A Frosting in the Northeast

I wrote and posted this post on In the Warm Hold last night and then it occoured to me that it really belonged here as well. As I've said many times, I try not to cross post too much because what's the point then? But I started this post thinking it'd be a picture post for the regular blog and it spiraled into a bunch of my thoughts on staying and leaving and beauty and difficulty, which is the kind of post I like to share in this space. It actually occurred to me awhile back that there are a handful of post here that I want there as well and a handful there that I want here, so I'll be doing a little reposting. More on that later, though...
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We got our first real, big snow a few weeks back. They were predicting we'd get a lot more and people were kind of going crazy worrying about the "historic blizzard". Well, mostly Minnie. I got this frantic email from her about it, warning us to stock up and prepare for the electricity to go out (not really a concern in our massive complex). Between ISIS, the "riots" Fox News convinced them have been happening here for the last four months, and this I'm almost sure I'm going to come home to a couple of patients with massive stomach ulcers. [Mick's comfort item is his Pepto bottle, FYI.]

But also I actually saw someone comment on a friend's Instagram that she was in the Trader Joe's in Brooklyn and there was a woman griping about them being out of goat's milk and organic kale. Because those are necessities in a weather emergency right? If you're a North Brooklyn hipster, they sure are. So the fear was real. Even for the Yankees.

Anyway, I was so excited Peyton had the day off. It was a real experience. We thought we'd head over to an adjoining neighborhood to catch some friends sledding, but we realized quickly that was not happening (some areas hadn't been plowed yet). So we just walked to our little neighborhood park. We did spot a bus with chains all around its tires, which I thought was interesting. So much I didn't even think about before living here.

The snow at the park was basically untouched. It was soft and fluffy and perfect. Cold, but as perfect as six inches of frozen matter can be. There's still a good bit of snow on the ground, but these days it's brown and hard as a rock.

I wonder if when we get home, I'll remember the snow as a freezing cotton ball of beauty or as my rock hard nemesis- a potential danger at worst, an annoyance at best. I sort of hope it remains the former in my memory, although that might bring some heartache so maybe it's best if I remember the most of the time (hard, brown) reality. I don't know, even if the snow remains pure and perfect in my reflections, I feel confident the hardships of Winter are etched on my memory. It is clear to me that my body wasn't made for this climate and this Winter I've wondered if my soul maybe wasn't either.

Last Winter I took to it so easily. I was talking with Minnie about why and I think a lot of it was knowing that a good bit of Winter had already passed when we moved. And knowing how much fun we'd have in the warmth if we were having that much fun in the cold.

But I also think....it was God's grace. I have a friend and it's almost a running joke now how much I've been attributing to the Lord's grace lately. I think, for some reason, it's just become much more evident to me and I see Him in the details more. And as I look back on those early days here, equally cold if not colder than the days I've been surviving lately, I know it was. Because my first six weeks here had been this tough and this bitter and this cold? If they had left me so physically dry and so emotionally isolated? I don't know that I ever would have let my heart love this place like it did.

But here I am. Loving the place to the point of grieving our departure in a pretty intense way already. Loving it so much that I often tear up thinking back over our adventures here. Loving it in spite of the chaffing lonely parts and loving it because of the soothing words and friendly faces that ease that pain and discomfort. 

I know I'll remember the hard things about this journey and the beautiful ones. I'll likely remember the snow both on the days we played in it, fresh fallen and pure and the days I shuffled around it, hard and ugly and a hazard particularly for my small people.

I'll remember Brooklyn as a difficult dirty place to live and also as the setting of one of the most incredibly beautiful adventures of my adult life. I'm thankful for both, actually, because both have transformed me and I know I'll never be the same. And I'll treasure the memories of both in my heart.

The First Goodbye (or "Damn,That was Draining")

I had thought that tonight I'd either work on recapping my 2014 goals on the main blog or that I'd not blog at all and go to bed early. I realized I needed to get a few things out, though.

I'm super hormonal (not the pregnant kind, the kind that indicates one is not pregnant), I've been struggling with some stuff lately, and I had a really restless night a couple of nights ago and I woke up this morning just feeling like I had already been run over by a bus. I hate WAKING UP feeling like that. It took us (read: me) forever to get our stuff together and get on the road for the day's adventures and Peyton was understandably frustrated with me and I was with myself. Graves had a generally cranky (and also quite disobedient) day for some reason and really, Annie was the only one of the four of us that didn't spend the majority of the day in some sort of funk. It was extremely out of character for Peyton and Graves (less out of character for me than I'd like to admit).

Anyway, we walked to the piers and played on some awesome playgrounds because though it was cold, it was sunny, and by Yankee standards not unbearable. It's a long walk and we were hustling and I was carrying a book I had gotten to give as a present to Annie's ballet teacher. I actually ended up getting warm and taking off my coat and carrying it as well. So carrying this really bulky coat and also a hardback children's book with a book jacket that I'm trying to be really delicate with so it won't tear (which is why I didn't shove it in a bag or in the stroller). The whole thing was just physically uncomfortable. Then this lady kind of fussed at Peyton because he didn't "let her know" we were behind her when her and her dog were taking up the entire sidewalk. We didn't run her over or anything, of course, she just didn't realize we were there until we got pretty close. He got so irritated with the situation and again, that's so unlike him.

We got to the playground, though, and of course it was totally empty. We played with the kids and slid down the slides ourselves and climbed up them and played in the "bamboo forest" that surrounded them and just sat in the warm sunshine. It was wonderful. We ate a quick snack and headed to ballet.

It was Annie's last class and observation day and I took a bunch of pictures with the big camera and even some videos. Graves behaved so incredibly well. And we gave Miss Patty the children's book I had told her about awhile back and knew I had to get for her when she mentioned her own little girl last week.

I was a little sad to say goodbye to this little piece of Brooklyn that's weekly been a part of our lives for the last six months. I realized last week I would be. I'm not sure if it's because I just love Annie's teacher (a Southern transplant herself) or because I saw how much Annie adored it or because it was our first real goodbye. Or because of those non-baby related hormones. Whatever it was, it was pretty draining. Especially after already having that hit by the bus feeling.

I think some of it has to do with the fact that it's a very permanent, very definite closing of a chapter. While I don't know the extent of how strongly the friendships we've made here will be maintained, I know the important ones will be on some level. I know we'll come back and worship at our old churches, eat dinner with our old friends, and visit our favorite spots. Peyton and I have resolved that we'll visit as frequently as is practical and I know with modern technology, we'll be able to keep up to some degree with our important people and groups.

