Rugs

I know it doesn't seem like much, but Adam and I bought rugs this afternoon. It's such a special experience slowly building our home together.

Wedding Party: Erica the Bridesmaid

Part four in my (now almost complete) series on the bridal party...

My younger sisters are twins, so there is no picking one without the other. Not that it would have mattered. Erica has been an extraordinary blessing in so may ways. I don't know what I would have done without her.

I think Erica may be the most excited member of the wedding party. She's the one who calls every week or so to remind me, "Four more months!" or "Three more weeks!" She helped keep my enthusiasm up, even on the days in Oxford when America, Adam, and marriage seemed so far away. Erica is probably the closest to marriage of my bridal party, so she really understands my joy. And Erica has that rare virtue of always accepting a loved-one's joy as her joy, too.

Erica has also found the way to strike the right balance between refusing to offer her opinions and backing off to let me make a decision. When we went dress shopping, most people who went with me said, "You should get whatever you like," or "Get that one! The other one looks awful on you!" Erica was the one who watched me for my reactions. She waited until she saw me put on the dress that made me happy. "That's the one," she said. And she was right. It was so nice having someone identify what I wanted from the embarrassment of choices at the bridal store. That's just the way she is, the way I aspire to be--helpful without ever being overbearing.

Erica has gone out of her way to be the helpful bridesmaid, but not in an annoying way. When she calls with a question she never says, "Why don't you do this?" or "You should ask Mom to do that." She calls and says, "I think we should do this. How can I help?" Her attitude has meant a lot to me, planning a wedding from afar. I haven't always taken up her offers, but I love knowing she's there to help no matter what.

Last night, for example, Erica called to tell me that the girl who had agreed to do my make-up backed out. I was disappointed--Erica knew I would be. But Erica never just calls with bad news. "Why don't you let me do your make-up?" she asked. Knowing I would be skeptical, she supported her offer with offers to learn from friends and on YouTube before a practice run the week before the wedding. She even volunteered to find a friend to do my make-up for me if I was too nervous about her doing it. Erica is the only person I know who offers help that way. She offered to put a lot of work into rendering me an important service, but gave me an easy out if I didn't want to take it. That's just Erica--my unassuming, always-generous, little sister/bridesmaid Erica. I am, as I always have been, grateful just to know her.

Enlightened

Catholics are used to accepting challenges of sexism in the Church. What could possibly be more sexist than a patriarchal organization with an all-male hierarchy? The Church controls women, telling them how to behave and imposing restrictions on their bodies, at least according to popular imagination. I have to say--although, as one of the "oppressed," my opinion may be tainted--that nothing could be further from the truth in my experience as a Catholic convert.

I've posted before about my early attempts to define my personal strengths within a masculine paradigm, trying to make myself more like a man to win the world's respect. It made me disliked (which was probably unfair) and utterly unhappy. It wasn't until I started exploring Catholicism that I discovered the Church's liberating teaching about the complementary strengths of men and women. I am special and equally valued for what I am as I was made.

I was delighted to find the same liberation in the very rite of marriage. For example, in many religious sects, the father of the bride or a trusted friend gives the bride to the groom; the Catholic Church rejects this teaching as a symbolic denial of a woman’s right to choose marriage for herself. I am the one who chooses my own destiny. My person and my maidenhead are mine to give to Adam just as much as he is his own person to give to me. Similarly, Catholic marriage vows affirm an equal partnership between bride and bridegroom. Even in the Old Rite, both partners make the same vow. No wife has to promise to obey.

There are many, I'm sure, who would still object to the Church's teaching about femininity and marriage. But I, for one, feel free and valued by the Church. I'm not just a machine for making little Catholics--Adam and I are a team, two partners representing humanity's relationship with the divine.

Apologies

I know I haven't reliably posted this month. I have three excuses.

First, with Adam in town, I don't need an outlet as desperately. It's always been difficult to maintain a blog while he's around. I'd rather spend time with him than writing.

Second, I'm writing an article (hopefully) for publication. It's made me less enthusiastic about writing blog posts.

Finally, with my wedding so imminent, it's difficult to force myself to think abstractly about marriage or weddings. I don't want to think about marriage--I want to be married.

So, I will do my best to keep the blog updated over the next eighteen days as my wedding approaches. Hopefully you can expect lots of pictures from the week-long celebration.

Thank you for bearing with me.

