He smiled back at me and said in his most calming voice, “Sweetie, no! I choose you! I chose you… and I will everyday for the rest of my life. I will choose you and this home you are making for us, every. day.”

And then I cried harder and he laughed and then I laughed and then we hugged and then we got married…or something like that.

My name is Nicole M. Paullin Bressler. That’s what my email signature is—so it must be at the very least semi-official. Of course after what happened yesterday afternoon, I became as official as I’ll ever be when I ordered my new social security card and drivers license.  For the record it reads the name my parents gave me, and the name that Trey gave me.

I wish I could go back and remember every detail of our chilly November weekend in our year of the Lord; the gold pumpkin painting with my besties and their men, the pumpki-tini making. I wish I had recorded Sheree faceplanting into the wall right before Mark picked up Trey to do their civic duty in downtown Leesburg. Waking up in between my mom and my best friend in that overly warm king size bed to snores and giggles.

I wish I could bottle up every feeling of excitement and question in those last days leading up to the best day…the way I woke Trey up in the middle of the night (multiple times) to ask if he was still as sure as he was the day he asked me to be his wife, or even the night he told me he chose me. He always replied, “More. Baby, I’m more sure now.” And so in his confidence, I was carried into a life I never dreamed was ever possible for me.

tangent: I just stopped typing to look at my rings, I love my engagement ring and the story behind our diamond as the journey solidified our commitment to one another. But what I love far more is the band that is sitting closer to my heart and knowing that it has sealed me from now and everyday after for the rest of my life to a man who prayed just as much for me as I did for him.

Back on track: My worlds collided that weekend. I had friends from every stage of my life surrounding me with the same love they’ve always so freely given. My God- how humbling. Behold: this gift that words will never give adequate justice to. To these women who have prayed for a man like Trey, He heard you. How, for so long you had the faith I didn’t. I didn’t get it until I was standing there with you at my side, and your hands on ours. I just didn’t get it.  …but I do, so much, now.

And I read through the journal that thousands of my words and tears prayed fervently for him, that “he” would CHOOSE ME. But it didn’t seem real, that this was actually happening. This actually happened!

Friday after the rehearsal dinner, my best answer to my very best prayer walked me to my room to say good night. And even then, I asked him to promise me that he’d be waiting for me on Saturday in his tuxedo and shiny shoes. And we prayed that this life would be all that we were expecting and so much more.

And on Saturday when I saw him in those shiny shiny shoes, I said these words “I’m ready…” Before reading this, he thought I was talking about the dress, the hair, the make-up, THE SHOES etc. But now he’ll know forever that I was ready for him. I was ready for God to give me to him entirely, unveiling me like the creation I was meant to be, my heart dancing and rejoicing after waiting so long. And in that moment our eyes locked and my Trey went weak in the knees—for me.  Seriously, my Trey, went weak in the knees.  And I got it, the rest that so long I’d been searching for and in that, a true understanding that my life has more purpose and worth now than it ever had before—to live not only for myself, but another being and the for most perfect Lord that ordained this union before we were even born. And so we hugged and cried the sweetest, quietest tears of reality in this gift from our Savior. Our day was here. And our life has since begun.

So I write the quick details I don’t ever want to forget: my mom putting her diamond that my father gave her 35 years ago around my neck, my sister fluffing my dress, my girls getting as primped and princessed in my deep gratitude for all they have been along the years. My nieces, trying on my dress. My nephews sitting patiently, running playfully. And God I pray that our love would be an example to them of what marriage is—give us that kind of love! Spending the moment with my dad right before I walked out of the house, holding his hand so tightly as we walked down the aisle. Neil talking about my shoe obsession in his sermon. My brokenness being restored as I served my mother and father communion, and then his mother and father. In my life, I’ve never shed such intimate and humbling tears. Behold- this humility. Behold- this intimacy.

I’m praying a challenge to myself that this marriage would show me every day if nothing else, this same kind of humility and intimacy. That I would serve my husband with honor, and strength, and dignity as he loves me so delicately and purely.

Oh what a beautiful gift, the happily ever Bresslers.

xoxo,
Mrs. Bressler

copyright Brinn Willis, Almira B Photography, 2015

ps. view other pictures from our day by our AMAZING friend and photographer, Brinn Willis, owner of Almira B Photography, here.

and pps. I’m having wedding planning withdrawals already.  If you know of someone who needs help, send them my way!

