him/her), but the other spouse not wanting to let the first spouse give it.
3. Each other's driving habits/style.
20. Visiting new coffee shops is the most genius way of us taking Sabbath together. 

Learning the pattern of forgiveness.

Whether or not you've known me for a long time or for not very much time at all, chances are you haven't heard me raise my voice - our of anger, frustration, or stress.  I'm pretty sure I rarely (not never!) express any of those things by raising my voice, or even yelling.  You might see them in my facial expressions, but I can't think of the last time I've had an outburst.  Even if I had an outburst, I probably didn't realize I was having it until after the fact.

At home with Nathan, though, I'm very comfortable with raising my voice when I'm angry or frustrated, and I'm very aware that I'm doing it.

Now, you may be thinking, "Why the discrepancy?"  Part of it may be a subconscious effort to compose myself in public - not necessarily because of insecurities, but that my anxiousness about making others feel uncomfortable, awkward, or shaken easily outweighs my desire to express my anger or frustration.  Part of it is simply because it takes a LOT to get me so angry or frustrated to a point where I'd yell.

But with Nathan, it's easy for me to get annoyed to the point where I want to yell.  We're so different in so many ways - the way we think, the way we process information, the way we make decisions, the way we interact with people, the whole shebang - that we easily misunderstand and miscommunicate with each other, and get on each other's nerves.

In fact, this may sound weird, but I like the fact that I raise my voice and/or yell when I'm upset with Nathan.  Don't get me wrong - it's not that I enjoy conflict or am happy when I get frustrated.  Oh, no, no, no, no indeed.  It's the fact that I feel comfortable enough with Nathan to express my frustration.  Especially for someone like me who came from a culture and a home where issues were often swept under the rug, passive aggressiveness was the common route of conflict avoidance to take, and yelling at someone when angry or frustrated felt wrong to me, I have a better sense of freedom now.  I have the safe space to learn how to fully engage these kinds of conflicts without necessarily hurting others or myself.

There's a sense of freedom also because there's security in our commitment to love each other.  It feels okay to engage Nathan in our conflicts head on because I'm not afraid he'll leave or throw in the towel in our marriage when either of us are upset or we face conflicts.      

I'm not saying I'm any expert on dealing with conflict now, but I've definitely grown tremendously since I've been with Nathan, and even more so being married to him.  I've been recognizing my own wrong attitudes or actions more quickly, and am able to ask for forgiveness in a more timely manner, as opposed to letting my pride fester in lies or burying my emotions with the time that has passed.  Facing our faults together definitely makes the healing process come a little faster and in a healthier way, and I think it makes us stronger.

Forgiveness.  Diminishing your pride and taking up humility to ask for forgiveness really does seem to be the key to a thriving marriage.  Or any relationship, for that matter.  And isn't that one of the biggest things Jesus exemplified in His great love for us?

My first Easter as a married woman.

We celebrated Easter in Binghamton, work has been kicking our butts, and I've got that "Ho Hey" song stuck in my head.  Okay, that last one was more of a random, unimportant thought to share.  Still, there are a lot of thoughts to unpack, but since I'm a big fan of linear thinking, we'll go in the order I've said them.

Nathan and I did indeed celebrate our first Easter as a married couple in our alma mater town.  Most of our friends there assumed we were on our way down to NYC or were passing through Binghamton on our return home to Rochester.  But neither were true.  The original plan was always Rochester-to-Binghamton, Binghamton-back-to-Rochester.  

Ironically, Easter was never a big thing to celebrate in my community growing up.  I say, 'ironically,' because as Christians, it should be one of our biggest celebrations of the year.  Very arguably bigger than Christmas.  It's the day we recognize Jesus's power to conquer death, the penalty he took on himself though we deserved it.  Declaring, "Christ is risen!" and, "Alleluia!" doesn't even seem to capture the magnitude of awe for what Christ has done.

But I don't have many childhood memories of making Easter a big deal.  My family didn't get together to have a special meal, and my church would maybe sing some special songs and put white, smelly lilies at the foot of the sanctuary podium.  Besides those few things and my Sunday School teacher saying, "Happy Resurrection Sunday!" to everyone he passed by, Easter more often than not didn't feel very different from any other Sunday.  And it's only within the past several years where I actually began to care enough to notice and grew a desire to do something about it.  

