Lessons from a Clock

"Tick tock. Tick tock.
Who's afraid of an old dead clock?"
            - Peter Pan, in Hook


- - -

The battery went out in our clock today. It is a large, wooden clock that hangs over the sofa in our living room. I was sitting there directly underneath it, on the sofa reading a book, lulled by the sound of its parts functioning properly... and then nothing. The batteries were not old. I briefly entertained thoughts of somehow maiming the Energizer bunny, and then calmly proceeded to change the batteries. Good as new.

- - -

Such a small thing to happen. Entirely mundane. Every day, common, miniscule. You take the clock off the wall, you change the batteries, you check the time, you move on. But in that small thing, there was a bigger metaphor that came alive in my heart. It pertains to a thought I've been interrupted by lately, especially when I'm at work talking with particular customers, or when I'm sitting alone drinking coffee.

- - -

I keep on hearing from people lately that I am still so young. What's interesting is when I hear people say this. I hear people say this when I talk of considering options before making plans, or when I mention the word "budget"... when I talk about how I'm trying to eat healthy, and when I talk about things Tim and I would like to do someday, or places we'd like to see.

And I concede the point, that my birth date was 1984. I am young, according to the New York Times. Thank you. My generation is alive, but I wonder... are we well?

- - -

Someday, my clock - your clock - our clocks - will all stop ticking. We will be no longer on this earth, no matter the range of our battery life (if you will)... and there will be a moment that is empty and quiet.

I will always be young, according to someone. There will always be people older, whether I am 27 or 100 years old. This should not be relevant to the prayers I pray, the frugality I seek to practice, the dreams I commit to the Lord, the plans I am hesitant to make. My moments are still to be lived with just as much deliberateness and passion as if I were 100 years old and destined to pass from this earth tomorrow. Youth is irrelevant. Age is irrelevant. I seek the truth and peace that comes with a feeling of purpose in this moment, and a full understanding of who Christ is in my life today.

This means that I must continue praying for wisdom, as I make my plans. I need to continue trying to make wise investments with my money. I need to continue committing my dreams to the Lord, holding back no appeal as I ache for things to happen in my life. In Christ, we all are called to live freely but only as we abide in Him - with no regard for our age, but with all regard for the power and abundant life of purpose that He offers to each and every moment that our clocks continue ticking.

- - -

I am grateful for the small reminders that keep me learning who He is, and what He expects of us... what He offers us. Taking nothing for granted - especially not my youth - I can pray daily that Christ would mold my Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays into exactly what He would have them be. Let Him determine my steps, fulfill my dreams, open the doors of my life and lead me to where He is, offering fullness of joy. Regardless of my age. My battery life.

I am called to daily seek Him, in everything.

Even if that means learning lessons from a clock.

perpetually me

Some things just always stay the same. In a world where everything is constantly changing, being built, being torn down, being renovated, or becoming extinct... it is amazing how some things seem to simply resist change. They are forever the same, they seem to exist outside of condition's reach. It's fascinating.

Our God is that way. Never changing, solid Rock, unwavering, our Cornerstone. Who He is does not change.

Certain themes are also this way... themes that coax along our stories, themes such as love, hope, faith, and joy. They are always present in this world, whether or not we feel them. They do not change in their supply or their demand, nor do they ever cease to exist. These things are perpetual, and we are glad of their redeeming constancy in our lives.

And I am finding out that there are parts of me that are this way, too... Never changing, always constant, resistant to change, and sometimes seeming to be frustratingly out of redemption's reach. I am, for the better and the worse, perpetually me. It doesn't really matter that there is now a wedding band on my finger - that I've changed my name, changed my address, changed my economic status. For all the "large" changes that my life has undergone in the past year, I am still the same Lauren that I have always been.

Shocker.

But seriously... this is a huge thing to discover about oneself. It's also a huge thing to discover about one's spouse, about God, and about those pieces of all of our true identities that we just might have forsaken along the way.

If you, gracious reader, will allow me... I shall explain.