Work is hard.  It’s deep and overwhelming and fulfilling and sad and exciting and so much more that I don’t even know where to start.  And so I place one hand on my beating heart and beg it to slow down.  I move my fingers over my eyes that are finally crying tears as I deal with a life I didn’t see coming, as I fight the good kinds of fear that my year of adventure in the chance and unknowns is bringing.  Because I’ve wanted this and didn’t know just how badly I did.  And somehow God’s answers though true and right, they’re not at all what I expected.  And the goosebumps that still linger after a day full of vulnerability and fear give me peace and surprisingly, more trust.  The innocent voice that spoke deeply to my devoted heart, “Miss Paullin, Miss Paullin,” gives me assurance.  And the mentors that call me their “new favorite person” give me inspiration.  The plane tickets that read my name and his, give me excitement…and the dates on the calendar that bring me to my girls are giving me support even before I am able to feel their arms holding me…

there are new things to get used to:

• voices that say, “Hi, Miss Paullin…”
• wearing heels for 7.5+ hours because the other voices will indeed say, “Did you see Miss Paullin’s shoes today?!”
• little hands begging to hold mine
• trusting eyes looking for love that I pray I’m somewhat good enough to give
• Making lunch the night before
• Picking out which shoes to wear…the night before.
• Blow drying my hair… the night before.
• kissing him…the night before….and maybe also the night after.
• fear that doesn’t chase me away
• fear that slows me down
• fear that teaches me to breathe
• fear that insists on carrying me home…

…and wasn’t there something in the mid-nineties about no fear?

but I’m sort of liking it…I like those voices in the lunchroom that are so loud I can’t hear myself think.  And I like that I heard about my shoes 4 times today..and I liked those little hands that had me tying shoes, and eyes that lit up when they heard me speak a 6 year old equivalent of “foreign language.”  And unfortunately, I’m so disgusted and embarrassed to say that I really did like my lunch of doritos and diet coke.  I sort of liked the fact that I ran late, because the shoes that got 4 compliments were exactly the right ones.  and I like that the kiss tonight was even better because there actually wasn’t one last night.

And the fear, it says, “Nic, just wait here.  Stop being the you that keeps you back there and be the you that moves you over here…breathe through that dream that’s just made you numb…and wait. just wait; I’ll carry you home.”

You know, I have this thing for middle school, pre-pubescent kids (please read that without the child-molestor insinuation I’m sure it inferred…).  But I do, this thing, this love… this passion.  And I find that the drive comes from an opportunity that is so great, the one that says, “Hey, let me let God breathe hope and inspiration into your soul..” and so I do, in the process praying with everything that I am, that these kids would find their identities with confidence and self-love, security, and a whole latta hope.

Because there needs to be more hope in every single second of every single day, to change for the better and for the now.

If you would prepare your heart, and stretch out your hands toward Him…then surely you could lift up your face, yes, you could be steadfast, and not fear, because you would forget your misery and remember it as waters that have passed away.  And your life would be brighter than noonday…and you would be secure because there is hope… (excerpts from Job 11, NKJV)

and I find love in this sweet deliverance, my life in His hands, the ones that shaped me and formed me in the most fearful and wonderful way… and this is just me, secured with hope.

You all have found me and have known me in similar ways through millions of words, thousands of smiles, hundreds of tears, and through a similar hope…but sometimes I get fearful that the writing has defined me..were there really thousands of smiles, or were there more tears?  Have I been too honest, or was I not honest enough?  These words that span across many, many pages, have they given enough of His love… not just for me, but more importantly for you..?  Wait- did I speak enough about Him?  Or too much about me??

I don’t want to be defined by my writing.  I want to be defined by my hope in Him through perseverance to victory.  I want to be recognized because I write from the heart to Him.  And yeah, it’s raw, and in the moment, sometimes dark.  But there are other times when it’s so bright.  And I’d rather be defined by that, because that’s where the hope has taken me.

So if you were to define me, I’d rather be embraced as His and not so much as a writer… I’d rather be identified as a real and genuine person that still sings a little badass every now and then because of all the spunk He gives me.  Because that’s what Hope has already defined in me: Confidence that says, look at me, I’m His and no one else’s.  And self-love that says, “you have great legs,” (actually that was someone else, but I like it, so it’s mine now).  And security, oh, it’s reassuring me time and time again that I’m in the most perfect place…

This hope is bringing me all sorts of excitement and even a few butterflies.

—

I’m bored right now.  Like, out of my mind bored.  The last few weeks with Pam gone was killing me… and my sound board that makes me laugh when I really want to laugh was gone too, and life was so colorless.  But God spoke to me through hours of prayer over them and their ministry.  He spoke about beautiful friendships and even the not so beautiful ones, ones that I question as I dig deep for tiny traces of hope that I trust are still there.  He reminded me that blessings come in the most opportune times, but also leave in the most inopportune times.  Hope is saying, “Nic, that’s okay.  You’re still mine.”

And I think that Hope has played the strongest role in my life as it anchors my soul– maybe Hope has taken over, in it’s own way allowing the time to pass so much faster as it brings me one step closer to this greatness I am so impatient to relive.

Today my life started over again in my morning breath that couldn’t wait for the panting that would so familiarly bring my feet to pavement.  And tomorrow it will start over again as I get excited for a good kiss.  And then on Wednesday, I might just let Hope give me another new beginning as I smile over life that’s just so fulfilling in every moment.