Wedding Nightmare #3

It has been a long time since I had a wedding nightmare. Overall, the planning has quieted. I'm more in love with Adam than words can describe. I feel calm and ready. Or at least I did until last night.

The dream started with my parents dropping me off at Target... after the wedding. For some reason, I didn't want to face the reception. I looked around Target for what I thought were a few hours. It was pretty dull.

There were some very cute children there with their parents. I tried to help them if they wanted a toy down from a shelf or play with them if they seemed to want a companion. But they all cried and their parents all made faces at me--none of them wanted my help.

Finally, I called my own parents to come and pick me back up. It was dark outside, which confused me. "What have you been doing?" Pop said, "It's nine o'clock."

"Did I miss the reception?" I asked, horrified.

"Of course you did," said Pop.

It soon became clear that I had abandoned Adam and all my guests. Adam had been left alone to cope with all of our family in friends--to eat cake alone, throw my bouquet, dance alone, and leave alone in a spray of unenthusiastic flower petals. He wasn't there when I got back to my empty house, strewn with party remains.

It was clear to me in the dream that I hadn't meant to skip the reception. I was so bitterly disappointed. All I'd wanted to do was spend a day with the man I love, celebrating with people who mean so much to me. But I failed. I forced myself to wake up before my heart broke in anger at myself.

The dream, I think, came from my anxiety about the RSVPs. I've let myself build up so much excitement about them that watching the responses roll has been a really emotion process. Maybe I've been so concerned about everyone else having a good time that I'm afraid I'll miss it or that I'll ruin it. And, what's worse, the dream seems to suggest that I'm afraid messing up at our reception bodes poorly for my marriage with Adam.

I Hate to Nag...

This is my second post on lessons remembered in For Women Only...


I'm sure I'm not the only woman who lives in fairly-constant fear of being a nag. It's the ultimate cultural rejection of the feminine, the exaggerated worst that all women can be. For many of us (at least I hope it's not just me), being a nag ranks with being a compulsive shopper or a binge eater--it's an abuse of what's good that tortures yourself and others.

That's why I was so disturbed in For Women Only by just how ready men are to perceive our actions as nagging. I thought husbands and wives were supposed to be teams, so I'm surprised and dismayed that men seem to perceive virtually any reminder to do something as nagging. If I'm Adam's helpmate, there has to be some ground here for helping him keep track of his massive to-do list.

Fortunately for me at least, I'm in love with a really reasonable man. I sat down and talked with him about what the book said and about my fear of nagging. While he agreed that reminders generally do seem like nagging, he conceded that my reminders are often useful or necessary. He plans to prove to me he doesn't need to be reminded before he expects me to give up trying to help me this way.

But what about women with less understanding husbands? I don't understand why mass culture is so ready to label a woman a nag. It seems unfair when I'm sure a majority of us are only trying to help when we remind our significant others of things. We're a team--if I do it out of love, I ought to be able to help him in whatever ways I sense are necessary without being accused of undermining him as a man. There has to be a compromise somewhere if only we're willing to discuss nagging together.

For Women Only doesn't really make pejorative claims about what women do or about what men think of it--the book merely presents women with information about how men think. But I think, in this case, the way men think is unfair. In the same way I'm sure few men would like us to accept the mass cultural image of them as mindless sex fiends, few women enjoy or deserve the title of "nag."

For Women Only

A few weeks ago, Adam confessed to me that he'd read my "secret book." It took me a few minutes to realize he meant he'd read For Women Only, an advice book on marriage given to me by a shower guest last spring. The book is subtitled "What You Need to Know about the Inner Lives of Men." Naturally, I had been a bit skeptical. I just thanked the guest, brought it home, and put in on a shelf. How good could a book with such a silly, over-broad premise possibly be?

That's why Adam's verdict surprised me: "it's really insightful," he said. So I've been reading it over the past couple of days. I have to confess that little in the book so far has been particularly surprising. I've always taken for granted that I understand men pretty well generally--and Adam very well particularly. Chapters like "Why Your Respect Means More to Him than Even Your Affection" and "Why Your Mr. Smooth Looks So Impressive but Feels Like an Impostor" didn't offer much information I didn't already know.

But the book has been an excellent reminder of what I ought to do. The entire premise is that women do things to men they ought not to because they don't know better. But I often do things to Adam that I ought not and I do know better. I have no excuse.

