Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

holidays

Saturday Smiles: Home is … edition

Home is where the heart is, so the saying goes.

Home is so much more than that and often leaves me at a loss for words. This week we left the home where we were raised, where our extended family lives and returned to our now home, where our kids have grown up, where one of them was born, where our life and ministry are.

And in between those two places, we find bits of home.

Like with our friends Josh and Rachel and their three girls. Their home is our waystation on our trips from south-central Pennsylvania to Illinois and back. Our kids play together. Our talks last long into the night. And every time we leave, we wish we didn’t have to.

And in Toledo, Ohio, which is a sort of halfway point. When we took the kids there two weeks ago to meet my parents, we stopped at this park. On our way back from Illinois this week, we stopped there again. For lunch. And a hike. To a swinging bridge.

Even though we’d only been there once before, it felt familiar. Like we weren’t exactly nomads or strangers.

Because that’s exactly how I feel right now. Like people without a home. Wanderers. Lost in the wilderness.

But still we get glimpses of “home.”

Like with our friends Paul and Dawn and their girls, who three years ago were unknown to us but now are our closest friends in the area. The kids and I went to their daughter’s birthday party last night and Phil met us there after work. As our kids played together after the party wound down, Dawn and I talked in the kitchen and the men-folk sat outside talking through life. There was something comforting about the whole thing. We’ve journeyed together and are now in the same “what in the world do You have for us God?” boat. And even when it seems like the boat might be sinking, it’s nice to be in it with other people.

And when a friend and mentor at church gifts us with a Book of Common Prayer. Words can’t fully describe how this touches me. I am drawn to the ancient practices of Christianity and knowing that someone recognized this and thought to provide a means to discover those practices more fully is soul-strengthening.

And moments like this.

Watching the fireworks in our hometown with the people we love. This was one of my favorite things about the Fourth of July festival growing up. I’ve been reluctant to take the kids out to a fireworks display because of the late hour and the crowds and such.

But grandparents make these sorts of things much more manageable.

My heart always breaks a little when we leave because I know we miss these sorts of opportunities more than other families. Maybe that just makes them more special.

And this one I throw in just for fun. In the midst of stressful circumstances and not knowing where to go next or when, these kids are a gift. They say  hilarious things and do hilarious things and give us moments of unparalleled joy (between moments of unparalleled frustration).

These are my reasons to smile this week.

“Home is …”

How do you fill in the blank?

 

Love & Marriage: Reflections on five years of both

Saturday marked our five-year anniversary. Not a major milestone as far as milestones are concerned but certainly something to celebrate.

I won’t tell you it’s been easy or perfect or blissful. It’s had its moments of those. It has also been hard, imperfect and disappointing.

And worth it.

It’s a huge act of grace that no one tells you the WHOLE truth about marriage before you get married. I fear no one ever would take the vow if they knew the truth. (Similarly, I’m thankful I never saw a birth video before I was pregnant and enrolled in childbirth classes.) Had I known how ugly, exhausting and challenging marriage could be, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to walk down the aisle. Or maybe I would have been too naive and lovestruck to believe it. (Note to self: I was too naive and lovestruck to believe it.)

Three days after Phil and I wed, we hiked a mountain.

Here we are on day 4 of married life, ready for a hearty breakfast before the descent.

When Phil first suggested this part of the trip — a daylong hike up a mountain to spend the night in a primitive cabin at the top — I didn’t hesitate to say, “Let’s do it.” Bear in mind that we are not now, nor were we then, in peak physical condition. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Looking back, our honeymoon prepared us for the next years of marriage in ways I would have never imagined.

We hiked a physical mountain …

… unaware of the mountains we would face in our marriage in the years to come.

 

We pledged to love each other, whether poor …

(our primitive cabin on the mountaintop)

… or rich

(we visited the Biltmore two days after we’d slept in the woods).

A lesson in contrast not easily forgotten.

We’ve had days when marriage feels like this …

And ones where it feels more like this …

We’ve learned that marriage requires sacrifice …

… sometimes even death (of self, of dreams, of expectations).

And it definitely takes patience, acceptance and love. I mean, those sound like no-brainers. They are easy to agree to. Much harder to live out day to day. Especially with a husband like this.

Truly, he makes the journey fun. (When I let him. I’m way more serious than I need to be.)

Five years of marriage feels a little like the morning we woke up on a mountain.

We were tired and achy from the previous day, but we’d seen some amazing views, breathtaking, really. We’d made some new friends. And it was time to move on. To head back down the mountain, continue our honeymoon and get on with our married life.

After five years of marriage, we know tired. And exhausted. And weary. We know beauty. And take-your-breath-away moments. We’re beat from the battles of two individual lives coming together to make one life yet we’re somehow stronger than we were when we started. We’ve reached a peak. And it’s time to move on.

To celebrate, Phil took me back to the woods for a combined anniversary/birthday/graduation/Mother’s Day present. (Wood is the traditional five-year anniversary gift. Isn’t he clever?)

We hiked again. 

Because we’re gluttons for punishment. And because we can’t help ourselves. I connect best with God in nature and solitude. My husband granted me both as a gift.

We found another mountain, different from the one from our honeymoon but not without its challenges.

The sign told us what to expect. “Very steep” is an accurate description.

We went ahead with it anyway. We could have backtracked and taken an easier path. “We’re not in a backtracking phase of life,” my husband reminded me, and up the mountain we went.

I sense another metaphor for our life and marriage.

I’d like to think that in the last five years, we’ve had all the trouble we’re going to have as a couple and a family. That we packed a lifetime’s worth of trials and tears into a short period so we could enjoy the rest of our married days without the hard stuff.

I’m not as naive as I once was. And I hope that doesn’t sound cynical.

We have a steep road ahead. More than one I’d imagine.

We’re going to sweat. And suffer bruises. (I got one on my hand on our latest hike. I have others on my heart.)

We will ache and hurt and moan and complain. (And NOT take anymore pictures of ourselves while hiking. Egad!)

And we will smile at the memories, even the times of not knowing how or when the hard time would end.

Because in the end, we will have seen something beautiful.

The pain will fade. The hurts will heal, if we let them.

And we will sigh in satisfaction, knowing we did something hard and survived.