There’s a day though that Hope can’t bring soon enough.  And these every days that sometimes carry boredom in between irreprehensible happies are working their way to another day when my life will be redefined as I get to humbly relive purpose and greatness that aren’t mine, but His…and my life will RUN into it hardly looking back as Hope moves me faster than I can even fathom!  

No, for realsies, it’s about to start all over again.  28 days people!!  And then define me by my love for others.  Define me by my heart that cries with love and passion for my students to know their worth and value, to meet this hope so great…. 28 days to 800 little giggles and tiny hands that will run for me to hold with trust.  28 days to an office that I can call my own as words are spoken inside 4 walls as Hope listens…

Then, you can define me as Hope lifts me to the Love on top.  Oh wait, I already did….

I feel like writing because it’s me.  And I feel like writing with no idea where to start, except to where He leads.  I feel like throwing out the keyboard and grabbing my pen and red journal that has thousands of heartfelt words prayers and just going nuts as I sit and reflect on God’s movement.  But then I realize that my fingers are at home here; the place I’ve missed so much these last couple of months.  And so I sit here.  With some ice cold kombucha and my legs are crossed, my heart is opened and here. i. go.

He chose love.  So I’m starting today with Love.  It’s what I do.  and to be quite honest, I love to love.  My cousin commented on a picture I posted to Facebook yesterday…. she said, “so sweet to be loved!!”  Cousin, yes it is, YES it is.  But friends, I’ve learned that loving is sweeter.  Actually, I learned that a long time ago. I’m just relearning it now.

The sweetness, it comes simply once the choice is made–the choice to love.  And it isn’t always easy… but in the relearning of the greatness of love, I find one amazing Truth and with it the decision more doable, more willingly doable.  Who am I, to be Loved this way, and who is he?  who is she?  But we are… we don’t have to be, but He chose to Love.  So I choose to love too.  Because who am I to decide worthiness to love or not to love.  If we’re worthy of His Love, my sweet, sweet darlings, then I choose to love you again and again and again and THAT is my choice, my very best choice.  I will choose to love you forever…

Because…………You are worthy.  Cling to it because you are so worthy of it.  And when you can’t feel His, feel mine.

Cling to it, because it’s a forever thing that gets me through the hard days when my patience runs thin and the self doubt creeps up and the emotions bring desires that test faith.  There Love is holding my faith…slowing down the days when life is too busy for deep breaths, reminding me that patience is bringing Him glory and will deliver His glory… And Love, it holds you tightly when you want to run with goodness so that you can take in every moment of His glory…and my desire of love is to give, just to give.  My desire is to be loved, yes because it is so sweet, but because without it, I am nothing.  So, maybe just choose to love me too, again, sweet Love, choose me too.

—

There’s this song I keep listening too, not because I’m having a hard time holding onto Love but because it’s fun holding onto love.

So, cling to me
And I will be forever
And I will heal
And you will feel much better

You’ll feel much better

I have waited long
But never given up
I have waited on you
But never on love

 

Jennifer Knapp, “On Love”

I’m reading this book by Timothy Keller and it’s taking me back to this state of vulnerability where trust is all I have; where fulfillment comes from One… Brokenness is mine, and somehow the embracement of it is more fulfilling upon every thought.  It’s this brokenness that moves me to tears as I cry, “why me– so unworthy.”  And it hits me hard, like a mack truck, this depth of my spiritual thirst for Him, Him who brings redemption and grace and forgiveness and love, purity, wholeness–holiness.

So He blesses.  When I least deserve it, He blesses.  When I can’t feel any uglier, He blesses.  When I’m wandering, He blesses.  He empties Himself of the Glory so unfathomable to bless me, and this eternal thirst for Him.  I’m just so unworthy– but loved.

You are loved.  Nic, you. are.  loved.

—

My mommas.  My church mommas, you are the best women in my life.  As one put it tonight, they’re “the ones I’d call to help hide the body…”   And I don’t even know where to start with their love for me, of this “life” that I’m still in search of finding.  There’s so much love, the countless hours they spend listening to my rants, my “needs.”  God, I’m so unworthy!  They walk me through my simple and untamed rawness and find ways to mold it into the most beautiful growth.  God, I’m so unworthy.

And when I’m with them– the wisdom, it pours into my glass of red and I can’t help but drink it up like Napa Valley.

The talks of love and sex and dreams and reality– the laughter that surrounds and softens my guilt with recognition of gained maturity and forever lost youthful ideals, and that’s okay.  Spiritual warfare, conquered.  And we celebrate, they push me forward.  I like it.  I need it.  I want it.  Push me Momma’s, over the edge and into His arms…push me, Momma’s, just push!

And that deep and special affection sings three words over and over again, “You are loved.  You are loved.  You are loved.  You are loved.”  God, I’m just so loved.

…being shown how to turn our backs on godless, indulgent life, and how to take on a God-filled, God-honoring life.  THIS IS NEW LIFE STARTING RIGHT NOW…making us a people He can be proud of, energetic in goodness.

