What Is Resolution Without Dissonance

What is resolution without dissonance?

This is something I talk to my students about all the time. Music is filled with dissonance—tension, clashes, disharmony. And it is filled with consonance—resolution, release, sounds that are right and pleasing and natural. 

I talk to them about how a passage or a harmony filled with tension, though on its own not always particularly pleasant, is transformed into a thing of beauty by the resolution that follows it. And perhaps more importantly, this resolution is made more meaningful, more gratifying, more pure and special because of the tension it arose out of. 

What is resolution without dissonance?

In lessons I'm so focused on conveying musical and artistic ideas to my students that it hadn't ever occurred to me to apply this same philosophy to my own life outside of music. It wasn't until I heard Seymour Bernstein say it in his documentary that it struck me. My brain was able to zoom out and see that this elemental part of music that I've been coaching my students on for years is one I need to be coaching myself on too. When I play music it comes naturally—I gravitate toward those rich, complicated, moody chords, I lean on them before I move away and then I relish the way they resolve into openness and freeing release. 

But as a Christian, as someone whose faith isn't as a strong as I wish it were, as a human with imperfections and dreams disturbed and a desire to trust in God despite how things are going, I need this lesson to become a bigger part of me.

When life is dissonant I want to lean into it, not away from it. I want to feel tension and longing. I want to recognize and accept it. I want the grace to see struggle as something that can lend strength and goodness and character and godliness if only I let it. I want to wait in joyful hope and with peace in my soul for unrest to end and resolution to take over.

Because when resolution does come, it will be so much more beautiful than it ever could be on its own.

What a joyful discovery that is! I'm grateful—always grateful—for the way music continues to teach me the most profound of life's lessons.

Happy weekend to you all!

On Making Your Own Adventures

Last week at the end of the day on Friday, I was feeling weird and restless. It had been a full and productive week and I was in the mood to do something but was having a hard time coming up with a fun thing to do that didn't cost money. We're trying very hard these days to be conscious of our spending--in general but also in anticipation of our Japan trip--and at 4:00 on a Friday, the only ideas I could think of involved drinks or food.

What's a girl to do!?

I was getting mopey. My husband suggested I take a long walk and reminded me that fresh air always makes me feel better. I mulled this over. We talked about dinner. We had planned an indulgent Friday night dinner of hot dogs with some kale and brown rice on the side for health and balance. I told him we didn't have hot dog buns. Cue more mopiness on my part.

And then my husband (as he is apt to do) saved my afternoon. "Why don't you walk to that cute little food store near the park and buy us some hot dog buns?" 

Ok, I know that on the surface that doesn't sound like fun, or a very romantic suggestion on my husband's part. But the man knows me. This was exactly the adventure I needed. The store he was referring to is about a mile away from our house, a perfectly walkable distance, but in our town we are so used to jumping in the car when we need something that it wouldn't have occurred to me to hoof it.

"It'll feel like you're in New York." He knows I miss those days of walking 30 blocks without a second thought, my little bodegas where I used to pick up that one thing I was missing for dinner. The people-watching and buzz of life all around. They were little adventures.

It was a chilly day but I was already feeling my spirits lift so I bundled up, popped in ear buds and turned on my Radical Face Pandora station, grabbed a tote, and set out down the street.

The store didn't have hot dog buns.

As far as I was concerned, though, my Friday afternoon mission was completed. I was mopey no longer. I smiled to myself, thinking how funny it was that I had walked 20 minutes (one way) to buy hot dog buns at a store that doesn't carry hot dog buns. I bought some regular bread and a few ripe avocados and some lemon mint tea and began my trek home, red-cheeked and tingling and happy.

The hot dog buns were just the excuse anyway.

(Photo above is an adorable house I noticed while walking.)

The Tea I Drink With Him

I just read the most beautiful tribute to marriage, Madeleine L'Engle's Two-Part Invention. Have you read it? L'Engle is probably most known for A Wrinkle in Time but I think her non-fiction writing is just exquisite. She brings the most honest, simple yet sublime insights into relationships, faith, art, the human condition.