- - -

When I was in Kindergarten, I had a really wonderful teacher named Mrs. Wocjak. I got along with her just fine, I respected her in the fully trusting way a six-year-old exhibits best... until the day she put me in time out for something I didn't do. To this day, age 27, I remember how hard I cried that afternoon, sitting in time-out while the rest of my classmates remained blissfully ignorant to the ethical dilemma present in my current situation... I remember how broken my heart was - not merely due to the misguided sentence she gave me (30 minutes of cherished, invaluable playtime surrendered to the "time-out-tub"), but also due to the fact that this was my first cognizant encounter with injustice. I knew in my heart then (and I still know now) exactly what had happened, and exactly what had not happened - but no matter what I knew, I could not change her opinion of me - nor the judgement she had passed.

This is my first cognizant memory of realizing a broken heart within myself. It's truly pitiful and truly humorous all at once... but it has stuck indelibly in my mind. Whenever I feel like there's a situation I can't quite fix in my life... there I am, in Mrs. Wocjak's class, sitting in that time-out-tub all over again. Whenever there is a relationship lying estranged and suspended due to a misunderstanding... it's that feeling. That awful, empty, helpless feeling when your heart doesn't understand why something is happening, and cannot fix itself.

Sometimes I still feel that, even though my name has changed.

- - -

In the Spring of my 8th grade year, I was at one of my friend's houses, participating along with several other girls my age in our church's "Disciple Now Weekend". I remember sitting in the living room floor with so many of my peers, girls I wanted to emulate, girls who I wanted to like me... and I remember it so well, because that was the night people first found out that I could sing and play guitar. My face was red and my hands were shaking, but I remember feeling so happy and so discovered, that my friends had uncovered something special about me, something that I really had just started to cherish in my walk with the Lord... my ability to express things, to write them into songs, and to play them. For the next 10 years, my life and a lot of my reputation was tremendously impacted and often, largely kept in motion by the momentum proceeding from that day. I have a huge accumulated collection of memories that consist of touring, recording, writing, playing, and ministering to others through music.

And just last week, as I sat for my performance review at work, I felt that way all over again. My face got red, my hands started shaking... the constructive criticisms and praises like a fog around me, while my mind was simply wanting to know the answer to that question... am I doing this right? Am I doing this okay? Do these people like me? Am I contributing to this team in a way that is special and unique... am I doing okay, Lord?

Sometimes I still feel those things. When I am talking with Tim about things I'm reading... when I meet up with new friends for coffee, and start learning about them (and vice versa)... when I introduce myself to new people at my new church... when I have to speak my opinions and perspectives at our Pier 1 management meetings... when I walk out into the living room after an hour of getting ready for a date-night with my husband... in my heart, there's that barely noticeable fear that flutters through, wanting to be discovered, known, loved, liked... understood, and cherished.

It's still just me.

- - -

Some things just never change. That is both a great, safe, identifying thing to discover about oneself... and also a very humbling, often frustrating thing to discover about oneself. Coming into marriage, I'm fully convinced that expectations are at their absolute highest. Not only expectations of one's spouse, but also expectations of oneself. It's like a whole life's worth of New Years' Resolutions, piled up and offered at the altar... all the things that I've ever wanted to become, be better at, be less apt to do or emulate... all of that seems suddenly within reach, because this man and my union to him is going to make me into something whole and beautiful and awesome at all the things I'm currently not awesome at by myself.

- - -

I love to read. I could spend hours doing it, every single day for the rest of my life... and I would still get giddy with excitement every time I'd walk into a library and see how much left there still was to read.

I have never felt entirely comfortable with new situations. New freaks me out a little bit. A lot, actually. I feel most safe in the ebb of routine, and I start feeling uncomfortable when spontaneity is introduced. But I'm steady, and I'm a hard-worker, and I don't need a lot of crazy adventures to keep my heart feeling happy and alive.

I like quiet. I dislike R&B. I often cry as a first step to processing. My favorite thing about marriage so far is the absolute freedom to love and cling to my husband as a God-given fortress, protector, and friend. I am always self-conscious when I wear a new outfit for the first time. I am confident about my abilities to spell, to speak diplomatically, and to deal gracefully with customer service issues. I would lay down my life to protect my brother, Jason. I want to love and honor the Lord with all my heart, my soul, and my mind. I have no hope outside of His teaching me how to do those things.

