1000 Gifts, Vol. 3, #40

391. a week full of blessings
392. a milestone in the life of a teen-aged friend
393. being able to participate in someone's life thousands of miles away, through prayer
394. bright sunshine
395. low humidity
396. the opportunity for a getaway
397. the thoughtfulness of a husband to plan it
398. tomatoes from generous friends' gardens
399. creative ideas for leftovers
400. stimulating books

His and Her

So before we were married, and when we were debating keeping my maiden name for my middle name or not, a friend said, "Think about how it will look on the monograms on towels."

We do not have anything that is monogrammed, unless you want to count the post-it notes I picked up in Michael's dollar bins, and the beautiful note cards a friend gave me for a shower gift.

But we do have his and hers. Oh, they may not say so with a "His" or "Hers" monogram. But we know.

We have "His" flatware and "Her" flatware, "His" drinking glass set and "Her" drinking glass set, "His" tablecloths and "Her" place mats.

"His" mugs got put in the Salvation Army box, "Her" towels made it to the rag box. "His" shower curtain was thrown away, "Her" knives never even stood a chance of making it out of the packing material.

It will take time before "His" address book and "Her" address book are merged, before "His" CD collection and "Her" CD collection become intermingled in the CD storage rack, and before we figure out which of "His" frying pans are being used regularly and which of "Her" frying pans (however did we accumulate five frying pans???) should go to the giveaway pile.

And then we have the non-tangibles. Yes, plenty of those. The seemingly inconsequential "His" and "Her," denoting which flatware he prefers to use, and which glassware she prefers to drink from, but also the bigger non-tangibles.

It is not my place to tell in the public square what exactly those are.

But I recall all those months of wedding planning, and the nightly calls which seemed to be consumed with discussions of decisions regarding the minute details.

I missed our pre-engagement conversations when we just talked and enjoyed talking, but I consoled myself by saying, "We are practicing negotiating skills, and we will need those everyday of our marriage."

Indeed we do.

Now, just how should I set the table for lunch???

Tablecloth or placemats?

Simple glasses or ones with a design?

Sleek silverware or the one with a pattern?

1000 Gifts, Vol. 3, #39

381. the calming music that plays when I read this blog
382. success at the driver's license office
383. without tears
384. a GPS to help me get from point B to point C (when I only know how to get from home to point B and from home to point C)
385. dozens of friends and relatives who warmly congratulated us and welcomed me at our reception
386. the bakery cake (about which I stressed) was delicious!
387. the driver's license (about which I stressed) is in hand
388. the reception (about which I stressed) went well
389. multiple reminders that I do not have an exception clause to the command to be anxious for nothing
390. God's gentleness in reminding me of Truth

One year ago

One year ago today, I took a nap, so this introvert would have energy to meet and interact with a new person.

One year ago today, I sat nervously waiting for the doorbell to ring.

One year ago today, I went to dinner with a man I had never met.

One year ago today, I wondered if I would ever again see this man.

One year ago today, I hoped that I would be able to keep getting to know him.


And now we have set out on a lifelong journey of getting to know each other.

And today friends in his home church who could not travel to Tennessee for the wedding will join us for a celebration, a celebration of God's leading and grace.

1000 Gifts, Vol. 3, #38

371. the multi-faceted blessings of house-sitting on the farm for ten days
372. evening strolls down the lane to bring in the mail
373. a dog eager for the children he protects and plays with to come home from vacation
374. morning birdsongs
375. early morning sun shimmering on wet blacktop
376. a freshly washed barnyard
377. cool morning air after a night's rain
378. the respite from the heat
379. an entire sky filled with storm clouds
380. the collective rushing to close house and truck windows and cover items with tarp during a sudden downpour

On Boxes and Memories

I just emptied a box. Not an unusual statement seeing how I am unpacking after a move. I have emptied dozens of boxes this week.

But this is no ordinary box. An MK in college spent last summer with his family in Japan, and, as we are wont to do, instead of packing in a suitcase, he packed in a U-haul box for his transpacific flight.

I was preparing for a year in the States, so was on the lookout for packing boxes. He gladly offered his, which I promptly filled with 50 pounds of my belongings, and then passed on to a lady who was in Japan for a 10-day mission trip. She took it back to Texas with her on the plane, as part of her luggage, and from Texas shipped it to my parents' house.