Two-Part Invention got me thinking about those little things we do in marriage that can give us so much pleasure if we let them. In our house, I'm the hot drinks-drinker. I've gone through coffee phases but my main standby in the morning is strong black tea made from loose leaves and with a good splash of cream on top. I also have been known to drink a cup of jasmine green tea in the afternoon. And ever since I got a milk frother as a gift from my parents I love making steamed milk with cinnamon and sugar, often as an after-dinner treat.

But my husband, for the longest time, resisted the hot drinks habit (even in college?!) and so for the first part of our marriage I would always make a lonely pot of tea for one. A pot of tea for one can be nice, but a pot of tea for two is better. There's something sophisticated and cozy about starting the morning together with two steaming mugs--at the breakfast table during the week and in bed on the weekends, outside on the porch on mild summer days.

I don't know what eventually wore him down but I'm thinking it might have been my irresistible ability to produce a mean cup of Earl Grey. I got him to try it and he was hooked. It's still not an every morning thing for him as it is for me but on those mornings when I ask and he says, yes, he will take some tea, I find such pleasure in making it for him, brewing it to the right strength and adding a quarter inch of cream and letting it cool a bit the way he likes it.

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread.

This is the poem Madeleine L'Engle's husband read to her when he asked her to marry him and from what I can tell, the spirit of it infused their whole marriage. Making tea for my husband is a small thing, tiny even. But I think Conrad Aiken had it right. The tea I drink with him is more than tea. 

What a gift to live our lives together in this way, don't you think?

The Earth Has Music For Those Who Listen

Today I was having a bit of a low morning mood-wise, plus we needed groceries and trash stickers.

(Don't ask.)

Only a few select places sell the stickers required for our city's very strange trash pickup system and I decided that this was as good an excuse as any to go to Whole Foods, which is one of the places that carries them. I'm a bit too frugal to actually shop at Whole Foods for most things so I devised a plan. I would take myself on a little "me" date to Whole Foods and then go get our groceries across the street at Trader Joe's. Perfect.

When I got there it was blissfully uncrowded, it being a Wednesday morning, and I walked past the carts and baskets and straight to the coffee counter to order myself a small coffee with cream. This is a decadent thing for me these days since I've pretty much given up coffee, and not for lack of a taste for it. Already I was feeling better.

Drink in hand I sauntered over to the beauty aisle where I leisurely browsed the organic soaps and all-natural lotions and sipped. I considered getting myself a treat (the chamomile and lavender moisturizing mist tempted me) but decided instead that just wandering and sniffing and looking at the pretty packaging was more fun. The goal here was pure therapy by way of zoning out and indulging in the senses and I really didn't need to buy anything to get that.

When I was done with my coffee I went over to customer service, bought my trash stickers and a book of stamps from a very kind cashier and left feeling noticeably refreshed. It was lovely.

And then, to top it off, Trader Joe's didn't let me down. I came home with blood oranges and the makings for BLTs and dark chocolate coconut almonds.

You know, I have this theory that when things seem a little bleak that's actually when we notice and recognize small beauties most clearly. On a normal day blood oranges are just blood oranges, but on a dreary day they can become something special and purposeful. When our emotional state has room for improvement we are suddenly in a position to rejoice over anything that might cross our path, anything that might lift us, anything our heart chooses to latch on to.

Another thing I discovered at Trader Joe's was their greeting card section, which I hadn't ever noticed before. One card was blue and yellow and pink and beautifully designed and it said, The Earth has music for those who listen.

I couldn't help but think that card was for me. Because of circumstances that I would change in a second if I could, I was feeling low. But also because of these circumstances I was listening with all my heart for guidance and watching out for every bit of loveliness I could cling to.

It's true. The Earth has music for those who listen. My music this morning was a cup of coffee and a basket of blood oranges. And a good helping of grace.

Sameness

Lately, my Dad has become fascinated with early--and I mean early--human history. Cave drawings and unearthed skeletons and archaeological digs and other such things. When we were up in D.C. this weekend he was telling us a little bit about what he's been reading and I keep thinking about something he told us.

