The longest wait is....

....is, well, it's really long.

Or, at least it seems that way.

Waiting is always seemingly, impossibly, long.

It's been 6 months, and still here we are.

Waiting. Wondering. Hoping. Praying. Waiting.

It seems like we've been standing here in this long line, that is never ending, just waiting for our turn.

Seeing people cut in line, right in front of us. It's not fair. It doesn't seem fair. We're being patient. We're trying to be patient. We're waiting.

So sometimes we pout, and we cry, and in amongst the tears we talk and we laugh, we give hugs that we embrace in longer than we used to. We tell each other we love the other, more often than we used to. We notice the little things that the other person does, and we appreciate it more than we used to. We are growing together, in You, and learning more about You than we used to.

And through all this we still wait.

We are more hopeful now than we used to be, because you have shown us this hope in so many ways in the past 6 months. You have poured out your blessings on us, and provided for us and sent us love through people and your Word, and reminders of your faithfulness spring up and bloom all around us.

But we want it too. We long for it. You promised us the desires of our heart. We know you want to give us those things, because those things are the things that you desire for us in our lives, for us, and we know you will give us these things, because that is your promise. You've never broken your promise. And I know you won't break it now either.

Because you know I am waiting.

You know we are waiting.

And, You know what we are waiting for.

We give it to you.

We trust you. 
We love you.
We praise you.
We thank you.

The Sound of Silence

Silence. 

It can be so quiet and yet so loud all at the same time. 

There has been a lot of silence, here on this page, in this blog, and also in my life.

I have not felt the need or the desire to post here because honestly, I had nothing to write. The words wouldn't come no matter how much I tried.

I have been in listening mode. Waiting for answers. Listening. Being still. Praying. Thinking. Hoping. Dreaming. Listening some more.

I have felt the silence so loudly that it hurts. Deep into my innermost being, it is truly painful at times and overwhelming to the point where I don't want the silence, I long for noise and loud and things that fill my head and my days so that I don't have to be in the silence, in the still place anymore.

It is too quiet and I have felt so alone, on my face and crying out for the silence to end, for doors to open, for where He is leading me.

But still I am waiting. Listening for that still small voice.

For answers to "what's next" and for when, and why and how?

I know He hears me when I call to him. He has been keeping track of all my tears. He longs to fulfill the desires of my heart.

I know all of these things, so I pray and talk to Him and tell him everything that is going on my life, just like best friends do. Still, there are no answers. I do not hear Him.

That loud silence creeps in.

I am waiting. I am longing. I am hopeful.

Even in the silence I know He is there. I know He does not leave or forsake me. I know how much He loves me.

So I sit in the stillness, in the silent place. Listening. Waiting for Him to speak into my heart, into my life. Longing for Him, for His voice.

I know He is trying to teach me something, even through the silence, and I want to learn and to know what that is so desperately.

So I will wait. I will listen. I will pray. I will sing. I will rejoice, even in the silence.

 Because I know He is working something in my life that I cannot even begin to imagine or fathom.

14 years ago

We met.

 I was dating someone else, you just happened to be there at the same time in the same group of friends. We became friends. My relationship ended, and you and me, we continued to be friends, to get to know each other a little bit better. We started hanging out more, it was kind of hard not to when all our friends were dating each other. One night we all went out for pizza and bowling, and you and me were the only ones that were not attached to anybody. We spent the night talking and flirting I smiled at you, you smiled back, we sat next to one another and as the night was ending; me taking off my bowling shoes, you came up and asked me to "make it official, would you be my girlfriend?" I almost fainted right there in that bowling alley. "Yes" was the answer I gave. That was just the beginning.

 Eight years later, you asked me again, to "make it official, would you be my wife?" You put the ring on my finger and I screamed so loud I think people five miles away could hear me as I said "Are you serious?!! Yes!!!" there was much jumping up and down for joy and hugs and kisses that evening, and we drove off into the night to tell my parents. 

One year later, October 6th, 2007 we were married.

 On a day completely unlike today. It was 85 degrees and windy. We were getting married in a church out in the country in Carmel Iowa. I remember getting ready with all my girls, make-up just on, and through the door I heard your voice as you were walking past, and the tears came. Tears of joy and happiness. I was finally going to be your wife after so much time together and I couldn't stop the tears. 

 We met before the ceremony, a moment together alone (with the photographers), you told me how beautiful I looked and how "poofy" my dress was, and I commented on the tie clip I had given you to wear that day. A tie clip my grandmother had given to me to give to you while she told me "Your grandpa wore this on our wedding day", and I was filled with memories of him and all of our other family members who were watching us from above that day. 

 And then it was off for photos with our friends and family. 

My veil blew in the wind, my dress swooshed and swayed as you twirled and dipped me for photos. We smiled so much our cheeks hurt. It was so good. 

 Then the moment came. People, all the people that love and support us so much began to file into the church pews. The music started. I was standing at the end of the aisle with my dad, looking at you standing at the other end, and the tears came again. So happy for this moment, for God's faithfulness in bringing us here to this place together. That was the most important and best walk I've ever taken, the walk into my journey with you. 

 The ceremony was lovely. A great message, music, candles, parents laying their hands on us in prayer, being surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses. And God was there, orchestrating it all. We walked out of the ceremony, I threw my hand holding my bouquet in the air and hollered, and everyone rang bells and clapped and hooted and hollered right along with us. 

 We drove away from the church in the Suzuki with streamers and cans following behind us and wind blowing down a country road, shaving cream that pelted us in the face, and we laughed and talked about what a great story this would be. Some of the best moments of our lives. 

 The night was spent celebrating and dancing, talking and sharing with friends and family who had come from all over the country just to be with us. We are so loved. We realized just how much and how blessed we are to have so many people who love us so much! We danced into the night and drove away around midnight.

 The next couple days are a blur. Everything moved so fast. I packed up the last of my things from my childhood home, hugged and cried some more and waved goodbye to my parents as I hopped in my Honda and followed you in your Chevy down the road to Ames, Iowa. Those were probably the most empty and full of thinking my own thoughts 3 and 1/2 hours that I've ever had. 

We started a new life here together in Ames 5 years ago. 

You're still my favorite. My best friend. The one who loves me through everything. My biggest fan. My shoulder to cry on. The one I still dream with and for.

 I love you. 

Thank you for choosing me.

  I will always choose you.