Lesson #60: Who's More Important?

Today is our four-year anniversary, and nothing is the same.  We’ve gone through seven different jobs, found a church home, graduated from one college, started another college, totaled one car, purchased another car, moved to another apartment, and have been blessed with a tiny human who has yet to make her grand entrance.  All of this has happened since February 21, 2013, but none of these changes are as big as the changes that have taken place in our relationship.  I’ll leave it up to Lyndon to share his journey in our marriage.  I’ve learned oodles of things, but one stands above the rest.

My beauty and my worth are found in my Creator, not my husband.

I was raised in a Christian environment, so from an early age I was taught to find my beauty in God and not in man.  This was preached to me countless times, but it went through one ear and out the other.  I am fully aware that I could have taken matters into my own hands and figured it out on my own.  Looking back though, I desperately wish someone would have taken “impressionable me” and shown me how to find my beauty in Him.  Because I didn't have this foundation, I relied on others to reinforce my twisted idea of beauty.  I needed someone to tell me I was pretty even when I had zits all over my face (even though I wouldn't believe what he/she said anyway).  I would be genuinely upset if no one commented on my appearance after I had meticulously picked everything out and gotten ready.  I felt incredibly judged by everyone who laid eyes on me if my hair wasn't “just right.”  I had been sucked into this endless need for others to validate my beauty and my worth.

Lyndon didn't know me during my awkward years but still got my less awkward years.  He found me, flaws and all, to be beautiful, which I thought was completely unfathomable.  Instead of this reassurance building me up, it only served to pull me down deeper.  There he was, the answer to all of my problems.  If I ever felt down about my appearance or worth, I turned to him for a compliment to keep my head up until I needed him again.  I relied on him for everything, one hundred percent.

About a year before all hell broke loose in our marriage, I began to realize what I had done to our relationship.  My pregnant brain can’t think of the right term other than the “jaws of life,” so it took the “jaws of life” to get me to write it down.  I was terrified of losing him because I knew I relied on him for everything in my life.  If I lost him, would I still know I was taken care of because my God has told me He would do just that?  It took even more out of me to realize that the answer to that question was a resounding “no.”  Lyndon came before God, and I had not only let this happen but encouraged it.

Then that fateful day happened.  The man I relied on to validate my worth confessed to a number of unimaginable, horrific things.  This news would have knocked anyone down, but because I needed him to feel good about myself, my reaction was even more tumultuous.

I was worthless.

I gave my heart to him, and he stomped on it before throwing it in the trash.  Everything good that I felt about myself was founded in him, so what was left to value?  I stopped looking in mirrors because how I looked didn't matter: he had cheated on me.  I wasn't important to him, so why would I be important to anyone else?  He had ruined me, and I had let him.

The days that have followed have not been easy.  This was clearly the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I knew I couldn't return to my previous behavior.  I was forced to finally figure out how to find my worth in my Creator and not in the man I married.  Not only was I forced to change but I refused to let this happen again.  He might have been the one who cheated, but I was the one who gave him the burden of my beauty and worth.  Things would have been much different had I not allowed that to happen in the first place.

And so I started a process that I have yet to finish: finding my beauty in my Creator and not my husband.  It took a long time to stop being angry at God.  Why had He sat by and let Lyndon do this to me?  If He loved me, why did He let someone hurt me so deeply?  Where was He in all of this?  I didn't want to work on my relationship with Him because both He and Lyndon had deserted me.  A lot of angry prayers and tears later, and I finally understood: all of this had to happen.  I had become so reliant on Lyndon that He had to show me what happens when I put him before Him.  He knew it was going to hurt me, but I had repeatedly refused to choose Him over Lyndon.  The first big step towards healing that He showed me was finding a book many people have heard of and read, a book called Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge.  I have to be honest and say that I still haven’t finished it yet, but that’s simply because the words have been so profound and life-changing.

“He made you you—on purpose. You are the only you—ever. Becoming ourselves means we are actively cooperating with God's intention for our lives, not fighting him or ourselves. He looks at us with pleasure and with mercy, and he wants us to look at ourselves with pleasure and mercy too!”

