I'm a girl from Ohio who has moved to the South. This blog is a collection of tales of my experiences as a married woman and mom, and the story of how I met my true love.
As moms, we all have days when we've lost the hope to go on. You've just gotten everyone dressed and ready to venture outside of the house, and then your baby has the biggest spit-up in recorded history. And, not just on their clothes, but also all over the one outfit that you feel beautiful in after recently giving birth.
I feel that way on and off repeatedly throughout the days. I can predict the highs and lows though, which makes it more bearable. The process of getting myself and the girls out of the house will most likely be a low point. When I see my husband's gold SUV pull in the driveway after work, that is definitely a high point. His presence just puts me at ease and he is the most gracious help to me, and a hero to our older daughter, Chariot.
Both of our daughters have had a sensitivity to casein and soy, meaning that during breastfeeding, I couldn't consume either. That means no soy, cheese, butter, milk, or beef. As an American, this is a huge challenge and brings a lot of low points in my day. When I wake up in the morning and prepare my black coffee, I remember that I can't have any of my usual morning chocolate, not even chocolate chips. Bummer. I tried making my own chocolate, but it was only good for soy and dairy-free no-bake cookies, which of course, are delicious, but a lot of work when there's a newborn and a 2-year old in the house.
Chariot has outgrown this intolerance, THANKFULLY, but we are only at the beginning with little Cadence. So, the year ahead has seemed bleak as I've thought about my time being consumed with diapers, spit-up, and no food to comfort me at the end of the day. Not the most healthy comfort, of course, but a comfort nonetheless.
We live in a rural county in North Carolina. By rural, I mean that the nearest Target is about 30 minutes away. The county has allowed for some commercial chains, including Walmart and McDonald's, but the others are fairly small and can be hit or miss as far as modernity.
Yesterday I had my post partum visit at the doctor's office in the nearest developed city-Wilmington. They have everything that I miss living out of town-cultural variety being the main thing, but also wider availability of foods and clothing. My entire life and outlook turned around yesterday just from one trip to Whole Foods.
I went only in hopes of finding a few treats to get that feel-good-feeling in the morning with my coffee: sugar cookie baking mix, and possibly soy-free dairy-free chocolate in any form. Just as long as it wasn't like Lindt's 80% Dark Chocolate (don't ever eat it), I could handle it.
To pause for a minute, all of this is a classic "First World Problems" rant, I know. It's almost annoying me as I read it over. But, it's still hard. I personally depend heavily on cheese to snack on because it has no sugar or carbs (Juvenile Diabetes), so taking that away is a huge change for me to adapt to. Throwing that in with all of the changes of adding a new member to the family, plus hormonal changes, make the walls more susceptible to crumbling.
*Disclaimer-chocolate-although disputed by many-is a wonderful snack for diabetics! If you plan and take insulin accordingly, it's a lifesaver. The fat in chocolate makes the sugar break down more slowly, so you don't get the spikes like if you ate pure candy. It's the best thing ever.
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I pulled into the civilized parking lot which includes Whole Foods, Learning Express, and Chipotle. It's like a dream for the residents of Brunswick County who've once tasted the fruit of commercial convenience.
Whenever I walk into Whole Foods, I just feel like a better human being. Somehow I feel healthier just having stepped through the doors, even if I am there to buy sugar cookies.
I perused the aisles of glorious foods, and found not only safe chocolate chips to eat, but all of these wonderful treats!
GOD BLESS the people who created the recipes to make these things. I tried the coconut ice cream, and it isn't great, but it is a nice substitute. These treats will probably last me for an entire year! The flavored almond milk coffee drinks are pretty good. THE BEST of all are the chocolate chips and the almond milk ice cream bars. I can't tell the difference between the real thing and the second best in either of those things.
If you are a mom who has a fussy infant, I want to pass this information I found a couple of years ago. It helped me tremendously! I have met so many moms who had pediatricians suggest that their infant can't handle their breast milk and put the baby on formula. Of course, I'm sure they are right some of the time, but many times, I think they're missing the mark. I came to that conclusion based on my own experience with both daughters. I have now seen 3 different doctors-1 Family Medicine, 2 Pediatricians, and none have brought up removing dairy and soy from my diet. I had to figure that out on my own, and when I did, my babies have done GREAT with breastfeeding!
So, if you're about to give up, read this first! Scroll down to find the paragraph. This article has many other helpful links, such as "how long does it take for what I eat to get into my breast milk?"
Sometimes I forget that I am not in control of my daughter's future. Come to think of it, I have little control over the present as well. And well, the past is, well, past now, so no use fretting over that either.
We just had our second daughter, Cadence Aurelia. She is such a peaceful soul, but her arrival has brought much turmoil to our house. The turmoil has reached into the heart of our firstborn, Chariot Irene, and she has changed. I have thought that I was responsible for this, and responsible for fixing it. Then I remembered that there is a God and that He has a plan.
Chariot Irene loves to pretend to be a mommy. Last week, she unzipped her footy pajamas all the way down to her feet and walked out of her room with my nursing cover on, nursing one of her baby dolls. It shocked me and filled me with joy and laughter.
Then, in my mind came a shocking reality; This little girl is a fleeting moment in time. I am 31 years old, which, how did that happen? Even more quickly, I'll be 40, and then 50, and so on...
And our house will be empty of requests to "wake up the dinosaur" or "play toys", no babies will long to be held and our house will be the saddest kind of clean.
Chariot and "Dinosaur" (formerly named "Chariot")
I realized last year sometime that this time is only for us. Our children, right now, they will not be known by anyone but us. Of course, they'll grow up and their friends will know them better than we do, and then they'll hopefully find the loves of their lives and marry the one who will know them the best. But, no one will know our 2-year old Chariot or our 1-month Cadence. Not even their spouses.
This time is for us, and it is passing quickly.
Psalm 39:4
"Show me, LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is."
Ecclesiastes 7:2
"It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart."
Now that I am remembering these truths, I am spending my days differently.
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Our church is doing a "one word" challenge in 2015. Our Pastor charged us to pray to God to speak one word to us, one thing we are to commit to or change in 2015, and this is to be our focus for the year. God revealed my word instantly. Upon hearing others' words, I thought that maybe I had misunderstood the exercise. Everyone was claiming to hear Biblical words that were adjectives or verbs-kindness, discipline, commit, etc...I think I might have the only noun that I've heard so far.
