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25 Years and Fanciful London Doors

Based on how old I feel, to be celebrating my 25th wedding anniversary I must've gotten married when I was 13.  In fact, if it wasn't the case the year following my silver anniversary I'll be celebrating my golden birthiversary, I'd swear it.

In lieu of exchanging gifts (and to take advantage of the closeish proximity of living in Germany), my husband and I decided to make memories.  In London.

I had no idea how much I'd love it.

I know for many people, London is at the top of their Travel Wish List; but for some reason, it wasn't on mine.  I'm not a Royal watcher, I didn't get up at dark-thirty for Kate and William's wedding (though I have to admit I watched Di's and Charles' back in the day), and I couldn't have cared less about seeing Big Ben or Westminster Abbey or the Tower Bridge.

What the heck was wrong with me?  It was frickinfrackin spectacular!

It only took a walk a few hundred yards from our hotel and I was smitten--London's Natural History Museum was ~that close~ followed by the Victoria and Albert then Hyde Park and Harrod's and Piccadilly Circus AND OHMYWORD WHYohWHY had I not been doing everything I could to get there?!

Ignorance, in this case, was not so bliss.  It was kinda stupid.

Anyways, in upcoming posts I'll share more of our sights, but for now a series of doors on a solitary street, somewhere between King's Cross Station (where Harry Potter would crash through Platform 9¾ to catch his train to Hogwarts) and the British Museum.  I was drawn to their color and whimsey, not just in the painting of wood but also in the patterned tiles leading to entry.  

 

Sometimes basic black isn't basic at all.

 

I absolutely LOVE the tile in this one, complimenting the coral door and avocado trim. And the yellow leaves need to remain there all year!

Checkerboard tile makes me wanna sit and play. Simple and striking.

Isn't it amazing how a subtle rotation of the squares turns this from checkerboard to houndstooth? J'adore!

Understated color; overstated tile or just right?

 

They've got sunshine...on a cloudy day...

 

This one conjured thoughts of Tin Man. It almost scared me as much as flying monkeys.

Again, basic and black and OH so beautiful!

Thanks to my friend Lisa for inspiring me to share something as simple as this.  The doors she photographed are much more diverse, likely because they weren't all located on the same street!  

If you have a favorite, shout it out in comments!

I'm curious if one is more popular than the others.

Wanna guess what mine is? 

 

Simple (?) Marriage Advice

Though my niche at Simple Mom is parenting teenagers, Tsh extended freedom to her contributors to deviate from our typical topics while she is on break this summer. I decided to take advantage of her offer, with one caveat:

This post isn't for all readers; it's written for those who are married.

Single moms, you are loved; this is no slight!  I know yours is a difficult, challenging road, having glimpsed single motherhood during a six-week work separation for me and my husband.

But this post is revised from a letter I wrote to encourage and advise young married moms, for the original Mother Letters Project.

It's direct and candid, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm a little nervous to publish it here. But based on the previous response from women and men, it's a message that could benefit at least a few of you in this broader audience.

To you, my dear mama friends ~

Have I piqued your interest?  Please continue reading
Simple (?) Marriage Advice by clicking here.
 Based on comments not everyone agrees with my thoughts and I always enjoy the differences in perspective.... :)

Trust ~ 5-minute Friday

trust noun \ˈtrəst\

1 a: assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something.  b: one in which confidence is placed
2 a: dependence on something future or contingent; hope

Quick - Who are the people and/or what are the things that you trust with 100% assurance?  I only have five minutes to write, so you only have five minutes to answer.

My first thoughts ~

I can rely on the character, ability and strength of my husband, all of which have been demonstrated in great measure during the weeks leading up to our move.

I'm confident in the unconditional love of my children, resilient, forgiving and sure.

My sister is my biggest cheerleader.

When I sit in a chair I'm certain it will do its job.

When I drive down the road I'm hopeful others will also do what they're supposed to do.

When I surrender to a plane for an eight-hour flight, my trust is evidenced by the fact I. get. on. that. plane. ~ in spite of my wary and anxious feelings.