“God not only accepts us, he embraces us.” 

“Jesus weeps for you and with you, longs for you, hopes for you, dreams of you, and rejoices over you with singing. He is the One who has battled all the forces of hell to free you and who battles still.” 

“And in this beautiful, heartbreaking world, God—the eternal, omniscient, amazing One—loves human beings. Including you. Especially you.  You are amazing.” 

I could quote the entire book; that’s how impactful it has been on my life.  That sounds a bit illegal though, so I’ll refrain.

God is bigger, more powerful, and more beautiful than I could ever imagine, and He delights in me.  He delighted in the women of the Bible and used them for incredible things.  He wants to do the same thing with me.  Why would I need to seek worth from man when He found me beautiful before I was even born?  Admittedly, this is still a process.  My self-esteem remains shaky, but I’m learning to plant its roots in Him and not in Lyndon.  It’s a burden my dear husband was never meant to carry.  I want him to find me beautiful but only because he sees my beauty through God’s eyes.  I want him to find me worthy not because he has deemed it so but because I’m so precious to God.

Despite the deep pain that is still healing, I'm actually thankful that all of this happened.  Our marriage is no longer a lie.  We're more honest and open with each other than ever before.  We're still working on it, but we don't rely on each other when we should be leaning on Him.  Our marriage is slowly changing focus from inward to upward.  I shudder to think of what we would be bringing our daughter into had none of this happened.

Matters have been complicated by this whole pregnancy thing.  It’s changed my hair into an even hotter mess.  Stretch marks are a very real thing.  My calves barely taper off to form ankles.  I wear the same things every week because those are all that fit me.  I look a little different.  It’s been hard work, keeping myself in the right frame of mind.  Lyndon can attest to the fact that I've not always been able to do that.  He’s had to gently remind me that while I don’t look the same, what is happening to me is still a beautiful thing and completely worth it.  A few tears and a few deep breaths later, I’m fine because I don’t hold my earthly beauty as highly as I used to hold it.  This little girl has already changed everything, and I know there are more changes to come.  We’re going to have to learn a lot about being parents, and we’re going to have to teach her many things.  One lesson I refuse to let slip by is how deeply she is valued by the One who made her.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” – Psalm 139:14

Lesson #59: Moving Forward Hurts

It's not all that surprising that I haven't written anything in these past few months.  Honestly, I never was quite good at keeping up with this blog anyway.  In light of this year's events, however, I had wanted to change that.  I suppose I was hoping to track our days, remind myself of good things, maybe help someone else who finds herself in this position.  I sat in front of this screen on many occasions, ready to write something.  Anything.  When it came down to it, the words never came.  The hurt runs deep, and I couldn't figure out how to express that to you properly.  You see, the pain is the same.  Who wants to read that over and over again?  I even had to stop writing for myself because I had run out of ways to say that I'm not okay.

Days have gotten better, don't get me wrong.  Lyndon continues to love me, and we continue to mend our relationship.  I can confidently say that there are now days when I don't think about it at all.  It used to consume my every thought, my every second.  At least I've moved on from that.

There are other days though.  Days when my self esteem is low and one reminder keeps me from looking in any mirrors.  Days when my inability to trust him gets the better of me.  Days when merely seeing something sparks a memory that sends me stumbling down the same dark path I've walked many times.

I intended for this blog to be a fun way to let you all in on our first few years of marriage.  I had wanted to start sharing silly things like recipes and my DIY disasters.  I'd even considered the possibility of sharing our lives when children came onto the scene.  Having a blog like that, even though there are millions that are exactly the same, was something that excited me.

But everything has changed.  I've experienced hurt like I never have before.  I was so looking forward to healing and moving on from all of this.  I never knew healing would hurt this much.

Lesson #58: A Commitment is a Commitment is a Commitment

I'm not even sure where to begin.  If The Sound of Music has taught me anything, it's that the beginning is a very good place to start, so I'll start there.  Be warned, this is a long post.