God said, "mother".
At first I heard it as a noun, but now I think it could be a verb in this context as well.
He has confirmed this several times to me, as I was telling a friend this week. One confirmation was last week when I had both of our girls at home and I so desperately wanted to do something not-related to them. I can't remember what it was. I'll just say it was either writing a grocery list or hanging a picture frame, both of which take almost no time. But, it was too much of a request. Some kind of hell ended up breaking loose-I can't remember that either, but I can imagine it was Chariot sitting on her potty, crying about something, while I was trying to wrangle and soothe a fussy Cadence on her changing table.
I may have concocted this in my own mind based on what a human would have said, but I had this feeling, a small voice saying, "You weren't listening to me, were you?"
mother
Normally, the above scenario could sent me careening over the edge of sanity, but with my focus now on being a mother, and only that, I cope more easily and even look forward to what 2015 may bring, even if it is a year of changing diapers, drying tears, and giving the exact same answer to the exact same seemingly pointless questions 15-20 times in the car. What the old me would have seen as an inconvenience in a busy day, I now see as a blessing and continually pray for deeper insight into how each moment I take to look into their eyes will shape their future.
We now spend mornings letting Chariot help make the coffee, and she likes to wait for the magical dark liquid to drip into the pot. She holds my hand as we watch the coffee come down. It has made me appreciate the invention of the coffee pot like never before. It really is amazing. This morning, we ended up sitting on the floor, looking up at the dripping pot and singing "Amazing Grace" while I played with her hair.
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Chariot has, up to now, been influenced by a lot of mothers. She spends her days with me, watching me take care of the house and go grocery shopping, taking care of her baby sister. She spends time at church seeing women care for the children in "The Nest" (our young children's ministry), and she sees maternal women come to our house often lately to help me as a new mom of two. She is also influenced by my mother-in-law, "Meemo", who was a stay-at-home mom and homeschool mom. It doesn't get any more dedicated than that, in my opinion.
Chariot's life is so very different from my childhood. That thought makes me go back in time and relive my entire life up to now in flashes of memory in mind, and I start to fear God. I marvel at how I was once in darkness, but was found. I realize that it was nothing that I did, but belief comes only by God's grace. I realize that if I am here now, somehow, by the hand of God, then all of this must be His will for me.
As I've had the revelation for my word for 2015, "mother", and started praying for deeper insight into situations involving our children, I see that God is preparing my Chariot. I can't see the future, but I can pray for the future, and, I believe God can give me insight into the future to pray accordingly. I see things developing in her, a desire for mommyhood and a tenacious attitude that never gives up. She has no idea how to tie her shoes, but she will try and try again so very hard until she works herself into anger. And I know, that because of my praying for God's will and protection in her life, that this must be part of his plan for her. The lack of attention from mommy and daddy from having to divide it between two girls and the pain that it is bringing must be part of his plan.
I remember talking with my mother-in-law shortly after Chariot was born and telling her that I was worried that she would resent me because I have a wavering faith that I sometimes cannot hide. She has a way of reassuring that I sometimes find simple and annoying, but I ended up reaching a point where I can't deny the wisdom in her advice.
She told me that even I reach a point of total unbelief, then that must be a part of God's plan for her. This put me at ease. Not, of course, the part about me possibly reaching a point of unbelief, but the other part.
God has a plan, and I am not in control of it. I can only be an instrument, and I have decided to try my hardest. I have decided that playing worship music with my husband is second or possibly last place, being a better and more successful photographer is a dream or idea on hold, hanging a picture frame may not happen until I'm 40. Here is why:
"Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him." Psalm 127:3
What is a heritage? I know basically what it means, but felt led to look it up. Here's what I found:
1. something that comes or belongs to one by reason of birth; an inherited lot or portion:
"a heritage of poverty and suffering; a national heritage of honor, pride, and courage."
2. something reserved for one:
"the heritage of the righteous."
3. Law. a.something that has been or may be inherited by legal descent or succession.
b.any property, especially land, that devolves by right of inheritance.
Here is what I concluded:
It is something from which you cannot escape or change, which leads me to believe that it must be determined and destined by God.
Our children are our destiny.
And our children have a destiny. We are a part of that, but ultimately God is in control of it. Knowing that has set me free as a mom.
Today it feels like fall. And in my burnt orange, long-sleeved shirt and BDA pants, I feel like I'm drowning in a swirling sea of worries. And I've been thinking of drawing a line...
One year ago minus a couple of weeks, I was drowning too. But that time it was in someone else's worries and not my own. It was more like a holy burden than a worry. Worries are much worse than holy burdens.
Family. We are family. The members of the Church of Christ, my blood relatives, the people in the family of my friend who I had coffee with one year ago in my last post.
This has not been a very good week. I'll just leave it at that.
To reward myself for surviving, I decided that I should get my hair cut and colored. This is a serious treat for me (I usually cut my own hair and haven't had it colored in a year...I know, what a sacrifice-that's sarcasm in case you couldn't tell).
Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to pay the standard $130 salon price for a cut and color, so I decided to be brave and go to WAL-MART. That's right ladies, Wally World.
Before that I drove to Port City Java, my former place of brief employment, to get an Americano. It was wonderful.
When I got to Wal-Mart, there was an overzealous Manager posing as the Greeter, yelling around him and asking, "Where's ma greeter???" That wasn't a spelling error just to clarify.
I had some returns to make, and while I was in line I scoped out the beauty salon to see if it was open, and it was. There was a large African-American woman working there who was probably in her 50's. I thought there might be a conflict of interests (with weaves and all) and so I decided to skip out and do it another day. I didn't feel like it was racist since I'm sure that African-American women would much rather have an African-American woman do their hair because the typical white woman wouldn't have a clue where to start.
But then, on the way out, I remembered how bad my week was and so far, my day, and decided that even if I walked out with purple hair, that it would still probably put me in a better mood. It even made me feel adventurous and I wondered what kind of stories I'd be hearing from this woman (because beauticians always have a story to tell if you don't feel like talking).
