& I'll be comin' your way

Dear world,

I am taken,
and I have taken many courageous, mostly scared, very sacred, steps toward my taken-ness.

If you do not know my whole story... well, that's for another time. 23 years of life recollection seems a bit much for here. But I can surely summarize the year of 21 until now. On the week of my 21st birthday, my mother had a heart attack. I was in Texas celebrating with a friend, and I was planning on leaving the great state of Alabama soon after my vacation and returning to where my heart had stayed a couple years before: Denver, CO. Needless to say, the health condition of my mama stirred fear in me, but nonetheless, my heart called my name from the far away mountain range and begged me to go back. I also feared this going back was a backwards step that would leave me in more of a fluster than on a focused path. Further still I went. Away and back again. To recover my passion. To learn. To be soaked in community and hopefully acquaint myself better with Jesus, who I hoped would give me answers and restore my forgotten joy.

Fear & insecurity held tight to me as I re-entered a very familiar place. This time I knew less friends. This time I felt completely vulnerable. Less excitement, more anxiety. My third YWAM school was intense. I had gone with another expectation-- to be face to face with a guy-friend that I knew but didn't really know, and with whom I was very intrigued by. I wanted to try this dating/ relationship thing, but I also wanted to stay in my safe, protected bubble. This is also a story for another time, but just to give you context, I was nervous upon nervous and strangely prepared for something & someone to come into my life, break down my ridiculous walls, and show me such persistent, accepting love that I was left humbled and defenseless, clinging to a version of faith I'd not yet known.

My heart experienced quite a journey in those 5 months. Way, way up and way, way, way down. So many tears and so much snot, you probably wouldn't believe it. Provision. Prophecy. I was rocked. And I once again fell in-love with this place and these people who were on unique yet similar journeys, and who lovingly embraced each other-- heart to heart, snotty face to snotty, blotchy face. And we were all changed, further still.

In the beautiful country of Brasil, another journey began, though not to my knowledge at the time. Kip Jones was a mostly quiet, seemingly light-hearted and funny soul who I had overlooked for the previous 3 months. Though he was in my school (and there were only 12 of us) I did not see much of him. He later confessed that being one of two males in the school was a bit overwhelming, so the not seeing each other was mostly intentional. He had an amazing smile that totally gave away the precious softness of his heart. He captured my attention at times, and I quickly dismissed the silly girl thoughts. But in the land of strange creatures and wildness unknown to all of us, I found myself lingering beside him on long walks through thick trees and sitting next to him on crowded bus rides into the city, blindly enamored by him. It was during a night of watching the movie Date Night, sharing headphones and deep, gut-laughs; during days of talking to each other about home and friends and family, realizing that we really couldn't be more different; afternoons of lying in hammocks silently & very much aware of the other's presence; him picking minuscule thorns out of my hand, and me later watching him sear his foot-wound closed (like a real man); rainy afternoons teaching us how to play Texas Hold'Em; dance parties; and best of all, witnessing both tenderness and crazyness as we shared playtime with the kids nearly every day. Watching him exhaust himself to their fun & benefit left me weak in the knees & confused in the head. Didn't I want this other person? What the hell am I doing?

The journey back from Brasil was somber yet entertaining as I taught him to play Dutch Blitz on a plane ride, dreading the separation that soon would be between myself and all of these beautiful new friends of mine. Kip had agreed to stay at Cassie's house after the trip-- a lovely friend we both drew close to during our school. I held tightly to the thought that he liked someone else, and I still liked someone else, and that our differences would never, ever allow us to have the phenomenal friendship that I had glimpsed and yet refused to believe was possible. After all, we were going back to completely opposite sides of the United States, and everyone knows... Yankees and Hicks don't get along. Though we hit it off, who knows what would happen if our friends & families met each other. :)

We parted ways on the streets of Boulder-- leaving him with Danny and me climbing back into the car with Cassie, exchanging sarcastic words of "I guess I'll never see you again" and me shedding a few surprising tears at the possible truth of that thought. Upon my arrival to stay with family in Illinois before going home, I received a hopeful phone call:
Kip, staying in the snowy tundra that is Fargo, calling to tell me that he feels a certain way towards me and wants to respectfully back away should I not share in those feelings. I happily (and shakily) confessed that I did, indeed, share in those same feelings. And we talked until 6 am.

So began a new journey.

I was ruined after that. "Where do I go now? What should I do here? Should he move here? I need to know him in real life!" Stir crazy is an understatement at its finest. Apparently my heart couldn't get enough adventure, so we planned a road trip to Canada with some of my besties. First time together since YWAM, and never have I felt so awkward and at a complete loss of normal function. And he still liked me. A lot. And I was so uncomfortable! Awkwardness is a great way to describe the early days of our dating relationship. There was much fun at the newness of being downtown, in the uncertainty of what I was actually doing. Later came some defiance, closely followed by miscommunication, forced affection, and boundaries... what boundaries? I felt really lost at times. We were both angry. I slowly began to separate myself. My thoughts were one thing, my feelings were another, and my soul was suffering quietly, at least for a time. Little to my knowledge, I had deep things in me that were planted there at a young age and had grown all of these years-- like thorny weeds hiding in the underbrush of a garden, sometimes you don't find them until you start digging around. Or until the flowers finally wilt away and nearly die. It's difficult to put words to this time in our relationship. I was deeply wounded, crippled by my own shame and pain that was finally brought to the surface after years of stuffing, shielding, and shunning it. None of these tactics worked. What did work was experiencing betrayal. Feeling betrayed by everyone and everything under the sun, feeling hurt and lost and unknown. Feeling like I could never be fixed or forget or forgive. Feeling as if this person who I had made all of these "sacrifices" for, invested all of this time and effort into, did not see me or understand me at all... nor did he love me enough to pursue me in the ways I desired to be pursued. Betrayal. And I had very much betrayed him.

