July twenty-ninth.

There are two significant events that have occurred on July 29th for Kyle and I.  They might sound silly, but they were very important to us at the time.  The date will never roll around with me thinking about them.

July 29, 2006.  Kyle picked me up in Gatlinburg, TN after I had been gone for two months working as a missionary in the Smokies.  That was a long, hard, blessed summer.  Reading this old post  reminds me of just how challenging it was, made more challenging by my excitement about getting married at the end of it!

Finally, July 29th came.  My man was on the doorstep of that mountain cabin and he was taking me home!  Two weeks after he picked me up, we were married in Springfield, IL.

Fast forward to July 29, 2010.  After being married and living in southern Illinois for four years, Kyle finished his very last day working for the Southern Illinois Miners.  In May of 2010, we moved all our belongings to Saint Louis, MO, where I was beginning graduate school.  Kyle stayed with his parents IL for two months to keep working until he started law school in August.  Again, we had been living apart all summer, and on July 29th we were together again!  That was another hard summer, and one I would very much like to never repeat.

This July 29th is not nearly as eventful.  I just finished my last summer of classes (291 days till graduation!), and Kyle is working until 5 (working, by the way, for a firm he loves).  All in all it has been a pretty great, normal day.  Sometimes the ordinary is extraordinary.

Long days

In high school I used to wake up around 6:30am, shower, do my hair and makeup, and often would have to be at school by 7:30 for jazz band practice or some other club meeting.  I would then go to class until 3pm, followed by either some kind of sports practice or going to work.  Then I would rush home (or to Subway), grab a bite to eat, and go back to the school for play practice where I would stay until 9 or 10pm.  After that I would go home, do homework, go to bed, and then get up and do it all over again. 

I never thought a thing about it.  I never felt fatigued or overworked.  I loved all my extra-curricular activities and I didn't dread school.  I didn't complain about going to work or practicing sports.  I just did it, mostly with joy.

Somewhere between then and now, something has changed.  I don't know if it's laziness, old age, or a change in responsibilities, but now I feel so tired and emotionally drained at the end of every day.  I get up later, get home earlier, and have way fewer extra things happening outside of school.  Why do I feel so much more tired?   Why do I feel so much more pressure and get so depressed about my life?

Perhaps then I didn't know any better.  By that, I mean, perhaps I was so busy and put my nose to the grindstone so much that I didn't have time to feel tired or defeated.  Sure, I still had bad days back then, lots of them... but looking back I can't ever remember feeling the way I do now at the end of the day.  I can't remember crying over all the stress or shutting down and doing nothing because I was just too overwhelmed.  

Maybe it's because I bear more scars now than I did back then.  Life happens, and inevitably you go through hard things.  I went through hard things then, too, with friends, family, and boyfriends, but now I feel as though things are so much heavier.  This is sad because the truth is that my burden is light because of Jesus.  I know that he is my redeemer and that I move forward in life because he made me his own.  I know this, and still I feel so weary. 

Maybe it's because I'm an adult and married and have to be responsible for so many things at home that I didn't before.  Maybe it's because school now includes more than just classes, but giving therapy to people who have a real need and will be impacted forever by how I help (or don't help) them.  Maybe it's just because I'm a graduate student and I won't feel this way so much when I'm finally out in the working world.  Maybe it's because I've lost sight of who I am in the sight of God and I don't live in a way that reflects my joy in knowing him.

I wish I had an answer for why things seem so much more difficult now.  Don't get me wrong; I still do fun things, and have friendships, and am madly in love with my hubs, but I'm praying that I can fight fatigue, laziness and anxiety, and press on with peace, joy, and confidence that God has called me to this specific place for a reason.  I want so badly to find joy in it because of that.  

I'd really like to know, am I the only one that feels this way?  Surely not.  Kyle and I talked about it and I know he's in the same boat as I am.  We both feel far more worn-down than people only in their mid-20s ought to be.  When you look back on younger days, do you wonder what happened, or are you still the same person you always were?  

One Year

Inspired by a blog friend, I decided it would be beneficial (for myself) to break down our year.