He said that the thing he's been most struck by in all of his study on this subject is just how hauntingly similar these humans who lived 30,000 years ago were to us humans living today. They had vivid imaginations and were compelled to creativity. They sketched each other's faces. Scientists have discovered drawings done by young boys that are strikingly graffiti-like, that depict the same kinds of things today's young boys are interested in--roughhousing, lewd imagery, that sort of thing. They were motivated by fear and love. They had religion. My Dad was saying that it's all very poetic and beautiful to think that they really weren't all that fundamentally different from us.

So if we aren't very changed from the humans who roamed the earth 30,000 years ago, how different are we really from other humans living today?

I think we tend to notice and even emphasize the differences we see and feel between ourselves and other people. Differences are indeed there and they're largely positive--they make us interesting, they give us depth and richness, uniqueness. But how lovely to remember, at the same time, just how alike we are. It's funny--I've gotten 7 or 8 calls and emails over the past 10 days from people looking to begin piano lessons. That's about as many inquiries as I got in all of November and December. But in January we humans like to set resolutions, begin new beginnings, try things we've never tried before. What better time is there to learn to play the piano than in the early weeks of a new year? We are all in agreement on that, apparently.

I'm really not much of a science girl but I sure do enjoy when science collides with beauty and love and art and helps us to understand things beyond the purely physical. Thanks Dad, for sharing this with me.

Image Source

Three Years

The list of things I love about marriage is long and wide and deep but in year three, here's the thing I've loved most. No matter what happens in life--in work and with friendships, in events that are out of our control, in the parts of our days that cause anxiety or pain or a sense of vulnerability--no matter what, we always have someone who will lift us up. Someone who cares just as much as we do.

Likewise, when life gives us joy and dreams fulfilled and hearts that sing we have someone to share it with, someone who will dance with us in the kitchen and reflect our toothy, giddy smile and say exactly the perfect thing.

We are one and we are a team and his happiness is mine and my pain is his and our joy together is magnified for having shared it. There's no other relationship that comes so close to the perfect one we share with God.

Happy anniversary, dear husband. Thank you for another year of lifting me and grounding me all at once, and for bringing me so much joy.




Photo Credit

City Living

Phew! It feels like ages since I sat down to write. I arrived back home on Monday and the weekend in New York was really wonderful. I thought I'd type out some of the trip's highlights...

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The food. We ate some delicious food. Zucchini fritters with tzatziki sauce from a favorite Greek place. The best donut I've ever eaten--a light, and fluffy vanilla bean glazed exterior with a tart, homemade blackberry jam filling. Mussels and frites and haricots verts from my beloved French restaurant in my old neighborhood. Slices of plain cheese pizza from the best pizzeria in NYC. Grilled polenta with mushrooms from my sister-in-law's favorite restaurant in the West Village. A decadent treat I used to sometimes get back in my city days--Hungarian coffee (coffee with almond extract, whipped cream, and cinnamon) from the Hungarian Pastry Shop.

Everything was so yummy.

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My brother and I went to one of the most awe-inspiring art exhibits I've ever seen. It's hard to explain really. Hanging from the ceiling of St. John the Divine Cathedral are two, 100-foot long sculptures made from debris the artist found at construction sites. One is a male phoenix and the other is a female phoenix and they are breathtakingly beautiful. This is modern art done extremely well and it would be worth a trip to NYC to see them before the exhibit is taken down.

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Meeting my brother's girlfriend was very fun. We all had a lovely meal together and it was great to finally meet her after hearing lots of bits and pieces about her from my brother. She's so sweet!

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Lots of gabbing and girl talk with my sister-in-law. I'm so thankful for her! She truly is the sister I never had and our conversations about life and love and family are so good for my soul.

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I got to go to Redeemer with my brother! Sadly, Tim Keller preached at the early service so we didn't get to hear him, but the service was very moving and rewarding all the same. The music was especially beautiful and whenever I go to Redeemer I always feel such sincerity and liveliness among the congregation. It's a very special church and we left refreshed.

