operation: baby

Friends, I need your help.  As you know, we’ve begun a fertility run-up to help us toward our goal of having children.  While we have insurance, this is costing more than we had realized and we’re nowhere near done with the process yet.  To fund this, we have been using the money I make from see what I sea designs.  Right now we’re in a holding pattern until we can save up for further testing.  I need your help to spread the word about the shop so we can hasten the process of testing and bringing home a child.   Here’s what I need you to do: Please share the blog, Facebook page, instagram,  and the shop and spread the word! To sweeten the deal, I’m offering 15% off your entire purchase with the code OPERATIONBABYF until the end of June.  Please share the code with your friends.  We’re doing all that we can but still need more help!

But wait! There's more!  (Said in my very best infomercial voice)  If we can get up to 250 likes on the facebook page, I’ll do a giveaway for a print from the shop.  Any print.  And there are some really, really great ones!

Thank you all for your comments, notes, emails, phone calls, and hugs as we figure out this process.  It has and does mean more than I can express!  Operation Baby is underfoot, but still a ways off!  Please help us even further on this journey!

my father dwelt in a tent

Mr. F and I have been crazy focused on our finances since our move to Atlanta.  Not that we've ever been bad at spending our money, we just haven't been as good at it as we could have been.  In Cyprus, we were totally strapped.  People thought we were crazy and joking, but we weren't.  It took some serious ingenuity and lots of homemade everything to keep us in the black.  Mr. F's new job is offering us some very welcome financial security after a year of unemployment and a couple hard years of scraping by.  We thought when we got here, we would want to live in a nicer place.  More amenities, closer to the center, nice appliances, etc., etc.  We've earned it. We told ourselves.  So we looked.  And looked.  And looked.  And ya know what?  We really weren't happy with what we were seeing.

No, that's not true.  We loved some of the options.  Downtown high rise with views of the sunset that made my the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.  Or the darling one-bedroom with a sunroom and a view of the trees just outside the Perimeter.  Those were the homes of daydreams.  They technically fit inside of our budget and met the qualifications for the lifestyle we thought we were after, but something was wanting.  We weren't willing to spend as much as the landlords were asking.

One afternoon when I was in the city running errands, I got horribly lost and end up driving past an apartment complex that listed vacancies.  It was nothing special.  In fact, I was initially embarrassed pulling into the parking lot.  What would people think of me pulling in here with my nice Volkswagen? Vanity, thy name is foolish.  I stepped into the leasing office and made some inquiries.  The rent was well below our set budget and the availability seemed promising.  A few days later, Mr. F and I went back to check out a one-bedroom. 

For the first time in our house hunt, we agreed on an apartment.  It felt like home.  And the strange thing is, it met very few of the qualifications we thought were so important to us.  It's only a one-bedroom.  Itty bitty kitchen.  Wall unit AC, not central.  No washer/dryer hook-ups.  Carpet, not hardwoods.  No gym.  No brunch for tenants on Sunday morning.  But it had a great price. Great layout.  And a great feel.

A few weeks ago, I was reading in the scriptures and pondering over our quest to be more financially savvy and the, as we called it, Rat's Nest apartment.  In 1 Nephi in the Book of Mormon, Nephi tells us that he and his brothers followed their father, Lehi into the wilderness surrounding Jerusalem.  Lehi was the prophet and under the guidance of the Lord had taken his family outside the city walls to protect them and to preserve the fullness of the Gospel.  In 2:15 I read, "And my father dwelt in a tent."  That's it.  The whole verse.  And it hit me with the force of the lengthiest sermon.  If a prophet could leave his home and live in a tent, you sure as heck can live in the Rat's Nest for a year or so.  It was true.  I could.  From my religious upbringing I have learned the value of self-reliance and the importance of living within your means.  The Lord told Lehi to live in a tent.  He is asking us to live more frugally.

And so now, we're moving to the Rat's Nest.  I'm not sure we will ever call it anything else.  No, there weren't really rats.  I am so excited about this move, I can't even tell you!  We both are!  To be saving so much money, to be living in closer proximity to both of our jobs.  Our church community will be incredibly diverse, as will our neighborhood.  We will be doing what God asks of us so that we can be ready for the future, not just the right now.  And that is worth so much more than protecting my precious vanity.

easter mourn

I keep thinking about Easter and how I should try and tell you how beautiful our table looked thanks to some cheap flowers and vessels from around the house, or how I made the best ham ever, or how nice it was to be together, but I can't focus in on any of it.  Not yet.  Easter, while it contained all of those things, gained new meaning to me this year.

