2

Dear Jon ~

2 year ago today I was shaking beside you at the altar, well aware of the enormity of what I was doing. We'd known each other for years, so it wasn't a surprise to anyone, including us, when we decided to get married, but I was a little nervous just the same. Giddily excited.... absolutely overwhelmed with love & happiness ... but nervous.

I think I had every right to be nervous... after all, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. My parents had set a wonderful example for me as I was growing up, but sustaining and nourishing a marriage is not something one can learn just by watching. There was so much I didn't know... and there is so much that I still need to learn.

In addition to learning how to be a wife, I am still in the process of learning how to be me. ... But you have been my anchor. You love me in spite of and because of my flaws, which, I am sorry to say, I seem to discover more of those along the way, too ;) You believe in my dreams but you are constantly encouraging me to move, ingraining the truth on my heart that sometimes you cannot wait for the "right chance" to fall into your lap, you need to chase it down and pour your heart and soul in 100% from the get-go.

I love your strength and and kindness. ... Your patience astounds me. You are teaching me, every day, how to love you. And that is a sacred task that I give thanks for every single day. And you? Jon, no one could love me like you do ...

We took each other "for better or for worse"... and this has been a really good year for us. Last year had some sadness & upheaval ... but this year has been a year of settling in and putting down roots. I know that some years will be hard and others will be good-upon-good, but no matter what comes our way, I know that I can handle it with you by my side.

You are my best friend, my partner in crime, and the love of my life.

I want to be with you for 2 years x infinity.

Happy Anniversary.

~ Amy

"I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

...

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good.
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.

You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all."

-Roy Croft

Shine

"Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other. "

~ Carol Saline

canoe trip, circa 2005

This is Laurie.

She is my best friend, and my little sister.

July, 1989

I met Laurie when I was three years old, and it's safe to say that my life has not been the same since.

"Teddy Bear Tea", circa 1991

The beauty of having a sister is that you always have someone to play with... and the beauty of having a little sister is that, at least until a certain age, you get to call the shots & make up the rules for the game.

Laurie was always up for whatever I suggested. Sometimes we would put on our long skirts and bonnets & go on "pioneering adventures" in our backyard, our back deck becoming our covered wagon as we ventured into the unknown, inevitably encountering wild animals and nursing each other back to health after a bout with the dreaded scarlet fever.

... Sometimes we would put on our pretty dresses and sling white gauzy mosquito netting over our heads and perform wedding ceremonies.

Sometimes we would simply sit together and tell stories.

"Biking" together, circa 1991

I've heard it said that the love of sisters is a "volatile love"... and I know that it's true. We were in no way "atypical siblings" ... and we frequently drove each other nuts. I think because we were girls, that added in a little bit of (mostly) healthy competition into the mix as well. Laurie knows what makes me tick ... and she also knows what ticks me off (she always has ;).

But at the end of the day, I love her fiercely. I feel her joy intensely, and her pain acutely. I would walk through fire for this girl. ... and I know she'd do the same for me.

She's always been musical! Circa 1991

Laurie has always had a way of nurturing and bringing out my creativity (and it is here that I assure you that this post is coming late not because I lacked inspiration, but rather because I lacked time :).

With Laurie I was free to let my imagination roam... to let my words carry me away.... to free myself and believe what my heart wanted to believe. In recent years she has continued to inspire me creatively. For example: she encouraged me to go for it when I was considering starting my blog, and helped me to come up with the name "Amy Around the Corner". I may have mentioned that I am (in fits & starts) writing a novel -- Laurie was the first person I told, and I think that she's just as excited about it as I am.

This past Christmas she made me a "Writing Box": a sturdy box with a handcrafted lid, filled with pens, notebooks, (my personal favorites!) steno notepads, and peppermint gum ("Because peppermint sparks creativity," she told me). It's one of the most thoughtful and meaningful gifts I have ever received.

circa 2010

Laurie is hilarious. I'll always remember the nights when we giggled ourselves to sleep in the twin beds up on the Island.

Confession: Laurie doesn't like this picture. But I love it, and I think she's beautiful in it and it's my blog... so it made it into the love letter.

Laurie is beautiful. She has always exuded a confidence that I find enviable: pushing forward to make her own path; embracing new ideas and new challenges. She is one of the most welcoming souls I've ever had the pleasure of meeting -- she genuinely cares about every single person she comes in contact with, and that shines through in her words and actions. Recently, I've had the pleasure of watching her heart catch on fire over issues of social justice-- there is no doubt in my mind that this woman is going to change the world someday.

Laurie's senior choir concert, Spring 2007

With her quiet strength and compassion, it came as no surprise to our family when Laurie decided to pursue nursing as a career. For 4 years we laughed with her as she told funny stories from clinicals, sighed with her as she lamented over tough classes and difficult professors, and were appropriately grossed out amazed by the feats of the human body.

On May 6, we proudly watched as she walked across the stage to receive her diploma. And on August 1, she will begin a new chapter of her life, with her first job as a nurse in a Toledo hospital. And while I am sad that she is moving away, more than that I am excited for her. I'm excited to hear all the stories of her first job, first apartment (without a roommate ... although I am strongly recommending that she get a kitty. Heh. I need a fuzzy niece/nephew to spoil ;), and all the adventures that come with being on your own as a young professional.

I am able to embrace my joy and overlook the ache because of what I know to be true: It doesn't matter how far apart we are. We will always be sisters; we will always be friends. She will always be the girl I shared my childhood with. She will always be the woman I admire. She will always be the one who knows my secret hopes & dreams, as well as embarrassing stories about me that I'd rather she forget... She will always be the one who was standing beside me as I experienced the most intense happiness (getting married) and the most crushing loss (my grandpa) in my life. I know she'll always be there for me, whether she's 2 hours away, 2 towns away, or two doors down.

