The Good Friday Five

Yet another Friday Five post on Saturday. That's how it goes sometimes, apparently.

It feels like it's been a long week, which is appropriate for Holy Week, I suppose. Here are some of the moments, people, and random joys of life that have been saving me this week.

1. My grandmother's birthday party. The majority of my immediate extended family got together for BBQ on Tuesday to celebrate our matriarch. We hadn't been all together since Thanksgiving, so it was great to spend time together. As I've grown up, I've realized how different we all are, and yet we are dedicated to each other. That means something.

2. Rachel Held Evans' piece about Holy Week for doubters. I've always loved Rachel's writing, her whole demeanor online and in person, and how she isn't afraid to write and speak about things that aren't always easy to bring up. This post is one of those. "What if we made this up because we're afraid of death?" I so appreciate her acknowledgment that sometimes just showing up is the best and bravest thing we can do, in our faith and otherwise.

3. Flashback to the '80s and '90s. This week I've watched Top Gun and The Sandlot for the first time, and started The West Wing. It's been fun to finally get so many cultural references that I missed at the time (no, I have no excuse for not seeing them before this, yes, you have permission to shake your head and roll your eyes, maybe even screech "WHAT?!")

4. Pope Francis washed the feet of Muslim migrants. I can't really find much to say about this except to ask you to please read the article. I give heaps of thanks for this pope and his meaningful contributions to the transformation of the world. As I wrote on Facebook: So true, so moving, so needed. Especially this week. We all belong to the same God.

5. Our Good Friday service last night. I always find it interesting that we celebrate the joy of Christmas in the stark darkness of winter, and the sorrow of Lent and Good Friday just as spring and sun are beginning to stick around. It's a contrast that works; at Christmas, I feel like the warmth stems from the internal, the people gathered, the candles lit, life pulsing despite the frosty, sleeping earth. And now, I love the feel of the darkened sanctuary, while light streams in and birds sing outside the windows. Even as the interior dims and the Christ candle is carried out of the church, our congregation strewn throughout the pews is buoyed by the renewal of life beyond, indeed cannot escape it. 

And you, friends - what's been saving your life this week, holy or otherwise?

Wedded List

Jeff Roffman Photography

Wedded list, wedded bliss - get it? Okay, bad puns aside, I don't know if it's because my parents' wedding anniversary is tomorrow (happy 31st, Mom and Dad!), or because we have two brothers getting married in the next three months (whee!), or because wedding/engagement season is approaching, but I've been thinking back to my own wedding planning this time two years ago. There were many different elements to it, but all in all, it really wasn't a stressful experience. Our pastor friend and marriage counselor told us, "If you have a choice between complicated and simple, choose simple every time." Even with good intentions not everything could be simple (ordering alcohol in bulk for 300? Ugh, math), but that was a mantra that I tried to return to as often as possible, and it paid off. So with simplicity in mind, here are my top ten wedding planning tips.*

*Every wedding has different dynamics, and a plethora of them. These are things that worked for us. They don't work for everyone and I'm not trying to say they do. Also, I'm writing as someone who was a bride, but this applies to grooms too. Also, I'll probably think of ten more by tomorrow, so this list is fairly fluid. Okay, caveat over.

10. If possible, get engaged in a spot with no cell service and don't tell anyone for at least 24 hours. Let it soak in. Enjoy it. Before other humans start asking you if you've picked a date yet.

9. Address the invitations yourself. Savor the excitement of writing the names of people you love. Do it on Friday nights while watching TV. (And hold on to The Knot's Guest List Manager as your Christmas card list for all time.)

8. Got a friend who's a great photographer? Ask her/him to take your engagement photos.

7. If it doesn't totally screw with your color scheme, tell your bridesmaids to buy a dress in X color and length that suits them. Everyone ends up looking good, feeling comfortable, and wedding party members who are already traveling don't have to spend more money than they have.

6. Seating charts: people will survive - perhaps even thrive?! - without them. 

5. Publix wedding cakes are just as delicious as high-end bakery cakes. Promise.

4. Spend your wedding morning with your favorite girlfriends - all five or 30 of them. Drive yourself places on your wedding day. Do some normal stuff.

3. EAT BEFORE YOU GO INTO THE RECEPTION. By yourselves. For at least half an hour. Ask the server for seconds. Do it.

2. Before you leave, make a point to thank the people who made it happen - not just your parents and wedding party and officiant, but the people who might not get thanked otherwise, like the wait staff, the events coordinator, the caterer. Sure, they get paid, but I will never forget the smiles as I shook their hands and said "thank you" to their faces. It was clear that the bride taking time to do this meant something.

1. If you like the people at your wedding - and I hope you do - find a way to spend time with them after the wedding, especially if they're in from out of town. Hang out with them at the hotel after the reception. Get them together for brunch the next morning. You've got your honeymoon and the rest of your lives for one-on-one time. Savor the folks who made you each who you are, and the new family that you're all building together.

Cheers to the future!

Spring: New Birth and Nana

I first wrote this for my grandmother's birthday three years ago, and thought it warranted a share today. Happy birthday, Nana!

My father's mother was born at the start of spring. Since I was a child, I have carried March 21 around specially in my heart, knowledge that is too known to be knowledge, simply truth that slides in and stays: spring equals Nana, and Nana equals spring.

It's almost a chicken or egg question, really - which came first, spring or Nana? I cannot glimpse one without the other. I cannot smell fresh dirt without thoughts of helping her plant impatiens. I cannot hear bird songs without thinking of her bird feeder, ever popular with birds and those unwelcome squirrels, and her stack of Audubon books that she seems to memorize so she can greet every chirping visitor by name. I cannot feel brassy warm wind without thinking of her honey lilt singing:

Like a leaf or feather
in the windy, windy weather,
swirl around and twirl around,
and all fall down together!
 
I like to imagine the signs of new life that crept forth with her birth on 1928's first spring day in Athens, Alabama. I imagine her first wail piercing the air in equal time with the blue jay's song, the hawk's dive, the irrepressible wing beats of the hummingbird. Drawing breath with the birds and buds, for a moment she held the full and unknown world within herself: all change and challenge, slats of shattering lightning and gentle stirs of blossoming breezes. I imagine her Irish pastor father bending down to bless her, his only daughter. I imagine her mother, born in China to missionaries, lifting her up with lullabies, her last child. I imagine her four brothers, who ranged in age from nine to fifteen, passing her back and forth between themselves, cradling their baby sister with curiosity and amusement.

Even on stark winter days, even in the sweltering summer, she brings me springtime moments.

She shares our family history, storytelling with breadth and depth, our ancestors as familiar to her as neighbors. She brings her friendly smile to strangers, and still gathers with her close-knit college friends, a breath of fresh air to both. She took me on my first transatlantic adventure, to County Wicklow, Ireland, and we stood on rocks overlooking the Irish Sea at dusk and one minute the sun shone and the next it washed itself in shadows, and it was so important to stand next to my grandmother in those moments.

She sings the hymns we've both known since childhood (since she helped teach them to me), her southland soprano strong and sweet. She embraces and laughs with bursting beauty, sweeping us up into safety and joy. I would fall asleep listening to her blessings and prayers, her stories and songs.

I sent her not one, but two birthday cards last week. The outdoor, beach-y art on each pulled me into her heart, her love of water and sky. "What could be better than lying in a hammock or being out on the bay in a sailboat?" she wrote back, then added: "Having you with me would be."

And I cannot wait because soon I will be with her, this weekend for Easter, and even if it's the second coming of winter it won't matter, because spring equals Nana, and Nana equals spring.