 

This gift has restored our relationship with Him and given us back our lives.  And there’s more life to come– an eternity of life!

 

<excerpts from Titus (The Message)>

So much life.  Life that’s loved…Keep pushing me Momma’s into that life that’s to come.

I wrote earlier this week of the inner beauty I’m seeing in my friends–His glory that’s so immeasurable.  And as I sit with these ladies, I feel unworthy, humbled, blessed.  Their friendship, their nurturing, their hopes, dreams, fears–all sung over me in this love of sweet mercies that I sometimes can’t handle….because of it’s magnitude of Him in them.  And oh, it’s so comforting, like socks for cold feet, like Spirit for my weary, sleep for the unrested.  and it’s so freakin’ everything I need, in them, through Him.  And I’m unworthy.

Who am I to be loved this way?

But still: You are loved.  You are loved.  You are loved.  You are loved.

I can’t think of a time that I ever wanted to “settle down.”  I mean, EVER.  And if you ask some of my closest friends–they’d be most surprised to hear you say that maybe I do…  they’re the ones who claim I’ll date for years, be engaged for longer, and have kids…maybe never.  But something’s changed and I. DO. (not settle down, but live more.)

Maybe it’s the life I’m living, wearing my yoga pants as I look in the rear view mirror to see a car seat with a sleeping child looking so peaceful.  Maybe it’s the new sense of listening; the eyes in the back of my head.  OR maybe it’s the trusting tears that come running to me with open hands for me to snuggle the hurting hearts and beat the horrible pains so far gone.  I think what it really is, is me coming to terms with adult-dom in the wake of a quarter life crisis that was dragging me away from the reality of “growing up,” tearing me away from finding the real me, the masterpiece of me.

I don’t have my “real” job yet.  And yes, we all know I’m not married, yet.  side note: I have a church momma who told her parents if she wasn’t married by thirty, she was getting artificially inseminated.  PG13 note-that doesn’t sound nearly as fun as being “unartificially” inseminated.  But God provided for her and I love knowing He’s providing for me too.  ps. no, I am not pregnant.  

Last night I had a dream that I was single and pregnant.  Somewhere in-between the feelings of shame and the hovering of guilt and selfishness, somewhere, somewhere, there was joy.  Because I’ve now reached “mamawanna” status and “live-my-life-for-you-with-you” status.  And that, that will someday, be my “real” job.  And that, that is where I find the joy knowing it’s for you, with you…

It’s not centered around being patient for the joy.  It’s centered around being ready for that joy while I live this joy.

I plan my Tuesdays around pre-school and nap time.  I strap the car seats because I feel an extra sense of security when they’re extra secured.  I snuggle.  I love…  and we all know, I was made to love.

But something is still missing as I maneuver through this joy in the waiting//I was created to love- and so the inerrant Word of God teaches, it was good…and the human me questions actually, was it?  I’ve been meditating on this:

God said, “It’s not good for the Man to be alone; I’ll make him a helper, a companion.

I’m praying a bold prayer here, being open a bold open, and saying–It is not good for me to be alone.  not now.  not anymore.  Where is are you, my companion?  Let me be…..with you, my companion.

<sips coffee….>

<…takes another sip of coffee>

<fingers slow down…typing becomes minimal>

Since when have I not been honest?  Since when have I not been bold?  Since when have I not claimed to love independence?  Or since when have I not known the greatness of my own heart?

It’s time.

<sips coffee.  again.>

My boy fun.  So you want to know why we “really” didn’t work out?  Because God did not make him MY helper, MY companion, YOU.  You want to know how I knew?  Because he didn’t want to live my heart the way I wanted to use my heart, for him.  And there it is.

And here I am.  I don’t stop and ask the what if’s anymore.  I don’t wonder why anymore.  And I sure as hell don’t get angry anymore.  There is no anger in love.  No joy in anger.  But in joy, in love, there is peace.  Peace.  Because I know my helper, I know my companion–and you are still being prepared to live MY heart as I use my heart, for you.  That’s the thing, it’s NOT good for me to be alone when I’m this ready to be yours…God made me for you.  I was made to love–not for me, but for you.  So yes, I am ready to find and live the joy for you, ready to live it with you.  It’s time for you to be ready already!

—

I know myself today more than I EVER have.  I’ve found me.  So many posts over the last year have brought me to this exact moment when I “sip coffee,” when I stop and see that in this moment is the most perfect me there has ever been.  God could not prepare me or my heart any more for you than in this moment, where I wait for the joy I get to live because of you.

I look at myself…like this.

and I finally see the masterpiece that was created in His image, for you.

<stops and stars at pearl ring…and thinks, thinks long, hard, thoughts including how it’s time to take the ring in for a good cleaning and diamond shining…>

My dad gave me this.

and on the day he did, he prayed the most precious prayer that has ever been sung over my life.  I don’t think I’ve ever been able to trust in his words until today–as I sit here loving ME in the joy that comes in being ready for you.

