Owen

The last five months have found Owen regularly in and out of various doctor’s offices. He has physical and developmental limitations and we are working tirelessly to find the reason why and search for both short and long-term solutions. His muscle tone is low, causing balance and stability issues, speech delays, and other minor difficulties. Sweet, innocent children ask why Owen walks “crooked”, adults comment on his wobbliness and how tired he always looks, and others silently watch him from a distance as he stumbles and falls through grocery store aisles or the hallways at church. 

Things that come easily and naturally to so many children - running, speaking, eating, standing straight - require a lot of hard work for Owen. He has been seen by an audiologist, an ophthalmologist, two pediatric neurologists, and has weekly sessions with both a physical therapist and speech pathologist. There are a lot of questions about what’s going on inside Owen’s little body and not a lot of answers, but we do know a few things. The diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy was mentioned a number of times with our first neurologist, pediatrician, and Owen’s therapists. After taking him to Primary Children’s Hospital in SLC for an MRI and then following up with our second neurologist there, we have been told with confidence that Owen does not have CP. We had been prepared for and almost expected the CP diagnosis and were relieved when, after those several weeks of waiting and wondering, we were told that it can be ruled out. What that leaves us with, however, are more questions and a new path of possibilities to explore. 

Our next step is genetic testing, where Owen’s doctors will take blood samples of Clay, myself, and Owen and look for any anomalies that might explain his delays. The chances of finding a diagnosis are slim, but the test results could still give us a better idea of what’s in store for Owen’s development down the road. For now, we are calling what he has Global Developmental Delay, which means that everything from his speech to his fine and gross motor skills are delayed without having a clear explanation why. 

What others see as weaknesses in Owen, we know are strengths. We may not yet have a diagnosis, but what we do have is everyday proof that Owen is a fighter. He is strong, he works hard, and he knows no boundaries that someone else might set for him. He has improved so much in the short time that he’s been in physical and speech therapies. In his first PT evaluation, he could not complete simple tasks like jump with both feet off the ground or walk up or down stairs without being held and guided. He now jumps off of everything he can find. He loves to walk on the treadmill and climb the rock wall with assistance from his therapists. In his first Speech evaluation, he could only say a small handful of words and mostly grunted and pointed in an effort to communicate. Now we can’t keep up with the words he is picking up on every day. 

What’s hard is that many people on the outside do not and will not know of Owen’s strength. They will not know how hard he has worked and the tears he has shed as his progress continues, so frequently through pain and fatigue. So often we look at people and choose to see their faults rather than what they’ve overcome. We judge others, thinking they could try harder, do more, be something or someone different. But the truth is, we never know how far they’ve already come.

I know that we have many years, if not a lifetime, ahead of us as we work to give Owen the care that he needs. There will probably always be questions and stares and a natural curiosity from those around him. But there are also the people who know Owen and the light that he brings wherever he goes. He is happy and adorably loving and so fearlessly active. Those things come from within him. They do not come from a place of weakness or disability. They are who he really is. They are a part of his spirit and his tender, exceptionally big heart. And no matter what diagnosis we may or may not get down the road, that will never change. Owen is exactly who and how he is supposed to be. And we are so unbelievably glad that he’s ours. 

For Tony Jay

Tony. I find myself quietly saying his name throughout the day, as if speaking it out loud will make the pain of his death easier to bear. In some ways it does help, just a little. 

I think about him a lot. I think about conversations we had and the conversations I wish we would have had. I picture him wrestling Mushu on the living room floor, or blaring his music way too loud in the upstairs bathroom. I see his dimples and hear his voice and I miss him terribly.

My favorite memory with Tony was when I told him I was pregnant with Owen. Clay and I had been sharing and celebrating the news with family all day. Crying tears of joy left my eyes puffy and red. When Vandi told Tony I had something important to tell him, all he saw were my tear-stained cheeks and he was instantly concerned. I smiled and told him I was pregnant. The worry on his face was immediately replaced with overwhelming joy and relief. That was Tony. He cared about people. He cared about his family. He sighed, gave me a big hug, and, through shared laughter, told me not to scare him like that ever again. 

