Author: mrslasuik

DISCLAIMER: There are details here that would be considered “too much information” by some. You’ve been fairly warned.

On September 15, 2024, I was about 10 days away from my originally calculated due date. (I say “originally calculated” because my 20-week anatomy ultrasound suggested that I was due on October 2 instead of September 26. Let the records show that my midwife stuck to the September due date all along.) My husband went to work in the morning to wrap up the church fall kick-off weekend services. This was one of the boxes that needed to check out in my mind before our baby came. That morning I received a long awaited text from my dear friend, who was five days overdue with her third baby. At 1:00 am that morning, she had given birth. Another box that needed to be checked.
The morning was uneventful. I was super uncomfortable at this point in my pregnancy, daily asking the Lord for patience as my hormones and emotions were unpredictable at best. Patience for this baby to come, to parent my toddler well, to be kind and respectful toward my husband etc.
After lunch I did the usual naptime routine with my son. Around 1:30 I went to lie down myself, hoping to nap (sleep had been dodgy for several weeks already). I started having mild contractions, but decided to stay in bed and rest. I was still at least a week and a half out from my due date, and had experienced false labour with my first baby. I assumed this was just that, so I lay and rested as best I could, though I wasn’t able to sleep. Around 3:00 pm I got up to go for a shower before my toddler would wake up from his nap. It was still consistently warm outside, and a summer pregnancy makes for a sweaty mama. But the contractions were growing in intensity, so I took a HOT shower and breathed through the more intense contractions. My husband was home by this time. When I got out of the shower, I put on comfy clothes and braided my hair. I went to the kitchen for a snack, thinking to myself: if this is the real deal (yeah, right), then I should probably have a snack so that I have some energy to get through this. So I ate a small snack and informed my husband of what was going on. I didn’t believe it was real labour at that point yet. (From this point onward in the story, I don’t know exactly what times things were happening). Scott got our son up from his nap, and helped me get comfortable in the living room with my birth ball, a wooden comb, and a TENS machine (one of my favourite labour pain management devices to date). I had worship music playing in the background. I was sipping on Gatorade Fit (free of the dyes found in regular Gatorade). Scott started packing a bag for our boy to go away for the night, contacted our babysitter, and called our midwife. Scott timed some of my contractions, which were about two minutes apart by this point. My midwife and our babysitter arrived at about the same time. I remember my midwife coming in and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of me, watching, smiling, chatting, asking me questions. She was wearing a bright red sweater and black leggings (funny the details you remember, but forget other things). I remember still trying to tell myself that this wasn’t real labour (HA). I also remember being in transition, because I had the common symptom of shaking. After my son was gone, I was ready to move upstairs into the bathtub.

INTERJECTION: I was supposed to borrow an inflatable birth pool from a friend of mine. However, it had been used at my other friend’s 1:00 am birth the night before, so it never made it to my house. Bathtub it was!

They say water is the midwife’s epidural (or aquadural). Well LET ME TELL YOU, it is TRUE. The warm water felt AMAZING. I was kneeling over the edge of the tub with my hubby squeezing my hips (hallelujah), and my midwife pouring water over my back and periodically snapping a photo. Once I was in the water, it was only a very short time before the fetal ejection reflex kicked in — yup, that’s a thing, in case you didn’t know! Up until this point I had been able to talk and smile, and breath calmly through contractions. “Calm” went out the window once I started pushing. It was either two contractions back to back, or one long one, and her head was out. I had a very short break to take a breath, and then the second/third contraction came, and out slid our tiny baby girl. Scott caught her coming out, and she was brought up into my arms. Purple, tiny, wrinkly, covered in vernix, wailing, and absolutely beautiful to my eyes (but also kinda alien looking). There was no tearing; but I cried tears of joy (see what I did there?).

After E was born, I lay back in the bathtub until the placenta was birthed and we were ready to cut the cord, which Scott also did. I don’t think he ever imagined himself being so hands on during the birth of one of his children, but he handled it like a champ. Especially being in the bathtub with me. Our midwife was kind enough to give us a placenta tour. She showed us the birth sack our sweet baby had lived in for nine months, where it had been attached to the uterus, and how it was attached to the placenta. What a fascinating, beautifully constructed organ that our bodies just GROW to nourish a baby! God’s design is truly awesome.

