Our Adventure

"It was such a joy to meet you."  That part I kept.  Because it was, it was such a joy to meet her. "What an adventure you had."  This part I wrote and quickly deleted.

I'm fairly certain this sweet girl would have thought nothing of it.  She would have taken my words for what they were: a heartfelt response to her sweet message.

And not a thing more.

She wouldn't have become all bent out of shape, all fired up, just because of the way my words strung together.

Had?  She had an adventure?

She was living one right now.  

You see, I used to be that way.  And by used too, I mean I still struggle with this.

When I think adventure, I think long flights, airport terminals, and biscoff cookies.  [Quick thought bubble: These precious, delicious cookies are for sale in most grocery stores. Get some and dunk them in your tea.]

I think of waiting at a "bus stop" alone in Nicaragua and politely [and fearfully] declining a kind mans gesture of offering me some peanuts.  By bus stop I mean random tree on the side of a road.

I think of camping in Washington State.

I think of a van breaking down in Kenya and letting girls play with my hair as they chat in Swahili.

I think of elephants and hippos and eating without utensils.

I think of a heavy backpack cutting into the sides of my hips, hiking in flip flops because my feet are covered in blisters, eating cold soup from a can.

It's so easy to think that these things are the grand adventures of my life.  And that adventures are this thing you do, and then they're gone and you're left to wait.  Waiting to live your next grand adventure.  

But I want to fight back y'all.  I have to believe my greatest adventure is today. It's right now, sitting at my table, eating my oats, and drinking tea.

It's choosing to get up a little early, do yoga, and sit here with you to write.  Because Lord knows I need it.

It's sitting at work on the computer, and choosing to drop everything to help a student who needs someone, anyone, to just listen. To look into his eyes, full of worry and sadness, with all my deepest compassion and say, "I'm so glad you're here.  I'm so glad I got to meet you."

Maybe we need to hear that more.  Maybe, we need to say that more.

My adventure is folding newborn onesies and blankets and figuring out how to set up a pack and play with my sister.  Side note: Who invented those? Because you are genius. That thing is the coolest.

My adventure is realizing that when Matthew is gone, I really, really miss him.

I miss his hugs and kisses and smell.

I miss the space between his shoulder and neck.

And I never, ever, thought I'd be like that.  I mean, I've been single wayyyyyy longer than I've been married.

Independence is my jam.

But in all honesty, when he's gone, it feels like something really important is missing.

I have friends caught in the middle, smack dab in between choices and dreams, wrestling with where to go and what to be.   And the stress and anxiety of it all can be heavy [I know this well].  But friend, you're also smack dab in an adventure.

An adventure of discovery and knowing and wanting to be known.

I have friends who are newlyweds, navigating the joys and trials of that first year.  Paying bills, sharing chores, switching between being the little and big spoon.

It's a love adventure.  One of growth and vulnerability.

It's easy to compare adventures.  It's easy to think that maybe we're missing it, that maybe it already happened, and now we just wait patiently impatiently.

But this life, each itty bitty moment, each meal, cup of coffee,  and fight is our great adventure.

It happens when I'm buying groceries and when I say good morning to my neighbor.

When I fall into the soft spot on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with someone or thing I really, really love.

Maybe this is it.  Maybe the grand adventure isn't a long flight or foreign city.  Maybe it's this life, in all it's routine and simplicity.

I'm going to try and fight for that y'all.  Maybe we could do it together?

Milk and Honey

Tuesday was like milk and honey. It felt so good and warm and soothing.  It moved really, really slow, and for a moment I thought maybe, just maybe, this day doesn't have a beginning or end.  It might just last forever.

As silly and childish as it sounds,  I prayed it would last forever.  I prayed it could always feel like this.

I love the way milk & honey swirl together in perfect harmony in tea.  I love wrapping both hands around my warm mug, pressing it to my lips, taking a sip, and for a moment, on a cold winter day, when you are sneezing and tired, all seems well with the world.

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Matthew made breakfast and I peered out the kitchen window, sipped my coffee and shouted, " I LOVE snow."

"I think you love snow days, Maeve."

Yeah, that's probably more accurate.

Because it's not necessarily the snow that I love.  It's the way snow covered streets and smoke from chimneys looks and feels.  It's how, unlike other days, it begs you to be still and curl up on the couch with wool socks and a blanket and a really good book.

A day that is totally okay and acceptable to stay in your jammies'.

A day where making and eating breakfast should take up the whole morning because, do you really have anywhere else better to be?

I let Matthew take full reign in the kitchen that morning.  I'll admit, I can be incredibly bossy and controlling in the kitchen.  But this snow day, I let him play chef.  I let him make a mess and try things and experiment.

It was adorable.  And, it was delicious.

We drank way more than coffee than we ever should and moved from the table to the couch, to read the bible.  To actually start our little bible book club, the one I talked about in this post.

Folks, we rarely read our bibles - together.  I say that because it's true and this is an honest place.  But we sat there, reading at our own pace, sitting on opposite sides of the couch and it felt so good and right.  There is power in it.  I've been told this, time and time again, but I can't say I've always truly believed that.

We ventured out of our warm house to the gym and to our favorite little coffee shop in town for hot chocolate.  Because we're firm believers in treating yourself when you do something good.

We ate butternut squash soup and bread and drank a really good stout beer that my Dad brought over - thanks Pops.  We played "People Are Awesome" videos on youtube and reenacted them in our kitchen.

I was wingsuit flying over the ocean.  [If you are completely confused, I was too. It looks a little something like this.]  I think Matthew was pretending to do some extreme sport?  Though, it quickly became a techno dance party instead, involving chair standing and fist pumping.

Just your normal Tuesday night, ya know?

Sometimes, I take life and myself way too seriously and I forget to be silly.  It felt so good to be silly.

I couldn't let go of Tuesday quite yet, it was too good, so I insisted we went out to dinner.

So we did just that.

Off to TGI Fridays we went, a place I've been probably 3 times in my entire life.  And there we sat, on a booth, side by side.  The way it felt when we first started dating.   The way it felt when we wanted to know every little thing about each other // every nook, every cranny, every story.

It's amazing how quickly you can forget to do that - date each other.

When we got back in the car, Matthew said, "I think this has been one of my most favorite days of being married to you."

And I had to agree - with all my heart and soul.  Because it was so ordinary and plain and simple.  It was sweet and warm and slow.

Because lets be real, some days it's hard - really hard.

But when it's hard and busy and I ache for snow days on Tuesday, I'll know just what to do.  Thank goodness I can feel this day - over and over again with my darling, if I need too.   

All it'll take is a cup of tea - with a little milk and honey.