January:  We spent New Year's Eve at the Corson's house, and made brisket for friends on New Year's day.  I continued to nanny for the Horst chil'ins.  I began my last semester at SIU.  We completed our applications to law school and grad school.  The waiting game began.

February: We celebrated my birthday and Valentine's Day (or Birthentine's, if you're nasty) by going to St. Louis for the weekend.  We stayed at the Cheshire Lodge, had a date at The Fountain on Locust with our newish friends, Josh and Kim, visited the art museum, and discovered Gioia's Deli.  I spent the month wondering where in the heck God was going to send us or if we would stay in Carbondale for a few more years.

March: I spent the first half of the month anxiously awaiting news from graduate schools.  I started feeling like we weren't going to be staying in Carbondale and treasuring our time there.  Over Spring Break, I got my first acceptance, and it was to SLU!  I was at my grandma and grandpa's house when I got the email on my phone.  We all screamed and smiled and cried and jumped around the kitchen.  It was a really special moment.

April:  After three acceptances and two rejections for me, we were feeling like St. Louis was the place God was calling us, though all the details weren't exactly in place yet.  Kyle still hadn't heard from SLU Law (and a few other schools), but planned on just getting a job in the STL area and re-applying because we were so sure we were supposed to be there.  We had a marathon day of apartment searching, signed a lease, and the next week Kyle got his acceptance to SLU.  Crazy lessons about stepping out in faith were learned.

(I took not a single picture in the month of April.)

May: A month of celebrations and new beginnings.  Had a great celebratory night with classmates meowing around Carondale.  Graduated and moved to St. Louis on the same day with the help of many friends and family.  Started attending August Gate, where we knew we should go even though we'd never set foot in the doors.  Started graduate school at the end of the month, and began a painful summer of living away from Kyle while he finished up his job in So Ill.


June: A haze of school and loneliness and driving back and forth between STL and So Ill.  Oh, and threw a bridal shower for my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Hope.

July: A haze of school and loneliness and driving back and forth between STL and So Ill.  Oh, and threw a bridal shower for my dear friend, Ellen.  Then we both stood up with her and Bradley at the end of the month at their wedding.  It was our last hurrah in Carbondale.  Saying goodbye at the end of their reception left many of us in tears.

August: Kyle came home to Saint Louis for good!  We celebrated the end of a long, hard, lonely summer.  We got a puppy!  Celebrated 4 years of marriage.  When we first began praying about going on with school together, we just prayed we'd be in the same city.  God went further.  He put us in the same city, at the same school, and our buildings right next door to one another.  Unbelievable goodness and grace. No accident there!

September:  Traveled to Virginia to celebrate the wedding of our brother and sister, Kent and Hope.  It was fun to travel with family, and even more fun to gain a sister in the Bass family.  Went to school.


October: Really started making better friends at church and at school.  Praise God.  The summer was so lonely, even though friends at church reached out to me, I definitely was not myself then.  October finally clicked and I started feeling more like me.  School started getting harder on us, and it became very clear that our dog was really, really bad.  We knew he was our "Marley."  We hosted a Halloween party that seemed like a pretty big success, but we forgot to take pictures.


November: A haze of school and puppy-wrangling.  In John Mayer-fashion, I wonder if I am going to make it through to December.  I got to travel to Philadelphia for my first ASHA convention with classmates and faculty.  Spent Thanksgiving with Kyle's family in Anna.  Got to celebrate with Keith and Loni the night of their engagement.


December:  Completed our semesters by the grace of Jesus.  When the semester ended, we mostly spent our days at home wrangling our bad, bad dog, cooking, watching all the TV we missed during the semester, and enjoying each others' company.  Christmas in Springfield with my family.  As things slow down, the pain of infertility creeps back in as it always does when I'm not insanely busy.  As always, I'm ready for a new year and thankful for a God who is faithful and isn't done with us yet.

Eight Halloweens

We here in the Bass household are big fans of Halloween.  Over the years, we've had a lot of fun making our own costumes and going to parties with friends.  Here's a quick rundown of our past costumes.

Year 1:

We were supposed to be hippies, but I don't think it worked out very well. On a brighter note, this was the first picture we ever took together. We had been dating for approximately 10 days. We have now been together for over 7 years, that's approximately 2,500+ days.