On Thursday, February 21st, I was fully enjoying Snowpocalypse, 2013.  I was able to come home early from work, was guaranteed a snow day the next day, and was ready to waste some time doing nothing.  I was hanging out with the dog when Lyndon walked over and sat by me.  The first words out of his mouth were, "I'm being blackmailed."  Honestly, I thought he was joking about something light-hearted when he said that.  He went on and told me that he had exposed himself to someone during a video chat.  That woman recorded it and was now asking for $300.  If Lyndon didn't comply, she'd send the video to all of his Facebook friends.  He couldn't handle dealing with it on his own anymore, so he decided to confess and ask for help.


I could barely breathe.  My body and my mind felt like they were shutting down because turning off was better than dealing with what I'd just been told.  Tears started and didn't stop for hours as darkness invaded all of me.  I vehemently refused to help him out of the situation because he was the one who'd made the mistake in the first place.  That's not exactly what I said.  It was more of a garbled mumbling because I couldn't talk over the crying.


Lyndon left for work, and what little resolve I had to keep myself together, vanished.  I desperately wanted to leave my apartment behind, but Snowpocalypse was falling all around me.  It took me all of five minutes to realize that it was too dangerous for me to be by myself, so I called the first person I wanted to talk to: my mom.  She was patient as I tried to form words and recount what had just happened.  She calmly told me to pack up what I needed while I waited for her and my dad to come get me.


I spent the next five days at my parents' house, avoiding contact with as many people as possible.  Both my sisters and my parents did an incredible job at not asking questions.  They listened when I talked, but apart from that, they spent their time keeping my head above water.  I will never be able to thank them enough for the crucial roles they played in those few days.


Lyndon and I continued to talk over these five days, and he confessed to much more.  Porn had entered his life at the tender age of 12, and by the time he met me, he was too far gone to stop.  He continued on that path after we were married.  He also told me about another woman.  Every confession, every single thing he told me threw me deeper into despair and a darkness that was present in every minute of every day.


That following Tuesday, I had planned to stop at our apartment while he was gone to pick up a few things.  I sat down on the couch for a minute and felt overcome by the Holy Spirit. I was being told that I could not get off the couch until I agreed to stay and wait for Lyndon.  I cried and cried, asking to just be released because I couldn't handle seeing him.  God waited.  When I finally said I would wait for him, I was able to get off the couch.


Tuesday the 26th also happened to be Lyndon's birthday, and he had gotten to the point of suicidal thoughts over what he'd done.  He knew I was waiting for him at home, so he sat in his car for at least a half hour after arriving.  Not knowing whether I would actually talk to him or if I would leave again, he couldn't bring himself to come inside.  Without realizing what was happening, however, God carried him in to me.  After a lot of tears and hours of talking, I decided to move back home that night.  It was absolutely divine intervention that brought us together that day, and it terrifies me to think of what state we'd be in had neither of us let God take control.


Since that fateful Thursday, there have been immediate changes.  Lyndon has been transferred to a store that's much closer and now works hours that coincide with mine.  He purchased encouraging music to listen to and books that he's started reading.  He has found someone to meet with and talk to.  We have a program set up on his computer that informs me and three others when inappropriate sites are visited.  We've started a Bible study together.  His attitude towards me has done a 180, and the way we interact with each other is completely different.


There are good days.  There are bad days.  There are good parts of days, and there are bad parts of days.  We're facing each of those days together.


I am still hurt.

I am still broken.

I am still unable to forgive him.

I am still in love with him.


The day after he first told me, I took off my wedding ring to shower.  When it came time to put it back on, I couldn't do it.  It felt like he didn't mean anything he said the day he gave me that ring.  I've since put it back on.  I still don't know what to think about our wedding day and what he said, but I know I meant every word.  After all, a commitment is a commitment is a commitment.

Lesson #57: A Strong Husband is Pretty Handy

Here's my Sunday morning schedule:

-Wake up before the butt crack of dawn
-Try and get dressed and ready with little light while praying I don't wake Lyndon up
-Inevitably wake Lyndon up
-Scarf down some cereal
-Head down to Bellevue University at 6:30 for church set up, rehearsal, and service
-Tear down everything that was set up a few hours before
-Go home
-Try and recover

For some reason, I thought adding more to my morning and waking up even earlier would be a great idea.  I decided to wake up with enough time to make coffee cake for me, my fellow Christ Community friends who had to be there just as early, and the husband.  I was up at 4:30, mixing ingredients in my beautiful KitchenAid, trying to fully open my eyes.  We all know how far I've come with this coffee cake recipe, so I wasn't expecting any difficulties despite the early time.