Sisterhood is a sacred, unbreakable bond.

Of all the things my parents have given me, I am most thankful that they gave me a little sister. My life is so much richer with her in it.

My wedding day, September 2009

Happy birthday, Laurie. Here's to all the beautiful mysteries the future holds.
(July 14, 2011)

Home.

May, 1986

"Love Letters": a series of love letters to the people in my life who have made a big difference in my world, published on their birthdays.


For my mother.

Today is my mother's birthday.

Last night I began the ritual of “love letter writing”: I luxuriated in flipping through old photo albums, my brain carefully compartmentalizing memories, archiving favorite images and trying to piece together in my mind the stories I would tell. Even as my mind raced 100 mph (even as I way lying in bed and sleep eluded me… a 100 mph mind can do that, you know), I was loving it…Loving the process…

1986

I've known since the inception of "Love Letters" that this would be a letter I would labor over—one that would take a long time to write, but I've really been looking forward to it, as well. Still, my mother has been perhaps the biggest influence in my life, and when I remember that, I am (quite frankly) intimidated. How can I ever write something that fully conveys what she means to me? I take comfort in the fact that while my words might fail, my love will not.

... She taught me that.

May, 1989

My mother was the first woman I ever thought was beautiful. She was my role-model, and I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. Even though I didn’t fully grasp it when I was small, she embodied for me everything I aspired to be: strength & individuality, compassion & grace. My mother was and is creative… absolutely fantastic with children. Some of my favorite childhood memories include teddy bear picnics and teddy bear weddings ... we had such a good time together! She was patient & quick to rejoice in small triumphs, and she is a wonderful listener. She always made it so easy and enjoyable to share life (& secrets!) with her.

My mother tread the fine line between mother & friend with an ease and grace that I hope I can emulate some day. Starting in high school, I began to be conscious of the way to could talk to her like an equal, and even today, I consider her one of my best friends. Nobody knows me like my mother does (for better or worse ;) ... When I think of the word "mother" my heart immediately thinks of home, and the profound comfort found there. ...And I know this is because of her. She made our house a home.

Girl Scout Mother / Daughter Gala, circa 1993

I think that above and beyond everything else, my mother gave me the courage & strength to love. And I am so grateful. Specifically, she taught me how to embrace who I was, and she helped me to build a strong foundation of self respect.

My mother is an incredible woman. She is my best example of chasing your dreams and going where your heart leads you. She has multiple degrees: a BA in History, and Master's degrees in Library Science and Communication. She has traveled all over the country (CO, CA, FL, VA, PA, IL, NY, MA ....and more, I know!) She has traveled the world (::at least to:: England, Germany & Jamaica with my father for their honeymoon). She met my father, the great love of her life, in 1975, and they were married in 1978. Together they participated in TOSRV, bicycling over 100 miles together!

She has a passion for life that is readily apparent to anyone who meets her, and a never-ending desire to learn. She has taught me, by the way she lives, to take risks, travel often, get outside daily, and live life on your own time-table. Because of her, I heave learned to hold my head high, and take pride in the life that I am making for myself, every day.

Light the Night Walk, October 2005

We are really two of a kind, she & I .... and I wouldn't have it any other way. I am honored to be my mother's daughter. We share curly hair, a passion for reading & libraries, and a (perhaps too) healthy love for wheat thins. We both have a need for quiet devotion time at the beginning of each day. We both love long, summer evening walks and huge bowls of chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream. We love snuggling kitties and word-find puzzles & we both drink our coffee black. ♥

September 2009

She has showed me, by example, how to be a wife. How to provide for spiritual needs as well as tangible needs (like cooking & cleaning!) How, when you give 110% of your heart to your family you never feel empty. How to live in harmony & partnership with your husband, and to be respectful even when times get rough. My parents love is my example, and as I continue to learn & grow, the more I understand and appreciate this.

Happy birthday, Mommy. I love you.

Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible. ~Marion C. Garretty

25: A love letter of sorts ...

via

This post has been in the works for almost 2 weeks now. ...But tonight, inspired by this beautiful post from a beautiful friend, I write:



Dear Me,

At the moment this post is published, I am 25 years, one week, and 3 days old, exactly. A belated 'Happy Birthday'! ... Welcome to the 2nd quarter century of life!

And what a journey it's been <3 This past year was a good one for me: a year of settling in, adapting, growing... thriving. The growth was not without some 'growing pains', of course, but I'm beginning to learn that the best lessons are hard won; and that sometimes in order to be happy you need to work hard for it... and that's okay.

I'm beginning to learn who I am and what makes me happy -- what I might be good at. I'm beginning to grow into myself and really get comfortable in my own skin. This year I have discovered vibrant passions for writing, running, cooking & (gasp!) yard work. I am learning how to speak my mind when my heart leads me. I am learning how to be a wife.

I'm learning, more than ever, that the only opinion I should really take to heart is my own. I'm learning that when something feels wrong, it's probably because it is. ... Life is too short to settle, and if I'm unhappy, perhaps it's time to move on. I'm learning that, while I pride myself on being a good listener, my kindred spirits are those that let me speak my mind.

I'm learning that tears can be a good thing. That real butter makes all the difference, and that 3 glasses of wine once in a while never hurt anyone. I'm learning that girl friends are absolutely invaluable, and that I'd rather spend a Friday night in snuggling with my husband than 'out on the town'. I'm learning that a little elbow grease can burn through a bad mood, and that a long lunchtime walk in the sunshine can cast a positive light on the rest of the workday.

