I fell asleep last night with a smile on my lips.
I am so happy inside, happy like I laugh when no one is watching and sometimes I dance a little while I am smiling…and I even yell out sporadically in my car with pure glee.
He loves me.
Andrew loves me.
He picked me to be his wife.
I carry his invitation around in my pocket like a little secret. A promise wrapped in white gold around my finger.
He asked me.
To grow old with him and turn all wrinkly together.
To hike waterfalls, cook dinner, buy a house, jump out planes, race go-carts and sleep in hammocks in the afternoon…he wants to do all the little things and the gigantic things…with me.
And that makes me happy.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Dreamers who Overcome
I am excited to write this entry, sit back because you are in for a long one. It’s a bit of a story, an update, it is a little window into my everyday for the last couple of days, the last few weeks, the past months….9 months to be exact. That is when she called to tell me they were pregnant. I was getting on a plane to Africa for the summer so I was safe to tell. We had been praying for over two years for them to get pregnant….she wasn’t even sure if she would carry the baby through but she wanted me to know.
A lot can happen in 9 months, for me in the matter of these 9 months many things in my life changed – new dreams appeared, I graduated through stages, life and death occurred, my heart soared and fractured – but throughout all of this, a baby was growing inside of her….life was growing.
In a turn of events, my location moved from the East Coast to a house that when the blinds are open I can see the silhouette of my cousin’s belly as she walks through her own house across the street. These days have been priceless.
Many a morning I have sat with her and a cup of tea, as she cried over the baby’s stalling. I stare at her swollen belly as she swears to me it will never come….I think to myself, well where else is it going to go, it has to come.
It is similar in my life, in all of our lives, God’s promises, they seem to be swollen in my own belly as I scream at God and tell Him they will never come.
Labor began at home, with family all gathered and my cousin never looked more regal as we took turns holding her through contractions. Hours passed as I watched her coach her body to breathe through each pain. It mirrors to me our struggle, we are each birthing a story, and the only way it can be born is through pain.
Acelyn Nicole was born after 72 hours of labor.
Acelyn means Dreamer. Nicole means Overcomer.
I held her in my arms as she slept last night, thinking about the weight of her name. In each of our stories, through the pain of birthing greatness, we need more dreamers who overcome.
A lot can happen in 9 months, for me in the matter of these 9 months many things in my life changed – new dreams appeared, I graduated through stages, life and death occurred, my heart soared and fractured – but throughout all of this, a baby was growing inside of her….life was growing.
In a turn of events, my location moved from the East Coast to a house that when the blinds are open I can see the silhouette of my cousin’s belly as she walks through her own house across the street. These days have been priceless.
Many a morning I have sat with her and a cup of tea, as she cried over the baby’s stalling. I stare at her swollen belly as she swears to me it will never come….I think to myself, well where else is it going to go, it has to come.
It is similar in my life, in all of our lives, God’s promises, they seem to be swollen in my own belly as I scream at God and tell Him they will never come.
Labor began at home, with family all gathered and my cousin never looked more regal as we took turns holding her through contractions. Hours passed as I watched her coach her body to breathe through each pain. It mirrors to me our struggle, we are each birthing a story, and the only way it can be born is through pain.
Acelyn Nicole was born after 72 hours of labor.
Acelyn means Dreamer. Nicole means Overcomer.
I held her in my arms as she slept last night, thinking about the weight of her name. In each of our stories, through the pain of birthing greatness, we need more dreamers who overcome.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
seeing him again
The first miracle might have been the snow we drove through…I mean snow in Texas!? I was delighted yet my delight paled in the thought of seeing him. I was so nervous. After three outfits, the only certainty was my favorite red coat that I wrapped tightly around my frame. Would he like it on me? Would he still think I was beautiful? Had he found another to love him better? It’s the feeling you have deep in your stomach when you know that you are about to see an ex-girlfriend/boyfriend after a couple of years. The insecurities run rampant in your mind. The difference here is that I still talk to him all the time, but the last three years have mostly been in anger and pain, little love. I was so nervous.
