Category Archives: L-O-V-E

Just Keeping It Real


I started this blog to share life and encourage myself to do it bravely. I hope it encourages you to do it bravely too. But I have a confession to make. Something came up in my life that scared me and I couldn’t write a word. Roger and I want a baby.

We thought that’d be pretty easy. I mean, first comes loves, then comes marriage, now all we need is the baby carriage. We agreed before we got married that we weren’t getting any younger and we wanted an average to above average size family so why wait too long? Sure, I’m in full time graduate school and about to start full time work. Sure, finances are tight. But we put it entirely in God’s hands anyway. Wasn’t that nice of us? And as a month or so went by, I planned my adorable baby blog. I’d announce it with something akin to the photos flooding Facebook these days: baby shoes and chalkboards and what-have-you. But as the next couple of months went by, I got anxious.

I told my sisters and a few friends but didn’t broadcast it because I didn’t want friends to awkwardly avoid the subject of children. Hearing about babies and pregnancies brings HOPE and JOY. Keep those baby shoe photos and chalkboard announcements coming! But honestly, who wants to hear that a couple is “trying”? Ew. And then there is the uncomfortable feeling that as soon as someone knows you want a baby, every day you aren’t pregnant you are failing at being a woman. Pleasant conversations about starting a family and having babies suddenly sound accusatory and insulting.

Loving Friend’s Actual Comment: So are you two going to start a family soon or wait a little while?

What I Hear: Is there something wrong with your 30-year-old uterus or are you too selfish to have children?

Twisted. I know. But I have a feeling this may resonate with someone out there. I have the wonderful blessing of being in a community of loving and supportive friends and family who ask loving and supportive questions.  But when it comes to producing what an entire community is waiting and watching for you to produce, the pressure can be a little mortifying. Just keeping it real.

So as the months have clicked by, I have had several panicky prayer sessions. My husband came to the rescue. He told me in no uncertain terms that we would have a family because that is one of the main reasons God brought us together. He also reminded me that God was entirely in control and knows the timing of our family perfectly.

He helps me stay brave.

He helps me stay brave.

And a few amazing things have changed over the last year. First, I have grown to love and respect my husband more than ever, due in large part to the way he has led me out of fear and into faith. Secondly, the Lord has sharpened our calling as a couple and deepened our desire to serve the Lord in any way he calls us. And I have deep peace with the plans He has for us. Lastly, I have been convicted to write about something pretty tough.  I realized that while I can write about mom’s cancer and death, my struggles and fears, love, engagement, and marriage, when it came to this, I was terrified. I didn’t want to share such a vulnerable fight of faith, a fear of failure in an area that should be so natural. I mean, just take a look around, babies happen! But they aren’t happening quite like we thought they would for us. However, I named the blog eb does life. Not eb fakes life. I can’t shut it down because I’m not producing the perfect results here.

So, let’s be real. Life doesn’t unfold the way Pinterest pins it, the way Instagram chronicles it. It unfolds the way God Almighty says so. If you are fighting to believe today, I am right there with you. If you are afraid to tell people that life isn’t going according to your Twitter feed, just remember what this pastor’s kid just told the whole world.

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The Rebel’s Guide to a Good Day


It took me most of the week to make yesterday a good day. That’s right. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were pretty much swing and miss days. Thankfully I think I got a piece of Wednesday so I wasn’t a complete strike-out and had another chance. Thursday was no Babe Ruth home run but it got me on base.

On Monday I began the first sermon in a series by Mark Driscoll called The Rebel’s Guide to Joy. There’s ten or twelve of them and I figured I would do well by learning about joy this week. I was very brave and kind to people on the bus and to people at Crossfit and to my classmates. And then Roger and I went home and made dinner, joyful and kind. And then I started a fight and joy did not matter. And kindness did not matter. And logic certainly did not matter. This was war and I was going to win. Wars aren’t joyful! Wars are serious. So I pulled him into battle and regretted every second of it the next day. Swing and miss.