Our little girl was 6 pounds and 4 ounces at birth, and 19 inches long. She was (and still is) healthy, beautiful, petite and feminine.

This birth was, in a multitude of ways, an answer to prayer. My postpartum journey has been seasoned with so much grace. I thank God that I have not experienced postpartum depression this time around. I’ve been there once, and I have so much empathy for mamas who have to walk that road. It’s not something we choose, but it can be a powerful tool in the hands of a loving heavenly Father to create compassion and humility in the heart of someone like me.

My midwife, God bless her, was amazing. She provided outstanding prenatal and postpartum care, and did exactly what all midwives hope to do in a birth — sit and watch an amazing process unfold, and support the mama going through it.
My husband was so steady, supportive, present, attentive, and willing to get his hands dirty — quite literally. He would say he didn’t really feel like he knew what he was doing, but I think the Holy Spirit guided him. He was fantastic.
Our son had a great time with good friends of ours, who were kind enough to keep him for a night so that we could have a little extra time to rest. I think he even got serenaded by the whole family before he went to bed.

I was reflecting with Scott recently, and his comment was: “Birth is beautiful, but it’s disgusting.” Lol. Maybe not the words I would use myself… It is beautiful, but certainly not glamorous.

I am so thankful to God that I got to have my dream birth. I love the peacefulness of being at home and getting tucked into my own bed right after giving birth. I love the thorough, straightforward, empowering care given by the midwives, and the uncomplicated approach that my specific midwife took. I still like to look at the place in my living room where I laboured, or look at the bathtub (in some disbelief) and remember that this is where it happened.

If you are a woman reading this, I don’t know where you are in your journey with fertility, pregnancy, labour, delivery, motherhood, loss etc. I am sobered to think that this post may be like salt in a wound for some, while inspiring happy recollections for others. God knows you. And He knows your journey. He is perfect in rejoicing with those who rejoice, and weeping with those who weep. My prayer is that, wherever you are at when you read this, He may use it to minister to you somehow.

To Him be all the glory and praise.

2018 was a year of leaping growth and life-altering change. Early in the year, I sought out personal prayer ministry for the first time in my life. Around February, I had made great strides in moving on from my first relationship, but I felt stuck. There was some kind of snag in my growth and healing, such that I felt like I couldn’t fully emotionally move forward.
I remember sharing with a close friend about this struggle. She suggested that I might have some unbroken “soul ties” with my ex-boyfriend.
Soul ties?
I’d never heard of those before.
In short, this conversation was the catalyst for my seeking personal prayer ministry. I met with an older, wiser, godly woman who walked me through a prayerful process of forgiveness, surrendering my past relationship, and breaking off any unhealthy connections of the soul and spirit that had been formed with my previous boyfriend. That evening of prayer was a turning point in my journey. The “snag”, the feeling of running up against a wall in my healing journey, was removed. My heart was able to mend more completely after that than it had before.

By late spring/early summer, I was beginning to enjoy being single again. I was trying not to entertain situations with guys that could potentially be a distraction, a fling, or just a selfish opportunity to feel affirmed and desired.
But then, there was Scott Lasuik. Unassuming, relaxed, friendly, his presence gradually became more prominent in my consciousness. Being a volunteer in his area of ministry frequently threw us into the same circles at church, and we had a number of mutual friends. Over a period of a few months, I got acquainted with this fun-loving, musically talented worship leader, who just so happened to be single.

One weekend — I believe it was a Sunday afternoon — I joined a group of young adults from church at a local park for an afternoon BBQ. Scott was also among this group. Being vehicle-less at the time, I had hitched a ride with a couple of friends. When the group began to disband, my need for a ride was met by an offer from Scott to take me home. On our way to the house where I was renting a basement suite at the time, we decided to stop and get ice cream. Conveniently, my landlords weren’t home that day, so we took advantage of the backyard and sat on the deck. We ate ice cream and discussed a recent worship song that was getting some controversial attention in Christian circles. I enjoyed the fact that I could discuss music and theology with this guy.

