I recently read a trails blog entitled, “Five Reasons to NOT Hike in Arkansas in the Summertime.” Those reasons included ticks, chiggers, poison ivy, snakes and heat exhaustion. So I gotta say, this is not encouraging me to go outside here in the Natural State… Then Brandon came home one day and mentioned a coworker’s comment about tarantulas and scorpions. I’m like, WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?!.. Just kidding. Kinda.

After Brandon finished his “second job” work (he works remotely for his PA company for about 20 hours a week, so that means he’s finishing that up late Friday night and Saturday morning before we get to do fun stuff!), we decided to brave the scary outdoors and do what we’ve been talking about for a month: CANOEING! :D

The weather was beeeee-you-ti-ful. 86 degrees and breezy, to be more precise. It was just warm enough that being out on the lake was refreshing. We paddled (errr, Brandon paddled most of the time) and floated and watched the rippling water. We talked and laughed and enjoyed the silence --- which was sometimes interrupted by my buzzing cell phone. Now before you judge my technology in nature, I was getting regular progress updates on the soon-arrival of my new nephew. So whenever my phone would buzz, I’m like, AHH! BABY!

Guardian Michael arrived at 7:57 pm (Pennsylvania time) and according to the pictures, is quite the little cutie (including the camo hat that someone put on his head)…. That made me laugh. While I wasn’t quite old enough when my little brother was born to remember his newborn squishyness, my sis thinks Guardian looks like him, so that’s cool. Though his little dark eyes and hair could be both his mommy and daddy. I would take a moment to whine about my nephew being in Pennsylvania and me being in Arkansas, but who am I to whine about the provision of God in my life that leads me here… and besides, it seems like just a #firstworldproblems thing to whine about. That’s not to say I’m not looking forward to squishing his cute lil cheeks and introducing him to Auntie Nomi & Unca B’andon. In a few months. Just a few months. :)

The rest of our Saturday included gym-going. We’ve been pretty consistent on gym-going for the last four weeks. It’s hard to not be when it is literally a block away. We walk to the gym, except during torrential downpours. Also, I like to joke with Brandon that I. Just. Don’t. UNDERSTAND. why we are both working out and he’s getting skinnier and I’m getting rounder… with a wide-eyed innocent look on my face. I mean, two words. Baby Belly. (insert tiny pregnancy update here: 19 weeks pregnant, hungry ALL the time and happy-happy-happy).

Somewhere around 8:30 p.m., our downstairs neighbors started to have a birthday party. Not a cute little kids party--- oh no, this was the kind of party where they are outside chanting, “BIRTHDAY SHOTS! BIRTHDAY SHOTS!” Which tells me two things: they are probably not old enough to be drinking anyway, and tonight is about to get super-annoying. So we did the mature thing --- and went to Walmart to stare at the $5 movie bin for an hour, in which we decided that movies are stupid. :) Ended up with the coolest documentary ever called Planet Earth. All about the amazing earth. It’s like 9 hours long, so we watched an hour and went to bed. What? Sleep is good!


Happy Father’s Day to Brandon!

Isn’t this triple berry galette the most delicious thing you’ve seen? My mouth is watering just looking at it again. I used this recipe for the galette, a.k.a. rustic tart. Because temporary apartments do not stock pie pans or rolling pins, much to my chagrin.

My inner conflict about Father’s Day is that people don’t know whether to say Happy Father’s Day to an expectant father or that he will be celebrating Father’s Day in the future. Since we believe that life begins at conception, it’s a pretty clear thing to me. So hence, my wonderful dessert-making. Baking for my husband is definitely one of my favorite things to do. He’s just so darn appreciative and complimentary…. And I like being able to eat homemade dessert, too. WIN WIN.

And that is my turbo-fast weekend in review.

What did you do this weekend?

This is going to turn into a bit of a narrative. I have already determined that I’m just gonna go with that. I have confessed my love for topical blog posts, but we’re goin against the flow. I’m currently on my lunch break, munching on the most delicious Italian Meatball Spaghetti Squash casserole. It’s a loose version of this Skinnytaste recipe + my own version of Giada’s Turkey Meatballs + a gifted jar of spaghetti sauce from Brandon’s grandma. Because when we go to Grandma Joyce’s house, we always come back with many, many gifts.