A young mother, barely older than myself, passed away on Sunday morning.  She is sister to an old friend of mine and a dear friend to many.  At such a young age, she lost a crippling battle with cancer. Throughout her treatment, I kept a close eye on the reports her family was sending out.  What started as a little lump and breast cancer metastasized and spread to her brain.  I thought often of her husband and children, having been the daughter of a cancer patient, and wished I could do something more for them but knowing they just really needed each other.  As I read their blog, I saw that her words were words of strength and hope, her husband's of faith and tenderness.  I have so much love and respect for this little family.

A consistent note to news of her death was the significance of her passing on Easter, a day that celebrates the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  The timeliness of this taught me deeply about God's plan and how death is but a small part in it.  I heard from one of this mother's dear friends on Sunday.  She told me that she was sad that she would have to wait to see her friend for awhile.  This sentiment was not filled with a haunting of the eventual death that finds all of us, but a hope for the life yet to come thanks to the gift of our Savior.  I marvel in that faith and hope.

As I write this, Mr. F and I are preparing for a day in Orlando to visit the temple, a place in our faith where we believe that families are sealed together for time and all eternity.  Love is not just for this life.  Nor family.  They are the things of forever.  I am so grateful for a young mother I barely knew for reminding me of this, for the lesson her life and death have taught her young children, and for the steady faith of her in husband in Jesus Christ.

In my head ring the words of the Easter hymn,

He is risen! He is risen!
Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory.

wwebd?

It's rather fitting that this post comes at the close of the year, as most of us ponder resolutions to carry us through the next twelvemonth and help us improve.  My meditations on this subject have been brewing for quite awhile and have finally percolated in time for tonight's countdown.

For the past few months, I have been grappling with a slow, angry bout of Depression.  What finally alerted me to my current situation was one little thing:  I like leaving the house even less than usual.  I'm an introvert, I like being home, but lately, I avoid leaving.  I make excuses to the point where it's really not healthy.  (I know, I'm starting to sound like somebody from Hoarders...)  Knowing that something is wrong helps, but figuring out a solution sometimes takes some serious time and effort.

A few weeks ago, Mr. F and I managed to get out on a Saturday morning.  We went running and wandering through a local park for a long time.  Not only was it my first encounter with honest to goodness exercise in who knows how long, it was the first time I was really out in nature.  The sun soaked in through my skin and the darkness that had been clouding my mind disappeared for a few minutes.  All at once I remembered my favorite books, the heroines who have inspired my life and...I was ashamed.  What would they think of me if they could see me now? I thought.  This is not how Anne or Lizzy would be living their lives.  They would want me to be happy.  And all at once a mantra was born.

WWEBD?
or
What would Elizabeth Bennet do?

I thought of my favorite books, mainly anything Austen or from the Anne of Green Gables series.  The characters in these novels, which I have read, re-read, then read again, have seeped into me, becoming old friends and a part of who I am.  Over the years, I have turned to them to sort out my love life, figure out how to handle school, how to handle marriage, and coping with loss.  It only seemed fitting, therefore, that the lifeline I was seeking for a healthy lifestyle should come from them.  Pondering over their fictional experiences, I honed five simple guidelines that I have been trying to impart into my daily life.

1.  Read.  Not watch a movie or listen to NPR, READ!  As a lover of the written word, it is dumbfounding how often I substitute a book for a blog.  Reading a good book is so rejuvenating, enlightening, and very often feeds my creativity.  Books have a way of challenging me to be better, by broadening my understanding or filling my imagination to such an extent that all I want to do is create.  Very often after finishing a thoroughly engaging read, all I will want to do is paint, write, or make something.  If I can do it outside, all the better!

2.  Visit.  All of the Austen novels are based on neighbors interacting.  Without this simple action, there would never be a Mr. Darcy or Captain Wentworth.  Without visiting, Anne Shirley would never have met Diana Barry, heaven forbid!  As an introvert, this one is unbelievably hard for me.  I would so often like to stay at home because I feel awkward and clumsy around others.  But it is so good to do, and how on earth will I ever find more kindred spirits by staying on my sofa?