Sometime later, we planned to hang out on a Sunday after church. (Isn’t this the most stereotypical church-y couple story you’ve ever heard?) On July 21st, the day before our planned date (though we didn’t call it that at the time), I wrote the following:

And as I look ahead to tomorrow, I am curious and excited. I’m hanging out with Scott tomorrow afternoon, and I have no idea what the outcome of that will be[…] But God weaves threads into my life, and He knows that He will pull and push and pin those threads in particular ways to accomplish His purposes. And I don’t know how hanging out with Scott fits into that… I may discover that I really enjoy spending time with him, or that I don’t. And there is his side of the equation to be figured as well. But I am hoping, trusting, anticipating that somehow our Sunday hang-out and the almost non-stop texting of the past week will somehow fit into the thread God is weaving in my life.

The following afternoon, we enjoyed a low-key lunch together and went out for a mediocre dessert. I remember fretting over whether or not I would enjoy spending an afternoon with Scott, and concluding that I would suggest we go see a movie. That way, if it turned out to be awful or very awkward, at least we could do something that didn’t require us to carry a conversation.
It turns out (you guessed it) that it wasn’t a horrible afternoon — though there were a couple of awkward pause moments in our conversations — but we decided to go see The Incredibles 2 anyway. When Scott dropped me off at home later that day, he said: “We should do this again sometime.”

“I would like that,” I replied.

Surprise me, Jesus! I want to wonder at what You do, and be in awe of You and Your plans for my life. I know You can astonish the socks off of me; so I am expectant for it. I wait for You. I trust You. I trust Your love and Your goodness. I trust Your wisdom.

February 25, 2018, my journal

Eight months prior to this journal entry, my first boyfriend had broken up with me. In 2017 I had met a guy who checked every box on my list. What exactly those boxes were is irrelevant; what’s interesting to note is that he was basically a slightly older, male version of me. He had a lot of the traits that I liked about myself. Vanity on full display, am I right? Well, it turns out that being with someone just like me wasn’t the best situation. Our relationship was fast-paced and only lasted two months. One of those two months was long distance. We were talking marriage and future from the get-go — which, bear in mind, isn’t always a bad thing — and I got emotionally invested really fast. One afternoon in June, just before I got on a plane to attend a family wedding, he called me and broke up with me. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; after all, we only dated for two months. But to 21-year-old me — full of romanticized ideals about dating and marriage, and really thinking this was “the one” — the breakup was shattering. I had long held the dream of dating one man and marrying him, and that breakup made my head spin.

Prior to my first boyfriend, my concept of dating was largely informed by the 90’s and early 2000’s “purity culture”. Currently a lot of people on the internet seem to be giving purity culture a bad reputation. While it had its downfalls, I want to go on record for saying that there was a lot of good, godly, Biblical wisdom to be found in some of the literature and principles that came out of that movement. The fact that there seems to be a reaction against it in Christian circles today is actually concerning. But that’s for another blog post.
I was the teenager that devoured Christian dating books. Being a perfectionist by nature, and someone who is prone to err on the side of legalism, I built a framework around dating that was mostly comprised of legalistic, unrealistic expectations. I heard someone describe purity culture as another type of prosperity gospel that says, “If you date this way, and follow these rules, then you’ll never have your heart broken and your marriage is going to be a perfect happily-ever-after.” This pretty much sums up what I believed going into my first relationship.

It shocked me to discover that no matter how “good” you date, you can still wind up with a broken heart. The months preceding the journal entry above were full of honest, hard, thorough processing; praying, crying out to God, asking questions, heart-searching, becoming disillusioned with my own ideals, preaching to myself, giving God my expectations and asking Him to give me new ones. God did a lot of “heart surgery” on me in those months. He gave me compassion for others who go through painful breakups where there had previously been pride and judgement. He gave me humility where I had previously been arrogant. He showed me lies that I had believed about relationships, and He started to reconstruct my views according to the truth. He brought me into a vibrant community of believers in a church that I still call my home. He liberated me to discover more of who He created me to be, instead of trying to become what someone else wanted me to be. He showed me the shallowness and vanity of some of my expectations of a future husband. Ever so graciously, gently, patiently, God pried my fingers open around my ideals and opened my hands to receive what He had in store.

