I handed over the keys to our little yellow house last month, and with one last look, I stepped out the back door for the last time, walked down the path for the last last time and closed the back gate into the alley, for the last time. Moving has been such a process for me. Both literally and figuratively. I don’t know how many trips back and forth it’s taken to clear 13 years worth of stuff out of that house. I also don’t know how many days of processing it’s taken and will take.

That house saw me live, die, and come back to life again.

My husband left me in that house.

I met Josh in that house.

I celebrated nearly everyone I love in that house in one way or another. My babies came home from the hospital to that house.

Even though I never really loved the layout of that house, every single square inch of it exuded my personality. It was also falling apart.

I walked out that back door, slightly wistful, but also so relieved. I didn’t have energy for that house anymore. And I know, so deep in my bones, that it’s time for a new start. I’m so excited to get to start my new marriage with a fresh canvas in a great house, on my favorite Main Street.

Life is not what I thought it would be. But it’s hard and good. Bitter and sweet. And I’m looking forward, not back.

In a couple of weeks, my new little family is embarking on a new adventure. We’re going to be packing up our little house and moving a few blocks down the road to Main Street (just up the road from Tangle). I’m equal parts sad and happy. We’ve lived in this house for 13 years. This is where I brought my babies home from the hospital. And I’m not quite ready for this next step in life. Needing to move is (hopefully) one of the last consequences of my divorce that I’m going to have to pay. Also, I have 13 years of stuff in this house to pack.

I’m excited because I think it will be good for Josh and I to start our marriage in a new place, one that’s equally both of ours. We will also be gaining an extra bedroom, a family room and a second bathroom… I’m not quite sure how to even process what it means to have two bathrooms… so amazing. It’ll be really fun to set up a new house, making the things we have seem new again in new spaces, setting up wedding gifts that are still in boxes because it seemed silly to unpack them only to pack them again.

I think it’ll take months for me to fully process all the changes that have/will happen this summer. We’re married. I don’t work for the clinic anymore (budget cuts). And soon we will move. It’s a lot of changes for all of us and I think that Josh described it right in saying it feels a little fragile.

I’ve been living years of instability, feeling like I can’t quite get solid footing. Not always knowing how I would pay my bills and before that not ever knowing if my husband would leave me or not. It’s been a long, stretched-out haul but I’m glad to see the next season beginning. My word for this next season of my life is STABILITY. Josh and I are both committed to making our new life as stable as possible. I think we’re both excited to settle into a new house and a new life and just coast for awhile with no weddings to plan, no houses to move.

I’m learning what I’m always learning: trust. I’m learning to fight through the fear and just rest in the fact that God has always taken care of me. I’m remembering that I don’t have to know what the future looks like to have peace and that even if things look differently than I’ve expected, that doesn’t mean that they won’t be good. I’m saying goodbye to one life so I can start another one and I’m letting myself mourn but not get too caught up in the sorrow of it. I’m looking ahead and choosing to fill myself with hope and excitement for what’s next. I’m not totally sure what that will look like, but I’m choosing to believe that it will be good, because I know that God always gives me what’s good.

Pour 2 bottles red wine (I used a local merlot) and 1 cup 100% pear juice over Strawberries, lemons, limes, raspberries, and 1 pear cut into chunks.

Let meld in fridge for several hours.

Serve over ice with a splash of club soda.

This is the question I’ve been getting a lot lately. I’m not totally sure how to answer that question because I haven’t solidly wrapped my head around the fact that I’M MARRIED.  This is mostly my fault because I think my little PTSD’d self had a hard time believing that it would actually happen. Leading up to the wedding I started to be convinced that Josh was going to die in a fiery plane crash or something equally as tragic. My life has not been the easiest for a lot of years so I just didn’t spend much time thinking about what life would be like after we were married, just in case something happened.

I’m not real proud of my lack of faith and hope. I keep thinking about this section at the beginning of Bittersweet:

I learned about waves when I was little, swimming in Lake Michigan, in navy blue water under a clear sky, and the most important thing I learned was this:  if you try to stand and face the wave, it will smash you to bits, but if you trust the water, and let it carry you, there’s nothing sweeter.  And a couple decades later, that’s what I’m learning to be true about life, too.  If you dig in and fight the change you’re facing, it will indeed smash you to bits. It will hold you under, drag you across the rough sand, scare and confuse you. 

This last season in my life has been characterized, more than anything else, by change. Hard, swirling, one-after-another changes, so many that I can’t quite regain my footing before the next one comes, very much like being tumbled by waves. 

When we were in San Diego for our honeymoon, laying on the beach, I thought about how much I’ve fought the waves. How I haven’t trusted anything, and barely anyone, and how I’ve been so, so afraid. I’m not very proud of this last year of my life, I feel like in many ways I’ve failed. There have been a few bright and shining moments where my head finally surfaced above the clouds and I actually got to SEE what I have and what I’m living, but many, many of them have been marked by fear.

Somehow in the midst of it all I’ve forgotten that faith I learned when my first marriage fell apart. I forgot how to take blind steps forward, trusting that God knows exactly where he’s taking me.  It seems silly because I KNOW that he will take such good care of me, just look at the ways he’s made everything new again. But somehow fear was easier, fear was in MY CONTROL.  And hanging onto everything so tightly seemed to be the only way to keep it all together. (It wasn’t.)