Now, even though I come from an Asian American Christian background/community, I can't assume or blatantly generalize that we're not joyful or that the way we express it is simply wrong (I can rant about the ideas I have for ways the Asian American Christian community could celebrate Easter in a special way without losing or diminishing our Asian American culture, but that's a post I've already done somewhat and can continue at another time).  Instead, my desire comes from a place of wanting to partake in a corporate celebration that expresses deep, gracious joy in a way that's special from ordinary days but isn't so completely different that it distracts me from the true focus. 

Visiting Binghamton was a great opportunity to fulfill this desire.  Last year, Nathan attended the Anglican Church of the Good Shepherd's (a church we've been to several times because some of our friends go there) Easter Vigil and Sunday Easter Service and joined the MacQuarrie family (InterVarsity volunteers) Easter dinner as well.  Nathan's love and appreciation of worship through liturgy (as well as the pastor's teaching), and the notorious chaos of the MacQuarrie family get-togethers had won him over so much that he asked me if we could go back this year.  Although my introverted side of me cringed a little, the idea of visiting friends and celebrating Easter in a new way immediately outweighed any of my hesitations.    

There are so many thoughts I could share from this great weekend (though it had its hiccups as well), but since it's the end of Easter weekend I'll share one thing that struck me during the Easter service sermon:

I am like the women who went to Jesus' tomb with embalming spices.  Like them, I have been following Jesus for a long time.  Like them, I know His promises in my head.  And I've tried and tried and tried to jump-start this knowledge as felt reality.  But this year it's been hard to feel His presence.  And as this year has gone on, it has gotten harder to believe His promises.  As I said earlier, ministry work has been kicking my butt - and when your husband's ministry work is also kicking his butt, and you're adjusting to married life with someone who's almost your complete opposite while also trying to develop solid community from scratch in the post-grad world, it can take a toll on your already waning relationship with Jesus.  I began to mourn the loss of my relationship with Jesus the way the women were convinced Jesus was not coming back. 

But today, while there was no bursting whoop-de-doo moment or tear-jerking movement, Jesus has reminded me of His hope.  I was faced with the reality that Jesus' promises are not grounded in the strength of my emotive will.  Today, Jesus has filled my empty heart with true joy despite my circumstances.  And though I've heard the Easter story over and over again many times, today Jesus gave me a fresh glimpse of the fullness of his conquer over the grave.  Alleluia, alleluia!

With Barb MacQuarrie's, "Once you have a seat at our table, there'll always be a seat for you," comment, it looks like Nathan and I have a new Easter celebration tradition to partake in that I will certainly look forward to each year.

To breathe into.

Nathan recently asked me what and/or who inspires me.  I was a little caught off guard.  I don't really think about inspiration or the source of it in my life (besides Jesus, of course) all that frequently unless it's asked of me in some leadership exercise or group activity. It was really interesting to think about because when I thought about the people in my life, even though I care about them and they care about me, it didn't necessarily mean they inspired me.

Thinking about what "inspired" meant and looking at the word itself made me curious to find out its dictionary definition and Latin root (I had taken three years of Latin in high school, so it looked familiar enough for me to think it did have a Latin root).

According to Dictionary.com:

in·spire

 

[in-spahyuhr] verb, in·spired, in·spir·ing.

verb (used with object)
1.  to fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence: 
His courage inspired his followers.
2.  to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.): 
to inspire confidence in others.
3.  to fill or affect with a specified feeling, thought, etc.: 
to inspire a person with distrust.
4.  to influence or impel: 
Competition inspired her to greater efforts.
5.  to animate, as an influence, feeling, thought, or the like, does: 
They were inspired by a belief in a better future.  

