showered

My bridal shower was exactly everything I wanted, but never expected: elegant, classy, dainty, delicate, refined, and definitely girly. We had summer florals, gorgeous tea sets, touches of lace everywhere, a fun photo booth, delicious treats, and savory sandwiches. My sisters and friends brought their best and I simply enjoyed every minute of it in complete amazement.

My sweet sister, Whitty Bit, was the witty MC who kept the party flowing. She was poised with confidence and had an abundance of jokes, which brought on rounds of laughter from all the ladies. With each new activity, Whit would ring her little bell before announcing what was next. She was so great. She kept saying "the bride to be" with the same excited emphasis every single time. I actually felt like the guest of honor! Brianna, the artistic one, put together a photo booth area with the props displayed in vintage suitcases or hung up on a burlap decorative mannequin. She also cut out bunting, tea dyed sheet music, and did various other crafty things to accentuate the overall look of the evening. My youngest sister, McKenzie, couldn't attend, but spent hours baking heart-shaped short bread cookies that were individually packaged with tea bags as a party favor. My oldest sister, Taylor, designed my STUNNING invitation that stayed on my fridge just for me to admire. She organized all the details and helped keep everything under wraps...they totally surprised me with EVERYTHING! 

All the tables were SO lovely. Each table hostess used her own china for place settings and her own creativity to decorate. My best friend Jordan borrowed her grandmother's tea set to adorn her table with hues of gold and pinks. My mom used her hand painted china, which she got as a wedding gift, and added blush roses inside a teapot for extra charm. The centerpieces were 3 tiered dishes that held the most delicious scones I've ever tasted: chocolate cinnamon and orange cranberry (made by a friend) as well as pimento cheese sandwiches (made by Morrow girls), chicken salad croissants (made by Morrow girls), and cucumber cream cheese sandwiches (made by my future SIL, Amber). I confess I couldn't stop eating. Then I visited the "sweet" table that was adorned with lemon pettifors and oreo cake balls. I was really in trouble.

My sisters prepared a game where I stood up to answer various questions about me and Ben. After each question, they compared my answers to ones Ben had previously given for the same prompts. This caused a lot of laughs since I am notorious for forgetting everything...including details about my own relationship and engagement! The hostesses also wrote a Destiny & Ben "fill in the blank" love story that was placed at every table for the women to complete over tea time. This addition was so special to me because it beautifully documented our story with humor and romance from the perspective of the people I love most. Hearing our history being read aloud by my mother, with her reading glasses and all, reminded me that I have a pretty spectacular God who works all things for GOOD to those who are called according to HIS purpose!

Here are some of the little details...

   

my bright details

bff and bridesmaid!!!

sweet friends

my MOH

 

holding onto it all

As an engaged-to-be-married (in 30 days) woman, I am coming to terms that my days at the Morrow residence are numbered. Although I'm beyond thrilled to share my life with the love of my life, the thought of leaving the Morrow madness makes my heart ache.

124 Ewell Place has been my home for over a decade; I walked through these hallways before the walls were built or the carpet laid. Every weekend, our family would pile in our big van and drive across town to check out the progress. We'd gawk at the unfinished frame, ask my parents questions about what this will be and what that will look like, and then carefully and cautiously creep up the bare wooden stairs to visit our future rooms.

My room was on the 3rd floor, or the built-out attic; it had slanted ceilings and a lot of heat that rose from the rest of the house. It was warm. It was secluded from the fleet of boys downstairs. It was girly. It was spacious. It heard a lot of boyband cds, survived a lot of messes my mom fought me to clean, and saw a lot of glitter nail polish, make-up, and Bath and Body Works product (that still haunt the carpets today). It was my adolescent bedroom. Not necessarily my childhood room — that one included bunk beds and "junk drawers" of elementary treasures — but it was the room where I spent my teenage years, which were arguably the years that I did the most growing, the most shaping, into who I am today.