3.  Go for a walk.  I regularly have the phrase, "What are men to rocks and mountains," echo through my mind.  How can one experience life if they never leave their front door?  (If Bilbo could go on an adventure, so can I.)  I have gleaned from these novels a sincere love of nature.  Getting out of doors rejuvenates the senses, blows out the cobwebs of worry, and stimulates the body.  Very often, a quick Coke run to get me out of the house will change my mood drastically.  I can only imagine what a daily, thorough walk taking in the wonders of this island would do!

4.  Faith.  A constant throughout my favorite books is faith and hope.  Whether it be faith in people, like Anne Shirley's hopeless optimism, faith in God, or faith in self, like the Goose Girl had to find.  Faith is essential and so closely connected to hope.  But it is also something that requires constant diligence, through study, observance, perseverance, and a joyful attitude.

5.  Write. My second favorite of the Anne books is while she and Gilbert are engaged.  The entire book is her letters to Gil, full of her adventures, triumphs, and failures.  Not only did she probably keep a personal journal, but she was an avid correspondent.  She wrote, and she wrote a lot.

To me, the writing element is more "hone and exercise your talents" than "sit down and write."  I need to sing more, sketch more, take up a pen in my hand and feel it glide across a blank page.  Is there anything more delicious than the feeling of a good pen?  I love that feeling and haven't been searching it out enough.  It also means developing these talents, stretching them and molding them to their fullest capacities.

So, friends, this is my New Year's resolution.  It's not trendy.  It's probably a little hard to understand that it's stemmed from my battle with Depression.  But so it is.  My goal is to be healthy, but in a way I can understand; by tying back together the pieces of me that I love most.  The pieces I recognize best in my favorite heroines, who are also my oldest friends.  Sure, I have plans to organize the house and shed a few pounds, but those somehow all fit into these five guidelines in my mind.  By digging deep into the nooks of me that have been hiding these past few months and thinking, What would Elizabeth Bennet do? I'm really thinking, How does Engquist want to live?

the skinny

I've been trying to figure out how to write this post since we received the news I'm about to share with you. The reason I'm so hesitant is it has absolutely everything to do with our faith.  With that, I'm hoping you'll stick with me through this because I am absolutely ACHING to share this news with you!

Before I tell you, you need to understand a few things.  First, Mr. F and I are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, more commonly referred to as the mormon church.  We are, as the name of our church implies, Christians.  Unlike many other Christian faiths, we do not have paid clergy.  We all work as volunteers.  I say we because as a member of the LDS church, it is understood that you will also serve.  We all take turns as teachers, preachers, youth leaders, and so many other things it's rather mind boggling!  The thing is, all of these callings, as we refer to them, are essential to the day to day function of the Church and to helping us grow spiritually.  We also believe that these callings come from God through revelation.  We whole heartedly believe that our Father in Heaven still communicates with not only prophets on the earth today but with each of us individually, providing guidance and insight for our day to day lives.

Lastly, you need to understand that we belong to a worldwide church.  It is impeccably organized!  So much so that I knew when we moved here what Sunday School lesson to anticipate since it would be from the same manuals and lesson plans used worldwide.  Congregations are not decided by choice but by location.  Geographic boundaries mark up the borders for wards (a large congregation) or branch (small congregation).  Each of these congregations has their own bishop (for a ward) or branch president (for a branch), callings that are issued to worthy men within our church.  These men will more often than not have full-time jobs outside of these callings, not to mention families, wives, and other responsibilities to beg for their attention.  It is a huge responsibility.

About a month ago now, Mr. F and I got a call asking us to meet with a regional authority of the church. Mr. F spoke with him first while I awaited the news.  When I was invited into the office I learned that my 27 year-old husband had been asked to serve as the branch president of our little congregation.  Guys, I can't reiterate enough how big of a deal this is.  Not because my husband has higher standing in the Church now, which he really doesn't, or that someone other than me thinks he's really special.  No, it's major because our Father has entrusted the care of His children and His work in Nicosia to Mr. F.  The spiritual, physical, emotional care of them all.  Such trust and confidence is rather overwhelming. To put it in other words, he is now the minister of our branch.

