it's the end of the year, and what a year it's been.

Wow. 2011 has come and gone. What a year. Honestly, I start to tear up every time I think about it, because this year has been so full of change, growth and unexpected blessings. And my only conclusion, my only theme as I look back at this year is that God is so good. God is so good.

Last year at this time, Landon and I were just barely thinking about looking at grad school opportunities for Landon. We hadn't told anyone, but we would spend our nights researching and wondering and praying. We were both ready for a change. In January, we started applying to different places. Different schools, job opportunities and graduate assistantships as they came along. 

In mid-February, we were eating dinner at Air Thai (if you're ever in Lebanon, Oregon, be sure to stop for some pad thai!) when Landon got a phone call. He stepped outside to take it, and ended up missing the entire dinner, so I knew it must be important. It was a professor from Hardin-Simmons University. Landon had sent him an email the week before inquiring about a possible grad assistant position at HSU. From there, Landon was put in touch with the head track and cross country coach at HSU, and things started to fall into place. We waited another month or so to tell our families (partially based off of the philosophy in this TED talk, and not wanting to jinx ourselves), and I announced it on The Bright Life in early April. We were moving to Texas in May. 

We decided to only take one car and whatever we could fit inside. And fit we did. I sat on two blankets in the front seat, with one bag under my legs, one at my side and two on my lap. There was a lot of stress while we were packing, and a lot of, Are we really doing this?

The second night of our trip, we stopped for burgers just outside of Sacramento. We weren't in the restaurant more than 20 minutes, but when we got back to our car we found a shattered window and four missing bags. Our computer, our wedding video footage and my baby blanket, among other things, were all gone. 

Our Christmas Eve service this year was based on the idea of God's interruptions. That God's timing may not always make sense to us, but that His plan is always best. At one point, the question was posed, "How has God broken into your life this year?" It brought me to tears, because I think our break-in, in some ways, was actually God breaking in to remind us that He's in control. That we may spend hours, days, years accumulating things and memories, but they don't matter in comparison to His plan. 

We made it to Texas after over a week of traveling, and settled into our little house. The summer stretched us in many ways, but God's blessings were apparent in each challenging situation. We had to find a new church, so we visited the closest one to us. We were overwhelmed by how welcoming the church members were, and we continue to be blessed by our relationships there. We survived a summer of crazy hot temperatures, which made the fall and winter even more of a blessing. And we learned to rely on God, and not our bank account, because our bank account clearly wasn't going to sustain us. And again, God's blessings and provision carried us through. 

I have more joy and more of a sense of God's presence and plan than I ever have. I love, love, love seeing Landon pursue something that he has a passion for, and I really enjoy my job. I don't know what 2012 will bring, but I'll try to plan less and trust more, because God is so good.

Happy New Year!

xoxo.

channeling mister rogers.

Well, hello neighbors and happy Monday! I'm pretty excited about today's post, because it's full of  inspiration from the man himself: Fred Rogers. That's right, I'm going way back to elementary school, when things were simpler, neighborhoods seemed sweeter, and we were constantly reminded that we were special.

Inspired by the photos above, I put together some inspiration boards, in case you're looking to channel your inner neighborly self. You can click on any item to view the original source, but I'll post the links as well.

It's All in the Neighborhood
1. Classic Trolley
2. Collegiate Cardigan from Target.
3. Bennett Chino from J. Crew.
4. I'm Proud of You by Tim Madigan (read it, it had me sobbing).
5. Champion Organic Lace Up by Keds

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

1. Fisherman Sweater from J. Crew.

2. Neighbor Card by twopaperdolls on Etsy.

3. When a Pet Dies (by the man who knows our feelings the best).

4. Sweetheart Skinny Jeans from Old Navy.

5. Come on, Brogue Flats from ModCloth.

And when you really need a pick-up, watch this. 

xoxo.

sunday lovin: remembering.

Damon Winter/The New York Times

play time.

Story time! Last month, I told you about my dearest friend, Maryn. We go all the way back to 2nd grade, and I mentioned some of our sweet memories together in her birthday post. I also mentioned our KILLER play grocery store at the end of the post, but allow me to share the details today. 