We headed down to West Virgina for a pleasant Thanksgiving Day with Brandon’s grandmother + “Aunt” Linda and Brandon’s brother & his fiancee and their baby girl. Basically, we arrived and I gave out hugs and then swooped little baby Marley Jean into my arms for auntie time. I don’t think I’m as skilled as it looked (they were calling me the ‘baby whisperer)--- poor baby girl was tired from being overly interested in Grandma’s house—but she quickly fell asleep on my lap for a half hour and looked like a little cherub in the process. It was a lovely day filled with the Thanksgiving Day parade, collective dog-mocking during the televised dog show, Nat King Cole, getting in the Christmas spirit, talking and smiling around the table during Thanksgiving dinner and more food than we could handle (including my contribution of homemade apple and pumpkin pies).

Bittersweet family moments like this always sting for a little while. We are supremely grateful for Brandon’s grandmother and for the opportunity to spend time with what family that we can. Brandon’s brother is now based in New York state, just across the Pennsylvania border so we can see them more often. And it was great to catch up via phone with his sister who is residing in the great state of Texas. But there is always the underlying reminder that I have not been blessed with the opportunity to know Brandon’s parents. And Brandon’s twin brother and his family. It hurts most during the holidays, when I remember that there are people that were integral to his growing-up years, to his very identity, and they are shut out from our lives. That there are family traditions happening that we are not apart of – and not by our own desire. It hurts and it takes me a little while to remember what Thanksgiving is, and what I ought to do—simply and genuinely thank God for the blessing of my husband and our beautiful life together… and pray again that God would restore what the enemy has stolen.

For the rest of Thanksgiving break, we hunkered down for a hibernation-vacation. We were supposed to go out of town for a few days --- but the Thanksgiving day travel just wore us out and we ended up staying in, reading books, decorating our Christmas tree and making beautiful memories to the tunes of Nat King Cole.

Now it’s back to the college grind for a couple weeks until Christmas break!

I like traditions. Old ones are great, but making new ones are even better.

This year, my sister and I decided to our Christmas cookie baking together…. because it’s so much more fun that way. Ya know, I’m not sure why we hadn’t thought of this before. We got out our aprons and both managed to buy too many chocolate chips (now I am well-stocked for munching. You don’t know how much I love chocolate chips).

And we baked and baked and baked.

We also dipped everything imaginable in chocolate. Graham crackers? Why not?



We made M&M cookies (with Christmas M&Ms, of course!), gingersnaps, pecan sandies, peanut butter balls, almond thumbprint raspberry cookies, peanut butter blossoms and all the various chocolate dipped concoctions. Then I packed up two huge platters for Brandon’s workplace and my workplace, and am trying to resolve to keep some of those cookies for our Christmas holidays together.

It’s funny how Christmas baking makes you feel all warm & fuzzy inside…

What are your Christmas traditions? Old or new?

Maybe it's the time-change or maybe it's going to sleep earlier each night. Maybe it's the end of wedding season, and finally getting caught up on household chores. Maybe it's resolving to enjoy every single thing I do, and to be kind when people are not, and to not sweat the small stuff. Maybe it's the increasing awareness of God's presence in my life, and the simple reminders from the Spirit to let the love of God constrain me. Maybe it's just a change in my attitude-a decision to turn my focus away from how much I have to do towards how thankful I am for breath in my lungs and chores to accomplish and family to serve and being saved by Christ. Or maybe it's a combination of all these things.

I feel like I'm coming out of the fog. Out of the fifty-mile-per-hour pace of life and into living peacefully, slowly, reverently. This past weekend was like heaven on earth. And you know what I did? A whole-lotta laundry. I am very, very, VERY thankful for time to do laundry. It's sounds weirder than a three-dollar bill. I'm okay with that.
It was a pure, happy, continual labor at home and I loved it.
I cleaned the bathroom at 8:00 am on Saturday morning.
I trekked up and down the stairs about 40 times, with laundry baskets and without.
I ironed a mountain of clothing.
I read a cookbook. Yup, almost a whole cookbook.
I conquered the dishes begging to be scrubbed.
I hugged my husband as he did the usual 12-hour study Saturday.
I cooked. Slowly. I had promised my husband a dessert this weekend, and I thoroughly enjoyed the process of baking this delectable apple tarte tatin from Eat Drink Live. If you're not as classy as the cookbook I got the recipe from, and have no idea what that is (like me), it's a French upside-down tart. Caramelized apples topped with pastry crust, then baked in the cast iron skillet. Basically, AWESOME. Brandon agrees quite enthusiastically.