On Tuesday I stayed home and studied and worked on the Great Nurse Practitioner Job Hunt. I also decided that one sermon hadn’t done the job and apparently I needed more so I listened to The Rebel’s Guide to Joy in Poverty and the Rebel’s Guide to Joy in Humility. Now I don’t think I am impoverished but I could still relate. The humility part just kicked me in the pants. In fact, I was so inspired that I cooked a beautiful dinner and set a romantic table to make amends for Monday’s miss. It was a decent day but since we were still licking our wounds and doing a careful war dance around one another, I can’t call it a win.

Wednesday hobbled along with the help of The Rebel’s Guide to Joy in Suffering and in Death. There’s a one-two combo for you. But I have to hand it to Mr. Driscoll, he pulled it off. Once again, I was grateful in a crazy and weird way for the suffering I experienced through Mom’s cancer and death. I’m not grateful for the actual suffering and death. I’m thankful for the way I found joy in Jesus when there was no joy to be found anywhere else. These sermons reminded me to look back and then look forward with joy and bravery. Which I did until I decided that I missed my Mom an awful lot and decided that being grouchy and sensitive and overreacting to minor events would distract me from this. In all humility, let me tell you, this is a false idea. Another miss.

Thursday dawned with the regret of the irrational wife. But the Rebel’s Guide to Anxiety was on the playlist and I decided it couldn’t hurt. But it did hurt a bit. It crushed my pride, convicted me in a major way, and opened my eyes to a lie I have believed for a long time. Anxiety is not a condition to be managed. It is a sin to be repented of. Now, Pastor Mark admitted, and as a healthcare provider, I wholeheartedly agree, that there are chemical imbalances and true disorders that are conditions. But your average, run-of-the-mill anxiety that leads to your(my) above average, burn-down-the-mill freak-outs is a sin. Jesus tells us to let our gentleness and reasonableness be evident to all as we refuse to be anxious about anything but instead lift our requests, give thanks, and rejoice. When I am anxious, it takes a tiny event to send me into freak-out mode and if I am there, I can say and do what I want because I am ANXIOUS. You want me to be reasonable?! Gentle?! Are you kidding me?! Just wait right there, I am going to freak out and then I can be reasonable. But this is so wrong. And I want to change.

So I meditated on this over the course of the day. I shelved anxiety and chose joy on purpose. That evening Roger and I had a long beach walk and a long talk over picnic dinner about the future and God’s goodness to us. We both did some repenting and some changing. We both had a win. We even saw five satellites. Those are better than shooting stars, right? And we made a plan for the weekend to choose joy and to create change. We don’t want the run-of-the-mill. We want the extraordinary.
Crazy little rebels.

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Dawn Driving and Staying Brave


The Aussie and I share one car. We drive approximately four thousand miles a week but it’s ok. We figure that one car keeps our minds sharp. Like doing a crossword puzzle every day.

“I need to go from point A to point B through K today.”
“Ok, I will drop you at A and you walk to points B to C. Then I can meet you at D and catch the bus to points E through F.”
“Perfect, then I’ll drive the car to point G and we can go to H through J together before I go to K.”

We will never get Alzheimers.

If I want the car for the day, I wake up at 5 am and drive an hour west to take Roger to work. Actually he drives and I finish waking up by talking a lot. He must miss me when I don’t go with him. Poor guy. However, if you know anything about Honolulu traffic, the LAST thing you want to do is drive east between 6 and 8 am on a week day. So, instead of wasting hours of my life and an excessive amount of gas idling in traffic, I don’t go home immediately. Instead, I go to Starbucks. There are some interesting folks at a coffee shop just before 6 in the morning. But I probably fit right in since I am usually still wearing my pajamas. I read my Bible and my textbooks. And sometimes I write blogs. And I have realized that these early morning hours are FAR more productive than the late night hours. So, for now, I am pretty happy with this situation.

This morning I have been contemplating yesterday’s sermon at The Mission. Pastor Tripp encouraged us to consider the places that Jesus would go and the people he would engage with. No place is too scary, too dark. No person is too unlovable, too sinful, too lost. I consider myself a pretty friendly person but I can also be fearful. I try to be brave. But all too often my excuse for not going somewhere or doing something that Jesus would do is that I am just plain scared. I don’t want to be this way. Jesus stood in a really scary place a couple thousand years ago and told his disciples that his church would be built in these kinds of places. But he assured them and us that the gates of hell will not prevail against his church. Gates don’t march at us, we march at gates. And those gates won’t stand up to us. I think that loving purposefully and sincerely is a form of bravery.