And according to Wikipedia (and confirmed by Merriam-Webster dictionary):

The word "inspiration" comes from the Latin noun inspiratio and from the verb inspirare. Inspirare is a compound term resulting from the Latin prefix in (inside, into) and the verb spirare (to breathe). Inspirare meant originally "to blow into", as for example in the sentence of the Roman poet Ovid: "conchae [...] sonanti inspirare iubet"^[2] ("he orders to blow into the resonant [...] shell"). In classic Roman times, inspirare had already come to mean "to breathe deeply" and assumed also the figurative sense of "to instill [something] in the heart or in the mind of someone".

To breathe into.  To influence.  To produce a feeling or thought.  Who and/or what did those things look like in my day-to-day life?

When I think about it, there are certain aspects of people's lives that inspire me in certain areas or situations.  But when it comes to ongoing inspiration, I think of three specific people:

Pam.  I sometimes like to think that Pam's in my head.  As my older sister who has been my best friend since I was born, she's probably had the deepest influence on me.  There are some things I'm very aware are a result of her influence - like the fact that I don't drink soda very much is because of Pam.  Or the fact that I like to read for fun.  And there are other habits, patterns, mannerisms, and core ideals that I have that if you dig deep into my psychological realm you'll find come from her.  She's not just someone whose character and skills I admire, but more often than not I've also wanted to emulate.  Her deep compassion for people and their growth/development, her great talent for hosting and planning events, and her immense self-control and self-discipline when it comes to staying healthy and taking care of her body are just some of categories of things that I like to think she has breathed into my life.  Not saying that they're at the same level of where she is, but that the "voices" in my head that push me and inspire me to learn, grow, and reach further on a daily basis come from her.  I could write a whole blog series on my relationship with Pam, but we'll stop here for now.

Carrie.  Working under Carrie's leadership as a student and a staff worker has inspired a lot of who I am during my young adult developmental years.  She has the ability to understand where I'm coming from while also speaking to where I could be.  She's asked me the hard questions I never thought about, gave me challenges she believed I could accomplish and grow from, and has shaped the way I lead others and the intuition I have been learning to trust a little more.  I sometimes think, "What would Carrie do?" when I'm stuck in vocational situations with students, or even take pages from her book when it comes to ideas.  

Nathan.  To the dreams I used to dream, I say, "That would never happen."  To those same dreams, my husband says, "Why not?"  And to all the ideas that I think would be so cool if they worked, but the small chance of success would probably not be worth the bigger chance of failure, my husband says, "Let's try it."  My husband is not satisfied with good intentions or incremental change.  He likes to quote Revelation 21:1-4 (his favorite verses) a lot, but it's not something he believes is just magically going to happen - it's something he actively works toward in his daily decisions.  He inspires my future because no longer are the hopes of living life to the fullest beyond all possibility - with him, recognizing that the promises and power of God are not empty visions but realities that are just out of reach.  And for someone like me who is all too willing to let dreams die, that's pretty inspiring.    

Family shenanigans.

Ever since my time in college, spending time with my family sometimes made me feel out of place.  In college, time passed, and I changed immensely.  With my family, though, time passed and things either didn't change or changed very, very slowly - including the way my family viewed who I am.  More often than not, I've had a difficult time trying to reconcile who I was and who I was becoming.  It often felt like when I left for college I had begun to grow out of my shell, but every time I came back home I had to squish myself back into the old shell I had outgrown...and no one would seem to notice or treat me otherwise.  It's not meant to be an entirely negative thing - it's not like I felt neglected or unloved, or anything.  Just a little out of place, awkward, or not really knowing how to navigate the space anymore.

But having my family visit me and Nathan in Rochester this past weekend was extremely refreshing.  And I think a big reason for that is because it felt like I wasn't just introducing my family to my new home and new life, but I was introducing my family to my new shell.  This is who I am becoming.  Welcome to the space of new life I've been creating for a while now.  Here's a taste of what I value, what I enjoy, what decisions I've made and why.  What God's been doing in me.

And it was exciting because they seemed to like it all.  We enjoyed ourselves quite a bit!  We talked about life, we were silly, we ate good food and had a lot of fun.  I got to show them where I work, where I like to eat, where we live.  Maybe it was exciting because I somehow felt that if they liked Rochester, then it was them saying they liked and accepted the new me I was becoming.