This is who I am. Lauren Nicole McCuistion... Lauren Nicole O'Neill. A whole new life and lifestyle brought on by change, but still the same strengths and weaknesses. Still the same concept of happy, still the same ways of processing sadness. Same hobbies (with the addition of a few), same opinions, same memories and scars.

It's still all right here, in need of redemption. Created and designed in the image of a Creator - stamped by sin - cleansed by grace - daily trying to change, and to become more like the One who cleansed.

No matter that my name has changed... that is still the same. I am perpetually myself.

Thank the Lord... so is He.

counting joys

it's late, and i have to wake early tomorrow... but sleep eludes me. i have a phrase whispering through my thoughts, as i try to lay here praying about all that life held out to me this past week. it's a phrase that is dear to me, taken directly from one of my favorite verses in Scripture... count it all joy. and as i have been doing for over a decade, i am laying here in bed with my head on my pillow, but my mind a thousand miles from it, trying to figure out this art of counting joys.

- - -

James 1:2-4 says: "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

- - -

when i first read those phrases years ago, the idea of counting joys resonated so soundly in me that it has been a sort of anchor verse ever since. i have written poems about it. i have composed it into notes on a piano. in my heart, i have known joy, and at times i have had to fight for it. it's amazing, how much is packed into that simple phrase, when you really let it sink in for a few thousand days.

first... count it all.

this is, for me, the responsibility part of the phrase; to count it all. it seems to require an attention to detail, an acknowledgement of God's sovereignty over all.. an acknowledgement that there is nothing that goes on within my day that is outside the reach of His purpose and His plan. to count it all means that from the moment i wake up, until the moment i fall asleep, He cares about what is going on inside my head and inside my heart. every moment is an opportunity for growing closer to Him. from the little details to the big decisions, everything must be counted... all my thoughts, my actions - all must be discerned, accounted for, and ultimately surrendered.

some days, this feels tremendously easy. when i get my coffee in the morning, fit perfectly into clothes i feel good in, receive a promotion at work, get flowers from my husband, finally settle in for an evening in a freshly cleaned apartment... joy is easy to acknowledge when its found in flowers and coffee.

but then there inevitably comes a random Tuesday, when i wake up disoriented from bad dreams. i take my shower, go through all the daily morning routine, and head to work with my heart a bit heavier than i'd like. i have enough sense of God's presence to pray while i'm headed to work... but i still feel cloudy. discouraged. off. i try to work excellently... and i fail. i hit every red light on the way home, and we have somewhere to be at 7:00. when i change into different clothes, they don't look right. they don't feel right. nothing feels right. bring out the kleenex.

joy is not so easy to find when it's underneath all the mess... but it's there. it has always been there.

He has always been there, in everything, enabling us to count everything as joy - not for the sake of attaining the joy itself - but for the sake of knowing Him closer in those moments, who is the source of Joy.

so when we run into what we think is a wall... when conversations go awry. when things don't go as planned. when goodbyes are said much too often.

all of it, if counted, will produce good things in us. for joy, whose root is faith, will grow and produce endurance in us. and that endurance will without fail, make us complete... perfect, lacking nothing. whole.

- - -

counting joys is a very relaxing thing to do, when it's 1:25 a.m. and you are ruminating over all yesterday's minutes. for all the wonderful minutes, i am thankful... and for all the other minutes too.

Lord, that every minute could be counted as unto You... that You could continue impressing on my heart the art of perceiving, of partaking, of acknowledging, and of surrendering... the art of counting all these things as joy.

fire and water

Tonight is one of those nights.

Maybe it's just because I'm tired. Our store is going through some transitions this month that are allowing me to work many more hours than usual... which is a benefit to my bank accounts, but charges a high tax on my flesh and bones. My senses are abnormally active; alert to the inertia of all that this week has effected upon them, and preparing for more movement to come tomorrow.