That's not really the case with Annie's little ballet studio. Tonight we closed the door on that forever. The chaotic waiting area that I used to dread sitting in for an hour with Graves but then became such a special time for just us. The worn out ballet slipper attached to a key that you picked up from a basket to unlock the restroom (shared building, so Brooklyn). The split second strip down from her street clothes to her leotard in the chaotic waiting area that Annie got so skilled at executing. The studio area that was separated by only a curtain so we could hear little girl giggles and classical music (as well as some Cold Play, on occasion), and Miss Patty's kind voice that had such a fancy, proper feel to it when she said "time to begin, my ballerinas in blue!" with almost the pitch of an opera singer. And Miss Patty herself, who I had just recently made friends with and discussed the struggles and joys of city life and who encouraged Annie, and also specifically Graves (she asked several times if he would like to learn when he was big enough), in learning a love of ballet.

I'll probably never see Miss Patty again. Never take the G train two stops and walk down Schermerhorn and do that split second strip down. Never break up a fight over who gets to hold the shoe key. [I mean, unless of course we go home, conceive another child, wait three or so years and move back to Brooklyn where she (or he) then takes ballet from Patty Foster and uses a shoe key for the bathroom and watches her (or his momma) handle the train with three (or so) kids. We've talked about it, actually.]

So it was a sad sort of goodbye, being such a final one.

And being sentimental is pretty much my spiritual gift. Or the curse of Satan. Whichever way you want to look at it.

Awhile after we started walking home Graves began crying and when we asked him what was wrong he said he "didn't get to hug Miss Patty". It broke my heart a little but Peyton sort of scoffed it because he said Graves barely knew her (of course he didn't say that to Graves, just to me). I explained that we had started visiting with her some because we're the last people out of there after Annie's class because I have to get Annie dressed and take them both to the bathroom (part of having a compulsive child means she teetees before she leaves any building with a bathroom). He understood, but he was tired and frustrated and after a good while of moaning, he got on to Graves a bit and then told him he needed to try to take his mind off of it. That's not how I like to handle emotions (distraction) and we had that talk later and Peyton agreed and said in the future he'd engage or step back and let me if he was too frazzled (which I get...sometimes I'm too frazzled and distracting is all I can do). And so that was fine and worked through. But it did leave me a lot more drained.

I also realized tonight that, especially if we stick with homeschooling, it is incredibly INCREDIBLY important that the children's teachers/coaches in extracurriculars are not just good at teaching them a skill but are super encouraging, passionate people who exude kindness and have strong character. That is a tall order, but I have no doubt Jackson is full of people like that. So I learned something new! But still, DRAINED.

And I have cried off and on all night and have such a terrible headache from it. The worst is that I know this is just the beginning of saying goodbye (and of helping our children say goodbye). And that's a little frightening. And draining.

Let's Tell the World: 2014 Slideshow

This year has been amazing, surprising, and life changing. There are not words to do it justice. In my best and biggest dreams, I couldn't envision it this way. It was a joy and a great privilege to call Brooklyn, New York "home" in 2014.

What December Looks Like In Brooklyn (or In My Heart)

The stocking were hung by the curtain rod with care. We not a ton of time left in the game, it seemed dumb to put more nails in the wall or buy something we knew we wouldn't use in Mississippi, so this. They're always one of my favorite things to put out! 

I realized this blog has been a little neglected. We were in Mississippi most of October, and truth be told, it took most of November for me to get caught up on In the Warm Hold. I'm finally there and I felt like I needed to pay this space some attention. I'm going to pick up my "First Quarter Rewind" posts but since we're actually approaching the fourth and final quarter, I'm going to need a new name for it. I feel like there's a lot of fun stuff I want to share, but before that I think I'm long overdue for a feelings post.

I'm sure it was more than obvious that I loved Summer here. So many things about it made it rank among the best seasons of my life.

September came and it was HARD. It was probably the hardest month I've had here. I think most of that had to do with the fact that we were trying to make a lot of decisions, the most pressing one being how much longer we were going to live here but also a lot of other things that we needed to work out but could really only proceed on to once we made our moving decision. We just talked and talked about things and it was exhausting, to be honest. We knew we wanted to be back in Mississippi by Fall 2015, but we kept debating another Brooklyn Summer. A few months may not seem like a huge deal, but as alluded to, this past Summer was like magic.

October was largely dominated with getting ourselves back to Mississippi, getting Cookie married, enjoying Mississippi and our friends at a sort of frantic pace to get it all in, and then getting ourselves back to Brooklyn. It was also difficult, but so, so enjoyable. And it confirmed for me in a lot of ways the decision we finally had arrived at- which was to move home at the beginning of May.

November seemed to fly past us. If September was the hardest month, I think November felt the quickest. I'm not even sure why. We weren't super busy or anything. I'm sure it was because it took a little while to ease back in and once we did it felt like the month was nearly gone. It was an amazing month overall and it was wonderful to be back in the place we call home for now and just immerse ourselves in it. Toward the end of the month, during and after Thanksgiving, I did get really homesick. Much more so than I had in awhile. It was a good few days of it, but I came out of it eventually.

December seems to have brought a lot to the surface. I'm realizing how fleeting our time here is. I'm trying to take it in even more than I ordinarily do. There are so many times that my throat tightens and tears well up because I realize we're doing something for the last, or only, time.

Some of it is the big stuff- we went to see the balloons being blown up for the Macy's parade the on the eve of Thanksgiving and we're planning to make a special trip into Manhattan to see the big tree at Rockefeller Center. There's a handful of other things like that. But a lot of times it's the more mundane that pulls at my heart like a stubborn little tug-o-war playing child.

Every night- every single night- when I sit down at my computer to blog or email a friend or whatever, I make a point to sit (really sit!) and look at the lights strung around the courtyard. They're those bigger bulbs, about the size of a plum; but shaped more like an avocado, of course; and they're all different colors. In the past that hasn't really been my style exactly, but it's so magical and perfect to me here. They stretch out like a rainbow Candyland gameboard along the different paths that form the courtyard area of the complex. It feels cheerful and festive and beautiful and I love to just sit and be in those moments. I've tried taking a picture through the window and they come out horrible, understandably. I keep meaning to head down there and take some shots and I've promised myself that I will before the 25th.