Year 2:

A little more creative this year, and far more time to plan. We were the Crocodile Hunter and a crocodile. This picture is awful, but it's the only one I have. It doesn't do the costumes justice. I also wish you could hear Kyle's Aussie accent and hear my croc roar. I slithered on the ground. He narrated. We were so cool.

Year 3:

(no picture available)

I swear I had a picture of this, but I cannot find one. That year we were The Lion (played by our friend), The Witch (me), and the Wardrobe (Kyle). We made costumes and made the wardrobe out of a cardboard box, painted and complete with opening doors.

Year 4:

We were newlyweds. Okay, that's not a costume. The truth is, we were new to Carbondale and no one that we knew of had a Halloween party, so we didn't dress up. I was sad, to say the least. I do seem to remember, however, that we went to Steak n' Shake that night with Team Abner and Team Billingsley. They are always a good time.

Year 5:

The Corpse Bride and her groom from Tim Burton's "The Corpse Bride." We thought it was cute, but no one knew who we were supposed to be, with the exception of Team Abner.  Unfortunately, it took me approximately four days to wash all that blue hairspray out of my hair.  Sometimes if I look down, I still think I see a little blue.

Year 6:



One of the most fun. Mario and Luigi. We threw fireballs and jumped around all night with fake Italian accents.  What's more fun than a fake mustache and some homemade hats? I don't know.

Year 7:

The title of our costume that year was "My Better Half." We tore our clothes apart and sewed them back together. Kyle wore makeup and leggings. Need I say more?



In year 7, Halloween also coincided with Kyle's aunt's wedding, in which he was part of the wedding party. As the wedding party entered the reception they all wore masks and danced to Werewolves of London. That mask was sexy, what can I say?

Year 8:

TBA!

This year, as always, we are keeping it a secret. It's nothing too fancy (read= grad school prevents elaborate costume work) but it should still be fun!

What will YOU be for Halloween? I hope it's a happy one for you!

Used to...

I used to love being a hostess.  I loved entertaining people and cooking for people and trying to pretend I was a younger, hipper, poorer Martha Stewart.  It hit me today that I don't currently feel capable of doing this thing that I once loved so much.

I long to entertain and show hospitality.  I long for a clean house.  I long for the time to cook a meal.  I'm desperate for a chance to do some crafty things.  Currently, every room in my house is a complete disaster and neither Kyle nor I has the time or motivation to do anything about it.  Grad school hit hard this week in tandem with the start of my clinical assignment. 

I think it's only going to get crazier from here. I hope maybe we'll get into some sort of routine and all the daily things like taking care of the house, feeding ourselves, and taking care of the animals will find balance with all our school responsibilities.  I fear we won't be able to do that for two more years. 

My new friend, Whitney, has a great blog.  She's always updating on all the awesome things she finds and re-creates.  It makes me long for days gone by.  It reminds me of all the projects I have on the backburner.  All the pictures and paintings in my mind.  All the empty canvases.  All the half-completed sewing and knitting projects.  All the pieces of furniture that need a fresh coat of paint.  All the paint sitting in the closet waiting to be applied to said furniture.  All the bookmarked DIY projects.  All the empty picture frames just waiting to be filled, and all the pictures just waiting to be printed.  All the city thrift stores waiting to be perused. 

I really hope I get some time to catch up.  A day here and there to work on unfinished projects.  A consistently clean house.  A dog that doesn't require constant supervision.  A husband that isn't always holed up in the office studying for his own demanding program. 

I'm not feeling optimistic that all or any of these things will happen.  Sigh. 

I suppose that this is just where we are in life and we really should be grateful for the opportunity and the trials.  Easier said than done.

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1

How did I get here?

Sometimes when I look back over the last several years, I ask myself, "How did I get here?" When I started college at the University of Illinois in 2003, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I was just thrilled to be there, proud to be an Illini, and thought I'd figure it out soon. I honestly thought I'd just enjoy the adventure, and not worry about dating until I was done with college (I did more than enough dating in high school).