When I arrived at my HMA apartment, I unpacked the box, and carefully cut the tape and folded it up and stood it up in the back of my closet, so it would be ready to tape up and fill up for my return to Japan a year later.

Alas, a year later, I taped it up and filled it up, and the Buttram Movers loaded it up in Uncle C's truck and took it to its 3-week storage location (an empty rental house of Uncle C's). Then, after the honeymoon, Buttram Movers helped Jim load it up in our vehicle for the trip to the Midwest.

And now it is empty.

But I cannot stand the thought of carelessly setting it out by the curb for garbage pickup (which is a whole separate post -- garbage pickup in non-apartment living in America!).

This box not only held an MK's belongings for a summer trip home and my belongings for HMA and the items of my closet for the next move, but this box holds memories ... of people ... and places ... and a different life.

But now my life is here ... where we dispose of boxes and don't fold them carefully and stand them up in the back of our closets, awaiting our next transoceanic flight.

Will I ever get used to this feeling of putting down roots and being settled?

1000 Gifts, Vol. 3, #37

361. time to rest, be, and slowly give myself time to adjust
362. a cornfield gently blowing in the breeze, right outside my kitchen window
363. more mice caught than seen running free!
364. order coming out of chaos
365. the welcome of a new church family
366. abundance
367. reminders (from many places & people & mostly the Spirit) of the importance of that which moths and rust will not destroy
368. gaining not just a husband but some precious nieces who live nearby
369. sunsets when the horizon is 360*
370. a childhood which prepared me for barnyard smells

One week of real life ~ post-wedding, post-honeymoon

I don't intend to give up blogging, but my life here in flyover country (not to mention my married life) feels very far removed from everything I know, and I am processing a lot.

Since arriving home a week ago, I have:

* been to the post office to show some ID so that my mail will be delivered to our post office box,

* been to Wal-mart, where I spent two hours trying to figure out the layout of the store,

* found an old, small, downtown Kroger using googlemaps,

* continued to hear from people who tell me with deep appreciation, "Jim raised my children in youth group,"

* been at times overwhelmed with the task of cleaning, unpacking and organizing, and at times going full-speed ahead with the task,

* rested from the full-speed ahead times,

* enjoyed some precious interactions with three precious nieces who live nearby,

* tried to figure out how to avoid the catch-22 of changing my name on my ID (in order to change it one place I need the updated ID from another place, and vice versa),

* begun planning a reception (researching ordering a cake, etc.),

* had a few moments of reverse culture shock (more to come on that later),

* and, for all practical purposes, moved out to the farm to pig-sit (well, to tell the truth, for Jim to pig-sit) while others are on vacation.

Marking time by seven Saturdays, #6

(posted August 13th, as if I were writing it August 7th)

Today I am continuing to unpack (in our new home in the Midwest).

Last Saturday I was packing (at my parents' home in Tennessee).

Two Saturdays ago, I was enjoying the splurge meal of our honeymoon.

Three Saturdays ago, was the WEDDING!

Four Saturdays ago, we celebrated my younger niece's birthday!

Five Saturdays ago, Jim came to visit and we celebrated the 4th of July with friends.

Six Saturdays ago, a dozen relatives I had not seen in decades stopped by, and my parents and I attended a patriotic concert with two of their great-nephews.

Six Saturdays from now, I have no idea what I will be doing!


So teach me to number my days
that I may get a heart of wisdom.
Satisfy me in the morning with your steadfast love,
that I may rejoice and be glad all my days.
Let the favor of the Lord my God be upon me,
and establish the work of my hands upon me;
yes, establish the work of my hands!

(adapted from Psalm 90.12-17)


Marking time by seven Saturdays
Marking time by seven Saturdays, #2
Marking time by seven Saturdays, #3
Marking time by seven Saturdays, #4
Marking time by seven Saturdays, #5

A thousand people

Three months ago I visited co-workers who are beginning a new life downtown Tokyo. 1,000 people live in their building.

Now I am beginning my new life in a small midwestern town. 1,000 people live in the town.

It would take 16 towns of this size to find one church in Japan. Instead this town has five churches (81 times higher ratio of churches per population).

Tokyo has a slightly better ratio of churches per population. This town's ratio is only 63 times higher than that of Tokyo.