Mr. F responded really well to the call, taking it on him and stepping into the role with grace, maturity, and faith.  I really admire him for his.  I have not been as gracious.  I, at first, was scared.  With Mr. F's work schedule, I see him very rarely as it is, compound this with his new responsibilities at church, and I might as well be a widow.  Hence my response in my Thankful Thursday post showing deep, deep gratitude for the friends I have made here in Cyprus.  I shared the news of Mr. F's call with them and they all instantly said, "Come on over!"  There's no chance I'll ever be alone.

Though it has only been a few weeks, I can already see a change in our day to day lives  We are being deeply blessed for the work Mr. F is so faithfully attending to.  Our relationship has strengthened, our finances seem to be stretching a little bit further than they should, and opportunities for me to serve with my husband and to be with other people keep popping out of the woodwork.  It has been a deep testament to me that if we are willing to do the work the Lord asks of us, we will never want for anything.  He asks us to work hard, to do all that we can, and sometimes even a bit more, but when we do it, He makes up the rest and provides where we fall short.  Friends, I am so incredibly grateful for my husband and his willingness to serve.  I honestly don't know if I could do what He is doing so willingly.  He's scared but stepping forth boldly with the confidence that the Lord has asked him to do this.  So he is doing it!

I do ask for your prayers though.  While things are coming together, Mr. F's calling is a huge burden that neither of us can handle without the love, support, and prayers of all of you.

day trip to israel

We went to Israel yesterday.  If I say it enough times, maybe it will feel real.  We went to Israel.  It was a completely surreal experience, one that I will treasure for the rest of my life.  We spent the bulk of the day in Jerusalem and I wish we had more time.  It was just incredible.  The highlight for me came at the very beginning of our day when we stopped at the Garden of Gethsemane.  Someday I hope to be able to put into words everything I felt amongst those ancient olive trees.  The nearness of the Savior was so strong and the atonement has taken on new meaning.  I treasure those moments in my memory.  Today the whole family is groggy after a very late return to Cyprus but really happy.  Our day in Israel was worth every moment of sleep deprivation.

likening the scriptures

In Sunday School today we were discussing Lehi's family crossing the wilderness from Jerusalem and eventually crossing the ocean to the Americas.  Mr. F and I landed on our own tangent of how they sailed from the Sinai Peninsula.  Did they go around Africa?  I flipped to the maps in the back of my copy of the Bible, locating the reference points I desired and more.

I found the above map and it kind of blew my mind.  Sinai?  Check.  Jerusalem?  Check.  Nile, twelve tribes?  Check and check.  My house?  Check.

Wait, what????  

Sure enough, wedged in the middle of the Great Upper Sea, nestled between the Hittites and Goshen, is Cyprus.  There are days I forget I live in a foreign country.  Today is most definitely not one of those days.  I remember my Sunday School and Seminary teachers trying to bring the scriptures to life for their students.  All it took for me today was one little map and it hit remarkably close to home.

slow learner

I'm a worry wort.  Okay, that's an understatement.  I'm the girl who sees change coming, bursts into tears and then climbs into bed for a couple of days thinking it will all go away.  My panic over Cyprus is beyond expression.  There are so very many things that are out of my control with this move. I  don't know when we'll be there, if visas will actually come through.  Moving our belongings is still a mystery.  Do we need to ship furniture or will we find a furnished place?  When can all of our family get together before we leave?  When are we leaving?! 

Yesterday was a good day.  Drink cocoa, go on walks, casually look online at housing and imagine what life on Cyprus would be like.

Today is the day I climbed back in bed and hid.  And cried. And ate my favorite cookies. I can't do this!  There isn't enough time!  There isn't enough information!  We're not even back in Florida yet!

 Serving as their wake-up call, I gave my parents a ring this afternoon.  My very groggy mum put my less groggy but barely lucid Nonny on the phone.  He and I had not spoken much since the decision was made to accept the offer.  Nonny asked some questions, a few of which I could answer, many I could not.  Even though he was barely awake, I could sense his excitement over this change and his repeated statement of "I'm so proud of you two" made me blush.

I shared my apprehensions, the lack of information I'm dealing with and the uneasy feeling it leaves in my stomach.  He yawned, and then said, "Act on faith, Boo Boo, not on fear."  I'm not acting on fear, dude, I'm just scared, okay? "Fear is the absence of faith.  Faith is the absence of fear." Derp.