Or maybe it's because the weather today inspired me to think about things to come... all that must be planned for, all the potential that this next season might bring; blooms and breezes marched boldly into Franklin today, taking productivity as its captive, and everyone I came in contact with was in some degree infected with Spring fever... in sickness or health, loveliness waltzed on the breeze, and I make no exaggeration.

But tired though I may be, and assailed by Springtime fevers, these are not the cause for the state of my mind in this moment - nor the state of my heart. It's one of those nights when my spirit, my very soul, seems alert to His voice... and I do, in a way words cannot describe, sense His presence. It's one of those nights when the breath of Heaven reaches down, reaches in, and makes things new.

It's one of those moments when no matter what comes tomorrow, I for now find my rest in the shelter of His wings.

- - -

We (Tim and I) just returned from a mid-week Bible study of sorts, and I feel the fire in my bones that Jeremiah described so accurately. Tonight's study was the first of a six week course on the armor of God and this war we are in... yet ironically, the discussion of war and swords and shields left me feeling anything but a fight within my heart. Being in a safe place with other believers finally - digging into Scripture with them, taking notes about our common enemy's tactics and plans to destroy... all of this left me feeling more at home, more safe, than I have felt in six months. Tim and I have finally found our church home here in Nashville, and although this discovery is new, it has already bolstered us by the hope it brings with it.

Moving here in August was one of the best decisions of my life. I came to Nashville as a happy new wife, unemployed, optimistic, anticipating, hoping... but I also came timidly, and always just as scared of those perpetual unknowns before me. I was scared of losing the Monday nights with my family; seeing their faces without age every week, playing board games and speaking of reality in complete safety. I was scared of losing those small group times on Thursday nights, and of forgoing those coffee breaks with Anna, those lunches with Angela... those much needed times of accountability and encouragement, to keep me bolstered. Although my love for Tim had me feeling all but invincible, still in my heart I feared the loneliness that might assuage me when he was out on the road... where would my home be, then? Community... something vital and huge that I was suddenly without, but what could I do? I brought with me 27 years of memories and history - yet no one here even knows my maiden name.

I have been continually encouraged by wise people in my life who remind me that these things take time... roots do not grow overnight, nor does a garden. Friendships will blossom just as flowers do, and a home will be built upon this soil, one season at a time... But even with all that wise perspective, I am so relieved that Tim and I have found a church home.

Tonight, our new pastor brought up an interesting point, which I had never thought about before:

In this war we are in - this battle against the powers of darkness, not against mere flesh and blood - he challenged us to think twice before we merely fought fire with fire, as the saying goes. Such a common piece of advice we humans offer one another - yet it is so not of Christ! When a building is on fire, a fireman does not put out the flames of that building by lighting another fire nearby... no; the fireman puts out the flames with water. How many times in Scripture does Christ juxtapose our common instinct with His divine instruction?

- He challenges us to walk two miles if someone asks us to walk one.

- He challenges us to love our enemies when they hate us.

- He challenges us to give a kind response when we are offered wrath.

- He challenges us to put others before ourselves.

- He challenges us to forgive those who have wronged us.

- He challenges us to lean not our own understanding.

In my day to day life, if I walk around prepared to fight fire with fire every time I am put into the flames... I will be burned alive.

Instead, Christ commands us to love as He has first loved us... for by this love, He overcame the world. All the powers within it, the rulers of darkness - they are unmatched, if pushed upon and fought against by the same love that is Christ and is within His blood. In fact, it is the only thing that will overcome this world. We who are merely flesh and bone are too weak to fight fire with fire - with that as our recourse, we will surely burn up, and become just as our enemies who stumble into the flames.

But to become water as He is our living water, and to quench the flames of this world by being the bearers of relief from eternal thirst... to overcome hate with love... by these swords and shields, we will overcome.

It's one of those nights when I am relieved...

My soul is relieved, to be on the winning side. No height, nor depth, nor rulers, nor powers of this earth can separate me from underneath this shelter of His wings.

wrestling with writing

On sunny days, from the hours of eight a.m. to eleven a.m., the balcony of our apartment is pervaded with warm light. I have discovered the exact science of this just recently, and it has already brought me much joy. As the seasons change, I'm anxious to see how my current joy will be affected - but for now, in this warm light, I am content.