I walked into the dimly lit auditorium; I lost my breath….so scared to see Him. I remember the night so well, leaving him, with his kiss still on my lips. My mind spun…What if He doesn’t even come to see me? What if He is with someone else, a better lover? My fears were lost in a moment, before I could see His face, I was in His arms. His embrace brought tears and He held me, and never let go. There were no words, no songs, we just stayed there. I in His arms. Tears ran down both of our faces. He held me, the one who had hurt Him so much, who wounded His heart, who has been so cruel, yet His love fell on me like tears, not of pain, but of longing. Why hadn’t He found someone else after all this time? Why had He waited for my broken, lacking love? I had chosen other lovers. This whole time, He was still hoping for me.
There are no arms like those of a true lover.
The worship surrounded us and as I raised my eyes to Him, His longing found my shame. He kissed my forehead, there was no reason for shame. This was perfect love. When the tears ended, I saw His name on the screen. I don’t know how, but as I stayed in His arms, I knew He was holding each broken soul: holding the defeated man, the cutter, the motherless wife, the starving woman, the unfaithful lover….He held them, just like me. See He had been waiting, waiting for each of us to let Him love us.
The only words I was able to sing that night…..“hope which was lost now stands renewed…”
I walked into the dimly lit auditorium; I lost my breath….so scared to see Him. I remember the night so well, leaving him, with his kiss still on my lips. My mind spun…What if He doesn’t even come to see me? What if He is with someone else, a better lover? My fears were lost in a moment, before I could see His face, I was in His arms. His embrace brought tears and He held me, and never let go. There were no words, no songs, we just stayed there. I in His arms. Tears ran down both of our faces. He held me, the one who had hurt Him so much, who wounded His heart, who has been so cruel, yet His love fell on me like tears, not of pain, but of longing. Why hadn’t He found someone else after all this time? Why had He waited for my broken, lacking love? I had chosen other lovers. This whole time, He was still hoping for me.
There are no arms like those of a true lover.
The worship surrounded us and as I raised my eyes to Him, His longing found my shame. He kissed my forehead, there was no reason for shame. This was perfect love. When the tears ended, I saw His name on the screen. I don’t know how, but as I stayed in His arms, I knew He was holding each broken soul: holding the defeated man, the cutter, the motherless wife, the starving woman, the unfaithful lover….He held them, just like me. See He had been waiting, waiting for each of us to let Him love us.
The only words I was able to sing that night…..“hope which was lost now stands renewed…”
Friday, January 04, 2008
trying to downsize
Hey guys...i am trying to not have to post blogs all over the place, so I am going to stop posting on here (unless I go overseas again) and have my myspace blogs updated - please go to
http://www.myspace.com/liquidlifeline
If you want to read my blogs!! -christy
http://www.myspace.com/liquidlifeline
If you want to read my blogs!! -christy
"hot yoga"
Bikram Yoga otherwise known as “hot yoga” has made it into my life this week. We rush in because our overcoats are leaking in 25 degrees air through our spandex. The warm air is a mild welcome to the instructor behind the counter who greets us in a towel! I suppress my laughter as I tell him this is my new favorite place to workout. We are calmly rushed into a room set slightly above 108F and “hot yoga” begins. Between balancing, stretching, and opening my chest “like a blossoming flower” – the detox is welcoming but what has stayed with me was two lines the instructor gave us repeatedly:
“Keep your eyes open, be right here, be all here. If you have can learn to be with yourself, you can handle anything.”
So I stared up at the water-damaged ceilings, and I was with myself. I thought about all the things I lack in and all the things I don’t, I thought about how I can’t stretch even close to as good as the girl in front of me.
“Be okay with where you are….remember, even if you move a millimeter, you have grown.”
This is good for me to hear. I am learning to be much nicer to myself as I grow. Allowing me to be not as good as someone else and still loveable. So I take a long, hot breath in and I think to myself, you have grown a millimeter and I am proud of you.
