A Christmas Prayer from Me

This greeting card personalized with Smilebox

Needed.

What better than an open ended threat to go with our Triple Threat blog.

Defining Points

College is a funny time. It is a time for independence and personal growth; for leaving your family and making it all on your own. But somewhere during all the "growing up" that's going on, you long to slow down a bit.  And maybe just maybe, wether you want to it admit it or not, you just want your mom. Like I said, it's a funny time.  

It was during one such occasion, when I was home on break for the holidays. My mom came in my room with almost a sixth sense sense that something was up. (What was up was simply the passing of time. How did I get so "old" all of a sudden?) She had just started a new book and asked if she could read to me for a while. Like so many times in my childhood, we once again entered into some other world together. As she read I was whisked away..."I have no complaints about my path and the places it has taken me; enough complaints to fill a circus tent about other things, maybe, but the path I've chosen has always been the right one, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

There was something about this moment that has always stuck with me. I can't really put my finger on it. It was like the junction of my past and all my childhood with my future and all the places I would go.

So here I sit at 26 wondering does everyone have a moment like this, or is it just me? Are there more to come? My guess is yes. 

Too much to ask?

Dear men of the world:

I don't want to be an obligation. I don't want to just be something you "have to work on" or "have to pray about."

Yes, there will be work involved.

And I deserve commitment.

And there'd better be lots of prayer.

But I want to be delighted in. I want to know that you're exited to talk to me, that you can't wait to see me, that you want to know not just the events of my day but also how they made me feel. I want you to feel like it's a privilege to gain access to my heart, and to work like you mean it.

I don't want to be told I'm beautiful; I want you to show me.

Sincerely,

Women

Reality Check

When it comes to dating, I don't think I'm the stereotypical girl.

I'm very independent and I like my space (unless you give me TOO much of it).  The words "I Love You" scare the shit out of me (even though I dream of the "happily ever after"). I like being in control (but I want the guy to lead). 

OK, OK, I am TOTALLY the stereotypical girl. I'm just like the rest of them. No wonder men can't figure out what the hell women want. It's because we don't know what we want half the time. Yes I admit it, I have no idea what I want. Well, that's not totally true. What I want is my "happily ever after." But I have no idea how to get it. One thing I do know, that fairy tales are all hype. Lies I tell you, lies. 

LIE NUMBER ONE: "Love at first sight" 

This does not happen. Sure, some old couple that has been married 50 years might tell you, "it was love at first sight," but I guarantee they will also tell you it was a whole lot of work to get to where they are now. What I'm learning, if you ever want to "fall in love," well, you better get the heck off the couch. Because love just doesn't happen, you have to work at it.

LIE NUMBER TWO: "Your prince sweeps you off your feet and carries you into the sunset." 

Stop it. Put me down...now! Do you know any guy that has ever done this? Better yet, what girl would let him? That is just highlighting insecurities, seriously. Let's be real, maybe in fairy tales this is romance, but not here, not now. A guy can't sweep a girl off her feet unless she lets him. And for me, this just ain't happening. What if he drops me? What if it's a sham? What if it's just "vacation dating" and it's not real? I don't know about you, but I have some trust issues that need sorting through before I can be whisked away into the sunset. 

LIE NUMBER THREE: "Prince Charming."

Prince Charming does not exist. Girls, you need to hear this again, Prince Charming does NOT exist. He was made up. He is a character in a fairy tale. We can't expect our men to be perfect. There has ever only been one perfect man, EVER, and I hate to break it to you ladies, but he was also God. So lets cut our guys some slack, and loose the list. Come on, we all have them, our checklist making up the qualities in our perfect guy. Well, in real life, I'm starting to realize that "the One" could be a totally amazing person and still not have all the check marks I'm looking for. That's because I'm looking for Prince freaking Charming, a fictitious character. 