After college graduation, my blessed parents wanted me home so badly that they sacrificed the beloved playroom and had it turned into a bedroom for me. So now I reside in the renovated garage. It's the room without windows, but has a lot of heart. In the wintertime, it's chilly, but cozy because I keep no less than 3 fleece blankets on hand at all times. In the summertime, I'm comforted by the clinking and swishing of the ceiling fan over my head. Half the room is covered from floor to ceiling with white, symmetrical built-in bookshelves. They hold all the books in the entire house, and they're the first thing I see when I wake up every morning -- rows and rows of books.

Home. This man-made structure of plaster and wood that we watched slowly be built up from the ground has transformed into the most lively and loving home. We've made it our home. My parents along with the contribution of all of us. In some ways, I'm afraid to lose my place here. To miss out on contributing to what we've created. To not belong here or be found here. I'm wary of missing the everyday interactions -- the impromptu dance parties while doing hours of dishes after dinner. Or the family meetings where my Dad lays down the law, divides chores, and predictably states, "your mother will not be faced with a dirty house." Or the quiet evenings when I unexpectedly find myself having a hot dog dinner and thrilling conversation with the 5-year-old -- a rare moment when it's just us in the house. Or coffee dates at the kitchen table where my parents listen to us girls discuss drama and dreams. Or the same. songs. every. day. being played on the piano. Or sleeping in my parents' bed when one or both of them are out of town. Or family movie nights where the older kids suffer through children comedies, but enjoy hearing the rounds of adolescent laughter. Or sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter for late night snacks, someone always opening and closing the fridge at least 10 times as if suddenly new options will appear. Or having a plethora of beautiful fashion consultants available whenever I need their outfit approval.

My new home. I see it as an opportunity to take my parents' cue and create the same environment I've always known and loved. It will be a safe place, a loud place. We'll sit on the counters just because. I'll make enough coffee for company. We'll dance away our dinner calories. The most exciting part? I get to do all this alongside a HUSBAND.

"people that marry can never part, but must go and keep house together." -- Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

"love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for"

This past weekend, Ben and I went to our first wedding of the season. This was also my first wedding to attend since my own wedding planning began. I noticed everything pre-engaged Destiny never would have. The names of all the flowers used in bouquets, how the folds in her dress flattered her waistline, whether or not she was wearing fake eyelashes, wondering where she got her brass cake stands, eyeing her creativity with every bride's best friend--mason jars.

But what really struck me was the couple. Their tenderness and sassy-ness toward each other. Their googly-eyed gazing one moment and then jubilant humor the next. Everything else could have been nonexistent and they'd still be glowing. Their love and sincerity was overwhelmingly beautiful. It was in their eyes -- in their voices as they said their vows. I always love witnessing that kind of love. The forever kind. The can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff (to quote my favorite Mary-Kate and Ashley movie). I cried as Jason barely held it together when Rebekah came around the corner--her Carrie Underwood hair blowing in the gorgeous May breeze; I cried when she reached up to his face with her perfectly manicured hand to wipe his tears; I cried when one of her bridesmaids toasted, challenging them to fight through the hard moments, to remember the love they have now and the One who gave it; I even cried at Jason's "OH YEAH" in replace of "I do" during his vows.

It was a beautiful day. And served as a great reminder that love is truly the only ingredient needed as I continue planning my day. My and Ben's love will endure and sustain long past a mere date on a calendar that I am trying so very hard to perfect. Love is the only thing perfect.

wedding attire details

seriously --- how gorgeous is she?!?!

that blue sky; the Lord just straight SPOILED them

my fiance doing what he does as the bride and groom share their first dance

it's our turn in TWO MONTHS!!!

my beautiful friend...who let me gawk at her for minutes on end as she talked to me

aaaaaaand guess who caught the bouquet?!

HAPPIEST 18th BIRTHDAY, LANDY!

I'll never forget how happy -- or how skeptical -- I was when I found out I was going to have a brother.