From the day Tony died up to the day of the funeral our time was spent planning, writing, crying, praying, and somehow pulling off Christmas with a house full of grieving family members. We had each other to lean on and we kept one another afloat. We shared stories. Even what had once been simple anecdotes of Tony’s life were suddenly cherished and priceless memories - recollections that we desperately clung to, hoping to feel him close. Though those days were hard, the ones that followed Tony’s funeral were significantly harder. After the funeral, we had to leave the support and comfort of each other and face real life as we went our separate ways. In my quiet moments alone, not knowing what else to do, I fell to my knees and sobbed. I know every other member of the family has done the same. 

Those moments of outward pain are gradually lessening, but I fear the internal sorrow will never go away. As a family we are suffering, we are missing a huge piece of who we are. As individuals we are broken, seeking peace and even just a temporary freedom from sadness.  

As the days go by and questions remain unanswered, I feel anger sneaking its way into my heart. It’s a strange thing to have a person who means nothing to us be responsible for taking away the person who means everything to us. I don’t know his name, his face, nor do I care to. But his choice has altered the lives of many. I have had more conversations about guns and bad guys with my five year old daughter than any parent ever should. There are no words to describe the hurt of knowing how Tony was taken from this earthly life. I try not to think about it. I try not to think about the person responsible. I can’t think about it. I do think about how Tony lived, though. I think about him daily. And that’s a much better way to direct my thoughts.

I also think about Jesus Christ and the pain and suffering he endured at the end of his life. I think about how I wouldn’t wish the heartache I feel from this tragedy on anybody, and then I remember that Christ voluntarily felt this very pain. He knows our suffering. He knows our broken hearts. And that knowledge, more than anything else, helps me get through each day. 

Throughout all of this, my eyes have been opened to the truly good people around us. Their acts of kindness and love remind me that light will always drive away darkness. Their service shows me that God answers prayers in different ways through inspired hearts. The good people of our community whose lives have been touched by Tony and the Hansen family have provided a strength we’ve needed and will continue to treasure. 

Two days before Tony died, I told him the next time I saw him I was going to give him a big old hug. He said he couldn’t wait. I don’t know how long that wait will be, but I do know that I will see him again and he’ll be there, ready to receive that big hug I’ve got saved for him. Until then, I will continue to miss and think of Tony every day. I will turn to this incredible family I've married into as we lean on one another for support and strength. I will try to find a way to get through the sadness and to live with a light that honors and celebrates my dear, beloved brother-in-law and his light that impacted us all.

my story of faith

I realize this a long post, but it is a story I want to share. Perhaps I will be the only one to benefit from it - to have this very abridged version of a very long and difficult journey written down for myself to look back on during other times of trial. I do, however, hope it serves a purpose beyond my own little world. 

It started one late night in November as I was lying on Hallie's bedroom floor helping her fall asleep after a hard day. After what seemed like hours of stories and songs she finally drifted off, and in one quick moment I let my emotions take over.  I quietly cried into the crook of my arm, hoping not to wake Hallie with my sobs. I was tired and discouraged and frustrated. As the tears rolled down my face I could only wonder what Clay and I were about to get ourselves into. 

Three months earlier we decided that we needed to leave Texas. We had only lived there a short time, but after many tearful discussions and prayers we knew we couldn't stay. Clay needed a different job. We needed to be closer to our families. We desired a different life for us and a for our daughter. So Clay started looking for jobs in Utah and Idaho. He is a law school graduate and a licensed estate planning attorney, but we knew with the job market the way it is finding a position equal to Clay's experience and abilities would be tough. We agreed that an entry-level position somewhere, anywhere, would have to do - it would be our ticket home and would allow us to start over and work our way up from the bottom. It wasn't ideal, but we felt it was our best chance. However, by November, after months of searching, applying for jobs and phone interviews, we had nothing. Clay was getting rejection emails and phone calls on a daily basis. It hurt and we felt defeated. 

So there I lay, on the cold, hard floor of my two-year old daughter's bedroom, wondering how we were going to make it. Hoping for a miracle that would get us where we so desperately wanted to be. In my weakest moment, I cried to the Lord in anger. "Why?" I asked. "Why won't anyone give Clay a chance?" I said it over and over, hoping for an answer. I will never forget that feeling of desperation and what happened next. I heard a voice softly say, "Because something better is coming." I didn't know who or what said it, but I knew it wasn't me or my own thought because I did not believe it. I truly didn't think that anything better was waiting for us. Not that night, at least. 