Not long after, Mr. F called to say he had just gotten off the phone with people in Cyprus.  I was expecting this conversation to have answered all my questions.  It didn't and I fell apart.  Poor Mr. F... I started crying and asked him to call me later this afternoon.  I sent him emails over the next hour regaling him with questions I thought he should be able to answer.  He didn't answer any of them.  Instead he sent me this, a General Conference address by Quentin L. Cook when he was called to be an apostle.  As I began reading the thought came to me "I didn't ask you to be a member of the Twelve, just to move to Cyprus."  Derp.

In the opening paragraph, Elder Cook shares a memory from when he was called as a general authority and feeling inadequate.  Neal A. Maxwell told him then "that the most important qualification for all of us serving in the kingdom is to be comfortable in bearing witness of the divinity of the Savior."  I can do that, right?  That's not contingent on boxes being shipped or visas.  I can always do that...  A little later he quotes 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."  Act on faith, Boo Boo, not on fear.

My husband and father shared the same message with me in very different ways.   

Mr. F did answer one question for me.  I asked him how he was feeling about things after his conversation with Cyprus today.  "I feel calm and I am confident that things will work out how they need to."  Oh heavens, I love that man!

When are we getting to Cyprus? Dunno! 

What are we shipping over?  We'll figure that out when we need to.

Will our visas go through?   It's an international company, Engquist, they know what they are doing.

Do we have enough information?  We know what we're supposed to at this point.

Can I still testify of Christ? You betcha!

Can I move forward with faith?  Yes. 

rainy day thoughts

It's one of those perfect autumn afternoons. Quiet and just chilly enough for a scarf and a cup of tea.  We slept in today, savoring the remnants of a few, uninterrupted days together. We listened to music, read news articles, and then Mr. F fell asleep.  It's what you do on a Sunday afternoon when you are one of those people blessed with the innate ability to take naps.

I am not one of those people.

So I thought I'd take advantage of the pristine conditions induced by drizzly, rainy, tea drinking weather and draw while my tall guy slept. But here's the problem:  the creative juices just aren't flowin'.  I tried a few images and nothing's sticking. My hands want the pencils to do my mind's bidding,but nothing is coming out the way it should. A few of the images I want to work on are going to require many practice drawings, which is what I think the problem is.  Right now, I just don't have any patience.

None.

I want to instantly see the happy watercolors on the page and know that I was capable of making something look so happy.  I want to see that now.

It's not gonna happen.

Eventually I'll get my brain to grasp this concept and I'll pull out a few good preliminary sketches, or  I'll just add paint to a page to get a fix.  Either way, this creative sinkhole will fill and I'll be on my artistically driven way.

Eventually.



On a much different note, Mr. F and I went to the Frankfurt temple yesterday.  This was an incredible experience for both of us.

About three weeks ago we were sitting in church and all we could hear was "GO TO THE TEMPLE!"  Unlike when we were living in Columbus, this is not the easiest task in the world.  While Frankfurt is definitely accessible to us, it takes a lot of forethought and money, the latter of which has been exceptionally tight as we job hunt.  We've asked friends if they were going and looked at train tickets and plans continuously fell through.

This weekend, we knew we had to go.  We decided on Thursday evening to leave the following night. Rent a car, drive to Frankfurt, check into  the on-site guest house, wake up in the morning for the first session and play in the city before driving home and returning the car.  Thursday night was the last time this plan looked so seamless.

Friday was waylaid by meetings for Mr.F and a car rental company that never seems to have the car we reserved on hand for when we reserved it.  Mr. F came home nearly two hours later than we had anticipated, extinguishing our chances of getting to Frankfurt that night.  So, we  decided on leaving Saturday morning and making it for the English endowment session at 9.

We like sleep, we left at eight.

We drove contently, thinking we had plenty of time to spare until we realized that the GPS had taken us to the wrong location.  Our time buffer was gone and we panicked thinking we would be unable to participate in an English session. Find the temple we did, but there was no parking to be had.  Mr. F dropped me off so I could rent us some clothes while he drove around the block a few times.

Flustered and at our wits' ends, we entered the temple.  The stress of getting us there was gone as everyone welcomed us with their smiles.  Kindly workers who spoke English guided us through the sacred halls and helped us get to where we needed to be.  We had made it to the temple.