So, today I determine once again to be brave. I will be brave at Starbucks and at Crossfit. I will be brave in classes and in the clinic. I will be brave at church and at home. And those gates won’t prevail.
Have a brave day.

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Being Merry and Bright


Since I have finished my semester, I have been able to fully embrace Christmastime. I am not sure what will happen when I am no longer finishing exams and papers right before Christmas. I think when I am working as a Nurse Practitioner in the grown-up world, I will expect everything to come to a halt around December 14 so that I can focus on decking the halls and strolling the malls. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen though so I better enjoy it while it lasts.Here are a few photos of the merry-making around here.

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We bought our very first married people Christmas tree. It is very small. But spirited. The little guy is already loaded with ornamental memories.

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We lit up our little cottage with all kinds of festive things scrounged from Dad’s garage over Thanksgiving….

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The Aussie toured his first Honolulu City Lights. I LOVE the City Lights.

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I’m practically a Dremel spokesperson these days.

We are obviously having a very Merry Driftwood Christmas. ‘Round about the day after Halloween when I began to get the holiday gleam in my eyes when I passed anything tinsel in the stores, I saw Roger get nervous. So I  promised him I wouldn’t buy a single Christmas decoration. All those long walks on the North Shore in the fall yielded some pretty great driftwood hauls.

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Roger even did some decorating of his own.

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And we, of course, hosted a White Elephant gift exchange party. This little tradition is something Roger sort of married into. I believe I have hosted one every year for about 6 years now and this Christmas was the first time I stopped and asked myself if I was the only one who liked these things. The answer was maybe and I did it anyway. Every year there is a good story. There was 2009 when Darren proposed to Stel with an engagement ring wrapped in the last present (It took skills to organize that one). Then there was 2010 when a certain unitard was received…and fought over…and tried on by some very merry men. Then of course, I can’t leave out 2007, the year in which I received Joseph Zephaniah the Beta Fish and best friend Lindsey and I began a year-long saga of beta replacements. So, the White Elephant tradition will continue.

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We also decked the dogs with ribbons and bells. That little guy is Bear. Jasper’s only dog-friend here on Oahu. He’s a bit of a grinch when it comes to making friends.

I hope you are all making merry, loving your friends and family, and worshiping the Savior who is constantly merry over his children!

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Protecting the Peace


I often have very clear dreams about my mom. They are usually happy and I wake up glad and go about my day per the usual. But other times I think I must dream about her without remembering because I will have a lingering nostalgic sense of her in my day. Last week I had one of these days and thought of calling her to tell her some news. Twice. Not the usual “I wish I could tell mom about this” but two times during my day I actually thought “I should call mom and tell her this”. Don’t worry, I’m not crazy and I don’t believe in communication with the dead so put your theology back in your holster. I think that must just happen. Something great comes along and you automatically want to tell the person you have always told. Even if they’ve been gone for over a year. So, I usually pray through the sadness until God restores my peace. And then call Dad and chat his ear off.

What has happened that is so great, you may ask? Roger has started his first American job. That’s right, before you know it I’ll have this guy pledging allegiance to the U.S. of A.

Last week we came home from Kona after a gorgeous Thanksgiving and immediately stopped giving thanks and started asking questions. Should we move? Should Roger apply somewhere we haven’t thought of? Is that even possible? So, unbeknownst to me, the Aussie set aside a morning to pray some serious, down to business prayers. And that very day, he got a call for the best job we could have chosen for him. And we started Thanksgiving all over again. It has been four days and I think my husband is the happiest I have seen him since we moved to Oahu. He bounces out of bed and comes home dog-tired but I have a new found understanding of what work means for the male gender. He is operating on all cylinders now and deliriously happy to be doing it. And trust me, four months, even four years later, he will have the same grin because this guy truly does “do all his work as unto the Lord” and I LOVE it.