Of course, there are still things we're learning about our new family dynamics of me no longer living in their house, being married, and having a whole different kind of life.  There definitely were some minor tensions from time to time.  But considering the relational turmoil we've undergone this past year, it's a beautiful new beginning that makes me rather happy.  I know it'll take time for things between us to continue new growth, but seeing the hope I was hanging on to actually come to life is enough to keep me content for a while.

Sweet, sweet sabbaths.

I am so grateful to God for the gift of sabbath.  Especially in the midst of having this rain cloud hang over my head, taking sabbath is like running into a shelter for a moment of protection from the downpour.  It is by God's grace and mercy that I can rest despite the unrest I've often felt recently in my vocational world, my familial world, and my future.

It's also twice as wonderful to take sabbath with my new husband - three times as wonderful when you find a   beautiful way of taking sabbath together for two very different people.  Nathan came up with the brilliant idea of making a list of all the local coffee places and deciding to visit a different one during each sabbath.  It works really well for us.  Nathan gets to go explore a new area of town and gain a mini sense of adventure; I get the stability and consistency of visiting a coffee place (there's coffee and there's food).  Since Nathan is a high extrovert, he gets to be around the hustle and bustle of people coming in and out, having intriguing conversations or just being there; since I'm a pretty high introvert, although there are people everywhere, I thankfully don't have to talk or interact with them - I can just be in my own world of reading or writing or talking (when I feel like it) with my husband.  There's no rush to go somewhere or meet anyone, and we have the freedom to change plans on the spot.  And on top of it all, we get to learn a little bit more about our new neighborhood, enjoy some delightful treats, and spend quality time in each other's presence.  Even more so, since we tend to travel a lot, we can take our sabbath practices with us on the road...there's usually a coffee place of some kind in every town!

Have I mentioned how much I enjoy taking sabbath with my husband yet?

I've forgotten how to make friends.

There are not many things I expected or clearly wanted in a "potential husband."  I didn't create this customized soul mate for myself in my head because I knew "the one" didn't exist.  However, one of the few things I whole-heartedly (and still do) believed was that it was possible and it was okay to want my husband to be my best friend.  And friendships don't just pop out of nowhere - they need to grow and mature if you nourish them and let them go through trials.  That's how I concluded that if I were to enter a dating relationship (which, from my perspective, is for the purpose of working towards marriage), it would stem out of a solid and somewhat deep friendship I had with a brother in Christ.

And that's exactly what happened.  But I think Nathan and I did a pretty good job making it clear while we were dating that we weren't going to be each other's entire world.  We knew our significant other wasn't going to fill our emptiness, meet our every need, or make us never feel lonely again.  Other people are very important to me.  Friends and those in need were my top priority for most of my life, and a boy wasn't going to come in and mess that up. I've always needed and wanted different circles of friends, and because of this, I knew that that aspect of moving to Rochester was going to be difficult and that being married wouldn't be enough.

I don't have any friends here.  I'd like to make some.  The only problem is, I've practically forgotten how to make friends.  During my college years I was more often than not surrounded by people I knew, and even if there were new friends to be made, I made them together with my home base of friends there with me.  Nowadays I get shy or just don't open up as easily or quickly because it feels so new.  And I don't have a solid base of friends to retreat to when new relationships don't quite hit it off the way I'd hoped.

This old feeling has returned where I feel like I'm barely hanging on to my relationships from back home.  Ever since my college years I've always found it very difficult for me to develop my relationships with those who weren't within my immediately community.  It becomes a nasty tug-of-war within myself because it takes a lot of work to develop my immediate community around me, and it takes a lot of work to develop the community I grew up with, and finding a balance is like walking through some thick, pitch-dark woods without a flashlight or anything else to survive the night with.