So yeah, I have a slight blogging obsession with themes and being chronological. When what I'm writing doesn't fit into the theme--or more practically, the title, sometimes I don't blog. It's sad. I am trying to overcome it, because I love the idea of sharing more of our life on this little space in the Internet, even life that is random and messy and not-quite-chronological. I have summer road trips and autumn photos and adventures and so many things to share. Hold on to your hats, folks, I'm blogging again.
I'm sharing what's on my heart.

{insert passionate spiritual speech here}
I'm gonna talk about buzzwords. I really hate 'em.
Buzzwords. They are everywhere in the Christian world, and consequently, everywhere on the Internet and everywhere in real life.
People looooove to talk about their buzzwords.
Revival! Repentance! Holiness! Healing! Faith! The Gospel! Freedom! Spirit! Evangelism! Discipleship! GRACE (times a million these days)!
Go to a million different Christian "camps" and you'll get a million different buzzwords. They're usually valid Scriptural terms, genuine Christian doctrine and authentic needs in the Church.

HOWEVER.

Ya know what bugs me? Like really-really-REALLY bugs me?
The only buzzword that people don't talk about that much--- Jesus.

It's probably a human thing --- to be fascinated with trends and fads and whatever catches our interest for a month or two. Or whatever we need the most. Or whatever seems the most intriguing at the time. But the truth is -- that current buzzword is not the end-all, catch-all. It is NOT everywhere in Scripture. It is not the answer to everything. Random buzzword is probably not the foundation of our belief system and it is most certainly not the most important thing ever.

I've been there. I might still be there, but the Lord is working on me.
You know what I'm seeing when I open up the Bible lately? The Person of Christ.
You know who I'm enthralled with today? Jesus.

There's something to be said for coming out of the fog of Christian trends and settling down at the feet of Jesus to learn the most important thing -- Him.




Our Sunday evening at-home-date. Slow-cooker butternut squash soup, biscuits and sparkling pomegranate juice. Super romantic because I scrounged around to find those candlesticks. Let's not talk about the fact that I have no candlestick holders so they are in parfait glasses. Candlelight makes even the simplest meal romantic. And instrumental Christmas music, too. :D

It's been a blazing autumn weekend.
The kind of weekend where I have stopped countless times in awe of the fall colors around me.
The kind of weekend that is making me (the passionate summer supporter) into the I-dream-of-fall person.
This autumn is breathtaking. Even with the rain and the wind and the drastic temperature changes. I'm officially a fan.


Friday. The day when we're always super-tired after a long week of school and work. We still have 'lots to do,' but always end up making it an early night because sometimes you just need sleep. The most interesting story about my Friday is I went to spend some time at the piano. I noticed some red smudges on the piano keys and thought it strange. Kept on playing away until a few minutes later when I noticed that the smudged area was growing. Then I looked down and found the source: my bleeding pinkie finger. There was a nice, straight red cut down the finger. I still have no idea where it came from, but two bandaids later, I was good to go!

Current favorite song: Great is Thy Faithfulness


Saturday. Editing, editing, editing. I'm scrambling like mad to finish editing the last weddings of the season, so all my 'free time' is spent with the laptop. The laptop is my friend. I'm looking forward to the season coming, the season of rest! Towards the end of Saturday, Brandon and I headed out to Black Moshannon for an anniversary session for a friend. The weather played nice, after a little bit of worrying on my part. There was some rain spinkles and coooold, but honestly, the rain just made the fall colors all the more beautiful so I certainly can't complain. And I'm SUPER-excited to get to editing that session. :D

Sunday. Church and then more church fellowship. We headed up to 'the mountain' (as my parents' house is affectionately known) for a church potluck. Anybody else not a fan of the word 'potluck?' In my childhood, those were always referred to as "fellowship meals." I have a soft spot for that term, as opposed to something involving lucky pot. :P

I also have a problem that the cute photos I take of my friends and nieces, I just can't seem to be okay with putting them on a public blog. Sorry, everyone, it's your loss because I know some cuter-than-buttons kids! And you will have to suffer through photos of Brandon and I. Because it was a nice fall day, and nice golden light, and I turned the camera from cute kids to my hot husband. He didn't know it was a photo shoot day (Every day is a photo shoot day!).