In particular, I felt very unhappy with myself when I read the section about making fun of men in public. I love Adam and respect him more than any other man alive. I consider him skilled and capable--he does a wonderful job taking care of me already and we're not even living under the same roof. That's why, to me, his few failings are so adorable. They're incongruous in my eyes--ironic and funny. I like to point out funny things to other people. But it isn't okay if my jests make Adam feel less valued or respected.

To be fair to myself, I don't think I developed this bad habit on my own. Interactions with many other couples, sitcoms, commercials... pop culture encourages us to have gentle fun at the expense of our significant others. It's a dynamic that people interacting with young couples often expect or even encourage. It seems so ingrained that, even though I know it's wrong, I have a hard time imagining public life without good-natured jokes at Adam's expense.

Then I think back to my parents' marriage. No ones marriage is perfect, but I have never doubted my parents respect for each other. I've never seen my mother make fun of my father in public--or my father make fun of her, for that matter. My mother runs my father's business, so it's beautiful to see the faith they really have in each others' abilities. Everyone on their staff knows they feel this way about one another. In my memory, they've never even undermined each other's abilities at home in front of their children. My parents prove that it is possible to have a fun marriage without disrespecting each other for a laugh. Besides, there must be other ways to keep a party lively without embarrassing anecdotes--my parents are far more entertaining than I'll ever be.

Shaunti Feldhahn, the author of For Women Only, is right. My love for Adam, my desire for him to understand how much I appreciate and respect him--these things are far more important than a good joke. Making this sorts of jabs is a habit that may take a while to break. But I will do my best because I still believe that--after salvation and conversion--Adam is the greatest thing that has happened or ever will happen to me.

If the book continues to deliver insights, I'll continue to deliver posts. You can find out more about the book here. T-minus 25 days and counting!

Feeling "Supported"

A few days ago, I posted about the pleasure of learning to make "grown-up" decisions with Adam. The most difficult part of learning to think like a team has been learning to "own" each others decisions. We both tend to blame decisions that don't quite work out on each other, so it's been an interesting learning processing accepting someone else's ideas as our own decisions.

As for me, I like to blame boring evenings on Adam--"if we'd listened to me we would have had a lot more fun," etc. For Adam, learning to take responsibility for money we both spend has been more difficult. It's not that he's a cheapskate, but we need to be careful right now and he gets irritable when he thinks we aren't being. That's why I was especially nervous about asking him if we had the money for me to seek treatment for the chronic pain in my shoulders. Having tried everything else I could think of, I was ready to try acupuncture. I wasn't sure at all what Adam would say about such an expensive and somewhat questionable treatment.

I wasn't giving Adam enough credit. He completely accepted my need and my desire to try acupuncture. We sat down and talked about how to cut back on the budget and that we could afford a few visits to the acupuncturist before my job started. As I should have known, he never grumbled or complained about a legitimate expense.

But he didn't just support my decision financially--he invested himself in it. He actively encouraged me to find a doctor. He even came to the appointment with me--having him sit through my interview with the doctor and listen to my medical history was a surprisingly intimate experience. He sat in the room with me, calming my fears about needles. He even lay on the floor to talk to me through the hole in the table. (He said I looked like a chubby astronaut.)

I guess I learned from this experience that, even though we might fight about incidental expenses (which do, of course, add up), I should trust Adam to be willing to spend money where it is important. I learned to appreciate how supportive he is of me--financially, personally, physically, and spiritually. We're a team, partners. If we can learn to make responsible decisions without arguing in large matters, perhaps we can learn to make them in small matters, too.

Wedding Party: Lindsay the Maid of Honor

Part three in my on-going series about the wedding party. My maid of honor stands out from the bride's side of the wedding party--by almost a full six inches. But she's extraordinary for more than her height. She's different from anyone I've ever met.

I've posted before about what I went through in early life trying to make friends with women. It happened to me a few, lucky times, but friendships with women never felt right. I felt like I was treading on egg shells, waiting to say something stupid so the relationship could implode.

Then I met Lindsay. In the three years I've known Lindsay, she's never once made me feel stupid, unwanted, or unloved. I don't feel like our friendship is perpetually at risk. As a matter of fact, Lindsay may be the first woman outside of my family whose unconditional friendship I've been able to accept. I know it doesn't sound like much, but for me, it's a miracle. It's just the way Lindsay is--she loves in a way it's impossible not to accept and cherish.

