The One Where I Find a Desk in my Apartment

You saw a glimpse of the tiny apartment I call home. But my favorite part in it? That would be the desk that I found waiting in the living room when I came back after a visit to MN. It was just a few days after Christmas: I had taken a 5:00 a.m. flight out of Minneapolis, worked a half-day, and then tiredly stumbled into my dark apartment, dragging my bags after me. I almost dropped everything in surprise when there, waiting for me with a bow on top, sat the desk that I had pinned and asked Michael if we could build one day. While I had been home for Christmas, he found the plans, bought the lumber and spent his Christmas break on a labor of love!

What he didn't realize though, was that he'd have to help me pick a stain for it! We spent countless hours in Home Depot: he'd wander around the store, while I sat staring at samples, swing around to check on me, and would keep on going. Talk about nerve-racking ... I didn't want to mess it up! I finally picked a color, and we tested it out. It was too dark, so when Mom came out for visit, back we went back to Home Depot! Her many years experience in home decor saved the day, and we came home with a beautiful stain. Since I was still scared to touch it, she spent hours working the wood, and bringing it to life.

It's an incredible gift to be loved in tangible ways, isn't it?

(Oh and the shelf that is above it? Another Home Depot project!)

Vermont and Covered Bridges

It's becoming a thing. Nine times out of ten, at 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, there is a black truck parked outside my apartment with a grinning fiancé and a hot thermos of coffee waiting inside. And ninety percent of the time, I have no idea what is coming after I jump into the cab: and I have to admit, that's always the hardest part. I've always had a difficult time giving up control of what's coming next and trusting in what I can't foresee or plan. Our Saturday adventures are becoming lessons in learning to trust that Michael will take care of us, even if I can't see past 'the bend in the road' (literally and figuratively!).

A Saturday in mid March was no exception ... I knew we had plans for a date but didn't know what it involved other than to wear shoes comfortable to walk in. He was waiting for me by 9:00 so of course I walked to the truck by quarter after. After about a half hour I asked him what the 'VT Gifts' stood for on all the billboards that we were passing. He gave me a funny look and waited until the lightbulb turned on in my head when I realized we were crossing into Vermont. I blame my Midwest roots for not recognizing East Coast state abbreviations! We spent the day exploring the tiny town of Manchester, and as the sun set later that afternoon, he made the trip complete by finding us just one of Vermont's many covered bridges. All said and done, I didn't have to worry at all about about what was coming next, but could simply relish in the thoughtfulness and care that was right in front of me.

Apartment Love

It took about five and half months: but the little bluff-side apartment is looking more like a home and less like four bare walls. Having moved with only the items I could fit in a car, there was a closet full of clothes, three plants, dozens of dog-eared books, enough coffee equipment to start a café, and all the favorite photos. Oh. And a Christmas tree stand.

I was all set to spend the next few months getting lost as I drove about bargain hunting. But before I could even get started, the items I needed most started pouring in: Michael hauled in the tiny wooden bed that his Grandmother had given him when he turned four. His mom took us up into the attic one cold evening to dig for pots and pans, silverware and dishes. The two of them made a mess as they pulled apart box after box, making sure that I had complete sets of everything I needed. The thirty-year old brass lamps lighting the evenings came from his aunt and uncle, as did the couch. The plant came from Home Depot when I stopped to pick up his 'Little Christmas' gift.

And of course, the rug. Oh that rug. On her visit out here, Mom and I spent a better part of an evening in Target attempting to compare rugs and find something that would work in the space. We pulled out  option after option, laid them in the aisles of Target, bought one, decided it looked like something from a funeral parlor, and returned it. Later in the week, she managed to navigate her way around upstate New York without a GPS to find the perfect fit. She then made me exchange the curtains I had settled for to invest in the ones I wanted. Every time I look at them I’m grateful that she insisted.

When I look about me now, though it might not all match or look like it came from Pottery Barn, I see warm and generous hearts who didn't think twice about helping a Midwest transplant start putting down roots. 

Further Up and Further In

When I stop and realize the ways in which God gently, (and sometimes not so gently!) works in the background of my life, all I can do is stop and try to pick up my jaw up off  the floor. So many times, without even noticing how he is doing it, he brings the people I need most into my life.

Ms. Nataleigh is one such example. This friendship of ours goes back to a snowy January we spent studying philosophy in Poland. Two completely different personalities, together we somehow work - our various strengths contributing to a friendship that has weathered graduating, finding jobs, experiencing heartbreaks, going back to school, rendezvousing in Europe, and then moving to the East Coast within several months of each other.

We added another chapter to the story this past weekend as we experienced a piece of life on the East Coast. We hiked the Catskills, soaked in the beauty of the slowly-wakening spring, battled New York's toll-ways and lost, realized that our pallets are not refined enough to enjoy duck, relished these words, and had the unwritten agreement that since neither of us are morning people, talking before 8:00 a.m. was definitely not a necessity.

Where would we be without strong, deep friendships? Friends that draw you further up and further in ...

February

"Your part is to yield to my creative work in you, neither resisting it nor trying to speed it up. Enjoy the tempo of a God-breathed life by letting me set the pace. Hold my hand in childlike trust, and the way before you will open up step by step."
(Sarah Young)

A new library card. Laughing so hard you cry. Running into the gas station for milk with a cross of ashes on your forehead. Photos being hung on the wall. A kitchen overflowing with bodies (it never fails ... though plenty of places to sit, everyone congregates in the kitchen). Homemade croutons made with fresh olive oil. Receiving the news that your first niece just entered the world. A tiny little parish filled on a Friday night. Borrowing three little munchkins, a minivan, a dog and cat, and playing house for a day. Linens and cozy blankets. A group of young adults cramming into an Irish pub on a bitter cold night for Guinness and Theology of the Body. Hiking a portion of the Appalachian Trail covered in pine trees and fresh snow. Using Target bags to waterproof the hiking shoes. A run through the tiny little town nestled in the hills - discovering rolling fields and mountains on the other side of the bluff. The windows rolled down just a crack ... hinting at spring.
Leaning into a God-breathed life.

Brooklyn Point of View

The day we walked over the Brooklyn Bridge was also the day we walked for twelve miles, ended up in Eataly twice in one day (first pizza and then gelato), watched the sun set behind the Statue of Liberty from the boardwalk, savored the lights slowing blinking to life in the city, discovered our subway stop closed so we walked until we found another, hungrily sat down in Greenwich Village for burgers and beer at the end of the day, stopped to people watch at the Washington Square Arch, eavesdropped on the group walking in front of us as we attempted to decipher their accent, and slowly walked all the way back by way of 5th Avenue.