I am super-happy about that.

Throughout our dating days, Brandon and I would often joke that romance would find us without even trying. Through the months of dating, we "happened" upon beauty and sunsets and oceans and moments that really did take my breath away. Moments where time stands still and life seems to be suspended for just a minute. Where I am stunned and awed and overwhelmed and thoroughly blessed by the privilege of the experience. Over the weekend, we had another one of those unexpected moments and I'm still thinking about it.




Sometimes God gives good gifts. The experience of watching a glorious sunset over a shimmering river with my husband?
Unplanned.
Unexpected.
Incomparable.

We spent our Saturday in the country. It reminded me of everything I love about Pennsylvania, the country, outside air and summertime. It's not technically summertime, but Saturday was the first day of actually feeeling like summer. It was glorious. A little sticky-hot. I like to dress to fit the wedding, but because I don't own cowboy boots, the closest thing I could get was knee-high boots that looked a little country-ish. They made me feel hot. Not hot-like attractive hot (just in case you were wondering), but hot like my feet are sweaty and that makes the rest of me feel sweaty. It made me wishing to return to my greenhouse-first-job days where I would spray off my feet with a hose. Or maybe jump into the little creek by the Spackmans' house. I considered it, for a brief moment. Everybody is glad that I kept myself together. :P

Anyway, I was shooting my first wedding of the year! BOOYAH. I sound excited, but really, I only get excited after the wedding is over. Before the wedding, I am serious. REALLY serious. Like stone-faced serious. This is kinda how it goes:
Night before the wedding: all lenses, cameras, batteries, etc. are put out on the dining room table. Brandon makes jokes about me being a sniper, getting my gear ready and cleaning my 'guns.' "You're a camera assassin! Gonna shoot that wedding dead!"
Morning before the wedding: I put all equipment in its proper place, I'm reviewing the day's timeline and remembering everything important. Somehow, my sense of humor is completely lost on the day of the wedding, especially the first wedding of the year. Brandon makes jokes and I am silent. There is no laughter. My brow is furrowed and I continue my very-serious train of thought about photographing this wedding. Thinking, thinking, thinking.... Brandon knows this so he just smiles at me.
Two hours before the wedding: My typical struggle with the 'hair dilemma.' I attempt an updo. My arms are already tired because putting my own hair in an updo makes my arms hurt. I give up eventually and end up with it all in a topknot. And not a very good one either. *shakingmyhead* But my hair does stay there for the entire day, so that's a victory. :D

WEDDING TIME.

photo credit: Brandon
I love this photo It's so perfect.

That's me. And the guy leaning over to tell me something? That's my little bro, Zeph. He's funny and also probably the coolest 23-year-old that I know and one of my favorite people. We had a good ol' time being at the same wedding. He was the best man, rocking out at helping set up for the wedding (which was at his best friend's family farm), making a man-breakfast of bacon-wrapped steak (that looked GOOD) and in general being fun and handsome at the same time.... Oh yes, and his best man speech was awesome. He was funny (Princess bride humor!), authoritative (calling out the loud folks in the back who wouldn't shut up during the maid of honor's speech) and a loyal & supportive best friend who got a little choked up at the right time. What a man. :)

Here's some official wedding photos, which I already blogged because I have some 2013 photography resolutions that include faster blogging & image delivery turnaround. :D

Anyway, have I mentioned that I think the country is the best place?
Let me ramble on about this family farm. It was BEAUTIFUL. I had only been to the main house a few times + up to the barn to see some lambs, and so Brandon drove me back to the ceremony site... We were both in a little bit of a summertime dream state. "Oooooh, pretty land. Oh, pretty little road. OOOOooooh, those fields are nice. Is that the grandfather on a tractor a few hours before the wedding? LOL Awesome." We both love the countryside, the unpopulated area, the Pennsylvania rolling mountains, little rippling creeks, the breath of coolness in a valley, the soaring views from a ridge, acres of unpopulated land and the stunning difference of air breathed out in the country. We live in a small town while holding onto a house-in-the-country dreams. 

Our Sunday and Monday evenings involved walks through our town. Every time we step outside during these spring days that feel like summer (80 degrees!), the dreams float around our conversations. The misty rain falls as our steps sync. Warm evening light makes golden orbs on the sidewalk as we stare at these Victorian mansions and talk about why they'd be better farther away from the neighbors. We love our space.