Then I met this guy. He was dreamy. We was wearing jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, and he had long, untamed hair with white streaks in it, and a beard, and the most electric blue eyes I'd ever seen, and he was carrying his dinner tray right across the dining hall. Then we talked. He loved Jesus and was genuinely sweet, and was one of the most intelligent people I'd ever met. Then it was over. Any expectations of what I thought college would be like were gone right out the window.

Three years later I married that man and we moved to Carbondale at the last minute where he got a job. I took a year off school to work. During that year, I realized that I did not want to get a degree in just anything and end up working at a bank forever, which I loathed. In those three years I was falling in love with Kyle at Illinois, I still never knew in what I wanted to major. I changed it 5 times. So, when I took a year off school, I did a lot of praying.

I kept hearing the answer, "speech-language pathology." I'd heard this before. The first time I felt led towards it was my sophomore year at Illinois. I quickly decided against it because I didn't want to go to school that long (4 years, plus 2 for a Master's). Well, if I had only obeyed that calling the first time, I would already be done with my master's by now. Anyway, I kept saying "no."

Finally, God changed my heart. I completely caved, and fell in love with my classes and the field. It's amazing what happens with just being obedient, and doing what you know you're supposed to do.

It has been seven years, and I am standing on the brink of graduation from Southern Illinois University. I still have two more years ahead to finish my Master's degree so I can actually get a job and practice, but I am excited for what's next in this wild ride.

It runs in the family.

The women in my family are notoriously good cooks. Both my grandmothers, my mom, my aunts, my cousins. I have big shoes to fill. I love to cook. I love good food (a little too much). I love the accolades that come my way when cooking something good for my family and friends. I love the subtle nurture that is inevitably tied to filling the bellies of the ones you love. It's a simple pleasure.

This summer I got to cook pies with my Grandma Johnson on the farm.



I love being on the farm.

It's warm and old and a little quirky.

Everyone knows Grandma Johnson (Grandma 'Nene to her grandchildren) makes the best pies. It was really nice to learn from her, but it was even nicer just to spend time with her.



I got to hear her tell stories about her childhood. She told me about the early years when she and my grandpa were married. She went with him while he served in the military. She stood by him through his dreams of owning a farm.



Nearly 6 decades, 5 children, 10 grandchildren, and 11 (and counting) great-grandchildren later, she is still standing by him.



We talked while we cooked. We learned about each others lives while we cooked. It was a beautiful thing. The pie was beautiful, too.

Some trends should stay dead.

I'm not sure what makes me more sad, the fact that acid-wash jeans are back in style, or the fact that I owned some (and loved them) in the early 90's. I hope this trend doesn't continue. Please, oh, please let it die quickly. No one really looks good in these things, right?

Old Music Tuesday: The Verve Pipe

Old Music Tuesday is a day to reflect on the music that shaped my childhood and early adolescence. As always, if you have a shared memory with a song or artist featured on OMT, please share it!

The Verve Pipe is another one of those lesser-known 90's bands. I cannot recall them having more than 1 or 2 hit songs. However, their hit song, "The Freshmen," seemed to move me. Looking back, I can't really imagine why it did. The lyrics (based on my interpretation) are about a girl who has an abortion and then kills herself.

I think at the time, I just felt the pain and the angst in the song. I had no clue what "stop a baby's breath" meant. It would have come out when I was in 6th grade, which was a rough year for me in many ways. It's still hard for me to think about that time. If there is such a thing as being "scarred for life," I suppose that's the closest I've come.

Perhaps that's why I liked the song so much. I could relate to having a bad experience, and being deeply affected by it. Even now that I know what the song is really about, it always takes me back to those bittersweet days. My scars were nothing like the girl in the song, but we significant to me.

Fortunately, I believe that Jesus heals all wounds, and makes hearts new. I praise God for that.

Why I really love to bake

Grandma taught me right. Once a bowl licker-
Always a bowl licker.
Kyle took this picture. He just thinks it's hilarious.

Harbaugh's

I realized this morning that after 2 1/2 years of living in Carbondale, I have never blogged about our favorite local spot, Harbaugh's Cafe. We have Chase and Alisha to thank for introducing us to this glorious culinary delight. One of the first weeks we attended our church, they invited us for lunch. We stumbled on over to some little place on a street that was kind of familiar and into the door of what looked to be a dive. We discovered quickly that Chase was a foodie, so when he said this place was good despite appearances pointing in the other direction, we believed him.