A short while ago I was blog hopping as I was having a rough night. I stumbled across a post from a friend of mine who was spending some time in Ghana this summer.  His parents just moved there as well  to serve  as missionaries for the Church.  He wrote a letter to them, telling his top ten reasons why they would love Ghana.  His number two reason was the Accra, Ghana temple. He wrote:

"Hands down the most beautiful building in Ghana--probably all of West Africa. The Accra temple is a pristine house of the Lord in a country where dust seems to be everywhere. The grounds of the temple are beautifully maintained with hundreds of species of flowers and trees (including these amazing fanning palms and bright birds of paradise). inside the temple is an exceptional peace. The workers are friendly, yet reverent, and the rooms are familiar, but with a distinct african flair (kente-cloth geometric patterns, symbolic colors and shapes, traditional signs, etc.)."

He then adds, "If you ever  feel  homesick, go here...because it is home." 

Living in Western Europe, I can't say that the Frankfurt Temple is the most beautiful building in Germany, but I can say that many of these words ran through my mind as I wandered its halls.  The tiny grounds were immaculate with all of my favorite German flowers growing like it was still June, not mid-September.  The decorations inside were very simplistic, but very beautiful.  Clean lines, no fuss, but fine quality abounded.  And everywhere friendly, reverent, happy people.

I sat in one of the rooms and heard in English words I had not heard for several months but that are very dear to my heart.  Tears bubbled in my eyes and I knew exactly where I was.  I was home.  Despite an ocean, several countries, and many languages in between, I was home.

Mr. F expressed a similar experience to me when we were heading home.  Our moods and spirits were so much altered after our visit.  Where there had been tension, there was nothing but giggles and smiles.  Both of us are looking forward to attending the temple with more frequency upon our return to the States in less than two weeks.  Our trip to Frankfurt was a stark reminder that we need to go "home" more often.

family tree

 Mr. F and I are about to ride off into the cloudy German sunset for a night in Frankfurt.  We've had a lot on our minds so we figured it was time to visit this place.  I'm incredibly grateful that this opportunity is even available to us!  Before we depart, I wanted to share these wonderful images I just stumbled across from EvaJuliet.  I sense some serious family history and projects in my future!

Happy Weekend!

where at least i know i'm free

"LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!" we hollered out as we reached the chorus of the tune John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt. It was about a fifteen minute walk from the bus stop to the cemetery and we were filling the moments with silliness. With every step along what appeared to be a not oft used footpath, the air grew more muggy. We had arrived in Luxembourg that morning and by eleven were walking from the bus on the southeast side of the city.
We came to the top of the hill and saw the golden eagles before anything else, forming the sides of a beautiful blue iron gate. They were high in the air, forcing the head to tilt upwards toward the heavens. We crossed through the entrance, flanked by the gilded sentinels. Without realizing, our giggles came to an abrupt halt and were replaced with a hallowed reverence. We had made our way to the U.S. Military Cemetery.

The Czech took his time at the visitor's center by the gate, trying to read as much as he could. I pressed on, knowing tears would fast be approaching and needing a few moments to let them fall. Directly before me stood what I thought to be a monument of grand size, with words on the side offering gratitude for the men and woman buried there, the brave souls who perished after the Allied invasion of Europe in 1944. I have always been interested in World War II, but since being with the Czech I have learned a vast deal more than ever before. I sat on a bench and thought about these men before going to walk amongst them. Many of them had died at Bastogne, months of mortar fire in the woods of eastern Belgium during the winter of 1944-1945. They could not warm themselves with campfires, supplies were limited, and the fighting endless. It was cold and they were freezing. But they stayed in their foxholes and saw it all through.