And wow! She did. I knew more about that woman's vagina before I left than probably anyone else in the free world.
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October, 2012
A few weeks later I found out that I was just over 4 weeks pregnant. It was the beginning of Fall, the day after my deceased Father's birthday. His sister was visiting us, and morning after she arrived I jumped in my car to head to Wal-Mart. I had been unusually emotional and I wanted to take a test just to be sure. I knew it would be negative. We hadn't ever used birth control and I had resolved long ago that we were undoubtedly called to adoption. I was blasting Rita Springer in my car, singing the words with sincerity. "I am in this forever", a simple phrase which sung by Rita Springer turned into something of a Holy anthem.
When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom with the pregnancy test secretly in tow. I wondered if anyone was suspicious. They weren't. My aunt was out in the backyard sunbathing and my husband was in his studio on the computer.
The test was positive.
I think I whispered an expletive just because I was in shock, but I was very happy. I had to control myself to not run downstairs to tell my husband, so I walked briskly with the test hidden in my pocket.
I walked into the room and whisper-yelled, "Sweetie!" I had to yell a second time because he's hard of hearing (it's true and he's finally excepted it after a few years of denial). But, in his defense, it was a "whisper-yell". He looked at me with slightly widened eyes, and I whipped out the test for his eyes to behold. "I'm pregnant!" His usual "expletive" is "Holy crap!" which he whisper-yelled when he put the two pieces together.
I remember that we were both excited, but it was obvious that we were trying to not get TOO excited. If you've read my previous blogs, then you know that we had an ectopic pregnancy a couple of years ago. So, we were saving our true joy for the day that we would see our baby in the uterus on an ultrasound.
And we did, two weeks later.
It was a way better medication than a Wal-Mart hairdo.
You go to have coffee with your friend who tells you that she's started a bank account to prepare for leaving her husband of almost 20 years. It's morning, and you're sitting by the window, letting the sun attempt to warm the cold conversation. As you listen to all of the good reasons why she started the bank account, you almost believe that she's making the right choice.
You can feel her descriptions of the childrens' emotions, and her's as the tears stream down her face, and then, you zone out completely.
You're somewhere else in a matter of seconds.
You have the incredible realization that every single event in your life, every apartment you moved to, every relationship you started that you knew would inevitably end, your weight gain and unexpected weight loss, your Bachelor's Degree that now sits framed on a shelf, everything, eventually, brought you to this table, in this dappled sunlight, with this woman who a few years ago you didn't even know existed, to this cup of coffee.
And all of a sudden, it becomes a Holy Moment.
The thought occurs to you that maybe every single thing in your life was purposeful somehow. You even feel important. A sense of urgency fills you, that you need to tell this woman to persevere in what should be eternal vows.
Maybe coffee does have meaning. Maybe the stop lights, our Doctor's appointments, and checking out at the grocery store, even the dreaded trips to the post office, all have meaning. All are part of a puzzle that could never be completed without those cups of coffee.
Things have changed drastically since I wrote this. My blogging has fallen behind but I will get you all caught up this week!
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Well, today is the day: Our final home visit before sending our license off to the state. Our social worker arrives at 5:00 PM today, and neither of us can believe that we managed to do all of our last minute chores last night.
I recently ordered a book called Another Place at the Table by Kathy Harrison. If you've ever thought about fostering/ adopting, you should give this a read. It's a Foster Mother's journey through "the system", as we've realized it's referred to by insiders, and she tells the most bone-chilling tales of children that are brought to her like wild animals who have been abused for too long. Just like animals, they are unpredictable; one minute they may be snuggled in your lap, but if they feel any sense of fear they will bite in an instant.
In the book she describes rocking children late in the night, sobbing for a mother who will never come back, and that is the tamest of things.
I'd like to say that I'm confident that this is the right next step in our lives, but the reality is: I am not.
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This is the last chapter of our love story.
If you've read this far, THANK YOU.
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After my visit in early January, we made a commitment to visit each other at least once a month. We talked on the phone everyday for hours, me asking him endless questions in an effort to compile a list of perfectly good reasons why we would never work out. I remember our air conditioning conversation and being appalled when he said he set his thermostat to 80 in the summers, while I set mine to a frosty 72.
He had just been hired at the Nuclear Plant in Southport, so his schedule was very busy. But despite that, we still managed to fit in 4 hours of phone time almost every day. He sent me this photo of him with all of his Document Services ladies:
He flew to Ohio at the end of January, and it was bitter cold. I remember going to pick him up at the airport, still wondering what I was doing, where this was taking me (if anywhere), thinking about the Background Guy, and smoking a cigarette. I had just decided to take up the habit again, and really I wasn't even very good at it. I could never smoke an entire cigarette without feeling sick.
At this point I must mention my dear friend Mandy, who was a very special God-send to me during this period of my life. We ran in the same circle, but had never really connected until I met Mr. Casey, and when I look back I am still so incredibly thankful for her. This is a photo of us at Friday's right before I met Casey Samuel in person. I think we were making fun of our other friend Therese's new driver's license photo:
I arrived at the Dayton International Airport, parked my ol' faithful green Honda and went inside. Feelings of anxiety came over me: I was afraid of seeing him again, afraid that when I saw him I might not like him as much as when we talked on the phone. In my state, I called Mandy, who I knew could give me some logical, objective advice.
I hid myself beside a phone booth on the perimeter, surveying the crowd to see if I could find him, knowing that if I spotted him, I'd hide a little better so that I could study him for a few moments and work up to that first awkward greeting. I used the payphone I was hiding behind to call her, as I was going through a period in my life where I was living without a cell phone. I was rebelling against modern society.
Mandy answered her phone, and I spoke to her frantically saying, "I can't do this Mandy!" I tried to explain my predicament in trying to get my mind and heart to forget about the Background Guy, but that I couldn't. I tried to explain that I wasn't sure if I was making the right decision, and I'm sure she was exasperated with me.
In mid-conversation, I spotted him. He was wearing a black jacket and an orange scarf. "Oh no! I see him!" I whisper-yelled into the phone as I darted behind the phone booth. I needed her to say something profound, and quickly.