I ordered the first thing I saw on the menu, Viva la France, their own little twist on French Toast. Alisha ordered the same. Good sign. The decor is quirky and delightful. I began to look around and notice that there were some real characters in there. Waitresses wearing tutus, retired ol' country boys sipping coffee, college kids in who appeared to have rolled in wearing last night's bar clothes, and families in their Sunday best. Good food brings diversity, I thought. If this many different people have chosen to have their Sunday brunch here, I thought, it must be good.

And it was, oh, how it was. To this day, I've only ever ordered the Viva la France with Ranch Potatoes. It's so good that I can't bear the thought of going there and not eating it. Kyle, likewise, only ever orders the ham and mushroom Skillet. Perhaps we're not very adventurous, or perhaps those dishes have some sort of addictive properties.

If you're ever in Carbondale from 7am to 2pm on any given day, I would HIGHLY suggest you eat there. I don't think you'll regret it. Don't let the polka dots fool you, or the fact that the rest of the old building seems to be crumbling, this place is seriously good.
It's the kind of place to which you can wear pajama pants, and no one says anything or looks at you funny. Except, of course, for the crazy girl across the room who's taking pictures of you!What a delicious spread!
The Viva la France, you'll never want French Toast from anywhere else again. Trust me on this. If you like eating French Toast at Bob Evans, or if you think your mother's is great, by all means, DO NOT order this. You won't be able to go back.
The Skillet omelet. I don't really what it consists of. I'm too scared of mushrooms to even ask my husband. Let's just say, it has him in raptures, so that's good enough for me.
Please excuse our gluttony while we lick our plates clean.

Old Music Tuesday: Spacehog

Spacehog is a little known 90's band, and a one-hit-wonder, but one that I love. My biggest memories of this band come from the summer of '95.

It seems their hit song, "In the Meantime" was everywhere that summer. It played on the radio out of the garages while I ran from yard to yard with neighborhood friends. It played over the sound system at the roller skating rink. Most memorably, it played over and over while I lounged by the pool in our backyard.

It seems half my childhood was spent in a swimming pool. Until my family moved to Virden in 1998, we always lived in homes with pools, and I loved it. As soon as my mom got home from work, I would immediately ask to get in the pool. Weekends were all-day swimming bashes. I remember family visiting and everyone spending the day outside grilling and swimming. I terribly miss family swimming days.

Even now, I wish I lived closer to Springfield so we could spend summer days sitting by my mom's BEAUTIFUL pool. (Isn't it beautiful?) Maybe we could even listen to some Spacehog.

Old Music Tuesday: Mariah Carey

It is nearly impossible for me to think about my childhood without thinking of Mariah Carey. Her music was present in several stages. It all seems funny to me now that she's kind of trashy and cougar-y.

Seven songs made the list. Some are inseparable.

1, 2, & 3. Vision of Love, Someday, and Emotions- For a solid chunk of my childhood, I lived in the house that was built by my great-grandfather. My mom and stepdad bought it when I was about 7 (I think) from some other family. It was so neat to be in the house where my grandmother grew up, where my mother played as a child.

My mom spent a great deal of time remodeling the basement to make it a usable space. I spent so much time down there playing by myself. I can smell the damp, old den. I hung Christmas lights and plugged in my boom box and had dance parties alone. It seems like I would spend hours down there, and Mariah Carey was always a part of the party. I remember the beat-up cases for the two M.C. cassette tapes I had. I'd listen to one side, flip it over, switch tapes, and repeat. I had never heard anyone who could sing that high.

4. Dreamlover- At this point I was obsessed with Disney princess movies and the thought of a "dreamlover" to "come rescue me" sounded night. Now, from what he was rescuing me at the ripe old age of eight, I do not know. However, I distinctly remember dressing up in an old dress of my mothers that I had designated the "princess dress" and singing this song.