The one big heart/head thing I have that I can't get to subside (and I know that realistically, it will probably be a long long time before it does) is that literally every day there is at least one moment where I feel either a  powerful homesickness for what (and who) I miss in Mississippi or a poignant heartache for what (and who) we're leaving behind in Brooklyn. The hardest days are when I end up having to navigate both.

I know, in truth, this will probably be the reality of my life for a good while. Probably even after we get back home and settled, I'll deal a lot with the heartache and with a new found homesickness for a place that has been, very truly, HOME for awhile.

I've mentioned, either here or on my other blog that my friend Carrie made the point that just like loving a person, falling in love with a place is a risk. I can think of very few (actually, I can't think of any) times in my life where loving a person wasn't worth the risk to my heart. And Brooklyn has been worth the heart-risk a thousand times over.

I'm so thankful for it.

Even though 2014 is the last full year we will call Brooklyn "home"; Peyton, Annie, Graves, and I will carry little pieces of this adventure in our hearts for the rest of our lives. And that's incredible, and beautiful, and in some ways to me still knock you--out shocking.

I am thankful. I am joyful. And I am home.

For now.

Sun Scorched Pavement and the Beauty of a Brooklyn Summer

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• Back near the end of June I posted about Summer in the city. Here it is September first and I feel like I need to write at least once more about something that's been such a special season of my life. Even if I say the exact same thing in different words, it's itching to come out. 

The above photograph is one of my absolute favorites from New York, one of my favorites ever, really. I have a good feeling it will be sitting, framed, somewhere in our home long after the little boy and girl in it cease to live there. 

It's sort of the quintessential urban children picture to me. Little children enjoying a steamy day, playing in a gushing fire hydrant on the sun-scorched pavement of our city streets. And at a block party no less. Feels like something from yesteryear. I'll treasure it always. 

And I'll treasure this Summer itself always. It's been different from any other time in my life. So many happy memories have been made in the months between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Planned outings to parades and street fairs and festivals and often even better just stumbling upon of someone's block party, or drumline performance, or mural painting celebration complete with Spanish music and food. 

That day, back in May, when we found ourselves passing a college graduation. I vividly remember a small framed, older Middle Eastern woman- covered head to toe as is her culture's tradition- and wearing the brightest smile of anyone I've ever seen holding a diploma. 

The notably too infrequent trips to the public pool where the ladies sort of smiled because we didn't bring locks and wore tennis shoes and asked questions about how to work the mandatory pre-entry showers. The free lunches they were so awfully insistent on providing our pretty obviously middle class kids. 

The Sunday morning bus rides with all the older ladies in hats and heels. 

All the nights when I'd click on the national news right before going to bed and watch apprehensively, hoping nothing truly terrible would happen, from a place far away (and a position for away) as night would fall on a midwestern town and people would try to sort through their sadness and anger and fears. Ferguson belongs on this list because I doubt I will ever reflect deeply on this Summer without it coming to mind. It's bittersweet and the only only sweetness is in the hope I have that tomorrow can be better for our brothers and sisters of color. 

The afternoon we discovered the different playgrounds at the Brooklyn piers and the kids got so dirty there was absolutely no way to get all the stains out of their clothes and for the very first time I literally gave not one teeny tiny damn. 

The stupidly amazing, given that it was eighties hair band music, Broadway show with Claire and the freezing cold Five Guys we ate at afterwards. 

Every minute we spent with my mom showing her the streets and nooks and corners of the city we love.

• The almost weekly visits to Coney Island for fair rides and fireworks and cotton candy and other silliness. The putting to bed of our small, sandy, salty, Coney Island-encrusted children on a pallet on the floor because it's 1:30 AM and we just were not going to bathe them.

The three people who live in this little eight hundred square foot space with me, a handful of others that we've befriended through various venues, and truthfully the eight point three million people that make this place what it is. 

All of that has combined to make this past Summer in Brooklyn beautiful and a time in my life I'll never forget.  

Characters

The other night at Coney Island we were standing outside a candy shop and a lady right beside Annie said "I'm going to eat everything in this fucking place". This happens on the regular. It's an interesting sort of place to try to grow up. But honestly, I've never been sad about any of the people Annie's been exposed to here. Even the difficult ones. That week, three different people stopped us and told us what a beautiful family we have. Two we had short convos with. I'll love this city, so full of characters, for the rest of my life. It will be a part of me long after I cease to be a part of it. 

Comfortable. Safe. Alive.

[I shared this post over on my main blog a few weeks ago and it occurred to me that I'd like to have it as part of our story in the space, too.]
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This is another hard post to write. I'm actually kind of glad to be writing it, though, because now that I've written the church posts and this one, I think it'll be a weight off my chest.

It's hard because honestly it was hard for me to even admit to myself I felt these things. This was at least a month ago and I had been doing some metacognition- thinking about thinking- involving my feelings on the city. I finally was able to boil it down to three things and the night that I told Peyton I was in tears. Partly, I think I was relieved to be able to finally articulate it in a concise way. But partly I was terrified to be honest with myself about how much I love this place. What did that mean for our future? [That is a whole other post, but I'll briefly touch on it at the end.]

But part of it is hard because I don't want to be disloyal to the South. I love the South so, so very much. It still has, and will always have, a huge chunk of my heart. There relationships there that we could never replace. There are, I've realized recently, experiences there that we could never replicate elsewhere. And there's a culture there that is truly ineffable. Like the city, I so adore the place and the peoples of the South. Kudzu country is a beloved land and I never want to dishonor or demean it.

Anyway, with the disclaimer out of the way, here's why I feel such a strong adoration for this place....

I feel more comfortable here. I know I say it a lot but I love our 800 square foot space. I think two hundred square feet for each of us really must be the magic number =) I like how our clothes fit in the closets because I was careful to bring just my favorites (i.e. the things I actually wear). I like how the kids each have a bowl they eat dry cereal out of in the morning and then they each have a divided plate that they use for lunch. I hand wash it and they use it for dinner. I wash it again after they eat and it's ready for the next day. Like literally, they use two plates and two bowls (and utensils and a few cups when necessary). It's so simple and so nice not to have a cabinet overflowing with sippy cups and plastic plates.

More than that, I love our pared down schedule. We are pretty much only doing things we like to do. I was emailing with a friend this week and it helped me to try to articulate what I like about our pace and our way of living here.

 I think a lot of it has to Peyton's schedule more than mine and the kids'. Neither of us thought it would be such a big deal for him not to be a manager at the pharmacy but it's been HUGE. There's just a lot less he's responsible for at his store, so when he leaves he's really done with work- no making schedules, training techs, going in to interview somebody on his day off, ect. And being in charge effected his stress level a lot more than either of us realized. Also, he's not doing Pharmacy Association stuff and picking up extra weekends and that kind of thing up here, which makes a difference. 