She spoke to me calmly and explained her insights: where the Background Guy was going, I could not go, and where I was going, he could not go. It made perfect sense to me, and yes, it was that simple for me to be okay with my situation at that moment after her simple words of wisdom. I add "at that moment" because my confusion came back to haunt me later.
"Oh no! I see him! What should I do???" Mandy said cooly, "Just go get him." I hesitantly replied, trying to have as much assurance as she apparently had, "Alright. I'll let you know how it goes." I hung up and rolled my eyes in despair.
I appeared from behind the phone booth, and made my way past a crowd of people walking through the baggage claim area, wondering how he hadn't seen me yet and even being annoyed with him that he hadn't. We greeted each other, awkwardly as expected, and left the airport.
Although we were facing arctic weather, we did get out enough to have Starbucks, Breakfast at Mimi's Cafe, and hit up the Cheesecake Factory once, and we probably went to visit Mandy just because they both got along so well and she made me feel like he wasn't so awkward after all. He spent the nights at his Aunt Alison's house which was only a 10-minute drive from my apartment.
In one attempt to leave the apartment in the blizzard, he tried to gentlemanly back my car out of a parking space in the lot outside. I watched from my window, knowing he was about to fail miserably since he probably had never driven in the snow before.
And I was right! I watched through my cheap blinds and my super-cool indigo and lavender drapes with sparkles (ah, college decorations) as he was able to back up a total of two feet and then got stuck. The parking lot was at least two feet high with snow, and I actually felt bad for him instead of being disgusted, so I hurried downstairs to save him and show him how it was done, having a feeling that I would tell this story again someday.
After 3 days I took him to the airport and he was gone again. I was relieved to know that I would have at least another month to think about things before I saw him again. I spent the next month attending my last quarter of classes before I would graduate, which included mostly introductory classes that I'd put off until the bitter end: History 101, Intro to Biology, an Independent Study based on my recent trip to Kenya, and lastly, Western Civilization. I actually snuck Casey Samuel into one of the Western Civ. lectures once so he could see how scatter-brained the professor was.
I can't believe the memory of this class almost escaped me until writing out our journey.
Our last big assignment in the class was to write a paper on explaining why we thought female genital mutilation could be justified. He gave us a long lecture on both sides of the issue, and then set us free to write our papers. We all arrived at class and handed in the papers. A week later, the elderly professor came into class fuming, threw our papers back at us, and said that there was "no way" that we could ever think female genital mutilation was okay. He had a field day with us and the feature event was mind games. I have my own thoughts on the subject of "mutilation" vs. "religious practice" but that's for another day. Definitely another day.
Sidenote to Back-Track:
I forgot some great snippets of information from when we wrote to each other on Myspace! It is true that we did not see each other in person or talk on the phone during that 9-month period, but we did see video of each other.
We were both aspiring film-makers, and he had uploaded some of his short films featuring his best friend, Joel Winstead, on Youtube. They called them "Treestand Issues".
My inspiring film was made on a whim one day when I spotted a fundamentalist Christian ironically raising hell in the middle of the commons. I was trying to be deep and artsy:
Anyway, back to the story:
Something was brewing in February, and I had no idea. Mr. Casey and I continued to talk every day after work and school, and he informed me that he made plans to come and visit me the weekend before Valentine's Day.
In our phone conversations, after much prying on his part, I confessed that much of my hesitation about our relationship was because I needed a certain sign from God that would confirm our relationship, and that I had not yet received it. I did not tell him what it was or give any hints. Since I was gaining a lot of worldly knowledge and philosophy in college, taking classes like Philosophy of Religion, I was coming to think that it was very silly of me to hold out on such a far-fetched notion of this dancing with gardenias.
Another Sidestory:
I remembered that the previous year (I wrote this down in my sacred journal) that I had given into the guilty pleasure of the ultimate chick-flick: Pride & Prejudice.
I had a thing about TV: I didn't want to watch it because I was paranoid about wasting time and life. But, this time, I didn't care.
I had a really cheap DVD player that I think I bought from Meijer, that was hooked up to an old, white, 20'', SHARP, TV. It had never had skipped from time-to-time, but on this particular day, it just plain SHUT OFF.
Which, here's a sidenote about that phrase: SHUT OFF. I have wondered where North Carolinians picked up the phrase: CUT OFF. Why does one have to "cut off" the lights? But you know what I just realized? That phrase makes so much more sense than "shut off". What in the world does that even mean anyway???
Back to the movie:
I was watching, and probably eating, and I was about 15 minutes into the film (the point when you start to really focus). If you've seen it, you probably remember the flirtatious feud that Mr. Darcy has with what's-her-face in the beginning, when they are at the first ball.
They are arguing about how one shows another affection. He asks her, "How then, does one go about showing affection?"
She looks at him and says, "Dancing..." And then the movie shut off. The whole TV shut off.
My eyes got wide as I knew what was happening. The most curious thing though was that I hadn't even been thinking about the journal or the conference, but I certainly did after that. I dug out my journal and recorded what had happened. I tried to record all of the signs along the way of the journey.
At that point in time I had just discovered Casey Samuel's existence, but I did not even consider him a prospect.
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He was very much aware of my past, and, at the time, truthfully present heartaches from too many romantic relationships that I'd had. I felt numb, like all the love had been sucked out of me, and it was difficult for me to latch on to anyone again.
He was also aware of the battle with the eating disorder, but I assured him that I was doing much better. The thing was though, that I was never really better. I went through waves of it: okay, then horrible, then great, then horrible, and so on. I guess you could look at it as a bi-polar sort of thing, but I actually have come to think that true bi-polar disorder is quite rare, and I don't think that was my problem.
I had previously agreed (since Mr. Casey and I were still in the "talking" process and were not mutually exclusive) to go to dinner on Valentine's Day, which was falling a Wednesday, with a guy from "The Barrel" named Adam. I knew that Adam was an awkward guy with little to no friends, and I was being polite when he had asked me to dinner. I did stress, however, that we would be going just as friends. Casey Samuel asked me kindly one night on the phone if I would please consider not going out to dinner with this Adam character, and to be exclusive, and I agreed that I would and wondered how long it would last.
...
The weekend before Valentine's day had arrived, and, as usual, I went to pick up Casey Samuel at the Dayton Airport. And, as usual, it was so cold that our breath formed thick clouds in the air when we struggled to breathe.