The coffee cake was successfully in the oven.  I could almost feel myself wrapped back up in my covers, ready to drift off for a cat nap before officially having to wake up.  I was so close, and then I discovered I couldn't get the flat beater off the mixer.  No matter how hard I tried, that beater was convinced it needed to stay on.  Thinking it was because I'm really bad at thoroughly cleaning, my attempts became more feeble as I assumed the mixture had dried around it.  I fought for as long as my tired self would let me, but I eventually gave up and crawled back into bed.

Right before I left, I decided to try another plan of attack:

It reads: HELP!  I'm stuck and need a big, strong man to save me!

He's opened plenty of jars for me in the past, so I figured he'd help me without a problem.  I was right.  I was really right.  He sent me a text during rehearsal telling me that it wasn't stuck in the first place.  My 4:30 brain was convinced otherwise.  It's just proof that I should never wake up that early in order to be nice to others ever again.

I need to take a nap.  But before I do that, I'm going to finish eating this potato salad and watching Hot Rod.  Good grief.

Lesson #56: I'm Still Adjusting

I've hinted at it before, so allow me to definitively state the following: housework and I are not friends.

Unless the dog hair becomes so much that I'm grossed out enough to clean or we have company coming over, I'd rather wallow in "filth."  I don't mean rats running around our rotting food on the floor, but I do mean clean and unfolded laundry sitting in its basket for a week.  I mean dirty dishes piling up because I don't want to unload the clean dishes from the dishwasher.  You know, that kind of "filth."  I will say that I ironed a pair of pants and a shirt for Lyndon this morning, but that was only because he had an evaluation at work today.

I desire to fill my free time with things like Skyrim and Doctor Who.  If I'm cleaning, I can't fully enjoy those things.  Therefore, cleaning makes little sense to me.

The realization is finally hitting me: cleaning is never going to stop.  There's always going to be something that I have to do.  No matter how modern society attempts to be, we have an unspoken understanding that I'm mainly in charge of cleaning and he's mainly in charge of bringing home the bacon.  He's always taken full responsibility for that duty, yet I'm a total slacker.  My duties are so much easier compared to him, but I'm the one who lays about procrastinating.

I still need to vacuum, but I did pause Doctor Who to put some week-old basket laundry away.
Progress.

On an unrelated note, this company thought we were dumb enough to buy things from their catalogue for Nala, so they sent us a copy.

If I don't get to order whatever I want from the Anthropologie catalogue, she doesn't get whatever she wants from here (which I'm sure is the dog equivalent of Anthropologie...or something).  Petco is just fine for her fancy butt.

Lesson #55: Sometimes You Need to go Because He Needs You to go

Let me start out by saying this: we have zero luck with cars.  We've only been married for a little over two years, yet we're already out looking for our fourth car.  We're really good at being really bad with cars.  I don't know what it is about the two of us combined, but it's not fun.  The plan for today was to look at a car here in Omaha and then head to Lincoln to look at another car.  Up until last night, that plan didn't include me.  When Lyndon realized I was working in the late afternoon/evening, he asked me to tag along.

I hate looking at cars.  The only thing I have an eye for is whether or not the A/C and heat work, if there's a way for me to play my music, and how bad the interior of the car smells.  Those seem to be my specialties, so Lyndon graciously takes care of the rest.  While he's getting into the nitty-gritty of the car with the owner, I'm twiddling my thumbs.  The worst part is that the car we're currently on the hunt for is supposed to be for me.  I'm supposed to care about what car I drive, but I don't know anything about them; therefore, I rarely care or have an opinion.  I am useless.  Lyndon is not a fan of this.