I picked Lindsay out of my four bridesmaids as the maid of honor not only for the awesomeness of her friendship, but also because she's the most qualified for maid-of-honorly duties. She's the only one, for example, to keep my train in order and to bustle my dress correctly when the wedding is over. Adam calls her my "craft mamma" (because that is one area in which my mother is definitely deficient), so Lindsay has helped me with whatever little DIY crafts have popped up as part of the wedding-planning process. Plus, Lindsay is always a rational eye of calm in any storm.

All in all, Lindsay is a fun, capable, and loving woman I'm honored to have as my maid of honor. If Adam's on my right, there's no one I'd rather have on my left-hand side the day of my wedding.

(Yes--in the picture we are bathing in corn.)

Growing Up

I know getting married doesn't really coincide with "growing up" for many people anymore, but it does for Adam and me. Not that I don't respect graduate students as adults, and not that many of them don't have to support themselves far more than Adam and I did--but for Adam and I, this is our first try at a lot of grown-up things.

As inconvenient as it has been applying for an apartment from another country, trying to cope with health insurance, and trying to register a rebuilt, out-of-state car, these are all experiences I'm glad to have shared with Adam.

My parents got married at eighteen and, to be frank, had been largely taking care of themselves for years. Mom paid for Pop to go through law school. Pop worked as a janitor at UGA to help contribute. For extra money, they cleaned up repossessed mobile homes on the weekends. All of the first experiences of being grown up--health care, insurance, personal car ownership, apartment leasing--they experienced together. That was always one of my favorite things about my parents' relationship, a probable cause of the great closeness in their marriage today--thirty-five years later. My parents finished growing up together. It's given them a closeness, a trust in each other--and a youthful glow to their marriage--that I have never really seen in other couples' marriages.

I know we are never truly finished growing and changing. I sure hope to be someone better at fifty than I am at twenty-four. But I'm glad that this last bit of "growing-up," transitioning into adulthood, is something I can share with Adam. Dealing with the stresses and excitement has already drawn us closer as a couple. I hope that our shared experience continues to be an asset in our married life.

A Month To Go

Today marks the beginning of a month-long count down to our wedding!

But because both of our summer jobs feel through--and I've been spending about fifteen hours a day with Adam--it's hard to believe the wedding hasn't happened already. It's very difficult to imagine how different our lives will be. But I look forward to being a real grown-up with a full-time job and coming home to a husband whom I love.

Natural Family Planning versus the Fertility Awareness Method

I've tried not to blog very much about NFP because it's a topic that can make people pretty squeamish. Don't worry. I'm not going to go into graphic detail here. But NFP classes have become a fairly standard part of marriage preparation for a Catholic couple, so I think it's only right that I think about them and discuss them as a part of the larger project of this blog.

It's difficult to talk about NFP and FAM to people who don't know what they are. I've entertained a lot of jokes about the calendar method and the likelihood of becoming a parent soon after my wedding. (Just to clear up an urban myth, NFP and FAM are about 98% effective when used correctly.) But NFP and FAM are not just about avoiding pregnancy. They're a lifestyle choice and one which, quite frankly, is much healthier for the woman and statistically a part of a stronger marriage.

Because Adam and I have been WAY out of town, we've had to go about NFP training on our own. I bought a book I found on-line, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, and Adam and I read through it together. In all honesty, I bought this particular book because it's a secular book--I thought I would be happier with a more objective discussion. It's about the Fertility Awareness Method--which means it's the same idea as Natural Family Planning, but the emphasis is on the method's benefits to a woman's health and a couple's relationship rather than on the Church's teaching.

Reading Taking Charge of Your Fertility made me feel empowered. It unabashedly discussed the most intimate details of my anatomy in rational, "grown-up" terms. It encouraged me to accept everything that makes me a woman, even the sometimes-gross bits, and encouraged Adam to learn about and accept them, too. As someone who has suffered horrible consequences from hormonal birth control (taken for medical reasons), I loved how much time the book spent highlighting how much better for a woman it is to stay off the pill--and the unfairness that women, who are much less fertile than men, are expected to bear the burden (and often disquieting side effects) of birth control. When I finished the book, I felt more capable as a woman and more ready to share myself with my husband after our wedding.

Trying to get the same information from the Church's Natural Family Planning resources has been a completely different experience.