So what does all of this teach me? That I should hate hate fairy tales and curse Prince Charming's name? Well, maybe. More so, it's my reality check. In my relationship I freak out...a lot! I worry (What if this is going nowhere?). I fret (Is this how I'm supposed to feel?). I have not so good days, followed by even worse days sometimes. But, this is real life, and for now, I'm going to keep living into it.

2 dates, 2 looks

Two weeks ago I went on 2 blind dates in one week. I know...CRAZY. For a girl who doesn't often go outside her comfort zone this was a big deal for me. After the week was over I realized I prepared for the dates in very different ways. For the first one, I was set up by a friend of mine

and went to get coffee together. I called a co

uple of my girlfriends to make sure what I was wearing was good and even stopped by a friends house to make sure I looked ok. I was assured by my 2 year old Godson that looked beautiful. Whew! and was on my way on to my date.

The following weekend I went on another date. A blind date with Jesus. I went on a retreat lead by the Dominican Sisters of Nashville and had no idea what to expect. Oh what a feeling that what I packed was not a worry. I had my comfy jeans, sweater, and even my glasses so my eyes would be comfy. What I wore in front of Jesus didn't matter. Even though I had no idea how the weekend would go, how I would react to so much alone time with him, or what my feelings would be toward him....I did not have to worry about what I looked

like.

What a great reminder of how God loves us. Girls worry so much about appearances but in front of Him all that goes away.

Why am I just now learning this?

I think I've just discovered the secret to why relationships are so dang hard:

I need to stop expecting men to be like women.

Really, I think I would have saved myself a lot of heartache if I had just realized this sooner. The word “expectation” is key. I tend to judge the other person’s feelings based on my own standards of action. For example, when I want to show affection, I’ll do it in a number of ways, like sending random notes or texts of the “I’m thinking about you” variety, getting dressed up, sending silly presents through the mail, talking about my feelings, writing letters on nice paper, buying special outfits, and a number of other things. When those “signs” – those things – don’t happen, I assume that the other person must not feel the same way I do. And then I become insecure and start making ridiculous demands from the other person as “proof” of his feelings. Or I assume that we’re “not communicating” simply because we’re not communicating my way.

This is faulty for a number of reasons:

1) So, he’s just supposed to read my mind? That’s not fair.

2) It’s selfish. Relationships are not all about me.

3) The reality is that men and women are different. So all those things that seem “normal” to me are not necessarily so for a man. I need to learn to appreciate and accept how men – and one man in particular – show affection instead of always waiting for them to act like me (and doubting, when they don’t).

This may not seem like earth-shattering news to anyone. But, frankly, I’m horrible at this – relationships, I mean. I’m really just starting to learn how much I don’t know. But I hope I will eventually come to accept the fact that I just don’t know what the heck I’m doing; I will slowly become less selfish and narrow-minded and learn to appreciate all those things that make us different, all the unknowns that make this whole process worth it.

Relationships are scary. But I think knowing this key thing – that men and women are different – might help…

And it never hurts to have a few good girlfriends who just get it.

We get things done.

Today Laura bought a new TV.

We were all pretty excited about it because our old TV was O.L.D. As in: I'm-not-turning-on-cause-I'm-tired old.

Laura recruited me to help her remove the old TV so that we could make way for the new one. Problem: this beast is HEAVY!!! We tried to lift it and quickly determined that there was no possible way we could move it. I'm just a little girl. And I didn't really want a broken toe. Or a hernia.

Somehow, against my better judgment, we found ourselves in the predicament illustrated by this picture.

We'd like to call it "creative moving."

cre*a*tive mo*ving

noun

The use of various household furniture (mostly of the living-room variety) to aid in the transference of extremely heavy objects in the absence of the help of strong men.

After a slightly panic-filled moment (on my part) of thinking, "Now what?" we managed to flex our muscles enough to heave the monster of an appliance across the room, where it now resides in peaceful ginormousness behind the air-hockey table (until we can bribe some of our stronger friends to lug it up the stairs and out to the dump).