During his last trip up, I took him shopping at the mall so that he could buy himself a decent winter coat, since all he owned before that was, in my opinion, a Spring jacket. The final decision for the coat was made after we were out one chilly afternoon and he squinted his eyes through the icy wind and struggled to say, "I've. Never. Experienced. Cold. Like. This. Before."
It looked so nice on him, I thought. It was a Calvin Klein, long dress coat that was soft to the touch. The fact that is was a name-brand winter coat made him feel British.
I felt more comfortable around him during this trip, like things were maybe going to resemble something akin to a normal dating relationship. The jacket was helping.
He would fly in on Fridays and we would spend that time just hanging out and getting reacquainted. That weekend I had the most terrible cold that I think I've ever had in my entire life, and he was very gracious to me and didn't mind kissing me anyway.
In honor of Valentine's Day, I made him 22 Valentine's Day cards to make up for the Valentine's Days that he hadn't had a significant other in the past, and he probably teared up over it as he often does over emotional things (but never over films).
Saturday, my cold had put me out of commission completely, so we stayed in my apartment all afternoon watching movies. I wanted to get out in the evening, so we drove a block to the college Starbucks to get him a Mocha. I was, of course, still wearing my gardenia perfume. I'd kept buying it since the conference.
While we were standing in line, he noticed my perfume for the first time. He asked me, "What kind of perfume do you wear?" I told him "it's gardenia body spray (because it was). It's not a perfume, it's a spray." I have no idea why I was so clear about what it's liquid form was, but I think it had something to do with that I had spoken the word, "gardenia" and was afraid he'd be on to me. He told me that he always noticed how good I smelled and was just curious.
He asked me if I wanted to do anything else special for Valentine's Day, and suggested that we go to a park. This suggestion baffled me because the outside was covered in ice, and I declined the offer.
We went back to my apartment, and he told me that he wanted to give me something. I was mortified because I thought he was going to give me an engagement ring upon only our 4th visit, and sat stiffly on the couch. He got out my guitar, and started to play me a song that he told me he'd written in the airport.
He called it, "Stay A While", and I'll just share the chorus with you:
So stay a while with me 'til I fall asleep Stay a while with me Sing your love for me Stay a while with me
It was very sweet and I loved it. I was also relieved when I thought this was his gift and that I had avoided an awkward moment.
But, that wasn't everything.
He said, "I want to give you something."
I noticed my eyes got wide a lot during this time of my life, and once again, they did. He walked behind the couch to get something out of his bag, and to my surprise, he reached his arm around me and handed it to me.
His offering was 2, perfectly white, perfectly bloomed, gardenias.
I almost died.
Where did he get them? It's February. How did he bring them in his bag and keep them in such mint condition? How did he know? Oh my God, does this mean I have to marry him? I'm not ready to marry anyone just yet.
But despite my racing thoughts and doubts, I was delighted at my gift. I also had a conflicting sense of relief because I knew then that he was the man I was supposed to marry, but I was wondering how the readiness of my mind could influence the unsteadiness of my heart.
I immediately asked, "How? How did you know?" He confessed that he'd been doing his homework on the subject of me and the instructor was none-other than Mandy. But thankfully Mandy was a faithful friend, and had not divulged my secret to anyone.
Apparently he figured out that he needed a prize to claim me, and he was determined to figure it out. He deduced on his own that it was a flower, and called Mandy to confirm his hypothesis: secret flower=future bride.
She confirmed this hypothesis, and then he asked her if she could give him any hints: colors at least? She held firmly to her no.
He took some time to think and to pray, and he had finally come up with his answer. Lilac. He called Mandy immediately.
She answered. "Mandy! I think I've got it!" "Okay, go ahead." "Lilac." He waited for her to gasp with joy, but instead she sighed with disappointment. "No, that's not it."
He was a let down soul. He grasped at reasons for why God would not reveal this to him, and didn't want to give in to the possible truth that maybe he was not the one for Casey Lauren.
They filled the phone static with small talk, and then, he had a revelation.
He thought of another flower.
An argument began in his mind.
He said he heard it as if a voice said, "Ask about gardenias."
"That's just stupid. That's grasping at straws and guessing random flowers."
He said at first he thought it was his own mind playing tricks on him, that it had never occurred to him that it may be supernatural.
And then it said, "Just ask about this one flower, and nothing else."
So he waited until there was a lull in the conversation.
"Okay Mandy, I've got one more. I don't know why, but I just have to ask."
"Go ahead."
"Is it..." he paused to contemplate it himself..."Gardenias?"
There was a squeal of delight on the other end of the phone as she confirmed that that was the right answer, and that week he was off on his search for the elusive bush.
I need to let you all know that Casey Samuel was not savvy about finding things. He wasn't the kind of guy that looked for things online. For goodness' sake, he hadn't even visited any of the restaurants in Downtown Southport until we were married and he'd lived there his entire life. If he was looking for something, the first place he would go was Wal-Mart, as it is the most happenin' place in town.
So he went off to Wal-Mart in search of a gardenia plant in January. And the power above seemed to want to make things very easy for him that day, because Wal-Mart did, in fact, have gardenias for sale, a rarity that I have not seen again since that year-April is the earliest, March, maybe, that they would be out.
He skimmed through the plants, looking for any signs of blooming. There were none. It was no surprise either, since it was so early in the season. But then, he saw it: the only one with blooms or buds on it, with two blooms as a matter-of-fact, and he bought it.
Gardenias in bloom in January in the Southport Wal-Mart-seriously? ...
There was another situation at hand but I didn't realize how close it was.
Before Mr. Casey had come to visit, I got a typical, accusatory phone call from my dad. He had developed some severe paranoia in his later years that led him to believe that my favorite thing to do was to give his phone number out to strangers, which I never actually did.
The phone rang. I answered.
The first words out of his mouth were, "Why is he calling me?"
I assumed he meant Casey Samuel, since he could never bring himself to say his full name. I also knew immediately why he had called him, and was kind of annoyed with my dad for not being able to subdue his psychosis just this once.
I didn't even have to ask my dad if he had answered the call, because I knew him so well that I could recount the entire scenario without knowing anything.
