Today was a big day for us!! We woke up at 6:00, threw the kids in the car and took off! We dropped them at a friends house, went by car to here:
And spent a loooong tiiiime waiting around:
To get on a bus to go here:
In order to spend more time waiting around....
With all these people:
J: "Hehe... this is huge... if they gave each of us a spear, we could take over a small country."
And then We RAN
And when we were done (Twenty-seven minutes and thirty-five seconds later)...
We went to pick up the kids(who had been warned what we would look like when we got back and so were not actually totally scarred by the sight of their parents)
And then, for the first time that day (at about 11:00), WE ATE!!
And next year, we're taking these adorable kiddoes with us!!!
Things I learned while writing this post: 1)When J has the camera, suddenly there I am in all the pics! 2) J's camera is way better than mine 3) If you forget to take a pic of something, you can probably fine it on the internet.
I mentioned in the comments of a previous post About Us a conversation I had with a friend that I still remember vividly. She asked me to remind her of it...
J. was still a year or two away for me, but K. had recently begun courting her future husband and she and I were discussing courtship, marriage and other such things that occupy the minds of teen-age girls. There was a several year (can't remember exactly?) age difference between K and her young man and we were talking about how people might view that and whether or not that was socially acceptable in our time. I mentioned to her my grandparents marriage of (at the time) nearly fifty years and the 18 years age gap between them. I expressed my intention of marrying a man at least three years older than myself, as I thought that would ensure a stable and mature relationship. K was skeptical, however...
But how are you so sure you'll marry someone older?
I just know it's the best thing for me.
But what if you meet a godly young man who's just perfect for you but a few years younger than you or something like that?
Oh, that won't happen.
But what if it does and what if you fall in love??
Well.... I just won't fall in love with someone younger than me. I just won't. That's all there is to it.
Haha, the joke's on me! There was more to the conversation, but the part that looms largest in my mind is that-- for obvious reasons.
P.S. For those of you who don't know us well, J isn't30 yet ;)
But unfortunately for me, J could not read my mind. All this time things weren't traveling at quite the same light speed for him that they were for me. He was still just adjusting to the dawning realization that there might be something in this talkative, weird-ish, opinionated young woman that he just might not be able to do without. And so, you know what he, in all ignorance of what it might mean to me, went and did?
So, as we said our goodbyes in the parking lot of the lodge. Souvenirs had been purchased, final pictures had been taken, all the gear was packed. Just before we hopped into the van, J handed me a brown paper bag rolled up in a bundle.
"Here, I bought you this"
"What is it?"
"Open it on the way home."
I scuttled to the back of the van and secured a seat away from the prying and curious eyes of my siblings. After it got dark enough on our evening drive, I slowly unrolled the paper bag and pulled out a beautiful silver and malachite ring.
A WHAAAAAT???? Hoooold the phone....
A ring.
*pop*
I blew a gasket.
A here-I-bought-this-for-you-in-a-paper-bag RING.
Of course, in his mind, it was simply a sentimental memento of a memorable weekend spent in the delightful company of one another, but for me!! It was a Ring. I mean, I'm only a woman. Rings mean one thing and one thing only. Am I right? Back me up here, sistahs. And here is a will-you-marry-me without the GUY and wrapped up in a paper bag and opened in the back seat of a van with all my siblings oogling at me over the backseat.
I think I may have cried for a week. Maybe two. I cried because I was confused and in love and only seventeen. I cried because I had hoped for a kiss and a promise with my ring and somehow I felt a little cheated. And then I cried because I heard that J was going to the prom that weekend. With someone else.
Head's up to you men (both of you) reading. Neverevereverever give a woman a ring and then take someone else to the prom. It sends mixed messages.
Of course, to do him justice, making me cry in those days was fairly easy. So don't think too badly of J. I mean, really. What's a man to do? He saw me admiring the rings in the gift shop, so he bought me one. Logical and thoughtful, right? Of course, right.
But in the meantime, here I was with this ring and no proposal, no prom, nothing. What's a girl to do? If only I was brave enough to read you the journal entries of the next several looong excruciating weeks!
P.S. J says it never occurred to him that going to the prom with another girl would upset me, since both of us knew my dad would NEVER have let me go with him. And he says "our relationship wasn't really at the point where we were technically "exclusive".
I have to say that there were several sets of circumstances that served to accelerate the development of our relationship into something more than friendship. For starters, I don't know that it's possible to play a French Maid to someone's Rapscallion Count and not fall in love.
I was not responsible for that bit of type-casting there. Ah no. It was my mother. I am actually going to "out" my mother here and tell y'all her deep dark secret. That is, she'd already decided she wanted J for a son-in-law and she was obviously casting this show with an eye to the future.
And while I'm at it, let me go ahead and implicate my in-laws, too. Sandy? Henry? Y'all know you helped out. Don't try to deny it. Poor us. We were the victims of a major parental conspiracy, is what. Albeit, quite willing victims.
