not in part but the whole

I'm blown away by how loving, awesome, powerful and personal our God is. The cup of wrath which was mine to drink was drained by Jesus Christ. Every bitter drop.


And He blesses us still more. This spring, I've discovered gardening and I couldn't be more obsessed. I love learning new skills, and so many great minds have been coaching me this season. My birthday present was 2 adirondack chairs, and we have coffee in them most every morning. I love things that grow, and I love having a place to sit and take it in. We've also decided that our back yard is the perfect place for an Easter egg hunt (for our future/Lord willing/sometime children).

To top it all off, I get to spend my life with this guy - he finds time to be wonderful even while juggling 60+  hour work weeks and his MBA at Chicago Booth. Plus, he is a big dork with me :)


My sin (oh the bliss of this glorious thought!)
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord O my soul.


B

families are the best

Got to spend time with some of these fabulous people last weekend. Missing: one brother by name of Miles Eugene.

Tom hasn't quite mastered the art of fitting in (seriously - who stays in the exact same pose for a silly picture?!?). But we like him just the same.

Happy Monday.

B

afternoon escape

Let's talk exercise.

I've been trying to force myself to run for 10+ years and have never (ever) gotten the hang of it.  That natural 'high' and sense of accomplishment people claim they get after pounding the pavement? Garbage. I refuse to believe that anyone actually enjoys running. No matter how long, how paced, how well-practiced my run is, I hate every single, stupid second.

So what's a girl (who loves cooking with heavy cream and butter WAY too much) to do? Force herself to try any and every other form of exercise that comes her way. It was an exhausting and depressing endeavor until things drastically changed five months ago.

I've now permanently hung up (burned) my gym shoes, shorts and t-shirts. Now all I need is a towel, bottle of water, and just enough clothing to stay decent. What happened? I joined a Bikram yoga studio.

(Quick overview of Bikram--it's always the same 26 poses done in 90 minutes in a 105F heated room.  Humidity is usually somewhere between 35-50%. There are also periods of total stillness while your body re-energizes for the next posture. You've heard that variety is the spice of the exercising life, that you should always keep your body guessing by changing your workouts. Bikram takes the opposite approach - your body will constantly change so the practice needs to stay the same.)

I love it, so SO much!

Well, actually I hated it the first time so much I felt like crying. And I hated it the second time...and third time. And then - overnight - everything changed. My attitude, my energy level and my body completely rewired itself. A switch was flipped somewhere.

My instructors call Bikram a 'moving meditation', but that doesn't mean levitating or 'ohm-ing' the mind into oblivion. What it does mean is using every last drop of concentration in holding postures, keeping your balance and (above all) maintaining a steady breath. The benefits: cardio, strength training, core building, balance, flexibility, improvement of breath, metabolism booster, cold-killer, depression buster, etc etc.

(plus you get a hot bod just like this. tattoos not included)

Give it a good 3-4 tries before you decide whether or not you like it. Is it necessarily for everyone? Probably not; but I do know that my body responds very well (and very quickly) to yoga.

What I really want to try next is this:

Crazy, huh? But I'd give it a spin.

B

high living at the county fair

Maybe it’s because I’ve been so overwhelmed with the adult world.

Or perhaps it’s because my recent return to journaling has made me incredibly nostalgic…

Whatever the reason, I can confidently say that today is one of my favorite days of the year.

It’s the opening day of the county fair.

Why do I love the fair?

Because I can see it from the front yard of our new house.

Because I can talk to people who know chickens. And Jersey cows. Which is important, because we will someday have chickens, and a Jersey cow. And it’s never too early to start preparing.

Because I can disappear for hours at a time in the horse barn, fantasizing about my return to riding. Admittedly, I struggle with jealousy as I watch little kids prepare their horses for show. I hope they know how incredibly blessed they are. They say memories are most closely tied to your sense of smell; the smell of a horse barn moves me like nothing else.

Because I can spin myself nauseous on the craziest of rides.

Because of funnel cakes.

And because of cotton candy, my favorite food in the whole wide world. Look at this fatty – he’s with me.

Don't take my word for it;  take a trip down memory lane and listen to this sassy goose.

It’s refreshing to spend time with ‘normal’ people. By normal, I mean salt of the earth. And by salt of the earth, I mean people who appreciate honest living and simple pleasures (I’m not counting the completely different type of ‘earthy’ people found at the DMV and dog fights…). The wealth and sterility of the suburbs can be mind-numbingly exhausting. Give me greasy food and manure to cleanse the palate from Escalades, 2.3 kids and Jimmy Choo’s.

All this to say: After 3 years of St. Charles living, I’m happy to report that there are indeed places to find anti-suburban activity. They’ve been difficult to find, but so totally worth the effort.

And for the record, I’m not saying I’d turn down a pair of Jimmy Choo’s….

B