I don’t like to toot my own horn…really.  I say that because if you’re Facebook friends with me, you know I just did.

Here I go anyway.  I’m a pretty spontaneously wonderful person.  Underneath the chubby cheeks is a gorgeous smile (that my parents paid for…thanks mom and dad), and the best part of it is that it is genuine.  and so am I.  I believe with all my heart that I was made to offer me–and all of me for you.  Genuine, little me with eyes that stare into precious souls with passion to see and know hearts as much as I’ve come to know my own.  And my life——-

I’m neat.  I have a friend who constantly tells me I’m neat.  We joke that someday we’ll get married and have neat kids…but what is neat?  I think it’s the part of me that is excited to share in this beautiful life.  To jump on a plane at a moments notice to celebrate life.  To plan a dinner for 30+ people to honor my parents’ lives (outside. at night. by fire.)  To recognize the relationships that are worth savoring and to be at peace with the ones that aren’t while most importantly, knowing the difference.  I am neat because of far more.

Last night I tucked my two little cousins into bed after a long day of soccer and “life.”  One asked me if we used to be monkeys.  Do you know how neat it was to be able to say “no.” ?! (and with confidence!)  It’s Pretty. Damn. Neat.  We talked about God and His creation.  How God breathed life into MAN.  And he got it.  I feel like you’ve reached a good benchmark in life and Christianity when you are able to discuss creationism with a four year old… SUCCESSFULLY.  I walked away thinking knowing, I can do this, I want to do this, I am so ready to do this and not for me, but for others, with you.

…because I’m neat.  and I know exactly how to love you, AND me.

and I do.  Sacrificially, I so do.

I don’t know when I’ll say the real, “I do.”  I kind of hate that.  In all honesty, I actually really hate that.  TINY SOAPBOX-And what I hate even more is having people say, “your time will come,” or “God is faithful, just be patient”  Like really, do you think I don’t already know that or I haven’t figured that out yet?!!

I look at this beautiful pearl ring that symbolizes purity even though Lord knows, I am far from pure.  I fail daily.. more like hourly.  But it’s something I strive for in the waiting–to be perfectly in tune with who God has created me to be.  Guess what, I’m finally there.  There are two diamonds holding the pearl.  ps. love that my Daddy was the first man to give me a diamond ring.  And these diamonds signify a promise of constancy.  And so I do.  I promise to be constant in this strive for purity, this strive to be the woman that God made me to be for you and for me and for ours.  All the neat of me–ready to hand over not to someone else, FOR someone else.

And then there is this: I don’t find it coincidental at all that as I take the needed break from this emotional and honest post that I stumble across a beautiful blog post about marriage not being for “me.”  (by 6 and counting friends none the less).  It’s not a reminder at all that this is for me…  It’s an affirmation that I’m finally getting it, I’m pretty sure I’ve finally got it.  Guess what, love, it’s your turn.

Perhaps each of us have moments in our lives when it feels like time slows down or the air becomes still and everything around us seems to draw in, marking that moment as one we will never forget.

My dad giving his response to my concerns was such a moment for me. With a knowing smile he said, “Seth, you’re being totally selfish. So I’m going to make this really simple: marriage isn’t for you. You don’t marry to make yourself happy, you marry to make someone else happy.

I haven’t reached these new status’ to try and find the happiness that awaits me…  No!  I’ve reached them because I finally found the real mission that lies behind the happiness…it’s not for me, it’s for others.

Do you have any idea (well, yeah I guess you momma’s know) how blessed it is knowing that only “you” can wipe the tears, hold the hands, kiss the foreheads…It’s not about us anymore, is it?  It never was.  And hey, what a sweet, sweet prayer of intimacy it is that we would be desired by our men as they seek to live their lives for US.  I’m so happy praying that prayer…so at peace being able to pray that prayer knowing it’s not for me but for him to see the me I love, the me that was created for him.  I am his beloved… God bless this.

I look at that picture of me up above–I stare at it long and hard in my moments of contemplation, the moments of truth and tender sincerities as I know just how ready I am…so ready I am.  It’s so hard not to draw out my imperfections…the sausage fingers that remind me of those many extra pounds…the eyes that are tired, the nose that is a little too pointy for my liking, and the lips that just want to be kissed a different kind of kiss.  And I realize, those thoughts aren’t my Father’s thoughts and so no longer can they be mine.  I truly am in love with who He has made me to be–this wild and precious life I’ve been given, FOR HIM.  See my smile, love every part of me, desire me, Love.  Hold my heart, sweet friend, it’s yours.  And see the beautiful me that was made for you.

You’re so beautiful, my darling,
so beautiful, and your dove eyes are veiled
By your hair as it flows and shimmers,
like a flock of goats in the distance
streaming down a hillside in the sunshine.
Your smile is generous and full—
expressive and strong and clean.
Your lips are jewel red,
your mouth elegant and inviting,
your veiled cheeks soft and radiant.
The smooth, lithe lines of your neck
command notice—all heads turn in awe and admiration!