Although it is Sunday morning, I am not in a church building. My immune system has been wrestling out of a strong cold's vice for almost two weeks now, so rest is my worship music this morning... and this patio, my church building. As I feel the sun on my skin, and I hear the birds and dogs making music around me - I wonder that this should be quite enough this morning... for I sense the Lord's presence here, in my heart. Every breeze, every sound, every bit of pleasure in this moment is because He has given life, to me - and as I sit and think on these things, that He is real and well and moving, my heartbeat worships in a way that is all its own.

- - -

Apparently, one of my email accounts was hacked into this past week, by some computer over in France. For many obvious reasons, this freaked me out... issues of financial compromise and identity theft, invasion of privacy, creepiness of actually being hacked, etc. These things, I dealt with immediately. But in addition, I realized that the content of my blog was potentially at risk as well. Sure enough, I typed in the link for my blog, and found that it had apparently been removed. Oh, the terror... Everything is fixed and fine now, and all the necessary changes have been made - but let's hope that never happens again.

When I was backing up all my files, I realized that I had four years worth of content on this blog... four years. When everything is transferred to a Word document, it takes up 170 pages. I had no idea - and that's just four years of the internet-based material. I've got 23 years more, sitting in journals, files, papers, strewn throughout this 1,200 sq. ft. apartment I call home... in less than 5 minutes, this epiphany crawled its way into my Top 10.

As I was scrolling down and down on my new, saved, backed-up-twice Word document... that tiny, ludicrous idea entered my mind, yet again.

Lauren, you have GOT to stop being scared... you know you want to try this. Now, buck up, and let's figure out if you need to do this. Let's just try... let's see if you need to write a book.

... Yeah right.

I then shut my computer, went into the kitchen, and poured myself an ice cold Dr. Pepper. I turned on the TV, browsed through NetFlix for probably about 15 minutes... ended up choosing some lousy British chic flic, which I was bored with in three minutes. Frustratedly, I changed into a different pair of pajama pants, put my hair back in a (very short and stubby) ponytail, and again continued my search of entertainment. After another two minutes, I turned off the TV, got out a book, and started to read.

The book I'm reading, ironically enough, is a memoir... By a girl named Lauren. It is really good, and it is reminiscent of Donald Miller's "Blue Like Jazz". I've been totally into it, taking notes, imagining who in the world these normal people are that write books like this, and wondering if they realized that they needed to write a book when they found that they had 160+ pages of their life written out already... and I wonder if they felt this terror.

Also ironically, is the fact that five years ago, I wrote some lyrics that state quite simply from what I thought at the time was personal experience:

"Out on the limb is where the fruit is found...

And the view is better, higher off the ground.

Lord, please relieve me from these fears,

to which I'm bound...

Help me tear these walls down -

Or teach me how to fly."

- - -

Whether or not I like it, the rumblings are getting harder to ignore. Whether or not it is convenient to recognize, I do have quite a bit of un-utilized time on my hands lately... and I do like to write, and I do have a Savior, a life, and other content that I enjoy writing about. I like the smell of books, and I refuse to buy a Kindle. I grow by reading books - and I think about who wrote them, and I wish sometimes that I could meet them for coffee and ask them questions.

And it goes much deeper than that. From second grade when I won my first poetry contest, through middle school when I learned how to put lyrics to music, through college when I began to blog about life's largeness, and now as a married woman who seeks to still share her life with the people back home... the Lord has always felt nearest, when I have a pen in my hand. It doesn't get much more simplified than that.

Whether or not I choose to really see all this, is entirely up to me... it's a lot of freedom, and I'm grateful that such a thing would not be forced on me.

But let's face it... even through the terror of exposing my heart to the world, all the people I love, the people who don't like me, the people who think books are stupid, and the awareness of all the red-tape that I may find, and the gauntlet of all the unknowns I may face... I really want to try and see what I'm up against. I want to test the waters for one reason only - that if I uncover something worth writing in the process of trying to, then I have grown - and I have nothing to lose. Who knows, who cares... but here goes nothin'.