After two more months of rejections, the lease was up on our rental home and we knew we had to leave with nothing. Clay quit his job, we said goodbye to close friends and terrific food and beautiful weather, we sold many of our belongings, then we came home to live with our parents - something I swore we'd never, ever do. Following through on the choice to leave our life and job and familiarity, regardless of how unhappy we were with them, was a scary one, but from the day we moved I knew I had to have faith that the words I heard in response to my prayer were true. Something better was coming. I didn't know when or where or how to find it, but I believed. We believed. And we took our leap of faith.

Every day for five months we wrestled with the decision we made. For 139 days we were either on the verge of tears or already there. We spent 139 mornings waking up feeling like we had no purpose, no hope and going to sleep for 139 nights feeling trapped and discouraged. Clay had over twenty interviews during that time. With each potential job we hung our every hope on it being the one he would get. And with every "thanks, but no thanks" or "you're not the right fit" or "we've gone in another direction", our hearts broke. They weren't even great jobs - just something that would help us get by. Clay fought for each job and put all he had into every interview process, only to be shot down so effortlessly, almost as if he were an afterthought.  The tears flowed. The depression deepened. Then we'd force ourselves to pick up the pieces and start over. Every time I asked and wondered why were required to struggle so much, from the back of my mind I would hear the phrase, "because something better is coming." 

There was one specific job that we wanted more than anything. It was in Salt Lake with a small investment company. Clay interviewed with them over the phone and in person, both with very positive responses. They really liked him and said a lot of things that had us thinking the job was ours. We started looking at houses in the area and dreamed up a life there for our little family before we even got an offer. We were sure it was coming and I was certain this was our path to something better. Then, after three weeks of waiting and dreaming and allowing the excitement to build until we were ready to burst, we were told they chose someone else. This may sound dramatic, but it was easily the hardest day in our eight years of marriage. To look at my husband, who has done everything he can to try to take care of his two girls, and so clearly see the fear and sadness in his eyes was more than I could bear. At that point we had nothing to hold on to. In one short minute we went from preparing and planning for this great offer to losing a life we didn't quite have but were so close to reaching. We spent the day wallowing in self-pity and spreading the bad news among our closest family and friends. We were angry and confused and felt cheated, but the following day we decided to remain faithful and hold our heads high. We went into survival mode and kicked our plans into high gear. We got in touch with any and every professional contact we had. Clay emailed his resume to over three dozen companies in the Salt Lake area, whether they were hiring or not. We pulled out all the stops. We realized we were going to be in this for the long haul and we were preparing for life to get harder, for the days to get worse.

Surprisingly, the Lord had something else in mind. Three days after our painful and unexpected rejection in Salt Lake, Clay was contacted by a company in Boise requesting an interview. Three days after the first interview they wanted to see him again. And five days after that he was offered a job.  On June 20th, Clay accepted the job in Boise. Ironically, this was the only job since Clay first started looking almost a year ago that we didn't hope for. We thought it was too good. We didn't think he had a chance. We didn't dwell on it like all the others, we didn't pray as hard for it as all the others, we hardly even spoke about it with each other. It was almost too good to be true, so we didn't even consider it. Yet here we are. Clay started on Monday and every day we look at each other in disbelief that he is suddenly employed again. His new job is very hard work and will challenge him every day, but that's good. That's what he needs and what he has wanted but that every job before this had been lacking. And this job, the one that we absolutely didn't see coming, is better. It is better in every way than any other of the hundreds of jobs Clay applied for. A better fit, better location, better company, better career, better relationships, better opportunities. It is, without a doubt, our something better.


It will never cease to amaze me that the words I heard on a dark and lonely autumn night would not only prove to be true, but that they were powerful enough to help me get through the otherwise unbearable pain and discouragement I felt throughout this trial. Clay and I made a hard choice, one that few would make in these uncertain times and that many said we were crazy for making, but because we had faith and we believed those five simple words to be true, we knew our choice would not be in vain. 

This is only a portion of the trials we have been facing as of late, but if I have learned anything from this experience it is that prayers are answered, that God does not leave us on our own, and that relying on faith - the belief that your unseen hopes and dreams will become a reality - can carry you through your hardship. I know that to be true and I believe that when we turn to God in our times of trouble instead of doubting him, he will always provide a way.  

faith and patience and thanks

I was so touched by your kind comments and emails after my somewhat cryptic post about our current trial. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from many of you. I think we can all use words of support and encouragement no matter what we are facing in our lives. A day can quickly turn from bad to good with something as simple as a compliment, a friendly face, or a feeling that you are not alone. 