Casey Samuel called my dad. My dad didn't answer. Casey Samuel left a message. My dad checked the message, and instead of calling him back like what the rules of cultural social norms say, he called me instead, fearing that Casey Samuel probably already had access to his bank accounts and was funneling profits.
I tried be gracious with him while also trying to calm him down, "Dad, he probably wants to ask your permission to marry me."
"Oh.... Well......Alright. Do I have to call him back?"
"YES."
Even though I think I probably explained to Casey Samuel that my dad wouldn't be able to comprehend such a gesture, he felt an obligation to it and I thought it was very sweet.
Since the surprise had been revealed, I was a little on edge that weekend and hoping that the proposal wouldn't be happening that soon. Before he gave me the gardenias, I thought he was just calling my dad to make his intentions known, although I knew my dad didn't sense an obligation to give me his permission for things unless it involved money.
When I told Casey Samuel later that my dad had blown the secret, I recounted the entire conversation that I suspected he had had with him, and he confirmed that it was accurate and was amazed at how well I was able to quote my dad without having heard the conversation first-hand.
...
And then it was Sunday.
We made plans to go to church at Faith Lutheran, my grandparents church, and then go out to lunch with my mom and Jeff, who is my step-dad. Casey Samuel wore his long, black coat and I kept thinking that day that he looked like a husband.
He held the hymn book and sang the songs played to the old organ as loud as he could and I could tell that my grandfather (Paw-Paw) was pleased with him. My grandma (Nanny) has no filter over what she says. Whatever pops into head will come out of her mouth, which no one minds since she's now 87.
She was on one side of me with Casey Samuel on the other, and she turned to me indiscreetly and said, "You know, I didn't think he was good-looking before but that hair cut really helped; he's really a cutie!"
Thankfully Mr. Casey is a gracious man, and he laughed about it.
...
When we left church we walked out into the snow and ice-covered parking lot and got into my car, which I was letting him drive that weekend. As we pulled off, he asked me, "So, would you like to get married in a church like this someday?"
At that moment I was feeling good about our situation, and so I smiled and said, "Yes. I think so."
...
I was starving and eager to eat some First Watch Crepes. I even have a First Watch coffee mug at my house, thanks to my thoughtful friend Stephanie McSpadden (now Rowlan), so that I can remember my favorite restaurant in Ohio.
All four of us were there, getting into a booth. I sat down first, and asked Casey Samuel if I could hold his jacket for him after he took it off. I grabbed it to shove in the corner, but instead decided I'd use it to cover up since it was so cold. When I draped it over my legs, I adjusted it and smoothed it out, and as I did, my hand grabbed right at the jacket pocket, and I felt an unmistakable object: a ring box.
I was mortified because I knew that my answer would be no, and also because we were sitting down to lunch with my family and we were in the middle of small talk. I tried to act natural as I felt the ring box and I knew that my eyes had to have at least doubled in size for about 10 seconds as I stumbled over my words when my mom asked our how our weekend had been.
We finished up eating and then went back to my apartment, and by then I was nearly exploding trying to keep the secret that I was onto him.
"What are you doing?" I demanded. "I know what you're planning!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." He said innocently. He was never a good liar. He always thinks too long and his nostrils flare which is always his giveaway.
I told him the situation at First Watch and he was very amused. He admitted that he had a plan, what he thought was a fail-proof plan. I told him that my answer was "no", that I wasn't ready yet, but he didn't believe me or he just didn't care. He took out the box and told me that he was going to wait to see if the right time came up, but then decided that that time was right now.
I was sitting down on the couch, which I inherited from Grandma Townsend, in what we had dubbed the "snuggle corner", and he knelt down in front of me with the ring box. I was probably shaking my head at him, wondering why he was putting himself through this pain. He told me that he loved me with all of his heart, and asked me to marry him. I said "no."
There was more of an explanation of course. I told him that I wasn't ready yet, and he was trusting enough to give me the ring anyway. It is not the wedding ring that I have today. I had told him that if we ever got married, I wanted a simple ring with no diamonds. Just something artsy that I could wear for any occasion.
It was a silver ring and the design was two leaves intertwined. I loved it and wished that I had the guts to agree to his proposal.
And that was how we left off: with a turned-down proposal. He flew back to North Carolina the next day.
...
My "no" did not end our relationship. He told me that he knew that one day, I would say "yes", and that he would never give up on me.
I would like to say that things got better for me, but they actually became worse. The stresses of work, college, relationships, and the eating disorder were consuming me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to marry Casey Samuel, when I still had feelings for someone else. So, in a moment of total desperate weakness, I called The Background Guy. I was an emotional disaster, crying over the phone and I think even hoping that would make him more transparent in his confession of loving me. I hadn't heard from him in months at this point, and the saga of our complicated friendship had been going on for 6 years. The last time I saw him was one unfortunate night the past July, and it was now February. I told him I'd been dating someone else and was having some doubts, and this conversation was the last chance. I asked why I hadn't heard from him, and wanted him to tell me that it was officially over on his end so that I could peacefully move on. He hesitated before he gave his unforgettable answer.
He said he'd had a heart-to-heart with one of his friends at college, which is where he was at the time. He told him, "I'll do anything God asks me to, but I won't marry Casey Townsend." At first I was confused and wondered if he meant that he just wouldn't because he was afraid to or wouldn't because he didn't want to, but deep down I knew what he meant. We hung up the phone, and that was THE END of that.
Looking back I can see that what I thought were strong feelings for this man was only a cry for acceptance by someone who had repeatedly rejected me. I would say, "I don't handle rejection well", but, does anyone???
I add this part to the story because I don't think that you need to wait to get married to someone once you've forgotten all of your past loves and losses. It works that way for some, but the reality is, you don't forget about the ones you thought you loved before or the pain they caused you. You choose to move on instead of feeling ready to move on.
I knew that God was separating me from this person once and for all, and I was relieved for it, but also deeply sad because I knew that this time I had to obey.
...
Thankfully, I had a friend who didn't let me isolate myself from her, as I often do with people. Her name is Lorri Linkhart. I confided in her about my eating disorder, and my epic mistake with calling The Background Guy. The eating disorder was taking a toll on my blood sugars and all-around well-being, but I couldn't find it within myself to get it together. I was missing classes and work because of it.