You may be wondering what this has to do with my love story. And the answer is, a lot. God used my first relationship to show me that a male version of me was not what I needed. He began to open me up to the idea that what was best for me might be very different from me and my ideals. If I had never dated (and broken up with) my “perfect guy”, I would never have seen how faulty my ideals were. I needed to become disillusioned with my fantasy in order to be open to God’s better reality.

On September 23, 2017, I attended a friend’s wedding. It was just three months after my breakup, and I was nowhere near ready for another date. But seated at my table, along with a bunch of other single, eligible individuals (funny how that happens at weddings), was a guy named Scott who was on staff at a local church. He was a musician, I was a musician, and that was enough in common for us to have some pleasant conversation. But by the end of the night I had forgotten about him, and he didn’t cross my mind again for some time.

Fast forward to November, and I found myself attending Heartland Alliance Church. God made it abundantly clear to me that He wanted me there, so I jumped in with both feet. By the end of the year, I had started volunteering in the worship arts ministry. I was still processing a lot of stuff with God. He was working on my heart, healing wounds, and restoring my hope in His plan for me. I was loving being involved in church, putting my musical skillset to good use in the worship arts ministry, and working hard at getting my teaching degree.
And at the start of 2018, I was unaware of the smile on God’s face and the pattern of His fingerprints in my life as I regularly began crossing paths with that worship leader, Scott.

It surprised me to open my blog and see that I haven’t published a post in nearly two years. I suppose there is a lot that I could catch up on — getting pregnant, the “end” of the pandemic, having our first baby, getting ready to move in a few weeks etc. Perhaps I’ll devote some time to the baby part down the road.

For now, it has been on my mind of late to share my husband’s and my love story. I have a few reasons for wanting to do this.
Firstly, I want to have it documented in a more narrative style. I intend to sift through some old journal entries to bring more clarity and accuracy to this version of our story. I cannot guarantee that I won’t embellish it here and there, just a little…but I will do my best to be truthful.
Secondly, I think it is a good practice for married people to reflect on the why’s and the how’s of their love. It reminds me of the reasons why I fell in love with and chose to marry my husband. It also gives me an opportunity to reflect on and trace the hand of God in our lives up until now.
Thirdly, I hope it might offer encouragement and edification to my readership (hi Mama!). As someone who grew up a consumer of Christian dating books and idealizing around the principles of the 90’s “purity culture”, I think there are some people who perhaps had/have similar ideals to mine that might find hope and encouragement in my story.
And finally, my husband encouraged me today that I should keep writing. Thanks for cheering me on, babe.

I do not have an outline of how many posts I will write or how often I will be posting. But I intend to pick up the metaphorical pen of my blog once more and share our story with you over the coming months.
If you want to come along for the read (see what I did there?), please bear with me as we will be moving in a few weeks, immediately followed by a trip out of town to visit some family. I’m also in the delightful and demanding throes of having an 8-month old baby; so, by the time he’s in bed and my day’s tasks are sufficiently completed, it’s usually almost my bed time. Or at least, the time at which I should be going to bed. In other words, I don’t get around to writing as much as I would like these days.

I hope our story will not only encourage you, but also make you laugh, ponder, and seek the Lord.

I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember Your wonders of old.
I will ponder all Your work,
and meditate on Your mighty deeds.

Psalm 77:11-12, ESV

Occasional sounds of apartment life were the only noises disrupting the quietness of my first official summer break morning. Oh; and some anonymous whirring from outside somewhere. It was a delightfully slow morning. Face-washing, nail clipping, coffee making (and sipping); toast crunching (and munching); texts sending, emails checking, some pensive reflecting.

It does feel a little strange to be on holidays. After the hustle & bustle of the end of the school year (and what a year it has been!), it certainly takes some getting used to. From a never-ending to-do list and rushed weekday mornings, to a sudden evaporation of deadlines. I now have the freedom to do (or not to do) at my own pace, with a very forgiving schedule.

