1035 days and counting....

Almost three years ago I married my best friend. It has been an adventure for sure. He never fails to make me laugh, cheer me up and show me love. Of course, sometimes there isn't anyone who can make me more angry. But these times are few. I love his patience. I love his wisdom. I love his guidence. I love the ridiculous faces that he makes for me, that I know no one else gets to see. My husband, Caleb, is a goofball--and I love him to death. 

Our story is common, I'm sure. We met at school. We were friends for a while, until we both suddenly realized how much we enjoyed each other's company. Before the semester's end (before I went back home to AZ), we pulled three all-nighters in a row, just so we could see each other more. We stayed up talking, laughing, listening to music. At one point we made homemade ice cream...it turned out terrible (note: if you don't have milk--dont substitute with rice milk. If you don't have sugar--don't substitute with splenda. If you don't have vanilla--don't use rum extract. But if you must, have a roommate willing to eat it all). 

During the summer, I travelled a lot. AZ to Germany to Austria to Belgium to AZ to San Diego to AZ to the mountains up north. We talked a lot on the phone. We emailed even more. Caleb decided that he was going to hop on a Greyhound to see me at the end of summer and we'd travel back to school together when the semester started. I was so nervous--I liked him...I knew he liked me...but neither of us had said it. It still wasn't said until the day after we returned to Missouri for school. That's when we decided to date. 

The day after we decided to date....I broke up with him. Yes, I was ridiculous. I had always been overly cautious of my heart. After my last break up especially. I was so afraid to take a chance, that instead I was opting for running away from the most amazing person God was putting in front of me. Thankfully, after a phone call from my momma, and her calling me out on my fear, I decided to call Caleb to meet me. I ran out of my dorm when he came. I fell into his arms crying and told him I didn't want to run away from him. He wrapped his arms around me and I knew I had done the best thing I could have. 

Fast forward two eventful years of ups and downs and more ups, with learning and growing and loving--we were married. I knew I was going to marry him after two months of dating. Marriage so far has been a beautiful challenge. We challenge each other in our weaknesses and encourage each other in our strengths. We help each other grow closer to God. It's our hope to resemble God's love for us and our love for him (Eph. 5:21-33). I'm excited to see what the rest of our lives bring for us. 

Photos by Rachel

At The Farm at South Mountain

Wanderlust

Vagabond. Gypsy. Wanderer. Traveller. Explorer. Drifter. There is something romantic about these. The aimless adventurer, continually decamped, no ties to a particular place or people... But I wonder what exactly draws us to this notion of drifting; what is so very attractive about it. There is definitely a concept of freedom that is tied to the idea of not having to stay in one place, to go where you please, eat and drink where and what you want, to not have to answer to anyone. There is also the sense of adventure in discovering something, whether it be a new place, new people, beautiful sights or simply, and maybe mostly, a sense of self-discovery. I think that may be at the heart of it. In the romanticism of the wanderer, we find at its roots a pursuit of self-discovery and self-truths, and I fear a fair amount of self-worship. 

Is this freedom and discovery rooted in truth (or in the mindset of the drifter, does truth really matter)? They set their own rules, own ethics, their own guiding values, perhaps never realizing that it is perhaps selfishness that fuels everything they do. To be guided by what you want or don't want, what you like or don't like, and if something doesn't fit quite right, you excuse it, leave it, pretend it's not there, run away. You think that it's on the account of your own two feet that you have done this or that, gone here or there. You think you're in control. The vagabond is blind. We are always pursued and there is one always in control. He supersedes our will, our self discovery, our freedom to run away. His purpose is greater than any other we can figure out for ourselves. And try as we might to run further from this truth, I believe that deep down there is a restless nagging... Even if we suppress it, I believe that it is there. A deep aching in our gut for the truth that only God can satisfy. We try to fill it with beauty, with discovery, with the philosophies of life that we can muster, but they are all lacking. For what are beauty, creation, and the wonders of the world, aside from a reflection of the one who's careful design and creativity put them into place? Likewise, what are we, aside from Hiscreation, with a choice to praise His artistry, His mercy and love, and the fact that He is, has been and always will be? 

We run because we don't want to surrender control. We like being on the thrones of our lives. The problem is, it's a false sense of control. We are left dissatisfied and still hungry, as if we have quenched our appetites with a pinch of salt, and quiet the aching in our bellies with the racket of cymbals and gongs--anything to hush the realization that we cannot make ourselves whole. Yet if we surrender our selfishness, surrender our fear and misguided "freedom"...if we can admit to being needy, to being broken, to a need to be cradled...if we can be honest and humble before the Lord--He will satisfy, heal, make us whole, bring true freedom. 

Into My Own

ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day	5
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track	10
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

One of my favorite poets is Robert Frost. There is a simple, soft elegance in the way he turns a phrase. I love the way he brings things back to nature while incorporating the message he's trying to get across. This has been, for a long time now, my favorite poem. It's the poem for my life. When I read it I think back on my twenty-six years and see where I've been and where God's taken me. I remember being the insecure girl in school. I remember finding my voice through writing and art, and translating my thoughts into something coherent. I recall the many stages of my life...the changing of scenery, friends, family, beliefs. My faith has grown solid and resonates with the third and fourth stanza. Friends, even family have seen this change in the past eight years, and wonder at it. Some feel as though they don't relate, or they want the old Kelly back. There is no turning back. This is the path that is before me and I'm "only more sure of all I thought was true". I don't know where God is going to take me in my life, but I know where he has taken others in the past that followed Him faithfully. There are no guarantees of comfort, safety, security or riches in this life. But those are not my concerns. Of course it is my hope that others "set forth upon my track", that they know the truth and love Him. This is my life's work, to love my Savior and follow him "unto the edge of doom."