Are You Afraid of the Dark?

I am. I always have been and I guess I always will be. Last Friday night is just another example of how silly my fear really is. Before you read this, prepare yourself. You may never be able to take the Bricks seriously again.

So here's what happened...

Matt and I had both had busy and exhausting weeks, so we decided to change up our regularly scheduled Friday Date Night and have a date night in. I guess I really didn't realize how tired we were until Matt fell asleep at 7:30 while we were watching a movie. After I finished watching the movie, I got ready for bed around 9:00, very much looking forward to a good night's sleep. But that isn't exactly what happened.

At approximately 3:00am I was awakened by the sound of footsteps in my apartment. You can only imagine how terrifying it must be to wake to hear footsteps INSIDE your apartment when both you and your husband are in the bed. I listened for a few minutes (seconds) and punched Matt in the arm and whispered for him to listen. He clearly heard the footsteps, too, because his body tensed up next to me. At this moment, we were both pretty sure some scary man was going to come back to our bedroom and shoot us in the head. That didn't happen, but we still felt the presence of a person in our apartment.

Before I continue with the story I should give you an idea of how our apartment is laid out. It is a typical New Orleans shotgun, which means that you enter into the living room and all other rooms are setup so that you could walk a straight line (or shoot a shotgun) from the front to the back of the apartment. So, in our place. The front room is the living room, followed by the kitchen/dining area, then our bedroom and bathroom in the very back. It is also important to note that our front door is the only door we have. Now on with my terrifying tale...

So, it's 3:00am, we're awake and sure that some creepy character is in our home. What did we do? Well, Matt leapt across the bed to close the bedroom door (because that is very likely to stop a murderous intruder). Then, we went on a search for a weapon. I'm not a big gun person, so we don't own one, and all we came up with was a shovel from our back closet. Not the greatest option, but it was our only tool.

At this point, we continued to hear noises, and though we realized by now it was probably not a person, a recent news story about coyotes in New Orleans had me pretty convinced that we had a wild animal in our house. I was too scared to let Matt go through the two front rooms of the house with only a shovel to fight a ravaging coyote, and I definitely wasn't going to go, so we decided to escape the house...through the bathroom window. So we climbed out and creeped around the side, through the underbrush, past our grill and bicycles. It seemed odd that the front door was still locked when we approached the front of the house. I wasn't sure how a wild coyote could have gotten in, but I knew he was in there alright. So, we got Matt's hide-a-key and sat in his car. For an hour. I am not making this up.

We were trying to figure out what to do. Should we call the 2nd District Police Station (and what would we tell them)? Should we call our friend and neighbor Mary and crash at her place until daylight? Should we call our friend Jeremy to come and fight this beast with Matt? I was pretty disappointed that we couldn't call the Ghostbusters. I'm sure they would have known what to do.

At one point Matt even went back to the side of the house and peered into the window. He came back and reported that it was definitely not a burglar because both of our laptops were still out. Moreover, it didn't feel like anything else had been moved. Our kitchen chairs were in the same position as they were at bedtime, and our garbage can hadn't been turned over. Still, I wasn't willing to go back in, or to let Matt go in alone, because if there was something there, he wouldn't have a clear and easy exit.

Finally, about 4:30, feeling braver, I relented and agreed that we could reenter our house. We had to climb back through the bathroom window because all of our keys were in the living room by the front door. So, we crept back along the side of our house and climbed back through the window. I was still pretty much terrified, but Matt I think had caught on and insisted that he at least open the door and leap for the kitchen light. I agreed, reluctantly.

So, bravely, Matt opened the bedroom door (shovel in hand) and jumped into the kitchen. He flipped on the light switch and we saw it.....

NOTHING. We saw nothing. Want to know why? Because there was nothing there! No burglar. No coyote. Nothing. I was relieved, obviously, and in shock. I knew I heard something - someone - walking on my wood floors. What could it have been? Maybe we had rodents in our walls...but this sounded much heavier than a rat or even a raccoon.

As I said, it was 4:30 and we were again exhausted. Matt went back to sleep pretty quickly, but it took a while for my heart to stop pounding enough for me to fall asleep. When sleep finally did come, it didn't seem to last long enough. I got up early and went to meet some friends. While I was gone, Matt called me. He had solved the mystery!!