As an aside, do you notice that cute couple in the background in the picture above? Yeeeeah. That is who you think it is. That young fox-- the dangerous one. You'll notice Sue and Ben in the background a lot in all these pictures of J and me. While all the parental contingency was getting all involved and picketty about the two of us, they were in the background, flying low, under the radar.... I have the pictorial proof. Stinkers.
So, it's not possible to play a French Maid to a Rapscallion Count and not fall in love. Nor is it possible to go on vacation with said Count's entire family and not at least entertain thoughts of this type of thing;
Especially since we were going up into the mountains. And we stayed in the honeymoon suite!
Can you really blame a girl for dreaming? Really...
So I did. I dreamed. I imagined my first kiss on the summit of Sharp Top. I imagined long talks as we strolled through the verdant forest. I imagined all manner of things. Matter of fact, in re-reading through my diary of the time just now in preparation for this post, I quite embarrassed myself a with the blatant romanticism of those imaginings. When I die, someone better come get those diaries and burn them before my kids read them...
I did not, however, imagine carrying these two little Turkeys **:
Up this:
Yes, carrying. We carried them up Sharp Top. Almost the entire way. Matter of fact, those two Turkeys (for lack a better, but still polite term) dogged our trail pretty much the whole three days. I don't know whose plan that was, but I have my suspicions.... Needless to say, there wasn't any of this:
...or first kisses, or private talks. There was plenty of walking, though. And a little platonic cuddling-- although Susi shoved him out of the blanket and took his place right before Henry took this shot:
My siblings. Always looking out for my romance.
There were also some sweet moments like this:
J took that picture. He asked me to climb out onto the rock so he could take my picture. *swoon*
All in all, it was a beautiful time. I fell solidly in love. I admitted it to myself. I loved this young, absent-minded dreamer with the beautiful hair and the elegant fingers. I loved his way of thinking about things, I loved the plans he had. And once? I almost kissed that curl in the back of his neck. Right in front of God and everybody. But unfortunately for me, J could not read my mind. All this time things weren't traveling at quite the same light speed for him that they were for me. He was still just adjusting to the dawning realization that there might be something in this talkative, weird-ish, opinionated young woman that he just might not be able to do without. And so, you know what he, in all ignorance of what it might mean to me, went and did?
**for those of you who do not recognize those two little turkeys, they are my sister, and J's brother-- about four or five years old at the time.
ETA: I think I fixed the commenting problem...if not, would someone email me and let me know? Thanks Hos, for alerting me :)
I love my husband-- I've loved him for nearly fifteen years and I love talking about him and us and our story. You asked for it-- I shall deliver!
Jeremiah and I first met when his family (homeschooling at the time) attended a performance of our chorale, which must have been Christmas, 1995-- the year I was sixteen.We were doing a show called "All Is Well". I was, at the time, sporting this look:
That's me, second from the left, with the weird smirk)
Needless to say, I didn't exactly knock his socks off initially. Matter of fact, he may not even remember this encounter. He swears he does, but I have my doubts...
The fall of 1995, J's family (four brothers) joined our home school Music Club-- The Storysingers. Ohhh my. I wonder if Mrs M. knew what she was doing. She just walked right into a chicken house full of hormonal teenage hens and set down not one, not two, but THREE fine young foxes :D Granted, Ben was pretty young at the time, but you all know how that turned out. Young foxes are the most dangerous kind, apparently.
Basically every girl in our group had a crush on those boys at one point or another that first year. (Do NOT try to deny it, girls, you know the truth. I was there, and I was watching...) I took my turn like the rest, but it was short-lived. I was turning 17, after all. It was time to get serious about marriage and such. I wasn't getting any younger. And I was determined to find an Older Man.
But there was something about that young man. He was quiet. Shy-ish. Intellectual. Boyishly handsome. And oh! be still my heart! His hair curled all up around his ears and there was this one perfect curl right in the middle of the back of his neck that just made me swoon. And his hands... I have a thing about hands, have I mentioned that? He has long thin fingers and squared off, manly nails. *swoon again*
Ahem.
Anyway. He also read Tolkein and Lewis, loved fantasy novels, was a math whiz and an excellent writer as well. It proved to be an irresistible package. Friendship and long conversations about books and our Faith gradually turned into something special-- something more than friendship. Something new... something exciting.
Or at least, for me it did. Unfortunately J is one of those endearing people who suddenly looks up and realizes they are in the middle of a forest and have no idea how they came to be there. All the way up through the winter of '97-'98-- his senior year at a private high-school, J did not look up. He did not notice he was standing in the middle of the forest, nor did he notice that there was a lovesick...let's go with hen, since I'm using up my quota of metaphors pretty quick here... trailing after him through that forest. Things did not look good for me. Not good at all, folks.