The Natural Family Planning booklets and websites I've found take what made me feel empowered and make it into an obligation imposed on me by a male-dominated hierarchy. I don't feel like I'm choosing what's best for my body; I feel like I'm trapped in a reactionary former age. The very same materials which the secular book presented to me in a "grown-up," scientific way are euphemized--or at least dumbed down. I'm not empowered by a better knowledge of my body; I'm condescended to and made to feel ashamed of my feminity. I can't even find a doctor to talk to me about some of my specific questions, which makes a perfectly legitimate method of monitoring my own health seem ineffective and backwards. NFP materials have made me feel ashamed of a choice I was proud of. That's really inexcusable.

It's not that we've met anyone involved with NFP who didn't mean very, very well. But it's a dreadful shame that the Church is failing to convince couples to use an effective form of fertility management proven to be more healty and correlated with stronger, happier marriages. We as Catholics really ought to reexamine the way we present NFP to ourselves and to the larger world.

Mamma Mia!

Adam and I watched Mamma Mia together three days ago. (I should have posted about it then, but I haven't been feeling very well. Apologies.) Just as I was when I saw the touring show and when I saw the movie the first time, I was again conflicted about the musical's dubious message about marriage.

In the musical, a young bride-to-be invites the three men who might be her father--none of whom she has ever met--to her wedding. Hilarity ensues. At the musical's climax, the protagonist finds herself satisfied with her family background. Her wish to find her family is fulfilled. So she cancels the wedding. She and her fiance won't marry now--they'll see the world together first.

Adam insists that they may well have made the right decision. She was using marriage to fill a whole in her life that she needed to fill some other way. Besides, they're young and may not be ready to spend their lives together yet. After all, he reminds me, we did important things with our lives and put off marriage for three years. People shouldn't rush into marriage.

In a way, I guess he's right. Marriage isn't a decision to take lightly or to rush into. But still, I think the musical portrays a destructive image of marriage. The hero and heroine don't want to go out and follow their dreams separately for a few years, as Adam and I did. They want to explore the world together--but they seem to think of marriage as some sort of impediment. Marriage, to them, seems to be a kind of kill joy, a choice to settle down and stay home after the adventures of youth are over.

That's not how I was raised to think of marriage. My parents have always insisted that marriage is its own adventure but, more than that, their married life has been actively exciting. They've traveled. They've run for public office. They've met the who's who of the Deep South. But the difference between my parents and the couple in Mamma Mia is this: my parents have sought and met adventure as a team. The hero and heroine of the musical go out into the world as separate individuals seeking the same adventures; my parents have done and do it as a single entity with a shared story to tell.

That's what I want for my marriage, too. I'm not ready to give up my adventure--though some might accuse me of being less adventurous than most. I'm ready to join my adventure to Adam so we can pursue our lives, our dreams, our vocations together.

Clean Living

I've already posted about some reservations Adam and I share about wedding registries. But, since we opted to have one, we might as well do it right... As you may already know, Etsy makes me very happy. Local, small scale, often eco-friendly artisans with an on-line community rock. Because of Etsy's structure--many items are one-of-a-kind--it isn't really possible to register with Etsy. But I was inspired by a Wedding Bee who decided to create an Etsy registry anyway.

So here's my compilation of things that would enrich our lives a little bit after we're married. It seems a little disingenuous to need some stuff in order to need less stuff, but I've tried to pick things that will stay useful for a long, long time. (If nothing else, we can keep them on a wish-list for later!):

For the kitchen:
Must-have chopsticks!
Gorgeous salad tongs
Gorgeous cooking and serving utensils!
Gorgeous butcher board!
Recycled wine bottle tumblers--let's get eight!

For the home:
Window herb garden
Indoor flower pots and watering can
A broom broom!

For life on the go:
Reusable sandwich bags--I love the giraffe
Reusable lunch kit=awesome!

For reducing and reusing:
A plastic bag dryer--brilliant idea!
Eco-friendly laundry detergent--will it work?
Reusable dryer sheets
Reusable Swiffer pad--all the ease, none of the guilt!
Plastic bag sock
Reusable produce bags--didn't know these existed!

Just for fun:
A secret compartment book--always wanted one!

Are there any gorgeous, hand-made items you crave for your house or apartment?

The Ideal of Marriage?

I spend so much time on my blog talking about the ideal of marriage, the meaning of marriage, and the significance of marriage that I sometimes forget about what marriage--and relationships headed in that direction--actually look like. We're a fallen people in a fallen world. The ideal of marriage is an aspiration, not an achievable reality. It's easy to aspire to an ideal when your boyfriend is an ocean away, but somewhat harder when your fiance is in the room with you.