The 2001 Elantra in town was decent, but we still wanted to look at the 2003 in Lincoln.  After driving for 45 minutes, we finally got there and started going about our car inspection.  It took us a while to notice, but we eventually realized that we hadn't been bombarded by a salesman.  That is absolutely not normal for a dealership.  We then found out that we hadn't been attacked because no one was there.  They were supposed to have been open an hour (agoio90-=plp[;,,,,,,,,,, c-that was Nala thinking she was helping with this post) ago, yet no one was in the offices.  Lyndon had even been in contact with them, giving them the time that we would be there.  We called and were told that it would be another 20-30 minutes until someone showed up.  We had already been there for an hour.

We decided to try another place we had passed in the hopes that this trip would not be a total disaster.  After walking around for five minutes, looking at cars, Lyndon decided to leave.  The problem with this place wasn't that no one was around.  The problem was that the people there neither noticed him nor said a word to him.

To sum up: we did not buy a car in Lincoln today.

Our moods were much improved when we made an impromptu stop at a roadside antiques shop.  For real.  That's our thing.

On the way home, Lyndon told me he was glad I was there with him.  He had never wanted to make the trip alone.  Looking at/buying cars is a stressful time.  He said he would have been furious otherwise.  So maybe I'm not as useless when it comes to buying cars as I thought.  It must have been my comic relief.

Lesson #54: Marriage to a Restaurant Employee is Advantageous

Lyndon works hard to provide and protect.  He serves his country, and he serves you your food.  Being a shift supervisor at a restaurant is a demanding job, and Lyndon is no slacker.  His hours are awful, so we rarely see each other and usually eat dinner after nine.  As a couple, we're never able to go out with others because of his work schedule.  Working 12-hour shifts takes a lot out of him so our evenings stay very low-key.  Suffice it to say that he's exploring other options outside of this field of work.

In the meantime, however, we're stuck with the previously mentioned schedule.  It's either been that or some sort of variation, so it's nothing we aren't used to experiencing.  Supervising simply seems to be more exhausting than serving/bar tending.  I have a tired husband.

All of that majorly stinks, but we got to experience one of the upsides to his job tonight.  His restaurant has a "to go" option for people to use to order food so they can drop by, pay, and leave with their meals.  I learned tonight that when people fail to show up the food is usually thrown away.  If there happens to be a smart shift supervisor on duty, part of the booty is given to a server while he takes home the rest of the spoils.  And that resulted in...

FREE DINNER!

"'It's fo' free!' so I was like, 'Sure.'"

Food that would have otherwise been thrown away was instead chosen to grace our table.  And by table, I mean our coffee table because we sit and watch shows like Cake Boss while we eat.  I don't know whether to take this as a blessing from God or a sign from God that even He was ashamed of my subpar grocery list yesterday.

"So what's the lesson?" you might ask.  Truth is, I'm not really sure.  Marry someone in the business of food?  Don't throw away food that's still good?  Realize God's blessings in little things?  Make a good grocery list?  You decide.

Lesson #53: You Never Stop Buying Groceries

Days like today are when I wish I was super rich and could have my private, gourmet chef take care of anything.  Okay, most days are like that.  Today is particularly leaning towards that view, however.  I just got home from work and had to make a grocery list.  I then get to go buy groceries, come home, put them away, eat something, and go to rehearsal.

This is seriously the billionth time I've gone grocery shopping since getting married.  That might be a stretch, but I doubt it.  I either run out of money or I run out of ideas for meals.  And while I sit here listening to songs for rehearsal tonight, I'm drawing a blank.  I can't go out and buy ingredients and throw things together.  My brain doesn't work like that.  Never has, never will.  I have to have a solid list in which items are put under the meal they'll be used for.  My brain is a nightmare.

Since I seem to be more focused on listening to this music, my list has taken a turn for the worse:

alfredo

pasta

chicken

milk

string cheese

fruit

red pepper flakes

vanilla

Italian seasoning

tomato soup

Hamburger Helper

ground beef

cheddarwurst

shredded cheese

chips

What.on.earth.  Whatever.  I'm going grocery shopping.

Hello, end of the month.  You're a jerk.