It was worth all of the sweaty effort because...ah...sweet reward: our DVR'd shows never looked so good!

Sometimes, it's just one of those days...

Not fair.

Cooking in a Man's Kitchen

There is something to be said for living in a house with three women who cook a lot (especially if one of them happens to have lots of cooking utensils – thanks Erin!). I have started to take for granted the fact that we have things like a zester, a fine sieve, assorted glass bake ware, and, yes, even a can opener available for our everyday use. Apparently, these are things that not every kitchen comes equipped with.

This weekend, I decided to cook dinner to impress a boy. I quickly learned how different a man’s kitchen is from a woman’s. First of all, he had NO FOOD! OK, slight correction: he had no food I wanted to eat – I don’t consider Velveeta, hot dogs, and beer to be staple diet items. Where is the fresh basil? Where is the blackberry jam and mascarpone cheese? Where is the thin-sliced chicken breast? Where are the VEGETABLES?! Luckily, with a quick trip to the grocery store, we were able to get some actual food (I mean, he didn’t even have an onion! Who doesn’t have an onion just lying around?) and I got to work preparing orzo-stuffed bell peppers.

I hit a couple snafus though. His can opener did not function, for one. What’s there to do if you need to open cans for dinner except send him out to get one? Luckily, he was more than willing to go (I think he even volunteered) and I stayed behind to get the rest of the ingredients ready. Unfortunately, he didn’t own a grater; so instead of grating the zucchini I needed for the filling, I had to dice it instead. Probably not really more labor intensive than grating would have been – you just lose the convenience of uniformity. Plus, it will take longer to cook. No matter, zucchini is diced, into the bowl it goes.

At this point, the very well-intending boy comes back from the store, proudly displaying the new can opener he bought and…a new grater. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had already moved past that step, so it just sat on the counter, teasing me. Hopefully one day he’ll put it to good use and buy some really nice block Parmesan.

Anyway, can opener in hand, I can add the one can of tomatoes I needed – the rest of the ingredients were pretty self-explanatory: a chopped onion, some cheese, olive oil (by the way, did I mention he has no measuring utensils? It’s a good thing I wasn’t baking…), salt and pepper. I moved on to cooking the orzo but hit another wall when it came to draining it using a “fine mesh sieve.” Yeah, right… I actually looked in the cabinets hoping that somehow this tool would magically appear, but to no avail. Improvisation is the mark of a good cook, right? I had the “brilliant” idea to use some paper towels to drain off the excess liquid – until they broke and I had a big mess all over the pan. Yep, that’s right: a wet paper towel cannot hold up a cup and a half of cooked orzo. (At this point, the boy came in and blithely pointed out that I could have simply lined a regular colander with paper towels to give it more “structural integrity.” Where was he earlier, when I actually could have used that advice?)

Have you ever tried to spoon out orzo from liquid? It’s probably the most frustrating thing I can think of. Needless to say, there was quite a bit still in the broth, but I was kind of past the caring point. Finally, everything was ready; it was stirred, stuffed into peppers, covered with foil, and tossed in the oven – at which point I burned myself. Perfect.

In the end, everything turned out well; nothing burned (well, except my arm), the cheese melted deliciously, and the boy went back for seconds. All in all, I’d say it was a successful dinner.

Some would argue that perhaps I over-reached myself for this first cooking attempt; I refute that by saying that I have made this exact recipe multiple times before, and I have never had this much difficulty with it. When you have the right tools, things go well. Note to self: put a fine mesh sieve on my wedding registry one day.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, there lived three roommates, Erin, Laura, and Danielle. They were numbers 10, 12, and 13 of a long line of women who lived in a house know by all surrounding neighbors as "The Halfway House." Each of these women quickly discovered a mutual fondness for community, entertaining, food, antiques, faith, and of course boys. One day...