I'm learning that sometimes the hardest step is the first one; that if you allow room for doubt, it will slip in... and that, if you are not vigilant, doubt can take you down before you realize it.

I am learning how to, for the first time, truly take responsibility for my happiness and future. Life is lovely if you passively sit back and give thanks, but it can be heady & intoxicating & vibrant if you move forward with purpose. I'm learning that I really can do just about anything I set my mind to, and that sometimes, the best laid plans are those that you do not lay for yourself... but those that you get laid into.

This last year has been absolutely pivotal.

Tonight, as I sit quietly with Gracie (who is snoozing across the room) glass of wine in hand, I allow myself to take a step back and really take stock of my life. I meditate on this question: Am I where I thought I would be at 25? When I was 20, did I ever dream I would be *here*?

And I find, first of all, that this is a harder question than I would have imagined. I mean, first of all, I need to remember where I was 5 years ago. (Which sounds ridiculous, but I lived a lot of different places when I was in college --engineering co-ops took me to 4 different states!)

When I turned 20, I had just started my first co-op, and was living on my own, for the first time, in Romulus, MI. I had just finished up my sophomore year of college, and Jon and I had just renewed our dating relationship after an almost 6 month hiatus. I was in a good place. A place ripe with promise.

I have great memories from all my co-ops, but my MI co-op holds a special place in my heart because it was my first. It was my first time being on my own, and that was life changing for me. I had always suspected that I'd do fine on my own, and I did. I loved it. Of course, living by myself wasn't always awesome. I remember one especially poignant moment, sitting in the bathtub at 8 pm on the 4th of July, drinking a wine cooler & feeling sorry for myself. ... But I'm pretty sure even that was good for me :)

When I look back on that summer, I remember running through downtown Romulus, evening trips to the library & curling up in bed every night and working my way through The Chronicles of Narnia. I remember carefully packing lunch every evening (bagel sandwich: light mayonnaise, turkey, cheddar cheese) and watching movies on my 10" tv screen. I remember eating a lot of frozen vegetables that summer :) When I look back, I am overwhelmed by the sense of confidence & comfort. Perhaps this is what nostalgia is, that vague longing and sense of, "oh yeah, that felt right." ...

Back to the point (I blame my 2nd glass of wine): I think that when I was 20, I never would have dreamed that I would be as settled as I am now. I'm pretty sure that if my 20 year old self met my 25 year old self, she would pat *me* on the head and say, "Aww. It's all right. You're doing fine."

...

And I would wrap my arms around my 20 year old self and hold on just a little longer than she felt comfortable with, whispering, "It's more than all right. It's perfect. You're perfect."

I feel in my bones that this next year is going to be a year of movement for me. I've all ready taken a big step... and each second I am one breath closer to making promises a reality. And there's something else big (for me) on the horizon, too. Something I've been to scared to change in the past, but now I'm too convicted not to move. It's time to take some big chances. ... I deserve it.

"Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world."
~Harriet Tubman

Hang in there, Amy. Keep believing and dreaming. There is so much good to come this year ... I can just feel it.


Love, Me

(*I'm sorry for the "vague-ry" ... right now I'm writing dreamy reveal posts that I hope to make a reality sometime soon. So excited to share with you as soon as I'm able!)

The best teacher I've ever had ...

"Love Letters": a series of love letters to the people in my life who have made a big difference in my world, published on their birthdays.

For my husband.

I met my soulmate when I was 14.

Of course, at the time, I was too busy to realize it. I was too busy trying to survive my first year of high school; alternately trying to blend into the background and to make an imprint on my little world in that awkward and endearing way we all do when we are young.

I was busy sighing over the high school football players, giggling with my friends, dreaming and making plans for my future. I was a prolific list maker even then, and, I admit, I even had (have) a tattered notebook paper list entitled, "The Perfect Guy Will …" I might not have had a boyfriend, but in my mind, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted ;)

Homecoming, 2002. The night I got my first kiss.

But the beautiful thing is, all the while I was planning things out for myself, Jon was there. He was there and he was everything I wanted, everything I needed, and everything I didn't even know to pray for.

We were good friends for over a year before we took our relationship to the next level. He made me laugh, and I loved the way I could talk to him for hours. I loved to shock & impress him with my (sometimes) dirty sense of humor and love of hard rock music. On a warm August evening, after a walk in the park and several games of bowling, I confessed that I liked him-- my heart pounding, terrified that our friendship would never be the same after that. It was probably one of the scariest moments of my life. And then. I will never forget the way he looked at me then; smiling, "Amy, I know…"

December, 2006

Jon was my first kiss. He was my first boyfriend, the first and great love of my life.

We've known each other for over 10 years now. We've been there for each other through the transition to college (x2), deaths of loved ones, nasty friend break-ups, 21st birthday celebrations, family dramas, living in 3 different states, the planning of a wedding, the living of a marriage, and the purchase of a house.

It hasn't been perfect, but we've been perfect together.

I've always known that being with Jon makes me a better version of myself, but since we've gotten married, I've felt his influence on my life more profoundly. He is my anchor, and I mean that with every fiber of my being. He grounds me when I am feeling flighty and malcontent. When I feel lost & insignificant, his love gives me purpose.

Halloween, 2007

Jon has taught me how to take the "macro approach" to life, to let go of the little things that serve no purpose other than to weigh me down. He has helped me to focus in on the relationships in my life, because they are truly what makes life worth living. He has taught me how to be respectful, but independent. He has been an incredible example to me of how to stay true to yourself in a world that sometimes wants to tear you in two: obligation vs. identity.