When we were in elementary school, Maryn and I forced our families to save empty cereal boxes, food jars, cans, packaging and the like before we set up our place of business in her basement. It was AWESOME, and kept us entertained for hours. Just to give you a quick mental picture of our devotion to this place: our Christmas presents that year included an adding machine and price stickers. We did not mess around when it came to play time.

So yesterday, when Maryn sent me a link to this play grocery store (pictured), which, to be honest, puts ours to shame in the cuteness department, I had to share it. 

Adorable, right? See more photos here.

xoxo.

PS...199 followers?!? Who will be the lucky 200, I wonder?

PSS...In case you missed it, our wedding was featured on IHOD yesterday!

eating my words.

acai bowls. photo by angie

 for everyone who has ever heard the words "i will never miss san diego," come out of my mouth, i'm here to say that you were right, and i was wrong. i miss it. not the city so much as what the time i spent there means to me. along with california burritos, acai bowls, con pane cinnamon rolls, and wanida's voice [from flood]. i miss those too. 

Con Pane cinnamon rolls. photo by angie

 i'm going to take a step of vulnerability to tell you that i just cried about it [i'm of the belief that we all need a good cry sometimes, so this is no surprise] for a good little while. sometimes i get worried that i'll always be longing for another place, but i'm working on contentment. i'm also working on letting the good memories remain as they are. without attempting to recreate, forget, exaggerate or taint them. because the truth is, acai bowls are delicious, but i can almost guarantee they would not be as delicious in lebanon. and they would not be as delicious if they weren't preceded by a wonderfully cleansing run with angie. and they would not be as delicious if i weren't sitting on the beach watching the sunset. 

me, baby g and ang enjoying a sunny easter afternoon

and a california burrito would not taste so melt-in-your-mouth-bad-for-you if my stomach didn't feel like it was eating itself after a killer mile repeats workout. and if i wasn't with landon, fighting over who has better fish tacos, cotijas or ortiz's [the correct answer is ortiz's]. and i certainly know that 2:45pm doesn't mean much to me now, without the sunshine hitting the track and my teammates coming together for a good, long practice.

which probably means that five years from now, sitting in front of nearly on top of a space heater to warm up won't feel quite as cozy as it did in our one-bedroom apartment in lebanon. 

view from my walk to class

all that to say, i'm trying to keep the good memories where they should be: in the good memories department. not in the missed opportunities department and not in the gee, i wish i could go back there department. because from now on, i'd like to live in the i'm here now, and i'm loving it department. so for all the people i shook my head too, all the people i denied, it's high time you know that i do, in fact, miss san diego. 

view from my window. not that it's important, but
the view from my window in lebanon is a wheat field. not
quite as glamorous.

as landon says, "well, we can always move back. i'm sure we'll live in lots of different places. this isn't north korea, you know."

you could say he keeps things in perspective for me, and i love him for it.

xoxo

cherries and change.

my friend brenda and i on my last day at the warehouse

disclaimer: it's a long one.
sometimes i think my life is boring. sometimes i think my situation is easy. sometimes i think it's hard. and other times i just float along, without considering where i'm going, or if i'm going anywhere at all. maybe it's because my days are run by the numbers "8" and "4:30". maybe it's because i spend 60 minutes a day in my car, wondering if i can get by another day going 10 over the speed limit, so that maybe today it will only be 55 minutes. maybe it's because sometimes the hardest part of my day is trying not to get a paper cut [and i do hate paper cuts, so i try pretty hard]. maybe it's because the past four years were filled with beautiful, refreshing moments that feel so far away now. but sometimes i forget how those four years began. and i think it's high time i remember where i came from...

a little over four years ago, i was in my one and only post-high school, pre-college summer and feeling bits of the way i feel now. i was 18, and both sad that four years of beautiful memories were over, and scared to death of what the next four would bring. i found myself in central washington for much of the summer, where i had planned to live with my grandparents and pack cherries for a local orchard [pack not pick, that's a point of confusion for some] to make some money before i moved to san diego for college. all went according to plan, except the cherry-packing. turns out i packed cherries for 12-14 hours, 5-6 days a week that summer. what i had envisioned as being a romantic, sun-kissed summer [picture me running through long-grassed meadows with a ruffly sundress and light piano soundtrack] turned out to be, well, not what i envisioned. 