I entered a "dark night of the soul," so I'v heard some call it. I doubted everything. I gave myself permission to feel everything, mainly deep sorrow and furious anger. I let myself be completely broken, for the first time ever. I didn't try to keep it together or hold it in. Shame showed it's ugly face. And with the support of so many: counselor Tom, small group friends, far away friends, and most of all, Kip, I stared It in the face and refused, even in my frail broken humanness, to let It win. I decided to weld the two me's together, melting my head knowledge into my whole being-- trusting more with each breath that God is great, that He is my Abba who loves and cares and heals and feels and acts. I chose to believe even when it wasn't, and isn't, the complete truth of how I felt or what I currently experience.

Emerging out of the inner darkness, I realized how totally loved I was and am. Not just by my gracious Abba but by this man who has seen the best and absolute worst parts of me. He has seen my pride, my lack of compassion, my superficiality and my hypocrisy; he has heard my ridiculous fears and seen my impulsive self-salvaging habits. And he loves me, not for those things, but in & through them. And I love him in all of it. Choosing to keep stepping forward, together, has brought us to this next part of our journey, which is a story in and of itself.


July 9, 2012. My 23rd birthday. A boring prime number, yet there was nothing boring about this day at all. Expecting to have a counseling sesh, only to find that I apparently made up the appointment in my head, I drove back to my house to gather my supplies for the day and pick up Kip for our breakfast date.Wilde Roast was my request. Driving over the Hennepin bridge, Kip pointed out Nicollet Island and nonchalantly mentioned that we should walk down there after breakfast. I agreed, knowing I'd probably eat way too much and a stroll would be helpful for my birthday gluttony. We were bummed to see the patio already full of happy guests, and made our way to the counter then to the bar to better scope for an opening table outside. These two nice gentlemen greeted us after a while and gave us permission to hover over them while they finished their coffee. I didn't really hear the part about hovering-- I just grabbed my stuff expecting to sit down right away, to which they joyfully received our company. Warren and Jonathan, you will forever be part of our story, and we'd love to come see your beautiful yard and your highly taxed home. And we promise to vote No. :)

Post-breakfast (with an achingly full tummy) we walked down and around to the river, commenting on its color and correcting Kip's assumption that the Gulf looks similar. No, not at all. After some small talk and a bit more walking, he abruptly stopped me.With a very serious & gentle expression on his face, he began speaking words not uncommon to my ears or my heart. He expressed his deep desire to do something extra special on my birthday, to which I replied how much I loved my gifts, to which he seemed to ignore me and kept talking. The speech took a steep turn when he referenced a special conversation with his papa, including biblical references about women and men and love and longing and completion and togetherness. And with more words that my mind did not absorb because my heart was beating way too loud and my lungs were not functioning properly and my thoughts were racing in nervous anticipation, he bent down in humility, vulnerability, and hopefulness, and asked me to one day become his wife. And without hesitation, with a whole lot of joy and a burst of holy confidence, I accepted his proposal.

We are engaged to be married! Transitioning from a journey of friendship & curiosity, from intentional time together to an honest-to-God promise to each other, we are thrilled and fully ready to continue our journey. We are thankful beyond thankfulness for so many faithful friends and family who have encouraged us along the way, giving us the right words at the right time, letting us question and be upset and praying so fervently for the best outcome. And we whole-heartedly believe that this is the best-- that our challenges have shaped us in hard ways and changed us immensely, creating new people who better know how to love, serve, and give of themselves. People who are present and honest, who want more than anything to live graciously, respectfully, and love like Jesus.

The following post greatly blessed my heart and so brilliantly illustrates what we both believe is the purpose woven into relationship, specifically between life-partners, and it's what we want our love to be a window to: the ever present, constant, radical, audacious, and unending love of the Father in Jesus Christ our Lord.

"And three years later, with dust in all the cracks of his sturdy, peasant feet,

He walked a long and rocky trail to the top of death hill.

Because that is where His chapel was and He was going to get married.

But His vows of love needed to be written in blood; red ribbons of split-wide sacrifice.

Cross-eyed and crossed-out and criss-crossed in pain, six ways damned til Sunday, he said,

'I take you...

to have and to hold...

from this day forward

in sickness and in health

in riches and in poverty

... as long as we both shall live,'

which is nothing short of eternity.

You, together, represent the image of Christ.

The image of Christ.

You mean the one I just detailed? This was and is the answer my soul was desperate for hearing. 'Why marriage?' Because I would give my living and dying breath to reflect an image like that--

an image of a marriage declaring an insurmountable love. 

When we re-fastened ourselves one to the other it was with intention that we,

together,

are a mirror of the risen Son on his wedding day."

--Erika

amen.

I love you, Christopher Alan Jones.