My belief in God has little to do with what I think, nothing to do with what I feel, nothing to do with what I've done (or will do) but completely in what He has already done and will do.  And because of that belief, regardless of my circumstance (good or bad, especially the bad), God is using my life's circumstances for my good, His glory, and as part of His Kingdom work. 

And I thought of Casting Crown's Mark Hall's refrain to Voice of Truth ~

The voice of truth tells me a different story
The voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!"
And the voice of truth says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I would choose to listen and believe

What things come to your mind that you honest-to-goodness fully trust?

* * * * * *

Submitted for Lisa Jo's weekly Five-minute Friday writing prompt.

What you do 12 days before you move to Germany...

Tick tick tick...

Can you hear it? Because I do, and it's loud and relentless....

Time. Ticking. Away.

My life as I know it will monumentally change 12 days from now and I am feeling its enormity.

After 19 years in the paper industry, my husband is changing careers. He's leaving a dying industry to become part of a growth industry, joining a company that manufactures, among other things, hyper pure polysilicon.

Which tells 99% of you absolutely nothing, eh?

The simplest explanation is it's used in solar panels and microelectronics, and the plant here is sold out through 2015 although it won't even open for production until 2013.  

Which is why MY life is changing:  Tad's training will take place in Germany while their local facility is under construction. 

Somebody scream!!!

Ummm, wait...I just did....

So, on January 31 I will join him for about nine weeks as he makes the transition to Burghausen, Bavaria; our boys will stay home under the care of family and close friends.  I'll return in April to finish out the school year with them; Tad will make his first trip home in May, and then we'll all go back for the Summer while friends house sit.  What happens next school year is still undecided; Thomas will be a senior and that complicates decision-making.  

What I DO know is this opportunity is a precious gift on multiple levels; when I allow myself space to contemplate that aspect, I can barely maintain composure--

• Tad has had his eyes open for the right opportunity for a number of years; this position allows us to remain in the place my children consider home, less than an hour away from my daughter's college.
• The opportunity for travel throughout Europe while we have a home base there is INSANE!  Burghausen is on the Austrian border near where The Sound of Music was filmed.  DO YOU REMEMBER HOW BEAUTIFUL THE AREA IS?!  We'll be 80 miles east of Munich, within driving distance (or a train ride or cheap flight) of Italy, France, Switzerland, the Czech Republic, Belgium, Luxembourg, Spain, the UK.  

I will gladly give up food for travel.  Lose weight + see the world = WINWIN

• We'll get to reunite with my first cousin who lives about three hours away. She's lived in Germany over 20 years; I cannot believe our placement is so near, allowing us to get to know each other as adults.  
• Personal development.  We're going to be immersed in a new culture in a far-away country, challenged to learn a new language.  I'd say the odds are good we'll come back different human beings.
• Intercultural awareness.  I cannot wait to break the barriers of preconceived notions and stereotypes as we experience the truth that people are just people, the geography is just different.  Plus, we get to act as unofficial U.S. Ambassadors; for some, we'll be the only Americans they ever meet!
• Metric.  I'll finally learn it.  Do you realize the United States is the only country in the WORLD (with tiny exception-I-can't-remember-right-now) that uses Imperial measurement?  WTheck is wrong with us?  
• Professional development.  For Tad...he's a great manager of people and processes and I'm over-the-top THRILLED for this opportunity for him work for a 21st Century company.  
• Moving beyond comfort.  Without going into detail, I've lived in a spiritual desert for a long, long while.  But all the while I've had a sense of peace, believing in spite of my doubt or drought or whatever, that God was accomplishing a work of His choosing in me.  Over the past several months he's begun to awaken me from my spiritual slumber, gifting me with a desire to worship Him and read His word, which I assure you, is a gargantuan shift.  The timing of this job thing coincides perfectly; to move me out of my comfort zone and beyond the familiar...well...I have a sense that what has come before has prepared me for what lies ahead.  I have no idea what that means, but my soul, she's a'stirrin', with expectation and anticipation.

So.  What do you do 12 days before you move to Germany?  

You pack up everything you think you'll need to live in an apartment a quarter of the size of your current house.  It's a guessing game you hope you're close to winning.  