Engagement pictures, 2008

He has taught me all these things with a quiet, unobtrusive strength. I have learned all these things by simply watching the way he lives his life.

He is, perhaps, the best teacher I've ever had.

In the shelter of his love, I have blossomed.

Even when I live out the rest of my life loving this man, it will not be enough.

"Happy Birthday, Jon.

Thank you for choosing me."

Wrangling: {Welcoming the Dawn}

photo credit

(A weekly round up. Each week I am going to “wrangle” my life's happenings into a post filled with pictures, lists & general tidbits about the past 7 days.)

Hi friends, happy Friday!

(Oy. How on earth did it get to be Friday all ready?)

I feel like lately the weeks have been spinning by faster and faster, but this week has been in a league all its own. I've been busy at work, trying to get about a bazillion projects wrapped up in anticipation of my trip to Denver next week.

With the exception of yesterday, it's been a rainy week, perfect for nesting & getting the 'homey affairs' in order. We've spent our evenings in the kitchen, and snuggled under blankets on the couch. It's been chaotic, it's been frustrating and it's been emotional, with a bit of heady euphoria, joy and laughter. In short, it's been a beautiful, life filled, normal week.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(First off, a Love Letter.)

(photo from April & TJ, the proud parents)

Baby Aurora,

On Sunday April 17 our worlds, hearts and lives were changed for good.

Welcome to the world, sweet girl.

Love,
Aunt Amy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Have I ever told you about Thursday nights? For pretty much as long as I can remember, when I was growing up, Thursday night were the busiest nights of the week for us. When we were little, we had children's choir practice on Thursday nights; by the time I reached high school it had shifted to cross country practice followed by guitar lessons. For at least 2 semesters when I was in college, Thursdays consisted of a day in the lab, followed by tedious organizational meetings.

And at some point, I promised myself that someday I would LOVE Thursdays.

Last night, as I sat wrapped in a blanket, drinking a well deserved glass of wine and blasting AC/DC through my headphones while Jon watches Fam.ily Guy... I realized, I'm here. I love Thursday nights and their promise of relaxation before the final push. Just knowing that Friday-- and perhaps more importantly, the weekend is on the horizon -- sustains and comforts me. I look forward to Thursdays now.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(shower photos courtesy of Kaitie)

(Coffee bar: take a mug, fill it with whatever suits your fancy. It was a hit!)

Sunday was a rush. The whole weekend was, really. I've discovered that I absolutely live for entertaining. I love the planning and cleaning & anticipation of welcoming others into my home. I think that hosting a dinner party a month for the rest of my life would be heaven to me.... (Anyone in the Columbus area want to take me up on that?)

Sunday morning I woke early and lay in bed excitedly rolling through the details in my mind. At 10:30 am, my friend and co-host Kaitie arrived, and we spent the next several hours prepping decorations and favors.

(My other favorite "finishing touch" was the pillar candles in hurricane vases, surrounded by coffee beans. Looked cute, smelled amazing.)

We wrapped silvery wrapping paper around water bottles and tied ribbon around the handles of coffee mugs, we brewed countless cups of coffee and twirled crepe paper.

Although the invitations said 2pm -4pm, once Saundra, her mother and sister arrived, the party started. I think we laughed for 3.5 straight hours. It was wonderful. Being surrounded by a group of warm, witty women who were gathered to celebrate my best friend was truly uplifting.

And after everyone left & it was just the three of us: Kaitie, Saundra & me? That was awesome. The only thing better than sharing 1 super fun sophomore year of college living together has been gathering together 5 (wow) years later and catching up; reconnecting.

Being Saundra's bridesmaid (and more importantly, her friend) has blessed me in so many ways, and I am honored to be a part of her special day. ... Looking forward to June 25!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple weeks ago, when Jon & I were attending a family birthday party, I got a chance to sit and talk with my brother-in-law. (Read: I had relegated myself to the basement with the boys because the windows were open upstairs and I was hot; and I think Dan took pity on me because I was pretty much oblivious when it came to the gaming conversations. Truthfully, I wasn't phased. I'm used to being clueless about that stuff, haha. I was just enjoying my cake & ice cream and spacing out, content & comfortable with the company :) And while we were talking, he said something to me that totally caught me off guard. "I almost envy you, Amy," he said (I paraphrase.) "I mean, you run all the time ... and you like it."

I am absolutely floored that this is one of the ways others might see me & define me. Because in real life? This is something I struggle with on an everyday basis. I want to be a runner with every fiber of my being. But I struggle with the idea of calling myself a runner-- I feel that I'm falling short in so many ways. For example, I don't run every day. I never have... But some weeks? Some weeks I run once. I've pledged to myself that I am going to run a marathon in October, but I have a lot of anxiety about that. Quite frankly, I'm worried that I am going to slack too much on training and sabotage myself.

I know that I need to love myself in my imperfections, and to believe in my own abilities. I know that I need to push forward and not let the fears and the what-ifs hold me back.

...But sometimes that's easier said than done. I'm a work in progress, and this is definitely at the top of my "work on it" list. Between the rain & the fatigue, this has not been a "follow the plan running week" at all. But I am looking forward to a fresh start.

It's never too late for redemption.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As you might have picked up on, this week has been kind of a dark & contemplative one for me. I think it's the natural "ebb" (ya know, versus "flow") that comes at the tail end of a bunch of good stuff.... where all of a sudden you realize that your world has stopped turning upside down and you are left seated in the quiet emptiness thinking, "hey. what on earth do I do now?"