i woke up at 4:40am and was out the door by 5:20 every morning to get to the warehouse by 6. the warehouse was freezing [i guess fruit needs to be kept cold? who knew?], LOUD [as in, state-mandated ear plugs for all] and lonely. i will give credit to the wonderful women who made and effort to get to know me, which was a difficult task considering the noise and ear plugs and all. one even asked if was dating anyone, and i learned that i should have lied and said no after she pointed me out to a one Captain Awkward who followed me around, stared often, and mispronounced my name for the rest of the summer. other highlights include having to work on the fourth of july, sobbing to my mom just about every night, and reminding myself daily that i had just made the worst mistake of my life.

from one of my many, beautiful runs on the canal in Wenatchee

what was really going on is that i was being stripped of the very things i clung to: predictability, consistent relationships, comfort, and culture. and guess what that resulted in? change. a change in perspective and a change in attitude. the morning sunsets were the most beautiful part of my day, and i began to thank God for them on my way to work each morning. when i got off work, i tried to keep one eye on the road and one eye on the sunset over the Wenatchee river, which is breathtaking. i became increasingly grateful for my grandparents, who graciously allowed me to stay with them, and had dinner ready for me every night when i got home at 8pm. i had to make the most of the small, beautiful moments i had because i knew they had to last me 14 hours in the warehouse. i started praying for my family and friends at 5pm each night at work, taking 2 minutes per person and praying for the first 30 people i thought of. i ended my run at the park each night and spent 5 minutes on the swing listening to india.arie's india'song and taking deep breaths. stripped of everything i found comfort in, i began to marvel over what i did have. i still had a wonderful family, beautiful surroundings and a future. 

as all things do, that summer ended. and the next four years were filled with even more beautiful, meaningful moments than the last. now, 8 months past graduation, i find myself feeling the same things i felt that summer packing cherries. this is nothing like college. i'm not surrounded by my best friends all the time [except landon, and i'm so very blessed to have him near], i don't have a written workout plan to follow everyday, and i don't get to worship monday, wednesday and friday from 9:45-10:30am [and i thought i would never miss chapel]. i don't have the sun shining on me as i walk to class, instead i have rain on my way to work. i think i'm at that transition point. that spot where i miss the past, but am worried that the future can't possibly have as many great moments. i've been stripped of the things that were predictable, and it's time to find the beauty in that. my drive to work is beautiful, and, for crying out loud, i have a job. that's a blessing in itself. and, most importantly, i still have a wonderful family, beautiful surroundings and a future.

the song above [marvel by strangers and pilgrims] has been a good reminder for me that the God who created me also marvels over me. and so why should i be discouraged with the gifts he's given me? rather, i'm trying to be a bit more of a marvel-er myself. here's to change.

xoxo.

and so we jogged.

can i tell you a story? it's a good one, but [in the words of levar burton], don't take my word for it.

it was may of 2008. we were in st. louis, for the national track meet, and landon got a phone call from coach.

i remember him laughing and saying "no, i don't care" to whatever coach's question was. he got off the phone and smirked a little.

"what did coach want?" i asked.

"oh, they assigned me bib number 666", he said. "coach was calling to see if i wanted a different number."

"but you don't?" i asked.

"nah, i don't care. it's just a number."

landon had qualified to run the 10k. that's 25 laps for you non-trackies, and about 23 laps too many for me. i was there as team photographer since i hadn't qualified in any of my events.

landon's race was thursday night, sometime around 9:30pm. the entire team had gone back to the hotel to recuperate for friday. that left me, our coaches, one of our professors, our athletic trainer and landon's uncle to cheer for him.

six of us.

about 30 minutes before the race, i realized the camera battery was dead. i was frantic. i buzzed around the facility looking for an outlet until the official photographer's booth offered to let me use their power strip to charge the battery. not only was a frantic, i was terribly nervous. the year before, landon had struggled in the 5k and finished near the back of the pack. i hoped this year would be different. he certainly had trained harder, but anything can happen at the national meet, especially when there's 25 laps involved. 25 chances to get off pace, get passed, or just stop believing in yourself. 

i remember shaking the entire race. i stood at the 100-meter start, behind the fence, and screamed my little head off. he looked strong, determined, and was right on pace for about 12 laps. he hung in the number six spot, and was on pace to be an all-american. but then it started slipping. after a few laps he dropped to 7th. and then 8th. and then 9th. i could see our coach, standing in the bleachers shaking his head. i just kept screaming.

and then it happened. with three laps to go, landon took off. 