One of my “reflectings” this morning centred around social media. A few months ago I completely deleted my Facebook and Instagram accounts — not just deactivated, but deleted them. In short, too much of my time was being consumed by curating posts, responding to posts, awaiting comments and “likes”, and brooding over the growing political tension that has slithered its way onto social media platforms.

It’s no surprise to me that I’ve been feeling the itch to get back on it lately; however, my reflections revealed that the benefits to me of not having social media have far outweighed the losses.

If you can relate to my experience, here are ten benefits that I have perceived or experienced from not being on social media.

1. I am generally less anxious. Why? I think, for me, it is because I am not constantly bombarded with negativity and politically charged content. I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but that is my initial perception.
   
2. I have fewer opportunities to compare myself (or my life) to other women.
   
3. I am wasting less time scrolling through feeds.
   
4. I think I am more intentional with people and relationships that I want to invest in.
   
5. I am living more in the moment and being more present with people, instead of trying to capture the perfect image or curate the perfect post.
   
6. I am less likely to say something on the internet that I might regret later. It is pretty easy to post my thoughts on social media with little consideration as to how they will be understood by, or how they will impact, others. And more to that point…
   
7. …I have to weigh my words more carefully in my conversations with others.
   
8. I have fewer opportunities to pamper my vanity. I give less attention to criticizing or perfecting my appearance when I’m not posting pictures of myself on the internet.
   
9. I am not getting caught up in useless & fruitless arguments or debates on social media.
   
10. When I hang out with people or have a conversation with someone, we have lots to share and discuss because we have not seen all of each other’s news all over Facebook or Instagram.
    

Allow me a disclaimer: I am not saying that social media is bad all the time for everyone. It certainly has good functions and can be beneficial. Perhaps you are one of those fortunate few for whom social media is not a vice. I’m married to such a person, and I am so thankful for that!
But maybe you’re like me, and you find it all-to easy to buy into the trends of media — filtering, editing, looking for the ideal moments to capture, pouring over people’s comments and likes, comparing, getting distracted, feeling less-than because your appearance or lifestyle does not match up to someone you follow, experiencing heightened anxiety over political debates and “cancel” culture all over your media feed… and the list could go on.

Can I challenge you: maybe you need a break. This summer, as we (hopefully) start to experience some real reprieve from social and public restrictions, can I encourage you to give yourself a reprieve from social media as well? Consider disconnecting for a while so that you can sink your feet into these precious moments and really connect with the people around you. What do you have to lose?

Or more importantly: what do you have to gain?

6-8 minute read.

My husband’s and my first anniversary is just a couple of days away. As I reminisce on our wedding day, and the first year of marriage we’ve enjoyed, I ponder with gratitude the process that led up to that unparalleled day.

I write this, knowing that many brides and grooms within the past year have had to seriously reconfigure their own wedding visions. Several of my friends have had the wedding they never dreamed of, making huge adjustments due to ever-changing restrictions, foregoing and grieving elements that were very important to them. Brides and grooms of this past year, I commend you. You have demonstrated a value in your sacrifice that is a worthy lesson to our culture: the prize of the wedding is the marriage, not the wedding itself.

Realizing this, I would like to share some reflections on some of the elements of our planning and wedding day that made it meaningful for us.

Our wedding was not a two-person show. I grew up being taught that God was interested and invested in every detail of a wedding that sought to honour Him. I also had the privilege of seeing my large extended family pull together and pull off some exceptionally beautiful weddings as aunties, uncles, and cousins gave their time and skills to make wedding dreams a reality.

So good community and prayer were the foundations of our planning process. My Mom had always encouraged me that God wanted to be involved in my wedding day, and that I could pray about every aspect of it. She often joined or led me in prayer during our engagement, pouring over all the details and asking God to provide. Sometimes this was super easy. At other times, it was more difficult and required laying down some assumptions and entitlements to allow the Holy Spirit to impart His peace and His vision for what our day could look like. Sometimes prayer resulted in a priority shift; in choosing to let go of one element in favour of another, or simply to keep within budget. I can say with full confidence that I don’t regret inviting the Lord into it; if anything, I would encourage my 23-year-old bride-to-be self to trust God even more than I did. Absolutely worth it.