5, 6, & 7. Fantasy, Always Be My Baby, and One Sweet Day (ft. Boyz II Men)- I have tons of memories of the entire 1996 Daydream album, but I guess the one I find most amusing is from 5th grade. On a cold and rainy day, we stayed inside from recess. Fortunately for me, I remembered to bring my walkman and my new M.C. tape. Little did I know this would make me the most popular girl in the classroom for the day. I had several people around me, all taking turns listening to their favorite songs while we played Connect Four.

I owe it all to Laura Ingalls Wilder

Lately I've been thinking a lot about style. A frivolous line of thought, I'm sure. Nonetheless, it has captured my mind. I've not been thinking much about clothing style, but about the style of my home, about the way I want it to look and feel when people come in, about the way I feel when I'm there. The problem is, I have never been able to figure out what my style is. I've even taken quizzes that are supposed to help you figure out what your decorating style should be. They were inconclusive. I wasn't even "eclectic." I was just "unknown."

So lately I've been trying to refine my tastes. I've been trying to bring together elements of my life that I love and incorporate it into our home. It has been a challenge.

Over Christmas break, I discovered Anthroplogie at Woodfield Mall. Wow, was it perfect for me! I cannot think of a store I have ever loved more. I came out of there with a fresh perspective and tons of inspiration. When I came home, however, I was still having a hard time putting it all together... until tonight.

Tonight I had a self-revelation. Tonight I figured out what to call my style. I'm a modern girl with a prairie flare. It makes so much sense to me for so many reasons.

I could never decide as a child whether I liked living in town with my mom, or being in the country with my dad more. I have so many wonderful memories in both places. To this day, I cannot make up my mind.

I love the benefits of being in town, being close neighbors and friends, restaurants and places to go out; everything is at our fingertips. On the other hand, my heart swells to think of our family farm, acre upon acre of rich, black soil, green grass beneath my bare feet, gigantic, old oak trees, cows in the pasture, adventures in the woods with my cousins, and nothing but the sounds of nature for miles.

I've come to the conclusion that I want my home to be in town (or even a large city), but I still want that feeling I get when I am on the Johnson farm.

What does this all have to do with Laura Ingalls Wilder, you ask? I'll explain.

When I was very young, I did not like being at my dad's house. There were a number of reasons. Mostly, I think it is because I was bored. I had far more luxuries at my mother's house. All of my best toys were there. I had a pool. I had cable television, and a TV in my bedroom. I had air conditioning. I had sixty Barbies and tons of other dolls. I had dress-up clothes and my mother's perfume. I had a cat. I had my best friend, Erin, next door.

At some point between the ages of 9-11, however, my attitudes began to change. I can only attribute this change to the books I was reading at the time. I distinctly remember books becoming alive to me in 4th grade. I was reading The Secret Garden, Charlotte's Web, Anne of Green Gables, and most importantly, The Little House series.

As I opened the pages of Little House in the Big Woods, I no longer felt bored or unfortunate to be in the country, I felt blessed. I began to see all the adventure and opportunities for imagination that surrounded me. I put on my Little House outfit (a long flowery skirt and a bonnet) and began prancing through the yard. I remember bounding across the lawn with glee and shouting at my dad that I wished we had a covered wagon.

On our 36 acre farm there is a pond, two very old farmhouses (one with a secret stair case), several barns, beautiful gardens full of flowers and vegetables, hills that were, according to my older cousins, haunted by the ghosts of Indians, and so much more. If you cross the property line through the woods, you'll find an 19th century private cemetery that belonged to the family that originally built our farm.

I am so happy that I read those books. They truly helped me to appreciate the history and adventure that was beneath my feet. It was not until tonight that I realized how I am influenced by them to this day.

I can look around now and see that my home is some odd blend of my mother's more sophisticated taste, and the earthiness of the Johnson farm. I can look around and see that my taste is my own and that it doesn't have to fit the definitions of any design book. I owe it all to Laura.

"When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does." -Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan), You've Got Mail

Never-ending playlist

Growing up, music was so important to me. I never realized it at the time, but looking back, I can only imagine how different my childhood would have been without such a strong musical presence. Both of my parents were lovers of good music. They had tons of "old" records and "new" cassette tapes. My mother was always singing along in the car. She seemed to know the words to every song, old and new (I think Kyle would say I inherited this trait).