...Add that to a whalloping dose of hormones, and I had Jon throwing his hands up in the air saying, "I just. don't. understand. women." (Yes, my love, I know. That won't keep me from trying to explain to you to get you to empathize :)

So, there were some tears, there was dark chocolate consumption and there commenced some 10+ spiral notebook pages worth of soul-pouring. But even in the midst of the dark days, even as I ached & yearned for more, I could not be oblivious to the good. I've found that life is never exclusively black or white. The good has a way of creeping in and coloring the bad; blurring and softening the edges-- painting lifetimes out of days and moments; the shadows beautifully contrasting the vibrant colors and light.

Even in the darkest night, I believe light will return. And when the sun begins to rise, I welcome it with open arms.

Today, I celebrate & welcome the dawn.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Good List

1. Jon. He is my anchor.
2. 100 watt light bulbs
3. Head phones, and dancing around the kitchen during dinner prep.
4. Digging through the archives for a sure-fire pick me up: Wedding Memories

5. Spending some quality time gardening this past weekend.
6. this post
7. Spiral notebooks. I appreciate technology, but sometimes there's nothing like putting a pen to paper. Spiral notebooks & legal pads are my favorite :)
8. Double sided tape
9. Lighting candles to chase away the gloom of a rainy evening.
10. "Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again." --Sarah Ban Breathnach

Your Turn: Any good weekend plans -- or special Easter traditions? How are you welcoming the good in your week?

Blessed.

"Love Letters": a series of love letters to the people in my life who have made a big difference in my world, published on their birthdays.

(On our Wedding day: September, 2009)

The tongue-in-cheek comment that is second most likely to be heard when one gets engaged (second, of course to a good natured "Goodbye, freedom!") is, "You're really marrying the family, too, ya know. Hope you like 'em." ... And whenever people told me that, I just smiled because, the thing is: I do.

Ron & Christy, my father & mother-in law, are fantastic.Warm & welcoming, they made me feel like I was a part of the family well before I married into it. I am honored and blessed to be their daughter-in-law.

One of the most valuable things that I have learned from Jon is what it's like to have your family close to you, and what it really means to put them first. I don't mean in any way that I was anti-family before I met & married my husband, but when you grow up seeing your relatives twice a year like I did (more if we were lucky!), you don't really understand what it's like to be able to care for & be there for each other physically... to be able to gather for the non-major holidays and birthdays; to celebrate love and being together.

Some of my favorite family memories from the past few years are of sitting around the dining room table after dinner and laughing together. I just feel so relaxed and authentic when I am around them... it's easy for me to forget that I haven't always been there. I feel that with this new family of mine, who welcomed me with the utmost grace & open arms, another piece of my life's puzzle has locked comfortably into place. I know I belong in this family, and Ron & Christy are at the heart of that.

Of course, I would be untruthful if I didn't say that the biggest thing I am grateful to Ron & Christy for is giving me Jon. As we settle into married life together, I find that one of my greatest delights is really uncovering Jon's heart... what makes him tick... where he is deeply rooted and why he reacts the way he does. And finding these things makes me fall even more deeply in love with him: his values, his compassion, his work ethic. ... All wonderful things that I know he learned from example; from his mother and father. As I begin to think about having children of my own, I grasp more and more the beautiful burden and sacred responsibility that raising a child is. To be entrusted with the care & upbringing of a little soul is (and forgive me, this is so NOT eloquent:) huge, but largely a thankless job-- and good parents deserve to be celebrated.

So today I thank you, Ron & Christy, for all that you have done for us; for all that you have taught both Jon & myself about building & sustaining the love of a family. I look forward to many, many more wonderful years together, filled with beautiful memories.

Happy Birthday to you both, with much love.

(Christy, 3/4; Ron, 3/25)

On love ...

All right, full disclosure: I meant to publish this post... uhm, Monday :) I had my poem all typed up and the photos queued up in i*photo to edit, and then I got distracted. ...You know, it happens especially to those of us that are blessed with shorter than average attention spans Sigh.

But, you know what? Rather than table this post and save it for another occasion (which, realistically means that I send it to the post graveyard... I have so many 'beginnings' in my "edit posts" category, eagerly awaiting redemption...I digress...) I have decided to publish it today, two days after Valentine's Day. Rebellious, no? But I'm doing this because, you know? when it comes down to it, and you strip life of all it's frills and formalities... it's all about love.

So I've got a little poem at the end of the post for you to enjoy... but first, I'll take care of a little business :)

You may remember that in this post, I hinted about a new thematic series that I was going to work on throughout the rest of the year... My birthday tribute to my father was the first in the series.

As I was "taking a blog time-out" in December & working to find my voice, my first order of business was to step back and take a look at what I've been writing. And very quickly it became clear to me that my favorite posts, the ones I was most proud of, were on the subjects I am most passionate about. "Well, duh", I'm sure you're thinking... but this was kind of a hard won revelation. There is such a variety of good writing out there; different audiences, different approaches and different conversation styles; and I think (a necessary) part of my growth included dabbling in a little bit of everything (everything except food blogging. I mean, a girl who eats cookies for breakfast really has to draw the line somewhere, right?)

But, with that said, I know what I feel good about, and that's the direction that I'm headed with Amy Around the Corner. I'm calling the new series "Love Letters", because essentially, that's exactly what it is: a series of love letters to the people in my life who have made a big difference in my world.