You obsess over the illogical.  Because my friend Neal (who works for a German company and has traveled there often over the past 20 years) told me to prepare for my trip by using sandpaper to wipe, my current obsession is toilet paper.  I've bought 48 rolls so the boys will be taken care of, and the same amount for me and Tad.   I also keep binge-buying snacks for their lunches.  

You realize you aren't moving to a Third World Country and they actually have super markets, but you can't stop worrying about freakin' toilet paper.

You start talking on the phone for the first time in years. Mercy...I forgot they worked for something other than texting and taking pictures!

You squeeze in good-bye visits but suddenly realize you haven't done a good enough job of planning that kind of thing.

You finally work on your New Year's letter, having forgone Christmas cards because you knew this was coming in January, to let everyone who doesn't read your blog know what's going on.  You can't afford that number of stamps.

Every time you look at your kids, you look at your kids.  You have eyes to see what was formerly imperceptible, and your heart floats to the center of your throat and you can't speak or you'll fall apart.  

s n i f f ...

I'm sure much of my writing over the next year will involve sharing our experience with those who care to follow.  But, I also plan to finally finish my parenting series, and I'll continue writing for (in)courage, Simple Mom and Therapon, and curate great content for Story Bleed.  I'll also continue writing for Vicks VapoRub through March...it is the cough and cold season, after all.

If you have interest in following our Bavarian adventure, now would be a great time to subscribe in a reader or by email; it would mean a lot to me to know you're virtually holding my hand, praying for us before and during Tad's assignment.  When I'm with him, I'll be homesick for my babies; when I'm with the children, I'll be missin' Tad something awful.  When we're altogether we'll probably be clawing each other's eyes out.

Just sayin'.

Feel free to chime in with your thoughts on where we need to go and what we need to see; I'm working on our European Bucket List and we'd love to learn from your wisdom and experience!

Related posts:

The Year of Living Dangerously

Clues that led up to our news

 

The Year of Living Dangerously

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
~ Helen Keller

She’s looking me dead in the eyes when she speaks, a gaze so deeply penetrating its intensity makes me want to look away…but I can’t.

“God is getting ready to do a work in you not possible when you’re living in your comfort zone,” she tells me when I confide my secret.  And to my concerns she says, “And He’s going to meet your husband and turn him inside out when he’s alone and questioning what in the world he’s doing.”

She speaks with such conviction and great assurance ~ a relative stranger! ~ but I want to believe her.  I do believe her. You see,

my husband and I have learned it’s not in the easy times we’ve grown spiritually, it’s during those difficult seasons of struggle…

…when we want to go back to “Egypt,” to the familiar; not because we liked it but because we knew what to expect.

At mid-life, an adventure has been given to us, a door not merely opened but flung off the hinges, and our only response is to step into the unknown.

I explain the rest of the story in today's (in)courage post, where I tie together the threads of this week's seemingly random clues.

The prettiest ugly sweater of them all and a testimony to love

It was a Christmas gift to my husband the first year we were married, discovered under a pile of marked down sweaters at the Pawleys Island Men's Shop, circa 1987. I thought it was a wonderful gift.  I knew he needed a larger size, but I liked it so much I vowed never to dry it so it wouldn't shrink.  God love him, the man wore it at least once in spite of the snug fit.

Don't let her expression fool you--she and I fight over it now; I just don't think our motives are the same.

After my recent fashion post and now this, you're dying to go shopping with me, no?

:)

The princess and the veil: a modern-day fairytale

Once upon a time there was a girl and a boy.

His face is all boy when he looks at her--twinkling eyes that belie his age and lips that curl in mischievous affection.  It doesn't matter whether anyone else is in the room; he's laser-focused on his bride.

At 71, he still buys her perfume and lingerie.  And she uses it...for him.

She's steel magnolia, Southern, feminine, strong and beautiful, and she could cook a a feast blindfolded with an arm tied behind her back.  She's coy when asked if he's the only man she's ever kissed; he's confident he is but I'm left with a shred of doubt.

She was the May Queen, after all.

Regardless, there's no question she only has eyes for him.  Over 50 years wed and they still hold hands when they walk.