As an only child, I spent a lot of time alone either in the basement playing or in my room. No matter where I was, it seemed my boombox was always nearby. I was blessed that my parents supported the development of my own music tastes, even if they weren't into it. I had many tapes of my own and I would listen to them for hours.

Mom took me to my very first concert at the ripe old age of 7 to see M.C. Hammer at the Illinois State Fair. Did I mention that the concert was the night before the first day of school? Yeah, she was that awesome. It became a tradition that we saw at least one concert a year.

As a pre-teen, I remember that the music became more than just words and tunes; I actually began to feel the emotion of it. Heartbreak and unrequited love were the themes that I seemed to understand most clearly. In retrospect, I knew little of either, but that did not matter.

I had an idea to begin making a playlist of all of my favorite songs from ages 0-16. I quickly became overwhelmed by all the music, all the memories that came flooding into my mind. I decided to set a limit that the playlist could only contain radio hits. This helped narrow it down a bit, but it seems as though it will never really quit growing. I just keep hearing songs that must go on the list.

The odd thing to me is that for every song, there is a place, a person, or a deep emotion tied to it. Some of the songs aren't even that great, but the memories are so strong, I could not ignore them.

I decided that I need to write about it before I get too old and forget everything. So, I am starting a new tradition. I'm calling it "Old Music Tuesdays." Every Tuesday (well, most Tuesdays) I will feature a different artist, name the song or songs that made my list, and share the memories that are attached to each song.

I am very interested to see if others have memories tied to the same songs. I'll get things started in the morning.

Worlds Apart

... by Jars of Clay

I am the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all adds up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard to leave behind
To rid myself of all but love,
To give and die

To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loves
More deeply than the oceans,
More abundant than the tear
Of a world embracing every heartache

Can I be the one to sacrifice
Or grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow

To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees

All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I do not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me

Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
Because what I need and what I believe are worlds apart

And I pray,
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees

I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remains
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
The battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
And wash the feet and cleanse my pride
Take the selfish, take the weak,
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
The sin and soaked heart and make it yours
Take my world all apart
Take it now, take it now
And serve the ones that I despise
Speak the words I can't deny
Watch the world I used to love
Fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
So wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remain
So steal my heart and take the pain
Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
Take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
Take my world apart 

I've been listening to the Shane and Shane "Similar Artists" station on Pandora Radio. Let me tell you, it is great stuff! It's not fluffy or cheesy. This song takes me back to the first year Kyle and I were dating. We went to see Jars of Clay and Caedmon's Call at Assembly Hall. It was a great concert and we praised God together.

The song, "Worlds Apart" always breaks me, but hearing Kyle sing every word of it right next to me that night, I was in awe. I was in awe of Christ, and in awe of this amazing, godly man He had just put in my life. I had never seen Kyle filled with such passion, such worship. My world changed forever. Jesus changed everything about the direction of my life that year.

Tonight I sit even more in awe of Christ, and even more thankful for that amazing, godly man. Tonight I understand that when God takes my world apart, He does so in a way that only makes it better. To Him be all the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

Five Years Together

There are so many reasons I love this time of year the most. Five years ago this week, I started spending all my time with this wonderful man! Our first date was to a Barndance/Hay Ride with a group of friends. We square danced the night away. Kyle showed me some lesser known constellations in the clear, starry night, wrapped his arms around me in the chilly autumn air, and held my hand as we walked through the "haunted" woods. A week later, we went to a costume party at the BASIC House dressed in our thrift store "hippie" costumes.

I could never imagine how much I would love him five years later. I am so glad we get to do life together.

Feeling Sentimental

Maybe it's the lights on the tree. Maybe it's all the Hallmark movies. All I know is that it's been an emotional couple weeks for me. This time of year is a roller coaster for a lot of people. I'm unsure why that's so for me. For the three years Kyle and I were dating, I was always utterly devastated at the idea of leaving him for a month while we were on break from school. As of last year, my sadness was replaced with the pure joy of not having to part ways. I am so thankful for him and for the love God has given us to share. I get to share my life with this wonderful man!

I've been wrapping Christmas presents all day. I feel so grateful for all that we've been given and all that we can give. I am glad that we have a church and friends that remind us to keep a holy perspective this time of year.