an ode to my husband

I've often told my husband he's my hero. Like the knight who swoops in and lifts his lady off the ground in a rush of surprise, wonder and excitement, so he did with me over three years ago when we met. I didn't expect him, but there he was. Chock full of all that goodness and love and faithfulness I've come to admire so much.

Heroes are usually the guys that rescue cats from tall trees or run into the middle of oncoming traffic to save a little girl from being hit by a car. They're the people that do these extreme, life-saving (and life-giving) things. They're remembered for all of time because they leave a legacy of self-sacrifice, bravery and a commitment to others. Who's to say, though, that these acts of selflessness have to be so dramatic, so grandiose?

Everyday, I get to wake up next to a man who works hard to provide for our little family. He packs me a lunch for work, making sure to ask me if today's a fruit bar or granola bar day. He humours me when I text him while he's working, sometimes even sending me cute little self-portraits so I remember how much I'm loved. He brings me dinner when I'm at work and sits with me while I complain about crazy hotel guests. He listens to my rants, my dreams, my concerns, my hopes for the future. He makes sure he's on the edge of the sidewalk closest to traffic when we're taking a walk. He massages my neck when I'm sore, even though I know it's not one of his favourite things to do. He changes the duvet cover because it frustrates me to do it myself, and makes us both laugh from our bellies when he grabs me and traps me inside of it. When I'm sick, he takes good care of me. When I'm sad, he lets me cry all over his shirt, and when I laugh, he's right there cracking up with me (and, let's be honest, sometimes at me). He believes in me, sometimes even more than I believe in myself, and he loves me in spite of my weaknesses. He accepts who I am, flaws and all, and he's intentional about being a good spouse. He said goodbye to his home so we could pursue our dreams in a city he's never even seen, and hasn't looked back. He's committed to Jesus, to us, and to His dreams for us.

This man, my friends, is as gold as they come, and without this heart beating next to me, I wouldn't know half of what I now understand of God's incredible, fierce and faithful love.

He leaves a mark on my life every single day and that's why I call him my hero. The past two years have been real and messy and beautiful and amazing, and not a day has gone by where I don't thank the good Lord for this gift I've been given. So to you, my handsome man, Happy Anniversary and thank you for loving me. Your kindness and compassion and faithfulness blow me away.

the countdown is on...

It's been a long while since I've sat down to write for this 'lil blog of mine. Almost two months, actually, and that is truly a sad thing. Sad because I've had about a bajillion things on my mind that could've used some blog therapy to help process, and yet, a bajillion things is a pretty big and dangerous number to try and narrow down. At any rate, here I am. Back at the old drawing board, and quite honestly, I have nothing profound or insightful to say other than this sneeze of a sentence:

In exactly one week from today, D and I are packing up our life and moving halfway across the country to Winnipeg.

Although this move has been a long time coming (I started requesting materials about grad schools a year ago), the anticipation of that "far-off life-changing thing" has finally arrived at the crossroads called "Do" or "Die". I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about changing my mind over the past couple of weeks. I've had my doubts, which I think comes with grieving the loss of something, but ultimately I'm trying to remember the reason we decided to go and that can be encapsulated in this: we're pursuing the dreams God has placed in our hearts.

And that leads me to something a friend said to me the other day. She said that sometimes when we're taking a big leap and doing something that will really change us, the letting-go-and-getting-there process is that much harder. I thought this was interesting because I'd never really thought about it like that. I've just always thought it was about me feeling sad to leave my home, my community, my beach, my family, my life, which is definitely a part of it -- not necessarily that my heart has been readying itself for something monumental. Which is kind of silly that I wouldn't think that, seeing that normally my mind (and heart) are mostly always overactive and self-reflective! So I think I actually really like what my friend said. It makes sense to me.

The next few days are going to be full and I intend to make them good and rich, like a fabulously decadent dessert after a good meal. There are still logistics to take care of and boxes of junk to sort through (any takers? no?), but that's all secondary to the fact that I get to spend some good quality time with the people I love in the place I love.

When I left for BC six years ago, I knew somewhere deep down that I'd be there for good. The wandering soul in me couldn't explain it at the time, but now that I've truly found home, it makes sense. It makes sense that my heart is grieving saying goodbye. It makes sense that I teeter between excitement and nausea. It makes sense that the unknown scares me and makes me want to stay where things are familiar. But at one time, this place was the unknown, and look where it's taken me. Full circle, baby.

So here's to changes of the good-for-you variety, and squeezing the juice out of life, and embracing the doors that have been opened to you, and trusting in the goodness and faithfulness of God. The journey continues, and what a journey it will be!