I think we also just tried really hard here to only do things we care about. When we get home, I'm going to make sure that the volunteer stuff I do are things I'm passionate about, even if it's more inconvenient. Going to the South Bronx once a week showed me that it's worth it. 

The last big difference is Peyton's work schedule. I know a lot of people would hate it and I thought I might myself. But for some reason it's easier for me to compartmentalize things. I love that on the days he's off we have a totally different schedule. And honestly, I love my days at home with the kids, mostly. On the days he's off, I don't think about blogging or anything until the kids are in bed for the night. I know I'm probably not going to take a nap or read blogs or whatever else I want to do to relax. And I know we'll probably walk a lot and I'll be really tired. On the days he works, it's a long day by myself with the kids but I try to get ALL of Annie's school done and I get to just relax some during naptime. To me, it's easier splitting it up that way than when he was going into work at eleven. And I love that his schedule is more concrete. It's easier for me to keep up with and it's predictable. 

I partly think my perspective has changed, too. I think this experience has sort of helped me to train myself to look for the good in situations (when that is NOT my natural inclination). I just started out doing that and it's become (a little!) more natural. Peyton was saying just today that he feels like I've gotten a lot more laid back, too. Which, we all know I'm SUPER HIGH STRUNG. But it works both ways, I think he's gotten to where he is a lot more appreciative of me and he's more likely to affirm and validate me in things. 

All that to say, I'm more comfortable with my home and with my calendar than I think I've ever been. 

I feel more safe here. Wait a minute- safer than in the suburbs in the 'Sip? Well, not like you're thinking.

I feel safer to be myself, I guess. Or to explore what that means. Sometimes people mention that it must be hard living in such a different environment. One time a friend asked me if it was hard to live in a more liberal environment, in regards to our faith- like was it hard to not be around more conservative, like-minded Christians? First of all, no doubt it's a largely secular urban environment. But one thing I told my friend- who actually doesn't live in the South- is that in a way, that's sort of refreshing. Because the people that are at church on Sunday? Are there because they want to be. People are just so authentic. Secondly, it's not like everyone here is a raging radical liberal. We've found friends who are faithful believers in orthodox doctrine. We're not all up here worshiping our spirit animals or watching Oprah to get tips on living a faithful life. Lastly, and this is what I was trying to get to, I think I feel safer here to share some of our opinions. Like, we feel more comfortable talking about how for us being pro-life means being against drone warfare. Or how we really feel more passionate about fighting poverty than fighting marriage amendments. I certainly don't expect everyone to agree with us, but I feel more at ease putting those things on the table. Especially with people who are casual friends or acquaintances.

I've seen this in other areas, as well. Someone also asked me about how differently people parent here. And it's interesting to watch. I think because there are SO many different styles- from very strict Orthodox Jewish families to people who don't believe in punitive consequences at all- there's a very live and let live mentality. Nobody cares if Graves is fully potty trained. Several times, at church and other things, I've mentioned it in an embarrassed way. And instead of a good natured scolding and "He is THREE, Mom!" people say it doesn't matter and/or encourage me with stories about their little boys taking forever. Literally no one here cares if my son poops in his pants and it's so refreshing. And nobody gives a damn if he sleeps with his pacifier. The other day we were at the park and I noticed the environment. There was a mom breastfeeding in a very casual way. And half the kids playing in the sprinkler had on their skivies. Now, I'm not going to let my kids run around in their underwear likes it's our backyard, but it was cool to me that there's that kind of freedom and liberty to parent how you see fit.

The last thing is kids' behavior. It's no big secret that I spent some of my earlier parenting days, especially when Graves was newly fresh, way overly self-conscious. So much so that it was really anxiety inducing and almost debilitating at times. That's not everyone in Mississippi's fault at all, a LOT of that is one me, but I do think living in a different culture has helped me immensely. I think people here expect children to be children more. They don't necessarily coddle them, but I think there is more grace for hard days and and such. There's also not so much a "children should be seen and not heard" type thing. I mean we take wild Graves to The Met, for crying out loud. We also take him to church, something I'm not sure I'd be brave enough for at home.

Lastly, I feel more alive here. This is the hardest one to try to pin down and articulate. I'm not sure I even can put words to it. It's not about the big, exciting NEW!YORK!CITY! things. It's really not. It's in the every day.I just feel so much vibrancy all around me. The colors seem brighter, the sounds louder, the smells stronger. And for some reason, this makes me feel alive. I guess when I see and feel and hear and smell humanity more strongly, I feel more human myself. I feel like I'm part of an amazing story that is much, much bigger than myself.

We're moving home. We don't know when exactly, but we are. There's a plethora of reasons and as I said, that's a post for another day. But I'm going to take as much of this comfort, these safe feelings, and this very real experience of knowing I'm alive with me as I can. I'm going to focus on maintaining a home and a lifestyle that is simple and happy. I'm going to surround myself with people who make me feel safe, I'm going to do my best to be honest when people don't, and I'm going to fight the insecurity within myself that is so often my own issue. I'm going to force myself to see a vibrant humanity- even if it's a little harder with vehicles and single family homes and such- and remind myself that I'm part of it, part of an amazing story that is much, much bigger than myself.

Hot Town, Summer in the City

I said a bit about it my June Happenings post on the regular blog, but I adore Summer in the city. There's an ugly beautiful that I've come to search for in my life and it's so, so good.

I think Winter in the city is so beautiful, but it's draining and exhausting. And honestly, it hasn't been the experience Summer has been. Winter pushed me inward for a bit and I think the time for processing was good. I'm also glad that we did Winter first because most anything I can do in snow and ice I can do in sunshine and humidity.

I have another post coming (one I'm frankly terrified to write) about the way I've fallen in love with this place and part of that has been experiencing a Summer here.

I think what I love about Summer in the city is the vibrancy of it all. How very much alive everything, and everyone, feels.

I said a lot of this in that other post but Summer seems to bring a different mood to the street. Friends here had warned me this could be a negative thing-  lots of loud house parties raging into the wee hours of the morning, especially in less affluent neighborhoods; more gun violence provoked by the boredom that ensues when school isn't in session; and just more people out and about stirring up trouble simply because it's warm enough to do so. 