I smile to myself and then look over to see a very large, hairy man who is smiling with his eyes closed. Maybe we both think that a millimeter is just enough for today.
“Keep your eyes open, be right here, be all here. If you have can learn to be with yourself, you can handle anything.”
So I stared up at the water-damaged ceilings, and I was with myself. I thought about all the things I lack in and all the things I don’t, I thought about how I can’t stretch even close to as good as the girl in front of me.
“Be okay with where you are….remember, even if you move a millimeter, you have grown.”
This is good for me to hear. I am learning to be much nicer to myself as I grow. Allowing me to be not as good as someone else and still loveable. So I take a long, hot breath in and I think to myself, you have grown a millimeter and I am proud of you.
I smile to myself and then look over to see a very large, hairy man who is smiling with his eyes closed. Maybe we both think that a millimeter is just enough for today.
Monday, December 17, 2007
gingerbread shoe
The secret to our gingerbread dough was told to me this weekend, I have waited a long, long time to find out – well five batches later, I not only knew the secret ingredient (orange juice & cloves) but I had the recipe memorized!
It was a wild day in the hill country of Fredericksburg…Uncle Steve was at it again with his attempts to roast chestnuts on an open fire. We began the voting on Friday night, thus Old Woman in the Shoe was chosen and our engineers began early Saturday morning with chicken wire, measurements and sketching – our only other surprise was Aunt Jinx who surprised the entire family and showed because she can’t seem to miss out if there is a party going on!
The all-weekend event ended Sunday afternoon when the last gingerbread kid was secured climbing the shoelaces of the boot – we were done (check out the pictures and tune in for how we will destroy it Christmas day (and it if will actually make it 8 hrs. to Louisiana!)
Hope your holidays are just as fun!
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
running through the creek
The cold hit our excited faces, like two kids who could be no younger.
We ran.
Often times the physical reflects the emotional, as our bodies longed to go so much faster than our hearts would allow.
We exchanged few words as we ran, we were both lost in our wonder of God and our heart’s love.
I could see the creek’s invitation up ahead, shall we go?
At his hesitation I ask…
Shall we make such small excuses for an invitation to adventure?
Kyle and I took to the woods and I could see it was going to be harder for me to jump or climb the rocks than I had thought. In my best English warrior princess voice I say…
I fear I can only see one way.
Kyle’s response stays with me even now, weeks later…
Well, that is your first problem, because there is always another way.
It seems this way in life, that we are captivated by only seeing one way, sure that God couldn’t possibly have found another way? We get caught staring at this one path: this is how my career must look, this is what love from my spouse looks like, and these are the ways my kids should choose.
When I stop to find a little trust and peace, I can see there are other ways. When I breathe in deep, there are ways I can trust my God sees that I can’t even recognize.
Kyle stood there looking at the different jumps and the rocks and the mud – deep in his leadership he muttered….The true struggle is finding which is the best way.
I have a deep respect for a man’s calling to lead. Having been single for some time now, I must say as a woman the stress and frustration of leading myself is a daunting task, I long for the comfort of my husband’s covering. Yet the Lord has sweetly whispered and sometimes yelled of His provision and covering, and for moments I have rested in it. I love the verse, and I rest between His shoulders. We can rest there, men and women alike can rest in His ultimate provision. As we externally wrestle to find the best way, He is chuckling above as He lays out the path right under our feet. It is truly a gift to build a relationship along the way of trusting the Father’s faithfulness.
There was much mud and water that followed Kyle and I’s adventure through the creek all the way home. We arrived cold and dirty but with smiles that stayed the rest of the day.
This has to be a picture of His invitation to life, a calling that has little directions, many guesses, lots of mud, and many rivers to cross. Yet we made it home, and realized His concern was not so much the path we took. He was just glad we made it home.
We ran.
Often times the physical reflects the emotional, as our bodies longed to go so much faster than our hearts would allow.
We exchanged few words as we ran, we were both lost in our wonder of God and our heart’s love.
I could see the creek’s invitation up ahead, shall we go?
At his hesitation I ask…
Shall we make such small excuses for an invitation to adventure?