Take today for example. Adam and I set buying wedding rings as our daily goal. What started as an innocent internet search for DC-area jewelers turned into a senseless argument about how we ought to make decisions. When we took a few minutes to cool off before we sat down to talk about what happened, I couldn't help but think Is this really us? Is this the best we can do? I thought marriage was our vocation--why is this happening?

In the end, we learned a valuable lesson about listening and about communicating our expectations to each other. But, more than that, I learned something about ideals. I can't get upset when we fall short of them. It's going to happen. A fight doesn't mean we're not called to married life. It just means we're not perfect. And making up, reaching a compromise, loving each other anyway--these are special blessings in marriage for a fallen people.

Beatrico

After a brief hiatus in Georgia to pick up the new car (aka "the Millenium Falcon"), ...and Enide is back...

Over the past few days, Adam and I have found ourselves re-exploring Dante's Divina Comedia. Both of us read The Inferno in high school, but neither of us has ever explored the rest of the three-part poem in depth. I'm only now realizing how deprived I've been.

In The Inferno, Dante finds himself alone in a dark wood. Virgil (of Aneid fame) finds the frightened Dante and proposes that they both undertake a most surprising journey--through hell, past purgatory, into heaven. Virgil guides him through the nine circles of hell, protecting him from demons and monsters, until they escape hell and begin to climb the mountain of purgatory. Again, Virgil prove himself a loving and powerful guide through purgatory. At the gates of heaven, the pagan Virgil leaves Dante in the care of Dante's beloved Beatrice.

The first time I read the poem, I focused on Virgil. Virgil is Dante's guide in his imaginative realms of hell and purgatory, as well as a literary guide for the writing of the poem itself. I've only gradually realized that to pay attention only to Virgil--even in The Inferno and Purgatorio--is to completely miss the point. Beatrice is Dante's guide in the poem, and in his life, whether she is present or not.

In my own defense, I think I lacked the context to understand Beatrice's role when I read the poem as a Protestant. She's Dante's intercessor, the one who brings his cause before heaven. It's a role saints like Beatrice can only play when we accept the communion of all believers, living and dead. Even in the darkest pits of hell, Beatrice sends Dante help and hope.

But Beatrice is far more than intercessor. She's an active guide in Paradiso, but also in The Inferno and Purgatorio, as well as in the whole of Dante's life. Her name itself--meaning "bringer of gladness"--takes on an allegorical meaning. She is the person in which Dante sees God. She's no false idol for Dante, but a presence that makes him feel irradiated with God's love. Dante sees God in Beatrice. Thinking about her, writing about her, striving to reach the heaven in which she resides--all these things draw Dante closer to God. Her role as guide through heaven is the perfect allegorical fulfillment of her role in Dante's life.

That's a role I never understood until I fell in love. Adam is my "Beatrico." In his love, I feel God's love for me shining through. Adam's goodness and compassion give me a model for behavior, but by themselves draw me closer to God. He's not just my fiance and won't just be my husband. He's also a walking allegory, a representation of what God's love looks like and feels like. That's why I feel so strongly called to the vocation of marriage--the love of the man I hope to call my spouse draws me further up in and further in to God's love every day.

Self-Sufficency... Overrated

I grew up with a healthy, Southern-American idealization of the sternly self-sufficient man--the man (or woman) who pulls him(or her)self up by his (or her) proverbial bootstraps. I fell for the Randian image of humanity where man reigns supreme when he is completely his own.

As an adult, I no longer idealize the self-sufficient man. The Catholic Church taught me to revere Christian community--the same community that Southern-American culture practices, even if it doesn't necessarily preach. Aristotle taught me that only God-like men and beasts can live outside of political life. And joyful experience has taught me that life with love and community is richer and more meaningful.

Getting married has been an amazing way to see the communities in which Adam and I live. We're so lucky to have friends and family across two continents who wish us well. And here, back in DC, we're extremely fortunate to have friends who have been really generous with their resources, time, and companionship. Just today, Adam and I picked up a bedroom set from my school's secretary, had a friend come over to help us move it up the three flights of stairs to our apartment (no elevator), and made dinner in the borrowed kitchen of my maid of honor. Our friends and family have really invested themselves into helping Adam and I build a life together.

No man can live on his own. But he was never meant to. Life really is richer and more meaningful in a community of people who take care of each other. We're so grateful that God has blessed us with such a wonderful group of friends and family.