We had been advised that our primary focus should not be the wedding day, but the marriage. For us, this partly meant looking for cost-effective ways to make the day happen so that we wouldn’t be limping financially later. I recall evaluating and re-evaluating our priorities throughout our engagement, discerning where we wanted to “splurge” a little, and where we were willing to make changes and save.

This is where our community was crucial. Being a part of a large church family, we were able to connect with people who were excited and willing to serve us. Some very essential and meaningful components of our wedding were gifted to us by people in our community. Our wedding invitations, live music, bridal hair and makeup, and most of the decor are a few of the areas where we were blessed by family and friends. Besides this, our bridal party, family, and some friends became the set-up and take-down committee, giving hours of their time to put all the pieces together and create a truly exquisite environment for our special day.

About a year and a half before us, friends of ours had gotten married and hosted a stand-up lunch reception instead of a full-scale dinner and dance. This was new to me, and certainly not my original ideal for my wedding day. As we considered how to keep our wedding within a budget, this concept became more appealing. We decided to use our church’s large foyer as a stand-up reception hall (which saved us BIG bucks on a separate reception venue). My Mom, who has an expert’s eye for decor and spacial arrangement, put her skills in action to create an atmosphere that balanced elegance with a casual living room feel. Fortunately, most of the church’s Christmas decor was still around, which added a festive ambiance to our decor.

With the help of my aunt and uncle, my parents scavenged and searched for every piece of decor. They actually made some of the pieces themselves, like rustic wooden crates, and a stunning winter scape painting that my Mom gifted to us. The results of their hard work were magical.

A professional wedding cake had never been one of my absolutes; probably because they’re expensive and I don’t like fondant. However, it just so happened that my lovely Mother-in-law was a professional cake decorator for many years. To my delight, she generously offered to make us a custom wedding cake! This cake became one of the most eye-catching features of our reception, embellished with pine cones and bits of fir. Not only was it a gorgeous cake, but it was delicious. Instead of being covered in sugary fondant, the whole cake was lathered in buttercream icing carved into spruce trees and mountains. This was an incredibly meaningful gift and beautiful addition to our wintery theme.

If I were to peg the most significant parts of my wedding, people would be in the top tier. As is evident above, nothing about our wedding would have been possible without the people who were involved. We looked for ways to include as many of our special people as we could. Besides our wedding party, we had friends and family help with decorating, sound and tech, ushering, transportation of decor pieces etc. Not only did they work to keep the bulk of the stress and labour off of me and Scott, but they were all-in celebrating with us on the day itself. So many of the people who attended our wedding had been praying for and supporting us leading up to and throughout our relationship. Sharing our day with them was a delight.

This takes me to my favourite formal part of our wedding day — the ceremony.
When I was a kid, I thought of the ceremony as the “boring part” that I had to sit through to get to the “fun part” (i.e. food and dancing). As I attended more weddings in my teens and earlier twenties, I realized that the ceremony is really the meat and potatoes of the wedding (pun intended). This is where a bride is given; where two lives are united in a sacred union that is created to last “till death do us part”. The vows are not witnessed only by friends and family, but by the Holy Trinity as He makes the two, one.

I believe that the ultimate purpose of a wedding ceremony is to reflect Jesus Christ and His relationship with the Church. I have been witness to several weddings that have showcased this in creative, profound ways, and it was our wish that Jesus would be highlighted in this event. As we brainstormed and selected the elements we wanted, we also started realizing the spiritual significance of this part of our wedding. Weddings are a big deal to God. Our ceremony was definitely seasoned with humour, and was full of joy; but it is a solemn thing to make a life-long commitment to another person.

One of the wonderful mysteries of being a Christian is that our joy is the fullest when Jesus Christ is made much of; and I feel that our wedding ceremony was amazing because we worshiped Jesus. I wouldn’t say it was flawless; but cherishing Christ, hearing the gospel clearly articulated, praising God, realizing that our wedding was just a taste of when Jesus comes for His Bride, the Church — this is what made our ceremony feel full and valuable and rich.