So, as the Christmas season traipses along, we are settling into a new routine and I am working to protect my peace. We haven’t landed ourselves solidly in a church community yet as we alternate between our North Shore church and our Kailua church. I have written before about my college friend Todd who preaches up a storm at Kailua Baptist and his wife Natalie. There is something so down right comforting about being around folks who have known you for over ten years . These two have been an encouragement to us. They remind me of college and long conversations over coffee about Jesus and the church, about which plate lunch place made the right color chicken katsu and how to put just the right spin on the ping pong ball.

For the record, that’s the right color.

It was during this time that I memorized the verse Isaiah 26:3 You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in You. I was reminded of this verse again this morning as I listened to my dad’s sermon online (Yep, I’m gettin’ sermons from all over the place!). He challenged us to protect our peace during this season by avoiding robbers of peace and trusting in God’s pardon, protection, and provision.

So, no matter what is going on – happy news, nostalgic moments, stressful days – keep your mind stayed on Him. He WILL come through. He WILL give the victory. He WILL bring encouragement. And He WILL keep us in perfect peace this Christmas.

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Hopes Raised


Well, we are still married. Just in case you were wondering. I mean, I think my grandmother still wonders sometimes. During those few minutes when Roger and I were dating, I would get a Grandmomie Voicemail once a week. “Hi Erin, just calling to say hi and I love you. So, are you still dating that Australian? Just checking. Love, Grandmomie.” You always wait for the sign off because she always signs off and that’s how you know it’s authentic. So I try to keep her updated regularly now that we are indeed still married. And since my blog has gone woefully silent, I thought I should just let you all know too.

The past month has been a rough one in some ways. Jobless, car-less, and bordering on hopeless on the worst days. I kept trying to think of ways to put a cute spin on it but would inevitably circle back to the fact that we still had no jobs, our car was smashed on the curb with threatening neighbor notes attached, and sometimes entire days were used just trying to remedy those things. But after stressful days of studying, job-hunting, and car shopping, we have still been having fun. We walk the beach, we play with the dog, we cook, and lately, we have been enjoying our new favorite show, Raising Hope.

My childhood friend, Kelly Metcalf Wilkes, recommended it to us and it couldn’t have come in a better season. The Chance family, struggling to make ends meet, dealing with their collective idiosyncrasies, and loving each other fiercely, has us belly-laughing every time no matter how many lemons we test drove that day. When Burt Chance struggles with understanding politics, I sneak glances at my Aussie husband. And for some reason when the demented MawMaw dances around the house with her clothes on backwards, Roger sneaks his glances. Which is weird. Because I don’t do that often. The thing we love most about the show is how much Burt and Virginia Chance love each other. Through it all.

So we’ve been trying our best to love each other fiercely but sometimes we just remember the fiercely part. These little life hiccups of not having a car or a job kept leading to arguments. Our arguments have been pretty spectacular as most newly wed spats probably are. My parents did their best to train me out of my temper but sometimes I take the attorney part of my father and the spitfire side of my mother and take arguing to legendary levels.  Thankfully Roger hasn’t learned too many arguing strategies beyond keeping his cool and ending them reasonably (amateur) and I wear myself out pretty quick and learn valuable lessons. Monday was a great example.

We had just pulled our borrowed car into its rightful garage to return it to our friends after a month long loan.

Roger: [Turning hose on inside of garage] Let’s give it a quick spray.

Me: [With frantic look] No, no, no! Don’t wash it in the garage!

Roger: [In a slightly more irritable voice than I deemed necessary] Ok, move the car then and hurry up.

Me: [With a haughty silence that we both know I can never keep up for long] You can wash the car yourself! Something unreasonable! And rude!

Roger: [Manly silence that we both know he can keep up for as long as it takes]

Me: [While dumping soapy sponges down his back in a more Angry Housewife way than Desperate Housewife way] And wash this! I’m going to study at Starbucks.

Roger: [After washing and drying the car by himself and coming to find me and buying me my favorite Green Tea lemonade]: Reasonableness. Unnecessary apologies. Good husband stuff.