But I love seeing what all else comes out with the sunshine. A new fascination of mine is culture- urban culture, specific racial and ethnic cultures, church culture here- all different kinds of culture. And I think in the Summer, we are better able to observe that. A few years ago, I would have been a little surprised if you told me that I'd be living in a very urban, very diverse neighborhood and I would have laughed in your face if you told me that a part of me would smile when Summer came and the rap music (which I mostly have a strong disdain for) gets turned up and the cars bump bump a little more. As I bee bop down the street with my tiny people, it gives me a little thrill because it seems so indicative of our new place and I love that there's a soundtrack to our lives even if it's a different soundtrack than the on.

Not only are the streets less desolate, but in the evenings most everyone in our building has their windows open, enjoying the night breeze. Central air is pretty much not a thing here and lots of people have those loud window units. We have one, but the fresh air is so much more desirable when it's cool enough. Anyway, you can hear a blended buzz of conversations from all over the complex. Most evenings, the courtyard that our apartment looks into is full and there's a chatter coming from there as well.

Summer here feels easy and laid back. Which is great, because it takes most of my energy just getting places since it's gotten hot. I already found my Summer uniform here- denim shorts, Toms or Converse, and one of handful of super soft v-neck t-shirts. On the days Peyton's off and we actually do things, I get a little cuter, but this is what I throw on to take the children to the playground or run an errand. I know that in a year or so when we get back home, there will be tears shed over those t-shirts as I remember our lovely walks on the days it was just the three of us.

On pretty days when Peyton's working, we've been going to the park almost every day. The sprinklers are on and it's such a no-fuss activity. It's easy and is perfect for the time between naps and supper. I asked Peyton last night why it seemed so much more daunting to load up and go to the splash pad at home. I think some of it is my motivation and a more flexible schedule. But some of it is truly logistical. It's so much easier to dry them both off with one towel and stick it under Graves's bottom in the stroller rather than fool with carseats. By the time we walk home, they're half dry. Walking to the grocery story around the corner seems easier, too, because there's no car seat to heave them in and out of. Of course, there's a lot of transit, like the bus and the subway, that's still unquestionably harder.

We get (cheap!) fresh produce on the way home from things and we indulge in ice cream and sno cones a good bit. The fridge is filled with egg salad and Kool Aid and those simple things make me so happy.

There's often a soccer game going on at the big park near us and the sunbathers are out in full force in Central Park.

There are street fairs, festivals, block parties, outdoor movie nights, flea markets and ferry rides. We're trying to explore different playgrounds and now that patios are open, restaurants we hadn't considered taking the kids to are now options.

The city has so much to offer, but more than anything it offers it's people and it offers a different perspective. The other night we strolled by the projects- something we would have been terrified to do when we first moved. I heard some great (loud!) music coming from a couple different apartments and I looked up and saw a girl with an afro in one window, dancing and getting ready for the night. For some reason, I loved that moment. I can only dream about what her story is, but I felt a connection to her, to the city, and to humanity.

I think Summer is giving me that, this connectedness. It feels right to be a part of this place and I feel so grateful for the experiences we're having. In some ways, I feel more alive than I ever have in my life.


And in case you needed a little Lovin' Spoonful fix, here ya go:

Adventures in Being Uncomfortable

Peyton and I found out about, and felt this huge tug, toward a ministry in the South Bronx. By many standards, it's the most impoverished area in the United States and I've got to be real here- I was terrified. Mostly for my children's safety, because I've heard it described as " a third world country", a war zone", and worse. We went for the first time yesterday and y'all. It was amazing. It reminded me so much of MDO days- something I've longed for since the day I quit. But different, because mommas weren't doing much needed grocery shopping or going to doctor's appointments sans little ones; they were in a nearby room attending a parenting class on positive discipline. One little boy spent a good chunk of the time in my lap. He was missing his momma so bad. Peyton kept trying to distract him and at first I did, too. But then I started just pulling him closer and promising him over and over again that his momma would be back for him. I'm wary of telling other people's stories, but I found out later that he's had some major disruptions in his tiny life. I knew my words had been perfect for him. I'm serious when I say I've never really had a moment like that. I just felt the Spirit moving in such a powerful way. I would have been more than content to never leave my vanilla life of suburbia in the 'sip, even for a temporary adventure. I'm so thankful God gave me someone who never could be. And I'm so proud of him when I saw the way the little boys gravitated toward him when they saw a man in the room and then stuck like glue to him while he read stories and played with animal figures. Maybe the best day yet! Peyton, thank you for forcing us into hard places, powerful cities, and forgotten neighborhoods. So glad to be living your our dream together.

Feelings from the First Two Weeks

I've hardly blogged at all since we got here (I've kept up with my Weekly Happenings posts on my regular blog and I wrote one post about our beginings here after the first weekend). While that's been good and maybe even neccessary, I know I'll regret it later if all I have is a record of what we did during this initial time and not a journal of all the overwhelming emotions.

Valentine's marked two weeks that we've been in Clinton Hill. In Brooklyn. In New York City. It's been a HUGE transition for me and some days are great and some days are pretty rough. Awhile back, I sent a Facebook message to Peyton (we couldn't really text well because of issues with his phone) and in it I said "hard is hard, yo". I was being sort of silly, sort of serious. Anyway, it's become a bit of a catchphrase between us and between me and a few of my close friends. I think it's important to keep a perspective on how great my circumstances are, but also to feel the freedom in acknowlding difficulty. So far, everyone around me has been really gracious about allowing me that as well.

That said, it's been overwhelmingly more good than I had really predicted- at least initially.

 I had thought I'd HATE walking so much. Suprisingly, I really don't. For some reason, and maybe it's just in my head, but it's so much easier to walk here (physically) than in Mississippi (I mean, aside from the FEET of snow, ha!). I noticed it when we visited in August and I've felt it now, too. I think it has to do with the incredible humidity back in the MS, but I would get out of breathe so easily (even in cooler tempatures) and it just exhausted me more. It's been REALLY cold (like one night we got in and I freaked out because I couldn't feel my fingers to unzip my jacket and it totally felt like something straight out of a Jack London novel and I knew I was going to DIE) and I haven't had appropriate shoes/clothes because it took so long to get our stuff, but even still...not so bad.

I was also worried about being cold ALL the time, like even inside. Not the case. There are laws governering heat control in NYC and basically heat is included in the rent and it's required to be kept above a certain tempature. Ultimately, it's much more comfortable to me here than what Peyton kept it on back at home. To some people, I think it might be a little too warm- I saw a ceiling fan on in the window of a building across the courtyard! This may not seem like a huge deal, but I'm SUPER irritable when I'm cold. Not really outside, but when I'm in my own house. Like just want to scream irritable. So that was a really big positive.