I am grateful for every step of the journey that planning our wedding and preparing for our marriage entailed. I am most grateful and amazed at how God continues to reveal more of His plan to us as we look back, and as we anticipate what is still to come.

Thanks for sharing in my reflections.

All photos taken by the lovely and talented Candace Flynn Photography.

(3-4 minutes)

This week will mark ten months of marriage to my husband. What a season it has been! Full of goodness, growth, laughter, conversations, learning curves of varying degrees, and so. much. grace.

To avoid a verbal dump of all the things, I’ll stick to ten aspects of first-year marriage (in no particular order) that have been significant to me.

1. It’s the little things. When he changes the laundry over ahead of me; or takes out the garbage; or leaves me a little note; or starts my car for me before work; or puts his hands on my shoulders while I’m doing devotions in the morning, signifying his agreement with me in prayer — these are the subtle aromas of romance and delight in every-day life. The little things also push my buttons. But I won’t give you a list of those. I know mine push his buttons too.
   
2. Solitude doesn’t mean “alone” as much as it used to. Many of my solitary practices are now conducted in the presence of another person. Even if he’s not in the same room as me, an apartment is a pretty up-close-and-personal space. Getting used to praying aloud, reading, journaling, or anything that used to be done in privacy, in the presence of another person — is an adjustment.
   
3. There’s so much to explore! And I’m not just talking sexually (although that’s a pretty significant realm of discovery). Exploring each other’s preferences, daily routines, hobbies, and communication styles has been both fun and challenging in the first few months. Even when exploration results in disagreement or tension, viewing it as an opportunity to learn has really enriched the journey thus far.
   
4. Intimacy takes work. Yes, even in the first year of being married. Perhaps especially in the first year. To be united with my husband — spirit, soul, and body — has implications and effects/affects that I simply could not anticipate prior to being married. And most of it has been very good.
   
5. Waiting was undoubtedly worth it. Not for a single moment do I regret waiting to be sexually intimate until marriage. I cannot stress enough how much joy and blessing has followed this obedience to God’s standard in scripture. I hope to write more on this topic down the road, so I’ll finish with this: in my experience, the sacrifice of sexual purity before marriage feels like a drop in the proverbial ocean of marital intimacy afterward. One thousand percent worth it.
   
6. Friends are important. We love hanging out with each other, but we do not fill every bucket in each other’s framework of social needs. We have made a point of continuing to cultivate our individual relationships with friends, and I believe it has greatly added to our health as a couple.
   
7. We are different... Goodness gracious, are we ever!
   
8. …and different is good! I feel like I have grown and expanded a lot as a person already! My interests have broadened, my husband has challenged me to pursue God in ways that I would’ve shied away from before, and I’m more relaxed about a lot of things than I used to be, to give you just a few examples.
   
9. We share the good and the bad. The perfectionist in me only wants to share the good. But it turns out that I can’t keep the bad under wraps for long; and the crazy truth is that he doesn’t want me to. Our individual and collective need for “grace upon grace” becomes clearer, and the gospel behind that promise sweeter, as we learn that we’re meant to see, love, forgive, be humble, and keep washing each other’s feet.
   
10. “A cord of three strands is not easily broken.” It’s more obvious to me now than it was on our wedding day how paramount that Third Strand is. Jesus Christ is a non-negotiable. I am beginning to grasp how God’s design for marriage simply cannot work unless Christ is the centre pillar of the union.

3 – 5 minute read.

Discouragement, congestion, and the discomfort of a less-than-ideal sleep were my companions upon waking this morning. I suppose the crash of just getting home from two weeks of vacation contributed to the feeling as well. Discouragement. A vague notion that the world is dismal and dreary. It has also been raining all day. I love a good pathetic fallacy when it suits my mood.

Five months of living in a coronavirus world feels very long. I find myself often reflecting on bygone days of not having to wear masks, exchanging friendly smiles with strangers as we pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store, and going to church every weekend. That last one, especially, feels like a treasure lost. How I miss gathering with other believers in worship and hearing the Word.