Lesson #52: Man's Best Friend is High Maintenance

It has long been a dream of ours to own a dog.  Considering both of us are vehemently opposed to cats (no offense, cat folk), it only made sense that we would get a dog as soon as we could.  That "soon as we could" finally came around after almost two years of marriage.  Living in an apartment that doesn't allow dogs kind of puts a damper on dog plans.  Plus, I figured I would start out with plants.  We kept (most of) those alive, so it was time to upgrade to a pet.  After a while, if she's still alive and well, we'll be able to upgrade again to kids.  It's a process.

So in March we met her...

in April we got her...

and in August we still love her.

Nala is almost six months old and has been hilarious to watch.  Shiba inus are notoriously distant and anti-social, yet she is the exact opposite of that.  Nala thinks every person she sees is a new best friend.  Every knock on a door in our hallway must be meant for her.  She loves people so much that she whines out of excitement when she meets someone.  Good thing we weren't banking on a guard dog.

Through the cost of shots, food, vet visits, treats, toys (that keep mysteriously showing up when I come home from work and Lyndon has a day off), and surprise health issues, we've realized how expensive dogs can be.  We did our research beforehand and calculated the costs, but it was still a nice surprise as to how big that cost would be.  So far, it's been worth it.  The only time I get worried is when Lyndon is convinced she needs a friend to play with.

Prepare for more posts about Nala because she's who I spend most of my time with.  Until that happens, here's a picture of her eating a clementine for the first time.

Lesson #51: Beautiful Quilts Belong on a Wall

Beautiful objects passed from family member to family member warm my heart.  I love seeing things that people were given or inherited from older family members.  That's what I want to use to fill my house-things that remind us of those we love.  I'm already excited to pass on some of the things we own to future kids!

When Lyndon was younger, he was given a gorgeous quilt made by his great-grandmother (in-loves, correct me if I'm wrong).

By the way, my lovely in-loves, I don't know the story behind this quilt.  I would love to hear it the next time we get to see you!

I'd always wanted to put it up but never got around to it.  As a newlywed who finally got to decorate an apartment, I just kind of put things up without thinking.  When we moved, however, I was determined to not make that mistake again.  This time, that quilt was going up.  With very little money to make this happen, we settled with a giant dowel and some screws.

Isn't it wonderful?  Wait, scratch that.  I only care about your opinion if you like it.  I demand to be coddled when it comes to my decorating taste/choices/skills.

The quilt is very old, needs some mending, needs to be cleaned somehow, and should be better displayed.  I feel like I'm not doing it justice the way it is.  If you happen to have any tried-and-true advice on any of these matters, I would love to hear it.

Good thing it's still pretty despite its owners' lack of quilt knowledge.

Lesson #50: In the End, We Were Married

Every once in a while, I think to myself, I want to get married again...my wedding was boring compared to this...if I could do it all again it would be completely different, etc.  The high ranking of Pinterest in my "Top Sites" has been followed by the nagging thoughts that my wedding could have been more beautiful, more detailed, more extravagant.  I see stunning dresses, creative elements, and beautiful brides and wonder why I couldn't have done/had all of those things.  While most Pinterest users are dreaming about what "might be" when it comes to their weddings, I dream about what "could have been."   I know all that I would change about our wedding if you asked me.

These thoughts bug me for a while, but then I remember how wonderful our wedding was.  I remember how he looked when the doors to the sanctuary first opened.  I remember how much I loved being surrounded by those I loved.  I remember his surprise dip for our first kiss as husband and wife.  I remember that we talked about his truck breaking down that day and his subsequent sunburn during the unity candle instead of talking about romantic things.  I remember the beautiful music, having a great time with my mom while we planned, the delicious cupcakes, the bachelorette party gone-almost-wrong, the fun I had during the week of, and so much more.  My wedding was a dream, minus a few details.

I was blessed to have the wedding I did.  It was beautifully God-filled.  As if that wasn't enough, my parents didn't go into debt for it.  Considering the average wedding costs around $27,800 (http://wedding.theknot.com/wedding-planning/wedding-budget/qa/what-does-the-average-wedding-cost.aspx) and ours was right around $5,000, I'd say we made the right choice.

I'll continue to be plagued by thoughts of my "could have been" wedding.  It's not that hard to remind myself that in the end, I got to marry Lyndon.