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On Friday afternoon I had a total urge to play frisbee (college campuses on cool, fall days will do that to me) so we hunted around for awhile until we found one in a tiny, packed-to-the-gills hardware store near Columbia. It was actually really funny. The shopkeeper didn't know what a "frisbee" was so we described it as "a flying disc"...."you play catch with it?" He knowingly smiled and said "ahh" before climbing up on a ladder to reach a very, very high shelf, from which he pulled down a dusty, orange frisbee wrapped in cellophane. We payed $5 for it and walked to Morningside Park, as if this were a perfectly normal way to acquire a frisbee. It was all very weird and satisfying.



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The best part was time spent with two of my favorite people. I loved being back in "my" city, I loved smelling the familiar smells and getting around on the subway and ordering pricey coffee from cute cafes. But mostly it was so wonderful to see my brother and my sister-in-law in their home environments. I feel terrifically happy to be living on the East Coast again and nearer to the people I love!

Worry From A New Perspective

I'm happy that October is here. October is a cozy, comforting, month, and something that I'm trying to do this October (in general, really, but let's keep the goal small for now) is to worry less. 

Becoming Un-Stuck

We've been in Charlottesville for just about two months now. When family members and friends ask how we like it, it's not an exaggeration to say that in so very many ways, living here has been one enormous upgrade. And it's made me think--would I have noticed all of these small but really, pretty huge, luxuries and beauties and wonders had I not spent two years struggling to find my way in a place that never felt like home, a place far from everything I knew and that I never really cared for?

Friday Musings

I had the best afternoon yesterday. Without saying too much (there will be a post coming on it next week) I spent about three hours cleaning, measuring, cutting, and assembling copper pipes. And then turned them into something I'm awfully proud of. As far as DIYs go it was a first for me, and it might be my favorite project yet.

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I taught my first piano student this week! Hooray! It was a fantastic first lesson with a very interesting student and I feel so lucky to be able to do this job that I love. First lessons are a little nerve-wracking for me--it feels a bit intimidating to let strangers into your home, have them sit at your piano, and proceed to talk for 30 or 60 minutes about one of your deepest passions. It's a vulnerable business I'm in and anonymity and privacy aren't really available. But that's one of the reasons it's so rewarding. I ended the lesson really believing I'd passed on something valuable and important and enriching.

DIY Large Scale Photo Art

I've found that while my design and decor style definitely leans traditional in some ways, I also like making dramatic statements in my home. Not in a hot-pink-chairs, super-modern-art, bright-turquoise-walls kind of way, but in the sense that I don't shy away from a good dose of unusual, quirky, eclectic, or even daring when it comes to how I put together our home. My funky ideas don't always work (I have a post coming later in the week about a paint color that didn't at all turn out the way I thought it would i.e., it looked terrible) but when they do work, I always feel so happy that I made the less typical choice and went with something a little more interesting and unique.

A Marriage Refresher

Blurry but lovely all the same!

This weekend, we went to the wedding of a beautiful friend of mine from college. She looked exquisite and filled to the brim with joy. I just love seeing my friends find their soulmates!

One of the many things I love about weddings is that they're like little marriage refreshers for me and my husband. We listen to the homily and think about our own relationship and the little ways we can love each other better. We reminisce about our wedding day and laugh and smile together. We remember the exact moments when we stated our vows and get a little teary (I do, anyway!). We think about how our bond has changed and grown and been strengthened over the course of our marriage so far. We always leave weddings feeling so happy for our friends and thankful for our marriage and glad for this wonderful thing called love.

So thank you, J and J! For sharing your special day and allowing us the chance to renew our own love.

Remembering This Summer

During college my summers were constructive and purposeful and memorable. My first summer after freshman year I went to a seven-week-long music festival in Western New York. The next summer I had an internship in DC, the next summer an internship in Hoboken, NJ. Each summer I was in a different place and with different people, accomplishing something unique and interesting for those few months in between school years.

In between my two years of grad school I was working hard on our cookbook with my family and planning my wedding at the same time. It was a beautiful summer filled with summer tomatoes and gorgeous recipes and lots of paper and ribbon and happiness.

Once there are no longer school years to divide and define, time starts blending together a little more, don't you think? It's not bad, just different. Other things make certain seasons or even months or weeks stick out in our memories. And I have a feeling that this summer, with its particular smells and moments and emotions, I think it'll be one that lasts and lasts.