And that’s the kind of guy I am dealing with here! I know, so hard. He makes me better every day. But our difficult times have made it really hard for me to translate into cute blogs. I’ve been discouraged that my prayers for an extraordinary life that changed other lives had been reduced to “let us get through the month” prayers.

But this week we have had our Hopes Raised. We found a fantastic deal on a beautiful little 2003 Jetta and we bought it on Saturday. Which is the reason we returned the car and then after our Car Wash Explosion, Roger was called in for a job interview. He starts next week. God answered our prayers. And this morning I had a conversation with someone very important to me about God’s plan for her life. We talked about Jesus’ fantastic love for us. And she lifted my eyes to see the goodness of our Savior in the good and the difficult.

So here’s my encouragement to you, whether you are newly married, oldly married, or single: Take Hope. It’s not always about looking extraordinary to the onlookers, it’s about never losing hope that the extraordinary will happen. Despite of tempers like mine.

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Aussie Aussie Aussie


I have found recently that I don’t have long stretches of time for blogging like I used to. I used to come up with sentences in my head that sounded SO good that I just had to share them.  Now, I just say those sentences to Roger. Sometimes he responds by telling me how awesome I am and how life-changing my words were. Other times he continues building a bookshelf or fixing the car or cooking a gourmet meal and only “hums” and nods at my brilliance and I realize I should start doing something a tiny bit more useful. But today, I finished a midterm Pediatrics exam and have two hours until my next useful task and I can tell you about our most recent adventure.

I’m hooked on this place.

A few weeks ago Mama Leanne called to chat and asked when we may be able to take them up on their wedding gift of tickets to Australia. The conversation went something like this: New Years? Sister Samara will be in Europe. Christmas? Papa Paul will be in Africa.Thanksgiving? Leanne and Paul will be in Perth. Ok, this family does some serious traveling. Wait, what about next month? It’s crazy but it could work. Hang on, tickets are a lot cheaper next week. Booked, done, heading to Australia that Tuesday! It took a few days for it to sink in that we were going on an international trip….I felt very American and inexperienced. Who knew I needed an online visa? Not me. And a passport? Yep, dig that up in Kona and have it expressed over! Roger even made an appointment with immigration to make sure he would get back in the country. I didn’t think of that either. Good thing my husband is so international. This also means that he is still getting used to the right side of the road. A fact he insists had nothing to do with totaling our car the night before we left (stay tuned for more on that little episode).

We hopped on the plane happy with some upgraded seats and 10 1/2 hours and 6 episodes of BBC Sherlock later, landed in Roger’s Homeland. We spent twelve days with Mama Leanne and Papa Paul, Brother Bruce and Perin and kiddos, Sister Samara and Heath and baby, and Sister Tiffanie and John. We ate fish and chips at Byron Bay, explored Surfers Paradise at night, toured around the countryside, and saw all manner of Australian animals. I “pumped yabbies” and caught more fish than I’ve ever caught in my life (like five). Some of my favorite days were spent on the water in the Beasley’s 83 year-old boat, the Coranto. Think African Queen minus the mosquitos. Absolutely gorgeous.

Although I loved being a tourist, the best part of our Australian Adventure was falling in love with my husband’s history. Basically, I have eight new best friends. His family is legitimately awesome and I now know my husband in a completely new way. He fishes and boats because the WHOLE country fishes and boats, hee builds things because he was raised with a garage FULL of building materials and he knows wildlife because it lives in his backyard. His sisters talk like him, his brother laughs like him, and his parents cry like him. He teases his sisters like he teases me, he walks around barefoot like his brother, and if anything is broken, he can figure it out just like his dad. His mom looks into my eyes like she is reading my thoughts (and she usually is) just like my husband does. He just makes so much more sense.

And I love it.

 

 

 

 

 

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It Was a Good Day


As promised, an embarrassment of photos. You have my permission to scroll quickly. It’s just another wedding blog. But it was MY wedding. How crazy is that.

Mom’s dress from June thirty-one years ago. Perfect fit.

Last minute choices from a dainty array of heirlooms.