In my quiet moments of reflection over the past few months I have relied on two specific talks that are full of the most uplifting words of guidance and comfort. The quote above (isn't it terrific?) comes from Mountains to Climb by Henry B. Eyring. The other talk is Continue in Patience by Dieter F. Uchtdorf. My favorite quote from that talk comes when he is explaining that God has a purpose in requiring us to wait for blessings that we may be asking for. He says: "Every one of us is called to wait in our own way. We wait for answers to prayers. We wait for things which at the time may appear so right and so good to us that we can't possibly imagine why Heavenly Father would delay the answer."  I think about those words often, and I can't quite put my finger on why but they give me great comfort. I think there will come a point in my life when I can look back on this challenge and clearly see what happened and how my family changed during this period of waiting and wondering and struggling and enduring. I'm not sure when, but I do believe that time will come.

So I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Thanks for reading and commenting and understanding and striving to make it through your own personal trials along the way. We all have them. Thank you for helping me through mine and hopefully the words I share will help you through yours.

hallie's dad

There is something to be said about a man who is wrapped around his little girl's finger. He is willing to sacrifice watching the end of the game to make sure she gets a kiss and hug goodnight. He is the first to pick her up and wipe her tears after a hard fall. He will encourage an impromptu princess-style dance party and, in the same afternoon, make sure she knows the right way to hold a golf club or kick a soccer ball. He can carry her cold and tired body for miles while ignoring his discomfort and shaky arms. He tells her she's beautiful, smart, sweet and kind. He treats her mother better than she probably deserves and never leaves a doubt in anyone's mind that his girls are his world. 

Happy Father's Day to my favorite man. He teaches me more than I ever thought I could learn from one person. He is patient and hard working and generous and honest. I love that he is the father of my daughter and will always be the one she looks up to and turns to during hard times. He is the reason we are able to make it through each day. 

every little thing

I have been off the blogging radar lately. I've come close to deleting this blog a couple of times, but right now I find that I need it - if for nobody else then for me. I need somewhere to focus my thoughts and emotions. I need a project. I need a distraction.

I am at a stage right now where I'm learning life lessons at a crazy rapid pace. Things don't work out as planned, some people say only what they know you want to hear, there is a fine line between preparing for a major life change and getting your hopes up too high, your heart can break a dozen times but will continue to beat, and the best thing you can do is take things one day at a time.

I know I am not alone in my trials. I am only one in a world of silent sufferers. Bad things happen to good people. But behind every bad thing happening are about a thousand tiny good things happening at the same time. I truly believe that. We just have to look for them.

I have a playlist of songs to listen to when I'm feeling down. They have positive messages about carrying on and keeping your head up and three little birds telling you that every little thing will be alright. And it will. I have to look a little harder than I'd like to in order to see the good things, but it keeps me from focusing on the tough stuff. I have to hold back tears...or at least try...so I can be strong for my family. I have to get on my knees and pray instead of get angry. And I have to believe that every little thing really is gonna be alright.

girlfriends

You know those days when you find yourself in a funk and then life throws everything it can at you in what you are sure is a conspiracy to keep you forever down and out? Please tell me you understand. I don't like to have days like that (who does?) but when they happen I always find myself wondering what magic cure will pull me out of it. Sometimes the answer is a Reese's milkshake, other times it's singing along with my favorite Ella Fitzgerald album, and then, on the luckiest of days, it's an inspired phone call from a good friend. Now I'm not much of a phone talker, but when an old friend calls with a warm voice and a listening ear you bet I'm all over that long-distance conversation.