I've always been better at writing than speaking my mind-- ask anyone. And love letters? Well, they're kind of my specialty. See, even though Jon & I have known each other for (woah.) 10 years, and have been "together" for 8, there was a time (about 6 months total, during my sophomore year of college) that we weren't dating. ...But I was still madly in love with him (ugh. romantic, sure. fun? Noooooo.) and because I believed with all my heart that we would end up together someday, I wrote him a love letter for every day that we were apart. Which, you know, gave me a lot of practice ;)

So while this new series may not be your typical "romantic" love letters, they are love letters all the same. Because if there's anything that I've learned in my 24 years, it's that I've never regretted telling someone I love how much they mean to me. ...So this new series is to honor & celebrate that. (Look for the tag "Love Letters".)

And now, without further ado:

For my Valentine:

When I first met you I was young

... In fact, that I had no idea

what true love really was;

that this kind of love could actually exist.

I was idealistic, I was a dreamer

I was stubborn and unyielding to reality.

But you believed in me

You stood beside me when I could hardly bear

to see

myself.

You loved me.

I owe my world to you, and bringing you into my life was one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

(P.S.: Gracie, Mama is so proud of you for the way you handled yourself at the vet on Monday. I knew you were scared, but you did so well, just snuggling into me as if to say, "Please take my home now!" You were so good. Thank you for handling the situation with grace, and living up to your name :)

P.P.S. : And because Monday today is all about spreading the love, much much love & happiness to this lovely lady, who just announced that she & her husband are expecting their first child! Congratulations, Samantha!

Walk the Talk

For my father

(September 19, 2009)

I must say that unequivocally, the coolest thing about growing up is that magical moment when you realize that you like your parents. Really like them, in fact. That instance when all of a sudden it becomes clear to you that, beyond the strong bond of family love... you find them interesting, and, goodness gracious!, you even have some stuff in common.

(May 1986)

The earliest memory I have of my father is lying on our family room floor, building "houses" with these big wooden blocks that we had. I remember that I didn't do too much building (although, I don't particularly remember knocking anything down, either, so maybe I was out of that stage?), but I remember sitting there mesmerized, watching as he built a sturdy foundation, and then went on to build tall walls to protect "the inhabitants" from the elements. (And, as I remember back, I believe that the inhabitants were probably a family of Fisher.Price 'Little People'.... The one in green was always the daddy, and the one in blue was always the mommy...) We set up clean white "pizza tables" for our pint size friends to eat around. ... and I remember that several years down the road we had similar adventures with legos :) This visual example of building a strong foundation & protecting and providing for family is symbolic to me of his role in my life, and in our family.

("Talking to Daddy", circa 1986)

(My first birthday, May 1987)

One of my other favorite childhood memories of my father was reading together.

(Reading with Daddy, circa 1986 ...do you see the title of the book? How appropriate!)

Every Saturday morning we would go to the library together (my dad would take me & my sister while my mother ran errands and did other "Saturday morning stuff"), and every night he would read us a bedtime story. We read all sorts of things together: the Paddington Bear stories, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys ... and even some of the Babysitters Club books (which I don't imagine were particularly his favorites...heh) I know it was definitely a favorite part of the day for my sister & myself, and he seemed to find great joy in it as well. Every once in a while he would sneak in his own comments, just to see if we were paying attention; and Paddington stories were especially fun , because when Paddington would get into his ridiculous (and inevitable!) snafus we woud all get to laughing so hard that it could take us 5 minutes to finish a sentence!

(Cycling together, circa 1987)

As got older we began to recognize the other interests that we shared, which centered primarily around music, faith & exercise. Starting (I think) as early as late elementary school, I started to be interested in the same kind of music as my father (our tastes ranged from country music to Christian rock to classics like Stevie Ray Vaughan and Clapton), and he indulged my interests by making casette tapes for me to play in my boom box. My mother tolerated our music, but she had her own favorites, so this was a special thing that we shared. Several years later, we started playing guitar around the same time, and would carpool to lessons. (I'll admit it right off the bat: my dad was a lot more diligent about practicing than I was, so I think he probably looked forward to lessons a lot more than I did!)

And in most recent years, we've shared a common interest of walking. My family has always prioritized movement (my sister and I didn't watch too much tv growing up... we've only picked up our bad tv habit in recent years...), which I know comes from the fact that my parents used to be very active "pre-kids": lots of walking & cycling. After I got engaged, my dad really started to get interested in walking: regularly logging 4 or 5 miles before work. And this was fantastic because, while my mother & I would languish and chat on our walks together; my father would push me (he's fast! Most times his miles are under 15 minutes!)

(Exhausted but impressed with our abilities after the 12 miler, August 2010.)

(Male walker 5k award winner!!! September, 2010.)

And while all these things are wonderful, and I'm proud to have these things in common, perhaps the most important thing that we share is our faith. The older I get, the more grateful I am that I have my father in my life as an example of my faith in action: to me, he really walks the talk. My father has always been an active participant in the church, helping in worship (ushering and delivering flowers) as well as seeking out opportunities for personal growth through Sunday school classes and retreats. Although he may not talk about his faith all the time, you can tell by his quiet strength exactly what his foundation is built upon. His support (as well as his love for contemporary worship music!) was key in getting me to the church I am involved with today ... and for that I am grateful beyond words (it's been a long journey... but I know without a doubt that this is where I belong: This is my home. Even though I am so far from having my life figured out, it's absolutely life-giving to have that one piece in place :) Furthermore, I know that it's from this deep faith that he has led our family with love all these years. (This video is fantastic, and really seems poignant to this discussion.)