My three sisters and I weren't sure we were ready for this guy to come in and cramp our style. See, before Landon, it was girl world. Full fledge barbie-lovin', 90s-fashion, tea-parties-every-birthday kinda world. Psh, who am I kidding, even after Landon arrived it was STILL girl world. But sweet, loving Landon jumped right in, ready to charm his sisters! He always wanted to be with us whether it was chatting on the floor in our bedrooms, or playing dress-up, or watching Lizzie Maguire, or crashing our sleepovers; if his girls were there, so was he. Sure, at times we thought him pesky, especially as we hit the teenage, hormonal years when everything, everywhere was absolutely embarrassing and a cute brother who followed you around was no exception, but his love for us was always from the heart. And the enjoyment he found in us was actually genuine.

At 18, Landon still loves chick-flicks (Downton Abbey is his life), and he'd rather sit on the couch, watch us drink coffee (he can't get himself to like it), and talk about our days into the night before he'd ever consider picking up a video game controller. He bakes us chocolate chip cookies for no special reason, compliments us even on our most rough days, and knows the measure of a good hug! He makes sure we're home at a decent hour of night, saying he can't sleep unless "all my chicks are in the nest." And when I wear a new outfit he always says the same thing just to make me smile: "oh, Dest, that outfit....it's so vintage!" But he emphasizes and elongates the word so it's more like: "vintaaaaage" (even though I know he has no idea what that means).

We love our Landon. He started out as "that baby boy" who interrupted our glamorous life of overnight hair rollers and matching outfits, but he became our "little big bro." We came to call him that because he towers over us with his 6"1 frame, but also because he leads and loves us with such wisdom, maturity, and confidence. I think it's very appropriate that Landon shares his birthday with George Washington -- our nation's first leader. I know the Lord is paving a path of greatness for Landon, and He couldn't find a more willing heart.

Us at Christmas Town, 2012

a great happiness

On December 19th, 2012, I journaled this quote:

She believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere, and for this reason she remained calm as the days flew by. -- Gyula Krudy

...and 5 days later, my awfully handsome man asked me to marry him.

A great happiness. All throughout my work day while I fax, and highlight, and get papercuts, I dream about "great happiness." It's different for everyone, of course. But for me, great happiness is a wood burning fireplace, coffee in the mornings with him, prayers before bed, 1 hotel room when we travel instead of 2, a chandelier in the dining room, hearing him sing songs throughout our home, cooking his favorite food, a new and improved alarm clock that kisses me good morning, a music room, a garden, books on the shelves, quilts on the beds, and love in our hearts.

Holy moly, I'm excited for great, abundant happiness.

"do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires"

So, I don't know if I'll get through writing this post without crying. I have been such a weepy emotional basket-case. But I feel I am justified. My life will never, ever be the same again and has more promise, potential, excitement, and love than it ever has before.

Because...

I'M GETTING MARRIED.

I have to tell this to myself over and over again and I still haven't quite processed it. So what the heck:

I'M. GETTING. MAAAAARRIEEDDD!!!

I am engaged. A fiancee. Betrothed. Bride-to-be. Future wife. I have a ring on my finger!!!!!

One can imagine the state of my heart the past several hours. I've experienced every feeling from pure joy and elation, to sudden stress, to overwhelming happiness, to giddiness and anticipation, to peaceful satisfaction, to a zombie-like trance, to crocodile tears, to wedding dreaming, to staring in blessed bewilderment at my vintage ring (for minutes on end). UGH. But I have to say, despite the overload, one feeling has been a constant the past 47 hours.

I am humbly grateful.

I'm so utterly thankful that God prepared this too-good-to-be-true man for me. FOR ME! That he aligned everything in his timing, that he has done such a work in my and Ben's heart, that we are able to be together under God's favor, that the Lord is at the center of our relationship, and that HE will be glorified in our lives as a couple. WOW. Humbled. God fulfilled his promise to me -- the promise of creating and preparing and perfecting a human being meant solely for me and who loves me like I could never have imagined.

LOVE. That's another thing I'm feeling. So much love.

Song of Solomon says "Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."

I waited, and waited. I never allowed myself to fall blindly in love, to love the wrong person, to make mistakes in the name of love. I wanted to save it all up in my heart so my husband could one-day experience every ounce of love that I never spent on anyone else. Every bit of it. I wanted to know what love is, without a shadow of a doubt, before I ever succumbed to it.