My something blue from Grandmomie Carol…little sapphire earrings.

I won’t devote the rest of my blogs to wedding reminiscing but I will say that I unashamedly reveled in the best day of my life.

We had a wonderful little cottage on the ranch to use for the ready and waiting spot.

One of my favorites with my favorite sisters.

Joining the marrieds.

They were the best bridesmaids I could have asked for. A twin sister, a little sister, a hair-dresser best friend that gave me any sense of style I may have today, a best friend from 1st grade, a pen-pal from middle school that turned into a real life best friend, and a missionary roommate that prayed me through nursing school.

I tried to enjoy every moment but at this point I was close to sprinting down the aisle.

One of my photographers had this fun idea. I think she’s good at what she does, what do you think? http://www.rebeccaarthursblog.com

The boys had some fun getting ready too. Please note the Aussie pose. Without fail.

had no idea how deliriously happy and exhilarated I would feel. It felt like a combination of winning a contest, taking a bow at the end of a Broadway musical, and having a surprise party thrown by all your best friends in your honor.

Papa Paul – the best man. Rog comes from a long line of handsome and good natured.

Sam and the final brother-in-law.

Australian-American Lesson #59: Boutonnieres are put on upside down. Both ways looks pretty good. Also, for the record, Mama Leanne is a former model and is positively stunning.

The Maid of Honor definitely found those yellow ties the day before the wedding. Lindsey saved the day about 500 times in one month. That’s like 16.6 times a day.

Saying yes to this guy was a breeze.

It was perfect. Sunny and misty.

We used one of Mom’s songs for the processional and Sara and Ryan sang some beautiful hymns during communion.

Sister Sara’s daughters were my flowergirls. Sometimes I stare at this photo and wonder how it is possible for kids to be this stinking cute.

Merry Married Mitsudas.

I know I should have expected my wedding to be great but I was surprised by the level of greatness. Seriously. Heaven celebrated with us. I’m not making that up.

Roger’s crates that we feminized. Also, can you believe those flowers? Those are thanks to Maid Of Honor’s Mama Linda.

Photographer Eric captured many of these images including this promise over our celebration. http://www.efrankevisuals.com

Worth. Every. Penny.

And this guy was the one who got me here. Had me, raised me, prayed me through the wait, paid me through the wedding, and remains the best dad I could ask for.

And this is the one I get to spend the rest of my days with. Happily Ever After.

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Hello From a Brave New World


And I’m back. In an abundance of words, thoughts, and happenings, I froze. But the blogging hiatus is over.

The Perfect Day (the next blog will have an embarrassing amount of photos so get ready.)

After a storybook wedding, a honeymoon in paradise, and three months of Mr. and Mrs., I am now writing to you from the tropical land of Married People. It’s a pretty great place to live but here’s the thing, I kept waiting for the Super House Wife phase to set in so that I could make my blog look really good. You know the kind: Polaroids of aprons and cookies. Homemade decorations. Lunches packed in eco-friendly ways as my husband traipses off to his perfect job. I could even change the name of the blog. Something like “EbdoesPerfect”. But it’s been three months now and I’ve made one batch of failed cookies, my decorations are barely out of storage, and we are still waiting on Roger’s Green Card so he usually packs my lunches for school.  We are hilariously happy and stupid in love but, I have had the epiphany that most of you Married People have all had: Marriage is the ultimate test of bravery. Yes, it is.

I started this blog as a way to stay brave as described here. I am naturally fearful but I don’t like being afraid. God has led me through some scary times including quitting a good job, starting a career I never knew I wanted, taking care of my mom for a five year fight against a truly terrible cancer, figuring out how to live without her, and watching friends marry off and reproduce as I tried to hold it together. All of these things took a brand of courage one only gets supernaturally and, although I have a fantastic family and incredible friends that were in it with me, I was still alone. Now, I am finding that joining my life to another human being is wonderful, comforting, exciting, and essentially, pretty terrifying. No, really. He would agree. It’s straight up scary.