Y'all will never believe what the terrifying sound was. A person. Walking on wood floors. Next door. Our landlord, who was out of town last weekend, had a houseguest who we didn't know about and the second bedroom in that apartment is right above our bedroom. I wasn't completely crazy, you see. I did hear something. It just wasn't what I thought it was.

Moral(s) of the story:

1. Don't believe everything you hear. Sometimes your mind can play tricks on you. Especially at 3:00 in the morning when you've had a long week and are exhausted.

2. Don't take yourself too seriously. It's been fun to share this story with friends and family this week (and now with the world wide web) and share a laugh at my own expense. I forget to do that too often.

Open House

Growing up in the South, you learn a lot about hospitality from a young age. My mom and Nan kept the house picked, partly because they liked to and partly because “you never know when company might stop by”. My parents’ house has been the center of many birthday parties, fancy dinners, and family celebrations and it was first from my family that I came to understand the concept of being hospitable, or opening up your home to others. As a child I thought of hospitality mostly as being good at keeping a clean home and having lots of snacks available for guests. Over the years, I have continued to develop my understanding of what it means to be hospitable.

Recently the idea of hospitality has been on my mind because living in community or 'doing life' with others is very important to Matt and I. One of the most important things to us when looking for an apartment last year was that it have a good size living room and room for a kitchen table because we wanted to be able to host people for dinner or share conversation on the couch.

We’ve met some great people who have shown us true hospitality. My friend Melanie is an excellent example. We met her family about a year ago. Not long after we met, Melanie and her husband invited us over for dinner. We were nervous and wanted to make sure to put on our Sunday best (as good Southern kids learn to do when going to somebody’s house for the first time). When they opened the door for us, Matt and I couldn’t help but smile. Walking into our friends’ living room for the first time felt warm and comforting to us; it reminded us of home. It’s not that our friends’ décor was similar to our parents’ (in fact it is quite different) but their home felt lived in. I don’t mean to say that Melanie is not a great housekeeper (she is), but it was SO refreshing to see that she hadn’t spent all of her time that day straightening every little thing. Instead, it looked like she had played with her boys (I remember a board game being out) and prepared for dinner (dishes still in the sink) with new friends. It made us feel much more relaxed and like we could be ourselves. The fact that their home didn’t feel like a museum allowed us to let our guard down and to just enjoy the evening getting to know new friends.

This past weekend, Matt and I were privileged to host a very good friend of mine for the a few days. To be honest, we meant to spend all of Friday cleaning the house and preparing for her arrival, but, life happened. Stuff came up. We had to run errands. We had some important conversations with each other that required us sitting and talking face to face (not running around discussing from different rooms while frantically cleaning). So, needless to say, a few cleaning chores didn’t get done. We picked up most of our junk and I did at least vacuum and clean the bathroom, but it was not our best work. As we headed to the airport to pick up my friend, I was a little nervous, hoping maybe in the nighttime lighting she might not notice (at least at first) that I hadn’t dusted the bookshelf or mopped the floors. But to my surprise, once we picked her up and got back to the apartment, I didn’t think twice about how clean or not clean things were. I was just excited to have a few days to share with my friend. Over the weekend, we shared memories and laughs, encouraged each other about our futures, and mostly just enjoyed being in the same space. It was a beautiful thing. And it didn’t matter that I hadn’t mopped the floors! I’m not sure if she even noticed, or if she noticed, if she even cared.

From all of that, what I’m learning is this: hospitality is more than opening our homes to people, it involves opening our lives and letting each other in. Even if they see our dirty floors. Even if they see our sin. Because the beauty of hospitality is not measured by the level of our decoration or the cleanliness of our home; instead, it is measured by the memories that are made there, the lives that are changed.

I read a book a couple of years ago by Lauren Winner called Mudhouse Sabbath. In it, she discusses this concept of hospitality, noting "Having guests and visitors, if we do it right, is not an imposition, because we are not meant to rearrange our lives for our guests - we are meant to invite our guests to enter into our lives as they are. It is this forging of relationships that transforms entertaining into hospitality."

So, if you find yourself at the Brick House for dinner or a chat anytime soon, please don’t judge if everything doesn’t look just perfect. We’re trying to spend the minutes before guests arrive praying for our time together rather than scrubbing our floors.

Relationships.

One of my favorite exclamations when a friend is sharing some sort of drama with me is ‘Ugh, People!’. I also find myself being comforted as I repeat those words to myself during a frustrating situation with a friend. It seems that relationships, whether family relationships, friendships or romantic relationships bring us the greatest joy in life and also provide the greatest heartache and frustration. I’ve told Matt many times that he is the one person who knows how to push every frustrating button I have but also knows how to melt my heart in an instant.