Speaking of, I love our little apartment so much. This is going to be terribly hard to explain, but there's something about having all my stuff "close" that I love. I'm enjoying our bed being in the middle of the living room with all our books and the one TV and the kitchen literally steps away. It totally reminds me of college and maybe this is weird, but I dig it. Also, the kids' room is working out really well. At our house at home, their room was actually smaller (someone of Facebook assessed the situation quickly after seeing it- they got the master) and their toys were kind of all over the house. Contained and organized, sure, but very spread out. Here the stuff that was in the den and the play kitchen that they didn't even use much because it was in the (off limits to Graves) real kitchen is all in thier room. I really like it being contained that way and in some ways our little flat with the sleeper sofa seems like it may turn out to be a more sophisticated abode because of the lack of excess kid crap everywhere.

I'm loving the small indulgences, as well. We've gotten some really amazing take out and it's been great to just sit and visit with Peyton or watch TV together. At home, we would spend a good bit of time in seperate rooms and even though I'm planning to get the guest room set up with the big computer in there, I hope it will be less of an issue.

Finally, I'm loving the freedom from obligations. While I loved everything we did at home (Annie's school, our church, ect.), it's nice to have a break from that. Peyton has said several times that if nothing else this adventure will be worth it because we can press "reset" and just sort of reprioritize and analyze the places we truly should be involved. This is really huge with him because he has a lot of things he really wants to do and it will be good for him to pull back from some of them (like working extra hours) and reasses. I know we'll get busy with all kinds of stuff up here, but it's been a nice break.  I feel like this paragraph makes me sound super lazy, so I do want to include that like I said above, Peyton and I are spending more time being present with each other. Another thing is that in some ways I feel like I actually talk to some people (my sister, for instance) more than I did before and I love that.

Additionally, Peyton has seemed really happy, accomodating, and quick to compliment me. He seems like he laughs more easily and is just in a wonderful mood. I don't think it's a permanent thing where he'll always be more good-natured in his beloved city, but I think the "reset" thing is really helping him. Also, while I know he misses his coworkers from his store in Byram, his job here is actually much more low stress in the sense that it's a much "slower" store. I don't think either of us realized the toll his job was taking on him at home. Of course, he's getting tons more excercise just walking around and I think that lifts his mood. And I think he's just excited to be here, living a dream!

Like I said, though, this adventure has already been not without hard emotions. It's been more "stress" than "sadness", which is something I hadn't really anticipated. I think a lot of it has to do with how long it's taken/taking to get settled. There's still some left unpack and we don't have access to the storage space (for carseats, cat carriers, ect.) that is part of our lease until March, so we'll kind of be at a standstill even when most of our stuff is unpacked. There have just been some days, especially before our stuff got here (it was almost two weeks) where I just literally felt like I wanted to rip off my skin or punch every living soul I saw in the face. I get sadness and sorrow, but rarely do I get frustrated and angry like that. I'm feeling more and more like myself the further and further along this place comes and those moments were (THANKFULLY) pretty fleeting.

And I know I've been able to take it in stride more than I would have a few years ago. Cookie sent me a text the other night saying how "easy going" I had gotten and I really appreciated her words. It reminded me of the time in Charleston when Annie was about three months old and Cookie told me I had really grown up and wasn't so high maintenance after becoming a mom because I totally acted like a normal person and just ordered something else when they didn't have a grilled cheese on the menu. (FWIW, we had just driven thirteen hours in a Buick with five people, stopping every two and a half hours (per doctor's orders) so I could nurse Ann Peyton. 

That got me thinking. In some ways, I think I handle "big" stressors better than small, daily things that are really no big deal. For example, I told some of my friends that honestly, overall these two weeks were probably less stressful than the week we had to transition Graves out of his crib because he kept climbing/jumping out. For some reason, that sent me into orbit more than this. Probably because it messed up my routine and I couldn't ever see it returning to normal.

Another example is how I used to be (and probably still would be) really uncomfortable taking the kids in a department store in the double stroller by myself. Alot of that had to do with Graves's behavior and how unpredictable he was and how for some reason a store with "carts" were much more in my comfort zone. But, I plopped them in that thing and basically jogged to make our connecting flight two weeks ago and since then I've taken them on a couple of spins by myself- each time involving going down about three stairs at the co-op that there's just no way around. I'm still stratagizing if there's a better way to do that- right now I leave Graves strapped in and make Annie get out and manhandle the thing down the steps, but it looks like he (and I) are about to die and more than anything I'm scared someone going to walk up and chastise me about it. I think that is what it ultimately comes down to for me. Some lady fussed at me about not having them dressed warmly enough and a security guard was rude (two seperate days) and I just take those things to heart. I think that's why I used to be so scared of going in Belk with them or of taking them to friends' birthday parties. I was just SO concerned with being judged by other people. One of my goals this year is to work on letting that not affect me as much.

I will say that I've had a few sad days as well as lots of stressful ones. They've been similar to ones I had at home, though. But there is a sense of lonliness and of fear of the unknown as far as how long we'll be here and such. One thing that has been incredibly helpful is talking and texting a LOT with my friends and family. Another thing that is helpful is knowing that we have friends who are planning to come visit. Ashley and Carrie are coming in May and Cookie and Conrad are coming on Labor Day weekend, I think. Ellis and Minda are also planning to come and those all give me things to look foward to.

One REALLY hard thing I didn't anticipate is how hard my dad is taking it. I knew it would be difficult for my mom and it has been I know, but overall she's coped really well. Daddy's just broken down in tears a few times, though (not in front of me) and that breaks my heart to hurt him that way. He's so incredibly close to Graves (and Ann Peyton, but he and Graves have a special bond) and I know when he sees pictures of his little buddy smiling in the snow it's killing him. Daddy is not one given to much emotion, so I know this is an intense greif he's feeling, if only for a seaon. I told Peyton the other night that by the time we get back home, even if it is only a year, Graves will be a very different little boy. So much changes between almost three and almost four. Again, I'm heartbroken over that. And I'm just very, VERY thankful for modern technology.

The other thing that's been hard has been navigating this with Annie. Graves is mostly excited about any and all adventures so that's really been a non-issue. And Ann Peyton has done great, mostly. But she did get really scared of the subway and she also had one night where she cried and said she wanted to go back to Mississippi. It was a long, hard night but I'm thankful that was mostly it. I realize we're very fortuant to have made the transition so easily, but that one night made me ache for her so badly.