Here is the scary truth: we moved to Oahu with no jobs, one car that’s been giving Herby-esque farewell hints, and definitely no idea where we were going to live. For two weeks we established home-base in a friend’s guest bedroom where I would be alternately reading every single post on Craigslist or breathing into a paper bag as landlord after landlord asked us pesky questions like “How will you pay rent?” Details. It was in these hyperventilated moments that my husband came through, because he is a champ, and prayed me back into shape. We were in it together. I had the responsibility of encouraging him and respecting his decisions and he had the responsibility of lovingly scraping me off the floor every time I melted down. All I wanted was to pack him a lunch but we didn’t have a kitchen and he didn’t have anywhere to go. So I had to be a different kind of awesome. A brave kind of awesome.

Today, we live in a delightful house on a Kaneohe hillside with super neighbors and a landlord that loves to give Roger construction projects. The place is so cute these days that I may have to take some polaroids soon and show you. Our car has even been starting regularly and Roger has some job leads that look very promising. As for me, school continues to truck along and I am in a pediatric clinical rotation that I love. So, the scary truths aren’t SO scary. I still have the brave responsibility of encouraging and trusting Roger with my well-being and he has the courageous duty of loving me through my fear and pulling me back into orbit when I start to whirl away.

We are figuring it out a day at a time and almost every morning I wake up and realize that there is a human being who will always be there. ALWAYS. This is both weird and wonderful.

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Gotta have the Rain to Make the Rainbows.


When one does not write a blog entry for several weeks, it always helps to have something life changing happen to get the writing back in gear. On Saturday, sister Megan married Shaun Mitsuda. Three cheers for marriage, rainbows, and adorable Caucasian-Asian babies one day.

Megan planned the most excellent wedding ever (photos to prove it coming soon) and then let us take it from her visonary hands the day before the wedding as we forced her to be the pampered bride. Don’t get me wrong. she was no bridezilla. She was gracefully and happily calling, erranding, and directing and would have given J-Lo a run for her wedding planning money but we insisted she prepare for her walk down the aisle. And she did, beautifully.

A team of expert friends and professional family readied the ceremony site into a garden walk and the reception site into an evening garden wonderland, exactly according to Megan’s dreams. There were hanging potted plants, 200 bottles of garden roses and ranunculus, a photo booth, a dance floor rimmed in large bulbed lights, and individually wrapped matchboxes waiting for the sparkler exit. And then, at 5:25, it rained. A lot.

Sara and I sat in the car with Megan that was to bring her around for the beginning of the ceremony and as the rain beat harder and harder on the windshield and Megan became quieter and quieter, I thought about Mom. I haven’t been angry about it for a long time but sitting there watching Megan fight the emotion of a possible rain-out, I felt the anger rise up that God didn’t let Mom stay for our weddings and that now he was letting it rain.

My prayers in my head began sounding the same as when Mom would be hurting and I didn’t feel like a calm nice prayer. I felt like shaking my fists and reminding God of what we were all going through and that he was in charge of it. In that rainy car, I couldn’t say anything but “Jesus” because I knew the fists would start shaking. And then Dad knocked on the window and squeezed in to the backseat with us and he prayed. He told God how good he was and how thankful we were. He told God how much we loved him and trusted him. And he asked in Jesus name for a beautiful wedding. I watched Megan praying silently and not allowing her emotions to overcome her. And I was filled with a huge joy to be part of our family and gratitude for the roads we have walked together. The rain relented to a shower rather than a downpour. And we were a go.

Somehow in the space of 25 minutes, Sara and I had a few last moments of sister jokes with Meg, Dad found a beach umbrella to walk her down the aisle with, and Shaun and Megan pledged their lives to one another under a beautiful double rainbow. And there was not a dry eye in the garden. Or a dry anything else either. But it was perfect.

The rest of the night was a 400 person party complete with luau food, the greatest best man speech I have ever heard (followed closely by the maid and matron of honor speeches), and some seriously good dancing. Yes the bride and groom have moves but my fiance also made a pretty lasting impression on the extended family with his line dancing skills. And I was grateful once again for the man I get to marry.

And it only took six hours to clean up. Let’s do it again in two weeks.

No really, we are.

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