Maybe it's because Brandon was raised in northern Virginia and spent most of his growing up years in a condo. Maybe it's because of the dramatic change of culture from fast-paced suburb-on-the-edge-of-city life outside of DC to small town in Pennsylvania. Maybe it's the many hikes of my childhood where my dad taught me to love the wilderness of national parks. Maybe it's my small-town childhood with the big green yard and trees for climbing. Maybe it's the rest we feel every time we head 'up the mountain' to my parents' house.

Maybe it is our hearts finding love in our dating days of walking around small towns. Our dating was almost always outside and we loved it despite the wintertime cold. As the weather turned warm, our love deepened... a ring sparkled on my finger. Warm summer days meant wedding planning with more walks outside.

Life is so much better outside. ;)
I love the country. :)


One more photo... Abbie, maid of honor & friend. Kelsey, sis-in-law and friend. And me. Don't we all look ridiculously happy? It was a wonderful wedding day.

Memories of long drives home from work to 'the mountain,' just like when I lived with my parents. The silence (because I can't stand the radio) for thinking and reflection and planning and dreaming. The golden sunlight stretching across the road like it's leading me into paradise, and then blinding me in the next moment until I stomp on the brakes because I can't see a thing. Reminding me of the years I spent living at home as an adult, how sweet they were and how I wouldn't trade them for the world. Even single adults needs a family to go home to.

Smiles that happen just because. Just because someone brought your favorite food to a ladies' movie night, just because you have a pound of ruby-red, almost-ripe strawberries that stain fingers and tongues and fall into bowls of melting homemade ice cream. Just because it's Friday and the week was long and now it's over and you worked hard, but now you have nothing to do but talk with friends about things. Important things and unimportant things and happy things and infuriating things and sad things, but no matter what things you're talking about, it's okay because you're with friends. Smiles because your dad came how with chilled Starbucks drinks.. just because he knows you love it.

The rewind and replay of the best things of my childhood, sleepovers (except I went home at 10) with Anne of Green Gables, friends playing with my hair and the murmuring of repeated movie lines, other conversation and the spontaneous applause that happens when Matthew Cuthbert tells Marilla to let Anne go to the ball!

Chasing little children round in circles, just to hear their breathless giggles. Is there anything quite as wonderful as children laughing?

The warmth of sunlight. How I missed it!

When a race begins and when it ends. Brandon ran (read: walked) a 5K to make up for missing a jogging class. Except his shins were being angry and so his pace was very slow, but neither one of us minded because unexpected time to walk and think is rare during a college semester.

Open windows. Clouds that hang low for hours, promising rain and then never quite delivering... until the midnight hours, when lightning flashes and thunder rolls and we smile because thunderstorms are wonderful when watched the shelter of my own little kitchen.

At-home dates. It's not surprising that because time is at such a premium for us during the college semester, that we guard our 'date' time quite jealously. The word "jealous" has such a negative connotation these days, but I am using it in the purest sense. Jealousy is not always sinful. God is a jealous God. God never sins. Therefore, jealousy is not always sinful. God is jealous because He rightfully deserves our primary love and our devotion. In a similar way, marriage is the highest relationship of our lives, save one (our personal relationships with Christ). So every other thing is secondary to that relationship. We made a covenant--a holy and sacred vow--before God to forsake all others, and that means practically putting one another before things. It means making sure our relationship is fed, that our hearts are beating together, our fingers are interlaced and our feet are walking the same path. It means staying home and staying in and being together. I (heart) at-home dates.

Laughing with friends because there's a few people that tend to get to church first on Sunday morning, and this Sunday? Everybody forgot/lost/left their church keys at home. So we're standing outside like a bunch of happy homeless folks. Maybe we were happy because the sun was shining? Or because it's Sunday? Or because we're just happy folks!

Words that make me think.. and remember lessons of the past. My pastor preached about suffering this week, and the message has poked and prodded my thoughts since then. Suffering happens. How do I respond to it? How do I live in it? Do I draw nearer to Christ? Or run from His shelter? Am I surprised by suffering? I must endure... live without yielding to the pressure.. keeping my eyes on the One who walks with me. "There's not a friend like the lowly Jesus. No, not one! No, not one!"