I'll remember this summer for its joy. As we drove a short two and a half hours last weekend through the Blue Ridge Mountains and Northern Virginia's wine country up to a family reunion, I felt so much joy at finally being close to family. To be able to drive to see loved ones--amazing! This state, in all of its beauty, brings me joy and I'm proud to live in a place with history and old stone buildings that have been around for centuries and plaques on the side of the road that are fun to stop and read. Waking up in our sweet little house brings me joy. As long as my home is a place of beauty and peace and rest, a place where my family and friends feel safe and protected, a place filled with love and wholesomeness and honesty, then I've succeeded.

I'll remember this summer for our little screened porch. I catch myself sitting here and looking out at the trees with an involuntary smile on my lips. It's such a place of calm for me. I'll remember these summer mornings on the porch with a cup of tea and this blog and the birds and the streams of early sunlight peeking in. To have a place that is part of my home yet also a part of nature is magical.

I'll remember this summer for the ways God has proven faithful. These past few years were hard. I've sort of blocked out some of it but when I make myself remember how lonely some of those months were, it makes me exceedingly grateful for the here and now. The way forward was lit by faith alone.

As we grow deeper into our new lives and establish routines and build relationships, as it always happens, I'm sure a bit of the novelty and newness will wear off. Not that we'll take it for granted but there will be a settledness and a normalcy and a regularity to all of it. There's a beauty to this too.

But this time we're in right now, this summer of intensity and heart-swelling gratitude and deeply felt love of place and home and family and friends, I'll remember it for a very long time.

Family Heirlooms

We've only lived in this little house of ours for 26 days but when I walk through its rooms it doesn't feel new, it feels deep and familiar. My childhood nightstand fills a perfect little nook in the bathroom. The china cabinet that my Mom had in her home for her entire married life is in our kitchen, doing double duty as both a wonderful storage piece and a hundred-year-old work of art. The ivory keys that felt hours of practice by my much-younger hands are steps from where I sit, timeless and un-aged and loyal as ever.

The passing on of special things has always meant so much to me. I come from a family in which this is a very big tradition and I try to never take it for granted. How much more lovely it is to serve Christmas dinner on Grandma's Wedgwood china than anything new I could find! How wonderful to hang a painting in our home that was picked out by Dad as a gift for Mom. There's a history to the things that fill these rooms. These family gifts have helped make our house a home.

As a small thank-you to my parents I designed this card to send to them. I wanted to feature one of their hand-me-downs and this gorgeous pottery teacup is just so photogenic (despite my limited photography skills!).



Mom and Dad, we're so thankful! We love it all, down to every last teacup.



card c/o Treat

Waiting Makes Everything Sweeter

I never thought we'd have to wait 2.5 years to open all of our beautiful wedding gifts, but I have to say, there's something very exciting, something giddy and happy, about performing this newlywed ritual months and months after we could realistically be called newlyweds. Our gifts had been boxed up and tucked away until this past week when we finally retrieved them and starting going through each special package, one by one.

Some of them are things we carefully picked out online for our registry when we were first engaged and we're just now getting to see in person how perfect those simple white dishes are. Some are bridal shower gifts that bring back the sweetest memories when I see them again (of a day positively brimming with the most heartfelt kind of love) and it's such a pleasure to show them to my husband and tell him a story about that day. Some are gifts that we took the quickest peek at the morning after our wedding before catching the train to New York. Now, when we open them again, we can savor them and turn them over in our hands and re-live that morning. With each gift we're reminded of how thoughtful and kind and generous our families and our friends are. And we're reminded of that most special time in our lives when we were just becoming husband and wife.

You'd think I'd have learned this lesson by now, but please feel free to remind me of it whenever I'm acting anxious/impatient/sick and tired of waiting.

The waiting makes everything sweeter.

26

I woke up today in the best way--to a cute card from my doting husband and a sweet email from my parents containing some adorable and funny childhood photos. It's my birthday! And I feel so very loved.

The movers are coming at 7:30 am on Monday so today we need to take care of a few important items like getting new military ID cards and checking in with the Army transportation office. But the rest of the day is wide open. I asked my husband to take me to see The Fault in Our Stars which arrived in theaters today. I read the book and liked it and I think a romantic chick flick is a perfect birthday treat. Then we're having dinner at our favorite local restaurant, which is always and every time phenomenal.