I'm thankful for the surprise call I received today from a dear friend. She shared words of advice and encouragement and lovingly reminded me of things I'd simply forgotten. We discussed the need for girlfriends and the difference they bring to any ordinary day. I believe we (girlfriends) are part of a universal sisterhood, one with unspoken rules of support and honesty. The greatest friends I've made are ones who accept me and love me and, most importantly, allow me to learn enough about them to accept and love them in return. It's a two-way street. We don't always have a kindred spirit-type connection with every friend we make - that's okay. But I am deeply grateful for the friends I do connect with on a different level. For the friends who know me best, who know me as a mom and a wife and an individual, who can pick up right where we left off no matter how long it has been since we've last spoken. I hope every woman has at least one friend like that. If you do, be sure to count yourself truly blessed. And then maybe go give them a call.

image source / pinned here

life lesson / a leap of faith

     

It's always in the most trying and frustrating times that I seem to learn life's best lessons. And by best I mean toughest and, appropriately enough, the most meaningful. I'm the type of person who likes to know the end before the beginning. I like peeking at the last sentence of a chapter in my book before I'm even on that page. I'm impatient as I sit through a new movie because I don't know what the last scene will behold. I like follow through. I like plans that stick. I like being totally and completely informed. However, reality rarely gives me the glimpses into the future that I so desire - especially during the tough times.

For a long time my husband and I have been talking about taking a certain leap of faith. Now the time to jump is upon us. It's scary and all I want is to know what will be on the other end. I want answers. Or at least a back-up plan. However, in my moments of utmost confidence I realize that taking a leap of faith requires the not knowing. Where does faith come in if I already have the answers?

A few other things I'm learning about enduring trials and uncertainty...

Live one day at a time / Life is so much easier when you live it as it's happening. Do the dishes. Play games with your kids. Wear the cute outfit even if you have nowhere to go. Then do it all again tomorrow.

Focus on your blessings / A man who I admire very much recently warned me not to get sucked into the despair and discouragement that come with facing a problem. He told me to count my blessings and be grateful for the good things. And so I am. I started a gratitude journal and, though I don't write in it everyday, I see my blessings much more clearly on a daily basis.

Don't let your struggle define you / We all need a break from our own problems. It's as simple as that. Don't let every person in on your trial. Don't let every conversation be about the negative. Let yourself sit back and breathe every once in a while.

At the end of the day, I'm still scared and worried. And I probably will be for a long time. But hey - even though we may not know where or when we will land, we are taking this leap!

to the supportive

I often wonder how many husbands across the world are, at any given moment, hearing something like, "Okay...I'm just finishing up my blog post," or "Hang on, I've got to get a better picture for the blog."  For every mommy blogger, crafty blogger, lifestyle blogger, family journal blogger, etc., there is most likely a team of family members and friends who support the hobby. How lucky and blessed we are to have them!

My husband has always encouraged me to do what I love. And for every venture I've crossed off of my to-do list, Clay has been the one cheering me along the entire way. Blogging is no exception. I think it's easy for people to laugh off the blogging trend or the world of blogging or however you refer to it. But the truth is that it means a lot to a lot of people. Blogs inspire, motivate and teach. They spark discussions, they create friendships and they simply help us get through the day. For me, blogging is an outlet. A way to express the things that put a smile on my face. A way to share the good parts of life. And it became a way for me to finally feel comfortable sharing my writing with others.

We all blog for a reason. And we read others' blogs for a reason. It is something we love to do. Thank you to those who support us in doing what we enjoy. Even to the ones who just don't get it but still nod your heads and smile. Thanks for your comments both on the blog and off. Thanks for your enthusiasm. Thanks for listening.

And, of course, thanks for reading.

[Me + my most loyal and supportive reader / Thanksgiving 2010]

lost + found

I got lost last night. Really lost and really scared.

When I was in high school I spent many late weekend nights driving around the city by myself. I know...we all have our quirks though, right? My car was my sanctuary from the drama, the awkwardness, the insecurities of being a teenage girl. I would blast my favorite songs and drive for hours. I loved getting lost and using nothing but my memory (and awesome navigation skills) to find my way back home. It gave me a thrill. I loved being able to escape.

Last night I met up with a group of strangers for a girls' night out. It's not something I normally do. Friendships are hard for me. Strangers are even harder. I ended up having a great time though. It was wonderful. But on both the drive there (which was on the other side of town) and the drive home, I got lost. Sooo lost. It was dark, I don't have GPS, and I was alone in a brand new big city. Luckily my husband is incredible and talked me through everything. He guided me back to where I needed to be and helped me find my way home. The moment I walked in the door I fell in his arms and sobbed. I had never been happier to be home.