Well, I've learned what love is:

love is offering me his coat, in addition to mine, willing to suffer the cold of December
love is disarming me in an argument by lovingly saying my name or calling me "sweetheart"
love is staying by my side in a crowd, his hands always finding their way to touch me tenderly
love is involving my family in a proposal because he knew how much I wanted it
love is reassuring me when money is tight, saying he can take care of it all
love is wiping my tears...these days it's the happy kind
love is taking away my fears with kind words as we drive down the highway on Christmas night
love is when he sends me text messages from the back of the auditorium about how beautiful I am from his view
love is seeking out a jeweler for a vintage ring rather than a department store with mass production
love is him hugging four-year-old Anderson and calling him "brother"
love is surprising me with a salad at work because he knows I don't want to eat junk
love is turning around three hours later to pick me up from work
love is buying me a wedding planning book after I say I'm overwhelmed
love is being so agreeable, despite his opinionated self, and allowing me to plan the wedding of my dreams
love is him encouraging me to keep up my sister time
love is knowing exactly how I like my starbucks drink
love is refusing to let anyone try on my ring before the proposal
love is the smile in his voice when he answers my phone calls
love is what I saw in his eyes when he knelt before me, eyes misty, but voice strong and sure

Yes, love. I'm exploding with it. This man is everything I want. He shows me every inch of his heart, he gives to me generously, he is wise and faithful, kind and honest, respectful and passionate, assertive and caring. Things will never, ever be the same again because I have found the one my soul longs for. My heart is so full. I am so humbled by the Lord's provision and match-making. I have so much love to give, to share, to lavish.

The Lord is so worth trusting.
Love is so worth waiting for.

And I am so happy.

pardon me, the waterworks were aflowin' prior to this picture

birthdays and rainy days

It’s my 23rd birthday and Hurricane Sandy is my birthday companion. With all her wind, rain, and glory. But I’m not complaining. I like the steady sound of rain, and the autumn leaves twirling, and the branches squealing. I like it all. I wish all my birthdays could be welcomed with dreary, gray skies juxtaposed by bold, vibrant colors of the foliage. Sunny days are well and good, but there’s something mysterious and romantic about the fog and the pitter-patter and the gusty presence of a storm. I’m happy my birthday falls in Sandy’s path this year. Even though it’s a Monday.

retrospect.

Sometimes you don't realize you love something until you don't have it anymore.

Like losing sleep to write a paper in the library because you procrastinated and it's due the next day. Or knowing that every Tuesday you will eat a buffalo chicken wrap in The Commons on campus. Or having to sacrifice a few hours a week to cram into a practice room with 4 other altos and sing parts. Or being so tired, yet so wired, at 2 am that you grab a girlfriend and go to Wendy's for caffeine and french fries. Or getting up early to run the beautiful Noland Trail with a marathon runner who puts you to shame, but gives you the best conversation. Or being "required" to read Jane Austen novels and write a research paper on them. Or being at a football game when it starts pouring down rain, but you stay anyway and get a cold. Or spending a 50 minute class learning more than anyone would ever want to know about comma placement (well, almost anyone). Sometimes things become a routine, a habit, a convenience, an obligation. And you don't see how priveleged you are until you have moved on and see it in retrospect.

Retrospect is a funny thing because you'd like to believe that you live in the moment and take nothing for granted. But the truth is, even when you try, you can't absorb everything as it's happening. Especially the mundane, even irritating things, that you never thought were glorious or special in the first place -- just part of your daily life.

And then one day they're not.

And it's the saddest thing because you could have loved them and cherished them so much more.

As I turn 23, I have a lot of retrospect. 22 gave me so much that I know I'll never have again. It provided me with a youth that excused my stubborness and impulsiveness. It was my explanation for foolishness and liveliness. It placed me in a world with pretty brick buildings and pretty people. It afforded a routine that I was quite lucky to live, even if I complained or ached for bigger things. 22 let me spend my days learning and spend my nights living...even if those nights meant watching Shirley Temple movies for film class, or making playlists while wrapped in my quilt, or going to my friend's apartment to eat ramen and watch shows I don't even care about. I mean...that's boring stuff....but beautiful stuff. I know I'm a year older, but I don't want to lose that youth.