Thanks for reading,

Lauren

"together"

earlier this afternoon, my husband got on a plane headed to oregon. he's often doing that - getting on and off of planes, packing and unpacking, coming and going. travel is a major part of his job and his ministry, and i have to say - he's extremely well-suited for the lifestyle... he's kinda awesome at it, actually. the frequent goodbyes are definitely NOT my favorite - but the great thing about Tim's job is that when he does come back home to me, he really is completely home. when he's not traveling, he works mostly in his office here at our apartment, so i have the privilege of witnessing him as he does his job. i'm learning more daily, what a privilege that is.

for the past month and a half (with the exception of a couple days), we've been together pretttty much 24/7. it's been wonderful. it's been strange! it's been entirely rewarding, and also at moments very challenging. we're nearing our 6 month anniversary of being married, and our 1 year anniversary of knowing each other even existed on this planet... so we are extremely new at this "living with another individual just as set in their ways as i am" facet of marriage! and it has been increasingly evident in our discussions and interactions over the past few weeks, that we are just now really beginning to understand the divine joy and responsibility of what we've committed to for the next _____ years.

- - -

as we were doing our devotions a few mornings ago, we got to discussing our "together" life as a couple versus our "independent" lives as individuals... and i've been thinking about it a lot over the past few days. i've been thinking about what my life is when he's away, and what his life is when i'm not present - and i've been thinking about how our lives were a year ago, and how did i bear it?! but mostly, i've been thinking about our life together now, and how in the world to make the most of those days when he is here with me. when he left for the airport today, and i felt that relentless tug of missing him at the very moment of goodbye, i realized how much i have already grown accustomed to being one half of the whole that we are. after 27 years of being independent, i find it shocking how much of me he takes with him when i kiss him goodbye.

- - -

as a single girl, i lived on my own for several years. there are certain parts of living alone that really stand out to me now... the way the bathrooms were always exactly as clean as i wanted them, the way my favorite cd's played incessantly with no interference, my absurdly low utility bills (and my bills in general). i cooked for one, cleaned for one, made spending allowances for one, and made decisions as one. i paid no attention to how girly my wall decor was, or how feminine certain candles smelled... nor did i consider whether there was enough variety of meats in my weekly meal plans, or whether someone else had already used that tomato i needed. it was just me, doing things the only way i knew, enjoying things the only way i knew how to, and working through life at the only pace and speed i've ever worked.

there is freedom in that for a while, but then there also became a panic as well, the more time went by. in deep corners of my heart, i started wrestling with the fear that maybe by the time i got married (if i ever even got married), i would find the transition difficult... that it would be too late to change, and maybe i wouldn't even have realized all these years that i did "so and so" the wrong way, or that "so and so" was the incorrect way to view a situation, and what if "so and so" was a crooked, emotionally stunted way of working through life's problems... and what if my parents did something wrong, but none of us knew it, and what if i turn out to be just awful at marriage, despite my best intentions?

and the truth is - there have been some things that have been challenging. we both lived lives that we enjoyed, before we met one another - weaving all those perspectives and experiences together is a task for skillful hands, and we have only just begun learning to spin the thread! there have also been those arguments that were later found to be senseless and petty, as a direct result of those behaviors i had developed or tim had developed before we met... and there always are. daily, we both grasp at God's grace - together, and as individuals - so we can love each other better. it is paying off, moment by moment... and we are building this home, brick by brick.

- - -

last night, we went to dinner and a movie as 'Part 1' of our first Valentine's day together... after a perfect evening, as we walked back to our car through the spitting snow, something just went wrong - who knows. one moment we were the most delightful lovebirds in the city, the next moment we are at our worst... and it's so common, no matter who the couple is, or how long you've been married - in a flash, pride inserts itself and there is no room for love. the apostle Paul phrased it perfectly when he said in Romans 7:15 "For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate." ... exactly. and it's in those moments when i feel it most - how much i love this man, yet how strange he is to me - and with all my being, i want to find a way to be better at loving him... seeing him, understanding him, supporting him - casting my pride to its death, if that is what it takes to get better at this.

in the truest of ways, is this not what Christ calls of us during our days, our years, our lives - that we love Him enough, that we trust Him enough, to lay down our pride for the sake of loving Him better? i will never be the wife that tim needs if i am not first a woman that has learned how to surrender my pride, for the sake of loving Christ and serving Him better with a clean heart.