I don’t like what Covid has done to our world. I am aghast at, and grieved by, the fear that has gripped our nation and our world. Millions of people are writhing helplessly in its clutches, clinging desperately to their health and possessions. And who can blame them? For so many people, physical health and material things are both the means and the end of their hope, happiness, and purpose for living.

Coronavirus should not be a political issue. But it is. It has the potential to be divisive at the base level of society — in our own homes and families. I perceive, however vaguely, the affect it has on groups of friends, on governments, on organizations and institutions. Church leadership are beset with the cumbersome responsibility of deciding how to shepherd their flocks. Scripture commands believers to submit to governing authorities, that our peaceable way of life would be a testimony of Christ (see Romans 13:1-7 and 1 Peter 2:13-17). But we’re also commanded not to forsake the gathering of believers; nor to fear man over God (see Hebrews 10:24-25, Acts 5:26-29, and 2 Timothy 1:7). Needless to say, the “right” answer seems very difficult to extrapolate at this time.

Stay with me. There’s light at the end of this tunnel.

While in the vortex of too many thoughts and several stirring emotions this morning, I turned on my playlist. The first two songs were well-known favourites of recent months. They’ve often ministered to me, and today again certain lines jumped out to confront my despairing frame of mind:

“Way Maker, Miracle Worker, Promise Keeper, Light in the Darkness…”

Followed by:

“All my life You have been faithful;
All my life You have been so, so good…”

And then I was very quickly humbled as I pondered the reality of these words.
Friends, the coronavirus pandemic has not changed God.
His power has not been reduced. His light has not lost its radiance. His truth is not rendered a lie. All that has ever been true of Him in millenia past is true of Him still.

There is no telling exactly how long we will be required to wear masks and keep our distance from other people. God knows. But I find that it is vitally important for me to be mindful that God is still sovereign. However it may seem that covid has the world in its grip, nonetheless covid is subject to a good God. Charles Spurgeon said:
“God is too good to be unkind and He is too wise to be mistaken. And when we cannot trace His hand, we must trust His heart.”

The Light still shines in the darkness. And the darkness does not comprehend it.

• Hyperlinks provided in the text.
• “Way Maker” by Leeland.
• “Goodness of God” by Jenn Johnson.
• Also check out John 1:4-5.

“Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart.” 
~ Psalm 37:4 ~

I read a blog post today that reminded me of the necessity to look ahead — not back. I like to think of myself as a dreamer. There’s something wistful and romantic about it. But in these quiet Covid days, I often find my mind retreating to things of the past. I don’t know if wishful thinking is exactly the right term; but the dark fold of my romantic personality sometimes enjoys lingering on past hurts, past failures, almost romanticizing them. Sometimes, almost without realizing it, the faces and voices and conversations of the past resurrect themselves like shimmery apparitions. My adjusted view of the past almost makes those memories look shiny, even if they’re quite dull or ugly in reality. 

I want to look ahead. I want to take on the attitudes of Scripture. 

“Strength and honour are her clothing; she shall rejoice in time to come.”
(Proverbs 31:25)

Other translations say that “she smiles [or laughs] at the future”. 
We are a people called to lay “the broken, irreversible past in [God’s] hands, and step out into the invincible future with Him” (Oswald Chambers). We are not called to look back with longing. Jesus actually said that the person who puts their hand to the plow and turns back is not fit for the kingdom of God (Luke 9:62). 

So what about dreams? Dreams past, dreams present, dreams broken? Dreams still to be realized? 

Certainly they have a place. Our imaginations were not an arbitrary ingredient when our Creator made us in His image. In fact, I think we are made to imagine and to dream. If what scripture says is true, then God is “able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think” — doesn’t your imagination just start to go wild at that phrase? What could God not do? That is the rhetorical question. 

So this evening, as I’m enraptured by the moody rain-and-sun outside my patio doors, I am asking myself: what am I dreaming? What is the focus and the source of my dreams? 

If my past holds more allure for me than the prospects of my future, then I need to hit ‘reset’ on my framework. As my mom often used to say, “Our dreams should be greater than our memories.”