The Czech met up with me and we kept walking, past the monument that was actually a chapel and into the fields of crosses. We stepped onto the perfectly manicured grass and my tears flowed freely. We read the names somberly, curious about who these boys were and where they were form. California, New Jersey, Wisconsin. Two boys from Ohio and Michigan were buried next to each other. On and on it went. The Czech pensively examined his surroundings, soaking everything in, gratitude emanating from his stance.
The leaflet told us that twenty-two sets of brothers were buried side by side through the cemetery as well as several sets of friends. The crosses were so simple, as were the stars of David. I've walked through many cemeteries and have seen the most beautiful tombstones, eloquently carved with figures and images to depict the soul whose body lay below. These boys deserved such monuments, I thought. Each of them. But there they were in Luxembourg, on the other side of the world. Some of them were not even named.
I have been to several memorials honoring American soldiers and have even been to Arlington National Cemetery, but have never been so humbled. Nor so proud to be an American. There were a handful of other visitors meandering on their own course throughout the grounds. One set was a middle-aged daughter touring with her veteran father. He seemed so proud to be back around his comrades and she delighted beyond measure with all that her father represented.
My tears ebbed with the cessation of the rain, leaving an indelible mark of humility and the utmost thanks. I thought a great deal about my loved ones who have very recently passed away. Mental wishes for my two grandmothers to hug these boys were sent to the heavens. My time to hug them will come, too, but I wanted them hugged then and there.
We packed away the umbrella and made our way to the veranda surrounding the chapel. On our way we saluted the bloody bastards of Bastogne in the only way we knew how; we had a drink of Coke in their honor. As we left, we noticed the soft chime of church bells coming from the tiny on-site chapel. It took us a few verses before we realized what we were listening to. It was The Star Spangled Banner.
The walk back to the bus and the trip into the city center went far more quickly than our initial journey. Our hearts were full, but our spirits light. We walked and kept singing, enjoying the sunlight and warmth of a summer day in Europe, such a day the men buried two miles away would never know.

for ingrid

and myself.

I have slew of art projects waiting for me, but I feel like I can't get to them until I share some more about my wedding.

we were married in Manti, Utah on one day and partied like it was 1999 the next day. I really wanted to have our wedding day be about the temple and our sealing. I wanted to focus on family and get lost in the tiny moments before letting myself totally let go and mingle and dance.

though it was the end of March, it snowed on our wedding day. not just snowed. blizzarded. white out. could barely drive more than twenty-five miles-an-hour down the backroad Utah highways. it was the first time that day I really freaked out. I thought I was going to be late! it was one of the very rare occasions that Mr. F showed up somewhere before I did.

our reception and ring ceremony were held at the sundance resort. my wonderful family did all of the decorating. the vases (an assortment of canning jars) and vintage books were all contributed by my sweet grandmother, who also made the skirt of my wedding gown. it was such fun to watch family members read through the books and find scribbles written by aunts and uncles who once owned the volumes.

I really loved our two-day extravaganza because it allowed us the leisure to really enjoy our guests, and ourselves! Mr. F and I wandered through the tables greeting everyone as dinner dwindled down. I think we talked to nearly everyone! (to those we didn't, my sincerest apologies.)

because we were married in the temple, not all of our family members could join us for the sealing ceremony. one of my absolute favorite memories is making my way out of the dressing room and hearing all of my family in the waiting room. because of the snow, the temple workers invited everyone inside to wait in the dry warmth. I had to wait behind a wall until everyone went outside so we could take pictures. (picture taking is not allowed within the temple so as to preserve the sacred nature of the building.)

this is my mor mor and me moments after Mr. F and I made our big reveal. it meant the world to me to have her and all of my family drive to the middle of nowhere just to take pictures with us in the middle of a snowstorm.

because of the ring ceremony, we had a formal sit down dinner so as to have everyone in place. our escort cards were printed on library cards. there was a definite book theme to our celebrations. in fact, our save the date cards were also printed on library cards. the card was inside the sleeve with the words "check it out!" peeking at the viewer where the book title would customarily be found. for the escort cards, the guests' names were at the top and the table letter (not number) was one the body of the card when it was pulled out of the sleeve.

okay, this cake, was absolute embodiment of the cake I had been dreaming of. I am not a big sweet person, so the wedding cake was never really high on my priority list. (I am now living with Mr. Fs family and we eat cake and cupcakes on a nearly daily basis...I'm adjusting...) well, my wonderfully talented aunt inherited all (and I do mean ALL) of the domestic arts for our family. while the rest of us women can iron and clean from here till doomsday, none of us can cook, and absolutely can compete with auntie L's baking genius.

she flew in from Chicago toting half a dozen different kinds of cookies for our family dinner after the sealing. she then baked up a storm and produced this beautiful, beautiful cake! not only that, she made two of them! they looked stunning on the rustic wooden table in the mountain lodge.

confession: I never actually tasted this cake. we cut the cake, but were unable to get the piece out...so we fed each other berries.

my brother, the Stud. his hips don't lie. pretty sure the DJ wants to hire him to get the party going. Studly McStudlypants was on the dance floor the entire night.

my Liver went around the temple, the town, and the entire valley taking pictures of everything long after the crowds had departed. these flowers were lovingly supporting the base of the temple, even though snow threatened their very existence.