The sweet, fragrant curves of your body,
the soft, spiced contours of your flesh
Invite me, and I come. I stay
until dawn breathes its light and night slips away.
You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love,
beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless.

You’ve captured my heart, dear friend.
    You looked at me, and I fell in love.
    One look my way and I was hopelessly in love!
How beautiful your love, dear, dear friend—
far more pleasing than a fine, rare wine,
your fragrance more exotic than select spices.
The kisses of your lips are honey, my love,
every syllable you speak a delicacy to savor.
Your clothes smell like the wild outdoors,
the ozone scent of high mountains.
Dear lover and friend, you’re a secret garden,
a private and pure fountain.
Body and soul, you are paradise

Song of Songs 4 (The Message)

Where I was on September 11…

the laughter turned to cry-ter on January 27, 2004 the moment I found out Buddy was killed…

the first time I fell in love…

the first time I completed a 1/2 marathon…

but really– five minutes ago, when I realized that someone, yes “someone” I “know” died.

And for whatever reason, THIS moment has become one of THOSE moments–

Why is it death that stops us in our tracks?  Why is it the grief that takes us through reality?  Why is it the unyielding words of hope never comfort “just” enough… and why is it that years later, emotions still grab you like one of those claw games…as though you’re just about to win the stuffed animal you’ll hug until it explodes only to drop it, and with it an emptiness in the pit of your stomach that looses excitement yet gains disappointment, even sorrow…

yah. years later.  but the tears still welled up…

I met Andy three years ago.  He asked me out– and being tall with dark hair and blue eyes, I gladly said yes.  And I was nervous.  And giddy too.  He was older than me… significantly older.  But his heart wasn’t.  I can hear his laugh as he told me about his crazy, college roommate.  And I can see his smile as I discover the “Cake Pandora” radio station.  *And I can feel my smile (now more closely), each time I listen to it because of the memories I get from it….they’re good, and even a little “butterfly-ie”…

but it didn’t work out.  my heart was elsewhere… like it seems to have a way of being/doing.  And he still, STILL would call me on my birthday.  He still, STILL would text me when he saw something that reminded him of me.  Mostly pictures of cats (because he knew they’d make me giggle while reminiscing of a story I told him when we first met…)  He still, STILL would pray for me when I needed it most.  And he never, ever hesitated from asking me to pray for him as well….

Here I am, smiling over the small but significant impact he had on me…giggling over his fun company…giggle as I hear in a faint memory his goofy laugh that was so contagious….  And here I am with my own reasons to call him, but I can’t.  And here, there is a sad shock filling my presence.  and words that, I still can’t don’t want to comprehend:

Andy went to his eternal home in Heaven on Saturday, September 28th. His departure was unexpected, even to him…

and in my presence, is an Everlasting God, that welcomed him home, a future that grace has given.  But what also stands with me in the present, is a short past with this man that made me smile, and a boy that made me giggle, and tears that I’m going to let fall–because I cared.

Vividly–those short moments with him replay over and over and over again.  And I’ll let them play through this unexpected sorrow.  I’ll let them play through this moment of reality…  I’ll let them play through the tears, and I’ll still care…with love, for you Andy–

with love for you.

*please pray for Andy’s family… and for so many who were also impacted by Andy’s gentle and kind spirit.  We truly cared so deeply for him….

I’ve been saying for a long time that I’m over my quarter-life crisis…and then an extra piece of the puzzle manages to find it’s way into another opening that just needed to be closed.

Some of those pieces, most recently have been my ministry.  No.  those puzzle pieces, they’ve been redemption.  I’ll write more about my mission trip later, right now though, I can only share this part.

I am not pure.

And you probably had that figured out after I spent last summer with the darkest man I’ve ever known.  There’s a quote by Mary Oliver, MY FAVORITE:

Someone once gave me a box full of darkness.  It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.

And like I said last night, the best part of my 2012.

I keep going back to that day, that day that still has parts just one part of me smiling… I was sitting on the couch (with what he so kindly avoided to tell me until he left, tequila barf breath).  And in his Lloyd Christmas voice he said, “How ‘bout a hug….” Where then I so appropriately responded, “I hate good-byes.”

It wasn’t good-bye though.  Because for the last ten months I have racked my brain wondering why we couldn’t have our shit together enough just to be together.  And I questioned this love that so quickly developed.  The love that I choose to define so differently than he.  The love that’s sacrificial and that deep in my heart I knew he felt for me.  Why else would things end when they did?  Yet, there we were.

And oh, how I’ve come a long way since.  I’ve found the sweetest most beautiful redemption that knows the difference between real love and obligatory love.  I choose real.  I choose pure.  I choose everything in between for Him.