(September 19, 2009)

And I can think of no better day to thank him & celebrate all that he is to me and my family.

"Thank you for all you've done in my life & continue to do. I am so blessed to have you as my father. I know that the future years will only bring us closer, and be filled with sweet memories."

"Happy Birthday, Daddy."

Hint, hint....

Stayed tuned for a special post coming at you tomorrow morning.

I'm super excited about this post for many reasons, one on them being that it kicks off a new "thematic series" that will continue throughout this year.

Pssst: here's a hint...

Faith Like a Child: How Lucas Saved Christmas

Sometimes I've just got so much that in my head that when I sit down to put it on paper… nothing comes out.

Do you know what I mean?

Sometimes there is just way too much that I want to say-- that I need to say-- and the wanting and needing gets all tangled up in the emotion and then the execution becomes absolutely ... well... exhausting. I've been thinking this post through for quite some time now-- as soon as I worked through it in my life I knew I'd like to write about it to gain some closure. But here I am. Tired and tongue-tied.

It's times like these where I really need to discipline myself to just sit down and let the words flow, rolling seamlessly from my thoughts onto the paper (or screen, as the case may be). ... And I've got a glass of red wine & a purring Gracie within arms reach, so I'm going to try. This may be some of the most raw, un-edited posting you will ever see from me -- But this is me. This is Real. And, ultimately... this is good.

I've always known that one of my biggest (okay... THE biggest) faults is that I'm impatient. I'm very "type A"... I like to have an idea of where things are going, and when I'm going to get there. I've had a basic life plan since I was 12, for crying out loud.

And I think this is why in November, at the age of 24, I felt totally blindsided when I woke up one day and realized that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I mean, I really didn't know, and that was scary.

I guess from a lot of angles, it seemed like I'd all ready DONE everything. College? check. Get married? check. Buy a house? check. But when all was said and done, I felt empty. I felt lost, and I felt like there was something wrong with me. You see, the only problem with counting your blessings is that when you are able to recognize all the good things in your life and still feel lonely and sad, there's only one explanation for it.

Clearly, you've gone insane.

I didn't know what my problem was... I'm blessed to be married to my best friend... I am a contributing member in my workplace... I have a lovely home and two delightful (if sometimes badly behaved) cats to snuggle & fill my life with mirth. And yet-- there was this void. I was unhappy, and I didn't have a clue what to do to fix it. I felt like I was stuck in a rut so deep that I couldn't even see the sunshine. Honestly? I felt lonely.

Needless to say, I was definitely not in the holiday spirit. Not at all.

I tried to pull myself out of it ... I really did. I tried every trick in the book: I ate chocolate (my holiday baking did not suffer one iota...); I journaled (pages upon pages); I snuggled with Gracie (spending the better part of some weekends in bed); I exercised (running & I are totally back on, btw); I prayed constantly. And it became clear to me that I couldn't do this by myself. Something outside of me was going to have to intervene.

And on December 19, someone came into my life that was able to yank me out of myself and change my perspective.

On December 19, my nephew Lucas was born.

One memory I will always treasure about his birth day was how we celebrated. Oh, how we celebrated... You see: Lucas is a smart little man. He timed his arrival "just so", and everything fell into place so that a big group of us was together-- Jon & me, both sets of grandparents, Jon's sister from Texas, my parents. We had spent the morning performing the Messiah at Church, and were headed out to lunch together when J's father received the good news via text message (where would we be without technology, right?!) What followed was a celebration of life like I had never been a part of before. There was laughter and tears… and so much love.

I think it was in those moments that I woke up. It was like I had been in a fog for the past 6 weeks, passing through a dream world. I've got to tell you, it was the best wake-up call anyone could hope for. To wake to hugs and kisses & stories told over multiple cups of coffee; homegrown warmth and peace & comfort that only time with family can provide. And it clicked for me… settling deeply and unshakably in my soul: this is what the season was really about-- what life is all about. It isn't about achieving everything on your to-do list, and it certainly isn't about simply moving from point A to point B. My faith tells me that I am right here right now for a reason. My family's love gives me the courage to stand in that moment and own it, even when I haven't yet discovered the gift that I hold in my hands, even now. Their love gives me the strength to laugh in the face of fear-- to smile in the face of the unknown, because their love is the one thing that is constant and unwavering. Their love coupled with my faith gives me the determination to dig deep and stand stand firm on the ground of my "now"… and I know that when the time comes, their love will support & uphold me as I venture forth into new territory. If I cannot say anything else for myself at the end of my life (and, lets be honest, I really hope I can… I'm just sitting here waiting for my divine directive :), I know that if I have created and sustained this kind of family love, it will be enough.

In short, the day was absolutely perfect.

And furthermore, Lucas is perfect. Jon & I brought dinner to his parents (Jon's sister & her husband) several days later, and we got to meet him. ...And we got to hold him; to stroke his downy head and experience the warm weight of a baby in our arms. Together, we rejoiced quietly in all the possibilities that he holds- delighting in his smallness now; wondering at the man he will become.

And it was (and is) good.

********
A brief afterward: Something else that has been important for me to realize is that my soul seems to periodically experience these "winters" of angst and unrest. But, like the earthly season, the winters don't last-- they move gracefully into soft springs.As an optimist, I hold to the hope that someday the "winters" will simply cease to exist … but until that time I will give thanks for the wonderful people who have been put in my life to guide me as I grow.

Live Big

For my Grandpa.

Reading with Grandpa (Clearly, I am the small, bald one.)