- - -

by the end of the hour (as most often proves to be the case for newlywed lovebirds such as we are), amends had been made, confusion had lifted, hearts were understood, and love again reigned in our home... it's a direct result of being married to an amazing guy. we finished the evening out with a couple episodes of 'LOST', and slept peacefully through the night - and i woke up this morning, never having loved my husband more. as i go to sleep tonight without him, i'm praying to a God who knows us both, that He will continue teaching me to be better at this thing called "together". i'm confident that He who began this good work, will complete it... for the glory of His name.

where you lead...

yesterday, i worked the morning shift at Pier 1 - when i walked outside at 2:00, the sun and the breeze were both at their best (in tandem), and i was excited about being done with work for the day. the whole afternoon and evening stretched in front of me, and my thoughts were simply and fully consumed with lunch possibilities. i drove the 1.25 miles home, meandered up the steps, walked through the front door... put my keys on the counter, set my purse down, and Tim walked up to me and said the following:

"okay... i need you to trust me, and i need you to not ask me any questions, and i need you to go pack a bag..."

UMM.... what?!?! immediately, i wanted to ask questions, but i was able to get by with only asking two - two very reasonable questions that i thought he would accept: 1. do i need to pack anything dressy? 2. do my toiletries need to fit in a quart-sized plastic bag...? his answers were emphatically: no and no. and so began the 30 minute scramble to scarf down some lunch, throw a bunch of random necessities into a suitcase, brush my teeth, and off we went.

- - -

we passed downtown. we passed the airport. we drove for a whole hour, and i was a good girl - not asking any questions, letting the lovely suspense carry my mind away. after over an hour of driving, we pulled off at this random exit. at this point, i assumed we were grabbing some sustenance for the remainder of a drive which i had begun to think would lead us to knoxville.

wrong.

he starts looking at his phone a lot, and then pulls into this random grocery store - telling me that i cannot come inside with him. after sitting in the car for 5 minutes, watching him run back to the car with grocery bags behind his back, and getting back on the road, i admit - my mind was BLOWN. knoxville was definitely not where were headed, and the mystery of all of it engulfed me.

we drove... and drove. we began to see cows and sheep, and signs for mennonite farms... the sound of gravel roads overcame the sounds of our conversation, and finally, finally... we pulled up to an iron gate with a sign that said "Cabin by the Pond".

... and cabin by the pond, it was.

complete with fireplace, hammock, wooden rocking chairs, gazebo, fishing dock, a grill, and let us not forget the trademark deer head mounted over the mantle. Tim also brought a duffle bag full of snacks, food, board games, movies, and even a flashlight for our nighttime trek to the pond... the man thinks of everything, seriously. no phone service, no internet... just a 5 month anniversary, and the love of my life. yes, please. talk about making a girl feel special :)

- - -

i share this little story in detail because when we first arrived, and i saw all the thought that Tim had put into this (and no doubt, the hours of research as well), there was one moment when i was looking at him and it made me really think about how much he was loving me as Christ loves His bride...

before Tim gave me this adventure, this week was planned as nothing special. it was not going to be anything extraordinary - just two normal people living normal days... and we were fine with that. but Tim offered me something more, and he took me there with him - just as Christ calls us out of our mundane, and rescues us into something fuller and sweeter, and more purposeful.

it was a thoughtful gesture, and yes, Tim gets hundreds of points for this endeavor ;) but ultimately, it opened my eyes to yet another way that love can exist and be shown - not just between two people who are trying to figure all this marriage stuff out, but also from Christ to each one of us... by rescuing us out, telling us to pack our bags, and follow Him into grand adventures that He has fully planned out just for us.

when i was laying out in the hammock this morning, reading a book before we had to leave... i felt really, really happy. we will definitely go back someday - but until we do, i have memories to keep me feeling full for quite a while.