—

I guess maybe I can talk about the mission trip more than I intended to.  My job was to give the evening devotionals.  The ones that focused on relationships forcing me to look at my past that took me there…  The ones that made me focus on my own with the Lord (the second to last puzzle piece, for real…and it fit, LIKE A GLOVE).  So then came purity, and the release in knowing that my heart is what makes me pure.  And there I was.  Realizing that his darkness is what had made me impure…but to be with a community of believers that rise you up to the break of redemption, the place where you meet beauty, the place where you meet His definition of Love.

Meet purity.  Meet the laughter.  Meet the sunset—you’ve made it.

And then you haven’t.  That’s the thing about purity, it’s worth the fight, if only you’re strong enough to win it.

Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.

(James 5:16-18, The Message)

I confess: I got a text…from him, reminding me of the fun that isn’t so light hearted, but as I’m finding in this great place I’m in was more like life-“hard”ed.  And somehow the purity went out the window, and his darkness had a way of revealing the worst part of me.  And Darkness found a way to separate me from those beautiful colors of redemption…I wasn’t strong enough…

Oh but friends, up until 34 minutes ago, He was painting something that I could never catch.

I’m stronger.

and so I asked him this:

Please, PLEASE, be honest… honest enough not to worry about my feelings: was there any part of you at all that actually loved me?

The quickest, easiest way for me to fill you in is to just repeat his, “no.” Like if he had said yes, it would have changed things; maybe defined why I held on to the impurities for the past 10 months and have been so rocked by the re-rise of that masterpiece of darkness….

But he didn’t say no.  And he didn’t need to.  I just needed to ask… to be sure I was ready.

And I am.  Ready to return to the purity, the one that shines a brighter light on my heart that deserves so much more than the “flirty” fun that risks another 10 months of ignorance.. for that’s a beauty that I’m now grasping SO TIGHTLY.

So I told him this:

you held too much of my heart. I won’t do that to myself again.  be proud and let that drum roll in my honor.

you’re amazing… but I deserve more…and believe me: I would love every bit of fun and you all over again.. and again and again and again if you were willing to give me that.  that’s right, it’s still beating.

and then he agreed, because he knows I do too.  But here…

That’s where I come to you darlings.  I love, LOVE that you love me so much.  I love that you’re protective and say things like, “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GO SEE HIM ARE YOU?!?!!!!”  But I also love that you love my heart and the rediscovered purity that is buried among many more impurities.

My purity says this.  “love him anyway.”

My friends, my family, my church-mamas, and all of you that saw the love he awakened in me: pray for him, because he needs it more than I EVER will.  Oh, how I just want him to accept the love he deserves as much as I do.  Oh, how I just want him to know what it feels like to catch a sunset, to breathe it in for another person the way I did him, the way I do Him…and oh, oh, ohhhhh, how I just want him to believe he deserves it.  Because we all do.  It’s called grace.  Find it.

I want to clarify too, my purity is saying one more thing…good-bye [insert name that I’m never allowed to type because his nosy ass nanny maybe spying on my blog—that’s right, I just called you out…and you won’t ever deserve him… and while we’re on it, I never should have given up my writers-chance-of-a-lifetime opportunity that you stole through your own darkness…]

Where was I… Goodbye phone number, goodbye email (no really, I just deleted his contact card), goodbye facebook (oop… and there goes that “friendship”).  Goodbye my favorite what-if…

Guess what though, there are no more what-ifs with you.

Just the what-ifs of Faithfulness that honors my faithfulness.

My dad prayed these words over me the last time he gave me a redemption promise. (someday I’ll be able to open this letter without crying.  I love you, Daddy.)

“We know that He works in miraculous ways to achieve His goals, and most of the time He doesn’t give us any clues about what He is doing…we do know, however, that through our faith in Him, He will provide us with what are the best things for us.”

So through the darkness, you really were the best gift, so worth my love then, so worth His love now.

And, I love you, so deeply I loved every part of you.  But I choose purity.  I choose redemption.  I choose goodbye.

WOOT WOOT! Repeat after me “BEST IN THE WEST!”

Back on topic: And someplace in my answer you’ll hear the glimmer of glee and childhood giggles that rock back and forth to a little bit county, a little bit Texan, and a helluva lotta two-stepping pride, “like you just don’t care.”

If you didn’t know it, I moved a lot.  I have no “hometown” but I have the home-mories.  Seventh grade swaying at Leon Springs “misery looking for some company…looking for the party crowd.”  And ohhhh dancing with those boys that still hold my first skipped heartbeats.  The boys that learned to dance by putting their hands on the “small of my back…” the boy that sang me Shania Twain after that “deadly” prank phone call… oh yes that’s middle school lovin’, the middle school tragic-ins’ (and Lawdy knows I needed a me back then)…

A little “me” to tell me to stop and breathe in the now– “let the good times flow…” you crazy kids! and by “kids” I mean adults that need a time out to remember and cherish your youth.

A little me to “slam ’em back and laugh out loud.” Don’t forget, MAKE GOOD CHOICES, and HAVE FUN!

Oh my kid friends, just love life a little.