Their courtship began at 14, six years later they married.  They were practically babies.  

Their family eventually grew four boys strong and many years later I would marry their first born.

* * * * *

For some reason, he decided to travel back in time the other day, a trip to the attic.

When he finally returns to the present, he brings an armload of memories.  Her wedding dress...some other things that spurred recollection.  And her veil.  

I find it on a chest in their den, an accessory that tells a story.

Hairpin still tangled in tulle touches me.  There's a sweetness to this sliver of neglect that stirs questions as to "Why?"  I can't help but silently giggle at the thought of Sarah in a rush to honeymoon.  After six years of dating, I think she was as ready as he was!  

Hand-beaded pearls, delicate lace, fashionable 40s styling--exquisite.  

"Designed by Miss Lillian for Vogue Bridals" leaves me curious who Miss Lillian is?  Was she a Vera Wang of her day?  Should I know who she is?

 

In the Christian tradition, the bridal veil represents modesty and purity; yes, this is perfect.

The netting for her headpiece is long gone.  "I didn't know you could preserve it," she tells me, "but we wouldn't have had the money even if I had known."  It's a lament, but I find her veil more beautiful because of its aging.  Almost 51 years separate the then and the now, and these tatters and touches of time symbolize the years lived in the in-between.  

Age is the price we pay for life...and it's worth it!

Sarah means "princess"--oh, how it suits her.

Her prince would agree.

 

 

 

And they're still living happily ever after.

xo

Sometimes sex begins with breakfast...?!

In the same way "A kiss is a kiss and sometimes it's more," sometimes breakfast is breakfast and sometimes it's...

the beginning of good things to come...!

Husbands:  Having been married a loooong time when surprises are few and far between, I can say that it's the little things--a heartfelt, unexpected compliment, a bouquet of her favorite flowers (she won't care they came from the grocery store), or even breakfast in bed--that make a difference in the everyday of marriage. Surprise your wife with a little something special with no expectation for anything in return.  

(But you'll probably get "paybacks" anyway. ;) )

Oh, and if you do decide to make her breakfast?  Brownie points earned for:

• Finding a tray
• Knowing what she likes to drink (in my case, since I'm complicated, I usually require more to drink than to eat...milk, OJ and coffee)
• Including a napkin
• Knowing and taking care of her quirks.

Move over, Dr. Ruth...I think you've got some competition...!

 

The New Year's Eve Miracle

I had almost given up hope of ever finding it.  

Almost.  

It had been three years since I could account for its whereabouts after all.  Yet dim and hidden away in the farthest corner of my heart glimmered a tiny, inextinguishable spark of hope.  

Hope is what compelled me to sift loathsome vacuum cleaner bags when I realized it was missing...

Hope prompted me to dig deep into sofa and chair cushions, as recent as last week...

Hope begged me to revisit places I had checked a dozen times....  

My loss represented eternity, everlasting love, and though the Doubter in me knew it was gone, the Believer couldn't let go.

 

* * * * * * 

It was an anniversary gift from my husband, a rare surprise to me on our tenth, and I was impressed he even knew they existed. We aren't extravagant gift givers and this was costly and thoughtful and perfect:  a band of gold embedded with diamonds, representing ten years of marriage.  An eternity ring.  In fairy script engraved within its inner ring, careful eyes might discover our wedding date.

 

* * * * * *

My husband is observant.  If I were the type wife who bought clothes and hid them in my closet, he's the one in a thousand who would ask THE DAY I BOUGHT IT, "When did you get that?"  

I dreaded the day he would notice I wasn't wearing my eternity ring.

 

* * * * * *

It was on our 20th anniversary that Tad surprised me with a trip to a local jeweler to have my rings reset.  I rarely wear gold jewelry anymore, but my wedding band and engagement and eternity rings were set in yellow gold.  His gift was to have them reset in white gold, or if we could afford it, platinum. We spoke with a salesperson, looked at several different options, then he took measurements of my stones.  I was eager and excited to have this done--the new setting was going to be gorgeous!  He promised to call us within a week to give us an estimate.  I crossed my fingers the platinum setting would be in reach, though I expected white gold would have to do.