That sounds like a successful wedding to me.

Lesson #49: God can Change Your Heart for Anything

We're still alive!  It's been forever since I've posted, I know.  Cut me some slack.  I went to Italy then immediately picked up our dog then immediately moved then unpacked all by myself then started an internship then went on a two week tour then came home to an internship.  Things have been a little crazy, to say the least.  I'll catch myself up by posting about each of those things.  For now, here's Italy:

A view of Rome from the "Wedding Cake" (Altare della Patria)

Venice (from the Rialto Bridge)-I totally got lost here.

Every year, Nebraska Christian College shuts down for a week in the spring, and every single person goes on a missions trip of some kind.  People spread out all over: California, Montana, Utah, Omaha, Texas, Honduras, Haiti, Trinidad, China, Italy, and plenty more over the years.  Our Italy trip was about so much more than sight seeing and singing every once in a while.  We were there for God.  Italy is a country filled with corruption, hopelessness, and emptiness.  Having faith and going to church is a tradition that you "just do."  We went to show them that there's something more, that God is so much more.  It was incredible to see that play out.  We got to do things like sing for mass in ancient, beautiful cathedrals (including the Vatican).  We met with a convent of women who never speak, and we got to sing with them.  We sang at a rest home in Cividale.  We got to sing to our elderly waitress in Marano Lagunare.  We ate with the Alpini and the community choir in Codroipo.  I got to see beautiful pieces of art and sculpting and architecture that I've only ever seen pictures of my whole life.  I can't begin to explain to you how incredibly beautiful that trip was.  

A view of Vicenza from Monte Berico

Cividale from the New Devil's Bridge

One of our days was spent in the town of Trieste, and that day forever changed me.  We went to a tiny evangelical church called Il Faro (http://www.facebook.com/pages/Chiesa-Cristiana-Evangelica-Il-Faro-di-Trieste/218853878176637) that had been started by some missionaries.  Before we sang for them, one of the missionaries talked to us about the town.  He told us that only .02% of Trieste's population believes.  At that moment, God changed my heart.  I believe that He'd been working up to that moment my entire life (my love for history, Italian artists, the language, and so much more), and that moment has changed me forever.  I originally wanted to go on the trip because I'd always wanted to go to Italy.  Why not serve God at the same time?  God used that love for Italy in an incredible way.  As we sang that night, it became evidently clear that this was not my last time serving God in Italy.  I'm not saying the heavens opened up, the clouds separated, and the angels sang to signal me.  I'm saying that I've never been more confident about something in my entire life.

I have no idea what that confidence will turn into.  I might get to go on another trip similar to that one, I might spend the rest of my life there.  Who knows?  When I got home, I wasn't sure what I was going to say to Lyndon.  How do you say, "By the way, you might be living in Italy at some point in your life.  Hope that's okay!" without causing an uproar?  The day after I got back, as we sat in a Denny's in St. Louis with his parents, I quietly brought up the experience I'd had that night in Trieste.  It was met with silence.

He has yet to say much about it.  He doesn't say anything as I decorate our apartment with things I got from Italy.  He never said too much when I told other people about that night.  I don't know if he's not sure what to think of it or doesn't want to hurt my feelings by what he thinks of it.  Either way, I'm glad he hasn't said much.  Even though he hasn't completely supported it, he hasn't completely shut it down, and for that, I am grateful.  I don't plan on bringing it up in the future.  I'm the one with the heart for Italy.  If serving God in Italy is in our future, I need to let God work in Lyndon's heart first.  So if you don't hear me talking about this subject, don't think I've stopped caring.  I'm practically bursting at the seams with excitement every time I even think about it.  I'm just waiting for my husband.

Lesson #48: Who Needs Space?

We've done it.

We finally, officially found our future residence.

Spoiled by our current apartment, we thought we could afford the same luxury of space that we've been enjoying for the past two years.  We found a place that was only slightly smaller than our apartment now, and we applied.  After being approved and then budgeting, we realized how silly of a choice that was.