The thing about relationships is this – they involve people. And people, by our very nature, are sinful creatures. We mess up. We sin. We disappoint each other. We hurt feelings. How often I’ve decried the way I’ve been treated by someone with whom I share relationship only to realize a) that my own faults and actions have contributed to the problem or b) I’ve treated someone else the very way I have been hurt.

Another problem with relationships, at least for me, is the expectations, both spoken and unspoken, that are set, broken, reset, and on and on. I have this really bad habit of setting expectations for people I’m close to, and then not telling them. Of course eventually the expectation that I’ve set isn’t lived up to, and I get disappointed. Sometimes there is a big confrontation where I let the person know how I thought they should or would be doing (or not doing) this or that and it’s messy. Other times there is no physical confrontation but our relationship is affected nonetheless. All in all, I’m learning more in more the importance of clear and REAL communication that is necessary for a healthy relationship.

So if relationships are hard and people are messed up – why do I crave connection and communion with others? I think it’s because I believe that as humans, we were created to live in community, our lives filled with relationships. And this topic is one where the Lord has been growing me a lot lately. A few thoughts I’ve been pondering…

1. Relationships keep us accountable
Having moved to a new city not too long ago, I had to undertake the task of making new friends. It’s bad enough having to do this when you’re 12, but when you’re in your early 20s it’s much easier just to stick with the friends you know. Especially when you’re moving from East Tennessee to the Big Easy and you’re not sure if you’re cool enough. However, once I made the leap of faith, put myself out there, became vulnerable and shared my heart with people, I was amazed at how easy it is to make friends. The thing about doing that (sharing your heart and being vulnerable) is that once you share with people, they know the real you, and they can call you out when you act differently. The same can be said of old friends, too, who know even from your tone in a conversation if something is going on. I’m grateful for friends, new and old, who know my heart and love me enough to keep me accountable.

2. Relationship show us our weakness
Just reading about my own judgmental and expectation-driven attitude is probably enough to make you want to stop being my friend. But it turns out at least a few people have stuck it out with me. It is when I am able to see how my own actions, my own sinful nature, affects someone I care about, someone I’m in relationship with, that I am most willing and able to change quickly.

3. Relationships encourage us
So if relationship were all just about pointing out our negatives, we probably wouldn’t take the time to make them work. So despite the fact that your best friend, your boyfriend or your mom points out the fact that you’re rude and selfish (either by actually telling you or by showing you through their response to your actions), those people are also there to push you to be better. Having them by your side through the good times and the bad times makes the good times even sweeter and the bad times less bitter. There are hard times and tough situations I’ve had to walk through over the past couple of years, and the walk was made so much easier knowing I had friends and family walking beside me each step of the way. I love Ecclesiastes 4:12, which points out that ‘Though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him – a threefold cord is not quickly broken’.

So, for those of you who have put up with my hidden agendas, my unspoken expectations, my moodiness, all my quirks – thank you for being my friend! And for those of you I’m becoming friends with, I hope I didn’t scare you off. Lord knows I need you all!

Matt Blogs

Check out Matt's latest blog post about his first grilling adventure at the Brick House here. It's good stuff :)

The past few months...

Sitting here in my hotel room at the Hilton in Lafayette, I realized I hadn't blogged since the last time I was here. Guess that just goes to show what a whirlwind these past few months have been.


A few highlights...

1. I passed the CPA Exam (It was a MIRACLE)
2. We celebrated another Mardi Gras in the Big Easy
3. I survived Busy Season...just barely
4. Matt graduated from Seminary

...and a few pictures


Some of my girlfiends and I dressed up as "fruit flies" for Mardi Gras. Can anyone guess what fruit I am?










One of my new favorites of us. Taken Easter Sunday by the lovely Mary Catherine Sharp.

In February, I had the privilege of standing with my dear friend Katy when she married Stephen in Nashville. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Jesus was present.

Of course life is more than milestones and snapshots, but these are some pretty big things we've had going on. I hope the lack of consistent blogs will be forgiven.


I'll be out of town, stationed here in Lafayette for the next couple of weeks. To be honest, I was kind of dreading the prospect of being away from my life and my friends. However, it has been so great over the past couple of days to see just how much I needed this time to pull away from the monontony of life.