In addition to that, I told her about the epic phone-call mistake I had just made. After hearing all of these updates, she made me an appointment with a therapist that specialized in eating disorders for that same week. I will always consider her a true friend.
None of my blunders were kept secret from Casey Samuel. I always told him everything, and he always displayed endless grace.
When she made me the appointment, the problems that I had all of a sudden became a lot more serious in my mind. In my mind I went through aspects that were making life harder, and Cracker Barrel was one of them. I went to work one day with the intention of quitting, and I knew that I couldn't give them 2 weeks notice, that I had to be done that very day.
I had cut my hours a lot anyway so I knew it wouldn't be a big loss to them. My boss was a Jewish man, and interestingly enough we had a lot in common and I found it hard to believe that my local church would tell this sweet man that he would spend his eternity in hell for not accepting Christ, and I often tried to reconcile what I believe to be absolute truth.
I confessed everything to him, and he was very kind to me and understood that that shift would be my last.
...
At my first appointment with the therapist, I felt relieved to just be in the office; I knew this was something that I really needed. There were a few others in the waiting room, and I couldn't help but wonder why they were there and if we had anything in common.
My therapist's name was Betsy, and the first thing she had me do was take a psychological exam. It was my first one ever, and I was feeling very anti-establishment that day so my answers may have been skewed just a little, but nonetheless probably accurate.
I thought of my parents and realized that their main emotion had always been anger, and then the other pieces of the puzzle began to fall together which would take too long to explain. My results came back predictably with anger and anxiety.
She gave me a chart to fill out that had space for me to write my thoughts and emotions down, and also what I would eat during those times. It's amazing how an objective opinion can shed such light in a dark place. I obviously saw that when I listed specifically feeling out of control or stressed out, I ate. I ate an entire large pizza in one sitting before.
It wasn't just the out-of-control feelings that contributed to the eating disorder. Getting diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes comes with an assurance of developing at least some sort of food psychosis, since you are forced to be obsessed with it. You write it down, you do calculations, attend carbohydrate counting classes, and plan your entire day and sometimes week around what foods you will eat and what foods you will have to avoid at whatever social events you'll be attending that week.
...
She gave me some of the most practical advice I've ever gotten: park your car in the back of the parking lot to avoid extra stress of finding a parking space and to get the extra exercise.
Four years later, that is the thing I truly gleaned from those sessions and I still put it into practice. You will see my car in the far, back, left corner of any parking lot.
There were a myriad of other issues that were not unearthed until recently (2011) due to the abrupt ending of my sessions. My dad was very unhappy about me going to therapy. I hadn't told him in hopes that he wouldn't find out. I forgot about insurance and I didn't understand how it worked at the time and that he would be getting the bill in the mail. I thought I just paid the copay and that was it.
He was furious with me for going to a therapist, which makes him seem like a villain but I'll explain in just a minute how he redeemed himself. I tried to explain to him in his own language that it isn't easy going to college and taking 20 hours a quarter, while working and having an illness that was becoming impossible to manage.
He always thought I should have been able to hold a full-time job and go to school over-time, and I probably could have if it hadn't been for Diabetes coupled with psychological issues. But, despite the many trials the former have brought me, I have to trust that there is some reason for it all.
...
In 2008 he was diagnosed with stomach cancer. He called to tell me the day before he was having surgery to remove the tumor. Luckily, I got to the hospital in time to sit with him before he went in.
I sat with my step-mom for the afternoon while we waited, and at the end of the day we got a call that he had been taken to the ICU.
When they finally let us in to see him, he told me how glad he was that I was there, and I told him, "Of course I'm here." He looked at me and said, "I wouldn't have come", and I knew what he meant.
I eventually had to leave him at the hospital to come back home. We had a lot of phone conversations that never thought we'd have. He told me how brave I had been when I was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes, and that now he understood what it was like. I knew that he had always been angry at himself for not being able to give me everything. He even told me that he wished that when he was a little boy that he had grown up in a loving home with stable parents, and he had wished that for me too. He would go on about a childhood he imagined and hoped for but never existed. He told me how much he loved lizards. It's amazing how things a 54-year old man never uttered since childhood come out when he's dying.
So, in summary, I loved my dad the most, no matter how terrible it sounds. He was always my favorite even in the worst of times. RIP, Dad.
...
In the midst of counseling and attempting an exclusive relationship with Casey Samuel, I still hung around with guys from time-to-time. My only real girlfriends were my roommate and my friend Stephanie from Y.W.A.M., who had just recently moved to Ohio from Minnesota. I never met people who just moved to Ohio because they really wanted to, so the ministry she moved there for must have been pretty amazing.
...
Also in the midst of the madness, one day I made the giant mistake of hanging out with a really eccentric Indian guy that I knew from my old days of working at Steak 'n' Shake and had reconnected with him at Cracker Barrel. I think I was drawn to him for the above reasons (Eccentric, Indian) but looking back it wasn't in a good way. He was raised Hindu but had done a radical conversion to Catholicism since I'd seen him at Steak 'n' Shake sulking in the booths after his drunken carousals at the local bar.
When I had known him at Steak 'n' Shake I was in my evangelical prime. He would come in, the most depressed individual I would see on a daily basis, and I would try to tell him about God. He was pretty closed to the subject, until one day when he brought in a mini-Bible. He looked like a mad-scientist. His hair was a bit long and flared on either side, accentuating that mad-scientist look. He was overweight and wore baggy clothes with hemp necklaces.
Somewhere in between those Steak 'n' Shake times and his conversion to Catholicism, he became obsessed with his diet and had lost all of his excess weight, becoming quite buff. He was also a musician and put out an album under the name Thomas Brim (not even close to his real name) which featured him on the front cover, completely nude, with a fig leaf covering his nether-regions.
Upon our reconnection at Cracker Barrel, we made plans to go out for coffee so that we could debate Catholicism vs. Christianity in a good way (I'm not against Catholicism but he is very convinced that is the only way). I'm going to admit right now that he was much more intelligent than me on his subject, so he probably won the debate.
Our next outing was my giant mistake.