I'm also just really craving more routine. While I've loved being without outside obligations, I'm itching to get back in the game with homeschooling and I'm really ready to start blogging more consistantly. Both kind of stress me out that I'm falling behind and while it's more stress than sadness, I feel like stress inevietably leads to anxiousness which leads to sadness and I think some of sad days are intensified by not having a routine in place.

Again, little things bring me comfort, though. For example, before the move, I seperated a good many toys that just aren't developmentally appropriate for Graves and packed them in a different box. When we unpacked our books, I made a little section of the bookself espesially for Annie to enjoy during Graves's naptime and so far it's been a big success. Little things like that are helping me feel "centered" and like something is in my control.

So much isn't, though, and I know that's a big lesson (maybe THE big lesson) in this adventure.

This is our second weekend here that Peyton's had to work and I still couldn't figure out a way to make church happen for the three of us. There are literally two churches within walking distance- one is an Episcopal one that I think will just lean too liberal for my tastes and one is a Baptist church that I can tell is basically 100% African American. I'm planning to check out both (I'm really open to at least trying anything that is a legitimate Christian church, i.e. not the Church of Scientology or whatever), but I'm planning to do it when Peyton can go with us. Also, in time I know I'll be able to navigate the buses (and hopefully the subway) by myself with the kids and that will open up a lot of options to us.

 I know I'll figure out something eventually, but I really beat myself up (and again, got way to worried about people's hypothetical opinions). Thankfully God has whispered to me (in the voice of a sweet friend and in my own conviction) that He is here in the chaos and that there is abundant grace for a few Sundays not spent the traditional way. I'm certianly praying that the road to our temporary church home is a short one, but I'm finding the Lord in so many new ways in the interim. I'm learning to trust Him more, to talk to Him more, and to let go of being in control.

I'm so thankful for this adventure, if for nothing else the way it's helping me learn about myself, the way it's making me appreciate the relationships I have and stretch myself to form new ones, and the way it's helping me to grow in my faith.

A Kingdom of Love Waiting to Be Reclaimed: Thoughts on The Last Phase of the Search

Over the past year we've done a lot of thinking and talking about where we'd like to end up in the city. You can read more about it here, if you're interested:

The Search (for our new home) Begins- This is where we first started discussing neighborhoods. It's funny to look back at our initial options.
The Search (for our new home) Continues- We got ready for our big trip in August.
The Search (for our new home) Narrows (Part 1)- I sort of went over priorities as far as what we were looking for on the trip.
The Search (for our new home) Narrows (Part 2)- I recapped and ranked each neighborhood we visited on the trip. It helped me process things a lot to do this way- listing the pros and cons and rating them accordingly.

And now here we are! I really meant to write more of my thoughts as we went along, but I just haven't gotten to it. Peyton left on New Year's Eve and I've been solo parenting two kids who've been sick for about half of that time. I also wanted to go ahead and do some "year's end" type posts I like to do on my regular blog.

But, a lot has happened in the last couple of weeks. It all seems like a blur and yet it feels like time is moving in slow motion.

We knew going in we were trying for Clinton Hill or Fort Greene. We also knew we'd extend our search to Carroll Gardens, Cobble Hill, Park Slope, and Prospect Heights if that became necessary.

Right after Peyton got there, we found a listing for an apartment and Peyton said "I think that could be our home". It was in Clinton Hill, but near a border area so it was less expensive, but still safe enough we felt like. And it had a YARD. It was more like a concrete slab, but a patio. I was so impressed and loved it. Well, we found out real fast that it was too good to be true.

Apparently, one thing some brokers do is list things that aren't even really on the market and when you inquire about them they push you toward other similar (or not really similar) properties they are listing. Also, some brokers just have too many listings to manage and aren't able to keep up with them all so they stay on a site for a while after they've been rented. I was sad we weren't getting it, but I knew we were just starting.

Initially, we looked at a few other things and nothing seemed to really fit our needs at all except the co-op in Clinton Hill. I wasn't at all ready to say no to it, but I felt a pull that it wasn't yet time. There are TONS of benefits to it (an elevator, doorman, courtyard, possibly the chance to know our neighbors better than in a brownstone, the community feel, the SPACE AND STORAGE). At the same time, in my opinion, it's an eyesore. If I was going to be living in Brooklyn I really wanted the brownstone-stoop-tree lined block experience.

Then we found this in Prospect Heights and this in Clinton Hill and went back and forth debating the pros and cons of each (proximity to parks/amazing library/laundry place vs. living in a neighborhood we loved). We debated it a bit that night and Peyton messaged brokers about seeing them in the morning. I secretly prayed one would fall through. They both did and I was really disappointed again. I figured surely one would work.

We searched and found a few more things, kept the co-op on the table (we had, at that point, payed the fifty dollar application fee and our broker had taken down the listing, so we knew we weren't going to lose it), and missed another listing I was really interested in. After that, we decided to broaden our search a bit. We still had one potential apartment in Fort Greene and we found one in Carroll Gardens and one in Park Slope we thought might work.

We decided that Carroll Gardens was too expensive for what it was. It was spacious, but the area wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as some and I felt like if we were going to go that route, we might as well stay with the co-op. We loved the one in Park Slope, but all along we felt like the neighborhood wasn't the best fit (it's just not as diverse as Clinton Hill/Fort Greene) and additionally the space was a good bit smaller than what we were looking for and not well laid out.

So that left us with the one on Adelphi Street in Fort Greene. Again, I wasn't sold because the block wasn't as pretty as some others, but I felt like it was a strong possibility. Peyton visited and measured the spaces and it looked good.

The next morning I found a beautiful apartment on a gorgeous block in Boerum Hill that was listed for a hundred dollars more than the top of our price range. I had Peyton contact the guy and was so excited because it was close to SO many things (a nice park within three blocks, a library that was a five minute walk and a public pool that was ten; a short bus trip to Brooklyn Tabernacle and a fifteen to twenty minute stroll to the Fort Greene farmer's market on Saturdays). It seemed IDEAL. Not to mention it had in-unit washer and dryer. The guy called Peyton and told him it was actually two hundred dollars more than what it was listed for. Three hundred bucks a month over the top of our range- not doable. I cried that time. Peyton found a (very!) similar one and inquired about it and it turned out to be another one that had "just rented that morning, but let me show you some options in Carroll Gardens and Park Slope" (aka a fraud). I got upset again.