And here, in the silence of my hotel room, the Lord has been prodding me. He's trying to teach me something. And I had to get out of my comfort zone, my daily life, in order to see it. I'm not sure exactly what He has in mind for me, but now that I've gotten my toes back in the blogging water, stay posted. I'm sure I won't be able to stop myself now that I've started.

What I'm Thankful For: Part 2

Psalm 145:7 "They will celebrate your goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness."

So, I missed my self-imposed Thanksgiving deadline....but I am so thankful for these 3 things, that I figured better late than never.

Coffee

One of my favorite smells from childhood is the smell of Folger's brewing in my parent's kitchen. Funny, now that I'm a coffee drinker, I don't actually like the taste of Folger's, just the smell. I also remember my first trips to Starbuck's as a high schooler - just the word made me infinitely cooler (or so I thought). My favorite wedding gifts included our coffeemaker and my humongous green fiesta mugs. And now I honestly don't know what I'd do most mornings without a cup of my favorite hazlenut spice.


Indeed, coffee is one of life's greatest pleasures for me. There is something very soul soothing about a warm drink on a cold morning. As much as I enjoy the warmth and smell and the taste, though, some of my favorite coffee memories involve having heart to hearts over a cup of joe - whether at the Golden Roast on UT's campus meeting with Heather or Frankie, sitting in my parent's kitchen talking to my Mom or Nan, at Slim Goodies with Matt (best coffee in NOLA) or the Starbuck's on Maple Street venting to Shannon, I'm so grateful for all of those times, all the lessons I've learned, all the advice I've given and received. So, thank you Lord for coffee - and for talks.



Failure

Okay, this is honestly a tough subject for me. As a recovering perfectionist, acknowledging my imperfection is a daily struggle for me. There is something deep within that I have to constantly battle, telling me that anything but 'the best' (whatever that is) isn't good enough. I'm sad to say I often project my tendencies onto others as well. So wouldn't you know that God has to continually teach me that He has called me to a life surrendered to Him, not a life of perfection in my own eyes. How does he teach me this? Through failure.


Last week I received some bad news. Terrible news, actually, for this girl who tries to define her self worth based on standards of perfection. I found out that I FAILED a section of the CPA exam. Not only did I not make a perfect score. I didn't even pass! Immediately my thoughts turned to: 1. What will everyone think when they find out I'm not perfect? (as if y'all didn't already know...) 2. Since failing this test means I'm clearly unintelligent, how can I set myself apart now? 3. Am I still loveable even if I'm not the best at everything? <-- Clearly these were all rational thoughts, right? Sounds like failure is great for me! But here is why I'm thankful for failures. Because in the middle of my self-doubt, self-pity, and despair, the Lord picks me up and pulls me close and lets me know that I am good enough, not because of anything I ever did or will do or even could do, but because He says I am good enough, He sacrificed his own son to make me good enough. So, yes, I am thankful for my failures. As hard as they are and as much as they hurt, I feel them drawing me closer to my Lord, and for that, I am grateful.

Marriage (saved the best for last)

Matt and I celebrated our one year anniversary just over a week ago. We enjoyed a romantic staycation downtown capped off with a fabulous dinner at Restaurant August. He's too good to me! Over the course of the weekend we talked a lot about what we had learned during our first year, our favorite memories, etc. It was a great time to reconnect and recenter ourselves.


I share all of that to share that marriage has been a great teacher for me. I've learned more about myself through being married than I ever did through any sort of self-exploration/contemplation on my own. It seems that when you live in a confined space with another person 24 hours a day 7 days a week, your true colors can't help but show themselves (the pretty colors and the ugly ones). I've learned that I'm not as great of a communicator as I thought I was, that I don't take constructive criticism well (see #2 above), I am verrry cranky when I'm tired or hungry, I freak out randomly when things aren't clean but I'm messy in my own way, and that deep down, I'm kind of selfish. I've also learned how to take care of someone, how to fight fair, and how to compromise (he does dishes I do laundry). As I round out my thankful list for this year, I am thankful for Matt, and for marriage, and for learning and growing together.

And finally, with the month of November and Thanksgiving coming to a close and December and the season of Advent beginning, as people's minds shift from an attitude of thankfulness for the blessings already received to expectancy for the future, I'll sign off with a heart full of gratitude and hope.