"i knew i could go all-out for three laps," he told me later.

and what's even more amazing: no one went with him. suddenly he had distanced himself from the pack and flew until the race was over, which result in a third place finish for him, and a near-heart attack for the rest of us.

and he was right, his bib number didn't matter [although he did say it felt pretty cool to pass people with "666" on his back].

i cried. and i was still shaking when it was over. i ran up into the bleachers, hugged my coach, and waited for landon to walk over. i figured it would be a while before i would get to talk to him. his uncle, a former track and field olympian was there, and landon would probably want to talk the race over with him, and then he would need to explain to coach why he got off pace in the middle of the race, and then he would probably need treatment from the trainers and a good cool-down run. maybe i'll talk to him on the ride back to the hotel, i thought. i wanted to give him some time to enjoy the victory on his own.

but he walked up into the bleachers where i was standing, gave me a hug, and said,

"will you cool down with me?"

i was shocked, thrilled, and so proud. 

even though we were dating, landon and i rarely ran together during college. he did his thing, and i did mine. but this time, he wanted me to join him after one of his greatest accomplishments.

heck yeah i want to cool down with you, i thought.

we giggled and cheered and had about a million "i can't believe that just happened!" moments the entire time we jogged. 

it was 10 of the best minutes of my life, and i knew then that i wanted to jog next to him forever.

xoxo.

let me see your hands.

hands. 
to a small extent, they show where we've been. what we're about. mine show that at one point in time, someone asked me a pretty important question, and i said yes. 
my fingers are long and skinny..."piano fingers".
all in all, my hands are pretty standard, free-from-scars hands. they haven't had much trouble.
but that's because someone went to the trouble for me. 


that's why i love this song.


Jesus, let me see your hands
i wanna see the holes where you felt your father's plan
Jesus, let me see your feet
never was a man's suffering so sweet.


before i was born, my dad nearly cut the tip of three of his fingers off on a table saw. his hand healed, but one finger is permanently bent at the tip, with some scarring. i remember looking at it when i was little, a bit mesmerized. i wondered what that pain must have felt like, what he thought in those moments after. was there shock? a strange calmness? did he think he might have lost it completely?


and what about the hands in this song?  the hands that saved me. i often need a reminder to ask Jesus to show me his hands. to show me the pain he went through. to show me that he went to all that trouble just so my hands could be clean. that's my prayer this week.


let me see your hands.


["let me see your hands" - josh white, achor]

a place to call home.

so i have this thing about home. i love being home. i liked college in san diego, but the breaks when i got to go home, that was the good stuff.

i remember at our senior chapel this past may, our student body president was speaking, reminiscing on all the things our class had experienced together.

"remember the first time you called point loma 'home'?" she asked.

murmurs and giggles filled our chapel, smiles on everyone's face.

but not mine. i turned to my roommate sitting next to me and said,

"i never did that."

part of my statement came from my relentless i-don't-do-things-just-because-everyone-else-does attitude, but the other part came from a realization that i never let myself call point loma home. i never allowed those beautiful sunsets and that ocean view to really get ahold of me. i think somehow i felt i was betraying the motherland (i.e. portland) if i did. 

but i think i missed out.

i spent hours, hours on one of the most beautiful tracks in the world, but i never let it be my home. i always said i was going back to "school" or "the apartment" or "my dorm" or "the track". 

never once did i say i was going back home.

so i don't feel like i can tell people that i lived in san diego for four years. because in my mind, i was just on a long vacation.

by the time i realized this, it was too late. i was a few days from graduating, with just another week or so left on campus.

landon and i have talked about how long you have to live in a place before you refer to it as where you're from.

he said he'd tell people (say, if we were on a vacation) that he's from lebanon.