I feel incredibly blessed to be able to say that I've had many strong, wonderful influences in my life. Through the years, these people have encouraged me, inspired me, and brought to the surface the most authentic , if most hidden pieces of my soul. Who I am, and perhaps more importantly, who I am becoming, would not be possible without them.

So with this in mind, I’d like to tell you about one of the special ones; a man who has left an indelible hand print on my heart: my grandfather.

When my sister and I were growing up, our grandparents lived in Carlisle, PA. It was always such a treat to go and visit them, to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa. They lived in a large, beautiful old house, and Laurie and I spent our summers devouring books on the wrap around porch. Christmases were spent in Carlisle as well, and the large house was filled with joyful laughter and warm, sweet christmas-y smells. My formative years were spent surrounded by the love of family in that house, and in my heart I still consider it home.

Grandpa was blessed with 6 granddaughters, and he loved each of us with all he was. He recognized our unique talents, and had special ways of showing each of us his love. When we got to spend time with Grandpa, we knew we were the center of his world. He was quick to brag to his friends about all the things we were doing, though we rolled our eyes and blushed outwardly, on the inside we were glowing.

Some of my favorite memories are from when he would take me with him on one of his “downtown trips” -- usually to the bank or the post office. Carlisle is a small college town (it houses Dickinson College), and “our house” was across the street from the college—which meant we had the luxury of walking pretty much everywhere. It was such an honor to be asked by Grandpa to run errands with him, and I remember holding his hand and chattering excitedly to him about everything when I was small (i.e.: we had a particularly memorable conversation when I was about 5, when I tried to convince him I had another sister, whom he had never met ...) We would take joy in everything we saw—new buds on the trees, a shiny penny on the sidewalk, colorful bugs(!), the sunshine breaking through the clouds… As I got older our walks were not so much filled with conversation, but a comfortable silence, and I believe, still the mutual wonder and awe at all that surrounded us (and I still held his hand as we crossed the street.)

My Grandpa was older (we celebrated his 90^th birthday on December 25, 2003), but I always took it for granted that he’d be around forever. He was just filled with life-- he enjoyed taking his neighbors out to dinner, attending family reunions (his signature 'pot luck' dish was a bag of Oreos!), and singing bass for the church choir. It was a big inconvenience for him when he had to start walking around town with a cane. Nevertheless, when he got sick in the fall of 2004, life went quickly... He was gone by Christmas, dying just short of his 91^st birthday.

How can you fully describe the pain of loss? (Really -- I'm still at a loss…) I think perhaps I felt as if a part of me had died too. I felt like my world was falling apart, and that, effectively, this was the end of my childhood. I had just finished up with the first semester exams of my freshman year, and it felt to me like time had stopped. All I could think about was how I would give anything just to tell him “I love you” one more time. I just shut down, and effectively “numbed off”, I kept everything inside and tried to maintain a strong exterior, when inside my heart was breaking.

I really didn’t even want to go to the funeral. I was completely broken and poured out, and I didn’t think I had the strength to give any more. Visiting hours were some of the most beautiful and painful moments I’ve ever experienced, as I got to laugh and pray ( and cry, there was surely no shortage of tears) with all the people who gathered to remember him. It was a celebration of a long a full life, lived out by a man who loved God with all he was, faithful up until the very last moments. My mother told me later (I remember we were driving together, and I was trying to focus on the road through my tears) that he wasn’t afraid. His faith was so strong, and he realized that even as his earthly body failed, his soul was strong and complete, and he was ready to go home.

It’s been years now, and my heart still aches for him sometimes. It’s funny, because sometimes the smallest things can awaken the deepest parts of my heart that I’ve convinced myself have been effectively hidden away. James Herriot, NPR, and long walks are just a few of the things that bring me close to Grandpa again. Most of all though, it hurts when I realize there was so much more I wanted to learn from him, as I really look to his life as one of my most powerful examples.

However, as I move beyond the hurt, I am left with so many beautiful memories. I am still amazed at the brilliance of the details that come back to me when I close my eyes-- these memories can still take my breath away. Grandpa gave me so many lasting things! He inspired me to obtain an engineering degree, instilled in me a love of math (except word problems.. y'all know how I feel about word problems…), and whenever I go for a run, I feel closer to him. He is a continual inspiration for me to strengthen my faith, and, perhaps most important to me: Grandpa is a prime example of someone leading out a faithful life in service.

~ ~ ~

As I sit here tonight, I allow my mind to wander-- and inevitably, it comes down to identity. And I think about who I am. .. I know that in a majority of my posts my heart has been crying out (...and not at all subtly, so I'm sure you've gotten the message), "I'm waiting to 'find myself'... I'm here and I'm waiting. I don't know what I am meant to do, but I trust things will fall into place..." And, while I am still very much there -- I find that in writing this, an undeniable truth has emerged:

I know who I want to be. ... And, like my Grandpa, I want to live a big life.

I want to be a quiet but steadfast force for good in the world. I want to be able to go to sleep at night knowing I have given my all: every. single. day. I want to invest in the future through my children and grandchildren, and above all-- I want to touch people's lives by being an example of love in the world-- really respecting and valuing each person in their individuality. And this, friends, is what it means to live a 'big life'.

This I know. ...And tonight? Tonight it is enough. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, and I surely don't know what move to make next (I do know, however, without a doubt, I do need to move ... I need to be vague about this for now, but I'll fill you in as I'm able :) but I know what I ultimately want, and that's surely a good start.

So, in closing, I thank you, Grandpa, for so many things. I thank you for your patience, for your wisdom, and most certainly I thank you for your love. I am so thankful to have known you, as you blessed my life in ways that I am only beginning to understand. I love you.