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Marriage. I began dreaming of marriage at the age of five. Though, my ideal husband looked an awful lot like the loving man who raised me and the brothers who loved me. In fact, this was so strongly believed this (and I was unmistakably impressionable) that the little five year-old 'me' in her wedding veil (a can-can) made a vow to her proud father (with his help). The vow was to never marry and therefore never leave him. (My apologies, Dad.)
In the days of dress-up, I imagined myself as the captivating princess awaiting her prince charming. (My mother helped me transform my ‘princessly’ attire from a distressed blankie and fractured paper crown to a custom made magical dress…Miss Piggy-pink, of course).
Upon his first look at the lovely maiden, his heart pounds viciously inside him. He cannot breathe. His every muscle twitches in readiness to protect the fair creature from the evil things that surround her. He ever continues to pursue her madly. Her very name means 'perfection'.
The maiden, myself, was most certainly the dainty, quiet, sweet (in every way), and most forgiving, maiden. Later was I to find this was not so (with all loving thanks to my patient husband). The malfunctions were quite so obvious until marriage happened upon the prince and princess.
Lately I have been struck ever so softly, though quite blatantly, in the face with the realities of my inward frustrations. I have found that I am completely incapable of fulfilling all of my husbands needs, and he mine. As God knows me completely (Psalm 139) and understands my every thought and emotion (I have plenty of those), then I have no need to expect Matt to do the same.
1 Chronicles 28:9-10, "And you, my son Solomon, acknowledge the God of your father, and serve him with wholehearted devotion and with a willing mind, for the LORD searches every heart and understands every motive behind the thoughts. If you seek him, he will be found by you; but if you forsake him, he will reject you forever. Consider now, for the LORD has chosen you to build a temple as a sanctuary. Be strong and do the work."
My understanding is that my serving God at this point in my life is to serve Matt with wholehearted devotion to Christ. I am to seek my King, as He is the one who perfects my ever-arising imperfections. Marriage. *sigh*. What a wonderful gift!
Bright warmth flows in with the fresh, brisk, autumn breeze. Settled in the sunlight sits my husband, book in hand and his feet already having retreated to his favorite leather slippers. He eventually abandoned the cup of coffee he daily delights in. Strong, Vietnamese cinnamon, black java.
In an effort to take advantage of our day off, I sit in the office looking out into our cozy, downtown apartment. Looking back into old entries never published, I found one written out of frustration and annoyance. Starting off our first few months of marriage we lived out of basements and coffee shops. My thoughts throughout the time? Read on.
"Here I am on the other side of the counter. Once a devoted barista, I have become a coffee sitter, a nomad among the many in the world of transitional stages. Do I despise my situation because I am most likely the object of annoyance to the local coffee shop owners? (many thanks to those who welcome those who create their office, living room, and rest room out of their business) I myself never looked on the sitter with disdain (as long as he made an effort to spend his coinage and to share his space with fellow paying customers). Yet, what are they thinking when every couple of hours they glance across the room to see the same table occupied by the same customer? Oh to have my own place of peace that invites me warmly home to just 'be'."
A smile creeps onto my face as I recall the stress we suffered together through many unnatural and less-than-ideal situations that Matt and I found ourselves in. Praise the Creator for His
provision of a home of rest.
.................................... [photos]
Matt in our living room, feet nestled on the coffee table and mind engaged in his book all the while the sunlight and brisk fall breeze pour through the windows
. 
The view from my seat in our office all the way to the bedroom.
Charming.
....................................................................................[end photos]
P.S. To our mothers and fathers who took us in, thank you so much for making the transitions easier. We love and appreciate all that you put up with!
Up until this last week, I have dreaded learning the stick shift that my husband and I own. I've been pretty content letting him drive us around. That is until I found myself stuck at coffee shops for hours when I could have been running errands.
So, here is where my story begins. Matt, the handsome prince, had spent at least two sessions patiently teaching his little whiny wife. I'd done well, and then scared myself thus professing "I'm NOT driving."