Kyle and I took to the woods and I could see it was going to be harder for me to jump or climb the rocks than I had thought. In my best English warrior princess voice I say…
I fear I can only see one way.
Kyle’s response stays with me even now, weeks later…
Well, that is your first problem, because there is always another way.
It seems this way in life, that we are captivated by only seeing one way, sure that God couldn’t possibly have found another way? We get caught staring at this one path: this is how my career must look, this is what love from my spouse looks like, and these are the ways my kids should choose.
When I stop to find a little trust and peace, I can see there are other ways. When I breathe in deep, there are ways I can trust my God sees that I can’t even recognize.
Kyle stood there looking at the different jumps and the rocks and the mud – deep in his leadership he muttered….The true struggle is finding which is the best way.
I have a deep respect for a man’s calling to lead. Having been single for some time now, I must say as a woman the stress and frustration of leading myself is a daunting task, I long for the comfort of my husband’s covering. Yet the Lord has sweetly whispered and sometimes yelled of His provision and covering, and for moments I have rested in it. I love the verse, and I rest between His shoulders. We can rest there, men and women alike can rest in His ultimate provision. As we externally wrestle to find the best way, He is chuckling above as He lays out the path right under our feet. It is truly a gift to build a relationship along the way of trusting the Father’s faithfulness.
There was much mud and water that followed Kyle and I’s adventure through the creek all the way home. We arrived cold and dirty but with smiles that stayed the rest of the day.
This has to be a picture of His invitation to life, a calling that has little directions, many guesses, lots of mud, and many rivers to cross. Yet we made it home, and realized His concern was not so much the path we took. He was just glad we made it home.
Monday, November 26, 2007
sounds of home
This is the helmet conch, dad explained.
To a 5 yr. old, a glassy coated shell from the ocean is treasure beyond belief. I would carry it next to my ear, listening to the sound of the ocean. I asked my dad how it kept the sound inside. He told me that when a conch is taken from the water, it dies, and it will forever holds the sound of the sea…the sound of its home.
I think this is much like each of us, our hearts carry the sound of where we belong. It may be why we believe in destiny or fate, why
I love the idea of carrying who you are deep inside of you.
For years after my dad left, I would often take the shell and lay listening to its sound. Wishing the ocean would wrap me up, wishing my father would wrap me up.
Today, Thanksgiving day, I am missing the sound of the ocean and the sound of my father. There are no oceans and no shells anywhere around.
I went up stairs to be away from the busyness and in the closet I found a box with my name, Christmas presents from last year (can you believe my life is so busy I fail to open presents, it is true) but my mom had said she had bought some things for my house one day, and since I am no where near having a house, I left them wrapped.
Is God so purposeful that today I would opened the first present a year later, and my tears brim….I was looking at a carved wooden angel with long brown hair, and she was holding a beautiful conch shell up to her ear.
Who are You, God?
To a 5 yr. old, a glassy coated shell from the ocean is treasure beyond belief. I would carry it next to my ear, listening to the sound of the ocean. I asked my dad how it kept the sound inside. He told me that when a conch is taken from the water, it dies, and it will forever holds the sound of the sea…the sound of its home.
I think this is much like each of us, our hearts carry the sound of where we belong. It may be why we believe in destiny or fate, why
I love the idea of carrying who you are deep inside of you.
For years after my dad left, I would often take the shell and lay listening to its sound. Wishing the ocean would wrap me up, wishing my father would wrap me up.
Today, Thanksgiving day, I am missing the sound of the ocean and the sound of my father. There are no oceans and no shells anywhere around.
I went up stairs to be away from the busyness and in the closet I found a box with my name, Christmas presents from last year (can you believe my life is so busy I fail to open presents, it is true) but my mom had said she had bought some things for my house one day, and since I am no where near having a house, I left them wrapped.
Is God so purposeful that today I would opened the first present a year later, and my tears brim….I was looking at a carved wooden angel with long brown hair, and she was holding a beautiful conch shell up to her ear.
Who are You, God?
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