And then grow up and be me.  I “only get sweeter with time.”

Travel back and “just once” be twelve again.

Be thankful for the women who changed your life on the way to here.

The Miss Millions Alicia’s that unleashed the writing.

The Meg-Beg’s that still laugh you into the day afters….

The Jill’s that taught you boys are “fun.”  which is really code for….”go make out!”

The “mom” that says “stay out as long as you want…just be sure to come back with a juicy story.”

So you get a little playful “forgetting everything” EXCEPT how good “fun” feels.  Playing beer-pong for the first time in 26 years with the first guy that held your heart.  Also the first guy that broke your heart (in a note…) So you “gently” remind him of it…. and get a few free drinks out of it too.

and then you laugh some more.  enjoy him some more.

and then you kiss again…and again… you buy ice cream at 2:30 a.m. and, you kiss again. you get giddy… and instead of thinking about the boy fun… you think about the fun boy (who actually is fun) and for a moment or two or three or four ahead of you, forget there ever was a boy fun.

You become these girls again: the high school ones that are growing up with every excitement of success and significance leading you into the future.  And you do “fun” with them, because that other life is coming to get in the way of the precious youthfulness all. too. soon.

by the way- they were three when I first met them…

so you “toast” to the youthful you.  Literally “TOAST” to it…
and then you come “home.”

David Lee Murphy plays on the plane ride into the city.  And you realize life is “one of those things that gets sweeter with time…” “It keeps getting better as the days go by…”

ps. this wine tastes DISGUSTING… will have to toast to heros with something else later.

reflection.

A couple of months ago, I “re-met” a hero.  The last time we sat together, we were in a van, visiting the land of heroes, the then “new” resting place home of our hero, our brother.  This time, here we were:

His name is Kurt…the brother of my other hero (Buddy), and in so many ways, he’s rising to be the brother-in-law-cousin that I will never have.  Bud, you’re brother is great.  Thanks for sharing him…

We drank to you.  Toasting to your years of greatness, your life of love, and the sacrifice of your bravery that ended all to soon.  We toasted your wife.  and then we danced.

We danced our hearts out..with no rhythm, no cares, just a compulsion to live for you this great life that we wish you were a part of, every. single. day.  We held you with us, the same way we held you when we joined hands the day we said goodbye.

Oh but your hands… oh how I’ve longed for them to carry me through my first real heart-ache, and my second, and my third…  through the triumph of getting a job, and walking away from a job, and most recently–getting into grad school.  My brother-cousin-in-law, you are still, so, so missed.

And in those precious hands that are holding his little-sister-cousin’s heart, I thought I’d had the strength to move on just as sister-cousin has.  But we don’t move on from this man, our hero.  We move forward because of this hero…

We drive the long road of life without you here, yet every part of you there.

And the tears that streamed with grief we’re buried once again as we felt you in the clouds around us.   We watched for you as the wind blew the flag of heroes so fiercly in the breeze.  and we cried the surreal tears remembering, honoring, that you really were ours…It wasn’t about the grief.  It was about living through your greatness and bravery.  

and here’s to your greatness and bravery.

Some memories of you are still too personal to share.  Someday I will, not today.  Because it’s the blissful me that’s thankful for your heart, thankful for your example, and so every bit full of gratitude for you living through your brother’s watch over me.

Then I got home… and the grief returned.  And there he was to speak sweet, sweet words from you to me as I grieved for the umpteenth-zillion time over the loss of you, wishing those brother-cousin-in-law hands could hold me through life.  And as he reached out the way you would so effortlessly do, I was reminded of greatness, kindness, and a one of a kind laughter that had become only whispers to my ears.

And his voice, it’s almost yours.

—

Oh but the way you could understand a heart like mine, and now he is too.  Sister-cousin came over last Saturday.  “I know sister.  You have a heart.” and let me tell you about this heart….and about that last blog.  It breaks for the darkness and trials that my loves face.  It longs for the goodness, the purity that is too easily stolen, and it begs to be known as truth, to be understood as reality.

and the support of you here with him, oh it’s just so great.  And the bravery in me rises… to do what’s best for me.

Look darlings, I’m not sad.  Remember it was a blissful song that held a beat of meditation and reflection…

Reflection finds, “those were the best days of my life…”

the best part of my 2012….

Kurty.  Thanks for coming back.  For buckling over with laughter when you hear a story about my dog’s chew toy or for answering to listen to a frustrated and hungry heart that longs for funness and spontaneity but is really in need of righteousness and truth.  Thank you for seeking to hold the heart that he used to during a time when it’s a little too confused.  You’re a good friend my brother-cousin-in-law-in-law.  and I’m so blessed…these can be the best days.

no that is not a cigar…it’s the booth. that’s the finger of sass…and her bodyguard….and photobomber.

—

A special note to you, darlings: thanks for reading my life and for finding out with me that it makes no sense at all…just to be a part of it when it does.  This post is the first half, and one that my heart just really needs to be done with.  peace out.