He took me to a Comic Book Store and then to get his hair cut, and while I sat and waited he had me reading a C.S. Lewis book, but not one of the easy ones, one of the ones that modern Englishers would need a dictionary from 1850 to understand. After his hair cut he needed to go back to his house for something, and decided when we were there that he needed to shower and I waited in his room and watched TV. Doesn't sound like a good idea, right? Well, it wasn't. Apparently this man had no shame about his nudity, because instead of getting dressed while in the bathroom, he walked past his room stark naked and into the next room! No shame people! I tried to act like it didn't bother me since I didn't see everything, and then we rode in his car to the mall where my car had been. We were in Forever 21 when he looked at me and said he was "really sorry" and just left. I think he probably went to his church for confession. Weird things happened in Ohio. That was by far one of the strangest days I've ever had and I had to apologize to Casey Samuel for being so foolish as to spend time alone with other males.
...
At some point during class with the mind-gaming professor, the eccentric Indian, working at Cracker Barrel, quitting Cracker Barrel, and attending therapy sessions, I decided that I needed to go back to North Carolina for a long visit. We hadn't spent enough time together to come to any reasonable conclusion about our relationship, so I decided to go back for 10 days, which I deemed long enough to get used to each other. During that trip I'd decide if it was time to end it or time to get hitched. Basically, it was now or never.
Since I had quit Cracker Barrel, I decided that now was the best time for me to go out and look for a new job. I wouldn't graduate college until the Summer quarter, so I knew I'd have to stick it out at another restaurant for a while. So, I picked my favorite place: First Watch.
I actually got an interview (which according the Manager, they don't just interview anyone. I was regretting my decision while sitting in the booth, trying to look this crazed breakfast maniac in the eyes as he asked me questions like, "Why are you passionate about First Watch?" "What is Customer Service to you?" Then I listened while he gave me a huge speech on the honor of working at First Watch.
I ended up getting the job.
...
And of course, what else happens when you're about to decide whether or not to marry someone? Your most recent ex-boyfriend makes one last surprise appearance.
Remember Military Guy? Welp, he was back. Well, at least over the phone. He called me one afternoon while I was in my apartment doing some cleaning, at a most unsuspected moment. I was surprised to see his number on my phone, and thought it suspicious that he was calling me seeing as how he was now married to his baby's mother and I hadn't heard from him in months. I answered.
It started off with curious small talk. As we talked, he started talking about all of the good times we'd had and that we could have them again. He told me that his wife was out of town, and offered to fly me out there for the weekend. He wanted me to relive what was lost, and was offering the idea that maybe it could still work out, maybe he'd made a mistake.
Although it sounds crazy, it wasn't an irrational or emotional conversation. We talked about our relationship and how it had ended badly. He admitted to me that he was in therapy, and we both thought it interesting that we were both in the same place in that regard. He asked me if I still loved him again, and I told him that I probably did and probably would for a long time, but that I was moving on and it was too late for anything to be salvaged between us. I think he agreed.
Despite his wrong actions in Iraq, I actually have no bitterness towards him whatsoever and can see why he did what he did. Truthfully, I think I owe him an apology for never making a commitment and stringing him along according to my ups-and-downs.
I have fond memories of Colorado.
...
Spring was just beginning and I had rediscovered the magic of Chipotle. Not bound by the eating disorder since my therapy sessions, I felt free to go there and order whatever I wanted. I made their guacamole, chips, and burrito bowl a ritual.
The outage started at the end of February, and was over by the beginning of April. In short, the outage is the annual event of shutting down one of two Nuclear Reactor to do maintenance and all of the Nuclear Plant employees work overtime of about 72 hours/week, meaning that I would not be seeing him in March. His job that year was Firewatch, the worst job of the outage. The Firewatch Crew stands within 20 feet of the job in the Reactor Building, armed with a fire extinguisher, just in case a fire starts. The worst part of this job is that Firewatchers only go into the Reactor Building if there is work to be done, and typically there wasn't. They spent 12 hours a day waiting for something to happen in a small room, shoved in like silent cattle.
...
We still talked on the phone, but to compensate for the lack of visits he sent me a package that I received just before going to my History 101 class, which I had put off until my Senior Year of college. Inside of the box were magnets with words that meant something special to us that I could arrange into different phrases. There was also a CD inside and I brought it with me for my ride to class. The first song started, one I'd never heard before. The words went like this:
Love is all around you now so take a hold Hidden in our words It sometimes ain't enough Don't suffocate day after day It's building up Cause when you're feeling weak You know I'm strong enough
Just one more day One more day
Oh, let the world crash Love can take it Oh, let the world come crashing down Oh, let the world crash Love can take it Love can take a little Love can give a little more
Love is indestructible So take a hold Sometimes hard to find A reason good enough I'll stand beside you Never leave through it all And faith will bring a way To the impossible
It was the first warm night of Spring (in Ohio that means like, 45 degrees), and as I took in the words I found myself having butterflies in my stomach and feeling the peace of God coming over me and I felt exhilarated. The gardenias hadn't quite been enough, but there was a revelation in that song in the line, "Love is indestructible, so take a hold. Sometimes hard to find a reason good enough." I knew I would be idiot to not marry that man as soon as possible, and I think I actually said those exact words out loud to myself as I drove to class. ...
So, in conclusion, I went to North Carolina after his outage was over. I already knew I was going to marry him, and he knew that he was going to marry me. It was a wonderful 10 days.
He proposed to me on a tennis court with just the two of us (I have been a tennis player since childhood though never quite fit the stereotype)on April 11th 2007.
After our engagement we went back to what would soon be our double-wide and talked for about 30 minutes about having a wedding in August. I envisioned myself slaving at yet another restaurant and having the crazed breakfast maniac looming over me, and I quickly changed my mind and suggested we have the wedding in 2 and a 1/2 weeks on April 28th. He agreed most adamantly and everything got very exciting all of a sudden.
I figured my mom would be okay with it; she would just be concerned that she wouldn't be able to meet her lofty weight-loss goal in time. Everyone that we called was on board with the shotgun wedding. Seeing as how we'd known each other for such a short amount of time, I figured we'd have a handful of naysayers.
So, on April 28th, 2007, I married my Alter Ego, and we began our journey.