What I'm Thankful For: Part 1

Wow, it’s been a while. (Seems like I said this the last time I blogged…). I am going to do my best not to allow all of my recent thoughts and ponderings to land on this small page all at one time. Instead, in honor of Thanksgiving, I’ve come up with a series of blogs to post this month: What I’m Thankful For (clichéd, and bit overdone, I know, but I am so full of gratitude that I have to share).

But before I begin, a quick recap of the past 3 months: I studied a lot for the CPA exam and even took another section (still waiting to hear back my score); Matt started his final year of Seminary; and I started my real-life grown up job. So, needless to say, we’ve been slightly distracted from blogging by actually living life. However, I enjoy writing and sharing or stories too much to stay away. So, here we are now.

Okay, so this series is going to be a weekly reflection of things I’m thankful for. I think it will be a challenge for me to have to whittle down my cup that overflows with blessings into four weeks’ worth of blogs, but that is a challenge I’m looking forward to.

Then, without further ado, I will begin…

Today, I am thankful for my friends and family. Now, to many people this might seem a bit strange, why wouldn’t I devote two weeks to these two groups of people who have played such influential roles in me becoming who I am? For me, it is clear. I don’t necessarily see a distinction between these groups: my family members are also my friends and many of my friends are as close as my family.

Family

I am thankful for a family who has loved and supported me over the years. For my parents, who have taken care of me for so long, from my premature birth to waking me up to feed me every three hours, to the rides to dance class, piano lessons, the purchasing of twirling costumes and many many sets of hair rollers, to homework help and poster painting, to Eggo waffle making and driving lessons, I am so blessed to have parents who have encouraged and nurtured me. And the support has continued as I’ve grown up, gotten married and moved away. I know the moving away part wasn’t exactly in my parents’ plan, but I am so grateful for their understanding.

My parents aren’t the only ones who raised me, though. I had aunts and uncles and cousins (oh my!) who have all played vital roles in my life: from the cards and encouragement, to teaching me in Sunday School and Youth, to encouraging love of music and culture, I wouldn’t be who I am without them. And I think it’s pretty clear now how I feel about my grandmothers: Nan, who makes the best biscuits in the world and knows how to get a stain out of anything, and Maymee who I lost this summer, are 2 of the strongest, best women I know. And who can forget my bro, Lewis Tate. From the outside, we’re pretty different people. Tate is 7 years older than I am, and he’s a boy. Growing up, we didn’t have much in common, or like each other much, if we’re honest. (Okay, I liked him ‘cause he had cute older friends, and he didn’t like me ‘cause I was his annoying little sis). But as I’ve grown up and he’s gotten older, I realize that Tate and I have this unexplainable bond. He understands me, and why I think the way I do about a lot of things. I’m so grateful to have his advice and his listening ear in a lot of situations. I’m also grateful that he married a really awesome girl and that they have the 2 coolest kids EVER.

And now, for about a year, I’m so blessed with a group of in-laws who love and treat me like I’m their own. I feel like my family has doubled in size, and that feels good.

Friends

As you grow up and branch out (for me that started young, at daycare), you realize that your family won’t be with you everywhere you go, so it will be necessary to form relationships with people outside that unit. I am beyond blessed to have had some of the most wonderful people surrounding me over these past 23 years.

I’m thankful for friends who listen and speak truth to me (even when I don’t want to hear it). I’m thankful for encouragers, for the fun friends who share new music with me, for friends who inspire me. I’m thankful for friends who disciple me, and who make me want to be better. I’m thankful for the fights I’ve had with friends, which have taught me how to make peace and mend fences. I’m thankful for friends who cry with me, friends who share in my joy. Friends who pray with me and for me.

So, friends out there, you who have put up with me and my awkwardness, my selfishness, my perfectionism and unrealistic expectations – I’m so grateful for you, for sticking with me, for loving me well, and for helping me want to love others just the same.

And now, what I’m learning is that a lot of times, as you grow up, especially when you live far away from your biological family, your friends become like family. It’s kind of crazy, but I don’t feel like I just have 1 brother any more – I have lots of them, and sisters, too!

Today, I am taking the time to thank the Lord for the blessing of family and of friends, people whose love and support for me mean so much more than they will know, who have shaped my life in so many ways, and without whom I’d be lost and lonely.

Note: Don’t worry, I haven’t left Matt out completely from this thankful list. I’ll be thankful for him in a couple of weeks, probably around our anniversary :-)