As was previously posted, we decided to start the apartment hunting process all over again.  This time, looking for a more appropriate one bedroom apartment, we ended up at a complex today.  We were worried because although we could certainly afford it, it is almost exactly half the size of our current apartment.  Yikes.  I kept encouraging myself with the thought, "Who needs space to move in an apartment anyway?"

But how pleasantly surprised we were!  Incredibly affordable, plenty of storage, and cheap pet rent.  The rent total is so inexpensive that we'll be able to swing a garage for all of our extra stuff.  They even have garages available now, which is the first time that has happened in our search.

We even lucked out with the same great deal that we had at the original apartment we applied for.  We'll be getting fifty dollars off our rent every month for our year lease.  I'm sure that doesn't sound like much to a lot of people, but that means the world to us.

I'm beginning to get involved in pre-internship things.  I sent out a resume for another job.  Lyndon is looking for a second job.  We found an apartment that we can actually afford.  We get our puppy (officially named Nala) in two weeks.  Lyndon takes his soldier to regionals (go Block!) next week.  I leave for Italy in less than a week.  The spring game/Jacoby family time is this weekend.

Things are looking up.  We just might survive these next seven months of my internship.

Lesson #47: Penny pinching power

It's time.


We've crunched the numbers, and it's time.


Frivolous spenders, we will be no more!


Not that we were frivolous spenders, but the little frivolity we had has now vanished.  I have an internship, he has a job, we bought a dog, and we have our next apartment, but we're not sure how all of this is going to work out financially.  As I've said in previous posts, we're getting ready to dive into the world of grown-ups.


We're cutting as much out of other funds as possible to make sure there's food on the table, even if it ends up being ramen noodles every night.  Lyndon won't be able to be as involved on the paintball team as much as we had hoped.  The envelope for "homey" things will remain empty and dry for the next several months.


Money problems have always scared me.  Finances when I was younger were never secure, so I was always scared, always worried that there would be enough every month.  Getting married offered me a breath of fresh air.  I thought I would never be scared when it came to money situations again.  We thought we had our lives for the next few years figured out.  We weren't holding too high of expectations to realistically stick to; instead, we had a logical and realistic view on what our financial situation would be like.


It turned out that even that view was a little high-reaching.  Our plans have been postponed for various reasons, and that has hurt us.  We have some interesting months to look forward to in the all-too-near future.


Time to re-focus that trusting in God thing.

Lesson #46: No husband=No sleep

Distance might make the heart grow fonder, but it's keeping me from getting some shut-eye.


The husband and I are used to being apart.  A great deal of our dating relationship and engagement was spent long distance, and there have been multiple weeks of our marriage when we're off doing different things.  Not being together is old hat for us, but things have not been so smooth as of late.


Wednesday the 21st through Sunday the 25th was my gospel choir's tour.  We were out traveling the Midwest, singing about Jesus while Lyndon stayed at home.  It was a rough week for both of us and for different reasons.  I was struggling with emotional family stuff, and Lyndon was having a horrible time trying to sleep without me.  Luckily, I stayed in host homes and shared a bed with fellow choir gals every night.  Poor Lyndon had to sleep all alone.  Restless night after restless night made for one exhausted husband when I got back on Sunday.


I then ignored my homework in order to spend time with him.  I find reasons to push homework aside many times (like right now, for instance), but this reason was legitimate.  I had just gotten back, and he was leaving the next day for military things.


He's now off doing some military thing or other, and I'm the one stuck at home.  Last night, I think I got four hours of sleep.  That could be an exaggeration, but I really don't think it is.  The problem is that I can find plenty of things to keep myself busy during the day, but when I'm trying to go to bed all I can think about is the lack of husband sleeping next to me.  His physical presence is something that I've so gotten used to that not having him next to me is keeping me awake past all hours of reason.


Realizing this has brought me to two more realizations:
1. I'm grateful every single day that I have a husband who I get to sleep next to at night (usually).  Those who have lost spouses or have spouses overseas have incredible courage and strength.
2. I might need to invest in melatonin or something.


Apartment update!
We found a place!  It meets all of our specifications and should be affordable, too.  We're currently waiting to be approved, so we'll have to wait and see.
I've started collecting boxes, and Lyndon is looking for dogs.  Let's hope this works out.