So here’s what I’m learning now: the lesson that I have to learn over and over and over again. Surrender. I will never be able to control of my life. I may never know what the next six steps are. I may never know what’s next. But I am choosing to believe that whatever’s next, it will be OK. I have 32 years to tell me that whatever comes, I will BE OK. In the next month we will likely be moving to another house. We don’t know which house and if we for sure will be moving, but I’m choosing to believe that whatever house it is, that’s the house we’re supposed to have. I’m choosing to remember that my life has always been orchestrated in ways more beautiful than I could ever have planned myself. I’m choosing to stop fighting the waves.

So anyway, how’s married life? Right, I’m MARRIED. I think it’s good. I keep looking at Josh, across the table, or across the room and I feel so incredibly thankful. I get to spend the rest of my life with HIM. I watch him be incredibly patient with the kids and I think back to what I wished for, 3 years ago, when I was taking all of those blind steps forward, not knowing where I was going. I think back to those times when the hope of what could be in the future was all that got me through. And I realize that those things I hoped for, those things that I wanted deep in my bones, THOSE are the things I got. It’s like someone knew me and made it all happen.

We got married last Saturday. It was a beautiful, sunny day in the desert, not too hot and just perfect. There were flowers and twinkle lights, balloons, cloth napkins and lots and lots of china. Details to follow, but for now let me just say, I’m so thankful for redemption and for the people who lit up my path along the way.

It’s been so exciting for me to get to tell my story lately. I have worked so hard to get here and I love getting to share that redemption is real. One thing that I’ve been thinking about lately is something that God whispered to me one morning last summer while I was at my Grandma’s house. Dating Josh has been one of those huge processes for me. I had so much unexpected fear to deal with. Even though it is so understandable considering where I’ve come from, it took me by surprise. I remember, headphones in, face buried in pillows, praying through the fear and God said to me:

Josh is not the story, he’s part of the story.

As thankful as I am to have Josh in my life, as much as I believe he is part of God’s plan for me, I don’t want want to forget that HE is not the one saving me. I was already saved before he came along.

Thankful.

This has been one of those years where I’ve examined the majority of my theology and come up short. At times this is hard for me, feeling like I don’t have anything solid to stand on. But then it feels so natural. Theology, to me, is fluid. The best way for each of us to experience God is through our experiences and our experiences change the way we see things and open our eyes and wake us up. The way we see and experience things changes the way we believe.

What I’m learning is that when I start to get caught up in what I don’t believe, when my footing feels shaky, the best thing for me to do is to focus on what I do believe. (And maybe that’s where Evangelicals and non-evangelicals can find common ground too, in the beliefs they do share.) So what I decided to do was write my own personal Manifesto. To proclaim to the world, THIS is what’s important to me, THIS is what I believe. I borrowed from and was inspired by: Glennon Melton, Shauna Niequist, Bob Goff, the Liturgists, Brene Brown and Rob Bell.

One thing I can guarantee, this Manifesto, like my theology, will be fluid.

1. We were made to love and be loved.
Love is the most transformative element in the world. It is the only meaningful thing we can offer each other.

2. The POINT is relationships.
We were made to connect and we are all connected. Let me say that again. WE ARE ALL CONNECTED. ALL of us. God’s primary tool for connecting to us and showing us love is through other people. The closer we get to other people, the closer we get to him.

3.God always comes back for us.
Redemption is his language. We are all deeply flawed but I don’t think he minds so much. I think he likes us this way. One thing that I see that most of Christianity misses is his tenderness towards our flaws.

4. Our journeys are holy.
The miracle of life is in the act of LIVING. Every journey looks different and we all get to God in different ways and at different times. That’s what makes it so holy.

5. We get to (have to) be who we are.
My life will never be what it is meant to be if I do not live it completely embracing WHO I AM. I will always show up for life eyes wide open, heart bared to the world. I will always allow and encourage others to be who they are too.

6. All lives are sacred.
We are all connected. My life is for other people and I will always work for those who are marginalized, neglected, forgotten, abused, hurting and powerless.

7. We were made to create.
Beauty is the language of life. Creating is what gives us life. The pursuit of true beauty is the pursuit of God’s heart.

8. In life, there will always be brokenness.
A broken heart won’t kill us but running from it will. The brokenness is what makes the redemption so beautiful. Our capacity for brokenness is our capacity for wholeheartedness.

9. I will not be ruled by fear.
Being brave is feeling afraid but acting anyway. I will not participate in guilt (christian or otherwise).

I’ve come to believe that if God is in the business of anything, it’s the business of making all things new. I’ve seen him take what was broken and bad and turn it into something whole and good. I think that’s his primary business. That’s what he does for all of us.

Yesterday I got the opportunity to share my story with the church I attend. I’ve been telling the story for a while, in bits and pieces, though my blog and even twitter, but I’m pretty excited to get to tell the whole thing. I’m so thankful to be here, now. Looking back. Seeing how bad things were and now how good they are. Redemption is real. I’m so grateful.

June 7th :)