It may seem like a silly story. A grown woman crying because she got turned around on the freeway. But what makes it something worth remembering is the realization that came from the experience. I am a different girl than I once was. I have no reason to want to escape my life, even for a late night drive and the thrill of getting lost for a small moment. I have a life that I love living every single day. I have blessings. I have responsibilities and a home to keep in order. I have a husband and a daughter who need me. I need them. And I would rather be with them than anywhere else.

I am so happy to have found my way back home.

[Austin Zoo / February 2011]

Participating in Project 52: Glimpse Into Motherhood

mommy thoughts

I can't believe I was ever scared of this stage of life. Afraid of the baby stage. Of the toddler stage. Of the mommy stage. It took a long time for me to decide I was ready for the title. And, of course, for everything that came along with it.

My, how life has changed.

My favorite everyday moments are when our little family of three is together and Hallie says something smart or new or completely silly and Clay and I exchange looks that say, "We love our life." I love the evenings spent tickling and wrestling and chasing a naked bum-bum all over the house. My favorite songs are the ones we sing twenty times a day. The Wheels On the Bus has never sounded so perfect.

I traded in the corporate world for kisses, and the simple life for snuggles. Scary? No. Not at all.

10 lessons

I posted this on our family blog, so my apologies to those who have already seen it. I wanted to make sure to share with readers of this blog as well. 

10 Lessons I've Learned During My Second Year of Motherhood

1.  A mess is not the end of the world. A spilled drink can be cleaned up, stains will fade, stuff is replaceable, books will eventually end up back on their shelves, and people who unexpectedly stop by your house usually know they are doing so at their own risk. A mess is just a mess.

2.  Toddlers have energy. Just go with it. No matter how often or persistently you try to get them to be quiet, settle down, hold still, or stay close; they’ll do what they want. And what they want usually has nothing to do with suppressing their natural energy and desire to get downright crazy. Let them be who they are and, when at all possible, let it all go and get crazy with them!

3.  There are fail-proof solutions to un-bore a bored toddler. A pile of neatly folded laundry, bubbles, a sandbox, anything valuable in your purse. Find them. Use them.

4.  Schedules get hectic. Responsibilities pile up. Priorities weigh down your day. But they only seem important in that moment. Don’t be afraid to let the busy life pass you by. Instead, hold your baby. Teach her something new. Snuggle. Forget about the pressures of the outside world and think instead of the joy you feel when you are simply “Mommy”.

5.  Anytime is bath time. There are no limits to how many baths a child can take in a day. If it makes them happy, fill up that tub!

6.  Explore the world with your baby. You’ll be amazed at what she can show you that you haven’t been willing to see through your own eyes.

7.  Relationships will be built throughout your child’s life. Start building strong relationships early. Let her think the world of her grandparents and spend as much time with them as possible. Help her make little toddler friends. Let her get to know every aunt and uncle and cousin she has. They will always be her family.

8.  You never stop setting an example. Baby see, baby do. Baby hear, baby say. Watch yourself. Don’t only try to not do things that you don’t want them to do, but make sure to do the good things as well. Say please and thank you. Be nice. Be loving. It will melt your heart when you see your child be that kind of copy-cat.

9.  Everything deserves praise. First steps, first song sung, first time sharing; of course you will praise them. But the other seemingly tiny accomplishments deserve cheer and commendation as well. Even if it is just stepping away from the toilet and handing the cell phone back to Daddy.

10.  There are days when you feel like a failure. When you know you haven't tried your best to be a good mom. And even when you have tried, you still haven't done much right. Those are the hardest days. But there is one person who doesn't know it. Your child has the most unique and unconditional kind of love for you. She doesn't know your weaknesses from your strengths. She doesn't know your bad days from good. She knows your face. She knows your touch. She knows your voice. She knows you are her mother. She forgives you for the moments when you just don't have time to hold her, for the times you lose your cool, and for the days when you can't seem to get out of your rut. At the end of the day, you are still her everything. In her eyes, the eyes that matter, you have done everything right.