Simple and sweet, just how I like to celebrate.

Today is my mother-in-law's birthday too and I was hoping that this year we'd finally be able to meet for a birthday lunch, but we'll have to just have a belated one (she lives about an hour from our new home in Charlottesville). It's so much fun sharing our birthday!

Turning 26 isn't as momentous as turning 25, but today I'm feeling really happy and calm and so so so very grateful. God's blessings are rich and good and plentiful and I think this year will be a great one.

I'm Doing Just Fine

Scene from yesterday: a billowing curtain and fresh April air.

Sometime last week, I was having a bad day. I was discouraged and getting worked up and not feeling super happy. On that same day, my mom sent me this WSJ article called, "Advice For A Happy Life." My bad day and the timing of her email had nothing to do with each other--purely coincidental--and my mom meant nothing other than to send me an article she knew I'd like. But I do remember reading just the title and thinking--ok good, yes, this is what I need to read right now. What am I doing wrong?! Why aren't things going according to plan?! I'm not having a happy time of things right now, and maybe it's my fault. I need this advice!

And then I read the article and realized, I'm doing just fine.

Here are the author's five pieces of very wise advice for leading a happy life:


Consider marrying young.

Learn how to recognize your soul mate.

Eventually stop fretting about fame and fortune.

Take religion seriously.

Watch "Groundhog Day" repeatedly.


Here I was, thinking I was going to get a very welcome spiel on not taking yourself so seriously, focusing on the present and choosing to let tomorrow's worries go, learning how to laugh in the face of difficulties. After all, that's usually how these kinds of articles go and honestly, I would have been all ears had this been the advice. My fears were getting in the way of my happiness that day, and I suppose I wanted some justification that I was unhappy for good reason. I suppose I wanted to be told that if I can only laugh at myself, I'll feel better. I wanted to be told that these thoughts were normal but ten deep breaths would go a long way toward feeling peace. I guess I wanted this article to sympathize with me and then provide a quick fix.

But this article wasn't fluff. It was wise and honest and true. And it provided me with something much more valuable than justification and some flimsy pick-me-ups. It made me realize, I'm doing just fine.

I don't know what my one-year plan looks like, let alone my five-year plan, but I've got a husband and he's going through every step with me and we're going to look back on this time of not knowing and be so glad for the richness and the lessons and the love in these early years of our marriage.

I don't have control over a lot of the things my heart desires, but I've found my soul mate. My heart has found its resting place and even on days it feels heavy, my heart isn't lost. It belongs.

Wondering how successful I will be as a piano teacher and a musician and an artist scares me, and I don't know what my niche in the creative world will be just yet. Thank goodness I never cared about fame and fortune! I was talking with one of my students last week about when we are planning to move, and he told me that things just won't be the same without me. We started his lessons the same month he relocated to Alabama with his family so he's seen me every week for the whole time he's lived here. It was so touching and helped me to remember that if I can influence and inspire even just one young pianist, I'm doing ok.

I have so much to learn about faith and trust and godliness but I am 100% committed to the discovery. And I'm realizing that God teaches us so much through our trials, I need only be open to what He is trying to show me.

I've only seen "Groundhog Day" once, but I've got time on my side.

Spring Cleaning

A "just because it's gorgeous" photo for you

There's lots of busyness and logistics getting sorted out in the Harvey household these days. New phones and a new phone company (an actual human picks up on the first ring whenever I call customer service--we're totally sold!), decisions about moving and housing, and all kinds of future stuff. It feels like spring cleaning on a life level, if you know what I mean. Lots of new-and-improved, lots of goals, lots of change.

I'm trying to be really mindful in this season of my thoughts and my stress level and the way I'm dealing with all of this change. Because it's a lot! All good, but I really want to do it well and not become overwhelmed (whenever possible) and keep the important stuff at the forefront of my mind. This move will entail a lot of adjustments in our lifestyle and sometimes I put pressure on myself to make everything smooth and flawless and to do it all perfectly. The truth is, I don't really know exactly what our new lives will look like and that can be frightening. I have to remind myself that we will meet people and make friends, that I will find piano students, that I'll connect with the artists and creatives in our community, that we will make our home beautiful no matter what, that we will figure things out like we always do.