That morning, Peyton revisited Adelphi Street in Fort Greene and was shown a property on Downing Street in Clinton Hill. We knew from the listings both were good options and we decided we'd either settle with one or go with the co-op. Peyton seemed to like the Fort Greene one more because there was a park across the street and it was a more comfortable environment (while Downing isn't unsafe at all, you do see homeless people frequently as well as unsavory characters and there's more trash around). However, we agreed Downing was prettier from a housing/architectural standpoint. When he visited Downing, he also realized that the storage/space was much better and it had an in-unit washer and dryer, something I had become so undone about that morning (and something I had really not thought was even on the table for almost all of this process). It was higher than what we had decided we'd pay AND someone else was looking at the apartment AT THE SAME EXACT TIME and saying she wanted it. Whoa. The broker took Peyton aside, though, and told him that he had priority because she was showing it to him first. They contacted the landlord and settled on a price we were comfortable with and it seemed all that was left was formalities. We thought we were home.

Y'all know how this story ends. The next day the broker told Peyton they wouldn't rent to us because we had children and I was blown away by it and truthfully, really hurt. Annie asked me what happened (I had told her I thought we had found THE apartment and showed her a picture) and I told her that it just wasn't going to work out for our family. I'd never tell her the reason, but I just felt sick at my stomach thinking that someone would turn us away because of her and her brother. Even though the laws are the same, it's obviously very, VERY different from being discriminated against in other ways, but it was the first time I was never allowed to do something because of the size of our family.

We obviously ended up talking ourselves into the co-op. Actually, I was really undecided and sort of wanted to keep looking. Peyton was set on the co-op and while he really, really wanted a brownstone, he's just more practical and had rationalized it more. Honestly, when it comes down to the wire, he ends up making decisions a lot of the time. Mostly because he's just more opinionated than me (never thought I'd marry someone like that!). Anyway, this was something I wanted to stand my ground on, but I also just wanted to let someone else make the final call. I was texting Ashley and Carrie about it and I told them that I didn't want to automatically let Peyton decide like I usually do and sweet Carrie (who knew how stressed I was) told me "I think when you're so stressed you want to jump out of your skin, that's a great time to defer to your husband".

She put a winky face next to the sentence, but I honestly think the Lord used her to speak to me in that situation. I had been holding in the tears (after hours of crying that morning) and I just burst into sobs. I knew it was going to be okay to go ahead. Ashley said something similar and it was if my friends were giving me permission to let this go. It seemed like so many people were pushing for the other and saying we could make it work and I know they were ALL doing it out of love for me and because they knew how important it was for me, but in the end I think I needed someone other than Peyton to tell me that it was okay to "give in" and go with the co-op.

I still cried a few more times and the weekend was stressful because for a bit we got worried we had somehow lost it, too. But overall, I have such a good feeling about it at this point.

Obviously, I have done exactly none of the leg work, which ironically occurred during the great "polar vortex" of 2014. But I will say that this process has been exhausting. Being away from Peyton hasn't been easy, but the solo parenting has, most days, been easier than I anticipated. I credit it all to God's grace and to the kids somehow sliding into this really neat stage where they entertain themselves and each other well and play almost like peers. But the actual process of house hunting has been brutal and I never really expected it to be such. Probably because I didn't realize how much I cared.

At one point during the process, Peyton made me aware that CBS was going to stream Bruce Springsteen's new album that was yet to be released as part of a promotion for The Good Wife, which would contain three songs from the album. We listened to it together, twelve hundred miles between us, and had such an enjoyable time discussing it. These lyrics to my absolute favorite track seemed so fitting. Even though it's a love song, it seemed right for the moment.

Well I woke last night to the heavy clicking and clack
And a scarecrow on fire along the railroad tracks
There were empty cities and burning plains
I am the hunter of invisible game

Sadly, that brownstone was the invisible game that I'm now convinced was completely elusive. In all of Clinton Hill and really all the areas we were comfortable with, I don't think it really existed. Maybe after months we could have found it, but it wasn't there when we needed it. And the truth is, I need my family together more than I need any kind of beautiful home.

Strength is vanity and time is illusion
I feel you breathing, the rest is confusion
Your skin touches mine, what else to explain
I am the hunter of invisible game

I've only cried a few times exclusively because I missed Peyton. But when I read these lyrics, I did. Your skin touches mine, what else to explain? That is why I love Bruce Springsteen. His music makes me fall in love all over again and his poetry is just so intimate without being disturbingly erotic.

Now pray for yourself and that you may not fall
When the hour of deliverance comes on us all
When our hope and faith and courage and trust
Can rise or vanish like dust into dust
Now there's a kingdom of love waiting to be reclaimed
I am the hunter of invisible game

Maybe the most poignant of all. I've said over and over that Peyton and I are in the best place we've seen yet in our marriage. And I just said that our children are in the best place they've been in their relationship with each other, which is quite the statement because they've long been incredibly devoted siblings to one other. But....I wake up every morning, literally every morning, since we decided on the co-op, and have this HUGE excitement about this adventure wash over me. 

 I know there will be days where it is so, so terribly hard. And that's okay. I'm ready for them. I ate frozen mozzarella sticks by myself for dinner last night and they were so incredibly delicious. I thought about the year I nursed Graves despite his dairy intolerance (it was truly of the hardest things I've ever done). And I looked 2014 and a city of eight million people twelve hundred miles away in the face and I told it "you ain't got nothing on this girl". It was a stupidly powerful moment.

But, I know one thing I want from this is that I want to experience it in a way that is hard for me, in my natural abilities. I could go up there and let Peyton have his dream, but do it kicking and screaming and that would be worthless. I want to let this year be a fresh start with some things. I want to be purposeful and intentional, but less uptight. I read through some of Peyton's letters to me from when we were dating (after a teary Invisible Game listening session) and I thought about what a FUN girl I was then. In some ways, anxiety had a hold on me in a way that it doesn't now, but in other ways I was just much more carefree. I want to be her again...

“ . . some moment happens in your life that you say yes right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. laughing with somebody till the tears run down your cheeks. waking up to the first snow. being in bed with somebody you love... whether you thank god for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open up your whole life. If you turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to business as usual, it may lose you the ball game. if you throw your arms around such a moment and hug it like crazy, it may save your soul.” 
― Frederick Buechner

Now there's a kingdom of love waiting to be reclaimed!