I got a sister! she's the best. and now we're even roommates for a short while. Sista Bear and Mr. F are close like the Stud and me. they were actually the extent of our bridal party.

during the ring ceremony, Stud and Sista walked up the rings so we could exchange them. now it just feels like the four of us are siblings. when one is missing from an outing, the cosmos seem horribly out of whack.

remember how I said table letters? well, here ya go! I found these papier mache letters for not a whole lotta money at jo-ann fabric and absolutely loved the overall aesthetic they provided. we used them again three weeks later for our shindig in Columbus.

chicken legs meets "what do I do with this sheet again?" a hilarious candid from our photos at Sundance. it was absolutely freezing when we got out of the temple so we didn't spend a tremendous amount of time taking photos. the next day my Liver showed up early and did the entire photo shoot all over again. he was absolutely amazing and turned out some incredible images.

why did we get married in Manti? because. because I like to do things differently. but mainly because that's where my grandparents were sealed. I learned from my Nana that our family helped build this temple. when we walked inside, we knew we had made the right choice. we were one of two sealings that day and the other couple were already leaving. the entire decor was unlike any other temple I have ever visited. a victorian parlor, tastefully adorned with embroideries, florals, and the most exquisite carpets. Mr. F and I were able to sit together in the Celestial room for a short period of time before the ceremony. we were coddled by the elderly temple workers and taught of the historical legacy of the structure as well as the spiritual.

lastly, these are my siblings. I mean cousins. when I started university in Provo, Clutsy on the left was ten years-old. she graduates from high school next week! they were my home away from home, and still are. my family and I stayed with them the week of the wedding and it just seemed fitting. it was like I was being sent off from my own childhood home.

and now.... go check out my Liver's website. he is one crazy talented photographer.

I'm going for a walk on the beach with my husband now.

consider the blessed and happy state

A few nights ago, the Czech received a call that a friend's grandmother had passed away and that this friend was in need of a priesthood blessing. We stopped Slumdog Millionaire and hopped in the car to meet up with the Czech's old roommate on campus. The two men were going to lay their hands on our friend's head and offer her a blessing of comfort. I was there for hugs and moral support.

In the stillness of the eleven o'clock hour, the three of us meandered over to the university hospital and were instantly struck with a predicament; we had no idea where to go. Yes, we had the name of the hall our friend was in, but that didn't help us with knowing what entrance to use or navigating.

Thus ensued a night full of laughter rather than solemn sentiment. "Where's the sign for 'Dead People'?" we asked, full of mirth, which inevitably resulted in quoting Monty Python. "Bring out yer dead!" the three of us chortled as we sauntered into the main entrance of the hospital.

We mellowed out enough to find our dear friend and offer her some comfort, or at least I hope we did. The old roommate spoke the words of the blessing, which were very tender and appropriate for the given situation. They spoke of the Father's Plan, in which family's can and will be together beyond this mortal experience. Our friend was reminded of the experiences she had with her grandmother and the lifetime worth of lessons she had garnered from her example. I offered hugs and moral support. It's what I do.

We parted ways with our friend and her father around midnight and within seconds of the separation, the three of us who had originally come to offer comfort were joking and laughing heartily once more. Our actions seemed utterly disrespectful, but our mirth just could not be contained.

The next day I came across the following scripture from the book of Mosiah in the Book of Mormon. It reads,

"And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it."

A state of never-ending happiness? That sounded very akin to my mood of the night previous, full of merry making. But it was more than that...

The three of us hooligans found joy in helping someone else, bringing companionship to our friend and fellow. The Lord has asked us to look after one another, to comfort the weary and mourn with those that mourn. Inside the hospital, we held a deep reverence for the priesthood power being used. A solemn peace filled the little room we occupied as five of us listened to the words being spoken. The old roommate asked sincere questions about the grandmother's health and the procedures that had been utilized.

Yet we still laughed as we entered and left. By doing good, happicomfortness filled our hearts and we were able to enjoy the peace and effulgence of a few minutes of pure joy. Laughing at our own silliness, we went home happy.