Click here to read my 10 Lessons Learned During My First Year of Motherhood.

meet-iversary

I love October. My life changed on an October day…

 We met by accident. A perfect accident. My teeth were blue, but I didn’t know it. (Dang blue raspberry dum-dum). He didn’t care. I don’t remember making eye contact with him as we were introduced, but I can still see his dreamy silhouette on that hideous floral couch. I remember everyone else in the room. I remember making a stupid joke about wetting the bed. Awkward. I remember hardly acknowledging him at all for fear that I would make an even bigger fool of myself. I left a few minutes later, wishing I had an excuse to go back and redeem myself. My wish came true in the form of another accidental meeting later that night. We exchanged glances and small-talk. And that was it. As I walked away I surrendered to my urge to turn around and take one last look at him. His bright eyes met mine and we smiled. I felt butterflies in my stomach for the rest of the night.

I thought his name was Mike. I remembered meeting a Mike. So when a boy named
Clay called the next night, I thought it was a prank. I was rude and short and wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then it hit me. Clay is Mike. Clay is the boy with the bright eyes! Strike two. Again, I tried to redeem myself, but he wasn’t buying it. If I wasn’t out with friends without my own car I would have dropped everything and met up with him. But I couldn’t. It was out of my power. I begged him to call me again. Yeah, I begged. He was too tall, dark, and handsome not to beg.

He did call again. We went to his apartment and talked for hours. We took turns asking questions. He liked soccer, golf, reading, and had six siblings. He drove a red Celica and told me he was a racecar driver. He was joking, but I believed him. He was a great dresser. I loved his voice, the way he spoke. I loved the way he talked about his family. I loved everything about him. That night when he dropped me off, he asked when he could see me again. I replied in all sincerity, “Whenever you want.”

That was seven years ago this week. I still get butterflies when we exchange glances. We still talk for hours. I still love everything about him.

Thank you for calling me that night, Clay. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for being the greatest friend and husband a girl could dream of. Thank you for being all I’ve ever needed.

Happy meet-iversary. I love you!

thank you, iowa

I'm not very good at saying goodbye. It seems I've had to do it too many times, especially when the end of another school year comes around and all of our fellow student friends are ready to move on. It's weird that it's our turn now. I thought I was prepared, I thought I was ready to leave, but the closer we get to the end of our time here the more I realize I'm not ready to say goodbye. So instead of focusing on the goodbyes, I will just say thank you...

Thank you to Drake University Law School. Thank you for giving Clay an excellent legal education. For preparing him for a career that he is sure to love. For the classes, the assignments, the papers and the finals that reinforced Clay's decision and desire to pursue this career. Thank you for teaching him, encouraging him, and for helping him become the incredible man he is today.

Thank you to Wells Fargo Home Mortgage. Thank you for employing me for 18 months and giving me an incredible work experience. For giving me the opportunity to see my potential and try to reach it.  For the most productive and positive environment I'd ever worked in. For the daily challenges and for the boosts of self-confidence that I was so deperately in need of. Thank you for pushing me to learn, to become a leader, and to do my very best every single day.

Thank you to our small apartment. Thank you for keeping us close in many different ways. For the times when I was in the kitchen and Clay and Hallie were playing in the living room, but we were still only ten feet apart. For keeping us safe and warm and happy. For being our home sweet home.

Thank you to the Iowa weather. Thank you for showing us that there is most definitely a best and worst of every season. From the beautiful snowfall and the bone-chilling ice storms in the winter to the vibrant green and the booming thunderstorms in the spring to the perfectly sunny days and the sweltering humidity in the summer.

Thank you to our friends. Thank you for reaching out to us and making us feel welcome. For your random acts of kindness, for your helping hands and for your support. Those days when our families seemed a little but further away than normal were the days when you cheered us up the most. Thank you for the game nights, the shopping trips, the girls nights, and the dinners. Thank you for being our friends.

Thank you to our sweet Hallie Mae. Thank you for coming to us during this stage in our lives. For bringing joy and true happiness to us every single day. For giving your dad a smile and a hug after he's come home from a long day of classes. For giving your mom the best job in the world. Thank you for making the lonely times, the trying times, the I'm-ready-to-be-done-with-school times so much easier to get through. Thank you for being our everything.

But most of all, thank you to our Heavenly Father. For never leaving us feeling abandoned and alone. For the friendships, the jobs, for our health and strength, for the trials and for the blessings. Thank you for the many, many answered prayers. For helping us understand that this is what we needed to do and exactly where we needed to be for the last three years. For bringing us here, to Des Moines, Iowa - a place that we have loved calling home.