Now? I'm sitting in an office cubicle while CNU classes are canceled and campus is closed. I'm doing the adult thing -- spending my birthday working. My friends were sent home. To stay warm and dry and be with the people they love. I hope they aren't taking it for granted.

On a happier note, I am glad for a rainy birthday. I always hope for a rainy birthday. I am happy to be living, but more than that, to feel alive. And I know next year, I'll love this a lot more...with the help of a little bit of retrospect.

travel bucket-list: update #2

 

 

JULIET'S BALCONY

image credit

Where? Verona, Italy

Why? It is the designated site of the fictional scene between the most famous lovers of all time where Juliet profusely exclaims, "Romeo! Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" I can only imagine the atmosphere surrounding Juliet's house that overlooks a small courtyard. Potent elements of magic, passion, and enchantment. For me, seeing this site would mean seeing my literary development come full-circle. I first read Romeo & Juliet in 9th grade English class. We had a student teacher from William & Mary named Ms. Hepp and her enthusiasm for literature was so contagious. It was while reading Romeo & Juliet that I first fell in love with English. I didn't necessarily know I wanted to pursue it at the time, but I loved the way tragedy and romance and jealousy and purity could all be expressed synonymously in one text. I remember our unit test had us write an argumentative essay about whether it was destined fate or merely immature obsession that drove the two protagonists of the play. Later, Ms. Hepp's comment on my graded assignment explained that her and I were the only true romantics of the class...apparently everyone else thought the lovers were crazy. I know visiting this place, this ancient balcony where starlight lit the scene of forbidden love, would stir my romantic beliefs of serendipity, and remind me of those first weeks when English became a part of me.

Romeo and Juliet, Royal Film Performance, 1968 (image credit)



crickets and rain

"I wish I could take pictures of sounds" Molly Hunter K. said with a sigh as she clutched her Nikon camera and followed me down the red brick path lined with lush greenery that stretched a few feet above our heads. We were on our way to our favorite spot in Colonial Williamsburg to enjoy the first moments of dawn. The drizzling rain provided the perfect morning mist while our feet splashed through shallow puddles that consisted of both rain and dew. Dancing raindrops bounced off the leaves of the trees before rhythmically falling and splashing onto our faces, and the crickets sang as if welcoming or maybe forbidding the rising sun. As light slowly and defiantly embraced the darkened sky, clicks from the shutter of Molly's camera seemed to echo among the vibrant hues of green -- forest, emerald, mint. The historic streets behind us were empty and quiet, allowing our soundtrack to occupy all space.

No, the pictures on Molly's camera definitely won't do this moment justice; they can't capture the melodies of the crickets or the drum of the rain.

As the rain came down harder, so did our laughter. Despite the dreary weather, which seemed to be straight out of an Austen novel (Marrianne, anyone?), or perhaps it was more Bronte-esque, we giggled with girlish bliss mixed with a bit of embarrassed shame...but just a fraction. Adolescents, still, no matter how hard life tried to make us grow up. "I wish our high school selves could see us," Molly said offhandedly with a touch of sarcasm. No doubt, our high school selves would never have anticipated we'd still be visiting the worn stairs covered in ivy five years later. I'm sure we thought we'd have much better things -- more sophicsticated things -- to do with our time. But here we were: hair soaked, umbrella ditched, black and white pictures galore, humming "Dawn" from the Pride & Prejudice motion picture soundtrack, and admiring cobwebs that shelved shimmering droplets of condensation. We really hadn't changed all that much, Molly and I. Sure, the topics of conversation shifted-- college, new relationships, missed opportunities, future dreams that suddenly (and dauntingly) seemed a lot closer. But us as girls? We were the same. Still as romantic as ever with a rather large flare for the dramatic.

Right now, I'm thankful that I'm 22. Young and free. Free to do these types of things -- by "things" I mean waiting for the sun to rise at 7am on a Monday -- and not being too caught up in apprehension or reputation.

all photos taken my Molly. Go visit her blog here. Go go go!

don't forget to listen for the crickets and rain in your own life....