Eventually the 'stuck at home' syndrome kicked in. I found myself eager...even excited to get into our little neon. My dear mother, when staying at her home, bravely got into this little bright blue car we call Buster with her daughter at the wheel. With her in command, I made stops and I started again and again...and again. She had me drive into a steep incline and back out onto the highway. By the end of our half hour session, I was feeling pretty confident. Tomorrow, I was going to drive around the neighborhood looking for garage sales. By myself.
It was a Friday. The garage door opened with its rythmic groan. One could see the smooth movement of little Buster coming out of the garage with the sun on his hood. Yup. I was feeling proud. Look at me, I thought, pretty good, eh? I pulled quickly out into the street and switched into first. I drove all around. I made stops and started up with ease. I turned, I went up little hills. I felt it. Oh, yes I did.
Soon I had my husband in the car with me. This is when I typically tend to slip up. I pulled out of the garage and he hopped in. I backed into the street and started out. "That was nearly perfect!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. I smiled humbly. We drove around and around, all the time I proved myself an excellent stick shifter.
We pulled out onto the highway to make it over to another part of town. By this time I had been driving for nearly half an hour. I slipped up. Oops! I'm okay. We're doing good. We stop at a light. Green...that means go. Nice, smooth. Good transition. Soon a bright sign advertising a garage sale appears on the left. Do I turn here? Go straight?! I decided to turn. Wait. A car. Yes, must wait. I watch a car slowly pass. I see another, but in my confidence (sorta), I pull out. 'gluh chucka gluh-KA PUH' We weren't moving. My heart poked me. I turned the key and tried again. Buster died. I felt panic overtaking me. "Matt, it died!" He sat without expression. I tried it again. And again. The car was coming. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my charming prince with his hand over his grimaced face. We're gonna die and he gives me that. I let out a "DON'T DO THAT! Matt, I'm about to cry and I don't need that!" (>>yes, ask my brothers, I can be a drama queen). Eventually I put-putted the car to the other side of the street and started to glide along the street. With a snarl and a teary face I choked out " Will YOU drive?"
I got out of the car and could feel multiple curious eyeballs on me. I marched over to the other side of the car. Matt felt terrible for me and attempted to comfort me with a hug. His stubborn little wifey just wanted in the car. I knew what this looked like. I was a girl who couldn't control her car and her emotions, and here was the rescuer hugging and reassuring her. I wasn't going to let everyone see this streaky face and broken pride. "Can I just get in?". He opened the door for me allowing me to skulk in and pout.
Here we are again. It's Sunday. And I don't want to drive. Yet, I need to be able to drive myself around when we move to New York. I'm determined that by Tuesday I will get back on the wheel.
I'm scared.
{a tribute to those involved in my experience of discipline}
>Thank you, M. for your patience. And for driving.
>Erika, my sister not only in marriage, but in the learning of the stick shift, you are an encourager.
>Praise to my Creator for protection...and for answering my prayer for humility. I might not pray that for awhile.
{introduction}
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I find myself at my most reflective and 'thought-provoked' state when hanging out my window is a day blanketed with clouds that threaten, and eventually begin, to spurt raindrops. Soon I find myself wanting to eat chocolate, drink gallons of coffee, read books, and stare at flickering candles . This is also when my pen (or keyboard) seem to be the most productive and useful. Giddiness overtakes me when sitting next to tall windows that let in a cool breeze. Then the relaxing drizzle can begin to work its magic and flow through my thoughts. This is when ideation begins.
Why such a fascination with drippy days? Some of my favorite photographs were shot on overcast days. Textures become more defined. Tones are even. And it couldn't be more delightful to shoot in. Most ideas for the next photo project are concieved in the hazy atmosphere.
I find these days perfectly charming, enchanting, and invigorating.
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My hope for this blog is merely to be a creative outlet to practice what I love to do and to take advantage of those beclouded days that come my way. Thank you to my husband who encouraged me to do so.
Warmly,
L.K.Kinnick
{photo of my husband, Matt}