So I'm making it my mission to be mindful. When I first wake up, I remind myself to look at my husband next to me instead of jumping up to check my email. I'm taking a lot of walks and listening to pretty songs. I read my Jesus Calling app early in the morning and try to let it guide me in my thoughts for the day. One of the phrases from a recent devotion was "Trust with every fiber of your being." That stuck with me, that image of letting trust into every single nook and cranny of my life. Trusting with every inch of my body and soul.

This is life lately and it's a bit of an up and down battle, but it's rich and beautiful and filled to the brim with lessons and a whole lot of love.

A Chat About Marriage

I've been thinking about one particular aspect of marriage for the past few days, trying to sort it out in my mind. Maybe you can help.

The one person who sees you at your very worst is the same person who loves you more than anyone else in the world.

How does that work?!

But it's true, isn't it? My husband sees me at my worst. I don't just mean first thing in the morning, sans makeup, or when my cheeks were the size of balloons after getting my wisdom teeth out (I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd run away from me screaming, it was that horrible). I mean that he sees my faults, my flaws, the weaknesses and gaps in my character that make me human and vulnerable. He sees me when I'm petty, when I'm feeling sorry for myself, when I'm afraid. He sees it all. Yet he loves me completely and fully and with grace and humor and forgiveness.

Sounds an awful lot like the kind of love that comes down from the heavens, does it not?

I believe that's what marriage is and I think it's why it works. Ultimately, we are meant to love our spouses as God loves us. Of course we can never match His love. But it is when we strive for godliness in our marriages, when we serve and put away selfishness and offer up our hearts and forgive over and over, that's when marriage is ultimately fulfilling and good.

I read a bunch of books on marriage when I was engaged and the main thing I gleaned from my reading and studying was that I wanted to be a godly wife. The kind of wife who has the strength to surrender her ego for the good of her family. The kind of wife who never embarrasses her husband in front of others. The kind of wife who doesn't dominate or control or demand, but is respectful and sincere and calm and graceful. The kind of wife who accepts her husband and forgives his faults and prays for him continuously, who gives of herself generously. A strong, loving, beautiful wife.

Ok, typing that makes me realize I still have a lot of work to do. I'm sure I'll always have work to do. But to me, this is the path to loving my husband the best I possibly can. And I believe it's the path to a true and good and wholesome and intensely rewarding marriage.

(Taking silly photos together never hurts, either.)

Houses And Homes

Noah Zinsmeister Photography

A house....a home....I've got them on the brain in a big way these days. Why they're important and what it is that turns brick and concrete and wood into a space that feels like "home" and why these spaces mean so much to us.

The timing is almost eerie. My husband and I are looking for our first house to buy--and while that may not happen, and we may just rent, we're looking and hoping and trying to determine if this is the right path for us to take. Meanwhile, my parents have just sold my childhood home in Upstate New York. While we play the role of the buyer my parents have been playing the role of the seller, and it's made for some interesting perspective.

I'm glad that I've had this very apt distraction while my parents' home is changing hands. It's sort of poetic actually. I know that I haven't lived in my childhood home in 7 years, and that my husband and I made a home of our own 2 years ago. But this house I grew up in was home, it was familiar in a way I haven't really had since. I always felt so proud of it and loyal to it. I'll always treasure this photo my brother snapped on the morning of my wedding. Me, on the most important day in all of my 23 years, heading to my parents' room to look at myself in their full length mirror right after getting dressed, in a hallway I traipsed through thousands of times over many years. This photo juxtaposes "once-in-a-lifetime" with normal, familiar, known.

And now, my husband and I are searching for precisely this. Our first home. It may not be in the cards just yet. A rental is still a home and we'll fill whatever place we end up in with our things and our particular scents and our love and struggles and joy. It's ok if we have to wait.

Either way, I know we have a lot to look forward to. If it's in 2 months or in 5 years, someday we will have the opportunity to make a home, a home, for ourselves and for our children, just as my parents made one for us.