In the end, neither mattered.  

We never heard from him again.

 

* * * * * *

 

Initially I was angry and offended the jeweler didn't bother to follow-up with an estimate; but eventually the money we would have used for that went towards something else.  I have no idea what now, but with three kids and a declining economy, it's not difficult to imagine the money was spent on something we needed rather than on this lovely indulgence.  

Tad's thought still counted.

 

* * * * * *

 

A dish sits on my kitchen counter, a gift my daughter painted years ago.  It's salmon and turquoise and cornflower blue and doesn't match a blasted thing, but the mama-heart sees only beauty.  It's what holds my rings while I'm cooking or cleaning--I can't stand to do either with them on.  

Around the time of our wedding anniversary last year, I was cooking dinner.  Tad picked up one of my rings and observed out loud, "I can't believe you've had your rings for over 23 years...as much jewelry as you've lost, it's amazing you've held onto these!"

Cringing, all I could manage in reply was a muttered, "Yeah, I know..." but I couldn't raise my eyes to meet his.  I knew I was finally busted!  

But he didn't remember.  Somehow, he forgot about my ring and didn't even notice it was missing.

I was a tiny bit hurt but mostly relieved.

I looked for it again the next day.

 

* * * * * *

 

2010 my body rebelled against me.  Though I'm not eating more, metabolism has slowed and my shape is changing and the pounds add too easily.  My clothes scream at me when I zip and button.  

I hate it.

I'm not exercising regularly and I know I need to for a host of reasons, but I've never found that thing I love.  Still, yesterday--on New Year's Eve--I decided to do something, cause I believe something is better than nothing.

I ran my stairs 20 times, furious that that made me so breathless, so easily.  After that, I began a series of basics--sit ups and push ups and lunges, baby steps to get me started.  To strengthen my core, I assumed the plank position.

I was in my bedroom.

 

* * * * * * *

Barely 20 seconds in, I glanced to my left and saw something under the foot of my bed, a small brassy ring.  I stared in disbelief not wanting to raise hope but unavoidably, hopefully, thinking it couldn't be...c o u l d  i t?

I held position for a minute, then reached out to finger the ring.  It rolled to one side and I saw...

...diamonds.

My insides exploded, my spirit happy danced and joy-flooded tears filled my eyes.  

It fit more beautifully than Cinderella's glass slipper.

To be continued....

 

 

 

A kiss is a kiss and sometimes it's more...

Our closet is the modest walk-in variety, small by middle-America standards but obscene if I compare it beyond our back yard.  I prefer not thinking about either.  

I'm hanging a pair of jeans when I feel his presence before I hear him.  It's crowded when two are standing inside and I hurry to get out of his way.  

But I'm not in his way, I'm the reason he stepped inside.  I realize this as he blocks my exit and wraps his arms around me.   

He kisses me softly but I back up and run my tongue over my teeth, not having taken time to brush my teeth after lunch. "Does anyone brush their teeth after lunch?" I wonder, and then I wonder if I'm the only person on the planet who considers thoughts like these.

I find some remnant of chili between teeth, dislodge it and swallow.  "N i c e ..." he says and I fling back "Well, I don't think that's the kinda thing you're after," and we laugh at the contrast between his gesture of affection and mine, the opposite of sexy, and I think this...this is a picture of marriage...

...well-worn marriage,

...decades-long marriage,

...marriage grown comfortable and familiar and tested, with occasional flashes of brilliance found in falling stars and unbrushed teeth.  

He kisses me again and I taste hunger and he says "I'm so glad that after 23 years I still like to kiss my wife," and I remind him we've been kissing for 28 years if you count dating.  Then he says some more things that would make my children blow chunks if I shared them out loud but give me reason to smile.  I wiggle closer.

But then he lets go of me and I start on the next load of laundry and the moment is history.

And that, my young married friends is a spectacular lesson in foreplay.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Here for the first time?  I hope it's not your last!  Thanks for your visit, and if you're inclined, I'd love for you to subscribe via email or in a reader and follow me on Twitter.  And, don't be shy--let me know you stopped by in comments :).