Better Late Than Never

Well, would you look at that...I still have a blog. 

And I have an answer to "what happens when I date" too.

Valentine's Day is approaching and I thought I would pick this thing back up again, because it seems timely and appropriate.  I then realized I'm a bad, inconsistent blogger.  I haven't written since August and that seems totally unfair to all of you, because I know you're so desperate to read & know about my life.  Let's start with the biggest thing first, shall we?

I'm engaged. 

Shocked, are we? I know.  So was I.  It's true.  Someone (Mr. Wild Card, to be exact) asked me to put on a weighty and absurdly expensive white dress and legally bind myself to him.  He's gotta be crazy.

We'll be getting married this fall and I'm in the process of planning now.  Note: by "planning", I mean getting completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions I have to make and instead of doing that, watching endless episodes of Army Wives from the comfort of my bed.  It's bizarre to think that this time next year when I'm apologizing for not writing more, I'll be a wife to a man who gladly deals with me crying because Mission Burrito forgot to put shrimp in my bowl.  Wow.  Bananas.

And yet, I'm still not really sure how I got here.  I have a ring on my hitchin' finger and a guy who loves me consistently and fully.  I feel like the girl who was unsure of whether or not she was going on a date is a stranger.  I'm more self-assured and confident.  I'm less weary and wandering.  I've grown.  I'm more of me than I have been in a very, very long time.  How did I change into this person from the one I was?  I can say, without hesitation, that love grew me.  Love mended me.  Love righted me.

While none of my change is simply because Mr. Wild Card gave me a ridiculously gorgeous piece of jewelry, the love from someone who loves me absolutely and unconditionally has caused my heart to overflow with happiness and contentment.  Having someone love me as I love them is the most perfect and honest thing that this life has given me so far.  The way Mr. Wild Card cares for me is unselfish and unabashed.  My fear of abandonment fades with each passing day.

See friends, this kind of love is the kind that God wants for us.  This kind and patient love. This honest and true love.  This is the love that we are to yearn for - not the kind of love that fades away with time or distance.  Not the kind of love that simply makes us feel good.  Not the kind of disposable or manufactured love that the world shows us. 

The romantic love Christ has intended for us, the kind bound in honor and founded in sacrifice, is the kind of love that can be transformative and boundless.  Just like His love for us. How did it take me so long to see that?

I've found my forever person.  That, my friends, is what happens when I date.

~j

In The Land of Blood and Thirty

Today is my 30th birthday. 

Yay?

I'm excited because birthdays can be fun and I have the distinct feeling that is one is going to be extra great.  On the other hand, I'm getting a little bit contemplative.  I had this idea of what my life might look like at 30 when I was younger and nothing is really like I thought it would be, but that's not necessarily bad.  There is a reason why my life is like it is and am I ever grateful for that.

I woke up this morning feeling no different, but the fact is guys, I'm really getting old.  It's true.  I'm not young anymore.  I mean, I still feel young-ish, but I'm an actual responsible adult and choices I make now are typically thought out and premeditated.  When I was younger I didn't give a care!  Now, I think about the consequences and rewards.  When did I become this person?  I guess somewhere between 20 and 30 I actually learned something that resembles maturity. 

I drew up a list of things that are different now that I'm 30 from when I was 20:

• I'm not able to stay up late and wake up early like I did in college.  (Well, the afternoon naps really helped with that ability, I must say!)  I can't function the next day.  I'm miserable until I get to go to sleep, which is usually at about 9:00 p.m..
• Speaking of going to bed early, I do that now.  A lot.
• And I nap, not out of laziness or staying up late, but out of necessity.
• I don't care what people think about me.  I like me.  I am pretty awesome.  If you don't feel the same, that's really your problem to deal with, not mine.  (And I mean that in the most gracious of ways.)
• I'm unapologetic about my beliefs.  God is amazing and does incredible things in my life everyday; I'm never going to be quiet about that.
• I'm way more willing to try new things.  
• I'm much cuter now.
• No, really.  Much cuter.
• I'm lumped into a older age bracket.
• Creepy old men don't leer at me as often.
• I have winkles, legitimately use eye cream and worry about fine lines.
• I get heartburn. From: Just. About. Everything.
• I worry about my cholesterol.
• When I like an article of clothing, I actually think "is this age-appropriate?"
• My dreams are more realistic.  Instead of daydreams about becoming a great singer/songwriter or meeting/marrying Luke Perry, my visions are of paying off my school loans and buying a hybrid car.

I can't say that any of those changes are bad.  They are just my way of developing into a slightly better version of who I was before.  Well, hopefully I'm better.  I'm more confident and, as a result, happier.  I don't like the fact I have to check a new age range box, but it happens to everyone.  All children grow up. 

In fact, being the youngest in my new group feels pretty good - it also means I may be able to actually win something in a race now!  (Honesty moment: Let me tell you something, racing against nubile 21 year olds is not good for your self-esteem.)

I'm looking forward to the challenges and celebrations that this year brings and being able to share that with all of you.

~J   

Idle Hands Do the Devil's Texting Work

I'm usually an advocate of texting.  It's an easy form of communication for short things - pick up this at the store!, are you here?, here's the address - and it's usually how I talk to people now (except when I'm driving, of course).  But could there be anything worse than trying to date in the age of texting?  I think not.

When I send a text to a friend, I don't care when or if I get one back.  When I send a text to a guy, I watch the phone like it's going to do some sort of magic trick.  Every time a phone within ear shot goes off, I'm checking my screen to see if it was me, even though it obviously wasn't.  (Did it just buzz?  I thought I heard it buzz!)  I hate the whole thing because I, friends, am impatient.  If you just texted me a second ago, what is taking so long to send back a response to my witty comment?!? <- See?  Crazy! *le sigh*   

Oh, the agony of waiting for a response!  After 10 minutes of no communication, I'm reasonable and think "Oh, he's busy, right?"  After 20 minutes, I'm a little less reasonable.  "He's busy" turns into "He's ignoring me.  Did I say something wrong?"  When 20 minutes turns into an hour, I'm dying.  "What did I do?  Am I that awful?  I'm an idiot.  I'm being stupid, right?  Yeah, I'm being silly, but really he probably thinks I'm a weirdo dumdum who smells."  (I have a lot of internal dialogue; I really hope that's normal.)   

I tend not to text first, at least in the initial phases.  I know this seems counterintuitive, but it's how I do it.  (Sidenote: A friend's husband once told me that "eager beats pretty," so maybe I should rethink my texting policy.)  Once I actually text first, I spend some time concocting what I consider to be the perfect text.  Breezy!  Light!  Funny!  I'm a fun girl!  Just checking in, no pressure!  Then I send a text out into the universe and it's gone.  It hangs out in the air space while I die a slow death caused by the anticipation of a response.  Oh, Tom Petty, you were right - the waiting is the hardest part.