Death to the status quo

We're here!!! In Chapel Hill, that is. We bid a tearful goodbye to my parents and Charleston on Friday and tooled up the interstate to North Carolina. Mike and Beckie helped us move all of our boxes and boxes and bags and furniture into the apartment and stayed to help us bring some order to the chaos. The craziness is by no means over, but we're getting there. Our new apartment is becoming home and Andrew and I are becoming a family. Everything. is. different. We decided that pretty much we've just now gotten married. The past two months we've just been allowed and encouraged to have sex. (Yep, I said it.) All of a sudden, we're sharing a closet, a bathroom (scream), a kitchen, and everything else in between. All of our belongings are jumbled together--no more having to remember which stuff is mine in order to pack up at the end of the year--we even did our first load of mixed up laundry today. Amazing, I know. Also, we've already accidentally set off the security alarm on the apartment, signed up for Netflix (kudos to Melody and Noah for that) and been to one of our long list of must-see churches. We went grocery shopping together and cooked dinner together for the first time. What did we have, you ask? Why, Greek chicken and curried cous cous! A food so good they named it twice.

One thing I did notice, however, is that we have a lot of stuff. Stuff we "need" and stuff we don't need. And as we were putting everything in it's place these last few days, I realized that just because all of our stuff is here, doesn't mean it's home yet. And then I cried. I know it takes getting used to, a new home and all, but it's still hard to believe sometimes. That whole "my people will be your people and my God will be your God" thing that Ruth threw down was no joke. Home is where my husband is. And that might be on the dadgum moon, but you can bet your sweet tokus I will be there.

One thing my sage mother-in-law asked me during our unpacking frenzy, (I'm sure this was during the 5 hour trip to Lowe's Andrew and Mike took), was about my "five year dream". What do I want to have accomplished in five years? Where do I see myself? A tough, but good question. It's scary to put those things out in space anyway, much less on the internet, but what is trust if not bold and daring? I want to have gone to graduate school and have a better handle on where my nursing career is going. I want to be fluent in Spanish. I want to be able to play the piano--not necessarily to wear a fancy, tulle infused dress and play in a Miss America pageant (that dream is shot for obvious reasons)--but to play for myself and my family. I want to be thinking about kids in five years--maybe. I want to be doing yoga weekly. I want to be able to cook delightful meals without using a recipe. I want to still be able to zip up my wedding dress. I want to have grown in my relationship with the Lord and in my knowledge and love for Him. I want to be able to say that the last five years were not spent waiting on the Lord to use me, but were spent being used. All this and so much more. Call me an idealist, but what is our God, if not ideal?

Andrew is at a men's small group this evening with David Goodman and I am in our cool, quiet apartment watching the healthcare hubbub on CNN. Pictures of our little hovel will be up as soon as I can figure out why my camera has decided to go on strike. I'm hoping to bust out the Kitchenaid mixer soon and make a pound cake (that's what the hubster has requested). Probably won't help the wedding dress zipping situation.