I want my friends and family back home to know how important they are to me and how much I want to be there for them, but I know that I can't be there for them the same way I could if I was living near them.  Maybe it's been like this for a while or it's a long time coming, but the reality that I'm not going to be the first person anyone would call for help or advice has been sinking in.  No one's going to expect me to comfort them through this difficult time they're going through and ask me to pray for them right now.  I'm not going to be asked for my opinion about which color to paint their room or if they could borrow one of my dresses.  No one's going to say, "I'm so glad you picked up your phone because I really needed to talk to you."  I'm not going to be at the forefront of people's minds because the reality is that people are busy, I'm not in a dire situation (like a soldier or missionary serving overseas), and I'm not by myself.  I'm married now.

Well, I got what I asked for: my husband is my best friend.  It just never sunk in as to how, after gaining this best friend of a husband, moving to Rochester would be at the cost of so many other relationships.  The rubber has begun to meet the road where I'm working through the losses of stepping out of a community that has loved me, encouraged me, and supported me for many, many years. 

I've been thinking and blogging a lot lately about the concept of living a good story.  And as I wrestle within the tensions of moving to the fringe of one community and what it means to move deeper into another, it forces me to think about the God I serve - the God who calls us to develop and steward community as we go to the places God leads us.  The move to Rochester is a threshold I'm forced to make a decision about:  I can either constantly look back over my shoulder at what could've or should've been, or I can look forward to the opportunities I have before me to live a better story.  So I'm choosing to embrace the new stories and relationships God invites me to participate in and I'm looking forward to sharing these stories with those in both the community of my past and the community of my future.

The new Mrs. Bixler.

I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.

It's been a whirlwind of transitions over this past year, and even though it seems like the tornado has finally flung me to the ground, I'm still feeling the dizzying affects from the ride.  And I don't think it's the kind that will go away in a few minutes once I get my balance again.

The world keeps spinning and life keeps moving, and the treadmill of time doesn't stop for anyone.

People kept asking me after the ceremony and during the reception what it feels like to be married, and honestly, it feels the same way it feels like when you're celebrating your birthday...not all that different.  Well, until you get your driver's permit, or you drink your first alcoholic drink.  Or you feel an ache in your back that just doesn't seem to go away.  Or maybe you start getting sleepy at 9:40 pm like clockwork every night when you used to stay up until 2 in the morning so easily just a few years ago in college.  Sometimes it doesn't really sink in as to how you're getting older until it hits you in those small moments.

It's those ripples that remind you of the evidence that something had dropped into your undisturbed ecosystem of pond life.

Like waking up in the morning only to find you're not alone.  Or not really knowing what to do to "get back into the swing of things" because your normal routine didn't have to include a skinny, 6-foot-3, 22-year-old who writes emails, checks nerdy websites and Facebook, reads a bajillion articles and gets five times more things done all before you woke up at 7 or 8 am.  Or having to discuss whether you should organize your 25 boxes of books on the shelves by authors' last names or by genre, and if by genre, how many sub-genres you wanted to break it down by because you can no longer sort them by the books you've read and the books you haven't read yet.

Yesterday I told my dad he needed to look out for our marriage certificate because we accidentally sent it there instead of our apartment, and he told me, by the way, that he and my family were going on vacation with my cousins and aunt and uncle for the next few days, so if I needed them and called home, they won't be home.

That ripple was a little stronger than I anticipated.  My family was going on our traditional annual vacation and they were going without me.  I don't think I would have even known about it until after the fact if I hadn't emailed my dad.  Talk about marriage becoming a reality.

Of course, it didn't help that my sister called me out of the blue for a silly favor and sounded like she and my family were having such a grand ol' time in the background.  It was a classic tv series moment.  I had a bad case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) after that.

Like I said, it's sometimes the small ripples that seem to make the rubber meet the road, not this sudden revelation of reality like someone had clubbed you with a bag of bricks.  I'm not bitter or wishing things were different.  It's just me coming to grips, that's all.

Marriage so far is just what I sort of anticipated so far - not very glamorous or easy, but a learning process that has its pretty sweet aspects and moments, too.  I've been blessed with a good husband and I'm excited about the wonderful story we're writing together simply by being each other's partners and companions and living out our lives as best as we can in following and obeying the Lord.

I may not be in Kansas anymore, but this world is suddenly more colorful, and I'm taking a deep breath as I explore these new hues and shades.  And maybe I'll let a grin emerge on my face along the way.