intially, i said i'll always tell people i'm from portland, no matter how long i've lived somewhere else, which he promptly told me was ridiculous, and he was right.

because i don't want to have that feeling again.

that feeling that i missed out on letting a beautiful place be my home. on embracing something new, rather than clinging, eyes shut to where i came from. portland will always be special to me, but it doesn't mean i can't see the beauty in this place too.

it's nothing special, but look at those clouds. look at how far you can see past our buildings, over the open fields.

slowly, but surely, i'd like this place to be home, too.

xoxo.

talk to me. [the story of a girl who fatefully fell in love with talk radio]

[maryn and i, in the days of hating npr]

it started in elementary school. i spent weekends at my dear friend maryn's house at least 35 percent of the time, and i remember our sunday morning rides to church quite clearly. maryn and i would sit in the back of the car together, and i would almost be put back to sleep by the ramblings of some guy on the radio. her dad listened religiously, or so it seemed.  i couldn't understand how anyone could find this guy who went on and on about lake whatchamacallit and having to walk uphill to and from school remotely interesting, especially when perfectly good shaggy and o-town songs were playing on the other stations. 

that guy was garrison keillor. 

i hated him. or at least his show. i swore i would never, ever, ever listen to this radio station when i was older.

whoops.

fast forward to my junior year of college. i slowly let npr seep back into my life, considering myself a good journalism major by doing so. and i did it strictly to catch up on the news. i didn't like it, i couldn't let myself like it after the well-intentioned promise i had made to myself.

or did i like it?

yes, i loved it. and i caved.

and, as i type, i'm listening to the world and learning about why western afghanis should engage peacefully with the taliban.

oh, but my real indulgence is these guys...

[carl kasell and peter sagal, of wait wait...don't tell me! fame]

and this genius. love her.

[fresh air's terry gross]

oh, and one last little confession about my npr allegiance.

about two weeks after we moved to lebanon, i accidentally drove TWO AND A HALF MILES past our apartment building because i was so caught up in listening to the story of a pakistani opera singer. no exaggerations here, i clocked my miles as i drove sheepishly back home.

so, it's safe to say that i've gone back on my childhood promise. and i'd like to think i'm smarter for it.

xoxo.

the bright life [official music video]

so, landon and i have some pretty cool friends and family. they wrote a song about us and sang it at a family barbeque the day before our wedding. i wasn't there to see it, but i may have teared up the first time i watched it. the song was just something they did for fun, but it captures our story and how fun our friends and cousins are. i love it.

[the lyrics]

no sales tax

all laid back

two hearts from the land of the trees

i went down south to where the water is warmer

holding each other until the summer

it's gonna be a bright life tonight

went back up in mid december

gonna tell her folks that i

am gonna take your daughter's hand 'til the end of time

all i wanna do is chat with you

holding you, my jewel

it's gonna be a bright life tonight

my name is mr. bright

i really like to fight

i'll kick you in the night

if you touch my wife

my wife's name is katie

she is quite the lady

when she talks to me

she has sensitivity

today we're getting married

in the middle of the prairie

underneath the tree

where my dad waits for me

i put it on her finger

she don't even linger

when she looks at me

i kiss her with glee

thanks, guys. xoxo.

sidenote: i already had the name "bright life" for my blog before they wrote the song, but it further affirmed my choice. :)

wedding inspiration [via 1992]

while looking through family photos this weekend, my sister came across a folder with photos of dresses my mom made in the early '90s. she had a business making wedding gowns, bridesmaid dresses, prom dresses, etc. i remember playing in the basement while brides would come for their fittings.

anyways, the photos are just too good to pass up.

enjoy.

check out this belted bridesmaid's suit

[i didn't even know 'bridesmaid's suits' existed, but i do love the sleeves]

check out those shoulders...

TRAIN...

my mom made this bride's dress and all those lovely baby pink bridesmaid's dresses...

she did great work then, but i think she did an especially good job on this one...

[mine. maybe i'm biased.]


xoxo.

happy labor day.

happy happy labor day.

last year, i started off my labor day weekend with the first cross country race of the season. this year, i'm missing it! especially my fun, fun teammates. 

and, dare i say, i do miss seeing the sunset over the ocean from our apartment window each night...